The D'Karon Apprentice (69 page)

BOOK: The D'Karon Apprentice

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Ether stood quietly in the corner of the main
hall, arms crossed and eyes distant. Food was being set out, and
off in one corner a few apple crates were being stacked into a
stage of sorts under Ivy’s supervision. As she watched, lost in
thought, a servant stepped up to her, bowing low.

“Guardian Ether,” said the servant, a young
man.

She didn’t answer, merely shifting her gaze
to him.

“I was told to inform you when your guest
arrived.”

“Good. Show her in.”

He stepped quickly to the task, slipping
outside and entering again guiding an older woman by the hand. She
was dressed neatly, her outfit a faded and ancient blue, the gown
of a woman who had set it aside for special occasions and had had
little use of it for far too long. Her eyes were wide with wonder,
sweeping the room and gaping at dignitaries and warriors she’d
never dreamed she’d see. Then her eyes met Ether’s and instantly
became misty.

Ether stepped forward and took her hand,
dismissing the servant and leading her to the private corner in
which she’d been standing.

“Guardian Ether,” she said, offering a
reverent curtsy. “I… I don’t know what to say. How do I thank you
for summoning me here? This sight, so many great people in one
place… it is far too grand a sight for these old eyes.”

“Celia, you need not say anything,” Ether
said. She paused, for a rare moment uncertain of how to properly
voice her thoughts. “I… it has been said, by those I have learned
are quite wise, that when our minds are not as they should be, when
our hearts are heavy and the way forward is unclear, there is value
in having someone in which to confide. Family. There are those I
would call my allies. I am certain they would hear my words and
offer their thoughts but… there are matters I would prefer not to
share with those whom I would fight beside.

“I know that you feel a connection to me
because the face I’ve come to call my own once belonged to someone
dear to you. Though it is not truly a thing of blood, through this
connection you are the nearest thing to true family I have.”

Celia reached out, intending to place a hand
on Ether’s shoulder, but she held back, uncertain if doing so was
proper for someone in so exalted a position.

“Guardian Ether, if ever there is anything
you need to say, I could think of no greater honor than to be the
one you confide in.”

Ether tipped her head. “You have my thanks.”
She glanced up to see that Myranda was leaving the back room. “One
moment.” She raised her voice and called, “Myranda, come here for a
moment.”

Myranda obliged.

“Myranda, this is Celia.”

Celia again curtsied. When she spoke, her
voice was hushed. “The Duchess of Kenvard. It is an honor so far
beyond me to have the privilege of meeting you.”

“Please, stand. There is no need for that,”
Myranda said.

“It is my understanding,” Ether said. “That
for favors of the sort I have requested, it is customary to
compensate.”

“Oh, you needn’t—” Celia began.

“And to properly perform the service I have
requested of you, only one reward seemed appropriate. I have little
skill as a healer. In my existence I have seldom had the need. But
Myranda is quite able in that regard. She has agreed to pay my debt
to you with this gift.”

“I don’t understand…” Celia said. “I am not
ill, not injured.”

“Just hold still. You shall understand in a
moment,” Myranda said.

Myranda placed her hands to Celia’s temples.
At first she offered no reaction, but when it came, it came in
waves. Her eyes darted about, tears streaming down her cheeks. She
sobbed once, then gasped, putting her hands to her ears.

“I trust this compensation will be
sufficient,” Ether said.

At the sound of the shapeshifter’s voice,
Celia looked at her, stricken with emotion. Without warning she
threw herself forward, embracing Ether and sobbing openly.

“I… I never thought I would hear her voice
again…” she said, squeezing tight. “Thank you. Thank you…”

Ether looked to Myranda, uncertain and
uncomfortable. Myranda gave her a hard look. Slowly the
shapeshifter returned the embrace, the gesture wooden and
awkward.

“Yes… You are welcome. … And thank you…”

For a time there was only the din of the
dining call, but a few moments later a voice cut through it
all.

“Excuse me!” Ivy called. “Before we enjoy the
delicious meal that has been prepared, I’ve been asked to perform a
short song that has deep meaning to our friends from Tressor. I
hope you all enjoy it.”

Celia, unwilling to release Ether from her
embrace, simply held her tight as, for the first time in years, she
heard music lilt through the air.

The feast lasted long into the night. It
wasn’t until the first rays of sun were coloring the sky that
Myranda and Deacon were finally able to get on their way. Myn bid a
reluctant goodbye to Garr, then carried the wizards off.

It was only a short distance from Five Point
to New Kenvard, at least by dragon-back. The trio arrived as the
noon bells chimed. Myn, tired from the trip, quickly plodded off to
rest. Myranda and Deacon entered their home, eager to see Greydon,
but they didn’t find him there. In truth, they hadn’t expected to.
Without words, they walked to the edge of town, out through the
gates.

There, stretching along the southern section
of the city wall, was a sequence of marble slabs. Each slab had
dozens of names carved into it, the names of each man, woman, and
child who had fallen with the city. The victims of the Kenvard
Massacre. Before one of the slabs stood Celeste, his hands folded
and his eyes cast toward the monument.

Myranda took her place beside him and turned
to the stone as well. Carved into the marble, one name among many,
was Lucia Celeste. Had the city not fallen, the family would have
at this moment been celebrating her birthday.

She reached aside and took her father’s hand,
lacing her fingers with his. Deacon clutched her other hand. There
were words that could have been said, solemn hymns that could have
been spoken, and deep truths shared. Instead, they stood in
reverent silence. In some moments, family and togetherness are all
that is required.

In a forest on the eastern edge of the
Northern Alliance, just beside the mouth of a cave littered with
faded warnings, the bushes shuddered and twitched. From between
them trudged a beast crafted from the remains of many. His motions
were sluggish, skittering, spidery legs faltering with every few
steps. Nonetheless he raised his head, peering into the darkness of
the cave, and released a low chitter. Taking a breath and gathering
his strength, he pressed on, into the darkness of the Cave of the
Beast…

Elsewhere, in a place without a name, there
was only darkness. After a silent eternity in the inky void, a
voice rang out, echoing through the endless expanse, speaking
strong and clear.

“Sister… dear sister… what
have
you
done…”

###

From The Author

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