by Toni Cox
“I am sorry, My Lady. I have never considered how hard this must be for you. Everyone expects so much of you. How do you do it?”
“It is in my nature to care for my people, I cannot help it. Healing, whether it be wound, or nation, is what I was born to do. There is no need to feel sorry for me, Rothea. I have friends like you that keep me strong in times of my own need and that is what always gets me through. But let us not dwell on this subject. I think we might be close to Crook Harbour by now and even this little lady,” Maia said, patting the horse on the neck, “has settled down. Let us join the others by the prow to see if the harbour is in sight yet.”
Blaid had run all night, not caring where he went. His paws were sore. Now the sun was rising, casting light over the little hollow where he had finally lain down to rest. As he sat up and looked around, he noticed that he was in a small stand of trees not far from the twin peaks that were some of the most northern outreaches of the Grildor-Bron Mountains. The Trade Route skirted them on their southern side, but he was further north, so in little danger of encountering many people.
He was thirsty. And still so tired. It all seemed useless now; his hunting the Vampyres and trying to assist the people of Grildor; all in the vain hope the people might accept him. The thought that he might reunite with Maia after all the danger had passed was what had kept him going all these Moons. Now though, with her attentions on another man, he had nothing further to hope for. He might as well give up, return to his wandering, maybe even travel south, cross the equator. He had never been there. It would be warm there, all year round, and the thought was tempting. He might even run into more Vampyres while he was on his way; he would be able to let his frustrations out on them, rip them to shreds and kill as many as he could before leaving Grildor for ever.
But then another thought struck him. Maybe that was not his only option. Quickly he changed into his own body; being the wolf sometimes interfered with his thinking. It was still early and the morning cold. He shivered. If he were to be himself, then he would have to find clothes. For now, though, he stepped out onto the plain naked, grateful for the weak morning rays that warmed his body.
He was a Prime and he had the power to change the world. Maybe he had been going about this all wrong. Maybe his role in this was not to hunt the Vampyres; there could be other ways. Of one thing, though, he was certain; Maia belonged with him. He would not give up on her that easily. Yet he would have to hurry; if he waited too long, he might lose her forever.
Determined, he strode out across the plain, heading towards the river that would ultimately lead him to Nithril Deep.
Bringing the clipper into the harbour was exciting. Although fairly sheltered from the larger swells of the lake, the waters within the harbour were choppy and there was a crosswind, playing havoc with their navigation. But their skipper was competent and it was not long before they moored the ship against the pier. The gangplank lowered and Maia led the frightened horses across the unsteady contraption. Once offloaded, though, the horses settled down quickly. Much to Maia’s, and Fire’s, delight, Crook Harbour’s chief Horse Master, Evert Bluecrow, greeted them in person and took them to a large, grassy paddock, where the horses were free to graze. No stable for them tonight.
Lord Silverman and a few Elders then greeted them formally and their possessions were taken to their accommodations. Maia had never been to Crook Harbour and she looked around with interest. She expected the houses to be built in a similar style as those of Braérn, but to her surprise homes here were built out of wood. Although not quite as elaborate as the tree houses of Shadow Hall, the log homes nonetheless appeared inviting. Most of them had steeply angled roofs, sprouting a carved design along the front fasciae. The area around the harbour and the city itself was fairly flat, but behind the terrain rose to a small mountain range that shone a deep orange in the midday sun. Maia was told it was a type of heather that grew on those slopes that gave it that colour.
During the afternoon, they were shown around the quaint little city and the evening was spent in the company of Lord Silverman and his family, as well the Elders that greeted them when they arrived. The meeting in the Elder Hall was scheduled for tomorrow, the feast and the memorial on the following days. Maia was by now comfortable with the attention she received from everyone during the feast and did not mind speaking at the memorial; she knew her role in this was to strengthen her people, for the strength of the nation rested with them.
The meetings concerned her; it seemed that the more meetings she attended, the more terrible the news became. She had not wanted to frighten Rothea during their conversation on the sailing vessel, but she was afraid. They had won the war and their main worry had been the remaining Vampyres within Grildor. Although uncertain of their exact number, they assumed there to be a few hundred at most. More and more reports of attacks were coming in and it seemed their number was not only larger, and getting larger, if Lord Swiftfisher was right, but they were also more widespread than assumed.
It did, indeed, seem to Maia these were not random attacks by stranded Vampyres needing to eat, but rather a planned strategy, working towards a goal Maia did not like to contemplate. She thought about what Rothea said about the Vampyre’s wanting their planet. It was plausible and, with everything that had developed over the past few Quarters, a distinct possibility. Maia did not know the situation on Naylera; trade with that planet had stopped almost a millennium ago. If it were indeed so bad that the Vampyres could not live there anymore, then the Elven race of Elveron would soon be fighting for their lives.
She now longed to go home; she wanted to discuss these matters with her father and Jaik, as well as with Silas. Her father, although no longer part of the Regiment or Guard, was nonetheless the best Commander Grildor had ever seen. Before he took over as Lord Regent from his father, Jagaer had been first Commander of the first Regiment and then, later, Commander of the Guard. Her father had seen two wars already; one in Grildor, centuries ago, and one in another country far to the south. She knew, once her father had all the information, he would know what to do.
