by Matt Heppe
One direction seemed lighter than the other. Nidon swam. It took all his will to deny his body a breath. His vision darkened, but still he fought upwards.
Chapter Twenty-eight
Maret spent her morning pacing her room. Her back and neck were sore from the brutal handling she had received when Grax hauled her from the moat. Thoughts of the event had ruined her sleep as well.
She tried not to focus on her near escape. Instead she put all of her attention on the children. They seemed no worse for the previous day’s happenings. They were napping now, and Maret was alone with her thoughts. She wished that one of them was awake, and almost laughed aloud. During the harrowing journey from Long Meadow she had spent most of her time just wishing they would sleep.
The servant Renae was gone. In her place a scullery girl named Cynna had been sent to assist Maret. But with nothing to do, Maret had sent her off. The mouse of a girl barely spoke a word beyond “yes” or “no” and had no idea how to act as a lady’s maid.
Maret had asked about Renae, but Cynna claimed she knew nothing of what had become of her. Maret feared for what Grax would do to Renae if her full role were found out.
Or maybe he has.
Maret had flung both windows wide in the hope an occasional breeze might break the stifling heat. The bailey was quiet. She saw Idorian mercenaries on the walls and the keep’s small garrison on the towers.
There had been some activity late in the morning, when Captain Saunder and two men had ridden out of the gate under a flag of truce. They had ridden back a short time later, but no one paid her any heed. She had half hoped Saunder would come to her, but her wait had been in vain.
She turned at a rap on her door. At least they knocked softly. She rushed to the door before they could knock again. Opening it just a crack, she peered into the dark hall. Cynna stood there beside one of Baron Tomar’s men-at-arms, the one named Keth, she thought, and Kael. Both were fully armed.
Pulling the door wider, she smiled in greeting to Kael.
“Lady Maret,” the man-at-arms said, “Baroness Alma requests your presence in the great room.”
Maret’s mind raced. It had to do with Captain Saunder’s brief departure, she was certain. Would she be freed?
“I’ll watch the little ones, my lady,” said Cynna.
Maret smoothed her dress. “I am not presentable,” she said, wishing immediately she had not spoken. She did not want to delay the news.
“You look wonderful, Lady Maret,” Kael said. “No need to wait.”
She gave him a quick smile of thanks. “I will be only a moment.” She backed into the room, letting the maid in with her. They quickly brushed her hair and put it under a cap and veil.
“They only just fell asleep a short time ago,” she whispered. She didn’t want to leave them. “Just mind them until I return.”
“Yes, my lady.”
Maret joined the two soldiers in the hall. Keth led them past the stairs to a hallway she had not yet been down. “Kael, why did Captain Saunder go out earlier?”
“There was a parlay.”
A glimmer of hope rose in her chest. “What came of it? Will I be freed?”
“I wish I could tell you, but I don’t know.”
“How did Captain Saunder appear? Pleased?”
Kael gave a short laugh. “I don’t think the captain will appear pleased until we return to Idoria. He’s had enough with foreign adventures.”
“You can’t tell me anything?” She hated being at the mercy of her captors. She wanted to know. She wanted to do.
“I am sorry, Lady Maret.”
It was not a large keep, and they soon arrived at the great room. Great room is a little kind. Perhaps fifty guests could dine in the hall. Tall, narrow windows let in light. They were set high on the wall, so that someone outside would not be able to see in. A walkway ran beneath the windows so that crossbowmen could shoot out, although there were no defenders there now.
Baroness Alma sat in a heavy, stuffed chair at the end of the hall near a cold fireplace. Tomar’s valet, in full harness, stood beside the chair. He wore a coat-of-plates over mail and carried a pole-axe. Another man-at-arms stood a little further back.
Baron Grax was in the room as well. As was Captain Saunder. Both wore full harness. The two men stood well apart from one another. Grax gave Maret a brief nod in greeting. She looked away without acknowledging him, resisting the urge to rub her sore neck. At least she could take some comfort in the bandage wrapped around his head. His ear would never be the same.
Baroness Alma smiled and waved Maret closer. Maret approached and curtsied. The Baroness wore a fine gown. She had to be sweltering.
Kael had taken station behind Maret, while Keth joined his companion behind the baroness.
“Welcome, Lady Maret,” Alma said. “We are all here now. Let us begin.”
“Baroness Alma,” Grax said. “I must object to the presence of Lady Maret.”
“I will not hear of it again.” Alma raised her hand to stave him off. “Her son is the rightful heir to the South Teren. She will be a great lady when her son takes his place on the ducal dais.
“And now I wish to hear the current state of affairs.” Alma turned to Saunder. “Captain, I have held my anticipation in check long enough. Tell me of my husband.”
“The Landomeri claim to have captured him, Lady Alma.” Saunder glanced at Maret and then back at Alma. “They wish to exchange him for Lady Maret and the children.”
Grax took a step forward. “Which—”
“Is he well?” Alma cut Grax off with a glare.
“They said only that he has a broken leg.”
“Did they say anything else?” Alma sat forward in her chair, her hands clutched together. “Did he have a message for me?”
