Updated 5/3/24

Chapter 11

Parynna Caswell

Parynna knew she was plain. Her muddy brown hair and grey eyes set poorly in a round, flat face confirmed her boring life. She would never forgive Uncle Gregory for the arranged marriage that left her in despair.

Drake Caswell was a good prospect, if she was honest with herself. The Caswell family was respectable. They were, by anyone other than a Locke’s standards, well off. But she was a Locke. Parynna expected more. She wanted excitement. She wanted glamor. She wanted to be the center of attention. Always.

Her elder sister, Syrena, married a Melazera and lived in an extravagant mansion on the shores of the Sea of Glass. Her younger sisters, Veryca and Beryssa—both baronesses—floated between High Keep and Farr Castle as part of the Royal Court. Drake kept her shut up in Caswell Castle. He only thought of his circle.

But finally—finally!—they had visited Farr Castle. There she’d laid eyes on Caileagh Melazera and fallen in love—or, rather, lust. Not for the woman, but for the power she wielded, for the way she drew every eye to her as she entered a room, for having her every whim catered to. Men and women fawned over her, lavished praise on her, and—it was whispered—would do unseemly, unspeakable things to gain a single moment’s favor from her.

Parynna wanted to be Caileagh—yearned to be—ached to be.

On the final night of that first visit to Farr Castle, Parynna had been escorted into a private room where Caileagh was waiting. What occurred that night was something she never spoke of to anyone, but eleven assistants trained by the Order of the Black Robe followed her home. These she inserted as managers throughout her household to report back to her everything they saw and heard. They also brought her communication from Caileagh who taught her the hidden wisdom of the Alte Regieren. In the moons that followed, Parynna’s eyes were opened to a world of intrigue, endless possibility, and limitless advancement.

Parynna had not been happy in the early years of their arranged marriage. Drake had stopped trying to please her, making her feel even worse about her awful existence. All he cared about was his circle. He glowed as he fussed over these common people. But now she’d become engaged and was much more cheerful. Her eyes brightened with eagerness when they worked together. She had seen the light—Caileagh’s light.

Earl Gaelib Melazera’s wife had changed everything.

Drake was the youngest son of Mardom, the Sixth Earl of Caswell. His four older brothers had joined the Royal Guard. But Drake had sought the way of the Knights of J’shua and they could hold no title. As fifth in the line of succession, Drake’s father—an earl—had seen no reason to prohibit it.

So, Drake had become a knight in the same cohort as his friend Jonathan. Then he’d returned home to become his circle’s daikon and foster the largest gathering of the followers of J’shua ever known. That was when she’d been married off to Drake.

But once Caileagh revealed to Parynna hidden arts, she plied them to bring the earldom to her husband. His father and brothers all died in due time.

***

It was the first half-moon, summer, in the thirty-eighth year in the reign of King Edal. The meeting house nestled within the low outer walls of Caswell Castle. Parynna arrived with Drake early and she beamed as he admired the chamber, brightly lit with candles all around.

She smiled adoringly.

Before she had taken charge, it was a dull room. After much careful handling, the weavers guild had decorated it with luxurious tapestries featuring stories from the Writings. The largest, and Drake’s favorite, depicted J’shua sharing his last meal, tearing bread, and offering it to his disciples. J’shua’s face radiated with love and grace.

On the dais was a simple table covered with a pressed, white linen cloth. On it, an intricately carved bookstand made of mahogany held the Complete Writings of J’shua. Two large chandeliers designed by her and donated by the local glassmakers’ guild, were lit and raised.

Drake closed his eyes and inhaled deeply.

Even she savored the fragrance of lilacs and roses that emanated from vases at the ends of the oak benches. She knew he hoped it pleased Lord J’shua as much as it pleased him.

Drake had explained to her that it was his calling to become a Knight of J’shua. Part scholar, part cleric, and—in his case—a very small part warrior. The last being a skill only required when the Faith was in peril. He’d assured her the Serpent could never compromise his circle of devout followers. Not while he was the overseer.

She almost chuckled as she observed her success.

As people arrived for the service, he greeted each man as a brother with a holy kiss and gave them his personal blessing.

On the other side of the foyer, she smiled at him as she hugged each of the women as they entered. She was aware how it elated him that she had taken an active interest in his flock. She had learned to be entertaining, helpful, and complimentary from Caileagh.

I will be the perfect exemplar of the virtuous woman.

