Raven's Hand Page 8

  Killian turned round, searching for the sword his father had sent with him. It was nowhere to be found. Esmeralda turned her head to help him and stopped quickly. She snorted at him, drawing his attention.

  “What is it?” he said, placing a hand upon her neck to aid in communication.

  Her thought directed him to look over his shoulder. Killian did so and found an unexpected surprise. The sword and scabbard were strapped onto his back.

  He sat for a moment, wondering why Shalindra might have sent him away with the sword this way. What was going on? He shouldn’t be wearing the sword. This weapon was meant for Prince Nathan in Rainier, not the son of a bladesmith.

  The charge made to him by Shalindra and the oath he made in order to receive Eliam’s blessing came to mind. It had been then that everything happened. Even now, thinking about the experience made him feel light-headed.

  “Oh no, Esmeralda,” Killian groaned, shutting his eyes in frustration. “What have I done?”

  The horse made a non-committal noise.

  “This sword belongs to the prince, and I’ve taken an oath before Eliam to use it to fight against the Malkind and their followers! I must be out of my mind. Father is going to kill me!”

  Esmeralda snorted out her displeasure.

  “Easy for you to say,” Killian complained. “You’re not the one who has to explain taking an oath and receiving a blessing with our future king’s sword!”

  Esmeralda nickered in reply, shaking her head.

  “It’s not one bit funny,” Killian said, scolding her. “What am I going to do?”

  Esmeralda did nothing in reply at first, then he sensed something she wanted him to remember; something about the blessing of Eliam upon the other weapons his father had brought to Shalindra in times past.

  Killian considered her response. Then he remembered the process. Something was required in order to complete any weapon with Eliam’s blessing. “That could be it!” he shouted. “The blood is required! I could just do nothing. I’ll take the sword back like nothing out of the ordinary happened—a blessing was given after all—and when the prince takes possession of the blade, no one will be the wiser. His blood will be added during the bonding ceremony. When he takes his bond and the weapon, they will draw his blood upon the blade and bind it to him as well.”

  Esmeralda shook her head in a frustrated manner and began to walk them down the road toward the city.

  “It will work,” Killian said, partly to her and partly to convince himself. “It has to work.”

  Night had nearly fallen by the time Killian and Esmeralda returned to the city. They barely made it through the gate before all traffic entering the wall was stopped for the evening. His mark of patronage helped him to squeeze through despite many others offering money who never made it past the Eastern Gate.

  His family’s standing was honored anywhere in the kingdom. The guards knew better than to dishonor someone of higher rank in the social order. A position guarding one of the city gates might not have been glamorous, but it was better than having to dwell outside the wall in the Mud Districts with the rest of the Third Order Commoners.

  Killian and Esmeralda made a bee line for the Mangy Cur Inn. With night falling and a weary journey only half remembered behind them, they both were much in need of sustenance and rest. Yeager’s inn appeared to be quiet tonight which seemed a bit odd. Still, things were not always hopping, so he dismissed the lack of revelry and made his way back to the stables. Esmeralda was only too eager to be handed over to the stable boys. They lined her a stall with fresh straw and placed a feed bag on her muzzle with a generous helping of oats to sate her grumbling belly.

  Killian bid her goodnight, taking the sword with him still strapped to his back in the finely crafted scabbard he had fashioned for the prince. He drew the hood of his cloak back as he made his way into the inn, opening the door to find only half the number of patrons he might have expected. Those faces he recognized, seemed on edge. Even Yeager’s drink couldn’t cheer them up this evening.

  Then Killian noticed a group of men seated near the back of the room at tables drawn near to one another. These men had the look of soldiers, but the dress of commoners. They bore weapons on their persons and leaned nearby against the wall and beside their chairs. They were the only ones laughing inside the inn.

  “Mercenaries,” Killian whispered to himself.

