Firebrand

by Kristen Britain

  He wrapped his cloak around himself against another episode of chills, and then found a likely spot on the floor in a quiet corner to lie down and rest. His last vision before he fell asleep was of Donal standing sentry, his arms crossed and stance ready for a fight.

  THE GOLDEN GUARDIAN

  Scouts of the River Unit waved them through another checkpoint, and Mist went on at a gentle trot. Even as seamless as Mist’s gaits were, Karigan clenched her teeth trying not to cry out at the slightest bump. Her back felt like it had been ripped apart all over again. It may not have hurt while she was the avatar, but the stress and exertion she had placed on it while she was the avatar assailed her in full after, and she didn’t want Enver to know so he would not stop or turn back. Estral needed to have the news of her father, and it must come from a friend.

  As they rode, the sky lightened subtly as night gave in to dawn, and Karigan concentrated on staying seated behind Enver and not sliding off in pain or exhaustion. Thankfully, the wind and rain had stopped, though she still felt soggy and, in turn, chilled. To take her mind off her discomfort, she reflected on the night’s events. Since she had been preoccupied with escaping the aureas slee at the time, she little understood how Nari happened to be there, or what had become of her and the ice elemental. Enver’s cursory explanation that Nari was the new ice elemental failed to satisfy her, but the news that the old slee was gone and would never come after her or Zachary again was welcome.

  Yes, the old slee was gone, and so were Grandmother and Immerez. She could hardly believe it, and while it brought relief, she knew it would not be the end of their troubles with Second Empire. Perhaps she’d feel more optimistic once she got some rest.

  They left the woods, at last, just as the first fingers of sunrise crept over the eastern horizon. If she had managed this far, she could make it all the way to the campsite.

  She continued reflecting on her experiences of the night, of being an avatar. This time, her memory of it had not been taken away, though much of it felt like a dream, of having that power flow through her, and not just to contain the dark ones. The keep and its surrounds had been full of the newly dead as well as those of a more ancient time. It had been overwhelming. Most spirits, she knew, would pass on in their own time to whatever the afterlife held for them. Others would continue fighting, unaware they were dead. She had helped as many as she could with a whisper as she rode by.

  She couldn’t resist dwelling for some time on the kissing, which made her cheeks warm and filled her with a keen thrill that made her shiver. But there was also much remorse. She shouldn’t have let it happen, and yet another part of her could not help but give over to desire. How would it play out, she wondered, when they were back home, out of the wilderness and away from battle, and sharing the same roof as Estora? Estora did not deserve this. It should not have happened, and could not happen again. Yet, every time she tried to prevent her feelings for Zachary from growing, they only deepened.

  The hardest part of the night had been looking upon the body of Lord Fiori, and then seeing his spirit form also gazing at it. His expression had been grave, but when he glanced up at her, he looked confused at first, perhaps recognizing that she was not just Karigan.

  Look after my daughter, he had told her.

  She’d promised she would with a whisper, then wished him sleep, but it was unnecessary for he’d become surrounded by starshine. A look of joy crossed his translucent face. There is music! he exclaimed. Then he’d turned and vanished forever into the light.

  Why her? she wondered. Why was it she who could do this thing, this seeing of ghosts and commanding them? Intellectually, she knew it was because of her special ability to cross thresholds, but still, why her? Why did her life have to be so strange? She did not wish to contemplate the possibility of Westrion calling on her again to perform the role of avatar. She hoped he did not.

  In the distance, they spotted support troops of the River Unit moving in the direction of the Lone Forest with pack mules. Karigan did not know if they intended to hold the keep, but it was looking that way.

  By the time they encountered the guards at the campsite, she was slumped against Enver’s back and barely aware when they passed through the wards and into the camp itself. Connly came to help her dismount, and she could not keep to her feet when she did. Connly placed his arm around her to support her.

  “Are you injured?” he asked. “New injuries, I mean.”

  “She needs rest,” Enver said. “A great deal has happened.”

  “Estral,” Karigan murmured. “Need to see Estral.”

  Estral appeared out of her tent, rubbing her eyes. “Karigan? You’re back!” She rushed over and looked as though she wanted to hug her, but held back. “Are you all right? What happened?”

  “Estral,” Karigan said. She was so tired that just speaking was difficult. “Must tell you . . .”

  “Did we win?”

  “Yes,” Karigan replied, “but, I’m sorry . . .”

  “You’re sorry? For what?” Then Estral’s face clouded. “My father?”

  “I’m so sorry. He was killed.”

  “No,” Estral said, “that can’t be right. No . . .”

  Karigan tried to reach for her so she could provide comfort, but she was assailed by dizziness and all went dark.

  • • •

  When Karigan stirred again, she was in Enver’s tent lying on her stomach on her bedding, her back bare.

  “Ah, Galadheon,” Enver said, “you are with us once more.”

  “Estral,” she said, trying to gather her strength to rise.

  Enver placed his warm hand on her shoulder and eased her back down. “Connly is looking after her. Please remain still for now. Your deeper wounds have taken longer to heal and were not fully knitted back together when your god sent you to the forest. Some have reopened yet again.”

