When Gerdie and Finn were several yards from the leader, their captors yanked on their bound arms and kicked in the backs of their knees, forcing them to kneel.
While surveying his two prisoners, the chieftain took a piece of raw meat from one of the young women lounging at his side and swallowed it whole. The girls were less grimy than many of the other women and still had the bloom of youth upon them. In fact, the chieftain himself was not nearly as unkempt as the rest of his grubby band. Apparently his high-ranking position offered the rewards of a regular bath and a comparatively clean harem.
The chieftain’s gaze narrowed on Finn. A restless intelligence moved behind his probing gaze. “And who are you who dares to trespass into Bane territory?” he demanded, his voice booming throughout the cavern.
When Finn remained silent, his captor punched him in the kidney. The pain stabbed deep, making him stumble. Without a word, he gathered his composure, lingering on the notion that his torturer would soon have his head torn from his neck––a hole in the head was too neat.
“My name’s Finn McKeen,” he said at last.
The chieftain stared at him blank-faced. “Never heard of you. What were you outcast to Duenthorn for?”
“Murder,” Finn said. Since he’d been unconscious through the reading of the fable, he only knew what Sithias had told him, but guessed what the Bane needed to hear.
Gerdie’s mouth fell open as she turned to Finn.
“How many?” the chieftain asked, his gaze skimming over his rune-marked temple with veiled interest.
“Five.”
First there was silence. Then the chieftain laughed, a deep belly laugh that had the whole band joining in with cackles and heckling screeches.
“Is that all? You mean to tell me you’ve been exiled to the most heinous piece of earth this world has to offer for just five murders? Usually you’ve got to do more damage than that, eh?” he boasted to his tribe, laughing again.
“Eighty would almost do it!” a heckler yelled from the back, as others shouted out even more ridiculous numbers.
The chieftain looked at Finn. “Well if you didn’t want to be thrown back to the snow, you should’ve thought to do better than that, young sapling. I suppose that reindeer will spare you a night by the fire. That’s if you survive to see sunrise.” His half-veiled eyes slid to Gerdie. “The nipper’s on the scrawny side, but we’ll fatten her up so she grows into an able-bodied wench.”
Gerdie glared, sidling closer to Finn. “Do somethin’,” she murmured, turning a worried glance back at Sithias, who’d been hemmed in by a group of menacing children with sharp sticks.
“I say we gut ‘im now,” someone yelled.
Grunts and jeers swelled up from the motley horde, while those standing closest to Finn chanted, “Gut ‘im! Gut ‘im! Gut ‘im!”
Urged on by the bloodlust building in the mob, Finn yelled, “I challenge any of you to a fight!” He turned his heated gaze on the brute who’d gotten in one too many undefended blows. “If I had my pick, it’d be you, doll. Starting with a Glasgow kiss.”
The rapacious glare Finn gave him had the man stiffening. And his challenge had the crowd chanting, “Fight! Fight! Fight!”
The chieftain’s expression darkened. Most everyone saw his changed demeanor and the chanting died down, but a heckler in the back of the crowd still carried on.
Rising like an irritable bear fresh out of hibernation, the chieftain scanned the crush of grimy faces for the noisemaker. When his eyes landed on him, he threw his dagger into the tribe’s midst. Sudden silence descended as everyone turned to see his chosen target. A sinewy man with a rake of scars down one side of his face stood stock still, his body rigid and quaking as he mutely pulled the dagger from his shoulder.
Swallowing up space with his great height and girth, the chieftain signaled his men. “I decide when there’ll be a fight. Take the prisoners to my den.”
Finn’s torturer boxed him alongside the head and grabbed his arm. “You heard ‘im, scum. Move it!”
Finn strained against his ropes, skin burning as the knots loosened. Before his captor realized what he was doing, his wrist slipped free and he grabbed the man by the neck. “That’s it sweetmeat, I’ve had quite enough of you.”
Before he could react, Finn head-butted him. The pain drilling into his forehead fueled his fury. Seeing red, he lurched forward, biting down on the end of the stunned man’s nose and tearing it off. He let go of his screaming victim and spit out the bloody lump. Disgusted by the metallic tang of blood, Finn sneered, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. “Huh…not so sweet after all.”
