Crossing Swords E-Book

AC Donaubauer

• Herausgeber: via tolino media
• Kategorie: Fantasy und Science-Fiction
• Sprache: Englisch

Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2022

Beschreibung

The war with Pirinkar seems almost unstoppable, and the Order faces its first test after 3 centuries of peace. The promise to stand by the Western Territories against its northern neighbour will show whether the secluded efforts to maintain military prowess can actually stand up to reality. Although the enemy has little in the way of magical attack capabilities, their technological advances pose a threat that should not be underestimated. Eryn, meanwhile, wrestles with whether she is capable of destroying lives in a confrontation and thus betraying everything she has been trained to do. And Enric, whose loyalty has never been so severely tested as by the prospect of having to lead his companion into a war, is also struggling with his demons.

Leseprobe

Content

Imprint

Chapter One - Home Again

Chapter Two - First Preparations

Chapter Three - An Example

Chapter Four - A Test

Chapter Five - Deceiving the Public

Chapter Six - The Mountain Barrier

Chapter Seven - Enemy Lands

Chapter Eight - Wreaking Havoc

Chapter Nine - Experimenting

Chapter Ten - Call to War

Chapter Eleven - Takhan

Chapter Twelve - Arrivals from the Desert

Chapter Thirteen - Enemy Contact

Chapter Fourteen - Baits and Traps

Chapter Fifteen - A Staggering Blow

Chapter Sixteen - After the Battle

Chapter Seventeen - A Mighty Protection

Chapter Eighteen - Missing

Chapter Nineteen - Into the Desert

Chapter Twenty - Reunion in the Desert

Chapter Twenty-One - Facing the Enemy

Chapter Twenty-Two - All for Nothing

Chapter Twenty-Three - An Unpleasant Return

Chapter Twenty-Four - Battle for Takhan

Chapter Twenty-Five - A Long Night's End

First published in July 2022

Copyright © 2022

Astrid Donaubauer-Grobner

Waltenhofengasse 3/3/3302

1100 Vienna, Austria

The author online:

www.ac-donaubauer.com

www.facebook.com/acdonaubauer

Cover: Biserka Design

Editing: Jürgen Donaubauer

Proofreading: Philip Scott

ISBN 978-3-904142-26-7

CHAPTER ONE

Home Again

As soon as the ship was moored at the pier in the Royal City of Anyueel and the gangplank put in place, King Folrin disembarked without any ceremony but with considerable and visible anger lending a certain energy to his steps and more than a touch of darkness to his mien.

Queen Del'na'bened, now clad in more regal clothes than her travel attire of only an hour ago, followed him hurriedly.

Vern, Junar, little Téa and Temina watched in surprise as the Royal couple walked towards the waiting coach without sparing their surroundings so much as a glance.

“Folrin, she did not mean to,” they overheard the Queen, attempting to placate her companion.

It had no discernible effect on him. His lips pinched into a thin line, he merely stepped aside to let his companion board the vehicle first. Then he beamed Eryn, who was just setting foot on the pier, a last devastating look before - without waiting for the coachman to do so - determinedly shutting the door behind him and letting himself be taken away from her and to his palace.

Eryn exhaled and held on to Vedric’s hand to make sure he couldn’t rush towards the group waiting for them. He wasn’t allowed to run when there was danger of slipping or stumbling and landing himself in the river, but that was something he tended to forget every time he beheld people he was so eager to greet.

Enric and Orrin followed behind her. Orrin’s entire bearing changed with every step he made to reduce the distance between him and the family he hadn’t seen in months. Yet he didn’t fail to be the role model everyone expected him to be and therefore refrained from running towards them as he would have preferred. No, he merely walked briskly, demonstrating to the two children nearby that running on a pier was not to be done, while keeping his eyes on Junar and the girl at her side.

Eryn felt that she could breathe a little easier now that the King had gone and she was spared his antics for now. He had been almost impossible to be around this last day. How could a man who was supposed to be leading an entire country at times be quite that squeamish?

She watched as Orrin finally reached the waiting group, pulling Junar towards him to envelop her in a stormy embrace. Her own arms closed around his neck, pressing him close while burying her face at his throat. They had only a few seconds of enjoying their reunion without interruption, before the girl next to them tugged at her father’s shirt, feeling left out. Orrin swooped her up with one arm, and the embrace continued in a threesome.

Vern smiled at the scene, then turned to watch as Eryn, Enric and Vedric walked towards them.

“Welcome back, you,” he greeted them, then with a slightly resigned expression nodded his head towards the ship’s hull. “Would you care to elaborate why there is a gaping hole in the hull of that ship? That wouldn’t have anything to do with why the King is quite that peeved, would it?”

Eryn turned to look in the direction he indicated, taking in the massive gap covered by the faint blue shimmering of a magical shield. It afforded a direct view into the ship’s hold. Not an everyday sight. Which was also the reason why more and more passers-by stopped to goggle.

Temina grinned and nodded at her aunt. “That was you, wasn’t it? The Queen said something like that, I believe.”

Vedric’s face turned into a grimace of pretend horror, but the gleam in his eyes betrayed him. “It was terrible! I was sleeping, and then there was this really, really loud boom! And then there was water everywhere! Everything was wet and cold and everyone was screaming and running around!”

Eryn grimaced. “There might have been a tiny mishap.” That was not at all how she had imagined her welcome here. Justifying her latest act of destruction.

Vern snorted and looked back at the damage. “Tiny? That hole is easily as tall as me! I’m not sure whether to be glad that I wasn’t on the ship to fear for my life or to regret that I missed what was no doubt an unparalleled spectacle.” Finally, he stepped towards her. “But first let me greet you properly.” Hugging her, he continued, “No matter what you did, I’m glad to have you back.”

Temina was in the meantime greeting her uncle. Her eyes took in his face, her brow furrowed in confusion. “Enric. You look… different,” she ended her sentence somewhat helplessly, not really able to put a finger on the change.

