"We would be good together," he continued, as if they were conversing over a glass of wine instead of fighting to the death in the mud. "I would grow to be the young man you wanted, and you'd never see old age. With your knowledge, we'd have an endless supply of microbiotics. We could test the drug's limits, push our own. Live forever."
Lake had thought the same thing. With the deterioration of aging stopped, what would prevent a person from living forever? The implications were mindboggling, the amount of power terrifying.
"We could be the king and queen of this world. Have everything we wanted."
"It would never work," Lake said. Exhausted, she stepped back and let her sword tip point toward the ground. "Someone else would figure out the formula. Soon microbiotics would be as common as the lilies of the field."
Rameses braced his hands on his knees, catching his breath. But Lake wasn't fooled. He was allowing her time to think about his offer. He didn't want her dead; he wanted her by his side. "I think you overestimate the intelligence of the common people. Regardless, I'm not saying that there wouldn't be causalities."
She lifted one shoulder in an attempt at nonchalance. "As the saying goes, rulers come into power on the backs of the people."
"Exactly." Rameses smiled.
"Exactly." Lake smiled back, then stood and stretched her lower back. "But I want one thing in return."
With the threat of death gone, Rameses could afford his veneer of polish. He bent down in a full flourished bow. "Anything my queen. All you need to do is ask."
Lake slicked her hair back from her eyes. "I want you not to live forever."
Then she ran him through with her blade.
Chapter Eight
For the love of The Path, what was that racket? The Marker covered his eyes with his palm. The pounding must be from inside his head. After the Marking, he'd left the besotted couple and had gone in search of the celebratory wine. The farmer's men had been loud and crude and not really up to entertaining an Elder. That was fine with him. He didn't mix well with common men.
He'd taken a bottle of wine and had made his way back inside to the unlit fireplace. That was the last thing he remembered.
He checked the bottle. Still almost full. What had been in that wine? Some sort of drug was his guess. Whatever it was caused the worst pounding and screaming a man could bear. His head had pounded before from overindulging, but screaming? Never.
No, the screaming wasn't coming from inside his head. It was coming from—he cracked open an eyelid. Heaven and hell, was that coming from the bedroom? He'd seen his share of nervous brides, but this racket? No, that gal had been more than ready for her husband. He would've asked to share if he'd thought the farmer would've been up for it.
The clamor wasn't stopping. He'd get no peace until it was silenced. On creaking knees, he pushed himself up and shuffled to the door. He tried the knob. Locked. Turned the key and tried again.
The door flew open. He was thrown and landed solidly on his backside. He watched a crazed man rush down the hall bellowing that he had to go find a lake.
Fine. Go. Find a lake. Jump in a lake. What did he care? All he wanted was to close his eyes and check if the noise in his skull had quieted. He peered into the bedroom to see if he'd be bowled over by anyone else screaming for what? A river this time? He rolled his eyes, but stopped—hurt too much. The room was empty, except for a bed. A big beautiful empty bed with no one to sleep in it.
He smiled, and thinking that standing was too much trouble, he crawled on his hands and knees to his sweet reward.
***
Lake had missed.
Her blade had failed to pierce his heart and caught the fleshy part of his shoulder instead. Rameses stepped back and hissed. He touched his wound, his fingers darkening with blood. He wiped them on his robe as he readied his stance for another attack. "You made the wrong choice. Like father like daughter; stupid must run in the family lines."
Lake stopped trying to control her fear. Panic had her breath coming in pants. She blinked to clear her eyes of water. She hoped they weren't wet because of tears.
In her mind's eye she saw Vonn. His blonde curls. Blue eyes. She saw her parents. Her father's wrinkled grin. Her mother's reddened, weathered hands.
She saw Hudson. His tussled brown hair. His eyes when he looked at her. The roughness of his jaw.
So sorry
. She saw Hudson in his bed and what would happen when Rameses came for him. This time she knew her vision blurred from tears.
She gritted her teeth. Couldn't feel her arms. She needed both hands to steady her blade.
