Warrior of the Dawn

by M. S. Brook

  “I’m the same Aidriana you’ve always known.”

  “Perhaps, but I think there’s more to it, and so does my Cousin Orabella, though she won’t talk about it. I’ve always had the feeling she thinks you’re the Warrior of the Dawn.”

  I didn’t have to pretend I was surprised. “What could a prophecy spoken at Prince Alestar’s funeral have to do with me?”

  “I don’t know, but I think it’s what Cousin Orabella meant that night she told us about her dream. She said you were the one.”

  “That’s mad.”

  Nieve giggled. “But so fascinating to think about.”

  In her own way, Nieve was changing too. She still loved to chatter on about boys or the embroidery design for her newest tunic, but I noticed a new strength coming to the surface. We worked through the harvest time as usual, but when autumn came, we were past the age for school lessons. I extended my hours in the smithy, and Nieve began helping the schoolmaster teach the younger children.

  One afternoon I called by after lessons were done. I was helping her put away abandoned slates and chalk and straighten the chairs for evenfest, when she said to me, “I’ve been thinking…I don’t imagine I could ever be a warrior like you. Goodness knows it’s not in me. But Cousin Orabella has been encouraging me to take up the healing arts like you.”

  “Oh, that’s a wonderful idea!” I said.

  Nieve’s face wore a mature, earnest look I’d never noticed before. “I want to do my part, Aidy. You know, Cousin Orabella sometimes tells me about her life in Domaine. She fears that Saduk will take over Canwyrrie too and turn the whole realm into the same kind of prison he and his fathers made of Domaine.” She shook her head. “The idea that he could destroy our beautiful land and steal everything we hold dear…it’s almost more than I can bear. I can’t just stand by and watch it happen. Would you go with me to talk with Mister Lionel?”

  “Of course I would! Let’s do it now.”

  We found Uncle Leo in the herb room and sat on benches around the stained wooden work table. He listened with solemn attention to Nieve’s idea.

  When she finished, he said, “The vocation of healer is a noble one to aspire to, and you’re right in thinking that our growing conflict with Saduk means we’ll have a greater need for healers than ever. I wish everyone in Canwyrrie shared your understanding.”

  Nieve blushed, and I smiled encouragement to her, proud of the step she was taking.

  Uncle Leo smoothed his silver-streaked beard for a moment. “I’ll be happy to take you on as an apprentice. I will need the permission of your mother and father, of course.” He rubbed his chin a bit more. “Your idea has come at just the right time. I haven’t mentioned this to Aidriana yet, but the council has asked me to ride to the border with patrols from time to time to care for those who are wounded in the border raids. We’ll need healers here in my absence. I’ve been thinking that it’s time to start a school for the healing arts like the one I attended as a young man.”

  I gasped. “Oh, Uncle Leo! That would be wonderful!”

  He smiled at me. “You’ll have a part to play too, young lady. Nieve will be our first student—I hope one of many. When I’m out with the patrols, you’ll assume her training.” He looked at Nieve. “If you’re agreeable, we’ll start immediately. I’ll sit by your hearth after evenfest tonight and speak with your mother and father.”

  “Oh yes, Mister Lionel! I’ll tell them to expect you.”

  “Very well. If you know of anyone else who may be interested, let me know.”

  As I followed Nieve out the door, Uncle Leo touched my shoulder. “It reflects on you when your friend makes a choice such as this. You are a leader. Never doubt it.”

  But as the seasons followed each other, I had to wonder. To be sure, good things happened. The healing school was established, based on the model of Ashling Keep. Our school grew to fourteen students, and we became known in the region as the Healing Company. I helped Uncle Leo teach our students how to grow and preserve healing herbs and how to use them in treatments. We also taught them about dreamsong. Each student either sang or played an instrument as their way of expressing the song. As our skills grew, our little company began to travel from town to town, practicing our art.

  I saw that the school fulfilled a dream for Uncle Leo, and I was happy for him, but it wasn’t my dream. My own dream of being a warrior seemed farther away than ever. Sometimes I wondered if I would ever see it fulfilled.

  “Keep on working,” Uncle Leo would say. “Canwyrrie needs you. They just don’t know it yet.”

