Fallen Embers (19 page)

“That would be my father's doing, sir. Rupert had already taken my two elder brothers. Father was convinced it was only a matter of time before he came for me as well. He thought that, perhaps, if I were to be crippled in some fashion—to lose a limb, or an eye, or be otherwise disfigured—it would dissuade Rupert. He could not do it himself, however so…”

“He wished to see you maimed, but he could not stomach the task, so he appealed to Kendrick to do the job—I see. I find myself liking this part of your tale much less. Tell me something; is Kendrick in the habit of ruining young men?”

“Oh, no, sir! But…'tis well known that my lord bears no love for Rupert. You must believe me!”

Conrad shot a curious glance at the lad. “You appear undamaged. Might I therefore assume that Kendrick refused your father's request?”

“He said it would only anger Rupert to be thus thwarted. That he would likely seize me anyway, out of revenge, and…and that I'd likely be torn to pieces by his fledglings.”

Conrad bit back a growl. “You're still naught but a fledgling yourself. And being made Vampire is not enough on its own to shield you from such things. Did your sire not warn you of this?”

“He did, sir, of course.”

“
Before
he turned you?”

“Yes, sir. He said, young as I was, he could not guarantee that I'd even survive my turning. Even if I did, he said he'd have a job of it just keeping me alive until I was strong enough to defend myself—not to mention be of any use to the others. But I did not care! I told him I was more than willing to take the risk. At least this way I've a chance, whereas otherwise I'd have had none.” Tannar's face grew dark. “I've seen what's become of my brothers, sir—I know! And I'd rather have died in the trying than become one of them.”

Tannar glanced at him worriedly. “Please, sir, it's not right for you to hold any of this against my lord Kendrick. If you must be angry with someone, it should be with me. I spoke badly—and out of turn. If I've angered you, I'll gladly bear whatever punishment you should wish to dole out. But my lord has done nothing to earn your displeasure. He has been most forbearing—indeed, he's been kindness itself in his treatment of me. After everything he's done, it would grieve me terribly to serve him so ill.”

Conrad sighed. “I understand. And I will keep all that you've said in mind, but I can make no promises. Kendrick will have to answer for his own actions. I will reserve my judgment about him until after I've met him, and talked to him, myself.”

“But—”

“No.” Conrad raised a hand to forestall Tannar's arguments. “Enough. Do not attempt to change my mind on this. I am done talking about it. I will
not
punish you for another man's actions no matter how many times you ask. I will, however, most assuredly punish you if you continue to argue with me. That will be unpleasant for you, a chore for me, and will reflect badly on your sire. So, lead on. I grow impatient.”

The “castle” to which Tannar eventually led them was barely deserving of the name. All that remained of the large and handsome fortress Conrad recalled from his previous visit was a single, small stone building set within the original castle's crumbling walls.

Conrad's conscience stirred. How much of the deterioration had he caused or contributed to, either by his actions, or his inaction? How much resentment might those who dwelled within—and perhaps remembered better times—still be harboring toward him as a result?

Falling back a few steps, Conrad took a moment to scan the surrounding area, seeking any signs that he might once again be walking into a trap. He sensed a few others—both human and vampire—in the near vicinity, but none were so close, or so strong that they caused him any worry. There was only one detail that struck him as strange. A large fire was burning in the keep's main room. It seemed suspicious on so warm an evening, and in a vampire stronghold.

Tannar seemed not to have noticed anything amiss—which might or might not mean anything. He picked up his pace once they were through the gates and now he glanced around impatiently, calling aloud, “Sire! My lord Kendrick! Where are you?”

Heavy footsteps rang out against the stone floor. “Tannar! There you are, you lazy sluggard. What's kept you?”

“Sorry, my lord!” As Tannar hurried forward to greet his master, Conrad slid deeper into the shadows, in an effort to observe their meeting unseen. “I returned as soon as I could.”

“Yes, well, never mind that now.” Kendrick brushed the boy's apologies aside. “Just as long as you're unharmed. What news do you bring?”

