Yorien's Hand (The Minstrel's Song Book 3)

by Jenelle Leanne Schmidt

  Brant clasped the woman’s hand in his own for a moment. Then he bent down and kissed her forehead.

  “Thank you,” Brant said, his voice harsh with emotion.

  “Safe travels to you, Wanderer,” Ina whispered. “I know you will not stay a moment longer. You have what you sought, now go. The Enemy already creeps towards those you hold dear. Enter the Wylder Wood, and be not dismayed, for it counts you as a friend.”

  Brant nodded and looked at his companions. “Let’s go.”

  Ina and Colas accompanied them outside, bidding them farewell and all speed on their journey. As they turned to leave, Ina reached out and grabbed a hold of Brant’s shoulder, halting him mid-stride. She pulled him close and put her mouth by his ear, whispering so that none of the others could hear, Brant listened closely and after a moment she released him.

  “Go with speed,” Ina said loudly. Then she turned and walked confidently back into her house.

  Brant rejoined the rest of the company and led them into the vast, tangled forest, following the same trail he had walked some forty years before. The path would take them to the ruined palace of the High Kings, and there was an excitement building in the small company. They had reached the last leg of their journey.

  “What did Ina say to you before we left?” Oraeyn asked, falling into step beside Brant once they got a ways into the forest.

  “What she told me was for my ears alone.” At Oraeyn’s crushed look, Brant laid a hand on the young man’s shoulder. “Do not worry about it. She was simply reminding me to be on my guard and not to trust what seemed clear. She wanted to make sure I only trust in the truth I can be sure of—that is all.”

  Oraeyn accepted this though he could not help but continue wondering. He slowed and fell behind the warrior once more, walking beside Kamarie. They did not speak. As they ventured deeper into the forest the air grew thick and warm. A deep silence enveloped them the farther they went. Oraeyn took Kamarie’s hand, glad of her presence in this gloomy place.

  To Brant, however, the forest did not feel as oppressive as he remembered. Perhaps it could sense the urgency of their quest, or maybe it remembered him and how he had spoken with it so many years ago. Forty years would not have felt so long to the forest, Brant reflected. He could hear the whisper of restless wood nymphs; they knew something was amiss, but they left the travelers alone.

  As they made their way along the trail and deeper into the forest the light diminished until it disappeared altogether. Kamarie clung to Oraeyn’s hand as they stumbled along the path, squinting in the dim, murky light. It became hard to discern their way in the gloom. They were both having a difficult time keeping their footing, the sounds around them made it clear that the others were not doing so well either.

  “Is this normal?” Oraeyn asked loudly.

  “I don’t remember it being quite like this,” Brant’s reply sounded like it was coming from a great distance away. “But then, that was a long time ago.”

  “It’s impossible to tell where we’re going,” Kamarie called out.

  “Make sure you stay on the path!” Brant’s voice warned them.

  “I can’t even see the path,” Oraeyn grumbled.

  “We could have strayed from it a long time ago and never noticed,” Kamarie said, her voice trembling.

  Oraeyn raised his voice again, “Can’t we light a torch or a lantern? Surely we brought one.”

  “We did,” this time it was Kiernan’s voice that answered. “I tried lighting one of the lanterns; it’s no use, lad, the light won’t pierce this murkiness. There’s magic at work here, if not Ghrendourak’s, then something very much like it. Be on your guard.”

  “I’ve lived underground,” Rhimmell growled, “but this is intolerable!”

  Thorayenak made a noise of agreement. Something about the dragons giving vent to their frustration made Oraeyn feel a bit better about his unease. He pulled Kamarie close, determined not to lose her. Doggedly he pushed on, placing one foot in front of the other with stolid resolution.

  “Come on,” he said. “Let’s just keep moving. The path must end at some point.”

  “It’s like being back inside that portal,” Brant commented absently. “But without…” he trailed off, whatever he had been about to say was lost in Kamarie’s sudden scream.

