Penny put the pamphlet aside and leaned back in her chair, fingers steeping in thought. She didn't believe in using her faith to fight, but not all manipulation was centered on faith. There were plenty of different sorts that had nothing to do with healing at all.
With a sudden feeling of exuberance, Penny hopped to her feet. She started to rush out of the room, then paused, doubled back, and stuffed the pamphlet into her handbag. Then she hurried out of the room, heading to her dining room.
When she got there, she went to one of the cabinets and hunted around till she found one of her long candlesticks. They'd come in a pair and had been a gift from Kenneth's parents: the setting for the candles were made of pure silver. His mother had emphasized how expensive they were.
Penny rolled her eyes at the sentiment now, wondering what the elder Lady Arris would think of her daughter-in-law's use of the expensive gift. She set the candle on the table, making sure it was firmly held in the base.
Then she went to find matches. There was a packet in the cabinet drawer which she easily located. With these in hand, she took a seat at the table.
The first match she lit didn't catch the wick on fire. She tried it twice and then blew it out, tossing it aside. There was an old superstition about using a match three times that Penny didn't believe... but didn't want to take any chances on either.
The second match caught the wick, lighting the candle up. It had a pretty glow that cast a shadow on the table. Penny tilted her head, studying it for a few minutes. She told herself it couldn't be that hard to manipulate fire. The easiest step would be putting it out.
Once she'd decided this, Penny sat forward in her chair, staring at the flames. She concentrated on it, willing herself to will it out. She knew that in a person's case, you extended your mind out to theirs to lend their body the strength to mend a wound, while at the same time concentrating on the wound itself.
There was no mind for her to reach out to though; no life-spark to find with her consciousness and latch onto. So instead she merely focused on the flames, willing them out. Nothing happened.
Not to be discouraged, Penny tried again. For the next three hours, she continued to try again... and again... and again.
By the end of the time, Penny had a headache from staring at the flame for so long and she felt annoyed at herself for being unable to figure it out. She was forced to stop, however. She had a meeting in the Chapel that night.
Before she left the room, Penny gave the candle one more look. She reached over and pinched the flames out with her fingers.
"There," she said, "Mission accomplished."
FIFTEEN
Treason in my Breast
"YOU ARRESTED THE GREYWILLS ON TREASON?" MARCUS Steele, one of King Parnell's council men, leaned forward, his face red and angry, "On what grounds? There has been no treason committed."
William sat back in his chair, looking over the men and women gathered before him. There were six on his council, as well as his advisor. Deyneth Delanu was also present. "That's correct," he told Marcus, but he looked at them all, "They threatened treason. That's grounds enough."
Lana Greene rubbed her temples. The meeting had started over an hour and a half before and every item on the agenda had ended in heated discussion. It was enough to give anyone a migraine, and she'd always been prone.
"Threatened," Marcus repeated, "Is that how it went? I wouldn't know. You didn't think to ask your council for input when you met with them, nor when you made this decision."
"My Warlord--," William began.
"Your Warlord!" Marcus exclaimed, looking over at Deyneth. She met his gaze with a calm serenity. "She advises you in the war, Your Majesty. This was a matter for your council."
William stood, slamming a hand on the table. He caught Deyneth's expression but was unable to stop himself from the anger that flared within him, "I am your King," he reminded Marcus, "You will speak to me with respect, or you will leave this meeting."
Marcus didn't reply, but the area around his mouth tightened in disapproval and anger.
"Fairenthe is sending sixty-thousand men through that pass," William said. "I will not risk losing any of them because the children of a traitor want a place in my court. I won't have it. I will not be blackmailed."
"What will you do with them?" Janna Thompson asked. "Will you hold them in your castle? Execute them? You know their lives are precious to the rest of the Greywill family. Their uncle will not be happy about the situation."
William let out a derisive snort, "I do not care for how their uncle feels. He was a bigger fool than his brother." He looked over at Deyneth and then took a calming breath, "We are holding them here until the Fairenthe men have safely passed through the pass. Then we will release them."
"And if you need their cooperation in the future?" Marcus asked, "What then? You've made yourself enemies. The Greywills are not a strong man, but they hold that pass. I would have said as much, if I'd been asked when the discussion was originally held."
William retook his seat, trying not to give a frustrated sigh. He'd held the council meeting at the encouragement of Deyneth. She had reminded him that he needed his council. He couldn't let it fall apart during the war. It wouldn't do any good for the morale of the people. He couldn't stand most of them, though, and that was when the kingdom wasn't at war.
He also knew he could not afford to appear weak to them. "It was not your decision to make," he reminded them. "However. I would like your input -- all of your input -- on how to best avoid trouble with them in the future."
He leaned back, allowing them to discuss the matter. Deyneth gave him an approving nod.
After allowing them to talk through their ideas, he spoke up, "We shall take the youngest daughter of the uncle. Steele, you are right. It would be best if we had something that kept them in line. I know they are very fond of family. The girl will be trained for court. It shall serve duel purposes. The girl's life and freedom shall prevent them from any future treason, and her future in the castle shall appease their desire to return."
