Mitchell Graham - [Fifth Ring 03] - The Ancient Legacy(V1.0)

by Mitchell Graham

  Her mouth dropped open. "You're leaving?"

  Mathew smiled. "I think it's for the best. You're all quite busy and I see there's been a new addition to your family since I've been gone. What's his name?"

  "Bran," Lara replied softly.

  The mild expression Mathew had assumed promptly dissolved. "Bran?"

  "Yes, Mathew."

  The two of them held each other's gaze for several sec­onds until Mathew broke it off. He looked down at the floor and smiled. "That's a good name."

  "I know."

  "Well, Master Bran," he said, turning back to the boy and dropping down to one knee. "It has been a pleasure meeting you." He held out his hand, and to his surprise, Bran took it. "You have a wonderful mother and a won­derful family. I'm envious.

  "Harry's?" he asked Martin.

  Martin Palmer gave him a tight-lipped smile and shook his head.

  Mathew frowned and turned to Amanda. "This is Gar-rick and Nell's son?"

  Her eyes flicked first to Lara then back to his, and she also shook her head.

  He didn't think it was possible to feel any stupider than he had for the last few minutes, but there it was. Bran was Lara's child!

  Astonished, Mathew twisted around and looked over his shoulder. His mouth fell open. "Lara, you're a mother?"

  An expression he'd never seen before crossed Lara's face and she nodded. A faint smile played at the corners of her mouth. Mathew's laugh was rueful and he turned back to the boy, studying him more closely. He should have seen the resemblance earlier.

  "He has the most beautiful blue eyes," he said, trying to buy himself time.

  "Just like his father's," Lara whispered.

  The fact that Collin had brown eyes didn't occur to Mathew for several seconds.

  20

  Devondale

  Father Thomas sat in the parlor of his home, fret-ting about his young friend. He would have gone with him to see Lara and her family, but a man had to do some things alone. This was one of them. Mathew and Lara had been in love almost since they were children, and they de­served a little time to themselves. On top of that, he was privy to certain things that Mathew was not. The first was apparent, the second less so.

  From the letters he'd received from Lara over the years, he knew that Mathew now had a son. Over the past few days he had wanted to tell Mathew about it, but the timing was never right. Delain was also aware of it and urged him to avoid Devondale completely, but he had not the heart to do so. A dozen times he had debated the wis­dom of coming here. Perhaps, he thought, his hesitation about telling Mathew the truth was because he was the one who had set him on his course four years ago.

  What other choice did he have? Two things had been clear to the priest at the time. The battle at Fanshaw Castle was lost the moment Teanna d'Elso had entered it, and un­less Mathew found a way to recover his ring, the downfall of the West was just as inevitable. To his chagrin, both predictions had come to pass in varying degrees.

  In a short while Mathew Lewin would learn that he had a son, if he had not already done so. He would proba­bly be furious at not being told the truth. That was to be expected, but it was something that couldn't be helped.

  The problem now would to be to get the boy to finish what they'd started, and that promised to be no easy task. Delain needed his military skills, and Mathew needed him to make sure he got to Nyngary.

  Father Thomas knew how strong Mathew's sense of re­sponsibility was. He only hoped it was strong enough to pull him away from his newly discovered family. He had heard Karas Duren's tired refrain about "one country, one rule" many times. It was pure artifice, nothing more than a clever way to hide the real reason behind their invasion in the first place—power. That's what it always came down to. Revenge for their father's defeats might have been a factor in Eric and Armand Duren's thinking, but power lay at the core of it.

  Once people had tasted freedom and learned what it was like to lead their own lives, to be able to travel from province to province without a pass, to live where and how they pleased, their decisions were dangerous for those who would deny thein those rights. And then there was Lara.

  Having just gotten him back, would she let him go again? Certainly the child deserved a father. What child didn't? As Siward Thomas sat there in the dark, a conver­sation he and Mathew had a long time ago came back to him. He had told the boy that there were times when the needs of the many outweighed the needs of the few. As cynical as it was, nothing had changed in that respect.