  Oraeyn heard Kamarie scream even as he felt her nails dig into his arm. The sound that ripped its way out of her throat was one of pure terror and it pulled him to an abrupt halt. Oraeyn whirled about, drawing the Fang Blade to defend against the unknown attacker.

  It took him a moment to ascertain what was happening, but as his eyes adjusted Oraeyn saw that Kamarie was struggling with an overgrown tree branch that had tangled itself in her long hair. He exhaled deeply in relief and helped her get herself untangled. He pulled her away from the branch and into a one-armed hug. She saw her attacker and her face flushed in embarrassment as she realized what it was that had frightened her so.

  Desperate to put her at ease, Oraeyn glowered sternly at the tree branch. “You shouldn’t do such things,” he reprimanded. “I thought you knew better than that.”

  Kamarie chuckled. At her small laugh, Oraeyn pointed his sword at the branch and pretended to challenge it to a duel.

  “On guard,” he said grandly. The branch remained still and after a moment, Oraeyn straightened. “Aha! Chicken, are you? It’s easy enough to grab a lady’s hair but you won’t stand up to a man with a real weapon? I see how it is! Well, I’ll let you off with no more than a warning this time, but don’t let it happen again!”

  Kamarie laughed out loud and Oraeyn turned to her, his expression bright with affection. The others had rushed to converge upon their location at Kamarie’s scream, but had stopped short and were watching in amazement as Oraeyn challenged the tree. Now it was Oraeyn’s turn to feel foolish. He looked down at the ground, embarrassed to have been caught in such silliness. He started to put his sword away when Rhimmell stopped him with a word.

  “Don’t!”

  Oraeyn paused. “What?”

  “Don’t sheathe your sword!” she commanded.

  Oraeyn’s expression grew mystified. “But why…?” Then he realized why everyone was staring at him in such amazement, and why he could see their expressions of wonder. He raised the Fang Blade higher, the wan light that emanated from it cast a glow over the entire company. The golden blade flickered with a glowing translucence like that of a million fireflies trapped within.

  Brant stepped towards the young king. “You must lead us now,” he said. “The sword will light our way.”

  “But you’re the one who knows this wood and where we’re going.”

  “You hold the golden blade from the prophecy, you must lead us. Do not worry about leading us astray, just make sure you stay on the path and we will be fine. This path only leads to one place.”

  Oraeyn nodded, but he was not at all encouraged by the turn of events. With a sigh, he stepped to the head of the company and hesitantly raised the Fang Blade. Its light flickered brighter, and he pointed it forward into whatever awaited them.

  The light of the Fang Blade improved all of their spirits. Oraeyn welcomed the light, but his heart was heavy. As if she sensed his thoughts, Kamarie moved up to walk beside him and she slipped her hand into his.

  “I don’t want this,” he murmured.

  “I know. But it is what you have been given. We trust you to lead us truly.”

  “No, I don’t mind leading the company,” Oraeyn paused. “It’s just I feel I should go on alone, and it scares me.”

  “You’re not alone.”

  “I know,” he stopped to gather his thoughts. “But soon, I may be.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I’m afraid for you,” he admitted. “Back in Aom-igh, I had nightmares every night for months. I dreamed about this adventure. This place. I dreamed that you died here. Every night, this quest ended in your death, in Br
ant’s death, in everyone’s deaths. If I let you continue much farther...”

  “You didn’t tell me,” Kamarie’s voice was low. “I didn’t know that was what your nightmares were about. Why didn’t you tell me?”

  “I didn’t want to give them any attention. I thought they were just ordinary nightmares; I saw no reason to worry you about them. And besides, they were so horrible; I couldn’t bear to speak of them. Besides, usually I couldn’t even remember what they were about, except for the foreboding sense they left behind. But now… now that we are here they press down around me at every turn.”

  “They were just dreams,” Kamarie reminded him. “They cannot touch you in the waking world.”

  “I know. But they felt so real. They just… they felt so real. They frightened me. They still do.”

