Ishar looked at Lysandr with bleak eyes. “All I have is my word, my honor, and the actions of the time I have spent among you. During that time, how have I proved myself untrue?”
Indecision ruled their faces.
Rayne shoved past Davaris. “See! She seeks to divide us. Lysandr, let Kagon kill her before she destroys us from within.” He glared at Traevyn. “The silver lies of her work can already be seen. The seeds already bloom.”
Lysandr stepped forward. For a moment Ishar feared his next action. However, the Raanan only glared at Kagon with a determined look. “Remove the knife.”
“You would have her escape justice?” Kagon stated with a sneer. His grip tightened.
“I did not say I would release her,” Lysandr stated with rising anger in his voice. “Varyk is our lord. She will be held for his judgment and his alone. Retribution will not be chosen by us.”
“Eira is our lady,” Rayne said stiffly as he came to stand next to Lysandr. “Let vengeance be ours.”
“Kagon, I will not say it again,” Lysandr said softly.
Ishar felt the knife remove itself from her throat. Rayne gave a grunt of displeasure, shifted around Traevyn and Davaris and came forward. Ber stood his ground but at the motion of Lysandr’s hand, moved aside and let the warrior past. Rayne’s face was a mask of hate as he roughly ran his hands over Ishar’s clothing, yanking with rage at her weapons. She endured the abuse in silence. Now was not the time to show defiance. There were too many people here with vengeance on their minds.
When Rayne was done, he turned to Lysandr. “Where do you want her taken?”
Lysandr moved between Rayne and Ishar. “I will take her,” he said roughly as he took her arm and pulled her from Kagon’s grip. “She will be put in the fortress holding room and shackled to prevent her escape. Varyk will decide her future after we see whether Eira lives or not.” He turned and looked at the crowd, which had grown more dissatisfied with every word. Shouts of anger arose from within the group. For a second she feared the people would stop his actions. Lysandr said nothing. He simply yanked Ishar forward and shoved his way through the crowd.
Ishar tried to keep her balance as she stumbled through the group of soldiers. She felt minor shoves and a kick that tripped her as she made her way with Lysandr. They moved beyond the crowd and through the inner gate.
The Raanan was silent until they neared the fortress. “I would advise you do nothing stupid like running right now,” he muttered. “There are too many people who want you to, too many who want you dead, and I am not certain I could stop them if they tried.”
“I believe the question is, would you want to?” She asked calmly, even with a sinking feeling of dread.
Lysandr’s abrupt halt yanked her to a stop. He turned a deadly glare her way. “Do not,” he stated low and angrily. “I cannot think right now. All I can see is Eira, bloody and unconscious, slumped across her saddle as her mare came through the gate.”
Ishar closed her eyes and shuddered at the image.
Lysandr continued up the steps, dragging her through the main door. He ordered a light as they entered and a servant appeared and followed with candle in hand. They maneuvered through several hallways. As they came along beside the stairs Lysandr continued on, pulling her farther down the hallway. He came to a door. Ishar noticed a rung with a several keys hung from a hook beside it. Lysandr grabbed the ring, pushed the door open and shoved Ishar through the entrance.
She whirled and faced him. “Lysandr. Please. Let me speak to Varyk.”
“Varyk stays by Eira’s side,” Lysandr stated through gritted teeth. “I am not about to disrupt his grief at her severe injury by telling him the possible assassin wishes a moment of his time. I would not insult my lord in such a manner.”
Ishar stared at him, her heart wounded by his words. “I tell you—”
Lysandr put up his hand. “No. I will not hear your lies.” He grabbed her hand and lowered it near a shackle whose chain extended to the wall.
She resisted him. “Lysandr. Please do not do this. I beg of you. Believe me.”
He looked down. “Do not fight me.” Lysandr glanced up. “I will call for help if necessary and trust me when I say I am sure Kagon or Rayne would find no difficulty in coming to restrain you.” He glanced up, his dark eyes searching hers. “I do not know whose hand played what in this turn of events. All I see speaks to me of your guilt.” Lysandr stepped closer. “But if you truly are innocent, then know this: Varyk is a just man, not prone to rash decisions.”
