Magic's Genesis- The Grey

by Rosaire Bushey

  “You must be our newcomers, welcome to Brookfield.”

  Grettune took turns shaking everyone by the hand and offering a small hug to the women and a generous stroke to Kimi’s up-turned tummy, before motioning for Relin to move over so that she might sit down. When she did, she had hardly settled in before the glass of wine was in front of her and the conversation in the Ice Pillar picked up again.

  Grettune gave them some general information about the town including where they should visit and what the shops and stalls might have of interest. She was very proud of how much they had accomplished since all the newcomers had arrived and after several minutes of this, she paused to look at each member of the party before stopping at Lydria whom she asked what plans the group had about settling down and work.

  “I had hoped to find work with a healer, or perhaps a seamstress,” Lydria replied smoothly.

  “Your skills with a healer may be more in demand than you might think.” Grettune looked genuinely saddened by the prospect and hung her head for a moment, long enough for Lydria to reach out and grasp her hand. The warm yellow glow that poured between their fingers surprised everyone and Krieger looked up quickly to Lydria who responded with a shrug of her shoulders, as confused as everyone else. Grettune didn’t seem to see the light which was hidden by her body from the rest of the room, but her visage changed noticeably. Her head came up and her eyes went wide, her mouth opened slightly, and her jaw went slack as if she were staring into an unimaginable expanse. Lydria removed her hand and the light faded. Grettune’s mouth closed slowly, and her lips crept up into a smile such as one might get upon sipping a hot drink after coming in from the cold.

  “What did you see?” It was Haidrea who asked.

  “Perhaps we should talk elsewhere,” Krieger said softly, nudging Grettune’s foot with his own as he did so. The governess quickly regained her composure, and delicately sipped her wine.

  She raised her voice slightly so that she would be sure to be overhead by others in the room, none of whom seemed to have witnessed anything out of the ordinary. “You are all very well met and welcome to stay in Brookfield for as long as you wish. Indeed, I would take it as a singular honor if you would visit me tomorrow that we might have a morning meal together and you can tell me of your plans. Hopefully I can convince you to stay. She smiled brightly at the group and pushed her chair back quietly before retracing her steps around the room, wishing a good evening to all and, perhaps most shockingly to Krieger and Branch, paying for her drink before she left, a stream of well wishes following her out the door.

  “Well, there’s something you don’t see every day,” Branch said. “A titled ruler who shakes the common person by the hand and then pays for her own drink.”

  “Not just her own, but yours as well.” It was the barman who had come to deliver the news about their drinks. “You have your rooms. If it please you, I would like to come up for a chat after closing.”

  Without allowing time for questions or a response of any kind, the barman shuffled off to wipe up tables and clear dishes just as his servers had done earlier.

  Without further conversation, the group finished their food and left the common area to head to their rooms. On their way up, they enthusiastically returned good evenings and fare-thee-wells wished by the remaining patrons of the tavern.

  Inside the room at the end of the hall, Krieger stood as the others sat on the edges of the three pallet beds that occupied most of the room’s space, while Relin and Branch sat on the floor, Relin to the side of the door and Branch across the room opposite it.

  “What say the spirits, Haidrea?” Krieger asked. It was apparent he had an opinion on what had happened, but he wanted all the information possible before committing to his course out loud.

  Haidrea was still and no one interrupted her. The only sound in the room, was the breathy purr of Kimi, who had curled up on the lap of Lydria content to be petted.

  “The barman and the Governess have spent time in each other’s company. They smell of each other.”

  “Are you suggesting she spends a lot of time in the tavern?” Lydria thought it was a curious place for a governess to spend much of her time.

  “Not at all. I suggest that these two have a far more intimate space where they each spend considerably more time than she spends here.”

  “Do you think the others are aware of their relationship?”

  “I can smell things, I can’t read minds.” Kimi scoffed at the thought. “I will say, though, that there isn’t much that would surprise me here. Everyone is happier than in any other human settlement – even Eifynar wasn’t like this. They just seem very satisfied and fulfilled with what they’ve accomplished.”

  Before Haidrea could provide an answer for Krieger, there was a light knock at the door and Relin opened it cautiously. The barman squeezed through the doorway and motioned for it to be quickly closed behind him.

  “My name is Perryn, I’m the landlord here and Grettune wishes that I speak with you.” Perryn looked around the room, sizing up each of those who stood before him and realizing, with a definitive sagging of his shoulders, that should things go poorly, he wouldn’t leave alive.

  “Sit, Perryn, and tell us what you have to say.” Krieger was now in his element. As a spy there was a certain statecraft employed and the kingdom man did it with a grace and ease that Lydria could only marvel at. His tone with Perryn confirmed to everyone that he was in charge and they shouldn’t interrupt.

