by Gaelen Foley
They would be keeping an eye out for his other horse, too. Actually, he had a sneaking suspicion that somebody had already tried to claim Polly as the no-longer-needed property of the deceased. Now that they knew Thaydor was looking for the horse, he was confident that whoever had taken the bay mare would bring her back.
He had also asked if anyone had heard anything about how the Urms had got through the gates. The villagers had no information on that point, but they did say that Reynulf had been there with half a dozen soldiers asking if anyone had seen him. They had told the Bloodletter about his arrival three nights ago and his mighty battle against the invaders, but given that no one had seen Thaydor since, they had nothing more to tell.
They had agreed not to mention his visit to Buckby if Reynulf came back. The men had nodded with knowing looks in their eyes. Since Thaydor had shown up at the village with Wrynne, they had accepted him, but he had seen for himself that she was right. It was not their way to open up to outsiders.
That should work in his favor, anyway.
As they passed through a small, picturesque stretch of woods, Wrynne finally seemed to be perking up.
“What a day,” she said, letting out a sigh. “I’ll definitely be weeding my garden tonight.”
He looked at her curiously. “Haven’t you already done enough work?”
“That’s not work. Tending my garden is how I stay sane.”
“Ah, I see.”
She looked up at him. “You can help if you want. It really works.”
“I have my own preferred method, but thank you,” he said. “I’ll tell you if you promise not to laugh.”
“I would never laugh at you.”
“Very well.” Smiling, he reached into his gambeson and handed her his book of poetry. “Here. It’s easier than weeding, anyway.”
She looked at it, then at him, as if she thought it was adorable. He shrugged and felt a little foolish.
She smiled, studying him. “You know, you were wonderful back there.”
“So were you,” he countered, pausing to guide Avalanche across a small brook. Then he glanced at her again. “You would have gone and faced all that by yourself days ago if you hadn’t been looking after me. Am I right?”
She nodded. “But I’m glad you were there. It made the whole thing a lot easier. And everybody loved you.”
I only care what you think about me. The stray thought surprised even him.
When he glanced at her again, he found her watching him and got distracted when he noticed that her eyes matched the soft gray of the forest shadows around them.
“You’re very beautiful, Wrynne,” he blurted out. “That is— I mean— You are a credit to your order.”
He frowned, and she smiled at his awkward botch of a compliment and gave him another look that said, Adorable.
He glanced away self-consciously and mumbled, “I read the poems, I don’t write them.”
She laughed softly and tucked the book back into his vest for him, her hand grazing his chest.
“What happened at that last house?” he asked at length. “I could tell it really hurt you. If it helps, you can talk to me about it.”
“Oh, Thaydor.” She shook her head sorrowfully. “The Urms killed that woman’s baby. A beautiful, healthy girl, only three months old. I delivered her myself. And they bashed her little life out against a wall like she was nothing.”
A fiery gust of rage poured through him to hear of this new low of Urmugoth barbarity, but he tamped it down. He had already killed them. What more could he do? Besides, it would only upset her if he let his fury loose. “I see.”
“That poor woman. You don’t recover from something like that,” she remarked. “Not really. What do you say to a grieving mother?”
He glanced at her in misery. “You tell me. I must write a letter to Eadric’s mother tonight.”
With a soft sound of sympathy, she curled her fingers in the back of his hair where her hand was draped around his neck. He shook his head, met her gaze, and then nuzzled her face tenderly with his own, for there were no words.
He held her a little tighter as they rode on, but hatred coursed through his veins, not just for the Urmugoth rot, who were too stupid half the time to know what they were doing, but for the Silver Sage, who might just be the true source of all this.
Let him come here and look into the faces we saw today, he thought bitterly. Then he can teach his followers that evil is just an illusion.
Fortunately, the North Gate and its towers were in sight when they emerged from the woods. He urged Avalanche into a smooth canter and crossed the grassy field approaching the walls. He hailed the current sentries from below, calling up to them. He told them who they were and received permission to come up and talk to the guards on duty.
Given his fame, the soldiers were all too happy to meet him and very willing to tell him what they knew. Indeed, they seemed relieved to have a seasoned, authoritative warrior to talk to about the distressing events in the province of late.
First, however, Thaydor decided that his fair companion had heard enough talk of murder and mayhem for one day and asked her to wait a short distance away. She seemed glad to escape the guards’ bloody descriptions of how they had found their companions on the night the Urmugoths had first got in.
Her hair and cloak blowing around her, Wrynne wandered off down the windy rampart to wait for him. As she leaned on the crenellated battlements, gazing out at the view, Thaydor did his best to ignore the curve of her backside, which was thrust out a bit in her idle pose.
He strove to focus on his questions for the men. They were locals and not terribly well trained in fighting. Their skill level was usually sufficient, for the miles of high walls that had been built around the borders of Veraidel decades ago kept the barbarians out most of the time.
Thaydor gathered the sentries around and questioned them together. As he had suspected, not a man on duty had been left alive on the night of the breach to tell how it all had happened.
