The Saints Of The Sword (Tyrants & Kings)

by John Marco

  ‘Hurts,’ he gasped.

  ‘I’m sure. Take that cape off. Let’s at least get you cleaned up.’

  ‘Damn it,’ hissed Jahl. He began removing his cape, carefully pulling it over his throbbing shoulder. ‘We don’t have any water.’

  Ricken cursed, then suddenly remembered the boy down below. ‘I’ll bet our little stranger has some water with him,’ he said. He went to the edge and called down, ‘You boy! Have you got any water?’

  Jahl heard the boy call back a shaky ‘Yes.’

  ‘Taylour, bring it up here. Jahl’s been hurt.’

  Jahl stripped to the waist, then with his dagger began cutting bandages from his soiled shirt. As Taylour climbed to meet them Ricken gave Jahl a mischievous grin.

  ‘Our captive looks like a scared rabbit,’ he whispered. ‘Not much threat from him, I don’t think.’

  ‘Who the hell is he?’ Jahl growled. The pain from his wound was making him irritable, and he was glad to hear the boy was uncomfortable, too. ‘He’s just a kid. What’s he doing with Shinn?’

  Ricken obviously had no answers, so he didn’t even take a guess. He just waited for Taylour to arrive with the water, then took the skin and doused Jahl’s wound. Jahl grit his teeth, surprised that such a small wound could hurt so much. While Ricken worked, Taylour hovered over Del’s body, stricken by the sight. Jahl kept thinking of poor Alain.

  ‘All right, that’s enough,’ he said, pulling away from Ricken. ‘Let’s get it wrapped so we can get out of here.’

  He picked up one of the bandages and handed it to Ricken, lifting his arm so that his companion could wrap the wound. Ricken repeated the process three more times. Then, finally satisfied with his handiwork, he sat back and inspected the wound.

  ‘That should do,’ he pronounced. ‘Just don’t ride too hard. When we get back I’ll want to wash it again and get some fresh bandages on it. Get your cape. Taylour and I will carry Del down.’

  Jahl got up and slung the cape over his shoulders. ‘Put Del on his horse and get ready to ride. I’ll go see our friend.’

  At the bottom of the ledge, Parry guarded their young prisoner with a drawn sword. The boy had dismounted and was standing beside his horse, and when he saw Jahl slide down the rocks to approach him, he bit his lip and took a step backward. Jahl stalked after him. Behind him, Ricken and Taylour were dragging Del’s dead body down the slope. Jahl jerked a thumb over his shoulder, pointing at the corpse.

  ‘You see that?’ he asked the boy. ‘That’s a friend of mine. He’s dead now, thanks to you.’

  ‘I didn’t do anything!’ the boy protested. ‘It was Shinn!’

  ‘Yes, and what the hell were you doing with Shinn? You want to tell me?’ Jahl came very close, scrutinizing the boy. With his white hair and thin features he was peculiar looking, and almost familiar. Jahl was about to ask his name when a realization hit him.

  ‘Oh, Lord,’ said Parry, coming at once to the same conclusion. ‘You’re Leth’s son!’

  The boy held up his hands in surrender. ‘Don’t be afraid, please. I’m alone. There was nobody else with us.’

  ‘Are you Leth’s son?’ Jahl demanded. ‘Are you Alazrian?’

  ‘Yes,’ admitted the boy. He squared his shoulders and returned Jahl’s glare. ‘And I’m not afraid of you, Jahl Rob. I know you. You’re an outlaw.’

  Jahl laughed. ‘An outlaw? Yes, that’s what you would call me, isn’t it? Well, let me tell you something, Alazrian Leth. You should be afraid of me. Because if you don’t tell me what I want to know, I will slit your throat from ear to ear.’

  The boldness drained from the boy’s face. ‘What do you want from me?’

  ‘I want answers,’ snapped Jahl. He took a step closer to Alazrian. ‘You’re going to tell me what you’re doing here. But first you’re going to come with me.’

  Jahl turned and strode away from the boy, ordering his men to mount up. ‘Get on your horses,’ he shouted. ‘We’re heading home. You ride with us, Alazrian Leth. And if you even try to escape . . .’

