“Disappointed?”
“Because of what happened—or didn’t happen—on my birthday.”
Tyrnen folded his hands. “No, I am not disappointed. I was certainly surprised, but disappointment never crossed my mind.”
“Mother and Father seemed to be.”
“They said as much during our brief retreat, yes.”
Aidan winced. “Why didn’t you invite me to go along?”
“I didn’t think you were in the mood for company. Your mother’s account of your reaction when she extended an invitation confirmed my assumption.”
Aidan ignored that. “Why weren’t you with them when they returned?”
“I had gone ahead to my tower. There were matters that needed—”
“They came to talk to me after the ceremony. They at least pretended to care. Where were you?”
“I chose not to disturb your pouting session.”
“I was not—”
“You were. You acted like a petulant child. I was on my way to speak with you when I bumped into your father. He told me what happened during his visit, and I decided I had better things to do then visit a whiny brat.”
Aidan took a gulp of cocoa to hide his embarrassment. He
had
acted foolish—then, and now. The cocoa scalded his throat all the way down.
Tyrnen leaned forward. “Your parents love you, my boy. So do I. We just want what’s best for you.”
Aidan nursed his drink and stared into the flames.
“Have you spoken to them about your feelings?” Tyrnen asked.
Aidan nodded. “Earlier tonight after they returned.”
“And what did they say?”
The cup clinked as Aidan lowered it onto his plate. “At first, they looked at me as if they’d never seen me before. The way they treated me, you’d have thought I’d slaughtered all the children in Torel.”
For a moment, Tyrnen wore a sympathetic smile. Then his face abruptly clouded over and his voice became harsh. “Can you blame them?”
Aidan sat back, momentarily stunned. Then anger flushed his cheeks.
“Yes, actually, I can. I was the one rejected by Heritage. I was the one humiliated in front of my people, and visitors from Leaston and Darinia besides. And what did I do? I did what duty required, and I was punished for it. And I’m
still
being punished for it. They didn’t have to be so harsh, and neither do you. Do you think I know what’s happening or
why
it’s happening? Well, I don’t, so give me some time to prepare myself before it happens all over again, would you?”
Tyrnen pursed his lips but said nothing.
Aidan sighed and ran his hands over his face. “I’m sorry for snapping. I’d simply appreciate it if you all remembered that I haven’t any clue why this is happening.”
“They were caught off-guard, you know,” Tyrnen said quietly. “Perhaps even more than you were. It is not every day that a Gairden is rejected by his bloodline.”
Aidan felt his cheeks warm, though not from anger this time. He hadn’t really thought about it like that. It was easy to think of Heritage as just a sword—a magical sword, true, but still an object. And he knew that his ancestors had
seen
what happened during his ceremony. It was something else entirely to know
that they had voted to keep him out of their inner circle. Aidan’s jaw tightened.
His Grandfather Charles, who had been as close to him growing up as Tyrnen was, had been a part of the decision. Ambrose, Anastasia... They all had.
“I am sorry, my boy,” Tyrnen said. “Your attitude perturbed me. I should have thought more about everything you’ve gone through.”
Aidan lifted his cup to his lips, then lowered it. “I told Mother and Father I was sorry for disappointing them, and that I would do anything to prove that I am still worthy of their... trust.”
Of their love
, he’d wanted to say before catching himself. Of course they still loved him.
“They know that,” Tyrnen said. “You simply need to work hard to show them you’ll do what is necessary to fix this...” The old man spread his hands and looked at the ceiling, as if the word he needed was hidden in the stonework. “This unprecedented occurrence.”
Aidan cringed again. He knew Tyrnen hadn’t meant anything by his words. What had happened
was
unprecedented. He didn’t need reminding, though. Then he thought of something.
“The sword is speaking to me,” Aidan said in a low voice.
“The sword is... speaking to you?” Tyrnen said, blinking.
Aidan stiffened. “Don’t use that tone with me, Tyrnen.”
“I didn’t mean to imply anything.” The old man scratched at his chin. “What do you mean the sword is speaking to you?”
“There aren’t a lot of ways to interpret that,” Aidan snapped. He took a calming breath. “I’m sorry. I just don’t understand what’s happening.”
