Brom scanned the campsite, but the night was too dark, the moon hidden behind thick clouds and the fire was nothing but ashes. Ilunpetan argia, Brom whispered the command to Raiken. All at once, where the darkest shadows loomed, Brom could see as if it were in the middle of the day. Brom averted his gaze from the brilliant light of the coals that were still red. Ilunpetan argia, the command for Dark Vision, allowed the Veillen to see clearly in the dark.
Scanning the campsite again, Brom cursed under his breath. Sterling was gone. Brom silently stood and scanned the ground and quickly found her tracks which led to where Conal lay sleeping. She’s taken his bow, Brom noted.
He followed the tracks out of the camp and to the north. What are you planning girl? Brom had a sinking suspicion and hurried his steps in the event he was correct.
Her tracks were easy to follow, she made no effort to conceal them. At one point she must have tripped and dropped the bow and quiver for a few of the arrows lay scattered across the ground.
He was almost to the border between Kai’Vari and Duenin when he heard the voice. He slowed his pace and listened for a moment.
“You could have avoided all this if you’d only told me what I wanted to know.” It was Engram’s voice.
“Go rot in Abaddon!” Sterling’s voice returned. Brom could hear the anger mixed with tears as she shouted the curse.
“Come now, is that any way for a lady to speak?”
As Brom stepped out of the forest, the clouds covering the moon were pushed away by a wind that swept across the wide-open plains of Duenin. He released Raiken with a quick Klute’rean, so he would not be blinded by the moon’s rays.
Sterling stood just north of the tree line, but still on the Kai’Varian side of the border. She’d donned the white shirt again and stood with her feet apart and with Conal’s bow pulled taut, an arrow nocked in the bow string. He was amazed she was able to draw the bow. Conal’s bow had one of the heavier draws since he would often join on hunts for graekull.
“You’re a monster!” she yelled back. The bow wavered, and she quickly regained her control.
“The true monsters are those Kai’Varians,” Engram’s words were smooth, and slithered off his tongue. “They practice witchcraft among other atrocities.”
She growled and released the arrow, but it wobbled in the air and landed harmlessly at Engram’s feet. She scrambled to pull another arrow from the quiver. She fumbled and dropped one while trying to pull another. Engram suddenly started running toward her.
Brom reacted instantly and was at full run as well. Sterling let out a shocked squeak as he stepped in front of her just as Engram reached her. Brom grabbed the other man’s arm and easily tossed him to the ground, “You were told never to step foot on Kai’Varian soil again,” Brom threatened the man as he pulled Tryg from its sheath.
Engram quickly stood and backed away until he was on Dueninian soil again. He glared at Brom, “Even if we lose her, there are still other Devians that will tell me what I want to know.”
“You bastard!” Sterling yelled, stepping around Brom and aiming another arrow at Engram’s back. When it fell short she nocked another and released it, only to have it wobble and fall at her feet. “You bastard.” She struggled to get the words past the tears of frustration as she collapsed in the dirt, her shoulder’s shaking.
When Brom stooped to comfort her, she pushed his hand away, stood and nocked the last arrow in the quiver. She took a deep breath, drew the bow as far back as she could, and steadily aimed down the shaft of the arrow. She exhaled as she released the arrow and it flew straight and true at the retreating Engram’s back. Had it not been for one of his men warning him, the arrow would have pierced the back of his head. Instead Engram spun and dodged the arrow just as it razed past his face leaving a long think cut on his cheekbone. The guard let out a scream of pain as the arrow lodged in his shoulder.
As Engram approached his man, he unsheathed his sword and in a fit of rage killed the man with a piercing strike to his heart. Engram glanced over his shoulder one last time as he wiped the soldier’s blood from his blade and replaced it in its scabbard. He continued over the ridge and disappeared at the same time clouds again covered the moon.
Brom was watching Engram when he heard the bow crash to the ground. He turned just in time to catch Sterling as her body crumpled. Brom picked up the bow, and lifted Sterling into his arms and started back to camp. Whether he liked it or not he was stuck with this little Devian until he could get her to his sister at the Pan’Dale Hold.
