Artesans of Albia: 02 - King's Champion (10 page)

She glared at him, and Rienne thought she would deliver a hard reply about it being far too late to worry about damage. Instead she said mildly, “I thought you needed the exercise, Captain. I believe you are growing a touch lazy.”

This was so patently untrue that Robin snorted. He held out a hand to help her rise. Sullyan’s fingers brushed his face gently as she walked past him to stow her weapon. Robin watched her, an intense expression in his eyes.

Soon they were on their way again, Marik estimating that they should reach the mansion by mid-afternoon. As before, Sullyan slept in Robin’s arms, and they didn’t bother with a noon meal as they were so close to their goal. Once they were within a few miles of the mansion, Sullyan roused and looked around.

“Robin, will you scout the area? If Rykan is as avid for the Count’s blood as you suggest, then he will have sent men to watch his home.”

Robin glanced at Bull, and the two men merged their power to search the area for patrols. As the Major had expected, they found two units of Rykan’s men stationed to guard both approaches to Marik’s mansion. There were no other signs of life. The servants who had been chased off had sensibly stayed away.

Sullyan paused before regarding them all. “I cannot afford for any of those men to report back to Rykan. They will have to be dealt with.”

Robin and Bull were unfazed by this, but as Marik, Cal, and Taran were not under her authority, she needed their acceptance before commanding them. Taran and Cal were more than happy to follow Robin, and Marik was fatalistic about his future.

“I’m caught between Rykan and the Hierarch anyway,” he muttered. “Either one is entitled to kill me on sight, so what do I have to lose?”

As Marik knew the terrain best, they took his advice on how to lure the patrols out. It was decided that Sullyan and Rienne would be left in ambush with a crossbow apiece, and the men would draw the patrols into range of their bolts. Sullyan seemed satisfied with this plan, but Rienne was far from happy. She wasn’t at all sure she could aim a weapon at another living being.

“Do not try, then,” said Sullyan. “Aim for the ground in front of the horses. Knowing you are shooting at them will be enough to distract the riders. Leave the killing to me.”

The men rode off to alert the first patrol while the two women concealed themselves in a thicket with a good view of the land before them. The Major kept a link with Robin so she knew what was happening, and she relayed the information to Rienne.

The first patrol, ten men strong, was pathetically easy to lure out. Seeing only five men on horseback riding, as they thought, unsuspecting toward them, they wasted no time giving chase. Robin gave the order to run and the enemy closed the gap, soon coming in range of the crossbows.

Sullyan had no scruples about shooting Rykan’s men, and despite telling Rienne she didn’t have Robin’s level of expertise with the crossbow, she brought the odds down to seven to five in the patrol’s first pass across their position. Rienne’s distracting shots had the effect of breaking up the group, and Robin gave the order to engage the Andaryans hand-to-hand. This made it more difficult for Sullyan to pick them off, so she stopped Rienne from shooting and had her wind each crossbow in turn. The five men maneuvered the enemy riders so their backs were to the crossbows. Soon, it was over.

Once the loose horses were rounded up, Bull tethered them out of sight. The others disposed of the bodies as best they could, so as not to warn the second patrol. Rienne took back her own horse and Marik took one of the spares. The Major also claimed one, and they rode cautiously toward the second patrol. The enemy seemed unaware that their comrades were dead, so Sullyan decided to try the same tactic as before. She guided Rienne into a nearby copse.

The second patrol also had ten men, but their leader clearly had greater experience. He refused to be drawn out and waited for the Albians to come within range. This was inconvenient for Robin, as it meant revealing he knew where the patrol was hidden. He relayed this to Sullyan, and she immediately abandoned the ambush ploy. Telling Rienne to follow her, she leaped onto her borrowed mount and galloped off to join the others.

As they pulled up alongside the men, Sullyan said, “We will have to do this the hard way. Marik, Bull, come with me. Robin, you take Taran and Cal. We will come at them from both sides at once. Let me know when you are in position. Rienne, stay close behind me.”

Rienne watched uneasily as Robin took Cal and Taran off to the right flank. She kept her horse close on Sullyan’s heels as she, Bull, and Marik worked round to the left. On receiving Robin’s signal, Sullyan told Rienne to stay where she was, and the healer urged her horse behind a tree as the two groups charged the patrol.

