Chapter XXXII - Tension

Wow, I'm on a role! :) I hope you are liking the story as it unfolds. Thank you to those who have commented on it, as well. I appreciate it. Let me know what you think of this one too, okay?

~Emily "Firebrand"

Chapter Thirty Two: Tension

TWO YEARS, FIVE MONTHS

Tancred allowed himself to smile as he trotted down the dirt road on Chale. The golden bay’s muscles were quivering with eagerness as his regal head turned from right to left, taking in the wide expanses around them; the lack of high stone ramparts; the freedom from houses and shops and buildings. Even though it had been a week since they had been enclosed in Ruma’s walls, freedom still felt intoxicating.

Slowly, the midmorning sun climbed ever higher, adding warmth to the cool autumn air. Seven days earlier, Ruma’s forbidding parapets had faded behind copses of trees and slowly sank deeper into the plains the further away the foursome traveled. All of them had been grateful in their own ways to see it disappear.

Tancred pulled back on Chale’s reins, and the stallion obediently came to a halt. Swinging off the horse, Tancred discarded his long cloak and slung it around Rebekka’s shoulders, giving her an extra layer of warmth. Without saying a word, he led her over to Chale. Before she could protest, he lifted her unto the stallion’s back. The young woman looked at him with startled eyes as she grabbed the horn of the saddle to keep from falling.

“You’re tired,” Tancred explained mildly as he walked to Chale’s head but did not grab the reins. “Take care to keep that cloak wrapped closely around you. You’re going to get sick if you’re not careful.”

“Thank you,” Rebekka replied, meekly swathing her petite body with his large cloak. “But you’ve only been riding for an hour or so and need the rest. You’ve let me ride more than Tryna or Zoe and—”

“And you are not as strong as they,” he said firmly. “You need to ride more than any of us do. Come; waste no more time. You know Chale will be gentle to you.”

The stallion could sense the tentativeness of his rider and, true to Tancred’s word, Chale was well-mannered and placid for Rebekka. Tancred was not surprised. The stallion seemed to have a soft spot for Rebekka. Zoe and Tryna did not say anything throughout the whole exchange between Tancred and Rebekka, but he sensed their quiet approval when he fell in step with Zoe on the road.

“Once the Hunter, always the Hunter, hmm?” murmured Zoe so that Rebekka and Tryna could not hear. She glanced over at him with a half-smile.

“It’s in my blood,” he told her with a shrug.

She laughed softly but did not reply.

By nightfall, they had covered yet another good portion of the countryside. Tancred selected a promising looking thicket and led them toward it. As soon as they found a glade amongst the trees and foliage that would be adequate for them and the horses, he turned to Rebekka. By now the young woman was so tired she was almost falling off Chale. Tancred had to pry her hands loose from the saddle, which she was gripped with all her fading strength even as she was falling asleep. He set her down next to the fire Zoe had immediately started to build. Rebekka folded her hands under her cheek and managed a faint smile at him before her eyelids drifted shut and she fell asleep.

“She’s exhausted,” said Tryna grimly and rather unnecessarily from her position across the tiny glade. Tancred coolly met her eyes; a moment later, the woman dropped her gaze and mumbled, “I’m sorry, I did not mean to sound negative. She’s naturally weak.”

“She actually has a lot of stamina,” countered Zoe after she blew gently on the tiny sparks she had managed to generate with two pieces of flint she had dug out of Tancred’s pack. Eyes trained on fire she was kindling, she continued, “She has been under a great deal of stress. Remember, she was closer to the princess than you or I were. She’s been with Brysa for a long time now. I think it was more emotionally difficult for Rebekka to leave the palace because of that.”

Tryna nodded and said something in reply, but Tancred was not paying attention to her any longer. He watched as Zoe smiled with faint triumph when a single blue-hued flame shot up and licked the edges of the twigs she had painstakingly stacked in place. Soon it grew larger and began producing the warmth they would need when the cold of night struck. Zoe continued adding twigs, then sticks, and finally she rummaged around the camp and brought back a couple large logs that she promptly fed to the hungry flames.

