“Sabina,” I began uncomfortably. “You shouldn’t have told them.”
“Don’t be silly,” Sabina said, brushing me off. “They are dying to meet you.”
Sabina grabbed my arm, not listening to my protests as she led me back along the house to the front porch. I grudgingly allowed her to guide me up the steps toward the door. I decided it would be rude not to meet the father and brother since I was here. Besides, I was somewhat curious about what they would be like, considering how much I’d been told about them these past few weeks. Perhaps some hot food and talk, then, when Sabina and I were alone again, I would inform her that I was leaving and that would be the end of it.
Sabina swung the door open and led me into a fair-sized room dominated by a table fashioned from rough planks. A big man with a thick grey and red beard stood by the table, his arms clasped behind his back. A second man stood crouched in front of a tiny wood stove, prodding at the weak flames inside with an iron poker. He only had one arm, with the sleeve of his missing arm rolled up and sewn to his shoulder.
“Father, Ragna,” Sabina said proudly, wrapping her arm around my waist. “This is Hadrack of Corwick.”
I stood in the doorway, unable to tear my eyes away from the older man’s face. It was a face I knew—a face I had last seen as a boy. I reeled, feeling overwhelming emotion and anger explode inside me.
“Child!” Ragna the Elder whispered as he shifted his horrified gaze to his daughter. “What have you done?”
23: No Matter What
Jebido told me once that he believed The Mother had taken a vested interest in me and that there was no need for me to search for the surviving members of the nine. He claimed that She would deliver them to me when the time was right, and that I should stop worrying about it. I hadn’t wanted to hear his words at the time, frustrated as I was with the lack of progress I’d had in locating them. It was true that Calen, Quant Ranes, and Searl Merk had all come to me in ways that might seem more than just mere coincidence, yet I had found Hape on my own, so there had been some remaining doubt in me.
But now, staring across the room at two of the men that I’d sworn to kill, I knew my friend had been right all along. My doubt was gone. The Mother had orchestrated this very moment from the beginning. Everything that had happened since Malo had summoned me to Springlight had been predetermined to bring Ragna the Elder, his son, and me together. Why The Mother had gone to such great lengths was a mystery to me—one which I had neither the time nor the desire to worry about. Now was the time for action and revenge in its most violent form, and nothing else. I glanced sideways at the girl standing frozen beside me, knowing that she would hate me forever for what I was about to do. The look of joy on Sabina’s face had faltered, replaced now with one of confusion and unease as she shifted her eyes from me, to her father, then to her brother.
“Father?” Sabina finally asked in the awkward silence, her voice catching. “What’s wrong?”
Ragna the Younger shifted away from the stove, the iron poker clutched in his only hand. Ragna the Elder put his fists on his hips as we locked eyes, until finally, the older man surprised me by dropping his gaze to the floor. I thought I saw a flush of shame creeping along his cheeks, but perhaps it was just a trick of the shadows combined with wishful thinking on my part. Ragna the Younger growled low in his chest behind his father, the poker lifted threateningly as he took two steps forward.
Ragna the Elder sighed in resignation, nodding his head wearily before raising a hand, stopping his son. “Wait,” he said in a commanding tone.
“But, Father,” Ragna the Younger protested.
The older man turned; his face angry now as he looked at his son. “You will abide me, boy! Are you in that much of a hurry to die?” Sabina’s father turned back to me, the anger fading from his face. “I have been dreading this moment for so long now,” he said to me with regret in his voice.
I couldn’t respond, my mind filled with nothing but seething hatred and blind rage. Ragna the Elder had appeared big and formidable when I’d first entered, but now it seemed as though he had withered before my eyes, turning weak and broken. I didn’t care in the least. He would die regardless. Malo’s sword hung against my hip, tied there with rope. I put my hand on the hilt—a move none failed to notice. The older man facing me was unarmed, but I saw a longsword in a leather sheath propped up against the wall five feet away. I gestured to the weapon. “Pick it up,” I spat, finding my tongue. “I’ll not butcher unarmed men like you and your son did.”
“Hadrack?” Sabina said, clutching at my arm. “What are you doing? What is going on?”
