by Cat Bruno
“Of course she must agree with all that we have discussed, but I have thought long on this. Aldric and I think it best that she tell the council that she is with child and heading back to Eirrannia.”
With a gasp, Bronwen cried, “Is that your plan? To have her take the babe north?”
“Of course not,” Willem answered. “Unless Conri can assure you that you will not be found.”
Settling back into her chair, she muttered, “Little of this makes sense to me.”
“Have you heard of the Lightkeepers, Bronwen?” Aldric asked, breaking out of his silence.
When she shook her head, he said, “Long ago, before the current peace between Tribe and mage, the Lightkeepers formed, an army against the dark, you might say. While they have had little to do in recent moon years, the Lightkeepers have not forgotten their original mission.”
“What of it?” she asked.
As if he talked to a child, Aldric replied, “They can sense dark magic, and, if you become known to them, I do not know what they would do.”
“You speak as if all will know of the babe!” she cried.
In the same voice, Aldric asked, “I do not think it the wisest path to go to the King’s City, Bronwen, yet it is not my choice.”
“Where would you have me go then?” she yelled.
With a sigh, Aldric answered, “To the Tribelands.”
Bronwen’s face whitened as she sunk further into the pillowed seat. He would have me go to Conri.
Without looking at either man, she whispered, “You would make her Tribe.”
In a voice as soft as sand, Aldric said, “I would see you safe. And the babe too.”
“You know what he is!” she cried in response.
“He is her father.”
Jumping from the chair and shaking her head, Bronwen yelled, “I will not go to him. If the King’s City is unsafe and I can not return to the Academy, then I will leave Cordisia altogether.”
Hurriedly, she added, “What of Eirrannia? Will she not be safe there?”
Aldric looked to Willem, who said, “From what you have told us of the girl, Eirrannia will be her home. If you decide against the Healer Journey, then, on the morrow, I will take you north.”
“Half of my life I have been in training, and, now, you want me to leave it all?”
Willem rose from his own seat, walked to her, and reached for her hand. “You are healer still. And will be. The Master Council need not bestow the title upon you for it to be true.”
His words, as kind as they were, meant little to her. He still sought to talk her from going to Rexterra, she knew.
After a few moments she said, “Give me a few moons to help the king, and, if I cannot or it is no longer safe, I promise to go to Eirrannia. I must at least try to heal him, much for myself as for him.”
From the way that Willem dropped her hand and turned to face Aldric, Bronwen realized that her words were not unexpected ones.
“It is as you said, Aldric,” Willem called. “The plans are unchanged.”
She turned away from him, faced Aldric, and asked, “Do you think it will be possible for us to make it to the King’s City unnoticed? Are you not known there? How will we explain what it is that we are doing? And why I have you with me.”
“We need to explain nothing. Travelers enter and exit through the main gates of the King’s City each day, more than you could count. We shall be no different from them. I have not been there for a few moon years, but, even when I have returned, no one has taken any notice of me. I was not forced to leave Rexterra, only the Mage-Guild, and so there is nothing stopping me from entering Rexterra. The two are not so connected that I will be known after so many moon years gone.”
Aldric continued, “You are a Northerner, Bronwen, which will only help us further. I believe that we should travel under the guise that you are a daughter of considerable wealth visiting the King’s City. Such a story has happened many times, and many such girls come for travel and shop. No father would let his daughter travel unaccompanied if he could afford to hire guards, and, if we act the part, without nervousness, then it will be quite easy to enter the city. Once we have entered the city, however, it might become more difficult.”
To Willem, Aldric said, “Surely, sir, you will have some advice on how to gain admittance to the palace. You might not be able to accompany us, Willem, but your knowledge will keep us from harm’s way.”
Shaking his head, Willem gruffly replied, “Yes, I suppose that much is true. If she must go, then I must prepare her as well as I can.”
As the sun gently glided from its midday high to a late afternoon slant, Willem told them all he could remember about the King’s City, focusing heavily on the royal family, including King Herrin, his own uncle, and his cousins too, Crispin and Delwin. After spending several hours discussing his family, some of which Aldric already knew, Willem described the palace itself in great detail. With Aldric in tow, it would be difficult to enter the palace, yet there were entrances that few had knowledge of, and it was those that Willem wanted them to seek, he told them.
Finally, when most had been settled, Bronwen rose.
Before she could turn, Willem added, in a hushed voice and with grave eyes, “Never before have I called on my cousin, but I fear the need is now here. But, you must only seek him out once you are inside the palace, and, then, only with men wearing his crest, which is not the same as the King’s Guard. He has a handful of men that are loyal to him and serve as the Heir’s Watch. You will be able to identify them by their colors and by the emblem embroidered on the back of their jackets. The colors of the Heir’s Watch are deep blue and silver, and they bear the sign of the rising sun. Tell them you have word from Nicoline. But it must only be to an Heir’s Watch that you speak those words. Do you understand?”
After she had nodded her head, he continued, “Once you are brought to him, you must tell him straight away that I have sent you. Since reading the letter, I have suspected that it was he who sent it. He will welcome you as healer.”
