Chapter XXV - Rescue
“Stupid child! If you'd take a half a moment to think, you'd see you're doing that all wrong!”
The sound of a loud slap came from the inside of the Ricald manor, and Tancred’s lips tightened at the subsequent cry of a girl. Grace. The angry woman continued ranting at the little girl for a few more minutes before scornfully exclaiming, “Ah, you're not worth my time. Begone, fool girl! Out with you—you can sleep with the chickens tonight for all I care.”
Tancred watched from his secluded position as Grace was half-shoved, half-flung out the back entrance of the manor. She landed and rolled a little in the dust, her brown curls falling into her face and across her thin shoulders. She raised her head and brushed the hair away. A mixture of indignation and protectiveness swept over Tancred at the sight of her unwashed face, which bore streak marks from the tears that overflowed out of her large, bright eyes.
Hold on, little one, he inwardly urged her, wishing to reveal himself but knowing the time was not yet right. You are not alone any longer.
He was here to get the little girl by himself, while Jaedon followed at a distance and kept a close eye out for either the assassin or spies sent by Montel. The last two weeks had been free from incident, but Tancred had not let his guard down. He knew the aspiring killer was still out there; he could sense him everywhere.
Not to mention that the plot had thickened considerably when, two days after the assassin’s attack, Tancred had discovered a note shoved beneath the front door of his house. It read, quite simply:
Skilled assassin remains and waiting to kill. Very persistent. Be on guard.
Apparently there was someone in the city who knew who the hired killer was; who Tancred was; and what the killer was planning on doing to Tancred. Judging by the assassin’s delay in action, Tancred deduced his tracker was very skilled and experienced. He was coolly biding his time, waiting to strike when Tancred was off guard.
All of that combined made for a dangerous situation that required all of Tancred’s concentration and awareness. It was not easy, and after two straight weeks of it, he could feel an underlying cloud of weariness from where it had permanently settled at the back of his head. It was growing more difficult to ignore its beckoning call to rest and let down his guard.
As soon as Grace was free, Tancred and Jaedon planned to meet back at the house. From there, they would boldly ride out of the city with Grace, heading in the direction of Meru. Once they were several miles away from the Elangsian capital, they would cut southeast toward Aerilya and join the Hunter’s men in Mairbrac when they reached the forest again.
At least, that’s what Jaedon thought was going to happen.
Tancred had yet to inform Jaedon that the Hunter had one last mission to complete in Ruma before departure.
In other words, Tancred would not be leaving until Zoe was free from the palace. Jaedon would have to leave for Aerilya without Tancred. Grace would be more than adequately protected by the seasoned warrior. She did not need Tancred’s protection in addition to Jaedon’s. In contrast, Tancred knew that Zoe did need him—whether she would admit it or not. And he intended to help her escape if it was the last thing he did.
His lips twisted into a small, cynical smile. Knowing what Brastus did to those who opposed him, rescuing Zoe very well could be the last thing Tancred accomplished.
Nevertheless, he had the first part of the operation, getting Jaedon and Grace out of Ruma, sufficiently planned out. If King Brastus or Montel were still monitoring Tancred, looking for suspicious behavior on his part, they would likely send soldiers to question Tancred as soon as Jaedon’s sudden departure became known. Tancred would be appropriately indignant at their suggestions and seemingly ignorant of Grace’s disappearance as well. Jaedon’s absence would be attributed to a needful trip back to Meru—they were running low on artifacts and since business had been picking up, they required more to conduct further commerce.
Jaedon was certain to be very dissatisfied with the arrangement, but Tancred felt a calm peace about his decision to stay. He did not fear for his own life. Deus had long ago placed his mark on him and protected him each day since. Christus was Tancred’s Savior; the One who would always be with him until his last breath. The Unseen One had Tancred’s days numbered. With such knowledge, Tancred felt surprisingly little alarm even in the face of inevitable danger.
Now, Tancred continued to silently brood as the shadows slowly darkened at the Ricald estate. He was doing the right thing by freeing Grace and sending her back with Jaedon. What happened past that would be a matter of faith and trust.
Typically Tancred did not care to be in a position that he had not considered and deliberated every single aspect of, but in this case he believed that he was making the right decision. Come what may, he was devoted to his Savior. Had he not promised every morning upon waking to serve Deus Ever-Wise? How could he abandon his convictions now?
