Duty: a novel of Rhynan (7 page)

Nudging Irvaine’s shoulder with mine to catch his
attention, I nodded toward Kuylan. “Keep him talking.”

He nodded. “Did we outnumber them?”

“Barely. We maintained the upper hand until Brevand
marched out of the village. He held Quaren’s wife before him with a
knife against her throat and ordered we retreat.” He coughed again.
“My lady, not so hard.” He lifted his hand to move mine away.

Irvaine intercepted the movement. “She is preventing
you from bleeding out. Focus on your tale. I need to know every
detail. How did Quaren take the threat to his wife?”

“Poorly, sir. We retreated though he gave no order
and rode after you. He didn’t wish to leave her with the traitor.
Those cowards sped us on our way with a volley of arrows. I gained
this dragging at Quaren’s reins.” He waved weakly toward my
hands.

The thunder of approaching horses brought all of our
attention to the trail toward Kyrenton. Irvaine stood to greet
them. Five men burst upon us.

The foremost rider, a thin young man with wild yellow
hair, dismounted before his steed stopped. His feet hit the ground
at a run as he clutched a satchel to his side. “Where is he?”

“Here.” Irvaine pointed to me and strode on to meet
Antano and the other men who accompanied the healer.

The healer wasted no time assessing the situation.
“Arrow to the gut,” he muttered as he lifted away my hands and
ruined tunic. “You are a fool, Kuy. That ride might have been your
last.” He glanced at me. “My lady, if I might?”

I pivoted back onto my heels to give him room.
Surveying my blood stained hands in dismay, I tried to ignore the
panic constricting my chest. Loren, Taltana, and the rest of my
village were at the mercy of a lawless robber baron, my cousin, and
Brevand, not to mention their army. I closed my eyes against the
images, but they pressed all the harder.

A hand closed on my shoulder. “Come, let me clean you
up.” Irvaine helped me to my feet.

Sudden exhaustion pulled at my bones. The wild
emotional ride of the past few days pressed against my temples. I
wanted to do nothing more than find a warm quiet place and sleep.
Perhaps if I slept long enough, the world would right itself
again.

I closed my eyes as Irvaine doused my hands in water
and rubbed them briskly with a rough cotton cloth. When he
finished, the skin remained red, but no longer from blood.

“We will go and rescue them.” I searched his face. I
needed hope.

“I won’t abandon them.” He met my gaze. “But we won’t
return yet. We are closely matched in number. The baron will send
for reinforcements from across the river. We must do likewise.”

“From Kyrenton?”

“And possibly beyond. It depends upon what we
find.”

But Loren….
I forced myself to breathe. Images
of her resisting Orwin’s caress turned my stomach. I remembered
well the leer in his gaze last time he passed through the village.
Kurios, please protect her. Protect them all.

A gentle touch to my cheek brought my thoughts back
to the present. Irvaine lifted my chin so I gazed up into his dark
eyes. I couldn’t tell if they were black or brown. Even in the
bright light of the midday sun, I couldn’t be certain of their
color, only of the sorrow in them.

“If I had the slightest chance of victory, I would
leave now to challenge Orwin and his allies. I will do everything
in my power to reclaim Wisenvale and its women.”

“Before….” I couldn’t put it into words. To do so
would make it reality.

“I can’t promise that.” Pain etched creases about his
eyes.

Though my heart screamed at the injustice of it all,
I held my tongue.

“Come, we need to move forward.”

I followed him numbly to our horses.

Hours later after nightfall, we made camp. No one
settled down for sleep, though. A watchful restlessness roiled
beneath the calm activities of the men. Irvaine moved among the
soldiers, speaking quietly with the healer, consulting with Antano,
and arguing with Jarvin.

Dinner was comprised of roasted rabbit and waybread.
Jarvin’s seasoning did a great deal to make the stringy meat and
stale loaf palatable. I ate alone. Irvaine didn’t join me until I
was picking the last of the meat from the bones.

“Morale is poor.” He set his wooden bowl full of meat
and waybread on the cloak before lowering himself down next to me.
“I don’t know whether to be encouraged that the men took to their
wives so quickly or discouraged that I can’t improve the situation
more than I have.”