  He had seen mercenaries before. Everyone had seen them. They didn’t exactly hide what they were when they entered a city, town or establishment. In fact, they were more likely to broadcast their occupation in order to illicit the kind of fear they feed on. People who were afraid tended to be more compliant with their wishes. Those who weren’t, became examples to the others after a beating or two.

  Killian looked around the room once more. Fear was evident upon every face. They avoided eye contact, keeping their heads down so as not to draw attention to themselves.

  He watched Yeager at the bar. He looked nervous, and he was staring at Killian. Killian walked over to the bar, saying nothing, but listening to the noisy group of mercenaries as they carried on about another round of drinks.

  Wendy emerged from the kitchen on that side of the room. Cheers went up from the mercenaries’ tables. Killian watched as hands attempted to grope the barmaid as she passed. Wendy was used to such advances from patrons and she normally handled it with the kind of saucy attitude that curbed unwanted advances, but these men are different. They didn’t take no for an answer.

  Killian gritted his teeth in anger. As soon as Wendy left the drinks on the table, two of the mercenaries took her by the arms to pull her back toward them. Killian saw the fear in her eyes as her gaze landed upon his face. That was all he could take. Wendy was a friend, and he was not going to allow her to be treated this way.

  “Hey!” Killian called out, silencing cheers from the mercenaries as they realized someone had challenged them.

  Killian stepped out around the bar into plain view. The two mercenaries holding Wendy’s arms did not relent. Killian’s hand flew to the pommel of the sword upon his back.

  Yeager appeared around the bar, stepping between Killian and the mercenaries, his hand pressing Killian’s chest to stop him. Wendy’s father turned his attention on the mercenaries. “Let her go!” he demanded. “That’s my daughter. If you can’t behave yourselves, I’ll summon the constables. I’m a well-respected businessman. They’ll put you out of the city on my say-so.”

  Killian watched as the mercenaries ranged through several emotions before finally turning Wendy free of their grip. “Scrawny girl isn’t worth spoiling our good time,” one of them said.

  This man commanded their attention and the others listened. Killian wondered if he might be the leader of this band of rogues. His hair was a bit neater than the others. His eye patch also set him apart and the knife blade that stood in place of his left hand.

  Wendy was set loose and immediately made her way to Killian’s side. She looked pleased that he had come to her rescue. Her father continued to stare, until the leader forced his men to stand down.

  “Your business is appreciated, gentlemen,” Yeager offered. “That round is on the house. We don’t want any trouble here.”

  None of the mercenaries spoke, but their angry glares said it all for them. They weren’t happy. Killian couldn’t care less about their happiness. He released the pommel of the blessed sword on his back, only realizing now what weapon he was about to use on these men.

  His hand recoiled then. Surely, he hadn’t been about to use Prince Nathan’s blade. He had better be more careful with his future king’s sword and his own temper.

  Yeager and Killian and Wendy returned to the front of the bar, Yeager making his way all the way around to stand at his usual post. Wendy kissed Killian on the cheek, smiling brightly at him. She didn’t care that her father was watching. Everyone knew she had taken a fancy to Killian anyway.

  “You deserve more than that, but it wil
l have to wait until later,” Wendy whispered to Killian.

  He grinned. “That will do,” he said. “I wouldn’t take advantage of your hospitality so unfairly.”

  “I wouldn’t mind,” she pouted and then trailed away into the kitchen. “I’ll bring you something to eat.”

  “Your usual room?” Yeager asked.

  Killian nodded. “Can you have Wendy bring the food up, when it’s ready?”

  Yeager cocked an eyebrow in his direction.

  Killian started at the look. “Never mind,” he said, “I’ll just wait on it and take it up myself.”

  Yeager nodded and went back to drying freshly washed glasses on the bar top. Killian sighed. He didn’t want to upset Yeager over his daughter’s virtue, or lead Wendy on. Despite her advances, he really did only consider her a friend. He didn’t want her to get any more ideas about their relationship than she already had. The ones she had already were enough.

  The mercenary group toned down their conversation. The leader’s lone eye remained fixed upon Killian. He watched the man cautiously from the bar, until Wendy appeared with a tray of bread, cheese and sliced beef and a pitcher of wine with a tankard on the side.

