Tahn Page 3

  Tahn took a look into the cottage. There was no disguising the stain on its floor where the blood had seeped into the cracks of the rough wood. Oh well, he thought. This blood could not reveal its owner. Perhaps he could use it some way.

  With a scarf from his pocket and water from the skin, he wiped the blade of his sword so it would not be sticky, and replaced it to his sheath. And he whistled, loud and shrill like Darin. The man’s strong horse lumbered out from the brush. Tahn sprung to the empty saddle and drove the horse quickly toward the rising sun. His own Smoke instantly followed.

  They traveled without a pause for what seemed like hours. Netta was growing desperately weary, but Smoke continued his pursuit of his master. Finally, the man slowed.

  “We are near a horse trader who asks no questions. I will leave you with Smoke again so the trader cannot say he saw you.” He patted the animal beneath him and sighed. “A shame to slaughter such a fine mount, but the trader will if I pay him to. For Darin to have run away with you, his horse will have to disappear too.”

  Netta had nothing to say to this man who cared more for horses than for the men who rode them. She did not even want to look at him.

  He left her in a thick grove of trees. “I expect no one,” he told her. “Though I know you would welcome someone to find you while I am gone. Should it happen, I wish you life. But if they are dressed as I am, scream with all the breath that is in you.”

  He had done his whispering to Smoke, and he rode away.

  This time the horse did not follow. And once again, Netta tried in vain to get the animal to respond to her directions. Smoke simply ignored her and turned to grazing. Even at that, he would not move more than a few yards. She would not have thought it possible.

  No one came, and the wait was torturous. She struggled against the cord, but it only made her wrists raw. She thought she should pray again, but the weight of despair seemed to crush her very heart into the dust. So she wept bitterly as the wind began to whip about her with an unwelcome autumn chill.

  When she finally heard the approach of a horse, her heart pounded. Let it be a kindly, common man, she prayed, who will have the conscience to help me.

  But it was the killer returning. He rode a different horse that was plain looking but strong. He gave a little whistle as he turned again to the northeast, and Smoke joined him gladly.

  Tahn said nothing, but he saw the pain of his prisoner. He had wanted to push the horses and hurry on. He was desperate to move as quickly as possible. But he couldn’t push Netta so. He knew she could not understand that what he did he meant for good.

  He took them to a tiny stream that snaked through the dense woodland. When he unwound the cord from the horn of the saddle, he saw the angry red of her wrists. Her eyes were puffy and her face was streaked with the mixture of trail dust and tears. He lifted her down as gently as he could and led her to the water’s edge.

  He took her wrists and the cord around them into his hands and sought her eyes. But she turned her head away. “Promise me you’ll not run,” he said.

  But she wouldn’t. She just stared at the horses as they drank.

  Though he’d gained no assurance, he helped her to sit, knelt in front of her, and carefully loosed the cord.

  He could tell that the movement hurt her wrists, especially the right one, though she said not a word. She did not resist as he pulled her arms toward the cold water; she only shivered just a little as it washed over her wrists. But as he lifted his hands toward the scarf at her throat, she jumped to her feet with a cry. Quickly, he caught her elbow. “Wait,” he said, pulling her down again. “I know what I am to you, and that we will never get past that, but let me help you. Please. While I can.”

  Netta could barely stand sitting still, but she knew it would do her no good to run. As he lifted his hands toward her throat again, she closed her eyes, her body tensing. But he only untied the scarf that still hung there, that had once been her gag.

  He cut the scarf in two with a knife and swished both parts in the frigid, flowing water. Then he carefully wrapped the cold cloths around her aching wrists. “Let me get the waterskin for you,” he said, “and fill it fresh so you may drink like a lady and not stoop like dogs and men.” She didn’t move an inch from her spot. He brought her the water, and she drank much. After their long ride she needed its cool refreshment.

  Suddenly he was handing her a generous chunk of bread. “You’ll not be hungry yet, I know,” he said. “But try to eat, lest you become weak.”

  She stared at him, uncertain how to respond to his sudden kindness. He was not to be trusted. Of that she was sure. The man in the cottage had been an ogre, a horrible threat. But not so her Karll. There could be no good in the murder of that good man.

  And she was not hungry. The anguish of heart over the fate of her family and friends was too great to think about food. But perhaps he was right. Eventually, he would have to rest. Then there might be some way of escape, if she were strong enough. She made an effort to down at least part of the bread.

  He cupped water from the stream in his hand and drank, watching her. But he did not eat. “I would like to let you rest more,” he said. “But we must go quickly. I will let you stay on Smoke, because I am not so sure yet of the new animal, good as she seems. I would not want her spooked beneath you.” He sighed. “I’ll not tie you, Lady. But don’t spring from the horse’s back. The fall could be of harm to you.”

  He stood and seemed to be looking far away. “We will ride the rest of the day and reach a cave tonight. There we will have shelter and rest. Then I must return to Valhal for the little ones. I would that you stay at the cave in hiding. By the time I am back, you will be sought far and wide. But I will not bind you there.”

  His voice had seemed as far away as his gaze. The little ones? What was he talking about? Where was Valhal? And who was the Samis they had talked about in the cottage?

