Renegade Heart (10 page)

I
n the short time since the arrival of the women a change had come over the camp. The men seemed more settled and those who had been injured were making good progress under the care of Taola and Eija. At the campfire, Krisha had become a firm favourite with her sweet nature and her considerable talent for cooking. Magnosa had taken a place on the Council, forming a close partnership with Fairac, and had quickly earned the respect of the men.

As well as caring for Hawk, Enola had taken up lessons with the other girls, spending hours each day learning how to ride a horse and wield a sword, a weapon she found particularly cumbersome and had not taken to at all. In her opinion, the archery lessons were better by far. An increasingly confident Lark was proving to be a popular and capable tutor, not only with the girls, but with quite a few of the men too. Even little Hawk had taken to proudly strutting around the camp with a miniature bow slung over his shoulder.

Since sharing that awkward kiss a couple of days ago, Enola had not managed to find any time to be alone with Lark and during the archery lessons they were careful not to be caught indulging in lingering looks or touches. Both of them were aware that Lark’s newfound acceptance among the renegades was still tenuous and, seeing how much the approval of the others mattered, Enola vowed she would do nothing to spoil it for him.

They had been in the forest almost a week when a stranger rode into camp. The rider looked surprised, but not overly concerned to find himself greeted by a wall of swords and arrows.

“I seek an audience with your leader,” he called out. “Who claims the title now that Tregaar is dead?”

“That would be me.” Fairac stepped forward, his sword held aloft. “Although I assure you, my position is a temporary one. I am merely holding court until a more suitable candidate can be found.”

“Fairac, we have met before,” the man said, boldly dismounting from his horse and electing to ignore the circle of weapons pointed at him anew. “You came to my home with Tregaar three times or more when he came to me for information from the city.”

“I remember,” Fairac replied with a curt nod although his tone remained guarded. “What brings you here, Jayto?”

“I bring news.” Jayto’s eyes scanned the ragged group of renegades and he frowned. “But I fear it will be of little use to you. I did not realise your number was so few. Or that this once strong band now consists of invalids and women.”

“We are still stronger than most,” Magnosa said coldly. She left the ranks to stand at Fairac’s side, looking impressive dressed as she was in a man’s tunic and breeches, her lips blood red and her cheeks rouged. “So, please, impart your news and allow us to judge its worth.”

“You heard the lady.” Fairac grinned, and Enola wondered if she was the only one to notice how his eyes brimmed with pride and adoration as he looked over at Magnosa.

Jayto shrugged broad shoulders. He had come with news and it was of no difference to him if it was told to a bunch of women. Nor was it his concern what they chose to do with the information. As far as he could see, the war was over for the renegades. Most of them were dead or about to die and those left would be scattered to the four winds before the turn was at its end.

“The king’s birthday celebrations are to take place one week from this day. His gift to himself is the execution of the captured renegades. It was hoped by many you would mount a rescue attempt, but I see now that is impossible.”

“I disagree,” Magnosa said turning to Fairac. “Maybe it has become necessary to act sooner than we would have liked, but isn’t this what we have worked so hard towards?”

“Let us assemble the Council,” Fairac replied, unwilling to discuss their plans in front of the messenger. There was something about Jayto he did not like or trust. For all they knew, the man would return to the King’s City and report back to the army. The element of surprise would be lost if the soldiers knew they were coming, and with it the only chance the renegades had of saving their brothers.

With Jayto reluctantly on his way back to his home in the city the Council gathered around the fire while everyone else drifted away to their chores and waited to hear their fate. Enola found herself at a loose end, having checked on Hawk and found him sleeping peacefully in their shelter, blissfully unaware of the air of anxiety that suddenly gripped the camp. She tucked the blanket around his shoulder, careful not to disturb him and straightened up just in time to see Lark slip into the trees.

Enola cast a furtive glance around the camp, observing all those around her seemed too absorbed in their own worries to notice her follow Lark into the forest. She found him by the stream where they had first met and he looked up with a smile that failed to reach his eyes.

“It’s over, isn’t it?”

“What is?”

“All of this.” Lark spread his hands wide, all encompassing. “The camp, the renegades.” He hesitated. “Us.”

Enola smiled softly. “There is no
us
, Lark. There never was. As for the renegades, they grow stronger every day. And there are other bands.”

“Yes, but they are not the ones about to march on the city.”

Enola took his hands, entwining their fingers as she gazed up at him. “You’re afraid, I know, but…”

“Of course I’m afraid!” Lark interrupted. “There are only two ways for this to end. Either we go into battle and we all die or, by some miracle, we succeed in freeing the renegades and Wolf comes back to claim you as his own. Either way I lose you.”

