The Pendant Read online

  It was a cool, cloudless night. The moon was full and Nosmas stared up at it as he rode. Ria pulled her horse alongside his. “Bring back memories?” she asked.

  He nodded. “When something controls your life, you learn to respect it. I do not think I will ever look upon the moon in the same way again.”

  Their conversation was interrupted by a shout from in front of them. Modo had taken the lead and was calling for Nosmas and Tor to join him. Nosmas galloped forwards, stopping as he rounded a bend in the road they were following. Modo had dismounted and was talking quietly to a man who was slumped at the road’s edge, moaning quietly.

  Modo looked up as he heard Tor and Nosmas approaching. “He is in a great deal of pain,” he informed them. “Is there anything you can give him?”

  “I should be able to put together a potion that will help,” Nosmas said before instructing his horse to turn around and head back to the wagon, where all of his supplies were stored.

  “We will give you something to ease your discomfort,” Tor said to the injured man soothingly. “Can you tell me what happened to you?” The man showed no reaction that he had heard Tor speak.

  Modo looked at the stranger closely and noticed that his hands and feet had been bandaged. “It looks like someone has already tried to help him,” he observed.

  Nosmas soon returned, a cup of brown liquid in his hands and Patrick by his side. The rest of the group had decided to remain out of sight so as not to frighten the patient. As the two men approached, Tor took hold of one of the man’s bandaged hands and slowly began to unwrap it. The bandage was relatively clean so could not have been on for long.

  “Why are you out here all alone?” Modo asked as Tor worked, but again the man did not acknowledge that he was being spoken to.

  “For all that is holy,” Tor suddenly exclaimed, looking down at the man’s bare hand.

  “Frack,” Modo swore when he saw what Tor was looking at. “What happened to him?”

  Tor shook his head. “I have no idea.” The hand he was holding was badly damaged. Small cuts covered the entire palm, each red and inflamed. Long splinters of wood protruded from each, embedded deep in the flesh.

  “Why did whoever bandaged his hand not remove the splinters first?” Modo asked in bewilderment.

  “Because the bandages are there to hold them in,” Patrick announced. “Take a look at his feet. You will see that they are exactly the same.”

  Tor did as instructed, the man doing nothing to either help or hinder him. Tor was horrified to see that Patrick had been right. The soles of the man’s feet were swollen, yellow pus oozing out of the wounds.

  “You have seen this before,” Tor said to Patrick. It was not a question.

  Patrick nodded. “It was a long time ago. I hoped I would never see it again.”

  Nosmas held out his cup to the man. “Drink this,” he instructed. “It will dull the pain for a while until we can get the wood removed and your appendages redressed.”

  “I would not do that if I were you,” a voice said from behind them.

  “Why ever not?" Nosmas demanded as Hawk landed beside him.

  “He is right,” Patrick said before the vampire could respond. “Tie the bandages back in place and leave him alone. We need to get out of here.” Tor was about to protest, but Patrick stopped him. “I will explain later.”

  “I strongly suggest you do as he says,” Hawk said. “We are in a great deal of danger right now.”

  Tor hated to abandon someone who obviously needed his help, but despite protests from Nosmas and Modo, he rewound the bandages on the exposed hand and foot, then ordered everyone to remount.

  The rest were full of questions, but nobody would discuss what had happened until Patrick or Hawk had provided an explanation, which they refused to do until they had put a lot of distance between themselves and the abuse victim.

  It was still a few hours before dawn when Patrick finally called a halt. “I suggest we make camp,” he said. “Hopefully we are far enough away.”

  “Far enough away from what?” Ria asked.

  “I will explain while we eat.”

  The camp was soon set up and Seth began to lay a fire. They were close to a stream and Sam told the horses to drink their fill. Hawk disappeared into the nearby woods in search of wildlife while others looked for some edible plants and more wood for the fire.

