Arine's Sanctuary

ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the author, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in reviews.

Cover Art:
Michelle Crocker

www.mlcdesigns4you.com

Publisher’s Note:

This is a work of fiction. All names, characters, places, and events are the work of the author’s imagination.

Any resemblance to real persons, places, or events is coincidental.

Solstice Publishing - www.solsticepublishing.com

Copyright 2015 KateMarie Collins

Arine’
s Sanctuary

by

KateMarie Collins

For my daughters, two of the strongest women I’ve had the privilege to know.

Prologue

T
he wagon bounced hard, jolting Arine awake. Rubbing her eyes, she looked around at the landscape. It was early morning, just past dawn.  The forest was familiar in the dim light. Home wasn’t far off. She stretched her arms towards the sky, willing the muscles in her back to wake with the rest of her.

She shifted a bit in the bed of the wagon. It was laden down with several boxes and bags, as well as a few other people from her village. Theos wasn’t isolated, but it wasn’t on a major caravan route either. Odd peddlers and such passed through often enough. Still, once or twice a year several of the tradesfolk banned together and made the run to Recor for supplies.

Arine moved aside the oilcloth covering the bundle next to her. The leather underneath it remained dry. It wasn’t the rainy season, but she’d spent far too much of her mother’s money on it to run the chance of spotting. Their shop was the only one for days in any direction to either have shoes made or repaired. 

She bounced along with the wagon as the sun continued to climb over the horizon. Reaching a hand into her tunic, she felt the small bundle within. A smile crossed her face. Ian would love the colors she’d chosen. The pencils were a good quality, and far more expensive than she would normally have spent. There wasn’t much she could give her brother that would make him as happy, though.

A smile crossed
her face at the thought of her brother. While only two years younger than she was, he was small for fourteen. Ever since the accident that had claimed their father’s life, Ian had lived in a world of his own creation. H
e could hear well enough, but rarely spoke to anyone besides Arine. She was the only one in Theos who could understand him. Not even their mother could. It seemed to Arine that their mother had given up trying to help Ian before she finished burying her
husband.

For all his problems, Ian could draw beautifully. Sometimes she’d find him curled up at the hearth, charcoal and parchment on the floor next to him, where he’d fallen asleep while drawing the night before. 

The creaking of the wagon seat alerted Arine, breaking her out of her reverie. Elaine looked down at her. “Last bend coming up, Arine.  Wake the others.” The older woman turned back around, her long silvery braid swinging slightly.

Arine pushed a stray lock of her coppery
hair out of her face before slowly waking the two others in the wagon with her. More had wanted to come on the run, eager to see the sights of Recor, but there wouldn’t be enough room for them and their goods on the return trip home. Winter had been brutal, depleting stores below normal levels. Only four of them went this time, but the shopping
list had been long.

The trees parted, giving way to the clearing where Theos sat. Arine took in the familiar houses and shops, dominated by the inn that took up the area behind the central well. Their wagon had been spotted already. Women poured forth from the buildings, voices calling out for help unloading, as they eagerly watched the wagon creep forward.

Arine kept silent, letting Elaine and the others answer the questions being put forth by everyone at once. She could barely keep the voices separate. Quickly, the wagon was emptied of all but the leather for Arine’s mother and Elaine’s own purchases.

Jumping down from the wagon, Arine reached in and pulled the leather bundle towards her. Her eyes scanned those still near the wagon, but
Ian wasn’t among them.
That’s strange
, she thought.
Normally he’s right here to carry the leathers for me.
Puzzled, she rearranged her own pack and lifted the package from the wagon bed.  At least the shop wasn’t a long walk away.
 

Struggling slightly to keep her hold on the package, Arine found the latch to the door. The door swung wide at her urging, announcing her presence with a loud bang as it hit the interior wall. Arine carefully maneuvered past the tables and racks of wares, grateful her mother had put off rearranging the store until she returned. Arine put the package on the back table with a grunt.  Leaning on it for a moment, she called out, “Ma!  Ian!  I’m back!” When she didn’t hear a reply, Arine removed her pack and placed it quietly on the floor behind the table. The door to the work area was cracked open. A small knot of fear formed in her stomach. She moved to open the door, looking inside the workroom.

Her mother sat at a workbench, her back to Arine. The small fire, just big enough to keep the room comfortable, burned merrily in the fireplace.  Tools were placed on various surfaces, waiting to be used. The chair Ian preferred sat empty.

“About time you got back, Arine. Though Elaine said it might take a few more days, given the
lists of stuff everyone
wanted.” Her voice rang in Arine’s ears. The tone was wrong.

The older woman shifted, turning around to face Arine. Her dark hair was disheveled, strands fought against the tight braid she usually wore. “Did you get a decent amount of leather for me?”