  Father Thomas wasn't proud of himself for withhold­ing information about Mathew's son, but he was con­vinced that he had made the right decision. Many pieces of a carefully laid puzzle were just now falling into place. From the messages Paul Teller had been able to smug­gle in to him over the years, he knew that Sennia's Ecu­menical Council was aware of their mistake in supporting Edward Guy and Ferdinand Willis almost from the begin­ning. Slowly but surely priests throughout the country had begun a campaign to rectify the situation. Because they

  couldn't preach rebellion or engage in open acts of sedi­tion, sermons were written to get the message out to the people. Curriculums in school classes and at the univer­sity were adjusted to teach what happens when the law was bent to serve the purposes of a few. Poems and songs began to circulate throughout Sennia on that very subject, and the same thing had happened in Elgaria. The Var-gothans, of course, did their best to censor them, but had met with little success.

  It had taken his brethren almost four years to motivate the people of Sennia to act. Guy's announcement of a new trial for Gawl was the spark that ignited the blaze. Riots broke out all across the country, and Guy was now fighting to retain his position. That fire would soon spread to El­garia, no matter what the Durens now called it.

  Four years of planning had thrown Sennia into a civil war. Once Gawl was back in power, he and Delain would launch their attack on the mercenaries, with Mirdan sup­porting them from the west. The war was coming.

  And at the heart of it was Mathew Lewin, an awkward young man he had sworn to protect. Without him to nul­lify the Nyngary princess, they would be back where they started.

  Yes, Mathew will be angry. He has every right to be, but the needs of the many—

  A creak on the steps outside brought his head around, and he saw the silhouette of a man standing at the front door.

  "Hello the house. Is there anyone in there?"

  He knew that voice. "I'm in here, Akin."

  The figure outside froze and then the door opened slightly and a blond head poked itself in. "Father Thomas?"

  "It's me. Come in."

  The door opened the rest of the way and an open-mouthed Akin Gibb stood there on the porch staring at Fa­ther Thomas in disbelief. The priest, chuckling, got up and went to him, and both men embraced. When they separated, Akin closed the door behind him and pulled the shade down. He did the same with the windows. It was a curious thing to do and Father Thomas looked to his old friend for an explanation.

  "I saw the horses tied up in front of the church and came by to see who was here," Akin said. "I'm sorry, Fa­ther, but Devondale may not be safe for you."

  Father Thomas's eyebrows went up. "Indeed? Have they filled the job?"

  "No, no. Nothing like that," Akin said. "I've been do­ing the Sixth Day services since you've been gone. Actu­ally, I'm getting pretty good at it, if I do say so myself. Give me a moment. I want to put the horses around back. Was there someone else with you?"

  Father Thomas considered his friend briefly. "I'll tell you when you return. Go take care of the horses."

  Akin looked like he wanted to say something more, then changed his mind and slipped out the back door of the cottage. He returned three minutes later. "You are the last person I expected to see."

  "Not the last," Father Thomas said. "Mathew is with me." If Akin Gibb appeared shocked before, it was nothing compared to his reaction now. He took a step back. "Dear Lord. We thought he was dead. We were told�
��"

  "I know," Father Thomas said. He took Akin by the el­bow and led him over to the kitchen table. The priest hooked his leg around a chair and pulled it out. Once Akin sat down, he went to the pantry found a bottle of wine and two glasses and came back to join him. "Mathew is alive?" Akin asked. "Mathew is alive." He worked the cork out and sniffed the contents of the bottle. "Hmm, still good, I think." He poured each of them a glass. "Supposing you tell me what's going on."

  Akin took a second to collect himself. "Seeing you was shock enough, but this ... I mean it's wonderful, Father."

  "But. . . ?"

  "But there have been changes since you've been gone. I don't know how much you know, but there have definitely been changes—few of them for the better."

  Father Thomas laced his fingers together and rested his chin on the back of his hands. "All right. Tell me."

