Lines of Fire (The Guild House - Defenders Hall) (3 page)

Kalia shook her head. “Father intends to bond me to Petan.”

Her mother backed away. “He mentioned he had chosen a mate for you. He said the man would be a power among the Defenders. Why are you angry? Your brother trusts this young man.”

“He shouldn’t.” Kalia grimaced. “I don’t like him.”

“How can your father be wrong?  He’s clever at choosing those who are heart bound.”

“This time he failed. Years ago Father ordered Robec to become Petan’s friend. That was before they entered training. Who is Petan? No one knows where he was born.”

“Does that matter? He has shown skill with the sword and knife.”

“Don’t you worry about me? Petan killed two bondmates.”

“Rumors spread by men jealous of the favor this young man has found with your father.” She reached into her pocket. “Since you are to be bonded, this is for you.” She drew out a glittering bracelet.

“Where did you get this? I’ve never seen another like it.”

“My dearest friend passed it to me before she entered the abyss. Her bondmate was your father’s best friend. He fled to the rebels and broke their bond. Your father brought the news to her and offered comfort. She turned away and only spoke to her young children. They were sent to be fostered. There had been a third child who was stolen by his father.”

Kalia felt the weight of the bracelet with its links of silver, gold, electrum and copper. She had read of bracelets of other metals in the ancient records but they had been just made from a single metal.

“It’s beautiful.” She kissed her mother’s cheek and prayed the older woman wouldn’t be drained to death during her stay with the Swordmaster.

She watched her mother walk to the door. Robec had remained outside. Kalia wondered why her mother stayed in these quarters. Many bonded woman whose mates didn’t go on patrol lived with their mates.

A thought occurred. If her mother remained with the Swordmaster she would die. If I am bonded to Petan, so will I. She darted into her sleeping chamber and threw herself on the bed. What am I going to do?

The special knock announced her younger sister. Lasara didn’t wait for an invitation. She crossed the room and sat on the edge of the bed. “Are you excited? In three days you will choose your first bondmate.”

Kalia wiped her eyes on the blanket. “Excited, no. Scared, yes. I intend to refuse the man Father has chosen for me.”

“Why?”

Kalia sat up. “Would you bond with Petan?”

Lasara’s eyes widened. “Ugh. Why does Father get to choose?”

“Some plan of his to make sure Robec follows him.”

“What will you do if he tries to force a duel?”

“Saddle my bihorn and ride away.”

Lasara’s shoulders slumped. “Won’t you be afraid? You’ve never been away from the Hall except during the training exercises.”

“I will be frightened. Better scared than bonded to a man with tainted lines.”

“Where will you go?”

Since she had no real plans she shrugged. “Just away from here.”

Lasara stayed for a bit longer. After she left Kalia found the pack she’d used just once when she trained. She’d refused to be part of a patrol and only bonded women were sent with their mates to tour the sectors. She sat on the bed and tried to plan an escape.

Chapter
2

On the second day of his stay in the Defenders Hall, Alric skipped breaking his fast to explore the Archives. He entered the shelf-lined room and lit several lanterns. After studying the labeled shelves, he pulled volumes for the years just before he left the Hall. He had been five so his sibs must have been younger. Each of the hand-written books began with a listing of the names of the members of the patrols, their bondmates and number of children. He couldn’t find his father’s name. Were the pages missing?

He took later books and scanned the lists for the children sent to be fostered in villages or on farms. He groaned. The listings weren’t by name but by sex and no mention was made of their destination. Even if he had searched the day he’d arrived for training, he wouldn’t have learned anything.

There had been no time for research in those hectic days. And since joining a patrol he’d been away from the Hall for most of the time. Other things had seemed more important than learning about his siblings. Each round of a sector lasted a year and a patrol moved from sector to sector until all four had been covered before returning to the Hall. During the year of residence in the Hall between patrol assignments, Sando had sent him on special missions. His patrol leader had known of the Swordmaster’s animosity.

Alric slammed the last of his chosen volumes shut. He wanted answers. The connection he’d felt to Jens had been strong. Was the desert rider his brother? Jens had lived in the Hall until he turned three. There’d been a sister but Jens hadn’t remembered having one. Was the sister older or younger?

Sadness filled his thoughts. Even after twelve years he missed his father. His memories of the tall man with the haunted green eyes filled his thoughts. He had no memories of anything before reaching the distant village.

The lanterns flickered. He turned a few more pages and knew his search was futile. Children had been sent from the Hall but the lack of any real information stymied him. Did the Swordmaster know? Asking the older man was a dead-end. The leader of the Defenders would never tell.

Alric closed the book. There were no answers here.

One by one he returned the volumes to the shelves, making sure they were placed in the proper order. He selected several more from the years before he had turned five. He wanted to look at the records of his father’s service as a Defender. As he read the records he discovered his mother’s name. Jenla. Nothing else was noted, not even his birth. His father had been a remarkable dueler. Reading the words of accomplishments brought a warm feeling.

Then he came upon a page covered with ink. Only a single name remained. Alron. Banished.

His stomach growled. He rose and glanced outside. Midday. He returned the books to the shelves and blew out the lanterns. After leaving the Archive he strode to the refectory. He lifted a wooden tray and selected a variety of dishes.

One of his patrol members waved. “Over here,” Ganor called.

Alric carried the laden tray to the long table where his patrol sat.

“When did you get in?” his patrol leader asked.

“Last evening. Reported to the Swordmaster, bathed, ate and slept. Spent the morning in the Archives.”

Sando leaned forward. “Kept expecting you to join us on the road.”

Alric’s shoulders slumped. “Had to think.”

“No shame the bonding didn’t take. She would never have been comfortable as a Defender.”

