The Faerion (22 page)

Richela laughed again. "Nothing. I want no claim to the throne. I just want to live my life. Perhaps the wife of a knight would suit me." They all smiled with her.

Navir watched the red hawk make its kill. He chuckled to himself. Every hawk he saw drew his undivided attention no matter what task at hand. Three hawks so far today. This one seemed larger than usual and he watched it take its dinner to a tree, tall and stretching over a river. He sat down in a shady spot, leaning back against a tree; his eyes alert for signs of the hawk. He felt the piercing eyes before he spotted it. He sighed.

It proved difficult for Navir to keep his attention focused on the events in Calendia. He promised Apal his assistance but his mind drifted away from such things and so did he. He provided some help but now while war raged outside the white walls of Nantitet, Navir found himself miles away watching birds. He had not realized how different Men were than Daerlan. Truly different. He hoped he could find a home far from other Daerlan. He would not return to his father, ever. Yet, he was different from the Men he dwelled among. His understanding of Men he now knew to be faulty. Was there a place for him? His daughter would not understand his actions any more than Apal or even Kirkes. He could not understand them. It some ways he understood Kirkes and the abandonment of his past, but not his devotion to another man's wife. Navir felt truly lost. The cool breeze relaxed him and he thought of Wynne.

He opened his eyes, unaware that he had slept. The red hawk perched on a low branch just over his head. Its eyes keenly stared at him. He sat waiting for the bird to fly away. Its beauty brought a smile to his lips. They remained still; gazes locked. Then the hawk's wings spread as it glided down to him. Even as the talons touched the ground the image shimmered and Wynne stood before Navir.

Neither one spoke immediately.

"Blackthorne told me the truth," said Wynne, at last. The words came hard. "Why couldn't you?"

"There did not appear to be a need to concern myself with your heritage. I am a Daerlan. Daerlan do not raise their own children. The community raises the children."

"Neither do they mate with Wierluns! They kill them!" Wynne's eyes filled with tears. "Why! Why do Daerlan kill Wierluns?"

"I do not know the full tale, but it is a shameful part of our history. Tuors are wound into the story but it was before I was born. My father had already led armies against Wierluns when I was but a babe."

"Berimar seemed upset by it himself. He said there was some connection between Tuors and Daerlan and since Daerlan would not speak of it, he would not either."

"You saw Berimar?"

"At Blackthorne's house."

"He was there? Why? What business did they transact?" Navir got to his feet, eyes flashing.

"Berimar warned Blackthorne that Lady Galamog would attack Calendia."

"Really? How generous of him. Were there Tuors there? Did Berimar buy any from Blackthorne?"

Her mouth dropped open. "So it is true. I trusted Blackthorne. He is aptly named. Berimar said Blackthorne sold him Daerlan for his experiments. I did not want to believe it. How can he help us one minute, while he's selling Daerlan and other species? I really trusted him."

"His goals are his own although he can be a friend if you have nothing for him to take from you." He sat silently, and then turned to her. "I believe he told you about me to get you to leave his home alone. And in rushing away forget what it was that brought you there. Did you have the Faerion?"

"Yes. It remains at Blackthorne's house. I know you need to return it to your father, but he ordered my mother killed. By your brother."

"Aelan. I admired him when I was younger. I will kill him when I see him again. I tried to kill him once."

"What about us?" asked Wynne. "Can you be a father?"

"You are grown up, Wynne. Why do you need a father? I do not understand it in human terms."

"I need one now, perhaps more than before. I have suddenly found my father, heard tales of my mother, and discovered I can change shape. I also escaped from High Cedars after much abuse from the soldiers. If I knew I could change shape I would have escaped without being violated! Why did you not tell me? Even at the end when escape was the only route! Why! Why!" She beat her fists against him. He tried to gather her to him, and then slipped away.

"It never occurred to me."

"My safety never occurred to you?"

"No."

"What kind of father are you!"

"I am a Daerlan. I behave as a Daerlan."

"You conceived me with a Wierlun!"

"One mistake, that's all. In all other respects I am a Daerlan."

"Mistake? I am a mistake?" The agony in her voice pierced Navir and he turned away.

