Aegis

Aegis Stone

Chapter 1 - Beacon

505 years after the founding of Breyconland

Sheralie stared out over the valley, mesmerized by the sea of soft glowing lights.

“I thought Jafra was a military camp.” She blinked and focused again. The lights had to be lambent globes shining through windows or maybe even streetlamps. Hundreds of them!

Beside her, Mel laughed.

“It was little more than a camp when Queen Daria established it twenty years ago. The description stuck even when Jafra outgrew it.”

“This is a city!” Sheralie still couldn’t quite believe it. She’d never seen Bridgewich from such a height, but she wondered if even her busy hometown looked this large at night.

“It is the third largest city in the northern province,” Mel said, a hint of pride in her voice. “When the Queen’s Highway to the north seacoast is finished, Jafra will probably grow even larger.”

“You seem like you know it well,” Sheralie observed, which was surprising. Mel, Lady Melania Black, was the Queen’s Inquisitor, the highest magickal enforcer in the whole country. Surely she spent most of her days in Stramere, the capital.

“I spent a great deal of time here while I was growing up,” Mel explained. “Queen Aston sent me here for half the year starting the year I turned ten.”

“Ten!” Was that when Mel was tested? Did the queen learn she was a Gifted Seeker and take her from her family? It seemed like something their heartless queen would do. Rip a child from her family, willing or not. Certainly Sheralie’s father had worried that it would happen to her if she was tested as a child. “Did you miss your family?” She hoped the question sounded casual, but she turned fully, trying to get a read on her friendly captor. Maybe, if she held some well-hidden resentment toward the queen, she would hesitate to turn Sheralie over to Queen Aston.

No matter how friendly Mel was, Queen Aston was not likely to see Sheralie as some kind of future salvation for Breyconland. Not after she’d declared Sheralie the most wanted fugitive in the whole country and put a ten-thousand-crown bounty on her head.

Mel was silent for a long moment, probably reliving the horrible scene where she was severed from her family. “I did get homesick,” she said at last. However, she did not elaborate, and Sheralie’s instincts warned her not to press. Not yet, anyway.

“Come,” Mel said, breaking the moment. “We had better get settled in for the night. We have another long ride ahead of us tomorrow. Jafra appears closer than it is with all those lights. Besides, your familiar will wake up soon, and I don’t want to listen to her panic if she can’t find you.” Mel chuckled.

Sheralie cringed as she turned to follow Mel back along the narrow trail. One of Mel’s Gifted squad members had the ability to send her cat Ginny to sleep. Jewel kept Ginny unconscious during the entire day of travel and then woke her up at night. After the first day when Jewel woke Ginny up, Sheralie had been slightly hidden in the bushes to take care of personal needs. Ginny’s resulting yowling had set the entire squad on edge for the rest of the evening.

When they reached the small clearing where Mel’s squad was setting up camp, Jewel was waiting with Ginny in her arms. “Now?” she called to Mel.

“Go ahead.” Mel joined Captain Salas and the two moved away from the group. Sheralie watched them head into the trees and then turned back to Jewel.

Jewel closed her eyes for a moment and then Ginny’s head popped straight up.

Spark! she shouted mentally. Sheralie winced.

“I’m right here,” she said, walking to Jewel and taking the cat from her. Ginny dug her head into Sheralie’s arm.

Are you alright?

“Yes, just tired.”

I’m tired of sleeping, Ginny grumbled.

“I’m sure you are,” Sheralie agreed. She gently put the cat on the ground. “Go explore for a while. Might as well stretch your legs.”

Ginny extended her front legs forward while her back arched in a graceful curve. I will be back. Don’t eat without me.

“Go catch your own dinner!” Sheralie laughed. “You don’t want hardtack anyway.”

Nasty human food, Ginny concurred. I’ll return soon. Don’t let that Mel lady boss you around.