Masine, Sando’s bondmate nodded. “Did she find what she wanted?”

Alric grinned. “Her childhood friend waited for her.”

The patrol leader’s wife clasped his hand. “Never understood why some girls are chosen for our ranks. Can tell during training they won’t fit.”

Ganor clapped Alric’s back. ‘Choice is yours this time.”

“Perhaps.”

“What do you mean?” Sando asked. “Third choice belongs to the man or woman. The Swordmaster must allow you a year to find your mate and a year or more for the deciding on the length of the bond.”

Alric finished a banta leg. “The Swordmaster has made a choice for me. I told him I would refuse. He said I couldn’t and mentioned some kind of unwritten exception.”

Sando propped his elbows on the table. “There is no such rule. Refuse his choice. We’ll stand beside you. Our leader has made odd decisions lately. There’s been talk.” He shrugged. “We’ll discuss this at practice. Come to the salle with us.”

“Good idea to practice,” Ganor said. “Sure to be at least one challenge tomorrow, especially when you’ve decided to refuse.”

Alric nodded. He was sure to be one of the challenged. Who would fight the duel, the woman or a champion she chose? There were few members of the Defenders present in the Hall he couldn’t defeat.

A stir at the door drew his attention. Robec entered. For once his shadow wasn’t at his side. A young woman ran after him. Unlike the garb usually worn by the women, she wore tight trousers and a vest without a shirt. Her voice rang over the normal buzz of the voices.

“You tell your father I’m the one you choose as your mate or I’ll tell him what you’ve done.”

“I’ve done nothing.” Robec shook off her hand. “You’re not for me. My father has selected the best dueler among the returning patrols as your bondmate.”

“Aren’t you the best? Isn’t that what you always say? So does Petan. Are you liars?”

“Who is she?” Alric asked.

Sando leaned forward. “No one you want to know. Though her father is the Right Hand, she should have been fostered. She has been chosen twice and both have left the Defenders in disgrace.”

Alric frowned. “Then the Swordmaster plans to name her as my chosen.” He studied her lines of fire and noted they were the palest he’d ever seen on anyone standing as a Defender.

She reached for Robec again. Her hand rolled down his arm.

He pulled away. “Do not touch me again or I’ll see you banished.”

Her lines flared brighter. Had Robec’s faded when she touched him. But she had no darkness in her lines. This was another puzzle to solve.

Alric finished his meal and went with the members of the patrol to the salle. After drawing stones they divided into two teams for a melee. With practice swords and knives the game began. The blunted blades had colored chalk on all points and along the edges to show where a wound occurred and the severity.

He laughed and allowed his frustration over the futile search of the records and his annoyance with the Swordmaster’s attempt to control his bonding and guide his actions. The group melee ended when he took a fatal wound and delivered one to the patrol leader.

Alric leaped to his feet and slapped Sando’s back. “Good fight.”

“Agreed. I believe you’re ready to face any man who challenges you.” Sando grinned. “To the baths.”

As Alric joined the men and women of the patrol walking from the salle, he noticed Robec and Petan had been among the spectators. Petan’s scowl contrasted with the admiration on Robec’s face.

He turned to Ganor. “We were watched.”

“Looks that way,” Alric’s friend said. “Maybe scouting the opposition. Neither belongs to a patrol.”

“I wonder why?” Alric asked.

Sando moved closer. “No patrol will have Petan in their ranks these days. The deaths of his two bondmates occurred when there was no one to testify as to the cause. The Swordmaster refused to allow the Justicars to examine him. He also refused to risk his heir being injured or defeated in a duel.”

“Then I guess Robec won’t challenge me.”

The older man shrugged. “He might be named as a champion for someone. After the baths, I suggest we exercise our steeds.”

“Good thought,” Ganor said. “Is Storm Cloud up for a race?”

“He’s rested since we returned.” Alric followed the men inside, undressed and slid into the hot pool. “You’re on for the race.”

Sando tossed Alric the soap. “Bothers me that Petan witnessed the melee.”

“Why?”

“He’ll be the Swordmaster’s choice to face you in a challenge,” Sando said.

Alric shrugged. His ability to read the lines would help, especially with the sluggish movement he’d seen in the blighted lines of his enemy. As he scrubbed chalk marks from his arms, chest and throat, he wondered if Sando knew anything about his father’s banishment and where his sibs had been sent.

He swam to the slide into the rinse pool and listened to his companions discuss the coming meeting of the returned patrols. Of all the members, he was the only one without a bondmate. Some of the men mentioned women they wanted him to meet. He knew who he wanted to choose but he didn’t know her name. How could he learn?

Alric rubbed himself dry. “Who’s up for the race?”

Six of the men followed him to the stables.

As he saddled Storm Cloud, the bihorn seemed restless. Alric laughed. “Been resting too long?” He held several apelons on his hand for the steed. “We’ll beat them all.”

Once the riders lined up outside the gates, Sando raised his hand. “To the first crossroads.”

Alric’s whoop joined those of his friends. They raced down the road. Not more than fifty yards from the gate Storm Cloud reared. Alric grasped the steed’s horns to keep from being thrown. The other riders streaked ahead. Alric dismounted and checked his bihorn’s hooves. From one he pulled a wide brass nail.

“Looks like the race is over for us.” He grasped the reins and led the limping animal to the gate. Who had done this and why?

* * *

Kalia helped her mother into bed. The older woman’s lines of fire were as pale as the ones Ilna sported most of the time. Only when the other young woman had been with a man did her lines show any vitality. A kiss or a touch seemed to be enough to change them. Was that phenomena related to what happened to the Swordmaster’s wife after a stay in his quarters?