by Cat Bruno
By the time Jarek had met Caryss, she had been with child, and no longer without mage-skill. In addition, he recalled how beautiful she had been, fire-haired and aglow. On the day she had been killed, he thought her to be of the stars, for even blood-covered, Caryss had glimmered, wrapped in the midday sun as she stood alone in the center of the grassy field. He told Kennet as much.
“Yet she was mortal still,” the other man muttered. “A woman skilled, but of the earth and of the light.”
Neither cared to speak on her any further, for reasons of their own. It was time, however, for Jarek to seek other answers.
“Kennet,” he began. “Before we reach the Tribelands, I must ask something of you.”
“Be out with it then.”
“For now, Conri is an ally. And against the Crown, he will continue to be one, as he has promised. I fear what will come next, though. When Delwin is defeated and Eirrannia is free, will he still be ally? For the coming war is only the first,” Jarek explained.
“What do you speak of?” Kennet asked, with the calmness that came upon him when his mind found purpose.
“The Dark God had reason to name Caryss as Rexaria. I do not believe that it is his wish that Syrsha rule over Eirrannia only.”
Kenner leapt from the bag and cried, “You suggest that the nameless one desires all of Cordisia for himself!”
The librarian’s cheeks flared red, but behind his spectacles, his eyes were still clear. Jarek nodded, careful to avoid invoking words that might be overheard.
In a hoarse whisper, Kennet said, “And you fear that the High Lord has long known his father’s plans.”
With another nod, Jarek confessed, “He must know of them, for it is his daughter who the Dark God wants as weapon and queen.”
“How much have you learned about the Tribe?” Kennet asked.
“For several moons, I lived among them. How many can say such? But to claim to know of the Tribe would not be wise. I watched as the Crow killed Caryss, and I was there when my grandfather’s death was discovered, his throat torn open by the High Lord. None need to warn me of their intents or abilities.”
As Jarek exhaled, his chest sank as he admitted, “But I know, too, that Conri loves his daughter, just as he once loved Caryss.”
He eyed Kennet and noticed understanding come.
“All your talk of Conri as an ally tells me that you worry that he will not always be so,” the librarian sighed. “It is not the coming war that has you worried, but the one that follows, in which god faces man.”
As the talk progressed, Kennet’s madness had fled, and, now, Jarek looked upon him with less uncertainty.
“For now, the High Lord has agreed to offer us aid, which, no doubt, serves him as well. If Delwin destroys the Tribe and Eirrannia in the upcoming moons, this second war you mention will not come to be. Tell me, Jarek, would you return to Delwin if he could defeat the Tribe and keep the Dark God from ruling?”
Kennet’s query was a fair one, Jarek knew.
With his sky-washed eyes matching Kennet’s gaze, Jarek answered, “As a child, I made a vow to protect Syrsha. I will not break my word.”
“You were too young to give such a promise. And you have not seen the girl in moon years. None even know if she will return to Cordisia.”
“She will come,” Jarek interrupted.
“And what if she is unworthy of your protection? What if she has become the weapon that the Dark God long planned?”
“You do not know her,” Jarek warned, his voice deepening.
“I know the Tribe. I know the nameless one. I need not know her to be afraid of what she might have become in her absence from Cordisia.”
His words, grave and solemn, fell heavier as the winds increased. Around the men, the air cooled.
“Your own uncle has helped raise her!” Jarek hissed, mist shading his gaze.
“An uncle who long ago acquired dark magic,” Kennet countered with a newfound ease.
Soon, the epidii would arrive, and an argument would change nothing. With effort, the swirling winds quieted, and the sails flittered without assistance.
“For now, we must deal with the enemy at our door,” Jarek finally said. “All else must wait.”
With one final warning, Jarek stated, “For now, we all fight against the Crown. Let us not forget that.”
As Jarek reached the narrow stairs, he called back, “And, Kennet, I would not speak ill of Syrsha in front of her father.”
He did not stay to hear any reply.
*****
17
“How many did you send?”
