Deliver (The Blades of Acktar Book 4)

by Tricia Mingerink

  Leith tried not to think about the consequences of telling the Rovers a Blade guarded Stetterly. As long as the knowledge kept the Rovers away, Leith could deal with any other problems it had caused.

  15

  Martyn halted Wanderer near the top of a tall promontory. Several miles below, the town of Walden formed a black mass in the depression of several hills.

  Just riding into Walden openly felt…wrong. Like the people down there were still the enemy. If not for one decision there in the Tower, they would be.

  He should’ve been ready to face them. He’d had four days of making sure Kayleigh had enough food to last the days he’d be gone and packing a bundle of tanned hides onto the back of his horse, and another day and a half of riding to prepare himself.

  It hadn’t been enough. Perhaps because Martyn wasn’t fully on their side. He hadn’t joined the Resistance the way Leith and Jamie had. He hadn’t stuck with Leith the way Ranson had. He was an oddity, straddled between sides.

  Enough dawdling. The sooner he got down there and made his report, the sooner he could grab supplies and return to Kayleigh. Well, the home-cooked meals, anyway.

  Martyn turned Wanderer’s head, and they headed down the Hills and across the prairie. Martyn skirted around one hill that was covered with stones and wooden plaques marking the graves of those who’d died in battle. The graves stretched toward the horizon, rolling down one hill and up the side of another.

  Near Walden, the trampled remains of cornfields spread out in all directions. Circles of cleared ground and ashes marked the campsites of Respen’s army while it’d held Walden under siege.

  Walden itself showed damage. A band of bare earth marked the filled-in ditch encircling the manor house while the town rang with hammering as homes and business were rebuilt. A scaffold jutted next to one end of Walden Manor, and workmen bustled back and forth, reconstructing one section of wall.

  By winter, all traces of war would be fixed, except for the graves decorating the hilltops.

  Workmen halted and glanced up as Martyn rode past. A few gripped their hammers tighter, as if prepared to beat him senseless if he was a threat.

  Four guards trotted their horses toward him. Martyn held still, one hand on his thigh, the other gripping the reins. Only four of his knives were visible, the rest hidden in the bundle of furs behind him.

  One of the guards swept his gaze over Martyn, lingering on each of the knives. “Who are you and what’s your business in Walden?”

  “Owen Hill. I’m here to see Lord Alistair. The king’s business.” Martyn stared right back. He’d appear suspicious if he squirmed. Besides, he had nothing to squirm about. He had every right to be here. The paper hidden in a pocket of his shirt proved it.

  “Don’t remember seeing you before, and I thought I knew most of the king’s messengers.”

  “I’m new.” Martyn kept his voice even and a little cold.

  The guard’s expression soured further. He wheeled his horse. “Come with me.”

  The other three guards closed around Martyn, effectively keeping him and Wanderer caged as they rode the rest of the way to the manor.

  As Martyn swung down, Jolene Lorraine—no, Alistair now—strode around the corner of the building, dusting off her hands. Her long, golden hair flowed around her shoulders and down the back of her light green shirt. Dust speckled her buckskin skirt. Her eyes flicked over Martyn, and a spark flared in their depths. She recognized him. Had she been told about Martyn’s mission for King Keevan, or did she just remember him as the Blade who’d deserted them at Sierra?

  “Lieutenant, thank you for escorting this man into Walden. My father-in-law was expecting him. I’ll show him in.”

  He was expected? Lord Alistair must’ve told Shadrach and Jolene about Martyn’s mission.

  The lieutenant saluted and wheeled his horse. A stablehand took Wanderer’s reins from Martyn and led the horse toward the stable.

  Jolene gestured from Martyn to the front door. “Come along.”

  Martyn followed her into the grand entry hall of Walden Manor. Wood paneling covered the lower half of the walls while a deep green rug lay across the polished floor. A grand, wooden staircase rose to the second floor.

  Martyn cleared his throat as she headed down a hallway to their right. “You were expecting me?”

  Jolene tilted her head but didn’t slow her pace. “Shad and his father figured you’d swing by. Rovers are plaguing Uster and Duelstone, and some of the western towns are saying the same thing. It isn’t too much of a stretch to guess you would’ve stumbled onto something worth reporting.”

