by J. R. Castle
“You will never be left alone, son of the King. You have a host of Logorians to aid you. They will remain until I return. You are the Regent of this town. Be the Regent they deserve and need, Leonard, my lion-hearted friend.” Riyah patted his chest where the medallion rested against his breast. “You’ve been chosen for times such as this. Do what you do best. Lead them into rebuilding and restoring what was lost. The first snows will soon be upon you. Work diligently and steadfastly at what needs to be done.”
With that, Riyah the Elderad stumbled through the portal. The moment he passed through, it closed up, and Leon was left standing alone in the pool.
Chapter Fifteen
True to his word, Prior Wilhelm did try to make changes around Goia. Despite Mother’s grumblings, they opened the Gathering Room once a week to anyone who wished to hear more of Miltie’s stories.
Kardia had a difficult time at first, convincing the elder woman to come out of her cottage. Miltie said the people’s hearts were too hard. A few simple stories would never break through the ice that had not only frozen the roads of Goia but the listening ears of the people, as well.
“What else is there to do?” Kardia demanded, growing frustrated. The snows had come, covering everything with a dusting of white. The fields were dormant, the gardens, too. “All that’s left is to sit by the fire, drinking your teas. Miltie, this is the perfect time for us. We mustn’t lose hope.”
The woman wouldn’t be moved. “I’ve worked hard all during the growing season, I deserve to sit and enjoy the fruits of my labor. If I close my eyes, I can pretend my Tarlton is still with me. He used to love talking about anything and everything under the sun. Soon, I’ll be able to join him in Everlasting.”
Kardia sat heavily in the chair that Tarlton might have once occupied. Miltie blinked, as if coming out of her memories, then scowled and sipped her tea.
“I’m here now, Miltie. And since you haven’t been called to the Land of Everlasting, then that must mean Shaydon has things he’d like you to do before you go.” She leaned on the arm of the chair and waited until Miltie’s gaze met hers. “Do you really wish to have to explain to your Tarlton why you chose to sit by a fire and sip tea when there were people in need right outside of your door?”
Miltie’s wrinkles circling her eyes deepened as she faced the fire again. “Bah, they don’t care to hear anything I have to say.”
“The children do. They told me so. I’ve been sharing a few stories that you taught me, but…I’ve not been there.” Her throat began to burn. “I’ve not stood before the king. And from the looks of things, I may never be able to.” She sank back into the chair, also staring at the flickering flames as they danced over the glowing red branches. “At least, when I hear your stories, I can feel like I’m almost there. No matter what that sorcerer comes to take from me, he’ll never be able to take away your stories.” She pressed her hand to her chest. “They’ll always be right here.”
Miltie’s cup hit the side table with a clatter, as amber liquid sloshed over the brim. “Very well. Very well. Child, you…. Talk about having the gift of persuasion.” She stood, wrapping her shawl tighter around her bent shoulders. “How could I ever face my King until I see this to its end?” She sighed while slipping into her boots. “I do miss my Tarlton. He had a way with people I never did. He never lost patience with them.”
Kardia slipped on her woolen cloak, then helped the Herbalist on with hers. “He’s going to be so proud of you when the two of you meet again. I have no doubt.”
Despite Miltie’s reluctance, she smiled as they walked across the town to the Meeting Hall, hand-in-hand. Kardia had grown very fond of the elder woman. As the large structure loomed ahead, the tallest and nicest in the village, Kardia made a promise to herself that she’d never call it the manor, like her parents did.
Every Kingdom town had a Meeting Hall. Her family were merely the caretakers of Goia’s Hall, not lords of the whole town. If only she could help her parents see this. If Goia had a truly functioning Meeting Hall, perhaps the sorcerer would not be able to enter and claim her. Only one other thing was missing.
“How is the seed that I gave you, Miltie? Any luck getting it to sprout?”
