Samual (57 page)

“Yes Elder.” Ryshal bowed her head. She agreed with him completely. It was a shameful thing to even think of killing a man, but in this case it seemed the only thing to do. If he was free he would only cause more suffering. That was his nature.

“This poison was fed to him by his mother in his very milk.” Ryshal's father abruptly spoke up startling everyone. He had been completely silent until then. “He is undoubtedly guilty of a great many crimes. But a crime was done to him before he was even old enough to understand.”

“True.” The Elder nodded sadly. “But it does not change things.”

“It does perhaps suggest that he should make restitution to his victims. And that his fate should lie with them. And there is one here with us who has suffered a life time because of the crimes of his mother. One who his words could perhaps heal.”

“It would not be right to send Samual to meet him. To have brother killing brother. And he has many duties here.”

“I was not thinking of Samual, Elder,” Pietral answered him. “I was thinking of Samual's sister.”

“Sister?” The Elder sounded surprised.

“Mayvelle Ellosian. A woman of great anger since she found out that her mother was poisoned by Heri's mother. And who believes falsely that her father was responsible. There is a rift in the family because of it. If it is at all possible I would like to see that rift healed.”

Her father was right Ryshal realised. And it was a clever idea. To at least heal one small hurt would be a good thing. And she would be grateful if it could in turn heal her husband. He still felt anger for what Mayvelle had said. The charges she had laid at his dead father's feet. He controlled it, tried to hide it from her, but it was there. But Mayvelle might not be so amenable to having her hurt fixed. She was comfortable with her pain. It had become a part of her. And so the chances were that she would simply kill Heri on the spot rather than ask him the questions she needed to.

In a strange way the two of them were alike. Both proud and both stubborn. Both prone to anger. And both soldiers. So she had to believe that if they were the same in those things then they were also the same in having good hearts. And a good heart could make up for a lot of faults.

Still, Ryshal thought there was hope. She would go to the temple such as it was and offer a prayer to the Goddess that Mayvelle would ask of Heri the questions in her heart – before she killed him! After all the Goddess had kept her alive for all those years in her cell, and shaped her husband into the Fire Angel. She could do something for his sister, surely.

And maybe she suddenly thought, that was why Heri was so different from his brother. Samual believed. He followed the All Father instead of the Goddess, but at least he chose to follow a god. Heri believed in no one but himself. He was godless. Godless and a slave to his own depravity.

Maybe she should say a prayer for him as well. A prayer that he would finally find the Goddess. Even if it was in death.

It had been a hard ride through the desert. Dry and dusty and the heat had been no friend of hers. But despite the hardships they had made good time, managing to reach and then cross the Dead Creek Pass in under a month. She knew she should be pleased with that. But really Mayvelle was quietly groaning at the thought that the journey was only half over. They had to return yet. Almost as soon as they met up with Heri. But they had packed for it. They had good food, lots of water and good steeds. Mayvelle expected that they would complete their mission in the minimum time.

And when she spotted the wagon in the distance as they exited the pass, she guessed that they would be starting their return journey within a matter of hours. There wouldn't even be time to rest.

Mayvelle was surprised that Heri was there already. She had expected to have to wait here at this last watering hole for some time, perhaps even weeks, waiting for Heri to show up. He was in a wagon after all. But somehow he had matched them for speed. Partly she guessed that that was because his wagon was a coach drawn by four horses. But mostly she suspected it was because he was under a compulsion. He had had to get here as quickly as possible.

He did not look well. As they approached the former king she became convinced of that. Sickness showed in his eyes and exhaustion was etched into the lines of his face. It was as if he had driven the horses day and night to get here. That he hadn't rested in all that time. Maybe he hadn't? Elder Bela was a master of the natural magics and she imagined that if he put a compulsion on someone it would force them to do whatever he required, regardless of their physical failings.

She didn't care about that though. She cared only that he was a monster. And that Elder Bela not only knew that she was Samual's sister, but that he had insisted she speak with Heri about her parent's deaths. She didn't want to do that. But she also didn't want to disobey an elder. Or upset her own parents either.

