Brice lay where she had fallen for a few moments. Her ribs were throbbing and her shoulders ached. Soft sobs came from the crumpled heap, which was all she could see of Lysa in the moonlight.
Something creaked off to the left and out of Brice’s sight and a block of light cut across the room. “Who are you?” A shaky voice asked in hushed tones.
With great effort, Brice lifted herself from the floor and looked up. A painfully thin woman stood in the doorway. The room behind her was bright with candlelight and the lamp in her right hand bathed her in light. Her hair hung in limp strands over her shoulders and her clothes were crumpled like she had been living in them several days. Clutched in her left hand was a rumpled handkerchief and her eyes were puffy. She shrunk back pulling the door with her as if it would protect her from Brice’s gaze. “Who are you?” She repeated timidly, “What do you want?”
Aware that Lysa had stopped her noise and was paying attention to the new arrival, Brice tried to smile. “My name is Brice.” Pushing herself carefully into a sitting position, she said, “As to what I want, I want to get out of here.” She looked up just in time see fresh tears welling in the strange woman’s eyes. She stepped forward and held out the lamp so it lit more of the room.
“Who is she?” The woman waved toward Lysa.
“Her name is Lysa,” Brice answered. Lysa sat up slowly, watching the woman with great interest.
Suddenly she pointed at the stranger and declared, “You are the queen.”
The woman visibly tried to straighten her back and appear regal, but she suddenly sank to the floor instead. “I wish I were not,” she wailed.
Then it all made sense to Brice. “They have been holding you as a hostage.”
The queen nodded, set the lamp on the floor, and blew her nose on the already well-used cloth in her hand. “I have been in these rooms for almost three months now. I am almost ready to try to jump out the window, but I am afraid of what they will do if I can’t walk afterwards.”
“They have not locked the windows?” Gaining her feet and then almost tumbling back onto the carpet again, Brice finally managed to make it the nearest window. The glass panes gleamed in the lamplight. Fumbling with the latch, Brice pulled at the sash. All the bruised muscles of her back screamed, but she ignored them. The window opened and immediately, Brice stuck her head out and looked down. Her heart sank. The ground, black and hazy in the night, was a very long three stories down, much too far to jump. Stepping back, Brice mentally chided herself for her stupidity. Of course, how could you forget those three long steep stretches of stairs?
“Besides I cannot leave.” The queen crossed to Brice and Lysa followed. The child leaned against Brice as she had in the hall below. Brice slipped her arm around the girl’s thin shoulders and gave them a gentle squeeze. Considering how much she had been through, the little one was holding up well.
“Why can’t you?”
“They have my sons in the dungeon and will kill them if I leave.” Tears made her eyes glimmer in the lamplight
Somehow, this did not seem true. Why would Ogert take her and Lysa to keep Darius and Ewian at bay and then kill off the hostages that remained to keep the king from attacking? “Have you seen them?”
The Queen nodded and dabbed at her eyes. “When they first took the castle, I was taken into the dungeons and they let me see them. They were in this dark and damp cell together. Maler was wounded and feverish.”
“I don’t think they will kill them,” Brice said. “If they did, they would lose their hold on the king.” The Queen sniffled and seemed to consider the possibility.
Drawing herself up so she was sitting straighter, the queen declared, “Then we must escape.”
Only a few minutes had passed when out of the corner of his eye, Darius spotted movement in the shrubbery to his left. In hushed tones, he asked, “Jarn, did you see that?”
“Aye,” Jarn replied. “It looked like someone else is trying to watch the castle.”
“I think he has spotted us.” Darius watched as the unknown man made his way from cover to cover toward them. Resting his hand on the hilt of his sword beneath his cloak, he shifted his weight so he would be able to spring at the man if he proved to be a foe.
A moment later, the man approached them across the last open space. Darius realized that it was Trenar right before the man reached their hiding place. Holding out an arm to signal for Jarn to let him approach, Darius stepped back so he could fit in the shelter of their hiding place.
