The Druids' Legacy

by Trenna McMullin

  “We care about him too you know,” Joran interjected.

  “But we also care about you…” Calistra added.

  “You barely know me,” Ky’ara said caustically, “I’m just another pawn for you to use for your own goals. That’s all I ever am,” her voice dropped to a whisper, her hurt and despair overcoming her frustration and anger. “It’s all I was to my uncle in Coledria, and I’m starting to think it’s all I was to A’kiina as well.”

  “Your uncle loved you.”

  Ky’ara snorted. “You don’t even know what you’re talking about.”

  Calistra sighed, looking a little guilty. "I’ve been meaning to tell you something, Ky'ara...I knew your uncle."

  "What?" Ky'ara and Joran both looked at her in surprise. Ky’ara felt her resolve breaking, this was obviously just a distraction, but she couldn’t quite bring herself to ignore Calistra’s words.

  "A'kiina was sent to spy on him initially, but eventually she convinced him to help us."

  "My uncle, Cortien Si Lafeno, was a member of the organization?" Ky'ara's disbelief was evident in her voice.

  "Not a member, per se, just...he discovered A'kiina was reporting to us, and instead of turning her in, he agreed to stay out of our way. In exchange, we gave him information on the outer provinces. I'd hoped to persuade him to actually help us, eventually."

  Ky'ara snorted. "You wouldn't have succeeded. It was all just a political maneuver, for him. I always wondered how he always seemed to anticipate events and turn them to his advantage...He was just using you as his own personal spy network. Apparently he wasn't content to just be Overseer, he had his eye on the crown!"

  Calistra shook her head, then paused, considering. "Well, maybe. But he also did it for you, Ky'ara. He found out our relation to you—he'd looked into Mier's background rather thoroughly after your parents died. He knew she was your mother's cousin and he wanted to ensure that no one from that side of the family was going to come claim you once you reached a position of power."

  "Probably because he couldn't risk everyone being reminded that his brother married a commoner. That could've lost him the election," Ky'ara muttered, the bitterness she'd lived with her whole life had resurfaced in the wake of all the other ugly emotions she’d felt lately.

  "Perhaps. But he made sure to bury that information and tried to keep you as far away from the organization as possible. He wanted to protect you."

  "Protect me?" Ky'ara snorted. "He wanted to control me! If what you say is true, he kept everything from me! Joran told me he knew about the Destroyer and he did nothing to stop it from hurting people! People he was sworn to protect!”

  "Ky'ara..."

  "No, Calistra, you may have had dealings with him, but I knew him. He was manipulative and self-centered, and he tried my whole life to force me into being something he wouldn't be ashamed of! And then he went and died and left me to pick up the pieces!"

  "He wanted to keep you safe, you silly girl! His brother was killed for not toeing the line and he wanted to keep you as far from ridicule as possible so the same thing didn't happen to you! He wasn't what I'd call a good man, but he did what he could to ensure that you had a shot at being happy in a court where no one wanted to accept you."

  Ky'ara sat down and closed her mouth. Her emotions felt tangled up and raw. She thought of all the stern lectures, all the derisive comments, the attempts to stop her from studying swordsmanship with A'kiina...had he really done all of it with an eye towards helping her?

  Calistra rested a hand on her shoulder as she turned to go. "I didn't mean to make you feel like...like you were a clueless adolescent. I just thought you should know he did care about you."

  Ky'ara closed her eyes, envisioning her uncle as she'd last seen him—almost two years ago, the night before he'd died. Her eyes snapped open as she came to a realization.

  "He knew..."

  "What?" Calistra paused on her way out, and looked back.

  "He was agitated the night before the assassinations. He came to me and lectured me about being on time, what to wear, all that. More agitated than he had any reason to be...unless he knew."

  "You think he knew they were going to be killed? Why tell you to be on time then? You only survived because you were late."

  Ky'ara shook her head. "I don't think he knew what would happen. But something spooked him. He was trying to make sure I didn't attract any attention. He must've known something was going to happen at or because of that meeting."

  Calistra nodded, either accepting the explanation or simply not wanting to dispute it since it supported her argument.

  "I think that means we need to reevaluate things,” Ky’ara said, “Why would he suddenly be anxious, but not tell A'kiina? Either he..."

  "What if he did tell her?" Calistra interrupted.

  "Wouldn't she have told you?"

  Calistra shook her head. "We only corresponded at set intervals in pre-determined locations within the city. She may have tried contacting me, but unless I was in position she wouldn't have been able to and I wouldn't have known she even tried."

  Ky'ara mulled this over for a moment. "She had the crystal with her..." she murmured, fingering the self-same pendant around her neck.

  "She always carried it with her. That's not significant," Calistra said.

  "But Ekzhad could sense the crystal. I assume the Destroyer can too. Even if it's just a sort of vague sense that it's around, wouldn't that have given her away eventually? How did she manage to keep it hidden for so long?"

  Calistra sighed. "A'kiina only had the crystal for a few months. When she went on assignment to the capital, we agreed she would leave it with Sukylar. But then later she said she needed it. She wouldn't say why, but I assume it was because she recognized that you were the next bearer. Though why it took her so long to figure that out, I don’t know.”

