Once We Were Kings (Young Adult Fantasy) (The Sojourner Saga) (10 page)

"But sir—"

"Not now!  We must press forward, for tomorrow your future will be determined.  But first—"

"Sir, please!"  Kaine stood up.  The wind from rising and stepping away from the fire alone cooled him enough to afford some relief.

"Sit down, boy.  Or I swear, I'll tie you down!"

 "Yes, My Lord."  Kaine obeyed but sat on a chair.  Away from the fire ring.  From this moment on, he'd be able to give his undivided attention.

Mooregaard cleared his throat.  "Now, then.  Kaine, what is your purpose as a citizen of Valdshire Tor?"

"To serve my King, protect and defend my land from attacks both exotic and clandestine.  But first and foremost, from the unseen enemy that is ignorance, superstition."

"Yes, yes.  Any student can recite the pledge of royal fealty."  Mooregaard pointed the tip of his sword straight at Kaine's heart.  "What do you say your purpose is?"

Kaine tugged on his collar which suddenly felt tighter.  "I'm not certain."

"I see in you valor, honor, all of which are hallmarks of a great leader, a leader of the next generation."

"But how do you know?"

"You will lead.  But I must know if your priorities are in order.  First:  Given the choice of obeying your Lord, or commander in combat, or even your king, or obeying your conscience, your ideas of right and wrong, which would you chose?"

"My conscience."

"It is well spoken.  Commanders, kings even, are all but mere men, all fallible.  A true leader leads by conscience, not the approval of man.  Now, second:  Given the choice of obeying your conscience or violating it, to aid a friend or even, a loved one, which would you chose?"

Immediately, Kaine thought of the one person to whom this might one day, however hypothetical, apply.  His reply was not as swift this time.  Would that he'd never face this question in real life.  "Well... I suppose, I'd still chose my conscience."

The ebony knight drew his lips into a taut line, set his eyes in an austere gaze.  "Few have understood the implications of these questions.  Fewer still have answered as well.  And only they can be entrusted with the truth, because only they shall know how to act upon it.  Verily, I say, you are indeed ready." 

For the rest of the night, Kaine sat rapt in wonder at all Sir Mooregaard taught him.  The history not only of Valdshire Tor, but of the world, all that could be known of it, from every aspect: Technology, culture, science and even an explanation of Valdshire Tor's ancient enemy.

"For as long as anyone can remember, before all written history," Mooregaard said, now seated before Kaine, "we have been at war with the Sojourners, those religious fanatics of the East  In the name of their deity, Valhandra, these honorless cowards attack the innocent, sparing neither woman nor child.  They employ terror where no decent warrior would imagine unsheathing a sword.  They know no battle ground for their cowardice drives them to attack the unsuspecting during times of ostensible peace."

"Why do they war against us?"  This was something he pondered since childhood.  According to his former master, the Sojourners attacked the village of his parents and killed them.  He and Render were not quite three and two years old, respectively, barely able to feed themselves.  Both brothers were taken away, traveled westward for three days and sold to the people of Talen Wood into a life of slavery.

But now, to their great fortune, King Corigan's annexation of the backwards village had reversed all that.  And it seemed fate had smiled upon Kaine, affording what might well be the chance to avenge his parents' death.

"Why do the Sojourners attack us?"  Mooregaard huffed.  "For our belief in universal freedom.  Our way of life, some might argue."

"Might you expound on that, our way of life?"

Mooregaard sat back in his chair, rested his elbow on the hilt of his sword and cleared his throat.  "Torians are rational, scientific, intellectually and culturally minded, we believe in tolerance of all people, despite our differences.  But Tian Kuo is filled with fanatical zealots."

"Why have the Sojourners killed so many?  What is it they want?"

"They wish to impose their superstitious ways on all.  In the name of Valhandra, they hate, they terrorize, and they murder."

"My parents..."  They too fell victim.  For that reason had he been reminded and taught to fear, to hate the Sojourners, since childhood.  Quickly, he pushed the grief into the recesses of his mind.  "Do not all nations fight over religious ideals?"

