Wren (The Romany Epistles) (18 page)

“I will check if there are any rebels in here!”

Someone tried the latch and then pounded on the outer door.
Wren and I both jumped back. My heart hammered at my ribs.

“It’s locked. Find another entrance.”

Silence.

“Other doors?” Wren asked quietly as she moved toward her
discarded gear.

“One: kitchen,” I answered. “Unlocked.” I scooped my own
clothing off the floor, suddenly shivering despite the sweat of before. No time
to add layers. They would be upon us in moments. My body hummed with the
familiar rush of adrenaline.

“We won’t beat them. Stand and fight?” She retrieved the
clubs from the floor and turned to me.

“We hide. Follow me.” I trotted over to the stairs to the
turret and started up.

“Do you think this wise?” She kept on my heels as we took
the first turn.

“We take the tower, bar the door, and unless they are
persistent, breaking a door down will not be worth the effort if they don’t
know we are beyond.”

“It is a risk.” Her tone clearly indicated her uneasiness. I
understood. This fought against my instinct too. However, I needed to live. Too
many people counted on me. Although every fiber of me wanted to charge down and
confront the invaders, the logic held.

He bolted the door behind us. We stood in a small room with
barely room for the two of us. The roof partially opened to the sky above where
the rickety wooden stairs climbed to the rooftop.

I studied the thick wood slabs held together by bands of
iron and tried to swallow the panic at the back of my throat. No way out.
Please,
Deus, don’t let this end in a final stand.
Request made, I shoved at the
fear, attempting to stuff the anxiety away and let the Lord handle what I could
not.

“Keilvay must’ve followed me.”

“What? How?”

“I don’t know. I laid a false trail, waited before returning,
and the snow covered my tracks. How–”

He stopped me mid word with a cool finger pressed against my
lips. Footfalls came up the stairs. My breath caught, a reaction unrelated to
the approaching danger.
This is not the time.

The latch rattled and then the thumping receded.

He leaned down and breathed into my ear. “You should move to
the roof. See if you can spot anything.”

My mouth passed inches from his temple. “And you?” I
withdrew until I could study his face. His eyes were blue. Unlike Kat’s clear
hue, his were dark, bottomless, and flecked with green.

“I will stay at the door if they should make it through.”
His expression changed. Worry and fear flashed past before resolve settled
around his mouth. “Be careful. They might have brought archers.”

I turned away. He caught my hand. “No heroics.”

“You either. Warn me if they start on the door.”

He nodded. I took the stairs at a stealth run.

Reaching the top, I paused to catch some deep breaths.
Where
did that come from, Father? I didn’t expect it.
The sudden heat of his gaze
during the sparring disturbed enough, but the response in my gut was
unexpected. I never envisioned myself in this situation.
I am too….
I
couldn’t even describe it to Deus. I was too masculine, too aloof—what had
Daelia said all those years ago—too detached. “A man would have to reconnect
your heart before he was able to woo you.” Of course, she said it in a moment
of anger when I relentlessly pestered her about some detail she didn’t want to
share.

“Seems to be the last of them.”

I started. The voice wafted from below and I recognized it.
Creeping to the edge, I poked my head over.

“We searched the buildings and found no more stragglers. I
told you there was too much activity this end of the valley for just farmers.”
The voice tugged at my memory, but I couldn’t grasp his name.

“Yes, you did. I shall mention you when we bring this bunch
of ruffians back to the enforcer.” The sound of Kielvey’s voice soured my
stomach. “Too bad we didn’t find the Romany woman among them. Hawthorne was
hoping to get his claws into her before King Orac showed up.”

“Perhaps the Westerner will soften his mood. I’ll bet he
will reward me for the capture.”

“I wouldn’t hold your breath, Aexlem. Enforcer Hawthorne is
still put out about the other outlaw’s escape. Contrary to your report, the man
isn’t here. You have much to account for already.”

Aexlem? I rolled the name around on my tongue. It didn’t
taste familiar.

“Shall we move out?”

Keilvey looked up and I pulled my head back. For what seemed
like hours, I held my breath and waiting for him to raise the alarm and send
someone up to secure the battlements.

