Duty (Book 2) (4 page)

Rafael leaned down and put his face close to his pupil’s. “In fact, I bet if one were to look around and dig a bit, he might find a spearhead or even a link of armor buried here and there.”

Gen needed no further encouragement, and with an eye to the ground began trudging about searching for a likely spot to dig.

“Don’t go too far!” Rafael warned. “I’ll need help carrying this wood . . . in a while.”

The sounds of chopping faded as Gen walked about, kicking up leaves and pulling up rocks. Ahead of him he saw a hill with a thick copse at the base. In his mind’s eye, he imagined an elven archer in its darkness, waiting for a hapless Uyumaak to wander by. And it was there that he started to dig. The soil was dark, cold, and moist under his hands, but after several minutes he found nothing more than bugs and small rocks.

Disappointed, he turned to leave when he found he could no longer move. Casting his eyes about frantically, he saw a figure, only partially visible in outlines created by the shadows between the light streaking through the branches. It was a woman, tall and slender, though her features were lost in shadow.

“It is time for your next lesson,” she said. “When Trys is unveiled, you will be filled with power. You must learn how it can be manipulated and used. Trys is, primarily, the power to create and transmute. While you cannot do it yet, you will in time. Take this dirt, for example. It can easily be changed into stone by changing certain properties of it. Imagine the armies of the Ha’Ulrich and the Chalaine marching proudly across a muddy field when suddenly they are trapped, their feet and their horses’ hooves imprisoned in stone!”

Gen trembled. “But why should I wish to hurt the Blessed One or the Chalaine? They are to save Ki’Hal. That is what Pureman Millerhsim says.”

“Remember you nothing of what I say? The time is too short to repeat the lessons! Through treachery this world’s God was stripped of his power! The Chalaine and the Ha’Ulrich are a farce, a deception played by those who crave control. My master will free the races of this world from their bondage of ignorance and fantasy!

“While the Ki’Hal lauds the Ha’Ulrich and his wench, you know the truth! It will not be easy, but you must learn all you can. You must destroy the Chalaine before the Millim Eri can again set their hand upon the world to turn it here and there as they wish! You are chosen for leadership, for power, and a throne! While now you will be reviled, persecuted, and hunted, when the truth is known, you will be worshiped! Do you understand?”

“Yes,” Gen replied, confused but cowed by the woman’s vehemence, agreeing merely to silence her and speed her departure.

“Good. Open your mind. My master sends another lesson. He bids me tell you that dirt to stone is a simple beginning. There is so much more!”

The method required to do the spell was burned forcefully into his memory. When the instruction finished, his head hurt.

“Tell no one of this!” the woman continued. “You must remain a secret to all until the time is ripe, for no one will understand. They are all deceived, save you!”

The personage faded, and Gen fell to the ground, weak and exhausted. How could the whole world have been deceived? They chanted praises to the Chalaine and the Ha’Ulrich every day. Were they really part of some plot by unknown powers? Had they been tricked too? Why was he chosen?

As he lay thinking, a robin fluttered down and landed beside him. Gen marveled that it would come so close to him, but he shrank back in fear as it transformed into a being that awed him to behold. The towering figure had ears and a face like the drawings Gen had seen of elves, but rather than being thin and delicate, he was strong and tall, taller than the tallest man Gen had ever seen. White hair hung loosely down his back, and his skin was so pale that it seemed that light came from it. He wore a green cloak open to reveal a cream robe cinched with a belt that was fashioned from woven bark. Despite his fear, Gen could not help but think that he was majestic and beautiful.

The Being reached down and touched him, and everything went black. The next thing he knew, he was helping Rafael carry wood back to the house, disappointed that he had found no artifact of the great battle or fortress of Aumat. Everything that had happened with the apparition was forgotten, as was the being that came after.

Gen opened his eyes. Ethris lifted his hands from Gen’s head and sat down heavily upon the chair at the foot of the bed.

“It is extraordinary! They still live!”

“Who?” Gen asked, still worried that Ethris might end his life.

“The Millim Eri, what people commonly think of as Ministrants. They were the elf masters and servants of the Gods in ancient times. Their lore has long been clouded. They all but disappeared somewhere during the First Mikkikian War, just before the rise of the human Mages. The elves refused to speak of them, and few humans know they existed at all, at least with that name. But I have seen one now, albeit by proxy.”

“What do they want with me?” Gen asked, mind racing.

“Isn’t it obvious? They still have a hand in the affairs of Ki’Hal, which I count as a great blessing. You are the Ilch, Gen, but in their wisdom they hid the persuasions and teachings of Mikkik, your creator, from you. Rather than grow into the evil instrument of Mikkik, you have grown to be one of his fiercest enemies. Ha!”

