Ghost of Whisper Creek

Megwan was ridden into the ‘Ghost’ camp on the back of one of the horses Maison Thorne’s men had liberated from them. The horses were led by a soldier as were Krita and Horeak bound at the wrists. Maison gave orders to his soldiers as to where Horeak was to be held and Megwan was to be treated. True to his word he referred to Megwan as him with every direction. Something that made the young woman grind her teeth in disgust and at least once she struck out at the soldier nearest to her. The act received only laughter in response and she settled for soft muttered curses instead.

With Horeak and Megwan’s immediate fates decided Maison made his way back to where two guards held onto Krita. “How are we going to declaw the wolf bitch?” came a familiar voice. So familiar in fact that Krita didn’t think it was real.

“How do you manage to stay here with all these whispers playing tricks on your mind?” she asked Maison.

Before the former Arandil commander could answer there was laughter from behind Krita. “No whispers my Lady. You are hearing correctly. Maison said the Lord Knight followed the King’s Law he said nothing about his other brother. Did you really think that I would follow you when I heard the whispers of who the Ghost really was.”

“Trakas!?” Krita growled. A stomp of one guard’s foot and an elbow to the temple of the other had Krita lunging towards her lieutenant. Before she could do anything a strong hand reached out and grabbed the chain that connected her wrists. A yelp escaped her mouth as she was instantly stopped in her charge, much like a dog who reaches the end of his leash while charging.

“I knew eventually you would find this place. Try to ruin our plans,” Trakas gave a sinister smile. “So when you gave me leave to enjoy my home I rushed to warn my brother. He did not think that you would charge off on your own. I told him the sight of your dead comrades would have that Northern temper of yours boiling and you would rush off after him. Why do you think we waited until after you visited the old man?”

Krita gave another growl and struggled against Maison Thorne’s tight grip. Finally realizing it was pointless she stopped pulling, “So what is your plan now? Marry me, kill my father and change Kronnborg’s name back to North Port?”

“Marry you?” Trakas questioned and then spit off to the side. “I’m sure my brother told you where my interest lies in this area. Besides all the lieutenants agreed to let Leomorn have the first crack at you. Don’t tell me you didn’t see the way he looks at you?”

Krita shook her head at Trakas’ good humor, “Of course I’ve seen it you oaf, and I discourage it the best I can. His heart truly lies elsewhere as yours does. If you really talked to him you would know his true feelings.” She turned her eyes from her former lieutenant and looked into the face of his brother, “If not use me as leverage to ‘right a wrong,’ then what is your purpose?”

Maison shook his head, “My brother plays with you. He thinks he is funny. I have not decided how this should be done. From what I have heard and seen of your father I don’t think that he will pay a ransom in the form of land for Arandil subjects to settle. I am married, whether my wife will see me or not, and as you can tell my brother is not exactly keen on the idea of taking you for a wife. That means finding another husband we can control, or merely dealing with you after we remove your father.”

“My brother inherits Kronnborg should Lord Ammon fall,” Krita stated angrily.

“A much more reasonable man than your father. Him I might be able to get a ransom out of. thanks for the suggestion. Still having my own man as Lord of the city sounds much easier,” Maison gave a thoughtful look. “I shall have to sleep on it.”

Trakas laughed as he produced a bag familiar to Krita. “I managed to wander off with the armor she would tease about sparring sessions in. Have her put this on and I’m sure you will find no shortage of suitors.”

Even Maison grumbled at the suggestion at first. Then it seemed to strike a chord with him, “I would much prefer her dressed as a Lady, but ornamental armor is better than the rags she wears now. Hopefully a nice gleaming set will remind the men of what we hold. Have them brought to my tent.”

“To your tent? You are keeping the Lady in your tent?” Trakas questioned almost angrily.

“You take issue with that brother?” Maison asked forcefully. “You are not one of my men. You’re one of hers in fact. If you wish to question my orders I can see your blade traded for chains. I doubt anyone here will question me for doing so. I trust that you spoke the truth when you said you believed in family, but here you can’t be my brother. You are a soldier follow or leave.”

Trakas lowered his head to his brother, as he had done countless times to Krita. “Aye Commander,” he muttered and made his way to a small tent not any different from the rest that littered the area. Several minutes later Trakas was seen exiting the tent no longer carrying the bag.

“I will take refuge in one of the patrol houses. No one will bother you in my tent,” Maison stated. It had the same tone as the orders he gave leaving little room for question if Krita even thought she had space for demands. “You will dress in this pretty armor that Trakas has brought. Lock yourself in my tent beyond that. I care not, but you will look the part of the Lady that you are.”

Krita snorted, “I’m no Lady, I’m a hunter, a warrior, a wolf.”

Maison gave a nod of his head, “Very well you will look the part of the Lady your sister is. And since you are the wolf you claim to be I will be placing guard about my tent. They will keep you safe from the others as well as yourself. Two of them will accompany to do whatever it is you wish to do, other than that the Creek you can treat as if it was your own camp.”

Maison started to turn as he waved five soldiers forward. There was a clearing of Krita’s throat and he turned back to her. “Outfitting myself in armor will be quite difficult in chains.”

Maison grumbled and stepped forward pulling a key from his belt. He unlocked the chains when his men had completely surrounded her. He handed chains and key to one of her guards. “The other difference between your camp and mine,” Maison said to Krita devoid of any emotion before turning back to the soldier. “She has one hour to change then the chains go back on. If she isn’t dressed you will make sure she is quickly. And nothing more than that.” The soldier nodded his understanding and the five led Krita to the tent.