After several tries, Jayson started an ember in the straw kindling. “There.” He blew gently on it, encouraging a small flame to appear.
Satisfied, he sat back and watched the fire climb onto small twigs, from which it would burn hot enough to start the logs.
“I think the men below might be the ones we hoped to find. But—” He reached over and smoothed down the loose hairs of her red braid with his hand. “I think you’d best stay here, unless you wish to fill the pockets of someone eager to please Tyrkam.”
“No thanks.” Though she wanted to speak with the king’s men herself, she realized the danger involved. She stood out. Also, though dresses were common for women, she wore riding clothes. The long cloak had hidden the fact. Without it, the truth would be clear. None could mistake her identity. She could unpack the gift from Llaeryn, but what use would it be when the flaming red of her hair was rare in Ayrule? She had made a name for herself before escaping to the mountains, and a few of the raiders sent in advance by Tyrkam into Cavatar had recognized her by descriptions that circulated.
“I’ll not be gone long.” With a smile Jayson stood and walked away.
Calli stared into the fire, barely noticing the clap of the door shutting behind him. The warmth of the crackling fire permeated the constant cold of their travels. She focused on banishing that chill.
When her stomach growled, she put her hand to her middle. Jayson better return soon, and bring food.
Some time passed and Calli added more to the fire while her patience wore thin to the point that she paced before the fire roaring as hot as her temper. Where was Jayson? Had something happened?
She stopped an easy pace from the door and studied it as if she could will him to appear. Too much time passed since he left her, and her stomach objected to being empty. What if his merry-making had taken a wrong turn?
Unlikely. She heard nothing from below but the occasional burst of laughter. Damn him!
She paced again to the window and looked out on the street through the frost around each pane. Too many losses towered over her, threatening to topple her in emotions she wished to avoid but could not escape alone in the room.
“How much time must pass for you to consider long?”
The creek of the door caught her attention. Ellead peeked in, their supplies in hand. At least someone had the sense to check in on her. Maybe she should forget Jayson’s warning and go down and remind him why she was wanted by Tyrkam. That held a certain satisfying appeal.
“Pardon me.”
Calli let out a deep breath and smiled. “Have you seen Jayson?”
“He leads the men in song and cheer.” He set the armload down on the floor near the bed. “I know o’ no other o’ such high spirits.”
High spirits, indeed! Calli suppressed a growl while sorting through the blankets and bags for food to make use of the grinding of her teeth in frustration. That he had been able to join the camaraderie was good, if not that he seemed to have forgotten his words to her. She shoved things aside with more force than necessary.
When she found the dry cakes and curds, Calli put one of the cakes to her lips. Though she could have used a drink to wash it down, she forced herself to swallow to calm the growling of her stomach.
“I…suppose y’d be hungry.”
At the hesitation in Ellead’s voice, Calli paused in taking another mouthful. She smiled in better humor. So involved in her own hunger had she been that she forgot him.
“Have you eaten yet?”
He pursed his lips and dodged her gaze. “They gave me a plate below.”
“What?” No one had bothered to think of her? “He made me sit here waiting for him.”
“He tried to get away, but they insisted he stay.”
“Jayson!” She cursed the name. How dare he keep her waiting for him!
“Yes?”
She whirled at the voice. He stood in the door with a nonchalant air.
Ellead squeezed past him to the hall behind. “I’ll be…going now. G’night, milady. Jayson.” He gave a nod to each and rushed out.
“Sleep well,” Jayson said. He switched hands on the steaming cups he held, moving one from his left hand to his right so he carried both in one hand. With his free hand, he latched the door behind him, sealing them in without interruption.
She tore into the cake with her teeth in her frustration before crossing the room to the window. Now that he returned, she needed her space to cool her mood.
Calli gazed out into the street, where a dark, cloaked figure walked. She watched, if just to take her mind off wanting to beat some sense into Jayson. The indignity of it all! He had no right to keep her waiting and leave her hungry.
The person crossed through the light cast from a window. No! Her heart jumped into her throat at the face that looked up from beneath the hood, a menacing smile upon black lips all she could clearly see.
Lusiradrol! It could not be! She swallowed the lump of fright and took a deep breath to calm herself. The figure moved off as if nothing happened. Had it been real?
“Forgive me, but I could not leave without dishonoring our hosts.” Boards groaned from Jayson’s steps behind her.
“Hot cider?”
“What?” Calli blinked away her thoughts at the distraction of the steaming cup he reached around for her to take. Her mouth watered at the scent of cinnamon. After switching hands holding the food, she took the hot cup and sipped. Heat poured down her throat. It warmed her insides as the fire could not and soothed away the faint trembling.
Jayson backed off, by the creaking objection of the floor boards, and settled down before the fire. Her anger melted away with the warmth of the drink and the distraction of her mind.
“I cannot abide the feeling of being locked up against my will.” Her tone scolded him.
“I know.”
She turned to him, to the sparkling of his eyes and the warmth of his face. It stole away the rest of her anger. Damn him for that too.