Ethris stood again, babbling in uncharacteristic excitement. “It is so perfect, so clever! Turn the enemy’s weapon against him!”

“You will not kill me, then?”

“Eldaloth help me, no! I will not interfere with what the Millim Eri have done. In fact, I shall do my best to push it along beyond what they have accomplished.”

Ethris pointed his Staff absentmindedly toward the table where new clothes, boots, and a sword had been set out in anticipation of Gen’s awakening. Gen rose and began to dress.

“You see, Gen, Chertanne has had training in how to use Trysmagic since he was a boy so that in the day he comes into his power, he will be ready to use it in Eldaloth’s cause. Mikkik provided you with the same training, probably better, hoping that you could use it in his, but it is lost to you.

“While I cannot practice Trysmagic, I can teach you the principles of it and point you to tome after tome of knowledge concerning it. You have little time to learn, but if you don’t, you shall have no defense against Chertanne, for rest assured that he has not forgotten the shaming you gave him.”

“Ethris,” Gen said, “during my struggle with the poison, Mikkik told me that there were many that would take my place. Will it really matter on which side I fall?”

“Mikkik is a liar, Gen. Your defection is a deep blow to him and his purposes. You are a unique creature—if you’ll forgive the appellation—and not easily replaceable. If we can keep Chertanne interested in something other than himself for long enough, then there will be two powerful Mages to fight evil instead of one.

“That there are many other powerful ones who have been deceived and who serve him, you know well, as do I. But he created you to be his servant, and a powerful one, when the time comes. The Millim Eri have seen to it that you serve a different cause.”

Gen picked up the black shirt of his uniform, noticing the two small circles representing the moons Myn and Duam pinned on the collar opposite the usual sword-Trys pin on the other.

“What is this?” Gen asked.

“We were named Defenders of the Faith during our unconscious convalescence.” Gen saw the same pins on Ethris’s robe. “The sword, Gen, is a gift from the First Mother as a reward for your bravery. The scabbard is new, but the blade is old and has magical properties. To protect Mirelle from undue protest and argument, I will tell you no more of it other than to say many would object to you carrying it.”

Ethris stepped forward, and placed his hands on Gen’s shoulders, forcing him to look into his eyes. “I hope you understand that what we have discussed here goes to no one else. No one! If anyone got wind of who you really were, no amount of persuasion on my part would keep you from certain and immediate death. And while I can see a wise hand in what the Millim Eri have accomplished, there is still danger. Prophecy has outlined your destiny, and Mikkik may yet try to bend you to his purpose. We shall see if what the Millim Eri have done can rewrite your fate.”

Gen understood, though he still couldn’t see how he could be the Ilch, the Destroyer, the Slayer. He doubted he would ever fully believe it.

“Now we should go,” Ethris said. “The betrothal should have ended by now. If you are like I was when I emerged from sleep, you are strong but starving. You can get something to eat at the celebration. Your presence will lift the spirits of several who have missed you, especially Fenna. I hear the girl barely left your side.”

Gen smiled for the first time in a long time. He knew Fenna had feelings for him, but his mourning for Regina had kept him from returning any affection. To discover that she had watched over him touched his heart unexpectedly, and for once, the feeling didn’t disappear into an empty void. That emptiness seemed gone, and he hoped his control hadn’t left with it.

Ethris opened the door and led Gen up the steps. Gen felt the air cool as they ascended to the main floor. As they walked out into the brisk evening in the courtyard he noticed that the trees had cast off most of their foliage.

“How long have I been asleep?” Gen asked.

“Almost three weeks. I awakened only a couple of days before you did.”

“The demon struck you, then?”

“Yes. I’ve quite the scar to show for it. Of course, a scar is nothing new to you, is it? There is much more I need to inquire of you, but our meetings must be few and in secret.”

The sound of a celebration on the castle grounds came from the courtyard in front of the Great Hall, but Ethris led him down a different path, a long way through gardens and guard stations that kept them from the crowds. The few soldiers they did see saluted them smartly, and after they passed, the soldiers whispered excitedly to one another.

“We seem to be inspiring a lot of chatter,” Gen observed. He was surprised by Ethris’s hearty laugh.

“Ah, Gen. You simply have no idea.”

Gen shrugged off the odd comment as they entered the castle through a side gate and crossed the lawn to the kitchens. A lantern hung over a stone bench next to the door, and Ethris signaled for him to sit on it. After entering the kitchen for a few moments, he returned with a plate full of food—bread, venison, and sliced apple—and a mug of cider.

“Enjoy the meal, Gen. Captain Tolbrook has taken over your duties in your absence. If you want to relieve him when you are finished, you can, though I’m sure no one would blame you if you simply wanted to enjoy the evening. I will be along later. There are some new preparations I must make, and I will talk with you again by and by.”