Tancred wondered what she was thinking. She had not said very much when they were on the road, despite the fact that they had marched side-by-side almost for most of the day. In fact, if he was not mistaken, she had gone out of her way to avoid talking to him—all week long. When she had spoken directly to him, a rare occurrence, it was with an odd mixture of her old stubborn sarcasm and a new, strange ambiguity that was completely out of character for her.

Her green eyes lifted from where they were trained on the fire and met his steady gaze. Again he easily picked out the contrasting unruliness and uncertainty. What did it mean?

He intended to find out. Soon.

As if she could read his intentions and they disturbed her, Zoe looked away and rose from her crouch. “There’s still some of that bread Tryna grabbed from the kitchens before she left.”

“Feasting out of Elangsia’s royal pantry,” Tancred quipped, amused.

Tryna smiled. “I don’t know if stale bread is exactly a feast, but yes, we are profiting from them; a fact they don’t know and certainly would resent.”

Ten minutes later the bread was consumed and Tryna promptly lay down at Rebekka’s side. “When do we leave tomorrow?” she asked quietly.

“I’ll wake you and Rebekka at dawn,” Zoe said softly.

“If we keep up this pace, we’ll be at Mairbrac by midday tomorrow,” added Tancred.

“I can only hope,” Tryna murmured, settling down and wrapping her cloak around herself.

Silence fell, broken only by the songs of a nearby cricket and the occasional pop of sparks in the fire. Zoe and Tancred each remained where they were sitting; at least five feet of empty air separated them. He surreptitiously glanced at her and saw that she stared at the flames as if her life depended on it.

Tryna’s breath turned steady, matching Rebekka’s in the rhythm of sleep. Zoe stirred a little and asked, still without looking at him, “You want first or second watch tonight?”

With Jaedon absent and no one else offering to help but Zoe, Tancred had decided at the beginning of the week that he would not refuse her assistance. “Either; take whichever you prefer.”

She kept sitting there, the fire’s radiance highlighting her forehead, cheekbones, and lips, while also adding a copper sheen to her unbound hair. It reminded him of her odd reaction to his jesting comment the night they departed Ruma. He called her firebrand. It had been innocently enough uttered. Obviously, she had not taken the playful jab as such.

He continued studying her, again noted the changes in her physical appearance. The weeks she had spent in the palace had altered her; her face did not have the perpetual hardness it had worn before. A sort of calm maturity had replaced that, though she still retained strong traces of her inherently prideful and independent nature.

Now, judging by her furrowed brow and the tense set of her shoulders, she was inwardly battling something. Tancred felt an uncanny urge to ask her what it was; what she struggled with so willfully. But a quiet urge at the back of his mind pressed in insistently: Wait, it said.

Wait? For what?

Wait.

A full minute passed before, quite suddenly, he was pinned with her sharp green gaze. He held his ground, meeting her eyes firmly but unthreateningly. He was unprepared for what he was faced with: she was not angry or frustrated—not even defiant.

Instead, anguish as deep as the sea and as black as a starless night shone from her eyes. Concern rose in him and he could not stop himself. “Zoe, what—”

She stopped him by violently shaking her head. “No!” she commanded in a hard whisper. Her harsh tone violently contradicted the pleading in her gaze, a mixture he found highly disturbing. “No, Tancred. Don’t ask me.”

He looked at her gravely. It went against his nature to leave her in obvious pain, without even trying to help. But the message in her eyes was as clear and cold as ice: Leave it be. She stared at him and whispered, “Please, Tancred. I...it’s not time.”

Not fully understanding her words but realizing he could not force her to open up to him, he assented with a curt nod of his head. Zoe exhaled and looked back toward the fire, seeming oddly relieved. Zoe, why can you not trust me, even after everything we’ve been through?

