Queen (Brotherhood of the Throne) (26 page)

“Brenna, thank you for joining us,”
Filbee said. “Help yourself to some breakfast. We’re on the last of the fresh food
today, so enjoy it.”

“Thank you,” Brenna said. She
wasted no time piling a plate high with thick slices of black bread, roast
venison and slices of apple the ship had picked up in the village. “What do we
eat after this?” she asked.

“I’m afraid it’s a diet of salt
fish, journey bread and cheese from now on. The cook assures me there are
enough apples for a nice applesauce for supper tonight, though not enough for
one apple per man.”

“We should be in Whitehaven in two more
days,” Brenna said. “Hardly enough time to get tired of anything.”

“That’s something we need to talk
about Brenna,” Dasid said, refilling the mugs with tea.

“We hope to be in Whitehaven in two
days,” Filbee said. “But I’m worried about the weather. It’s been calmer than
usual since we set sail and this time of the year that means a big blow is on
its way.” Filbee leaned across the table. “Chaffer told me that you’re able to control
the weather some.” Brenna nodded. “Does that include making the wind stop?”
Another nod. “Good. Brenna, with your help, we’ll make port on time.”

The storm hit them early in the
afternoon of the fourth day. Up until then Brenna had been able to guide a steady
wind and fill the sails. Suddenly the sky darkened and a rush of wind and rain
swept in off the open sea. Brenna was buffeted as she clung to the railing. Teeth
clenched, she
reached
into the storm and gentled the wind. She had to
concentrate so much on managing the wild power of the storm that she didn’t
notice Wils until he looked down into her face. He grinned as he gripped her
arm tight.

“Do you need to be out here to do
this?” he asked.

Brenna shook head. “No, but it will
be fine in a moment.” The churning wind died down to a stiff breeze and once
again the sails billowed out purposefully. The cold rain fell straight down and
she wiped it away from her eyes. “There,” Brenna said looking around in
satisfaction.

“By Jik,” Wils swore. He stared
past her shoulder.  “We’re in the middle of the storm but the ship is calm.”
Brenna followed his gaze to the swirling rain and rough seas that were just
beyond the barrier she was maintaining.

“Very impressive,” Captain Filbee
said as he joined them at the rail. “I’ll have a fine tale to share with that
scoundrel Chaffer when I run into him next. How long can you hold this course
Brenna?”

“I’m not sure. At least for the
rest of the day and likely much of the night.”

“Longer if you allow me to help,”
Dasid said, joining the group.

Brenna shook her head, frowning.
She wouldn’t use him the way she’d used Gaskain. That was one thing she would
never do again. Her own strength would have to be enough.

“We’ll see how the storm runs her
course,” Filbee said. “But this time of year it’s not unusual for them to last
a few days.

“I’ll see if I can push back out to
sea,” Brenna said. “Or maybe south of us.”

“Out to sea would be best,” Filbee
said. “There’d be more ships south. I’d not like to think we’d sent a dangerous
storm where it wasn’t expected.”

Brenna spent the rest of the day
keeping the storm away from the Swiftsure. She found that if she worked with
the storm’s power and subtly nudged it away from the ship, she used less of her
own energy. Once she was confident that she would be able to keep the ship in
the centre of a calm patch of sea, she spent some time trying to shift the
storm back onto itself and push it out to sea. That proved beyond her skills
and strength - when she tried to force the storm and control its direction, the
power slammed into her senses with an intensity that almost overwhelmed her.

Sitting quietly in the captain’s
cabin, Brenna nursed her aching head. After more than ten hours her energy was flagging.
She loosened her control just slightly and the deck pitched violently. She clung
to the edges of the hammock she was in and concentrated on the storm.

“Are you all right?” Dasid asked
from across the room.

“Yes.” She tightened her control of
the ship. “It was the equivalent of stretching, that’s all. Sorry.”

“If you’re getting tired, please
draw from me.”