"How am I supposed to be?" he asked softly. "What do you want me to do? Tell me how to behave as a father. What do you expect from me? Tell me so I can do it."

Wynne sobbed. "I don't know what a father's supposed to do! I never had one! All I know is he shouldn't make me hurt so much! Navir! Help me." Her voice trailed off into sobs.

Navir went to her. He lifted her chin and kissed her forehead. "Daughter." Wynne collapsed into his arms.

Later, they spoke again.

"Why did you leave the Faerion in Blackthorne's hands?"

"It is warded. He shouldn't be able to obtain it. I will let him see a portion of the book for our freedom."

"Freedom? You are free."

"He let me roam after telling me about you and Aeli. But the Tuors are still there."

"Are they?" asked Navir, rising. "What's to keep him from selling them to Berimar without your presence? Perhaps they are already gone."

Wynne turned white, making a gagging noise in her throat. The hawk took wing and Navir raced on foot. She quickly outdistanced him but he knew the path to Blackthorne's house well.

The Daerlan's fleet feet covered the miles quickly but the hawk flew ever before him. The ground dropped off into a gully slowing Navir's progress as he picked his way through thorn bushes and ground softened by a slow creek. The path sloped upward for several hundred yards and by the time he reached level ground again he could not catch Wynne. He pushed himself to greater speed.

He heard the shrieks of the hawk ahead of him. He saw her fly at the invisible barrier surrounding the grounds of the house. As he neared, Blackthorne appeared.

"So, you have found him. Very good. How did the reunion go?"

Blackthorne noticed the stern expressions. He stepped back a couple steps. The gate shimmered as his wards increased.

"Where are the Tuors?" asked Navir. His eyes bore into Blackthorne.

"I am afraid they have returned home."

"Liar!" screamed Wynne. "You sold them to Berimar!"

Blackthorne paused, and then bowed.

"If I did, you cannot help them now."

"I can use the Faerion," said Wynne.

Blackthorne laughed.

"Can you? You have warded it to keep me from it, but you cannot penetrate the compound. In time I will dissolve your wards and the book will be mine." The wizard smiled. "There is no advantage to remaining here. You might as well move along." He turned and walked away vanishing into the mist.

"He is right," said Wynne. "Come on. At least let us look for them. Berimar might not be expecting pursuit."

"Good luck!" called Blackthorne.

Wynne grabbed Navir's arm and pulled the furious Daerlan after her. "Come on, I have an idea."

They walked in silence until they were far from Blackthorne.

"What is it?" asked Navir.

Wynne closed her eyes, holding her hands in front of her. A shape materialized in her hands.

"The Faerion! How did you do it?"

"One of the first pages tells how to keep it with you, unseen and undetected by any supernatural power. I had it with me all the time. I set a warded spell so Blackthorne would believe I left it in his care. He will find a nasty surprise when he breaks through the wards. It will take him days and we shall be far away by then."

"You are your mother's child," grinned Navir. Wynne smiled for a moment, and then sobered.

"Yes, I am. Mistake that I am."

Navir's head snapped up, looking in Wynne's direction, but she kept moving without acknowledging his glance. He knew he had hurt her, but did not know how to soften the pain. He had no notion in that regards. His time with Aeli was pure joy. They had no heartache to work through together. He endured alone after her death. Perhaps he could talk to Wynne of how he felt in those days. His memory was still clear. Perhaps it would help. Perhaps.

Navir tried to talk to her several times as they walked but received only stony silence. The trail gave them few clues. Navir could not see signs of their passing and Wynne used her magic to detect traces of Berimar's passing. Something passed but she could not be sure what it was. They decided to follow it, knowing of no other creature than Berimar who would have passed this way.

Navir walked and walked at a brisk pace. Wynne finally asked him to stop and the look on his face told her it did not occur to him that she might tire. Again, she slept without speaking to him. Navir knew the anger was there; it could feel it all around him.

