Legends

by Melanie Nilles

  Quentin stood with his long fingers clasping a scroll of parchment.

  “Anything?”

  Quentin shook his head of neatly trimmed brown hair. “No word, General. But, that means nothing. You said yourself that she takes caution.”

  Marjan nodded. Indeed, the lass knew to be careful. From the stories her friends told, she knew the risks.

  No doubt Donaghy and Morain taught her something about that.

  Arrogant bastards. What happened to the two? Long ago he recommended the top warriors to train the king’s soldiers after Kaillen was killed. That landed them the unlikely position of training the lass, though if she was Kaillen’s daughter, he could see why. He had seen first-hand the result of their efforts in her style. Clever as Donaghy but calculating as Morain, she proved herself many times against challengers.

  “Our riders return with no word of the red beasts either.” Quentin took a breath and added, “Nor does Tyrkam proceed into the mountains. The season of fighting has passed until sowing.”

  The last part was obvious but Quentin tried to pick up his mood with something positive. It worked.

  “Any word from Gheorwen or Hammel?” They sent out scouts to contact the leaders of two of the king’s legions. Those who returned brought only pieces of information and not enough to frame any sort of picture.

  From what Marjan could piece together, Hammel’s forces guarding the palace were decimated. Those captured by Tyrkam’s army were executed, while the general and some of his cavalry escaped as the battle wound down. Reports came back of Tyrkam’s forces outnumbering Hammel’s two-to-one, since part of his legion was elsewhere. Though that would not have mattered under most circumstances, Lord Cathmor turned traitor against his king and his forces inside the palace let Tyrkam’s in.

  Gheorwen and half his legion stayed in the harbor city of Candro, unable to provide support in time. The only news to come out were reports of the port city under siege but holding its own with help from the traders who berthed their ships there. Where the rest of Gheorwen’s legion was, Marjan could only guess, but he knew enough to suspect the general split them under the leadership of the captains with regiments not in Candro. Far from the majority of the fighting inland, Gheorwen had no reason to pull his full forces together in the southeastern, coastal province.

  The only other units Marjan knew of were under the command of Lord Almont, who ruled the semi-independent province in the eastern area from the Northern Mountains south along the shore. There lied the richest farmland in all of Cavatar. The noble had his hands full planning to defend against Tyrkam, if he had not already fallen.

  These thoughts distracted Marjan from hearing the answer to his question.

  Quentin cleared his throat.

  General Marjan blinked.

  “Pardon me for saying, sir, but I am not the only one to notice your…worry of late.”

  “It shows?”

  One side of the attendant’s lips curved up. “I doubt we’ll lose this war in the end. Whether it takes a year or a hundred, Cavatar will be restored to its glory.”

  Marjan allowed a slight smile, seeing again the strength and loyalty in Quentin that led him to trust the scholar. He long ago lost track of the number of times the little man proved himself as strong in mind as any warrior was in body.

  “What of Gheorwen and Hammel?”

  “Nothing yet.”

  The news disturbed Marjan. He hoped to unite with the others to build up at least one legion to full strength. It would take his mind off the lack of news from Calli’s group.

  “Until such news comes, our captains wish to know your plans for the new season.”

  His plans. Since settling in the valley, he had changed his plans. Conditions here improved their prospects, with fresh crops, fattened herds, and new horses. Their resources would grow to support more soldiers.

  The men also changed. Their spirits lifted with the easier lifestyle the valley provided. The change had come as a gentle wave over a couple moon cycles. The steady warmth and abundant resources shed light on the prospects of a better day.

  But they’ve a duty to the people. They had to stay in fighting form if they planned to continue the war when spring came to the lowlands. That required new strategies and information.

  The information came at a steady rate as scouts came and went. He hoped the dragons had not found the others yet to return, but he accepted the dismal possibility.

  “Tell them—” Marjan paused. The captains would want some idea to inspire the men.

  “Tell them to continue gathering information and building our supplies. Until we can support a marching army and know our enemy, we’ve no business planning battles.”

  Quentin scribbled his notes and nodded. Not only was the man precise and organized at record keeping, but he possessed a good mind for logistics. He spoke his mind if he felt any decision detrimental, though that was rare.

  Every part of the royal army should be as lucky.

  The robed figure rushed off and vanished around a corner.

  Alone once more to his thoughts, Marjan stared out the window. What happened to the Lady Calli and her two friends? In particular, the old farmer and the remaining son deserved to know of the boy who accompanied her. In his own interests, he wished them all to return safe.

  __________

  Calli

  Calli woke with a start.

  “Sssh!” Jayson hunched over her.

  She rubbed her eyes. What did he want?

  He sat next to her with his back to the wall. Time for her watch already? She wanted more sleep.

  She glanced at Ellead next to the hearth, where the logs in the hearth crackled amid the low flames, but the boy made no sound nor movement..

  The last sixteen days since leaving the home where she had recovered stole much of their energy from battling the weather. More often than not, as the days grew colder rather than warmer as she had hoped, they spent their time around an open fire or imposing on some family. The work of trudging through snow drifts or keeping warm exhausted them, and wore on the horses they traded regularly. Now she understood why wars paused for the winter.

