by Jane Glatt
Kane dismounted and Brenna followed suit. Her legs buckled as she slid off Blaze and she grabbed onto the saddle. The horse turned one eye her way and snorted, as if to reprimand her. She took a few hesitant steps and picked a path through the corn, leaning heavily on Blaze’s shoulder as she walked. After a few paces her legs started to feel like hers again. Kane caught up to her when she was halfway to the trees.
“I tried to leave a false trail or two,” he said. “And I did my best to cover where we entered the field.”
Brenna nodded and made room for him to slip past with Runner. In front, Kane trampled a path through the corn and they traveled faster.
When they reached the trees, Brenna sighed with relief. There was about an hour left before dusk. Kane handed Runner’s lead to her and he climbed part way up a sturdy pine tree.
“I don’t see anyone behind us,” he said. He dropped to the ground “Time to mount up.”
Kane boosted her back into the saddle and she sucked in a breath. He sent her a worried look.
“Let’s just go,” she said. Brothers, but she didn’t think she’d ever get used to this.
Kane led them through the gloom underneath the trees - a mix of maple and pine along with a sprinkling of birch. The underbrush of soft grasses and ferns was lush and green and the horses’ hooves sank into it soundlessly. After a few minutes, Brenna heard a rumbling in the distance.
“It’s the Silverdale,” Kane said. “I was pretty sure this wooded area would meet up with the river. We’ll cross into Fallad soon.”
They were almost at the river when Brenna heard a noise behind them. Before she had a chance to turn around, Kane slapped the rump of her horse and it leaped forward.
“Run!” Kane shouted.
She grabbed her saddle and held on tight. They crashed past tree limbs and jumped over roots and tangled bushes. She leaned over Blaze’s neck and prayed to Jik for protection, her voice lost in the horse’s streaming mane. She turned when she heard the sounds of a rider close behind. It was Kane, his sword in one hand. Behind him, and to the left, were two riders. She felt Blaze falter slightly. There, a third rider was coming up on her right.
“Keep going!” Kane yelled and he wheeled his horse around.
A branch snagged at her hair and she hunched over Blaze’s neck. She heard a thump and a sickening scream of pain and she prayed that it hadn’t been Kane.
The third rider was still gaining on her. Brenna grabbed her knife - power surged through her body as her knife blazed to life. Instinctively, she called to the old steel. Her knife crackled with energy and she felt Kane’s sword flare in answer. She could feel him, through the old steel - he was alive, for now.
Brenna’s pursuer was joined by another, but they both shied away when she waved her blazing knife at them. She rode blindly through the woods, the two riders right behind. She could no longer hear Kane but a quick check through her knife told her he was still alive. Other old steel was even closer, but it was wrong, discordant.
Suddenly the three of them broke through the trees and onto the riverbank. Blaze slipped on the softer soil, but Brenna clung to the horse and stayed on. For another quarter hour, Blaze kept ahead of their pursuers but even Brenna, unskilled with horses as she was, felt the poor beast falter underneath her.
She pulled up on the reins and Blaze wheezed to a stop, flecks of white speckling her neck. Brenna slid to the ground. She wasn’t sure she could stand, but she had no choice. Blaze was spent and she wasn’t going to be taken alive. She tried to contact Kane through the old steel. Get here soon, she prayed.
She gripped Blaze’s saddle for support and held her knife out in front of her. The two riders slowly edged their horses towards her. She let her knife flare even brighter and one of the men stopped. The other one kept coming. Then she recognized him.
“If it isn’t Thorold’s lackey,” Brenna said. “Barton is it?” Brenna kept Blaze between her and the second rider.
His sword snicked from its scabbard, glinting in the light from her knife. “Come with me little girl, and you won’t be hurt,” Barton said. He nudged his horse closer.
“You don’t understand your master if you think that,” Brenna said. She checked for Kane through her knife. He was still too far away. “I know what Thorold has planned for me. He’ll try to use me. If he can’t, he’ll kill me. That doesn’t sound like I won’t be hurt.”
