Rowen entered the room and walked toward the end of the line. The air was already growing warm. A couple of faces glanced up from the table. She nodded toward them and stopped behind a tall guard who was busy talking to the woman in front of him. Rowen did not recognize either of them.
She ran the fingers of her left hand along the edge of her glove and waited. After a minute, she reached the table and grabbed a bowl of porridge and a spoon. She turned. One of the guards stood up at the end of the long table and left. Rowen walked toward the spot and sat down, placing her pack beside her boots.
She closed her eyes and listened to the soft chatter around her. She could almost imagine that life was back to normal, that she was still in that time before her secret had been discovered, before the war, before the pillar of light. Back when she had been simply a varor. She took a deep breath, the scent of the porridge filling her nostrils.
But there was no going back.
Rowen opened her eyes and picked up her spoon. She would be leaving today for Avonai, for her own safety. She placed the spoon inside the grainy mush and stirred it. She scooped up a little of the cereal and held it over the bowl. And if Commander Kelyn revealed her secret, she might never come back. Not if she wanted to live.
Rowen turned the spoon over and let the porridge plop back into the bowl. She put her spoon down and pushed her bowl away. She wasn’t hungry anymore. In fact, the way her stomach felt, she wasn’t sure she could eat anything even if she was.
“Not hungry this morning?”
Rowen looked up and found Lore standing beside the table. He looked as if he were dressed for training: a simple white shirt, a dark jerkin, and dark pants.
She sighed and looked at her bowl. “No. Not really.” She grabbed her pack and stood. “It was something to do while I waited, but…” She shrugged and looked around again. “I’m going to miss this place.” Lore didn’t answer. She glanced back at him. His eyes were unfocused, and he seemed preoccupied. Had something happened since last night? “Captain, is everything all right?”
His focus came back. “Rowen, can we talk?”
The serious note in his voice froze her insides. Rowen slowly nodded. “Yes.”
“Then follow me.” Lore turned abruptly and headed toward the doorway. Rowen hurried behind him.
The corridor was dark with only small squares of light where the sun came in from windows high above. The rug muffled the sound of their boots.
Rowen reached his side. “I’m afraid I don’t have much time. Lady Astrea leaves within the hour.”
Lore stopped by a door that led into a small meeting room. “I know. But this can’t wait.” He opened the door and motioned for Rowen to go first.
Puzzled, Rowen walked inside. A dark fireplace stood against the right wall. A single table sat in the middle of the room, surrounded by wooden high back chairs, six in all. The narrow window at the end of the room let the sunlight in from outside. Rowen placed her pack on the table and turned around. Lore closed the door, leaving a small crack.
“He’s said something, hasn’t he?” Rowen reached for the chair next to her and placed her hands over the top. “Commander Kelyn.”
“No.” Lore slowly turned. “It’s something I have to say. And it’s not easy.”
What could be worse than her secret exposed?
“I need to ask you to step down from being a varor.”
Rowen sucked in her breath and took a step back. “What?” That was the only normal part of her life she had left. And Lore was taking it from her? “I don’t understand. Have I done something wrong?”
Lore waved his hands. “Not at all! But I realized something last night: If people found out what you are, they might think you were influencing Lady Astrea. I am trying to protect you, protect both of you.” He sighed. “It is my job.”
Banished. That wasn’t what Lore had said, but that’s what it felt like. “What will I do?” she whispered. “Where will I go?”
“We will figure that out together.”
Rowen looked back at Lore. There was no doubt on his face, no fear. Instead, he looked confident.
“I will not let you fend for yourself,” he said. “And I know Lady Astrea will not let you leave without some kind of recompense. We will help you.”
“Does she know? Does Lady Astrea know what you are asking?”
Lore shook his head. “No. I chose to talk to you first. Do you understand why I am asking?”
Rowen grabbed the back of the chair and leaned against it. “Yes. I do.” She understood more than most how dark and fickle the soul of man could be. Nice one minute, then like a savage dog the next.
“This doesn’t mean you no longer have a job or that you need to quit today. We have some time to plan.”
“So I am still accompanying Lady Astrea to Avonai?”
“Yes. But I think when her trip is done, you will need to step down.”
Rowen looked at Lore. “This is…this is very hard for me.”
His eyes grew moist. “I know.” He didn’t say anything else, and he didn’t need to. Rowen could see the pain written all over his face.
She gripped the chair hard and let her breath out slowly. “I will do it. I will step down. For Lady Astrea’s sake, and my own.”
Lore took a step forward. “And then we will find a new way of life for you.”
Rowen raised her hand and looked at the glove covering her mark. “Maybe.”
“We will. It may not be here—” Rowen looked up sharply— “but we will. Now, it is time for you to go. And I…” The bravado from moments ago washed away from his voice. “I need to speak to Lady Astrea before she leaves.”
Rowen nodded, unable to speak past the lump in her throat.
Lore tried to smile, but only a corner of his lip turned up. “I will follow you shortly and meet you in Avonai. Then we will discuss what to do next. All right?”
She swallowed. “Yes.”