“We reach Kyrenton tomorrow,” I reminded him.

“Aye. Should Kurios will it, we will find provision
enough to turn and reclaim what was taken.” He moved his food about
without eating. “Until then, we wait.” He dropped his bowl and
rubbed his forehead. “I am not hungry. I think I shall bed down.”
He rose to his feet and offered me a hand up. “We both need our
rest.”

We settled in under the tent. For the first time I
was thankful for his presence at my back. His body heat kept the
growing cold from overwhelming me.

~~~~~

The defeated appeared at dawn as we gathered up our
gear for the day’s travel. They arrived in a cloud of dust white
with sleepy sunlight. The healer plowed into the fray seeking
wounded.

The leader rode straight to Irvaine. Not bothering to
dismount, he inclined his head. “My lord, Quaren has deserted.”

“What?”

“After sending Kuylan ahead, he ordered us to find
you. He took only a water skin and three day’s rations. Last we saw
him, he was moving south.”

“Wise man,” Irvaine muttered. “He intends to
intercept the supply caravan. Someone needed to do it. I wouldn’t
have chosen Quaren to accomplish it, but he most likely needs a
task to occupy his mind.”

“My lord?”

“Nothing of consequence, Ryon. You have been granted
a temporary promotion until Quaren returns. Go see to your
men.”

Ryon bit down on a protest and saluted with two
fingers to his left brow. He then prodded his horse back to his
company.

Irvaine resumed his interrupted task, lifting me onto
my horse.

“You don’t consider Quaren’s action desertion, do
you?”

“Going up.” He hoisted me up into the saddle.

I settled myself. He handed me the reins.

Once mounted himself, he guided his horse to my
side.

“No, Brielle, I don’t consider Quaren a deserter. He
saw to it that his men were safe. Once accomplishing his duty, he
turned his energy to his more important duty of protecting his
daughter and our resources. We don’t want our rations and loved
ones riding straight into the enemy’s waiting arms. I hope he
reaches them in time.” The distant focus of his gaze planted a
revelation in my mind.

“You have someone in that caravan too.” My tone
accused more than I intended. His back tightened and his shoulders
came up. He didn’t meet my gaze.

The horn signaling for us to move on tore through the
tension. In the following cacophony of shouts and horses’ hooves,
snorts, and whinnies, I almost didn’t hear his response.

“My son.”

My world shifted.

“I will answer your questions.” He studied my face.
Wariness tightened his shoulders as though he expected me to be
angry.

I was, but not a large measure. Despite my disquiet,
my brain proceeded to process everything. It made sense for him to
not tell me of his son at first. Still so much about him remained a
mystery to be discovered. I still felt awkward about the idea of
being his wife. Motherhood carried a whole new set of
responsibilities. The most pressing thought, though, was for the
woman who gave him the child. “What was she like?”

“My wife?” His focus shifted inward. “She was
vibrant.”

I noted the lack of emotion in his voice. My relief
at the boy’s legitimate origins quickly transitioned into shame. I
was a fool to think Irvaine immoral enough to produce otherwise. If
there was one thing I had learned about my husband, he valued the
marriage bed.

“How old is the boy?”

“Five summers. She succumbed to fever shortly after
giving him life.” His features aged at the memory.

That made the boy a year older than Loren’s
step-daughter. Just placing his age in relation to her made him
more tangible. Tempted to visualize him, I resisted. Regardless of
how I viewed his father, I wanted to see him for himself. Others
always judged me by my connections. I was the former lord’s
daughter, Orwin’s cousin, the remnant of a great family left among
the ashes of once vibrant traditions and power. Now I was Lord
Irvaine’s wife…a mother. Simply the word made my heart swell in
anticipation and fear.
Let me guide with wisdom as my mother
before me.

“What is his name?”

“I named him Darnay, after my maternal grandfather.”
He didn’t meet my gaze, watching the men as they moved about us.
“We must send word to the king about the invasion.” He urged his
mount forward to speak with Ryon.

I kept myself apart. Heart heavy with fears and
questions, I traveled in silence.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Kyrenton spread beyond its own walls. I eyed the rise
of stone above with a twinge of envy. Cottages speckled the
