Blood and Water_The Lionheart Province

by J. R. Castle

  A tickle of nervousness traveled down Darnel’s back. They’d soon reach the Brethren’s hidden fortress, and he hated when they spent time with the Order. “What will we do with the boy, Master? He doesn’t seem willing to comply with your commands. I fear he will try again to escape if we let him loose.”

  Maybe he could avoid having to mingle with the strange wizards if he was charged with caring for the boy.

  Fajer turned in the seat toward Darnel. “I do not intend to let him loose. I’d hoped he would travel with us for a couple of more moons while I took care of a few other matters, but…he seems unwilling. So that is why we’ve returned home sooner than planned. The Brethren will accept my offering.” He flicked the reins again. “We will have to wait for the moon to grow fat and then we’ll conduct the ceremony.”

  “What ceremony?”

  Fajer chuckled. “Until you agree to bond yourself to me, I’m afraid you’ll not get any answers to your many questions, my dear Grunt.”

  The Brethren of the Solstice Order had broken away from the Council of the Archmages living on the isle of Lalet. The Archmages were all about doing good with their powers. But they were a strict order, demanding of their members, even more so than the Light King was.

  Darnel had no interest in joining any order. He would not grow dependent on anyone besides himself. Once he learned what he could from this Order, and from Fajer, he would break ties and strike out on his own. Except, from what Fajer was saying, he would get nothing unless he was willing to give up the one thing he held most dear, his freedom.

  “Will they allow me to enter this time?” Darnel inquired, “I told you how I feel about joining—”

  “Yes, yes, I know, Grunt.” He patted Darnel’s back. “It’s a good thing I like you. Your arrogance will be your downfall one day, rest assured. You will be permitted entrance under my mark. Which you will need to allow me to imprint on your skin.”

  “What do you mean?” Darnel scooted to the edge of the seat. If he moved any farther, he’d tumble off and fall into the deep canyon below. “What kind of mark? Like that prisoner has on his shoulder? Forget it. I’ll stay out—”

  “I thought you wished to increase your powers, boy? I plan to stay here during the cold season, so this will not be a quick visit as it was before. Which is why, this time, you will not be permitted entrance without my mark. Better to be pledged to me, don’t you think, than to return to being a nomad?”

  Darnel’s teeth clamped together until his jaw started to hurt. Blast it all! His desire to know more warred with his wish to remain free of any bonds. But if he didn’t give a little, he’d never get the answers to his many questions. Fajer was his only hope in learning more about how to wield his powers. “What exactly will accepting your mark cost me, Fajer?”

  Despite Darnel’s lack of respect, the sorcerer made no indication of his displeasure. Instead, he answered matter-of-factly, “Once you take my mark, you and I will be bound to each other. That means the moment you are no longer under my authority, you forfeit your life and will be hunted down by my Brethren, I’ve told you this before. Which is why you’ve refused and why I’m not willing to share too many of my secrets with you. Yet, here we are, still traveling together despite our mutual distrust.”

  “Yes, here we are.” Darnel realized he stepped on the edge of a blade but didn’t that keep life interesting? He had walked this earth long before Fajer was born and would continue on, long after the sorcerer returned to the earth.

  Darnel’s bloodline would preserve him for a few hundred years, at least. What he needed to be cautious of was not allowing anyone to know his true species. Such knowledge in the hands of a clan of power-hungry wizards would put him at too great of a risk.

  One look at Fajer and one would assume he came from an elf and human union, as did most wizards. A few were Curian mixes, even if they forbade the blending of races. But Logorians, from what he’d been told, did not mix with mere mortals and that included elfin creatures and Curians. With the exception of his parents.

  That prince, Issah, had wanted Darnel or Darsiderous, as was his true name, to stay in Aloblase. They would find a place for him, Issah promised. He could attend the Academy, if he wished, and learn to hone his giftings along with the rest of them. Except his Logorian peoples pretended he did not exist. His own father would not lay claim to him and had fled the White City to live in seclusion in a far corner of the land.