“Yes, might as well. Seems a shame to leave this fortress
empty though. The rebels did a pretty good job repairing things.”

“You should mention it to the enforcer,” Aexlem suggested.

“Be sure I shall.”

The men moved away. Keilvey called for the company to move
out.

I found Tourth crouched at the base of the stairs, sword
across his knees, back to the curved outer wall, and head bent so the nape of
his neck showed. The slump of his shoulders pulled at my heart. The poor man
had been through a horrendous eight hours.

“They caught Svhen, but Arthus eluded them. They didn’t
mention the rest.”

He lifted his head and rested it back against the wall as he
met my gaze. Emotional exhaustion haunted his eyes. “Dardon and Iscarus are out
hunting. I don’t know how many they took with them.”

“That means….”

He nodded wearily. “Hiller is among the captured.”

“I can go up and count the hostages as they leave.”

“Sounds wise. If you were to wager a guess, will the
enforcer execute Svhen immediately or wait for King Orac to arrive for the
spectacle?”

I considered a moment. “He will wait.”

“I hope so. I don’t think I could handle another death on my
conscience.”

A retort jumped to the tip of my tongue, but I bit it off.
Now was not the time. I quietly climbed to the roof and settled in to watch, my
thoughts full of Tourth and his trials.

~~~~~

“He did what?” Iscarus bellowed. Feet apart, hands on hips,
eyes blazing, he filled the great hall with his anger. The ten men from his
hunting party had been murmuring among themselves, but Iscarus’ outburst
brought all the attention to himself. I couldn’t help seeing some of each of
his older brothers in him at that moment.

“Keilvey took Hiller, Svhen, and the thirty men captive.
Working in small groups about the place, they were easy pickings. They raised
the general alarm too late. The whole band should be almost through the
enforcer’s gates any time now.” Wren pointed to the sliver of waning daylight
beyond the windows.

“He must have brought an army.” Iscarus grimaced. “Hiller
never goes anywhere willingly.”

I responded. “Keilvey brought a force a hundred strong to
root us out. All Tarin mercenaries by Wren’s observation.”

“He followed you?” He rounded on her. And she didn’t even
flinch.

Dardon stepped forward to defend her, but she ignored the
help. Calmly meeting Iscarus’ eyes, she answered the accusation.

“He didn’t. The increased activity on this end of the valley
drew their attention. He sent a spy to scout it out. A man named Aexlem.”

Iscarus’ face drained of all color while Arthus broke into a
violent fit of coughing. “Not that traitor. That….” A string of insults not fit
for anyone’s ears fell out of his mouth.

“Cease, Iscarus.” I cut him off. “You have obviously been
spending too much time with Warwick. That is not the way to speak in front of
anyone. Calm down and tell us why that name is significant.”

“He sold the knowledge of King Sigmon’s battle plans to
Orac’s commander. He is the reason we lost the war.”

“One of the reasons,” I pointed out. “So, what is he doing
here?”

“Selling secrets?” Iscarus suggested.

“Hawthorne would be an easy target.” Wren pressed a flask of
water into Arthus’ hand as he struggled to catch his breath. “He has always
been willing to try a quick plan for riches and glory. If Aexlem offers the
right bits of information, he would be an eager buyer.”

“Regardless, Enforcer Hawthorne has just declared war on my
brother. Capture and restraint of a noble’s brother as well as a company of his
enlisted men bearing his crest is an act of war between neighboring lands.
Philon isn’t going to take this timidly.”

“Hawthorne will claim they were inciting rebellion,” Wren
pointed out.

“Regardless, he has no grounds. We are on Tourth’s land.
Even if Tourth doesn’t officially hold the title, he still owns the land. We
are here with his permission for peaceful purposes repairing his property. The
law will uphold my brother’s right to use force should the enforcer not release
Hiller and the men immediately.”

I jumped in. “Wren guesses that the enforcer will wait until
King Orac arrives to execute Svhen. If we come with you to speak with Philon, do
you think we can get back with an army before they arrive?”

Arthus opened his mouth and began hacking again. Dardon
whacked him on the back sharply. It didn’t seem to help.

“You will accept the assistance?” Iscarus stared at me in
