Freamhaigh

by Donald D. Allan

  Satisfied, Katherine let go of her power and observed her work with normal eyes. Before her was a black shafted pole with a foot-long blade fused to the end. Without power like hers it was unbreakable. The edge would cut through anything, she was certain. Nothing sharper existed in the world.

  “This should cut the heart out of that tuili.”

  Fourteen

  Baron Windthrop’s Country Estate, South Turgany, January 902 A.C.

  FRANKY PULLED STEVE down beside her behind the fountain. They were inside the high wall surrounding Baron Andrew Windthrop’s country estate. They had avoided the patrols and sentries and slipped over the wall with ease. This reminds me of the old days when Steve and I raided the Protector. Good times, good times, thought Franky.

  The moon was new, and the sky was cloudy obscuring the stars. Inky black they call it. I like that. Perfect for this. Franky peered up over the fountain they hid behind and spotted the two guards standing at the double front doors of the estate. Steve and Franky were at the corner of the mansion grounds. Around them were the actual estates. Acres of land surrounded this one opulent home in the middle of nowhere. A small village lay nearby, thriving on the commerce in feeding the desires of the estate.

  After the battle at the Crossroads, Steve had argued with the Baron and told him to stay in Jergen, but he had insisted he return here. Franky knew he was pouting. Hiding here and griping about his loss. For years Franky and Steve had served this man and believed he fought for the greater good of the Realm. He had revealed himself in Jergen and then again at the battle at the Crossroads. He lusted only for power. He’s no better than the Lord Protector.

  And now he had attempted to assassinate Edward, the rightful heir to the crown. Whatever loyalty Steve and Franky still had toward the Baron had evaporated in an instant. They had become highwaymen to feed the coffers of the new rebellion. It had been squandered on the Baron. All those members of the crew who had died had died in vain. Franky gnashed her teeth.

  Edward’s would-be assassins had been hanged without ceremony. The two men hadn’t believed they would go through with it. Steve had pushed each one off the loft himself. Will had watched them hanged in silence and then walked away. He hadn’t said anything. Franky smiled, remembering. He’s all grown up. I'm so proud.

  “Follow,” whispered Franky, and she bolted for the side of the house. She ducked behind shrubs wrapped in burlap against the winter snow and ice. She paused only once to check on the roaming sentries and then sped toward the trellis that rose up the side of the house to a small bedroom balcony. Her toes touched the trellis in two places and with her one hand she reached up and vaulted herself up over the balcony railing. She landed on her toes and moved to the side just as Steve landed beside her.

  “Good times,” breathed Franky. “Come, love.”

  Franky pulled a small sliver of hammered steel out of her boot and slipped it between the locked double doors and moved it around a little before twisting it and pushing it down. A click was heard, and the right door swung inward an inch. Steve looked over the railing to the grounds and saw no movement. He turned back to the door as Franky slipped inside.

  As Franky entered, she saw the room was empty. People fill a room in a way you can sense. Their breathing, their small motions, whatever it is, you sense that, she thought and smiled. Especially at night. Franky moved to the door leading out to the corridor beyond. She heard Steve close the balcony door and then move over to join her. From their waists they each pulled out a small, black leather rod with a lead weight inside a pocket opposite the handle. The weapons would render those struck unconscious but not kill. They wanted the Baron alive. He would stand trial for treason in Jergen.

  Franky cracked the door and peered out into the house. The rooms were all placed at the outer wall of the building. The centre of the house was wide open from the main floor to the towering stained-glass dome ceiling. Each floor had a circuitous hallway going all the way around, with an inner railing that merged at the massive wide stairs that descended all the way down to the front entranceway and double doors. She remained motionless for a long moment. She was waiting for the inner sentries to move clear and she had yet to spot them. They had to move into the corridor, up one flight of stairs, and then all the way back to the rear of the building. Windthrop had a massive suite in the back upper floor. He rarely left it. Servants brought his wants to him like an emperor. Before tonight, Franky had just thought him eccentric, now she knew he thought himself entitled. How quickly my opinion changes. Now I hate the Baron and admire Will.

