Daughter of Light (Follower of the Word Book 1)

by Morgan L. Busse

  He hurried down the hall, snarling at a young servant girl who took too long to get out of his way. He turned the corner and came upon his quarters. Caleb slammed the door shut and walked toward the balcony. The view that had held such appeal for him earlier that evening was, under this cloud of frustration, no longer attractive. He felt his world had been turned upside down, leaving him out of control.

  And he did not like it one bit.

  5

  The morning sun entered the small window just above the bed and lit up the room. Rowen blinked sluggishly, trying to recall where she was. Then it all came back: the man, the fight, and the other room. She sat up and clutched the blanket to her chest. Her glove was on. She looked around the room. No one else was there. Rowen let out a sigh of relief. She was safe.

  Carefully she stood, still clutching the blanket to her body. She grabbed her sword from the nightstand and made her way across the room. She opened the door to the hallway and found her rescuer from last night gone. Only a folded blanket and pillow near the door gave evidence of his presence.

  Rowen hurried across the hall. Once inside her own room, she rummaged around for another set of travel clothes and quickly changed. Then she stuffed her belongings into her pack, braided her long hair, and tied it off at the end. Lastly, she belted her sword to her side and headed downstairs.

  Jarl was behind the counter cleaning dishes from the previous evening when she entered the large room. Rowen tiptoed across the wooden floor toward the door ahead, hoping to leave quietly.

  Jarl looked up. “Oh, it’s you.” He put down the wooden bowl he had been wiping. Caught, Rowen slowly turned toward Jarl. He was already moving around the long wooden bar. “I’m sorry about last night.” He walked up to her with eyes full of remorse. “And so I want to give you back the money for your room.”

  Rowen shook her head. “That’s not necessary—”

  “It’s the least I can do.” Jarl pulled his coin pouch out from beneath his stained apron. He poured out a handful of coins and held them out to her.

  “Really, its not—”

  “It would make me feel like I’ve done something to repay you for your trouble. So please, take it.”

  Rowen reluctantly took the gold.

  “I don’t know what would’ve happened if Captain Lore hadn’t been here,” Jarl said quietly.

  Rowen dropped the coins into her own pouch. Captain, she thought again, cinching up the pouch. It was nice to know there were some decent men in the military. Unlike the man who had entered her room.

  “Would you like some breakfast before you leave?” Jarl said.

  “Actually, no,” Rowen said. She was anxious to get going. “But I do need directions. I’m heading to the White City.”

  “Oh, well, that’s easy.” Jarl tucked his coin pouch back beneath his apron. “Just outside the main gates, go right, toward Anwin Forest. There will be a wide dirt road. It leads directly to the White City. You can’t miss it.”

  Rowen thanked him, picked up her pack, and headed out. At the stable, she retrieved her mount and followed Jarl’s directions. As she neared Anwin Forest, she found the road just where Jarl said it would be.

  Rowen steered her horse toward the path and entered the forest. It was a clear day, unlike the day before. The sun was shining and she could hear birds singing in the trees.

  Rowen took a deep breath. By tonight, she would be in the White City and starting her new life. A small part of her tingled with excitement. The rest of her still grieved over the loss of her village.

  Those two emotions battled within her as the day passed. She met one other traveler, a lone merchant wearing his wares across his back, heading south toward the small villages in the valley. He greeted her cordially if not curiously. Rowen merely nodded. Ever since last evening, she had become more cautious around those she did not know.

  Evening came and she still had not caught sight of the White City. Doubt began to fill her mind. Had she gone the wrong way? Rowen squeezed the reins and kept following the same dirt road, now covered with the long shadows cast by the trees overhead.

  The path led upward, weaving its way through the forest. A break in the trees appeared where the path crested a hill. Rowen rode toward the break and stopped.

  Staring ahead, she felt her breath vanish. In the fading sunlight stood the White City.

