by K. C. May
Jophet glanced at Edan. “Why do you carry it?”
Damn. Gavin didn’t want to tell Jophet the truth, but he refused to lie. Evasion was his best option. “You wouldn’t ask if you’d seen my old sword,” he said with a derisive snort. “So can you help us get Daia out or not?”
Jophet looked again at Edan. “I don’t want to lose my job. Not until I can secure one in the king’s service. Could you, ah, put in a favorable word for me?”
“I’ll make sure he knows you helped us.”
“I think maybe he already does,” Jophet said. He stepped to the side to give Gavin a direct line of sight to the gaol over Jophet’s shoulder. “Look to the right of the building. See the tall hedge? Within the hedge is an entrance to the gaol. It’s locked, but I’ll send the gaol warden to empty the chamber pots. Wait around the corner — you’ll be out of sight there — and go in once he’s passed. Then come through the ward to the front office and get the keys.”
Gavin relaxed his gaze and examined the hazy glow that surrounded the lordover’s captain. Seeing the hazes around people was the first of King Arek’s magical abilities he’d learned after deciphering the first of the five king’s runes. He was still figuring out what the colors and patterns meant, but he learned more every day. He saw no indication of ill intent in Jophet’s haze.
In a loud tone, Jophet said, “Now get going before I arrest you for loitering,” and headed toward the gaol.
Near the horses, Edan was watching the two battlers’ exchange with a curious expression. “What was that about?” he asked as Gavin approached.
Gavin gave Golam a pat. “Edan, I need you to make sure Daia’s horse is ready to ride and Dona and Nasharla are mounted. We’re going to be in a hurry.”
“Gavin,” Edan said in a suspicious tone. “What are you going to do?”
“It looks like she has an ally in the captain.”
Chapter 11
Gavin waited in the hedge as Jophet instructed, with his back against the white stone wall. Soon the door around the corner rattled and creaked open, and a guard placed a brick in the doorway to prop it open. He scurried past, carrying a pair of stinky buckets. Gavin slipped inside and kicked the brick away to let the door swing shut behind him.
The room he entered was dim, filled with buckets, mops, rags and sponges. Beyond the opposite door was a hallway with stone floors and a high ceiling. Metal doors lined both sides of the hall, each with a small window. “Daia?” he called as he peered into each cell. “You in here?”
“Here!” she called. A hand stuck out a cell door opening a few paces ahead, and he went to it. “Gavin. Thank Yrys you’re here.”
“Don’t thank Yrys,” he said. “Thank your friend Jophet.”
“How did you convince my father to release me?”
“I didn’t. Now I need the key. Wait here.” He chuckled as he started toward the door at the far end of the hallway.
“My lord,” someone called. Another hand poked through a cell opening.
He paused and looked in. “Tennara?”
“Yeh, and Hennah’s here too. The lordover’s arresting all women carrying swords in the city. He’ll have your whole guard in here by the week’s end.”
“Damn him. Awright, I’ll take care of it.” The occupants got noisier as he continued up the hallway, men begging to be let out.
Gavin eased the door open and peeked inside the room. Jophet stood at the window with one finger hooking the curtain, looking out. He was alone. Gavin pushed the door open and went in. “Awright, where’s the key?”
Jophet gave him a wicked grin. He held the key ring out, dangling on his index finger. “Come and get it,” he said, his tone like a dare.
Gavin eyed him warily. “What’s this about? I don’t want to fight you.”
Jophet grabbed a chair and broke it over the desk. It exploded into splinters and chunks of wood. Gavin shielded his face with an arm and muttered a curse. Jophet handed Gavin a chair leg. “Hit me with this.”
“You’re jesting,” Gavin said.
“The lordover’s no dunce. Hit me.”
Gavin took the makeshift club but made no move to strike the other battler with it. “Jophet...”
“Hit me, damn it. Make it look real. Knock me unconscious.”
Gavin understood Jophet’s thinking, but the idea of beating an unarmed man unconscious didn’t sit well with him, no matter the circumstances.
Jophet picked up another chair leg and whacked Gavin hard on the arm.
