Bylo said nothing, but neither did he offer any protest. It was enough of a consensus for Nara, who hurried after Anne. "Wait," she said. "I'll help. And we're coming with you."
Bylo urged them to pack up camp quickly and they continued north, parallel to the road. It was slow going as they trundled through the brush, avoiding heavy woods and swampy marshes. Bylo had more difficulty than the others. Nara stayed close to him at first but soon after wandered ahead, becoming distracted with a conversation Mykel was having with Gwyn at the front of the group.
"Where are you from?" Mykel asked.
"The Barony of Took," Gwyn said. "It's near Eastway, actually."
"So, you were heading this direction before you met us?"
"I was going home to visit."
Nara wondered what sort of place such a fierce woman might call home.
"And where did you learn to use those swords?" Mykel asked.
"I was employed by the Baron of Took for some time. It was there that I received my training."
"You're a mercenary, then?"
"Something like that. More like a bodyguard, I would say."
"I would love to learn the sword. How long will you stay with us?"
"I suppose until you get where you are going," she said. "I'm not expected home for more than a week, and it isn't out of my way."
"We appreciate your help," Mykel said.
"You're welcome."
Nara hung back to report some of the conversation to Bylo.
"She's a bodyguard, Bylo. And used to work for a baron or something."
"Might be handy," he said. "But too much is happening, and too fast." He looked at Anne, who trundled along a dozen paces behind them. "Keep an eye on both of them, Nara. They might be helping us, and they might not. Hard to be sure."
Bylo was clearly still suspicious, and he had always been that way, but Nara was satisfied. With new allies, and Mykel's ability to heal himself, they would better be able to avoid capture, wouldn't they? And this strange old woman had offered to train them. Did she mean to teach them to fight or to use magic? She seemed to know about Bylo's runes, but did she also know about Nara's talents?
What would it be like to learn about magic? What would such training require? Bylo always seemed worried that Nara would be put into combat, forced to use her magic for war. But this woman seemed nothing like a warrior, and Nara wondered what it would be like to explore her magic in a way that didn't hurt anyone.
But they couldn't hide and train forever. Afterward, they'd have to do something, to go somewhere, to live. What would that life look like? Nara thought of her sister and wondered if she still lived. Perhaps she should go to Fairmont, to the orphanage where Bylo had found her, and begin a search for her sister anew. If she gained skill with her magic by then, maybe she could defend herself enough to avoid capture or being placed into the armies. Bylo seemed to think she was powerful, and hadn't he said exactly that?
"Nara, you aren't gifted. And you aren't blessed. I truly don't know what you are."
What could she do with her talents? She thought of how people in villages like Dimmitt starved while rich folks lived such happy lives. Could she change that somehow? There must have been a reason Dei had created her, a reason that was bigger than running and hiding, but it all seemed overwhelming, and she wondered if she could embrace it. Whatever it was that she was meant for, perhaps training would be the first step.
As she turned her thoughts to Anne, her curiosity was sparked. Who was the strange woman who wandered into their camp today, fed them some breakfast, and was now leading them off somewhere? How did she know things, and what was she getting out of this deal?
Nara hung back to speak with the old woman. "Where are you from, Anne?"
"North."
"How far north?"
No response. Nara hoped she wasn't annoying the woman. "Do you live alone?"
"Yes."
Anne clearly wasn't accustomed to having people around.
"I was just wondering about you. I hope you don't mind."
Anne turned to her and cracked a smile. "I don't mind. Go ahead with your questions, little one."
Nara warmed at the smile and saw Bylo slow his pace as if to hang back and eavesdrop on their conversation. He worried about everything, even an innocent conversation with an old woman in the middle of nowhere. Silly man.
"You live near Eastway?"
"Yes, I have a little place on a hill near the abbey."
"Do you work at the abbey?"
"Sometimes. They let me tend the grounds. Raking leaves and trimming trees… that sort of thing."
"Do you have a husband? Friends?"
