Firebrand

by Kristen Britain

  That was very good news. “Thank you, Varius, I know this can’t be easy for you.”

  “It would be easier if you’d stop hurting yourself.”

  “I believe you know what I mean.”

  Varius let out a breath and nodded. “Because I am descended from Arcosia and was with Second Empire.” He walked over to the table and dropped into the chair. “There are many descendants of Arcosia across the lands, and not all are aligned with Second Empire. Your Rider G’ladheon is one such. How can it be helped? Arcosia’s people, all men, were abandoned here by the emperor. Naturally, the men took wives from the populace and otherwise spread their seed. Second Empire will not admit it, but they are more Sacoridian or Rhovan than Arcosian, despite their ancestors and inbreeding.”

  “Yes, of course, but you were still here with Grandmother, part of Second Empire.”

  “Second Empire monitors its own. Should any knowingly betray them, or do anything to offend its leader, they are dealt with. They disappear. Grandmother took great store in punishing intransigence. I am from Penburn, got my training there. I was aware of my heritage, but didn’t think much of it, didn’t attend meetings or engage with my local sect. I was content with my life as a Sacoridian practicing his calling. Alas, Grandmother and the others value menders, especially with war coming, and I was not given a choice as to whether or not to uproot and spend a miserable winter in this keep.

  “When I received my mastery in mending, I took an oath to do no harm. I practice my skills, my gifts, not for a political entity, or because I was forced to be here, but because I value life.”

  Zachary had liked Varius from the outset and now liked him even more, but his position was difficult. “You do realize I can’t just set you free.”

  “I do. All I ask is to be of service in some way, to be able to use my skills.”

  Zachary thought he knew how. “There will be prisoner camps out on some of the islands. They will need menders.”

  Varius bowed his head in acceptance.

  • • •

  Once Zachary finished his porridge, he dressed in his borrowed Black Shield uniform, now cleaned and mended. He threw a cloak on, and he and Donal went outside as Varius had suggested. He found members of the River Unit and some of his fellow, former slaves repairing walls and doors, and bracing existing, precarious walls. Out where he had spent so long carrying rocks and debris, he found prisoners, under the watchful gaze of guards, blocking the passage to the Aeon Iire and building cairns over their dead. Grandmother’s corpse, he was told, was simply tossed in with the rest of Second Empire’s dead with no special consideration.

  Out by the pickets, he found Karigan brushing Condor. She still moved slowly and with great stiffness.

  He cleared his throat so as not to startle her as he approached. “Good morning.”

  “Good morning,” she replied with a half bow.

  Of a sudden, his dream came flooding back to him and he grew hot, felt a tightening of his loins. He cleared his throat again. “Condor is looking grand.”

  She smiled. “It is good to see you back on your feet.”

  He returned her smile, an awkward silence falling between them.

  “I am thinking we can begin the journey back to Sacor City in a day or two,” he said, “if you are ready for it.”

  She swiped the brush over Condor’s hindquarters a couple times before turning back to him. “I will not be returning just yet, unless you command otherwise.”

  “If it’s your back, we can wait longer, but I don’t want to delay too much.”

  “You must return,” she said. “The realm needs you, but my mission is not complete.”

  “The p’ehdrose? You still mean to seek them out?”

  “Enver says the entrance to their valley is not far from here. This whole time, even before . . . even before what happened to me, he was searching.”

  Zachary could not tell her to abandon a mission he’d assigned her, and she had that determined look on her face he’d grown to know so well.

  “I need to do this,” she said.

  “May I ask why you are so set on this? Besides the fact I gave you the mission?”

  She looked at the ground, then back at him. “After what Nyssa did to me, I have been unable to do much. Enver will not allow me to pick up or carry even small loads. I don’t know if I can return to being a swordmaster, or handle a sword at all. The avatar you saw was not me, really, but the power of Westrion. Without that, I am physically weak, not useful for much of anything.”

  “Karigan—” he protested.

  “Please, let me finish. As bad as what Nyssa did to my body was, it’s nothing compared to what she did in here.” She tapped her head. “I do not have . . . Nyssa stripped my confidence. I am unsure of myself, of what I can do. If I go to the p’ehdrose, that is something I can do.”

  “Oh, Karigan,” he murmured. He felt her pain as his own, as he had often questioned his competence as he healed from the assassin’s arrow. “If you only knew how I see you. When your wounds were so fresh, you rescued me from Grandmother, and that took unbelievable strength. And I will not discount your role as avatar, either, for not just anyone could fill it and keep a sane mind. Connly told me of the messages you are having sent out in support of Estral. These are not small things. You are more than useful—you are essential, and I would have it no other way. Seek out the p’ehdrose if you must—I will not deny you. If anyone can make them our allies, it is you.” He was disappointed, however, they would not be riding back together.

  “Thank you,” she replied.

  “I know words won’t change what you feel inside,” he said, “but I hope they bring you some peace. Recovering from what you went through, it will take time. When you finish with the p’ehdrose, hurry home to us. I suspect your colonel will be just as happy to see you as I.”

