Witches With the Enemy

by Barb Hendee

  He gripped her waist and lifted her up into the sidesaddle. “Damek will set a fast pace. Just hold on and let Sable follow my horse.”

  Amelie was already up on her black gelding, gripping the reins.

  “Open the portcullis!” Damek called.

  Anton grasped the reins of Whisper’s bridle and swung up. Once again, he felt swept along on a tide he couldn’t stop, and he had no idea how the rest of this night would play out.

  Chapter Nine

  Once outside the gate and on the dark road bordered by trees, Céline wondered why Anton hadn’t pressed to be allowed to bring any of his own men. He hadn’t even asked. Perhaps he felt that at heart, this search belonged to Heath and Damek, and that he was a mere appendage. He was most likely in no danger from his brother, who was focused on retrieving a lost bride. Still, Jaromir would have a fit if he ever found out Anton had ridden alone into the night with Damek, Kochè, and five Kimovesk guards.

  As the pace of the horses increased from a canter to a gallop, she soon found herself gripping Sable’s mane and trying to keep her seat. She hoped Amelie wasn’t having too much trouble, and she wondered how some of these men would fare if they were forced to ride sidesaddle.

  Beneath her cloak, she still wore the rose-colored satin evening gown.

  Within a few moments, she was tempted to throw her leg over, grip with her knees, and let her skirts fly as they would.

  She was just about to try this when Damek called, “Halt!”

  He pulled his horse up abruptly and mild chaos ensued as everyone attempted to follow suit. They hadn’t traveled far from the castle.

  “What are you doing?” Heath asked, trying to hold in his mount.

  Damek ignored him and waved a hand at the Kimovesk guards. “Start searching the sides of the road for signs where they might have entered the forest.”

  Heath rode up beside him angrily. “No. Searching the forest is a waste of time.”

  By the moonlight, Damek’s eyes flashed as he wheeled his horse, but before he could speak, Anton spoke.

  “Why is it a waste of time?”

  “Because they won’t be there,” Heath answered. “Most people understand that my sister is delicate, but Maddox sees her as fragile porcelain. He would never even consider allowing her to sleep outdoors in the forest.”

  Damek went still, listening now. “Then where would he take her?”

  “With Rochelle in tow, he knows he can’t outrun a pursuit, so he’ll opt for holing up and hiding her somewhere in at least adequate comfort. Most likely, he’ll head for a large outlying village or town, someplace where he might find shelter and be able to disappear. He’ll remain out of sight for a few days, possibly longer. He’ll keep her there until he believes the search is waning, and then he’ll try to slip away.”

  Céline absorbed this and glanced at Amelie. Everything he said made sense . . . but what if he was wrong?

  “I do not know this area well,” Heath continued, “and neither does Maddox. He would need information . . . directions to someplace both large enough for his needs and yet out of the way.” He paused. “We should ride into Kimovesk Village and ask the people there if Maddox and Rochelle rode through, and if they spoke to anyone.”

  Slowly, Damek nodded. “Yes . . . good.”

  Anton grimaced almost imperceptibly

  With a lurch in her stomach Céline wondered what methods Damek might employ to ask the Kimovesk peasants if they’d seen or spoken to anyone.

  As the horses around her broke into a trot, Céline looked back at her sister. “Amelie, throw your leg over the saddle.”

  Holding Sable’s reins, Céline followed her own advice. There was no stirrup on the right side, but it didn’t matter. She could grip much better with her knees.

  The horses moved from a trot to a canter to a gallop in a matter of seconds, and again, Céline focused on nothing except holding on. The village soon loomed before them, and her worst fears were realized.

  Damek thundered down the main path, shouting orders. Both Kimovesk and Väränj guards began leaping off horses, kicking doors open, and dragging people into the open.

  Sable was breathing hard as Céline drew her up, and then Amelie’s gelding was beside them.

  “Oh, Céline,” Amelie said in despair, watching the scene before them.

