Path of Fire (Saga of The Wolf Book 3)

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Path of Fire (Saga of The Wolf Book 3) Page 4

by Kris A Hiatt


  Treace was so intent on what was happening to Wren that he never noticed that Exodin didn’t slow his approach. He was also sent flying to the ground and landed awkwardly.

  “What the hell is going on here?” Exodin roared.

  Treace didn’t think for a second that Exodin would have tackled him. He wasn’t prepared for the hit at all. When Treace opened his eyes he noticed that Jensen’s sword was right in front of him.

  Beyond the sword, Rinin was on top of Wren, punching him repeatedly. Wren was covering his face as best as he could with his hands and arms. It reminded Treace of his youth when he was being beaten by the very man who was now taking the blows.

  Without thinking, Treace grabbed the sword as he stood and rushed to Exodin, who was busy looking at the men huddled off to the side.

  “I said, what’s going on?” Exodin asked angrily.

  Treace put the tip of the sword to Exodin’s throat. How could the man he called his mentor turn on him? He could accept it from the likes of Wren. But Exodin? He was infuriated and appalled at the idea of it. “You would attack me?”

  Exodin raised his hands but otherwise didn’t move. “I didn’t attack you, Treace,” Exodin explained. “I was merely stopping a fight.”

  “Tell that to him,” Treace said, motioning to Rinin yet still keeping his eyes on Exodin. From the sound of it, Rinin was still punching Wren.

  Treace wasn’t about to take his eyes off of Exodin to look in that direction. “I can’t believe you would attack me,” Treace told him, both hurt and angry.

  “I didn’t attack,” Exodin replied. “I told you I was just stopping a fight. You’re the one holding a blade to my throat.”

  “Maybe I’m just stopping a fight,” Treace offered. Not that he really wanted Rinin to stop punching Wren, but he never missed an opportunity to use someone’s words against them.

  “Rinin!” Exodin yelled, still keeping his hands high.

  “What the hell?” Rinin asked, apparently done with his assault.

  “I want him hanged!” Wren spouted.

  “The fight is over, lower your weapon,” Exodin instructed, lowering his hand toward the blade.

  “Ah, ah, ah,” Treace told him, pressing in on the blade. He wasn’t ready to let this go just yet. He needed answers.

  Exodin winced and put his hands back up.

  “Treace, what the hell are you doing?” Rinin called out.

  “You attacked me,” Treace said again, angrier than before. It wasn’t just a statement, it was an accusation. Somewhere in his mind he knew he shouldn’t be upset. Exodin was just trying to stop a fight. He knew it, yet in his heart he still felt betrayed. Not only by Wren being a cheat and trying to kill him, but also, he realized for the first time, at being robbed of his victory by Rinin flying in and taking Wren to the ground. On top of that, at the time Treace only had a practice sword in his hand. Why would Exodin need to tackle him too? The fight was already over by then. It didn’t make any sense to him.

  “The blade may pierce but my heart remains true,” Exodin stated.

  “What?” Treace asked, images of his past flying back to him.

  “Those were your words to me once,” Exodin explained. “I am, and always will be your friend. I am no enemy.”

  Treace recalled one of their sparring sessions years ago. The fight was deemed a draw, his sword to Exodin’s throat, much like it was now, and Exodin’s sword at Treace’s flank, aimed at his heart. Treace had used those very words when his mentor had claimed victory. It seemed like such a long time ago.

  “But you attacked me,” was all Treace could say. He knew he should have been able to come up with a better response, but he was so emotionally distraught that he couldn’t.

  “I didn’t know what else to do,” Exodin explained. “But believe me when I tell you that I am not your enemy.”

  Treace felt his anger subside and in its place was shame. He had put the tip of his sword to the throat of the man that never treated him like an outcast or showed him anything but respect. He was also the very man that taught him how to use a sword and someone that Treace had shared many conversations and laughs with. He felt his face go flush. He lowered the weapon.

  “There’s my friend,” Exodin said calmly, lowering his hands.