  She pushed those thoughts aside. If he were true to his word, she would be free of him soon. And even if he weren’t, there would surely be some way.

  2

  The cave was a series of rooms connected by narrow passageways. He was obviously familiar with it. He led her inside and navigated easily by torchlight. The moonlight did not extend far into the interior, and the blackness made her all the more uneasy. This was the sort of place one could enter and never find the leave of.

  When they reached a very large chamber, he stopped and released her hand. Netta could hear the continual sound of running water nearby. But her captor moved to the two leather bags he surely must have left here waiting for them.

  One bag held candles. He lit five and placed them around the room before extinguishing his torch. The dance of shadows against the rock crevices of the cavern was strangely beautiful, and Netta was suddenly aware of being bone weary.

  “I want you to eat again,” he said quietly. “Then we must sleep.”

  He gave her the second bag. “It is yours,” he told her. “Eat what you want now. The rest is for later. If you must leave, take it with you.”

  “I will go now,” she dared to tell him.

  “No, Lady. You are exhausted. You could not judge the woods or anything else aright until you have rested.”

  She did not relish the idea of a night with him in the cave’s darkness. “I’ll rest beneath a tree somewhere,” she insisted. “You made me come in. Now please lead me out. You said you would not bind me here.”

  “I won’t. But neither will I help you be foolish. There will be rain tonight. Accept the shelter. I will teach you the passage in the morning. Don’t try to go out on your own. If you take a wrong turn, I might not be able to find you in these tunnels if you go too far.”

  That brought her up short. She knew she wasn’t sure enough of the way out. She felt like screaming at him for the deception. What need to tie her if she were simply trapped?

  She sat down in silence and pulled a piece of fruit from the bag. She had never known the kind of ang
er she felt for this man. He had taken Karll. And now he had separated her from her family with no way of knowing if they were alive or dead. He changed from kind to cruel like the shifting faces of a spinning coin.

  She looked up, but he had disappeared. A line from Scripture leaped into her mind. “Love your enemies. Pray for them …”

  The thought horrified her. It was the last thing she wanted to do right now.

  She ate the fruit with some anxiety. She didn’t like not knowing where he was. It was like being aware of a lurking beast, out there somewhere beyond your field of vision.

  But she steeled her mind. Whatever he might do, she must keep her wits about her and be ready for the chance to get away from him. It was impossible to know what to expect, despite the things he said.

  Suddenly he emerged from the darkness beyond the third candle, carrying something. If the passage had not been directly in front of her, she would not have known his presence. He moved like a ghost, without a sound, though he wore boots and the floor was solid rock.

  He brought a pail of water with a ladle. “It is good and clear,” he said, his voice so low she could barely hear it. “I will show you where the stream flows in the morning too, should you decide to stay.”

  He left the water at her side and retreated to the opposite wall. “Good night, Lady,” she thought she heard him say.

  The rock floor was hard and cold, but Netta didn’t care. She was so exhausted that even her captor’s presence could not keep her from rest. At first she lay on her side and watched him across the dim room. But he was motionless, and in a few moments, she was asleep.

  Hours later, she was wakened by what sounded like some big animal. She jumped up with her heart pounding and looked around her. But the sound was gone. She noticed immediately that only two of the candles yet burned, and they had little height remaining. So she fished in the bag of candles and pulled out a handful. She lit three of them from the burning candle nearest her but nearly dropped the last one as the eerie sound came again and echoed through the chamber.

  It was a dreadful wail, almost unearthly in its depth of pain. And it was coming from across the room. From her kidnapper, who lay on his back on the cold stone. She didn’t know what to think or do. His body trembled from head to toe. Suddenly, he let out a piercing scream. She threw her hands to her ears. She wanted to scream too. This nightmare, instead of ending, simply rolled from one terrifying wave to the next. Surely she was sharing this cave with a madman.

  Tahn screamed again in the agony of the flames. He could feel his body separate from himself, writhing and flailing about in pain. The nightmare had its hold, and he knew it for what it was, but he was powerless against it. He gasped for air but could only drink in the searing heat. There was no end of it, no escape. His body curled inward, and the shaking grew more violent. A piteous moan escaped him and then broke to choked sobs. In the midst of the flames, he saw the slamming door of his first night at Valhal. He saw the screaming face of Samis, whip in hand. And he saw his own sword, dripping with the blood of someone named Karll.

  Netta watched him fearfully. He sleeps, she realized. God, what kind of a dream can it be? He had moved several feet in his thrashing about. And now he rolled into a ball, his hands to his face, sounding more and more like a child in his desperate sobs.

  “Dear Lord,” she whispered.

  He screamed again. He rolled toward her, nearer the candles, and she could see his face. The absolute terror written on it tore at her soul. She could not have imagined seeing such agony possess anyone, and she would have touched him then, to wake him, but she was afraid.

  He lay shaking a long time. Finally he turned his back to her and drew his arms up over his head. He seemed calmer then. He grew quiet, and the shaking subsided. When at last he sat up, she was afraid to say anything. He didn’t speak. He only disappeared into the dark passageway toward the sound of the water.

