She smiled gently. "I don't think I could even if I wanted to and I don't want to," she replied and was stunned to realize she meant it. Although she'd never wanted hearth and home, never wanted just one man to warm her bed, to pleasure her with his body, she found that was exactly what she wanted with Glade Aeolian.
And it was something she knew she'd fight to the death to make happen.
Chapter Seven
For three more days it rained constantly, barely letting up at all. Tempers were short inside the inn and the Akkadian Rangers stumbled from one brawl to the next with one another. Noses were broken, jaws were busted, eyes blackened and teeth knocked out but Captain Fontenelle was always careful to keep the mayhem at a minimum. Unfortunately, he could not do the same for the inn. Many pieces of furniture were broken or damaged beyond repair and the costs were mounting as the frustrations of being cooped up piled one upon the other.
Keeping entirely to themselves, Lauryl and Glade spent the time playing cards or reading--having borrowed as many books as they could from the innkeeper. They took their meals in their rooms and at night went down to share a bath. Twice daily the butcher brought fresh Sustenance to Glade and at least once a day the Faolchúnna risked drowning in the deluge to go check on the wooly--which was not happy to be apart from its master. At night, they satisfied one another in the only ways they could that would not bring about a stringent reckoning for the Prince.
"I can't remember when it has ever rained like this," the innkeeper declared when he brought the evening's meal to the young couple. "Sometimes I fear we are all going to float away."
"Five days without letup does seem like an awful long time for the desert rainy season," Glade said.
"The roads are a shambles," the innkeeper complained. "The river is nearing its flood stage, already lapping over its banks and most of the town is waterlogged. Now, the sewers are backing up and I fear disease will beset us."
"Have you heard of any deaths associated with the storm?" Glade inquired.
"There have been a few farmers struck by lightning," the innkeeper replied. "At least six people have drowned. One family died during the night when their cottage collapsed atop them."
"What can we do?" Glade asked and felt Lauryl's surprised gaze settle on him.
"We need strong backs to fill and stack sandbags along the levee," the innkeeper told him. "But we can not expect visitors to our town…"
"Have you asked the Akkadians to help?" Lauryl questioned.
The innkeeper--who had yet to tell them his name--shook his head. "Nay, Milady. I don't think Captain Fontanelle…"
"I'll ask them," Glade said and got out of his chair.
Lauryl frowned. "Do you think that wise?"
"They can earn their keep and help pay for all the mischief and damage they've wrecked on the inn," Glade stated as he tucked his shirt into his pants. "This is their country and they are honor-bound to protect it not only in war but in peacetime."
"Aye, but still ...." Lauryl said, not sure the Akkadians would be accommodating and especially not to a Faolchúnna although--truth be told--they would have been even less accommodating with her now that they knew what she was.
"It would be a blessing if we could get some help," the innkeeper said. "The townspeople are at the end of their strength and resources, I'm afraid."
"I'll see what I can do," Glade said and went to the door. He strode out ahead of the innkeeper, leaving Lauryl to stand by the fireplace to nibble nervously at her bottom lip.
Reese Fontanelle's jaw tightened when he saw the Faolchúnna coming down the stairs with the innkeeper. Since he had returned just a few minutes before after remanding two of his men to the local jail for trying to kill one another, the Akkadian captain was in no mood to be lectured about the misconduct of his troops and that was what he thought was coming.
"I'd like a word with you, Captain," Glade said as he strode up to Reese.
"The men are behind bars and I've let the rest of them know that the next one who throws a punch will be flogged so I don't need your interference, Prince Glade," Reese grumbled, barely remembering to show respect for a member of the royalty.
"I would never presume to tell you how to discipline your men, Captain," Glade stated.
The Akkadian's eyes narrowed. "Then what do you want?"
