Duty: a novel of Rhynan (18 page)

“Let it out. It helps at times.”

“No.” I fought for control. “No. I know the dream is
wrong.”

“Dream?” He drew back, finding my face among my wild
half-damp hair. “Whatever did you dream about?”

“Tomas.” My breath caught. I closed my eyes against
the images, but it only made them return. I opened my eyes again.
“Repeatedly dying on the battlefield.”

“They were only dreams.” Jarvin’s steady blue eyes
studied mine as he held my shoulders between his palms.

“I know. But…”

“They were so real.” Understanding softened his
stare. He dropped his hands and stepped back. “At times I dream of
the battle when I gained this.” He smacked his damaged thigh. “The
agony flares up so I swear the wound is ripped open and raw once
again. But then dawn comes and the pain goes away.” He smiled
wanly. “Give it time.”

I tried. Still the sense something terrible was going
to happen and might have already occurred continued to press me. It
urged my steps and hurried every movement. By noon, my impatience
with our progress annoyed even Anise.

“Do you intend to burn our meal?” She pulled the spit
from my hand. “You have it too close to the fire. Burned food will
not get us there any quicker.” She propped the stick-speared
rabbits a short distance from the fire and began rotating them
slowly. “Now what is bothering you so?”

Darnay and Elise chased each other around the
clearing. I watched them play, wishing for some of their innocence.
Jarvin was hunting for supper.

“If I don’t hurry, something terrible is going to
happen to Tomas. I dreamed about him dying on the battlefield all
night last night, variations on the same theme. I couldn’t see the
face of the man who kills him, and I couldn’t stop the act. The
whole time, a horrible certainty I could have prevented it all
strangled me. If I’d only arrived a few moments earlier I could
have prevented it all.”

Beyond Anise, Darnay danced away from Elise, just
beyond her grasping fingers. His taunting laughter echoed around
the clearing.

“I want to get to Tomas as fast as possible.”

Anise turned the spit.

“I give up!” Elise stomped over and threw herself
down on the ground, showering Anise with snow. The bits that fell
in the fire spit and hissed.

“Don’t give up.” I nudged her boot.

“He runs too fast.” She pouted prettily. Her mother
must have been a beauty. One glance at her features and one could
see the potential in her wide eyes, narrow chin, and elegant
cheekbones.

“Who says?”

“I do. I can never catch him.”

“Then wait and catch him unawares.”

“Win by waiting?” She screwed up her face in
confusion.

I couldn’t help smiling at her. “Yes. He will grow
bored when you don’t chase him and resort to acting foolishly to
enliven the game. Another thing you could do is don’t chase him as
hard. Then when he slows down to taunt you, catch him.”

She considered my suggestions. “I think I’ll try
that. Later, though. I am tired now.”

Darnay tramped over and squatted on the other side of
Anise. “What’s to eat, grandma?”

“Rabbit.”

“I thought it was Brielle’s turn to cook.”

“It was,” I admitted before Anise explained. “Your
grandma offered to help me for a bit. I can take it back now.”

We transferred the spit without incident. Anise rose
to her feet and brushed her skirt clean. “I will speak to Jarvin
when he returns about your concerns about…” She glanced down at the
children and then jutted her chin to the east.

“No, let me. I have other things I need to discuss
with him.” I had never mentioned the plot against the king’s life.
“Things I couldn’t speak of before…” I nodded toward where Darnay
sat. “We have many reasons to press on more quickly.”

Anise lifted her eyebrows. “You will share the same
with me when you get a chance.”

I promised I would.

“I suspect Jarvin will agree to us pushing harder.”
Anise ruffled her grandson’s hair. “It will be hardest on the
children, but I think we can manage it.”

“What are you talking about?” Darnay demanded. His
sharp eyes darted back and forth between us. “Is something wrong
with Father?”

“No, Darnay.” Anise smiled at him with more assurance
than I would have been able to muster. “I am sure your father is
just fine. Brielle is just worried about him.”

“Why? She isn’t his daughter.”

“But she is his wife. She loves him.”

“She can’t.” Darnay frowned. “I love him.”

“We can both love him,” I tried to explain.

“No.” His eyes filled with tears. “He is my father,
not yours.”