  Deep in the forest, between the massive trees, a monstrous form glided in silence, malice dripping from its jaws and hatred stirring in its heart. The creature that stalked them was patient, waiting for its quarry to make a mistake. There was no thought behind its instincts. Its master had promised that there would be food soon, and so it had waited, spinning its gloom over the forest like a spider spins its web. It only knew the hunger, but still it waited. The glowing torch was deadly, the creature knew. But a mistake would be made, a mistake was always made, and so it waited patiently, hunting its prey, eager to feed upon the meal it had been promised.

  CHAPTER

  TWENTY-ONE

  Justan sat like stone next to Rena’s body. He had carried her back to the palace and laid her on a couch in one of the private chambers and he had not moved from her side since. Zara brought him food, but he hadn’t touched it. The servants tried to remind him that he still had a duty to the people and to King Oraeyn, but he sent them away without listening. He had lost the will to live, and he was as unreachable as the woman over whom he kept vigil. Rena remained unconscious, her face light and peaceful. But Justan’s grief consumed him and he could not find the strength to do anything more than watch over her.

  “This cannot continue,” Zara told Arnaud after returning from the palace several days later. “Oraeyn gave him a charge to take care of the kingdom, and Justan is the most capable person I can think of to carry out such a responsibility, but Rena’s sacrifice is sapping his will to survive. Even Kitry has been neglected.”

  Arnaud rubbed his chin. “Have you spoken to Rhendak about this?”

  “Rhendak has his own concerns. One of his own has gone missing and the shield is preventing him from contacting or locating her. Apparently the shield doesn’t just keep everything out of Aom-igh, but it keeps us in as well. But I’m worried that Justan is acting like we are invincible behind this shield. I know for certain that the shield cannot hold forever; Rena bought us time, and he is squandering it.”

  “What about the unicorns?” Arnaud asked. “Have you spoken to them?”

  “What can they do?” Zara asked miserably.

  “They are healers,” Arnaud said.

  “So?” Zara asked, her shoulders slumped with exhaustion. “Well,” Arnaud spread his hands in a meaningful gesture, “Rena helped heal the land. Perhaps the unicorns can be persuaded to establish a bond with her to bring her back. She’s still here, she isn’t dead. As I understand it, as long as the shield remains intact, she is still alive, which means there is still a connection between her body and her spirit, however tenuous.” “Perhaps the unicorns can strengthen that link,” Zara finished his thought. “It could work, in theory.”

  “And if you can offer that theory as a ray of hope it might give Justan the boost he needs to snap out of this depression he’s fallen into. The people will be warned, the troops will be placed, and Rena has a better chance of waking up when it’s all over.”

  “Why didn’t I think of that?”

  “You would have thought of it sooner or later. Sometimes you just need a fresh perspective to come up with a new solution to an old problem.”

  “That sounds like my father talking,” Zara accused.

  “A wise man, your father. Go visit Kessella.”

  The unicorn’s refuge was deep within the Aura Wood. The most wary and skittish of the myth-folk, unicorns preferred isolation. When they departed Krayghentaliss, the unicorns continued to keep to themselves hidden in the woodland regions. The forests were immense, mysterious, and tangled, and these beautiful, delicate creatures found safety in this untraveled wilderness. Their chief talent was that of healing, and while they did not seek patients, neither could they refuse to utilize their healing art if a need was presented.

  Zara had befriended Kessella in a strange chance meeting, and the unicorn had taken a liking to the wizardess. Kessella found it intriguing that Zara had given up her life as a wizardess because she had fallen in love with a human. Their unlikely friendship had grown over the past two years and Kessella had begun to teach Zara about healing. The rest of the unicorns came to accept Zara’s presence in their midst, mostly because they trusted Kessella’s judgment. Though there was no hierarchy among the unicorns, Kessella’s age and wisdom was highly respected.

