The Road To Avea

by Lynn Lorenz

  "Aye, since we were children, there has never been another. But he can't be mine. His father would never approve." She hung her head.

  "And you love her?" Sarah asked Cole.

  "Aye." His hands were in fists, as if prepared to fight for her.

  "Good. Now, let's see what I can do. Just go along with me."

  The two nodded.

  Stefan helped the old farmer to his feet.

  Sarah returned to Stefan and the farmer. Watkins finished with Lord Blake and joined them.

  Sarah cleared her throat. "I'm arresting Flora Murphy and Cole Blake for breaking the fence and letting the bull into the pasture with the cows."

  Watkins stared at her in surprise. Stefan kept his face neutral.

  "What?" her father cried out. "No, that can't be. Not my girl!"

  "Have you lost your mind, Patroller?" Lord Blake advanced on her. "I'll have your commission. How dare you accuse my son?"

  "Despite both your protests, they are the guilty parties." Pulling out her wand, she summoned manacles from the storeroom at the castle. They appeared in her hand and she clasped them on each of them. Then, she summoned two lengths of rope. She tied the girl to one and the young man to the other, and started to walk toward the fence, leading the two behind her.

  "Sir?" Watkins looked at Stefan for guidance.

  "It seems Patroller Tallow has solved the case, Watkins. Let's go."

  They followed her, with Lord Blake and the farmer scrambling after them, protesting and swearing their children's innocence.

  Sarah squeezed through the fence and waited until the couple had climbed over. Gathering the reins of her horse, she swung up into the saddle and adjusted her damned skirts again.

  "No, no, don't take my girl. She's my very heart." Murphy sobbed.

  "Father, I'm so sorry," Flora whispered, her head down.

  "Son, what were you thinking? Why?" Blake caught his son by the arm. "How could you betray me?"

  "How could I let her father's farm go under, Father? I love her. Without her, I'm nothing." Cole's eyes burned with his passion.

  "You love her?" Blake shook his head, refusing to believe.

  "Aye. Now, if I must be punished for my crime, so be it." He jutted his chin out, ready to accept his punishment.

  Stefan and Watkins climbed onto their mounts.

  "No, there has to be a way." The farmer fisted his daughter's skirts in his hands.

  "Father, please." Flora's blue eyes were red from crying. "We must face our punishment."

  "What will happen to them?" Lord Blake turned his face up to Stefan, his hand on Stefan's boot, holding it tightly.

  The inspector looked down on the man and shrugged. "Gaol most likely for your son. Penalties, certainly, for the girl. You must be compensated your stud fees, right?" Stefan flicked his glance to Sarah. He understood what she was doing.

  "Fees?" The farmer's face turned red. "I can't possibly pay them all. I have so little, but take it all, and just give me back my girl."

  "I can't do that, sir." Stefan shook his head. "Lord Blake has brought charges. The magistrate must dismiss them. Or..." Stefan sat back in the saddle and considered the situation.

  "Yes, what? Have you a solution?" Lord Blake seemed eager to grasp at any offered straw, no matter what.

  "This wouldn't be an issue if it were a family matter," Stefan said. "However, since your families are not bound together, the magistrate must decide their fate."

  The two men looked crushed.

  Sarah leaned over toward Lord Blake. "A wedding ceremony is preferable to a trial in my book." She shrugged, turned her horse to the path, and jerked the rope. The couple stumbled after her, the ropes pulling their manacled hands out in front.

  To see his son dragged away like a common thief must have been more than Lord Blake could stand. "Stop! Stop!"

  Sarah pulled up and looked back. "Aye, Lord Blake?"

  "Let them go. This is a family matter." It was almost a whisper.

  "Indeed. How so, sir?" Stefan waited.

  "They are betrothed." Lord Blake looked up into his face, resignation in his voice.

  Stefan raised his eyebrow. "In that case, Patroller Tallow, you may release them."

  She climbed off her horse, untied the ropes, and with a wave of her wand she sent the manacles back to the castle.

  The couple embraced as the two fathers eyed each other. Sarah climbed back on her horse, adjusted her skirts, and led the way down the path.