“Six. They will arrive within the hour. The boy’s skills are sharper than they once were, and he guided them along the coast with swiftness.”
The High Lord laughed, “He has not been a boy for many moon years, Conall.”
Lifting his brows with indifference, the Tribesman asked, “Do you ever regret letting him go?”
The two were seated in leather-bound chairs beside a kindling fire. In Conall’s hand was an etched glass filled with amber-colored firewater. Of late, he could often be found swilling the spiced drink, a gift from Eirrannia. After the King had ordered all trade banned with the North, the Eirrannians had suffered greatly. Little had changed during the first few moon years, but in recent history, famine had struck. Consuming firewater, long coveted across all of Cordisia, and one of Eirrannia’s main sources of income, was now a punishable offense. Conall purchased as much as he could, even though their stores were now overstocked with it.
After a few glasses of the firewater, his tongue had loosened, and the question had been spoken with ease. Conri eyed his brother with a shaded gaze, yet answered nonetheless.
“His knowledge of the King’s City and the Royal Army will prove valuable, which makes his time there necessary.”
“I quite liked the boy,” Conall admitted as he licked his thin lips.
“Let us hope that Rexterra has not changed him,” Conri voiced.
Nodding, Conall stated, “He might know where the faela is. From what I recall, Jarek can time-walk nearly as well as she.”
It was not something that the High Lord had considered, and he motioned for Conall to continue.
“When Blaidd called for me, his magic was weak. And I still do not know how Jarek came to be with them. Yet it was Syrsha who made it so, I think. Perhaps she has finally forgiven the boy for staying so long in the King’s City.”
Conri rose. As he paced the room, his high boots drummed against the slate floor.
Over the thumping, he called, “Bring him to me as soon as they arrive. We must have word on Syrsha.”
Conall agreed, but, soon after, Conri asked, “Where will the epidii bring them?”
“Just west of here, near Titar’s Pass. Their ship sits north of the Sea of Mist.”
His brother had long tended to the epidii, and was, Conri had to admit, more knowledgeable of the animals and the areas beyond the Tribelands. Titar’s Pass was south of the manse, and one of the few areas where the Faelan Mountains looked upon the sea.
“I would meet them myself rather than wait for them to come here. Let us leave at once.”
As Conall stood, he asked, “Should I call for the others?”
The High Lord knew that his brother feared that the Crows would be patrolling the Western skies. He hastily told him of a recent scout report that the Crows had been spotted in Central Eirrannia.
“Do you think they fly toward Edan Lake?”
Over the last ten moon years, the Bears, who had once roamed as far south as Concordia Lake, had returned to the Tribelands. It had no longer been safe for any Tribesman to live far from the safety of Eirrannia. The Bears had refused to choose between Crow and Wolf, and, instead, lay dormant. But that had not stopped any from seeking Ursono as an ally.
“Kyran was among the ones sighted,” Conri informed him. Knowing what his brother would ask next, Conri said, “Ursono will tell him nothing different t
han what he told us. It is neither a victory, nor a loss. For now, let us see Jarek and Blaidd to the Tribelands. Next, we must prepare for the Rexterran Army.”
The two walked toward the stables, where the epidii would often stay. The trip to Titar’s Pass would be a quick one, but Conri was anxious to meet with Jarek. More, the High Lord wanted to see what had become of Jarek’s Elemental skills, and if the vow of a boy still held true.
“Heyo!” he called, climbing atop the spirit animal.
Conri no longer rode the epidii as often as he once had, for it had been his beloved Laysa who had been killed in the Crow attack. The memory stained his vision red, until he kicked at the beast, holding tightly to her shaggy mane that glistened gray in the midday sun. Behind him, he heard Conall order his mount to the sky. Moments later, they soared, steady and unbothered.
When the blue-gray sea appeared, Conri loosened his grip on the leather straps, calling for the mount to descend. The animal, sensing its kin, circled until a group of shining epidii appeared.
“Have them land!” he screamed to Conall, motioning downward.
