To Buy A Wife

Chapter 8

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 fire place. 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 over indulging, but screaming? Never.

No, the screaming wasn't coming from inside his head. It was coming from—he cracked 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 cracking knees, he pushed himself up and shuffled to the door. He tried the knob. Locked. He slide the dead bolt over 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. Face of Ram 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 Face of Ram 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?

Face of Ram 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," Face of Ram 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 him pull hard. 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. Face of Ram 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 figured 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 ax 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 Face of Ram 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 Face of Ram sword whistled through the air. And Hudson expression changed from rage to fear. Too late. He raised his ax. Aimed. And threw it at her head.