"Well?" Ulric said. Whatever concern he had for his oldest son he hid well. "Do you have what we need?"
"Yes, my lord," Eldric replied.
"Bring him to the hall," Ulric said. "I will speak to him in private."
Eldric bowed his head. Ulric gave a last look out at the weary men currently dismounting in the courtyard then turned on his heel to head back into the keep. The tension in the air eased with his departure. A grin broke out across Eldric's face, weary but joyful. He closed the distance between himself and his siblings and wrapped them both up in a tight hug. He smelled of horses and sweat and leather. Brida returned the embrace earnestly.
"You need a bath," she said when she pulled away, wiping tears of relief from her eyes. "You stink of the road."
"Aye," Eldric said. "As soon as I deliver our sorcerer to Father. I plan on having a good bath, a hot meal and a large mug of ale to wash it down." He looked at their brother. "Edmund. It's so good to see you up and about. I was worried I would return to find you still bedridden."
"With Brida's help," Edmund replied. He craned his neck to look over Eldric's shoulder. "Where's this man you sought?"
Eldric half turned. Brida followed her brothers' gazes. Many of the men she recognized, both young and old, but there was one, tall with hair the color of a raven's wing, that was not one of Eldric's men.
"Is that him?" she asked softly, afraid to speak above a whisper lest the stranger somehow hear her.
Eldric nodded. "He's a strange fellow," he said. "Very quiet. But he came easily enough."
"What did you offer him?" Brida asked. She remembered her prayers to God and the Virgin Mother and suddenly found it very difficult to breathe.
"Money," Eldric replied. "And the promise that he would be left alone once this conflict ends. He agreed easily enough once I gave him my word, perhaps too easily." Eldric's face darkened with distrust. "At any rate, we have what we need, and now I must find what I need." He left his siblings with a final smile to make his way to the stranger.
"Help me to my room, sister?" Edmund said. "My leg hurts to stand on."
"Of course," Brida replied. She slipped her arm through Edmund's and turned them around, putting their brother, his men, and their secret weapon behind them. With the help of a cane Edmund could walk easily enough, though his pace was slow and jolting. It was stairs that gave him the most trouble. Brida was always afraid he would tumble back down them and crack his head open. He made it up with little trouble. Brida helped him into bed and left him with a book to amuse himself, then left to see if the guards would allow her into the great all.
Her curiosity about this sorcerer had been piqued and she wanted to know who he was and what he could do. Just because her father hadn't seen fit to educate her in the ways of war didn't mean that it was beyond her realm of interests. Her future was in the balance, as was that of those she loved most. Were they to lose this conflict, there was no doubt in her mind that her entire family would be executed, and Brida would either find herself married to a brute or with her head on a pike next to her brothers'.
To her surprise the doors to the hall were cracked open, and it was only her father and Captain Alfred inside with the stranger. The air in the room was heavy with tension. It scraped across Brida's skin the second she slipped inside to stand against the back wall, eyeing the stranger carefully. He was taller than both men and dressed in simple clothes, the kind meant for travel and a hard life, and not at all the finery Brida had expected such a powerful man to wear. She wasn't sure what she had expected, if she was honest. Someone older, perhaps, with white hair and a long beard, like in the old legends, and the villains in the stories her nurse had used to tell her and her brothers.
"I will do as you have asked," the stranger said in a low voice that seemed like it came from deep within his chest. "And I will keep my word, so long as you keep yours and leave me in peace. I know not how you found me, but you will put everything you saw from your mind. I do not make a habit of dabbling in the affairs of hu—of mere men."
Ulric nodded. "Courtnay's forces are gathering here, at our northern border." He jabbed a finger at a map stretched across the table, held down by a dagger at one corner and a goblet at the other. "We've not the forces to hold them off, but with you on our side victory is assured." He glanced up at the sorcerer. "If you fail to keep your word, I will cut your head off myself."
The stranger didn't flinch. "I am a man of honor," he said. "You need not worry about your enemy offering me a better price. I am no mercenary to be so easily swayed."
