Gewey sat there for a moment, then struggled to his feet and retrieved his sword. Though still unsteady, his strength was returning and he slowly made his way back to the path. Nearly an hour had passed by the time Linis rejoined him. Gewey scrutinized the elf for a moment. If he was unable to continue, it didn't show. As for Gewey much of his strength had already returned. He had been listening for signs of the other Vrykol, but just as Linis had said, they were gone.
“I think we should follow them,” said Linis. “I do not believe that this encounter was a coincidence. They will lead us to Kaylia.”
Gewey nodded sharply and focused. The trail the Vrykol left was clear and easy to follow. “I'll lead.”
Without another word, the two raced off after the Vrykol. Gewey could tell that Linis was struggling to keep pace, but he knew that they could ill afford to slow down. They had already lost too much time. For more than three hours they continued without pause. For a while, Gewey could still feel the fatigue left from the poison, but as the flow continued to course through his body, it vanished. From time to time he reached out for Kaylia, but he found that her mind was still shrouded.
As the sun waned, they had come no closer to catching the Vrykol or Kaylia. Just as desperation returned, Gewey was flooded with Kaylia's presence. It nearly caused him to lose his footing. He ground to a sudden halt.
Linis nearly ran into him. “What is it?” he panted, the evidence of his diminished condition obvious in his voice.
Gewey held out his hand to silence the elf. He closed his eyes and concentrated with all his power. “She is near,” he whispered almost inaudibly. His eyes shot wide. “And she's in danger.” The sinews of his legs burst to life, propelling him forward with such speed that Linis had no chance of catching him.
The forest was a blur as Gewey ran headlong in Kaylia's direction. She was near but heading away from him. But there was something else; a Vrykol pursued her. Its velocity was great and he knew Kaylia would not be able to escape it.
He unsheathed his sword and power exploded within him. This caught the Vrykol's attention. It was only a few hundred yards away and standing between himself and Kaylia. The beast turned to Gewey for an instant, then back around. Gewey could feel the hatred spewing out of the creature. Hatred for everything. The creature raised its sword arm.
It was then that Gewey spotted Kaylia. He knew the Vrykol intended to heave its blade at her, and he knew that he was still too far away. He let out a scream and with all his might thrust a burst of power directly at it. He feared the Vrykol would block him, as before, but it didn't. The strength of the flow flattened the Vrykol to the ground. But Gewey had not been fast enough and the blade flew from its hand. With one last burst, Gewey tried to change the sword’s direction, but instead pushed it straight forward.
“No!” His cry shook the ground as the sword struck its target: Kaylia.
Kaylia flew forward and fell to the ground, the hilt of the blade nearly crushing her skull. Gewey leaped over the flattened body of the Vrykol and was at Kaylia's side without pause. She was face down, blood pouring from the wound on the back of her head. Immediately, he tore the sleeve from his shirt and pressed it tightly over the wound, trying desperately to stop the bleeding.
“I will not lose you,” he cried. “Not now.”
Gewey closed his eyes and let the flow rage through him. Slowly, he allowed it to pass into Kaylia, focusing his mind on her injury. At first he wasn't sure anything was happening, then he felt it. The wound was closing and the flow of blood lessened to a trickle. He could feel that it was draining him, making him weaker, but he didn't care. When the wound had closed completely he stopped and gently turned her over. It was then he heard Linis approach. The elf paused beside the Vrykol, and beheaded the mangled body.
“She lives?” asked Linis, out of breath.
Gewey nodded, cradling Kaylia in his arms. “She lives.” Tears were streaming down his face as he stroked her hair tenderly. “Thank the Gods, she lives.”
Linis knelt beside them. He placed his hand on Gewey's shoulder and squeezed. “You did well, my friend.”
Nearly ten minutes passed before Kaylia stirred. Her eyes fluttered open as her hands slid up Gewey's chest and wrapped around his neck. “I knew you would come,” she whispered. She pulled him close and embraced him, intensely.
