by D. L. Kramer
"It's not your fault," Nahtan assured him, meeting his gaze. "Thorvald is being led by Zared, and there isn't a mortal alive who could have stopped him." He paused. "As a matter of fact, I had to die to find out what to do."
Bear shook his head, but didn't argue. "What did Rena tell you?"
"He's taking her to Basiyr where he has allies," Nahtan replied. "It doesn't sound like he wants her dead. I'm not sure why, but it sounds like he wants her for her link to Rena or Jensina. When Thorvald grabbed her, he said the power she touches would be theirs."
"That doesn't make any sense," Bear said. "Doesn't he know you'll be coming after him?"
Nahtan paused, images falling into place as his mind became more aware. "Think about it," he said. "What was the last thing he saw before he got out that door?"
Bear considered it for a moment, then raised an eyebrow. "He thinks you're dead and Rial is a traitor," he realized.
Nahtan nodded, for the slightest moment pleased with himself for figuring something out before his quick-witted friend. Losing Valry must have devastated him if he was having that much trouble thinking clearly. "And if he thinks I'm dead, then he's going to see his way to the throne clear."
"So what now?" Bear asked. "You won't be able to travel for a while yet."
"Where's Rial?" Nahtan asked.
"Locked up in one of the wagons," Bear answered. "I figured it was probably best since Brijade's out to kill him in a serious way now."
Nahtan sighed. He knew none of their wagons would hold Rial if he didn't want to stay. That he hadn't tried escaping told him the young lord believed his tactic had been the right one and he needed to wait for Nahtan to recover before he'd be safe again.
"Get word to Mo'ani, Adie, Tosia and Arlend," Nahtan said after forcing himself to swallow. His mouth and throat seemed incredibly dry. "Have Mo'ani, Arlend and Adie head back north and get enough armies to march on Basiyr. Adie might be able to tell you how large the armies there are since she was just there when she took Kile's signet ring to his cousin. Have Tosia get to Jerai and bring a Dweller cavalry to stage at Herridon. I want Lady Bavol to secure Bavol Hold, then bring a unit of archers to Herridon. Have her pass along word to Lord and Lady Corydon, too. I want the Takis Mo'ani to secure the Stronghold and the Devayne and Garyn Mo'ani to secure and hold the borders south of Valin. I want Herridon and the south borders secure, then I want armies marching on Basiyr as soon as possible."
"We'll take care of it," Bear assured him. "But you aren't going to get your strength back if you start out giving war orders."
Nahtan met his friend's gaze, the fury inside him finally breaking free.
"Thorvald wants a war," he said, his voice grim. "I'll give him a war he'll regret starting."
Epilogue - "It won't kill you"
Valry studied her captors as she carefully twisted her small hands in the ropes binding them. Calm, her father had said. If you were ever lost in the woods, surviving depended on staying calm. Her young mind raced as her brilliant blue eyes shifted to their surroundings. It was nearly dusk, and making out details seemed impossible. She wasn't exactly lost, she knew which direction they were heading, but she knew Nahtan's advice applied here, too.
Her first thought had been to try to mark the trail so her father could follow them, but with the numbers of travelers they'd encountered, she didn't know how to distinguish their horses' hooves from the others. Now that they had stopped for the night, she still didn't know what to do.
She turned her attention to one of the men as he approached, a smoked slice of salted venison and skin of water in one hand.
"Here's ye're dinner," he said, kneeling in front of her to untie her hands. Once they were freed, he retied one wrist, then secured the rope to one of the saddles.
"I'm not going to run away," Valry assured him, her tone level. That was another thing she had learned from her father; shouting and crying at someone never accomplished anything.
"The Lord says ye're to be restrained," he said, handing her the venison and water.
She paused, listening to the voice whispering in her mind. "Like a dog?" she asked pointedly, repeating what it had said. She paused again when she realized the voice had the same accent as this man's. As the man grunted and walked away, she closed her eyes, trying to feel this other presence as she so often felt her mother's. After several seconds, no face drifted into sight, but the faint, melodic notes of a flute flowed through her thoughts.
She smiled as the tune gently brought back a stream of memories of time with her father. Time spent gathering wildflowers for her mother and the Goddess Jensina. The time he had shown her how to carry a dagger so she wouldn't cut herself. Her father walking beside her, one hand behind her as she learned to keep her balance on Ayita's back and control the reins.
Her brow creased as the memories took on a darker tone. Something deep and dark burned within her father, and he battled everyday to keep it buried. She had felt it wrenching within him on more than one occasion. Would her capture give it the force to break free, and if so would Bear be able to stop Nahtan? Valry's mother had not been able to tell her anything of that fire, and Valry feared if it burst free, her father would become everything he despised.
With the slightest effort, she gave the memories a soft nudge, sending them back into the lighter, happier times. It was the same thing she did while dreaming; if a dream started heading down a path she didn't like, she simply pushed it back where she wanted it. Like the dark cliff above the endless chasm she dreamed about sometimes.
Almost immediately, details started becoming sharper as the flute continued playing. Valry drew a breath when she saw the little bush with the deep purple berries. "It won't kill you," her father had said, warning her away from it. "But it'll make you very sick. The same with the horses, so keep Ayita away from them."
Valry's smile grew as she opened her eyes again. There, just a few feet away, grew one of the little bushes. She was certain it hadn't been there before, and had a feeling the mysterious musician had played a part in it's appearance. Not about to question such a gift, she slowly rose up and crawled over to it, pulling as many of the ripe berries off as she could safely hide in her pockets.
The story continues in Olorun - Book 5 Chronicles of Nahtan