The young woman had become a heavy drinker as well and after a night of swilling a great deal of spirts, Ashlyn regularly offered her body to any man who was lucky enough to be standing next to her when she retired for the night. When she had approached Ashlyn about her conduct, she was told in no uncertain terms that it was none of her affair.
Dismounting, Endra stretched her back. The night had been long and the muscles in the small of her back ached.
“Are you sore, Mother?”
“Aye, a bit too much time in the saddle. I feel like I was beaten with a knotted rope.”
Her son handed her a waterskin.
She waved it away. “I would rather have wine.”
Vinsant smiled at her, recorking the skin. He had grown taller over the past summer and his shoulders seemed to broaden more by the day. He carried her features, though his hair was not as dark. He had also refused to have it cut, wearing it down on his shoulders. He was his mother’s son to be sure. Of all her children, Vinsant was the closest to her.
“I’ll see to your horse, Mother.”
Endra embraced him quickly and gave him a swat on the shoulder. “He needs to be rubbed down, the animal is as tired as I. Have Payton help you.” She glanced around. “Where is your brother anyway?”
“He is with Beck watching the prisoners.” Looking over to the wagon, she saw Payton standing between Beck and Hastings. Payton didn’t have Vincent’s height, though his shoulders were just as wide. His dark eyes were always haunted and his black hair was cut to his scalp. Her quiet son didn’t favor her at all. He was as cruelly handsome as his true father; he would break women’s hearts one day.
If he wasn’t following K’xarr or Kago around, Payton was among the men of the company. Always distant and cold, Payton guarded his emotions closely. Most found the boy dispassionate and uncaring. She hoped under that callous exterior, he was no different than his siblings. Endra had tried to bring down the walls that surrounded him, though she had met with little success. It mattered little now. Soon her sons would be young men and her mothering would be at an end.
A hand clapped her on the shoulder, and Endra turned to see the company’s captain.
“Well done. Serban’s reward for the three in the cage is a thousand a head and with the princess, that will make five. Not bad coin for running down a few renegades.”
“The girl was cagy and the wolf killed Hiram and Micha before we cut it down. The task was not without cost. Why Serban wanted that beast alive is beyond me,” Endra said harshly.
K’xarr gaze turned serious. “The men you sent back last night did not return with an animal. They came back with the wounded man in the wagon. The men said when morning’s first light hit, the wolf changed into the man you see in the cage. Those you sent back all witnessed it. I had them throw him with the others. It seems the baron spoke the truth when he warned us about these rogues, they are shapeshifters. At least the young one is.”
Endra gaped in the direction of the wagon. “How is that possible?”
“There were tales of men who could become animals in Camir, but my homeland is full of strange stories. I never believed the old men when they spoke of shapeshifters, but I believe our brother’s story. How it is possible, I cannot say.”
Endra looked closer at the young man lying in the wagon; he bore the same wounds as the wolf they had captured the night before. “Why do you think Serban wants them alive?”
“I don’t know, but I would like to get them back to Brova as soon as we can. It will do the men good to see some gold back in the company coffers. Besides, I want no part of this devilry. I would kill them now if not for the reward, but for that much gold, I will see Serban gets these dogs alive,” K’xarr said with grim satisfaction.
“Aye, the men have been a little surly lately. The gold will change that,” Endra said, leaving the captain nodding his agreement.
“We will rest here for a time before moving northward,” she heard K’xarr call after her.
Things between her and K’xarr had become strained over the last year. He had promised her revenge for her son’s death, but it seemed that he and the company had forgotten all about Vadin, and what Dracen Milara and Alfred Bennington had done to her. She would just have to trust that the day would come when K’xarr would aid her in making the Church pay for their crimes. There was little else she could do now. Going up against the Church alone would only mean her death.
Noticing Cromwell staring at the prisoners, she made her way to the giant warrior. “What are you looking at?” she asked.
“These beast men and that homely little princess you brought in. A sorry lot, they don’t look as dangerous as the baron said.”
