The Immortals of Myrdwyer amob-3

by Brian Kittrell

  “In that case, take care of yourselves. Take word with you to Sorbia to the knights of Westmarch Keep. Tell them there that the Azura Chapter is prepared for whatever may come.”

  Westmarch. Victor and Meklan. I had nearly forgotten. Laedron nodded. “I will. Since we’ll have no use for them, do you have need of our horses?”

  “Horses? Of course. I’ll have one of my men accompany you and bring them back when you’re done with them.”

  “No need. We’ll hire a coach from here.” Laedron shook Piers’s hand again. “Best of luck to you.”

  20

  The Knights of Westmarch

  Favorable winds and a quick ship brought Laedron and his companions from Balfan to Calendport, then a stagecoach carried them through Pendlebridge, across the Great Winding River, and toward Westmarch. Cresting the final hill before the city, Laedron leaned forward and gazed out the window. Funny how those walls seem so welcoming now, whereas they once had been the most frightening thing I’d ever seen. It feels like it’s been more than a month-more like a whole lifetime-since I’ve walked upon friendly soil, breathed Sorbian air, and had no cause to constantly look over my shoulder for enemies at my back.

  He watched Valyrie, sensing her anxiety. Now, she must feel the same as I did. “Everything all right?”

  She nodded, but he knew something was off and tried to comfort her. “You have nothing to worry about.”

  “Nothing to worry about?” she asked. Oh, dear. What have I started? “I have everything to worry about.”

  “Like what? Perhaps I can help.”

  Brice and Marac, opposite them, turned their heads to the nearest window and acted as if they weren’t paying attention, but Laedron noticed the gesture and knew what they were doing. Like only true friends would.

  “I’m nervous about being so far from home… home.” Bowing her head, she hid her tears. “I don’t have a home anymore.”

  “Sure you do. You’ll share a home with us in Reven’s Landing.”

  She sniffled. “What if your mother doesn’t like me? What if your sister hates me at first sight?”

  Of all the things I didn’t want to imagine… but why would they? “They won’t, Val. I think you’re worrying for nothing.”

  “How do you know, Lae? How could you possibly know their minds?”

  “Because I know Ma and Laren well. They couldn’t turn you away.”

  “Of course they can. Why do you think they can’t?”

  He smiled. “How could a mother hate the woman her son loves? How could a sister-without any cause or reason-despise her brother’s soul mate? You have a face and a heart that could light up the entire world should the sun ever fail to shine, Val. I think you’re needlessly troubling yourself.”

  “Do you really believe that? Or are you just saying that to cheer me up?”

  “I believe it.” He took her hand and squeezed it.

  The coach stopped short of the gate, and as he’d witnessed the last time he’d visited Westmarch, the guards inspected their wagon and peered through the windows at them.

  “They run things tighter in Sorbia, eh?” Valyrie asked. “In the theocracy, carts and wagons might receive a passing glance if the driver is steering recklessly. They search everything here before allowing it to enter?”

  “As far as I know.” Laedron rested his head in his hand. “I should say that I’ve never seen it done any other way.”

  When the troops seemed satisfied, the guard captain gestured for the coach to proceed. Laedron heard the crack of the reins, then gazed through the window at Westmarch. He had never met the people walking the roads, but a feeling of kinship swept over him. Every business and house felt like his own, as if he could enter any of those buildings and feel at home. He was home, at long last.

  His eyes widened when he saw the little alley that led toward Ismerelda’s house. He couldn’t take his eyes off of it until it was obscured from view. I’ll have to visit while I’m here.

  The coach ground to a halt, and the driver hopped down from his seat, jogged to the side of the cab, and opened the door. “Westmarch Keep.”

  “Thank you for everything,” Laedron said, tipping the man an extra sovereign. A driver like that deserves a bonus. Quick, knowledgeable of the routes, and efficient.

  “I wonder what he’ll think when he sees us again.” Brice donned his backpack, then dusted off his clothes.

  “Who?” Laedron asked.

  “Meklan Draive, of course. Who else?”

