“I think there is strength in me yet,” Arnaud replied. “Garen?”
“As long as I have breath, my sword is yours, Majesty,” the knight said, finding Brant’s confidence to be catching. “Let’s run these fell beasts out of our land!”
They began to pass the word among the ranks. Hundreds of flambeaux were lit, casting a great brightness out into the night. Then, holding his torch high above his head, Brant urged his horse forward into the battle. “Follow me!” he cried over his shoulder.
Arnaud and Garen lit their own remaining torches and kicked their horses into a run, following Brant. Together, the three men led the knights into battle one last time. Galvanized into action, the weary knights let out a roar as they followed their brave leaders into combat. Swinging their fiery brands wildly into the faces of their enemies the three riders pushed the seheowks back. When the knights saw their foes falling back before this brutal and insane attack, their hearts lifted and their spirits rose. Seconds later, the entire force of their army crashed down into the battle and the seheowks gave way before their ferocity and the dreaded flames.
Brant’s sword flashed and gleamed in the torchlight as he struck at the enemy repeatedly. He fought with the strength and skill of twenty men. He called out wildly in a ferocious voice. His words and his sword caused the enemy to fall back. As seheowks fell to his blade the knights rallied to him and found a new strength. The enemy continued to fall back, stunned by the sudden aggression from a prey they had thought nearly defeated. But the shock did not last long. The dark creatures were soon fighting back with a savagery the men could not withstand. The knights were pushed back farther and farther and even Brant began to wonder if it might not be better to retreat.
The sky was barely beginning to lighten when Brant turned to find Arnaud at his side. Their eyes met and Brant saw that Arnaud knew the battle was lost. The look on the king’s face told him there was nowhere to retreat. Brant steeled himself to the awareness that they were facing their deaths. Defeat swam before his eyes and he thought suddenly and intensely of his father.
“Even if we run, they will follow. We would not get far,” Arnaud’s tone was resigned, but there was a question in his voice, as though he was hoping that his friend had some final plan to see them safely out of their grim situation.
Brant nodded, but his dark eyes held no hope. “It is an honor to die beside so good a king and so great a friend.”
Arnaud acknowledged the words with a nod, accepting his fate with stony indifference. “For Aom-igh then,” he said grimly, “let’s take a few of them with us!”
Brant raised his sword. “Cruithaor! Cruithaor Elchiyl! For Aom-igh! For the king!” he shouted the words defiantly into the very teeth of the seheowks. A few of the dark creatures seemed to stumble at his shouts, but they did not stop their advance.
With another yell, the two men raised their swords and at that moment, their cry of defiance seemed to echo all around them. The sound continued and horns rang out into the misty morning air. The cry became a deafening thunder that threatened to split the earth asunder. Brant twisted around in his saddle to witness the wonder that was happening.
The seheowks, who had been sure of their victory, paused, twisting their heads to find out what was happening. A single horse appeared behind the knights of the realm and Brant’s sharp eyes recognized the boy Justan. Behind the boy, an army materialized as if by magic. The seheowks seemed frozen in place as Justan raised his sword. The new army gave a mighty shout and Justan swung his sword and pointed at the enemy. The horses thundered down the hill flowing around the boy and leaving him safely behind. Brant thought he felt the ground shake before the coming force. The wearied and all but defeated knights around him tried valiantly to raise their voices in a cheer, but most were too exhausted.
“Your Majesty,” the leader of the new troops rode up to Arnaud as his forces thundered past and into the bewildered seheowks. “We are yours to command. The boy Justan brought us word of your plight and we came as quickly as we could. Forgive us for not arriving sooner.”
Arnaud, tired as he was, sat up straight in his saddle. “This day you have saved your country, your men will be remembered as great heroes for this deed.”
The captain lowered his gaze in acknowledgment of the great compliment he had just been paid. “By your leave, Sire,” the captain saluted and led his men into the fray, leveling the final blow against the enemy.