  His mother, a Curian, had been banished from the Great Halls of Knowledge. She had raised her son alone on the outskirts of Aloblase, as best as she could, until sickness, caused by a broken heart, overtook her. She’d welcomed death with open arms.

  Not even his own mother cared to stay with him.

  Every day he had remained in Aloblase was a painful reminder that he was nothing more than an enigma nobody wished to deal with.

  Darnel did better on his own anyway.

  “Well, Grunt, what will your decision be? Should I drop you off here and let you find your own way?” The ponies had slowed to a walk. “I will miss you and that’s the truth. I’ve grown fond of you and had hoped we could work together. I think we could make a powerful team.”

  Darnel had a clear view of the land spreading out from the steep cliffs of the Mire Woods. In the far distance were farmlands and more woods that soon blended into the ancient forest of Wilderland.

  He did not wish to wander alone again. Despite Fajer’s annoying habits, he also liked the Wizard. Besides, if he left now, he’d never have a chance to reclaim the Curian’s all-seeing globe.

  “Where will you put the mark?” For some reason, he wished for it to be somewhere that he could see it.”

  Fajer pulled the cart to a stop. “Wherever you wish for me to put it. Though it must be somewhere clearly visible. Your arm, shoulder or even your hand will suffice.”

  Darnel extended his left hand. “Very well. But if you go back on your word… swear to me, Fajer, that you will indeed teach me your skills.”

  “Yes, I will. So long as you do not hide from me, I will not hide from you.” He grabbed Darnel’s hand in his own. A searing pain burned on the back of his hand. When he turned it over, there was the star inside a circle mark.

  Fajer flicked the reins, urging the ponies to move faster. Darnel feared he’d made a grave mistake but there was no taking it back now. Either way, he did not wish to be left on the side of the road. Not again. For better or worse, he’d remain with the sorcerer and get what he could out of the deal.

  The cart eventually leveled out once they reached a plateau. The narrow road widened as it made a turn, running deeper into the stony hills. A steep cliff rose up above them and yet Fajer continued driving the horses right for the granite wall. Soon the road ended, but the cart kept going. Master flicked the reins again, urging the horses to pick up the pace.

  Darnel held his breath, knowing the wall was nothing more than an illusion, but cringing all the same. As before, they passed right through, finally coming to a stop in a vast cavern lit by glowing lights hanging from the tall marble walls overhead.

  “Whoa, team!” Fajer tossed the leads to Darnel. “Get the ponies unharnessed. Brush them down and put them in whatever stable is available. The boy should sleep for a few more hours. I’ll return soon to have him taken to the scorched room.”

  Scorched…room?

  Do not let your fear show, Darnel ordered himself. These might be powerful mages, but he had his own powers, as well. Only, he hoped beyond hope that circumstances would not require him to show the depths of his power.

  Chapter Seven

  Kardia had been sent to the autumn woods to gather truffles. Mother had a craving for them. To keep her happy, Kardia complied but brought a few of the more interesting books she’d found with her. One was an ancient text that described the various types of giftings people possessed.

  Mother was a born leader, she was sure. According to the book, people who visited the King of Alburnium would be given a
medallion that would show what they were best suited to do in this life. Father’s might have had some kind of tools on his, as he was a dedicated laborer. Even now, despite his position, he was often helping people to dig ditches, repair fences, or mend leaking roofs, as he’d done before they became wealthy. All his time was still taken up with trying to find ways to keep his family and the town thriving so they’d never have to face starvation again.

  He often said that he missed his work in the mill, which was now being rented out to a young couple who had to pay them a hefty portion of all the grain they milled. In turn, Mother took that grain and had her cooks bake bread to sell to folks who didn’t have ovens of their own.

  Maybe a lot of the sorcerer’s gold was going out, but her mother had an uncanny means of making sure it continued to come back in.

  Kardia sat in a cluster of fern and golden leaves, her back resting against a towering elm. The text lay open on her lap while she ate a carrot she’d picked from the garden that morning. She planned to spend most of the day out in the woods pretending to look for truffles if she could help it.