Gewey could feel the bond between them grow stronger and he allowed himself to be engulfed by their connection. He hadn't realized how much a part of himself the bond had become until it was weakened, and now that it had returned he bathed in the sensation.
Linis stood, his legs still a bit unsteady. “We cannot stay here.” He looked down at Kaylia. “Can you travel?”
Kaylia reluctantly released her hold on Gewey and sat up straight. “I am fine.” She noticed the seeker’s condition and frowned. “But you are clearly not well.”
Linis smiled. “I will be better once I have had a chance to rest.” He peered into the forest for a moment. “For now I can sense no pursuit. But I would have us far from this place come sundown.”
Gewey listened for signs of anyone nearby. “I can't sense anything, either. But I think you're right. We should get as far from here as we can.” He looked over at the body of the beheaded Vrykol and his face darkened. He stood, helping Kaylia to her feet.
“No need to coddle me,” she scolded, playfully. “From the look of you two, I am by far in the best condition.” Without another word she strode away north.
“I take it you will lead,” remarked Linis.
Kaylia glanced over her shoulder. “I know these lands very well. Maybe even as well as you, seeker. My captors wasted their time if they thought to confuse me.”
A wave of anger shot through her bond with Gewey when she mentioned her captivity. Gewey felt a sudden urge to hunt them all down and make them pay, but quickly pushed it from his thoughts. This was not the time.
Kaylia led them skillfully through the forest until the light of the day waned. By then they had traveled many miles. Linis had managed to keep pace despite his growing fatigue.
“I will scout the area,” said Linis, when they finally stopped to make camp.
“No,” said Kaylia, firmly. “You are too weak. I will see that the area is unwatched.” She turned to Gewey and took his empty flask from his belt. “There is a stream nearby, and possibly some herbs. In the meantime we will risk a small fire. Attend to it, if you please, Gewey.”
Linis tossed her his flask as well. “You may find jawas roots in these parts, or perhaps yellow silisia bulbs.”
Kaylia nodded and disappeared into the brush.
Linis offered to help with the fire, but Gewey wouldn't allow it.
“We need you strong again,” said Gewey. “You must rest. I can build a fire without help.”
Linis smiled and sat down against a nearby tree. He allowed his eyes to fall shut and his mind to drift.
By the time Kaylia returned, Gewey had a small fire crackling cheerfully. Linis was still leaning against the tree, arms folded and eyes closed.
Kaylia handed Gewey his now filled flask and sat next to him by the fire. “I could not find jawas, but silisia was plentiful.”
She withdrew a handful of small yellow flowers from her belt and began tearing them in tiny pieces. The air filled with a sickly sweet odor that reminded Gewey of plum brandy, only stronger. Once she was finished she opened Linis' flask and placed the shredded bulbs inside. Tearing a strip of cloth from her sleeve she tied the flask to a long twig and held it over the fire. “It’s not as good as jawas, but it will help.” She glanced over at Linis. Her expression was grave.
“What's wrong?” asked Gewey.
“Nothing,” she replied. “It is just odd to see someone such as Linis in this state.”
“He got that way healing me,” explained Gewey. He recounted the fight with the Vrykol.
“It is a wonder he was able to make it this far,” said Kaylia. “Healing of that sort is not easy,
and the cost is great. She touched the back of her head where the sword had struck, then looked deep into Gewey's eyes. She leaned in and kissed him gently. “You are powerful to have healed me the way you did. Such a feat would have incapacitated even the strongest elf.”
Gewey was flushed and his heart pounded. He could feel the warmth of her lips even when they were no longer on his. It took him a minute to speak. “I honestly don't know how I did it. Since we left the spirit world, it's like I understand the flow in my heart…but I still can't understand it in my mind.” His thoughts turned to how the Vrykol was able to block his abilities. “There's too much I don't understand.” He waved it off and smiled. “I wasn't able to reach out to you when the elves held you. I think somehow the Vrykol was responsible, but….” he shook his head and took Kaylia's hands. “Tell me what happened.”
