Thornbear (Book 1)

by Michael G. Manning

  “I’m writing a letter to my father. I need some time alone,” she answered, though something about her tone rang false with him.

  He decided not to press her on the issue and together they rode slowly out of the forest. When they emerged again into the open field she paused, “You go ahead. It’s best if they don’t see us returning together. Tongues will wag.”

  “I don’t want to leave you alone,” said Gram. “What if there’s another hungry cat out there?”

  She smiled, “I’m on a horse. Even a starving panther wouldn’t chance that.”

  “Are you sure?”

  She gave him a fierce expression, “The entire world is my weapon, what have I to fear?”

  Gram frowned, it was the same phrase Cyhan had once told him. “Where did you hear that?”

  Alyssa’s eyes widened for a second before relaxing again, “It’s something my uncle used to say. Why?”

  “I just thought it was interesting. I’ll see you in the morning,” he replied.

  She nodded and they split up there, taking different paths toward the castle. They could still see each other for some time, and he waved at her frequently, but eventually distance and the rolling terrain occluded his sight of her.

  ***

  Morning came, but Alyssa was not at breakfast.

  He asked Moira about her absence.

  She looked at him as if he were mad. “She’s in Arundel, remember?”

  “No. What are you talking about?” Gram’s heart was beating faster.

  “You escorted her yesterday.”

  “No, Moira, I didn’t.” he replied in alarm.

  “I saw you ride out with her,” she insisted.

  “Why did you think she was going to Arundel?”

  “She told me so. She said Elaine invited her to stay with them for a week. Wait! Where are you going?!”

  Gram was running for the stables.

  There were no grooms present when he got there. They were still eating breakfast, but he didn’t need them to tell him that Alyssa’s horse wasn’t in its stall.

  “Dammit, no!” he cursed, before launching into a long line of invective. He went to the tack room while he swore, taking his saddle and carrying it to Pebble. He saddled her, continuing to curse, though eventually he stopped. The mare could sense his agitation.

  He rode out without a word to anyone, ignoring the friendly call from one of the gate guards. Pebble could sense his urgency and she picked a fast pace, cantering down the street through Washbrook. Once they had passed beyond the town gate he nudged her sides and she broke into a gallop.

  Together, man and horse raced through the open countryside until he found the last place he was sure he had seen her, before she had passed from view. Dismounting, he began to search the area, while Pebble blew loudly, trying to recover her wind. He led the mare behind him while he searched.

  The ground was soft, but he found no tracks. Forcing himself to be calm, he left Pebble and began to move in slow circles, working his way outward until at last he spotted a faint half circle impression. There. He went back to Pebble, and taking her reins in hand, walked with her to the spot.

  He stood there for a while, letting his eyes take in the scenery, trying to get a feel for it. Following a half-day old trace through an open field wouldn’t be easy, even when it involved something as heavy as a horse. He found several more tracks before the ground became too hard to have taken a good print.

  From there it was half intuition and half experience. Look for what isn’t there. In places the grass was bent, but he could never be completely sure it wasn’t something else that had caused it. He pushed his doubts aside and kept pressing on. At one point he lost sight of any trace of her, but he came to a small stream shortly after. Walking along one side of it, he eventually found the place they had crossed, where deep hoof prints scored the thick mud.

  He crossed there and picked up the trail on the other side, but it didn’t become any easier after that. He struggled with his patience, knowing that haste would cause him to lose any hope of following her, but all the while in the back of his mind, he knew she was moving ever farther away. He couldn’t possibly track her as quickly as she would be moving, even if she chose a casual pace.

  The day wore on, but he refused to give up. The horse’s path led him into the valley, leaving the road behind and meandering into the lush grass that sloped gently down toward the Glenmae River. Her course made little sense. It didn’t lead toward Arundel or Lancaster. In places it circled and it appeared as though the horse had stopped for long periods.

  It was late afternoon when he spotted the horse. It was walking slowly, moving in his direction.