“I thought it might be you,” Trenar whispered the moment he caught his breath. “There are very few men in the Kiylin itself. Most are defending the front gates into the city. The servants’ village is almost empty, all except for the few of the families who do not have someone on the household staff. Karyn says someone has had control of the castle grounds for weeks now and everyone she knows has been escorted outside the castle walls. She has been watched so she has not dared to try to alert anyone outside. I told her most of the city already knows.”
“Ogert is behind this,” Darius interjected. “Do you know if there is anyone else behind it all pulling his strings?”
Trenar’s voice reflected a frown. “I wondered why it was so badly organized. No, I have not seen any evidence of anyone else. Is it possible that Ogert is insane enough to leave himself no escape?”
Darius ruefully considered the man that had nearly killed him three years before. “Yes, it is possible.”
“I can see he wants to get to the king. Why else would he be holding the queen and all four princes captive in the castle with him? But I had the impression he blamed you, Darius, not the king.”
“He does blame me,” Darius responded as the pieces began to fit together in his head. “I would wager Lord Micrey was initially pulling his strings, but Micrey did not plan on dying.”
“What?” Jarn’s tone dripped with disbelief.
“Ogert was initially only following Lord Micrey’s plan when he took possession of the castle, but somehow he found out that my wife was on the grounds. He was never one to miss an opportunity.”
“You mean Brice is in there with that madman?” Trenar asked.
“Yes.” Darius closed his eyes and willed his brain to think. “We arrived right after she and Lysa, Ewian’s middle child, were abducted. Jarn and I trailed them here. Was there any way you could have been followed after you entered the city?”
The dark outline of Trenar’s head moved from side to side. “I was watching and saw no one.”
Jarn turned back from looking around the edge of the low wall that sheltered them. “Another group of men just left the building in the direction of the walls.”
“That is odd,” Trenar observed. “There were only a few in the entire place when I investigated earlier. What could that man be thinking?”
“I don’t know, but I am going to find out.” Darius turned to Trenar. “Where is the best way to enter unseen?”
“The kitchen garden,” Trenar answered and understanding what Darius had decided, he declared, “I am with you.”
Darius simply nodded and turned to Jarn. “Are you coming?”
“I might as well,” Jarn answered saucily. “You might need me to save your skin.”
Darius grimaced. Thankful that the darkness hid his face from the man’s scornful eyes, he turned and checked to be sure the way was clear. Then without waiting to see if the other two were ready, he dashed across the open space in the direction of the kitchen gardens.
Once the decision to try to escape had been made, the Brice started searching for a way to lower them out of the window. A relatively quick search of the sitting room, where she and Lysa had been dumped, yielded no results.
The Queen was reluctant to allow Brice to search the other room beyond, but after a long heated discussion, Brice finally made her understand the necessity. The Queen finally agreed, given that she was allowed to oversee everything Brice touched. Brice was amazed at the woman’s inconsiste
ncy. One moment she was meekly sniffling into her handkerchief and the next she was a towering royal livid with indignation that Brice had even the audacity to want to search her sanctum.
Just as Brice and the Queen started exploring the bedchamber, the lock on the outside doors began to turn. Lysa who had been lingering in the outer sitting room ran to warn the other two. Brice, who heard the noise, looked up in time to see the frightened child running for the nearest hiding place. The Queen did the same. Brice looked about for a weapon to defend herself. She was not going willingly this time. Spotting a small letter opener laying on the desk against the wall, she reached for it. Right before the men appeared she had it hidden in her skirts.
“Where are the others?” Hameal asked when she turned to face him. Ogert was not with them, but she could see the other two men from before following him into the room. Brice shrugged and looked the traitor straight in the eye. Keeping her face carefully blank she tried to ignore the men as they began searching the room. “Where are the old lady and the child?” Hameal approached her threateningly. His sword was still in its scabbard at his side. Stopping at the point where she had to look up to see him, but too far for her to do any damage without his seeing it coming, he leered at her. “Be a good girl and Ogert might let me have you after we kill Darius.” He licked his lips. “I will be kinder than he.”
