A Time of Darkness (The Circle of Talia) (7 page)

As they passed from Vellonia like a cherry pip spat from a mouth, Bronwyn thought she felt a rock lightly graze her head; then the warmth of the sun reached her through the cold wind of their flight. The boat hit water and slid to a halt, drenching Blayke and Arcon in the process as a sheath of water, upset by their landing, washed over the front of the vessel.

Bronwyn opened her eyes as her belt unclasped. “Oh, look: our horses!”

In her excitement, she stood and almost fell from the boat as it rose out of the water to hover next to the top of the riverbank.

Settle down, young cub. I don’t feel like fishing you out of the river today
, Sinjenasta chided.

The group stepped off, one by one, and Bronwyn took extra care not to embarrass herself further, although she couldn’t resist running to Prince. She stroked her fingers along his nose and hugged his neck. “Oh, I’ve missed you so much. I thought I’d never see you again.”

She nuzzled her face into his, becoming reacquainted with the dusty fragrance of sweat mixed with hay that she loved.

“It’s just a horse. Why do girls get so excited over horses?”

Arcon answered, “I can’t say why, lad, and let me tell you: there’s a lot of things you will never understand about women. I think you should just get used to it.”

“How come you’re not married?” Blayke had always wondered but
never asked.

Arcon, one foot in a stirrup, hesitated, clearly taken off guard by the question. He raised himself into the saddle and looked to the sky. “Oh, look at those dark clouds. I think we might get some rain today.”

“Nice try at avoiding my question. Come on; you have to tell us.”

“I don’t really, but what the Third Realm. I’ll tell you a bit about my life as we ride, but don’t expect it to be exciting.” He chuckled. A lot had happened in his life, but it had happened so long ago, he sometimes felt it had happened to someone else. The memories he pulled from the depths were cloudy, and it saddened him that he couldn’t picture the faces of the ones he had loved the most. “Many, many, many, many years ago, when I was twenty, I met a young lady. Her name was Marcie. We met at the Bayerlon Spring Fair. She had hair the color of fiery autumn leaves, and her green eyes enchanted me the first time I saw her.”

Bronwyn, Sinjenasta, and Fang all listened eagerly as they rode. Bronwyn cried when Arcon told them how, after they married, as Marcie gave birth to their first child, she started bleeding. Arcon had just begun training as an apprentice realmist. There was nothing he, or the midwife, could do. Both Mother and Baby Boy died. Arcon had married again, when he was a lot older, but never had children—the memory of losing his son was always too painful, and he realized after becoming a realmist, that he would outlive his children if he had them.

“I don’t really want children, but I hadn’t thought about getting married. Does that mean we should choose other realmists?” Bronwyn asked.

“Don’t look at me.”

“What? I wasn’t looking at you, Blayke, you idiot.”

“Idiot? Gee thanks.”

“Well, if you don’t want to be called ‘idiot’, don’t say stupid things. And, I might add, thanks for the insult. What would be so bad about marrying me?” She looked straight at him, her eyes alive with challenge.

He looked at Bronwyn. He couldn’t deny she was striking, with long dark hair and large gray eyes, and he would be lying if he said he hadn’t noticed her “assets.” But there was something he couldn’t name, something that meant she didn’t excite him. He studied her closer: the shape of her square jaw, prominent cheekbones, straight nose—all were familiar. Blayke stopped his horse, not sure whether to be happy, angry, or both. The question was out before he had a chance to reconsider. “Arcon. Are Bronwyn and I related?”

Now it was Arcon’s turn to stop. The question he had been waiting for, and dreading, had come earlier than expected. Over the years, he had rehearsed his answer and decided the direct approach would be the best. “Yes.”

Bronwyn had halted, staring at Blayke. Sinjenasta stood beside Bronwyn’s horse. Fang climbed onto Blayke’s shoulder and rubbed the top of his furry head against his partner’s neck in a gesture of support.

Bronwyn looked at Blayke with a new perspective, and she cursed herself for being so caught up in her own dramas that she never noticed the similarities. Although he had green eyes and was taller than her, their features were similar, even the way he held his head while waiting for an answer, as he did now, slightly to one side.
Zebla’s hounds! Are we really related? How are we? Is he, is he, oh gods!
The words rushed out of her mouth,
“Arcon, tell us. Who are we?”

