Dark Fate: The Gathering (The Dark Fate Chronicles Book 1) (65 page)

“Stop! Stop, I say!” he yelled once more. He needed this man alive, but he knew that to lay a hand on her might mean his death. His hands clenched into fists as blood began to stain Bale’s lips.

A blur of motion came from the hall, and Walina was knocked off of Bale’s limp form. For a moment, the girl still raged, transferring her fury to the body of Dammer, who knelt above her, pinning the struggling woman to the floor. The second doppelganger no longer suffered from the ghastly injury that Bale had inflicted upon it, but the finely made clothes it wore would never be recovered. The old knight’s forearms were drenched in blood. His shirt and coat had been cut into rags.

Banlor quickly made his way around the table. “Nirha.” He pointed to the noblewoman closest to him. “Make sure he still lives.”

Nirha pursed her mouth in distaste, deepening the lines that already plagued her aged features. She hesitated for only a moment before getting to her feet and stepping over to Bale. She knelt and pressed her hand to the battered man’s throat.

“I still live, you old haggard crone.” Bale croaked.

Nirah stood up straight with a look of indignity. “Manners, young man, manners.”

“I have none for you, nor for any other in this room,” the captain groaned, ignoring her admonition. Bale tried to rise but then lay back once more, breathing deeply.

Relief washed over Banlor. Had the man died, his own life would most likely have been forfeit. “Are you ready to talk now?” He squatted down to peer into Bale’s eyes, but mindful of the man’s sudden violence, he was careful not to get too close.

Hatred still burned in Bale’s eyes, but he spoke nonetheless. “I cannot help you.”

Banlor tsked. “That would be a shame.” He stood and began to pace slowly in front of the prone captain. “You have no price, I take it. And nothing to live for?” He kept his eyes intently on Bale. This was his moment to find weakness.

The Pelosian narrowed his eyes but then looked away.

Ah!
Banlor smiled openly. He knew the look of a man who did have a price, but one that was unlikely, if not impossible, to meet. Better, it might be one he felt guilt about wanting. “You have something I want, and it appears I have something you want.” He clapped his hands once and rubbed them together. “This is the part I love most. Tell me, Captain, why is it I should spare your life?”

“You should not,” Bale growled, refusing to meet Banlor’s eye.

“Well.” Banlor put a finger to his lips. “That just won’t do. You see, I have gone to some lengths to see you here alive. I hate wasted effort, and you
do
have something you want to live for. If you want to leave here alive, you’re going to have to share.”

Bale’s gaze came back to settle on Banlor. “It was you. You had us attacked in Riverwood.”

Banlor frowned. He didn’t think the brute capable of such deductive reasoning. He cocked his head. “Are you trying to change the subject?”

Bale persisted. “Is she dead? Is Sacha dead?”

Banlor stopped pacing to focus on Bale, his other guests forgotten. “Let us make a deal, Captain. If you impart some knowledge to me, I will do the same for you.” He opened his arms. “As an act of good faith, I will answer your question. Yes, Sacha is dead.” Kesh’s battered face surfaced briefly in Banlor’s mind, repeating the same words.
At least, she better be
, he thought with a sour twist to his mouth.

Bale made a choking sound in his throat and struggled to breathe for a moment. Once in control of himself, he asked another question through clenched teeth, “Do you intend harm to her sister?”

Banlor shook a finger in the air. “Ah, no. According to the deal, you must answer something for me now.” He took a deep, satisfying breath. “Tell me how to get past City Wall, so that we may enter Stone Mountain.”

The large man coughed. “That will never happen, there’s no way to get past the wall. The old runes make even the gates impervious to harm.”

Banlor straightened with a sigh. He had expected this reply. It was the one thing everyone knew. Banlor turned from his study of Bale to look at Dammer. “Let her up.”

The knight released Walina immediately and she rose smoothly from the floor, straightening herself in silence. Whatever it was that had caused the creature to snap had apparently passed. She was no longer an immediate threat to his prisoner.

Banlor returned his attention back to the captain. “You can do better than that. I want in, and you are going to tell me how.” He looked about and regarded his dinner guests with mock surprise. “My apologies. I seem to have forgotten propriety. We were engaged before the interruption.” His let the expression of chagrin bleed away and said coldly, “You have your duties, now get to them.”

The sound of heavy winewood chairs sliding across polished marble filled the two chambers. The six nobles filed out without a word and were seen to the door by Dammer. Walina came to stand beside Banlor and looked down at the wounded captain with a blank expression.

Banlor’s smile returned in earnest as he looked back at Captain Tigon. “Now, let’s find out what you really know.”

Galen lunged forward, twisting into his father to force the older man’s sword arm outward. The flat of Galen’s blade came down hard on his father’s wrist, causing the blade to fall from the giant man’s hand.

