Read Epic Of Palins 01 - Dagger Star Online
Authors: Elizabeth Vaughan
The girl lifted her arm, and pointed at a long red burn on the underside of her forearm.
“I left them for only a moment,” Larrisa said softly.
Farasa crowed, and banged the table with her spoon.
“We’re leaving, Therrin.” Larrisa repeated. “As soon as the others gather here, we’ll be off.”
“Where to?” Josiah asked.
Larrisa sighed. “Edenrich does not welcome folk, and I fear that wanderers are not welcome in Penature or Swift’s Port. Athelbryght is in ruins. We’ve decided to risk the bog road and try to reach the Free City of Oxfair. We’ve heard that laborers are welcome—”
“We could stay, Ma,” Therrin announced, his mouth full of bread and his eyes full of pride. “I can fight.”
Larrisa gave him a mother’s eye. “I’d rather it not come to that.”
Oris sighed, and pushed his plate back. “Thank ye, Lady. I was very empty.”
“As to that, I’ve a favor to ask in return, if you would.” Larrisa spoke quietly.
“What aid do you need?” Red asked
The fire crackled in the hearth softly as they waited for her to continue. Therrin got down and hugged his mom. Larrisa glanced out the window, toward the stables.
Bethral spoke. “You said something about a sick horse.”
“Three weeks ago, my man was killed, and our horses taken. But one, a mare he had raised by hand, well…she was tied in the smithy and they didn’t get her. She was Jeran’s pride and joy.
But since we buried him, the horse has not been eating, and I can barely get her to drink.” Larrisa stopped and swallowed hard. She wrapped an arm around her son’s waist. There was total silence in the room. “It needs doing, for the lass’s not coming around. I won’t let Therrin do it, and I can’t…I can’t…”
Bethral interrupted softly. “I will aid you.”
Larrisa nodded. She drew a deep breath, then gently eased her son away from her. “Therrin, take the little ones into the smithy loft and play with them for a while.”
Ezren stood. “Perhaps a story,” he said. “I have a few I can tell.”
Josiah rose, and swung the smallest girl off the bench and onto his shoulders. “Let’s go listen to a story.”
Oris stood. “Lady Bethral, you’ll need some help.”
In moments the room cleared. Red sat at the table and scowled, looking over the remains of the meal.
Apparently the Chosen had gotten stuck with the dishes.
Not in this lifetime. Red finished her kavage, then stood. She’d seen a whetstone in the smithy, and her blade needed an edge. Time enough for that while Bethral dealt with the horse.
She’d barely had the stone going before Bethral emerged from the barn and headed toward her.
“Is it done, then?”
Bethral cleared her throat. “No.” She folded her arms across her chest, and shifted her weight.
“I’ve looked over the lass, and I think that I may be able to…”
Red snorted. “Bethral…”
Bethral dropped her arms. “Please, come take a look.”
Red grimaced. “We’ve no time for…”
Bethral turned and started for the barn. Red followed, biting back the rest of her words. Oris was just inside the barn door. He and Bethral led the way to the back, where Larrisa stood, lantern in hand. In the faint circle of light Red could make out a horse tied against the far wall.
It was a huge horse. Brown and dirty, with an unkempt, shaggy coat. Head held low, hollows in the flanks, some sort of huge sore on the withers. Still, it stood taller than any Red had seen, with hooves so big she’d not dare to try to lift one. Size for size, the beast matched Bethral, what with her standing bigger than most men.
Bethral’s quiet voice came from behind. “Larrisa’s willing to let me try to get her to eat.”
Red sighed. Never mind that they’d been attacked, and had no gear. Never mind that raiders were off in the woods. Never mind that there was a prophecy to fulfill, and their dead stuffed into trees. No, never mind all that. Bethral would sooner slit her own throat than walk away from a suffering horse.
Red smiled wryly. She’d known that within an hour of meeting her sword-sister. “What’s an hour more or less?”
Bethral’s eyes lit up. As she’d known they would.
Oris spoke up. “Larrisa says there’s gear here we can go through, see if we can use anything.”
Red nodded. An edge to her blade wouldn’t hurt. “Go ahead and try. You might start by lancing that sore. It looks like it’s gone sour.”
Bethral came up next to her. “What sore?”
At which point, the sore moved and stretched and fixed a watery yellow eye on Red. It was a cat, the ugliest cat she’d ever seen—fur sticking out, black and brown and yellow and a mottled kind of green. A tail so bedraggled as to be an embarrassment. The creature stood on the withers of the horse as if it owned the beast, the barn, and all the lands around.