He turned toward the door, stopped, and looked back. “Remember, the Word will not leave you, whatever happens.”
Rowen watched Lore leave, his words echoing inside her ears. She picked up her pack and swung it onto her shoulder. With her mind, she believed what he said. But she wasn’t sure her heart believed it.
She had been exiled once, and it could happen again. And then what would she do?
3
“I found someone.”
Nierne blinked against the bright sunlight overhead. Dark branches spread out in a circle, framing the sun. Twigs snapped under her body. The back of her head throbbed with dull pain. “Ugh.” She slowly sat up and reached for the base of her skull.
“Over here,” the voice said.
Nierne snapped her head around. A man stood nearby, almost hidden by the shadows cast by the trees overhead. His head was turned to the right, and he was motioning to someone.
Mouth dry with fear, she dropped her hand to the ground and backed away as fast as she could.
The man turned back to her. “Wait! Hold on!”
Nierne ignored his command. She twisted around and lurched to her feet. She could barely breathe, and her heart felt as though it would come bursting through her chest. She grabbed a branch and pulled herself forward, scrambling over moss-covered logs and plunging into the green underbrush. Long prickly branches tore at her neck and face.
Where am I? Nierne couldn’t recall. Wait… She remembered a dark tent…and cutting away ropes looped around her hands…running toward the trees…running away from Lord Tala…and a pillar of l—
Light! She remembered the arc of light. It hit her. Threw her into the air…
Nierne gasped and glanced back behind her. The man was almost upon her. She turned and ran harder. Branches slapped her face and arms, hidden roots tripped her feet.
“Wait! Stop!” she heard the man holler behind her. “I’m trying to help you!”
Nierne crashed onto her knees. Crackers! Panic swept across her body. She scrambled back up. She would
not be caught again, not this time.
A hand grabbed her shoulder. Nierne stifled a scream and tore out of the man’s hold. She stumbled forward.
“Hold on!” he shouted behind her. “I’m with the White City guard!”
The White City guard? Nierne froze.
“That’s better.” This time Nierne didn’t run. She began to shiver. The man turned her around. She shook her head. It couldn’t be—
“Now,” he said. “Who are you?”
She stared at his chest. Across his dark blue tabard was a white eagle, the symbol for the White City. A sword hung at his side. “You- you’re…” She looked up into his face. The man was young, with short curly brown hair and a small cleft in his chin. His eyes were an almost clear blue. “You’re not a Temanin?”
“No.” His face softened. “Is that why you ran?”
Nierne ceased to hear him. She lifted her hands and hid her face. Then she cried.
She had made it. After everything she had gone through, she had finally made it to the White City.
The man gave her arm a quick squeeze. “Ma’am, it’s all right. You’re safe now. Were you a prisoner of war?”
Nierne looked above her hands. “No,” she said, and hiccupped. “I mean, yes, I mean—” She didn’t know what she meant. She wiped her face, ashamed of her display of emotion. “I’m sorry, it’s been a rough couple of weeks.”
The guard shook his head. “Don’t worry about it. Let’s just get you back to the White City.”
Nierne nodded. The guard steered her through the forest. She followed, barely watching where they were going. Everything inside her was choked up. The day had finally arrived, the day she would find the Eldarans and bring them back to Thyra. If only Father Reth—
She reached for the thin chain around her neck that held her monastery pendant. She drew out the golden oval and held it between her thumb and finger. Father Reth had been the one to present the pendant to her the day she had been elevated to scribe status. It was a symbol of her devotion to the Word and to the Monastery. But ever since Father Reth’s death, the pain inside her had served as a wall between her and the Word.
And yet—she thought as she gripped the pendant—the Word had been faithful. He had brought her safely across the mountains, watched over her during her captivity, and now was leading her straight to the White City.
So why couldn’t she forgive Him?
Nierne sucked in her breath and stopped. She dropped the pendant. Ahead of her, between the trees, stood the White City. But not as she had imagined it. Instead of tall white walls and proud towers, she saw crumbling, tar-stained ramparts and a scorched field. Smoke spiraled upward from behind the walls, dark grey against the bright blue sky. The air smelled like burnt bread.
Her breath whooshed from her lungs. “What happened?”
“War,” the guard said behind her.
Suddenly Nierne was swept back to the day Thyra had burned. A cold shiver ran down her back. The smoke, the bodies, the soldiers rounding up people. Shadows, like fluid wisps of grey, wrapping themselves around people, sucking their life away. And the Shadonae…
Nierne blinked, and the memories vanished. No. The Shadonae had not done this, the Temanin Empire had.
“Let’s head to the castle,” the guard said. Another guard with the same blue tabard joined them a minute later. “Find anyone else?” the first guard asked.
“No, I didn’t.”
They headed toward the tree line. Nierne glanced at the new guard. Who were these men looking for? Others who had escaped the Temanins? Could it be possible there were others who had fled? Nierne looked around. Canvas tents stood to her right—
The Temanin camp.
Nierne lurched to her left. “Temanins…right there!” She pointed toward the tents.
“There are no more Temanins,” the first guard said. Both men kept walking toward the White City.