Now that they were still, she could better sense Barton’s sword. It was old steel, but different in some way - discordant and somehow wrong. And it hadn’t lit up like her knife and Kane’s sword. She reached towards it, and gasped. The sense of wrongness intensified and Brenna clutched at Blaze’s saddle to stay upright. She blocked herself from his sword.
“You won’t take me alive, you know,” she said. “I’ve been an indentured servant to Duke Thorold before. I won’t do it again.”
“I think we can take one little girl with a knife,” Barton drawled. His horse took a step towards her and Barton waved the second man in as well.
Brenna leaned against Blaze and reached into her pack. “I’m a witch and a healer. Do you think I didn’t prepare something, just in case?” She held up a small jar. “It’s a very potent poison, in powder form. Just a small amount can kill instantly. Once the wind catches it, who knows how far it will travel?” She smiled as she saw both men rein in their mounts. “As I said, you won’t take me alive.” Let them decide if she was bluffing. She checked for Kane - he was almost here.
A branch snapped and Kane rode into view. His sword still shone, although there were dark stains along the length of it.
“Well, Barton,” Kane said. “We meet again. And it looks like the roles are reversed - last time I was the captain.” Kane circled his horse around the other two riders, his sword pointed at Barton.
“I see your witch has given you a fancy toy.” Barton kept his eyes on Kane’s sword.
“It’s no toy,” Kane said. “This sword has been handed down in my family for generations. It’s killed many men, including your two friends back there.” Kane gestured behind him. “If you leave now, I’ll let you gather their belongings for their families.”
Barton scowled. His companion shifted his reins and closed in on Kane. Steel clashed against steel and then all Brenna could see was Barton advancing on her. She took two shaky steps back and then Barton reached down, grabbed her arm, and wrenched her towards him. The bottle flew from her hand and smashed on a rock. She thrust up weakly with her knife, cutting into the arm that held her. Barton swore but did not loosen his grip.
“I’ll make you pay for that, witch.” With one hand he dragged her up against the side of his horse. He dropped his reins and backhanded her across the face.
Brenna struggled against the horse’s bulk. Her knife still in her hand, she stabbed wildly and connected with the flank of Barton’s horse. With a high-pitched scream, the horse reared. Barton was forced to jump clear and Brenna was thrown to the ground. She crawled away, only to have Barton grab her again. This time he pinned her knife hand into the dirt with his boot.
She kicked out, but missed. “Let go of me!” Brenna yelled.
“I suggest you do as the lady says, friend.”
Brenna looked up into the face of a stranger, the tip of his sword pointed directly at Barton’s chest. The tip of his glowing sword. Barton stepped back and she rolled away, her knife clutched to her side. Another man reached out a hand and helped her to her feet. More men disarmed Kane’s attacker.
“Kane.” She hobbled over to him. “Are you all right?”
“I’m fine. What about you?” Kane sheathed his sword and looked her over. He frowned when he peered at her face.
“Nothing is broken.” She gingerly touched her swelling cheek. “I’m sure I’ll look a sight, though.”
He looped his left arm over her shoulders. “But you’re safe,” he said. He turned them both towards the men who now filled the small clearing.
“Well met, Br
other,” Kane said. He clasped hands with the man who had saved Brenna. “No names yet,” he said softly and the other man nodded.
He was slightly taller than Kane and perhaps a dozen years older. He had dark hair and a beard, and eyes so brown they appeared black. His sword still glowed softly and Brenna reached out to it and all the other old steel. She didn’t understand how she’d missed them before. Perhaps she’d been too distracted by her own situation, or maybe she’d been concentrating on Kane so much that nothing else had registered. Now she saw six, no seven pieces of old steel, since their leader carried both sword and knife. All of the weapons matched their bearers - there was none of the wrongness she’d sensed with Barton’s sword. With a mental shrug, Brenna let all the weapons go dark.
“That’s quite the trick, lass,” the Brother said, looking at his weapon with interest. “Although, seeing as it’s getting dark, it might be nice if we had some light to see who we’re dealing with.”
“Oh, sorry,” Brenna said. She quickly let his and one of his companion’s swords flare to life again. “Is that enough?”
