Bear Knight, page 4
Where are you, Connor, she thought, raising the hammer for another futile strike. When are you coming home?
5
CONNOR
KELEDEV
MOUNT JUSTICE LAKE
Connor blinked against the brighter sunlight of an upper vale in the Celestial Peaks, knee-deep in the frigid waters of Mount Justice Lake.
The colors always seemed sharper on this side of the barrier, as if none could know the truth of them until they passed through a hollow tree portal into Keledev. He imagined it might feel the same, only a thousand times so, when he finally stood upon the green hills of Elamhavar.
“Welcome, my new brehna,” Teegan said, wrapping Elisai in a hug, “to Keledev. Welcome to the Liberated Land.”
Before Connor could add a welcome of his own, he felt the cold air heating up. Master Belen had taught them some of the ways of portal travel in the Maker’s creation. The impending arrival of any form, even one of the Elder Folk, disturbed the surrounding air, causing heat. The larger the creature, the greater the displacement and the more heat created.
The air now felt downright hot despite the cold of the lake.
Teegan widened her eyes at Connor. “Would the Rescuer allow a giant to pass through the barrier by swallowing a hollow tree?”
“I don’t know. Move!”
They tried to drag Elisai out of the water, but the air burst behind them, knocking all three onto their faces in shallows.
Connor rolled over to see a large form arriving, but not nearly so huge as the giant.
“Dag,” Teegan said with a wide grin.
The big miner touched two fingers to his deep brown forehead and then frowned. “Why must these lakes always be so cold?”
He was not alone. Lee also appeared, and between them a man, woman, and three children materialized. Five people, hence the heat from the portal.
Connor stood up to shake the water from his cloak and frowned at Lee. “This was supposed to be a scouting mission. Remember?”
“I could say the same to you, my friend.” Lee lifted his chin toward Elisai. “Couldn’t leave him?”
“No.”
“Just as we couldn’t leave these few once they’d opened their eyes.”
The youngest of the children, a little girl, shivered, and Connor beckoned with his crook. “Come out of the water. All of you. We’ve still a long journey ahead before reaching the academy, and there’s business to attend to first.”
“Should we build a fire?” the little girl asked.
He smiled. “Oh yes.”
Connor and the other cadets led their charges up a narrow path to a ridge above the Mount Justice pines. At the southern end stood a tower built from the white stone of its mountain host, topped with a faceted crystal half-globe and a shining copper-colored reflector.
“We’ll build your fire there,” Connor said, bending low to address the little girl and pointing with his crook to the tower’s upper battlement. “But there isn’t much room—just enough for Teegan and I and three others, as long as they’re small. Would you and your brehnan like to come?”
The parents nodded their assent, and the children joined Connor and Teegan in the climb to the tower’s top. Together, they built a fire in the stone pit between the copper reflector and the crystal collector. Soon the fire raged. He bid the children stand well back.
Together, Connor and Teegan rotated the platform. The wheels beneath gave no hint of grinding, though the tower was ages old. Twice they directed the fireglass collector away from its mark and back again.
“Two flashes,” Connor said. “One for the returning lightraiders . . .”
Teegan released her grip on the platform’s arm and took in a breath. “And one for those they rescued.”
After dousing the fire, they gathered the children at the front of the battlements and waited. Far below, where the low clouds resting on the chestnuts and pines began, they saw an answering flash, and then another.
Connor laughed. “Isn’t that a wonderful sight.”
The spring had thawed the passage through Anvil Ridge, shortening the cadets’ homeward journey by more than a day. Even so, twilight had come by the time they crossed the glade above the Forest of Believing. The giant colorful figures in the academy’s gate towers shone bright, lit by the braziers inside.
Elisai caught up to Connor at the head of the company. “Who are they?”
“Elder Folk, the Aropha or First Ones. Those are great statues of semi-precious stone carved by the hands of a long-ago people. The winged figure with the downturned sword and the stern garnet countenance represents the Lisropha—the Aropha warrior class. The other, offering water made of pure blue opal, represents the Aropha servant class, called Rapha.”
