Fletcher

by P. S. Power

  The older man smiled then.

  “Yes. This is… It seems rather more solid work than I would have expected. Expert, in fact. You must have spoken to almost everyone in the castle and cleared them, from the look of it? At least I’d hope you would lead with the name of the guilty on the first page, if you’d uncovered them?”

  Anders actually smiled back, meaning it, for all he felt tired and a bit awed to be in the presence of his leader.

  “Yes, Your Majesty. I would have been more insistent on the delivery as well. These papers are just a collection of information that largely shows who probably didn’t do it. It leaves a list, in the negative of who might be guilty. On the last page.”

  There were two lists there, to be truthful. Things that spoke for themselves, to his mind. The monarch shuffled to those and took a deep breath, clearly reading it all more than one time.

  “Very complete. I think I see some of your reasoning here from the notations… Master Tolan, since he could have lied about the timing of the release, making the rest of this information useless… Yourself because… It doesn’t say here. Why exactly would you place yourself on the second portion here?”

  That was the unlikely list. Made up of people that shouldn’t be ruled out simply for having proof they weren’t in the woods an hour before the meal. Anders let his face tighten a bit, feeling grim. Then, foolishly, he told the truth.

  “When I was ill some months back, Prince Alpert and my Mother pressed Master Franken to save me. It worked, using an ancient magic crystal. That… It didn’t contain healing magics. It was the imprint of a mind. Farad Ibn Istel. Placed there by Ganges the Great, a student of mine. I was a historian, not a magic user at all, and had taught him, Ganges, to hold stories and memories in his mind. He left, after ten years of practice to move on to magic, later becoming a horrible conqueror, I’ve been told. When I woke here I was able to use my trance skills, learned to hold tales in the halls of my mind, to ease the swelling in Anders’s, in my, brain. Saving us. We are both here. Mixed. I haven’t stolen his life. It’s shared now. Not a thing that I love.” The words were resigned.

  The young boy inside of him agreed that the truth was needed, even while truly feeling they were going to be put to death for the possession.

  Matheus took a deep breath as Prince Alpert… Nodded.

  “I knew of this, Father. Master Franken told me all of this the next day. Lyse as well. He felt that it was as good a thing as any we could have hoped for, since Anders would have died that night if not for the intervention. He believes that Anders lives on, as he just said here.”

  The rest of them looked a bit shocked, though no one started screaming for him to be put to death instantly. Farad went on.

  “The issue is not my good will. I’ve tried to live the life that Anders wishes, if with a bit more discipline than the boy had shown before. It’s his magical talent and desire to learn those skills, for instance. I merely made learning them faster, using the abilities of my old life. Much of the bravery that we’ve shown is his as well. Most of it, to be honest.” That was simply the truth. “The problem is that I do not know why I was placed here at this time. My place in the world, over fifteen hundred years past, was in the far south and east. Below Modroc, even. Where the current danger stems from. I do not think I am a danger to anyone. I simply do not know that I am in total control of myself. If that isn’t the case, then I must be suspect.”

  He gestured toward the written list, bowing again, since he had no clue what else to do.

  The King was silent for a very long time. When he spoke, his voice was gentle, compared to the screaming Anders expected from the man.

  “That is a good sign then. If you are willing to present yourself honestly to us at a time like this, you may not be the threat you fear. Still, we must watch for that. I note that Master Franken is on the list of those who had no verifiable tale for the correct time. Also, that he was the one with the magics that brought you into being. Is there a connection there, do you think?”

  Anders had no way of knowing. A knock came at the door, which when it was opened turned out to be Captain Ford, along with Master Belford. Both looked angry on a level that had the thinner of the two shaking with rage.

  Belford spoke first.

  “Master Tolan followed the traced to Master Franken’s chambers. There was gear for leather working and…” The normally erudite man simply froze in place, his jaw working. Tears came to his eyes as well.

  Captain Ford took a very deep breath then. His entire frame shuddered from the action.

  “In his room, Mother… She was dead. Sacrificed. Throat slit and heart cut out. Franken isn’t in the castle. I have the men out looking for him. Those we could spare from the defense here. I didn’t ask if that was allowed.”

  Anders, part of him, felt like his own heart had been ripped out.

  “Estella? That…” Tears came to his own eyes then, as the Captain nodded grimly. The King stood, rage upon his face.

  “I see. Find him then. Master Franken. I want him alive if possible. Then we will find out what he knows and make certain the legends of his suffering haunt the minds of all who would stand against us for generations to come. Go! You have the resources you need to carry this out boys. Everything.” A bit of spittle flew from his mouth in his rage.

  The King turned then and looked at Anders. The blood still in his eyes. He fully expected to be ordered to his death then. Instead the man nodded as Ford and Belford left the room, not speaking until the door was closed.

  “I’d set you on him as well, Master Brolly. You did name him on the short list of names, I noticed. We must hold you back, both for defense against further attack and in case, as you fear, you are being used as a pawn in some larger game. Please don’t take offense.” The words were polite in their usage and dark in their tone, anger still coursing through the man.

