Will (Book 2)

by S. F. Burgess

  “You really do not understand your position, do you, boy?” Davlin said, pulling his hair tighter to emphasise the point. “You were asked a question—answer it!”

  “What does it matter what he is doing here, Conlan? Just kill him!” Mickle snapped. Will turned; he had not noticed the man standing behind him. “He knows where we are, and thanks to this moron,” Mickle continued, nodding at Davlin, “he has seen you. There is no choice. Kill him!”

  Anger hardened Conlan’s face. “No. I will not do that.”

  “Then I will do it for you,” Mickle said, pulling a sharp, sleek-looking knife from his boot and marching towards the boy.

  In one fluid movement, Davlin released Ellis and stepped in front of him, placing himself between the boy and the blade.

  “Get out of my way!” Mickle demanded. “What stupidity is this?”

  Davlin said nothing, returning Mickle’s self-important glare with an inscrutable look of his own.

  “He is protecting me from you, Mickle,” Ellis said softly, coming out from behind Davlin. “Which is sort of a good idea, don’t you think, Conlan?” the boy continued in English.

  Will gasped. Nausea washed over him and a deep pain filled his stomach. This is her plan? This is how she has chosen to convince Conlan that nobody will recognise her? What has she suffered to prove a point? Fearing how Conlan would handle Eleanor’s deception, Will moved slowly to position himself nearer.

  Conlan’s eyes widened. “Eleanor?” he asked with soft horror.

  She carefully nodded her head. “I really thought you’d get it with a name like Ellis.”

  His face expressionless, Conlan walked towards her. Placing a firm hand on her chin, he gently turned her head to inspect the blood-encrusted injuries and then tentatively touched her short hair, rubbing it between his fingers.

  “You didn’t recognise me. And if you didn’t, nobody else will either,” Eleanor said.

  “Davlin did this?” Conlan asked, switching to English, his voice stiff and controlled.

  “It’s self-inflicted,” Eleanor replied quickly.

  Conlan glared at her with disappointment and disgust. “While you seem happy to play me for an idiot, Eleanor, I’m not one,” he said slowly, dropping his hands and screwing them into tight fists. “I’ve taken enough blows to the face to know when someone else is involved. I’ll ask you again, and if you have any respect for me, you’ll answer the question truthfully. Did Davlin do this?”

  “I have the utmost respect for you, Conlan, but I need you to promise me you won’t hurt anyone before I give you the details,” Eleanor said, not really helping the situation by spitting another mouthful of blood to the ground.

  “DID DAVLIN DO THIS?” Conlan roared in Dwarfish, rage pounding through his words. Davlin tensed, but his calm, watchful expression did not change.

  Eleanor gasped and staggered back, her hands clutched over her heart. Anguish filled her eyes, tears mixing with the blood running down her face. A second later, the reverberation of the emotions Conlan had just unleashed at Eleanor crashed into Will.

  Until now, Conlan’s emotions had never been strong enough for Will to feel them. Has the connection strengthened the bonds between us? The raw pain, distress and barely controlled fury made Will’s head spin. Stupid, stupid little pixie. Had it not crossed her mind how Conlan was going to take this? Of course not; all she had wanted to do was prove she was right and win the argument.

  Conlan noticed her tears and took a deep breath. “Give me one good reason why I shouldn’t kill him where he stands!”

  “I’ll give you two,” Eleanor whispered, stepping forward and taking Conlan’s fist in her hands. “One, I need him to come to Gallendary with me. And two… Conlan—I trust him.” Her intense look and the way she had weighted her words made Will think this was the continuation of a previous conversation.

  Flat, cold, emotionless green eyes regarded Eleanor; eventually Conlan spoke, his frigid tone bitter and angry. “I promise you that I won’t take his life, but that’s all I’ll promise you.”

  Underneath the blood, Eleanor paled. Does she finally understand the potential consequences of her actions? Will inched closer, putting himself within grabbing distance.

  “Amelia cut my hair, Arran helped me dye it, and Davlin gave me the bruises,” Eleanor said slowly in Dwarfish.

  “They all knew about your plan?” Conlan asked, adding a furious snarl to the English that echoed off the trees around them.

