The Guardian (15 page)

“Then we go with them?”

“We’ve no choice.”

“Perhaps you are a coward.”

That hurt, and I turned to face her. “Were I alone, I’d meet them sword to sword, and damn the consequences. But I’m not, and I gave my word to see you safe.”

“Into your brother’s hands?”

“He’s no reason to harm you. Perhaps he’ll let you go, and should he recognize you I’ll parley with him—ask that he send you to the Dur.”

“And you?”

“Me?” I shrugged, unable to stifle a bitter chuckle. “Why, Eryk shall likely have my skull for a wine cup.”

“So?” Rurrid interrupted our whispered conversation. “Do you come willing, or do you come dead?”

I raised my hands. “Willing.”

T
hey took away our weapons and bound our wrists to the saddle horns, our ankles to the stirrups. We rode out the night and halted at dawn to eat and rest awhile. Ellyn and I were kept bound, our escort ever watchful, so that I grew fearful they’d know Ellyn for the girl she was. I thought that some were not happy with this duty and its probable outcome, but none would speak to us, save when needful, and I perceived no chance of escape. At least we were fed. I supposed that Rurrid and Athol would deliver me healthy to Eryk, that he might sport with me the longer. I wondered what fate Ellyn might suffer when—inevitably—her true sex was discovered. Or worse, her true identity: my brother was ever a devious little worm, and I would not put it past him to hand her to Talan.

I chafed at my bonds as we rode on through the morning, and through those next few days. I felt I had betrayed Andur’s trust. I should have devised a better plan, not just run, but could think of nothing else I might have done. By the time we reached Eryk’s camp, my wrists were bloody.

The summer had aged by now and the clans drifted along the paths of the seasonal horse-hunt; come winter
they’d return home to see out the snows from behind warm walls, but for now they lived under canvas, trailing the herds of shaggy Highland horses. I thought that Rurrid and Athol would take us east, but they continued northward, toward the Dur lands.

Eryk’s camp was set on a high stretch of moorland, above a wide blue-black tarn all ringed with heather and pines. Salmon splashed in the streams that fed the tarn, and eagles circled overhead. The heather spread in shades of blue and grey, burnished with the golden luxuriance of the gorse that shifted under the stirring breeze. I felt a thrill as I saw the encampment: all clan colors and drifting smoke from the cookfires, horses penned by the water, dogs running and barking to greet us in, faces aged by the passed years coming to stare at us. I thought that in other circumstances I’d have felt joy.

Now all I felt was fear, and a great wonder at the size of the camp and its location.

I knew on the instant which was Eryk’s tent: I had seen nothing like it since last I looked on Danant’s pavilions. It bore the headman’s emblem, but it was larger than our father’s, encircled by embossed poles decorated with horsehair and skulls—some animal, others human—and the shields of those who had pledged to him about the bases. Our father, I thought, had never been so grandiose.

But Eryk was not much like Colum. Folk had always said that I bore my father’s looks, and said little about Eryk save that he’d a temper. Now I saw a man I barely recognized—except for those remembered hawkish eyes—emerge. He was shorter than I, and gone to fat. There was yet muscle beneath his bulgings, but I was startled at the change in him. A beard disguised the swelling of his cheeks and the jowls beneath, but little could conceal the gut that hung above his belt, or the thickness of the thighs that stretched his breeks so tight. I thought that he must need a sturdy horse to carry his newfound weight, which was not only of his body but also in the adornments he wore. His
shirt was surmounted with a breastplate of hammered silver that matched the trappings of his swordbelt and the fanciful stitchings of his boots. The hilts of his sword and dagger were both chased with silver wire, and rings glittered on his fingers, jewels in his ears. He looked to me more like some Nabanese emissary than a Highlander. And I discerned a waddle in his walk that almost prompted laughter—were I not so afraid of the look in his eyes, which was that of a raptor surveying its prey.

Ellyn said, “By the gods, is that popinjay your brother?”

I said, “Quiet! Leave me to talk, eh?”

Eryk waited between the poles that formed the entrance to his splendid tent. Then: “Well met, Gailard.”

He motioned at our escort and we were cut loose, dragged from our horses, and forced to our knees before him.

“And who is your companion?”

“No boy, despite the gear.”

