The Guardian Read online

  She blinked back tears, conjuring images of the palace, of happier times. Or trying, for mostly she found herself remembering the statuary and the tapestries, the mosaics that depicted battles, glorious victories, and Chaldor’s enemies kneeling in obeisance. None showed the blood that flowed, nor did the fallen bear such expressions as the man she had seen killed. The gods knew, but she wanted so badly to go home, and knew she could not. She must go on with this … What was he, savage or champion? Her father had trusted him, named him friend, and her mother clearly believed her daughter safe in the guardian’s hands. But Ellyn was not so sure. She relived those recent moments—the shock of the bandits’ approach, her outrage giving way to naked terror, the desperate flight and the horrid threats, Gailard’s arrival and its bloody aftermath. Surely her father would have offered the last brigand honorable quarter, certainly he would not have looted the dead. Yet after, Gailard had been gentle, and she had clung to him gratefully, aware of his solid body, his strength. In those brief moments he had seemed no savage, but kind as her father, as caring. Then she had grown conscious of the blood-smell, the stench of the dead man’s death-opened bowels, and pushed away. And then Gailard had picked her up and set her astride the dead man’s horse as if she were a possession, his prize.

  She felt anger stir. He had no right to handle her like that. She might be his charge, but she was still a princess of Chaldor, heir to Chorym’s throne, and deserving of far greater respect. But she could do nothing. She was, she thought, as helpless in his hands as she had been in the bandits’, and did he treat her gentler, still he had threatened to strike her and lash her to her mount. And that sop he’d thrown her—“do you behave yourself, we’ll even stop for breakfast.” How dare he patronize her so! She ground her teeth as ire mounted, replacing despondency. When she came into her own power she would repay these insults. Were she crowned, she’d repay him; did she find her talent, she’d lash him with magic.

  But when would that be? Her mother had assured her she owned the magical talent, but Ellyn could find no sign of it. The far-seeing of the Dur was, Ryadne had explained, a whimsical thing, stronger in some than in others, and never truly reliable. She did not think, she had told her daughter, that Ellyn owned that kind of magic, for it became apparent as a girl became a woman, and her first bleedings had brought no evidence. However, Ryadne had assured her, the talent was in her, likely closer to those powers the Vachyn wielded, and consequently later to develop. She recalled the conversation, before her world was turned upside down.

  A warm summer breeze had swept swallows about Chorym’s battlements, soft as a caress, gentle as the ordered fields that spread about the city. The war had seemed far away then, and Ryadne had as yet kept her grim foreknowledge of Andur’s death to herself—Ellyn anticipated her father’s triumphant return, and wondered why her mother seemed so withdrawn, so intense.

  “I have spoken of this with those who own some little knowledge,” Ryadne had said, “and read what little there is to read on the subject. But only the Vachyn truly know, and I cannot speak with them.”

  “Perhaps I have no talent,” Ellyn had suggested. “Perhaps the blood of Chaldor dilutes the Dur gift.”

  “No.” Ryadne had shaken her head. “I sense it in you, like a smoldering fire.”

  “Then when shall it kindle?”

  Ryadne shrugged at that, her brow creased in puzzled frown. “I know not. Perhaps it shall manifest itself suddenly; pehaps you must be taught to use it.”

  “By whom?” Ellyn had felt an odd chill then, as if some cold wind from the future blew back to touch her with ominous promise.

  “I cannot say.” Ryadne shrugged again. “Not the Vachyn.” Then, almost too soft for Ellyn to hear, “But I pray you do learn. I pray you learn in time.”

  “Perhaps when Father comes home,” Ellyn said. “Perhaps he’ll know.”

  “Perhaps,” Ryadne allowed, and changed the subject.

  Now Ellyn longed for the talent, and wondered if her mother had been wrong. She had willed it to the fore when the bandits came, seeking to send fire, thunderous blasts to sweep them from their horses, but nothing had happened. She exhaled irritably, thinking that if only she commanded magic, she would scourge Gailard for his impertinence, force him to his knees before her, his head bowed in due respect.

