"Don't you ever talk?" asked Dannen.
"Are those your final words in this life?" asked Kirkes. He still did not appear to tense for attack. The guard's jaw quivered, his teeth grinding.
Dannen screamed and rushed forward. Kirkes deflected his blade then sliced the body going past. Dannen slumped to the floor, his hands holding the gash in his ribs, the blood flowing through his fingers. Kirkes brought down his sword, ending the guard's life.
"Yes, I guess those were your last words."
He hurried to catch Apal.
Carle's shirt still clung to him after the trauma of the rescue. Glad he helped but more happy that he was through with it. Still, he felt a foreboding of trouble ahead. He glanced behind several times, trying to shake the feeling of being followed. He began a circular route, and then alternated streets, hoping to confuse any one tailing him. He reached Dellana's building and entered quickly.
"Hello, Carle. Enter quickly." Again she appeared freshly bathed and Carle stumbled over his words as he watched her walk in the damp tunic. "Were you followed?"
"I don't know. I might have been. Probably not connected with you."
"You don't know? Garlac is having us followed, as is Daass. Anyone else that I don't know about?"
"Perhaps the king."
"Please explain." Her voice was cold.
"I assisted in the escape of Kirkes and the queen from the dungeon. I may have been followed after that."
Dellana's mouth dropped open.
"What have you done?" she cried. Carle tried to cover her mouth but she pushed him away. "Lord Daass will kill us for that."
"Us? You weren't involved."
"In Daass' eyes we are involved in all things. It is not bad enough that Garlac watches us, but Treteste as well? We are not so important, Carle. Why do this to us? We shall be destroyed by the powers in the world, unable to resist. This is not the life I wanted."
"What did you want?"
Dellana sat silently, gathering her thoughts.
"I was to be married to the younger son of a noble. A house on a farm and hard work awaited us. We were so happy." She grew silent.
"What happened?"
"His family... You do not truly want to know."
"I do, I do."
"I can tell what you really want. I will not speak of it more. I thought the Brotherhood of the Rose would be a peaceful, contemplative place for me, but it has never been. I am planning on leaving the order." She did not look at him and did not see the joy on his face. He had recovered his composure by the time she did look at him.
"Where will you go?" asked Carle.
"I do not know yet. Wherever I go it must be where Garlac cannot find me."
"Garlac? What has he done to you?"
Dellana looked out the window. Her fingers traced the patterns in the curtains as her tears traced the lines in her face. Carle waited for her to speak again, knowing not to interrupt her reverie.
"What will you do?" asked Dellana.
"I don't know," said Carle. "I think the Brotherhood is no longer the place for me."
"What trade do you know?"
"None. Except teaching. I could teach children."
"But only nobility can afford to hire teachers. Could you work for them?"
"I do not know. Perhaps there is a small town somewhere that has a use for a man of my training. Perhaps they will clothe and feed and house me for my work. I can think of nothing that I deserve other than that."
"To listen to you speak is not uplifting. You have many good qualities. You will find a life that suits you, I know it." He reached for her but she turned away. "No. Not here. Not now."
"When?"
"I don't know. Someday soon. In our new lives perhaps."
"How will I find you?" asked Carle.
She wiped her eyes. "I will find you. Trust me."
Deenie closed the door after Apal and the queen entered. For the first time, Deenie saw Richela close up. The queen's pale face found the grace to smile at Deenie.
"You are all so kind."
Apal drew a cloak around her bedclothes.
"It was the least we could do," said Apal. "We thought you might like us to finish our performance. We were interrupted."
She laughed. It reminded Deenie of bells in the church where her parents once brought her. The sound stayed with her always. She decided she liked the queen.
"Your performance in the dungeon was good enough. Do you think Sir Kirkes will join us when he finishes with the guard?"
"It was his intention," said Apal.
"You sound as if you aren't worried about him," said Deenie. Apal smiled at her.
"Sir Kirkes will never be defeated in combat," said Richela. "Not even the berserker of Wierland can withstand him. But it does not mean I do not worry."
Apal sat in the corner next to Melana, rubbing her bruises. She smiled, kissing him.
"I would have come for you."
"I know. This worked out better. Do you know the Brother?"
"I know much about Brother Carle. I will try to help him escape from Daass' grip if I can. But it will have to wait until Treteste is dethroned."
"Apal," said the queen. "I heard rumor that Prince Estes lives. Is that true?"
"You tell her, Rapert."
"Yes, Lady Richela. I am alive." He stepped out of the shadows. Deenie moved to his side.
The queen nodded her head. "Good. Treteste must die. Are you ready to be king?"
"To answer honestly, no. I have seen much in these last days that convince me of that. But I am ready to help rid Calendia of your husband."
"Do not blame me for him. I am glad you answered honestly and know it. Treteste was not ready to rule. He is a beast."
Estes nodded. He wondered how he could help this woman, this wife of the traitor.
"If I am king, what do you want me to do with you?"
Richela laughed again. "Nothing. I want no claim to the throne. I just want to live my life. Perhaps the wife of a knight would suit me." They all smiled with her.
