Ravenheart (45 page)

Back in his room he washed and shaved, then walked into his office to wait.

Within a short time a second officer appeared at his office. He knew the man, a career soldier from Eldacre, a solid if unimaginative officer named Bardoe Jaekel. The lieutenant saluted.

“I believe I saw the killers, sir,” he said.

“One of your brother officers will hang today for dereliction of duty, Jaekel. This story of yours might see you swing alongside him.”

“Yes, sir, I understand that,” answered the man.

“Go on, then.”

“Just after midnight I returned to the barracks in the company of several men from my squad. We were met at the gates by a young sentry who demanded the password. This was entirely correct. When I gave it, he opened the gates. I questioned him, for I had not seen him before. He told me he was with the Fifth, under Lieutenant Langhorne. I had no reason to suspect him. He had followed the orders you yourself laid down. I did seek out Prelling to question him about the use of southern units, but I could not find him and decided to wait until morning. It was a bad mistake.”

“Prelling?”

“The man you are to hang, sir.”

“Yes. Describe the guard you saw.”

“He was young, sir, not yet twenty, I would say. Tall. He had a scar on his face.”

Ranaud swore loudly. “Kaelin Ring,” he said.

“Sir?”

“He runs Ironlatch farm. He is betrothed to Chara Jace. Lieutenant Langhorne and sections of the Fifth are stationed there. Send out riders to the west. Give them a description of Ring and the girl.”

“Yes, sir.”

“And send Wullis Swainham to me.”

Bardoe Jaekel saluted and left the office. Minutes later Wullis Swainham tapped at the open door. Ranaud gestured the former clansman inside but did not offer him a seat. He looked into the man’s small eyes. “You have heard?”

“She is gone,” said Swainham. Ranaud could smell the fear upon the stocky red-bearded Rigante.

“Aye, she is gone. If she gets to Call Jace, he will hear of your infamy. One wonders how far you will have to go to escape Rigante vengeance, Wullis. I understand rape is considered a heinous crime among the clans, though for the life of me I cannot understand why.”

“You promised to protect me,” said Swainham, a whine appearing in his voice.

“First you must protect yourself. Ring and the girl are on
foot. They will not head west. Too much open country. They will have gone south and then cut northwest through the forest. You are a tracker, are you not?”

“Yes,” Swainham answered miserably.

“Then track them. Find them. Kill Ring and bring me the girl.”

“I’ll need some men.”

“No, no. You clansmen are hardy and used to rough travel. You will catch them the sooner if you are alone. Do this, Swainham, and I will give you ten pounds more so that you can travel south and find a new life.”

“You said I would become clan chief of the Rigante once Call was dead. You said I would be an important man in your new administration.”

Ranaud shook his head. “That was when your … valuable work for me was a secret. It is likely that before this day is out word of your deeds will be spreading throughout Black Mountain. Even when we have crushed Jace, there will be those left alive who will stop at nothing to see you dead. Sadly, Swainham, a traitor is never popular even among those with the most to gain from such treachery. I will furnish you with pistols and a good mountain horse. Find their trail. Find
them
.”

Swainham stood for a moment, then backed away toward the door.

“Oh, and Swainham,” Ranaud said with a cold smile. “If it should cross your mind just to ride south, I shall have you declared a horse thief and an outlaw. Then my soldiers and the soldiers of the Moidart in the south will hunt you down.”

Like all truly weak men Wullis Swainham saw life through a distorting mirror. Wiser men whose ideas and philosophies soared over his head like geese departing for winter were all talk and no action, lacking common sense. Brave men who risked their lives for the clan were foolish and needlessly reckless. Wullis saw his cowardice as intelligent caution
and his failure to advance himself in the ranks of the Rigante as evidence of the jealousy of his peers, most especially Call Jace.

Oh, yes, Jace above all.

He had not betrayed Call Jace. Call Jace had betrayed him.

The thoughts of Wullis Swainham, as he rode his horse along the southern road, were full of bitterness.

His keen eyes had soon spotted where the fleeing Kaelin Ring and Chara Jace had left the road, and he cantered his mount after them. The dawn sun was clear of the eastern mountains now, and Wullis urged his horse up the long slope toward the trees.

