Chapter VI - Resolve

Cormac walked outside and picked up the sword artifact from the grass where he had flicked it earlier. He looked at it thoughtfully. She is going to be harder to keep around here than I thought. He had spoken truthfully to her; he had been expecting an escape attempt sometime that night. But he had not anticipated the sword to be stolen, nor for her obvious familiarity with it. She was not an exceptional sword-wielder, but with more practice, she could get better. He had gotten the impression that she was a little rusty with it. I wonder who taught her, he mused.

He turned and saw Jaedon standing in the doorway to the house. “She is in her room,” Jaedon said quietly.

“Good.” Cormac stared at his mentor for a long moment and then asked thoughtfully, “Do you think I did wrong when I bought her?”

Jaedon considered. “No. I do think that when you bought her you were opening us up to increased danger, though.”

“She does not know anything about the mission.”

“Not yet.”

“She’s smart,” Cormac acknowledge. “We’ll have to be careful. At least we’ve done it before.”

Jaedon smiled a little. “Yes, we’ve been doing it for years. I’m not overly concerned. We only have to finish the next two and a half months and then we won’t have to be merchants in Ruma anymore.”

Cormac looked down at the sword he held. Just two and a half more months. He disliked being in Ruma; already he was eager to leave and they had arrived but a week ago. “You’re right,” he finally said.

“Until then, we will just be as careful as we always are,” Jaedon said evenly.

Cormac took a deep breath and walked back to the house. He paused when he was beside Jaedon and looked into the man’s eyes calmly.

“Just two and a half more months,” he murmured, and then ducked into the house.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Cormac sat motionless in the saddle, faint snowflakes drifting down and landing delicately on the mane of his horse and the fabric of his cloak. The horse beneath him shifted his weight a little but stood in place, heaving a sigh. Cormac reached down and patted the stallion’s neck. “Good boy,” he murmured quietly.

He peered out from beneath the hood of his long cloak that was pulled over his head and overshadowed his face. He was positioned at the western gate of Ruma, the appointed meeting place between him and his customer. His three months in Ruma were finished; he was selling his last piece of merchandise today. He had finally found a buyer for the rare sword he had in his possession, but instead of satisfaction over the imminent sale, he felt only resentment.

Cormac already knew a great deal about the buyer, Captain Alquin Ricald. The Captain did not know anything about Cormac, however, and Cormac intended to keep it that way. The two men had never actually met, but Cormac knew the man had been an intimate player in the game that had claimed Cormac’s father’s life. It was by Captain Ricald’s witness that King Brastus Alustate, lord of Elangsia, had ordered the execution of Cormac’s father. And that was a fact that Cormac would never forget…or forgive.

He turned his head and stared darkly at the tall palace that stood on the other side of the city, up on a hill where it would be seen and admired by all. Architecturally it was a beautiful building, with elegant design and graceful lines. But the thought of King Brastus who lived in the palace spoiled all its beauty for Cormac. He frowned and looked away. At that moment, the sound of horse hooves came to his ears and two horsemen approached.

The first was obviously Captain Ricald. His uniform was dark gray with a heavy crimson cape flowing back over his shoulders to protect him from the early winter cold. His shoulder length dark brown hair was neatly combed and barely touched with silver. He sat regally on his horse, his eyes clearly showing his indifference to the peasants he rode through. Cormac hid a frown as the Captain’s horse almost ran down a small barefoot girl who was running across the street.

The second man was a bodyguard to the Captain. He was highly armed and appeared very alert. He studied Cormac intently as he and the Captain pulled their steeds to a halt.

“You brought my prize, Alstair?” The Captain asked, looking keenly at Cormac with his piercing hazel eyes.

“As requested,” Cormac assented in a low tone. He did not remove his hood but did tilt his head up so that his eyes met the Captain’s. “It is here.”

“Excellent. Bring it out.”

Cormac pulled the sword out from beneath his cloak and presented it to the man. The Captain unsheathed it and looked it over for a long moment with a look of satisfaction crossing his face. “Ah,” he murmured. “Pay him,” he ordered the man behind him.

The bodyguard grunted a response, his breath misting in front of his face, and pulled out a heavy bag of coins. He tossed it to Cormac, who caught it easily and opened it up to check the contents. Gold pieces twinkled up at him, seeming to mock him: Accepting money from your father’s killer, are you? Frowning deeply, he pulled the drawstrings tight and placed the bag in a pouch attached to his saddle.

“It is finely wrought,” the Captain said, sheathing the sword. “It is worth the price.”