  Alyssa was nowhere to be seen.

  She abandoned the horse.

  Despair seized his heart. At some point she had separated from the animal, leaving it to create a false trail for her. “Probably when she crossed the road,” he said to himself. Her light feet would have left little sign there, and the horse would have been tempted by the thick grass leading to the river. Otherwise it might have turned back for home sooner, possibly giving her away or raising an alarm when it returned rider-less.

  Ignoring the horse he mounted Pebble and urged her into a gallop, riding back to where the trail had crossed the Arundel-Lancaster road. Once there he continued in the direction of Arundel. Alyssa was from Gododdin, and if she had intended to go home, that would be the only direction to take.

  He had no hope of tracking her on the hard packed earth of the road, so he rode swiftly, silently, hoping he wouldn’t pass some sign of her as he went. He had already lost a lot of time.

  Gram followed the road throughout the rest of the afternoon and into the evening. Hoping that she hadn’t abandoned the road and taken a cross country route. He would miss her then.

  Darkness fell and he resumed walking, leading Pebble behind him. He stayed quiet, and the only sound was that of Pebble’s shod hooves striking the dry ground. His only hope was that he might see a light in the darkness, or catch some sound of her if she had made camp.

  There was no moon that night, and only the light of the stars served to provide enough illumination for him to keep to the road. He walked on, refusing to give up, and when the sun rose again in the morning, it found him still plodding along, weary and worn. He was past Arundel now, and the road turned north to cross the Glenmae River and enter the mountains on its way to Gododdin.

  With the return of the sun he mounted again and rode Pebble at an easy pace. They stopped at the river and he gave the mare some time to drink there before moving on. He reached the mountains before dark and stopped.

  This is ridiculous. She was well ahead of him, assuming he had even chosen the correct direction. It was also quite clear that she had planned her disappearance. Her words the day before had been very clear. He just hadn’t been listening.

  She had even packed extra food to start the journey. There had been enough left to last her a few days if she ate sparingly. In contrast to that, he had no food at all, and Pebble, though willing, had had nothing but a few short minutes to graze throughout the day.

  If he wished to pursue her further he would have to graze his horse, or find a farmer willing to spare him some grain. He would also need food.

  “There are no farmers in the mountains,” he told himself. While he had never made the crossing into Gododdin he knew that the journey took a day and a half before reaching the lowlands on the farside.

  He would have to turn back to get supplies, and that probably meant going to Arundel at the very least.

  “Why!?” he shouted, listening to his voice echo back faintly from the rocky hills ahead.

  Tired, frustrated, and angry, he turned Pebble around and began the long ride back to Castle Cameron. They plodded through the night, and a few hours after the sun had set he spotted a campfire beside the road.

  Suddenly hopeful he hurried forward, but he soon discovered that it wasn’t Alyssa. Perry Draper and two gu
ardsmen from Cameron were preparing a late supper. Fire-blind they were startled to see him emerge from the black night.

  “Hello,” he greeted them.

  “No luck eh?” said Perry.

  “No.”

  Perry gave him a sincere look, “I’m sorry, Gram. There’s still some hope, though. We sent out several search parties, to Arundel, Lancaster, and even the valley farms.”

  “That’s good,” said Gram, but deep down he knew they wouldn’t find her. It was quite clear to him that she knew exactly what she was doing, and she was sufficiently skilled to make certain no one would find her.

  The entire world is my weapon, what have I to fear? He remembered her words clearly, and looking at Perry he recalled how she had handled him during the festival. She had taken him down with such casual competence, and made it look as if he had fallen.

  Her uncle taught her a lot more than just that phrase. He was sure of that.

  Chapter 26

  They returned to Castle Cameron the next day.

  As he had expected, the other search parties had found no sign of her, though her horse was discovered grazing in one of the pastures not far from Washbrook. The sympathetic stares he had to endure upon entering the castle yard were almost more than Gram could take. If anyone had been unaware of his romance with Alyssa, they all knew by now. The story of her flight and Gram’s frantic chase were the talk of the castle, and most likely the town as well.

