The warriors were milling about, freshly bathed and clean. His sister would never abide an unclean warrior stepping foot in the Hall for dinner. It had been a standing order since she married Orrven that no man would be served dinner if he had dirt under his nails or smelled of sweat.
Pan’Dale had a full army at its disposal. Men from all over Kai’Vari came to Pan’Dale to be part of the Vesperrin. Brom knew many of the warriors that were stationed at Pan’Dale, but despite having fought alongside them, many were still cautious of him. He was used to their whispers and side remarks, but it seemed this time the girl at his back was gaining more attention as he waded through the throng of warriors.
He could feel her trembling and wondered what had her so afraid. He paused and looked down at her. She was huddled at his back, her head lowered so no one could see her eyes. She’d managed to shrink her size down to as small as possible. When he glanced around he realized why she was acting the way she was. The warriors were huddled around like a hulking great beast and she was the tiny mouse that was its prey.
“Brom got himself a woman,” one of the warriors called out, which caused the whole group to press in closer to see the girl. She flinched when one reached out, “Let’s see the beauty that snared the great Brom Da’Gaihen.”
In a move he suspected was the sheer will to defend herself, Sterling pulled the short blade that was nestled at Brom’s back and sliced out at the men who were too close for her liking. Before she could do any damage Brom plucked the knife from her hand, sheathed the blade and let out a bellow that silenced the mob, “Move.” The men split revealing an open path for Brom. He took hold of Sterling’s hand and pulled her behind him. I don’t have time for this.
“Brom!” His sister stood at the end of the path, a smile on her face at seeing him. Her dark green dress complimented her hazel eyes and brown hair. Her cheeks were flushed with the afternoon sun as she examined each warrior at the door to make certain they were clean before she allowed them to enter her home. With a stature taller than most women, she was a warrior in her own right. She commanded the warriors of Pan’Dale just as much as her husband.
“Moira.” Brom greeted his younger sister, pulling Sterling to stand beside him.
Her eyes immediately went to Sterling, filled with curiosity. “It’s a girl,” Moira stated but stopped when she noticed the silver eyes of a Devian staring back at her, “She’s a Devian,” she added with a bit of surprise and confusion in her voice.
Brom sighed, “Your statement of the obvious is mind-boggling.” He loved his sister, but sometimes, he just… He sighed again, “This is Sterling.”
“Hello dear,” Moira started with a smile which quickly faded when the wind shifted, “Oh my, you smell like a dead rat.”
Brom quickly stepped in when Sterling opened her mouth, unsure how Sterling would respond to the comment. “Moira, Sterling is in need of you care.”
“Well why didn’t you say so?” Moira groused and motioned for them to enter.
They followed Moira while she moved up the curving staircase to the portion of the Keep reserved for the Pan’Dale family and their guests. Sterling followed close behind Brom, her hand seeming to be permanently attached to Tryg’s scabbard. She’s becoming too attached to me, Brom thought. I’ve too much to do to worry about this child.
Moira stopped in front of a door that was adjacent to the one she’d set aside for Brom’s use. Normally, when visiting other Tohms he would sleep in the barracks with the other Veillen, but Moira refused to let him sleep anywhere but in a guest room in the Keep.
“In you go my dear,” Moira opened the door and stepped aside to let Sterling enter, “I’ll be right with you.” Moira closed the door and turned to Brom. He knew what was coming and he braced himself for the avalanche of questions.
“Where’d you find her?”
“Where’d she come from?”
“She’s not diseased or anything, is she?”
“How old is she?”
Brom crossed his arms over his chest and leaned against the wall, waiting for his sister to finish.
“Sorry.” A soft blush highlighted her cheeks, “Go ahead.”
“I didn’t find her.” Brom answered her first question, “She barreled her way into a graekull I was hunting. She was fleeing Duenin and the Severon.” Brom debated telling his sister that she claimed to be a Rin’Ovana. “She escaped the Severon and they followed her across the border.”
“The Severon? They were here, on Pan’Dale land?”
“Yes.”
