Set to Flame (Flame Series) (16 page)

“Mistress
Alena wanted…” the boy began to provide an explanation, but Garrick was never interested in why his orders were disobeyed.  He reached down and grabbed the boy by his throat and lifted him off the ground. 

“I care not what Mistress
Alena wanted.  I gave you your first order.  What was it?” he asked, releasing the boy who dropped back to the ground in a heap as he began to cough.

“Leave him, it was my fault,”
Alena said coming up behind Garrick to take his arm.  Garrick turned on her, pushed her so forcefully from him, she stumbled backward tangled her legs in the old, overly large and heavy sword strapped to her waist and landed on her butt.  She had changed her clothes.  In place of her dress, she was wearing a tunic and hose, his dagger strapped to the other side of her waist.  Her hair was pulled back and pinned from her face. She had apparently taken care of his objections to her fighting.

“What was your order?” Garrick asked as Marcus redirected his now disgusted mind back to the man and his squire.

“To see to the security of the camp,” the boy stammered, obviously fearing for his life.

“How did you plan to do that by riding on the back of
Alena’s horse?” Garrick asked.

The boy looked from their commander to
Alena who still sat upon the ground and back to the man towering over him. 

“I asked you a question,” Garrick pressed while his voice was a contradiction to his actions, which seemed to confuse the boy.

“I didn’t,” he stammered.

“Is this the loyalty I can expect from you?  If it is, go back to your mother, I have no use for you.”

Tears sprang to the boy’s eyes, and he shook his head emphatically.  “No Sir Garrick.  I will never gainsay you ever again,” he said before bursting into tears.

Garrick turned from the boy, cast a furious glance at
Alena then walked on to the creek that ran behind the camp.  Halvor sighed and followed.  Wade cast an interested look in Alena’s direction, but Marcus’s scowl sent him on his way.  Getting a hold of himself, Harold jumped to his feet following Garrick to help the man bathe.

Marcus walked to stand over
Alena, and he watched her cat eyes take in every inch of his blood soaked clothing.  “Does the sight of war intrigue you?” Marcus asked with anger at her, at himself and at his king thick in his voice.

She did not move as she stared up at him.  He could feel the dried blood on his face he had not successfully wiped away.  He could feel the ache in his cheek where he thought the piece of stone might be imbedded and still she remained silent.  Deflated Marcus stepped around her and went to the creek with his prayer he could wash away the blood. 

~   ~   ~

“I have something for you,” Garrick said catching Alena’s attention as she waited by her horse.  They only spared as much time as they needed at the creek and was preparing to leave the little camp.  She stepped toward him and could not help the smile that broke across her face when he laid the sword in her hands.  Even with the sheath encasing it the weapon felt light.  She took it by the hilt and withdrew it, marveling at how less cumbersome it was than the one she had bought from the old blacksmith in the nearby town. 

She knew this sword she held in her hands had belonged to someone at
Overgrass, dead now, as their king had ordered.  “Thank you,” she replied quickly sheathing it and with an admonishment to herself, she vowed she would never think of its history again.

“What are you thinking?” Marcus exploded behind her, making her jump.  She felt Garrick step away from her and his horse as she swung about to face Marcus.

“I was thinking I would give her a blade she could wield,” Garrick responded coolly.

“She will not fight!” Marcus fairly screamed at Garrick. 

Garrick shrugged, unaffected by his fury.  “She learns quickly and will make a good warrior.”

“She will not!” Marcus declared taking a step toward
Alena.  “Give me the sword,” he said holding out his hand.

“I will not,” she stated glaring back at him.  “There’s not a thing you can do to stop me,” she declared defiantly.

Marcus stepped forward, grabbed the sword from her hands then flung it, to send it saucering into the undergrowth of the forest.  Turning as if he had the last word he walked away. 
Do you think it’s going to be that easy,
she demanded of him in her own mind that was rapidly filling with rage.  She walked to the trees and searched for several minutes before she found it.  A lesser woman would have quit, she had no doubt, as she walked back to the camp picking the thorns from her skin and twigs from her hair.  She strapped the sword to her hip repositioning Marcus’s dagger.  Quickly mounting she fell in step with Garrick as they left camp.

~  
~   ~

“Raise it,” Garrick coached as Wade’s sword came arcing toward her.  They were covering the distance to the next keep with an easy leisure Alena was grateful for.  She used her time to train with the men.  Garrick was a superb teacher which showed her why his men were such undefeatable fighters.  He was quick to find her strengths and weaknesses and used both to teach her the quick lessons she needed. Wade also warmed to the chore, and it seemed there was no part of her day she did not have a sword in her hand.  Its weight became an extension of her arm.  Marcus’s lessons with the dagger were the total opposite.  He coached her in the best way to hold it in her hand, how to thrust and slash and to be prepared to use it with either hand, but he never sparred with her, never offered anything but a demonstration.  As a result, she stopped requesting his lessons and left him alone with his ever darkening mood.

