Page 36

Ten minutes earlier…

“Go. See to the boys.”

Perri knew in the depths of her heart it was the right thing to say to Brandth, as all hell broke loose in the clearing. Arrows flying. Followed swiftly by the thud of bodies being tackled. But it was the most difficult five words she’d ever uttered.

Her baby was in danger. But Brandth was a trained swordsman. If anyone had a chance of seeing Levi and Deacon to safety, it was him. He was an honourable, noble man, and he would do everything in his power to save the boys, even at the cost of his own life.

No! She would not go there, not believe the Deities above could be so cruel as to tear her son and the man she loved from her in a single moment.

Out the corner of her eye Perri was aware of both Alia and Talac tangling with Regal’s cohorts, Wilton already dead on the ground, but Perri didn’t allow herself to be distracted, her goal here was Regal. Hopefully to kill him, but at the very least keep him occupied long enough for Levi to be gotten to safety.

Rage searing through Perri as her gaze rested upon Regal’s oh so smug handsome features. He was smiling at her. Smiling! As if the outcome of this melee were a foregone conclusion.

All the hatred Perri had for him threatened to burn her from the inside out, consume her… and then, just like that, a blanketing winter whiteout descended, all that hatred turning quiet and cold, so very, very cold.

Regal could smile smugly all he liked. All his suppositions of the outcome were based upon two women he had known ten years ago. A meek, obedient, easily manipulated young wife, and her younger, flighty, tomboy of a sister. They were not those girls anymore… Regal was about to suffer a nasty shock, and Perri couldn’t be more delighted that she was going to be the one to bring that fact home to him.

Watching as he made a pithy gesture in the air to the bodyguard hovering at his side. Hah, it appeared her estranged husband didn’t believe she was worth the effort of him getting his hands dirty, or working up a sweat to end her. He was requesting his servant step up… as if Perri’s demise was a chore to be dealt with.

The bodyguard was about the same height as Regal, but twice as broad across the chest, with meaty arms and large hands. Next to Regal he seemed ugly, though no doubt if you just came across him in the street alone you would think him average, if not pleasant to look upon. It wasn’t until she gazed into his dark eyes that Perri understood why he willingly did his Master’s bidding. Because he got to do things such as this, hurt her, kill her, under his Lord’s instructions. This man was a killing tool, and the glitter of anticipation shining in his eyes let Perri know that he enjoyed his role very much.

That cold burn of hatred, if possible, added another layer or two, encasing Perri’s heart. She knew, gut deep, that this man had hurt her son in the past. Happily so when instructed, and probably snuck in a few cruelties when Regal wasn’t looking, just because he could. Because he liked to see those weaker than him hurt.

It was probably why he didn’t reach for the rapier holstered at his belt, instead, clenching his fists, warming them up. He planned to beat Perri to death and then likely throttle her for a final flourish whilst her not so dear husband watched on.

Perri remained silent, unmoving, as Regal’s dogsbody began walking towards her. He expected her to run, or flinch… or perhaps beg. Yes, she could imagine he liked to hear his victims beg.

What he wasn’t expecting was for Perri to begin running towards him. She’d removed several petticoats from her most serviceable grey dress, and raised the hemline a good foot. Making the dress so much lighter and easier to manoeuvre in. She could run fast in it, her sturdy work boots making a thudding sound against the loose dirt.

Regal’s personal killer looked a little puzzled by her speedy advancement, but he didn’t appear worried in the slightest. A mere slender woman against him, he was very sure of what the outcome of this encounter would be.

Three steps away from him, Perri wasn’t slowing down. He raised his arms wide, assuming perhaps she intended to duck past him and attempt one futile bid at damaging his Master. But Perri didn’t duck, all she did was yank a small woven pouch secured on the belt at her waist. Several medicinal aids had been tied to it. She would have liked to have brought more, but didn’t want to weigh herself down, so only the essentials were present.

And the contents of this particular pouch were about to prove very essential.