Vern let go of Eryn and gave Enric a once-over. “You lost a little weight. And the lines around your eyes and on your forehead are slightly deeper than I remember,” he analysed with the quickness of a trained healer. “What’s happened to you?” He nodded towards the ship. “I assume this was caused by more than what she calls her tiny mishap?”

Eryn sighed. So Enric’s abduction in Pirinkar had not yet spread widely enough to become common knowledge in Anyueel. But that was only a matter of time - too many people in Takhan knew of it, and there were numerous formal and informal contacts among citizens of both countries, which meant it wouldn’t remain a secret for long.

“Let’s talk about that later, shall we?” she suggested, just as Orrin disengaged from his companion and his daughter. His expression was softer, as though the reunion with his family had lifted a great burden from him.

Eryn smiled at Junar and was about to step towards her to hug her, when the other woman’s words made her freeze in mid-step.

“You return again - with the ship in pieces, the King angry and three countries at war,” the seamstress threw at her without any warning whatsoever, her voice trembling with… something. “I suppose I should be grateful that at least my companion is back in one piece.”

“Junar, that’s not fair,” Enric replied calmly. He resisted the impulse to put an arm around Eryn’s shoulders and make it look as though Eryn needed him to defend her. Well, at least more than his words already made it appear. “But this is hardly the time to discuss whatever causes you so much grief. We have only just arrived and would very much like to return home, unpack and get some rest.”

“It’s not fair to say such a thing to my mother!” Vedric sprung in, but fell silent upon his father’s warning look. It seemed as though this was another one of these situations where it was only alright if a grown-up said it, but not him.

Orrin also looked as though he wanted to say something, but he thought the better of it. He didn’t have it in him to reprimand his companion for her harsh and hardly justified words after only just reuniting with her.

“I think we will also return home,” the warrior announced and took Junar and Téa by one hand each.

The little family walked towards a waiting coach and was gone little later.

“What’s her problem?” Temina asked, incredulous, pointing with her thumb over her shoulder to where Junar had been walking only a few moments ago. “I mean, you just got off the ship! And it’s not your fault that Orrin was stuck in Takhan! I thought she was supposed to be your friend!”

Vern raked a hand through his hair and took it upon him to answer. “The time without father was hard for her. She missed him a lot. And she was afraid for his life, particularly after she heard about the attack at Malriel’s home. And that Téa became more difficult to handle didn’t help either. Her behaviour improved a lot after father started the training with her, and when he was no longer there to set her boundaries and spend time with her, she reverted to several of her earlier, less amiable manners.”

Eryn sighed as understanding dawned on her. “And she blames me for it all. Because it was my mother who requested for Orrin to be sent to protect my son.”

Vern looked pained, torn between protecting his father’s companion and acknowledging how irrational her attack on Eryn had been.

“She might. To a certain degree. Although she knows that you are not really the one to blame - you never asked to be sent to Pirinkar, and looking at how things turned out, it was a good thing father was there to protect Vedric. She wasn’t really thinking when she said that. It’s just all the frustration needing to get out somehow.” He cleared his throat and pointed back towards the mangled ship, eager to change the topic. “I’d really like to know how that happened. Why did you blow a hole into the side of the ship?”

“Actually, it was Enric who did it,” she replied wearily. “But I kind of triggered it. Why don’t you two come along and have a drink with us?”

* * *

Enric exhaled and enjoyed the act of closing the door to his home, locking out the outside world, just admitting inside his private space the people he actually wanted there. For now, there were no demands he had to bow to - no orders issued by the King, no summons by Tyront. They were just a regular family returning from a rather exhausting journey. With the King and Queen. On a ship which had almost been blown to pieces. Well, maybe they were not quite such a regular family, after all.

Vern and Temina entered right behind them, both of them releasing a contented sigh as if they, too, had just returned home after a few months.

Enric exchanged an amused look with his companion.

Vedric fumbled with his laces, then kicked the shoes from his feet, dropping his cloak where he stood, before dashing towards the stairs and up to his room.

His mother shook her head, while his father picked up the mess the boy had left behind.

Unbidden, yet confident enough that this here was something like a third home to him - in addition to his own place and his father’s - Vern dropped on a sofa, patting the place next to him for Temina.

Eryn noted with interest how the girl walked over and followed the invitation without the slightest hesitation. Those two young people were comfortable around each other - a lot more than only a few months ago - and she wondered what the nature of their relationship might be. Friends? Lovers? Something in-between? That was the disadvantage of having to leave for such extended time periods - one missed so much of what was going on, but which was not spectacular enough to be mentioned in any message. It was a little as though she had to become re-acquainted with the people in her life.

Which was certainly more than appropriate when she thought back to her short but quaking encounter with Junar.

“What would you like to drink?” Enric asked while stepping towards the drinks cabinet, seamlessly re-assuming the role of generous host.

Vern asked for a glass of wine, as did Temina, though with a slightly exaggerated nonchalance which suggested she was waiting to see whether her request would be granted.

Enric pursed his lips. “Does your grandmother know you are drinking alcohol?”

His niece sighed, her shoulder slumping slightly. “No.”

Eryn felt his amusement through the mind bond. Even though there was no trace of it on his face.

“I see,” he nodded. “And would she approve of it?”

“That you even have to ask shows very clearly that she was not the one to raise you when you became old enough to start drinking alcohol,” Temina growled.

Enric pretended to think for a moment. “I suppose I can grant you some leniency on account of your honesty.”

“Where is Plia, by the way?” Eryn asked, while Enric was pouring four glasses of red wine. “She usually welcomes us at the pier.”

“At work,” Vern replied. “Where else would she be? I think she is teaching the new apothecaries today.”

“Still as assiduous as ever, then. How about yourself? Now that you are back to healing, I hope you haven’t discovered that cleaning horse stables and floors is more to your liking than your old profession.”

