Warrior of the Dawn

by M. S. Brook

  There was laughter and back-slapping as Arvel retrieved his spear from the vithon’s chest. “This hide would make a good pair of boots,” he said. “Anyone want to skin it for me?”

  “Boots made from that vermin would stink—maybe even worse than the ones you’re wearing,” Brady said, and everyone laughed.

  “Guess I asked for that.” Arvel grinned and wiped his spear in a patch of clean grass.

  “All right, everyone,” Azar said. “That’s two dead vithons. We’ll burn them when we’re ready to leave. I’ve heard of vithon eggs hatching inside a carcass. We want no survivors from this lot.”

  “Let’s find a place to set up camp and get some rest,” Captain Longmeadow said. “The Blackcoats were kind enough to kill a deer for our supper!”

  There was a cheer at that, and we jumped to our tasks. The captain walked over to me as I was packing up my medicine bag. His blue eyes were intent in his weathered face. “I won’t pretend to know how you did it, but any more dreams like that—you let me know right away. Understood?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  He clapped me on the shoulder and walked away to wash up in the brook. The men near enough to hear were all looking at me. Before they could start asking questions, I slipped away to collect firewood with Arvel. Azar and Brady dressed the deer, and I went through the familiar motions of building a cooking fire and helping to prepare our meal, but my mind was on the Bezarq’s words, especially what he’d said about my father.

  “Do you think the Bezarq was lying about King Aidan?” I asked Arvel when we had a moment.

  A rare frown creased his face. “I don’t know. I certainly hope so. But we haven’t heard from our king in a long time. I can’t think of why he wouldn’t send us word if he were able.”

  Arvel and I stood our turn in the first watch of the night. While the men were settling down to sleep, we talked more about what we’d learned from the Bezarq. I mentioned his final words, “Honor in death.”

  “There is no honor in death,” Arvel said, “only in doing what is right. If it ends in death, then so be it.”

  We were quiet for a while, and then I said, “I’m worried about the king. If he has fallen into the hands of Saduk, what will happen to him?”

  “At least the Bezarq didn’t say he was dead. That’s something.”

  “But we must find him soon. The longer he is held…” I didn’t have the heart to finish my thought out loud.

  “I believe he will be found. And I wouldn’t be surprised if you were right in the middle of it.”

  I could hardly keep from telling him then that the king was my father, but I had to be so careful. There were few secrets in the garrison. The smallest look or slip of the tongue and everyone would know. I shrugged away the feeling that I was being disloyal to Arvel and spoke of other things.

  Chapter 23

  When our patrol returned to Highfield, the account of my dream and the ensuing Blackcoat rout was told and retold in the Guardian garrison. The Eagles seemed to view me as a mixture of company mascot and oracle. Arvel started calling me ‘Lady Aidy,’ and the rest of the company picked it up. They were interested in what I had to say about any number of things. If I was watching an off-duty game of stone soldiers, one of the men would say, “My lady, Torin has me cornered—what move should I make next?” Or if there was racing, they would defer to me: “My lady, whose horse shall I put my wager on? Do you favor Arvel or Brady?” I would laugh and say that the sight, if I had it, was not for board games or horse racing. Still, my opinion was no less sought. I became the toast of the Eagles and the envy of the Lions, but I was learning that in spite of the attention I now received, I was no less lonely than I’d been when the whole Household was against me. One thing hadn’t changed—my companions did not know who I was. The secret of my identity had become a wall around me. I could not be known for who I was, for if the truth slipped out, it would make me a target.

  As usual, I went to Uncle Leo to help me sort it out. He tugged on his beard and thought for a while, finally saying, “Remember years ago when I told you we could not hide you forever?”

  I nodded.

  “Well, this is the beginning. But know that the opinions of others, whether high or low, do not reflect the truth of who you are. You must become convinced of who you are. And the more you are sure, the less you can be hidden.”

