Journey of Wisdom

by Shawna Thomas

  “Neasai?”

  “Chief of healers. Yes, very good.”

  Ilythra hesitated. She didn’t want to pry but there was so much she didn’t know. “How did Ciera die?”

  Aimena hesitated. “That’s part of our history we’d like to forget.”

  “The exile?”

  “Yes.”

  Her instincts were right. If she could determine all the reasons why the Siobani had left the human lands, maybe she could convince them to return. At least long enough to fight for Crioch.

  “It was a horrible time.” Aimena’s voice thickened with sorrow.

  Ilythra startled. “I thought you were born after the exile.”

  “I was. Our memory is different from what I know of human memory. I can remember some things I’ve never seen, passed down through ages in song or story. I see them through other’s minds as though I’ve beheld them with my eyes or experienced in my flesh. The strength of the memory depends on the intensity of the event and how the one remembering felt while it was happening. Do you understand?”

  “I think so. Those things that produced a lot of emotion are easier to remember.”

  Aimena nodded.

  “It’s like Teann,” Ilythra continued. “Teann does not exist in time. If you know how, you can journey back or even forward to view events as though you were there.” She’d done it once. She’d watched Bredych walking alone a stream, felt what he was feeling. So she knew his excitement when two men had appeared on the road before him, shimmering with power. She’d felt his greed.

  “Yes. The Dawn Children have a different relationship to Teann than the humans. We are more attuned to it.” Aimena stared out the window. “You are a stone keeper. Much will be required of you. I think this story will help you understand our decisions better. Would you hear it?”

  There was a slight challenge in the woman’s blue eyes. Ilythra nodded. Aimena moved to the couch and sat. Ilythra joined her.

  Aimena stared off into space and then began. “Long ago, when we lived in the west, Ciera learned that a human woman she called her friend was gravely injured. She journeyed a distance and stayed until the woman recovered. Ciera sent word that she was returning, but many weeks passed and she didn’t. Ewen sent out warriors to find her. They did. She’d been captured by humans.”

  Aimena swallowed and continued. “They tortured Ciera for her blood, believing it would give them long life. They kept her barely alive, bleeding her a little every day. When our war party rescued her, she was beyond even our healing. Arien demanded he lead the search, as his right. He carried her body back to his father.” She paused, glancing down to her hands folded on her lap. “The lamentation was great. She was much loved by her people. But as great as the people grieved, Arien and Ewen grieved more. They stood vigil over Ciera’s body for days. It was then the Riege decided to move us north to these protected lands.” Aimena’s blue eyes brightened with tears.

  “I understand.” Ilythra stared into the flickering flames.

  “What do you understand?” Aimena’s gaze was piercing.

  “I understand why you told me this story. It’s why Arien doesn’t like me, and I thank you for that. It gives me...perspective. But why is Ewen so accepting?”

  “Forgive me. You know I am fond of you. I hope it is not forward that I would even call you friend. But it is not correct to diminish Arien’s feelings into like or even dislike. You bring back Ilydearta. You cannot know the importance of that for us. For Arien.” She shook her head. “But you also represent why we lost part of everything we loved. He’s never recovered from his mother’s death. I’ve heard once he was prankster, rivaling my brother in his escapades, but no longer.

  “Ewen knows all humans aren’t as those who killed his wife. Arien one day will too. Perhaps you will reconcile our peoples. In these lands, by Ewen’s power, we’re protected, since no one enters without permission, but neither do we go out. We’ve lost something precious in that. Our freedom.”

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  The streets below teemed with activity. Vapor escaped from men’s mouths as they navigated their way through the morning chill. Rugians roamed Greton, a possessive attitude in their gait. Peasants in the courtyard below darted out of their way, knowing how many of their neighbors disappeared into the mountain for crimes no worse than standing on a street corner. Bredych released the drapes, blocking the sight. It’s been too long.

  Damn the woman, and damn Erhard for letting her go.