Gen dove into the food before Ethris could even turn to leave, each bite tasting better than he could imagine. Before long, the plate was empty and the mug drained, and he set his plate aside and relaxed for a few moments to gather his thoughts and enjoy the pleasant feeling of being full.

Realizing he would see Fenna, he went to his rooms beneath the Chalaine’s tower to retrieve something he had been meaning to give her for some time. Some of the servants and guards saw him as he passed, and, as before, his presence inspired a great deal of chatter and excited whispering.

As he returned to the lawns outside the kitchen, several children raced out of the open door and chased each other around the yard. By their fine dress—crumpled, untucked, and untied though it was—Gen could tell they were noble born, no doubt escaping tedious formalities in search of some fun. They took no notice of him for a moment as he stood and watched them, but soon, a girl, whom Gen reckoned no older that eight, stopped and pointed.

“Look!” she whispered surreptitiously. “It is one of the Dark Guard!”

“Leave him alone, Jelenna!” one of the older boys said. “He’s probably on important business.”

“No, he’s not!” Jelenna returned petulantly. “He’s just standing around.”

She skipped over and stood staring at Gen, hands on hips and face set. This dark-haired, dark-eyed girl would be a proud and beautiful lady someday. She was certainly fearless. Gen stared back at her, amused at her bravado. Suddenly her eyes and mouth went wide and she gasped.

“Ian! It’s that one we heard about in Church! The scarred one with the dead face!”

Before he knew it, Gen found himself surrounded by seven gawking children.

“What’s your name?” Gen asked the girl, feeling a bit uncomfortable with a gaggle of children staring at him as if he were a statue.

“I am Miss Jelenna Magravaine,” she replied with a perfectly executed curtsy, “daughter of Regent Julim and Lady Mergem Magravaine.”

“My name is Gen.”

“I know!” she said. “Is your face really dead?”

“No,” Gen said. “Watch.” He made several silly faces, ending in a scary one that made the kids cower in surprise, all save Jelenna.

“Then why do people say your face is dead?” she pressed.

“Well, Jelenna, does your mommy. . .”

“Her name is Lady Mergem Magravaine!”

“Forgive me. Does the Lady Mergem Magravaine let you giggle in Church?”

“No.”

“Well, I’m not permitted make faces when I’m about the Chalaine’s secret business.” Gen gave them a furtive wink, and they all nodded in understanding.

“Is she pretty?” a boy with grass stained pants asked, feeling a little more brave.

“I suppose so,” Gen replied, “though no man is allowed to see her, so I don’t know for sure. I’m not really supposed to talk about it, but I’ll tell you a little secret.” Gen leaned down and motioned the children in close. “I hear she has a big nose,” he whispered.

“Un-uh!” Jelenna protested. The other children giggled. “You were just joking, weren’t you?”

“Yes, Jelenna,” Gen chuckled. “But I wonder if you might do me a favor.”

“What?”

“I have to go on duty soon, which is a secret. But I want to see someone first. Do you know Miss Fenna Fairedale?”

“Yes,” Jelenna replied.

“Could you tell her that one of the Dark Guard needs to see her and then bring her to me? Don’t tell her my name, though. It’s a secret surprise.”

“Okay!” she agreed, bounding off into the kitchen. Gen shooed the other children off and entered the kitchen to return the plate and mug he had left on the bench. The first cook to see him was Marna, who had greeted him so enthusiastically his first day at the castle. She dropped a wooden bowl she was carrying and stared at him with much the same look Jelenna had given him. Then she charged, arms outstretched. Gen, hands full, couldn’t defend himself from another powdery hug. When she pulled away, she was smiling, tears running down here face.

“Eldaloth be praised, Gen,” she said, wiping her eyes. “We thought ya lost there for a bit. We prayed for ya, the forehead to the ground kinda prayin’, that you’d be spared. Does my heart good to see you. But look! I’ve done it again!”

“Thank you Marna,” Gen said, smiling as she swatted at the flower on his uniform, adding as much as she subtracted. “And it is good to see you. The food was more delicious than anything I can remember.”

“Do you want some more? I’d give you the best right off the spit! Or will you be going in? What a celebration that will be!”

“I will go in shortly. Where do you want these?” Gen held up his plate and mug.

“I’ll take those,” she said, snatching them from his hand. “I’ll take them home and put them on my mantle. The plate, mug, and fork used by Gen during his first meal after the demon attack! I’ll be famous.”

She turned to find somewhere to put them and the others in the kitchen started haggling with her for the individual pieces. Gen left as her fellow cooks tossed offers of money for the items. Exhaling nervously, he alternately sat on the bench and paced around the grass, finding it difficult to settle himself.

