“I’ve been practicing on dogs and rabbits,” Portia said. “You’re the first person I’ve tried it on. It’s good to know it works on people too.”
Finn gave her a wide-eyed look of horror. “It’s also good that I didn’t end up with long furry ears and a fuzzy tail!”
She picked up a pillow and threw it at him. He knocked it aside. “Thank you,” he said. “I feel almost myself again.”
“You’re welcome. Now, come along. We have to go.”
“Go? Where is it we’re going?”
“To the great hall. I have been summoned by our lord father and I want you to come with me. He’s up to something and I’m certain it can’t be good.”
“Poor Cedric,” Finn sighed, placing the back of his hand against his forehead in a dramatic gesture. “That he should have such thankless children. It must be a great burden for him.”
“If mother were still alive, she would not have allowed him to treat me this way. He looks at me as if I’m a brood mare he is anxious to sell.” She leapt up and began pacing back and forth at the foot of his bed.
“I doubt anything would have been different,” Finn said. “Like it or not, we’re part of the nobility—chivalry and honor, money, lands, titles—they are the mortar and bricks that hold a kingdom together, or so I’m told. I’m sure Cedric and even pompous old Sir Eris think they are doing the right thing for us and for the kingdom.”
Portia paused to stare at him. “That’s very... magnanimous of you. I’m surprised to hear you say it.”
Finn made a disgusted noise and sat up. “I didn’t say I agree with them. I have my own ideas about life, as do you.”
“Well, there’s no use putting it off. Let’s go see what new torture Father has conjured up for me.”
“Don’t use the word ‘conjure’ in his presence, whatever you do.” Finn rolled off the bed and landed lightly on his feet. He ran a hand over his chest and stomach confirming their inexplicable repair.
“He has likely found another husband for you,” Finn teased. “You may have driven all the other ones away, but there are always more. I, for one, can’t wait to meet him. I will wear something black for the occasion.”
“You always wear black.” Portia resumed her pacing.
“Quite right. Why change now?” He went to his wardrobe, pulling out clothes and began dressing.
“How can you be so cavalier about it?” Portia said. “Aren’t you worried about what’s going to happen when I’m gone? I have this awful feeling—probably because Zerabnir suggested it—that some doom is upon us.”
“It’s my nature to be cavalier, and doom is always upon us. That’s pretty much what life is. Cedric may think he has our best interests at heart, but I am not willing to play his games or participate in his schemes and plots. I will fall on my sword first—or at least a sword. I’m sure there’s one about somewhere.”
Portia dropped onto Finn’s bed and let out a sigh. “Zerabnir told me he was leaving Nachtwald and he suggested that I do the same.”
“Did he?” Finn sat on the bed next to her and began pulling on his boots. “He may be right. It’s only a matter of time before Cedric has you married off to some pale, warty nobleman, and Aedon knows what he’ll do with me. Unless, of course, you want to marry a warty nobleman?”
Portia punched him on the shoulder. “You know I don’t. I don’t want to marry anyone, not for a very long while. All I want is to become a wizard like Mother and to see something of the world. I hear there is a great deal of it beyond Nachtwald’s walls.” She stood again, straightening her cloak.
“Well,” Finn said, “Let’s go see what this summons is all about. Perhaps that will make things clearer.”
“That’s what I’m afraid of.” Portia took his arm. “But I’m glad that you’re coming with me.”
“I was under the impression that I had no choice.”
Finn pulled the chamber door closed behind him and he and Portia made their way along the passage to the stairs. Through an open window above the landing, he caught a glimpse of Arrom’s Rock in the distance. The flat mountaintop with its blasted ruins was pale and dull beneath the sun. Then a shadow, cast by a passing cloud, crept over the top of the hill shrouding half of it in darkness, and he saw, or thought he saw, a flicker of light, like sunlight reflected on metal.
“What is it?” Portia said, and Finn realized that he had stopped walking. For a moment he felt as if the doom Portia spoke of was indeed near. He shook his head, pushing the thought aside.
