Chapter XXIX – Finale

ONE DAY LATER

Tancred examined his right hand carefully, holding it at such an angle that it caught the most of the sunlight that streamed through the window in the kitchen. Good. Only four days had passed since the assassin broke into his home and sliced his hand open, but already it was showing signs of improvement. The stitches had held excellently and there was no inflammation or oozing pus in or around the wound. It was still sore, especially after each time that he washed it as he just had finished doing, but overall he was pleased with the progress it had already made. He would have to continue favoring it for probably another couple weeks, but as long as it was not aggravated too much, it would be fine.

He threw on a cloak and left the house. Though it was a long walk to the marketplace, he had opted not to ride Chale. It would call even more attention to himself, and with the assassin still loose, attention was the last thing Tancred needed. Because of his injury, he had had to strap his wrist knife to his right arm, so that he could draw and use it with his left hand. His hip dagger and the long knife concealed in his boot had also been likewise repositioned.

Today he was supposed to meet Brysa’a maidservant in the market. He was prepared for confrontation, but he admitted that he did not expect much resistance from the young maid. Now was his chance to get some information for himself, which he was confident he could do without giving much—if any—back to Brysa’s mouthpiece.

It took about an hour to reach Ruma’s expansive market. Tancred paused at its edge and surveyed the place. It was crowded. The place was a mixture of sights, smells, and sounds, some pleasant and some best forgotten. A couple young girls jostled against Tancred as they hurried past, chattering about something that little concerned him. He did not care; he was focused on scanning the crowd. For her. For the golden-haired girl. Where would she have stationed herself for him to find her in the throng?

Execution Square. He frowned as he thought of the place, but it was a well known point in the marketplace and the most logical area for the princess to send her maid to contact him. He might as well start looking for her there.

He stepped forward into the crowd and began making his way through the boisterous hawkers and equally loud shoppers as they haggled over prices. Keeping a wary eye on everything around him, Tancred was suddenly aware of eyes on him. Casting a surreptitious glance to each side, he could not pick up on anything out of the ordinary. Could he be imagining the feeling? Somehow Tancred doubted it. He was not in the habit of construing needless feelings of danger.

But, if there was someone watching him, what could he do in this crowd? Tancred let his mind wander to that scenario for a moment, then gave himself a grim answer: Nothing. A dark image of the assassin flew into his mind and his unease deepened. He truly could do nothing if he were attacked here, and the notion was more than a little disturbing.

Passing a fruit stall, he ignored the eager calls of the vendors that followed in his wake. Since he was dressed as usual in the garb of a merchant, they saw him as a wealthy man, but he wasn’t interested in getting any apples today. Golden braid and blue cloak, he reminded himself as he passed an alley filled with crates and moved closer to Execution Square. Just where are you, little maid—?

His thought was cut off in mid-question at the deafening sound of a donkey braying directly behind him and to his right. Whirling, Tancred’s left hand sought his hip dagger and got a firm grip on its hilt but did not draw it. Both suspicion and faint amusement flooded his mind as he watched the crates he had just passed tumble for no apparent reason into the street—followed by a myriad of pigs, chickens, and _______. What the.... It would have been a comical situation if not for the questionable circumstances surrounding the incident. He scanned the street surrounding the animals, his muscles automatically tightening in preparation for action as people around him dashed around trying to avoid the charging, oddly terrified animals. It was sudden. Too sudden.

And then Tancred saw him.

Directly across the street, in clear view, stood the assassin. In the space of a second Tancred took in the man’s dark hair, his blue eyes that glittered even across the distance, his poised stance, and the knife that he held in his hand. “I will kill you, make no mistake.” Those were the words of the assassin when they last parted. Now he had come to finish the job.

The assassin threw the knife, but at the same moment two things happened that prevented it from finding its mark. First, a loud, vicious scream pierced the panic and confusion that the plummeting crates had started and a large flying form soared through the air over everyone’s heads, generating a powerful current of wind in its wake that slightly altered the knife’s vector. Second, Tancred threw himself forward and to the left, dropping into a roll across the dusty ground.

Thwack. The knife landed almost exactly where Tancred had just been standing.

Thud. Something much larger settled unto the platform of Execution Square, directly in front of where Tancred had rolled.

A strange hush had fallen over the people, leaving everything in an eerie silence. After getting to his feet Tancred sized up this newest addition to the fray and understood the sudden silence. It was a gryphon. Tancred tried to remember the last time he had seen one...it had been a while. This one was on the verge of adulthood, resplendent with tawny hide and golden feathers, and absolutely furious. The beast bellowed out another screech of anger and scanned the marketplace with fierce, keen eyes.