Things had been uneasy in the family home ever since they had told her the truth. For that reason she had been grateful to be able to spend as much time as she could with her patrol. Still, she had had to go home every so often and face the truth that not only were her parents not her parents but rather her aunt and uncle, but that they had lied to her for her entire life. It had not been an easy thing to accept. And if what her brother had told her was correct, they had possibly lied to her about more than just her parentage. She didn't know if she could face the thought that they might have simply abducted her from her dead mother's arms without truly believing that her father was responsible for Alliye's death.

That was why she'd perhaps responded so aggressively to Samual's denials of his father's nature. More harshly than she should have. Because it seemed that either her brother was lying about their father, and she was the daughter of a murdered woman and her murderer. Or her parents were lying and she had been abducted and stolen from a loving father. Neither option was good. And now she was due to find out the truth.

The patrol covered the last little distance to where Heri was sitting on his coach waiting for them. Before going forward she and her patrol checked that there was no ambush waiting for them. It was something they did almost by reflex whenever they arrived somewhere. And if there was anyone who would set one up, it would be Heri. He was nothing short of evil. And he was her half-brother as she had to keep reminding herself.

By the Goddess – how could she be related to this piece of vermin?! It was just plain wrong. She could live with the thought of Samual Hanor as her brother. He was arrogant and short tempered, and clearly he had no understanding of elven sensibilities. But at least he was honourable. But Heri?! That was simply too terrible for words.

There was no trap of course. Though really, she would have thought anyone willing to take on a patrol of sixty elven soldiers would want an army with him. She had no doubt that Heri would have had one with him if he could have. But equally she knew that he couldn't set a trap for them. Apart from the compulsion which she knew would keep him under control Heri was fairly obviously at his end. This was not the arrogant, devious and monstrous creature who had attacked them before. This was a wretch.

“Heri Hanor?” Captain Yossil greeted him. Heri just nodded in reply.

“Is all as it should be?”

“Yes.” Heri bowed his head, clearly exhausted. He might even have been expecting to be killed.

And really Mayvelle thought, if there was any justice in their path they would kill him. An arrow through the heart would be quick and clean and it would stop him from harming others. But the Elder had told them not to. Heri had committed many crimes since being released from their care, but none against their people. He was a human and should be tried by his own people.

“Then you may get down from the wagon and depart, after you have answered some questions.”

“Questions?” But even as he asked Heri was already getting down from the coach.

“Ellosian!” The Captain called to her and immediately Mayvelle dismounted and walked towards her half-brother. Meanwhile the others were dismounting and leading their horses to the creek. It was time to drink their fill.

“Captain.” She nodded respectfully to her commanding officer.

“You have only a short while. I want to be gone from here as soon as possible.”

“Thank you Captain.” She nodded again and turned to Heri.

“You know of the deaths of Alliye Ellosian and Eric Hanor. Tell me of them.” She put it simply, and didn't care if he recognised that her name too was Ellosian. She didn't even care if he refused to answer. Mostly she just wanted him gone.

“My mother killed them both. Hemlock and blood bane as I understand it. She fed the elven bitch the mixture over several long months, trying to kill her before she gave birth to another bastard child, but she was strong and lived as long as she could. My father she poisoned directly at his breakfast table, and then stabbed him with a dart to make it look as though an assassin had killed him. It was a desperate act, but she truly hated him.”

For the longest time Mayvelle stood there staring at him, wondering how he could speak so casually about something so terrible. He was talking about the murder of his own father! It was beyond her ken. And yet the death of his father clearly meant nothing to Heri. What sort of coldness was that? Eventually though an obvious question did cross her mind.

“Why?”

“To rule of course. The elven whore was in her way. She was not and could not be queen but while she lived she prevented my mother from taking that place. She had to go. And then she did not want to have to live in the shadow of the king. So she spent years trying to kill my father. From soon after I was born in fact. She did it so she could be regent – queen in all but name.”

