by Faye, Amy
None of it made sense, but he tried to push the thought out of his mind. He didn't have time to worry about that. He was on the move now. Too many questions, and Deirdre the only one with the answers.
That meant moving quickly. He kept going, only checking the soft dirt every so often, to confirm. Another flower. And then another. The flowers were changing, now, as she started to run low on stock of the red ones.
How far behind was he? Would he know in advance, if he just followed the trail?
He thought for a moment as the horse continued, then cut right. He could still see the flowers from four hundred paces, but it might give him enough separation when it counted to get around them in this thicket, and if they returned to open rolling hills, then he would be able to keep the high ground.
There was plenty to worry about, he thought. What if he were caught, what if Deirdre got hurt? What if there was another ambush, and they weren't prepared for it this time like they had been the last?
What was Deirdre doing, and why would she leave signals for him after her betrayal? How would she have known he was following behind?
Eighteen
It was a warm morning, one of the first of the year, but Deirdre didn't notice that. She had far too much else on her mind. When the three came back around as the sun rose, waking her with a hand on her ankle, she sat up with a jolt.
Already, threats from both sides had started to echo in her mind. If she told them anything, would Valdemar know? Was one of them working with him? If not, then how had he known?
She tried to keep her face impassive, waited for them to speak. Even still, the thoughts raced through her mind. If she didn't tell them whatever they wanted to know, then they were committed to making her life hell. She'd been told so in not remotely uncertain terms, and she believed it.
For a long time both sides watched the other, neither speaking. What were they waiting for? What was Deirdre supposed to do? If she'd known what they wanted then she would have given it to them. But she didn't know, and that made her situation that much more painful, prolonged the silence that much more.
"How was your meeting?"
The question almost sounded sarcastic, in the way that it was so… almost pleasant.
"I didn't tell him anything," she blurted. She didn't know what else they would want to know, but that was the first thing that she knew could get her into a lot of trouble. So it fell out, almost before she even knew what was going on.
"If you had, we wouldn't be here. Isn't that right?" Leif's voice was low and hard, and she shuddered at the sound of it. He left out the fact that he would have taken more than one person with him, but somehow Deirdre didn't miss it.
"I suppose not," she agreed, not sure how to react. When would they finally ask their questions? How long would this go on for?
She blinked back the thoughts and with a deep breath, drew herself back up to her full height and when she opened her eyes again she had control of herself.
"What was he doing when you went in?"
She tried to remember. His back had been to the entrance, and he had been doing… something, with his hands. She tried to think harder, to remember what had been on the table, to remember what he had been doing.
But there was nothing. She hadn't looked. She'd been too busy trying to take in the entire surrounding. She shook her head.
"I don't know. He was facing away, and I couldn't see what was in his hands."
Eirik nodded as if he were confirming the story, in spite of the fact that he couldn't have known.
"And what did he ask you?"
"He asked me about you. Not your names specifically, but he knew that someone had been to talk to me and that they were asking for me to spy."
"What did he tell you to say?"
"Nothing. He didn't tell me anything, but…" her voice cracked under the pressure. "He'll kill me, I swear he was going to kill me."
She wasn't sure what she was supposed to have told them. The truth was one thing, but the truth was that he hadn't given her much to go on. He'd made some menacing comments, and given her a few hard looks.
But when she looked back up and watched their eyes for a reaction, they held none. She let out a breath she didn't know she'd been holding. All she wanted was to be free from this situation. Both sides wanted to ask all of these questions, questions that she had no answer for and no idea how to respond to.
Would this have happened if Gunnar were still here? Even if he hadn't challenged Valdemar to his revenge-duel, the threat of it would have kept everyone in line, she thought. But she had needed him gone, and the consequences were what she had to accept because she'd done what had to be done.
Leif spoke again. "We'll be in touch. Keep an eye out. If you think we'd like to know, well, remember it."
Deirdre nodded sleepily. She hadn't been able to fall asleep the night before, worrying and waiting. She had to hope that Gunnar would find them somehow. Tracking them, or something.
And she had to hope that when he did catch up with them, that he would understand why she'd done what she had, because the more time that went by the more that she wasn't sure that she understood it herself. She shuddered at the thought.
How much would they try to squeeze her? It wasn't fair, but she'd brought it all on herself. She drifted to an uneasy sleep, and was awoken again by someone's hand on her. She turned hard. The boy was there. He had an expression she didn't like, but when he told her to follow there was no choice but to obey.
Valdemar wasn't facing away from the entrance to his tent, this time. He was sitting in his chair, lounging back, and he had an oddly contented smile on his face.
"I hear that you had a visit this morning from your new friends," he said. "I hope you didn't tell them anything."
"I don't know anything to tell them," she said. It was the truth.
"That's fine, but you remember that." He got up and walked around beside her. He had a mannish, earthy smell that she picked up on as he came closer, close enough that she could feel the heat radiating from his body.
