Sword of Storms

by Tara Brown

  “Of course.” She turned to the servant. “Take her to Brother Estevan. Try not to insult her further.”

  The servant lady bowed deeply. “Of course, Your Grace.” She hurried from the room. Lenny followed, smiling at the queen before she picked up her pace to catch the woman.

  She raced down the hallways, turning this way and that, weaving a maze Lenny never would have navigated without the help.

  They passed brothers along the way who ignored the women.

  The servant lady stopped, her breath rough and wheezy as she raised her hand to the massive wooden doors in front of them. She knocked several times, blasting a loud bang with each strike into the hallowed halls.

  It took long enough that Lenny wasn’t certain anyone would answer before the door opened, but it wasn’t Brother Estevan who stared at them with a confused glint in his eyes. It was a man Lenny didn’t know. A Brother. His focus darted from Lenny to the massive hounds on either side of her, bringing a smile to his face.

  “Brother Harlow, this is Ilenia Ailling. She wishes to see Brother Estevan,” the servant lady said with more humility than Lenny had heard her have. His response was strange. His eyes grew wide, matching the smile appearing on his face as if he were excited.

  “Of course, Miss Ailling, we are all excited to meet you. I am Brother Harlow, at your humblest service.”

  “Thank you, sir.” Lenny bowed back at the tall, older man.

  “Please, come in.” He stepped back and opened the door wider so she might enter.

  “Thank you as well,” Lenny offered the lady who snubbed her yet again as she spun on her heel and marched off.

  “Brother Estevan is this way.”

  He walked slowly across the room, turning down a long hallway also lined with shelves and books. “Wolfhounds?”

  “Yes. From the North. You speak as well then?” Lenny asked as she entered the large room. It was lined with shelves filled with books, bursting with them. They were stuffed in precariously, stacked atop one another. Some so high up they were well over Brother Harlow’s head.

  “I do. I have taken a year off from silence. A sabbatical to finish an important study on the history of magic in Dahleigh, focusing mainly on Crail and the mountain people there who have maintained knowledge in their culture that others seemed to have forgotten.”

  “My gran is from Crail. Eileen Ailling, though her maid’s name was Anshul. Eileen Anshul.”

  “Anshul?” he asked with a spike to his tone. “You certain?”

  “I am. My great-gran, Margie Anshul, came to visit us once. She was fascinating. Tall, had to be as tall as my father. But we didn’t call her great-gran, she was grandamma.” Lenny smiled recalling the feisty woman.

  “The Anshul descendants are one of the main focuses of this study. We didn’t know there was another daughter. Eileen.”

  Lenny shrugged. “Maybe ask my mother. She might know more.” She paused, wrinkling her nose. “No, ask my aunt Mildred. She’s staying in our suite with us. She knows everything.” Lenny rolled her eyes.

  “I see,” he spoke distantly, preoccupied with what she had told him. “Well, this is where I leave you. It was lovely to make your acquaintance, Miss Ailling.” He bowed and held a hand out to where Brother Estevan stood off to the side, poring over a large map by the flickering glow of many large candles.

  “Ah, Lenny!” Brother Estevan gasped. “Just the person I wanted to see. How propitious.” He hurried to her, pointing at the map.

  “I need your help first,” she said before he could interest her in whatever he wanted.

  “My help?”

  “Can I heal someone? With my”—she lowered her voice but wiggled her fingers as she spoke—“magical lightning hands?”

  He parted his withered lips but paused and tilted his head, making an odd face. “That I don’t know, though I don’t see why you wouldn’t be able to. Take a life, save a life,” he whispered after a second before turning and running off, robes fluttering behind him again.

  Certain this would be a lengthy wait, she sat in one of the large leather chairs, exhausted from the lack of sleep and distressing month she’d had. She’d suffered from nightmares since the night on the beach when Amaya and Wen changed. Mostly just one nightmare, the hallway and the man. It plagued her and she didn’t know why.

  Ollie got comfortable and Scar rested her head on Lenny’s leg, nuzzling in for love. She scratched the dog’s coarse coat, taking long blinks and yawning.