  Anders nodded, feeling forlorn. The old woman, older… without being ancient, had been close to being his own Mother, or perhaps grandmother, as far as the boy was concerned. When he’d skinned his knees playing as a child, it had been Estella who had cared for him. Not Lyse.

  When he lay dying not two months prior, it had been her hand that had soothed his brow through the dark night. Estella was the one sleepless, holding his metal cup for him.

  Farad was able to hold their will steady, not having really known the woman well at all. She’d been pleasant when they’d met. A few times only and mainly in passing. Still, he’d killed in battle so knew its way now and that kind of murder, of a person close to him in any way, wasn’t a thing he was willing to simply let go. Not even from a man who had seemed to be kindly in the past.

  “Understood. I’ll stand ready here, in case of attack.” Then he did just that. Standing, listening and trying to feel the world around him for any hint of magic.

  When that last finally came, Anders held his hands up, ready to make whoever was about to come through the door buzzing with power die, exploding, if it were an attack.

  Instead the face that came through was simply Master Tolan. The man seemed grim. Also, not in a deep trance at all, for all the power of it was still on him. The man bowed, going very low.

  “Master Franken used some form of magic that allowed him to flee. Headed toward Yanse. The trail… It’s incredible already. Stretching out as if he were on a horse for weeks, not less than two hours. I can see him, there in the distance. He nears the location of our own forces there. He may well have reached that and beyond already. The speed of his travel is vast beyond reckoning, Sire.”

  Thinking about it all, Anders had to suppress a nod. The whole thing made perfect sense to him, suddenly. The death needed to fuel that kind of magic, a travel spell of a kind that he hadn’t heard about except in the old stories, had clearly been why Estella had died.

  When he looked, it was there, inside of him. In the Sling’et Oth Moore there was a version of a thing that would have similar effects. The spell was vastly
complex and of a different type of magic than that Anders had been learning. It didn’t require a blood sacrifice, either. Just that the practitioner school their mind, will and magic for several days first.

  Depak Sona had mentioned that blood magic was powerful, if slow. Possibly not as slow as several days’ time needed for such a massive working. Regardless, the three tales he had within him that spoke of such things all agreed on one factor.

  “As soon as he stops, he’ll won’t be able to take to the road that way again. I doubt that he’ll be able to do any other magic for a time, either. Blood mage or not, doing that kind of thing will exhaust him. We can head out now, or at first light and track him down.” Anders let his voice sound confident then. Angry.

  Everyone else in the room looked at him, as if it was just a bit too strange for a boy to be saying such things. They were correct. Then, he’d already admitted that he was more than just Anders Brolly to many of them.

  King Matheus stopped moving for a bit, glanced at his wife, then second son. After that he stood, and bowed.

  “Very good, Farad Ibn Istel. I will give you leave to travel to where he stops. Bring him back if you can manage it. Kill him, if you can’t. What men and supplies will you need for this task?”

  The words were enough of a surprise that he had to stop and actually think about it for so long the others in the room started speaking around him. Finally, he let his head drop.

  “Master Tolan, since we won’t be able to track him otherwise. I’d save you the hard journey, if I could. It won’t be comfortable. I just don’t think I can learn your skills before morning. Captain Ford should come and those of his men who are willing to aid in this. We’ll need to travel hard and fast. Master Belford…” Anders was about to suggest they invite him along, since his Mother was murdered.

  The King simply went hard faced.

  “They will be requested. Master Tolan, are you willing? As spoken by Farad here, it will not be a light or easy journey.”

  Master Tolan nodded, then looked baffled.

  “I… Anders spoke, Sire. Who is Farad? A… title for him?”

  Prince Alpert shook his head.

  “It’s a long tale. I’ll explain in depth, if you wish. For now, we should call him Anders, I think, Father. To prevent confusion. If that works for you?” The look went to the boy then. The piercing blue eyes of the Prince seeming slightly strained.

  Anders simply nodded.

  “It’s how I think of myself, most of the time. As Anders Brolly. I need to make certain I have all my gear ready. I left it packed, in case it was needed.”

  There was a nod from the King, who closed his eyes.

  “You, both of you, have done much in the last days. This, hunting a betrayer, is a dark work. A thing I would spare both of you from, if we didn’t need your efforts in this. As it stands… Well, regardless, you will have what you need for this. Anything you ask for will be delivered. You may go, to see to your preparations. Master Tolan, a word first?”

  Dismissed, Anders moved directly back to his room, to find Master Belford standing in the hallway, being held by Lyse and Lady Martya. The man didn’t cry, though it was clear he was still in a deep rage. They all looked at him when he walked close to them. His Mother moved to hold him then, for a moment.

  “You heard? About Estella?” Her face was tracked with tears, makeup smearing and running down her cheeks in a combination of pale white and black. In places nothing shifted at all for some reason.

  “Yes. We ride out in the morning, to seek Franken. He used a blood magic spell to escape toward Yanse. Once that breaks, he’ll be incapacitated for some days, at a guess. It will be hard riding to reach him in time. You need to pack, Master Belford.”

  The other man simply nodded then, his jaw clenching in a way that seemed painful.

  “Because I have that language and such skills might be needed. I’ll make ready. Is it just you and I going?” The words were spoken as if they might be sneaking out to kill Master Franken themselves, alone.

