“Troll!”
Spinning around, I raised my hands, palms out, trying to push their fears and loathing back, as though I shoved at a solid wall. “No, no, lads, it’s all good, really, it’s just a baby troll, after all, what harm can a baby troll do to us? Eh? We’re all grown men here, and it’s harmless, really –”
“It drinks blood, m’lord,” Lyall said, his tone like flint. “It’s evil.”
“Yes, well, this particular evil, er, infant, is our divine messenger. We need it, and the princess, to save our country. Remember?”
I blew out a gust of in-taken breath, trying to smile and regain light-heartedness. “That can’t be evil, what? C’mon, lads, relax.”
I smacked Lyall’s shoulder. “Think of it as a –”
“Troll.”
I tried to laugh. “No, no, it’s a baby bat. Yes, it’s just a baby bat.”
“That drinks blood.”
“I tell you, many harmless critters drink blood –”
“Like what?”
“Er, well –” I ran my fingers through my mop of hair and tried to think. “Uh, how about mosquitoes?”
Lyall’s crusty expression wilted me where I stood.
“And fleas, of course. Fleas drink blood, we all know it. Right? So what if it drinks blood, it’s all good –”
“What drinks blood?”
Buck-Eye returned, a rabbit hanging from his fist, his arrow through its throat. Garnet droplets slid down it fur and dripped redly into the tundra at his boots. All that blood, dripping, useless –
I dodged forward and intercepted him before he tossed the carcass on the ground. He hadn’t skinned it yet, as any good hunter might, nor had he gutted it. Perhaps most of its blood remained inside, still warm. It’s a baby, I half-thought, gagging. It doesn’t need much. Right?
“Ha! Thanks, Buck-Eye, I’ll take it now, go get yourself some dinner. You lads, too, eat up while its hot.”
Seizing the still-warm rabbit from Buck-Eye’s fist, I held it gingerly upright, hoping not too much blood was lost from its damaged throat. Leaving them to mutter behind my back, I quickly crossed the distance to the other fire. Complete with arrow, I laid it carefully at Iyumi’s feet. “There you are, er, ah, blood, as you, er requested, m’lady. For the, um, you know – the, the –”
She eyed the rabbit disdainfully. Carefully setting the baby in her lap, she raised both hands and picked up the carcass. “Give me your knife.”
“My, er –”
“Knife. Please.”
Hastily, I yanked my dagger from my belt and handed it to her, hilt first. My belly roiling, threatening to heave, I watched as she cut the furry throat and held it above the rags. When the sucking started, along with the happy gurgles, I knew my time had come. I stumbled away into the darkness before falling to my knees. Retching what little I had in my stomach, I coughed and hurled, spitting the sour taste from my mouth. My aching belly revolted again, sending bile up and out at roughly the speed of sound. I groaned, sweating, my stomach muscles aching.
Dra’agor’s nose nuzzled my ear, his whine caught in his throat. I shoved him away, needing solitude in my moment of shame. At least none of the lads saw fit to investigate their lord prince on his knees vomited into the bushes. What Iyumi thought – I didn’t care.
Perhaps an hour, or most likely five minutes, passed before Dra’agor nuzzled my neck. When Dra’agor licked my sweat from my cheek, I didn’t push him away. I wobbled halfway to my feet. “I’m sorry, old lad,” I said, wiping my lips on my sleeve. “Somehow, I’ll set you free. I don’t know how, though. But I’ll figure it out.”
I managed a reasonably straight walk back to the fire, Dra’agor at my side. I needed a drink. Water, wine, beer – anything that might wash away the sour taste of bile from my mouth and throat. The kid had finished his drink, and mumbled sleepy sounds from within the folds of Iyumi’s lap. The rabbit lay near the fire, shrunken, a shell of what it once was: a living, breathing entity before Buck-Eye’s keen archery sent it on its rabbit way.
“The meat’s still good,” Iyumi said, picking it up and holding it toward Dra’agor. “I’ll skin it for you, if you want it. Please. I’d be honored, Dra’agor.”
Dra’agor wagged his tail, his eyes bright, as he watched Iyumi quickly skin the rabbit. He gently plucked the still-warm carcass from her bloody hands, and took it away, into the darkness, to eat his evening meal in privacy.