Kaylia told him about her time in captivity. When she was done, she dropped the flask next to the fire and kissed Gewey again, this time long and deep.
“What was that for?” he stammered.
Kaylia smiled. “Because I feared I would never again have the chance. And…” She grabbed Gewey's collar roughly, and met his eyes. Her smile had vanished. “As we are bonded, it is my right.”
There was a long pause, then they both burst out in laughter. Gewey felt as if a weight had been lifted from his heart. They spent the next hour huddled together in silence, staring into the fire. Their bond made words unnecessary. Kaylia finished the tea and left it to cool.
“It will be ready by daybreak.” said Kaylia. “Linis should drink most of it, but be certain you have at least a mouthful.” She lay down on the forest floor. “Strong as you are, I can tell that healing me took its toll on you.”
Gewey hadn't noticed until that moment how much his body ached. He lay next to Kaylia and allowed his mind to drift into hers. He felt closer to her than ever before. A satisfied smile washed over his face as sleep finally took him.
Chapter 3
As Millet and Dina neared Sharpstone, Millet's spirits had noticeably lifted. When they were only a mile from town they spurred their horses to a quick trot. Millet looked to and fro, taking in familiar sights, grinning happily. Martha Tredall, one of the village mothers and the wife of Hallis Tredall, the cooper, was the first person they encountered. Martha was a short, sturdy woman, with shoulder-length, mouse-brown hair and a cheerful demeanor. Millet had many past dealings with her and had built a good rapport with both Martha and her husband, but as soon as she saw the two riding up, her typical good-natured smile turned to a sour stare. He took a quick glance at his dusty, stained shirt and trousers. Once tan, they were blotched with mud, making him look more like a farmer than a lord. Dina fared a bit better. She had chosen a dark brown blouse and matching pants, which hid the dirt from the long road far better.
“And just where have you been, Master Millet?” she asked when they were by her side. “Off making trouble with that Starfinder fellow, I imagine.” She looked back down the road where they had come. “I see he's not with you. So much the better. We have enough troubles without the likes of him around.”
“Mind what you say, Martha Tredall,” said Millet. “Lee Starfinder has never given you reason to speak ill of him. He's given your husband more than his share of business.”
Martha lowered her eyes. “That he has, true enough. But that doesn't excuse him for bringing trouble to our town, now does it?”
“What trouble?” asked Millet, steadying his horse.
Martha looked up at Millet. Her eyes were filled with anger. “Those bloody faithful. They arrived just after you and Lee made off with young Gewey Stedding.” She lowered her voice to a whisper. “Gewey's not coming back, is he?”
“Why do you ask?”
She stepped close. “Because they keep askin' about him…those faithful, I mean. They've asked everyone in town if they know where he is.”
“And what do you tell them?” asked Millet, suddenly feeling very exposed on the road.
Martha stood up straight and held her head high. “I don't tell them nothin'. I don't care how much gold they throw around. Besides, I don't know nothin' anyway. Last I heard he went north with Lee. Not that I believed a word of it, but that's what we heard from Lee's servants. From what I heard about those faithful, they're from up north. I figure if he went that way for real, they wouldn't be lookin’ for him here.”
Millet thought for a moment. “How many of these faithful are there?”
Martha shrugged. “Not many. Ten or so. But they got lots of gold. They make your master look like a beggar. And they use it, too.
They've practically bought the town. There's not a shop or farm in Sharpstone that isn't caught up with them somehow or other.”
“Where do they stay?” asked Millet.
“They built themselves a big house just north of town. Not far from your master’s place.” She took a step back and glanced at Dina. “You and your friend might want to stay away. They ain't hurt no one yet, but they look like they could.”
Millet's eyes narrowed. “No, my dear. I will not be staying away.” He looked down the road toward town. “And Lee Starfinder is no longer master. I am.” He spurred his horse. Dina followed closely behind.
