The Mercenary's Marriage (13 page)

The tapestries reminded her of the one she
had hidden behind the day that Lord Micrey’s castle fell, the day
she first encountered Darius. Almost as if her very thoughts
summoned him, Darius appeared in the shadows along the opposite
wall where three of the lanterns in a row were not burning. It was
if he had appeared out of nothingness. Glancing cautiously toward
Ogert, Brice realized no one else had seen him. Carefully tilting
her head, she looked again quickly. Yes, it was definitely him
standing there, silent and almost invisible. Fear rose in her
throat.
He came alone.

Hameal returned to their group. Handing the
candle to Ogert, he asked, “How long do we wait?”

“Until he comes.” The leader cast a cold
glance in Brice’s direction. Brice dropped her eyes. She was afraid
he would be able to read them.

“He is here.” Darius’ voice carried well in
the vaulted hall. Everyone, but Brice and Ogert, jumped.

Ogert did not even wait to see where Darius
stood; he strode over and yanked Brice to her feet. Twisting her
arm behind her, he drew his blade, and brought it to her throat.
Pain shot up her arm into her shoulder causing her vision to spot.
The sharp edge of the blade bit into her skin slightly as Ogert
brought her around and used her as a living shield. Brice gave up
trying to see at that point. Closing her eyes, she concentrated on
not swallowing.

“I have been waiting a long time for this,
bastard.” Ogert spat over her shoulder. Unclean smells flooded her
senses and suddenly, she was struggling not to wretch.

“To kill an innocent girl?” Darius’ voice was
steady and perfectly pitched, no trace of accent or emotion.

“No.” Ogert laughed and the blade edge jumped
painfully. Instinctively, she sucked in air and tried to move her
throat farther from the blade. “She is only here tonight because of
you. You were the one foolish enough to marry her.” The smell of
decaying food filled Brice’s nostrils. The man’s grip on her arm
tightened as he pulled it higher. Her joints cried out in protest.
They had not been made to move in that direction. Brice began to
pray she would not pass out from the pain.

“Once you claimed her as yours,” Ogert spat,
“you sealed her death warrant. Now watch her die.” Abruptly he
threw her to the floor. Landing on the hard tile on her arm, Brice
felt something give, but it was a small detail that was registered
in the back of her mind. The rest was occupied with the deadly
blade coming down upon her.

Darius did not bother with countering the
assassin’s blade with his own. He had carefully calculated what the
man would possibly do once Darius had announced his presence. Since
every possibility centered on Brice, Darius made sure he was close
enough to stop just such a maneuver. Once the man’s attention
shifted from himself to Brice, Darius drew his dagger with his left
hand. It only took two quick steps. He linked the man’s sword arm
with his good right arm thus stopping its descent and jabbed upward
with his left, sinking the blade to the hilt.

It took only a moment for the body to go
limp, but Darius felt like it took forever. The wound in his upper
arm opened again and he could feel the blood soaking his tunic. It
was only a matter of time before it would be soaking his cloak as
well. In the hushed silence, the queen’s scream ripped at Darius’
ears. He looked up and managed to bring his sword up just in time
to counter another man’s attack. Without thinking, he blocked and
lunged, dimly aware of the fact that others were similarly
engaged.

Somewhere behind him he heard the death
rattle of another man. As he turned, he realized that the man who
had been guarding Brice was now standing over the dead third guard
blood coating his sword.

With great effort, Darius focused on his
adversary.
Hameal.
His surprise almost cost him dearly. He
dropped his guard for a moment and Hameal jumped at the chance. At
the last moment, Darius knocked the man’s lunge to the side and
made one of his own. It was weak. Hameal blocked it easily.

The pieces began to fall into place. Hameal
was the informant who told Ogert about Brice. He also knew where
Ewian lived and probably saw Trenar when he was escorting Brice. He
was the missing link.

Anger rose and with it his adrenalin. The
small burst was all he needed to unarm the man. The sword fell with
a clatter a very small distance from Hameal. Darius began to
realize how weak he was when he could not hold his blade steady
enough to point the tip at the man. The former cook leered at
Darius. Looking significantly at the quivering blade, he started to
stoop toward his weapon while watching Darius.