  Thanks to Kayleigh, Martyn hadn’t. He frowned. “Any word from Stetterly?”

  Not that he was worried about Leith and Renna. Worry was too much like friendship.

  “No.” Her tone deepened, like she was worried. She halted in front of a door, knocked, and opened it. “There’s—” She turned back to Martyn. “Which name do you want me to use?”

  “Doesn’t really matter.” Martyn brushed past her into the room.

  Lord Alistair perched behind the massive oak desk, the sunlight streaming through the windows casting sallow shadows beneath his eyes. He held a pen in his right hand, but his left hand drooped from the end of his sling. Shadrach leaned on the desk next to him. Both of them looked up as Martyn entered.

  Shadrach’s eyes darkened, and his face tightened. Lord Alistair’s expression never changed.

  Jolene shut the door behind Martyn. Locking him in? Martyn drew in a deep breath and forced himself not to reach for a knife.

  Shadrach straightened, crossed his arms, and leaned against the wall behind the desk. “We thought you’d show up around here soon, though we weren’t sure if you’d come through the door or the window.”

  The words sounded like a joke, but Shadrach’s mouth didn’t even twitch into a smile. Actually, he looked like he’d rather punch Martyn than be polite.

  The feeling was mutual.

  Lord Alistair smiled and waved at the two chairs placed in front of his desk. “Please, have a seat.”

  Martyn strode toward the desk, planted his feet behind one of the chairs, and crossed his arms. “I’d rather stand.”

  Lord Alistair leaned back in his chair. “Very well. What do you have to report?”

  This Martyn could handle. A report. Just like being a Blade, except that this time he could stand instead of kneel.

  He focused on a spot a few inches above Lord Alistair’s head. “About three weeks ago, I ran across five sets of tracks. I followed them for a week until I lost the trail near Flayin Falls. Last I saw, the tracks were headed west.”

  No need to tell Lord Alistair about Kayleigh. She was none of his business.

  “Do you think it was banished Blades?”

  “They moved like men who were wary of being seen. But without getting close enough to see them or being familiar with the horses they are riding, I can’t confirm one way or the other.” Martyn clenched his fingers. The rhythm and the tone of his voice all felt so familiar from his reports to King Respen that he’d nearly saluted and called Lord Alistair “my king.” Or at least, “my lord.”

  Did the five banished Blades feel the same way? Lost without a master, searching for someone to command them. Were all of them, Martyn included, like dogs too well-trained to do anything outside of a master’s orders?

  Even Leith, for all his claims of finding freedom, still served Lord Alistair and danced to his religion’s demands.

  Was there any such thing as freedom? Or was it all some sort of bondage with everyone seeking the master he or she wished to serve? No, even that made it sound like people had a choice. People were slaves to whims, bought and sold by desires. Was it worse to be the fools who deceived themselves into thinking they could escape or the cynics who knew they were trapped and did nothing but accept it?

  “I see. Anything else?”

  “No.” Martyn kept his eyes focused on the map of Acktar behind Lord Al
istair’s desk, specifically on the dot marking Flayin Falls. Was Kayleigh all right? What if her leg became infected? Or she ran out of meat before he returned?

  He shook himself. Why was he wasting time thinking about her? She had a knife. She had enough meat. She could take care of herself. Martyn cleared his throat. “I need more supplies.”

  “King Keevan authorized us to provision you as we would our own guards. I’m afraid we are a little short ourselves, but I believe we can scrape together enough. We received a shipment from Mountainwood a week ago.”

  Mountainwood? One of the towns that supported King Respen? Martyn dropped his gaze down to Lord Alistair.

  Lord Alistair sighed and rubbed his beard with his good hand. “Not my first choice, but that’s the way of war. The Resistance may have won, but all the towns that supported them were devastated in the war. Respen’s towns are prospering right now selling their supplies.”

  “At least Walden has timber to trade.” Shadrach’s scowl deepened lines around his mouth. “Other towns won’t be so well off.”

  Martyn couldn’t care less about the politics of trade. He needed to grab his supplies and leave. That was all.