Nierne stopped, dumbfounded. “What? But how?” It was then she noticed figures moving through the tents, all dressed in blue, not black.
The first guard turned around. “We don’t know. Our commanders are still trying to figure that out. Some say the Word saved us.”
“The Word?” Nierne looked back at the tents. Then that pillar of light she’d seen…it had come from the Word?
“All I know is that the war is over, and I’m still alive,” he said.
The other guard nodded in agreement.
No. Nierne turned toward the White City. This war might be over, but a war was coming that would soon spread over all the Lands. Once the Shadonae solidified their hold on Thyra, they would begin stretching their cold fingers toward other countries, until every city burned and every person was either dead or possessed.
Unless the Word intervened…
And the last of the Eldarans could be found.
• • •
Nierne stood inside the castle on the first floor. The guard had left her here hours ago, before she’d had a chance to speak to him about the situation in Thyra. He’d said she would be safe here with the other refugees. Instead, she felt trapped.
Hot summer air hung heavily inside the tightly packed room, pouring more warmth on her from the people all around, until she felt like she was baking in a kiln. The pale stone walls and floor only intensified the image. Bright sunlight poured through the two windows along the outer wall.
A family with three young children stood in front of her, and an older couple stood behind her. They waited against the wall, following a snake-like line that wove through the room and past a wooden table with two large black pots on top. A woman ladled out grey mush from the kettles.
The family moved forward a few steps. Nierne followed. Her hair was damp and stuck to the back of her neck. The oversized white tunic Lord Tala had provided for her days ago was now stained and wrinkled.
One of the children, a little girl with blond hair braided and wrapped around her head, turned and stared at her. “Look, Momma,” Nierne heard the little girl say. “Look at her hair. Its red—”
“Shhh!” The older woman’s gaze darted toward Nierne’s face. She reached over and placed a hand on her daughter, guiding her toward the tall man ahead of her holding a baby.
Nierne wrapped her arms around her middle and looked away. Her hair was a lingering, visible sign of her mother’s taint.
A short, bald man across the room looked her direction and gave her an appraising look. Nierne turned and faced the wall, but she could still feel the man’s leering gaze. The family ahead of her moved a couple of feet. She followed, keeping her eyes to the wall.
If the Shadonae had never come, right now she would be in the Monastery, with the sound of soft chanting in the prayer garden, the rustle of parchment, the whisper of footsteps through the cool hallways. She would be preparing to take her vow to give her life to the Monastery and to the Word, to never bond so her mind and body could be used in service to both. Instead, she was standing in sweltering heat, with a man staring at her, waiting in line for—
A bowl was shoved into her hands. Nierne blinked and stared at the bowl. She looked up. An older woman with a dirty white apron and dark hair pulled back grabbed another bowl from the tower in front of her.
“Thank y—”
“Move on, move on,” the woman said with a scowl.
Nierne snapped her lips shut and nodded. A couple of more steps led her to a large black kettle. Another woman stood behind the kettle with a wooden ladle. She dipped it into the kettle and brought out a large spoonful of grainy cereal. Nierne held out her bowl. The mush landed inside the bowl with a wet plop. Nierne didn’t even bother to thank her this time. Instead, she headed toward the door.
A long dark hallway ran from the left to the right. People leaned or sat against the walls on either side. Sconces were lit, and a blue runner ran along the white stone floor. Pictures hung along the wall, most of them hidden behind the refugees.
Sweat trickled down her cheek. Nierne found her
self wishing for her room back at the Monastery, with its large window that overlooked the harbor, and a sweet, cool sea breeze. She wiped her cheek and looked for a place to sit. Near the end of the hall she found an empty spot.
Nierne dropped to the floor and pressed her back up against the wall. She placed her bowl on her knees and began to eat the mush with her fingers. It tasted bland, but it was better than nothing. Her stomach growled in appreciation.
It did not take long to eat the paltry meal. She used one finger to ring around the bowl and gather up the small bit of cereal left. The sound of boots clapping on the floor echoed across the corridor. Nierne looked down the hall and saw a guard moving along the line of people, his eyes searching for something or someone.
She stood to return her bowl.
“You!”
Nierne tensed and slowly turned. The guard walked up to her. “What are you doing?” His gruff voice soured her.
“Returning my bowl,” Nierne said coolly. She had been waiting for this moment, for someone to point out she did not belong here, that she was a foreigner.
“You’re needed in the Healers Quarter.”
“I’m needed— I’m what?”
The guard scowled. “Look, we’re asking anyone who doesn’t have family to take care of to help out around here. And it doesn’t look like you have any family. So can you help?”
Nierne glared at the guard. If the healers needed help, they could have found someone nicer to ask for it than the man in front of her. She sighed, and her shoulders slumped. Railing against him would do nothing about his attitude. And perhaps she would find someone she could ask about that pillar of light…
“Yes, I can help.” Nierne placed the bowl on the floor. Someone else would have to take her dish away.
“Good. Then follow me.” The guard turned and headed toward the opposite end of the hall. She could hear him grumbling about people not helping.
Son of Truth (Follower of the Word) Page 4