  He let the threat hang in the air. They all took to their mounts and Jahl Rob led the sad procession back to the stronghold. Just behind him was the horse burdened with Del’s body flanked by Parry and Ricken. Behind them rode Alazrian, with the sharp-eyed Taylour on his heels. It was a long ride back to the stronghold, but Jahl didn’t mind. It gave him time to think, to consider the best way to face Alain and to decide what to do about their young captive. Elrad Leth would certainly send troops into the mountains after his son, wouldn’t he? Jahl considered the possibility. Why then had Shinn tried to kill the boy? There were a thousand questions and no answers, and Jahl hoped Alazrian would cooperate. Otherwise . . .

  No, he told himself, half laughing. He would never hurt the boy. Whatever the young Leth’s role was in all this, Jahl knew he would have to discover it diplomatically, and hope that the boy’s appearance didn’t mean disaster.

  By the time they reached the outskirts of their mountain home, Jahl’s shoulder was smarting. The bandages Ricken had arranged were holding, but the blood was starting to soak through. Soon they would need changing. But there was work to do first, one particularly dreadful job. When he sighted the winding road leading to his stronghold, he noticed a young boy waiting there for him. His resolve collapsed like a waterfall.

  ‘Alain,’ Ricken whispered.

  ‘Keep moving,’ Jahl told them. There was no hiding from Alain now, and it was better to face Del’s brother quickly and get it done. Jahl was glad that Alazrian Leth was with them. There was a lesson in this for their captive. ‘Leth,’ he called over his shoulder. ‘You see that boy ahead?’

  ‘Yes,’ Alazrian replied.

  ‘That’s the brother of the man you killed.’

  ‘I didn’t kill anyone,’ Alazrian protested.

  ‘He’s the last son of the House of Lotts. His name is Alain, and he’s twelve years old.’

  Alazrian raced forward, glowering at Jahl. ‘It wasn’t me,’ he railed. ‘You saw yourself. Shinn killed your friend. I won’t let you blame me for it.’

  But Jahl was in the mood to be ruthless. ‘It’s all the same to me, Leth. Now I want you to see what good came of your patrol. That was it, wasn’t it? Weren’t you looking for us?’

  ‘Well, yes, but—’

  ‘So you found us. Congratulations.’ Jahl pointed toward his keep, a collection of high peaks and caverns on the south side of the run. ‘You see? That’s my home. That’s what you and your father have driven us to.’

  ‘You’re wrong,’ said Alazrian bitterly. ‘I’m nothing like my father.’

  Jahl wasn’t listening. He trotted his horse closer to the waiting Alain, saying, ‘Come along, boy. There’s bad business to attend to.’

  Alain didn’t wait for them to come to him. The youngster sprinted forward, first with a look of glee, then with a face of unspeakable dread. Jahl watched him tallying up the riders, spotting the dead body slumped over the horse and not seeing his brother anywhere. Jahl steeled himself. To his shock, Alazrian stopped his horse and dismounted, holding up a hand to Alain.

  ‘What are you doing?’ Jahl asked, bringing his own horse to a halt. Others were gathering in the road now, fellow Saints who had seen the party arriving. Alazrian ignored them all, concentrating only on the horror-stricken Alain.

  ‘Alain Lotts,’ he called to the boy, ‘my name is Alazrian Leth. Your brother is dead.’

  ‘Leth!’ Jahl protested.

  Alazrian Leth took a step closer to Alain, who was walking slowly now, dragging his feet. Alain’s brow wrinkled; he was on the verge of tears.

  The young Leth’s tone was comforting. ‘He died well, defending his friends,’ he told Alain. ‘I want you to know I had nothing to do with his dying. Please believe that.’ Then he shot Jahl a glare. ‘No matter what you hear.’

  ‘Dead?’ croaked Alain, slowly approaching his brother’s horse. When he reached the body he inspected it in disbelief. ‘No. That’s
not possible . . .’

  ‘I’m sorry, Alain,’ said Jahl. The priest dropped from his horse and went over to the boy, sliding an arm around his shoulders. He could feel Alain begin to tremble. ‘It’s no one’s fault. Least of all Del’s.’

  ‘Del,’ Alain moaned. ‘Del . . .’

