Flame of Fury

by Sharon Green

  Rianne nodded as she looked down at her hand, having completely forgotten about the ring. She hadn't wanted to be shadowed by even a pretend husband in her new life in the colonies, and now here she was, wearing the ring of a man she didn't even like. It was stupidly mindless, but the slip could be taken care of easily enough. She reached toward the ring with the intention of removing it -

  "Well, hain't it nice'n cozy in 'ere," a gruff voice said, immediately drawing Rianne's attention. "Better'n what we was gi'en."

  A chorus of agreement came from the men behind the first, the sort that encourages and eggs someone on. The speaker was a dirty lout in old and well-worn homespun, with worn-out boots and a strip of leather for a belt. He had a full beard that looked like it had strained his food for decades, an unappetizing substitute for what his receding hairline had lost. Two of the men behind him also had full beards, while the other two were obviously trying to grow them. The four followers were a good deal younger than their leader - who also wore a sword.

  "Get out of here," Angus ordered in a flat-voiced way, nothing but arrogant confidence showing. "If we feel the need to have riffraff around us, we'll be sure to send for you."

  "Hain't no need," the spokesman said, even while some of his followers looked ready to obey Angus. "We's aready 'ere. Gold's whut we want, an' it's whut we'll 'ave. An' sum visitin' wiv yon chicky. Give it 'ere, else we'll take yer life 'long wiv it. An' keep th' chicky."

  He showed heavy yellow teeth in a grin that let them know how much fun he was having. This was a man who enjoyed terrorizing people and hurting them, a man who attracted weaklings as followers so they might share in cruelty by proxy. Rianne's pulse had begun to thud when the men first appeared, but now a coldness rose inside to still all fear. What she felt was disgust and fury, a fury that was quickly growing beyond her control.

  "'Keep the chicky,'" she mimicked as she rose, pushing her chair back with one booted foot. "You couldn't keep quiet if you were mute. Go find a rabbit to frighten, you slime. No one here is impressed."

  "Ree, wait for Cam!" Angus hissed low, trying to put a hand on her arm. "You can't face five of them by yourself!"

  "They're probably the reason Cam isn't in here yet," she countered, pulling her arm free as the fury rose even higher. "If they've harmed him I'll kill them all, so help me God, I'll - "

  "Slut!" the balding man spat, his eyes narrowed to slits as he foamed over what Rianne had said to him. "Ye thinks wearin' a blade's good enow t' send men a-scurryin'. Well, this 'ere man don' scurry fer no slut. Better get t' beggin', y'quean…"

  After calling her a whore he stepped forward and began to haul out his sword, which was all Rianne needed to see. No one who really knew how to use a blade drew that sloppily. He'd accused her of wearing a sword just for show, but that's what he'd been doing. So few members of the lower classes had blade skill that he'd probably never before been challenged.

  But that was about to change. Rianne drew smoothly as she moved away from the table, and then she went en garde. The peasant continued to glare as he came closer, too ignorant to recognize her stance. He faced her fully, as broad a target as it was possible to be, and then he yelled and charged. The way he held his weapon, raised well above his right shoulder, said he meant to beat her to death with it.

  Rianne flicked her weapon hard before slipping out of the way, and when the man turned to face her again his glare was filled with pain. Her point had slashed a diagonal cut left to right across his body, and blood flowed out through the ruined homespun. She felt suddenly odd seeing that, the first blood she'd ever intentionally spilled. Visions of Angus's wound rose before her, but she pushed the picture angrily away.

  "Luck, 'at's all, luck," her opponent muttered, licking dry lips behind an obvious throb of pain. He was lying to himself to bolster flagging courage, and the other men who now stood to Rianne's left seemed to know it.

  "Don't stare, ye fool, get 'er! " one of them shouted, more than brave with the other three around him. "Are ye man 'r rabbit?"

  Rianne's opponent growled wordlessly at that, the shame he felt darkening his skin. But he also obviously felt fear, which surprised her. Did everyone who terrorized others have their own hidden cache of fear?