  Watkins urged his horse forward to ride at Sarah's side again. "Well done, Sarah. A remarkable feat. Not only are you beautiful, but you're clever as well. For a while there, I thought we'd have to arrest everyone." He winked at her.

  Sarah turned to look back at Stefan. "Sometimes, we don't need advanced majik abilities to solve a case."

  Stefan's eyebrow rose. To her great surprise, he gave her a half bow, his hand over his heart.

  Chapter 7

  Stefan sat on a hard wooden bench at the front of the chapel. He leaned forward and rested his head on his hands as they clutched the back of the next bench.

  "My One God, hear my prayer." He fell silent.

  The priest watched him from the back of the chapel. What had brought the inspector to prayers again so soon? This can't still be about the dead man, the priest thought to himself. Perhaps some new difficulty?

  Shaking his head, he moved on to his duties. The supply of candles needed to be restocked. Then he should clean the great stained glass windows. He'd have to drag the ladder out for that chore.

  After praying, Stefan leaned back in the bench and opened his eyes. The priest had already climbed the ladder, a bucket hung from a rope around his neck, and a rag draped over his shoulder.

  "You could do that much easier with majik or call an addler to do it, Holy One." Stefan smiled at him.

  "Aye, I could, but then where would the honor be?" The priest shrugged, content in his work.

  "Is that the secret to honor? It's in the doing?"

  "Honor is in the doing and in the being."

  The priest washed the colored glass depicting the great thunderclap of majik that had split the world apart. The side panels depicted the two worlds, one majik and the other non-majik. Both were filled with men, women and children, their arms outstretched, being pulled from one world to the other without choice, or being left behind and weeping for lost loved ones.

  "Honor." Stefan grunted. "It is all I have, it seems."

  "Indeed? Is it really all?" The priest dried the glass with a towel.

  "For me, yes."

  "A life with honor is still a good life. Is that all you want?" He started to climb down the ladder.

  "What I want is not available to me." His voice held resignation.

  "Oh." The priest nodded knowingly. "A woman." He folded the ladder.

  Stefan tilted his head and lifted his hand in a gesture of agreement.

  The priest put the ladder in a small closet at the back of the chapel and then hurried to Stefan's bench. "May I?" The priest indicated the bench. "Is she taken? There is no honor in wanting another man's woman."

  "Aye, please. No, she is not taken, yet."

  "There is competition?"

  "There can be no competition if you are not in the race." Stefan rubbed the day's stubble on his chin.

  "Why are you not in the race? You seem fit enough to go the distance." He chuckled.

  Stefan was silent.

  The priest closed his eyes and then spoke. "Are you afraid? There is no shame in fear." The priest continued, "Even the bravest men still fear."

  "Aye, to fail and have all my fears realized." He shook his head.

  "And yet, you walk willingly into battle. You are no coward, Stefan."

  "If you have nothing to live for, what would be the loss?" He looked up at the crossed wands that hung above the altar.

  "To fight again?" The priest sighed. "You are oath sworn to fight until the battle is won. Why won't you at least try?
Is the prize not worth the attempt?"

  "Worth more than I can offer." Stefan slapped his thigh and stood.

  "Our greatest wealth is what lies inside, Stefan. We all have much to offer."

  Stefan nodded and pressed a gold coin into the priest's hands. The priest accepted it and made the four sacred signs: mind, heart, strength, and faith as he watched Stefan leave.

  * * * *

  Rolf looked up as Sarah entered his office.

  "I'm ready, if you are," she said.

  "Good." He slid the papers he worked on into his desk drawer, then stood and came around to stand next to her. "The spell for teleporting is not complicated exactly; it just requires a very focused thought process."

  Sarah nodded and drew her wand.

  "Wait. Let's work on it without the wand. You should be able to go a small distance without it." He motioned for her to put her wand away. Then he guided her to stand in front of him and turned her so her back was to his front.

