Thank you for the continued support of the story. A special thanks to KBlack25 and DarylDixon'sLover, who have reviewed since the beginning, it absolutely means the world to me! On that note, I encourage everyone to review, I won't be that person who demands reviews every chapter, but of course it does make a gal feel good. Enjoy!
KBlack25 - As for me using Commander Mormont, it was purely accidental and a remnant of the previous timeline. I have gone back and changed it, but thanks for pointing it out to me! Hopefully, that doesn't put you out.
Chapter 6
The night was deceptively peaceful. The sky was clear allowing starlight and moonlight to help navigate the lone rowboat to land. A distant glow in the horizon from the burning ship was the only evidence of the atrocious crimes that had transpired that evening. A small breeze lifted small wisps of Desmera's hair and tickled her nose. She barely felt the nuisance as she glared at the passengers of the vessel. She was positioned at the front of the boat facing the stern and four sets of murderous eyes. She sat up straight and proud despite her bound hands and the cloth that gagged her. All but one pair of eyes contained repulsive, lecherous expressions. The exception was staring pensively at his hands. Desmera was furious that Alric didn't have the courage to look her in the eyes after everything he had done. She scoffed internally. A coward and a bastard. This was the man who had been the sole occupant of her thoughts the last week and she was utterly ashamed and angry. Ashamed that she didn't have better judgment and angry because she had been distracted by this pretender. Instead of him, her thoughts should have been on the location of the ship. Instead of him, she should have been learning the names of each and every sailor that laid lifelessly on the boat.
Desmera desperately wished she had insisted that Angeline stayed on Arbor with her betrothed. Oh gods, she thought. Angeline. Smart, beautiful and loyal Angeline was gone. Her life prematurely taken from this world, her body never to be lain to rest, and it was all Desmera's fault. A familiar prickle at the back of Desmera's eyes forced her to desist her scorn, close her eyes and take a deep steadying breath. Her grandmother's voice rang through her ears.
Never let anyone have the advantage of seeing how you truly feel. Give them nothing that matters for your enemies will perceive them as weaknesses and exploit them against you.
The young woman couldn't allow these monsters to see her cry anymore. She wouldn't give them the sick pleasure of seeing her misery. Besides, her face already itched uncomfortably from her previous tears. She took another deep breath, causing Alric to finally look up from his hands. She lifted her chin and met his gaze. His brow furrowed and he opened his mouth as though he was going to say something but then, as if he suddenly remembered present company, he promptly shut it. It was for the best, she thought bitterly, there was nothing he could say that she wanted to hear, except of course, unless he was going to tell her to wake up and that this was all a dream. A horrible, vivid dream.
But Desmera knew, deep down, that it wasn't a dream. The heat from the flames of the ship and the pungent, tangy smell of blood had been too strong to be anything but real.
The air was stale with a common stench of sweat, ale, and cheap scented oils. The boisterous patrons of The Ruby Crown were deep in their cups, oblivious to the three cloaked figures that entered the pub. All, except one. Alric Waters had specifically chosen his table: his back was to none but a wall and he had a perfect scope of the entire establishment, including its entrance. He casually peered over the brim of his mug, feigning a long gulp as he assessed the new comers with sharp eyes. Two larger figures flanked the sides of the middle, smaller figure as though protecting him. The trio made their way through the crowd, largely ignored by the merrymakers, headed for his table. Surprise would have etched its way onto his face, were he not a disciplined killer.
"Are you the one they call Waters?" a deep voice questioned.
"There are a lot who answer to that name I'm afraid," Alric responded flippantly, wiping a speck of dust off the rim of his pint.
"We have little patience for games, boy," the deep voice said and Alric's jaw ticked. "Is your name Waters or not?"
"Perhaps if you told me what it is exactly that you want, I could point you in the right direction?" The man who had been talking let out a growl, when the middle figure put a staying hand on their companions shoulder.
"I believe one such as yourself is only approached for one matter," a confident, feminine voice chimed. This time, surprise did find its way onto the young man's face. He did not expect a woman to speak. "I have need of a sell sword, of moderate intelligence, and you have come highly recommended." He could not make out the hooded face of the female before him, and it put him at unease. Her delicate hand disappeared into her cloak before tossing out a leather pouch. A small clink could be heard as it landed on the table in front of him, no doubt payment for whatever the lady's request might be. "Have I your cooperation now, young assassin?"
Alric reached for the coins, tossing the hefty weight into the air a few times.
