* * * *
AFTER THREE HOURS riding due north, the sun went from warm to uncomfortably hot and bright, making the air sticky. Andrixine felt it beating on her unprotected neck. Tears stung her eyes for the loss of her long, glossy hair.
"Rixy, want down,” Alysyn said, beginning to squirm.
"We can't stop right now, I'm looking for a spring so we can wash."
"Down now. Need the nessi,” she insisted, her voice pained.
"All right.” Andrixine halted Grennel, wrapped an arm around her and swung out of the saddle. Once on the ground, she tugged on the knot of the shirt's arms to release the girl. When Alysyn needed the necessary, she had to use it immediately.
Alysyn toddled into the woods for the nearest convenient tree. Andrixine was relieved her sister didn't need help. One more demand would break her. She leaned against Grennel's flank and closed her eyes. Now that she stood still, sleep leaped at her like a huge, smothering animal.
Grennel snorted, his muscles quivering under her hand. She struggled alert and turned, blinking, trying to see down the curving, shadow-speckled trail where he looked. His ears pricked forward, swiveling to catch sounds that escaped her dulled ears. Andrixine glanced toward the trees, just making out the top of Alysyn's curly head, then back down the trail. She saw nothing but green and shadows and slanting pillars of sun.
She heard whistling. That meant someone who knew the trail so well he had no fear. Or, someone with enough confidence in his sword arm he feared no one. She reached for her sword and rubbed again at the more stubborn bloodstains on her hands.
Alysyn stepped from the trees as a man came around a bend in the trail. She saw nothing and came directly to Andrixine, holding out her arms to be lifted into the saddle.
"In a moment, poppet. We have a visitor.” Andrixine handed the rag shirt to the child and moved her closer to Grennel. The stallion would protect her sister and not step on her.
"Hallooo!” the approaching figure shouted. He picked up his pace. “Well met. Where are you coming from?"
"The inn, about three hours back.” Andrixine knew her mind wasn't up to subterfuge.
"By the looks of you, the night wasn't pleasant,” he said, grinning at her disheveled, weary state.
"It was attacked in the night. My sister and I barely escaped with our lives."
"Attacked?” The man stopped short. He was close enough to be seen clearly. All brown—hair, beard, clothes, and tanned skin. He carried a sack slung over one shoulder and a short sword at his belt. “Any other survivors?"
"There was a lady and her maid. They're missing with the innkeeper and his wife. I assume they were taken for ransom."
"Yes, likely.” The man looked her and Alysyn up and down with quick, sharp eyes. “Is there much left?” He stopped when Grennel snorted at him.
"Both the inn and the stable burned."
"You salvaged plenty.” He gestured at Grennel and the bundles tied to his saddle. Another step, hand outstretched, and he stopped when Grennel bit at him.
"Only what belonged to us."
"Belonged?” He snorted. “A fine stallion like this, belonging to a filthy boy like you?"
"Try to take him and find the truth,” she answered, softening her voice as her father did when he faced a potentially dangerous opponent.
"Perhaps I will.” He smiled. “I doubt those braids belong to you any more than the horse. They must both be earned.” He shrugged, using the motion to fling his sack from his shoulder and whip the sword from its scabbard.
Andrixine leaped in attack, drawing her sword before he could lunge. He let out a roar of shock at her quickness. Andrixine slashed at him. He ducked and stumbled backwards, his arms flung outward to save his balance.
She advanced, a double-hand grip on her sword for extra weight when she swung. He yelped and managed to bring his sword back around to block a stab at his chest. The swords rang against each other, sending a shock of contact up Andrixine's weary arms. Her whole body ached, but she pressed on. This was no drill where she could slow the pace until she gained her second wind.
He stumbled over a boulder hidden by grass and weeds to land on his back across the top, grunting, the wind knocked from him. Andrixine came down with a hard stroke, making the sword an axe. He brought up his knees and rolled off. Her sword hit the rock with a loud clang, followed by a snapping crack. Grennel echoed the sound with a scream and lunged forward, teeth bared at the man as he leaped to his feet again.