  Hawk soon returned with something resembling a large badger, completely drained of blood, which Seth skinned and set to roast over the fire. Once the food was ready and everyone was settled down to eat, Tor told everyone about the plight of the man they had found. There were a lot of angry comments. Both Patrick and Hawk insisted that they had no choice and as soon as the protests died down they began their explanation.

  “Has anyone ever heard of the Shandar?” Patrick asked his avid listeners. Everyone shook their heads, except for Hawk. Between them, Patrick and Hawk told all they knew.

  The Shandar were an ancient secret society. It was believed that chapters could be found in every country, though this could not be corroborated as nobody outside the organisation knew who were members. Many rumours circulated about well known figures, including members of some royal families, but nothing was ever proven. Nobody knew for sure what the society did, but it was often accused of providing its own version of justice and dishing out punishments as its members saw fit. Through the centuries, numerous deaths were blamed on the Shandar. Patrick had read some ancient documents that described a form of punishment called Hamsung. Slivers of wood would be embedded in the palms and soles of the feet, which were then wrapped with cloth to keep them in place. The tongue was cut out so the victim could not ask for help. Then, in the dead of night, they were forced to walk out of their town or village with no food or water.

  Sam shuddered. The pain of being forced to walk on lacerated feet on its own must have been excruciating, let alone with splinters forcing themselves deeper with each step.

  “Why did you prevent us from helping the man?” Brodin asked.

  “I remember reading a document that mentioned this form of punishment,” Patrick replied. “It stated that anyone found assisting someone who has suffered the Hamsung would be dealt with.”

  Ria gulped. “What exactly do you mean by ‘dealt with’?” she asked.

  Hawk smiled at her, revealing his fangs. She paled slightly as he sliced his finger across his throat. Nobody spoke. They had all been very unhappy when they had heard that they had abandoned someone who desperately needed their help, but now they were grateful to both Hawk and Patrick for insisting that they do so.

  Finally Oak found his voice. “Do you have any idea what crimes could possibly justify this kind of torture?”

  Patrick shook his head. “None at all. The documents I read described only the punishments, not the reasons for inflicting them on someone. Hawk?”

  The vampire also shook his head, indicating he either had no more information or was not prepared to talk about it. He looked around him. The sky was beginning to lighten, indicating dawn was not far off. “I had better go,” he said.

  Tor nodded. ‘See you tonight,” he said. Once Hawk was secure in his coffin, Tor looked at his companions. “Does anyone object to sleeping here?” Nobody did, so they organised a guard rota. Sam and Dean volunteered to take first watch; Sam could not face going back to sleep and wanted to postpone it for as long as possible. Their two hour shift passed uneventfully and when Nosmas and Quartilla took over, Sam and Dean lay down together and tried to get comfortable on the hard ground. Sleep quickly took Dean, as his soft snoring demonstrated, but it evaded Sam for a long while.

  She had just drifted off when she was startled awake by the sound of a twig snapping. She sat up and looked around. The camp was peaceful. Everyone was sleeping soundly. She looked for Nosmas and Quartilla, but they were nowhere to be seen. Hearing movement behind her, she stared into the trees, but it was too dark to make anything out.

  “Nosmas, Q
uartilla, is that you?” she called out quietly. There was no answer. Concerned, she stood up and walked towards the trees, listening carefully for any sound. A figure appeared and she instinctively drew back behind a large tree. As the figure approached, his build and gait appeared familiar. The moon came out from behind a cloud, casting light onto the person, revealing his face.

  “Brin,” she called out in delight, running towards him and throwing herself into his outstretched arms. “What are you doing here?”

  He held her close. In his arms all of her fears and concerns disappeared. Too soon he released her and gently moved her backwards. “I am here for you,” he whispered softly, looking down towards her stomach. She followed his gaze and almost cried out in surprise. Her belly was extremely swollen. She looked like she was ready to give birth. She felt movement inside her and moved her arm around her extended abdomen protectively.