Gerdie watched in horror. Short of foaming at the mouth like a rabid dog, it was plain to see Finn had gone off the deep end.
She dodged out of the way as several men pounced on him all at once. He whipped one of them forward, propelling him into the crowd, and kicked another one back with a blow to his chest. The rowdy bunch pushed and shoved, but most kept clear of him––all staring half in fear, half in rage.
“Come on,” Finn goaded, his eyes crazed and gleaming bright green. “Who’s next? I’ll give every one of you a royal gubbing!”
The chieftain closed in behind him with surprising speed, snaking his thick trunk of an arm around his neck and squeezing hard. Finn wrenched on his brawny arm, but the chieftain lifted him off his feet, cutting off his oxygen. Kicking and twisting for nearly a minute, Finn’s eyes rolled back in his head and he fell limp.
Letting him drop to the ground, the chieftain strode away. Without looking back he called to his men, “Grab his sorry bones and bring the lass.” He paused for a split second. “And after the beast’s been butchered, bring me those handsome antlers.”
Frightened for Sithias, Gerdie rushed toward him, but someone grabbed her by the scruff of her dress, hauling her into the air. As she was carried away the mob descended on Sithias like a flock of vultures. All she could see were his antlers and a battery of sticks raining down on him.
Chapter 28
"PUT ME DOWN!" GERDIE SCREAMED into her captor’s ear as he carried her through a maze of dark, drafty passages. “You touch my reindeer and I’ll kill y––”
Clamping his rough, filthy hand over her mouth, he scowled at her with his one good eye and pushed past a curtain of fur hides covering the opening of a den. Once inside, he released his grip, letting her drop like a sack of potatoes. Jabbing an oily finger at her as she scrambled backward, he growled, “You need a lesson on behavin’, runt.” Hearing a noise out in the passage, he glanced nervously over his shoulder then back at her. “I’ll be dealin’ with you later.”
Gerdie let out a relieved sigh when he turned and left. Rising up on her feet, she looked around in surprise. This did not look like the den of a barbarian. A collection of candelabras lit the chamber and a fire crackled at its center. Persian rugs softened the rough walls and hung behind bookshelves filled with leather-bound books and finely appointed bric-a-brac. Layers of sheepskin rugs covered the cold stone floor. A polar bear rug––complete with head and gaping fanged mouth––lay on top. Silk cushions were scattered around the fire and more were piled on a large mattress draped with gossamer.
However, it was the young woman sitting by the fire who captured Gerdie’s attention. Her delicate features spoke of fine breeding, but she was clearly lost in a world of her own imagining, playing out some sort of drama with a wooden doll. Gerdie tiptoed over and knelt next to her to study the carven figure in her hand. A knowing came over her. This was Valesca, the daughter who’d been poisoned and pushed to insanity, which meant the doll must be the carving of Bremusa.
Two men pushed through the flaps, dragging Finn’s limp form between them. They hoisted him into a chair and tied him to it with careful, painstaking knots. The chieftain followed them in, tugged on the ropes to ensure they were secure and ordered the men to leave. Yanking the fur flaps back in place, he turned to Gerdie. “Now then, tell me about your friend here. Why’s he
so dead set on getting himself killed?” he said, his tone hushed.
Confused by his friendly manner, Gerdie watched as he removed his headdress and rubbed his big hand over a shiny bald head ringed with long brown braids. He placed it next to Valesca, who stared at the gold fur and ebony horns of the headdress as if it had just fallen from the sky. When she smiled up at him, he stroked her auburn hair with affection.
His gaze returned to Gerdie then flicked to the entrance. “I haven’t got much time. The natives will be wanting to draw and quarter this young lad as soon their appetites are sated with fresh meat, so I need to decide whether he’s worth sparing.”
Gerdie studied the chieftain’s broad features. His face had lost the severity he’d shown earlier, revealing a gentle, disarming quality in his expression and kind eyes, the color of lightly toasted biscuits. “Uh…it’s kind of a long story, but the short of it is he’s been poisoned. It’s been turnin’ his innards dark for a while now.”