  Dozens of bone-thin people in tattered clothes had been dragged or pushed out into the night at sword point. The whites of their eyes showed as they stumbled into the muddy main path between dwellings. Anton didn’t try to interfere. There was nothing he could do.

  A large number of people must still be huddling in their homes in the dwellings farther on, but Damek seemed satisfied with the few dozen kneeling before him.

  Still on his horse, he called out. “Those of you in hiding! Listen to me! A man on a roan horse and a lady on a white mare rode through here in the late afternoon. The man would have spoken to someone and asked for information. I need only to know to whom he spoke.”

  Soft gasps sounded from the peasants on the ground, and Céline longed to be somewhere else, anywhere else. She had witnessed . . . she had lived through too many scenes like this one.

  “Someone spoke to this man,” Heath called out. “Who was it?”

  An aged woman on her knees near Damek looked up at him. “My lord . . . the man and the woman did pass through, but they did not speak to anyone.”

  Damek jumped down off his horse and drew the dagger from its sheath on his hip. He pointed to a boy, perhaps twelve years old, kneeling in the mud beside the old woman.

  “Bring that one,” he ordered a guard.

  Céline closed her eyes, but that proved a mistake, as she was instantly drawn into a memory she kept pushed down in the back of her mind. . . .

  She was nine years old, living in Shetâna with her family. Her mother was the village apothecary and her father was a hunter—a good one. This was before Damek had been placed in charge of the province, but his predecessor, a vassal of Prince Lieven’s, had been no better. Soldiers had free run of the villages, and the people feared them.

  One day, three Kimovesk soldiers rode into Shetâna and began taking whatever they wanted. Céline knew they weren’t collecting taxes, just taking things for themselves, probably to sell. One of them ordered a farmer to turn over all twenty of his goats. This would have left the man to starve, and he refused. Céline remembered when the shouting started, and she saw the farmer take a swing at the soldier. All three soldiers attacked the farmer, and Céline’s father ran to help.

  He shoved one soldier away, and as he was turning to push off another, the man drew a dagger and rammed it through Céline’s father’s stomach. She didn’t scream. She stood there frozen and watched him die . . . over helping a farmer try to save twenty goats.

  He’d failed.

  The soldiers took the goats, and they stepped over her father’s body as if it were rubbish lying on the ground. They’d probably forgotten him by the time they reached the edge of the village.

  “Someone here spoke to this man.” Damek’s voice cut through her memory. “Who was it? Tell us, and we will leave.”

  She opened her eyes. Though he still held the dagger, he didn’t seem intent on using it. Two Kimovesk guards held the boy between them. The boy panted in wild fear, and the old woman on the ground bowed her head, groveling.

  “Please, my lord! They spoke to no one!”

  Damek looked at one of the guards holding the boy. “Cut off his right hand.”

  Céline cast a desperate look at Anton. His whole body was taut, but he stayed on his horse and said nothing.

  “Close your eyes again,” Amelie warned.

  The boy screamed as his arm was jerked forward and held out.

  “Stop this!” someone called.

  A young woman about Amelie’s age walked dow
n the path toward them. Her clothes were as tattered as everyone else’s, but her back was straight.

  “I spoke to the man you seek,” she said. “Let the boy go, and ask me your questions.”

  She walked right toward Damek and stopped about ten paces away. True courage was rare in a place like this, and Céline hope the young woman would not suffer for it.

  Heath was still mounted, and he spoke first. “What did the man ask you?”

  “He asked the name and direction of the largest town within half a day’s riding distance.” Her voice was clear.

  Heath appeared so grateful that he lowered his voice. “And what town did you name?”

  “Chekalin, to the north.”

  Turning quickly to Damek, Heath asked, “You know this place?”

  Damek didn’t answer him and studied the young woman. He’d not seen the boy’s hand cut off, and he still wanted blood. Céline’s stomach lurched again, but Heath seemed to see the danger as well and urged his horse between Damek and the young woman. “We have no time for this. Do you know the town?”

