“Brom, you made it!” Gavin called out as he ran across the hall and sat cheerfully next to Brom, his face red from exertion.
Conal nodded at Brom, “He has potential, but needs training, a lot of training.”
“I was able to draw it nearly halfway,” Gavin boasted.
“Halfway?” Conal scoffed. “You barely pulled it a quarter of the way.”
“Well, it’s still better than what Orrven can pull.” Gavin pointed at the Arl.
They all laughed at Orrven’s expense, “Not even a quarter?” Brom laughed as well.
“Where is my wife?” Orrven bellowed around a mouthful of meat, trying to divert the unwanted attention.
“She is tending to Sterling,” Brom remarked. The mood turned somber at the mention of Severon. “She is covered in wounds that needed attention.”
“Brom, every time you come to my home you manage to occupy your sister’s time with some needless task. I forbid you from coming here again,” Orrven smiled.
Brom grunted and dug into the roast. He’d forgotten how much he enjoyed food not cooked over an open flame. He motioned for the servant and another platter was placed before him. He was halfway through when he saw Moira enter the hall. He stopped, fork halfway to his mouth. She was pale, too pale. He put the utensil down and stood.
“When do we leave for Var’Khundi?” Gavin asked.
“Master Brom,” Cinri approached Brom with a sealed parchment, “this just arrived from Sela’Char.”
Brom took the parchment and examined the wax seal to find the Veillen cross. Brom broke the seal and read the missive. “It seems we are staying longer than expected,” Brom tossed the parchment to the side, “Gregor and the other two nors are held up in Sela’Char.”
“When are they expected?” Gavin asked.
Brom ignored Gavin’s inquiry and made his way over to Moira. The room was filled with the entire Pan’Dale army, but no one paid any attention to Brom as he headed toward his sister.
“What is wrong?” he asked her. She had tears in her eyes.
“Oh, Brom.” She wiped away a tear that escaped down her cheek.
“What is wrong Moira?” Brom had a sudden fear that Sterling had somehow harmed his sister. Had he made a mistake leaving Moira with Sterling, who was still an unknown?
“There are so many scars,” Moira said, around a sob. “What she has endured I would not wish upon my enemy.” She leaned into Brom with her head down. “They are truly evil,” she mumbled.
Brom put his hand on Moira’s shoulder. He felt awkward and clumsy as he consoled his sister. “She is out of danger now. She will be safe here.”
Moira nodded, “Her fever should pass soon. The droglin paste helped and I’ve given her some feverfew.”
“Good, now go see to your husband. He is angry that I have kept you from him.” Moira blushed and pushed past Brom and ran to her husband’s side. He watched as she kissed Orrven on the lips and took her place beside him.
Moira was an excellent healer and she had seen plenty of wounds inflicted by both man and demon, but he hated to expose her to the Severon’s brutality. He had protected her until she had married Orrven – now it was Orrven’s job to see to her safety. Many men had wooed Moira when she came of age, but Brom had declined them all until Orrven demanded her hand. There was no hesitation on Brom’s part in accepting the Pan’Dale Arl’s proposal. It did not hurt that Moira had fallen madly in love with Orrven.
Brom gave one last glance at his sister’s smiling face and exited the great room. Though the food was delicious, it was not in him tonight to deal with the chaos that was the evening dinner. He was exhausted from the hunt and filthy from travel. The draw of sleep was calling to him, but first he needed to wash the dirt from his tired body. In the coming days he expected the arrival of Gavin’s fellow nor’Veillen. He would start their training here at Pan’Dale while he waited for Streegar’s return.
Brom made his way to the bathing chamber below the kitchens. He leaned Tryg against the wall and disrobed. Before wading into the deep water, he sat on a low stool and scrubbed the filth and grime from his tired and sore muscles. He dumped a bucket of warm water over his head and scrubbed soap in to his hair and beard. His hair had grown longer while traveling to and from Sela’Char, perhaps he should have it cut before heading to Var’Khundi. Two more buckets rinsed away the soap along with the dirt.
