by Jane Glatt
Brotherhood of the Throne
Book 2
Healer
Jane Glatt
Copyright © 2012 Roberta Jane Glatt
Jane Glatt Enterprises Inc.
www.Janeglatt.com
ISBN 978-0-9880291-1-8
All Rights Reserved worldwide under the Berne Convention. No part of this document or the related files may be reproduced or transmitted in any form, by any means (electronic, photocopying, recording, or otherwise) without the prior written permission of the publisher.
All characters appearing in this work are fictitious. Any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.
One
Brenna could hear them outside the tent. She could always hear them, even at night before she dropped into exhausted sleep. A steady rumble like the sound the Upper Seven River made during an especially strong spring run off. But this was a river of voices - whispers, shouts, pleas, whimpers. And above it all, she could hear the high-pitched crying of children. She tied her hair back with a piece of twine that still smelled of lavender, a reminder of the gentle spring just past when she’d picked the flowers in the mountain meadows.
Her right arm and shoulder ached from the constant grinding - the smooth handle of the pestle was slick in her fingers. She’d been up since before dawn and had worked for nearly six hours straight making poultices and tonics. Hordes of refugees were pouring across the border into Aruntun - hungry, exhausted and many with injuries they’d gotten as they fled. Even worse, there was an outbreak of influenza and the relatively healthy needed help. She muttered newly learned spells and incantations while she worked, hoping that the combination of old steel and magic would help the medicines work faster and better, allowing their meager supplies to stretch a little further. But she knew that the medicines were the least of their worries.
The tent flap opened and Brenna glanced up to see Laurel step inside. She sent the other Seer a wan smile and bent back over her work.
“I should have another dozen doses for influenza patients in a few minutes,” Brenna said. “After that I’ll work on some more salve for infections. Use it on those with eye and mouth problems first. The feet will just have to wait.”
Laurel nodded and slumped into the chair beside the worktable. “Another five families just came in. This time from Kingsreach.” She tiredly dragged her hand through her hair. “One is a mother with five children, three of them under five. We ran out of blankets last night so I’ve doubled them up with some of the first to arrive. I don’t know how they make it this far.”
“People can do just about anything if they’re desperate enough,” Brenna said grimly. “The stories they tell are bad but I keep thinking of all the people who haven’t made it here.” She scraped the contents of the mortar into a metal pot filled with water.
“This needs to boil for five minutes. When it’s cooled you can start passing it around. No more than two sips per person, mind, so we can stretch it to treat as many as possible.”
Laurel rose stiffly. She stretched her arms over her head and looked into the pot. “If it doesn’t rain soon we’ll be out of water,” she said.
Brenna looked up in surprise. “I thought we had enough for another week?”
“We did,” Laurel nodded. “But we’ve almost doubled our numbers in the last three days alone.”
Brenna’s heart sank and she sat down heavily. “That many? It’s hard enough to try to keep them alive on the little food we have. Without water they won’t last more than a day or two.” Her pain was reflected in Laurel’s eyes. “The babies will be first. I can’t watch that, I can’t, I can’t.”
Brenna felt herself being shaken and the details of the room became fuzzy.
“Brenna, get control,” she heard Laurel say. “Get control now.”
Brenna reacted to the command in the voice and she focused. Soon her breathing leveled out and she opened her eyes to reality - the small cabin and Laurel’s worried face peering at her from across the table.
She shivered with relief and pulled the thick shawl tighter around her shoulders. Just a vision, she thought, babies aren’t dying. She looked at Laurel, as always slightly disconcerted to see her brown and green gaze reflected back by the other Seers’ brown and blue.
“It took longer than it should for you to come back from it,” Laurel said, concern in her voice. She let go of Brenna’s shoulders and leaned back in her chair, a puzzled look on her face. “I wish we knew what family you were from. It would help us if we had some background on how your Seeings manifest, what kind of time we have between a vision and the event so we can hopefully change it.”
Brenna looked up at that. “You mean there’s a chance we can’t change anything?” She was horrified. She’d assumed that they could use the visions as a warning and make sure there was a different outcome. What if they couldn’t stop it from happening?
She’d had versions of this same vision every day for the past five days and each time things in the camp got a little worse. This had been the worst one yet. They had to have time, they just had to. “I have a better idea of where, now. This time in the vision you said some families came from Kingsreach. That should help, shouldn’t it? In the other visions the refugees were all from Comack.”
“Hmm,” Laurel ran a finger over the smooth wood of the chair arm. “That does seem to rule out the north. No one comes to Aruntun from Kingsreach that way.” She smiled at Brenna. “Except you, of course.”
Brenna drew her shawl tighter. Despite the warm fire the small cabin still felt cold. “It must be close by.” She stood and walked to the map of Soule she’d pinned to the wall by the hearth - it was the same one she’d taken from the Collegium library so many months ago when she and Kane had set out on their flight from Kingsreach.
“If we go west from here,” her finger drew line from the spot on the map marked Lakeview Village. “And a little south around the foothills we are at the border with Comack right here.” Her finger jabbed at a spot on the map. “Or somewhere around there.”