Unaware that their enemy had split forces and confused by the sixth rider, the Andaryans were slow to react. Their commander rallied well, but not before four of his men were dead. Unhorsed, he suddenly found himself facing Sullyan’s sword. Rienne sucked in her breath.

* * * * *

U
p to this point, Sullyan had managed to suppress her shock and fury at Rykan’s abuse, using the practicalities of their situation to distract her. However, the look of stunned recognition that crossed the Andaryan commander’s eyes caused Sullyan’s control to crumble. He was, she realized, one of the guards who had restrained Marik the first time Rykan raped her. The suppressed boil of hatred within her abruptly burst, and a killing rage flooded her soul.

Unable to stop herself, she attacked him ferociously, raining blows he couldn’t counter on his blade. Shocked, he fell back before her, his movements ever more frantic, until she disarmed him with a flick of her wrist. Her blade drove through his side and he fell, pinned to the ground while she stood over him, straddling his body and leaning on the sword embedded in his flesh.

Sick with terror, he stared up at her, seeing his death in her eyes. In the turmoil of Sullyan’s mind, it was Rykan lying at her feet, exposed and helpless, just as she had lain. All the pain, horror, and madness that this sorry specimen had witnessed surged hotly into her breast. She wanted to torture and to terrify him, to use his pain to dull the anguish eating into her heart.

He made a small whimpering sound, and it inflamed her further. For all the agony and desperation she had felt at Rykan’s hands, she had only allowed herself to scream at the most extreme pain. As soon as she recovered from the drug he had given her, she made up her mind not to betray a single sign of pain or terror, no matter what he did. Mostly, she had succeeded. She wasn’t shamed by the times she had begged, pleaded, and cried, for eventually her choices ran out. By that time, her hopes of rescue had vanished and it no longer mattered.

Now, seeing this reminder of what she had endured lying so craven before her, the crushing despair came back. The man’s palpable fear and whimpering pleas disgusted her, and a ferocious need for revenge overwhelmed her. If she could not yet have Rykan, then one of his men was almost as good. An enveloping surge of fury rose within her and she grasped the hilt of her sword, intending to twist it in the wound.

A restraining hand clamped onto her arm and she spun round, staring into Robin’s dark eyes. He recoiled from the savagery in her face. She tried to shake him off, enraged at being held back from her prey. The others were staring, not sure what was happening. Robin stood his ground, radiating unease. He almost didn’t recognize her.

A flash of movement caught her attention. She swung round just in time to see Marik bend and slit her prisoner’s throat. The Andaryan died in a gurgle of blood, and the Count stood up to face her.

“How dare you?” she hissed.

Marik shrugged and stared back at the dead man. “I was owed that. Besides, you’d already killed him.”

He walked away. Wordlessly, she stared after him. His undeniable right to vengeance—as urgent and valid as hers—drained her anger and resentment, leaving her lost and empty. She gazed down at the dead man, scarcely seeing him. Abruptly, she pulled out her sword and thrust it at Robin. When he took it, she stalked away.

* * * * *

R
ienne’s heart was in her mouth as Robin moved over to the horses. He shrugged off her questioning look, cleaned the sword blade, and returned it to Sullyan’s pack. Then he sent Cal to collect the other horses while he, Bull, and Taran unsaddled the remaining Andaryan mounts. When Cal returned, all the riderless horses were set free with a slap on the rump.

Finally, Robin approached Rienne. “Would you go talk with the Major?” he said. “I’ve never seen her like this before. It was as if a kind of madness went through her. I hardly recognized the look on her face. She isn’t armed at the moment, so she’ll do you no harm.”

“Surely she wouldn’t ...?” Rienne stopped when she saw the tears in Robin’s eyes. “Very well,” she said, “I’ll see what I can do.” Moved by his distress, she added, “Try not to worry, Robin. Remember what she’s been through and what she carries inside her. She isn’t the person she was before Rykan raped her.”

Robin hung his head. Rienne moved over to where Sullyan was sitting on a fallen log some distance away, staring out into the woods. She made sure the Major heard her coming and tried to project feelings of friendship and understanding as she approached. She stopped a few feet away, unsure of her reception.

“Oh, Rienne, you are quite safe. I would never hurt you.” Sullyan’s husky voice radiated grief.