When had her sword gotten so heavy?
Rameses moved as if part snake. Quick. Strike. Repeat.
When had he gotten so fast?
Another flash of his steel, a sharp pain in her wrist, and her sword went flying. She watched her blade fall to the ground, muddy water splashing in an upward ring.
"Onnn. Yooouuurrr. Kneeesss," Rameses said, his voice distorted. So loud, yet so far away.
Lake couldn't have remained standing if she wanted too. Her knees buckled. Water splashed in her mouth. She tasted dirt. Or was it defeat?
Watch the man, not his weapons.
But she couldn't help it. His naked steel glowed red in the torch light. From blood? Had he wounded her? She didn't feel any pain. Soon she wouldn't even feel the cold.
He stepped to her side. His blade felt wet and cold as it rested along the back of her neck. Chills prickled her skin. Funny, she thought she was past that reflex. Out of the corner of her eye she watched his hand drag his sword across her flesh. The steel cut deep. She flinched from the sting. Her hair fell in wet clumps by her knees. Not the death blow then, just the mark.
"You've been marked for execution."
All part of the game. Rameses was a showman to the end. But she wouldn't let her parents' murderer be the last thought to fill her mind. She wouldn't close her eyes. She wouldn't let his voice be the last that she heard. In her mind she saw Hudson. This time his hair was black with rain. His shirt transparent and plastered to his skin. And he was running.
She smiled. So this was what a person saw before they died. She was glad it was Hudson who would lead her to the next place. Glad she didn't have to be alone. A robed figure stepped in front of her husband, sword in hand. It was only then, with a flash of dark iron and light steel, she noticed Hudson had his axe and his sword. The Elder went down in a crumple of fabric. Then another man attacked, but suffered the same fate—his fallen body merely an obstacle for Hudson to leap over.
Hudson's mouth moved. Had he screamed something or was it the thunder? She wanted to tell him something also. She wanted to tell him…what? That she was glad that it was over. Glad her fight was done. Vonn was safe. Hudson had been her reward.
Or that she was sorry?
Sorry, that he had gotten too close to her. Or that Rameses would have him killed. Or sorry that there hadn't been enough time for them.
Do it now. This was her chance. She tried to form the words, but her whole body was numb. Had her lips moved?
Then Rameses sword whistled through the air. And Hudson’s expression changed from rage to fear.
It's all right.
He raised his axe. Aimed. And threw it at her head.
Chapter Nine
"Nooooooo." His scream vibrated at the base of his skull and sounded down into his chest.
Never make it. Too far away. Not fast enough
.
When he'd first ran out into the wet night and saw Lake on her knees, an Elder behind her, a sword at her neck, his world hazed red. The sky wept blood.
There was a moment when a robed man had tried to block Hudson's way.
Fool.
Hudson had pulled him in close, severed his hamstring and then his neck. The man went down, dead before he even hit the ground. Another man tried. Another sword swung. Another dead body to add to the count.
Then there was nothing between him and Lake.
Never make it
.
He could see Lake's face, wet in the rain, blue eyes focused on him. The Elder with the sword raised his arm. In a flash of light, his blade sliced the back of her neck. Hudson stumbled.
"You've been marked for execution," said the Elder, his voice traveling on the wind.
Faster.
Hudson was running. He
had
to be running, except everything was so slow and Lake was still too far away. He watched the clumps of her wet hair fall to the ground. A few strands floated on the puddle by her knees.
Her mouth formed words. Screw that. She would
not
say good-bye to him. He would not let her die. Not here. Not at the hands of some monster.
His gaze never left her eyes. He lifted his axe and threw.
***
Something warm sprayed Lake's cheek. She jerked her head up and blinked at Rameses' face split wide. An axe buried dead center.
This was no vision.
Lake whipped back around. Hudson charged at her, naked steel in his hand, a warrior's cry on his lips.
And
this was no angel.