  Karigan’s smile indicated she had heard the news about Laren’s promotion. “My poor father,” she said.

  “Your father?”

  “Uh, they’ve become friends, he and the captain. My father seems fated to be surrounded by commanding women.”

  “Ah, your aunts.” And you, he thought. He knew how Stevic G’ladheon must feel.

  “Exactly,” she replied.

  He wished there was more to be said, wished he could demonstrate to her how he felt, but there was no privacy, too many eyes and ears near the horse pickets. Perhaps before they parted ways?

  • • •

  Unfortunately, he did not see her again until the morning of his departure when many of the River Unit and the former slaves came to see him off. He shook hands with Destarion and Varius.

  “You have both done good work here,” he told them. “You saved many lives, including my own. For that, I thank you.”

  Destarion looked particularly pleased by his words. “It is my honor to serve, and I will continue to do well by the River Unit.”

  Down the line, Captain Dannyn clicked his heels together and bowed to him. Zachary complimented him on how well and how quickly the old keep was being organized and fortified.

  When he reached Lorilie Dorran, he asked, “What will you do now?”

  “Rest for a time, I think,” she said. “I’ve friends in North whom I’ll stay with for a while, then who knows? If you are ever in need of a good book on equitable governance, I recommend Beyond Monarchy: A Republic for the People, by Edwin Grommer, who—”

  “I have read all of Grommer’s work,” Zachary replied. He found the look of profound surprise on Lorilie’s face gratifying.

  “Uh, well then, if you ever need an advisor on alternate governments, seek me out.”

  “I will do that.” He couldn’t help but grin when her eyes went wide.

  Down the line he went, speaking some personal words of farewell to each of the assembled. When he reached Enver, he
extended his hand for a shake.

  “Thank you for all you have done,” he told the Eletian. “You are welcome to my home in Sacor City any time. When next I see Prince Jametari, I intend to extend my high regard of you to him.”

  “Thank you, Firebrand.” There was a flash of that coldness again in Enver’s eyes.

  Zachary leaned closely and said in a soft voice, “Please continue to watch over Karigan, and return her home as soon as you may.”

  “I will.” Enver glanced toward Karigan and Zachary sensed a . . . possessiveness?

  Was it a mistake to allow the two to travel together? But when he looked back at Enver, the Eletian seemed as good-natured as ever, almost as if Zachary had imagined anything else. Was it his own jealousy making him misread the situation? He shook his head and continued down the line.

  At the end stood Karigan. She gave him her stiff half-bow.

  “Stay safe,” he said, “and good wishes to you in coaxing the p’ehdrose to our cause.”

  “Thank you, sire.”

  Because there were so many watching and listening, he kept his words careful. “I would be much too ill-humored were you to delay your return home by too long, Rider. We cannot do without you.” Let the others try to figure out if “we” meant everyone in general back at the castle, or if he was using the royal “we” to indicate only himself. He hoped Karigan could tell.

  She gave him a barely perceptible smile. “I will be home before you know it.”

  He nodded, pleased, but thought how much more complicated it would be when she did return. He’d become no better than a cad, he thought, who dishonored both Karigan and Estora. He did not deserve either of them. He was about to turn away, but paused. “I hope you do not mind if I hold on to your sword for a while longer.” He patted the hilt.

  “Of course not,” she said.

  “My thanks.” He smiled and continued to where Donal held the reins to his horse borrowed from the River Unit. After the battle, the sword had been found half-buried in the melting snow. He did not intend to return it to Karigan, for it was soiled by his use of it, by his madness and rage during the battle, and from all the killing. He intended she have another when she returned, one that was unsullied, and which she could use to regain her strength. He was determined that she train once more as a swordmaster.

  He mounted his horse and, accompanied by Donal, Connly, and a dozen guards, departed. He glanced over his shoulder before the keep and clearing were lost to sight, and saw that she alone lingered to watch him leave.

  RIDER ASH

  Elgin used a horsehair brush to remove lint and dust from Laren’s formal longcoat. It tickled in some spots, and she, someone who did not giggle, couldn’t help but giggle.

  “Not very dignified,” Elgin muttered.

  She’d never had an orderly before, and now Elgin seemed to take to the job, and voluntarily, like he was born to it.

  “I’ll brush you off and see how you like it,” she said.

  Much had changed since her promotion. She now occupied the largest rooms in officers quarters. The bed chamber was separate from the public room. There were even a small office and separate bathing room. The trade-off, of course, was having to take on greater responsibilities and deal with the other colonels and high officers. They’d looked askance at her infringing on their meetings. She could read their disdain for her just by looking at their faces—she didn’t need her ability for that. It was clear in their manner that they did not believe she deserved to be among them, even though General Washburn had informed them she was there by royal command.

  It was not unlike when she had become Rider captain years ago, but the other captains and lieutenants were accustomed to there being Rider captains, male or female, among them. Eventually they got used to her. The higher officers would get used to her, as well. They’d little choice. Their copious amounts of gold braid and medals did not intimidate her at all. She now had some nice gold braid herself.

