by M. S. Brook
“But how can I be a warrior? I don’t even know how to swing a sword!”
“Ah. You’ve put your finger right on it.” Uncle Leo paused to knead his beard for a moment. “Dreams are given that we might believe what we cannot see. But that doesn’t absolve us from working hard. Perhaps we can do something about skills too. Let me think on it. Meantime, you could use some cheering up, and I believe I have just the thing. Been saving it for the right time. Can you wait a minute while I fetch it?”
I waited, chin in hands, until Uncle Leo returned with a small leather bag. From silk wrappings, he drew out a clear stone pendant and golden chain. It was so beautiful I couldn’t trust I’d heard right. “Did you say that’s for me?”
“I did. I want you to have it for a special reason. It’s called a pledgestone because it represents the promise of Enfys. See how it gathers the light? Even the smallest flicker becomes beautiful.” He held the stone up, letting it swing on its golden chain. The polished stone caught the light, reflecting brilliant colors in its sparkling depths.
I felt almost giddy watching the motion. A sound, like the whispering of wind, murmured in my ears. The long golden chain and setting were intricately worked, and the stone was a large oval shape. Mysterious and wonderful, the vibrant colors drew me. I didn’t want to look away.
“Those who wear the stone pledge fealty to Enfys. And in return, they belong to the promise. Would you like to wear it?”
“Oh, yes!”
Uncle Leo placed the chain around my neck, and I felt the weight of it, its richness beyond my imagination. “Always remember that you belong to the promise,” he said. “No matter where you may find yourself, even in the darkest place imaginable, there will always be a flicker of light.”
“I’ll remember.” I cupped the stone in my hand to examine it more closely, but the colors faded away. I held it up to the light again, and the vivid colors came sparkling back, revealing the rainbow hidden within. I held my breath and stared into it. Just as I thought I would capture the depths of one color, it shifted to the next, until every color of the rainbow was displayed in turn. I gave it a twirl and all the colors ran together.
“Beautiful,” I whispered, still unable to look away. “Where did it come from?”
“It was mined from the earth a very long time ago. The ancients say that the Songmaker plucked pieces of song from his own heart and buried them so that his people would find them in time of need. Over time, they became jewels like this.”
I gasped. “Where did you hear that?”
“It’s an old story I read in the library at Ashling Keep.”
“But how can a song become a jewel?”
“Think about the River Silver. Every winter, the river is frozen into ice. When spring comes, it again becomes a lively, flowing stream. In the same way, the song is captured in stone, awaiting the time for its release.”
“Amazing!” I thought for a minute. “Did the story tell where the mine is?”
“The mine’s location is lost now, along with so much from the past that we don’t understand, but I was able to save several of these pendants before Ashling Keep fell. I wear one here under my shirt. Best to keep it hidden for now. Your father and mother may know about it, but no one else.”
“I hope I don’t lose it.”
“You won’t.”
I tucked the stone under my tunic and felt it settle next to my heart. I pressed my right hand on top of it, feeling it rise and fall with each breath. How precious it must be, formed from the Maker’s own heart and then rescued from the king’s house in the Northlands.
“Was your regiment with the king when Ashling Keep fell?” I asked.
“Not exactly…but I was his personal guard for many years.”
I stared at him. “You were?” Suddenly the little I knew about Uncle Leo made more sense. I understood why he always seemed so mysterious, his unexplained comings and goings, his knowledge of the events and history of the realm; it was all because he’d been close to the king. “But why didn’t you tell us all this before?”
“What you just managed to worm out of me could cost me my life. You must trust me on this even as I trust you not to repeat what I’ve told you. Show the pendant to no one, not even Nieve.”
I nodded. My heart felt cold that he had such enemies. “I won’t say a word.”
“Good. Understand that you are not to be afraid—just careful. These are uncertain times. The House of Worrgard is rising, and Saduk would bend Canwyrrie to his own desires if we let him. But we will not allow it. Still, all of us must be prepared to do our part.”
