Hope (15 page)

"I’ll send a woman down to collect the mare tonight," Lanclor said as he dropped one coin into Junten's palm. "You’ll receive the rest of the gold upon delivery. Good day, Master Junten." He gave him no time to object and left him standing there with his mouth partially open. With the proper spells, he could at least make the mare quiet enough so she could bear a few foals. With her attributes, her foals would fetch a fair price.

The next day, he decided to drop by and see what the mare looked like under all of that filth. He was about to ask the knight stable master where she was stalled when he heard a curse and a whinny.

"That damn horse is monstrous!" A groom backed out of a stall a few yards away nursing a bloody arm. He saw Lanclor watching him and explained, "I was only trying to give her some fresh grain and she took a chunk out of my arm! I didn’t even do anything to her!"

Lanclor looked into the stall of the "monstrous" horse and held his breath. The filthy mare now gleamed. Her white coat, mane and tail shone while her black muzzle, speckled with the groom’s blood, matched her black stockings. She gave him a challenging stare, but didn’t seem overly aggressive. He walked toward the door of her stall and he could tell she didn’t know what to make of him.

He reached out to stroke her muzzle. She surprised him by clamping down on his arm. Luckily, he wore armor, but he had moved quickly away from her after her attack. That was strange; a horse had bitten him before and he had never retreated afterward. He couldn’t seem to gather his courage to approach her again and decided he would need to find a knight who would be able to work with her so he could learn more about her.

Lanclor had been working on the supply lists with growing irritation for the past few hours. They had a surplus of supplies that had been growing over the past few cycles. The number of new recruits was a fraction of the number of recently killed knights. A knock on the door only added to his annoyance.

"Enter."

Hal was a tall man, only slightly shorter than he was. Hal's fighting skills were remarkable. All of his instructors complimented his skills. His magic skills left a lot to be desired. Kathryn,
Lady
Kathryn, was average in her fighting ability, but some of her magic instructors suspected that she was trying to hide her magical aptitude. Complete opposites.

Lady Kathryn's casting of spells without uttering a sound made them all question their knowledge of how magic occurred. Some of the instructors had wanted to approach her on the matter to find out how she accomplished it, but had agreed to wait until her wings had Declared. If only she would explain what had happened that day in the practice ring.

"I’m sorry to bother you, Sir Lanclor, but I wasn’t sure who else to ask." Hal was a confident man on the practice field, but it seemed as if he lost that confidence every time he spoke with Lanclor.

"You’re not bothering me, knight. What’s the question?"

"I’m concerned about Lady Kathryn. She’s refused to leave her room for over three days now. I can’t even convince her to open her door. She hasn’t attended any drills in that time, which is unlike her since she takes her training seriously. For her suddenly to refuse to attend the sessions, it worries me. I asked if she wanted to see a healer, but she said she wasn’t ill. Could you perhaps speak with her? Maybe she’ll respond to someone with authority."

It wasn’t unheard of, though rare, that a knight failed after acceptance into the Knighthood. In those cases, the instructors witnessed the knight’s decline and the failure wasn’t surprising, but no instructors had complained about Lady Kathryn. They knew her to be a quiet, but competent learner. He was curious to find out what her problem involved.

"I’ll speak to her, but I’ll speak to her alone. Perhaps the problem involves something she doesn’t wish to share with someone from Earth. I’ll let you know what I find out, if she wants that information shared. I’ll talk to her this evening after the meal."

"I appreciate it, Sir Lanclor." Hal saluted and left the room.

After the evening meal, Sir Lanclor climbed the stairs in the North Wing. He stood in the Earthling’s common room in front of Lady Kathryn’s door and knocked, awaiting a response.

"Who is it?" Lady Kathryn’s muffled reply leaked through the thick door.

"Sir Lanclor. I’d like to speak with you face to face."

There were a few seconds of hesitation, then a response. "Just a moment, Sir Lanclor."

The moment lasted almost a full minute. He had forgotten how a minute sometimes felt like an hour. Lady Kathryn finally opened the door and stood helmet less in a long cloak. It was alarming to see an entire human face of someone who was not a Grounded. Lady Kathryn’s appearance was anything but common. In a world of dark-haired and dark-eyed people, Lady Kathryn’s light brown hair and gray eyes were startling.

"Please come in Sir Lanclor." She said with a stiff salute.

He entered her room and left the door open as honor demanded. "I didn’t realize the weather was so horrible outside today. In fact, I was thinking earlier about taking a rest from my paperwork to go for a ride on such a fine day." The statement hung in the air like an executioner’s ax.

Surprise, anger, and then resignation passed over her face. He again appreciated always wearing a helmet
.
She removed her cloak to reveal her armor and wings.

"By the Goddess!" Lanclor stepped backward.

Staring into his eyes with a challenging look, she spread her stark white wings. Her armor was just a shade lighter than her wings. He’d never seen anything like it before. Normally, a new knight would Declare after about two cycles, one in rare cases, but always a gray or brown. Even those who were Soulbearers were graywings or brownwings first.

In Lanclor's case, he was a brownwing before his wings turned midnight black. He’d been worried that he’d failed being a brownwing and had converted back to the dark gray of an Undeclared until he stood next to an Undeclared and saw that his wings were shades darker. In all of the histories, there was no record of a white-winged knight.