  All of it was the finest the Mangy Cur had to offer—Killian was quite sure. Wendy never left him with second best. Killian smiled, acknowledging in his own mind that having Wendy’s affection wasn’t all bad. She really was a sweet girl, just not the one for him.

  He took his tray in hand, leaving Yeager with a nod and Wendy with a pleased smile. She touched his arm, her doe eyes fixed upon his face. It was not the flirtatious look she usually reserved for him.

  “Thank you, Killian,” she said quietly.

  He grinned and bowed his head slightly in deference. “My pleasure, my lady,” he said. “Anything for such a friend as you.”

  She nodded solemnly. Evidently, her experience with the mercenaries had shaken her a bit more than she had let on a moment ago. He couldn’t blame her. Mercenaries were not the kind of men that people usually stood up to, even inside the city walls. Most would have simply allowed a girl like Wendy to be abused by them, or worse, without ever saying a word to stop them.

  “On my tab?” Killian asked.

  “It’s on the house,” Yeager said without looking up from the tankard he was drying with a cloth.

  Killian paused to consider. Yeager wasn’t the kind to give away his services easily.

  The bar keeper glanced up. “Call it a hero discount.”

  Killian nodded and turned for the stair. He caught a glance at the mercenary leader again. The man was still staring at him, while the others caroused and reveled in their stories and their wine. However, the leader’s one eye never left him, even as he turned his back to the man and made his way up to the same room where he always stayed when visiting the Mangy Cur.

  Screams in the Night

  We had ridden for hours into the night, the wind howling around us as Kane pushed his black stallion to the breaking point of any normal animal. Still, his steed went on faithfully. Foam gathered at the beast’s mouth, but it would not stop; not until he allowed.

  I did not know the hour, though it couldn’t be near dawn yet. By the moon’s position in the night sky, I surmised that it must be a few hours past midnight. I wanted to stop, but I didn’t dare to ask. Kane’s hard body sat like a rock wall behind me in the saddle. He might have been thin-framed, but he possessed a seemingly limitless strength. I could only guess how much of this was due to the spirit dwelling within him.

  My bladder, though empty when we left the abbey, was almost to the point of bursting now. I had tried to hang on to my composure, imagining what dreadful consequence might befall me for interrupting Kane’s relentless pace toward Rainier and his queen. However, all of the constant jostling and bouncing had taken its toll, and I could no longer contain my need.

  “We must stop!” I cried out.

  Kane did not reply. I heard only the slightest hint of a noncommittal grunt from behind my left ear. He meant to ignore me, I was sure. That simply would not do.

  “I must be allowed to relieve myself! I cannot go any further!”

  Kane reluctantly pulled back some on the reins. The stallion began to slow its pace substantially, until we were moving only at a canter and then a walk. He pulled back again, and the horse came up short upon the road.

  Our dusty wake, finally able to catch up, now billowed around us, creating a choking cloud. I did my best not to cough. Kane didn’t react to it at all.

  I didn’t like having to speak so indelicately; especially in front of a man, but I had been left with little choice in the matter. Besides, I was fairly certain that proper etiquette wasn’t high on the list of a man like Kane. He was a trained killer; a man of blood. What difference could it make to him?

  I waited a moment and felt Kane’s sigh on my neck. “Well?” he asked impatiently.

  I took this as permission to dismount and began to move my right leg over to my left side, using the left stirrup as an anchor to keep from both falling and kicking Kane across the chin in the ungraceful process of extricating myself from the saddle. He did me the courtesy of at least supporting my arm as I worked my way down. I’m quite certain this was only to keep from having to answer to Mistress Evelyn for any injuries I might incur, should I fall.

  Once on the ground, I immediately had a sense of freedom, though Kane was staring down at me from the stallion. The horse, too, had its dark eyes upon me, letting me know that running wasn’t an option. Though Kane didn’t say so, I had the feeling that he might relish the chase and find ways to punish me that Evelyn would never know about.

