by Callie Kanno
“Of course, your highness,” Samnis replied with a bow.
“I look forward to seeing you then,” Lenora said with a nod, effectively dismissing the man from her presence.
Lord Samnis bowed a second time, then returned to the marketplace they had just left. Idris watched the man walk away, resisting the urge to throw a pebble at his head.
That would be something to see, Iona chuckled.
“Idris,” Lenora murmured softly.
Her voice brought him around, anchoring him against the anger that washed through his thoughts. It soothed him as effectively as if she had reached out to touch him.
“I am sorry,” he apologized. “I embarrassed you when I spoke out like that.”
She shook her head. “Do not worry about that. It will give me a convenient excuse should anyone ask why I have new guards tomorrow.”
They continued along the street, not going anywhere in particular. Idris scowled at the ground. “I cannot believe what that man said,” he raged. “He made it sound like everyone in Calaris is out to pick fights and cause trouble.”
“You should not care what he thinks,” Lenora reasoned. “He is just one man.”
“But he represents the mindset of the Roshumin nobility, perhaps the regular citizens as well,” argued Idris.
“You cannot assume that his opinion is shared,” she maintained.
“I was there,” Idris choked on the strength of his emotion. “I heard the soldiers say they had the support of the king of Roshum. I had to protect a six-year-old girl from being murdered, just because King Nikolas is her father.”
Lenora grasped his arm firmly. “I believe you, Idris,” she assured him.
Idris felt strangely deflated. “Everyone should believe me,” he said wearily, “and yet everyone in this city would call me a liar.”
“Not everyone,” the princess murmured.
“Can we go back to the manor?” Idris asked, sounding a bit like a lost child. “I do not want to see any more of Bunarat.”
Lenora nodded. “Yes,” she agreed. “Let us go sit in the garden for a while.”
Idris wanted to feel happy about the prospect, but the shadow over his heart was too thick for him to shift.
Chapter Thirty-Five: Parting Ways
“Whenever King Lot hosts a party such as the one tonight,” the Breenite ambassador explained to his guests, “there is a grand procession that circles the palace before anyone enters. This gives the citizens of Bunarat the chance to see all of the finery, and it gives the nobles a chance to flaunt their wealth to each other.”
Hildar snorted, muttering under her breath. “Ridiculous.”
The ambassador didn’t disagree with her. He simply shrugged. “It provides an excellent opportunity for you to leave the city while everyone had their attention elsewhere.”
“Good,” Cowan approved. “We will leave as soon as it begins.”
“I will have your horses waiting for you,” promised the ambassador, “along with some fresh supplies. You have half an hour before the procession starts.”
Idris experience a rush of panic. A half hour wasn’t very much time. How could he be expected to say a proper goodbye to Lenora without sounding like a fool?
Do not waste time worrying about it down here, Iona advised.
Knowing she was right, Idris raced up the stairs to Lenora’s room at the end of the hall. He felt a sudden surge of confidence as he knocked, but it promptly abandoned him when he heard Lenora’s voice. “Come in.”
The princess’s room was the most opulent in the entire manor. Everything was trimmed with gold and crystal, even the boot scrapers in the corner. Fresh flowers stood in delicate vases on marble stands around the room, gently perfuming the air. Lenora sat on a fur-lined chair while a serving maid wove jewels into her hair.
“Oh,” Idris stammered, blushing furiously. “I did not realize you were still getting ready.”
Lenora was perfectly modest, but the idea of her sitting before him in nothing but a silken robe made him feel that he should turn his back to her. “Do you want me to leave?” he asked her.
She laughed softly. “Do not be silly. Come sit by me.”
The serving maid pulled another plush chair over to the table where Lenora’s jewelry and makeup were all laid out. Idris sat down rather awkwardly, uncertain what to do with his hands. Lenora solved his dilemma by handing him something. “Here,” she said, “this is for you.”
It was the length of rough cloth that she had purchased at the market. He turned it over in his hands, noting that she had embroidered one corner with an elaborate ‘I’ surrounded by scrollwork. “Thank you,” Idris said in a bewildered tone.
“You can use it to wrap your partisan,” Lenora explained. “I know you lost your leather cover in Koyo.”
“Thank you,” he repeated, this time with astonishment that she remembered such things.
“You are welcome,” she replied simply.
Idris felt the cloth with the judgment of a farmer, one who values function over aesthetics. It was strong—made to last. She had chosen well for its intended purpose. “I did not get you anything,” he admitted, feeling self-conscious.
Lenora shook her head. “I did not expect you to. I just wanted to give you something to help with this last leg of your journey.”
“I wish I had, though,” Idris maintained.
The princess shrugged. “Perhaps you can give me something when I come to Marath.”
He perked up immediately. “You are coming to Marath?”
“I think so,” Lenora said, glancing down demurely. “It has been too long since I saw my cousins. It is important for us to create strong family ties. That is what keeps alliances functioning.”
“Yes,” Idris agreed solemnly, even though his insides were dancing like a gleeful child, “it is in the best interest of both Breen and Calaris.”
“Exactly,” Lenora said with a hint of a smile playing about her lips.
