The Subtle Beauty (3 page)

The door had been battered open and hung in broken pieces. Xander leapt over the rubble, squinting in the darkness. Bodies lay on the floor. He stooped by one and recognized his captain of the guard. A glance over his shoulder revealed three of his other best men. Xander swore under his breath and stole up the staircase. He found Maeb gagged, bound, and unconscious in a darkened corner. He checked her pulse and breathed a sigh of relief.
Alive
. He whispered an apology and left her as he found her. He didn’t want her causing a commotion and running off to find Aowyn only to get herself in to more danger.

He tightened his grip around Idegwaed and crouched, prowling down the hall. He heard Aowyn’s scream. He was getting close. The sound of pottery smashing and bodies clunking against furniture was just around the bend. When he reached the door, he kicked it open.

“Unhand my wife.”

The burly man captured Aowyn by the wrist and pulled her close to him. He chuckled. “My men and I were beginning to wonder if you were coming back.” He regarded Aowyn momentarily and laughed again. “Who do I kid? A pretty girl like this. Of course you would come back.” His lips curled as he pressed his nose to Aowyn’s jawbone, breathing deeply.

Aowyn stared at Xander in terror, uttering his name. The man covered her mouth and pressed a dagger to her throat.

Xander growled. He tightened his hold on Idegwaed and took a step in their direction. “Let her go.”

The man looked at him from the corners of his eyes with a baleful grin. “Uh, uh, uh, Barwn Blackthorn. Play nice now.”

Xander began to circle them. Who was this man? Why had he come? By the looks of his furs, his cape, and the rings on his beefy knuckles, he was a man of importance. Xander continued to pace around them, frustrated that Aowyn was being kept between them like a shield.

“Tell me where you are from,” Xander snarled, “so that I may send your head there when I cut it off.”

The man sniggered. “Such a shame they want her dead. She’s so very beautiful.”

Xander’s anger raged as the man pressed his tongue against Aowyn’s cheek and slowly slithered it up to her temple. Aowyn’s breath coursed and her eyes flashed. She bit hard into the man’s finger until a line of blood trickled to the floor. The man sounded like thunder, “You venomous she-devil!”

He grabbed her and threw her over his shoulder, bolting for the door. Xander had not been mindful and left it unguarded. He charged after them. The man was lumbering down the hall. Xander could hear Maeb clucking beneath her gag, then squawking and making a ruckus as the man drew near. With a bellow and a mighty heave, Xander hurled Idegwaed after him. The falchion sang through the air and buried herself deep between the man’s shoulder blades. The man sucked in a sudden breath and paused mid-stride. He staggered toward Xander, his eyes open capaciously. Xander bolted to grab Aowyn and push the man forward. With a deafening thud, the man fell. Xander held Aowyn close. She trembled in his arms. Xander took her face with both hands and looked her in the eyes. He didn’t need to speak the words he was thinking, wondering if she was alright. She simply nodded and hugged him hard. He scooped her up, cradling her, and leaned his forehead against hers. He walked down the hall slowly, never wanting to take his eyes from Aowyn again. The world seemed to disappear. He made way to their bedroom and gently laid his wife on the bed, pressing his mouth to hers softly. He made her comfortable and dropped to one knee, weaving his fingers with hers. “Tell me what happened.”

Aowyn winced. “It happened so fast. One moment we were enjoying dinner, the next the castle went dark. Our men started fighting. Maeb and I tried to escape, and then that man…” she shuddered, then cried, “Oh, Xander, where were you?”

Xander kissed Aowyn’s knuckles. This was his fault. If he had been here to protect his keep, this might not have happened. “This will never happen again. I swear it.”

“How can you promise that with assurance?”

Xander looked at her earnestly. “Everything will be different from now on.” He leaned over the bed, placing a hand on his wife’s belly. He kissed the widest part of it and spoke quietly. “You will never have to fight for our land so long as I live.”

His fingers tightened around Aowyn’s nightgown as the baby kicked beneath his hand. He kissed Aowyn long and deeply, then rose.

