Epic Of Palins 01 - Dagger Star (3 page)

“We’re from Soccia.” Red held out her mug for more. “Not much work for two mercenaries in a land fat with peace.”

Josiah’s face darkened. “There’s no peace here.”

Red nodded, never noticing his dark look as she dug into her second helping. “Should be able to find work, then.”

Bethral stifled a sigh. There were times….

They continued eating in silence. Bethral sensed that Josiah had something on his mind, but she didn’t really feel like encouraging him to talk. The warmth and the food made her sleepy, and all she cared was that there was a bed beneath her. They’d sleep warm, dry, and safe, and she was grateful.

Finally, after they’d scraped the pot empty, Red set down her mug and sighed. “Any more and I will burst. My thanks, Josiah.”

“Mine as well,” Bethral added.

Josiah gathered the dishes into his bundle. “I’ll leave you to sleep, then. There’s blankets in the trunk, and you’ve enough wood.” He stood and cleared his throat. “I’d ask…were you wounded?

I saw a mark under your breast and—”

Bethral mentally rolled her eyes. The goatherder wasn’t being very subtle. But then she caught Red’s eyes shifting slightly, and knew full well her sword-sister was up to something…

RED Gloves considered the man before her, then reached for the bottom of her tunic. “Twelve, no.” She stood and slowly pulled the material up, watching as his eyes followed the cloth edge.

She lifted it to just below her breasts, making sure that a bit of curve was revealed. “A birthmark, nothing more.”

The poor man stood staring, as if poleaxed.

She studied him through half-closed eyes. Oh, he was interested, which pleased her. There was desire there, that was certain. Something else as well…how long had he been alone? Not healthy to repress a body that way.

Well, he was about to get his itch well and truly scratched. Red lowered her tunic, making sure her dagger handle was free, but she didn’t bother tucking her tunic into her trous.

Josiah seemed to come back to himself. He opened his mouth as if to talk, but Red made a point of stretching, and yawned until her jaw cracked. No sense letting the man talk, after all.

Josiah hesitated, then spoke. “You’re welcome to stay as long as you like. Your horses look in need of some rest. I can provide breakfast, but my supplies will not stretch far.”

“We have some beans that need cooking,” Bethral lifted the sack.

“Let me have them, and I will set them to soak,” Josiah offered.

“Gladly.” Bethral smiled, handed him the beans. “Good-night, Josiah. Our thanks again for the shelter and the food.”

Red gestured toward the door. “I’ll walk with you, Josiah, and check the horses.” She tried not to sound too smug.

Josiah gave her a questioning look, but headed for the door. Red followed, and pulled the door firmly closed behind them. She caught a brief glimpse of her sword-sister as the door closed.

Bethral was rolling her eyes as they left.

Red smirked at her. Some men just needed to have the obvious made plain, that was all.

She turned and followed Josiah down the aisle of the barn as the big man blew out the lanterns in the aisle, leaving only the light from the one he carried. The light caught the glints of silver in Josiah’s dark curls. One minute she thought his hair black; the next, a dark brown. She wondered whether it curled around his—

They paused by the horses, and Josiah raised the lantern, showing that the beasts were well and fast asleep. He turned toward her, and looked down into her eyes. “I can leave this with you, if you need—”

Red reached out and caught a handful of his tunic in her gloved hand. Slowly, deliberately, she pulled him closer. There was a puzzled look in those pained eyes, as if uncertain as to her intent.

She smiled slightly as she captured his mouth.

He tasted salty. Or was it sweet? There was a subtle spice to the warmth of his lips.

She felt him move away, and so pressed him back against the stable wall, using the entire length of her body. His body was taut, tense, but she concentrated on the kiss. He opened his mouth under hers, probably in protest, but she just explored further.

A thrill swept through her when she felt him relax into the kiss. His heat was delicious, and she hungered. Even through the layers of clothing, she felt his body respond to her.

Her free hand moved up to thread her gloved fingers through his hair. She shifted her weight slightly, and raised her leg up along his, eager for more. Releasing her grip on his tunic, she stroked down to fumble at the waist of his trous. Josiah groaned into her mouth as she searched for—

Strong hands on her waist lifted her, and set her way from him with a thud.