A shriek from the closet announced the discovery of the Queen. Hameal glanced toward the sound and Brice made her move. She aimed for the gap in his leather jerkin near the center of his chest. Either she had made a sound or her movement caught his eye, but the dull knife made it only half the distance before Hameal caught her hand. He did not release it though. Slowly he tightened his grip on her fingers.
“Cry out, girl,” he hissed. Brice looked up to find cruel amusement in his eyes. Pressing her lips together, she held her silence defiantly. Hameal tightened his hold again. Brice could feel the bones and joints in her hand straining against the pressure. The rough wooden handle of the opener bit into her palm. Pain shot up her arm, but she had been in pain before.
“We found the old woman,” older guard announced. Hameal did not respond and Brice refused to drop her eyes in defeat. This man was not going to have her willing obedience even if it meant him crushing her hand. “What are you doing, Hameal?” The man asked.
“Teaching the wench a lesson,” Her opponent grunted.
“Ogert wants her in one piece.”
“I don’t care what Ogert wants. She tried to stab me and I am going to teach her a lesson.” The pain increased as his fist closed more. Brice caught her breath and tears blurred her vision, but she did not make any other sound.
“You don’t care that I want her whole?” The question came from the doorway into the sitting area. “Hameal, release her hand.” Ogert, looking angry and impatient, glared at his underling. Behind the leader, there stood another man whom Brice had never seen before. He was carrying a brace of lighted candles.
Obediently Hameal released her hand, but as soon as he did, he struck her hard across the face. The strong bitter taste of blood filled her mouth. She was sure that her lip had split. Brice refused to give into her desire to touch it or turn away. Instead, she glared at him.
“You fool,” Ogert roared. “Do you want to make Darius so livid he goes battle mad at the sight of her? Can’t you manage to leave no visible evidence? I want him rational. He is more vulnerable then.” Crossing to her, Ogert knocked the knife from her now throbbing fingers. It dropped with a muffled thud as he shoved a rough piece of cloth into her other hand. “Catch some of that blood before it gets on your dress.” Turning the others, he demanded, “Where is the child?”
“Wort is still trying to find her,” the man restraining the Queen explained.
“I have her,” Wort announced as he emerged from behind the bed and dragged a kicking Lysa behind him by her arms.
“Good.” Ogert turned. Nodding to the man who had accompanied him into the room, he said. “Riket, take Darius’ wench. Hameal cannot be trusted with her.” Seizing the candleholder from the man, Ogert turned and led the way out of the queen’s apartments. He informed Hameal of the current situation as they walked down the corridor. “The castle gate has almost fallen and Darius has been spotted on the grounds. I have sent the rest of our men to the gates. I want to choose the battle place before he finds us.”
“How is that going to help us?” Hameal asked.
Ogert glanced back at the three captives. Brice met his eyes as she walked defiantly upright. The Queen had returned to her weeping; Brice could hear her occasional sobbing gasps. Although she could not see, the scuffling of the man Ogert had called Wort made it apparent that Lysa had also decided she was not going willingly.
Ogert’s cold eyes finally turned back to the passage ahead. “I want to make sure I have every advantage. Come, we do not have much time. I still have to decide whether he or his wench is going to die first.”
The kitchen was empty and the hearth bore no sign that a fire had laid there for weeks. Wondering how the invaders were eating, Darius made for the far door. The darkness beyond the opening lay thick and heavy, but he knew his way and did not need the light. The kitchen joined the dining hall via a long corridor with storerooms branching off on both sides. Darius took the stairs at the end two at a time. He could hear the footfalls of his two companions in the hall behind him, but otherwise the place was deserted.
Systematically searching the rooms they passed, the trio made quick progress, but Darius was not satisfied. The sounds of his feet echoed in the great hall as he entered. He glanced around briefly in the unexpected light coming from the windows. The moon must have shone its face. As he was crossing the audience chamber to the throne room, a male yell rent the air closely followed by a child’s cry of pain. Looking back to be sure that Trenar had heard it too, Darius tried to locate where the continued whimpering was coming from.
