Mordraud, Book One (27 page)

“
Deanna’s ready,” one of the staff finally said. The mistress of the house had taken her place in the carriage following the convoy, and Mordraud got in with her, drawing the curtains a little. The carts set off along the fief’s streets, then took the paved road heading east.

“
What’s the countryside like around the house? Is it nice?” he inquired, to break the silence that had immediately descended on the carriage. Deanna seemed even more annoyed than he was. He’d tried asking her why, but he hadn’t managed to find out anything useful. He could only imagine the reason was Adraman, although they seldom spoke about her husband, unless it was in short sentences hissed through clenched teeth.

“
Pretty.”

“
Nothing else?! What’s there to do there? A river, a lake, a nice wood, some paths for walks...?”

“
I wouldn’t know – I never leave the house. At the most I read in the garden.”

Deanna was more cagey than usual. Mordraud sighed, concentrating on the landscape framed by the curtains. It promised to be a long tense trip.

“There’s a path for picking mushrooms,” she blurted out suddenly, after an endless silence. “I’ve walked it with the cook occasionally, to get a breath of fresh air.”

“
Mushrooms?!” exclaimed Mordraud, his mouth instinctively turning down in a grimace. He’d finished with them after Gwern’s experience. “I loathe mushrooms!”

Deanna gave up on this miserable attempt at conversation too. The hours passed like boulders dragged through the mud.

***

It was the third night they
’d slept out in the open. It felt like a month had passed.

The guards made the usual fire, arranging the carts in a semi-circle around the hearth, and the servants bedded down where they could among the crates and kegs. Mordraud dug out some food and filled a small pan to make Deanna something hot. The air was crisp but pleasant.
‘I’ll sleep outside the carts tonight – they all snore in there,’ he thought while fumbling with a cloth to hook the pan onto its supports over the fire. ‘I already find it hard to sleep... The stars might help me nod off.’

Deanna seemed to read his mind.
“Why don’t you sleep in my carriage tonight? There’s plenty of space for two... The other ones look more uncomfortable.”

Mordraud feared that request more than death itself. If he were shut up in there with her, he was sure he wouldn
’t get a wink of sleep. On the other hand, he couldn’t say no. He couldn’t – it was his job.

He repeated this to himself a couple of times, to be properly convinced.

“Well... okay, but... I wouldn’t want to snore...”

“
Really?! Adraman sounds like a hunting horn when he sleeps,” she replied, grinning. That was news – a smile on her face associated with her husband’s name was as rare as snow in summer.

In the end, Mordraud gave in. And after drink
ing a mug of herbal tea together, they prepared the seats for sleeping. The cushions were soft, the blanket warm and the atmosphere peaceful. But Deanna only had to start removing her long leather boots to make him break out in a cold sweat
“
Everything okay? Aren’t you comfortable?”

“
Oh, no no... Very comfortable...”

He
’d never slept near a woman, with the exception of his mother. Without an ounce of sleepiness, Mordraud found himself subconsciously listening to Deanna’s breathing. She would move now and then, trying to find a more comfortable position, and he’d suddenly go stiff. But luckily she never noticed. When Deanna finally drifted off, and her breathing grew regular, Mordraud was wide awake.

‘
And now what do I do?’ he wondered, as he nodded his head from side to side, following the rhythm of Deanna’s breathing.

One, two. Three, four.

‘I should have stayed outside, I’m too tense... Now I won’t close my eyes an instant and I’ll be worn-out tomorrow.’

Five, six.

Seven, eight.

‘
What a calm night. Not a hint of a breeze. The sky must be magnificent outside. Perhaps if I’m quiet... I could creep out of here...’

Nine.

Ten.

Deanna let the cover glide off her. She was naked down to the hips, lit by a streak of moonlight filtering through the cracks in the curtains. Skin like marble. She was staring at him. Her gaze conveyed a single thought.

“You’re the only one I desire. Come here... Hold me tight...”

Mordraud
observed his arms. Long and muscly – those of a real man. He was naked from head to toe, but felt no embarrassment. The carriage seemed vast, and the two of them were sprawled out in the middle, on a large red bed. The sheets moved as if the mattress were filled with snakes.

“
I want you... Come here, Mordraud...”

He didn
’t wait for her to invite him again. He rose on his knees above her, and slowly slipped off her skirt. Deanna writhed, wrapped in silk. Her raven hair spread out on the blood-coloured bed. He’d never seen anything more beautiful.

“
Kiss me...”

The yell shot through his skull like a red-hot poker. Mordraud found himself bent over, a quarter inch from Deanna
’s sleeping face. He pulled back, panting in shock.

He was dreaming. He
’d dropped off and hadn’t realised. Another shout brought him squarely back to reality. Deanna woke with a start, and looked around without understanding what was happening.

They were under attack.

“What’s wrong? Where are we?!”

“
Shh! Stay down and don’t move!”

Mordraud pushed the curtain slightly to the side, to see the camp. Six, maybe eight men. They were shabby, and armed as best they could with farming tools. Bandits, most likely. The four escort soldiers were battling, with help from the cart-drivers.

“Mordraud, I’m frightened...”

“
Don’t worry! Just a couple of thieves. Our men are fending them off well... Try to stay calm.”

He attempted a convincing voice, but even he didn
’t believe his own words. He couldn’t see who was faring best.

Something blacked out the carriage
’s small window. Mordraud heard Deanna scream behind him. “There’s more of them!” she shouted, in the hope that the soldiers would hear her. The wooden door flew open and Deanna was dragged out by a bearded man with a face pitted by infection. Mordraud hurled himself after her and grabbed her ankle, struggling pointlessly for a brief instant.