Rienne sat down. The Major turned to face her.

“It is beginning to erode my control, Rienne.”

The healer was under no misapprehension as to her meaning. In the pallor of the Major’s skin, her golden eyes seemed feverishly bright.

“If I am to succeed in thwarting Rykan’s plans, then I shall need all the control I can muster. I cannot give in to it yet, it is far too soon.”

Rienne knew she had to quell the rising panic in Sullyan. Taking her hand, she spoke calmly.

“We’re nearly at the mansion now. Once we’re there, perhaps Marik and I can do more to help you seal it away. The others will help too, you know that. We’ll do everything we can. And you’re still exhausted. You’re nowhere near full strength. Perhaps that’s affecting your resistance too.”

Sullyan returned the pressure of Rienne’s hand, tears sliding down her face. “What have I done to deserve such good friends?” she whispered.

Rienne smiled. “Given as much, if not more, than you’ve ever received.”

Sullyan released Rienne’s hand and rose to her feet. “I am going to miss you all so badly. But I know that all the healing in the world will not avail me now. I shall have to find the strength to deal with this myself.”

* * * * *

T
he incident with the Andaryan commander had shaken them all. Taran was as silent as the others as he rode alongside Cal for the rest of the way to the mansion. When the gates came into sight, he saw Marik regarding his home with tight lips, doubtless wondering if he would ever be its rightful lord again.

The Count led everyone round to the servants’ entrance by the kitchens and showed them the stables. Although the servants had been driven off and all Marik’s people taken by Rykan, the building itself had not been looted. There was grain and hay for the horses, and Taran did his share of work as they were fed, rubbed down, and bedded on fresh straw. Then he followed the others inside the smallest of the mansion’s three kitchens and helped Bull attend to the great hearth. Soon a roaring blaze cheered the room and the familiar aroma of fellan filled the air. Sullyan’s earlier fey mood seemed to have lifted and she was almost restored to her old self. Following Bull and Robin’s lead, Taran allowed himself to relax.

While the light outside faded, they all sat round the large kitchen table partaking of what unspoiled food they could find. As the meal ended, Taran realized that the Major had grown increasingly withdrawn and was studying their faces, as if committing them to memory. Rienne had seen it too, for she put her hand on Sullyan’s arm.

“Are you alright?”

It was a trite question, but Taran knew she was offering what comfort she could. The warmth in Sullyan’s eyes and her smile were answer enough, although Taran could still see the underlying grief and sorrow.

Looking past Rienne to Cal, Sullyan said, “Do you have your whistle about you, Cal? I am in the mood for some music.”

Cal, who never needed persuading to play, grinned and produced his beloved silver longwhistle from his pack.

“Marik,” said Sullyan, startling the Count from a morose reverie. “I know you kept musicians. Would their instruments still be here?”

The Count shrugged and rose to his feet, returning with two guitars and a lap harp. Bull passed the fellan round before producing the bottle of firewater. Sullyan covered her cup as he uncorked it, but everyone else—including Taran—accepted the liquor.

The Major took the harp and indicated that Marik give one of the guitars to Rienne. Taran was mildly surprised when the Count kept the other for himself. Sullyan tested the harp strings and Taran thought it sounded inferior to her own instrument back at the Manor. Yet it sounded pleasant enough, and she gazed round at her friends.

“This may well be the last night we spend together.”

Taran felt his heart lurch, and Robin took a sharp breath as if he would speak. He remained silent, though, and the others just stared at her or at their hands, too full of emotion to say anything.

“Tomorrow,” she said, “you will return to Albia while the Count and I make our way to Caer Vellet. Bull, I want you to run a few errands for me. There are some things I will need. But we will speak of that later. Tonight, let us make the most of this evening and try to enjoy ourselves.”

Robin made a small sound of protest, but no one else spoke. Taran saw Bull’s eyes fill with tears and Rienne’s were red-rimmed. He dropped his gaze to his hands and left Cal to lighten the mood. Raising his whistle to his lips, Cal played exactly the right sort of melody, a saucy little folk tune that banished morbid thoughts. He ran through it once, and as he began it again, Sullyan started to sing, playing a soft accompaniment on the harp. Rienne picked up the chords on the guitar, and then, surprising them all, Marik added his voice to Sullyan’s. They sang the folk song through.