Teak and Jayson finished setting up the chairs and noted the organized chaos of the women laying out linens on the tables, arranging bouquets of tree cuttings, and laying plates and utensils for the soon-to-come feast.
“I think we’re in the way,” said Teak grinning.
Jayson took his arm. “You’ve got some time yet,” he said. “Come with me.”
They left the women to their tasks and made for the forest at a run. By the time they reached the first stream and were surrounded by trees and undergrowth, the sounds and scenes of the wedding preparations were far behind them.
They stopped running, and Teak bent over, hands braced on his knees, heaving for breath. “What are we doing here?” he asked with a laugh. “Dianis will think I’ve run off and jilted her at the altar.”
Jayson pulled off his boots and waded out into the icy water. The stones on the bottom were smooth and cold against the soles of his feet, and the rushing water relieved the aches in them.
“It’s just for a few minutes,” said Jayson. “Enough time to clear your head.”
“Do I need to clear my head?”
Jayson shrugged. “If not you, then me. I come here sometimes to get away, to have a moment to myself when I need it.”
Teak sat down on the bank and wrapped his arms around his knees. Jayson turned his back to his friend and listened to the gurgle of the stream, the air rustling through the trees.
“Am I doing the right thing?” asked Teak after a while. “I mean, I know I am, but—am I really?”
Jayson glanced over his shoulder. Teak had picked up a rock which he threw into the water with a weak splash.
“You’re doing the right thing,” Jayson said. “Dianis loves you. Her father trusts you. And besides, you need a woman to look after you, and to keep you out of trouble.”
Teak laughed. “I’m not so sure anyone is capable of keeping me out of trouble, including myself.”
Jayson waded back to the bank. “Maybe you need to keep her out of trouble. And soon there will be children to think about.”
An uncomfortable silence fell between them as Teak’s expression turned serious. “This isn’t about the wedding, is it?” he asked, digging his fingers into the mud.
Jayson said nothing but waited for Teak to continue.
“It’s not that you’re upset about what happened at Ralen-Arch. You’re angry that Dianis and the others went there without your permission.”
Jayson sat down beside his friend. “You’re partly right,” he said. “Dianis acted hastily. The situation could have ended badly.”
Teak nodded, but his lips were pressed tightly together. “But she did what she had to do, and it turned out to be the right thing. I know what you’re trying to tell me, Jayson. But Dianis is her own woman. I’m not going to try to change her.”
“It would be better for all of us to mind our own business.”
Teak glanced at Jayson, disappointment on his face. “But Dianis is right. We can’t ignore the Vatéz, Jayson. You know that. Look what Arik has done to us, to those families at Ralen-Arch and Alay-Crevar. If we do nothing, do you really think Arik will just give up and leave us alone?”
Teak got to his feet and brushed the moist dirt from his trousers. “I honestly don’t know how you can be so passive about this. You’ve seen the worst of it. How does that not give you nightmares?”
“Who says it doesn’t?” replied Jayson. “But if we start fighting Arik now, the violence will only escalate. And his men are better trained, better armed than we are. Those people on Ashlin, they’re farmers not soldiers, Teak. They may be Guardians in their blood, but when is the last time the Guardians actually fought for anything, let alone the Seer? The old traditions are dying. Here, they are safe. Their children are safe. Why not let them prosper?”
Teak picked up another rock and threw it, harder this time, into the stream. “How long will it last, Jayson?” he asked. “How long before reality—and the Vatéz—catch up to us?”
Through the trees, a man’s voice sounded in the distance.
“Jayson? Teak?”
It was Gerard, Dianis’s father.
“Get your asses back here!” he was shouting. “The ceremony’s about to begin!”
Jayson stood up. “You’d better hurry,” he told Teak. “You still need to change.”
Teak glanced down at his clothes, sodden with moist earth. “Right,” he said, and he was off, dodging through the trees. He called back. “See you in a minute!”