  So I made more room inside for my dream to grow. Like a warrior, I never stopped battering at the gates, training hard, and keeping true to my heart. The front gates didn’t fall, but one day, in my eighteenth year, the back door opened, and I walked in.

  Chapter 15

  Papa and I were casting iron into horseshoe molds, when the smithy door opened and Arvel burst through. Splendid in his Guardian Red and Blues, he bowed and stood at attention. “Aidriana, you’re wanted urgently in the council room. My Lord Kempton and Mister Lionel request your attendance.”

  “What?” I looked from Arvel to Papa. “Now what did I do?”

  Papa shook his head, and Arvel smiled his broadest. “I’m sure it’s fine. They didn’t look put out, but you’re wanted right away. I’m to wait for you.”

  “All right, be with you in a minute.”

  I pulled off my apron in the back of the room, washed my hands and face in a basin of clean water, and tried to settle the wild curls that had escaped their braid. I couldn’t think of anything I’d done that might upset Lord Kempton. Of course, he’d never accepted that I was training with Uncle Leo, but that wasn’t new.

  Arvel jumped in to help Papa while he waited for me. Papa was giving instructions and both of them were laughing. Seeing them together, I was struck by how much Arvel reminded me of Papa. Fair hair, tied with a leather thong, hung in a silky tail below his broad shoulders, and a short, neat beard adorned his smiling face. He was a head taller than I and carried his solid frame with a warrior’s grace. The youthful awkwardness I remembered was long gone, but he had lost none of his sunny nature.

  I thought of Nieve and smiled to myself. She’d be amused if she knew I was admiring Arvel. I’d have to admit she’d been right about him all along.

  “I saw you shooting yesterday,” he said as we walked across the green. “Mister Lionel has you up to three arrow volleys now and very accurate, I see.”

  I warmed to the compliment, forgetting my apprehension about Lord Kempton. “Uncle Lionel is drilling me hard to increase my speed, but I’m far from your standard.” I’d often watched him practice. His deft hands wasted no motion, snatching spares from the quiver on his back, notching and shooting one arrow after the next in a smooth, quick rhythm.

  Arvel laughed. “I remember the drills. Used to dream it, even. I’d wake up in the morning thinking—notch, draw, release, spare, notch, draw, release, spare.”

  “Oh, I do that too!”

  We reached the solid oak door of the council room, and Arvel knocked twice. The heavy thuds resounded down the paneled corridor, and my heart began to quicken. A deep voice called from within, and Arvel swung the door open, nodding for me to pass through. He was about to close it behind me, when Lord Kempton waved his hand. “Arvel, you may stay too, if you please.” He indicated two empty chairs at the table.

  Uncle Leo was seated next to Lord Kempton. I tried to read his face, but I found no hint in his greeting. Arvel pushed the door closed behind us. From the expression in his eyes, I judged he was as unprepared for the meeting as I was. Still, I was glad to have him sit beside me.

  The council room was paneled in rich cherry wood, smelling of beeswax polish. Colorful tapestries of hunting scenes and royal pageants graced the walls, and on the flagstone floor lay a large, red rug
with the Shield of Enfys woven into the center. I felt the awe of the place come over me as we took our seats at the massive oaken table, where for generations before us, lords of Canwyrrie had deliberated with advisors and councilors.

  Lord Kempton leaned toward us, blue eyes intent behind heavy, reddish-gray brows. He cleared his throat. “I know you’ve work to do, so I’ll get right to it. As you know, Lionel has accompanied a number of border patrols recently. What with increased border incursions and the growing number of vithon attacks, the council deems it useful to have a healer visit the Northern region.” Lord Kempton paused to clear his throat again. “Aidriana, your skill as a healer has grown, and it has not gone unnoticed. Indeed, Lionel has taught you well.” He glanced at Uncle Leo, who nodded in acknowledgment.

  “In short, we need more healers. Lionel is making good progress with his school, but when we send him to the border, we take him from his apprentices. He has made a suggestion, however, that may help us.”

  I nodded, and my heartbeat sped faster. Lord Kempton sat back in his chair. His voice seemed tired, lacking its usual deep resonance. “On Lionel’s recommendation, would you consider joining our patrols going to the border?”

