Daughter of the Wolf (Pathway of the Chosen Book 2)
Page 28
Rova nodded, reaching his hands toward one another until they were clasped together. The Headmaster did not look at Pietro as he spoke.
“We all walk our own path, even those trained here. But I would be delinquent in my duties if I did not remind you that the goal of a Healer Journey is to live and breathe the craft, with no purpose other than to help and to heal while doing no harm. I would not exclude you from traveling to Rexterra, but there are many between here and there that will be in need of your skill.”
With his voice high with passion, Pietro told Rova, “My oaths bind me as any other, Master! It is only that I look forward to my Healer Journey and the chance to test my skill beyond the gates of the Academy. When you believe that I am ready, only then will I seek to leave.”
“Then let us have this talk again in another moon, Pietro. Finish your courses, and I will discuss your request with the Master Council.”
It was enough, thought Pietro, knowing that Master Black had assured him that he would get the votes necessary for his approval. Soon, he would be away from the Academy, and there was no other direction that he would go but east. It had been too long since he had been home, and the King’s City was like no other place. With a well-practiced smile, Pietro turned to Master Rova, placing his unwrinkled and unmarked hand on the old man’s, squeezing gently before he rose from the bench.
“My thanks, Master,” he said, rising.
Forcing himself to walk slowly, for he still had at least a moon to go before it would be time to depart, Pietro followed the sandy trail back to his rooms.
*****
Above, the skies were gray, clouds covered the slice of Luna that remained, threatening rain. Yet, as they rode, their mounts stayed dry and the road clear. Caryss, silent and focused, rode ahead of the others, and, tethered at the rear of her horse was the mount that pulled the King’s wagon.
Aldric kept his horse just behind Caryss’s silver-maned gelding, following closely. A dark mood had come over the girl in the last few hours, he realized. He had only known her briefly before she was with child, but he did not doubt that the babe was who often occupied her thoughts. For a moment, Aldric thought of his nephew, wondering what the boy, who had long known Caryss, would say of the healer’s behavior, especially her decisions of late, none stranger than the last she made.
A moon before, he had boarded a ship out of the King’s City before the sun had fully risen, traveling to the Southern Cove Islands with few questions asked of Caryss. And, now, again, he found himself trailing behind her, watching as her unbound hair waved like a pennant, bright and red against the darkening sky. Yet, he knew that he would continue to follow, and he suspected the others would as well. Even Otieno.
Even as committed to her as he was, Aldric could not ignore her sullenness, and, riding up beside her, hurriedly asked, “What concerns you so that has slowed your pace?”
Without halting the gelding, she mumbled, “I hadn’t realized that I had let the horse slow. We are nearly there and should arrive within the hour.”
“Caryss, what is it that bothers you so?” he pressed, unsatisfied with her response.
With a sigh that he heard over the clomping of the hooves, she mumbled, “Herrin tried for years to kill the boy. Then he lost him and could not find him or Nicoline. What madness is it that I seek to bring the wolf to the lamb? A lamb that has been safe and unharmed for ten moon years.”
“What is it that you fear from the wolf? And what could the wolf really do without teeth and legs?” he asked, with a nod toward the King’s cart.
“He is recovering, Aldric. The poison leaves him more each day, and he requires much less poppy milk. Soon, he will need none at all.”
“You are a fine healer from all that I have been told, but even you cannot give the wolf his legs back.”
A slight smile caused the corners of her lips to twitch, and Caryss said, “A cunning wolf needs no legs at all.”
Nodding, Aldric suddenly understood.
With a lowered voice, he asked, “Who matters more?”
He waited for her to answer, pulling at the reins to steady his horse. Behind him, the others neared.
She did not look to him as she answered, “The girl needs an army not a king.”
A wise answer, he mused, watching her. She had learned much in the last few moons. Often, he knew, with wisdom came sadness. She was young yet to have to face such truths, but, for her, it was a necessary step.