Lord Swiftfisher had said that he had already sent a bird to Shadow Hall, so the information Braérn had gathered was already with her father. The letter she wrote to him after the attack on her should also be with him and she hoped he had acted on it.
Feeling as if she should do more, she rose from her chair by the fire and retrieved the box that contained her writing material. She needed to tell her father about what Rothea thought the Vampyres were planning. She also wanted to let her father know exactly how she felt about the situation; to let him know, the more she was involved, the stronger her feeling of unease became. Something terrible was going to happen.
It was already late and Rothea was asleep on the other bed in the room. One of the Regiment was posted outside her door, so once she finished writing the letter to her father, she asked the man to make sure it was delivered. Feeling somewhat calmer now that she had penned her thoughts, she finally crawled beneath her own blankets. Sleep eluded her for a long time and it was Midnight’s gentle thoughts that eventually lulled her into rest.
“It is the same wherever we go,” Maia complained as they rode across the gently rolling hills on the eastern side of the twin peaks that sheltered Crook Harbour. “Every meeting tells of more attacks, Vampyre sightings and,” she hesitated, “the black wolf. More people die every day and there is nothing I can do about it. I feel I should be doing something else besides travelling the countryside to attend memorials.”
She was frustrated. The past few days, and nights, had been tiring. The people looked up to her as their saviour, but at the same time trembled in fear of what might become of them. She was supposed to reassure them but, as time went by, she found it increasingly difficult. The Lords of the cities had only bad news for her and, to make matters worse, she was now having dreams again.
Dreams of him. Always lonely, always hunting, always angry and always in danger.
She did not know how to interpret these dreams either and agonised over it through the nights. The last time she ignored her dreams of Death, over a thousand had died in a war she was convinced she could have prevented.
“The people need you, Maia,” Riker said, and then corrected himself. “My Lady.”
Rothea, riding beside them, briefly looked at Riker before averting her eyes again.
“They draw their strength from you and it is what keeps them going. It might not seem like you are doing anything to help them, but you are. Your mere presence is healing their hurt and losses from the war and at the same time giving them the strength to carry on fighting.”
He was right; she felt it in the people’s Eläm every time she stood in front of a crowd; but it did not make her feel better. This passive assistance was not what she was meant to do; she simply did not know what the alternative was.
Feeling desperate, she reached out to Midnight.
Do you know where he is? she thought to him.
When Midnight’s answer came back negative, she was not surprised. She knew Blaid had been close on numerous occasions during their trip, yet she had been completely unaware of him. It was almost as if he hid from her; she had never met anybody who could hide his or her Eläm as well as Blaid seemed able to do.
Maybe he does not have one, she thought. He is Death, after all.
“We will be reaching the swamplands before nightfall.” Riker broke into her thoughts. “Commander Ridgewell has sent the Scouts to secure a location for us to camp. We will spend the night on this side of the swamps and cross them during daylight.”
“That seems wise,” Maia replied, not really interested in where they would sleep tonight.
She did not sleep at night anyway, so it did not matter. She knew there was a guesthouse on the other side of the swamps, Midway Lodge, and that they would stop there tomorrow eve, before arriving at Arrow on the third day.
“Do not fret, Maia,” Riker said. “Everything is being done to keep the people safe. The best we can do now is to gather as much information as we can. Soon we will be home again. Maybe talking with your father and brother will bring some peace to your heart.”
Maia shifted slightly in her saddle to look at him. How did he know her so well? They had been travelling together for a Moon and a half, but it seemed much longer than that. He had been her escort from the beginning and as events developed and became more dangerous for her, he had not left her side. Only at night did he let Rothea take over the watch.
“… like to speak with your father as well. There are matters that need to be attended to before matters can progress.”
Maia blinked; caught only the end of what he was saying. The sentence could mean a hundred things, but somehow, she knew it had to do with her. He was going to ask for the right to court her. Her heart fluttered briefly. Did she want him to speak to her father? Did she feel the same about him? Unbidden, the memory of her night with Blaid was vividly clear in her mind. Fire snorted and pranced beneath her as he felt her shiver.
Riker noticed the change in Fire’s behaviour and, surely thinking it was his statement that made Maia lose her calm, smiled at her and reached over to lay his hand on hers. She tried to control her feelings, but the thought of Blaid and the touch of Riker’s hand stirred strange feelings deep within her.
She had already broken their laws on intimacy, courtship, and the relationship between Primes when she had been with Blaid; she should be ashamed. If Riker knew, he would surely despise her. The only reason Silas had not told her father about Blaid was that he thought it had been an after effect of their magic. But she could not help the feelings within her. She wanted him so badly. She missed him so much. But she had responsibilities. Maybe it was time for her to put aside her own wants and needs and submit to their custom. Riker was a good match and she genuinely liked him.
Maybe, with time, she could be happy with him and she would forget about Blaid. Reluctantly she made the decision to try. Vaguely she felt Midnight’s approval in her head. Heartbroken, she bravely looked over into Riker’s face and smiled at him encouragingly.
