Bryn considered her carefully.
“When the Baron heard my story, we packed up and brought my wife and children back to the mountains,” he said. “They’re safe and sound inside the Dragon Keep.” He smiled just thinking of them.
“Safe?” Her voice held a note of disbelief. “In the midst of--”
“Criminals?” He finished for her. “Aye, even if I’m not there. The Baron’s laws are not crossed except by the foolish.”
“You don’t worry about your wife?”
“No man touches a woman without the Baron’s permission. There’s more than a few of us that will see that law enforced.” Bryn nodded. “Not all of us are lawless men without morals.”
A faint blush tinged her cheeks. “I didn’t mean you were.”
“I know.” He smiled. “Take care of them and yourself. The Baron promised your husband he’d see you again.”
Tears lent a sudden brightness to her eyes and one or two escaped. She must have been holding them in since the previous day.
She swiped them away and drew a steadying breath. “You’ll see Sean when you get to the Carraig?”
“I will.”
“Tell him that we miss him, and to come home to us.” She sniffed and another tear ran down her cheek. “And tell that idiot that I love him and to look out and see us. And, Bryn, I know that if you are going for the Baron that Sean will want to go with you. He and—the Baron, they were always so close. I swear sometimes they could reach each other’s mind.”
She pressed a hand to her eyes as another tear ran down her face. Bryn rested a quick hand against her arm. He’d seen the bond between the Baron and Sean, even in the brief amount of time they’d spent together.
Sarah drew a shuddering breath, regaining control of her renegade tears. “Tell Sean to be careful. And that as much as I want to see them both standing here together again, Sean is the one we need back.”
Bryn nodded. “You have my word.”
She wiped her eyes and called to the children. “Thank you.”
Bryn helped her mount and handed the girl up into her arms before swinging the boy up behind one of the warriors. They gave him a wave as the horses trotted off. He watched them disappear into the green hills before turning back to the Talam’s house to await Brogan.
Chapter 26
Sean waded through the thick mist, waiting for it to clear. He’d wandered through the silky grey tendrils for what seemed hours, looking for something, or someone, he didn’t quite know. Waiting for whatever visions were chosen for him to see when the mist parted.
Childish laughter floated through the veil and he recognized it—he and Rhys.
That’s who I’m looking for.
The mist thickened as if to tell him that he would be as unsuccessful as before. He slid his hand through a pulsating cloud, pushing it away to clear a path. The mist obeyed, parting and reforming behind him. This time he would not take no for an answer.
“Rhys,” he whispered.
Voices darted around him, shapes plunging through the mist—figures running wild through fertile farmlands. Two children, red-haired and black. He smiled at the sight and hazy memory but walked on. He didn’t want to see the past. He wanted the present.
“Rhys!” He envisioned the face of his brother as he had last seen it, so different from the face of years before. This time new voices joined the whispered cacophony.
“Jes, if I don’t make it, tell Sean not to look back,” one rasped.
Rhys.
“I’ve always tried to look back and see what happened then. But I can’t.”
“I’m glad. I don’t want you to see that.”
Sean closed his eyes. “Rhys, let me see you.”
“Don’t look, Sean. Don’t look for me.” A voice that lacked the rasp whispered back, full of pain, loneliness, and despair. It was Rhys from years ago, during the terrible events that had made him what he was.
“Brother, please.”
A dark figure appeared through the mist, back turned to Sean.
“No, Sean. Don’t look for me.” It strode away, fingers of mist lacing behind it.
“Rhys, wait!” Sean ran after him.
He stumbled and his vision cleared. He soared above Castle Bright again. Soldiers formed long lines and Lord Adam paced in his chambers. Darkness gathered in the center of the castle where the druids gathered in their stone room.
Sean circled the high turrets, straining to see more. A deep roar echoed, and he saw the dragon once more, this time assailed on all sides by hideous figures, its scales rent and bleeding. It looked up at him with desperate brown eyes.
“Rhys?” Sean pushed back his blanket and sat up.
The dark sky outside the slit window announced that dawn was still a few hours away. He rubbed the back of his neck, wishing for Sarah. She usually woke when he did, and he would often tell her what he had seen.
He wished he could have gone with Bryn, just to see them again, but he wouldn’t have been able to stay. Laird Brogan would have commanded him to return to the Carraig. The Clans were going to war and they needed a Seer to help guide them through the murky decisions of battle.
He shuddered, hating to think he was the reason for this war. Lord Adam had clearly been planning for some time, but the abduction had been the final catalyst.
Rhys never would have left the mountains but for him. He closed his eyes, thinking back to his dream.
Rhys is the dragon. Adam continues to gather troops. There were new banners from the last time I saw him. He’s getting stronger.
The dragon’s agonized roar echoed in his mind. He hated to think the druids might be practicing their dark craft on Rhys, but why? They had only wanted Sean for the power he had. Rhys had none of a Seer’s power.
Sean lowered his head into his hands, trying to form the words of a prayer. But now that he had finally seen Rhys again after seven long years, he didn’t know how to pray for him.
“You all right?” Alan’s drowsy voice startled him. He looked over at the bed opposite, eyes adjusted enough to the dark to see Alan.
