Rise

by Andrea Cremer

  “How did you explain your presence here?” Lukasz frowned. “You don’t have duties at Cernon?”

  “The Guards’ tasks at Cernon are rapidly shifting,” Jérôme said. “Our commander requested an emissary be sent to the city to lay groundwork for reasserting Conatus’s control of the harbor. My sister’s husband lives here and is a wealthy merchant with ties to the region’s nobility. I volunteered for the post—to learn more of what my superiors have planned, as well as to ensure that this sanctuary was made available to any who found themselves exiled.”

  The implications of Jérôme’s words choked the room.

  “You were expecting us, then?” Lukasz asked when the silence had become too much to bear.

  Jérôme took a cup from the table and filled it at the wine barrel. “I considered the task preparing for the worst.”

  “We’re the worst, then,” Kael muttered. “Wonderful.”

  “What do you know?” Lukasz returned to his chair, and Jérôme sat opposite the commander.

  “Only that the darkness creeping across my homeland now began in yours,” Jérôme said. “I hope you can tell me how that came to be.”

  “One of our Circle,” Lukasz told him, “the lady Eira, pursued a dangerous course that has overtaken Tearmunn.”

  “It’s gone much further than that, but I knew not that a woman was behind all of this.” Jérôme took a long pull from his cup. “Though I confess it doesn’t surprise me.”

  “I beg your pardon?” Ember moved to stand beside Lukasz.

  Arching an eyebrow at her, Jérôme said, “It’s well known that women fall to the devil’s temptations more readily than do men.”

  “Is it?” Ember glared at the French knight.

  Barrow approached Jérôme, hand on his saber’s hilt. “You will apologize to Lady Morrow. Or my blade will defend her honor.”

  Jérôme stood up, reaching for his scabbard.

  “Stop!” Lukasz raised his hand. “I will not have quarrels between allies that are so few. Jérôme, Lady Eira is an exception, not a rule by which to judge all women. Even now, Eira’s sister, Cian, works at great risk to support us from Tearmunn.” He stood and placed his hand on Ember’s shoulder. “Lady Morrow is among the bravest knights I’ve had the privilege to fight beside.”

  “Very well, I shall hold my tongue when it comes to women’s weaknesses.” Jérôme offered Barrow a haughty smile. “You should be grateful I call your commander my friend.”

  “Jérôme.” Lukasz pointed to a chair, and Jérôme returned to his seat.

  Barrow stood by, his hand still gripping his sword hilt.

  “Be at peace, Lord Hess.” Lukasz watched Barrow until he let go of the hilt. “Fill wine cups for each of us, Kael. We will drink together as befits brethren—and sisters—in arms.”

  Lukasz pulled out the chair beside him, gesturing for Ember to sit at his right hand. Barrow took the chair on the commander’s left. After distributing brimming cups around the table, Kael sat beside Jérôme.

  Lifting his cup, Lukasz intoned, “To driving back the dark.”

  They raised their glasses to his toast, but after drinking, Jérôme murmured, “I fear it is too late for that.”

  “What’s happened here?” Kael asked Jérôme.

  Jérôme leaned back in his chair, his former arrogance overwhelmed by weariness. “We’ve had many visitors from across the sea.”

  “From Tearmunn?” Lukasz frowned at him.

  “Yes,” Jérôme answered. “One of the eldest members of your Circle—the cleric called Thomas—has been here several times.”

  Barrow scowled into his wine cup. “I thought Thomas better than this.”

  “He wasn’t alone,” Jérôme said. “He came with an official missive from the Church, carried by your abbot.”

  “Crichton?” Kael gaped at Jérôme, then shook his head. “I thought he was a prisoner in his own manor.”

  “Apparently Eira has seen fit to send him out in her stead,” Barrow replied. “Albeit on a leash.”

  “Thomas does most of the talking,” Jérôme added. “My sense is that the abbot’s presence conveys the Church’s interest in the changes at work in our order.”

  “What message did Thomas bring?” Ember asked, weathering the snide look she earned from Jérôme.

  “He spoke of a great discovery at Tearmunn,” Jérôme told them, making a show of addressing Lukasz rather than Ember. “A mystery solved that would forever change our place in the world and end our struggle against the dark creatures with which we have so long contended.”

