In the distant shadows, Jair heard whispers of other voices, and farther beyond, the muted snarls of horrors he did not wish to see. As if the Dread had conferred among themselves, the rumbling voice suddenly returned.
“We will help you, daughter of the Sworn. But heed this warning: We keep our own counsel. A great darkness is coming. We have not yet determined how-or whether-we will act. Do not presume to know our mind.”
Talwyn clasped her hands in front of her and bowed to the spirits. “Thank you, guardians. I will bear your warning.”
“Leave us now. When you rejoin your body, you will have the knowledge and the power you need to ward the barrow. Do not come to us again unless we summon you.”
Jair shook off the trance and looked up. Talwyn’s spirit image and her guides were making their way toward them through the mist. The spirit-Talwyn stood before her crumpled body, and then stepped into the form, raising it around her. Talwyn blinked and took a deep breath. Her amber eyes glowed with power, and the spirit guides moved beside her as she walked toward the barrows. She spoke in a language Jair had never heard, and the words seemed impossible to fix in his mind, as if it was not given for mortals to remember them. The hole in the side of the barrow filled in; no, Jair thought, it healed as if the soil and rock were sinew and skin.
Pevre was the first to move. He began to beat his hand drum in rhythm with the strange chant that Talwyn sang. Jair felt fatigue wash over him, and he realized that Talwyn had begun to draw from his energy to sustain herself as she worked the magic. Linked to Talwyn, Jair felt energy crackle around him as if lightning had struck at close range. The pull from Talwyn was stronger now, and her face was set with fierce concentration. Jair had only rarely seen Talwyn work this level of magic. He could not shake off a primal fear of the power that consumed her and the steady pull that drew from his own life force.
Linked to Talwyn, Jair saw the barrow begin to glisten, and he realized that he was seeing the magic as Talwyn saw it. Honeyed strands of power wove around the barrow, glowing brighter as they crossed and reinforced each other. Jair could feel the hum of Talwyn’s power and the echo of old, strong magic as the power of the Dread reinforced what Talwyn did. Caught up in the link, Jair felt the damage to the barrow as if it were a physical injury, and he sensed the relief of the land and the Dread as it was restored. Gradually, the mist around them began to thin. One by one, the spirit guides that had accompanied Talwyn into the barrow walked into the mist and disappeared. Talwyn staggered, and Jair glanced to Pevre, who nodded that it was safe to go to her. Jair grabbed Talwyn’s robe and gathered her into his arms as she began to collapse, completely spent.
“Did you see?” Talwyn murmured.
“I saw,” Jair replied. “You were amazing.”
“Then you heard… the warning?”
Jair nodded. “I heard. And we’ll figure out what to make of it later. Right now, I want to get you home and let you rest.” He wrapped her robes around her as if dressing a small child.
Talwyn nodded, but her head fell forward as if she were too exhausted to hold it up. Pevre joined them as they walked back to their horses, and he took Talwyn from Jair until Jair could swing up to the saddle. On the short ride back to the camp, Talwyn nestled against Jair as her horse followed behind them.
Jair was glad that Kenver had already gone to sleep. Talwyn was pale and her breathing seemed shallow. He carried her into the tent and set her on the bed. Talwyn reached out to take his hand.
“Thank you,” she murmured.
“I just stood there,” Jair said, managing a smile. “You did all the hard work.”
“You did more than you know. You sustained me.” Talwyn’s voice was distant and sleepy. Jair brushed the dark hair back from her face and brought her a cup of wine and a few slices of apple.
“Sleep now. We’ll talk with Pevre in the morning. I don’t know what to make of the warning the Dread gave you, but among the three of us, we’ll figure it out. For starters, it seems like the kind of thing Tris should know about. I’m sure I can get a message to him.”
Talwyn’s eyes fluttered closed. “Stay with me,” she murmured.
Jair leaned down to kiss her forehead. “Always, m’lady.”
Chapter Nine
We buried her underneath the willow,” Renn said, as he and Cam stopped just a few paces from the canopy of a large tree. Beneath it lay a cairn of stones. “Alvior couldn’t be bothered, and Father didn’t seem to care. So I came, with Gav, the groundskeeper, and we buried her. The servants came. They loved her. We made sure it was done right.”
