Darnay and Elise chased each other around the clearing. I watched them play, wishing for some of their innocence. Jarvin was hunting for supper.
“If I don’t hurry, something terrible is going to happen to Tomas. I dreamed about him dying on the battlefield all night last night, variations on the same theme. I couldn’t see the face of the man who kills him, and I couldn’t stop the act. The whole time, a horrible certainty I could have prevented it all strangled me. If I’d only arrived a few moments earlier I could have prevented it all.”
Beyond Anise, Darnay danced away from Elise, just beyond her grasping fingers. His taunting laughter echoed around the clearing.
“I want to get to Tomas as fast as possible.”
Anise turned the spit.
“I give up!” Elise stomped over and threw herself down on the ground, showering Anise with snow. The bits that fell in the fire spit and hissed.
“Don’t give up.” I nudged her boot.
“He runs too fast.” She pouted prettily. Her mother must have been a beauty. One glance at her features and one could see the potential in her wide eyes, narrow chin, and elegant cheekbones.
“Who says?”
“I do. I can never catch him.”
“Then wait and catch him unawares.”
“Win by waiting?” She screwed up her face in confusion.
I couldn’t help smiling at her. “Yes. He will grow bored when you don’t chase him and resort to acting foolishly to enliven the game. Another thing you could do is don’t chase him as hard. Then when he slows down to taunt you, catch him.”
She considered my suggestions. “I think I’ll try that. Later, though. I am tired now.”
Darnay tramped over and squatted on the other side of Anise. “What’s to eat, grandma?”
“Rabbit.”
“I thought it was Brielle’s turn to cook.”
“It was,” I admitted before Anise explained. “Your grandma offered to help me for a bit. I can take it back now.”
We transferred the spit without incident. Anise rose to her feet and brushed her skirt clean. “I will speak to Jarvin when he returns about your concerns about…” She glanced down at the children and then jutted her chin to the east.
“No, let me. I have other things I need to discuss with him.” I had never mentioned the plot against the king’s life. “Things I couldn’t speak of before…” I nodded toward where Darnay sat. “We have many reasons to press on more quickly.”
Anise lifted her eyebrows. “You will share the same with me when you get a chance.”
I promised I would.
“I suspect Jarvin will agree to us pushing harder.” Anise ruffled her grandson’s hair. “It will be hardest on the children, but I think we can manage it.”
“What are you talking about?” Darnay demanded. His sharp eyes darted back and forth between us. “Is something wrong with Father?”
“No, Darnay.” Anise smiled at him with more assurance than I would have been able to muster. “I am sure your father is just fine. Brielle is just worried about him.”
“Why? She isn’t his daughter.”
“But she is his wife. She loves him.”
“She can’t.” Darnay frowned. “I love him.”
“We can both love him,” I tried to explain.
“No.” His eyes filled with tears. “He is my father, not yours.”
“Calm down.” Anise rubbed his arm. “All of us love your father, Darnay, just in different ways. You have to learn to share him. He is my son, Elise’s uncle, and your father, but he is also Brielle’s husband. She loves him too.”
I was so thankful Anise explained it for me. I wasn’t sure I could bring myself to say the words. I cared for Tomas. He touched me in ways that none other did, but up until now I had only applied the word love to three people in my life: Mother, Father, and Loren. Only one of them lived. I still grieved the other two.
“I don’t want her to love him.”
Anise lowered herself until she was face-to-face with Darnay. “She wants to love you too.”
“She can’t.” He folded his arms. “Father and I are a family.” He turned away and ran for the trees.
Anise straightened slowly as though her back hurt. “Give him time. He needs to get used to the idea.”
I nodded and prayed for the right words to say when the time came.
“Best rotate that spit or the rabbit will burn and Darnay will not believe you know how to cook.” Her warm smile soothed the fear that rose at the thought. “He is a child, Brielle. He will adjust.”
Suddenly remembering Elise, I looked around only to find she had wandered over toward the horses. She tramped in circles, making paths in the few remaining smooth expanses of snow in the clearing.
