Shaking her head, Emlyn says softly, “No, not from among my people. All our bards, the keepers of our law and lore, are all dead. They were some of the first to die during the war, hunted out of existence. I don’t know if someone, somewhere else, might know more. At least we know now what we’re looking for.”
Sighing heavily, Emlyn turns to Atres. “I think I begin to understand your gift,” Emlyn says, “having gotten a chance to observe it in action. Let me explain to you what my curse is. I find a way to win, no matter how dire the circumstances may be. I do not know why the gods have cursed me with this, but it is true. We have some time yet before we must face this thing. I will find the path to victory.”
Curious, Argonath looks at her, “Why would you call that a curse?”
“You have no idea,” Emlyn growls, “what a price I have paid, what price I still pay, for some of those victories. When the gods give much, they ask for far more than they have given.”
“Oh, lass,” Atres stands and pulls her in a hug, murmuring into her hair. Finally, she relents a bit, and Atres coaxes her into relaxing. “Whatever happens,” Atres says, smiling at her, “we’ll get through this. I still have one thousand and eighty-three days to wait for you, and I plan to be right beside you for every last one of them and every last one we have together after that.”
“Now that she’s King’s Guard,” Atres asks Argonath, “Can I take her to the armory to poke around? Maybe something there…”
“Don’t take anything out,” Argonath says, “without checking with me first, but if you want to prowl around looking at things, I don’t see the harm in it.”
Argonath reaches into his desk, pulls out a ring of keys, and hands them to Atres. “You can give these back to me when you’re done. Keep them for a while if you think you need them.” Dragging out another pad, Argonath starts scribbling out orders. “I’m directing our archivists,” Argonath says to Emlyn, “to hunt up everything about Fey. We might have something in our archives already.”
“That’s not a bad idea,” Emlyn nods, “I’ll have the Temple archivists do the same.”
Emlyn grins at Atres, “It looks like we’ll be spending some late nights reading a lot of dry, dusty old records.”
“Hmm…” Atres purrs, “I can’t imagine anything I’d like better. Curled up with you, a glass of wine, and a dusty old book.”
“I think we’re done here,” Argonath sighs, “at least for today. We’ll reconvene tomorrow afternoon. That should give the archivists time to locate some preliminary documents and materials. Why don’t the three of you find some dinner? I only hope my dinner companion is still waiting.”
Growing serious, Emlyn turns to Argonath and bows formally, “My thanks for your time and assistance.”
Smirking, Argonath waves her off, “Thank me when all this is done and dusted.”
“My next question,” Atres grins, “is, do you want to go prowl through our armory or go have dinner? Or both? If the answer is both, in what order?”
“Let’s go have dinner,” Emlyn says slowly, “I think perhaps we should talk.”
“Then let’s go back to the inn and get you settled in,” Atres says, “and we can eat and talk.”
Bustling around in the kitchen, preparing dinner for his newest guests, Kethas hears the door open and looks up to see the trio returning. Wiping his hands, Kethas steps into the tap room and looks at Atres critically. “Better still?”
“A bit,” Atres nods.
“Tell me,” Kethas says, plunking down another pint of ale in front of Atres.
“She made Argonath agree to having the King’s Guard accompany her and her cohort on this,” Atres says, “and that helped a bit more.”
“Hmmm,” Kethas muses.
“Let’s start at the beginning,” Emlyn says, “When you promised someone that you’d just met that you’d wait for three years. Was that your… gift, talent, whatever in action?”
“Oh, lass,” Atres grins, giving her a look that makes her blush again, “It was screaming at me that you were important and that I needed you. I’ve never had a premonition that was that strong. I was just praying that you didn’t reject me.”
“How does this work?” Emlyn asks.
“It’s hard to explain,” Atres shrugs, “I just know things are important or need to be avoided. A lot of the time, I’m not sure until something shifts.”
“Like when I asked to double the weapons?” Emlyn asks, and Atres nods.
Laughing, Kethas sets down a pint in front of Emlyn, “Here, girl. You look like you could use one, yourself. I’m not Valkis, but I’ve seen their talent often enough, so maybe let me try to explain it. I think my point of view on the whole thing will make a lot more sense to you, being on the outside of it, rather than being on the inside, like Atres. If he tells you something is important, it is. If he tells you something is going to be bad, it will. If he says you need to do something, don’t waste time asking questions, do it. If he says don’t do something, doing it anyway is likely to get you killed, and if you don’t die from it, you’ll probably wish you had. When it’s something bad, a lot of the Valkis call it catching a premonition. Sometimes, there are things that you can do that reduce or eliminate the outcome that the premonition is predicting. They call that releasing a premonition. Some will release all at once while others need a whole series of things to release, a bit at a time.”