  Then she felt guilt stir. After all, he had saved her from rape and slavery and likely death, all those things the brigand had promised. And he was, she must admit, a brave and skillful warrior who risked his life on her behalf. Indeed, were he only dressed suitably—in good armor, her colors—he would make a most admirable champion. He was, she thought, a handsome man—in a rough way. But were his long hair trimmed, and that Highlander beard … She shook her head, dismissing such thoughts even as she felt her cheeks grow warm. The gods knew, the last thing she needed now was to form some childish liking for the man. She was Chaldor’s heir, she reminded herself, representative of the high bloodline of the Bright Kingdom, and he no more than she had named him—a Devyn savage.

  But still, she could not help but notice his broad shoulders, his straight back, the easy way he sat his horse. Perhaps she would not, even were she able, punish him, but only demand an apology. And meanwhile, she could do nothing but follow him and obey him, for the alternative was to return and he would not allow that. With which thought her anger flared anew, so that when he turned in his saddle and smiled at her, she scowled in reply.

  Though she noticed for the first time how white his teeth were and how warm his smile.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  I rode wary, studying the road before us and the surrounding trees, my head turning from side to side, listening for any sounds other than the steady clatter of our horses’ hooves. Ellyn rode in silence, seemingly lost in her own thoughts, and I was grateful for that, no matter the cause. Likely the bandits had been some solitary group, but I could not help fearing that they were part of some larger gathering of outlaws that might, in time, miss their felonious brethren and come seeking them. Were that the case, we’d have little chance. The forest was a lonely place, and in these troubled times there were no patrols or caravans abroad to offer us shelter. Indeed, save things had greatly changed since last I traveled these parts, there was no major habitation until the woods ended and the Highlands began. There, where also the Great Road terminated, was a town of sorts, a meeting place for merchants and peddlers where Highlanders would come in to trade with the foresters and the caravans come out from the Bright Kingdom’s heartland. It was my reluctant intention to halt there, for before I ventured back into my homeland, I’d glean news of events—who allied with whom, which clans fought. It was a chancy undertaking—there might well be folk who knew me and would carry word back to my father—but I could think of no other course save to go blind into the Highlands.

  I mused on all this even as I watched the forest, and the moon faded into a dull grey sky that slowly brightened as dawn came knocking. Birds began to sing, and from amongst the trees came the sounds of wakened animals. A plump rabbit crossed our path, halted a moment to stare at us, then lolloped away. A stag came out from the timber, antlers high as he tested the air. He caught our scent and belled a warning that brought a harem of seven does trotting swift across the road. Then the first rays of the sun lofted above the trees and I felt the promise of warmth. The grey faded like a curtain drawn back to reveal the pristine blue behind, and a sudden breeze skirled through the leaves, setting them all to rustling in harmony with the swelling bird-song. I could not help smiling, for a new day dawned and we had survived ambush and kidnap, and it seemed that perhaps the gods favored us now.

  From ahead, I heard the sound of water tumbling over rocks, and in a while we came to a bridge that spanned a fast-flowing river. It was an arch of dark blue stone, walled on either side and supported by three buttresses, rising above the old ford. I decided to halt and make us some breakfast.

  We went down to the water’s edge and I built a small f
ire. Ellyn knelt, vigorously bathing her face and hands, as if she’d wash away the blood I’d spilled. I set a pot to boiling and brought food from our supplies, and soon had a decent enough meal readying.

  Ellyn returned from her ablutions and settled on the shingled bench beside the fire. She stared moodily at the flames, ignoring me, then took up a pebble and flung it. Abruptly, she turned toward me and began to speak.

  “Shall it all be like that, like last night?”

  I shrugged, not knowing the answer she wanted to hear.

  “Shall there be more killing?”

  “Likely. These are … troubled times. What law your father imposed is gone.”

  “With his death?”

  “With the war. That took the soldiers away, so the out-lands grow more lawless than ever.”

