Throne of Llewyllan (Book 2) (2 page)

Hurt showed in the beautiful young woman’s eyes. “I’m still the same person you know, Kendril. I’m still
me
.”

“Really?” said Kendril, his voice filled with venom. “And who exactly would that be? Jade or Serentha?”

“Enough,” she said. “I’m
Jade
, Kendril.”

“And I should call you that, I suppose? Lord Bathsby out there might have a problem with that. And most of your kingdom, too, I’d wager.” The Ghostwalker swore softly, looking away. “Things have changed,
Your Highness
. Let’s not pretend otherwise.”

There was silence between them for a moment. The only sound was that of the wind outside the tent, and the flapping of the flags just outside the entrance.

Kendril looked down at the ground by one of the tent sides. He took a deep breath.

“I should go,” he said. “I need to track Simon down. That dumb mule is long overdue for a carrot.”

Serentha sank into the chair, her hands folded in her lap and her eyes on the ground in front of her. She nodded, but said nothing.

Kendril hesitated for a moment, then raised his hood and turned towards the flap.

“Kendril?” Serentha said quietly. “Will…you come back with me to Balneth?”

The Ghostwalker stopped, one hand on the opening. He looked down at the ground, but made no reply.

Serentha looked up, her voice suddenly hard. “I see. Be sure to see Bathsby before you go, then. He’ll pay you for your services.”

Kendril glared back at her for a moment, then exited the tent.

“Ah, Mr. Kendril,” came Bathsby’s pleasant voice as the Ghostwalker walked into the bright sunshine. “You will no doubt be happy to hear that we have recovered your weapons, and the mule you had inquired about as well.” The nobleman noticed the sour look on the young man’s face. “Is everything all right?”

“Fine.” Kendril took off his gloves, and shoved them into his belt.

Bathsby gave the Ghostwalker a curious glance. “We can take care of your animal if you would like, at least until we get to Balneth.”

“I won’t be going to Balneth,” said Kendril tightly.

“I’m very sorry to hear that,” said Bathsby. He stuck out a gloved hand. “It has been a great pleasure meeting you, Mr. Kendril. I wish you well in your journey.”

Kendril took the hand, shaking it briefly. He started down the slight grassy slope away from the tent.

One of Bathsby’s captains came up next to him, watching Kendril’s dark shape as he walked across the grass. The man gave a quick shudder.

“Can’t say I’ll be sorry to see him go. You never know what a Ghostwalker is going to do.”

“No,” said Bathsby thoughtfully, stroking his beard. “You certainly don’t.”

As the sun rose higher in the sky, the fire had been left to slowly die. All that remained now were some smoking embers. Kendril walked towards the long wooden table, turning one of his pistols over in his hands.

Maklavir was lying in a relaxed pose on the ground, his cap over his face and his arms crossed behind his head. He moved the hat up as Kendril approached.

 “I see you have retrieved your arsenal.” Maklavir chuckled. “Are you sure you have
all
your guns?”

Kendril grunted in response. Satisfied with his examination, he took the gun and stuck it in his belt. “Where’s Joseph?”

Maklavir sat up, stretching his back. “Out in the woods, collecting herbs.”

“You’re joking.”

“Sadly, no.” The diplomat pulled himself up on one of the wooden benches, and replaced the cap on his head. “You talked with Serentha?”

The Ghostwalker gave him a hard glance. “Yes.”

Maklavir folded his hands in front of him. “Well? What did she have to say? How is she doing?”

“You saw her,” said Kendril briskly. “She’s fine.” He looked back over the clearing towards the edge of the woods. “Well, I guess this is goodbye.”

The diplomat raised an eyebrow. “You’re leaving?”

“I’ve been here too long already. It’s time to move on.”

Maklavir rose up in his seat. “You’re not coming to Balneth? But I thought Serentha—”

“I heard what she said. Tell Joseph I’m sorry I missed him.” He turned.

Maklavir furrowed his brow. “What about that conspiracy theory of yours? Isn’t the princess in danger?”

“She seems to be perfectly well looked after,” said Kendril bitterly. He looked back at the diplomat. “What do you care, anyway?”

“How can I
not
care? I’ve practically been killed three or four times over in as many days because of her.” He shrugged. “She’s our friend.”