  "If you come at me again, I'll kill you," she told the man abruptly, trying to sound as serious as the brute had in the training barracks. No threats, just promises, she remembered, but somehow it seemed easier when he did it. And more believable. Her opponent tightened his fist on his hilt even as he got a desperate grip on his courage. His sneer said he doubted she could kill anything, and then he was screaming as he raced at her again.

  Rianne knew that the purpose of screaming when you attack is to freeze your opponent with fear, to make him unable to defend himself against you, and for that reason she usually ignored all noise. But this time it wasn't one of her brothers, coming at her with a practice weapon. The man screaming like a ban-sidhe really meant her harm, and her response was more trained reflex than thought. Her swordarm leaped out and stiffened even as she shifted her weight hard forward…

  And the next instant he had impaled himself on her blade, right through the center of his chest. His forward rush, combined with her lunge… The man began to cough blood, horror in his glazing eyes. As he staggered back, Rianne let go of her sword without trying to pull it free. She hadn't really meant to kill him…!

  One hand to her mouth to keep the illness inside, Rianne watched her former opponent fall bonelessly to the floor. He still gripped his sword in his fist, tightly as though he couldn't bear to lose it. Her sword dangled from his chest, the length of it showing the very end must be poking out his back. There was absolute silence from everyone - until the dead man's followers looked at her almost as one and began to snarl. Knives appeared then, long, wicked-looking knives, and the fury in their eyes said they meant to take their vengeance.

  "Leave her alone!" Angus shouted, forcing himself to his feet. "If you try to hurt her, I'll - "

  He'd started to draw his own sword, but he moved too fast and too carelessly. His words broke off as his face went white, and he groped for the table edge to keep himself erect. Rianne could see he was close to passing out, which meant he'd been lying about how well he was doing. The last thing she wanted right then was more to do with weapons, but if those animals killed her they'd certainly kill Angus as well. She couldn't let that happen, no matter how sick she felt.

  It was only two steps to the table, and then Rianne had Angus's belt knife in her hand. She turned to the four men in the doorway, silently ordering her hand not to tremble, and she was almost successful. But she also had very little idea how one fought with a knife, aside from holding the knife out and away from one's body. Two of the four hesitated, but the one who had urged her former opponent on to his death spoke again.

  "See how she shakes," he gloated, pointing with the hand that held no knife. "Ye'll not be touchin' us wi' that, slut, leastways not held so. Nor any ways, I be thinkin'."

  And then he began to move toward her, first making certain the others joined him. Just to be on the safe side they would all attack at once, giving Rianne no real opportunity to defend herself. A pack of craven animals who weren't even her size, but who would still be able to pull her down. And after her, Angus … and Cam, if he wasn't already dead… She couldn't stand the idea of failing them… Bad enough she would die without more of - Do something, damn it!

  That silent but frantic demand brought her forward two steps, not very steadily but definitely determined. If she hurt them badly enough before they killed her, they'd probably run off and leave Angus alone. At the very least she had to try. She gathered herself for a rush just as they seemed to be doing the same.

  Suddenly the sound of a pistol shot made them all cry out in joint protest. But it certainly got everyone's attention, including Rianne's. She watched the four brutal bullies whirl around with widened eyes, and could imagine their eyes going wider still when they saw the man who had
fired the pistol. A giant with dark-red hair and cold gray eyes, followed by other men who looked almost as dangerous…

  "My next shot won't be aimed at the ceiling," the big man said, drawing a second pistol. "Who wants it?"

  The four seemed to shrink in on themselves, a clear sign that there would be no more trouble from them. Rianne simply closed her eyes, feeling as though she'd wandered into a nightmare. It shouldn't have been possible for things to get worse after your life had been saved, but that was exactly what was about to happen.

  "Get them out of here," that deep voice ordered. "I'll decide what I want done with them as soon as I take care of other business first."