"Good," Ulric said. "Captain Alfred will show you to your room, at the top of a turret, as you requested. You will find it sparsely furnished, however. It has been many years since those rooms were used to house guests."
"It will suit my needs," the stranger said. Brida quickly left the room, hoping to keep her intrusion unknown, but not quite sure why it mattered. Had her father not wanted anyone into the room he would have had the doors shut and ordered the guards to bar anyone from entering. She had just as much right to know what was going on as anyone else.
Still, she couldn't push away the feeling that she wasn't supposed to have been there. She heard Alfred's voice behind her, drawing close to the door, and made her way towards the garden. She had every reason in the world to be there. No one would question her presence.
She felt eyes on her before she quite got out of sight, and couldn't stop turning around to see who it was, expecting her father, but it was not. Alfred was speaking, completely unaware that Brida was near, but the sorcerer was looking right at her with eyes as sharp as a hawk's, even as he followed behind Alfred. Brida's throat tightened and she feel her cheeks warm, the intensity of the stranger's stare boring right through her. He turned his head away eventually and vanished around a corner after Alfred, but Brida still felt the weight of his gaze on her all the way to the garden.
She sank down on a bench and tried to still her pounding heart. He was far more attractive than she had expected, even more-so up close, and his eyes... they were almost golden, and almost too bright against the darkness of his hair and brows. His stare remained burned into her as she sat in the fresh, cool air, watching a patch of sunlight slowly move across the ground as time passed. She was so lost in her own thoughts that she failed to hear the soft crush of boots on the grass approaching her.
She jumped at the voice that spoke. "Your brother spoke much of you, but he failed to mention your beauty."
Brida pressed a hand to her chest as her heart settled from its scare. "Thank you," she said, breathlessly, and looked up into the eyes of the sorcerer.
"I hope I'm not intruding. My manners are lacking," he said.
"No," Brida replied. "No, not at all. You may sit, if you like."
She moved to the edge of the bench to make room, the cold stone seeping through the layers of her dress. The stranger pulled his cloak aside and sat on the opposite edge, so still that he looked like a statue himself.
"My name is Cynric," he said. "I'm sure you know why I am here."
"To help us," Brida replied. "They say you have powerful magic."
"In a manner of speaking," Cynric said. "So long as your father keeps the promise his men made to me, you and your family need not worry for the future."
“I can't help but wonder what you were offered to lend us your aid,” Brida said. “We're strangers to you.”
“Not many people know where I make my home,” Cynric said. “I would prefer to keep it that way. Your brother offered both wealth and solitude once this conflict is done.”
“You don't sound eager.”
“I am not,” Cynric replied, “but I gave my word, and I will keep it.” His tone rang true. If her brother and father trusted him, or at least believed him, then she would as well.
“Can you do magic?” she asked.
“Not any kind you would understand,” Cynric replied.
Brida's brows dipped. “Try to explain it, then,” she said.
A corner of Cynric's mouth twitched. It could have almost been the start of a smile. “I commune with the earth,” he said, “and can call creatures long hidden from the eyes of man to my service.”
“Such as?” Brida asked.
“Such as dragons,” Cynric replied. “The fierce wyverns answer my call. There is no army on this earth that is fit to stand against them. Your victory is assured; you have my solemn oath. As long as your father keeps his promise to me.”
“You're very suspicious,” Brida said.
“A man like me must be,” he said, “or else face persecution or worse. Mankind is not as accepting of the old ways, now. It is better for me to be on my own.”
“You must be lonely,” Brida said. She blushed at her own boldness. Cynric only shrugged.
“At times, yes,” he said, his gaze on Brida heavy and thick with something left unspoken. “If you will forgive my forwardness, it's part of why I sought you out. I sense the same loneliness in you.”
Brida looked away and folded her hands in her lap. “It's hard to be the only woman,” she said. “My brothers are good men, but they treat me as something fragile, something to be protected. I know I am stronger than they think.”