The young man snorted and accepted the glass Enric handed him. “Certainly not! Though Lord Poron didn’t make things easy for me upon returning. I got more than my share of the less popular shifts. But I’m not complaining,” he added hurriedly.

They lifted their glasses.

“To family,” Enric said and lifted his.

The other three smiled and repeated his words.

“So,” Vern began after his first sip, “you promised to reveal the secret behind the smashed up ship.”

“Smashed up,” Eryn repeated derisively and waved him off. “That’s but a dent.”

“I was able to look inside!” Temina cried out. “That ship is ruined! What happened? You weren’t attacked or anything, were you?”

Eryn rubbed her forehead and took a seat on one of the chairs. “No, not really. It was an accident.” She exhaled as she wondered where to start her narrative. “You know that we were sent to Pirinkar.”

Both of them nodded.

“Enric and I were… separated for a time. This led to the discovery that it seems to be possible to transfer magic through our mind bond,” she continued, carefully omitting what she really didn’t want to talk about right now. “Though neither of us can tell how exactly this works. So, when we were on the ship without anything to do but to stare at the waves for three days…”

Vern’s brow rose. “You thought you could just as well use the time for some experimentation? Even though the King and Queen were on board?”

“Well, yes. I didn’t really expect quite such a dramatic outcome,” she defended her ill-fated decision.

The young man looked at Enric. “And there was nothing you had to say about that?”

“I wasn’t consulted,” he replied with a tense sideways glance at his companion.

“What does the hole in the ship mean, then?” their niece enquired. “Did it work or not?”

“Let’s say we learned something new, though not quite as much as we were hoping to,” Eryn tried to phrase it in neutral terms.

“Come on now, how did this happen? This is like pulling teeth!” Vern complained, showing first signs of impatience.

“It was late at night,” Eryn began, “and apart from the crew I was the only one still awake. I’d spent some time looking out at the sea, thinking. It must have been around midnight when I started pondering whether I could reproduce what had happened up in Pirinkar. On a smaller scale. So I closed my eyes and concentrated. I thought that I would know whether it had worked because Enric would no doubt awake if it did. After several failed attempts my thoughts began to wander to… things which had happened up in Kar. Harrowing things. My guess is that I drifted off a little, and that my thoughts somehow continued on that line of reason, spinning rather unpleasant dreams from my earlier deliberations. I was jolted awake when somebody tripped over my legs, and this unexpected incident in combination with what was going on in my brain while I was dozing must have accomplished what I couldn’t while awake.”

“Meaning you somehow sent magic to Enric?” Vern asked, his expression incredulous. “I wasn’t even aware your mind bond can do that! So it worked?”

“Let’s rather say there was an unmissable effect,” Enric cut in. “To say it worked would be a bit much since it was no conscious effort which can be repeated at will. And let’s not forget that there was a gigantic hole in the ship’s hull. Not exactly my understanding of success.”

“Enric did receive my magic,” Eryn went on, “though he was asleep at that time and therefore not really able to control it. It just… went out of him.” She accompanied that last sentence with a motion of her hands which was supposed to indicate an explosion.

“In the form of a bolt which hit the ship,” he added for completeness’ sake.

Vern flinched as he imagined it. “That must have been quite an awakening. Good thing you merely hit the ship’s hull instead of a person.”

“Vedric was sleeping on the cot opposite mine. But the bolt wouldn’t have harmed him. Much. It was strong enough to break through wood, but would merely have knocked him out. The human body can deal fairly well with magical attacks.”

“I know,” Vern sighed. “A good deal of it disperses across the skin. You do remember that I’m both a magician and a healer, yes?”

Eryn smirked, pleased that for a change someone else than herself called his attention to his tendency to over-explain things.

Temina leaned forward, fascinated. “So there must have been a lot of water coming in, judging from the position of the hole,” she deducted.

“There was,” Enric confirmed, reliving the horrid seconds after waking to what started as a hefty torrent of water into his face a moment after the magic breaking free from him had jolted him out of his dreams. “I needed a moment to realise what was happening, and in that time the water in the cabin was knee-deep, and the hull had started to crack and break up, plank by plank. When I erected the shield, the damage had spread quite a lot. The crew had noticed that something was wrong after the boom of my bolt and the way the ship had begun to list.” He rubbed both hands over his face. “Everybody had started running around and shouting. It was mayhem.”

“So you see - it was a mishap,” Eryn emphasised once again. “It didn’t even happen when I was consciously experimenting with it, but only afterwards. So I don’t see how the King can blame me for it.”

“You don’t?” Vern asked. “Magic doesn’t usually flow to and fro between the two of you when you are asleep, so you must have done something.”

“I don’t know! I have no idea how that happened. I spent the last day aboard the ship thinking about it.” Her expression darkened. “I had a lot of time for that - neither the King nor the crew were particularly eager to talk to me after the incident. The Queen was trying to placate him, but I saw that she, too, was shaken.”

“Incredible,” Vern marvelled, “how you always manage to destroy things in the most spectacular manner. First the Senate Hall, now that ship with the King and Queen aboard…”

“And a mountain fortress hewn into solid rock, while she was at it…” Enric murmured and took a large sip from his glass.

Temina and Vern both looked at him as if to determine whether he was joking.

“That’s nonsense,” the young man finally decided, “no-one can destroy something like that.”

Enric smiled faintly. “Want to bet?”

* * *

“You destroyed a mountain fortress,” Vern muttered, even after a day still stunned by what Enric had shown him with the aid of this nifty little trick he had learned in Pirinkar. “You completely reduced it to rubble. How? I mean… how?”

Eryn, walking beside him for the last few steps before they would arrive at the Clinic, shrugged. “It was kind of an afflatus. I just… communicated with the rock underneath me, dived into it with my magic, and it virtually showed me how to do it.”

