Bitter Winter, page 19
part #5 of Ilyon Chronicles Series
Jace closed his eyes and waited for the blade to pierce his chest or cut his throat. He focused his mind on Elôm but couldn’t shake the regret that gripped him. This was not how he wanted to meet his King—not as a result of his own folly. He would rather have died for his beliefs, but these men probably didn’t even know he was a follower of Elôm. To them, he was just a failed assassin. Instead of dying openly for his faith, he would die alone in an alleyway because of his lack of faith. I am so sorry, Elôm. I failed You.
He sensed the nearness of his killer and bit down, swallowing against the choking lump in his throat. I don’t want to die like this.
Something hissed in the air and one of the men grunted and launched into a string of curses. Jace opened his eyes. His killer was hunched over with an arrow through his arm.
“Unhand him.”
Jace could have sunk to his knees in relief at the sound of Aaron’s voice. He looked to the entrance of the alley. Aaron stood, bow drawn with another waiting arrow aimed at one of Jace’s captors. Holden and Timothy flanked him, swords in hand.
No one moved for a moment.
“I said, let him go,” Aaron commanded, “unless you want to end up like your friend.” He nodded slightly at the other man who clutched his arm and glared at Aaron. “I’m not likely to miss at this range.”
Slowly, the men’s holds loosened on Jace’s arms.
“Good, now step away.”
They obeyed, and Aaron followed their movements with his bow.
Jace sagged against the wall as the truth washed over him. He wasn’t going to die. Thank You! Taking a long breath, he pushed away from the cold stone and walked toward his friends. His steps wobbled, and Holden grabbed his arm as he drew near.
“Are you all right?”
Jace didn’t answer, a bit out of breath just from the few steps he had taken.
Realization dawned in Holden’s stormy expression. “You’re sick.”
Jace nodded slowly and winced at the pain it caused. He raised his hand to the back of his head. His hair was matted, and when he pulled his hand away, blood coated his fingers.
“Let me see.” Holden moved around behind him, and Jace bent his head as he inspected the wound.
“You’ve got a nasty gash.” He took hold of Jace’s arm again. “We need to get you back.”
He guided Jace out of the alley, Aaron and Timothy guarding their backs and making sure the men didn’t follow. As they rounded the corner, thoughts of Avery and his uncle crashed in. Jace froze. His brain must really be muddled since he hadn’t thought of them sooner. By now, Baron Reynold could be dragging his nephew to Davira and certain death.
“What is it?” Holden asked.
“We need to get to Avery now.” Jace stepped forward, but Holden stopped him.
“You’re in no condition to go anywhere.”
Jace turned to him and the others. “Avery’s uncle knows where he is. They’re on their way to get him right now. If we don’t stop them, he’ll be killed or taken to Davira.” He shuddered to think of what horrors she would inflict on Avery for killing her father. What Jace had faced in Auréa’s dungeon would be nothing compared. He looked Holden in the eyes. “We have no time. We have to stop them.”
Though his face was fraught with uncertainty, Holden nodded, and they moved on swiftly, checking over their shoulders to make sure they weren’t followed. After only a few yards, Jace’s legs threatened to give out. Please, Elôm, give me strength. Just enough to save Avery. Though not overwhelming, the heat still working through his blood seemed to grow hotter as his fighting instincts kicked in, dulling the pain and weakness. He pressed forward. He only had to last long enough to foil Reynold’s plans.
They traveled through the city with all haste, though the distance seemed to have multiplied since Jace had traveled it earlier. If only they had their dragons to aid them.
At last, they reached the Dragon’s Head. The door stood open suspiciously. Jace glanced at Holden as they approached and drew his sword. When they neared the door, they peered inside. Overturned tables and a handful of bodies dotted the floor, but no sign of Avery or his uncle.
They stepped inside. A loud groan drew their attention to the back corner where Tavor stumbled to his feet, holding his bloodstained side. Jace rushed over to him.
“Where’s Avery?”
“They took him,” Tavor growled, spitting out an uncomplimentary name for the men.