Lysandr shackled one wrist and locked it with a key. Although every fiber of her being struggled against the action, Ishar did not resist. The shock of what was happening had settled upon her. He stood up and stepped back. At least he had not shackled both of her hands. Ishar cast Lysandr a bitter gaze. “What happens if you cannot keep Kagon or Rayne in line?” Her eyes roamed the damp stone room. “There is no recourse for me here except to be slaughtered like an animal if they come for me.”
His eyes narrowed. “I can keep my men in line,” Lysandr ground out savagely. “I would think you have more with which to worry yourself.”
Ishar eyed him with resentment. “Such as?” She asked with clenched teeth.
Lysandr stepped close. “Such as,” he muttered tightly, “what your explanation will be to Varyk concerning how several of your arrows wound up in Eira.”
“I have told you. I did not do this? Someone must have taken them from my room.”
For the first time, Ishar shivered at the animosity she saw burning in Lysandr’s eyes. She wondered if Rayne or Kagon were the only Raanans from whom she should fear retaliation as she watched a veil drop from before Lysandr’s face.
He reached up with his hand and shoved her against the wall. Lysandr sneered. “You would have us believe the attacker comes from within our own midst? Who else could have gotten hold of one of your arrows?” Lysandr’s hand crept up until it closed around her throat. “Perhaps Rayne is right and I should kill you now before you sow enough discord among us that we shed our own blood in the growing confusion.” He stared at her, perplexed, as if trying to understand a riddle set before him. “Why are you here, Haaldyn? What are your intentions?”
Ishar stiffened. “My intentions,” she stated firmly, “have not changed. Peace and a unified Alsaar. You are correct though, Lysandr. There is someone who is trying their best to see that this does not occur.” She nodded sadly. “And you are helping them by these actions.”
Lysandr laughed but there was no joy in it. He stared at her incredulously and stepped back. “Do you have a clue what would have happened if I had let you go, let you freely walk among the people of your own free will?” Lysandr shook his head. “You would be dead before the afternoon was over, before night had a chance to fall.” He waved a hand. “Whether it was Kagon, Rayne, or a large group, someone would have seen to your death. There is too much love for Eira here.” He gave another bitter laugh. “I have actually saved your life by bringing you here, inside.” Lysandr turned and made his way to the door. “Hopefully Varyk will be able to deal with this soon. However, even if he does allow your freedom, if no sure assailant is found and brought to justice, this may well finish whatever peace you were trying to bring about. No one will accuse their neighbor, which will only leave fingers pointed directly at the Haaldyn.” He paused, his hand motioning the servant back through the entrance. “For what it is worth, I am sorry it has come to this, Ishar. I truly had hoped for the words you spoke when you came to be true.” Lysandr moved out behind the servant.
The door shut with a clang. Ishar heard the key turn in the lock. He did not believe she was innocent. Ishar felt with her hand for the wall. When she found it, she settled on the floor and leaned back. Ishar hugged her legs and placed her head on her knees. Depression settled on her as quickly as the darkness.
*
Lysandr turned the key in the lock and hung the ring on the wall. He turned, and paused. The flickeri
ng light from the candle illuminated the presence of Traevyn who stood waiting in the dark hallway. Lysandr’s gray eyes narrowed. He motioned to the servant. “Return to your work,” he ordered. The servant bowed, handed over the light and moved past them down the hall. Lysandr set the light on a jutting piece of stone and faced Traevyn. “What are you doing here?”
“You think she is guilty,” Traevyn accused. “I heard your words.”
Lysandr raised an eyebrow. “You are not so certain yourself that she is innocent of this charge.”
Traevyn’s jaw tightened. He shook his head. “I cannot believe it of her.”
Lysandr moved closer. “Does your mind tell you that or your heart?” he murmured softly.
Traevyn’s expression narrowed mutinously. “You go too far, Lysandr.”
“I go too far?” Lysandr stated incredulously. “Your attentions toward Ishar have been noted by more people than I. I do not think you are able to make a sound decision concerning her future. Rayne was right. She does divide us. The judgment we now have to make, has it been done purposely?” He shrugged. “I am not certain you can do that, Traevyn.”
