The rain had stopped, but
mist hung heavy in the air. Their mounts threw clods of mud into the
suffocating darkness as they ran. As he had no other directions to
follow, Albion extended his senses and scanned for human forms as they
rode.
They crossed the river
and dashed through the still smoldering village. Corpses of slaughtered
animals steamed in the chill night, further fouling the air that already
stank of slaughter. The raiders were long gone.
Deryni senses were not
needed to find them when at last they caught up to the raiding party.
The sounds of pitched battle carried through the fog, magnified and
distorted in the faint light of early dawn.
*Sounds like we're
arrived second,* Josce sent from a few feet to Albion's right. *Shall we
split the troop and come at them from both sides?*
*Go quickly,* Albion
replied as he motioned half the men to follow Josce. *And stay quiet.*
*Right. Let off a burst
of light when you are ready for us.*
It took more time than
Albion would have liked to maneuver men and horses through the woods. He
barely had a moment to glimpse the battle in progress before he sent a
blast of power into the sky. The brilliant red light showed a ghastly
scene.
Isolde's men clustered in
the center of the battle, fighting back to back. The maneuver had bought
them enough time for rescue to arrive, but had Albion not come so
quickly they would have been slaughtered. The raiders, in contrast,
moved like a seasoned army, efficient and ruthless. Whoever trained
these outlaws, he was no simple soldier.
Albion engaged two of the
raiders immediately. It took all the skill he had to keep from being
caught between them and spitted like a Michaelmas goose. He let his aura
flare about him as he parried one blow and dodged another, thinking to
distract at least one of his attackers.
It did not work.
Apparently these men had experienced Deryni before.
Albion back peddled
desperately as his opponents pressed him harder.
A treacherous root
snagged his foot and he fell, hard. His sword slipped from his hand and
slid over the wet ground out of his reach.
He rolled away and braced
himself for the cut he could not escape.
The clash of steel on
steel told him some friend blocked the blow.
Albion seized his sword
and rose in one smooth motion. Done toying with these villains, he sent
a fireball that incinerated both his opponents instantly.
The battle was dying
quickly now. Raiders were disengaging and fleeing into the trees on
every side. Albion sent a quick prayer of thanks to the Powers-That-Be
in general and looked about for his rescuer.
To his shock a youth with
tousled red hair and a scattering of freckles stood beside him. The
badly notched sword in the boy's hand told Albion he was looking at his
savior.
The youth regarded him
warily, and did not lower his blade. Albion decided to make the first
attempt at peace. He extended his free hand and managed a decent smile.
"I thank you, lad."
The youth nodded, but the
wary look remained. "Did you see it?"
By his speech the boy was
no common crofter. "See what?"
Fear shadowed the lad's
eyes. Oddly enough, Albion sensed it was not himself, nor even his
Deryni power the boy was afraid of. No, the youth wore the look of one
who has glimpsed the unholy.
The lad glanced toward
the trees where many of the raiders fled.
"You did not see
him? The monster that led them?"
"Monster?"
Albion had been called that by many of the humans in Gwynedd since the
invasion. Instinct warned him to have a care here. It was unlikely the
leader was a disgruntled Torenthi, but hardly impossible.
"Aye, m'lord. A best
from Hell itself, wi' the cleverness and cruelty of the Devil. I saw
him, I did." The lad lowered his sword at last as if realizing the
fight was over and he was safe. "I was this close to him." A
gesture indicated half an arm's length.
"What's about?"
Josce joined them, wiping his sword on a scrap of wool cloth. "Who
have you found?"
The youth answered before
Albion could. "They call me Hugh Ross, m'lord. Young Hugh to some,
as it's my grandsire's name also." He glanced around, clearly
looking for someone. "Is he with you?"
"Your grandsire?
Nay, lad. He's fine enough," Albion added as concern puckered the
boy's forehead. "He's just a bit old to ride at speed. No
fear."
"O'course not."
*Josce, the boy has a
tale of a monster.* Albion glanced at his friend to make certain the
message was received. *We should read him and see the details.*
*Agreed, if he's willing.