  She groaned in frustration, frustration at her injuries, frustration that she hadn’t been able to break the news more gently to Estral and be there for her.

  “There are marks on you,” he continued, “like mild burns in different places. Do you know what caused these?”

  It took Karigan a moment to remember. “Grandmother’s knots. They breached the avatar’s armor, but something protected me, I think.”

  “Yes, something did. When you appeared outside after imprisoning the dark ones, silver-green light shone through the breaches of your armor.”

  “Laurelyn?”

  “Yes, and Nari.”

  “Nari?”

  “It appears she left you a gift, to strengthen whatever was left of Laurelyn’s.”

  “I would thank her if I could.”

  “Do so when winter comes and the north wind blows. She will hear you.”

  It was like living in some sort of fairy tale, where the elements were personified and a merchant’s daughter could command the dead.

  “I would like to see Estral, see if she needs me,” Karigan said.

  “You will rest. As soon as I finish with your back, I will stay with her myself. She will not be alone.”

  Sometime after Enver left, she slipped into sleep. She dreamed she walked among the dew-laden grasses of the starry meadow. She did not see the day horse, but she found Siris Kiltyre walking with her.

  “You did well, Rider,” he told her, “despite the challenges. The Aeon Iire should remain secure for many a century to come, so long as no other powerful necromancer tries to break it. By then, it will be someone else’s responsibility.”

  “I am no longer the avatar?”

  “Oh, I did not say that, but we are mortal and do not live forever. One day, your existence will slip into oblivion, and other generations will come and go, like the turnings of the pages of a book. Nothing stays the same.”

  This was not a cheery thought.

  They paused by a strea
m that gurgled and sang around the rocks that studded its surface. Fireflies blinked around them.

  Siris laughed, and she realized he was laughing at her. “The look on your face,” he said. “Be not so morose, for you are not likely to pass to the heavens today, or even tomorrow. You have more pages yet to turn, but how many, even Westrion cannot say. Use what you’ve learned and it will hold you in good stead.”

  He bounded across stepping stones to the opposite bank of the stream, and somehow she knew she was not allowed to follow.

  “The protections we placed around you,” he said, “against the intrusions of the Nyssa spirit, will soon weaken. You must learn to shield yourself and oust her.” He began to fade, the forest beyond showing through his luminous form. “I do not know if we will meet again, Rider G’ladheon, but it has been an honor.” He bowed and vanished.

  • • •

  Karigan slept until a commotion outside woke her up. She dressed as quickly as her hurts allowed in time to see Lieutenant Rennard arrive with a squad of soldiers bearing a shrouded figure on a bier.

  Rennard went to his knee before Estral, his head bowed. Estral swayed as though the slightest wind would knock her over. Karigan took a few steps toward her, and Rennard held out his hands, gold shimmering on his palms in the glint of the late afternoon sun.

  “Lady Fiori,” Rennard said.

  Karigan almost reeled to hear Estral addressed as such, but it was true that as Aaron Fiori’s heir, she was now the Lady Fiori, the Golden Guardian, her father’s title and responsibilities now passed on to her.

  Estral accepted her father’s signet ring, and his harp brooch—Rennard still wore hers.

  “The king has commanded that I lead these others as an honor guard for Lord Fiori’s final journey home to Selium. If we may help you prepare for departure, we will go as far as the Green Cloak today.”

  A deep sob arose from Estral, and Karigan, her own eyes wet with tears, went to comfort her friend.

  • • •

  Karigan helped Estral pack as much as she could. Enver had ordered her not to lift anything, so she folded clothes and blankets. Connly, meanwhile, readied Coda.

  “I would like to go with you,” Karigan said as she rolled up Estral’s bedding in their tent.

  “I know you can’t.” Estral’s voice was fading, had become wispy, and not just from the crying.

  “I will come as soon as I am able to. I promise.”

  Estral turned to her. “Don’t make promises you can’t keep.” Karigan was about to protest, but Estral grasped her wrist. “You still need to recuperate, and you’ve duties. I know this. You could write me a real letter now and then, though.”

  Karigan grimaced. She was ever the abysmal correspondent, but she’d make an extra effort in Estral’s case.

  “I will come when I can,” she said firmly.

  “Enver explained to us what went on at the keep, what you did, what you faced. Who you are. Can you . . . can you see my father?”

  “I already did. Back at the keep. He asked me to look after you. He heard music, and when he left, he walked into starshine. He looked . . . joyful.” And when she thought about it, she knew it to be true.

  Estral broke into racking sobs and Karigan did what she could to comfort her.

  “I don’t know what I’m going to do without him,” Estral said, sniffing. “I can’t be the Golden Guardian.”

  “Your father knew you could,” Karigan said, “and I know you can. You were practically running Selium anyway when he was off on his travels.”

  “But Karigan, how can I be without my voice? It’s going away. The Golden Guardian must have a voice.”

  “I don’t know, but it seems to me you are capable of quite a lot. And didn’t you tell me you’d found another voice with your writing?”