Miltie nodded from beneath her heavy cloak. “It’s sprouted but remains very weak. If I can keep it alive during the winter, perhaps there will be a chance that it’ll begin to grow come the spring. Unfortunately, it’s not the sun and good soil that feeds a Healing Tree. It’s being in the midst of people dedicated to the Kingdom. We certainly have our work cut out for us, dear.”
Indeed, they did. Kardia refused to give up hope. And she certainly wouldn’t give up trying. Her life depended on getting Goia to return to its origins. Not only did she fear for herself, but if this Regent came and found out how they’d been trading with enemies of the Province, he’d drive everyone off his land. She’d not let that happen to Miltie and Mr. Tillus, or the precious children who continued to ask her for stories.
No, she’d not give up on her beloved town.
* * * *
Darnel rode away from the village of Goia. From what he could tell, not much had changed, except the Miller and his family had taken over the largest and finest home. Such greedy trolls. People were all the same, as far as he was concerned. More worried about their own comfort than anything else.
That stupid Miller had not even returned to the woods after realizing Fajer’s trickery to demand that his daughter with the kind heart and trusting eyes be released from the contract. Fajer had waited three days, as custom dictated.
Urging the horse to run faster, Darnel shook his head in disgust. They deserved whatever they got. But what about the girl? He’d seen her helping the elderly woman across the snow-covered common grounds. Even still, despite all that had happened to her, she showed kindness to her neighbors.
No, don’t think about her. If he refused to dwell on what Fajer would do with her, then he’d not have to suffer through his stomach twisting in on itself. Maybe when it came time for him to claim the Sano, Darnel would make himself scarce. He’d been curious about other wizarding orders, outside of the Brethren’s circle. He’d heard people talking of other sorcerer groups living in the ancient woods or south where the dragon’s homeland lay.
Maybe Fajer didn’t survive the battle for Tarest. Darnel’s thin lips quirked upward at the thought. He was divided. Part of him wanted desperately to learn. And he liked having someone to travel with. Yet, despite their agreement, Fajer still acted like the master and him the grunt to be ordered around.
Then there was the fact that despite Fajer speaking on his behalf, the Brethren were much too secretive for his taste.
The land began to rise as more and more rocky outcroppings slowed the horse’s progress. He had to search hard in the dimming daylight for the narrow ledge that would take him to the keep. Snow and ice made it hard to discern where he was, but he had to be close.
Surely there were other sorcerers or even witches, that wouldn’t mind taking him on, teaching him a few skills in trade for grunt work. There was a witch he spent a few months with at one time. She, like the Brethren, knew how to trap humans and sap them of their powerful giftings. Unfortunately, he also remembered that he’d not left on friendly terms. Actually, he’d left running and ducking from her hurled curses.
So long as he kept his true identity secret, he’d be fine.
A noise from the woods below caused Darnel to halt his horse and cast the blending charm. The pines were much too thick for him to see what was going on below their crowns, but he could feel the Logorian’s presence. Would they be able to sense him near, as the Elderad had done?
He continued on at a faster pace and decided it was worth spending the extra energy to remain invisible a while longer.
Another town lay on the border of the Mire Woods. Perhaps they were guarding Warton in fear that the Brethren would attempt to overtake it instead?
He wished he knew for sure what had happened to Tarest before
he reached the hidden mountain fortress.
If the Logorians suspected there was a cluster of wizards dwelling in the mountains so close to a Province, would they attack and drive everyone out?
Darnel did not wish to risk being captured and returned to Aloblase.
The mere fact that they were patrolling the woods told Darnel that the Brethren had lost their hold on the little town. Perhaps it was time to move on. Deep down, he hoped Fajer hadn’t survived. His caravan would offer something comfortable for Darnel to travel around in. The Sano girl would be free of her contract. He’d not claim her.
No, he wasn’t interested in feeding the gluttonous Brethren, though he was interested in learning more about sapping someone of their powers. Talents were what the White Tree people called it. Whatever the name, Darnel wanted more. He wanted to know how to control them. How to feed his own powers.
