Duty: a novel of Rhynan (31 page)

“Who is he, Rolendis?” Jorndar demanded.

Her lips moved, but no sound came out.

Tomas took a smooth step to the left, out of Orwin’s
direct line of vision.

“He is Lord Dentin, you fool.” Orwin smirked. “You
are crossing swords with the man responsible for the safety of the
realm. Now would be a great time for a confession.”

“What are you babbling about?” Jorndar’s sword dipped
as he half-turned to glare at Orwin.

Dentin leaned in and neatly sliced through Jorndar’s
jerkin and tunic to the skin beneath. Jorndar cursed and dropped
his knife to clamp his left hand over his right forearm. “I wasn’t
looking.”

“Never been on the battlefield, I take it.” Dentin
punctuated his question with a hard stroke. “I don’t take kindly to
knights who have never seen combat, especially in view of the
conflicts of recent years.” Two more strokes and a half-hearted
lunge pressed Jorndar back a step.

“I served.”

“Which side? Are you of Trentham or Mendal?”

“Mendal, of course.”

“Then why is there record of your knights on
Trentham’s books?”

“I fought at Manowing.”

“I wouldn’t consider hiding in your tent fighting.
Are you a coward as well as a traitor, Sir Jorndar?” Dentin timed a
thrust and whipping lunge at Jorndar’s head to match the final
question.

Jorndar ducked and deflected, but only barely. “I am
not the traitor here!” He lunged madly at Dentin. “I fought at
Manowing under Mendal. I have supported him from the
beginning.”

“You lie.” Dentin cracked Jorndar on the side of the
head with the flat of his sword. His opponent fell like a rag
doll.

Rolendis screamed, but the sound was cut off
abruptly.

Orwin held Rolendis against him, bending her
awkwardly over his paunch. His knife tip pressed against the
underside of her jaw. “No one move or she dies.”

“You are assuming we wish her to live.”

Dentin’s cold response provoked a flicker of fear in
Orwin’s darting eyes as he tried to keep all three of us in sight
at once. An impossible feat since Tomas now stood next to the far
left wall and only two strides from the pair.

Sometime during Jorndar’s confrontation with Dentin,
Tomas sheathed his sword. Behind his back, hidden from Orwin but
not from me, he held a knife. He glanced at Dentin. Some kind of
communication flicked between them.

With a yell, Dentin raised his sword and lunged.
Despite the sword tip still being feet away from him, Orwin jumped
backwards. Rolendis fell forward, whimpering. I expected Orwin to
dive to recover his human shield. Instead he clutched his throat
and crumpled to the floor, Tomas’ knife stuck in his chest.

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

Sleet whipped at my helmet, each ping echoing
strangely in my ears. Around me, the outer bailey filled with armed
men, returning servants, and former residents who had fled
Jorndar’s coup. The baker yelled at his assistants as they guided
an overloaded cart toward the kitchens. A commander called out
assignments to three ranks of armed guards bearing Irvaine’s crest
and colors.

Their neat tunics and clean armor contrasted sharply
with Tomas’ and my own appearance. Blood from Orwin and others
stained his knees and tunic. Mud crusted his leggings, boots, and
sleeves. I knew I didn’t look any better, more likely worse. The
commander kept glancing our way as though he wanted to come over
and reprimand me for my sloppy kit.

I stepped closer to Tomas and Antano.

I didn’t attempt to follow Irvaine’s list of
questions and orders as he and Antano bounced words back and forth.
I felt like a drowned rat. My teeth kept chattering if I didn’t
clamp them closed. I welcomed the cold, though. It distracted me
from the horrible dread coiled in my stomach, like a cobra ready to
strike if I looked its way. Still, I couldn’t ignore it forever.
Eventually I was going to have to face the fact I was going to be
tried for treason. A shiver gripped my spine. I shied away from the
inevitable and focused on Tomas’ voice.

“…Search the city for any of Jorndar’s men. Twenty
are still missing.” Tomas bit his blue-tinged lips as he closed his
eyes as though to gather his thoughts. Antano’s brows tightened in
concern. “I am forgetting something.” He rubbed his face with his
gloved hand.

“What are you two still doing here?” Dentin strode
across the bailey from the direction of the armory. “The king is
going to want a report. You both need to change.”

