WayFarer (17 page)

Before she reached it, the door swung open. Benisch peered in at her. His face had changed, shed its concealing mask and now twisted to reveal the darkness within his heart. She shrank from the sight. “Wh—what do you want?”

Benisch gave a smile both evil and congenial. “I’ve come to help you, Aewen.” He sounded as if he reasoned with a rebellious child.

Horror crept over her. She swallowed rising panic. “I—I thank you, but I don’t require your help, Benisch. In fact, I expect Elcon any time now. He will be most unhappy to find you here.”

Benisch looked troubled, but then his face cleared. He stepped closer. “I know you lie,
Elder
. With Freaer’s armies camped but a few days’ march away, Elcon engages in preparations for battle. And don’t think your servant draws near. She’s tucked in a place none will ever find her. I’ve come to help you leave Torindan. Remember that you want to prevent this war.”

“I can’t go. My labor nears, but even if I left, nothing would change now. It’s too late.”

Benisch gave a pleasant smile. “You are wrong. When you are no longer here everything will change. Elcon thinks he rules Faeraven, but he’s wrong. I control Torindan and tell him what to say and do.” He paused and took on the blank look she’d seen before. “Except I couldn’t control his involvement with you. We used it to our advantage though, Freaer and I, to turn more Kindren against Elcon. And it served to alienate the Elder better than the wingabeast raids we carried out. But your presenting Elcon with an heir will never do. You and your unborn child must go.”

She stared at Benisch, aghast, as her heart raced. She put a protective hand over her belly just as her child gave a mighty kick. Benisch could only mean to kill her and the child within her womb. What if she had gone with him before? Her remains might already be torn by forest creatures and scattered across the countryside.

She tried to scream but no sound came. She turned to flee. Benisch caught her wrist and twisted her arm behind her. His free hand encircled her neck. He spoke near her ear, so close it brought her pain. “If you struggle I will break your neck here and now. Understood?”

She gave a constricted nod, and he pulled her into a backward stumble. She didn’t see what he did, but heard a grating. A blast of dank air hit her. He swung her to face an opening in the wall. A blow to her back sent her into gaping darkness. She struck damp stone and lay on her side, gasping for breath. The hidden door scraped, shutting her into darkness.

****

Elcon pushed a hand through his hair as he paced before the hearth in his outer chamber. They had searched everywhere. He could not credit that Aewen would leave him, as Benisch seemed to think. No. Something foul had happened. Light edged the window hangings. Dawn neared. With sudden passion he struck the paneling.
“Think!”

Craelin, at the strongwood table next to Kai, groaned. “We’ve looked everywhere.”

Elcon willed himself to patience. “We must have missed something.”

Craelin lowered his hands. “Should we—” He sent an anxious gaze toward Elcon. “Should we dredge the moat?”

“There’s no time. Freaer’s armies approach. Besides, she won’t have fallen in. A person would have to climb over the battlements to land in the moat.”
Or be pushed.
At the thought fear inched down his spine. Craelin shoved to his feet. “We’ll search again, but we must turn our thoughts to war or perish.”

A thudding came at the door, and Kai wrenched it open. Eathnor burst into the room, his chest heaving. “Lof Shraen, I heard—Benisch—the wingabeasts—”

Craelin slung an arm across Eathnor’s shoulders. “Stop and breathe, so you may sooner give your news.”

“The Lof Raelein—Benisch—”

A growing dread settled over Elcon. “Why do you speak of Benisch? Tell me at once, Eathnor. Kai, shut the door!”

Eathnor bent with hands on knees, gulping air. At last he stood.

“Tell me.” Elcon kept his voice calm.

Eathnor’s pale eyes glittered in the lamplight. “As I watched the stables from the loft, I heard voices but only saw in outline one Kindren among the wingabeasts. I crept closer and found the steward Benisch grooming one of the blacks. He seemed not quite…right.” He shook his head at the memory. “He spoke in a high-pitched voice and then answered himself in his usual tones, as if engaged in conversation. The hair stood on my arms, for he addressed his own womanish voice as Aewen and warned her not to complain of the cold and dark in the passage. That’s when I realized—I realized—”

Elcon’s calm deserted him. “Go on!”