“No,” she shouted and she saw him
wince. “I told you I will never do that again.”

“You’d rather everyone on this ship
die,” he said quietly. “I for one would rather die knowing that everyone else
on board would live because of me.”

“That’s not going to happen.”
Brenna stood up and headed for the door. "I’ll figure something out.” She
left the room and hurried along the hall towards the stairs.

Once on deck Brenna found a dry
spot under a dinghy. She’d find a way to get the power, she had to, she thought
as she huddled against a coil of rope. Lightning flashed across the sky,
followed by the crack of thunder and Brenna stared out at the dark swirling
clouds. The storm had too much force for her to manage, yet her own power was waning.
She could feel herself weakening as she sat in the center of her spell.
Tentatively, she reached out to the storm again, this time, not with the
intention to master it, but with a caress. And she felt the power swirling
around her own depleted stores. Gently, as though she was sipping a hot drink,
she gathered some of the storms power to her.

And instantly felt wild and raw,
elemental, as the storms energy coursed through her. She siphoned the raw power
into her spell, strengthening it. Eventually she became aware that her heart
beat was slowing back to normal and her blood settled back to a steady passage
through her body.

By dawn the storm had abated and
Brenna was drenched with sweat. The wildness of the storms power stayed with
her and when Pater found her, she scuttled away from him. It was almost half an
hour before she understood his words. Finally she let him lead her away to a
warm blanket and a bowl of soup.

Kane leaned back against the wall
and ran his hand through his hair. It was growing and was no longer military
short. He smiled when he thought about what Brenna would say. Then his smile
turned into a worried frown. He hadn’t heard from her last night. They hadn’t
planned any long discussions but for the past few nights she’d sent him a quick
good night and he’d missed hearing from her.

 For three days he’d been stuck
inside this small room with only Eryl for company. And thank Jik that Eryl had
spent the last two nights prowling around his old haunts - it would have been
so much worse with two of them cooped up inside this little room. At least
there was food and water. And news from Marcus Brunger. Kane reached for the folded
notes Marcus had sent to them. He’d already read them over and over and could
recite the contents by heart.

“Guild Master please inform our
mutual acquaintance that all is well in the river town. Our harvest proceeds at
a faster pace than expected and will be ready when needed.” The note was signed
simply with a G. It was from Gaskain, telling him that the troops were almost
ready, written when he had still been alive. He stared at the signature.

Gaskain’s death had hit Brenna hard,
and while Kane could mourn his loss he was grateful for his sacrifice.

As Captain of the Kingsguard he’d
sent men to their deaths. Not deliberately, but every time he issued orders he
knew that there was a chance that men could die while carrying them out. And
when he’d been in the ranks following orders he’d always been aware that he
might not come back from a mission. That was a part of life as a soldier, as a
leader of soldiers. Brenna would need to come to terms with that part of being
a leader. They were preparing for war in the spring - she had to stop thinking
like a healer and start thinking like a queen. 

Kane folded the note up and placed it
in his vest pocket. He took out his knife and wiped the blade down with a rag.
Sighing, he put his knife away. His weapons were in the best condition they’d ever
been in. He’d cleaned and sharpened and oiled them multiple times in the last
three days. He’d even asked Eryl to get some leather and tools from Marcus. The
next task would be to replace the grip on the knife. Not that it needed it -
the grip on there now had years of use left, but he needed something to do.

He heard a scuffling from outside
and Kane tensed until the signal was tapped out on the wall. Seconds later he
had a brief glimpse of a dull sky as Eryl slipped through the door.

“Here’s the goods from Marcus.”
Eryl tossed a wrapped bundle to him and Kane caught it, his hand sinking into
the soft leather covering. “Hope its all right.”

“It should be,” Kane said, untying
the bundle to let the awl and knife drop out. “It will keep me occupied for a
few hours, anyway. Did Marcus have more news?”