Dismounting, he led the horse into the forest, tethering the reins against a jutting branch. Scanning the ground, he soon found the spot where the two had rested. Wullis turned his eyes toward the west. How long had they rested there? The undergrowth ahead was thick and dense. It was likely, therefore, that Kaelin Ring had decided to wait for dawn. If that was the case, then the southerner and Chara were only a little way ahead. Certainly no more than a mile.

The horse would be useless in this terrain. Wullis left it tethered and began to follow the tracks.

As he moved, he found himself thinking of Call Jace and the anguish he would suffer when he learned of the fate of his daughter. These were pleasing thoughts, though it would be more satisfying if the man could know exactly
why
he had earned such suffering.

Almost two years earlier Wullis had gone to Jace. Wearing his best cloak and leggings and carrying an offering of an embossed hunting knife, he had asked for the hand of Chara Jace. The girl was almost of marriageable age, and Wullis believed she had some feelings for him. Not that she had said anything, but he could see it in her eyes when she looked at him.

Jace had listened politely as Wullis delivered his carefully worked out speech. Then he had begun to laugh. The sound
had torn through Wullis Swainham, and he stood blinking and confused before his chieftain.

“Ah, Wullis,” said Call Jace as his laughter finally subsided, “that was a rich jest. Who put you up to it? Was it Bael? Rayster?”

“Jest, lord? I don’t understand?”

All humor faded from Call Jace’s eyes. “Not a jest? Are you insane, then, Wullis? What could possibly have led you to believe that I would allow my only daughter to wed a timid man? No, no. Put this nonsense from your mind. By heaven, Wullis, a man should at least understand his limitations. You are a fine tracker, but you have the heart of a corn mouse. Now let us say no more about this matter.”

The heart of a corn mouse. The insult had burrowed into his soul like a maggot. And as the months passed, the hurt he felt had swelled and grown from hurt to bitterness and bitterness to hatred.

Well, the corn mouse had been among the men who had deflowered his precious Chara. The corn mouse had seen three of Call’s best scouts taken by the Beetlebacks. Now the corn mouse would kill Kaelin Ring and bring Chara back to the fortress. And he would be there when the great Call Jace was dragged to the executioner’s block. Call Jace would live to rue the day he had spoken so scathingly.

Wullis moved swiftly through the undergrowth, following the tracks. The southerner was not taking any pains to disguise their passage. He also noted that Chara’s smaller prints showed occasional scuff marks as her feet dragged. She was exhausted. As well she might be, he thought.

She’ll be more exhausted yet by the time I’ve caught her, he decided.

Wullis thought of Kaelin Ring. His hatred of the southerner was intense. He had watched with awe the fight with Bael, but then he had seen Chara run to him, taking his arm and staring up at him with undisguised adoration. The sight had sickened him to the depths of his being.

It would be good indeed to stand over his body, to make Chara stare into his dead eyes.

Wullis came to a rise before a sharp dip. He paused, kneeling behind some bushes. Down below a group of hunters was gathered around a fire. Wullis saw that the tracks of Kaelin and Chara moved away toward the south. They were seeking to avoid the men below. Wullis had no such fear. With luck, if he took the straight path, he would be ahead of them.

Moving down the slope, he passed the campfire, waving to the men seated there. They waved back and then ignored him.

Wullis clambered up the opposite slope and began to move with great care, pausing often to listen and scan the surrounding trees. He had no wish to be surprised by Kaelin Ring or to get into a sword fight with him. What he wanted was to find a good place for an ambush.

Then he spotted them. They were sitting beside a wide but shallow stream. Wullis ducked down and began to crawl through the undergrowth. Painstakingly, moving inch by inch, he came closer.

Now he was within fifteen paces of them. Drawing his borrowed pistols, he eased back the hammers. All he needed to do was to rear up and blast the life from Kaelin Ring. Just then Kaelin rose to his feet and walked away toward the west. Wullis swore.

Chara swung her head to watch Kaelin leave, then climbed out of her clothes and waded into the stream. There was blood on her face, and her body was badly bruised. Even so, she was still beautiful, the sun glinting on her red-gold hair. She sat down in the stream and washed, then lay flat on her back, allowing the water to slide over her.