18
Pan’Dale
Dan’Idou, 7th Turcia, 1021
“Do you think she’s really a Rin’Ovana?” Gavin’s question still lingered in Brom’s mind. It was the last thing Gavin had said before he and Conal had left for Pan’Dale Keep. He’d sent them on ahead once the morning sun crested the horizon.
Brom had instructed Gavin to keep the information to himself for the time being. At least until they could confirm her claims. Brom examined the girl who still lay asleep. She had turned on her side and was curled up like a baby. Her hands were folded together under her left cheek and the blanket, sometime during the night, had been thrown to the side. The Severon uniform swallowed her tiny frame and made her look more like a child than she already was.
Once Brom had led Sterling back to camp from her failed attempt to kill Engram, Conal had bemoaned the fact she had lost all his arrows. His complaining was only halfhearted when Brom explained what had happened. Conal had been amazed that she could draw his bow even a tiny bit, let alone shoot an arrow with precision.
Brom was still amazed at the level of exhaustion the girl had reached, but he understood. He had seen it a few times in soldiers who had been held prisoner, and who had survived horrific torture.
She’s strong, Brom thought nudging her shoulder. The sun was above the trees and he needed to get her and himself to Pan’Dale. “Sterling,” he said, softly touching her shoulder. “Sterling,” he repeated.
She moaned in protest of being woken and rolled to her other side, her back to Brom. Brom’s mood took a turn in the wrong direction. Did she just turn her back on me?
Brom stood, took a deep breath. “Wake up!”
Sterling jolted into a sitting position at his bellowed words. She glanced around, wiping the sleep from her eyes. She looked up at Brom who was standing over her, his arms crossed in front of his chest. “You’re too loud,” she said with a scratchy voice before collapsing back onto the bedroll, pulling the blanket up and over her head.
Brom could feel his anger building. Fever or no, wounds or no, he would not be ignored by the likes of this… child. “It’s time to get up,” Brom said as he bent and pulled the bedroll out from under Sterling. She rolled a good three feet, the blanket twisting around her legs causing her to trip when she tried to stand.
She stared at him for a long moment. Brom wasn’t sure if she was sizing him up or just unsure of what to say or do. He couldn’t help himself from staring at the silver eyes that were framed by dark lashes. She cleared her throat when it was obvious his gaze had lingered longer than it should have.
Brom turned and busied himself with saddling Tor and replacing his bedroll on the back of the saddle. She stood there watching him the whole while, with her arms folded across her stomach.
“I…,” she started but her voice cracked. She cleared her throat, “I want to thank you for saving me from the Severon.”
Brom paused and looked over his shoulder, “Anytime the opportunity comes to kill a few redshirts,” he mumbled and returned to his task. “We’ve a day’s ride to the Pan’Dale hold,” Brom explained, pulling a bit of bread and jerky from his saddlebags, “so we’ve not time for a proper breakfast.”
When he handed her the food her eyes lit up like a child on Unity Day.
“Thank you,” Sterling said, her mouth full of bread.
“Here,” Brom threw the waterskin at her and she nearly drank the entire bladder full of wat
er. He imagined she could eat and drink more from the look of her. He’d noticed the night before that her ribs were showing.
Brom mounted Tor and offered her a hand, “Pan’Dale is just a day’s ride from here. My sister is a healer and will be able to help with those burns.”
Tor turned his massive black head to see who dared to ride him besides Brom. Sterling was nimble, and putting her foot on Brom’s, she climbed up on Tor’s back sliding in behind him. She’s not afraid of horses, he was thankful for that small favor. Tor was, after all, an intimidating war horse that most avoided.
Brom guided Tor through the Sandori, west toward the Pan’Dale Keep. It was slow going at first, this portion of the forest still untamed. It was a tangle of overgrown brush and vines that threatened to ensnare weary travelers. This portion of the Sandori was also home to the shadow bear. A gigantic bear that could easily take down a horse Tor’s size. It would be unwise to let his guard down. It was not only the bears that wandered this forest. Graekull could appear at any time from an abandoned well or a deep ravine that had tunnels leading from Abaddon. Brom’s Manuk horn was always at his side in case a graekull did appear.
