Courted Sanctuary

by Tara K. Young

Chapter 24

  The next morning, Luitgard and Justin returned to the blacksmith after breakfast. The skies were still clear but there was a nip to the breeze that had a saltiness to it. The town they were in was not near a port but Justin had said the sea was not far. Whatever the cause, she welcomed the refreshment of this new wind.

  The blacksmith was much more amenable to fitting the shoe now that he had completed his other work. He was finished in only moments and charged enough that even Luitgard knew he deserved a scowl but they would finally be able to return to their task so she did not complain. She did not let Justin complain either.

  He gave the demanded coins to the blacksmith and they turned to mount their horses. Merek was leaning against Luitgard's. His arms were crossed and he was wearing a smirk. The sunlight at his back made his outline glow as if he were a god.

  "Lovely to see you two again," he said. "I am growing fonder of seeing you every time we meet," he added as he looked at Luitgard.

  She knew what he was doing. He would say anything to sew strife. She was sure he was taking great pleasure in the anger that was quite obviously rising in Justin. His cheeks were flushed, his fists had clenched, and he shifted his weight as if he had wanted to lunge. And as much as Justin had made his feelings about her clear, she did not believe this reaction was a simple matter of protective jealousy.

  Whatever his reasons for playing the pervert, Luitgard's heart still beat just as fast as if his threats were backed by full intent. In the absence of her nightmare-induced anger from the previous day and in Merek's actual presence, his threats felt too real. The possibility of killing him felt too remote. She had no skill for fighting. She had never harmed anyone, not even an animal. At that moment, she was impotent.

  "You are taking your time getting to Rome," Justin said.

  Merek shrugged. "I will admit the delays have become rather irritating but it appears there is little that can be done about it."

  "Sorry to be such a bother," Justin said. His fists clenched and unclenched repeatedly.

  "You think too highly of yourselves believing you are the centre of my world," he said.

  Justin did not reply.

  Merek straightened and walked closer. "After everything I have done for you," he said. "The least you could do is treat me with a little respect. I was a father to you when yours was too drunk to know he had a son."

  Justin was no longer intimidated. If anything, Luitgard thought he looked taller. For the first time, she thought he would actually be able to take Merek in a fight. "And who kept getting him the alcohol?" he asked. "I knew it was you. I knew what you did to him. It was you who made sure he drank himself to death."

  "Now, now. Do not blame me for your father's actions. He caused his own death. It is sad that we cannot count on our fathers in this life, but that is hardly my fault."

  Justin scoffed. "Maybe I would have believed that until you told us about Kilchain. Now I know what you did was revenge. And if you would do that all to find some way to get revenge on my great grandfather, then, yes, I do believe we are the centre of your world right now."

  "Not everything is about revenge," Merek said with a smile. "Sometimes that is just an extra treat."

  "Then fight me now, or leave us alone. I'm not playing your games anymore."

  Luitgard took Justin's nearest hand in hers. He squeezed back but he did not look away from Merek.

  "I have no plans to fight you," Merek said. He sneered at Luitgard, "Maybe brawling in the street is how pagans like it but I prefer a more intelligent approach."

  "You prefer the deranged approach," Justin corrected.

  Merek smiled. "Call it what you like but there is an art to what I do." He nodded to Luitgard. "Good-day, little pagan. I will have to show you my work another day."

  He turned and walked down the lane without looking back.

  The nip in the breeze was not refreshing anymore. Luitgard untied the shawl around her waist and pulled it tightly around her shoulders. She thought of her dagger. With Merek insisting upon lurking about, it was not wise to keep it in the saddlebag any longer, no matter how uncomfortable it was to wear it as she rode.

  Before she let Justin help her onto her horse, she reached into her saddle bag. Her fingers wrapped around the ornately carved handle. As she pulled it out, something fell out of the bag and floated to the ground. She looked at her feet to see a thick lock of blond hair tied with a short piece of twine. It was the same sandy blond as Dragonfather's.

  She grasped at it and held it close to her face to get a better look. She spun it between her fingers, looking at all sides. It was the same colour alright. She looked down the lane in the direction Merek had walked. He was gone.

  "What is it?" Justin asked, his brow furrowed as he took in her expression and what she was holding.

  "He does have Dragonfather," she said.

  Justin grabbed the hair and looked it over. "This could be from anyone," he reasoned. "And wouldn't he be in his eighties by now? I doubt he would still have blond hair."

  "He never had a single gray hair," she said, adamant.

  "And that was a very long time ago that you saw him," he countered. "Hair can go completely white in a very short time."

  "You are just trying to find an excuse to turn back."

  "And you are just trying to find excuses to keep going," he yelled. "He is leaving breadcrumbs right into a trap and you are eagerly gobbling them up!"

  "He has no reason to go to all this effort to get me to Rome. He already knows that is where I am going. Why would he bother with all of this? He knows we do not trust him. He is trying to get us to turn back."

  Justin grabbed her face in his hands. "Did you not hear his threat? You will be one of his victims. That is what he wants."

  "He is just trying to anger you and it is working."

  "Of course it is working! But I also know him and even if he is just saying these things to rile me up now, he will carry them out just for the heck of it later. He is an abomination."

  He let go of her face and lowered his eyes. "I'm sorry," he said. "No matter what we do, Merek will have a plan for how to get us where he wants us. He's not stupid. I doubt it even matters where we go."

  She held up the dagger. "At least I will not go down without a fight, no matter what happens," she said as she pulled it from the leather sheath.

  She tried not to take offense when he stifled a scoff. In fact, she found herself smiling. As she went to replace the leather sheath around the blade, her smile faded. There was a nick in the metal near the tip, one that had not been there before.

  "How did that get there?" she muttered as she held it closer to look at it. Her mind ran through when it could even have been out of the sheath let alone been used. When her thoughts halted on the night Justin had gone for a walk, she lowered it to look at him.

  "What were you doing with this?" she asked.

  Unlike most people, who tended to avert their gaze when lying, she had learned right from their first encounter that Justin kept his eyes steady and his mouth shut. When he did exactly that, she turned the blade on him.

  "Tell me right now," she said with the voice she used only with incompetent Goddess Maids.

  "The horseshoe," he said.

  Her heart pounded nearly as fast as it had with Merek. This time, her fear had been replaced by anger. "You took off the shoe?"

  He stared.

  "You could not get your way by talking to me, so you lied?"

  "You would not listen to reason. You didn't seem to realize how far gone you looked. Without rest, you could have died."

  She pressed the dagger against his chest. "Why should I trust you? You priests all seem to love your lies."

  "I am not a priest!" he seethed back. "I did it to keep you safe."

  "I do not need to be kept safe," she growled. "I need someone who will help me. Someone I can trust. I thought that was you." She forced the quaver from her voice. She was the High Priestess of the Mintha
rchs. She was on a mission to save their patriarch. The Goddess herself had spoken to her. She cried for no man.

  "Get on your horse," she ordered. "We are riding as fast as we can to Rome. We need to make up the time your little lie has cost us."

  His cheeks were red, but he kept his eyes on hers. "You can trust me," he said as he pulled away from the dagger. "I swear you can."

  "I guess that is something I will never know for sure," she said.

  When he walked around her horse to get to his, she quickly pressed the back of her hand to each eye. She ignored the wetness upon it as she pushed the dagger back into its sheath and tied it to her belt.