Second Son (The Minstrel's Song Book 2)

by Jenelle Leanne Schmidt

  “My name is Zara.”

  “Zara,” he repeated, and the name seemed to echo about the forest, “would you join me for dinner tonight?”

  “Aren’t you dining with the Baron of Yatensea tonight?”

  “Yes,” he said in a tone that seemed to ask why this would matter.

  “Very well,” Zara said, “I would be honored.”

  Arnaud’s face lit up. “Good… then…I’ll see you then,” he could not seem to make his words sound coherent as he turned and left the willow-ring to gather his horse. It was not until later that he thought to wonder how she had known he already had company for dinner.

  Riding back to the palace, Arnaud could have had his eyes closed for all he noticed the scenery that flashed by him. When he arrived back in his chambers, he did not even hear the frustrated squawks of his servants who fussed over him and exclaimed at how close to being late he was. When he announced that he needed another place setting at the table, he was oblivious to the cook’s obvious exasperation at having to change things on such short notice. The grumbled curses and threats were ignored, and Arnaud practically flew back to his room to get dressed. The only servant that was at all pleased at this news was Tucker, who found himself working with a king who finally appeared to be willing to dress according to his rank.

  CHAPTER

  TWENTY-THREE

  It was a girl; tiny, perfect, and so frail it seemed a puff of wind could carry her away. She had bright green eyes like her mother and a hint of dark fuzz on top of her head. The kingdom rejoiced at the birth of the tiny princess. Her parents laughed and cried, so great was their joy at the arrival of this newest member of the House of Arne. Seamas and Llewana named her Faeyna.

  “She is so precious,” Llewana whispered to her husband as they stood staring down at the sleeping form of their baby.

  Seamas put an arm around Llewana’s shoulders and hugged her close, his heart too full to speak. He wanted to tell her that this moment of happiness made up for any pain or sadness he had ever felt, he wanted to let her know just how much he loved her, but he could not seem to find the right words. Llewana gazed up at him, love and happiness shining in her eyes, and Seamas knew she understood.

  Faeyna was a precocious, but delicate child, walking at just nine months and babbling away in her own baby language without pausing for breath. She was tiny for her age, but rarely ever fussed or cried.

  “Truly a fairy-child, that she is,” Tobias commented fondly one night. Oldest and best friend to both Seamas and Llewana, Tobias frequently dined with the royal couple. He was like an uncle to Faeyna and he spoiled her marvelously.

  The little girl was perched on the commander’s knee, and she stared up at him with wise eyes. Her eyes had darkened from their original bright, emerald color, and now they were a deeper, forest green. She babbled something excitedly and then pulled on Tobias’ goatee. Laughing, the great warrior pried the child’s fingers from his beard and set her back on her mother’s lap.

  “The borders are secure,” he said to Seamas. “I just received word today. The seheowks are under control, but they grow in numbers every year. At some point we will be forced to meet them in an all-out war.”

  “No,” Seamas shook his head, “we cannot do that. We must become as cunning as they and strike whenever we can. A war would be too much for our people, especially since they have been kept unaware of this danger. My father guarded the knowledge of the seheowks more than the keys to his treasure houses.”

  “Aye,” Tobias nodded. “When I started out on Border Patrol it was a shock to me to learn how often our borders were attacked by the vile creatures. I beg your pardon, my lady,” he nodded at Llewana, who had risen from her seat and grown quite pale, “we had promised not to speak of such things over dinner and there I go. Forgive me; I will not bring it up again.”

  Llewana managed a shaky smile, and sat back in her chair. Seamas noticed that her face remained pale and drawn and he looked at her in concern.

  “Are you all right?”

  “Yes, I think I’m just tired. Seamas, please take Faeyna, I need to lie down for a bit.”

  Llewana left the room and there was an awkward silence. After a moment, Tobias rose and bowed his head slightly to Seamas.

  “I need to be going as well,” he said. “Tell Milady that I hope she is feeling better soon.”

