Fire And Ice (Book 1) (28 page)

              “Show him in,” Stemis ordered.

             
“Sir, he is armed,” the guard reported. 

             
“Thank you.  Send him in.”

             
The young Karand who entered had dark curly hair and slightly dark skin.  He wore modest, light brown robes of Karandi origin.  He carried something wrapped up in a blanket in both of his hands. 

             
He bowed awkwardly to Stemis and then spoke to Oran.  “You are Lord Oran?”  The lord of Tyelin nodded.  “My mother sent me to tell you what has happened.”

             
Katelyn felt her stomach tighten.  Surely a boy with such an innocent face could not be the bearer of bad news.

             
Oran peered at the young man named for him.  “You look like your mother.”

             
“Everyone says so,” the young Karand agreed looking about nervously.

             
“Is she well?” Oran spoke casually as if he was making conversation.  Katelyn wanted to jump up and shout but knew the Lord of Tyelin was trying to put the young Karand at ease.

             
“Tell me what has happened,” Oran said sounding resigned to hear it no matter how difficult it might be.

             
“My mother found out that someone had gone to Shevren and told him that a Midian wearing a black handled sword was seen approaching my father’s office.  We do not know what happened exactly, but we found thirteen bodies where our stable used to be.”

             
“Bodies?” Stemis asked in alarm, “whose bodies?”

             
“What do you mean by used to be?” Oran asked at the same time.              

             
The young Karand looked from one to the other nervously before continuing.  “The stables burned down and the bodies were burnt as well.  Most of them were.  One was Shevren, and some of the others were men who worked for him.  There were five we could not identify.”  His expression became sad and he looked at the floor.  “One could be my father, but they are burned too badly to tell for sure.”

             
Oran sighed.  “I am sorry if you lost your father.  He was, or is a good friend.”

             
“What about the others?” Margery asked quickly and with a note of panic in her voice.  “What about Coran?” 

             
Katelyn would have asked herself if she could have spoken.  Right then, she was afraid of what the answer would be.  Her hands were gripped tightly together in her lap.  She prayed silently to the Creator that the man would not tell her what she most feared to hear.

             
“There was another body that was too large for a man.  No one knew what it was.”

             
“Describe it,” Stemis said.

             
“It was big like I said, and deformed.  It looked like it had wings or something.”

             
Gelarus cleared his throat.  “I think that I can talk with our friend here about that later.  Right now we want to know the fate of the young man we sent.” 

             
Stemis nodded.  “Yes.  What do you know of Coran?”

             
Katelyn agreed with them most fervently.

             
“There was another body we could not identify.  It was a man.  A tall man.  He was burnt as well, but we could tell he was no Karand.”

             
The statement brought silence to the room.  No one wanted to voice their thoughts on what it might mean.  No one wanted to say what it almost certainly meant.  It was Oran who broke the uneasy quiet.              

“There are plenty of Midians in Arencia.  I am sure that Shevren hired some.”  He said it hopefully.  The Karand
didn’t respond and Oran stared at the wrapped object he held.  He stared at it as if it were a venomous snake ready to strike.  “Did your mother tell you to return that?”  The youth nodded sullenly.  The Lord of Tyelin cleared his throat roughly and turned his face away.  “Then return it to her.”  He pointed directly at Katelyn, his face had gone pale.

             
Gasps could be heard from some as the realization hit them.  It was an old Karandi tradition to take the sword of the fallen back to whoever was closest to him.  It was a sign of respect, and whoever the Karandi’s mother was, she had a great deal of respect for Oran to send her son all the way to Summerhall.  Especially, when he acted like he had never left home before.

             
The young man named Oran, walked down the length of the table until he stopped before her chair.  She pushed her chair back so she could face him, but did not trust herself enough to stand.  He held out the object and she reached for it with trembling hands.  She pulled the blanket aside to see if it was what she feared.  There in the cloth was a sword.  A black handled sword bare of its sheath.  Coran’s sword.  She took it, cloth and all, and clutched it to her like a babe. 

             
Thoughts came to her mind too fast to grasp.  There was a young Karand, a large disfigured shape, Coran’s sword, a burning stable, burning men, men screaming, Coran’s face, Coran screaming.  The thoughts were replaced faster and faster.  They swirled around in her head.  She heard the words again and again. 
Another man, a tall man, burnt as well.  He was no Karand. 
It was too much for her.  Her mind spun around and around until everything went black.

 
              She opened her eyes to see Margery leaning over her.  Her sister’s pretty face was framed by the wealth of her golden hair.  She was wiping tears from Katelyn’s face that she did not remember shedding.  She noticed her mother standing over them both, watching.

             
“Are you all right?” Anne asked her.  Her hair was the same golden color.

             
“What happened?” Katelyn asked as she struggled to a sitting position.  There was no one else in the room.

             
Margery leaned back on her heels, seeing that her sister didn’t need any assistance.  “You were holding the sword and just sort of fell over.”

             
“Fainted,” her mother said.  “You were lucky you did not stab yourself.”

             
The sword!  How could she forget Coran’s sword.  All the thoughts crashed back into her, but slower this time.  She shut them out for now but only because she was so disoriented.  She got to her feet with a helping hand from her mother.