"I'm listening."
The gentle sloshing of water as the oars sliced through the sea did nothing to soothe Alric as he furiously thought of a way to save Desmera. They were meeting his employer's contact at an inn on the outskirts of Rainswood. If he had any hopes of keeping Desmera safe, they needed gold, and the contact would have the second half of the sum of gold he and his companions were promised upon completion of their task. He had only but one option to keep the lady safe, he must dispose of the other four men in the boat. He was confident of his abilities as a killer, but while the other men were dim, they were also experienced mercenaries. Not for the first time, Alric cursed himself for enlisting their help on this mission.
He had the distinct advantage of surprise on his side as he doubted any of the men suspected his change of heart, but that would hardly be enough to ensure his success, and he was reluctant to gamble Desmera's and his life on it. Luckily, he had the foresight to snag two bottles of whisky from the Captain's private stock. Drunk men were easier to subdue. Once they were pliable, he could easily separate and overpower each one.
A deep sigh broke his reverie. He hated seeing Desmera this way, bound and gagged by his own hand. She was trying to glare at him, though it was rendered less effective due to her puffy eyes. He wanted to tell her everything would be alright, but that would be a lie. Everything was not alright. She had witnessed the brutal murders of dozens of men, among them her dear friend and sworn knight. He had wrought this destruction upon her, and he had enough experience with death to know that the nightmares never faded. He might be able to spare her life, but she was doomed to relive this night for the remainder of her mortal life. Alric was unable to look at her any longer, how could he when he was responsible for her misery?
He lost track of time in the small boat. He couldn't be sure if it had been two hours or two minutes when he finally felt the vessel scrape against the shore. Thankfully, Alric could see no other persons on the dark beach, and he could make out the forest in the distance, no more than one or two miles away. They needed to take cover as soon as possible.
"Alright, men," Alric said, "We need to make camp someplace where others won't be able to hear our esteemed companion." He hated making her believe that he was going to allow them to rape her, but it was a necessary evil.
Grenard laughed loudly. "I knew ya was a dog underneath that fancy talk, just like the rest of us! No man can resist the call of a soft, warm body. Isn't tha' right, lads?" The other men laughed boorishly as they stepped out of the boat and pushed it out of the water.
"Let's just get going before anyone sees us," Waters said shortly. He grabbed Desmera's bound hands and gently pulled, hoping she would cooperate without resorting to roughness. She refused to move, turning her head away haughtily.
"Come along, Lady Desmera," he said coaxingly. She ignored him.
Grenard grumbled. "Enough of this brat's tantrum!" The large man grabbed the woman and tossed her over his shoulder, making sure to leave his hand on her rear end. She kicked and screamed, though it was muffled, as she struggled against his beastly frame. She didn't want him to touch her, those hands had been responsible for Angeline and Ser Tomas' death. "Stop your squirmin' before I make ya!" Instantly, her body became stock still. Grenard started stomping his way towards the cover of foliage, the rest of the men grabbing their supplies and following him.
Desmera was unceremoniously dropped onto the floor of the forest. The small group had made little work of their trek and had found a small clearing suitable for their purposes. Not a minute too soon, either, for a light sprinkle had started once they reached the wooded area and had now transformed into a full blown storm. Luckily, the trees were dense and big enough to provide moderate shelter from the cold element.
"We need to start a fire," Alric called, his voice barely heard over the rain.
"Good luck tryna find dry wood in this storm, Waters! Bloody freezing I am!" Grenard bellowed.
"Perhaps this might warm you up," Alric uncovered the two bottles of whisky and tossed one to the scarred giant.
"Ha ha! A bloody fine thief you'd make Waters!" Grenard pulled the cork from the top of the bottle with his teeth before taking a large swig and passing it to the other men.
"We need a plan before we get too drunk. We won't be able to make contact until tomorrow evening." He was getting concerned for Desmera who was shivering in her wet clothes. "Avery, see if you can find something for us to eat. Umbert, fresh drinking water. Grenard and Crantz, try and find anything dry enough to burn for a fire. I'll stay with the prisoner and hold down the campsite."
"Now, hold up there, Waters," Grenard said. "We ain't leaving you with the pretty lady, how dumb do you think we are?" Incredibly, Alric thought. He was hoping to be the one to stay with Desmera, trusting the others little with keeping their hands to themselves. However, if he carried out his plan quick enough, he would be back before anything truly horrible could transpire.
