Chapter 8

Chapter

Eight

TAMAS

Our passage was hard and relentless. The ocean turned against us as waves battered against the bow of our rowboat. For days we'd rowed, drenched, without food and water, hands frozen to the oars, and our stomachs growling and churning. The days felt grim, the nights savage. My men continued, taking turns at the oars to spare their strength to ensure we made shore by the night of the split moon. Tonight.

We waited offshore, working against the current to keep out of sight until night broke, then we slipped in using the dark as our cloak. Lustuif leapt out along with Tremmin and guided the boat into the rocky shallows.

The half-moon gave us some light as we made our way across the rocks and up to the edge of the marshes and the hedge trees behind. After our time at sea, I welcomed the powerful stench of rotting marsh weed released as we trudged through the mud, drenched by the salty spray.

I stopped, raising my hand, then sunk into the marsh and kept watch. Within breaths, two figures appeared. I hooted a soft bird song, the signal to my men it was safe to move on and rose to join the two approaching figures, tasked with waiting our return.

"Well timed. The stew should be about ready," Waylen said.

I took his hand, and he swept me close for a chest press and back slap.

"Now that I want to hear," Garrat said, coming up behind me.

"What about the ale?" Osmud asked, crossing his arms to slap his shoulders, a sign he was ready to leave the cold behind and drown himself in a tankard or ten.

"The deed is done?" Kintore asked.

Garrat made a snort and pushed past Waylen and Kintore, tramping back the way they'd come through the marsh and into the hedge trees.

"We're one less," I said. "We'll remember Micale tonight and give thanks for his bravery. Then we set our sights forward to our next plan."

Kintore nodded but said nothing in response. An honorable goodbye should follow an honorable death, but we'd had little choice but to send Micale's body over the side of the boat while silently giving our thanks for his bravery. Those by the fire would appreciate their chance to say goodbye.

I had yet to reply to Kintore's questions and still felt Osmud's glare and the heavy frown I'd spied the morning after our attack. Neither Garrat nor Osmud had questioned me during our row to safety. Their silence hung on my shoulders and rippled around the boat. I'd sought solitude to think, and now I'd made my plan.

Our landing was obscured by swampland few could farm. Settlements were rare around these parts, but reaching shore within Tarragona territory, we had to be careful.

A dance of flames flickered through the hedge trees, growing steadily before us. The bearer left the trees and squelched through the marsh, heading for the boat. I clapped his back as I passed, not sure which one of my men it was in the dark, but confident he would fulfill his duty. Before I passed into the hedge trees, I glanced behind to see the first flicker of fire lick the boat. By morning, there would be nothing but ash.

We trudged the rest of the way to our campfire in silence. Thanks to my Huungardred blood, the cold bothered me less than a normal man, but days wet at sea, and the cold penetrated into my bones. The fire was a welcome sight, as to the dozen men who rose on seeing our approach. I'd taken twelve strong Razohan to attack the ship, another twelve to await our return. Twenty-four was a safe number, good numbers in a skirmish, but few enough to move through the kingdom undetected.

And then one more. Bryra moved in beside me when we reached the fireside. She, too, had said nothing about our attack on the ship and the aftermath. I had avoided her eyes the most on that cold, wet journey, feeling guilt for what I'd not achieved for reasons other than duty.

Ayllip circled the fire, two tankards in his hand. "The task is done?" He handed one to me and gave the other to Bryra.

I averted my gaze, but there were no more chances for silence. Instead, I made myself comfortable on one of the many logs pulled around the fire. "She still lives. But we've crippled the ship. There are not enough sailors for them to reach Tarragona's shore."

A long mournful howl resounding in the distance broke the ensuing quiet.

"Her death was the sole purpose we came here," Ayllip continued. "Why did you let her survive?"

Bryra eased onto the log beside me, her human side closest to me. I gave in to the distraction, eyeing her muscular thigh a finger's width from mine. She'd been responsible for most of the deaths, but the blood had washed free from her body early on our return voyage.

As a pureblood, in their true form, Huungardred measured twice the size as any Razohan. Bryra insisted on coming, claiming with so few men, I faced failure. It was a slight, and one I swallowed given I'd withheld my reply to Thaindrus's request and Bryra knew. With her at our side, there was no question of us failing, and she would be of great value on the return journey to the north should my men run into any trouble.

"It was for the best. I have a new plan."

"It would've been kinder to kill her," Kintore said.