The men explained how the fourth watch had arrived for duty at three a.m. as usual, only to find the horrifying sight of the gates wide open and their companions of the third watch dead, their throats cut. Two had even been tossed out over the wall.
A few seemed to have had time to put up a fight, but they had clearly lost.
“Were there any teeth marks on the bodies?” he asked.
“Only on the two poor bastards who were thrown over the wall,” the sergeant said. “They gnawed ’em good.”
“But not the men up here?”
“Right.”
“Hmm,” said Thaydor. “And you say they had their throats cut?”
“Yes, sir.”
Not the Urms’ preferred method of dispatching their victims. If the typical Urm could get close enough to cut a man’s throat, they’d just as soon twist his neck. The deft use of a knife required more dexterity than the ogre descendants possessed.
The guards answered everything Thaydor could think to ask, and even offered their best guess on how it had played out. They theorized that the twenty Urms must have somehow got their big, gray hands on some grappling hooks and ropes strong enough to support their heavy weight. A few must have climbed the walls in an unguarded spot and then come up here to open the gates for their friends.
“I think it would be wise to see if you lads can find the spot where this might have happened,” he suggested. “I’d start by going along the walls and checking the parapets for any fresh gashes or scratches that could have been made by grappling hooks. If this is how they got in, it would be good to confirm it. Did you find any footprints of Urm size inside the gatehouse?”
“No, only out on the road,” the sergeant said.
“Sir, you don’t think more will try it, do you?” one asked.
Thaydor glanced around at them, realizing in surprise that the men looked nearly as shaken as the children had at the prospect of it happening again.
He smiled and g
ave them the same reassuring promise—that he’d write immediately to the warrior monks of the nearest monastery of Ilios to come out and reinforce them.
They thanked him profusely, then admitted that a quarter of their garrison had stopped reporting for duty. The cowards had fled rather than risk meeting a similar fate.
Apparently, the usually dull job of sentry did not pay well enough for that.
He asked to see the rest of the gatehouse, and they showed him around, but he found no useful clues.
Upon returning to Wrynne on the ramparts, he joined her in gazing out at the bleak beauty of the wastelands. Little grew out on those boggy moors but sphagnum moss, heather, and sedge. An occasional craggy-limbed, blighted-looking tree stood here and there, but in the pink light of the setting sun, the lonely landscape held a certain wistful allure—at least when it was empty.
No Urmugoths were in sight, but it would be dark soon.
“What did you find out?” Wrynne murmured.
He shrugged, at a loss. “Not a whole lot.”
She turned to him, her gray eyes troubled. “Thaydor? If I’m right about the king, what will you do?”
He shook his head wearily. “I don’t know yet. I’m sure I’ll think of something.”
She took his hand. “Come. At least you’ll be safe at my place tonight.”
He glanced hungrily at her, pondering the night ahead. But will you be safe with me?
Chapter 5
Glow
Avalanche carried them up the mountain path to Wrynne’s bower, with two hours of daylight left before dusk.
When they arrived, she could already hear the fairies bickering in the rafters, and wondered aloud what to make for supper as Thaydor reined in.
“It will be nice to have a guest for once.”
“Don’t go to any trouble on my account,” he said as he dismounted.
“Nonsense, we’ve got to eat! You must be starved. It’s a late meal as it is.”
“Can I help?” he offered as he helped her down and set her on her feet. “I could make the fire for you.”
“If you like—or catch a couple of fish. They’re already confined with nets in a section of the brook. But really, you should just relax.”
“I’m happy to do whatever’s helpful. Just give me my orders,” he said with a winning smile.
“No, it’s all right. I’m picky about my cooking. The fire can’t be too high. Trout roasts best on a low flame.”
“Well, if you think of anything that I can do, just tell me. My lady?” he added as she turned around and headed for the pavilion.
“Yes?” At once, she paused, glanced back, and found him gazing at her with a wistful frown. “What is it?”
“I’ll be leaving in the morning.”
She tried to hide her disappointment. “Are you sure you feel well enough? I really think you need more rest.”
“I’m all right. I think a good night’s sleep tonight will have me back to my old self by tomorrow.”
“You can take the bed. I’ll sleep in my hanging chair.”
“Certainly not. I’ll sleep on the floor.”
“It’s fine! I take naps there all the time. I’ll be very comfortable. Please, I insist.”
“I’ve already imposed on you so much. As if it wasn’t enough you saved my life.”
“It’s not a problem.” She chuckled and took a step closer. “It’s been nice having you here. You’re welcome to stay.”
“No… I think I’d better be moving on. As long as your neighbors hand over my other horse, I’ll have her hitched and be on my way by midmorning.”
Wrynne smoothed the wrinkles out of her skirts after the long horseback ride and struggled not to argue. “Where will you go?” she asked in a measured tone.
“South to the capital. I think it’s time I go and have a talk with King Baynard.”
She jerked her head up to meet his gaze. “What?”
“I’m not going to run and hide. I’ve been thinking about it the whole way here, and I’ve concluded that the best course is simply for me to go and meet him face-to-face. I’m sure we can sort this out like reasonable men.”
