The Treason Blade (Battle for Alsaar Book 1) (28 page)

“We know
that,” Lysandr spoke, coming from the shadows and crouching. “Your presence at
the holding will go a long way to relieving tensions that may rise at your
absence, but Varyk will have to deal with that in the best manner he sees fit
without our presence.” He glanced over the room. “Gavin and Glyndwr can stay in
the saddle but Ber, Traevyn, and you will not be able to ride soon, I fear.”

“Send Kagon
or Rayne,” she murmured.

“And if those
were not all of the Tourna waiting for you? There could be some farther up in the
mountains.” Lysandr shook his head. “It would leave the rest of us even more
defenseless and besides, what makes you think your father would believe either
of their word if I did send them?”

He had a
point, she realized. Without her standing before him to prove their words true
her father would assume the worst. Ishar eyed Lysandr with worry.
“Fenric.
He was not with the Tourna on the beach,” she
began.

Lysandr
nodded. “We saw him go down the path before the Tourna. He must have continued
onward.”

“To go to my
father,” she added in frustration. “Fenric will poison his ears and turn him
against Varyk. When he arrives at the holding, he will hear nothing Varyk has
to offer if I am not there to dissuade Fenric’s persuasive tongue.”

Lysandr and
Rayne frowned. Davaris’ look grew even more solemn. Lysandr shook his head. “I
understand your words but for now we will rest and see what the morning
brings.” He nodded. “Get some sleep. We will need all the respite we can get
before this ordeal is through.” He stood and made his way outside. Rayne
followed.

Ishar felt
the warmth of the fire seep into the blanket covering her body. She glanced at
Davaris. “How badly is Traevyn hurt?” she asked in a hushed tone.

Davaris stuck
a stick into the fire and stirred the ashes. “He took an arrow high in his back
near his right shoulder. I removed it, but already he burns with fever.
Hopefully it will not worsen.
The same for Ber.”
His
cast a slight smile her way. “If their fevers do not worsen during the night,
Lysandr will be hard pressed to stop them from riding on the morrow.” His smile
faded. “If their fevers do not worsen,” he repeated softly to himself. Davaris
brushed his hand across her forehead. “Get some rest. Like Lysandr said, let us
see what the morning brings.”

Ishar watched
as Davaris stood and moved away. She heard his and the others movement around
the cavern. Even with her worries, sleep came swiftly.

The scent of meat roasting roused her and Ishar
opened her eyes. She took a deep breath and, pushing the blanket aside, rose
gingerly with a wince and leniency toward her left side. Her shoulder injury
pulsed in tune to the pounding in her head but she ignored the painful
throbbing and eventually made her way to her feet. A wave of dizziness hit her
and she focused on the fire and took a deep breath. Her vision cleared. Ishar
glanced around, her movements slow.

Traevyn
rested on the ground across from the fire. His eyes were closed. “I wondered
when you would wake,” he mumbled softly, “We will ride soon.”

Ishar made
her way over and gently eased herself down. She brushed her hand across his
face. “You feel far too warm to ride,” she argued.

He opened his
eyes and threw her a look of irritation. “And what of you?” he muttered.

She looked
around instead of answering. There was a touch of truth to his words. Ber sat
up his back against the cave wall. There was pain in his eyes as he looked at
her and gave an abrupt nod. Glyndwr sat next to Gavin. He was tending to the
other man’s wounded shoulder. Ishar could see where his own leg was bandaged
with torn strips of cloth. She heard movement and turned toward the mouth of
the cave. Davaris and Kagon entered, followed by Lysandr. Kagon knelt by the
fire and tested the meat. He looked up at her and gave a small grunt. It
appeared to be the only form of acknowledgment she would gain. Davaris helped
Kagon set the meat off and divide it.

Seeing her awake, Lysandr made his way over.
“We will eat,
then
ride.”

Ishar glanced
at Traevyn and looked pointedly at Lysandr. “I thought you were not certain
whether you would travel this morning?”

“The men have
made the decision for me it appears,” he grumbled.

Lysandr did not appear to be happy with the answer he
gave. Neither was she, but Ishar held her tongue. A part of her wanted to
desperately be on the trail, headed for the holding to prevent whatever
disaster Fenric had planned. So she only nodded and waited beside Traevyn.
Davaris set food before them. He looked anxious but managed a slight smile in
her direction.
He is worried about the
others
, she thought. Ishar wolfed down her portion of meat. It was the
first food she had eaten in a day and her body craved the nourishment. Traevyn
barely touched his. She packed up what was left. Maybe she could encourage him
to take of it during the day’s ride. The group ate quickly, packed their gear,
then mounted and moved slowly down from the rocky terrain back toward gradual
grassy slopes of green.