  This time, they had found an abandoned one-room cabin. Barely big enough for one person, it fit the three of them in close confinement. Soon after lighting the fire, Calli understood the benefit of such a small home—fast heating.

  A yawn escaped her. Jayson still sat up rather than laying down to sleep, his eyes on her as if he wanted to say something.

  Keeping her voice to a soft whisper, she asked, “What is it?”

  He pursed his lips. Can you hear me?

  Calli frowned. “Yes, why…” He had spoken without moving his lips.

  A smile curved up his face. I’d like to ask you something… without Ellead listening. Fenaliel in nâ marnethias?

  The translation formed from the dust of memories disturbed by Jayson’s question. Though his words varied slightly in accent, she knew what he asked.

  “Yes,” she replied in a whisper. She understood him, but how did he know Lôringai?

  Before she could ask, his voice projected in her head again. As I thought you might. You told me once your father was from Loringale.

  Calli nodded, pulling her blankets over her knees and shoulders. A cool breeze leaked through a crack in the boards somewhere while the slightest wind set the cabin creaking.

  “How do you—”

  At the finger to his lips, she ceased.

  I wish not to share this with anyone but you. I know the Ancient tongue of Gairdran. Lôringai is a dialect, although I knew not whether your father taught you.

  A crooked smile curved up one side of his mouth. Calli recognized that look; it sent caution rushing through her veins. His mind worked on something.

  I can see your thoughts. Words are not always necessary.

  Her jaw dropped. “What!”

  His eyes jerked to Ellead, but the boy made no move. Jayson turned back to her with a sigh.
You wish to wake him?

  Calli shook her head. No. He’d wonder what madness has taken me.

  And me, Jayson said.

  She fixed him with a glare. Her thoughts were supposed to be private.

  Sorry. That’s the problem with one-way mindspeech. I cannot filter your thoughts to know your reply or not. Sometimes it’s necessary to enter your mind.

  How many times have you been in my mind? Had he touched her feelings?

  A couple, maybe, but I prefer not. More effort is required and it’s dangerous. One can lose themselves in another’s thoughts and never find their way out, much as a ship tossing on stormy seas inside a labyrinth. Projecting thoughts is more precise and easier.

  Can you teach me? So she could send her thoughts instead of him invading her mind.

  For a moment, he pursed his lips, his eyes on the fire. Perhaps. It may be possible. You were able to draw upon the magic of the sword.

  He nodded with greater certainty. You may have enough of the Ancient blood to use simple magic.

  What? Ancient blood? Now he lost her.

  Jayson’s smile waylaid her confusion. Your ancestors who settled on Loringale were the men and women who escaped the great massacres at the hands of Lusiradrol’s allies and the Second Race. It’s a pure line of descendants of the First Race of men to inhabit the world. Those early ancestors of yours are known now as the Ancients. They had the ability to use magic unbound.

  Calli shivered at Lusiradrol’s mention. She hoped she never saw the woman again. After what Jayson told her back at the farmhouse of the woman’s past as a black dragon, she realized how fortunate she was to be left unscathed. She had sensed something unusual about the woman the first time she appeared.

  A warm arm settled across her shoulders, distracting her from her worries. Calli smiled and laid her head against Jayson. An instant later, she remembered he scanned her thoughts to keep up the connection for his mindspeech ability. Her cheeks warmed and she pushed away. That’s enough for now.

  He shrugged but the creases in his forehead said otherwise. She hoped he missed her anxiety about being close or at least broke the connection before seeing her affections for him. Some things she wished to keep private until she was ready.

  In a turn of mood, he took her hand to his lips and kissed the back.

  “As you wish,” he whispered and set her hand down. His blue eyes sparkled for a moment when he met her gaze. It vanished when he laid down and covered himself.

  He gave away no clear trace of his feelings.

  Damn you, Jayson! Say it. Tell me what you feel. He should have been in her head then.

  Her heart twisted into knots wondering what course to take. The desire to know twisted further, so that she spent her entire watch trying to untangle the knot with no success.

  __________

  Shadow and Jayson

  A giant shadow passed over him, hushing the winter songbirds. Shadow glanced up with wolf eyes at a pair of wyverns heading north high above. What was their destination, the gateway? They could not pass through Eyr Droc any more than their leader. The magic was set against all creatures of the Darklord’s making.

  Where else? Only one enemy of the Red Clan might gain their attention—the Lumathir. They were supposed to live somewhere around the Northern Mountains, the direction the wyverns flew. Only Haiberuk knew the exact location, outside of the Lumathir, but he only shared information like that with his Council.

  At the thought of the immortal, the sore spot reopened. Now known only as Shadow, he had dropped his old identity long ago so that only the fetid remains of revenge lingered where it had dwelled.

  Tyrkam had asked the one thing he never expected. Though he would never serve Lusiradrol, he would make others suffer as he had. The light of hope the Sh’lahmar master inspired would be extinguished.

  A whisper of power touched his core. As quickly as it appeared, it vanished, as if someone faltered in hiding their magic.

  Shadow paused in his step, opening himself for the faint emanation.

