by M D Baker
The clothes I found stuffed inside were so different from anything else in the closet that I had to wonder if they’d ever belonged to Valda. Although they were exquisitely made, I couldn’t imagine her wearing the relatively simple garments. Pulling out a plain, light gray dress revealed something hidden below—the dark green robes of a Battle Sorceress.
Although she was of an age to have fought in one of the previous conflicts, Valda had never spoken of it. Doubtless, she would have told me eventually, but our hurried parting left us little time to speak of such things. As terrible as our more recent defeat had been, it paled in comparison to the horrors of the prolonged wars that preceded it. Years of constant fighting had ravaged both nations, spilling over into the neighboring realms of Raska and Hamar during the worst of it. With her incredible power, Valda had likely been at the center of many pitched battles and witnessed more than her share of atrocities. Yet the woman hadn’t shown any hints of the trauma that must’ve remained deep within her, maintaining an air of calm even in the face of certain death.
Setting aside the green robes for the moment, I donned the gray dress and strapped my hidden blades beneath its wide skirts. Although I felt no real threats within the Keep’s walls, just like the night before, I wasn’t taking any chances. Tayson’s guarded warnings had taken root, and with a conspiracy beyond my comprehension hovering over our heads, discretion won out over any other factor.
Once I was dressed, and with the reassuring feel of steel pressing against my skin, I left my chambers behind and walked down the single flight of stairs to the level below. The familiar smell of old leather and worn parchment greeted me when I strode into the library, and I let my fingers wander over the spines of several volumes as I made my way to the broad reading table at the center of the room.
I didn’t know what I was looking for. Valda had already given me the only spellbooks the library had to offer, but the space held an appeal far beyond learning. It was the place where I’d found myself, even if I hadn’t realized it at the time. The events of the past several years all began with the thin brown tome Valda had left for me to discover, a cleverly laid trap I’d so easily fallen into.
For a while, I simply sat in one of the chairs, staring across the countless volumes neatly stacked on the shelves. Just being in the chamber seemed like more than enough; perusing the useless knowledge was a pointless endeavor.
After a time, it became too depressing to remain there any longer. The memories I had of the place were fond yet painful ones. Valda’s lessons and my own revelations belonged to the past, while my future was still uncertain. My brief pact with Cyndhar would come to an end soon enough, tossing me back into the seething pit of Farren’s politics. While the issue of my finances had been somewhat addressed through the short alliance, my position back home would remain tenuous, at best.
Although I knew I’d be back, I left the library behind, not to escape from my discomfort, but to be done with it for the day. Following the winding stairs to the ground level, I made my way outside into the afternoon sun.
The hectic commotion of the previous day was once again in full swing, with soldiers and civilians all busily tending to their various affairs—pointedly ignoring my presence among them. The ringing of the blacksmith’s hammer faded away as I left the crowds behind, finally coming to a stop at the low gates that surrounded the small cemetery in one of the Keep’s few quiet corners.
While I’d come this far with a sense of purpose, I found myself faltering as I hesitated to take the final steps. I’d known of my father’s death for years, but realizing that Valda was truly gone as well had come as a shock. She’d been the mother I’d never had, and even though her death was one of her own choosing, I missed her more than ever before. Virtually trapped in Cyndhar and caught in a web of conspiracy beyond my understanding, I needed her guidance, yet all I had were the cold stones marking her grave.
With a forlorn sigh, I crossed the boundary into the cemetery. The neat and orderly rows of granite showed signs of continued care, far from the state of neglect I’d expected to find. Searching for Valda’s resting place, I finally located it along the back edge of the grounds. The tombstone was far older than I expected, its original occupant having been laid to rest long ago, and I began reading the names etched on its weathered surface.
Countess Korrine of the Blackwood
I’d never visited my mother’s grave before—I had no reason to. By the time Valda told me who I really was, it was too late. Although I understood who she was and even felt her loss on some level, it was a distant pain; an ache with no real depth to it. The emptiness carved into those letters didn’t hold my attention for very long, and there was a sharper pang as my eyes drifted to the line below.
Count Aldon of the Blackwood
While my relationship to my father had also been kept hidden, I’d actually known the man, making his death a somewhat more personal tragedy. Though I’d only seen him as the distant Lord of the Keep, he’d shielded me from harm by sacrificing his love for the daughter he could never acknowledge. His pain was a sword with two edges, and I felt its keen bite as my fingers traced along the cold outlines of stone.
Countess Valda of the Blackwood
Reading her name brought the first tears to my eyes. Lady Valda was not of my blood, yet she was my mother in every true sense of the word. Hiding behind her false scorn, she too had kept me safe for many years until my talent had finally been revealed. She’d taught me more than just magic; Valda had brought a sense of belonging into my life. For what little it was worth, everything I had and everything I was, I owed to her love and patient tutelage. Glancing downward as I blinked away my sorrow, I scanned the fourth and final line.
Countess Amarrah of the Blackwood
A deathly pall fell over me when I discovered my own name inscribed on the stone. Thoughts of treachery and deceit wound through my mind as I rose in a hurry, planning to seek out Griff and make my escape before Tayson could dispose of me.
