by Kate Jacoby
Imperfect and eternal, the rage unquelled in his breast, there to die a forgotten peace. Untempered flame of unholy passion will guide his path though wisdom itself will fail him at the last...
Was it really so long ago since that awful day when he’d stood before the Key, an innocent child of nine? Had the years passed so quickly that he’d not noticed? Within the age of the Enclave, it was a grain of time but to Robert, everything came down to that one moment. Those few seconds suspended at the edge of his childhood had changed his life and had brought him to where he was today, standing in a cave somewhere in Shan Moss. How could one single moment determine the course of an entire life? How had he allowed it to?
He walked forward out of the shelter. He felt the wind immediately and turned his face into it, revelling in the fresh cold touch. It had been so long since his flesh had caught a wind like that. And the smells—so familiar and yet so different. Invisible reminders pricked at his memory, touching things here and there. So much he’d forgotten. So very much.
But it hadn’t just been that one moment, had it? In all, his life had been a series of moments, all equally to blame, all equally leading him to damnation.
No, they would leave him alone. He would make sure of it. This was one thing he would not fail at. There was nothing—absolutely nothing—they could say or do that would change his mind.
He bent down and trailed his fingers in the water, feeling them tingle and go numb. He wanted to reach out to the numbness, make it course through his veins and into his very heart. He wanted to wrap it around his soul, to drown in it. Anything that would finally grant him some peace.
But peace was not so easily gained. Three years wandering the southern lands had taught him that. There was no peace. He would just have to go on feeling, regardless of his will. He could no more stop it than tell the wind to stop blowing. It was inevitable, that failure. Just as inevitable as this return to Lusara.
Why hadn’t he seen that before? But three years ago, in the black pits of his frustration and despair—when rage had threatened to overwhelm him—thoughts of any return had been beyond him. And now looking back on it ... on Berenice...
No! Not that. He would not—could not—afford to think about her.
Then what about Marcus? Faithful, exuberant, wise. Gone now. Gone before Robert had even seen him again. Gone for ever. Another friend lost, another voice silenced. A sombre welcome back to Lusara.
So—what was he to do about Finnlay? Send him on his way? Do as he asked and go to the Gathering? Or continue as he had always done and keep trying to make his brother understand. But was there anything left—any words remaining to convince his brother and all those like him that Robert was not the man they thought he was? That to put their faith in him was to guarantee failure—and worse?
But he already knew the answer. Finnlay was his brother and for all his faults, Robert loved him. As long as Robert had breath to command, he would continue trying to teach his passionate, fiery sibling all he could. And perhaps, somewhere in there, at some point in time, Finnlay might just be able to forgive him his great crime.
Yes, forward. He must continue forward. The past was gone. The future would not be so bad that he couldn’t bear it. It only required a modicum of strength—and a cartload of determination. It could indeed be much worse.
He straightened up and turned his eyes towards the sky once more. It was almost dawn now, with that crisp grey half-light which characterized the moments just before the sun rose. That delicious moment of renewal, when the earth refreshed itself before diving into the coming day. Yes, it was time to move. He took a step back from the water—and stopped. A sound from the cave, movement and a light whispered voice.
Robert smiled. “I wouldn’t bother taking that horse. It’s lame.”
The girl’s face snapped around towards him in surprise. She remained frozen in the cave mouth, her hand on the horse’s bridle, then, giving in easily, she shrugged. “I didn’t think you would miss it.”
“I sincerely hope you don’t make a habit of borrowing horses. Next time there may not be anyone around to rescue you. Do you?”
“What?”
“Make a habit of it?”
She raised her eyebrows and for a brief second, Robert had the strangest feeling that she looked familiar. The moment was fleeting however, and didn’t last long enough for him to pinpoint why.
“You don’t look very surprised,” she replied evenly. “Were you waiting for me?”
“No, I was watching the sunrise—and you didn’t answer my question.”
“No, I don’t make a habit of it. Despite what that Guildesman said, I’m not a thief. Look, put yourself in my place. I don’t know who you are—or why you helped me. It’s a matter of survival, after all. For all I know, you could be murderers.”
Robert nodded deliberately. “Aye, we could indeed. What do you want? Back to your village?”
“Would you take me if I asked?”
“That would depend on how much I trusted you.”
“Or on how much I trusted you.”
Despite his best intentions, Robert had to laugh. Jenn said nothing, merely watched him. She was no innocent, this one. Instead, she seemed to face life with a shameless bravado. “Where, then?” he said.
“Well, if you gave me the horse then I wouldn’t be stealing it, would I?”
“But it’s not my horse. It belongs to Finnlay, so you’d have to ask him. Any other suggestions?”
She gave him a measured look then glanced away. “Are you heading across the mountains?”
“Yes.”
“Would you take me to the other side?”
“Who are you running from—apart from the Guilde?”
“No one.” She frowned up at him. “Why should I be running? I’ve just always wanted to see the other side of the country. I know I’ve probably annoyed your brother, but really, I could be useful. I can cook better than your sunny-faced friend in there.”