Out of the corner of his eye, Darius saw
someone move to put their hand on the Hameal’s blade and pull it
out of Hameal’s reach.

“I have him,” a voice informed Darius.
Ewian’s blade came between Darius’ and Hameal. “March, traitor,”
Ewian barked at the cook. “Pray that I am feeling merciful, for I
doubt my king would mind if I added one more corpse to the burial
heap tonight.” Hameal obeyed. Darius rested his blade tip on the
ground and closed his eyes.

“Careful, you are swaying.” Trenar’s voice
came through the haze of pain. A hand supported his back and Darius
fought to open his eyes. “You don’t want to fall on Brice.”

Brice? Where is Brice?
Darius opened
his eyes and turned his head to focus on Trenar. “Where is
Brice?”

“Here.” A voice came from the floor. “I would
stand up, but I cannot even manage to sit.” She lay awkwardly on
her left arm. Lying at her side was Hameal’s blade. Pain darkened
her eyes and he could see new bruises darkening parts of her face
and neck. Dried blood crusted her lip. Her dark hair was messed and
hung in limp strands. She was the most beautiful sight he had ever
seen. Smiling weakly, she said, “I think it is broken.”

“Where is Kurt when we need him?” Darius
asked and smiled in return. Carefully sheathing his sword, he
gingerly touched his own upper arm.

Trenar grimaced at the blood soaked material.
“You both need a healer. I will see what I can do.” He made his way
across the hall toward the doors of the main entrance.

“I guess they managed to get through the
gates,” Darius said trying to distract himself from the pain. He
felt so weary.
I am getting too old for this.
It was not the
first time that the thought had crossed his mind.
But this time
I have something to strengthen it.
He looked down at Brice. Now
was not the time for them to talk, but they were going to have to
do it soon.

“What a lovely couple you make,” Kurt
exclaimed sarcastically fifty minutes later in the servant’s room
he was using to examine patients. “At least she follows
directions,” he informed Darius as he started cutting away his
tunic sleeve. “You on the other hand…” The healer frowned at the
torn flesh before replacing the blood soaked pad. He started
shuffling through his bag one-handedly while continuing to apply
pressure to the wound.

“How bad is she?” Darius asked just as the
healer pulled out his scissors and packet of needles.

“She will be fine. Time will heal the bruises
and the arm.” Kurt switched hands and started sterilizing his
instruments in the lantern he had lit earlier for the purpose. “She
was more worried about you than herself. Your slow responses and
unsteadiness on your feet were her two main concerns. Don’t worry;
I assured her that it was most likely from loss of blood.” Darius
turned his head away as the healer took up the scissors. Minutes
later the old stitches removed and the new covered with a snug
bandage, Darius rested his head against the wall behind him.

“Kurt, have you ever heard of a mercenary
learning a trade?”

The old man’s hands stilled. “What are you
thinking?”

“I am not indestructible and I am getting
older.” Darius sighed. “I cannot go on forever and for the first
time, I find myself wondering what will happen tomorrow.” He slit
his eyes open and watched the old man’s face. It was still. Opening
his eyes all the way, he asked, “Have you ever heard of a man of my
profession doing something else?”

“I have.” The healer did not look up as he
resumed clearing up. Finally, he turned to Darius. “Lean forward,”
he commanded. Darius obeyed. Taking a band of strong cloth cut for
the purpose, he looped it under the left forearm and tied it behind
Darius’ neck. “Don’t use the arm at all, and this time I mean it,
and take this every morning and evening with your meals. You know
the dosage.” He placed a small packet of powder into Darius’ good
hand. With that, the healer left, and Darius leaned his head back
again and closed his eyes.

Brice was waiting outside the door for Kurt
to finish. The healer looked tired and grim. “Darius?” she
asked.

Kurt looked up and an amused smile touched
his mouth, but his eyes were worried. “He will be fine. In a month,
it will be just another scar to add to his collection and bother
him in his old age.”

“May I see him?”