The way to the manor took them just to the outskirts of town. The few people they passed on the way stopped and stared. Some dashed away. When they arrived at the entrance to one of the many roads that led to the house, Millet slowed his horse to a walk.
“I take it this is not the homecoming you were expecting,” said Dina.
Millet dropped his head and took a deep breath. “I wasn't certain what to expect. I thought Angraalmight be watching Sharpstone being that it was Gewey's hometown, but I didn't expect them to set up a base here.”
“What are you going to do?”
Millet looked up. Anger burned in his eyes. “I'm going to kick them out of my town.”
As they approached the house, Millet caught sight of two servants busy tending the garden. He recognized them as Barty Inglewood and his son, Randson. Lee had hired them on, five years ago. Originally from Gath, they were as stout and dedicated workers as a person could hope to find. Their faces lit up when they saw Millet.
“I thought you'd left us for good,” called Barty. He set down his rake and removed his work gloves, shoving them in his pocket. His son only glanced up and nodded from where he was trimming the hedges, then went back to his work.
“As did I,” said Millet.
“Randson,” called Barty. “Help Millet and…”
“This is Dina,” said Millet. “A friend. This is Barty Inglewood and his son, Randson. They are by far the best gardeners for a hundred miles.”
“A friend of Millet's is mine, as well,” Barty bowed awkwardly. “And where is Lord Starfinder?”
Millet and Dina dismounted and began unpacking their gear. “Lee will not be coming.”
Barty rubbed his chin. “I see. I've never heard you call him Lee before, so I reckon you have news to tell.” He began gathering their things. “You'll be wanting to wash up. I'll get Lydia started on your rooms and a bath. Meal time may have to wait for a couple of hours though. Most everyone is staying down at the Stedding farm now days.”
“Lee instructed for the farm to be cared for,” said Millet. “But I don't think he intended for his entire staff to move there.” He took a quick look around. “Who's left?”
“Me and my boy, of course. Lydia does most of the housework, and Trevor, the old cook Lee hired a couple of years ago, is still here. But he doesn't move around so good anymore, so Lydia helps in the kitchen, too.” He slung a pack over his shoulder. “No one wants to be around now that all those newcomers are about. The rest of the staff comes about once a week to see to repairs and the like, but then they're off again. If Lord Starfinder didn't pay so good they’d all be moved away by now.”
Mention of the newcomers brought tension to Millet's face.
“I see you've already heard about t
hem,” said Barty. He started toward the house. “Well, don't you worry. They don't come calling here anymore. Me and my boy ran them off.”
Millet kept silent and he and Dina followed Barty through the front door. The house was just as Millet remembered. The main hall was just beyond the door and furnished with heavy oak couches and chairs covered with soft, suede upholstery. The walls were decorated with exotic tapestries Lee had acquired during his many travels. A fire crackled in the hearth at the far right end and two silver lamps glowed dimly against the wall behind the couch. Just next to the fireplace was a door that led to the dining hall and sitting room. In the near corner was another that led to Lee's study and bedrooms. The hardwood floors were covered with a large blood red rug, woven with delicate silver patterns. Lee had purchased it in Dantory when he was not much more than a boy.
Millet moved to the wall to avoid stepping on it as he made his way to the rear door. It would be a shame to muddy such a beautiful thing.
“I will take the master suite,” said Millet.
Barty cocked an eyebrow but said nothing.
When he reached the master bedroom, he asked Barty to show Dina to a guest room and went inside. Barty could see that Millet was now in charge, and obeyed at once. Millet took a long look around. The large bed was built from flame maple, polished and stained to a dark brown. The green bed coverings were soft and thick. Millet had often envied Lee such a comfortable sleep. In the corner was a small round table and two chairs where Lee used to take his breakfast. A book of Baltrian poems still sat on the table where it had been left. A large wardrobe in the corner was still ajar from Lee's quick departure and a bookcase against the wall still bore signs of his rummaging through it. Millet took a deep breath and began to unpack. It was his now. All of it. For good or ill, he was lord of the manor.
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