“Start at the beginning,” Tyrnen said in a soothing tone. After drawing a deep breath, Aidan launched into his story. When he finished, he sat back in his chair, took a long drink of cocoa, and closed his eyes, feeling more relaxed since... Well, since before his birthday. It felt good to unburden himself, especially to Tyrnen. He’d never judged Aidan when the prince did something foolish, instead saying that all experiences, no matter how terrible, offered some sort of lesson. Learn that lesson, the old man always said, and remember it.
Tyrnen sat back, tapping his fingertips together. “I believe you.”
“You do?” Aidan said, relieved. “You don’t think I’m mad?”
“Given what you
have
heard, it does seem as if Heritage is communicating with you. But instead of inspecting the
how
of the matter, I feel we should examine the
why
.”
The Eternal Flame began pacing around the tower. After two circuits, he stopped near the hearth and regarded Aidan intently.
“The sword denied you during your ceremony. Yet according to your family’s history, only the sword-bearer is able to communicate with the sword. No records have ever been kept as to how this communication takes place, at least none that I’ve seen. This must be one of the sword’s many secrets known only to Gairdens.”
Aidan nodded in agreement. He’d read his family’s historical account several times. The volume detailing the lives of his predecessors had been required reading material during his mother’s lessons, but Annalyn had told him that many secrets had been left intentionally undocumented. They were to be revealed to a sword-bearer over time, or during the Rite of Heritage.
“But since you are not the sword-bearer,” Tyrnen continued, “why would Heritage reach out to you? Could it be preparing you for a second chance? A rebuff by the sword is an unparalleled event, so there’s no way of knowing for certain, unless... Have you asked the sword why it’s been speaking to you?”
“Not in so many words.”
Tyrnen cocked his head.
“I, ah, I yelled at Heritage, as I recall.”
“You
yelled
at a sword?”
“It made me angry.”
“Even so, Aidan. Yelling at a sword...”
“It finally went quiet, which made me happy.”
Tyrnen resumed pacing, mumbling to himself. The old man sighed after several long minutes, throwing up his hands. “The only reasonable explanation is the sword might give you a second chance. But without any precedents to study...” He shrugged. “I’ve got nothing to go on, though I’ll continue to investigate. If there’s a second chance to become the sword-bearer, I’d say it warrants our full attention, wouldn’t you?” Aidan said nothing.
“Is that what you want?” Tyrnen asked.
“I don’t know.”
Tyrnen nodded, saying nothing more. Aidan could have hugged him. He loved his parents, but giving such a vague, indecisive answer to either of them would have brought on a lecture about responsibility and duty. Tyrnen understood him, could read him like one of his books written in a language that time had forgotten.
“What should we do?” Aidan asked. Tyrnen didn’t answer. He was leaning against the mantle, scrubbing his hands over his face.
Aidan squinted at his friend. “Are you well, Tyrnen?” He felt like a callous fool. He’d been so wrapped up in his own problems that he hadn’t noticed Tyrnen’s pallid complexion.
The old man snorted. “It’s nothing, lad, nothing at all. Just tired.”
Aidan nodded, clearing his throat. “I’m sorry for my earlier outburst.”
“Think nothing of it,” the Eternal Flame said, sinking back into his chair. “I cannot begin to imagine everything that’s going on in your head. Even with your, ah, unpleasant demeanor, I must say you’ve handled all of this better than I would have.”
The old man reached for his mug of cocoa and gave it a dainty sip. His face twisted and he swallowed in one large, gulp. “Bloody thing’s gone cold on me,” he grumbled, drawing a grin from Aidan.
Tyrnen returned his mug to the table, then stared hard at his pupil. “Your parents love you. You must know that.”
Aidan’s grin slipped a bit. “I do. I just don’t want to let them down again.”
“Then don’t. They’ll need you more than ever, I’m afraid.”
“Why? Has something happened?”
“Yes, my boy, something terrible. While we were away—”
A gong went off in the distance, startling both men. Aidan shot from his chair and moved to join Tyrnen at the tower’s window, drawing heat from the fire and placing his hand to the frost to clear it away. The Lady’s first rays peeked shyly through the clouds. Below, Wardsmen adorned in full plate mail were pouring across the courtyard.
“It’s happening, then,” Tyrnen said quietly.
“What do you mean? What’s happening?”
