King Callie: Callie's Saga, Book One (23 page)

Kells swallowed, but kept an eye on Marrol. “I saved our country from war,” he said. “He threatened children with steel, Marrol. That’s not the path of an honorable man.”

“You and I know that,” Marrol insisted. “Because we
are
honorable men. We are good men, Kells. We know what’s best for our country. And because of that, I want to give you mercy,” he said, holding out a hand. “Join me. And you’ll live to care for your children.” Marrol savored the other thought that went with it; sharing a bed with Ostre, while Kells cared for the children like a fool.

“Good men don’t kill their own,” Kells shot back.

“And what does that make you?” Marrol replied. And as he saw the stunned look on Kells’ face, he knew for certain.
The killing blow,
he thought. Kells did not speak for a long time; he stared at the floor. Marrol waited for his response.

“I am not a good man,” Kells finally said. “But I can still do good.”

With that, Marrol smiled. “Then do good with me, Kells,” he said. “You know the face of a losing battle. Give up these thoughts of betrayal, and help me forge a new Barra.”

“If you wish to do good, Marrol, bring back the axe,” Kells said. “Barra needs it.”

“Barra needs no axe,” Marrol said. His face clouded with the beginnings of anger. “Barra needs
me
. Men are the caretakers of the kingdom, not weapons. They are our tools of war, Kells - without the hand to swing it, an axe is worthless.”

“The Axe has not steered us wrong, Marrol,” Kells sighed, as he turned back to the steps, and walked away from his wounded King. “Many think it a blessing. Only you ever thought it a curse.”

“Where are you going?” Marrol demanded, as he watched Kells ascend the stairs.

“To find the prisoners,” Kells said. “I imagine I won’t… Your Majesty.”

Marrol watched as Kells left, and - although he knew he’d won the battle of wits, and saved his own life - Marrol wondered what he’d lost to do so.

CHAPTER FORTY-FOUR

Kells came away from the dungeon with a heaviness in his heart.

I can still do good
, he thought. But he gritted his teeth, and regretted the cost at which it would come. If he moved against Marrol, without evidence, he’d risk his own life - and the reputation of those around him. The blame fell too easily at his own feet. And if he didn’t, he risked more.

But later, as he addressed the first guards he could find, and sent them to search the castle, Kells could not find an easy answer - or rather, any answer. As wrong as Marrol was, until an alternative was found, he had to be tolerated. He had to be listened to. Kells had resisted his influence before, but now, it would be a mixture of stubborn defiance and well-chosen battles. Marrol knew the truth - he knew whose blade pierced Valric’s gut. The first course of action was to do exactly what Marrol wanted - search for the escaped prisoners, but fail to find them.

Kells coordinated hunting hounds, men on horseback, and so on - but pointed them towards the likely places, knowing that Royth would have never been so obvious. Kells was surprised, of course, to see Caliandra on horseback; more for her suspect timing than anything. She had a small, rolled-up carpet strapped to the horse’s side, with a tell-tale bulge that gave him instant alarm.

“Get down from there, Lady Caliandra,” Kells said; his tone was surly, and with a hidden sword in her carpet, he knew damn well what she wanted. “You go no further.”

“I’m going out for a ride, Kells,” she said, annoyed. “Why are you trying to stop me?”

“The prisoners have escaped,” Kells replied. “Until they’re found, you cannot leave the premises.” His eyes darted over to the carpet. “I’m not going to find a blade inside that, am I?”

“I’m taking it to my mother’s estate,” she said, as she blanched. “It’s a personal errand.” Kells motioned to two guards nearby, who came over with spears. He watched Caliandra’s gaze dart over towards them, then back at Kells, nervous.

“Oh, I doubt that very much,” Kells said, as he looked her straight in the eyes. Caliandra leaned down, towards him, and whispered.

“I saved your life, Kells,” Caliandra said, soft and careful. Her vision was fixed on the guards. “Call them off. You owe me this.”

“I’m saving yours,” Kells replied, more stern than before. “Get down from your horse, Caliandra.
Now
.”