Arnaud looked out at the field and saw the tide of the battle turn. The seheowks, so close to victory mere moments ago, now found themselves fighting for their lives against a fresh enemy. They fought with a strength born of desperation, but they were falling before the quick swords of the fresh knights and the hooves of their horses. The Dragon’s Eye was rising over the battlefield in a blaze of fiery orange glory and Arnaud knew that the day was his. The seheowks had nowhere to go, and their power was weakened in the broad light of day.
The seheowks cowered in fear before the might of their foes and the brightness of the rising Dragon’s Eye weakened the dark creatures until they could do no more than throw down their weapons and flee back into the sea. The dark enemy was soon all but utterly destroyed and the knights hunted down the few who escaped and showed them every courtesy of a quick, clean death.
As dusk began to fall the wearied men followed their king as he set his face homeward to Ayollan. Garen and Brant rode at Arnaud’s side, and visions of home, comfort, and rest swept through the minds of every man there. Many of their friends were left behind, placed on a great pyre that they had constructed to honor the dead. The fire lasted a long time, causing the horizon behind them to flicker with an orange glow. It was an eight day journey back to the city, much longer than the trip normally would have taken, for many of the men were wounded, and all were far too exhausted to travel quickly. Finally, on the dawn of the ninth day the palace could be seen rising up across the river.
“We are almost home,” Arnaud said, and there was joy in his voice. “Zara will be glad to see us.”
“I wish you and your bride-to-be every happiness,” Brant replied.
“You are leaving again?”
Brant nodded quietly. “I will stay for your wedding, but then I must go. There is yet need for the King’s Warrior to be a presence in the land.”
“I am glad to hear you are staying for the wedding. I wanted to ask you to stand up front with me.”
“It would be an honor, my brother.”
“Preparations are already underway, you will be back on the road before long.”
As they reached the palace, Brant rode up to the front of the line to look for Justan, the lad who had so faithfully carried out his orders and saved the kingdom. Brant found the boy and handed him a knife. The blade was beautiful and sharp. The handle was a polished mahogany.
“This is just a trinket compared to the lives you saved, but I know you will use it well,” Brant saluted the boy as he would a fully trained knight.
“S… sir,” Justan stammered, but Brant held up a hand.
“Justan, your name means ‘hero’ in our tongue. This day you lived up to your name. Perhaps your parents knew what they named you, more likely they did not. In my eyes, this day you won your knighthood. You will make a splendid knight.”
Brant turned and rode away, disappearing among the other men. Justan sat up straighter in his saddle and examined the knife, his weariness slipping from his shoulders like an unneeded coat on a warm day.
Arnaud’s weariness slid away from him as well as they entered the city. The Dragon’s Eye had risen up over the horizon and the light of the funeral pyre in his memory was eclipsed by the brightness of the new day. Arnaud thought joyfully of Zara, knowing that he would soon be home.
CHAPTER
TWENTY-SIX
All of Ayollan took a day off to celebrate the marriage of their king to the beautiful Lady Zara. Brant stood with his friend while they waited for Zara’s arriva
l. The wedding was held in the courtyard of the palace, the same place where, years before, King Jairem had announced that the heir to his throne would come from a humble farmer’s cottage.
The day was lovely, but the loveliness of Arnaud’s bride outshone everything else. Dylanna and Leila were there carrying flowers, and Calyssia showed up as well. Brant took in stride the news that Arnaud’s bride was a wizardess, and the daughter of Scelwhyn, though he tried to express the sort of shock and amazement he knew Arnaud was expecting. The celebration after the wedding lasted all day and far into the night until the bride and groom said their farewells to their guests.
Brant was, for the first time in his life, the last one to leave. He kissed Zara’s cheek and hugged Arnaud.
“I wish you both every happiness,” he said. “If you ever need anything...”
“You have already done so much,” Arnaud replied, beaming. “Thank you.”
“Well, I must be off. The road is calling me.”
“Thank you for staying until the wedding,” Zara said. “It meant so much to Arnaud.”
“My pleasure,” Brant replied. “Couldn’t let my brother stand up there all alone.”