surprise.

“Yes. Svhen’s life is at risk. I am bound to help him.”

“Won’t…work!” Arthus’ chest heaved as he wheezed for a
moment. “Orac is a day’s march away. The soldiers mentioned it while they
were…” He broke into coughing again.

“While they searched for you?” Wren rubbed his back.

Arthus nodded and nursed his flask.

“I suggest an alternate plan,” Dardon said as Iscarus began
pacing. “Iscarus leaves for Eryant Valley seeking reinforcements. Arthus goes
with him. Tourth attempts to find Orac before he reaches the enforcer’s fortress.”
Turning to face me, he said, “You mentioned that he is reasonable. Speak to him
and convince him to accept your bid for the title. Deus willing, he will listen
and remove the enforcer’s power.”

“I said I only thought he would be reasonable.”

Iscarus shrugged. “Bring up the law and the enforcer’s
infractions against it. Even if he doesn’t honor your request for your family
title, he will still remove the enforcer.”

A sullen lump hardened in my gut. “I don’t like it.”

“What choice do you have? Can you think of another plan?”
Iscarus paused to glare at me.

“I don’t even know what direction Orac is coming from.” The
words sounded whiny in my ears, but it was true.

“Take Wren. She can help you.”

Wren opened her mouth. I assumed it was to protest, but she never
got a chance.

“I know where King Orac is. I will take you to him.”

Half the men reached for their swords, Iscarus included. A
strange man stood in the open doorway wearing the livery of the enforcer’s
patrolling force. His dark eyes sought out Arthus and then Wren among the men
before turning to me.

“Lord Iselyn, I presume.” He stepped forward, knelt on the
crushed rushes, and offered the back of his neck and his dominant wrist, palm
up, in the time honored gesture of loyalty.

“I don’t think…” Iscarus stepped forward to comment, but
Wren stopped him by cutting in front of him.

“Pardon, Lord Iscarus.” She met my eyes as she laid a hand
on the man’s shoulder. “Lord Iselyn, I present Tyron. He is a friend of Svhen.
He is the one who warned us of the press gangs.”

“I beg to be allowed to help you now.” Tyron lifted his head
to meet my gaze. “The enforcer plans treason and I wish to have no part.”

He remained kneeling. A strange tightening in my chest came
with the words I needed to speak. They were the last words my father spoke to
me. “Rise, Tyron, I accept your request and your service.”

Tyron rose. “King Orac is approaching from the south, my
lord. This valley is the second to final stop on his four-month long progress
inspecting his lands. The enforcer intends to hang Svhen for crimes against the
crown the day after the king arrives. Upon the completion of the event, he is
going to request the valley as his reward. If King Orac does not honor the
request, he intends to take the land by force.”

“The man is insane!” Dardon muttered.

“King Orac is walking into a trap.” My chest constricted. I
was torn between honor and personal emotion. I needed to support Orac as my
king no matter how I disliked the man for his possible connections to my
parents’ death. If he ordered their removal, he stood as guilty as Hawthorne.
Yet, the noble course would be to protect him. Deus placed him as king over us.
I needed to honor him as such, despite my desire to see him pay personally for
all the death and pain his decision to rise against King Sigmon brought.

“We don’t have much time,” Iscarus pointed out. “You have to
make a decision, Tourth. I am for Dardon’s plan. It seems the best possibility.
We cannot attack with our small force.” His sweeping arm included his ten
remaining men, Wren, Dardon, and Arthus, who began coughing again. Tyron
glanced over at Arthus while Iscarus continued.

“Even if King Orac will not settle in your favor, at least
your attempt will stall him long enough so that Philon can arrive to register
his own complaint against the enforcer. Orac will have to answer Philon, and
there is a chance we can save Svhen.”

My brain wouldn’t think. Exhaustion from too little sleep
and extra exercise pulled at my joints. With the emotional drain from worrying
about Wren, reliving memories, and facing the fact I was stepping into my
father’s shoes without the benefit of his guidance, I couldn’t process another
thing. “Wren?”

She looked up at me. Calm golden eyes flecked with brown
studied my face.

“Can you think of another plan?”