“Oh dear,” Moira was rubbing her hands anxiously. She knew if Orrven found out he’d be hunting them down in an instant. “What did you do?”
“I took care of them.” There was no need for him to expand his explanation.
“Oh,” The tension eased from her shoulders.
Brom brought the conversation back around to Sterling, “Aside from a worrisome fever, she has several wounds that have started to fester and a knot on her head,” he said, tapping Moira on the head where Sterling’s knot had formed.
“I’ll tend to her Brom. You go eat with the men. Besides, Orrven is anxious to see you.”
“What has him concerned?” Orrven was the epitome of a rock. He worried little because he had confidence in his army and knew that they could handle anything that was thrown at them. If Orrven was anxious it was mostly something beyond his control.
“There has been an increase recently in the number of graekull attacks.”
Just as Brom had suspected. Orrven would need to request more Veillen troops from Var’Khundi if the sightings had increased.
Brom was just about to leave when Moira stopped him, “Brom, when you see Cinri, please have him bring my kit, and some hot water.”
Brom nodded and started toward the Hall. The enticing aroma of food wafted up the stairs teasing Brom’s senses. He stopped Moira before she could open the door, “Moira,”
“Yes?”
“She claims to be a Rin’Ovana.”
“Truly?” Moira’s enthusiasm was plastered to her face.
“Aye, but promise me one thing though,” he said to his sister in a serious, hushed tone... “Keep that Rin’Ovana detail close to your heart as long as you can. The last thing we need are prying eyes wandering our way, even here. The less eyes the better in this case, yes?” Moira clamped both hands over her mouth, nodding gently. Still, her ruby cheeks stretched underneath and gave away the delightful smile still playing across her face.
19
Healer
Moira watched Brom as he descended the stairs. Once alone, she took a deep breath and steeled her nerves before turning the knob and entering the room. I can’t believe she’s a Devian was all she could think about, and a Rin’Ovana on top of that. Moira was excited.
Pushing the door open she stepped in to the room. Sterling, Moira said the name to herself, Sterling Rin’Ovana. Moira thought the name suited the girl. She advanced into the room to find Sterling just standing in the center as if she was unsure of what to do.
“Are you all right, my dear?” Moira asked, approaching Sterling.
“I’m afraid to touch anything.” Sterling said, her cheeks flushed. Moira expected her flushed cheeks were more from a fever than from embarrassment.
“Never you mind,” Moira said as she rummaged around in the wardrobe for a nightshirt to replace the filthy clothes Sterling was wearing. “Whatever gets dirty can be washed,” Moira continued with her head in the armoire. Here it is! Moira thought excitedly.
Moira pulled a long nightshirt out of the drawer and turned to Sterling who continued to stand in the center of the room, unmoving.
“Milady,” Cinri’s voice was followed by a small knock on the door, “I have your kit.”
“Oh, splendid.” Moira hurried to the door and took the box from Cinri. “Thank you Cinri.”
“I shall be right outside, if you need to call for me.”
Moira was sure it was Brom’
s instructions to Cinri to remain close. Her brother was ever the warrior and always cautious.
“All right, come here my dear, let’s take a look at you.”
Sterling hesitated for a moment. This was the first time in a very long time that anyone had been kind to her. She felt a relief wash over her and all she could do was follow Moira’s instructions. She felt detached from her own body as Moira pulled the cotton uniform shirt over her head.
Sterling thought she heard Moira gasp when she noticed the network of scars that were scored into Sterling’s chest, back and sides. The marks that Helios had burnt into her skin throbbed with a dull pain. I’ll forever be reminded of my time spent in Sionaad, Sterling thought.
“Come sit,” Moira pulled the padded stool from the vanity and instructed Sterling to sit. She examined each of Sterling’s arms before reaching into a medium sized box that seemed to contain all manner of vials and bits of gauze. “We need to clean these wounds before they become any more infected than they already are.”
Sterling sat patiently while Moira took out a small piece of cloth and soaked it in a strong-smelling liquid. Sterling was unprepared for the pain she would endure when Moira pressed the cloth to the open scrapes and cuts on her back.
