Duty: a novel of Rhynan (19 page)

“Alonzian Areyuthian, I demand to know why you
allowed this…” Anise hurled a slur at Orwin “…to lay hands on your
son in such an insidious and dishonorable way.”

I expected the baron to retaliate. Instead he stared
at Anise, face slack with shock.

“Anise, what are you doing here?”

“What you should be doing.” Anise spat in the dirt at
his feet before turning to me. “Does he live?”

My overtaxed brain began to process her words.
Son?
Areyuthian was Tomas’ father? But how?

“Brielle, is Tomas alive?” Anise’s voice finally
broke through my stuttering thoughts.

I blinked. “Yes. Yes, he lives.”

Clutching the limp fingers of Tomas’ hand, I stared
up at the Baron.

“What do you mean ‘my son’? How could he be my
son?”

Ignoring Areyuthian, Anise knelt by Tomas’ other
side. “Has he spoken?”

“Forget the horse, fools, seize that woman.” Orwin
strode past the baron to jab a finger at me. “She will ruin
everything.”

An expression of great longsuffering passed over
Baron Areyuthian’s face. “No more than you have already done on
your own, Lord Wisten. Please cease your yelling.”

“She is a harlot and a meddling witch. She will–“

Areyuthian turned on Orwin. “Hold your tongue or I
shall make you hold it.”

Owin’s lip curled. “You answer to me, Areyuthian, not
the other way around.”

Areyuthian rested his right hand on the hilt of his
sword and lifted an eyebrow.

“Your king shall hear of this.” Orwin finally closed
his mouth with a mutinous glare.

Areyuthian turned back to us. “Now, let us begin at
the beginning. Anise, how can this man be my son?”

“I doubt I need to explain the details, Alonzian. You
were there for his conception.” She gestured to Tomas. “He was born
in the spring twenty-eight years past.”

When Areyuthian turned his gaze to Tomas’ face, I
reached for my knife hanging from my belt. The feel of the hilt in
my palm reassured me. The blade was small. It wouldn’t be much of a
threat to a swordsman. But still, it was something.

“Why didn’t you contact me? I would have–”

“Taken him from me.” Anise cut him off with eerie
calm. “You were newly married. I saw your wife. She was a sweet
thing. I wasn’t about to drag your indiscretion out into the open
and flaunt it. It would have broken her heart.”

Shame and regret tugged at the baron’s shoulders. He
watched Anise with a strange mixture of admiration, sorrow, and
genuine affection. “I could have at least given you some support.
Though, from the looks of it, you did well by him on your own.”

“For now, I would be content if you sent for a healer
before he bleeds out.”

Areyuthian signaled one of his men to approach.

“Fetch my healer.”

Despite the confusion on the soldier’s face, he
saluted and complied.

Orwin’s pudgy features turned florid with
indignation. “I must protest! He is a prisoner of war! Just because
this tramp claims he is your son–”

Areyuthian drew his dagger so quickly Orwin didn’t
even have time to slow his tongue before the tip pressed against
the underside of his jaw.

“Do not speak of what you do not understand.” The
baron did not raise his voice, but the threat resonated all the
more through his cold control. This was a man used to killing. His
dark brown eyes sparked with anger.

Orwin swallowed with great care. “Should you harm me,
your king will see you hanged.”

“That I doubt. King Farian only agreed to this
venture because he thought there was nothing to lose and everything
to gain. He is not here and my men will say what I tell them to
say. Who will be alive to tell your lies then?”

“I have friends in influential places.”

Areyuthian laughed mirthlessly. “That I doubt.
Blackmailed or manipulated fools caught in your web of lies and
half-truths more like.”

“Baron Storkage.”

Areyuthian flinched infinitesimally. “A fool.” He
lowered his weapon. “Keep silent.”

I turned my attention back to Tomas. He still
breathed. Movement beneath his eyelids offered hope that he might
wake soon. I stroked the back of his hand where it lay in mine and
prayed for his recovery. It felt strange for everyone to be
discussing him without his awareness. I suspected he would have
words to say to his father.

Tomas’ fingers tightened around mine.

The tremors of approaching horses shook the
ground.

“Messenger coming, my lord,” one of the soldier’s
cried.

“And a healer?” Areyuthian strode to see.