Idris furrowed his brow as a new thought occurred to him. “Do you know how one would go about setting up a Wordway?”
“It takes a great deal of coin to build one from nothing,” Lenora told him. “The birds must be bred, trainers must be hired, facilities must be constructed, and so on.”
“I think it would be worth it,” Idris mused to himself. “I could put one in Rest Stone Valley.”
Lenora looked amused. “I do not think a farming community could afford to build a Wordway.”
“I could use the funds allotted to me by King Nikolas,” Idris answered simply. “I have not used them for anything yet.”
“Does the king pay his soldiers so well?” laughed the princess.
Idris’s eyes widened as he remembered he had never told certain facts to Lenora. “Oh…uh…well, I guess I should mention that this last winter King Nikolas named me…Lord of Rest Stone Valley.”
Lenora’s jaw dropped in a most unladylike manner. “You are a lord?”
“I am still just a farmer, really. Head farmer, over the other farmers in that area,” Idris said, feeling uncomfortable.
“But you have the title?” she prodded.
“Yes,” admitted Idris.
A stunning smile bloomed over Lenora’s face. “Do you realize what this means?”
Idris shook his head, frowning.
“You are a landowner with the title of lord,” she explained. “That makes you high gentry. Members of the high gentry can marry members of nobility without special permission from the king.”
Idris didn’t understand why this news was particularly exciting. It wasn’t as if he wanted to marry someone like Hildar. “I see,” he said slowly.
A blush colored Lenora’s cheeks as she lowered her eyes to stare at her hands. “A princess may be royalty in her own country, but she is only considered nobility while in a foreign land.”
Idris suddenly felt something hard blocking his throat. He found it difficult to breath and almost impossible to swallo
w. “Oh,” was all he managed to say.
Lenora’s expression rapidly morphed into embarrassment. “I do not mean to imply…that is, I would never assume…”
He hurried to interrupt her. “I understand, Lenora. It is simply nice to know that there are more possibilities for the future.”
She looked relieved. “Yes,” she sighed. “That is all I meant.”
“When I get home, I will have a Wordway built in Rest Stone Valley,” Idris resolved. “It would be a wonderful resource for everyone in that area. And it would make it easier for me to send letters abroad, if I wanted to do so.”
“I hope you do,” Lenora replied.
“Will you send me a regular letter when you return home?” Idris asked her. “I will need help in getting started on the Wordway.”
“I will write you often,” promised Lenora.
“Forgive me, your highness,” the serving maid ventured, “but I have finished with your hair, and it is time for you to dress.”
Idris stood hurriedly. “I need to go anyway. Captain Cowan will be wondering where I have gone.” He held up the length of cloth. “Thank you for this.”
Lenora gave him a lingering smile. “Until we meet again, Idris.”
“Safe travels,” he returned, instantly cringing that he sounded like a bumpkin.
Idris made a hasty retreat, feeling the urge to knock his head against the wall. Iona, on the other hand, seemed to be vastly amused. Not bad for your first romantic farewell, she commented.
“Oh, be quiet,” he muttered as he walked down the hall.
Aherin was waiting for Idris at the top of the stairs with a sly grin on his face. “The captain told me to come find you, but I thought it best not to disturb.”
Idris blushed while smiling rather foolishly. “Nothing happened,” he insisted.
“Of course not,” Aherin replied with a teasing tone. “You are much too principled for such things.”
“Her maid was in the room with us,” Idris pointed out.
Aherin nodded solemnly. “As is proper, m’lord.”
Idris punched his friend playfully on the shoulder, but the conversation ended there. Hildar was waiting for them by the entrance, looking out of humor. “What is taking you so long?” she demanded.
Without listening for an answer, she stormed outside to where the others were standing by the horses. Cowan gave the two young men a questioning glance, but didn’t say anything about their delay in joining the group. “We will exit Bunarat through the northern road. Keep a steady pace and speak as little as possible. We are trying to avoid drawing attention to ourselves. Kurag, you will walk in between our horses. If no one looks too closely, it will appear that you are also on horseback. Idris, regarding your uncovered weapon-”
Idris held up the cloth in his hand. “I have a solution for that, sir.”
Cowan nodded his approval. “Very well. Everyone mount up.”
Taking the length of rough cloth, Idris bound up the head of his partisan, hiding its wealth of jewels from outside observers. When the embroidered corner was all that remained loose, he tucked it under one of the folds. It wasn’t as secure as the fitted leather cover he had lost, but it would do for now.
With the partisan returned to the holder on his back, Idris swung up into the saddle of his mare. Kurag took his place in the center as the four members of the Royal Guard rode away from the manor of the Breenite ambassador.
The advice they had been give was sound—the city streets did seem rather empty. The passerbys they did meet were all hurrying to the center of Bunarat where the parade would take place. No one seemed to care about the small group of travelers.
“How long is the journey to the mountains?” Idris asked Kurag in a low voice.
“About a week,” answered the Forger.
Idris held back a sigh. A week of travel was a long time for his mind to dwell on the absence of Lenora. He wished that there was some way for them to arrive sooner. He knew he would not feel so forlorn if he could only keep busy.