Jace breathed out slowly. At least Avery was still alive. “To the palace?”
Tavor nodded, grimacing as he pulled his hand away from the slice in his coat. Blood glistened across his palm, but he reached for his sword. “I’m going after them.”
Jace had never been sure if Avery’s men followed him out of loyalty or for the money, but Tavor proved it was the former if he intended to face Baron Reynold and his men alone.
“How many were there?”
“Eight.”
Jace glanced at his friends. Their looks offered him answers without him even having to ask his question. He looked at Tavor again. “We’ll help you.”
Tavor seemed to look on Jace with new eyes, and then nodded curtly. He pushed away from the table at his side and headed determinedly for the door. Jace followed with Holden, Aaron, and Timothy. It would be the five of them against eight. Two of them were hardly fit for fighting, but they had no choice.
Chapter Twenty-one
Jace peered around a corner, down the street. Baron Reynold and his men should appear any minute. They’d spotted them on their way to a suitable ambush site. A couple of royal guards had joined them, bringing their total to twelve men. Not great odds. They were depending on Aaron to thin their numbers before it came to any hand-to-hand combat.
Jace leaned his shoulder against the building and closed his eyes momentarily, praying for success. Twinges of weakness darted through his legs. He feared standing here idle would douse the surge of strength that had brought him this far. If he didn’t get moving again soon, he might not be able to fight at all. Lord, give me Your strength. If you want Avery to live, help us in this rescue. He didn’t know exactly why he was so determined to save Avery, but leaving him to Davira would not have given him any peace. And though he’d been no help to Jace and the others, he did seem to care about those in need. The people here needed someone like him.
A glimpse of gold caught Jace’s full attention. They were coming. Jace glanced back and nodded to the others. His gaze caught on Tavor. The man could have used medical care, but at least it didn’t appear he’d lost too much more blood. The wound must not be overly deep. Regardless of it, he looked ready to fight. Too bad more of Avery’s men weren’t alive or nearby to help them. If only they could have gathered a larger force but, by then, Avery would have been doomed. Already, they were too close to the palace for Jace’s comfort. He sent up another prayer that there weren’t soldiers nearby who would be attracted to the sounds of fighting.
As they drew near, Jace looked for Avery and spotted him at the center of the heavily armed escort. His hands were bound behind his back, and blood oozed down the side of his face. His expression was hard-set and defiant. If he feared what was to come, as any man in his right mind would, he didn’t give away any hint of it.
In another few seconds, they came within several yards of the ambush site. From the other side of the street, Aaron drew back his bow. The arrow sailed away a second later. One of the soldiers dropped to the ground, the arrow’s fletching protruding from his thigh. Before the men could figure out what had happened, another soldier went down. This snapped the group from their shock, and they rushed toward cover near the buildings along the street, dragging Avery with them. Aaron took down one more of them before they had a chance to take shelter behind empty merchant stalls and doorways.
Now it was time to fight. Lifting his sword, Jace dashed away from the corner and charged in with the others. Well-trained, Reynold’s men reacted quickly, drawing their swords. Jace raised his blade to meet that of the first man. His arms felt heavy, but he focused on the fighting blood rising in temperature inside him and the energy it provided. The blades crashed together, echoing through the street.
Another guard converged on him, but he held them off until he maneuvered around and took one down. Focused again on a single opponent, he pressed forward in attack. The guard soon fell, injured, though not mortally. With proper care, he’d survive… Jace hoped. He looked around for another foe and spotted Baron Reynold. The man stalked after Avery, who did his best, hands bound, to dodge his uncle’s attacks. Jace rushed toward them.
The moment Reynold heard him coming, he spun around. Jace slowed cautiously. Though Reynold let others do most of his fighting, Jace wouldn’t underestimate his skill. The man lifted his blade and came at Jace, undaunted. He certainly was confident, probably because he knew Jace was sick. But did he realize Jace was half ryrik? Likely not.
The man’s first strike rang against Jace’s blade with surprising force. Clearly, the man had training. Jace batted the sword away and launched an attack of his own. Reynold blocked it but had to take a step back. Fresh heat surged through Jace, though weaker than usual. He’d have to be quick if he wanted to outlast the rescue attempt.