  Eleanor shook her head, her voice trembling slightly. “No. Amelia and Arran didn’t know I planned to disguise myself this way.”

  Conlan turned to glare at Davlin with cold, malignant intent, his whole body coiled, ready to pounce. Will took another step towards him. Conlan saw the movement and forced his body to stillness.

  “Explain,” he ordered through clenched teeth.

  “I found her convincing Meran to kick her in the face,” Davlin said. “She seemed rather determined. I offered to help so I could control the injuries she would suffer. Ensure there would be little permanent damage.”

  “Meran was going to kick you in the face?” Conlan yelled at Eleanor in English.

  Eleanor shook her head. “He refused. He said you wouldn’t like it if he kicked your mate, but I didn’t tell Davlin that.”

  “Wonderful, my horse is smarter than you!” Conlan spat.

  “Conlan…” Eleanor began, coming to a breathless, fearful halt as glowing green eyes glared at her.

  “Davlin, get out of my sight!” Conlan ordered, his eyes not leaving Eleanor, the hard snapping bark giving Davlin a very good idea of just how much trouble he was in. “Far out of my sight,” Conlan added. “Eleanor will come and find you when she is ready to leave for Gallendary. I will deal with you when you return.”

  Davlin gave him a curt nod and headed back out to his sentry duty.

  Grabbing Eleanor’s arm, Conlan dragged her after him as he walked away from Mickle’s, Arran’s and Moylan’s stunned expressions. “Will, I need your assistance. Please bring your medical bag,” he ordered over his shoulder.

  Will followed as Conlan marched Eleanor out of the main camp area and down the valley in fuming, hostile silence. Once they reached the stream, Conlan released her and pointed at a large boulder at the edge of the water.

  “Sit!”

  Eleanor meekly did as she was told, looking truly frightened. Will washed his hands, moved to crouch at her side and opened his medical bag. Eleanor was watching Conlan, who paced back and forth, clenching and unclenching his fists, a deep angry growl rumbling through him.

  “Clean her up, Will,” he ordered, not looking at either of them. “I can’t be here right now. I need to calm down before I do something I regret.”

  Impressed with his control, Will watched him turn and stalk off between the trees, quickly disappearing from view.

  Eleanor relaxed slightly. “I really screwed up, didn’t I?”

  Will nodded as he leaned closer to inspect her face, running gentle fingers over her cheek. The injuries were not as bad as they looked. While there was quite a bit of blood, there did not seem to be any broken bones, and there was no serious damage to her eye or jaw. Just a few more scars to add to her collection.

  “The blood needs washing off. Do you want to do it?” Will asked. Eleanor nodded, dropping to her knees and gently splashing water onto her face, wiping off as much of the blood as she could.

  Sitting back on the boulder, Eleanor waited while Will sorted out the items he would need from his medical kit.

  “Please talk to me,” she whispered.

  Will sighed. “What do you want me to say?”

  “Tell me the truth.”

  Will snorted. “You don’t need me for that. You’re well aware of the stupid, irresponsible stunt you just pulled. You just want me to tell you it’s okay; you want me to go to Conlan and make it right with him too. But that’s not going to happen. You made this mess, Eleanor, and you can deal with the
consequences. This isn’t a game.”

  She nodded and was silent for a moment.

  “What’s he going to do to Davlin?” Eleanor asked, her small voice full of worry.

  Will shrugged. “Conlan promised you he wouldn’t kill the man, but he would be well within his rights to have him flogged.”

  Eleanor gasped, horrified. “He can’t do that.”

  “Yes, he can,” Will said with cold certainty. “You have put Conlan in a very difficult position, and Davlin in a very dangerous one.”

  “I don’t understand.”

  “And that’s the problem: you have no clue, at all, of what’s at stake,” Will snapped. “This is not some jolly sleepover, and these men are not harmless new friends. Every single one of them is a vicious killer, and they have a very different view of the world than you and I do. Mickle, just now, would have slit your throat and not given it a second thought.”

  “Conlan isn’t like that; he would have stopped him,” Eleanor insisted.

  Will nodded. “And at what cost to his authority?”