Now Parynna sat in the front row. Her long brown hair flowed over a perfectly pressed tunic and simple shift.

Drake glowed as she beamed a smile at him.

He started the service with the prayer of Mashiach, the people’s voices echoing in the lofty hall as they recited it with him. Then he gave the message he’d prepared. “He is like a man that built a house and dug deep, laying the foundation on a rock. When the flood arose, the stream beat vehemently upon that house but could not shake it.”

Drake smiled upon his favorites in the front row, and they smiled back. He gazed out over the congregation. “But he that hears and does not act is like a man who built his house with no foundation. When the storms raged, it fell into ruin.”

The unworthy shuffle in their seats under his gaze, staring at their feet. After his teaching, he asked for prayers and signaled those he thought should speak. Three members would stand and pray, as Drake expected.

My husband is the perfect example of the Faith.

As the service continued, Drake called the children to the front of the hall. He sat on the steps of the dais with them. Smiling over their heads, he nodded to their parents and the rest of the circle. Then he refocused on the youngsters as his puppeteers unveiled their stage.

“Long ago, a stranger washed up on the shores of the Sea of Glass,” he said as the marionette of a bedraggled man tottered into view and collapsed. “A child found him. Others came running.” More colorful puppets appeared on stage to enact the story of the First Knight and how the kingdom came to accept the words of J’shua and his Father.

“Many balked at the knight’s teachings,” Drake resumed. “But Olde King Weisheit summoned him, and he believed the beautiful words the First Knight conveyed from the God of Truth.

“So great did that monarch’s faith become that he gifted the knight land in the shadow of the Shining Mountain and established a school to train Knights of J’shua. Later, King Weisheit prophesied: when darkness comes, and the people falter, they shall be renewed in the Word of J’shua by a knight.”

The curtain closed for the last time.

The children smiled. They knew the story well but always enjoyed hearing it. At a nod from Drake, they ran back to their parents.

At the end of the service, he extended a hand to his wife, Parynna, indicating she should join him on the dais. He would miss her once she left that afternoon. “As many of you know, three ladies from our newly formed Orphans and Widows Charity are going to Farr Castle. There, they’ll study with Lady Melazera, bringing back skills to aid the least fortunate members of this circle.”

When the meeting was over, Parynna entered the room she’d chosen for her private ministrations. Servants had prepared the room with comfortable furnishings. Well made, plush, but understated to show a godly prosperity. Her place was not as high as Caileagh. She must use wisdom as she gathered her flock.

The eleven men in black backed into the shadows of the room, barely noticeable. Parynna prepared the libations. Then she prayed as Caileagh taught her while she waited.

An hour later, three of the wives that she had invited entered the room. She offered them food and drink and spoke kindly to them. She heard their concerns and desires. She determined how to alleviate them. She laid hands on them and gave each a word of prophecy. To the first she whispered. “You will prosper greatly this week. You have been under a bondage too great to bear, but the spirit will relieve it. The spirit of the lord is with us when we gather. Simply serve the spirit about you now. The fullness you feel is his touch. The spirit is well pleased with you. Seek him.”

Parynna was inspired to speak a comforting word to each of them.

The look of adoration these women gave her, thrilled her soul.

“You may each bring a worthy friend next week. It must be someone who is as pious as you are. For we will spread the charity of the spirit.”

An hour later, the eleven followed Caileagh out. As she reached the castle, she nodded and the eleven slipped away.

***

That afternoon, Parynna and her ladies enjoyed the countryside on the road to Farr, accompanied by servants and carts full of provisions. She’d planned stops so they could take rest and refreshment during the five-day journey. A young orphan boy rode above with the coachman. She hoped he wouldn’t disrupt her schedule.

“This time, Lady Melazera will receive only this single boy. She will place him with a good family. He’ll be a token of our resolve to follow in her footsteps and extend her virtuous efforts. In the future, we’ll place many more unwanted children. She’ll see that they find apprenticeships and have godly, productive lives. We have a duty to them.” Parynna smiled at her gullible companions.

Perhaps Caileagh will show me more uses for the unworthy.

A shiver of anticipation ran over her.

Chapter 12

Sarah

[Ages- Sarah 15   David 18   BH 25   J,Sg,Dr, Ga 37]

The giant twisted oak marked the final turn in the road leading to their cottage. “Beat you, Benj!” she yelled as she spurred the mare.

