Steel and Sorrow (37 page)

He snorted. “You must think I’m an idiot. I know you and Soyjid weren’t close, but never have you talked about him so coldly. And then this.” Tobin raised his cup and showed her the discoloring. “You never let the juice from uliket leaves rest in a metal cup. It causes the metal to change. I wouldn’t expect you to know that, but your brother should have. I’m assuming he gave the poison to you.” He laughed. “You know that part of a Kifzo’s training is to know various poisons.”

Odala’s hand slid under the sheet. It shot out holding a dagger. Tobin caught her wrist with his free hand and nearly broke it in half as he shook the blade effortlessly from it.

“Did you ever love me? Or was it all a lie?” asked Tobin, his voice heavy.

Odala lied. “Never.” She spat in his face.

Tobin’s hand seized her by the jaw with such force she saw stars. She pushed air from her lungs in an attempt to scream, but warm liquid drowned her attempts. The liquid ended and she felt an intense pain in her lower abdomen that climbed up to her rib cage. She looked down and saw her insides spill out onto the sheets.

* * *

Tobin stared at Odala’s mutilated body. His stomach rolled in nausea. Never had he let his guard down so much with another person.

His rage had surprised him.

The poison would have been enough to kill her, but the blade felt necessary. He had wanted her to feel a small portion of the pain that writhed in his gut.

Except her pain is gone.

He choked on his sobs as he carefully wrapped her body. He hated and loved her all the same.

* * *

Though Tobin wept in private over Odala’s death, he managed to pull himself together enough the next morning to burn her body. He watched for hours as the flames danced across her carcass. He finally had enough and spat on her remains.

When he returned to his men, his mind had never been clearer.

Tobin had gained significant information about Charu from Soyjid after Nachun had left them alone. He knew the man’s weakness and intended to exploit it through the use of his best and most trusted Kifzo.

Let him suffer.

Chapter 26

Conroy walked to his armory with narrowed eyes, carefully inspecting the items his blacksmiths churned out. He ran his fingers over the seams of a newly finished helm, admiring the craftsmanship. He had been careful in hiring men to work his forges and did not consider it boasting to call them the best in Cadonia.

“Good job, Harun. As usual, I cannot find any fault with your work.”

The head blacksmith beamed with pride. “Thank you, my lord. The men will be pleased to hear that.”

Conroy clasped the man on the shoulder. “Then I’ll let you get back to them.”

“Same time tomorrow?” asked Harun with a knowing smile.

“Of course. I have to keep you honest.” He didn’t really believe that Harun’s eye for quality would wane if Conroy skipped a day of inspections or even fifty. Yet, Conroy knew how much his approval meant to his men and did not wish to disappoint them.

Harun bowed. “Until then, my lord.”

The blacksmith left and Conroy heard the slamming of great double doors on the far side of the armory. His chief aide, Ventrin, hurried toward him. He carried a letter in his hand and a young man with floppy hair followed at his heels. Ventrin wore a look of concern.

“What is it?” asked Conroy as the man neared.

“My lord,” whispered Ventrin. “We’ve received some grave news about Lord Bronn.” His eyes flitted around to make sure no one eavesdropped.

Conroy nodded and walked toward a door on the right. They entered a small storage room without windows and home to a lone candle. Though the meeting place lacked comfort, Conroy trusted its security. The door closed, muffling the sounds of the busy forge.

“Did you deliver the message, Private?”

“Yes, my lord” said the man, bowing.

“Let’s hear it then,”

“Sir, all of the information should be outlined in the letter.”

“I assume you are privy to whatever is in the letter and probably witnessed the events, correct?”

“Yes, my lord.”

“Then I want to hear it from you. Some things a letter cannot convey. And cut down on some of the ‘Yes, my lords.’ We’re in private now and we both know who I am. But spare no details in the news.”

The boy relaxed and told the tale of how Bronn first went to Tomalt’s aid as planned, then the details of Kaz’s victory, and lastly Bronn’s capture. Conroy listened intently, only going back to ask questions after the boy had finished. The private relayed the information well.