  She smiled to herself. It was only a dream. The memories of her previous nightmares suddenly flooded back into her and she looked around her, frightened. This was not going to be an ordinary dream. Her eyes sought out Brin’s, needing his reassurance that everything was okay. They were dark, almost black, yet were always filled with warmth whenever she looked at them. She could happily spend hours just staring at him. She forced herself to pull back her gaze, taking in his whole face. He was still stunning. The green hue of his skin seemed to make him even more appealing. A slight smile touched his lips, making her heart rate quicken with desire.

  “I am also here for our child,” he informed her. Every elf she had met had a strange way of speaking, putting odd pauses in the middle of sentences, but this did not irritate her. On Brin it was endearing.

  “What do you mean?” she asked in surprise. They had been forced to part when Brin had become heir to the throne. The elven race would never accept her as Queen and she would not allow him to choose her over his people, so leaving him behind was her only option. Now he had come looking for her. Had he forsaken the throne so he could be with her?

  “The child you carry is of royal blood and must be brought up in the right way. I am here to take it back to my people.”

  Tears of joy flowed down Sam’s cheeks. She could not stop smiling. She had completely forgotten that she was only dreaming. She had not known that she was pregnant when she and Brin had parted, but it never occurred to her to question how he had found out.

  Then his smile turned into a sneer and the warmth fled from his eyes. “I think you have misunderstood. Only the child will be coming with me.” Before she had time to take in what he had said, in one fluid movement he drew an arrow from the quiver on his back and slashed her across the stomach, cutting her deeply. She cried out, her hands instinctively covering her wound. Blood flowed freely between her fingers and she collapsed on the ground. Brin pounced on her, drawing a long knife from his belt as he moved. She was powerless to prevent him sliding it inside her wound, cutting her deeper. As soon as the incision was large enough, he placed the hilt of the knife between his teeth and gently pulled a perfectly formed baby from inside her. Cradling it in one arm, he used his free hand to take hold of the knife and cut the umbilical cord.

  Sam was too shocked and in too much pain to scream. All she could do was lay still and watch as Brin removed his cloak and wrapped the baby in it. He did not look at her. When his task was complete, he turned his back on her and walked away. Blood was flowing rapidly, taking her life with it, but there was nothing she could do to prevent it. She closed her eyes and prayed for death.

  She was awoken by Dean roughly shaking her. He was urgently whispering something in her ear, but she did not listen. She sat up, her hands seeking out the slight bump her baby was creating. It was still there. Only once she had assured herself that her child was safe did she listen to what Dean was saying, though she had no idea what had made her so concerned, having no memory of the dream.

  Nosmas had heard the sounds of many men approaching through the trees and had quietly woken everyone. They were arming themselves, ready to fight if the need arose. Listening carefully, Sam could make out the sounds of movement somewhere behind her. Whoever was approaching was doing nothing to hide the fact. This made an attack unlikely, but they were taking no chances.

  Everyone was standing in a defensive circle around the wagon. Sam ran to them, jumping into the back and grabbing her bow and arrows. Moments later, a tall man emerged through the trees. He was dressed head to toe in black; even his face was covered by a black cloth. He was holding a large sword and raised it menacingly when he saw the defenders.

  “Put down your weapons,” he called out. “You are surrounded and outnumbered.” As he spoke, other identically clad figures emerged from the tress and the road beside which the group had been camping was suddenly blocked by people who had not been there a moment before. The speaker had not been exaggerating.

  “What do you want?” Brodin shouted. “We are just peaceful travellers. We have done you no harm.”

  “On the contrary,” a feminine voice sounded from beside the man. “You aided a man who had been condemned to endure the Hamsung. Therefore your life is forfeit.”

  “Frack,” Modo swore under his breath as Patrick called out in protest.

  “But we did not help him. I stopped the others before any aid was given.”

  The man who had first spoken responded. “You were observed unwrapping his bandages and making a pain killing brew.”