“You should hold on to me,” Brom said when Tor hopped over a fallen tree. He thought Sterling would fall off, but she stayed seated.
“I’m alright,” she said, her words muffled against his back. She was a very still person, she made no unnecessary movements and kept the space she took up very small, “Say,” her voice almost a whisper, “why don’t you wear a shirt?”
Brom was taken by surprise at first but laughed at the question. “We Veillen display our tanak, these markings. It would be rude to hide our victories.”
“You’re a Veillen?” her voice rose with the question.
“Aye,” Brom answered. He expected her to say more, but she fell silent as they continued through the Sandori.
Brom was thankful the morning’s chill had faded away by the time the sun had reached its midday zenith. It had been arduous navigating the dense Sandori with Sterling at his back, but they finally reached the Arevelyan Road. Once a magnificent example of Kai’Varian engineering, the long ancient road stretched from the banks of the Furiosa River in the west to the eastern shores of Kai’Vari. On its way it ran through the heart of the capital, Sela’Char. All that was left of the road were a smattering of ruins from the long war with Duenin, when Kell Wrenkin thought to invade Kai’Vari.
Brom’s thoughts were on their neighbors to the north when Sterling tapped him on the shoulder, “Can we take a break?”
Brom reined in Tor and offered his arm to Sterling. She dismounted with an experienced deftness. She bent and stretched her legs, then wandered off behind one of the bareq trees. She returned after only a few minutes and was walking toward Brom when the sound of a wagon came rumbling down the road. It was Berk Pan’Dale, a local farmer who seemed to have a perpetual smile on his weathered face.
Brom watched Sterling as her eyes widened and she hurried back to his side. She quickly vaulted off his foot to land behind him.
“Brom, what has you out here?” Berk pulled the wagon to a halt alongside Tor.
Brom glanced over his shoulder, “Found this one running from the Severon.”
Berk looked at Sterling, who stared back at him, “Wowee, a Devian, would you look at that.” Berk whistled his amazement. “I haven’t seen one of your kind in many a year. You nothin’ but skin and bones girl,” Berk laughed, “I have chickens with more meat on their bones than you do.”
Brom chuckled, “I’m sure once Moira gets her hands on her she’ll be fatter than one of your pigs.”
Berk laughed, his sparsely-toothed smile etched deep laugh lines in his weathered and tanned skin, “Isn’t that the truth.” Berk slapped the reins against the horse’s back and rode alongside Tor. “You got some new nors this time around?” Berk asked without taking his eyes off the road.
“Aye, three this time. Gavin, you know and Gregor should be arriving with the other two, Tibal Ar’Bethnot and Oramek Fal’Barbner.”
“Ar’Bethnot, you’ll have a time with him,” Berk laughed, “The whole lot of them think they’re better than everyone else. And a Fal’Barbner, that’s a hard working Tohm. He’ll be an asset to you Veillen.”
Brom agreed with Berk’s opinion. He did not look forward to training a snobbish Ar’Bethnot and Gavin, he feared, would be too naïve to make it in the ranks of the Veillen. The Fal’Barbner on the other hand… He was optimistic about Oramek. As a Fal’Barbner himself, Conal knew the boy and had nothing but praise for the lad.
Now that they were on the main thoroughfare Brom wanted to increase their speed. As it was, the sun would be setting by the time they reached Pan’Dale. “Come sit in front of me.” Tor came to a stop at a mere squeeze of Brom’s thighs. “Come along,” he urged Sterling.
“I don’t want to,” she said, her voice like a petulant toddler. “I’m fine back here.”
Berk laughed, slapping his knee, “You got a spitfire in that one.” Berk cracked the reins again and waved goodbye to Brom and Sterling. As much as he liked Berk, the man’s toothless laughter raked his skin.
Brom heaved a sigh. “I do not,” he said as he turned in the saddle and forcefully lifted Sterling and dropped her in his lap, “have time for your tantrums.”
Sterling was shocked when she was suddenly sitting in front of Brom. She purposefully elbowed him in the side as she situated herself more comfortably.