Endra saw that Beck had chained the girl to the back of the wagon. K’xarr must not have wanted to risk putting his prize in with the shapeshifters. “Aye, but those men are a strange bunch, perhaps some kind of peasant sorcerers or something. The girl seems normal, and she isn’t homely. If she was washed and that wild hair was brushed out, she would be quite pretty.”
“Ah, she is built like a fence post and her nose is too big,” Cromwell sneered.
“I have never known you to judge women that harshly, my friend.” Endra put her hand on his shoulder.
Cromwell laughed mirthlessly. “You’re right, I have found very few women I wouldn’t bed. I just miss Morgana and the twins, and I am taking it out on this skinny girl.” The big man shook his head. “I am starting to sound like Rhys. I think the children have made me soft.”
“There is nothing wrong with missing your children or Morgana. Most likely, we will head back to Serban’s castle after we deliver the princess and her companions.”
“I won’t mind getting rid of those bastards. Men that can change into wolves, the Harsh Coast is filled with stories of them. It’s unnatural, and foul as black sorcery. I want no part of it,” Cromwell said with a scowl.
They both noticed Kago Kattan drifting towards them. Cromwell had never liked the man nor did he pretend to.
“Here comes that cocky son of a whore. He has your scent, Endra. He has made no bones about that.”
She sighed as the half-Sidian warrior came swaggering toward her. “I know. I have turned him away from my bed more than once. If nothing else, one must say Kago is persistent.”
“He is a piece of horseshit, that’s what he is. If not for K’xarr’s fondness for him, I would have gutted that bastard a month after we left Masaria.”
Kago came up beside them, purposefully ignoring the huge Toran and focusing his full attention on Endra.
“There is a sudden stench in the air. I think I’ll take my leave. I will speak to you later, Endra,” Cromwell said, spitting on the ground and as he stalked away.
“If K’xarr didn’t think so highly of the dumb ox, I would kill him this very day,” Kago snarled, glaring over his shoulder.
Endra smiled and shook her head. “I think the Bull feels the same about you. Besides, Cromwell is my friend. If you tried to harm him, you would have to go through me.”
The corner of Kago’s mouth turned up in a half-grin, which was a rarity for the ill-tempered warrior. “An interesting prospect.”
After Masaria, K’xarr and the former general had grown close; their captain had not only been impressed with the man’s battle prowess, Kago had a good head for tactics as well. The two also shared a common trait: ambition. Endra wasn’t sure which one of them yearned for glory more.
“They said you tracked the princess with ease; you should teach me the skill some time,” Kago said, glancing over at their shackled prisoner.
“It wasn’t that easy. I had to torch a village to flush her out; not a thing I care to do.”
“Peasant trash, it manners little where their kind go to dig in the dirt,” Kago growled.
“They are people, Kattan. When possible, I try to keep from terrorizing them. I am from a village smaller than the one we destroyed last night, and I have not forgotten what it is to h
ave your home burned to the ground and your loved ones slaughtered for the sake of some stranger’s cause. Fear is not a tactic I care to use.”
The warrior shrugged. “Treat peasants as you wish then. I merely point out that alive or dead, they are of no consequence. Why don’t you come with me? We can share some food and I have half a jug of sweet wine that needs to be finished off. We can continue discussing the treatment of these Trimenian bumpkins, if you like.”
Endra glanced around uneasily. “Fine, but this doesn’t mean I want you in my leathers tonight.”
“I would never presume such a thing, Shieldmaiden, but there will come a time when you will change your mind,” Kago said with a glint in his eye.
Shaking her head, Endra walked past him and the two made their way back to where the others had settled down to eat, and rest their weary horses. The chase for the princess and her meager troop of supporters had been trying.
Kago produced some dried beef and the wine he had mentioned. Endra sat down and shook out her dark mane. Leaning back on her hands, she stretched out her powerful legs. All the riding from the night before had put a cramp in her thigh. “What’s next, Kago? I am sure K’xarr has shared his plans with you.”