  “Soldiers kept the law?”

  “Who else? Andur’s men patrolled these roads and made them safe.”

  “Men like you?”

  I shrugged again. “I suppose so.”

  “But what if …” She hesitated, frowning. “What if Highlanders came a-raiding?”

  “Men like me would fight them.”

  “Even your own kin?”

  “Yes. I swore allegiance to Andur, to Chaldor. So even were it my own kin I’d fight them.”

  “Because you gave your word?”

  “Yes.”

  She stared at me, and her eyes seemed to penetrate me, looking deep inside me, as if she plumbed the depths of my soul and judged me. She seemed in that moment no spoiled child but ageless and timeless as the stone that flanked the river. I felt a sudden need to explain.

  “I am outcast from my clan—by my father’s word. I have no family, no kin. I return to the Highlands on pain of death. Andur gave me a home, a place … respect … and I swore to serve him. I serve him now.”

  “By going back to the Highlands?”

  I grinned, though I felt not much amused, and took a stick from the fire. “What do you know of the Highlands? Of the lands beyond Chaldor’s valley?”

  She shrugged. “Not much.”

  “Look.” I blew the flames from the stick and turned around, using a smooth boulder for parchment. “This is the Durrakym, this Chaldor.” I marked the river and ringed the valley in smoking charcoal. “We are here; beyond are the Highlands, then the Styge here. We ride north, into the lands of the clans.” I marked the boundaries.

  The lines I drew were tenuous as the real boundaries between the clans, and the lands of my own were perilously close to where we headed, but beyond lay the Barrens, and I thought that if we could only reach that wasteland we must surely be safe until that day Ryadne had promised dawned.

  Ellyn said, “Why not seek my grandfather? Surely he’d offer us sanctuary with the Dur.”

  “Which Talan would doubtless guess, and send hunters.” I shook my head. “It’s as I’ve told you—best we leave no trail at all.”

  “Then where do we go?”

  “To the end of the road. There’s a town there; it’s called Cu-na’Lhair. It’s a barter town, where folk trade.”

  “I thought,” she said, “that we were avoiding inhabited places.”

  “We were,” I replied, “but we shall need food by then. I’d not take the time to hunt, so we shall need to replenish our supplies and buy ourselves winter gear.”

  She looked a question at me and I could not help but chuckle.

  “Did you think this was some summer outing? The summer ages and the Highlands are cold, and who knows where we shall be when the snows come.”

  “The war might be ended by then.”

  “Yes.” I nodded, my laughter abruptly quelled. “By Talan, who’ll then have all the time he needs to seek you out.”

  Almost, I regretted my harsh words as I saw her pretty face blanch, her lips tighten. “Then we are truly fugitives,” she said, and her voice was forlorn.

  I nodded again.

  “But you’d chance this—what was it … Cu-na’Lhair? What if I’m recognized there? What if you’re recognized?”

  “Likely your face is not known there,” I said. “And mine hasn’t been seen in a long time, so perhaps I can escape unknown. Anyway, we shall need supplies, so we must take the chance.”

  “But after …” She studied my charcoal map. “We must still enter the Highlands.”

  “All well,” I said, “well cross them unnoticed.”

  “To where?”

  “The Barrens, if we must.”

  She swallowed noisily. “There are savages in the Barrens, no? And worse things in the Styge?”

  I said, “I don’t know. I’ve never been there.”

  “But you’ve heard the stories.”

  “Yes, but I can’t think of any safer place.”

  “You’re my guardian,” she said, and I could not decide whether she spoke in confidence or accusation, for she turned away then and left me to pour our tea and set out our breakfast.

  The forest ended on a wide, rocky ridge, the timber breaking against the foot like some vast dendroid sea. What few trees had succeeded in gaining a hold on the slope seemed like tidal pools, green against the grey-blue of the stone. The rimrock was bare, and from its long hogback we looked out across a grassy valley that stretched northward to the foothills of the Highlands. They shone all misty in the morning light, patterned with sunshine and cloud like a patchwork quilt, and I wondered if I caught the scent of heather on the wind. I suppose not, that it was only memory tricking my senses, but I could not help a pang of nostalgia. I halted and looked awhile, then brought my gaze down to the center of the valley, where Cu-na’Lhair stood.

