Baroness of Blood

THREE

The physical pain in Dark's eyes and hands was bearable only because he had no choice but to bear it. The consequences of what had been done to him gave far greater agony.

Blind, mute, scarred; unable to fight or work or even to take care of himself, he would serve as a reminder to all who once knew him that it was futile to challenge Baron Janosk Obour. Worse, he would live out his days as an object of pity to his wife and boys, as well as his village.

If he ever reached it. Since he had left the Obour camp, he had been hearing the cries of the forest cats. At first their screeches had been distant. Now they seemed to be growing closer. The cats were large, but cowardly. They would not attack a grown man in daylight. Had he been whole, he would have simply traveled on until nightfall, then made for the rocky ground and found a cave or fissure in which to sleep. Knowing any attempt to leave the road would undoubtedly result in his being lost, he sat with his back to a tree and waited, thinking that whatever pain the cats inflicted with their teeth and claws would be nothing compared to what he'd already been through.

And they would spare him a useless future.

As he waited for the end to come, he sensed another sound, the faint footsteps of someone steal-ing closer, trying to get a look at him without being seen. Soldiers would not bother with such stealth. It had to be one of his own spies moving toward Baron Janosk's camp.

Hope, that refuge of the vanquished, rose in him once more, and he gave a low cry, the first cry he made without means to speak. It sounded scarcely human.

"Dark?" someone whispered.

The voice was so soft, so low he could not tell if the person was young or old, male or female. He turned in the direction of the voice. Cried out again, louder.

Another whisper. "Is it safe?"

Dark nodded and heard the sound of someone shuffling closer in the darkness, kneeling beside him, and whispering, "Dark! Dark, what has Baron Janosk done…?" There must have been a moon lighting his face because the voice trailed off and the arms holding him began to shake. Did he really look so terrible?

"Dark, I'm so sorry. I saw you captured and stole into the camp to learn where you were held, but I had no time to warn the others. I saw the soldiers crowd around the pyre. I heard you scream and thought they'd burned you as well." Apparently realizing he could not recognize a voice from the low whisper, his rescuer said, "I'm Chardin. Renze's daughter."

Though it had been some time since he'd seen her, he remembered her well enough. She'd been a tiny girl with bright brown eyes and a tongue just shy of impertinence, a child no older than Baron Janosk's bloodthirsty brat. Now she was fighting alongside her father, and Renze, always protective, let her. How desperate they'd all become.

"I stayed in camp and listened to the baron plotting," she went on. "They plan to invade Sundell."

Dark bowed his head. Baron Janosk would use the wealth of Sundell to buy his people's loyalty. The move made sense. Dark had been captured while trying to cross the border in hopes of convincing Baron Peto of Sundell to assist them. It most likely would have been a futile gesture, for Peto's neutrality was well established.

His neutrality was far less likely now.

"I have water… I stole a little of the soldiers' food…" Chardin paused after each statement, waiting for a response. "We have a small camp in a hill cave a few miles from here. Father is there with some of the others. Can you walk?" she finally asked.

He nodded again and let Chardin help him to his feet. The terrain they traveled was far from level. Though Chardin was attentive, Dark stumbled often, falling once and instinctively catching himself with his burned hands. He managed to stifle a cry, but it was some time before he could find the strength to go on.

By the time they neared the remote camp, Dark's legs were barely able to hold him. Chardin called to the others to come help. Dark felt the heat of someone's torch, arms lifting him, carrying him to the fire. There they made him a bed from a soft pile of pine boughs and hides, and wrapped him in a blanket.

They had no healer, but one of the rebels had some ointment that he rubbed on Dark's burned hands and eyes, and a potion that he made Dark swallow. It alleviated the pain somewhat, and gave him strength.

Through pantomime, nods, and shakes of the head, the camp learned the fate of the other men.

"We'll never recover from these losses," Renze said despondently. "The rebellion is over."

Dark shook his head, motioning Chardin to tell what she'd learned.

"Are you certain?" Renze asked.

Both Dark and Chardin nodded. "I heard the baron himself speak of it," Chardin added.

"I'll cross the border and warn them," Renze said.

Dark shook his head, pointed to himself, then leaned forward, hands extended and groping the air, implying that if caught he might be dismissed as having simply lost his way in the forest.

"I understand," Renze said. "But you'll never make it alone."

Dark pointed toward Renze, then held his hand closer to the ground. "Chardin?" Renze asked after a moment.

Dark nodded. He felt the girl move close to him, and take his arm again.

"He's right, Papa," she said. "If we're stopped, I can say I'm his daughter.

Dark shook his head, pointed to his ears, then pushed his hand away.

"All right," Chardin said. "If you hear the soldiers coming, I'll run and hide."

"I see why you want her," Renze commented. "She understands you, and like all our children, she knows how to be invisible when necessary. We'll escort you as far as we dare, then leave you two to go on alone. But I'm not going to rely entirely on you. I'll try to make the mountain crossing to the south and send another party through Freeman's Pass. First rest a day longer. Go tomorrow night."

Dark agreed. At night, his blindness would be less a handicap.

A day later, Dark sat with his comrades for the evening meal. They sounded more hopeful than they had the previous night, and Dark knew his decision had been the right one. By leaving, he told them that no matter how defeated they were, they could still resist the Obour family. By leaving, he gave them hope.