Calli sat down next to him before the fire. “For that I left my home.”
“What can I say, but that I’d have it no other way.”
She studied the lines of his face, the softness and humor always there but for the rare moment. Yet, a shadow of sorrow hung over his mood since returning to her, despite his attempts to hide it.
She wanted to hate him yet for forgetting her.
“I intended to return sooner.”
His words and his tone of asking for forgiveness made her feel bad for being angry with him. How did he do that? She couldn’t stay mad at him the rare time he deserved her anger.
They sat in silence while Calli finished the cake and ate a little more—tough stuff that traveled well, especially in winter. With her stomach settled, she placed them aside to finish the cider. He could have brought her a plate in consideration, but the cider was bliss.
“I believe Lauckney will be coming by tonight to talk about Ellead.”
He must have meant one of the soldiers downstairs. Good. At least then they could be sure Eldred’s boy had some protection on the road back to Arronfel. And General Marjan would receive the news.
Eldred’s boy, she thought with amusement. Though only a couple years older than Ellead, she felt a generation older. Time had slipped by since she left home.
What was home?
Calli dropped her hand to the pendant beneath her clothes. The lump pressed into her chest with the weight of her hand. She pictured the palace as she last looked upon it in the morning sun. With it came the regrets, the sorrow of loss.
She pushed away the memories of home, and Duke. So much had changed; she had changed. She sighed and looked up at Jayson, who tipped his head back for the last drops of cider in his cup.
He set the empty cup aside and gazed quietly into the flames snapping at the air.
After a long moment of silence, she spoke in her father’s language. [“Your thoughts are deep.”]
He blinked and turned to her with a
hint of a smile.
“Can you tell me?” She drank a mouthful of cider.
“I was thinking of what you said once…twice…a couple ideas, really.”
Calli frowned, wondering exactly what she said.
Jayson stretched his arm and pulled out her sword from where she had left it next to the pile of supplies Ellead had dropped there. He sat back against the bed and unsheathed the blade, holding it upright in the firelight. Shorter than a longsword, the actual blade was also more delicate in appearance and shimmered faintly of green.
“A fine piece of craftsmanship this.”
“You said it had dragon scale in the metal?” Calli noticed the glint of green now, which she had not seen before. The metal was dark, too dark to see the green unless one knew to look for it.
He turned the blade horizontal, his thumb running over the etched writing of the crossbar.
“You can read that.” He’d told her, but she had to hear it again.
“It’s a dialect of Gairdran changed very little in the thousands of years since the Ancient language was last used on Ayrule.”
Holding the sheath in his other hand, he slipped the sword into it. When he offered it to her, Calli took the sword.
“No ordinary smith crafted this weapon.”
She looked up to the shadows on his face and shook her head at the question in his eyes. “I know not. Phelan is gone with that secret. Only he knows.”
Pursing his lips, Jayson gazed into the fire. For what seemed an eternity, he said nothing but stroked the line of beard along his jaw with his finger. When he spoke, his eyes flickered with the reflection of the fire.
“I dare say someone knew your heritage.”
“What heritage?” Calli set the sword aside.
“That you’re descended from the First Race created by the Majera to combat the Darklord. That you possess their ability to control magic.”
Calli shook her head in disbelief. Her, able to control magic? Still, she was curious. “You mentioned that once before. What are the Ancients?”
“The Ancients, as they’re now called, defeated the Darklord with the help of the dragons, but they failed to kill him. He came back and sent hordes of creatures—C’Lupuc, nekrethe, and others—against them. They could not survive. Those who did fled and took refuge on several remote islands. One of those was named Loringale.”
Jayson and his teasing…but, no, the smile was gone. “You’re serious.”
“Rightly so. The magic in this blade would not work for an ordinary person. Only the weapons of the Ancients contained such power, because they are the only ones who can command it, or so it was thought.”
His grin answered one question as she put the pieces together. He also used the power in the sword.
But her? Impossible. “There are no such people. My father used no magic, not as you do. If this is true, are you not one of these ‘Ancients’?”
Jayson shook his head. “I am of the Second Race, as anyone we’ve encountered.”
“But you use magic. You said the Ancients commanded such power.”
Jayson smiled in amusement. “You misunderstand, Calli. I’m a descendant, a child, of the Light, athêrred rî Lûmea. While I’m not an Ancient, I possess a small part of the Light from which to draw upon. It is this direct connection that allows me to use magic, but I cannot sustain it for long periods.” He reached across her and pulled the sword from the scabbard and held it up to her.
Calli took the weapon in both hands, studying it as he spoke.
“Your ancestors were made to control all magic, as a weapon against the Darklord. Your father knew this; I’ve no doubt.”
“Why did he not tell me?” she murmured. When a reassuring hand warmed her shoulder, she looked up to the gentle expression on his face.
“Men like Tyrkam would stop at nothing for such power. That’s why he took your friend. Your father would have realized this, though why he left the security of Loringale is beyond my understanding. None of the Ancients have been seen for thousands of years.” In a lower voice, he added, “Men of the Second Race drove them out of the few strongholds that remained to them.”