“All week we haven’t had a chance to speak without other listening ears,” she murmured, deftly changing the subject. “Tell me about the assassin now.”

His brows rose. She was right; he had not yet told her all the details of the attacks and what had ultimately come of it. Shifting his train of thought, he forced himself to remember where it all had started. Unconsciously he opened and closed his right hand, exercising the muscles that had been injured in the assassin’s second attack. Rebekka had insisted on tending the wound each night since they left Ruma, and just the previous evening she had removed the stitches. It had almost completely healed, though he had of course acquired a new scar from the ordeal.

“It started the night you were taken to the Elangsian palace,” he began in a quiet, steady voice. “Jaedon and I were returning from the princess’s betrothal ceremony. I was upset because you had been captured by Montel, so my judgment was clouded. The details are hard to remember because it was dark and I was caught so off-guard, but a cloaked figure jumped out of an alley and threw a knife at me.” Tancred had thought of it a hundred times but he still could not believe the man had missed him. Now, after having encountering the assassin two times more, he realized how skilled the man was. Missing Tancred on an easy shot like that was just...odd.

“Obviously he didn’t hit you,” Zoe prompted him.

He smiled humorously. “No. I still have the dagger he threw, though.”

“May I see it?”

Tancred shrugged and pulled it out of the sheath at his belt. He had recently taken to carrying the dagger on his person. It was a nice weapon and he liked it, despite its dubious origin. As he passed it handled first to Zoe, he watched her face. She surveyed it carefully, but her expression was difficult to read in the wavering light.

After a moment she exhaled and handed it back. A troubled look flashed across her face, clear and easy to see this time.

“What is it?”

“It just looked...a little familiar for a moment,” she whispered hoarsely. “It’s nothing.”

“Familiar from where?” pressed Tancred.

Zoe seared him with an unexpectedly lethal glare, but her face was pale and he knew something was very wrong. “I said it’s nothing.”

Refusing to back down, he steadily held her gaze. “If you know where the blade is from, I expect you to tell me.”

“I don’t know where it’s from. It just reminded me of something from my childhood,” she said bluntly, her eyes flashing defensively. “It has the same basic design as the weapons I trained with when I was young—”

“You’re avoiding the truth,” he objected, his voice firm. “Reminding you of a weapon you trained with as a child won’t drain the blood from your face or place anger in your eyes. What are you hiding? What is wrong?”

Darkness swept over her features and she snapped, “Stop it, Tancred! Just...stop!”

“Why should I?” he challenged. “From your reaction, I could almost think you were associated with the assassin and were protecting him.”

“As if!”

“Well?”

“I’m not associated with the assassin,” she told him angrily. “Satisfied?”

No, not really, he thought with equal anger, but did not say anything. Something was definitely off about her reaction, but he couldn’t put his finger on what it was. More than ever he felt the desire to know who exactly Zoe was and what had happened in her past to form her character today. What family had she once had? He knew of an Aiden and Ilara, but was there more? Where was she from? What circumstances had brought her to Aerilya?

He resolutely pushed past the longing to ask her about that and evenly continued. “After that, though I kept a sharp eye out for the assassin, nothing unusual happened until after we freed Grace.”

Zoe nodded, seeming to have calmed down. He had already related the details of that to her, so he skipped the account and moved on. “Then, the night after Jaedon left Ruma with Grace, I woke up to find the assassin in my house.”

“In the house?” she repeated with shock.

“Yes. After that we engaged in a clash of blades and wits. It went on for a long time, and almost ended ill for me.” He stared off, remembering. “It ended after a mysterious person threw a pot into the wall and distracted the assassin for a moment.”

Zoe laughed disbelievingly. “Someone threw a pot? Did you not see who it was?”

“No. Nothing was visible but the edge of his cloak as he, or she,” he amended, “left his or her position in the doorway. Regardless, the distraction gave me enough time to get back to my sword and face the assassin. I fully expected him to continue fighting.”