“The Elder Folk had an underclass of servants?”
“Not an underclass. A class who loved caring for others. The Rapha served all kinds, not just their own, in the same way that the Lisropha defended all the High One’s children and the Dynapha sang his praises on behalf of all creation. They served, fought, and worshiped for the pleasure of the Maker.”
Connor lifted his eyes above the fire collectors at the top of each tower to the many lantern-lit windows of Ras Telesar. When he’d first arrived here, the rising jumbled levels of the fortress had been cold and dark, a result of the Lightraider Order being disbanded for two generations. Now that the headmaster and the guardians had begun rebuilding the ranks, the passages were warm and welcoming—alive with new recruits. Connor looked forward to the hearth in the Salar Peroth, the Hall of Manna, and a cup of Glimwick’s brambleberry cider. The old Black Feather innkeep’s cider had become a frequent blessing now that he’d come north to work the academy’s kitchens as his family had in generations past.
But such comforts had to wait. Tiran greeted Teegan, his twin, and Connor beneath the open gate with a clasp of Connor’s arm and a grim look. “Welcome home, Brehna. You’re wanted on the ninth level.”
“I assume the cadet watch saw the two flashes.”
“Yes, and the whole fortress is buzzing with the thrill of the first rescued Aladoth since the rekindling of the Order, but that’s not why you’ve been summoned.”
Connor gave Teegan a slight nod, and she took charge of their guests. She turned them toward the outfitter’s chamber in the lower bulwarks. “Let’s find you some clothes and gear before we take you up to your rooms, shall we?”
Heading the opposite direction, Tiran and Connor took a staircase cut from the second-level wall, the start of the long climb to the headmaster’s chambers. “If Master Jairun’s not angry with us for turning a scouting mission into a rescue,” Connor said, “then what is this about?”
“Stradok. He’s at it again.”
Councilor Stradok—the Assembly representative to the Lightraider Order, a new and not entirely welcome permanent guest at Ras Telesar.
Tiran gave Connor no more details than that, reminding him that Master Jairun had warned the cadets to keep their opinions to themselves when it came to the Assembly or its leadership in the Prime Council, to which Stradok reported. But it was no secret that both had made interference in the headmaster’s governance a habit. With or without details from Tiran, Connor knew he’d be walking into a battle nearly as perilous as the tussle with the giant.
He steered the conversation elsewhere. “You said the fortress is buzzing about the new Keledan, but they weren’t the first to cross the barrier since we lit the braziers.”
“True.” Tiran paused on the ramparts of the fourth level to dab his forehead with a tattered kerchief—not to deal with the wound he’d sustained on his last visit to Tanelethar. It had never fully healed. “But Kara had a hand in the rekindling. She helped us close the dragon’s portal. The new recruits and the townsfolk who’ve come to labor at the fortress—even Glimwick—see her as one of us.”
“I wonder if Kara sees herself that way.”
Tiran started up the next flight of stairs. “Perhaps you can ask her. She was summoned to the headmaster’s chambers too.”
What did Stradok want with Kara?
They found her crying when they reached the ninth level, seated on the stone pavers with her back against the ramparts, cloak wrapped around her knees, hood pulled down over her platinum hair. Whatever Stradok wanted to say to her, he’d already said it.
Kara looked up at Connor as if he was her only advocate in all Keledev. “It’s about time you came home. I won’t go. Do you hear? I won’t. Don’t let them make me.”
6
Tiran remained outside on the ramparts to keep Kara company, leaving Connor to enter the headmaster’s chambers alone.
Ages ago, when the four concentric walls of Ras Telesar had crowned a green hill as an Aropha temple, these chambers were part of the outermost rampart, perhaps the lodgings of a Lisropha watchman, a member of the Elder Folk warrior class, much larger than men. Master Jairun had filled its two Lisropha-size rooms with human shelves and desks cluttered with parchments, candles, and old texts, giving it the look of a place caught between worlds.