It did not take long for Conri to find Jarek. Around him, the air throbbed, tingling with power. Instinctively, Conri’s eyes darkened and his hands burned hot, clenching at the reins. He is not enemy, the High Lord reminded himself.
Within moments, six epidii stood upon dirt-shaded sand.
Conall and Conri were the first to climb down, while the others, unaccustomed to riding, appeared disorientated and weak. To that, Conri smirked, and let his eyes lighten once again.
Jarek was no longer the boy he once had been, and Conri glanced toward his brother, knowing that Conall also noticed the Elemental’s wide shoulders and impressive height. When he had departed from the Tribelands moon years before, Jarek had been a child on the edges of manhood, always bested by his Covian teacher and reserved in nature. Now, the fight would be an even one, the High Lord suspected.
It was with a mixture of fondness and curiosity that Conri approached him. Around them, the others watched. One was the Islander whom Caryss had long ago saved, and Conri was pleased to welcome him. The two others were unknown, but both watched him as if he was wolf and not man. Fear was on their faces and in their breaths, and Conri could taste it, although, with effort, he did not let his tongue run across his parted lips.
As Jarek jumped from the epidiuus, Conri halted, steps away.
“It has been too long,” the High Lord offered, extending a bow and watching as Jarek swallowed, a lump against a sun-colored throat.
“We knew not where to go,” Jarek explained. “With me is Captain Azzaro, who offers his many ships for our use. And that man there,” he pointed, “Comes from the Academy.”
When the bespectacled man readied to interject, Jarek raised a hand, silencing him.
“He is perhaps the most important of us all, Lord Conri, for he knows of tallora.”
Jarek’s call for silence could not stop the man from rushing forward, stumbling through the thickened sand. When he was nearly atop Conri, he cried, “I have longed to meet you since Bronwen first spoke of you!”
Conri stepped back, surprised to hear the name.
“Kennet,” Jarek hissed. “Let it be for now.”
“No. I would hear the man out,” Conri stated.
Hopping from foot to foot, Kennet shrieked, “Bronwen was like a sister to me. Had I known when she left the Academy that I would not see her again, I would have never taught her of the Tribe.”
The man’s face reddened as he shuffled to and fro, unable to stand still. Trained as the Academy’s bookkeeper, Kennet appeared to be harmless, yet Conri had heard Jarek’s warning. The poisonous sap, tallora, had long been known to the Tribe, yet few else knew of its existence. Most in Cordisia believed atraglacia to be the only weapon capable of killing a Tribesman, yet it had not always been so. And, more, the black-ice had become rare. In Delwin’s hands, tallora was the greater threat, for even a nick from a dipped arrowhead could be death.
“I would welcome you all into my home, but only as allies sworn to Wolf,” Conri called, taking his eyes from the librarian.
To Jarek, he said, “You know what comes. Delwin and his armies will march north, and he will seek to destroy the Tribe. Whose side do you stand on, Elemental?”
Jarek did not cower or step away. Instead, he stared back at the High Lord with shining eyes. “I chose sides long ago and have returned to honor my word. But what of the Crows? I have yet to hear whose side they are on now that the Lightkeepers have become involved.”
To that, Conri hesitated. Jarek was not wrong to wonder where the Crows stood, for moon years before, Delwin had accepted help from the Crow High Lord. Even later, after the death of King Herrin, Delwin had enlisted Crow as ally, promising them peace if they attacked Wolf. And so it had been for moon years.
“Delwin has never sent his army beyond Concordia Lake, despite having Crow assistance. But the number of Lightkeepers has swelled, and we have had word that the Royal Army has readied as well. I know little of these new Lightkeepers and know naught if they will accept Crow as ally,” Conri admitted.
“We have much to tell you,” the Elemental said.
Just then, Blaidd spoke. “Uncle Conri, without Jarek’s aid, I would be dead, and Blaze as well, who was born an ally to Syrsha. It was Captain Azzaro’s ship that brought us to safety and led us to the Academy to find the librarian. All three men here can be trusted.”
“It is good to see you, fealo,” the High Lord commented, although he greeted the man without affection.
