Lines of Fire (The Guild House - Defenders Hall) Page 4

  Sando clapped Alric’s shoulder. “What happened? Why did you quit the race? Storm Cloud always wins.”

  Alric produced the nail. “Found this pounded into his hoof. Do you have any of that goo that farmer gave you?”

  “A full jar. Remind me to give the Healers a sample.” Sando walked away.

  Ganor leaned against a stall. “Enjoying the company?”

  “Heard some interesting things.” Alric grinned at Robec’s red face.

  A glaring Petan grasped Robec’s arm. “We need to go. Your father sent me to find you.”

  “Just a minute.” Robec turned to Alric. “No one should treat a prime steed like yours was.” He pointed to the nail. “I had nothing to do with that.”

  Petan halted. “Could be he did it himself. Maybe he found a way to arrange a private meeting. Bet he knows Kalia comes to visit her bihorn and tried to persuade her to run to the rebels with him.” He stalked back. “Kalia’s mine.”

  “Only if she chooses you.”

  Petan laughed. “She has no choice. The Swordmaster promised her to me.” He strutted away. “You have no say in any bonding. Ilna will be yours.” He laughed. “She is a woman of fire and passion.”

  Robec grasped his friend’s arm. “What are you talking about? Ilna will be furious.”

  “Won’t matter.”

  “How did you learn?”

  “The Swordmaster tells me things. If you spent time with him instead of in the training center you would know.” Laughter trailed after him. “Have fun tomorrow, Alric.”

  Alric watched the pair until they vanished. Sando returned with the salve. After cleaning and treating Storm Cloud’s hoof, Alric joined his friends. “That was an interesting moment.”

  “Very.” Sando cuffed Alric’s shoulder. “Until you retire for the night, stick with us. Don’t trust that pair.”

  “Robec isn’t so bad when he doesn’t let his father and Petan rule his life.” Alric lowered his voice. “I’ll refuse the choice made for me and duel with her champion. I will fight for a woman who told me she must accept a man she refuses to choose. She fears Petan. I don’t blame her.”

  Ganor shook his head. “Do you really think this is the time to challenge the Swordmaster?”

  “I won’t challenge him tomorrow, just the bonds he chooses to force. Kalia will have her choice, not her father’s. Besides I can’t run. Storm Cloud needs time to heal.”

  “You could take another mount.”

  “I won’t leave him. He’s worth too much.”

  Sando led his own bihorn into a stall. “Wait to see what tomorrow brings before you act.”

  Alric nodded. “If I can.”

  * * *

  On Ingathering Day at dawn, Alric joined the men of his patrol in the bathing room. Laughter and chatter filtered over the wall from the women’s side. After the morning meal, a gong would summon the four returned patrols and the Defenders who remained in the Hall. They would march to the salle.

  Bathing finished, Alric walked with his patrol to the refectory. They filled one of the long tables. Today the crowded room buzzed with speculation and hope. Alric believed he would be challenged so he chose his meal with care. Eggs, but no sausages or fried meat. Toasted bread and multi-grain cooked porridge. He took two mugs of citren. As he joined his friends his thoughts turned to the Swordmaster’s older daughter. Why did the man want his daughter to bond with Petan?

  She didn’t like her father’s choice. Alric had sensed fear in her voice when she’d spoken of the selection.

  Robec and Petan entered. The beefy Petan carried a tray laden with food to one of the small tables. Alric grinned. With such a heavy meal the man would be sluggish if he elected to duel.

  Sando clapped Alric’s shoulder. “We’ll stand beside you in your refusal. So will Elgrin’s patrol. The other two are undecided but some of their members don’t like what the Swordmaster plans.”

  Alric nodded. “Thank Elgrin.”

  “Will do.” Sando rose and walked to another of the long tables.

  Alric ate his light breakfast. He savored the tart flavor of the citren.

  A gong sounded.

  Alric walked with his patrol to the salle. When classes were in progress, the large practice area with a sand-covered floor had room for three dueling circles. Sunlight streamed through the glass ceiling panels. A scattering of people sat on the benches along one wall.