“That’s why you made me swear to come find you,” Emlyn muses, “That means Benger was right to say that we should come back early.”
Nodding, Kethas agrees with her, “Smart lad. Some of the stronger Valkis, like Atres here, can also get a sense of how much of the bad has been released and maybe even how likely you are to survive it.”
“And where are we at now?” Emlyn asks Atres.
“Oh, lass… When I left you at the fair,” Atres grimaces, “I was almost certain that would be the last time I’d ever see you alive.”
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Emlyn reaches over and lays a hand on his arm, squeezing it. Seeing her unbend enough to touch him on her own, Atres sighs and pulls her into another hug. “Gods above! I hated leaving you there, but I knew if I didn’t, you might not forgive me. I didn’t know what the right thing to do was. It took a lot for me not to toss you over my shoulder and haul you back to Harito with me.”
From somewhere against his chest, he hears, “I’m sorry. I didn’t know.”
Chuckling, Atres gives her a bit of an extra squeeze, “I know you didn’t, and that’s partly my fault for not explaining it sooner. I was racking my brain all the way to the inn trying to figure out what would release it. Then the messenger from your Goddess showed up and said that you’d meet me in Harito today, and that made it release just a hair, so I knew that whatever was most critical was here, somewhere. The weapons that your smiths are making made it release a tiny bit more. Then, when you doubled the order, it went from my being certain you would die to it being bad but probably survivable. Once you made Argonath agree to having the King’s Guard accompany your cohort, it went from probably survivable to definitely survivable if a bit banged up.”
Pushing her back a bit, he hooks a finger under her chin, “Do you know what the worst part has been?”
When Emlyn shakes her head, “This whole time my talent has been screaming at me that I have to protect you because I need you, and I haven’t been able to figure out how to do it. That’s been driving me to madness.”
“That’s why you had me send for your cousins,” Kethas nods, “You want to know if they can sense something you’re missing because your talent is too busy driving you into a protective frenzy.”
Atres nods, and Kethas sighs.
Turning to Emlyn Kethas gives her a hard stare, “Look here, girl. You’re going to have to start taking a bit more care of yourself. He’s bonding to you already. If anything should happen to you, it won’t be long before he’ll be so bonded to you that something like that might destroy his talent and maybe him with it. Madness and suicide are common, if tragic, outcomes for the bond broken. If you won’t have a care for yourself, then have one for him. You’re going to have to become a lot more wary and a lot cannier about how you approach things.”
“She does tend to charge in,” Benger says, “You rely too much on clever attacks, like you did with those bandits. You have the skill. Use it.”
“I’m still getting stronger,” Emlyn replies, “and until my strength is back, clever is most of what I have at my disposal.”
“How exactly did you end up in Harito?” Kethas asks.
“My Goddess brought me here,” Emlyn explains, “to her Temple.”
“I thought you said you’d only been consecrated for a tenday?” Kethas frowns, “Why would your Goddess care what happens to someone who isn’t sworn to her?”
“That was part of the deal we struck when I was dying and godless,” Emlyn says, “That I would swear the oaths to her.”
“And how did you end up, dying and godless, girl?” Kethas asks.
Atres sees her pale a bit, and her eyes get wide with fear, before Emlyn says softly, “I promised Master Ember that I wouldn’t say.”
“Hrmph,” Kethas says, turning to Benger, “Can you get Ember here? I think that’s a question that needs to be answered so we can see if it’s got anything to do with Atres’s premonitions.”
Benger glances at Emlyn, who nods, and Benger starts to mumble a prayer.
“Good,” Atres says, “I’ve got a bone or two to pick with Ember myself.”
Looking back at Emlyn, he asks quietly, “Is this why a wolf charging at you is nothing?”
Emlyn nods, and as Atres watches, a tear slides down her cheek.
“Oh, lass, come here,” Atres sighs and pulls her back into a hug where she can cry against his shirt. He rocks her and mumbles into her hair too softly for anyone but her to hear.
Some minutes later, the tavern door opens, and Ember calls out, “Kethas, you old dog, what have you done to my newest paladin?”
Without answering, Kethas gets up and flips the sign to “Closed” and locks the door.
“Less likely to be any interruptions,” Kethas says to no one in particular.
Ember heads into the taproom to see Emlyn’s face buried against the chest of a man he doesn’t recognize, wearing King’s Guard leathers, and becomes instantly wary. He sees Benger sitting calmly at a table, and Kethas heads back to the bar to pull a pint for Ember.
