DEBTS (Vinlanders' Saga Book 3) (9 page)

Benoia had fiercely refused at first, but she’d had no better idea. So Annikke had laid a trail any fool could follow away from the thicket, and obscured all sign that Benoia hid among the young saplings.

But the man hadn’t been a fool, and hadn’t followed her false trail. He was clearly a Tracker Talent of considerable skill, because he’d headed straight for the stand of young oaks and his quarry.

He might not be a fool, but he
was
alone. Another plan blossomed. If she could stop his pursuit, they might still have a chance.

Benoia had somehow reversed the healing magic the Elves had given them in a fit of panic. Perhaps Annikke could do the same and lame the man enough to slow him, allowing them to get away. They’d have to steal his horse, too, or he’d just ride after them, but what was theft, even of a valuable animal, when you planned to maim a man?

Annikke lifted her hand. Hesitated. She’d never harmed someone before. Before she even had magic the villagers had feared her Fey-marking. With this choice, all the years she’d carefully cultivated her neighbors’ trust would be as naught. Their fear of her, of her Fey-marking, would be justified.

She had to do this. He wasn’t struggling yet, but the young oaks didn’t have the strength to hold him for long, and if they tried to, he’d soon tear them to pieces trying to free himself. Benoia’s future depended on this. Annikke didn’t want to think of what Lord Tholvar would do to her foster-daughter if she fell into his hands.

Only now that their pursuer was caught and within reach, she couldn’t do it. She was certainly frightened enough for her foster-daughter. That alone should have given her the strength to follow through. But the man wasn’t offering them immediate injury. He wasn’t even thrashing and fighting the plants.

He turned his head, and looked at her over his shoulder. His eyes widened, and he hesitated a moment before saying, “Let me loose, mistress Annikke. I’ll not harm you or the girl.”

“Ha!” Annikke exclaimed. Did the man think her silver hair meant she was simple-minded? “Don’t lie. Lord Tholvar will sell her as a thrall—
if
she survives the flogging he’ll give her.”

“Then it’s good that it wasn’t Lord Tholvar who sent me. I am Aren Birgirsson, in service to Lord Fendrikanin of Quartzholm.”

Annikke drew back her hand as surprise rippled through her. “Lord Fender sent you? Why?”

“He wants to make sure you’re treated justly. He said he owes you a debt.”

Hope flared in Annikke’s heart, and doubt alongside it. “What can he do? Lord Tholvar is a powerful man. Only the Jarl might counter him, and that’s but a tenuous hope.”

“It was the Jarl who sent me, mistress.” The man moved slowly, gradually easing one tangled arm free and folding it close to his chest.

Annikke laughed bitterly as her hope died. The man was piling lie upon falsehood. “Do I look so gullible? You don’t even know Lord Fendrikanin, do you? The Jarl has no reason to take any interest in the likes of me and my foster-daughter.”

“Lord Tholvar gave him reason. Tholvar’s men searched for you, but lost you in the forest. He has no Tracker Talents able to find you so he asked the Jarl for aid.
He
made you Lord Dahleven’s business. It will be Lord Dahleven who decides your fate and that of your servant, not Tholvar. And Lord Fender has the Jarl’s ear.” Aren gently pulled his other arm free. “Quartzholm is the safest place for you now.”

Could what he was saying be true?

Lord Fender’s debt to her had been Annikke’s hope when she’d dragged Benoia into the forest. A hope that had seemed thin at best. She wanted to believe this man, but did she dare? If she chose wrong, her foster-daughter’s life would be destroyed.

Benoia appeared at her side and clutched at her arm. “Why are you talking? We’ve got to go!”

Annikke let Benoia pull her away a step, then another. She had no reason to trust this man. And Tholvar could only be trusted to vent his anger upon Benoia and Annikke both. Benoia went to Aren’s horse and untied the reins. Annikke couldn’t bring herself to lame the man, but she and Benoia might be able to outpace him if they rode and he was on foot.

“Lord Fender is an honorable man, mistress.” Aren said. “He pays his debts.”

Annikke hesitated. Lord Fender had given them courtesy five years ago, even though he could clearly see she was Fey-marked. He’d even tried to protect her on that long ago night. She put her hand on Benoia’s wrist. “Wait.”