“Not anymore,” said Kendril. “Not now.”

Maklavir gave the Ghostwalker a hard look. “You left on good terms with her, I assume?”

Kendril didn’t answer. He turned to go once more.

The diplomat got quickly to his feet. “Kendril--?”

The Ghostwalker whirled around. “You know what, Maklavir? Stay out of my life.”

“Too late for that,” Maklavir replied quickly. “If had I wanted to stay out of your life I should have left both of you back at the Outpost.”

“Maybe you should have,” said Kendril.

“I couldn’t,” Maklavir said, his eyes narrowing, “and neither could you. Jade needed our help, Kendril. What we were supposed to do, hand her over to those bounty hunters?”

Kendril said nothing, but turned again to go.

“So that’s it?” Maklavir called after him. “You’re just going to leave her?”

“She doesn’t need me,” said Kendril over his shoulder.

The diplomat gave a dark laugh. “Doesn’t need you? You really are blind, aren’t you? Haven’t you seen the way she looks at you?”

Kendril stopped. He looked back. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Maklavir sighed. “She’s smitten with you, Kendril. She has been since the first day I met her.”

“That’s crazy,” responded Kendril angrily.

“It’s true,” said Maklavir.

The Ghostwalker took a step towards Maklavir. “I’ve taken a vow. She knows that.”

“Yes,” Maklavir continued dryly, “well I’ve rarely found women to think logically about anything, especially love. You can’t just leave like this, Kendril. I’m telling you that as a friend.”

“You’re not my friend,” Kendril said sharply.

“I see,” returned Maklavir. “So who exactly
are
your friends, Kendril? That mule of yours? Those pistols you carry around?”

Kendril’s lip curled. “What does it matter to you?”

The diplomat leaned forward, his eyes filled with intensity. “Have you for one moment stopped to consider what she is going through? What she’s feeling right now? Talin’s ashes, man, the girl has just had her whole world collapse around her.”

“She doesn’t seem to be doing too badly,” Kendril commented acidly.

“You can’t seriously believe that.” Maklavir’s eyes flashed. “She needs our help and our friendship, Kendril, not our animosity. Especially
you
.”

The Ghostwalker looked away for a moment, his face wreathed in shadow. For a long moment he said nothing.

“I can’t help her.”

“Why not?”

Kendril turned his face back around, and Maklavir was momentarily startled by the expression on his face.

“I can’t—” he said through clenched teeth, “because I’ve made a
vow
.”

Maklavir stared at the Ghostwalker, stunned at the sudden change in him. “I see,” he said at last, his voice slightly shaken. “I won’t bring it up again.”

Kendril nodded, looking away again. “Don’t,” he said.

He turned and walked away.

The soldiers had done their job well. Only seven bandits, including Torin and Kara, were alive. Three of them were wounded, one badly. All were being held on the western side of the clearing, out in the open grass. The nearest edge of the forest was at least fifty yards away, and soldiers in white uniforms were watching them constantly, though always staying at a distance.

Escape, unfortunately, wasn’t much of an option, at least not under these circumstances. The three wounded men could barely stand, much less run, and the soldiers were vigilant in watching their group. Kara counted at least ten of the white uniforms within twenty yards, most with loaded crossbows. To make things even more difficult, all the bandits had had their arms tied, save for one of the three wounded men whose condition was so bad that the guards had taken pity on him. He lay even now in the grass a few yards away from Kara, moaning and weeping softly from the pain of his injuries. She tried to ignore it the best she could, but to no avail.

Kara had no doubt what their fate was. They would be taken back to Llewyllan, held in prison for a short while, maybe given a trial, but undoubtedly executed in the end. It was the risk one took becoming a highwayman. The Howling Woods were generally safe territory for bandits and thieves of all kinds. No nation or kingdom had any control over the area, though both Llewyllan and Calbraith had long-standing (and conflicting) claims to it. Still, the risk of actual military units from either side entering the forest was almost unheard of.

The royal symbol of Llewyllan, the peacock, was plastered on the uniform of each soldier, and that meant that they belonged to the Royal Guard, based out of the capital city of Balneth. The livelihood of the numerous bandit groups in the forest lay in the assumption that neither Calbraith nor Llewyllan would risk sending an armed force into the Howling Woods to rescue someone when a simple ransom would suffice. For the Llewyllan Royal Guard to openly track down and assault a small bandit camp implied a matter of utmost importance, perhaps one going to the top levels of their government.

