Raven's Hand (10 page)

“You are the girl I have come for,” he said,
his voice deep but level. His tone was commanding. I knew already
that this assassin had not been refused often and never more than
once.

I found myself nodding involuntarily, my eyes
still locked with his. A slight grin tugged at the corners of his
mouth, his face barely visible beneath the wide brim of his black
hat. Sandra’s eyes fastened on me, her bottom lip quivering. She
may have been as terrified right now as I was.

“I will eat one meal here,” he said. “When I
have finished, you will be ready to depart this place.”

I continued nodding dumbly at him. His words
registered on some level, but it was not with my conscious mind.
“Yes, my lord,” I answered. However, my voice felt like that of
another person; out of my control.

I noticed Hannah standing just behind me. “Of
course, my lord,” she said. “Cook will prepare you our finest.
Sandra, escort our distinguished guest to a room at once where he
may refresh himself after his journey.”

Sandra snapped to attention instantly,
shutting the door behind Kane. As she passed before him again, she
addressed him in a trembling but respectful voice. “If you’ll
follow me, sir?”

He turned his gaze finally from mine and
followed Sandra toward the dining room. As I exhaled heavily, I
realized I had been holding my breath the entire time. Hannah was
still behind me, drawing near as I turned to her.

“Be sure you’re ready before Kane finishes
his meal,” she said sternly.

I began to protest, but Hannah’s hand came up
to silence me. “We’ll have none of that,” she said. “I’ve already
lost favor with Mistress Evelyn once, and we lost Celia—all because
of your stubbornness.”

My mouth closed tight. The matter with Celia
still stung like an open wound. However, Hannah was not one to be
trifled with. She knew all that had happened. I really was to
blame.

I lowered my eyes in shame and nodded my
agreement. “I will be ready,” I managed in a submissive tone.

I stalked away down the main hall, leaving my
matron behind to ponder the quickest way to appease our guest
without anyone in the abbey getting killed. The other girls
appeared from their rooms, staring at me as I marched past them,
heading toward my own room. They did not say what was on their
minds.

Everyone knew that Evelyn’s rider would come
to escort me to Rainier. It had only been a matter of time. Only a
week ago, Celia had left the abbey for the capital city, riding
with an armored caravan and Mistress Evelyn herself. Now, she was
dead. The girls I was leaving behind were no doubt wondering what
fate would befall me upon the road to Rainier, escorted by only a
single bodyguard.

I opened the door to my room and walked
inside. I was too paralyzed by fear to bother with thought
transmission. Instead, I simply closed the door manually. That
alone testified to my state of mind. If only my Killian had been
real. If only he could have saved me from the terrible fate that
awaited me in Rainier with Evelyn and her son, Prince Nathan.

I looked around the room, attempting to think
of anything I must have on my journey, anything from my life at the
abbey that I could not do without. Nothing came to mind. After all
these years, I had nothing worth saving from my time here.

My gaze wandered to the fire burning in the
grate. In those flames I became lost, hypnotized by the dancing red
and yellow colors. I saw Killian’s face there. I longed to walk
into the heat of the fire and embrace him, find comfort in him;
even escape with him. How could a dream seem so real?

By the time I tore my gaze from the blaze
heating my quarters, tears were rolling down my cheeks. This was
the only home I had ever known. It hadn’t been much of a home, but
I had had Celia for a time. With her gone, there was nothing
precious to leave behind. I packed a few clothes in a satchel;
something light and easy to carry on horseback.

I spent what seemed like only minutes
collecting myself and my meager belongings, escaping my fantasy
with Killian. However, when I returned to the foyer, Kane was
already waiting for me; his black hat still seated upon his head.
He turned toward the main door of the abbey, while Hannah and the
girls looked on. Sandra was not by the door to open it, but it
opened anyway.

Kane’s eyes fixed upon me, and I saw that
same spectral light emerge once again. Something was inside this
man’s mortal body, something that was far more powerful than
anything I had experienced before. The same fear and foreboding as
before came over me.