“I’m sorry you had to see that.” The Cyndhari Lord was already blocking my path. “It would’ve been easier if I told you first.”
“Get out of my way,” I replied, menacing him with the tendrils of electricity that were already dancing across my fingertips.
“It’s not like that, Countess.” He raised both hands—empty as he backed off a step.
“There was a great deal of confusion after the battle; when you couldn’t be located, we assumed you’d been lost,” Tayson explained, his voice both calm and placating. “Things being the way they were between our lands, I didn’t discover that you’d survived until several years later.”
It was a reasonable explanation, save for one glaring flaw. No one had heard of a ‘Countess Amarrah’ until after I’d reached Oldbridge and declared myself.
“That is a most convenient fiction, my Lord.” I took a bold step forward, preparing to put an end to him once I’d laid bare his deceit. “But how could you possibly know to look for me when I only discovered who I was that very day?”
“There was a spy,” Tayson hurried to reply, his eyes flying wide-open as he deciphered my intentions.
I didn’t need the help of any magic to recognize that he’d spoken truthfully. “Who?”
“I don’t know,” he answered in haste once again. “They should’ve come to me after my father’s death, but I’ve never received a single report.”
“You believe they perished in the battle?”
“It would seem so.” Tayson nodded as the apprehension began leeching out of him.
“If there’s anything else you’re hiding,” I prompted him, letting the blue arcs of energy flow between my twitching fingers. “You should probably tell me right now.”
“I’ve been nothing but honest with you from the start,” he answered my accusation. “But the years have erased some of the details from my mind, so I cannot say this will be our last uncomfortable discovery.”
I wished he weren’t so dam
n… reasonable. As much as I wanted to hate the man, he seemed intent on making it as difficult as possible. Tayson breathed out an unintended sigh of relief when the blue light faded away as I released the magic and offered him an apology. Of sorts.
“I’m trying, but trust will never be easy between us, my Lord,” I responded to his candor with a bit of my own. “Too much blood has been spilled to have any hope for that, but I will do my best to ask before assuming next time.”
“You’ve shown far more patience than I have any right to expect,” Tayson persisted in his frustrating courtesy.
I glanced around to ensure we were completely alone. “Perhaps now would be a good time for you to fill me in on the details of this conspiracy you’ve uncovered?”
Tayson paused as a look of uncertainty passed between his eyes before he began to speak. “My King—”
“Lady Amarrah!” He was interrupted almost instantly.
I turned to find the scar-faced sergeant Reynold rushing toward us. There was a desperation in the man’s voice that went beyond anything I’d ever heard—and I realized that only one thing could’ve provoked such dismay. With the cause of his distress so obvious, I didn’t spare a thought for our earlier conflict.
“Is it Abby or the baby?” I inquired, leaving Tayson behind as I hurried away beside the sergeant.
“Abby,” his reply came in halting spurts. “They can’t stop the bleeding.”
Chapter 15
Reynold shoved his way through the crowd between us and his home, clearing a path for me to follow as I tried to keep up with his frantic pace. Bursting through the front door, he led me to a small bedroom in the back, and I immediately noticed the crimson-soaked sheets that were rapidly wicking away Abby’s blood.
While a nursemaid tended to the newborn child in her arms, a midwife desperately attempted to staunch the flow, but her efforts seemed to do nothing at all, and Abby’s pale skin was quickly fading to a color that nearly matched the few remaining patches of white left on her bedding.
Curing the sick often depended on knowing precisely what was ailing them; applying the wrong magic could do more harm than good. Taking the time to make a careful diagnosis was just as important as casting the spell correctly, but with the cause so obvious, there was no need for any delay.
I took hold of Abby’s hand as I knelt at her bedside, an alarming coldness already beginning to set in. The contact helped me to direct the flow of magic, however, and I channeled the healing energy inside her. As the spell took hold, the fullness of her trauma became more apparent, and beads of sweat formed on my brow when I was forced to pour increasing amounts of energy into my efforts. Long minutes passed as I battled against the darkness seeking to drag her away until I finally managed to wrest her free of its grasp.
A faint hint of color blossomed on Abby’s cheeks when I rose to my feet, but as I smiled in relief, the room began spiraling around me. I’d spent too much of my own power in the healing, leaving me with no support. My knees buckled as I reached out to lean on the bedside table, but my hand found only empty air, and I fell to the floor when the heavy toll claimed me.
I woke sometime later, tucked beneath the covers of Valda’s bed once more. Shaking away my grogginess, I cautiously tested myself, gingerly stepping out of bed and taking a handful of tentative steps. It seemed that despite the mishap, I was no worse for wear, though there was a lingering sense of exhaustion that was to be expected in the wake of my carelessness.
“Can I get you anything, my Lady?” A timid voice echoed from the far corner.
“Some tea, please,” I replied, stilling both my surprise and unease at the sudden intrusion. “And perhaps a bite to eat, if you would.”