  “If only one of the books would offer instruction on how to find the King. She would love to go see him in hopes of having her forbidden talent explained. Why did her parents insist that she kept it quiet? Why could she repair some things, but not others? She could repair her mandolin’s broken strings easily. Or the splintered handle of a tool. But she couldn’t repair a shattered vase. She’d never been allowed to try her skills on a human, though she’d repaired scraped knees and her finger one time when she’d accidentally cut it with a knife.

  A sound in the woods startled her. Snapping the book closed, she tucked it behind her back as she searched for the source of the disturbance. She’d purposefully wore her drab brown frock this day to help her remain hidden from anyone wandering through the woods. Listening, she heard a snort, like a pig, would make.

  Wild boar often ran through the wood. Maybe she needed to head back home. Running into a pack of the brutal animals was not something she wished to risk happening.

  When she slowly began to rise, a gasp went out, and she spotted Miltie only a few feet behind her.

  “Oh, bless my heart, lass. You frightened this old woman. Thought for a moment I’d come upon a rouge faerie. Or something worse. Those Fauns can be quite the tricksters.”

  Faeries and creatures? In their woods? “Have you seen a creature or faerie before, Miltie?” Kardia stepped over the thick ferns where she’d been hiding to join the herbalist.

  “Indeed, I have, child. Most dwell in the Wilderland Forest in the south. Sometimes I’ve run into one traveling through the land, but they seldom reveal themselves unless they are sure it is safe. And unfortunately, the old Regent forbade them from residing in his Province. Tis a shame, I always said.”

  Kardia clutched the book she’d been reading to her chest. “I wouldn’t dream of harming such creatures. I hope someday…. Well, they’ll probably never come near our village, would they?”

  Miltie scowled as she glanced in the direction Goia lay. “Doubtful. They will enter a Kingdom town without hesitation.” She pointed at the book in her arms “What are you reading today? I’ve noticed of late you are usually traipsing around with such tomes tucked under your arm. Have you found a particular type of study, or….”

  Miltie was one of the eldest people in Goia. If anyone might know about the Light King, it would be her. “I have questions I’ve been trying to find the answers to. Such as, you mentioned a Kingdom town. What makes them different from any other town?”

  “Their hearts, my dear. And their allegiances.” She patted the pig’s back. It sniffed along the ground most likely also looking for truffles. “Did your dear Mother send you out to forage for some treats?”

  Kardia looked down at her empty basket. “Yes, she wanted truffles. I didn’t think to go see Mr. Sam and borrow one of his pigs.”

  Miltie chuckled and waved her to follow along. “Let us hunt together while we talk. What questions are burning in that young mind of yours, might I ask?”

  Showing the old woman the front of the book, Kardia flipped to a page about learning more about one’s skills at the Academy in Aloblase. “I’ve heard stories about this place. Dadda insists it’s real. Mother says if it is, it’s much too far away for our concern. I’m wondering…do people really make such a long journey to see this king just to learn about their gifts? Isn’t there another way to….”

  “Yes. And no. Everyone has at least one strong quality, if not more. Making the journey to see King Shaydon isn’t simply about finding out your true talent. It’s about agreeing to join your life with his kingdom. To pledge your allegiance to live by his ways. And in turn, you come under his protection.” She stooped beside an oak where the pig snorted a delighted squeal. Pushing him aside, Miltie collected several of the black mushrooms into her basket, making sure to leave a couple for the pig. “King Shaydon will show you what your true purpose in this life is. When people live according to their purpose, the land thrives. And people thrive because they are not scraping by to live. They live for the greater good.”

  Kardia bent to help her. She’d never heard anyone speak like this. Or about such things as this. “But…our town is thriving now, isn’t it? So why wouldn’t we be considered a kingdom town?”

  “Because the allegiance of the folks here is not toward King Shaydon but to themselves. It might seem good what is happening, but I assure you, the townsfolk care about what happens in this tiny speck of the world, not about the Kingdom as a whole. Will you deny this claim I’ve made, dear?”

  Kardia thought about it then slowly shook her head. “How does a town become part of the greater kingdom? Will the new Regent, when he comes, help us become a real kingdom town?”