  Coming very close to her, but not touching, he could smell the scent of her hair flooding his nostrils. Most of the time, he kept his ability to sense all manners of odors under control, but now, he opened himself to it. Sarah's scent rolled over him and, for a moment, he reveled in it. Then, having his fill, he closed himself off, and let a slow breath out.

  "Now, we'll work on going from this side of the room to the other." His voice was soft. "For now, you'll need to see it in your mind. Look closely at the wall, then shut your eyes and see it in your mind."

  Sarah nodded, then her eyelids fell, her breathing steady.

  "Can you see it?" Rolf asked.

  "I can."

  "Good. Now, pull your majik, and throw it to that place. It should drag you along with it."

  Sarah's chest expanded as she took a deep breath and then held very still. Rolf felt the rise in pressure begin and he held his breath, waiting for her to disappear.

  The pressure faded.

  Sarah opened her eyes and seemed surprised to see she hadn't moved an inch. "Damn it, Rolf, it didn't work."

  Rolf stepped back and his lips twisted in thought. "Try again, Sarah. You almost had it."

  Again, she closed her eyes, concentrated. Again, the pressure rose, hovered, then faded, as if sucked from the room.

  Her sigh of exasperation bounced off the walls.

  "Again. This time, more power, and use your wand," Rolf coached her. "Perhaps if I take your hand, to boost you?"

  "No, I want to do this on my own." Sarah pulled out her wand and clutched it tightly.

  "Ready?" He swallowed and watched her.

  Closing her eyes, her breathing deepened, held, the pressure rose...higher...and faded out like a snuffed candle.

  "Damn it!" Sarah stomped and turned to face Rolf. "It's no good. I did everything you said. Gathered my power, saw the wall and threw it." She shook her head. "I've been too long without majik, Rolf."

  He could see the frustration in her blue eyes. "Nonsense. It'll come; you just have to practice, that's all." He reached out, took her hand and gave it a squeeze.

  It seemed to comfort her because she smiled at him and gave him a responding squeeze.

  "What if it doesn't?" She gave him a questioning look.

  "It will. I can sense your power. You'll master this. Maybe not now or tomorrow, but you'll get it."

  She slumped against the desk and ran a hand over her forehead. "Takes it out of you."

  "Aye, teleporting is a huge drain on our power and our physical bodies. That's why we can't 'port very far or carry much weight."

  "And yet, addlers do it with ease." She shrugged.

  "Addlers do everything with ease." He grinned at her.

  "Rolf!" She laughed. "And often, I understand."

  Now it was his turn to laugh.

  "Thank you, for showing me how to do it. I promise to practice." She pushed off from the desk. "I've got to go now; I have to prepare for my first class." She strode to the door, opened it, gave him a nod, and slipped out.

  Rolf went to his chair and sat. He opened his drawer and pulled out his sheet. Picking up his pen, he tapped it on his chin.

  Sarah's scent had been lovely, yet it hadn't stirred him, not more than any other woman he'd scented. He'd been with women before, although none recently. And no one had cared for him, not since he'd been a young man. Even though the patrol housed women, none of them had moved him or, more importantly, shown any interest him.

  He'd decided years ago that it was too dangerous to involve a woman in his life, so it was just as well. He'd accepted it, knew it was best, yet had never stopped hoping.

  Sarah was a beautiful woman, practically in his arms, and yet, he'd felt nothing. The reason flitted across his mind, and he gave a rueful laugh.

  No matter what, he couldn't help but think of Sarah as Stefan's woman and as such, strictly off limits.

  * * * *

  "Some of you may be wondering why you have to attend these classes, and what I could possibly teach you. Some of you may be thinking I don't know what I'm doing, or that I don't have the necessary majik skills to be standing before you." Sarah watched as they listened, some of them nodding and smiling, others looking uncomfortable, and some standing at ease. "Those doubts may or may not be true, however, I hope to change your minds.

  "Today, I'm going to give you a demonstration of our new tactics. One of you is going to have a chance to blast me." Sarah walked before their closed ranks, hands behind her back. As she paced, her long braid swung with each step. "I need a volunteer."

