Heir of Fain [Faxinor Chronicles #1]

by Michelle L. Levigne

  Despite the dead bodies, the mood was light as they returned to the castle. Lady Arriena pretended dismay when she was called to come hear what Kalsan and Andrixine had done.

  "Well, I'll have you know you'll just have to endure the ceremony tomorrow all over again,” she said, shaking her head, eyes sparkling to make a lie of her frown. “With all the preparations we've made and the guests expected tomorrow—” Then she laughed and hugged her daughter, kissing both cheeks. A moment later she shocked Kalsan speechless by hugging and kissing him, too.

  He was still speechless as everyone began to disperse to return to their beds. Lady Arriena hooked her arm through her daughter's and led her away. Kalsan stared, knowing something was wrong in the picture but forgetting for a moment why Andrixine shouldn't go without him. Then he remembered, and he was more confused than ever. Should he go after her? Should he protest? It wasn't like he could ask advice, could he?

  Then he turned and saw Lord Edrix watching him with amusement and sympathy in his eyes. Kalsan wondered if he could ask his new father-in-law what to do. Before he could decide, his brother and two sisters and their spouses descended on him, demanding to know what had happened.

  The women thought it all terribly romantic, and his brother and brothers-in-law gave varying approval. Two hours later when he finally reached his too-large room, Kalsan didn't know what he should have done. He only knew he felt very lonely.

  Until he saw the dark shape curled up on one side of his bed, asleep. He stood many long moments over her with the lamp in his hand, smiling until he thought his mouth would ache for days. Andrixine's hair was still damp from bathing, freed from her warrior braids. She looked small, wearing a thin, white cotton gown that hinted at tempting curves and shadows. Kalsan peeled off his shirt and boots and lay down on top of the blankets. It felt very right to stretch out next to her, spoon fashion, and wrap an arm around his wife.

  "Kal?” she whispered sleepily, stirring at his touch.

  "Sshh. Go back to sleep."

  "Mother is ... the wisest ... woman ... in the world,” she said on a sigh that turned into a yawn.

  "Thank Yomnian for that.” He pressed a kiss against the back of her neck.

  "Tickles.” A sleepy laugh escaped her and she turned over to face him.

  "Go back to sleep.” That was the last thing he wanted, however.

  "Kiss me?"

  "You'll be sorry.” He grinned, his heart suddenly racing at the sparkles that filled her eyes.

  Andrixine curved her hand around the back of his neck and kissed him. It was the best possible answer he could have wanted.

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  PART FOUR

  Sendorland

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  Chapter Eighteen

  FOUR DAYS LATER, while out in the eastern fields of the estate, Andrixine saw the king's messenger, waving the king's banner of a black hawk on a green field, approaching down the long, straight trade road to the castle. She and Kalsan had come out with several others to choose which horses to take when they left in the morning for Cereston.

  Andrixine knew she shouldn't be surprised to see the messenger. King Rafnar knew about her marriage and her intent to come to Cereston to report to him. It was pure good luck—or perhaps Yomnian's staying hand—that let her and Kalsan have this much time together before appearing in public. The king had likely only sent his messenger as escort.

  What surprised her was the troop of twenty warriors in the king's own livery of deep green and black, and a flag flying above them with a silver sword on a dark blue, starry field. The flag of the Sword Bearer. Andrixine managed to keep a calm face, despite her discomfort, when the messenger rode straight to where she waited with Kalsan, Derek, Brother Klee and Jultar, and knelt after dismounting.

  "Hail, Sword Bearer,” the man said for the fourth time, as he rose from kneeling. He extended the slim pole carrying her flag. “Who rides for the Bearer?"

  Derek slid off his mare and darted forward. Andrixine let a smile crack her solemn mask, proud of her brother's poise. He showed the effects of several intense hours of lecturing from Brother Klee, silent, quick, and he remembered to bow to the messenger before he took the banner.

  "Greetings to you all from King Rafnar,” the man continued. “He welcomes you and asks Yomnian's blessing on you and bids you hurry to join him."

