by E. V. Greig
He had only ever seen glimpses of it; the face of a dark haired girl with eyes like his. She didn’t spend much time near mirrors and the river didn’t reflect quite so well. She looked happy though. Kalios envied her for that. And he had begun to form a plan for his escape - always providing that Eltornius did not kill him in the meantime.
∞∞∞
“You should eat something.”
Lonrari looked up from the alcove she had huddled into. Anthalia was standing in front of her, carrying a tray of fruit. There was no sign of Korius, who had left her line of sight some time ago. “Where is he?”
“He went to bed. It’s late after all – he was tired.” Anthalia moved a little closer and held out the tray. “I brought you fruit. I read that dryanthir like fruit. You have little shoots growing in your hair.” Anthalia smiled shyly. “They’re pretty.”
“Thank you. So – what are you to him?”
The young esthanth hunched her shoulders miserably. “He rescued me from Lady Agieta. She wants to have me as a slave but Korius refuses to agree to it. He takes care of me. He used to know my mother, and he promised her that he would always keep me safe.”
“I see. Well, perhaps he has a few good qualities after all then.” Lonrari tossed the tray aside and prowled out of the alcove. “I will be leaving now.”
“You can’t leave! It isn’t safe out there – anyone could see you!” Anthalia clutched at Lonrari’s arm. “Please stay – if you get caught they might kill you.”
“I have no intention of being captured,” Lonrari assured her. “And I refuse to be his latest trophy!”
“He isn’t like that, not once you get to know him.”
Lonrari seethed. “He almost loosened my teeth earlier! Not to mention his other appetites!”
“What other appetites? Do you mean the remedies he takes?”
“What remedies?”
“Narcotics.” Korius’ voice echoed from the doorway. “And I am a light sleeper even with them in my system.”
The two females spun to face him, Lonrari shrinking back despite herself. Anthalia gulped nervously. “Please don’t fight any more!”
“Go to bed,” Korius said quietly. “You need your rest, Anthalia.”
The child ducked her head shyly and fled from the room. Korius ruffled her hair gently as she went. Lonrari backed away from him. “Don’t touch me!”
Korius closed the door. “Would you like a drink? I have a rather fine flagon of wine that needs appreciation. It seems a pity for me to have to drink alone.”
Lonrari shook her head. “I need to go back – I have people who depend on me! Look – you obviously care about Anthalia. Well, there is a young woman for whom I am responsible, and who may be in mortal danger at this very moment! I must get back to her!”
“Must you? I suppose she is somewhere in the sacred Forest of Haph.” Korius was busy pouring himself a goblet of wine.
“I – no, actually she is in the Vale of Ryln. Now please, I must go to her!”
“Well, I suppose if it really is such an emergency then I might be persuaded to return you to whence you came from - for a price of course.” His dark violet eyes glinted in the candlelight. “The real question is whether or not you are prepared to pay.”
Lonrari shook her head. “I refuse to degrade myself! I am a priestess of Haph!”
“You mean you are one of the king’s unwitting handmaidens.”
“What – what do you mean by that?” A chill went through her as she recalled the events that had brought her there, and the words spoken by the black armoured sylvanth. If ever the dryanthir were to know that I have supplanted Haph and taken Her powers for myself, then there would be chaos! But I thought that he was lying...
“Well? Yes or no? To the wine, I mean. From the look on your face, I shall have no luck at prying your legs open.”
“Not even if the fate of my entire species were to be dependent upon it. And I really must return to the Vale.”
“Was that a no to the wine? And who is this young woman? Why is she so very important?”
Lonrari hesitated. “Trust for trust, blood cousin of my kin?”
“Well – this must be serious, for such archaic speech. Very well – trust given, as taken, and so forth. Now tell me who she is?”
“Her name is Kaiwan, daughter of Kyshaa and Davar. She is the Ca’Ryln.”
Korius stared at his new slave in stupefaction. For a long moment, neither of them spoke or moved. Finally, he set down his drink and stood up. Stepping forward, he cupped Lonrari’s chin between his hands and tilted her face up. She flinched angrily; averting her gaze. Korius smirked. “You were the defender of the Ca’Ryln?”
