Origin (8 page)

As Ayron entered the hut, he became aware of the smell of herbs as they mingled with that of clean linen. It was obvious that the woman living here took pride in her home. The main living area was spotless. There were sheer lacy curtains at the windows, tied back with bright yellow ribbons. There was also a vase of yellow wild flowers sitting on a table. The floor was swept free of dirt and was covered with a braided rug that he was certain had been handmade by the women herself. It was a collaboration of bright and soft shades of yellow, brown, and green. On one wall were several frames containing pressed dried flowers that formed a collage of color that complimented the colors in the rug. Handmade quilts in cheerful colors decorated two of the other walls. His men had moved most of the furnishings from the center of the room and put them up against the walls. Rhys was lying on a cot that had been placed in the middle of the room to give the healers access to him from all sides.

As Ayron approached, he noticed that Rhys’ eyes were closed and hoped the injured man wasn’t unconscious. If that was the case and they had to wait to speak with him, he would have no choice but to bring Elwyn here as well. For some reason, that option didn’t feel right to him. He was sure, if she saw Rhys, she would fight even harder to remain here with him and he felt in his gut that would be wrong. However, as he drew closer to the bed, Rhys opened eyes that were cold, filled with anger, and just radiating hostility in his direction. Ayron knew that, for some reason, he was on trial. The question was, for what?

Clayre warned Ayron that Rhys was very weak while they were speaking outside the hut. Ayron, trying to spare Rhys as much exertion as possible, jumped right in and began to speak, hoping to share his plan with the two of them. First though, he wanted to be sure that Rhys knew who he was. “Do you know who I am, Rhys”, he asked as quietly as he could.

Rhys shook his head and said in a soft whisper, “I recognize you now, Ayron. I mistook you for your brother Azavon at first glance.”

Ayron could sense stress coming from the strong emotions churning within Rhys and wanted to calm him, so that he didn’t weaken himself further.

“Rhys, I know that you must have many questions, as do I, about what occurred so long ago. But, for the sake of Clayre and Elwyn, I would ask that you table them for a short while. Both of these women are in grave danger, and I think that our first priority must be to get them to safety.”

Ayron heard a gasp from Clayre, who was standing right behind him. From what he knew of her, she was probably feeling very indignant right now. Ayron knew, though, that if he appealed to Rhys based on the danger that he was in, it would fall upon deaf ears. Rhys was and had always been all about family.

“We will have our time to talk Rhys, but for now I need you to listen to my plan. Neither of these women are willing to go anywhere without your say so.” Rhys nodded smiling weakly, and Ayron continued.

“The men that came to your village today were assassins sent by Stefan. They weren’t just looking for you Rhys; they were also searching for Elwyn. Somehow, Stefan must have gotten word that you were here and sent someone to check things out. Have you noticed any strangers passing through over the past month or two?”

Rhys weakly shook his head. “Yes elf, about five weeks ago two strangers came through and needed my services. One of them told me his horse threw a shoe. I shod the horse, they paid me, and then left the village. I remember thinking it strange that they seemed reluctant to answer any of my questions, but spent the time while I was shoeing the horse asking me and my niece a ton of them.”

“I have a feeling those two men were sent to gather information from the village. When the men described you and Elwyn, Stefan probably put the pieces together, and decided he had to take action. From what I hear he is even more paranoid now then he was when he had your family assassinated and usurped the throne all those seasons ago.”

Ayron paused a moment as Keroc informed him of the attack on Elwyn’s life. He projected an image of Elwyn and Thane so that Ayron would know that the danger had passed, at least for the moment. He then continued his conversation with Rhys.

“The fact that this attempt on your lives failed, may only spur Stefan to take greater measures. I fear he will resort to sending a shadow squad, Rhys.” Ayron waited for this to sink in, not totally sure how Rhys’ weakened physical condition was affecting his mind. “I am fairly certain that Clayre is in danger as well, because she has been seen with you and knows more about the two of you than anyone else in the village. I think you know that Stefan wouldn’t hesitate to capture and torture her to find out what she knows.”

