The Saints of the Sword (31 page)

By the time they reached the outskirts of their mountain home, Jahl’s shoulder was smarting. The bandages Ricken had arranged were holding, but the blood was starting to soak through. Soon they would need changing. But there was work to do first, one particularly dreadful job. When he sighted the winding road leading to his stronghold, he noticed a young boy waiting there for him. His resolve collapsed like a waterfall.

“Alain,” Ricken whispered.

“Keep moving,” Jahl told them. There was no hiding from Alain now, and it was better to face Del’s brother quickly and get it done. Jahl was glad that Alazrian Leth was with them. There was a lesson in this for their captive. “Leth,” he called over his shoulder. “You see that boy ahead?”

“Yes,” Alazrian replied.

“That’s the brother of the man you killed.”

“I didn’t kill anyone,” Alazrian protested.

“He’s the last son of the House of Lotts. His name is Alain, and he’s twelve years old.”

Alazrian raced forward, glowering at Jahl. “It wasn’t me,” he railed. “You saw yourself. Shinn killed your friend. I won’t let you blame me for it.”

But Jahl was in the mood to be ruthless. “It’s all the same to me, Leth. Now I want you to see what good came of your patrol. That was it, wasn’t it? Weren’t you looking for us?”

“Well, yes, but—”

“So you found us. Congratulations.” Jahl pointed toward his keep, a collection of high peaks and caverns on the south side of the run. “You see? That’s my home. That’s what you and your father have driven us to.”

“You’re wrong,” said Alazrian bitterly. “I’m nothing like my father.”

Jahl wasn’t listening. He trotted his horse closer to the waiting Alain, saying, “Come along, boy. There’s bad business to attend to.”

Alain didn’t wait for them to come to him. The youngster sprinted forward, first with a look of glee, then with a face of unspeakable dread. Jahl watched him tallying up the riders, spotting the dead body slumped over the horse and not seeing his brother anywhere. Jahl steeled himself. To his shock, Alazrian stopped his horse and dismounted, holding up a hand to Alain.

“What are you doing?” Jahl asked, bringing his own horse to a halt. Others were gathering in the road now, fellow Saints who had seen the party arriving. Alazrian ignored them all, concentrating only on the horror-stricken Alain.

“Alain Lotts,” he called to the boy, “my name is Alazrian Leth. Your brother is dead.”

“Leth!” Jahl protested.

Alazrian Leth took a step closer to Alain, who was walking slowly now, dragging his feet. Alain’s brow wrinkled; he was on the verge of tears.

The young Leth’s tone was comforting. “He died well, defending his friends,” he told Alain. “I want you to know I had nothing to do with his dying. Please believe that.” Then he shot Jahl a glare. “No matter what you hear.”

“Dead?” croaked Alain, slowly approaching his brother’s horse. When he reached the body he inspected it in disbelief. “No. That’s not possible …”

“I’m sorry, Alain,” said Jahl. The priest dropped from his horse and went over to the boy, sliding an arm around his shoulders. He could feel Alain begin to tremble. “It’s no one’s fault. Least of all Del’s.”

“Del,” Alain moaned. “Del …”

He started to weep, great wracking sobs that came up from his chest. With both hands he grabbed at his dead brother, shaking him, trying to force him awake. Jahl took hold of Alain as gently as he could, wrapping his arms around him, letting him cry.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered, kissing Alain’s head. “I’m so sorry.”

“Who did this? Who killed Del?”

“Easy,” Jahl soothed. “Easy …”

“What happened?” Alain demanded. He tried to break free of Jahl’s grip, to go back to his brother and shake him awake. “Tell me who killed him!”

Jahl Rob held on to Alain as tightly as he could, letting the boy’s wails fill his ears and his tears strike his chest. He said nothing about Shinn or the Talistanian soldiers, nor did he blame Alazrian Leth for Del’s death. It was all pointless now, anyway. As Alain dissolved into sobs, Jahl glanced at Alazrian and saw that he, too, was weeping.

Alazrian sat alone in the corner of the cave apart from the campfire and the men gathered there. It was very late now. He could see the sky just beyond the silhouettes of his captors, dark with night. They were very high up in the mountains, in the same peaks he and Shinn had spotted earlier. A melancholy pall had settled over the stronghold. The men around the fire, at least a dozen of them, hardly spoke. None of them talked to Alazrian or offered him any of their food. They simply ignored their prisoner, leaving him relatively unguarded in the corner of the cave. Alazrian supposed they were waiting for Jahl Rob. The thought of facing the priest again didn’t leaven his mood. Jahl seemed like nothing more than a small-minded pirate, a wild brigand who might just deserve the wound Shinn had given him.