Glade crossed his arms over his chest. "The innkeeper has given me some very disturbing information. It seems the river is close to flooding its banks." He locked gazes with the Akkadian. "Should that happen there will be widespread destruction of the huts along the river and a potential for massive loss of life. The floodwaters will reach into Nonika to undermine the foundations of the buildings here. Buildings could collapse, people and animals could be swept into the raging waters, and the entire town will be cut off from the rest of Akkadia."
Reese scratched at his jaw, worry replacing the resentment in his gaze. "Not a happy scenario, is it?"
"We both know if any of that happens there could be a widespread epidemic of cholera and that will be worse yet," Glade stated. "The people of Nonika need your help."
"To shore up the levees," Reese surmised and at Glade's nod, he drew in a long breath then exhaled slowly. "Well that's one way to work the meanness out of my men and give them something to occupy their hands other than pummeling one another."
"If you could spare half your men, I could use them to help clear the sewers," Glade suggested.
"You?" Reese asked, blinking. "A royal Prince unclogging a sewer?"
"It's got to be done and I'd just as soon not have to dig sand," Glade replied then grinned. "Although playing around in other people's shit isn't how I really want to spend my day, either."
"Rather play around in your own?" Reese challenged.
"I've been known to do some rather bizarre things on occasion but that ain't one of them," Glade answered.
Reese chuckled. "Haven't we all?"
Glade unfolded his arms and held out his hand. "What do you say? Think we can work along side one another?"
"I believe so," Reese responded. He clapped his hand around Glade's wrist in the time-honored way of warriors. "What of your woman?"
"I've not asked her but knowing Lauryl, she won't be content to stay here while others are having all the fun," Glade told him. "Mayhap she can start evacuating those closest to the danger zone, bring them into the city."
"We've tents out in the stable," Reese said. "We could pitch them on higher ground and put evacuees there. It might get a bit crowded but it's better than floating down the river atop a plank of wood."
"Sounds like a plan," Glade agreed. "I'll go fetch Lauryl and get the ball rolling."
Lauryl was not a happy camper as she and her horse plodded through the rain going hut to hut to inform the residents they needed to leave their homes and move to higher ground until the threat of flooding was over. Few people voluntarily agreed to evacuate until she showed them the tat on her right arm, threatening and bullying them into leaving whether they wanted to go or not.
Not that she blamed them, she thought as she neared the last hut on the list the innkeeper had given her. All the people owned were in those shabby dwellings and they could take precious little with them into Nonika. Their livelihoods, their very existence was wrapped up in the mud and wattle buildings and it took every ounce of intimidation and glowering in her arsenal to make them leave--even upon learning she was an infamous Hell Hag and a warrioress not to be denied.
Tired and soaked through to the skin, sneezing too often and too hard for her not to have caught a cold, she reined in at the hut and sat there staring at the dark abode. No light showed at the windows and the place had an abandoned air about it though she had a feeling there were occupants inside.
"Hello in the cottage!" she called out. When she received no answer, she frowned and flung a leg over her mount's head, sliding down to land with both feet up to the ankle in mud.
Shaking the muck from her boots with a vicious curse
, she put a hand to the hilt of her sword and drew it, keeping an eye on the front door. Her fingers flexed around the grip.
"I am here from Nonika," she said. "You are bidden to evacuate to town until…"
"Get the fuck off my property, Hag!" a gruff voice snarled from inside the cottage. "I ain't going nowheres!"
Her ire riding her shoulders like a cold, wet scarf, Lauryl ground her teeth. "Suit yourself. Drown for all I give a rat's pecker," she said.
It was the rush of sound that caught her attention and she spun, bringing her sword up to meet the downward slice of a burly bastard whose reeking body odor almost knocked her unconscious as she got a good whiff of him. The blade edges met with a loud clang--the brutal vibration snaking down her wrist all the way to her shoulder--and she looked into the crazed eyes of a man at least a full foot taller than herself, bearing a good four hundred pounds of solid muscle.
"Fucking Hell Hag!" the bastard sneered, spittle flying from a mouth riddled with broken, decayed teeth.
