Chapter XI - Gywain

TWO YEARS, ONE MONTH

Four months passed, bringing warmer winds and hailing the return of new life to the forest. During those months the trees had turned green once more; ferns, plants, and creeping undergrowth erupted out of the rich dirt all at once in the early spring, making their presence known. Now the damp, sweet-smelling spring days had passed, and early summer had swept in to reign over the land for its few appointed months. The mud from the torrential spring rains had dried to dust, and the heavy, blanketing warmth from the early summer sun had a way of inducing lethargy.

Tancred sat on his golden bay stallion, Chale, and surveyed the camp with satisfaction. Another turn of the seasons weathered successfully, he thought. His expression turned a little grim. I would that I did not have to leave it. Not now. Not so soon after my last assignment.

Chale pranced and Tancred reached down to pat his neck. “Easy, boy,” he murmured. Egan twitched a little in his position on the young man’s shoulders, hissing at the movement of the stallion. The pseudo-dragon and Tancred were waiting for Jaedon, whom they expected to join them shortly.

Tancred had already informed his mother that he would be leaving and spoken with Warrick, one of his most trusted men. Both Shyla and Warrick were quite capable of keeping the camp running and executing missions while he was gone, and if Kristalyn returned while he was absent it would go even smoother. Egan had been to Kris and back several times over the last few months and Tancred had been pleased to discover his sister planned to return from her current undercover mission in the near future. Despite the capability he knew that Kris, Shyla, and Warrick all possessed, he wished that the responsibility did not rest in their hands.

He disliked leaving his men; he preferred leading them on missions and into skirmishes all the time. As of late, however, that had grown very difficult. King Trystellan Jaeger, ruler of Aerilya, was summoning him increasingly more often to send him on spying missions deep into Elangsia. While Tancred understood the need for good spies and he was pleased to serve his country, he did not like the fact that these missions were taking him away from his men, who were his first responsibility. He had hoped that his trip to Ruma—when he had picked up Zoe—would be his last for a very long time. Unfortunately, one of Tancred’s men who was stationed in Bryndor, Aerilya’s capital, had arrived just yesterday and informed him that the king was asking for him again. Tancred knew that the king only sent for the Hunter when he wanted to send him on another mission.

Tancred respected King Trystellan and even went so far as to approve of the way the man was conducting his country in times of war. However, he wished the king would realize that the Hunter’s original purpose was not spying on the enemy. The Hunter was there to protect innocent slaves, attack enemy battalions who ventured too close to the Aerilya border, and fight creatively against Elangsia. Sending him into deep enemy territory twice in less than a year was not something Tancred appreciated coming from the king of Aerilya.

He saw Jaedon begin trotting his horse in Tancred’s direction but the older man stopped once again. Tancred’s expression turned thoughtful as he watched Jaedon bid Zoe farewell. The last couple of months had been strange with the young woman in the camp. She seemed determined not to like him. He understood she still was mistrustful of him but had hoped she would grow weary of the constant wall in-between them. Wishful thinking, he thought with a bit of wry amusement.

She had turned to watch Jaedon ride off and her green eyes met his, flashing brightly even across the distance. He lifted his hand and nodded his head in deference to her, but she turned as if she had not seen him and strode away. He shook his head. Whatever else Zoe might be, she was definitely headstrong.

Egan seemed to sense Tancred’s feelings and lifted his head, peering in Zoe’s direction with eyes narrowed to golden slits. The creature sniffed a little and Tancred smiled. He knew that Egan didn’t like Zoe—that was clear from the small dragon’s persistence in ignoring her when around and always viewing her with distrust. Tancred suspected Egan was jealous of the attention that Zoe garnered from the men. She was a well-liked member of the camp by now, despite her close-lipped approach to relationships, and Egan did not relish losing his previous admirers.

Jaedon’s dun horse clambered up the slight incline and stopped beside Tancred, Egan, and Chale. “Said your farewells?” asked Tancred with raised brows.

