Duty: a novel of Rhynan (26 page)

Ignoring their sniping barbs, I watched Tomas. The
weary set of his shoulders, the way he fought to keep his eyes
open, I feared he would collapse any moment. Between duty and
worry, he had barely slept the past few days. When he did lie down,
he was restless and dreamed fitfully. He looked up and met my gaze.
I ached at the exhaustion in his eyes.

“You might as well come out and join us,
Brielle.”

Tomas’ words stopped Rathenridge mid-sentence. All
three men looked toward my position. I swept the canvas aside and
stepped into the cold sunlight. The breeze whipping among the tents
teased a few strands of my hair loose as I approached.

“Eavesdropping again?” Tomas’ frown lacked
conviction.

“I thought you wanted me out of sight.”

“Whatever for?” Rathenridge demanded, turning to face
Tomas. “It isn’t as though the sight of her will stir up sedition
in the ranks.”

“Are you trying to pick a fight with me, Aiden?”
Tomas rubbed his face. “I wanted her to stay out of sight so if we
are watched, it will be clear that we are all doing our duty.”

“A wise move considering the blacksmith behind my
tent is working extremely slow in replacing the shoes on my horse.”
Dentin didn’t turn his head. It took every bit of control I had to
resist the impulse to look. Rathenridge felt no such compulsion
though.

“I wondered if he was a novice,” Tomas murmured.

“No, just dawdling.” Dentin leaned over and pointed
to the vargar on the map. “I want to know how you plan for us to
get in there.”

“I thought you were handling that aspect of
things.”

Dentin frowned. “I can. When did you last sleep?”

Tomas’ straightened to his full height. “Last night,
same as you.”

“How long?”

“Six hours.”

“Three,” I corrected him. “He slept three.”

Dentin’s frown deepened. “Go to bed.”

“And toss and turn?” Tomas gestured toward our tent.
“It isn’t as though I can fall into bed and fall asleep. I am
restless and plagued. You know how I get before a battle.”

“This battle is a few days off, Tomas. You have to
sleep or you will be worthless.” Rathenridge twitched a bit
uncomfortably. “I don’t like agreeing with Dentin, but he has a
point. You need sleep.”

Dentin began clearing the maps from the table. “We
will move our meeting. I will send Muirayven with a sleeping
draught.”

“I don’t need it.”

Dentin paused long enough to skewer Tomas with an
intent stare. “I know you aren’t a drinking man, Tomas. I am not
about to press wine on you against your wishes, but I need you
alert. You need sleep. I am sending over a bottle of wine or
Muirayven with a sleeping draught, your choice.”

Tomas closed his eyes in acquiescence. “Send the
wine.”

Dentin nodded sharply, picked up the bundle of maps
and stalked off in the direction of the edge of camp. Rathenridge
gathered the satchel of documents, nodded to me, and trotted after
Dentin.

“I hate battles.” Tomas rotated his shoulders and
then winced. “I would rather be caught unawares than deal with the
waiting, plotting, and nerves.”

He allowed me to guide him inside. He sank onto the
edge of the bed with a groan. “I feel like I could sleep for days,
but every time I close my eyes and clear my mind nightmares and
memories come flooding in to fill the void.”

I knelt to pull off his boots. He tried to push me
away, but I persisted and unlaced the first one. He didn’t even
attempt to dissuade me as I started on the second.

He closed his eyes. His last boot fell into my lap.
“I hate sieges,” he muttered before rolling over. By the time I
placed his boots next to his gear, he was asleep.

In an effort to intercept Dentin’s bottle of wine, I
slipped outside. Dentin’s man on duty outside the door nodded to
me, but made no move to stop me.

“My lady?” Antano approached, a leather flask in
hand. “I thought you were supposed to remain inside unless
accompanied by Lord Irvaine.”

“That is true, but he has fallen asleep without the
assistance of that.” I gestured toward the flask. “I stepped out to
intercept you. The guard is here to account for my
whereabouts.”

Dentin’s man nodded to Antano before resuming his
tense stance.

“All the better that he fell asleep.” Antano handed
me the flask. “He makes a lousy drinker.”

“Violent?” I had seen my share of violent men, more
than I wished.