  “I thought you might be referring to Victor.”

  “Why would I? I barely saw the man when we were here.”

  Laedron gestured at the arched entry, the huge double doors left open. “No matter. We’ll find neither of them out here in the streets.”

  They entered the keep, and the same way they had last time, Marac and Brice ran off toward the east wing, obviously eager to see their mentor again. Laedron was left with Valyrie in the great hall, where she stared in wonder at the fine tapestries, decorative swords, sets of armor, and crests hanging on the walls.

  He noticed the lack of students and the quiet in every passage. They must have stopped taking recruits when the war ended. “The mages study in the opposite end, and that’s where we’ll likely find Victor.”

  “What kind of man is he, Lae?”

  “Hard to say. He’s a right and proper sorcerer, but we never had a personable relationship when I trained here. He was kind and willing to answer any questions I had, but to say that we were friends would be stretching it.”

  “Then, why come here? Why not move on to Reven’s Landing?”

  “I’m still a knight of the order, and since they set us on a mission, I must at least report that we’ve succeeded in our task. After that, I’m sure that they’ll release us and allow us to return home, for the war is over.” He followed the corridors as he had weeks ago, finding Victor’s office with little trouble. He knocked on the closed door, and hearing an invitation to enter, he opened it.

  “Yes?” Victor asked, his eyes locked on the parchment upon which he continued to write.

  “We’ve come to-”

  Victor dropped his quill and looked up. “A familiar voice. Has our clever apprentice returned from abroad?”

  “Yes, Master Altruis. It is I, Laedron Telpist, and we have accomplished our mission.”

  Victor stood and walked around his desk. “I heard you did much more than that. Never have I had a pupil achieve so much for our order. And without instructions, no less.” He paused and turned to Valyrie, as if he had just noticed her standing there. He bowed and extended his hand. “Forgive me, Miss, for forgetting my manners.”

  She must not have known what Victor wanted because she stood there staring at him. Laedron gestured for her to offer her hand.

  When she did so, Victor kissed the back of it, then stood upright. “Might I know your name?”

  “Valyrie Pembry, my lord.”

  “And you are a friend of our prodigal pupil?”

  “I am, and a student of his, I might add.”

  “And he’s become a teacher of mages, too?” Victor smiled. “Any friend of his is an ally of ours.”

  Laedron asked, “What exactly have you heard about the things that I’ve done?”

  “The news of Gustav’s death came first, and we knew it had to be you because the witnesses reported seeing a mage throwing spells in the streets. We waited, but no more word came about you after that. When we heard about Tristan’s demise, we suspected you were involved, and our suspicions were confirmed when the Azura chapter-Master Piers, to be specific-sent us correspondence detailing what had passed there.

  “You’ve rid the world of Gustav and Andolis Drakkar, returned the church to more… receptive mentalities, and saved many lives, young man. You’re to be commended.”

  “Did Piers speak of the Zyvdredi assassins? Of the Drakkars’ true natures?”

  “Zyvdredi?” Victor’s eyes widened. “Are you certain?”
/>
  “Beyond the shadow of a doubt.”

  “No, he said nothing of the like. That explains many things, though.”

  “It does? What sort of things?”

  “Inconsistencies in his writings and holes in his explanations. If he didn’t divulge that information, it must have been because he was confident you would succeed.”

  “If you had known, what would you have done differently?”

  “Most likely, we would’ve gathered our best mages, all of them that we could find, Shimmering Dawn or not, and come upon Azura with a fury the likes of which have been unseen since the Great War.”

  “Then, it’s better that he kept his silence, I think.”

  “Truly? We would’ve made short work of the Zyvdredi and probably spared you a great deal of trouble.”

  “At what cost? A battle such as you describe would have wrought destruction of epic proportions upon the city. With what little I know of Piers, I think he wanted to prevent as much suffering as possible.”

  “You’re probably right. If we had come, I doubt that we could have avoided anything other than open confrontation in the streets.”