“The king has given you his word that the boy will be unharmed, is it not so?” When she nodded, he told her, “If he breaks his word, then I will see that he pays. We do not need to speak on this again.”
Kicking at his mount, Aldric called, “Now let us go meet this boy.”
Nothing further was said, but her gelding trotted on, faster than before, catching up to him swiftly. Caryss stared ahead, shoulders raised and eyes clear.
As they rode, Aldric thought on the babe. Unlike her mother, she would be born with knowledge of the dark, a legacy of her father’s people born into her blood.
The group was far from any town, and the sky was nearly black, no light shining across the path they that rode. Behind him, Otieno, on the largest mount that Aldric could find, which still looked small beneath the large-chested Islander, kicked hard at his horse.
With a rolling accent, he called, “Night will be upon us soon, Caryss.”
Pulling on the well-worn leather reins, Caryss quickly stopped, jerking a bit forward, yet the darkness covered her near fall. Behind her, the King’s cart creaked to a halt.
“It has taken longer to find the boy than you believed, and I fear the truth of his location might have been kept from you. From all that you’ve said, you know little about magic. Trickery is often the other side of the coin when one uses mage-skill, leseda,” Otieno informed her.
Aldric watched with interest, knowing there was little love between the two. Otieno had long traveled a solitary path, and, now, following a young woman full of whim and emotion had been difficult for him, Aldric knew. The Islander spoke little of Caryss, yet Aldric needed no words to confirm his thoughts.
“Look to your left!” Caryss called, her voice loud and sharp as she pointed toward a twinkling orb of light. “See how the lights burn. He waits for us. Listen to the hum of the wind.”
Pausing for the others to listen, Caryss added, “He calls to us.”
She smiled, yet it was a smile without meaning, never touching her eyes. “You trust so little, Otieno,” she warned as her gray-green eyes fell upon him.
“And, you, my lady, fear too little.”
His words were not kind ones, and Aldric drew in his breath, pulling the leather reins tight against his chest as he looked toward Sharron. When the other healer gently shook her head, Aldric waited, his hands clenched, but flame-free.
Caryss’s next words cracked the silence open.
“Then between us, we fear just enough I would think.”
Gently kicking the side of the tall gelding, Caryss trotted off, then turned her long neck, and called, “Follow me. Around the next bend we will find the road to Jarek’s farm.”
In the end, she was not wrong. Before a quarter of an hour had past, the group was through the unlocked gate and upon an overgrown path that led to a small stone house. Just before the steps, Caryss halted, hastily jumping from her horse as if the house was aflame.
Silently, she hurried to the door, with no regard to those who stood surprised behind her. When she reached her hand to the door, Aldric saw that it shook. She is afraid, he thought, wondering if Otieno’s words had affected her so. Hurrying to join her, he stood just behind as she knocked, long and heavy.
It was not the boy who opened the thick, wood door.
“You have come to take my son.”
Her voice soft and smooth, Caryss told the woman, “I have heard much about you Nicoline.”
“Yet I know nothing of you,” the woman countered, her voice crackling and sharp.
Behind her, the door was closed.
“I can offer you no reassurance,” Caryss sighed, “Nor can I promise that the boy will be safe. I will not lie to you, Nicoline. I knew nothing of the boy until I met him at the palace. You, I know better, as Willem has told me of you.”
Aldric watched as recognition crossed Nicoline’s sun-browned face, her blue eyes like none he had seen before, glittering as if cut from the sea.
“I owe Willem much,” Nicoline finally answered, “But I do not owe him my son. You have come from the Academy? The boy did not know much about you.”
“Aye. I have spent half my life there and have known Willem for nearly all of it. He did not betray your location, Nicoline, and told me little of your son. I was sent from Tretoria to the King’s City on orders of the King’s Heir. Herrin was near death when I arrived. It was at the palace that I came upon your son, rather by chance.”