She cleaned my knife as best she could before returning it to me. “I don’t suppose, er –”
She lifted her stained hands, clasped together by the manacles, toward me. “Might I trouble you for a quick wash, perhaps?”
I nodded, avoiding her eyes. “Of course.”
The swift mountain stream lay but a few hundreds rods from our campsite. After clearing my mouth and sweating face, I filled two skins full of the icy water and carried them back, into the firelight. Dra’agor finished the rabbit and sat near Iyumi, licking his whiskers as she smiled up into his face. She said something I couldn’t catch, and Dra’agor wagged his tail. The troll lay silent, sleeping I guessed, within the protection of her lap as I walked up.
Iyumi held out her hands, rinsing them in the cold water as I poured. A small trickle struck the fire, forcing it to hiss in protest, as Iyumi dried her hands on her cloak. The manacles didn’t clank much, I noticed. Their sound seemed muted, like their color.
“You sacrificed the child,” Iyumi said, her tone neutral. “And gained terrible power from it.”
I didn’t answer. After setting the skins aside, close to her should she need a drink in the night, I sat down, across the fire from her. Drawing my knees to my chin, I watched as the firelight flickered off her features, setting her silver hair aflame. I didn’t question how she knew about Finias. Of course she knew. My only surprise was my own surprise.
“Are you evil, Flynn?”
Again, I didn’t speak. Tossing more wood on an already tall and hot fire, I built it higher still, as though creating a blazing fence between me and the gods’ voice. I wish I knew, I thought, mesmerized by the flickering red-orange-yellow flames, its heat beading sweat on my brow and upper lip. I’ve done evil, certainly. Does that make me truly evil, in truth? I wrapped my arm around my upraised knee, for the first time in my life pondering what might become of my soul after I’m dead and gone.
“You’ve received quite an education lately,” Iyumi said, rubbing Dra’agor’s ear as she stared into the flames. “You know that Minotaurs, Centaurs and Shape-Shifters aren’t evil. Magic isn’t evil, for you wield it yourself. I know you were taught such, as a child, in Raithin Mawr. But they aren’t. Just as this child isn’t.”
“It’s a troll.”
“So?” Her tone shifted to impatience. “It drinks blood to survive. Big deal. Grow up, Flynn. You kill and eat meat. Just as Dra’agor kills to feed his pack, and humans slaughter cattle, sheep and goats for their survival. A troll doesn’t murder in the night. Not on humans, anyway. It kills through need only, and by the gods’ will alone does it need to drink the blood first. This child isn’t evil.”
“I hope you’re right,” I muttered, making the sign against strong magic. “I know damn well I’ll never sleep while that thing is around.”
Though I tried hard to ignore the troll, I slept in fits. The little boy I murdered haunted what little sleep I managed to get, pointing his tiny finger at me while glaring at me with my father’s eyes. He didn’t speak, not this time. But the gaping wound in his throat yawned wide as his free hand picked and pulled at his empty chest cavity. I woke, my scream snared like a rabbit in a trap, my face sweating rivers. Sitting up, I huddled close to the fire, watching Iyumi sleep. She lay next to the fire, wrapped in a blanket, cuddling the troll close, at her belly. It, too, slept deeply, wrapped in both her warmth and the blanket. Dra’agor curled up at her back, as though helping her stay warm through the cold mountain night. I seized a nearby wineskin and drank deep. The wine settled my nerves a f
raction. I wiped my face of the rapidly cooling sweat, and took a deep breath.
Get some sleep, I told myself, the next few days will be rough. I lay back down, and forced my eyes shut. When I did manage to nod off, I dreamed that creepy troll rose from Iyumi’s protection and crawled toward me, eyes blood red and fangs dripping.
I woke instantly, reaching for my sword, only to see her back, all but buried behind Dra’agor’s hulking form. No troll stalked me, seeking my throat and my beating pulse. A rapid glance around showed my lads huddled about their own fire, sleeping. Torass stood the mid watch, standing with his back to the flames, pacing occasionally. I lay back down, my heart thumping in my chest, tasting the sweet iron of panic on my tongue. Yet, I never let go of my hilt, or the dark power. I kept both within my hands, ready.
Just in case.