Galen was able to bark a laugh of triumph before something crashed into the back of his head with such force that his vision swam. He stumbled sideways, lifting his arm in an attempt to protect himself, but another blow smashed into his jaw, sending him sprawling.

“Dammit, boy, it’s not just about the steel!” Hathorn yelled. “You have to use your
mind
to survive in battle!”

Bright spots floated across Galen’s vision and his limbs flailed about uselessly, refusing to obey his wishes. He could hear his father’s footsteps approaching.

Large hands took hold of his chestplate and yanked him from the ground. “A man’s body is his weapon,” his father growled. “Not the trinkets he carries. If this were a real fight, you’d be dead.”

Galen felt his feet leave the solid paving stones of the practice yard. His father heaved him with a loud grunt, and Galen went sailing through the air to crash into one of the stone walls that surrounded the yard. Pain shot through his shoulder, back, and head. The taste of blood filled his mouth from a freshly bitten tongue.

“Husband!” Arece yelled. “He is still a child!”

Galen lifted his head with effort, forcing his eyes to focus. The image of his mother standing between him and his father swayed before him. She looked tiny compared to his giant father. A tiny angel. Only the force of her presence held back the raging mountain that would surely crush him.

“He possesses the body of a grown man! By Eos, he will train as one,” Hathorn boomed. Then his voice became dangerously calm. “The day I need guidance from a
woman
on how to train my son will be the day I fall on my own sword. Step aside.”

Galen gritted his teeth and got to his feet.

“I will not stand idly by while you beat our son to death,” said his mother, refusing to move.

“Perhaps he isn’t the only one in need of training.” Hathorn raised his arm with an open hand.

“Father!” Galen yelled. He straightened to his full height as the king’s angry eyes fell on him. “I am ready to finish our lesson.”

Galen shook his head at the memory. He had only been ten years old at the time but had already attained a height of six feet and weighed just under fifteen stone. By rights, he had been a full grown man—physically. Mentally, however, he had still been an idealistic boy, looking for approval from a father who viewed his son only as another tool to manipulate.

That day he had vowed he would not raise hand to those in his service or his family. He had broken that rule for the first time the night of Sloane’s wedding. To his shame, not only had he broken the vow, but he had berated his sister in front of those who would look to her for leadership. Verbally assaulting his sister in public would have been bad enough, but he had also struck a loyal man who had no other choice but to do what he was told.
Damn my anger, and damn
you
, Father, for passing it on to me
.

Guilt washed over him as he walked through the palace grounds toward the barracks. Sacha’s abduction had, and would, affect more than just his own feelings. His childish reaction to the news had caused Sloane more suffering. He would
not
make that mistake again.

His first opportunity to uphold that vow would happen now. He was on his way to inform another person of the grim news surrounding his sisters’ misfortune. Renee was a charming enough fellow. He had made many friends amongst the soldiers at Haden’s Rock. It was true he was hopeless as a soldier, although he did try, but he had strengths that made him valuable. Renee had an undeniable skill with a mandolin and a strong voice that helped keep morale high. He was definitely the type of man Sacha would fall for: sharp of wit and easy on the eyes.

Galen had brought Renee in hopes of surprising his youngest sister. Sacha’s abduction had made the perilous trek with the singer a mistake, in hindsight. The latest on a growing list.
Eos save me from myself
, he thought as he opened the heavy door to the barracks. The structure was as eloquent as the other buildings around the palace but with an added empowerment of functionality. Weapons were readily at hand, and the open space of the sleeping quarters made for easy movement for the soldiers living within.

The giant prince strode past the many bunks and various groups of the Basinian soldiers dicing or resting during their downtime. He acknowledged each man who looked his way with a nod. None stood at attention in his presence, for Galen was not their prince, but he found a respect in their eyes, an unspoken understanding between fighting men.

He approached the quarter that housed the men he had brought from Haden’s Rock. In contrast to the Basinians, the soldiers of Pelos snapped to attention at the sight of Galen. “My Prince,” said the closest man.

“I’m looking for Renee.”

The soldier blinked with a frown. “He tol’ us he was off to meet ya, Milord.”

Odd
, thought Galen. “When was this?”

“Over an hour ago, Milord.”

“I see,” replied Galen. He hadn’t put any restrictions on Renee, except to make it clear that his presence was to be a surprise for Sacha and that they should wait for the right moment to reveal his arrival. Renee may have gone looking for her anyway—they had been here for several days, after all. Galen would have been impatient himself.

“Thank you.” He turned from the soldier. Renee’s absence was a minor matter, really. Galen and his troops would have to leave soon; he could tell the musician then.

A
FTER
Kinsey had realized what the bloody patch on the battlement meant, he hastened from the wall to start searching for some sign of his father. His hopes had risen unreasonably when no evidence of Erik’s death could be found. Those hopes had waned quickly, however, as the hours turned into days of meticulous searching of miles of riverbank.