“Did you know!?” I snapped as I shook Sabina’s hand off, feeling a coldness coming over me as I looked at her. The anger that I’d felt at what she had done in Waldin’s cave was like nothing compared to the disgust that I now felt for her. She was the offspring of a heartless butcher of women and children. As far as I was concerned, she had ceased to exist in my eyes. “Stay out of the way, you conniving bitch,” I growled. “Or you can suffer the same fate as the rest of your murderous family.”
Sabina gasped, raising a hand to her mouth as she saw the promise of my words burning in my eyes. She shrunk away from me, pressing her back to the wall.
“The child knows nothing,” Ragna said wearily. “She was barely able to walk then.” He indicated his son. “Ragna and I left the employ of Lord Corwick not long after—” He paused, searching for the words. Finally, he shrugged. “Trust me, we never told her what happened. She is innocent in this.”
“Told me what?” Sabina asked, finding her voice.
“I fear you will learn soon enough,” the older man said sadly.
“Father,” Ragna the Younger pleaded. The poker shook in his hand as he tried to restrain himself from rushing at me. I dearly wished he would.
“Let him loose,” I urged the father.
“You will kill him,” Ragna the Elder said.
“I’ll kill him either way,” I replied.
“Can we not talk about this? Will you stay your need for vengeance long enough to listen to me?”
I snorted. “Did you listen to anyone in Corwick when they pleaded for their lives?”
This time I saw Ragna the Elder flush deeply as he stole a glance toward his daughter. “That was a long time ago. I was a different man then.”
“Maybe it was a long time ago for you!” I snapped. “But it feels like yesterday to me. Every time I close my eyes, I see my family and friends dying. I hear them crying out to you for mercy—mercy that never came. I see the women of my village stripped naked and violated in ways that sicken my stomach to this very day.” I pointed at Ragna the Younger. “I see you doing that!” I hissed. “Rutting and laughing like a beast.” I stabbed a finger at the older man. “And I see you as well, Ragna the Elder. I watched from the bog as Hape and Calen held Meanda down while you used her. I watched as you got off of her, your lust sated, then slit her throat and laughed as her life’s blood poured into the mud.” I heard Sabina gasp behind me, but I ignored her. I was shaking with fury as I pointed at her father. “So, don’t you dare speak to me of being a changed man. I’ll hear none of it. Whatever you think you have become since that day is meaningless to me. You will always be a murdering, raping bastard who has spent far too many days in the world of the living. Today, I swear by my father and sister that I will take care of that injustice, and when I am done, I’ll spit on both of your filthy corpses.”
“We were just following orders!” Ragna the Younger shouted. His face was twisted in rage. “We were soldiers. We did what we were told.”
I could see the younger man was close to breaking, regardless of his father words. “You did it because you wanted to do it,” I said, goading him on. “You can tell yourself whatever lies you want to make yourself feel better, but in the end, I know the true evil that lives inside of you.”
“You bastard!” Ragna the Younger cried. “We should have killed you as a whelp when w
e had the chance.”
I heard Ragna the Elder shout something and Sabina scream, but the one-armed man was beyond listening now as he ran at me, the poker raised. I waited, biding my time, then dodged out of the way as the iron point whistled past my head. I lifted a knee, catching Ragna the Younger in the stomach. He dropped to the reed-covered floor, retching, his grip lost on the poker as it fell. I grabbed the fallen man by his thick red hair and hauled him to his feet, glancing at his father. The older man stood watching, an expression of deep regret on his face. A look passed between us, and I knew that he would do nothing to interfere.
Ragnar the Younger was heavyset, with thick shoulders and sturdy legs. He would have been a formidable foe with two arms, but now he only had the one, which he was using to pound against my head and shoulders ineffectively. I wrapped my hand around his throat and pinned him to the wall, choking him. Then I struck with my fist. Once, twice, then a third time, I hit the man, reveling in the fear in his eyes and the blood spurting from his face. I felt a savagery taking over me as I continued to hit him over and over again, battering his features into an unrecognizable mess. I could hear wailing coming from behind me and I felt someone grab at my arm, trying to stop me. I knew it was Sabina and I shrugged her away as I continued to punch Ragna the Younger, having to hold him up now as I rained blows at will upon him. Finally, I released the lifeless body and stepped back, breathing heavily as the bloodied corpse sagged to the floor.
