The Quest for the Lost Shards of Power

by F M Andrews

  The farmer’s wife’s face was a picture of surprise when she opened the door to Hexrick, Lutex and a tribe of felines. “What?.... Where have they all come from?”

  “They aren’t yours?” Hexrick burst out laughing again. This was getting better and better.

  “No, no, we only have five or six. These cats must be wild.”

  “Well, don’t worry, they will go when we do,” Hexrick reassured her. “They have only come to pay homage to this young man here. They will soon be on their way.” The farmer’s wife did not seem so certain and hurriedly shut the door behind them to ensure no cat crossed her threshold.

  After a hearty breakfast, they once again resumed their journey. The road was covered in the detritus of the storm. Small twigs and even larger branches were strewn across it and mirror-like puddles filled any dip. The road was muddy and they soon found it was easier to ride on the grassy verge rather than the road itself. The sky overhead still held grey clouds but, threatening as they looked, they were holding on tightly to any rain they may contain.

  They had made steady progress. For the past few days they had been climbing the foothills, winding their way towards the low pass through the Rick mountain range, and today they would reach it. Hexrick noticed with relief that it was still clear of snow although the tops were coated in white. The province of Rick lay on the other side.

  At the pass Hexrick halted Tilda and sat looking out over the province of his birth. “What say we make a small detour? The village I grew up in is just over there.” He pointed vaguely in the right direction. “And I am sure we will get a decent feed and a warm bed there.” It had been a long time since Hexrick had been back to the small settlement where he was born and raised; however, this journey would take him within a day's travel of it, and with all the reminiscing he had been doing lately he suddenly felt a strange urge to go home for a visit. “What do you think?” Lutex patted Tilda, his face screwed up, deep in thought. Hexrick was not sure if this was intended as a joke or not until a cheeky smile gave the boy away. “Okay, okay, you are right. What have we got to lose?” Hexrick laughed, shaking his head in disbelief at how easily he had been played.

  It was late evening as they rode into the village of Hosting and the sun was just about to disappear behind the mountain peaks. Already the temperature was dropping and Hexrick was feeling the chill even though he was wrapped in a thick winter cloak.

  The place looked exactly as it had when he was growing up here. It was as if he had just been away for a moment rather than several turns. His father owned the village blacksmith and Hexrick had heard from his brother that, although he had become too old to do the heavy work, his knowledge and expertise meant that he was still sought after. Apparently he now had apprentices who could carry out his designs. The smithy was at the edge of the village with a large area out front for wagons that needed fixing and horses that needed shoeing. As Hexrick rode into the corral, he smelt the familiar tangy aroma of iron, flux, steam, horse manure and smoke. He was home.

  Before he could even dismount the front door burst open and his mother catapulted out of it and flew towards him, waving his arms, laughing delightedly and calling his name.

  “Hexie, Hexie, is that you? My boy, my boy has come home,” she cried as she raced across the yard towards him. “Get down here right now and give me a hug.” She had finally reached Tilda and was standing, hands on ample hips, grinning up at him. Lutex, who had been snuggling deep in Hexrick’s cloak, poked his tousled head out and looked down to see who was making all the noise.

  It was a moment to treasure. Hexrick couldn’t stop himself laughing as his mother’s mouth snapped shut, her eyes grew wide and a total look of confusion stole across her face. It was not often his mother was stuck for words. Quickly, she threw him a quizzical glance before returning her gaze to Lutex. Hexrick could guess the scenarios that were going through her mind, and for a wicked moment he thought he would let her continue to guess. Eventually his conscience got the better of him and he came clean. “Mother, I would like to introduce you to Lutex, a young man in my charge. I am transporting him to the village of Upper Hull.”

  A strange mixture of relief and regret crossed her face before her natural joyful nature reinstated itself. “Oh my word, what a lovely surprise. Not only my son but a child to cherish as well. Come on, both of you. Don’t just sit there! Come and give an old lady the hug she so desperately needs.” There was no avoiding her love.

