Hal - The Duellist #1

Chapter Seventeen - Punishment

"Move." She was pushed to her left. They were forcing her into a backstreet. She reached for her sword once again, this time with her left hand, but the dandy grabbed her arm, deftly pulling the weapon from her belt and flinging it away. Helpless now, she struggled as they forced her further down a winding little passage which ran between high-roofed shops and houses, the light pushed out, darkness encroaching. The place seemed deserted. If only she had taken the main street. She yelled out in fear, but the scream was stifled by a dirty, garlic-scented hand pressed over her lips.

Then they stopped. She kicked out with her legs and was met with a blow to her stomach, causing her to double over in agony. They pulled her to her feet. In the half-light she could make out two more figures up ahead. The first ‒ stocky and well-built ‒ stood, impassive, arms folded. The other was shorter, wirier, with a long beard and wild gingerish hair. Her heart sank. Four men, no weapon. She was finished.

"Got a message for you." The wiry man brought his face close to her own. His breath was hot and foul.

"Really? From who?"

"You'll understand who the message is from once you've received it."

She reeled from the first blow as he struck her across the cheek. And as the fists flew down into her face, her back, her stomach and chest, the light faded and her last thoughts were of Meracad.

***

Meracad gnawed on her nails, pushing away another nauseous wave of fear. Her father had returned several days earlier than she had expected. Not only that, but he had requested her presence at dinner: a rare occurrence. They only ate together if Léac was receiving guests and needed her to play the role of hostess. It could mean but one thing: he wished to tell her about his dealings in the North, and the marriage contract which would have sealed them. She must get a message to Hal ─ to warn her to stay away for a few days. And for the time being, it would be best to humour her father, to make him believe that she was delighted at the news. Her only hope now was that Hal would not lose her nerve. Everything had seemed so much easier with Léac out of the city.

Trembling, she made her way downstairs to the dining room. In spite of the summer twilight, he had drawn the curtains. The room was dark, the air close. Léac sat in his shirtsleeves at the far end of the table, drinking wine and staring morosely into his glass.

"Daughter," he acknowledged her as she entered. "Sit!"

She noted with unease that no place had been prepared for her, and took a chair at the opposite end, as far from him as she could.

"And how was your trip to Dal Reniac, father?"

Léac snorted. "We might better ask how you spent your time in Colvé, daughter."

She understood his meaning instantly but knew better than to show her fear, lowering her shaking hands beneath the table. If she were to save herself and Hal from harm, time meant everything, she realised.

"What do you mean, Sir?" The words came out strained, forced. She bit her lip and clasped her hands together, digging her nails into the soft skin so hard it hurt.

"You know very well what I mean." His voice was a low growl. "Let us not play games, Meracad. I have no patience for them, as you well know. You have been seen in the company of that freakish boy-girl. And you, it seems, made no attempt to consider what that might do to your reputation. Or above all, to mine, while I was out of this city, negotiating the most important deal of my life, and the security of your future happiness ─ your marriage."

His temper rising, Léac hurled his glass at the wall before pulling himself to his feet. Horrified now, she began to panic.

"I would like to know who has fed you these stories, father." She caught the edge of hysteria in her own voice. "Surely someone who hates us both ─ who wants to ruin me."