  Laedron nodded. “I’m just glad that it’s over and we have returned home in one piece. Have you heard of any other happenings?”

  “Beyond the war, no. We’ve had little time to pay attention to anything else.”

  “Good.” Laedron turned toward the door. “Thank you, Master Altruis. If you’ll excuse us, we plan to return to Reven’s Landing.” Well, after a quick visit to Ismerelda’s house, of course.

  “You’re leaving? But why?”

  “We’ve completed our mission-and then some-and now, we want to see our families. I’m sure you understand.”

  “Yes, but you can’t. Not yet, anyway.”

  Laedron narrowed his eyes. “And why is that? Have we not done enough for the order?”

  “You may not have noticed, but you’re famous for your actions, Laedron Telpist. You’re a hero.”

  “And? Can heroes not go home after they have performed their heroic deeds?” He didn’t agree about being a hero, but he wanted to impress a point that Victor could easily understand.

  “Yes, but not yet.” Victor pulled a letter from his desk and handed it to Laedron. “Have a look.”

  As if a piece of paper will change my mind, he thought, sighing. He read the letter:

  Victor Altruis, Master Sorcerer of the Knights of the Shimmering Dawn,

  It has come to our attention that one under your charge, Laedron Telpist, and his party had been dispatched with a mission to the Heraldan Theocracy. We have been made aware that his efforts have stopped a plot to plunge the entire world into conflict, a plot set in motion by Zyvdredi masters. If you should be in contact with Master Telpist or his companions, you are ordered henceforth and without delay to bring them to us in the city of Morcaine.

  Kelrick Ambriset, Chamberlain to His Majesty King Xavier II of Sorbia

  Laedron’s hand dropped to his side, the paper still crinkling between his fingertips. “What do they want with us?”

  “The letter doesn’t say, but I can only imagine that they want to speak to you and reward you for all that you’ve done. ‘Tis a mandate from the king, and as loyal subjects, we must heed his call.”

  “It would seem that I have little choice in the matter. When do we leave?”

  “Little choice? Of all the people I’ve ever met, you seem to care the least about being praised for what you’ve accomplished.”

  Laedron returned the letter. “I did none of it for rewards or praise. When I fought Gustav, I did it for revenge, to bring death to my teacher’s killer. It was by happenstance that our goals aligned, Master Altruis, and when I saw the light leave his eyes, praise and reward were the last things on my mind.

  “Our work done, we convinced Vicar Jurgen to take us to Azura, to aid us in defeating Andolis and bringing about peace. We did that to save lives and to right wrongs, not with hopes of receiving piles of gold, lands, or titles. So when you say that we should be rewarded, I can’t help but think that we deserve nothing.”

  “I know how you must feel, Laedron.”

  “Do you? Can you?”

  Victor smiled. “I haven’t always been locked away behind a desk.”

  “I’m sorry if you’ve felt any disrespect from my words, but I yearn to see my family, as do my friends, and it’s disheartening to know that, yet again, something stands in the way of that.”

  “A few days. Morcaine isn’t far, and I’ll do everything in my power to hasten the trip for you. Would that help?”

  “Like I said, it would seem I have little choice. We cannot disobey the king.”

  Victor patted Laedron on the shoulder. “Stay with us tonight, and we’ll leave early tomorrow morning.”

  “No.” Laedron waved his hand. “We have already arranged lodgings in the city.”

  Receiving an awkward stare from Valyrie, Laedron shook his head at her just enough to get the message across.

  Victor said, “Very well, but the invitation remains open should you change your mind. Return here at dawn, and we’ll depart.”

  Laedron nodded, opened the door, and exited with Valyrie. “We’ll need to find Marac and Brice. This way.”

  “Lodgings, Lae? We’ve made no such arrangements.”

  “I know a place. Marac and Brice can stay here, but I want to visit my teacher’s former home and show it you, if you’d like.”

  “Certainly, Lae. I’d like that very much, actually.”

  Laedron nodded, then led her back to the grand entry hall and off to the west wing. “I’ve rarely visited this side of the keep.”

