Dark Lord of Kismera: Knights of Kismera (20 page)

“True? Yes; but I did not throw away anything.” She felt a twinge of fear deep in her belly at the other note in his voice. He had sounded betrayed.

“So the High King is your uncle,” he said matter-of-factly. “And you are heir to the whole kingdom. Don’t you think you might have mentioned that?”

“What difference does that make? It is my decision to make,” she argued.

“Is it?” Drace spat. “Is it really?” What about your people? What about what is best for all of them? I’m just one man.” He pushed away from the mantle and made a sweeping gesture with his hand. “This is what you were born to do, not playing ‘Suzy Homemaker’ with the human who was brought to you on the basis of a legend. Was it fun to experiment with me?” He realized that his voice was rising, and his control was slipping. He quit before anything uglier came out of his mouth.

“I do not understand what you are saying,” Ki’s brow was wrinkled in confusion.

Drace turned to his clothes chest, rummaged for a clean warm shirt, pulled one out and it put it on with a grimaced.

“Where are you going?” Ki asked him, panic starting to set in.

“I’ve got to get out of here. I can’t think right now,” his tone was more controlled, but still laced with anger.

“Do not leave,” Ki made to halt him.

“Go to bed, Ki,” Drace said, his voice tight, as he tucked his extra dagger into the top of his boot.

“Drace!” she pleaded, as he pushed her hand from his arm.

He gave her a look that stopped her. “Go to bed. You’re tired.” He buckled on his sword belt and grabbed his coat. He gave her one last angry look and left the room.

Drace exited through the kitchens, the hall thankfully empty except for a few servants who were cleaning. He stopped short outside the door as Cearan sat astride his big red gelding, holding Pride’s reins. Pride was saddled and looked disgruntled at being awaken in the wee hours of the morning. Cearan had saddlebags strapped to the back of his saddle.

Drace looked up questioningly at the other man. Cearan looked as pissed as Drace felt himself. He took the reins and swung up. Neither man spoke as they rode out of the courtyard and into the night.

THE TWO MEN TRAVELED until the sun peeked through the gathering clouds, and then found shelter in the protection of a thick stand of trees. They tied the horses to a couple of trees and loosened the girths on the saddles. Drace found some wood among the trees and laid a fire. Cearan had brought a flint and steel and he soon had a cheery little fire going.

The two men sat companionably together against a rock and shared a couple of sandwiches made of leftover beef and bread Cearan had filched from the kitchen.

“How is the arm?” Cearan casually asked.

Drace shrugged his shoulders. “Fine. The other one’s a bit of a problem though.”

Cearan cocked an eye at him. “Oh?”

“Bastard got me when he first pulled that knife,” was all Drace offered.

Cearan glanced over at Drace and saw a stain of blood on the front of the other man’s shirt, showing through the gap of his coat. “Is it bad?”

“Don’t think I’ll bleed out. I’m stitched, or was,” he replied.

Cearan swore softly in Werren.

They finished their small meal in silence then Cearan rose, dusting the seat of his breeches. Drace followed after kicking dirt over the fire. They tightened girths and remounted, continuing south.

It was after midday when they stopped again, finding shelter in outcrop of rocks among several trees. Neither had spoken a word until then. Cearan noticed the slow way Drace dismounted and the stiffness in his movements.

They worked together and soon had a small camp set up. There was a small stream to water the horses and after they were unsaddled, the men let them drink.

Drace lay down by the fire, exhausted. It had been a long evening and morning. He wrapped his coat tight around himself and soon was asleep. He didn’t care if the entire southern army rode in on them, he was so tired and heart sore.

When he woke it was dark and Cearan was asleep across the fire from him. His movements woke the other man and Cearan’s golden eyes watched him. “I have a spare shirt in my bags. I think you have need of it.” Cearan commented.

Drace turned his head to look at him. “How can you know that?’

“I can smell the blood from here. Let me see if we can get you put back together before you attract something that likes that smell.” He rose from his spot by the fire and retrieved his other shirt.

Drace sat up and removed his coat. The front of his shirt had been soaked through and now was stuck to his belly with the dried blood. Pulling it loose with a grunt of pain, he handed it to Cearan, who looked at it to see what he could salvage for a bandage.