Chapter 14
Navir watched the red hawk make its kill. He chuckled to himself. Every hawk he saw drew his undivided attention no matter what task at hand. Three hawks so far today. This one seemed larger than usual and he watched it take its dinner to a tree, tall and stretching over a river. He sat down in a shady spot, leaning back against a tree; his eyes alert for signs of the hawk. He felt the piercing eyes before he spotted it. He sighed.
It proved difficult for Navir to keep his attention focused on the events in Calendia. He promised Apal his assistance but his mind drifted away from such things and so did he. He provided some help but now while war raged outside the white walls of Nantitet, Navir found himself miles away watching birds. He had not realized how different Men were than Daerlan. Truly different. He hoped he could find a home far from other Daerlan. He would not return to his father, ever. Yet, he was different from the Men he dwelled among. His understanding of Men he now knew to be faulty. Was there a place for him? His daughter would not understand his actions any more than Apal or even Kirkes. He could not understand them. It some ways he understood Kirkes and the abandonment of his past, but not his devotion to another man's wife. Navir felt truly lost. The cool breeze relaxed him and he thought of Wynne.
He opened his eyes, unaware that he had slept. The red hawk perched on a low branch just over his head. Its eyes keenly stared at him. He sat waiting for the bird to fly away. Its beauty brought a smile to his lips. They remained still; gazes locked. Then the hawk's wings spread as it glided down to him. Even as the talons touched the ground the image shimmered and Wynne stood before Navir.
Neither one spoke immediately.
"Blackthorne told me the truth," said Wynne, at last. The words came hard. "Why couldn't you?"
"There did not appear to be a need to concern myself with your heritage. I am a Daerlan. Daerlan do not raise their own children. The community raises the children."
"Neither do they mate with Wierluns! They kill them!" Wynne's eyes filled with tears. "Why! Why do Daerlan kill Wierluns?"
"I do not know the full tale, but it is a shameful part of our history. Tuors are wound into the story but it was before I was born. My father had already led armies against Wierluns when I was but a babe."
"Berimar seemed upset by it himself. He said there was some connection between Tuors and Daerlan and since Daerlan would not speak of it, he would not either."
"You saw Berimar?"
"At Blackthorne's house."
"He was there? Why? What business did they transact?" Navir got to his feet, eyes flashing.
"Berimar warned Blackthorne that Lady Galamog would attack Calendia."
"Really? How generous of him. Were there Tuors there? Did Berimar buy any from Blackthorne?"
Her mouth dropped open. "So it is true. I trusted Blackthorne. He is aptly named. Berimar said Blackthorne sold him Daerlan for his experiments. I did not want to believe it. How can he help us one minute, while he's selling Daerlan and other species? I really trusted him."
"His goals are his own although he can be a friend if you have nothing for him to take from you." He sat silently, and then turned to her. "I believe he told you about me to get you to leave his home alone. And in rushing away forget what it was that brought you there. Did you have the Faerion?"
"Yes. It remains at Blackthorne's house. I know you need to return it to your father, but he ordered my mother killed. By your brother."
"Aelan. I admired him when I was younger. I will kill him when I see him again. I tried to kill him once."
"What about us?" asked Wynne. "Can you be a father?"
"You are grown up, Wynne. Why do you need a father? I do not understand it in human terms."
"I need one now, perhaps more than before. I have suddenly found my father, heard tales of my mother, and discovered I can change shape. I also escaped from High Cedars after much abuse from the soldiers. If I knew I could change shape I would have escaped without being violated! Why did you not tell me? Even at the end when escape was the only route! Why! Why!" She beat her fists against him. He tried to gather her to him, and then slipped away.
"It never occurred to me."
"My safety never occurred to you?"
"No."
"What kind of father are you!"
"I am a Daerlan. I behave as a Daerlan."
"You conceived me with a Wierlun!"
"One mistake, that's all. In all other respects I am a Daerlan."
"Mistake? I am a mistake?" The agony in her voice pierced Navir and he turned away.
"How am I supposed to be?" he asked softly. "What do you want me to do? Tell me how to behave as a father. What do you expect from me? Tell me so I can do it."
Wynne sobbed. "I don't know what a father's supposed to do! I never had one! All I know is he shouldn't make me hurt so much! Navir! Help me." Her voice trailed off into sobs.
Navir went to her. He lifted her chin and kissed her forehead. "Daughter." Wynne collapsed into his arms.
Later, they spoke again.
"Why did you leave the Faerion in Blackthorne's hands?"
"It is warded. He shouldn't be able to obtain it. I will let him see a portion of the book for our freedom."
"Freedom? You are free."
"He let me roam after telling me about you and Aeli. But the Tuors are still there."
"Are they?" asked Navir, rising. "What's to keep him from selling them to Berimar without your presence? Perhaps they are already gone."
Wynne turned white, making a gagging noise in her throat. The hawk took wing and Navir raced on foot. She quickly outdistanced him but he knew the path to Blackthorne's house well.