“How has this come to you?”
“The Council of Seven was granted open access to our master’s knowledge, or more of it than the others.” He dropped his hand and leaned back with a pensive frown.
She watched for a sign of further explanation but he gave none. “Your Sh’lahmar?”
Jayson nodded, a hint of sadness sagging his features. He had told her the details of the release of the Red Clan when Ellead could not overhear. She pitied him for the guilt he carried from the attack. He had lost his home as she had lost hers. In an odd way, she found comfort in sharing a sense of loss.
A knock on the door startled her. Calli caught her breath, while Jayson walked to the door and opened it without a word.
In the dim light of the hall stood one of the men from downstairs, one of the two who had acknowledged his greeting.
Calli rose to her feet and briefly met Jayson’s eyes for confirmation before fixing her attention on the man. “You must be Lauckney.”
“Aye, m’lady. So, he told you, has he?” He smiled and let himself into the room. She noted the lines of harsh years upon his brow and the shag of brown hair on his head. He stood with the confidence of a man who had won many battles. “Then you know I’ve a curiosity o’ your friend here.”
He turned to Jayson, who closed the door. “You gave all signs o’ wantin to talk.”
Jayson nodded and explained the situation with Ellead. He told the man of the protected base in the mountains where Marjan hid from Tyrkam’s men. Lauckney nodded and grunted in response.
When Jayson finished, the soldier took a deep breath and said, “A fine tale yeh wag. But I’d not believe it without seein’.”
Jayson looked to Calli and held out his hand. Though it took a second for her to figure what he wanted, she handed him the chain bearing pendant of the royal seal of Cavatar.
Jayson held his palm open with the pendant exposed to the man.
“Here is proof of my word.”
Lauckney reached for the chain.
About to protest, Calli restrained it when she understood. As Marjan had not believed her until he saw it, so was it with this man.
“How can this be?” Lauckney held it up in the firelight.
“From a servant of the royal family as it was bestowed upon her.”
Lauckney turned to Calli as if seeing her for the first time. “Unless yeh be a thief escaped from the palace, y’d be as yeh say.” He offered his other hand to Jayson, who accepted it. “You have an escort for the lad.”
Jayson smiled as they parted hands. “I’ll tell him first thing come morning.”
“Aye. I’ll like to see this mountain area. It must be somethin.” Lauckney held the pendant out for Calli. “Never lose this, lass.”
Calli took it back and slipped the chain back over her head, feeling its weight heavier than before.
When Jayson opened the door, the soldier stepped out. “I promise you’ll not be disappointed. Sleep well.”
“Good night.” He tipped his head to Calli. “M’lady.”
Jayson closed the door behind him and latched it shut. “That’s done.”
“Can we trust him to his word?”
“I believe so. I sensed no duplicity.”
“Then you’ll take me to the princess.” After all her time, she would finally rejoin her friend, the reason she left the palace. Then what?
“You’ll join your friend.” Jayson’s response stole her from her thoughts. He took her hand and lifted it to kiss the back.
Warmth flooded up through her at his soft touch and the coy sparkle in his eyes.
He winked and released her hand. “For tonight, sleep well, my lady.”
He removed the blanket from their pack and curled up on the floor in front of the fire.
Jayson. What perverse pleasure did he tak
e in confusing her?
__________
Damaera
Damaera swallowed her heart, which she swore jumped out of her chest. She tried to stay calm facing the threat that left a void in the magic. She would not falter in the face of the shadowy creature.
Not long ago they began seeing it—a shadow. Upon its passing, it left a chill on the soul as of death. No solid features existed within the blackness, but the shape of wings held it aloft, never to touch the ground with its legless form.
Damaera faced the creature now in her bedchamber shared with her sister. Glad she was not alone, she glanced aside at Gayleana. The shadowy demon hovered before them in more solid form than any previous sighting.
Magic and something more drained from her as if the creature fed upon her soul. Damaera shivered in the chill after the extinguishing of the fire in the hearth. Her breath turned to frost in the air.
A warm hand grabbed hers, forming an instant connection of shared power. Together, she and Gayleana created a shield.
The magic failed. They looked at each other and focused deeper. They formed another shield, but the power escaped them.
The creature sucked away their power at each turn, weakening them while it solidified.
Damaera blinked to keep her eyes open. Caught in the midst of sleep, she grew more tired now with each turn. By the drooping eyelids and yawning, Gayleana fared no better.
Before sleep grew too heavy, the door slammed open. The intensity of the light filling the room made Damaera shade her eyes. Although she could not see the high priestess’s face, something in her identified the being as their teacher.
“Lethan in trî! Ennêdra lien nâ, nekreth!” Tahronen’s voice rang out in clear, commanding tones.
A screeching hiss responded with a maliciousness that shuddered through Damaera. She covered her ears but could not muffle the hideous noise.
Legends Page 16