Vern flashed her a sceptical look as though she had lost her mind completely now. “You talked to the stones? And they talked back?”

She stopped at the front door. “It sounds crazy when you say it like that. I’m not cracked. It was like feeling what was lying underneath me, the different layers on top of each other, the way they stretched and curved around me… What looks so impressive when Enric shows his memories is not an act of force or brute strength. It’s a small nudge with an incredibly powerful impact. I merely sent magic along one of the layers and let it resurface where I needed it - changing the structure of the stone just slightly so it would extend. The rock became malleable and no longer served as a stable underground foundation. And suddenly that monstrosity of a keep was gone in a cloud of grey dust.”

The young man shook his head in wonder. “How do you always discover such things? Nobody but you would think of examining layers of rock to destroy something. Anyone else would just throw a lot of magic in the form of bolts at it.”

“That’s how warriors would do it. And it would have been stupid. Apart from the fact that I was too far away for that anyway, smashing a structure like that made out of solid rock would have taken ages, even for a strong magician. You would have to peel away bit by bit from the outside, split off chunks with every bolt. Even if Enric and Lord Tyront did that together, they would be spent after little more than an hour.”

“And that thing with the mind bond now… You said you were separated in Pirinkar – why? Does it have something to do with this change about Enric?”

Eryn forced herself to cover her discomfort with a smile. There was so much she couldn’t tell him, things she knew she had to ask Tyront whether anyone else was allowed to know about. Such as Enric’s abduction, the fact that they were at war, or even the secret of the Bendan Ederbren’s fighting technique she had stumbled upon.

She had been more than surprised that Enric had not only demonstrated to Vern his new skill of projecting images onto a magical shield, but also shown him how to go about it – without consulting the Order first.

That was unusual for a man who had most of his life kept certain skills to himself to secure an advantage in this swamp of magicians, politicians and spies. It seemed as though her own approach to treating knowledge - as something which grew upon being shared - had begun to rub off on him.

“I’m afraid I can’t tell you about any of this yet,” she said, her tone apologetic as she returned to the conversation at hand.

As Eryn was about to push open the door to the Clinic, he stayed her hand and turned his head to check whether anyone was close, before whispering, “There are rumours that we are supposed to be at war. I assume you can’t tell me anything about that, either?”

“I’m afraid I cannot,” she confirmed, but gave him an almost imperceptible nod.

He understood and gulped, his eyes slightly widened. Having this suspicion confirmed clearly perturbed him.

They entered the building, and it was a matter of no more than two minutes until the news of Eryn’s return had spread through the entire Clinic. She was welcomed back, hugged, asked about the goings-on in the west and managed to extract herself only after half an hour.

Work came before pleasure, so she would see Lord Poron before knocking at Plia’s door. Amidst all the other colleagues they’d had hardly more than a few seconds to talk to each other.

She lifted her fist to knock at the study door, but then waited for a few moments to collect herself. This was the day where she would make her withdrawal from healing official. No matter how great the temptation to put off this unpleasant business for another day or two, she knew that this wouldn’t make things easier. She needed to get this behind her, and Lord Poron ought to know of it before any plans to include her in the shifts were made.

Strictly speaking she had already informed the Head of the Clinic in Takhan of it, but since he happened to be her father and the occasion as well as the location had been private, she didn’t really count it. This here would have to be done officially.

The room behind this door was the very one she had occupied several years ago before the Order had decided that someone else than her was to be in charge of her Clinic. They had chosen well enough with Lord Poron, as she would be the first to admit, but there was still a tiny bit of resentment remaining, which insisted that it had not been their choice to make but hers alone. But the Order didn’t do well with individual choices. At least not unless the individual making them was in charge of the entire institution.

When she finally did knock, the door opened almost immediately, and before her stood Lord Poron, looking considerable less elderly than he ought to thanks to rejuvenating healing magic.

“Eryn!” he said warmly, pulling her into an embrace before inviting her to enter. “Do come in. I was hoping you would drop by this morning. Even though I’m aware that you ought to be seeing Tyront first.” He smiled. “But you always try to stall that visit after your return from Takhan.” Once he had closed the door behind her and both were seated, his expression turned serious. “I’m glad you and Enric returned safely from up north. How is he doing? I hear he was abducted and even tortured.”

Eryn wasn’t surprised that he knew about that. With her and Enric gone, Lord Poron was the highest-ranking Order magician after Tyront.

“He is doing well enough and has sought Iklan’s help after our return to Takhan. I saw a considerable improvement after that, but I assume that overcoming such an experience entirely may still take some time.”

Lord Poron smiled faintly. “I’m glad to hear that he consulted Iklan. Ever since I dedicated myself to healing, I have begun to understand that the Order didn’t exactly teach young magicians a healthy attitude when it comes to facing one’s own weaknesses. We teach them to face and overcome them - or if they cannot, to make them disappear by paying no heed to them. The option of accepting help – or worse, even asking for it – was never encouraged since it would mean making yourself vulnerable to someone else. Which contradicts political strategy.”

Eryn sighed deep within but didn’t reply to that. Political strategy. Her least favourite subject, discipline or however else one wanted to categorise it. Wasn’t it marvellous to be back…

“It’s important to have Enric at his full strength now that we have entered into a war,” the Head of Healers proceeded. “The two of you are not only high up in the Order, but also possess important knowledge about the enemy.”

“I wouldn’t go quite that far,” Eryn grimaced. “I can’t help the feeling that there is a lot more that we don’t know about them.”

The enemy. It was easy for him to use that term for the people north of the Western Territories. To him they were nothing but an anonymous mass without faces. For Eryn, they had not only faces but a culture, their own language, temples, amazing technology and - above all - were individual people with names, professions, needs and wishes. The enemy was not a people; as far as she was concerned, it was a single man.

