Daughter of Light (Follower of the Word Book 1)

by Morgan L. Busse

  He ran to her, arms open wide. She fell into his embrace, laughing and crying. “My child,” he whispered, pulling her in close.

  Tears trickled down her cheeks. Nierne breathed in his scent, the smell of old parchment and dust, and felt his coarse robe against her cheek. Of all the fathers of the Monastery, Father Reth was the only one who held her heart. He understood her like no one else.

  After a moment, he leaned back. He brushed away her curls and looked deeply into her eyes. “After everything that happened, I thought…” A deep sadness filled his eyes. Then he gave her a half smile. “Well, I was wrong.” He closed his eyes and bowed his head. “Thank the Word you’re alive.”

  Nierne’s eyes overflowed. More tears poured down her cheeks. Father Reth drew her next to his chest again, rubbed her back and let her cry.

  She realized perhaps there was purpose to her living.

  At least Father Reth thought so.

  • • •

  Over the next few days more people joined the ragged band of escapees, but nowhere near as many as had been freed from Cragsmoor. No one commented on this, but Nierne could see despair in the eyes of the men gathered inside the cave.

  As they sat around the fire that night, eating halfheartedly, someone finally asked the question that had been plaguing Nierne’s thoughts since the day of her capture.

  “How in all the Lands did this happen?” the man across from her asked. He had just arrived an hour ago, one of those found wandering the forest. “Well?” he said, looking around at the others gathered. A couple of people shifted uncomfortably. “How did two men take over our military and capture an entire city?”

  “I can tell you,” said a voice from the shadows. All heads turned as a tall, thin man stepped toward the firelight. His face was gaunt and narrow, his eyes protruding and haunted. Oily strands of grey hair hung around his face.

  “Senator Regessus,” Father Reth whispered to Nierne.

  She noted the rich robes the man wore. Only now they were tattered and dirty. He also had arrived an hour ago.

  “I was there.” Food forgotten, every face was now turned toward Senator Regessus. “They showed up a few months ago, brought to the court by Senator Barron. The moment they stepped inside the court, they held us all.” Senator Regessus eyes looked around the room. “Those of you who have seen the Shadonae can testify that they are the most beautiful beings to walk the Lands. Their beauty captured us.” His eyes took on a distant look, as if recalling the past.

  “And then they spoke. They had so much knowledge to share, such high and lofty ideas. We were all enamored by them. We invited them to our homes, shared meals with them, eager to be counted amongst their closest friends, never once imagining that these beautiful men would turn on us.”

  Senator Regessus stopped and shuddered. The entire cave was quiet. Nierne heard the fire crackle in the silence.

  “Then,” Senator Regessus began, his voice cracking slightly, “on that day—”

  The hair on Nierne’s body rose. She knew what day he was referring to.

  “We discovered too late what these men really were. We were all gathered in the Assembly Room, waiting to hear from our new friends. Suddenly they ordered the doors shut and locked, which our guards did immediately. We were puzzled, but felt no unease at their order. But we should have.” Regessus looked around and took a deep breath.

  “Then Valin brought Senator Barron to the center of the room,” Regessus continued. “He said ‘Today is a new day for Thyra.’ Once again, we were puzzled by his words. Then he pulled off the glove he always wore and touched Barron and…” Regessus stopped, his jaw working as if he were trying to work the words out of his mouth. “Barron screamed…” He worked his jaw again. “He dropped to the floor—convulsing.” Regessus closed his eyes. His mouth shut, and he stood there with the fire playing along the sharp angles of his face.

  Nierne stared at the senator, her mouth dry. Someone whimpered nearby. Those who had spent time in the dungeons knew what Regessus was describing. They had seen it too.

  “It-it was as if the blinders were finally removed from my eyes,” Regessus said. “I could see now what stood in the middle of that room. They were not men, but monsters. And we had followed them, allowed them into our homes, our hearts, our lives.”

  His eyes looked hollow as he turned to stare into the flickering flames. “And now we are paying the price.”