But Tyrnen was already moving. Aidan caught up to his mentor as they ran down the steps of the tower, falling in with the Wardsmen crossing the grounds. They cut their way through the throng and slipped into Sunfall through a side door. Inside, Aidan saw Daniel hustling through the corridor. He pushed his way across and reached out to snag the Wardsman by the arm.
“What’re you...?” Daniel said, then gave an apologetic glance.
“Sorry,” he said, his voice raw. “Everything’s
happening so fast.”
“
What
is happening?” Aidan said.
Daniel swallowed. “War.”
Chapter 9
War
R
OWS OF
W
ARDSMEN COVERED
head to toe in gleaming mail thundered through Sunfall’s south gate, boots rising and falling in perfect step. Daniel, Aidan, and Tyrnen cut ahead of the first lines flowing toward the throne room and ducked behind the open doors.
“They haven’t told us much,” Daniel said as he removed a gauntlet and wiped a line of sweat from his brow. “Brendon came into the barracks not less than fifteen minutes ago, shouting to don full armor and march to the throne room. I was just on my way in here for my shift when he gave the order.”
Aidan ran a hand through his hair.
Full armor
, he thought, dazed. “You said something about war.”
“I’ve told you all I know. I suspect we’ll learn details shortly.” Bowing to both, he replaced his gauntlet and took his place to one side of the doorway.
Still reeling, Aidan turned to see his parents sitting on their thrones. Brendon knelt between the royal couple; the three had their heads together, exchanging furtive whispers. Hands of the Crown dressed in brocaded robes climbed the spiral staircases and took seats in the galleries.
“What’s going on?” Aidan said to Tyrnen. “Before we rushed down here, you said something is happening.”
“You will find out soon enough,” the old man said. “I’m only sorry I didn’t get a chance to explain things earlier.” He led Aidan to his place by the Crown of the North, then moved to stand beside Edmund’s throne. Folding his arms, Aidan watched columns of Wardsmen flow into the room, splitting as they crossed the threshold to line both walls with white steel.
Then a flock of men and women wearing emerald-colored robes entered, like leaves mixing with the snow-white mail of the Wardsmen.
“Torel’s Dawn,” he breathed.
Commissioned by the Gairden family from the Eternal Flame for use in Torel’s Ward, the realm’s most elite battle mages—five men, five women—wore forest-colored robes that flowed down over their boots, giving the impression that they floated across the floor. Crimson sashes stretched from their right shoulders down to a red sash around the mid-section. In the center of the waistband was a patch depicting a sword set against a golden orb.
Aidan blinked. Torel’s Dawn was made up of ten Touched, yet he counted only eight.
At last the room was lined with Wardsmen. Every man fell to one knee. Daniel and another Wardsman rose first, moving in unison to swing the doors closed.
Annalyn, stunning in cream-colored robes and sapphire earrings, stood and stepped forward.
“We have all been fortunate to enjoy one of the longest stretches of peace in recorded history—a stretch that, several days ago, came to an abrupt and violent end.” She paused, letting her words sink in. Wardsmen, trained to stare forward even if fire tickled at their toes, exchanged frowns. The galleries broke out in nervous mutters. Aidan swallowed. War, Daniel had said. He’d read about them, studied them. But wars had been words in history books, names and dates he had been forced to recite.
“The morning after my son’s birthday, my husband and I decided to depart with Eternal Flame Tyrnen Symorne on a brief retreat,” Annalyn continued. “We had much to discuss, the most important matter being a way to assist Prince Aidan in dealing with his...” She turned to regard the prince, who lowered his eyes to the floor. “With his unforeseen circumstances.” Finally the assemblage hushed, waiting for her to go on.
“We decided to make camp in the vast expanse of forest that surrounds Lake Carrean, where we intended to discuss Aidan’s... unique situation.”
Aidan flushed—then blinked. Hadn’t his parents told him that they would be staying at the Lion’s Den? That was in Sharem, the largest trade city in Crotaria divided equally between the three realms and what little remained of Sallner. Why had they instead journeyed to Lake Carrean, which was further east? His mother’s next words blasted away his thoughts.
“In the forest, we came upon the carcasses of the mounts that carried Romen of the Wolf and his beloved, lying near a cluster of rocks at the lake’s shore.”