  She had heard stories of the city made of white stone, but seeing it now with her own eyes, the stories paled in comparison. She rode past the line of trees onto a field of tall grass. Tiny white and yellow wildflowers dotted the green landscape. The field went on for half a league before reaching the city.

  Tall impenetrable walls surrounded the city, their white sides turning the color of rose in the dying light. Above the walls she could see towers and battlements, the grey tiled rooftops of shops and homes, and in the far distance, emerging from the mountain itself: Celestis Castle.

  The face of Aerie Mountain rose up behind the castle and disappeared in the clouds that swirled around the peak. The city had been formed from the mountain’s white stone. Rowen remembered her father once telling her that it had taken the Ryland people over a century to carve the city out of the mountain.

  She followed the path that cut through the meadow. The sheer size of the walls became more apparent the closer she drew to the White City. They were at least as tall as the trees of Anwin. She watched tiny figures walking along the top. Blue flags emblazoned with a white eagle flapped in the cool mountain wind.

  Ahead, two towering gates stood open, permitting entrance into the city. Large carvings stood out against their wooden surface, but in the fading light she could not make out the symbols.

  Rowen rode between the gates. She looked up at the white stone archway high above her. Her breath caught. She scarcely believed that soon she would be calling this place home.

  At the entrance began a long cobblestone street lined with lamps lit for the evening. The horses’ hooves clopped as the mare stepped onto the street. Rowen looked ahead. She could see that the street curved slowly upward until it reached a second wall and the castle in the distance.

  Light spilled out from windows that lined both sides of the street. There were butcher shops with slabs of cured meats and sausage hung on display, clothing shops with beautiful gowns, and even a silversmith. A rolled piece of faded parchment was nailed to the door of an apothecary, advertising that a Rylander could find the cure for almost anything inside.

  Rowen rode by a three-story inn with large windows in the front. She could see many people eating and drinking inside its warmly lit interior. There was even a shop that sold toys. She stopped to look inside the toymaker’s window and marveled for a moment at the miniature carved horse and dolls with painted faces.

  She passed by couples strolling along as she made her way up the street. They nodded her direction, and she greeted them likewise.

  Near the castle stood a second wall, this one shorter but made out of the same white stone. A guard dressed in light chainmail covered by a blue tabard with a white eagle stood on either side of the entry.

  One of the guards stepped away from the wall. He held up his hand for her to stop. “State your business.”

  Rowen brought her horse to a stop. “Lord Gaynor is expecting me.” She pulled out the letter.

  “Lord Gaynor?” the guard said with suspicion. He reached for the letter. The other guard came to stand beside him.

  “Yes. I was invited here on behalf of his daughter. I am her new varor.” Her words sounded unpolished, and she felt simple compared to the elegance she had observed in the city so far.

  “You’re Commander Jedrek Mar’s daughter?” the second guard said. The first guard continued to read the letter.

  “Yes.” Rowen turned to look at him.

  He turned and whispered something in the first guard’s ear.

  The first guard rolled up the parchment and handed it back to her. “We were told you would be arriving. Come, I
will show you in.” He motioned inside the archway. Rowen dismounted and followed, leading the horse behind her.

  Just inside the archway, the cobblestone street continued. Ahead stood a tall fountain made of white stone. Water glittered in the torchlight as it splashed down from its uppermost spout. Beyond the fountain was a set of wide stairs leading up to the castle. Large stone pillars were set on either side of two curved doors, just as ornately carved as the gate doors. On either side of the door were lit torches, lighting the darkened area.

  “You may leave your horse here,” the guard said to Rowen. “I will send someone from the stables to take her.”

  Rowen nodded and retrieved her pack.

  “Here, let me carry that for you.” The guard held out his hand.

  Rowen hesitated, then handed him the pack. She blushed at his surprised look. She knew it wasn’t heavy. But it was all she had.

  The guard led her up the stairs and through the double set of doors. Inside, Rowen found herself in a large hall. The air was cool with a hint of smoke in the air. Long tapestries hung from the high ceilings. An iron wrought candelabra hung between the tapestries. Thick dark blue rugs covered the pale stone floor. Silver ornamentals twinkled on a nearby table.