The soldier’s reply was lost in the distant roar of
the battle.

Tomas stirred with a groan. Moving his head, he
winced at what must be a great throbbing pain. I remembered the
sensation well from the first time I was thrown from a horse.
Within moments, he was blinking up at me.

“Brielle?” He squinted up at me and then closed his
eyes as though not believing what he saw. His grip on my fingers
tightened painfully, yet I couldn’t find my voice to tell him. All
the words in my head rushed forward at once and none of them made
it past my lips.

A kit bag struck the grass at my side startling me
from my struggle.

“Let us see how he is.” The healer’s muddy boots
nudged the worn satchel aside. “It looks to be on this side. Would
you mind moving?”

Extracting my fingers from Tomas’ grasp, I scooted
out of the way despite Tomas’ protest.

“Pain?”

Tomas responded promptly. “Shoulder and head.
Brielle?”

“Right here.” I moved to his other side and he
reclaimed my hand while the healer worked at the breastplate’s
straps. The metal and leather came away to reveal red-stained
chainmail beneath. I visually searched for a break in the
links.

“It must be behind his shoulder.” The healer shoved
his kit out of the way. “Can you sit up, my lord?”

Tomas nodded and then cringed. “If my head allows
me.”

Suddenly intent, the healer prodded the deepening
bruise covering half of Tomas’ face. “Dizziness? Double vision?
Nausea?”

“Pain enough to cause all of the above.” Tomas opened
his eyes only to close them again with another groan. “No double
vision. My stomach has nothing to give up should I vomit, though
with this head I desperately hope I don’t.”

“Clear speech is a good sign.” The healer caught
Tomas’ head again. “Open your eyes. Look at me and then we will get
you up. I want to look at that shoulder. How long was he out?”

“I don’t know.”

“He could be fine. His eye looks only swollen. Only
time will tell. Okay, let us get you sitting up. Grab a hand,
woman, we are going to have to pull him to sitting.”

I scrambled to my feet, gripped Tomas’ forearm and
hauled. He came up with a grunt of pain. His face paled even more.
The healer moved around behind and I knelt before Tomas. Dark eyes
a bit glassy from pain scanned my features. With his face tight
with pain, I couldn’t guess if he was happy to see me or not.

“Where is Darnay?”

“Safe. We left him at the camp. Jarvin is seeing to
him and Elise.”

“We? Who else is with you? Mother?” He groaned and
tensed as the healer prodded at his shoulder.

“Can you move your arm?” the healer asked.

“Yes.”

“Then I need this mail off.”

We hauled the mail shirt over his head. He didn’t
make a sound through the whole procedure, but one glance at his
ashen face afterwards made me wonder if the decision had been wise.
The wound had opened up more. The healer instructed me to apply
pressure. So, I was leaning into Tomas’ back when Areyuthian
stepped away from a conversation with an officer to confront
Tomas.

“Lord Wisten has fled.”

Tomas’ shoulders tensed beneath my hands. “Did he
take anyone with him?”

“No.”

“Then I suggest finding him.” Tomas lowered his head
cautiously as though it might fall between his knees to the
ground.

“Already done. I have three of my personal guard
searching. That is all I can spare until my order to sound a
retreat takes effect.”

“Retreat?” Tomas stared up at Areyuthian.

“I am not about to sacrifice more lives to Lord
Wisten’s foolish schemes.”

“Tired of him tugging your strings?”

Areyuthian’s dark eyes narrowed. “My strings lay in
more honorable hands than Wisten’s muddy paws.”

“You could have fooled me.”

I jabbed Tomas in the ribs. It wouldn’t do to
antagonize Areyuthian. Tomas’ father or not, the baron was still
the enemy. All of our lives depended on his sense of honor and
value of family ties. One word from him and Tomas, Anise, and I
would be dead. The fate of the army beyond and the country would be
inconsequential then.

“Where are the women?” I rejoiced that my voice held
steady.

“Under guard in the lord’s hall.” Areyuthian’s dark
gaze turned to me. Studying my face for a few moments as though
struggling to remember something just out of his grasp, a frown
deepened the corners of the baron’s mouth.

“Who are you?”

Just then, the healer gestured for me to move aside
so he could begin stitching the gap in Tomas’ shoulder.

