The Witch's Reward (11 page)

A moment passed in silence, their communication a turmoil of emotion that drenched the air around them. Larra didn’t know who looked away first, but the next moment found her sitting alone in the cage, staring at the captain’s broad back as he returned to his men.

What had just happened?

Smithen stood on the banks of the river, tapping his foot on the pebbled ground as he waited impatiently for the last two horses to finish drinking. One hand held the long leather reins that ensured the horses would not wander off, the other toyed with the handle of his hunting knife. He had a sword, which he’d left at the clearing in order to give himself more mobility with the horses, but he never left his knife. Touching the weapon reminded him of the task he needed to accomplish before he returned to the palace. The girl needed to be killed, and preferably in a way that left him blameless of the deed.

While he was considering his options, a hard object suddenly struck him from behind. He stumbled forward toward the river, his erratic movement spooking the horses and they jerked back, yanking the reins from his hand and running back to the clearing. Between the push forward and the pull of the reins, Smithen found himself sitting in the water at the edge of the river. Cursing loudly, he pushed himself up, the river rocks bruising the same hand that so recently stroked the handle of his knife. He stood and angrily waded out of the water, cool liquid sluicing down his breeches and sloshing from his leather riding boots. He began squeezing the excess from his garments, angry at the thought of the forthcoming ride in wet pants. It wasn’t going to be comfortable, and he would get his share of ribbing from the other men. He had just finished when an object hit him a second time, this time in the chest.

He jerked up at the sight of the flying creature and jumped back, landing calf deep in the water again. The bat came at him a third time, but instead of hitting him, this time it hovered around his head, its quickly beating wings a buzz of anxious activity. Smithen raised a hand to swat the ugly creature away, but paused midair when he saw the scroll attached to its leg. Instead of completing the swat, he brought up his other hand and smashed them together over the lively animal.
Not so lively any more
, he grinned.

The dead bat dropped into the water and he quickly reached down, drew out his knife, and sliced off the leg with the scroll. The carcass floated down the river unnoticed as Smithen slid the bit of parchment over the fragile leg and unwrapped it. 

His hands began shaking after reading it the first time. After the second, he began sweating. The heavy steps of approaching feet made him raise his head and he dropped the message in the water, letting it drift away to parts unknown as had the bat before it. He remembered where he was and what had just occurred with the horses, correctly supposing that the captain had sent someone to look for him after the horses had returned unaccompanied to the clearing. He stepped from the water and walked up the bank to meet whomever had come, no longer caring that he would take a full ribbing about the loose horses and his fall into the water. He was more concerned with fulfilling what was in that message before the message’s threats became reality.

Prince Christoff was surprised to see the two loose horses galloping back into the clearing. They were quickly caught and a knight was sent to search for Smithen, who came striding back in drenched clothes, excess water dripping from his garments and squirting from the soles of his boots. The men roared with laughter at the sight and Christoff found himself struggling not to join in their merriment. It served the scoundrel right, he thought, to suffer a little discomfort after causing Larra so much of the same.

He couldn’t be more upset with the errant soldier. He had kicked the man awake that morning and pulled him away from the others to give him a severe verbal lashing. He’d threatened to remove the man’s soldier status if he messed up again, reminding him that obedience was required for any man in the king’s army. He had also given Smithen the most tedious tasks throughout the day as punishment, leading up to the most recent, which was to water all the horses without help. Christoff knew the task would last the entire lunch, as the soldier could only lead the horses two at a time, and he’d miss the meal as a result. It was a small enough penance for his disobedience.

After the laughter slowed, Christoff berated Smithen for his carelessness in almost losing two fine steeds. Smithen explained that he had been knocked into the stream by a heavy branch that fell from a nearby tree. It frightened the horses when it came crashing upon him and he had been unable to maintain a hold on the reins. Christoff gave a terse nod and told the soldier he would have ample opportunity over the next few days to make up for his many mistakes. Smithen assured him that no further mistakes would be made, and the men gathered their helmets and swords and mounted up. 

Christoff was beginning to think the mistake with the ropes last night was due less to disobedience and maliciousness and more to idiocy. The man probably couldn’t even tell the difference between tight and loose bonds. In fact, he probably forgot he was holding the horses at the river, which would explain why they’d run off. Smithen was more a burden than a help, and Christoff couldn’t wait to drop him from his ranks as soon as he returned to the palace.