  As Alric’s patrol took their place on the arena floor more people entered and slid into the stands. Women eligible for bonding stood against the wall separating the stands from the salle floor.

  The Swordmaster strutted into the arena. His Right and Left Hands followed three steps behind. Alric studied the lines of the three men. Only those of the Swordmaster bore a dark red shade reminding him of dried blood. Could the leader of the Defenders lines grow any darker? Was this condition a disease? If so, was there a cure?

  The Swordmaster mounted the raised platform facing the seats. His Seconds took places on either side of the steps.

  “Welcome to this year’s Ingathering of the returning patrols.” His deep voice halted the chatter from the attendees. “Begin the reports.”

  One by one, the patrol leaders joined him to speak of the important events they had discovered during their four years away from the Hall.

  When Sando told of Alric’s duel with the desert rider, cheers arose. The leader scowled.

  Once the four reports ended, the Swordmaster cleared his throat. “The award this Ingathering Day for the most successful duels goes to Alric. Seven duels and no deaths. In the four years of his tour he has had one death and that was justified.”

  Alric left his patrol and approached the platform. He caught the bag of coins tossed to him. Other awards were given.

  Once the applause ended the Swordmaster raised his hands. “Come forward those who wish to declare their bonds as permanent.”

  Four couples approached the platform.

  “Do you swear this is a heart bond?”

  “Yes,”

  “Then until death draws you across the abyss you will cherish and honor each other.”

  “We will.”

  “Dismissed.”

  The Left Hand unrolled a scroll and handed it to the leader. “The following pairs have declared they will enter a trial bonding period.” He read the names.

  A dozen couples exchanged the brass bracelets. They swore to attempt to form a permanent bond. Alric wondered how many of them had chosen each other.

  The Swordmaster dismissed them. He raised his hand. “Our champion dueler has twice chosen and twice the bonding has failed. I name Ilna as his third mate.”

  Alric crossed to the platform. “Since this is my third attempt, the choice is mine. I did not choose the failed bondmates but accepted the ones chosen for me. I do not accept this mate. The third choice is mine. According to the rules I have a year to find a mate. If I fail, I will leave the Defenders.”

  “You can’t do this,” Ilna screamed. She faced the Swordmaster. “You promised me the best dueler as my mate. You said he couldn’t refuse. I demand a duel.”

  The leader raised his hand. “Alric, do as I command.”

  Shouts came from the patrols and the stands. “Alric is right. The choice is his.”

  Ilna whirled. “Then a duel is called for I have been insulted. Robec will be my champion. I haven’t the skill to face the best dueler of the Defenders.”

  The Swordmaster’s lines of fire grew as dark as a liver removed from an animal during butchering. His face blanched.

  Robec stepped forward. “I accept the request by Ilna to be her champion. Though I will fight for her I will not bond with her.”

  “As is right.” The Justicar rose from his seat. “Since she named you, you are not obligated to bond with her should you lose.”

  The Swordmaster lowered his hands. “When the choosing ends, the duel will be fought.” He smiled. “My older daughter has been of bonding age for several
years and hasn’t made a choice. I was approached by a man I believe will suit her perfectly. Petan, name your bondmate.”

  “Kalia.”

  Alric watched Kalia leave the line of young woman who remained against the wall of the stands. “As is my right, I refuse.”

  The Swordmaster’s face blazed red. “As your father I forbid you to refuse.”

  “The right is mine. I have no desire to be joined to a man I don’t like or trust.”

  Alric admired the bravery of her defiance. Could she prevail?

  “Then I challenge you and any man fool enough to champion you.” Petan grinned. “Will you stand in the circle against me?”

  “You know I’ve never dueled except in practice.”

  “Then you have no choice.” He dangled a bronze bracelet from one finger. “Come, Kalia, admit you are mine. Don’t be a fool.”

  Alric stepped forward. “I’ll champion her.” The Swordmaster’s expression made Alric wonder if he’d stepped into a trap.

  The older man laughed. “Then you will face them both in a single duel.” He beckoned to his Seconds. “Prepare the largest circle.”

