Journey of the Wanderer

by Shawna Thomas

  “What?” Ryliann glanced from the counselor to his father and back again.

  “I’ve just had a message from Arelo. It seems the Siobani attacked Isolden. It is in ruins. The king and his family are dead.”

  Ryliann was grateful for the chair. That didn’t make sense. They’d only recently learned the Siobani still existed. There were still some, mainly farther south, who still doubted. They assumed the new stories were as false as the old. But others spread word that Siobani had awoken from their slumber and sought to bring Anatar under their sway. The reports that they’d destroyed kingdoms in the far east had been confirmed again and again by the traders. Or rather, that the kingdoms had been destroyed. Who destroyed them changed with the telling. And as traders were wont to do, the stories grew with each telling as well.

  But Isolden was said to be the Siobani’s greatest ally. “Isolden and the Siobani fought together.”

  The counselor spoke, his voice soft. “That was the past, my dear prince. If the Siobani needed the aid of Isolden for a time, it would appear they do no longer. Isolden is—” his features fell as though weighed by sorrow, “—was occupied by humans. The Siobani are not human and do not tolerate us. We are all in danger.”

  Ryliann turned to his father. “How accurate is your information?”

  The king’s face reddened. “Now you’re questioning my intelligence?”

  “No, Father, simply the veracity of your spies. Do you know who spins these tales?” He glanced to the counselor.

  His father’s face reddened further.

  The counselor held up a hand. “It’s quite alright, Your Majesty. It is only well and good that your son takes an interest in matters of the kingdom. After all, he will be king one day. Perhaps he only wants to be ready to take over when the time comes.” The counselor’s mouth turned up at the corners. “I assure you, prince, my sources are quite sound. But one doesn’t reveal their sources or they lose them.”

  Ryliann blinked. Something about the counselor’s speech left him momentarily blank. As though he’d forgotten why he was there. “The banners.” He turned again to his father. “The Creeian host is sailing up your coastline.”

  “You’re exaggerating. They are still south of my territory.”

  “And approaching our border.” Ryliann shook his head. “We’ve always had an understanding with the liege lords of the south—”

  “Do they pay taxes? Do they bring me the bounty of their yield as a sign of loyalty?”

  “Ten percent, and we trade—”

  “Enough!” His father stood to his feet. His eyes blazed with anger.

  Ryliann hesitated. This was too important. He had to do something. “The Creeian barbarians rounded up the survivors, shoved them in a temple and burned them alive. Woman and children.”

  The king blinked but didn’t sit.

  “It is a sad thing, but the Creeians have always randomly attacked the coasts and then faded away back to their own lands,” Brishne said. “They are savages.”

  “They’ve raided and taken slaves, not this kind of destruction.” Ryliann shook his head. “It is said even the sea creatures fought against the wave riders.”

  The counselor smiled. “See, my king? That is proof enough that the tales have been exaggerated. Did you hear this from a trader, prince?”

  Anger blurred his vision. “No.”

  “Who did you hear it from?” the counselor asked.

  Ryliann stared at the man. He’d heard it from Trian. Together they were going to attempt to convince the king to take these raids seriously, and now the counselor was suddenly ill. His instincts now screamed to keep that information to himself. “So we do nothing?”

  Jaryn settled in his chair. “If I call in the banners, it will be to fortify our northern boundaries. When the Siobani attack, I will not be caught with my britches around my knees like the Isolden king. I will not divide my forces.”

  Ryliann ran a hand through his hair. “Why would the Siobani attack us?”

  “Why would they attack the people of Isolden?” the counselor countered. “You said yourself, legends speak that the kingdom of Isolden at one time was the Siobani’s greatest ally. If they show no mercy to their allies, what will they do to us?”

  Ryliann looked from the counselor to his father and shook his head. Words were useless here. He could gather his men and go to the wave rider’s defense himself. Was he ready to stand behind such an act of rebellion? Treason. He closed his eyes briefly. He needed to check on Trian. “If you would excuse me, Father,” Ryliann asked.