The Daerlan's fleet feet covered the miles quickly but the hawk flew ever before him. The ground dropped off into a gully slowing Navir's progress as he picked his way through thorn bushes and ground softened by a slow creek. The path sloped upward for several hundred yards and by the time he reached level ground again he could not catch Wynne. He pushed himself to greater speed.
He heard the shrieks of the hawk ahead of him. He saw her fly at the invisible barrier surrounding the grounds of the house. As he neared, Blackthorne appeared.
"So, you have found him. Very good. How did the reunion go?"
Blackthorne noticed the stern expressions. He stepped back a couple steps. The gate shimmered as his wards increased.
"Where are the Tuors?" asked Navir. His eyes bore into Blackthorne.
"I am afraid they have returned home."
"Liar!" screamed Wynne. "You sold them to Berimar!"
Blackthorne paused, and then bowed.
"If I did, you cannot help them now."
"I can use the Faerion," said Wynne.
Blackthorne laughed.
"Can you? You have warded it to keep me from it, but you cannot penetrate the compound. In time I will dissolve your wards and the book will be mine." The wizard smiled. "There is no advantage to remaining here. You might as well move along." He turned and walked away vanishing into the mist.
"He is right," said Wynne. "Come on. At least let us look for them. Berimar might not be expecting pursuit."
"Good luck!" called Blackthorne.
Wynne grabbed Navir's arm and pulled the furious Daerlan after her. "Come on, I have an idea."
They walked in silence until they were far from Blackthorne.
"What is it?" asked Navir.
Wynne closed her eyes, holding her hands in front of her. A shape materialized in her hands.
"The Faerion! How did you do it?"
"One of the first pages tells how to keep it with you, unseen and undetected by any supernatural power. I had it with me all the time. I set a warded spell so Blackthorne would believe I left it in his care. He will find a nasty surprise when he breaks through the wards. It will take him days and we shall be far away by then."
"You are your mother's child," grinned Navir. Wynne smiled for a moment, and then sobered.
"Yes, I am. Mistake that I am."
Navir's head snapped up, looking in Wynne's direction, but she kept moving without acknowledging his glance. He knew he had hurt her, but did not know how to soften the pain. He had no notion in that regards. His time with Aeli was pure joy. They had no heartache to work through together. He endured alone after her death. Perhaps he could talk to Wynne of how he felt in those days. His memory was still clear. Perhaps it would help. Perhaps.
Navir tried to talk to her several times as they walked but received only stony silence. The trail gave them few clues. Navir could not see signs of their passing and Wynne used her magic to detect traces of Berimar's passing. Something passed but she could not be sure what it was. They decided to follow it, knowing of no other creature than Berimar who would have passed this way.
Navir walked and walked at a brisk pace. Wynne finally asked him to stop and the look on his face told her it did not occur to him that she might tire. Again, she slept without speaking to him. Navir knew the anger was there; it could feel it all around him.
He tried to remember everything he knew of Berimar, the sorcerer. The creature existed for over a thousand years and Navir did not know the true heritage of Berimar. Blackthorne said Berimar spoke of fishing off the southern coast in his youth but little else. At some point he became ensnared by Natale Galamog; truly a creature of unknown origins. Rumor spoke of a shipwreck from across the sea. What was there really, over those endless seas? Did Galamog belong to this world? Navir could not answer. Her power must be formidable to overwhelm the sorcery of Berimar. Berimar's power towered over Blackthorne's wizardry and Navir found his magic somewhere in-between them. If Berimar returned to Galamog before they could catch him, what chance did they have of rescuing the Tuors?
Navir's thoughts ran deep into his past and the one time he viewed the contents of the Faerion. He wished Wynne would let him look at it. His father spoke of the great evil in the south that feared the Faerion
. It could only have been Galamog. What spells would be useful against such a creature? How would he find the correct one? He rested his face in his hands, breathing deeply. Time passed.
He felt her eyes on him, suddenly. Her gaze sharp, surprising warm, bored into him until he was unaware of anything but Wynne.
"I still do not know if I should trust you."
"You trusted me always," said Navir.
"That was before I knew you deceived me."
"I spoke truly in all things."
"Do not be difficult. You withheld the truth from me. How can I be sure you will not do so again?"
Navir stared into the foliage above him.
"Aeli and I shut out the world. We lived only for each other. I cannot say how long we were together for we did not mark the passage of time. Time was eternal in that glen. The world keeps moving; we did not."
Wynne watched Navir as he spoke grasping for images and feelings of her mother. The reflections of Navir's eyes showed a shadowy image of the Wierlun and her wild dancing, laughing, and flying on the wind. It slipped Wynne's grasp, returning, and then fleeing again. It was not much, but Wynne began to find a sense of her mother. She also remembered why she admired Navir so much and her pain eased a little. Her anger remained and they would have to confront that ere the end.
"Will he take them to Mordyn?"
"There is no other place for him. I am surprised that he ventured out at all. If the Tuors were the only reason he came north, then I am much perplexed. Any minion would have been just as effective."
"Unless the Faerion prompted him to return."
"Good point. I could believe that if he knows the truth about the book."
"Truth?"
"One of many truths. I remember a story that there is power enough in the Faerion to destroy Galamog."
The Faerion Page 17