  * * *

  Anger rolled through Kalia’s thoughts. Blood pounded in her veins. Her father had done this. Did he really think she would agree to bond with a bully who bore the touch of evil in his lines of fire?

  Her thoughts returned to her encounter in the stable with Alric. The warmth of his touch had brought comfort and a yearning for something she couldn’t name. Still, the behavior of their lines had frightened her. If she and Alric went beyond touches, would his lines become as dark as her father’s? During their meeting, Alric had promised to help her. Would he win against Petan who would never play fair?

  Kalia drew a shuddering breath. She would run. Mist was fast. She edged away. A hand clamped on her arm.

  “You will obey.”

  As she opened her mouth to protest no words formed. What was happening?

  The Swordmaster turned to face his Left Hand. “Since my daughter and Lagan’s are involved in this duel, you will act as judge.”

  Sando’s patrol remained on the sand. One of the men took Alric’s vest and shirt. Alric pulled a chain over his neck and handed it to Sando.

  Kalia stared. Alric’s broad chest and his honed muscles brought an urge to touch his tanned skin. A line of rich auburn hair led from his chest to the top of his trousers. Beside him her brother looked like a boy. Petan’s chest and back made her think of a grizzle.

  Her attention turned to the chain Sando held. Sunlight glittered on metal. Was that a bonding bracelet like the one her mother had given her, the one belonging to a dead woman? As Sando’s patrol walked to stand around the circle, Kalia tried to pull free of her father’s tight grip.

  His fingers dug into her arms. “You will sit below me and see what you have wrought. Your only brother faces death. If he dies I will break my bond to your mother and find a younger woman to give me a heir. By your doing you have set Robec’s enemy as his opponent.” He released his hold and pushed her toward the stands.

  A dozen things she wanted to say bubbled toward the surface. As she was about to speak he clasped her shoulders. All words fled. He shoved her onto the bench below his elevated chair. Kalia stared at the dueling circle. What happened when her father touched her? Why couldn’t she speak? Next time she would watch his lines and hers. If she could.

  The pointed toe of her father’s boot touched her back. Would he kick her if Robec fell?

  Kalia pressed her hands against the top of the low wall. Alric stood tall and faced his opponent. From the gathered watchers she heard wagers being placed. To her surprise, though he faced two men, Alric was favored to win. How was that possible?

  The Left Hand and the Justicar examined the blades of the men. The Justicar wiped Petan’s sword and knife with a wet cloth and dried them. What had he removed? Had Petan poisoned his weapons?

  “Begin,” the Left Hand called.

  Petan and her brother charged toward Alric. For the match, the blades weren’t the practice ones with the cutting surfaces colored with chalk to mark the injuries. The swords glinted in the light from the skylight overhead.

  “To the death,” Petan cried.

  “To defeat,” Alric responded.

  Kalia’s hands tightened on the railing. Was this a death match? Her father’s laughter spoke of his approval of that outcome.

  “Defeat,” the Swordmaster shouted. He laughed. “First blood goes to Petan. Robec, step aside and allow a superior man to end the duel.”

  With a flurry or strokes Alric drove his opponents toward the edge of the circle. Kalia half-rose. She wanted to cheer when she saw the sluggish lines on Petan’s skin. Surely Alric used them to gauge his opponents’ actions.

  The movement of the swords mesmerized her. She closed her eyes for a moment.

  “No.” Her father’s cry drew her attention back to the circle in time to see Petan slash Robec’s thigh. Blood spurted from the wound.

  “Time,” the Justicar called.

  Her father’s scream of denial hurt Kalia’s ears. She jumped to her feet and scurried toward the entrance to the salle floor. Would she be in time to stop her brother’s loss of blood?

  Alric dropped his sword and knife and sprinted toward Robec. Kalia’s eyes widened when he clamped a hand on her brother’s thigh. The bleeding stopped. For a moment his lines flickered before steadying.

  A scream of warning rose from her throat. She shrieked but didn’t think Alric heard her over the noisy chaos. The Healer and several others made their way from the stands. Did anyone see Petan running toward the man kneeling over Robec and halting the fountain of blood?

