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The Key of Amatahns

Page 8

by Elisabeth Wheatley


  Chapter Three

  Slumped on a low rock wall, Janir stared at the moonlit monument before her. She was on a rise overlooking the lush vale below the castle. Mounds and stone pillars lined the hillside to mark the generations of Caersynns and their wives who had lived and died over the centuries. Behind the hill, far in the distance, were the mountains. Their powerful silhouettes blocked the stars and their white peaks gleamed like gemstones.

  Some might have considered the hill a frightening place, particularly at night. More superstitious people believed it to be haunted. Even if it was haunted, Armandius had guaranteed her that the ghosts would be friendly. He once asked her, if there was nothing but trust and love in life, why should that change just because a person was dead? If there were any of his deceased family members lurking about the mounds, they wouldn’t harm her because she was precious to Armandius and they would respect his judgment.

  All the same, Janir had often wondered if they would despise her as Velaskas and Broffy did. Had not several of them died in wars against Argetallams?

  It had taken her at least an hour to trudge her way through the brambles and briars of the woods that lay around the castle and the cultivated fields of crops. Janir was crying again, tears streaming down her face. Rocking silently back and forth, she felt very alone.

  The seven point medallion was cold and solid in her fingers, the symbol of Armandius’ protection, his acceptance. Janir clung to that as tightly as she could.

  “I wish you were still here,” she whispered to the wind.

  The sound of a horse’s hooves came from behind her. Janir recognized the murmured command from the rider. The horse eased to a halt and the rider swung off, habitually patting the beast’s neck.

  There didn’t seem to be anything to say. She stayed as she was.

  Armandius came up from behind and wrapped his arms around her. Janir flung her arms about his neck like she used to do as a child. Neither of them said anything for a while.

  “You ran quite far,” Armandius remarked at length, releasing her from his embrace. “Nearly a mile. No one saw you go.”

  “Then how did you know where to find me?” Janir sniffled.

  Armandius shrugged. “You have always come here after you and I had an argument or when you were upset. Always.”

  Janir nodded and motioned vaguely to the youngest of the solemn tombs. “When I was little, I used to think she could hear me.”

  Armandius stared absently at the stone pillar. “Sometimes I still do.”

  Janir often thought common loss had been part of what had drawn her and Armandius so closely together. “What am I to do?” she asked, voice quavering. “I know I can’t be here at dawn.”

  Armandius didn’t answer straight away. He continued gazing vacantly at the monument. “You must leave.”

  Janir was dumbstruck. Leave? She had never left Green Haven since arriving there. Where could she possibly go? The world seemed to once again begin spinning beneath her, whirling wildly without any apparent direction.

  “But Father…what will I…how will I…” she stammered.

  “Only for a while,” Armandius assured her. “Until I can work some things out.”

  “Where will I go?” she managed to mumble.

  “To the mountains. Higher up they are relatively uninhabited and rather mild this time of year.”

  “What? With the werewargs and the griffins and the snow?” Janir hesitated.

  “My girl,” Armandius lifted her chin, “you know I would come with you if I could, but I cannot. I must be here when the men from Virida arrive. If for nothing else, to convince them that we are not under attack.”

  Janir said nothing. Of course he couldn’t send anyone else with her, no one but Velaskas and Broffy knew.

  The shock of the situation left her dizzy and disoriented. It seemed she should have seen this was coming. What else had she expected? Attempting to pull herself together, she covered her face with her hands and tried to think of something, anything except what was happening.

  “We’ve hunted in the mountains before. We both know you can manage long enough. Now you must go, Jenny,” Armandius prompted. He rested a hand on her shoulder and tugged her off the stone wall.

  “Right.” Janir was stunned, but rose to her feet. She was having trouble thinking clearly, but she managed, “Can we go back to Green Haven Castle so I can grab a few things?”

  “No,” he replied. “I have everything you will need here.”

  Glancing past his shoulder, Janir saw her bay stallion, Kalbo, beside Armandius’ dappled gray steed. Kalbo looked confused and uncertain, but ready. Sadly, she noticed that his saddlebags had been fully packed for a stay in the mountains. Kalbo’s coat gleamed in the moonlight and his intelligent eyes watched her with expectation. Sensing the impending departure, he snorted and pawed the ground.

  “But how will I know when to come back?” Janir asked, gathering her wits enough to think of that question.

  “I will send either Velaskas or Saoven for you.” Taking her hand in a firm grasp, Armandius led her to stand beside Kalbo. “Goodbye, my child.”

  “Don’t say that.” Janir was crying again.

  “It’s not forever,” he assured her. “Just for now.”

  Guiding her to Kalbo’s saddle, he boosted her onto the stallion’s back. Seated astride the horse, Janir began to wonder if she would ever return.

  “There most likely aren’t enough provisions in those saddlebags, so you’ll have to hunt at some point.”

  “Fine.” Janir was only half listening.

  Just for a moment, his determination softened. “Whatever blood may say, you are my daughter, Janir Caersynn.”

  “Father—”

  “You need to go,” he interrupted. “Before the captain of the guard starts looking for us both.”

  There were at least a dozen things she should ask him before she left, but in that instant Janir was too dazed and distressed to think of them all. “What about wild animals?” She wasn’t sure why that of all things came to mind.

  “You can deal with them,” he replied. “You are a capable huntress. They are in greater danger than you.”

  “You say that in spite of my previous hunting record?” The last time they had gone hunting, she had refused to bring down their quarry—a ten-point stag. He had just been too harmless and beautiful. It frustrated the huntsmaster to no end.

  “If it came to Kalbo’s or your life against the beast’s, I believe you would not hesitate to destroy the creature.” Armandius paused. “Be safe.” Slapping Kalbo’s hindquarter, Armandius stood back as the horse charged past the mounds and up the hill.

  Doing her best to guide Kalbo through the dense brush of Green Haven, Janir tried to keep tears from clouding her vision. But it was no use and soon Kalbo’s mane was damp with salty drops.

 

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