  Eleanor’s eyes widened. Now she gets it! She fell into a miserable silence as Will used alcohol to remove the rest of the blood, then applied his homemade antiseptic jelly, doing his best to present a facade of dispassionate disinterest at her hisses of pain. When he reached down to pick up his needle and thread to seal the split bruise across her cheek, Eleanor put a hand on his arm.

  “No, Will, your stitching is too careful, too professional. It might create questions I can’t answer when I go into Gallendary.”

  Will frowned. “It’s going to leave an ugly scar.”

  Eleanor gave him a sad smile. “A permanent reminder of my stupidity is no less than I deserve. And it means I really won’t look like that wanted poster anymore.”

  “No, but it will be a constant reminder to Conlan of how far you’re willing to go to prove him wrong,” Will said quietly.

  “This wasn’t about proving him wrong,” Eleanor said, looking shocked. “I just wanted him to understand that I’m not some fragile doll that needs wrapping in cotton wool.”

  “Let me know how that works out for you,” Will said drily, packing his supplies into his medical bag and heading back to the camp. If he stayed, the distress and confusion in those warm brown eyes would melt his anger and he would end up involved in something that Eleanor really had to sort out for herself.

  He wondered if she would go to find Conlan. Had she asked him, he would have advised against it, but then, he had given her that advice before and she had ignored it—to her detriment. He wondered if she had learnt from that experience.

  Freddie and Amelia were huddled together in front of the cooking fire when Will returned. They both looked relieved to see him. Moylan, Kip and Mickle sat in their own whispering huddle round the larger campfire; Arran sat apart, clearly not feeling welcome in either group, only his eyes showing his apprehension.

  “What’s going on?” Amelia asked as Will sat next to them. “The Protectors are being strange. They seem upset.”

  Distracted by how stunning she looked with still-damp hair falling in tendrils to frame her beautiful expressive face, Will had to work hard to drag his thoughts back to answer the question. With a sigh he told them about the morning’s drama.

  “Is she okay?” Amelia asked when he had finished the story.

  Will nodded. “Davlin was very careful—it looks far worse than it actually is. She’ll be fine.”

  “So she made Conlan look like a fool, injured herself and lined Davlin up for the mother of all kickings… all to prove a point?” Freddie summed up, looking disgusted.

  Having fully expecting to have to talk Freddie out of killing Davlin, Will was surprised by his comment and impressed with his understanding of the situation. “That’s pretty much it, yes,” he replied. “Of course, Eleanor doesn’t see it that way.”

  Freddie gave a contemptuous snort.

  “Where is she now?” Amelia asked.

  “There,” Freddie said, pointing as Eleanor walked back into camp. Her red-rimmed eyes spoke of tears, but her face was now set in a hard, resolute mask as she stamped purposefully in the direction Davlin had headed, towards the boundary of their camp.

  “Her face looks awful,” Amelia said with a concerned frown. “Will, are you sure she’ll be okay?”

  “Yes, she’s just gained a few more scars.”

  “Silly, silly girl,” Amelia said, shaking her head.

  “It’s nothing compared to the injuries Davlin is going to have to deal with when Conlan gets his hands on him,” Freddie said darkly.

  Will looked at Freddie’s grim expression. He almost sounded sorry for Davlin—another unexpected response.

  “It will be alright once Conlan has calmed down,” Amelia said with conviction.

  “No, Amelia, it won’t. It doesn’t matter whether Conlan is still angry with Davlin or not; he will have no choice but to punish him,” Freddie said.

  Amelia shook her head. “Conlan isn’t cruel.”

  “No,” Freddie agreed. “But he’s in charge of a bunch of murderous thugs. And with the exception of Kip, they will see him as weak if he lets Davlin’s behaviour slide. And being seen as weak by men like these, regardless of the oaths they have taken, would be a really bad thing.”

  Amelia turned stormy grey eyes towards Will, and he felt his whole body erupt in goose bumps at the fear contained within them.

  “What’s he going to do?” she asked.

  “I don’t know,” Will said carefully. “I guess, if he’s sticking with the way Protectors do things, he’ll have Davlin flogged.”