  Hearing the commotion, Hexrick’s father emerged from the smithy, wiping his hands on an old cloth as he came.

  “Well, it’s about time you came home for a visit. Your mother was beginning to drive me mad, always worrying about how you were doing.” These gruff words were softened by the warm smile and huge bear hug that accompanied them. It was good to come home, and he wondered why he did not visit more often. Duty, he presumed.

  That night all the family that still lived in the village came to share dinner. Hexrick had two brothers, one who was also a knight and one who was a farmer just down the road. He also had three sisters, all of whom lived close by. Each of his siblings present were married and between them had a whole bunch of offspring. The house was brimming. Adults’ conversations were carried out over the heads of the children, who darted in between legs and furniture, intent on their own games. Lutex fitted in remarkably well and was soon off playing with the other children as if he had known them his whole life. It reminded Hexrick that Lutex came from an equally big family and that he must be missing them terribly.

  A wonderful feast was soon produced and everyone tucked in with zeal. He had forgotten how boisterous his family could be, and what a wonderful thing it was to be part of; that is, of course, if you weren't in the mood for some quiet contemplation. He supposed this was why he liked being in the Prince’s Knights so much. It was also a loud, raucous family.

  As the evening grew late, many adults were in the kitchen, talking quietly as they finished the dishes and the children, who had finally run out of steam, were falling asleep in untidy lumps on the beds and the mat before the fire. Hexrick had been excused dishes duty, on account of being the guest of honour, and looking around he noticed his youngest sister, Valrick, sitting quietly by the fire on her own. He had not really noticed her during the meal and this was odd as she was usually the one laughing the loudest. She took after her mother in that regard. Cornering his mother, he had asked what the trouble was. “Oh, it’s so sad, so sad.” Hexrick’s mother shook her head and sighed. “Lost her child last moon to Childbane. It was a deer wee boy, only a couple of moons old. There was nothing anyone could do. She hasn’t smiled since but what is worse is that she hasn’t cried either. We have all tried to help her but she has just disappeared into herself and no one can reach her. She won’t even talk about it.” She paused thoughtfully. “Maybe she will talk to you?” There was a sad pleading look in his mother’s eyes he had not seen before, and he could not refuse her.

  “I’ll try,” he sighed. Carefully picking his way through the maze of sleeping children he made his way to the fire and sat down next to his sister. She did not look up but continued to stare into the fire, her hands slack in her lap.

  “I had forgotten what a mad house this place is,” he opened, not sure what to say.

  “Yes, some things don’t change,” she replied in a flat voice, still gazing at the fire. Hexrick fidgeted in his seat.

  “I am so sorry to hear about your little one.” He heard the catch in his voice and realised how true this was. She lowered her head and nodded. They had never been really close as he was the eldest and she the youngest, but she had always been the life of the party, the practical joker, into everything and anything and this quiet, reclusive woman beside him now was so different that it was quite unnerving and upsetting.

  He was at a loss as what to say next when Lutex wandered over and climbed into his lap, that impossible hair tickling Hexrick’s cheek. Valrick lifted her chin to peek at Lutex, her hand lifti
ng involuntary for a moment before dropping back down to her lap. Lutex squirmed, and then in true Lutex fashion, did the unexpected, absolutely right thing. He climbed off Hexrick’s lap and onto Valrick’s, snuggled in and went to sleep.

  Valrick was so taken back that she just sat there to begin with; however, after a few moments she placed protective arms around him to stop him falling off. They sat like this for a while, not talking, Valrick slowly, ever so slowly, relaxing with this strange child sound asleep in her arms. They sat in companionable silence like this for a so long that Hexrick almost missed her first words, they were so quiet.