  He started to weep, great wracking sobs that came up from his chest. With both hands he grabbed at his dead brother, shaking him, trying to force him awake. Jahl took hold of Alain as gently as he could, wrapping his arms around him, letting him cry.

  ‘I’m sorry,’ he whispered, kissing Alain’s head. ‘I’m so sorry.’

  ‘Who did this? Who killed Del?’

  ‘Easy,’ Jahl soothed. ‘Easy . . .’

  ‘What happened?’ Alain demanded. He tried to break free of Jahl’s grip, to go back to his brother and shake him awake. ‘Tell me who killed him!’

  Jahl Rob held on to Alain as tightly as he could, letting the boy’s wails fill his ears and his tears strike his chest. He said nothing about Shinn or the Talistanian soldiers, nor did he blame Alazrian Leth for Del’s death. It was all pointless now, anyway. As Alain dissolved into sobs, Jahl glanced at Alazrian and saw that he, too, was weeping.

  Alazrian sat alone in the corner of the cave apart from the campfire and the men gathered there. It was very late now. He could see the sky just beyond the silhouettes of his captors, dark with night. They were very high up in the mountains, in the same peaks he and Shinn had spotted earlier. A melancholy pall had settled over the stronghold. The men around the fire, at least a dozen of them, hardly spoke. None of them talked to Alazrian or offered him any of their food. They simply ignored their prisoner, leaving him relatively unguarded in the corner of the cave. Alazrian supposed they were waiting for Jahl Rob. The thought of facing the priest again didn’t leaven his mood. Jahl seemed like nothing more than a small-minded pirate, a wild brigand who might just deserve the wound Shinn had given him.

  ‘Shinn,’ grumbled Alazrian. That bastard had tried to kill him because his so-called father had ordered it. The old hatred boiled up inside Alazrian. He imagined Leth back in Aramoor playing cards with Shinn and laughing as the Dorian explained how his ‘son’ had been captured, and quite likely killed by the Saints. Or maybe Leth simply thought Jahl Rob would hold him hostage. That idea frightened Alazrian. It was the first time he’d considered it, but it suddenly seemed possible. Maybe Rob would try to ransom him. If so, he wouldn’t get a penny out of Elrad Leth. Alazrian wrapped his arms around his legs, drawing himself into a ball and lowering his chin to his knees. He was tired and hungry. The smells from the cooking pots made his stomach grumble. He considered asking his captors for food, then dismissed the idea. He didn’t want to appear weak. That was what they wanted.

  It wasn’t until much later that Jahl Rob reappeared. Alazrian had fallen asleep on the floor of the cave, but the entrance of the priest awakened him. The fire still crackled a few yards away, and as Alazrian opened his eyes he noticed Rob squatting down by the fire, whispering to the handful of men who remained in the cave. The priest glanced over at Alazrian, said a few more words to his companions, then picked up a bowl and fished a ladle-full of food out of one of the pots. The thought of food immediately started Alazrian’s stomach rumbling. He sat up, supposing that Rob had ladled the stew for himself. But Jahl Rob surprised him. He left the fire and strode toward the corner where Alazrian waited, his face unreadable in the orange glow. The priest had changed his bloodied clothes and now appeared perfectly fit, as though Shinn’s arrow had never touched him. Remarkably, the men around the campfire all rose and left the cave, leaving them alone.

  ‘You must be hungry,’ said Jahl Rob. ‘Here.’ He handed the bowl down to Alazrian who eagerly accepted it, but he didn’t eat. Instead he looked at Rob suspiciously. The priest rolled his eyes. ‘It isn’t poisoned,’ he snapped. ‘Just eat. I know you’re hungry.’

  ‘I am,’ Alazrian admitted. He glanced down at the bowl, picked up his spoon, and took a mouthful of the stew. It was flavorless and thin, but it was also hot and remarkably welcome. Alazrian offered Rob a grateful nod. ‘Thank you.’

  ‘You must be cold.’ Jahl turned and walked toward the flames. ‘Come and sit by the fire.’

  ‘I’m fine here.’

  ‘Well I’m not. Come on.’