  “When was that?” Ky’ara asked, wondering why she hadn’t had this discussion with Calistra a year ago. Of course, with her penchant for keeping secrets, Calistra probably wouldn’t have told her even if she’d thought to ask.

  “About five months before the assassinations. Of course, it took about six weeks before he could get it to her. So she had it for a little over three months before giving it to you.”

  “Right after I won the election that no one thought I could win,” Ky’ara murmured.

  Calistra tilted her head to the side. "Until then she must've thought you would be beneficial to the organization, but didn't really understand your potential. Then you accomplished something you shouldn't have been able to, something big. She recognized that as an attribute of a daughter of light...a crystal bearer. But she needed the crystal to know for sure."

  Ky'ara furrowed her brow. "Why wait though? If the council hadn't been attacked that day, would she have waited even longer to give it to me? Or was she having second thoughts?"

  Calistra shrugged. "We will probably never know the answers to those questions. Until Joran ran into you and determined that you had the crystal, I thought you were just a spoiled rich kid Aunt Mier had to take care of. Your relation to Cor'tien and A'kiina's attention to you made you a person of interest, but much less so than your uncle himself. I imagine A'kiina would have mentioned her decision to give you the crystal during our next meeting, but I don't know how we would've taken that news...the Council of Elders has not been very happy with the Gighu family's handling of the crystal...but then, they're a bunch of controlling busybodies."

  Ky’ara raised an eyebrow pointedly.

  "Don't look at me like that," Calistra protested, "I'm not nearly as bad as all that. I don't object to things just on principle, I'm just trying to save the world here you know."

  "I thought that was my job,” Ky'ara said dryly, feeling a little foolish for all the things she’d said earlier.

  "Well, maybe, but I can at least ensure you have the help you need to do it properly." The lighthearted tone faded from Calistra's voice and Ky'ara could tell she meant
it wholeheartedly.

  "Thank you."

  “So...you’re not going to leave?” Joran asked.

  Ky’ara hesitated, her desperate need to leave having dissipated with this new discovery. “I’ve got a lot more to consider now...I’ll wait until we have a plan.”

  Calistra nodded once, briskly, and finally left the tent, pulling Joran with her. Ky'ara looked after them for a moment, then sat on the cot and pulled out the green and blue books. If she was going to defeat the Destroyer and save Taren, she had some work to do.

  Chapter 12: Searching for Answers

  Jace had been following the soldiers for almost two days now. He'd been careful to stay far enough back that even if they did detect him, they hopefully wouldn't assume he was following them. After all, his cover story gave him a good reason to be heading to the capital, and he assumed that's where they were heading as well. He had to make a decision soon though...they would reach the capital before nightfall, and once the soldiers were back inside the city walls, it would be near impossible for him to follow them into wherever they were taking the prisoner without being noticed. If he stuck to his original cover story, he'd probably be assigned another unit and be redeployed and never have anything to do with these soldiers or the prisoner.

  That's what he should do—it's what he was supposed to do, both by army standards and for the assignment the rebel leader had given him...but something about the prisoner drew him. He couldn't just abandon the man to whatever fate the soldiers had in store for him. Staging a rescue was out of the question as well—they'd never get away quickly enough, especially with reinforcements so close. The king could have hundreds of soldiers scouring this forest before they could even get a league away. So he would have to be content with gathering information until he had something useful to send back to the rebels. Which meant he had to somehow integrate himself into this group of soldiers before they got to the city.

  It was risky, far more dangerous than his original plan. If the soldiers were overly cautious they might just shoot him on sight. Even if they heard him out, they might sense something fishy about his story and tie him up or execute him for deserting. There were a lot of ways this could end with his death or imprisonment. He ran his fingers through his hair nervously, almost deciding against it again...but then he took a deep breath and plunged into the clearing.

  "There you lot are! I swear, I've spent days looking for you only to find that you're miles east of where they said to meet you, and closer to the capital than I was!" He strode right up to the sentry, gesticulating wildly and trying to sound as frustrated as he could.

  "Halt! Put your hands where I can see them and stop babbling," the sentry said, raising a crossbow and leveling it at Jace's chest.

  "My hands are right here, soldier. I'm clearly unarmed—wish I wasn’t, then I wouldn't have had to spend all night in a tree after getting chased by that wild boar. Could've just skewered the bastard and been done with it."

  He really was babbling now, saying anything and everything that came to mind, formulating a story that would explain the shoddy state of his clothing and give him a reason to be looking for them. If he threw in a lot of details maybe it would distract them from questioning where he'd come from. He'd noticed soldiers tended to exaggerate the amount of trouble they'd gone to for something, or the degree of danger they'd escaped from. These men would assume he had run scared from something like a skunk and was making up the rest to cover his own cowardice. The most basic part of the story—that he'd been sent out from the capital to meet them—would seem so simple in comparison that they'd accept it without question. At least, he hoped they would.

  "Stay where you are. You know procedure: nobody enters camp without the leave of the captain. We weren't expecting a messenger...this mission was supposed to be secret. CAPTAIN!" He roared the last word loud enough to startle a few of the birds from the trees. Jace winced visibly, rubbing his ears.