  He saw my face betray my excitement and raised his hand. “Allow me to finish before you answer. I still do not believe it is proper for a young lady to be involved in warfare…but we do need healers.” He smiled dryly. “As you pointed out to me on another occasion, we may yet need the help of everyone, man or woman, if we are to turn aside the evil that threatens our border. I can only hope we will soon pass through this season and return to our peaceful way of life.”

  I nodded again, trying to match Lord Kempton’s calm, grave expression. He leaned forward and rested his elbows on the table. “I want to be clear. First, your father and mother gave their permission to all of this, so you need not worry on their account. Second, and perhaps most important, you would go on patrol as a healer. That would be your sole duty. You would not fight except under the direst of circumstances, and then only in your own defense. I know you’ve had training and that you’ve gained some skill in the ways of the warrior.” He shot another glance at Uncle Leo. “But you are still a lady of this Household, and it would not do for you to come to harm. Should you choose to accept our offer, your sole purpose in going would be to treat the wounded and sick in the region.”

  His blue eyes seemed to bore into mine. “Is that understood?”

  “Yes, my lord. Understood.”

  The tension lifted slightly, and his eyes turned in Arvel’s direction. “However, we would not have you go out defenseless. That is where Arvel comes in.” At the mention of his name, Arvel sat, if possible, a little straighter in his chair.

  “Arvel, the council has watched you develop into a promising young warrior. We have chosen you to accompany Aidriana on patrol as her champion, because we know that you will follow your assignment without wavering. You are hereby relieved of all your former duties with the Lions. Your sole duty while Aidriana is on patrol will be to protect her and keep her out of danger, allowing her to attend the injured. Giving up your former duties may not be easy, but I cannot stress how important it is that we have a healer visit the Northern regions to respond to these enemy attacks.”

  I glanced at Arvel, who gave me an encouraging nod.

  “Aidriana’s participation is conditional upon this…somewhat unusual arrangement. Are you both willing to agree to it?”

  “Yes, my lord,” we both said.

  “Very well.” Lord Kempton pushed back from the table and stood. Arvel and I rose as well. “Aidriana, in order that you not draw attention to yourself and thus become a target, you will wear the Red and Blues along with the patrol. Therefore, as an honorary Guardian, you must swear allegiance to the king. Please kneel and place your hand over your heart.” I knelt on the rug right in the middle of the coat of arms bearing my true family name. My heart felt as if it might leap out of my chest.

  Lord Kempton went to the fireplace and took down a sword from a collection hanging on the wall. “This is the sword that Prince Alestar used to slay Saduk’s father. Unhappily, the prince died of his wounds. Perhaps if a healer had been available to him, the story would have a different ending.” He paused for a moment, too decisive a person for second thoughts, but I saw the inner struggle on his face. When he spoke, his voice was once again confident and deep. “Aidriana, do you swear fealty to King Aidan and the Royal House of Enfys?”

  “I do.”

  “Do you swear allegiance to his Royal Guardians?”

  “I do.”

  “Will you accept your commission as a healer and swear to carry out your duties in honor of the king?”

  “I will.”

  “Then in the name of King Aidan of Enfys, I induct you into his service.” He touched me lightly on each shoulder with the flat of the sword. “Rise, Miss Aidriana Ardleigh—healer in the service of your king.” He raised me with his right hand and thumped his palm over his heart in salute. “Honor!”

  I echoed the Guardian salute, hand held proudly over my heart. Lord Kempton turned to Arvel. In a clear voice, Arvel vowed to protect my life above his own. I felt an unexpected shiver in my bones.

  Uncle Leo, who’d been quiet throughout, said, “You both honor the king with your service. May the Songmaker watch over you and direct your ways.” He held my eyes for a moment, and I saw his pleasure mixed with a flicker of concern. It made sense. Becoming a warrior was a necessary step for the king’s heir, but that wouldn’t stop Uncle Leo’s concern for my safety. He must believe I was ready, or he wouldn’t allow me to go.