One step away from the bodyguard now, she wasn’t trying to duck around him, so he began to reach for her instead. Taking a deep breath and holding it, Perri hurled the small pouch directly into the man’s face and then darted sideways. One of his hands missing her by mere inches. Backing up several paces she came to an abrupt halt, staring intently at the dead man still standing.

The pouch had broken upon impact, the contents sending up a dust cloud around the man’s head. He waved it away, unconcerned for a moment. Though that quickly changed in about two heartbeats. The man’s eyes suddenly widening in consternation, his fists coming up instinctively to his no doubt stinging eyes, even as fire coated the back of his throat. He coughed, managing to suck in a little air. Bad for him, good for Perri.

He tried to wipe away the dust that was now clinging to his cheeks, even as tears rolled down them. Releasing gasping breathless groans, one of his hands now clutching frantically at his throat, as if to clear the way for air, or ease the pain. He fell to his knees, bloodshot eyes wide with terror and pain. Another groan escaping from him as abruptly he turned a deathly pale, his mouth opening wide, a torrent of blood escaping in a flood to gout down his tunic to the ground. Two seconds later his eyes glazed over and he fell face down with a thud. Unmoving. Quite dead.

Perri approached the body and with the hem of her skirts extracted the man’s rapier from its holster, wiping down the handle carefully before rising to face Regal unhurriedly. As if she had all the time in the world. Noting that his smile had dropped away. His clear blue gaze travelling to her waist, counting the number of woven bags still attached to her belt. Wondering perhaps if she intended to attack him in the same manner.

Unfortunately, Perri didn’t travel with much wesdeight dust. Needs for its application were rare and she’d used her entire travelling supply on the bodyguard. Of course Regal had no way of knowing that. Appearing to consider Perri much more seriously as a threat now, drawing his own slim sword from its sheath. But still there was arrogant unconcern on his face, tinged with just a hint of mockery, probably intended to rile her. But Perri was too icy cold and focused to let Regal goad her into making a mistake.

Dashing forward, Perri didn’t try to hide how good she was. Striking at Regal with a flurry of hits and jabs that forced him to work hard to fend her off.

“Someone’s been practising.”

Perri might be a healer but she knew how to use bladed weapons. It was mandatory at the Lair. Whilst during her youth Perri hadn’t taken the lessons very seriously, following the incident ten years ago she’d used the training bouts to take the edge off of her inner anger. And she’d been very angry indeed.

She didn’t bother explaining that to Regal, just slid two feet to the right, engaging him again.

“You were always a quiet one, that was one of the few things I liked about you Perri-winkle… that, and the way you used to adore me so utterly and completely.”

Regal huffed noisily, having to work hard to avoid a jab to his throat. Just sidestepping in time.

Perri had trained with pirates and ruffians, they liked to say there was nothing better than facing off against an aristo. All those fancy polite rules meant nothing in a real sword fight.

She could tell by Regal’s uneven breathing that he was having to work to block when she went in below the belt or aimed for his eyes. Problem was, the longer this sword fight continued, the more the tide was turning in Regal’s favour.

Too much time had passed. He would know she didn’t have another poisonous pouch at her disposal. All she had was the sword. He was taller, stronger, fitter than she was… able to last longer and hit harder. Already Perri’s shoulders were screaming.

She wondered if Brandth had managed to rescue the boys as yet. But she dare not take her eyes off Regal for even a second to check. Worry for them gnawed at her relentlessly. It felt like an age since she first engaged Regal, but perhaps only a few brief minutes had passed. Perri biting her lip in determination, trying to freeze out the pain. But muscles were funny things. When they reached their limits, they tended to let you know in quite a dramatic fashion.

The spasm came from nowhere, Perri’s back involuntarily arching, her hand automatically unclenching, releasing her weapon. Seizing the moment, Regal brought his sword around brutally fast, he knew when an opponent was in trouble.