  After a short leave, we went back on patrol. Three days into our journey north, I dreamed about the enemy’s location again. This time I went without hesitation to the captain. He was quick to abandon our plans and head west toward the River Silver, where I saw the enemy camped in my dream. We quickened our pace across the meadows. Tiny beads of dew glistened on the soft, green turf, and the sky was washed with bird’s egg blue. The air had that fresh, morning smell to it. I breathed in, wishing I could draw in the beauty of the morning like a breath and keep it forever.

  Once again the land unfolded before us, exactly as I had foreseen. We came upon the River Silver and followed alongside it until we came to a wide bend. The forest grew close to the bank, preventing us from seeing the large war band ahead of us. We rounded the bend, and there they were.

  Captain Longmeadow gave the word, and we went on the attack. All seemed well at first. We rode toward them, and they swarmed to their horses to mount up for battle. They had the advantage of numbers, but I was confident we would prevail. After all, my dream had allowed us to catch them by surprise.

  But the Blackcoats were not far from ready. Even as we reached them, they fumbled into formation. We pressed our advantage, striking hot and quick. I charged in with my spear ready; picking out a Bezarq ahead of us, I let fly and dropped him. I still wasn’t used to it, but we were face to face with our enemy, and I couldn’t stop to think about it. Using my knees to direct Morningstar, I drew my sword.

  Arvel was on my left, covering my weakest side, and Sergeant Azar rode to my right. We galloped into the thick of it. I swung at the nearest enemy, using the weight and speed of Morningstar to hack him down and plow onto the next man. They backed up and allowed us to think we were winning in the first minutes, but then they stiffened and pulled together. Without forward momentum, it was harder going. We pressed their line, searching for a weak point to exploit. I heard Arvel beside me grunting with each sweep of his sword. I nudged Morningstar and forged ahead into the opening he made.

  From the corner of my eye, I saw the Blackcoats close the line behind me. Two of them were holding something stretched between them. I glanced again—it seemed to be a jumble of thick ropes. The other Blackcoats made way for them, and in a flash the two Blackcoats were right behind me, one on either side. I had no time to think, but my body acted for me. Leaning forward, I dug my heels into Morningstar’s flanks. He surged ahead, dodging around the Blackcoats coming at me from the front. I kept looking back, but the two riders managed to stay on my tail. They raised the heavy net between them, and I ducked as low as I could. Azar was shouting from behind, racing to catch up, but he was too far away to help. On the other side, I glimpsed Arvel, straining to catch up, but I’d outrun my cover. There was a wild cry from behind, and the rope flew over my head and dropped. Morningstar careened from side to side as I struggled to free myself from the heavy mesh, but my sword was tangled and I couldn’t find the reins. In an instant the ropes sprang taut, and I was swept to the ground, landing in a blind tangle with the wind knocked out. Not knowing which way to move, I wriggled onto my stomach and lay still, hooves pounding on either side of me. There was a shout from above, and a body landed beside me. “It’s me!” Arvel said, as he swarmed under the ropes and lay on top of me, pressing me into the grass. “Don’t move.”

  It was useless instruction, as I was face-down in the grass with Arvel’s weight on top. I was scarcely able to breathe, much less move, and I was blind, too, under his cloak, but I could hear the horses circle and come back toward us. “
Let me up! They’re coming back!”

  “Stay down!” he said into my ear. “No matter what happens, lie still.”

  The returning hoof beats were upon us, the jangle of weapons and harness, the wild shouts. And then I felt terrible thuds as spears hit Arvel’s back. Three times he cried out in pain, the last ending a moan, and then the powerful grip around my shoulders relaxed.

  The wave of pounding hoofs receded, only to be followed by another, smaller wave speeding by. “After them! Don’t let them circle back,” Brady shouted, galloping past me.

  “Arvel?” I said. “Arvel?”

  Captain Longmeadow was shouting orders in the distance, but I no longer wanted to get up. The hoof beats went farther away, until I could hear them no longer. The enemy was being led away from me, but who was prevailing? Either way, I needed to get up and get back into the fight. Still, I lay there, pressed into the ground, panting and dizzy, too weak to get up.