“His past sins come back to haunt him and sharpen his
tongue.” Antano grimaced. “Regret, if fed, can consume all hope of
the future. At least when sober, Irvaine knows the wisdom of not
feeding his regrets. I am surprised he requested it.”

“Dentin insisted he sleep. He gave Tomas a choice of
wine or a sleeping draught.”

“It sounds as though he has made the best choice,
neither. Keep that far from your husband.”

“Then take it back.” I offered the heavy
container.

Antano waved it away. “No, if you take it, I can
truthfully claim I delivered it.”

He strode away. I retreated to loneliness of the tent
and my softly snoring husband. Tomas slept for three hours without
stirring.

The heavy pounding of an approaching horse woke me
from a half-doze in the chair next to the bed. I cautiously
straightened.

“Tomas!” Rathenridge called from just outside the
tent door.

Tomas sat up, instantly awake. Rolling off the bed,
he crossed to the door before I had done more than gain my feet. He
lifted the canvas.

“Movement at the gate.”

“On my way.”

The horse galloped away.

I met Tomas at the door with his boots and sword
belt. Our joint efforts had him out of the tent and mounting his
horse within minutes.

I turned back to hide once again within the canvas
walls, but Tomas had another plan.

“Come with me.” He extended a hand down to me.

“I thought–“

“Seize the opportunity. I have to go. You can stay
or–”

I took his hand and swung up behind him with a
grimace. His healing rib still bothered him. He didn’t wait for me
to settle before setting heels to the horse’s flanks. We plunged
forward. I grabbed at him, catching hold of the front of his
fur-lined overtunic while my heart thundered in my ears. Beneath
his overtunic, his padded jerkin shifted. Only then did I realize
he had left his breastplate, chain mail, and helmet at the foot of
our bed.

We whipped by men clamoring for their horses in
various stages of dressing for battle. Fear pricked my skin.
Please don’t let this be the battle yet, Kurios.

Suddenly, we burst forth from the crowded camp into
the open fields. Tomas drew our horse up to a stumbling halt for a
breath before whirling us off again along the line of tents. I
could see nothing beyond his shoulders, so I contented myself with
pressing my face to the center of his back. Then, just as before,
he pulled back and our horse came to a messy stop among a group of
other horsemen.

“What is the situation?” Tomas demanded.

“You brought her with you?” Dentin demanded.

“Obviously he did,” Rathenridge retorted.

I managed to look around Tomas’ shoulder in time to
catch the loaded glare the men exchanged.

“Well, look for yourself.” Dentin gestured toward the
walls.

The gates looked much the same as they did the day we
first arrived, except the massive gate was closed.

“Where is the portcullis?” Tomas asked.

“They drew it up.” Rathenridge earned a glare from
Dentin.

“When did the white flag appear?”

I had missed the white flag, but when I looked it was
there. Small and limp, it hung from one of the slits above the
gate. Whoever hung it clearly intended for it to be seen.

“Shortly before I sent Rathenridge for you.” Dentin
shifted. “We have been watching the inner gate ever since.”

“Lord Dentin.” One of the heavily armed men
straightened to attention. “Movement, sir.”

Even as he spoke, a small square of light winked into
being in the black façade of the gate. A figure appeared, outlined
for an instant against the light beyond the gate, only to disappear
when the door closed again.

I blinked and narrowed my eyes, hoping to identify
the person slogging through the mud toward us. Silence fell across
the men as they all did the same.

“I believe that is Horacian.” Rathenridge frowned as
he announced his conclusion.

“It is.” Tomas sounded no less concerned. “Why in the
world would Jorndar be sending my steward out to me?”

“Perhaps he seeks to negotiate surrender.” Dentin’s
voice betrayed his disbelief that the steward came on such a
mission.

“Should we send someone to meet him?” We all turned
at Landry’s query. “It is a long walk.”

“Let him walk.” Tomas nodded toward our army still
assembling along the crest of the hill. “It will give us time to
prepare should this be a prelude to an attack. Dentin, do you have
the Southern gate covered? This might be a trap.”

Dentin’s frown grew even more terrible. “Captain,” he
called toward the men gathering behind us.

“Yes, my lord?” A heavy set young man straightened in
his saddle.