  The door cracked open again. Jolene stuck her head in once again, though this time she was smiling. “Daniel Grayce here to see you.”

  Daniel Grayce. The name sounded familiar. Did Martyn know someone—

  Leith stood in the doorway.

  Martyn stiffened and gripped the back of the chair. Of all times for Leith to show up, it had to be now. A few hours later, and Martyn could’ve been out of here without ever seeing him.

  Leith went still, and his gaze caught on Martyn.

  Shadrach cleared his throat. “Both of you remembered to use the door. You’re almost becoming civilized.”

  Leith opened his mouth as if to reply with some retort, much the way he and Martyn used to.

  Time to leave. Martyn straightened. “If that is all, I’d like to grab my supplies and get back on the trail.”

  Lord Alistair nodded, and that was all the dismissal that Martyn waited for. He strode to the door and tried to brush past Leith.

  Leith caught his arm, but Martyn tore free. He had nothing to say. They weren’t friends or brothers. They weren’t even enemies any more. They just were.

  Martyn managed two strides before the study door shut. That was the annoying thing about Leith. He sometimes took it in his head to be stubborn. Martyn dragged a hand through his hair and spun on his heel.

  Leith stood a few feet away, leaning his weight on his right leg, the one that hadn’t been injured in the Tower. He’d filled out from the tortured skeleton he’d been when Martyn had left, but his eyes were still the same, piercing green.

  A tight smile creased Leith’s face. “You look…well.”

  “You too.” What else was there to say? That he was glad Leith had recovered from the torture Martyn helped inflict?

  A wrinkle formed between Leith’s eyes. As if he was concerned about Martyn like the brother he’d once been.

  Martyn probably should tell Leith about Kayleigh. Knowing Martyn had a base of operations and access to proper meals would reassure him.

  But Martyn didn’t. For once, he was keeping a secret from Leith. And that was a very satisfying feeling.

  “I tracked twelve Rovers from Stetterly into the Sheered Rock Hills. Last I saw, they were headed west. You might want to stay alert.” Leith lifted his hand, like he was about to clap Martyn on the shoulder. But his hand dropped back to his side.

  West from Walden? Martyn’s stomach tightened. Kayleigh. She was all alone and could barely walk. What if the Rovers stumbled across the cabin looking for supplies?

  He shouldn’t worry. He shouldn’t care. Kayleigh wasn’t anything to him but meals and a roof over his head.

  But something hurt deep in his chest. If those Rovers hurt her…

  “I need to go.” He marched down the hallway and didn’t look back.

  Leith watched Martyn stalk away. He’d tried. At least Martyn couldn’t fault him for giving up this time.

  The study door opened and closed behind him. Shad’s footsteps paused next to him. “He’s even more stubborn than you.”

  “He’ll come around. Eventually.” Leith had to believe that.

  “You sure?”

  “Yes. If he’d truly given up, he would’ve left Acktar behind and never looked back.”

  Shaking his head, Shad stepped past him. “We’ll see. I’d better scrounge up supplies for him.”

  As Shad strolled down the hallway, Leith returned to the study. He sank into one of the leather chairs and rubbed at his thigh. While the wounds had healed, the weak muscles ached after the long ride.

  When he looked up, Lord Alistair leaned back in his leather chair, his left hand dangling limply from the end of his sling. A reminder that Leith couldn’t complain about his own sore muscles and bones. He, at least, retained the use of all his limbs, even if he limped.

  “How are Renna and Brandi?” A smile broke through the deep lines on Lord Alistair’s face.

  “They’re fine. We had some trouble with Rovers, but I persuaded them to leave.” Leith shrugged. No reason to mention how he’d done that. “I trailed them to the Sheered Rock Hills before I doubled back here. I don’t think they’d attack a town as big as Walden, but it wouldn’t hurt to stay wary.”

  Lord Alistair nodded, and the sunlight caught on the threads of silver in his hair. “A few Rovers have already tried. They quickly realized their mistake. Uster and Duelstone have also had problems. Even Mountainwood has experienced a few raids on their cattle herds.”

