Yesterday's Kings (18 page)

“And I?” Afranydyr demanded.

“You’ve my thanks as well, brother,” Lofantyl returned. “You also, no less.”

“So now we’re done with thanks,” Afranydyr said, “let’s be gone. The sooner we’re quit of this Garm place, the better.”

He turned to leave, his men lining the stairway, alert against attack.

Lofantyl said, “Wait,” and looked to Abra. “You’ll come with me?”

“To your land?”

He nodded. “To Coim’na Drhu. To Kash’ma Hall. I’ll wed you there.”

“And what of my father?” she asked. “What shall happen to him?”

“I don’t know,” he said.

“Per Fendur would pronounce him guilty—and me! Likely he’d be imprisoned, and I’d be executed.”

“Then come with me!”

“And leave my father?”

They stared at one another and found no secure answers until Abra said, “Do you not go now, you’ll not be safe.”

And Lofantyl said, “Shall you come with me?”

She shook her head and said, “I cannot desert my father.”

“I’d find it hard to live without you,” he declared.

“And I without you.”

Afranydyr said, “Enough of this nonsense,” and slammed his sword’s hilt against Abra’s neck, so that she gasped and fell down unconscious.

L
OFANTYL CAUGHT HER
as she fell and held her in his arms, staring aghast at his brother.

“We’ve not so much time,” Afranydyr snarled, “so bring her with us. You want her, no?”

Lofantyl nodded.

“So we’ll take her with us. Come!”

Not waiting on a reply he headed back up the dungeon’s steps. Lofantyl followed, cradling Abra in his arms.

The Durrym spread shadowlike into the courtyard, Afranydyr in the lead, Lofantyl and the unconscious Abra hustled on by the others. They came unnoticed to the open sallyport and found their horses.

“So, little brother,” Afranydyr chuckled as the Durrym chargers stamped their eagerness to be gone, “all’s well, no? You’re rescued and you’ve the woman you want. Now let’s go home.”

“Before the Garm wake up, eh?” This from Gofylans. “We’ve a ride ahead.”

“I know,” Afranydyr retorted, and stared at Lofantyl. “Well, brother? Shall you bring the Garm along, or leave her in the snow?”

Lofantyl studied Abra’s face and knew he could not bear to leave her.

“You’ve a horse for me?”

“Of course. But not for her.”

“She’ll ride with me.”

“So be it.” Afranydyr beckoned a man toward him, bringing up a big bay charger. “Now shall we depart?”

Lofantyl nodded; he could not bear to leave Abra behind. Gofylans helped him throw Abra across the saddle. He mounted and they set off across the snow-scaped land, toward the Alagordar. Toward Coim’na Drhu.

A
BRA LAY CONFUSED
and frightened across the saddlebow of the Durrym charger. Lofantyl kept a hand pressed against her back as he steered the big horse with the other, and all she knew was speed and the sweetly musty odor of the animal as they thundered northward. They rode like the wind, and even as the saddle ground into her ribs and drove the breath from her aching body, she realized that they put the bulk of the keep between them and Lyth before turning eastward, toward the forest and the Alagordar.

She was not sure how long they rode, for the journey became agonizing, her legs kicking and her head bumping, and all she could see was the moonlit snow glinting under the pounding hoofs. She wailed in protest, but Lofantyl gave no sign of hearing until they halted before a stream that fed across snow-covered grazing land into
the Alagordar. Then he sprang from the saddle and eased her down, all solicitous.

“Forgive me, please.” He touched her face. “I had no other choice.”

“No?” Abra rubbed her aching ribs and waited for the world to steady itself as she composed her response. She wiped horse sweat from her face and studied his. The others dismounted around them, tall men dressed in leather and homespun, and armed with swords and bows. One, she recognized—Afranydyr—who spoke with a hawk-faced Durrym whose eyes surveyed her coldly.

“You’ve kidnapped me,” she said, indignant. “I told you that I’d remain with my father, but you took me anyway.”

“Afranydyr left me no choice.” Lofantyl gestured at the larger man, who now came toward them.

“Brother! It’s good to have you back.” He clasped Lofantyl’s shoulder before turning to Abra. He bowed with cold courtesy. “I apologize, my lady. The manner of your taking was not what I’d have wished, but …” He shrugged. “There was little other choice.”

“Save to leave me!”

“To give the alarm?”

“I set Lofantyl free,” she returned, torn now between anger and confusion. “Was it likely I’d give the alarm?”

Afranydyr opened his mouth to respond, but Lofantyl spoke faster. “No! I owe you my life—but think on the circumstances, eh? Had you remained would the priest not have questioned you? Perhaps set you on the rack?”

“What’s that?” Afranydyr asked.