“Nothing,” he looked back at her. “Come on, let’s go see what Father wants.”
* * *
The great hall of Nachtwald was built against the curtain wall at the west end of the castle. It served as a community center and dining hall for all those who resided within the castle’s walls and for the infrequent guests they received. The hall measured 40 feet wide and 100 feet long, a large, open chamber with a loft ceiling and three tall windows that faced the inner ward. The lord’s usher led them into the hall. Portia and Finn walked slowly, like two prisoners on their way to a quick trial followed by an equally swift execution.
At the south end of the hall was a door that led to the kitchens and next to it, a great stone fireplace. Two more fireplaces occupied the curtain wall, each as large as the first. Tapestries, depicting the great battles and momentous events of Nachtwald’s history decorated the whitewashed stone, along with brightly painted shields and banners displaying the various coats of arms of the noble houses. Torches burned in sconces along the walls, along with several braziers placed at intervals on the stone floor. The floor was covered in fresh straw and the scent of lavender hung in the air.
A large dais occupied the opposite end of the hall, raised to a height of nearly 10 feet off the floor, with stone steps leading up to it on one side. A long table was placed there with two smaller chairs and one massive wooden chair with a high back. A griffin, rearing back on its hind legs, its forepaws clawing the air, was carved into the oversized headrest. Beneath the griffin sat Baron Cedric, Baron of Nachtwald, and defender of the King’s peace.
Cedric, unlike his son, was tall and strongly built, with a thick neck and heavily muscled arms. His lined face was partially hidden by a growth of beard. Once a deep brown, it was now streaked with gray and cropped short, as was his thinning hair. He was clad in purple cloth, trimmed in gold, with a heavy bearskin cloak held in place by a griffin with rubies for eyes. He leaned forward, one elbow on the armrest of the chair and his chin in his hand. His dark eyes fixed on some distant point in time, lost in thought.
The baron’s steward, Sir Ardunn, sat next him. He was a tall, lanky man, with a long, narrow face who seldom smiled or showed emotion of any kind. He appeared to be addressing his lord on some important matter and neither of them had yet noticed the new arrivals.
Portia took in the room with her eyes, making note of the servants and guardsmen who were nearly always present, but what caught her attention was the presence of three armored men who sat at a trestle table, lunching on bread and cheese and drinking wine. The newcomers were knights, clad in woolen cloaks, chain mail, and white surcoats emblazoned with a ring of thorns. These were not just any knights, but members of the Order of the Holy Briar, landless knights who worshipped Nurta, the Enuran god of war and agriculture. The Briar Knights were renowned for their quests and good deeds. So what were they doing here in Nachtwald?
Beside the knights sat Father Moram, Nachtwald’s own priest of the Blessed Church of Aedon. Father Moram was old, with a smooth head surrounded by a half circle of silver hair in need of trimming. His face was weathered and deeply lined, but his eyes, the same gray as his voluminous robes, remained sharp and alert. He looked up as they approached and gave Portia an encouraging smile.
Close by the priest sat a small boy in a white linen shirt and breeches. The boy was around six years of age, near as she could tell, and almost hairless, with a smooth round head and eyes the color of minted go
ld. His name was Ren and, from what Portia had heard, he was a ward of the church who had been sent to Nachtwald for Father Moram to foster. She had never heard the boy talk and was not even sure he could, but he always smiled at her and, somehow, made her feel better, if only for a moment.
“My Lady,” said the priest, bowing his head toward her.
At that, the Briar Knights rose as well, wiping their mouths and bowing their heads in unison. The three eyed her like a prize pig at the fair. Portia was somewhat used to this by now, although she still found the attention unsettling. Since she had bloomed, men were always looking at her that way, as if she was something they wanted to possess. Even Finn looked at her a bit queerly from time to time. She knew what they were thinking, of course. Her Lady’s maids and nurses had long ago enlightened her on the matter of men’s desires, sharing their own sordid tales of late-night fumblings in the dark. She did her best to ignore them as she moved to the base of the dais, dragging Finn with her.