  Brother Estevan muttered something to himself, but Lenny could tell it wasn’t the eureka she was waiting for. She relaxed into the chair more as Scar curled into a ball at her feet. Lenny angled her head off to the side of the high back and closed her eyes.

  As she did, she was back in the strange hallway she’d never seen before. The massive windows, so tall they reached the high ceilings, lit the space with a vivid light. The sheer curtains billowed in the breeze coming in the windows, waving along the bottoms like they might be sweeping the stone floors.

  A voice spoke but she couldn’t understand what the person was saying.

  “Hello?” she called into the bright and breezy hallway. It was so long she couldn’t see the end, only that the windows appeared smaller the farther she looked. It seemed to go on forever. “Is someone here?”

  “Ilenia,” a man whispered. His voice seemed to ride the wind to her. “Come to me.”

  “Who are you?” she asked.

  “Come help me, Ilenia.”

  Something about the voice made her pause. It brought something to mind—bad luck. It was random and strange, but it was the first thought she had.

  Another sound caught Lenny’s ear. A whimper. She blinked but she remained in the hallway. She blinked again but nothing changed.

  The whimpering became louder and she spun in a circle trying to find Scar, the sound.

  “Scar?” Lenny said louder. The hallway became longer, the windows in the distance so tiny she couldn’t make them out clearly.

  The whimper echoed through the hall, joining the breeze. She turned again, not seeing the dog.

  “Scar?” Lenny called.

  “Lenny!” Brother Estevan shouted at her. His fingers bit into her arm. She glanced down, seeing them, blinked, and realized she was awake. “You were shouting. Are you all right?”

  “I fell asleep. I haven’t been sleeping well.” She yawned and sat up, cringing from where he’d grabbed her shoulder. It wasn’t healed completely, as well everyone yanking on it hadn’t made the healing go faster.

  “I found the answer.” He lifted a large leather book that had seen better days.

  “What answer?” She yawned again.

  “To the question of if you can heal. The answer seems to be yes. If you can kill and maim and take energy, you can also return it.” He placed the large book down on the table and flipped the pages delicately as if they might turn to dust in his very hands. “This suggests there was a healer named Morfa who worked in the North. He was famous for his healing ability. Some of his life is documented here.” Brother Estevan lowered his voice, “It was in the pile of books we had labeled as fiction.”

  “Fiction?” Lenny stood and walked to the table, noting how dizzy she felt. The image of the hallway plagued her. She knew it but couldn’t remember where it was, certain she had never seen it with her own eyes. But then whose?

  “Yes, we have seen no evidence of magic in Dahleigh these last centuries, and rarely hear of it apart from the stories some of the small villages have, legends if you will. Old wives’ tales handed down from generation to generation. No one placed a lot of stock in them.” He pointed to a page. “The story says that Morfa required balance. He could give light and healing and energy, but he had to take it from somewhere or someone. There had to be life in whatever he took from.”

  “Like from a plant?” Lenny eyed the flower in the pot and then her wounded dog.

  “Transference of energy is what he called it. Take life from o
ne to mend another. The cost of the magic.” Brother Estevan followed Lenny’s gaze, wincing when he saw the way she stared at his plant. “The plant ought to work but let me find a better plant to rob life from. That one is quite special.” He shuffled off, muttering about someone else’s plants needing to be sacrificed.

  Lenny stared down at the faded page with the drawing of Morfa with his hands up, light coming from them, green light. The man on the ground glowed with the green light and a bush next to Morfa’s hand withered. She felt bad for the bush, but the drawing showed a slice in the man’s abdomen with a series of images after it that depicted healing, the skin closing until there was no more wound.

  Her eyes darted back to Ollie who was asleep and then to her own hands. The scar of the gemstone was fading more and more every day. She swallowed hard and walked to the dog, crouching down next to him. He opened one bloodshot eye, staring dubiously as she unwrapped his leg from the sling. He twitched as if he might become upset, perhaps not trusting her since she let James set the leg.