“The Bendan Ederbren are surely inclined to share their insights with us,” Lord Poron, ever the optimist, replied.

“I have no doubt that they are willing to, yet I wonder how much of an insight they are able to provide considering that they were forced to spend all of their life behind temple walls,” Eryn countered.

“True,” the old man nodded, “yet there is another group which is being questioned, and has been for several days now, as I understand: those who attacked the Bendan Ederbren’s camp. At least the few the desert tribe was able to detain.”

“The Loman Ergen?” Eryn asked, only now remembering the captives.

“We received word from Takhan about them while you were on your way here. They were a group of about fifteen, yet only two of them truly are Loman Ergen. The rest of them are merely soldiers dressed to look the part.” He frowned. “Which surprises me somewhat. Had the entire group consisted of magicians trained in scouting, they would without a doubt have inflicted more damage or even managed to kill all of the Bendan Ederbren. Why would Etor Gart send only two of them along?”

Eryn ground her teeth. “I only met one small group of the Loman Ergen, yet I did not get the impression that any are particularly keen on being made to assassinate fellow magicians – if in fact anyone is. Maybe he couldn’t find enough of them who were willing to go on that grisly mission.”

Lord Poron nodded slowly. “I assume Etor Gart will have to make concessions now that he lost a temple full of warriors. I suppose his means of replacing them are somewhat limited considering that magicians weren’t generally allowed to train combat skills. But let’s talk no more of this. I am certain there will be more than enough opportunity to discuss the war at the Council meetings.” He gave Eryn a sympathetic smile as her face fell at the mention of her least favourite group of people.

“If that isn’t something to look forward to…” she growled.

“Your father wrote to me,” he changed the topic. “He mentioned that you are trying to prove that magical healing has detrimental long-term effects on patients.”

Eryn pressed her index finger and thumb against the bridge of her nose. “My aim is not trying to prove that – I want to find out whether the proposition is true or not. I’d be happy with either result; I merely want to be certain that healers aren’t accidentally mistreating their patients. He isn’t particularly happy about my determination to do research on this question. I basically forced him to tolerate it by calling upon the Triarchy.”

The healer shook his head. “I suppose nobody could ever accuse you of unduly favouring your family. You are failing to consider his point of view, Eryn. He is worried about diminishing his healers’ reputation, of devaluing the work they are doing.”

“I know. But that doesn’t mean we shouldn’t find out the truth.”

“It certainly doesn’t,” he agreed. “Yet it might warrant a less… unforgiving approach. I assume you intend to have a look at patient files to determine recurring illnesses as a first step?”

She nodded.

“If you think that the few years of recording we have done so far might aid you in your endeavour, you may of course make use of our files for that purpose. They do not go back as many years as those in Takhan, as you know, but it might be a start.”

Eryn smiled at him, the feeling of her affection for him blooming inside her chest. He had never let her down, and she was grateful and relieved that he wasn’t now.

“Thank you so much. I think that’s an excellent place to start.”

“It’s good to have you back,” he told her. “And also Vern, though I’m still trying to impress on him that we might have forgiven his lapse, though certainly not forgotten it.”

She gulped. This was what she had been dreading – telling him that he hadn’t really got her back. At least not the way he expected.

“I think Vern understood that well enough. At least that’s the impression I got when he told me about the shift rotation. Listen, there is something further I need to tell you.”

Lord Poron raised his brow when she hesitated. “You know you can tell me anything.”

She exhaled and forced herself to utter the words. “I will no longer be working as a healer.”

Her conversation partner’s brow furrowed. “Pardon?”

“I have decided that I can no longer pursue this line of work. It is connected to what happened in Pirinkar. I… I did something I swore never to do again.”

The other magician regarded her for a time, then nodded slowly. “I will of course respect your decision, no matter how much I regret it. Will you tell me what induced you to give up healing? I want to try and understand.”

Eryn tussled with herself for a moment, then finally nodded. Somehow telling him was so much easier than disclosing this particular fact to her family. It wasn’t that she didn’t trust her father to stand by her despite her despicable deed - her breaking of the oath she had given. He would. The problem was rather what it might cost him. What she had done went against everything he stood for; it violated everything he had upheld for decades.

Lord Poron was equally dedicated to the field of healing, even though he had not worked in it for quite that long. But he had also been trained by the Order, having been prepared to go to war at an early age. He knew that sometimes there was no way around reverting to certain disagreeable and at times unethical measures.

Valrad knew that, too, but only on a non-violent basis in connection with political issues or tough decisions a Head of House needed to make.

She took a deep breath. “When Enric was taken, I used my magic and my healing knowledge to torture a man whom I suspected knew about his whereabouts. It was…” She closed her eyes. “…easier than it should have been.”

“I see,” Lord Poron said softly, not the slightest hint of judgement in his voice. “Well, I’m sure another path lies awaiting for you, my dear Eryn. And considering your position in the Order and your regular journeys to Takhan, having you here as nothing more than a humble healer has been a great luxury anyway. Still, you will be greatly missed. You are not only the first healer we ever had here, but also the founder of this Clinic.”

She was infinitely grateful that he didn’t make any attempts to change her mind, but merely accepted both her decision and what she had done to that priest as an unpleasant but probably unavoidable - or at least excusable - thing.

“Malriel asked me to take over House Aren,” the words tumbled out of her, unbidden. It was as though she wanted to assure him that there would be a task waiting for her if she so wished, that he needn’t worry that she would be lost and without a purpose in life.

Now he looked worried. “And you accepted? Are you intending to leave us for good?”

“I haven’t decided yet. It is a big decision and I don’t want to rush it.”

Lord Poron let go of his breath and closed his eyes for a moment. “I suppose I should have expected that. Yet it was so much easier to rely on your tense relationship with Malriel and presume that it would not allow you two to take a step towards each other - at least not to a degree where she might entrust you with her House and you would actually consider it. Does Tyront know about it yet?”