The creature’s shriek seemed to shake everyone in the market back to reality and confusion erupted again. Self-preservation instincts took over and the people began to flee. Women and children were pushed into alleys and out of the main thoroughfare as the gryphon charged off the platform and into the fray. The loose animals also scattered before their newest threat. Large pigs knocked over children and chickens flew erratically into everyone’s faces, spreading the already pervasive panic.

A wide-eyed man ran up to Tancred and yelled, “If you have any weapons, draw them! We must kill the creature before he kills us!”

“Check the weapon smith’s shop,” Tancred instructed, his years of combat training taking over and lending calmness to his attitude and words. “But likely you’d be best off getting out of here. If anyone you know is around, find them and take them elsewhere.”

With a nervous twitch to his movements, the man scampered off, only too happy to heed Tancred’s instruct to leave. By now the gryphon had charged down the street and Tancred tracked him as he took off into the air again, beating the air with his huge wings and flying unevenly down the length of the market. Tancred’s gaze flicked ahead of the creature as he tried to figure out where he was heading.

He blinked. The gryphon was obviously heading toward the meat shop, but it wasn’t that that had arrested his attention. A slender figure cowered close to the ground at the shop’s opening, seeming to be sheltering the form of a small child. Her golden braid caught Tancred’s eye, standing out brightly against the deep blue of her cloak.

Before his mind had even finished assimilating all the facts, Tancred’s body had kicked in. He sprinted across the market, honed in on Brysa’s maid and the child, whom Tancred realized was a young boy. “Out of my way!” he yelled as he streaked through the crowd, shoving his way past the fleeing women and men who were still trying to figure out what to do.

The gryphon screamed right overhead but Tancred ignored it and pushed himself even faster. He reached the maid and boy and threw himself over them, shielding their bodies as the gryphon descended. “Lie flat!” he ordered them tersely, holding his body tautly above them so that he didn’t crush them with all his weight. His right wrist screamed at the unexpected stress on its wound but Tancred couldn’t afford to pay attention to it then. He caught the maid’s frightened glance as she straightened her legs and pulled the boy’s head down to the ground. Tancred lowered himself as far as he could over them, supporting his weight on his arms, and closed his eyes in anticipation of the gryphon’s talons.

He felt them pass inches from his back, and his cloak flapped in the forceful wind created by the creature’s huge wings. The gryphon shot straight up in the sky and Tancred rolled off the young woman and boy into a crouching position, relieving his wrist of his weight. Pain throbbed from the wound; it pulsed out from the half-healed gash and washed up his forearm. He swiftly glanced at his wrist and grimaced. Several of the stitches were broken and fresh blood oozed out of the cut.

“Maglynar!” he heard the assassin shout above the noise of the crowd.

Tancred wondered who Maglynar was but did not allow the thought to sidetrack him. One quick glance at the assassin showed that his attention was currently riveted on the gryphon, which gave Tancred a little bit of time.

He looked at the two people still lying on the ground beside him. The maid’s eyes were wide and rimmed with fear, but she still had placed a protective arm over the crying little boy and seemed to be trying to give him comfort—though she obviously needed it as much as he did. Tancred placed a reassuring hand on her shoulder as he squinted up at the sky and traced the gryphon’s aerial maneuvers. He had swooped around and seemed to be coming back toward them. Forcing himself to be calm, he said, “It’s all right. Just stay behind me and do exactly what I tell you.”

“Thank you, sir,” the young woman said in a shaky voice.

Tancred’s eyes shifted toward the boy, who had tears streaked on his dirty cheeks. The gryphon was approaching again; he had to distract the boy’s attention. “Shh,” he said kindly. “What’s your name?”

“Kale,” he whimpered, his black eyes bright and terrified. They widened as the gryphon passed over their heads and screeched.

“It’s all right,” Tancred said firmly, leveling his powerful gaze at Kale. “Keep looking at me. You’re going to be fine, Kale.”

A moment later he shifted his eyes to the sky again and slowly rose from his crouching position. The gryphon had passed over them and was closer to the assassin. In fact, he appeared to be looking right at the assassin as he flapped his wings to keep his bulk in a semi-hovering position. Then, just as suddenly as he had appeared, the great creature pivoted in the sky and flew away with one last hoarse, croaking call. Tancred’s brow furrowed. He wasn’t sure why the creature left, but he had a feeling it had something to do with the assassin. Was the gryphon the blue-eyed man’s pet, perhaps? And maybe he named the creature...Maglynar? postulated Tancred.