“Calm down.” Anise rubbed his arm. “All of us love
your father, Darnay, just in different ways. You have to learn to
share him. He is my son, Elise’s uncle, and your father, but he is
also Brielle’s husband. She loves him too.”

I was so thankful Anise explained it for me. I wasn’t
sure I could bring myself to say the words. I cared for Tomas. He
touched me in ways that none other did, but up until now I had only
applied the word love to three people in my life: Mother, Father,
and Loren. Only one of them lived. I still grieved the other
two.

“I don’t want her to love him.”

Anise lowered herself until she was face-to-face with
Darnay. “She wants to love you too.”

“She can’t.” He folded his arms. “Father and I are a
family.” He turned away and ran for the trees.

Anise straightened slowly as though her back hurt.
“Give him time. He needs to get used to the idea.”

I nodded and prayed for the right words to say when
the time came.

“Best rotate that spit or the rabbit will burn and
Darnay will not believe you know how to cook.” Her warm smile
soothed the fear that rose at the thought. “He is a child, Brielle.
He will adjust.”

Suddenly remembering Elise, I looked around only to
find she had wandered over toward the horses. She tramped in
circles, making paths in the few remaining smooth expanses of snow
in the clearing.

Within minutes Darnay joined her. Together they
laughed. Apparently, my intrusion into Darnay’s ordered world was
forgotten for now.

“Now would be a good time to tell me of those other
reasons we must hurry.” Anise settled at my side and adjusted her
skirt.

I told her of Jorndar’s men lying in wait for King
Mendal.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*

We doubled our pace, traveling farther into the
evenings and waking earlier in the mornings. It still took another
day’s travel for the scenery to grow familiar. Since we didn’t
follow the main trail, we almost missed the village completely. I
noted it in time and we corrected our course and pressed
onward.

Mid-morning the third day, we broke through the tree
line southwest of Wisenvale.

To the south spread a sea of tents. I recognized the
low-lying shelters of Tomas’ men among Rathenridge and Landry’s
regular-sized pavilions. The triple standards of Irvaine,
Rathenridge, and Landry whipped in the wind.

Identical colors flew above the army arrayed along
the slight rise between us and Wisenvale. I was encouraged by the
restless mass of men and horses blocking our view of the
village.

Without thought to my traveling companions, I heeled
my horse into motion. Only as I approached the hindmost ranks did I
become aware of another rider joining me. I glanced over expecting
Jarvin. It was Anise. She rode alone.

“Jarvin is taking the children to the camp.”

“Willingly?”

“Of course not.”

We were spotted. A small stir among the ranks
resulted in two mounted warriors breaking off to ride to meet
us.

I slowed my mount as they approached. Anise fell back
behind my left side into a place of subservience.

“This is a battlefield, not a place for women.” The
senior warrior’s bushy dark brows gave his frown a menacing edge
that didn’t match the tone of his gravelly voice. He wore
Rathenridge’s colors of red and brown.

“Where is Lord Irvaine?”

His brows lowered even more. “Who asks?”

“Lady Irvaine and his mother, Anise Dyrease.”

Sharp blue eyes scanned my face, evaluating my
honesty. “You don’t look like a lady, my lady.”

After three days of hard travel and little time to
attend to my appearance, I probably didn’t. “We fled Kyrenton and
the journey has been rough. Is Lord Irvaine with the army?”

“No. He meets with Lord Wisten and Baron Areyuthian
in an attempt to negotiate peace. King Mendal hasn’t appeared, and
we are outnumbered.”

Anise sucked air in through her teeth.
“Areyuthian?”

“Aye.”

“You know him?” I asked.

Anise avoided my gaze. “You might say that.” She
addressed the warrior. “Is this the first meeting between the
men?”

“Aye.” His puzzled frown didn’t clear up
anything.

I pressed again. “Where are they meeting?”

“Over there.” He gestured northwest. “We have
orders…”

I didn’t wait for him to finish. Heeling my mount
forward, I urged him toward the battle line.

“My lady!” The warrior’s yelled consternation rang in
my ears, but I ignored it. I had to see Irvaine. Just a glimpse to
see that he lived would be enough, or at least that was what I told
myself. I dispelled the lie from my thoughts as I came abreast of
the forward-most ranks. Gaining horrified and annoyed glances from
the men on either side, I craned my neck to gaze out over the
fields.