  She spied the floor sentry. He had been in a room opposite the hallway. He walked slowly out into the corridor and started his circuit. She could tell he was bored. His head barely moved, and he seemed content to simply walk his route. She closed her door all the way, waited, and listened until she heard him pass. She cracked the door and spied the back of the man as he moved past the landing of the grand staircase. He walked farther along and then disappeared back inside the room where he had come from.

  Predictable, snorted Franky, and she moved out into the hallway. She felt Steve move in behind her and close the door. Together they moved around the corridor to the top of the staircase. Franky glanced toward the main doors and was glad to see the area empty of guards. She crossed over to the wide double doors that led into the Baron's private chambers. She peered through the keyhole and Steve kept an eye to the corridor and other doors.

  Spying nothing beyond the doors she twisted a door handle down and smiled when the door unlatched. She squeezed through the opening and moved aside to allow Steve to join her. He closed the door, and they remained motionless, listening. After a moment they heard the loud snoring of the Baron far away to their right.

  They moved quickly to his bed chamber door and the sound of snoring grew louder. Franky opened the right door and squeezed through the opening. Steve slipped through and closed the door. A single candle burned on a side table providing a soft glow to the room. The bedroom was overly large. Rich gilded and ornate dressers, armoires, couches and a full-length mirror were positioned along the walls. The two far corners of the room boasted floor to ceiling bay windows with seating and small tables. The thick wool drapes covered the windows and shut out any light from the outside.

  Franky's eyes were only for the large four poster bed central to the opposite wall. The sound of snoring reverberated in the room and echoed off the high ceiling. The bass of the snoring ached in her teeth and she was glad, for once, that Steve barely made any noise at all when he slept. I could never lie next to a man who snored like the Baron. I'd cut his throat the first night.

  Franky glanced once to Steve. He nodded, and she moved at speed in a crouch to the side of the bed and rose to look down at the sleeping form of the Baron. He lay submerged under a thick, goose-down, duvet. The stray hairs of the top of his head were all that could be seen of the Baron. The side-table nearest her was covered in silver plates, stacked, and bearing the remnants of roast duck, vegetables and other food items. All half-eaten and discarded.

  He's a man consumed with his own despair. He always ate to make himself feel better. By the look of the food remains, he was searching for anything to quench his depression. An empty glass carafe of wine lay on its side by a large goblet. Franky shook her head and then tucked her sap back into her waist belt. She reached down to her right calf and pulled a long, double-edged dagger free of its sheath. The candle flame glinted off the blade and Franky bared her teeth in a smile. I have a cure for him.

  Steve moved to the other side of the bed and drew his own dagger and nodded to Franky. They had decided on the way here that she would be the one to do the deed. She had been the one to introduce the Baron to Steve and his crew. She felt herself to be the one the more responsible. Steve had grudgingly agreed. Not that he had much choice.

  Franky placed the dagger blade between her teeth and reached out and gently pulled the top of the duvet back to reveal the pudgy face of the Baron.
His mouth was wide open, and the sound of snoring doubled in volume. A movement under the covers opposite the Baron alerted her but Steve reacted first. He reached under the covers and pulled a young boy free of the duvet with a hand clasped over the boy's mouth. The boy's eyes darted around in fear and he struggled. Steve lifted him free of the bed and pulled him across the room. Franky could hear Steve whispering to the boy and she kept her eyes locked to the face of the Baron. He slept on, oblivious to what was happening. Franky took her dagger in her hand.

  In a moment, Steve returned. Franky raised an eyebrow in question and Steve grimaced and shook his head. He lifted a hand and signalled that all was well.

  On a whim, she crawled up onto the bed and kneeled beside the sleeping form. She placed the dagger against the throat of the Baron and pushed down gently. The eyes of the Baron burst open and locked on the face of Franky.

  "W-wha..?"

  "Shh! Andrew. Shh!"