He shifted into a more comfortable position, keeping his eyes trained on Grace’s still form. She appeared to have curled up beside the chicken coop and fallen asleep. He wondered how many nights she had been thrown outside to fend for herself. The very thought made the blood run hot through his veins. Clenching his teeth, he forced himself to remain in place.
Jaedon, after accepting the fact that they were going to free Grace and that there was nothing he could do or say to dissuade Tancred from that, originally volunteered to be the one who went to fetch Grace from the manor, but Tancred had firmly refused. He did not wish to pass up the opportunity to strike a blow back at the family of the man who murdered Liam. It was, in a miniscule way, a small reprisal for Captain Alquin Ricald's brutal actions against the Ralyn family.
Vengeful thoughts toward the Ricald family often clashed with Tancred's personal vow to obey Deus. He wrestled with his deep-set emotions, knowing that revenge ought to be left to Deus, but unconvinced of another way to deal with his anger and loss. Now isn't the time to think of that, he ordered himself savagely. Stay focused.
Evening came, bringing with it dim, silvery moonlit. Perfect for accomplishing his purposes. Tancred waiting until everything in the Ricald house settled down before creeping stealthily through the shadows toward the chicken coop.
Suddenly, a flash of motion caught the corner of his eye from the direction of the manor. He instantly dropped flat to the ground and rolled behind a tree, wincing as a few brittle, fallen leaves crackled beneath him.
He muted his breathing as much as he could. Who in the world...?
“Grace?”
It was a soft, girlish voice. Perplexed, he turned his head slowly and peered out from behind the tree, wondering who the newcomer was. A child, slender and willowy, stood in the center of the yard, glancing from left to right. Her eyes fell upon Grace and she hurried forward, her bare feet whispering through the grass and leaves. Tancred studied her, wondering who she was. Her soft, billowing nightdress appeared too fine to be that of a servant girl’s; it boasted fine embroidery on the sleeves and neckline. But if she was not a slave, who could she be?
She knelt in the dust and gently touched Grace’s shoulder. Grace woke with a start and sat up. “Alayne! What are you doing here?” exclaimed Grace quietly, scrubbing her dirty face with her equally filthy hands. The motion merely ground the dirt deeper into her skin.
Alayne reached into a pouch that Tancred had not seen her carrying and handed a piece of fruit to Grace. “I saved this for you from the evening meal,” she explained. “Mother did not retire to her chambers for ever so long, or I would have brought it sooner.”
Mother? Tancred looked closer at Alayne and caught a glimpse of her bright hazel eyes. His jaw tightened. Of course. Those familiar eyes, tied in with her long, dark hair and fine clothing revealed her identity. It was so simple; Tancred could not believe he did not realize it immediately.
Alayne was the daughter of Captain and Lady Ricald. She had her father’s eyes, hair, and features. She was a miniature, female replica of the man who had murdered Tancred’s father.
Tancred turned his face away and closed his eyes. How could someone as evil as Ricald sire a daughter who appeared so pure and sweet? She looked no more than ten or eleven, approximately the same age as Grace. The two of them had obviously become friends. Alayne cared for the slave, and Grace cared for the high-classed girl.
Alayne has not yet become contaminated by the Elangsian nobility and their ideals, Tancred thought cynically. He listened to the two girls whisper together. They were completely oblivious to his presence. Alayne seemed in no hurry to return to the house. She enjoyed Grace’s company.
What of it? Alayne does not change anything, Tancred told himself stubbornly. Nothing at all. Punishing Ricald is not only natural, it’s to be expected of me. What do I care that he has a daughter? a wife? Was not my father ripped from his daughter and wife and son?
“I’m so sorry you were thrown out again,” Alayne’s pleasant-sounding voice drifted toward Tancred. “I would let you sleep with me, but Mother would be furious if we did that another time.”
“I know,” replied Grace quietly. A moment later, an apple core flew past Tancred and struck the ground, rolling in the dirt. “I do not ask it of you. I can sleep outside.”
“It’s not right,” Alayne said fiercely. “Mother is so unreasonable sometimes.”
Grace heaved a sigh in response.
Alayne’s tone took on an eager, wistful quality as she continued: “Tell me again about your family, Grace. Please?”
“T-they were killed.” A tremulous catch was heard in Grace’s voice. Tancred’s fist clenched. So much pain for one little girl to bear in her short life....