Arine scanned the room. There was no sign of Ian. Not even a sketching. Those normally cluttered the corner of one of the tables. “Yes, Ma.  I put them out on the table. You should be ok for a while.” The fear in her stomach was growing. “Ma, where’s Ian?”

The woman stood. Grabbing a thick cloth, she moved a steaming kettle away from the fire. Calmly, she poured herself a cup of tea before responding to Arine. “He’s gone. Caravan came through, saw his drawings. Offered me good money to take him with them. Said the Domines loved having artists in their houses.”

“You sold him?”
Aghast, Arine’s voice
shook with shock and fury.

“Not really. It’s not like I could’ve gotten him a wife around here, Arine. He’s not worth much to anyone. If the Domine likes having a mute fool for an artist, why shouldn’t we get a chance to profit?” Reaching into the pocket of her trousers, the woman tossed a small pouch onto a table. The heavy clink of coins echoed in the room. “That’s your share. Go ahead. Take it. It’ll go to your house, anyway, so might as well enjoy it now while you’re young.” 

Arine stared at the pouch, her mind reeling. Ian had been sold. Like a piece of property. His only sin being born a boy. Slavery was illegal, but the Domines usually looked the other way when it came to boys. 

“When did you do this?” Arine struggled to keep her voice neutral. However, if she could get information on when the caravan came through, she might be able to go after him. She kept her eyes on the pouch, unable to look at her mother.

“Two, maybe three days ago. The caravan didn’t stay long. Lynn’s stores in the inn were already fairly low. There were too many for her to feed beyond that.”
Her slurping
of tea reached Arine’s ears. “Pretty sure Lynn did some trading of her own. Saw a few new boys cleaning tables for her today. I’ll bet you saw them as well. She would’ve sent them out to help unload Elaine’s wagon.”

Arine’s mind worked frantically. Two or
three days’ head start! Very
carefully, she reached out and took the pouch from the table. It was heavier than she expected. She’d need to find Bess first. Her friend could get all sorts of information from the new boys at the inn, and probably already had.

“I’m a bit thirsty from the trip, Ma.  I’m going up to Lynn’s to have a drink or two, recoup a bit. Don’t wait up.” Keeping a tight rein on her anger, Arine darted from the shop before
anyone could stop her.

***

Two days later, Arine sat in an inn in some town. She’d lost track of names, of what direction she’d gone, searching for the caravan that now owned her brother. And of how much ale she’d had.

“This seat taken?” A voice, barely above a whisper, asked. Before Arine could raise her head to reply, the speaker pulled out a chair and sat down.

“You ready to listen to options, or are you still wanting to wallow in grief?” the voice asked.

Looking up, she took in the speaker. Dark hair pulled back in a braid, brown eyes that saw everything. The hilt of a sword peeking up past her ear. “What options?” she croaked, her voice raw from the alcohol.

“My mistress tasked me with seeking out those who had lost much, those who would do anything to regain what was taken from them. I’ve been following you since you left Theos. Heard you’re searching for your brother.” The young woman leaned in across the table. “She can train you, my mistress. Teach you how to save other boys
from a fate like Ian’s. And, one day, may be able to find him for you.”

Arine shook her head, trying to take in her words. “And in return?”

The woman sat back
in her chair. “Nothing. Mistress Bryn does not command loyalty, but earns it. The only question that remains is if you’re willing to follow me.”

“Follow you where?”

“To Sanctuary.”

Chapter One

            
 
A
rine maneuvered into the nook between chimneys as the clouds moved away from the moons, lighting both the street and the rooftops. Cel and Sav were full tonight, making her task more difficult. She whispered a silent prayer to Cinphire, more in desperation than any real hope that the Goddess would hear, then took a quick survey of the path in front of her.
May as well make use of the light
, she thought with a sigh.

              Her Mistress told her this wasn’t going to be easy, which was why Arine had been selected in the first place. Small and agile, she was perfect to leap across the red-tiled rooftops undetected. The hardest part thus far turned out to be getting from the tree, over the walls and into the city. Getting back out would depend on the agility of the one she was sent to fetch.

              Clouds darted across the twin moons again. Seizing the opportunity, Arine ran silently across the rooftops. The slight slope of the roof tiles kept her from getting complacent even as she closed the
distance between her hiding place and her
destination. Huddled between chimneys again, absently tucking a stray strand of copper hair back under her hat, Arine caught her breath. She poked her head out of the shadows long enough to verify her position. The target’s balcony loomed below her.

              She lowered herself from the rooftop to the balcony’s edge, keeping to the shadows as the dim glow of candlelight still illuminated the room. She needed to be careful now. It would be easier if he came along willingly, but she wasn’t above knocking him unconscious and carrying him out.

