Quest of the Dreamwalker (The Corthan Legacy Book 1)

by Stacy Bennett

  “Well then, what trouble brings you home in such poor condition?” Bradan asked.

  Archer wiped his mouth and began the story of how he and Khoury had been kidnapped. Stories, as Khoury had discovered over the years, were Archer’s hidden passion, making him about the best traveling companion Khoury ever had. The captain happily focused on his food as Archer detailed with true Northern flair how they had been taken to the stronghold at the foot of the Black Mountains. He described the fiery death of the kidnappers, the interminable waiting, and how Cara came to his cell. Beside him, Maura’s face became paler at each new danger.

  Khoury heard her hold her breath as Archer described the night Cara arrived with the keys, remorseful and shaken, the exploding doors, the bears’ mutiny and the blizzard. Khoury realized in retrospect that the storm would certainly have claimed their lives if the girl hadn’t insisted on saving the bears.

  Bradan thoughtfully tugged on his beard braids in the deep silence that followed the story, his dark eyes unreadable. Maura hugged Archer and laid her head on his shoulder, a single tear on her cheek.

  Then a burst of brightness broke the spell, and all heads turned to stare at the woman standing in the doorway, pale hair shining in the sunlight.

  Archer stood, and waved. “Cara!”

  Her worried eyes found him but she still trembled as if ready to flee at the slightest provocation. Whatever courage Khoury had seen on the tundra seemed only a memory now. As she carefully picked her way toward them, his pity for her returned, bringing with it a strange desire to shelter her.

  The small boy Bradan had sent to fetch her dragged her by the hand and then darted out the door once he’d handed her off to Archer. She sank to the bench between him and the chieftain, across from Khoury.

  “You must be starving, too,” Maura said, standing up. “Let me get you some stew.” She squeezed Cara’s shoulder affectionately as she headed toward the kitchen. Only Khoury noticed the girl flinch at her touch.

  Bradan nodded kindly to her, and she gave him a grateful smile. “Thank you for your hospitality.” Her speech was low and halting.

  “Archer was just telling us a little of your story.” The large man leaned closer. “But I think he left out some important parts.”

  The look that Cara gave Archer was heavy with guilt and secrets, piquing Khoury’s curiosity.

  “Who are you really?” The chieftain took her hand in his tattooed one and her nostrils flared at the touch.

  “Nobody.”

  “Nobody? I hear you’re the daughter of a sorcerer.”

  She lowered her head as if ashamed. “Well, yes that.”

  “Then again, maybe not.” Bradan studied her closely.

  Why would the chieftain challenge her claim? Khoury wondered.

  She gasped. “I’m not lying.” She looked to Archer, briefly to Khoury and then back to Bradan.

  “Far Islanders are recruited, not bred, my dear,” he said.

  “What?” Her surprised face held no guile.

  “Far Islanders don’t have children. They are forbidden from intimacy with women,” the chieftain explained. “They believe it weakens their magic.”

  Khoury had never heard that rumor before. Then again, he’d never been particularly interested in sorcerer lovemaking. Before Cara could say anything more, Maura arrived with a steaming bowl and placed it in front of the girl.

  “Are you all right?” she asked, noting Cara’s shocked look.

  The girl looked up at Maura. “Father, I mean Sidonius, always called me Daughter,” she explained.

  Maura looked sternly at her father. “Are you upsetting her already? Give the girl a minute to warm up.”

  “I am simply asking her who she is.”

  Maura sniffed with disappointment. “Food first. By the ghost, she’s skin and bones.” Maura shook her head as she sat down next to Archer, glaring at her father as if daring him to start the conversation again.

  “It wouldn’t be a bad thing, Cara,” Archer said. “Sidonius not being your father. It would mean you have real parents elsewhere.”

  As Cara looked sadly into her bowl, Khoury could hear her stomach rumble. Then she took a breath and set her jaw. “Why don’t you ask me what you really want to know?”

  “I have,” the chieftain said.

  “No, the other questions.” Her words were stronger now. “The ones you don’t know how to ask.”