He's been through a lot.* Josce hesitated, then added, *What will you do
if he's not willing?*
Albion did not want to
think of that. The idea of forcing a traumatized human to submit to what
might conceivably be called rape sickened him. Still, he needed the
information the boy held in his mind and could not justify delay.
Best cross that bridge
when it came. Albion faced the lad as if he were a man and his equal.
"Young Hugh, you are a fine hand with a blade. I thank you for my
life, and what's more, your king thanks you for saving his
kinsman."
Young Hugh's grin
widened. "Had I known you were kin to the usurper I'd have let 'em
have at you, m'lord."
"Be that as it may,
you have earned gratitude for your courage." Albion chose to pass
the remarks off as the result of stress after battle. He'd have a word
with the boy about keeping his tongue later. "And now, I must ask
you for yet more courage. I need to see what you saw of this
monster."
"And how would you
do that?" Some of the color drained from Hugh's face, but he stood
his ground.
"I would read your
memories, with your permission."
"And what if I do
not give it?"
Albion sighed. He let his
aura flare around his head again to emphasize his power. "I could
just do what I need to, you know. You could not stop me. I ask your
permission."
Young Hugh appeared to
consider his options. At last his shoulders slumped though he kept his
back straight as a sling staff for pride's sake. "Aye, you could.
You will go no farther than tonight? I have your word?"
Josce offered the hilt of
his sword. Encased in the grip a shard of bone glinted in a crystal
setting. "Lad, this is a splinter of bone from Saint Stephen, the
first to die for Christ. Will you accept an oath made upon it?"
When Hugh nodded, Albion
laid his hand over the crystal. He felt the presence of the saint like a
shadow behind and around him. Then sacred hands enclosed his and he knew
all were ready to hear him.
"I swear upon this
relic I shall do no more than observe the events of the night past. Nor
shall I change nor disturb anything in your mind, Hugh Ross of
Derry."
The boy nodded.
"Good enough, m'lord. What must I do?"
As Saint Stephen slipped
away Albion motioned for two of his men to join them. "They'll make
sure you don't fall, lad, as there's nowhere to sit in this muck. Just
relax your mind, draw a deep breath and think of something
pleasant."
As he spoke, Albion took
both Hugh's bare hands in his. He stretched his mind into Hugh's and
easily found the thought that brought a dreamy smile to the lad's face.
He almost laughed as he saw a glimpse of a fair haired girl with the
beginnings of what promised to be a full figure washing clothes in a
stream.
Then he moved past the
musing and located what he needed quickly.
Through Hugh's eyes he
saw the night before. He woke in a well made hut, to the clatter of
hooves and the screams of his neighbors. His grandfather tossed him a
short sword and buckler. The weapon felt familiar in his hands. He knew
well his own skill, and was certain he could handle whatever was out
there.
He dashed out the door
and charged the first foe he saw, a huge brute wearing a chain mail
hauberk and dented helm. The man wielded a wicked curved sword with one
hand, easily fending off farmers armed only with sickles and hay forks.
Hugh shouted a challenge
that narrowed the raider's eyes. His foe was big, easily double his
weight, but without his ease of movement. Hugh slipped under the man's
guard and sank his sword into the brute's gut. Warm blood gushed over
his arm.
Albion felt Hugh's
revulsion as the raider screamed. Blood sprayed from the man's mouth as
Hugh twisted his blade and pulled it free before he could contemplate
his action. Shock froze him in place. He could not look away as the man
died.
"Hugh!" His
grandfather's desperate shout shook him back into action. "Guard
yourself!"
His grandfather held
three of the raiders off, but Hugh could see he was tiring fast. He
raced to aid his grandfather, slashing his way through tow more of the
raiders. Neither man took a fatal wound, but both were slowed by his
blows.
Then, without warning,
something struck his head from behind. He fell to his knees, the world
spinning around him as his sword slipped from nerveless fingers.
Muddy boots of good
quality stopped before him. He raised his head to face his fate as a man
would.
