Journey of Wisdom

by Shawna Thomas

Finally she thought of Tobar, the fierce leader of the Heleini—a nomadic tribe on the Faisach. He’d taken her innocence and her heart. She reached around her neck for the necklace of blue beads he’d given her, then remembered she’d taken them off in Greton. They were safe in a pocket in her medicine pouch. She tensed to retrieve them but settled against Mohan again. They were better kept as a memento. That part of her life had served its purpose, but it was over now. Back then, she’d been Sara, a young girl thrown into a life she didn’t quite understand with a quest that was both mysterious and exciting.

  Now she was Ilythra, the wanderer spoken of in a legend no one remembered, tasked to find a people who seemed to have disappeared from memory. The undertaking was no longer mysterious or exciting. She would either accomplish it or die trying. At this point it was a toss-up which would happen first.

  So many goodbyes. Each painful in its own way. Each parting had taken a part of her and remade her in a subtle way. Grandfather, Nolwen, Maelys, Tobar, Zeynel.

  The sun rose in shades of pink. She stared at the still-sleeping Benai.

  And now Mohan.

  Chapter Eleven

  “My lord, there is a man here to see you.”

  Bredych paused. He’d been pouring an elixir into a small glass vial. A single precious drop spilled on the wooden table. He’d moved part of his workroom into the palace. Going back and forth from his estate on the other side of the mountain to the palace, even through the secret tunnels, was no longer practical. Of course his own staff knew better than to disturb him while he worked. He ground his teeth together, took a deep breath and then spoke. “He can wait.”

  Konrad cleared his throat. “He says it’s most important.”

  He pictured walking over and breaking the steward’s neck. But he still needed him to run the day-to-day tasks at the castle, details which were of no interest to Bredych, but he did like food on the table. He marshaled his irritation. “Send him in.”

  The first feeling of unease crept across his skin when the tall Rugian walked in and bowed low and then stared at Konrad. The steward’s eyes went wide. Bredych waved him away.

  “What is it?” Bredych kept his tone even.

  “My lord.” The warrior was visibly shaking. Bredych’s unease grew. “Several prisoners have escaped from the forge at Harin.”

  Bredych sat in his chair. Ilythra. “How?”

  The Rugian looked up, swallowed and then turned his gaze back to the floor. “The men all got sick. Most of us were unable to fight or even leave our pallets. A woman started a fire in the forge and led the slaves away.”

  A woman. Yes, it had been Ilythra. “The weapons?”

  “They were searching through the remains when I left. Some were damaged, but not all.”

  “How many escaped?”

  “Only two or three dozen. There was a night shift in the mines and we rounded up a few stragglers.”

  Not many but enough to delay him. “Weak, bound slaves escaped from an entire camp of Rugian warriors?”

  He swallowed again. “They had help. The woman attacked the camp. The slaves helped her.”

  Bredych almost smiled. It cost the man to admit that. Although there were Rugian goddesses, Rugian women did not fight. Being defeated by a woman was considered shameful. “A woman?” Bredych rubbed the point home.

  “One of the men said she was the goddess Thira, alive.”

  “Did he? And where is he now?”

  The Rugian paled. “He’s on his way back home. He said he would no longer serve...” the man hesitated, “...a monster.”

  Bredych let the smile form. “I see.” He tapped his fingers on the arm of the chair. “And what do you think? Was this the goddess Thira?”

  “She fought like her, my lord. But it couldn’t be. The goddess has no interest in slaves.”

  But Ilythra would. He stared at the Rugian. The man didn’t know it, but his answer had saved his life. He couldn’t have any of the Rugians thinking the gods or goddesses didn’t support him. It would cause too much doubt. “Did you go after them?”

  “Yes. We sent a dozen seasoned warriors after her. I left to inform you of the escape soon after.”

  So maybe they would capture her, but he wouldn’t wager on it. “So you don’t know if the slaves have been recaptured.”

  “No my lord, but I do not see how a group of slaves could defeat twelve Rugians.”