Arrayed across the opposite rise just outside the
village a host of gleaming shields caught the sunlight. Bouncing
light and the glare of the snow made it difficult to estimate the
number of opposing soldiers, but I guessed at least five hundred
men stood at attention beneath orange and gray banners. Beyond
them, I spotted the roof of Nariahna’s cottage marking the edge of
my home.

A wide gully of perhaps a quarter mile lay between
the armies.

“My lady.” The older warrior on his mount pushed
abreast of the line on my left. “You should not be here.”

“On the contrary, I need to be here. Where is
Irvaine?”

“There, my lady.” The soldier on my right pointed off
to the west. A cluster of men stood beneath the shade of Whorl’s
Oak and beyond the last ranks of both armies. Even at this
distance, I recognized Tomas’ helmet and the set of his shoulders.
The urgency in my chest eased slightly. He lived.

But as I calmed and turned my attention to the others
in the group, one man raised his hand and made a flippant gesture
that brought dread rushing back. Orwin stood behind Tomas.

A glint of sun on a blade was the only warning of the
deadly intent of Orwin’s downward thrust.

A cry ripped from my throat as Tomas crumpled. My
heart screamed and my vision swam as I gasped for breath.

For a single heartbeat silence reigned. Then as one,
the sea of men around me heaved forward with a great roar. Horses
plunged past me. Glimpses of swords raised in challenge and
rage-contorted faces amid wild cries of revenge flooded by. They
broke around Anise and me as though we were a boulder amidst a sea.
The army rushed down into the gully only to be met halfway up the
other side by the slower moving wall of Baron Areyuthian’s
army.

Despite the roar of battle, the rush of blood through
my head, and the unreal touch of shock chilling my limbs, a small
thought nagged at me.
He isn’t dead.
I refused to believe
what my eyes had seen, what my dreams forewarned, and what my heart
feared to be true. Despite the overwhelming evidence against the
possibility, I clutched at the frail hope.
Please Kurios, let it
be true.

I tightened my grip on my horse’s reins and kicked
the poor beast’s flank. He lunged forward, half wild. I clung to
his back and fixated on reaching Tomas. Nothing else mattered.
Whether I would arrive to discover him alive, dead, or dying, I
belonged at his side.

The wind howled in my ears, but I could hear someone
calling my name. The steady rhythm of another rider kept pace. I
dared not glance back. I urged my horse even faster.

Over the horse’s pumping head, I could see the group
of men. Orwin now stood over Tomas. He said something to the man I
assumed was Baron Areyuthian. The Baron didn’t respond. His gaze
fixed on the battle.

I thundered straight in among them. The hurtling body
of my mount drove Orwin scrambling for safety.

Not waiting for the horse to stop, I dropped to the
ground a few feet from Tomas’ body. As I fell, I smacked the
horse’s flank to irritate it more. The gelding pounded the ground
and reared, scattering soldiers before his flailing hooves. In the
chaos, I ran to Tomas’ side and slid to my knees in the dirt at his
side.

“Tomas.” The sound of his name tore at my raw throat.
A sob threatened to break free, but I held it back.

His helmet covered his face. I fumbled for the strap,
encountering warm skin. The heat strengthened my hope. My fingers
couldn’t move fast enough. An eternity passed before the leather
band finally fell free. I eased the helmet off his head.

Dark hair fell free. His head lolled to the side,
face toward me. He breathed. The slight stir of air moved past his
lips.

He lived.

I found his left hand, pulled off the glove and
sought a heartbeat in his wrist. A steady throb pulsed against my
fingers. A sob of relief burst forth from my chest. I blinked back
tears. No, I couldn’t cry yet.

He bled, a pool of red collecting under his left
shoulder. Before I could investigate further, my gaze fell on the
mark darkening the left half of his face. Someone had kicked his
head after he fell. Rage at my cousin brought my head up just in
time to see Anise ride up.

Regal and white with anger to match the wrath burning
in my chest, she dismounted with elegant flare. She marched past
the scattered men trying to calm my horse and Orwin spouting
orders.