“It is good to be off that damned ship,” Blaidd grumbled.
Within the hour, they were seated in the High Lord’s reception room, having ridden the epidii east. The librarian, Conri noticed, had become silent, even after food and drink had been provided. The burly, sun-darkened sea captain sat to his right, more at ease than Conri would have guessed. Jarek, too, had quieted, overcome by memories, for his face held a serious gaze and his eyes grayed.
As they had dined, Jarek and Blaidd told them of what had happened at Vesta. Blaidd recalled little after his capture, although the Islander provided his own thoughts on what had occurred once Syrsha had arrived. Jarek had been storm-swept as he battled the Lightkeepers and knew nothing of Syrsha’s arrival. It was then that the captain told of how she had first approached him.
Hours later, Conri sighed, “She risks too much.”
It was Conall who asked the Elemental if he had heard from the girl since the rescue when the High Lord did not speak.
Shaking his head, Jarek told them, “She is too far east, beyond Cossima even. I know not how she found us in Vesta, but I agree with the High Lord that Syrsha must not attempt such again.”
After a pause, Jarek added, “Lord Conri, she left Sythia without an army behind her and in haste.”
“I have tried to contact her without success,” Conri slowly admitted.
His admission was strained, for the High Lord had realized that Syrsha was beyond his reach. News of her departure from Sythia, where she had gone to secure a strong ally, had surprised him greatly.
“With both of us here in the Tribelands, we might have a better chance of finding her,” Conri finally stated, looking to Conall. “Have the fennidi join us,” he told him.
While they waited for Tigorra to come, Conri asked the Islander again to explain how Syrsha had been able to carry Blaidd to the ship.
Blaze, as he was named, answered, “With the Great Mother’s help, she pulled him from the bed of rocks and lifted him to his feet.”
“Your gods are not hers,” the High Lord stated, clearly displeased and with warning.
The boy appeared nervous, especially as he was without sword or bow, but muttered, “The diauxie has long been her teacher, and perhaps it is he who showed her the ways of the Cove. But her hand was bloodied all the same.”
Conall, who had reentered with Tigorra, called, “I once saw her mother do the same, Conr
i. This Great Mother requires a blood oath be paid. But rewards the sacrifice with great power, even if it is fleeting.”
Their father would not be pleased to learn of such, although Conri did not voice such concerns. Later, when the others had left the room, he would speak on it with Conall.
When the fennidi approached, he told her, “We need to find the faela or send word to her through Gregorr. Tell us what we must do.”
A gasp beside him caused Conri to glance toward Kennet, who now jumped from his seat, animated once more.
“Your skin!” he shrieked, racing toward the small woman.
Jarek was at his side before the trembling man could grab Tigorra, and hissed into his ear.
“It has been moon years since I have been met with such glee,” Tigorra cooed, smiling and waving slender, crinkled fingers at them all. “He means no harm.”
“Oh, I would never hurt anyone. You must know that, my lady of the forest. I have read about your kind, but did not believe such to be true. I have just as many questions for you as I do for the High Lord.”
Kennet, who had sat as if asleep for the last few hours, was enlivened again.
“Show me your runes!” the librarian begged.
Conri nearly laughed, for the man sounded much like a child, and, behind him, Jarek seemed ready to strike. Tigorra was old, although none could be certain of her true age, and the High Lord did not doubt that she could tolerate the chattering man. He listened as she began to chide Kennet.
“I know you not, and you come asking for the secrets of my kin! For shame, boy. Now sit back down until I have heard from the High Lord.”
A loud guffaw roared from the swollen belly of the captain after the ancient one’s scolding. Yet Kennet did not back down until Tigorra agreed to meet with him in the morn. Conri wondered then how Caryss had accepted the man as friend. His uncle, the dark mage who still traveled with his daughter, had proven himself to be valuable and loyal, with skills that had served Syrsha well. So far, Kennet had shown the opposite, yet Jarek swore that the man knew more of tallora than any. For that knowledge alone, he would be allowed to remain.