Happy with the results, Brom lowered his body into the warm water until all but his head was above the surface. His aches eased away as the warmth soaked into his bones. The hot baths were the one thing he missed the most when he traveled across Kai’Vari. And the cook’s roasts, Brom thought as he patted his full stomach, smiling.
Brom closed his eyes and leaned his head against the stone that ran along the edge of the bath. He had few opportunities to relax and he planned to take full advantage of this rare occurrence. The sound of heavy footsteps echoed down the stone steps to the bath. Brom opened one eye to see who it was that was disturbing his peace.
“I knew you’d be here,” Conal said as he appeared from the dark stairwell.
Brom grunted and closed his eye.
“Gavin finally crashed after eating two platters of roast.” Conal completed his own pre-bath ritual and slipped into the bath across from Brom. The water rippled across the large pool and lapped at the stone.
“He has always been full of energy.” It was true that Gavin went non-stop, always chattering about something. His exuberance exhausted Brom.
“Perhaps you can channel his energy into his training.”
Brom chuckled, “We can only hope.”
“What are you going to do with the girl?” Conal inquired.
It was a question Brom had asked himself several times. He wanted to leave her in Moira’s care, but the fact that she was a Devian and a Rin’Ovana made the decision a difficult one.
Brom stood, stepping out of the bath. “How long are you on leave?” Brom asked, drying himself before stepping into his pants and fastening the belt at his waist.
“I’ve a month before I have to return to Sela’Char,” Conal replied. “But I’m leaving for the Fal’Barbner Hold in a day or two.”
Brom picked up Tryg from where he’d placed his faithful sword and strapped the weapon to his back. “If you stay here too long Orrven will set you to work training his young archers,” Brom said as he retrieved his boots and turned to leave.
“I refuse!” Conal’s response bounced off the thick walls. “He’ll have to contend with my wife if I stay any longer.” Conal was the highest-ranking archer in all Kai’Vari and trained the young warriors sent to Sela’Char to serve in their King’s army.
“Orrven would never survive,” Brom chuckled as he left Conal in the bath and made his way upstairs toward the living quarters. The hour had grown late, and the great hall had emptied of its revelers. The Pan’Dale warriors had retreated to their barracks located just outside the main building. Streegar and the other Veillen had their own barracks separate from Orrven’s men, but the building stood empty with Streegar having left for Var’Khundi.
Brom entered his room and closed the door behind him. He was exhausted after being around so many humans. Humans. He was a human, wasn’t he? He’d been born a human, but how many years had he fought the demons that emerged from the deep recesses of the earth? There are times, he mused, that I feel half dead and half demon. How many times had he faded into the Veil, into the realm of the dead? No human had the strength that he and the other Veillen possessed.
Is this really your will for us Orla? Brom wondered to himself. For the Veillen to protect the helpless humans from the demons that found their way out of Abaddon? Without Moraug’s seal the gate stood open. Orla had tasked the Veillen with keeping the graekull in check and it was a task they had perfected, but when would the task end? It had been over a thousand years since Wrenkin had killed Moraug. When would the gates be sealed forever and the Veillens’ task be done? How many more war
riors would he see die at the hands of the corruption and greed that filled men’s hearts?
Brom sat on his bed and situated his boots against the wall. He placed his sword on the bed next to him and laid back on the soft mattress and put his hands behind his head. Exhaustion pulled at him and made his eyelids heavy. He’d been on the road for over a month and the feel of the soft mattress surrounding him stripped away the last barrier to sleep.
A loud thud in the adjacent room brought Brom out of his haze instantly. He stood by the door to the adjoining room and listened. After a moment he turned the handle and pushed the door open. It was dark save for a single candle that struggled to illuminate the large room. The flame sputtered, threatening to go out, but the little flame held on and sparked back to life. Brom walked silently across the room and paused when he found the large bed empty. The shutters to the windows stood closed to the night air. Sterling had to be in the room.