  Lord Kempton cleared his throat. “About your duties, then—your first assignment will be to ride with Captain Ardleigh and his Eagle patrol up to the Plevsferry region. You may not be aware that a number of Dominians have sought refuge in Canwyrrie in defiance of Saduk’s rule. They’ve called their settlement Evergreen after the Evergreen Woods south of the River Plevin. Their very existence is a slap in the face to Saduk, and the regents are most interested in how they fare.”

  Somehow I managed to contain my happiness as Lord Kempton went on with practical matters. “Your father is seeing to your sword, and Arvel can help you get a bedroll and the other kit you will need for the road. In fact, why don’t you do that now so you can be ready at a moment’s notice?”

  Arvel and I rushed off, leaving them standing there, two grizzled men with wrinkled brows, their hearts far less light than our own.

  In the garrison, the quartermaster pulled what we needed from his storage chests. I selected the smallest red tunic and sky-blue trousers I could find, also taking a matching red cloak for cooler weather and a thickly padded linen shirt for underneath my mail coat. “Mama will have to cut this down a bit,” I said to Arvel, holding the blood-red tunic up to my shoulders.

  “A bit,” he said with his ready grin.

  Rustling through the stores, we found a bedroll, canteen, dagger, and scabbard, along with other necessary sundries. I loaded Arvel like a packhorse and filled my own arms as well. “We’ll have to make a second trip for supplies from the armory,” he said. “Penmar will need barding too.”

  As Arvel helped me carry my kit home, I thought about him giving up his place in the Lions without protest, not to mention his sworn commitment to hold my safety above his own life.

  “Are you all right with this?” I asked.

  His smile gave every indication that he was happy with his new orders. “I wouldn’t trade it for anything.”

  “But I’m sorry that you—”

  “It is my great pleasure to be your champion. I hope you’ll forgive me, but I was there the day Lord Kempton turned you away from warfare training. I admired your courage that day, and I admired you even more when I heard you were pursuing your training with Mister Lionel. And on that day when you fought Rowland—”

  My f
ace twitched, and he saw the involuntary movement. “No, I saw your passion that day and wondered at it, but it makes sense now. All this is meant to be.”

  “But Arvel—”

  “Don’t you see? Nothing like this has ever happened before, and I get to be part of it!” Arvel looked at me with his cloudless blue eyes, and I was the one to look away first.

  Papa and I made my sword together. I was his assistant through the many steps of tempering and annealing, heating and quenching, beating and filing—until we had a blade of perfect, gleaming steel.

  “It’s not like making horseshoes, that’s for sure,” I said to Papa.

  “No, the tempering is very important. If the metal is too hard, it will be brittle and shatter, too soft and it will not keep its edge. Indeed, you might say that swords are made the same way as warriors—forged by fire and hammer.”

  I held the hot blade to the anvil while Papa hammered it into shape, and I wondered if I had as true a temper as the sword we were making. Would my character hold up when tested as I knew it would be on patrol?

  We put on the final touches, forming the hilt with a crossbar that curved under at the ends. Papa engraved the pommel with my first initial, and I wrapped the grip with strips of raw leather. When our work was complete, Papa picked up the sword and presented it to me with a bow. “Your weapon, Princess Aidriana.”

  I bowed in return. “Much obliged, Master Bladesmith.” I took the sword by the grip and examined it as though I’d not seen it before. “Just as I thought—it’s perfect.”

  “Remember,” Papa said, “only for use in dire need.”

  “I’ll remember.” I danced around the room, stepping and feinting, swinging the sword until the air sang. Papa watched me with a half smile on his face.

  Mama cut down my Red and Blues to fit me. Because I had the tall, lithe frame common to my Northern heritage, I was scarcely shorter than most Canwyrish men, but I was considerably leaner. She took in the red tunic and shirt and tapered the blue trousers to fit closely. In place of a Lion or Eagle patch to wear on my shoulder, she sewed a green leaf. When everything was ready for fitting, I put on the trousers and padded shirt and tried to squirm into my heavy mail coat. I got my arms in the sleeves, but Mama had to help me pull it over my head. I wriggled my shoulders a few times and pulled the sleeves to my wrists. The rest of the coat rippled down over my thighs.