“He's here, my lord,” Tannar answered excitedly. “I've found him!”

The footsteps faltered. “I see.” Conrad could hear the suppressed concern in the man's voice and the shaky sigh that followed. “So, he's come, has he? Well, well, it was only a matter of time, I suppose. And? Will you leave me to make guesses as to the rest? Out with it! How close is he now? How many men does he bring with him?”

“None, my lord,” Tannar replied. “He's
here
. Alone.”

“Alone? Are you certain?”

“Why, yes, my lord. Of course I am. He's come to save us!”

Kendrick sighed once again. “Has he? Well, we shall see about that. But, so help me, boy, if you're wrong about this—”

“He is not wrong,” Conrad said as he stepped into view. “I
have
come alone. As to the rest, however, I will make no promises at this time.”

Kendrick's face went white. He fell back a step. “You!”

Conrad's lips quirked in barely suppressed amusement at the other man's surprise. Clearly Kendrick had not interpreted “here” in quite the same manner as Tannar intended. “I see I've startled you. Allow me to apologize. Had I but known you were expecting me to bring you an army it's possible I might have done so, though unlikely even then. I subscribe to the notion that he travels fastest who travels alone, and your message sounded urgent.” Conrad looked the other man over. “You, I assume, are Kendrick?”

Kendrick's thickset figure was wrapped in a length of patterned cloth, secured by a large pin, in what seemed to be the manner of many of those who resided in these islands. His right arm was either missing or concealed within the folds of his cloak—Conrad could not decide which. He was red-haired and freckled, with a nose that appeared too large for his face and a commanding presence that seemed at odds with his youthful appearance. Conrad doubted he was anywhere near as young as he looked. He would have put his age at several centuries—at least—based solely on the weathered feel of his spirit. “We've never met, but Tannar has had much to say about you.”

Kendrick's lips twisted into a grimace. “I do not doubt it. The boy's tongue is seldom still.” He studied Conrad thoughtfully for a moment longer before adding reluctantly, “Aye, I'm Kendrick, the last living of those sired by Edwin himself. And it's true I've acted as steward here since my master's death—for there was none else to do it. Now, however, I suppose I must cede my place to you, Master, and welcome you to what's left of your holdings, though I doubt you'll find much here to your liking.”

“My lord, no!” Tannar whispered urgently. “He says we're not to call him Master!”

“Quiet!” Kendrick snapped. He shrugged apologetically as he addressed Conrad once more. “As I was saying, I know it's far different from how you remember it and we've little enough in the way of either luxury or even simple comfort to offer you. We've been hard pressed just keeping ourselves alive. I only hope you won't hold any lack of hospitality against us.”

“I understand,” Conrad said. “As I have little use for either luxury or titles, I would be best pleased to do away with both.”

“As you will.” Kendrick shrugged. “I did not mean to imply that we're completely without means, however. There are several villages about. Many of those who live there remain loyal to this House and have ever been willing to serve our needs. So if you're requiring any sustenance after your journey, just say the word and I'll arrange for it.”

“I thank you, but that will not be necessary at this time.”

“Very well then.” Kendrick turned to Tannar. “You, at least, must be hungry. Go and find yourself something to eat before the servants are all abed.”

“Oh, no, sir,” Tannar insisted—and not entirely truthfully, Conrad suspected. “I'm not hungry at all! Might I not stay?”

“No!”

Tannar's face fell. “But, my lord…”

“Don't argue with me, boy. Off with you now! Go!”

“Yes, my lord.” Tannar sighed dejectedly. He bowed to them both, casting one last pleading glance in Kendrick's direction, then reluctantly departed.

“The boy idolizes you,” Conrad remarked, once he had gone.

Kendrick shrugged dismissively. “Well, and why should he not? 'Twas I who sired him, so it's only natural he should feel that way.”