“Don’t test me girl,” Brom urged Tor into a gallop and they quickly passed Berk as he ambled down the road. Brom could still hear Berk’s laughter as they continued toward Pan’Dale.
Being near this man does not make my skin crawl, Sterling thought, and realized she was thankful for some small favors. On her escape from Sionaad, whenever she encountered men along the way her skin would crawl and itch if they got too close to her. The thought of having someone touch her made her want to vomit.
It was late afternoon when the walls of Pan’Dale and Menarik village rose to greet them. As they rode through the streets, Sterling could see that the village was winding down as evening approached. Many of the villagers were in their homes, but those that still wandered the streets greeted Brom as he neared the Keep.
The road leading toward the Keep was narrow and dropped off steeply on either side. It was the only path that led from the village to the Keep. It was a strategic design put in place hundreds of years ago that had managed to protect the Pan’Dale stronghold from invaders.
“This is Pan’Dale, and the village is Menarik,” Brom explained as they continued up the road. “My sister lives here with her husband the Arl, Orrven Pan’Dale. My sister is a healer and will tend to your wounds.”
Pan’Dale, the name, was synonymous with power. Orrven was now the Arl of the Pan’Dale family which had defended the border for nearly five hundred years. Orrven led the Vesperrin whose warriors were tasked with protecting the border between Kai’Vari and Duenin. Brom had great respect for his brother-in-law. He was one of the few people that could hold his own in a hand-to-hand fight with a Veillen.
The sun’s rays cast a dark shadow across the courtyard where they crossed the lowered drawbridge and moved into the stable yard. The stables were abutted against the thick wall that encircled Pan’Dale Keep. Tor, a seasoned warhorse, shook his head knowing he would soon be able to rest. Brom shifted his weight back and Tor came to a stop in front of the stables. They were greeted by Otto, the stable master, “Well, look what the cat caught.”
“Otto,” Brom said in way of greeting. He dismounted then helped Sterling down from Tor’s back. Her demeanor had changed drastically since they crossed the bridge. She seemed timid and almost afraid.
“Where’d you find the urchin?” Otto asked, staring at Sterling who had somehow maneuvered herself so that Brom stood between her and Otto.
Otto was nearing his sixties but had the strength and stamina of men half his age. Brom could understand Sterling’s t
imidity toward the man, but he really was harmless. “This is Sterling, she escaped the Severon.” Brom was hesitant to mention her Tohm name just yet.
“Well stop your hidin’ and let me get a look at ya,” Otto said as he tried to peer around Brom, but Sterling evaded Otto’s gaze and circled around Brom to keep Otto on the other side.
“What are you hiding from?” Brom grew irritated by Sterling’s behavior and solved the problem by stepping out of the way. Left standing alone Sterling looked helpless in the oversized uniform, with her hair hanging in matted tangles. She kept her gaze down, hiding her eyes from Otto’s inspection.
“Bastards, the lot of them,” Otto spat on the ground when he took in Sterling’s condition. “Did you kill ‘em?”
“We left a few of them alive.” Brom responded, leaving Sterling to untie the pack from the back of the saddle.
Otto joined him and nudged him in the shoulder then whispered, “Be careful of that one Brom. She’s got the look of someone who has been fighting to survive for a very long time.” Brom knew what he meant and had already witnessed her ability to protect herself. If in a desperate situation, she would not hesitate to fight to survive even if it meant harming someone who had been kind to her. Even someone who had saved her life, he thought.
“Where is my sister?” Brom asked, turning toward the Keep.
“She should be preparing for the evenin’ meal,” Otto answered.
“Come on,” Brom motioned for Sterling to follow him, but when she remained in place he stopped and looked back at her. The look on her face was one of fear and uncertainty. He could understand her doubt, “There is nothing to fear.”
She looked at him for a long moment before taking a step out of the stables. Brom turned and started toward the Keep. She followed him at a distance, but as they got closer to the main building the number of Pan’Dale warriors increased. He couldn’t help but notice that she clung to his back like a cloak, her hand wrapped around Tryg’s scabbard.
The Elemental Union: Book One Devian Page 13