  "When I said it wasn't safe, I meant it. There are infor­mants in town now who work with the Vargothans." The priest blinked and sat back in his chair. "I'm quite serious. Devondale is not the same place it was four years ago. Everything has changed." "Go on."

  "To begin with, there are a lot more people living here than we ever had before. We have people from Bremen, Broken Hill, Tyraine, Elberton—you name it. It all started after the invasion. The whole lower third of the country has had to move north, Father. Our population is probably three times what it was."

  "You mentioned something about informants." Akin nodded. "We don't know all of them for certain, but it's a safe bet the Vargothans are using them. People who have spoken out against the government have been either arrested or they simply disappear in the night—and that includes women. If any of them own a business, the Vargothans confiscate it and give to another. They come up with a new law or a new tax every other week."

  Father Thomas's face was somber. "I hadn't expected this. I suppose we'd better get Mathew back here as soon as possible."

  "He's gone to see Lara, hasn't he?" "Correct."

  "He should be safe. Martin and Amanda know what to do. I imagine he went to the store and not her home."

  "I didn't know Lara had a home," said Father Thomas, "but then the last correspondence I had from her was nearly three years ago."

  "She and Collin have been living together. They're pre­tending to be married."

  "What?" Father Thomas said. "Why in the world would they do that?"

  "Because single men and women under the age of thirty-five are subject to conscription. The men are sent to serve in the military for a period of two years. The women serve the Vargothan officers in other ways."

  Akin saw the muscles in the priest's jaw clench and he put his hand over Father Thomas's.

  "I'm sorry to have to tell you this, but you'd have found out eventually."

  It took Father Thomas time to recover. He had been back less than two weeks, and if Delain was aware of the changes, he'd deliberately chosen not to mention them.

  An interesting world we're creating. Everybody uses everybody.

  Father Thomas shook his head. "This is wrong," he said softly. The words were spoken more to himself than to Akin.

  "I know, but what can we do about it?"

  "Hopefully, a great deal. That's why I've come back. By the way, I saw Fergus's grave near the maple tree, Akin. I'm very sorry. He was a good man. How did it happen?"

  "The second month after Vargoth invaded they sent a column against us and there was a fight at Westrey Bridge. We held them off for two days, but there were too many. We lost half our people .. . Lucas Emson, Silas Alman, my brother Fergus, Truemen Palmer, Randal Wain, Carly Coombs and his father Bertram White .. ."

  As Akin recited the names his gaze grew unfocused and he stared at a point over Father Thomas's shoulder. By the time he finished his voice was barely audible.

  "I did the best I could," he said, "but in the end the only option was to surrender. It was the only way I could save what was left of our people. To make sure the lesson stuck, the Vargothans fined everyone up in the street and selected each tenth person. It didn't matter if it was a woman or a child. They hung them."

  Father Thomas shut his eyes tightly and he murmured a prayer for the souls of the departed. He would do so again every day for the next year. Each name Akin had said struck him like a hammer. These were more than just members of his congregation; these were his friends, peo­ple he had lived with for many years. Something had to be done, and the sooner the better.

  "We had better go and find Mathew," said the priest.

  "There is something else you should know—"

  "It will have to wait," the priest replied.

  21

  Devondale

  Mathew didn't remember Martin or his wife leav-ing the room. At some point he must have gotten to his feet because he found himself standing in front of Lara and looking into her eyes.

  Such beautiful eyes, he thought.

  He had always loved her eyes; they were green like her mother's and slightly almond shaped. Eventually, Bran toddled over and looked up, first at her and then at him. The boy took hold of Lara's skirt and she bent down to pick him up. He had her coloring, but his hair was dark brown, like his had been before he'd dyed it. Bran didn't appear shy or fearful, Mathew noted, only curious.

  "Bran, this is your father," Lara said softly.

  Mathew smiled at him at reached out to touch his face. "Hello, Bran."

  Again Bran didn't pull away. Instead he reached out and touched Mathew's face in return. "Hello."

  Mathew blinked. "He talks," he said to Lara.

  "Well, of course he talks. He was three last month."