“But what does that have to do with me? What can I do?”
“Oh, I think you know better than that. Keep listening for the quiet whisper.” He patted his chest. “You will find that all you need is already planted deep within, right here, waiting for you to discover it.”
I wished he would tell me more, but he only said, “You’ll see. Keep listening.”
Several evenings later, Uncle Leo looked in to see Papa and to tell us that he was leaving for a short while. “Now that Daryn is on the mend, I have a matter to attend to in the Emerald Dales.”
“But it’s still cold,” Mama said. “Can’t you wait until the weather is better?”
“It’s not four days’ journey, and on good road most of the way. I’ll be gone no more than a fortnight.”
We were sitting in warm firelight, cradling steaming cups of tea. I took a sip, hot and sweet and smelling of mint. How dull it was when he went off on his journeys, but at least this would be a short one.
“I have a favor to ask,” Uncle Leo said after a moment.
“Anything you need,” Papa said. “Just say the word.”
“Oh, it’s not that sort of favor. It’s about Aidriana.” I’m sure my ears shot up like our horse Penmar’s when I whistled for him, but I had to be patient while Uncle Leo took a sip of tea, smoothed his beard, and finally went on in his calm voice. “She told me she felt frightened and helpless the night you were attacked. I’ve been thinking she might benefit from training. I know it’s different here, but where I grew up, it was not unusual for a woman to know how to handle bow or sword. She’s growing tall and strong, true to her Northern heritage. Skill yields confidence and might come in handy someday.”
I could hardly keep from jumping out of my seat. “Oh, say yes, please!” I said.
Papa glanced at me and then at Mama. “Well, it’s a little unusual for a young lady of the Household to learn such things, but perhaps in these times—”
“Is it safe?” asked Mama. “Sword training sounds dangerous!”
“We won’t start there,” said Uncle Leo. “Strength training, horse riding, archery, and cudgels come first. Last of all is sword work.”
Papa looked at Mama again. She looked doubtful, but finally made a small nod. “Very well,” Papa said. “You may go ahead.”
I jumped up and ran to hug Uncle Leo. “Please hurry back so we can start!”
“I will, which reminds me. I’d best be going.” He stood and handed me his empty cup. “I’ll be on the road before any of you are out of bed.”
Chapter 6
Uncle Leo returned from his errand sooner than the promised fortnight. I was fetching coal from the pile behind the smithy and was just about to carry my load in when I heard his quiet voice inside.
“Saduk has renewed his search for descendants of the royal line in Canwyrrie,” I heard him say. “I’ve already spoken with Lord Kempton, but I wanted you to hear it from me before the story gets around.”
With a thrill of fear, I dropped my bucket and listened at the doorway.
“I was up at Ivywood, investigating rumors of an attack on the lands of King Aidan’s late uncle, Sir Wilfred Ivywood. Unfortunately, it was more than a rumor. A Blackcoat war band, Bezarqs I don’t do
ubt, struck the estate in the middle of the night. They yanked everyone out of their beds and lined them up in the stable yard. The Dominians had two vithons with them, and they threatened to turn them loose if they didn’t get what they came for.”
“Vithons again,” Papa said. “What could they want with Sir Wilfred’s servants?”
“Information. The Blackcoats were interested in the whereabouts of his children. They worked Ivywood’s steward over to get the family’s location out of him. Of course, he kept repeating the same story, that the family had returned to Lady Ivywood’s relations in the Northlands after Sir Wilfred’s death. But the Blackcoats weren’t happy with it. They let the vithons loose on him—tore the poor man to pieces right in front of his wife and children.”
“Maker save us!” Papa said.
I felt sick, remembering the vithon roars I’d heard the night Papa was attacked. Had the three Blackcoats been members of Saduk’s special Bezarq Guard? Bezarqs were known to be even more vicious than regular Blackcoat soldiers. What if the vithons had been with them when they attacked Papa? Would the vithons have killed him instead of leaving him for dead? Would they have caught my scent? I wondered if Papa thought of it too, because he wasn’t saying anything. I was ready to walk back in, when Papa finally spoke.