The situation with Larra, however, was an entirely different matter. All knew that gnomes could not lie, that should a man be lucky enough to confront one, he would only hear the truth. As a youth, he had not participated in night games as many of his friends had, which included searching for the beds of sleeping gnomes and waking them to find out whether such-and-such girls were truly in love with them, or whether so-and-so was going to be wealthy and influential when he was older. He thought the games silly and demeaning, in a way, for the woodland folk. He believed them to be simple, yet small people who deserved their peace and quiet in the only way they knew—away from humans.

But their words were accepted as fact by even the highest ranked official, including Christoff’s father. And as Christoff remembered the gnome’s words, “
there is no black within your heart; it is pure as the driven snow,”
he began to fear he might be taking an innocent girl to an undeserved death. Yes, she would have a trial first, and his father would judge with wisdom and understanding. But the laws of the land were firm, and the people relied upon the consistency of those laws for peace. Even if he did relay the information given by the gnome, he didn’t know if his father could free the girl because of the law his grandfather had made. It was a difficult situation, especially since he was beginning to believe that the girl was everything she seemed—innocent of any ill will, brave, beautiful inside and out.

And that was the most troublesome thing of all.

Chapter 11

The light was once again fading when the wagon pulled to a stop at the edge of the campground. A day and a half had passed since the incident with the gnomes, and Larra had found the time slow and uneventful. Almost blissfully so.

The captain had kept Smithen so occupied with scouting, hunting, and a myriad of other tasks that the despicable man hadn’t had a single moment to approach Larra or threaten her in any way. Her luck continued to hold through the night, when two of the other men were assigned to rotate the night guard, leaving Larra feeling safe enough to sleep without worrying that the big blond man would drag her into the woods to her death. Still, she could sense the danger hovering in the air, a tangible promise of things to come. Not for the first time, she wondered if she should express her worries to the captain with the hope that he would keep her safe. Unfortunately, he too had been keeping his distance.

As the men dismounted and prepared the grounds for camp, Larra’s gaze automatically sought out the captain’s location. He was easy enough to find amongst his men because of his height and commanding presence. She hoped she would have a moment to speak with him before they reached the palace, even if it was just to ask him about the gnomes and if what she had heard about them was true. She desperately wanted to know if they really told the truth and could foretell the future. Because if that was so, then there was the possibility Larra would not be executed. Why else would the gnome have mentioned great rewards, unless she was speaking of life after death? It gave her some measure of hope in the bleak hours that passed. 

“Hello, lovey.”

Larra barely had time to register the familiar voice and the rasp of heavy metal hinges when two strong hands grabbed her from behind. A wave of fear swept over her and she struggled to break free from the grasp. She suddenly wished to stay in the wagon—even at the expense of going to the river to wash—if it meant she could avoid going with this man.

She was no match for Smithen’s strength. His beefy hands wrapped around her waist and yanked until she was scraped along the bottom of the cage and through the door. In a last ditch effort, she tried to grasp at the iron rails of the structure for leverage, but to no avail. Her arms were almost yanked from their sockets as Smithen brutally pulled, and soon she could do nothing but let go. She hit the rough, stick and stone-scattered terrain and a cry escaped her lips.

“Shut your big mouth, witchy,” warned Smithen. “I don’t fancy getting in more trouble because you complain from a little tumble. That Griffen fellow volunteered to help with the hunt tonight, so for once it’s my turn to help you down to the river. And you can be sure you won’t be coming back.”

“Why are you doing this?” she dared ask in a whisper.

He didn’t bother to answer. The cruel, vindictive grin he shot down at her did nothing to calm her rapidly beating heart, and Larra realized the fear she felt in his presence far outweighed the anticipation of an execution by fire. A fire would burn, but would be over soon. Sooner still if she passed away from smoke asphyxiation before the burning commenced. But this man could make her suffer for a long, long time, simply for the deranged pleasure he would derive from it. And he seemed intelligent enough to do so without anyone knowing. Larra doubted even the captain could get to her before this man was finished.

Larra tried to scoot away from the threatening monster, but he reached down and grabbed her dress, yanking her to her feet.