After another round of hugs and handshakes and congratulations, Brant departed. As he mounted his horse and rode into the night, he felt an unfamiliar sensation of regret. The freedom of the open road seemed strangely empty. He thought of Arnaud and Zara, the love and happiness in their eyes, and he suddenly felt very lonely.
❖ ❖ ❖
Garen stared up at the dark night sky in wonder; something big was happening, he had not seen a sky like this in over fifty years. The words of his teacher, Scelwhyn, came back to him. Even after all of the wise wizard’s teachings the superstitions of his childhood were hard to dispel. Garen studied the signs, knowing that great good and great trouble lay in the not so distant future. Reading the signs, he could tell that two children of royal blood were born this night, and both of them would have a great impact on future events. Garen silently thanked Scelwhyn for teaching him so much, though he knew he was more than content in the path he had chosen for his life.
Inside the palace, the dark-haired princess drew her first breath and let the world know it. Zara and Arnaud stared in wonder down at their tiny daughter and named her Kamarie Lynelle.
Brant approved of the name when he read about it in the message Arnaud sent him, announcing the birth of the princess. He turned his horse’s head north and headed to the palace for a visit so that he could meet the young princess and congratulate his friends.
Five years had passed peacefully since the great battle with the seheowks, and the kingdom remained safe. Brant spent much of his time on the road, stopping here and there to lend a hand to any who needed him. His life was much like that of a wandering minstrel, except that he did not sing or tell stories. He enjoyed his freedom, but he could not quite shake the feeling that something was missing in his life.
Far across the Stained Sea, another child raised his voice and cried out into the night. Seamas and Llewana named their son Jemson. They loved their son fiercely and protectively. Holding him helped ease their grief at losing Faeyna.
The prince of Llycaelon was born at very nearly the same moment as the princess of Aom-igh, though neither family was aware of the other’s existence. Miles apart, an ocean separating them, each pair of proud parents celebrated the birth of their own child, never dreaming of what dark events the future might hold for their children. Most did not even see the signs that night, and the few who did were unaware of their meanings.
Brant and Garen noted the signs, but could only guess at what they meant. Leila saw them but they meant nothing to her, hidden away in the Harshlands with her animals; her cats saw them and understood, but cats do not care much for the affairs of humans and so they kept their knowledge to themselves. Calyssia saw them and her heart grew heavy for she knew that the beginning of the end had come. Dylanna too saw the signs and determined to take every action she could to protect the princess. After a long discussion with her sister and brother-in-law, Dylanna was appointed Kamarie’s servant and guardian. Disguised by magic to look like a much older woman, Dylanna renamed herself ‘Darby’ and from that moment on was never far from the child.
Kiernan Kane also saw the signs, but he merely continued poking at his campfire with a sharpened stick. “The time draws near,” he muttered to himself cryptically. “We can only hope that all is in place, this time.” His old gray mule flicked an ear, but did not say anything.
❖ ❖ ❖
The lady was sitting in the middle of the road, a look of disgust on her face. Brant pulled his horse up short and looked around, wondering what had happened. Without a moment’s hesitation, he dismounted and offered his hand to the woman, helping her stand. It was on his lips to ask why she was in such a predicament, when he looked into her face and recognized her underneath her hat.
Imojean had been traveling home from a visit to a friend in the neighboring village when her horse had spooked. Normally an extremely competent rider, the young woman was surprised and embarrassed to find herself suddenly sitting in the middle of the road watching her horse disappear around the bend. Before she could even stand up and brush the dust of the road from her skirts Brant had arrived. At the sight of him Imojean experienced a myriad of emotions. When he dismounted she found that she was completely tongue tied. She had recognized him immediately, and she found her heart racing and her cheeks flushing, mostly from embarrassment, but partly because it was him.
“Imojean? Sir Nelstor’s daughter, right?” Brant said. The words were phrased as a question, but Brant knew he could never have forgotten that name or this face.
Imojean took his offered hand and stood, brushing the dust from her skirt, thoroughly flustered. “Yes, I thank you, Sir Brant.”
“What happened?”
