Read Online The Prodigal Troll by Charles Coleman Finlay - Free Book Online
Authors: Charles Coleman Finlay
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when you're done, you dead man," the voice said again, a little louder. He stepped forward from the darkness and paused uncertainly, sword poised before him. A knight? No. From his size and the way he moved, Yvon recognized the soldier from this afternoon. Some knight must have lent his approval to the murder along with the sword. That happened sometimes. He took two more cautious steps toward Xaragitte, sword raised. "You hear me?"
Yvon pounced, hitting the man hard just below the ribs, wrapping up his arms, and slamming him to the ground. The air rushed out of the soldier with a "Whoof!" and his sword flew free. Yvon slipped his blade in quick and slit the throat. The man's face froze, and the expression poured right out of it along with the blood.
He stood up and checked to make sure that no one else approached. A few distant snores sounded in the night, but nothing more. He regarded the dead soldier. That was the way he should have handled that puppy of a knight at the castle. He felt angry, frustrated, and tired. He bent again, slashed the man's drawstring, and yanked his pants down to his knees.
He found the man's knife and thrust it into the pelvis, between his legs, so that it stood knob up into the air. "You cowardly little prick," he murmured.
After wiping his blade carefully on the dead man's clothes, he searched the pockets for valuables and found none. He turned to wake Xaragitte. They needed to escape before the Baron's soldiers woke.
She was sitting up, staring at Yvon. She cradled the sleeping baby in one arm, retying her bodice with the other hand. In the darkness, Yvon had no indication of how long she'd been watching or what she'd seen.
"The bond is broken," she said. "Lady Gruethrist's lifespark has been fully extinguished."
Jaye dangled like a dead weight at Xaragitte's breast, little nouth agape, one arm dangling toward the ground.
Yvon shoved their blankets into the pack. "We have to go now," he whispered. He said nothing about the soldier he had killed or Lady Gruethrist.
Xaragitte nodded and stood. Her shoulders sagged as soon as she slipped Claye into the sling.
"I could carry him," Yvon offered.
"I'll carry him. You lead us to safety. That's what you promised to do."
"I will." Although he didn't know how. They needed to cross the bridge at the castle to take the trail to Lady Eleuate's keep, but they would surely be stopped there and likely recognized. If they took the longer way around, crossing the river nearer its source in the mountains, by the time they circled back, the Baron's men would already have taken it.
Yvon led them quietly away from the army and followed the trail along the high slope beside the river. He went as quickly as Xaragitte could walk, paying more attention to her than the path, and thinking about how to cross the bridge, so that he didn't see they were surrounded until the first shadowy forms stepped out of the trees around them.
A woman stepped forward, one of the army's camp followers. The other shadows resolved into old men and adolescent boys bearing staffs and short knives. Yvon's hand slipped to his sword. If he hurt one or two, the rest would scatter.
"Hold," the woman said. She approached Xaragitte, stroking Claye's cheek with the back of her hand. "Boy or girl?"
"Boy," Xaragitte replied.
The woman made the kind of murmur that hinted condolences at this misfortune. "What's his name?"
It was a gesture of politeness, acting as though they were two women in one of their homes, already introduced. Xaragitte lifted her chin a little. "Cl-Kady."
Yvon's throat dried and knotted. More than ever, he wanted to be on the move away from the camp and the dead soldier.
"Klady?" the woman asked.
"Kady," Xaragitte corrected.
"You're from this valley?"
Xaragitte hesitated a second. "Yes."
"We're going to reach the castle tonight. Will we be better off claiming land on this side or the far side of the river?"
Yvon understood now. Baron Culufre was bringing the
Yvon pounced, hitting the man hard just below the ribs, wrapping up his arms, and slamming him to the ground. The air rushed out of the soldier with a "Whoof!" and his sword flew free. Yvon slipped his blade in quick and slit the throat. The man's face froze, and the expression poured right out of it along with the blood.
He stood up and checked to make sure that no one else approached. A few distant snores sounded in the night, but nothing more. He regarded the dead soldier. That was the way he should have handled that puppy of a knight at the castle. He felt angry, frustrated, and tired. He bent again, slashed the man's drawstring, and yanked his pants down to his knees.
He found the man's knife and thrust it into the pelvis, between his legs, so that it stood knob up into the air. "You cowardly little prick," he murmured.
After wiping his blade carefully on the dead man's clothes, he searched the pockets for valuables and found none. He turned to wake Xaragitte. They needed to escape before the Baron's soldiers woke.
She was sitting up, staring at Yvon. She cradled the sleeping baby in one arm, retying her bodice with the other hand. In the darkness, Yvon had no indication of how long she'd been watching or what she'd seen.
"The bond is broken," she said. "Lady Gruethrist's lifespark has been fully extinguished."
Jaye dangled like a dead weight at Xaragitte's breast, little nouth agape, one arm dangling toward the ground.
Yvon shoved their blankets into the pack. "We have to go now," he whispered. He said nothing about the soldier he had killed or Lady Gruethrist.
Xaragitte nodded and stood. Her shoulders sagged as soon as she slipped Claye into the sling.
"I could carry him," Yvon offered.
"I'll carry him. You lead us to safety. That's what you promised to do."
"I will." Although he didn't know how. They needed to cross the bridge at the castle to take the trail to Lady Eleuate's keep, but they would surely be stopped there and likely recognized. If they took the longer way around, crossing the river nearer its source in the mountains, by the time they circled back, the Baron's men would already have taken it.
Yvon led them quietly away from the army and followed the trail along the high slope beside the river. He went as quickly as Xaragitte could walk, paying more attention to her than the path, and thinking about how to cross the bridge, so that he didn't see they were surrounded until the first shadowy forms stepped out of the trees around them.
A woman stepped forward, one of the army's camp followers. The other shadows resolved into old men and adolescent boys bearing staffs and short knives. Yvon's hand slipped to his sword. If he hurt one or two, the rest would scatter.
"Hold," the woman said. She approached Xaragitte, stroking Claye's cheek with the back of her hand. "Boy or girl?"
"Boy," Xaragitte replied.
The woman made the kind of murmur that hinted condolences at this misfortune. "What's his name?"
It was a gesture of politeness, acting as though they were two women in one of their homes, already introduced. Xaragitte lifted her chin a little. "Cl-Kady."
Yvon's throat dried and knotted. More than ever, he wanted to be on the move away from the camp and the dead soldier.
"Klady?" the woman asked.
"Kady," Xaragitte corrected.
"You're from this valley?"
Xaragitte hesitated a second. "Yes."
"We're going to reach the castle tonight. Will we be better off claiming land on this side or the far side of the river?"
Yvon understood now. Baron Culufre was bringing the
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