He tried to remember everything he knew of Berimar, the sorcerer. The creature existed for over a thousand years and Navir did not know the true heritage of Berimar. Blackthorne said Berimar spoke of fishing off the southern coast in his youth but little else. At some point he became ensnared by Natale Galamog; truly a creature of unknown origins. Rumor spoke of a shipwreck from across the sea. What was there really, over those endless seas? Did Galamog belong to this world? Navir could not answer. Her power must be formidable to overwhelm the sorcery of Berimar. Berimar's power towered over Blackthorne's wizardry and Navir found his magic somewhere in-between them. If Berimar returned to Galamog before they could catch him, what chance did they have of rescuing the Tuors?

Navir's thoughts ran deep into his past and the one time he viewed the contents of the Faerion. He wished Wynne would let him look at it. His father spoke of the great evil in the south that feared the Faerion. It could only have been Galamog. What spells would be useful against such a creature? How would he find the correct one? He rested his face in his hands, breathing deeply. Time passed.

He felt her eyes on him, suddenly. Her gaze sharp, surprising warm, bored into him until he was unaware of anything but Wynne.

"I still do not know if I should trust you."

"You trusted me always," said Navir.

"That was before I knew you deceived me."

"I spoke truly in all things."

"Do not be difficult. You withheld the truth from me. How can I be sure you will not do so again?"

Navir stared into the foliage above him.

"Aeli and I shut out the world. We lived only for each other. I cannot say how long we were together for we did not mark the passage of time. Time was eternal in that glen. The world keeps moving; we did not."

Wynne watched Navir as he spoke grasping for images and feelings of her mother. The reflections of Navir's eyes showed a shadowy image of the Wierlun and her wild dancing, laughing, and flying on the wind. It slipped Wynne's grasp, returning, and then fleeing again. It was not much, but Wynne began to find a sense of her mother. She also remembered why she admired Navir so much and her pain eased a little. Her anger remained and they would have to confront that ere the end.

"Will he take them to Mordyn?"

"There is no other place for him. I am surprised that he ventured out at all. If the Tuors were the only reason he came north, then I am much perplexed. Any minion would have been just as effective."

"Unless the Faerion prompted him to return."

"Good point. I could believe that if he knows the truth about the book."

"Truth?"

"One of many truths. I remember a story that there is power enough in the Faerion to destroy Galamog."

"Truly? Then we must learn the spells."

"I've thought much about those spells. I am not convinced that it is a single spell that contains the necessary power, but there is no one with the lore we require. It is a puzzle and we must work it out."

"Navir? You love puzzles don't you?"

He smiled. "Yes, I do. It is one thing I enjoy. Aeli was a terrific puzzle." This time the smile did not leave his face.

They walked for miles, Navir leading southward. He left the road and their path wound through the edges of precipices. Wynne thanked her mother for her newfound ability to fly. She tried not to look over the edge.

"I do not know what roads Berimar will take but I know where his home is located. I will never forget that blackened mountain. Deep in its bowels Berimar makes his home, not far from the tunnels leading to Galamog." His words hung in the crisp air. They neared the peaks of the mountains. The beginning of Mordyn lay just beyond their sight, but they felt the malice hanging like a fog over the lands below.

"I will not abandon the Tuors to Berimar," said Wynne. Navir glanced at her, but her eyes scanned the horizon. Perhaps she spoke to herself. He started downward.

They noticed the dryness of the land immediately. The sun beat upon them and Navir missed the cool forests of Arda. It became hotter the lower their path wound. Navir sensed watchfulness in the land.

"Do not take flight in this land," said Navir. "There is a presence watching us. I do not what it may do."

"I sense it too. It's not Berimar."

"Agreed. I think it is Galamog."

"She must be powerful indeed. Are we not a score of miles from her home?"

"Yes."

"And she can sense us?"

"Wynne, remember that Galamog is not any creature that you find familiar. She came across the water and her power is very great. Very great. We may be walking into our graves."

"We may. But I have my father, now."

Navir smiled and turned to her, but her face was grim.

"Let's go! The sooner we end this, the better."

Navir shook his head and walked; his eyes alert for movement in the barren land. The land spread out dry, rocky and full of disconcerting shadows. He knew Berimar's mountain lay near the foothills, low in the range yet tall nonetheless. They would go there first.