Glyphbinder (36 page)

“He didn’t want to drag you into that life. He was afraid he would get you hurt, that those who hunt him would find you and use you against him.” Kara shuddered as she remembered Cantrall.

Ona looked forward. She was frowning now. Kara knew her mother didn’t like to be worried about by anyone.

“Anyway,” Kara continued, “he knows things about glyph magic that never occurred to me. Once I learned what was wrong with you, we worked on it together. We figured out how to fix it.”

“Well. I’m glad you talked.”

“There’s one other thing.” Kara reached into the pocket of her ruined shirt. “Dad gave me two letters. This one’s for you.”

Ona tucked the letter into the pocket of her woolen dress. She didn’t open it. “Just so you’re aware, I’ve told the prince quite a bit about what happened in Highridge Pass.”

“I see.” Kara’s steps faltered. “Have you told him about my great-grandfather?” Melyssa had assured her that was a very bad idea.

“I may have left out a few choice bits. Your true heritage, and something or other about the Five Who Made the World.”

Kara squeezed her mother’s arm. The less people who knew about what had happened at Terras, the less likely anyone would try it again.

Prince Beren dropped off his horse when they approached, a gesture of respect that both surprised and relieved Kara. He waited as they walked, hands clasped behind his back.

“Kara Tanner. Your mother has told me much about you. It’s a right fine tale.”

“It’s all true.” Ona wrapped an arm around Kara’s shoulders. “You have my word as well as hers.”

“Oh, I don’t doubt you, or Solyr. But I wonder why one of your talents waited twelve years to journey to Tarna.” Beren fixed her with a rough grin. “We’d have taken you on at age six.”

Kara bowed as she had practiced. “I’m honored.” She prayed her knees weren’t shaking, but she was too nervous to be sure. After facing down the king of the Underside, this should have been easier.

“We’ll see soon enough who’s honoring whom. Now, tell me what happened at Terras.”

Kara told him everything — at least, everything she could without revealing the involvement of the Five Who Had Made the World. She related how Melyssa Honuron had led her and her friends to Terras on the trail of a renegade Soulmage, caught him as he tried to reopen the gates, and killed him before he could do so. Melyssa had allowed them to travel through the Unsettled Lands without being killed. Some key details were missing.

“And Melyssa Honuron,” Beren said. “She did not return?”

“There were matters at Terras she had to resolve. I don’t know if she will return, my prince, but I hope to see her again. Some day.”

“We encountered the army Ona warned us about on the road. We’ve killed many of them, and I have soldiers sweeping the Martial Steppes for more. Rest assured they will slaughter no more villages.”

“What about the Tellvan? Are we still at war?”

“We’ve sent peace envoys to the Seven Sheiks. They’ll carry news of what happened at Taven’s Hamlet. It won’t convince the sheiks entirely, not without proof, but it may halt their assaults. You and your friends, Kara, may have to testify regarding what you’ve seen.”

“We’ll do all we can. Sera ... the Bloodmender who traveled with me from Solyr ... has clear memories of our enemies admitting they planned to start a war. If nothing else, that’s something.”

“It certainly is.” Beren placed a hand on her shoulder and Kara froze. What was he thinking? He was a prince!

“Your bravery is quite uncommon, and I know your journey hasn’t been without loss. You have my sympathies.

Kara had never imagined a prince of Mynt could feel sympathy for her, but then again, it really wasn’t just her. It was everyone else. Even those who hadn’t died on this journey had their lives upended forever. She didn’t deserve their sacrifice, but she refused to waste it.

She remembered Elder Halde, screaming as he burned. She remembered Jair, choking on the ground of Terras. Aryn, Byn, and Sera would never be the same. Those she loved had sacrificed far too much. She would make her life worth it.

Kara lowered her eyes. “Thank you.”

“Thank me when we’re in court. They like that sort of thing.” He released her shoulder and turned to his subordinate. “Captain Traeger!”

“Yes, my prince?”

“Act as witness to my next decree.” He turned to Kara once more. “Kneel, apprentice of Solyr.”

Kara blinked at him. She knelt.

“You and those under your command have risked your lives to save our province from its enemies. You have proven your worth and loyalty repeatedly. On behalf of the crown of Tarna and of King Haven, I accept Solyr’s nomination to the post of royal apprentice.”

