Will (Book 2)

by S. F. Burgess

  Will nodded. “So was the man who finished what Rudd started, only he gave Kip a swift, dignified end. Rudd crossed a line, just as he did in torturing Conlan. I know you did not approve. Rudd was a monster, the very worst the Protectors produce. Why are you defending him?”

  Cai stared, emotions fighting across his face: grief, anger and confusion.

  “Get away from Will and Conlan!”

  Eleanor’s order bristled with fury. She, Freddie and Amelia were walking down the track towards them. All three held swords in a relaxed but ready grip. Will wanted to be mad at them, for putting themselves at risk, for disobeying Conlan, but he felt only relief. Cai spun around.

  “I am the Avatar of Earth, and these are the Avatars of Fire and Air,” Eleanor said, introducing Freddie and Amelia, who stood on either side of her. Cai took a couple of steps back. A predatory smile spread across Eleanor’s face, but her eyes remained hard, burning amber rage. “Good, you have heard of us. Can I then trust you to stay out of the way while we collect our people?”

  Cai turned his head and nodded to one of his men. The man was fast—he pulled a short blade from a scabbard at his waist and made to hold it to Will’s throat—but Amelia was faster. As the man lunged toward Will, he smacked right into a shield Amelia had erected to protect them.

  Cai paled.

  “Let them go, Cai,” Daman urged.

  “And say what to the captain and Lord Daratus?” Cai snapped. “You know as well as I do how that will go. No, there are no more choices and no more talk.” Pulling his large two-handed sword from its scabbard with a metallic hiss, Cai ran at Eleanor, yelling his courage. To their credit, his men followed him. Daman lowered himself back to the ground, giving Will a horrified glance. Eleanor, Freddie and Amelia moved into a fighting stance, light and ready to move.

  As they got closer, all the Protectors were hit by the force of air. Knocked sideways off their feet, crashing and tumbling together, they were flung across the track and into the ditch at the side. When it did not look like anyone was getting up, Eleanor sheathed her sword and ran to Conlan, tears filling her eyes. Will watched, numb and cold, as she checked for his pulse. Everything felt so distant.

  “He’s still alive,” Eleanor told him, her tone clinical, her manner quick and efficient, just as he had taught her. Will felt the steel grip on his heart loosen a little and he let out a breath he had not been aware he was holding. Behind Eleanor, Amelia moved to check on Arran, and Freddie hurried to hitch Lady and Pal to their cart. Some of the Protectors Conlan had incapacitated began to come round. A few were able to pull themselves up, but Daman caught their eyes and shook his head, and they remained where they were, watching but not interfering.

  Daman respectfully asked if his men could see to their injured; Eleanor agreed on the understanding that they continue to stay out of their way. As a few of the more able-bodied Protectors moved among the fallen, Amelia and Freddie cut through Arran’s bonds and Freddie carried him into the cart.

  “Will…?” Eleanor stood in front of him; Will had the feeling she might have called his name a few times. “Will? We need to get Conlan out of here. Can Freddie take him?”

  Will blinked, wondering where his mind had been—time had jumped. Eleanor knelt in front of him, her small hand on his face, fear and worry in her eyes. Confused by her request, it took him several moments to realise he was still clutching Conlan closely to him. He would need to loosen his grip before Freddie could take him. But understanding that and complying were worlds apart, and before he had figured it out, the sound of horse’s hooves rapidly approached down the track from behind him.

  Eleanor drew her sword, moving with Amelia and Freddie to stand between Will and Conlan and this new threat. Will heard three or four horses brought to a sharp halt and feet hitting the ground as men dismounted.

  “What is going on here?” The voice was strong, firm and familiar.

  “Captain, Conlan Baydon wished to leave,” Daman said quietly. “We tried to stop him. I do not believe we were successful.”

  “But I see him still,” the captain said, confused.

  “Perhaps, but he will be leaving,” Eleanor said with soft menace.

  “Captain, please listen to her; this is the Avatar of Earth. Let them go—this traitor is not what we were led to believe,” Daman said.

  Will raised his head as the captain moved into his line of vision. Eleanor followed closely behind the captain, but she relaxed slightly when he made no overtly threatening moves.