Cam looked at his mother’s grave. “You were nine.”
A pained expression crossed Renn’s face. “I grew up pretty quickly after you and Carina left. Losing Mother was only part of it.”
“I’m sorry I wasn’t here to help.”
Renn’s laugh was short and harsh. “It’s Father’s fault, and Alvior’s. Not yours. If Father hadn’t sent you away, I don’t think Mother would have died. It seemed like the fight went out of her when Father forced you and Carina to leave.”
“What happened to Gav?”
Renn looked from the willow out across the sea. From this hilltop, Cam could see where the gray water met the horizon. “He stayed on for a while after Father died. But I got the feeling that he didn’t like Alvior. He said he wasn’t well and left Brunnfen to go live with his daughter.”
Cam nodded, still staring out to sea. “Do you think that was the real reason?”
Renn shrugged. “I don’t know. A lot of the servants just vanished-and while Alvior might have harmed one or two, I don’t think he killed them all. You knew him. He was miserable. I think the servants went back to their farms or families rather than deal with him. Hell, if I’d had anywhere else to go, I’d have joined them.”
“I’m sorry for that, too.”
Renn laid a hand on Cam’s shoulder. “It’s time to stop apologizing for what you couldn’t control, Cam. From what you’ve said, you and Carina had your hands full staying alive. And look at you, King’s Champion. Carina helped to put Tris Drayke on the Margolan throne. None of that would have happened if you’d stayed here. Truth is, I could have run away if I’d have really set my mind to it.” He chuckled. “Probably could have learned to be a tinker, or something useful. But I didn’t, and that was my own fault. So stop apologizing. The important thing is, you came back.”
Cam looked back from the sea to the cairn. “I have to leave again, you know.”
Renn nodded. “I know.” He grinned. “Now tell me the truth-it’s not just the king. Your bride-to-be is waiting.” He paused. “Which reminds me. While you and Rhistiart were out riding the fields, a messenger came from the palace. Brought you a packet from the king and a sealed envelope that looked like a lady’s handwriting. I meant to tell you at breakfast this morning and forgot. It’s on the desk in the study.” He paused. “So… what’s the new lady of the manor like? Don’t tell me she’s one of those porcelain doll aristocrats.”
It was Cam’s turn to laugh. “Rhosyn? Hardly. Oh, she’s got a pretty face and curves that would stop a runaway wagon in its tracks, but she can also carry a full sack of hops without straining. She’s got the only pedigree I value-she’s the daughter of the head of the local Brewers Guild.” He looked toward Brunnfen and sobered. “What she’d make of this place, I don’t know.”
“Rhistiart said that she’s a spitfire. And he said her father offered you a place at the brewery if you decided to stop soldiering.” Renn looked to Cam expectantly. “Would you take it?”
Cam shrugged. “There was a long time when I thought that would be a perfect job when I got too busted up to soldier. But from what Rhistiart and I saw of the grain crop, and from the unofficial survey we made of alehouses in town,” he added, clearing his throat, “I think that a good brewery would do well here. It couldn’t brew worse than the cow piss they sell for ale down in the village.”
Renn laughed. “You’ve tried
the local brew then?”
Cam made a face. “The pond scum that the Divisionists gave me to drink wasn’t as bad as that ‘ale.’ Actually, that’s where Rhistiart is right now. I sent him to scout for a good location to build a pub in town and to do some investigating about the local Merchants Guild.” He looked at Renn conspiratorially. “The ale-brewing business wouldn’t be such a bad way to refill Brunnfen’s coffers, either. If Rhosyn could get her father to loan us a brew master, I’m sure Donelan would give us the title of ‘king’s favorite ale.’ And a tavern makes money year-round-rain, snow, or shine.”
“All joking aside, I’d love for you and Rhosyn to settle here-and Rhistiart, too.”