“But...he didn’t?” guessed Zoe cautiously.

Tancred shook his head. “No. He mentioned my sister Kristalyn to me in order to throw my concentration off,” he said in a rough voice, still furious at the memory. “Somehow he knew her name. I demanded to know what he knew of my sister, and then—he just quit.”

Zoe looked perplexed. “He stopped?”

“Yes. I have no idea why.” Tancred shrugged and raised his almost-healed hand. “Anyway, that’s where I got this wound from. His sword raked me.”

Her eyebrows rose. “Ouch.”

“A few days after that, Rebekka carried Brysa’s note to my house and slipped it under my door. I met Rebekka as planned in the marketplace. The assassin was there again. It would not have been too difficult to either engage him or evade him, if it weren’t for the gryphon.”

“The gryphon,” Zoe repeated, nodding her head. “Rebekka told me of him. I’ve only seen one once, and that was a long time ago. What was he like?”

“Big, loud, and angry,” he said, smiling wryly. “He was large, but not quite mature yet. He was swooping in to attack Rebekka and a little boy named Kale. I couldn’t leave them, so...” he shrugged. He never liked recounting his experiences saving people.

“So you stayed and braved the assassin in order to save them,” stated Zoe.

He said nothing.

She cocked her head at him and repeated what she had said earlier out on the road: “Once the Hunter, always the Hunter.”

“It’s in my blood,” he quoted his earlier words too, leveling his partially amused gaze on her.

She just laughed and shook her head at him. It was good to hear her laugh. By nature she was distrustful and self-protective—something that he could understand to some extent, but it vastly inhibited her ability to genuinely enjoy herself.

“So how did it end? Is the assassin still around?” she asked at length.

The fire snapped noisily and he looked away. “It was odd,” he said thoughtfully. “Everything about the encounters with him was strange, but how it ended was strangest of all. The assassin just looked at me for a long moment. We were in the market; he had a knife in his hand and we both knew he could just flick it forward and kill me. But something held him back; perhaps a regret, or longing of some sort?” Tancred shook his head, frustrated. “It was incredibly hard to read him. All that I know is we both silently realized that it was over.”

It was Zoe’s turn to be quiet. After a long time she stirred and inquired softly, “What was he like? Hardened, cruel-looking? Who do you think sent him?”

“Ricald,” Tancred stated with certainty. “He’s the most logical one to send an assassin after me. I don’t know how he or the assassin ultimately tracked me down, but it really doesn’t matter right now. As for the assassin himself, there was something about him that was extremely strange. He was consumed by hate, but somewhere deep within him I could swear there was...” he paused before finishing simply, “goodness.”

“How much does Jaedon know of these happenings?”

“Nothing except what happened during the first attack. He was gone before the second occurred.”

“What did you have to say to get him to leave you? I never imagined he would allow himself to leave you there.”

“Between my logic and Grace’s sweetness, he realized he had to go. She could not remain in the city. There would be too much chance of her being spotted and since I was already under suspicion it would have completely ruined my disguise. And Jaedon already understood I would not leave Ruma to take her back to Mairbrac.”

“But why did you not go with them back to Aerilya?” asked Zoe curiously.

Tancred studied her for a moment without replying, half-amused. She really doesn’t know. Doesn’t even suspect, yet.

Her eyebrows rose and a guarded expression crossed her face. “Why do you look like you want to laugh at me?”

“No reason,” he replied, a lazy grin twitching at the corners of his mouth. “I stayed in Ruma to figure out how to rescue you.”

She chuckled softly and looked back at the fire. “You never would have been able to with all the guards at the palace, had you not met Rebekka through Brysa and arranged it with an insider. You should have known that much,” she reprimanded.

“I did know that much and more,” he countered. “I was there the night you were taken.”