Robert had to concede there was some virtue in her travelling with them. While this stranger was around, Finnlay would have no choice but to keep quiet. There was no way Finnlay would endanger the five-hundred-year-old secret of the Enclave by speaking about it in front of the girl. Indeed, she could be more useful than she thought.
“Well, don’t expect him to be happy about it,” he smiled. “Finnlay has a bad habit of letting things smoulder away. Don’t be surprised if he hardly says a pleasant word to you.”
She waved a hand in the air. “Don’t worry. I’ll win him around.”
Robert reached up and took the horse’s bridle from her. “You can ride this horse if you like.”
“But you said it was lame!”
He tossed her an apologetic smile. “Well, it was—yesterday. Come on, let’s wake the boys up.”
But Finnlay was already awake and immediately herded Robert to the back of the cave, out of earshot. In a hushed voice he hissed, “You can’t be serious! We don’t know who she is. Last night the Guilde were chasing her. Do you want to bring them down on you so soon after your return? And to take her across the Goleth? Right past...”
Robert lifted his saddle on to his horse and spared Finnlay only the briefest glance. “What do you expect me to do? Just leave her here? Send her back into the waiting arms of the Guilde? Abandon her at the first village we come across? You’ve sworn the knight’s oath, brother. She’s helpless and alone in the world. It’s our duty to protect her.” He finished with a smile hoping to break Finnlay’s mood but it didn’t make any difference.
With a scowl Finnlay straightened up. “I see. Well, I’m sorry, brother but it’s not that simple. You won’t get rid of me that easily.” Without another word, he turned and made for his saddle.
Robert shook his head. Where did Finnlay get these strange ideas?
The day wore on, cool and dark as the persistent clouds that hung ominously above. More than once, Micah peered through the golden canopy of forest hoping for so
me break in the grey sky. And now, with midday just past, the wind had freshened, threatening a storm.
He rode behind Robert and Finnlay, keeping Jenn company—or rather, she kept him company, for she was an interesting, intriguing companion. She had a quick mind and, it seemed, a fearless tenacity. Nevertheless, Micah felt it his duty to find out as much about her as possible. Besides, she made him laugh.
“You look so grim, Micah,” Jenn murmured gravely, her azure eyes fixed upon him. “What are you worried about now?”
“The weather, nothing new. I suppose I’d forgotten just how quickly it changes here. And it’s so cold. Aren’t you cold?”
“Not particularly.”
Micah shook his head and flexed his fingers a few times. “So,” he tried again, “if Westmay was not your home—where do you come from? Where is your family?”
Jenn laughed. “So curious, Micah. All questions, questions.”
“Have you something to hide?”
“We all have something to hide.” With a meaningful look at the two lords ahead of them, she leaned towards Micah conspiratorially. “I’ll tell you if you tell me why those two hardly speak. Why is Finnlay so angry with his brother?”
For a moment, Micah actually thought she was serious, then he saw the way her eyes sparkled with mischief and he relaxed. “How should I know?” he asked.
“You travel with them. They trust you. You must know. The only thing I don’t understand is why Robert is not angry in return.”
“He never gets angry,” Micah shrugged.
“What, never?”
“No. He says that anger is the one emotion that makes a man ultimately vulnerable and ultimately dangerous. He says he has no desire to be either.”
“But why is Finnlay angry with him in the first place?”
Micah turned his head to look at her. Yes indeed, the same mischievous glint in her eyes. Instead of replying, however, he said, “You’re trying very hard to change the subject.”
She lifted a shoulder idly. “Not that hard.”
“We were discussing your family.”
“Were we? I thought we were discussing your master.”
Micah grinned. “As I said, you’re changing the subject.”
“But there’s no mystery there, Micah, honest. I grew up in a tavern on the other side of Shan Moss. When I was twelve, my father died and my mother went mad. They took away my brother and hanged him as a thief. As I was only a child, they took away the tavern and I was left to find my own way. Since then I’ve wandered the countryside, working where I can. My goal is to see the whole country before I die.”
Micah coughed. “Is that the truth?”
“What?” she glanced at him with eyes of pure innocence. After a moment, she softened, “Well, mostly—all right, not much, but I did grow up in a tavern with my father. When he died I was sent to his sister’s farm but she had no room for me and after a few months, turned me out. I lost the inn and my father. I’ve been travelling ever since.”
“And your mother?”
“I never knew her. She died when I was born.”
“You are a storyteller, aren’t you?” Micah laughed.
“I’m learning,” she grinned. “That’s why I travel—to collect stories. You’d be amazed at the things people tell me, the things I hear by accident.”
“Such as?”
“Well, like the hermit and his visit to Saint Cuthbert’s. I’d like to hear stories you’ve heard on your travels. Like when you were on the southern continent. Did you see Alusia or the Palace of Bu?”
“You’ve heard of the Palace?” Micah demanded, shocked.
“Of course. It’s said the place was built by sorcerers centuries ago—but I don’t believe everything I’m told.”
“Well, it looked to me like it was built by ordinary folk.”
“Oh?” Jenn shot back, “how could you tell?”