  Other business, Rianne noticed he said, opening her eyes long enough to get back to her chair at the table. Angus, also seated, was trying to pull himself together, but Rianne just put her elbows to the table and her fingers to her eyes and waited.

  "So, wife, you decided to take a short trip," the deep voice said once the sound of footsteps faded away. "And you indulged in some light exercise as well. Aren't you going to introduce me to your traveling companion?"

  "I won't let you hurt him," Rianne said, discovering that she was too tired for her voice to tremble. "I don't care what you do with me, but you will not hurt him."

  "Never mind me," Angus interrupted, clearly fighting to put strength in his voice. "She's the one who won't be hurt, or so help me God, I'll - I'll - "

  His words broke off as they had once before, and Rianne uncovered her eyes to see him struggling against pain again. She started to go to him, but the brute was there first on his other side.

  "Now I know which one you are," he muttered, beginning to pull Angus's shirt out of the way. "Sit still and let me look at this… Oh, that was clever. It could have cost you your life, but it certainly was clever."

  "What is it?" Rianne asked, needing to know why Angus was so tight-lipped. "What's wrong?"

  "He covered the wound three inches thick with bandaging, then put a layer of waxed cloth over the bandages," the brute answered. "That cloth would be enough to protect a loaf of bread from a river. He's been bleeding into the bandages, but you couldn't tell because none of it got through to his clothing."

  "Angus, no!" Rianne's protest was filled with horror, but her brother wearily waved it away.

  "Rianne, yes," he contradicted. "We couldn't wait around until my wound healed, and you know it. All I wish is that we hadn't stopped here."

  "If you hadn't stopped here, you probably would have died," the brute told him bluntly with disgust in his voice. "And all to satisfy the imagined needs of a willful girl. Boys follow along with stars in their eyes; men must learn to be more practical."

  "If being practical means abandoning my sister, I'd rather be a boy for the rest of my life." Angus's statement had very little strength behind it, but there was no doubt that he meant every word. "And if her needs are imaginary, then you won't mind giving your solemn word that no harm will come to her. She's headstrong and sometimes foolish, but doesn't deserve to be hurt."

  "Sister, eh? " the brute mused with an odd expression, then shook his head. "I'm sorry, boy, but I can't give my word about her and harm. If I'm there I'll do my damnedest to prevent it, but she could make a habit of trying to see I'm not there. What I will do is give my word to see if the habit can be broken…"

  By then the gray ice was looking directly at her, the way his words trailed off making Rianne feel very uncomfortable. She thought about the possibility of his killing her, then mentally shook her head. No, there was very little chance she would be that lucky.

  "What - what about our driver?" Angus asked as the brute straightened away from him. "There's a chance those thieves did something to him before coming in here."

  "The third of your number is just fine," the brute answered, pausing on his way out of the room. "He tried to reach a bow when he saw us, but pistols tend to discourage moves like that. Two of my men have him outside, but they'll soon he bringing him in."

  And then he stalked out of the room. Rianne exchanged a glance with Angus, but neither of them could feel much relief. Cam was all right, but only for the moment. Angus had tried to shield him by calling him their driver, but the brute had known the truth. He had all of them now, and God alone knew what he would do. Rianne closed her eyes again and tried not to think about it. There were so many things not to think about…

  Bryan passed through the archway into the common room, ignoring the nervous housekeep who hovered near his counter. He and his men had had a long, hard ride, and now they would have the ride back. Or some of them would.

  "Jake," he said, and the lanky man appeared beside him. "Get Furnan in to take care of that boy. He's the one I wounded two days ago, and I don't want him dead. Get rooms for them and two of our men, as well as the boy we have outside. Tomorrow a litter can be slung in the coach, to give the wounded boy protection against the jouncing. That way they can bring him and other one back."

  "An' them four motherless sons?" Jake asked, nodding toward the four toughs who moved nervously under the eyes of his men. Everyone else in the common room was motionless and silent, trying very hard not to be noticed.