“...all dead,” Sir Ardunn was saying as they drew near. “The border guard believes it was the dark elves, working in league with a clan of orcs. Regardless, the pass is unprotected and has been for some time...”
Baron Cedric raised a hand, bringing the conversation to an end. His gaze locked on his children. He straightened in his chair, scowling down at them with disapproving eyes.
“More than an hour has passed since I summoned you here,” he said by way of greeting. “Next time I will send soldiers instead of a page and have you dragged before me.”
“Good afternoon, Lord Father.” Portia took the corners of her dress and bent her knees. “I did not mean to keep you waiting. It’s just—”
“And what are you doing here,” Cedric asked, ignoring Portia’s explanation and turning on Finn. “I don’t remember calling for you.”
“My lord.” Finn gave the slightest of bows. “You didn’t. It was mere fortune that I encountered Portia on the stairs. She mentioned that you had important news and I thought we should be together to receive it. We are family after all.”
“You thought,” Cedric snorted. “That seems unlikely. Wouldn’t your time be better spent on the practice field with the rest of the boys, rather than hiding in your chambers?”
“My lord,” Finn said again, “Sir Eris had me on the practice field early this morning for a most vigorous training session—”
“Training? Yes, I’ve heard about your recent exploits. Did you pay them all to stand aside? Where do you come by the money? Well, we’ll discuss that later.” His eyes swept over Finn’s attire and his jaw clenched. “And dressing like an undertaker is your idea of appropriate, is it? You don’t even wear the badge of our house, nor does your sister, I see.” He turned back to Portia, his frown deepening.
It occurred to Portia, not for the first time, that Baron Cedric was not a man who liked children. He had always seemed a bit perplexed by what to do with them. Since the death of their mother, servants and maids had filled the role of parents, with their lord father making only infrequent appearances between wars and visits to the capital. Was it any wonder that Portia and Finn had come to rely on each other, almost exclusively, and to view their father as an outsider and a threat?
“Now, my dear,” Cedric said, his voice softening. He turned his gaze on Portia, smiling ever so slightly. “I have a great surprise for you.”
Cedric stood and gestured to the three knights. “These gentlemen are here for you. They are Briar Knights, as well you can see, from the Abbey in Angolis. They have been traveling through Arkirius for some time and, most recently, were guests of Baron Guthmundus of Anhalth.
“Here for me,” Portia repeated, her voice small and distant.
“This is their captain, Sir Henri Billaud.” Sir Henri was a man of average height with long tawny hair and a boyish face, save for the thin growth of beard that covered his chin.
“My Lady,” he came forward and took her hand, “it is an honor to make your acquaintance.” He was a handsome man with brilliant green eyes and a warm smile. Portia felt a little thrill at his touch and the soft brush of his lips against her fingers.
“And this is Sir Jon Dailaru,” Cedric continued.
Sir Jon was a tall man with a lined face and thinning blond hair. His sparse beard had a hint of crimson, but was going white, and his eyes were glacial. “My Lady,” he said in a deep, resonant voice.
“And Sir Ducar an Cuvier,” Cedric finished.
Sir Ducar was a short round man, the youngest of the three knights, with a head of dark hair nearly as unruly as Finn’s, heavy brows, and a massive beard.
“My Lady.” A half smile quirked his lips as he bowed before her, one arm outstretched. “Your lord father spoke true. You are as lovely as a sunrise.”
“I am pleased to meet you,” Portia said, doing her best to remain gracious but feeling an insistent tug of worry in the back of her mind. Sir Henri released her hand and took a step back. Portia took a breath, rubbing her damp palms against her dress. “This is my brother, Finnan...” she paused, not quite knowing how to proceed.
“Sirs,” Finn bowed his head. “Welcome to Nachtwald.”
“Well,” Cedric said, “you’re probably wondering what this is all about.” He sat down again, the ancient chair creaking beneath his weight. “I have at last found a suitable husband for you, an amiable young man willing to put up with your rather unique nature. He has made his proposal and I have accepted on your behalf.”