  “Didn’t like it over here?”

  “I wasn’t allowed very often. They preferred to keep the sorcerers separate from the knights during training.”

  “Strange. You would think they’d train you together.”

  “They trained the knights as a group, but sorcerers would benefit little from instruction in martial combat. Magic is our sword and shield.”

  He turned at the last corridor, then noticed Marac and Brice in a side hall, talking to Meklan Draive. Laedron waited until they noticed him, gestured, and they came over to him. “You two stay here for the night, and we’ll join you in the morning.”

  Marac, sounding eager, asked, “Did Victor tell you about-”

  “He did.” Laedron sighed, lowering his chin and staring at his shoes. “We’ve been instructed to see the king.”

  “Well, don’t get too excited about it, Lae,” Brice said, furrowing his brow. “When I heard the news, I thought you would be happy to finally be recognized for a job well-done.”

  “I don’t need to be extolled for anything, and I’d rather just go home. If memory serves, we did what we had to do. We survived and helped who we could, nothing more.”

  “Yes, yes, but to visit the king? The palace? To be requested, no less? A once-in-a-lifetime opportunity.”

  “Opportunity?” Marac raised his eyebrows. “Don’t read too much into it, Thimble.”

  “We’ll meet you on the morrow at dawn.” Laedron turned toward the exit.

  “What will you do? Where will you go?”

  “Ismerelda’s. I want to see her home one last time.”

  * * *

  He walked through the streets with Valyrie as if his feet knew the way. Reaching the alley that fronted Ismerelda’s home, he stopped and took a deep breath, recalling the time he’d gone to the market and nearly been robbed. What would I do with a thief now? With the flick of my wrist, I could end his life or immobilize him and give him over to the guard. Have I lost my sense of fear or merely gained confidence in my own abilities?

  “Are you all right, Lae?”

  He peered at the placard-the golden moon and stars-and the wrought iron gate, then looked past them at the squalid yard. Tavingras was right, he thought, taking himself back to the first time he’d seen Ismerelda’s house. Those holes where trees once st
ood, that grass that seemed like it refused to grow. She had used up the essence of it, an Uxidin sorceress trying to survive.

  “Lae?”

  He took a deep breath. “My memories came rushing back to me. Here, let’s go inside.” Unlatching the gate, he stepped past it, then approached the front door. He tried the handle, but it was locked.

  “Do you have a key?”

  He shook his head, then took a look around the porch. That’s odd. He walked over to a pot filled with soil, but he could find no trace of a plant or seeds. Moving it aside, he spotted a brass key that must have been there for quite some time because, from bit to bow, it was solid black from tarnish. Though difficult to turn, the key unlocked the front door.

  It didn’t take long for the spiders to find their way in. Cobwebs coated the paintings and furniture, and the webs and dim light made it difficult to make out the mural painted on the parlor ceiling.

  “What is that?” Valyrie asked, pointing upward.

  “A depiction of the Great War. Azura at Azuroth, the final battle between the Uxidin and the Necromancer, Vrolosh.” He blew on the shelves to clear away the cobwebs and a layer of dust. “Everything’s exactly the way she left it.”

  “It’s small, but I can see how it could be a comfortable home.” She followed him to the common room, then through the hall to the kitchen. “It was just the two of you?”

  “She only took on one apprentice at a time, which is the usual way when privately tutoring a student.” He gazed at the stove and noticed the pan in which Ismerelda had prepared the quiche. “Would you like to see the room where we trained?”

  She nodded, and he led her downstairs to the basement. The ashes of the training dummy he’d shot still littered the floor, along with the one Ismerelda had split in two. He could almost see his teacher seated at the larger of the two desks. He smiled. “I would like to share something with you.”

  “Yes?”

  “I will show you what has passed here, and though I could make an illusion, I want you to truly experience it. Do not be afraid.”

  He pulled out his scepter and focused on his last memory training in that cellar. Then, he conjured his captivation spell. Valyrie spun around when the spell came into being, the manifestation of his memory clearly taking hold of her mind.