Lines of Fire (The Guild House - Defenders Hall) (14 page)

“I could stay here until you finish this assignment.”

“I can’t let you do that. Is there anything that triggers the darkness to spread?”

“Emotions.”

“Then try to remain calm.”

She nodded. “I’ll try. I don’t want to become like them.” Tears flowed over her cheeks.

Though Alric was tempted to take her into his arms he feared her reaction would cause a rapid spread of the spots. He went to the fire and filled a mug with kafa. He sweetened her cup with honey and added a small amount of salopa. If she slept unless she had a nightmare, the spread of the taint should halt.

* * *

At dawn the members of the party stirred. Before long they’d eaten the morning meal, loaded the pack beasts and prepared to leave.

Alric helped Kalia into the saddle and took his place at the head of the group. “I’ll ride ahead to see how far the village is. The map isn’t very accurate.” Being alone might give him an idea to chew over about this new development.

Petan and the Swordmaster’s lines held no glint of scarlet. Kalia’s sported only a few dark spots. How many days, months or years would be needed for the process to be complete?

Since Petan was much younger than the leader of the Defenders, Alric tried to remember when he’d first noticed the change in Petan’s lines. He couldn’t recall a time when his enemy’s lines had been scarlet rather than darker.

That meant nothing. He hadn’t known Petan since childhood and even during the training days there’d been little contact. Petan had been two classes ahead. Alric forced his thoughts away from the other man.

What could he do? He was heart bound to Kalia. The moment their gazes had meshed he had known. They had a year before she must make a choice. The thought she might walk away caused a lump to cluster in his gut. If she broke the bond he would flee and join the desert riders.

Heart bound. Why did those words bring a flash of hope for Kalia? Her mother was tied by love but the Swordmaster wasn’t. Alric searched the information Kalia had told him about the lines. When the older woman returned from her visits to her bondmate her lines were drained of vitality. Did he take something from her he needed to survive?

A frown tightened his brow. Petan had the same lines. How did he feed his needs? Alric wondered if Kalia knew.

What would happen of both people were heart bound? Had Kalia made a choice she feared voicing? Her father’s threats against her family might force her obedience. Alric wondered if he could persuade her to admit her love for him.

Not yet. She didn’t trust him. When they were alone they could talk. He would observe her lines. If he must he would give her essence from his lines. He halted the bihorn and waited for the others. “The large village is just ahead on this road. If we’re lucky we’ll find the peddler.”

“Are you sure?” one of the Artisans asked.

“Yes.”

“Then we ride,” the Senior Judge said.

As a unit they galloped down the road. When they reached the first house shouts spurred Alric ahead of the others. He reached the village commons and encountered a milling mob.

“What’s happening?” he asked.

Several men stood beside saddled bihorns. “Thieves,” one yelled.

“Justicars are on the way,” Alric said.

Moments later the rest of the party arrived. Men and women shouted.

“Silence,” the Senior Judge shouted.

“The peddlers cheated,” a woman cried. “Took my honey and traded for spices with a false bottom in the boxes.”

“Jewelry went missing from my shop,” a man said.

“When did they leave?” the Judge asked.

“Camped outside town last night. Finished trading at sundown. Was late when they left the tavern.” The older man took a deep breath. “I’m one of the village elders.”

Alric gestured to Kalia. “Come, we must force them to return.”

The Junior Judge nodded. “I’ll ride with you.”

Alric turned his bihorn toward the road. When he spotted three wagons in the distance he prodded Storm Cloud into a gallop. He reached the first wagon and turned his steed to halt the wagon.

“By order of the Justicar you are to return to the village for judgment.”

“Why should we?” a sharp-face driver asked.

“If you fail to obey, the Defender will kill your animals,” the Junior Judge said.

Kalia rode to Alric’s side. “Will you?”

“If forced but don’t worry. I doubt they will try to force me to act.”

The driver of the rear-most wagon complied with the order as did the second one. The sharp-face man scowled. “Move and I will turn. Cart beasts are too slow to get away. We have done nothing wrong.”

“False,” the Junior Judge said.

Alric edged Storm Cloud to the side of the road. Kalia rode to the Junior Judge’s side and led the caravan back to the village.

By the time they reached the commons many of the villagers had gathered on the grass of the benches surrounding the dueling circle. The Senior Judge gestured to Alric. “Food is available in the tavern. Once you’ve eaten we’ll start the investigation.”

Alric nodded. He followed Kalia and the Junior Judge into the log building. He waved away a large nooning platter of meat, cheese, bread and a variety of salads.

“Soup and citren will be enough,” he said.

Kalia frowned. “Why aren’t you eating more? We broke our fast at sunrise.”

“A hearty meal makes a fighter sluggish.”

“What about your recent injuries. Will they impede you?”

The concern in her voice heartened him. He began to believe there was hope the bonding would last.

“Depends on my opponent. Could be you. If so I’ll quickly disarm you.”

Her eyes widened. “You would fight me?”

“Happens when there’s no one else.”

“Then I’m in luck. One of the drivers is a former Defender. I thought I recognized him when I traveled with the peddler. Before Robec and Petan entered training classes he taught them.”

“Then he’s sure to have some skill with sword and knife. Didn’t he teach you?”

“The Swordmaster’s daughter received no special training. Lasara’s abilities have confounded him.” She leaned closer. “Can you win?”

“I believe so.” He felt positive but bragging often led to mistakes. “Good thing Petan didn’t cut my sword arm.”

“Just be careful.”

“Always.” Again, the concern in her voice encouraged him to hope. He finished the soup and drank the citren. Then he waited for his companions to complete their meal. They left the tavern and joined the Senior Judge.