“Yes. But she is missing!”
“Little wonder that the king is angry! He is not perfect – nevertheless he desires that the Ca’Ryln be protected.”
Lonrari snarled and jerked away from him. “What do you mean?”
“The king has long worked to protect the Ca’Ryln. He is not utterly mad, and so he would see the Vor’Barysk defeated.” Korius shrugged. “Naturally he must now be incandescent at your ineptitude. Still, she must at least be alive, or else he would have slain you on the spot!” He stepped forward again, and stroked her hair. “Why what is this? Poor Wildheart: you are terrified – sick at the very thought of my embrace! I do not understand your distaste – have you a mate already? Are you foresworn or with child?”
“No mate, no child.”
“Then why do you tremble so? Why fear what is for both our peoples the most natural act known?”
Lonrari blinked back tears. “Not for all of us!”
The Ves’Neryn sighed. “There is a spare chamber next to my own which you may have. Here is the key, broken one! I’ll not be a party to whatever torments have been inflicted upon you. There is a limit to the evil that I can stomach.”
He strode swiftly from the room and was gone into the murky shadows of the main hallway before Lonrari could reply. She looked down at the key that he had pressed into her hand: a key to a door that she could lock and unlock as she saw fit. Not that any mere door would stop one who could journey through the shadows at will. Still, at least he had made the gesture.
Chapter Seven
Captain Marquand Elharan looked up from where he was oiling his daggers. The rescue party had at last returned, along with Hugo, a young boy and a woman. More waifs needing sanctuary…all in all, a typical day at Briersburge, the aged guardsman thought, wryly.
“Now there’s a pretty lass and no mistake!” Gyrfalcon observed from his own seat. The lanky par’dath sighed wistfully. “If only my heart were not already forsworn to the service of our fair mistress!” He belched and laughed.
“And prithee when has that ever previously prevented you from partaking in the pursuit of a pretty personage of the feminine persuasion, my piratical companion?” The third of their group was tall and slender. His graceful figure was swathed in black from head to toe, all except for his face, which was hidden behind a gleaming silver mask. Just now, he was sharpening a long wooden stake. There were already five others hanging from his belt.
“Misericord, you wound me!” Gyrfalcon wiped an imagined tear from his cheek and then grinned a little too toothily. His green eyes twinkled beneath his gnarled horns; a vivid contrast to the purple hue of his skin. “I only have eyes for one fair wench…at a time.”
Elharan sighed and shook his head. “And who are you courting now, Heideir? It had better not be that scullery maid I saw you with this morning – her husband and four brothers might have quite an opinion on that!” He allowed himself a thin smile as Gyrfalcon blanched.
“Tik-Tik tried to warn you that she was trouble,” chirped their smallest companion, from his perch on the back of Gyrfalcon’s chair. The curious looking little creature was covered in bright lilac and blue striped fur, with a red crest and beady yellow eyes. He wore a simple white linen loincloth and numerous gold bracelets. His pointy teeth and ringed
tail still made Elharan think of a very small and vividly coloured tiger. “Why Gyrfalcon never listen to Tik-Tik?”
“Because I keep hoping that you’re just a figment of my imagination!” Gyrfalcon retorted, almost pathetically. “Why don’t you go and follow someone else for a while, you silly little squirrel-cat?”
“Great Frog Spirit told Tik-Tik to watch over big dumb pirate!” Tik-Tik leaned forward and snatched Gyrfalcon’s flagon from the table, lapping up the contents voraciously.
Elharan turned his attention back to where the rescue party was now dismounting. “I think I had best go and see who these newcomers are.” So saying, he rose to his feet and ambled over to where Lady Naomi was busy welcoming the two strangers to her keep. They were all speaking in Anthiri – it had been a while since Elharan had needed to speak that tongue and he had to concentrate hard on just what was being said.
“This is Kaiwan and the boy is named Althanor.”