  Perryn was not an old man, nor was he like the overweight, stained slobs Lydria was familiar with from visits to inns and taverns and bars with her father. He was older than Lydria but not as old as Krieger, and beneath his apron his torso was still lean and solid. If his forearms were larger and better defined, he could pass for a blacksmith; but as it was they were modestly muscled and attached to a somewhat sunken chest that hinted perhaps at a poor ability to engage in vigorous activity. His hair was full and brown and his face accustomed to smiling often. Even his eyes seemed happy – wide and without the darkness underneath that were hallmarks of the poor, tired, and oppressed.

  Lydria caught the eye of Haidrea who nodded and smiled, signifying the man could be trusted. Her glance did not escape Krieger who assumed a more relaxed posture as well, sitting on a bench across from the man and leaning in to give more attention to his story.

  “Grettune …” the man licked his lips, unsure of how to go on. “She wants your help. She believes you might be able to help her and Brookfield in the coming war. War is coming, if you didn’t already know. Even now the army of Wesolk rides north to Solwyn. Grettune believes you may be able to help save the lives of many people.”

  “How are we to do that? And whose lives are we to save?” Krieger kept his questioning short and left little room for anything other than answers that would give him information.

  “The lives you save may be your own. To do this thing, you need to reach Solwyn before Ahlric. You need to kill Wynter.”

  FORTY-FOUR

  The Palace of the Governess was more title than building. It was a stunning structure compared to the simple single-story buildings surrounding it, but it was nothing special other than that it was made of stone and brick. Most buildings were mud and sticks, so the Governess’ home seemed palatial.

  Inside, it was far more splendid with rugs and tapestries and furnishings that must have come from far-off kingdoms.

  Grettune met them and led them inside through a series of doors to what Lydria believed to be the center of the building.

  “We’re not alone here are we, Kimi?”

  “No. There are small holes somewhere in the walls – I can feel the air on my whiskers. I would guess they are there for defense rather than fresh air.”

  “I’m very glad you’ve come,” Grettune said, indicating seats that had been placed very specifically in a semi-circle around a large desk in the middle of the room. “Tell me, what happened when you touched my hand?”

&nb
sp; The woman was direct, a trait Lydria appreciated and was sure that Krieger would think highly of as well. There was no reason for pleasantries – if Grettune didn’t find out what she wanted it was almost certain they would be dead. Lydria raised her head as if to try to explain, but Grettune held up a hand to stop her.

  “No. I don’t want to know. I feel much better because of it, however, and clearer of mind. My husband, Perryn, tells me you treated him well and were gracious guests. I expect, based on what I saw when you touched my hand,” Grettune looked at Lydia with warmth and thanks, “that you may be able to help my people, and possibly those of Solwyn, and even Bayside. Perryn has told you what needs to be done.”

  After several seconds where it was obvious Grettune would say no more, Krieger ventured a cautious nod. “The people seem to love their king, and their governess. Why do you believe this needs to be done?”

  “Despite all the good that has been done in the north, there is danger.” Grettune smiled when she saw the looks of confusion on her guest’s faces. “Yes, he has done remarkable things in a short time. He has rid the people of the north of minor lords who behaved as tyrants. He has freed the people of unfair taxation, allowed them to work for themselves and the betterment of their communities; he enriches individuals and allows those who do well and treat others fairly to flourish, while making examples of those who would get rich and lazy off the backs of others and use people as slaves or chattel.”

  “Why does a man such as this need to go? Why not let him continue to build this wonderful new country?”

  It was a bold statement and one that could get them all killed, but Lydria knew Krieger did not ask it lightly.

  Grettune smiled again. Smiling was natural for her, it came easily, and it fit her face. She and Perryn were well matched, Lydria thought, but the barman’s wife had a core of steel that he might not possess.

  “Because he’s mad. He wields power that is unlike anything you’ve ever witnessed. Much of the success of our own town has come because of his power. There are those who think he is possessed by a demon. He calls his power magic, but the name of the demon doesn’t matter. His power is absolute, and he treats us well, but an observant child could see he merely plans to use his people as willing fodder in this fight against Ahlric. But the people are so well treated, they don’t observe, they smile and rejoice in the savior of the Cobalt Tower. But, when he has his war, and wins – and he will win - how many more battles will there be?”

  “Your people have certainly been used as fodder before – against their will. Why is this so different?” Branch leaned closer, nearly sitting on the very edge of his seat, almost impatient to hear her answer.

  “What happens when he wins? Do you think this pleasant lie will continue?”

  “Why us? How did you know you could trust us?” Haidrea spoke before Krieger could get out the same question, but from Haidrea it resulted in a softening of Grettune’s posture.

  “Because, when I touched her hand,” Grettune pointed to Lydria, “I felt warm, and whole. I could see you, Haustis.” The use of the title took everyone by surprise being hidden as they were behind Lydria’s magic. “I could see you all riding to Solwyn and throwing down the Cobalt Tower. I could see Ahlric’s army riding only to find defeat.”

  “Is there more?” Haidrea asked as if she knew there were more.

  At this Grettune shuddered. “I saw the fall and rise of two great kings as the pillars crumbled. And I saw two men made whole. Other things I saw as well, but those things, I think, are for another time when we meet again.”

  “The spirits have shown me these things as well,” said Haidrea. “Also, a second path should we fail. That path leads to war far beyond Bayside.”