  His steps ate the distance between the walls in the large room. He ignored the plush couches, the glass ornaments reflecting the fire’s glow and the rich tapestries softening the cold stone walls. He should have had word by now. “Damn!” Had she gotten past his guards? Had she made it to the Siobani? The thought of Ilythra and the stone in Siobani hands created a pressure in his head no amount of pacing could release. The heat of anger fueled his steps. How could she, one woman, escape his guards? They must be on their way back with the stone keeper.

  “My lord?” Konrad stood by the door.

  “I didn’t summon you.” Bredych let his irritation show in his voice.

  “I understand. But there are some household matters requiring your attention.”

  He could hear Ilydearta’s melody on the winds of Teann, but distantly. He turned his attention back to Konrad. “Such as?”

  “Many of the servants are ill. We may need to employ some of the village women in the kitchen. Lady Lucin has sent a messenger requesting information on how her nephew is doing.”

  Bredych waved a hand, his anger mounting. “All of these things you can handle, Konrad. It is why you still have a job. Do not bother me with trivial nonsense.”

  “Yes, my lord.” Konrad nodded.

  “Wait.”

  The servant froze then slowly turned. His face was impassive as always.

  “Send for Gotzon. I’d have a word with him.”

  Konrad left as silently as he’d arrived. Bredych settled on the large couch. Erhard lay sniveling in his chamber. The king grew more delusional every day, showing no interest in anything, save the tea he was providing. He gazed at a low table, examining a single piece of parchment, its ink still wet. The vellum gave him sovereignty until Erhard recovered from his ailment. He’d have the king sign it later, for appearance’s sake. He closed his eyes and once again listened to Ilydearta. Ilythra had the stone and she was far away. What if she convinced the Siobani to move?

  He shook his head. That was impossible. Ewen was so afraid of losing the last stone that he would stay hidden in his protected lands until Bredych came and tore the stone from around his neck. He was sure of it.

  Gotzon entered the room, braids dangling from a bowed head. Leather bindings attached various animal pelts to his body. Bredych sat back, enjoying the Rugian warrior’s discomfort.

  “The trackers haven’t returned.”

  “No, my lord.”

  “I’d know why.”

  The Rugian nodded, but his eyes were guarded. “Yes, my lord.”

  “And Gotzon, I’d know why very soon. I can’t stress enough how important it is to bring that woman back to me.”

  Gotzon’s swallow could be heard in the cool chamber. “I will send a messenger bird at once.” The Rugian bowed.

  “Wait.” Bredych drummed his fingers against the chair’s arm. Anger burned in his chest. “Where are the newest prisoners?”

  “We’re preparing them for the journey through the pass.”

  “Don’t. Bring them to me.”

  “Yes, my lord.” Gotzon bowed again and retreated through the oak doors.

  Bredych continued his tapping. Anticipation tinted his anger and he felt a smile steal across his features.

  * * *

  Light beams slanted through the wind
ow, now closed against the cold, illuminating a patch of wooden floor. Ilythra watched the dust motes float among the shafts of light, dancing on the hidden drafts within the room, then turned her attention to her friend, who studied the board between them. Aimena had been teaching her to play a Siobani game while they waited for Ewen to summon her for the meeting.

  “I don’t know how you did that. You play illogically, yet you won.”

  “Perhaps it’s beginner’s luck.” Ilythra smiled.

  “Perhaps.” Aimena continued to study the game board. Ilythra knew she was reviewing every move, trying to determine where she’d erred. The Siobani took their games seriously.

  Ilythra moved to the window, leaving Aimena to her scrutiny of the board. She stretched her arms over her head. Although her muscles were still stiff upon waking, even her ribs felt better.

  A quick knock on the door caused them both to look in that direction.

  Ilythra spun. “Doed.”

  Aimena smiled. “Very good.”

  Arien entered the room. Both women rose.

  Nodding to Aimena, he faced Ilythra. “Ewen wishes to see you.”