              Her senses spread out to the room. The sound of footsteps treading softly away from the window betrayed him. With another quick glance to check for watchers, she sidled up to the knob on the balcony door. A swift twist of her wrist opened it and before anyone could spot her, Arine disappeared into shadows within the room, easing the door closed behind her.

              Her eyes quickly adjusted to the change in light as she hid behind the heavy drapery. The information about this man had been sketchy at best. Taking time to study one’s prey before alerting them to her presence remained the primary reason she succeeded when so many others failed.

              “I know you’re there, behind the curtain.” His voice carried softly across the room. He stopped in front of a small table, his back to her.

              Arine emerged from behind the curtain, careful not to allow her expression to betray her surprise. “I’ve been sent to give you an alternative.”

              “An alternative? To tomorrow? You obviously don’t know my mother.” He slowly turned to face her. “If she says I’m to marry, I’m to marry.”

              “My Mistress sent me to offer you Sanctuary.” She trod silently across the intervening space, her feet moving more slowly than her heart. Gods, but he was good-looking! Her Mistress didn’t tell her that. Tall and lean, Cavon bore the likeness of his mother. Blonde hair curled slightly at the nape of his neck, blue eyes betraying intelligence. Younger than Arine by at least five years, he was built well for his age. At eighteen, he was barely old enough to be married off.

              “Sanctuary? That’s a dream. It’s the duty of a son to marry for the advancement of the family.” Cavon’s deep voice cracked slightly.

              “Yet it is not your desire, is it? You would stay here, marry the likes of Domine Elsa, and live your life as nothing more than a stud? Be trotted out all dressed up on special occasions? Be given as a treat to those who please her?” Try as she might, Arine couldn’t keep the disgust from her voice. “My Mistress hands you the opportunity of freedom.” She stopped in front of him, close enough to smell the perfumed oils from a bath.

              She watched his face intently, waiting for him to make his decision. She knew how he would decide. The sigh finally escaped him, his head dropped in submission.

              Arine spoke before he could change his mind. “We must move now. Get a dark cloak and some good shoes. It’s cold tonight.” Her hand grasped him firmly on the upper arm, propelling him to action. “Take nothing else. We don’t have time for sentimental items.” She slid up to the balcony door again, surveying the nearby homes for potential witnesses.

              A quick glance over her shoulder told her he was ready. With an imperious gesture, she motioned him to her side. “We go out and up, quickly. Stay close to me at all times. The moons are full tonight, so keep to the shadows.” Without a backward glance, she opened the door and climbed onto the roof in one fluid motion, then reached down to help him before he cleared the door.

              Her eyes rolled skyward with the clatter he made as he followed her. None in the Moreja Sisterhood would be allowed to walk for a week if they made such noise! At least Cinphire had heard her prayer and the moons remained hidden behind the clouds.

              It seemed like hours before the city walls emerged from the shadows. Arine glanced to each side, tracking the movement of the watch. They were both walking away from them. The narrow walkway along the top of the wall was worn smooth from their patrols. “We have to move fast here,” she whispered to Cavon. “We cross the wall, climb into that tree over there,” she gestured with her hand to a massive oak tree. “Once we’re in the tree, move as quickly and quietly down as possible.” Concern crossed his face. “What’s wrong?” she asked him urgently.

              “I’ve never climbed a tree. It looks dangerous.” Cavon swallowed hard.

             
Oh, great
, she thought silently.
He’s been coddled!
Inhaling deeply, she tried to keep the annoyance from her voice. “It’s like going down a flight of very crazy stairs. The steps are uneven, and some won’t hold your entire weight. Think of it as a test of balance.” His eyes brightened at her words. “Stay behind me, step where I step, and you should be fine.” A quick glance reassured her of the guards’ position. She reached out and grabbed his hand before she sprinted across the wall, dragging him behind her.

              The tree proved more difficult than she feared for Cavon. He tried to stop every third branch, fascinated by some insect crawling near his hand or some other nonsense. “Move, damn you!” she hissed through clenched teeth. “If we get caught, Domine Elsa will be the least of your worries!” Shock flashed across his face, followed by understanding.

              Arine lowered herself onto the lowest limb. Her hands gripped it firmly, giving herself time to adjust her balance before dropping to the ground. Her hand shot to the dagger at her waist, her ears alert for the sound of footsteps. A loud thump behind her caused her to spin on her heels. One of her daggers practically flew from the sheath at her
side, ready to throw. She
took in the sight of Cavon, sitting on the ground where he’d fallen from the tree.

              He looked up at her, eyes wide. Slamming the dagger home again, she refrained from chastising him. The road to Sanctuary was long enough for that sort of education.

              Reaching out a hand, she pulled him up off the ground. “We run first, then walk when I decide it’s safe to do so. Keep up.” She didn’t wait for a response.