Kane gestured toward the open door. Beyond,
storm winds blew and the dark clouds had only grown more ominous in
their appearance. There was no rain; at least not yet.

“After you, my lady,” he said icily.

He was toying with me, like a cat with a
mouse that it’s not quite ready to devour. I swallowed hard and
nodded, turning toward the door. I didn’t look back at Hannah or
the girls. I preferred to remember each of them in other settings
and situations. I would be terrified by my time with Kane. I didn’t
need their terror-stricken faces added to the mixture of thoughts
already swirling in my mind.

I walked toward the storm brewing outside.
Twilight awaited me at midday. The winds whipped my dark hair
around my face. I passed over the threshold and felt Kane’s
presence—or at least the presence of whatever indwelt him—very near
behind me. My eyes closed as the door shut behind us.

His black stallion waited upon the drive
ahead. No one attended the animal. I sighed heavily. My life at the
abbey had come to an end. Prince Nathan and a life enslaved to his
wishes as his bond awaited me in Rainier; providing I actually made
it to the palace alive. As I took steps toward the road and the
midnight black animal before me, with Kane at my back, I almost
wished for the likes of Judah and his Cindermen to find us in the
way and put me out of my coming misery.

When Killian finally revived, he was no
longer at the temple within the Brine Wood. Shalindra was not
present; only Esmeralda beneath him. Her gate was steady and
plodding. She did not speak openly as she had at the temple. Yet,
Killian could feel her emotional emanations like sweat from her
skin.

He raised his head, troubled by what he
sensed from her equine mind. She seemed to be a blank slate at the
moment. Other than her dogged determination to take them back into
the capital city of Rainier, he could find no other thoughts.

“Esmeralda?” he said.

Almost instantly, she stopped upon the road.
Thoughts, emotions, ideas and fears began to generate in her mind;
almost as if a switch had been thrown. Her mind was returning to
her quickly now. One of her first realizations was confusion. How
did she get here? Was that Killian speaking to her? What had
happened to the temple, the Brine Wood, and the priestess,
Shalindra?

“I’m here, Esmeralda. It’s me,” he said.

How did we get here?
was the question
on her mind. She could no longer voice the questions in a human
tongue—not outside the near vicinity of Eliam’s temple in the Brine
Wood. She gave off some frustration over the loss of the ability.
In her mind, it was only a moment ago that she was experiencing the
freedom of communication that came with dwelling near the
priestess.

“I only woke a moment ago,” Killian
explained. “I thought you might be able to tell me what happened,
but I guess that isn’t the case.”

Esmeralda shook her head.

“I suppose Shalindra has set us upon the road
again,” he surmised. “We must be meant to head back to the city
then.”

Killian turned round, searching for the sword
his father had sent with him. It was nowhere to be found. Esmeralda
turned her head to help him and stopped quickly. She snorted at
him, drawing his attention.

“What is it?” he said, placing a hand upon
her neck to aid in communication.

Her thought directed him to look over his
shoulder. Killian did so and found an unexpected surprise. The
sword and scabbard were strapped onto his back.

He sat for a moment, wondering why Shalindra
might have sent him away with the sword this way. What was going
on? He shouldn’t be wearing the sword. This weapon was meant for
Prince Nathan in Rainier, not the son of a bladesmith.

The charge made to him by Shalindra and the
oath he made in order to receive Eliam’s blessing came to mind. It
had been then that everything happened. Even now, thinking about
the experience made him feel light-headed.

“Oh no, Esmeralda,” Killian groaned, shutting
his eyes in frustration. “What have I done?”

The horse made a non-committal noise.

“This sword belongs to the prince, and I’ve
taken an oath before Eliam to use it to fight against the Malkind
and their followers! I must be out of my mind. Father is going to
kill me!”

Esmeralda snorted out her displeasure.

“Easy for you to say,” Killian complained.
“You’re not the one who has to explain taking an oath and receiving
a blessing with our future king’s sword!”