Jaedon nodded. “She will be fine without us here,” he commented.

“I never worried about her survival,” Tancred replied as they both turned their horses southeast and trotted out. “She seems to be able to handle herself. She reminds me a little of Kris, actually.”

Egan snorted with obvious derision.

“Hmm,” Jaedon murmured enigmatically, ignoring Egan’s disapproving reaction.

Tancred waited for Jaedon to explain his thoughts but the man did not speak. “What are you thinking of?” Tancred questioned, glancing over at the other man. Egan also appeared to be listening for Jaedon’s answer.

“The reason King Trystellan summoned you” was his only response.

Tancred firmed his chin and faced forward again. “I’m sure it’s another mission,” he stated.

“Yes, but a mission of what kind? You were in Ruma but four months ago, give or take a few days. Where else does he wish to send you? What could have developed over those months that we haven’t already heard of?”

Tancred shook his head. “I don’t know, but I wish I did not always have to be the one investigating it.”

Jaedon looked at him furtively. “You don’t have to be the only spy sent there, Tancred,” he pointed out. “Your mother and Kristalyn are both willing to go—”

“No,” Tancred interrupted firmly. “They will not go there.” He would not risk his only remaining family members, Shyla and Kris, to the most dangerous of all spy missions. He looked over at Jaedon and continued calmly, “They, along with my loyalty to my king and my country, are the ones who keep me going on these missions and donning the personage of Cormac Alstair. It is the only way I can protect them from the greatest danger.”

“I know,” Jaedon said, his expression inscrutable. Tancred wondered what thoughts were going through the man’s head. He knew that he and Jaedon both shared feelings of guilt over Liam Ralyn’s death. Liam had been Shyla’s husband and Tancred’s father. He had been spying in Ruma for King Trystellan when Captain Alquin Ricald had discovered he was a spy. The captain had announced that fact, calling for Liam’s execution. King Brastus had acquiesced. The only “good” that had come from the situation was that Liam had never actually disclosed to the Elangsians that he was the legendary Hunter. King Brastus still did not realize that he had in fact killed his archrival.

In retaliation, Tancred had taken up his father’s name and mission. He had longed to make the king of Elangsia fear the name of the Hunter. He felt reasonably sure he had done so. Still, thoughts of his father’s death returned to haunt him at times.

Jaedon had not been with Liam on the mission to Ruma that had resulted in Liam’s death. Jaedon had stayed behind to help with Tancred run the missions back in Mairbrac, allowing Liam to go with another of the Hunter’s men—Crosten of Mairbrac. Perhaps if Jaedon or I had been there, Father wouldn’t have died, Tancred thought bitterly.

“I have told you time and again, Tancred,” Jaedon said evenly, keeping his eyes on the rough trail they were following, “you did nothing that quickened your father’s death. He lived life dangerously and knew that fact. He embraced it.”

Tancred was surprised at how accurately Jaedon had read his thoughts. Egan purred softly, adding to the older man’s words. The pseudo-dragon’s scales had darkened to a muted red by way of his chameleon-like abilities, and he rubbed his lithe neck against Tancred’s ear gently.

Tancred frowned. “I know, Jaedon.” I know, but I still wish…

He shook his head and Egan curled tighter around his shoulders, flicking his tail a little. It was too late to bring the original Hunter back, but he could still protect his sister and mother as much as possible. So, it’s off to Bryndor and the court of King Trystellan, he thought with a trace of weariness. Again. Perhaps this will be the last time.

He tried to ignore the fact that he always seemed to start his trips to Bryndor with a similar thought.

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Bryndor was best described as sprawling. The large capital covered a large amount of land and there was no wall around its outer skirts as in many other cities. The Cirthian Mountains were positioned far behind it, in the east, and they glowed purple and white as they rose to their majestic heights.

