Will (Book 2)

by S. F. Burgess

  “You can change your mind any time you like,” he said gently. “But I don’t think that will stop the Lords of Mydren from hunting us down. You have made commitments: to the Dwarfs, the Elves, the People of the Horse and those Protectors who swore an oath to follow you. There is nothing to stop you walking away from all that, nothing but your own moral code. But I think you’re stronger than that. You’re not the type to cower in the dark, hoping the bad things will go away; and Eleanor won’t thank you for making her the excuse to become that person.”

  “I love her, truly. I want her to be happy,” Conlan whispered, the anguish showing clearly in his eyes.

  “Then be the great king she wants you to be. Be the great king we all want you to be. The atrocities perpetrated by the Lords of Mydren upset Eleanor just as much as they do you. Changing that will make her happy. Stop treating her like a fragile ornament—or worse, like most men in Mydren treat women. Let her be who she is and ignore the opinions of those Protectors,” Will suggested.

  “‘King’s Men’,” Conlan amended with a smile. “You keep referring to them as Protectors, but they are King’s Men.”

  Will shrugged. It was semantics; the name change did not alter who they were underneath.

  Conlan frowned. “You still don’t trust them, do you?”

  Will raised an eyebrow. “You’re telling me you do?”

  “I trust Davlin with Eleanor’s life. Moylan and Elroy have proved themselves to be loyal, Kip is… I like him, I trust him. Arran, too, can be trusted, I believe…”

  “And Mickle and Teris?” Will asked.

  “I have a problem with Mickle,” Conlan said with quiet thoughtfulness. “And Teris seems to follow his lead.”

  “Mickle is spiteful, untrustworthy, small-minded and seems to enjoy sowing discord,” Will said with the firm conviction of experience. “He needs removing from his position.”

  “He serves a useful purpose,” Conlan said. “These men are used to reporting to a captain. I can’t take the role—I need to have a little distance from the detail of their everyday lives to be able to maintain effective leadership. Freddie can’t do it—he doesn’t speak Dwarfish well enough yet. Davlin is currently more use training Eleanor in how Mydren armies operate, and you never expressed an interest. I have no one else who could take the job with the age and experience to demand their respect.”

  “Conlan, I never expected I’d have to ask,” Will admitted. “I thought you’d just give me the job. I was so surprised when you didn’t, I assumed you had made a particular decision in favour of Mickle…”

  Conlan’s eyebrows raised in disbelief. “You thought I wanted Mickle in charge?”

  “Well, you listen to him, rarely criticise, seem to ignore his nastier comments.”

  “He seemed the only viable option for captain, and once he was in that position I had to support him, at least in front of others. Mickle is meant to be an intermediary between my men and me—although it obviously isn’t working out as well as I’d hoped, as I still seem to be giving all the orders.” A bitter sneer twisted his lips. “The only area in which Mickle is at least competent appears to be in reporting back what my men are discussing. He loves telling me what they’re whining and gossiping about. But at least I have an idea what’s going on.”

  Surprised at what appeared to have been happening without him even being aware, Will found a stream of thoughts trickling through his head—thoughts which led him to some very interesting conclusions.

  “Conlan, Mickle has to go. And if you feel you have to give me the job, I’ll take it… but I think Eleanor would be a much better choice.”

  Conlan stared at him. “I can’t put a woman in charge of my men.”

  Will shrugged. “Why not?”

  “They’ll lose all respect for me. You saw how Moylan reacted when I made Eleanor his sword-master…”

  “Has Moylan complained since that day?” Will asked.

  “No, but that doesn’t mean he’s happy with the situation,” Conlan replied.

  “Do you think Eleanor would do a good job?” Will asked.

  The silence wrapped itself around them as Conlan consider this. When he finally spoke, he chose his words carefully, speaking with slow deliberation.

  “She would be a much more thoughtful and caring captain than they’re used to. They may perceive that as weakness, and she would find gaining and holding their respect and obedience very difficult, even with Davlin to back her up.”

  Especially with Davlin backing her up, Will thought. I’d find it hard to respect a superior who appeared to need twenty-four-hour protection.