“Shinn,” grumbled Alazrian. That bastard had tried to kill him because his so-called father had ordered it. The old hatred boiled up inside Alazrian. He imagined Leth back in Aramoor playing cards with Shinn and laughing as the Dorian explained how his “son” had been captured,
and quite likely killed by the Saints. Or maybe Leth simply thought Jahl Rob would hold him hostage. That idea frightened Alazrian. It was the first time he’d considered it, but it suddenly seemed possible. Maybe Rob would try to ransom him. If so, he wouldn’t get a penny out of Elrad Leth. Alazrian wrapped his arms around his legs, drawing himself into a ball and lowering his chin to his knees. He was tired and hungry. The smells from the cooking pots made his stomach grumble. He considered asking his captors for food, then dismissed the idea. He didn’t want to appear weak. That was what they wanted.

It wasn’t until much later that Jahl Rob reappeared. Alazrian had fallen asleep on the floor of the cave, but the entrance of the priest awakened him. The fire still crackled a few yards away, and as Alazrian opened his eyes he noticed Rob squatting down by the fire, whispering to the handful of men who remained in the cave. The priest glanced over at Alazrian, said a few more words to his companions, then picked up a bowl and fished a ladle-full of food out of one of the pots. The thought of food immediately started Alazrian’s stomach rumbling. He sat up, supposing that Rob had ladled the stew for himself. But Jahl Rob surprised him. He left the fire and strode toward the corner where Alazrian waited, his face unreadable in the orange glow. The priest had changed his bloodied clothes and now appeared perfectly fit, as though Shinn’s arrow had never touched him. Remarkably, the men around the campfire all rose and left the cave, leaving them alone.

“You must be hungry,” said Jahl Rob. “Here.” He handed the bowl down to Alazrian who eagerly accepted it, but he didn’t eat. Instead he looked at Rob suspiciously. The priest rolled his eyes. “It isn’t poisoned,” he snapped. “Just eat. I know you’re hungry.”

“I am,” Alazrian admitted. He glanced down at the bowl, picked up his spoon, and took a mouthful of the stew. It was flavorless and thin, but it was also hot and remarkably welcome. Alazrian offered Rob a grateful nod. “Thank you.”

“You must be cold.” Jahl turned and walked toward the flames. “Come and sit by the fire.”

“I’m fine here.”

“Well I’m not. Come on.”

Alazrian took another two spoonfuls of stew before following Jahl. The priest sat down next to the fire, tossing a few more sticks onto it to build the blaze. The flames were warm on Alazrian’s face, a welcome respite from the hard, cold stone of his corner. He lowered himself to the ground, sitting next to Rob but not too close. Rob watched him eat. Alazrian didn’t let the intrusion spoil his meal. He emptied the bowl in a few more spoonfuls, occasionally glancing at his captor. Jahl Rob was an impressive man for a priest. He was muscular, neither young nor old, and he wore his hair loosely, as if he’d never seen a comb. Alazrian didn’t know what to think of him.

“You and I have much to talk about,” said Rob finally.

It wasn’t a question, so Alazrian didn’t reply. The priest put his hands up to the fire to warm them.

“It gets cold up here, even in springtime,” he said. “Tell me something, Leth. Why did you go to Alain when you saw him?”

Alazrian laid aside his bowl. “Seemed like the thing to do.”

“But you wept when he wept,” observed Rob. “I’ve been thinking about that.”

“Why?”

Jahl Rob rubbed his hands together and shrugged. “Just curious, I suppose. I was very angry at you. But I was wrong to blame you for Del. It was Shinn that killed him, after all.”

“I’m glad to hear you admit it,” said Alazrian. “Shinn is no friend of mine.”

“Oh, I believe you. He was trying to kill you, wasn’t he?”

The question surprised Alazrian. How much did he want to tell the priest? But it seemed senseless to refute the point, so Alazrian nodded. “Yes. It seems that Elrad Leth wants me dead. I guess I’m still not man enough for him.”

“Your father told Shinn to kill you?”

“He’s not my father. And thank God for that.”

Then Alazrian realized what he’d said and glanced
away from Rob, hoping to end the conversation, but the priest stared at him. Alazrian knew that he had opened a gate and wouldn’t be able to close it.

“Ah, what does it matter?” he grumbled, picking up a stick and tossing it angrily into the flames. “You’re going to find out everything anyway. I’m trapped here. I can’t go back home, and I can’t do what I came for.” He made a fist and punched the ground, frustrated and afraid. Jahl Rob would find out everything he wanted to know because it made no sense to hide it anymore. Suddenly, nothing in the world made sense.