  Bradan blinked in surprise. Khoury couldn’t remember ever seeing Bradan off balance before.

  “He can wait, Cara,” Maura interjected.

  “No,” Cara said, turning to fully face the chieftain. “Now.” Her palms cupped his weathered cheeks. Then she breathed out in one long slow exhale and closed her eyes. Her head tilted to the side.

  “Yes, he’s very powerful,” she said.

  Bradan hadn’t said a word. Khoury looked to Archer questioningly, but the other man could only shrug.

  “Too many to count,” Cara said.

  “What’s she talking about?” Maura whispered.

  Cara swallowed hard and said, “They all died.”

  As Khoury listened to the eerie one-sided conversation, the hair on the back of his neck stood up.

  “As long as I can remember.” A tear ran down her cheek. “I couldn’t save them. I never tried.”

  Khoury shifted in his seat. He had the sudden urge to pull her hands away from Bradan and soothe the sadness he saw in her face. But he resisted.

  Bradan raised his hands to cover hers on each side of his face, and he closed his eyes as well as she continued. “I heard him in the hall. No one ever spoke to me before.”

  Bradan opened his eyes and asked the next question aloud, Khoury presumed, so they could all hear her answer. “And why did you help them escape?”

  “He was nice to me. He cared so much about the captain. I’d never seen that before. When Father said he’d make me watch them die, I couldn’t bear it.”

  She opened her eyes and dropped her hands. The tension disappeared with a palpable whoosh of energy, releasing Khoury from his trance. “I’m so sorry for what I didn’t do,” she said, looking first at Bradan and then Archer. Khoury noticed she avoided his eyes. “I’m sorry for all the men who died. What kind of horrible person am I?”

  “Someone who never knew anything else,” Bradan reassured her, placing his large hand over one of hers. “You acted when the time was right. Nothing more could be expected.”

  Looking around the noisy hall, Khoury realized that no one else had noticed the strange conversation, or felt the power. The girl slid her hand out from under Bradan’s and tucked it in her lap.

  “What was that?” Archer asked, incredulous.

  “It’s how I talk to the bears,” she said as if that explained everything.

  “I meant, how did you do that?” Archer asked her.

  “I don’t know. When I touch the bears, I hear what’s inside their head.”

  Archer’s hand grabbed her forearm, startling her. “Tell me what I’m thinking,” he said with a boyish look. Maura punched his arm, hard.

  “I can’t,” Cara said, shrinking away from him, “unless I touch your skin with my hand. But I don’t like to do it.”

  “How long have you been able to do this?” Bradan looked at her intently.

  “I’ve talked with the bears as long as I can remember. But I didn’t know it worked on people until….” Her voice faded, and her eyes flicked to Khoury for the briefest moment.

  His mind raced back to the first day he saw her, the jolt of energy that passed through him when he touched her hand. The way she pulled away. Had she heard his thoughts then?

  “An impressive talent,” Bradan murmured, nodding his head at Maura and then looking at another table.

  Maura stood, taking Cara’s spoon and bowl from the table. “Come on. It’ll be more peaceful over here.” She led Cara to another table.

  Pity filled Khoury as he watched Cara walk in a daze to sit by Maura. S
oon enough though, Maura had her eating and by the look of her, she had been starving, too. Had she really lived there her whole life? he wondered. And where did Sidonius find her? Who were her real parents?

  Bradan turned to Archer with a fatherly smile. “Go on, Reid. My daughter’s missed you.” Khoury thought he heard a hint of accusation. “We make the girl anxious, but she seems comfortable with you.” Archer smiled and took his drink to the other table, settling in next to Maura.

  In the silence, Khoury felt Bradan’s weighty stare. When he turned to him, the chieftain’s eyes held mischievous curiosity. “Something you wanted to talk to me about?” he asked the older man.

  “Always a sharp one.”

  Khoury took another slow sip and waited for Bradan to speak.

  “You feel it, don’t you?”

  Khoury’s guard went up. “Feel what?”

  Bradan gestured to Cara with his chin.

  “I feel sorry for her,” Khoury allowed.

  “I know you’re more than you appear, Captain.”