Jayson remained where he stood, the earth caressing his bare feet. He was tempted to stay here and miss the wedding altogether, but Dianis would never forgive him if he did. No, he would hurry home and change into clean clothes and would stand as a witness to their union. Then he would celebrate with the others long into the night. It was expected of him. He was the master of Ashlin, after all.
It didn’t matter that all the talk of marriage and love and families riddled him with an inconsolable grief that tonight he would do his best to keep to himself.
17
“You can’t make me go back.” Arla sat on the edge of the rather small bed in her room at the Noamish inn looking more stubborn than Brommel had ever seen any woman. He had come to tell her that in the morning he would accompany her back to Quendel, back to her family, but to his surprise, she would have none of it.
Brommel scratched at the stubble on his chin. “Your daughter needs you,” he said. “My conscience won’t allow me to separate you from her.”
“What about Lord Fredric?” replied Arla. “What about your obligation to him?”
“I’ll tell him I failed. The man I was hunting got away. It’s not the first time it’s happened.”
“You’d be lying.”
“Not the first time for that either.”
Arla took time to cross her arms as if using the deliberateness of her movements to prove her words. “I told you before, I have to go. I have to find Lady Ivanore.”
Brommel was getting frustrated now. What had gotten into this woman? “Listen to reason,” he said. “Ivanore’s gone or in hiding or something. If she wanted to be found, don’t you think that would have happened by now? And besides, how exactly are you going to be able to look for her when you’re deep in Fredric’s mine, hauling rock out of the bowels of the earth from sun up to sun down?”
“We discussed this before. You will help me,” said Arla, her words laced with such absolute confidence that they made Brommel almost believe it.
“I know. I know. I’m supposed to poke my nose into the Fortress library, pester that old curmudgeon, Prost, with questions. Maybe go off on little adventures all over the island in search of your missing princess.”
“And you’ll bring me word. Once my servitude is up in a few months, I’ll help you.”
“Help me? I’m not the one who needs to find her. I can care less about what happens to the woman. She’s not my princess.”
“But she is the wife of your friend, Jayson. And you owe him your and your son’s lives.”
Brommel pushed air out of his nose in a gruff snort. Like it or not, Arla had him. “What about your family?”
“They’ll be fine without me for a little while. I’m not saying it won’t be difficult for them or me, but it’s temporary. You and I will locate Ivanore, and then I’ll go home to Quendel.”
She looked so sure of herself sitting there, so certain that everything would work out the way she planned. How could she be so confident? Brommel had learned the hard way that life rarely turned out the way one hoped it would. Life’s journey was often fraught with disappointment and tragedy. And yet as he stared at Arla, who seemed to be constantly surprising him, he couldn’t help but wish everything she wanted would occur. If he could give Ivanore to her, hold the princess out on the palm of his hand, he would do it.
Brommel shook his head and snorted again. Arla had a husband whose job it was to provide for her. She didn’t need Brommel. And he didn’t need her
. He was beginning to dislike the way she was able to weave him into her plans.
He abruptly took a step back through the door into the hall, but banged the back of his head on the low jamb. A sharp pain spiked through his skull. He nearly cursed, but seeing Arla there watching him, he bit back the word on his tongue, which made him even angrier.
“No!” he half shouted into the room.
Arla glanced up at him in what was the first expression of surprise he’d seen on her face. “No?” she repeated.
Brommel rubbed his head and retreated further into the hall. “You heard me. No. I won’t take you to Dokur. In the morning, you’re going back to Quendel, princess or no princess.”
Arla’s surprise now turned to stubborn determination. “You promised you’d help me.”
He had promised, hadn’t he?
“I’ll keep my promise,” he said, “I’ll still do some hunting around for her.”
“But how will you get me word? You’ve said yourself that once winter sets in, Vrystal Canyon will be impassable for months.”