Aowyn stirred uncomfortably. “That sword you had… I’ve never seen it before. Where did you get it?”

Xander tensed and said nothing.

Aowyn tried to turn his head to look at her. “I have only seen one other like it, forged by a creature from our lands. Tell me where you got that sword.”

Xander clenched his fists.

Aowyn choked. “Sylas Mortas. You’ve been to him, haven’t you?”

Xander turned his back.

“You don’t understand what you’re dealing with, Xan. I
know
him. He will only make things worse for us. Even the gods want no business with him! Please believe me.”

“I love you. Goodbye.”

“Where are you going?” Aowyn shifted in bed. “Please don’t leave me alone.”

Xander glanced over his shoulder as he exited the room and shut the door behind him. Any threat to Aowyn was a threat to his son and must be hunted down without hesitation.

He returned to the man’s body, took his dagger, and dislodged Idegwaed from her sticking place. He strode to Maeb, shook his head, then cut her loose and ungagged her. Maeb started ranting in her tongue. Xander ignored her and helped her up. When she paused to take a breath before her next tirade, Xander shoved the dagger into her hands. “Go to Aowyn. Protect her. Do not leave her side. In the morning, you shall have fresh men to guard the keep. Understand?”

Maeb nodded and waddled down the hall to the bedroom.

Xander bolted downstairs to the bailey and mounted Rhun.

“Aowyn…”
the gods called again.

Aowyn answered their beckoning and rose slowly from her bed. Maeb snored beside her, clutching the dagger she had been given. Aowyn crept to the window, bathing in the last moonlight before dawn. She hoped the gods would show her another vision of her son.

“I am here,” she whispered. “What would you have of me?”

“Behold Xander
…
”

Aowyn found herself enveloped by a dawn as red as fire. This canvas was painted with her husband marching into a castle. He swung a terrible black sword at the guards, slicing through their armor and rending them to their knees. A spin found the blade clean through another guard’s belly. The next was beheaded. More and more guards came, but Xander only grew stronger with each kill. His face was grim. Aowyn barely recognized him. He was dropping men dead as easily as rain fell until he reached a throne room. He pointed his sword at the Iarll in charge. “Swear fealty to me or die,” Xander demanded.

The Iarll at throne was aghast and trembling. With a wave of his hand, a servant brought him his sword. The Iarll took it, then dropped to his knees and proffered up his blade to Xander.

Xander snatched it. For a moment he looked unsure of himself. He erupted with a sudden holler, and beheaded the man. He breathed hard as he stood over him. Xander looked at the servants and pointed the blades at them. “You answer to me now.”

The servants cowered in a corner and nodded emphatically.

Xander kicked the body across the floor, blood streaking the polished tiles. “Clean this mess up.”

Aowyn watched Xander march back outside and return to Rhun. He rode forth unopposed.

The red dawn grew brighter.

Aowyn bit back a cry. “Why do you show me this?”

“Xander walks a dark road,”
the gods answered.
“He has sought the aid of Sylas Mortas.”

Aowyn looked on as Xander rode into another city. Women and children fled before him. He offered his ultimatum to the men at arms. Those who refused met a swift end.

“He must be stopped,”
the gods said.

Tears burned Aowyn’s ruddy cheeks. Surely this was not
her
Xander. The world went black, and she awoke in her bed.

Birds chirped outside. It was a beautiful day.

She looked over her shoulder. Maeb snored loudly, clutching the dagger she had been given.

“Maeb.” Aowyn poked her. Maeb stopped snoring and opened an eye. “Maeb, how did Xander find Sylas Mortas?”

Maeb shut her eye and let loose the loudest snore of all.

Aowyn grimaced. She leaned close to Maeb and muttered, “You’re useless.” She threw back the covers. She never saw Maeb’s pained expression.