My stomach growled. “And eat.”

Tomas signaled for a horse before turning back to
Dentin. “Are you returning to the camp?”

“I have a few people I need to speak to, but I will
be there. Get your wife out of here. She looks frozen through.”

The horse arrived and we rode through the waking
town. Our passing was noted by wary eyes from child to blacksmith,
a sad indication of how life for the residents had been over the
past weeks. We slowed as we approached the town gate. The guard
came out from the shadow of the gatehouse to greet us. Suspicion
tightened his gaze and mouth.

Tomas drew us to a halt at a respectful distance.

“Where do you think you might be going in such a
hurry?” He circled our horse as though evaluating it for sale.

“The camp beyond the wall. I am returning from
duty.”

The man peered up at Tomas’ face. ”Commanding
officer?”

“None, I am Lord Irvaine.”

The man laughed.

I couldn’t blame him. Tomas looked worse than the
time I first met him. Plain armor, no livery, no insigna of rank,
and looking worse for wear, he could have been anyone, friend or
foe.

“Hold the reins.” He wound the leads through my
frozen fingers. Unbuckling the chin strap, he pulled his helmet
from his head, tucked it under one arm and began peeling back his
mail hood. Digging around his neck, he produced a thick chain.
Pulling it forth, he caught the end and pulled it over his head.
“My signet ring,” he said as he dangled the heavy ring on the end
before the man’s widening eyes.

“My apologies, my lord.” He bowed so quickly that I
feared he would fall over. “We feared one of the madman’s brutes
would escape. I was ordered to question everyone seeking to get
through the gate.”

“Rightfully so.” Tomas tucked the chain and ring
beneath his breastplate and proceeded to redon his helmet. He
fastened the strap and nodded to the gatekeeper. “Just bring a
companion out when you inspect. Any fugitives will be desperate and
more than willing to run you down in a run for the gate.”

The man grinned enthusiastically. “Just let them
try.” Turning to face the gate, he waved at the archer slits above.
“All clear,” he yelled. He turned back to Tomas with a cocky
shoulder shift. “My son, one of our best archers, is up there. He
can shoot the hat off a minstrel at twenty paces without disturbing
his hair.”

Tomas looked up at the slits and nodded. “I believe
it. Keep up the good work.” He urged the horse forward only to stop
it again and swing it around. “What is your son’s name?”

“Pip Huntsey, my lord.”

“If you son is ever interested, there will be a place
in my service for him.”

“Thank you, my lord.”

We left him behind, bowing us out with great
flare.

“That was very generous, Tomas.”

“Nonsense. I meant it. If his father proves to be
truthful as well as bold, we will use Pip.”

The horse ate up the distance between the gate and
the edge of camp in silence. The sentry waved us past.

I didn’t recall ever feeling as grateful to see a
tent before, but the sight of our tent sent tremors of exhaustion
through my limbs. I wanted sleep so badly my eyes watered. Tomas
lowered me down with one arm. My knees barely managed to support
me. I started toward the tent door. Shedding gear from the door to
the bed, I was about to sink into the offered softness, when Tomas
came through the canvas flaps.

“Don’t! I ordered a bath for you. It should be here
within a half hour.”

I suddenly wanted to cry. My knees shook. I didn’t
fight them. Sitting unceremoniously on the ground, I pulled my
helmet from my head and let loose a sob.

“Brielle?” Tomas knelt before of me. “Beloved, what
is wrong?”

His large hands caught my head in the familiar hold.
His fingers laced through my sweaty, tangled mess of hair, thumbs
brushing at my tears. I only released more to replace them. I
couldn’t stop them despite my closed eyes.

“I am going to hang.”

“What?”

He tilted my head up so we were face to face, but I
couldn’t open my eyes. My heart ached so that it hurt to breathe. I
feared what I would see in his eyes when I said what I must.

“You killed Orwin before he could clear me.” Suddenly
more afraid of not knowing than knowing, I opened my eyes.

Blackness. I forgot how limitless and strange his
eyes were. I couldn’t interpret the swirling change in their
depths.

“I won’t let them kill you, Brielle.”

“But you won’t be able to stop them.” I shoved his
hands from my face and turned away. “Don’t you understand? In the
king’s eyes I am a traitor.”