“I don’t know how I’ll contact you.” Brommel’s frustration levels were rising, and he could feel the heat burning in his face. “You’ll just have to wait until spring.”
“What if you don’t come back?”
“Then you’ll be no worse off than you are now!” Brommel had had enough. He reached for the door handle and slammed the door shut. The sound of it rattled off the walls and rolled down the hall like thunder. He thought for a moment that he might have broken it, or worse that Arla would open it and come after him with more demands. He stood facing the door for a moment, but when it remained closed, he satisfied himself with one last snort and then strode away.
He hadn’t even reached his own room before regret began to gnaw at him.
Later, he did his best to sleep, but the night was long and he was restless. He ended up spending most of the hours in the tavern staring into the cold hearth.
When Arla came downstairs in the morning, the two said nothing to each other. Arla moved past him and out the door. He followed her to the stables where a Noamish groom was hitching up Brommel’s ox to his wagon.
“This yours?” Arla asked Brommel.
“Yes, but—”
Arla climbed up and settled onto the bench.
“What do you think you’re doing?” asked Brommel. “We’re going back to Quendel, and we can’t take a wagon through the canyon.”
“I told you last night, I’m going to Dokur.”
Brommel shook his head and turned back for the tavern. He was in no mood to play the woman’s games today. Arla hesitated, then climbed down from the wagon.
Finally she sees reason, thought Brommel. But instead of joining him, she began walking away from him toward the road leading past Noam to the interior of the island.
Brommel again felt heat burning inside him.
“Come back here,” he called after her, but even as he said the words he knew it was useless.
She hollered over her shoulder, “I’m going to Dokur with or without you, Brommel. You might as well be the one who delivers me there and get your money’s worth.”
She was a bull-headed woman, and Brommel wondered how her husband had survived this long living in the same house with her. Cursing under his breath, Brommel tossed his pack into the wagon. Arla kept on walking, her figure growing smaller and smaller in the distance.
“Fool woman,” he muttered as he climbed up into the wagon and snapped the reins. “Never known a person so bent on anything, let alone working the mine.”
The ox began its tediously slow pace, now a good half a mile behind the woman. It took a while, but eventually he caught up to her. When he did, she didn’t even raise her eyes to him, but kept on walking as if he wasn’t there at all.
“For the Gods’ peace, would you get into the wagon?” Brommel said, his patience at an end. “I’ll take you to the mine. I’ll help you find the princess. And I’ll bring you home in the spring. Is that what you want?”
Arla abruptly stopped walking. Strands of her hair floated above her face in a subtle breeze. She seemed to be considering his offer, which was what they had first agreed to in Quendel. After a moment, she climbed into the wagon. She said nothing, but there was a hint of smugness on her lips that should have made Brommel feel irritated, but instead he returned her smirk, snapped the reins again, and rested his elbows on his knees for the long ride to Dokur.
18
Jayson sat under a pine tree and picked at a dried cone with the tip of his claw. He still wore the starched white shirt Nira had sewn for him for the wedding. The collar was stiff and irritated his neck. The celebration had been everything it was meant to be. Dianis looked radiant in her homespun gown embroidered with tiny glass beads they had purchased in Nauvet-Carum. When she looked at Teak, her eyes sparkled more than the beads, and Jayson could have sworn he spotted tears on her cheeks more than once.
The wedding was followed by hours of music and dancing and eating. Even after the sun had gone down and Teak and Dianis had left in the wagon for their honeymoon, the celebrating continued. But Jayson didn’t see the need to stick around after that. So he slipped away across the moonlit field and into the trees.
He had not returned when the sun rose in the morning, preferring instead to watch the sunlight waken through the branches overhead. He might stay there forever, he thought to himself. Maybe he would keep on going, see what else there was of the land. The Guardians might miss him for a while, maybe even send a search party, but then they’d eventually give up and get on with their lives.