The houses in the Aerilyan capital were fashioned out of sturdy wood with carvings on the corner beams and had thatched roofs. The whole city was brimming with activity: peasants selling wheels of cheese or clay pots and trinkets; nobles riding through on important business, their horses tall and proud; women gossiping at one of the large central wells where they drew up their water. Most the people, even the poor, possessed a good disposition and nearly all smiled up at Tancred, Jaedon, and Egan as the threesome rode past.

The Aerilyan palace, Trildur, was a large white castle. Tancred eyed it as he wove through Bryndor. It was difficult not to look at it, for it was built both with high walls and upon a slight hill, so that it was elevated above the houses on the east side of the city. The crimson and white banners of Aerilya flew proudly from its turrets.

It was the evening of the fourth day since Tancred and Jaedon had begun traveling to Bryndor, and they were both longing for a good bed and hot food. Tancred straightened his shoulders and stretched in the saddle a little, causing Egan to shift and release a hiss-sigh.

They eventually finished passing through the main thoroughfare and emerged on the eastern end of the city. Trildur gleamed in the light of the setting sun like a luminous pearl, casting dusky shadows behind it. They rode to the front gate and Tancred pounded his fist against the thick wood. Chale snorted and shifted his hooves and Egan lifted his head with a small click of annoyance, but both creatures remained in place.

A small door slid open and a man’s face peered out of the gate. “Who are you and what is your business at Trildur?” he questioned gruffly, but not unkindly.

“I am the Hunter of Mairbrac. ” Tancred stated. “My companion and I are here by command of King Trystellan Jaeger, lord of Aerilya. It is an affair of importance concerning the state of the war.”

“One moment,” the man said, and disappeared, closing the face slot. A few moments later there were the sounds of the gate being unlocked and the wooden door swung open. Two metal portcullises opened just past the wooden gate, and Tancred and Jaedon waited for all three to cease moving before heeling their horses into Trildur. The gatekeeper nodded at them respectfully as they passed.

Two men ran out to grab the reins of Chale and Jaedon’s horse. Tancred and Jaedon dismounted and Tancred gave instructions to the stable boy who held Chale steady. “Make sure these horses get an extra portion of oats tonight. They deserve it.”

“Aye, lord,” the boy murmured, his eyes flicking curiously to Egan and than back to Tancred.

Tancred smiled at him before turning away. Egan felt the attention of the boy and offered a dragonish smile to him as they passed, his wings quivering self-importantly.

“Your arrogance will be the death of you one day, Egan,” Tancred murmured to the pseudo-dragon. Egan hissed back, obviously offended, and fell to disgruntled silence. Tancred looked ahead and saw a priest striding toward him, his brown robes swinging and eyes twinkling. A small entourage of servants trailed the priest. They stopped in front of Tancred and the priest stepped forward.

“Hunter Tancred Ralyn,” he said in a cultured voice tinged with amusement, placing his hand over his heart for a moment in a welcoming gesture, “and Jaedon of Mairbrac. It is a pleasure to see you both here at Trildur. The servants have prepared a place for you to stay while you remain.”

“Many thanks, Father Gywain,” Tancred said. He and Jaedon returned the gesture, dipping their heads slightly as they briefly touched their hands to their chests. Egan purred quietly. “It has been long since we have last conversed.”

“Too long,” Jaedon added.

“Indeed,” Gywain acknowledged. “I hope we will have opportunity for discourse amongst your meetings with King Trystellan.”

“Yes,” Tancred nodded, his tone sobering at the mention of the coming conferences.

“But, come,” Gywain said. “I will weary you before we have even begun to talk in earnest. Aldric has informed me that your rooms are ready; perhaps you would like to freshen up a little.”

Tancred grinned again, a trace of impishness entering his gaze; the first bit of boyishness for a long time. “Do we smell so repulsive you suggest a bath so soon after our arrival?”

Gywain’s brows twitched and his eyes seemed to dance all the more merrily. “Perhaps I ought to answer that question at a different time. Follow Aldric. I will give you time to clean yourselves up and then I shall come to talk. The king does not expect you until after the evening meal.”

