The Ryn (Eyes of E'veria)

by Serena Chase

  The short visits I had with my mother each day, however, were all the encouragement I needed to stay the course and stretch my mind. But it seemed that the more my abilities developed, the faster her health declined. This was the cost of her blessing to me.

  Though my days were long, they passed in quick succession. I spent every morning with Celyse, refining my communication skills, occasionally surprising her with some of the things I had tried in the hours we were apart. Alternating my afternoons between reading the Story of Truth and discussing it with Edru and Lindsor, I also spent many hours with Jezmyn and Dyfnel, discussing the contents of the scrolls Erielle had discovered. When I finally got to read them for myself, I had to agree with Dyfnel. Apart from the promise of leading to the Remedy that would save my mother’s life, the poetry told an adventurous but complexly riddled story that captured the imagination.

  Our journey to find the Remedy would be both physically and mentally demanding. It was to that end that I endeavored, each morning when I rose, to perform the series of controlled movements I’d learned from Julien when he’d been recovering at the Bear’s Rest. And each night I paced the thick sands of Tirandov. As my endurance increased, I adjusted my routine to make it more difficult.

  My mind and body became stronger every day, but as our departure from Tirandov drew near, I couldn’t help but wonder: would it be enough? A growing sense of apprehension shaded every moment I studied and trained.

  I dreaded seeing an end to my daily visits with the Queen. We had grown close. Well, as close as two people can become after nearly twenty years apart and when only allowed brief daily visits. But my heart had bonded to hers, and that made knowing the Remedy was her one hope of survival quite a burden to bear.

  “Rynnaia.”

  I jumped as Lindsor’s voice snapped over the stone floor of the library as I was reading a copy of the translated scrolls.

  “Yes, Great-grandfather?”

  “How long have you been on this isle?”

  I did a rough calculation in my mind. “A little over a month, I think.” He should know. He had arrived shortly after me.

  “Has anything impeded the progress of your lessons with Celyse?”

  “Not that I know of.”

  “Exactly!” His scowl nearly doubled the wrinkles on his parchment skin. “From all reports, your lessons have progressed well beyond what was expected for your first visit to the isle. If that is so,” he paused to let the full shade of his disapproval sweep over me, “why, then, have you neglected to contact your father?”

  I tensed. “I’ve been busy with my studies, Great-grandfather.”

  “Too busy to afford a few moments peace to the King?”

  His stern tone communicated his disappointment in me as clearly as his thoughts. My eyes sought the floor. I bit my lower lip. “What if he . . . ?”

  How could I put my worries into words? There were so many ways I could disappoint a King.

  “Rynnaia.” Lindsor stepped closer and placed a gentle hand on my shoulder. “Have you considered that the King may be as nervous about your meeting as you are? Perhaps even more so?”

  The King? Nervous? No, I hadn’t considered that. But what if I’m not the princess he was hoping I would be? What if I am . . . a disappointment?

  “You are his daughter, first. Do not forget that.” Lindsor moved his hand to lift my chin. His blue eyes looked deeply into mine. “You’ve nearly completed your first reading of the The Story of the First, have you not?”

  I nodded.

  “Have you not yet learned the power of a father’s love? Your father’s love will overshadow any shortcomings, real or imagined, that you might have as a princess.”

  My fear was an irrational thing, I knew, but that didn’t make it less real. I grasped at anything I could to explain my delay.

  “But even the Story is clear that a father must be willing to sacrifice his child if duty commands it. If I fail to fulfill the prophecy, wouldn’t it be easier for the King if he did not know me?”

  “Let’s say you do fail.” The old man paced to the window and back. “Let’s say the Remedy remains hidden and Daithia dies.”

  I sucked in a breath.

  “If she dies, would you prefer that you had never met the Queen?”

  “Of course not! She’s my mother and—oh.”

  No argument Lindsor could present would be more damning than my own words. With a sigh, I closed the book. “If you will excuse me, Great-grandfather.” I stood. “The time has come for me to speak to the King.”