  I waited too long. The ground thundered with the beat of horses again, only two or three this time by the sound of it. I’d lost my sword and wondered, almost without caring, if I’d have the chance to reach the dagger in my boot, or if I would die, defenseless, at Arvel’s side. I lay still while the horses slowed to a stop. The riders swung out of their saddles and stepped toward me.

  “Aidriana?” Sergeant Azar’s gruff voice held an unusual note of anxiety.

  “I’m all right,” I said, struggling to crawl out from under Arvel and the net. “But Arvel…”

  Azar and Torin lost no time freeing me. They pulled the heavy mesh away from Arvel’s head. Two heavy spears lay to the side, but one had pierced his mail; the net around it was stained bright red. We gently turned him on his side. I dropped to my knees beside him, undid his helmet strap, and slipped it off. But for a trickle of blood at his mouth, his handsome face was untouched. Sunlight glistened on his golden beard; his long, straight hair was still fastened in the neat braid he wore on patrol. Empty blue eyes stared into a land beyond my seeing. Arvel had left me and gone to a place where I could not follow. I squeezed back the tears that stung my eyelids, knowing there would be an endless flood if I gave in.

  Azar removed his helmet and knelt across from me. I watched as he and Torin released the spear and turned Arvel on his back. Azar crossed the unresisting arms over his chest and closed the lids on Arvel’s sky-blue eyes. It was like a door slamming shut in my face.

  Face-down on the trampled sod, I heard myself pounding the earth with clenched fists and crying, “No, no!” over and over again. But my voice was like the voice of a stranger—as if the earth itself was wailing and groaning at the wrongness of his death. I smelled the crushed grasses and moist earth I was lying on, but it seemed foreign, as if I didn’t belong anymore. Everything was strange, like a terrible dream. Surely it would be over soon. He would wake up and smile, and we would be together again like we always were.

  But Arvel lay, unmoving, on the grass beside me, and I could not fool myself for long. I sat up and cradled his head in my arms. The memory of life and breath still warmed him, his weight pressing on me. How could I be alive, and he not? It wasn’t Arvel who should be gone—it was I. He had deliberately gone between me and the spears. Like a hen covers her chicks with her wing, Arvel had shielded me with his own body.

  My mind wandered back to that snowy day in the forest with Papa, my first taste of Saduk’s bitter war, when I’d vowed never again to stand by helplessly while someone I loved was hurt. But in spite of all my training as a warrior and as a healer, I could not help Arvel when he needed me. And now he was gone, his bright light snuffed out long before his time. “I should have died instead of you,” I whispered. My breath disturbed a few loose strands of golden hair, and I brushed them back in place behind his ear. If only I could do something to make it right.

  Azar and Torin stood by me while I sat there, though I scarcely noticed their concerned glances. I failed also to note that our men had come back and were gathering the dead and wounded, until Azar touched me on the shoulder. “My lady, I am sorry to disturb you. But the wounded need you, if you are able.”

  I jumped up with sudden awareness. Azar picked up my treatment bag and took my arm, leading me to a shady area where the wounded waited for me. Hardly knowing what I did, I moved from man to man, treating injuries, from the greatest to the least, soothing, and healing. As I sang over them and bound up their wounds, my mind was distracted for a moment from my grief. And then I saw the bloody bodies of the other fallen Guardians, Captain Longmeadow among them.

  The men tried to comfort me—kind, clumsy, unused to it—but I was far beyond the reach of comfort.

  Seven brave Guardians lost their lives that morning, taking fifteen Dominians with them. As tradition and honor dictated, we gave our enemies a respectful burial, piling stones over their graves so no animals could disturb them. Azar, whose position as first sergeant now put him in charge of the patrol, said a solemn prayer, committing their songs back to the Maker. Our own dead we would carry home with us.

  I kept a vigil through the night, staying by the fire until dawn. Azar joined me during the first watch. I struggled to swallow a bite of the dried meat he brought me and pushed the rest away.