  I pushed the urge to flee from my mind and wearily made my way to a nearby tree just off the road where I could at least somewhat privately relieve myself. My legs were terribly sore from our journey so far. I was unaccustomed to the saddle, the pace, and my unpleasant company. Still, there was nothing to be done about it. I was quite sure Evelyn would rather see me delivered worn but safely alive than pampered and dead on the side of the road at the hands of Judah’s Cindermen.

  Kane remained in the saddle, at least until I had finished my business behind the tree. When I emerged again, straightening my coat over the breeches I had worn for riding, I found the assassin seated next to a bundle of branches. I had no idea how this setup came to be. Only a moment ago, he was still in the saddle, confidently peering down upon my makeshift privy.

  The assassin stared at me. The other light brightened in his eyes; the measure of the spirit dwelling in the man. Almost immediately, the bundle of branches next to him burst into flame.

  My eyes darted toward the small explosion of fire and then back to Kane. A wicked grin crossed his face. I could feel the spirit staring out of him. I wanted to ask how he had done this, but I felt that I already had my answer. I was afraid to hear him say it; afraid to hear that one of the Malkind was there inside his body. I believed they existed, had always believed it, but to be faced with a physical manifestation was entirely different.

  “Sit down and take your rest for now,” Kane said in a raspy baritone voice.

  I felt the urge to obey his command; not out of fear exactly, but by some press upon my will. I could only assume that this must be from the mysterious spirit’s influence. I did not attempt to resist. There was no use starting a conflict over such a simple demand as sitting down.

  Truth be told, I would have liked nothing better than to have a good rest. We had drank water already along the way and had eaten bits of food from Kane’s saddlebags, but rest from the journey was one thing he had not afforded me all evening. I sat down gratefully, wincing slightly as my sore posterior met the ground.

  I thought, perhaps, that I might possess power and will enough to resist this spirit. I could have possibly fought for my life, if it became necessary, but what would that gain me now? Where would I have gone? To live in the wilderness as some wild woman? Back to the abbey only to have Evelyn send her servants for m
e once again?

  The Queen was desperate for a bond for her son and heir to the throne. Without me, House Rainier stood in terrible straits with the other great houses bearing down upon their necks. She had to have me safely bonded to Prince Nathan, or give up the throne and the right to rule.

  I couldn’t do anything about this now. Fighting would have been futile. I would have gained nothing. Truth be told, I also believed that I deserved this fate. My fighting against the system, so to speak, was exactly what had cost my dear friend her life.

  Kane produced no food, or drink, only the fire to keep us warm in this small clearing next to the road. He shut his eyes and lowered his head, hiding his face beneath the wide brim of his hat. I sighed, but this produced no response. Defeated and tired, I also closed my eyes.

  I woke to a different place than where Kane and I had stopped to rest. I was standing outside of what appeared to be some sort of tavern or inn. The hour was late—the same hour as when I closed my eyes, according to the position of the stars and moon. There didn’t appear to be anyone out on the streets.

  The sign above the door of the establishment directly before me read, The Mangy Cur. I had never been to this place before, but I did notice the massive wall of the city beyond. Could this have been the capital city of House Rainier that I was seeing?

  As with earlier visions, I saw myself as I was, yet in an incorporeal form that was invisible to others. There were real people here, not merely dreams. I was not even that much to them.

  I felt the urge to go into this place, yet I knew for certain that there was danger ahead. Still, I had to go in order to understand why I was here at all. There was always a purpose to the visions—to show me something that I needed to know. Dreams were completely different for me. I was not in the real world in dreams, as I was now. They were chaotic and distorted. This was real, even if it was some place other than where my body rested near Kane.

  I walked toward the door. Horses could be heard in the stalls behind the tavern, making me think it must also be an inn. I did not open the door, but passed through the wall like a specter. I had already had the experience of trying to touch objects in this form. My insubstantial essence had no effect on my surroundings in the real world.