I knew that voice, despite the years. It was sultry as ever, like the hot summer sun on the skin. But I barely recognized the woman who emerged behind my brother. The Rytha I had known was slender as a spring doe, with eyes to match and hair wild and free as the wind. She was never a pleasant woman, but she had been beautiful. This was a different creature. Like Eryk, she was thickened, those big, soft eyes ringed now with rolls of fat, her lips no longer sensuous but only fleshy. Her hair was bound up and wrapped in a mesh of silver set with little jewels, and those parts of her legs that showed beneath her skirt were pudgy as her beringed fingers.

“He says,” Rurrid declared, “that the lad’s his son.”

Rytha chuckled and elbowed Eryk aside—so that I wondered who ruled this tent, this clan—and plucked Ellyn’s cap from her head. Then she stooped, cupping Ellyn’s chin to force her face upward.

“A lad? His son?” She laughed. “This is a girl, you fool. Who is she, Gailard?”

I debated awhile whether to tell the truth or not. The decision was made for me by my charge.

“I am Ellyn of Chaldor!” she shouted furiously. “I am daughter to Andur and Ryadne, and do you harm me—or my guardian—my mother will send armies against you. And my grandfather will bring his clan to war.”

Rytha laughed and slapped Ellyn. I doubted she had ever been slapped before, for her face went pale and her eyes grew wide, her mouth gaping in outraged surprise.

Rytha said, “Speak when I allow you, girl, else I’ll have you flogged,” then smiled at me. “Shall I add my welcome to your brother’s, Gailard? It is
very
good to see you again.”

I heard the menace in her voice, saw it in her eyes. I looked past her to Eryk.

“The girl’s no part in this. Let her go—put her on her horse and send her to the Dur, eh? Treat me as you will, but let her go.”

Eryk laughed, and looked to Rytha. “What say you, wife?”

“That you’ve your brother, as you’ve dreamed,” Rytha said. “And we’ve a pawn in this child.”

“How so?” Eryk frowned. “My brother, yes; I understand. But her?”

Rytha sighed. “Why do you think he’s here? He runs from Talan of Danant like the coward he is, and brings us Chaldor’s heir in tow. What price shall Talan set on her? Or Mattich—he’d likely pay well for his daughter’s child. Either way, we’ve a powerful pawn.”

Eryk smiled, nodding. Rytha prompted him further. “Think on it. We’ve already the Devyn and the Agador by marriage-bond. Do we hold Mattich’s granddaughter, then we can force the Dur to fealty. And surely Talan must reward us greatly, do we give him Andur’s daughter.”

I said, “You bitch!” and she kicked me low in the belly.
For so fat a woman she was quick and strong, and I found myself curled upon the ground, fighting the desire to vomit.

From that undignified position I heard them talking.

Eryk said, “We might upset the clans. The gods know, but some still favor Chaldor.”

“And when Talan seizes Chorym, and Danant owns all Chaldor?”

“There’s that, yes. But what if he does not?”

“He’s a Vachyn sorcerer, no? How can he lose? Ryadne shall soon be dead, or forced into marriage with him. What price then on her daughter?”

“I don’t know.”

“The highest! Talan will pay well for her; and Mattich will likely swear allegiance to save her life. How can we lose?”

I began, almost, to pity my brother—married to this monster.

“Listen, send messengers now to both Mattich and Talan. Tell them we’ve Ellyn in our charge—for sale to the highest bidder.”

Eryk chuckled. “I did well to marry you.”

“Yes. Now do as I say.”

“And them?”

“Put them in a guarded tent.” She bent toward me and I saw chins wobbling. “Shall you enjoy her company, Gailard? Shall you enjoy it better than mine? Do you like them young, eh?”

I opened my mouth to answer, but she kicked me again and took my breath away, so that I could only curl against the pain and feel myself hauled off like some butchered carcass even as I heard Ellyn screaming.

At least we were not bound. There was no need, for we were placed in a tent ringed by armed men. It had some furs on the floor and an empty fire pit at the center. I doubted the fire should be lit and wondered why Eryk did not kill me on the spot. I supposed he planned some longer vengeance.

“Are you all right?”

I found my head was cradled in Ellyn’s lap and that her hands wandered nervously over my hair. I said, “I’ll recover.”

“She kicked you hard.”

I grunted and forced myself to sit up. My belly protested, but Ellyn’s arm supported me, and I was surprised by her concern. “I’ve taken worse,” I said.

“You must have disappointed her greatly, that she hates you so. Did she love you very much?”

“I think she loved the notion of marriage to the Devyn’s headman better—the idea that she rule two clans.” I chuckled sourly. “Now she’s her wish, eh?”

“Was she always so fat?”

“No.” I shook my head. “She was slender. As I told you, she was pretty.”