Kara looked over at her brother. “Torin?”

The bandit leader didn’t respond, but sat motionless in the grass, his eyes looking dazedly at a group of dandelions. He seemed to be in shock. Earlier he had been mumbling something to himself, though Kara hadn’t heard what it was. She was starting to worry about him. He had always looked at himself as the father of these men, the one who was responsible for their livelihood. Now most of them were dead.

A stiff breeze whisked through the grass, brushing against Kara’s trousers. She looked across the clearing, watching the soldiers’ tents ripple and pull in the wind. A figure suddenly caught her attention. It was the bearded scout. He pointed over in the bandits’ direction once or twice. It seemed like he was arguing with the soldiers.

Kara leaned forward, her arms aching from the ropes that bit into them. She watched curiously as the bearded man turned, walking across the wafting grass in their direction. One of the soldiers walked behind him, his crossbow held at the ready.

As the bearded man came close he slung a large leather bag off his shoulder.

“Come to gloat?” asked Kara icily.

Joseph gave a half-smile. “I see you’re just as cheerful as the last time I saw you.” He knelt down in the grass by the badly wounded man, and set the large bag in the grass to his side.

The soldier with the crossbow remained standing several yards away, his weapon pointed at the captured bandits.

Kara straightened herself in the grass.

The guard with the crossbow immediately aimed at her, his eyes alert and suspicious.

“I’d be careful, if I were you,” said Joseph without looking up. He pulled several small pouches and bandages out of the sack. “These soldiers are pretty jumpy. They almost didn’t let me come over here.”

Kara glanced over at Torin. Her brother was staring off towards the forest, his face distant. She looked back over at Joseph.

“So why are you here?”

Joseph tugged gently at the man’s clothes, cutting them away where they covered his wounds. “To help.”

Kara smirked. “Sure.”

The scout began cleaning out the man’s wounds, applying various herbs and salves. He looked up at Kara. “Are there any others?”

She started to respond, but felt the answer catch unexpectedly in her throat. She shook her head instead, looking back over towards the remaining bandits. “They killed everyone else,” she said.

Joseph finished bandaging the man’s wounds. He wiped the blood off his hands with a hand rag. “I’m sorry,” he said quietly.

“I’ll bet you are,” Kara responded.

Joseph said nothing. He threw his things back into the bag, and moved over to the next wounded man. “Give me your arm,” he said.

The bandit pulled back. “Stay away from me,” he snarled.

Joseph held up his hands. “All right.”

Kara looked over at him. “You must think a lot of yourself, huh?”

The scout grabbed his bag again. “What do you mean?”

She gave a sardonic smile. “Helping your former captors. That’s rich. You hand out food to widows and orphans, too?”

To her surprise, the man smiled. “Only on my days off.” He leaned back on his heels. “I’m just trying to help, that’s all.”

Kara snorted. “Help? Why?”

Joseph shrugged. “It’s the decent thing to do.”

“Decency doesn’t mean a lot out here,” she retorted.

The scout slung the bag back over his shoulder. “You have to start somewhere.”

Torin looked up suddenly, as if suddenly awaking from a dream. “Then start somewhere else,” he growled. “We don’t need your help here, and we don’t want it.”

Kara glanced over at Torin, her face showing her surprise.

Joseph gave the man a long stare, then nodded, rising slowly to his feet. “Have it your way.” He looked over at Kara.

“Kara, right?”

She nodded, a little taken aback. “Yes.”

“Joseph.” He pulled down the brim of his hat. “If your other men change their minds, just tell the guards. I’ll do my best to patch them up.”

He walked away, and the guard followed slowly behind him.

“Good riddance,” came Torin’s voice from behind her.

“He didn’t mean any harm,” Kara said, surprised by her own words. “Maybe we should have let him help.”

Torin narrowed his eyes. “He and all those soldier-friends of his have helped enough for one day.” He looked away once more, his face clenched with rage and frustration.

Kara started to open her mouth to argue, but thought better of it. She turned her head, looking back towards where Joseph was retreating in the distance.