Sira appeared just outside the courtyard next to the castle. Above, Fraenir circled, and she could see a young man, no more than eighteen, kneeling in front of Klavon.
She tilted her head and paused—Klavon would not be pleased. For her to go against his wishes and look after the boy…look for Prydon…had been a risky move and one she did not endeavor upon lightly.
Years before, it was Fraenir who almost died—at the clawed hands of Prydon—and even though Prydon had been deeply wounded, she was not so prideful, as Klavon and Fraenir, to believe him dead.
And she was correct—Prydon lived, and had she neglected her instincts, the boy would have listened to Prydon’s counsel, and Klavon would have lost his prize.
Stepping out into the courtyard, she inhaled deeply, knowing what she must do. She quietly approached Klavon who ignored her, glaring down at the young man.
“You will never speak against me again,” said Klavon, “or you will die…”
“My death it nothing compared to your cruelty,” said the young man. “If I have convinced but one—”
“Then your father will die!”
At this, the young man hesitated. “You are a coward, threatening an old man’s life.”
“Perhaps, but I think not. Now, do we have a deal?” sneered Klavon.
The young man’s jaw tensed, and reluctantly he nodded agreement.
Sira stood silently by—she would not interfere. She had seen Klavon exact his punishment on many—the pile of bones at the edge of the courtyard his trophy—and now was no different.
“Sira,” said Klavon.
“I have news,” she said, not looking at the young man.
“Speak then. What is it?”
“This is news best fit for private discourse,” she said.
Something compelled her to glance at the young man. He looked up at her, and for a brief moment, he held her gaze. In his eyes, she witnessed his thoughts. She could not label it, but the closest she could come was to say it was…resolve, unbreakable and strong. Then he lowered his eyes and remained focused on the ground in front of him, in expectation of the sorcerer’s wrath.
Curious. Most in the region knew that if they were brought before Klavon, it was not likely they would leave…alive. And the fear they exhibited was unmistakable. Their bodies would shake and their faces would beg mercy. But this one…
Sira had never been bothered by Klavon’s need to vent his frustrations out on the local peasantry, but for a moment, she felt…compassion? She brushed her thoughts aside and looked at Klavon.
“It is of great interest to you, I am sure. Perhaps you should send this one on his way. You have more urgent matters,” she said. She was slightly amused at her own words. But no, it was not compassion she felt—it was respect, and it would be a shame to see such strength vanquished.
Klavon raised a brow and said, “This one has spoken ill of me. You would have me release him?”
“Was that not your agreement?” Sira said, glancing only a moment at the young man, her eyes showing none of her desire. “But do as you will, and do it quickly. Trust me when I say there are more urgent matters.”
Klavon hesitated, tilting his head at Sira. He stared at her, and without looking at the young man, he said, “Leave. Remember what I have said. And know that there will be no compassion should we meet again.”
The man hesitated, looked over at Sira, and then rose. He backed away a few steps before turning and walking slowly and purposefully to the edge of the courtyard.
Klavon’s scrutiny broke from Sira long enough to see the man retreat, and he laughed.
“Prydon lives,” she said deliberately, drawing his gaze back to her.
Klavon’s eyes widened and his jaw tensed. “How? How would you know?”
“I went to the mire. To watch…just in case.”
“So you did doubt me!” Klavon yelled.
“No, I did not,” Sira said calmly. Behind Klavon, she could see the young man disappear into the woods. “I simply felt it was wise to be cautious. This is too important to leave to—”
“So you believe me unwise and incapable of recognizing the importance of this?” Klavon raised his staff and looked at the trees where his prisoner had escaped.
“Of course not!” Sira shot back, louder than she’d intended.
A moment’s pause caught Klavon’s breath, and he glared at her.
She raised her chin slightly and she added, “I want only to help you…to serve you. Your energies are better served dealing with Prydon.”
“You think me so weak that you would control my actions.” Klavon yelled. “Fraenir!”
Sira closed her eyes for a moment and then watched as Fraenir dove into the trees. She heard a scream, not of fear but of pain, and the beast appeared above the courtyard. His claws pierced the shoulders of the young man, and for one brief instant, Sira saw the man’s face as he struggled to break free…still no fear.
Fraenir shrieked and dropped the man as lightning blazed from the end of Klavon’s staff. In a matter of seconds, bare bones fell to the ground, adding to the already mounding pile.
Sira looked at Klavon with a vacant expression. “Pity. Had you been able to convert him, he would have made a strong addition. In any case, as you wish…as always. I care not.” She bowed and turned from the courtyard. Before she entered the castle, she looked back at the pile of bones. Such a waste.
Chapter Six
A Peculiar Meeting