  Returning home, he shut himself in his room. It was bad enough facing his mother’s stare as he entered, his sister’s worried look was more than he could bear. Going to his bookcase, he took out his father’s heart-stone and held it tightly. From his window he watched the afternoon sun wane until darkness reclaimed the world.

  Slipping out of his clothes he climbed into bed, still holding the red gemstone. In the blackened room he could almost imagine she was there beside him, sleeping perhaps. The pain in his heart was beyond anything he had imagined it could be, like a physical wound. Clutching the stone tightly he buried his face in his pillows, hoping they would muffle any sound he might make.

  Alone in the dark no one could hear him cry.

  Morning came, unwelcome, bringing with it the misery of a new day. He didn’t want to wake. Waking meant facing the future, a future that didn’t include Alyssa. A knock at the door heralded the arrival of his first visitor.

  “Go away,” he said, raising his voice.

  The door opened anyway. His sister entered and closed it behind her.

  “I think you misunderstood me.”

  “I’m sorry,” she said, quietly approaching the bed.

  “Did mother send you?”

  “No. She said you probably wanted to be left alone.”

  “So she plans to wait a while before telling me what a great fool I am. That’s wonderful,” he responded bitterly.

  “That isn’t fair,” said Carissa. “None of us are happy about this; we liked her, mother included.”

  “Doesn’t change the fact of my stupidity, though.”

  “Being smart isn’t everything,” she told him. “We would probably argue a lot more if you weren’t so dumb.”

  He couldn’t help but laugh at that, but the humor brought new tears. “Please go, Carissa. Mother was right, I need to be alone.”

  “I’ll save some food, in case you get hungry later,” she said, and then she left.

  The rest of his morning was quiet. He finally rose sometime around mid-morning. True to her word he found a tray of cold meat and cheese outside his door. He satisfied his empty stomach with that before returning to sit on the side of his bed.

  Another knock interrupted his dark thoughts not long after lunch.

  “Go away.”

  The door opened, only to be filled by the form of a very large man. Cyhan stood there. “It’s time for your training. You missed the morning session.”

  “I don’t feel like it today.”

  “Ask me if I care.”

  Gram glared at him. “I’m not in the mood old man.”

  “Too fucking bad. If you don’t like it, you can try to take it out on me.”

  “I know what you’re trying to do, and it won’t work. I’m not leaving this room today,” said Gram stubbornly.

  “You ain’t got no choice, boy. If you won’t get up I’ll just beat your ass right here. One way or another, you’ll fight,” Cyhan stepped into the room, exuding menace.

  Gram leapt up from the bed, angrier than he had been since his fight with Perry. The stone was still in his hand and it seemed to pulse in his grip, filling him with a sense of power. He tossed it on the bed and looked at the other man. “Why don’t you just try then?”

  The old warrior moved forward, and Gram misread his feint. He almost put himself directly in the path of Cyhan’s first jab, but he changed directions at the last second, narrowly avoiding the blow. A look of surprise was on his teacher’s face as he struck back, hitting the big man hard in the chest, sending him flying backward.

  “Not bad,” said the old knight and then he moved forward with deliberation.

  Gram was surprised by his lucky blow as well, and he felt his mind slipping into the empty space that it always did when they fought. The room turned into a battleground as they moved back and forth.

  They were not evenly matched. Today Gram was faster, stronger, and meaner. He was as tall as Cyhan now, and while his frame was not quite as muscular yet, he had all the benefits of youthful speed and endurance. He pressed the big man back, forcing him into a defensive posture.

  Within seconds he saw his opening, and moving to one side he caught his teacher off-balance, twisting to throw the older man back toward his bed frame. Cyhan crashed into with a sound like thunder, causing one of the heavy posts to splinter and lean to one side.