“Greetings, and welcome to Briersburge. I am Lady Naomi Du’Valle.”
Kaiwan bowed her head. “Thank you for your hospitality, Lady Naomi. Will the master of this place give us sanctuary? We have no guardians at present: Althanor is not of age and I am of course only a woman.”
“What do you mean by guardians?” Hugo had a sudden awful feeling that he was not going to like her answer.
“I am female and unwed, with no living kin, and Althanor is a child. You rescued us and brought us here. By the laws of our people, we belong to you or to your liege lord, if you have one.”
Elharan recognized the look on Naomi’s face – he had seen it all too often by now. The mistress of the keep was not amused. She drew in a low, hissing sort of breath and rather absently twisted a fold of her skirt in her hands. “Our people abandoned such archaic notions generations ago. I hope that you will come to see that for yourself soon, Kaiwan. But in the meantime, Hugo shall be responsible for the pair of you. Never let it be said that I do not respect local traditions!”
So saying, Naomi turned on her heel and strode off, her hound padding along beside her. Hugo was left wondering just what it was that he had done to deserve such a heavy responsibility.
Elharan cleared his throat and nodded to Hugo. “You’ll need a task to be earning your crust by. I can make use of you in the guard.”
Hugo scowled darkly and shook his head. “I’m a smith, not a soldier. I’ll spill no more blood.”
“We’ve plenty of smiths already.” Elharan kept his tone perfectly neutral.
“None like me.” There was a hint of pride to the man’s voice now.
Elharan shrugged and held up his hands. “Alright then – I’ll give you one week to prove your words. After that, you had better be good with a pike.”
“I’ll only need three days, and a forge.” Hugo squared his shoulders and flung back his hair. Sweat and ichor spattered the cobblestones behind him. Several of the younger maidservants whispered and stared in open admiration.
Kaiwan had merely wrinkled her nose at the smell, and Elharan was hard put to hide a smile at her honesty. “You can have the old smithy by the west gate – near the stables. It needs cleaning, mind you, and the fire has been cold for almost a decade now. Do you think it will suffice?”
Hugo nodded. “I can get the fire relit. As to the cleaning – well, the girl can see to that, seeing as how she is part of my household now.” He caught hold of Kaiwan and dragged her along with him to the cottage. “Get to work then. I’ll see you both at mealtimes. Make sure the boy rests for today, at least. Tomorrow, he’ll have plenty to occupy his thoughts. He’ll work the bellows for me. I’ll teach him smithing – it’s an honest trade.”
“He cannot work with cold iron – it would poison him, for he is anth blooded.” Kaiwan ducked her head nervously.
Their new guardian frowned and then nodded, shoving Kaiwan towards the scullery. “You did well to inform me of that. I’ll be careful of it. We eat at sunset. Have the table scrubbed, the floor swept and fetch us a meal from the main keep. Tomorrow you cook, so make certain the pantry is fit for storing food in and that the stove is hot. And sort out the beds whilst you’re about it.” He stalked out to the forge.
Kaiwan looked around her at the dusty stone walls and cobwebbed rafters. There was a narrow flight of steps leading up to a second floor. Presumably the sleeping area was up there. The stove dominated the main room, save for a large oak table and two long benches. There was also a sturdy oak door that opened onto a second stairwell – this one leading down into the pantry. She decided to clean the upstairs first. At least that way, Althanor could get some sleep. “Come on – let us go get some water and rags.”
“Do we have to?” Althanor sounded exhausted. “Why not just use sylth?”
Kaiwan frowned. “I suppose I could do that – at least for the upstairs. Then you could get some rest. Would you like that?”
“I don’t care.” The boy was half scared and half sulking now. “He told you to clean it anyhow, not me.” He sat down in a corner and closed his eyes. “I want my father.”
