Analise sat in silence staring at the portrait of a proud man while her mother wept and raged in turn. She couldn’t seem to think... couldn’t even feel anything.
How very sad. Your father is dead and with him your future, yet not one tear do you shed for him.
She took her eyes from her father’s portrait and watched her mother in silence. Lady Anietta was not a strong woman. That was perhaps a little unkind of her, Analise admitted privately, but there were few, if any, who would dispute it.
What happens now, she wondered and shifted uncomfortably as thoughts of her unwanted marriage surfaced. She did not want to marry, and she certainly would not choose Llewyd if she did, but with father gone she had little choice. She must marry, and soon—it was her duty. Her eyes prickled.
How could you leave me?
They had argued many times about choosing a consort, but she knew that deep down he would never have forced her to marry Llewyd. Her father had loved her too much to push her into a loveless match, but now her duty was clear and weighing heavily upon her shoulders. What was she going to do?
“How did he die?” Analise asked the captain in her coldest voice.
Ballard had failed in his duty to protect his lord. For that failure he deserved harsh words and more. If she had not known the anguish his failure was costing him, she might have ordered his expulsion from her father’s... from her lands, but she did know. Ballard had been senior captain longer than she had been alive. He would have taken her father’s place in death without hesitation if he could.
He could not.
“We...” Ballard’s voice broke for a moment. “Lord Garth and I were riding at the head of the men. We were a day out from Chambry and looking forward to setting camp for the night. We spoke about his hopes for…” his right fist whitened upon his sword hilt. “…for your marriage, my lady, and about the war in the north. We were rounding the bend in the trail when an arrow hit lord Garth. He fell at once. He was dead before he landed, my lady. I swear he knew nothing of it.”
“Ohhhh!” Lady Anietta said bursting into tears again. “My poor Garth, poor, poor Garth!”
Analise looked coldly on. “The brigands, Captain, tell me of the brigands.”
“They had chosen to camp where we were heading for the night. We always camp at the clearing near the river upon our return, my lady.”
“I know it. It is the best place to stop for the night—the logical place. Looking back it was a foolish decision.”
Anietta gasped. “Analise! He was your father! How can you be so cold at a time like this?”
“What better time? I seem cold because you are not. Someone must be. Someone must make the decisions. Will it be you, mother?”
Anietta’s lips trembled as she tried to think of a command to give the Captain. Analise took pity on her and tried to take the matter out of her hands.
“Do not worry, mother. I will handle everything. Perhaps you should retire now.”
“No, I must think what to do. I am Lady of Chaidren Ridge. I must decide what is to be done. Ohhhh…” Anietta said wringing her hands. “What would your father do?”
Analise opened her mouth to tell her mother that Lord Garth would order the brigands hunted and slain, but all thoughts of her father’s murderers were suddenly blown out of her head by what Anietta said next.
“I must petition the King. I will ask for his aid. Gylaren is a kind man—a just man. He will help us.”
“What need?” Analise protested. “They are brigands, mother, not invaders. Our family has held these lands for centuries without help from outsiders. We give aid; we do not ask it of others!”
Captain Ballard agreed. “We don’t need the King to do our duty, my lady. Chaidren holds and protects this land. Let me ride, now, today, and I will hunt them down and put them to the sword!”
“Be not so hasty, Captain,” Analise said quickly.
“Yes,” Anietta agreed. “You must stay here to protect us. I will ask the King to send his new army.”
Analise rolled her eyes. Gylaren would not do that. He couldn’t! The Hasians were the real threat. Lord Jihan’s army had to contain them in the north while Gylaren rallied the lords at Devarr. Her father had known it, just as she did. He had been finalising his plans to join the King when news of the raid on their holdings reached him and he was slain.
“That was not my thought,” Analise said smoothly before the Captain could answer. “You know the King cannot send his aid while the Hasians remain a threat. We must do our duty as father would want us to,” she said with calculation and watched Anietta crumple into tears again. Analise rose to her feet and guided her mother out the door where her ladies were waiting for her. “There, mother. I will take care of everything.”