Andrixine's mouth dropped open in a silent cry of dismay as she stared at the broken blade. The vibration went up her arms, joining the throbbing in her head. She leaped backwards, raising the stump of the blade in defense—but her attacker had fled. Grennel took two more steps after the man, then snorted and turned back to her.
Alysyn shrieked. Andrixine ran to her, stomach twisted in knots of fear. But when she reached her and snatched the child up in her arms, the little girl screamed laughter.
"You won!” Alysyn wriggled in her arms, beating on her shoulders with tiny slaps of delight.
"Poppet,” she whispered. It occurred to her to be grateful she hadn't had to kill the man.
They had to get away before he realized she had broken her sword, and returned. Even with Grennel so willing to defend her, she couldn't let that happen. She stuck the stump and broken blade into the scabbard to at least look like she could defend herself.
"Hold on tight now,” she ordered as she swung up into the saddle, Alysyn still in her arms.
She tied the shirt around the child as they rode at a slow trot. Then, securely fastened together, she sent Grennel into a gallop. The wind beat at her face, and the trees rushed past. Andrixine sent up a prayer of gratitude that her attacker had fled in the opposite direction.
Noon came and went, and they rode. Andrixine gave Alysyn an occasional mouthful of wine and some cheese, and cracked nuts for her on the saddle with the handle of her knife. She forced herself to eat bread and cheese; she needed food despite her stomach's protests.
When the sun touched the tops of the trees straight ahead down the narrow slit of the trail, Andrixine decided it was time for a true rest. If she remembered landmarks correctly, Maysford was only an hour or so further down the trail. She knew what a picture they made. If anyone recognized Grennel or Alysyn, they might recognize her despite her short hair and filthy clothes. Until she reached Snowy Mount, no one must know she and Alysyn had survived. A certainty filled her that someone had attacked her family, specifically. Brother Klee and the healers at Snowy Mount believed she had been poisoned. Could it be the same enemy, willing to destroy their entire traveling party to get at her? But why? And who?
She slowed their trot to look and get her bearings. Grennel snorted and stepped off the trail. She tightened the reins, prepared to fight him as he moved into the underbrush and shadows. Then the idiocy of it washed over her. The stallion had shown such good sense so far, why couldn't she trust him now? She knew she had to find a hiding place soon, rest until night, then continue down the trail and hope no one would see them.
"What Gwenny doing?” Alysyn murmured around a nutmeat in her mouth.
"I don't know, sweetling.” Pity for the child flooded her, and Andrixine didn't know whether to laugh or cry. Her sister had played the “game” all day with a vengeance, staying quiet when she usually chattered about everything. Alysyn had to be sore from the long hours in the saddle, despite the padding.
"Need the nessi, Rixy."
"Me, too. Let's find a spring. I want to wash and drink. Grennel needs a drink, too. Do you want a bath?"
"Want Mamma."
"Mamma wants you, too.” Andrixine swallowed a sigh. She knew her luck had been too good for too long. “But we have to follow the rules of the game before we can go home. You don't want to cheat, do you?"
"No.” She sounded uncertain.
Grennel halted, stopping whatever she might have said next. He snorted and shook his head, turning to watch them wi
th one eye. Andrixine straightened in the saddle and looked around. Saplings and bushes surrounded them. The stallion had found an animal trail into the forest. She patted his neck in approval.
"Just a little longer,” she said to horse and child. “Hold on, poppet.” She untied her sister before dismounting, leaving Alysyn in the saddle. Her legs felt boneless and she clung to the stirrup without shame. When the ground steadied under her feet, she brought Alysyn down. “Now for you, my valiant soldier,” she whispered, turning to Grennel.
Her fingers wanted to tangle as she struggled to remove saddle and blanket. The stallion stood still, never twitching a muscle until she had all his tack removed. He nosed Andrixine when she moved a step away from him. She looked down the length of his flank. His normally glossy coat was rough with sweat and dirt and burrs, worse than a plow horse. She knew what he deserved, but her whole body cried out in protest at the thought.
