“Hunter, Drummer, why—oh!” She stared at Muller. Then she shook herself and bowed. Warm light poured around her, silhouetting her body, though he could tell she had on a yellow dress, country style, with a flared skirt and fitted bodice. The lovely effect made him think of Chime.
“Please, come in, Your Highness,” she said.
Muller bowed. “You honor me, Mistress Headwind. Are your parents in?”
The woman dimpled just like Chime. “Such flattery.” She moved aside to let him enter. “My husband went to the cellar for some wine.”
Her husband? Mortified, Muller realized his mistake. “My apologies, ma’am. I mistook you for Chime’s sister.”
Her laugh was as melodic as sparkling water. “Hardly an insult, I assure you. I am Bell Headwind.”
“My honor at your acquaintance.” He gave her a formal nod and entered the house with Arkandy and Archer. The two boys came close on their heels, making no secret of their fascination with Muller and his warriors.
Drummer looked up at him, wide-eyed. “Do you know how to use a sword?”
Muller smiled. “Yes, I do.”
His eyes became very round. “Will you teach me?”
“Hush, Drummer,” Bell murmured. She ushered them into the front parlor, her skirts swirling around her legs. In the candlelight, Muller could see lines around her eyes and a trace of grey in her hair, but it did nothing to mute her grace. No wonder his wife had turned out so lovely.
“Ho!” Appleton strode into the room with two bottles. “Here you are!” He greeted them heartily, including Arkandy and Archer in his hospitality.
Bell bustled off to check supper, taking Drummer with her for help. The rest of them settled in chairs around the hearth. It was a comfortable house with unexpected amenities, including a clock on the mantel and a round glass window. Most shapes in the room were either exact or else too far off from pure form to awaken Muller’s gifts. The only problem was the fireplace, almost a rectangular box, close enough to tug his power. Fortunately the logs spilling out of it disrupted its shape enough to keep his spells quiescent. The absence of troublesome shapes relieved him; he would have hated to become “accident-prone” while he endeavored to impress his wife’s family.
As Appleton poured out wine into blue-glass goblets, Hunter flopped down in a chair, a youth on the awkward edge between boyhood and manhood. Muller remembered well that gangly phase of his life, all long arms and legs. In fact, he sometimes felt as if he had never grown out of it. Hunter would clearly fill out into a more muscular physique, tall and brawny like his father.
They talked stiffly at first, Appleton formal and Muller nervous. Gradually, as they drank their wine, they relaxed. Then Bell returned with Drummer in tow and bade them all come to the polished table, clearly reserved for special occasions, with blue-glass place settings and silverware. It appealed to Muller. Even just a year ago he might have disdained the settings compared to the china, crystal, and gold they used at Suncroft. Now he wondered that he could have been so narrow as to miss the beauty of a home like this. Its harmony made him feel welcome.
Almost as soon as they were seated and the meal set out, Drummer began to fidget. He spoke eagerly to Muller. “When will you show me how to use a sword?”
“We might eat first,” Muller suggested. The fragrant aromas distracted him.
Drummer lowered his voice. “You can learn me how to fight the night warriors.”
“Night warriors?” Muller asked, curious.
“They prowl the mountains.” The boy’s voice was full of portent.
Arkandy smiled at him. “What do these night warriors do while they are prowling?”
“March.” Drummer leaned toward him, his young face serious. “They march all day and night.”
“Where do they march to?” Muller asked.
Drummer blinked solemnly. “They are coming to take over Aronsdale and steal Chime.”
Steal Chime? The coincidence startled Muller.
“Oh, Drummer, don’t be stupid.” Hunter glared at him. “It’s bad enough you make up stories, but do they have to have Chime in them?”
“Boys,” their mother admonished. “Enough.”
“It’s not a story,” Drummer said.
“Oh, really.” Hunter leaned close to him. “And where did you see these terrible warriors who plan to take over the world?”
“Not the world, rockhead.” Drummer poked him in the arm. “They just want Aronsdale.”