  Tahn didn’t consider going back to the lady until he knew by the ceiling’s tiny sliver of light that it must be morning. He didn’t know if he had wakened her with his dream, or how much of its effect she may have seen. He was loath to face her, but he knew that he must.

  Above him the crack to the outside world grew dark and then light. He could hear the distant rumbling of a storm. He shook his head. What must the lady think of him? Killer. Kidnapper. And now weak. Or insane, perhaps. Driven mad by a dream. At least she had not tried to wake him. Long ago, Lucas had learned the danger of that. All Valhal knew. Perhaps they all thought him insane.

  When he returned to the great chamber, his long hair was dripping wet, and he had a look of stone about him. “Let me show you the water,” he said, picking up a candle.

  Netta realized that he had traveled the dark passage with no light whatsoever, and wondered how he could stand it. But he made sure that she knew the route, making her get the feel of the stone passageway by hand.

  Then he led her to the main chamber. “I have to go back for the little ones,” he told her again. “I want to get you familiar with the cave quickly now.”

  “Who are the little ones?” she dared to ask, surprising herself.

  “Just children,” he answered. “I can’t leave them there. I’m supposed to be their teacher.”

  When he said it, there was a remnant of pain in his eyes, and she was sorry she’d asked. She didn’t want to know more about him and whatever he did.

  But he continued. “If something happens to me, some of them may try to make it here on their own. I will tell them the way if I can. It is one reason, besides your safety, that I’d hoped you’d stay, to lead them into this room and the water.”

  “I—I don’t want to stay,” she protested.

  “I know. And I understand. It is not your responsibility, and you do not wish to be my prisoner another day.” He lifted the stump of the torch and lit it with a candle. “Come ahead,” he told her. “I’ll show you the way out.”

  She followed him with sudden anguish of heart. She wanted away from anywhere having to do with him more than she wanted anything else. Yet something about last night and now his words about children constrained her. Oh, Lord! she pleaded. I want to run as far as I can! What should I do?

  As they neared the outside world, Netta heard the thunder. Rain was pouring hard at the cave entrance.

  “I am sorry that I have to take the horses, Lady,” he told her. “The youngest child is five, the rest not much more. I’ll need the animals to carry the little ones over the distance. Keep the shelter, at least till the storm breaks. I would that you wait for us, and I’ll give you your choice of the horses then. You may run out of food if there are problems to delay me. But I will bring more when I come. And here.” He handed her a knife. “You may need this. It should be three days, but if I am not back in a week, you may assume I’m dead.”

  He bowed his head for a moment, and when he looked up at her again there was something deep and unsettling in his eyes. “Say a prayer for the children, Lady,” he begged her. “They surely need it.”

  He gave a whistle, and Smoke met him at the flooded cave entrance. Soon they had vanished into the driving rain.

  He rode hard in the storm, pushing himself and the horses. He knew he had no guarantee that his plan would work. It all depended on Samis believing his word. And Samis had never placed much trust in anyone.

  Valhal stood on the side of a mountain, its high walls enclosing the home and training grounds of the self-dubbed dark angels and their savage mercenary leader. Unquestionably, Samis savored the notoriety of his men. He would send them out at the word of the baron or anyone else with wealth enough to pay them, to destroy and then return to their mountain retreat.

  Valhal remained isolated. Most outsiders who knew of the place thought it was a cloistered monastery. Samis had designed it so. No one ever came but the rare merchant or young man fleeing life. And Samis could make good use of either.

  Tahn approached boldly with his horses. He knew it would not b
e possible to smuggle out seven children, most of whom did not yet understand stealth. He would have to do it openly, which would require Samis’s permission, gained by deceit.

  The sentryman yelled to him. “Dorn! You were not to return alone.”

  “I must see Samis!” he shouted back. “It is urgent. In the performance of my duty I have been betrayed.”

  Entering through the gate felt strange this time, as if he were somehow different. And he was. He was here as a lie; he was no longer part of this world.

  Samis was waiting for him in the central sparring court. “Where is the Lady Trilett?” he demanded. He was old by the standards of the land, but his strength had not faded. He wore his black hair braided, and his confidence was such that he seldom wore his sword in the halls of Valhal. No one dared challenge him. Fear of the brutal consequences easily bested any detractor.

  “I left the lady with Darin according to your orders, Lord,” Tahn said, beginning his carefully constructed tale. “When the rectory was ablaze, I returned to them swiftly, but they were gone. Would that you had seen it well to leave her with me.”

  Samis’s eyes narrowed, and Tahn knew it was because he had dared question the wisdom of an order.

  “I looked for them,” Tahn continued, “but lost the trail. It seemed clear to me that Darin wanted her for himself.

  But I fear he may have hurt her and been unwilling to own to it.”

  “Why do you think it?” Samis questioned, staring at him fiercely. Tahn met his eyes without hesitation.

  “There was blood on the cottage floor, Lord.” He waited, giving Samis time to think that over.

  “You think Darin would defy me?” Samis shook his head. “He has not the courage to face my wrath nor the cunning to betray me.”

  Tahn freely acknowledged that. “Perhaps he will destroy himself,” he suggested. “When he has done what he will with the lady.”