“What is your plan, elf? How would you protect those that I love?” Rhys said harshly. “If history is any measure, you don’t have a very good track record. So why should I trust you now?”

“Rhys, I know to expect you to trust me is asking for a lot and I wish I had more time to explore what happened those many seasons ago, but I have to act quickly. There are three facts however, that I think you should consider while making the decision whether or not to hear me out,” Ayron said in a harsh whisper. “The first is that both Azavon and I were in Grimsfyne when Rhianna fled Silvendil. The second is that when we returned, it was to the news that Rhianna committed suicide and was buried in the little cemetery just west of Findara. The third is that Azavon has never remarried and has mourned the loss of his beloved wife and unborn child for the past sixteen seasons. He has been unable to move on from that tragedy.” The tears in Ayron’s eyes as he spoke mirrored those that welled up in Rhys. Ayron didn’t know why, but he could tell that Rhys understood Azavon’s pain.

“Alright elf,” he grumbled, as if embarrassed by his own emotional display. “Tell us your plan.”

Ayron told Rhys and Clayre that he and his men planned to take them to the village of Amarni in the land of Urafiki, where they would be guarded by some of his own men and the Amarani, the fierce warriors of Urafiki. Silvendil and Urafiki had a strong treaty and a personal bond of friendship and respect that had remained unbroken for many seasons. Once they reached Amarni and were settled in, he and a few of his soldiers would leave them and ride to join Thane and Elwyn, who would be traveling north toward Silvendil.

Rhys and Clayre were both reluctant to agree to a plan where Elwyn would end up separated from them, but Ayron explained that there had already been an attempt to assassinate her in the village and if they split up, she might actually be in less danger. Unless Stefan had a spy in the village watching them at this moment, Ayron believed that he would most likely assume that they were all together and strike where he knew Ayron’s men had gone. Ayron also confessed that he had a personal reason for sending Elwyn north so quickly. By birth, she was the future ruler of Silvendil and once she entered its lands, Ayron could enlist many different resources to protect her. To his surprise, convincing Rhys was easy, but Ayron found that it took a rather heated discussion on the part of both men to convince Clayre to go along with the plan. Ayron assured Rhys and Clayre that he planned to send Keroc along with Elwyn and Thane so that he could keep tabs on their progress. He explained how he could stay in contact with them by using his bond with the drakenhawk. The agreement between them finally struck, Rhys asked for a few moments to confer with Clayre.

Ayron stepped outside to allow Rhys and Clayre some privacy. While waiting for Clayre, he communicated to Keroc his intention to return to the stand of trees where Elwyn and Thane waited. He was a little concerned about the rather chaotic images that flashed in his mind from Keroc. He communicated with Keroc again, conveying his thoughts as slowly and clearly as possible. Keroc was young and still got confused rather easily. “It was going to be a rough couple of days for the drakenhawk,” Ayron thought to himself. “Keroc was very inexperienced to be taking on such a difficult assignment.” His thoughts were interrupted as Clayre joined him outside the hut. She asked for time to notify the village elder of her plan to leave, to pack Elwyn’s things, and to gather a few items that Rhys requested she take along to his niece. She also requested permission to bring along Elwyn’s horse for her to ride, so that she would have something that was familiar to her as she traveled. Ayron agreed with all the requests. After cautioning her not to pack too much, he sent Stuart, another one of his soldiers, to help her. Clayre assured him that she would meet them at the stand of trees in about thirty minutes.

Ayron nodded, jumped up on Gerrack, and quickly headed back to speak with Elwyn. His mind was still swimming with unanswered questions. Ayron knew it was important for him to focus on getting Rhys, Elwyn, and Clayre out of harm’s way, but it was difficult to not think about how today revelations would impact those he loved the most. He wasn’t even sure how to break the news of Elwyn’s existence to his brother. Her appearance definitely brought up some serious questions that needed answers.