  Barrow didn’t look at Jérôme, but asked, “Did anyone have ears to hear this message?”

  “Many,” Jérôme answered in irritation. “To Thomas, my companions at Cernon showed great respect, and the abbot they were all too happy to fawn over.”

  “I’m sure Abbot Crichton welcomed their attention.” Kael drained his cup and went in search of another.

  “What did they ask of you?” Lukasz stood up, following Kael to the wine barrel.

  Jérôme handed his empty cup to the commander when he passed by. “To prepare the way for the future.”

  Lukasz placed a full cup of wine in front of Jérôme.

  “Thank you,” Jérôme said. “I hope you noticed that I provided a barrel of very good wine.”

  “We noticed,” Kael said, pointing at his newly brimming cup as he settled into the chair beside Jérôme.

  Jérôme took a sip of his wine, then continued. “Thomas said he and the abbot were the forerunners of much more important visitors. When these guests he spoke of come to Cernon, we’re to partake in a ritual that will imbue us with new power.”

  “It must be Eira who’s coming,” Barrow said quietly.

  Lukasz nodded. “And this Bosque Mar she’s summoned.”

  “Who?” Jérôme’s brow furrowed.

  “Lady Eira has become obsessed with harnessing the power of the nether,” Lukasz told Jérôme. “And she seems to have fulfilled her desire by allying with a stranger. A man who calls himself Bosque Mar.”

  Swirling the red liquid in his cup, Jérôme said, “Thomas made no mention of Lady Eira or this Bosque Mar. He only warned us that with great change comes resistance and that we must be watchful for any who would stand in the way of our ascension.”

  “That would be us.” Kael laughed darkly.

  Jérôme half smiled. “You don’t say.”

  “Were no objections raised when Thomas spoke of these things?” Ember asked Jérôme.

  “Think of where you sit.” Jérôme spoke harshly. “Where you find refuge. The Templars were destroyed by the ones they served, by priests and monarchs who had been their most ardent supporters. Many in Conatus live in fear that one day we shall meet the same fate. Your Eira has become their champion. Like a weed, she sends tendrils out in every direction. Finding fertile ground, they take root.”

  “This new allegiance grows out of fear, not honor.” Barrow spat the words.

  “Fear holds more sway than honor,” Jérôme told him. “Does that truly surprise you?”

  “I had hoped my brethren of Conatus would prove better,” Barrow answered.

  Jérôme tilted his cup at Barrow. “They are but men, prone to sin and selfishness.”

  “And yet you’re here,” Ember said quietly.

  Jérôme met her steady gaze and smiled slowly.

  Unflinching, Ember went on, “Does that mean you still have honor?”

  “I’d like to think so.” Jérôme’s laugh was brittle. “I trust my instincts, and my heart whispers that the future Thomas heralds is forged of blood and shadow. I will not align myself with that which I took a sacred oath to fight.”

  “Nor shall we.” Lukasz raised his cup. This time they drank their toast in solemnity.

  “I came here tonight to warn you.” Jérôme wiped his mouth. “The houses of Conatus offer no refuge. Lady Eira’s emissaries have traveled far and wide, spreading their message. I doub
t there is any keep where word of your arrival wouldn’t be swiftly dispatched to Tearmunn.”

  Barrow leaned forward. “Are you telling us to hide?”

  “For now,” Jérôme answered.

  “We’re not cowards,” Barrow snapped.

  “I’m sure you’re not,” Jérôme replied. “But I hope you’re not fools either. If your whereabouts are known, you’ll be hunted. You can’t hope to make a stand if you’re forever running from Eira.”

  “He’s right,” Lukasz said to Barrow, who sat back in his chair, though his jaw remained set in anger.

  Jérôme spoke to the commander. “There are others like me who see the evil in this. And more still who have little care for our sacred mission, but see the rise of a powerful order of knights—the Templars restored—as working against their interests. These merchants and nobles will aid us when called upon.”

  “It’s a start,” Kael said. “But it sounds like you’re preparing for a war.”

  “Is that not what this is?” Jérôme finished his wine.