“But you must get to him, and that is not easy as he is heir and few have access to him without cause. Listen to me, Bronwen, and do not fail to remember these names! Tell his men that you have been sent to speak with Lord Crispin about Nicoline, and when you are with him, and only in absolute privacy, you must tell him who you are and what word the Academy has received. He will most likely recognize Aldric, and, again, you must assure him that you all travel with my support and aid. Then, tell him that you are there for his father and identify yourself as a healer. Do not give him word of the babe you carry, Bronwen. Not yet. Let nothing be known about the babe until you have healed the king.”
After a lengthy pause, Willem added, “And, Bronwen, do I need to remind you how essential it will be that you actually do heal the king?”
“Even if his condition is irreversible or dark-touched? What shall I do then? I am not mage-trained, Willem and have limits just as any other healer would, and I do not doubt that the best have already been called in to treat the king,” Bronwen answered.
“Bronwen, the babe inside you is dark-touched, god-touched even. There is more power there than any mage could seek to have. You must find a way to transfer that power to the king. I believe it can be done, although Aldric would know more than I about that. But, you must not fail, and the king must not die. Not yet. If this is truly the path that you must walk, then perhaps there are reasons that I do not know. But know this, if Delwin becomes king, all will change. War will be upon all of Cordisia.”
Bronwen gasped and whispered, “How could that be, Willem? Surely one death could not cause such consequences.”
“For one who is not Rexterran born or raised, it is difficult to explain, Bronwen. But, I have not misspoken, and that is why you must not let the king die. Rexterra is the heart of Cordisia, and King Herrin is the heart of Rexterra. It is he who has long kept the peace between mage and Tribe, between Eirrannia and Rexterra.”
&nbs
p; “Why would you not have me go if his death means so much?” she cried.
His eyes blazing as if aflame, Willem answered, “Because your death means more.”
Hours later, she stumbled home, thinking of nothing but sleep.
59
He hadn’t been in time to attend the meeting of the Master Council, much his own fault as he had spent several hours with Louissia instead, yet Pietro was far from upset, especially since the information that she had given him had offered him a clearer idea of what was happening with Bronwen. He had not been overly surprised to hear that she would leave the Academy, for she would have needed to for her Healer Journey, he knew. Yet she was to make for Rexterra, his homeland, one which he had not seen for many moon years. It should have been me, he thought, walking faster.
Even though he had not been at the session, Pietro hurried to the Master Torino’s rooms, hoping to learn more of what was discussed. Soon, he knew, he would have to contact the Tribesman and tell him of what he had learned. Before he did so, Pietro wanted to better understand what it was that Bronwen had planned, and how much she had kept hidden from the Master Council.
Once they know, the Master Council will expel her from the Academy, and I will be sent to tend the king instead.
With a smile, he ran until he saw the faded door of Master Torino’s appear around a corner, thinking on his return to Rexterra as Master Apprentice.
60
“And you think this is wise, is that it?”
“Wise? No, certainly not. But, what other options are available? You cannot protect her forever, Willem, nor can you change what has already occurred. Have you not noticed how her body has rounded? Oh sure, Bronwen has tried to hide it with larger robes, but soon none will doubt her condition. And then what?”
The two men were seated in the courtyard, tinted orange under the setting sun, each with a wine-filled goblet in hand. Back and forth the two argued, each listening to what the other had to say, but swaying little in opinion. Bronwen had departed hours before, yet neither Willem nor Aldric had followed. Both knew that she would not have allowed it, so they remained, finishing another cask of wine.
Willem gulped what was left in his goblet and slammed it down into a small wooden table beside his chair. His movements were slow and the glass tumbled from the table, empty. His words were thick as he said, “Interesting that you would notice that, my friend when I had not.”
Aldric twisted his own long-stemmed glass in his hand, watching as the last rays of sunlight struck the patterned glass and cast rosy-hued streaks over the ground.
As he played, he replied, slowly, “I notice much of what others do not. Sometimes your feelings for Bronwen cloud what is so obvious to others.”
Aldric thought that Willem would fume, yet, instead, he muttered, “It was not jest when I told her that I would take her from here. He is not so powerful to take on all of Eirrannia.”
Without naming him, Aldric answered, “I’m surprised that you know so little of the Tribe. Have you not heard of the rift between Crow and Wolf?”
“This place here is unlike any I’ve been to. To say that we know little of what happens outside of our gates, as many suggest, is true. Last I knew a truce existed between mage and Tribe. What is it that you speak of?” Willem asked.
With a wave of a hand that looked frail, long and thin, Aldric said, “I have heard rumblings over the last few moons of a split among the three Tribes, mostly between Wolf and Crow. While they are kin, there is little love between them.”
Willem gasped, “Why tell me this only now, Aldric?”
“From what I know, nothing has been done yet, for both fear the wrath of their father. Willem, what more warning could I give? We both already know that Bronwen and the babe have been marked by hands stronger than our own.”
Stumbling to the ground, Willem grabbed his glass and looked around for more wine. After finding only empty jugs, he noisily rang the bell to summon Chien before falling back into his seat. Aldric watched, swaying slightly as he did.