  Amelia’s fear was joined by disbelieving horror. “But that would make him no better than the Lords of Mydren. We have to stop him.”

  “We can’t stop him,” Freddie said with uncommon seriousness. “That would destroy his control even quicker than if he did nothing. Part of his authority comes from the fact that four Avatars follow him. We can’t make the Protectors question that.”

  Will stared, a little stunned by Freddie’s perception and the evidence of a logical, observant, politically motivated brain behind the jokes and the laughter. His musings must have shown on his face because Freddie smirked.

  “I do have eyes, you know,” he commented.

  Yes, and apparently a very insightful mind—how did I miss that? Will thought, smiling at him.

  “Eleanor’s heading this way,” Freddie said, nodding behind Will’s shoulder. Will turned; the little pixie did not look at him as she approached.

  “Davlin and I are going to Gallendary now. I…” she stopped and took a deep breath, her eyes not leaving her feet. “Conlan isn’t back yet. I thought… I…” she stopped again, but this time it was obvious she was fighting back tears. “Tell him I’m sorry, that I love him and I’ll be back soon,” she managed, then turned abruptly and marched back to where Davlin waited for her, Remic’s knife strapped to his thigh.

  “No matter how mad Conlan is, I didn’t think he’d let Eleanor go off without saying goodbye,” Freddie said, a troubled look drifting across his face.

  Amelia pulled herself to her feet. “I can’t let her leave like that,” she muttered in explanation, and ran after Eleanor. Will watch a guilty look settle across Freddie’s face, but he resisted the urge to follow.

  When she caught up with Eleanor, Amelia pulled her friend into a tight embrace, said something to her and squeezed her hand, then watched as Davlin and Eleanor disappeared out of the camp, into the surrounding trees, in the direction of the track into Gallendary.

  “Is she really safe with Davlin?” Freddie asked, very nearly hiding his fear for her.

  “I think he can get Eleanor to Gallendary and back in one piece,” Will replied.

  “But do you trust him?” Freddie asked, closely monitoring Will’s face.

  Will considered the question. In the brief time he had spent with the dark-eyed, quietly intelligent man, he had liked him, but there had been nowher
e near enough time to build trust.

  “Not yet,” he said finally.

  Seeing Amelia’s and Freddie’s concern, Will had asked Kip if he would like their help with anything, hoping to distract them from worrying about Eleanor and Conlan for a while. So for several hours they collected firewood, hauled water and harvested the tart, deep-blue berries that Kip liked to add to their morning bread or porridge. Moylan sat by the fire, teaching Arran how to sharpen and clean their sword and dagger blades, and Mickle returned to his bow-making. When it came time for Kip to start making lunch, Will left Amelia and Freddie naming, then chopping, vegetables and herbs.

  The heavy rainstorm Will knew was coming had not yet arrived, but the day had darkened further, a damp mist giving everything an ‘out of focus’ feel. Worry for Eleanor surfaced in his mind, and regret kicked him for not having said goodbye, for letting her leave on a potentially dangerous mission thinking he was still angry with her. She’ll be fine. He wished he could put more conviction into this thought, but the black oppressive clouds and the way the mist closed in around them made him uncomfortable. Maybe I should try and contact her? Their brands had not ached; Eleanor was still reachable with his energy string. Would he be able to find her? What if he distracted her at the wrong moment? She could contact them if she needed help. She’ll be fine.

  He found himself in front of Mickle’s workshop, under its thick roof of branches and leaves. The short, solid man leaned over his workbench—a rough-hewn piece of wood resting on two large sections of a tree trunk—squinting his watery blue eyes as he platted what appeared to be thin leather strips.

  “Will.”

  Conlan’s voice behind him made him jump and turn, startling Mickle too.

  “Where is she?” Conlan asked, his anger still bubbling beneath the Dwarfish.

  “She went into Gallendary with Davlin.”

  Pain shot through Conlan’s eyes. “She left before I got back…?” It was a rhetorical question asked in English. Will answered it anyway.

  “I think she assumed you wouldn’t be coming back for a while. She said to tell you she was sorry, and that she loved you and would be back soon.”