  • • •

  “Eldarans don’t exist anymore.”

  “Ah,” Father Reth said, “but we would have said the same thing about the Shadonae months ago.” He pointed toward the tunnel that led to the outside. “Now we know better.”

  Cargan continued to scowl, his hairy arms folded across his massive chest. He and Father Reth stood in the middle of one of the rooms that extended from the main mining room. A torch hung from a metal bracket anchored to the rock wall near the doorway. It lit the area near the room’s entrance, but left the rest of the area in darkness.

  Nierne watched the exchange from the shadows on the other side of the room. She had found a small, private corner, cut off from the rest of the room by a wall of rock and wooden beams. It afforded some privacy from a mine full of men.

  She recognized Cargan. He was a city watchman. Or had been, before the Thyra massacre. Now he was the leader of those who had escaped.

  “Perhaps Eldarans do exist,” Cargan conceded reluctantly. “The problem is that I don’t have any extra men to send to the four corners of the Lands to search for them. For each day that passes, those still in Cragsmoor are either killed or mind-possessed. I would rather keep trying to free those people than go on a wild chase that may or may not turn up an Eldaran.”

  “But in the end, you will lose,” Father Reth said softly.

  Cargan’s scowl deepened. “I don’t see how.”

  “Weapons of steel cannot hurt the Shadonae. You may be able to rescue some of the people still trapped in the city, but the Shadonae will hunt you down, and eventually you will lose. Only an Eldaran has the power to stop the Shadonae.”

  Cargan stood stiffly, then dropped his arms and sighed. “Then what do you propose we do?”

  “We go and search for the Eldarans.”

  “I already told you. I don’t have enough—”

  “Then I will go alone,” Father Reth said.

  Cargan stared at Father Reth, then laughed. “You’ll go search for some fable, facing who knows what, all by yourself? You’re madder than I thought.”

  It was Father Reth’s turn to scowl. “At least I’d be doing something that has a chance of—”

  “I will go with him.”

  The two men started at the sound of her voice. Nierne stood up. She agreed with Father Reth. The Shadonae possessed a power outside the physical realm, a power no human could ever destroy. But she believed the Eldarans could match that power. If there were any left.

  “What are you doing here?” Cargan demanded, stepping forward.

  “I was here before you both entered the room,” Nierne said.

  “And you stayed because…?”

  “I did not realize you were having a private conversation until you were well into it.”

  Cargan studied her for a moment. Nierne shoved down the urge to fidget under his intense gaze. Instead, she stood rigid. She knew the man was suspicious of everything and everyone—and understandably so. After what everyone had gone through in Thyra, most of the refugees here jumped at every shadow.

  “Are you sure about this, Nierne?” Father Reth said, coming to stand by her.

  Cargan’s gaze relaxed. She knew she had been tested and found acceptable.

  “I’m not any good here.” Nierne turned her gaze to Father Reth. “I can’t fight and I don’t know anything about the healing arts. I can’t even cook.” For the last two days all she had done was sit and watch others. Granted, she was still recovering from her imprisonment, but Nierne knew she was just another body for others to care for, and t
hat made her feel restless. She wanted to do something to help. To make up for not helping before…

  Father Reth opened his mouth to speak, but she cut him short with a wave of her hand. “However, I’m young and healthy and can walk wherever we need to go.” And knew more about the Eldarans than anyone else in this mine, other than Father Reth. Although unlike him, Nierne believed the Eldaran race had died out long ago. But if there was a chance they still existed, they were Thyra’s only hope.

  “Well, Father, it looks like you’ve got yourself an escort,” Cargan said, glancing over at Nierne. “And a stubborn one at that.” He chuckled.

  Father Reth studied her a few moments.

  Nierne raised her chin defiantly. There was no way she was going to let him go anywhere without her.

  “You’re right about that, Cargan.” A smile broke across Father Reth’s face. “Guess I better take her.”

  • • •

  “I have an old friend up in Lachland,” Father Reth said the next morning. “If we’re lucky, he’ll still be there. We can get some supplies from him, then start across the Ari Mountains.”