  “A moon ago you would not have been able to see how a solitary woman could steal slaves out of a camp of seasoned warriors either.” Bredych focused at the air between himself and the Rugian. She’d risked her life to save a handful of slaves. Why? The stupidity of the action, the time wasted, disgusted him. Disgusted but didn’t surprise. Hadn’t she risked her life to save the brat in the mountains? The unease matured into a thread of fear. He didn’t understand her motivation and he didn’t like it.

  The old woman’s words came back to him. He could remember the scene with clarity. The dark cave, fire popping in a shallow pit and her words: The horsemen will be your downfall.

  He’d been in the far south where horses were frequently used, so it hadn’t seemed like much of a threat. Until he’d met the Heleini. They’d be out of the equation if not for Ilythra’s interference.

  A shudder ran down his spine. No, they were too far away and not interested in what happened in the north lands. Their continued existence didn’t change anything. Once he was established here, he’d send his armies south and paint the sands red. First, he needed to capture the thorn in his side and get the Rugians back in line. He glanced at the elixir. The problem of the prince could wait. There was little the brat could do anyway.

  “Go after the man who thought he saw Thira. Bring him to me. I’d have a word with him.”

  The Rugian bowed low. “Yes, my lord.”

  * * *

  “Think, Mohan.” Ilythra took a deep breath. The Benai was being stubborn. She knew he would be, but it didn’t change matters. If she hadn’t known he’d follow her, she’d have sneaked off at dawn while he slept. “Bredych knows a Benai helped me. He’ll be looking for revenge and he won’t care which troupe you’re from. He won’t even stop at one. All the Benai are in danger. You need to warn them.”

  He stared into the canopy of new leaves above them. “We are a lot tougher than you think.”

  “I don’t question Benai skill or toughness or even your tenacity. I question your numbers. One troupe has how many men? Two dozen? Three? Even if the women fight to protect the children and old, do you think three dozen can stand up to an army of Rugians?”

  “You think he’d march his army across the plains without alerting a few kings?” Mohan asked, but he didn’t look her in the eye. He knew she was right.

  Ilythra paused a moment to collect her thoughts. She’d taken everything she’d seen, everything she knew about Bredych, and could only come up with one conclusion. “No. I think he’ll attack the Benai in the night with a small band of Rugians. He will tell them to leave none alive as an example to the other troupes.”

  Mohan paled.

  “He might attack one or a dozen in the same manner. Enough to keep you frightened and your way of life threatened.”

  Pain radiated through Mohan’s eyes. His shoulders slumped.

  “Did you see how many swords and knives they were making in the valley? Do you think that’s the only such forge? Bredych means to start a war.”

  He remained silent and still didn’t look at her. Melior drank from the pool and turned in their direction. Water dripped from his muzzle.

  “I think once he’s at full power, he could march right into the plains and attack the first king,” Ilythra continued. “Even if there is an alliance, it will take time to gather warriors. The kingdoms will fall one at a time. Mainly because they believe they c
an withstand an attack alone.”

  Melior walked toward her. She stroked his soft neck.

  “I don’t want to leave you.” His voice sounded tortured. He was torn between his loyalty to his troupe, to the Benai and to her.

  She swallowed past a lump in her throat. “And I like having you around. But you said yourself, the Siobani probably won’t let you into their lands, and that’s where I’m going next.” First she needed to get past whatever traps Bredych laid for her. But she wouldn’t share that information with Mohan. She reached out and briefly touched his arm. “And you need to warn your people.”

  Ilythra turned to finished packing what few supplies she had onto Melior. She blinked back tears. Crying wouldn’t help Mohan make the right decision. Seeing how hard this was for her would not encourage him to leave her. And he’d never forgive himself if something happened to his troupe while he was gone.

  “The Benai are territorial. We don’t gather often.” His voice had lost conviction.

  She struggled with the weight of sorrow. She didn’t want to see him go, but it was best. Ilythra took a deep breath and then shrugged and tried for a lighter tone. “I think they’ll listen to you. And if they don’t, then you tried.”