  Approval shimmered in his eyes. “May I walk with you?”

  “I would welcome your company.”

  We took our time making our way through the castle to the Silence room. I knew that I could be anywhere when I sought the King, but the quiet peace and dim glow of that particular room seemed to impart a special sort of solace that I hoped would ease the tension of our meeting. When we reached the door, Lindsor put both hands on my shoulders and looked in my eyes.

  “Your heart is expanding along with your mind and your abilities, child. Although truth is sometimes unnerving to confront, always at its core is Embral e’ Veria. The Limitless Power governed by Unerring Love.”

  “Embral e’ Veria,” I repeated. “That’s the first name listed in The Story of The First.”

  “Indeed.”

  Lindsor had recited the definition a bit differently than I remembered reading it, but his words held an element of wisdom that could not be argued.

  “Each bit of truth you have partaken has set free a part of you that you were unable to reach into before. You have accepted The Story of the First in your mind. You believe its history. But there is more. Much more.”

  “I doubt my brain can hold much more.”

  “Some things,” he smiled, “can only be understood when you come to the end of yourself.”

  His words did not exactly contain the encouragement I had hoped to receive in his company.

  “So what you’re telling me,” I couldn’t keep the irony from staining my words, “is that I will remain confused until I die?”

  “It’s not as bad as that, child.” He chuckled. “Although I must admit there is something to that statement! None of us will have a complete understanding until we have no more distractions.” He smiled down at me. “But that day is, I hope, a very long time away for you.” His expression turned serious again. “What I’m referring to now, however, is what comes when you discover that all of your abilities and gifts, all of the strength of your character, and all of the help you have been given from the hands of others, are simply not enough; and that you must surrender all that you are in hope of a help greater than what you can accomplish with your own strength.”

  “In other words,” I said, crossing my arms, “in order to understand truth I must become clueless, helpless, and alone.” I arched an eyebrow. “Why, Great-grandfather, you make it sound so appealing. I can hardly wait.”

  He chuckled, but his eyes grew moist. “Neither can I, child. Neither can I.”

  A sudden lump came to my throat, bringing with it a certain measure of longing—an acute awareness of that empty inner place I had ignored since the evening I’d recited the tale of the night sky for Julien.

  Lindsor gave me a gentle, lingering embrace. “Your father loves you, Rynnaia. But that, also, you will have to learn for yourself.” He pressed a kiss to the top of my head, turned, and walked back the way we had come.

  The Silence room was just as I’d left it. Settling into my favorite chaise, I pictured the face of the King as I remembered it from reading his letter at the Bear’s Rest. I was just about to call out to him when I paused.

  Would this be a convenient hour? He was, after all, the King. Presumably, he would be quite busy, with the war and whatnot. Maybe I shouldn’t . . .

  “You promised Lindsor,” I reminded myself.

  I took a shaky breath. “Father.”

  As if Salderyn was simply a step away
, I was immediately there. But, as I feared, it wasn’t a good time. He was not alone.

  Surrounded by men who bore the telltale knight’s beard, he stood at a table that was covered with scrolls—maps, from the look of them.

  Rynnaia. Without looking up, his rich voice spoke to my mind. Please wait.

  Of course, Father.

  At that, he did look up. A smile of pleasure lit his face as he began to roll up the map closest to him.

  “You’re dismissed,” he said to the knights. “We’ll continue this later.”

  The knights filed out of the room and the King moved to a chair.

  He closed his eyes just long enough to say my name, “Rynnaia.” And then he looked straight into my eyes. I confess I feared you’d never seek me out. Are you terribly angry for all of the deception?

  This was not at all how I expected our first conversation to begin.

  So that was what Lindsor had meant. The King thought I was avoiding him because I was angry.

  Not now. I was. Before. I bit my lip. For most of my life, if you want to know the truth.