“Thank you, Captain,” Cormac said, trying to restrain his revulsion at having to show respect to this man. “The Meruvian sea kingdom is full of such relics.”

“Useful relics.” The Captain smiled suddenly, but it was a cold smile. “It’s still sharp.”

“Aye.”

“Perhaps I shall use it to sever the head of the Hunter someday,” the Captain tossed the comment over his shoulder to his bodyguard. “Worthless mongrel that he is.”

“Has he been especially active lately?” Cormac asked, keeping his expression blank.

The Captain growled, “He’s always active. Pillaging battalions and stealing away rightful slaves of Elangsia; it’s contemptible and will stop soon if I have anything to do about it.” He inhaled deeply of the cold air and then shook his head firmly. “Many thanks to you, good merchant,” he changed the subject smoothly. “I am pleased with the quality.” He smiled again and added, “And I doubt that I will use this on the Hunter, though the rogue deserves it. It is to be a gift to King Brastus. You are fortunate that I found it, for not many would be willing to pay the price asked.”

“I am grateful for what service I can provide to you, sir,” Cormac gritted out, bowing his head as if in thanks. In truth, he bowed it to keep his eyes hidden from the man. They would too easily betray his true feelings.

“Good man,” the Captain muttered. “Take it, Rholden.” He handed the sword to the bodyguard and turned his horse away. “Farewell, merchant Alstair.”

Cormac lifted a hand in farewell but did not move his horse until the other men had disappeared from view down some street of the large city. The snow continued to float gently down from the iron gray sky and melted into slush on the ground. After they were gone, he clenched his hands into fists and tightened his lips. “Someday that man will pay,” he murmured determinedly under his breath. “He and the king both, for what they once did.”

Without another word, he reined his horse around and slowly began weaving his way through the town back to the house he resided in. He did not often express his deep-seated anger toward Ricald and Brastus in words; he was characteristically more cautious than that. He clamped his jaw shut as he rode away and pushed his anger to the back of his mind as he had done so often for the last six years. My time will come. Someday, they will pay.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“I have to leave soon,” Zoe muttered to herself, staring up at the ceiling in her room from her position on the bed in her room.

It had been two and a half months since she had been kidnapped and sold to Cormac Alstair. It seems like forever longer, she thought. Since then, she had slowly become accustomed to the routine of the house. Mornings were usually quiet and provided her with time to sit and think in solitude. Often a visitor or a prospective customer ate the noon meal with Cormac and Jaedon while Zoe served them. She despised serving them, but she bottled her feelings up and forced herself to comply. Since an open attempt to escape had not worked when she first arrived, she knew it was imperative for her to appear submissive. Then perhaps her captors would grow lax and another opportunity for her to run would come.

All in all, it had been a rather quiet couple of months. She had held firmly to her decision to “out-calm” the merchant, and that led to more staring contests between her and Cormac Alstair than actual spoken arguments. She had the distinct feeling that she amused him to some extent, which was not the response she was looking for. Also, her hopes that he would grow to ignore her completely had failed to come to fruition. Indeed, he seemed interested in her and often asked her questions about where she came from. She had told him nothing of Duard or her family; she did not trust him with the information. He was too enigmatic for her to understand.

Jaedon, on the other hand, was proving himself to be a comfort to her. I shall miss him when I leave, she thought with a trace of sadness. The middle-aged man—who was as hale as many men much younger than him—was a bright spot in her captivity. He appeared to be a quiet man to most, but in reality he was wise and unafraid to speak his mind. One thing that she found odd was that Cormac, Jaedon’s master, appeared to listen to Jaedon’s counsel and instruction, rather then vice versa. It confused her; how did Jaedon have such sway over Cormac? Jaedon was not exactly a slave, but he was still under Cormac’s authority. He was not a man who should have influence over Cormac. And yet, their relationship seemed to defy that.

Sounds from the front entrance of the house came to her ears and she sat up. Cormac had left earlier that morning, before she rose; it must be him returning now. She stood to her feet and walked toward her door. She was still clad in the same clothes she had worn when he bought her, but she kept them clean and washed. They still drew odd looks from people when she went out with the men in Ruma’s marketplace for food or to the bakery for fresh bread. She smiled a little as she opened her door and walked out into the hallway. Let them think what they want. I care little of their opinions.

As she had guessed, it was Cormac who had arrived. He nodded at her as he passed and she silently followed him to the sitting room. Jaedon was already there.

“That’s it,” Cormac said. “The sword is gone, and for a hefty sum too.” He tossed a bag to Jaedon and Zoe figured from the jingle as it landed in Jaedon’s hand that it held gold from the sale of the ornamental sword. She glanced across the room and saw that the small table that had been the resting place of the sword was now empty.