“Ow!”
When Jophet raised his club to strike again, Gavin blocked the blow with his chair leg then hit Jophet at the base of the neck.
“Harder,” Jophet said. “Hit me here.” He pointed to his temple.
Gavin hated this, but he knew it was for Jophet’s sake and Daia’s. If she was going to get out of gaol anytime soon, it would have to be because someone helped her escape, and Jophet would find himself in gaol if anyone found out he’d aided her. He hit Jophet on the side of the head.
The captain staggered and blinked. “Damn. That won’t work. My wife always says I’m hard headed. Guess she’s right.” He took a pewter tankard from the desk and tossed its brown liquid contents onto the wall. “Use this.”
Gavin took it, feeling its solid weight in his hand. “But I might kill you with this.”
“Don’t flatter yourself.” Jophet turned his back to Gavin.
“I can’t hit you from behind.”
Jophet sighed. “Just do it. Make it good.”
Gavin swung the tankard and struck the crown of Jophet’s head. He felt the blow absorbed by the man’s skull, and saw blood soak his hair. Shit! The key ring fell from Jophet’s hand. The man swayed on his feet for a moment then hit his cheek on the edge of the desk as he went down. Blood gushed everywhere.
“Oh, hell! Sorry,” Gavin said. He squatted beside the fallen man and put a hand on his shoulder. Instantly he felt the heat rise to his hand and the healing power flow into Jophet but only enough to stop the bleeding.
Gavin grabbed the key ring and peeked out the window. No one was in sight. He wondered if he should heal Jophet the rest of the way before he left. If Jophet was found with scars instead of cuts, he would be accused of mischief. Gavin didn’t want to leave him there with a mortal wound. He squatted beside Jophet’s still form and lifted his head out of the blood to inspect the wounds. They were closed but not scabbed. Jophet moaned and stirred.
Good enough. Gavin picked up the weapons lying on the desk, assuming they belonged to the Sisters, before closing the door behind him.
Prisoners beckoned to him as he strode down the corridor, keys in hand. Men stuck their hands through the windows of their cell doors, begging him to stop and free them, claiming they were innocent of any wrongdoing.
“What do you know? It’s Gavin Kinshield,” one prisoner said. “Let me out and I won’t tell nobody you were here.”
Gavin walked on without responding. The lordover would probably suspect him anyway.
“Come on, Kinshield,” the man shouted after him. “I’m bound to get out an audience with the chancellor sooner or later. You don’t want me tellin’ him the lordover’s own captain helped her escape, do you? I heard you talkin’ in there.”
“Yeah, and if he don’t tell,” said another, “I will.”
Gavin reached Daia’s cell and met her eyes through the window in the door. He could see by her angry expression that she’d heard the man’s threat. He tried a dozen keys in the lock before he found the one that fit. The lock clicked and he swung the door open.
“My thanks, Gavin. What was all the commotion in there?” Daia asked, jerking her chin toward the front office.
“Jophet was in there. I had to take care of him.”
She blanched. “You didn’t kill him, did you?”
He shot her an impatient look as he headed back up the corridor to release Tennara and Hennah. “I only have one horse,” he said. “I didn’t expect two mor
e riders.”
“Don’t worry about us, my liege,” Tennara said. “We’ll be fine. You two go on.”
Daia rode double behind Gavin on Golam’s back as they galloped to the inn. Edan had her horse ready with a leather satchel strapped to the saddle. As she changed horses, he held her mare steady.
“Listen, Edan, if the lordover tries to make trouble, use my name if you have to. Tell him if he arrests any more o’my guards—”
The sounds of shouting and hoof beats against the stone street drew near. They were coming.
“I got it,” Edan said, giving Golam a slap on the rump. “Go.”
Gavin heeled Golam, and he and Daia headed down the valley and southeast toward Saliria, followed by his two guards.