“Fine,” he replied. “Sorry if I woke you.”
“You dream?”
Sean nodded, then realized that Alan probably couldn’t see him. “I always dream. But it was nothing.”
Alan grunted. “I don’t quite believe that. What did you see?”
Sean debated whether or not to tell him, but Alan could be persistent, especially if he thought something was wrong.
“I saw Rhys,” he half-whispered.
Alan bolted up in bed. “I thought you hadn’t been able to see him in years?”
“Well, I didn’t see him exactly. I saw Castle Bright and a dragon.”
“A dragon?” Doubt crept into Alan’s voice.
“It’s him.” Sean related his vision.
Alan punched a fist into his blankets. “We should have made him come with us. We all could have escaped.”
Sean wanted to agree, but as much as he hated to admit it, Rhys’s sacrifice had given them the time to get away. “You remember how stubborn he was.”
Alan chuckled dryly. “Still is apparently.”
“What happened to him, Alan?”
“You mean besides being accused of killing a friend, publicly whipped and branded a traitor, and then cast out of his clan, forbidden to see his family again?” Bitterness laced Alan’s voice.
Sean fought back his own anger, at Brogan, at himself for not going to his brother the second he had heard. Even a little at Rhys.
“The war happened, Sean.” Alan gave a heavy sigh. “It was—hell. The Karanti waged a war like no one had ever seen. They showed no mercy, they couldn’t be reasoned with. Seven years later, I still have nightmares about the things I saw, things I did, like I’m there again. I’m not surprised Rhys lost his faith. I just wish I had realized sooner, then maybe I could have done something. Just one more time I wasn’t there for him.”
“Alan, don’t blame yours
elf,” Sean began, but Alan cut him off.
“No. I know he hates Brogan for what he did, but he should hate me too. After everything, I was going to go find him. But my uncle was waiting for me. He had looked the other way for Neil, but he told me that anyone who gave their help to him would suffer the same fate.” Alan took a short breath. “So I didn’t. I was too scared that my uncle would follow through. I gave him up. I didn’t even try.”
“You’re not the only one,” Sean admitted after a moment. “They told me the same. I wanted to find him, to get the truth from him myself, but I couldn’t bear the thought of leaving my family or Sarah, forever. What brother does that?”
Especially a brother that had relied on Rhys for everything—comfort from the darkest things he’d seen, or a quick word of encouragement when the burdens of the Gift overwhelmed him. Sean had felt like only half of himself since Rhys had been banished.
Alan drew his knees up and rested his arms atop them with another sigh. “The worst of it is that I know what he would have said if I had gone after him. He wouldn’t have wanted us to come. But we didn’t even give him the chance to tell us.”
Sean said nothing for several long minutes. Rhys had always been there for him. And he hadn’t gone the one time Rhys would have needed him.
“What do you think will happen now with Damon?” Sean asked.
“I don’t know. Sarksten would be the one to call a retrial of the original lords.”
“And what would Brogan say?”
The light beginning to grow outside the window silhouetted Alan’s shrug. “He’ll put it off until after the trouble with Adam is done with. But after—I don’t know if any man who’s been made outcast has ever been welcomed back into the Clans.”
They both lay back down, but neither slept until the bell tolled out the first morning hour.
A servant brought breakfast to their rooms. Either Sarksten usually provided his guests with enough food for a small army, or he’d decided Sean and Damon were on the brink of starvation.
Jes took only a slice of bread and some fruit, pacing around the room as he ate. Alan declined food altogether. Sean had never understood how Alan could do without the morning meal. He and Damon easily took care of the rest of the bread, boiled eggs, and fruit fresh enough to drive away the last memories of the meager meals he’d been living off of for the last few months.
When the servant returned to clear the tray, the steward came with him to call Alan to meet with Lord Sarksten and his council to discuss the preparations for the upcoming war.
Alan left with a look to Jes that sent a spark of irritation through Sean. Like we can’t be trusted to look after ourselves for a few hours?
But with nothing else to do, Sean and Damon wandered the halls of the Carraig, Jes their constant shadow. For the moment, Damon was considered just another guest until Sarksten saw fit to reveal who he was.
They paced the walls, Sean trying not to think about the dizzying drop on the other side.
“How much longer do you think?” Damon asked, speaking for almost the first time that morning.
Sean shrugged. It had been five days since they had left the Wolf’s Head. It would have taken Bryn several days to ride to the Clans, and then who knew how long it would take for the Clans to make the journey. He knew from his dreams that they were already gathering under the Chieftain’s war banner, but armies were not known for their speed.
The clash of weapons drew their attention down to the courtyard where Sarksten’s soldiers trained. Damon watched, his hand clasping air at his side as if he held a blade in his hands.
“You trained, right?” he asked.
Sean nodded. Clan law stated that every boy of fourteen years trained for two years in combat. He served his two years but never felt the call of war like Rhys did. Besides, Brogan would have refused to let him go. They needed their youngest Seer safe, not out on the battlefields.
“I wasn’t as good as Rhys,” he said. It was strange to say his name out loud, an odd act of defiance.