He turned back to the maidservant and Kale, trying to appear reassuring even as he felt the assassin’s attention shift from the gryphon to he himself. He was running out of time. He extended his good hand to the young woman and instructed in a low voice, “Stay close to me.”

Nodding, she slipped her hand into his and stood up. Tancred reached down and scooped up the boy next, feeling the assassin’s eyes on him all the while. Feigning calmness, he set Kale on his feet and turned around to face the man, deliberately placing himself in front of Kale and Brysa’s maidservant, who were both whispering fearfully together. Tancred silenced the two with a hand motion that jolted fresh pain up his arm, and looked up.

Assassin.

Again, the man was standing there, looking at Tancred but not into his eyes. Slowly the man reached toward his belt and pulled out a spare dagger; his other one was still buried in the dirt at the other end of the marketplace. A strange sort of peaceful calmness settled across Tancred’s shoulders, giving him the strength to face the man firmly. All the assassin had to do was throw the knife. Throw it and Tancred’s life would be over. Thoughts and regrets flew through his head, but at the same time the peace overcame them and reassured him. This is right. This is your place. Between them, and him.

It was true. He was the Hunter. The hidden protector of the Aerilyan people. They did not know who he was on sight, nor did he want them too. His job was simply to protect the innocent from their enemies. Right now, the assassin was the enemy and the maidservant and Kale were the innocent. Tancred could not think of a more appropriate place for the Hunter to be but confronting death and upholding the cause of the guiltless.

To his surprise, the assassin’s harsh stare faltered even as he fingered his knife. He glanced swiftly to his left but Tancred did not look over to see what the man was scrutinizing. His focus remained directly on the assassin.

Is this it, Deus? he quietly prayed. I’m ready. He heard the maid muttering a prayer behind him and Kale’s quiet gasps as he cried. Calmness swathed him. I’m ready.

Then the assassin’s eyes met Tancred’s. Those blue eyes, so full of emotion that Tancred typically would not have associated with a trained killer. Now, they seemed filled with tortured anger and pain. Tancred stood still, attuned to the assassin’s struggle. Something about this man was strange; almost...familiar.

Understanding dawned, and Tancred’s heart throbbed. The assassin was strong and capable, skilled and smart. He was determined, focused, a leader. This man who had tried three times now to murder the Hunter, was not so very different than the Hunter himself. Tancred could only guess at the path that had taken that man down the path of a killer, twisting him into the individual of hate, anger, and regret that he was now.

The assassin’s gaze altered. It flicked to the left again, and then swerved back to Tancred. His grip on the dagger relaxed just a little. But in that second, Tancred knew that everything had changed.

He gave Tancred a nod; small, but still noticeable. Tancred slowly dipped his own head at the dark-haired killer, shock and disbelief simultaneously sweeping through him as he realized what was happening. The assassin turned his back to Tancred and began walking away. In a matter of seconds, he had left the market and was out of Tancred’s sight. Tancred stood there for a moment more, feeling like a statue as everyone around him began moving again and he just remained frozen in place.

It was over.

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The next fifteen minutes were spent searching through the remaining chaos of the market for Kale’s mother. Tancred carried the boy on his left arm, the uninjured one, so that Kale could scan the crowd as easily as Tancred. He squealed when he spotted her and began enthusiastically bouncing up and down.

After the boy was restored to the woman, who sobbed out her gratitude to Tancred and offered to pay him for his kindness—a proposition he refused—Tancred turned around and looked gravely down at his quiet shadow. The golden-haired girl with earnest blue eyes had followed him closely as they searched for Kale’s mother, neither speaking to him nor slipping unobtrusively away into the crowd. It was clear she knew he was the man she had been sent to speak to.

“Come,” he commanded in a low tone.

She followed him silently into a narrow alleyway. A couple abandoned boxes sat there and Tancred offered her a seat, which she tentatively took. She opened her mouth to begin, but he beat her to it.

“What does Brysa want?”

Surprise darted across her face, telling him he had asked the right question to thrown her off balance. “How did you know she sent me?” she breathed.

“I have my ways. What is your name?”

“Rebekka...of Aerilya.”