“Why, Hadrack? Why?” I heard between agonized sobs.
I turned to see Sabina on her knees behind me, blood rolling from a deep cut on her cheek. Another high-pitched howl of grief arose, coming from an old woman who had just dragged herself through a doorway at the back of the room. Sabina’s ailing mother, I realized, recognizing her from Springlight. She was reaching out to her son, her mouth working before she collapsed and lay still. Sabina shrieked and ran to the woman as I faced her father.
“You could have helped him,” I said, gesturing to his dead son.
Ragna the Elder shook his head slowly, his gaze falling on his wife and daughter sprawled on the floor. “His fate was sealed the moment you walked through that door, Hadrack,” he said. He took a deep breath. “As was all of ours.”
“She’s dead!” Sabina wailed, rising to her knees. She stared at me with hatred in her eyes as she tore at her hair in grief. “You killed my mother, you bastard! You killed her!”
Ragna the Elder closed his eyes at the news. I felt a momentary pang of regret and started to move toward Sabina, but then I saw my father again in my mind that day on the ledge in Oasis.
“No matter what?” he’d said, referring to my vow.
“No matter what,” I promised.
I felt my heart harden again as I looked away from Sabina’s accusing eyes. I drew my sword, then motioned for Ragna to take up his.
The older man shook his head. “I won’t fight you, Hadrack,” he said. “I have done terrible things with a weapon in my hand. Now it’s time to make amends for that.”
“Do you think I won’t cut you down where you stand, sword, or not?” I demanded.
Ragna shrugged. “The moment is yours to do with what you wish. Kill me or don’t, it matters little to me.” He gestured to his wife and son. “My actions from years past have brought ruin to my family, much like I have always feared they would. That day in your village has haunted my nights ever since, and not a moment goes by where I wish I hadn’t just taken my son and ridden away from there.” He sighed and wiped his eyes, looking old and frail now.
“My father was a good man,” I said, fighting to keep my voice steady. “A good, decent man who had done nothing wrong.” Ragna bowed his head. “My sister loved to work in the garden,” I continued, more for me than for him. “She used to sing this song, I can’t remember the words now, but it always made me smile.” I gripped Malo’s sword tighter and took several steps toward Ragna. “I found my father’s head on a stake,” I growled, the sword swishing back and forth in front of me. I knew tears were on my cheeks, but I felt no shame. I was a man now, far removed from that terrified, eight-year-old boy from long ago. Yet I knew he was still with me somewhere inside. I glared at the man before me. Young Hadrack and I would have our revenge together.
“I know,” Ragna said, his voice thick with emotion. “I remember. Ranes placed it there.”
“You murdered innocent people,” I said, taking another step.
“I did,” Ragna admitted.
“You raped innocent women.” I took another step.
“Yes,” Ragna said. He stared at me, no fear in his eyes, only acceptance.
“You murdered a Son and a Daughter and burned the Holy House,” I rasped, now less than three feet from him. I could see Sabina crouched over her mother’s body, listening to us in horror.
“The First Pair forgive me, I did,” Ragna whispered. “All that you accuse me of, I am guilty of doing.”
“There can be no forgiveness for you,” I hissed. I put the blade to Ragna’s throat. “None!” I shouted.
Ragna put his hands over mine on the sword hilt, moving slowly to show that he meant no aggression. I could see deep suffering and regret simmering within his eyes, but I cared nothing for it.
“Promise me you will take care of my daughter,” he pleaded. “Marry her like you pledged to do before this all began.”
I laughed, a harsh sound that came from deep within my belly. “Marry the spawn of a murdering bastard like you? Even if I had actually considered such a notion to begin with, there is no way I’d make good on it now.”
Ragna’s eyes widened at my words, and then he closed them in defeat. “For Corwick, then.” He pressed his hands tighter over mine, then lunged forward, forcing the point of Malo’s blade into his neck. Warm blood sprayed over my arm as Ragna gurgled and twitched, his eyes bugling before he went limp and slid to the ground.