“Natural? Perhaps. But hardly inevitable.” That was something Conrad knew all too well. He had loathed his own sire with an abiding passion that had only grown stronger with time. And while he felt a certain degree of fondness for his own spawn, he'd be quite surprised to learn that they felt any emotion for him beyond a grudging sense of respect coupled with a goodly amount of very understandable fear. “In fact, I find it most surprising.”

“Do you?” A deep wariness spread across Kendrick's features. He gazed nervously at Conrad, clearing his throat several times before saying, “Forgive me, my lord, but if the boy has done aught to displease you, I'm sure it was not intentional. Give me the opportunity to correct him myself. I swear it will never happen again.”

“Correct him?” In Conrad's experience, words such as correction and discipline were all too frequently synonymous with torture and brutalization. “How exactly do you propose to do that?”

Kendrick blanched—a not surprising reaction to the deadly tone of Conrad's voice. Still, he squared his shoulders and met Conrad's gaze head on. “Tannar's a good lad, sir. He's young and…and mayhap you feel he's been badly trained? If so, the fault is mine. He means well but I'm the only master he's known, you see, and doubtless this is all new and confusing to him. Give him a chance, my lord—I beg you. I'll make certain he understands that things cannot remain as they were. His primary allegiance is owed to you now. He should already know that, but I'll make doubly certain that he does. I'll make it clear to him that he's to express a proper degree of devotion whenever he speaks to you in the future. There'll be no more mistakes, my lord, I assure you.”

“Stop!” Conrad lifted a hand to halt the flow of words. “I fear you've misunderstood my meaning. I would never fault either of you for your loyalty to each other. Indeed, it does you credit. When I came here tonight, I had not yet decided what I was going to do about your plight, but your mutual esteem and willingness to protect one another has won me over and convinced me to take up your cause. I will make every effort to ensure that no further harm comes to you or yours.”

Kendrick shot him a searching glance. “Is this true?”

“I have no reason to say it elsewise.”

“Well, well.” Kendrick sighed in relief. “You're not at all what I was expecting. That's for certain.”

“Oh? What were you expecting?”

Kendrick hesitated. “May I be honest?”

“Always.”

“I was half-expecting the same bloody barbarian who murdered my lord Edwin. My great fear was that you'd come to finish the task you'd begun that night—starting, perhaps, with those you'd judged the weakest or most unfit.”

“Such as Tannar?”

“Aye, Tannar. Or even myself. Or one of the others you've not yet seen. There are a few who were taken by Rupert's people who we've managed to recover. They're in a sorry shape and can never again be made whole, but I could not abandon them.”

“An honorable sentiment.”

“'Twas not one I expected you to share.”

“And yet it was you who appealed to me for help. I am here only in response to your summons.”

Kendrick nodded. “I know it. And I do not wish to sound ungrateful, for if you truly mean to help us, it's glad I am that you're here. But I'll not deny that it left a bitter taste in my mouth to have been forced to such extremes.”

“I do not make it my habit to kill those who cannot defend themselves—or
anyone
without good cause. You've accused me of murdering your lord Edwin, yet 'twas I who was attacked. I came here merely to negotiate with Edwin at my mistress's behest.”

“Aye. So you said then—and so would I have argued as well, had I thought it would do any good. But Edwin had his own ideas, and he was not one as was easily swayed. Your mistress's reputation for cruelty was too well established. He wanted naught to do with her and I cannot say any of us faulted him for that. We all feared her.”

“As well you might have done.”

“Edwin judged it unlikely that she would e'er be satisfied with a refusal that strived to be polite. He hoped to send a stronger statement—one even she would understand—by killing her messenger.”

Conrad nodded. “I understand. However, I do not take kindly to the idea of being killed simply to send a message. If I am attacked, I will respond in kind. I pray you will keep that in mind yourself and not mistake my tolerance for weakness. For I will still repay treachery with death.”

“Aye,” Kendrick replied gruffly. “I hear you.”

Conrad shot him another curious glance. “How is it you know so much of what went on that night? I didn't think I left anyone alive to tell the tale.”

Kendrick chuckled darkly. “You very nearly didn't, did you? And 'twas not for any lack of trying, I will give you that.”