  “What do you think you are doing?” Wren fumed, wiping blood from his nose and lips.

  Wren’s face was a mess. One eye was nearly all the way closed and blood poured from his nose and mouth. Treace thought the puffy cheek and swollen eye was his work, and perhaps the nose, but the split lip was most likely Rinin’s doing.

  “Saving your life,” Exodin replied.

  “I’m the one who had a weapon,” Wren countered.

  “And he was still winning. With a practice sword! Imagine if he had a real weapon in his hand,” Exodin replied.

  “I was beating him,” Wren blustered.

  Exodin drew his sword and held it out to Wren. “Take it. Go on, take it. Beat him.”

  Wren looked at the sword, which was the twin of the one Treace held in his hand, then at Treace. “My father will not be pleased. In fact, I’ll bet he wants him out of this town, and you along with him!”

  “Didn’t think so,” Exodin said, dropping his arm to his side. “And I don’t give a damn about what you’ll tell your father. In fact, I’m going to tell him myself. I’ll be saying my goodbyes in person.”

  “You can’t,” Wren told him. “He’s not well.”

  “So you’ve been saying. Which is why he’s coming with me,” Exodin said, pointing at Treace.

  “For what?” Wren asked, obviously not liking that idea in the least.

  “To heal your father,” Treace explained. He didn’t like the idea any better than Wren, but supposed it was the right thing to do. Even if he was the father of the little shit in front of him, he did sign off on Treace’s letter of recommendation to the College. It was the least Treace could do to repay him.

  “Like I said,” Wren told them. “You’re not going in there.”

  “You try and stop us,” Exodin told him.

  Wren looked to his men, obviously looking for support.

  Some lowered their heads and others simply shook theirs. They may not have went against Wren when Treace wanted a sword, but it seemed as if they somehow found their courage with the arrival of their former commander.

  “Fine,” Wren relented. “Give me an hour to get him decent, then return.”

  “They’re already here,” Emiah said.

  “We’ll see him now,” Exodin stated in tones that said he wasn’t leaving without seeing the man.

  “Wife, show them in. I’ve got errands to do,” Wren instructed. He turned and headed for the stable, spitting out a mouthful of blood as he walked.

  “He’s an asshole,” Rinin informed them before turning to Emiah. “No disrespect to you.”

  “No, you’re right. He is,” Emiah admitted.

  They walked toward the manor and as they approached the door Wren thundered out of the stable on a horse. They all looked over their shoulder at his departure.

  “What was that all about anyway?” Exodin asked.

  “I wanted Jensen’s sword back, and he wanted to be the one to beat The Wolf.”

  Exodin merely shook his head.

  “I’m sorry,” Treace told Exodin as they entered the building.

  “If it’s about fighting him, I get it. Knowing what he put you through when you were younger. I get it. To top it all off, he had Jensen’s sword. If it’s about me, you reacted, as I taught you, like a warrior.”

  It did feel good to put Wren in his place after all these years. He was going to say so, but decided against it. He nodded and let it go at that.

  Had he known the trouble Wren would cause in the future, he would have killed him on the spot.

  Chapter 4

  “Have you known him your whole life?” Emiah asked Exodin.

  “No,” Exodin admitted. “But I’ve known Big Wr
en a long time.”

  “Big Wren?” Treace asked. He’d never heard Exodin refer to the Constable that way before.

  “Big Wren and Little Wren,” Exodin explained. “My way of knowing who it is I’m talking about.”

  “I’ve just never heard you say that before.”

  “I’ve heard it many times,” Rinin added.

  “I never said it in front of you. I didn’t want you to get beat up more by calling him Little Wren. He hates it,” Exodin explained.

  Treace wished he’d known that a long time ago. He surely would have used it against the younger Wren.

  “Judging by your smile, I was right,” Exodin told him.

  “He did hate it,” Emiah confirmed. “He hated it when you called him that.”

  Exodin nodded but said nothing.

  “His father wasn’t going to name him the next constable you know? He was going to name you,” Emiah said, gesturing to Exodin. “Wren didn’t like that very much. They argued for a while, but his father wouldn’t change his mind.”