Anne turned to her with an odd look, which turned into a smile.
"I'm sorry, I don't mean to pry, I just…"
"It's okay. You are the curious one, though, aren't you? No, I'm not married. And I don't have any friends."
"That's terrible. I mean, aren't you lonely?"
"It's not so bad."
Nara wondered what had possessed this lonely old groundskeeper to walk so far to meet travelers and guide them north. To train them? Keep them safe? It seems that Anne was keeping secrets.
Nara stopped asking questions and let the conversation die. After a few moments, she turned to look at Anne with her other sight. She looked different. Her light was brighter than a normal person. She was clearly gifted.
For most of her life, Nara had lived in a quiet, poor village, uninvolved with anything interesting. In the last few days, however, she had become surrounded by strangeness.
"Thank you for talking with me, Anne."
"You're welcome."
Nara moved faster to catch up with Bylo. "How are you faring?"
"I'll be okay," he said. "Have an interesting chat?"
"She's odd, but she seems nice. I kinda like her."
Bylo said nothing, and Nara didn't know if it was because he didn't like Anne or he was feeling discomfort from the endless walking. It didn't get easier for him, and he often mentioned the ache in his old bones, seeming to welcome every short break they took.
They passed the first night in a dark wood that was free of any significant underbrush. At Anne's guidance, they had placed their bedrolls close together for warmth but did not start a fire until they woke. "Too dangerous," she had admonished. After eating oats boiled with water from a nearby creek, they set about again.
It went on like this for many days. They were never more than a mile from the road but rarely came close to it, and occasionally they heard travelers and horses passing in the distance. They followed rivers and walked through woods, avoiding open meadows or flat plains where they could be spied from afar.
One day, Mykel stuck close to Nara, who had been unusually quiet. When she tired, Mykel reached out and held her hand, but she eventually stumbled and would have collapsed if Mykel had not caught her. She had succumbed to the pain of another agonizing headache, and Mykel must have sensed it long before she fell. She was grateful.
Mykel carried her for several miles to the shelter of a hollow near a creek where they finally rested. The pain in his arms and back must have been grueling, but he did not complain.
During each day's travel, Nara continued to have conversations with Anne as she gently probed the woman's past. Anne was resistant at first but eventually warmed up to Nara, engaging her on a deeper level. Anne told of the clerics in the abbey at Eastway and how she tended the grounds there. By the way she talked about the people she watched grow up in the area, Nara figured that she must have been employed in that capacity for a long time, but Anne didn't say exactly how many years. Anne also told stories of a young woman in Ankar, far away. She spoke of the peaceful, native peoples in the Windblown Wastes out west, the barbarians of the north, of old kings that never existed and more recent ones that had. Nara couldn't decide whether Anne fancied herself a storyteller or a historian, but there was much more to her than Nara originally deemed.
Through it al
l, Nara spent more time listening than talking. She did ask some questions, however. Questions about Dei, Kai, and the church. Others were about heroes and their sweethearts. Anne occasionally chuckled with a warm, hearty laugh, and Nara smiled whenever she heard it. Other times Anne would disturbingly talk to the air, or the sky, or a tree, with words that were alternating with irreverence, scorn, or resignation. Odd woman. As she talked, Anne would often go off on a tangent about a particular person, detailing what they liked to eat or who they often argued with.
After more than a week of traveling, they finally arrived at their destination, walking up the side of a large hill to a cabin set above the trees. "I built it here so I could see the horizon," Anne said to them. "It's breezy, but the view is worth it."
And it was. It bore a northern exposure that Bylo said would hinder growing crops, but the landscape took their breath away. To the northeast, one could see the Abbey of Eastway only a few miles away. Didn't Bylo mention that his friend, Brother Alen, was an abbot there? Anne had directed them to Brother Alen's doorstep, Bylo's original destination. Coincidence?