  “No. We have your brother, those of his men who are willing and can be spared and Master Tolan, since he can actually track the man over these distances. Possibly some others, if they volunteer to come with us and can keep up on the ride.” Anders didn’t look at his Mother, or Lady Martya.

  The second woman took a breath then.

  “I’ll put the word about on that. When do you leave?” Her words were harder than Anders had ever heard from the woman. Filled with mettle and bravery, as if she was going to ride out with them herself. That…

  Anders wasn’t turning down aid, that day.

  “We leave as early as we can see the road. Out front of the castle. There will be no wagons with us, so anyone going should be ready for that. Light packs, weapons and armor. Some food. That’s all. If it can’t be carried on a single horse, we won’t be able to take it with us.”

  Being that harsh wasn’t really needed. He was still going to bring both of the horses he’d worked with before, if it was allowed. His words were about making certain they didn’t get too many angry, but soft or unskilled, people in with them.

  Looking ready to attack someone physically, Lady Martya marched off, down the hallway. Master Belford moved into his room, with Anders doing the same. Lyse, his Mother, followed him.

  “You’re still injured from the attack not two days ago. Can you make this kind of journey?” There was real concern in what she was saying.

  Which wasn’t out of place for a Mother. Then, from what Prince Alpert had said, she’d known of him, Farad, almost the entire time he’d been inside with Anders the boy.

  “I can, Mother. My magic is well suited to this kind of travel, since I can collect food and hunt from the saddle if need be. Make fire and cook as well. We can’t take a lot with us and move quickly. What we do take will mainly have to be for the horses. I’ve also seen combat, magical and martial. Not that I’m any great fighter. I should be most of the way to fine as to my wounds in a few weeks. Before that, it will be a hindrance. I’ll live.”

  Her lovely face ruined for the moment by grief, she nodded.

  “Then go, with my blessing, son. Be safe and let these others be the ones to strike the final blow. I know that you were close to Estella… I… Do you recall that, now?” The words were hesitant, almost shy.

  As if he wouldn’t get what she meant, or might become angry with her, for mentioning that he wasn’t only her son now.

  “All of it, Mother. Every moment of my life. I am still Anders Brolly, your child. Also, an old and crusty historian. I remember being cared for by her when I was a child. A time not long ago at all. Even when I was ill she came to tend to me, personally. Her death cannot be allowed to stand. I will be careful. As much as I can. We all will, if I have my say in this. We cannot allow this kind of thing to simply happen. Even past my own grief, I can see that. This is about more than mere vengeance as well. As long as this tool of the blood mage walks free, we will be easily targeted by our hidden enemy. Killing Franken will not stop that. It might slow things down and make them more difficult for a time.”

  Lyse touched his arm then.

  “I didn’t know… I did this to you. To both of you. I begged Master Franken to save you, at any cost. Alpert did as well. If not for that, you would not be in this situation now, Farad of Istel. Forgive me.”

  She bowed, which had him doing the familial version back. A move that had her face soften in the moment.

  “All things happen for a reason. Even if we can’t see why it has happened in the normal time frame of a man. You are no more to blame for this than Anders the boy, or Alpert the Prince. Even Ganges, I think, the Wizard of old, my student in that first life for a time, even he merely sought to do good. It was not my choice, being placed in that crystal. I had been content with the single, long, life that I’d been allotted. I still am. There is no anger. This is just another part of my path, I have to think.”

  The woman hugged him again, stil
l weeping. At both the loss of a cherished friend and perhaps her only child.

  “Thank you. You must prepare now… I’ll go and see that the word is spread, in case any here is willing to ride with you and the others in the morning. There will be more than who should go.”

  She moved off then, leaving Anders to go and pack his things. Repack them.

  He wasn’t lying about moving fast. One of the things he needed for the next day was a new magical word. One that would allow him to keep the horses fed, even as they rode into the night each day. Making that up and learning it, driving it into himself as completely as possible, was what he did before he dropped into a trance and slept that night.

  Moving in the morning would be much harder without sleep and at least one of the travelers going with them was going to need to be ready for the day.

  Chapter thirty-three

  There was fog in the early morning light. It wafted across the fields to the west of the castle, even though it was clearly going to be warm, later in the day. For the moment things were cool and moist upon the skin as Anders stood with both of the horses the King had lent him before. If there was a rule against taking them now, the man would have to find him on the road. That or wait for him to return.

  In truth, Anders Brolly knew that the King would never even be notified that they were missing. Not for almost a year, on the next Domes Day, when everything had to be accounted for. The two beasts, good horses both, if not war steads by any stretch of the imagination, would either be well and safely returned by then, or dead. If that happened, there was an even chance that he’d have joined them in the grave or being pecked at by crows until nothing was left but bones.

  On that cheery thought, the boy sat upon his horse, Chestnut, with Brownie tied up behind them, ready to ride off, as everyone else rode up to meet him. The group for that was larger than he would have suspected. For some reason, he’d figured that there would be four of them going, with the possibility of one or two of the Captain’s guards who were willing to go with them out of friendship for the man. Fellow feeling, at least.