The Pentacle War: Book One - Hearts In Cups

by Candace Gylgayton

  Sitting on her big roan horse, Hollin looked over the assembled people on the steps and along the portico encircling the courtyard. Lord Percamber, his old face brightened by the intent of her mission, raised his hand in farewell. Flanking him were the Dukes of Tuenth and Creon: Gunnar, with his wife clutching his arm, and Branwilde with his eldest son behind him. Hywell waved cheerfully from the pillar against which he was leaning. The Duke and Duchess of Mirvanovir stood aloof from the others. Dinea watched from the top step, her face betraying little of the grave concern which she felt. The other two remaining Minor House lords, Thurin and Gresha, mingled with the palace nobles who congregated on the surrounding steps. Lady Laurin of Pentarell, called back to settle a land dispute, had left earlier in the week. There was a movement in the shadows within the portico and Hollin discerned the figure of Tuenth's other son, Blaise, coming forward to lean on the opposite side of Hywell's pillar, like a pair of bookends. Lady Clowen, joined by her son, waved enthusiastically. Beside her, Inara was more restrained in her farewells. Inara, who did not ride horseback, was being left behind with Lady Clowen while Celia, who could ride, was taking her place as her mistress' chief lady-in-waiting. Hollin could read in Inara's face how far she trusted Celia's abilities.

  Lord Gerard urged his horse forward and Hollin did the same. With the calls of good wishes at their backs, they clattered out of the courtyard and down through the center of the city. There was much commotion as they rode through the streets, but the way was kept open and the city's northern gates were soon behind them. She felt a dizzying sensation of relief as she urged her horse into a canter and felt his long strides carrying her away from the confinement of the city. A strong breeze whipped the multi-hued standards, and the sun was bright on the lances and burnished mail of the honour-guard clad in the livery of their respective liege-lords.

  Surrounded by her personal retinue, Hollin took her place at the head of the procession, with Gerard immediately behind her leading the bulk of the company. It was with pleasure that Hollin saw Viscount Treves wheel his horse in so that he might ride at her side. Her horse playfully struck out and danced a few steps as she brought him back under her control.

  "I'm afraid that Farion is not yet used to the side-saddle, and neither am I," she commented blithely.

  Colin chuckled. "At home, it is frequently my wife's wont to toss her lady's saddle aside when no one is looking. Your horse has rather unusual colouring; is he home-bred?"

  "Yes, my father was interested in the raising and training of horses. Of course, he was brought up in the Medicat barony, which is better suited to horses than the mountains around Lir. This horse is the get of one of his cross-bred stallions. Actually, he's very well-mannered and quite intelligent for a horse," she chatted comfortably to the lord at her side.

  "He looks as if he could be a handful of trouble if crossed," Colin remarked as the horse again struck out in play.

  "Ah yes; but then, couldn't we all, my lord." At that, he laughed out loud.

  The company traveled the same road that Hollin had come down only a few short weeks before. Now the grass had grown deep and lush and the early blossoms had fled the trees. The sun was warm on their backs and the road, being smooth and well-maintained, made this first leg of the journey quick and comfortable.

  The plan of travel called for them to follow the Silvarluin Valley north until they came to the range of mountains called the Ward's Girdle, which was the boundary between the Duchy of Sandovar and the Earldom of the Inner Ward. There was a well-used pass through the mountains which would slow them down somewhat, but Gerard assured her that this late in the spring the mountain snows in the pass should be melted. At the other end of the pass was Greystone Fortress, home to Lord Brescom. The Earl of the Inner Ward had left Pentarin over a week ago, so that he might ride ahead and prepare to welcome the company on its way through his lands.

  As they proceeded northwards the air took on a chilly aspect and Hollin rewrapped her heavy wool cloak about her. Celia had suffered several days of sore muscles, but was now riding more comfortably on her sturdy bay cob. There were a few other women riding with the contingent of servants, and though they helped Celia care for the duchess, most of the responsibility was on Celia's shoulders. She had only been in the duchess' service for a year and, while she was greatly honoured to be with her mistress on this journey, she was worried about the adequacy of her abilities in comparison to Inara or Lady Clowen. The duchess herself voiced no complaint. Indeed, she seemed to be quite capable of taking care of herself. Celia huddled down into her saddle with her cloak pulled tightly about her and gazed at the mountains that had started to rise around the company as they rode into the pass.