“No you won’t!” Her nine-year-old stepbrother, Benjamin, kicked his horse but shot into the forest. He was bound to win taking the short cut. Benjamin had been here only three moons ago, because he always traveled back and forth with Ma between Locke Castle and Carington. The village was home ever since they had escaped the debt collections. But Sarah lived in Lexandria being schooled in the ways of nobles as part of the agreement Ma made with the Lockes.

An old woman, Ned’s mother, rushed beside a tree as Sarah raced past. “Hallo, Mother Garvey. It’s good to see you,” she said with a wave.

Benjamin was sitting on the stoop grinning when she rode up.

“I suppose you won.” Sarah sat next to him waiting for Ma who drove the wagon. Benjamin grinned. As it clattered into the yard, she asked him, “Would you help me unload?”

He nodded. Benjamin grabbed a box as soon as Ma stopped. Together they finished in an hour, everything stowed in precisely the right places. Benjamin seemed very grown up as he elbowed the door carrying the last sack of lentils over his shoulder.

After the midday meal, Ma handed her a bundle of herbs. “Take these to Mother Garvey and say hallo to Ned.”

“Thank you Ma!” She grabbed her wooden practice sword as she ran out the door.

It had been five years since she saw Ned. Her fingers twisted the sleeve of her simple pale green dress. She hadn’t worn breeches in Lexandria—very unladylike—and none of her old clothes she’d left at home fit her. Her excitement grew as memories flooded back while she walked the familiar path.

In the distance, she spotted a tall boy chopping wood in the yard.

Who would Mother Garvey have hired to help her? Why wasn’t Ned doing it?

She sucked in a breath as her eyes took in the sight of him. Ned had changed. He was a man now. A lock of his long brown hair hid his face, having fallen out of the tail. When he brushed it behind his ear, she saw his features were sharper, but still soft. He took another swing with the axe and the split log hit the ground. He bent to toss them in his pile.

“Ned?”

He turned, a slight nervousness and a question formed in his eyes as he saw her. Then his expression lit up with recognition, but uncertainty flickered.

“ Sarah... Is it really you?”

“Yes, it's me. I've returned.” She glanced at her fingers, rubbing the fabric of her sleeve.

An awkward silence grew as they stared at each other taking in all the changes.

“It's been... five years, hasn't it?”

“Yes, it has. Two long years.”

“You look... different.”

“So do you. Taller, taller than I and... grown-up.”

Ned lowered his head, scratching the back of his neck. “Uh, thanks. You look... beautiful.”

Sarah's cheeks flushed at the unexpected compliment. “Th-thank you, Ned.”

Another awkward pause fell between them, sounds of village life warbled in the distance.

“So... how was your time away?”

“It was...eventful. I learned many new things.”

“That sounds...exciting.”

They exchange hesitant smiles, the tension easing slightly.

“It was. But I missed this place. Missed home.”

Ned nods, a small smile tugging at the corners of his lips.

“We missed you too. I mean, I missed you.”

Sarah's heart skipped a beat at his admission, and she offered him a shy smile. “I missed you too, Ned.”

Their gazes lingered, unsure how to bridge the space between them.

“My ma sent this bundle for your mother…and I brought my sword.” She smiled lifting the small wooden blade. “Have you been practicing while I was away?”

“Of course. Have you?”

“I did not have a good sparring partner in Locke Castle. You may best me yet.”

He struck the axe into the waiting log and ran into the cottage. When he returned he carried his practice sword, but also a metal sword in a leather sheath. “My da gave this too me after you left. Isn’t it beautiful?” He drew the blade out.

Sarah ran up to touch it. “It is wonderful. May I hold it?”

“Sure.” Ned handed her the sword.

“It’s heavy.” Sarah swung it in a figure eight. I would need a moon to gain the strength to wield this. Would you show me your practice routine?

“It is my pleasure.”

Sarah beamed with pride as Ned danced with the sword, crouching and lunging just as she had taught him years ago when they first met. Just as her real da had taught her.

When he came to the end, he bowed. She clapped her hands. “That was beautiful. I hope to have a real sword as well someday.”

“You will.” Ned laid down the sheathed sword and picked up the wooden one, tapping it against his palm. “Now, let’s see who wins this time.”