  “I put the bandages back in place and the cup was never handed over.” Tor kept his voice as calm and even as possible. If it came to a fight, there was no way they would be able to win.

  “That makes no difference,” the woman spat out. “You intended to help him and therefore are guilty. Even with your wizard, you will not be able to leave this place alive.” She nodded towards Nosmas as she spoke.

  “Wait a moment,” the man called out, holding out his arm to prevent her from moving forward. “One of them is missing. Where is he hiding?”

  Sam looked at Tor in alarm. Would he reveal that Hawk was in the coffin? The sun was shining brightly above them. If these people doubted his word and checked inside the coffin, the sun would fall on Hawk, killing him.

  For a moment, Tor did not answer. He was debating the pros and cons of telling the truth before deciding that complete honesty was the best approach. “Hawk is a vampire. He is in the coffin.”

  The reaction took Tor by surprise. He had been expecting disbelief, but the shocked exclamations that emitted from all around were completely baffling. “Hawk is still alive?” the woman who had previously spoken exclaimed. Tor nodded his head.

  “In that case,” the man who asked about the missing team member announced, “we will all wait here until sundown. It has been a long while since Hawk and I have spoken. I am looking forward to doing so again.” Through the black cloth covering the man’s face, it was impossible to tell if Hawk would find the meeting quite as pleasant.

  Chapter 5

  Tor ordered everyone to lower their weapons. Reluctantly they obeyed. At a signal from the man who had done most of the talking, the majority of those dressed in black disappeared from view, concealing themselves once more in the surrounding landscape, until only the man and the woman remained.

  Brodin looked up into the sky. Nightfall was still a few hours away. He was frustrated by the delay, but did not let his feelings show. “We might as well eat something,” he announced. He was not hungry, but experience had taught him to grab food whenever he could as he may not get another chance for a long time.

  Oak started to head towards the trees. Their supplies were running low and he would need to forage for something edible. The man called out before he had taken more than a few steps. “Where do you think you are going?”

  “To look for food,” Oak informed him.

  “My people can take care of that. None of you are to go anywhere.” He whistled twice and half a dozen of the black clad strangers appeared. They were given their orders and depar
ted, returning a short time later with baskets filled with loaves of bread, fresh vegetables and fruit and a whole leg of ham.

  “We also need firewood,” Seth said, just before two of those sent off appeared, their arms filled with sticks and small logs. After a quick debate, the decision was made to eat the food cold. Oak preferred his vegetables raw anyway.

  “Will you join us?” Nosmas enquired. Those who delivered the food shook their heads and removed themselves from sight once more, but the woman looked towards the man, awaiting his response.

  “Why not,” he said and sat on the ground next to the fire, the woman positioning herself beside him. They both sat erect, hands close to their weapons.

  Cirren decided that, as they were forced to spend time with these people, he may as well try to get to know them. “So what do we call you?” he asked.

  “You do not need to know our names,” the woman said in an even tone. Cirren was desperate to know how old she was, but her face covering hid everything. She sounded young, but voices could be deceiving.

  “I have to call you something,” he protested. “I am Cirren. Prince Cirren of Remeny to be precise.” She did not seem impressed. “These are my brothers, Tor and Brodin.” The two men nodded when he pointed to them.

  The man began to shift uncomfortably. “I did not realise Hawk had fallen in with such noble company,” he said. “I sincerely wish I did not have to kill you.” Ignoring the comment, Cirren introduced the rest of his companions, none of whom looked comfortable sharing a meal with their captors. He handed a slice of bread topped with ham to the woman, hoping she would remove her veil to eat. She did not oblige him, managing to move the food under the cloth without raising it high enough to reveal any of her features.

  The man saw the disappointed look on Cirren’s face and chuckled. “You may call us Falcon and Eaglet,” he said, taking pity on the young Prince. “These are not, obviously, our real names.”