To the northwest, one could see the Twins, a grand sight. One mountain was flat at the top, the other sharp and pointed. Both were covered with snow and somewhat obscured by high clouds. They couldn't make out Fairmont from here, but the mountain peaks reminded Nara of how dangerously close they were to the seat of power in this land. Probably less than a week of travel and one could be in the capital with the queen, the archbishop, and much of the army. Just as quickly, those people could come here.
"On the south side of the hill there is a broad meadow where I plant," Anne said. Her manner seemed more youthful than when they had first met. “I could use some help tending it if anyone is willing. Green beans, squash, carrots, and potatoes. Lots of taters." A groan at the end revealed she had been overwhelmed with potatoes of late.
"Enjoy yourselves," Anne said, "but don't leave the hill. We sleep in the cabin tonight, and tomorrow we begin."
"Begin what?" asked Nara.
"You'll find out," she said, grinning.
Nara left to wander the woods on her own and Mykel's curiosity about Anne moved him to spend some time with her. The two didn't talk much as they tended her garden, low on the southern side of the hill. He had always been drawn to physical activity and silence, and gardening provided both. Pulling weeds, he quietly pondered the differences between him and Nara. Not merely the contrast in their appearance and stature but in their manner as well.
"She can't love you yet, Mykel." It was the first thing he heard Anne say in over an hour. "Not like you want."
The sudden personal intrusion brought him pause.
"I know," he said. "I'll wait."
Over the days of travel, he had come to learn that Anne knew a lot. About everyone. Although he couldn't articulate why, he knew Anne was right about this, too. He and Nara were both young, but not as young as some lovers were. It wasn't their age that presented the problem, it was something more.
"What is it about her?" Mykel asked, eyebrows raised. "How is she so different?"
"Good question, and it's hard to put a finger on. Yet the separation of Nara from her twin has left a void in her. A brokenness."
"Yeah, she told me about a twin. She just found out recently. Bylo kept that from her for years."
He wondered what it had been like for Nara, so many years of wondering on her past, but Bylo refusing to share it. She hadn't spoken of it often, keeping her frustrations quiet. And her magic even more so. Magic! The friend he had spent so much time with had kept big secrets from him.
He wondered if he was untrustworthy in her eyes. Was there was something he could have done, or said, that would have encouraged her to share her burdens? Instead, he had been oblivious, always interested in their island adventures, or swimming, or climbing mountains. He should have listened to the concerns on her heart. He had been a fool.
"Sometimes she feels the pain of others," he said, returning to the work. "I've seen her tend to the hurts of animals and village kids. When they suffered, she flinched, as if she felt the pain herself. Is that part of her magic?"
"Yes. And it may be why she is slow to defend herself. As if she would suffer the pain either way and refuses to be the cause of it. You must protect her during this time."
"Will she ever be stronger?"
"It's not about strength, Mykel. In some ways, it makes her stronger than any of us. But I understand what you mean, and I don't know what to tell you."
It was the first time he had heard Anne say she didn't know something, and Mykel wondered if she really didn't know or simply wouldn't share it with him. "She's special," he said.
"I like her too," Anne said, smiling at him.
Evening approached. The sun dipped low on the horizon, and he and Anne had finished their work in the garden patch. They returned wordlessly back to the cabin. Mykel hoped for an early bedtime—the work had fatigued him, and he longed to sleep. As they walked up the hill, he thought again about Sammy, hoping his brother was not suffering Pop's wrath in Mykel's absence. He would return to Dimmitt someday. Soon, if he could.
19
Pursuit
Kayna was sitting quietly on a landing above the queen's throne, thinking what it might be like to sit in the grand seat. How would it feel to rule the Great Land? Kings and queens of old had reigned supreme, and though political power largely rested with the council now, would it always have to be that way? The position of monarch, Queen, grand mistress over all, could it be hers? It presented an interesting temptation.
But Papa was in the way. Rich and powerful, the only blessed in the land would be an obvious barrier to her rise, and it would be years before she could surpass him. She didn't understand her powers very well, didn't know how to find more symbols, and there was nobody she could ask.