Caliandra fumed; her quiet words turned hostile. He’d rarely seen her so angry, but not once had he seen her on the edge of rage. “He’s out there, and you let him live,” she said. “Let me go, for my brother’s sake.”

“Your brother wouldn’t want this,” Kells said. “He died knowing he’d saved mens’ lives. He wouldn’t want you throwing yours away.” The guards raised their spears. “Don’t fight me, Caliandra,” Kells said, as Caliandra considered her options. Other guards were coming back, and would surround her soon - but he knew they would hesitate. It was only days before that she was their Princess, after all. The ones in front of her stood firm, and held their ground; he only wondered if they would be willing to stop her.

CHAPTER FORTY-FIVE

Caliandra charged past Kells, towards the forest; she hoped to avoid the group of soldiers that blocked her way, but instead, found herself stopped by another set on horseback. Caliandra pulled on her horse’s reins, and rapidly slowed to a stop - dirt and grass kicked up from the ground, and brushed her leg. She recognized one of the riders, and her heart jumped. The man that Royth said she’d fall in love with; the soldier, Darryn, with his ice-blue eyes, the scar that framed his cheek, the spear and horse that blocked his way. “Good afternoon, Lady,” Darryn said, with the hint of a smile. “And where are you going?”

“Hunting,” she said, with no tremor in her voice - only pure conviction.

“Without a bow, or spear?” he asked. “Odd choice.”

“With a carpet,” she said. It set the other riders to laughter, but she saw the guards coming from behind her, with their spears; she wouldn’t have much chance to escape.

“Then I’m afraid you’ll have to turn back to the castle,” Darryn said. “If you had a bow and could shoot it, maybe you’d be of some use. A carpet’s another matter entirely.”

Caliandra did not smile; in fact, she dismounted, and moved straight to the carpet - and pulled at the handle of the sword contained therein. She produced an iron long sword, which only moved the riders to greater laughter; Darryn, however, did not laugh. She didn’t care if Kells saw it as he approached; she only cared that she passed the men.

“With that in hand, she’s welcome to try,” the round man next to him chortled. But Darryn had dismounted, and began to approach her with caution.

“Lady,” Darryn said, “I’ll ask you to put that back.” She didn’t; with hesitation, she turned the blade towards him.

“Let me through,” she said. “I want Royth dead.”

“That presents a problem,” Darryn said. “We’ve orders to take him and the Sparrow alive, and we can’t risk you coming to harm.”

“Of course,” Caliandra sneered. “Because a noblewoman’s death is such a tragedy.” It was then that she saw a small tinge of sadness in his face, prompted by her flippant remark - as if he might have agreed it was so.
Why should he care what happens to me?
She wondered.

“When it comes so soon after the loss of her brother and father,” Darryn said, “it’d be a catastrophe.”

Unnerved, Caliandra strengthened her grip on the sword’s handle, to compensate. To give herself some solid purpose. “Out of the way, Darryn,” she said. “I want my revenge.”

“You’ll not get it,” he replied. “But if you want a fight, I’m glad to give you one.” She saw him draw his sword, and her heart raced in horror. She only wanted to intimidate him; she never imagined to fight him. But with the other guards closing in behind her, she had no choice - if she wanted to go forward, it was through him.

“Come,” he said. “Let’s see if you’ve got the iron in you.” Caliandra hesitated, but pointed her sword towards him.

“Move aside,” she said. Her hands trembled a little, but she held the sword firm. “I don’t want to fight you.”

“Beat me, and I’ll let you pass,” Darryn replied. “Then you can have your revenge, if you can catch them.”

Her sword stood still in the air, as she thought; a second later, she knew what she needed to do. She swung, and hated herself for it. He blocked, and for that, she was grateful; yet she did not forgive him. She swung again; her arms dragged heavy iron through the air, and it met with Darryn’s strong resistance. Caliandra continued to swing, and each time Darryn blocked, dodged, or parried it; but he never went on the attack. Not once. Her shoulders grew weary after minutes of swinging the heavy blade around, and she found herself frustrated - and short of breath - as they danced deadly in the grass.

