The Blood Curse (30 page)

Harkeld opened his mouth, and then shut it again.

“Linus gave up
everything
so that your mother could be born. So that you could be born. And he did it for kingdoms filled with people who would have killed him if they’d known he was a mage. How
dare
you despise him!”

Harkeld looked away from Gretel’s fierce gaze. He turned the leather pouch over in his hands. “I never thought about it from his point of view.”

“
That’s
obvious.”

Harkeld flushed. He felt shame, and a sharp, unexpected grief for the grandfather he’d never known.

Gretel stepped closer. “You are the fruit of Linus’s sacrifice.
You
may despise him, but he would have been proud of you.”

Harkeld glanced up, met her gaze.

“Linus was a hero.”

Harkeld nodded. He couldn’t find his voice.

For a moment Gretel looked as if she’d like to say more, then she turned away and headed back to the camp.

Harkeld stayed where he was, gripping the leather pouch. He glanced across at Petrus. The shapeshifter was standing half a dozen yards away, his expression neutral.

Petrus crouched, picked up the second leather pouch, walked across to him. “You all right?”

Harkeld nodded.

“You look like she hit you with a battle-ax.”

I feel like it
.

“Want to practice some more? I could throw sticks.”

Harkeld shook his head. “No, thanks. I, uh... I need to think.”

Petrus’s glance was appraising. “Think at the fire. You do it here, you’ll freeze to death.” He punched Harkeld’s shoulder. “Come on, whoreson.”

CHAPTER SIXTY-FIVE

S
OLL AND
H
ETCHEL
arrived while Jaumé was unrolling his sleeping mat.

“See them?” Vught asked, his voice low. He jerked his head warningly in the direction of the princess.

Soll nodded. “Twelve of ’em,” he said, his voice equally quiet. “Big bastards, well-armed. Soldiers for sure.”

“How far behind?”

“Less than three miles. They’re camped at that last crossroad.” He looked around. “Thought you’d be further ahead than this. Had some trouble?”

Vught grimaced. “Bitch jumped in the river. Nearly drowned.”

Soll grunted. He blew on his hands, rubbed them together, warming them.

“Where’s Krey?” Hetchel asked.

“Drowned.”

Hetchel pulled a face, shrugged. “We come, we go.”

“Three miles, you say?” Vught scowled, raked a hand through his hair. “We’ll have a second sentry tonight, at the half mile mark. Standard signal. Luit, you’re first.”

Luit nodded, and disappeared into the darkness.

Jaumé helped Soll and Hetchel unsaddle their horses, but when he came back to the fire, Bennick pointed at the sleeping mat. “Bed.”

Jaumé obeyed silently. He curled up in his blanket, listening to the wind, listening to the murmur of voices. The four Brothers were dark silhouettes by the fire, leaning close to one another, their voices low.

Twelve of ’em. Big bastards.

Jaumé shivered. He was afraid. Was he going to die tomorrow?

CHAPTER SIXTY-SIX

B
RITTA LAY AWAKE
for a long time, staring up at the sky. Leader’s voice echoed in her ears. Horror reverberated inside her.

Gradually the horror faded. Leader’s voice dwindled to a whisper and was blown away by the wind. The coolness of the night seemed to fill her.

She gazed up at the sky, at the stars wheeling slowly overhead, the half-moon. The stars and the moon were the All-Mother. The dirt she lay on was the All-Mother. The air she breathed, the All-Mother.

Dead or alive, I lie in the All-Mother’s bosom.

With that thought, came calmness.

CHAPTER SIXTY-SEVEN

T
HEY ROUSED BEFORE
dawn, ate a hasty meal, saddled the horses.

“After we rescue Brigitta, what then?” Prince Tomas asked.

Karel checked the gelding’s girth strap, and tightened the buckle a notch. He heard King Magnas’s voice clearly in his ears:
Bring Brigitta back if you can. Help Harkeld if you can. The curse
must
be stopped
.

“Depending on our losses... maybe some of us can push further into Sault, try to help Harkeld.”

“I’d like to go,” the prince said. He scuffed one boot in the dirt. “I didn’t part well with Harkeld. My father is right: he’s Harkeld first, not a witch, but I didn’t see that then. I saw only the witch.”

Karel glanced at him. Was this more than a heroic quest to Tomas? Did he have something personal at stake? “Certainly you can go, sire.”

He swung up into his saddle and watched the armsmen mount. Daylight crept over the horizon. He could see the crossroads where they’d camped, could see everyone’s faces. Some of the men looked determined, some grim, some flashed grins when they met his gaze.

The horses had caught the tension. They sidled and tossed their heads, put their ears back.