“We deliver the captives to Serban. He hangs them and pays us.”
Endra glanced up. Clouds were being to roll in and the sky was darkening; she hoped it wouldn’t rain. “I have met that pasty-faced baron only twice and I don’t like him,” Endra said, still staring at the threating sky. “Serban makes my skin crawl. These men, or whatever they may be, are one thing, but it seems a shame to deliver the princess to him. She’s little more than a girl.”
Kago took a swallow from the jug and wiped his stubbly beard with the back of his hand. “He needs her. It is easy to see Serban plans to seize this kingdom, and for that to happen, the girl must die.”
Endra’s brows furrowed. “The king still lives. What good does it serve to kill his daughter?”
“Circumstances, the girl probably played into his hands. Serban will kill the royal family one by one, their order doesn’t manner. I heard the queen is on her deathbed from some accident, and the prince is in the royal dungeon charged with treason. That leaves the two daughters. This one will hang and I am sure he will get to the other soon enough. Then when he is ready the king will follow.”
“Why not just kill all the royals at once? Why the charade?”
“Just because you take a throne doesn’t mean you can hold it. Look at Malric. He slaughtered the royal house of Masaria and the people hated him for it. Serban needs King Petru right now. There are still rebels in the south and he has yet to control all of Trimenia’s army, some are still loyal to the crown. When the royal family is gone, he wants the people to have no one else to turn to. Politics, my dear, is a dangerous game. If one makes a misstep, it could topple years of planning. I saw it many times with the scheming priests of the Church, with their shadowy plans and underhanded intentions, all vying for more power. Asqutania was nothing more than a pit of snakes. Serban would have fit right in with those so-called holy men.”
“How are you privy to all this information about the Trimenian court?”
“I listen and watch. Do you think K’xarr doesn’t have us keeping a close eye on the politics of the kingdoms he serves? After all, look what happened in Masaria when he failed to keep watch on Malric. The Camiran has learned his lesson about betrayal well.”
“Sometimes I hate this work,” Endra said, rubbing her temples.
“If you would let me, I could make it more enjoyable for you,” Kago said with a leer.
“We had been through this, Kattan. I am spoken for.”
“Ah yes, your wayward half-breed. How long has he been gone now, over a year?”
Endra grinned sadly. “He will return.”
“Good. I would like to have a word with him, perhaps test the legendary skill he is said to possess.”
“If you had seen him in battle, your tongue would not wag so easy. And if he were here, I assure you we would not be taking this girl to hang.”
“Then he is not only a fool, but weak as well.”
“He is neither,” Endra said, anger rising in her voice.
“I say that depends on who you ask. Was it not he that led you into that village in Quintar for the sake of a child?”
Endra came to her feet. “Make no mistake, Kago. I speak with you because your flattery is sometimes entertaining, but if you bring up Quintar again or insult Kian, I will make you regret it.”
Kago smile wickedly. She hated when the warrior smiled; there was never any mirth in it.
“My apologies. I will keep my opinions to myself…for now.”
Endra spun on her heel and stomped away. What he said had infuriated her, though she wasn’t sure if she was angry with his slight or that deep down, she believed some of what he said was true.
The morning was overcast and dismal when Kian arrived in Brova. A cold drizzle had wet the city’s cobblestone streets and kept the bulk of the citizens inside. With Tempest and Tiresias in tow, he warily followed Katrina through the gates of the city.
He and the auburn-haired fighter had both pulled the hoods of their cloaks over their heads. Not only to keep the cold rain off, but also to keep the citizens of the city from getting a good look at them. Katrina had told him that the rebels were not the only ones who possessed spies inside the troubled city. The baron had his own agents lurking inside the walls, trying to ferret out anyone who supported the rebel sedition.
