Heir of Fain [Faxinor Chronicles #1]

by Michelle L. Levigne

  Kalsan settled down next to Andrixine and handed her a full bowl. She thanked him with a nod and closed her eyes for a hurried, silent blessing.

  "I will keep that warning in mind, Brother Klee,” the unseen man said with a chuckle.

  "May I offer you our company?” Jultar offered after a moment. “We've been on a long hunt ourselves, and it will be good to travel with someone who knows the current state of things in the kingdom."

  "There will be war, am I right?” Brother Klee said, his voice clear in the sudden silence of the room. Only the crackling of the fire and Kalsan's startled gasp beside her broke the waiting stillness around Andrixine.

  "Why would you say that?” Jultar responded with the same calm in his voice.

  "I was Oathbound before I took my vows and became a scholar. There are many signs which cannot be spoken but only seen by those who understand."

  He was quiet a moment, staring into the fire, the light glinting on the starburst pin at his collar. The warriors watched him, nothing but careful interest on their faces. Andrixine schooled her features into neutral waiting, praying she wouldn't betray herself or Brother Klee with her expression.

  "You have been through the mountains into Sendorland,” he continued, “have you not? That is why you have been gone so long from our land. You have watched the people and listened to the whispers in the wind, and you can see and hear and taste the coming war.” He turned enough to meet Andrixine's gaze. “We thank you for the offer and will go with you, but only as far as the Bantilli Trail south to Faxinor. We have a promise to keep to Lady Arriena Faxinor."

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  Chapter Nine

  KALSAN STARED INTO the sun as it topped the trees. He fought not to blink until his eyes watered. When he closed his eyes, after-images burned bright gold. He grinned and rubbed at his eyes and opened them again. Childish games.

  Next to him, the boy, Drixus rode quietly, listening to their elders talking. Kalsan rode behind Jultar and Drixus behind Brother Klee. The scholar was the boy's great-uncle, but Kalsan felt something wrong about the story. They were more master and apprentice in their dealings, though affection was obvious on both sides.

  Maybe, Kalsan thought, he felt something odd in the boy because the uncle was odd. Who would ever have thought a holy man could see to the heart of their mission and guess what had taken the warrior band months of spying to learn? Brother Klee talked about past wars with Jultar as if he had been in them. Kalsan listened eagerly all the night before and now this morning, as the two men traded war stories like generals preparing for battle, examining and discarding old campaign strategies. Drixus listened so intently, Kalsan thought he could push the younger boy off his horse and he wouldn't notice until his bottom hit the pebbly forest road.

  He liked Drixus. Kalsan watched the pale, thin boy for a few seconds. Something about his face and movements—had Drixus trained to be a holy scholar like his uncle and then changed to be a warrior? Sometimes holy folk had visions from Yomnian that led them to do strange things.

  Kalsan wished he could have at least one vision, one bit of guidance. He had prayed hard last night, after the talk faded around the fire and they all curled up in their blankets to sleep. He envied Drixus, traveling with a man who could hear Yomnian's voice and understand holy writ when he read it.

  Maybe he should give up being a warrior—only for a few years—and take retreat himself? Would that bring him closer to Yomnian's heart?

  A moment of thought and Kalsan pushed that idea aside. He muffled a snort of laughter. What community of holy scholars would accept him? They would try, if only out of pity for his hunger, but he would never fit. No matter how much he wanted to learn to hear Yomnian's voice.

  Looking at the boy next to him again, Kalsan decided Drixus couldn't be as skilled as the length of his warrior braids proclaimed unless he had been training as a warrior since he could pick up a sword. Kalsan vowed if Drixus asked him why his own braids were so short, he would pummel him, liking or no liking, frailty or no frailty.

  They rode down the trail, and the sun climbed above the trees. Jultar and Brother Klee talked wars and strategies, Kalsan and Drixus listened, and the warriors behind them talked in soft tones.

