"What else do the stories say?"
"They say that he once tricked a pure and noble Clan of the Bathron into granting him keeping of their most sacred artifact -- a holy relic of the Aerai Majin." He sighed, and shook his head. "But these are only legends I once heard."
Adrenaline surged through Telyn. Finally, they were on the right track, and they might actually learn something useful. Whether he believed them or not, the stories Marat heard were more than mere legends. In them, she could find the truth of what happened to her father's Clan, and gain an understanding of the man they were hunting. If she was right, they were on the verge of figuring out where he was, and why he'd come to Ulambara. "He was a real Majin, then?"
He chuckled. "Are there any other kind? Pelarius Brunnari was a man of no small consequence, as the story goes--"
"Wait." Nacaris broke in, frowning. "What was that name, again?"
"Pelarius Brunnari. Brunnari means 'grave robber' in the Bathron tongue. In the Endlands, the name becomes Limbdigger."
Telyn and Nacaris locked gazes, and she saw the same shock of recognition in his eyes that clenched in her gut. She was right.
"Brun-Gild," they both said at the same time.
"Pardon?"
Telyn recovered first, with a shake of her head. "Nothing. Please continue."
"The legends say he was a man consumed by his desire for power and the pursuit of eternal youth. And that, because of his greed, he was eventually banished from the Bathron Clan that had once accepted him. Many of the legends say that he brought about the destruction of that Clan, and continues his quest to this day, robbing the young of their youth, and using forbidden Majik to his own devious ends. It is not a pleasant tale, in either the hearing or the telling."
No, it wasn't. But it was even worse to have lived with it. Nausea twisted within Telyn's gut, and she knew she was right, all along. Brun-Gild was a monster, and now she learned the terrible truth -- he'd defiled something sacred and pure. He wasn't just a murderer -- he was a nightmare come to life.
"Thank you," she rose to her feet and bowed to Marat in sincere gratitude. She now had the strength of certainty behind her. She would not falter in her quest. "I must go."
Marat and Nacaris exchanged a look that wasn't lost on her, before both men rose to their feet as well.
"You're not going anywhere without me, Telyn." Nacaris moved a step closer, and when she saw the determination in his eyes, and felt the dedication that poured from him, she never wanted to kiss him more than at that moment. He truly would follow her into the Underworld, and beyond. And she could not ask that of him.
"Nor I." Marat's dark eyes flashed with something else -- the light of kinship, the knowledge that they shared a tribal bond more important than any mission, or even the bond of blood. "If you insist on pursuing such a man as I've just described, I must swear my own sword to the task. I will not be the one to bear the news to Dariadus that his favored pupil has met an untimely end while I sat safe in my caravan."
He made it sound like a matter of honor, and she silently thanked him for that, even though she knew it was more. With a nod to both men, she turned toward the caravan entrance. "We leave at dusk, tomorrow. In the meantime, let's find Lysha and make our plans."
Chapter Fifteen
Finding Lysha, as it turned out, was no difficult thing. The Borderlander Minegard leaned against one wooden side of the caravan, gaining curious looks from Marat's apprentices and associates. As they exited the caravan, she cast a curious look between Telyn and Nacaris.
"Learn anythin'?"
Grim humor coursed through Telyn. Talk about understatements. "I did, indeed."
One blonde brow arched at that, before her gaze settled on Marat and she suddenly straightened. "An' who'd this be, then?"
Telyn turned, to see the frank appreciation in Marat's eyes as his gaze swept over Lysha. Then, with a rakish grin that stirred an old, untouchable memory within her, Marat swept the blonde woman a courtly bow.
"I am Marat, of the Shelliac Order of Baroch," he introduced himself smoothly in Targothic.
Lysha looked to Telyn in bewilderment. "What's he sayin'?"
Telyn smothered a grin. Like most Borderlanders, Lysha was versed in only three languages -- the Gild's Tagra, the Bathron Balathix, and the Borderlander combination called Tagalic. With an apologetic grin, she translated, "His name is Marat Barochot."
