Reign of Shadows (10 page)

After
about a league, the forest thinned to marshland. The imperial road rose up atop
a levy, but a common road of frozen mire branched off from it, skirting the
marsh and heading south toward Meunch. At this spot stood an immense archway of
imported granite. Although plain of any curving or ornamentation, its
architecture was foreign, exotic. The speckled stone seemed to speak of other
lands, other customs, calling to travelers to seek them out. Strange letters
had been etched into the base of the arch tall, spiky letters in a script as
foreign as the stone.

Towering
almost as high as the trees, the arch spanned the imperial road, testament to
one of the emperor’s greatest achievements. The roads spanned the length and
breadth of the empire, making every corner of it accessible. As for the archway
itself, its sheer massive size stood as silent testament to the emperor’s power
and long reach. Had the archway stood at the edge of a large town such as
Ornselag, imperial troops would have maintained sentries and a check- post.

Beva
reined up beneath the arch and gave the ponies a breather. He watched the
forest and sky with extra care and seemed reluctant to venture out into the open
marshlands.

“What’s
wrong?” Caelan asked, thinking of the shadowy denizens said to inhabit the
marshlands.

“We
must gallop on,” Beva said. “We dare not stay long in the open. Come.”

“But—”

Beva
spurred his mount, and the pony plunged off the paved road and down a short
embankment to the crude track that led north. Caelan followed more cautiously,
wondering why his father had not lit the healer’s lantern bobbing on the pole.
Normally it was a signal to all robbers that this was a man of good traveling on
a mission of mercy, lacking money to steal. Most bandits respected the lantern,
and Beva had never been attacked in all his years of traveling. For him not to
light it now, especially if he suspected danger, made no sense unless it was
the unworldly he feared.

Caelan
wrapped his cloak tightly around his chest and kicked his own pony to catch up.
They rode hard and fast, the ponies’ breath steaming in long white plumes.
Geese rose off the water with startled honking as they galloped by. More than
once their path dipped into the semifrozen slush. The ponies leaped and plunged
through it, kicking spray high behind them.

Beva
never rode hard like this, but Caelan enjoyed it. Their pace was exhilarating.
The sense of mysterious danger gave the adventure extra spice. He found himself
watching land and sky as warily as his father was, his senses drinking in the
cold outdoors that he’d missed while in school. The air was crisp and clean
with scents of pine and spruce over laying the bog smell. The snow stung his face
and malted his eyelashes. It was glorious.

Finally
forest curved ahead of them. Beva dove into the cover of trees and undergrowth
and drew rein beneath the sweeping branches of a larch. Breathless, his heart
pounding, Caelan stopped beside him and let his snorting pony drop its head.
Both animals were heavily lathered. Steam rose off their wet bodies into the
cold air.

Around
them the forest lay still, with only the soft rattle of falling snow through
the branches. Occasionally a jackdaw could be heard in the sky.

Beva
finally blinked and seemed satisfied.

“What
is it?” Caelan asked softly. “Can we return to the road?”

“No.
Too dangerous. We must stay in the forest, where there is cover.”

“But
if we go this way, it will take twice as long to get home.”

“Better
to be safe than quick,” Beva said, adjusting his gauntlets.

“If
you’re worried about robbers, light your lantern.”

Beva
shook his head. “Light will only call attention to us. We must take great care.”

“From
what?” Caelan asked in bewilderment. “What kind of robbers do you fear?”

“Not
robbers.”

Caelan
waited for his father to continue, but Beva was looking into the forest,
tight-lipped and plainly worried.

“I
can’t help if I don’t understand,” Caelan said in frustration. “Why the
secrecy?”

Beva
shot him a glance, his face unreadable. He hesitated, then said, “Imperial
troops are being withdrawn from the eastern borders.”

“Yes,”
Caelan said impatiently. “I know thai. You aren’t afraid of them, are you? What
happened to me was just a—”

Beva
glared at him. “Some of the auxiliary forces are comprised of Thyzarenes. With
their release from service, they have begun raiding—sometimes as far as the
northern rim.

Caelan’s
mouth fell open. Instinctively he ducked farther beneath the branches. “Thyzarenes!”

His
mind churned with the thought of it. Thyzarenes were worse than devils. They
were said to attack from the sky, riding huge winged monsters that breathed
fire. They were merciless savages who pillaged and destroyed. There had been
none in Trau in Caelan’s lifetime.

“But—”

“Quick
hunt-and-strike raids,” Beva said grimly. “If the emperor wants to use them
against his enemies, that is one thing, but he should not turn them loose on a
peaceful and loyal populace.”

“But
why are they raiding us? Are you sure it’s not just rumor to liven up winter
days?” Caelan asked with a skeptical laugh.

“I
have seen their work,” Beva said. “Two holds burned so far and one village.
People slaughtered or carried off. The few survivors are in no shape to bury
the dead, and that of course brings the wolves.” His mouth tightened with the
little twist that always came when he failed to save a patient.

Caelan
was ashamed now that he’d laughed. “But the army has moved on, hasn’t it? I
mean, when I saw them they were marching fast, not living off the land or
raiding as they went. Wouldn’t the Thyzarenes go with them?”

“Who
is to say what such savages will do?” Beva asked. “Trau joined the empire for
protection, not to be pillaged for sport.”