  Miltie’s round shoulders rose and fell. “Let us hope his heart is bound to King Shaydon. It is the Prince of Alburnium, Issiah is his name, who appoints Regents. They are given the assignment to care for a portion of the kingdom, and the people living there. To keep peace and harmony. To be a…shepherd, in a way, I suppose.”

  Miltie sighed and prodded the pig along the narrow woodland path. “Many leaders start out with good intentions. But life is… life is hard and sometimes throws sharp rocks that destroy and break down the good a person tries to do. However, that’s no excuse for giving up. The good King takes care of his own, I daresay. Seasons change, and hope is always a whisper away.”

  “That’s what Dadda always said.” A smile tugged at Kardia’s mouth. She enjoyed speaking to the wise woman. Sometimes her words were hard to decipher, but her wealth of knowledge had been ignored and untapped for too long. “Have you ever met this King Shaydon?”

  Miltie grinned, then reached beneath the collar of her jacket and withdrew a gold disk hanging from a chain. “Indeed, I have. My husband and I traveled there together. He was a Healer, and his name was Tarlton. Such a fine gentleman.

  “I’ll never forget our time in Aloblase. Back then, we lived in the towns surrounding the White City. Such a beautiful, vibrant land. The King said I had green hands and that plants would always thrive under my care. And they have. After I spent some time learning about growing things, Tarlton and I traveled for many years, helping the sick, teaching people how to grow medicinal plants and use them. We finally arrived here in Goia, back then the town was new and alive. The Prior was dedicated to this town. Such a heart, he and his wife had.”

  The pig moved on in search of more mushrooms. Miltie followed it, her voice dreamy as she recalled her fond memories. Kardia walked beside her silently, not wanting to disrupt the flow of information the Herbalist was finally sharing with her.

  “The White Tree flourished back then, and we were able to contribute to the Province of Rodonal.” Miltie continued, giving the pig’s back a scratch with the stick she carried to drive it. “Such a happy, glorious time. By then, our children had grown and found their own places in the Kingdom. My Tarlton went on to the L
and of Everlasting without me shortly before you were born, dear Kardia. But we do not dictate our times, we go boldly when Shaydon calls us to pass through the glimmering curtains. Until that time, we remain and continue our work here in the Kingdom as best as we can.”

  Kardia drew in a deep breath. There was so much she didn’t know. It was almost as if Miltie were talking a foreign language. Kardia would need to keep searching and reading as much as she was able to take in.

  “My dear,” Miltie tossed a few of the truffles into Kardia’s basket. “You must sense what your talent is by now.” She moved the disk into a beam of light to show the engravings. On one side was a tree with star-shaped leaves. On the other was a seedling surrounded by a circle of ivy. “What do you suppose yours would show?”

  “I…I’m…not sure. Mother doesn’t wish for me to talk about it. She….” Kardia shook her head, not comfortable about speaking anything against her parents. “Miltie, could someone like me make the journey to see this king?”

  “Everyone is capable, not all are willing. How old are you, child? You have not reached your twentieth year, have you?”

  Kardia shook her head. “I have two more years, why?”

  A shadow crossed the woman’s face. “I feared as much. You must have a special gifting. Otherwise, you would not have been sought out by one of those thieving Mages. I recognized that mark and not only because it adorns the coins your parents are spreading throughout the town.” A tear slid down her cheek. “How could they have traded a precious one like you?”

  The breath left Kardia’s lungs. How had the woman figured out their secret? Miltie did know an awful lot about the world. Things Kardia feared she’d never find out on her own.

  “Dadda was tricked,” she blurted. “He traded the land behind the mill, but I was…there. He didn’t know.”

  Miltie gently grasped her arms right above the elbows. “You poor, poor dear. I have no words of hope. You are still under the authority of your parents until you reach your twentieth year. If by some miracle you talk them into taking you to Shaydon…but we know how well that idea will go over.” Her silver head shook with sadness. “They will never give up the position they’ve gained in this town to make the long journey.”