“You can’t be serious,” she said. “Thaydor! He’s trying to have you killed!”
“We don’t know that for certain. Things looked a bit suspicious at the gates, I grant you, but we have no proof that His Majesty is the one behind it. In fact, he may need my protection. He’s still our king, even if he’s gone off course.”
She stared at him. “Your protection?”
“Between the Silver Sage breathing down his neck and his new mistress keeping him intoxicated round the clock, he may not even know what’s been happening. I might be the only one now who can help him. Free him from their foul influences.”
“But Thaydor—”
“Don’t worry, my lady. At the moment, the only person we can tie to any of this is Reynulf, and if I see him, I’ll know to be on my guard, thanks to you.”
She gazed at him for a long moment. “So you’ve made up your mind to return to the city.”
“Yes.”
“Very well. I’m coming with you,” she informed him, and pivoted to start gathering her things for their departure in the morning.
“Er, my lady, I don’t think that’s such a good idea.”
“Too bad!” She spun around and glared at him. “I went to a lot of trouble to save your life! I’m not going to stand by and do nothing while you go and throw it away.”
He tilted his head with a droll expression. “Give me a little credit, Wrynne. I’m not a fool.”
“You give others too much credit! Thaydor.” She took a step toward him. “You’re so good and fair-minded yourself that you can’t fathom those you consider allies being wicked. But they are. I feel it in my bones.”
“I’m not naive,” he said, bristling a bit. “I simply choose not to cast people down without facts, without proof. You cannot come with me, demoiselle. I am sorry.”
She narrowed her eyes at him. “Why not?”
“Because.” He stared at her.
“Because why?” she demanded, exasperated. “Are you finally admitting it is dangerous?”
“No, it’s not that.”
“Well?”
His cheeks flushed. “Are you going to make me say it?”
“Say what?” she exclaimed. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. I can do as I please, anyway. If I want to come with you, then I shall. You have no authority over me.”
“Actually, I do—in the hierarchy of the church, anyway.”
“Oh, pulling rank on me, Paladin? Very nice.”
He shrugged. “Sorry, but it’s for your own good. Besides, your people need you here.”
“And what of the will of Ilios, hmm? Maybe He prefers that I go with you. To protect you!”
His eyebrows rose slowly. He couldn’t hide the grin that crept across his face. “Protect me?”
She nearly stamped her foot in vexation. “Well, you have to sleep sometime! I could keep watch. You have no squire now. How will you even put on your armor to fight?”
“If you haven’t noticed, dear lady, my traveling companions have a tendency to die. Besides, you don’t know the first thing about squiring for a knight. You can barely lift my weapons, and I doubt you know the proper way of putting armor on a man.”
“Well, I took it off you handily enough,” she shot back.
His blue eyes flared at this bold reminder of how she had undressed him. Then he looked away and suddenly seemed to lose his train of thought.
Wrynne folded her arms across her chest. A pleased little humph escaped her.
He shook his head as if to clear it. “So where do you keep the kindling?”
“I told you, never mind. I can make the fire. Why don’t you see to your horse?”
He looked at Avalanche as though he had forgotten all about him. With a terse nod, he got to work unsaddling his steed. Wrynne remained a moment longer, wa
tching him in dismay.
“I don’t understand,” she said at length. “Am I such dull company? Because I thought it was rather pleasant today, the two of us working together.”
He sent her a piercing glance as he set the saddle down. “That’s the problem. Because contrary to rumor, my lady, I am not a saint.”
Wrynne blinked, finally grasping the source of his objections. “Oh,” she said in a slightly strangled tone. “I see.”
“Do you?” he taunted in a low tone, eyeing her in a most un-paladin-like way, just to make the point. As if she didn’t realize he was very much a man.
She looked away, cheeks burning. It suddenly seemed prudent to stop arguing.
“I’ll go make supper,” she mumbled, but as she hurried off, she felt his eyes on her body all the way to the fire pit that lay between her bower and the stream.
Unnerved, she kept her back to him as she fetched some dry kindling out of the tinderbox and tucked it under a couple of small logs in the fire pit. She fumbled with the flint, hands trembling after his blunt admission.
As she tried to strike a spark, he suddenly appeared beside her, startling her. He leaned down, and stilled her hands with his own much larger ones, gently cupping them with a warm touch.
“Let me do it,” he murmured by her ear. Then he took the flint and the fire steel and set the wood ablaze.
He did not look at her, nor she at him. Acute awareness charged the air between them, but they both stared at the growing bonfire.
“Thank you,” she said after a moment, stealing a wary sidelong glance at him.
He met her gaze and nodded, looking just a little too long into her eyes. He cleared his throat and rose. “What shall I do next?” Hands on hips, he awaited her command.
Heady thought. Wrynne chased off wayward imaginings. “Oh, nothing. Make yourself comfortable, please. I’ll let you know when supper’s ready.”
“Are you sure?”
She nodded. “It’ll only be about half an hour.”
“If you’re sure you don’t need me, I should clean up my armor a bit before it rusts.”