“When
we get home we’ll have to open the arms room,” Caelan said. “We need to make
preparations to fight if necessary. Did you bring weapons today for protection?”

Beva
stared at him in disapproval. “The idea of fighting pleases you.”

“Well,
I think we should defend ourselves, not—”

Beva
turned his pony and rode on through the trees without another word.

Caelan
scowled, feeling the dismissal as strongly as the blow of a proctor’s staff.
His words, his opinions were not worthy enough to be heard. To his father, he
remained a child of no standing. Resentfully, Caelan sat a long while, reining
his pony when it tried to follow the other one.

Finally,
reluctantly, he kicked his mount forward.

Fuming,
he glared at his father, who refused to face reality. Beva wasn’t going to bend
principle one tiny bit, not even to be practical. How could his father wander
the forest unarmed and unprepared with these raiders bringing real danger to
the area? How could Beva depend on inner harmony, on
severance
against barbarians who
probably had never heard of such enlightened philosophies?

Maybe
Beva wasn’t as wise as he’d always thought. Maybe Beva didn’t know everything.
Maybe Beva was capable of making mistakes just like everyone else. It sure
looked like his father was making some now.

When
his pony caught up, Caelan glanced at his father’s stern profile. “I’m sorry
your opinion of me is so low. I’m sorry you don’t want to hear what I have to
say.”

Beva
tucked his chin deeper into the folds of his hood. “It is actions, not words,
that speak truth.”

Caelan
frowned and tried to hold onto his temper. “Whether you approve of fighting or
not, it doesn’t change the fact that we may be forced to defend our hold. What
can we do to protect ourselves?”

“We
have the warding keys.”

Astonished,
Caelan couldn’t believe what he was hearing. “They aren’t enough!”

Beva
glanced sideways at him. “They are from the old ways, yes. While I do not
approve of them, they do work. Someday, when all men are enlightened into the
paths of
severance,
we shall not need warding
keys or weapons.”

“But
that day has not yet come,” Caelan said impatiently. “And until it does, we
have to be strong and defend what belongs to us.”

Beva
sighed. “I had hoped the school would tame this wild spirit inside you. This
craving for excitement, for things beyond the ordinary. Why can you not
understand that excitement equals danger, that danger destroys, that
destruction takes away all that is good and harmonious, leaving only chaos and
harm in its wake?”

“But,
Father, when the danger comes to us, what are we to do? Just let it destroy us?”

“To
admire danger is to summon it. You have been warned of this, boy.”

Caelan
frowned. “So are you saying the Thyzarenes are
my
fault, that I brought them
here?”

“Rebellion
opens the gateway to darkness,” Beva said. “When enough hearts resist harmony,
then darkness grows.”

Caelan
slammed his fist against the pommel of his saddle. “I don’t believe this,” he
muttered furiously.

“Elder
Sobna told me you ran away from Rieschelhold, choosing night as your ally. You
found only danger in your search for excitement, did you not?” Beva’s voice was
cold, holding condemnation with no hint of concern. “You brought danger to
others. The soldiers you admire proved their brutality by attacking you. Has
this lesson taught you nothing? Fighting only brings more fighting, just as war
begets war.”

“But
how can a person learn if he doesn’t seek—”

“The
search is inward, not outward. I have told you so many times.”

Caelan
frowned. “But to sit and meditate ... I can’t do that.”

“Why?”

“I
just can’t.”

“You
mean you will not.”

“All
right, then, I won’t!” Caelan admitted stubbornly. “I want to see new places,
to travel, to have adventures. I want to see the world and all its wonders, not
remain forever cooped up in a hold with my hands tucked inside my sleeves.”

“The
journey must follow an inner road,” Beva said with a reproof. “Why do you
resist this truth?”

Caelan
gestured behind him. “And what of that imperial road, leading across the world?”

“Leading
to ways of wickedness and error. This, you crave.”

“I
just want to see how other people live. I’m tired of listening to stories, old
tales that may be false. How can I judge the truth from the lies if I don’t see
for myself?”

Beva
bowed his head. “No change,” he said quietly, as though to himself. “All these
months away, and there is no change in you at all.”

Caelan
could feel his stubbornness growing, along with the anger. “That’s right,
Father,” he said. “The masters failed to beat or starve my dreams from me. And
now I’m going to live as I please. I tried to tell you I didn’t want to be a
healer, and you wouldn’t listen to me.”

“There
is no other path for you,” Beva said with equal stubbornness. “I tested you and
saw the gift in you.”

“No,
you saw what you wanted me to be,” Caelan said resentfully. “You’ve never cared
what I wanted. It’s always been
your
plan,
your
wishes,
your
idea of how my life would be. Never mine.”

“You
were born to be a healer,” Beva said. “As I was born to it. My blood is in you.
My skill, waiting to be trained and guided.”

“Well,
that’s over,” Caelan said with a shrug. “No more training.”

“How
proudly you say it. You come home disrobed with the Ouon Bell rung over you.
That means you are dead, boy, dead to all healers. You can never be one of us.
You are outcast from the profession. Is this how you honor me? Is this how a
son thanks his father? How am I to stand among my colleagues now? How do I
point to my son with a father’s pride?”