Aerilya? She’s one of us? His gaze locked with hers and he unmercifully probed their transparent blue depths to see if she spoke the truth. “You were captured?” he asked after a long moment.

“Just two days before Zoe was.”

His eyes narrowed. He had to be careful. This could all be a setup. “Zoe?” He feigned disinterest.

“Yes.” Faint uncertainty flickered across her expression. She had probably been told by the princess that he would jump at information about Zoe.

Well, he wasn’t jumping, and that was bewildering her. Guess again, he silently told Brysa. It would be a sorry day that he groveled for information like a dog.

“You’re Cormac Alstair, right?” Rebekka asked at length, choosing a new tact.

“I am,” he nodded.

Her gaze dropped from his unswerving one and fastened on his injured wrist, which was smeared with blood. “You’re injured,” she said with soft distress touching her voice. She stood and moved closer. “May I?”

He nodded and slowly raised his hand. A moment later he felt her cool fingers gently probing the tender swollen skin. “You opened the wound again,” she stated. “It should be cleaned and re-stitched immediately. Infection will set in otherwise.”

“Leave that to me,” he said quietly, though he knew the truth of her words.

She shook her head, her eyes darting back to him. She looked almost guilty at her refusal. “No, sir,” she replied, swallowing hard. “You saved my life and that little boy’s just a few minutes ago. Taking care of your injury is the least I can do to repay you.”

He half-smiled, touched by her kindness but unmoved. “I don’t require repayment.”

“Please, sir, let me do what I can.”

“And where would you get thread, needle, and clean water?”

“We are a dozen paces from Ruma’s marketplace. Surely there is someone selling such things.”

Amused yet impressed by her insistence, he smiled. “Very well.”

Twenty minutes later they were back in the alley and Rebekka was stitching up his wound. Tancred set his teeth and focused on blocking out the pain. He watched Rebekka’s face, which was tight with concentration. Absently, she murmured out, “You are not a merchant, are you.”

He said nothing. She paused her work for a moment and her eyes flicked up to meet his. A knowing look flashed across her features, which he could easily read like an open book. “No merchant would know how to handle a situation like the one in the market.”

“How do you know that? Perhaps I’m an unusually skilled merchant?” he said, cocking a brow as he tested her.

“You’re not a merchant.” She returned to her stitching. “You’re the Hunter.”

He expertly masked his alarm as his mind began churning. Either Brysa knew a lot more than Tancred thought she did or this girl was way smarter than he originally thought. “That’s quite an interesting claim,” he said in a careless tone.

“It wasn’t too hard to figure out. Zoe and I were separated at the slave market here in Ruma, but I knew she wanted to escape and find the Hunter to gain his assistance. It’s not too difficult to see that she did manage to escape her master, found the Hunter in Mairbrac, and came back here in his company on some sort of mission. It makes sense to me that you are, therefore, the Hunter.”

“Unless I was the one who originally bought Zoe many months ago at the slave market here in Ruma,” countered Tancred. “What if I told you that that she never escaped, but merely has been my slave for all these months?”

Rebekka looked at him again, her brow furrowed. “That’s not possible,” she protested, but her voice was unsure. “She cannot have been in captivity here in Ruma for all those months.”

“Why not?”

“She’d be dead,” Rebekka stated. “She’d have gone mad and killed herself. Not to mention she would hate you with everything in her.”

“Fascinating theory,” he said dryly. “Because I am the man who bought her.”

Confused, Rebekka just stared. “But...I thought...”

“What has Zoe told you about me?”

“Well...” she paused and appeared to be collecting her thoughts. “She is stubbornly bent on protecting you. She refuses to give up any information to Brysa on your whereabouts. Unfortunately the princess has other resources. That’s how she found your house and why I am here today to speak with you.”

Tancred found it more than a little interesting that Zoe was so adamantly protecting him. Why? he wondered, but did not ask. Now was not the time.

“You are a spy,” whispered Rebekka. “I’m certain of it.”

He just stared unblinkingly at her.

“I also know you’re the Hunter. I don’t care if you don’t tell me; I know deep within me it’s true.” She finished stitching up his wound in silence, expertly knotting off the thread. “Thank you for everything you’ve done for Aerilya, but really, you must leave this city.”

He did not refute her previous statements about him being the Hunter, instead focusing on her latter comment about him leaving. “Why?”