  “What happened?” he asked, looking down at the pummelled, unconscious body that Will cradled.

  “Rudd,” Will replied, the name filled with the loathing he still felt towards the dead man.

  The captain shook his head. “I thought Cai would keep him in line.”

  Will glared at him. “Your men knew that Rudd could not be controlled; why did you think Cai—” Will stopped, confused by the anguish in the captain’s eyes. There was more here than he knew.

  “Cai and Rudd are brothers… my sons,” the captain said. “If anyone could rein in Rudd’s cruelty, it was Cai.”

  “Well, he failed,” Will snapped.

  The captain looked around at the carnage of moaning men and nodded his head. “Did either of them survive?” he asked, and Will had to work hard not to react to the man’s fear, to maintain his anger.

  “Rudd is dead,” Will told him in a cold voice. “Given a swifter death than he deserved. Cai may still be alive; he is in the ditch on the other side of the road.” He nodded in the direction Cai had been pushed by Amelia’s defensive strike.

  The captain looked at one of the men who had accompanied him and jerked his head in the direction of the ditch. Will heard the gravel of the track crunched underfoot as the man went to investigate.

  The captain looked back, and Will faced the pain in his eyes, daring him to object to his cold assessment of Rudd’s death. But the captain just looked bewildered. Dropping to his knees, he face ashen, he stared at Will. Ashamed, Will dropped his head and muttered the first inane thing that slipped into his mind, an empty platitude from another world.

  “I am sorry for your loss.”

  “No, let us not lie to each other now,” the captain replied. “You are not sorry, but I understand. I saw in Conlan Baydon’s face what that boy meant to him. Rudd sealed his own fate with his heartless actions.”

  “Kip,” Will said, grief he no longer had the strength to stop marching through the halting words. “His name was Kip. He was sixteen years old.”

  “A son for a son, and we lose our future in revenge for the past,” the captain murmured. “I gave him a warrior’s burning—Kip. He had a warrior’s pyre by my own hand.”

  “Conlan will appreciate the gesture. But dead is dead, and it does not have to be this way,” Will insisted.

  “Captain?” a voice yelled from the ditch on the far side of the road. “Cai is here. He is unconscious but still alive.”

  The captain looked blankly at the man for a moment before nodding absently, his gaze drifting back to Will.

  “Conlan Baydon challenges the order of things; we will all be bathed in blood before it is over.” The captain’s lifeless tone gave the comment the feel of a prophecy, and Will shuddered as fear bit deeply into him.

  It was Eleanor who replied. “We do not want what you are talking about. We want to get rid of the hypocrisy and lies that the Lords of Mydren represent. We want to remove the diseased corruption eighty men have forced on us all.”

  The captain looked up, surprised. “How little you know of the Lord’s capacity for death and destruction,” he said. “You compare them to a disease, but in truth, they are the body now. They reach so far and so deep, if you strip them away, there will be nothing left.”

  “No!” Eleanor spat, making them all jump and reminding Will just how tense he was. “I refuse to believe that the evil brutality of the Lords of Mydren is all there is. I know that it is not. I have seen the good in the peo
ple of Mydren; it shines like diamonds in the dirt. We are going to make a change. You, the Protectors, the Enforcers, everyone, has three choices: you can stand with us, you can stand against us, or you can stand aside and let us pass. You just have to decide which fits best with your conscience. Whom do you want to serve? The Lords of Mydren? Or your fellow countrymen who look to you for leadership and protection?”

  “You speak boldly for a woman,” the captain said with mild surprise. “Do you not have a father or husband to teach you your place?”

  Eleanor smiled with chilly disdain. “I have both a father and a lover,” she said, nodding at Conlan and Will. “And I have many brothers. I have learnt my place from their example. My place, Captain, is standing between the darkness in our world and the innocent people who live in it.”

  The captain smiled—it was oddly charming. Will could see where Cai had got his charisma, but unfortunately Eleanor misinterpreted the look.

  “It is not funny!” she growled. “We are risking our lives to help Mydren, and a woman can be just as strong and intelligent as a man!”