  Lukasz passed a hand over his tired eyes. “Not yet. It may come to that.”

  “And I would have an army ready,” Jérôme replied.

  Barrow leaned forward. “An army will do no good against the creatures at Eira’s command. These things are not known to us, and our weapons cannot harm them.”

  Jérôme straightened in alarm. “Is this true?”

  “It is,” Lukasz answered. “We don’t know how to battle this new enemy.”

  Taking a long breath, Jérôme said, “Then that is your task. I will continue to gather allies, but you must find a way to fight the creatures Eira has brought into our world. Search for a place where you can get word to the East. The old Templar fortresses have libraries that house the mysteries of our order. You might find the answer within those ancient texts.”

  “I’d hoped to reach Krak des Chevaliers by ship,” Lukasz told him. “But our vessel sank after it was attacked by Leviathan.”

  Jérôme’s eyes went wide. Recovering, he said, “Let us pray that Eira believes you lie at the bottom of the sea.”

  “That’s indeed what I’ve been praying for.” Kael’s speech was a bit slurred, and Ember noticed he’d refilled his wine cup yet again.

  Lukasz rested his head in his hands. “But where to go?”

  “I know where we might find refuge,” Ember offered quietly, her idea forming as she spoke.

  Barrow looked at her in surprise. “Where?”

  Ember met Barrow’s gaze, steeling herself, for she knew he wouldn’t like what she was about to say. “I have a promise to keep.”

  Kael and Lukasz exchanged a worried glance.

  “You don’t mean—” Kael began.

  “Yes,” Ember cut him off. “I told Alistair I would go to my sister at the Château de Lusignan.”

  Barrow was shaking his head. “If he believes you go there, how could it possibly be a safe place for us?”

  “Because Alistair expects I’ll go there only if I’ve left you,” Ember told him. “I can ask Agnes to write to him, and she’ll tell him I’ve arrived alone if I ask her to. She wouldn’t betray your presence.”

  Lukasz turned his wine cup in his hands. “That may work.”

  “Is the Count de La Marche friendly to Conatus?” Ember asked Jérôme.

  “He has little interest in our work,” Jérôme told her. “Our dealings with him have been limited.”

  “Good,” Ember said. “Then he’s unlikely to report our arrival.”

  Jérôme shrugged. “True enough.”

  “I don’t like it.” Barrow sulked.

  Kael traded his half-full wine cup for Barrow’s empty one. “Of course you don’t, my friend. But that’s not because it’s a poor idea.”

  Barrow took the cup, but gave Kael a puzzled look.

  “Drink up, Lord Hess.” Kael winked at him. “Jealousy doesn’t look good on you.”

  WHEN EMBER WOKE, Lukasz was already sitting at the table with Jérôme. The French knight had left them to rest while he went to gather additional provisions they’d need for the trip to Lusignan.

  Ember rose from her pallet and went to join them. When she sat, Lukasz tore a hunk of bread from a loaf and handed it to her.

  “Break your fast with us, Lady Morrow.”

  Still drowsy, Ember chewed on the bread while the commander and Jérôme continued their conversation.

  “It will take you the day to reach the château,” Jérôme said. “But if you follow my advice, you shouldn’t have trouble.”

  “That’s Ember’s decision,” Lukasz answered. “I won’t make it for her.”

  Ember looked up from her breakfast. “What must I decide?”

  Jérôme stood up and went to collect a bundle that had been left near the tunnel to the stables. Barrow and Kael were stirring on their pallets.

  “Wake up, you two!” Lukasz called to them. “We should be on the road at dawn.”

  With yawns and some grumbling, Kael and Barrow made their way to the table.

  Kael groaned as he sat down. “I hate riding on a sour stomach.”

  “Then you should drink less,” Lukasz said, offering Kael a skin of water and a hard smile.

  “You can be a cruel man.” Kael took the water.

  Lukasz’s smile softened. “I know.”

  Barrow sat beside Ember. He quietly accepted the bread and cheese she offered. Beneath the table he rested his hand on her knee, his thumb grazing her lower thigh, and Ember was suddenly very much awake.