“My lord, what shall we do now?” asked Ventrin.

“We’ll continue on as before.”

“But what about Kaz’s victory and Bronn’s capture?”

Conroy looked to the private. “You’re dismissed. Get some food and rest. I’ll have a reply for you in the morning.”

The messenger saluted. “Yes, sir.”

After the door closed behind the private, Conroy looked to Ventrin and answered his question. “Neither has an impact on my strategy. Though I had hoped for Kaz to take greater losses, I honestly didn’t expect him to lose.”

The positioning of his forces was ingenious. Strangely familiar.

Conroy continued. “You see Ventrin, it was only a matter of time before Bronn did something stupid and allowed his arrogance to get the better of him. I simply picked the place for him to make a mistake so it worked to my advantage. He helped soften the queen’s army, and based on what we heard from the private, his actions likely ended any chance Tomalt had of victory. Best of all, Kaz has divided his army again in order to chase two sets of foes.”

“So we won’t attempt to negotiate Bronn’s release?”

Conroy chuckled. “Of course not. He’s served his purpose. I’ve been in communications with Bronn’s general in anticipation of this. He has his orders.”

“To join up with Markus?” asked Ventrin.

Conroy shook his head. “No, Markus has his own set of tasks to tend to at the moment. The remainder of Bronn’s troops will join up with the foreign army I have coming in from the southeast.”

“I don’t understand. The only thing to the southeast is the Ghals and they never involve themselves in disputes outside of their lands.”

The corners of Conroy’s mouth turned up. “Never say never.”

Chapter 27

Elyse lay flat in the bed of the wagon. Several members of Olasi’s family joined her along with barrels of salted pork and a sack of flour. The smell of the pork had already saturated her, and the powder from the leaky bag of flour sent dust into the air with each bump the wagon’s wheels struck on the old country road.

Their escape from the back entrance of the dungeon went easily. They made it out of the city and into the woods without any problems. The party came across a family of merchants a mile into their journey and secured three wagons from them. Kroke had been ready to kill the group if needed, but by mere chance, one of Olasi’s grandchildren recognized the family.

The merchants fled the city to get away from Markus’ rule and were eager to help in their escape. The family threw out much of their goods into the woods so that Olasi’s family could hide easily underneath the thick tarps covering the wagon beds. Taking Ermail’s advice, Elyse chose to keep her identity a secret and pretended to be a distant cousin.

Kroke, Niken, and Geran pretended to be hired guards.

Elyse winced as the wagon rattled over a particularly rough patch. The last jolt banged her elbow and she audibly groaned.

“Are you alright?” asked Lobella.

Elyse’s servant had been more quiet than usual since their imprisonment and other than panicked breathing had said little until now. Lobella’s pale face spoke volumes for how the recent events had affected her. Elyse squeezed her hand. “I’m fine.”

“If you can’t stay silent, then keep your blasted voices down at least,” hissed Kroke from above.

Elyse couldn’t see the mercenary, but she felt every bit of his displeasure. The jaded bitterness that had lined Kroke’s voice when she first met him had returned. She couldn’t recall when it had softened and they became friends, but for over a year she had considered him one. His attitude toward her had shifted again and she had no clue why.

Something I did? That look he gave me in the dungeons—it was like it came from someone I never knew.

A touch of Elyse’s other arm preceded a hushed whisper from Arine. “How can you travel with someone like that? He is so . . . uncivilized. He actually enjoys killing. And the way he talks to you. The looks he gives all of us. I’m more frightened of him than I was of Uncle Markus.”

A day earlier she might have passionately defended Kroke, but after their escape she no longer knew what to do.

He’s a good person. I know the kind of person he really is. At least I think I do.

“Everything will be fine,” whispered Elyse, unsure what else she could say to ease Arine’s mind when her own kept drifting to places she wanted to avoid.

* * *

Kroke stared past the horses and down the dark dirt road. The merchant next to him had tried to make small talk, but after a glare the man got the message. The merchant had been nice enough to give him fresh clothes in order to escape the blood caking his own, but the last thing Kroke wanted to do was talk.