  “I fear you are taking this too hard,” he said, sitting on the ground beside me. “It’s one thing to mourn Arvel and the others, but you’ve picked up an extra load.”

  “If he hadn’t taken an oath to protect me, he would still be alive. And worse, it’s my dream that started all of this.”

  “Not one of us would blame you for what the Blackcoats did. And as for Arvel, he fulfilled his vow to protect, and if need be, die for you. There is no shame or guilt in that. He would never have it so.”

  I looked into the fire for support, but there were visions in the flames. Even when I closed my eyes I saw the huddled lump under the netting. My chest felt heavy, like something pressed against it, squeezing out my breath. It was too much effort to speak.

  “He was your champion,” Azar said. “He did what he had to do, and though I don’t want to distract from his memory, I must have your ear. This attack looks deliberate to me—as if they were after you from the start.”

  I thought about the Blackcoats invading our cottage back at Highfield. Was it true? Could they know who I was?

  “This war band had a particular purpose,” Azar said. “They traveled light. No vithons along to slow them down. And they had nets with them—something we’ve never seen before. The men found two other nets at their campsite.”

  I looked at his worried eyes and then back into the fire. The pine logs popped from time to time, sending sparks sailing up into the black expanse of night. I stirred the fire with a stick and sent up a whole cloud, watching the tiny lights burn out in the darkness.

  Sergeant Azar was not put off by my silence. “I saw them go after you today. Why was that? What were they after?” He paused and lowered his voice. “We do know that Saduk is hunting for all the descendants of the Royal House.”

  I looked up from the fire. Azar’s thick, sandy brows were pushed into a worried frown. I wished he would stop and let me be.

  “My lady, there are…rumors about your birth. I know you do not speak of it, but perhaps the time has come to do so.”

  I found my tongue then and spoke with all the stiffness I could muster. “What rumors, Sergeant Azar?”

  He ticked them off, one by one, on his fingers. “Well, to start with, it’s common knowledge that you were brought here from the North, the birthplace of kings, by the mysterious Lionel Wells. No one seems to know who your blood family is. And then there’s the seer’s dream—I heard Orabella Stonedale identify you myself. She saw you crowned. And if that’s not enough, you’re a warrior—and until now, there has never been a female warrior in Canwyrrie.” His eyes were searching. “Look, I don’t know what’s in your bloodline, but perhaps Domaine has put it all to
gether. Perhaps they acknowledge something that you do not. Perhaps they believe you’re of royal blood.”

  I felt a wild stab of fear go through me. If he was right, I was jeopardizing the lives of everyone who rode with me. I looked down at my shaking hands, unwilling to meet his eye.

  Azar mistook the cause of my fear. “Hiding who you are may not be enough to protect you.”

  “Don’t you see?” I made my voice flat and unyielding. “If the Blackcoats are after me, whatever the reason, I am endangering the lives of every man in this patrol. I cannot stay with you, knowing that I am the special target of Saduk. I will resign from the Guardians before I do that.”

  “With respect, my lady, you did not set this affair in motion and you are not able to halt it on your own. Let us help. There’s not a Guardian in the land who would hold back from giving his life for you.”

  “But that’s exactly what I don’t want to happen. I would give anything to have Arvel back, but he is gone. The only way I can salvage any good from this day is to make sure I never make anyone the target of Saduk again. None of this would have happened if I’d not been on this patrol.”

  “But you cannot escape it. Saduk will keep coming. He won’t quit just because you do.”

  “I am not quitting! I just want to stay out of the way.”

  He shook his head and looked into the fire. We sat in silent disagreement, keeping vigil together until the next watch. Azar went to his bedroll, but I stayed on. At least I could do that much for our dead. I fed more logs to the fire and watched until they turned to feathery ash, but my vigil was disturbed. Azar was right. Who were they trying to catch with those nets, if not me? Somehow Saduk’s agents had heard about me, and Arvel had stopped them with his life.