  “It’s all right, boy. Let me see something.” She rubbed his leg gently, running her hand on there, not sure where to focus the energy.

  “This cactus belongs to Brother Aslan and no one is very fond of it or him,” Brother Estevan muttered, carrying back a large prickly looking plant. Lenny had never seen anything like it before. The skin was smooth and soft green and it had massive spikes coming out of it.

  He placed it down next to her. “You need to focus on drawing the life from the plant. Once you feel it flow, place your hands on Ollie and push that energy at him.” He sat in the leather chair and stared at her and the fleshy plant expectantly.

  Lenny nodded, not sure where to touch without getting stabbed. She managed one area, making contact with the cool, soft skin. She closed her eyes, lifting her fingers from Ollie and holding that hand in the air. She focused on the plant, feeling for anything.

  But there was nothing.

  She relaxed more, trying to feel the life force.

  But nothing.

  Her bottom started to ache from sitting on the floor and her head grew heavy with her eyes shut, but she forced herself to focus. As she was drifting off, something cool brushed against her hand. Her eyes fluttered from a need to sleep, letting the green light in. Between her lashes, she could see the soft light coming from the plant.

  She gently stroked the coolness, letting its thickness wash over her hand until it felt coated. She pulled but nothing happened.

  She tried to imagine sucking it in or it crawling up her but nothing changed.

  “Please,” she whispered to the plant and the green light brightened. She drew the energy in as if her skin inhaled it.

  Instinctively, she placed a hand on Ollie, exhaling the healing light into him. She grasped his leg, not hurting him but holding him still while she pulled from the plant and poured into Ollie.

  The exchange felt as though it took but a moment once she had it going. But by the time the plant was nothing but dust and Ollie was panting as though it were one of the bath days Lenny’s mother insisted on, the sun was gone and the sky was dark. Brother Estevan was asleep in the chair next to her.

  Lenny squeezed her hands into balls, cutting off the energy.

  Ollie sprung from the floor, gingerly stepping on the leg until he realized it didn’t hurt. He moved faster as he walked around in a circle, sniffing the dead cactus and whimpering with excitement.

  “It worked!” Lenny shouted, jumping up. She swayed slightly and Scar hurried to hold Lenny up. Her eyes fuzzed and for a second she thought she might faint.

  “Worked? What?” Brother Estevan opened his eyes, startled awake. “What?”

  Ollie rushed Lenny, pushing his head into her stomach. She scratched him, rubbing his back and ribs. “My boy!”

  He rubbed his head back and forth. Scar licked him.

  “He’s better!” Brother Estevan caught up. “Drat! I missed it. Fell asleep like an old fool.”

  “It’s dark. I think it’s been hours,” Lenny said, pointing at the windows along the very back of the room.

  “The cactus is drained!” Brother Estevan came closer to inspect the brown withered plant. “I’ve never seen anything like it.”

  “Me neither.” Lenny shook her head slowly, fighting fatigue. “Get Prince Landon and bring him to the yard. I’ll find a tree.” She turned and walked to the doors at the back that lead outside.

  “What?”

  “I’ll heal the prince and he can become king.”

  “Heal the prince?” Brother Estevan repeated as if in a trance. “Of course! You must heal the prince! Meet me in the yard to the right. There’s a grove.” He spun and rushed for the doors she had come in.

  Lenny leaned against Ollie and Scar as she made her way to the door. Her body was exhausted, but when she was outside under the moon and stars, she spotted a tree filled with fruit. She smiled seeing the apples, plucking one and taking a big bite. It wasn’t as sweet as the ones back home but she was starving.

  She followed the lanterns along the side of the sanctuary to the grove of strange-looking trees. She could make them out in the bright moonlight, choosing a fat tree with a healthy look to it. She ran her hands along it, asking as she had with Ollie and the unfortunate cactus, “Please?”

  The tree felt wrong.

  She moved on, doing the same until a spark of something told her to stay there.

  “Lenny!” Brother Estevan called her. “Come quickly!”