“A fine trick, indeed,” he said and grinned at her. She smiled in response and leaned tiredly into Kane.
“I can see that you’re about done,” the man said. “So why don’t you and the captain mount up and be on your way. The border’s just up a ways. I’ll send two of my men along to make sure you make it safely. There’s a fine inn not far from the border, we may as well meet up there later. I’ll make sure our friends make it home safely.”
Brenna must have dozed off in the saddle. She had no recollection of the journey to the inn, but here they were. She grabbed onto Kane as he helped her down from Blaze.
“We’ll take care of the horses, Captain,” one of the Brothers said.
“Thank you, Jesson,” Kane said. “We appreciate that.”
“Yes, thank you,” Brenna said. She leaned heavily into Kane and concentrated on moving her stiff and sore legs. She didn’t think she could make it to the stable, let alone care for Blaze.
Jesson nodded and he and the second Brother led all four horses away.
“Tell me again when riding gets easier?” Brenna asked Kane. She let go of him and limped towards the door of the inn.
“Today’s riding was rough.” Kane picked up their packs and slung them over one shoulder. “We should have easier traveling now that we’re in Fallad.”
Kane held the door for her and Brenna entered the dimly lit inn. The noisy rumble of the common room greeted her and she paused to let her eyes adjust to the dim light of the candles that lit the room.
“I’ll order you another bath,” Kane said. “I’m sure you could use a good long soak.”
“Thanks.” Brenna hesitated. “Do you want one first?”
“No, I’ll wait for the rest of the Brothers. I haven’t met all of them before, although I do know Lord Westley Stobert.”
“He’s the one in charge?” Brenna asked. “They feel like true Brotherhood. At least their old steel feels right. And you trust them?”
“The ones I know, yes,” Kane said. “They’re from old families. Lord Stobert especially,” Kane said. “He’s the Brother closest to the Duke of Fallad. Now let’s get you sorted out.” Kane headed towards a woman in a large apron.
Brenna waited while Kane arranged a room and bath. If he thought Lord Stobert could be trusted, she’d have to take his word for it, at least for now. She was too tired to do anything else. And they had rescued them.
Kane finished with the inn keep. Exhausted, Brenna followed him up the stairs to a room. Once inside, she dropped onto the bed and closed her eyes. She heard Kane move quietly around the room. The sound of splashing water lulled her to sleep.
Brenna bolted awake; she felt old steel close by. It called her. Kane sat on the chair across from the bed, his head bent as he cleaned his sword. The cloth he held was dark with dried blood and the sword hummed. He wiped the cloth along the steel and the hum vibrated along her spine. She shuddered. Two men dead tonight - it could have been her and Kane.
Kane glanced up at her. “Are you all right?” he asked. She simply nodded and lay back down. She heard Kane slide his sword back into the scabbard and the old steel quieted.
There was a soft knock on the door. Kane opened it and a serving woman hauled in a wooden tub through the door. She was followed by two lads with buckets of steaming water. Once the tub was filled and the inn staff gone, Kane left to find their rescuers.
Brenna eased herself off the bed and rummaged in her pack. She pulled out a few bundles and sniffed at one - lavender. She poured some dried petals into her palm and rubbed gently before she tossed them into the bath water. She slipped into the tub and sighed as the warmth soaked into her bruised and battered muscles.
She rubbed her wrist where Barton had grabbed her. If she hadn’t had the weapons training from Feiren and Kane she probably would be dead. Goose bumps raised on her arm despite the warmth of the bath. It hadn’t much mattered to Barton whether she was alive or dead when he delivered her to Duke Thorold. She’d heard it in his voice, seen it in his eyes, and felt it through his sword.
Another new thing - being able to sense a person’s intent through old steel. She’d never wanted any of it. Still didn’t, but now she needed every advantage she had just to stay alive.
The water was cool by the time the hollow rumble of her stomach finally forced her from the bath. Brenna smoothed a peppery salve onto her aching muscles and then dug into her pack for some clean clothes. What she’d worn today was filthy and torn - she’d be wearing her black thieving gear before long. She eyed herself in the mirror and grimaced. The skin around her right eye was swollen and red, and one side of her lip was puffed up. She gently prodded the inflamed skin. At least there was no permanent damage.