  The Baron looked over at Steve and then back to Franky. The whites of his eyes grew large and a small whine escaped his lips.

  "You've been a bad boy, Andrew Windthrop," whispered Franky. "You sent two men to assassinate the heir to the throne."

  The Baron started to shake his head but the dagger on his throat stopped him.

  "Don't deny it," grinned Franky. "We stopped your men. They were hanged for treason a week ago. That's the punishment, did you know that? Execution? It's one of the few crimes that ends up having your life taken from you."

  "I didn't," whimpered the Baron.

  "Now, now, don't deny it. They confessed before we hanged them. It helps to have druids who can reveal truths. The men both stated they met with you privately. You discussed what you wanted and ordered them to the task. Do you care to confess?"

  "Lies!" cried the Baron, raising his voice. Franky pressed the blade a little harder, and the Baron shut his mouth.

  "Shh, Andrew. We wouldn't want you to alert your guards, would we?"

  The Baron froze for a moment and then slowly shook his head.

  "Good, good. You know, Steve and I gave you our best for years. We followed your orders. Believed you to be an honourable man, worthy of our loyalty. We watched in horror as you showed your true colours. Your actions in Jergen and later at the Crossroads were deplorable. You know that, right?"

  The Baron finally showed some courage and glared back at Franky in defiance.

  "Finding that bastard of the late King was a bit shocking, wasn't it? It changed things for you. Made you upset. Caused you to order your men to do bad things. You probably assumed you were right to do so. After all, you had already given so much of yourself to the cause, didn't you? You had invested in your future and right before you were to grab your destiny it was snatched right out from under you."

  "Yes," grated the Baron.

  "What you probably never believed could happen, was that you were in the wrong. You have committed high treason, Baron Windthrop. You attempted to kill the heir to the throne. The punishment for that act is execution. Steve and I debated what we should do. I voted that we should just cut your throat here and be done with it. Steve, and Will, I might add, argued that you should be brought to Jergen for a public trial. You'll be glad to hear that their arguments won out."

  The Baron seemed to relax at the words and he looked at Steve.

  "It's true," whispered Steve. "We are to bring you back to Jergen. You will be placed under arrest and held until a formal trial can be provided. You have a right to counsel. We will do this by the laws of the land. We will not start the new Realm with vigilante actions. You have my word."

  The Baron nodded. "All right, what now?"

  Steve stirred and looked surprised. "Now? We get you out of that bed and dressed for the road. You will order your men to stand down and we will escort you back to the farm. In time, you will be taken to Jergen for trial."

  "Okay."

  Franky snorted. "Okay? Not that simple, I'm afraid. We need your vow to not resist arrest. You will give this vow in the presence of your men. Only then will we proceed. First, I need your vow that once I remove this dagger, you will remain calm and get out of the bed and dress yourself. Do we understand each other?"

  The Baron nodded.

  Franky growled. "Your word."

  "I swear."

  Franky looked at Steve and he nodded. Franky removed the dagger from the throat of the Baron and backed away off the bed. The Baron reached up to his throat and wiped at it and then looked at his hand for blood. Seeing none, he grimaced and then started to push himself up to a sitting position on the bed. He glanced back and forth between Steve and Franky.

  "I'm not dressed. I'm naked under here."

  "We know," said Steve and then looked over at the boy sitting quiet in the corner of the room. The boy’s eyes were round with fear and he bit a fist in his mouth to keep himself quiet.

  The Baron spotted the boy and then grinned. "Ah, yes. Wallace. I'd forgotten about him."

  "I doubt he will ever forget you," growled Franky. "Out. Get dressed."

  The Baron hesitated a moment and then swung his feet out of the bed and sat on the side. Franky averted her eyes and moved back a few steps.

  "Hurry up, get dressed."

  The Baron smiled and stood up. He walked over to his armoire and swung the doors open wide. Steve opened a dresser drawer and pulled out undergarments and leggings. He tossed them over to land on the floor by the Baron.