Imojean flushed again, her composure slipping even further from her grasp. “My horse spooked and threw me. I was taken by surprise. Then the creature raced off, leaving me here. I’m sure I will find him back in the barn, utterly unrepentant and wanting to be fed. I don’t understand what happened, he’s normally a very even-tempered beast.”
“Can I offer you a ride home?” Brant asked.
Imojean looked up at him gratefully. “Would you mind? It’s not far but it would be a rather long way to walk, especially as night is drawing near.”
“It would not speak very well of my character if I were to leave you here,” Brant pointed out with a wry quirk to his mouth that made Imojean’s heart skip several beats. “Come, Valiant can carry both of us.”
Brant swung himself onto the tall, dark horse and then leaned down to help Imojean up. He lifted her easily and she settled in behind him.
“I’m guessing you haven’t fallen off a horse in a long while,” Brant commented as they set out.
Imojean felt her face getting warm and she was thankful she was behind him where he couldn’t see her. “I began riding before I could walk. I haven’t fallen in years.”
“I did not mean it as an insult,” Brant replied, catching the stiffness in her voice. “Forgive me if I offended you.”
“No, I’m the one who should be sorry, you’ve been a perfect gentleman.”
“Were you hurt at all?”
“Just my pride,” Imojean admitted.
Valiant danced a bit to the side of the road and Imojean tightened her arms around Brant. He glanced back at her, his eyes twinkling.
“Don’t worry. I won’t let you fall again.”
Imojean nodded and loosened her grip slightly. They continued talking as they rode, their conversation ranging from horsemanship to their mutual friends in the palace and the birth of the new princess. Imojean was envious to discover that Brant had already been to the castle to visit the baby and the proud new parents.
“It must be lovely to be able to travel wherever you want whenever you want,” she said. “How is little Ka
marie?”
“She’s adorable,” Brant’s eyes lit up, remembering the way the tiny princess had stared at him and curled her hand around his finger. “Arnaud and Zara are completely smitten.”
“I wish father and I could travel to Ayollan and meet the baby, but we can’t leave until after the cattle are taken up to the high pastures for the winter.”
“That will only be a few weeks, she won’t have gotten much bigger before you get to see her.”
The ride ended shortly and Imojean could not help but feel a bit disappointed that it was over. As Brant stopped in front of her house she noticed that it had gotten quite dark.
“Will you stay for a bit?” she asked. “My father will want to thank you for helping me, and I’m sure you could use a rest. Your horse will be taken care of, I assure you.”
Brant hesitated and seemed as though he would refuse, but then he nodded. “Thank you, I would like to see your father again.”
Imojean ordered one of the servants to take care of Brant’s horse, then she led him inside. There was a large group of people in the main room of the house and Sir Nelstor ran to the door and enveloped his daughter in a hug as soon as she entered the house. His face had been creased with worry, but the lines of anxiety fled when he saw Imojean.
“When your horse came back without you we feared the worst,” he said. “I was just organizing a search party for you.”
“Sir Brant brought me home,” Imojean said.
Sir Nelstor turned his attention to Brant. “I thank you,” he said gratefully. “Won’t you stay for dinner?”
“Thank you, I could use a few hours out of the saddle.”
Sir Nelstor cleared the house of his friends and neighbors who had come to help him search for his daughter. It took some time for the house to empty, as everyone wanted to hug Imojean and tell Brant how thankful they were he had been nearby when the accident happened.
Finally, the house was empty and the three of them sat down to a warm supper. After they had eaten, they spent a few hours sitting before the fireplace and talking. Nelstor wanted to hear all about the war with the seheowks, and what news there was from the palace. He and Imojean had not been able to attend the wedding, and had yet to meet the infant princess. Brant had to repeat his story of getting to hold the baby Kamarie. He regaled them a bit with stories of his life on the road. Sir Nelstor was very interested to hear the news from the different towns Brant had been to, and Brant was interested in anything Imojean had to say. Finally, Brant announced that he should be moving on.
Second Son (The Minstrel's Song Book 2) Page 43