  Relief washed over Ilythra and then anxiety gripped her stomach, tightening it into knots. She glanced to Aimena. “How do you say goodbye?”

  “There’s no word in our language for goodbye,” Aimena said. “Soerid is a blessing spoken upon departure.”

  Ilythra paused. “Soerid, then.” She swallowed down the acid coating her throat and followed Arien. This was it.

  “You’re learning our language?” Arien asked as they moved through the hallway.

  “A few words only. But I’d like to learn more.”

  “Then you plan to stay here?”

  She tried to determine the emotion behind the question, but the Siobani’s tone had been too vague. “I suppose that depends on what the council decides.”

  Arien was silent for several heartbeats. “You would go after Crioch alone?”

  Ilythra took a deep breath. Would she? With what she knew about Bredych now, she’d underestimated him when she followed him to Greton. She’d walked into a snake nest and escaped with only a little scratch. Would she risk it again? Suddenly the answer was clear. She smiled. “Yes. I would.”

  Arien fell silent. The feather in his hair danced as he walked. Ewen had explained the feather was from the great snow hawk, a bird representing their house. As a right of passage, each Siobani of the family would travel far to the north in the ice fields where the snow hawk dwelled and request a feather. Ilythra wasn’t sure how they asked a bird for a feather. She knew only they didn’t harm the hawk and couldn’t take a feather without its permission.

  Arien led her to the library. Ewen, and several other council members, stood near the fire. A heated discussion cooled as soon as the two entered the room.

  Manu and Galen smiled. Sheenan nodded, his dark hair restrained in a coil down his back. Several other men were also in attendance.

  “Please, Ilythra, sit,” Ewen said.

  The Siobani settled after Ilythra chose a chair near the fire. Ilydearta sang in proximity to Ealois. Ilythra closed her eyes, listening to the intertwining melodies. If she had to leave, she would miss that. Arien took a seat next to his father.

  A member of the council Ilythra hadn’t met began to speak in Siobani. Even angered, his voice sounded more like wind rushing through the trees than that of someone who spoke in irritation.

  “En Anatarian, Maccrea,” Ewen said. “Have we lost all semblance of hospitality?” The Riege turned to Ilythra. “Ilythra, Maccrea has just arrived at Siann.”

  “My apologies,” conceded Maccrea. He turned to Ilythra. “What guarantee can you give us this man Bredych is Malchor? That he holds Crioch?”

  Ilythra glanced at Ewen, then back to Maccrea. It was obvious they’d started the discussion without her. “That he’s Malchor, none. That he holds Dominion...” Ilythra shrugged. “I’ve only my word.”

  Maccrea turned his countenance back to Ewen. “We risk much for promise of little gain, Riege.”

  “Little gain?” Ilythra shot to her feet. “You would consider Crioch little gain?” Anger coursed through her blood. What was wrong with these people?

  A look passed between the elders.

  Ewen focused on Ilythra. “I sent riders to the human lands. Greton has already moved against Elston. The city is besieged.”

  Ilythra sat heavily in her chair. Tears blurred her eyes but she blinked them away. She’d mourn later. “You see? I told you this would happen. He will not stop until he is stopped. If you don’t do something now, he will be breathing down your necks before you know it.”

  “The Siobani don’t stand ready for battle. We will have to prepare,” Ewen continued.

  “Then you’ve decided to go against Bredych.” Her anger fled, replaced by hope.

  Ewen’s eyes filled with sorrow. “Do you remember the stories I’ve told about what can happen when the stones do battle against one another? I do not wish to battle against Crioch unless I know I can win.”

  “We have two stones. He has only one.”

  “If you had seen the devastation, you would not be so eager—”

  Ilythra blew out a breath of frustration. “I am not eager to go to battle. I am eager to stop Bredych. To return the stone to your people.”

  “And although you learn quickly, you are not battle ready,” Ewen continued as though she hadn’t spoken.