“Benisch may have taken the Lof Raelein and hidden her in one of the passages beneath Torindan.”

As the full import of Eathnor’s words drove into him Elcon closed his eyes. The idea of Aewen trapped underground, wounded and terrified, perhaps giving birth alone ignited a terrible fire inside him. He fisted his hands and forced himself to concentrate. Taking time to indulge his fury would not save Aewen.

“Where’s Benisch?” Craelin asked.

A smug expression crossed Eathnor’s face. “He’s under restraint in the east guardroom.”

Craelin gave a curt nod. “That’s well, then. The guardians can begin a search of the passageways beneath Torindan’s motte while Eathnor and I have a talk with Benisch.”

Elcon would have liked to have a conversation with Benisch, but he turned instead to Kai. “Hurry. Time presses.”

****

Aewen rolled onto her side with a whimper. Why had she made a hard stone floor her bed? Shivers wracked her body, and she curled into a ball—
so cold
. She must tell Murial to bring more blankets. She jerked her eyes open. “Murial?” Her voice, thin and frail, spun away into darkness.

A wave of horror rushed over her. Tears gathered. She wept not only for herself, but also for the child who would perish without knowing the warmth of a mother’s arms. She wept for Elcon, who might never know what had happened. She spared tears, also, for Murial, who could even now have perished.
She’s safely tucked away in a place none will ever find her.
The memory of Benisch’s voice made her shudder.

She pushed to her feet and again searched the rock wall for some sort of device that might open the hidden door. Her hands found nothing but stone. She’d lost the way out. Darkness pressed past her eyes and into her mind. Her chest rose and fell as she panted. Steadying herself against the wall, she forced in deep draughts of moist air. If she did not take care, the child might come in this wretched place.

Perhaps the passage only opened from the Lof Raelein’s chambers, anyway. That made sense for an escape tunnel built for time of war. A tiny light flickered in her mind. The passageway might lead to freedom, if she could traverse it in the dark. She might yet save herself. That thought brought her comfort and stiffened her spine. She was, after all, a daughter of the kings of Wester. She would not surrender to death without a fight.

Standing away from the wall, she slid a foot forward. With her arms stretched before her, she took the next step and tested her footing. She advanced by slow measures until her foot found nothing, and then swayed backward. She’d thought to find a stairway leading down through Torindan’s motte to an opening below. She lowered to her knees and patted the stone floor where it dropped away. Her hand found a flat surface below the edge. Could it be a stair tread?

She hesitated. What if she encountered flesh-eating rodents? Or wraiths? If she took a wrong turn, she could wander paths of darkness until the light of life snuffed from her. Or she might come to another door with a hidden mechanism she failed to find.

She could not allow fearful thoughts to rule her. Lowering herself with care, she blew out a tense breath. Her bare feet found another tread below. The stairs seemed endless but came at last to a landing where every small sound echoed. She rolled onto her back and folded her arms against the cold. Sleepiness dogged her, and a feeling of warmth she knew as false. She stirred, for to give in to sleep might mean she’d never wake again. She positioned herself to follow the stairway downward again, although her knees and toes ached. With painstaking care she lowered herself to the next step, and then the next. As time wore on, she lost count.

She took a weary step forward, but her feet found only air. She knelt upon the tread. A jagged edge of broken stone met her searching fingers. Rocks scattered and plunged to crash a long way down. She shivered. Perhaps with a lanthorn she might navigate, but she had no light. She pulled herself back up the stair to the landing, breathing in small bursts. An exhausted tremor went through her, and she lay still, too weary even for tears.

Metal grated and a light fell from above. Fear drove her to hands and knees. Did Benisch return to make sure of her death? She raised a hand to shield her eyes from the light which, although feeble, stabbed into them.

“Here! I’ve found her!”

Footfalls echoed. Arms cradled her. She thought she heard Elcon’s voice.
“Aewen!”
She blinked and Elcon’s form swam into view. She tried to say his name, but her voice was gone. Instead, she feasted her eyes upon his face, a face she’d never thought to see again.