A dark cloak of good wool
swathed the form of a hard muscled man from head to calves. The hood
obscured his face, save for a bit of a jaw shadowed with stubble. Two
eyes shone from the darkness of the hood like glowing red coals.
Sweet Saints and Angels!
He faced a demon.
The cloaked figure
gestured. Hugh was seized from behind, his arms wrenched behind his
back. The thing leaned closer and spoke in a deep, rattling voice.
"You cost me a man
today, boy. It's your duty to replace him."
Then terror tore screams
from his throat. He was thrown on a horse, his hands securely bound. One
of the raiders mounted behind him. They set of at a gallop, leaving the
cries of the villagers and the stench of burning homes in the darkness.
Helplessness and fear
overwhelmed him as he was carried away. He cried like a girl, ashamed
all the while as the tears streamed down his cheeks. The raider chuckled
and teased him for his lack of courage, which only made him cry the
harder.
Albion broke the
connection. He found himself shaking, sweat running in an icy trickle
down his spine. The lad's far and shame still echoed in his mind. But
then, what he'd experienced would have been enough to terrify many a
grown man.
Albion felt the touch of
Josce's mind. *What happened,* his friend asked through a wave of
concern.
*I'll tell you when we're
back at the castle. Better yet, I'll show you.* Albion turned his
attention to the boy, Hugh. From the dazed expression on his face he was
only just coming out of the trance. Or perhaps it was simple exhaustion.
For certain, Hugh
believed the thing he had faced was a monster created by the new Deryni
king to frighten his human subjects. The lad's story would unsettle the
common folk, at the very least. At worst, rebellion had begun from far
less.
So the boy could not be
allowed to tell his tale until Albion discovered the full truth. He did
not doubt the raider captain was a man, whether human or Deryni, but
helpless peasants might well believe the worst.
He laid a hand on Hugh's
shoulder. 'Lad, from what I saw tonight you are beyond brave. Never have
I witnessed a finer display of courage in the face of overwhelming odds.
I thank you."
Young Hugh bowed, though
clumsily. "Aye, M'lord. My grandsire would want no less of
me."
Albion gave him a smile.
"Then would you be willing to enter my service this night, Hugh
Ross of Derry? I am in need of a squire and would gladly have you to
train."
"Squire?" The
word seemed to shake the weariness from the boy's shoulders. He stood
straighter, his eyes bright in the dawn light. "Me?"
"I do not see why
not. If you serve me well who knows what fate will bring? It's not
unheard of for a man to be knighted for service with less skill and
courage than you've shown this night."
The boy said nothing, but
his jaw dropped and hung open. Albion took this as a good sign.
Josce tapped lightly
against his mind. *You don't need another squire. What are you
thinking?*
*I can't let this tale
out until we can see the truth behind it,* Albion replied, glancing at
his friend. *As my squire he'll have to keep quiet. I'll need that sword
again.*
Josce offered the sword,
hilt first. Albion took it and held it before Hugh. He centered his
shields and concentrated until the sword began to glow with an unearthly
light.
"Place your hand on
the blade, if you are willing to enter my service. Speak your oath so
all may hear." The direction was unnecessary. Hugh laid hi hand on
the sword without a moment's hesitation.
"I swear to serve
you, sir, with all my skill, in my life or in my death. No other lord
will I serve save by your direction. So say I, Hugh Ross of Derry, son
of Justin, son of Hugh."
"And this do I swear
upon these Holy Relics: I will teach you all I know of the ways expected
of a knight so that in good time you may take on such a fate as God in
His wisdom plans for you. I will provide you bed and board, three suits
of clothing per year and two pairs of boots. You shall have a horse,
arms and such equipment as you station shall have you bear from my own
purse. So say I, Albion Cammeron, Duke of Tolan.
"Now, Young Hugh,
I've two duties for you to begin immediately." Albion spoke in his
best brisk manner, a voice not to be taken lightly.
"First, do not speak
of this night to any save with my direct permission."
Hugh nodded. "As you
will, m'lord. And the other?"
"Find yourself a
horse. We return to Derry straightway." |