  Elgin set aside his brush and retrieved her sash of blue-green plaid. He started to wind it around her waist.

  “I can do that,” she said, snatching it from him.

  “All the other colonels have orderlies to dress ’em.”

  “You are not dressing me.” She took the sash and knotted it around her waist.

  He gazed at her work in disapproval. “Can’t even tie a decent sash knot.”

  “Elgin.”

  He waited with his hand held out. She untied the sash in resignation and handed it over. He straightened it out, carefully wound it twice around her waist, and tied a far neater knot. He then handed her her swordbelt, and this he let her buckle on herself.

  She looked in the mirror to see the effect of the gold braid and new insignia, and the flourishes Estora insisted be added to her dress coats. Around her collar were embroidered gold wings, the tips nearly touching at the nape of her neck. Her cuffs featured gold embroidered feathers. She laughed at herself. Elgin looked indignant.

  “Finally you get what you deserve and you laugh?”

  It only made her laugh harder. “I’ve gotten what I deserve all right. Maybe those other officers will like me better with all the gold thread, but I doubt it.”

  “Hmph. I do think there is something missing.”

  “Oh, please don’t bring that up. You know I prefer not to remember.”

  “Did you stop to think you dishonor their memory by not wearing what was given you?”

  “Elgin, I can’t.”

  “It was a long time ago and we all hurt, but now it is time for your Riders to see their captain, their new colonel, in a different light.” He went into her office and opened a drawer—she had an actual desk now—and withdrew a flat box. How in the hells did he know where she kept it? He brought it out and flipped the lid back, and metal glinted. “I even polished them for you.”

  “Elgin, I don’t—”

  “If you can’t wear ’em for yourself, wear ’em for your Riders, the ones here now, and the ones who are not.”

  She looked away, closed her eyes. All that the medals in that box represented to her was blood. Not valor, but blood.

  “Make them proud, Red,” Elgin said.

  “Queen Isen used to hand out medals like calling cards.”

  “She did not, and saying so devalues the sacrifices of many. Those were dangerous times. I bet none of those baby-faced generals you’ve got to deal with were even out of nappies during the time of the Darrow Raiders. You should wear these when you meet with them and remind them that these aren’t the only dangerous times, and that you’re not just a nobody the queen picked.” When she hesitated, he added, “The Riders did most of the hard, dangerous work against the Raiders. They need to remember. We need to remember the sacrifices, and you are being selfish.”

  Selfish, was she? She shook her head and relented because it was easier than arguing with Elgin. Three medals for valor during the Darrow Raiders, one for the mission that had caused her to be almost split in half by a knife, which had left its own prominent mark on her. Several lesser medals for actions in combat, and several colorful campaign ribbons.

  She gazed in the mirror once again, sobered by difficult memories. But making light of it, she said, “I am not sure I can stand the glare of all the shiny stuff.”

  Elgin laughed, as she had hoped he would, and the city bell tolled three hour.

  “Better get going,” he said. “Your Riders will be waiting for you.”

  • • •

  She’d told them they’d be meeting in the records room beneath the stained glass dome of the First Rider—not to mourn this time, but to go over matters of organization and to celebrate King Zachary’s victory in the Lone Forest against Second Empire, as well as the demise of Grandmother and Immerez. Many of the details were unclear, like how Zachary had ended up there in the first place, what had happened to t
he aureas slee, and how Karigan and her companions had come into the picture.

  Connly tried to feed Trace as much as he knew, but he seemed to be withholding some details until they were able to speak in person. He had sent the news about Lord Fiori, which was a huge blow, not only to Selium, but to the entire realm. He had always been such a grand presence, had been wise and generous, and he’d be missed. Laren had sent up a prayer for Estral to be able to cope with all that she must now endure with his passing.

  When she arrived at the records room, her Riders were waiting for her, the stained glass dome alight from above, with its richly colored panels celebrating the heroics of the First Rider and the end of the Long War. There were only about thirty Riders in residence at the moment. Most were still out looking for Zachary. She could not wait for them all to return.

  When her Riders noticed her and saw her regalia, they all stiffened to attention.

  Well, she thought. That didn’t happen often. The Green Riders rarely stood on formality.

  “Be at ease,” she told them.

  They all gazed expectantly at her. It was good to have Riders there whom she hadn’t seen in a while: Dale, Fergal, Trace, and others. She’d made sure Anna had come, too, and there was Mara, poor, frazzled Mara, who was now trying to do Connly’s job, as well as her own.

  “As you have no doubt heard,” Laren said, clasping her hands behind her back, “the king has been found after unknown adventures, has waged battle against Second Empire and won, and is now on his way home.”

  Shouts of “hurrah” echoed around the chamber. Laren had shouted her own happiness in the privacy of her new quarters.

  She spoke a little about Lord Fiori and others who had lost their lives—her friend, Captain Treman, a Weapon trainee named Rye, among numerous others. Her Riders regarded her with solemnity during this part. Most would not have met Lord Fiori, but many had known Estral.