“No.” Eryl shook his head and
placed a second package on the table. He unwrapped a small loaf of bread and
tossed it to Kane. “It’s hot, so be careful.”

“It’s fresh,” Kane said. “Eryl, you
are a good man.” He tore a small bit of bread off and popped it into his mouth.
He sighed as he chewed.

“As I said, Marcus didn’t have
news,” Eryl looked at him expectantly.

“But there is news?”

“It’s all over town. King Beldyn is
about to name his heir.”

Kane nodded. “Who’s it to be?”

“No one knows for sure but Thorold’s youngest son, a lad of about ten, just arrived in town today. He’s staying with Thorold at his estate.”

“So he’ll name his brother as heir.
I suppose it’s expected, but knowing Thorold I have to wonder,” Kane said “Have
any of your men seen Beldyn?” He was worried about the youth. The night of the
fire something had taken place between Beldyn and his father, something that
Thorold would want to punish his son for. Could naming his brother as heir be
part of that punishment?

“He’s been seen by the High Bishop
at least twice, according to my sources,” Eryl said and Kane looked up to meet
the other man’s serious gaze. “Each visit lasted a few hours and he had to be
helped into the carriage for the trip back to the castle. No marks were seen on
him though.”

“There wouldn’t be,” Kane said. “Neither
Thorold nor the High Bishop would dare leave proof that they are hurting the
king. We need to find a way to help Beldyn. If Thorold’s younger son is to be
the heir, I fear that makes the king expendable.”

“His own son?” Eryl said in
disgust. “Would he do that?”

“He’s already killed one king. And
sending Beldyn to the High Bishop is not the act of a loving father.”

“No, you’re right. I’ll try to find
out more about the younger boy,” Eryl said. “The ceremony to name an heir is to
be public, four days from now in the square in front of the church of the
One-God.  Right now I need some sleep.”  Eryl dropped down onto the pallet and
pulled his cloak over him. “It’s good to back to normal - sleeping in the day
and working at night,” he said before he rolled over.

Kane finished his bread as well as
half of the chunk of cheese he found in the cloth on the table. Then he sat
down to rewrap his knife hilt. As he worked the leather he mulled over the
problem of Beldyn. Was it time to get him to safety? The more he thought about
it the more likely it seemed that Thorold was threatening the lad in order to
make him compliant. But if Beldyn underestimated his father and rebelled too
much, he’d be dead. He was safe only until his brother was named his heir. Four
days, that was the window they had, four days. Not enough time to get their
troops in place, not even enough time to get word to them, since Brenna wasn’t
able to contact anyone else in Silverdale.

That was a strategic error, on his
part. He knew communications were the key so he should have made sure they had
more than one contact in place. But he’d thought that
Brenna
would be in
Silverdale. He hadn’t anticipated that she would leave to help the slaves and
then head off to talk to King Mannel. But still, it was his error - he’d agreed
to both of Brenna’s missions and yet he hadn’t arranged to secure the lines of
communication.

Slipping his hand to his sword
hilt, he tried to contact Brenna. When there was no answer he wasn’t alarmed,
he wouldn’t allow himself to be. One-sided contact by him didn’t always work
when she wasn’t expecting him. She had to be touching her knife or thinking
about him and there were a thousand other things she should be thinking about
right now. Sighing, Kane told himself to be patient, Brenna would contact him.
Meanwhile he would have Marcus send a note to Duke Ewart in Silverdale. The
troops should be ready to move.

The cold wind whipped her hair
about her face as Brenna stood on deck. It was a crisp day and the sun glinted
off the ice that had formed on the bowsprit in front of her. For the first time
this trip she felt the chill of winter and she reveled in it, her blood still
singing with the power of the storm. The feeling was fading, as was the energy.
When Pater had asked how she was she’d calmly told him that she would be back
to normal in a few hours. But she felt far from calm with the wild power of the
storm still coursing through her.