Xander lit from Rhun’s back. His boots hit the earth in a dusty cloud. Idegwaed rested in his hand, bloodied from a two-day rampage. He grabbed the wrist of the first man he came across and hacked off his hand. It was a hand that could pose a threat to Aowyn and their son. He moved on mercilessly, bringing down anyone who came across his path. A twisted pit of excitement formed in his stomach. He was keenly aware of the way his muscles flexed whenever he danced with Idegwaed. The sunlight that beat off his shoulders now only made him more aroused. Even the guards were fleeing before him by the time he reached this city. He strode into the great hall, offering his ultimatum to the Tywysog of this province. The Tywysog rose swiftly and drew his sword. Servants quickly equipped him with a shield.

Xander shook his head. “Do you think that will save your rotten hide?”

The Tywysog banged his sword against it, announcing his intent.

Xander grasped Idegwaed’s hilt and rushed the Tywysog. The Tywysog deflected Idegwaed with the shield and whacked Xander in the back with the flat of his blade tauntingly. Xander growled and windmilled around, crashing Idegwaed against the other sword. He pressed the attack. Idegwaed’s obsidian edge scraped down toward the Tywysog’s hand. The Tywysog clenched his jaw and kicked out, shoving Xander back and slicing at his shoulder. Xander spun away, just in time, and cut hard into the Tywysog’s thigh. The Tywysog bawled and staggered, clutching his leg. Xander raced toward him, Idegwaed raised over his head. The Tywysog tried to limp away as Idegwaed fell through the air. The Tywysog lifted his sword, and the black blade glanced away. The Tywysog forced himself upright, his face drawn and pale. Xander swung at his head, then his shield arm. Idegwaed’s tongue sparked against its rival and then bit into the shield arm. It gnawed through bone, and the shield fell. The arm hung awkwardly, sinew exposed. Xander reeled around and swept the legs out from beneath the Tywysog with the flat side of Idegwaed, then grabbed the Tywysog’s hair, pulling his head back to expose the man’s throat. Idegwaed hummed as she slid against stubble.

Xander felt alive with an intense spark. His muscles rippled with renewed power. He savored having this man’s life in his hands. He would never again be subject to anyone.

“Submit or die,” Xander murmured.

The Tywysog swallowed. “Either way I am a dead man. I pity those who bend to tyran—”

Blood spilled. The Tywysog gurgled and crumpled to the floor.

Xander cleaned his blade on the Tywysog’s clothing. As he did so, he noticed small chinks along Idegwaed’s edge that had not been there prior. He sheathed her carefully and turned to the fearful guards in the room. “You there. Cowards.” He crossed to them swiftly and took them by their collars. “You’re mine now. Inform your comrades. We ride at dawn. Those who refuse will be hunted and killed for the dogs that they are.”

The guards nodded in unison.

Aowyn had not seen Xander in three weeks. After her vision of the blood dawn, she feared for Xander’s life. Maeb could do little to comfort her nightmares. Aowyn only wept in to Maeb’s shoulder and begged her to tell her where to find Sylas Mortas. Perhaps if she could talk to him, he would tell her where Xander was and why this sudden, dire madness. Yet no one would give her the answers she sought, and with each passing day she felt as though a piece of her died inside. Even the baby kicked less.

Xander wove his way through the Twelve Kingdoms, increasing his army with the fall of each hold. A third of the kingdoms were at his disposal after only a month. In the battle at Three Ogre Fief, his army doubled. With the demise of each hold’s ruler, however, Idegwaed’s chinks became more abundant. Little imperfections had grown into teeth. She was saw-like and even more fearsome to behold. With every battle, Xander grew more powerful. Yet he felt bits of him vanishing, not unlike his precious falchion. It wasn’t immediate. It was little things. The more he noticed them, the harder he fought and tried to hide them. Trying to convince his army, who only fought beside him for fear of him, that they were undefeatable. The harder he fought, the more noticeable such weaknesses became. He started feeling hollow. When they took the sixth kingdom, his men sensed something was amiss. No one could put their finger on it, but it put the warriors off, and men went missing from the ranks.

***

Aowyn clutched her belly and winced.

“Aowyn…
”

She cursed the gods when they called on her now. Pain. So much pain.