“We’re only a couple of miles behind them,” Karel said, once everyone was mounted. “Once we see them, we’ll split in two; six overtake, six stay behind. Sire, you and Gunvald grab the princess and get out of there, fast as you can.” He waited until he saw the two men nod.

“The boy?” Lief asked.

“Don’t touch him—unless he engages us.”

More nods.

“Strike hard and fast. No hesitation. And remember—we outnumber them. This is a battle we’ll win.”

But some of these men would die today. He knew that. They knew that.

A good commander would launch into a rousing speech now, fill the armsmen with confidence and optimism, but he didn’t have a rousing speech. Karel glanced at Dag. “Got a joke for us?”

Dag grinned, his teeth catching the faint light. “Got a good one, if we’ve got time.”

Karel nodded.

The armsmen jostled their mounts closer to hear.

“Once upon a time there was this queen, a real beauty she was, with the most bountiful breasts you ever saw.” Dag cupped his hands in front of his chest, miming the size. “An armsman called...” his gaze skimmed the watching faces, “Solveig desperately wanted to touch ’em, but he knew he’d be put to death if he did.”

Solveig grinned good-naturedly.

“One day Solveig told his friend, Eivor, the Royal Physician, that the queen’s breasts were driving him mad. Eivor thought about it for a bit, then said he could arrange for Solveig to touch the queen’s breasts, but it would cost him ten gold pieces.

“Solveig agreed, and the next day Eivor made a batch of itching powder and put some in the queen’s breast-band while she bathed. Soon after she dressed, the itching started, and grew and grew until she was nearly mad with it. The king summoned Eivor to provide a cure, and Eivor said he knew of only one thing for an itch like that. Saliva. But—” Dag held up a finger. “It had to be
special
saliva, and the only man he knew of with such saliva was one of the king’s armsmen, Solveig.”

Karel glanced around. The armsmen were grinning as they listened.

“So the king summoned Solveig, who declared he was loyal and ready for any task the king set him. Eivor gave Solveig the antidote for the itching powder, and he put it in his mouth and set to work curing the queen’s itch.”

Prince Tomas snorted a laugh.

“It took an hour for the queen’s itching to stop, and a more pleasurable hour Solveig had never spent. He went back to his rooms feeling very pleased with himself and not a little lusty, keeping an eye out for a likely serving maid, but when he got there he found Eivor demanding his ten gold pieces. Now, Solveig had a name for being tight—” a quick grin at Solveig, “... and he knew Eivor could never tell the king what had happened, so he just laughed and told Eivor to rut off.”

Dag paused for a long moment, and looked around at the faces of the listening armsmen. His gaze came to rest finally on Solveig. His grin widened. “The next day, Eivor slipped a large dose of itching powder into the king’s breech-clout. When the itching started, the king immediately called for his most loyal armsman, Sol—”

The shout of laughter cut off Solveig’s name. It was so loud it startled the horses. Karel’s mount half-reared. He soothed the gelding, laughing, stroking his hand down the creature’s neck.

It took a few minutes to settle the horses. Tall Lief was still chuckling. Karel caught Dag’s eye, gave a nod of thanks.

T
HEY RODE EAST
from the crossroads, into a cold, blustering wind. Daylight spread across the sky. Karel glanced back at the armsmen. He wasn’t the only rider still grinning. He urged the mare from a trot to a canter. Eagerness filled him, flowing like blood in his veins. Today was the day. They were so close he could taste it on his tongue.

The sky lightened further. The hills were no longer formless black shapes. He saw rocks, saw thorn trees. The wind moaned, but beneath that was memory of the armsmen’s laughter. An excellent way to start a day like this, with a belly laugh.

Karel took it as a good omen.

CHAPTER SIXTY-EIGHT

T
HE
B
ROTHERS DIDN’T
seem worried that twelve soldiers were only a few miles behind them. They packed up the camp with the same unhurried efficiency as always, rolling up the sleeping mats, loading the packhorses, saddling the riding mounts.

Jaumé climbed up on his pony and waited beside Bennick. Bennick was watching Soll tie the princess’s wrists to her pommel, frowning thoughtfully.

Vught came up alongside them. “You still as good as you were with that bow and arrow?”

“I’m even better.”

Vught snorted. His mare pranced sideways a few feet and he dug his heels into her flanks, brought her back. “When we find a good place I’ll put you to picking off those bastards. The more you get, the better.”

Bennick grinned. “Maybe I won’t leave any for the rest of you.”

Vught snorted again.

Bennick’s grin faded. His gaze returned to the princess. “Whatever you threatened her with, it didn’t work.”

Vught stared hard at the princess. His mouth twisted sourly. “Hetchel!” he called.