Wullis lay very still. Where in the seven hells had Kaelin gone? His hands were slippery with sweat. Carefully putting down the pistols, he rubbed his palms on his leggings.

Chara rose from the water and returned to her clothes. She sat down, and Wullis saw that she was weeping. He could not hear her above the rushing of the stream, but he could see her shoulders heaving as she bent double, her face in her hands.
Blame your father for this, he thought. Blame Call Jace for what you have been through.

At last the weeping ended, and Chara donned her torn shirt and leggings. Then she sat, hugging her knees and staring out over the mountains.

Wullis waited patiently, his pistols ready.

Kaelin Ring emerged from the trees and strolled down to the water’s edge. He squatted down. Wullis cursed softly, for Chara was now in the line of fire. Moving carefully to his knees, Wullis lifted the pistols.

Kaelin Ring stood and moved away to Chara’s left. Wullis surged to his feet. Kaelin saw him. He should have been rooted in shock. Instead he dropped to his knee just as Wullis fired his first shot, the ball sailing over Kaelin’s head. Steadying himself, Wullis readjusted his aim. Kaelin Ring had drawn his pistol. Panic touched Wullis then, and he shot too fast. Kaelin’s pistol boomed. The ball smashed into Wullis’ chest, searing into his lungs. He staggered.

All he knew in that moment was that he had to run, to get away. He heard his name called. His gaze flicked to Chara Jace. She was wading through the stream toward him. In her hand was a silver pistol. Wullis felt his strength ebbing away. She was closer now.

“Not my fault,” he said, backing into a tree.

The pistol came up. Liquid fire tore through his groin, and he screamed in pain and fell writhing to the ground. Chara dropped the Emburley and lifted her knife. Kaelin Ring ran alongside her, grabbing her arm. “Leave him,” Wullis heard him say.

“He has to suffer more,” shouted Chara.

“Believe me, he will. But if you do this, you will always regret it. I know. It will stain you forever.”

“I am already stained.”

“There is a difference. The horrors you suffered were perpetrated by evil men. Do this and the horror will be on your soul and yours alone.”

Wullis heard this through a sea of pain. He thought it could
get no worse, but the fire flared higher into his belly and his body spasmed. He twisted on the ground, drawing his knees up toward his belly. The skin split, and his entrails bulged against his shirt.

Opening his eyes, he saw Chara and Kaelin wading back across the stream.

And all he could do to stem the pain was to scream …

And scream.

The death of Parsis Feld, the owner of the Eldacre forge, caused quite a stir in the town: a married man with three sons and a doting wife. His heart gave out while he was being “entertained” in the town’s most illustrious brothel.

Yet even that news was dwarfed by the revelations that followed. The Varlish community reacted with astonishment when it was learned that forty percent of Parsis Feld’s business empire was in fact owned by a highland woman.

The sons of Parsis Feld were outraged. None of them wished to continue their father’s business but were seeking to sell it and retire to graceful homes far away in the south. Now the amount they could expect was almost halved.

The eldest son, Jorain Feld, took his complaint to the Moidart, and so it was that on a bright autumn morning Galliott the Borderer, with ten soldiers, rode to Maev’s home.

Galliott was uneasy. As captain of the watch he had many informants and had known for some time about Maev Ring’s astonishing successes. They did not concern him, for Maev Ring conducted herself with a commendable lack of ostentation. He did wonder at times what on earth she did with the money she earned, but apart from that he turned a blind eye to her business dealings. Now, despite Maev’s attempts to remain inconspicuous, her name was being spoken all over town.

Galliott reined in his mount in the yard behind the house and dismounted. Maev herself walked out to greet him.

“What can I do for you, Captain?” she asked.

“Is Jaim here?” he replied.

“No. He has gone north on an errand for me.”

Galliott was relieved. The last person he wanted around at this bitter moment was Jaim Grymauch. “I am sorry, Maev, but I am here to escort you to Eldacre Castle. The Moidart wishes to question you.”

“Shall I harness my buggy, Captain, or are you to drag me there in chains?” There was anger in her green eyes.

“Harness your buggy, madam, by all means. I shall drive it for you.”

“I am quite capable of driving it myself, Captain.”

“Very well.”