Sarah smiled, swirling her sword in the air. A few test strikes and then she attacks. She rushes in, attacking like a hornet, but Ned manages to block every strike. He returns, attacking her very ably. Though she parried each blow, she felt each strike up her arms. He had grown very strong. She circled around him, squeezing the sword tighter.

He charged. His barrage was terrifying and fast. The last strike flung her sword to the ground.

Her chest heaved with each breath as she picked up the sword. Ned was barely sweating. With a bow she said, “Clearly, you are the better swordsman now. I best find a real sword soon and practice to regain my lost ground.” She sat on a log.

“Sarah, you have taught me all I know.” Ned sat on another.

“Yes, well, we must find a better teacher. Have you seen Lyster, the manager of the hunting lodge, much?”

“Every so often. But we haven’t spoken more than to say hallo.”

“I’ve seen him often at Locke Castle when I go riding. He seems a friend. I’ll ask Lyster, if any of his men know the sword and would enjoy sparring with us.”

Ned’s eyes lit up. “That would be great!” He moved to hug her, but put a hand on her shoulder instead. “I’m so glad you’re here.”

“Me too.” Sarah rubbed her palms together. She didn’t understand why it had grown uncomfortable again. “Well, I must get back.”

“Oh, already?” Ned glanced down. “Well, I should finish the woodpile too.”

Sarah turned to go.

“Will you be at the community dinner tomorrow?”

Sarah grinned. “Of course. I wouldn’t miss it.”

Ned smiled back. “Good. I’ll look for you.”

***

Sarah’s eyes popped open. Horse hooves. Tonight was the night. Bradley Locke, the duke’s brother, rode up so fast and loud that Ma was at the door before he could dismount. Everyone knew what a night visit meant.

Sarah ran to her horse, secured her Ma’s pouch of remedies with the other things they took to every birth, and mounted. She was finally tall enough. She smiled at him, waiting for him to lead.

Though Ma returned to their old cottage in Carington regularly, Sarah joined her this time because one of the duke’s daughters lived in the western borderlands and was staying at the hunting lodge, at her father’s insistence, until the birth.

Sarah attended every Locke birth. They all trusted her after helping over the last seven years. Ma had taught her the herbs and roots and explained all the maneuvers to help when a birth was impeded. Although she never called her New Ma anymore, she made herself think it to remember she had a real ma and da out there somewhere. They were on a quest and would find her someday. She trusted J’shua they would.

The duke of Lexandria, Gregory Locke, expressed worry that Kennah wouldn’t make it in time. It was a two- or three-day ride to his daughter’s home in the wilderness. So he begged Lorena, to move into the hunting lodge, which was only a few miles from the Decker shanty. That way Ma would be close enough to assist at her birth.

“Don’t worry, Bradley,” Ma said, sitting tall in the saddle, eyeing the nervous uncle beside her. “We’ll make it. First babies always take longer, and your niece is a strong girl.”

“I know, Mother Decker. But you know how Gregory gets with anything involving his daughters,” Bradley said.

“I’ve seen your brother fret.” Ma grinned.

“Sarah, do we have skullcap and jasmine oil?”

“Yes, Ma. We have everything we need.” She smiled, eager to be going to another birth. The earthy smells, the red wriggly babies, and the way each momma nursed their new little one. She could stay awake forever. Best of all, everyone admired Ma. They even showed Sarah a bit of respect since she was Ma’s assistant.

After an hour ride, the big house appeared, the biggest for miles around. She remembered seeing it for the first-time years ago. Compared to anything in her humble village, or almost anywhere else, it was a grand estate. Gregory was the Duke of Lexandria and head of the Lockes, the wealthiest family in all of Freislicht. This was his hunting lodge.

As they approached, the duke was pacing on the porch.

“All’s well, Your Grace,” Kennah said. “We’re here.”

“Yes, yes, I know.” He waved them inside. “Don’t waste time soothing me.”

Sarah gave a bow, and the duke chuckled as Sarah hurried to follow her ma.

The deep moans of advanced labor met them when they entered. The birth was close. Lyrena swayed in her husband’s arms from the power of the last surge.

Sarah closed the door quietly, gave her ma one bag, and then set out the herbs and oils from the other.

Hours later, Lyrena’s bellowing stopped. The cry of a newborn child pierced the air.

They sent riders to announce the joy far and wide, for it was a boy. Gregory’s other daughters had only borne girls. Sarah hurried about to stoke the fire and bring the new momma a plate of food.