And she came, Jelenna dragging her by the hand. Gen realized he hadn’t paid attention to how beautiful she was, and now, in the light of the lantern, dressed in a blue gown, brown hair pulled away from her face, she was as precious a jewel as Gen had ever seen. Green eyes led the change in her expression from sadness to joy, and she was in his arms laughing and crying so quickly that Gen could scarce take it in. After several long moments, she pulled away, wiping her eyes and straightening her gown.

“I’m sorry,” she apologized. “This is most unseemly.”

Gen took her hand and kissed it, motioning for her to sit with him. Fenna put her hands in her lap and looked at them, and Gen, sensing her nervousness, spoke first.

“Fenna,” Gen began, fumbling for what to say, “I was told that you watched over me as I fought the poison for so many days. I want you to know that I am in your debt and that your devotion will not be forgotten.”

She smiled and turned away embarrassed. “It was nothing.”

“It certainly was something! Please accept my gratitude.”

She nodded and silence reigned for several moments, save for the children playing and the banging of pots and pans.

Fenna finally spoke up. “Gen, the Chalaine told me about Regina. I am so sorry. It wasn’t your fault. You did everything to save her.”

It was Gen’s turn to look away. Memories of Regina’s death and his inability to save her ran across his mind afresh, threatening the new-found happiness he had felt since awakening. But Fenna was there, putting her arm around him and leaning her head on his shoulder. Her warmth drove away the dark thoughts, and he sat enjoying her company for many minutes.

“Fenna,” he said, rising, “As much as I would love to have you to myself all evening, I think it is time I returned and resumed my duty after such a long absence. Did the betrothal go well?”

“Compared to the last one, I’d say yes,” Fenna grinned. “But you should go. There are many who are anxious for your return. Shall I have the Chamberlain give you a grand entrance?”

“No!” Gen objected. “I don’t like attention. I’ll just slip in quietly and relieve Captain Tolbrook.”

“Have it your way,” she acquiesced. “But I thought bards liked the attention.”

“She saw a lot of my life, then?”

“Not that she would tell,” Fenna answered. “But I think we’d both like to hear you sing again.”

Gen felt a tap on his arm. “You can sing?” Jelenna asked, appearing from behind a nearby bush where she had been spying on the couple.

“I used to sing,” he answered, “but it’s been a long time. Not much time for it now that I have my secret duties and all.”

“Well,” Jelenna said, sitting on the bench next to Fenna. “You’ve got time now, don’t you? Sing me something since mommy, um, the Lady Magravaine, probably won’t sing to me tonight.”

Gen hesitated. He hadn’t had it in his heart to sing anything for so long that it felt like any attempt would be starting from the beginning.

“Yes, Gen,” Fenna goaded, “sing us something! My mommy, I mean the Lady Fairedale, hardly sings to me at all anymore.”

Fenna’s eyes were playful, as Gen remembered Regina’s to be.

“All right, then. Just one little song, and then I have to go. I’m a bit rusty though, so don’t expect much more than caterwauling.”

Gen crouched down and took Jelenna by the hand.

Old man winter, quiet and bitter,

Cradled a storm in frostbitten hands,

And with a breath from his icy lips

Blew it forth on the land.

With thick clouds and swirling snow it came;

With biting wind and ice it blew,

Old man winter enshrouding in white,

All that the summer sun knew.

But on some forgotten hilltop,

Struggling in a deepening drift,

An untimely crimson rose broke forth,

Blooming winter’s springtime gift.

And old man winter, quiet with wonder,

Wept at the rose as the storm retreated,

For even the iciest heart can thaw,

When by beauty it is defeated.

Jelenna and Fenna clapped, praising him warmly. Feeling embarrassed, Gen stood.

“I really should be going, now, but,” he reached into his coat pocket and retrieved Fenna’s colors, “I am excessively late in returning this to you. I hope this is a special enough occasion.”

Fenna looked on the verge of tears again as she took it from his hand. “It is.”

“I thank you again. I look forward to talking with you soon.”

“And I with you,” Fenna returned. “The Chalaine is sitting at the table next to Chertanne, as usual. Tolbrook is to the left of the dais near the kitchen door. You should find him easily. I will come in before too long, but I wish to stay here for a while.”

Gen bowed to her and went in search of Tolbrook, finding him watching from a shadowy recess where Fenna told him he would be. Owing to the loud celebration, he managed to relieve Tolbrook quietly and unnoticed despite the Captain’s shock at seeing him. Gen settled in and took account of his surroundings.

In comparison to the feast held when the Blessed One first arrived, the one celebrating the betrothal was sparsely attended. Only high-ranking nobles and aristocrats had been permitted entry. A cadre of religious men sat against the wall, Prelate Obelard among them, displaying disdain at the revelry around them. The Pontiff was at one end of the head table, and across from him was an empty seat normally reserved for Ethris.