by D. L. Kramer
"They're part of the king's group," the boy explained. "I saw them setting up their camp when I went after the nails in the storehouse. They were knocking on the shop door."
"You know not to bring soldiers here," the man said, his voice cold.
"They aren't from the--" Garren paused, then stopped, obviously deciding to try a different tactic. "They're different. They have the red cloaks like the minstrel said."
"You also know better than to listen to minstrels."
"We just needed to know if we could get some help to reshoe some horses," Nahtan said. "We'll be leaving as soon as we can get that business taken care of."
"And what's your business elsewhere?" the smith demanded. "Taking more like her to sell?" He motioned to Valry. "I don't work for soldiers, I don't care what color their cloaks are. If you're with the king's group, then go back and tell him--whatever his name is--that he'd better do more here than prance around on his horse and have everyone gawk at him."
"I don't think he likes you," Bear said evenly to Nahtan.
Nahtan gave his friend a sideways look, then sighed. He had hoped they wouldn't run into such a difficult person, but this smith seemed almost too bitter to be reasoned with. Valry let go of her father's hand and walked to stand in front of the smith before Nahtan could take her hand again and pull her back.
"Papa's here to take Tion and the girls back to their parents," she explained simply. "And he and Bear wouldn't let anyone take me from them." She tilted her head, looking at the smith with unblinking eyes. When she spoke again, it was that tone that once again made Nahtan think she was much older than her five summers. "Papa's brought the best people he could so that he can make them stop taking children. Just because your children were taken by soldiers doesn't mean every soldier is bad. My father's a Mo'ani Warrior and so are his friends. They defeated the Archbishop in Herridon and they'll defeat the soldiers here, too." After looking at the smith a moment more, her shoulders seemed to slump forward slightly, then she walked back to take Nahtan's hand again.
"I think we need to talk to Yenene about her," Bear said, nodding to Valry.
"I think you're right," Nahtan agreed, looking at Valry with questioning eyes. She didn't notice his attention, but was looking around the room like any other child her age would.
"Who are you?" the smith demanded, his tone no longer as sure.
Nahtan looked back at the smith. "I'm King Whatever-his-name-is," he returned. "And Renato doesn't prance, and I can jump up and down in front of half the citizens in Herridon and they wouldn't recognize me, so if anyone here is gawking, it's probably at my group as a whole and not just me." He brushed the hair from his eyes with an absent gesture. Bear turned to look at him, then turned towards the boy beside the smith.
The smith considered him for a moment. "Didn't anyone ever teach you some manners?"
"They tried," Nahtan returned. He could see the smith's resolve wavering as he entered unsure ground. "But I've been on my own since I was very young, so I wasn't always given to being polite."
"Uh, Your Majesty," Bear said after a momentary pause, putting a deliberate tone on Nahtan's title.
"What?" Nahtan looked at him. Bear looked from Nahtan to the boy again, then back to Nahtan. Finally, he turned to the smith.
"Is your name by any chance Michak?" he asked the smith.
The smith's eyes burned anew with suspicion. "How would you know that?" he asked.
Bear put a hand between Nahtan's shoulder blades and pushed him forward. "Might I introduce you to your lost son, Paki? Although we call him Nahtan now since Paki isn't a very good name for a king."
"What?!" Michak demanded, his eyes looking at Nahtan with suspicion and doubt, but also the faintest hint of hope.
Nahtan, however, was looking at Bear with wide eyes. "What in the world are you talking about?" he demanded.
Bear pointed to Garren. "I knew you very well by the time we were that age," he said. "That's exactly how you looked, and you both push the hair from your eyes the same way." He looked back at Michak. "Leisl is out at the camp--along with the horses that need shoes." He paused, then motioned to Valry. "And the odd little girl here is your granddaughter, Valry."
Michak looked from Nahtan to Valry, then back to Nahtan. He turned to Garren and when he spoke, his voice was heavy with emotion. "Go get your sisters," he instructed him.
"Tykira's still in with the baby," Garren said. "Should I just stop and tell her?" His eyes didn't leave Nahtan as he spoke, and his expression was one of awe.