Traevyn glared. “I have fought beside you through these years and never given you opportunity to doubt my honor toward Varyk or any of you.” He slid close enough that both men now stood eye to eye. “Why do you start now, brother?” Traevyn’s voice shook with anger.
Lysandr looked aside. “I will not argue with you.” He glanced back, his speech insistent as he continued, “I speak so you will know if you go around so easily proclaiming her innocence when what information we have points to her guilt, you will find yourself at odds with the other men and the people of this holding.”
“It does not make sense,” Traevyn muttered. “I have seen the evidence, but how can it be true? Ishar has worked so hard at bringing a message of peace and a united Alsaar. Why would she do this?”
“Maybe so we would be at odds with one another,” Lysandr stated with a shrug. “I do not know. You see her earnest desire for peace. I question that it is planned action on her part, and you, the fool taken in by her allure?” Lysandr shook his head. “You would rather me believe that someone from this holding is set upon our destruction? Such talk will only lead to mayhem. I will not let that happen,” he said with determination.
Traevyn stepped back and leaned against the wall. He cast a frustrated gaze at Lysandr. “What will happen to her?”
“I spoke the truth outside. I will let Varyk decide her fate,” Lysandr answered.
“And what is to keep her safe from those minded like Kagon or Rayne? How do we protect her against their wrath?” Traevyn asked.
“By placing her where I have,” was Lysandr’s reply. “Allowing her continued freedom would have jeopardized her life even more.”
Traevyn shoved his fingers into his hair. “And now you have trapped her in a place with no paths out but one. It might make her easy pickings for a killer if there is truth in the speech she gave you.”
“She has yet to prove to me that there is,” Lysandr said shortly. “But by all means,” he added with a touch of irony, “Find this person, give me the evidence I need to set her free or provide protection. As to the other people in this holding or the men, none will dare go against the word I have given. It can only be broken by Varyk and even I will abide by his choice and words.” Lysandr picked up the candle and motioned. “After you,” he said shortly.
Traevyn hesitated. “Can I see her?”
Lysandr shook his head. “From this moment on, only the servant who brings her food will be allowed to enter. The only exception will be when Varyk comes to question her. Besides that, no one else may enter.” Lysandr stood in the hallway watching Traevyn and waiting.
Traevyn glanced one more time at the door. His jaw tightened, but then he turned slowly and moved down the hall. Lysandr followed.
*
It amazed Ishar how quickly time slipped away. Without windows to see the passing of day, time became indeterminate and with no candle to light her surroundings, the rustles and squeaks moving about her presence unnerved her. She had spent many a night in an adverse location while out scouting against the Lute with her warband, but never as a prisoner and she found it an undesirable alternative. Ishar rubbed her free hand over her face and tried not to think about what might be moving next to her on the cold stone floor. The rattle of the chain was a constant reminder that she could not even move about the room freely. She judged it had at least been some time since Lysandr had put her within these confines.
Desiring other thoughts to dwell on, Ishar turned her mind to the evidence that had placed her here. Apparently Eira had ridden out of the holding during the day some time after Ishar had left. And along the way she had been attacked and hit with two arrows. Two Haaldyn arrows. More to the point, two arrows that were personally hers, Ishar thought with a groan. They could have been taken at any time. She always kept her arrows in her room with her other weapons when she had no use for them, but there had been several times when she had set her arrows and bow down to study other soldiers after a practice. It would have only taken a few spare seconds for someone to remove arrows and walk away. And any number of people could have entered within the fortress walls to gain entrance to her room and personal effects. Eira had no need for wariness.
Thinking of the Lute woman, Ishar was grateful Eira had managed to make it back to the holding. She wondered if that had been intentional on the part of the assailant or a loose end. Whoever Eira’s attacker was, they were crafty enough to throw blame where it would do the most harm. The question that remained was simple: was Eira the main victim of this attack or had she been used simply to undermine the peace Ishar had been sent to initiate?