She shrugged. “With Tyront it’s always hard to tell what he knows. If he doesn’t know, he might suspect. I think the King does. At least since he heard that I haven’t annulled Vedric’s adoption into House Aren for the time being.”

“Your son is in House Aren?” Then he tapped against his temple with one index finger. “Ah. A precaution when you went to Pirinkar to ensure for him the protection of House Aren. A shrewd move. And not reversing it is a rather tell-tale signal. I would agree that Tyront will guess the relevance behind that. I recommend that you officially inform him of the offer. And soon. It is a sign of respect and goodwill. And it won’t be news for him, anyway, merely a confirmation of a suspicion he has been harbouring.”

Eryn nodded hesitantly. She wasn’t particularly keen on telling Tyront about it since she could imagine his point of view on the entire issue. And how he would react to hearing her put in words what he had suspected anyway. If she was lucky, there would merely be forced politeness.

Yet Lord Poron was right - talking to Tyront about it all would at least convey the illusion of forthrightness.

A sharp knock sounded on the door which connected Lord Poron’s study with his Head of Administration’s, and a moment later it opened without awaiting permission.

There was a hardly perceptible sniff when Loft’s gaze landed on Eryn.

“Ah yes, the commotion indicated that you must have returned,” he muttered. “The disruption of all order and discipline usually is a sure indicator of your arrival.”

Eryn beamed him a cool look. “And the atmosphere being cleared of any joy in a matter of moments is an indicator of yours,” she retorted.

“I assume I am to rewrite the duty roster for the next month now that you graced us with your presence,” Loft grumbled. “Any new requirements this time? I do so enjoy working around your arbitrary priorities.”

“Too kind,” she deadpanned. “But that will not be necessary. I will not disrupt your carefully planned roster. Never again.”

That had him blink. Twice. “Does this mean you will no longer be working here as a healer?”

“Well deduced. Now go and play with your papers so the adults can talk, alright?”

Loft was actually perplexed enough to obey that less than polite order, on his face a wondrous smile as he closed the door.

“Isn’t that nice?” she said tiredly. “At least someone is happy about it.”

* * *

“Why exactly is there a gaping hole in the ship that brought you here from Takhan?” was the first issue Tyront wanted to know, once Enric had taken a seat in his study.

“I suppose they just don’t build them as well as they used to,” Enric’s mouth uttered, before his brain could rein it in. He cleared his throat as Tyront’s gaze darkened. “What did your informants say happened? I refuse to believe that there isn’t at least one report about that somewhere in that monstrosity of a desk of yours.”

That was not much better as replies to already slightly annoyed superiors went, he thought belatedly. Damn - Eryn’s insolence really was rubbing off on him. He considered whether he should give it another try, but decided against it. Self-confident disrespect was still better than being clumsy and attempting to make it right again. At least in the Order. Accepting punishment with one’s head held high was considered something like virtue, yet trying to avoid it was generally met with impassive disdain. The Order was all for punishing people for their mistakes and not so much for realising them in time. Learning from mistakes was important, so dodging punishment by avoiding them at the last moment was as though one was unwilling to improve oneself.

Tyront braced his elbows on his massive desk and steepled his fingertips in the way that was so typical for him. And continued staring at Enric.

“Shall we try this again, Enric?” Underneath a layer of benevolent indulgence, there was also a certain… coolness in Tyront’s voice now.

“It was a…” Mishap was the first word which came to his mind, but Eryn’s favourite belittling term for what could easily have sunk the entire ship including the Kingdom’s ruling couple would not amuse Tyront in the least. “…an accident,” he finished.

“A few more details would be appreciated,” Tyront replied flatly when nothing more came.

His superior was impatient, Enric noted. That had to mean that the reports he had received so far had been anything but to his satisfaction.

“I’m not certain myself how that happened. Eryn says she engaged in some experimenting with the mind bond.” Did Tyront even know of the particulars of how Enric had very likely escaped his incarceration? That Eryn must somehow have managed to send the magic she had lost control over to him through the mind bond - and thereby reducing the golden band around his neck to a black, half-melted chunk of metal? Enric himself had not given any particulars in his messages, yet the Triarchy or the King might.

“How would that blow a hole the size of a horse cart into your ship?”

Very well, that question showed that he was not aware of the details. Which meant that some explaining had to be done first. Explaining which required that he talked about what had happened to him during his captivity. Preferably in a manner which wouldn’t show Tyront how hard this still was for him. He needed to sound casual, but not to a degree that would indicate to Tyront that he was trying to hide something. He would try to keep things short, only mention the bare minimum required for explaining the incident on the ship.

Enric took a sip from the cup in front of him and mentally prepared himself. “I wrote in my report that I was locked up in some sort of cell within a mountain fortress for about two weeks. With a golden band around my neck to deprive me of my magic. It works the same way our golden manacles or the belts in the Western Territories do.”

Tyront sighed. “Thank you; I made that rather obvious connection.”

For a brief moment, Enric wondered whether his companion was right - did he really have a tendency to over-explain things?

Pushing aside that thought, he continued, “I managed to escape one day because the collar fell off when I sat up on my bed after waking. At that time I thought it was another of the delusions I was being tormented with, so I wasn’t aware that I was walking out of my actual prison for real.”

“I was wondering about that part,” Tyront frowned. “Why would your restraint fall off just like that? Did you ever find an explanation for it?”

“There is a theory Eryn and I favour. Eryn had a breakdown in the city, at the Temple of the Bendan Ederbren. She was overcome by her emotions, her fear and anguish, not able to hold them in.”

“She lost control?” The Order’s leader looked worried. “In the middle of a densely populated area?”

“Yes. She passed out, and when she awoke noticed that no damage was visible around her. We later found out that this breakdown must have occurred at the time when my collar fell off. So we suspect that…”

“You suspect that the power released by her loss of control was somehow transferred to you through the mind bond and freed you from the golden neckband,” Tyront completed the sentence, leaning back and looking up at the ceiling with narrowed eyes.