“Am I your prisoner?” he asked. “Are you going to kill me the way you did Viscount Dinsmore? Or do you want to ransom me? Because if that’s your plan—”

“Easy,” said Rob. “No one is going to kill you. We’re not murderers.”

“Right. Tell that to Dinsmore and the others.”

“We’re freedom fighters,” Rob retorted. “Dinsmore got what he deserved. I know, because God told me so. And killing you wouldn’t serve any purpose. So just calm down. I have questions for you.”

“What questions?”

“Many things,” said Rob. “But first, tell me who you are.”

“You know who I am.”

The priest shook his head. “No. I know what your name is. But I don’t know
who you are
, Alazrian Leth.”

“Oh,” Alazrian murmured. “You mean my father.”

“That’s right. Do you know who your real father is?”

“Yes,” said Alazrian. He smiled feebly at the priest. “But it’s sort of a long story.”

“I have time.”

“What will you do with me?” asked Alazrian. “Will you send me back to Aramoor?”

“Ah, now you play games with me, boy …”

“No. It’s just something I think I should know. You’ve had some time to think about it. So? What have you decided?”

Jahl Rob scowled at Alazrian. “I know nothing about you, and if you don’t tell me soon maybe I will send you
back to Aramoor. Would you like that? Then Shinn can finish his handiwork.” The priest leaned forward. “Tell me who your father is. Tell me why you and the others came here.”

“We came to find you,” Alazrian answered, avoiding the first part of the query. “Isn’t that obvious? After you killed Dinsmore, my father …” He corrected himself. “Elrad Leth, I mean, got angry. He sent Shinn and the others to find your hiding place. They mean to send more men in after you.”

“And did they?” pressed Jahl.

“Did they what?”

“Find this stronghold? Shinn got away, you know. Did he discover where we live?”

“Yes,” admitted Alazrian. “He doesn’t know for certain that this is the stronghold, but he guessed it. We could all see it from the road and, well, it just seemed to make sense. Shinn knows where you and your Saints are, Jahl Rob. He’ll tell Elrad Leth.”

The priest’s expression darkened. “God help us,” he whispered, turning to gaze at the fire. “Why were you with them? Did Leth make you go?”

“No,” said Alazrian. “I asked to go.”

This caught Rob’s attention. “Why?”

Alazrian knew he had to make a decision. He wanted desperately to trust Jahl Rob, if only to have a confidant. The danger of confessing the truth kept nagging at him, though.

Jahl Rob sensed his confusion. The priest shifted a little closer. “Alazrian,” he began softly, “you might think I’m a stupid man, but I can tell that you’re hiding something. Now, you don’t have to tell me who your father is if you don’t want to. That’s your business. But I need to know why you chose to come here with Shinn. If it concerns the safety of my Saints, I won’t let you keep it secret.”

There was gentleness in his voice. Again Alazrian felt the urge to divulge it, as though he were in a confession booth and Rob some kind-hearted cleric.

“I want to trust you,” said Alazrian finally. “But I’m afraid.”

“It’s only you and me here, boy. I’m a priest, don’t forget.
Confession is a sacrament. If you tell me something in confidence, I won’t use it against you.”

“I don’t believe that,” said Alazrian.

“It would be a sin,” Rob retorted sternly. “That is all I can promise you. Frankly, boy, I don’t know what else to do with you. I can’t send you back to your father, can I? If he tried to kill you once, then I suppose he’d try again. And if you stay here with us you’ll be in equal danger. So what am I to do, eh?”

“If I tell you, will you let me go? Your word now, as a priest. Will you release me if I tell you why I came here?”

“Release you?” asked Jahl. “Where would you go?”

“Your promise first. Swear it out loud, so God can hear you.”

Jahl Rob crossed himself. “I will let you go on your way, wherever that may be. On my priestly soul, so do I swear.” Then he waited for Alazrian to speak, sitting back patiently, his face placid. Alazrian steeled himself. Once he made his confession, there would be no turning back.

“I don’t have a choice, so I’ll tell you the truth,” he began. “I didn’t join Shinn’s patrol to find you and your Saints. I came because I was looking for the Triin.”

The slightest crack appeared in Rob’s countenance. “Go on.”

“I have a message to deliver, a note from someone very important. I have to get it to the Triin, and I thought I would find them here. They’re supposed to be in the mountains, guarding it.” Alazrian stood up suddenly, frustrated. It was all spilling out of him, and in his fear and desperation he wanted to unload the weight he’d been bearing alone for weeks. “I don’t know if I should tell you any more,” he said, pacing around the fire. “But I have to get to the Triin. I have to deliver my message so that they will take me to Lucel-Lor.”