Firebrand

“I don’t know. I guess we’ll find out when they come back.”

  Estral brought him Karigan’s message satchel. It had a hole in it as if it had been punctured by an arrow. He frowned, then looked inside and found the letter he had written himself to be presented to the p’ehdrose, documents from Captain Treman, paper, a pen, ink, sealing wax, and the seal of the Green Riders. Using a pen and writing out a message made him feel more civilized than he had in months. He wrote Captain Treman first and told him to stay the River Unit’s approach, to hang back beneath the fringes of the Green Cloak and send forth only a few riders so that they could consult. He was free of Second Empire, he told Captain Treman, but there were other Sacoridians who were not.

  He then wrote a brief letter to Estora outlining the situation. When it came to signing the message, he hesitated. He could always sign it in some official way, but that would be rather cold. Still, he could not bring himself to assign a sentiment he did not, in his heart, feel. It was dishonest. What did he feel? Admiration, concern, fondness, respect, and something akin to love . . . Would expressing love actually be dishonest?

  He mulled it over and decided that she, being the intelligent woman she was, would detect any falsehood. He finally settled on, With deepest admiration and affection. It was not perfect, but it was honest.

  He did not have a royal seal, so he used the Green Rider seal for both.

  When Fiori appeared looking refreshed and scoured clean, Zachary explained about the messages.

  “I’d be happy to take them,” Fiori said. “I can leave tomorrow morning.”

  “I thought the gryphons might take them.”

  “Not sure they’re coming back.” Fiori squinted at the empty sky. “Saw them fly off early this morning. The way they circled and made a beeline south, it looked like they were leaving for good.”

  Zachary sighed. It was unfortunate to lose their winged messengers, but he had wondered about their reliability. “Then you shall be our courier, unless the gryphons return before morning.”

  Fiori bowed. “It is my honor. I’ll give Treman both messages, and one of his folk can convey the queen’s to Sacor City.”

  The message situation settled, Zachary decided to take a turn at the hot spring himself.

  “Take this with you,” Fiori said, handing him a pouch. “Some sort of Eletian lathering grains.”

  Zachary accepted the pouch and took along the woodsman’s knife he had lifted off the guard who had also supplied his buckskin attire. He followed the path through a patch of woods to where steam rose from the mossy, rock-rimmed pool. Enver had promised him the pool was warded and concealed from the enemy.

  Sinking into the hot spring proved not only restorative to his abused body, but now he could cleanse away his captivity. Nyssa might have had him doused with freezing bucketfuls of water, but that had been as her prisoner, and unpleasant. Now he could soak away both the physical and psychic soiling of his captivity.

  The cut across his chest stung at first, but soon his muscles began to unknot and relax, the toil and cares, the hardships, all fading away. Before long, however, he made use of the “lathering grains” Fiori had given him, and applied the knife.

  • • •

  Scoured and clean-shaven, he returned to the camp feeling more himself than he had in months, but for the buckskin he wore. He was greeted by Fiori at the fire.

  “I almost do not recognize you without whiskers, my lord,” Fiori said.

  Zachary smiled. It felt strange to have air caressing his bare cheeks. “It will grow back, but I felt a need to remove what was there.”

  As the day went on, he sat by the fire trying to relax. Nari soon joined him.

  “I will be leaving in the morning,” she said, “to resume my hunt for Slee. With winter melting away, Slee will dissipate and be more difficult to find.”

  Zachary wondered about the wisdom of hunting down the elemental and asked, “What will you do if you find it?”

  She turned her stormy gaze on him. He found it unsettling.

  “Slee already senses my wrath,” she said.

  Seeking vengeance seemed very unEletianlike to Zachary, but then he knew too little of the Eletians to offer judgment. He had known Nari long enough to be surprised, however, for she’d always been so calm and level. But then again, it was not always easy to discern what turbulence existed beneath the serene surface of a lake.

  “I also seek friends,” she said in a distracted voice, and then she drifted away.

  Friends? Zachary wondered. What friends?

  “Nari is one of the very old ones,” Enver told him as he watched after her, “and of another time. Most her age Sleep.”

  “She once told me she tended the grove by Castle Argenthyne.”

  “Yes, but much that she once knew has changed in the world while she was captive and away from her people. Much was lost. I believe she seeks not vengeance, not even justice.”

  “What, then?”

  “Completion.”

  “Completion?”

  “Yes, of her story.”

  That sounded so very final to Zachary.

  Enver gazed steadily at him and said, “Do not underestimate one such as Nari. If the aureas slee is wounded, as she suspects, then as one of the old ones, she is its match.”

  Zachary wished her well then, but was sorry that she’d be leaving them.

  Later, when Estral came to sit by the fire, he asked, “Now that you have found your father, will you be returning south?”

  “Not yet, Your Majesty.” She glanced toward Enver’s tent. “I feel responsible for what was done to Karigan. If I hadn’t . . .” She swallowed hard and shuddered as though to shake away bad memories. “I think I should stay to help her in what little way I can. I will return south when she does.”