Red crossed her arms over her chest and snorted. Horses, goats, cats…Sweet Twelve, how about a few dogs and ponies to go along with them, eh?
Larrisa came forward, crooning to the mare. “My man hand-raised her from a foal. He was going to keep her to breed and as an example of all the tricks he could teach to a prospective buyer. She was his pride and…” Her rough hand continued to stroke the beast, but her mind’s eye was far and away in better and distant times. Red shifted from one foot to the other and coughed as a courtesy.
Larrisa sighed. “She hasn’t eaten since, and I can barely get her to drink.” She wiped at her eyes, and looked over her shoulder at Bethral. “She’s wasting, and I hate to see her suffer. I’m willing to let you try, but if you can’t…”
Bethral nodded.
Red shook her head, left the barn, and went back to the smithy.
TWENTY-SIX
THE blade of her looted sword wouldn’t hold an edge. Red pumped the foot pedal, and swore under her breath as she set the blade back to the stone. She could hear the voices of the children, combined with those of Josiah and Ezren, overhead. Best not teach the little darlings any new words this day.
Oris came out of the barn, carrying two of the looted swords. “Piss made, if you ask me,” he grumbled as he walked up. “Want some help?”
Red nodded, and released the stone to him. “Anything else in the way of supplies?”
Oris shrugged. “A few packs, some cloaks at least. We’ll need them for the trek.” He raised an eyebrow at her. “I was thinking maybe Alad and I could—”
“We don’t separate,” Red replied. “Too many dangers that way.”
“Too many dangers any way,” Oris said, but he accepted her decision as he settled on the stool.
“What do you think of this?” Red pulled the shard from her belt. “Any chance it could be worked?”
Oris gave it a dubious look. “It’s worthless rust, Chosen.”
Red grunted. “Sharp enough when it needed to be.” She put it back under her belt. “How’s Bethral faring?” Red looked over at the barn.
“Talking to the horse, whispering in its ear.” Oris pumped the wheel.
“Whispering?” Red headed for the barn. That had better not mean what she thought it meant.
Bethral met her at the door, a slight smile on her face. Red stopped, suspicious. “Well? What luck?”
Bethral’s smile grew wider, and she stepped back into the barn. Red followed, and peered into the shadows.
The horse was eating out of a bucket and chewing like it hadn’t a care in the world. The cat twined between its legs, back and forth, its sorry excuse of a tail straight up in the air.
The horse glanced at Red, turning its huge head slowly. Bethral must have spent the last hour cleaning and grooming. The mare’s coat was a beauty, a deep reddish-brown with the dirt removed. Even with the hollow spots and the slight tremble in the knees, she held the promise of a fine mount.
Beast was hanging over his gate, snorting and demanding attention.
Red turned back to Bethral and saw her looking at the horse with pride. Red groaned, and rubbed her hand over her face.
Alad and Larrisa were talking in the tack room. The only other sounds were the chewing of the horse and something that sounded suspiciously like a purr coming from the cat.
Red glared at Bethral. “What did you do?”
Bethral never took her eyes off the horse.
“Bethral.” Red waited until she had her attention. “What did you do?”
Bethral looked down and shrugged. “I cleaned her, brushed her.” She glanced at the ground.
“Talked to her.”
Red crossed her arms over her chest. “And?”
Bethral sighed. “I promised her vengeance.”
Red groaned.
Bethral continued hastily. “I explained my obligations…”
“Of course,” Red said.
“…and my duties to you, and they understand…”
“‘They’ being the horse and the cat?” Red asked.
“…understand that those come before all else, but should a chance arise…”
Red had a sudden vision of the horse wildly attacking some miscreant in a market square, with no warning or provocation.
“…and we prayed to bind our pledge…”
“‘Our’ being you, the horse, and the cat?” Red asked scathingly.
“…pledge and now all’s well. She’ll need only a day or two of feeding before she’s ready to travel.” Bethral’s voice was matter-of-fact.
“‘A day or two?’” Red snarled. “Are you forgetting our—”
Ezren’s head popped in. “Are you finished yet?”
“No,” Red snapped, but it was too late. Ezren had seen the horse.
“Is that the horse?” He stepped within the door. “Lady Bethral, you are amazing.”
Red made a rude noise. “If that’s what you call it. She’s always picking up strays and lost causes.”
Ezra stiffened. “I will take my leave, Chosen. The children will be glad of this news.”
Bethral’s face was stony as the storyteller departed.