“An instrument of torture that stretches you until your limbs come apart,” Lofantyl replied.

“Obscenity!” Afranydyr frowned. “The Garm truly use such things?”

“I’m proof,” Lofantyl said. “The priest would have stretched me to breaking had Lord Bartram not intervened.” He looked to Abra. “He’s a decent man, your father. But that priest …” He shook his head. “There’s evil incarnate in him.”

Abra could only agree, and wonder what was to become of her. Lofantyl and Anfranydyr watched her as the others opened saddlebags and ate. The moon was close on its zenith, and the keep lay farther behind than she could believe—testament to the speed of the Durrym horses. The land was quiet, save for the snuffling of the chargers and the soft conversation of the Durrym. The snow glittered all silvery under the moon’s light, and choices stood before and behind her.

At her back was the keep, where—she supposed—her father slept unaware of her deeds. To go back was to face Per Fendur’s questions, which she doubted she could answer. Might he not use his magic on her to learn the truth? And what then should be the outcome—the rack, or execution? Ahead was Coim’na Drhu, the unknown land: a strange country filled with her traditional enemies. She looked at Lofantyl and knew she loved him, and then at his brother, who studied her with cold, unwinking eyes.

“You could leave me here,” she said. “Before long, they’ll know you’re gone and send men out, who’d find me.”

“And you might freeze before they did,” Lofantyl said. “I cannot allow that.”

“Build me a fire, then.”

“No!” Afranydyr spoke harshly. “A fire would be a marker. They’d find us.”

“So soon?” Abra asked defiantly, not liking this Durrym at all. “Shall you not be gone into your secret lands before any pursuit can catch you?”

Afranydyr chuckled sourly, and gestured to the south. “They’ve already noticed, my lady. Likely they’re abroad now, in search of you. You Garm are hard hunters.”

Abra turned. Far off in the distance, light blazed about the keep. Fluttering torches moved back and forth, and bonfires were lit along the castle’s walls. In the still, cold night she wondered if she could hear her father calling.

“And our horses are weary,” Afranydyr continued. “I’d not see them put to the chase until they’re rested.”

“She’ll freeze without a fire,” Lofantyl said.

“Then we’ve no choice. She comes with us.”

Afranydyr turned as if all discussion were concluded.

“It’s hard,” Lofantyl said, “to argue with my brother. He cares so much for Coim’na Drhu, for our hall. We disagree on most things, but in this …”

“So I must come with you?”

He smiled at her. “Shall that be so awful?”

She shook her head, still frightened by the unknown, but comforted by him.

“Ride with me?” he asked, and helped her onto the saddle.

She sat behind him, her arms about his waist, and Afranydyr shouted for his men to mount and they set out across the snowy fields toward the Alagordar.

“W
HAT IN THE NAMES
of all the gods is this?” Lord Bartram demanded when the officer of the watch woke him. “How could he have escaped?”

None could say for sure, only that the dungeons had been opened and a discarded lantern found by the northern sallyport.

Bartram checked for himself and found the cell empty, the lock smashed off and the prisoner gone. The sallyport stood open, deep hoofprints in the snow beyond. He was not in his best humor as he summoned his officers.

Amadis came tousle haired and smelling of Vanysse’s perfume; Per Fendur hollow eyed and irritable; Laurens calm as ever.

“We should have chained him,” Fendur said. “Had you agreed with me, then—”

“I did not, and he’s gone!” Bartram hammered a fist against the table, ending the priest’s argument. “Where?”

“The tracks go north,” Laurens said, “but they’ll turn east before long—to the Alagordar.”

“Then send riders!” Fendur barked. “Capture him again!”

“They’ve a decent start on us,” Laurens said. “It could be difficult to catch up with them.”

Before Bartram could respond, Fendur spoke. “Do it! In the name of the Church, I command you!” His voice was harsh, his eyes bleak. “I want him back! I want—”

Amadis said quickly, “Your wish is our command.” And to Laurens: “See two squadrons mounted. Now!”

Laurens looked to Bartram, and only when the keep lord had nodded his agreement said, “Then I shall, as you order.” He rose with deliberate ponderousness, and looked to Amadis. “Shall you go forth, Captain? And if so, to which point?”

“I’ll take a squadron east,” he said. “You go north.”

“Before you leave,” Per Fendur said, looking hard at Lord Bartram, “shall we discover the lady Abra’s whereabouts?”

“Why?” Bartram glowered at the priest. “What’s she to do with this?”

“Who knows?” Fendur replied. “Save she’s consorted with the Durrym—which makes her suspect.”

Bartram scowled, but consented that Abra’s chambers be searched. And when they were and she found gone, he sent all his horsemen to find her.

T
HE TRACKS WENT NORTH
, and Laurens chuckled, turning his men eastward.