“You met the boy’s father then. Has he sent you here?” Nicoline asked, her words no less flinching.
Caryss hesitated, but did not take her eyes from the pale-haired woman. Finally, she spoke, but her words were hushed, although Aldric was near enough to hear.
“Crispin knows nothing of this. There is much I would tell you, Nicoline, but I fear you would be in some danger if I did so.”
“You seek to take my only son from me. That alone should warrant honesty between us, healer.”
Again, the words were like melting ice flowing from woman to woman. Aldric shifted, his knees cracking loud as he moved.
“As you wish then,” Caryss conceded. “Over a moon ago, I arrived in the King’s City, under disguise for none were to know that another healer was sought for the King. I later learned that it was Crispin who sent word requesting aid from the Master Council. My first time in the palace was a strange one, and it would not be untruthful to say that I was ill prepared for life in Rexterra. Jarek appeared to me that night, although none else saw him, not even the mage that travels with me.”
Caryss paused and looked toward Aldric who confirmed her words with a nod.
Then she continued, “Much later, after I had time to examine the King, and we were settled into our rooms, Crispin appeared at my door. I thought nothing of it, but the meeting soon became tense and strained. Perhaps he was only trying to frighten me or teach me the ways of the King’s Court, but it all became too much. I suspected that the King was being poisoned, most likely by someone close to him, and Crispin’s visit only further concerned me. Nicoline, I fled the palace that night, under mage-ward.”
With a raised hand, her palm facing Caryss, Nicoline stopped Caryss from continuing. “You need not further explain the King’s Court to me, for I lived under its shadow for moon years before escaping.”
Shaking her head quickly, Caryss pushed on. “There is more. Much more. Crispin would not leave my room that night, and I struck him. Not hard, but with enough force that his cheek required stitching. After I tended to him, I tricked him into drinking a tonic that put him to sleep, for a day or more, I would suspect.”
Aldric watched a slow smile cross Nicoline’s face. She was still a beautiful woman, pale-haired and blue-eyed, and with a power about her that made her even more intriguing. She was no whore’s daughter, he knew then, thinking back on what the King had told Caryss. Yet, she was no simple mage, either. As he watched the women, he thought long on where he had seen eyes like hers.
“Nicoline,” Caryss said, “I do not know what you know of the Academy, but we take vows as soon as we can, ones that we must live by or abandon the Healing Arts altogether. We had traveled long to visit the King, and I had no time to attempt a healing. And, if what I suspected had been true, it would be moons before improvement came. That night when we fled, I made a choice.”
He knew what would come next, what Caryss would admit. Stepping forward, he reached for her arm, pulling her back a step. Nicoline’s eyes were on him, mist-filled and ready.
Suddenly, Aldric understood who Nicoline was.
“You come from the east, past the Three Seas and the Eastern Sea, in lands north where few travel. I have met your kind once before.”
“I was born in a brothel to a Planusterran mother. I know nothing of my father,” Nicoline scoffed at him.
Her words were true ones, Aldric knew, but his own were true as well, and he told her, “The land is called Skavia, and the people tall and fierce, each one warrior-trained, even the women. Few are better with the spear and axe, Nicoline, than the Skavians. But it is not weapons that they are famed for.”
“Watch yourself, mage,” she warned.
Her eyes grayed, but still he pushed.
“Caryss,” he called, pulling at her again until she was behind him, “Did Willem tell you of Nicoline’s skill?”
Behind him, Caryss was silent.
“What of the boy? Does he have it as well?” Aldric asked, his words now edged and harsh.
“What is the meaning of this?” Caryss cried, trying to step around him.
Again he blocked her from moving near Nicoline.
Nicoline’s eyes were darker now, shaded with the blues of midnight.
“Get to the wagon,” he hissed at Caryss, pushing her back further.
His hands burned, hot and aching with a need for release. He heard Caryss stumble down the stairs, yet he did not take his eyes from Nicoline.