She had waited a lifetime for an answer, and her heart beat faster in anticipation. So many nights she had fallen asleep imagining what her mother and father looked like. Did she have sist
ers or brothers? Then something other than joy intruded, something she hadn’t anticipated: fear. Was she ready? Would she like who her family was, or were they murderers, greedy, or horrible?

“All right, but don’t fall off your horses, or run away. Before I tell you, I need your promise to try and understand why we couldn’t tell you.” Both nodded, willing to promise anything to know part of who they were. “You are brother and sister: twins, in fact.” The news was met with a sharp intake of breath from all but Sinjenasta and Phantom.

It surprised Arcon that a weight lifted as he spoke. He had never enjoyed keeping secrets—they eroded inner peace, especially when the information had the potential to hurt those you loved. So many times he had opened his mouth and almost said something without meaning to. Now he didn’t have to worry. There it was.

The two young realmists sat atop their horses, mouths open. Bronwyn’s reins lay forgotten across her horse’s neck. Blayke stared at Arcon, not knowing where to begin. He reached up and absently stroked Fang’s back. Finally, he broke the silence. “Why were we separated? Why did it have to be a secret?”

“The Circle knew you were important for Talia’s future, and we couldn’t risk anyone knowing you were alive. If someone did find out, we thought separating you would mean if worst came to worst, at least one of you would survive. We took you from your parents as soon as you were born. Your mother held you, and, when you were taken away to be cleaned up and settled, we told them you’d died.”

Bronwyn’s voice grew louder with each frantic question. “Surely they asked to see the bodies? And what about Avruellen? You kidnapped us! Who are our parents? Are they still alive?”

She thought of all the questions her aunt had fobbed off over the years. She was angry she had not sometimes asked what was in her heart in order to spare her aunt’s feelings, when it seemed, now, her aunt had no feelings to worry about in the first place. When Bronwyn looked at her brother—her twin brother, no less—she saw a friend she was only just getting to know: they were practically strangers, so much time lost. Bronwyn had always felt something was missing, and now she knew what it was.

Arcon spoke with a gentle voice. “We put you to sleep with power from the Second Realm to make you both still and quiet. We slowed your heartbeats until they couldn’t be felt and gave your skin a blue tinge. I also had to tamper with your parents’ minds so they easily accepted what we told them. I’m sorry we had to do it that way, but if we hadn’t, there would be a good chance you would have been killed for real. At least this way, you will see your parents again.”

He mentally kicked himself at the last, because he wasn’t ready to answer questions about who their parents were. They couldn’t be told yet and needed impartiality to do what needed to be done. There would be people who would have to die on their way to defeating the gormons, and Blayke and Bronwyn’s actions would decide the outcome. If they knew the truth, it might stop them doing what they should. Not to mention they’d want to race to them right now, when there wasn’t time.

“So, Uncle, who are our parents, and who are you to me, really?”

The last question hurt Arcon in a way he hadn’t thought was still possible. He had loved the boy like a son, and he was his great (a few times over) uncle by blood. He knew that revealing this secret would have repercussions, but he didn’t think they would pain him so much. Well, the boy’s trust in him would have to be sacrificed for the time being—better that than Bronwyn and Blayke finding out this news at an inconvenient moment, like while fighting a gormon.

Arcon dismounted and walked over to Blayke. He looked up at his nephew. “Blayke, I am your real uncle, if a few generations removed. I know this is a lot to take in, and I don’t think this was really the right time and place to tell you, but it needed to be said. I love you like a son and always will.” He turned to Bronwyn. “Bronwyn, your aunt is your aunt; she is also my sister. We are both responsible for taking you from your parents, but please understand, we had no choice. I know she loves you more than anything in this world, so please don’t be too hard on her when you see her.”

