Artesans of Albia: 01 - King's Envoy (21 page)

Taran was astonished. “The Major is impressed with me?”

Bull smiled. “Oh, yes. That little episode in the arena earlier proved it. She hasn’t tested anyone but Robin for a long while now and that alone speaks volumes for her interest. I don’t know what it is about you, but mark my words. She’ll not see talent like yours go to waste.”

Before Taran could take this in or reply, Bull glanced out the window.

“We’ll have to leave it there for now, I have this ridiculous duel to witness. You’ll get the chance to go over it again tonight when we meet in the Major’s rooms.”

He paused, including Cal and Rienne in his gaze.

“I’ll warn you now to be on your best behavior. This is a very rare occurrence and you’re all very privileged. The Major guards her free time jealously, but she obviously thinks a lot of you. Just mind your manners.

“Now, I really must go and make sure our idiot Captain comes out of this with all his bits intact.”

A thought seemed to strike him. “It might be wise of me to arrange independent witnesses to this. I’ve known Parren a long while and I don’t trust him. I wouldn’t put it past him to try something underhanded. If I showed you where to wait, would you be willing to watch for us in case it goes amiss? I can hardly claim impartiality if it goes to a martial court.”

Taran glanced at the others. “Of course we will. You don’t really think it’ll go that far, do you?”

“It could. Who knows with that reptile Parren? We’d better get going or I’ll be late and that won’t improve Robin’s chances. I just hope to the gods the Major doesn’t get wind of this or she’ll have his balls. Oh, pardon me,” he said, glancing at Rienne.

She smiled. “Don’t mind me, I’m a healer, remember? I’ve probably seen more balls than you’ve had hot baths.”

He snorted. “Yes, you probably have. I just hope we don’t need your skills before the day is out. Let’s get you hidden and then I can go and support Robin.”

Bull led them up a trail through the woods. It wound for some way before he slowed. The afternoon sun was beginning to lose its warmth and the light was dimming as he showed them a stand of shrubs where they could hide. Judging by the footprints on the ground, they weren’t the first to use this vantage.

“Don’t reveal yourselves while Parren and his second are here, no matter what happens,” Bull warned them. “Once it’s over and they’re gone, I’ll call you and we can all go back together. Hopefully, Robin will beat him quickly, but if it looks like there might be trouble, let us handle it. Your impartiality will be compromised if you try to help.”

He left them and they made themselves as comfortable as they could in the fading light. Soon Taran heard voices and then Captain Parren and his two men came into sight.

He saw Bull step forward. “What’s this, Parren? Only one second is permitted, you know the rules.”

“Yes, but we’re not exactly conducting this under military law, are we, old man? If you want to complain to Blaine, go right ahead.”

Bull snorted and Taran knew there was nothing he could do.

“So where’s our young witch-lover?” purred Parren. “Not lost his nerve, I trust?”

Bull balled his fists but answered calmly. “Turn around, Parren.”

Obviously expecting deceit, the sallow Captain swung around. Robin was standing behind him, having come soundlessly—and more to the point, solitarily—up the track.

Taran smiled, thinking, Score one to our side.

Parren however, was not impressed. “Hah. Trying to sneak up like a thief, were we?”

“If I had been, do you think Bull would have alerted you?” said Robin lazily. “I could have run you through already.”

“You don’t have the nerve,” spat Parren.

“I don’t have the need,” said Robin.

Taran was pleased to see the young man had himself fully under control and admired the relaxed way he leaned on the pommel of his sword. He looked down as Rienne anxiously nudged him; she had seen the gleam of steel. She had probably been hoping they would use blunted dueling foils, he thought, but it seemed they both meant real business.

He watched as Parren’s corporal stepped forward and handed the thin Captain his weapon. Parren hefted it, testing its balance. He made a few fancy passes in the air, a show obviously meant to unsettle his opponent. Robin, Taran was pleased to see, ignored him.

Bull stepped up to the corporal to formalize the rules but Parren interrupted.

“There’s no need for that. I propose we fight until one of us yields. Far more satisfying, don’t you agree, Tamsen? Or are you afraid you can’t outlast me?”

“Don’t agree to that,” said Bull.

Robin looked Parren over, as if measuring his strength and skill. “Oh, I don’t think I have anything to worry about. This scrawny little weasel has no muscle except where his brains should be. He won’t give me any trouble.”

Bull rolled his eyes but Parren’s corporal said, “Heard and witnessed,” and that settled it.

Taran glanced over to where Parren’s sergeant was lounging against a tree. His casual posture bothered the Journeyman for some reason but he couldn’t put his finger on it. The man was doing nothing overtly suspicious.

Robin and Parren faced each other and Taran switched his attention back. Bull and the corporal stepped away to give the combatants space. Robin looked relaxed and under control but Parren was like a coiled spring, his thin frame tense and alert.

Robin began the salute but Parren immediately seized the advantage by lunging at Robin’s breast. Taran gasped. The noble he’d killed had used exactly the same treacherous tactic.

“Foul!” roared Bull as Robin barely brought his weapon around in time to parry the stroke. Parren took no notice and Robin, realizing his opponent wasn’t going to play by any rules except his own, threw himself into the fight.