Though I lay quiet, still, and comfortable into my blankets, sleep eluded me. Knowing I needed my rest if I were to keep my head and wits about me only made matters worse. I couldn’t halt the torrid images of the hungry troll rampaging through camp, killing all except its mother: Iyumi. Perhaps I’ll catch a nap later, I thought, trying to force myself to relax. If we lived that long, at any rate.
Come the faint tinge of dawn, I rose from my blankets. With one cautious eye on her, I stretched as though having slept well, faking a yawn. Though I feigned sleepiness, she didn’t. Iyumi rubbed sleep from her eyes as Dra’agor stretched, his front paws out and his rump high in the air. Iyumi thumped his shoulder, forcing him to snap his fangs on his own tongue.
“Be a dear,” she said, covering her own yawn. “Fetch a bite for this young one?”
Dra’agor wagged his tail agreeably, and loped into the scrub oak and thickets. He vanished just as the sun rose over the eastern plains below us, covering the earth in crimson, orange and red blush. Distant clouds appeared as wisps on the horizon, the day promising clear yet chilly. We did near the end of summer, I thought, this high up. Winter comes early.
“M’lord?”
I twisted halfway around as Torass offered a small plate of cold pork, berries, hard cheese, bread and an array of nuts. A skin of water hung from his wrist. My belly rumbled, but not in hunger. I covered my mouth as I graciously waved him toward Iyumi. “My lady has her choice first, of course.”
Torass knelt, eyes respectfully lowered, as Iyumi took only the waterskin from him, with both hands. She drank deep, her eyes on him even as she tilted her head back and squirted the icy water down her throat. She lowered it thoughtfully, still watching him, silver droplets clinging to her lips.
“What’s your name?”
“Torass, m’lady.”
“Torass,” she repeated softly, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand. Her manacles clanked softly, and dark bruising had formed over her slender wrists. She set the skin on his small plate. “Well, Torass, I’m not hungry just now. But I do thank you for the drink.”
Knuckling his brow, Torass rose to offer me the food next, but I waved him away. I had no appetite, either. He walked away toward the smoldering remains of the other fire, sharing out the breakfast with Boden, Buck-Eye and Lyall, laughing over some jest.
I gestured lamely toward her obviously sore wrists. “I’m sorry I can’t get those off you.”
She glanced at them with a half-shrug. “Doesn’t matter.”
“Of course it does. They’re hurting you.”
Iyumi sighed, and stared straight into my face for once. “Flynn. Not a one of us will be alive if the Red Duchess sacrifices this child on her demon altar. For she will open up the gates of hell, and both our lands will perish. You can be proud of yourself, boy. You’ll be personally responsible for the end of the world as we love it.”
I gaped. “That’s not true! No one will kill this – child. I’ll marry you and we’ll join our lands as one. That’s the prophecy.”
She rolled her eyes. “Idiot boy. That’s one prophecy. There are many avenues to it. One is that you just mentioned. The other is that my father kills you and your father, and rules over Raithin Mawr, then our lands become one. But if that demon bitch gets a hold of this baby, then all bets are off. She will rule and we’re all dogmeat.”
“I’m delivering the baby to my mother,” I said, feeling a very large wriggle of fear run down my heart. “Not this Red Duchess creature. I have to save Fainche. If I don’t, my father will kill her.”
Iyumi frowned. “Princess Fainche? Your sister?”
I nodded, running my hands through my hair. Standing up, I paced, sweating despite the chilly morning. “The Red Duchess, as you call her, controls him. I think. If we can kill her, then we can be free of her. My father won’t – won’t –”
She nodded. “Then your father won’t kill what you love most in the world. ”
I nodded, pacing, unable to halt the fear in my voice. “He’ll kill not just Fainche, but Sofia, my wife, and – and my unborn son –
“Your wife is pregnant?”
I nodded, unhappily. “I think so, she said so – she lies, occasionally, but what if this time she didn’t? My mother will die, too. That’s why I have to deliver you, and the – the – baby. I can’t lose them all!”
“If your father is controlled by her, as you say,” Iyumi said, her tone neutral. “Then how can we kill her?”
“Because I plan to kill him.”
She laughed. “Riiight. You’d kill your own father. Just how stupid do you think I am?”