Arcon mounted his horse. “We have to get moving. We’ll talk more about this tonight when we’re not sitting on horses. As for your parents, you will see them soon, but not just yet.” Arcon raised his hand to still Blayke’s question. “Not now, lad. I’ll tell you all you need to know soon enough. Right now, Avruellen’s waiting for us, and there’s no time to waste. Who’s having the first turn at warding our symbols?”

“I will,” volunteered Bronwyn.

“Okay then. Hop up behind Blayke and hold on around his waist. We’ll do shifts of eight hours each. Blayke can go after you, and Sinjenasta can do the night watch. I’ll take first turn tomorrow.”

“Is it safe for you to do it again so soon?” Blayke’s concern was echoed by Phantom’s hoot.

“I think so. I feel strong enough, and it will only be for a short time. I’ll be fine.” Blayke narrowed his eyes and frowned, but Arcon just turned his back on his nephew, kicked his horse and moved off at a walk. Once Bronwyn was settled behind Blayke, they followed Arcon in silence. It was going to be a long day.

After saying goodbye to their fellow realmists, Arie spent the day exploring the valley, while Agmunsten met with Zim, Arcese, Bertholimous, Warrimonious, King Valdorryn, and Queen Jazmonilly. No other dragons would be trusted with more than they needed to know. Zim didn’t know who Symbothial had betrayed them to, but so much about his cousin’s behavior didn’t fit. They couldn’t afford to open themselves up to more betrayal.

“So it’s agreed then. My sister, Arcese, and I will fly Agmunsten and Arie to Bayerlon to help King Edmund retrieve his daughter and get Prince Leon under control. We may need your help Bertholimous, if we go to war with Inkra.” Zim shifted on his bench seat, wishing he were not talking of war, although Prince Leon and a few thousand humans were not going to be much of a match for the strength and tactics of an army fortified with dragons—unless….

“I know what you’re thinking, Zim,” said Agmunsten, “but I don’t think Leon will have any gormons, or anything else, at his disposal. I think he may have one realmist, but I can’t be sure.

“Better to be safe than sorry, as they say.” Bertholimous looked at Warrimonious, his second-in-charge. “We’ll keep in touch, every night. I’ll have Arcese ward our conversations. If one of us doesn’t check in, we should assume something has happened.”

“Then what?” asked Warrimonious.

“I don’t know. I suppose it depends on the situation.”

“Excuse me. I hate to interrupt, but that doesn’t sound like much of a plan.” King Valdorryn looked from his master of war to his captain and back again.

“Have you got a better one, Sire?”

“Hmm, no. It’s been an extremely long time since we’ve had to deal with war. I’m a bit rusty: we all are.”

Agmunsten spoke. “I’m going to send for one of the teachers and four students from The Academy. I think it’s time you shared your Talian natural magic secrets with more realmists. We’ll need the advantage when it comes time to fight the gormons. Have you got anyone here who can teach them?”

Arcese looked at her mother and smiled. “My mother is quite good, actually.”

“Well, I don’t like to brag, but I can hold my own with my talented daughter. I’d be only too happy to share some of our secrets with them.”

Agmunsten stifled a cough when he saw the queen flutter her eyelashes. He hadn’t even realized dragons had eyelashes—and just when he thought he’d seen everything. “Good; it’s settled. So, I think it’s time to get to bed. We have an early start tomorrow.”

King Valdorryn listened, all the while tapping his claws on the table. When he spoke, his voice had taken on the edge of menace Agmunsten heard after Symbothial had been murdered. And he looked straight at the head realmist. “If it comes to war, you keep my daughter out of it. Do you understand? I won’t have any of our female dragons fighting, and certainly not my daughter.” A tendril of smoke escaped his nostrils and drifted towards the ceiling.

Agmunsten combed thick fingers through his beard. “I wasn’t planning on sending her to war, Valdorryn, but we may have to before this gormon thing is finished.”

Valdorryn leaned forward and pointed a clawed finger at the realmist. “If I hear my daughter has been used to kill anyone, or has been put in the way of danger, I will be forced to take action.”

“I am inclined to agree with the king. No wife of mine is going to war. It’s my job to protect her—not the other way around.” Warrimonious looked at the realmist, then at Arcese, who stared back at him with a look that would have sent a lesser dragon scurrying out of sight.