  “By the north wind, I hate that you’re making sense!” He ran a hand through his hair, causing the dark strands to stick up at odd angles.

  It was done. He’d go. Ilythra raised an eyebrow. “You liked me better when I was dazed and disoriented?”

  His grin didn’t reach his eyes. “I like you best when you’re self-assured and beating me at my own game. But we’ll keep that between us.”

  Ilythra nodded. She’d won, but the victory was hollow.

  They looked at each other for a long moment.

  “This is goodbye?” he asked. His blue eyes grew misty.

  Tears blurred her vision. She blinked them back, not trusting her voice.

  “No, it’s not.” Mohan cleared his throat. “I can’t believe the winds won’t bring us back together again sometime. I mean, who’s gonna rescue you if not me?”

  She grinned. “I seem to remember it’s my turn to rescue you, anyway.”

  Mohan opened his arms, and she rushed into them. His scent surrounded her, warm and comforting. He pulled her away and stared into her eyes, then lowered his head and kissed her.

  His soft lips pressed against hers, and when he licked the seam of her mouth, she opened her lips. Their tongues danced as he pressed his body close. Finally he pulled away. Their gazes caught and held. They smiled in unison.

  “Never had one, but I imagine that’s what it would feel like to kiss my brother.” Ilythra rubbed the moisture from her eyes.

  Mohan nodded. “Agreed, if you change it to sister. But it was worth a shot.”

  “Yes, it was.” She cupped his cheek with her hand. “Your horse isn’t far?” Her voice broke.

  He shook his head. His eyes glistened.

  She backed a step and swung up on Melior’s back.

  “Always sleep with an open window,” Mohan said.

  She smiled. “And you be more selective about the women you pick.”

  “They’ll all pale in your light.”

  “Be careful, Mohan.” Tears clogged her throat.

  “You too.”

  Melior whinnied low in his throat and they walked out of the clearing. She glanced back once to see Mohan watching them leave and then let Melior pick his own path. She couldn’t see for the tears streaming down her face.

  She wiped her eyes with her sleeve and steeled her spine. There was no time to mourn now. She had a gauntlet to face.

  Part Two

  “I have been waiting for you, child. Hurry.”

  Chapter Twelve

  Reining in Melior, Ilythra examined the valley below her. A castle sat on a small hill that was tiered with low rock walls. She imagined the road zigzagged up the hill between the walls but couldn’t get a clear look from her position. Farmland surrounded the castle, bisected by pale white lines she assumed were rock dividers. The land was dark and furrowed with newly sown crops.

  A tall stone wall protected the castle and several buildings. Another distanced the castle from the lesser structures. The castle itself was unremarkable. Pale gray stone shone under the light. Elston didn’t possess a keep, but four turrets rose from the corners of the stone building. If Greton’s castle was flamboyant, Elston looked solid—almost practical.

  It had taken the better part of two days to get to Elston, even though she’d stopped only long enough to rest Melior, get a few hours’ sleep and find something to eat. She avoided the bridge crossing the Lledon, the natural border between the kingdoms of Elston and Greton. The bridge was sure to be watched, and she vaguely remembered Erhard telling her it had been destroyed during the winter and would be rebuilt in the spring. She’d opted to swim the icy waters farther upstream.

  She glanced down the valley. Would Bredych have the castle gates watched too? Was it possible to be too paranoid where he was concerned? She doubted it. By now he’d know that she wasn’t far away. The castle’s stone walls gleamed in the afternoon sun. A steady stream of people passed in and out of the gated city. Elston was the closest of Greton’s allies and the most plausible place Bredych would start on his campaign. It made sense to subjugate the eastern kingdoms first. He could even say he was reuniting them for the good of all. Erhard had believed it was not only possible but a good plan.