They crossed the swamps without incident the next day. One could, of course, travel around them, but that journey would take an extra two to three days. The route through the swamps was well mapped and, in places, reinforced with gravel. The beauty of their surroundings was lost on Maia; she was too unmotivated to care. Riker tried many times during the day to draw her out of her sullen mood, but eventually contented himself with silently riding by her side.
Midway Lodge was a small, unassuming inn, and although the owner welcomed them personally, they were left alone for most of the evening. Maia retired early; hiding beneath her blankets even before Rothea had changed for the night.
They reached Arrow on the evening of the third day and, as Maia had expected, the people of the small city lined the streets as they rode through to the stables. There were shouts of My Lady and My Princess, but overall the crowd was eerily quiet. They were greeted by Arrow’s Commander of the Guard and taken to their Grand Hall; which was the smallest Maia had ever seen; to be met by Lord Leatherman and a host of Elders, Nobles and other folk. First, there were the formalities and general discussions. Maia endured them, but struggled to contain her yawns; somehow, the people of Arrow had managed to host the most boring meeting yet.
Then it was Lord Leatherman’s turn to speak and the tone of his voice brought Maia back to full alertness.
“Yes, Lord Leatherman, we have been made aware of the situation,” Commander Ridgewell replied. “I am sorry to hear about your losses. It is frightening that the Vampyres have managed to spread this far across our land.”
“The people are concerned as to what is being done to protect them. Crook Island does not have a fighting force such as the bigger cities. We would feel a lot safer if Lord Longshadow were to send some of his forces to protect us. I believe the Legions of Shadow Hall and Braérn to be the largest in Grildor. Surely they would be able to spare warriors.”
Lord Leatherman was not in a good mood and Maia did not like his tone of voice. She felt animosity from his Eläm; something she had not felt with any leaders. She wondered why the people of Arrow were so ill-disposed towards her father. Maia almost flinched, as Lord Leatherman turned towards her.
“My Princess,” he said, a sneer in his voice, “can I count on you to bring our urgent need to the attention of your father? Although we are pleased with your visit,” Maia doubted that very much, “it does not help our immediate need. We would appreciate it if you would attend the planned memorial with the people tomorrow, and then be on your way the next day. We do not want to delay you here, as the people of Crook Island need more than just your spiritual assistance. Please forgive me for being so direct, but we have suffered hardship of which My Lady surely knows very little about.”
Maia noticed both Rowlean and Riker shift beside her; not ever had any Lord spoken to her in such a fashion and she felt their temper rising at the man’s rudeness. She made a small sign with her hand, forestalling her escorts’ need to protect her.
“My Lord Leatherman, I understand your situation better than you may think. I am aware of your own personal loss,” she saw him flinch, “and I am sorry for the loss of your son. I am not offended by your directness; it is something we could all do more of; but I am, however, offended by your tone of voice. I suggest that you moderate your temper, treat us with the courtesy and hospitality that is due to us and then I will see what I can do for you and the safety of your city.”
She rose, gave a short bow towards the centre of the Elder Hall and, without another word, walked out of the meeting before it was finished. Commander Ridgewell and Riker hurried after her, both with smug smiles on their faces.
He had hoped he would make it to Braérn in time; he was, after all, travelling with Shard. Yet when he arrived in Braérn, they were already gone. After changing out of his black travelling cloak and into more common clothes, he
went to make inquiries and learned that she went to Crook Islands to visit the cities there. It did not matter; he could wait. They would be back in Braérn in a few days; he could use the rest. Making arrangements for his stay in Braérn, however, proved a little more challenging. Although he had a place to stay within the city, his companion did not. He was also expecting some of the others and he agonized for a while as to where to accommodate them. He eventually managed to find them a small homestead located about thirty miles from the city. The owners were reluctant to let them use it, but he dealt with that; they would not complain ever again.
Being in Braérn was difficult for him; he had to pretend to be something he was not, and the delegation was taking longer on their trip to Crook Harbour and Arrow than expected, which made him impatient. He prowled the streets at night, unable to sleep, and often stared across the sea, hoping that in the morning he would see the sails that brought them to him.
His entire body thrummed with the excitement of seeing her. He had such plans. Everything he had done over the past few Quarters and Moons had led to this point. Now that his mind was made up, he knew exactly what he wanted to do. He knew it was not going to be easy, but he knew he had the power; the magic was strong within him. Now she just needed to return to him.
“I am glad we are leaving this place,” Rothea said as they rode out of the city. “Not even our children are as insolent as the lord of this city.”
“The people of Arrow did not deal with their losses well; it is not their fault. But I agree that Lord Leatherman could do with a lesson in manners.”
“I would be more than happy to teach him,” Riker grumbled next to her.
Maia smiled at him; he had taken more offence at Lord Leatherman’s treatment of her than she had herself. His Eläm, which he no longer shielded from her, had glowed with the anger at the man who had dared to insult his princess. She found it irresistibly charming and it was distracting her a little from her decision to forget about Blaid.