“Back to Meru now, then,” Jaedon stated.

“Yes,” Cormac agreed. Zoe thought she heard relief in his tone. She wondered why he did not like Ruma. She had already deduced that he was not fond of the city, nor the ruler of Elangsia, King Brastus, but had yet to ascertain why.

“We can pack today and leave tomorrow,” Cormac said. He turned to Zoe. “You will be coming with us, of course.”

“Your will is my duty,” Zoe replied, her tone impassive but her eyes shaded with sarcasm.

A smile quirked over Cormac’s features at her words. “Your compliance is truly remarkable,” he said with raised brows.

Don’t answer him, he’s just trying to annoy you, a little voice in her head warned her urgently. She lifted her chin and did not respond, though it galled her to ignore his words. “Where is Meru?” she asked instead.

“Far to the east,” Cormac answered. “Jaedon, is there a map on hand?”

“Right here,” Jaedon lifted a rolled piece of parchment that he extracted from a drawer of the table at the other end of the room. He had already been going to fetch it as Cormac answered Zoe’s question. “Let me show you where Meru is located, Zoe.”

She moved closer and peered down at the table as Jaedon spread the parchment out. “Here we are,” he pointed a small section of the map that showed the borders of Elangsia. She studied it carefully. North of Elangsia was a small country called Rulaan; to the southeast was Mairbrac Forest and beyond that, Aerilya.

Jaedon continued, oblivious to her keen scrutiny of the map. “Meru is far to the northeast from here,” he said. He traced his finger along a mountainous province that flanked the Great Sea and ended in a curving peninsula.

“We have to travel all that way?” She asked skeptically. “Won’t the mountains be impassable with snow and ice by now? It’s December.”

“There is a pass beneath them,” Cormac said quietly. “Tunneled out over the ages by the men of that region. It is a well-guarded secret that few know of.”

If it is well-guarded, then why do you know of it? She wondered, but did not voice her thoughts. She glanced from him back to the map. It showed the Cirthian Mountains, which she had crossed to reach here, but beyond them, in the direction of her old home, there was just blank parchment. Whoever had drawn the map knew nothing of Braedoch or the lands further south and east. Glancing back at their position in Ruma, she could see that Meru was very far from Elangsia and Aerilya.

“I am going to eat some lunch,” she said abruptly, straightening and stepping back from the map. She felt Cormac’s glance but did not return it as she hurried from the room. Her mind tried to process everything that was on the map. One thing was certain: Meru was too far for her to travel to. I cannot go that distance from here, she thought. I might never make it back, and I promised Grace I would find her and return her to her family. The only way I can do that is to find the Hunter back in Aerilya and ask for his help.

She cut herself a slice of bread and spread some butter over it. She had not forgotten the short conversation between her, Tryna, and Rebekka about the Hunter. They had told her that he resided in Mairbrac; she had gleaned other snippets during her occasional trips to the market. Apparently, the man was somewhat of a sensation around Ruma. There was constantly some story circulating about his latest assaults against the Elangsians.

She ate her bread slowly, considering what she knew about him. He had a band of men who followed him and did his bidding; he usually seemed to know about the latest military developments of the Elangsian army; and he had been actively opposing them since the beginning of the war, twelve years ago.

He must be a seasoned warrior if he has evaded death or capture all this time. Just the sort of person I need to help me, she thought. She could only hope he was compassionate enough to help her free Grace. There was a strong likelihood that he would not give her the time of day. Well, he’s never met anybody quite as stubborn as me, Zoe thought determinedly, chewing the last bite of bread and swallowing it. He’ll have to listen to me.

A plan slowly formed in her mind. Cormac had purchased two another horse last week in preparation for the journey back to Meru, bringing the number of available steeds up to three. She gnawed on her lip. If I could manage to get out of the house without him seeing me like last time, then I could take one of the horses and head back to Mairbrac. That is sure to cut down on travel time. It took a week to get here on foot but on horseback, it will go much faster. She sighed and her brow furrowed. But how can I leave without him knowing? He seems to see everything I do, no matter how quiet I am. That fact irritated her more than she liked to admit.

She looked up as Cormac and Jaedon entered the room, talking about the upcoming journey. They cut their own bread and ate at the table. Zoe remained seated on the hearth and stared into the small flickering flames close to her feet. I’ll just have to keep my eyes open and take whatever opportunity comes my way. There doesn’t seem to be any other way I can get around those two.