His fellow soldiers were silent at first, but later cheered; were she not already red in the face, she’d have more been thoroughly embarrassed.

“Why don’t you fight?” Caliandra grunted in frustration, as he blocked another blow – close enough that her voice could be heard, quiet enough that none around could hear.

“To tire you,” Darryn said. “And because we must talk.” The statement caught her off guard; what could we possibly have to talk about? His sword pushed against her own, and she stumbled backwards.

“What shall we talk about?” she asked. She strained to lift her sword, and attack; he dodged, and got close to her – enough to block her from raising her iron against him. And yet, she felt her heart race, with him so close.

“Meet me tonight at Orrin’s tree, at the tenth hour,” he said. “Your family’s in danger. And I know who took the axe.”

“What?” Caliandra reacted, stunned. She lowered her sword. “Who? Tell me.”

“Now hit me,” Darryn said. “Pretend I’ve said something uncouth.”

“I-” She was frustrated, and flustered, but confused. “Why?”

“Fine,” he grimaced. “I want to rip your dress off and rut like pigs in mud - and I know you’d like it.”

With her free hand, she slapped him as hard as she was able, across the cheek. The soldiers that watched the fight laughed and hollered. “Thanks,” he said. “Remember,
tonight
.”

“Pig,” she shouted, flustered as he walked back to his men. She grabbed the sword, and glared at him as she mounted her horse. He stared back, undaunted – with a cavalier smirk - as she rode back inside the castle.

Kells was there, waiting for her arrival; he noticed her flushed condition. “That guard did you a favor, as far as I’m concerned,” he said.

She ignored him, and took her horse to the stables
–
where she angrily discarded Valric’s sword, tossing it into a pile of hay. She was frustrated, and embarrassed, and as he approached, she snapped at him. “You wanted me to be humiliated further?” Caliandra asked, as she handed her horse’s reins to a stable boy.

“I wanted you to be safe,” Kells said, angry. “And your exhibition cost us the chance to re-capture him.”

“You had dozens of men in the woods,” Caliandra replied, as she turned to face him. She brushed a loose hair out of her face, and crossed her arms. “I distracted none who weren’t already useless.”

“Lady Caliandra,” Kells said, firmly, as he glanced at the sword, “I know the deaths in your family have brought you great pain -”

“What do
you
know about
pain
?” she shouted. Caliandra clenched her fist; it trembled with her anger. “Royth sent my brother to die. And none of you want justice for him?”

“That’s not true,” Kells replied, hesitant. “Royth misled your brother. He didn’t kill him.”

“Royth
mislead
him? You fought at my brother’s side. He would never have done something so foolish if Royth hadn’t tricked him into it. He
killed
my brother.”

“Your brother died because he was an arrogant fool,” Kells shot back, glowering. Caliandra felt a tinge of fear as he spoke. “He fought to save our lives. But if he had let me talk with the Erimeni first instead of rushing in, and trying to play hero, he would not have needed to fight. Royth sent us to the Freelands, but your brother died by his own doings. Not Royth’s.” He stormed towards Caliandra. “And if you
had
found Royth, what makes you think could have driven a dagger in his gut?” Kells said, his tone more assertive, and angrier than before. Caliandra backed up, and felt alarm fill her body; she was wholly caught off-guard by his aggression.

“I -” she started, but he cut her off. And she saw a side of Kells she never expected to.

“I know what kind of person it takes to do that. It’s not you. It could never
be
you. It’s not your father’s games of chess,” Kells said, his tone harsh and jagged, the gaze in his eyes full of rage; his words filled the stable with thunderous sound. “Those women you were with, the Sparrows…did you think they’d let you live, after you’d done their work for them? Did you really think you could beat a trained soldier in a duel with a sword, when you’ve never wielded one?” Caliandra felt flush with indignation.
Who does he think he is, addressing me in this way?