“Exactly.”

“And then she started playing around with that power on the ship and accidentally blew a hole into it,” he concluded.

“More or less, but not quite. I was the one to release the bolt in my sleep,” Enric corrected him. “Though at that time she had already given up her attempts. She had fallen asleep on deck, and when a crew member stumbled over her outstretched legs, he startled her awake and obviously triggered some unconscious transfer of magic to me - which I couldn’t hold in since I was asleep.” He shrugged. “Though I have no idea whether being awake would have enabled me to control it any better, to be honest.”

“Another one of your little discoveries,” Tyront grumbled, “and another dangerous one, too. One which you need to learn to conquer so you don’t pose a danger to everyone around you. The question is whether this breakdown of hers only triggered this ability to share your magic with each other somehow, or if it would have been possible all along. If the first option is true, then she might have…” He took a few seconds to look for the right word. “She might have activated something inside you which can be triggered unconsciously. Or she was sending her magic to you all along, and only startling her caused her to accidentally do it with a higher intensity than before.”

Enric hid a smile at the change in his old friend. Within minutes he had morphed from strict superior to curious researcher.

Tyront turned serious. “This is a rather dangerous thing, as you must be aware. It means there is no restraining either of you without also binding the other in gold. And it means you might break free from the hold of a stronger magician if you manage to work out how to consciously use that connection to your advantage.”

“That has crossed my mind, yes,” he replied calmly, refraining from asking who was the one doing the over-explaining and stating of the obvious now.

“You also mentioned in your report another ability. Three, actually. Impressive ones, too, if I am to believe your words. There is tricking the memory block, which I assume we need a third person for. But for now you may show me the one with the memories. Golir wrote that you demonstrated it to the Senate by remembering how Eryn destroyed that fortress.”

Enric nodded and once again conjured up the images as he remembered them. Tyront watched, unable to hide his fascination both with the skill and the pictures themselves.

A few minutes later he shook his head and folded his arms. “Incredible. How much effort is it to acquire that skill?”

“It’s fairly simple, actually. Eryn learned it in no more than a few minutes, as did I.”

“Then it will be your pleasure to teach me once we are done talking.”

Enric nodded. “Certainly. I could teach you right away, if you like.”

“There is something else I wish to hear about first. That other skill you wrote to me about. The one used in non-magical combat. Though we might have to redefine that term since there is magic involved, just not in the form of bolts being hurled. The Bendan Ederbren taught you that, from what I understood.”

Pride made Enric smile, when he shook his head. “They didn’t need to. Eryn discovered it on her own. Accidentally, just as is usual when it comes to combat skills.”

Tyront shook his head. “That woman is driving me insane. I don’t know which irks me more - that she keeps stumbling upon these things despite not showing any interest whatsoever in the discipline, or that she can’t be bothered to put that talent to proper use.”

Enric didn’t reply to that. He knew that his companion had a very different idea of what the proper use of her talents was. Certainly not what Tyront meant by that term.

“I could demonstrate it to you in the arena, if you like,” he offered casually.

“Thank you, no,” Tyront growled. “I remember the day I wished to test my mastery of the double shield she devised - only to find out rather painfully that she had in the meantime made another lucky discovery - how to overcome it. I know better than to let myself in for another public demonstration. No, you’ll show me here.”

Enric looked around in the study, which was spacious, yet certainly not extensive enough to not suffer any damage if two strong magicians tested their skills in combat.

“Are you sure?” he asked, his voice full of doubt. “You might have to have some repairs done in here afterwards.”

Tyront got up from his chair. “Then let’s go to the parlour. If we accidentally smashed that monstrous red vase in the corner next to the entrance door which Vyril recently bought, I wouldn’t mind that in the least. I would even go so far as to grant you a favour if you took on the sole blame for it.”

“I feel I am being used,” Enric mumbled in pretended indignation, glad that since his arrival the mood had lightened enough for jokes.

“That’s alright - I can live with it, and you’ll get over it. Eventually.”

* * *

Plia all but dropped her – fortunately not breakable – tools as Eryn walked into her laboratory. A moment later the two women hugged.

“I am with child!” the younger woman beamed once they had moved apart again.

Eryn smiled. It was not exactly unexpected news, since Plia had her protection removed shortly before her commitment, but news it still was.

“I’m so happy for you. How far along are you?”

“It’s my fourth month, and I have never felt better!”

Eryn remembered her own pregnancy. It had been… alright. Slight stomach problems at the beginning and a craving for sweet, baked articles, but nothing too uncomfortable. Junar had not been quite as lucky. But Plia was positively radiating energy and life. Something which might also be attributable to her age. At twenty-one years of age she was quite a few years younger than Junar and Eryn herself had been.

She pushed aside the thought of Junar and the unpleasant welcome, not willing to let it taint her reunion with Plia.

“So no morning sickness or anything of that kind?”

“Nothing whatsoever – just an increased sensitivity for odours, but that’s actually helpful in my line of work,” the young woman laughed.

“How is Rhys dealing with the prospect of becoming a father soon?”

“He is switching between phases of frenzied activity to prepare everything and others where he worries whether he will be able to live up to the challenge. He is currently building a cradle since his own was given to his older brother for his children. I think he’s started the job all over again three times by now, always dissatisfied. He speaks of passing it on to his grandchildren one day.” She shook her head in wonder. “We haven’t even seen our child yet, and he is already speaking of grandchildren!”

Eryn thought back to how she herself had regularly checked on her unborn son with magic, looking inside her belly to make sure everything was fine. And what a pity it was that non-magicians didn’t have that opportunity.

Then a thought occurred to her.

“May I have a look inside?” she asked, nodding towards Plia’s belly.

“Sure, go ahead.”