  "Does the king send for us for a reason?” Brother Klee asked from his place on Andrixine's left.

  She bit her lip against a grin when the messenger went pale. If she hadn't been overwhelmed by other considerations, the thought of Rakleer, alive, would have intimidated her, too.

  "Envoys have come from Sendorland, suing for peace."

  "That doesn't make sense,” Andrixine said, looking first to Kalsan on her right and then Jultar beyond him. “All the signs point to war."

  "Envoys have come, speaking of land they claim was stolen from them in the past,” the messenger said.

  "Do they ask for compensation, or the land itself?” Brother Klee asked.

  "That hasn't been spoken in my hearing."

  "We should hurry, shouldn't we?” she said. “We're almost ready to leave, anyway."

  "Tomorrow,” Kalsan muttered. She hoped her face didn't look as red warm as it felt. In his voice, she heard her own longing for more time to grow used to being married. And more privacy.

  The messenger hurried back to his own horse to remount. He rode at the back of their group, next to Derek. The king's soldiers followed close behind. Derek proudly held up her banner as he rode, and Andrixine wondered how long it would take for his arm to get tired.

  "Hurry, yes,” Jultar said as they crossed the wide fields where the horses had been pastured. “If the Sendorland envoys know a new Sword Bearer has appeared, tutored by Rakleer, perhaps they will change the tone of their negotiations."

  Andrixine and Kalsan traded knowing grins.

  "Lesson time,” she murmured.

  "Indeed,” Brother Klee said. He glanced over his shoulder at the messenger. “Sendorland avoids envoys as a waste of time. The self-righteous always believe that what they want is merely their due, and they have the right to punish anyone who refuses them. When they do send diplomats, it is to make demands, not to negotiate. They demand and make threats and paint themselves as righteous victims. They ignore the truth when it suits them—and it suits them often, as history shows."

  "Then this is a trick?” Kalsan asked. He glanced at Andrixine, frowning. She could guess his thoughts.

  "Is it possible they have visionaries and they know the Spirit Sword is moving again?” she asked. “Maybe they mean to distract us from noticing something else?"

  "If so, they are likely in terror,” Jultar said. “Remember their prophecy that says a woman with a bright sword will bring disaster on them."

  "If they had any sense, they would give up now,” Kalsan said, trying for laughter.

  The attempt fell flat, and they all nudged their horses to go a little faster. The sooner they were prepared, the sooner they could leave. Duty called.

  * * * *

  THEY SET OUT before noon and that night camped by a trickle of river so small it had no name. Andrixine was glad of Kalsan's warmth against her, his arm tight around her, despite being so self-conscious about lying next to him where everyone could see.

  Toward morning, her dreams congealed into a vision that woke her with a choked shout. She tried to sit up and struggled, kicking and twisting, when Kalsan held her.

  "Sshh,” he whispered in her ear. “It's all right. It's only a dream."

  "No.” Her voice cracked. “Not a dream.” She tugged an arm free and wiped sweat from her face. “Alysyn is—where's Brother Klee?"

  The holy man was awake, sitting before the fire. Andrixine settled down next to him, grateful for the knowledge that he had sensed her dreams and foresaw that she would need his help.

  "I saw Snowy Mount under attack. Soldiers pour through a
crack in the mountain, coming with fire against the walls. They fight and kill, but they don't finish the job.” She shook her head, frowning as the vision grew clearer. “The scholars and healers aren't their targets, but obstacles. They tear down the walls, but they have another target, someone inside.” Andrixine shuddered. Kalsan slid an arm around her. “It's Alysyn. They want her. Because of me,” she finished on a whisper.

  "What do you say we should do, Sword Bearer?” Brother Klee asked, voice and gaze neutral. He spoke as a teacher, prompting her to consider and judge for herself.

  For a moment, Andrixine resented his calm. She wanted to scream at him to tell her what to do. Then she thought of the implications of this attack. A tiny, nasty smile cracked the agonized mask of her face.

  "They think they're making a surprise attack. They'll send a small force against peaceful scholars, sure that no one can resist."