Tancred nodded sharply at Gywain and he and Jaedon followed Aldric, a tall balding servant, to the right. They passed through a large door with elaborately carved unicorns gracing its panels into the living quarters of the palace-castle. The halls of the place were tastefully furnished and well lit by many iron-wrought lamps that hung from the ceiling. Aldric stopped at a wooden door and opened it with a flourish. “Your quarters, Lord Hunter.”

Tancred entered the room, noting the lavish decorations, large bed, and open balcony with a faint smile. King Trystellan wants me to be happy while I’m here, he thought. He turned to Aldric. “Thank you.”

“I will bring Jaedon of Mairbrac to his quarters at once, if you are fully satisfied with your own room,” Aldric said formally.

“I am satisfied. I will see you when Father Gywain returns, Jaedon.”

Jaedon disappeared with Aldric and Tancred looked around again. Egan purred and clicked to Tancred. “Yes, it is a fine room,” Tancred responded. “I have no doubt the king realizes how much he has been asking of me and the men. This is one of his ways of attempting to make it up to us.”

Egan scampered down Tancred’s arm and, spreading his wings, flew to the huge comfortable looking bed. The pseudo-dragon sighed contentedly and curled into a little ball.

“I’m going to go clean up a bit, Egan,” Tancred said, turning toward the washbasin that stood beside the door. A bucket of steaming water had recently been placed beside it in anticipation of his arrival, and he dumped a portion of it into the basin and lathered some of the soap in his hands. The sliver of soap was a precious commodity and he relished the smooth sensation of it as he cleaned away some of the grime he had accrued while traveling. He glanced back over to the bed where Egan lay and noticed a fresh set of clothing was already waiting for him. Pulling off his travel-worn shirt and trousers, he traded them for the clean garments.

Ten minutes later he was fully clean and clad in attire that befitted a nobleman of Aerilya. He ran a hand through his damp hair, pushing it away from his forehead, and replaced his two ever-present knives: one in his boot and the other tucked away at his belt. He has left his wrist sheath back at his camp in Mairbrac. He doubted he would need the weapons he had with him anyway, but it was always better to be prepared than wind up with a sword through his gut on account of foolish carelessness.

A knock sounded and Tancred strode toward it, opening it swiftly. Father Gywain eyed him up and down and nodded. “A much pleasanter appearance you present now, I must say.”

Tancred smiled ruefully. “Thank you…I think. Please, come in.”

Gywain entered the room and Tancred closed the door. The two of them walked slowly across the length of the chamber, meandering toward the balcony in silence. They exited and stopped at the balcony railing, the balmy summer breeze was ruffling their hair and tugging at their tunics. Tancred turned toward Gywain, leaning his hip against the railing, and waited.

Gywain finally turned toward him, his brown eyes quiet. “You are going to be sent on another mission, Tancred.” His voice was low and lacked the merriment that usually tinged his speech.

“I thought as much. Whenever Trystellan sends for me, he wants me to go spy in Elangsia.”

“Yes. I do not know very much about his purpose in sending you, but it does involve Ruma.”

Tancred sighed heavily. Ruma again. He crossed his arms across his chest and looked out over the city. The sun was almost completely set by now, and torches were lit throughout the capital, lighting the entryway to many homes in the place. Bryndor had not changed very much since the Ralyn family had lived in the area.

He shifted his glance to the north, where the land grew hillier and trees grew in verdant clumps. It was northward that he had grown up, a mere days ride from Bryndor. The Ralyn estate had been a good home. He and Kristalyn had been happy living there. But when he had been close to twelve, the war had begun, and their father had become the Hunter, setting up his base of operations in Mairbrac Forest. Shyla, who refused to be parted from her husband by remaining at their home, came with him, bringing their two children as well. The estate still stood there, to the best of his knowledge, but untended and fallen in disrepair. The servants who once looked after the property had been released from their duties and quickly dispersed to find work or begin a new life elsewhere.