Kroke felt the man’s uneasiness at the reins, casting a sidelong glance his way as the mercenary worked his knives methodically over a whetstone. The blades didn’t need as much attention as Kroke gave them, but the killer fell back into old habits when he needed to steady his nerves.

Kroke could handle the merchant’s unease and even the looks of disdain and horror from Olasi’s family. Those he had grown accustomed to over his life. However, he doubted he would forget the look Elyse gave him in the dungeons. Nor would he forget feeling so angry and ashamed at himself when he simply did what needed doing to save their lives.

Maybe I could have killed the last guardsmen quicker, but at that point I didn’t care. Maybe Elyse is right for the look she gave me. I’m a cold-blooded killer and I need to get back to those who understand me.

The Hell Patrol would not question or look down upon him for his actions.

They would defend me just as I would defend them.

Kroke strained his ears and listened to Elyse’s shaky voice when she addressed Arine’s whispered concerns. She didn’t stand up for him as she once had.

* * *

After the hopeful first few hours on the road out of Lucartias, the next week turned dismal. The merchants knew of a secret cave used to avoid bandits and the party took refuge there after the first morning. The cave allowed them to avoid notice from the eventual passing of soldiers searching the roads.

Duke Olasi died that first day. Without any healer to treat him, the illness became too much for the old man to fight. All cried except for Kroke who offered to bury the body. Everyone protested at first, saying the former duke deserved much better than to be left in the woods and forgotten. However, Elyse understood that Olasi would not get a funeral befitting of his life, and they could not take his body with him when they finally resumed their travels. She let Kroke dispose of the body so long as he marked it well enough that it could be retrieved after the war. None were happy about the decision, but in the end all consented.

Ermail became almost catatonic afterward, curling up in a ball in the back of the cave, not speaking to anyone. Two days later, she passed. Most agreed that she died of a broken heart. Kroke placed her body next to Olasi’s and marked it accordingly.

Little was said in the days that followed until finally Kroke reasoned that the search for them had moved on.

They resumed their journey northwest, traveling at night while Kroke and her guards took turns with watch during the day. Based on information gleaned from random travelers on the road, they steered toward Kaz’s most recent whereabouts.

After weeks in the country, they passed from Markus’ lands and crossed into Tomalt’s territory. Clothes hung loose on their thinner frames. Everyone rode out in the open since few would recognize them this far from Lucartias.

What queen would be stupid enough to travel a war torn land in the back of a beat up wagon? A queen who let her emotions get in the way of the facts around her
.

With little else to do but stay alive, Elyse spent her time dwelling on some of her poor decisions—such as her handling of Illyan. She also thought a lot about Kaz. She missed him greatly and hoped that he and the rest of her army had been able to cope with Markus’ actions.

Elyse glanced over to Kroke who cleaned his knife while wearing a scowl that would put Kaz to shame.

“I don’t understand,” said Lobella in a soft whisper.

Elyse jumped. “I’m sorry. What don’t you understand?”

“Why you’re so concerned with him?”

“Is it that obvious?” she asked.

“Yes. You’ve been staring at him for quite a while.”

“I just . . . he’s done a lot for me and I know I’ve upset him in some way.”

“Can’t you just ask him?” Lobella posed the obvious question as though the thought had never crossed Elyse’s mind.

“It’s not something I want to discuss where others can hear and Kroke refuses to speak to me in private. He’s even started using Niken as a go-between to avoid even the simplest of contact.” She paused. “I wish he would just talk to me.”

* * *

After several nights of traveling, a faint light shone out in the distance and at first Kroke thought the night played tricks on his eyes. But the one light doubled, then doubled again, until Kroke realized he gazed upon windows to a large inn situated near a crossroads.

He wanted to push past the inn lest they attract notice. Many who frequented such establishments made note of every passerby, never knowing when that information might be worth a few coppers. Kroke made that point to Niken when the guardsmen asked about stopping.

“You’re right, but we could use some news ourselves,” said Niken. “We don’t even know if we’re still heading in the right direction. We need specifics or we’re liable to run into real trouble.”