"Fine, you stay here then. I'll help Crantz with the fire. Just try and leave some whisky for the rest of us, yeah?" The big man was appeased.
"We'll see abou' that, Waters!" With one last glance towards the girl, Alric followed Crantz out of the clearing. He needed to hurry if he wanted to make sure the giant oaf didn't hurt Desmera anymore than he already had.
"Fine, bloody job you assigned us, Waters," Crantz said displeased. He turned his small back on Alric, occasionally turning over logs with his foot. The young man responded when he felt they were far enough away from camp.
"It could be worse, Crantz."
"How so?" he asked as he turned to face the man.
"You could be dead." Before Crantz could register what he said, Alric struck his heart with a dagger efficiently. The mercenary fell forward, Alric sidestepping to avoid his path. The rain drowned out the subsequent thump and Alric made quick work of moving the body behind some shrubs. It would be easy to spot the body in the morning, but it would serve well enough in the dead of night. Adrenaline pumping, he grabbed the deceased's weapons, two daggers and a sword, and hastily fastened them to his person.
Now, he just needed to track down Avery and Umbert. Easy enough, as he could hear the former singing a ditty only a 15 or so meters away. Stealthily he weaved his way through the forest. He rolled his eyes in annoyance, if he had actually expected Avery to return with food, the foolish man would have come back empty handed, with all the racket he was making. Alric grabbed one of Crantz's daggers and threw it at the singing sell sword's back. Avery choked out a startled cry and lifted a hand to his back, as though in disbelief. He spun belligerently on his heel, eyes wide when he was greeted by Waters. Without remorse, Alric placed both hands on his head and snapped the man's neck. He grabbed the dagger, wiped the blood on Avery's shirt, and grabbed the dead man's bow and quiver.
He could hear the gentle babbling of a creek nearby and he went in the direction of the running water to find Umbert. Alric found the elder man hunched down, filling the water skins. With the bow, he notched an arrow, took a steadying breath and let it fly. Quickly, he aimed another, and another. With a loud splash, Umbert fell into the creek face first. Alric approached cautiously, another arrow ready to fire just in case. He kicked the man over onto his back and saw that Umbert was, indeed, dead with a dribble of blood excreting from his mouth. Satisfied, he grabbed the water skins, moved up stream and refilled them.
Three down, only one more to go, he thought. Grenard would be his biggest challenge, but he was hoping that the beast had finished most of the bottle and would be well on his way to intoxication. Alric made his way to back to the camp, making sure to deposit his newly acquired gear in a tree stump he could easily retrace his steps to. He found a few dry twigs and sticks for kindling and reemerged into the clearing.
His eyes first found Desmera, who was huddled in the same spot, shaking violently. She was alone however, as Grenard was absent. He reasoned that Grenard had perhaps gone off to take a piss and made his way to the lady. He took the blanket from his pack, thankfully it had remained dry, knelt down in front of her and wrapped it around her shoulders. He turned to set about making the fire. It took several tries, but eventually he produced a spark big enough to catch onto the kindling and finally he could see the state of Desmera properly.
Her eyes were red-rimmed and puffy with trails of tears on each cheek, cutting through dirt, ash, and blood spatters. Her hair was sticking up in the back from the cloth wrapped around her mouth. She still shivered, but Alric wondered if it was because she was cold or if it was a state of shock. He returned to his spot in front of her.
"Everything's going to be okay, Desmera. We just need Grenard to get back and then-" he stopped talking as Desmera's eyes widened in fear. A twig snapped from behind him and, without thought, he pushed her body flat on the ground, his body shielding hers just in time as he heard an arrow whistle above them.
"Stay down!" he said loudly. Without missing a beat, Alric grabbed his dagger from his waist and twisted onto his back to get a good look at the assailant. Grenard was stomping back into the clearing, bow pulled tight.
"I knew youz couldn't be trusted, ya bastard! I found Crantz' body in the bush I was takin' a leak at!" He loosed the arrow, but missed. Both men seemed shocked at his bad aim. It seemed as though the giant had indulged in the strong spirit, Alric thought, for Grenard rarely missed. The young man used the temporary stupor to his advantage and threw his dagger. It sank into the big man's left shoulder. Grenard howled in pain and grasped the hilt before pulling it out. It wasn't exactly a killer blow, but Alric had rendered him unable to shoot his bow, making it impossible for Grenard to harm him from long ranges, evening the playing field a bit. Both men sized each other up, unsure of who would strike next.