  “It was my fault.” He didn’t react, intuition telling him to sit still and not make eye contact. “I should have kept him safe. It was my job to make sure he didn’t get ill and I failed.” She spoke in a monotone with no emotion. “When he did get sick I couldn’t save him. Nothing I tried helped.” Finally she looked up at Hexrick and asked in a whisper. “How could I let my baby die?”

  Hexrick noticed her hand had crept up to Lutex’s hair and was smoothing it gently off his forehead. He shook his head slowly. He had no answers.

  “He was so small, so defenceless.” She murmured as she bent and kissed the top of Lutex’s head. “So precious.” Lutex stirred and snuggled closer. “And now,” she paused taking a shuddering breath, “and now, I can’t even picture his face.” A single tear rolled down her cheek. Hexrick sat stunned. She was crying, finally grieving for her loss. A sob wracked her body and she gave into it, rocking Lutex gently as she wept. It was a beginning. There was still a long way to go but the healing had finally begun. Hexrick placed a brotherly arm around her shoulders and drew both her and the small boy who could fix broken hearts into his protective embrace and held her while she cried.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Anssan leapt into the saddle.

  Time to get moving! It was late morning now and still the tearful good-byes were in full swing. There was not a dry eye in the whole line of well-wishers who had come to say farewell to Hezrill, and it was a long line. It seemed to Anssan that Hezrill had hugged each person at least three times. As sensitive as he felt he had to be, he would also like to be at least half a day’s ride from Eastrim before night fell.

  Following his lead the troop mounted, and he hoped that this would help to hurry the process along. Sure enough, Hezrill finally disengaged herself from her mother and mounted her horse, a beautiful chestnut mare of impeccable breeding.

  At last! Anssan saluted the family and gave the command to ride. However, they had just began to move forward when a small pony surrounded by a pack of excited dogs rode out from behind the stables. “Wait, wait for me. I’m coming too,” Linrill cried. Anssan groaned, another hold up. Was it going to take all day just to get to the end of the driveway? The troop halted, resigned to another delay, as Hezrill dismounted and made her way back to talk with her determined little sister. Even in his frustration, Anssan could not help but notice how Hezrill appeared to glide across the ground, how she was gentle but firm with Linrill and how composed she seemed amidst all the emotion of the day. Anssan did not know what Hezrill said, but the result was that Linrill did not follow them; instead, she watched them go with a defiant, albeit trembling, chin held high, hands clutching tightly on the reins, surrounded by the dogs who, amazingly, were now sitting obediently.

  “What did you say to her?” Anssan whispered to Hezrill once they had rounded the bend in the driveway. “I can’t imagine that she would be persuaded to change her mind very easily.”

  “Just that it was her turn to look after father now and make sure that all was well when I returned.” Hezrill was looking down at her hands as she said this so Anssan had no idea if she was joking or serious, but that simple sentence told him more about Hezrill than all the pomp and ceremony had done the day before.

  Life on the road soon fell into a familiar pattern, although there were a few interesting small changes. Now that there were women along, stories were not so bawdy, swearing decreased markedly and designated areas for the toilet were decreed. There was also the small matter of Orassan. Orassan was the elder woman who was Hezrill’s chaperone. She was a very small woman with a very large bosom and a forceful personality. Fortunately for everyone this personality took the form of a caring matriarch. It was remarkable how quickly she took over and became ‘camp mother’. No one would even think of disagreeing with her ‘suggestions’. Miracle meals appeared made from their normal supplies and clothing was mended without a word spoken. She did, however, have high expectations and if someone failed to live up to these it only took one of her special ‘looks’ for that person to know they had disappointed her. No one was exempt: even Anssan had been received ‘the look’.

  Hezrill, on the other hand, just slipped in and became part of the troop. There were no airs and graces despite her pampered upbringing. She was dressed to ride in leather trousers, woollen jerkin and warm winter cloak and her luggage consisted of just two saddle bags. She helped with the chores without being asked and chatted happily with everyone. The thing that Anssan could not get over was that no matter what she was doing, she always appeared calm and elegant. There was an inherent grace to everything she did and it was driving him insane.

