A Darkness Unleashed (Book 2) (27 page)

Jaerd sniffed.
Almost…

The second day passed little differently from the first, except for the waiting and pomp. The third day saw no change at all. The army moved more slowly than Boris’ detachment last autumn, but Jaerd knew that logistical complications multiplied faster than the number of men in an army. Cavalry horses only added to those problems, especially since fighting mounts could only scrub at the bare grass in the Wastes.

Jaerd counted himself lucky if their end of the column got moving before midmorning, though he knew the vanguard marched before dawn.
Almost five leagues of men, wagon, and horse take a while to get going. And if we’re lucky, we’ll camp close to where the front end camped last night.

Their progress, however, was not intolerable. The spring rains had not arrived with strength enough to turn the ground to mud, yet winter had passed enough for their water supplies to avoid freezing. Halfway through the fourth day, the green prairie grasses and trees gradually disappeared, replaced by the gray-brown switchgrass of the Wastes. Jaerd’s horse soon lost almost all desire to graze whenever they slowed.

With a thud of hooves, a messenger in blue with silver trim on his cloak rode up and handed Earl Boris a folded parchment. He pulled his horse into step with their unit and waited. Boris looked at the note, blinked, shrugged, and then pushed his black stallion closer to Maddi.

“Here,” he said, his voice flat. “It’s from the king…for you.”

Holding in a sputter of surprise, Jaerd studied at his brother’s girlfriend. Her pretty face coursed with anxiety, though he normally expected little emotion on her visage. He pressed his horse nearer.

After clearing her throat, Maddi took the letter, popped the blue wax seal, and read the note. Her eyes flitted over the page, allowing no more emotion to gather on her features, while Tallen edged closer, close, yet not quite looking over her shoulder.

She handed him the parchment. “Damn. This has to be Marten’s work.”

Tallen scanned the note and looked at Maddi. “But neither of us sensed him in the army as it went by.”

Maddi sighed. “There were far too many people to be certain.” She gestured at the others. “Let them read it.”

The note passed through Boris’ hands before it came to Jaerd. It was addressed to Lady Doctor Maddrena Conaleon.

His Majesty, King Arathan VII, Lord High Commander of this Host, does hereby request the presence of the honored Lady Doctor within his Royal van. His Majesty desires the healing he received on Midwinter night to aid against the rigors of the road.

Her friend, the Magus Tallen Westar, is both requested and required to join her at their most immediate convenience. Their escort will await.

Dread creeping into his heart, Jaerd handed the letter back. “You have to go. And we can’t go with you.”

Tallen shook his head. “It’s a trap by the Lord Doctor to get us there alone, away from your help. He could have us arrested or even murdered.”

Fireheart stamped as Tomas folded his arms. “I do not think so. If he wanted you dead it would have been done already.” He pursed his bearded lips at Dorias. “There could be a multitude of forces at work here.”

The Ravenhawke’s face took on his familiar raptor gaze, his eyes flashing at the messenger. He kept his voice low. “Your secret could easily have gotten out from the guards we took with us to scout the Gallond.” He ran one hand through the silver wings in his hair. “Promises to my paladin friend notwithstanding, any man might tell his king about such dire information. Certainly one soldier in our escort has been dutiful enough to report your outburst up his chain of command. The king will have heard of how you are…wanted by our enemy.”

Tallen sighed. “I’m sorry.”

Dorias patted the young man on the shoulder. “Anyone in your place might lose their composure for a moment. You kept it together out there when we needed you. That’s what counts. I doubt I’d be alive today.” His frown deepened. “Though we must talk more about the dangers of the way you used Psoul.”

Letting out his held breath, Jaerd leaned forward in his saddle. He squinted at Tallen and gave his brother a hard stare. “What exactly happened out there that you haven’t told me?”

The messenger cleared his throat. “If the Lady Doctor and Magus wish, additional baggage may be brought to the front. A new tent and furnishings will be provided by His Majesty.”