Chapter 12
Outside the farmhouse, Red was sharpening his sword or whatever battlers did in their idle time. Inside, Brodas opened the cellar hatch, and peered into the blackness below, curious about what antique treasures Tyr might have been hoarding. He lighted the candle and descended the rickety ladder. With each step, the dry, old rungs creaked and groaned, threatening to crack under his weight. Finally at the bottom, and glad of the solid ground beneath his feet, he held the candle in front of him to look around, waving his free arm to tear away the cobwebs tickling his face.
The cellar was empty except for three warped shelves against one wall, stacked with bricks as supports. Various sizes of dust-covered glass jars filled with powders and roots were neatly arranged on the top two shelves. On the bottom was an odd assortment of wooden sticks and feathers tied to them, a jar holding a handful of gems, and a stack of loose papers containing faded drawings and notes. A small leather pouch with a drawstring closure sat on the middle shelf behind a jar of something black and crusty. When he lifted it, it jingled with coin. Nilmarion gold coins, Brodas discovered. At least thirty of them, worth a great deal of money. Well, well, you sly devil.
Hot wax dripped onto his hand. He sucked in his breath, flinching hard enough to nearly drop the candle. Hell’s bones! He drizzled the excess wax onto the dirt floor. That was when he noticed a stone, round and flat, on the ground. Some kind of symbol was carved into its surface. He picked it up, blew the dirt off, and examined it more closely. Could this be one of the Runes of Carthis? His heart began to thump. Its shape somewhat resembled those he’d seen in the Rune Tablet that Gavin Kinshield now had in his possession, but this was not one he’d ever seen before. The symbol resembled two squares, one over the other, and beside it a headless stick figure standing beneath a crooked letter T. There was only one rune mentioned in Sevae’s journal: the Rune of Summoning. Could this be it? The very rune Sevae had used two centuries ago to pit the beyonder champion Ritol against King Arek?
Like everyone else, Brodas had grown up hearing stories about Ritol still trapped in the palace. Many believed that Ritol’s presence was the cause for the continued beyonder invasion. After reading the journal, Brodas had come to dismiss those stories as tales parents told their children to frighten them into good behavior. There was no question that Ronor Kinshield had locked the beyonder prince in the palace shortly before it killed King Arek. Even had Sevae not dismissed it, Ritol would have automatically returned to its own realm on the death of its summoner.
Brodas studied the symbol, letting his mind play. He supposed that in some abstract way it could be construed as a man shaded by a tree or umbrella opening a box. Perhaps the shaded man represented the summoner being protected from whatever powers were in the box. His heart was racing now, as certainty fueled his excitement. If this was what he thought it was, he had the power to bring forth this very champion, exactly what he needed to take the throne by force. Let Gavin Kinshield see how well he fared against that.
Brodas dropped the rune into his coin pouch, held the candle between his teeth and carefully climbed the ladder. All he needed to do now was learn to perform the summoning. After closing the cellar’s door, he dripped wax on the table and set the candle’s base into it to hold it upright. Then he retrieved Sevae’s journal and began to scan for mentions of the rune.
The rune itself was not as difficult to obtain as one might imagine, when one understands the royal family as I do. Though the king’s cousin was of diminished wit, he had the body of a young man and the raging lust to go with it. He would do anything, I discovered, for a peek at his budding sister in the nude. With a small bit of mandrake root in her nighttime tea, I used her to great effect. Her brother, it seems, made quite the thief, and his mental defect put him above suspicion when the king noticed the rune missing. Though I now have it in my possession, it is useless to me without its name, which I will undertake to discover.
Yes, Brodas thought. The rune was useless without the name, but if it was in the journal, he would find it, and when he did, he would call forth his champion and seize his throne.
Chapter 13
With Dona in front and Nasharla taking up the rear, they rode hard for the first few miles, then slowed when they were certain the lordover’s men weren’t on their heels. Gavin hadn’t particularly wanted to begin his relationship with Celónd on a sour note, but the man had worked himself afoam all on his own.
“So you met my father,” Daia asked with a grin. “Charming, isn’t he?”
“Charming isn’t the word I would’ve used.”
“I can’t imagine the two of you would get along.”
“Like a scythe striking stone,” Gavin said with a grin.