  "But we'll be there, won't we?” Kalsan asked. His grin was vicious. “They'll never know what hit them."

  "No,” Brother Klee said. “They must know what has happened. They must be taught it is futile to try to move secretly against the Spirit Sword, and dangerous to try to harm the Bearer."

  * * * *

  THE KING'S MESSENGER balked at the news they would not continue to the capital. He grew pale when Andrixine gave him a message for the king.

  "But—Sword Bearer—to command the king—” He shook his head. Color rushed back into his face in his confusion. Andrixine suspected he had never been at a loss for words before.

  "She does not command the king. Yet,” Brother Klee added after a pause for emphasis. “It is her right as Bearer to counter the king's instructions. She asks his Majesty to join her in battle against Sendorland. She borrows the soldiers he has sent to accompany her. There is a vast difference."

  "Yes, sir,” the man said, regaining some poise. He turned back to Andrixine, his face still stricken.

  "Don't you understand? If we let them win this first skirmish, they will believe themselves capable of winning the war.” Andrixine shuddered at using “skirmish” for the attack aimed at her sister. “We must show them they can do nothing, plan nothing the Spirit Sword cannot enable us to counter.” Standing in her stirrups, she pointed to the west, toward Snowy Mount and the mountain barrier between Reshor and Sendorland. “We are going. If it pleases the king, ask him to join us."

  She dropped into the saddle, hard enough to make Grennel grunt. Andrixine nudged him, and he leaped forward as if starting a race. Kalsan stayed at her side from the start. Jultar and Brother Klee, with the Oathbound and the king's soldiers close behind in formation, trailed out behind them, leaving the king's messenger staring after them with his mouth hanging open.

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  Chapter Nineteen

  KALSAN WAS ALMOST disappointed to see the unmarred walls and open gates of Snowy Mount with the afternoon shadows stretching out dark and long before them. Their band had covered the distance in seven days of hard riding, cutting through forests and across plains, ignoring trade roads and villages and inns. Each night he held Andrixine close, wrapped in their blankets by the campfire. He watched her for signs of distress, wracking his brains for the right words to say when she needed help. She remained calm, speaking reasonably, discussing terrain and battle maneuvers. Kalsan saw the haunted look in her eyes in unguarded moments, though. He saw when she wiped surreptitiously at her eyes. She was silent during morning and evening prayers, and he knew her heart was too full to speak what weighed on her. He fell silent during worship times as well, and cried out from his heart on her behalf.

  When she clung to him in the semi-privacy of their blankets and hid her face against his shoulder to let out a few tears in silence, he understood the importance of his duty. Andrixine, as Sword Bearer, guarded Reshor. He guarded her, heart and mind and body.

  He wished for a little trouble, a little conflict to let her release the worry churning inside her. It almost would have been welcome to see some sign of trouble among the holy folk. No one rang a warning bell as they rode up to the open gates. The various men and women paused in their tasks and regarded them with only a little interest, no worry or relief on their faces.

  Two soldiers with Faxinor triple-cross crests on their tunics saw them and came running from the stables. Then Sister Dainia stepped forward to help with their horses and called out to Brother Klee.

  "Where is my sister?” Andrixine asked the guardsman Taran, after greeting him. “And Trilia?"

  "No one can guess where the little miss is hiding,” Taran said with a crooked grin lighting his dusky, white-bearded face. “Nurse is hunting for her. She has been since just before nooning.” He glanced at Kalsan, then back to Andrixine. “Excuse my saying, M'Lady, but I thought you'd still be celebrating your wedding."

  "We would, if the sword hadn't spoken,” Kalsan broke in. “Have you been here long enough to know the defenses?"

  "Defenses, sir?” He rocked back on his heels and stared at Kalsan. “I suppose—"

  "I know them,” Brother Klee said, joining them after conferring with Sister Dainia. “Come, we must meet with Lucius."

  "Alysyn—” Andrixine began.

  "Is fine.” The holy man rested his hand on her shoulder. “The enemy has not arrived, and, if I am correct, will not for several more days.” He gestured toward the central building. Andrixine frowned, but didn't resist when he led the way across the courtyard and inside.