“You know, for a guy who was on the run a few months ago, Rhistiart’s luck just keeps getting better and better,” Cam replied. “A vayash moru silversmith in Dark Haven gave him an offer as an apprentice, and now, he’s on his way to becoming manager of an alehouse. Plus, I wouldn’t put it past Donelan to offer him a silversmith position at the palace. Getting captured by the Divisionists was the best thing that ever happened to him.”
Cam sobered and grew silent, watching the tall grass blow in the wind beside the cairn. “I’m sorry that mother didn’t live to find out that Carina and I ended up all right. And I’m so sorry that she won’t see her granddaughters.”
“Carina is having twin girls?” Renn grinned broadly. “When you said twins, I assumed a boy and a girl, like you and Carina. Yes, you’re right. Mother would have loved that.” He grew pensive. “You know, there were years when I was angry at everyone after you left. I was angry at Mother for abandoning me and leaving me on my own with Father and Alvior. I was angry at Father and Alvior, and I was angry that you and Carina didn’t take me with you.”
Cam glanced sideways at him. “You were a little young to sign up as a merc. Hell, if I hadn’t been half the size of a mountain, they wouldn’t have believed it when I lied about my age.”
“I didn’t say it made sense. I just said I was angry.” Renn sighed. “I spent a lot of time out here, talking to Mother. And while I can’t see spirits like your friend King Drayke, I don’t really think she ever left Brunnfen. Sometimes, I can sense her in the manor house. It’s particularly strong on the balcony in her room. She would stand there, just staring out at the horizon. I always thought she was hoping she’d see you coming home.”
“You don’t know how often Carina and I thought about it,” Cam replied. “Carina’s first love was a mercenary, Ric. Ric and his older brother, Gregor, ran the merc outfit we signed on with. Ric once offered to lay siege to Brunnfen to avenge Carina.”
“Really? What happened?”
The memory made Cam smile. “It was a very nice idea, except that we were based in Principality and we couldn’t figure out how to get the mercs to Isencroft without accidentally starting a war with Margolan.” He grew wistful. “And then Ric died in a border skirmish and Carina nearly died trying to save him. That’s how I ended up at the palace, you know. The Sisterhood took Carina to see if they could heal her. She went too deep when she tried to save Ric’s life and it was like she couldn’t find her way back. I didn’t know what to do. Gregor was furious that Carina couldn’t save Ric, and he threw us out. I had nowhere to go-again. I knew that we were distant cousins to the king, so I rode to the palace. One day, I just showed up on Donelan’s doorstep and claimed a blood-bond right to serve him.”
Renn’s eyes were wide. “What did he do?”
“Donelan came thumping down the stairs to see what was going on, and he recognized me right away as Father’s son. Seems he’d heard about what Father did and didn’t like it. So he took me in and put me in the Veigonn, his personal guard.”
The manor house tower tolled tenth bells. “I’d better get back and see that the supplies I ordered came in, or we’ll be eating nothing but parsnips and beets,” Renn said with a glance over his shoulder. “Are you coming?”
Cam shook his head. “I’ll be up. I want to stay for a while longer.”
“Don’t wait too long-I can’t promise how much lunch will be left if you’re slow!”
Cam waited until Renn had climbed back up the rocky footpath to the manor before he walked a few steps to a patch of wildflowers and picked a handful. He returned to lay them atop the cairn, and bent to retrieve a small rock, which he added to the rest of the pile. Cam laid a hand on the rock tomb and closed his eyes.
“I don’t know whether or not you’re still here,” he said quietly. “If you are, I know the dead can hear the living. I’m sorry for the grief I caused you. Sorry I wasn’t here to protect Renn. Sorry I couldn’t stand up to Alvior-or Father. I want you to know: Carina and I never stopped thinking about you. We wrote letters, but I guess Alvior or Father made sure they didn’t get through. If you can hear me, then I just want to tell you that everything’s all right. And Carina and I love you.”
An unseasonably cool breeze tousled Cam’s unruly curls. For a few seconds, he thought he saw something shimmer in the air, although the day was not warm enough to see heat rise from the ground. There was no sound, but in that instant, Cam felt a warmth and comfort slip over him, there and gone, that made him suspect that his comments had been heard. He did not try to choke back the tears that streamed down his face. And if the ghost saw, Cam was certain that she understood.