Cearan took his dagger and cut the front free from the back and sleeves and threw it into the fire. Drace sat still after adding more wood to the fire, his skin pimpled with goose flesh.

Cearan squatted down to look at the wound, hissing at his first look at it. Some of the stitches had pulled free but it had finely quit bleeding. “I can’t clean it here, brother. We need to go back.”

“NO!” Drace snapped then rubbed a hand over his face. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to bite your head off. I just don’t want to go back yet.”

“No offense taken.” Cearan said as he folded the scrap of shirt and laid it against the wound. “Hold this,” he directed.

Cearan wrapped the sleeves around Drace’s waist to meet in the back, knotting them together. “I think that will hold. If you don’t want to go back yet maybe we had best stay here for awhile.” He said, balancing on the balls of his feet in front of Drace. “It is going to snow and it will be a cold night, brother.” He raised an eyebrow.

“You can go back if you want. I just….” Drace paused, “…this is just a scratch. I’ll be fine.”

“I will not leave you.” Cearan stood and kicked a stick back into the fire. “Maybe we should talk.”

Drace grunted in reply as he pulled on Cearan’s extra shirt.

“You will have to face it sooner or later. Do you have anything pressing at the moment?” Cearan asked. He crossed his arms over his chest, waiting for Drace to answer him. “Are you hungry?” he asked. “I have a little more meat and some bread.” He started to rummage in his saddlebags.

“I’d be willing to bet you’ve got some cheese in there.” Drace commented dryly with a hint of his old humor.

Cearan laughed at that. He had bread, meat,
and
cheese and a flask of ale.

Drace had his coat back on and they ate in silence. Afterwards, Drace took the horses to water while Cearan gathered more wood. Snow started to fall; luckily, there was enough of a ledge on the rocks so the fire and men were able to stay dry. They moved the horses closer to the fire and settled in for the night.

Cearan pulled his coat tighter around himself and settled back against his saddle. “This is a situation I am not overjoyed about myself.” Cearan began, staring into the fire. “First of all, I want my sister to be happy. She is happy with you. Ki has always put our people before her own happiness…until you came to Kismera.”

Drace sat studying the fire. “Why didn’t Ki tell me all this before? How can she forget she’s heir to a kingdom?”

“I believe for the first time she did not think at all. I do not mean to say hateful things of her. I am not too happy with this because I have failed to realize something very important.” Cearan looked at Drace. “How I could not…I do not know.”

“What is that?” Drace asked, returning his gaze.

“If Ki cannot be queen after Yeager passes, who do you think is next in line?” Cearan replied, an annoyed expression on his handsome face.

Drace’s jaw dropped, and then he grinned as realization dawned.

But Cearan remained serious. “I have been raised and trained to be able to take over if anything ever were to happen to Ki; pray to the Gods nothing will. I have the care of my horses, plenty of willing women to warm my bed, and the occasional task that Ki asks of me. I have been happy with my lot in life. Now I feel, how do you say,” he paused, thinking, “Ah yes, pissed off. It quite ruined my evening, I tell you.”

Drace started to laugh while holding a protective hand over his belly.

“Why do you think I left with you? I wanted to strangle the wench, even though it is really not her fault. Me, a king? Pah!”

Drace laughed harder and leaned back against his own saddle. “Oh God, stop. You’re killing me.”

Cearan aimed a half-hearted kick at Drace’s leg. “Get a hold of yourself man. It is not funny.”

Drace continued laughing; he tried to cover his mirth with one hand, but failed miserably.

“Look brother, I have only the one shirt. If you split anymore stitches, I will be forced to let you freeze in your nakedness.”

Drace had fallen over by this point; the affronted look on Cearan’s face the last straw. “Oh Christ! I’m begging you,” he gasped, sobbing for air. “Don’t say anymore. I couldn’t take it.”

Drace pulled up to a sitting position and made the mistake of looking at Cearan; he lost it again and roared with laughter at the man’s expression.

After a few moments, Drace finally regained his composure. He wiped his eyes with the back of his hand.

Cearan jumped up, disgusted, and went to relieve himself beside a tree, “I hope you bleed to death. T’would serve you right,” he said over his shoulder. He rinsed his hands in the stream, returned, built up the fire, and sat down. “But for all that, knowing you are just a human; I think you are all right, my brother.”