Enola stared at him and wondered again what form of magic this quiet, gentle young man had worked upon her. She loved Wolf, had
always
loved Wolf, yet the thought of seeing him again filled her with a sense of dread she had never known. His fearsome reputation frightened her and the courageous warrior the renegades spoke of was far removed from the boy she had adored for so long.

And there was Lark, standing in front of her with shining eyes and softly parted lips, making her desire him in a way she had never desired Wolf.

What had become of the innocent, naïve child she had been back in the Walled City? As she had often seen the girls do with the gentleman callers in the whore house, she brazenly pressed her hand between his legs, smiling into his blue-grey eyes as she cupped his manhood through his breeches.

“Enola!” Lark made a half-hearted protest and grabbed her wrist. But instead of pushing her away, he pulled her closer, grinding against her hand with a small moan of pleasure.

Enola had suspected Lark was still a virgin, but he seemed to know exactly what he was doing as he hurriedly laid her on the ground and pushed her skirts up around her waist. Her fingers trembled as she fumbled with the lace of his breeches, hardly able to believe her own wantonness. As soon as he was free of the restricting material she took him in her hand, her need for him building unbearably as she felt his hardness. She parted her legs and welcomed him inside her, winding her fingers through his hair and held him close while he drove into her with long deep thrusts, making her writhe in ecstasy beneath him.

Such was the passion between them that the sex could never have lasted for long and she had to bite down on her lip to prevent herself from crying out as they climaxed together. As soon as he was finished, Lark rolled away from her, tucking his now soft dick away and fastening his breeches while he murmured an apology.

Disappointed and suddenly humiliated, Enola pulled down her petticoats and got to her feet. Lark shifted uncomfortably, unable to meet her questioning gaze.

“I’m sorry,” he said again. “I know I wasn’t very good.”

“Lark, why would you say that? It was…wonderful.”

“Enola!” The pair of them swung around guiltily as Magnosa strode into the clearing, her displeasure at finding them together evident on her painted face. “Come with me. Lark, go and find something useful to do.”

Enola followed Magnosa through the camp to the older woman’s shelter. The moment they were away from prying eyes Magnosa rounded on her furiously.

“You stupid girl,” she hissed through clenched teeth. “I am so angry with you right now I could slap you!”

“Why?” Enola asked innocently, still desperately hoping she had not been seen with Lark. “What have I done?”

Magnosa shot her a withering look and reached beneath her straw mattress. She pulled out a small silver flask and handed it to Enola.

“Drink it.”

“What is it?” Enola tentatively sniffed at the pungent liquid and wrinkled her nose in distaste.

“It kills the seed,” Magnosa said coldly, “before it has the chance to plant a child in your belly.”

“Oh.” Enola raised the flask to her nose, her cheeks burning hotly as she sniffed tentatively at the bitter potion. A thought occurred to her and she looked at Magnosa anxiously. These days, wherever the elegant Madame went, the renegade leader Fairac followed close behind. She knew the consequences of being seen together would be far worse for Lark than for her. “Magnosa, did Fairac see?”

Magnosa shrugged, obviously torn between the girl she loved as a daughter and the man she had quickly grown so fond of since being in the camp. Before she could answer, they heard the girls screaming her name from across the camp and then Eija appeared in the shelter, panic stricken and breathless from running. The girl’s eyes flew from Magnosa to the flask clutched in Enola’s shaking hand and her face flooded with sudden comprehension.

“They’re going to kill him,” she said simply.

Enola ran, knowing that Magnosa and Eija were close behind her, despite Magnosa’s frequent claim that there was no matter so urgent a lady should ever be prompted to run.

On the other side of the camp the men had formed a circle, savagely baying for blood like wild animals. In the centre of the circle was Lark, his wrists tethered above his head to a wooden post, the shirt stripped from his back. Clearly he was terrified, but at the sound of Enola’s approach he turned his head towards her, silently pleading with her to turn away. Behind him, Fairac paced back and forth brandishing a heavy leather strop.

The girls hung back on the outside of the circle. Taola and Eija wrapped their arms tightly around Enola although whether it was meant as a gesture of comfort or to prevent her rushing to Lark’s aid she did not know. For Magnosa, the men held no fear and she pushed her way between them before confronting Fairac in the centre of the circle.

“Back down, woman,” Fairac snarled in her direction. “This is renegade business.”