Jaerd examined the two silver stars on the man’s tunic.
Captain’s stars – that’s a pretty high rank for a run’n’fetch, and he’s in a hurry.
The handle of the man’s sword showed wear.
He’s a fighter. That’s pretty rare for a messenger, too.

Tallen and Maddi looked at each other, then at Boris.

“You will not want to keep His Majesty waiting,” Boris told them. “We can send messages back and forth.”

Tallen lifted one hand at Jaerd. “I’ll send something tonight to let you know what happens.”

A knot of worry built up in Jaerd’s stomach. Every time he had left Tallen’s side, greater dangers had found his brother further down the road. But his orders bound him, more so than most of the others present. His heart sank as he lifted his hand in an informal salute. “Best of luck, brother.”

Jaerd watched them ride off with the messenger, pulling out his father’s old spyglass at the end to catch a final glimpse.

Cawing as he perched, the raven swooped down from the sky to alight on Dorias’ shoulder. The wizard reached up to stroke the bird’s feathers. Dorias kept examining where Tallen and Maddi had disappeared beyond the soldiers ahead, even though an unfocused glaze covered them. “They will be lucky to make the front of the line before nightfall.” He whispered to the raven then tossed him back into the sky. The bird winged toward the front of the long column. “Merl will watch out for them.”

“What good can your pet bird do?” Jaerd grumbled.

“You might be surprised,” Gwelan Whitehand spoke up from a few horses away. “That bird has saved each of our lives more than once. Your brother’s included, if I’m not mistaken.”

Dorias pointed a blank stare toward the front of the army. “I can watch them, at least, through Merl’s eyes. And should anything become…complicated…” The wizard dropped his voice. “I can project a portion of my power through him. Not much, but perhaps enough to grant them aid should someone endanger them.”

Frustration playing with anger inside him, Jared gripped his saddle horn until it creaked. It would have to be enough.
For now.
We will see what happens when the battle comes.

“And if Marten harms either of them,” he whispered under his breath. “I’ll kill him myself.”

“Behold, a king who shall give us our great peace at last. May he rule in wisdom for decades to come.” – High Elder Donas Miedrul at the formal coronation of Arathan VII, 424 A.R.

“A
t least we’re not riding in horse crap anymore,” Maddi said to Tallen as she clung to her horse’s reins. She had never quite taken to riding, especially at high speeds. It jostled her about and set her stomach to fluttering. “I mean, that’s one good thing about walking into the dragon’s den, right?”

Tallen only shook his head. “I’d take the horse shit if it only meant we were still with Jaerd and the others.”

Maddi gave Tallen a soft smile. “At least we have each other.”

He reached out his hand and clasped hers, though they could only grasp fingers for a moment as they rode for the front of the line, close behind the messenger’s flying cloak.

For hours, they trotted past lines of men, horses, and supply wagons. Most of the soldiers kept good ranks, but in a few places they stretched out with several dozen yards between groups of men.

“Straighten those lines and close up those gaps!” their escort shouted out at several lesser officers.

As they neared the front, the professionalism of the Bluecloaks and the standing armies of the eastern nobles showed in the sharp formations and rhythmic steps. A few units had drummers who kept time for the ranks.

Most of the soldiers’ faces remained neutral, their focus on putting one foot in front of the other. However, many of them, especially those in the lesser trained companies, exuded a pervasive sense of fear. Maddi opened herself to her Talent and reached out to see their
psahnii
. It almost held a hint of sickness, results of weeks of marching and eating travel rations.
Sleeping outside every night at the end of winter doesn’t help.

“Do you sense him?” Tallen asked. “I cannot find his pattern.”

Maddi shook her head. “Who…oh…” She looked back at the marching soldiers, her concerns rising as she examined them from afar. “I was sensing them. Not all are healthy. That will not aid us in a fight.”

“Ah,” Tallen replied, a quizzical look on his face. “I could feel you tapping into your Talent. It is so strange, yet so similar to Psoul. I cannot explain it.” He looked behind them. “Perhaps this is what Tomas and Dorias are always on about.”