Perri allowed herself to collapse to the ground, the swish of Regal’s sword loud as it travelled through empty air. He’d committed whole heartedly to the strike and travelled two feet to the left with the force of it. It gave Perri precious seconds to arch her back twice and hunch, releasing the spasm. Unfortunately, that still left her on the ground, vulnerable.

She looked for her sword, but Regal was already there, kicking it out of reach. Staring down at her, his cheeks flushed, eyes glittering in a fashion that was horrifyingly familiar, reminding her of the look in his eyes ten years ago, when he sought to kill his brothers and rode on by, leaving Perri for dead.

Time slowed. Regal’s lips stretched wider, deep dimples creasing his cheeks, that mocking smug smile that he only let his victims ever catch a glimpse of was back.

“What do you know, the fairy tales had it right, the hero wins the day by beheading the ugly monster.”

Regal raising the sword above his head slowly, triumphantly, widening his stance a little to ensure the very best angle for his intended death strike.

Unafraid, Perri kept her eyes locked on Regal’s smug face, she wanted to see his expression… when her fist connected with his unprotected groin.

Breath leaving his body in an explosion, part groan, all shock and misery. A green cast over his features as his body instinctively hunched forward, before he dropped to his knees, moaning in pain. Clutching at his tender bits with one hand.

Perri scrambled to her feet, snatching Regal’s sword from his loosened grip. With the tip of her work boot she gave his ribs a hard kick. Regal folding sideways with a muffled groan, huddling into a ball.

“Perri!”

There was such relief in Alia’s voice.

“Have you got this?”

By this, she meant Regal. Asking if Perri could finish him. Asking if she needed help. Perri’s right boot already swinging through the air, smashing into Regal’s mouth, blood, and hopefully a few teeth exploding from between his lips as he coughed, spat, and moaned some more.

“I’ve got it.”

Perri, standing over Regal, attempted to calm her pounding heart. Moderately surprised at herself. She’d had a lot that she intended to say to Regal. A long list of things she planned to do to him, if she ever got the upper hand and found him at her mercy.

Looking down at him now, blood bubbling from his nose and running down his chin, his body curled into a protective ball. Perri was surprised at how little she felt. Not victory. Not pleasure. Just… just like she was crossing off the last item on a list that needed to be completed.

Eradicate Regal Soutner, removing him from her son’s life, from her life.

Strange, Alia wasn’t stopping to help or just lend moral support, her sister had continued running past Perri, headed… to the riverbank. Good heavens, Alia wouldn’t leave Perri alone to deal with Regal unless something dire was happening to someone they cared about. Levi? Brandth?

“The fairy tales we tell at Gloomenthrall are much more accurate we have found. The beast or monster is never the real problem. And the fair maiden generally has to save the hero from his own stupidity… or kill him.”

She thrust the point of Regal’s own sword deeply into his heart as he made one last effort to rise up, the killing look in his eyes sparking momentarily, before fading abruptly as life left his body.

Yanking the sword back out, Perri began to run in the direction Alia was heading, the river. There was no sign of Levi, Deacon or Brandth. Only Talac up ahead, at the river’s edge, yanking off one boot then a second, before diving into the swiftly running water.

Gods. Brandth and the boys were in the water.

* * *

It was the end of summer, the water coolish, but not cold. Brandth breaking the surface, his boots weighing him down, sinking immediately, only to bob right back up to the surface. Thank the Deities above, keymoat skin was buoyant, his jacket was worth ten times what he’d paid for it.

Kicking, keeping his broken arm close to his body, Brandth attempted to swim one handed. It was awkward, painful, and the dip and swirl of the fast current battered at his injuries, reminding him constantly that he was not in the best of states to be performing such a rescue as this.

Where were the boys? Was this hopeless? No, as the choppy water swept him a little higher for a moment, he caught a glimpse of them up ahead. Thankfully clinging together, a little further to his right. They appeared to be taking it in turns to push the other up so they might breathe as they twirled and bobbed along at the mercy of the current. It must be costing them a great effort to stay together and kick their bound legs to propel each other up.