“Anywhere around there.” Laurel joined her to study the map. “Or from there to the Southern Sea.”
Brenna, finger still on the map, reached out with her Seer abilities. Nothing. She’d hoped that she would somehow get a sign or signal to tell her the location.
“Wait a minute.” She paused, trying to recall more details of her vision. “I think it was summer. Yes, it was summer. I was remembering how I’d picked lavender in the spring.”
“But is it this summer?” Laurel asked.
“Yes. I was using some healing spells I’d just learned and I’m to start learning magic this spring.” Brenna spun around, excited. “And my hair was longer,” her hand rested high on her shoulder, at least two inches lower than where her hair hung to at the moment, “it came down to here. I know because I tied it back. Will this be enough information for the duchess?”
Laurel nodded. “Yes, I think this will be enough for mother. I’ll send a message to her at once that we need to be prepared to handle refugees from both Comack and Kingsreach by summer.” Laurel sighed. “I wish I could See this, but my visions are about events I can affect so I have to assume I can’t stop this from happening. How many refugees should I tell my mother to plan for, five hundred?”
Brenna shook her head. “More, I think, a lot more - one thousand, maybe two and as many again in Fallad. Ask Duchess Avery to warn Duke Ewart to expect the same along his border.”
“So many?” Laurel whispered, her face pale. “Why can’t we See what drives them here? How can we stop it if we don’t know the cause? ”
Brenna spent the rest of
the day fussing over her herbs. She still had most of her supply since the small village of Lakeview had only rarely required her healing skills over the past few months. Still, the one promising part of her vision had her out collecting medicinal plants in the spring. Unless this part of the future changed when Laurel contacted her mother, Duchess Avery.
She was beginning to share Laurel’s frustration about not knowing which family of Seers she belonged to. Anything to help decipher the visions would be useful.
Laurel had been teaching her how to manage and control her Seer abilities for the past three months, ever since Kane left for Fallad the week before midwinter. What if, like Laurel, she could stop her visions from coming true? Brenna shook her head. She still didn’t know why refugees were crossing the border or what they were running from. Without that information, she had no idea what to do to stop it. All they could do is prepare for it when it happened. At least that was something.
Brenna touched the knife at her belt and let her awareness expand outward. She rarely let herself reach for old steel, and then only gently. She and Kane had agreed not to reveal the Brotherhood of the Throne or the fact that she had been identified as the heir to the prophecy until they understood how the Brotherhood fit into the politics of Aruntun. As well, Brenna’s strength with magic had caused alarm amongst their Aruntian hosts - it would be better if she simply followed their advice and let them train her to use her talents. She hadn’t yet started her magical training so she had no idea how obvious her use of magic would be. She felt safe enough passively looking for old steel, checking on her friends and companions in the Brotherhood, but she dared not contact any of them, even Kane, for fear that Aruntian witches would detect it. When she and Kane had first crossed into Aruntun she’d been considered a threat - she wasn’t sure that had changed.
Brenna finished retying a bundle of fragrant lemon balm and placed it in a box on top of the worktable. She absently brushed a few loose leaves off the tabletop, her hand passing over assorted burn marks and cutting scars.
“This table was in the vision,” she said, turning to where Laurel sat knitting by the fire. “I only just now recognized these marks on top.”
“That’s good,” Laurel replied. “It means the camp is very close to here. I can’t imagine even you dragging that table too far in these hills.”
Brenna smiled gently and walked over to sit in the chair across from Laurel. The cabin was small by Kingsreach standards, but it was one of the bigger houses in Lakeview. It had a large kitchen and sitting area as well as a separate sleeping chamber on the first floor. A sturdy ladder led to the loft where Brenna preferred to sleep. Most houses in the village had only a single floor.
When she’d arrived late in the fall Brenna had thought the town looked small and mean. She’d assumed the lack of windows and small building sizes had meant the town was poor. It took the first snowstorm of the season for her to realize that the houses were built to take advantage of any heat the hearth gave off. Nestled as they were in the foothills of the Seven Sisters, between the high, rounded mountain peaks and the plains of rich farmland, the weather in winter was a combination of cold, dry, winds whistling north from the sea across miles and miles of flat land, and the swirling snow-laden winds that came over the mountain to dump their loads on the town.
“I know you said that there are only six Seer families but could there be one that’s been missed?” Brenna asked. “One that died out a long time ago or one where a single person moved to Comack or Fallad?” She and Laurel had been over this many times before but she kept coming back to it. Without explaining her blood ties to both the Duke of Comack and the Duke of Fallad, Brenna wanted to be certain that her Seer abilities came from her mother. That would mean either her grandmother or grandfather came from one of the six families.
“No, there have only ever been the six.” Laurel smiled at her. “And we keep very careful records of where and who they marry. I can’t think of anyone in over four generations who has moved out of Aruntun. Why would they? Here they are appreciated, in the rest of Soule they would be persecuted.”
“Can you tell from my eye colors?”
“I’m sorry,” Laurel said. “Eye colors have more to do with the strength of your gift than they do the family.”