“You are,” Cynric said, surprising her. “I can sense it. There is little that you cannot take in stride. They will learn that, one day.”
“I hope so,” Brida said. She glanced at Cynric from the corner of her eye. He looked to be the same age as Eldric, who was only five years Brida's senior, but he seemed so much older, his shoulders heavy with the weight of a lifetime of knowledge and experience. It should have been intimidating, but instead Brida simply felt a great sadness.
“I thought also,” Cynric said, “you might like to know that the army will assemble and march in two days’ time. Your enemy's forces have already mustered, and there is a choke point they can be funneled to where there will be no hope of victory. Your brother and father will lead the charge.”
Brida knew the day would come, but it didn't stop the sharp pang of terror in her chest. She let out a shaky sigh. “Thank you for telling me,” she said. “I will pray for them.”
“They will return safe,” Cynric said. He reached over and laid one warm hand over Brida's own. “I swear to you.”
Brida looked down at their hands, but didn't move hers away. “You're very certain.”
“I have every reason to be,” Cynric said. His touch lingered for a second longer, enough that by the time he stood all traces of cold had been driven from Brida's fingers. “I'll leave you to your thoughts,” he said, and bowed stiffly before turning away.
Brida watched him go and let out a breath she hadn't realized she'd been holding. A small mist formed in front of her face. She noticed then the goosebumps on her arms, but couldn't be sure if they were from the air or from the feel of Cynric's hand over hers.
*****
The second time Brida watched her brother ride away from the keep he had their father at one side and Cynric at the other, the sorcerer sitting uneasily on a borrowed horse. The beast shifted restlessly under him, pawing at the ground and shaking its head. She and Edmund were left behind, Edmund temporarily taking their father's place as head of the household. Were the army not to return, then he would be king in Eldric's place. Brida hoped it wouldn't come to that. The sound of the army marching away from the keep was almost deafening, and when the thud of hooves and clank of armor and weapons faded, the silence they left behind was just as loud. Edmund leaned heavily on his cane, his jaw tight and skin pale. Brida slipped her arm through his and leaned into him, worry eating away at her stomach.
“They'll come back,” he said. “They must.”
“Yes,” Brida replied. She thought back on Cynric's words and wished she could believe them as much now as she had in the garden. There were so many variables, and she shared her father's skepticism about Cynric's powers. She bit back a sigh. So long as they returned safe and sound and their foe defeated, it mattered not if Cynric could truly wield magic or not. All she wanted was her family together again and her home at peace. She knew Edmund was thinking the same.
“I'm hungry,” her brother said. “Shall we see what we can filch from the kitchens?”
It felt good to smile. Brida nodded. “Sounds like fun,” she said. Edmund slowly turned around and offered her his other arm, and together they made their way back into the keep, both desperate to find something that could push their worries aside.
The waiting was agony. Messages were few and far between, the risk of the birds being shot down far too great. The front and the passage Cynric had spoken of weren't far, but Brida knew that battles could take anywhere from hours to days, and with no word from her father or brother she had no way of knowing what was happening. The lack of information ate away at her as much as her worry and anxiety. She could tell Edmund was worried as well, though he hid it much better, and had far more to distract himself with. Brida only had needlework and books she had read already to try and tear her thoughts away from her family's safety. Edmund had the responsibilities left behind by Ulric and Eldric, which were far easier to lose oneself in than what Brida had.
Edmund, at least, was kind enough to keep her in the loop. When a bird finally arrived, he summoned her before he even unrolled the missive tied to the creature’s leg, his face a barely concealed mask of the anxiety that Brida's own mind echoed.
“It's father's seal,” he said when she entered the room, quickly limping over to meet her at the end of the table. He tossed his cane on top of it and popped the seal with his thumb, fingers shaking. Brida touched his hands to steady them and helped him unroll the delicate parchment. Together they silently read the message, short as it was. Brida's knees went weak with relief.
“Victory,” she said.