If Rameses weren't dead already, he would've been after Hudson separated his head from his body. Hudson wasted no time. He walked over, braced his boot against the lopped off head and recovered his axe. Then turned toward her.
His weapons were tightly gripped and ready at his sides. Gore splattered his shirt. His hair wept dark rivulets down his face. His lips were wet with blood.
Lake sat stunned. She was so sure she was going to die. So sure that stepping out of Hudson's house would've been the last thing she had done. She had no contingency plan. There was no after for her.
Hudson was by her side and raising her to her feet. His brown eyes were hooded and dark. Rage swarmed their depths, and for the first time she glimpsed at what men on the pointy side of his blade saw. She swallowed.
"Rule one. Never turn a lock against me."
She nodded, but had started to come out of her fog. Realizing they weren't out of danger, she grabbed her sword. She took up the position of guarding her husband's back, surprised at how easy it was to become his partner. "I thought rule number one was not to kill you?"
Men came at them from both sides. Lake readied her weapon, a reserve of adrenaline charging through her body.
"Consider rule number one to have both an A and B part to it."
Lake laughed, which sounded strange against the bass beat of war. Against the sound of men's screams, the clash of steel and the howl of dogs. Dogs?
Lake looked and saw the bared fangs of the hounds as they charged through the mud and rain. Hudson's men weren't far behind.
"About bloody time," Hudson muttered, as he pushed her aside and delivered her would-be attacker a death blow.
Only a handful of Elders remained standing. With their numbers greatly reduced and their leader dead, the call for retreat was sounded.
Of course, no one called off the hounds from hell.
The torches that hadn't been doused by the rain were quickly extinguished as they one by one were dropped to the ground. Lake was glad. She'd seen enough killing to last a lifetime. Besides, the screams and growls were more than sufficient.
A few of Hudson's men ran into the night to chase after the dogs. Most stayed by their master, a few still unsteady on their feet.
"Where the hell were you?" Hudson shouted.
A shorter man with dark features and straight black hair shrugged, though his face held the pale look of worry. "Sorry, Hudson. We're not sure what happened. One moment we were toasting to your Marking, and the next we woke to the sounds of battle."
"Rameses admitted to drugging the wine," Lake said. There was a cold burning on her arm. She looked down and saw a dark bloom spreading along her sleeve. "He followed the Marker to me. It was his plan to take me as his wife all along. He killed my parents because my father refused his suit in the first place. His raid for contraband had only been a convenient excuse."
"Then he was the one?"
She looked at Rameses and nodded.
"I'm so sorry," he said, putting his arm around her waist and leading her into the house. "I should've held him down while you ran him through with your sword."
Lake looked up at him. Maybe it was the exhaustion of the battle or simply the joy of living another day, but for the first time she realized the weight in her heart was gone. "No, I'm just glad he's dead."
"So am I."
Chapter Ten
A few weeks hadn't been enough time for the nightmares to totally fade. But it had been enough time to find comfort in Hudson's arms and learn to fall back asleep after the nightmares. There'd been a week when Lake had awakened, panic-stricken, by a hoot of an owl. It wasn't long afterwards Hudson had made sure to put owl stew on the menu. That had been the first night she'd slept the whole way through.
Life took on a certain rhythm that wasn't unpleasant. Animals needed to be taken care of. Land needed to be tended. Lake was glad for the busyness. It kept her from worrying about Vonn.
Lake was hunched over with a mare's hoof between her legs, cleaning out the grass and mud around the shoe. It was hard work, but at least summer had broken its hold and there was a hint of cooler weather that blew through the barn doors.
"Men!" a shout came from the outside.
Lake's hand was on the hilt of her sword before she was fully upright. But instead of running outside, she froze. Panic had her in its grip. Her hand covered her belly. She wasn't sure if she wanted to fight or to hide. For the first time she realized she had a choice.
Hudson had placed guards around his farm ever since the night Rameses had come. Knowing that killing Elders would bring repercussions, Hudson made sure his men were ready for danger. Whether he'd wanted to or not, Hudson had chosen his alliance.