Benoia turned wide, frightened eyes up to her. Annikke caught a glimpse of the beaten girl that had been sold into her service in those eyes, and she hated Sveyn for what he’d tried to do. For the hundredth time, Annikke wished it had been she who’d been caught in the forest, and not Benoia. She’d have done more than shrivel his miserable little cock.

“I’ll not let any man harm you,” Annikke said.

“You can’t stop them!” Benoia shot back. “Men do as they will, with none to gainsay them!”

Annikke turned back to Aren. “Let my daughter go. Take me to Quartzholm. I’ll take her punishment.”

“No!” Benoia protested. “It was my fault!”

“Don’t you ever think that! What happened is on Sveyn’s head,” Annikke answered. “You only defended yourself.”

Benoia looked away.

“What happened, mistress?” Aren asked gently.

“What do you think? A lord’s son thought anything, or anyone he saw was his for the taking, including my daughter.” Annikke pulled Benoia into a fierce hug.

There was no shame in young folk sharing the pleasures of their bodies, but it should be just that, a sharing. Not a violent, forceful
taking
of something not freely offered. She wanted better memories for Benoia than that. Better memories than Annikke had. Tears tracked her cheeks, but she paid them no mind. If the man thought her weak, he’d soon learn differently.

Aren turned his upper body to face the women. “I’m sorry. It’s clear to me that Sveyn was in the wrong, and it will be clear to Lord Dahleven as well, I’m sure.”

“He’s a lord!” Annikke scoffed. “And lords stick together.”

“The Jarl is a fair man. He will deal honestly with you, if you’re honest with him.”

“You know the Jarl so well as that, do you, that you can speak for him?” Annikke didn’t try to conceal her derision. “I think it more likely that you’d say anything to make us compliant. A handsome fellow like you no doubt expects to get whatever you want from women. A few honeyed words and they just drop into your hand.
I
will not.”

The man laughed, and it was a bitter sound. “Mistress Annikke, you’re right. I cannot speak for the Jarl. But I do not believe Lord Fendrikanin would serve a man so unjust that he would punish a woman wrongfully accused. If you do not come back with me, and you elude me, some other man will be sent to hunt you. You will never be able to rest. What life is that for the girl?”

Annikke pressed her lips tightly together, unhappy that he’d given her own argument back to her. She stood there, still holding Benoia, with the girl’s arms still wrapped around her, and tried to think of some other way. She couldn’t find one, no more than she’d been able to for the last few days. “He’s right, girl,” she said softly as the horse tossed its head, tugging the reins. Benoia stepped out of Annikke’s embrace to keep control of the beast.

Benoia lifted a tear stained face, but her expression was fierce. “Then it should be me who goes to Quartzholm. You’re not responsible. I don’t want them to blame you for what I did. You should go home to our cottage.”

“And let you face Tholvar and Sveyn by yourself? No.” Annikke put her hands on Benoia’s cheeks and smiled even though she felt like crying too. She wiped the girl’s tears away with her thumbs. “I won’t let them separate us. You’ll not face this alone,” she murmured.

Then she turned and reached into the thicket, holding out her hand to their captor.

*

Aren took Annikke’s hand, gently wrapping his fingers around hers. As he did, the saplings that held his legs no longer restrained him. Her hand was warm and strong, but he read the promise in her eyes:
Bring harm to my daughter and I’ll have your skin.

She’d have to get in line. The Elves had made no specific threats if he didn’t protect Annikke, but he didn’t doubt there would be consequences if he failed to pay his debt. Beyond that, his honor wouldn’t allow him to shirk his obligation. How he would fulfill both his debt to Torlon and his duty to Lord Dahleven, he didn’t yet know.

Benoia glared at him and gave him a wide berth. The young woman was small and slender, and looked younger than her seventeen summers. She held herself rigidly, with lifted chin and squared shoulders. He thought of his own daughter, Tandra, and recognized that Benoia was struggling to maintain a tenuous self-control.

Aren wouldn’t challenge her. He had no way of knowing the truth of the matter, beyond the gossip he’d gathered, but if half of what he’d heard about Sveyn was true, Benoia deserved to keep what dignity she could. Had someone treated Tandra with the disrespect that Sveyn had apparently shown Benoia, he’d have seen the young lord lying scattered in pieces. He scowled at the thought, and Benoia flinched.

“What now?” Annikke asked.