There was a clunk and the metal lock in the door turned. The heavy wood creaked opened and a glowing candle preceded the woman who entered. For a second the brightness blinded her and Ishar blinked painfully against the harsh light. When her vision cleared a moment later it was to see Isla, who cast a vicious smile in her direction. She held a tray with a cup and a plate of what looked like bread. Ishar felt her stomach respond to the sight. Her mouth salivated at the thought of any liquid for her dry throat.
Isla watched her a moment before she spoke. “Now this is a fitting sight: a Haaldyn in her rightful place, chained and in the dirt.” She leaned over and spat in Ishar’s direction, “Though Rayne and Kagon were right. It would have been better to slit your throat for what you did to my Lady Eira.” Her eyes narrowed to slits. “Still, I look forward to seeing them drag you from this place and hanged from the walls so your Haaldyns may see what happens to those who intend us harm.” Isla chuckled maliciously. “There is already talk of it, you know. I would not get too comfortable. I feel your stay with us is close to an end.”
Ishar had held her tongue for as long as she could. “I am not Eira’s attacker, no matter what you may think,” she said in anger. “There is another out there who is at this moment gloating over what they have achieved and it is not me,” Ishar insisted. “I would never have harmed your lady.”
Isla’s eyes were cold. “Tell your lies to someone who will believe them. I am not that person.” Isla took the cup from the tray and held it out to Ishar. Ishar rose, but before she could reach for it, Isla dumped the contents out. The liquid splattered across the stone floors. Isla’s expression never wavered. “What a shame,” she murmured softly. She placed the cup upon the tray and set it on the stone floor, “Your meal.” The plate contained only a large torn piece of bread. Ishar looked down where the food was set near Isla’s feet. Before she could react, Isla reached out and kicked the tray. The bread scattered into two pieces and rolled across the stone floor. Isla gave Ishar a derisive stare. “Enjoy your food.” She looked around with a studied glance, “If the rats do not get to it first.” Without another word, she went out. The door slammed shut and Ishar heard the lock turn.
The room was plunged into darkness. The little witch, Ishar
thought vindictively. She sighed, tired and frustrated. Suddenly the thought of eating diminished. Still, it was sustenance. Ishar knelt and fanned her hands out in the direction she envisioned the bread had fallen. Her fingers ran atop stone. She continued to spread out till the shackle on her left hand stopped her. Ishar reached out with her right hand and felt as far as she could. Her fingers felt a crust of bread only a second before she brushed across fur. Ishar snapped her hand back with a jerk. The last thing she needed was a bite to add to her worries. The desire to eat the bread died. Though still hungry, Ishar crawled back to the wall and hugged her legs. When she stilled, she could hear the movement of the rats eating her food. Her stomach growled in response.
She tried to think of possible adversaries but quickly lost track of time. Exhaustion crept over and so she slept, curled tight for warmth against the cold damp of the room. The slightest noise or brush of a rodent against her body brought her awake and up on her elbows as she listened with wariness to her surroundings. She feared what the next opening of the door would bring. This was not the way that Ishar had envisioned her death, alone without her warband, defenseless, a prisoner at the whims of her captors. After a while, she simply stayed awake, nodding off for small moments of time.
The creak of the door unlocking brought her awake. Ishar sat up and looked at the light entering the room with painful blinking eyes. She groaned inwardly at the sight of Isla who shined her light into the room. Ishar looked around. There was no sign of her bread. She glanced back. Isla laughed. “Did you share your food last night, Haaldyn? Were the rats good company?”
Ishar bit her tongue to keep from lashing out. She eyed the tray held in the other woman’s hands.
Isla took note of her interest and smiled. It was not nice. She took the tray and set it on the ground. Ishar waited for her to kick it but Isla, to her surprise, did not. She just sat the candle down beside the tray. It illuminated the bowl of porridge and drink. Isla glanced up. “I am afraid the day will be busy. The noon meal may be late,” she stated innocently. “Until later,” Isla added with an exaggerated bow. The Britai woman gathered the tray from the night before and stepped out. She shut the door firmly and Ishar heard the lock turn.
The Treason Blade (Battle for Alsaar Book 1) Page 19