“It’s from the throne room.” Trenar pointed in the direction of the great double doors to their left.
Darius nodded. “We will enter another way.” He turned and headed back the way they had come.
Ogert announced to them all that the place he selected was the throne room. And once they entered, Brice quickly saw why he had chosen it. There were only two entrances and no windows to the large room with lofty ceilings. Holding the candles aloft, Ogert instructed the prisoners to be placed against the wall farthest from both entrances and assigned each of them a keeper.
As soon as she was told to halt, the queen sank to the floor and dissolved into silent tears. She was not going to be much of a challenge for the older man assigned to watch her. Wort dumped Lysa a ways away from the queen so they could not speak without being overheard. Lysa slumped to the floor, brought her knees up to her chin, and glared at her guard over her folded arms. Brice was Riket’s charge. He ordered her to kneel to the other side of the queen, closer to the doors and farther from the corner. The distance was such she was not able to offer any comfort to the distressed woman.
Hameal immediately started harassing the child. Brice could not make out the exact words, but she was sure he was being nasty. Then he leaned forward to do something, but he never got a chance. Quick as a flash, Lysa leapt at his hand, the closest part to her, and sank her teeth into the flesh between his thumb and first finger. Hameal roared and backhanded the child to the floor. Lysa screamed in pain.
“Silence.” Ogert stalked over, whipping out his sword. Shoving Hameal aside, he pointed it at the child. “Keep your trap shut, brat, or I shall cut your throat. You are only the dessert and I can do without if I must.”
Lysa wisely hushed.
“What did you do that for?” Wort asked Hameal.
“The brat bit me.” Hameal rubbed his hand sulkily.
“He probably deserved it,” Riket muttered so Hameal could not hear. Brice looked up at the man who loomed over her. He was being much gentler than Hameal and the other older man had been. Perhaps
he had a wife or daughter like her. He did not return her gaze, but looked steadily forward. A muscle in his cheekbone twitched and the hand resting on his sword was gripping it so the knuckle turned white.
Turning to Hameal, who was still nursing his hand, Ogert shoved one of the candles toward him. “Make yourself useful and light the lanterns that will burn,” he ordered.
Hameal moved off in the direction of the nearest lantern, one of many that hung at intervals along the throne room’s walls. Even the queen was silent as Hameal slowly lit the room. The illumination grew in patchy glows. Brice guessed some of the lamps were out of oil because Hameal would try getting the flame to catch and then after a time he would move on to the next. Nevertheless, the fine paneling and elaborate tapestries lining the walls progressively came into focus.
The tapestries reminded her of the one she had hidden behind the day that Lord Micrey’s castle fell, the day she first encountered Darius. Almost as if her very thoughts summoned him, Darius appeared in the shadows along the opposite wall where three of the lanterns in a row were not burning. It was if he had appeared out of nothingness. Glancing cautiously toward Ogert, Brice realized no one else had seen him. Carefully tilting her head, she looked again quickly. Yes, it was definitely him standing there, silent and almost invisible. Fear rose in her throat. He came alone.
Hameal returned to their group. Handing the candle to Ogert, he asked, “How long do we wait?”
“Until he comes.” The leader cast a cold glance in Brice’s direction. Brice dropped her eyes. She was afraid he would be able to read them.
“He is here.” Darius’ voice carried well in the vaulted hall. Everyone, but Brice and Ogert, jumped.
Ogert did not even wait to see where Darius stood; he strode over and yanked Brice to her feet. Twisting her arm behind her, he drew his blade, and brought it to her throat. Pain shot up her arm into her shoulder causing her vision to spot. The sharp edge of the blade bit into her skin slightly as Ogert brought her around and used her as a living shield. Brice gave up trying to see at that point. Closing her eyes, she concentrated on not swallowing.
The Mercenary's Marriage Page 9
