Raven's Hand (11 page)

“Hey!” Killian called out, silencing cheers
from the mercenaries as they realized someone had challenged
them.

Killian stepped out around the bar into plain
view. The two mercenaries holding Wendy’s arms did not relent.
Killian’s hand flew to the pommel of the sword upon his back.

Yeager appeared around the bar, stepping
between Killian and the mercenaries, his hand pressing Killian’s
chest to stop him. Wendy’s father turned his attention on the
mercenaries. “Let her go!” he demanded. “That’s my daughter. If you
can’t behave yourselves, I’ll summon the constables. I’m a
well-respected businessman. They’ll put you out of the city on my
say-so.”

Killian watched as the mercenaries ranged
through several emotions before finally turning Wendy free of their
grip. “Scrawny girl isn’t worth spoiling our good time,” one of
them said.

This man commanded their attention and the
others listened. Killian wondered if he might be the leader of this
band of rogues. His hair was a bit neater than the others. His eye
patch also set him apart and the knife blade that stood in place of
his left hand.

Wendy was set loose and immediately made her
way to Killian’s side. She looked pleased that he had come to her
rescue. Her father continued to stare, until the leader forced his
men to stand down.

“Your business is appreciated, gentlemen,”
Yeager offered. “That round is on the house. We don’t want any
trouble here.”

None of the mercenaries spoke, but their
angry glares said it all for them. They weren’t happy. Killian
couldn’t care less about their happiness. He released the pommel of
the blessed sword on his back, only realizing now what weapon he
was about to use on these men.

His hand recoiled then. Surely, he hadn’t
been about to use Prince Nathan’s blade. He had better be more
careful with his future king’s sword and his own temper.

Yeager and Killian and Wendy returned to the
front of the bar, Yeager making his way all the way around to stand
at his usual post. Wendy kissed Killian on the cheek, smiling
brightly at him. She didn’t care that her father was watching.
Everyone knew she had taken a fancy to Killian anyway.

“You deserve more than that, but it will have
to wait until later,” Wendy whispered to Killian.

He grinned. “That will do,” he said. “I
wouldn’t take advantage of your hospitality so unfairly.”

“I wouldn’t mind,” she pouted and then
trailed away into the kitchen. “I’ll bring you something to
eat.”

“Your usual room?” Yeager asked.

Killian nodded. “Can you have Wendy bring the
food up, when it’s ready?”

Yeager cocked an eyebrow in his
direction.

Killian started at the look. “Never mind,” he
said, “I’ll just wait on it and take it up myself.”

Yeager nodded and went back to drying freshly
washed glasses on the bar top. Killian sighed. He didn’t want to
upset Yeager over his daughter’s virtue, or lead Wendy on. Despite
her advances, he really did only consider her a friend. He didn’t
want her to get any more ideas about their relationship than she
already had. The ones she had already were enough.

The mercenary group toned down their
conversation. The leader’s lone eye remained fixed upon Killian. He
watched the man cautiously from the bar, until Wendy appeared with
a tray of bread, cheese and sliced beef and a pitcher of wine with
a tankard on the side.

All of it was the finest the Mangy Cur had to
offer—Killian was quite sure. Wendy never left him with second
best. Killian smiled, acknowledging in his own mind that having
Wendy’s affection wasn’t all bad. She really was a sweet girl, just
not the one for him.

He took his tray in hand, leaving Yeager with
a nod and Wendy with a pleased smile. She touched his arm, her doe
eyes fixed upon his face. It was not the flirtatious look she
usually reserved for him.

“Thank you, Killian,” she said quietly.

He grinned and bowed his head slightly in
deference. “My pleasure, my lady,” he said. “Anything for such a
friend as you.”

She nodded solemnly. Evidently, her
experience with the mercenaries had shaken her a bit more than she
had let on a moment ago. He couldn’t blame her. Mercenaries were
not the kind of men that people usually stood up to, even inside
the city walls. Most would have simply allowed a girl like Wendy to
be abused by them, or worse, without ever saying a word to stop
them.