Reynold certainly wouldn’t go down without a tough fight. His answering attack forced Jace back a step now. Gathering the energy he had left, Jace raised his sword and slashed downward with all his strength. The impact against Reynold’s blade jolted up his arms. Surprise flashed in the man’s face, and he stumbled. Using this vulnerability, Jace swung again and again. Reynold backpedaled. Not watching where he was going, he staggered against the wall of a building, and with a hammer-like blow, Jace battered his sword out of his hand. The man leaned against the building as Jace pressed his sword against his heaving chest.
Winded, Reynold gasped out, “Do you have any idea what you’re doing? You’re saving the man who killed the emperor. The queen will have you hunted down and killed.”
Jace almost laughed. As if Davira didn’t want them all dead already. He just shook his head and stared at Reynold. He had him in the perfect position to kill him and complete the deal with Avery. All it would take is a quick thrust of his sword, and he could be on his way back to camp, to Kyrin, with the remedy. He looked over his shoulder. All fighting had ceased, their opponents either dead or maimed. His friends watched him while Tavor stood with Avery. Jace nodded to the rope in Tavor’s hands.
“Bring that here and tie him up.” Reynold could still run to the palace for help, but tying him up would hopefully give them just enough extra time to escape the area before any more enemies arrived.
Tavor growled. “I have a better idea.” He yanked out a dagger and took a step forward.
“No.” Jace leveled him with a firm look.
Tavor stopped and glared at him. “He and his men killed some of my friends.”
Jace spoke quietly, but firmly. “Killing him won’t bring them back.”
“Yeah, but it’ll avenge them.”
Jace gritted his teeth. His arm was beginning to tremble from the weight of his sword. Fighting to keep the weakness from overcoming the rest of his body, he looked over at Holden. “Tie him up, please.”
Holden strode over to Tavor and took the rope from him. A moment later, Tavor stepped forward like he intended to shove Holden out of the way and take Reynold out regardless. However, in an act that deeply surprised Jace, Avery held him back. Tavor gaped at Avery, who appeared just as surprised over his own actions, but he did not relent and only watched in silence.
Holden swiftly tied Reynold’s hands, and Jace turned to Avery again.
“Holding him as captive may serve you better than outright killing him.”
Alex nodded slowly and then ordered Tavor, “Bring him with us.”
Tavor’s displeasure morphed into a dark grin. Reynold glared at them and then over at Avery.
“You will pay for your crimes.”
Avery stared coldly at him. “Maybe… once you’ve paid for yours.”
He glanced at one of the fallen swords nearby, the desire for revenge glinting in his eyes, but he finally turned away from his uncle. Jace released a long breath and slid his own sword wearily into the scabbard. They all started down the street. After a few steps, the last of the heat in Jace’s body went cold. Chilled sludge filled his veins instead. He willed his body to keep moving, but after just one more step, his knees gave out and hit the frozen cobblestone.
“Jace!” Holden was at his side in an instant, followed quickly by Aaron and Timothy. His expression sobered as he looked into Jace’s face. The effects of the fever must be getting disturbingly evident. He put one of Jace’s arms around his shoulders, and Aaron did the same with the other.
“We need to get you back to the house,” Holden said as they helped him to his feet.
Jace tried to steady himself under his own power, but didn’t have the strength, and had to rely completely on Holden and Aaron to keep him upright.
“Come with us.” They looked over at Avery, who motioned to them. “He needs the remedy.”
Holden and Aaron immediately followed him, but all Jace could think about was getting that remedy to Kyrin. His ryrik blood gave him a much higher chance of survival than she had. She was the one who needed the remedy.
By the time they trudged back across the city and reached one of the taverns Avery apparently frequented, Jace was drenched in sweat, yet an icy coldness gripped his bones. They stepped into the tavern, which seemed unusually full for this time of morning. Their entrance caused quite a stir, and the men immediately gathered around.