"I'm gonna kill ya, Waters! I'm gonna kill ya and then fuck yer bitch in front of yer rotting corpse and then kill her too! I swear it, I'm gonna kill ya!" Grenard charged with his sword, and Alric barely had time to block it with his own blade. The giant hit with such a force that Alric lost his footing and stumbled back. Grenard lifted his sword with both arms for a powerful swipe but missed as the brown haired lad rolled away and propelled himself back onto his feet, raising his sword once again. He struck out at the large man, only to be met with resistance as Grenard parried his attack. The two met blow for blow, until finally Alric disarmed him. Just as Alric went in for the kill, Grenard grabbed Alric's sword arm and used pure, brute strength to hold him off. Grenard punched Alric in the face with his free arm and he went flying back, a tree the only thing stopping him from toppling over. Alric tried to catch his breath but Grenard descended upon him, fists ready to beat him to a pulp. Once again, Alric tried to swing at him with his blade, but Grenard was able to knock it out of his hand. The boy scrambled to the forest floor in effort to reclaim his sword. His ankle was gripped and he was pulled back towards the giant just as the weapon was in his reach. Grenard pinned Alric underneath him and wrapped his hands around the column of his throat and squeezed. He clawed at the beast's thick hands, and then his face when he realized Grenard's grip wouldn't loosen. He started to see stars as he flailed about, looking for anything in his reach that could help him. His hands found a stick and he thrust it into the giant's eye. Immediately, Grenard fell off of him and let out a guttural roar. He took a few moments to suck in precious air, panting as he watched the brute wail in agony, the stick deeply lodged in his left eye. Alric slowly forced himself onto his feet and retrieved his fallen sword. Warily, he approached the man. Grenard blindly punched out, unable to focus on the smaller man in front of him. Desperately, he moved to tackle Waters once more but promptly froze as Alric lifted his sword and struck him in the belly.
They were quite a sight, Desmera thought as she watched from the sidelines. The giant was frozen, his twisted face inches away from Alric's smooth one. Blood poured from his mouth and eye as Alric breathlessly watched the life fade from his body.
"Rot in hell, you fucking cunt," Alric said venomously. He used his foot as leverage against Grenard's body and pulled his sword from his carcass. The one-eyed man fell onto his side, dark liquid pooling around his body. Alric sluggishly turned towards Desmera and stumbled towards her. He fell to his knees in exhaustion, his sword thrown carelessly on the ground beside him.
"Are you alright," he asked her, his voice raspy as it pained him to talk. He removed the gag and she immediately licked the corners of her mouth. They were rubbed raw and chapped. He smoothed her hair down and pulled her close to him as he wrapped his arms around her shaking figure. She squeaked in protest before she found her voice.
"Let-let me go! Don't you dare touch me!" Alric didn't care, he had almost died to save this girl, and he was going to hold her for as long as he needed.
"Shh," he said gently. "Just stop. Everything is okay now. I killed them. I killed them all for you."
"No! You didn't do it for me, you did it for yourself. So you could stop feeling guilty for killing all those innocent lives on The Horizon!" He flinched at her words. He did feel guilty. For the first time in a long time, he regretted his profession. He pulled back from her. "Get away from me," she said weakly.
He distanced himself slightly. "I'm going to release you from your binds, but you have to promise you won't run away. You don't know where we are, and it's dangerous for a woman to be by herself at night." Her steely gaze narrowed in defiance. "Please, Desmera. I beg of you."
"Do not address me so informally," she said bitingly. A pang of sorrow stabbed at his heart, but otherwise he showed no indication that her words bothered him. He grabbed his sword and cut the rope around her wrists.
She rubbed her slender wrists, rope burns evident and once again, Alric felt regret.
"Stay here, I'll fetch the water and weapons I took off the others."
"What makes you think I'll be here when you get back?"
"You won't make it very far without my help," he said matter-of-factly. She scowled in response. He left quickly, leaving Desmera with Grenard's body. She slowly got to her feet and examined his corpse with a sick sense of satisfaction.
"Rot in hell," she repeated Alric's words in a whisper. Her hand grasped the pendent her mother gave her as she spat on his corpse and thought of her house words. She had always had a fondness of wine, but Desmera was quickly developing a taste for blood as well.
Alric was back in record time, plopping the supplies in front of the small fire. He uncorked a water skin and took long, deep gulps of water to help soothe his throat. A sigh fell from his lips. Hells, this had been a long day for him.