“A week,” Hildar whispered with a shudder. “If only it were ten times as long.”
Idris shot her a sympathetic glance. He hadn’t considered the dread she must be feeling for the task ahead. Kurag reached over to pat Hildar’s arm. “You will be relieved by the time we arrive, I promise you that.”
A chill swept through Idris’s body. If the Forger had intended to comfort her, he had not succeeded. His words were filled with foreboding of the struggled that still lay before Hildar. Idris did not envy her task.
***
A long distance from Bunarat, a man sat in an ancient tower. The left side of his face was scarred and disfigured from a fire he had survived as a child. The left eye was damaged as well, giving it a milky appearance. On his bald head he wore a golden circlet, twisting like a serpent and lined with tiny rubies.
A voice sounded in his mind. Master?
“I am here,” he replied.
I have grave news to report, the voice went on. The Forger and the soldiers from Calaris have escaped once more. Tornin’s faction received heavy losses after pressing a confrontation.
“What did they do?” the man in the tower inquired.
They hired a band of thieves to steal one of the abominations.
“Am I correct in assuming that the soldiers reclaimed their weapon?”
Yes, sir.
The man sighed, rubbing the back of his hand against his cheek. “Foolish Tornin. He should not have taken the weapon unless he had the means to destroy it immediately. Once again, he shows poor foresight.”
Forgive me, Master. I should not have assigned him the task.
“Every member of the Order of Tivan must be given opportunities to prove their devotion,” the man allowed. “Perhaps, in the future, we will have to return Tornin to the guidance of another.”
Yes, sir. I will pass that on.
The man stood, pacing the nearly empty room. “What news of the Breenite princess? Does she continue to interfere?”
No, she is reported to be in Bunarat to gain favor with King Lot.
He nodded slowly. “Good. One less thing to worry about.”
So…we will not be sending someone to deal with her?
“No,” the man answered. “Keep an eye on her, but leave her be for now.”
And what of the Forger and the Calarisians?
The disfigured man frowned at the floor, considering his options. It was several moments before he came to a decision. “Send Rue’s faction to deal with it.”
The voice in his mind sputtered. Does that not seem…unnecessary? There are only five of them.
“Four Wielders and a Forger,” snapped the man. “That makes them more dangerous than any other threat we have faced in decades. Send Rue to finish the job.”
Yes, sir.
The man could feel the connection end between his circlet and the other. He rubbed his forehead, attempting to soothe the throbbing pain behind his eyes. He knew he should remove the circlet from his head, but he grew increasingly reluctant to do so.
As if out of nowhere, a cooling sensation flowed across the man’s skull, sending the pain away. If you were to remove me, whispered a gentle voice, I could not help you.
“I do not need your help, Kys,” the man said rather sharply.
Of course not, the circlet agreed. But you know that I cannot continue without you. I am only half a creation without your mind to guide me.
There may have been a time when the man would’ve noticed the external pushes on his thoughts and emotions, but he was no longer aware of them. It seemed the most natural thing in the world for him to agree with what the circlet told him.
“Yes,” he nodded. “You are merely an extension of my mind.”
Exactly, the circlet said smoothly.
The man found himself frowning at a blank wall. “What was I saying?”
You were going to order that Rue use the binding scepter when going to face the Forger, the circle
t told him.
“I was? Why?”
You have your reasons, the circlet dismissed.
The man’s expression hardened. “Yes, I have my reasons. You need not question me, Kys.”
Forgive me, Master.
“I am the greatest leader the Order of Tivan has ever known,” the man proclaimed to the empty room.
Yes, the circlet agreed. You will bring the world to its knees.
Chapter Thirty-Six: The Halcyon Mountains
“What are they called, again?” Idris asked, staring at the jagged peaks that loomed ahead of them.
“The Halcyon Mountains,” Kurag answered.
Aherin frowned. “What is a halcyon?”
“It is a magical bird that influences the state of the ocean,” the Forger explained. “It can make the waves calm or violent, depending on its desires.”
The mountains did look a bit like enormous waves, which made Idris feel uncomfortable. “Why name them after ocean birds?”
“The coast is just beyond the mountain range,” Kurag informed them. “Halcyon used to nest in parts of the cliffs on the other side.”
“Do they not anymore?” inquired Aherin.
Kurag shrugged. “Perhaps. Magical creatures of all kinds are rare these days.”
“What does it matter what the mountains are called?” Hildar snapped. “It does not change the fact that we will have to climb them.”
She had grown increasingly pale over the past few days, with dark circles appearing under her eyes. Idris knew that Savion must be pressing on her mind, making one final push for control before they reached the Wellspring.
Kurag walked over to where Hildar was riding, reaching out to take her hand. At first Hildar’s eyes flashed with anger, but the emotion quickly melted away. Her expression became one of a lost child as she clung to Kurag’s hand.
“Shall I tell you a story?” he offered.
Hildar nodded, brushing away the tears that were forming. “Yes, please.”
Kurag looked thoughtful as he began to speak. “The first time I saw these mountains was when I was six years old. Normally, that is much too young for one of my kind to visit the Firespring, but both of my parents were going and I was given special permission.”