Daia laughed. “He’ll ask for an opinion then slam his foot up your backside when you give it. He’s the most arrogant, argumentative, conceited—”
“I got that impression,” Gavin said.
“Which of my sisters did he try to marry you off to? Mildryn? Naome?” A wisp of her dark auburn hair fluttered in the breeze, having come loose from her braid. He realized he’d never seen her hair flowing freely.
Gavin scratched his temple. “Ah, we didn’t get that far. He was too busy kicking me out o’his office.”
“What? You didn’t tell him?”
“Don’t climb up my back, Daia. You don’t know how hard this is.”
“I’m not climbing up your back. I’m defending it. You have your reasons, and that’s good enough for me. I need to know the current situation. I know him better than anyone, remember.”
“He’ll prob’ly shit when he finds out I’m king, huh?” Gavin asked with a grin. “Common buck like me?”
“Yes, he will. Did you really beat Jophet unconscious?”
Gavin put up a hand defensively. “It was his idea. He didn’t want to go to gaol or lose his job over letting you go free.”
“Oh, no,” she said. “If my father discovers he helped you, he’s finished.”
“Don’t worry. I’ll take care of it.”
Daia barked a laugh. “His guards are no doubt scouring the city for us both as we speak. You’re the last person he’ll listen to.”
“Once he finds out I’m the king, he’ll change his song.”
“You’d be surprised. He still won’t cooperate unless he has to.” She grinned. “If you agree to marry one of my sisters, I’m sure he’ll forgive your misdeeds.”
He wondered whether her sisters were as comely as Daia was, though it didn’t truly matter. Since he’d have to remarry, he’d prefer a woman who wouldn’t be put off by his scars or his less-than-kingly habits. He was a simple buck used to a simple life chasing criminals and slaying monsters, relaxing with a strong ale at night, and finding a dry place to lay his head. A lordover’s daughter would find him boorish and unappealing. Daia was proof of that.
She eyed him pensively, tapping her chin. “I think of the two eldest, Naome would suit you better.”
“Do we have to talk about this?”
“She’s a good girl, even if she is loud, obnoxious and stubborn.”
He crooked an eyebrow at her. “And you think that’s the kind o’woman that suits me?”
“All right,” she said, “tell me t
hen. What kind of woman do you prefer?”
Gavin honestly didn’t want to be discussing this with Daia. This topic was better suited to Edan, but Edan already knew his preferences. He’d introduced Gavin to Talisha when they were sixteen. Gavin had known the instant he set eyes on her that she was the one.
“You prefer them quiet and obedient?”
“Hardly. I appreciate all women, no matter their charms.” He eyed her up and down with a sloppy grin. “Even the tough ones who pretend they ain’t really women.”
“Don’t say ain’t. And I don’t pretend I’m not a woman.”
“Whatever you say.”
The sun was sinking into the cloudless western sky when they broke through the trees on Rogan’s property. Gavin’s nephews GJ and Jaesh clacked wooden swords together, laughing and taunting each other. From the way GJ lunged forward and back, his leg looked completely healed. Gavin couldn’t have said he was surprised.
“Uncle Gavin!” they cried in unison, running toward the riders.
Gavin smiled broadly and wondered how he would deliver the news that they were now princes. Or were they? GJ rushed to his side and reached up. Gavin grasped his arms to pull him onto Golam’s back, facing him. The boy’s legs stretched across Gavin’s thighs, and Gavin held him steady by one arm. “My leg’s all better, Uncle Gavin! Papa said you healed me. Is that true?”
He gave a noncommittal shrug. “Could be.” He took the scabbard from his back and passed it to Jaesh. “Take a look at this,” he said, “but be careful. This blade’s much sharper than my old one.”
“Aiy, Uncle Gavin, snakes! This is lofty!” Jaesh exclaimed, taking the weapon. As they continued walking the horses toward the house, he whistled in appreciation. “Look at these gems.”
GJ cast a glance at Daia. “Who’s she?” he whispered.
“Daia, meet my nephews Jaesh and GJ. This is Daia Saberheart.”