Harrow's Wife Ch. 02

Harrow set the crossbow on the ground and set about binding the wrists and ankles of the two Guardsmen who still lived -- the two who'd approached him first. After that he collected and secured the six riderless horses and recovered his throwing knives.

Gwen remained rooted in place, still gripping the iron poker as though her life depended on it. What had just happened?

"Who...are you?" she said.

He didn't reply immediately and rummaged through the saddlebags on each of the horses.

"I suggest you get moving. The one who escaped will bring others. It's not safe here anymore...for either of us. Take whatever you need from the house, and one of the horses. I wish you luck in your travels." Harrow didn't meet her eyes as he spoke, and his tone showed no particular emotion.

The teasing, jovial Harrow she'd come to know was gone. Or maybe he'd never existed in the first place. She realized then how much she missed that side of him.

As he worked, she set the iron poker down and turned her thoughts to her own situation. The Hound was dead. Her daughter was safe, at least for now. Doubtless the Guardsmen would still be searching for Ana and for Gwen, and perhaps the death of The Hound would intensify those efforts. The pride and infallibility of The Order was at stake, after all.

She still had no idea where Ana might be, and with The Guardsmen on high alert it would be almost impossible for Gwen to travel freely. The brand under her right eye would identify her as a witch anywhere she went, so she'd have to stay away from the villages and cities. It was autumn -- winter was on the way. She had no money, no proper clothing, no access to her magic and no wilderness survival skills. The prospects of making it on her own were bleak.

He finished his search of the saddlebags. "Not much here. Makes sense they wouldn't carry the bounty with them, I guess. I found a few dozen Silvers. Take it with you -- I can get by without it."

"Oh...thank you. That's...more than generous, considering..."

"This is magical," Harrow said, nudging The Hound's silver sword with the toe of his boot. "It's yours if you want it."

"I think you'd get more use out of it."

He shook his head. "Magic isn't good for a fighter. Makes you soft. Weakens you, in the long run."

With that he walked past her into the house, leaving her alone amid the carnage.

She walked over to the sword, which lay next to The Hound's corpse. The blade was nearly four feet long; even if magic made it lighter than a normal sword there'd be no way Gwen could wield it effectively. Regardless, it might make a better last-resort weapon than the iron poker. To test the theory, she reached out and wrapped both hands around the hilt.

Suddenly she felt a strong urgency welling up inside her. A tugging in her mind. The sword was alive...and communicating?

She fought her impulse to drop the sword in alarm, and instead focused on the sensation, trying to understand what the weapon was trying to 'tell' her. A lifetime of sorcery had given her an intuitive feel for magic -- hopefully it would come in handy here.

The moments passed. The sword was conveying a sense of direction and distance, not in words; more like a gut feeling, a subtle certainty that what she sought lay in the woods a short distance from Harrow's house -- perhaps ten minutes away on foot.

Close to the place she'd invoked the weather vortex.

And then she laughed as a mixture of hope and glee welled up inside her. The Hound had been a fraud. His martial prowess had been bestowed by his magical sword, along with his much-revered, super-human ability to sniff out magic. That power now belonged to Gwen, and she'd be able to use it to locate Ana!

But her elation was short-lived. The sword solved one problem but not the others. She still couldn't travel freely, survive in the wild or be seen by anyone. On her own, she'd surely be caught by the Guardsmen if she didn't starve or die of exposure first.

She sighed, sheathed the sword and took it back to the house with her, hoping to wring more kindness out of the man she'd so horribly betrayed. She had no idea how to even begin to ask for his forgiveness or his help, but for her daughter's sake, she'd do whatever was necessary, pride be damned.

She found him in the bedroom. He'd pushed the bed aside and was kneeling over a bundle wrapped in wool blankets. A tough, leather travel back sat on the floor, leaning up against a wall, already half-full of clothing.

"Harrow, I-"

"No," he said, not looking up as he unwrapped the bundle. His bluntness left little room for argument.

She sighed. "I know you're angry with me, and you have every reason."

"I'm angry with myself. I knew taking you in was a stupid risk. My own fault for not trusting my judgment."

"You were very kind and I'm so grateful. But I had to protect Ana. She's my baby, Harrow."

"I hope you find her." His flat tone suggested he didn't care much one way or the other.

"The sword -- it's magical. It can locate magic. It was the secret to The Hound's power."

He paused for a moment, then shook his head and gave a mirthless chuckle. "He was a charlatan all along, then."

"It looks that way. But with the sword, I can locate Ana."

"Safe travels, then." He continued his work.

"I need help. I can't do it alone."

"Seems unlikely, I agree."

He finished unwrapping the bundle. It contained weaponry. More handle-less throwing knives. A couple of long, pointy daggers. And a heavy longsword, finely made and well cared-for...with the nub of the pommel bearing the likeness of a stallion's head.

Gwen's eyes went wide. It was the same weapon the little girl in her nightmare had used to impale Harrow through the chest. It hadn't been a dream after all, but rather a vision. And all visions had meaning. A little girl, killing Harrow with his own weapon -- what could that signify? An act of vengeance, perhaps? Retribution for some past wrong?

"Please help me."

"You can have the magic sword, a horse and the Silver from the Guardsmen. That's all I have to offer you," he said.

"I'll do anything...whatever you ask, in return for your help. Just name it."

"No thank you. You've cost me too much as it is."

"I have magic, through the Bond. I can be very useful to you."

'I've had enough of your magic," he snapped, and she could hear the anger in his voice, seeping through his controlled demeanor. "I don't know why I agreed to help you in the first place. A fool's errand from the start." He slid a short dagger into his boot, then covered it with the bottom of his pant leg.

"Was it because of the little girl? The one with white hair?"

"What?" he whispered. He looked up at her, eyes narrowed in outrage.

The look turned her cold, but Gwen was too deep in it to backtrack now. The only way out was through.

"The child -- the one who visits you at night."

"You're intruding on my thoughts now?" He shook his head in disgust. "I should have left you where I found you."

"Who is she, Harrow? Why is she thirsty for your blood?"

"None of your concern," he said.

"You wronged her in life and now she seeks justice. Is that it? Perhaps you've a debt to repay?"

"Be silent! You know nothing," he growled, his voice low and dangerous. He was angry. She'd poked him someplace sensitive, exposed a vulnerability.

She took a breath, softened her tone.

"Ana needs help, Harrow. She's barely more than a girl. She'll suffer and die a horrible death and you're the only one that can save her." Gwen dropped to her knees beside the mercenary so she could look him in the face. "Perhaps an act of mercy will soothe your conscience? A good deed to offset whatever harm you've inflicted in the past?"

He hesitated, and Gwen knew she'd hit close to the mark.

"My last 'good deed' cost me my home and livelihood. Why should I trust you again?"

"I don't deserve your trust; I only beg for your pity. Please, Harrow. For Ana, Please."

He was quiet a long time, staring down at his sword, his thoughts far away. Gwen was silent too, wary of saying the wrong thing if he was on the verge of agreeing to help.

"Gather all you can carry," he said at last, his tone weary and resigned. "The sooner we leave, the safer we'll be."

Gwen stood and hurried to the cupboard, trying to decide which of Harrow's clothes might be most suitable for travel. Stay safe, Ana, she thought. Help is on the way!

*****