“Only that he had agreed to the exchange.”
Alma sat back in the chair. Her gaze went to Maret. “And, Captain, what do you think of this exchange?”
“Lady Baroness, you ask his opinion before mine?” Grax said.
“Captain Saunder is the commander of my defenses. And,” she gave him a thin smile, “I already know what you are going to say.”
Grax drew a breath to speak, but apparently thought better of it.
“You have hired me to defend this keep,” Saunder said. “Accepting this exchange will end this siege and render my task accomplished.”
“You would turn them over after working so hard to rescue them?”
“Rescue?” Maret said. “I was not rescued!”
Alma looked at Maret and shook her head. “My poor dear, what have the Landomeri done to you?”
“Baron Grax and Captain Saunder seized me from my friends and dragged me through the forest. They risked the lives of both children. They tried to kill my closest friend. There is more if you would hear it.”
“You didn’t want to be rescued?”
“What rescue?” Maret burst out. “I loved my life in Long Meadow.”
“I told you before,” Grax said to Lady Alma, “Lady Maret has become quite confused in her time in captivity.
“I beg you, Lady Alma,” Maret said, “Free me. Free the children. The siege will be over and your husband will be returned to you. My life as a Saladoran lady is over. It ended when Baron Grax’ nephew raped me and did this to my face.” She threw her veil back. “I wish to live among the Landomeri where I am loved and my child is safe.”
Grax shook his head. “You understand what I am saying now, Lady Alma? Lady Maret would be the dowager Duchess of the South Teren. Her son would be the most powerful man in the wealthiest duchy of Salador. And she would give it all up to live barefoot in a poor village in the forest.”
Maret turned on him. “The Landomeri are not poor!”
Grax laughed. “They don’t even use money.”
“There are other riches than money.”
“Enough, enough,” Lady Alma said, putting her finger tips to her temples. “Lady Maret, you honestly wis
h to live among the Landomeri?”
“I do.”
“And Captain Saunder, you are certain the Landomeri will lift their siege if the exchange is made?”
“I am certain of it. The Landomeri have left the town untouched. They are not here for plunder or profit.”
“Perhaps we should accept their offer then.”
“Meaning no offense, Baroness Alma,” Grax said, “but there is no we in this decision. They are my prisoners.”
“Prisoners?” Alma asked under arched brows.
“Wards,” Grax said. “Why are we being so hasty? Relief is on its way. Our allies will arrive and drive off this rabble in a matter of days.”
“And what will become of my husband when the fighting starts?”
“They have no reason to harm him.”
“That is hardly assurance.” Alma threw her hands up in a gesture of surrender. “If we make the exchange I can be assured of his safety.”
“Maybe a counter-offer could work,” Saunder said. “We could offer them the girl child, Enna. She is the only true Landomeri of the three. It is her mother and her companion who caused us so much difficulty.”
“It won’t work,” Maret said. “Orlos is a spiridus. The Landomeri will never let him go. You must release us all.”
“A spiridus. Really?” Alma shook her head. “Perhaps your time with the Landomeri has touched you a bit.”
“It wasn’t just two Landomeri who attacked,” Maret continued. “It was the forest itself. It was the animals and even the trees.” Her glance went from Grax to Saunder. “Tell her.”
Grax shuffled, but didn’t speak.
“There is magic in the forest,” Saunder said. “I saw things I never would have believed.”
“Offer them the girl,” Grax said. “They will not accept, but we can delay them. Keep them talking until relief arrives.”
Alma looked to Saunder. “What do you think, Captain?”
Saunder paused in thought. “It costs me nothing if they agree. There will be no fighting while we negotiate, so I will lose no men. And the longer this goes on, the more I get paid. If relief does not arrive, or if it is defeated, we can always go through with the exchange at a later time.”
“Agreed,” said Grax. “Although our relief force will not be defeated.”
“And what if we are assaulted? What is the state of our defenses?”
“Baroness,” Saunder said. “I have forty-seven able bodied men with which to defend your keep. My own men are well armed and armored veterans of many battles. I assume that Baron Tomar saw to the training of his own men.”
“They are well trained,” Alma said. “They were constantly training at the pell.”
Maret looked from one to other as they spoke. Would the Landomeri dare an attack? With the exception of Hadde, she didn’t think she’d ever seen a Landomeri in armor. Certainly not full harness as worn by Saladoran knights. Not even as much as the Idorian mercenaries wore. How many Landomeri would die in an assault on the castle’s walls?
“The keep is well constructed,” Saunder continued. “Although the fallen section of wall is of concern. The palisade built over the fallen section is not well suited for defense.”
“It was to be repaired soon,” Alma said, opening her hands as if to show they were empty. “It was a matter of money.”
“It should have been done,” Saunder said. “You are paying me more than you would have paid to repair the walls. I will have to put a strong force on that section of wall if we are assaulted.”
“The Landomeri will not risk an assault,” Baron Grax said. “They will assail us with archery, but cannot storm the walls.”
“You are certain of that?” Alma asked.
He gave a gruff laugh. “They have no armor. Few have weapons beyond their bows and knives. They will be cut to pieces.”