Gritting his teeth, Brandth did his best to edge his way further across the river, to line himself up with the path through the water the boys were taking. Now he just had to catch up to them. He was lighter, thanks to his jacket, and he was actively trying to cut through the water. All that helped.

He tried to yell, to warn them he was coming. But the rush of the water was either too loud or the boys too waterlogged. He banged into them, wrapping one arm around whoever was on the right. Brandth crying out in pain, a spike of red hot agony shooting up his broken arm. The boys’ shouts of alarm muffled behind their gags. Ceasing when they realised they were being rescued.

The weight of the boys sunk Brandth dangerously lower. Worse, he might have them, but he couldn’t reach the blade in his boot unless he let them go. And neither boy could do it for him. They could all try kicking for the shoreline, but the boys were bound, and fast running out of strength just trying to keep each other up. Brandth’s presence was helping on that score, but all of them were exhausted.

“One… one of you… needs to loop your arms around my neck.”

It was a good idea, and meant Brandth could keep a grasp on the other more securely.

“My arm’s broken… I won’t be able to hold you both… much longer.”

Brandth couldn’t help unless he let go, so it was up to the boys, watching as Deacon nodded, took a deep breath and went under… to thrust himself upwards and loop Levi’s arms around Brandth’s neck.

“Good… now. Hey! No.”

Deacon was shaking his head at Brandth, releasing his hold, pushing himself away. Of all the noble self-sacrificing idiots. Brandth grappled for him, but the lad all but wrenched himself away. And with Levi weighing Brandth down he no longer had the ability to move very fast.

“Get back here.”

Deacon was drifting away too quickly, lighter, surging ahead thanks to the strong currents. Still dipping beneath the surface, before kicking his tied legs to re-surface, gasping in air. But he looked oh so tired. No. No. Brandth could sense Levi pressed against his back, tensing his body, and making protesting muffled grunting sounds, as if willing Brandth to do something.

If only he could.

How much longer could Deacon last? He was getting further and further away from them. Every time Deacon bobbed under the water, Brandth wondered if he would manage to find the strength to kick upwards one more time.

Then a large dark shape cut through the water, brushing aside Brandth and Levi, sending a rush of water directly into Brandth’s face. For a moment he was confused, blinking away the water just in time to watch Talac reach the last spot where they’d seen Deacon go under and dive for him. Oh, Gods, please, please. Flinching back instinctively as a head bobbed up beside him in the water, Alia.

He moaned as she grabbed for them and started dragging them sideways across the river, towards the nearest bank, with sure strong kicks of her unimpeded long legs. It still felt like it took forever, and concentrating on not passing out every time either Levi or Alia jostled his arm became Brandth’s main focus.

Finally they got close enough to the riverbank for Alia to stand up, though Brandth and Levi struggled to do so.

“Boot. Knife.”

He managed to advise her. Laying in the muck as she cut away Levi, dragging the boy up the muddy bank and then came back to do the same for Brandth.

He must have lost consciousness for a few minutes. Next Brandth knew he was flat on his back, grass beneath him. Someone was crying… a boy? Levi.

“No. He can’t die. He just can’t!”

Someone was dying? Him? No, not from a broken arm. Brandth found the strength to move his head. Oh. Talac had just finished cutting off the ropes and gag from Deacon, but the lad remained stubbornly pale and still.

“Move aside!”

Wow, he didn’t know Perri could bellow like that. Or run for that matter, her heavy boots making a loud thudding sound as she all but flew across the grass, collapsing beside the limp remains of Deacon.

“Perri… he’s-”

“I’ve got this, Alia.”

Pushing Deacon’s head back, pinching his nose, and huffing three quick puffs of air into his mouth. Then Perri fisted her hands together and pressed down upon the lad’s chest numerous times, before pinching his nose again and gifting him more breath. She was on her third round of breathing in to his mouth when Deacon abruptly coughed. Like lightning, Perri rolled the boy to his side, as he began to heave up water.