Marat's confused gaze met hers, before his brow smoothed and he smiled in apology at Lysha. "Forgive me, but your friends and I share a past, and I assumed you knew my language, as well."
Lysha shrugged one shoulder up in negligent forgiveness. "'Tis a'right."
She extended her hand toward Marat for the customary Borderlander greeting. He surprised her by taking hold of her hand with a smile, and bowing low over it, touching his forehead to it in an Endlander sign of great respect.
Observing them, Telyn smothered another smile, even as a small flame of understanding kindled deep within her, and she knew. Kishfa worked in mysterious ways, indeed, and the power she was only beginning to discover allowed her to know that her companions had their own destiny to play out.
Casting Nacaris an amused look, she said, "I'm going to check out the Cloister of Majik. I imagine they'll know if Brun-Gild's been through here in recent days."
Nacaris' gaze darted to their companions, and he nodded. "I'll go along. I believe our friends can manage without us."
The open humor in his voice told her that he, too, knew exactly what was happening. With a wink, he gestured her away from the caravan, and they started toward the heart of the holy sanctum, where the Cloisters were.
Once they were a short ways from the caravan, Nacaris eyed her warily. "You knew all along, didn't you?"
Her heart rate picked up on cue. Just what was he accusing her of knowing? "What?"
"That Brun-Gild and Limbdigger were the same man."
She relaxed, and shrugged. "I had suspicions."
"And you think he has the Phoenix Book."
That was more complicated. "I think he knows where it is, anyway."
"And you think he's just going to tell you?" He shook his head. "Telyn..."
"No." She shot him a quelling look. "I don't think he's going to tell me at all. But if there's one thing Brun-Gild can't resist, it's bragging. And sooner or later, he'll slip. He'll hint at where it is, give away some clue that will tell me where he's stashed it."
"So what are you hoping to learn at the Cloister of Majik, exactly?"
She wasn't about to tell him. Instead, she changed the subject. "Why didn't you tell me you knew Dariadus?"
He shrugged again, and repeated the same blithe response. "You didn't ask."
"Don't give me that." She stopped, her hand on his arm as she dragged him around to face her. She was confused, angry, and very much afraid she'd already failed everyone she ever loved. She was spoiling for a fight, and she wasn't too particular if she took it out on him. "You knew who I was. You knew I was trying to place you."
He looked surprised by that. "You were? Then you play a closer hand than I ever suspected, Telyn. You're miserably difficult to read even at the best of times, and I can honestly say I had no idea you were even aware I existed, back then."
"But you recognized me, didn't you?"
He bit out a sharp laugh. "Oh, yes, I recognized you. I knew you were at Raiador before I even caught sight of you."
That rocked her back on her heels with the feeling she'd been slapped. What was he saying? "How is that possible?"
Nacaris sighed heavily, and scrubbed one hand across his face. "We don't have time for this, right now, Telyn. I promise you, when this is all over, I'll tell you everything."
As he turned on his heel and started walking again, Telyn's bewilderment was complete. Memories roared through her like a wildfire set ablaze, each with the power to change her life forever, if she let them. Her breath died in her throat, and she was suddenly dizzy, even as she hurried
to catch up with him. Blessed Kishfa, was it even possible...?
"How do you suppose he does it?"
The question caught her off-guard, and she blinked at Nacaris in confusion. "Who?"
"Brun-Gild. Brunnari. Whatever his name really is. How do you think he's managed to stay alive all this time?"
She shuddered. She didn't have to guess. She'd heard the rumors for cycles, and she saw the truth of it at Raiador. "Didn't you ever notice how many really young people lived at Raiador?"
His brow furrowed. "I thought it was typical for Miners to be young."
"Not just the Miners. The acolytes, the Minegards. In fact, everyone at Raiador except for Brun-Gild was under the age of thirty, and most under their majority." The cold knot returned to her stomach. If only she'd paid attention to her instincts all those cycles ago. "I heard rumors, when I was growing up, and then when I was training in Colandra. People whispered that Brun-Gild was using forbidden Cetlahe Afach to stay alive."