The chieftain looked at Finn, his gaze thoughtful as he studied his slumped form. “I can see that. Whatever this poison is, it packs a powerful punch. The lad’s uncommonly strong–– and fast.”
“Oh, it’s not the poison that makes him strong. It’s the runes on his skin. The poison just makes him mean.”
The chieftain scratched his chin. “Runes, eh?”
“Yeah, they’re an old language––”
“I know what they are,” he interrupted. “I’ve just never seen the runes of the Elder race on a human before. I was told I would one day, but I’d nearly forgotten ‘til now.”
Gerdie remained quiet, not knowing if this was good or bad.
“I think it’s time we woke the young scrapper,” he said, grabbing a water pitcher and dumping its contents over Finn’s face.
A face full of icy water was as shocking as a bare-knuckled punch. Immediate rage shot through Finn’s rattled nerves and had him lunging at the perpetrator. When he couldn’t move his arms and legs, his temper exploded in a frenzied attempt to break his bonds. “What the bloody hell?” he shouted, his furious gaze falling on the big bald man standing over him. It took a second to realize it was the chieftain.
“Calm down, laddie,” he said with an easy smile that caught Finn off-guard. “No one’s after you––well, Dreg’s going to be wanting a nose for a nose, and then some for what you did. But you’re safe for the moment.”
“Bring it on,” Finn fumed.
“You’d like that, wouldn’t you? A chance to unleash that bottled rage onto such deserving characters as the Bane? Don’t get me wrong––it wouldn’t be any skin off my teeth. The Bane are nothing more than dishonest curs, the whole lot of them. They’d slit the throats of their own children if it meant getting the Chieftain’s seat.” He sat down opposite him and leaned forward. “You wouldn’t believe what I’ve had to do to keep them fearing me. Biting someone’s nose off is child’s play compared to what I’ve done to get my seat, and keep it.”
Finn gripped the arms of the chair, his pulse pounding. “And your point is?”
Shrugging, the chieftain settled back in his chair. “We’ve all got a dark side, lad. And sometimes it’s necessary to use it, but we don’t have to let it rule us. I may be the reigning King of Hell outside this room, but when I’m in here with my niece, I shed that monster and remember who I truly am.”
Finn laughed, a grim sounding bark. If only it were that easy. Yet a part of him he thought was gone, grasped for the lifeline being tossed to him.
Gerdie stood, angling away from the addled girl talking gibberish, staring at the chieftain wide-eyed. “Are you Prince Rudwor?”
A shadow crossed over his face. “How is it you know my name?” Standing, he unsheathed his sword, his suspicious gaze darting between her and Finn. “Ah, I see how it is. You’ve been sent to end the royal bloodline for good, have you?”
Gerdie held up her arms in alarm. “We’re nothin’ but messengers. It was King Lortaun who sent us,” she said, her gaze shifting to Finn as she covered for them both. “Beldereth was attacked, but Bremusa used the power of the lightnin’ sword to defeat them.”
Rudwor stood still. “Lightning sword? What is this thing?”
“It came from the scryer in the Well of Eyes.”
Lowering his sword, Rudwor narrowed his eyes and looked at Finn. “’Twas the scryer who told me I’d meet a young man with the Elder race runes on his skin, and that he would be the one to lead me back to the throne of Beldereth.”
Finn lowered his gaze, concealing his surprise.
“That’s right,” Gerdie said, going on to explain what had happened in Beldereth and how Bremusa had received all of Murauda’s powers. “You gotta return to Beldereth with Valesca’s doll. It controls Bremusa and her army. With that doll, you’ll be king.”
Hearing this, Valesca screamed at the top of her lungs.
Finn strained against the ropes, the noise grating on the raw edges of his nerves.
Kneeling down, Rudwor wrapped a burly arm around his niece’s thin frame. As he made soft shushing noises her screeching quieted into a whimper. He lifted a sad gaze to Gerdie and swallowed. “If you’re here to resurrect this would-be king, then my brother must be dead.”
“Gorm tortured him to get the doll.” She hesitated a moment. “He died without telling him where it was.”