Nahtan's attention shifted to Garren as the boy spoke. If the smith really was his father, then that meant Garren was his brother. His head spun with the realizations that thundered through it. Of all the times he had imagined finding his family, this was not how he had thought it would occur.
"Have her come," Michak answered Garren's question. "The wind's gone down so the baby should be fine."
Garren nodded and walked to the door, his eyes never quite leaving Nahtan or Valry until he was outside and the door was closed behind him.
"Valry," Michak looked at the little girl, his eyes wide. Where he might have doubted Nahtan was his son a moment ago, she seemed all the proof he needed. The fact that she shared her name with his late wife could only mean one thing to him. His gaze shifted back to Nahtan and with a laugh, he pulled him into a fierce embrace. Nahtan was taken aback by the sudden display of acceptance, but reluctantly returned the embrace. After a moment, Michak let him go, and it seemed years of torment and worry had suddenly lifted from his expression.
"How could you have survived being taken that young?" Michak asked Nahtan after a moment, searching his face and then looking him over as if to convince himself he was really there.
"I learned to," Nahtan answered. "And I have the scars to prove the lessons." He still wasn't certain if he could believe this was his father, though something about it felt right. It was clear to him that Michak had accepted it, though.
"What of Leisl?" Michak motioned for them to sit at the table as he pulled the other two chairs in the room over to it. "Were you sold together then?" Despite his acceptance, Nahtan realized he seemed to be searching for some other verification of who Nahtan was, some tangible proof to convince him beyond any doubt.
"No," Nahtan answered. He lifted Valry onto one of the chairs, then stood behind her. "She was bought by a minor noble and his wife to take care of their baby. When the baby died in an accident she ended up marrying the noble's brother."
"She has children?" Michak asked, sitting in one of the chairs on the other side of the table. "How did you ever find each other?"
Nahtan shook his head in answer to the first question. "When I was about Garren's age, a friend of mine had found her and she told me what my birthname was. That's when I found out I was the one Halona intended to lead the armies against the Archbishop."
"We did not hear anything like that here," Michak said, shaking his head slowly, almost in disbelief. "Never was your name said here. It wasn't even said in our house after you were taken." He paused for a moment, tears building in his eyes. "You mother didn't even say it when she died."
"I think that's sort of what Halona had in mind," Bear commented.
Nahtan nodded at his friend's statement, his heart sinking at the news his mother was dead. He had hoped to find all of his family alive and well. Turning his thoughts from his mother, he motioned to Bear. "This is my best friend and Captain of the Guard, Sewati," he introduced. "Who also has a problem keeping his comments to himself sometimes."
"And my protector," Valry added, smiling. "Cause I can hide behind him if anyone tries to hurt me."
"Well, what good are the comments if everyone can't share in them?" Bear asked, brushing his fine, long black hair behind his shoulders.
Michak turned to Valry. "So you are my granddaughter," he said, his eyes moving over her. "Where is your mother?"
"She died when I was born," Valry said evenly. "I stayed with Nana until Pap
a got home from the war."
"I'll go get Leisl," Bear said, excusing himself, then pausing by the door. "So does this mean you'll shoe the horses, or should I send someone back to the last village to find another smith?"
"If that's who shoes them, they won't make it two days without going lame," Michak answered. "Bring them down in the morning a couple at a time."
Bear nodded, then stepped out into the evening and closed the door behind himself.
"What of you?" Michak asked Nahtan, his eyes searching Nahtan's face once more.
"A trapper bought me," Nahtan answered. "I became very good friends with his horses since the trapper wasn't the type I wanted to know very well. When he died, a nobleman found me and took me to Mo'ani's Stronghold where I eventually trained as a warrior."
"Papa has a big sword," Valry added. "It's even bigger than me."
Michak nodded to her. "We never heard any stories about these warriors," he said to Nahtan. "All we knew--and know now--is the Archbishop and his men."
"This is the last place where the Archbishop's men hold any power," Nahtan said. "And I'm here to destroy it. The Archbishop is dead, but his officers here liked their positions just a little too much. They seem to have forgotten to tell everyone they weren't in control anymore."