Watching them, Muller felt a stab of loneliness. He wondered if they knew how lucky they were, having each other to fight with. He had longed all his life for a family. He would have given anything for a brother. It made him want his own children all the more. He thought of telling them all about the baby, but this didn’t feel like the right time.
Appleton picked up the thread of a conversation from before dinner. “So Chime continues her studies with the mage mistress?”
Muller nodded. “She works with Della in the mornings. She used to spend afternoons in the village, visiting the elderly or shopping at the market, but now she studies the government.” He thought it best not to mention why she no longer went to the village.
“Chime, studying government?” Hunter smirked. “Aronsdale is in real trouble now.”
Appleton frowned at him. “Do not speak of your sister in that tone.”
“I wasn’t making it up about the night warriors,” Drummer said.
“Boys!” Bell reddened, her gaze flicking to Muller.
“It is fine,” Muller said. “Really.”
Drummer fixed him with a firm gaze. “You will protect Chime from them, won’t you?”
The boy’s insistence disquieted Muller. “Why do you believe she is in danger?”
“Your Highness, please forgive the boy,” Appleton said. “I apologize for his tales.”
“No need to apologize,” Muller said. Drummer plucked a chord within him. He recognized Chime in the boy, certainly, but it went deeper than that resemblance.
“Does Chime do spells now?” Hunter asked.
“Beautiful spells,” Muller said. It wasn’t completely true; Chime was still learning. But she had made plenty of progress. “You should see her light a room.” His voice softened. “Actually she needs no spells to do that. Just herself.”
Bell and Appleton beamed at him. His last statements seemed to have put him in their good graces more than his other pleasantries. He wasn’t sure why, but he was glad they were warming toward him.
“It’s true about the night warriors,” Drummer stated.
“Enough,” Appleton said.
Bell gave Muller a wry look. “I hope this doesn’t put you off from having young ones of your own.”
“Not at all.” Muller wanted to know more about the night warriors, but he also couldn’t let this opening pass. “Actually we—” He was suddenly self-conscious. “That is, I mean—as it happens, the contrary will soon be true.” There. He had said it.
Bell blinked and Appleton squinted at him. Neither seemed to know how to respond, which made Muller suspect he hadn’t “said it” as clearly as he thought.
“The contrary?” Bell gave a hesitant smile. “I’m glad you like the boys.” Both Drummer and Hunter looked bewildered.
“Well, yes, I do.” Muller was growing embarrassed. “What I meant to say, rather clumsily, I’m afraid, is that you will soon have more young ones in the family.” His voice softened. “Chime is with child.”
“A babe?” Bell’s face lit up. “This is wonderful!”
“Ho!” Appleton grabbed the wine and poured out a glass for Muller, then for himself and Bell. “Well done, boy! Well done!” Realizing what he had said, he quickly added, “Your Highness, I mean.”
Muller laughed. “Please call me Muller.”
“A fine name.” Appleton took a hearty swallow of wine. “So! When does the babe come?”
“About eight months,” Muller said.
“Chime is going to
have a baby?” Hunter seemed only now to absorb the concept. “That’s strange. She won’t know what to do.”
His mother chuckled. “She will figure it out.”
“Chime can’t have a baby,” Drummer stated.
“Why not?” Muller asked.
“Because she’s my sister.”
“What, our sister can’t be a mother?” Hunter glared at him, though he seemed almost as disconcerted.
“You have to help her!” Drummer told Muller. “The night warriors will hurt her, just like they did her bird.”
Muller’s pulse surged. Her songbird?
“Drummer, you go too far,” his father said. “You will go to your room now.”
“No, wait, please.” Muller turned to the boy. “What do you know about your sister’s bird?”
“They killed it,” Drummer said.
“The night warriors?”
“Yes.”
A chill ran up Muller’s back. “But who are they?”
“They’re bad.” Drummer made a face. “And they’re coming to Aronsdale.”
Appleton gave Muller a look of apology. “I’ve no idea why he is saying this. We’ve seen no one.”