She would be greater than them all, eventually, and it was difficult to shake that ambition and find the patience she needed. And that was if Papa didn't have some purpose for her that she had not yet fathomed. She didn't know what plans he had, or really if he had any plans at all. He seemed content to keep her, as he did many other things. Art covered the walls of their home, he owned many businesses, people owed him favors, but he seemed to do little with any of it. It was almost as if the joy for him was simply having things of value. Was Kayna just another treasure in his collection? Another trophy to make him feel important?
As she sat there, a side door opened and Papa came in, looked about, but didn't see Kayna on the landing. She held her breath and instinctively suppressed her aura, hoping Papa wouldn't discover her. He walked over to gaze upon the throne from the floor below. After a moment, he looked about again, then walked up the three small steps and sat in the ornate chair, hands moving across the plush velvet cushion and gold-inlaid arms.
A few moments later, the main doors opened and General Cross came in, the large man walking quickly toward the throne as Papa stood.
"The latest message from Gwyn Khoury reports that they left Dimmitt and went to Junn eight days ago," Papa said. "The girl is accompanied by an old man and a young one. Find her. Bring her back. I don't care what it takes."
Kayna wondered what girl they spoke of. Who could be so important that Papa and General Cross had met in secret to speak of her?
"Minister, why not just have the watcher bring her back?"
"I'm not confident she would succeed, General."
The odd tone accompanying Papa's response struck Kayna. He had sent a gifted after a girl, but that wasn't enough?
"Understood. I leave in an hour. I'll send word to the windblown garrisons; many have tried to hide in the wastes. I'll order the garrison at Ankar to send men along the coastal trail in case they went west from Junn," Cross said. "I'll take the southern…"
"No!" Papa said. "Send no word to any of our outposts. Tell nobody. Take one man with you, no others."
"Yes, Minister."
After Vorick left the hall, Cr
oss was left to wonder still more at the odd circumstances. He began to have the feeling that he was not alone. He looked around the room, then up. He found the culprit sitting quietly on a landing that led to an upper passageway. It was the minister's daughter.
Upon discovery, Kayna stood and gave a shallow smile, clearly having overheard their brief exchange. Did she know he intended to retrieve her sister? Vorick had voiced his interest in the twin years ago but had sworn Cross to silence on the topic. The secrecy, coupled with his concern that Khoury could not handle the mission alone could mean that the girl was important and not just because she was his daughter. She must also have magic. Did both girls have magic?
Cross gave a nod to Kayna, then turned to exit the room.
The trip south would be at a breakneck pace, for he had lost much time. He selected Lieutenant Jordan Almit to accompany him. Almit was the son of one of Cross' captains and one of the more obedient young soldiers assigned to the garrison at Fairmont. He was also an excellent rider, and Cross could not suffer a laggard on the road.
On the first day, they made more than forty miles before camping and the horses looked as if they would expire if they took even one step more. On the second day, they made another thirty miles before exchanging mounts with a farrier in East Junction.
They inquired along the way with everyone they met but gathered no evidence of their quarry. Cross remained confident that the watcher's information was solid, but circumstances could change and they were days behind.
Day three brought trouble. After Cross' horse threw a shoe, bad weather overcame them. Winds whipped through the trees and along the road, chilling both men and beasts. They limped into Took, but Cross necessarily took pains to avoid being noticed by anyone in the local baron's employ. A low profile was necessary; he had no desire to invite the minister's anger by raising suspicions among local nobles on what was supposed to be a discreet errand.
Cross sent Almit to the local post office to check for a dispatch from Gwyn Khoury, but the soldier found nothing. In an attempt to remain undetected, Cross spent time in a dirty inn on a bad side of the city waiting for the weather to clear. He remained secluded for two days, wary that his distinctive size and bearing would give him away. He was ill-suited for work such as this and cursed Vorick for sending him on this errand.
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