"The minstrel through town four days past said there was a group of a dozen and a half men and women. You cannot defeat these guards with that few," Michak said.
Nahtan smiled faintly. "But you don't know who I've got with me. Besides, I'm only after one man myself."
Michak studied him for a moment. "You would kill a man based on what you've been told he did, rather than find the evidence to support it?" His tone was faintly disappointed.
Nahtan returned his father's gaze. "I have the evidence back at my camp," he replied evenly. "And unless Thorvald is a pawn like the Archbishop was, I don't need anything else to hunt him down."
"He's no pawn," Michak replied, his tone turning to one of disgust. "He's as corrupt as they come. But you won't find him here in this village--or anywhere else around here."
"Why not?" Nahtan asked. He recalled Rial's statement that he'd never been able to find Thorvald to verify his existence.
"He lives west," Michak explained. "He rules the villages here from there. He won't come near Edgewind, either, even though that's the center of the slavers' ring."
Valry shifted her position in her seat. "Papa rules the people here," she argued.
"I don't think Thorvald cares," Michak told her, then stopped, as if remembering he was speaking to a little girl. "But there is time for that discussion later." He nodded. "I don't think one your age needs to hear about such things just yet."
Valry shrugged. "Brijade talks about it all the time when I'm there," she returned.
"Despite the fact that I've threatened her with everything but death to stop," Nahtan added.
"But she beat you when you fought at the camp," Valry returned, giggling. "You couldn't make her stop now anyway."
"It's bad enough Bear has to remind me," Nahtan sighed. "Now I've got you, too?" Valry giggled again, clamping her hands over her mouth.
"You were beaten by a woman?" Michak asked, raising his eyebrows.
"Brijade is no ordinary woman," Nahtan explained, then paused. "As a matter of fact, I don't know how to describe her. But her horse is one that needs a shoe fixed, so I'm sure you'll meet her tomorrow."
Just then, the door opened, letting in Garren and a woman about Nahtan's own age. The woman carried a baby wrapped in a heavy wool blanket and had a child a year or so younger than Valry clinging to her skirt. She was tall, nearly as tall as Nahtan, and stick thin. She didn't look like she could have carried and birthed the two children with her.
"Amilyn went to get Breigh and Shira," Garren told Michak. "She thought it might be better if Shira didn't come alone."
"Wisest," Michak nodded, standing up. The woman behind Garren had stopped just inside the door, her eyes wide as she looked at Nahtan.
"Paki?" she asked, her voice barely a whisper. Without waiting for an answer, she handed the wrapped baby to Garren and rushed to embrace him.
Nahtan was almost thrown off balance, but caught himself, surprised that she had as much strength as she did. For some reason, this wasn't quite what he had been expecting either.
"Tykira, easy," Michak said, coming around the table and gently pulling her away. "He probably doesn't even remember you."
"I'm sorry," Tykira said, stepping back. Nahtan could see a long-buried loss in her tear-filled eyes.
"It's okay," Nahtan said, trying to compose himself. "Honestly, I don't remember very much, mostly just short flashes of things." He paused, sorting through the faded memories, trying to distinguish those from this lifetime from those of his past life. "One of you," he began slowly. "Had a red ribbon you liked to tie in my hair once it got long enough."
Michak laughed then, and when Nahtan looked at him, he could see his father had just found the final proof he needed. "That was Amilyn," he said. "I told her I wouldn't have my son dressed up as a girl and we cut your hair that night."
Tykira smiled at her father, then Nahtan. "I remember that," she said. "She had found the ribbon out in the gully behind the smithy in Edgewind. We were all so jealous of her."
"Wait a minute," Garren said. "You let her put that ribbon in my hair until I was eight!"
Michak laughed again. "I was too old to fight with them by the time you were eight," he responded.
The door opened again, this time letting in three more women. The one who pushed the door open was shorter than the other two, and slightly plump. Her face was starting to show fine lines around her eyes, which held a look of seriousness. The second woman was of average height and build, and her features were almost as unremarkable as Nahtan's. She was helping the third woman, and Nahtan could see the pain and withdrawn look on her face immediately. Where the other two had their hair pulled back and pinned up, the third woman didn't seem to care if hers fell in her face or not. Her dress and blouse were slightly rumpled, as if they had been slept in.