  That night, they made camp. A tent was pitched for the duchess and her lady-in-waiting in between the small tent reserved for Lord Gerard and Lord Colin's slightly larger one. The wind that snaked its way down the mountain pass was frigid and it came through the thin walls of the tent as if they served no barrier at all. A brazier, heaped with coals, stood in the center of Hollin's tent, sending out its glowing warmth only a few feet. Gerard, who was familiar with the pass, informed her that the wind would die down during the night and rise again with the dawn. She and Celia ate alone in their tent and slept in furs next to the brazier. This pattern continued for the next few days. They awoke to the chill wind and broke camp. Midmorning, the wind would vanish only to return in the late afternoon when they stopped to set up their tents. Then, on the morning of the day that they were to reach Greystone Fortress, misfortune struck.

  They were wending their way through a particularly rocky portion of the road when Colin's horse stumbled, could not recover, and pitched both himself and his rider down into a shallow stream that ran alongside the road. Several men were off their horses and scrambling down to the lord's aid within seconds of the accident. The horse had risen and stood looking with confusion at his rider who lay at his feet, half-in and half-out of the icy water. Colin was gently lifted from the stream and carried up to the trail while his horse, limping painfully, followed.

  Gerard called for one of his men who was skilled at healing, and both men knelt before Colin's prone body. Colin was unconscious and there was blood seeping from a variety of cuts and gashes, but the major injury was to his arm, which hung at an awkward angle, signaling a broken bone. As the man began tending to Colin's various hurts, Gerard went to ask about the horse, and then came to where Hollin sat with a troubled face.

  "How is he?" she asked.

  "Once he comes round he'll hurt, but he'll be all right, your grace. That was a nasty fall. He's got a broken arm, but my man says that the rest of the wounds are none too serious. The horse, though, has wrenched his leg and won't be carrying anyone soon." He looked back to where the fallen man was being cared for. "The Fortress is not far from here. I'll send men to have a litter brought back to carry him. You'd best go on with them; no use for you to sit here when there's a comfortable room waiting for you."

  Hollin looked doubtfully at him. "I'd rather stay with Lord Colin."

  "Pardon me your grace, if you could do him any good then staying here would be fine, but there being nothing you can do to help him; you should go on. I'll send the bulk of the company on with you; there's no reason for them to stay. Don't worry, we'll start a fire to keep him warm while waiting for better transport for him," he assured her.

  "You may be right, but I will see him before I leave," she said, kicking her feet free of the stirrups and sliding to the ground. She handed Farion's reins to one of her own men and imperiously strode off with the discomfited commander at her heels.

  Colin lay with his upper body supported on the thighs of a man kneeling behind him. The viscount's flaxen hair was smeared with blood and his face was very white when Hollin looked down at him. The healer had stanched the minor wounds and was preparing to set the useless forearm. As his arm was moved, he moaned and feebly tried to protect the injured limb. Hollin knelt and, to the surprise of th
e attending soldiers, placed the fingertips of her left hand on his temple. Using the ring on her right hand as a focus, she breathed slowly, letting her mind settle and come into another state of awareness. Developing the image of silvery-grey light, she willed this image to transfer itself to the prone figure. By the relaxed expression that Colin's face lapsed into, Hollin saw that she had succeeded. The healer was watching her inquisitively but said nothing; as she stood up, he returned his attention to binding the arm.

  "I will leave now," she told Gerard, offering no other explanation of her behaviour as she walked back to her horse. Bowing, he gave the order to one of his lieutenants and the man who had held the duchess' horse gave her a hand up. Within a few moments she rode on up the trail, followed by the major portion of the escort.