Aren looked at the Fey-marked woman. Fatigue and worry shadowed her eyes and there was a smudge on her cheek that he wanted to reach out and wipe away. Her glorious silver hair was coming loose from a braid that hung down to her waist. Falling free, he could imagine that tips of those strands would tease her nicely rounded rear. He would enjoy brushing those silver locks.

“Will you tie us up and drag us behind your horse?”

Annikke’s blunt question shook him free of his inappropriate thoughts.

Aren looked at the sun’s position, gauging the time left in the day. Should they travel a distance to burn off some of the fight the women still had in them, or give them a respite to get used to him first? Aren looked from one to the other. He’d been on their trail since dawn with no break. He suspected they’d taken none, either.

“I haven’t eaten since before daylight,” he said. “Shall we break our fast before we continue?”

Annikke and Benoia exchanged a glance, then Annikke nodded.

The day’s eye was past zenith and the afternoon had grown warm, so they tucked themselves into the dappled shadows from one of the taller trees. Aren loosened the cinch on Pinter’s saddle and picketed her in a patch of meadow grass. The women shared nuts and a chunk of yellow cheese between them. Aren dug out a hunk of journey-bread and a bit of jerked venison.

They ate in silence. Aren watched the women, and the women watched him back, not even trying to pretend they weren’t.

Aren finished his portion before Annikke and Benoia did theirs, but he saw no point in rushing them. They had candlemarks of sunlight left, and since the women had traveled away from the closest road to Quartzholm, it would take at least two days to backtrack through the forest to the road.

“What’s Quartzholm like?” Benoia asked.

The girl’s question surprised Aren. He hadn’t thought she would speak to him directly. “It’s big. Magnificent, actually. The outer walls are granite, but much of the castle is rose quartz. Great Talents crafted it before Fanlon’s time, so the walls are smooth and seamless except where Talents have carved scenes of beauty into the stone. It’s a bit of a maze, and it’s easy to get lost among the many halls and staircases. Outside the wall, there’s a village that surrounds the castle and flows down the hillside.”

Benoia nodded and bit her lips.

Aren realized that what she really wanted to know was,
What will happen to us there?
So he continued as if she’d spoken the words. “After we pass through the gates, I’ll escort you to Lord Fender. I expect he’ll arrange for you to bathe and eat before you go before Lord Dahleven, but if he doesn’t, I will.” Whatever they’d done, for whatever reason, they deserved that courtesy.

Benoia’s brows rose in either surprise or skepticism, he couldn’t tell. He didn’t think she was aware of breathing the words, “A bath,” with apparent longing.

A smile played at the edges of Annikke’s mouth. Had she needed to wrestle Benoia into the bath when she was younger, as he had his own daughter?

When they’d all finished their meal, Aren tightened the cinch on his horse’s saddle and said, “Mistress Annikke, if you mount first, Benoia can ride behind you.”

Annikke’s brows rose. “
We’re
to ride?”

“This beast can easily carry you both.”

“No, I mean, you’re letting
us
ride?”

Aren tried not to take affront. “I’m no lord to ride while women walk.”

“But we’re accused of harming a man.”

“Accused is not guilty.” He gestured for Annikke to come closer to the horse.

“Few would agree with you.”Annikke said.

He thought of how the villagers of his youth had turned on his father even before they’d known the truth, how they’d made Aren’s life harder because of who his father was. “I won’t judge without proof. But I
will
ask you for your parole. I’d rather not have to tie you each night. Swear to me that you will not try to escape, or to injure me in my sleep.”

“I swear to accompany you to Quartzholm with complete docility,” Annikke said.

Benoia laughed. “Docility? I’ll go with you to Quartzholm just to see this wonder.”

“Benoia.” Aren spoke in the same gruff tone he used to reprove his daughter. “Show Annikke the respect she deserves.”

Benoia’s expression flashed from outrage to shame before she looked down at her feet. “I beg pardon, Annikke.”

“Granted. Now swear your parole.”

The young woman lifted her head and met Aren’s gaze. “I swear to you that I will neither attempt escape nor will I harm you—unless you try to harm me or Annikke.”

Aren nodded to each of the women. “Accepted.” He made a step of his laced fingers. “Annikke?”

She took a step back and looked up. “I’ve treated horses, but never been on one. It looks very tall.”

“But beautiful,” Benoia said, petting Pinter’s nose. “Is she yours?”

Aren shook his head, standing straight and letting his hands relax by his sides. “On loan to me for this task.”