“Remember what I told you before, little witchy. Don’t even try to tattle, or it will go worse for you. No one will believe you, anyway. And just in case you’re still tempted to holler, let me remind you that I’ll go back for your grandmother when I’m done with you. And I promise she will take a long time to die.”

He may have warned her against tattling, but he never said anything about not fighting, and that’s exactly what she did. If he wanted to kill her, she wasn’t going to make it easy for him. She used her elbows first, and when he captured her arms, she used her knees and feet. One of her arms pulled free, and the sharp point of her elbow connected with soft flesh. She felt a measure of satisfaction when he grunted in pain, and the sound gave her the energy to fight even harder.

The struggle attracted attention. Knights stopped unsaddling horses and watched with wide eyes as the beefy soldier tried to drag her to the river. More than one started in her direction, but to assist Smithen or herself, Larra didn’t know.

It was the captain that reached them first, the sounds of the struggle loud enough to interrupt the conversation he was having with one of his men on the other side of the clearing. He stepped quickly in their direction. “Hey! What’s going on there? Smithen, you weren’t assigned to the girl.”

Please, oh please, don’t let Smithen take me to the river,
Larra tried desperately to make eye contact with the captain, to implore him in silence for help. But his attention was planted on the beefy man holding her hostage. He didn’t look to her once.

“No, sir. But you had the men decide amongst themselves and I knew that no little slip of a girl could scare me, even if she was a witch. So I volunteered.”

“I recall you already having been assigned to collect firewood. I wouldn’t think that you’d want the additional work. Besides, I don’t know that I trust you with her just yet. Not after your mistake with the ropes the other day.”

“That was just a misunderstanding, sir,” Smithen said convincingly, his voice innocent.

“Yes, perhaps. And perhaps you would prefer not to have the witch around anymore than is necessary.” He turned his head slightly, finally piercing Larra with the impact of those hazel eyes. “But regardless of what you’d prefer, the woman is to be taken to the palace in one piece.”

“Yes, sir,” agreed the soldier, maintaining the façade.

“You complete the duty you were given. I will find someone else to take your place here. Are we clear?”

Larra felt the heavy hand clasping her arm tighten in a vice-like grip. She stiffened as the man’s anger at being waylaid was momentarily transferred to her slender limb. Then suddenly he let go, relinquishing his chance to kill her in favor of keeping the pretense of innocence.

Blood surged back into Larra’s arm, and relief rushed through her body. She took a steadying breath of air. A few bruises were a small enough price to pay in exchange for escaping that man. And she would rather he gripped her ten times the stronger than take her alone to the riverbank.

“Aye, sir,” Smithen agreed again, his voice stiff. The man looked angry enough to break the captain’s neck. It had been three days since he’d first threatened her. Three days of marching to the beat of his leader’s drum. He had to be frustrated. She hoped he remained that way.

The captain didn’t say anything at first, not until Smithen was long gone. She took the time to slow her breathing and to calm her racing heart. When she finally felt in control, she dared to glance at her guardian angel. If he could see the lingering fear, the wariness on her face, she didn’t know.

There was an awkward moment before he turned to survey his men. It appeared he was looking for someone to take Smithen’s place, but the knights, many of whom had stopped their tasks to watch the exchange, were suddenly too busy to pay their captain any attention. It was almost as if they wanted their captain to be the one to take her to the river.

“I see,” he muttered to himself.

“What’s going on?”

He faced her, hands on his hips. “It looks like you’re stuck with me as your escort, though that’s certainly better than that brainless idiot you were with.”

“But he’s one of your men. Why would you have a ‘brainless’ knight with you?” she asked, surprised at the putdown.

“He’s not, actually. He’s one of a couple of foot soldiers who are seeking to become knights. The majority are my own men, but two of them are here for the training experience only. And judging by Smithen’s ‘accidents’ over the last few days, he won’t achieve knighthood.” He took her gently by the arm and steered her in the direction of the river, mindful of her wrapped feet.

“Was the incident with my grandmother a sanctioned act, captain?” she had to know.

He grimaced, his face a study of discomfort and regret. “No, not at all. We don’t harm innocent women or children, particularly old ladies in emotional situations. That was an unfortunate incident, and the soldier was berated properly for it. Such actions are beneath the honor of my knights.”