  Estral hugged her journal. “That was before my father—” She swallowed hard. “That was before my father passed away. What is the Golden Guardian without a voice? So much to do. Without my voice I won’t be able to—”

  “Estral, you just need to think about mourning right now, getting your father home. You need to take care of yourself. I’ll make sure that the king permits a message to go to your mother so she knows what you’re up against. And Alton. Alton needs to know.”

  “You’ll take care of that for me?”

  “Even if I am the worst letter writer ever, yes, I will see it done. Your friends are many and we love you.”

  • • •

  Estral looked forlorn as she rode Coda out of camp, Lieutenant Rennard walking at her stirrup, and the honor guard following with their sad burden.

  Karigan felt forlorn herself, having to say good-bye, and especially the reason for it. In time, she was certain Estral would become comfortable in her role as Golden Guardian, and she would make the office her own. In the meantime? It would be damnably tough, and she hoped all the staff at Selium would do their utmost to support her. Karigan thought that, in addition to letters to Alton and Estral’s mother, she’d write Master Rendle and Melry, and others, to ensure Estral had friends around her.

  Once Estral and her escorts vanished from sight, Karigan found herself trembling from fatigue and emotion.

  “Perhaps you should sit down and have something to eat,” Connly suggested.

  “In a little bit.”

  First she needed to go hug her horse.

  MISTER WHISKERS RETURNS

  Everything was falling apart, Alton thought. Estral had left him, King Zachary was missing, and his Green Rider helpers had been recalled to Sacor City. Even Dale. No one else was able to enter the towers, and not for lack of trying. Though the tower mages to the east of the breach could communicate with him, it was not the same as having his fellow Riders, his friends, to assist and keep watch. He guessed he’d keep trying to bring in members of his clan to see if any of the old stoneworking magic remained in the blood of his family and allowed them entry to the towers. So far he’d met with no success.

  Now he stood in Tower of the Heavens in a passage beneath the west arch that put him in direct contact with the wall. His hands were pressed against the cool, grainy texture of solid granite, and his consciousness drifted among the sparkling flecks of feldspar and hornblende, and the crystalline structures of quartz. He heard the voices of the wall guardians in song, those disembodied, magical stoneworkers of old whose sacrifices had made the wall strong enough to withstand the ages.

  Their song held the wall together, which in turn held the evil of Blackveil at bay. Periodically, Alton communed with the wall and its guardians to help maintain the song and its magic. The guardians accepted him, did not begrudge his presence, but it was clear they missed Estral. Her music and voice had done so much more than strengthen the wall, and in fact, they reduced the cracks that radiated from the breach. Much more than he had done or could do. He sensed the disappointment of the guardians when he made contact and it was just him. He tried to not let it affect his mood as he worked with them, but they only reflected what he truly felt himself.

  He came back to himself and dropped contact. Out in the main chamber he found Merdigen sitting in a chair combing out his long, ivory beard.

  “The wall has not yet fallen, I see,” the great mage said.

  “No, it hasn’t.”

  “I wish Lady Estral would return. You’ve been so sulky since she left. Especially since the other Riders departed for the city. I still can’t imagine what is more important than the wall that they had to be recalled.”

  “The king, remember? They’re supposed to help look for the king.”

  Merdigen shrugged. “Why the urgency to find the king? You have a queen, after all.”

  Merdigen’s priorities tended to be rather skewed at times.

  “I need some fresh air,” Alton said.

  “Sure, sure, leave me alone. Me and my beard.�
��

  Alton shook his head. Just before he stepped through the tower wall to the outside world, he heard Merdigen mutter, “I wish I could go out and have some fresh air.”

  The weather was fine, so Alton saddled up Night Hawk for a ride down to the main encampment at the breach. Hawk tossed his head and pranced, and Alton was assailed by guilt that he did not pay his horse nearly enough attention.

  • • •

  At the main encampment he examined the cracks around the breach, made measurements, and recorded his findings in his logbook. He took reports from the officers on duty there. They kept watch over the breach and into Blackveil Forest. All was quiet, they said. They saw little but the undulating mist on the other side of the wall, and heard little but the occasional scream of some creature within.

  “Would you like to take a look, sir?” Corporal Mannis asked. She’d just descended the ladder that leaned against the repairwork of the breach where she’d been keeping watch.

  Alton stiffened. It was something he avoided after having been pushed over the side and left to perish in Blackveil. Not that anyone here would do that to him again, but the mere thought of climbing the ladder made him sweat.

  “Look!” someone shouted, and pointed to the sky.

  Two large shapes circled overhead. Soldiers nocked arrows and aimed crossbows.

  “No, wait!” Alton ordered. He shielded his eyes against the sun, wishing he had thought to bring along his spyglass. Were the two circling creatures what he thought they were? Or, were they monsters from Blackveil?

  They descended toward the earth in lazy spirals, one tawny, the other black with raven wings. Not monsters of Blackveil, he decided. Mister Whiskers had succeeded in his mission, unless this was just a friend of his and not a mate.

  “Put your weapons away,” he ordered the soldiers. “Mister Whiskers has come home.” Merdigen would be pleased. If Alton had been sulky since the departure of his friends, Merdigen had been sullen since the departure of his cat.