Shaking himself free from his thoughts, he looked back at Gywain. “So, he wants me to go back,” he murmured, speaking of the pending mission from King Trystellan. “I was there four months ago. What can he have discovered that would require me to return?”

Gywain shook his head. “That I do not know.” He looked at Tancred with raised eyebrows. “Tell me about your last mission.”

Tancred hesitated. How can I possibly sum up my last mission? Usually he was able to state in two or three sentences the purpose and result of his spying experiences. The last one had been unusual and the reason stemmed from one person: Zoe. “It was very…different,” he finally said.

“How so?”

“Trystellan sent me there for a three month spell to observe the social, economic, and military status of the Elangsians. Jaedon came with me, as he always does,” Tancred began quietly. “About two weeks after our arrival, we were passing through the slave market. A slaver had just slapped one of the young women across the face. She knocked him to the ground.”

“She knocked him down?” Gywain looked surprised.

Tancred smiled faintly. “If you knew her, you wouldn’t be surprised by that.”

“So, what did you do?”

“I bought her.”

“Why?”

Why indeed? Why did you stop and buy her, Tancred? He knew that there was something that had drawn him to Zoe: perhaps her fiery personality. Perhaps the mystery that shrouded her past. Perhaps the tenacity with which she clung to her convictions, despite the heavy odds against her. Perhaps it was all those things. Tancred was not sure if he could put it into words or not. He did not think he should even try. “I do not know, exactly,” he replied at length.

“Hmm,” Gywain murmured, his voice serious. “Is she very beautiful, Tancred?”

Tancred looked keenly at the priest. “No, not exceptionally,” he replied thoughtfully. “But she is strong, and resolute. Do not fear that I am going to fall in love with her, Father Gywain,” he said, stating what he knew Gywain was thinking. “She needs love in her life…but not of an earthly sort, I think.”

“Deus,” Gywain nodded with understanding. “Yes. He is willing to drench everyone with his love but they need ask for it at some point, too.”

“I think she has not yet asked. She is too stubborn.”

“Sounds like another person I know,” Gywain replied, casting a sidelong glance.

Tancred did not reply.

“You love Deus, that I know,” Gywain said musingly. “But there is a stronghold of bitter hate that you have left to fester in the depth of your soul.”

Tancred hid his wince. Besides his father, Gywain was the only man who could point out Tancred’s shortcomings so swiftly and accurately. Over the last five and a half years since his father had died, Tancred had grown used to evading the scrutiny of a mature spiritual man. Jaedon was a believer in Deus, but he was more apt to direct Tancred’s military life than his spiritual one.

“King Brastus and Captain Ricald are both men in dire need of forgiveness from you. Or, rather, you are in dire need of the cleansing that will come only when you forgive them.”

They do not deserve my forgiveness.

“You did not deserve Christus’s gift of acceptance and forgiveness when He purchased your soul with His blood, either.”

Tancred looked sharply at Gywain, who looked solemnly back. How does he read me so well? wondered Tancred. He was used to being enigmatic to most; not many could see through his closed features.

“Think about these things, Tancred,” Gywain urged quietly. “They are vital truths.”

Tancred nodded slowly and opened his mouth to reply. However, at that moment a knock sounded at the door and a maid opened it, her eyes downcast. Jaedon trailed her.

“M’lord Hunter, Father Gywain,” the girl murmured prettily, flicking her waist-length braid over one shoulder. “King Trystellan Jaeger requests your presences in the dining hall, and afterwards in his private chambers.”

“I’m sorry I couldn’t come to talk with you sooner,” Jaedon added, passing the maid and entered the room. Tancred and Gywain walked toward him. “I was busy down at the stables. I made sure our horses were properly stabled.”

Tancred nodded at him in thanks and looked at the maid. “We will follow you to the dining hall,” he told her.

She smiled and said shyly, “This way, m’lord.”