“Councilor Stradok,” Connor said with a deferential nod as he closed the door.
Stradok, dressed in his usual crimson robes, did not turn. He kept his balding head level, eyes focused on Master Jairun, only acknowledging Connor with a single word. “Cadet.”
Master Jairun came out from behind a centuries-old canted desk. “My boy. It’s good to have you home.” He lifted a jar of balm from one of his many shelves and turned Connor’s chin to expose his wounded cheek to the lantern light. “You saw battle. Ore creatures? Golmogs?”
“A forest giant.”
“Then I assume this cut came from a rock fragment.”
“Yes, Headmaster. The creature hurled stones pulled from its own body. One burst upon a boulder near me. Not long after, we tried to send the thing to its end in a river gorge, but it survived.”
“Giants are notoriously resilient.” Master Jairun pursed his lips. “And I’m sorry you had to face such danger on a mission I gave you. None of you are cadet scouts yet. Not officially. But you’ve passed the Five Quests, so I’ll stand by the risk of sending you into Tanelethar. We must learn what trouble the dragons are brewing for us.”
Always the renewer first and the head of the Order second—Master Jairun dipped his smallest finger in the balm and rubbed it into the cut, making Connor wince, then stepped back to assess the result. “Tell Mister Lee he did well in patching you up on the way home from the lakes. Check the wound hourly for the next two days. If the giant’s infection sets in, you must deal with it quickly. I’ll give you a passage from the Rescuer’s words to meditate upon as a preventative measure.”
“Ahem.” A cough from Stradok drew their attention. “Headmaster, could we please return to the discussion at hand. Time is short. I must send my answer to the Assembly tonight, and the girl must pack. She has a long, twelve-day journey ahead of her.”
“The answer,” Master Jairun said, returning the balm to its place on the shelf, “is no. As such, Miss Orso has no journey for which to pack, long, short, or otherwise.”
“Headmaster, please.” Stradok’s tone spoke of disdain rather than pleading. “We’ve waited a year and more. Rumors of an impending dragon invasion have spread throughout Keledev, thanks in no small part to your own unsanctioned letters to the five vales. The people are on the edge of panic.”
Connor risked an interruption—not proper for a cadet stalwart, or even a cadet scout, but he needed to catch up to the conversation. “Pardon me, Councilor, but why do rumors and panic require Kara to make a journey?”
The assemblyman shot him a sidelong glance. “The girl was Aladoth, rescued on the same mission that closed the portal. She represents hope amid the terror.” He returned his gaze to Master Jairun. “She represents victory.”
“For whom?” Master Jairun asked. “The Keledev or the Rescuer?”
“Both, from a practical point of view.”
“A valid argument, sir. But I’m afraid my answer is unchanged. Miss Orso is quite busy preparing for the Turning of the Spheres. She has less than a month to complete the Five Quests if she wishes to advance with the cadets who brought her home.”
“The spheres.” Stradok gave him a wry chuckle. “The Lightraider Spheres belong to an age when the Order was full grown and hundreds strong. Right now, it’s barely breathing—an infant reborn. Last I checked, you don’t have enough guardians of the light to lead them all.”
“I govern the Order. Leadership of the spheres is my concern.”
“True. And the needs of the Keledan are mine. Right now, the Keledan need that girl to—”
“Kara.” Connor did his best to keep his voice even. “Her name is Kara.”
Stradok sighed. “Master Jairun, why is this cadet even here?”
“I’m here, sir, because the headmaster trusts my judgment.”
Master Jairun raised a cautioning finger. “Careful, Mister Enarian. You’re here because I want you to go in Kara’s place.”
In her place?
Before Connor could protest, Stradok did it for him. “That is not what the Assembly asked for.” He stomped his foot. “Unacceptable.”