Mooregaard straightened up, removed his helmet and placed a firm hand on his shoulder.  "My young squire, if you have learned nothing else, mark this well:  The people of this great kingdom are not beholden to any man-made superstition.  Religion is but a walking stick for the feeble of mind.  Any modern man with a sound head on his shoulders knows this.  All this talk of magic, and the spirit realms, why, it's the stuff of fairy tales, nothing more."

"Lord Mooregaard," he said, his voice breaking.  "Do you know anything about the attack on my parents' village?"

Mooregaard stood, sheathed his broadsword and held Kaine's own weapon out to him.  "The hour grows late.  You must be well-rested for your combat exams tomorrow."

"But I should like to know more about—"

"In due time.  Remember, your knighthood, your very future depends on fulfilling this course of training.  And as I have repeatedly said tonight, you are ready."

CHAPTER NINETEEN

They had flown for two days away from the sun setting over the Eastern summits which stood like a fortress that separated the two great kingdoms.  It had been Ahndien who wanted to stop and rest before entering the western mountain range, not so much because she felt tired, but because she was afraid.

Something about those snow covered peaks had always called to her, her sense of adventure.  And at the same time, as she and Lao-Ying drew nearer, a cold dread darkened her heart like an overwhelming shadow.  Such as when the moon stands before the sun and throws the entire world into darkness, when it ought to be light.

"We are not far from Handara," Lao-Ying said, now in his frail human form.  The air was crisp and laced with the minty scent of pine.  It sent a chill through Ahndien's body.  The breeze, pure and clear, seemed to blow right through her body.

"I feel like we should wait."  She sat upon a large rock, unbuckled and set her father's sword at her feet.  "I'm not quite ready."

"In more ways than one, you are right."  At some point, he must have started a fire, but Ahndien had not been paying attention.  Her eyes and thoughts were drawn to the mountains with overwhelming ambivalence. 

"I am going to get food, please fill the flask with water."  He pointed to the glassy stream which flowed relentlessly down.  Following its course, Ahndien saw how it ran all the way from the mountains down past this place.  From the air, she had traced it past her village.  This led to the Emerald River, which served as the main water supply for the great city of Tian Kuo.

"Are we having duck again?"

Lao-Ying grinned, his cottony eyebrows arching.  "Would you prefer something heartier...mountain lion, perhaps?"

"No, thank you.  Duck will be fine."

The old man laughed quietly and leapt into the air.  "I won't be far."

"Are you sure?"  The thought of being left alone made her heart beat forcefully.

"All can be seen from above, remember?"  Before his body even began to fall, he transformed again.  His gigantic wings kicked up leaves, branches and stones as he flew off with a piercing eagle's cry.

"I'll never get used to that."  She stepped over father's sword and went to the babbling stream.  With her hands cupped, she plunged them into the water.  It was so pure, so cold she just had to take a drink before filling the flask.  The first handful soothed her so much that she almost forgot about the lingering pain that she'd been carrying but stuffed away like too much clothing into a sack.  Her mother, her little brother, she'd never see them again.  

Oh, but the water did refresh her so.

It seemed to refresh her spirit as much as her thirst.

She would try not to cry for her family just now because if she did, she feared she would never stop.  And how then would she go about finding Ah-Ba and return the sword?

His sword.

One of which she had taken without permission.

She could only hope that he'd been able to use the other one of the pair to defend himself against those Torian dogs.  She had never felt so sad, so alone in all her life.  Her vision blurred as a pang twinged the center of her chest.  Quickly she wiped the tear before it could fall.

To soothe her thoughts, she took the flute from her pocket and began to play a cheerful song.  But her own hiccupping breaths caused the melody to stutter.  With a deep, wet breath, she sighed, wiped her upper lip and tried again.

For as long as she could remember, the only songs she ever played were simple tunes that Ah-Ba had taught her.  Some of them she made up as the inspiration afforded.  This time, the most beautiful melody she had ever played filled the hills.  It was a long melodious line, still based on the five-note pentatonic scale so prevalent in the music of Tian Kuo, but its meter, phrasing and accents...there almost seemed to be words.