“Few were.” Damon smiled. “War is coming again. Would you pick up a blade this time?”
Sean glanced at him. He wasn’t sure if the young man asked as a friend or as a prince. But he decided to answer honestly. “If it will get Rhys back and see the right man on the throne, then yes.”
Damon gave a half-smile. “I’m not the right man for the job anymore. Don’t know if I ever was. But I know Adam isn’t. And I owe it to Rhys to let the truth be known.”
Sean returned the smile. “Well, I don’t know about you, but I’ll be a bit rusty with a blade.”
“Think Alan will be willing to help us embarrass ourselves?”
Sean laughed. “Oh, more than likely.”
“You’ve known Alan a long time then?” Damon asked.
“My whole life. He and—the Baron,” Sean switched back to the title after a quick glance at Jes, “have been raising the flames together since they were three years old after Alan’s mother left him with Brogan and ran off. It didn’t take much for my parents to open our home to him as well.”
“So the Baron comes by adopting people honestly, then?” A smirk played across Damon’s face.
Sean laughed. “You too?”
Damon nodded. “I’d just lost my entire family.” A bit of sadness leaked through his voice. “It didn’t take long for him to become the big brother I still needed. Looks like he didn’t make it out of the war either.”
Sean looked out towards the mountains, the place that Rhys had lived since the war. He nearly agreed with Damon after seeing the Baron. But something held back the words. He’d still seen some flashes of Rhys, and the stories that his men had told showed that he was still there, somewhere.
Sean snuck a glance back at where Jes walked a few paces behind, an unreadable expression on his face.
“Maybe he did.”
Amusement brightened Damon’s hazel eyes. “I’m sorry you aren’t able to go home yet.”
Sean swallowed hard and nodded. “It is what it is.” He nearly choked trying to keep the words light.
“That’s probably the worst lie I’ve ever heard.”
Sean half-laughed. “Aye, well, guess I never thought I’d be this important to so many people.”
“I know the feeling.” Damon shook his head. “I was never supposed to be anything more than a second son.”
Sean felt a strange sort of kinship with the prince. With Rhys gone, his father had looked to Sean as the firstborn, putting unfamiliar weight on his shoulders along with the burdens of the Gift. If it wasn’t for Sarah, he would have fallen a long time ago.
“So what will you do?” Sean asked. “I know you said you’ll fight, but what then?”
Damon shrugged, glancing down at the training courts again, then up at the towers. “I don’t know. Right now I don’t have a home to go back to.”
“Sarksten seemed willing enough to take you in.”
“We’ll see what happens after he tells everyone I’m still alive. I don’t know that I’m important enough to make a difference in any of their plans.” The slump returned to Damon’s shoulders.
Sean remembered the albatross banner from his visions. “Now who’s lying to himself?”
Damon tilted his head to regard Sean.
“I just don’t think you should sell yourself short.”
Damon rubbed a hand through his hair and said nothing. But he stood a little straighter.
“Should we head down and wait for Alan?” Sean asked. Damon readily agreed.
By the time they found their way back down the courtyard, Alan had come to find them.
“How was the council?” Sean asked.
Alan tipped his head back to the sky with a groan. “Another reminder that I don’t want to inherit Uncle’s position.”
Sean chuckled. Alan had been complaining about the potential inheritance since the day he’d been told he could be chosen to succeed Brogan.
“What have you
been doing?” Alan rubbed at his shoulder.
“Thinking about doing some sparring,” Damon said.
“Really?” Alan’s eyes brightened in uncomfortable interest.
I regret this already.
“There should be some practice swords over here.” He strode off towards the armory. “Should be some nice, light ones for you to use, Sean,” he called over his shoulder with a smirk.
Sean rolled his eyes. “And so it begins.”
Damon chuckled.
It took only a few minutes for Alan to find some practice blades and a small training court to use. And an even shorter amount of time to help them discover just how deconditioned they were. While Sean had only spent a short time in the dungeon compared to Damon, he still had not used a blade in years.
Jes watched from a bench nearby, reclining with a faint smirk tucked in the corner of his mouth.
“I almost regret this.” Damon rested hands on his knees and wheezed for breath after an extended training sequence.
Alan showed none of Sean’s sympathy. “Jes, care to go a round while these two catch their breath?” he asked.
The Gedrinian rose from the bench and stretched in several fluid movements. “I surely could do no worse, could I?”
“Very funny.” Sean rolled his eyes as Alan chuckled.
Sean took a grateful seat with Damon, setting aside his dull practice blade and watching the two warriors warm up with a few easy moves. Jes cracked his fingers and took up his curved blade again.
“You ready?” he asked. Alan replied with a salute and they began.
Sean leaned forward, watching the deadly grace of the opponents, their crisp movements refreshing the memories of lessons from long ago. Beside him, Damon’s foot or hand occasionally twitched, clearly doing the same as Sean and putting himself in their place, trying to tell his body to remember how it felt.
A soldier interrupted, and Alan and Jes called a draw.
“Sir,” he addressed Alan. “There’s a man calling for you at the bridge. Looks like a Highlander.”
Jes sheathed his sword instantly. “Rorie.”
Oath of the Outcast Page 17