She tried not to want him to give her space, tried not to panic from it. Whatever was about to happen, she had to grit her teeth and bear it, because if she didn't then she was a dead woman.
"I've done a lot of thinking." His voice was low, now. Nobody outside could have heard it. It made her knees wobble. "You are useful to me, as a healer. But what if you could be more useful?"
Deirdre closed her eyes and prayed that this wasn't about to happen.
"What if you were to be my spy, instead of theirs? That could be useful, couldn't it?"
Deirdre's heart skipped a beat. That hadn't been what she expected to happen, and it made her mind race. What if she'd wanted it to? What if she was going crazy? Why had her mind gone straight to— to that?
She tried to answer, tried to soothe his ego. That's such a wonderful idea, she tried to say, or Whatever you demand, my Lord. But her throat was dry and tight and she couldn't get the words to come.
"Why don't you earn their trust with a little bit of information? Why not tell them that when Gunnar arrives, I've got a plan to deal with him, and there's nothing that they can do about it?"
"What?"
"Tell them this. That I've learned the secret of how to hurt him, how to hurt him for real. And that when the time comes, it's not going to be a little scratch on his stomach or a little poke in his ribs. Tell them that I'm going to kill him, and that they're going to watch."
Her mind raced. "If I say that, they'll want to know how."
"You don't know how I'll do it, but you know that I have a poison that can kill him."
She turned, conscious once more of their closeness. "You don't mean—"
"It would be very upsetting for them, I think, and especially for Gunnar, if they were to find out where I had gotten that information. They might think that you were in league with me this whole time, and that would certainly be a shame."
She could see it in his eyes. He want
ed her, wanted to reach his hand out and touch her, and the only reason that he didn't was that he was holding himself back. She took a step away, hoping that the distance would rein him in further.
He smiled, called in the boy, who came in and started to guide her out, his hand on the small of her back. Valdemar called to her softly as she was guided out.
"Make sure that you don't make any mistakes, I'd hate to see you in distress!"
And then she was out again, and the question burned in her mind, what she was going to do to get out from under his thumb.
It wasn't remotely pleasant to ride, but the horse was ultimately a good one, he had to admit. It wasn't hard to see where they were going, now; they must have decided that he wasn't following any more, or perhaps things had gotten a little bit tense with the raiding party.
In either case, they cut a thick swath through the forest, now. Anyone could have seen that someone—or, more pointedly, many someones—had been through the area. Gunnar's concern now was trying to stay far enough away that he wouldn't get spotted right away.
He was skirting wide when he saw that they'd stopped a bit early. Earlier than he would have, certainly. The question of why didn't worry him nearly so much as the fact that he couldn't afford to show up with the sun as high in the sky as it was.
There must have been something to it, and Gunnar couldn't entirely shake the fear that the reason had everything to do with him. He needed to make sure that he wasn't walking into a trap, and that meant taking things slowly.
He made two circles, one at the edge of the clearing, trying to stay out of sight, and the second further out. Nothing, and that worried him.
So the answer, the only answer he could see, was to think about their next move. They were heading more-or-less straight, and had been for days. They'd even passed by smaller towns in their movements. Not surprising, given Valdemar's desire for the greatest glory.
No, he'd much rather lay siege to a big city, Gunnar thought. Even if he could only make it into the outskirts before being routed, he would think that would be that much better. Foolish, but predictable.
So it made sense to get a day's start on them and see what they would find. He set the horse going in the right direction and let it go, keeping himself down and tight for fear of falling from its back. Nothing. A whole lot of nothing. He'd been concerned for no reason. A half-hour of nothing. Three quarters.
He was so surprised to find something that he nearly rode straight through the camp before he realized what he was seeing. The men weren't particularly well-set for a night out in the wild, but then they were natives. Perhaps they had no special fear for rain. Perhaps they were so used to rain that they didn't worry about it.
But even without tents, he could see them going back until the trees were too thick to see through. There must have been a hundred of them, or more.
Thanks to his hesitation and his poor handle of the horse, he stood still, high atop his horse, for a long time. Both of them looking at each other, each as surprised as the other.
The English sorted themselves out first, and then everything started moving at once. Gunnar wheeled the horse back around and kicked it into a hard gallop, heading into the wrong direction.
This was bad. Very bad. He heard an arrow thud into a tree, another barely missing. A third, though, hit home, deep in his leg. He managed to keep his composure, didn't cry out, and pushed the horse harder, the wind blowing through his hair.
This was bad. No matter how good they were, the men that they had remaining, some thirty-odd, couldn't take on a force this size. Even if they were poorly organized. After they'd seen Gunnar, they would report back to whoever commanded them, and more troops would be sent.
Troops less likely to react as slowly as these had. No, they absolutely couldn't go this way. They'd be killed to a man. Gunnar couldn't afford to keep waiting. He'd have to go back, and it had to be tonight.
Nineteen
Deirdre tried to calm her breathing and settled down with her legs dangling out of the wagon. The boy hadn't been as careful as perhaps he should have, but she wasn't about to complain.