  “I meant no disrespect. I believe my wife would agree with you,” the captain said with disarming honesty. “Although not in front of me,” he added softly, looking a little sad. “She has always given me wise advice.”

  “And what would your wife advise you now?” Eleanor asked.

  “That standing aside and letting you pass would be a very good idea.”

  Eleanor nodded. “A wise woman indeed, although maybe one who might question your convictions in the future.”

  “Perhaps,” the captain allowed as he stood and stepped back, away from Will and Conlan.

  Freddie knelt before Will. “Will? Can I take Conlan now?” There was pity in his eyes as he looked at the broken figure before him. Will nodded and surrendered Conlan’s limp body to him. Freddie carried him awkwardly back to the cart, followed by Eleanor, who gave the captain a respectful nod as she passed. He watched them go, grief and pain clear in his eyes. Thinking of the wife who is soon to be a grieving mother, Will thought, his sympathy for the man fighting with the knowledge that Conlan had done the right thing.

  “Will…?” Amelia said, touching his shoulder. He looked up at her.

  “Yes?” It was Dwarfish he had spoken, the English momentarily escaping him.

  Amelia tilted her head, confused. “We should go now,” she said in perfect but self-conscious Dwarfish. Impressed and bemused, he gave her a smile that felt like a grimace, and with her help, pulled himself to his feet. Everything ached, but Will knew from unpleasant experience that it would be the next few days which would be the worst. Tonight, hopefully, he would sleep, and by tomorrow he would be so stiff that just sitting up would be too much. He did not relish the experience, but it meant he had survived—again. Life is pain, and I choose to embrace mine. Walking with slow, careful steps, doing his best to lean as little as possible on Amelia, Will headed towards the cart, knowing Daman’s and the captain’s eyes were on his back as he did.

  Time faded in and out. Will lay on one of the carts’ side beds, nausea washing over him as they trundled down the track, away, every moment farther away. Amelia drove, Freddie alternately using Meran and Horse to run checks of their surroundings, ensuring both horses were kept fresh should he require their speed. However, despite their fears, no one seemed to be following them yet.

  Eleanor did her best to doctor Conlan, Arran and Will. Fighting back her tears, dealing with the injuries she discovered with cold, level-headed professionalism, she quickly filled the cart with the sharp smell of Will’s homemade antibacterial wound salve. Any doubts Will had harboured about her ability to use the healing knowledge he was giving her evaporated as he watched her carefully stitch a deep, weeping gash that ran across Conlan’s shoulder. Talking to herself as she worked, she ensured that nothing was missed: cleaning the wound, flushing it out, checking for muscle damage and infection. She kept up her monologue, explaining to herself that judging from Conlan’s heart rate, cold hands and mottled skin, there seemed to have been a fair amount of blood loss. Before Will could comment, Eleanor made the assumption that most of it was from where the circlet of the metal crown had bonded with his skin. She carefully inspected, cleaned and fixed up each cut, burn, abrasion and bruise, bandaging where necessary. With Will’s occasional advice she then gingerly applied splints and set Conlan’s fingers. He whimpered, but did not wake. Several large tears had rolled slowly down her face before she finished.

  Will was aware enough to be fearful when Eleanor reached him, but he was impressed with her calm, practiced bedside manner. She muttered a little over the mess of the partially healed arrow wound in his leg, but he felt almost no pain as she stitched it together and bound it tightly. Will was surprised when Eleanor told him Arran was still breathing. His fever had broken, and flat unconsciousness had given way to sleep, Will pointing out the telltale signs to Eleanor. It was deep sleep, but there was every chance he could wake up from it.

  When Eleanor had done the best she could to tend to the wounded, she climbed onto the couch with Conlan, arranging herself so that Conlan’s pillow rested against her thigh while she sat up, resting her back against the cart wall under the bunk bed on which Arran lay. Her small hand rested against Conlan’s neck and there was a tender devotion in her eyes, offering him the comfort of her presence.