She sensed--rather than heard--the second attack that came at her back and managed to pivot out of the way of another slashing blade. The newcomer staggered against the giant with a grunt before both men whirled to face her with rage glittering in their almond-shaped eyes.
Only marginally smaller than the first man, the second was obviously the giant's kin, most likely his younger brother. Their facial features were broad with flattened noses beneath thick dark unibrows crawling across their downward sloped foreheads and small mouths with protruding tongues. He bore the same nauseous odor as the first man.
"You ain't got no authority over us!" the first man bellowed and lashed out with his blade, driving Lauryl back toward her horse. She barely had time to jump aside before the giant ran at her, nicking the hapless mount in the ass as he passed.
With a squeal of protest, the horse reared up with hooves flashing then came down with a resounding crash before spinning like a top and taking off as though it had been goosed. Seeing her mount thundering away, leaving her stranded with the two maniacs now circling her with sickly grins on their small mouths, Lauryl let out a particularly vulgar curse.
"What the fuck's the matter with you two assholes?" she spat at them.
"You ain't getting our stash!" the second man shouted and took a wild swing at her with more force than expertise in the movement.
Having no idea what he meant, the only thing Lauryl cared about was surviving her encounter with the two butt-ugly pricks and putting each out of his misery with a quick gutting.
But that wasn't to be. Between the two of them, they proved to be formidable opponents who slashed and hacked at her with vicious glee. It took her nearly forty minutes to dispatch the sons of bitches and by the end of that time she was covered with mud, reeking of their blood, and so tired she could barely put one foot ahead of the other. She was bent over with her bloody sword still clasped in her hand--dragging in great gasps of air--when Reese and two of his men rode up with her steed in tow.
Reese dismounted before his horse came to a full stop and ran over to her. "Are you all right?" he questioned. He put a hand lightly on her back. "Are you hurt?"
"Gods-be-damned bastards have something they didn't want found," she managed to tell him, panting in between each word.
"Search the cottage," Reese ordered his men. He cast a quick glance over the dead men--their spilled guts steaming in the late afternoon sun and asked her again if she was hurt.
"Nay," she said and wavered, would have fallen had Reese not grabbed her.
The last thing she remembered as he swung her up into his arms was the look of admiration on his handsome tanned face.
* * * * *
"They were trafficking in stolen goods apparently brought down the river to them from their suppliers," Reese told Glade later that day. "I suppose they thought she was there to claim the bounty on them."
Glade put a hand to the savage headache that had begun plaguing him again while he and the men the Akkadian had assigned to help him were clearing away the built up muck in the sewer system earlier. He was chilled to the bone--shivering now and again--and so nauseous the smell of the evening meal cooking was a particular torment to him. Adding to that was the sheer terror that had gripped him when he'd seen Reese riding into town with an unconscious Lauryl cradled in his arms.
"Thank you for bringing her home," he told Reese.
"I don't think I've ever been more afraid than when that horse of hers came galloping toward us rider less. All I saw was the blood on its flanks and thought it was hers," the Akkadian captain said.
The two men were sitting together in the common room while Lauryl took her evening bath, washing the caked mud from her hair and body. There wasn't a scratch on her but Glade had insisted on inspecting every inch of her to make sure before he was satisfied and left her--as she asked--alone with her bath and her thoughts.
"She deals death like life means nothing to her. She filleted those bastards as cleanly as any butcher would have," Reese commented. "I don't think I could ever get used to that in a woman."
"It was the way she was raised," Glade reminded the other man.
"I suppose," Reese mumbled then took a long sip of his ale. He wiped his mouth on the back of his arm and gave Glade a steady look. "Do you have another migraine?"
"I'm beginning to think it's something else," Glade said. "I'm so gods-be-damned cold I feel like I'm sitting in an Outer Kingdom igloo with my bare ass hanging out in a fucking blizzard."
