Chapter 8
Rhys sat, with heavy thoughts, in his solar.
He knew all too well how kind his wife was, having proven it yesterday with how unselfishly she had helped those in need.
He had not, however, realized the extent of her determination or curiosity.
She let nothing stop her when either took flight and she had proven that not only with her questions but with the way she had kissed him.
The passion that had flared in her blue eyes had surprised him as had her kiss. She had not been shy at all. It was almost as if she kissed someone familiar to her, and he wondered if he reminded her of the man she once loved.
Her father had made it quite clear to him that she loved another and always would and nothing would change that, but it had not mattered to him.
He wanted Heather, ached for her gentle smile, her selflessness, her tender touch.
If anyone could cope with the darkness that consumed him at every turn, she could.
Though, one question continued to plague him—was it fair to Heather? Would she truly be able to survive his darkness, or would he pull her down into its dark depths?
A knock sounded at the door and it opened before he bid anyone to enter.
“I saw Heather talking with some of the villager folk, so I knew you would be alone,” Pitt said, entering the room and closing the door behind him.
“Get us a drink and sit. There are things that need to be discussed,” Rhys said.
Pitt filled two goblets with wine and handed one to Rhys before sitting in the chair across from him. “There has been no success with the hunt. If a wolf or some beast of the forest is not brought back, concern will grow.”
Rhys swallowed a good portion of his wine before saying, “And if the villagers learn the truth of it, fear will spread like wildfire.”
“The men will hold their tongues.”
“But for how long? And do not tell me that tongues have not begun to wag about the warriors who attacked us. The ghost warriors that died were less seasoned ones. If it had not been for the experienced warriors with me, then no one would have survived. And with our warriors trained to pay attention to everything that goes on around them at all times, they will begin to see that I am relying more heavily on seasoned warriors. This will not be able to be contained for long, especially when this particular enemy will toy with us, instilling more and more fear in our people. Then, when he is ready, he will strike and strike hard, leaving nothing in his wake.”
“What do we do?” Pitt asked.
“More men will be needed, but we also cannot leave our home vulnerable to an attack. Send Innis to me, he will deliver the necessary messages. Are the bodies wrapped and prepared for burial?”
“Henry’s injury has delayed him, but he will be seeing to it shortly.”
“Good. I do not want the bodies revealed to anyone, and Henry will make sure of it.”
“When do you intend to make the men aware of the enemy they face?” Pitt asked.
“I have no doubt they are already aware of it. Their concern would be in how we deal with it.”
* * *
It was a beautiful day with a warm breeze drifting across the land, but there were few smiles on peoples’ faces.
Heather easily understood why. With the attack on the troop yesterday, the numerous injuries suffered, and the two sentinels supposedly being killed by a wolf, the people did not feel safe.
And she imagined that that was an unusual occurrence for those loyal to the Dark Dragon.
Heather followed her usual morning routine of walking through the village with a smile and kind greetings.
At home, she would inquire of those who had not been feeling well or stop to speak with the women expecting babes.
And if there was a minor complaint or dispute, she would settle it there and then, so her father did not have to be disturbed by small matters.
She had found it made for a more pleasant day for all.
But today she also had another reason to talk with all she met. She wanted to discover what she could about the mysterious things happening here and loose tongues or innocent remarks could often prove useful.
After having engaged three women in conversation and not finding out anything she did not already know, Heather spotted the barn and made her way over there toward the man who stood guard in front of the closed doors.
He was one of the warriors she had treated yesterday.
He had suffered a minor wound that would not even leave a scar on his arm, though it would be sore for a few days.
She smiled as she approached him. “All is well with your wound, Sim?”
He returned her smile. “Aye, thanks to you, my lady. Elma, my wife, changed the bandage today as you said I should. She looks forward to meeting you and thanking you for helping me.”
“I was only too glad to help. I only wish I could have helped the two poor souls you watch over.”