She was glad to hear that Smithen was an abnormality among the men, and that he’d been punished for the way he’d treated Elane. “I was overwhelmed. I scarcely remember being pulled toward the wagon. I wish I knew that she was all right. She is everything to me—my family, my mentor, my friend.”

Her words faded as her throat choked with tears. She hated thinking of that wretched day and the weeks before it. Her life had been simple, peaceful, until she’d discovered the legacy her mother had unwittingly left her. Now her world was upside down.

“You don’t need to be worried for her; I checked on her myself. She was hurting a bit around the middle where she collided with the counter, but nothing was broken or torn. She will continue in good health, I imagine. Much of your fear was probably due to emotion, as I’m sure it was a difficult day for you.”

“That’s putting it mildly,” Larra said bitterly.

The cacophony of noises coming from the men faded behind them as they made their way through the tall trees and approached the cool, calmly flowing river. She waited until he left her to wait behind a nearby tree before introducing the topic that had been plaguing her for the last day and a half.

“I’ve been wondering about something.”

“Ask it then.”

“It’s about the gnomes.” She paused, not sure just how to continue. “Is it true what I’ve heard about them, that they only speak the truth and that they can foretell someone’s future?” 

His answer came almost reluctantly. “Yes, it’s true. I was taught about them in my studies, just as I was taught of carnies, fairies, and the like. Knowledge of anyone and anything that resides within our kingdom is important to know, especially for someone who is a p—captain. There have been many recorded incidences over the last several centuries of gnomes and their truths and fortune telling. Not a single record has shown them to be inaccurate, in either case.”

“Then don’t you believe I’m innocent, like she said?” she asked as she finished finger-combing her hair. When he didn’t answer, she tried again.“Captain? Didn’t she say I was innocent?”

“Yes.”

“Then why can’t you let me go?”

“It isn’t my decision to make. I have orders to take you to the palace, and that is what I’ll do, regardless of what I think or feel, or what the gnomes might have said.” 

She heard the coolness in his tone and could tell he wanted to end the conversation. Still, she couldn’t help pressing him just a little more.

“Would you at least be willing to speak to the king, to tell him what she said? Surely it’s not such a big thing to ask, especially since it could mean my freedom.”

At first her only answer was the disappointing sound of silence. Finally, she heard, “Hurry up. We haven’t got all day and my stomach is gnawing a hole through to my backbone.”

The response disappointed her to the point that she had to blink back tears as she quickly braided her wet hair. Then she rewrapped her clean feet and carefully ascended the rocky bank of the river.

She found the captain leaning back against the rough bark of the tree. Without moving his body, he turned his head to stare at her. Sadness was in his eyes, and Larra suddenly realized that even if he did speak to the king for her, it might not help. The gnome’s words alone couldn’t free her. There was still a possibility that she would meet the fire.

They began their walk back to the camp in silence. The foliage was so thick that Larra wasn’t sure if they were on the same path as before, and she wondered if they were getting lost. She was in the lead, the captain following close behind and helping her through bushes and over logs when needed. It was very possible that she had taken a wrong turn, but she trusted the man behind her to redirect her if that was the case.

Admitting that she had, indeed, come to trust the captain shouldn’t be such a surprise. By every action, word, and deed, he had shown himself to be an honorable man. He was committed to his job and faithful to his king, and it was apparent that his men cared greatly for him as their leader. He didn’t lord his power over his men, as many in positions of power might. And he was kind to her, a prisoner. Despite his orders to take every precaution with her, he still found a way to treat her like a woman instead of a caged animal.

Unfortunately, while she trusted him with her well-being, she couldn’t quite trust him with her grandmother’s. Which was why she couldn’t stay anything about Smithen. She was too afraid of the latter and what he might do to someone she loved to confide that much. She did, however, trust the captain to get her back to camp, even if it was looking like they were lost.

“Did I go the wrong way?”

“Not the wrong way, just a slightly longer one. Gives us more time to think. Curve to the right by that tree and we should be there in no time.”

More time to think?
She curved right and lifted her worn-out skirts to step over a fallen tree. The hem of her dress snagged on a portion of the dead wood, and she had to pull hard to free it.