The man rose from a bench. “The investigation of the charges against Peddler Hosar will begin. May truth and justice prevail. First I will hear the complaints.”

One of the trainees read the list of verified complaints gathered during the journey. Then he called on the villagers and heard from them. “Truth,” he said to each complaint.

One of the Artisans rose. “This is the third time Peddler Hosar has been accused of the same crimes. We know he’s working with one or more members of our Guild. The Artisans want the name or names of these traitors.”

The Senior Judge nodded. “Peddler, what do you say about the charges? Are you willing to provide the information?”

“Yes.”

“False,” the Junior Judge said.

The Senior Judge approached. “Give me the name of your Artisan supplier.”

“Can’t give a name.”

“Truth.”

“Can’t or won’t?” the Artisan asked.

The peddler shrugged. “Never saw him. Leaves notes for me with instructions to burn them.”

The Junior Judge nodded. “Truth.”

“Describe the notes,” the older Artisan said.

“Say where the goods will be left.”

“How do you pay?”

“Leave coins beneath a rock. Other goods like honey, salt, gems and metals are put in a box.”

Each of his statements was accompanied by “truth” from the Judges.

The Senior Judge faced the peddler. “Twice you have been warned about selling shoddy goods and using false weights. You know the penalty for a third offense.”

The older Artisan turned to the Judge. “Since our information hasn’t been provided I call for a duel.”

“Agreed.” His companion joined him. “If he loses he will help by setting a trap for the traitor.”

“If I win, I will go free.”

“That is in accordance to the rules of Investia,” the Senior Judge said.

The peddler grinned. “Worth a try. Valdon, present yourself.”

The tall, lean, broad-shouldered man stepped forward. He wore a sword and knife. He moved with the ease of a trained Defender. Though he was older than Alric, he remained in his prime. Alric had no memory of seeing the man since his arrival at the Hall. Kalia’s quick intake of breath brought a realization. This was the man who had trained Petan and Robec.

A sly smile crossed Valdon’s face. “I’ll fight her.”

“You don’t have the choice.” The Senior Judge turned to the Artisans. “Your champion.”

“Alric.”

Alric removed his shirt, vest and chain. He folded them and left them with the trainees. He faced his opponent.

Valdon kept his shirt on. He unsheathed his weapons.

Kalia moved to Alric’s side. “He won’t fight fair. Years ago, he cut Robec and the wound festered. Be careful.”

“I will.”

Valdon laughed. “So the Swordmaster’s daughter remembers me. Is this man your bondmate? I thought Petan wanted you. How happy my favorite student will be when he learns I killed the man who took what was his. I’ll be a Defender again as a reward.”

“Petan fought me and lost,” Alric said.

“He struck from behind like a coward and was banished,” Kalia added.

Valdon laughed. “Perhaps when I finish this duel and win I’ll find him and we can form a band. Be better than driving a peddler’s wagon.”

“Why seek Petan?” Alric asked. “Join one of the rebel groups.”

“They’re fools. Strong leaders are needed. Petan is that. There are more of my kind than you realize. The bonding rules send many a good man away in disgrace.” He strode to the circle in the center of the commons.

Alric followed. “It’s time.”

“Luck,” Kalia called.

Alric joined his opponent in the circle where every year the youths of the area were tested. The Senior Judge stepped between them.

“The fight will continue until one of you is disarmed. No death duel. Fight for justice.” The older man stepped from the circle.

Alric raised his sword and met Valdon’s first stroke.

* * *

Kalia hoped Alric had taken her warning seriously. She moved to the edge of the circle where Alric faced Valdon. The clang of metal on metal reached her.

Valdon’s sword moved like a striking snake. Kalia nearly missed seeing his knife cut a slash along Alric’s chest. Her hand flew to her mouth. Shouts from the peddler and his companions mixed with groans from the other spectators. Kalia tensed. She turned and saw Hosar’s smirk.

The cut energized Alric. His sword flashed so fast the blade blurred. The singing sound, the flashing movements held Kalia spellbound. Before long Valdon’s shirt hung in tatters. Small cuts dotted his chest and arms.

After the initial wound Alric received no more. Kalia focused on the lines of fire on the men’s skin. She saw the smooth flow of Alric’s. Valdon’s patterns moved erratically. Alric sent Valdon’s blade flying from the circle. He caught the knife with the tip of his sword and it fell to the ground.

"Yield,” Alric shouted.

“Yielded.” Valdon held both hands in the air.

The Artisans bound his hands and those of Hosar. The peddler scowled. The Justicar trainees led the men from the commons.

The Senior and Junior Judges spoke to the drivers of the wagons. Each man or woman was awarded one of the cart beasts and a few coins as their wages. They were allowed to gather their belongings. The Artisans began an inventory of the contents of the wagons. All articles of value were stored in sacks.

Though fascinated by the process Kalia left the commons to find Alric. He sat at a table in the tavern. He reached for his shirt. She shook her head. “I need to check your wound.”

“Only a shallow cut. Bleeding stopped early during the bout.”

“Didn’t you listen when I told you about Robec’s wound? I’m speaking as your bondmate. I want to clean the cut.”

Alric grinned. “Get the aid kit.”

When she returned he sat with his back pressed against the edge of the table. She opened the kit and poured alk on a piece of linen. She ran the swatch over the wound and felt pleased when no bleeding began. She saw no redness of swelling around the area but the injury was too fresh to show any signs of a problem.

“Happy?” Alric asked.

“For now.” She wished she’d been able to clean the area before the lesion closed. “Keep an eye on the area for several days.” She touched the end of the wound with a finger and saw the lines coalesce in the area.