Sheralie watched her cat slink away from the camp into the trees with fondness. What would she do without Ginny? It was a lifesaver to have one being she could unreservedly trust. Ginny had chosen to be Sheralie’s familiar less than a year ago, but it already felt like Sheralie had known her for ages.
She wasn’t sure she trusted anyone else in this camp full of strangers. Mel’s squad consisted of three other enchanters and the four men who were assigned as their partners. It was an unusual grouping. Sheralie had never considered soldiers and enchanters working together like this, but it appeared to be very effective. She still couldn’t tell most of the men apart—they all looked the same with their grim faces and short hair. However, she’d been curious enough about the other enchanters to talk to each of them. They were all Gifted like Sheralie, almost certainly taken from their families under the ruse that they tested as Talents strong enough to enter the Queen’s Academy. Jewel had an affinity for biologic magick, like Sheralie. She was a powerful healer, or so Mel said, and she also had the ability to put any living mammal to sleep (not only cats). Ivy was strongest in elemental magick. She loved working with fire—her favorite part of the night was to start the campfire. Belinda (usually called Bee) didn’t have an affinity, or so she said. But she was talented at setting wards. She was probably off with her partner setting the ward around the camp, as Sheralie didn’t see her anywhere. Even with half the squad gone, the camp was a hive of activity. Jewel moved on to caring for the horses, with the help of her partner. Ivy’s partner was sorting through packs as he chewed absently on a leafy stalk of some kind. Ivy was carefully arranging a pile of sticks before she lit her nightly campfire.

Everyone had a job to do but Sheralie.

Her glance caught on Emilio. Well, Emilio didn’t have a job to do either. She pursed her lips at the sight of him. Someone had spread out his bedroll and he was already stretched out on it, the chain around his ankle staked into the ground next to him. He stared up at the sky, his hands clasped behind his head.

Mel treated Sheralie with the confidence of a trusted friend and ally, and her squad more or less followed that lead, treating Sheralie with wary respect and a great deal of freedom. However, that trust did not extend to Emilio. He was always bound in some way, and one of the squad members kept watch over him all night.

Mel somehow knew that Sheralie would not leave him. Maybe she thought Sheralie was in love with Emilio. Maybe she thought they were related. Sheralie didn’t know, but somehow Mel had guessed enough about their relationship to allow Emilio to escape from prison. Just as the inquisitor hoped, Emilio led her straight to where Sheralie was hiding from the queen.

However, Mel had no idea what truly bound them. It would be easier if Emilio was a childhood sweetheart or a stepbrother.

Sheralie heaved a great sigh and walked to Emilio’s bedroll, dropping without grace to the ground next to him. He was only a short distance from the fire Ivy was coaxing to life; at least their captors were not cruel. The nights were already growing cold, and it was not quite autumn yet.

Emilio rolled to his side, his expression eerily solemn in the flickering light of the campfire.
“Forgive me yet?” he asked.

Sheralie tried to muster a smile but couldn’t. No trite words came to mind either. Emilio waited, studying her with knowing eyes. Finally, he sighed. “It’s all right, Sheralie. I understand.” He rolled back to face the sky. “If it weren't for me, you wouldn’t be in this mess.”

“Don’t blame yourself for this.” She waved her arm at the camp.

“Of course I blame myself! I led the Queen’s Guard straight to you!” Emilio’s voice was sharp with self-loathing. Ivy looked up from gently positioning logs on the fire but then went back to her chore, though she was probably listening to every word. Sheralie chose her reply with care.

“It doesn’t matter, Emilio. If you’d never returned to Raoulin to find me, you never would have found my father. I never would have learned the truth about my grandfather.”

She swallowed thickly, willing the tears not to come. Prince Maxent was not a doting grandfather eager to build a relationship with the only child of his beloved daughter. He was not a kindly old man who was exiled unfairly by his insane sister Queen Daria. He was the Cynewulf. The leader of the murderous Silver Wolves. A ruthless man who had kept her father imprisoned for two years.

She’d trusted him, given him the greatest gift she could. She had given her own magick and strength, suffering through a great deal of pain and two days in a coma in order to power the vitality apparatus, returning him to health and even reversing the effects of age.

He’d used her.

Worse, Jaron had helped him.