  The road continued on down the ridge’s farther side and ended at the town, which stood beside a broad river that ran away north and east into the hazy distance. It was larger than I remembered, walled with native stone and wood from the forest, its single gate opening on the road and a short jetty thrusting a little way into the river. Smoke rose lazy in the morning air and I could see folk moving about the gate, boats moored along the jetty. I glanced at Ellyn, but before I could warn her to maintain her disguise, she tugged her feathered cap lower on her forehead and assumed a belligerent expression. I thought that she would do and wondered about myself. I had gained height and weight since I left this land, and my beard was thickened, patched in places with grey. I might go unrecognized; or not, but Cu-na’Lhair was traditionally peaceful, and I trusted the sheriff and his men still kept discipline within the walls. Was I recognized, then I thought any threat must come after we left—and I could think of nowhere else to go. So I heeled my bay onto the downslope, Ellyn following.

  I waved her alongside and said, “We shall be questioned here, and likely about the war. Do you stay silent. Please?”

  “You ask me with a pretty please? No orders?” She stared at me, as if she could not believe I requested her silence.

  I said, “Yes, I ask you. Please.”

  She smiled a little and ducked her head in agreement.

  We crossed the stone bridge that led to the gate and halted in the shadow of the great portal as armed men blocked our way. There were five of them, bearing swords and bucklers, javelins in their hands. Their leader faced me, seeming neither hostile or friendly, but mostly curious. I thought he did not know me, and surely I did not know him.

  “Hail, strangers. Where are you from?” His eyes scanned us with professional interest.

  “Chaldor,” I said.

  “Few have come from the Bright Kingdom these past weeks.” He moved a little aside, studying our mounts and our captured horses. I saw that his men shifted to either side, where they might take us from our saddles with four swift throws. “What news of the war?”

  “Poor news,” I replied. “You know that Andur took his army across the Durrakym?”

  He nodded. “And took that bastard Talan’s head, I hope.”

  “No.” I shook my head. “Andur’s slain, and Talan comes across the river.”

  “To Chorym?�
�� His eyes were a very bright blue and they widened as he spoke. “How fares the queen?”

  “She readies for siege.”

  “Chorym must be a hard place to take.”

  “Surely; but Talan employs a Vachyn sorcerer.”

  He mouthed a foul curse. “May all the gods damn the Vachyn.”

  I said, fervently, “Amen to that.”

  “And what brings you here? You’ve a soldierly look about you. Why are you not on Chorym’s walls?”

  “I lost my hire when Andur died. I took a wound”—I patted my knee—“and I’ve no wish to face Vachyn magic again.” That at least was the truth. “So I took my pay and rode away.”

  “To come home? You’re a Highlander, no?”

  I shrugged. “A hire-sword now. Are there clansmen here?”

  “Some.” He accepted my dissembling, which was not so unusual in this town, and turned his attention to Ellyn. “And who’s this?”

  “My son,” I lied. “He’s never seen the Highlands.”

  “And these horses?”

  “Bandits attacked us and I slew them. I’d trade their horses for food and winter gear.”

  He grunted as if this were no unusual announcement. “The forest’s thick with brigands these days. Enter and be welcome.”

  I smiled my thanks. “Can you recommend an inn? And a trustworthy horse dealer?”

  “The Lonely Traveler. It’s five streets down and leftward; ask there for directions to Jerym Connach. He’ll give you a fair price.”

  I thanked him and he stood aside, waving us through. As we rode slowly up the wide street Ellyn asked me, “Should you not have given him small coin for that information?”

  I grinned. “That’s not the way here. Besides, he likely receives some stipend from the inn and the horse dealer both. But thank you for staying silent.”