“Ouch!” Sterling tried to dodge away from Moira’s ministrations, but Moira held her still.
“Just bear with it,” Moira’s jovial manner was gone. Her brow was furrowed as she examined the lash marks inflicted by Engram. She grew quiet as she worked her way around Sterling’s body. Sterling became accustomed to the sting of the liquid and accepted the fact that it would hurt, but the salve Moira smeared on each wound had a numbing affect that seemed to erase all the pain.
Moira worked quietly as she examined Sterling’s arms. She smeared a thick paste on the burns and then wrapped them in a thin gauze. “May I ask you a question?” she said while pulling the night shirt down over Sterling’s head. She helped her get her arms in the sleeves.
Sterling nodded in response.
“How long were you a prisoner?”
Sterling thought about it for a moment, “I was taken to Sionaad on the 30th of Unda.”
“The 30th of Unda?” Moira repeated, in shock. Then she said, “Today is the seventh of Turcia.”
The amount of time Sterling had lost to the Severon hit her squarely in the chest - six months of my life is gone. Half a year wasted in a dark prison cell.
“Well,” Sterling could hear the tears in Moira’s voice, but she cleared her throat before continuing, “you are safe now. The Severon will never touch you again.”
Sterling doubted she would ever get rid of the Severon. They followed her into her dreams.
Moira pulled a large bottle of out her box and poured a small amount of its contents, an amber liquid that smelled of lavender, into a small glass, “This is a mixture of valerian root and lavender, it will help you sleep.”
Sterling took the glass and sipped the contents. It wasn’t too terrible, flowers with a slight hint of pine. She drank the rest of the liquid.
Moira pulled another glass bottle from the box. She uncorked it and poured two tiny pellets into her hand, “This is feverfew. It will help with your fever.” She filled the small glass with water and handed the two pellets to Sterling.
“What am I supposed to do with these?” Sterling asked rolling the two tiny round pellets around in her hand.
“You swallow them,” Moira laughed. “Place them on the back of your tongue and take a big gulp of water and they’ll wash right down.”
Sterling was skeptical, but she followed Moira’s directions.
“Come now,” Moira helped Sterling to her feet and led her to the bed. “Let’s get rid of those disgusting trousers.” Sterling held the night gown up while Moira unfastened the belt Sterling had cinched tight around her waist. Sterling heard the slight gasp from Moira when she saw the scars that slithered up and down her legs.
“The Severon are very thorough,” Sterling couldn’t help the words that slipped past her lips.
“They should all rot in Abaddon,” Moira’s voice was angry, but she was gentle as she removed the trousers. She helped Sterling into the bed and looked at the blisters on Sterling’s feet. She gave them the same care as her arms and wrapped her feet and ankles in gauze. “In you go,” Moira smiled as she pulled the duvet back and directed Sterling to get into the bed.
“But I’m filthy,” Sterling said. She did not want to get the white sheets dirty.
“Don’t mind,” Moira said, “you just lie down and get some rest. When you wake up we’ll get you all cleaned up.”
Sterling wondered if this is what it felt like to have a mother to care for her. She could feel herself sinking into the soft mattress as Moira stoked the fire. Moira watched over her until the draw of sleep was too much for Sterling and she drifted into nothingness.
20
Gathering Storm
Dinner was in full swing by the sounds that echoed up the stairs. Tables were lined with men from Pan’Dale as well as those from other Tohms. The combination of food and drink was causing an all-out raucous of toasting their lord and cheering. Brom’s stomach growled in response to the aromas that lingered in the air.
“Brom!” His brother-in-law strode across the great hall to greet him. Orrven was a man among men. With his tall, lean frame he was just slightly taller than Brom’s six-foot, three-inch height. Three years older than Brom at thirty-four, he had met Moira in Sela’Char and fell in love. They’d wed when Orrven was twenty-four and Moira just eighteen. Orrven had become the youngest Arl in Kai’Vari and commanded both the Vesperrin and the respect of the other Arls. Blue eyed and blonde, many of the Kai’Varian women had vied for his attention, but he had eyes only for Moira. Brom was pleased that Orrven had been the one to woo and win his sister’s heart. There was no better man for Moira.