  “Well then, Governess, we should be moving.” Krieger’s tone indicated for his part the conversation was through, but he looked to the woman to see if there were more she had yet to say.

  “Yes, that would be best. There are those, even in Solwyn, who will aid you in your quest.” Grettune opened a drawer in her desk and took out a fine eagle-feather quill and presented it to Haidrea. “Before being chosen to lead these people, I was a teacher of the young and have let that experience guide me. By this sign, those you shall meet will know you and you can speak freely if they present you a vial of blue ink.”

  Grettune stood and escorted the party outside to their waiting horses. “I will do my best to send only those who would help you along the Governess’ Road and hinder the travel of all those who would fight for Wynter or his cause.”

  “Grettune,” Lydria stepped forward and held out the small stone sphere indicating the governess should touch it. For a moment Grettune’s hand lingered over the stone before she pulled it away. “This too, I have seen. When Wynter has been cast down, I will consider this gift, but now is not the time.”

  FORTY-FIVE

  The road to Solwyn was flat and hard and the horses stretched their legs and made admirable time. Very little trade was taking place as the communities readied for war and travel along the road was largely heading toward Solwyn instead of away from it. By this, they realized Grettune was true in her estimation of Wynter’s use of his people.

  The road, they knew, should be flooded with people trying to escape the nightmare that awaited a city under threat by a larger army. But there were no wagons filled with children or women or the sick or infirm heading west. The wagons they passed heading east were full of foodstuffs, weapons, and men. But they were too pitifully few to be of much assistance.

  With hard riding, they soon joined a small group of farmers bringing their early crop in from the fields. All around the city, fields were being harvested early to deny Ahlric sustenance and increase the city’s stocks. Despite the impending battle, the gates, such as they were, were hardly guarded. The men pressed to matters such as reinforcing the small, new walls and drilling archers. The army, when it arrived, would be visible for a long time before reaching the walls. Full deployments of guards at the gate were unnecessary. When Ahlric’s host showed themselves, the gates would be sealed.

  The group was waved through with no more than a passing glance at Krieger and his party who, thanks to Lydria, still looked like farmers themselves. When they entered the city, they were struck at once with how new everything looked. The lumber and logs for the dwellings, as well as the rocks for larger buildings, walls, and fortifications, were not from the local area and must have been transported dozens if not hundreds of leagues to reach a point so far north.

  With the castle their only destination, they continued east through the sparse market where fresh fish and meat were among the main offerings. Heavy clothes made from elk, and seal, some spices from the south, carvings made of bone – these indicated a population continuing with life as death marched toward them. The only indication of trouble ahead were the echoes of hammers on metal that rang out continuously from every direction and the smell of blacksmith furnaces - the number of which seemed to be enough for a city many times its size.

  “These people may look like they are going about their business, but they are preparing for war, there is little doubt.” Krieger’s tone was ominous but accurate. Looking at the people, Lydria realized almost everyone – to include the women – were armed. Swords, daggers, small shields, leather bracers, gauntlets, and leggings. If Ahlric expected to sweep these people aside or march into town as its citizens ran away, he and his men would pay for their misplaced expectations in blood.

  Kimi, who had been running free since entering the city in his tomcat disguise, was ahead of the group and watching from a rooftop when he spotted the Cobalt Tower. It was easily the tallest structure in the area, but as the sun rose in the east, it was so well hidden by the blue sky, it seemed to simply appear on the horizon. The castle it anchored was not easily missed either, sunlight glinting off its icy surface, but it was perhaps only half the height of the tower and not nearly as grand as castles of the south.

  “Wynter certainly isn�
�t trying to hide.” Kimi’s thoughts reached Lydria as she made her way past a group of soldiers led by an enormous man – a soldier of rank. The soldier’s gaze swept over them as his eyes adjusted to the light after coming out of a barracks to their right. He continued to walk but stopped and looked toward them again, focusing his attention on Krieger.

  The enormous man told his lieutenant to bring men south to reinforce the patrols and posts, and then he turned his full attention to the group as they tried to skirt past.

  “Hold there, strangers.” He did not bellow the command but there was no denying it was a command. “Do I know you? Something of your walk is familiar, yet your face is not.” The soldier walked toward Krieger, his question directed at him alone. “What is your name?”

  For the first time, Lydria knew Krieger wasn’t sure exactly how to respond, but it was apparent he was aware of who this man was. Several tense seconds of silence followed as the soldier reached for a dagger that would suffice as a short sword for many of more moderate size, when Krieger broke the silence and stayed the man’s hand.

  “It is I, Keldon – Krieger of Bayside. But no longer in the employ of the king who marches toward your gates,” he added quickly. “How long has it been, my friend?”

  “Friend, he says. Ha! How long since you stunted my growth with the beating you gave me as a boy? And you have retained your skill at subterfuge. Even for a farmer, you are the roughest I have ever seen.”

  “Keldon, to be fair, you were taller than I even at such a young age, and I’ve had help with my disguise.”