“
Let me go! HELP ME!”

The other door of the carriage was pulle
d off and Mordraud felt his pelvis seized by two large hard hands. In a flash he was outside with his legs dangling in the air. Deanna was screaming in desperation over the other side. The whole camp had become a battlefield.

“
DEANNA! DEANNA!” he bellowed, thrashing around like a person possessed.

“
Keep still you, you repulsive little
rat
!”

Rat.

It was The Stranger’s voice. The Stranger’s breath, his stench of wine and his rough skin. Mordraud’s left arm began trembling uncontrollably.

“
MORDRAUD!”

The sound of clothes being torn, as if the air itself had been ripped.

Mordraud yanked his head back and smashed it against the bandit’s jaw. A whiff of greasy hair slapped him in the face. He edged his mouth forward and drew on all his might to bite the man’s neck, on the jugular vein.

“
BASTARD! GET OFF! Leave me alone...”

Mordraud tore off
a large chunk of flesh, and found himself panting under a waterfall of blood.

“
MORDRAUD!”

The Stranger teetered and let go. Mordraud landed on his feet but at once leapt towards the carriage roof. Long wooden splinters sank into his palms and disappeared under the skin. Yet he felt nothing, homing in on Deanna
’s voice alone.

The carriage was rocking beneath him but it didn
’t stop him getting to his feet. Below, Deanna was struggling with another Stranger. Her ripped dress hung in tatters from her shoulders. Mordraud jumped down, clamped to the neck of that vile swine.

“
Come here, you. What d’you think you can do?!”

A punch. Another. Then another. His head boomed as if it were empty. The thief was scratching his back in an attempt to be free of him. Mordraud struggled to suffocate him, but he was too weak. He didn
’t have a man’s arms, like in his dream. His were mere sticks of nerveless flesh. All his strength was suppressed by panic, by the fear that something awful might happen to Deanna.

Mordraud
’s hand slipped down. It reached the hilt of a knife secured at the bandit’s waist. He didn’t hesitate an instant.

The blade went in as if into butter, around his whole grubby neck, until the head almost lopped on the body.

Deanna was screaming, hammering her face in her hands. A gush of blood struck her full on, while Mordraud pushed himself backwards in a desperate attempt not to topple on her. The weight of the dying outlaw crushed him to the ground. Everything went black.

***

“Have you heard? Mistress Deanna was attacked...”

“
They say it was thieves.”

“
So far east? Within the Alliance’s boundaries?! For love of the Gods...!”

“
They must have been deserters who took to the scrub... People can’t stand it anymore...”

The whole inn was telling the same story that evening. Gwern carried on working unperturbed, but his usual cheeriness had waned. Nobody knew if there
’d been casualties. Only that Deanna was unharmed.

‘
I just want to hear that Mordraud wasn’t hurt and is safe...’

They
’d all seen Deanna’s manservant arrive. The rumour had soon proved true. One dead soldier, more injured, but Deanna was still alive. Adraman had come to the fief a week after the attack, to speak to Eldain before taking a break. As soon as he heard the news, he set off, without dismounting from his horse and taking his personal guard with him.

“
Hey, Gwern, do you know what you have to take out?”

Larois was waiting, tray of beer in hand, for him to return from his world of speculation. Gwern took the order but hung around, not really knowing what to do.

“Table at the end, the one under the blunt spear. Come to the kitchen after that – we need a chat.”

Gwern moved mechanically,
handing out the tankards without looking the customers in the face. That evening he could think of nothing but his brother.

“
Go home. You need to rest.”

Larois wasn
’t in the mood for discussion. She seemed very concerned too. Gwern didn’t object, and untied his apron.

“
Try not to worry, though. They’re talking about one soldier dead, no servants.” In her haste to slice a celery stalk, the knife went too close to her fingers and Larois cut herself. Gwern had never seen her so agitated.

“
I’m the one who got him into this wretched situation,” was all she could say.

“
No, you’ve no reason to feel guilty,” Gwern said. “Who could have predicted something of the kind?!”

“
You’re probably right,” replied Larois, but she didn’t seem overly convinced. “Go home now, go on! Get some rest. I want you in better shape tomorrow!”

Gwern went out through the back without protesting. The innkeeper took a clean cloth and pressed it to her finger, staring at the blood
-stained chopping board. A good piece of celery to throw away, she mused, trying to distract herself. It didn’t work.

“
Let’s hope those two don’t go getting any funny ideas...” she mumbled, mopping up the mess she’d made in annoyance.

‘
Why didn’t I think of it before?! And now this, without Adraman to protect her... Only Mordraud at her side... No, he really is too young for her. Deanna couldn’t risk such a scandal...’

Larois tossed the cloth away and guzzled a glass of wine filled to the brim.

‘Come on, there’s the stew to finish,’ she thought.

She took the ladle and began irritably stirring the huge pot hanging over the fire.

‘What an awful day.’

***

“How’s your hand?”

“
Better. I think I’ll take the bandage off tomorrow. The wound’s healed enough I reckon.”

The villa gardens were gorgeous – a lush green park with benches, white gravel paths and ponds covered in water lilies. A cool quiet gem.

Mordraud spent most of the day outside with Deanna. Calming her hadn’t been easy. She relentlessly touched her face and neck, and twisted and tugged at her hair. He’d laboured a whole afternoon to get a single word from her mouth. He only woke up again the day following the raid, but he was in fairly good shape really, apart from the long cut on the palm of the hand he’d used for the knife. Others had come off much worse.