  Zachary nodded. She had told him earlier how she and Karigan had been captured by Second Empire. Though Estral was not to blame for the cruelty Nyssa had inflicted, she would live with the guilt for her own part in Karigan’s capture and torture for a long time to come. Ironically, had she not run off into the Lone Forest in search of her father, Karigan might have never found him and Fiori in the keep, and the two of them could still be there enduring who-knew-what. However, he’d have endured anything if it meant sparing Karigan.

  In the night, Nari spelled Enver and sat with the Galadheon. The young woman slept peacefully, though Nari knew this was not usually the case. Even when she was away from the Galadheon, she could sense the dark turbulence of her dreams and memories, and not all of them were rooted in her recent experience with the Nyssa woman. She was haunted.

  Nari also detected a shimmer about her that was a mark of favor from her sister. It was the light of Laurelyn, the lingering phosphorescence of some ancient silver moon that had once shone over Argenthyne. The glow had faded, and it would continue to fade, but would not, she thought, extinguish entirely.

  Zachary had told her something of how Laurelyn had drawn the Galadheon to her to aid the Sleepers, and Enver had told her more. Laurelyn had always possessed the gift of seeing long and manipulating events to a purpose. But she had not been able to see all, certainly not Nari’s abduction by the aureas slee.

  Nari was certain her love, Hadwyr, had searched relentlessly for her, and Laurelyn had, too, but even Hadwyr, with his lore of the wild, and Laurelyn, with all her sight and power, had not been able to find her. It had taken the arrival of Zachary and the gryphons to liberate her.

  She considered the Galadheon, her wounded back, its rise and fall with each of her breaths. She’d adversaries, it was clear, and other entities used her, as Enver had put it, who were not necessarily her allies. The ability to cross thresholds, to walk the liminal line, was rare, and these others, even Nari’s sister, took advantage where they could: the god of death, the Mirari, her own people. The Galadheon’s adversaries would a
lso take advantage if they became aware of what she was able to do.

  I have not the power of my sister, nor am I a healer, but I am thankful to the Galadheon for what she has done for my people, especially those I once tended in the grove. It had taken courage and sacrifice.

  She decided to give the Galadheon a gift in return. Nari had her own journey to complete, and that which she had carried within during her captivity, that which had sustained her, was no longer needed. It would only end when she did. Better to pass it on as a gift.

  She laid her hand on the Galadheon’s head. The young woman’s eyelashes fluttered, but she did not awaken. Nari summoned the gift, her own piece of Argenthyne that she’d hidden deep inside, away from Slee’s prying, away from all those who’d been imprisoned with her. Even Enver had been unable, as far as she could tell, to detect it.

  It shone as an emerald glow about her hand, the essence of the living forest, which coalesced and melted into the Galadheon’s temple. It had sustained Nari in the cold, barren environs of the cave for all those years, and now, she hoped, it would sustain the Galadheon in need.

  Nari watched in satisfaction as her piece of Argenthyne bolstered Laurelyn’s mark of favor. Silver-green flared all around the Galadheon before finally fading.

  She had, she thought, given the gift well, for she sensed the Galadheon had a part to play not only in the preservation of her own realm, but also in the fate of the world.

  In the end, Nari did not feel emptiness as she thought she might. Only peace and satisfaction.

  AUREAS SLEE

  Slee had drifted to the arctic north after its fight with the gryphons. Wounded, it was a frosty haze that floated among the clouds. The milder weather of the changing season made it difficult for Slee to heal, to reconstitute itself, and it feared it would take another winter to do so, which meant a very long summer even in the arctic, and its revenge delayed.

  It drifted for an unknowable time, dreaming of vengeance. If the gryphons were anywhere to be found, they’d be frozen and broken. There was the girl who had thrown fire at it, and the Weapons who had forced it to leave without the Beautiful One. They would be dealt with, as well. It reserved its greatest fury for the Zachary, and revenge against him would also allow Slee to deal with the one who had cut off its arm the first time it sought the Beautiful One. Afterward, it would return to the castle and claim what was Slee’s.

  But first it must heal. When it did, it would be stronger than ever, and nothing would get in its way. Not even Narivanine, who, it sensed, sought her own vengeance.

  FIREBRAND

  The next morning, Nari was gone before Zachary awoke, and Fiori had ridden out on Coda with the messages not long after. He was still exhausted from his captivity and had slept hard, but he was restless, too, so he hiked out some distance from their camp to look upon the Lone Forest from afar. He kept low to the ground, should there be watchers, but little stirred on the rocky plain between him and the forest.

  He recalled something of a dream or notion that had told him to think, observe, protect. He could not recall the source of those words, but they had been wise, and he’d done his best to memorize what he could of the keep and its surroundings. Those memories would help in an offensive against Second Empire. They would have to overcome the traps set in the forest first, but the advance scouts of the River Unit could eliminate that threat. He was certain the keep would not stand up to a siege. Its walls were ruins, and Second Empire’s people mostly exposed. He would, of course, discuss strategy with Captain Treman and his officers to come up with a plan that would preserve the lives of his people while securing their freedom.

  How far had they gotten with the dig? he wondered as he stepped back through the wards of their campsite. Was it actually possible for Grandmother to break the seal and lure the avatar of Westrion?