  “Of course I know it,” Damek bit off. “It’s in my province.”

  “Then you lead.”

  Reluctantly, Damek turned, sheathed his dagger, and remounted his horse.

  Céline looked down to see her hands shaking. After living most of her life in Shetâna, and then finding a safe haven in Sèone, she’d thought herself beyond sorrow or fear-induced flashbacks. She was wrong.

  * * *

  Halfway to the middle of night, Amelie heard one of the guards say they were approaching Chekalin. It had been a long, hard ride, and she was angry with herself over how much her current discomforts bothered her.

  For one, she was hungry. After what she’d witnessed back in Kimovesk Village, she should not have the slightest interest in food, but she hadn’t eaten much all day, and for the second night in a row dinner hadn’t been served in the castle. Last night, Lord Hamish had died, and tonight, the meal had been forgone because of the news of Rochelle’s abduction.

  Both of these events were tragic . . . and yet Amelie could not ignore her hunger pangs.

  Worse was the pain she felt from the skin on the inside of her legs. Céline had not been wrong to suggest riding straddle. At the fast pace they rode, gripping with their knees was the only option. At first, this had been a relief. A few hours later, Amelie’s skin felt as if it had been rubbed raw.

  Stupid dinner gown.

  The dress offered no protection, and once again, she longed for her pants.

  On the edge of town, the horses slowed. A wall of wooden logs surrounded Chekalin. There were two entrances within sight. As the wall would clearly not withstand any sort of serious assault and there were no watchmen on the entrances, Amelie assumed the wall’s intent was merely to help channel incoming traffic to the main streets.

  Heath rode up to the front of the contingent.

  “Prince though you may be,” he said to Damek, “this place is much too large for you to ride in and start torturing people. We might conceive a different strategy.”

  Amelie almost couldn’t believe the change in Heath. He was panicked over his sister’s disappearance, and it seemed to bring out the best and worst in him. While he was certainly more commanding than she ever could have imagined, his manner bordered on insulting.

  Céline sat silently on her horse, and Amelie glanced at her in concern. Her expression had been queer, almost ill, since leaving Kimovesk. Amelie wanted to ask if she was all right, but then what could Céline possibly say? It didn’t matter whether she was all right or not. They were in the middle of this now.

  “And what do you suggest?” Damek asked Heath.

  Amelie found his contempt unfounded. Without Heath, they’d probably still be searching the forests around Kimovesk.

  Anton rode up to the front, keeping his voice low. “I think we should keep our arrival quiet, brother. If Maddox gets wind of us, he might take Rochelle and run.”

  At this, Damek’s tight expression eased slightly, and he studied Anton. Then he nodded.

  “How comfortable would Maddox wish to make her?” Anton asked Heath. “Would he risk taking her to an inn?”

  “Possibly,” Heath answered. “Though he is a most able soldier, he has a tendency to overestimate himself. If he and Rochelle are here, he probably views himself as safe . . . leagues away from our search.”

  “What do you mean if they’re here?” Damek asked.

  “I mean that we are following well-reasoned speculation and the word of a peasant girl. Nothing is certain.”

  The skin over Damek’s cheeks tightened again.

  “I suggest we split into two groups,” Anton said, “and conduct a quiet search. Damek and I will take the west side of town. Heath, you take the east. We’ll speak to every innkeeper and every tavern owner with a room to rent. I have some coin with me, and we can pay bribes if we must. Someone will have seen them or given them sanctuary.”

  Heath nodded at Anton’s sensible counsel. “Yes, I have coin with me as well.”

  “I’ll keep Céline with me,” Anton continued. “You take Miss Amelie in case you find Rochelle first. Amelie can offer her comfort.”

  Mild surprise, followed by pleasure, passed across Heath’s face. “It would be my honor.”

  Amelie found that a tad formal, all things considered, but she urged her black gelding toward his tall horse.

  “We’ll enter first,” Heath said to Anton. “Give us a few moments before you follow.”