“And blue and green is the strongest.”
“Yes. But we haven’t had a Seer with the blue and green pairing since Aruntun, over two thousand years ago,” Laurel said. “And we’ve tried.”
“I don’t understand.” Brenna was puzzled. “Aren’t Seers born? How can you try?” As soon as she asked, she knew the answer. “You breed Seers?”
“Well, it’s not quite like that.” Laurel smiled gently at her. “We don’t force anyone but we do want to keep the ability as strong as possible. As I said, we keep excellent records. It wouldn’t be healthy to intermarry too much but within the six families it is understood that to marry a Seer, or to produce a child who has the gift is beneficial for that family and the Duchy.” Laurel caught her eye. “I’ll warn you, word of a new Seer with the second strongest gift and no apparent ties to any existing family will spread quickly.” She laughed. “I wager there will be more than one young man on our doorstep as soon as the snow melts.”
“What?” Brenna asked, eyes wide. “But what if I don’t want them to come?”
“Don’t worry,” Laurel said. “Your suitors will all be very polite and eager to please. Who knows, mayhap one will catch your fancy? Although there is your Kane to think about.” Laurel got up and headed for the kitchen.
Brenna slumped in her chair. Suitors! She could imagine what Kane would think about Aruntian suitors. Slowly, a smile spread across her face. Yes, she could imagine what Kane would think about her suitors.
Kane tugged his gloves on over his still cold hands. He’d only spent a few minutes inside the new barracks but he was already late for his meeting with Dasid and the rest of the council of the Brotherhood of the Throne. He quickly strode across the practice field, eying the current crop of beginner swordsmen. Some looked like they were familiar with a sword, at least.
The Brotherhood had built its training facility in Fallad, as far from Kingsreach and Comack as possible while still being on the main trade route. They were about fifteen days march from Silverdale town but a man with a sturdy horse could travel it in less than five days, whatever the weather, as Kane had just proven.
Sergeant Murdoch, his Weapons Master when he was Captain of the Kingsguard, had accomplished a lot since he’d arrived late last summer. Kane had been told that Brothers from all over the north of Fallad had arrived to help put the school together. Woodcutters and carpenters from the Western Forest had descended on the spot bringing with them logs already cut and dressed as well as cabinets and furniture. Once the buildings were up, farmers and merchants had arrived to fill the storerooms with food and fuel for the winter and supply the lamps and bedding the one hundred recruits required. When Dasid had arrived with books borrowed from the libraries in both the Collegium and Silverdale, they had been ready for the recruits.
The first batch of recruits, mostly from Kingsreach, had arrived in late October. They’d spent four months undergoing extensive training before being sent home to make way for the current, recently arrived group.
Kane opened the wooden door that led to the offices and classrooms. He stamped the snow from his boots, closed the door on the chill air and turned down a hallway. The last door was open and he entered the room, shrugged off his cloak, pulled his gloves off and stuffed them into his belt.
“Well, Murdoch.” Kane hung his cloak on a hook next to four others and stepped over to warm his hands by the hearth. “You’ve made a lot of progress in a few short months. The new recruits are from the north, are they?” Kane looked up and met the eyes of the sergeant, a wiry soldier with close-cropped gray hair and a straight back despite over forty years in the Kingsguard.
Sergeant Murdoch nodded. “Aye. All from the Western Forest.
A good batch of archers, too. We sent the first lot from Kingsreach home telling them we was done for the winter, just in case any of them fall in with Westley Stobert and his men.”
“Good,” Kane said. “We need to do everything we can do to keep our actual strength and readiness from Thorold. Are the rest in there already?” Kane motioned to the closed door that backed off the room and the older man nodded. “I guess we should get to it, then.”
When the rough-hewn door opened, all three men sitting around the table looked up.
“Dasid,” Kane said. “It’s good to see you again.”
Dasid stood and Kane gripped his outstretched hand. He hadn’t seen him since he and Brenna had left Kingsreach six months ago, and he’d rarely seen his former second in command out of uniform.
“You’ve grown your hair,” Kane said as he stepped back to look. Dasid’s once bristling hair now covered his head in thick salt and pepper curls.
“It seems to be a good disguise.” Dasid ran a hand through his hair. “I’d kept it short for so long no one suspected I had such curls.”
“Including him, I’m afraid.” Came dryly from the other side of Dasid. “And Dasid won’t say it, but I’ve a feeling his hair is greatly admired by some of the ladies in Fallad.”
Kane hid a smile as Dasid’s face reddened slightly. “Ewart,” he turned to face his boyhood friend. “I’m very glad you could make it.”
“Yes, well, I’ll not let it be said the Falladian Dukes completely let their people down, although it seems so in the last few years.”
“You’re here now, and that’s what matters.” Kane clasped Ewart’s hand and turned to the last man in the room.
“Guild Master Brunger, well met.” Kane nodded to the merchant. “I apologize for being late but I wanted to take a quick look around the school.” Kane expected the meeting to run late and he needed to leave early the next morning. Unless he wanted to view the barracks while it was full of sleeping recruits, this had been his only chance to look.