Tahn (4 page)

The night was well spent when the big man returned. Smelling of smoke and sweat, he burst through the door, and Netta jumped.

“Ho!” Darin laughed. “After tonight, the Triletts’ll be nothing but an old story. You could see the blaze of their high and mighty place from the town!” Netta’s heart pounded as he grinned and moved in her direction. “Awful shame for you, pretty lady,” he went on. “Might as well set your mind to consortin’ with us.”

She rose to her feet, determined that she would not give in to this man, regardless of the consequences. But he looked down at her unbound wrists and laughed. “You two been havin’ fun with the wait, have ya?” he chortled. “Fair enough. But it’s my turn now. Don’t ya be slappin’ me, girl, or I’ll make you well sorry.”

Neither of them paid any attention to Tahn until he was directly behind Darin, his sword already drawn. Netta gasped in fear, but Darin failed to notice that her eyes were focused past him. Until he felt the cold tip of Tahn’s sword against the back of his neck.

“You’re little more than a slave to Samis,” Tahn said. “Because of that, I will give you the chance to fight.” He drew back his sword, and Darin turned around.

“
You
would call
me
the slave?” Darin laughed. He wiped his palms on his tunic before drawing his sword. “Where is your haste to leave and finish your orders, little man?” he taunted. “You only slow us down. Go out and talk to your horse while I take the lady, and we’ll be on our way.”

“I will not travel with you, Darin,” Tahn said. “And I will never obey another order of Samis.”

“You are mad.”

“Then it is good madness and I claim it gladly. The lady is a praying one. Solicit her help while you can. You are leaving this world.”

Netta shrank back against the wall. Perhaps they were both crazy. Perhaps they would forget her in their conflict. But so far they remained between her and the door.

“I will kill you first, devil!” Darin shouted. He lifted his sword and rushed forward. The smaller man easily parried. Swords clashed, and Netta edged against the wall. But the fight did not last long. Her kidnapper had forced the sword from his opponent’s hand and thrust his own weapon into Darin’s thick middle. Netta was so close now to the door, but the small man whirled around and stopped her progress with the bloody sword point shoved to the wall just inches in front of her. Netta screamed and sank to the floor in broken sobs. The kidnapper grabbed her arm and pulled her up.

In the middle of the room, Darin was gasping for breath. Her captor brought his sword down again swiftly upon the big man’s throat.

Netta closed her eyes and shuddered. That anyone could kill like that, without so much as a blink …

“Come, now,” her captor said, interrupting her thoughts and pulling her to the door. His whistle was barely audible, but Smoke was in front of them in an instant. The kidnapper let his sword rest against the doorframe and lifted Netta to the back of his horse. He pulled a length of cord from a pack. “This will be the last time I do this,” he said. “They know this cottage. We will have to gain distance.”

He tied her hands together and then tied them to the peaked horn of his saddle. “I hate to take the time,” he continued. “But I must be rid of the body.” He took hold of Smoke’s head and seemed to be whispering to him as he had before. Then he turned to Netta and actually smiled. “He’s a good horse. He’ll watch you for me while I dig. Relax yourself. Neither of us will hurt you.”

He disappeared into the trees, selecting a concealed spot for a grave amidst the falling leaves. Netta struck her heels at the horse’s side. If she could just get the animal to walk away, perhaps she could direct it somehow toward the Rhodes farm or that of any other good-hearted people. But Smoke would not respond to her urging. He would not move at all except to jump slightly in protest at her continued kicking.

“Would think you were a dog, you lousy beast,” she sputtered. “What kind of a master can he be to you, anyway?”

She felt like screaming but doubted now that anyone would hear. Her captor had a mind for such details. Maybe if anyone did come, he would kill them like he had the big man called Darin. She kicked at the horse once more in her frustration, but he only turned his head to a stand of nodding bristlegrass near a tree. She was powerless, and it was a dreadful feeling indeed.

When Tahn finally had the grave filled over, he scattered fallen leaves and twigs across its surface to disguise it. In the same way, he covered the path where he had dragged the body to its resting place. It all looked again like undisturbed woodland. By the time he’d finished, the dawn light was edging its way above the horizon.

Tahn took a look into the cottage. There was no disguising the stain on its floor where the blood had seeped into the cracks of the rough wood.
Oh well,
he thought. This blood could not reveal its owner. Perhaps he could use it some way.

With a scarf from his pocket and water from the skin, he wiped the blade of his sword so it would not be sticky, and replaced it to his sheath. And he whistled, loud and shrill like Darin. The man’s strong horse lumbered out from the brush. Tahn sprung to the empty saddle and drove the horse quickly toward the rising sun. His own Smoke instantly followed.

They traveled without a pause for what seemed like hours. Netta was growing desperately weary, but Smoke continued his pursuit of his master. Finally, the man slowed.

“We are near a horse trader who asks no questions. I will leave you with Smoke again so the trader cannot say he saw you.” He patted the animal beneath him and sighed. “A shame to slaughter such a fine mount, but the trader will if I pay him to. For Darin to have run away with you, his horse will have to disappear too.”

Netta had nothing to say to this man who cared more for horses than for the men who rode them. She did not even want to look at him.

He left her in a thick grove of trees. “I expect no one,” he told her. “Though I know you would welcome someone to find you while I am gone. Should it happen, I wish you life. But if they are dressed as I am, scream with all the breath that is in you.”

He had done his whispering to Smoke, and he rode away.

This time the horse did not follow. And once again, Netta tried in vain to get the animal to respond to her directions. Smoke simply ignored her and turned to grazing. Even at that, he would not move more than a few yards. She would not have thought it possible.

No one came, and the wait was torturous. She struggled against the cord, but it only made her wrists raw. She thought she should pray again, but the weight of despair seemed to crush her very heart into the dust. So she wept bitterly as the wind began to whip about her with an unwelcome autumn chill.

When she finally heard the approach of a horse, her heart pounded.
Let it be a kindly, common man,
she prayed,
who will have the conscience to help me.

But it was the killer returning. He rode a different horse that was plain looking but strong. He gave a little whistle as he turned again to the northeast, and Smoke joined him gladly.

Tahn said nothing, but he saw the pain of his prisoner. He had wanted to push the horses and hurry on. He was desperate to move as quickly as possible. But he couldn’t push Netta so. He knew she could not understand that what he did he meant for good.

He took them to a tiny stream that snaked through the dense woodland. When he unwound the cord from the horn of the saddle, he saw the angry red of her wrists. Her eyes were puffy and her face was streaked with the mixture of trail dust and tears. He lifted her down as gently as he could and led her to the water’s edge.

He took her wrists and the cord around them into his hands and sought her eyes. But she turned her head away. “Promise me you’ll not run,” he said.

But she wouldn’t. She just stared at the horses as they drank.

Though he’d gained no assurance, he helped her to sit, knelt in front of her, and carefully loosed the cord.

He could tell that the movement hurt her wrists, especially the right one, though she said not a word. She did not resist as he pulled her arms toward the cold water; she only shivered just a little as it washed over her wrists. But as he lifted his hands toward the scarf at her throat, she jumped to her feet with a cry. Quickly, he caught her elbow. “Wait,” he said, pulling her down again. “I know what I am to you, and that we will never get past that, but let me help you. Please. While I can.”