“I . . . agree?” Connor cast a glance at the assemblyman. “I mean, I don’t think either I or Kara should go. Master Jairun, the spheres. The cadets must prepare. All of us.”
“Kara must prepare. The rest of you passed your quests. The remaining prayer and study may be accomplished on the road. You and Mister Lee will travel to Sky Harbor and recount the story of Kara’s rescue and the closing of Vorax’s portal to the Assembly.” The headmaster turned to Stradok. “Both may give firsthand accounts. It is they or no one. Your choice.”
Stradok would not give in so easily. “In the old days, the Order sent all new Keledan to walk before the Assembly. Will the new headmaster break with tradition?”
“You are young, Councilor—much younger than me, in any case. So I’ll forgive you for misremembering. Those rescued from Tanelethar gave the High One their loyalty before men and dragons, at great risk and often great sacrifice. The Order asked nothing more of them. It was the Prime Council who summoned new Keledan to be paraded before the many seats of the Second Hall, as they summon Kara now. Back then, the Order relented. Not this time.”
Stradok closed his eyes for a long moment, then opened them again. “You are putting my standing at risk, sir. What am I to write in my raven?”
“Tell them you compromised.” Master Jairun sank into his simple wooden chair, as if to signal the meeting had ended. “Isn’t that what you Assembly councilors do best?”
Connor swallowed a chuckle.
Stradok grumbled under his breath, then lifted his chin. “Fine. But before I go, I have one more bit of business.”
“Which is?”
“My quarters. The air is thin on this mountainside, and I grow tired of climbing so many steps to bring you the Prime Council’s petitions”—he frowned—“often only to be denied. The Order is still small in its new state, and this fortress has many rooms. I’m certain you can find lodgings on this level for the Assembly’s representative.”
“I’m sorry, Councilor. There’s nothing I can do.”
“Why not?”
“The Assembly advisor’s quarters have always been on the second level of Ras Telesar.” Master Jairun gave him a flat grin. “That is a tradition of the Order. And, as you noted before, who am I to break with tradition?”
7
“Mister Enarian, please stay,” Master Jairun said when Connor tried to follow the councilor out. “And close the door.” He waited for Connor to comply before continuing. “I sent you on a scouting mission, did I not? I must hear how it became a rescue.”
Connor turned from the door, shrugging a shoulder. “Things got . . . out of hand.”
“Out of hand? Do you realize how blessed you were to survive a giant? We’ve lost entire raid teams to such creatures.”
Connor hung his head, and the headmaster softened his voice. “Don’t hear this as a rebuke, child. Hear it as concerned advice. We’ve taken great risks with your class thus far. We must be cautious about taking more. Though I’m loath to admit it in his presence, Stradok is right. The rekindled Order is small and fragile.”
“What of Elisai, the man we brought back? What of the family Lee and Dag rescued? Once their eyes were opened, should we have left them there?”
“Certainly not. But tell me, how did it come to such a choice? What did you find?” The headmaster offered him a chair next to his behind the canted desk, where they could speak in low tones, and Connor accepted.
“We learned of trouble in one of the Schisma Valley towns not long after we arrived. People starving, vanishing. The giant had taken up residence there. The creature helped them build a wall and a tavern.”
“Then he claimed the tavern for his own and never left, I presume?” The headmaster spoke as if such a result were inevitable—as if the townsfolk should have known better.
Perhaps that was true. “We learned from Elisai that the creature built itself a throne in the tavern’s hearth room. One by one, it drew in the men of the town—some of the women too. Tending to it day and night took them out of the fields and shops, until no family could put any food but the giant’s scraps on their tables.”
“A common tale.” Master Jairun lifted a text from a shelf behind him and thumbed through its time-stained pages. “A giant’s infection is subtle. At first the creature seems like a boon, a useful compromise to suit an Aladoth’s desires. Through its song sorcery, the creature casts itself as the perfect companion in labor or as a town defender. But in the end a giant is always destructive. Did this one begin eating those who tried to leave?”