  I do. He nodded. And I’m sorry, so very sorry that it had to be this way.

  I know. And suddenly, I did know. Finally speaking to him—seeing the sorrow in his heart—made it easy for me to forgive him.

  I’m sorry it took me so long to contact you. I was unsure of myself. I’m sorry if I caused you pain. There was a pause in which neither of us seemed to know how to continue.

  Thank you for sending Julien for me. I filled the awkward moment with something familiar and true. He has become . . . I reached for the smallest strand of gray and hoped he didn’t notice . . . a dear friend.

  I am glad to hear it. My fear evaporated as the colors of his love wrapped around me, bright and deep and true.

  At once fiercely protective and wondrously tender, the colors reminded me of the overwhelming emotions that had incapacitated me the night I read his parchment at the Bear’s Rest. Tears formed at the edges of my eyes.

  You surprised me that morning, Rynnaia. He saw the memory I had recalled. I had not expected to hear from you so soon.

  You were hiding something from me, weren’t you? I searched, but caught none of the swirls of gray, black, and gold that had caused me such discomfort that day. My mother. I realized.

  Yes. I was afraid the knowledge would put you in further danger. I’m sorry. I didn’t want you to know until you reached Tirandov. He paused. I understand you and your mother are growing quite close?

  You speak with her?

  Indeed. Grief clouded his answer. Not as often these days, I’m afraid. And more briefly, it seems, each time.

  It was the same for me, though in person. I’m sorry.

  We have no regrets.

  And yet it was the blessing given to me that continued to drain her health.

  You seem to have found a solid place within your great-grandfather’s heart, as well. Lindsor tells me you have quite a gift for . . . what did he call it? He chuckled. Oh yes. “Forceful diplomacy,” I believe, is how he termed it.

  I laughed out loud and he smiled at the sound. Not every Andoven counts among the friends of your heir. But they accept me, nonetheless.

  The King sighed. I’ve had much the same response these many years. But they are loyal, even when they disagree with the position of the crown. You will not find an enemy among the Andoven, he gave me a wry smile, but your patience may be tested by their stubborn hold on traditional bigotries.

  I grinned, finally feeling a connection to the stranger I called “Father.” I think you and I have much in common, Father. I look forward to meeting you soon.

  A look passed over his face that I could not gauge and he did not speak for a moment. When he did, I was surprised at the turn of the topic.

  Have you chosen the two Andoven you wish to join my knights in retrieving the Remedy?

  Yes. Dyfnel has agreed to accompany us. His familiarity with the scrolls will be invaluable and, should anyone need a physician, his knowledge will be appreciated. I also would like to take my teacher, Edru. He is just a young scribe, but I believe he has the heart of a knight. If we survive, he will be able to record our quest from firsthand experience and I believe he will serve our cause well.

  My father’s brow creased. You will not be going to retrieve the Remedy, Rynnaia. My knights will escort the two Andoven and you will take your place at Castle Rynwyk.

  So, Dyfnel had not yet shared the contents of the scrolls with the King. I sighed. Lady Anya’s prophecy was just the beginning. The scrolls confirm that I must go.

  No! A fierce, violent stubbornness radiated out from him. You will not.

  I took a deep breath. Something about his stubborn refusal wrapped itself around my heart, pulling it tightly and giving me the strength to defy the King.

  I wish it could be another way, Father, believe me. When you read the scrolls you will understand. I related to him my experience at Fyrlean Manor with Lady Anya’s poetry. I am the Ryn Naia spoken of in the prophecy. Even without the message from Anya, even without confirmation from the scrolls Erielle found in the Great Wood, my physical appearance and royal birth would confirm the path I must take. I cannot relinquish my duty to E’veria any more than you can ask me to as our King.

  The King was silent. A wealth of emotion played across his face as he fought to deny my claim.