*

Varyk studied
the encampment settled before his walls. Their brightly lit fires were spotted
throughout the camp. Additional fires ranged around the village of Wërn. The
clanging sound of steel ringing in the night signaled to him that Ryen of the
Haaldyn was growing thin on patience and readying for war. Would he wait for
the morning light? Would he really seek vengeance with the villagers’ lives?
Varyk sighed and pushed away from the wall. He motioned toward Jusa. The Britai
came forward. “Bring word to me if there is a change of any kind,” Varyk
ordered. Jusa nodded solemnly. Varyk turned and made his way down the stone
steps and across the outer courtyard, through the inner gate and into the
fortress. Several minutes later, he cautiously opened the door to the room he
shared with Eira and quietly slipped within.

“I do not
sleep,” she grumbled, propped up in bed as she stared at him with narrowed
eyes. “You do not have to sneak around like a field rat.”

Varyk stopped
and raised a brow at her annoyance. “You are supposed to be at rest. Perhaps if
you were, you would be more agreeable when I chance to stop by and see to your
welfare.”

Eira slapped
the flat of the bed. “You will find me much more agreeable when I am allowed to
move around,” she cried, eyes flashing.

“You have
just been seriously injured,” he cautioned. “I would not have you bleed to
death walking over the halls of this fortress.”

“I do not
still bleed,” she said icily. My wounds heal quite nicely and if you want to
relieve a little of my irritation, you could inform me of what has happened
while I am forced to languish away like some frail child.” She ended her rant
with a huff and crossed her arms defiantly.

Varyk’s lips
twitched. The twitch formed into a smile and he chuckled. He held up his hand
as Eira’s eyes widened into rage. “Forgive me. It is just good to hear you
sound so formidable,” he said.

“I am glad my
ill will finds you so agreeable,” she said crossly. Her eyes softened and she
pleaded. “Please, my love. What has happened? All I know is a hush has dropped
across the halls of this place as if people fear something.”

Varyk closed
the door. “Ryen arrived early this morning,” he stated abruptly. “He
immediately sent a herald with a simple message. It read, ‘Send my daughter to
me at once. I wish to hear word of the peace spoken between the two of you from
her lips’.”

Eira lay back
and looked thoughtful. “He knows something is amiss.” She glanced at Varyk,
puzzled. “How is that possible?”

He stepped
over to the end of the bed. “I do not know,” he said doubtfully, “I am at a
loss. I sent the herald back with a note from myself that welcomed Ryen and
asked for a meeting between only the two of us outside the walls on open ground
before both of our people.” Varyk tightened his jaw.

Eira frowned.
“I take it from your expression he was not taken with your response?”

“The herald
returned with a quick reply. Ryen refused the meeting. He has informed me that
if I step outside that holding without his daughter beside me that he will kill
me on sight. Furthermore he has decreed if she is not returned to him by
morning, he will assume his daughter lives no more and will destroy the village
as retribution before laying siege to us.”

Eira eyes
widened. “Has he so many soldiers that he does not fear the men within these
walls?” she asked curiously.

Varyk sighed
and sat on the edge of the bed. “He has come with a fair number of soldiers as
part of his entourage, all of whom I am certain are battle-hardened men and
women who have fought for years. What do we have? Newly trained Britai soldiers
with no battle experience and I am without my warriors who would be able to
keep them in formation and fight without crumbling.” He stood and ran his hands
through his hair. “The siege is no great threat. The Haaldyn cannot easily
break these walls with their small numbers and they came prepared with no large
tools of war. We are safe within the
holding,
especially since the Lute are due to arrive very soon.” Varyk’s face grew
somber. “But I feel a truth in Ryen’s words. If he feels he has lost his
daughter, he may very well destroy the village and I cannot allow that.” He
turned away. “I have already ordered Jusa to prepare the men. If Ryen tries to
destroy the village I will have no choice but to engage him. It must be done
with care. Once the gates are open, it will leave the holding weak.”

“Varyk, no,”
Eira cried with desperation. She slid the covers aside and would have risen had
he not moved quickly and halted her by sitting on the edge of the bed. Eira’s
gaze was one of desolation as she gripped his hands. “If this happens, it
cannot be turned back. This will end any chance of peace. Even if Ishar returns
alive, the harm of this battle might very well drive a wedge between us and the
Haaldyn for lifetimes to come, even more if the Lute arrive and are forced to
choose sides. It will threaten the peace that now stands. It might very well
destroy it.”

Varyk leaned
over and kissed her hands. “I know.” He glanced up. “I have thought of scenario
after scenario that I might try and I can think of only one other way to deal
with this other then direct confrontation.”

A shiver ran
through Eira as she realized his intent. The look in her eyes became one of
horror. “No,” she spoke abruptly, her fingers wrapped tight within the sleeve
of his shirt. “Do not do this,” she pleaded.

Varyk
frowned. “Even if there was a chance it might ease this conflict?” he asked
gently. “If I am able to speak to Ryen man to man, without him having to judge
his words by how it makes him appear before his people, I might be able to
convince him to at least give us another day or two before outright violence
occurs.”