A look of horror crept over Portia’s face. She opened her mouth to speak but no words came out. Finn looked at her and arched an eyebrow.
“These fine knights have been sent by Baron Guthmundus to escort you and your retinue to Anhalth. A suitable dowry is being arranged, of course, and plans for the ceremony are already under way. Father Moram has agreed to tutor you in the rights. He knows the priest in Anhalth and speaks well of him. You will exchange vows in the Blessed Church of Aedon, in Anhalth, at the end of the month.”
“But...” Portia stammered. “You had no right.”
“Right? I had every right,” Cedric narrowed his eyes, confusion written on his face. “I am your father.”
“Who? Who is it?” Portia asked.
“I beg your pardon.”
“Who is it I am to marry?”
“I know what you’re thinking,” Cedric held up a conciliatory hand, “and it is not Baron Guthmundus. It’s true, he was my first choice, well, most recent choice at any rate, but I have considered your objections and come to agree with you that he is too old. I hope to see grandchildren one day and—”
“But, Father, who is it you have chosen?”
“Oh yes.” Cedric shifted in his chair. “It is the baron’s nephew, Holt. He is 17 and a strapping lad—”
“Is that the one with the lazy eye,” Finn said, “or the one who got kicked in the head by a horse when he was 10? I hope it’s not the one who was kicked by the horse. He’s rather simple, isn’t he?”
The Briar Knights gave each other a wary glance and Sir Ducar snorted. Father Moram shook his head and looked at the floor. Portia shot Finn an angry look that showed no amusement whatsoever.
Cedric cleared his throat. “This union will cement a lasting bond between our two kingdoms and help assuage forty years of bloodshed and conflict.”
“Please, Father,” Portia said. “It can’t be Holt. I don’t think he even likes girls.”
“Oh, well yes, there’s that too,” Finn said.
Portia punched him on the arm hard enough to raise a new bruise to replace the one of those she had magicked away.
“Stop it, both of you,” Cedric said, annoyance warring with anger on his face. “Holt is a fine young man, strong and virile, with a bright future ahead of him. I have no doubt the two of you will get on well enough.”
Portia’s face burned and her shoulders trembled with barely contained rage.
“Don’t do anything foolish,” Finn whispered. “You know how he feels—”
>
“Father.” There was fury in Portia’s voice. “I would rather wed the baron’s horse. If you try to make me go through with this farce, I shall run away. I will kill myself before I marry some poof with a lazy eye!”
“So, it is the one with the eye.” Finn slapped his forehead.
Cedric rose to his feet, his face hot, his large hands knotted into fists.
“What is wrong with you?” he roared, addressing both of them at once, his eyes darting from one to the other. “I offer glad tidings, and you throw it back in my face as if I were a beggar asking for coins! I have given you every opportunity and consideration. Do you know what the world is like outside these walls? It is hard, cold, and merciless. I offer you a future most would kill for!”
“My lord,” Sir Ardunn said, “I’m sure that—”
“Not now.” Cedric cut him off with a sharp gesture. The baron fixed his gaze on Portia. “Dammit, Portia! This is a good match. You will have every luxury. Your sons will rule Anhalth one day. It is everything that a young woman could possibly want!”
“Not everything,” Portia said, her voice low.
“You will marry him,” Cedric continued. “You will do your duty to Nachtwald and to me. You have had more than enough time to play the petulant child. It is time for you to grow up. The deed is done, and I will speak no more of it.”
At that moment there was the sound of a horn. The sound reverberated off the walls of the great hall, three sharp blasts that cut the air like a knife. Cedric looked to his steward, but Sir Ardunn was already in motion. Father Moram rose slowly to his feet, placing a protective hand on Ren’s shoulder, and the three Briar Knights looked around in confusion.
The horn came again, three more blasts just as before.
“My lord?” Sir Henri asked, looking up at Cedric.
“Oh, thank Aedon and his Nine Valiants.” Finn smiled at Sir Henri. “In case you are wondering, that horn means we’re under attack.”
A Way with Magic (The Draakonor Chronicles Book 1) Page 6