“Take a platoon and march to the southern gate. Send
news of the status when you get there.”

The man saluted and then began yelling orders. A
group of men detached themselves from the main group and started
forming into ranks, as they rode west. I watched them until they
disappeared from sight. When I turned back to check on Horacian’s
progress, I was surprised at how far he had come.

As he navigated the last bit of muddy field to reach
us, I couldn’t help comparing his approach to the first one. His
shoulders stooped and his head hung lower this time. With his muddy
boots and leggings, he looked decidedly less proud than that first
day. Unlike then, he knew exactly whom he wanted to see.

“My Lord Irvaine.” He fell to his knees with a wet
slosh. “I have come as a petitioner to offer the terms of surrender
of the town of Kyrenton.”

“Why does Jorndar send you, old man?” Dentin
demanded. “Does he hope we will not slay you out of respect for
your age?”

Horacian’s face paled, but his voice remained steady.
“I represent the people of Kyrenton, not those of the vargar.”

“How did this come about?” Tomas asked.

“Sir Jorndar took control of the vargar by
force–“

“How many men?” Dentin leaned forward intently.

“Thirty, my lord. I voiced my objection.”

“How many dead?”

Rathenridge didn’t wait for Horacian to answer before
nudging his horse into Dentin’s forcing him to steady his beast.
“Will you just let the man finish answering the first question
before you start pestering him for details?”

“Yes, please, Dentin.” Tomas gestured toward
Horacian. “I want to hear what happened.”

Dentin’s impassive features flinched for a blink of
an eye as he curbed his eagerness.

After a nod from Tomas, Horacian continued. “In
deference to my status as his father-in-law and Rolendis’ delicate
condition, he spared me from the sword. Instead I was turned out
into the town. The town council–“

“Wait!” Rathenridge was the one to interrupt this
time. “Father-in-law? Rolendis married the treasonous brute?”

“Two days ago.” Horacian looked more dejected than I
thought possible.

“She is more of a lack-wit than I thought.”

“Aiden, please.” Tomas’ exhausted plea brought
Rathenridge to silence. Turning to regard Horacian again, Tomas
nodded for him to continue.

“The town council accepted me. They asked me to be
their spokesman in their efforts to petition separately from
Jorndar.”

“Why do they wish to do that?” Landry’s voice took
everyone by surprise again. For such a large man he was very quiet.
“Sir Jorndar is a capable warrior and an adequate
administrator.”

“Hardly, Sir Landry. He is known among the people as
a harsh master. He values the land more than the people’s
wellbeing. He has cut off children’s hands for crimes as petty as
sleeping in his fields.”

Tomas tensed, Dentin frowned, and Rathenridge
glowered. I shivered. The thought of maiming a child for something
so accepted by others chilled me to my core. Men, women, and
children frequently slept during the mid-day break during harvest
and planting. Some nights, I had even slept with the harvesters
when we were rushing to beat the rain.

“Dentin, which of us is making decisions here?” Tomas
asked.

Dentin considered the question for a moment.
“Regarding the security of Lady Irvaine and those things concerning
the king, I outrank you. When dealing with your title, land, and
vargar, I defer to your commands.”

With a curt nod, Tomas turned to Horacian. “Your
request for peaceful surrender is accepted.”

“The terms?”

“No conditions. Sir Jorndar, not the town of
Kyrenton, defected. I see no reason to penalize the people for the
foolish actions of a foreign invader.”

“Thank you, my lord.”

“I do have a request, though.”

“Speak it and I will do my best to see that it is
fulfilled.”

“I request a search and seizure of Lord Wisten. He is
a fugitive of the crown.”

“Consider it done.” Horacian rose clumsily to his
feet and bowed. “Would you also like free passage of the army
through the town as well?”

“Does Sir Jorndar know that the council is defecting
from his leadership?”

“Not yet. There has been little activity beyond the
walls of the vargar, and no communication save demands for
supplies.”

“Then, I would like to request we keep up the ruse
for as long as possible. There is no need to alert Sir
Jorndar.”

“What are you planning Tomas?” Dentin was watching
Tomas warily. “You have that look in your eye that suggests you
already have a plan of assault.”