  His gaze kept drifting back to study Drixus. Something about the boy nibbled at his curiosity. The shape of his face—a trifle too smooth in the wrong places? Or was that just his youth? Would the advent of a beard in a few years get rid of that hint of sweetness, the curves of his mouth? Kalsan's face grew hot when he realized he had been staring at Drixus’ mouth and eyes and letting images of various village girls fit the boy's features.

  That unseen woman haunted his dreams every night, making the village girls somehow less appealing, even when they smiled and winked and flipped the hems of their skirts to give inviting glimpses of ankle and calf. Kalsan wondered if he would try to find his vision woman in every place he passed. Now he even tried to see her features on a young boy's face. Kalsan scolded himself to get such thoughts out of his head.

  Drixus was fourteen at the most, Kalsan decided and turned his eyes to the trail and his ears to listening to his master. Fourteen, and poisoned by an enemy of his family. Nobility, by the silver in his braids. Not just a touch of the noble blood, but close enough to the inheritance to warrant enemies? His clothes were plain, though new. His saddle and horse were the betraying clue. Understated elegance in the saddle and a high-blooded horse, even if the color of the big, healthy stallion looked wrong.

  Kalsan grinned, remembering the trouble he had that morning getting Fala out of her stall next to Grennel. She would be in season soon, and mares of her line had a tendency to choose their own mates. Kalsan understood Fala's restlessness. He hoped the village they stayed in that night would be large enough for dancing and music and pretty girls to shove the mystery woman from his thoughts.

  But the mystery of young Drixus nibbled at his thoughts. Kalsan liked him well enough from the times they talked, and his manners and willingness to help with any chore. Maybe he was too willing. Maybe Drixus was high enough nobility that this rough life on the road was little more than an adventure to him.

  Kalsan wondered if Drixus was close enough to inheriting the ancestral estate that nasty relatives posed a problem, or even a threat. He paused a moment and sent up a prayer of thanks that he was the younger son of a younger son and would never inherit Hestrin. If that was Drixus’ problem, he felt sorry for the boy.

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  Chapter Ten

  "YOUR LESSONS CONTINUE, daughter,” Brother Klee said under his breath.

  Andrixine stared up at him, more startled at his term of address than the fact he had approached her from behind and she had not sensed him. Had she been that caught up in her grumbling, or was she that tired from their long day on the road? Jultar's warrior band set a demanding pace, as if to make up for time lost somewhere. She hadn't considered the day wearying until she got down from Grennel's back.

  "We are quite alone,” he said, a smile cracking the solemn mask of his face. Beyond them, the bustling tide in the inn's courtyard flowed without a pause to register their presence. “What were you thinking?"

  "I am a spoiled child,” she responded after a moment. It was no good hiding her thoughts from Brother Klee. “I want my lessons whenever I think of a question, and privacy to talk about anything.” She shrugged and looked away. She couldn't decide if the twinkle in his eyes was comforting or not.

  "You are comfortable with strangers, and your disguise is whole. You are accepted by seasoned warriors, who speak freely before you. Young Kalsan has a questing heart, and you always speak wisely in our discussions, grasping what he needs to know before most of the others. That alone shows the sword chose well when it chose you. These two days with Jultar's warriors have been an education for you, also."

  "It's not the same.” She turned, pivoting on the corner of the building where she leaned. “Forgive me—I sound lik
e a whining child a third of my years."

  "It is understandable.” He caught her chin with two fingers and gently tipped her head up so their eyes met. “I am proud of you. Merely open your eyes and observe. Consider what you see and hear around you. And repeat your lessons in your mind."

  A party of horsemen passed them, coming into the inn courtyard. She waited until a stable boy met the men and led their horses away.

  "Easier said than done, Uncle,” she said, shrugging and conjuring up a smile for him.

  "That is the way of it in the beginning.” He looked around as a voice shouted his name through the courtyard din. “Ah, supper is ready. Coming, nephew?” Brother Klee turned and headed toward the door of the inn. Andrixine followed.

  Brother Klee was right, she conceded. Everything was a lesson to learn if she knew how to look at it properly.