Five goats’ heads emerged between the slats of a stall, blinking at them in the light.

Red stood, gasping, staring at the man who looked flustered and grim. “I am not fit, Lady.”

Her eyes went down to his crotch. He’d seemed—

“Not fit for a relationship,” Josiah said.

“Who said anything about a relationship?”

BETHRAL raised an eyebrow when Red stalked back into the birthing room and closed the door with a slam. Red’s trysts were usually a little longer than—

She got a good look at Red’s face and decided not to ask what had happened.

“Watches?” Bethral asked.

Red’s anger faded as quick as it had come. She took a deep breath and shook her head. “Not sure it’s necessary.” She shrugged ruefully. “Not sure I could stay awake.”

Bethral gave a short nod, then dragged the heavy blanket trunk in front of the door. “That should give us some warning.”

Red had her weapons on the floor within reach. She checked the fire, then crawled between her blankets. “I doubt a small army bursting through would wake me. I am that tired.”

Bethral grunted her agreement, arranged her weapons, and crawled into her bunk. A simple straw mattress, but it felt like the finest down. The blankets warmed quickly, and she felt her muscles finally ease. They’d traveled hard and been lost in that mire for so long, she wasn’t even sure of the days. “That’s the last time I follow you into a bog, Red.”

The only answer was a soft snore.

Bethral closed her eyes, and let sleep enfold her.

JOSIAH ducked his head as he entered his hut, pushed the door closed, and drew a deep breath.

The room hadn’t changed. Just big enough for his needs, with a table, chair, and bed. The herbs he had drying in the rafters stirred in the cold air he’d let in the door.

The largest thing in the room was the old stone hearth. The fire he set there didn’t come close to filling it, but it was enough to warm the small hut.

Josiah sighed, and set his burden down on the table.

It couldn’t be true, of course. They were mercenaries, women warriors out of Soccia. But there it was, below her right breast, the dagger-star birthmark. Clear as day and sharp as a blade.

She’d kissed him.

A tingle passed over his skin at the memory. She’d pressed up against him, and he could still feel her body, her warmth, her mouth. Five years it has been, five long years, since he’d held a woman.

No, that wasn’t right. He’d never held a woman like her in his arms. No shy reluctance, no hesitation. Just a warm and very willing woman in his arms, making it very clear what she wanted. She was no lady of the court, full of deceit and treachery, hiding her plans behind words of love.

He looked at the bundle in his hands without really seeing it. It wasn’t a dream. He’d eaten with them; the dishes in the bundle were proof they were real.

That and the fact that his pot was empty.

He set about washing the dishes, and took care of the few chores that needed doing. But his hands moved on their own, with no real help from him. His mind was too filled with the possibilities.

His groin stirred, and Josiah drew a deep breath, trying to suppress that urge. No, he needed to concentrate on the other possibility.

Red Gloves bore the birthmark of the Chosen of Palins.

His fire banked and the beans set to soak, Josiah stripped down and crawled beneath the wool blankets of his bed. He lay there, breathing, as the bed warmed around him. He stared up at the thatch of the roof, lost in thought.

After all this time, after all the pain, could this be? Could revenge be that close?

He lay there for a long time as the fire died to coals, his heart filled with a strange mix of hope and fear. In the morning, he’d make some breakfast and talk to the women. Try to learn more, try to explain—

A soft bleat broke through his thoughts.

Josiah’s gaze shifted to focus on the small white goat by the bed. She danced closer, and butted her head against his shoulder.

“Did I wake you, Snowdrop?” Josiah asked softly. He reached out and scratched her between the ears. She leaned into the scratch. The four others bleated softly, coming from the shadows. The two largest settled down by his bed, tucking themselves close. The little white one stamped her foot as the other small ones leapt up on his bed.

“All right, all right.” Josiah shifted to lie on his side as the goats tucked themselves in along his legs and back. The small white one was quick to claim the spot in front of his chest.

Surrounded by the familiar warmth of their bodies, Josiah yawned and curled his arm around the white one. He closed his eyes with a sigh.

In the morning, he’d talk to them. Learn and explain….

In the morning, he’d…

In the morning…

DAWN found Red in need of the necessary.