"Yet you're sweating like a pig," his table partner remarked, his attention roaming over Glade's face. "You're flushed. I'm not a Healer but I'd say you've got a high fever." He reached out to lay the back of his hand on Glade's forehead. "I'm right. You do."
"I think I'm going to go on up to bed," Glade said. He stood, felt the room tilt dangerously around him and had to grab the back of his chair to steady himself.
"You need help getting upstairs?" Reese asked, his brows drawn together with obvious concern.
"Nay, I'll be all right. I just got up too quickly," Glade said. "Watch after my lady for me."
"I will. You want me to have them bring your supper up?"
"Nay!" Glade ground out, the thought making the gorge rise up in his throat. "I just need to sleep this shit--whatever it is--off."
All the way up the stairs, Glade felt his body trembling as with the ague. His head was an agony that pounded fiercely with each step he took. Teeth chattering, sweat pouring off him in waves, he was gasping for air by the time he reached the landing. He took two more steps, his eyes rolled up in his head and then pitched forward into red hot darkness.
* * * * *
"What's wrong with him?" she demanded of the Healer one of Reese's men had ridden to Marrupa to bring back.
"It is a virus that has affected his respiratory system." the Healer diagnosed. "His lungs are filled with liquid."
"But how did this happen? Where could he have gotten a virus?"
"It is caused by rodents," the Healer said.
"Rodents?" she gasped, her eyes widening, her face turning pale.
"It is not the plague," the Healer was quick to tell her. "And he is not contagious."
"But how could he have contracted such an illness?"
"From breathing in the dust and droppings from their nests," the Healer explained. "The infection would have occurred several weeks before the symptoms manifested themselves."
"Blaithmoor," she stated, her jaw tight, eyes filled with hatred. "He was in the dungeon at that hellish place for over six weeks."
"Then that is surely where he contracted it."
"But other than a headache and a bout of nausea, he seemed all right after a few days away from that hellhole," she protested.
"There would have been a time when he felt well but then the symptoms began again with a vengeance and now the full thrust of the disease is upon him," the Healer told her. "If he were human, he would not survive this for the end result of infection
is the shutting down of the kidneys. Thankfully the virus has a different effect on his kind. With him, he will only wish he could succumb to it."
"What can I do? How do we treat him?" she asked.
"There is no known cure. You are doing all you can."
Lauryl sat at Glade's bedside all night long as he tossed and turned, hallucinations coming and going like wisps of fog on the wind. He cried out in agony, fought the restraints that had been tied securely around his limbs to keep him from hurting himself while she tried to soothe him, bathing his face and chest to bring the fever down, drizzling water down his parched throat as a dry cough wracked his body. He vomited until there was nothing but bile to dredge up from his weakening body and still he gagged until he could barely lift his head from the pillow. The headache that squeezed at his temples made him cry like a baby from the brutal pain and all she could do was stroke his forehead and croon softly to him to ease him back into restless slumber.
"You will need to feed him Sustenance sparingly and he will most likely bring it back up but hopefully some of the nourishment will stay with him," the Healer had stressed.
Tirelessly she cared for him, never leaving his side as night lingered into day and day crawled slowly into late afternoon and then ticked away into the night of the second day with her charge no better--yet no worse--and unaware she was nursing him. She took her meager meals in their room and split her time between trying to soothe him and staring out at the damnable rain that continued to lash the windows.
Reese and the innkeeper were their only visitors and neither stayed long at a time.
Dozing in the chair beside the bed, Lauryl heard a loud commotion below stairs and the running of booted feet up the stairs. Moving like lightning though she was so tired every muscle in her body protested the action, she snatched up her sword and turned to face the door just as it burst open, banging back against the wall so hard a hinge snapped off.
Angry shouts closely followed the entrance of the three men who barged into the room and the thunder of more feet climbing the stairs, the rattle of blades, and the curses of Akkadian Rangers primed for a fight brought a grim smile to Lauryl's lips.
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