“Yes,” Edmund replied, “but there's more. Another note.” He put one piece of parchment aside. The message continued, the bottom signed with Ulric's mark. “Casualties..., Eldric's well... A dragon? What?”
Brida snatched the paper from him and read the message over again. “Cynric said... but that's impossible...”
“What did he say?” Edmund asked, followed by an irritated, “Brida,” when she didn't immediately respond.
“I asked him what kind of magic he does, and he told me he could summon dragons, but Father says that... he himself is the dragon. How is that possible?”
“Does it matter?” Edmund said. “We won.”
“Yes, but... He's injured. Cynric.”
“They'll treat him on the road,” Edmund replied. He was grinning broadly, his face crinkling in all the right places. “We won, Brida,” he said. “I know you understand what this means.”
“I do,” Brida said. “And I'm happy, I am. I only wish it could have been accomplished without so much bloodshed.”
Edmund chuckled and rolled his eyes. “Women,” he said, not unkindly. “You would have everyone talk and embrace to solve their problems.”
Brida took her brother's jest in stride. "The world would be a better place if they did," she said, still looking at the message. "They'll be home soon. I should find people to help care for the wounded, and they'll need a place to rest..."
"I'll have men set up a temporary hospital," Edmund said, still smiling, but all joking aside. "And we must throw a feast to celebrate our glorious victory." He squeezed her shoulder. "Smile, sister. Our king and father is well, and our brother has returned safely to us. The plan worked. God is good."
"Yes," Brida said. She rolled the messages back up and pressed them into Edmund's palm. She smiled, but her worry still eclipsed her happiness. Why she cared so much for a stranger confused her, but Cynric had risked his life so that he might be left in peace. He didn't deserve to die for someone else's war. And if all this talk about him being the dragon he told Brida he could summon... She needed time to sit and think about Ulric's message.
She found her solace in the garden by the statue of Mary. There would be tim
e enough to gather healers later in the day. She knew many women who tended to the keep who had experience with herbs, and there was herself as well. Sorting out her thoughts, however, was a completely different and far more challenging task. It was impossible for her to believe that a man could change his shape, but there was no reason for her to think her father had been lying. It was no wonder the thing Cynric wanted most was to be left alone. She had a dozen questions to ask him, and hoped that he would be well enough to talk when they finally returned home.
***
Ulric must have sent the message on the road, for it was only a day more before he returned at the head of his army, much diminished in size and leading carts full of wounded. Brida had wrangled up a handful of women and older men from the keep and nearby villages to tend to them, and Edmund had a hastily constructed tent set up outside the walls, close to the river, where any infection or spreading sickness could be easily contained.
The messenger that Ulric sent found Brida first and gave her the news and spewed thanks when Brida gave him permission to seek out a hot meal and warm bed. Brida hurried to find Edmund, who was still breaking his fast in his room, and saw more of her brother than she wished to when he threw back his bedclothes to fetch his cane and dress. The ordeal made her laugh, to Edmund's embarrassment, though the flush remained on her cheeks until Edmund joined her in the bailey to greet their father. She was pleased to see the color on his cheeks as well. Still, he reached for her hand and squeezed it tightly.
"He's home," he said, sounding for an instant like a small child. "And all is well. Now we can focus on those cursed pagans to the south, reinforce our border before they set their sights on our treasures as well."
"Wait until Father tells us himself that all is well before you jump to such conclusions, brother," Brida said. "We do not know if the enemy is completely vanquished."
"They would not be coming home otherwise," Edmund said. He was convinced, but Brida was not so sure. She would wait until she heard the truth from their father's lips. The brightest part of Ulric was his crown. Their father was covered head to toe in dirt and mud, or at least Brida hoped it was that and not dried blood, and there were more lines on his face than Brida cared to comment on. Despite it all, he looked happy and when his gaze settled on his children he grinned broadly and swung off his horse. Eldric was close behind him. There was a cut on his brow, running from his temple to the corner of his eyes, but it looked clean and Brida saw no other wounds.
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