Within minutes Darnay joined her. Together they laughed. Apparently, my intrusion into Darnay’s ordered world was forgotten for now.
“Now would be a good time to tell me of those other reasons we must hurry.” Anise settled at my side and adjusted her skirt.
I told her of Jorndar’s men lying in wait for King Mendal.
*~*~*~*~*~*~*
Chapter Nineteen
We doubled our pace, traveling farther into the evenings and waking earlier in the mornings. It still took another day’s travel for the scenery to grow familiar. Since we didn’t follow the main trail, we almost missed the village completely. I noted it in time and we corrected our course and pressed onward.
Mid-morning the third day, we broke through the tree line southwest of Wisenvale.
To the south spread a sea of tents. I recognized the low-lying shelters of Tomas’ men among Rathenridge and Landry’s regular-sized pavilions. The triple standards of Irvaine, Rathenridge, and Landry whipped in the wind.
Identical colors flew above the army arrayed along the slight rise between us and Wisenvale. I was encouraged by the restless mass of men and horses blocking our view of the village.
Without thought to my traveling companions, I heeled my horse into motion. Only as I approached the hindmost ranks did I become aware of another rider joining me. I glanced over expecting Jarvin. It was Anise. She rode alone.
“Jarvin is taking the children to the camp.”
“Willingly?”
“Of course not.”
We were spotted. A small stir among the ranks resulted in two mounted warriors breaking off to ride to meet us.
I slowed my mount as they approached. Anise fell back behind my left side into a place of subservience.
“This is a battlefield, not a place for women.” The senior warrior’s bushy dark brows gave his frown a menacing edge that didn’t match the tone of his gravelly voice. He wore Rathenridge’s colors of red and brown.
“Where is Lord Irvaine?”
His brows lowered even more. “Who asks?”
“Lady Irvaine and his mother, Anise Dyrease.”
Sharp blue eyes scanned my face, evaluating my honesty. “You don’t look like a lady, my lady.”
After three days of hard travel and little time to attend to my appearance, I probably didn’t. “We fled Kyrenton and the journey has been rough. Is Lord Irvaine with the army?”
“No. He meets with Lord Wisten and Baron Areyuthian in an attempt to negotiate peace. King Mendal hasn’t appeared, and we are outnumbered.”
Anise sucked air in through her teeth. “Areyuthian?”
“Aye.”
“You know him?” I asked.
Anise avoided my gaze. “You might say that.” She addressed the warrior. “Is this the first meeting between the men?”
“Aye.” His puzzled frown didn’t clear up anything.
I pressed again. “Where are they meeting?”
“Over there.” He gestured northwest. “We have orders…”
I didn’t wait for him to finish. Heeling my mount forward, I urged him toward the battle line.
“My lady!” The warrior’s yelled consternation rang in my ears, but I ignored it. I
had to see Irvaine. Just a glimpse to see that he lived would be enough, or at least that was what I told myself. I dispelled the lie from my thoughts as I came abreast of the forward-most ranks. Gaining horrified and annoyed glances from the men on either side, I craned my neck to gaze out over the fields.
Arrayed across the opposite rise just outside the village a host of gleaming shields caught the sunlight. Bouncing light and the glare of the snow made it difficult to estimate the number of opposing soldiers, but I guessed at least five hundred men stood at attention beneath orange and gray banners. Beyond them, I spotted the roof of Nariahna’s cottage marking the edge of my home.
A wide gully of perhaps a quarter mile lay between the armies.
“My lady.” The older warrior on his mount pushed abreast of the line on my left. “You should not be here.”
“On the contrary, I need to be here. Where is Irvaine?”
“There, my lady.” The soldier on my right pointed off to the west. A cluster of men stood beneath the shade of Whorl’s Oak and beyond the last ranks of both armies. Even at this distance, I recognized Tomas’ helmet and the set of his shoulders. The urgency in my chest eased slightly. He lived.