But even as he considered this, he knew he wouldn’t abandon them. Teak and Dianis, and even Gerard, would never forgive him. He would just sit there under the tree a little while longer and then go back. The new irrigation ditch would be finished soon. Though they’d started late in the season, the wheat should be ready for harvest in little more than a moon cycle. Hopefully, the worst of winter would wait until then.
He closed his eyes as an infant ray of light found his face and warmed his skin. He loved the smell of sunlight.
Suddenly, the sound of someone running through the underbrush, their breathing fast and deep, touched Jayson’s senses. Whoever was approaching was still far off, so Jayson waited until a voice called out. “Jayson! Jayson, where are you?”
They’ve come after me already, he thought, grinning to himself.
“Here!” he shouted back.
Another minute passed before the man found him. Out of breath and a little wobbly, the man, Jayson realized, was one of the adolescents. Jayson had seen him working alongside his father at the ditch.
“What is it?” asked Jayson as the boy tried to catch his breath. “Have the bride and groom come home already? Got cold feet?”
After a few moments, the boy was able to respond. “I was sent to find you.”
Jayson sensed heightened emotions in the boy, but it wasn’t fear. The smell of fear was unmistakable. This was something else.
“They’ve found someone,” said the boy. “Gerard says come now.”
Found someone?
What was he talking about? No one ever came to Ashlin. It was so remote, not even within the boundaries of Hestoria. Perhaps they had discovered someone on the road, or maybe it was a beggar come to steal their provisions. Jayson’s curiosity was piqued. He stood and brushed off his trousers.
But the boy was impatient. “Hurry!” he said, then he turned and ran back the way he had come.
Jayson followed, and soon they were back on the farm, dashing across the field. Outside the big house, dozens of Guardians had gathered. There were no children, Jayson realized, as they were likely still in bed sleeping off the effects of the late night’s celebration.
As Jayson approached the front steps, the crowd parted. Eyes watched him, some warily as if wondering what his reaction would be. Others smiled at him, delighting in some secret. What was going on?
He opened the do
or to the house and stepped inside. Gerard alone stood by the fireplace, a troubled expression on his face. He looked up as Jayson came in.
“Thank the Gods they found you. I would have gone myself, but I’m not as spry as I once was.”
“What’s happened?” Jayson asked. He sniffed the air. Something was different. He smelled a combination of scents: earth, moisture, and—
He shook his head. His mind was playing tricks on him.
Gerard, as if reading his thoughts, nodded. “You’ll find her upstairs in your room,” he said. “One of the women discovered her lying in the road near the sign. I don’t know how long she’d been there. Hours? A day?”
Jayson needed no explanation. The leap in his heart was enough. He spun and flew up the stairs. Gerard called after him. “Be gentle, Jayson. She’s not in good shape.”
It took only seconds for Jayson to reach the landing, but he paused at his bedroom door. He could smell her now, no doubt about it. But it was impossible. How had she gotten to Ashlin?
He took a deep, uncertain breath then slowly pushed open the door.
She was lying on his bed, his quilt covering her to her bare shoulders, which he saw immediately were marked with fading bruises. Her face was turned to him, eyes closed. He took a step toward her, but Nira, who stood on the other side of the bed, raised a finger to her lips.
“She’s unconscious,” she whispered, laying a damp rag across the woman’s forehead. “Hasn’t woken since the men carried her in. She’s half starved and frozen. I cleaned her up as best I could, but she’ll have to do the recovering herself.”
Jayson nodded that he understood.
Nira studied him for a moment, as if deciding whether or not he was to be trusted. Then she moved toward the door.
“I’ll leave you alone for a while. Call me if she stirs.”
Jayson hardly noticed when the door shut behind him. He did not move for several moments, just stood taking in the form in the bed. How long had it been? Three years? Closer to four since he’d seen her last. But she looked exactly the same to him, just as beautiful as when he’d first seen her long ago.
The Crystal Keeper BoxSet Page 17