  “Ah, Firebrand,” Enver said. “I was growing concerned and was about to go search for you.”

  “I took a look around,” Zachary replied. “Back toward the forest.”

  “Not too closely, I hope.”

  “Trust me, I did not dare.”

  There was a hint of a smile on Enver’s lips. “That is good. I do not think we would be able to mount another rescue.”

  “How is Karigan this morning?”

  “Still sleeping,” Enver replied. “Her dreams are quieter for the moment. Lady Estral sits with her now.” Zachary thought that was going to be all, but Enver said, “One moment, if you please.” He ducked into the tent and returned with Karigan’s longsword. “The Galadheon wished for me to give you this.”

  “She did?”

  Enver nodded. “She cannot use it until her back heals, so, as she says, you might as well have the use of it.”

  Zachary took it into his hands, the sword he had secretly given her when she obtained swordmastery.

  “I fear it will be some time before she can properly wield it again,” Enver said, “or any other sword.”

  “Her injuries—they’re that bad?”

  “Yes, Firebrand. It will take time and work for her to restrengthen that which was hurt. But to my thinking, the greater challenge may be overcoming what is in her mind.”

  “Is there anything I can do that will aid her?”

  “You are in a position to understand what can haunt the mind after one has been cruelly treated. Tortured. Use that understanding with her.”

  “I will,” Zachary said. “I would, that is, if she’d let me see her.”

  Enver glanced at the tent. “Seeing is not everything, and she is not surrounded by stone walls.”

  Now Enver did start to walk away, but Zachary called him back.

  “Yes, Firebrand?”

  “I want to thank you for all you have done. It has been beyond any duty required of you by Prince Jametari.”

  “It is not duty that compelled me. Would you not render aid were our roles reversed?”

  Zachary nodded. “Still, you have performed a great service for me and mine. If there is anything you wish of me, you need but name it.”

  Enver bowed his head. “It was not done for reward, and you are welcome all the same.”

  “There is one other thing . . .”

  Enver gazed at him curiously. “Yes?”

  “You and your people call me ‘Firebrand.’ I realize the firebrand, the burning torch, is one of Sacoridia’s sigils, but I still find it curious you should call me that.”

  “Yes, it is the symbol of the realm you lead, and you are the light-bearer of your people in a time of darkness. Not just the light, but the burning flame that is the spirit of a realm. Our own King Santanara called your first high king such.”

  King Jonaeus. Zachary shuddered with the weight of history. Did the Eletians expect too much of him? Jonaeus had not only been a warrior king fighting Mornhavon the Black for decades and, against all odds, leading Sacoridia to victory, but he was also a uniter. He brought the disparate Sacor Clans together to war against Mornhavon instead of one another, and helped form the alliance between Sacoridia, Rhovanny, and Eletia, and the other peoples who had stood against Mornhavon. Whatever the Eletians expected of Zachary, he was dedicated to leading his people to a peaceful existence so they might prosper, but it meant they’d have to weather dark times. A light in the darkness, Enver had said. He shook his head and watched after the Eletian, who strode along the path that led to the hot spring.

  Estral then appeared out of the tent shaking her head.

  “What’s wrong?” he asked.

  She dropped wearily to a rock beside him. “Your Green Rider is impatient to heal, and a bit angry. I think she’s been having really bad dreams, but she won’t talk to me about it.”

  He could see it was taking a toll on Estral. “Perhaps I can talk to her.”

  “Yes please. She will talk to you.”

  He wasn’t sure about that,
but he set the sword aside and made his way to the tent. Karigan had asked that he not enter, and though he sorely wished to, he honored her request. He sat beside the tent instead.

  “Karigan?” he asked. Met with silence, he continued, “How are you doing?”

  When she did not immediately answer, he thought she must be asleep. But then she did speak.

  “I’m tired. I just want to be my old self now.”

  He feared, after what Enver had said, that it would be a long road for her to be back to her old self. “You have been through an ordeal, and recovery will take some time.”

  The tent rippled between them and he was not sure if it was her sigh he heard, or the breeze against the silken wall that separated them.

  “I want you to be well, too,” he continued. “After my arrow wound, I felt the same as you. I was weak, tired, and, I’ll add, a most uncooperative patient, but the menders were right that I would once more be myself in time.”

  There was silence again from within the tent, as though she was considering his words. Then, “I’m—I’m sorry. I must sound like a whiny child.”

  “After what you’ve been through, you have every right to ‘whine.’ In fact, I encourage it. During my convalescence, I learned that it is best not to bottle up frustration. It just makes the healing take longer.”

  “It does?” she asked with a suspicious edge to her voice.

  He smiled to himself. “If your captain were here, she’d say I spoke truth.”

  “I think you must be making that up.”

  “I am your king. I do not make things up. I leave that to minstrels and politicians.” This elicited a surprised laugh from her, which made his smile broaden. “Estral says you’ve been having bad dreams.”

  She did not speak for a time, and when finally she did, she said, “Tell me a story.”

  Startled by the change of topic, he replied, “Wouldn’t Estral be better for telling stories?”

  “Estral has already told me stories.”

  “I’m not sure I can think of any.”