When he had regained his composure, Cam walked back to the trail that led from the manor down to the shore. He turned away from Brunnfen and found himself heading down the path he had taken so often as a boy. Then, like now, he found consolation in the sound of the waves and the fresh spray. His thoughts were a jumble as he walked. When he shook himself out of his brooding, Cam found himself far down the rocky beach, at the base of the cliff that formed Brunnfen’s foundation. He looked out across the water toward the long dock where Asmarr, his father, had kept the boat he loved to take out onto the bay for fishing. Farther out, the bay was quite deep, but silt had filled in along the coastline, and so the pier extended far out from shore. Years ago, large ships could lay anchor in the inlet, and rumor had it that the first lords of Brunnfen had been smugglers. It would be difficult for more than a couple of small boats to come into shore now.
Movement on the pier caught Cam’s eye, and although the day was warm, Cam felt his blood turn to ice. Standing on the dock was his father’s ghost.
Cam’s eyes widened and he felt his heart begin to thud. Asmarr did not seem to see him. Cam watched as his father went through the motions of untying a boat, although there was no boat moored on the dock. Suddenly, Asmarr’s ghost staggered, falling backward as if he had been pushed by an unseen hand. Before the ghost could catch his balance, he staggered again, clutching his head before collapsing. Unseen hands rolled the body off the pier and into the water. Cam watched in horror and remembered something. Asmarr couldn’t swim.
Before Cam could gather his thoughts, the air around him began to stir, and he felt a touch on his shoulder. He spun around to find Asmarr staring at him. The ghost on the dock had been translucent. But the apparition that stood in front of Cam might have passed for a living man had Cam not known that his father was dead. Asmarr’s face was set in a determined glower, and he reached out with both hands, giving Cam a hard shove toward the pier.
Cam tried to step around the ghost. “I didn’t come back here to fight you, Father. You’re dead. It’s over.”
Asmarr blocked his path, shoving him again down the beach. Cam felt his anger rise.
“You’re dead. Your favorite son, Alvior, murdered you. And you still can’t let it go, can you? You can’t accept that I’m back, when you hated me and Carina just for being what we were. Well, I’m not leaving. You threw me out once. You’re not running me off again.”
Asmarr’s expression darkened, and the ghost seemed to grow in size, becoming more solid. A hail of rocks suddenly flew through the air at Cam, pelting him from the direction of the path. Cam spotted a second trail at the far end of the beach. It was on the o
ther side of the dock, but it was the only way back to the manor without winding through the caves. As another shower of rocks flew toward him, Cam began to sprint to the second path.
Rocks struck him on the shoulders and back, and Cam realized that Asmarr’s fury had not abated. The rocks came from the inland side of the beach, and Cam found himself being driven toward the water.
“It’s not enough that Mother died, you want to kill me, too?” Cam shouted. He was sore where the rocks had struck him, and he could feel blood running down the side of his head.
Asmarr’s ghost launched itself at Cam, moving to block his escape. Cam drew his sword and brought the blade down with a killing slice that would have cleaved a living man from shoulder to hip. The blade passed harmlessly through the ghost’s form. Cam swung at Asmarr, and it felt as if his fist hit something solid, though not quite human. Dropping his sword, Cam began to pummel the ghost, all the while realizing that Asmarr was, slowly but surely, forcing him down the pier. He wondered if Asmarr meant to push him into the water, and if that happened, whether the ghost could hold him under. He didn’t want to find out.
The Divisionists did their best to drown me. Goddess! I have no desire to die like that at Father’s hand.
Cam rained blow after blow down on the ghost, but Asmarr’s expression was determined. If the ghost felt the punches, it gave no sign, although Cam knew they would have felled a mortal. Broad-shouldered and ham-fisted, Cam had held his own in enough bar fights and battles to know how to throw a punch. In life, Asmarr could never have withstood Cam’s strikes. Now, Cam knew he was losing the fight.
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