But as I calmed and turned my attention to the others in the group, one man raised his hand and made a flippant gesture that brought dread rushing back. Orwin stood behind Tomas.
A glint of sun on a blade was the only warning of the deadly intent of Orwin’s downward thrust.
A cry ripped from my throat as Tomas crumpled. My heart screamed and my vision swam as I gasped for breath.
For a single heartbeat silence reigned. Then as one, the sea of men around me heaved forward with a great roar. Horses plunged past me. Glimpses of swords raised in challenge and rage-contorted faces amid wild cries of revenge flooded by. They broke around Anise and me as though we were a boulder amidst a sea. The army rushed down into the gully only to be met halfway up the other side by the slower moving wall of Baron Areyuthian’s army.
Despite the roar of battle, the rush of blood through my head, and the unreal touch of shock chilling my limbs, a small thought nagged at me. He isn’t dead. I refused to believe what my eyes had seen, what my dreams forewarned, and what my heart feared to be true. Despite the overwhelming evidence against the possibility, I clutched at the frail hope. Please Kurios, let it be true.
I tightened my grip on my horse’s reins and kicked the poor beast’s flank. He lunged forward, half wild. I clung to his back and fixated on reaching Tomas. Nothing else mattered. Whether I would arrive to discover him alive, dead, or dying, I belonged at his side.
The wind howled in my ears, but I could hear someone calling my name. The steady rhythm of another rider kept pace. I dared not glance back. I urged my horse even faster.
Over the horse’s pumping head, I could see the group of men. Orwin now stood over Tomas. He said something to the man I assumed was Baron Areyuthian. The Baron didn’t respond. His gaze fixed on the battle.
I thundered straight in among them. The hurtling body of my mount drove Orwin scrambling for safety.
Not waiting for the horse to stop, I dropped to the ground a few feet from Tomas’ body. As I fell, I smacked the horse’s flank to irritate it more. The gelding pounded the ground and reared, scattering soldiers before his flailing hooves. In the chaos, I ran to Tomas’ side and slid to my knees in the dirt at his side.
“Tomas.” The sound of his name tore at my raw throat. A sob threatened to break free, but I held it back.
His helmet covered his face. I fumbled for the strap, encountering warm skin. The heat strengthened my hope. My fingers couldn’t move fast enough. An eternity passed before the leather band finally fell free. I eased the helmet off his head.
Dark hair fell free. His head lolled to the side, face toward me. He breathed. The slight stir of air moved past his lips.
He lived.
I found his left hand, pulled off the glove and sought a heartbeat in his wrist. A steady throb pulsed against my fingers. A sob of relief burst forth from my chest. I blinked back tears. No, I couldn’t cry yet.
He bled, a pool of red collecting under his left shoulder. Before I could investigate further, my gaze fell on the mark darkening the left half of his face. Someone had kicked his head after he fell. Rage at my cousin brought my head up just in time to see Anise ride up.
Regal and white with anger to match the wrath burning in my chest, she dismounted with elegant flare. She marched past the scattered men trying to calm my horse and Orwin spouting orders.
“Alonzian Areyuthian, I demand to know why you allowed this…” Anise hurled a slur at Orwin “…to lay hands on your son in such an insidious and dishonorable way.”
I expected the baron to retaliate. Instead he stared at Anise, face slack with shock.
“Anise, what are you doing here?”
“What you should be doing.” Anise spat in the dirt at his feet before turning to me. “Does he live?”
My overtaxed brain began to process her words. Son? Areyuthian was Tomas’ father? But how?
“Brielle, is Tomas alive?” Anise’s voice finally broke through my stuttering thoughts.
I blinked. “Yes. Yes, he lives.”
Clutching the limp fingers of Tomas’ hand, I stared up at the Baron.
“What do you mean ‘my son’? How could he be my son?”
Ignoring Areyuthian, Anise knelt by Tomas’ other side. “Has he spoken?”
“Forget the horse, fools, seize that woman.” Orwin strode past the baron to jab a finger at me. “She will ruin everything.”