  Never had she seen such beautiful furnishings. Everything in her village was functional before beautiful. And since the war, beauty had disappeared altogether.

  The guard ignored the finery and continued across the hall, disappearing through a stone archway. Rowen quickly followed.

  “Long journey?” the guard asked. He led her down the long corridor.

  “Mmm? Oh, yes, took a couple days,” Rowen said, distracted by the paintings that hung along the walls. Sconces with tapered candles lit the hallway they followed. The faint hum of voices came through the walls.

  “Which village are you from?”

  “Cinad,” she replied, glancing at another painting, this one with a regal looking woman holding a single white flower in her hand.

  “Ah, a farming village. Didn’t realize Commander Jedrek was from that area.”

  Rowen turned back toward the guard, but his face was forward again. They continued to follow the hall, turning twice before reaching a set of doors.

  “Here we are.” The guard pressed down on the latch and opened the doors. Beyond them was what looked like a common room, similar to one that might be found in an inn. A large stone fireplace stood along the right wall with a couple of chairs surrounding it. In the middle of the room was a long rough wooden table. Doors lined the left wall with stairs leading to a second balcony with more doors.

  “This is the Guards Quarter,” he said, turning back to Rowen. “Go ahead and take a seat while I inform the captain that you are here.” He placed her pack down on the stone floor and left through the same doors through which they had entered.

  Rowen stood there for a moment then moved toward the chair nearest the fire and sat down. Dread like a dark, cold fog crept across her heart. What if they decided she wasn’t good enough? What if Lady Astrea didn’t like her?

  What if they discovered her mark?

  Rowen looked down and gave her glove a hard tug, making sure every part of her hand was covered and waited. She would know soon enough.

  • • •

  “So the Avonai Council agreed to the meeting?” Lord Gaynor said to Captain Lore.

  “Yes,” Lore said. He had arrived only an hour ago and had gone directly to Lord Gaynor. He was still wearing his riding cape and traveling clothes.

  Lord Gaynor began to pace. “And King Alaric also agreed?”

  Lore’s face fell. “The king was not present while I was there. Apparently his health has deteriorated more than we knew. He keeps to himself nowadays.”

  “That’s not good,” Lord Gaynor said to himself. He opened his mouth to say something more, but there was a knock at the door. “Yes?” Lord Gaynor said, sounding a little exasperated at the interruption.

  A guard came to stand in the doorway. “Sorry to interrupt, but Commander Jedrek Mar’s daughter is here.”

  Lore turned toward Lord Gaynor in surprise. “I don’t understand. I did not receive word that she had accepted your invitation.”

  “I did.” Lord Gaynor moved around the long table. “I’m sorry, Lore. The message arrived two days ago, and I had planned to tell you after your report. I didn’t expect her to arrive for another couple of days.”

  “I see,” Lore said, thinking fast. He turned back toward the guard. “Take her to the Guards Quarter. Tell her I’ll be there shortly.”

  “Yes, sir.” The guard closed the door behind him.

  “I know you still don’t agree with my decision,” Lord Gaynor said. “But I did this for a friend. So at least give this young woman a chance.”

  Lore sighed. “I will give her a chance, but when the time comes for her oath, she will be judged like any other aspiring for the position of varor. I won’t be easy on her just because she is Commander Jedrek’s daughter. She will need to stand on her own merits.”

  “I agree,” Lord Gaynor said. “But I don’t think you’ll be disappointed. Jedrek told me much about his daughter. I believe she will do just fine.”

  “That’s still left to be seen,” Lore said cautiously. “May I be excused?”

  “Yes,” Lord Gaynor said. “Go meet the young woman.”

  Lore bowed and turned. He caught a glimpse of Lord Gaynor pacing, no doubt thinking about the latest news Lore had brought back from Avonai.