“But you still refused to marry her.”

I nodded, wondering why Ellyn seemed so pleased with that rejection.

“So what shall we do now?”

I shrugged. “Nothing. There’s nothing we can do.”

“There must be something,” Ellyn removed her arm and shifted a little way away across the furs, as if embarrassed by those moments of intimacy. “We can wait until nightfall and escape. Take back our horses and run …”

“We’re too well guarded,” I said. “And they’d hunt us down.”

“We might reach my grandfather. We’re close to his territory, no?”

I nodded, my initial curiosity at the location of this camp reignited. The Devyn had never come so close to the Dur lands in my time, but even so I could not believe we had any chance of reaching Mattich. I said, “How close we are is of no account when so many men surround us.” I snorted bitter laughter. “Ryadne said you own the magical talent—shall you use that to free us?”

Ellyn pouted. “Perhaps I shall,” she answered indignantly.

A
t dusk we were taken from our tent and brought to Eryk and Rytha. They sat on fur-swathed chairs before the fire. Rurrid and Athol sat in honor beside, and Ellyn and I were pushed unceremoniously to the ground. Eryk gnawed on a steak of venison, tossing the remnant to me as if I were a cringing dog. I spat on it.

Rytha laughed. “Husband, husband, not so unkind, eh? Would you not have him strong for what he must face? Better feed him well, that he last the longer. And the princess, that she not lose her worth to us.”

I felt a sourness in my belly at that, but still I took the plate that was brought me and ate. I was even given a mug of ale.

“What do you plan?” I asked.

Eryk looked to Rytha as if he required her permission to speak. Then: “Why, brother, it is our decree that you shall be stripped naked and dragged through all our camp; then you shall be flogged, and when your bones are bared you shall be hung on a tree to await the crows.”

I set my plate down and rose. Men drew blades around me. I said, “I claim right of combat!”

“You?” Eryk laughed. “A clansman might claim right of combat, but you are not a clansman. Our father stripped you of that when he banished you. You are nothing, brother, save some wandering hire-sword who has no rights save to die in pain.” His belly wobbled as he chuckled. “Oh, I shall enjoy that—watching the crows and the ravens come down to eat your eyes, strip the bloody flesh from off your bones.”

“You are a coward,” I cried, “afraid to face me in honest combat.”

“I am chieftain of the Devyn and the Agador,” he replied, “and I need not soil my blade with such filth as you.”

“You are afraid of me,” I said, louder. “I name you coward.”

That was such insult as would have prompted any Highlander to draw his blade and accept—save my brother. I saw some heads nod agreement, but none spoke up on my behalf. I wondered what malaise possessed the Devyn that none came to my defense. Yes, I was banished on pain of death, but that death should be swift, not flogging and the tree—and even a banished exile had the right to combat. It was as if Eryk and Rytha held the clan in horrid thrall. I stared at my brother, hating him.

But it was Rytha who spoke. “It shall be a slow death, Gailard. The lash shall hurt, but the birds will be worse. And as they pluck away your flesh, you will know that your little friend aids our purpose.”

I glanced sidelong at Ellyn. She sat pale-faced and—for once—silent. “Don’t harm her,” I asked.

“Oh, we’ll not harm her,” Rytha mocked, “at least, not too much, for she’s too valuable. The gods know, Talan will surely pay well for her; but before him, Mattich.” I had forgotten how strident her laugh could be. “Do you not understand? We go to war, Gailard. We ride against the Dur, and even though we’d doubtless conquer them, now we likely shall not need to fight—we’ll offer them a trade instead. Ellyn’s life for oaths of fealty, eh? And does Mattich doubt us, we shall send him
pieces
of his daughter’s child until some finger, or some toe—perhaps an ear—persuades him.”

I choked on bile as I heard Ellyn gasp. “And what of Talan, then?” I demanded. “Shall he accept a butchered bride?”

“Do you think he’ll care?” Rytha gave me back. “He wants legitimate claim to Chaldor’s throne, and can he not have Ryadne, then he’ll take Ellyn—in whatever form. Better a handless wife than no throne.”

In that moment it crossed my mind that I might close the distance between us and kill her with my hands. Perhaps
even slay Eryk, too. But then Ellyn would be alone, and if one of them lived, she would surely suffer. Besides, men stood with spears and swords, and some with bows that they nocked and pointed at me as they guessed what passed through my mind. I chose to live and cling to such hope as I could not truly believe in. I settled and cursed them. “The gods damn you both, and all who follow you.”