“You’re dropping your shoulder and giving your opponent an opening,” Garrick said stepping forward and taking Wade’s place.  His sword was in his hand and ready for attack before the sigh could even escape her.  Garrick was a superb teacher, but when he sparred with her he moved far more quickly than Wade, and that alone was intimidating. 

“There,” he said as her blade dropped lower than his and she felt the wind from his blade that would have severed her arm from her shoulder, had it struck true.  “Up,” he said as he stalked her.

He struck making her turn as she brought her sword up, took the hit and tried a counter attack.  “There,” he said as she made the same mistake. 

She parried more blows and put him on the defensive several times with her own agile moves.  She learned quickly it would not be her strength that would make her victorious, but her speed and agility and she kept that forever in the forefront of her mind.  Sweat began to collect upon her lip and forehead and still Garrick came at her with his lightning speed.  Thrust, thrust, turn, twist, block, thrust, spin, block.

“There,” he said not pausing in the attack after he severed her arm. 

Alena spun away, her breath labored as she put more than a sword’s length between them so she could catch a breath.  He came at her, she spun, nudging his shoulder sideways with her own as she stepped behind him, raised her sword for an arc toward his head.  Somehow he was there blocking her swing and making a swing of his own.

“There,” he said but stopped in surprise when her sword was there to meet his.  A cold smile crossed his face, and he attacked again.  Her head spun his thrusts and swings were so quick, and all she had a chance to do was defend as he brought onslaught after onslaught against her until she fell backward over a log and landed with a jolt onto the ground.  She lay sprawled out there, staring agape at the man standing over her.  He was lightning striking with unpredictable speed and accuracy.  She didn’t stand a chance if she came up against a man his equal, no one did.

“I do believe Halvor has those rabbits finished,” Garrick said with a nod as he sheathed his weapon and walked away from her.

They sat down to a delicacy of rabbit that went with their usual rations and they all ate heartily picking the carcasses clean.  “We will be to Lilburn and
Helthpool by dusk tomorrow,” Garrick informed them as they settled back around the warm glow of the fire.  The days were getting shorter, and soon winter would be settling over the land, the cold nights were testament to that.

“What is your plan?”
Halvor asked, yawning around the words.

“They are within a stone’s throw of the other.  We must take them at the same time.  Wade and I will attack
Helthpool, Marcus, you, Halvor and Alena will take Lilburn.”

“No,” Marcus exploded jumping to his feet. 

“My mind is settled,” Garrick said in the face of Marcus’s fury and Alena watched her victory wash over his handsome face.  It was not the moment of elation she thought it would be. 

Without another word, Marcus turned and walked into the darkness.  She settled into their blankets alone that night, missing his closeness and comfort, but he was apparently offering neither to her.

Chapter 8

Marcus walked into the night with no purpose, as if the landscape was anything but shapes and shadows in the dark.  The night was as dark as his soul had become.  How could it come to this?  He wanted Alena to take no part in it.  No blood was supposed to touch her hands.  She came only to bury the bodies, but Marcus did not want her to see what they had done.  It was disturbing enough they had come back from the last slaughter covered in blood, but he could not accept this.  He could not, would not allow her to take part in such a thing. 

He turned and made his way back toward camp and the warmth of the fire.  Harold sat next to
Halvor as they spoke to each other.  He paused watching the smile cross the older man’s face as the boy said something.  Halvor replied, and the boy laughed, a sound that would soften the hardest of hearts.  Then both boy and man were laughing, and Marcus wondered what the man possibly had to laugh about.  He walked closer and suddenly he knew someone was near, as sure as he could feel Alena snuggled against him at night he could feel the presence in the darkness with him.

“It is I,” Garrick declared stepping from the shadows.

“I will not allow Alena to fight,” Marcus said.

“
Helthpool is full of women and children,” he said, his voice as soft and desolate as Marcus had ever heard it.

“What?” Marcus asked, knowing he could not have heard his commander right.

“Lord Stevens has six children and his sister is staying with them as well and has seven of her own.”

Silence crackled across the black night between them. 

“What are we doing Garrick?” Marcus asked his voice seemed as if it boomed in the darkness.  “Is your bride worth this?”

“My bride has awaited me since I first returned from the Crusade,” Garrick said with a sigh and Marcus heard the age in his voice he felt was overtaking them all.  Their youth had been so fleeting, and now it was but a distant memory.

Marcus thought Garrick was still a pawn to the king for his well bred bride.  He did not know the woman had already been granted to him.

“We are getting
Halvor his sisters back,” Garrick replied after the silence stretched between them.