I stood. It felt better to be on my feet when facing
an uncertain situation. Still, Areyuthian towered over me, his
whole body tightening as he waited for my answer.

I lifted my chin and met his suspicion with my only
viable weapon, truth. “I am Brielle Solarius, daughter of Tyranen
Solarius, late Lord of Wisten.”

“My wife,” Tomas added without lifting his head.

“And Orwin–Lord Wisten’s cousin.”

“Fire!” A distant cry of alarm and a blast of a horn
sounding the ordered retreat cut through the remaining chaos of
battle.

Still, Areyuthian’s gaze didn’t waver from my face. I
dare not drop mine. Instead, I watched as the depths of Orwin’s
deception dawned on the baron’s face. The realization became
rage.

He cursed Orwin, the situation, his deity, and a
great many other things.

Once he regained control, he began acting. He
summoned his men with a wave of one hand ordered his forces to move
out.

I looked east. Smoke billowed black into the clear
blue of the cloudless afternoon sky. The village was on fire. I
could easily guess who had set it. Orwin. In childish revenge he
sought to destroy what he could not possess. My heart grieved
despite my mind’s resignation. Moisture leaked down my cheeks.

“Urarge!”

The healer jumped. “My lord?”

“Get to the battlefield. Pluck the wounded from the
mud. I want no man left behind: alive or dead. No reason to return.
We shall shake this country’s soil from our feet. Ryhnan is a
cursed place. I’ll show King Farian the cost of his grasping
foolishness—pointless death.”

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

The healer handed me the linen for a fresh bandage
later. “Keep the area clean and he should heal just fine. No using
the arm, mind.”

Tomas nodded, but didn’t otherwise acknowledge the
healer’s words.

“Good luck.” Then he plucked his kit from the ground
and mounted his horse. Within a few moments, he was galloping off
toward the battlefield.

“Help me up.”

Tomas offered me his good arm, which I grabbed and
hauled. He gained his feet with a half yell, and clamped his good
arm to his ribs.

“Should I call the healer back?” I checked the
bandage on his shoulder beneath the shredded remains of his
tunic.

“Nothing he can do for a cracked rib.”

A wave of anger at Orwin washed over me. Only he
would be dishonorable enough to beat an unarmed, fallen foe. If he
hadn’t been out of my reach, I would have shown him exactly what I
thought of his low behavior.

“My lord!” Rathenridge approached with a company of
ten mounted soldiers. They careened to a halt in a spray of slush
and mud. “The enemy is retreating, should we pursue them?”

Rathenridge’s eyes widened when he spotted me. He
lifted an eyebrow, but otherwise didn’t acknowledge my presence.
The soldiers with him were less discreet. One of them even leaned
over to speak with the man next to him.

“No.” Tomas tried to square his shoulders with
authority, but only managed to straighten up. “See to putting out
the fire and tending the wounded. Areyuthian no longer has a
quarrel with us. Also form a search party. Lord Orwin is loose and
I wish to have him found before Areyuthian finds him.”

“Yes, my lord.” Rathenridge nodded to three of the
men with him. They immediately broke off and rode back in the
direction of the battlefield.

“Where is my mother?”

“In the middle of an argument with Landry last I saw
her.” Rathenridge signaled the soldiers. They disbursed, forming a
perimeter around us. “Do you need your horse?”

Tomas grimaced. “I doubt that would be wise at the
moment. Orwin worked me over pretty well.” He reached for his
helmet, but I intercepted his awkward movement by picking it up
myself. “How did my mother get down there so quickly?”

“Grabbed a horse from someone and rode. She tore into
our group and demanded Landry take men up to meet you. He took
exception to her orders. They were still yelling things at each
other when I left.” Rathenridge dismounted.

Tomas moved forward, placing each step with care. I
gave him space. I didn’t want to insult his pride by offering to
help.

“Orwin is the one I would prefer to yell at right
now.” Rathenridge commented as he fell into step with me. “For a
while there, we all thought he had killed Tomas.”

“A bit more force and accuracy and he would have.” I
was never so thankful for my cousin’s incompetence.

Tomas stopped and turned to face us. “What are you
two talking about?”

“Your recent scrape with death. What else would we
have to discuss? You shouldn’t have trusted Orwin.”