  Will dozed, and again time jumped. What had seemed like only a few hours must have been far longer, as the next time Will opened his eyes the cart had stopped. The shutters were closed, the fire and lanterns lit. Amelia and Freddie sat next to each other on the bed across from him, and both looked worried, each stealing glances at Conlan when they did not think the other was looking.

  Amelia noticed Will watching her and moved to kneel at his side. Gently running a hand through his hair she smiled. “How do you feel?”

  “Sore,” Will admitted ruefully.

  “We have some lepdrac, to numb the pain a little, but not much, and…” Amelia glanced back at Conlan.

  “And Conlan needs it more than I do,” Will finished for her. Amelia looked back at him and nodded, tears filling her eyes.

  Hearing the noise, Eleanor looked at him. “Will,” she whispered, her voice splintered agony. “Teach me how to pull him away from his pain.”

  Will sighed sadly. “I’m not sure you can anymore, unless he lets you. The crown has given him a way of locking us out of his mind.”

  “The pain’s not too bad,” Conlan mumbled. “I can share the lepdrac with Will.”

  “Conlan…?” Eleanor’s voice was tight.

  “Eleanor…” Conlan spoke her name like a benediction, gazing into her face. “What happened?” he asked, sounding confused and dazed.

  “We got rescued,” Will said quietly. Conlan turned his head, unfocused green eyes staring into Will’s soul until Will began to feel uncomfortable. Slowly the glowing gaze moved to Amelia and Freddie, resting on each until they looked away.

  “I told you not to come back for us,” Conlan admonished, but the gratitude in his smile ruined any severity the words might have held.

  Eleanor shrugged. “We can take you back again if you prefer…”

  “No!” Will and Conlan both said emphatically.

  Conlan turned his head to look into Eleanor’s face. “But Davlin should have stopped you,” he added with earnest concern.

  “He tried,” Freddie assured him.

  “He should have tried harder,” Conlan insisted.

  “And you can tell him that when he comes round,” Amelia advised him.

  Conlan’s eyes widened. “Eleanor…?”

  Eleanor hung her head. When she spoke, her voice was a miserable whisper. “You put the man in an impossible situation. He’s my friend—I hated deceiving him and I know I’ve damaged our friendship—but Conlan, I wasn’t going to let you get dragged away to the North Tower.”

  “What did you do?” Conlan asked.

  Eleanor seemed to s
hrink into herself, and Will could almost see her guilt and embarrassment wrapped round her in a dark cloud.

  “Eleanor drugged him,” Freddie said for her, with no small amount of amusement. “With Will’s sedative. In his stew.”

  Trust

  At Conlan’s request, they waited several days before rejoining the others, in order to give him a little time to heal to the point where he could sit, and even stand up for a short time, by himself. Will had sent Freddie and Amelia out looking for lepdrac, as his leg was still sore if he stood or walked on it for too long, and with two of them using it, his supply was dwindling. When they returned, Will distilled the flowers into as potent a tonic as he could make. As a precaution, he also added the method and a picture of the plant into his sketch pad while he waited for the tonic to brew.

  The lepdrac helped alleviate Conlan’s discomfort, especially with his broken hand. Will had not fully appreciated just how injured Conlan was or how much assistance he was needing until Eleanor told him she was worried about the amount of blood that he was still passing when he urinated. That evening Will insisted on giving Conlan a full examination. Seeing for the first time the extent of the bruising around his kidneys, he prescribed more fluids and as many Carsem berries as the patient could eat, hoping they would have a similar effect to cranberries, to which they bore a close resemblance. If nothing else, at least it would be fresh, healthy food. They had all noticed how little Conlan seemed to be eating.

  “We need to go back to the others tomorrow,” Conlan said, turning his head, trying to hide the twist of pain on his face when Will gently lifted his shattered hand. Closely examining the swelling, working around the heavy metal shackles Conlan still wore at his wrists, Will tried to figure out if the bandages were too tight. He was not really listening and gave a non-committal grunt.

  “I feel much better, and if we leave them too long they may decide we’re not coming back,” Conlan added.

  “I’m going to have to reset this hand,” Will said, reaching for fresh material strips he used for bandages, and wooden splints that Freddie had painstakingly fashioned for the purpose when Will had said it might need to be done.