Brova seemed like a dull and dreary city. It was occupied by thousands of citizens, though it was nowhere near the size of Turill or Gallio. Tiny shops and dwellings lined the thoroughfares, nestled close together like the flagstones of their city’s streets. A central market lay all but dormant. A few local peddlers still hawked their wares to any who would peruse their merchandise, but with winter so close at hand, most of the traders had ceased their flow into Brova and waited for spring before returning for more profitable dealings. The Trimenians they encountered kept to themselves, though many eyed the cloaked strangers with more than a little suspicion. The city’s cobbled streets and unadorned buildings gave Brova a cold and uninviting feel. No one waved to them or offered any type of greeting.
Kian thought the people’s sour demeanor might stem from the kingdom’s difficulties. It was hard to be cheery when one awoke every day to such things as rebellion and the inquisition.
The only building the swordsman saw that had been elaborately built was the huge church in the heart of the city. The cathedral was beautiful, with its center structure roofed by a large copper dome. The main building was surrounded by three small towers, two on the front corners and one to the church’s rear and each one topped with a smaller version of the central dome.
The cathedral was easily three stories tall and its ornate architecture and workmanship spoke of the Trimenian’s love for their god. The church’s saints and famed prophets had been carved from wood and painted white, each set into its own small alcove up and down the church’s face. Kian couldn’t understand the religion; it spoke of peace and love, yet harbored such hate and intolerance. Their word was of goodwill and brotherhood, but the Church had slaughtered millions in the name of their god, and could not abide anyone whose blood differed from theirs. As far as Kian was concerned, it was all lies.
Kian watched as Katrina slowed and then slid into the doorway of an inn. The sign above the door depicted a smith’s hammer with its handle broken in half. He held the door for the two girls and quickly stepped in after them. The place was dimly lit, though it was clear the tavern was empty, more than likely do to the early hour.
The female warrior acted as if she owned the place, throwing her wet cloak on the back of a chair and tossing her sword belt onto one of the heavy wooden tables set haphazardly around the room. Kian didn’t follow her example, keeping his face hidden inside his hood and his hand close to Silence’s hilt. His trust was not as it onc
e had been. Experience had taught him to be cautious. Carelessness was a habit he had broken, and faith in his fellow man was a trait he had thrown to the wind.
The inn smelled of roasting pork and stale beer, and Kian’s keen nose detected a faint odor of charcoal that seemed to emanate from the building’s floor and walls.
Katrina moved to the door and slid a plank of thick wood into a pair of iron brackets barring it from the outside. It was good to see she was as prudent as he.
A large man stepped out of the backroom. His face was wrinkled and marred with age; a dark untrimmed beard peppered with gray seemed to sprout from his face like grass. He was tall and broad through the shoulders, however, it was his eyes that caught Kian’s attention. Though the man had a rough exterior, there was a kindness in his expression that could clearly be seen.
Katrina hugged him briefly and whispered in his ear. The man grinned at her. Rubbing at the stubble that covered his shaved head, he returned to the back without a word.
She pointed to a table and they all took a seat. “Eugen will bring us food and drink,” Katrina said, nodding in the direction the large man had exited.
“Is this place safe?” Kian asked, looking at the two girls as they took their seats.
“Aye, as safe as we can get in Brova. Eugen was a blacksmith till he failed to pay the king’s taxes a few years ago. A group of overzealous tax collectors broke both his hands so badly he could no longer swing his hammer with any skill. When he healed, he turned his forge into this inn. Have no fear, he is one of us. I would trust Eugen with my life, and have many times over.”
“So I take it that he is a rebel?” Kian said with a hushed tone.
Katrina nodded. “His hands keep him from being much good at the fighting, so he gathers information from inside the city for us.”
Eugen came out of the back with four platters of roasted pork along with a generous portion of boiled potatoes on each plate. Setting the food on the table, he quickly retrieved two large mugs of ale for Kian and Katrina and cups of water for the girls.
The Star Of Saree (GODS OF THE FOREVER SEA Book 3) Page 13