Eryn placed a hand on the already slightly bulging abdomen under the baggy clothes and closed her eyes before releasing a weak surge of exploratory magic. She immediately found the foetus, once again marvelling how far a human being was already developed after only a few weeks. The body and limbs had already taken shape, only the proportions would still be changing. Even the facial features were already discernible. And the baby’s sex, of course.

“Do you already know what it is?” she asked, her eyes still closed.

“Yes. They said it’s a boy.”

Eryn nodded and opened her eyes again, her hand still on Plia’s belly. “Would you like to see him?”

“What? How? Yes!”

“Alright. I can’t promise anything, though. When I look inside you, it’s the magic in combination with the brain doing the seeing, not my eyes. So I’m not entirely certain whether I can remember and then reproduce this in a way that your eyes can recognise anything. Don’t be disappointed if it doesn’t work. This is an experiment.”

The magician created a barrier in the air before them, concentrating on visualising the information which was conveyed to her brain without the detour through the eyes. First, there were faint black and red blotches, then those images began to take on forms.

Plia gasped as details filled in, forming before her eyes a more or less exact picture of her child. She covered her mouth with one hand, while the other moved upwards with the need to touch, her fingers hovering in front of the tiny face, causing a slight discharge of the weak magical barrier.

“This is incredible! He already looks like a real person, with hands and legs and everything! He has my nose,” she breathed, her eyes wide and her voice awestruck. Without taking her eyes off the image, she added, “I had no idea you can do such a thing!”

Eryn shrugged. “Neither did I. As I said - it was an experiment. The projection of pictures is something I learned in Pirinkar, but I didn’t know that it is possible to actually use it to make visible what is going on inside the body…” Her voice trailed off as she thought of how this could be utilised in training new healers – particularly non-magicians, who had no way of just looking inside a body the way their magician colleagues were able to.

“Could you teach that to the other healers?” Plia asked. “Imagine how great it would be for parents to have a look at their unborn children!”

“That shouldn’t be a problem, provided Lord Poron agrees. But I don’t see why he wouldn’t.”

There were tears shimmering in the younger woman’s eyes as she kept marvelling at the image floating in front of her. “He is beautiful. I can hardly believe that he is growing inside me. Thank you – thank you so much! This is the most amazing thing I have ever seen!”

Eryn, always slightly awkward around gratitude, particularly when it was so intense and had required so little effort to earn, just acknowledged the words with a nod and kept the image afloat so Plia could delight in it a little longer.

A sudden sadness took possession of Eryn as she thought about the impending war and that this little boy and all the other children born to either of the conflict parties would somehow be affected by it. They might lose a family member to it or grow up in a country ransacked by what would commonly be referred to as the enemy. People would get killed, and those lucky enough to survive would very likely be traumatised by the events or be suffering from dwelling in a post-war environment where food was scarce and bitterness reigned.

She would do her best in somehow helping to avoid this outcome. Though she was aware that people in Anyueel and the Western Territories would rather be focused on protecting their side only, while Eryn was determined to stand up for them all – including those who were being manipulated, used and sacrificed to cement the claim to power of a single ambitious man who didn’t even shy from incarcerating his only brother.

She let herself breath more freely again, pushing these gloomy thoughts aside, not willing to let them poison this private moment of carefree engagement with Plia, who looked so charming as she was standing there, one hand resting on her belly, the other still lifted towards the likeness of her son. She was determined to remember this and show it to Vern so he could draw it one day, maybe as a gift to her son when he was older. That way he could see with his own eyes how much joy he was giving his mother, the love he was inspiring in her even before he was born.

A knock at the door interrupted them, and Eryn removed her hand from her friend’s tummy and went to see who it was.

Onil stood in front of the door, his eyes widened, his face pale. Eryn gulped. If bad news had a face, it was this very one. She slipped out the door and motioned for Onil to follow her into an empty teaching room.

“What happened?” she demanded, her voice sounding harsher than she had intended.

“Something terrible. An accident. A building caved in and buried him under an avalanche of bricks… there was nothing we were able to do but to excavate his body… I’m so sorry. He was a good man.” The last sentence was but a whisper.

Eryn’s stomach turned into a solid block of ice from one moment to the next. Enric. No…

Her knees gave in and she had to brace herself on one of the many desks, her movements sluggish as though the air had suddenly thickened into water and was slowing everything down. This couldn’t possibly be true - they hadn’t gone through all that only for him to die in such a way. Her breathing became heavy and her vision began to blur.

“I… I can’t tell her,” Onil all but sobbed. “Please, I know it’s not fair of me to ask this of you after you just came back here, but… could you do it? Please?”

Eryn’s head spun. What?

Remainders of her drowning mind insisted that this didn’t make any sense.

“Tell who?” she somehow managed to ask, though more out of a lifelong habit of clearing up whatever was unintelligible than out of real interest. The world and everything in it had stopped mattering.

Exasperated, Onil stared at her, as though this entire situation weren’t dire enough already without her lack of understanding making it even more exhausting.

“Plia! You need to tell her that Rhys is dead!” he pronounced overly clearly as if he were fearing that she had lost her mind. “Do you even understand what I am telling you? Plia’s companion has died!”

Eryn began shaking under the forceful wave of relief washing over her as she realised that it wasn’t Enric who had simply ceased to exist from one moment to the next, but someone else.

Then her mind caught up, and she closed her eyes as tears began running down her cheeks. Tears of heartfelt sorrow for her young friend and her unborn son who had just lost a companion and a father. And tears of relief about the fact that Enric was alive. Painful tears which felt treacherous and selfish, and yet they wouldn’t stop coming.

CHAPTER TWO

First Preparations

The memory of Plia, passing out and lying on the floor after hearing of her beloved’s fate, haunted Eryn while she sat at the table, behind her the unpleasantly hard backrest of a chair, which had never been intended for comfort.