I took a long drink from my tankard, having no answer they wanted to hear. Neither could I explain my leniency to myself, not yet. When I found solitude in the days ahead, I would be able to parse apart the sudden and conflicting emotions and thoughts and devise a solution.

I'd seen her features in the darkness while in my shifted form. There were three traits in a woman that won a Razohan's eye: beauty, curves, or strength. She had none of those. But there were other traits about her that stilled my hand. Courage, bravery, ferocity, and will. Those were the traits a Razohan fell in love with, and what I admired in anyone above all else. Such rare gifts, yet the princess of Whelin held all four. My now healed wound was a testament to her prowess with a dagger. And she wielded two with the ease of a skilled fighter; that I couldn't help but admire even in my toughest enemy. The last trait to eclipse all else, honor, won her her life; to bargain her life for her people in a duel was her savior.

But it was more than mere admiration that restrained me. I'm certain the Salmun had no idea whom they were admitting into the House of Tannard.

"The bride's survival doesn't change your task." It was time to push forward from what I'd failed to do onto more important matters.

I took my bowl of stew, eager to find something else to do other than talk. Conversation disappeared while the twelve of us were given time to fill our bellies. I stared into the fire, trying to stop from mulling over the problems I'd likely created in allowing the princess to live. The first tight situation was sitting beside me.

Thaindrus said nothing to dissuade Bryra from accompanying us, even though the Huungardrerd strove to stay neutral in men's affairs. I knew why he allowed her and why she came, and it made this campsite moment tough to bear. Added to that, I felt the interrogating weight of Osmud and Garrat's glares. Both waited for my reasons, and I had none that would satisfy them, doubling my guilt for asking them to risk this venture.

Finally, the unease in my head drove me to my feet.

"I give thanks to the cook. It was well needed."

"There's plenty more in the pot," Waylen said.

"Then save some for me." I left my bowl where I sat and moved away from the fire, taking my tankard with me.

I moved far enough to keep others from hearing and waited for Osmud and Garrat, knowing I had run their patience dry. After days of heavy cloud, strong winds and rain, the stars were a welcome sight. I searched the sky, wandering what signs I was supposed to look for according to the augur's prophecy. Night lit as day. I couldn't comprehend how that should be. And how long were we to wait until the phenomenon appeared? Thinking about that, my mind slipped to the rest of the words he'd spoken until the soft tread of footfalls drew me back.

"Okay. Out with it," Osmud said with a sigh, leaning against a spindly tree.

"I was close. So close. I had my hand raised to strike."

"Then what stopped you?" Garrat said.

"It was your cock. Wasn't it?" Osmud said before me.

I snorted. "Like I'd let that interfere with an important task."

"You've been withholding too long, my friend. It's not natural and plays havoc with your head."

"She's not to my taste." The lie was acid on my tongue.

"Then explain to us why the Razohan leader spared one woman at risk to the rest of his clan. That is not like you, Tamas," Garrat said.

"Because I'm sure she has a part to play. More than we believe." It was out before I could censor it. Having lost the taste of my mead, I threw the tankard's content away.

"You're not wrong there." Osmud said. "Only she's on the wrong side of this war. We don't want her playing her part. And I would've finished that for you."

"What if it's an important part?"

I didn't expect Osmud's fist to my jaw. It sent me stumbling backward, losing my tankard in the scrub.

"Did that knock some sense into your head?" he said.

I straightened, rubbing the pain away. It was nothing less than I needed. My two trusted were right to question my sanity, something I'd done these last days during our journey.

"A conversation with hands isn't going to get us anywhere," Garrat said, stepping between us.

"She's a disciple?"

"How can you be sure?" Osmud said, flexing his fingers.

"I felt her awareness probing me. She was looking for a way in to command me."

"Even more reason to have killed her," Garrat said. "I'm surprised it has taken the Sistern this long to force one of their own into the Tannard bloodline. That we can't allow."

"She's much more than a disciple."

"Would you listen to yourself?" Osmud said. "You've totally lost your head."

Garrat moved alongside Osmud. "What do you mean, Tamas?"

I rubbed my forehead, then shook my head. "I need to think on this."

"You better think fast," Osmud said.

Ignoring him, I continued. "You'll return with the rest of the men to the north and continue your efforts to win allegiance from the northern clans. Tell them they must prepare for war."

"So that part of the plan has not changed."

"Whether the princess lived or died, war was inevitable."