  “Why would he name me?” Exodin asked.

  “I don’t know,” Emiah admitted. “I just know that Little Wren didn’t like it.”

  Exodin smiled at the insult.

  “He talked about dismissing you when he became the next constable,” Emiah told him.

  “Well, he’s already leaving,” Treace replied. “So I guess he’ll never get to dismiss him.”

  “I doubt Big Wren will name his son as the next constable after what just happened with Treace. I don’t know the man all that well, admittedly, but I doubt he’ll like that his son practically attempted to murder someone. If he was fighting anyone else I’d say that was exactly what it was.”

  Treace thought it was more like the other way around. If Wren had been fighting anyone other than Treace, the fight either wouldn’t have happened or it would have just been a normal sparring match. He thought about saying as much, but he decided against it. He still wasn’t happy that he didn’t get his victory over Wren, but he got his sword back, and that was what truly mattered. Now he preferred to move on and put Wren behind him once again.

  “Let’s head in,” Exodin instructed.

  When Emiah opened the door, floral aromas filled the air, mixed with spices and something foul Treace couldn’t quite place.

  “How bad is he?” Treace asked Emiah. “The constable.”

  “Pretty bad, I’m assuming.”

  “Assuming?” Exodin asked.

  “I haven’t seen him for months. Wren wouldn’t permit it.”

  “Where are all the servants?” Rinin asked.

  “They were all let go,” Emiah explained. “Wren wanted to care for his father on his own. He even brings in fresh flowers every day. At first I thought it was kind of him.”

  “At first?” Treace asked.

  “Well, it’s been so long. Wren doesn’t even permit doctors to see him anymore. He still brings flowers but I think he’s hoping the old man will just die. I know that sounds wrong.”

  “Sounds like him to me,” Rinin stated.

  They went up the large staircase and down the main hall. As they neared the room at the end, the other scent became more prominent.

  Exodin and Rinin shared a look.

  “I’m sure it’s locked,” Emiah told them as she knocked on the door. “Hey there, you have some visitors.”

  There wasn’t an answer.

  Exodin tried the handle but it wouldn’t move. “It locks from the outside?”

  “Wren has a key, but I’m sure he can open it from the inside too,” Emiah explained.

  Exodin and Rinin shared another look.

  “Hello?” Emiah called out. “You have visitors. Can you open the door?”

  “Hey,” Exodin interrupted, grabbing Emiah’s shoulder softly. “Why don’t you go downstairs and bring us back a drink. Ale or wine, doesn’t matter.”

  “Are you sure?” she asked.

  “Yes, it’s fine, go ahead. I’d really like a drink.”

  “Me too,” Rinin added.

  She nodded and although she seemed confused, walked back toward the stairs.

  Treace looked to Exodin for an explanation. He didn’t offer one and instead nodded to Rinin.

  “Back up a step,” Rinin instructed.

  Exodin pushed Treace backward with him.

  Rinin kicked open the door and stepped through.

  “Dammit!” Rinin cursed a few moments later.

  “What is it?” Treace asked.

  “It’s what we thought,” Rinin said to Exodin as he continued into the room.

  Treace couldn’t see past Exodin and into the room, but that out of place aroma filled the air. It was subtle before, but now it simply assaulted his nose. He knew that smell. He’d found enough dead animals in the woods when he was a child to know that smell. He didn’t know how he’d missed it before.

  “He’s real bad, isn’t he?” Emiah asked from the top of the stairs.

  Treace never heard her approach. He didn’t think she’d return so quickly, and yet, there she was with a tray of wine and glasses.

  “His throat has been slit,” Rinin said from inside the room.

  Treace couldn’t believe it. The constable was gravely ill from some sort of disease, but his throat was slit? That didn’t make any sense to him. If what Emiah said about Wren visiting every day was true, it meant that Wren had most likely killed his own father. Why?

  “How long ago?” Exodin asked.

  “Month or two I’d wager, though I’m no expert,” Rinin replied.