"Alysyn...” Andrixine shook her head. She couldn't ask her sister, even if the child could have reached high enough to groom the stallion. Lord Edrix raised his children to be responsible for their possessions. After such a hard day, it would be cruel to leave Grennel hot and dirty and not groom him.
"Thirsty.” Alysyn tried to tug the wineskin free of the traveling hook on the saddle.
"That's right. See if you can find a spring, will you?” She dug through the bag hanging from the saddle until she found the water skin and gave it to her sister. As the child trotted off, she added, “Don't go too far. If you think you're lost, call for me."
She watched the girl move through the underbrush until she was only a blur of dirty white smock and reddish curls. She breathed a sigh of weariness, then turned to Grennel.
She had to take off her boots and remove some rags packed in around her feet to have something to rub down the stallion. Not until she stood in her bare feet did she realize how hot they had been. Andrixine reveled in the cool dirt and grass under her feet as she groomed the stallion. The sensation soothed, giving promise of rest.
The exercise and rhythm of working on the horse's coat helped loosen tense muscles, and she soon approached a quiet state in her mind—half exhaustion and half a sense of accomplishment. The frantic, wordless prayers that had buzzed inside her head all day finally quieted. The three of them were safe, they had food, they had purpose, they had a safe place to rest; they had a plan. The present was provided for and the future, she sensed, would be taken care of just as well.
Andrixine pressed on, refusing to let her eyes close until Alysyn came back and they were totally secure in their hiding place. As she rubbed, she tried to form her thoughts into something more coherent than she had managed all day, a prayer mixed with a plan. She knew Yomnian would understand what she needed and wanted to say, even if she couldn't seem to put the words together.
Grennel was nearly done, only two legs waiting, when Alysyn stumbled back through the bushes. Andrixine kept working.
"Did you get the water?"
"Bath,” Alysyn pronounced. There was pride in her voice and something tight, perhaps angry.
"Bath?” She turned.
The child was dripping wet. Little drops gathered at the ends of her ringlets and fell to her shoulders or the ground with tiny plops. Alysyn held up the sloshing water skin, grinning.
"Oh, very good.” Andrixine took the skin, then knelt and hugged the child. “You smell good, too. Poppet, you play the game so well, I'll ask Father to give you a pony when we get home, so you can learn to ride. Would you like that?"
"Pony? Like Gwenny?” Alysyn flung her arms around her sister's neck.
"Maybe not like Grennel, but close.” Andrixine untangled herself and saw a flicker of anger. “What's wrong?"
"Bad people."
"What bad people?” She brushed a damp curl out of the child's face, wondering where she was going to find a comb.
"At the water. I was good like Mamma said. I said hello and cur—coo—” Alysyn gave an angry little sigh and demonstrated her bobbing curtsey. “They won't talk to me."
"At the water? Show me."
Andrixine reached for the sword still attached to the saddle at her feet, forgetting it was broken until she felt the unbalanced scabbard. Perhaps the sight of the sheathed sword would be enough protection. Taking Alysyn's hand, she gestured for her to lead on.
The spring lay only a dozen steps down the trail. The smell of water had likely made Grennel stop here. Andrixine knew she would never have found the spot otherwise.
Two filthy, rag-clad forms sprawled against a tree a few paces from where the spring bubbled up into a natural cavity in the ground. Andrixine paused at the edge of the clearing, holding Alysyn's hand to keep her back. The quiet felt wrong. No birds sang close by.
"Alysyn, go to Grennel. Now,” she added, forestalling any protest. Andrixine waited until the sound of her sister's footsteps faded away. “Well, and how did you get here?” she whispered, stepping around the spring to the bodies of the innkeeper and his wife.
They had been stabbed, the dark stains of blood hardly visible in their grease-blackened rags. Both wore staring surprise on their death-frozen faces. No struggle, no fear, no anger. Andrixine didn't like the possible explanation.
She knelt next to the man and gingerly examined the body, hoping for some clue. The cold of death didn't bother her here, as it had when she carried Cedes to her funeral pyre. Under the body she found a gold coin.