The deep horn that signaled the end of the day’s march sounded close by. The same call then echoed down the line. Maddi spied a dizzying patch of colors on a ridgeline up ahead. The king’s blue and silver banner hung limp in the absence of a stiff breeze. Figures scrambled to set up dozens of tents, each in the colors of the noble house residing within. Cast against the gray-brown sea of switchgrass, it almost took on a carnival look, like when the circuses had come to Dern when she was young.
Though none of them had such dangerous animals.

The Bluecloak messenger led them straight to the largest tent.

“Blue silk with silver dragons embroidered on it,” she snorted. “Who would have guessed? Your people are not very original.”

Shaking his head, Tallen dismounted with her. “We have a thing for order. Everything in its place. Everything clearly marked.” He shrugged. “It’s handy for a cook.”

Maddi pinched his side and he squirmed. “That leads to predictability and boredom,” she said.

He grabbed her wrist and held it firm so she could not pinch him again. “Yes. Well, we are about to meet the king of order, so a little predictability and boredom might just be what’s called for.”

Maddi gave him a smile and relented in her attack. “Yes, Milord.” She gave him an overdone curtsy. “As Milord wishes.”

The messenger cleared his throat. “If you would please, His Majesty will be waiting.”

Tallen turned, almost as if he were a soldier at attention.

Maddi drew a deep breath as thoughts of Lord Doctor Marten washed away any fun she was having at Tallen’s expense. Her giddy nerves bundled into a pit of fear in her stomach. She swallowed and followed Tallen inside.

Grim knights stood at the entrance to the tent and opened the flap. Inside, Maddi’s vision adjusted to the magical glowglobes. Their light revealed lush carpets and wide divans. A potted fichus tree stood in one corner. Half a dozen Bluecloaks gathered close around a map-strewn table, each with three stars on his tunic and two with red trim on their cloaks.

The old man Maddi recognized as the Lord Magister sat on a small chair in one corner, his flowing white beard stark against his multihued robe. Tallen and he exchanged a long look that ended with Tallen bowing his head in respect. The man returned the gesture.

Wizards…

A screen of ebony partitioned off half the tent, set with jade and lapis in the design of fish leaping from a forest pool.
That thing is worth half the city of Dern…in its prime!

Three more Bluecloaks emerged from behind the screen, escorting a pale old man in a white tabard. One of the escorts had the yellow trim of a healer on his cloak. Tallen went instantly to one knee and Maddi gracefully followed.

“Please, my dear, rise and come close.” The king’s voice sounded frail. “I have not seen you since Midwinter, and your healing was so effective that I danced for the first time in half a decade.” He chuckled. “I insist. Rise and come forward.”

She stood. Tallen remained on one knee, his head bowed. Maddi took two steps and the Bluecloaks surrounding the king moved to stop her.

“Now, now,” the king commanded. “Allow her to come close and grant me healing.”

One of the generals refused to step back. “Your Majesty, this is not wise. She is a foreign woman of questionable past who recently left the Doctor’s College in disgrace. I must insist that you let Doctor Stavath here try again, or perhaps the Lord Doctor.”

King Arathan chopped his hand through the air. “Enough, Raemus. I have heard my fill of your counsel for today.” He pointed at the doorway. “You are dismissed.”

General Raemus stalked out of the tent, but not without a harsh glare at Maddi and Tallen both.

The king cast his rheumy blue eyes over the remaining officers. “This woman is also the one that the people call Lifegiver, and I will not have her slandered without proof.” His gaze switched back to kindly in an instant. “Now, my dear, if you would be so kind…”

The remaining Bluecloaks moved back, the healer’s expression full of interest. Maddi reached out for the king’s waxy hand, almost shivering at its icy touch. She embraced her Talent, and the images of all the other lives nearby popped into her mind. She felt the reticence of the generals, the curiosity of the king, and the Bluecloak healer watching her with his own Talent. Maddi also perceived a pervading sense of concern from Tallen. His life force glowed like a cosmic white light. It comforted her and gave her a sense of peace.