  Leith raised his eyebrows at that. “Mountainwood? I’d thought most of the Rovers were Respen’s former soldiers? At least, the ones I ran into were.”

  “Soldiers of fortune could be found on both sides of the war, and that kind will prey on anybody they see as a target.” Lord Alistair frowned. “King Keevan doesn’t have the means to stop them. He could regather most of his army, but that would leave many towns vulnerable. And no one is sure how the country would react if he sent raiding parties of soldiers after the raiding parties of Rovers.”

  Leith shook his head. He didn’t envy King Keevan’s position. “What is he going to do?”

  “Right now, track them and send small divisions to deal with the most problematic Rovers.” After a moment, a smile broke through Lord Alistair’s thick beard. “I’m not sure if the news has reached Stetterly yet, but King Keevan and Queen Adelaide’s son Prince Duncan was born last week.”

  “I’ll be sure to pass along the news to Renna.” Leith flexed his fingers against his knees. Renna would want to visit, and Leith wouldn’t let her make the trip alone, even if King Keevan wouldn’t want Leith anywhere near the newborn prince.

  Shuffling in his pocket, Leith found the paper with the number of bushels—or was it wagonloads?—of corn Renna estimated Stetterly could comfortably trade with Walden. “Renna also sent me to ask about trading some of Stetterly’s corn for timber from Walden. She gave me a list of what she thought Stetterly could spare.”

  Lord Alistair’s right hand lifted, fingers splayed as if to steeple his fingers. He gave his left hand an annoyed look and let his right hand fall back to the desk. “You have no idea what a bushel of corn is worth, do you?”

  Bushels, then. Leith shook his head. “Nope. Or timber either.”

  “I can see why Renna sent you here. She knows I won’t take too much advantage of your ignorance.” A slow grin creased Lord Alistair’s face. He picked up the piece of paper Renna had given Leith and scanned what she’d written. “Here’s my offer. Since Walden’s repairs are almost complete, I’ll send a group of my men with a load of timber down the Ondieda River to Stetterly. Some will stay and help with the rebuilding while others will provide an escort for Stetterly’s corn to Walden. I’ll also include another shipment of timber in the spring, as well as the four beams needed for Stetterly’s church. In exchange, Wa
lden will receive everything listed on this paper.”

  Was Lord Alistair giving him the better end of the deal? Timber couldn’t be cheap, especially not the beams Stetterly needed for the new church building, not to mention the labor and the guards to transport the corn.

  But Leith wasn’t going to argue. “Done.”

  “Excellent. I was hoping Stetterly would have something to spare. It saves me having to trade exclusively with Mountainwood.” Lord Alistair’s hand twitched again, as if in a habit he was fighting to break.

  Leith cleared his throat. It could be months before he had a chance to return to Walden. If he wanted to figure out how to court Renna properly—how to make good on his someday promise—he had to ask now. “I put a few things together at Shad’s wedding. A groomsman takes on the responsibility of looking after the groom’s family if something happens to him. You were one of Laurence Faythe’s groomsmen. Renna and Brandi are in part your responsibility.”

  Lord Alistair leaned back in his chair. “Ah. You’re asking why I didn’t take Renna and Brandi to Walden immediately after Laurence and Annita’s deaths. Why I left them in danger so long.”

  “I wondered that.” Leith gripped the armrests of his chair. “But if you’d tried to bring them to Walden right away, Respen would’ve sent Blades to Walden to kill all of you. Your best chance was to pretend none of you were a threat.”

  Lord Alistair pressed his palm on the desk. “It killed me to leave Renna and Brandi unprotected, knowing that if trouble came, I was too far away to give aid.”

  “You did what you could. As soon as you received word First Blade Vane was after them, you left for Stetterly the next morning. Would’ve left that night if I hadn’t delayed you.”

  A smile twitched Lord Alistair’s mouth. “I was prepared to act sooner, as soon as I heard a Blade had been wounded and recovered at Stetterly, but Lachlan requested I wait. Even back then, he had faith in you.”

  Leith hung his head and stared at his hands. Lachlan had trusted him even then? How could he have done that, knowing Leith was his father’s son? Had Lachlan believed Leith instead inherited his mother’s courage?