“Why am I telling you this?” she laughed softly. She interpreted his question differently than he had meant, but he did not stop her. “I may be a slave here, and I have grown to sympathize deeply with the princess of Elangsia. But my heart lies far away in Aerilya. The Hunter has long been a symbol of something that Elangsia cannot conquer. I will not see that hope destroyed.” She ended in a whisper that was laced with both sadness and determination.

“Why do you think it would be destroyed?”

“Too many people suspect you,” she said, looked up at him with a haunted expression. “Lieutenant Montel is mistrustful, Princess Brysa is far too curious, even the king has heard your name mentioned. If you stay any longer, you will die.”

He shook his head. “You haven’t figured out yet, have you.”

“Figured what out?”

“That I won’t be leaving without Zoe.”

“Why did you bring her with you in the first place?”

He laughed tersely. “She invited herself along.”

“Why?”

“For you.” Rebekka’s eyebrows rose and he continued, “And for Grace, Tryna, and Marisa.”

“Oh. I didn’t realize...” her voice trailed off as she processed this new information.

“How is she?”

“Fine. At first I worried for her. She is so full of passion and fire; I feared she’d incinerate herself before long.” Rebekka paused and gave him a wan smile. “Then when her arm was healed, she changed.”

“Her arm was healed?” Tancred’s attention sharpened.

“It had to have been Deus,” Rebekka said softly. “She could hardly use her right side and now it’s better than new.”

Thank You, Tancred prayed quickly but fervently. “What do you mean that she is changed?”

“She’s still herself, the same Zoe, but there’s a sort of...oh, contentment beneath it all. She’s not as stir-crazy or angry. I think she finally found Deus. She’s slowly beginning to rely on Him.”

Well, that was and unexpected but definitely welcome turn of events. Tancred tried to keep a lid on the pleasure he felt at the revelation. Then he wondered why he felt so much pleasure, and wasn’t sure he liked what he found. Now’s not the time to think of that, he told himself. Instead, he looked back at Rebekka and said, “I have to get her out of there. While we’re at it, we might as well get you too.”

She nodded slowly. “It’s probably doable,” she said quietly. “Brysa trusts me. I don’t want to betray her confidence, but...”

“But you want to be free,” Tancred finished for her. She sighed and nodded. “Good. Is there any way of getting you and Zoe out of the palace walls, or do I need to devise a way to get in?”

“We need to bring Tryna too.”

“Tryna is there as well?”

“Yes. She works in the kitchens.”

Tancred leaned back and stared up at the sliver of blue sky he could see through the top of the alleyway, considering. Suddenly his job had just gone from freeing one girl to getting three out of the palace. At least now he knew Zoe was back to full physical capabilities, so he did not have to worry about that. As for Tryna and Rebekka.... He frowned. Rebekka looked delicate. He doubted she would be able to withstand arduous travel, which could be a problem; and he had no idea about Tryna’s physical capacity.

“I might be able to get all three of us out of the castle walls,” Rebekka said slowly, responding to his earlier question. “But it would be very difficult.”

“Can it be done?” he asked pointedly. “Everything about this will be difficult. I just need to know if there is even the possibility of it working out.”

She slowly nodded. That was all the confirmation he needed.

“What about tomorrow night? Can you get out then?” Tomorrow night would be pushing it, but he saw little point in waiting any longer than they had to.

She nervously fingered the bottom of her braid. “At night?”

“Yes. Darkness will provide a necessary cover.”

“What about the guardsmen at the gates?”

“Leave them to me,” he said quietly. “If the three of you can get out of the palace and into the courtyard without being seen, I will be close at hand to get you out the rest of the way.”

“Not through the main gates, though,” she said quickly, growing more animated as she latched unto the idea. “There’s a small postern gate, close to the gardens. It’s unguarded, too.”

“What section of the surrounding wall?”

She told him, and he nodded. “Be there at midnight,” he instructed, rising to his feet. “I will prepare for you all. Understood?”

“Midnight, at the postern gate,” she repeated in a whisper, also standing. “We’ll be there.” He nodded and turned to leave when she stopped him. “Wait!”

“What is it?” he asked, half-turning back.

“I must tell something to Brysa or she will wonder what I have been doing all this time.”

“Tell her you were harassed by a gryphon, and that I told you I was just a merchant and refused to give you any more information.” He smiled tightly, amused. “All of it will be true.”

She nodded in agreement and he walked away without looking back, his mind beginning to churn. He had a lot to process, arrange, and prepare. Tomorrow night they would be leaving Ruma.

His smile slowly faded and was replaced by grimness. Deus be with us all.