  He had never felt like this before. When she was near, he found it hard to breathe let alone have a clear thought in his head but when she wasn’t close by, all he could think about was what she might be doing. It was painful either way. As a result he found himself becoming more and more introverted. He knew he was being unsociable yet he didn’t seem to be able to stop himself. His men, being men, gave him space, made the odd joke, and let him deal with it in his own way but still, he knew that as their leader, he was going to have to pull himself together and resolve this thing soon.

  Hezrill, however, seemed totally unaware of the effect she was having on him, and often would ride next to him or sit with him at dinner, usually asking questions about life at court. One thing he did notice was that she never talked about her mission, never asked where she might be going, what she might expect to find or how she might achieve her given goal. Something Anssan found quite strange.

  He decided to ask her about it one day when he had rare opportunity to talk with her alone. They had gone to the nearby river to collect water and it was one of those exceptional days in early winter when summer comes to play one last time before disappearing for the season. The air was almost warm and although there was not a lot of heat in the sun, there wasn’t a single cloud in the sky. Their task complete, Anssan took a moment to lie back with his hands behind his head and look up at the pale blue expanse above. He knew that he would never summon enough courage to broach the subject if he was looking into her eyes.

  “What a beautiful day,” he began, trying to keep his tone light and breezy. “I wonder what it will be like where you are going? Maybe it will be summer there.” Aware that he had dropped a stone into deep pool he waited for the reaction. The silence continued for so long that he was beginning to feel guilty and when she finally answered her voice was so quiet that it made him sit up and move closer to hear.

  She had picked a piece of grass and was pulling it through the thumb and forefinger of one hand, repeating the action in a slow rhythmical way as if she were thinking hard. “It is impossible to imagine what is ahead of me and I find that…” she paused and looked up at the sky, “terrifying,” she finished exhaling all her pent up breath at once. She appeared to fold in on herself before his eyes. “All my life I have known exactly what was going to happen next.” She turned and looked him directly in the eye. His heart clenched. “I have had a charmed life really.” She returned her gaze back to the river again and he began to breathe again. “I can dance, I can write poetry, I can converse on many subjects but I have no skill when it comes to anything else. I am underprepared.” She spread her arms as if asking the world to answer her. “How can I be expected to go into the unknown, find a hidden treasure, fight goodness knows what an
d save Feld?” She twisted round to gaze at him once more, her eyes were intense and imploring with tears glistening on her dark lashes. “I can ride, use a map and heal a wound but I don’t even know how to defend myself, track, live off the land or even how to hide from danger...” She ran out of words as if the list of things she could not do was just too overwhelming.

  Anssan sat back stunned. Ever since he had met Hezrill he had thought of her as perfect. She always projected such an image of unruffled serenity and self confidence that he had never even thought that she would be troubled with doubts and uncertainties of any kind. He had thought that she was a paragon of faultless purity, but now he could see that this was all in his mind. In an instant his whole perspective of her changed dramatically. It was such a sudden adjustment that he almost felt disorientated. One moment he was viewing her as an angel on a pedestal and the next he saw her as she really was, a beautiful young girl trying to do her best in the world. It changed everything. Instead of idiotically idolizing her from afar he could now see she needed reassurance, help and most of all a friend. How could he have been so selfishly stupid!

  Instinctively he reached out and drew her into his arms. She was so small and fragile. She rested her head on his chest and let herself sob. This morning if someone had told him he would be holding her like this he would have laughed at them, but right now it felt like the most natural thing in the world to do. Slowly her sobs subsided and her breathing returned to normal. She quietly disengaged herself from him, wiped her eyes with the back of her hand, sniffed and attempted to straighten her hair.

  “Sorry,” she whispered. “I have tried to be strong but the further from home and the closer to the boundary we get, the more frightened I am.” She smiled apologetically up at him.