  I had hoped that Gladiel and your mother had been wrong all these years. I should have known better. Your mother is rarely wrong. His smile was grieved. I’ve taken the liberty of picking a few valiant knights. I would rather send you with an army, but stealth will be a major factor in the success of your travel through Shireya. The knights I’ve chosen are among my best. They await you at Holiday Palace. As do I.

  He was in Port Dyn? I would see the King . . . my father . . . in person! Pleasure lit up my thoughts. I will not keep you waiting long.

  His smile warmed at my response. My knights have finally been told of you and of your mother’s survival and they are anxious to meet their Ryn.

  All our talk of the quest and knights brought something to mind that I’d been tossing around in my head but had yet to put into words. I paused to gather my courage. There is another person, one not of Andoven lineage, who I think would be an asset to the team.

  You are the Ryn, he said, as if my title gave an extra measure of credibility to my request. Perhaps it did. Even with the King. Who did you have in mind?

  I took a breath. Is Erielle de Gladiel still at Holiday Palace?

  Erielle? The King blinked. Clearly that was not a name he expected, but I rushed ahead, not wanting to give him the time to deny my request.

  I know she’s young, Father, but she’s as skilled and as brave as any knight. As a descendent of Lady Anya, she is better acquainted with the prophecy than anyone I know. Even though she wasn’t able to translate the scrolls, she is the one who found them, Father. And—

  Finally, I did pause, for what I had to say next was based not on fact, but on something much less defined. I can’t explain why, but I have the strange feeling Erielle will play a part, an essential part somehow, during our quest.

  The King’s lips pressed together. He didn’t look angry, but neither did he look pleased. What has Julien to say about this?

  I hadn’t exactly mentioned it to him yet. My silence said as much.

  I’ve already secured Gerrias de Gladiel for the team and Julien, of course, will lead the quest. He shook his head. To ask Lady Gladiel to send all three of her children into harm’s way while her husband remains missing seems cruel, don’t you think?

  I hadn’t thought of that. I scowled, trawling my mind for a solution that would allow Erielle to help us seek the Remedy. Would Gerrias be overly disappointed if he were to remain in Port Dyn?

  The King sat up straighter. You would have me send a young girl in place of one of my best knights? His gaze pierced mine. I don’t question Erielle’s bravery, and Gladiel saw to it that she
knows her way around a sword, but she is not a knight.

  I lifted my chin. Perhaps she should be.

  When the King crossed his arms I felt like a little girl, arguing to stay up past her bedtime.

  Why are you so intent on having the lass with you?

  I pondered my conviction a moment. His argument was entirely valid while mine was vague. I couldn’t explain why I felt so certain that Erielle should be included, but I couldn’t escape the urgency that it just felt . . . right.

  Much of the text in the scrolls has been written in riddles that we may only be able to solve when we come upon their answers. Men and women don’t always look at things in the same way. Erielle has a keen mind in addition to her ready sword. Beyond that, there are certain, more, um, delicate reasons. My words were colored by the same pink tinge as my cheeks. Reasons that would make another woman a welcome addition to our company.

  The King furrowed his brow. Surely, Rynnaia, there is an Andoven woman, someone older and wiser, who would better serve in that capacity than Gladiel’s daughter! Loyalty and concern for his missing knight added to his resolve. Erielle should go home to Mynissbyr.

  I determined to convince him. The Andoven are not encouraged to face hardship or danger, as you well know. I can think of many who would gladly join me, but none better equipped than Lady Anya’s own.

  A fresh wave of assurance calmed me, though I couldn’t fathom whence it came. I can’t explain how I know, Father, but I am confident, absolutely confident, that Erielle should come. I cannot promise that she or Gerrias or even Julien will be kept safe for their mother, but I do have news of Sir Gladiel that might bring Lady Gladiel a glimpse of hope. I relayed the information to him of the captured knights.

  His look was grave. I have recently received intelligence that you confirm. Be assured that every effort will be made to bring them safely back home.

  They believe they are being used as a trap to bait you toward Dwons, I cautioned.