  Their journey had changed. Did it really hinder her that she couldn't ask all the questions that came to mind as they rode? At every village, Brother Klee always found the right person to ask questions, seeking the men who kidnapped her mother. There was no sign yet, but they would reach the place from her vision soon, and until then there was much to learn.

  Lord Jultar recognized the experience and wisdom of Brother Klee and spent the days and evenings talking battles and strategy with him, asking about current feelings in the kingdom, the harvests, the rainfall this spring, on and on, until she thought the man knew everything there was to know about the land. Listening, she saw a pattern and could guess where the old warrior's questions led. Sometimes.

  She liked Kalsan. He had a friendly smile and didn't challenge her. They shared the care of the horses, and he complimented her skill. He never lectured, as if she couldn't understand what seasoned warriors discussed. He asked what she thought when the evening discussions around the fire turned philosophical or theological. He even showed respect when she made a point that the older, seasoned warriors hadn't considered. He made her feel that maybe she wasn't as far from being a proper Sword Bearer as she believed.

  The problem was that last night, after seeing Kalsan kissing a village girl, she saw his features in the misty dark mask of the man who haunted her dreams. Andrixine dreaded the thought of wearing a silly smile and mooning after Kalsan like that girl did when they rode away in the morning.

  Better for her dreams to focus on rescuing her mother. Andrixine prayed every night for sword-granted visions. They came, they confirmed she and Brother Klee were on the right road, but they didn't help her feel any better. It was nearly a week now since they had taken to the road. When would they find the men who had taken her mother, or at least a hard, strong clue to their identities or whereabouts?

  Andrixine decided she was disappointed they were staying in the inn tonight. Another night in a trail house would be delightful, cooking over a fire, listening to war tales, humming along when the few musicians in the group plucked songs from flute and harp. It made her nightly task of checking, cleaning and mending their gear almost pleasant. Being busy until she fell asleep kept her mind from roaming in dangerous directions.

  Tonight there were stable boys to assist travelers in those tasks. Andrixine found herself with nothing to do after the evening meal. Brother Klee was again engrossed in discussions with Jultar in the warlord's room. There was no excuse she could make to have herself included, even if just to listen. If Brother Klee thought she would benefit from the discussions, he would have invited her.

  She decided it would be good to explore the village for a little while. Night let the other members of their traveling party take advantage of the inn, the dancing square and the willing company of the village girls. Andrixine found herself alone to do whatever she wished. She certainly didn't want to watch Kalsan kiss another pretty girl.

  She wandered down to the river, along the sandy pathway, listening to the gurgle of the water as it ran over the stones of the ford. The air was heavy with late flowers and leaves warmed by the sun all day. Would she be able to swim? No, the moon was too bright, too full, the trees and shadows too thin around the riverbanks to permit it.

  She perched on a slab of rock overhanging the water and threw stones at the reflections of the stars. On nights like this back home, she could talk Lorien into swimming with her. They would put on old tunics and trousers and climb down the vines from her bedroom window in the dark, to wade in the pond in their mother's private garden. The water would be warm, holding the sun's heat in its shallows. Or if they escaped early enough in the evening, they would go to their special place in the forest where a bend in the river made a perfect swimming hole and where no one could ever come upon them unawares.

  A tightness grew in her throat and pressure burned at the back of her eyes. Andrixine looked at the moon and found it blurring. Something warm trickled down her cheek and she wiped away the tear with surprise.

  Perhaps she had been too busy to feel homesick until now. Perhaps the shock of everything that had happened to her was finally wearing away.

  Voices. Andrixine moved off her perch, glad for the interruption. She caught movement among the trees further down the bank and her hand strayed to the knife at her belt. A moment later she realized the voices weren't threatening. No one who giggled that way could be a threat, except to sanity.

  She stepped back into the shadowy shelter of the nearest tree and watched a young couple run hand in hand down to the water's edge. Both were average village youths, healthy, tanned from outdoor work, barefoot. Beyond that, Andrixine could see few details in the shadows and moonlight. The girl giggled again, setting Andrixine's teeth on edge. She watched them embrace, mouths fastened together as if they helped each other breathe.