“But… I must make decisions… and your father always said…”
“The Captain can arrange everything, mother. He knows what to do.”
Anietta nodded still looking bewildered and lost. Her red puffy eyes flitted about looking for something to do before coming to rest upon her daughter again. “Tell him to send a rider to lord Llewyd. The wedding must be brought forward.”
Analise’s lips tightened. “He will arrange everything,” she soothed and left her mother in the capable hands of her ladies.
She closed the door on the quietly whispered solicitations of Anietta’s ladies and pressed her back to it. The wooden carvings dug into her shoulder blades. They were comforting. Hard and solid and unyielding—just as she had to be now.
“Assemble the men,” Analise said in a hard voice, reminiscent of her father’s. “Full weapons and armour. Enough provisions for a tenday in the field. We’ll leave five hundred here to protect mother. I will see the murderers hang with my own eyes before this tenday is done.”
Ballard’s jaw dropped open to protest. “My lady—”
“You would dishonour us by asking the King to intervene?”
“Of course not, lady!” He glared. “But you cannot ride with us. It’s not right, and it’s dangerous besides.”
“Let me be perfectly plain, Captain. I am not my mother. I will lead this hunt. With you or without you, I will lead it. You have served my father well; it would be a shame to dismiss you after all these years.”
Ballard’s eyes blazed as the threat went home. “I will resign my place before I will let you lead, lady.”
“If that is your decision, Captain, so be it, but you should think hard before making that choice. I will still ride, and further more, I will have Ernan detain you until my return. Do not think to hunt the murderers without me. I want to see them dead, not hear them dead.”
Analise watched Ballard cast about helplessly for an argument to sway her, but he was obviously at a loss. Under Captain Ernan would not like imprisoning him, but he would do it if she ordered it. From the look Ballard gave her, he knew it too.
“Very well. If you will not be turned from this, then you will not, but I cannot allow you to give orders to the men. You will order them through me.”
“If it satisfies your honour, then I agree.”
“My honour? It is my men’s lives I am thinking of!” Ballard roared and Analise staggered back in surprise.
She swallowed nervously, but she did not cringe. “As you will then. We leave in a candlemark.”
Ballard saluted her as he would have to his lord and marched stiffly out of the room.
Analise stared at the portrait of her father. “How could you do it? How could you leave me?” She whispered bitterly as her eyes prickled, but she dare not cry.
A candlemark later, she rode silently out of the gates at the head of two hundred whispering and uncomfortable guardsmen.
* * *
Lord Gydrid, third and youngest son of Gylaren King of Deva, rode before his men completely absorbed in what he was doing. His horse ambled along the road without need for the reins—a lucky thing, as Gydrid’s hands had no time for anything other than the book they were holding.
…a fallacy of those supposedly more knowledgeable. It has been proven by those whose word I hold beyond question, that this Earth is one of many, and that it is in fact not our true home at all. There is evidence, evidence of the most convincing nature, buried beneath the castle that proves my words. I have been there; I have seen the truths laid out before me.
Gydrid turned the brittle page. The book had been written centuries ago and supposedly smuggled off the sorcerer’s island. He had bought it at market for a mere five silvers when the prose caught his eye. It had seemed archaic in its usage, lending credence to the vendor’s claims of its great age. Niklaus had scoffed at his claims that it was written a mere century after the Founding, but he did admit it looked ancient enough to have come from that time. The binding was very fragile and its pages yellowed so badly that deciphering the script was at times a challenge bordering on the impossible. Unlike Niklaus, he enjoyed such challenges and bent to it with a will. It had been most rewarding.
My companions and I discovered the cache quite by accident one day while exploring the archives. I remember that day vividly, but not for what we found. My father was most vexed with me for ruining my best robe. The punishment he set was severe enough that I still shudder to think of it.