“On my tab?” Killian asked.

“It’s on the house,” Yeager said without
looking up from the tankard he was drying with a cloth.

Killian paused to consider. Yeager wasn’t the
kind to give away his services easily.

The bar keeper glanced up. “Call it a
hero
discount.”

Killian nodded and turned for the stair. He
caught a glance at the mercenary leader again. The man was still
staring at him, while the others caroused and reveled in their
stories and their wine. However, the leader’s one eye never left
him, even as he turned his back to the man and made his way up to
the same room where he always stayed when visiting the Mangy
Cur.

We had ridden for hours into the night, the
wind howling around us as Kane pushed his black stallion to the
breaking point of any normal animal. Still, his steed went on
faithfully. Foam gathered at the beast’s mouth, but it would not
stop; not until he allowed.

I did not know the hour, though it couldn’t
be near dawn yet. By the moon’s position in the night sky, I
surmised that it must be a few hours past midnight. I wanted to
stop, but I didn’t dare to ask. Kane’s hard body sat like a rock
wall behind me in the saddle. He might have been thin-framed, but
he possessed a seemingly limitless strength. I could only guess how
much of this was due to the spirit dwelling within him.

My bladder, though empty when we left the
abbey, was almost to the point of bursting now. I had tried to hang
on to my composure, imagining what dreadful consequence might
befall me for interrupting Kane’s relentless pace toward Rainier
and his queen. However, all of the constant jostling and bouncing
had taken its toll, and I could no longer contain my need.

“We must stop!” I cried out.

Kane did not reply. I heard only the
slightest hint of a noncommittal grunt from behind my left ear. He
meant to ignore me, I was sure. That simply would not do.

“I must be allowed to relieve myself! I
cannot go any further!”

Kane reluctantly pulled back some on the
reins. The stallion began to slow its pace substantially, until we
were moving only at a canter and then a walk. He pulled back again,
and the horse came up short upon the road.

Our dusty wake, finally able to catch up, now
billowed around us, creating a choking cloud. I did my best not to
cough. Kane didn’t react to it at all.

I didn’t like having to speak so
indelicately; especially in front of a man, but I had been left
with little choice in the matter. Besides, I was fairly certain
that proper etiquette wasn’t high on the list of a man like Kane.
He was a trained killer; a man of blood. What difference could it
make to him?

I waited a moment and felt Kane’s sigh on my
neck. “Well?” he asked impatiently.

I took this as permission to dismount and
began to move my right leg over to my left side, using the left
stirrup as an anchor to keep from both falling and kicking Kane
across the chin in the ungraceful process of extricating myself
from the saddle. He did me the courtesy of at least supporting my
arm as I worked my way down. I’m quite certain this was only to
keep from having to answer to Mistress Evelyn for any injuries I
might incur, should I fall.

Once on the ground, I immediately had a sense
of freedom, though Kane was staring down at me from the stallion.
The horse, too, had its dark eyes upon me, letting me know that
running wasn’t an option. Though Kane didn’t say so, I had the
feeling that he might relish the chase and find ways to punish me
that Evelyn would never know about.

I pushed the urge to flee from my mind and
wearily made my way to a nearby tree just off the road where I
could at least somewhat privately relieve myself. My legs were
terribly sore from our journey so far. I was unaccustomed to the
saddle, the pace, and my unpleasant company. Still, there was
nothing to be done about it. I was quite sure Evelyn would rather
see me delivered worn but safely alive than pampered and dead on
the side of the road at the hands of Judah’s Cindermen.

Kane remained in the saddle, at least until I
had finished my business behind the tree. When I emerged again,
straightening my coat over the breeches I had worn for riding, I
found the assassin seated next to a bundle of branches. I had no
idea how this setup came to be. Only a moment ago, he was still in
the saddle, confidently peering down upon my makeshift privy.

The assassin stared at me. The other light
brightened in his eyes; the measure of the spirit dwelling in the
man. Almost immediately, the bundle of branches next to him burst
into flame.