  At the end of the table, Jérôme unwrapped the bundle to reveal tightly packed clothing. He separated the pieces. He pulled out chausses and breeches, shirts and cloaks. What made Ember choke on a bit of bread was the appearance of a gown.

  Jérôme shook the rich emerald-green brocade until it unrolled to its full length and held the dress up for Ember to see. She bit back a groan.

  “Does it please you?” he asked. “I thought it would match your eyes.”

  Ember didn’t answer him, instead holding him with a cold gaze.

  With a sigh, Jérôme said, “I am not jesting, Lady Morrow. I brought the gown for a purpose. You cannot go to your sister’s husband in that ragged dress you’re wearing.”

  “I thought not to go in a dress at all,” Ember answered.

  Jérôme’s eyebrows went up. “Well, that would be interesting.”

  Ember made a sound of disgust, and Barrow rose, his hands becoming fists. Before he could speak, Jérôme said, “Peace, friend. I meant no harm—I only thought to lighten the spirit of this dark morning.”

  “Sit down, Barrow.” Kael threw a hard bread crust at Barrow. “It’s too early for chivalry. You’re making my headache worse with such noble posturing.”

  Barrow stared in surprise at Kael, but after a moment he laughed. “I shall spare your aching head, then.”

  “Ember.” Lukasz took up the conversation. “Jérôme discussed a tactic with me, and I think you should hear it.”

  Ember looked at the French knight.

  “Do you want to arrive at Count de La Marche’s estate as a noblewoman or a warrior?” Jérôme said, gesturing to the dress and then the pile of men’s clothes. “I leave the choice to you, but consider to whom the count will respond more warmly—a contingent of knights or his wife’s noble sister and her retinue.”

  She looked at the two sets of clothing. Resigned, Ember reached for the dress.

  Jérôme nodded his approval, but his expression wasn’t gloating—a good thing, for if he had watched her acquiescence with a snide smile, Ember would have wanted to don a pair of breeches just to spite the Frenchman.

  “It’s the wiser course, Ember,” Lukasz told her. “You can dress here. We’ll take the clothes Jérôme brought for us and change in the stables. Then we’ll ready the horses and wait for you.”

  He stood up, gesturing to Barrow and Kael. “Come on, then.”

  “I haven’t finished my breakfast,” Kael s
aid, pointing to a half-eaten wedge of cheese.

  “Bring it with you.” The commander disappeared into the tunnel with Jérôme behind him, his arms full of clothing.

  Muttering under his breath, Kael bound up the bread loaf and cheese in a cloth and went after them.

  “What you wear doesn’t change who you are,” Barrow whispered in Ember’s ear. “Never forget that.”

  “Thank you,” she said.

  He kissed her lightly and left the table.

  “Barrow,” Ember called after him. When he turned, she said, “I also haven’t forgotten what happened the last time I exchanged my warrior’s clothes for a dress.”

  “Nor have I,” he said, smiling. “Would that our companions weren’t awaiting me, or I would give you more to remember.”

  He disappeared into the tunnel, and Ember hugged the silk brocade to her body, letting the warmth of the memory she did have wash over her. After finishing her bread, Ember spread the gown on one of the pallets. She couldn’t deny that the dress was beautiful. Its deep green hue reminded her of the dark pines that covered Scottish hills.

  Ember pulled off her rough wool dress and put it aside. The silk brocade was as pleasing to her hands as to her eye. The gown slid on easily. Its low, broad scooping neck revealed her chemise at the bodice and shoulders. Ember grimaced, knowing that the dingy pale cloth contrasted poorly with the fineness of the green silk, but there was nothing to be done about it.

  The lacing for this gown was at Ember’s side rather than the back. She tightened the cords, tying them off when the silk wrapped her torso in a snug embrace.

  Just as she couldn’t improve the state of her chemise, Ember had little luck tidying her hair. She pulled her fingers through its length until her auburn tresses were free of tangles and decided that was good enough.

  The sound of a man’s cough drew her eyes to the tunnel opening. Jérôme stood watching her, a playful smile on his lips.

  “I see there was a noblewoman hiding beneath the peasant dress,” he said. “And a beautiful one at that.”

  Rather than reply, Ember belted on Silence and Sorrow, fastening a cloak over her dress so the weapons would be hidden.