A sob caught his attention and he peered around the opposite side of the bed. There, huddled in the corner, he found Sterling. She was curled up into a tight protective ball, with her arms wrapped around her legs and her face tucked into her knees. A single tear reflected in the flickering candlelight. Another low and heartrending sound escaped her cracked and dry lips as she gripped her legs tighter to her chest. Her arms were covered in bandages as were her feet. Behind the fabric of the nightgown, Brom could see Moira’s other handiwork with the bandages that swathed the girl from nearly head to toe.
Brom sighed. This girl, he thought, is more trouble than she is worth. He scooped her up, her skin icy cold, and placed her in the center of the giant bed. She remained in her protective ball as he pulled the heavy duvet up to her chin. He stood there, watching her, until her body relaxed, her grip loosening so her legs could stretch out. The bed was so large she appeared as a child. She seemed calm, but every now and then her body would twitch and her brow furrow. A mumbled ‘no’ would escape her cracked lips as if she was trying to fend off an attacker. Did she dream of Engram and the Severon?
Resigned to the fact that he could do nothing about her nightmares, Brom turned to leave, but stopped when icy fingers touched him. He looked down to watch her wrap her fingers around his much larger battle worn hand. Her eyes were still closed, but he knew it was not a restful sleep. Her furrowed brow relaxed as her fingers tightened around his. Brom sighed again and gently pried her fingers open, but as soon as he released himself from her grip the worried look on her sleeping face returned. Her hand moved about in a frantic search for something to grasp on to. A moan swept past her lips as her jaws clenched. “No.” The sound was a mere whisper, but the desperation in that single word was enough for Brom to take hold of Sterling’s hand again.
The moment their skin touched, the stress in her small body seemed to flow away. Relaxed once again, she fell into a restful sleep.
“Damn it,” Brom groaned beneath his breath and sat down on the bed beside Sterling, the mattress dipping under his weight. He was exhausted. He had hoped once he handed her over to Moira he could wash his hands of her. He leaned his head against the massive headboard and closed his eyes. “When did I become a nursemaid?” he asked the question of the dark room.
He sighed and looked down at her for a moment and noticed her forehead clammy with sweat. Her long brown hair was matted in places and clung to her damp skin. He found the washing basin by her bed, the water now long cooled. With thick calloused fingers, he pulled out the small shred of cloth and wrung it gently. Taking a moment to brush the stray strands of hair away from her forehead, he began to gently wipe away the sweat still clinging to her face. He smiled gently for a moment, before wetting the cloth once more and gently brushing it against her face.
And did so throughout the rest of the night.
21
Clean
Dan’Ruok, 9th Turcia, 1021
Sterling sat up, pushing her hair out of her face. She was in a massive bed in a luxurious room. It was like nothing she had seen before. The walls were a soft blue with white accents that reminded Sterling of the afternoon sky. The furniture, the bed and night stand were fashioned of dark wood and the mattress was thick and plush and firm pillows surrounded her. Two chairs sat against the opposite wall with a small table between them. A bouquet of white flowers adorned the table.
Sterling felt a great weight lift off her shoulders the moment she and Brom had ridden across the bridge to Pan’Dale. The Severon could not reach her here, at least she prayed they could not. She’d given her trust to Kellen only to be betrayed. How did she know she could trust these Pan’Dales? Sterling looked down at her gauze wrapped arms and remembered the care she had been given.
Sterling eased herself out of the bed and onto the plush rug that covered the wide planks of the wood floor. She winced as she put her full weight on her legs. Despite the gauze and the ointment Moira had spread across the blisters, her feet ached, as did her legs from running.
She gingerly wandered the room, looking out the windows that were covered by a soft sheer fabric. She was surprised to find that when she pushed on the glass, the panes opened, and a breeze rushed into the room. She took a deep breath filling her lungs with the fresh air and expelling the dank air from her prison. Sterling glanced down and found herself to be on the second or third floor of the Keep. Below her, a wide training field stood empty in the early morning. A tall stone wall ran the perimeter of the Keep and beyond the wall Sterling could see a forest that spread out below them. Adjacent to the wall were several two-story stone buildings. Sterling wondered what their purpose was.