A patch of blue sky opened in the clouds and the sun shone warmly through.  From the corner of her eye, she noticed that every tree branch—fallen or on the trees surrounding her—was filled with birds of many kinds.  Sparrows, crows, doves, even owls and eagles (the normal-sized kind.)  Each of them cocked their head at one point or another to get a better look at Ahndien as she played this song—a song that felt as familiar as a distant memory.

Four songbirds alighted on her shoulders and sang along while she played.  Ahndien stood and began to stroll through the trees, an entourage of birds chirping, twittering, and fluttering gently around her.

This continued as she strolled by the side of the stream, delighted at her newfound friends.  She'd always noticed that birds came to her when she played the flute, it was nothing particularly unusual to her.  But this time, she felt a connection with them, a sort of kinship, for lack of a better term.

Turning back into the woods, Ahndien repeated the song, her eyes shut, taking in the sun on her face, the fresh pines, the harmonious bird songs, until something stopped her like a wall of ice.

Not even opening her eyes, she knew something was wrong.

The birds had stopped singing.

Ahndien lowered the flute from her lips.

Opened her eyes.

There, standing about a yard before her, stood a large gray wolf waiting to pounce, its sharp teeth snarling with malice.

CHAPTER TWENTY

From behind a thicket, three more wolves emerged.  White drool dangled from their open jaws.

"Not again." 

Careful not to make any sudden move, Ahndien slid her flute into her pocket and reached for her sword.

But it wasn't there.

She'd left it by the fire.

"Lao-Ying?"  Barely a whisper.  She was too afraid to raise her voice.

The undulating sound of four hungry wolves slowly closing in rumbled.  She could feel the vibrations in her fingertips.  A cold trickle of sweat rolled down the center of her back.

Part of her wanted to cry.  But she pushed it back down to that place where she kept the sad memories of her family. "Lao-Ying?"

// YOUR FATHER'S SWORD...//

One of the wolves took a step forward, but turned around and snapped at the wolf behind him who had gotten too close.

"Where are you?"

// I AM COMING, FIGHT THEM OFF! //

"How?"

// FROM YOUR HEART //

That made no sense.  The sword lay on the ground, under the foot of the furthest wolf.  Desperate, Ahndien took out her flute.  She anticipated the wolves mocking her as the mountain lions had—somehow communicating their thoughts to her.  They would laugh at the little wooden tube with eight holes, the choice weapon of a peasant girl.

But nothing like that happened.

These were common, witless beasts.  And that made them seem even more dangerous.

From your heart.

Without a better choice than to trust the old eagle, she put the flute to her lips.  And blew a fierce note so shrill, it made her teeth hurt.

Startled, the wolves stopped.

Blinked.

Shook their ears.

And continued to lurk forward.

How much would it hurt to be ripped to shreds by wolves?  How far was Lao-Ying, if he wasn't already back to help?  With nothing left to do but heed his advice, she began to play a song.  Not a fast, angry song, but one that came from that place in her heart where all the fear, sorrow, and hopes lay waiting for her to unlock.

As she played, her eyes were shut but streaming with emotion, ruffling sounds filled the air.  The birds on her shoulders flew off.  Terse growls and snarls mixed into the cacophony.  Ahndien opened her eyes to find countless birds around her swarming around the lead wolf.  Mercilessly, they flapped wings in its face, pecked at its eyes, its neck, until it fell to the ground thrashing about, snorting and trying to breathe.

Ahndien kept playing.

The lead wolf finally got up and ran into the woods, all the birds following.  Two more, also engulfed in the avian attack followed it.  Ahndien was so excited she stepped forward, as though chasing them away.

Just then, Lao-Ying landed in the form of a human.  He crumpled to the ground, breathing heavily.

"Lao-Ying!"

"Stay alert!"  He held up his hand trying to keep her back.  His chest rose and fell rapidly.  Struggling to keep himself upright, the old man could not seem to stand to his feet.

Without warning, one of the wolves of which Ahndien had lost track jumped and landed on Lao-Ying.

"No!"  The old man put his arms up to shield his face and the wolf sunk its teeth into his wrist.