  Something shuddered in his father’s expression, but Jaryn waved his hand in dismissal.

  * * *

  King Jaryn leaned back in his chair. “It’s as you said, I fear.”

  The counselor moved to sit across from the king. “He is only hotheaded and stubborn. As I’m sure you were once.”

  Jaryn’s mouth moved in a wry smile.

  “And you came to the crown a lot earlier than Ryliann will.”

  Jaryn shrugged. “There is something about the weight of a crown that slows you down. Makes you think.”

  “Ah, but you see, I fear your son has too much time to think and his thoughts have turned to fanciful imaginings.”

  Jaryn stared out the window, but his eyes were unfocused. Bredych allowed himself a small smile.

  “You think he has an eye on the throne.” Jaryn’s features had aged, his skin slack and eyes without sparkle.

  “I think all sons do well to aspire to their father’s example. What has the prince to do but ride with his men?”

  “I have sent him to settle disputes among the lords. He has traveled south in the name of the king.”

  “Yes, valiant and well thought-out preparations for his time as king.” Bredych paused. “But from these he has learned the glory and power of a king, but not the harsh reality of ruling so many. Perhaps, Your Grace, he should get a taste of the sacrifices you’ve made. Due to your great wisdom, all he has seen of your station is the glory. He has never had the weight you bear on your shoulders daily. He has never known the burden of a king, of a ruler. Only the benefits.”

  “What are you saying?” The king brought his gaze back to Bredych.

  “Give him what he wants. Send him south.”

  “But you said the Creeians would flee.”

  “That is why it is safe to do so. I would not put your heir’s life in danger, My Grace, but perhaps he does need to learn a lesson about the cruel nature of men. It is not your fault that you subjugated all your enemies and ruled with such a firm and fair hand that he has grown up in a land of peace. It is not so in the south. The liege lords squabble, bicker and reach for more. He is rather old for it, but should he foster under one of these, perhaps he will better appreciate what he has here.”

  The king nodded slowly, and Bredych knew he had him.

  “And bring one of their sons here. It will further bind the lord to you.”

  “Which one?”

  Bredych smiled. “Lord Casiel has a son of age—a daughter too, I might add.”

  “Casiel?”

  “He is the new lord of Brest, the nephew of Lord Ambridge.”

  “What happened to Lord Ambridge?”

  “You didn’t hear? He died in a hunting accident. It was quite tragic.”

  Jaryn took a deep breath. “Send a message. I will have this done, and quickly. The crown rests heavy of late. I would like to trust my son.”

  Bredych smiled. “It is what I am for, My Grace. To help you to bear your burdens.”

  * * *

  Ilythra took the steps two at a time. She didn’t bother to admire the many paintings and tapestries along the arched hall, and the mosaics on the floor were a blur. The sweat cooled on her skin, and her nerves stretched
tight. The last time she’d seen Ewen, she’d left angry and frustrated. She’d said things she really didn’t mean and others that she had meant, but had let anger and frustration taint the words. She stopped in front of a large wooden door and took a deep breath.

  “Doed.”

  She swallowed and straightened her tunic. Long ago she’d forgone the dresses the Dawn Children women favored. She was more comfortable in leggings and a tunic. She’d never asked if the Dawn Children thought her strange; she’d always been something of an oddity to them anyway. But maybe she should have stopped by her rooms to clean up first.

  She grimaced. Ewen had never indicated he thought her dress or appearance odd. She was stalling.

  Ilythra opened the door and walked inside. The scent of candles and tea brushed her face. Ewen stood near the fire. His smile faltered as he stared at her.

  “You’ve heard about Isolden,” she said. It was a silly thing to say. They’d sent a bird as soon as they could.

  He nodded.

  She sank onto a couch and placed her face in her hands. Seeing her sorrow echoed in his face was too much. “What could we have done?”

  He sat across from her. “I have asked myself the same question countless times. Bredych was crafty.”