  She turned, seeing him in a doorway back in the main building, not far from where she had come outside. He waved at her frantically in the lantern light. She ran from the tree, unable to keep up with the hounds as they raced across the grass to the older man.

  “He’s not well enough to move, I’m afraid. You’ll have to do it in here,” his voice gave away his fear.

  “Right, but if we have no tree, what will we use?” Lenny asked.

  “I’ll worry about that. You worry about staying awake long enough to perform it. The prince has taken a turn for the worse and won’t last the night if you do not.” He hurried back inside, moving as he always did. She followed with the hounds at her side.

  The wide hallways were unsettling in the dark. Shadows cast from the candles and lanterns that lit their way.

  A group of guards stood outside the room, allowing Lenny and Brother Estevan to pass through the doors.

  A Silent Brother was there, his eyes glossy with despair when he turned and peered back at them.

  Prince Landon slept in the bed, appearing peaceful and sweet. His chest hardly rose at all when he inhaled and the gap between breaths seemed to stretch on forever.

  Lenny’s insides ached as she neared, scared she might not be able to save him with a plant or two. He was much sicker than Ollie had been, though they were nearly the same size.

  “Let her through, Georgie. She’s the girl, the one I told you about,” Brother Estevan insisted.

  Brother Georgie’s eyes darted from Lenny to the hounds as he stepped back for Lenny to come to the prince’s side. She took his hand in hers, feeling a spark of some sort.

  She winced but held on.

  He flinched too, opening his eyes. He smiled softly at Lenny. “Come to be with me at the end, Lenny? Even though I asked for no one to be told? I knew you were a rebel the moment I met you. And I’m glad you’ve come.” He wheezed his breath in, pausing as though to let the air sit there for a moment before speaking again, “I don’t think I want to die alone, as I requested.”

  “What happened?” Lenny asked.

  “I woke this way after my father died. Weak and sick.”

  “It’s been two days. How could you have faded this badly?” Lenny’s voice cracked.

  “Bad luck,” he whispered but he smiled.

  The words “bad luck” caught Lenny’s attention, piquing her interest. She had a strange inkling she knew what ailed him. “Get me something, a plant or a bunch of plants.”


  “Plants won’t work, Lenny. It has to be one of us.” Brother Estevan’s eyes darted to Brother Georgie. His lips quivered as he spoke, “Any of us would give our life for the young prince. We would be honored to do it.” He didn’t sound honored; he was devastated to ask his friend.

  “No!” Lenny shook her head, pulling away in horror.

  “It has to be.” Brother Estevan held a hand out for his friend. It was the next page of the book, the man dying of severe illness required a life for a life.”

  Brother Georgie nodded, not speaking. He smiled sweetly and stepped to Lenny, offering his hand to her. Brother Estevan hugged him, violently and swiftly and then pulled away, closing the door to ensure they were alone.

  Brother Georgie forced Lenny to hold his hand, taking hers when she wouldn’t take his.

  She recoiled but he squeezed, lifting her hand into the air and kissing the back.

  The prince wheezed, coughing, “What is he doing?”

  “Close your eyes, Prince Landon,” Lenny’s voice wavered as tears flooded her eyes. She stared into the eyes of the brother, seeing his devotion to the belief that this was his destiny. She knew he felt that way. She sensed it in him, in their skin contact.

  “What do you—mean?” Prince Landon asked through a watery breath.

  “I am here to help you. Close your eyes.” Lenny leaned in, squeezing his hand. “Trust me. Please.”

  He stared at her before closing his eyes.

  Lenny let go of him, focusing on the connection between them. It took less time to reach the cool sensation as if perhaps Brother Georgie understood how to give it to her. As she touched it, she knew things about him.

  He’d grown up in a different land to the east, a hard place where dragons flew in the skies and the weather was always hot. There were craggy rocks. It was Burning Havens.

  His mother had died and his father was always away.

  His gran raised him, though he called her by a different name. He was a curious boy, always helping animals and loving everything equally.

  When his father was murdered in front of him, he chose the life of the brothers, traveling to Dahleigh by foot.