The cache of artefacts that my friends and I found had seemed of little consequence to our young eyes, but years later I realised just what they were and returned to that secret place. None had disturbed our find even though twenty and more years had passed. The locked chests were as we had first found them, and the strange mechanical devices were still standing in their ranks along the wall.
My lessons lead me to believe that these were the weapons of my forebears, but though they are marvellously ingenious in their construction, they are merely mechanical. Why mechanical? Why would those that had gone before us need such devices when they had magic to rival the God?
Gydrid blinked at such blasphemy openly expressed. The author’s forebears were of course the Founders, but though they be great sorcerers, nothing and no one rivalled the God’s power. Gydrid reached for his waterbag without looking. He drank two mouthfuls before replacing it back behind him all the while reading his book.
“M’lord?”
“Hmmm?” Gydrid said, turning the page.
“It is midday, m’lord.”
Gydrid looked about himself and found that indeed the captain was correct. The sun was directly overhead, but the day was cool. A pleasant breeze was blowing into his face from the west bringing with it the sweet smell of growing things. He listened and smiled at the birdsong twittering from the trees. Summer was almost here, but unlike recent years, the weather promised to be less harsh.
“M’lord?”
“Hmmm?”
“Shall I call a halt?” Captain Dorjan said, his brow raised in question.
“Oh yes! Yes indeed, we shall stop for a bite.” Gydrid looked ahead and noted the trees had fallen back from the road near the river. “We shall stop and replenish the waterbags at the bridge. No more than a candlemark, mind. Niklaus said to make haste.”
“Yes, m’lord.”
Dorjan slowed his horse to fall in next to his men, and Gydrid put away his book before taking up his reins again.
They dismounted at the bridge and led the horses down to the water’s edge for a drink. Gydrid re-filled his waterbag and took a drink from the river before the horses stirred it up. While his men sorted themselves out, and the baggage carts arrived, he entertained himself by examining the construction of the bridge. That it was old was beyond question. The stones and the ingenious method used to lock them in place shouted their antiquity to all who knew what to look for. He was such a one, but when he scrambled under the nearest arch, he found something unexpected as well as exciting. There was more to this bridge than first met the eye.
Everyone knew that the Founders built Fortress Meilan with magic. All the fortresses, though different in detail, were essentially the same in this regard. He knew every stone and joint that made his home. He could tell the bridge had been built the same way. As with Meilan, the stones were of granite, and he could see by their shape and fit that magic had been used too cut them. No mason had ever touched these stones. He doubted even a master could cut such fine dovetails as he was looking at here. The stones were locked together in a way not normally used for stone; in fact, this kind of thing reminded him strongly of a woodcrafter’s technique. Either way, it was a fine piece of craftsmanship. It had lasted over a thousand years and seemed set to last a thousand more.
The bridge was wide and long with four arches in all, two of which plunged deep into the river to support the enormous weight of the centre span. He wished he could have been present at its construction. What wonderful days they must have been when everything in the world was new and exciting. There would have been so much to learn about the world.
Gydrid sighed and scrambled back up the bank. The men were lounging at their ease and chatting about what they would see in Devarr. For many of them it was their first time so far from home. The older ones were smugly telling stories about other times they had journeyed to the capital, and of course the most interesting was the time their lord had been chosen as King. Gydrid was looking forward to seeing his father again, but the city itself would be no revelation. He had been there many times with Gylaren over the years. They had been regular visitors at one time, but that was before Pergann worsened and Morfran rose to power.
Gydrid climbed the gentle rise of the bridge and stopped to lean over the rail at its centre to watch the river. The current was fast and the water level high. He would have liked to follow where it led—all the way to Chulym and beyond to the sea. He was a good sailor. Well, he was a good sailor on the rivers at least. He never got sick, but he suspected a sea voyage might be somewhat different. Still, he would like to try it just once to see what it was like.
Gydrid watched a twig flow out of sight then turned back to his duty.