  Unlike other shapeshifters, he was born with mage abilities and trained to use them.

  However, the presence he detected, though stirring a sense of familiarity, hid his or her identity as no one he knew, except for one small group.

  The fire of hatred flared anew in recognition of the level the other Sh’lahmar. Sonthenîel talri, one of the Council. He cursed the title. Second to Haiberuk on Shadow’s list of vendettas.

  Why was this one out in such a remote area?

  Shadow sniffed the air with a wolf’s keen senses for a trace of human scent. The wind swirled amid the trees, mixing the scents of more than one human. He followed upwind to find the source.

  Over a rise in the land, he saw them—two men, a woman, and a horse burdened with supplies. Though they covered their heads with hoods to keep out the cold, they could not hide that which was not seen with eyes.

  When he tried to probe the trio for magic, the man who walked beside the woman looked around.

  In his human form, Shadow would have smiled. That man was the one. Now he knew and slinked back under a snow-covered brush. He could not see clearly enough to know who the man was, but with a closer look he would recognize the face. That he was sure.

  Shadow caught a light scan sent out by the mage and let it pass. What the wandering Sh’lahmar thought of his presence, he would allow, what little good it might do them.

  Shadow noted the direction they traveled—the same as he. Coincidence? Perhaps not. A Sh’lahmar in the group made anything possible.

  In either case, he would not follow. His purpose was to reach Eyr Droc and retrieve the princess Istaria to satisfy Tyrkam. He could beat such a group by days.

  Shadow ducked behind the hill and circled wide around the trio. If they traveled the same path, he would be to the Second Realm and gone before they entered the mountains.

  * * *

  “What is it?”

  Jayson shook his head. “I thought… I saw something. A shadow only.”

  Calli shivered from the thought and the grim look on his face. Even in the midst of battle, he retained his good humor. If he took such a stance from a shadow, she worried. Something bothered him.

  [“What is it?”] The words came easier now that she used the language of her father again. She refrained from speaking the language since his murder four years ago, but she never forgot it. Having someone with whom she could speak the language again helped her recall it.

  Jayson shook his head. [“I know not.”] I felt another… following us, watching. But I saw nothing.

  Calli glanced back at Ellead, but he walked a few steps behind with his eyes on the snow. No need to worry him. She hoped he took no offense of them speaking in a different language. It gave her practice while allowing them to speak privately, without Jayson prying into her mind.

  [“Another?”]

  Jayson turned to her, a serious look on his face that answered her question as easily as any words. He nodded confirmation.

  Calli tensed, her hand beneath her cloak going to her sword and her eyes surveying their surroundings.

  Jayson peered back over his shoulder. “Eyes open, Ellead.”

  Calli glanced back. The young man perked up, his posture straightening.

  “Trouble?”

  “Maybe.”

  Calli followed Jayson’s eyes to the right. A shape briefly appeared on the low rise in the distance. To the best of her sight, she made out a gray wolf running through the snow. Just as it appeared, it vanished again. Any other time she would have seen it as a noble creature.

  Not now. After Jayson’s warning and all that had happened, nothing was innocent.

  “I’ve a bad feeling,” Jayson muttered. I feel a twisting of magic. That is no ordinary wolf.

  “As I thought.”

  They walked with greater caution, her hand clutching her sword pommel, ready to draw it if the wolf attacked. The next time they saw it, the dark shape was far
ahead and disappearing into the landscape.

  “Wolves rarely travel alone.” Ellead hurried to catch up to them, pulling the horse to a trot behind him. “Where’s the rest o’ the pack?”

  “We’re not the target of this one.” Jayson stared ahead, a distracted look in his eyes. “It has another purpose.” He stopped and blinked away whatever held his thoughts.

  When his eyes fixed on Ellead, a new idea brightened them. “I think it best that you return to Marjan.”

  Ellead frowned, looking from him to Calli. “Are we not going that way?”

  Jayson smiled his reassurance and patted the boy’s shoulder. “You are. Calli and I are needed elsewhere.”

  “What of the wolf?”

  “He’ll not bother you.”

  Jayson was right. They were overdue to report back with news of the red wyverns. But, if she understood his true intentions, he wished to explain to her about the wolf, and probably more that Ellead need not hear. She hoped for more.

  “You’ll be fine. At the next village, we’ll find someone to escort you to Arronfel.”

  The stiffness in the boy’s shoulders softened away with Jayson’s reassurance. She would not wish to travel alone either, particularly after their experiences with the Red Clan.

  Ellead gave her a forced smile and looked to Jayson. “I’ll do as you say, though it’s not as I wish.”

  __________

  Shadow and Gaispar

  Shadow left them far behind, but a touch of power lingered. It came from another magic user, someone whose presence caused only a small disturbance. Only after his awareness of the Sh’lahmar alerted him did he notice the weaker change. The faint touch had been with him for a couple days now that he thought about it.

  Someone followed him.

  He growled and stopped on a bank of snow overlooking the white hills that had been summer fields. Curse you, old man! He should have known the mage employed by Tyrkam had ways of tracking him. Who was it?

  Their magic was weak. Who could track him with such feeble powers and go undetected for so long?