  Ilythra swallowed her pride. “But you are going in to retrieve Crioch?”

  “I have researched it to be certain. If we defeat Bredych’s army and Bredych is slain in battle, another can rightfully claim the stone.”

  “Except me and you.”

  Ewen nodded.

  “I’ll ride with your warriors. I may not be able to use the stone in battle, but I have my sword. I am a trained warrior.”

  “I’d assumed so.” Ewen’s eyes caught the light of the fire. “You must know, the full council isn’t agreed. I take this action on my own.”

  Ilythra glanced to the Siobani gathered—ages of wisdom and experience in a small group of people—and suddenly felt very young.

  “Although I have heard how skilled you are with a sword, I think it necessary for you to learn Siobani warfare if you’re to ride with us into battle.”

  She’d done it. Joy bubbled over the shock and surfaced as a smile. The Siobani would go and meet Bredych in battle and they would return with the stone.

  “Arien has agreed to train you in the use of a bow and Siobani swordplay. Are you willing?”

  Ilythra glanced at the healer. Arien sat silent, his face impassive. She couldn’t tell how he felt about training her, but she wished Ewen had picked anyone else. Still, she’d gotten what she wanted. She wasn’t going to risk the gains because she didn’t like the choice of trainer. “A bow. Yes, I’m willing.”

  “Good. I’ll let you two decide how and when to conduct the lessons.”

  Ilythra focused on Arien. He met her gaze, but his expression still didn’t give her any clue to what he was feeling. She guessed he didn’t like it any more than she did.

  * * *

  Hendrik motioned Aclan forward. His tutor had insisted on going to the village with Aclan. As they slipped between two trees, Aclan stepped on a twig. The crack echoed through the silent forest. Hendrik raised an eyebrow. Aclan scowled, hating the blush that warmed his cheeks. Even he knew he sounded like a wild boar trampling through the forest. Subtlety was something he’d never learned, but by Hendrik’s expression, it was time he did.

  The village lay before him. Had it always looked so poor? The houses leaned at angles. The clothes hanging out to dry were threadbare and washed to a nondescript gray. He knew the dusty road led farther into the village but he wasn’t int
erested in going there. He gazed at the house across the path. Daylight shone through some of the boards, but everything looked neat and tidy. He shuddered. How much different they were from his rooms in the palace.

  A woman emerged from the house, a baby strapped to her hip with a large gray cloth. Another colorless cloth covered her head. He waited. She turned toward the sun and seemed to sigh. The light revealed her features. He swallowed. It was the woman Ilythra had come to see.

  In other circumstances she might have been called beautiful; now she just looked tired. Wisps of brown hair escaped from the cloth, and although he couldn’t see her eyes, her features had once been finely chiseled but had been softened by time.

  He’d taken off any signs of his station, but even his plain clothes were noticeably of better quality than the clothes she wore. He stepped forward, but Hendrik grabbed his shoulder in a viselike grip.

  “She may call for help,” he whispered.

  Aclan stared at his tutor’s hand. At one time, he would have seen Hendrik sent to the dungeon for such a thing. He was tempted to wonder at the change, to determine if it was a change in him or just in his circumstance, but time for contemplation had passed with his childhood. It was time for action. He took a deep breath and met Hendrik’s gaze. There was fear in the blue gaze. “That’s why you’re staying here. One man is not as scary as two, I imagine.”

  Hendrik nodded and dropped his hand. Aclan stepped into view. The woman froze, her expression alarmed, before she turned back toward the house.

  “Please. I mean you no harm,” Aclan called.

  She looked over her shoulder but continued walking.

  “I’m here to ask you about Ilythra.”

  She put a hand on the door.

  She was getting away and with her, any answers she might have. Aclan glanced to where Hendrik hid. He could order him to detain her. He opened his mouth to do so then stopped. No, he wouldn’t force her. That wasn’t the way he wanted to rule. “I’m her friend. She healed me.”

  The woman paused with one hand on the rough wooden door.