Thank heavens, pride surged through Brandth, Perri was miracle worker… and she was his. Though he had yet to formally seal the deal. And if things went badly with Levi, he had a horrible suspicion that his intention to wed Perri Gloomenthrall would be shredded to pieces. Cruddy hell, it was galling to realise that his future happiness rested entirely upon the shoulders of a twelve year old boy.

* * *

Perri leaned back on her heels, trying to catch her breath and calm her racing heart. Her run along the riverbank chasing those in the water had been nothing but frantic. She’d stumbled twice along the way, but she’d made it. Made it in time to bring Deacon back from the cusp of death.

Watching as Alia dropped to her knees, rubbing Deacon’s back reassuringly, until he stopped dry heaving. Gently helping him to sit upright.

Slowly, Perri stood up, absently brushing away dirt and grass from her dress. She was wasting time, she knew it, but she couldn’t bring herself to stop procrastinating. Saving Deacon, that all came down to her skills and his will to live. What she had to do next, face her long lost son… encompassing fear threatened to engulf her.

“Is that lady really my… mother?”

Levi’s voice behind her… was it tinged with panic? Terror? Hope? She didn’t know him well enough to tell.

“Yes.”

Brandth’s one word response sounded loud for some reason.

Yes. Yes, she was Levi’s mother. For good, for bad, she was his mother. And it didn’t matter if he turned his face away from her in horror. She would find a way to live with that. The important thing was making sure he was safe, and that he continued to be safe. That he find a place where he was treated with kindness. Where he would be loved. Fed. Educated. And guided in to manhood.

For him to understand there were choices open to him now.

Alia could take Levi to the Lair. Her father, Gods bless his grumpy hide, was a big old softy, and Levi was heir to Gloomenthrall. It wouldn’t be unheard of for Levi to billet with his grandfather. All her female kin would spoil him rotten. Or… or he could stay with his mother… if that was what he chose to do.

Squaring her shoulders, Perri plastered her best serene healer expression on her face and turned around, addressing those behind her.

“Do either of you need medical attention?”

“Him, the gentleman.”

Levi’s voice came out high and rushed as he pointed at Brandth.

“His arm is broke.”

Brandth was hurt? Being serene went out the window as Perri rushed forward, dropping to the ground beside him.

“Why didn’t you speak up, you ninny?”

Brushing Brandth’s drying hair off his forehead as she searched his expression for how much pain he was in. Thankful that though it was an overcast day it was still a warm one and no one would be getting a chill.

Brandth’s smile sent Perri’s heart fluttering as he leaned up to plant a swift soft kiss on her lips.

“Oh, the lengths I must go to capture the attention of my sweet harridan.”

He was in pain and he was flirting? It reassured her mightily.

“Your arm?”

Leaning back a little to get a look.

“Oh, your poor arm.”

Carefully, gently, feeling down the limb to gauge the extent of the damage.

“The cudgel?”

Stopping at his wrist.

“Wriggle your fingers for me.” Watching him attempt to do so. “Good. Enough.” Swiftly Perri unbuckled the belt around her waist, pulling off all the pouches before securing the belt carefully around Brandth, making a sling. “Here.” She dug into one of the pouches and handed over a small round green ball. “Chew on this… slowly.”

“It looks like grass.”

Brandth peered at the ball suspiciously.

“It’s a painkiller…”

She saw the stubborn look enter his eyes.

“Don’t make me pinch your nose and force feed you.”

Her breath almost catching in her throat as she heard Levi laugh at her words.

“Fine.”

Brandth agreed, stuffing the ball into his mouth and chewing.

“It even tastes like grass… I look like a cow, don’t I? Are you sure this… you’re really pretty. Oh, the world is spinning. I’m not sure I like it.”

“Lie back down and close your eyes. That’ll help.”