  “I will,” Seamas nodded then he added, “I am sorry.”

  “Nothing to be sorry for, Majesty.”

  Seamas watched as his friend left the room. Tobias was a man he could trust. The king sighed and bounced Faeyna on his knee.

  “Ready for ni-night?” he asked.

  “Nah nah,” the child replied.

  Seamas raised his daughter up over his head and threw her in the air, catching her and cradling her in the safety of his arms to her gurgling delight. “That’s right, it’s ni-night time!”

  He tucked his daughter into bed and went to check on Llewana. He grew concerned when he heard her gasping, rattling breathing and he called for the new court physician immediately. When the physician arrived Seamas paced outside the door, nervous energy making it impossible to stand still, until the doctor emerged once more from the room. He was shaking his head as he closed the door behind him quietly.

  “What is it?” Seamas asked.

  “Sire, I am afraid it is the fever.” At Seamas’ panicked and somewhat distraught look, the court physician raised a hand. “It is serious, but I think I have caught it in time. She will be weak for a time. It is your daughter that I am concerned about.”

  “Faeyna?” Seamas asked a little bewildered. “But... she’s fine. I just put her to bed.”

  “I am afraid that she may have caught the fever from your wife, or perhaps it is the other way around; either way I would like to have a look at the child, young ones are more susceptible to this illness. It can strike without warning.”

  “Of course, come.”

  When they entered the room, Seamas was taken aback at the confusion and chaos that they found there. The baby had woken and was screaming at the top of her lungs. Her face was twisted and pinched and red with the effort of her howling. Great tears were peeking out of the corners of her eyes and she was standing up in her crib and stamping her little booted feet. Her nurse was bent over the crib trying to calm her.

  Seamas hurried over and picked her up. He rocked her back and forth, but nothing would quiet the child. The physician darted in and took the baby. He checked her heartbeat and looked in her mouth and eyes. Then he spooned out some kind of powder and fed it to her. After a few minutes, her wailing stopped and she sighed as she fell asleep.

  “There are definite signs of the fever,” the physician said sadly, handing her back to Seamas.

  “How is this possible? She was fine less than an hour ago!”

  “That is the way of this illness, it comes on suddenly.”

  “What does that mean?” Seamas asked woodenly.

  “I can give you herbs and medicines to keep her out of pain, but she is too young to fight the illness. It is as I feared, it is already too late. She has never been a strong child, I am sorry. I must focus on saving your wife. The child is already beyond my help. Perhaps if Jhasen were still here... I saw him perform, well, his healing touch was almost like magic,” the physician realized he was rambling and paused. “I am sorry, Sire, I am not him.”

  The physician left, but Seamas hardly noticed. He stood there, clutching his tiny, sleeping daughter to his chest and crooning softly to her and kissing her soft little head. His world had suddenly spun wildly out from underneath him and tossed him into the freezing waters of the ocean. He gasped for breath, as a drowning man, and then the great pain that was wrenching at his heart suddenly burst out through his eyes and he sank down to his knees and sobbed.

  ❖ ❖ ❖

  “This is the last secret,” Calyssia said quietly, leading Brant across the pearly sand.

>   He followed her, as he was accustomed to doing. Brant did not know how long he had been in Pearl Cove. Sometimes it felt as though he had only been there a few hours, and yet he knew it had been many days, perhaps even weeks.

  Calyssia had imparted so much knowledge in so short a time. She had taught him the history of Aom-igh and showed him detailed maps of the country. She explained to him how the Harshlands had once been home to the dragons and how the great beasts had scoured it with their magic until it had become so entwined with the land that even the absence of the dragons could not remove their magic from the sands. In addition to her history lessons, Calyssia also picked up where Sheyardin had left off teaching him about myth-folk and magic.

  Brant proved to be a quick learner and Calyssia had little to find fault with in him. Once he had learned something, he never forgot it. Also, Sheyardin had already taught him quite a lot, leaving very few holes in his education. It only remained to Calyssia to teach him about his new homeland.