Rudwor’s chest caved with grief. “No, he would never tell. My brother was a better man than I could ever hope to be.” He took a deep breath and straightened. “He won’t have died for naught. You’ve given me reason to finally wedge myself from this ill-begotten kingdom of mine.” He clapped his big hands together, looking both determined and troubled. “Only one problem. We need to leave without calling attention to ourselves. And let me assure you, any attention from the Bane is never good––”
“Hey! We’re ready to skin that mangy cur!” One of the Bane yelled from behind the flaps. “Hand ‘im over!”
Rudwor stomped to the entrance. “I’m not done with him yet!” He smashed a vase against the wall and ruffled the flaps. “I’ll burn out your eyes, cut out your tongues and eat ‘em raw!” He put his ear to the flap, listening to their response outside. Satisfied, he lumbered back and moved to cut Finn’s ropes, stopping at the last second with his blade poised. “If I cut you loose, do I have your word you’ll work with me, not against me?”
Finn stared at him, resisting the grounding influence the self-possessed man was having over him. He couldn’t give into hope. Not after what he’d done. He was a monster unworthy of freedom and he deserved whatever grim death the Bane wanted to dish out. “No, just leave me be.”
Rudwor’s expression grew fearsome. “You’ll not stay here, young sapling. It may have been foretold you’d be the one to lead me back to the throne, but something tells me this goes both ways. Maybe I’m here to help lead you back to yourself. Sometimes it takes one monster to understand another.”
Finn sneered. “You think you can save me? Don’t you think I’ve tried? You have no idea what I’m capable of.” Rudwor stared back with recognition in his eyes, as if looking straight at the demon hiding inside him. Unable to bear the scrutiny any longer, Finn turned his head, glaring at his ropes. “I’ve done unforgivable things,” he muttered through gritted teeth.
“Well, if that’s how you feel,” Rudwor said. He lifted his sword and brought it down.
Finn clenched his eyes shut, bracing for the slice of steel through his chest. Instead the ropes fell from one arm. Angry that he hadn’t finished it for him, he glowered at the huge man. “You really shouldn’t have done that.”
Rudwor cut the rest of his bonds. “I won’t be your executioner, lad. This isn’t the time or the place for you to meet your maker. I’ve got a sense about you, and it tells me you’ve got more good in your little toe than all the Bane combined,” he said, undaunted by Finn’s scowl.
Finn shook with silent laughter. “I’ve already met my maker, thank you.” As he tried to hold Rud
wor’s unwavering gaze, he shifted uncomfortably and said, “All right. But mark my words, you’ll most likely live to regret this.”
A grin transformed Rudwor’s stern expression. “No I won’t. You don’t know what I’m capable of,” he said, slapping Finn’s shoulder, nearly knocking him off his feet.
“Okay,” Gerdie said, stepping up between them, “now that we’ve got that settled, you gotta get our reindeer back.”
Rudwor glanced down at her with a guilty shrug. “He’s dinner by now.”
Just then a white mouse with brown wings hastily darted into the chamber and landed on Gerdie’s shoulder. “Sssorryto disssappoint,” the mouse squeaked, gasping for air. “But I’m very much alive. No thanksss to any of you.”
“Oh thank goodness, you’re alive!” she said, smiling with relief. “And so cute!”
Wringing its tiny paws together, the mouse twitched nervously. “Thisss is no time for flattery, nor will it win my forgivenesss. Thossse barbariansss wanted to eat me! And when I changed they went berssserk. I wasss nearly sssquashed!”
“And who or what would this be?” Rudwor asked, perplexed.
“I would be Sithiasss,” he said, wiggling his pink nose and fluttering his wings. “I’m the reindeer you so callousssly threw to thossse wolvesss!”
Rudwor raised his brows in confusion. “This mouse is daft. He thinks he’s a reindeer. Or maybe I’m the nutter. After all, I’m talking to a mouse––with wings no less.”
A guttural shout from outside the chamber startled Sithias. He dashed into Gerdie’s hair, hiding as Rudwor rushed to the entrance and poked his head through the fur flaps.
Fate's Fables Boxed Set (Fables 1 - 8): One Girl's Journey Through 8 Unfortunate Fairy Tales Page 30