  Lord Larth Brescom, Earl of the Inner Ward, was waiting for them when they reached his castle in the early part of the afternoon. Informed of the accident, he immediately sent the required litter and his own physician to retrieve the injured lord. In the meantime, Hollin was graciously made welcome and conducted to the rooms prepared for her. Several women had been assigned to care for the traveling duchess and she soon found herself being almost intolerably pampered by them. She was hardly able to eject them all from her bedchamber when she finally pleaded the need for a nap.

  Greystone Fortress was exactly what the name conjured to mind: a huge square edifice of stone built to withstand assault. It was located on a small hill in a large ravine at the head of the mountain pass. Looking up at its blind walls pierced at the heights by low, narrow sights for archers, Hollin found it a remarkably gloomy building. Even the ravine in which it was built was bare of trees, the green grass and wildflowers offering the only variation from the incessant dun and grey rocks. The far end of the ravine opened onto the Inner Ward proper, a beautiful valley of orchards and grasslands, but the Earl preferred to live here within the grim but safe walls of his castle.

  He was a widower with several full-grown children, one of whom presided as hostess that evening at dinner. A dour, plain-faced woman who said little, she turned out to be his eldest daughter. The earl, being a taciturn man who spoke only to some direct purpose, spent the evening asking questions about the specifics of their journey and their immediate future plans. Most of his talk was directed towards Gerard, and Hollin found herself covering yawns of boredom. Grateful for the end of the meal, she went in search of the viscount before retiring to her own rooms.

  Colin had been conveyed into the castle at sundown and taken immediately to the room assigned him. There, the physician had examined him again, pronounced that he would live and given him a sedative to help him sleep. Colin had avoided the sedative and, instead, had managed to send word to Hollin, asking her to try to see him later that evening. Then he lay back against the pillows of his bed and tried to arrange his thoughts.

  A soft knock on his chamber door woke him from the light doze he had drifted into, and his man-servant ushered in the duchess. The room was dark, lit by too few lamps and a small fire, and smelled faintly of mold. Hollin made her way to the bed in which Colin lay propped up and sat down on a nearby chair.

  "Well, this is an unexpected nuisance," he said, gesturing to the arm that lay heavily bandaged beside him.

  "How are you feeling? Other than the arm, I mean?"

  Unexpectedly touched by the genuine worry he saw in her face, he grimaced reassuringly. "The consensus of opinion is that I will live to ride again. But I fear that I cannot continue with the embassy to the prince." She communicated her understanding with a nod. "I am sorry that this has happened. I feel as if I have failed you before you even needed my help," he finished in dispirited tones.

  "Hardly that; although I admit that I shall miss your companionship on the journey. I've just come from a very dull dinner during which Brescom and Gerard have been discussing when and where we shall go next."

  Colin looked surprised. "But I thought that it had already been decided that we would take the Great Northern Road over Eagle Peak. Has something happened?"

  "Apparently there has recently been a landslide that took out a portion of that road and it will be impassable for several weeks to come. Brescom was telling Gerard the particulars and pulling out maps when I left." She paused for a minute, thinking. "It makes little difference to me which way we leave the Pentarchy. The work I've done with the ring indicates that we head due north through the mountains towards the range called the Pillars of the Sky, if I'm correct."

  "You undoubtedly are," he allowed. "Have you had any difficulties with the ring? One of my main concerns in not continuing with you is that you will have to manage the ring on your own."

  She grinned at him. "You and Dinea were good teachers. I'm confident of my ability to wield the ring, or at least to interpret it."

  Looking closely at her, he asked with unusual diffidence, "Did you make use of the ring this afternoon after the accident? I remember starting to come round and feeling the pain in my arm, and then something like a grey cloud pushed me back into unconsciousness. Was that you?"

  "Yes," she admitted. "But I only used the ring as a focus. It's a healing trick that my mother taught me when I was a little girl. You drop into a light trance and bring up the image of a sort of silvery light and then allow the light to wash over you. Whenever I was ill, I always felt much better after doing that. When I saw you lying there I decided to see if I could transfer that light to you. I think that the ring acted as a bridge so that I could send the light to you. Didn't you learn to do something similar when you were trained?"