  They watched in silence as he dressed himself. He did it slowly. They could see he was thinking. Thinking about how to get out of this, thought Franky. Good luck to him.

  The Baron selected a fancy tunic and pants and then pulled them on. After a time, he finally turned to them and shrugged. "I'm dressed."

  "About time, come over here," ordered Franky. "We need to bind you."

  "Bind me? Like some common criminal? I think not. I am the rightful heir to the throne. I removed an upstart. A peasant with delusions. I have done nothing wrong. I will see you both hanged for this." The Baron remained standing where he was and looked defiantly back at Franky.

  "You are a common criminal."

  "I think not."

  Franky looked at Steve. He shrugged. Franky growled again. She sheathed her dagger and pulled out a length of rope. She tossed it to Steve, who caught it one handed. "We bind him. Whether he likes it or not."

  Steve smiled and moved in behind the Baron. "Your hands, please. Behind your back."

  "No."

  Steve reached around one side to grab a hand, but the Baron pulled it away.

  "I will not be bound."

  Franky moved closer to help. She saw the eyes of the Baron gleam for a moment before the dagger appeared in his hand, pulled from some hidden pocket in his tunic. It was a short blade, but effective. She watched it drive in to her left side. It drove up under her ribcage with a thud she felt throughout her body. She twisted, and the knife was pulled free from his grasp. She staggered back and put her hand to the hilt of the dagger. She saw Steve staring in shock over the Baron's shoulder. I have to get this out, she thought and pulled the blade free.

  "No!" shouted Steve.

  It was too late, and she realised her mistake the moment the blade came free. I should have left it in. A fountain of blood shot from the wound and she felt her left lung collapse. Strength left her legs, and she felt betrayed by her own body as she crumpled to the carpet. She looked at the blade in her hand and tossed it aside and clasped her hand over the wound. She could feel her blood leaking between her fingers.

  Franky looked up at Steve, hoping he could help her. The Baron was turning to Steve in slow motion, yelling something her ears could not seem to understand. The Baron's face suddenly gaped open in shock. Franky watched him look down to Steve's dagger, held in both hands, which he had driven into the centre of the Baron's chest. Steve had the look of a madman. His teeth were bared in a wide rictus. Franky watched Steve pull his knife free and plunge it again and again into the Baron's wide
chest. The Baron raised his hands in defence, but the blade plunged through both his hands and body alike with the force of the blows. As the Baron fell to the floor, Steve continued to drive the blade into the body.

  Franky looked down at her hand. Blood continued to seep through her fingers. She knew what kind of wound it was. She was doomed. She would die. It's only a matter of time, she thought. She found herself suddenly looking at the ceiling and blinked in confusion. I don't feel any pain at all, isn't that strange? Steve's face appeared over hers and she saw the fear there. She saw the drops of blood spattered across his face and felt the urge to wipe it clean. She struggled to speak instead. She had to tell him she loved him one more time. She drew a breath to speak, but blackness swirled around her and dragged her down before she could say the words.

  Steve had long ago stopped hoping but drove the horse on relentlessly. His memories of the past two days were sparse. He had bound her wound in the mansion. He had shoved a handkerchief into her wound, plugging it. Yes, I did that. So much blood. So much. He remembered leaving the Baron's manse. He had managed to carry Franky out of the building without being caught. He had carried her over the wall and into the woods.

  He had thrown her over her horse and ridden hard non-stop pulling her horse behind his. He had to reach the farm. Will can heal her. So easily. I just have to get there. Why didn't we take a druid? But he remembered why. It was Franky that had argued against taking one.

  "We started this. We will end it. The Baron is our problem. I won't risk the draoi," she had said.

  Will didn't look happy. "There's too much risk. Take one of us with you. You never know. I'd feel better knowing you have one of the draoi with you."

  Franky had laughed then. "With all due respect, Freamhaigh. I've been doing this longer than you've been alive. Steve and I can handle ourselves. I don't want to look after a new druid if I can help it. It will be easier with just the two of us. We're a team."