“Neither have we,” Muller said. “My unit has been all over this area.”
“They aren’t here,” Drummer said. “They’re north.”
“Sure.” Hunter snorted. “And you saw them just this morning, right? When you were up north.”
Drummer ignored him. “I dreamed it,” he told Muller.
Bell sighed. “Drummer, honey, you mustn’t mix your dreams up with real life.” To Muller, she said, “He doesn’t usually go on this way.”
“No need to apologize.” Muller spoke kindly to Drummer. “Have you ever been tested for mage power?”
The boy blinked. “No.”
“Mage power?” Hunter peered at his brother as if he might have odd protuberances sticking out of his head. “He doesn’t have any. Chime did, even if she pretended she didn’t. But not Drummer.”
“How can you tell?” Muller asked. As far as he knew, only another mage could detect such powers.
Hunter faltered. “I’m not sure.”
Muller glanced to Appleton and Bell. “Children often inherit the traits from their parents.”
Appleton laughed uneasily. “I’m no sorcerer.”
Bell started to speak, then stopped.
“Please,” Muller said. “Go ahead.”
She hesitated. “Sometimes it seems…perhaps I can make warmth. Or light. But nothing like Chime. Just a hint here and there.”
“Like your sons,” he said quietly.
“I’m no sorcerer,” Drummer stated, copying his father’s inflections perfectly.
Muller spoke with care. “Drummer, can you tell me what these night warriors look like?”
“Shadows.”
“Shadows, how?”
“Their hearts are like shadows. They are like Chime, but shadowy instead of light. She is good. They are bad.”
Everyone fell silent. Muller had little doubt what Drummer meant. Dark and light, the two sides of a mage’s power. Chime embodied the best of those gifts, healing and empathy. If what Drummer described was real, rather than a child’s nightmare, it chilled Muller. A year or two ago, he would have scoffed at the idea that a dark mage could bring an army. That was before Chime had touched the presence in Croft’s Vale.
“Why do you think they are in the north?” he asked.
“The mountains are big.” Drummer squirmed in his chair. “And black.”
“How big are the trees?” Muller asked. The northern forests varied a great deal, with towering giants in the western foothills, smaller trees in the midranges, and stunted vegetation in the highest peaks.
“No trees,” Drummer said.
Appleton looked from his son to Muller, comprehension in his expression. Only one mountain region had no trees: the pass from Harsdown to Aronsdale.
“Surely his dream is coincidence,” Appleton said.
Muller spoke quietly. “When my cousin’s parents died, I knew, though they were far from Suncroft. I dreamed it.”
Bell put her hand to her cheek. “You are a mage?”
Muller took care with his response, acutely aware of Arkandy and Archer listening. “I come from a family of mages. Even those of us without true gifts may experience an echo of power from our kin.”
Appleton leaned forward. “Could Harsdown actually be marching on Aronsdale?”
“Perhaps. We’ve seen nothing in the southwest. The Pentagons came west, too, but in the north.” Unlike him, they had no link to Chime. By touching the mind of the dark mage, she might have inadvertently set up a bond with him, one Drummer caught traces of in his dreams. If so, the boy could be giving him information unknown to anyone else. It might be nothing, just a boy’s dream. But the Tallwalk Pass was several days ride from the border; if Varqelle brought an army through there, it could be days before anyone in Aronsdale knew.
He nodded to Drummer. “I will think on what you have said. Thank you for letting me know.”
Drummer straightened. “Thank you, Your Highness.” He smirked at his brother. “Told you.”
While the brothers glared at each other, conversation among the adults drifted away from Harsdown. Bell and Appleton chatted with Arkandy and Archer, who were clearly enjoying themselves. Muller sat in silence, preoccupied. If Drummer really had picked up an invasion, the situation was more serious than anyone realized. And Chime might be in danger. He couldn’t make it back to Suncroft, though, before anyone coming over the Tallwalks reached Aronsdale. He ought to rendezvous with the Pentagons, who were about five days’ ride from here. He had no time to waste; an invading army could reach Aronsdale in that time.