Back at his horse, he rummaged in his packs and found a dry biscuit. He added a wedge of cheese and another sip of water to wash it down. Such was his and his men’s meal. The horses were content to drink from the river and pull long grass from the verges of the road. Forage was plentiful and should remain so throughout the journey.
Captain Dorjan was making his rounds now. Where he past, the men hastily took a last mouthful of water before tying their packs closed and mounting up. Gydrid pulled himself back into the saddle and urged his horse onto the bridge to wait.
“Forward!” Dorjan called and the column moved to follow Gydrid at the walk.
A few candlemarks later Gydrid was again interrupted from the study of his book. Two of the scouts were riding back toward him at a ground consuming trot.
“Report,” Gydrid said, when they pulled up before him.
Ethan was senior scout, he answered. “We rode into town like you wanted, m’lord. We were sitting down for a bite to eat when we heard the news.”
“What news?”
“Lord Chaidren is dead—killed by brigands they say, m’lord. Elsa—that’s the maid behind the taps—said that Lord Garth and his men rode out after one of his farms got raided.”
“Sad news.” Gydrid frowned. “He will be missed.”
“There’s more, m’lord, please you.”
“Go on.”
“Lady Analise was very upset. She ordered her guardsmen to find the raiders and hang them.”
Analise was lord Garth’s only child. As such, she was his heir, but this was Deva not Japura. Women did not rule here. That meant Analise was the King’s ward until she be wed. That in turn made her family... in a round about way.
“Well, I cannot blame her for that. I would do the same.”
Ethan nodded. “Yes, m’lord, but she took to horse and rode out with them.”
“What?! Is she mad? Why would her captain allow that?”
“It might have something to do with her threat to dismiss him, m’lord,” Ethan said wryly.
Gydrid frowned. His duty to the King was clear, but his honour pulled him in another direction. Analise was now the King’s ward, and he was the King’s son. That meant…
Gydrid tuned to Dorjan. “What do you think?”
“She sounds headstrong, m’lord. She’ll drop herself in hot water.”
“Hmmm, yes. I think we must take time to deal with this.”
Dorjan looked pensive. “But what of the King?”
“My father the King will understand,” Gydrid said, hoping he was not lying.
The Hasian threat was an immediate one. That Julia was north and ready to confront them was comforting, but it did not allay the King’s concerns altogether. Gylaren needed his lords to assemble their forces at Devarr as soon as possible with the aim of contesting a Hasian incursion of the northern border, but Analise was family now.
“We shall deal with this as speedily as may be,” Gydrid said, making his decision sound firm. “I want the men in battle order. Triple the scouting parties. Have them ride in search of Lady Analise.”
“At once, m’lord!”
Gydrid nodded and put away his book. There would be time for study once this little matter was dealt with.
Captain Dorjan chose his scouts and sent them out in search of trouble. Gydrid led his men, in battle order now, toward Chaidren Ridge. Chaidren was a small keep compared to many, but its history was long and honourable. Analise’s family had ever been loyal to the throne. In times past, they had provided the King with guardsmen. More than one son of Chaidren had made a name for himself in the King’s service. At the crossroad, Gydrid led his men to the east without pause. Although he was now travelling away from Devarr and his duty to his father, he was light of heart. The day was beautiful with birdsong and the fragrance of wildflowers heavy in the air. The day had fulfilled the morning’s promise.
The village of Chambry quickly arrived, and Gydrid stopped to water the horses and ask for news. The scouts had not returned, and would not until they found Lady Analise. Dorjan had made it plain to them that time was of the essence. They were not to waste the candlemarks it would take to report failure.