Kara felt like she was dreaming. She wondered if she was.

“Rise, Apprentice Kara of Tarna.”

Kara did so. As one, the legionnaires gathered around them drew their swords and fell to one knee. They placed their sword tips on the ground and bowed their heads.

“Welcome to the royal court.” Beren grinned at her.

Kara took her mother’s hand and squeezed. With friends at her side and a path before her, she saw no challenge in Tarna she could not overcome. She would stop the coming war, lift Sera’s curse, and become the best mage in all of Tarna’s history.

She couldn’t be satisfied with anything less.

THE END

While writing is a solitary pursuit, authors receive support from many people. I’d like to thank a few of those people here.

To my amazing wife, Vanessa — you complement me in every way possible. We couldn’t be a better fit and we make a great team.

To my parents, Dave and Carla — thank you for supporting me through everything, even when your own lives weren’t necessarily smooth. I grew up safe, trusted, and loved thanks to you both.

To my grandmother, Betty — thank you for reading and editing so many first drafts over the years. Your guidance and encouragement is one of the reasons I kept writing.

To my aunt, Suzanne — you introduced me to practically every author I still love today, and those authors and their books have influenced my own work in a hundred ways. Every Christmas I would get a new book from you, from an author I hadn’t read before, and every one of those books was a treat. I don’t think I ever thanked you for that, so it feels fitting to thank you here.

To everyone at McBryde Publishing, but especially to Bill Benners — thank you for sharing your experience, advice, and invaluable critiques. You made this book uniformly better.

To Eryn Kawecki, my editor on this book’s first edition — thank you for filing the edges off my prose, calling out all the confusing stuff I missed, and never, ever letting me get lazy.

To all my advance readers, but especially to Jeremy Sera and Janet Priblo — thank you for your detailed feedback. You are the reason I added several great scenes in this book.

To the amazing staff and volunteers of Balticon, including the people that run the Compton Crook Awards — thank you for your encouragement and for putting together such a great convention.

To the talented writers at the Baltimore Science Fiction Society Critique Circle, and all the new friends and authors I’ve met at various cons — thank you for your support, your advice, and your constant push to improve.

Finally, I want to thank every last person who read a fanfic called
Forgotten Messiah
over fifteen years ago, then sent me an e-mail to tell me how much you enjoyed it. You convinced me I wanted to share my stories with the world and now I do that every day.

For character artwork, information about the Five Provinces, and links to Eric’s blog, Twitter feed, and other stories, please visit www.tebakutis.com.

If you enjoyed this book, please consider leaving a short review on Amazon by
clicking this link
. Every new review helps make an author’s books more visible, and encourages others to take a chance on them as well.

Thank you for reading!

Turn the page for a sneak peek at
Demonkin
, the sequel to
Glyphbinder
. Coming in December 2015.

Ten Years Ago...

Little Jyll whimpered as her mother’s strong arms pushed her into the cupboard, pushed her back as far as she could go into the tiny wooden space. The screams outside grew closer. She dropped Dana, her favorite doll, and clutched her mother’s sleeves.

“Jyll, please!” Yara, her mother, knelt before the cupboard in a brown flour-stained dress. “It’s only for a moment.”

“No!” Jyll pushed at the back of the cupboard with both feet. “Let’s run! We can still run!”

Yara flinched as a deafening crack sounded from outside and another shrill scream echoed down the street. Light from distant fires flickered through their home, falling on tall wooden posts supporting cedar panels sealed with clay. Jyll had seen fire through her windows before, but never this much and never this close.

Her mother stopped pushing and dragged her into a hug. Jyll clutched her mother as Yara stroked her red curls. Her mother wouldn’t let go. She wouldn’t.

“I love you,” Yara said. “I’ll always love you.” Then Yara let her go, pushing her back toward the cupboard. “I need you to be strong for me. It’s like our game, remember? Your favorite hiding spot.”

“It’s dark!” Jyll clutched her mother’s sleeve. "There’s roaches."

Someone rattled the lock on their front door. Yara ripped free of Jyll and hopped up, grabbing a knife off their nocked wooden table. Then the front door burst open and Marel stumbled inside.

“We lost the gate.” Jyll’s oldest sister wore a boiled leather breastplate with the crest of Talos, their small village. Her cloth pants were torn and her muddy boots had splotches of red splatter all over them, but she still clutched her axe. Gunk matted her tangled red hair.