  “Ari Mountains?” Nierne said as they headed toward the entrance of the mine.

  “Yes. I thought the first place we should travel to is the White City. After all, it is where the Eldarans first came to the Lands. There is an old sanctuary just outside the city. It would seem to be the most logical place for any remaining Eldarans to be.”

  The two stepped out into the sunlight. Nearby, a bird began to sing. The trees were just beginning to turn color. Red and gold mingled with the green leaves. Bright blue sky poked through the tree branches. Nierne stepped out from beneath the trees and felt the sun’s heat spread across her face. It warmed her body, driving away the cold, damp feel of the mines.”

  A breeze sprang up and played with the curls around her face. More birds joined the first bird in song. A squirrel chattered from the trees. Nierne took a deep breath and let it out with a sigh.

  Father Reth came to stand beside her. “Feels good to be out of those mines.” Nierne merely nodded, enjoying this moment of peace. “Well,” he said finally, “shall we begin?”

  “Yes.”

  Father Reth pulled out a small, round compass from the folds of his robes. “Haven’t used one of these in years.” He held the compass close to his body and looked down at the glass face. He slowly turned, face still down, watching the small device. He stopped and looked up. “This way.”

  They walked the rest of the day in silence. To their knowledge, the Shadonae had chosen for the moment to stay within Thyra. However, shadows had been seen patrolling the forest the last few days, so Father Reth insisted on a very quiet journey to Lachland.

  It took them a couple of days to cross the country of Kerre, a long and narrow country caught between the sea, the marshes, and the Great Desert to the south. But unlike the surrounding lands, Kerre was lush and beautiful.

  It was also known as one of the most civilized countries in the Lands. People came from all over to study in its most prominent city, Thyra. It was said that if pleasure was the god of Temanin, then knowledge was the god of Kerre. But no amount of knowledge could save the people from the Shadonae now. It would require the source of knowledge, the Word Himself.

  Nierne thought upon the irony of this as they drew closer to Lachland. The people of Kerre had long ago pushed aside the ancient teachings of the Word for more contemporary ways of thinking. Only the scribes at the Monastery had preserved the scrolls written long ago—written, perhaps, by the Eldarans themselves. And now the salvation of Thyra depended on the God they had denied.

  They reached Lachland the afternoon of the third day. It was a small village, out of the way of most commerce. Only a few chose to dwell near the marshes. Tired and hungry, the two of them entered the village. “Ben owns a small mercantile here,” Father Reth said. “So watch for one.”

  They followed the single dirt road that ran through the village. Nierne looked back and forth, studying the buildings that stood on either side. Most were run-down with cracked windows and missing boards. Paint peeled off of white-washed buildings. Dull green moss grew thickly over the wood shingled roofs. Bleak clouds hung overhead, giving the town a tired look.

  Nierne wrinkled her nose. A sulfurous smell hung in the muggy air like rotten eggs left in the kitchen.

  “It’s the marshes nearby,” Father Reth said at the look on her face. “The smell is not as bad today as it usually is.”

  Nierne couldn’t imagine what a bad day would smell like.

  They continued to walk along the road. The only decent looking place she saw was a tavern. Probably the only place that gets business here, Nierne thought. A rough looking man with shaggy brown hair and beard exited the tavern. He stumbled down the stairs and stopped at the bottom. He looked up at Nierne. His look turned into a long stare.

  Nierne pulled the hood up from her robe and covered her tangled mess of blood red curls. Even in Thyra, a city that boasted much variety among its citizens, she had always stood out and drew more attention than she liked. She had inherited the unique red color from her mother.

  Nierne could feel the man’s eyes on her even after she walked by. She hated men staring at her. It made her feel… dirty.

  “There it is.” Father Reth stopped and pointed toward a tall, plain building with a single sign that hung above a narrow door. Last Chance Mercantile was written in dark letters, the paint chipping away from the sign. The shop looked as if it had seen better days.