Gydrid handed his reins to one of the men and looked around. Chambry was a small village; it consisted of perhaps half a hundred homes. The single inn, like the village, was small but well cared for. The homes had white painted shutters in good repair, and the thatched roofs looked tight. There were few people about, but those that he did see seemed friendly. Gydrid and his men were standing within a small paved square that served the village as its marketplace. The inn and its stable fronted the square on one side with the chapel opposite. No one had yet come to greet him, but perhaps the village was too small for a council. He was debating whether the innkeeper had news of Lady Analise or not, when the chapel caught his eye again. Maybe the village priest knew something. He left his men to deal with watering the horses, while he made his way to visit the priest.
The chapel was an old building. He could see that by the manner of its construction. The roof slates were thick and heavy, while its windows were small and narrow. They were more reminiscent of a castle’s arrow slits than a modern chapel’s casement. From his studies, Gydrid knew the Founders had met many challenges when they first settled Deva. Buildings of rough stone like this were built as refuges from the many dangers that had awaited them in the world.
A hush fell over him as he entered the chapel. The heavy wooden doors were wide letting in the light of the day, but the sun’s rays did not penetrate the gloom more than a few paces. Dozens of candles made up for the lack, and the air was redolent with the pleasant smell of hot tallow.
Gydrid peered into the gloom, and gradually his eyes accustomed themselves to the dim interior of the chapel. The place seemed empty. He stopped a short distance inside and regarded the chapel’s adornments. There were some fine pieces of woodcraft here. The centrepiece was a wooden carving of the God sitting upon the stump of a tree. Gathered about his feet were dozens of children. Gydrid could almost imagine he heard the God’s voice as he told the young ones a story. He reached out and stroked the silky smooth wood.
“Lovely is it not? We are very proud of it.”
Gydrid nodded. He had heard the priest approaching at his back. “Yes, good father. It speaks to me.”
“Hmmm.” The priest smiled. “Many have said the same. It is very old you know. Easily as old as the chapel itself.”
“Really? That is interesting. I judge the chapel dates to the Founding.”
“It does. I have some few writings penned by my predecessors intimating as much. It has been here through all that time.”
Gydrid pulled his attention reluctantly away from the carving and turned to the priest. “I am Gydrid of Meilan.”
The priest inclined his head in greeting. “Welcome, m’lord. I am Father Rolfe. How may I serve you, my lord?”
“I have heard the news of Lord Garth’s death. I would hear more if you no aught of it.”
“Sad news. Yes, we have heard of the lord’s death. I fear that I can shed no light on the circumstances, except for what Lady Analise herself has spoken of to me.”
“You have seen her then? That is good news. When did she pass, and whence was she going?”
“Three days ago, my lord. She stopped to water the horses and came here to pray a while. As for her destination, I know not, except that she headed south and east. She herself told me that she did not know where she was going. She means to run down her father’s murderer.”
Gydrid nodded. “I had heard that such was her intention. I mean to aid her in that, but first I must find her.”
“That is good of you, my lord. May the God smile on you and your men.”
Gydrid circled his heart and inclined his head in thanks for the blessing. “I must make haste if I am to overtake the lady. I thank you for the good wishes.” He took a last lingering look at the carvings then turned to rejoin his men.
Captain Dorjan had things well in hand. The horses had been watered and the men were topping off their waterbags. Gydrid thought to do the same, but was saved the necessity when Ethan mentioned that he had already performed that little chore.
“Did you learn of Lady Analise’s whereabouts, my lord?” Dorjan said as he rejoined him.
“Not precisely, no. She rode through here heading south and east three days back.”
“Three days? That is not good, my lord. The King will not be pleased with us if we arrive so late.”
Dorjan was right, but Gydrid could not leave knowing what he did. “Send Ethan and one other to the King with a message. Have him tell my father what we are about, and that we shall arrive as quickly as may be.”
“Yes, my lord,” Dorjan said and strode away to arrange Ethan’s departure.
Gydrid mounted his horse and edged toward the south exit of the square. Gylaren would understand when he heard the reason for his lateness. As the King’s ward, lady Analise deserved his protection. Who better than his son to provide it?
“At the walk… forward!” Gydrid ordered and urged his mount out of the square.
* * *