  “The last secret?” Brant asked in curiosity.

  “From what you have told me, you have heard of it before, but now you will see it for yourself. I have often told you that I am the Keeper. Many take that to mean the ‘keeper of the cove’ and they are correct, but I am keeper of the Cove only because I am keeper of the gate.”

  Brant was surprised, but he kept silent. He had learned that the best way to get answers from his teacher was to not ask them.

  They came to a great white sand dune and Calyssia turned to him solemnly. “What you are about to see only four others above ground know of, and all of them are part of my immediate family. Even the people I harbor here in the Cove do not guess at this great secret. You must swear to guard this secret closer to you than your own heart and to only make use of its knowledge in a time of greatest need.”

  “I swear it by my Oath.”

  This satisfied the wizardess, who was the only living being in Aom-igh to have heard Brant’s full story, and she realized the depth of such a promise.

  “Enssselchan,” Calyssia spoke softly, drawing out the "s" in a long hiss. Brant recognized it as the Old Kraïc word for “open.”

  “A little obvious, don’t you think?” Brant asked.

  “Certainly obvious to you, however, there are few who believe in a secret realm of the dragons, and fewer still who speak Old Kraic. Apart from my own family, you alone know where to find this gate.”

  Brant was sobered by her comment as the dune began to shake and tremble. A large hole appeared on the side of the dune and Calyssia gestured at it.

  “We will not venture down into the tunnels, but this is the gate. It is the only entrance into Krayghentaliss that is accessible to humans, and I am its guardian.”

  “Krayghentaliss,” Brant said quietly in open wonder, memories suddenly flashing through his mind. “Master Sheyardin spoke of it. He said if I ever needed the help of the myth-folk I could find it here.”

  “And now you must go. This is the last and best secret for which I hold the key. There is nothing more you can learn here, and though you are welcome to stay, you will not.”

  “Go?” Brant gasped. “But I’ve only been here for…”

  “Two years, six months, and five days,” Calyssia interrupted smoothly.

  “That long?” Brant could hardly believe that he was hearing the truth. “Might I stay for a few more days?”

  “I told you,” Calyssia said, “you are welcome for as long as you care to stay.”

  As much as Brant hated to admit that he was wrong, he soon grew restless in Pearl Cove without Calyssia’s teaching. He realized the time to leave had indeed come.

  “You were right,” he said quietly as Calyssia came up and stood behind him. He was sitting on top of a small dune, staring out at the rolling sea.

  “You are leaving then?”

  “What curse is in my nature that will not allow me to sit still?”

  “It is not a curse, but rather, a gift.”

  “Perhaps.”

  “You are one who is driven to act, and yes, I call that a gift. Would you rather be content to be: merely passing through this world without leaving anything behind, without touching anything, untouched yourself?”

  “No… but I wonder, will I ever get to rest?”

  “I told Wessel to tack up your horse and fill your saddle bags with food,” Calyssia said, ignoring the question. “I had a feeling you would be leaving today.”

  “I have an old friend I need to look in on.”

  “Arnaud will be happy to see you again. Swift be your journey and safe be your return. We shall meet again, Brant of the House of Arne.”

  ❖ ❖ ❖

  Seamas fell to his knees next to the tiny mound of dirt beneath which his daughter had just been laid to rest. The physician had done all he could, but the child had been beyond his help.

  “Forgive me, Majesty,” the man had said as Faeyna slipped quietly from the realm of the living. “I have done all I can, it is only a matter of time now, and your wife can still be saved,” he shook his head sorrowfully. “If I had but a tenth of Jhasen’s skill… but no, I have nothing close to the power he had for healing. I saw him bring people to full health when other physicians had given them up for dead.”

  Now, Seamas stared down at the fresh mound of earth. “I am being punished,” he whispered. The pounding of his heart beat out a rhythm, “Woe! Woe!” Everything inside of him screamed: “My fault. My fault!”