Were any of the Brethren left? Surely the Logorian warriors were on the hunt for escaped sorcerers. He’d need to avoid being spotted, or worse, followed. One thing was for sure, Darnel had no desire to camp out in the frigid cold tonight. He continued along the narrow ridge, keeping himself blended in with the rocky face of the mountain as he traveled along. Eventually, sounds from the search parties vanished.
He needed to grow his skills and increase his power and knowledge. Of course, his mother’s people wouldn’t be any help. There were other cities, though, with vast libraries. He still looked young enough to explain why he didn’t have a medallion. If he played the part of a human, perhaps he could fool them into allowing him access to their books. In the far north, there were cities not as dedicated to the light king as those in this vicinity.
His throat became parched from his thirst and water wouldn’t sooth it, either. Urging his horse to move faster, they climbed higher until reaching the edge of the final plateau that would take him to the secret entrance of the keep.
The horse, sensing it was close to home, headed straight for the stables where fresh hay and water awaited it. As they neared the spot where Fajer had parked the caravan, Darnel hopped off and allowed the horse to keep going. One of the attendants would take care of it.
He walked around the wagon, picturing in his mind where he’d go next. A light snow had begun to fall. He was actually relieved. A fresh blanket of snow would cover his tracks leading here. Though leaving sooner rather than later would be ideal, he’d have to wait for a clear day. He didn’t want to risk riding into a storm or taking a tumble off the cliffs because he couldn’t see in bad weather.
The new growth season was still several full moons away. He’d keep his ears open for any news about the scouts. From the normal activity going on around him, Darnel surmised that nobody else seemed too concerned about the intruders.
The scent of a meaty stew hit his nose, causing his stomach to growl. He’d not stopped to eat since leaving Goia. What few provisions he’d found in the horse’s pack weren’t enough to sustain a mouse. He moved around toward the back of the caravan, wanting to change and wash up before he hunted down someone willing to share a meal.
“You’re back,” said a female voice.
Darnel froze, realizing the stew came from his own pot which was being tended to by the elfin wench, Anwynn. “What are you doing here?”
Someone came up behind him and pounded his back. “Glad you made it through the scouts. Did you come upon them, my friend?” Fajer asked around the pipe sticking from the side of his mouth. “I told Anwynn that you were a cunning fellow who could take care of himself. I knew you’d return. Were you able to check on my town for me?”
Darnel recovered from his shock as quickly as possible. “Yes. Looks pretty much the same.” He pointed toward the elf. “What is she—?”
Fajer’s brow rose. “Anwynn told me that she’d worked out a deal with you. She offered her services in return for a mentor. Two, actually. You have a lot to offer our youngsters, as well, my friend. Did she not speak the truth?”
Anwynn slowly stood, sending Darnel a glare that said she’d follow through on her threat if necessary. Neither of them would be able to catch her before she ran inside and found the leaders. He could not allow the Brethren to find out the truth about him and hoped Riyah, that blasted Elderad, hadn’t given him away.
He’d been invisible at the time he ran. Nobody, except Anwynn, could have seen it was him Riyah called to.
“Yes, we did make a deal,” Darnel finally answered. “She promised to cook and clean in return for being allowed to travel with us. She even said that she doesn’t mind in the least sleeping outside. Even if it might be frigid and snowing. An elf can take it, right?”
She scowled.
“Well,” Fajer chuckled. “I’m sure we’ll work something out. Let’s eat, I’m starved and bet you are, too.”
Darnel wasn’t so hungry after all.
But Fajer ignored his hesitation and sat down beside their new grunt. Holding out his bowl, he allowed her to fill it for him. Smoke drifted up from his pipe, circling his head before being carried away in the breeze.
“We’re safe,” he went on. “I think we’ll winter here. Unfortunately, Tarest has been lost to us, for now. This new Regent…” Fajer puffed harder on his pipe. “I fear he’s nothing like his father. That doesn’t bode well for us. I may need to claim my Sano early. Did you see the girl? She is now bound to the town and will not be able to leave, so I’ll not have to worry about her escaping before she reaches her twentieth year. But…I fear what might happen once the Regent arrives.”