“Are we not renegades?” Magnosa questioned, her voice clear and sharp. Her tone was enough to quell the clamouring voices of the assembled men and an eerie silence settled over the camp as everyone waited to see what would happen next. “Have we not lived and trained alongside you these past weeks? Have we not cared for your sick and put food in your bellies?”

“Granted that you have, my dear,” Fairac grumbled, attempting to stand firm before his men. “And that is why you must understand the need for justice. The boy cannot be allowed to get away with what he has done. He must pay for his crime.”

“And what crime is that?” Magnosa challenged. “Has he committed murder? Has he stolen from you? Or is his crime simply to fall in love?”

“With another man’s woman!” Fairac spat and the men jeered in accord.

“I see.” Magnosa nodded wisely. “Then you must do as you see fit. Only…”

She hesitated which, as was her plan, was enough to cause Fairac to hesitate too. Around them the men fell silent again, unsure which of the two people before them was actually winning the argument. Some of them privately hoped it was the woman. While they abided by the rule of not taking another man’s woman they could not entirely blame young Lark for falling for Enola. The girl was incredibly beautiful. If not for the fact she belonged to Wolf there were a few of them who would have been tempted to try their luck.

“Only what?” Fairac muttered crossly when the silence became unbearable and it was clear Magnosa was not about to elaborate without being asked.

“Only we, whose number are so few, are about to march on the King’s City. We are about to go into battle, inexperienced young women and wounded men against an army of highly trained soldiers.”

“So?”

“So is it really wise to lose our best archer at such a time?”

For a moment Fairac appeared wracked with indecision. He could see the sense in what Magnosa was saying. The boy had proven himself useful in battle and they would surely need him when they reached the city. On the other hand he could not, as a renegade leader, be seen to let the boy go without punishment.

“Fine. Release him,” he said sourly, addressing the watching men. “But he is not to leave the camp or speak to Wolf’s woman. Should he survive the upcoming battle he will face his punishment at the hands of the man he has wronged.”

As Lark was untied and the band dispersed now the excitement was over, Fairac pulled Magnosa roughly to one side where they would not be overheard.

“I hope you are pleased with yourself, woman,” he said, and she looked at him sharply, surprised by the heavy note of sorrow in his voice. “I was only going to thrash the boy for show. Wolf will kill him for real.”

A
n air of grim determination gripped the men imprisoned beneath the castle. They worked relentlessly day and night, exercising, training, building their strength and planning their rebellion. Even Trobard’s more mature and refined companions were keen to help and, although the physical fight was clearly beyond them, it turned out they knew a great deal about the castle and city. The information they provided of hidden tunnels and secret passageways would prove invaluable when the time came to make their escape.

Or useful when the opportunity came to hunt down Ombar, as was Wolf’s intention, and rid the kingdom of his tyranny once and for all. He had told nobody of his plan, certain Saker and the renegades would attempt to stop him. Sometimes, however, he would catch the old man Trobard staring at him with such intensity that Wolf felt sure he could see right inside his head and know what he was thinking. But if the old man had guessed anything at all of Wolf’s plans he seemed content to keep it to himself for the time being. Wolf suspected it was because the old man was almost willing him to assassinate the king.

In the early hours of the morning, a few days before the king’s birthday celebrations were to take place, the castle guards poured into the dungeon by the dozen, causing widespread panic among the prisoners. Many of them feared they had been fooled into believing death awaited them on the gallows and that, instead, they were to be slaughtered in the dark underground cavern with no chance of fighting back. But the guards were intent on one thing only. They pushed the men aside until they found the one they were looking for – the young renegade with the clear blue eyes and wild black hair.

“It will be okay,” Wolf said calmly as he was seized by the guards. He saw the despair and helplessness in the eyes of the men and he scanned their faces, searching out his old friend. “Saker, this changes nothing. You know what you must do.”

Saker nodded, but Wolf was dragged away from him before he could give an answer.

Even as he was pushed, pulled and prodded along narrow stone corridors and up steep winding staircases, Wolf was not afraid. If his time had come then he would meet it face on, his head held high. His one regret would be that he had not seen Enola one last time. But, if one day she should learn of his fate he wanted her to know he had died a proud and fearless man, a Wolf who could not and would not be tamed.

Eventually the guards hauled him into a large room and threw him roughly to the floor. Wolf rolled and was on his feet in an instant, ready to fight the first man to come at him. The guards made no move towards him. They stood to attention, their eyes fixed on a point somewhere behind him.

For the first time Wolf took in his surroundings, noticing the size and grandeur of the room they were in. The windows were vast and draped in heavy velvet, the furniture obscenely ornate. He turned slowly, observing first the royal throne and second, the man who sat upon it.