  Bran held up three fingers to illustrate, which caused Mathew and Lara to start laughing.

  "Can I hold him?"

  Lara nodded and handed Bran to Mathew.

  "Gosh, he's heavy," Mathew said, hefting the child higher.

  For the next few minutes he and Bran got to know each other while Lara tactfully moved off to one side. Eventu

  ally, Bran wanted to be put down. Mathew rubbed his arm and mouthed the word big to Lara, pointing at the him. "Do you want to see my toys?" Bran asked. "Oh, yes. Very much."

  Bran reached up, took hold of Mathew's hand and led him to the side of the store, where Martin kept a small chest. With some effort he pushed the lid open and took out a gray cloth bag, spilling the contents out onto the floor. It contained about twenty miniature soldiers, their cloaks painted the same deep maroon as the Elgarian Royal Guard. Some of them held crossbows, some had pikes, and some were holding swords. Mathew picked one up and stared at it disbelief.

  "Why ... these were mine," he said. "I know," Lara replied.

  "My father made them for me. I couldn't have been much older than Bran, but I remember painting them." Lara's smiled. "I know, Mathew—I helped you." An hour later Martin and Amanda came quietly through the back door and saw Mathew and Bran lying on the floor together playing with the soldiers. Lara had taken a seat and was watching them.

  "I'm being ignored," she told her mother. Amanda walked over and put an arm around her daughter's shoulders. Martin, obviously pleased, folded his arms across his chest and watched the two of them to­gether for several seconds before Mathew grew self-conscious. He got up, ruffled Bran's hair, and went to join the others while Bran continued to play. "He's a fine-looking boy." "That's because he takes after his mother," observed Lara.

  Amanda slapped her daughter gently on the arm in re- proach. "He takes after the both of you. Anyone can see that."

  Mathew and Martin nodded to each other in confirma­tion.

  "I've fixed some lunch for everyone," said Amanda. "Why don't we all go to the house and have a bite to eat. We have a lot of catching up to do."

  "What about the shop?" asked Lara.

  "The shop will survive for an hour or two," Martin replied. "If people want to go to Larsen's, let them."

  Mathew frowned. "There's another dye shop in town?"

  "There have been a lot of c
hanges since you've been gone, my boy. Let's go eat and we'll talk about it."

  Mathew's appetite deserted him halfway through the meal as he listened to what had happened to Devondale since he'd left. The news about the battle at Westrey Bridge and all the deaths that took place there hit him particularly hard. Martin told him that the following year the Vargothans began conscripting young men over the age of sixteen into their military. Mathew's stomach knotted when he learned that Daniel White had been one of the first taken. There had been no word from him since. This, Martin explained, was because of the Var­gothans' new policy of not allowing anyone, particularly conscripted soldiers, to return home. Apparently, the number of deserters was becoming a concern, so they put an end to the practice of visitation.

  More fortunate than some of their other friends, Collin had received an exemption because he and Lara were liv­ing together under the guise of being married. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Lara glance at him when her fa­ther mentioned it. He responded by reaching under the table and squeezing her hand to let her know it was all right.

  The picture Martin painted of the state of affairs in El-garia was not completely bleak, however. Mathew had al­ways known his countrymen were a tough and resourceful lot, and it appeared that they were not quite so willing to give up as the Vargothans and Alor Satar had hoped. Bands of resistance and an underground network had formed all across the country shortly after the invasion.

  It was only natural for Mathew to ask about Collin, since they had been best friends, but the moment he did he saw another of those looks passed between Martin and

  his wife.

  "Collin won't be back for two days," Lara explained, noting his confusion. "He and five other men from town are out hunting."

  "Hunting?"

  "For Vargothans," Martin said. "Akin's organized the whole thing. Sometimes a group of us go out, and some­times the men from Mechlen join us. A week ago we learned that a supply convoy recently left Alor Satar to provision their troops at Ritiba. They're not going to get there."

  Lara's father took a bite of his sandwich and said to his wife, "This is delicious, dear."