  Exodin brushed past Treace and stood in front of Emiah. “Be honest with me. Did you know?”

  Emiah hesitated and tears streaked down her face.

  “Did you know?” Exodin repeated more forcefully.

  “No,” she cried. “I suspected, but he never let me go into the room. The bastard killed his own father. Do you think I’m that callous?”

  “He’s just doing his job,” Treace told her. He wanted to console her, but he wasn’t sure of what else to say.

  “Was he ever truly sick?” Exodin asked her, ignoring Treace.

  “He was sick, Wren wasn’t lying about that. He was okay back when Wren and I were married, not in perfect health, but he could feed himself and move about with some help.”

  “How long after that did his health deteriorate?” Exodin asked.

  “Not too long after we were married. It was slow at first, just progressively getting worse, but then the past few months he’s been very ill.”

  She sat the tray on a nearby stand and poured herself a glass which she quickly consumed.

  “How long ago was that argument about Big Wren naming me the next constable?” Exodin asked.

  “Two or three months,” she replied, refilling her glass.

  Exodin looked to Rinin.

  “I guess I was pretty close,” Rinin told them.

  “Well, then as your first act as constable, I’d say you should bring Wren in and ensure justice is served,” Exodin told Rinin.

  “Constable? I don’t think so,” Rinin replied.

  “I do,” Exodin argued, pouring himself a glass of wine. “I don’t know anyone better for the position. No one else knows the town, or her people, better than you.”

  “Congratulations,” Treace told him. He didn’t say it with any enthusiasm. He simply said it because he knew once Exodin made up his mind there wasn’t any changing it. Besides, his mentor was right. With Exodin, and most of the guards, leaving to become part of Liernin’s army, there wasn’t many suitable replacements left. Rinin was clearly the best choice.

  “Why not you? You can stay,” Rinin offered.

  “I can’t and you know it,” Exodin said, finishing his wine. He put down the glass and placed his hand on Rinin’s shoulder. “You’re the one for it.”

  Treace stepped away for a moment and looked into the bedroom at Big Wren’s body. He realized then that he had never seen the man before now. He�
��d heard about him and known about him his whole life, but he’d never actually seen the man. He realized he never would. The man was dead and what lay on the bed before Treace was no longer the constable.

  “I’d rather be fighting on the front lines with you,” Rinin protested.

  “But Liernin needs you here. More importantly, the town needs you here,” Exodin replied.

  Rinin nodded.

  “Take notes of everything that happened,” Exodin instructed. “Be as detailed as possible. Be sure to get Emiah’s point of view. I’ll start getting ready for the burial.”

  “I go from warrior to writer. I’m going to just love this job,” Rinin lamented sarcastically.

  “You’ll get used to it,” Exodin assured him. “Now let’s get to work.”

  Chapter 5

  “Goodbye, Mother,” Treace said, hugging her tightly.

  It had been only a couple of days since they buried Constable Wren, but they had stayed longer than Exodin had wanted. He was ready to get back to Haven and begin training Liernin’s army.

  “I love you,” she told him, stammering only slightly.

  Treace felt Jensen’s strong arms wrap around both him and his mother.

  “So do I,” the large man whispered in his ear.

  Treace pulled away and looked over his shoulder at his friends. Having ensured his mother was okay, it was time to return to Haven. He didn’t want to. He wanted to stay and protect her and Jensen. But he also knew he couldn’t escape the war. If he wanted to protect them, then he needed to help stop Shamir. That was the only answer.

  “Jenna, Jensen, it was nice to have met both of you,” Kiril said from atop her horse.

  “Likewise,” Treace’s mother replied. “You keep these men in line. Especially this one,” she said, gesturing in Treace’s direction.

  Kiril nodded.

  “You take care of her,” Heral instructed Jensen as he gave Jenna a hug.

  “I will,” the big man vowed.

  “Thank you,” Treace heard his mother whisper in Heral’s ear.

  “Family helps family,” Heral whispered back.

  “Farewell,” Exodin called out loudly before urging his horse on.

  “You better go,” his mother told him.

 

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