Hours later, Duke Gregory gave her a nod of thanks as they were leaving.

Sarah smiled sleepily all the way home.

***

The sun hung low, casting its golden glow over the rolling hills. A vibrant tapestry of wildflowers bloomed at the edge of the village commons. The ladies' favorite dishes overflowed the familiar long table. The other villagers milled about from one group to another, enjoying the peace and fellowship. Laughter mingled with the gentle rustle of leaves in the breeze.

Sarah wore the plainest shift she had, not wanting to stand out. She wasn't trying to hide her good fortune, but she didn't want to feel the distance that she'd felt earlier, talking with Ned. She didn't think she had changed, but clearly they both had. Tonight she wanted to just be home. Be normal.

Ned was standing with two other boys talking. One pointed at her and gave Ned a shove. They all laughed.

A rush of embarrassment ran through her and she glanced down, but kept walking toward him.

Ned turned, a grin spreading across his face as he strode toward her. His piercing brown eyes must see right through her.

Her heart pounding with excitement. Sarah probed all the changes in his face looking for the old friend she was so comfortable with. Then she hugged him tightly and sighed with relief. It wasn't awkward.

She spread the blanket beneath the shade of a small tree and sat gazing up at him. His eyes flitted over her until he blinked. The aroma of freshly baked bread and roasted meats filled the air as the woman took off all the lids. "I will make us plates. Wait here." He dashed off.

He returned shortly with two plates brimming with all her favorites.

"This is wonderful, Ned. I don't know if I can eat all this." she said with a laugh. "Thank you."

He handed one to her and they both set to the task of eating. They spoke of people and events during the time that passed. Their conversation flowed effortlessly, memories of their shared childhood flooding back as they reminisced. It was getting dark as Kennah approached, Benjamin trotting behind her.

“Hello Ned. It’s good to see you.”

He stood and gave a bow. “It is good to see you too, Mother Decker.”

Kennah smiled and continued walking. “We need to be getting home, Sarah. Say your goodnights.”

“I’ll be along right away, Ma.”

Ned took her hand and lifted her up. When they folded the blanket, their hands touched.

“There's something I've been working on for you. I prayed I would see you again.

Sarah tilted her head in curiosity as Ned retrieved a small, finely crafted wooden box from his pocket and placed it in her hands with a grin. “Open it.”

Her fingers trembled slightly as she lifted the lid of the box, revealing a delicate wooden flower, intricately carved with astonishing detail. Its petals capturing the essence of nature's beauty. “Ned, it's breathtaking. How did you...?”

“Do you like it? I carved it while guarding the sheep. I wanted it to be perfect, like you.”

Sarah’s heart overflowed as she gazed at the gift, a lump forming in her throat.

“Thank you, Ned. This means more to me than you'll ever know.”

“Let me walk you home.” He took her hand in his and they slowly made their way to the Decker cottage.

Chapter 13

Gaelib Melazera

@@@Add 1000 words.

Another military officer left his hall. Gaelib glowered. Receiving these messengers one at a time was annoying. But he couldn’t meet with them as a group. None could know the true reach of his black-robes within the military. And he did not want them to know each other. The Order of the Black Robe was pervasive now, at least one acolyte in every moneymaking enterprise and government office. Novices were even more prevalent, but they were not aware that they served him. An acolyte took an oath to the Warrior and shed blood in order to rise in the Order.

When he received reports from Commandant Greysun or any of the others that he had suborned in the military, Gaelib would think of Steven Blackhawk. He owned them, but Steven was so much more impressive.

He missed the boy, well, a man now, a captain. Especially when Caileagh went to her chamber to sleep, leaving him alone. That hadn’t always been true. There’d been others to warm and entertain him. There still were. But they lacked Steven’s innocent touch. All the others he’d trained lost that quality after only a few sessions. So he gave them back to Caileagh.

Gaelib yearned for Steven. He’d been gone for seven long years. But his big, beautiful smile appeared in his thoughts. Steven always reverently sought to please him.

As a captain, he will be important to my schemes. Steven Blackhawk has risen so swiftly, perhaps he would lead my army one day.

How he missed him. He sighed, shut his eyes, and recalled fifteen years earlier…

Gaelib was fourteen, a man by right. It had been freezing last night so Gaelib came early to start the fire in the dank chamber. Then he paced, rubbing his palms together in anticipation. Caileagh, his stepsister, had found and decorated it for them to meet in secret. The little graveyard was no longer suitable for their encounters.