  He shook his head. "I wonder if it is part of the House Gift, or a natural talent?"

  He drifted into silence thinking about it.

  "Well, I'm just glad it worked," she said, breaking into his ruminations.

  Grinning he apologized. "It's part of my training to be interested in the manifestation of any type of arcane ability. The physician has informed me that I must rest here a couple of days and Brescom has offered a litter and carriers to take me back down the pass. If I cannot be of use to you, I'd best go back to Pentarin and do what I can for Percamber."

  "I dare say your wife would prefer to nurse you herself."

  "I'm sure that she would, after scolding me roundly for falling off of my horse in the first place." His eyes reflected her amusement. "One thing that I would ask of you before you leave," he said, his voice growing serious. "Do you remember the young musician, my retainer, who was involved in that business with the Duke of Creon's daughter?"

  She nodded. "Dinea spoke to me about him in Pentarin. Wasn't he supposed to join you?"

  "You very kindly agreed to let him take a place beside me as part of the contingent from my House. I was to meet him at our next stop near the town of Durstede. Will you still allow him to accompany the embassy on its quest? He cannot return with me to Pentarin, and there is too much danger in sending him back to Treves at this time. He needs to be away from the Pentarchy."

  "What if he refuses to join the embassy now that you will not be with us?"

  "If he refuses, then there is nothing more that I can do for him, and he must take his own chances. But I would ask that the option be open for him. Will you do this for me, your grace?"

  In her own mind, Hollin was a little uneasy with the idea of personally sponsoring Colin's protégé. Outside of that one evening, when he had entertained them in House Treves’ quarters, she had not spoken with him, and though her initial impression had been favourable, subsequent events cast a decided shadow over the man’s reputation. Knowing that to agree was to accept Colin's and Dinea's estimation of him, she made her decision. "If you wish it, then I will offer him the choice," she assured him. "How and where was he supposed to meet up with you?"

  "We planned to meet at Durstede. He should be there now and will probably approach the captain of my House Guards when you make camp in the vicinity. I will give instructions that he be sent directly to you. Will that be satisfactory?"

&nbs
p; "Quite. And now, I have taken up far too much time that you should be devoting to rest." She stood and extended her hand to him. "Good night, my lord."

  He kissed her hand and gave it a friendly squeeze. "Good night, Lady Hollin, and thank you."

  One more day and a night were spent as guests of the Earl of the Inner Ward. The gloomy quality of the castle and the dullness of the company made the stay seem twice as long to a restless Hollin. She visited Colin several more times to make certain that he was indeed healing, as well as to talk to someone interesting. Lord Brescom's daughter grew even more tedious, if that was possible, and being forced to spend any time at all with her was a chore for Hollin. Brescom himself, while scrupulously polite, tended to eschew the duchess’ company altogether, preferring the fellowship of the embassy's commander, Lord Gerard.

  The duchess was almost too eager in her farewells on the morning that they rode away from Greystone Fortress. As they moved forward and the castle receded behind them, she felt a sense of oppression lift from her spirits. The sooner Colin bid his farewells to that pile of stones, the better for him, was her thought. Farion was feeling frisky again after a day of rest and kicked out his heels in mock surprise every few miles as they traveled down into the heart of the Inner Ward.

  The Earldom of the Inner Ward was comprised mostly of a very large valley stretching east and west between two mountain ranges. To the south was the long chain of the Ward's Girdle. Northwards rose the Tarrant Mountains, a vast land of snowy peaks and alpine valleys that stretched for several hundred miles. This was the northern-most boundary of the Pentarchy. There was one main road making its tortuous way through the northern mountains: a valuable trade-route to the inhabited lands in the far north. The road was maintained by a multitude of tiny villages that lay along its extended route like beads on a string. Owing allegiance to no one, these villages eked out their existence on the little cultivable land around them and the merchant's caravans that regularly plied their wares from the northlands to the Pentarchy and back.