She cut the thought off immediately. She didn’t want to think about Jaron.

“You say it doesn’t matter, but you’re still angry with me, aren’t you?” Emilio shifted, reaching down to rub at his manacled ankle.

“Why is that even a question? You activated the oath, Emilio. After promising you never would again!” Her voice rose so high that Ivy stopped poking at the fire and stared at her.

Emilio gave her the tiniest shake of his head, and she huffed in frustration. Of course he was right. She should not discuss the blood oath that bound her to help Emilio whenever he asked, not in front of anyone, let alone a member of the Queen’s Guard. The last thing she needed was to give the queen a way to control her.

In any case, angry as she was at Emilio, she didn’t wish manipulation or torture on him. Bad enough that he spent weeks languishing in prison because he was caught by the Queen’s Guard after trying to help Sheralie heal her friend with the vitality apparatus. She didn’t need to add to his suffering, no matter her resentment about the oath.

Besides, Madam Calarook was ultimately responsible for the oath. If Sheralie wanted to be angry she should direct it at the matriarch of the troubadours. She was the one who set up the whole infuriating trap and shoved Emilio and Sheralie headfirst into it. Someday Sheralie was going to confront the old matriarch of the troubadours about it. She hoped. If she ever got out of the clutches of the queen.

She glanced at Ivy, who was finished with the fire and had moved to help her partner sort through the baggage. “When do we cross into Breyconland?” she asked Emilio in a low voice.

“If we keep to the same kind of pace as the last couple of days, we should reach the blood boundary about midday.”

“Hmm.” Sheralie absently played with the end of her braid. Mel’s squad allowed her complete freedom of movement. She would be on a horse, not bound in any way. As soon as Emilio crossed into Breyconland, she would be free of the oath again. Well, as long as Emilio didn’t immediately ask her to help him with something else.

Emilio stared at her. “You can’t be serious.”

“What?” She kept her tone innocent.

“They will stop you.”

She smothered a groan. Sometimes it was irritating how well Emilio could read her. Perhaps she shouldn’t have written him so many letters her first year at school. It was almost like he knew exactly what she was thinking.

“You can’t go back, Sheralie.” He raised himself up on an elbow. “The Cynewulf will never let you out of his grasp again.”

Sheralie didn’t bother to respond to that. Emilio knew what was at stake.

“Your father trusted me to keep you safe. I can’t let you do it.”

“It’s safer for me to ride right into the arms of Queen Aston?” she muttered.

Emilio had no response to that; what could he say? He knew it was true. Sheralie was caught between two opposing powers, both hoping to either use her or destroy her. There was no safety anywhere. And with a dragon invasion on the horizon…

“At least there are no dragons in Breyconland,” Emilio finally reminded, proving once again that he could practically read her thoughts.

She did not want to face a dragon again. Like most Breyconlanders, she had believed all her life that dragons were nothing more than creatures of legend. Sheralie shuddered. Dragons were terrifyingly real. If her mother’s prophetic vision was correct, Breyconland would learn in the most horrifying of ways that they were not mythical.

No. She refused to accept it. The vision could be wrong. She would force it to change somehow. That started with making sure she never went anywhere near Clyris Cave. She had to part ways with Mel, and tomorrow morning would be her last opportunity to do so before they reached Jafra.

Ivy appeared next to them, handing out the evening’s rations, and Sheralie welcomed the end to Emilio’s irritating mind-reading. She nibbled on her hardtack, saving the jerky for Ginny, and made her plans to escape. Perhaps she could persuade Jewel to let her carry Ginny for once. Or maybe she would ask Ginny to stay away from the camp in the morning and then sneak her into the carrying pouch. Sheralie would have to leave Emilio behind, and she was sorry about that, but she saw no other way. He was always guarded. Perhaps the squad would be so busy chasing her that Emilio would find his own chance to escape.

Tomorrow she would fulfill the latest condition of her oath by helping Emilio return to Breyconland, and then she would be free to escape and return to the one person who mattered most in the world.

She had to return to Raoulin and free her father from prison.

No matter what it cost.