  “No,” she bellowed.

  Too late.

  Alric raised his head and twisted his body away from the descending blade. He failed. The point missed his back but the razor edge sliced a line across his back and arm.

  “Foul.” The cry rose from the stands.

  The Justicar turned. Several members of Alric’s patrol grabbed Petan and bound his arms behind his back. Cries from the stands condemned Petan. The sound roared like the whirling winds of summer.

  The Swordmaster raised his hands. “Silence. I will judge the matter. Who can say if Petan or Alric injured my only son?”

  Kalia’s hands clenched. Would he find a way to place the blame on Alric?

  The Left Hand strode to the Swordmaster. “I will testify. Petan cut Robec when there was no reason to turn his sword in that direction.”

  “Truth,” the Justicar said. “The Left Hand says exactly what I witnessed.”

  “Perhaps your gazes shifted for a moment and you missed what I saw,” the Swordmaster said.

  “Petan, did you cut Robec?” the Justicar asked.

  “Yes.”

  “Truth. Was it deliberate?”

  Petan pressed his lips in a firm line.

  Kalia clenched her hands. His silence condemns him. What would happen now?

  Chanting rose from the crowd. “Cheat. Petan is a cheat. Banish him. Banish Petan now.” The shouts roared like a fire at the peak.

  The cries thundered in Kalia’s ears. She found her way through the number of men and women gathered around the fallen. What would her father do? Would he defy the rest of the Defenders?

  His words startled her. “Petan, you have forfeited your position as a Defender. Be gone. You have two hours before you will be hunted.”

  Chapter 4

  Though Alric tried to avoid the descending blade, he failed. His roll prevented a death blow. Excruciating pain followed the slice of the sword along his back and left arm. Would the wound cripple him and force him to leave the Defenders? Anger rose with the pain. How dare Petan attack from behind?

  Alric collapsed atop Robec and felt the warm stickiness of fresh blood. Sliding his hand along his companion’s leg he realized the flow was his own. He rolled to the sand so the Healers could work on the Swordmaster’s son.

 
Angry shouts chanted words he strained to hear. “Banish him.” Over and over the words filled his head. Why did they want to send him away? He wasn’t the coward who had struck from behind. He had sped to Robec’s side to save him from crossing the abyss against his choice. Robec’s friend had been the one to strike the blow.

  Alric heard a man’s voice. “Damn, the bleeding won’t stop.”

  “Robec?”

  “No. Whatever you did stopped the flow from his wound. It’s your injury that’s the problem.”

  “Let me,” a soft voice said.

  Alric felt fingers move slowly along his back. The warmth of the touch told him who was there. He turned his head. “I’m sorry I failed to free you.”

  “But you did. Petan dishonored his sword and knife. He’s gone,” Kalia whispered.

  Her touch vanished but he savored her words. He hadn’t been sent away in disgrace. He remained a Defender.

  Chills shook his body. Shock, he thought. It had happened to him once before after an injury. “Healer, how bad is my injury?”

  “Bad enough to need stitching. Imagine you’ll be a guest in the Infirmary for a week or so.”

  Alric shook his head. “Don’t have time for that.”

  The Healer chuckled. “Let me wrap your arm and back. Good thing you moved or the blade would have gone into your heart.” He daubed something on the skin. “This will numb the area.”

  The pain receded. Alric drew a breath. “Thanks.”

  “How did that woman stop the bleeding?”

  “Defender’s secret.”

  “Then I won’t pry but sure would like to learn how.” The Healer sighed. “Would help when we need to cut people to heal them.”

  Sando knelt beside Alric. “You all right?”

  “Been better.”

  “Put yourself in a pickle.”

  “How so?”

  Sando chuckled. “Saved the Swordmaster’s son. Revealed an interesting talent to everyone. Got rid of your leader’s favorite. Coward came after you. All four patrols demanded Petan’s banishment.”

  “Did the Swordmaster agree?” Alric moved his head and felt no pain. Whatever the Healer had rubbed on his skin had worked.