“Avery!” one of them exclaimed. “We heard what happened at the Dragon’s Head. We were just about to go looking for you. We were afraid you’d be dead or in the queen’s custody by now.”
“I would be, if not for some help.” Avery motioned to Jace and the others. Tavor then shoved Reynold into their midst. “We also managed to bring back our own captive.”
The men murmured and sneered in recognition of Reynold before offering congratulatory remarks to Avery.
“Keep watch over him until I can figure out somewhere secure to keep him,” he ordered them.
They seemed only too happy to comply. He then gripped one man’s shoulder. “We need medical supplies. Also a dose of the remedy.”
The man hurried off, and Avery addressed some of the others. “Keep watch. The queen’s men will probably come looking for us. We’ll need plenty of warning to get out if that happens.”
In a flurry, the men grabbed their coats and weapons, heading out the door and leaving the tavern nearly empty except for those who guarded Reynold. Avery gestured to Holden and Aaron who still supported Jace. “Bring him to a chair back here.”
They crossed the room and helped Jace sit near a crackling fireplace. He braced himself against the table. He might never be able to get up again now that his body had ceased moving.
The man Avery had sent for supplies returned a moment later with a plump, middle-aged woman. By the way she glanced at the burly barkeeper nearby, Jace guessed she was the man’s wife. Her face took on a fussy, motherly appearance as she hurried to Avery.
“What has that scoundrel uncle of yours done to you?”
“Not too much. You should look after Tavor first.”
The woman nodded, and she and the other man set trays of supplies on the table. Picking up a small tin cup, she said, “Which one of you has the fever?” Her brown eyes rested on Jace. “Ah, that would be you, wouldn’t it?” She offered the cup to him. “Drink this up and you’ll be feeling better in no time. I mixed it with some tea to help it go down.”
Jace held up his hand, though it took a terrible amount of effort. “No.” He looked over at Avery. “Kyrin needs it more than I do.”
Avery waved dismissively. “Just drink it and we’ll discuss that once none of us are bleeding out or about to fall out of our chairs.”
Holden took the cup from the woman and held it in front of Jace. Jace stared at the murky liquid swirling inside. This small cup could save Kyrin’s life. It went against everything inside him to drink it himself. But Holden didn’t yield, and Jace finally took the cup. Begging Elôm to save Kyrin and the others, he gulped down the bitter mixture, and then set the cup on the table, his strength spent.
For the next half an hour, the barkeeper’s wife tended each of them, cleaning and binding up their wounds. The gash across Tavor’s ribs had bled a lot, but the tough man would recover. Avery had a gash to the side of his head, though it didn’t require any stitches, and Jace barely felt the cut along the back of his head. His skull did still pound, though, with the effects of a concussion.
Once they were each looked after, the woman bustled off, murmuring humorously dark threats against Baron Reynold and Davira. By this time, Jace almost felt as though his fever were starting to go down, though he still wasn’t sure he’d be able to stand if he had to. The remedy probably wouldn’t miraculously return his strength in under an hour.
Quietness settled as they all sat around the table. Finally, Avery looked at Jace. “You had the perfect chance to complete our bargain, but you didn’t take it.”
Jace straightened, resting his arms on the table. “I murdered a man once.” He swallowed hard at the guilt that still liked to creep in. “I won’t do it again. Not even to save Kyrin.”
Avery’s dark eyes probed him. “Why did you stop Tavor?”
“I couldn’t just watch a murder either. It wouldn’t have been right.”
Avery shook his head. “You Elôm followers are a strange lot.” He fiddled with the empty tin cup. “I suppose now you’re looking for payment for saving my life.”
“No,” Jace said, bringing the man’s gaze back up in surprise. “That is not why I, at least, came after you. As I felt with your uncle, I didn’t believe it would be right to let you die, especially at Davira’s hand. I had no thoughts of payment.”
Avery’s expression slowly changed, becoming less cool and more open. “If any other man said that, I’d think him a liar… but I believe you.” He sat for a moment in contemplative silence, and then turned to Tavor. “Are you fit for walking?”