They carried her to bed, wrapped her in blankets, and placed warming bricks around her. Servants bathed her cheeks and forehead with cloths wrung in warm water and gave her steaming cider to drink. Praectal Daelic peered at her with grave interest. She managed to speak Murial’s name, but Daelic seemed not to understand her. She concentrated, trying to understand his words, but his speech seemed gibberish. She slept and woke and slept more. When she roused at last, a chamber maid with gentle hands propped her in bed. Outside the windows, rain clouds scuttled across a gray sky and pale light washed the eastern horizon. It must be morning.

“Tell me your name.” Aewen addressed the servant in a voice that croaked.

The maid smiled and curtsied. “I am Sylder, Lof Raelein.”

“Well, Sylder, I am worried about Murial, my maid. Can you tell me anything of her?”

“And what would be you wanting to know?” Murial’s familiar voice carried from her outer chamber.

She turned her head. Murial’s familiar figure stood in the doorway. Aewen smiled as tears gathered. “Are you well?”

Murial drew near to clasp her hand, her wrinkled face wreathed in smiles. “That’s a question I might ask of you.”

“But you were…did not Benisch—”

Murial waved a hand. “He pushed me into some sort of passageway in the dark but I groped about until I found a lever that opened the door again. It took some time because it was well hidden, but it seemed a better idea than casting about in pitch black tunnels with no light. Benisch must not have believed I’d discover it, or I might not now draw breath.”

As memory returned her to the dark place of despair she’d just escaped, Aewen frowned. “I’d like to know how you did it. I couldn’t find any lever to open the door he pushed me through, although I tried and tried.” An image of Benisch smiling his genial smile as he shut her away intruded, and she shuddered.

Murial
tskd
, and a gentle hand touched her brow. “Stop getting yourself in a state. It won’t do you nor the babe any good. Benisch can’t harm you now.”

“What happened to him?”

Murial settled in a chair beside the bed. “He saved his own life by telling where he put you, but he’ll not trouble you again.”

“They banished him?”

She shook her head. “Where could they send him? He’s here still, in the dungeon.”

“How horrible.”

Murial glinted a look at her. “He deserved worse. You could have died, and it’s a wonder the ordeal didn’t bring your babe into this world early.” She shook her head as if disagreeing with someone. “There, now. Let’s put the whole thing behind us.” Murial hummed a familiar melody. Weary once more, Aewen rested her head on her pillow and allowed Murial’s melody to carry her back to childhood.

By the time Aewen pulled again into wakefulness, the fledgling sun had strengthened. She started and sat up. Murial, snoring gently, slept in a chair beside the bed. Aewen’s lips curved in a smile, and tears stood in her eyes.

“Well then, wife, do I find you asleep at midday?” Elcon, far more rumpled than she’d ever seen him, smiled at her from the doorway.

Murial snorted and stirred, and Aewen put a finger to her lips before holding her arms out for her husband. He went into them with a groan, holding her so tightly she begged him to let her breathe. Standing back from her, he kept hold of her hand. “I thought I’d lost you.”

She smiled at him. “I’m with you still, Elcon, by Lof Yuel’s will, if not that of the steward Benisch.”

Elcon’s jaw firmed, his eyes as turbulent as a stormy sea. “Pray do not bear that name again upon your lips.”

Aewen shuddered at the thought of Benisch’s fate.

Elcon sat on the edge of the bed. “I blame myself. In my uncertainty and because of our kinship, I allowed Benisch sway. Had I listened to my instincts about him, I might have prevented what happened.”

“Hindsight is always clearest, but Elcon, you must not reproach yourself for the actions of a madman.”

He straightened and drew back. “I wish I could stay, but we prepare for war.” He took a breath. “Rest well this day, my love. Tomorrow will mean a journey.”

“Please don’t send me away from you.”

“I will protect my own. Freaer’s armies camp only a breath away, but there is still time for your escape. Kai prepares now to accompany you and Murial to Westerland, back to Cobbleford, where you may bear our child without threat.”

“I’m not certain of my reception there.”

“Surely your parents would not turn you away at such a time.”

Her mother’s pinched face the last time they’d spoken came forcefully to mind. “I hope you are right.”

“If nothing else, stay at the White Feather Inn until I send for you.”

“They may not receive me.”

“Aewen, I will not have you face armies here with me.”

She blinked, for he’d delivered his decision in a voice that brooked no argument.