"Here," he said to Desmera, "drink this." He tossed the other bag to her. She caught the leather and oiled bag and greedily raised the skin to her mouth, chugging the cool liquid. It was sweeter than her family's golden wine, but she wanted something stronger. As if reading her mind, Alric pulled out the other full bottle of whisky from his pack. He took a long, hard drink before offering it to her.
"I'm not drinking with you," she said sharply, though she longed for the familiar fuzziness that accompanied alcohol.
"If nothing else, it'll keep you warm," he said, not put off by her tone at all. She cursed how easily he had convinced her. She was freezing, and she didn't want to think about this evening's events. Desmera took the proffered drink, closed her eyes and chugged until the whisky burn made her cough. She blinked back the moisture that forced its way to her eyes.
The two sat in silence as they shared the bottle in front of the dying fire. She didn't know how much time had passed, but before Desmera knew it, the bottle was empty and she felt the need to relieve herself. When she told Alric as much, he just told her not to wander too far. She stumbled her way to the edge of the clearing. A silver glint caught her eye. She turned to look back at Alric to see if he was paying attention to her, but he was staring into the flames, lost in thought. She grabbed one of the daggers that lay atop the supplies Alric had dumped earlier and hid it in her sleeve. She finished her business and returned to Alric's side. He hadn't moved from his pensive position.
She tried to breathe normally, but the anticipation of what she was about to do was almost crippling. She clutched the hilt of the dagger, hidden from his view under the blanket. Before she could talk herself out of it, Desmera pounced onto to Alric, dagger pointed at his throat.
"Give me one good reason why I shouldn't end your life," she whispered in a deadly tone. Alric looked up at her with an emotion she couldn't interpret.
"Do it," he said passionately. "Kill me. Just know that doing so you will have ruined your one chance at survival." Desmera pressed the knife in deeper, drawing a trickle of blood. She wanted to, she could so easily get vengeance with one simple flick of her wrist. For Angeline. For Ser Tomas. For the entire crew of The Horizon. But she couldn't. There was something holding her back and she despaired at her weakness. She flung the dagger away and fell off of Alric.
"Why can't I do it?" she asked miserably.
"Because you aren't a monster, like me," he offered softly. She looked at him with malice.
"I want you to stay away from me, bastard."
"Don't be foolish, my lady. I've already told you, it's dangerous and I've already saved your life twice."
"Only because you were sent to end it!"
"Your life was in danger the moment your cousin decided she wanted the crown for herself. You are but one casualty in the game of thrones!"
"So it is my fault, then. How dare I anguish over my impending death when it is I who is related to an ambitious young girl! Is that what you want to hear? I shall bear all the responsibility of the lives you have stolen this night, so that you may go on with a clear conscience. After all, you are not the mastermind behind the plots, merely a paid executioner, no better than a whore!"
"You know that's not what I meant!"
"I don't know you at all. You're just a bastard, too weak to kill a defenseless lady." He tightly shut his mouth, solemnly taking the verbal assault. He knew he wouldn't be able to redeem himself, but he would spend the rest of his life trying to earn her forgiveness. He went down on his knees, bowed his head, and lifted his sword in offering.
"On this night, I swear to you, Lady Desmera Redwyne, that I shall never take another life unless you wish it. I pledge my heart, body, and sword to you from this day forward, loyal till my last breath."
Desmera wanted to tell him to take his own life, but then that small part of her that was nurtured by her opportunist grandmother made an appearance. She would always remember the lessons the Queen of Thorns had instilled in her, and Desmera took in her surroundings. She had no idea where she was, who she could trust, and had no money. As much as she wanted to spit on the traitorous scum before her, she needed him for the time being.
"I have little use for your heart, and you have little to recommend your loyalty. Your body and sword, however, might suit me still," she circled his subservient position. "Do not mistake my willingness to let you serve me for forgiveness," she said sharply. "I will never forget the discourtesies you have bestowed upon me in our short acquaintanceship, nor do I see myself forgiving you. I do not trust you, sell sword, but you may do your best to serve me."
Alric swallowed hard. The harsh words were nothing short of what he deserved, but he'd be lying if he said he didn't hope that saving her would win him back some of her favor.
"I understand and accept your terms, my lady. I am yours to command."
She scoffed bitterly. "And so it is. Tell me, sell sword, was there more to this plan of yours to rescue me?"
"Yes, my lady."