Loudly, Willem exclaimed, “The babe will be born into war! Is that what you believe?”
As he began to answer, Chien entered the courtyard on quiet feet, yet he continued, “Conri is no fool, of that we can be certain. If the babe were in any danger, or Bronwen herself, he would not let her languish here at the Academy without aid. What his plans are will not be for us to know, but I have no reason to think word of the babe has spread. As much as we might not like it, the girl will be Tribe, kin to Crow and Bear, just as she will be kin to Nox as well. As such, she will be offered his protection.”
“This is no game, Aldric,” Willem spit.
“You think I do not know that?” Aldric cried.
After a moment, he added, “Until the babe is born, Bronwen will be safe, of that I am certain.”
“You are late in informing me of this, Aldric.”
With a huff, he answered, “You speak as if we could have changed anything.”
“Why has he not come for her?”
Again, Aldric noticed, Willem refused to speak the name of the High Lord.
“Perhaps that is how he will keep her safe,” Aldric replied.
As they spoke, Chien refilled their glasses, and Aldric lifted his to his lips, drinking hard.
“What of when she leaves?” Willem asked.
“There are ways in which I can keep her hidden or I would have not agreed that she go.”
Willem jumped from his chair, lunged to where Aldric sat, and grabbed the mage, pulling hard at his dull tunic.
Into his face, Willem screamed, “You have kept too much from me! I tell you this now in warning. Should anything happen to her or the babe, I will hold you responsible. And you will answer to me. I will set aside my healer’s oath if either is harmed!”
“Understood,” Aldric gravely replied, nodding his head.
When Willem released him, he quickly drained his glass, letting the deep-crimson wine linger on his tongue for a moment before swallowing it.
On unsteady feet, Willem called, “You will ward her in some way?”
Aldric looked again at Willem, and slowly, drunk and unable to keep the words from falling, explained, “Long ago I learned of earth magic from a woman I loved as much as you love Bronwen, perhaps. What she did not have time to teach me, I learned on my own after her death. Her kind are few in Cordisia, and none know what I do. As long as there is dirt beneath Bronwen’s feet, none will be able to find her. Not even Conri.”
Aldric rose, walking over to where the pitcher of wine rested on a finely tiled table, and poured until the dark liquid was nearly spilling over the rim of his glass. With his back toward Willem, he allowed a smile to creep across his face. For many moon years now, he had been wandering, so much so that now being at rest in one place for overlong felt as if he had been imprisoned, a fate he had narrowly avoided, in another lifetime it now seemed. In little over a day’s time, he would depart once again, with a woman he vowed to protect.
And, still, Leorra had not visited him.
Sipping at the bitter wine caused the smile to fade from his face.
“Do you know where things stand in Rexterra, Willem? Have Delwin and Crispin finally come to an understanding as to who will rule in their father’s place, if, gods be unkind, he dies?”
“I will need another glass of that awful wine if we are to discuss court politics, Aldric.”
With a laugh, Aldric walked toward him with the cask.
Once his glass was refilled, Willem continued, “I believe that things are much the same, although Delwin’s resentment grows strong. Between you and me, and this bottle of wine, I will admit to wondering if he is responsible for my uncle’s mysterious illness.”
“Surely even one such as he would not do such a thing! I have met him but a handful of times, and while I did not like the look or sound of him, I would never have guessed he capable of such a treasonous crime,” Aldric replied, his voice rising.
Willem’s fists banged against the softly carved wooden edges of his chair, and the sound echoed through the courtyard.
“There is little worse in my country than to kill one’s father! Yet, I would not be surprised, nor would his own brother I think, if it could be so proven. Alas, Crispin has no proof, only suspicion, and must bide his time and hope for the king’s recovery. Heed this warning, Aldric, and keep Bronwen well away from Delwin. He cannot be trusted, nor can those who are loyal to him. Do not even let her draw eyes upon him, for he has long had a way with women, which I never understood.”
The anger in Willem’s voice was undeniable, yet Aldric heard a touch of something else as well, jealousy perhaps. His hatred for the younger heir was evident, and Aldric wondered what could have caused the split, dividing cousin from cousin and brother from brother. He considered asking, but the night was darkening and they had more pressing issues to discuss. Within days, he and Bronwen would be on the road, each step sending them farther from the safe confines of the Academy and closer to Rexterra, a land where mages could whisper a plant into growing or create a ball of light from nothing but air.
And where a child born of the darkness would be the most desirable prize of all.
No, Aldric thought, keeping the words from leaving his mouth, knowing that they would only cause Willem further anguish, I cannot let that be. I must do what I can to keep Bronwen’s secret from being exposed, at all costs. For Leorra, the one whom I could not save.
If Willem had been watching, he would have noticed Aldric’s shoulders tense and his eyes close, his back hunched over as pain-filled memory gripped his body. He had not been able to shake himself free from the loss of Leorra while she haunted him, following him from battlefield to battlefield, trailing after him, calling on him to stop them, the light-bringers.
They blind me, she howled to him, night and day, they seek to take what is mine, what was my mother’s, and her mother’s before her. They seek to break what they cannot understand and bind my magics with shackles of light. Help me, Aldric, help me!