That morning, she entered and held the door open as six little children shuffled in. All were about four years old and jumped about as she opened a package. Gaelib covered his nose while surveying the stained rags they wore. Had she found them in a pig sty?

“Be still,” she said sternly as she extracted one sweet from her parcel, presented it to the first, and watched the imp gobble it up gleefully while the others huddled around him, licking their lips, watching the lad chew and swallow. She made them wait, watching the next child receive the treat. She took her time delivering each one.

“You may come any morning for more…but only if no one sees you. If you are seen, I will send you far away. Do you understand?”

Next, Caileagh stoked the fire. Soon everyone dripped sweat. She removed her clothes leisurely, her eyes on Gaelib. He did the same, his eyes on her. They always made the room as warm as a sweltering summer day.

Caileagh stepped into a tub of cool water in a corner and encouraged a small dark-haired boy to join her. As she removed his clothes, she told him they would all receive fresh shirts after she bathed them. The other children hesitated, looking down at their soiled, tattered clothes. But once she had coaxed the first, the others began undressing as well.

Gaelib enjoyed watching them as he tossed their pungent, discarded rags, one after the other, into the fire. He lifted each child out of the water when she’d finished washing away the smell and handed them a piece of bread.

After they were all clean, they played “pinch-or-kiss,” Gaelib watched as Caileagh chased them around, pinching their cheek, or kissing it. Everyone giggled and laughed, naked children climbing over one another to catch someone. It reminded him of the scorching summer days he, Sagen, and the other boys had retreated to the royal baths.

They let the fire abate and the chamber grew cold. Gaelib and Caileagh dressed the children in plain linen shirts and breeches. They hugged each child, telling them that there would always be a safe place here, sending them to sneak away one by one.

Each time they appeared in the room, Caileagh gave the children food and a sweetened potion to make them happy and compliant. She and Gaelib played games with them for many weeks, with many variations, grooming the children to do anything.

Each day the Warrior encouraged him, said, “Please yourself. You need not serve anyone.”

One of those first six waifs was Steven Blackhawk. Whenever a child could not tell them their surname, they’d let them pick one. He’d piped up with, “Blackhawk.” He was a bold lad and would do anything without hesitation. They gave him many tests. He’d snuck into the Farr Castle kitchens and returned with the cook’s rolling pin. Another time he’d been sent to steal the signet ring of the local herald. He’d come in with it in under an hour. And he replaced them as well without getting caught.

When Blackhawk was seven, Gaelib made the boy his page. He jealously guarded him against Caileagh’s interest. This boy was his alone. She could do what she liked with the others, but not Steven. He taught Steven to ride and use weapons, gave him lessons in warfare and tactics. Every day, he encouraged Steven that he’d be a great warrior if he obeyed and protected his lord. Every night, they played.

Gaelib wondered what Blackhawk was like now.

Would he still worship and seek to please me?

He fretted about the eventual betrayal. Could he kill Steven as he did all the others that displeased him?

Chapter 14

Jonathan

Jonathan scanned the crowd as he walked through another small village eighteen miles west of Fairness Crossing. It was market day. Farmers and those living on the outskirts came to buy, sell, or both. Tinkers, clothiers, saddle makers, and others had their stalls open, attracting people with shouts and songs. The smell of freshly baked bread, lamb braising on a spit, and sweet delicacies laced the air.

It all made him homesick.

A blonde girl ran past. Her similarly colored mother gave chase, calling her name and threatening a paddling if she didn’t behave.

The youngster was the same age as Sarah would be, about eleven.

It had been nine years since he’d lost his daughter. No, since they took her. She’d have grown up without him, without her mother. Would he even recognize her?

He’d know her eyes, her smile, and her laugh. But…

Sarah’s grandmother was a Locke, with fine-boned frame, full lips, and high, rosy cheekbones. Sarah favored her. Yet here in the south, close to Lexandria to the west, there were many blondes. He counted six on the street and another two hanging out of windows, yelling down to friends. They could be Sarah’s age.

A carriage drawn by four horses approached, surrounded by well-armed men. Jonathan backed into a shaded alley. As it passed, he recognized the Locke’s crest on its side, a white wolf on a purple field.

“Make way!” The carriage driver yelled, clearly angry at being delayed. “Make way for the Duchess of Lexandria and the midwife who delivered another Locke boy!”