Esmeralda nickered in reply, shaking her
head.

“It’s not one bit funny,” Killian said,
scolding her. “What am I going to do?”

Esmeralda did nothing in reply at first, then
he sensed something she wanted him to remember; something about the
blessing of Eliam upon the other weapons his father had brought to
Shalindra in times past.

Killian considered her response. Then he
remembered the process. Something was required in order to complete
any weapon with Eliam’s blessing. “That could be it!” he shouted.
“The blood is required! I could just do nothing. I’ll take the
sword back like nothing out of the ordinary happened—a blessing was
given after all—and when the prince takes possession of the blade,
no one will be the wiser. His blood will be added during the
bonding ceremony. When he takes his bond and the weapon, they will
draw his blood upon the blade and bind it to him as well.”

Esmeralda shook her head in a frustrated
manner and began to walk them down the road toward the city.

“It will work,” Killian said, partly to her
and partly to convince himself. “It has to work.”

Night had nearly fallen by the time Killian
and Esmeralda returned to the city. They barely made it through the
gate before all traffic entering the wall was stopped for the
evening. His mark of patronage helped him to squeeze through
despite many others offering money who never made it past the
Eastern Gate.

His family’s standing was honored anywhere in
the kingdom. The guards knew better than to dishonor someone of
higher rank in the social order. A position guarding one of the
city gates might not have been glamorous, but it was better than
having to dwell outside the wall in the Mud Districts with the rest
of the Third Order Commoners.

Killian and Esmeralda made a bee line for the
Mangy Cur Inn. With night falling and a weary journey only half
remembered behind them, they both were much in need of sustenance
and rest. Yeager’s inn appeared to be quiet tonight which seemed a
bit odd. Still, things were not always hopping, so he dismissed the
lack of revelry and made his way back to the stables. Esmeralda was
only too eager to be handed over to the stable boys. They lined her
a stall with fresh straw and placed a feed bag on her muzzle with a
generous helping of oats to sate her grumbling belly.

Killian bid her goodnight, taking the sword
with him still strapped to his back in the finely crafted scabbard
he had fashioned for the prince. He drew the hood of his cloak back
as he made his way into the inn, opening the door to find only half
the number of patrons he might have expected. Those faces he
recognized, seemed on edge. Even Yeager’s drink couldn’t cheer them
up this evening.

Then Killian noticed a group of men seated
near the back of the room at tables drawn near to one another.
These men had the look of soldiers, but the dress of commoners.
They bore weapons on their persons and leaned nearby against the
wall and beside their chairs. They were the only ones laughing
inside the inn.

“Mercenaries,” Killian whispered to
himself.

He had seen mercenaries before. Everyone had
seen them. They didn’t exactly hide what they were when they
entered a city, town or establishment. In fact, they were more
likely to broadcast their occupation in order to illicit the kind
of fear they feed on. People who were afraid tended to be more
compliant with their wishes. Those who weren’t, became examples to
the others after a beating or two.

Killian looked around the room once more.
Fear was evident upon every face. They avoided eye contact, keeping
their heads down so as not to draw attention to themselves.

He watched Yeager at the bar. He looked
nervous, and he was staring at Killian. Killian walked over to the
bar, saying nothing, but listening to the noisy group of
mercenaries as they carried on about another round of drinks.

Wendy emerged from the kitchen on that side
of the room. Cheers went up from the mercenaries’ tables. Killian
watched as hands attempted to grope the barmaid as she passed.
Wendy was used to such advances from patrons and she normally
handled it with the kind of saucy attitude that curbed unwanted
advances, but these men are different. They didn’t take
no
for an answer.

Killian gritted his teeth in anger. As soon
as Wendy left the drinks on the table, two of the mercenaries took
her by the arms to pull her back toward them. Killian saw the fear
in her eyes as her gaze landed upon his face. That was all he could
take. Wendy was a friend, and he was not going to allow her to be
treated this way.