Zoe paused, and her face grew still. “You are correct,” she breathed at last. “The night of Brysa’s engagement ceremony. You were standing in the shadows. I had forgotten.”

Tancred’s lips twisted humorlessly. “That was a very bad night,” he muttered. “Leaving you there was not exactly my favorite decision.”

“I might have been angry at you, had I not been mostly unconscious.”

“Yes.” He frowned. “How were you injured?”

“Montel gouged my shoulder,” she grimaced, “with my own weapon, no less. I had a bit of a skirmish with him at the Ricald’s manor. Obviously he won.”

Anger flashed through Tancred and his brow lowered. “The swine.”

“Yes, that describes him rather accurately,” she agreed, her eyes narrowing.

“So, your arm...it was healed?”

She smiled quietly. “Deus healed it.”

Miraculous healings were rare, but certainly not unheard of. Again, Tancred wondered what plan Deus had for the young woman sitting in front of the fire. No doubt Zoe did not even realize what potential she had for serving the Unseen One. She had strength, determination, and courage. If she submitted that all to Deus—which indeed she seemed to have done—He could use her in ways she could never have imagined even in her wildest dreams.

Abruptly, she wrapped her cloak closely around herself and rose to her feet. “I’d best sleep now,” she whispered, moving to the other side of the fire beside Rebekka and Tryna. “I’ll take second watch.”

“As you wish,” he nodded.

She silently lay down and all was still. The fire snapped loudly and tinged the air with the sweet smell of burning pine. Tancred mulled over their conversation, ideas and thoughts and wonderings churning through his mind in a tumultuous way that was too intricate to easily sort through.

With a sigh, he changed his train of thought. Tomorrow they would reach the Aerilyan border. He wondered what would await him. When he and the women had left Ruma, the Elangsian army had been almost ready to march. Likely they would be marching on Aerilya any day now, if they had not already left. If Jaedon had done his job, which Tancred knew nothing but death could keep the dedicated warrior from, King Jaeger of Aerilya had already been alerted of the coming attack and would have his troops ready. I’ll gather my own men and join them with the king’s, he thought. The idea of war was not a pleasant one, but at the same time Tancred was looking forward to seeing his men again as they prepared for the coming chaos. He had left them in the care of Warrick and Shyla, capable hands indeed, but he enjoyed being around them and cultivating the relationships he had formed with them all.

He wished he knew where Kris was. It was incredibly frustrating not knowing what was happening with her. An image of his sister, younger by a year, flashed through his mind and he had to smile. Fiery, gentle, calm, loyal, and beautiful were just a few of the words that described Kristalyn Ralyn. She was one of Tancred’s most trusted friends. Not even time and space could break the bond between them...which was just another reason that he worried so much about her. Losing their father had been bad enough. Losing Kris would nearly kill him.

Uncomfortable with the thought, he opened his eyes and looked across the fire’s embers to the three slumbering women under his protection. Rebekka and Tryna must be sent to safety as soon as we reach the shelter of Mairbrac, he mused. They would be nothing but a liability in a battle.

Zoe would not leave. He would not ask her to go to safety because he knew it would be pointless. And part of him did not want her to leave. His brow creased at that sudden thought. When had that changed? When had he started to care?

He stopped cold, a sinking feeling taking hold and twisting something in his gut. I don’t even know her surname and I care for her a whole lot more than I ought to, he thought cynically. What is wrong with this setting?

Disgusted, he moved closer to the fire and poked at it with a stick. Later he could deal with the ramifications of his traitorous feelings. Until then, he had to focus completely on the coming battle. Both in the lead-up to the confrontation with Elangsia and during the battle itself he would be looked to as a primary leader for Aerilya. He had to be ready for the pressures of the coming weeks. He knew he could not do it alone.

I fly only on the wings of Your strength, Christus.

The Hunter stared up through the tangled branches above his head and sought for a sight of the stars and the gentle golden-red harvest moon.