  "You said once...” Her frown deepened as she thought. “The sword gives you visions of what men plan, yes? The future if we don't intervene?"

  "The sword showed you the plans as they were made. If the plans were made in the capital in Sendorland, they have even further to travel than we did. And, unless the army has changed its ways since I wore the Spirit Sword, it does not take only a few hours to arm and provision and assemble an attacking force. Even a small one, to fight some unprepared, unarmed scholars.” Brother Klee's tight smile grew sharp.

  Kalsan saw what sort of warrior he had been, generations ago. He thought of Andrixine wearing that expression in another hundred years, teaching the next Bearer. He shuddered.

  "I think I know why and how they chose Snowy Mount and Alysyn,” Andrixine said, when they passed through the wide, double doors and started down the cool, blue-tiled hallway. “Uncle Maxil. He came across the border when he escaped Faxinor. That's why we couldn't find him. He told them I was Sword Bearer. He told them how to hurt me by taking Alysyn."

  "Then he can't know Feril is dead,” Kalsan said.

  "No.” She shook her head. Her eyes narrowed as she visibly added that bit of information to her calculations.

  "We can use that against him at the proper time."

  "You make a good team,” Brother Klee said. They came to a cross hall, and he gestured to the left. “May you, together, be a curse on your enemies and a blessing on your allies."

  A few steps later Andrixine halted, holding out a hand to signal them to silence. Kalsan turned to her, worried, then puzzled when he saw the smile curl up the corners of her mouth. He hadn't seen her smile like that in days. Then he heard a little girl's prattling voice.

  "No one would think to bother Lucius for Alysyn's whereabouts,” Brother Klee said, eyes sparkling.

  Kalsan felt a considerable brightening of the atmosphere as they continued down the hall. The door to the High Scholar's quarters stood ajar, letting them peek through the gap before announcing themselves.

  Alysyn sat on the woven rug, moving carved wooden animals and describing what each one did and thought to the white-garbed, smiling man sitting on the hearth watching her. A decimated bowl of cherry conserves and muffins sat within her reach, with evidence of her snacking smeared on her face and her blue dress. Kalsan studied the little girl, seeing the Faxinor bones softened by baby fat. He glanced at Andrixine, startled by the sight of her face balanced between laughter and tears.

  He felt a dropping sensation in his stomach, no
t at all unpleasant, when he remembered they were expected to have children. He wouldn't mind a little red-haired girl or two.

  "Did you save any cherries for me?” Andrixine asked, pushing the door open.

  "Rixy!” Alysyn crowed after staring at her sister for five long seconds, her mouth hanging open and all the toys dropping from her hands. She clapped her hands and sprang from the floor to fling herself at her sister.

  "Poppet.” She hugged the little girl, spinning them in a circle twice before settling on the bench next to the door. “Have you been a good soldier like you promised? You haven't been giving High Scholar Lucius trouble?” she added, giving the man a smile and nod in greeting.

  "She has brightened our days considerably,” the elderly man said, rising to meet them. “What brings you back to us so swiftly?"

  "The sword has shown her trouble striking Snowy Mount,” Brother Klee said.

  "Ah.” He turned a curious smile to Kalsan.

  "High Scholar Lucius,” Andrixine hurried to say, “this is my husband, Kalsan of Hestrin."

  "Of Faxinor,” Kalsan corrected her with a mocking frown. “We came all the way to meet you, little sister,” he added, when Alysyn's eyes grew wide and she opened her mouth to blurt the question visible on her face.

  "But Rixy—” The child shook her head, a pout turning her mouth into a rosebud.

  "It's all right, poppet.” Andrixine squeezed her sister until she giggled. “We're going to have a special party when you get home again, just because you missed the wedding. You'll like that, won't you?” She waited until the child's face relaxed into a smile again, then put her down. “Now, I want you to go find Nurse. She's been looking for you."

  "Nursey?” Alysyn wriggled free of Andrixine's arms. “Where?” She darted out the door before her sister could answer.