  "If it's so secret, maybe we oughta keep our voices down a bit...don't wanna attract the attention of some farm maid out scavenging for mushrooms or berries, do we?"

  The soldier scowled at him, but seemed to recognize the truth in his words and kept his voice lower when the captain came to see what was going on.

  "This 'un here claims he was sent to meet us."

  "We weren't to meet anyone until after returning to Coledria," the captain said, suspicion clouding his voice.

  "Aye, but seeing as they wanted to keep this all as secret as possible, I was sent to guide ya into the capital without passing through a public gate. Less people as sees ya the less people there are to ask questions later." Jace said, trying to sound a touch exasperated. He certainly wouldn't gain this man's friendship, but he'd noticed that condescending people tended to keep the focus off of themselves by making others feel insecure. And if he didn't seem to be trying to ingratiate himself with the captain, the captain was less likely to think he was trying to weasel his way in somehow. He hoped.

  "Call number and reporting officer," the captain demanded. Jace rattled them off—no use using a fake number. And if they found out his company had been missing since being deployed to Kaltor, he could just use his cover story but say he'd been reassigned as a messenger for the time being. "And why do you look and smell like you spent a month in the woods if you just came from the capital?"

  "E spent the night ina tree," the sentry volunteered, before Jace could even open his mouth to answer. "Says 'e was chased up thur by a giant wild boar." The skepticism in his voice was evident.

  The captain raised an eyebrow. "Are you going to stick with that story?"

  Jace flinched under the haughty gaze. "I wasn't s'posed to spend the night out here at all! But you lot must've come out in a different place then they told me, 'cuz I had to spend two days looking for ye' and got chased up a tree last night and didn't get a wink a’ sleep."

  This seemed to be good enough for the captain, who barked some orders to the others to fall back in line and prepare to move out. He turned back to Jace. "All right then, guide us in. I assume our meeting place at the palace hasn't changed as well?"

  "No sir, same place. They just figured you could use some help getting in the wall without creating a fuss with the locals," Jace said with confidence, marveling to himself that he had gotten through that conversation without being skewered. He headed to the front of the column, passing the cart with little more than a momentary glance toward it. He didn't want to seem too curious, but if he ignored it altogether that would seem strange as well.

  The soldiers followed him over the rough terrain, making their way slowly out of the trees and toward the wall that encircled the city. Jace knew just where to take them too...there was a sewer tunnel with a loose grate he and Luc had used on occasion to avoid tariffs on their farm goods...not too often, since he'd have been under suspicion if the guards saw him in the market without ever having seen him at the gate, but often enough to collect a tidy bit of extra profit to squirrel away for a rainy day. He knew from experience that a small pony and cart could just squeeze through the opening, if they weren't too skittish. He prayed silently to the heavens that it hadn't been fixed in the last few months.

  * * * * *

  Taren regained consciousness long enough to recognize that the man who'd been trailing them for the last two days had somehow joined their company and was now leading them through a narrow sewer tunnel. The cart splashed unevenly through a few inches of foul smelling water as the men struggled to lead the pony—who clearly didn't like the smell any more than he did—through to the other side.

  The last few days were foggy, at best. Whether from frequently hitting his head against his knees and the side of the cart, or from something they were putting in his food and drink, he didn't know. He felt weak, and had little memory of their journey except moments here and there...they had stopped at irregular intervals to rest and each time had given him just a few sips of water and some hard crackers to chew. He couldn't even bring him
self to try denying the food...there was little point. He knew where they were going, knew there was no way to escape before they reached there, and if the food was drugged...well, it kept him alive, didn't it?

  As long as you are alive, there is a chance of escape.

  A little piece of his training came back to him...this was a point that was hotly contested among the masters. A dead captive could tell no secrets, but a dead Keeper also could not rescue or protect his Druid. Some Keepers had been trained to find a way to kill themselves as soon as they had determined that escape was an impossibility. His master had been more optimistic. A Keeper who survived capture could likely bring valuable information back with him. He could rescue his Druid if she had also been captured. Even at the height of their rule, the druids had been small in number. Every single one was important, and that meant their Keeper’s priority was to keep them alive—keeping secrets from their enemies was a lesser goal.

  As long as you are alive there is a chance of escape....He just had to keep himself alive long enough to discover why they wanted him there. Then, maybe, he could find a way to escape and hide himself in the city. Hiding in the forest would have been impossible, with hundreds of soldiers to look for him and too many miles to cross before getting to safety...but in the city, there were too many people for soldiers to find one man among them. If he escaped here, he could bury himself in the general population and find a way to get word to the rebels. It was a slim chance, but it gave him hope.

  * * * * *

  Amischel apprehensively watched the group of villagers that stood in the clearing. Calistra had tasked her with recruiting and training a contingent of bowmen, but she had no experience teaching people and she wasn't even sure where to start. The people milled around impatiently, the sound level growing louder as they grew bored with waiting for instructions and started to chat with their neighbors. How was she supposed to get these people to listen to her?