I could hear Sabina’s agonized sobs behind me as I reached under my clothing and drew out my brother’s Pair Stone. “Thank you, Mother,” I whispered. “I will never doubt you again.” I turned and stalked toward the open door.
“Hadrack!”
I paused and glanced back. Sabina stood among the bodies of her family, staring at me with tears sliding down her cheeks. She spread her hands, red now with the blood of her brother and father on them. “Please, don’t leave me like this,” she pleaded.
I thought of a hundred things that I could say to Sabina at that moment, but in the end, I said none of them. There was nothing left to say between us. I stepped outside and headed for my horse, hesitating for only a heartbeat when I heard Sabina’s forlorn cry echoing from inside.
“Come back for me, Hadrack! Come back!”
I have made many mistakes in my life, some through sheer stupidity and stubbornness, some from naivety or simple inexperience. But I have always believed that what happened in Ragna the Elder’s house was not a mistake. That, despite how cruel my actions must have seemed to Sabina and those that heard of it, I was left with only one choice that made any sense. One which could not be denied. Were I a more forgiving man, perhaps I would have found an alternative, though even now in my old age and supposed wisdom, I cannot imagine what that alternative might have been. What occurred in that house long ago was predestined, and we were just simple players in a much grander scheme. Or so I believed at the time. Now, as the pains grow worse daily and my memory fades, I occasionally wonder if it had actually happened the way that I think it did. The gods help me if it didn’t.
After I slaughtered Sabina’s family—for there is no other way to describe it—I mounted my horse, intending to head south. People were gathered outside Ragna the Elder’s home when I rode around front again, whispering and muttering to each other. The talk quickly ceased when they saw me, all grim-faced and blood-splattered with a crimson sword still gripped in my hand. A woman clutching a small child to her legs shrunk from me as I trotted past her, while the toddler stared up at me with innocent fas
cination. I tried not to think what I must look like to that child, wondering if I had become no better than the nine themselves in some ways. It was a sobering thought, one that stayed with me for hours as I rode away from Middleglen.
I traveled for two days, moody and irritable, my thoughts always circling back to Sabina and the look of horror and revulsion on her face. My father tried to come me during the night while I slept, but I thrust him away, banishing him to a part of my mind where I wouldn’t have to hear his words. I’d done what needed to be done, just as I had promised him, yet the nagging tug of guilt lay heavily upon me just the same. Killing Calen, Hape, Searl Merk, Quant Ranes, and even Ragna the Younger had been the best points of my life so far. I had no remorse for my actions. But Ragna the Elder, that was different. I had seen genuine regret in the older man’s eyes before he’d died, though I hadn’t wanted to acknowledge that fact. I had felt no happiness at his death, either—just a numb sense of doing what needed to be done.
Ragna had been as bad as any of the nine, perhaps worse, so why was I feeling this sudden apathy now that he was dead? It was a mystery, one which was beginning to annoy me as I crested a hill overlooking a small cluster of houses. I had no idea where I was, but I was tired and hungry and sick of being trapped within my own thoughts. I decided I needed company other than just my disinterested horse, and so I headed for the houses, my mood perking up slightly. It was a decision I would very quickly come to regret.
The village—if it could even be called that—was named Yellow Fields. Part of the fiefdom of Lord Graaf, who I’d heard of through Daughter Gernet. Lord Graaf was a powerful lord who had pledged his sword to Prince Tyrale and was warring somewhere to the south. His lands were vast and his coffers full, I’d heard—a prime target for the Outlaw of Corwick. I just hadn’t gotten around to him yet.
Perhaps after I returned to Witbridge, I would rectify that, I thought as I dismounted beside the first house. Several scrawny chickens pecked at the narrow, dusty road, and a single hog stared at me with mean eyes through the twisted planks of a pen not far away. Seeing the pig made me think about Corwick and my farm from long ago, stealing away some of my improving mood. A bent, wizened-looking man sat outside the house, whittling on a stick as he watched me warily.
The Wolf On The Run (The Wolf of Corwick Castle Book 3) Page 35