             
“You should go lie down for awhile,” Anne suggested, her voice was full of concern.

             
Katelyn nodded and with her sister at her side she made it back to her rooms.  She didn’t notice anyone along the way.  She ignored the officials who bowed to her as she passed, or the guards who saluted.  Her only thought was getting to her room.  She held Coran’s sword tightly in her fist.  That was probably the reason for some of the strange looks people gave her.

             
Once back in her sitting room she sat down heavily in the cushioned chair.  Her own sword was in the other one where she had left it.

             
“Do you want to talk about it?” Margery asked her.

             
The thoughts were hovering around the edge of consciousness, trying to push their way in.  “I don’t think I can.”              

“Well I need to,” the grief in her sister’s voice shocked her.  Margery had always been so much in control.  She had been the one others came to talk with when they needed it.  Now she was the one who needed someone and Katelyn had failed to notice.  Of course, she was not in the most observing frame of mind.  Margery stood there, trying to hold back the tears.

              Katelyn stood, put Coran’s sword carefully by her own, and hugged her sister.  They held each other for a long time.  They cried, sharing their sorrow. 

              Katelyn spent the rest of the day and the following night in her rooms alone.  Alys came by briefly, but seemed to understand that she needed some time to herself. 

             
That night was the longest she had ever known.  Sleep eluded her.  Every time she closed her eyes she saw his face.  It wasn’t grief alone that kept her up.  There was a feeling that gnawed at her, that grew throughout that endless night.  The only comparison she had was Coran’s explanation of trusting his gut, knowing what was right.  Her gut told her that she would know if anything happened to him.  She wouldn’t need to be told.  She would just know, and what she knew was that she had no sense of him being gone.  That part of him that she carried within her was still there.  She was sure that he was still out there somewhere.  She had her doubts of course.  It was convenient that her gut told her what her heart wanted to hear, and her head had its say as well.  It told her a body and a sword left little doubt of his fate. 

             
When light crept through the curtains to announce a new day, the feeling in her gut was still there.  She would mourn quietly, but at the same time she would hold to the near-certainty of his well-being.  Whether she was right or not it would give her the strength to get out of bed and face the world for another day.  She dressed in expectation of another inspection.  One had been scheduled, but her father might have postponed it.  She hesitated in putting on her sword and stared at the larger one lying next to it.  The doubts crept back in and she had to push them away again.  She clung to her gut feeling and belted her sword in place. 

             
She went in search of her father to inform him of her intention to perform the inspection.  One of the woman who worked in the royal wing told her that the High King was not in his rooms and hadn’t been seen this morning.  Katelyn decided to try his study.  He had probably been up all night.  He had been tired enough lately from worry, if he added guilt on top of that it would do him no good. 

             
She encountered Commander Martin coming from the study and decided to talk with her father later.  The young commander stopped when he saw her.  Martin joined the Knights of Soros at eighteen.  He once said that he never wanted to do anything else.  His skill and intelligence had quickly earned him respect among his peers.  When the last Commander retired from age, Martin was voted into the position by the other Knights.  They always decided such matters themselves, excepting only that the King had to give his blessing. 

             
“Your Highness,” Martin said carefully.  He had been in the room when she fainted. 

             
“Commander.  Are your men ready for their inspection?”

             
Martin glanced back at the closed door of the study.  “His majesty just informed me he would try to take care of it himself, this afternoon.”

             
“I will save him the trouble.  If you are ready that is?”

             
“Now?”  She nodded and he paused.  “They are due a surprise inspection,” he mused, a smile came to his lips.  “I will have your horse saddled and await you in the yard.”               “Since I have nothing better to do right now I will see my own horse saddled,” she told him.

             
That inspection did not go as well for the pride of Summerhall.  As soon as Martin had ridden into the compound, he had called out the Knights for an immediate inspection.  Once assembled, Katelyn rode up and down the ranks.  A few had their clothing slightly askew in their haste to assemble.  They earned themselves a slight frown.  One had armor obviously dull and scratched in one spot.  He got a deeper frown and she noticed beads of sweat appear on his forehead.  After they were dismissed she caught some departing comments.

             
“Tough one she is.”

             
“...wears a sword.”

             
“Knows how to use it I hear.”

             
“...believe that when I see it.”

             
“Don’t mind them,” Martin said from beside her, “it’s just talk.  Some remember a willful little princess.  Others see a strong young woman, a dangerous young woman.  Then there are those who can’t see anything beyond a pretty face.”

             
“And which one are you?” she asked in a serious tone as she turned Arya in preparation for the return ride to the palace.

             
“The first two,” he replied, and it sounded like the truth.  “As for a pretty face, I haven’t been blinded yet.”

             
Katelyn smiled more for his benefit than any sense of amusement.  “Do you think you ever will?”

             
“Who can say what fate has in store for me?”              

Who can say what fate has in store for anyone.  The morning inspection helped keep her mind occupied.  What was she going to use now?  She knew she had to keep busy or risk being consumed by the dilemma of what she felt versus what she knew.