  "Have three men take them and their late leader to the local authorities," Bryan answered. "Make sure the authorities are told they tried to rob the wrong people - and I'll be checking back to see what's done with them. If for some reason they're simply set free, I'll have to mention the fact to some of my friends. They'll be the ones who find out why."

  "They won't like hearin' that, 'specially if they been turnin' a blind eye," Jake said with a grin. "Like as not them four'll end up hanged pretty quick, just to make a end to it. Do we mention it were th' lady who done for th' dead 'un?"

  "Not unless someone else mentions it first," Bryan decided. "If they do, have the men stress that it was my wife who had to be bothered with defending herself and her possessions. After that let them say how annoyed I am that the poor little thing had to make the effort, and how much I'd like to make an effort of my own. Make sure they use those exact words: 'poor little thing.'"

  "You tryin' t' make 'em wet theirselves?" Jake asked with a chuckle. "Or just make sure they don't want nothin' t' do with you? Second's a sure thing, first's a damn good bet. I'll get it all movin'."

  He gestured to others of the men, then joined them to pass on Bryan's orders. It was so much easier dealing with men, Bryan thought. They didn't take personal offense at the idea of obeying him, and when they were told to do something they just did it. No arguments, no "better" ideas of their own, no picking up and taking off without warning…

  Furnan was already making his way toward the private dining area, so Bryan followed along to watch. That boy his wife was so concerned about - Bryan had started out the ride on Rianne's trail furious, but after a while the fury had changed to worry. And heart-hurt. It had occurred to him that Rianne was running away with the help of two men; what if she and one of them were in love? Could that be the real reason she'd resisted him like that, the reason she'd ignored his every attempt to get closer to her?

  At that point he'd nearly turned back, and now he felt an inner shudder at what would have happened if he had. What had kept him going was the determination to find out for certain, to hear the words from her own lips. When she and the boy had each offered themselves in payment for the safety of the other, Bryan had been certain his worst fears were justified. He'd been lower than ever before in his life - and then the boy had called her his "sister…"

  It now began to occur to Bryan to wonder at that. Surely if Rianne had a brother, Robert Harding would have mentioned it. Bryan leaned against the side of the arch and watched his man tend to this "brother" of Rianne's. Furnan, though without official recognition, was a better physician than most who had the name. As he leaned over his patient the boy Angus clenched his fist, plainly determined not to cry out. That meant he believed in controlling what he said and did, acting as a particular situation called for rather
than simply reacting.

  With that in mind it wasn't strange he'd been so quick to mention that he considered the girl his sister. He'd wanted Bryan to know the exact relationship between them, understanding that the girl wasn't likely to explain it herself. The boy considered her a sister, and the youngster outside was another brother.

  Great, Bryan thought with exasperation. That puts me right back to where I was before this happened. My wife wants nothing to do with me, and now sits there expecting the worst. Just took at her, so pale and shaken she ought to be passed out in a faint.

  Two more of his men walked past him, heading for the body on the floor to the left. One of them bent to grab a booted leg, but the other paused to pull the girl's sword free. He cleaned the weapon quickly on the dead man's clothing, then turned to offer it back to the woman it belonged to, who now sat with one hand shading her eyes and the other to her middle, trying not to see anything going on in the room.

  So that's it, Bryan thought as he moved forward to take the weapon himself. Part of her problem is reaction to her first kill. I've seen trained men cry like babies or be sick all over themselves after the first, so she's not doing badly at all. But I won't be mentioning that for a while. She needs to know what a really stupid move this was, that two people could have died, if not three. It's time she learned to think rather than -

  Time. The word jolted Bryan, making him think about it after hours of forgetfulness. Her stepfather was to have come to dinner this night, giving him the answer he'd been searching for. After all this time it was supposed to be over - and here he stood in a roadhouse, hours away after haring off on the trail of a runaway girl. He had to get back as quickly as possible!