“She would have killed me too in time. As soon as she had another heir to secure her position. But I was too quick for her.” Heri smiled unexpectedly, the first sign of emotion he had shown.

“It doesn't upset you that she murdered your father?” Mayvelle wasn't sure she wanted to ask the question as she feared the answer. But the words slipped out before she could stop them.

“Upset me?” Heri looked surprised. “Why? My father had no time for me. He was always with his precious first born. The son of his only love. Prattling on about things like honour and nobility. And I had no time for him either. He was stupid and slow. I would have killed him myself when I came of age to claim the throne.” He stared straight at Mayvelle as he said it, his gaze unflinching.

It was the truth, Mayvelle knew. Cold, bare and uncompromising. That was who and what Heri was. It was also presumably who and what his mother had been in order to raise him to be that. Samual had been right. His father – their father – had not been the killer her parents had told her he was. They might have been wrong rather than lying. But they had still stolen her from a father who would have loved her. That was a bitter potion to swallow.

“Thank you. Captain.” Mayvelle turned and nodded to her commanding officer. Then she walked back to her horse who had by then had its fill of the water and was chewing contentedly on the grass. Her questions had been answered. It was just a pity that she didn't like the answers.

And then she mounted up and waited while others tended to the important things. Checking on the new horses, making sure they had enough water to drink and had not been run too hard for too long. Checking on the contents of the coach to make sure that what had been promised was there and intact. Filling water bags from the nearby creek. Preparing for the journey back. It took a while but soon everything was done and in order.

But there was still one more thing to do before they could set off.

“Heri Hanor.” The Captain addressed the wretch standing to one side. “The elders have said that you may go free – but only after you have drunk this.” He pulled a small stoppered bottle from his saddle bags.

“Poison?” Heri didn't even sound upset. He sounded broken. He looked it too, and he was scarcely able to meet the Captain's eyes.

“No. Just something to ensure that you commit no more crimes. A blessed vial from the priests of the Goddess.”

A potion of adherence was what the priest who had brought it to the Captain had called it. A potion blessed by the temple so that those whoever drank it could never go against the will of the Goddess. And the Goddess did not tolerate murder. Mayvelle had been curious when she had watched the priest bring the potion to them. More though by the priest than the potion. He had been a human. That was unusual though the temple did not discriminate. But what had most marked him out as unusual for her was the man's beard. It had been a curious mass of curls and ringlets that she was sure had to be cultivated somehow. Hair simply did not grow like that. But if the potion worked as promised and Heri was prevented from committing any more crimes, then that was all that mattered. Not the strange grooming of a strange priest.

“I do not believe in the gods. What have they ever done for me?” Heri looked as though he wanted to refuse.

“Well then my orders are clear.” The Captain waved and instantly sixty longbows were raised and the arrows pointed at Heri's chest. “You will either drink this or you will die here where you stand.”

Heri stared at the longbows and the arrows pointed at him, and seemed to think things over. But it wasn't courage that made him stand there defiantly Mayvelle thought. It was tiredness. He was at his end and he saw little hope ahead of him. Eventually though some remaining thought of self-preservation took hold.

“Fine.” He walked awkwardly toward the Captain and took the bottle from his hands. Then he unstoppered and upended it, swallowing the contents in front of them.

Nothing happened after that and Mayvelle was disappointed. It would have been nice to have seen him start clutching at his throat and fall to the ground, breathing his last. Or better yet if he had burst into flames. But the elders would not do that she knew. Nor would the priests.

“And so you are now bound to the Goddess' law,” the Captain told Heri, as if he had passed sentence upon him. And maybe he had. “You may go.”

“Be quick soldiers! I want to be gone from this place before I grow old.” The Captain turned to the rest of them and gave the order and most of the rest of the patrol mounted up. The rest hurried whatever they were doing.

Mayvelle was happy to go. More than happy. She didn't want to be here any longer. Not even when she saw the small, broken figure of her half-brother trudging dispiritedly away with only the clothes on his back.

This had not been a good day. And there were worse ones ahead. The day when she would have to approach her parents with this truth. And the day when she would have to apologise to her brother.