  Gram turned to press his advantage but Cyhan caught hold of the bed and used it for leverage as he avoided the younger man’s sudden kick. Ripping the damaged bedpost free, he slammed it into Gram’s back, sending him to the floor.

  He lay there, stunned, staring upward at his teacher, and struggling to draw breath. Eventually he got the words out, “That was hardly fair.”

  “The world is my weapon, boy. Did your friend give you another magical boost?” Cyhan was panting.

  “No,” said Gram. “I was just mad as hell.”

  “Mad is good, as long as it doesn’t make you stupid,” said his teacher, “but that was more than just mad. I’ve been training you for months now. You were faster than normal today.”

  Rose looked in on them from the doorway. “I started to call for the guard, but once I saw the two of you, I thought the better of it. We can’t afford to lose good men.”

  Gram stared at his mother. Was that a joke? He often had trouble figuring out her dry sense of humor.

  Cyhan laughed, still holding the bedpost.

  Elise Thornbear looked over Rose’s shoulder, “I see he decided to use your favorite weapon, Rose.”

  Is everyone in the castle in my room today? wondered Gram. “Weapon?”

  “Your mother once used a bedpost to brain your grandfather Duncan,” said the old woman. “It’s a wonder she didn’t kill him.”

  He had never heard that story.

  “Not now, Elise,” said Rose, giving his grandmother an irritated look.

  “Actually, I think this would be a perfect time,” observed Gram.

  Cyhan interrupted, “That will have to wait for later, ladies. This young lion has to finish his training for the day.” Dropping the bedpost on the mattress he began ushering Gram out of the room.

  “Still?” protested Gram. “I thought we settled that already.”

  The knight gave him a frightening grin, “Should we have another conversation?”

  “I’m moving. No need to make threats.”

  ***

  Cyhan focused Gram’s training that afternoon primarily on physical exercises and balance, forgoing any further sparring. He never admitted it bu
t when Gram thought about it later he suspected that it might have been for personal reasons. Despite his considerable prowess, the big man had probably taken quite a few bruises. Gram had been far from gentle.

  The realization resulted in a mixture of emotions in Gram, both guilt and pride.

  As they ended and began walking back to Cameron Castle, Cyhan held his hand out toward his student. “I think this is yours.” A large red ruby lay in his palm.

  Gram took it. “How did you get this?”

  “You dropped it on the bed when we went at it,” said Cyhan. “I had a feeling you didn’t want your mother seeing it when she came in.”

  He nodded.

  “That was part of your father, wasn’t it?”

  Gram slipped the stone into his belt pouch, nodding again. He didn’t trust himself to speak.

  “How long had you been holding it before I came in?”

  Embarrassed, Gram didn’t want to admit that he’d been clutching the stone for most of the night. “Several hours.”

  “Do you feel anything from it?”

  “Sometimes it feels warm, but it might just be my body heat,” said Gram. “Other times, when I think about Dad, or when I feel…” He stopped, unable to continue along those lines. “I like to think there’s something of him in it. It makes me feel better.”

  “How often do you do that?” asked Cyhan.

  “A lot when I was little,” said Gram, “but not much anymore. It had been months since the last time I looked at it. Yesterday was rough…”

  “This morning you fought like a demon, almost like you’d taken an earth-bond,” noted the warrior. “Have any of the wizards seen it?”

  Gram shook his head. “I picked it up right after—it happened. I never showed anyone.”

  “I won’t tell you your business, but you probably should,” advised his teacher.

  He said no more after that and the two finished their walk back. Gram was still upset but he was starving from his exertions and when the time came for dinner, his hunger outweighed his anxiety at facing his friends.

  Everyone was glad to see him at the table, his mother in particular, though she avoided addressing him directly so as not to draw attention to him. Carissa rose and hugged him, not caring whether it embarrassed him. Matthew and Moira were happy as well, but they waited for the noise to resume before talking to him.