"Thank you," Marcus said.
"Now that we have resolved the issue of the Greywills, we can discuss the Fairenthe troops that are arriving," William said.
"Another item that you neglected to discuss with us," Marcus said, "The alliance between our two kingdoms."
William scowled at him, "It was my decision to make. Alyssa is my daughter."
"She is also the princess of Arinford," this time it was Kyranthos Blackwood speaking. His tone was soft and musing, unlike Marcus's. "If Prince William is dead, you have forever married our two kingdoms."
William sat up straighter, his eyes flashing with anger, "My son is not dead. He is alive, and he will return home when this war is over."
The room was silent for a moment and then Lana said, "Prince William has been a prisoner of war for a year, Your Majesty. The chances of Sullivan allowing him to live are slim. We have to consider the possibility that he will not be returned to us."
"No," William said, "Will is alive. I have nothing more to say on the matter."
There were some glances exchanged, but William ignored them. He knew his men thought him a fool for believing his son was alive, and would return to his rightful place in Arinford, but he had to hope. He had no other choice. He had to.
"Perhaps," Kyranthos said in that same low, musing voice, "It would be best if we send men across to rescue the prince. Perhaps send someone you trust, that they make work out a negotiation for his release."
"That isn't possible," Janna reminded him, "We are unable to send men across the sea, and the mountains are too dangerous. We're losing too many men as is."
William turned to look at Janna. Unlike the others, she also sat in on many of his war meetings with Deyneth.
"That will not last much longer," Deyneth said, "When we secure the long ships from Fairenthe, we will take back the shore."
"Even with the ships they're giving us, we're still vastly out-nu
mbered," Janna reminded her, "Lamonte has a vast amount of resources from both their homeland and the smaller kingdoms they've conquered within the last dozen years."
Deyneth nodded, "You are correct, of course. We cannot hope to defeat them through brute strength. That is why we must outthink them. I have been working to devise a strategy that will allow us to retake the shore."
She looked over at William, waiting for his approval.
"Go on," William told her, "Tell them how we'll retake the shore. Let them know what we traded my only daughter for."
"Well?" Will looked hopefully up as Janice returned, bow in hand.
She shook her head, feeling a surge of frustration, "There's no game around here. I looked, but I couldn't even find tracks."
Will let out a disappointed but expected sigh. It had been three days since they'd been able to find any fresh game, and that had only been a small rabbit who'd been even skinnier than them.
"I'm sorry," Janice said, sitting down beside him. She put her bow down and ran a hand over her face. The power and control she'd felt since killing those men, and escaping the dungeons and castle had all but faded. Now she was just tired, and hungry.
She'd grown up always having plenty of food. Her parents hadn't been wealthy, but they'd had a large family, and they'd all loved to cook. Even when times were hard, she'd had plenty.
In the Guard, it had been hard, especially when they fled from the northern forward post, but they'd never been hungry like this. It was a gnawing, growling hunger that never quite left. She'd fall asleep hungry and wake up ravenous. It made her miss the stale bread from the cells.
"That's alright," Will said. He rubbed his eyes and tried not to sigh again, "Sean is finding us some herbs. We'll have something."
Janice nodded. She drew her knees up to her chest and rested her chin atop them. It had only been a few weeks since they'd escaped but sometimes it felt longer. Sometimes it felt like they'd be running all their lives.
The truth was simple; they were lost in Lamonte. None of them wanted to admit it, but when they'd finally discussed the matter, they'd realized that not one of the knew where they were or where they were going. They were lost, and they were running. All of them knew what awaited them if they stopped. If they were caught, they would never have another chance to run.
"Janice," Will said suddenly. He waited until she looked over at him before speaking, "I'm scared."
"We're going to be alright," Janice said, "I think if we follow the river, we'll find more game, Will. If we keep following it, sooner or later, we'll find out where we are... even if it's by running into the coast."
"It's not that," Will said, "It's just... I've started dreaming again."
"What?" Janice asked. She blinked and looked over at him.
Will nodded. He looked so young and so miserable that Janice moved over to sit beside him, putting an arm around his shoulders. "I thought they were over. I hadn't had once since we left the castle. But last night, they started again."
"Are they the same as the others?" Janice asked, "Of the storm? The purple one?"
"No," Will said. He hesitated and then corrected himself, "Well, sort of. But it's not the focus, just the backdrop. I don't know what the dream was really about. It was already fading when I woke up. There were these people though, and they were talking. I think you were there."
Janice blinked. "I was there?" she'd never had a dream herself, and she'd never done much study of them. When she was young, she'd imagined having one. It would make her special, and Janice had always wanted to be special.
"You were," Will said. He was silent for a moment and then clutched at his head with both hands, bursting out, "But I don't know what it means! I need to know what it means!"
"Will, it's alright," Janice told him, alarmed at his actions. He was smacking his head with both hands now, tears pouring silently down his face. She put her arms around him, and drew him to her, "It's alright, Will. We're going to figure it out."
