Thief

by Jane Glatt

the healer, I saw him dead.” She grasped Kane’s hand and gripped it hard. She wouldn’t, couldn’t bring herself to tell him how much pain his uncle was in.

  “Is it Thorold?” His voice was soft in the night.

  She nodded. “And one other. I don’t know who but I can feel your uncle’s hatred for Duke Thorold.”

  “Can … can you do anything for him?”

  “Like what?” She looked up unto his grim face.

  “My uncle is a soldier,” Kane said. “He would want to die cleanly. Thorold will not let him have that death. Uncle Feiren would not want to betray the Brotherhood.” Kane loosened his grip on her arm and looked away. “Ever.”

  Brenna closed her eyes and reached for Feiren. Her body stiffened at the shock of shared pain. She was dimly aware of Kane beside her, holding her tight. Then she focused all her awareness on his uncle.

  “Feiren” she called out. A feeble answer led her deeper, until she could reach him completely. Then she was in his sword, she was his sword, connected to him by the blood that dulled her bright shine.

  “Feiren, it’s Brenna.”

  “Oh lass,” he moaned, “you’re safe, I know you’re safe.”

  “I’m safe,” she agreed. “Kane asked me to release you in the only way I can. He asked me to give you a clean death.”

  “Yes.” His reply seemed clearer, as though he took strength from the knowledge of a quick death. “Thorold and Valden can’t win. I can’t betray the Brotherhood.”

  Brenna felt herself being moved. A hand gripped her and her steel edge slipped into Feiren’s soft flesh. Instinctively she surged from the sword to the flesh, feeling the blood well up as the skin of another finger was cut. She flowed up Feiren’s arm, automatically numbing the nerves and halting the pain. She felt his whole body relax with relief.

  “Are you sure?” she asked.

  “Yes, yes, yes.” Came the reply

  Brenna glided to Feiren’s heart. It still beat strongly. Gently, she slowed the rhythm until it stopped. She coursed through his body, soothing him. For a brief moment she and Feiren shared his mind before he faded from life. She looked out of Feiren’s eyes at his tormentors, detached from anything except her anger. Then she opened his mouth and spoke.

  The sword cut into a second finger and then suddenly stopped. Valden jerked on the blade but to no avail. Thorold stepped closer and heard the prisoner’s last breath. He half turned to admonish the High Bishop. Then Rowse’s eyes opened and he looked directly at him with one green eye and one brown.

  “Grandfather.” The voice that came from the dead man’s lips was high and thin, not at all like Feiren Rowse’s. “This death I lay at your feet, along with that of my mother.”

  And then the life went out of the eyes and once again they were brown. Valden lost his grip on the sword and it slipped and shattered on the stone floor, its many pieces scattered among the blood of its owner.

  Thorold backed up, his hands shaking. The High Bishop’s face was pale and his lips were bloodless.

  “Witch,” Thorold spat. That witch. She’d ruined his chance to find out more. He’d teach her to meddle. Wherever she was, he’d find her.

  “Witch,” Valden repeated. “Rowse was a witch. We need to scour them from Soule. Blasphemers.”

  Thorold ignored the High Bishop. He only cared about the death of one particular witch. Let Valden start a holy war. It might be useful to let the church run the witches to ground, including the Duchess of Aruntun.

  Kane hugged Brenna tight as she sobbed into his shoulder. She finally fell asleep shortly before dawn and he simply held her as she slept. She hadn’t told him all of it, he knew. She thought she was saving him, but the truth couldn’t be worse than his imagination. She’d said his uncle had welcomed death but her eyes had been haunted.

  Uncle Feiren. Kane’s chest tightened and gulped in a breath. It didn’t make losing him hurt any less, but his uncle had died in service to his king. Even if the king didn’t know it. He knew. So did Brenna. He cradled her in his arms as he watched the sun rise above the Seven Sisters.

  Kane woke up with a start and looked around their camp. The fire had burned out. The horses were picketed a few feet away and munched on what grass was left within reach. Brenna still slept curled against him. He couldn’t have been asleep for more than an hour, but it had been his watch. He could not afford to put them at risk like this.

  Gently he slipped out from under Brenna and laid her down. He covered her with his blanket and brushed her hair from her face. She looked exhausted. Her face was pinched and worn even in sleep. He stood and stretched his stiff muscles. Being Captain of the Kingsguard had made him soft. A few hours sitting on the ground and he could barely move. He looked over at Brenna. He’d let her sleep for a while yet.