“Sit,” Kethas gestures to the table, “I think we need to talk, old friend.”
“Not about her,” Ember says flatly, “I’m sorry, but I can’t.”
Frowning, Kethas plunks down the pint and gives Ember a look, “Why not? How many times have we saved each other’s sorry hides? Hmm…” “
I promised the Goddess,” Ember shrugs, “She shouldn’t even be here, or within a hundred yards of either of you.”
“And yet,” Kethas gestures to Atres and frowns, “This is exactly where she needs to be if she’s to survive this thing with that damnable dragon. Ember, allow me to introduce you to Atres, formerly of Clan Valkis, now of the King’s Guard. He’s already started to bond with her, Ember.”
Ember mutters a curse and sits down hard, staring at the protective man consoling Emlyn.
“Goddess help us all,” Ember mutters and pushes the pint away.
“I think I need something a bit stronger,” Ember sighs, “and a few minutes to ask permission.”
Nodding, Kethas heads back to the bar and drags out a bottle and some glasses. Kethas looks at Benger, who nods, so Kethas pours a generous amount into the glass and pushes it to him before pouring for Ember, Emlyn, and himself.
Curious, Kethas wags the bottle at Atres, who shakes his head and replies, “No, it… muddles things and I’m muddled enough now.”
Ember watches as Atres picks up the glass and coaxes Emlyn into taking a few sips before returning to consoling her. Sighing heavily, Ember bows his head and begins to pray.
“Mighty Morrighu, Your daughter has acquired some… unusual companions who seek answers to questions that may be best unasked,” Ember begins.
“Is this about Atres of Clan Valkis?”
“Not exactly of Valkis,” Ember grimaces, “Though that is his bloodline. He’s part of the King’s Guard stationed here in Harito. And my old friend, Kethas.”
“Also formerly of the King’s Guard, if I recall correctly, yes?”
Sensing Ember’s agreement, the Goddess continues, “Do you trust the two of them to shield her from their archives and their fellows as we have shielded her?”
“Kethas, yes. I do not know Atres.”
“Atres already shields her in this fashion and has more need to know her past than most, since he’s bonding with my daughter. She and I have already discussed him at length.”
Laughing at Ember’s surprise, the Goddess adds, “Why are you so surprised to learn that a man finds my daughter desirable or that a healthy, young woman might find such a man desirable? If you wish to tell them or allow her to do so, let it be done with my blessing.”
Raising his head, Ember looks at Kethas and Atres, “If you will promise that none of this ends up in your archives and you don’t breathe a word of it to anyone other than our girl here, myself, Gethin, Yanthus, Shu-Jin, Parth, Amon, Branaulf or Wex, I’ll let her tell you the whole of it.”
Kethas gives Ember an odd look but agrees. “By the great beast, I swear it.”
Ember gives Benger a look, and Benger sighs, “As a paladin of Morrighu, I swear it.”
Ember looks at Atres, who shrugs, smirking, “By my sword and life, I swear it.”
At Kethas’s look, Atres shrugs again, “She’s already had my oath on the matter.”
Kethas palms his face and shakes his head.
“The Goddess mentioned that she and Nia had spoken about you,” Ember nods, “at some length, so I’m not entirely surprised by that.”
“Hmm,” Atres purrs, “I’ll have to ask how that conversation went later.”
Atres pushes her back a bit, pulls out a handkerchief, and wipes her face.
“Gods!” he grimaces, “If you don’t stop crying, I may be compelled to kiss you until you do.”
Emlyn blushes hotly and ducks her head as he chuckles.
“No one here will hurt you,” Atres says gently, “and I think we need to know what happened.”
Nodding and steeling herself, Emlyn turns to face them. She bows her head for a moment and sighs heavily.
“This isn’t a pretty story with rainbows and unicorns. There is no happy ending. The only good thing I can say about any of it is, somehow, I’ve managed to survive it. It’s long and it’s… ugly. Much of what I have to say will defy belief, but I swear that it’s true. I know that Ember didn’t believe it when I told him until he confirmed the truth of it with our Goddess. Gethin, who was the first to recognize me since he knew my grandfather, didn’t believe me at first either. I have lived it, and looking back, it still defies belief, so I cannot fault anyone else. If you’ll let me get through all of it, I’ll try to answer your questions at the end.”
“It’s alright, lass,” Atres says as he wraps himself around her loosely in a protective cocoon, “I promised you I’d listen.”
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