"That explains a lot, doesn't it?” she said to the corpses.
* * * *
KALSAN RELEASED THE hands of the village girl as the music ended and stepped back to sweep her a bow. She was tiny and blonde, smelled of apple blossoms, and her hands were soft where he held them in the spins and side-steps of the dance.
He couldn't remember her name, and that bothered him. He smiled at her, but when she smiled, inviting another dance, he found he didn't have the stomach for it. Three dances in the square outside the tavern had been enough.
Around him, other Maysford girls danced with sweethearts and travelers, the music provided by a harp, drum, flute and lute. Night fell in a splash of gold and purple sunset, edged with a silver and rose twilight. The air smelled of civilization—roasted meats, hot cider, bread and cherry pastries. He had a real bed tonight, a full stomach and a clean body for the first time in two weeks.
Kalsan didn't know why he felt so restless, why nothing satisfied for very long.
Maybe it was the sight of the tavern keeper's daughter with a love knot of blue thread twined into her jet-black curls. She was promised to Brick, the smith. Kalsan hadn't expected her to wait, so why did it bother him?
Maybe not losing her, he suspected, but the happiness and pride in Brick's face when the tall, red-haired blacksmith came to claim his sweetheart for the first dance.
Maybe the restlessness came from dreams of the maiden with the sword. He recognized her from the sense of longing, the soft humming like a harp in the air when she touched the edges of his dreams. Sometimes he saw her eyes, dark with sorrow, and it tore him apart to know she could be hurt. Kalsan had an impression of dark auburn hair, a slim body and little else. He wanted to find her. Maybe that longing poisoned his careless enjoyment of any pretty girl who would dance and laugh and kiss among shadows.
"Tired, lad?” Jultar asked, as Kalsan approached the well in the middle of the cobbled village square. The warlord had settled down on the bench that circled the well, out of the traffic of the dance yet close enough to watch.
"I don't know.” Kalsan managed a chuckle as he settled down at his master's feet.
"Not tired of civilized living already, are you?"
"Some parts, maybe.” He gestured at the dancers. Kalsan had always trusted Jultar with thoughts he couldn't share with anyone else. “The last few months, all I wanted was to dance with a pretty girl when we returned to Reshor. Why does it bore me?"
"You want more than just any pretty girl in your arms, or any sweet lips to kiss, I think."
"Think on it, lad,” the older man said with a chuckle.
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Chapter Three
ANDRIXINE WOKE STIFF and muddle-headed, blinking into the shadows, smelling the hot, green, bitter odors of plants that had baked all day in the heat. She lay still, wondering where she was, how she had come to be there.
Her cheek hurt. She sat up and rubbed it. In the shadows, she saw a knob of root where her head had rested on bare dirt. The torn saddle blanket underneath her had bunched up and moved toward her feet.
"Alysyn?” she whispered, her voice a croak of panic and renewed harsh aching.
Andrixine crawled across the tiny shelter of leafy branches she had fashioned against the afternoon heat. Her head ached with the effort of memory. Then her hand came down on the soft warmth of her sister's arm. She followed the arm to the rest of the body and gathered the child up against her shoulder.
"Wake up, poppet. Time to go.” She rubbed Alysyn's back.
From the color of the slice of sky seen through the branches, it was not too far into the evening. Her sense of time had not failed, even in her aching stupor; she had awakened when she wanted. Andrixine breathed a prayer of thanks as she crawled from the shelter.
Grennel greeted her with a snort, coming up behind her to nuzzle the back of her neck. Andrixine smiled at the familiar, comforting touch. She jostled Alysyn a little to hurry her waking. As she took deep breaths of the cooler air, she tried to study their surroundings. Nothing stirred beyond the expected sounds of the forest animals in transition from day to night.
"Rixy?” Alysyn scrubbed her eyes with her fists. “Hungry."
Andrixine felt like laughing. “Go on to the spring and drink and wash up. We'll eat on the way.” She set the child down and patted her behind to get her moving.
"Those bad people gone?” she asked with a frown.
Heir of Fain [Faxinor Chronicles #1] Page 4