A wardrobe stood against the wall opposite the windows. It was a wide, grand piece of furniture. Curious, Sterling opened the two sturdy doors and found a selection of dresses and shoes that stood at attention on the floor of the wardrobe. Sterling’s lip curled at the dresses and she closed the doors with a click. Next to the wardrobe, she noticed a second door from the one that led to the hall. A closet perhaps? Sterling walked across the room and reached for the handle. The door opened and on the other side was a similar room to her own, but with more rugged and sparse furniture.
“That’s Brom’s room,” Sterling jumped at the sound of Moira’s voice and quickly closed the door. Moira stood in the doorway with a tray of food in her hands. Moira laughed, “I thought you might be hungry.”
Sterling’s stomach growled in celebration. Moira laughed and carried the tray to the table that sat between the two chairs. On the tray was an assortment of fruit, ham, a large pile of steaming scrambled eggs, and a glass of fresh milk. Sterling couldn’t help but gobble down the food as fast as she could. It had been so long since she had a real meal.
“Slow down or you’ll have a stomach ache.”
Sterling glanced at Moira over the glass and shook her head, “I don’t care,” she managed around the food.
Moira laughed at Sterling’s delight in the simple fare Vita had prepared for her. While Sterling ate, Moira stood near the windows that overlooked the training grounds. The morning was bright, and the sun was warm. Moira threw open the windows and a gentle breeze tickled her cheeks. Below, Orrven and his men were at their daily routine of sparing and sword training.
She glanced back at Sterling who was in the process of wiping her mouth with the back of her hand. Moira rolled her eyes, “You know, there was a napkin there for you to use.”
“Sorry,” Sterling said around a mouthful of eggs.
“Come see,” Moira waved Sterling over when she laid the fork down and gulped the last bit of milk. Sterling approached the window and Moira pointed to Orrven. “See there, that is my husband Orrven, the Arl of Pan’Dale. His men protect the borders of Kai’Vari from Duenin.”
On the other side of the field Moira spotted Brom as he stood silently listening to Gavin, his arms crossed in obvious annoyance. Moira could only imagine what their cousin had gotten into this time. The poor boy was never going to become a Veillen. Moira looked down and found Sterling’s eyes fixated on
Brom. “You’ve already met my brother, Brom.”
Moira watched Sterling as she watched Brom. She seemed to be transfixed by Brom. Her eyes never wavered from his unyielding form. It was true Brom was sought out by many Arls for marriage, but he had already dedicated his life to Orla. Brom, with his heightened senses must have felt their eyes on him. When he turned his gaze upon them Sterling drew in a breath and stepped back out of sight.
Another breeze pushed through the room, moving the odorous scent of sweat and filth from the training grounds. Moira turned and looked down at their guest. “Oh my, Sterling, you stink.” The words were out before she could stop them. Moira giggled at Sterling’s embarrassment, then said, “Let us get you in to a bath and get rid of that smell.”
A bath! Sterling didn’t think she’d been this excited about a bath in her entire life. “That sounds amazing,” Sterling said with a smile. She started to pull the night gown over her head, but paused when Moira gave her an odd look, “What?” Sterling asked.
“What are you doing?” Moira laughed.
“I’m getting ready for a bath,” Sterling responded.
“Silly,” Moira smiled, “we have communal baths in Kai’Vari.” Moira took Sterling’s hand and led her into the hall and down a narrow set of steps that led directly to the bathing chamber. As they descended, the air steadily grew thicker with the heat and the humidity. “Watch your step,” Moira cautioned, “the steps get damp from the moisture down here. We’re directly below the dining hall.” Moira gestured upward before she pushed open a narrow wooden door and entered the chamber. A large recessed round pool sat in the center of the room, steam from the water wafted through the air and caused an otherworldly glow from the torches that lined the walls. Four pillars stood to support the chamber and benches lined the area around the pool. In the corner were low stools with smaller pools for bathing.
Moira smiled at the shock and awe upon Sterling’s face. “Do they not have bathing chambers in Duenin?” she asked Sterling.
The Elemental Union: Book One Devian Page 15