Shit! Damn her eyes – shit! I loosed the cloak clasp at my throat, and let my cloak fall to the ground. Unlacing my tunic I stripped it off and turned my bare back to her. I couldn’t stop the bitterness that crept into my tone, ousting the fear. “This was his gift to me when I failed to bring you to him. Do you not see the love a father has for his son? His family?”
“Gods.”
The single word held more horror than question. Though she didn’t move toward me, I felt her empathy tingle along my skin like a dancing firefly. “Your father did this? To his own son? What kind of monster is he?”
“Monster, yes.” I didn’t turn around as I pulled my tunic back over my head and swung my cloak over my shoulders. My fingers trembled as I fumbled at the clasp. “A father, not so much. We never got on, ever. You see? He expects the impossible, and demands such from his only son and heir.”
“But, this – this is –”
“Monstrous, in truth,” I replied, my tone low, cold. “He wants me like him: evil, strong, invincible. Believe me, it’s not what I want. I’m the creature I am because of him. I hope, someday, I can be the true prince folks want me to be.”
At last clothed respectably again, I could turn about and meet her sympathetic blue eyes. “I will kill him, Princess. I swear it. I’ll kill her, too, before she can harm this baby you protect. But I have to save my mother. My sister. My wife. To keep them safe is all I live for.”
I bowed my head, shut my eyes against the pain, the pain I brought upon myself and others. “I know you don’t believe me. I know you don’t trust me, and you’re right not to. When I was a little boy, all I ever wanted to be was brave, courageous. Like the knights in the tales of old. I wanted to save the day and listen to the cheers of a grateful crowd.”
I half-laughed, choking. “I’ve fallen far short of that dream, I reckon. Rather than save folks, I’ve harmed them. If there is a way I can atone for the evil I’ve done, I’ll do it. I swear by the gods you represent, I’ll undo the evil I’ve done. Somehow. Someday. If I’m ever given the chance.”
At her continued silence, I glanced up. I half-thought to find her staring at me, but instead she gazed down into her lap, where the infant troll lay. As though she hadn’t heard a word I said. As though only the baby mattered in the grand scheme of the world. She didn’t just not believe me, she ignored me. Quashing the sudden burst of irritation that rose, I opened my mouth as I bowed, sardonic, toward her.
“I reckon –”
“A pretty speech,” she said, meeting my annoyanc
e.
Her silver-gilt hair fell across her eyes and she tossed it back, careless, out of long habit. I heard no hint of sarcasm, of derision in her voice. I saw no hint of hatred nor any sign of mockery in her eyes or expression.
“I feel the need to offer a small bit of advice, unwanted as it may be,” she went on, her voice carefully neutral. “Be careful of what you’d swear to, Prince Flynn of Raithin Mawr. The gods are fickle, and demand much from their servants. You swore an oath before them, and bared your throat. Never for a second, not an instant that passes, ever forget they might hold you to it.”
I gaped like a fool. While I expected her contempt, my words hurled back into my teeth with righteous fury, I never thought she’d prophecy – if that’s what her words meant. To predict my future. If I’d learned anything in my years of walking this earth, I did learn one thing: the future was never predictable. Like the water in a river, it flowed fluid and ever changing. If a rock dropped into its course, its course was forever changed. Surely the gods knew that.
How I’d have answered her, I’ll never know. At that moment, Dra’agor returned at a lope, tail wagging, a freshly killed young marmot in his jaws. As Iyumi praised his kill and his skills as a hunter, I tossed my knife, point down, at her feet. Walking away, I shut my ears to the sounds of that nasty creature sucking the blood from the dead rodent, my stomach roiling.
“You haven’t eaten, m’lord,” Buck-Eye said, standing up from the smoldering remains of the fire. He held out meat and bread toward me, still-warm from the coals. “It’s a long way till the midday meal, don’t ye know. Won’t you grab a bite?”
In the distance, Boden and Lyall led the freshly watered horses back from the stream, punching one another’s shoulders in a mock-fight. They danced and laughed, ducking their heads as they battled, the horses plodding behind them in a loose group. Torass emerged from the bushes, clearly finished answering nature’s call, and hitched his britches. He turned toward the ruckus caused by the others and called to them, but I couldn’t hear his words.
The Unforgiven Page 43