“Those lives for how many?”
Marcus questioned.

“Do you think I liked climbing those steps at
Overgrass and hunting those women and children down?  Do you not think that was the hardest thing I have ever done?”  Garrick became silent.  Then he spoke in a voice so soft Marcus had to strain to hear the words, “Wade likes the children.  If I gave him time there are horrors he could do to them, even the littlest ones that would make you tear your eyes from your head.  He likes to take their innocence.”

Marcus did not know what to say.  Such evil cloaked them all, sucking them further down like an ocean tide.  The harder they fought to surface the more it dragged them down and tried to consume them.  “I had to bring Wade because I don’t think I could do it, but that doesn’t make it any better.  It changes nothing because he goes under my command.”

“Under the king’s command,” Marcus said in defense of them all.

“Does the king’s command make you sleep better at night?” spat Garrick.

“It is better that you command Wade and make his actions as merciful as they can be.  Think what those people’s deaths will be if Wade is allowed to do what he wishes?  It does not matter, if we do not do it, it will be done.”

Silence reigned for a few moments before Marcus felt the change in the man next to him.  He knew instinctively it was the Fenton Bastard with him again.  It was his strong voice that broke the silence, “Thirteen at
Helthpool and that’s just the ones I know of.  That’s why you need Alena at Lilburn, it is a family of men.  A father and his two older sons, all lost to drink.  They sold all they had to John for more drink, more and more.  Would you rather Alena fight in a place such as that or at Helthpool?  She has made up her mind.  She will fight.”

“I know,” Marcus replied forlornly. 

“When we finish this task for the King, and he releases us, I have property to grant to you.”

A scoffing laugh escaped Marcus, “The king will never release us.”

“Yes, he will or he will find his throat at the end of my blade and your dagger at his back.  I will play no more of his games.”

“I will be there,” Marcus said.  “Now I must go prepare
Alena for battle.”

“Thank you for your sacrifice Marcus,” he heard Garrick’s voice follow him.  “I know it may be far greater than my own.”

Approaching camp he saw Alena was curled beneath their blankets.  He decided her final lesson in combat could wait until the morning.  He removed his boots and weapons then climbed beneath the covers with her.  In her sleep, she sought out his warmth, and he wrapped his arms around her and prayed for her safety in the hours yet to come.

He awoke to the absence of
Alena’s warmth beside him, making him sit quickly up, looking around him at the camp that was just coming to life.  Alena was stirring up the fire while Halvor gutted the pheasant he must have found that morning.  He ignored Alena’s gaze he felt land on him as he donned his boots and took up his weapons.  To the forest he went to relieve himself then back to the fire Alena had just straightened from.  She was dressed in her tunic and hose, the dagger already belted at her hip, but her sword lay next to their blankets.

“Get your sword,” he quietly said.  “Your final lesson begins.”

Obediently she donned the sword which showed her enthusiasm for the lesson because that was the only way she would be obedient.  This was his last chance to impart the skills that could save her life, and so it was with a heavy heart he stepped away from the fire and waited for her attack.  He did not like to see that she hesitated when he motioned her forward for the challenge.  Sword in hand she approached him cautiously.  Caution in a battle was key, and hesitation had no place.  Caution saved his life more times than he could count.  Finally, she swung on him, and he raised his sword, deflected her blade and began to dance around her.

Marcus tried to find the opening her dropped shoulder presented, but Garrick had taught her well enough and it no longer existed.  Her quickness encouraged him, and he soon found himself on the defensive as she tried to find her own opening.  He tried to take her feet from under her, but she agilely leapt away and met him with her own attack.  They crossed back and forth beside the camp, whirling this way and that as
Alena strove to prove that she was worthy of being a warrior among them.  He counted on her strength not withstanding his and tried to use that to his advantage but found his plan backfired when a hard downward swipe of his sword gave her the chance to use her blade and his momentum to twist the sword from his hand. 

Without missing a step, he palmed his dagger and her gloating smile faltered.  “The battle is not over because I lost my sword,” he told her.  He gave her no time to react but lunged at her, sidestepping her blade, using his shoulder to raise her arm, his leg to trip her and she landed with a whoosh of exhaled breath onto the ground.

“Again,” he said taking a step back to allow her room to rise.  She climbed to her feet, her face a little pale.  Perhaps he had a chance to prove she was not prepared to face off with a grown man intent on killing her. 

Marcus lunged at her and with his strength behind the dagger he swept it upward toward her sword as she tried to regain her wits.  Before she could recover he flicked his wrist and drove the blade downward effectively ripping the sword from her hand.  She stared at him as if the game ended.  Marcus advanced with his dagger slicing toward her, forcing her backward.

“Use your dagger,” he growled at her.  She pulled the blade from its sheath and raised it in defense.