  Alazrian took another two spoonfuls of stew before following Jahl. The priest sat down next to the fire, tossing a few more sticks onto it to build the blaze. The flames were warm on Alazrian’s face, a welcome respite from the hard, cold stone of his corner. He lowered himself to the ground, sitting next to Rob but not too close. Rob watched him eat. Alazrian didn’t let the intrusion spoil his meal. He emptied the bowl in a few more spoonfuls, occasionally glancing at his captor. Jahl Rob was an impressive man for a priest. He was muscular, neither young nor old, and he wore his hair loosely, as if he’d never seen a comb. Alazrian didn’t know what to think of him.

  ‘You and I have much to talk about,’ said Rob finally.

  It wasn’t a question, so Alazrian didn’t reply. The priest put his hands up to the fire to warm them.

  ‘It gets cold up here, even in springtime,’ he said. ‘Tell me something, Leth. Why did you go to Alain when you saw him?’

  Alazrian laid aside his bowl. ‘Seemed like the thing to do.’

  ‘But you wept when he wept,’ observed Rob. ‘I’ve been thinking about that.’

  ‘Why?’

  Jahl Rob rubbed his hands together and shrugged. ‘Just curious, I suppose. I was very angry at you. But I was wrong to blame you for Del. It was Shinn that killed him, after all.’

  ‘I’m glad to hear you admit it,’ said Alazrian. ‘Shinn is no friend of mine.’

  ‘Oh, I believe you. He was trying to kill you, wasn’t he?’

  The question surprised Alazrian. How much did he want to tell the priest? But it seemed senseless to refute the point, so Alazrian nodded. ‘Yes. It seems that Elrad Leth wants me dead. I guess I’m still not man enough for him.’

  ‘Your father told Shinn to kill you?’

  ‘He’s not my father. And thank God for that.’

  Then Alazrian realized what he’d said and glanced away from Rob, hoping to end the conversation, but the priest stared at him. Alazrian knew that he had opened a gate and wouldn’t be able to close it.

  ‘Ah, what does it matter?’ he grumbled, picking up a stick and tossing it angrily into the flames. ‘You’re going to find out everything anyway. I’m trapped here. I can’t go back home, and I can’t do what I came for.’ He made a fist and punched the ground, frustrated and afraid. Jahl Rob would find out everything he wanted to know because it made no sense to hide it anymore. Suddenly, nothing in the world made sense.

  ‘Am I your prisoner?’ he asked. ‘Are you going to kill me the way you did Viscount Dinsmore? Or do you want to ransom me? Because if that’s your plan—’

  ‘Easy,’ said Rob. ‘No one is going to kill you. We’re not murderers.’

  ‘Right. Tell that to Dinsmore and the others.’

  ‘We’re freedom fighters,’ Rob retorted. ‘Dinsmore got what he deserved. I know, because God told me so. And killing you wouldn’t serve any purpose. So just calm down. I have questions for you.’

  ‘What questions?’

  ‘Many things,’ said Rob. ‘But first, tell me who you are.’

  ‘You know who I am.’

  The priest shook his head. ‘No. I know what your name is. But I don’t know who you are, Alazrian Leth.’

  ‘Oh,’ Alazrian murmured. ‘You mean my father.’

  ‘That’s right. Do you know who your real father is?’

  ‘Yes,’ said Alazrian. He smiled feebly at the priest. ‘But it’s sort of a long story.’

  ‘I have time.’

  ‘What will you do with me?’ asked Alazrian. ‘Will you send me back to Aramoor?’

  ‘Ah, now you play games with me, boy . . .’

  ‘No. It’s just something
I think I should know. You’ve had some time to think about it. So? What have you decided?’

  Jahl Rob scowled at Alazrian. ‘I know nothing about you, and if you don’t tell me soon maybe I will send you back to Aramoor. Would you like that? Then Shinn can finish his handiwork.’ The priest leaned forward. ‘Tell me who your father is. Tell me why you and the others came here.’

  ‘We came to find you,’ Alazrian answered, avoiding the first part of the query. ‘Isn’t that obvious? After you killed Dinsmore, my father . . .’ He corrected himself. ‘Elrad Leth, I mean, got angry. He sent Shinn and the others to find your hiding place. They mean to send more men in after you.’

  ‘And did they?’ pressed Jahl.

  ‘Did they what?’