“He is just inside,” Kurt answered. “So do
you two have somewhere to go tonight? His quarters have not been
occupied in months.”

Brice smiled reassuringly. “Karyn told me
that she will have it ready when we get there.”

Kurt nodded and turned to go. Brice had
placed her hand on the door handle, when he called her attention
back to him. “Brice.” He waited for her to turn. “He is coming
around. Give him time.”

Brice opened her mouth to ask what he meant,
but he did not wait.
Coming around to what?
Shaking her head
at the man’s curious behavior, she opened the door and slipped
inside.

The healer had left the lantern lit. A soft
glow from the flame made only half the room visible. A single bed
and chest were against the left wall and Darius sat on the only
chair against the right wall. He did not move at her entrance, so
Brice silently closed the door and leaned against it.

He was pale beneath the olive tones of his
skin. Deep circles ringed his eyes and his scars stood out darkly.
Beneath his eyelids, his eyes roamed; he must have fallen into
sleep during the brief period since Kurt’s departure. Brice was
hesitant to wake him, but he needed real restful sleep. He was not
going to get that sitting upright in a chair.

“Darius,” she whispered. His eyelids stilled
and his breathing changed. She spoke again, this time slightly
louder, “Darius.” His eyes opened and gradually focused.
Painstakingly, he turned his head and fastened his gray gaze on
her.

“Hello, little bird,” he murmured. A shadow
of his usual smile pulled at his lips.

“Karyn and Timothy are preparing your house
for us.” Brice stepped away from the door toward him. “We should
really be heading in that direction.”

“Not until I speak with the King.” He leaned
forward and slowly rose. Staggering slightly, as if not sure the
ground would stay beneath his feet, he one-handedly straightened
his tunic. Brice crossed to gather his cloak from the bed where it
had been tossed. The dark stain made her pause. The material would
always carry its mark. Still, he needed the warmth for the trek
home. She lifted it and turned to help him put it on. Meekly, he
allowed her to fasten it around his neck and lay it carefully over
his shoulders. Then turning, he led the way out into the hall.

The castle corridors were no longer empty.
Armed men moved this way and that, some sporting scrapes and bound
wounds from their long battle for the city. Scattered among them
were servants just returning. No one noticed the unusual pair as
they passed among the lot; at least not until they were crossing
one of the great halls outside the throne room.

“Darius.” Trenar’s voice echoed through the
room and a majority of the occupants turned to watch Trenar
approach them. “I have been looking all over for you.” He glanced
at Brice’s sling and nodded. “So, you have seen a healer then.
Good.” He took Darius by his right arm. “Come, the king wants to
see you.” He guided Darius toward the throne room door. Brice
followed reluctantly.
He needs to be in bed.

Inside, the King was waiting with a group of
men she did not recognize. Someone had brought in a table and
placed it in the center of the room. They had also filled the empty
lamps, for now the room was luminous and she could see clearly the
blood stained floor and scattered weapons left from skirmish.

Trenar led Darius straight to the king and
Darius managed a shaky bow. Brice hung back, forgotten. “Ah,
Darius.” King Jenran acknowledged him. “I have heard everyone’s
account of what you have done for me this day. My queen and sons
have been rescued from the hand of a madman and my castle delivered
into my possession with barely any bloodshed.”

Darius started to protest, but the king
raised his hand to silence him. “I am aware that you are not the
only one to do this. Trenar and Jarn will also be rewarded, but you
are the one that has faithfully served me. You are the one who has
now saved the life of each person in the royal family. This is a
debt I cannot ignore.” Taking a piece of parchment from the table,
he began to read.

“In recognition of the outstanding valor and
loyalty of our personal guard, Darius Aarin Laris, we do decree
that he is released from our service. From henceforth we bestow
upon him the title of Lord Wyner and all the lands and privileges
therewith, including a permanent place on the advising council to
the King. He will have the right to bestow by marriage the title of
Lady to the woman he chooses to wed. The title shall pass on to his
heirs in whatever manner he deems best. The throne of Braulyn will
not interfere with his choice. This decree is binding and legal to
the full extent of the law, etc., etc.”