“Something has changed. We’ve grown used to the odd skirmish at the border, but this is different. The bold attack in Highfield and now this savagery well inside our borders…”
“As resistance in the North slowly falls, Saduk gains the strength to turn his eyes toward Canwyrrie,” said Uncle Leo.
“I hope the council will hear your warning.”
“Oh, they’ll hear me all right. But will they heed it? That is what worries me.”
“So they were after poor old Sir Wilfred’s family. I hope they’re safe.”
“They’ve gone into hiding. That’s all I’ll say about it.”
“And what of the other relations of the king in the Northlands? Where are they?”
“Those of his Household, who have escaped Saduk’s grasp, have taken refuge deep in the mountains.” Uncle Leo’s voice was hoarse. “But I’ve lost track…Saduk has been relentless in the North. Each time he comes close, the Household must find a new hiding place.”
By the time I picked up my load and carried it in, Papa was alone again. He spent the rest of the day looking as if he’d eaten something that didn’t agree with him.
I suffered no lack of occupation through the remainder of the winter. There were lessons in the morning and the smithy in the afternoon. Every few days, Uncle Leo would stop by to enlist my help with herbal preparations or to take me along on a house call to someone in need of healing. I especially looked forward to those times, because while we were out, he would teach me about horse riding, shooting, tracking, or other skills useful to a warrior.
Sometimes after a busy day, I would sit by our warm fire and think about Uncle Fergal and his patrol, scouting along the border. I wondered if they’d found a barn to sleep in that night, or learned anything about the Blackcoats, or heard from the king.
The snow was melting at Highfield by the time the three scouting parties returned. Uncle Fergal was the last one back. On the day of his arrival he went straight to council without seeing us. The regents didn’t dismiss for evenfest, but I was hopeful that he would finish before bedtime.
I sat on a stool beside Mama’s spinning wheel and carded wool for her to spin into thread for her weaving. The smell of newly washed wool tickled my nose and made me feel like sneezing, but I didn’t mind that. Carding was the easy part. Mama could make the wheel spin smooth as butter, but when I tried, it was nothing but jerky fits and starts. I’d worked halfway through my basket, when we heard a knock and a shout at the door. Without waiting for an answer, Uncle Fergal strode in. He kissed Mama and me, refusing Mama’s offer of refreshment.
“I’ve just had a late supper, thank you, Clare.”
“Here, put your feet up,” said Papa, pulling a chair by the fire.
Uncle Fergal eased onto the chair with a sigh. I thought he looked dashing in his Guardian Red and Blues, almost as handsome as his older brother. Papa had served with the Guardians too, but resigned his commission when their father died, in order to run the smithy. I often wished I could have seen him dressed as a Guardian. The brothers were big, strong men with hair and beards the color of golden wheat. Their matching sky-blue eyes were usually twinkling, but the men were serious tonight, speaking in low voices. I listened hard to catch their words above the sound of Mama’s spinning wheel.
Uncle Fergal had witnessed little sign of Dominian aggression in his circuit through the lonely western region. His patrol had traveled to the foot of Foggy Peaks, the mountain range that lies between Domaine and Canwyrrie in the west. There, mountain tributaries feed into the River Plevin, which forms a natural border between the two provinces, flowing all the way eastward until it empties into the sea.
Constable Hill’s easterly foray was likewise quiet. Only Constable Carlin’s party brought back reports of raiders. In the rich central region called the Emerald Dales, attacks were growing more frequent. Roaming war bands were stealing food supplies and threatening farmers, sometimes burning their houses and barns, meeting anyone who resisted with ruthless force.
“How can this happen in Canwyrrie?” Papa asked in a low voice.