“Thanks, I think.” Drace returned. “So, what happens now?”

“Before or after we freeze our testicles off?” Cearan replied, yawning.

“After.” Drace answered with a smile.

“Taking in consideration we all survive the war,” Cearan started thoughtfully as he settled down in preparation to sleep by pulling his horse’s saddle blanket over his legs, “Ki will continue to head Oralia and its lands with you by her side. I will continue as always until Yeager passes. Hopefully, I will find a passionate, lovely young Werre female who will warm me until I am old, and no one causes me any troubles.”

Drace lay wrapped as Cearan was, eyes growing heavy, but he didn’t miss the mischievous look Cearan gave him.

“Or I could just wait until you fall asleep, kill you, and return things to the way they were.”

“So, how
were
things before I showed up?”

Cearan yawned again; canines glinting in the firelight. He reached over and grabbed one more log and chunked it on the fire. He watched the sparks for a second then glanced at Drace who was almost asleep. “Boring, brother, very boring.”

Drace opened one eye. “All Hail Caesar, then.”

“I trust you will explain that in the morning?”

“Oh yeah,” he replied. Soon his deep breathing told Cearan he was asleep.

The two men woke the next morning to a fire that was almost out and several inches of snow. Cearan had stashed some surplus firewood in the shelter of the rocks so Drace had dry wood to build the fire back up. After making a trip into the trees, he checked on the horses. Pride was not happy being out in the cold and let Drace know it by snaking his head around and aiming a bite at whatever he could reach.

“All right, already. I’ll get you home. You’ve been a good sport,” he said affectionately, rubbing the big horse’s ears.

Drace and Cearan saddled the horses then stood close to the fire, soaking up some warmth, while they ate the last of the bread. After kicking snow over the fire, they mounted their horse and began the trek back
to Oralia.

Cearan had begun to look at the sky uneasily after they had ridden for a couple of hours. Even Drace could smell the coming snowstorm. “Think we’ll make it back before it hits?” he asked.

“Even if we rode hard, at the risk of opening you up the rest of the way, I doubt it.” He stopped his horse and Drace followed suit. “I think we may have a bigger problem though.” He sat, sniffing the cold air.

The horses were starting to scent what Cearan had and were moving restlessly. Cearan slowly turned his horse in a small circle, trying to catch the scent again. He stopped facing the way they had just come. “Two humans and…,” he paused and drew in a deep breath. “Thank the Gods just one Zakara. They are getting close.”

Cearan dismounted and hurriedly tied his gelding’s reins tightly to a tree. Drace was unsure of what was happening but did the same.

Cearan grabbed Drace’s arm. “You go on that side; stay hidden until I signal you. The Zakara is our biggest threat. If we can get the two humans out of the way, we can bring down the Zakara together.”

Drace nodded and both men faded into the brush, drawing their swords as they went. He squatted down and tried to slow his breathing so he could hear over the thunder of his heart.

He only had a moment to wait before he caught the same smell that had alerted Cearan. It smelled like a dirty wet dog. He tried to make himself as small as possible behind his bush.

Two men in ragged clothes appeared through the trees, a third form appeared behind them. Drace bit his lip to keep from making a noise as he got a clear look at the creature. The two men looked half starved and filthy, longhaired and bearded. They were armed to the teeth. The third was at least Drace’s height and heavily muscled, and… a wolf. Or at least wolf like.
A medieval werewolf,
Drace thought.
Shit!

It had a wolf’s head on a fur-covered man’s body. The hands ended in claws and it walked on a man’s legs. It wore ragged man’s pants and nothing else, except for the large sword at its waist and the big bow slung over its back.

All three had been following Drace and Cearan’s tracks in the snow.

The two men spotted the horses and moved closer cautiously, drawing their swords.

“Where did they go?” one asked quietly.

The second one shook his head. “I don’t know. Maybe to relieve themselves. Let’s get the horses and go. We can be headed south before they are done.”

“No,” the wolf creature said in a low, growling voice. “Kill the men. We eat one of the horses then we head south.”

“We are closer to their stronghold then I wish to be. Let’s grab the horses and get out of here. We will decide what to do with one of them later.”