“You are wrong, Baron Grax,” Maret said, seeing a chance to sway the conversation. They all turned to her. “The Landomeri are fanatical warriors. And to them, my son is a Great Spirit. You did not see the way they worshipped him in the forest. They will throw themselves upon your men and drag them down. They will sacrifice themselves so that their companions may stab them through their visors.”
Alma sat back in her chair, her eyes wide in shock. “The Landomeri? We live close to them. They are great hunters and archers, it is true, but I have never seen this ferocity you speak of.”
“You live near the tame Landomeri,” Maret said. “They have become almost Saladoran in their ways. The western Landomeri are fierce. They drink the blood of their enemies and think it gives them strength.”
“Really?” Grax said. “And you want to be returned to them? These blood drinkers?” He dismissed Maret with a wave of his hand. “We took them easily enough when we rescued you and your son.”
Maret thought fast, glancing from Grax to Saunder. Saunder looked at her, his face unreadable.
“How many times did you think Hadde dead?” she asked. “How many men did she kill? And now you have hundreds of them facing you, each as fierce. And their men are here now! How much harder will their men be to kill if their women are like Hadde?”
“Is it truly this dire, Captain Saunder?” Alma asked.
“They are tough. They are excellent archers.” He gave Maret another look and then shook his head. “But I’m not certain of this fanaticism. I am more concerned about the gap in our wall, and the poor state of our supplies.”
“We can last forever on horsemeat,” Grax said. “The bailey is filled with horses, each eating a huge weight in grain.”
“If it comes to that, you will pay a heavy price for each mount, baroness.”
“It won’t,” Grax said. “Our messenger got away. Relief is coming.”
***
Hadde put her hand on Baron Tomar’s forehead. “You’re hot,” she said. He was lying in bed, no longer sitting up as he had been before. An uneaten meal sat next to him.
“My wound has gone bad. I need my physic.”
“Has a healer been here to see you?” Hadde asked.
Tomar nodded. “When does the exchange occur?”
Hadde glanced at her father. “It isn’t going to occur. They sent a counter offer. They will exchange only my daughter for you.”
Tomar grimaced, closing his eyes for a moment. “Could I have some water?” Tomar asked. Hadde gave him a horn cup and he drank it down. “They play for time. They think the siege will be relieved.”
“It won’t.”
“In enough time it will. They will gather a force you cannot resist.”
Hadde glanced out the window to the bright afternoon sun. He was right. Reinforcements would come and drive them off. We could trade Tomar for Enna. At least we would get her.
“We will storm the keep if we have to,” Arno said.
Tomar coughed and then took another drink. “A lot of you will die. I have been a friend to the Landomeri. I don’t want you to suffer.”
“So what do we do to avoid that?” Arno asked. “How do we get them to give us our friends back?”
“Give them some motivation,” he said, closing his eyes. “Put a little fear into them. Not a full attack. Just let them know you are serious.”
Hadde’s eyes met her father’s and he nodded. “We will let you rest,” Arno said.
The two Landomeri departed the cottage, walking out to a brilliant, hot afternoon. “How shall we motivate them?” Hadde asked. “We have agreed to a truce. You never should have given them so much time! I knew I should have gone to the gate with you.”
“I have an idea,” Arno said, holding his hand up to stop her. “Let’s visit the keep.”
They mounted and rode to the village, but instead of entering, they turned off the path and rode toward the keep’s outer wall. Arno kept them well out of crossbow range.
It was hard to imagine they were at war. The Landomeri outside the walls had hidden themselves so well Hadde had difficulty spotting them. The keep’s defende
rs, after the first night of arrows, kept out of sight as well.
Except for one location. At the broken section of wall, men were at work reinforcing the wooden palisades. “The men working on the palisades are breaking our agreement,” Arno said. “We agreed to take no action while the truce was in effect. Improving their defenses will kill Landomeri when it comes time for an attack. We need to undo the work they are doing.”
Hadde’s eyes narrowed as she watched the men work on the palisade. She liked what she was hearing. She wanted to take action. “How?”
“With fire.”
Chapter Twenty-nine
Nidon struck his head on something solid as he burst to the water’s surface. Pain exploded in his right eye and cheek and for a moment the world spun. He snatched a breath before a wave plunged him under the surface again.
He pushed upward, his hands held high. They touched something. A plank floating in the river. He had smashed his face against it as he surfaced. The pain was terrible, but it was still a stroke of luck. He clung to the board, and surely would have sunk without it.
The churning, thrashing river threatened to overwhelm him and yank the board free. From above, the thunderstorm dumped sheets of wind-driven rain on him. Nidon clutched the board for his life.
He kicked as hard as he could. Distance was his friend. Once the storm passed, he was a dead man. A crossbowman on the wall, or one on a galley would see him, and it would be over.
The river tossed and turned and for a dozen heartbeats it seemed the river’s claws would drag him into the depths. With all his strength, Nidon held the board, glad for the moment that he wore no armor, or even shoes. He had to escape the whirlpool. His strength was fading and he would find himself trapped in the swirling current, battered by waves until his grip on the board failed.