Sim shook his head slowly. “A shame it is. Hyatt and Neil were good men, but the Dragon will see the wolf that killed them caught and revenge their deaths. Henry and his men will be here soon to wrap them for burial.”
“Then I will say a silent prayer for them as I pick some flowers along the edge of the woods.”
“Do not go into the woods, my lady. Danger lurks there until the beast is caught.”
“I will not stray from the edge,” she said with a cheerful smile. “You take care of that wound, Sim, and if it should trouble you let me know.”
“Thank you, my lady, you are most kind.”
Heather went to the edge of the woods and began picking the wildflowers that grew there, intending to take them to Bea when she went to see how Douglas was faring.
Heather continued to drift along the edge of the woods, making her way behind the barn.
When Sim’s glance finally ceased following her, she knew other eyes had to be on her.
With all that had happened, her husband probably had doubled or tripled the sentries so that there were eyes everywhere on the village.
It was when she spotted a lose board on the back of the barn that she got an idea. She looked at her handful of flowers and smiled, as if pleased with the bouquet. She walked without haste away from the woods, though stopped abruptly, staring down and shook her head.
She pretended that she had stepped in something unsavory and went to lean against the barn with one hand while wiping her boot along the grass as if cleaning it off. She only hoped that whoever had an eye on her would get tired of her actions after a few minutes and take his eyes off her.
Hoping she picked the right moment, she squeezed behind the loose board and slipped into the barn. Sunlight filtered through the numerous cracks and holes in the worn barn and it was easy to locate the two bodies. They lay on the ground in a stall, blankets covering each of them.
Heather knew she did not have much time.
She had to take a quick look and be on her way and pray she did not get caught.
She placed the flowers on a nearby barrel top and lifted the blanket covering one of the warriors.
No claw marks marred his body. Her heart broke for him, for he was a young, strong warrior and the only wound she could see was a wound to his chest, no doubt made by an arrow.
She said a silent prayer as she dropped the blanket over him.
Her free hand shot to her mouth to stifle her gasp when she raised the blanket on the other warrior. His eyes had been gorged from his head and his throat had been cut. This had been done on purpose. It was meant as a message, a clear one, and fear rushed up to grip her heart.
Heather heard voices approach and quickly dropped the blanket down, grabbed her flowers, and hurried to the broken board, slipping out with ease, only to turn and see her husband standing there with his arms folded across his chest and his dark eyes filled with anger.
“Do you truly think that I do not have eyes on you at all times?” he snapped. “What excuse do you have for your actions now? And do not tell me you were restless.”
She spoke the truth. “I was curious.”
“Of two dead warriors?”
“Of their deaths. I could not make sense of why you would be summoned away from your bride because two of your warriors had been mauled to death by a wolf. You could have been told of it in the morning.”
“It is none of your concern,” he said in a tone that warned. “And you will speak of this to no one. Now go to my solar and wait for me there.” He raised his hand when she went to speak. “Not a word. Go!”
Heather had no choice but to obey. She hurried around the side of the barn and stopped when she saw Henry and two other men enter. They would wrap the bodies for burial and only a few would know the truth and whether a wolf was caught or not, a beast still remained on the loose.
“Go!” her husband said as he came up alongside her.
She bobbed her head and walked off, glancing back to see Rhys enter the barn, the doors closing behind him.
“My lady! My lady!”
The frantic voice had Heather turning around to see Bea running toward her.
“Douglas is beset with fever,” Bea said with tears in her eyes and fear in her voice.
Heather did not hesitate; she hurried along with the desperate woman.
* * *
Rhys stood as the two murdered men were swathed in cloth, their graves ready and waiting to receive them.
Their families consisted of ghost warriors, both having arrived together and trained together three years now.
They had met up on the road in hopes of joining and becoming one of the infamous ghost warriors.
They were good warriors, filled with the potential to be the best and Rhys hated losing them, especially in this fashion.
Neither deserved to die, and certainly not to die in the manner one had.
Their deaths would be revenged and all the ones to follow, for his enemy was not done with him yet.