“Muck!” Red grimaced. “Bethral, I—”
Bethral stepped over to the horse. “I’d best water her.” With a tug, she urged the horse toward the yard. The cat padded behind, a disdainful look on its face.
Red snarled at it.
Larrisa and Alad came out of the tack room. Alad was dragging two heavy chests. Larrisa’s face was lit from within by happiness, her arms full of gear. “Where’s Bessie?”
“Bessie?” Red choked. “The horse’s name is Bessie?” She looked out into the yard.
Bethral was taking the horse into the sun, one slow, careful step at a time. The horse’s head was up, and Red could hear the excited children laughing from the smithy. Josiah swung the smallest girl up in his arms so that she could pet the horse.
The cat was back up on the horse’s rump, looking self-satisfied. The sunlight on its mottled fur did nothing to improve its appearance.
“His pride and joy.” Larrisa smiled, and Red could see the beauty in her tired face. “Your Bethral is special, that she is.”
“She’s something,” Red muttered.
“Alad said she’s in need of armor.” Larrisa pushed past Red.
Red gestured for Alad to precede her with one of the boxes. She picked up the other. They all stepped out into the sunlight. Red glanced at the fields around them, but they were clear. Oris was still at the wheel, keeping half an eye on their surroundings.
The children were laughing and petting the horse, the smallest one clinging to Josiah, reaching out her hand to pet its soft nose. The horse nuzzled them all, between drinks from the trough.
Alad dropped his box at Bethral’s feet. She looked at him, puzzled.
Larrisa opened the box. “Let’s see if this fits you.”
EZREN heaved a sigh as he leaned against the post. Oris looked over, concerned. “Something wrong, Storyteller?”
“No, no.” Ezren crossed his arms over his chest. “I was just thinking how beautiful she is.”
“That’s true enough.” Oris put the blade to the stone and pumped the treadle. Sparks flew as he sharpened the blade. “Lovely carriage. And the deepest roan I’ve seen in a long time.”
Ezren gave him a withering glance. “I meant Lady Bethral.”
“Ah.” Oris returned to his work, deciding then and there that he’d shut his mouth. The Storyteller was a complicated man, and it wouldn’t do to offend. He’d been thinking there was something wrong since they’d left the bog, but he hadn’t pressed the man.
Now, lovesick might be one explanation. Either that, or the man was bound up inside. A good dose of butternut oil would take care of the second problem.
Nothing was gonna help the first.
Oris lifted his eye from the stone for a moment, looking at the blonde warrior. A good one in a fight, that was sure, but to lose his heart to such a one? No thanks. Hells, he had to admire Lord Josiah for bedding the Chosen. The very idea made his manhood shrivel up. Now, a nice plump wife with a cheery smile, that was more to his taste.
His gaze went down to the blade against the stone, and Oris frowned at it. Better than nothing, but he could wish for his own steel back in his hand.
“What is that?” Ezren straightened.
Oris looked up. They’d opened that wooden box, and Larrisa was pulling out flannel bundles.
The cloth in Alad’s hands unfolded to reveal a piece of a suit of armor—plate, by the look of it.
Oris stood, admiring its silver curve and its soft sheen. Even from this distance, he could see the quality. “That’s a suit of plate, I do believe.”
Now everyone was reaching down, pulling out pieces and unwrapping them. Oris walked closer for a good look, the storyteller right behind him. “Gods, is that horse barding, too?” Oris asked as he peered over Alad’s shoulder.
“Aye.” Larrisa looked at him, her worn face softened into a smile. “’Twas my man’s.”
Bethral frowned. “Larrisa, I can’t take this. I did not…”
“No.” Larrisa smiled. “He’d not have minded.” She looked at the horse. “They were a grand sight, he and the lass, all decked out in it. A grand sight.”
Like kittens at cream, they dug it out of the trunks. Oris studied the pieces as they were held up.
“Not true plate. Looks like a mix of plate and chain.”
Larrisa nodded, as she held a piece up to Bethral’s chest. “Jeran wanted something he could move in.” She looked at Bethral. “You’ve the size to wear it.”
Lady Bethral protested, but in a moment, she had more handmaidens around her than a virgin at a Goddess Wedding. Oris joined in, with everyone talking and laughing and trying to get the straps and buckles adjusted for fit. The padding underneath went on, a bit snug, and from there Bethral was slowly encased in metal, gleaming in the soft sun. When they had almost finished with her, they started putting the barding on the horse, their eagerness spilling over onto the beast.