He came at her, swinging the blade in an arc meant to slice across her chest before she could move to block his blade.  “Anticipate and move,” he growled again.

“Well you’ve not shown me…”  Her words were cut off as she moved from his attack, raising her own weapon and slicing back, blocking against the next injury she would have received, a blade through the heart. 

Alena
gained her senses and began to grasp the small weapon as he had instructed.  His next attack he launched was fast and powerful leaving her panting and the loser of the fight.

He gave her no time to recover herself for a battle was no place to hesitate.  He launched an attack from the opposite side.  The sights and sounds of the battles always seemed to be with him.  Even now, the familiar clash of their blades brought it back, to the last detail.  The blood.  Always so much blood he could feel it soaking his clothes, filling the air with its distinctive smell, he could even taste it.   He saw the fatigue in the eyes of his opponent as the desperation drained her.  He had seen many eyes like hers in his battles.  His instincts made him alert to the clumsy moves she was sure to make as she struggled to win a battle already lost.  Each move he made was pure instinct from the many battles before.  His opponent’s mistake came within a moment, she lunged forward, forgetting everything she had learned and focusing all her attention and intent on the blade finding its mark.  It did not.  He deftly sidestepped her, slid an arm beneath hers, his hand shooting up and forced her head still with his hand clamped on her forehead his other came up and his blade moved toward her throat. 

“Marcus!” Garrick called his name as his arm began the backward drag.

He froze, his body growing cold as he looked at Garrick who stood a few paces away, his eyes were of a man who knew what Marcus had almost done. 

He lowered the blade as he released her.  Taking a step back, he watched her turn, and she looked at him for the longest time.

“There was your lesson,” he finally offered bitterly.  He slid the dagger in its sheath and retrieved his sword.  Why did he do such a thing?  It was time to let her do what she wanted.  There was nothing he could do to stop her.  He was tired of this, sick and tired of it all.  His anger bubbled to the surface, and he wanted to leave.  Leave Alena, leave Garrick and leave this accursed country with its evil king.  He didn’t want to be a warrior.  He wanted to be a knight of honor, who protected the innocent, not the one to send them to their graves.  He stalked away, his strides angry, his mood dark.

~  
~   ~

There was once a solid wall around the Lilburn Tower, but it had fallen victim to neglect, the stone allowed to deteriorate, the gate stood half open, the hinges were frozen in place.  Alena moved threw it, just behind Marcus and ahead of Halvor.  They moved without a sound, at least neither of the men had admonished her for the loud drumming of her heart reverberating in her head.

All the way to the tower doors they made it undetected.  There
appeared  to be no one on alert and Alena wondered what they would do if they walked all the way up to these people in their beds.  Kill them, she told herself.  Murder them while they slept.  It could very well be the most merciful option.  She recognized now was the worst possible time for second thoughts, but she was having them nonetheless.  Suddenly she had no desire to be here, to be a fighter.

She nearly shrieked when
Halvor touched her lightly on her shoulder drawing her attention to the open tower door Marcus must have just walked through.  Into the dark interior she crept, only to be met with darkness so absolute she could not see her hand in front of her face.  Alena was faced with another near moment of hysteria when Marcus struck his flint, located a candle then set it to light. 

“Take it easy,”
Halvor whispered as he worked his way past her to take a candle from Marcus and start for the stairs.  Leaving a candle on the cold mantle Marcus came to her, the flickering light he carried in his hand made his solemn face appear tragic. 

“Wait at the bottom of the steps and watch the door.  Stop anyone coming down or in.”  He left her quickly taking the steps two at a time as he hurried to catch
Halvor. 

This last day with the men had been a strained one.  Wade wore an expression of excited anticipation throughout the day.  She would have been feeling anticipation herself, but the other men made a ball of dread build within the pit of her stomach because of their actions.  They left Harold at a rendezvous point where they were to meet at dawn, once their tasks were completed.  Garrick had left him with an affectionate rub on the top of his head and told him to be brave among all things.  Marcus was withdrawn, looking through her instead of at her.  The normally bright
Halvor, even with all that had been happening had chosen today to be morose.  It frightened her to see this change in these men.  She hoped it was merely the result of knowing they were not fighting together, and not some weird insight they developed over years of fighting that left them edgy because they knew something was going to go wrong.

One more she reminded herself, feeling as if the breath she had been holding released a little.  With it was more apprehension for the unknown.  What would life be like for her then?  The possibilities seemed endless within
Alena’s imagination.  She worried Marcus would not be content allowing her to tag along in his life.  Would she be satisfied merely to follow along?  She thought often of what she wanted from her future, but always the answer was lost to her.  She was content with Marcus, the Marcus she had known at Holmesfield.  Not the one the king was trying to turn him into.  Soon this part of his life would be over, and they could start anew together.