"I gather from the 'forbidden' part that these are bad."
She nodded. "He sucks the youth from those around him."
"How?"
"I don't know. I'm not sure anyone does. At least, if they do, no one's ever talked about the how. I always thought it was just superstition, or just stories people liked to tell to frighten children. Then I was sent to Raiador." She shuddered. "The whole time I was there, I felt like the life was being pulled right out of me. I spent most days alternating between madness from Raiador's pull and this haze I couldn't seem to shake. The madness bothered me so much, I never really thought about the haze until I went back to Raiador as a Gildgard."
She could feel the rage pouring from Nacaris, even before she glanced his way, to see the raw fury in his clenched jaw and furrowed brow. Anger, she understood, but there was something more to this fury. Something dangerous.
"Nacaris?"
"I'll kill him," he muttered from between clenched jaws. "I'll wring his scrawny little neck."
"Nacaris, you can't. He knows where the Phoenix Book is, and he has Sele. His fate is in the hands of the Elders." She gripped his forearm tightly, drawing his attention. "You can't kill him. Neither of us can."
He stared back at her, his eyes blazing with a combination of fury and pain that reached out to her, and wrenched tears to her eyes. "Telyn..."
He gathered her into a hard embrace, but his hold softened as soon as his arms closed around her, and a shudder lunged through him as he rested his cheek against the top of her head. Telyn relaxed into his embrace. She needed this as much as he did. She needed to know there was still something to fight for in the twisted mire her life had become.
After a long moment, she finally pulled back to smile up at him. "Come on, old bear. We've got a madman to capture."
He quirked a wry smile her way, and draped one arm comfortably across her shoulders as they continued. Telyn bit back her own smile. Nacaris was good for her. She refused to look beyond the here and now. The future would arrive all too soon.
Chapter Sixteen
Telyn cast a look Nacaris' way as she stepped up to the doors of the Cloister of Majik. She wouldn't admit it, but her heart was in her throat. She fought to keep her outward expression calm and cool despite her fear and distress. She didn't like this. She'd never been comfortable in the presence of Maji. Now, they were all around her, clustered in small groups throughout the Cloister's courtyard, conversing in Majikal languages Telyn couldn't even begin to interpret. She wasn't sure she wanted to, either.
"You're doing fine." Nacaris' murmured reassurance snapped her gaze to him in surprise. Was her expression that transparent?
He smiled, squeezing her hand lightly. "No one else's noticed. They don't know you like I do."
Her shoulders relaxed in relief, and new confidence spread through her. She wasn't alone. Nacaris had her back. She could do this. She glanced around again, studying the Maji for signs of danger. None of them wore a weapon, and most were clad in long robes and cloaks denoting the Order to which they belonged. Telyn glanced down at her leather armor, dusty and stained from the trail, and grimaced. Small wonder she was drawing attention, armed to the teeth as she was and dressed like she was fresh from the battlefield. Here, she stood out like a colossus in a village of dwarves.
She tried to ignore the returned stares as she lifted her hand and pounded on the heavy wooden door. After a moment, the window inset in the door opened, and a shriveled, pinched face surrounded by tightly bound silver hair stared out at her.
"We don't accept pilgrims."
Telyn swallowed back her nervousness, and faced the woman directly. "I'm not a pilgrim. I've come to speak with your Mistress."
Those shrewd eyes swept over her, and the elderly woman harrumphed in disbelief. "I don't grant audiences with the Mistress. What do you want?"
Telyn sighed. This wasn't going to be easy. "I seek the truth."
"Doesn't everyone?"
"Orasa, that's enough," came a stern but serene voice from behind the old woman. "Open the door."
The older woman glared at Telyn, but muttered, "Yes Mistress."
Then her face disappeared, and the window chock slammed closed. Telyn traded a wary glance and a shrug with Nacaris, uncertain if the door would open. But a clunking noise, followed by a creak, assaulted her ears before the door swung open to reveal a stately older woman, tall and reed-thin, and dressed in the smoke-grey robes of the Order of Truth. The serenity of her expression, and frank observation of them, sent conflicting sensations of comfort and uneasiness through Telyn. As if this woman could see her innermost secrets.