"And the augur's ramblings?" Garrat said.

"Not even Romelda can give us a precise time."

"The augur made it none too clear." Osmud downed the last of his mead.

"We'll act with speed. It's all we can do and hope the events foretold do not arrive in the meantime."

I looked at the two of them, my trusted. Both accepted my failure without argument or judgement. It was well I had them by my side, for I was the harsh judge of my actions. Had I condemned my people by allowing the princess to live?

The sound of approaching footfalls disturbed us.

Bryra's silhouette obscured the campfire. On seeing us turned toward her, she stopped. "Am I interfering?"

"What needs to be said has been said," Garrat replied. "Come on, Osmud."

I would've given them both spearing glares if I knew Bryra wouldn't see. They knew of Thaindrus's request, and both had the audacity to question why I'd refused.

It was our bloodlink to the Huungardred that ensured the Razohan's strength in the north. Few dared speak against us, but many of the larger clans were growing restless with our authority. Marriage between Razohan and the Huungardred would strengthen our position in the north and secure their survival. As leader of the Razohan, it was my duty to make strategic alliances, especially through marriage.

Garrat slowed on passing Bryra. "It's thanks to you we returned in almost full number. When you're finished listening to his morose ramblings, come sit by me, and I'll give you far better entertainment."

Maybe respect and friendship were enough in marriage to live a happy life. That's all I could give Bryra. That half of her was always in beast form meant nothing to me. She was breathtaking in any Razohan's eyes, a true leader for her people. If only I could love her.

"Have you come to berate me, too?" The awkwardness I'd felt toward her these last few years would never diminish our long-held friendship.

"I would never question your judgment."

"Then perhaps you should take those asses aside and have a strong word using your claws."

"They don't know you as I do."

Those few words drew the night down around us, sheltering us from the rest of my men at the campfire. The coward I was, it twitched my legs to turn and flee. When it came to the heart, honesty was tougher than political negotiations or war.

"I know you don't act without a secure plan. You see a benefit to the princess being alive. I understand."

I dipped my head, staring at my feet. If only Bryra's faith in me was not absolute. She was blind to my flaws. I already drowned under my own expectations; I couldn't shoulder hers. Truth be told, when I spared the princess, I'd acted on instinct, destroying most of my original plan. I'd never expected to discover a woman as intriguing as her. As I spiked my claw ready to strike, the augurs words played in my head, forcing me to question if she deserved to die. Perhaps her part in all of this was more important than any of us thought. All I could hope was I'd not condemned myself and my people.

"I don't have enough thanks in me for what you've done for us. This is none of the Huungardred's concern, and yet?—"

"It's your concern, and so it's my concern. You know I would fight beside you without question."

"You are one of the few I would choose by my side." I loathed to hurt my good friend. Perhaps it wasn't wise to have allowed her to come. Things between us were now awkward and that pained me.

I inhaled, then turned to face her. "Bryra?—"

"I know you have not answered Father. And I know why. And I understand."

I sighed. "I'm glad. I want nothing to destroy what we have."

She nodded. "It won't. Don't listen to my father. He was wrong to rush you. In his old age, Father has grown fearful. But I am young, with countless years to come. I can be patient. I know what you must do, and I understand the importance of that, for the good of us all."

"Thank you." But I wasn't sure exactly what I was thanking her for because I couldn't decide if she was referring to our friendship or something more. "Bryra?—"

"And I'm glad you didn't kill her. The House of Tannard are the ones deserving of that fate, not an innocent woman whose only flaw is having a womb."

"That means a lot to me. Thanks. Maybe you can convince the others."

If I was right about Tressya, she was more than a woman with a womb. So much more. Having met her only once, I couldn't be certain, but my instincts told me I was right.

"They're men. Of course, they never stop to think of her powerlessness in deciding her fate."

Was Bryra thinking of her own predicament here? Was she sore her father placed her in the middle of his own strategic alliance? "Are you?—?"

"She's not from the House of Tannard. So she's not our enemy. You still have time to stop the marriage and send her home."

"I do." Did Bryra want something else? Someone else? Or no marriage at all. Perhaps she wanted to rule alone.

"I have every faith in your judgment."

This was too much. I couldn't let her continue. Everyone's faith in my ability to do the right thing, succeed where none had tried before weighted every decision I made.

"You're a good man, Tamas. Strong in your heart, strong in your convictions. You will succeed for all of us."

"I will." There could be no question.