Although he had never laid eyes on him before, Wolf needed no introduction to know the identity of the man before him. But what would Ombar want with him, the lowly bastard son of a long dead renegade? Why single him out for an audience when there were men in the dungeon far more learned?

“I have heard many good things of you,” Ombar began and there was something about his manner which, curiously, brought the old man Trobard to Wolf’s mind. “The boy who would pretend to be a renegade leader.”

“Yet I hear nothing but ill of you,” Wolf replied evenly. “The man who would pretend to be a rightful king.”

Instantly one of the guards rushed forward and struck Wolf hard around the back of his head, knocking him to the floor. Ombar’s laughter echoed around the opulent room.

“You see?” he said mildly as Wolf regained his feet. “I have plenty of people who are loyal to me.”

“And I’m sure they are paid handsomely for it.”

“Leave him!” Ombar barked as the guard moved to strike Wolf for a second time. He leaned back on his throne and studied the young man solemnly over the tips of his steepled fingers. “Do you know how my people describe you? They say you are a boy with ice in your eyes and fire in your belly. I wonder though, child, which of those you hold in your heart?”

“I’m no child,” Wolf snapped. “And you waste my time, old man, talking in riddles.”

Ombar laughed again, a rich and melodious sound that sounded out of place in the sombre setting. “Are you in such a hurry to get to the gallows that you have no time to hear news of your family?”

“I have no family.”

“Are you sure?” Ombar feigned puzzlement. “Then I wonder who the child could be who currently resides in the forest with your old band of renegades.”

“What child?” Wolf asked, mentally kicking himself for allowing his curiosity to show. Ombar was crazy, lying to him, trying to trick him somehow, though he failed to see what the old man hoped to achieve. How could there be a child in the camp? Even if it were true, it was impossible for it to be his, not when there had only ever been that one time with Enola.

“I have spies in the forest,” Ombar said, “including a man in your camp. I’m told your band is now overrun with women. Your old friend, Fairac, takes his orders from a whore named Magnosa and the men have turned soft, playing nursemaid to a boy with blue eyes and black hair. Just like yours.”

“You lie!” Wolf said with a tremor of uncertainty in his voice.

“I’m told the mother is quite a beauty,” Ombar continued. “Although, unfortunately for you, she has allowed herself to be bedded by the camp runt. Tell me, Renegade, is this boy Lark a close friend of yours? I assume that would be why he has taken it upon himself to service your woman for you.”

With a cry of pure rage Wolf lunged at the man on the throne, quickly tackled to the floor by the guards before he could reach him. Ombar watched impassively as it took a half dozen guards some considerable effort to restrain the young renegade. Finally, the fight went out of the boy and he ceased to struggle. At Ombar’s signal, the guards released him, but stayed close, ready for if he tried to attack the king again.

“Why tell me this?” Wolf asked bitterly.

“Because I’m going to let you go,” Ombar said unexpectedly. “You can go back to the forest and punish the young upstart who would take your place. Then take your woman and child and go. You will forget about any rescue attempt on the men in the dungeon and you will instruct the rest of your band to disperse. Leave my kingdom, boy, and I will let you and your family live. If you stay and the renegades attack the city I will keep you alive just long enough to watch your woman and child suffer slow and painful deaths.”

He smiled, apparently satisfied with the offer he had just made. Of course, in the end, he could not allow the boy to live. He feared Wolf would one day become a strong and powerful adversary, already lauded and respected at such a young age by his peers. But Ombar could not risk the renegades upsetting his birthday celebrations. The executions must go ahead with Trobard dying unnoticed among the renegade ranks. If the men in the dungeon believed the boy had deserted them to save his own skin it would break the spirit and they would present no further threat to his plans. As for the renegades in the forest, they would fall into disarray when they realised Wolf had no intention of leading them. Once the renegades had disbanded, he would send troops after the boy and ensure he did not live long enough to fulfil his potential.

“You expect me to walk away and forget about my men?”

“Yes.” Ombar could see a change in the young man and knew he had won. If he had been a kinder man by nature he might even have felt some sympathy for him. At first, Ombar had assumed the renegade was bluffing when he claimed to be ignorant of the child’s existence, but now he believed the boy had really not known. But it was more than that. It was not the impact of sudden fatherhood that had shattered him, but the knowledge his beloved had willingly spread her legs for another man.

“It is for you to decide which is more important to you. By all means, stay and hang if you wish. I’ll make sure your son swings next to you. As for the girl, I think I may keep her for myself.”