Two of Renze's band took Chardin and Dark as close to the border as they dared to go, then left them. Soon after, Dark heard horses galloping down the road; soldiers, no doubt, since commoners had no mounts and nobles would not be abroad during the uprising. Chardin pulled him into a stand of tall grasses and as they had agreed, hid some distance away from him. The soldiers went past, Chardin later reported to Dark, without even glancing in their direction. ^UA hopeful sign," she said.

Dark only shrugged. The real danger would come soon, when they entered the border zone, where the baron's patrols watched for those trying to flee Kislova.

Because of Dark's wounds, they'd chosen a dangerous spot for crossing-a high alpine meadow of tall grasses and low stands of rock that sloped gently down to the border. Their buff-colored cloaks would blend with the land. Falling flat before a patrol spotted them, they might pass for rocks or bare spots in the grass, or so they hoped. They also hoped that, by picking such an open spot for crossing, they might encounter fewer patrols.

As Dark traveled, he considered Baron Janosk's last words to him. "Tell your men that they fought well, but the fighting is over. Tell them to go home to their families and their fields, or they'll starve this winter. Tell them that my soldiers will be in Pirie and Tygelt and throughout the lands around the villages to help them." The baron had chuckled and added, "Tell them as best you can. An ingenious man such as you will find a way."

An ingenious man had found a way, Dark agreed with grim satisfaction. He would defeat the baron and his family, and bring them down together.

Their journey went more smoothly than Dark had expected until the very end. Chardin had just whispered that she saw the border stakes, and they'd quickened their pace, very nearly running over a Kislovan soldier who'd fallen asleep at his post.

As he lunged at Dark, Chardin took him from behind, sinking her knife deep into his back. He cried out a warning as he died.

One of the mounted Sundell patrols had been riding through the high grasslands of the mountains when they saw a number of Kislova foot soldiers cross the border. Speeding up, they reached the soldiers just as they caught up with their quarry.

Shaul, commanding his first border patrol, cursed his bad luck. Though the patrols had turned back countless refugees since the rebellion in Kislova had begun, this was the first violation of the border by Janosk's troops, and it placed him in an awkward position.

"Let them have their prisoners," one of his comrades suggested. "Pretend it was all a mistake. Besides, I don't relish having to guard men such as those."

Shaul was inclined to agree. Though the handful of invaders wore the blue-and-gold tunics of Kislova, they looked less like disciplined fighters than street thugs. They'd formed a circle around their prisoners. As Shaul rode closer, he saw what looked like an old man and a boy of twelve or thirteen…

No, not a boy. No boy had features that fine, or hands that delicate. Nonetheless, the girl gripped a long dagger as though she knew how to use it, slashing at the soldiers who came too close. Shaul quickened his pace. Some of the Kislovan soldiers turned toward him, though the others were still intent on their prey.

"Leave us in peace!" the girl cried. "Haven't you done enough to him?"

Shaul took a closer look at the old man, saw the bandages on his eyes and hands, the way his mouth moved, trying to speak. Possibly the man had been mutilated as punishment for some crime-more likely for taking part in the rebellion. But if the man's crimes were so terrible, he should have been killed outright, not made to suffer like this.

"Back off!" Shaul ordered. "You are in violation of Sundell lands. Whoever is in charge, come forward!"

A man with long greasy strands of hair and a dark stubble on his face looked up at him. "You're mistaken," he said insolently, as if the Sundell riders weren't better armed and didn't outnumber his own troops two to one.

"There are the markers." Shaul pointed at the red-and-yellow stakes farther up the hill. "Let those people go." He pulled out his sword to emphasize his resolve.

"These prisoners escaped," the Kislova soldier said. "We would honor your laws in such a matter."

Shaul looked at the blind man, exhausted, defiant; at the girl, panting with fear. Whatever thoughts he'd had of compromise ended at the sight of their helplessness. "Leave them and go," he ordered.

The Kislovan commander shrugged and grinned. 'As you command," he said. As he motioned his men away, his hand fell to a dagger beneath his cloak. Before the Sundell soldiers could react, he let it fly toward the helpless man.

The girl struck out with her arm, deflecting the knife. She received only a small wound, but the cut was enough. She fell to her knees, clawing at her throat, trying to force breath into lungs that no longer worked.

Shaul struck, the force of his blow beheading the Kislovan commander. His men joined him in the fight, but though two were cut, only the commander's blade had been poisoned. The battle ended in minutes, with six of the Kislovan band dead. The seventh and last, only a little older than the dying girl, threw down his sword and surrendered.

By then the girl had lost consciousness and lay across her companion's knees. As Shaul watched helplessly, her body stiffened, then relaxed into death.

"Lord Jorani's poison," the Kislovan soldier whispered.

Shaul looked from the girl's face with its blue lips and^open, reddened eyes to the man holding her. His body shook with grief, though he was incapable of tears.

"Were you in the rebellion?" Shaul asked.

The man nodded. He pulled back a corner of the girl's cloak and motioned for Shaul to reach into a pocket. Shaul did, drawing from it a small scrap of parchment. On it was scrawled a single word-Invade.

"Janosk?" Shaul asked.

The man nodded again.

Shaul reached down and grabbed the man's arm. "Ride with me," he said, pulling the man up behind him.

"One of you bring the soldier to the castle," Shaul ordered. "And one other the body of the girl, as well. Perhaps our healers can determine the nature of the poison that killed her."

"What about the other bodies?" someone asked.

"Leave them for the cats," Shaul said. "Hold on to me," he whispered to the man sitting behind him, then made off at a gallop for Shadow Castle in the center of the great forest of Sundell.