  Kane quickly had the horses saddled and most of their gear packed. He’d made a small fire in order to boil some water and now he took one steaming mug and knelt beside Brenna.

  “Brenna, wake up.”

  She slowly opened her eyes. Kane knew the moment sleep fell away and the realization of what had happened returned to her. She sat up and hugged her knees to her chest.

  “Here’s some tea,” he said.

  “Thank you.” Her voice was quiet and she turned her head away from him.

  Kane retrieved his own mug and they sipped their tea in silence. When Brenna refused to eat, he silently packed the rest of the gear onto the horses. She’d talk when she was ready, he hoped. Right now he had to get her to safety. They should be able to make it to Aruntun today, but after their late start it would not be until after dark.

  Gently Kane helped Brenna mount Blaze and they headed east. Shortly after noon, they stopped at a small mountain stream. Kane dismounted to refill their water skins. Brenna pulled her pack out and rummaged through it.

  “I can get you something to eat,” Kane said. He handed Brenna’s full water skin up to her.

  “No thanks,” she said. She took the skin and held it against her temple. “This helps though.”

  “A headache?”

  “A bad one. Ever since …” Brenna’s voice trailed off and she hung her head. She pulled something out of her bag. “I’ll chew on this. It will help.”

  “Let me know if I can do anything,” he said.

  Kane mounted Runner and looked back over their path. The rolling foothills spread out below him. Now that their path was elevated they’d be more visible to any pursuers. He’d try to keep to the valleys. He shaded his eyes and looked east. Yes, they should be able to skirt the main peaks and keep to the foothills the whole day.

  Kane had just turned to Brenna when a quick flash made him stop. He squinted in the sunlight and focused on the path behind them. There, he saw it again. There was definitely something metal on the trail behind them.

  “Brenna,” she turned dull eyes his way, “can you check for old steel?” She looked so weary that he hated to ask her, but he needed to know.

  “There’s some behind us,” she said through clenched teeth. “It’s Barton.”

  “Barton.” Kane’s heart sank. He’d caught up to them already. “With any luck he hasn’t seen us. Can you tell if there’s any more old steel?”

  She grimaced and then shook her head. “No, there’s only his sword.”

  “Is there any up ahead?” he asked.

  Brenna shook her head. “I can’t tell. There’s none in Fallad, and Aruntun has a kind of fog over it.” He grunted in surprise and she looked at him. “I noticed it last night for the first time.”

  Kane nodded and kneed Runner to a walk. Brenna fell in behind as he led them down and away from the rolling peaks. He headed for a rocky patch he’d seen from above. He couldn’t do anything about their muddy prints at the stream, but hopefully they’d lose their trail on these rocks. It would be slow going for them, though.

  “Can you keep track of Barton? I need to know if he gains on us.” Kane turned in his saddle and frowned. Brenna sw
ayed, her eyes closed. “Brenna.” She opened her eyes with a start. “Brenna, you need to stay awake.”

  “Sorry, but my head aches worse than after the Brotherhood meet.” She sat taller. “I’ll keep an eye on Barton. Don’t worry.”

  Kane nodded and turned back to the trail, his face grim. He wouldn’t let her fall behind. Whatever the cost to him, she had to make it to Aruntun.

  Brenna struggled to keep up with Kane. She knew they were traveling slower than he wanted, but at times her head pounded so badly she could barely stay in the saddle. The willow bark she’d chewed had worked a little, but continuously checking for old steel soon brought her head ache back in full force.

  Kane was leading them in a looping route, mostly through the wooded areas where the rolling hills and valleys met. Riding straight through the valleys would have been easier, but they would have been too exposed. Brenna didn’t mind the extra work spent avoiding tree limbs and rotten stumps. The coolness under the trees gave her some small relief from the throbbing of her head.

  She took a quick look for Barton’s sword.

  “He’s still the same distance behind us,” Brenna said. She gritted her teeth against the backlash of pain.

  Kane nodded and slowed down so she could catch up to him.

  “Are you all right?” he asked.

  “I’ll be fine. As soon as we reach Aruntun.” Despite her headache, the closer she came to Aruntun the more energy she seemed to have. Now, as the sun finally edged towards the hills to the west, she