Although I didn’t regret overextending myself to save Abby’s life, as the young woman departed, I realized that the act came with several uncomfortable consequences. Being dragged back to my rooms and changed into my night clothes by a total stranger were the least of them. The knives I’d kept hidden beneath my skirts lay on the dresser at my bedside, leaving their presence no longer a secret. Worst of all was exposing my weakness and the limits of my power. Surrounded by potential enemies, it was a display I could ill-afford.
While waiting for her return, I wandered back to Valda’s closet, my confidence growing with every step. Digging out a second simple dress from the old drawer—this one light blue—I pulled it over my head before strapping the blades back in place. They might no longer serve as a surprise, but with my reserves nearly depleted, I found myself in need of the weapons more than ever.
The servant returned fairly quickly, setting out an impressive display of food as she poured a cup of tea. Despite my sense of caution, in my current condition, I had to trust that the meal was untainted—I couldn’t afford to cast Purify and test it myself.
“How long was I… out?” I ventured before she could take her leave again.
“A little over two hours, my Lady,” she replied. “If you’re feeling better, Lord Tayson has asked to see you.”
Ugh… I wasn’t looking forward to that.
“He’s been pacing outside the entire time,” she smirked as her voice dropped into a conspiratorial whisper.
Although I understood her implication, I knew the truth of the matter. With his supposedly ‘mighty’ Farren sorceress rendered helpless after casting a single healing spell, I could imagine Tayson’s distress. There was no way he could’ve comprehended the difficulty of the magic I’d been wielding, and he was probably already regretting his choice of ally.
“Please, send him in,” I replied, waiting until she turned around before slumping into my chair. I’d already given away too much; explaining what had occurred without disclosing even more of my secrets wasn’t going to be easy.
The door flew open only seconds after her departure, and Tayson crossed the room in a handful of broad strides. The look of dread on his face only confirmed my worst fears, so I tried my best to recover what little I could from the situation.
He spoke first, managing to hide his true concerns behind the inquiry. “Are you better, Countess?”
“I’m fine,” I half-lied. “More embarrassed than anything.”
“I promise you were treated with the utmost respect,” he replied to my unspoken discomfort. “Once we were certain of your… condition, only Rianne was permitted to remain here with you.”
“I fainted, nothing more,” I shot back, my pride bristling at Tayson’s delicate treatment.
He ignored my ruffled feathers. “You did far more than that. Abby survived because of you.”
“And the baby?”
“Both are doing well, I’m told,” Tayson soothed in response.
“Is there any news of the bandits?” Taking a sip of tea, I quickly changed the subject.
“Not yet,” he replied flatly.
“Don’t worry,” I reacted to his dismay. “I’ll be ready when the time comes.”
“You think that was my only concern?”
“No,” I replied, dismissing his false display of sympathy. “I’m sure you have many things on your mind.”
Tayson didn’t like having his hypocrisy called out, and a storminess clouded his features for a moment before he stomped out of the room. Regardless of his feelings, I’d signed a pact with the man, and I intended to see it through. While Abby’s near-death interrupted his disclosure of the supposed grand conspiracy, even without knowing the details, I wondered if it was beyond our ability to contend. Whatever lay behind it had been at work for many years—perhaps even longer than that. A plot of such depth wouldn’t be easily rooted out.
I felt much better after having a few bites to eat and finishing my tea. Although my energy was far from restored, I knew it’d recovered enough for me to risk leaving my chambers. The sooner I was seen walking about, the better. My safety depended on projecting an image of strength, not frailty.
Stepping into the hallway, I found Griff keeping watch, dutiful as always. With a slight nod,
he followed as I walked down the stairs to the level below, remaining outside and leaving me to my studies when I entered the library. I thought to simply sit at the table once more but found myself wandering through the shelves instead; the siren’s call of the books proved too alluring for me to resist.
Nearly every useful subject was covered by the volumes. Anything from politics to geography and the various histories of the more prominent families was revealed in those countless pages. Crossing the stacks was like traveling through time, all while accompanied by a helpful guide to explain each and every detail.
I’d browsed these shelves on many occasions, often selecting some book at random, and that day was no different. Seeking a diversion, I reached for the thick spine of a collection of classic literature when another caught my eye.
Alone among the leather-bound volumes, the tattered cloth cover of an old text stood out from the rest. The faded lettering gave no hint of its topic, yet I felt drawn to it somehow, the mystery of its discordant presence calling to me. Something within jostled loose when I freed it from the shelves, and the muted tumbling sensation vibrated up my arm as I held the worn tome in my hands.
Glancing at the door to ensure I was still alone, I pried the cover open to discover that the book had been hollowed out. Within the large cavity, a smaller yet far more ornate journal lay hidden inside. The dark green binding of the much thinner volume was dressed in silver leaf with a pair of initials embossed on its glossy cover.
K.B.
Korrine Blackwood.
Chapter 16
I’d never held anything of my mother’s before; the closest I’d ever come was standing over her tombstone only a short while ago. I paused before taking hold of the precious relic, understanding that it hadn’t been tucked away for some idle purpose. Although I didn’t know what that could be, it was clear this was more than a simple diary or note pad.