And if he was wrong? He would look like an idiot.
He considered the consequences. If they rode north and found nothing, Jarid would question his judgment, maybe relieve him of command. If he didn’t go north and Harsdown had marched against Aronsdale, lives could be lost and villages destroyed, far more serious consequences than his looking stupid.
When viewed that way, the choice was obvious.
27
The Dark Dreaming
Muller strode though the camp, flanked by Arkandy and Archer. “We must go north as fast as possible. We’ll need enough field rations so we don’t have to hunt. And warm clothes. It’s colder up in the Tallwalks. But leave everything here that isn’t absolutely necessary.”
“I will speak with the other hexahedron-majors,” Arkandy said. “We should be ready to move within the hour.”
Muller nodded, too tense to say more. Clouds had covered the sky and the only light came from torches his men carried. He wished they had a mage, more than just for light, but as a healer, too. However, all their mages were at Suncroft. He didn’t bother to include himself.
He headed toward the edge of the camp—and was startled to see his father-in-law standing near the horses, with Drummer at his side.
Muller went to them, warming inside. “My greetings.”
Appleton and Drummer bowed. Then the father indicated his son. “He would like to tell you something, if he may.”
“Certainly.” Muller smiled, charmed by the boy’s earnest face and mop of wild curls. “It is good to see you, Drummer.”
The boy watched him with a gaze that, if Muller hadn’t known better, would have looked like hero worship. It made Muller ache inside; Jarid had looked at him that way when he had been six and Muller fourteen.
“I wanted to—to tell you.” Drummer stumbled over his words, rushing them. “To wish you luck. I know we all said farewells and all tonight, but I wanted to ’specially wish you well.”
A lump seemed to lodge in Muller’s throat. Somehow he spoke around it. “That means a great deal to me.”
The boy extended his hand. “This is for you.” A cord with a metal ring lay in his palm. “It gives me good luck. It will for you, too.”
“Y
ou honor me.” Taking the cord, Muller peered at the flat ring. It was too well formed to stir his magic power. The fitting had probably come off an apple picking machine. He slid the cord over his head, letting the ring hang down his chest. “I will treasure it.”
“You must bring it back,” Drummer said earnestly. “Safe and sound.”
Muller heard what he didn’t say; it wasn’t the charm he wanted to see returned safe and sound, but its wearer. He spoke gently. “I will. I promise.”
“Good.” Relief washed across Drummer’s face. “And you can tell Chime that—well, really, she’s not so bad.”
Muller grinned. “That is high praise from a brother.”
“I miss her a lot,” Drummer admitted. Quickly he added, “But don’t you dare tell her that.”
“Nary a word,” Muller promised.
Drummer gave him a shy smile. “Good night, Your Highness.”
“Good night, Master Drummer.”
Appleton spoke quietly. “Thank you.”
Muller nodded, grateful to have met them. He watched as they headed back to the village. These people, his wife’s kin, barely knew him, yet they welcomed him. During the past years, as he had assumed more responsibility and then met Chime, he had begun to feel more at ease with himself. He even looked forward to his life now. He just prayed it didn’t all end soon in battle.
That night, the Hexagon Unit headed north. They didn’t stop to rest until a few hours before dawn.
It was then that Muller had the first of the dark dreams.
“We must go!” Chime struck wildly at Aria, her mind fogged with sleep.
Her maid deflected the blows. “It will be all right,” she murmured. “You were having a nightmare, that be all.”
“No!” Chime came fully awake, sitting up in bed. “It was a message. Muller tried to reach me.”
“He can’t reach you across all the country, ma’am.”
“I dreamed he is dying. He begs me to come.” Chime clenched her fists in the covers. “I must go to the Tallwalk Mountains.”
“The Tallwalks are north, milady. Lord Muller is south.” Aria spoke calmly, as if it were a perfectly natural for a noblewoman to wake up suddenly and insist on riding off across the countryside in the middle of the night.