  “She has a lot to learn, but I believe she would do a good job,” Conlan continued. “However, the effort she would put in is, unfortunately, not the only factor here. By making her captain I would be overplaying my belief in women’s equality before my men were ready, before they had time to build up a little trust in me or Eleanor. No, Will… I can’t put Eleanor in charge of my men—or Amelia, before you suggest it—but if you want the job, I’d be delighted to give it to you.”

  Will nodded. He had not expected Conlan to agree with the suggestion, but he had at least thought it through and given the concept consideration.

  “I think you’re mistaken. I think Eleanor would be a very good choice, showing that you’re more interested in the ability people have than in the years they have lived—but I understand your reservations. I’ll take the job. How do you intend to strip Mickle of his position while still keeping him on-side?”

  Conlan sighed. “I have no idea, but I can’t imagine it will be easy. Any ideas?”

  Will shook his head. “Not right now, but I’ll give it some thought.”

  They returned to picking up firewood as the sharp light of the rising sun began to make everything it hit sparkle like jewels. It made Will think of their mountain haven, and he felt a pang of homesickness. Wouldn’t it be wonderful if Conlan did decide to give up? We could go back, live out our lives in peace. Rolling his eyes at his own stupidity, Will gave himself a mental kick, knowing that pipe dream would be over before it began. The Lords of Mydren knew they existed, and Daratus knew from personal experience that they were a threat. The fight was coming, no matter how much ‘free will’ he spouted at Conlan to make him feel better. They were stuck now, on a fast track to war.

  They were heading back towards the camp, arms full of wood, when they heard the sounds of a fight, the clash of steel and angry yelling. Conlan flashed a concerned look at Will, dropped his cargo and took off in a headlong dash in the direction of the noise.

  Will muttered a couple of very rude Dwarfish words, dropped his own load and ran after him, wondering what the problem was. One day of peace and quiet, that’s all I want—one day of peace and quiet! Panting, he slowed down as they reached the camp. Conlan had stopped near the campfire; Will reached his side, noticing the confusion on his face.

  In front of them, with grim expressions and swords in their hands, Eleanor and Teris faced off. Mickle sat awkwardly off to one side, a pained expression on his pasty white face, cradling his right arm, and Davlin lay prone next to him; he did not appear to be conscious. Staring warily at Teris, Kip was knelt behind Eleanor, next to Arran, who groaned into the hands covering his face. Will could see blood dripping from the Enforcer’s fingers. Elroy, a small dagger in his hand, stood protectively over Arran and Kip.

  Eleanor’s attention was solely on Teris, her crouched body ready to attack at the least provocation. Her jacket and shirt were torn across the shoulder and down her back. The exposed flesh revealed welts—they looked to be from someone’s fingernails—which were filling with blood, and a large bruise was starting to colour across her chin.

  Taking all this in, Will noticed movement to his right, near their caravan steps. Amelia lay on the ground, and terror froze his gut as he realised her eyes were closed. Freddie was knelt next to her, feeling her neck for a pulse. Moylan knelt on her other side, looking alarmed. There was si
lence as every still-conscious face turned in Conlan’s direction—except for Eleanor’s; she had been well trained not to take her eyes off the enemy.

  “Will, check the casualties,” Conlan ordered. “Teris, Eleanor, place your weapons on the ground and step away from them.”

  “I am not facing her unarmed,” Teris said, fear and anger in his voice.

  “She does not need a weapon to kill you, Teris,” Conlan said with dark menace. “And since she had shown restraint by not ripping you apart with her energy so far, I would suspect that you are safe.”

  Will heard rather than saw the swords dropped to the ground as he knelt at Davlin’s side. A quick inspection revealed bruised ribs and a couple of vicious blows to the face. Davlin opened dazed eyes, but became alert very quickly, and Will left him to check on Amelia.

  “Does someone want to explain to me what is going on?” Conlan asked in Dwarfish, and Will could imagine how much effort it had taken to keep his steely voice calm and steady. Will moved to Amelia’s side, giving Freddie a nod of gratitude as he took his place, then ran quick, practiced hands over her, gingerly probing the limits of the slowly bleeding lump he discovered on the back of her head.