He could see several women and a blonde girl through the window. Straining to get a better look—oof.

Something smashed into the back of Jon’s knees, dropping him to the ground.

He reached for his sword. But another drew it as hands dragged him deeper into the alley. He thrashed to free himself, pulling a hidden dagger from his boot. About to swipe at the closest neck, he glimpsed familiar red hair bending over him. “Eikhan? You couldn’t just tap me on the shoulder?”

Magistrate Gorum’s son shrugged. The men accompanying him released the knight but stood ready.

“Apologies, Sir Otual. I warned them.” Eikhan grinned sheepishly, nodding toward his men. “But they were worried you might react rashly. Your notorious legend of the wild man is well known in Esthlanis.” Eikhan offered his hand.

Jonathan took it. “There are safer ways to get my attention.”

“Father sent me to find you. A suspicious man came to the estate seeking you. He’s not the first, but this one…”

“What?”

“The man was loitering about town for some moons. An untrustworthy type who knew too much about too many, had too many baden, and spent too many hours watching people he shouldn’t know. He knew who David was. Some of the other estate owners wanted to move him on. Father insisted on surveillance. A good thing too.”

“Why?”

“When your wife came to take David to the Knights’ School, the man attempted to follow them. Our men intercepted him. Rather forcefully, I’m told. Before being allowed to—eventually—go on his way, he became most forthcoming. There’s a private bounty on your head. Not merely the false charges made against you in Freislicht—this is prize money for any who can capture you, dead or alive.”

“That is disturbing. Did the man say who was behind it?”

Eikhan shook his head. “He said his contact was a man named Rosewud.”

Jonathan scowled. “I have met him.”

“You must take the most extreme care. Father offers you sanctuary should you ever need it. However, for everyone’s sake, he said not to come directly to the estate. Instead, go to the abandoned mine-works southeast of town.”

Jonathan frowned. He knew the place. It was many miles from the Gorum Estate but closer to the Freislicht border and the sea. “How would you know I was there?”

“The mine is being put to…new uses. Storing weapons and materials for when the Esthlani come to your country’s aid. A group called Licht Gegen oversees it, although Father refuses to discuss it with me.”

“All are interesting developments, yet I do not understand how you found me. If you can do so, others will.”

“Father sent me because, of all his sons, I hear J’shua’s voice most clearly. The path took more than a moon. He’s sent you provisions, some baden, as he was sure you’d lack for funds, and two horses.”

“That is far too generous—”

“Do not refuse these minor gifts. He’s given twenty-five horses to your fellowship. David brought us good fortune. And great prosperity. This is the merest token of the blessings granted to us since your son’s arrival. And…”

“And what, Eikhan?”

“I want to ride with you, but Father forbids it. He said that you do not need a bodyguard, but when you need an army, we’ll be there.”

Jonathan took Agon’s package, overwhelmed by the risks his friend and his friend’s son were willing to take for him. “Thank your father. And thank you too.”

Chapter 15

Sarah - 299

[Ages- Sarah 15   David 18   BH 25   J,Sg,Dr, Ga 37]

Sarah emerged from the woods carrying a woven reed basket full of purple coneflowers, goldenseal roots, and birch bark. The wooden training sword rocked back and forth on her hip. Her dagger nestled on the other. She kept it sharp so she could harvest medicinal herbs without damaging the rest of the plant.

Last night, she had a dream. Such a silly dream, but it gave her a good feeling. She had a bright, glowing sword and whoever she touched with it was healed. She patted her sword. Not what they normally do.

In five moons, she would be twelve, and her da would give her a metal sword. These thoughts made her stand taller. But the large basket made her wobble as she trudged up the hill toward the ma’s workshop.

She barely remembered them, her first ma and da.

First Da smelled wild, like a long hunt or a wrestling match. His massive sword hung high on a hook by the door. That meant he was home. His hair was as blond as a pale moon.

First Ma was slim and graceful. She wore an apron that day. Whenever she tried to picture her…

The tears in Ma’s eyes as she dropped me out the window. Running, running, running through the tall grass as it slapped my face. My heart pounding as I prayed, hidden under leaves in the woods, just like Da showed me. J’shua told me I would be safe and whispered the passage.

[Let the peace of God rule in your heart.]

She’d never forget them. But she had. Details had slipped away without notice as each day lapsed. All she knew now was the empty place in her heart.