  She glanced up into Ewen’s green gaze. Anger burned the hopelessness away. “We can’t allow him to be more clever than us. We can’t continue to react. We must go on the offensive. You are in a war, Ewen, whether or not you choose to admit it.” She stood and paced near the fire. The warmth of the flames wafted across her skin with her movement. “It was a trap. We never had a chance. You were right. But what could we have done instead?”

  “That is useless speculation.”

  She whirled on him. “No, it isn’t. Because knowing what we should have done will help us to plan what to do next. I will not sit here and wait for the next blow.”

  “And you shouldn’t.”

  “I know you’re...” she trailed off. “What did you say?”

  “That you will not sit around here and wait for the next blow. Nor will the Dawn Children. You are right. We are thrust into war no matter what our next actions. I must act to preserve my race.”

  Ilythra sat down hard on a nearby chair. Pieces of the puzzle she hadn’t put together suddenly coalesced. “You manipulated me.”

  “I did not. But I did know you would go to Isolden. Nothing I said or didn’t say would have stopped you. I also knew it was a trap. So I helped in the only way I could. I sent word ahead to any volunteers who would defend Garmach.” He rubbed his forehead. “I did not imagine we would be so outmaneuvered. This act will rally the council behind us. I know it is not much, but some good did come from the fall of Garmach.”

  Ilythra rubbed her eyes, suddenly tired.

  “We still have allies in Isolden. I have already sent word that Elder envoys are on their way to rally the people together. We will defeat the Rugians and take back the land for Isolden.”

  “Yeah, about that. We might have some allies in Rugia.”

  Ewen raised an eyebrow.

  Ilythra quickly filled him in on her conversation with Ansgar.

  To her surprise, Ewen laughed. “Brilliant. Let us hope this Ansgar is much respected in his native land.”

  “Now what?” she asked.

  “Rest tonight. You’re leaving in the morning.”

  “Edriel?”

  “Yes,” he confirmed. “You and Arien will petition the king of Edriel and assure him of not only our loyalty but our innocence regarding the fall of Garmach. I have already sent word to every Elderborn city and those loyal to us who still dwell in human lands. The Dawn Children are truly awake, Ilythra. I only hope it is not for the last time.”

  * * *

  Bredych let the drapes fall back over the window, drowning the light. In the gloom, he moved to a table and stared at a small wooden box. The stone called to him. The song sang faintly along the winds of Teann. His fingers itched to open the box, slide the familiar necklace around his neck, revel in the surge of power that would course through his body. But he resisted.

  She was coming.

  The song of Ilydearta gained slowly in strength. She’d somehow escaped him in Isolden. His anger flared with that peculiar sense of pride. He shook both emotions off. Neither was profitable. All was in place here at Edriel, save one pesky problem who didn’t have the sense to die in a Creeian raid. The prince was proving a little too hale for his own good.

  It was only a matter of time.

  Bredych’s eyes closed. In the dark behind his lids, he saw flashing gray eyes. She would be coming as an envoy, perhaps with other Dawn Children. She would want to talk to the king. He grinned. He would savor the look in those gray eyes when she realized she’d walked into another trap. Soon she would discover that she had nowhere to turn but to him.

  He placed his hand over his chest where Crioch should have rested. He actually had her to thank for the idea of removing the stone. It was what she must have done to hide her presence from him in the valley of Greton. He’d only had to craft the metal-lined box to further dampen the stone’s song, rendering him invisible to Ewen or Ilythra, even when he was above ground. Of course, he had to wear it before he could use the power of the stone, but he’d found so many people who were easily manipulated without having to use Dominion that those times were few and far between.

  He opened his eyes and placed the box in a pocket near his heart. It was time to have a talk with the king, assure him how very dangerous and treasonous the Dawn Children were. Feed the seeds of fear he’d already planted.

  And then, when Ilythra walked through the gates expecting to find allies, she’d be sure to find a sword.