"Come sit down, Shira" the second woman said gently, escorting the third to the bench.
"I want to go home," Shira said, shaking her head and resisting. "They might come back while I'm gone."
"The men are looking for them," the first woman said, helping the second pull Shira towards the bench. Her tone was as serious as her expression.
Nahtan knew immediately what Shira was referring to. He had no doubt that her children had been taken from her just as he and Leisl had been taken from Michak. He turned a serious look to Michak. "How old were they and how long ago?" he asked, his tone deadly serious.
"About a year ago," Michak answered. "Both her daughters disappeared one night when they went to feed their horse."
Nahtan's jaw set itself against the rising anger in him. He clenched his left hand into a fist, not quite noticing the pains that shot down through his fingers and up to his elbow. He barely noticed Valry turn to look at him, then slip from her chair and walk over to Shira. She tilted her head first one way, then the other as she looked at her, then reached over and gently touched her cheek. Suddenly, she turned to Nahtan.
"Papa," she said, her voice surprisingly strong. "Mama says to take her to the camp."
"There isn't anything there for her," Nahtan responded, forcing his anger down as he spoke to his daughter. He told himself there would be time enough to vent his rage when he found Thorvald.
"We have to take her, Papa, please," Valry's voice was almost begging.
"What is this?" the plump woman asked, kneeling beside Valry. "You hear voices of people that aren't here?"
Valry looked at her, studied her for a moment, then smiled. "Your name is Amilyn," she said easily. "And your other sister there is Breigh," she motioned to the third woman, who still held Shira's hand. "But there's another sister--" she paused, her brow creasing and her eyes squinting as if she was trying to see something
. "L-Linah?" she asked, but continued before anyone could respond. "She's missing too, though."
Amilyn stood and looked at Nahtan, her eyes wide, but still serious. Nahtan realized she was the one who had seen his family through their years without him and Leisl. "What kind of child is this?" she asked him. Just noticing the hen over the fire, she moved to turn the spit. "Papa, you have to remember to watch these or they burn," she admonished.
Michak shrugged. "There's more important things to attend to than dinner," he told her.
Breigh turned to look at Nahtan too, as if just remembering why they had come. "Nahtan?" she asked, her brown eyes moving over him from head to foot, then settling on his face. "You--you look like Papa did, except no beard." She smiled at him after a moment, then looked from Amilyn to Valry, then back to Nahtan. "And I think your daughter is beautiful."
"Papa, please," Valry repeated, looking at Nahtan again.
"If your camp is outside the village, she would not be able to make it," Amilyn said. "It's best she not be out in the open after dark anyway."
"Why should she go there?" Nahtan asked Valry. "Surely your mother can give you an answer to that." He realized that at some point during the trip down here, he had grown accustomed to Valry talking about things Rena told her. What had at first seemed strange and unnatural to him now seemed as much a part of Valry as her brilliant blue eyes.
Valry paused for a moment more, then a sudden confused look clouded her face. "I--" she struggled, her eyes blinking several times. "No!" Valry put her fists to her temples and collapsed to the floor.
Sixteen - "Let me take her"
Tears coursed down Jensina's cheeks as she cradled the still form of her servant in her lap. Rena's face was pale enough to almost be transparent and her lips quivered slightly, then stopped.
"That foul stinking bastard son of the universe," Halona muttered, pacing angrily behind her. "When will it be enough?!" She raised her voice and called to the stars around them. "When will it be enough for you?!"
Jensina didn't bother wiping her tears as she brushed Rena's hair from her still face. Had they arrived in time? Was there any chance they had reached Rena in time to save her soul from oblivion--that same dark, dead place they had birthed this world from? Once that bridge was crossed, there was no way to bring her back--not without both her father and Zared strengthening each other. She gently touched Rena on the forehead, then the throat, then the middle of her chest, and finally over her womb. Each touch sent a soft flow of life energy into her servant, and each one seemed to fade away without nourishing anything.