“He has said
he will kill you,” she hissed. “I will not chance that those words are spoken
as a bluff.” Eira shook her head. “You must not go.”

He looked
down with a weary glance. “Do you trust me?” he asked quietly, drawing light
circles on her hands. “Do you trust me, the man you pledged to spend your life
with?” Varyk turned his eyes to her dark brooding ones. “I will not have the blood
of the people in that village on my hands. The only way to stop that is for me
to go to Ryen and hope he will allow me a chance of explanation.”

“And if he
kills you?” she whispered hoarsely.

“My hope is that
he will give us this time. I do not care if he demands I remain confined among
them until she returns, but if Ishar does not return and is dead, maybe I will
balance out the deaths and the peace will continue. I ask only this of you: if
I do die, you will continue this peace to the end that it was meant to go, you
will guide this holding and these people and my men toward a preparation of
meeting the Tourna, and most importantly, you will not seek revenge.”

She jerked
her hands from him. “You cannot ask this of me,” Eira spoke rigidly. “The Lute
in me will want revenge.”

Varyk gave a
deep sigh. “I pledged myself to a woman who looked beyond who she was as a
member of her people and bound herself to a man of a people who no longer
exist. I have seen the end the Tourna will bring to us through the destruction
of my own land, my own people.” He stared intently into her somber dark eyes.
“You speak of this peace, of the desperation you have felt to see it through to
the end,” he said firmly. “Do not fulfill the desire of these people who would
have it fail. If I fall, promise me you will continue to seek it with the same
passion you have shown everything else you love in life.” Varyk cupped her
face. “Do this small thing for me.”

“Small,” Eira
choked out. She leaned into his hand. Tears ran across his knuckles. “I cannot
even think of your death, much less what I would do beyond that.” Eira closed
her eyes for a moment then picked up her head. She gave him a grave look. “But
I promise,” she said halting, “to seek everything I do with wisdom and
forethought.” Her shoulders drooped. “It is all I can swear to at this time.”

Varyk bent
over, brought her face up and kissed her. “That is all I can ask.”

He turned to
go but Eira reached out a hand and stopped him, her fingers wrapped around his
wrist in a snug grip. When Varyk glanced back she smiled softly, attempting to
hide her sadness and failing. “Stay for a while longer. It is a small thing
that I ask?” she said, gripping his arm tight.

His jaw
tightened. A myriad of expressions ran across his face. Varyk’s smile was faint
but real. “A little longer,” he spoke softly. He slid out of his leather
overguard, threw it down beside the bed and lay down gently next to her.

*

The moon was
nearly halfway to its crest when Varyk emerged. Clouds moved into the area and
a rumble of thunder could be heard in the distance. He glanced appreciatively
at the change in weather and made his way to Jusa, “Any movement?” he asked.

Jusa shook
his head.
“None toward the inside of the village.
They
stay along the fringes to make certain no one leaves.” He looked up and sighed
as the sound of thunder grew. Jusa turned his attention back to Varyk. “The
villagers must be nearly frightened out of their minds.”

Varyk nodded.
“I know.” He hesitated and bent close to the Britai soldier. “Jusa, what I am
about to tell you is for your ears only. No one else will know, save Eira. You
understand?” The Britai man frowned but nodded. Varyk continued. “I am leaving
the holding shortly through the tunnel. I intend to sneak into Ryen’s camp and
seek him out personally. I have to speak with him before innocent blood is shed
by the light of the morning.”

Jusa’s face
paled. He looked around,
then
moved even closer to
Varyk. “My lord, I beg of you to let me go,” he whispered in supplication. “If
Ryen seeks to harm you, I wish to be at your side to defend your life no matter
what comes. I owe you this for all you have done for my people and this
holding.”

Varyk placed
his hand on Jusa’s arm. He shook his head. “I need you here with Eira if
anything goes wrong,” he calmly answered. “She will need your help in guiding
and training these men and others to face the Tourna. Eira will need you to
help hold this peace firm, no matter what happens. I have her pledge on this.”
Varyk’s face grew firm. “I want yours.”

Jusa looked
torn, between his sworn duty to obey his lord and his innermost desire to stand
beside Varyk during this trial. His face fell but he nodded. “I pledge this to
you,” he whispered gravely.

Varyk gripped
the Britai’s shoulder. “Keep soldiers posted and change the guard at more
frequent intervals. Fresh eyes will notice subtle changes in the dark,
especially with the storm that approaches. I intend to use its fury to slip
amongst Ryen’s soldiers. Ryen, however, might have a similar desire to move
within the elements of the storm. Any change is to be reported to Eira
immediately.” Varyk stepped close as he whispered, “No one must know that I am
gone.” He stepped back and his golden eyes fixed Jusa with a firm stony
fierceness.