Anwynn’s nose wrinkled. “A Healer? What benefits will you obtain from a Sano, Master Fajer?” The way his name rolled off her tongue caused Darnel to feel queasy. She was a manipulator, and dangerous, as well, with her quick access to any weapon she wished for.
“Ah, well my dear Anwynn, since you asked—” he scooted a little closer, leaning his shoulder against her. “To be able to heal injuries without the aid of medicine? That is quite beneficial, especially to yourself. Just by the touch of her fingers, she can mend broken bones, cause the skin to grow back together. My spies have witnessed some of her little tricks. And it’s not only people she can work her skills on, but things, as well. Though we won’t be sure of the extent of her giftings until she comes of age. If I must claim her early, I hope to keep her with me for a while before we bring her back here.”
Fajer knocked the tobacco from his pipe, then set it down so he could dig into his meal. “Either way, we will remain here until the first thaw, then take a trip to Goia. After that…well, we might need to find a new refuge. I’m concerned about those head-hunters. I’m sure they’re under orders to unearth our fortress, but we are well concealed. All travel in and out will soon cease once the remaining escapees return. I’m glad you made it in when you did.”
Darnel slowly sat on the opposite side of Fajer and Anwynn. She filled a bowl and handed it to him, her eyes downcast. He’d not worry about her. What did he care, anyway? Whatever she got herself into was on her shoulders, not his.
But the green-eyed golden girl… that Sano girl, he did worry about. He’d not be able to stand it if Fajer wanted to keep her alive and travel around until she came into the fullness of her ability. No, he’d end up doing something stupid. Like helping her to escape.
Blast his heart. He tried so desperately to not care, to make it hard as stone, but every once in a while, someone— like his mother —would creep in and dance him around by his heartstrings like a mindless puppet.
No, he’d not allow it to happen.
He accepted the bowl. Despite his disgust, his stomach didn’t seem to care in the least about the precarious difficulty he was in.
“Both of you,” Fajer was saying as he slurped up his soup. “Keep your eyes and ears open, hear me? I know of a back passage if we need to flee. But for now, I’d say we are as safe here as anywhere. This is your chance, my friend, to seek some of the answers to your many questions.” Darnel watched him nod through the flickering flames. He
turned back to Anwynn with a sly grin as he bumped her once more with his shoulder. “Use this time wisely. You now have free access to the libraries here. Both of you. The Brethren are appreciative that you came to warn us of the Elderad.”
Should he warn Fajer of Anwynn’s little talent? Naw, he’d wait and see just how desperate the little elfin lass was to be part of their group. She might have her weapons, but Fajer had his own special powers, as well.
Fajer swabbed the bowl with a piece of bread. “That Elderad is a mighty being, indeed. He managed to break through the Master Mage’s defenses with the help of a couple of gifted ones. That is another reason we need to destroy all the special ones we learn about. Without them, it’ll be easier to take over the Province.”
Darnel’s spoon slipped from his fingers and hit the edge of the bowl before flipping over and landing in the dirt. Anwynn was quick to get up and fetch him a clean one.
“Is that the Brethren’s plan?” Darnel asked. “They think they’ll be able to take over Rodonal?”
“Where there’s a will, Darnel, my friend, there’s a way,” Fajer smirked.
Chapter Sixteen
A thin carpet of white covered the town of Tarest. Snows came a few times during the moon cycles but were often short-lived and only left a dusting on the trees and thatched rooftops lining the center road through the village. At least the weather didn’t hinder Leon’s efforts of organizing the restoration.
He’d appointed Elder Holand as the new Prior, but the humbled fellow refused to move into the refurbished Meeting Hall, opting instead for a tiny cottage still standing beside the larger building.
Compared to most other Meeting Halls Leon had seen during his tour, it was a modest abode, made of the white, glittering stones like all the other Halls and a wood-shingled roof. At least, once they’d scrubbed all the charred soot covering the stones, then they were able to put the building back into functioning order.