  "Hugo, you go first. You're the best marksman." The others pushed the reluctant young patroller to the front of the group, cheering him on.

  "Now, when you are ready, call out." Sarah gave him a nod of encouragement.

  Hugo moved to the far side of the large room and took his stance, legs spread to brace his bulldog body upright, and his wand held stiffly out in front at chest height, just as he and all the other patrollers had been trained. The formality of the patrol seeped through, even into their fighting.

  It had been something Thatcher had recognized as in need of updating, and when she'd shown him what she'd been trained to do off-world, he'd made a leap of faith that her skills could advance the patrol's training.

  Sarah moved to the opposite side of the room. About thirty feet separated them. More than enough space, she estimated.

  "Ready!" Hugo took aim.

  Sarah crouched and sprang. The blast from his wand hit the wall where she had stood. They watched as she did hand springs across the room, Hugo's blasts trailing after her. The group held its collective breath as she approached the far wall. Another flip and she would run into it. Sarah came out of the handspring running and leapt at the wall.

  Running up the wall almost ten feet, she pushed off with her legs, flipping backward, and twisting her body over. Hugo advanced, but his blasts trailed her. Landing on her feet directly before him, she pulled her arm back, and then thrust it forward as she gave a sharp yell. Her hand, palm facing forward, connected with his chest, and he flew backward. As he hit the ground, his wand flew out of his hand and rolled across the stone floor.

  The room erupted in enthusiastic hoots and cheers.

  Hugo's friends pulled him upright, brushed off, and someone returned his wand to him. "By the One God, I've never seen anything like it." He shook his head. "My head buzzes as if it were filled with bees." He slipped his wand back into its sheath.

  "That is how you're going to learn to evade." Sarah looked at each of them in turn. "I want two of you to try to dodge, while I attempt to score a hit. Volunteers?"

  Looks were exchanged; voices grumbled. At last, two others stepped forward.

  "I used to be pretty fast at school," one of the men said.

  "I'll give it a try. I don't think I can do what you did, though," the other added.

  "Try your best. On my mark." Sarah pulled her wand from the hip sheath she was wearing and nodded to the men.

  They
took off in different directions. The cheering of the other patrollers echoed off the stone walls of the room. Sarah spun around and fired, dropping her first target. As the other man dodged around the room, she shadowed his path. Firing in mid-stride, she knocked him against the wall. As he slid to a sitting position, the others ran to him to help him up.

  When they gathered around her this time, there was a feeling of excitement in the air. At least she had their attention. Respect, hopefully, would come later.

  "That was a lesson in accurate targeting. In order to develop the necessary hand-eye coordination, we're going to be practicing every day. I want each of you to find a partner to work with in your spare time on this skill.

  "As you can see, being able to evade can be as important as being able to hit a moving target. I know you've been taught to stand still and fire. So have your opponents. Evading can keep you alive long enough to use your targeting skills. Combine evasion, targeting and teleporting, and you can imagine the advantage these skills would give you over an ordinarily trained adversary."

  "Teleporting?" Gareth Watkins stepped forward. "Isn't that cheating?"

  "No. Staying alive isn't cheating. Currently, we use teleporting as a way to get from one place to another. I propose we use it as a defensive tactic. Instead of using it to escape, I propose we use it to reposition ourselves to get the upper hand in a fight."

  "But we can't just keep 'porting all over the place. It'll drain us," he argued.

  "It shouldn't. You're only going small distances, something I understand can be accomplished even without a wand for most people. During a fight, you'd be in close proximity to your opponent, so the leaps won't be over great distances."

  Gareth seemed to think as the others watched him. As one of the more senior patrollers, the others looked to him for leadership. If she could convince him, she might bring the others along with him.

  "Well, I think it might work." He nodded, giving her a hard look. "I'm willing to give it a try. What about you?" He turned to the others and waited.

  Some of them nodded and gave assent, others looked as if they still needed convincing, but all of them looked interested.

  "That's all I ask. Now, I want everyone to work for the next hour on targeting skills. Work alone or in pairs. Make it a game, if you want. Enchant something to fly randomly and use it as a target."