“Da was very strong. He also liked to tell stories. He always told me legends when it was cold outside and we sat by the fire that he built. Before my sister Riana married and moved away, she would demand for Da to tell us stories about the Hunter.”
“The Hunter,” repeated Alayne uneasily. “My father says he’s an evil vagrant who will kill children and drink their blood.”
The lie was so ridiculous, Tancred smiled faintly. How like Ricald to distort the name of the Hunter and tell falsehoods to his own daughter.
“He is not evil,” Grace said angrily. “He is a good man. He would never kill children.”
“Perhaps not,” said Alayne, doubt coloring her words.
“He is a hero. Ma always said that if all went wrong for Aerilya, the Hunter would save us.”
Alayne was quiet for a long time. “My father wants to kill him,” she admitted.
“He will never be killed,” Grace stated with the calm assurance of a young girl. Tancred’s smile waned and then faded, thinking of the Hunter who had died. “He’s too brave and smart to be killed.”
“Maybe you’re right.”
The girls continued talking quietly, but Tancred’s thoughts had drifted away. Just two weeks earlier, he had walked through the palace courtyard, over the very stones where his father’s blood had run after he was beheaded. Along with the mental image of the murder came the all too familiar questions: Why, Deus? Why did you take him? I’m trying to serve you, trying to do what is right...what am I doing wrong?
“Vengeance is mine.”
Tancred swallowed as the implications of the three words from the Book sprang into his head. They were a statement of Deus’s; one that meant He would be the one to take revenge and dole out judgment on those who needed it. It was the task of Deus’s servants to step back and let their Lord work.
Jaw clenched, Tancred resisted. He didn’t want to give his hatred for Ricald and King Brastus over to Deus. Over the years it had become almost a comfort to him: when he thought of his father, he could quickly turn his sorrow into the very powerful emotion of anger. Anger against the men who tore his family apart. The men who killed Liam Ralyn, who had been a man dedicated to his family, his country, and his heavenly King.
Look at the child, Tancred.
Tightening his jaw, Tancred turned slightly and looked long at Alayne. A moment later, she raised her head and stared in his direction. Tancred froze. He was in the shadows, so he was relatively sure that she could not see him, but it was still unnerving to see her intelligent gaze resting perhaps two inches away from him. She possessed an innocent face...the face of one who has been sheltered from the evils of the world. Surely with a father like Alquin Ricald, Alayne would have heard and felt more than her share of the darkness that permeated the earth, right?
In killing Ricald, as is your ultimate goal, you would be forcing Alayne to suffer the same thing you and Kristalyn suffered: the loss of a father who is dearly respected and loved.
No! Tancred struggled against Deus in his spirit. It’s not the same. Ricald is a fiend!
To the Elangsians, your father was a fiend.
Shock settled over Tancred’s shoulders, but he instantly realized the truth in Deus’s inner prodding. Liam had been a terror to the Elangsians; even now they feared him—or who they thought was him.
Alayne blinked, breaking the odd connection that Tancred had with her, and then rose to her feet. “I have to go back before somebody notices I’m not in my chambers,” she whispered to Grace. “Good night.”
“Good night, Alayne. Thank you for the apple.”
“It was nothing. You’re my friend...I will keep looking out for you.” Alayne’s voice faded as she hurried back toward the house, and silence fell.
Tancred listened closely and heard Grace sigh, long and deep. Time drifted along, and the air had a frosty bite to it when the little girl finally fell asleep again.
He fingered his dagger and closed his eyes.
He could not kill Ricald. Nor Brastus. Their fate belonged solely to Deus; the One who had created them and oversaw their destinies.
Surprisingly, Tancred did not feel much pain at giving up his deep-seated desire to bring justice on their heads. Instead, peace flowed through every fiber of his being, bringing with it sweet relief.
Clearing his mind, Tancred rose silently to his feet and walked out from his place behind the tree.
He crouched down beside Grace and hesitated. It seemed a shame to wake her again, for she looked so peaceful while in the oblivion of slumber. Still, it could not be helped. Tancred gently touched her shoulder, covering her mouth with his other hand at the same time. Her eyes blinked slowly open and stared up at him dreamily. Then as her consciousness flooded back, she reacted more violently and struggled to get away from him.
“Shh, shh,” he whispered as kindly as he could. He had not dealt with children for a long time and struggled to keep his tone calm and unthreatening. “I’m here to help you.”