  Khoury hid the sudden flush of anxiety with a careless stretch as he leaned back in his chair. “I’m exactly what I appear to be: A landless mercenary.”

  Bradan looked unconvinced. “Did you know the gifted have always been drawn to others with power?”

  Bradan could sense innate power? Certainly, Khoury’s talent had been forced down long enough to remain hidden. Or had it? “Meaning?”

  “I can feel her power. Even from here. She glows with it. The more powerful the magic, the stronger the attraction.”

  Bradan’s revelation about sensing power was more concerning to the captain than whether the girl might be a sorceress. And though the older man’s eyes were on Cara, Khoury sensed he was the real subject of the shaman’s scrutiny. Deflection had always served Khoury well. He leaned over and eyed the chieftain. “She’s far too young for you. And aren’t you married?”

  “What?” Taken aback, Bradan answered defensively. “No, it’s not like that. I want to help her.”

  “And so you will,” Khoury said. Was the pull he’d felt toward her that simple, just her power calling to his?

  “Do I see something of that in your eyes, Captain?” Bradan pressed.

  “No. Nothing like that.” Khoury’s voice was rough. He coughed once and continued, “If it weren’t for her, we’d be dead. I owe her my life.”

  With a shake of his head, Bradan got up from the table. “I see. We’ll put her in with Maura for the time being. You remember where the guest lodge is, don’t you?”

  Khoury cleared his throat. “I do, and I appreciate you letting me stay a while.”

  “I don’t think you’ll be staying too long, Captain. I believe you have a job to do.” Khoury felt a queer shiver at the older man’s words.

  ONCE CARA STARTED in on the meaty stew, she forgot all about the measuring stares of the men and memories of dust in the altar room. Her world for the moment consisted of nothing more than the strange, salty dark meat, the savory roots and the thick gravy. Maura and Archer spoke quietly next to her, content to linger while she ate. Once sated, a multitude of pains intruded on Cara’s awareness: her scraped knees and bruised arms, the painful skin of her nose, cheeks, and knuckles.

  “If you’re done, let’s get you cleaned up,” Maura said. “I have some balm for that frostbite.”

  “Thank you.” Cara stood and stretched, feeling almost human again.

  “For me, too?” Archer asked with a wink.

  Maura laughed. “You can go to Ingrid,” she teased. “And take a bath while you’re at it.”

  Archer laughed and scooped Maura against him with one arm, kissing her soundly. Then he chucked Cara gently under the chin and went back to the table where Khoury sat alone.

  “C’mon.” Maura took Cara by the hand and led her out the door. At the touch, memories of Archer’s warm laughter and surprisingly mellow singing voice played across Cara’s mind along with less joyful things. A cramp of borrowed longing lodged under her ribs at Archer’s face disappearing down the road. Cara was too tired to make sense of the conflicting emotions washing over her. She longed for peace and quiet.

  Maura released her hand when they got to a small hut of rough-hewn wood daubed with earth. Cara rubbed the feel of Maura’s mind off her palm as she followed her into the dwelling whose only room was small by Keep standards. It was homey though. Skins warmed the floors and blankets covered most of the low wooden furniture. Shelves and chests made a wall, turning the back corner into a bathing alcove.

  “Do you have any gloves?” Cara asked, feeling awkward.

  “Oh, no.” Maura’s face turned pink. “I’m so sorry, Cara. I forgot.”

  “It’s okay. Maybe if I just keep my hands covered.”

  “Good idea.” Maura lifted the heavy lid of a large trunk near the washroom and pawed through its contents. “There’s fresh water in the basin and this balm will soothe that frostbite.” She straightened and handed Cara a small ceramic pot of pungent grease. Then Maura turned her toward the alcove and gave her a soft shove. “Just get the dirt off. We can get you a hot bath tonight.”

  Cara put the little jar down on the shelf next to the basin and scooped up the water in her cupped hands, splashing her face and rubbing gritty dirt from her skin. The refreshing coolness was delightful though it stung Father’s burns and her frostbitten skin. She reached for the small pot of balm and gingerly dabbed on the salve, sighing with relief. The skin smarted at first but soon her fingers traced gentle circles and a warm tingling relieved the ache.