  With that, Amelie rode into Chekalin beside him, with five Väränj guards following. It bothered her to leave Céline, but Amelie understood why Céline had wanted to come, and at this point, the sisters had no choice but to split up.

  They entered what appeared to be an open-air market that had been closed for the night with all the stalls covered. At this late hour, the town was quiet.

  “We’ll probably have to wake a few innkeepers from their sleep,” she commented.

  Heath turned east, and they rode down a well-maintained street past a row of neatly painted shops. As this town was in Damek’s territory, Amelie hadn’t expected it to look quite so prosperous—as most of his people were taxed near to death. Perhaps he’d overlooked it?

  Amelie herself had no problem with taxes. She and Céline paid taxes in Sèone, but Anton never overtaxed his people, and he always used the money for things like maintaining bridges, for helping the poor, for paying guards who actually guarded his people, and so on. He’d even funded a few small schools. She had no idea what Damek did with the taxes that Captain Kochè collected with such vigor.

  “Up there,” Heath said, pointing.

  Following to where he pointed, she saw a whitewashed two-story building with vines growing up a fenced porch.

  Upon reaching the building, Heath dismounted. Without waiting to be asked, Amelie climbed down as well, but he offered no objection. The skin on the inside her legs felt on fire, and she tried not to wince.

  “Stay out here,” Heath ordered his men.

  Amelie and Heath walked five steps up to the ivy-covered porch, and in the shadows of the front door, he stopped her with his hand.

  “You do . . . ,” he said quietly. “You do believe Rochelle was abducted, don’t you? It matters to me what you think.”

  Why should he care what she thought? But she nodded to him. “Yes. I wouldn’t blame any woman for trying to escape marriage to Damek, but I don’t believe Rochelle would run off with Captain Maddox. She cares for your family far too much.”

  “Thank you.” He didn’t move. “And I know this is hardly the time, but I wanted to thank you for this afternoon, for staying in the hall and comforting my sisters with games and stories the way you did.”

  “Oh . . . you’re welcome.”

  After this, she expected him to
enter the inn, but still, he hesitated. “It’s been a long time since Rochelle, Lizbeth, and I all played together like that, and I have you to thank. I’m not comfortable speaking to most people, but I find myself at ease with you.”

  Amelie tensed. Was he about to express interest in her? She wasn’t sure. Most men who met the sisters followed Céline with their eyes—but few men ever looked at Amelie. She had no idea how to properly respond and cut him off before he said something he might regret later.

  Quickly, she took a step away from him. “Baron, we should go inside and wake the innkeeper.”

  He flinched, as if hurt, and then recovered. “Of course. I only wished to thank you for this afternoon.”

  Turning away, he opened the door, and they stepped inside. The foyer was dark, but some light from the outer streetlamps came in through the windows. There was no counter, but a long table stood in front of a closed door.

  “Hello?” Heath called. “Is anyone here?”

  A moment later, shuffling sounded behind the door, and a stocky man with a shiny head emerged, pulling a robe around his shoulders with one hand and carrying a lantern in the other.

  He squinted at the pair of them and smiled sleepily. “Riding in so late? Do you need a room?”

  Amelie wondered how this should be handled, and she let Heath take the lead.

  “Yes and no,” Heath answered. “My wife and I had arranged to meet my sister, along with our family’s bodyguard, in this town, but I fear there was a miscommunication regarding the name of the inn. Do you have a lovely woman with my coloring, and a tall dour man with dark hair hereabout somewhere?” He smiled back.

  Amelie was astonished at the ease with which he lied, but she much preferred his method of questioning to Damek’s.

  “Sorry, lad,” the man answered. “I’ve only two guests here now, and both are older men, merchants, I think. But at this hour, you’d probably do better to stay here and find your sister in the morning.”

  “No doubt you’re right,” Heath answered. “But we’d like to try a few more places.”

  “Good luck to you,” the man said, turning away to go back to bed.