She still kept flailing her arms and trying to scream through his hand, so he leaned closer and murmured, “Quiet, Grace! Zoe sent me. Remember? Zoe? She’s working with me to help free you.”
At the mention of Zoe, Grace ceased fighting him and stared up with wide eyes. It wasn’t quite true that Zoe had sent him—he had come of his own accord—but it had succeeded in getting Grace’s attention, which was what he wanted. He gradually removed his hands from the back of her head and her mouth. “Can you be quiet?” he questioned under his breath.
She slowly nodded. “Yes,” she whispered. “Where is Zoe?”
He inwardly grimaced, but kept his outward expression impassive. “She is a slave in the palace,” he told her. “She wanted to free you. She cannot help you while she is a prisoner, so I’m doing it for her. You must believe me and come quietly or I cannot help you. Do you understand?” Grace bit her lip, which, Tancred noticed with carefully concealed anger, was swollen, likely from the blow she had received earlier from the woman who threw her out of the house. Restraining his fury at the abusive treatment she had suffered, he reached his arms out. “Come with me, Grace. Trust me.”
“What is your name?” she inquired in a quavering voice, still irresolute.
“You might know me as the Hunter.”
She blinked, obviously not expecting that answer but believing him immediately. “Alayne thinks you drink the blood of children,” she stated slowly. “I told her you would never do that.”
“You’re right. I wouldn’t.”
“I prayed you would come get me someday,” she said with wonder. “Deus heard me, didn’t He?”
Tancred smiled gently. “That He did.”
“Do you promise to take me to Zoe, Sir Hunter?” she asked him seriously.
He hesitated ever so briefly. “I promise that if it is within my power, you will see her again,” he finally said with equal gravity, meeting her solemn gaze unwaveringly.
Without any further hesitation she reached toward him with her two cold, slender arms and he picked up her effortlessly. She wrapped her hands around his neck and whispered shakily, “But what about Alayne?”
“She must stay here with her family,” Tancred said quietly.
“I hope she does not think I dislike her....”
“If she is your true friend, she will know that you are loyal to her.” Tancred looked kindly down at Grace and offered a small bit of hope. “Perhaps one day there will be peace between Aerilya and Elangsia and you will meet her again in better times.”
“Yes...you are right,” she whispered. “Take me away please. I don't like this place. Alayne was the only one who was good to me."
"You're safe now," he promised, swiftly striding away. "Don’t forget to keep quiet, though. Be still and I vow I will keep you from harm."
She burrowed her face in his shoulder as he traversed the gloomy streets of Ruma, taking the most remote course that he could. He had freed children from slavers before, but somehow this was different. Obviously all the other rescues he had performed had been back in
She looked at him with traces of awe. “Thank you, sir.”
“No need to call me sir. But you’re welcome.”
Grace studied him in the light of the almost dead fire and her brow furrowed. “You look familiar.”
“Think back,” he instructed with a slight smile. “You may have met me before.”
It took a few long moments, but she finally remembered. Her eyes widened in alarm. “You’re that man who bought Zoe last year!” She scooted away from him instantly. “But...but you cannot be him. He—you aren’t a good person. You are Elangsian. The Hunter is Aerilyan.”
“Want to hear a secret?” he asked conspiratorially.
“Yes,” she murmured slowly, still looking wary yet also inexorably curious.
Leaning down, he placed his mouth close to her ear and muttered under his breath, “I am the Hunter in disguise. That’s how I get information from the Elangsians. I am also the man who bought Zoe, but that was just part of my disguise. I freed her.” Or, rather, she ran away and freed herself, he thought with a trace of dark amusement.
“Oh! So you’re a spy,” she breathed with sudden comprehension.
“Right,” he winked at her.
He was startled as she threw her arms suddenly around his neck, her eyes meeting his with infinite trust. “I like you,” she whispered. “And I don't ever want to come back to this awful city again.”
He carefully wrapped his arms around her, picked her up, and cradled her small form against his chest. “After tonight,” he told her, “you never will be forced to.”
She quickly made herself comfortable on his lap. After a few moments, she had fallen asleep, enclosed in his embrace. Her breathing became slow and steady, and the intensely protective feeling he had toward her washed over him again, without warning. You deserve so much more than this city gave you, little one. But tonight you are free, and on my honor you will remain so until the day you go to meet Deus face-to-face.
posted by Emily Nelson at 6:33 AM
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