“I just know about these things,” Micah ventured a casual smile. “I even met a sorcerer once.”
Jenn laughed in disbelief. “That’s what everybody says.”
“Well I did—and if there had been any wandering around the Palace of Bu, I would have known.”
Shaking her head, Jenn turned her gaze to their path and fell silent a moment. Then, with her hands folded together on the pommel of her saddle, she said, “I heard another story once, about a legend.”
Something about her composed manner and the subtle change of subject drew his attention. “What legend?”
“It’s an old story though I’ve heard it many times from many different people. Of course, the details vary depending on who was talking—and why. It has to do with an evil King and a young lord who befriended him. The young lord worked hard, turning the King’s hand away from destroying the people. In return for helping to bring peace to his country, the king bestowed many honours on the young lord and held him high above all others. From these new heights the lord took the armies of the King and fought many battles along the northern border of the country, quelling invading armies and bringing security to those who lived there. The King, full of gratitude, granted the lord many requests to help the people and in return they loved the young lord and took him into their hearts. But jealousy and intrigue ate away at the souls of those around them and one day, the young lord turned his back on the King and left his people alone. Some say he was driven away—some say he left in fear. Others believed that one day he would return with a conquering army, destroy his old friend and take the throne himself.”
Micah kept his silence and waited for her to finish. There was nothing, after all, that he could say.
“As it turns out,” Jenn continued with a glance in his direction, “they were all wrong, weren’t they, Micah?”
He couldn’t meet her gaze. “Why ask me? It’s your story.”
“Because that young lord is your master—Robert Douglas, Earl of Dunlorn.”
Micah let out a pent-up breath and turned to study her for a moment. The inevitable question came out: “How did you know?”
“Two brothers, five or six years apart? One called Robert, the other Finnlay? The way your master took command the moment I begged for help and the fact that Finnlay was so annoyed that it was the Guilde chasing me. Robert’s been away for a long time, on the southern continent.” She paused with a shrug. “It wasn’t that hard. His return is not supposed to be a secret, is it?”
“No, not exactly. However, my master would like to get back to Dunlorn before it becomes common knowledge.” He watched her. Was she trustworthy? She returned his gaze without artifice, no glint in her eye, no suggestion of mischief. This was her true face, her honest face—and he believed her. He stored the memory away for future reference. There was really no telling otherwise when she was ... enlarging on the truth.
Reading his unspoken question, she murmured, “I’m no danger to your master, Micah. As a storyteller, I’m more interested in how the legend came to be, rather than the destruction of it. Your master is very important to the people. Even today. I hope he understands that.”
Micah nodded absently. It was all very well and good her saying that—but she only knew the story and not the truth. What would she say about the legend if she knew that at its heart was the secret of forbidden sorcery and a whole world beyond her vivid imagination?
His gaze returned to the two men who rode in front, in silence. Jenn had seen Finnlay’s anger but his vow to the Enclave and his Sealing would prevent him from saying anything about why.
The tales of sorcery had died out along with the last of the old order and now were little more than stories with which to frighten children. No one remembered any more just what sorcerers had done. All they knew was that once sorcerers had flourished and worked alongside the old empire until one day they had turned against it. The facts, along with most of the details, had faded with time, but it was a matter of great pride to most people that the sorcerers had been defeated in the end. They’d been hounded, caught and to
rtured throughout the world until the last had given up his life.
All that had happened over five hundred years ago. Sorcery had died out along with the last remnants of the empire. Everybody knew it, everybody believed it. It was a fine story—a great and triumphant history—but Micah knew it was also a lie.
Not all the sorcerers had taken part in that last battle. In fact, not all of them had taken part in the rebellion against the empire. A small few had refused to be a part of the conflict and rather than help or hinder, had simply left. When the final battle against the empire was lost, some of the survivors joined them. Together, hidden by their awesome powers, they had come to Lusara and founded the Enclave. Five centuries later their secret was still intact, their powers unseen.
And this girl wanted to know why Finnlay was angry! What would she say if he could tell her that Finnlay raged because Robert had turned down a greater power than any of them could possibly imagine?
As they emerged from the forest, Robert called a halt and took his first unhindered look at the Goleth mountains spread out before him. From this point they ran a further eighty leagues to the north and almost a hundred leagues south to the coast. It would take them five days to cross the range if all went well, but first they needed some supplies. And there, perched on the side of a crumbling foothill, stood the village of Solmoss. Buildings were cramped together in a scar of brown against the grey stone, dwarfed by the expanse of Shan Moss below, the peaks beyond. These people were poor, scratching a living from the wild goats that lived in the mountains and what game they could find in the outer reaches of the forest. Few people ventured further in or high into the mountains. Superstition kept them out of the forest—and something else entirely kept them out of the Goleth.
“Do we stop for the night or go on?” Finnlay asked without preamble. “I don’t like the look of this weather.”
Robert nodded, “It’s too early to be stopping but I agree, it looks like it’s going to turn very sour. We’ll stay the night and give the horses some rest before they tackle the mountains. We can get a good start in the morning.”