Will said nothing, but he stopped hitting himself. Janice kept him pulled to her, letting him cry. She could feel him trembling. She didn't know how long she held him, but eventually she saw Sean approaching over his shoulder.
She gave him a small shrug and then let Will go. He looked around and smiled at Sean. "Did you find anything?"
"A bit," Sean said. He approached them and put down the armload of plants he was hiding. Most if it was green and leafy, but he'd managed to find a few nuts, and he'd included them as well. "You guys alright?"
"Will's been dreaming again," Janice explained, "Listen Will, next time you have one, wake us up, and tell us what happened immediately, before it can fade. Alright?"
Will nodded. He seemed a lot more in control now that Sean was back, and there was some food, meager as it was. He took one of the nuts and worked on opening it.
Sean sat with them, but he didn't help himself to any of the food. He seemed distracted by his own thoughts.
Janice ate a little, and then asked, "Sean, are you alright?"
"There's something we need to talk about," Sean said. He picked up his amulet hanging on his chest, and clutched it tightly in his hand. "You might not like it."
Sean felt the usual surge of energy from his amulet. It had little these days -- neither Janice nor Will were the ideal candidates for absorbing energy from. Both of them were too tired, too hungry, too scared. There was nothing left to take from them.
There were days when Sean felt like they were well on their way to becoming shadows. Illusions that didn't truly exist, not in the real world. He could feel them fading away, little by little.
It was a ridiculous notion, he knew that. He knew they were still alive and that was a cause worth celebrating. He didn't imagine many people left Sullivan's dungeons alive. Not for long, anyway.
He often wondered how many troops Sullivan had directed to hunt for them. He would be angry, surely, furious even. He'd send out his best men to track them down. That was Sean's thought, anyway.
He stared at Janice and Will, a cold certainty filling him. If they were caught, they'd be killed.
That's why he needed to talk to them.
"I saw something," he said. "Troops."
Both Janice and Will shot straight up, eyes widening. Will reached for his sword, and Janice put a hand on her bow.
"Why didn't you say something sooner?" Janice demanded, "We have to go. Will, get your things."
Will was already moving.
"Stop," Sean said. Both of them looked at him. "I think it's Arinford troops."
Janice dropped her hand from her bow, and Will sank back into a sitting position. "Arinford troops?" Will asked. "How certain are you?"
"I'm pretty sure," Sean said, "I can't be certain, of course. They weren't flying banners. They felt like Arinford, though."
"They felt like Arinford?" Will asked. "What does that mean?"
Sean and Janice exchanged a glance.
"My amulet," Sean finally said. "I felt it, felt them."
Janice's mouth tightened. If she'd had her way, Sean would have thrown the amulet away long before. She didn't like it, and she didn't like what it did to him. He understood, but he couldn't let it go. Not so easily.
Will knew about the amulet, of course. Sean hadn't been able to lie to the young prince. He knew Will disliked the amulet as well, but he didn't quite understand it either.
"Oh," Will said.
"There are just under a thousand of them," Sean said, "Maybe closer to seven hundred. I didn't get a good count."
"But you could be wrong," Will said, "They could be Lamonte."
"I could be," Sean agreed, "But I don't think I am. I think I recognized one of the men."
He looked over at Janice, "I think I saw Stini."
"Stini?" Janice said blankly. Then her face lit up, "Stini! Arthimur, right? He must be with what's left of the soldiers from the southern forward post. They weren't all killed. That's fantastic news."
"Is it?" S
ean asked.
Will frowned, "Of course it is," he said, "It's Arinford troops. We must go to them immediately."
Sean hesitated, "I think that's a bad idea," he said.
"Why?" Janice and Will asked together.
"I don't know," Sean said helplessly, "I just have a bad feeling about joining these men. I feel like it's more dangerous than it's worth."
"If they're Arinford, how is it dangerous?" Will asked.
"Well," Sean said, "For starters, they're not going to let you leave once you've joined them. It'd be too dangerous. No military leader would allow it."
Will shrugged, "They can escort us home."
"I don't think they can," Sean said. "The shore is contested. There's no way for them to get back to Arinford via ship. That's why they're still here, I'm sure of it. Going there would be a death sentence."
"Then they can take us through the mountains," Will said.
Janice frowned, "I don't think they will. Most soldiers avoid the mountains, Will. They're terrified of becoming lost in them."
"More than likely, they'll keep fighting here," Sean said, "and we'll be stuck here with them."
"We're part of the Guard," Will said, "Would it be so bad, fighting with them? Isn't that where we belong?"
"Is it?" Sean asked.
For a moment, the three sat in silence.
"My dreams," Will said finally.
"Your dreams," Sean said with a nod. "You have things you must do, Will. I might be wrong, but I think Janice and I are meant to help you."
"You're not wrong," Will said, "I feel that too."
Janice nodded.
"If we go to them, they'll make us stay," Sean said.
"But..." Will sighed, putting his head in his hands. "What then? Do we leave?"
"I don't know," Sean said. "There's something else too. If we go to them, and they're attacked, they're not a large enough force to defend you properly."
Revolution (Cartharia Book 2) Page 16