  A tall polished silver mirror hung behind the shelves. The face that stared back surprised her. The white curtain of her hair was longer than she realized. With her blonde eyebrows and pale skin, she looked faded like a painting hung in the sun. No wonder Archer thought I was a ghost.

  She’d never realized how slovenly her gray robes looked until she compared them to Maura’s prim dress. And the clean brilliance of the sparkling sapphire at her throat only made the rest of her that much grubbier. What Cara saw in the mirror was little more than a disheveled orphan.

  “Cara,” Maura poked her head around the shelves and pushed a bundle of clothes at her, “these should fit you and will certainly be warmer than what you’ve got on.”

  Cara took them as Maura returned to the other room, giving her some much-needed privacy. She stripped off the familiar dingy robes, ignoring the scent of dust that rose from them. After a quick swipe with the cool, wet towel, she slipped into the new shift and over tunic. She’d never worn anything cut for a girl before and was surprised how naked one could feel in so much fabric. The shift was nearly black with long sleeves that came down to her wrists, and she covered it with a leafy-green tunic, fitted in the chest and waist with wider sleeves that only reached her forearms.

  “Do they fit?” Maura asked.

  Cara tugged and twisted to settle the fabric more comfortably on her small frame. “I think.”

  A hand appeared around the shelf holding a wide embroidered belt. “Here. Take this, too.”

  Cara tied the embroidered sash just above her hips the way Maura’s was. When she checked the mirror again, she felt taller though the skirt dragged on the ground. Her amulet was hidden by the dark shift’s neckline. The deep green of the tunic emphasized her pale hair and reflected in her eyes, giving them a hint of teal. But the most fascinating thing to Cara was that she had a figure, a woman’s figure. Not as ample as Maura’s certainly, but she didn’t look like a child anymore. She walked back out into the main room, flushing with pleasure at Maura’s approving smile.

  “You look lovely,” the Northern girl said.

  “Thank you.”

  “Here are the gloves.” Maura handed Cara a pair of cream-colored kidskin gloves, thin enough not to be clumsy.

  Cara slipped one on and grabbed Maura’s hand, relieved that she felt nothing. “Perfect.”

  “Now sit.” Maura pointed to a bench and, for the next half hour, she b
rushed and braided Cara’s long hair. “Now you’re presentable,” she said.

  Cara toured the village with Maura who introduced her to everyone. The sun had set by the time they were done, and Cara didn’t think she’d remember even one name. Back at Maura’s hut, a large tub occupied the middle of the big room filled with steaming water. Maura left Cara there to soak while she went to the kitchens to help prepare the feast celebrating Archer’s return.

  In less than an hour, Maura was dragging her to the small clearing near the dining hall where a large bonfire now raged, controlled by a circle of stones. The smoke reminded her of Father. A chill curled around her belly, but the warm press of smiling people kept the worst fears at bay.

  Cara caught sight of Archer across the clearing. His face was freshly scrubbed, and his beard now had two small braids. Auburn curls clung damply to his neck. The leather rest of a worn fiddle was tucked under his chin as he conferred with three other men holding instruments. Cara saw a man point in their direction, and Archer’s eyes lit up when he saw Maura.

  Maura waved to him. “Come on,” she said, pulling Cara after her.

  They passed Bradan and an older woman sharing a seat near the hall, his arm draped with warm affection across her shoulders. When they reached Archer, he had put down the fiddle and caught Maura up into his arms, planting a kiss on his lips.

  He lowered Maura to her feet and looked at Cara, feigning surprise. “Maura, I don’t believe I know this enchanting creature. Good evening, lovely lady.” Cara laughed as he took up her gloved hand and kissed the knuckles gently.

  Khoury materialized from behind Archer, sending her heart thumping for no apparent reason. He stopped and stared as well, his dark eyebrows rising in surprise. She blushed with pleasure. He inclined his head in an abbreviated bow. “Lady Cara.”

  “Are you playing tonight?” Maura asked.