The feeling of the air on her face, the wind in her hair, was oddly comforting. If he was going to let her feel it, and all it cost her was some juvenile looks, then she was perfectly ready to let him look. Any more, and she'd have to stop it.
Just like she needed to stop being passed around from one side to the other, used as a pawn to position the other side. She had waited far too long to start trying to use her connection to Gunnar to her advantage, and once she had, it had been easy to start thinking that she was done.
That mindset was exactly what had gotten her into this situation in the first place. She needed to start thinking again, start strategizing. What would her teacher have said if she saw Deirdre trying to make herself as scarce as possible?
'Always think three steps ahead,' she had said. Here Deirdre was, risking everything on a single gamble, and wiping her hands of strategy like it wasn't something to worry about.
Well, she was over that. It was time for her to start thinking hard, and do it before Leif and Eirik came back to hear what she'd found out.
The thing that bothered her was Valdemar's threat. If he was going to poison Gunnar as soon as they saw each other, then why did it help him to have them learning about it first? He was right, in a way. There was little, if anything, that they could do to stop it.
But what did that matter? He wouldn't have done it just to boast, she thought. He seemed to be thinking, to have planned and connived. He'd waited until Gunnar was at his weakest to strike.
When Valdemar had seen that Gunnar wasn't going to have a moment of weakness in a timely fashion, he'd gone out of his way to make sure that one would happen for him. No, he wasn't just boasting. He wouldn't just boast, not when things were tense. Not just before the critical moments.
So what was his plan? They would have to react to a threat like that. No avoiding it, they would have to. They could find Gunnar, warn him. But how could they, unless they knew where he was? Perhaps that was Valdemar's plan—to see if they immediately reported it.
But Deirdre knew better. He wouldn't bide his time one instant longer than necessary. If Gunnar was near, lying in wait, then he would have already struck. If Valdemar didn't know that about his former leader, then he was a fool, and he had known Gunnar longer than Deirdre.
No, it couldn't be that. So what else?
They could warn Gunnar, certainly, or they could prevent the stabbing. But if someone could stay his blade, then Gunnar himself would be the man. He was as quick as anything that Deirdre had ever seen, and he'd been on battlefields since she was barely waist-high.
To stop it at the moment of the strike, then, wouldn't make any sense at all. They wouldn't be that foolish. To stop it before? They could attack Valdemar in a gang, overcome him with numbers. But more than a few would stand with him because they were loyal to him in particular, and as many more would defend him because he was the leader.
What, then? They would try to take the poison, or at least learn the truth of the poison. An ambush waiting for them, they could be painted as traitors and trying to sabotage equipment. That would be enough to effectively and permanently silence any rebellion on their part.
Deirdre watched the sun setting, the purple streaks spreading through the sky. They would be coming by soon, and she had a decision to make. They would come to the same conclusion she had. That much was clear.
If she told them that he had planned a poisoning, then they would realize that there was no way to warn Gunnar, no way to stop the blade at the point of impact, so they had to remove the threat of poison. It was why Valdemar had come up with the plan.
If she didn't tell them, then Valdemar would know. That would be a problem in itself, because as much as they promised to protect her, they weren't ever-present and they weren't capable of perfection.
With Valdemar's servants constantly surrounding them, it would o
nly take a short moment for her to find a knife in her breast. An instant of slack attention, and she could be a dead woman.
She had another gamble to make, then. Another choice. Would she trust them, or would she make the choice for herself? She'd already made that mistake once. She needed to get out of here, and the first step to that was making sure that she was still alive for Gunnar to come and rescue her, when he caught up.
She heard them coming a long time before they walked into view. Heard their voices as they tried to play the part of casually inspecting camp, giving themselves an excuse for being near the medical cart and the prisoner.
"You met with Valdemar," Eirik began, waiting for her to fill in the blanks.
"He's planning to ambush you," she said softly. "When you go into his tent to steal something."
Leif raised an eyebrow, translating for Ulf. "It's a good thing we weren't planning on it, then."
"You have to," she said softly. "He's discovered a poison. If Gunnar takes a wound with a weapon coated in it, he's as mortal as any man."
The men reacted slowly, but finally Eirik spoke. "Is that true?"
"He told me to warn you about the poison, and that was all."
"Hm."
"He'll expect you to try to steal it, or destroy it, and then he'll be waiting. I'd stake my life on it."
"And why not just ignore it?"
"If he thinks I haven't told you, then he'll kill me."
"I'd like to see him try that," Leif growled. "I've kept a close watch, though I don't think you'll have heard it."
"I believe you, but how closely can you watch? A moment to duck behind the wagon and a blade in the hand, and I'm a dead woman."
Eirik's jaw set. "If the Gods will it, that will have to do. If Leif says he watches, then you are safe."
She nodded. They started to leave, keeping their thoughts to themselves. A thought made her call them back.
"How soon can you be ready for a fight?"