"I know you do. You just rest – I will clean the house.” She set to work knocking down the worst of the cobwebs with an old broomstick that had been propped up in a corner of the main room. Next she swept the floors and opened up the shutters to air the long abandoned dwelling. The table needed soap and water; that much was obvious. As for the stove…well, perhaps Hugo knew how to repair such things. Otherwise she could not cook for him. I hope he is not angry when I tell him. “Althanor – come with me to the kitchens! I must ask for something for our supper.”
"Alright – but I’m not carrying anything,” Althanor said flatly, getting to his feet and following her across the courtyard. His eyes were moist from sobbing silently into his sleeve. Mother is dead.
Kaiwan knew better than to hug him. Althanor had his father’s temper and sought affection only on his terms. Besides which, there were people watching them and she didn’t wish to embarrass the boy. She wondered if anyone in the kitchens would speak Anthir. Hugo obviously expected her to manage, one way or the other. Kaiwan doubted that he would be happy to go without food.
The kitchens bustled with activity; the air heavy with the smells of cooking and the sounds of clanging pots and pans. Over it all a woman could be heard singing – pausing occasionally to shout instructions in that strange tongue Hugo had used. Kaiwan was almost afraid to enter. Instead she stood in the doorway staring, Althanor peering around her waist.
“You two look lost. Need someone to translate, do you?”
Kaiwan turned and saw the old guardsman who had spoken to Hugo. He smiled at them – a thin smile that nonetheless lit his grey eyes. “I – we do not speak your language.” She blushed.
“Not to worry, lass. The name’s Elharan, by the way. I’m the captain of the guard here at Briersburge. Now then – let me see about talking to the cook for you.” He disappeared inside. Minutes later he was back with a steaming tureen of broiled meat and vegetables balanced in the crook of one arm and a loaf in the other. “Have you spoons and such?”
“Yes – in the main room. I found some plates in a sideboard. There were spoons and knives there too. Where can I get soap and water?”
Elharan grunted. “I see he has you hard at work. Well, mayhap that’s no bad thing. I’ll send a lad over with soap. You can get water from the wells – we have six of them, fed from a spring deep in the bedrock of the keep. Damned if Lord Ranulf didn't bring half the mountain along with us. Anyhow, I’ll show you the nearest well on the way back.”
“Thank you.” Kaiwan kept close to Elharan as they crossed the courtyard. She was unnerved by her surroundings; there were more people here than she had ever seen before. Althanor hung back and dragged his feet. He was scowling behind his long golden hair, but his trembling ears belied his bravado.
Hugo was already hard at work within the forge and appeared to be oblivious to their return. Kaiwan set to work scrubbing down the rest of the dwelling w
hilst Althanor returned to his corner. He was still there when their rescuer finally entered the main room in search of food. Kaiwan hurried to set out the dishes. She kept her voice low when she spoke: wary of offending either of them. “Supper is ready. Althanor, come to the table.”
“Alright – if I must.” He slunk to one of the benches and sat down.
Hugo was already seated opposite him, gulping down broth. “Huh – I hope you can cook this well, girl.”
“I can try.” Kaiwan sat down next to Althanor and began to eat. “The stove is need of repair though.”
“I’ll see to it tonight. Leave me out a lamp to see by after you wash the supper dishes. You and the boy should turn in early. I’ll be up once I’ve finished my work.”
∞∞∞
Kaiwan and Althanor spent their first night at Briersburge huddled together beneath a ragged blanket in the small, dark, bedroom of the cottage that was attached to the forge. Hugo spent it working. His hammering echoed through the keep. Althanor cried himself to sleep eventually, but Kaiwan remained awake; her eyes never leaving the doorway that led to the stairwell.
At last, just as the first birds began their morning song, there was silence in the cottage. Kaiwan swallowed hard and drew Althanor closer to her. The boy whimpered fitfully in his sleep. His face was haunted, even as he slept. Kaiwan swore inwardly that she would not let anything else happen to harm him.
Then the lanky figure of their rescuer appeared in the doorway. He was illuminated by the faint glow from a candle. Kaiwan shuddered as she realised he could see her watching him. “Come here.” His voice was harsh; the Anthiri language did not appear to rest easily upon his lips, as Luath would have said.