Carefully lowering Brandth back down, a dreamy smile tugging up the corners of his mouth as he continued to chew.

“Hey.”

He grabbed Perri’s hand as she began to turn away from him.

“Don’t leave without speaking to me, promise?”

“I promise.”

She patted Brandth’s chest reassuringly, by the nine circles, she loved him, he’d helped save her son with a broken arm, there were no words to thank him for his courage and determination. The best she could do was knock him out whilst they moved him to the Palace, where she would take another look at his arm and secure it so it would mend correctly.

“Is he going to be okay?”

“Yes.”

She looked to the left, Levi had crawled up beside her, his red hair almost dried, sticking up in a hundred directions at once. Love and fear warred within Perri. “Hello.”

Turning her head slightly so he could get the full measure of her face… her scars. She would not be a coward, she would not hide from her son. If he chose to turn away from her, to run away, then she would not love him less. She would send Alia after him to explain his options and help him make the right choices for his future.

“I suppose I should officially introduce myself… I’m Perri Gloomenthrall, your mother.”

Levi continued to stare at her, his blue eyes so familiar, she saw them every day in the mirror. Still, he stayed silent. She couldn’t stand it another minute, reaching out to try and pat some of his riotous hair into some kind of order. He didn’t flinch away, that was a good sign.

“I have your hair. I didn’t see it until today.”

“Yes.”

She confirmed, giving up. What she needed was a strong brush and perhaps some scissors.

“And my eyes.”

He just kept on staring at Perri. “I limp.”

He made the announcement gravely, as if it was something hard to say.

“I know.”

“Yes… yes, of course you do. But I limp less now…”

All the colour draining from his face suddenly as he glanced down.

“I lost my… shoes and the insole you bought for me in the river.”

“Then we shall have to buy you some new shoes then. Maybe some boots even. And I’m sure it won’t be any trouble to have several insole uppers made.”

“So I’ll limp less?”

His eyes narrowed, as if what Perri said next was of vital importance to him.

“It’s not so much that you limp, it’s what that is doing to your hips and spine. Especially now you’re growing taller. I suspect of late you’ve started getting passing pains and aches in those places. If we can begin to even you out a little now, you will have less related problems as you get older.”

“Oh.”

He continued to stare at Perri intently, but her matter of fact response seemed to have reassured him somehow.

“I have some scars on my face.”

“Yes.”

Levi acknowledged, his gaze shifting from her eyes for a moment to travel over her features.

“Do they hurt?”

“No, not for many, many years.”

“Good.”

His eyes met hers again, full of bright curiosity now, but still edged with uncertainty.

“Father… father told me you’d died.”

Gods, her child had survived over a decade under Regal’s hellish rule, there was no point in drenching the truth with honey.

“As I think you know by now, when your father was talking, he was invariably lying.”

Had she gone too far by disparaging Regal openly? Levi freezing in place, his shoulders hunching almost automatically, as if he expected to be punished just by listening to someone else speak ill of his father. Oh, Levi. She hoped Regal was rotting in hell. Heavens, she wasn’t sure if Levi knew what had happened.

“He’s dead, you know. Your father…”

Levi’s eyes widened in shocked surprise.

“Really? Dead dead?”

“Very dead. Trust me, I’m a healer, I know dead.”

He bit his lip, and then whispered just so Perri would hear.

“I used to dream about him dying. Dream about growing up, getting tall enough, strong enough to… to kill him.”

“Well, I’m afraid you shall have to find something new to dream about, darling boy of mine.”

“Yours?”

Hope flared.

“Mine, completely and utterly mine.”

Perri couldn’t resist any longer, reaching out to cup Levi’s too lean gorgeous face. Holding her breath, prepared for him to bat her hand away, oh, Gods, and he did, but only to dive forward, wrapping his arms around her waist, clinging to her. One word slipping from his lips that filled Perri with indescribable joy and heat, lovely warm heat. The ice that had been encasing her heart shattering between one beat and the next.

“Mama!”