  Once the eastern kingdoms were under his control, his numbers would swell, and the smaller kingdoms to the west didn’t stand a chance. It was a sound strategy. Sometimes it scared her how clearly she saw into his mind. She needed to warn Elston. Maybe if the king was prepared for him, they’d have a chance, and if Elston didn’t fall to Bredych, then his strategy would be compromised. He’d have to rethink his plan.

  Melior ducked his head and pranced in place.

  “Easy, boy.”

  It would be so easy to ride on by. Ignore the stone’s promptings and leave Elston to its fate. Not only easy, it was the safest thing for her to do. But then, would she be any better than Bredych? He used the stone to further his goals and desires at the expense of those around him. The stones were created to foster peace. To help people just like those in Elston. A group moved down the road, leaving the castle. She followed a couple’s progress as they entered a small village a stone’s throw from the castle walls. Children ran through the streets. Dark patches at the back or front of houses were probably gardens of some kind. So different from the villages to the south in Greton. Greton’s villages had been dismal, oppressed. Hope denied.

  If Greton attacked Elston, most of the villagers would die. If Bredych’s hordes won... She didn’t want to finish the thought.

  Melior tossed his head. Ilythra dismounted and pulled a rough cloth from her saddlebag. Sweat glistened the horse’s ivory coat. They’d ridden hard. She glanced back at the valley. She didn’t have time to linger. Bredych had probably warned the castle, told them some lie anyway. They wouldn’t believe her. Ilythra sighed. It was all true. But she couldn’t ignore Teann’s leading or deny that it was urging her to ride down the hill.

  She jumped on Melior’s back and guided him toward the castle. “Maybe they’ll have oats.”

  A cool breeze blew from the north, moisture in its breath. Ilythra glanced to the pale blue sky. There would be rain soon. The skies could be deceptively innocent looking in the spring. One moment a peaceful blue, the next an angry gray. She hoped the weather wasn’t an indication of things to come. As she rode toward the castle, Melior’s hooves released puffs of dust into the air. The land needed rain as much as it needed sunshine. Balance.

  She dismounted behind a small group of peasants. They looked at her with obvious confusion but didn’t protest when she joined them. Ilythra passed under
the watchful eye of the guards at the first gate and then picked her way through winding streets toward the castle, which stood above the smaller dwellings: a ruler in its own right.

  She kept alert, with every sense strained to pick up anyone tailing her or anything out of the ordinary. Shop owners called to one another and the scent of freshly baked bread grew stronger, making her stomach clench with hunger. Guards stood on either side of a second large gated wall. After this there would be no going back. She pictured the peasants in the small village and breathed out in a long whoosh as she approached one of the guards. Business as usual. “My name is Ilythra. I desire an audience with your king. It’s a matter of urgency.”

  The guard’s eyes widened slightly, but he nodded and signaled a small boy. The boy was dressed the same as the guards, in blue and gold with the standard of an elk sewing into the breast of his tunic. He bowed formally. “If you’ll please, ma’am, follow me. I’ll run and tell the king you’re here and then I’ll get your horse stabled.”

  The guards exchanged a glance. Was it a trap or simple curiosity? By the Mother. She stroked Ilydearta through the tunic. I hope we know what we’re doing. “Thank you.” Leading Melior, Ilythra followed the boy. Once they were out of the guard’s hearing, she stopped. “I’d like to know where he’s stabled. I’ll follow you there first.”

  The little boy hesitated then nodded. She studied the lay of buildings. If she had to leave in a hurry, she wanted to know the fastest way to the gate. She grinned. Mohan was rubbing off on her. The warm scent of manure and hay filled her nostrils as they neared the stables. Melior snorted.

  The boy spoke to an older man in low tones then turned to her. “I’ll inform the king you’re here, then be back to walk you to the door.” He scurried out of sight.

  “Miss, if you’ll allow.” The man reached for Melior’s reins.

  Melior snatched his head out of range, his nostrils wide.

  “I will, but he won’t.” Ilythra turned to the horse. “Remember, oats?” Melior tapped the ground with his front leg. “Yes, then let this nice man rub you down, and I’ll be right back.”