It was immediately clear to Taran that both men were highly skilled. Despite their ferocity, their deadly moves looked like a dance as they countered and attacked each other with consummate ease. Two or three times they came together with locked wrist guards, but always sprang apart again to renew the attack. Taran, trained in swordplay, could follow the moves and appreciate the skill involved, but he heard Rienne gasp at every stroke. She was watching from a healer’s viewpoint, he supposed, seeing each contact as a wound.

Despite the fading light, the combatants were soon sweating and panting. They were so evenly matched that it would likely come down to physical endurance, unless one of them made a mistake.

Taran felt Cal nudge his arm. Following his Apprentice’s nod, he looked at Parren’s sergeant, immediately seeing the man’s furtive behavior. Instead of following the fight as the corporal was doing, this man kept throwing glances over his shoulder, as if waiting for something. His gaze seemed centered on the area behind Bull and in another moment, Taran saw why.

He drew in a shocked breath; a third man was creeping through the trees toward Bull. There was a knife in his hand and Taran stared at Bull, desperately hoping the big man would realize he was being ambushed. But Bull’s attention was fully occupied, trying to watch both Parren and his two seconds at the same time. Clearly, the possibility of a third man hadn’t occurred to him.

Taran stood rooted to the spot, unable to alert Bull.

Parren and Robin had moved farther across the clearing and Taran could see Parren deliberately trying to keep Robin from spotting the man creeping closer to Bull. He held his breath as the man pricked Bull’s back with the knife. The big man stiffened and Taran heard Rienne gasp. Bull backed out of the clearing at knifepoint and both men disappeared into the trees. The sergeant followed.

Dismayed, Taran glanced at his friends. He knew that Robin and Parren were tiring; it was obvious, despite the fading light. Neither had suffered serious damage yet, but it could only be a matter of time. As he watched in an agony of indecision, he saw Parren maneuver Robin around until his back was to the corporal. Suddenly, Parren gave ground, appearing to stumble.

Seeing his chance, Robin made a lunge that should have sent Parren’s blade flying from his hand. Quick as a flash, however, the corporal sprang forward, giving Robin’s back a hefty shove. Robin was unbalanced and went down with a cry. Parren leaped for him like a striking snake, pressing his sword to the hollow of Robin’s heaving throat.

Taran could stay quiet no longer. With Bull somewhere in the woods and maybe even dead for all he knew, he had to act. Followed by Cal and Rienne, he rushed out of concealment only to be met by the corporal, who snatched Robin’s sword and barred his way.

“Oh, no,” he purred, “I don’t think we should disturb Captain Parren just now, do you?”

He menaced them with Robin’s weapon and Cal moved in front of Rienne to protect her. The corporal smiled nastily.

“You can’t let him do this,” protested Taran, indicating the fighters.

“Oh, can’t I? You just watch me. Now, move back to where you were and keep quiet. No one will get hurt. No one here, that is. Move.”

His attention riveted on the two combatants, neither of whom had reacted, Taran allowed the corporal to herd them farther away. Robin, he saw, still lay on the ground, his chest heaving raggedly. Parren, equally out of breath, held his blade at Robin’s throat, clearly savoring the moment.

“So,” he gloated, his voice just reaching Taran, “that’s a win to me, yes?”

If Robin replied, Taran didn’t hear it. Parren’s blade had already drawn blood; one tiny thrust, thought Taran, and it would all be over.

“What,” said the sallow man, “no protestations, no pleading? No begging for mercy? Well, that’s a shame, Tamsen. I would like to hear a little begging.”

Unaccountably, Taran saw the thin man stiffen. His face paled and no wonder, thought the Journeyman, for a few inches of bright steel suddenly emerged from high between Parren’s parted legs.

“Begging?” said an ominous voice from behind the Captain. “Yes, a little begging is definitely in order. But you can drop your sword first.”

The weapon fell from Parren’s hand and Robin rolled to his feet. With astonishment, Taran saw Major Sullyan standing behind Parren, her blade pressing high between his legs. Parren had to hold himself awkwardly erect to avoid being cut.

“Robin,” said Sullyan flatly, “liberate our friends and retrieve your weapon from Corporal Rusch.”

Robin hurried to obey while Parren stood straining upward, sweating far more profusely than he had been before. Robin snatched his sword from the corporal’s hand, much to Taran’s relief.

“Where’s Bull?” he demanded.

The man nodded in the direction the sergeant had taken, and Robin slipped cautiously between the trees. Taran could hear him calling Bull’s name. Soon, they reappeared, and Taran felt Rienne sag with relief.

They came over to where Taran and his friends waited, and all of them turned back to where Sullyan still held Parren motionless.

Seeing them safe, she regarded her captive. Taran watched, almost mesmerized, as she held the edge of her sword between Parren’s legs, allowing him no room to move. He noted with interest that she held the weapon in her left hand.

The thin man’s complexion, sallow at best, had turned waxy. His wild eyes were bloodshot. Considering the amount of moisture on his face and staining his shirt, his mouth was obviously lacking because he kept licking his lips.

Eventually, Sullyan removed her blade from between his trembling legs and ran its tip over his body, moving around him as she did so. Facing him, she stopped, her blade resting against his chest. He was shaking violently. Taran could appreciate how the proximity of such a razor-sharp weapon near the vitals could cause such fright.