  Zara now made her way along the path into the Ionell. The trail was such that it would disappear behind her without a trace, leaving it impossible for anyone to track her. The unicorns had left nothing to chance when it came to concealing their home. Though she had visited many times, it always took Zara’s breath away when she first stepped into their secret domain.

  The Ionell was beyond description. Although the trail led straight to the deepest part of the wood, Zara emerged from the path into giant, rolling pastures of emerald grass that swayed peacefully in the wind. Unicorns frolicked and danced across the plains in front of them. Tall patches of grass hid foals, and shady copses of trees provided shelter in bad weather. A turquoise-blue stream ran through the plains and a great rock cliff rose up on the eastern edge of the realm. A veil of water cascaded down over the rocks, glittering like a bead curtain of diamonds.

  Though not the strongest of the myth-folk, the unicorns were unique in their abilities. The dragons could permeate the land with their power, as they had done in the Harshlands, but the formation of the land itself remained unchanged. Wizards could create and sustain an incredible illusion as Calyssia had done in Pearl Cove. The unicorns did neither. Their magic was spun in such a way that they could create and alter the very fabric of the ground.

  “It never gets old,” Zara breathed. She often found it difficult to speak above a whisper in this place; any real sound might shatter the fragile picture into a thousand precious, tiny shards that could never be reassembled.

  Zara stood still, waiting. She was allowed to find this place, but it would be rude to go further than the doorway without an escort. She did not wait long. Kessella had felt her presence and now the unicorn appeared, racing fluidly across the rolling hills to greet her.

  Kessella was as black as an aethalon’s armor, but her mane, tail, and horn were as white as the sands of Pearl Cove. Her coloring was unusual, even for a unicorn, but it cost her no respect, she was too strong and too wise for anyone to disrespect her for such a superficial distinction.

  “Zara!” Kessella thundered up to the wizardess, her white mane flying behind her. “What brings you here today? More lessons?”

  “No, Kessella, I have come to ask for your aid.”

  “What sort of aid do you require?”

  “I’m sure you’ve heard of Rena,” Zara began.

  “The Song Bearer? Of course.” Kessella raised her horn to the sky. “She’s responsible for that.”

  “Yes. But I fear it came at too dear a cost,” Zara said. Then she related to Kessella all that Rena had done to create the shield.

  Kessella listened until Zara was through and then she bobbed her head. “You were right to come here. My people cannot ignore this cry for help. I shall return to the palace with you, but I must call council first and alert my people. Will you stay and tell them what y
ou have told me?”

  “Of course.”

  Kessella did not hesitate. “The council will want to hear your story. If a battle approaches many may need healing, which will require others of my race. Up on my back, dear friend. Time is precious.”

  Zara slipped onto the great back of the unicorn and Kessella took off towards the grove of trees where the council would be held. The unicorn lifted her great neck and trumpeted into the air, a long, loud, clear call that echoed throughout the Ionell. Every unicorn within its borders would find themselves compelled to answer.

  ❖ ❖ ❖

  “We must act now,” Dylanna’s voice was all business. “Ghrendourak has wasted no time conquering our world, he must be stopped.”

  Shentallyia agreed. “There is no time to lose. Aom-igh could already have fallen, I should not have left.”

  Leila huffed in exasperation. “What could you have done? What could any one of us have done? At least you are safe and capable of helping from the outside if our country is under attack.”

  They were gathered together and had been discussing plans and options for two days, far too long already, at least in Dylanna’s opinion.

  Jemson sensed Dylanna’s impatience and asked, “How do we defend against an enemy unseen? How do we attack when we have no idea where the battlefield is located? Leila, you tell us that this Ghrendourak leads an army of creatures that make the seheowks seem like puppies. You know yourself the close call we recently had with these same ‘puppies.’ This close call took all of our training, resources, and many of our best men, and even then the difference between victory and defeat was provided by Shentallyia—who is now departing with you for Aom-igh. Certainly you can see the desperate plight we face, and we will indeed face it, but we cannot race into battle with an enemy that cannot be found.”