  Part Two

  “Our concern is not two hundred men, or even two hundred times two hundred men. Our concern is the will that drives them to our door. Not the pebble, my friends, but the hand that tosses it.” ~ Ewen

  Chapter Ten

  From this distance, the rushing waters of the Balayn River appeared like blue ribbons, twisting on themselves before they gave up the struggle and joined into a massive river rushing toward the sea. She stood on a hill, staring down on their destination. The scent of brine was faint but brought with it such a longing she had to blink back moisture from her eyes. The ocean. The Mother. She’d been raised with that roar in her ears. It had been so long since she’d gazed across the deep blue depths. Too long. A rush of homesickness assailed her. An ache for simpler times, for her grandfather.

  “You’re quiet.”

  Ilythra didn’t turn. Arien stood beside her, holding Melior’s bridle. The rest of the party camped a distance away. She’d wanted to look at the city. But from their height, the massive castle seemed like a small white dot on an island in the middle of a river. Thick foliage covered any view of the ocean.

  “Can you smell the ocean?” she asked.

  Arien closed his eyes. “Yes. I lived here once. We used to play in the waters as they carried us to the mouth of the river.”

  She knew Edriel had been built by the Dawn Children a long time ago. She hadn’t known Arien had lived there. She tried to imagine the healer playing as a child. That world was gone. Buried by time, greed and ignorance. A weight settled on her shoulders. As this time would be a memory if they didn’t do something. The winds of Teann were troubled, shifting, uneasy. Change was a part of life, but even change was regulated, came in seasons, cycles. Change without reason would destroy Anatar, at least Anatar as she knew it. She’d seen what Bredych could do. If he were to hold the reins, rule over all of Anatar, the change would definitely not be for the better.

  “Are you ready?”

  Ilythra watched the sunrise catch on the water, sharing its light and turning the river pink and gold. She faced Arien. “As I’m ever going
to be.” She took Melior’s reins from Arien and swung on to the stallion’s back.

  She and Arien would take only ten warriors with them into the city to petition the king. The rest of their party would stay in the hills and wait.

  Her heart sped. She wasn’t sure why she was so nervous. She shook her head. She was part of the first Elderborn diplomatic party to approach a human kingdom. They had no idea if they would be welcomed, scorned or chased out of town. The warriors left behind had strict instructions to wait only two days. If they had not heard from the diplomatic party, they were to return to Siann as quickly as possible.

  Melior followed Arien’s stallion with little instruction. Ilythra took a deep breath. Yes, that was enough cause for nerves.

  * * *

  The city rose in tiers from the cold granite rock. The pale, almost white, stone of the walls shone with a light of its own. At the pinnacle of the hill stood a castle like none she’d ever seen. The moment she glimpsed it, she knew it had been birthed by the Dawn Children. Graceful and elegant, the structure still gave the impression that long after the river dried, it would remain.

  They passed through gentle hills into an open plain. Farmlands, rich with waving green crops, peppered the land. The scent of brine and algae grew as they approached the river, and the farms grew closer together. Soon they passed villagers who raised their hands in greeting but then froze, eyes wide.

  The Dawn Children also stared, although less obviously so. She imagined it had been a long time since any of them had seen a human settlement, and for some, it was their first time. She almost wished Aimena could have accompanied them. Her friend was curious about everything human.

  The roar of the river could be heard long before they reached the first walled fortress. From a slight rise, she stared at the city’s defenses. It was easy to see why Edriel boasted they’d never been defeated in battle. The fortress protected the first of five short bridges spanning the river and leading to the castle. Each bridge stretched between heavily guarded islands. A walled fortress hid the beginning and end of each bridge. The bridges themselves arched over the river, swinging slightly in the breeze. Even from that distance, she could see people crossing. There were donkeys carrying burdens on their backs, but no horses or wagons. She shuddered, imagining crossing even one of the swaying bridges. She’d need to do it five times. In the best of conditions, there was no way an army could cross the bridge en masse. And a defender would only have to cut the ropes on one end to destroy any invader. The river rushed by at a frantic pace, white-capped and frenzied, as though it too was eager to be free of the lands and reunited with the Mother.