She grumbled, and left the shelter of the blankets slowly, trying to leave the heat within, for she had every intention of crawling back into them. The fire had died down—only a few coals remained. She took the time to add some tinder. She’d add more wood when she got back.

She grabbed her dagger and went to the door. What Bethral had moved with ease the night before took her a minute more to move from the door. Red cursed slightly as she swung the door open. She walked down the aisle of the barn, pleased to see the horses sleeping in their stalls.

The morning light let her see the goats in the far pen—five, from the look of things. She liked goat, if it was well cooked. She yawned, and opened the smaller door to go outside. The darkness outside was thick, silent, and cool. The rain had stopped, and it looked to be a clear sky above.

She grunted as she spotted the small house and made her way to it.

It was when she emerged, with the sun just a hint of pink to the east, that she finally got a good look at her surroundings. She paused, her bare feet on the wet grass, and looked about in shock.

The barn, it was big. Very big, and….

Red stood in the light of a silent dawn, really looking as the light spread to reveal the barn, the bricks that bore the marks of weapons and the scorches of fire. From the blackened walls, it was amazing the thing still stood solid.

Stunned, she looked further, at the fields around her, at the skeletons of burnt trees reaching for the sky, at ruined foundations where buildings once stood.

It wasn’t a farm. It was a battlefield.

BETHRAL glared at Red, less than pleased. She’d been pulled from a warm bed to view the land about by a very excited Red. Bethral wasn’t at her best in the mornings.

At least, not before kavage.

“What do you think? The damage, it’s maybe two, maybe three years old, eh?” Red was looking around, her arms folded over her chest. She’d dragged Bethral out to stand by the well.

“Farmland, from the looks of it. I saw a few foundation stones and some straggling crops growing about. Mostly scrub plants, though. What looks to be the remains of a vineyard, there across the fields. How the barn survived, I don’t….”

Bethral grunted again, as Red ran on. Not much for chatter, her sword-sister, unless it was battle or the aftermath. Bethral sighed, and left Red standing there as she stomped up the path to the necessary.

“…destruction on a grand scale. The trees, stumps of burnt fences. It had to be magical fire, from the scorch marks. Did you see—”

Bethral emerged from the necessary and headed back into the barn. She’d seen all she wished to see. She was more worried about the horses.

“And that hut where he is, it’s just wattle and daub, but the chimney is stone. You suppose he built it up against some ruins?” Red followed, still speculating, as Bethral went into Steel’s stall.

Bethral was careful to let Steel know she was there, as he was still sleeping when she entered.

She spoke softly, and stroked his flank gently before tapping his knee. Without really stirring, Steel lifted his hoof for her inspection.

It needed picking out, what with the mud and all. Not to mention the wet and dirty leather of the tack. Bethral sighed, and dropped the leg. Steel shifted a bit in the straw, but then fell to drowsing again. Poor tired animal. She knew how he felt.

“Beast’s fine.” Red spoke again, from Beast’s stall. “They need a full day of rest is all.” She didn’t sound upset by the idea.

“And brushed down.” Bethral patted Steel on the shoulder, and made her way to the door of the stall. “Could be worse.”

“Could be blood,” Red agreed.

“I noticed something else,” Bethral added.

Red looked over at her with a question in her eyes.

“Listen,” Bethral said. “What do you hear?”

Red closed her eyes and held her breath. Bethral stilled, and wasn’t disappointed. Red’s eye popped open in astonishment. “Nothing.” She peered around the barn, then looked up in the rafters high overhead.

Bethral nodded. “Not a bird to be heard, nor the rustle of a mouse in the straw. Not so much as a barn cat.”

Red’s hand moved to her dagger hilt, her eyes narrowing.

Bethral shook her head. “I don’t think there’s a threat here, Red.”

“Blackened fields, sparse growth, the ruins of fences.” Red relaxed, but still looked interested.

“Why live in that hut? Why not in the barn?”

“Why so curious about a goatherder?” Bethral asked. “What happened to ‘Don’t get involved unless you get paid’?”

“There’s something about his eyes.” There was something slightly defensive about Red’s tone, and Bethral gave her an intent look.