  Lore headed toward the Guards Quarter, his thoughts on the young woman he was about to meet. He did not relish spending his time on training an amateur when there was work requiring his time elsewhere.

  Lore paused just before entering. He straightened his uniform and mentally readied himself for the meeting. Then he opened the door.

  There was no one in the common room. No one, that was, except for a figure sitting near the fireplace. Must be her, he thought, and began to cross the room.

  The figure turned his direction and stood.

  “Welcome,” Lore said. “I am Captain—” He choked on his words. It couldn’t be. The young woman he had rescued last night stared back at him, shock written across her face. “You? You’re Commander Jedrek’s daughter?”

  “Yes… Yes, sir,” she replied, her eyes wide with disbelief.

  He turned away and ran a hand through his hair. This was not what he was expecting.

  “Is something wrong, sir?” she said in a more controlled voice.

  Lore turned back. “No, it’s just—” With a firm grip, he took a hold of his shock and shoved it toward the back of his mind. It wasn’t her fault she had caught him unawares.

  He took a deep breath. “Let’s try this again, shall we?” Lore looked up and gave her a small smile. “I am Captain Lore Palancar, Captain of the Guard and varor to Lord Gaynor.” He bowed in her direction.

  She looked at him. “Rowen Mar, daughter of Jedrek Mar.”

  “Rowen,” Lore said. “I would say it’s good to meet you, other than we already have.”

  “Yes, a strange coincidence,” Rowen said quietly.

  Lore motioned toward the chairs that circled the fireplace. “Please, take a seat.” She took the one closest to the fire. “Would you like anything to eat or drink?”

  Rowen shook her head. “No, thank you.”

  Lore sat down, facing her. “First, I would like to say I am sorry about your loss. I knew Jedrek Mar for many years. He was a good man.”

  Rowen nodded, her face tightening in the firelight. Lore saw her look and moved on. “I would also like to say welcome to the White City. Have you ever been here before?”

  “No,” Rowen clasped her hands across her lap.

  “Perhaps between training sessions you’ll have a chance to visit the city. There are many shops along the main street.”

  “That would be nice.”

  Lore could still feel tension between them and wondered if it had to do with the previous
evening. How to approach that subject…? “How was your trip?” he asked.

  “It was…otherwise uneventful.”

  Lore decided to plunge ahead. “And how are you dealing with last night?”

  Rowen turned to look at the fire. Lore studied her silhouette: her smooth pale skin, dark lashes, and the one strand of hair that had come loose from her braid. It fell across her cheek and curled just below her chin. She was certainly a beautiful young woman.

  “I am learning to be more prepared for the unexpected,” she said.

  “Definitely a trait you will need as a varor.” Gone was the shocked woman from last night. Instead sat a woman very much in control of herself. No, not controlled, rigid. As if she were placing herself behind a solid wall. Interesting. “You never know what you might face when guarding Lady Astrea,” Lore continued, “but it seemed to me you handled yourself quite well.”

  Rowen looked as if she might say something more, then she seemed to change direction. “I still have much to learn.”

  Yes, definitely hiding behind a wall. Did it have to do with what had happened to her last night? Or maybe she was just the type who stayed cool until she came to know people more. Either way, Lore knew that now was not the time to start scaling that wall. Hopefully Rowen would warm up when they began their training sessions.

  Lore realized he had been quiet too long. He nodded toward the sword belted to her waist. “So you already know how to use a sword?”

  “Yes, my father taught me.”

  “Good, I’ll test your skills tomorrow to see where you can improve.” He was quickly running out of words to say. He could also see exhaustion creeping across her face. Time to wrap up their time.

  “Rowen.” Lore leaned across his knees. “These next few weeks are going to be tough. Not only will you be pushed to your limits physically, but mentally as well. The position of a varor is not for everyone.” He watched her face tighten again. “But I will do everything I can to train you and help you decide if being a varor is for you.” And he meant every word he said.

  Rowen studied him with those large eyes of hers. “Thank you, sir.”