  She recalled the few times Feril had tried to catch her alone and kiss her. She hadn't liked it. He was always either drunk or trying to impress her with his strength.

  Andrixine watched the couple at the water's edge. The girl stopped giggling. They sank to the ground, the girl in the boy's lap. In the night quiet, Andrixine thought she heard soft moans. She took a few steps closer, intrigued, then froze. They indulged in caresses, tugging at each other's clothes.

  She was sure it was wrong for them to be so intimate—and wrong for her to watch—but she couldn't seem to turn away. Her breath caught in her throat.

  "What would your uncle say?” Kalsan whispered, coming up behind her. He laughed, skipping backwards as she whirled on him, her knife half out of its sheath.

  "My uncle—” Andrixine nearly blurted that she hated her Uncle Maxil, but she caught herself. She turned back to the couple by the river. She glimpsed movement, and her heart leaped into her throat as the boy leaned his sweetheart backwards until they lay entwined among the high grass. A vision of Cedes came to her, and she waited for the girl to scream. “He's—"

  "Don't you know it's rude to spy on young lovers?” Kalsan took hold of her arm and started leading her away.

  "But she—"

  "She'd be calling for help by now if she didn't want him,” Kalsan said, laughter thickening his voice. “Come on. Do you have a filthy mind and want to watch?” He jerked harder on her arm and quickened his pace.

  "Is that really supposed to be...” She couldn't find the right word. “Pleasant?” she hazarded.

  "Oh, indeed. You mean you've never...” His eyes sparkled, teasing and yet holding some disbelief.

  "I've been too busy to learn about such things,” she hurried to say, glad of the darkness of the trees to hide her blush. What about her dreams, she wondered.

  "From the length of your braids, that's likely.” Kalsan shook his head. “Such a sheltered life for one so skilled. Rather, as skilled as you're reputed to be."

  "I can protect myself very well.” She smiled at the badgering, sensing the teasing in his words. It was a relief.

  "Oh, I don't doubt that,” he responded so quickly Andrixine heard challenge in his voice.

  "You do doubt me. You think my braids are decoration and nothing more."

&nbs
p; "I didn't say that. But if you'd like to prove your skill with me—"

  "I accept!” She held out her hand. Kalsan frowned, then closed his eyes and shook his head before accepting her hand.

  "You may regret this, young Drixus,” he said, no arrogance in his voice, but experience.

  "Only if my uncle catches us."

  They squared off in the courtyard before the stables. Kalsan went inside long enough to get wooden practice swords. Brenden agreed to act as judge. They backed away from each other ten paces and raised their swords high overhead to signal readiness. Several warriors from their group and a few people from the village gathered as onlookers. Almost everyone else was still dancing. Andrixine wondered for a moment why Kalsan hadn't been among them.

  "Begin!” Brenden called, when it felt as if they stood with their arms raised for hours.

  Both stepped forward, lowering the swords to shoulder height, eyeing each other, knees bent, balancing on their toes. Andrixine felt her mouth widen to an eager grin to match Kalsan's. This would be interesting, at least.

  Instinct saved her shoulder from a nasty bruise. She caught the downward swing of his sword before she could think, spinning away and swinging her own weapon around to smash against his ribs. Kalsan caught it with an awkward sideways upward thrust and pushed her away. He laughed and backed up a few steps. Andrixine met his grin but saved her breath for the next lunge and parry.

  She lowered her arms slightly, wondering if she could fool him into relaxing or attacking at the wrong moment. Kalsan stayed still, hands gripping the hilt tighter, his fingers turning white for a moment. Andrixine shifted one foot forward, then skipped back. Kalsan nodded, acknowledging her ploy. He swung wide, leaping back before the blade came near her. She held still, refusing to meet the attack and open herself.

  With a shout, she spun on one foot and leaped forward, crouching low. Her sword smacked loudly against his thigh. She let herself fall forward onto her knees and then roll back to her feet again. As she turned, she slapped the back of his knees. A laugh escaped her as she caught the surprise on Kalsan's face. She grunted as his blade came down on her shoulder, glancing off when it didn't hit square.