"I don’t know what this means, Sir Lanclor, but I hope you can tell me?" Her challenging look turned to one of uncertainty. He could imagine what she was going through. The pain of not knowing where you belonged in the Knighthood could be significant.

"When did this happen?"

"About three days ago. I woke up one morning and they were just like this, although my armor was still dark at that time. I noticed it lightening as the day wore on. By the evening meal, it was the color it is now. I was afraid to go out like this. I didn’t know if it meant something on this world, something bad."

"I’m not sure what it means, but I’m sure it’s not something bad." The only color a new knight feared to wield was the cursed black he now wore. While he was the Bearer of one of the most skilled knights in history, that knight had another reputation. "Have you noticed any unexplained abilities, glimpses of a past life?"

He saw her hesitation. "I have many abilities, but those occurred before I entered the Knighthood. My Sights seem to happen more often. I also seem to have a knack with spells."

She had to be a Soulbearer. "Why have you not told us about your Sights?"

"I don’t know. I guess I was afraid that they’d end up just being dreams. My off-worlder reputation would be tarnished with madness." She began pacing the room, occasionally glancing at him to hold the conversation. "On my world, if you go around claiming you can see the future in dreams, you’d be locked away in a mental ward or you’d have your own 900 number."

He had no idea what a
900 number
was, but he understood her reasoning. "I think you should still share your dreams with someone. They may just
be
dreams, but if they aren’t, they may help us win this war or avoid many deaths. What do you mean by a ‘knack with spells?’ Is a ‘knack’ a good thing?"

She smiled at his ignorance of her common terms. "I have a gift with spells. I usually can cast a spell on my first try. When I can’t, it usually means it’s misspelled in the book. I sometimes have to make revisions to the book." Looking embarrassed, she stopped. "I mean no offense, Sir Lanclor, but some of the spells in the advanced books are not spelled right. After I correct the spelling, I can cast the spell without a problem."

"Which spells have you revised? I know you have access to the library, and every knight is encouraged to take a look at the more advanced spells, although I don’t think you should be changing anything in the books." Lanclor forced himself to stand in one spot. He wanted to pace, but both of them pacing at the same time wouldn't be appropriate.

"I don’t actually change anything in the book; I just write down the spell in my parchment book as I think it should be written and reference the book with the problem. Let me get my parchment and I’ll show you." She went to her desk and returned with a small parchment book. The book was about an inch think. "Most of the spells are from the same book." She opened it and offered it to him.

Her writing was neat with notations in English. The first spell surprised him as it was definitely from the Lost Spells book. The spell of Communication was one of the most sought-after lost spells in the book. With that spell, officers could communicate with their knights using a type of telepathy.

In flight, many verbal commands were lost in the wind. This spell was lost to them over a century ago with the unexpected death of an entire battalion and their instructors in the Barrens. While the knights thought the spell was safe in the texts, the scribe apparently spelled it wrong, thus the pronunciation was lost. "Have you successfully used this spell?"

"Yes. It’s a simple spell. I used it on Hal and he complained I was ‘talking’ too loud, but I haven’t had a chance to try it again to attempt to tone it down. I could try it with you if you’d like, Sir Lanclor."

His curiosity had to be satisfied. "I’d like you to try if you’re up to it. It’s a spell that has been lost too long."

She smiled, seeming to think about what she would say. He was waiting for her lips to move with the incantation when she looked up at him.

I’m not sure what you’d like me to say, Sir Lanclor. I hope I’m not shouting at you. I think I’ve found out how to control the volume of the spell. I’m sure you’re the only one who can hear me. I’d have to experiment more to find out how to send messages out to large groups of people.

Lanclor smile beneath his helmet and his mind raced with the implications of the Communication spell resurfacing. They could coordinate their attacks more effectively.

"Did you hear all of that?" she asked aloud with eager curiosity.

"Yes, I did, and no, you weren’t shouting. If you don’t mind, I’d like you to speak to some of the instructors about your findings. I’m sure they would be fascinated to see what other spells you’ve re-discovered. You need to keep up with your training. Your wing color is nothing to be ashamed of, although it’s a unique color. People will stare, but they’ll not think less of you." Quite the opposite, they’d think she was a Soulbearer.

"Yes, Sir. I’ll resume my training tomorrow. Thank you for taking the time to speak with me." She looked thoughtful, but he had no doubt she would indeed return to her training.

"I look forward to learning more about the spells you’ve ‘corrected’ from the library. Be safe, Lady Kathryn." He gave her a quick nod and left the room.

As he was walking down the hall to return to his workroom, he realized that he had spoken to Lady Kathryn as he would have spoken to a Lady Instructor, an equal. He had even nodded to her as a sign of respect. He must be getting old if he so quickly forgot that Lady Kathryn was a mere first-cycle knight. Lanclor would have to notify Lord Alextor about her color change. There was no doubt in his mind that she was a Soulbearer. The question was, whom would she Bear?

Kathryn returned to her studies about three weeks ago. The other knights, surprised with her change of color, were only curious about how long it took to happen. She saw a few jealous looks that she contributed to those who would give anything to have the extra attention.