“You aren’t.”

I rounded on him. Was he being deliberately obtuse?
“Orwin’s toady said I was and only Orwin’s word that he was the
only architect was going to free me. You killed him!” I screamed my
frustration at him.

His face remained as frozen and expressionless as the
first time we met. I couldn’t even read emotion in his opaque gaze.
The slump of his shoulders and the dead weight of his arms hanging
at his sides only spoke of exhaustion. I could discern nothing
more.

“I killed him, Brielle, because he was going to kill
Rolendis.”

“You valued Rolendis’ life higher than mine?” I
stared at him. I felt as though a knife had torn through my
gut.

“No. I killed Orwin for the child Rolendis carries,
the life guiltless of its parents’ sins. I did it for that child
and because we already had enough. Mendal will not convict you of
treason.”

“Why? What has changed? Why did we go through this
charade of me going with you on the assault if Mendal won’t convict
me of treason?”

“Because I won’t let him. The king is summoning us
now. There are still a few pieces that need to be put in place. You
have to trust me, Brielle.” He caught my hand, folding it over his
and pulling it up to his mouth. Hovering a breath from my fingers,
he locked gazes with me. “I love you. I will not let anyone take
you from me.” He pressed his lips to my skin.

My heart raced, flooding my limbs with liquid heat.
His words brought tears to my eyes. I already knew he cared for me.
His actions demonstrated his affection from the moment we spoke our
vows. Despite my lack of doubt, hearing those precious three words
from his mouth made my heart swell.

Even as I came willingly into his arms when he tugged
me closer, a part of my brain still protested that he wasn’t
invincible. He was only a mortal man.

“I love you.” I traced the curve of his jaw with my
fingers. “And trust you. I am not sure I trust Mendal.”

“You and me both.”He caressed my knuckles with his
thumb. “That is why Dentin is following up leads to the real
culprits. I obeyed his order to take you with me because it
strengthens our case.”

“It does?” Between exhaustion and the warmth of his
touch, I grasped at my thoughts. They slipped beyond my reach.

The bath water arrived and the moment was gone. We
bathed and fell into bed. He slept heavily, snoring. I rested
uneasily, terrorized by worries and phantasms that twitched me
awake only to greet me when I fell asleep again. After what seemed
like eternity, Dentin arrived to deliver the summons to appear
before the court.

Tomas rolled to his feet, alert and ready for a
fight. I crawled reluctantly from the bed, dragging the covers half
off with me. I ached worse than when I laid down. Only Dentin’s
presence prompted me to keep moving despite the siren’s call of
sleep.

“Is all ready?” Tomas asked as he pulled on his
fur-lined tunic.

“As it can be.” Dentin rested his hand on the hilt of
the sword strapped to his hip.

“That bad?” Tomas reached for his sword belt.

I frowned as I glanced between them. “What are you
two talking about?”

Dentin ignored me. His naturally neutral expression
gave nothing away. However, the coldly efficient way he handed
Tomas a sheathed throwing knife set my instincts afire. Suddenly
completely awake and alert, I grabbed Tomas’ arm. “What are you two
planning?”

Tomas avoided my gaze. “Finish dressing, Brielle. It
will all become clear.”

“No.”

Tomas stopped in the middle of reaching for his
boots. Straightening, he drew in a deep breath.

Dentin rested a hand on my shoulder. “Brielle–“

“No, Dentin, I will handle it. Go.”

The men exchanged a look. Dentin swung around, strode
to the table, deliberately placed a wrapped bundle on the top, and
strode out the door.

“Brielle.” The weary tone in Tomas’ voice brought my
focus to him.

Looking up into his familiar face, I realized how
much I wanted him to be right and how much I believed he
wasn’t.

“Promise me you won’t do something foolish,” I pled.
“I am not worth it.”

The right corner of his mouth quirked.

My hand rose of its own accord to touch the
twitch.

He kissed the tips of my fingers. “Darling, I have
survived this long by taking risks. Calculated choices are part of
life. Marrying you was a risk. Accepting the title brought
benefits, duty, and danger. Every time I ride into battle, I know
there is a chance I will not return home whole. Unlike then, this
is a sure bet. And even if it doesn’t work, I do not regret my
choice. You, my love, are worth every risk.”