landscape about the town, but few looked large enough to house more
than a small family. Hills spread with fallow and harvested fields
spread out from the town to the forest’s edge.

As we approached the walls, the gates lumbered
opened. Irvaine lifted his left hand. Two of his men rode forward
and unfurled a banner between them, a golden hart leaping on a
field of green. The cloth snapped and flapped between their fisted
hands, but the emblem remained clear.

A single man strode out from the gate. The green and
golden cloth of his tunic and the badge on his chest of the same
leaping hart declared his allegiance. His thin, gray hair whipped
in the wind. He approached on foot, scanning our front lines for a
sign of his new master. His gaze fell on me, the only female, and
then flicked between Irvaine and Antano flanking me. Irvaine wore
the same plain armor as the day he arrived at Wisenvale. With no
way to identify his new master, the man weighed his options.

“My Lord Irvaine?” He bowed tentatively in my
direction.

I glanced at Irvaine.

“Who wishes to know?” Antano asked.

“My lord.” The man bowed deeply to Antano. “I am
Horacian, steward of Kyrenton.”

Irvaine kneed his horse forward a step. “I am Tomas
Dyrease, Earl of Irvaine.”

Horacian paled at his mistake.

“This is my wife, Brielle Solarius of Wisenvale.”

Horacian bowed hesitatingly to me. I could see his
mind working as he processed my identity. Whatever he thought of my
origin, family, or village, he kept it from his features.

“Welcome to Kyrenton, my lord. If you would follow
me, we will make you welcome.” Shoulders squared and head held
high, he led us through the gate and into the town.

I clamped my jaw closed, but I couldn’t control the
rising anxiety in my gut. A cobbled street wound between
picturesque houses complete with freshly whitewashed faces and
straight rows of shingles on their roofs. Each structure stood in
sharp contrast to Wisenvale’s thatched cottages of worn stone. Only
the interiors of our buildings were whitewashed and not often.

When we rounded the last turn and passed into the
shadow of the vargar’s keep, I wanted to cry in despair. With thick
stone walls and heavy wooden gates, the fortress offered protection
and security to its new master. Add in the visibly well-maintained
town and Irvaine would be a fool to return to Wisenvale after the
crisis passed.

Where he lived, I must live.

The portcullis bared its teeth at me as we passed
beneath it.
Kurios, I want my home. My people.

A party of servants waited on the staircase into the
keep and my heart sank further. Even the lowliest of the servants
wore clothing richer than any I had ever owned.
Simplicity,
Kurios, I long for simplicity where we are all equals sharing in
the burdens of survival.

“My lord, may I make known to you my daughter,
Rolendis Briaren. She is the widow of Kolbent Briaren, late Earl of
Irvaine.”

Irvaine tensed at the man’s name.

A young woman stepped forward to take her father’s
extended hand. She curtsied deeply, dropping her head so a cascade
of brunette curls fell about her face. The longest loops grazed the
neckline of her low cut gown and the bosom beneath. She lifted
doe-shaped eyes of golden brown and my heart froze in fear. Offset
in a gown of rich blue, her skin glowed with health. The flutter of
her thick eyelashes as she smiled winningly up at my husband made
my palm itch to smack her.

Startled at the strength of my reaction, I turned my
face away before she could look my way. I needed to give her a
chance. Appearances could be deceiving.

“You must be mistaken.” Irvaine’s brows drew
together. “She is too young for Kolbent. Surely you mean she is the
widow of one of his sons.”

“Nay, my lord,” she answered. “I was Kolbent’s wife.
Welcome to my…your new home.”

Irvaine studied her features. She smiled at him,
returning his examination from beneath lowered lashes.

My stomach turned over. My inadequacies grew ugly in
the splendor of those perfect features.

The steward laid a hand on his daughter’s arm. “If
you would come this way, my lord, Sirs Jorndar, Rathenridge, and
Landry have gathered to swear allegiance.”

Irvaine caught my arm the moment I gained my feet. My
gratitude for his steadying touch dissolved into concern when I met
his gaze.

“Do not allow them to separate us.”

“What do you suspect, my lord?”

He held my cheek for a moment. His rough leather
gloves hurt my cold skin. Emotion flared behind his mask. Fear?