“This is not a game you will want to play, mage,” she growled.
Before he could answer, the door behind her flung open. A cropped-hair boy appeared, sky-eyed like his mother.
Without turning, Nicoline cried, “Get back inside, Jarek!”
As if he did not hear the warning, the boy rushed around his mother, out into the yard. When Aldric turned, he saw him run toward Caryss.
“I knew that you would come!” the boy screamed to her below the dark skies, his high voice shrieking against the rumbling skies.
Aldric ran from the porch until he was beside the boy. Throwing an orb-light between Caryss and Jarek, Aldric stepped closer, his eyes watching the boy’s gold-rimmed ones.
Her face pale and her eyes reflecting confusion, Caryss said nothing to the boy.
“Did you bring the Sword Prince?” he asked, with little regard for his mother who had neared.
The boy’s words were sweet and soft, and Aldric was not surprised to hear Caryss finally answer. “He is the big man atop the even bigger horse.”
As if by invitation, Otieno hopped from his horse and walked to the boy. He had been too far to hear much of the conversation, but he knew enough, Aldric concluded.
“We have traveled far to find you, Jarek,” the Islander told him.
“Is it true that you mean to take me with you?” Jarek haltingly asked.
Aldric could take no more and called, “Caryss, ask the boy if he can call the storms.”
“My son is no toy, mage, and this no game.”
“Ask him!” Aldric screamed, grabbing Nicoline’s arms, holding them to her sides so they could no longer be lifted.
With the woman pulled tight against him, Aldric again yelled for Caryss. Nicoline struggled, but he had spent moon years as a mercenary, and she was no match for him.
In a trembling voice, Caryss asked, “What does he mean, Jarek? Are you a storm-bringer?”
“Did my father tell you that? He has not seen what I can do. Not even my mother has.”
“Jarek! Enough!” Nicoline yelled, her words hot against Aldric’s cheek.
“He is a boy. Please, just let us be,” she whispered then, as if she knew she was now unmatched.
His hands cooled, but he did not release her. “You do not understand, Nicoline. There is so much that you do not understand,” he confided.
“Please,” she begged, her knees collapsing.
Ignoring he
r, he called to Caryss. When she came forward, her cheeks flushed and her eyes flashed.
“Aldric, let her go!” she screamed at him, spittle flying onto his cheeks.
In a lowered voice, he explained, “The boy is an Elemental. I know his kind. Have you heard the term, Caryss?”
Nicoline still fought against his hold, but he would not yet release her.
When she did not answer, Aldric scolded her. “You know so little of your history, and even less of the Tribe. There are few who can challenge them, but the Elementals are one such group who can succeed where so many others fail. They have no need for atraglacia, for their skill is enough. There are few Elementals in Cordisia, yet there abilities are well-known across the seas. There is no peace between Tribe and Elemental, Caryss. More, they have long been enemies, before Cordisia was even born.”
Caryss paled.
“You think he will harm the babe?”
In her words, Aldric heard much, and, to look upon her, he saw something akin to defeat.
With little choice, he explained, “For each Tribe, there is a counter-element, as Conri would know. For Wolf, it is storm. The Crows ride strong on the winds of their allies, Caryss, while the Wolf must take shelter or perish. Am I beginning to make sense to you?”
Looking past him, she addressed Nicoline, “Is what he says true?”
“I know little of my father and have not strayed from this place for nine moon years. I have no enemies but one. What is the meaning of this?”
To him, Caryss said, “I did not know.”
Her voice broke, and the words were nearly lost. Before he could speak, the boy appeared, with Otieno trailing behind, his hand on the hilt of his sword.
“Is it necessary to restrain the woman?” the diauxie asked.
As way of explanation, Aldric told him, “Her kind are enemy to the babe.”
“He is a no more than a child. Release the woman and let us work this through. None need to suffer here.”