The woman's lips flickered in a mysterious smile as she folded her hands before her in a prim, expectant manner that told Telyn this woman was used to obedience. "How may we help you this day, Sera?"
Telyn blinked, startled, and then realized that the woman most likely noticed the anaqueri at her side. Aware that her status as a Gildgard might be all that won them entrance to this Cloister, she thumped her chest in the traditional greeting of a Gildgard to one of the esteemed members of the House of Gild.
"Mistress, we don't mean to disturb your Cloister. We are here in search of information."
One slim, silver eyebrow rose. "Indeed. Sera, this is not a tourister's hut, or a market carafaed's stall. What information do you seek that you believe we can, or will, share with you?"
Telyn drew herself up tall. She knew how this played out. Maji were a cagey lot, tending to keep to their own, and Masters and Mistresses were even more protective of their charges and Orders. They understood the purpose and mission of the Gildgard, but few were openly trusting or even accepting of those who often gave their lives in the protection of the Order or charge. It was a sad way of her world, and one she knew she had to change, if she was going to convince this Mistress to help her.
"I know you are Mistress of the Order of Truth, and that you are bound by your oath to speak only the truth, to answer the questions of those who come to you seeking truth and justice with complete honesty."
Surprise registered in the Mistress' blue-green eyes. "You are well-studied, young Gildgard. Tell me, how did you come by this knowledge?"
A bleak smile tugged at Telyn's lips, to know that the very heritage she once so desperately strove to rid herself of was now to be her only saving grace. "I was reared in the home of a Mistress of the Healiart, and my first disposition and training was to the Arts of the Maji."
She felt Nacaris' surprised gaze burning into her back. She understood his shock. She revealed this part of her life to no one except Dariadus and Raleena. She knew they both understood the burdens of Majikal heritage.
The Mistress' expression softened abruptly, and the first welcoming smile Telyn had seen since they neared the Cloister wreathed its way across the woman's face in smoky wisps.
"I sense the truth in what you speak. Well met, Daughter. I am Mistress Jebodatha Rhys-Gild. Please, come within and tell me why you have sought us out. Have you come to res
ume your studies?"
Telyn suppressed her shudder as they followed Mistress Jebodatha into the heart of the Cloister. Though she knew she would one day have to resume her tutelage in the Majikal arts, now that she knew her destiny as the Phoenix, she wasn't in any hurry to start. Old aversions died slowly, and she hadn't yet come to grips with what she was becoming -- what she'd most likely been all along.
"I fear not, Mistress," she responded to the woman's query. "I am on a grim mission, at current. Have you heard of the abduction of Mistress Sele Tora-Gild?"
Jebodatha nodded briskly, her features puckering in concern and disapproval. "Ghastly business. But what has it to do with you?"
Telyn drew a deep breath. This was where it would get tricky. While she was grateful she wouldn't have to explain about the abduction, she knew that the Mistress, like any other member of the House of Gild, wouldn't be very accepting of the truth behind the abduction. Masters and Mistresses of the House were supposed to be above reproach, and while many had probably harbored suspicions about Brun-Gild over the cycles, they wouldn't be very open to having those suspicions confirmed -- particularly not by one who was not full-blood Gild.
"Mistress Lanoki charged us with her rescue." She indicated Nacaris with a nod of her head.
Jebodatha's curious gaze took in Nacaris' appearance, and lack of an anaqueri. "You're not a Gildgard."
"No." He tilted his head in reverence. "I was contracted by GrandMaster Wychel to investigate a problem at Raiador."
Mistress Jebodatha looked curious, but didn't ask any more questions of him, turning instead to Telyn as she indicated them to precede her into a small chamber. "I still don't understand how her rescue would bring you to my Cloister."
Telyn sighed, and waited until the Mistress seated herself at the chamber's wide table before she answered. "To rescue Mistress Sele, we must find a man I believe to be the last one to see her. Have you heard of or seen a man by the name of Pelarius Brunnari?"
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