My eyes darted toward the small explosion of
fire and then back to Kane. A wicked grin crossed his face. I could
feel the spirit staring out of him. I wanted to ask how he had done
this, but I felt that I already had my answer. I was afraid to hear
him say it; afraid to hear that one of the Malkind was there inside
his body. I believed they existed, had always believed it, but to
be faced with a physical manifestation was entirely different.

“Sit down and take your rest for now,” Kane
said in a raspy baritone voice.

I felt the urge to obey his command; not out
of fear exactly, but by some press upon my will. I could only
assume that this must be from the mysterious spirit’s influence. I
did not attempt to resist. There was no use starting a conflict
over such a simple demand as sitting down.

Truth be told, I would have liked nothing
better than to have a good rest. We had drank water already along
the way and had eaten bits of food from Kane’s saddlebags, but rest
from the journey was one thing he had not afforded me all evening.
I sat down gratefully, wincing slightly as my sore posterior met
the ground.

I thought, perhaps, that I might possess
power and will enough to resist this spirit. I could have possibly
fought for my life, if it became necessary, but what would that
gain me now? Where would I have gone? To live in the wilderness as
some wild woman? Back to the abbey only to have Evelyn send her
servants for me once again?

The Queen was desperate for a bond for her
son and heir to the throne. Without me, House Rainier stood in
terrible straits with the other great houses bearing down upon
their necks. She had to have me safely bonded to Prince Nathan, or
give up the throne and the right to rule.

I couldn’t do anything about this now.
Fighting would have been futile. I would have gained nothing. Truth
be told, I also believed that I deserved this fate. My fighting
against the system, so to speak, was exactly what had cost my dear
friend her life.

Kane produced no food, or drink, only the
fire to keep us warm in this small clearing next to the road. He
shut his eyes and lowered his head, hiding his face beneath the
wide brim of his hat. I sighed, but this produced no response.
Defeated and tired, I also closed my eyes.

I woke to a different place than where Kane
and I had stopped to rest. I was standing outside of what appeared
to be some sort of tavern or inn. The hour was late—the same hour
as when I closed my eyes, according to the position of the stars
and moon. There didn’t appear to be anyone out on the streets.

The sign above the door of the establishment
directly before me read, The Mangy Cur. I had never been to this
place before, but I did notice the massive wall of the city beyond.
Could this have been the capital city of House Rainier that I was
seeing?

As with earlier visions, I saw myself as I
was, yet in an incorporeal form that was invisible to others. There
were real people here, not merely dreams. I was not even that much
to them.

I felt the urge to go into this place, yet I
knew for certain that there was danger ahead. Still, I had to go in
order to understand why I was here at all. There was always a
purpose to the visions—to show me something that I needed to know.
Dreams were completely different for me. I was not in the real
world in dreams, as I was now. They were chaotic and distorted.
This was real, even if it was some place other than where my body
rested near Kane.

I walked toward the door. Horses could be
heard in the stalls behind the tavern, making me think it must also
be an inn. I did not open the door, but passed through the wall
like a specter. I had already had the experience of trying to touch
objects in this form. My insubstantial essence had no effect on my
surroundings in the real world.

I was immediately drawn to an unfolding scene
inside. The hour being late, there were no patrons in the taproom.
The person I saw might have been the proprietor, or simply the
barkeep. He was on his knees, pleading quietly with another man
wearing an eye patch. Eye Patch happened to be holding a young
woman on her knees before him. He held a knife to her throat. No, I
was wrong about that. The knife was his hand.

A barmaid perhaps? I had no way of knowing
until the man’s pleading gave me the clue. She was his daughter. He
didn’t want her to die. He was willing to do anything to prevent it
happening.

A band of rogues, clustered around them,
laughed quietly, as though they had no desire to wake the patrons
who were sleeping peacefully upstairs. All of the men had weapons
on their persons ready for use at the slightest hint of
provocation. But there was only the man and his daughter here
now.