“Enough,” he said to himself. “I need to get back to the business at hand.” With that said, Ayron tried very hard to focus on what was facing him over the next few days. It was going to be very difficult to protect the three of them. His men were loyal and strong, but there were only a dozen of them, and he was the only one who had ever come up against a shadow squad. As he drew close to where he’d left Elwyn, he heard voices arguing and Keroc screeching loudly. He sighed heavily at having to tell Thane and Keroc that they were on babysitting duty for the next few days. He also wasn’t sure that he was ready to break the news to the young soldier, who looked more than a bit distraught, that the young woman who was screaming at him at the top of her lungs was his future ruler.

T
hane was thunderstruck. He realized immediately that his misguided attempt at humor had failed miserably. It was obvious to him that the young woman standing before him had no idea what he was talking about.

“I’m sorry Elwyn, I must have been mistaken. It’s just that sometimes elves, who are another race of people in the Known Lands, are very talented archers. Please wait a few minutes more for Ayron to return. I’m sure he’ll be along shortly.”

Thane struggled for a safe topic that would, at least temporarily, take Elwyn’s mind off leaving. “This is Raffe, my best friend and constant companion,” Thane said hoping to distract her a bit longer.

Elwyn moved closer to where Thane stood with his hand on Raffe, reached up, and scratched his neck. Raffe pawed at the ground and blew a gentle greeting in her direction.

“I’ve never seen Raffe take to another person like that,” said Thane, trying hard not to appear shocked at what he’d just witnessed. “While our mounts are seldom vicious, they are usually pretty standoffish with everyone but their own riders.”

“Oh, there is nothing special about the fact that your horse took to me. All animals seem to like me. Most of the horses in the village gentle to my touch. My uncle is the village blacksmith, and I’ve spent most of my life around horses of all breeds and dispositions. Actually, my most difficult challenge was with my mare Gemma, who refused all my attempts to become friends for over a season. But we worked things out and she is now my best friend and constant companion, like Raffe is yours. We go everywhere together. In fact, if she were not locked in a stall, she would probably be nosing around us right now; she always seems to know how to find me.”

Thane could sense her relax as she continued to stroke Raffe’s neck and spoke of her own horse. He was sure that talking about something familiar was helping her to relax, although why Raffe was tolerating it, was beyond his comprehension. Thane felt sure that Raffe could understand what Elwyn was saying and feeling, and was being tolerant because he realized that she knew no better.

“Our mounts aren’t really horses, although they are closely related to them. They are a similar breed of animal known as morden. The original breeders of the morden are the Amarani of Urafiki. They are a nation of people that live further down the coast, than Port Strabo. They are a large race, and it takes an animal as large as a morden to carry them about. The morden come in many colors like their equine relatives, but the stallions with the purest bloodlines are black, while the purest of the mares are snowy white. Most of the morden you see among us are stallions. The only time a mare rides in battle is when one of our females feels led to ride with the army; and that is not very often.”

“So your people are against woman using their physical skills too. That is true in my village as well. Our elder believes that a woman is only fit to keep a house and bear children.”

“No, no, Elwyn, that isn’t what I meant at all. Obviously I didn’t explain myself clearly. Our young women are schooled and trained right alongside our young men and both are equally welcomed into any profession, including the military if they choose to serve. In fact, there is a woman among us today searching for the rest of Crawley’s men. It isn’t that our women don’t fight to defend our land, but they are far better archers than most of our men. Women are often found as snipers and in other elevated positions that provide them with the best vantage point from which to fight, rather than mounted close to the ground on morden or horses.

What makes morden so different from horses is that they choose their riders. It is not the other way around, so not all of us ride them. Many of us are mounted on well bred war horses.”

“You mean your hors…, I mean morden choose you? How do they do that?”

“When a morden is ready to choose a rider, there is a person in our society known as a Companionkeeper who organizes a Choosing. It is a ceremony and all unbonded riders are welcome to attend. We actually present ourselves to the morden during this time, hoping to be chosen.”

“I’m surprised that your people put such significance in what they ride. What makes the Morden so special?”

“There is much more to a morden than meets the eye. The morden have a life-span much longer than a human. And when a rider is chosen by a morden, the two form a life-bond. This bond allows for an exchange of feelings and knowledge with a minimum of interaction. The bond remains unbroken until one of them dies. We also believe that the morden can understand everything that we say and often respond to us based on what we say to them.