  Feelings of helplessness and grief consumed him. He desperately wanted to sob, to rail angrily, but he could not. He was frozen, emotionless. Llewana laid a gentle hand on his shoulder, silent tears streaking her own face. She was still weak; the fever had almost claimed her life as well. Seamas was grateful she had been spared; he had come very close to losing everything in a single day.

  “Rest easy, little daughter,” he whispered into the dancing wind, and before his eyes he seemed to see a young girl dancing across fields of flowers. He heard musical laughter on the breeze and his heart was empty as he thought of all the days this little one would never see. Seamas closed his eyes and clasped the hand that rested on his shoulder, gathering strength from his wife’s presence. Llewana sank down next to him and they embraced, clinging to each other in their grief, drawing on each other’s strength. As the daylight waned they whispered their good-byes. Then, Llewana's hand clasped in his, Seamas turned slowly and led his wife away.

  “You should be in bed,” he said gently, “you are not fully recovered.”

  Tears sparkled in her eyes and Seamas discovered that there was a lump in his own throat as well. He brushed a hand across his eyes, as if dispelling cobwebs, and then he pulled Llewana closer to him and she rested her head on his shoulder as they walked back to the palace.

  ❖ ❖ ❖

  Arnaud and Zara sat on the old stone bench in the middle of the willow-ring. That day seemed so distant now, over a year ago, and Arnaud closed his eyes happily at the memory. These were the moments he found himself living for: the peaceful walks with her, sharing a meal and talking, or even just sitting here in this quiet clearing, staring at the pond, content to hold her hand in silence.

  Disturbing reports had begun to arrive from all over the country, and Arnaud was weighted down by the news he was receiving from his knights. The roads seemed awash with danger and some truly terrifying creatures were roaming the countryside. Despite all of these worries, however, Arnaud was truly happy in every moment he could spend with Zara.

  “Zara,” he said, turning to gaze into her face.

  “Yes?”

  “When I first met you, I did not even catch your name, so enraptured was I by your beauty. And then, as we danced and talked I found myself in complete admiration of you, your sense of humor, your intelligent conversation, and your gentle spirit. But you left then, and I did not even have a name by which I could find you,” he laughed ruefully. “Fate, it seems, is working on my behalf for o
nce. I heard your voice echoing through the forest and I followed it, almost entranced by it and then, there you were, sitting in a halo of light and singing. The picture was so innocent and beautiful that I felt sorely out of place in it. But I could not leave, for already I loved you.”

  “Arnaud…”

  “No, let me finish,” he said hurriedly. “I fell in love with you the day we met at the celebration, and every day since then I have grown to love you even more. I think that without you, my heart may well stop beating. Zara, what I mean is… what I am trying to say... will you marry me?”

  Zara opened her mouth and then shut it several times before she was able to form words; she seemed to be at a loss. At length she spoke, “Arnaud, I have not meant to be deceitful, but I could not bear to say anything that might make you stay away. And even now, I do not want to… at this moment I am happier than I ever thought I could be, for I love you as well…”

  “I don’t understand, what’s wrong?”

  “I am not exactly who you believe me to be. My name is, indeed, Zara, but what I have not told you is that I am the youngest daughter of Scelwhyn. I am a wizardess, Arnaud, and not wholly human. I am literally one of the myth-folk, and my life will span as many years as theirs. You believe me to be the same age as yourself, but in reality I have already seen three-quarters of a century. My family is especially long-lived, and if I do not fall into some kind of accident it is likely that I will see my four-hundredth birthday come and go. If I stop using magic altogether, my life will shorten, but not so much as to make me age like a human. I am telling you this because it would not be fair not to. I love you, Arnaud, but I do not wish to bring you any kind of pain or grief.”

  Arnaud stared at her in disbelief for a moment, and Zara winced, waiting for him to speak. “You love me?” he asked after a moment’s pause.

  Now it was Zara’s turn to stare. “Arnaud!” she said in a shocked tone. "Did you not hear anything I just said?”