Free The Wounded Guardian by Duncan Lay Page B

of a dark figure joining him.
    ‘Need a piss, too?’ he asked in a friendly way, but the figure just stepped in close and plunged a knife into his chest.
    ‘King Markuz hopes you rot for an eternity, Captain Snithe,’ Cezar hissed as Snithe choked and died. Swiftly he cut the man’s heart out as a trophy for Markuz, then dropped him into the cesspit. He knew there would be no shortage of suspects. It would take the local militia days to sort it out. Long enough for him to finish the job.
    It seemed as if Martil had just closed his eyes when he felt someone shaking him. He had been having a dream about that last war council before Bellic. But in this one, the other captains were all covered in blood. Behind them sat the dead children of Bellic. His eyes snapped open to see Karia’s face a few inches from his own.
    ‘What!’ Martil gasped. He had not slept through someone approaching him for many years and the combination of that and his dream left his heart pounding.
    ‘Father Nott is still tired but he said you would get me some breakfast,’ she announced. She looked far better this morning, although no doubt the bath had a great deal to do with that. Her hair was even mostly brushed.
    Martil looked out of the window to see it was just dawn. He rubbed his eyes and swallowed, his mouth feeling as though something foul had slept in it. He needed a drink of water, and then he needed something hot inside him.
    ‘What do you want to eat?’
    ‘What is there?’
    Martil went to investigate and found FatherNott’s pantry rather bare. He suspected he and Karia had eaten most of the food last night. The milk smelt off and the remaining bread was hard. He sawed thick hunks off the loaf, which he held close to the coals of the stove fire. Karia demanded a turn, and then polished off four slices of toasted bread, two with honey on, two with cheese on.
    ‘Thirsty now.’
    So Martil had to leave his own toasted bread and hunt around until he found a stone jug half-full of apple juice. He poured out two goblets and was just sitting down again when she finished hers.
    ‘Can I make some for Father Nott now?’
    With a sigh, Martil helped her prepare toast and juice for Father Nott. He was wondering if he would ever get a chance to eat himself. So he was heartily thankful when Father Nott’s door opened and the old priest stepped out, wrapping a woollen robe around himself. Karia also seemed thankful, as she ran over to hug him. Once he had made it to the kitchen table, Father Nott allowed Karia to scramble onto his lap.
    ‘What are we doing today?’ she asked.
    Father Nott put down his slice of toast. ‘We are doing nothing. I have some people coming to visit me, and I have to pack. You will be leaving with Martil here.’
    ‘I’m taking you to your uncle Danir,’ Martil added hastily.
    It took a moment for this to all sink in, then her face twisted in horror and she stared up at Father Nott. ‘You mean I can’t stay here?’
    ‘No, my dear. I can’t stay here, either. I am leaving to go back to my Chapter House, and another priest is coming to live here.’
    ‘But I want to stay with you! Why can’t I stay with you?’ she screamed and then burst into tears.
    Nott tried, and failed, to soothe her.
    ‘I’m not going. You can’t make me!’
    Martil felt he had had enough. ‘You can’t speak to the Father like that!’ he snapped.
    ‘Who asked you? You can’t make me do anything!’ she shrieked at him.
    ‘Martil! Please!’ Father Nott tried to step in but as far as Martil was concerned, this was a battle of wills that had to be won if he was to take her to her uncle’s home.
    ‘You will do what I say,’ he told her.
    ‘Why? You’re not my father! You killed my father!’ She grabbed an empty goblet and hurled it at Martil, who had to duck to avoid it.
    ‘Karia!’ Father Nott admonished but Martil’s anger burst into flame and he surged to his feet.
    ‘Why you…!’
    ‘No!’ Karia saw the look in