She pulled the old steel mortar and pestle out of her pack, along with an assortment of herbs and roots. The old steel felt almost warm in her hands. She rubbed her thumb along the base. Feiren had given her the mortar and pestle, along with the coronet. He’d said they belonged with her, the heir. She hadn’t argued. They had such a strong draw on her she couldn’t have left them behind and she was grateful that she hadn’t been forced to steal them from a man who’d only shown her kindness.
She put the ingredients into the mortar and crushed them into a green, pungent paste. She scooped some up and gently spread it around her eye, careful not to tug too hard at the tender skin. She let the paste sit until the top layer dried and cracked before she wiped the excess off. It would be better leave it on, but she didn’t think she get served in the common room with the thick green paste caked on her face.
She pulled her hair back with a cord and checked herself in the mirror. No trace of green paste but she probably didn’t smell very good. She shrugged. She couldn’t do anything about that now. She opened the door and almost collided with one of the Brothers.
“They’re down the hall a ways,” he said. “It’s the third door on the left.”
“Thank you,” Brenna replied. She closed the door to the room and headed down the hall. No meal in the common room after all. She wasn’t sure she liked having a guard standing outside of her door. Was he there to keep others out or to keep her in?
She was let into the room by one of the Brothers.
“Brenna,” Kane said. “You made it. This is our host, Lord Westley Stobert.”
Kane sat at a table across from Lord Stobert. A pitcher of ale and some glasses sat on the table. “Lord Stobert, this is Brenna Lightfingers. The Caller.”
“Well met, Lord Stobert,” Brenna said. “Thank you for your help.”
“My pleasure,” he said. “My men will have a tale to tell about the Caller, won’t they?” Lord Stobert rose and shook her hand. “Please, sit.”
Gratefully, Brenna sank into a chair at the table. Kane poured her a glass of ale and she took a sip.
Stobert waved to the guard at the door, who nodded once and left the room.
> “Quint will fetch our supper,” Stobert said. “Captain Rowse assured me you’d appreciate the venison.”
“Thank you,” Brenna said. “Kane is right about that.” She leaned back and looked around the room.
A second guard stood by the window. Were they expecting anyone to come in that way? Brenna pushed her weariness aside. Kane seemed relaxed, but she wasn’t.
There was one Brother in here, one out in the hall and Quint on his way to the kitchen. Brenna touched her knife briefly and searched for more old steel. She recognized the blades of the two men who had escorted them to the inn. Jesson, Kane had called one. They were outside, most likely in the stable. One more blade that felt familiar was already a fair distance away and moving steadily further.
“Where’s he going?” she asked Lord Stobert. “You have a man on the road headed away from here.” She rested her hand on her knife hilt. She wasn’t sure how far she’d be able to track the old steel, but for now she could still sense him.
“Who? Oh.” Lord Stobert said. “Kersey. He’s gone ahead to Silverdale.” He smiled. “We need to make arrangements to hide you two.”
“Why didn’t you mention that earlier?” Kane asked. “You’ve just had to rescue us. The fewer people who know where we are the safer we’ll be.”
“But you are safe,” Stobert said. “You’re in Fallad now. I didn’t think I needed to consult you.”
Brenna looked from him back to Kane, and frowned. Bad enough that Kane made decisions for her, now she had some stranger doing so as well. She didn’t like it, Brotherhood or not. Not after almost getting killed tonight.
“Lord Stobert,” Brenna said. “Any decision that concerns me will not be made without me. Do you understand?” Her hand still rested on her knife hilt and she reached through the old steel to him. Was that a flicker of … dislike? resentment?
“Yes, of course,” Lord Stobert said. “I was only trying to keep you safe. Please forgive me.”
“Certainly,” Brenna said. She’d felt … something, in the old steel but it was gone now. She was exhausted. Had she really felt his emotions? It was frustrating to have abilities and not understand them. She wished someone could teach her, the way Feiren and Kane had taught her how to use a knife as a weapon.