  “I’m sorry, Will; it all happened so fast,” Freddie said in a low voice. “Mickle attacked Arran, and Eleanor fought him off. We heard the noise, Amelia raised a shield, and Davlin went to help Eleanor, but Teris had snuck up behind us and clobbered Amelia with that night-stick thing they all carry. Teris and Mickle tried to take Davlin. He broke Mickle’s arm I think, but Teris got him to the ground and gave him quite a kicking. Eleanor snatched Davlin’s sword, and I figured she was more than enough of a match for Teris, so I stayed with Amelia. Is she okay?”

  From Freddie’s description, this did not sound like a spontaneous fight; it sounded planned, organised. Grateful beyond words that Freddie had chosen to stay and protect Amelia, Will gave his worried friend a warm, appreciative smile.

  “Her pulse is strong, but I’m guessing she’s going to have a nasty headache,” he said.

  Amelia’s eyes flickered open. “Will?” The utterance was frail, confused.

  “I’m gone for half an hour and you get yourself into a fight?” Will murmured, smiling and pulling her into his arms as she sat up. “How do you feel?”

  Her response was a shrug and a breathless “oww” as she rubbed the bruise on the back of her head.

  Conlan was still waiting for an answer; his face was stone, his glowing eyes glaring. “I do not like repeating myself,” he said. The controlled, lethal fury in his tone was chilling. He turned his furious gaze in Mickle’s direction. “What is going on?”

  “Freddie, please will you look after Amelia for me? I think Arran might need some help,” Will said softly. He stood, lifting Amelia off her feet and into his arms, then kissed her and handed her across to Freddie, who took the semi-conscious woman, pulling her close and nodding.

  Conlan was looking at Eleanor, the purple and red of the newly formed bruise spreading under her chin and up the side of her face; she, meanwhile, had not taken her eyes off Teris, who she obviously felt was still a threat. Will walked over to where Arran lay and gently pried the boy’s hands from his face so he could inspect the damage. With some muttering, Mickle struggled to his feet, cradling his right arm with his left. Staring calmly back at Conlan, he stepped forward.

  “We found them asleep,” he said, nodding towards Arran, his Dwarfish carrying a strong undercurrent of disgust. Will was not sure if that disgust was aimed at Arran, Eleanor or both of them. “We defended your honour, but she fought back.”

  “Of course I fought back, you drollup,” Eleanor hissed. “Arran did not do anything wrong.”

  “Shut up, Eleanor,” Conlan ordered, not looking at her.

  Eleanor’s body tensed at the rebuke; Will knew she would be working her way up to some kind of verbal explosion, but she had no idea what the rules were here, had no idea how much damage she could cause. Desperately wanting to stop the inevitable, Will nudged her with an energy string, feeling her solid, earthy strength fill his mind, so different from the light, delicate, tiny person she appeared to be.

  Eleanor, let Conlan handle this, he said before she had the chance to say anything more.

  Her anger rocketed through his mind, and when she glanced at him, her eyes flashed amber fury. Look at him, Will! she snarled, nodding towards Arran, who had pushed Will’s hands away and curled into a ball of pain, the occasional sob escaping him. He was asleep! They didn’t give him a chance to fight back, they just attacked him!

  Yes, Conlan can see that. Let him handle it, Will said again, pushing calm through her mind.

  Conlan was staring thoughtfully at Mickle. “Why did you believe my honour needed defending?”

  “Your woman was sleeping with another man, an Enforcer. What other conclusion was there?” Mickle asked, looking confused, and Will wondered if this was the first honest expression he had ever shown them.

  His WOMAN? What am I? PROPERTY? Eleanor yelled in Will’s head. In a blur of movement, and without warning, she punched Teris to the ground and left him lying on his back, winded, before he seemed to even know what had hit him. Stepping round him, her vicious snarl filling the air, Eleanor stalked towards Mickle.

  “Eleanor, stop!” Conlan ordered.

  She ignored him, getting closer to Mickle, who watched her approach with a calm acceptance that Eleanor seemed to find puzzling.