The threat to Enola was enough to force Wolf’s decision. Unbearable as it was to think of her with Lark, to think of her at Ombar’s mercy was far worse.

By noon he was on his way out of the city astride an ancient, bone weary mount. Despite the nag’s best efforts it could manage no faster than a half-hearted trot and there were frequent times on his journey that Wolf thought he would reach the forest quicker if he were to dismount and continue of foot.

It was dusk before the outline of trees appeared on the horizon, fully dark by the time he breached the edge of the forest. He had been riding for hours and felt as stiff and tired as his old horse, but he forced himself to keep moving, fuelled by ever growing anger and his hatred for Lark.

Before long, he spied the orange flicker of the camp fire through the trees. He reined in his horse and considered how best to make his approach. If he tried to sneak into camp unseen he risked running into a sentry, and although he had no doubt he could best any man in camp, there was only one renegade he wished to do harm. On the other hand, if he rode boldly into camp as a free man he could not be sure of his welcome. The men would be angry and suspicious, more so if the first thing he did was snatch up a sword and run through that treacherous bastard Lark.

A short way off from the camp Wolf called out, alerting them to his presence and bringing the men running from all directions. He was welcomed by a barrage of manly hugs and heartfelt back slapping. He endured it all with good grace, even though every hand laid upon him made him want to scream aloud. He fought down his temper, knowing if it were unleashed he would lash out at anyone without caring, wanting them all to hurt as much as he did.

And then he saw her, his Enola walking slowly towards him, her face pale with shock. Her pace increased until she was running full pelt and she threw herself against his chest. Wolf hesitated briefly before forcing himself to bring up his arms and wrap them around her slender body. Enola stood on tiptoe to kiss him and it took all of Wolf’s self-control not to pull away from her, thinking only of how those same soft lips must have kissed Lark.

Enola tilted her head back, troubled brown eyes searching his face. Obviously there was something wrong, but he was no longer the devoted child she could read like a book. He smiled, raising a hand to stroke her hair and fool her into believing he was simply tired after his long journey.

“I have someone I want you to meet,” she said, relaxing slightly. “Hawk, come here. Come say hello to your papa.” She held out her hand to the small boy peeking shyly from behind Magnosa’s legs. The child came to stand at his mother’s side and stared up at Wolf with curiosity. “Wolf, this is your son.”

Wolf’s heart beat so hard at the sight of his child, he thought it was highly possible it would burst free of his chest. He gazed down at the miniature version of himself with absolutely no idea of what he was supposed to say or do. After a few moments of loaded silence the boy became unnerved and started to cry. Enola picked him up and he buried his face in her shoulder.

“I think we should leave the men to talk,” Magnosa said, moving forward to take Enola’s arm. “Wolf and Hawk will have time to get to know each other later.”

She looked at Wolf sharply as though expecting something from him and he stared back evenly. The old witch had never liked him, once accusing him of ruining Enola’s life. Did she approve more of Enola’s liaison with Lark? Had she encouraged it?

“Magnosa is right,” Fairac spoke up and Wolf’s icy gaze flicked in his direction. He had always found the man to be amiable and mild mannered, but he was no leader. If this was the best the renegades had to offer then Ombar had no reason to fear them. “How did you escape, Wolf?”

“I didn’t,” Wolf answered. “Ombar let me go.”

“Why would he do that?” Fairac asked as a murmur of discontent rippled through the men. “Why you and no other?”

“I don’t know,” Wolf lied, glancing in the direction the women had taken Enola and the child. “But he wants me to bring you a message.”

“What message?”

“That we are to disband. If we leave the realm Ombar will allow us to live.”

“What of the others?”

“We are to leave them to their fate. They know you are coming, Fairac. If you take the renegades to the city, Ombar’s army will be waiting for you. You will be slain in the streets before you reach the castle.”

“So we abandon them?” Fairac demanded furiously. “Just turn our backs and skulk away into the night like cowards? I can’t believe I’m hearing this from you, Wolf. Has imprisonment changed you so much?”

“It changed nothing!” Wolf spat. “I was told to give you the message and I have done so. But I’m no coward, Fairac. Saker and the men are ready to fight. There are others too. They will not die easily. We will be there to help set them free. Ombar was a fool to let me go, because I know ways into the castle that he doesn’t know exist.”

Suddenly, Wolf’s fists clenched at his side as a familiar figure appeared on the far side of the camp. The rage surged inside his chest and he swallowed hard, fighting to smother the anger before it became evident. Lark ducked into one of the wooden shelters and Wolf endeavoured to put him out of his mind. It could wait for now, but one day soon Lark would be made to pay for crossing him.