I placed a tangled clump of wool on the teeth of my flat carding comb and raked over it with a second comb until the fibers were all running in the same direction. Then I rolled the straightened wool off the comb and dropped it into a basket, careful to work quietly so I wouldn’t miss anything the men were saying.
“We’ve had trouble spots all along,” Uncle Fergal said, “but it’s worse now. The village at Plevsferry is abandoned now for fear of Domaine. The people burned the docks before they left, and sent the boats to the bottom of the river rather than leave them for the raiders to use.”
Papa grunted. “Even Sir Ailin can’t ignore that, can he? What did the regents say?”
“As always, we are of two opinions. Lord Kempton wants to assemble a war company and ride across the border. He says if we don’t respond quickly and forcefully, the raiders will become bolder.”
Mama’s foot hesitated for just a beat, and her thread slackened. She gave the pedal an extra push to catch up.
“Hard to dispute that, isn’t it?” Papa said.
“Perhaps, but both Ailin and Donal believe that we can make peace with Domaine. If we can just keep Domaine on their side of the border, we’ll be all right.”
“When water runs uphill.”
“Yes. They’re not accounting for Saduk’s nature.”
“So you and Kempton want action, and Donal and Ailin don’t. I’m afraid I would not have the patience you have.”
Uncle Fergal shifted in his chair and crossed his legs. “I must admit that I run out of it at times. Ailin, especially, rubs like a stone in your boot. But I always remember the day we were playing behind the tower and saw the Guardians bring his father back from Domaine in a box. I can’t be too hard on him after that.”
“Mm, I’ll never forget it either…but I don’t think it helps him see this matter clearly. Doing nothing will have consequences.”
“Well, happily we did find something to agree on. We will increase our presence at the border. Special patrols will be assigned to the region.”
There was a short silence. I picked up another clump of wool and dropped it onto my comb. Uncle Fergal leaned closer to Papa and said, “Lord Kempton has asked me to go on border patrol rotations. My concern is that I’ll be gone far more often, leaving you with most of the responsibility for the smithy. And now that you’ve been injured—”
“Do what needs doing, Fergal. We’ll be all right here.”
“I knew you’d say that, and I fervently hope you’ll be back to
normal soon.”
Papa nodded, and Uncle Fergal turned his chair to face Mama and me. He told us a few stories from the patrol. It seemed they’d had a great adventure, like I knew they would.
“Rowland and Arvel had me feeling my years, that’s for sure,” Uncle Fergal said with a laugh. “They didn’t seem to mind sleeping on a barn floor or riding all day in the snow. I’ll have to toughen up if I’m to ride with the border patrols again. I’m feeling some muscles I don’t remember feeling lately.”
“You’ll sleep well in your own bed tonight,” Mama said.
“Oh, I will. Looking forward to a hot bath too.”
After Uncle Fergal left, I finished my basket. Mama’s wheel made its quiet humming sound while I combed the last bits of wool. Papa just sat and stared into the fire.
Chapter 7
The border patrols held back Domaine for a time. Another winter came and went, followed by an uneventful spring. And then, in early summer, the vithons struck in Canwyrrie again. I learned of the attack along with my schoolmates. We were picking peaches on the Crown lands below Tower Hill, when we heard a shout and the sound of galloping hooves. Rowland Kempton was charging down the hill toward us, waving and shouting my name. He pulled up in front of us, the high color on his freckled face nearly matching his flaming, windblown hair. Arvel grabbed the horse’s halter to steady him, and Rowland said to me in an urgent voice, “You’re wanted at the tower. There’s been a vithon attack.”
Arvel looked shocked. “A vithon attack? Where?”
“It was Captain Ardleigh’s patrol, up near the border. Captain Ardleigh’s broken his leg. He’s in terrible pain, and Mister Lionel can’t be found.”
I dropped my basket and stood there like a stump, peaches spilling out at my feet. Arvel motioned to me. “Here, let me give you a leg up.” He made a stirrup with his hands, and before I knew it, I was in the saddle behind Rowland. “Hold tight, now,” he said.