“How was your hunt? Did you find your graekull?”
“That and more,” Brom answered as he and Orrven headed toward the main table that stood at the head of the great hall. “We encountered a small group of Severon on the way back.”
“Tell me of this girl you found,” Orrven leaned over and whispered, “Conal tells me she is a Devian, is that true?”
“Aye, they claimed her a fugitive, but she’d been tortured.” Brom sat in the large chair to Orrven’s right, “They alleged she killed two of their own and some orphans, though I doubt that part to be true.”
Orrven chuckled, “She’s more a hero than a fugitive then.”
“It would seem.” Brom looked around, “Where is my cousin by the way?”
“He was at the range earlier. Conal was teaching him how to use the sendoa bow.”
“How did he do?” Brom couldn’t contain the chuckle that escaped. The sendoa was the most powerful of all the Veillen bows. It took immeasurable strength and years of training to use the sendoa. Conal had been trying to fully draw the string for as many years as Brom had known him and despite being a Master Archer, he could still only draw the large weapon about three quarters of the way.
“Oh, he was able to draw it, but not even a quarter back,” Orrven grinned.
Brom snorted, “That’s more than I expected. I suppose I owe you a coin.”
Orrven laughed lightly as he sipped upon a mug of a’kel. “Indeed, I need it to help pay Conal back five.” Brom eyed Orrven for a moment. There was a silence before both men erupted in laughter.
Brom’s stomach growled in great protest as soon as a covered platter was placed on the table. Orrven let out another laugh. “When the cook found out you were coming she prepared your favorite dish. And judging by the way your stomach just roared, I’d say I’d be hesitant to take my fair share without pulling back a nub.” Orrven uncovered the platter placed before them to reveal a succulent roast accompanied by potatoes and carrots. Brom’s mouth watered at the sight.
“Your Veillen comrades left yesterday after word of another graekull was spotted west of here.”
>
“Moira mentioned there had been an increase in attacks. Has Streegar requested more troops be sent from Var’Khundi?”
Orrven shook his head, “Streegar said he’d travel to Var’Khundi himself and request more men and that they wouldn’t be back for a while.”
Brom’s stomach suddenly soured at the news.
“I was surprised when he left with all of his men,” Orrven continued.
“Aye,” Brom agreed, “he should have left at least one of his men behind.” That damned Streegar, Brom thought, leaving Pan’Dale without a Veillen to protect it from a possible attack. Brom was happy when Streegar Fan’Gorn had been assigned to the Pan’Dale Hold. He was a talented warrior when it came to fighting, but in manners of business he had little common sense. Brom could see the concern in Orrven’s furrowed brow.
“It’s concerning,” Orrven said around a mouthful of potatoes, “the number of graekull attacks has increased recently. Normally we may have had one or two a month, but just two weeks ago we had two groups of three attack. Of course, that is on top of this most recent onslaught.”
“It’s not just here in the west,” Brom informed Orrven, “I’ve heard the Manuk several times on my journey here from Sela’Char.” Brom had indeed heard the wailing of the Manuk horns echo across the Kai’Varian forest and plains. The horns were from the Manuk that lived in the canopy of the Midori. The horns were the perfect tool to pass the word along of an attack. “I’ll not leave you and Moira without protection,” Brom added, “I’ll remain here until Streegar returns, or reinforcements arrive.”
Orrven nodded, “You have my thanks.” He chuckled but there was no humor in the sound, “My men are fearsome, but I doubt even our strongest of men could protect us against more than one of those demons.”
Brom silently agreed with Orrven. In fact, Brom doubted that Orrven’s men could even hold one graekull for more than just a couple of minutes. Veillen existed solely for fighting the demons that escaped Abaddon.
The Elemental Union: Book One Devian Page 14