An expression of great longsuffering passed over Baron Areyuthian’s face. “No more than you have already done on your own, Lord Wisten. Please cease your yelling.”
“She is a harlot and a meddling witch. She will–“
Areyuthian turned on Orwin. “Hold your tongue or I shall make you hold it.”
Owin’s lip curled. “You answer to me, Areyuthian, not the other way around.”
Areyuthian rested his right hand on the hilt of his sword and lifted an eyebrow.
“Your king shall hear of this.” Orwin finally closed his mouth with a mutinous glare.
Areyuthian turned back to us. “Now, let us begin at the beginning. Anise, how can this man be my son?”
“I doubt I need to explain the details, Alonzian. You were there for his conception.” She gestured to Tomas. “He was born in the spring twenty-eight years past.”
When Areyuthian turned his gaze to Tomas’ face, I reached for my knife hanging from my belt. The feel of the hilt in my palm reassured me. The blade was small. It wouldn’t be much of a threat to a swordsman. But still, it was something.
“Why didn’t you contact me? I would have–”
“Taken him from me.” Anise cut him off with eerie calm. “You were newly married. I saw your wife. She was a sweet thing. I wasn’t about to drag your indiscretion out into the open and flaunt it. It would have broken her heart.”
Shame and regret tugged at the baron’s shoulders. He watched Anise with a strange mixture of admiration, sorrow, and genuine affection. “I could have at least given you some support. Though, from the looks of it, you did well by him on your own.”
“For now, I would be content if you sent for a healer before he bleeds out.”
Areyuthian signaled one of his men to approach.
“Fetch my healer.”
Despite the confusion on the soldier’s face, he saluted and complied.
Orwin’s pudgy features turned florid with indignation. “I must protest! He is a prisoner of war! Just because this tramp claims he is your son–”
Areyuthian drew his dagger so quickly Orwin didn’t even have time to slow his tongue before the tip pressed against the underside of his jaw.
“Do not speak of what you do not understand.” The baron did not raise his voice, but the threat resonated all the more through his cold control. This was a man used to killing. His dark brown eyes sparke
d with anger.
Orwin swallowed with great care. “Should you harm me, your king will see you hanged.”
“That I doubt. King Farian only agreed to this venture because he thought there was nothing to lose and everything to gain. He is not here and my men will say what I tell them to say. Who will be alive to tell your lies then?”
“I have friends in influential places.”
Areyuthian laughed mirthlessly. “That I doubt. Blackmailed or manipulated fools caught in your web of lies and half-truths more like.”
“Baron Storkage.”
Areyuthian flinched infinitesimally. “A fool.” He lowered his weapon. “Keep silent.”
I turned my attention back to Tomas. He still breathed. Movement beneath his eyelids offered hope that he might wake soon. I stroked the back of his hand where it lay in mine and prayed for his recovery. It felt strange for everyone to be discussing him without his awareness. I suspected he would have words to say to his father.
Tomas’ fingers tightened around mine.
The tremors of approaching horses shook the ground.
“Messenger coming, my lord,” one of the soldier’s cried.
“And a healer?” Areyuthian strode to see.
The soldier’s reply was lost in the distant roar of the battle.
Tomas stirred with a groan. Moving his head, he winced at what must be a great throbbing pain. I remembered the sensation well from the first time I was thrown from a horse. Within moments, he was blinking up at me.
“Brielle?” He squinted up at me and then closed his eyes as though not believing what he saw. His grip on my fingers tightened painfully, yet I couldn’t find my voice to tell him. All the words in my head rushed forward at once and none of them made it past my lips.
A kit bag struck the grass at my side startling me from my struggle.
“Let us see how he is.” The healer’s muddy boots nudged the worn satchel aside. “It looks to be on this side. Would you mind moving?”
Extracting my fingers from Tomas’ grasp, I scooted out of the way despite Tomas’ protest.
“Pain?”
Duty: a novel of Rhynan Page 14