  The two entered the dilapidated establishment. It took a moment for Nierne’s eyes to adjust to the dark interior. Slowly barrels and crates began to take shape, filled with all sorts of food, seed, and other supplies people living on the edge of civilization would need. Glass jars filled with pickled foods lined the shelves that hung on the walls. Crude farming tools stood in one corner. A couple bolts of ugly grey material lay against the wall of another. Father Reth headed straight toward the back and through an open door. Nierne followed.

  In the back was a small room. The white clapboard walls were bare. A worn wooden counter stood in the middle of the room with another door in back. A window along the left wall let in pale light. Cobwebs hung in the corners.

  Behind the counter sat a man on a spindly wooden chair. His legs were very long. They sprawled out in front, arms folded across his chest and his head bent forward. His hair was long and white and pulled back at the nape of his neck. A thick, white mustache grew below his crooked nose. The rest of his face looked like worn leather. A dark jerkin covered his stained white shirt and a sword was belted around his middle. A small snore escaped his lips.

  Father Reth moved toward the man and laid a hand on his shoulder.

  “What the—” The man leaped to his feet, his hand going to the sword. Then his eyes lit upon Father Reth. “Reth?” he sputtered.

  “Ben!” Father Reth replied.

  Ben took a step toward Father Reth and embraced him. Nierne watched from the doorway. “Reth, I can’t believe it. It’s been, what, ten years since I last saw you?”

  “More like twenty,” Father Reth said with a laugh.

  “And who is this?” Ben asked, turning to look at Nierne.

  “One of the scribes from the Monastery.”

  “You didn’t tell me the Monastery was taking in lovely ladies. I might have signed up.”

  “Now, now, Ben. Leave her alone.” A smile tugged at the corner of Father Reth’s mouth. “Besides, I don’t think the solitary lifestyle of a scribe would have suited you.”

  “No, it wouldn’t have. Never understood how you could join.”

  “I was called to it. Nothing to explain.”

  “Still think you’re crazy. Giving up our adventures, gold, women?” Ben said the last word with a leer. “For what? Dusty books and parchment?”

  “There is more to life than that, Ben.”

  “Ha! Why, I remember the time when we stumbled into that tavern dow
n in Hont. You know, when we were searching for the necklace of Calbar. And that sandstorm came whipping in. We were holed up there for three days. Not that you minded. You had—what was her name?” Ben waved his hand. “Eh, doesn’t matter. You were too drunk to remember.” He tapped a finger on his chin. “Think I was too.”

  Father Reth laughed. Ben joined him. Soon they were nearly doubled over in laughter.

  Nierne raised an eyebrow. She knew Father Reth had not always been a father, but to be somehow linked to a story like that made her wonder what he had been like when he was younger.

  Father Reth caught his breath. “Yes, yes, but that was a long time ago. Seems your memory is as good as it was then: a bit on the fuzzy side.”

  “Yeah. Never could keep things straight. Gotten worse since I moved here. So,” Ben said, looking back at Nierne, “how did a pretty thing like you end up at the Monastery?”

  Nierne felt her cheeks redden.

  Father Reth stepped back and placed a hand along her shoulder. “Nierne joined us about fifteen years ago and has been a wonderful addition to our community.”

  Ben looked at her. “‘Nierne,’ is it?”

  “Yes…sir,” she replied, not sure how to address the man.

  Ben again roared with laughter. “Don’t know when’s the last time I’ve been called a ‘sir.’”

  “Probably never,” Father Reth said with a grin. Nierne relaxed under his arm. Father Reth had always seemed less uptight than any of the Monastery Fathers, scribes too. Perhaps his past had something to do with that.

  Ben smiled back. Then his face slowly turned somber. “We’ve all heard about Thyra. Many here have already left, fearing the Shadonae will come here next. How is it you two escaped?”

  Nierned looked up at Father Reth. His smile faded. “That, my friend, is a long story.”

  “Then let’s hear it.” Ben turned and moved toward the doorway.

  He led them out the back door of the mercantile, where there was a small building that the older man evidently used as his living quarters.