  Eleanor! STOP! Will demanded. You’re about to damage Conlan’s authority. To his surprise, the little pixie did as he asked, but he could feel her intense dislike for Mickle through their connection.

  I don’t understand, Eleanor said, sounding bewildered.

  No, I know you don’t; so stop trying to kick arse and listen to me, Will snapped. From Mickle’s point of view, you are Conlan’s property. Therefore you’re betraying him by spending the night with Arran.

  That’s totally ridiculous! I’m not his property, and even if I was, NOTHING happened! I just kept him company. Conlan doesn’t think anything happened, does he? The sudden fear and confusion, her dismayed thought that she might have upset Conlan, was so endearing that Will felt affection warm his heart.

  No, Eleanor, Conlan knows you just wanted to help Arran. But you’re a woman: you have no right to be sleeping with another man. We should have thought of this before. I’m sorry, I guess Conlan and I are both a little out of practice at dealing with the normal Mydren male. Unfortunately, if Conlan now admits that he allowed you to do this, it is going to have an impact on his authority. How can he hope to be king if he can’t even keep his woman out of another man’s arms? Will spoke slowly, cringing at the scolding fury she pulsed briefly through his mind.

  How can I fix this? Eleanor asked.

  I have no idea.

  With a snort of irritation, Eleanor pulled her energy free and turned.

  “Conlan?” she said quietly. “Please, may I speak?”

  Will heard the subservient pleading in the Dwarfish, as Conlan must have done. What’s the little pixie up to now?

  Conlan gave her a sharp nod, his voice cold. “Make it quick, Eleanor.”

  She took a few steps closer to him, watching his emotionless face. Stopping before him, she dropped to her knees.

  “I am sorry, Conlan,” she said, her head falling forward to hide the deep blush of embarrassment that was spreading across her cheeks, blending with the bruise, the Dwarfish carrying a grovelling apology. “I woke last night to find Arran had not been given a place to sleep or a blanket. I did not wish to wake you, so I came to join him and keep him company, so that he was not on his own. Nothing happened—we just talked a little. I should have asked your permission; I am sorry. Arran was not at fault.”

  Will forced the stunned look off his face. Eleanor had changed the whole problem—made it her fault. Arran was off the hook, and she had implied that Conlan had been unaware of her actions. She had also left herself wide open to whatever punis
hment Conlan saw fit to give, but she probably knew that and did not care. She had protected Arran’s and Conlan’s positions. Will doubted she had given her own well-being a second thought.

  “You went behind my back?” Conlan asked, playing to the story she had told, a hard edge to his voice.

  Eleanor nodded, looking miserable. “You were asleep. I did not want to wake you, and Arran was cold. He is not like me, I do not feel the cold—but he does… I just wanted to help him,” she said. Again, Will was surprised by her careful choice of words—a subtle reminder to those around them that she was different. She was an Avatar, and certain rules did not apply to her.

  “I assume you lied to Arran, too?” Conlan asked.

  Eleanor nodded again. “Arran thought you had given your permission for me to spend time with him. I told a small lie to help him. I did not think of the consequences.” Will saw the tears she was fighting back. For someone who was useless at lying, she was an incredible actress.

  Conlan sighed. “You put an honourable man in a difficult position, Eleanor. I have the utmost faith in Arran; I am sure nothing untoward did happen. You will apologise for lying to him,” Conlan ordered, glaring at Eleanor.

  Still on her knees, she looked across at Arran, who with Will’s help was sat watching, blood still oozing thickly from his nose. He stared, his face blank. Will wondered if he was aware enough to understand what was going on. The tears running down her face were clogging up her voice as Eleanor stumbled over her apology.

  “I am sorry, Arran,” she sniffed. “I should not have lied to you, but I was worried about you, and I knew you would send me away if you found out Conlan did not know. I am sorry they hurt you because of my thoughtlessness.”

  Will heard the genuine apology in Eleanor’s voice. She meant it; she truly believed that Arran was injured because she had acted irresponsibly. He felt a deep, hard anger twist his stomach at the idea that the little pixie was having to take the blame where no blame should be due. The sooner they brought women’s rights to Mydren, the better.