Marel shut the door, lugged the heavy wooden bar off the wall, and dropped it into place. “Lehma and Nat are dead.” She stumbled to the table and tossed down the house key. “I couldn’t save them.”

Jyll gasped. Marel was lying, playing some cruel game. Jyll might only be eight years old — she might still be little — but she knew a cruel game when she heard it. Lehma and Nat weren’t dead. Sisters did not die.

Yara’s knife clattered to the wooden floor. Her mother stood, silent, and stared at the door. Another scream sounded down the street, several screams, over and over and over.

Marel propped herself against the table, breathing hard. Then she looked up. “Mother?”

Jyll only then noticed how pale Marel looked. She only then noticed the red all over her sister, oozing and dripping. Why was there blood on her?

“I understand.” Yara straightened and clenched her hands. “Is there any way out?”

“They’ve got both gates. We fight or we die.” Marel pushed off the table and readied her axe. “Get Jyll hidden. Do it now.”

Yara worked her fingers open. She wound her shoulder-length red hair into a ponytail, cinched it with a cloth wrap, and knelt once more. “Yes, all right.” She turned to Jyll, mouth a flat line.

Glass shattered outside and horses thundered past their house. Then Yara grabbed Jyll and pushed her into the cupboard, pushed her so hard she could barely breathe. Her mother’s wet eyes were wide, her chest heaving, and Jyll gasped and squirmed as her mother pushed.

“Don’t,” Yara pleaded. “Don’t fight me.”

Another crash, another scream. Someone pounding on their door and yelling for help.

“We need you safe,” Yara said. “We love you and we need you so please, stay in this cupboard and don’t make a sound. It’s only for a moment.”

Jyll couldn’t breathe. Her mother was crushing her.

“Everything will be all right.” Her mother took a deep breath and stopped pushing. “We’ll just wait for them to go.” Yara’s voice grew even and calm, a pleasant tone, the way she sounded when she read bedtime stories. “Just be quiet until they leave.”

Jyll’s lip quivered but she refused to cry. Marel made fun when she cried. “Okay.” She could do this for her mother. She could do this one thing.

Her mother smiled. She let Jyll go and all at once Yara’s trembling eased. She picked up her knife, her smile spreading across her face. She rose and looked to the door.

“I’ll see you soon. Not one sound. You promised.” She closed the cupboard and dropped Jyll into darkness.

Cold and the cupboard pressed in around her. There were bugs coming. Jyll fumbled until she found Dana, swept her dolly up, and stroked its thin straw hair. Dana was afraid too.

A man screamed outside the door and heavy boots thudded on their porch. The barred door rattled. Then a great crack made Jyllith jump and she smashed her head on the top of the cupboard. That stung but she dared not cry out. She had promised she wouldn’t.

“They’re coming!” Marel yelled.

The crack came again, dozens of them. Then heavy metal boots stomped across their hard wooden floor. Jyll heard the ring of steel meeting steel. She hugged Dana and dared not breathe.

She heard boots scuffing, blades ringing, Marel grunting the way she did when she trained with Lehma. All pretend. She heard a curse, a thump, and then her mother, screaming the way she had when the Mynt dragged Jyll’s father away.

Jyll’s heart pounded in her ears as tears stung her eyes but she kept quiet, kept her promise to her mother. She had to keep her promise even though she couldn’t breathe.

Armored boots clanked closer. Her mother’s screaming stopped and someone gurgled then, like when Jyll gargled water. When her throat hurt. Then the armored boots stomped away. Then screaming started down the street.

Jyll’s breath burst from her lungs. Her eyes watered and her nose ran no matter how often she wiped it. She waited as long as she dared and then pushed against the cupboard door. It rattled against its thin lock.

She and her mother and all her sisters would run away now. It was time. Once they ran away they would be safe.

She pushed again, pushed harder, pushed her feet against the wooden back, and then the door burst open and she tumbled out. That was when little Jyll saw her mother on the floor with her arms and legs splayed out, eyes closed and mouth wide.

There was no blood. There was no blood on her mother and that meant she was resting, not dead. Just asleep.

“Wake up.” Jyll scrambled over to her mother and tugged her arm. “Let’s go. You promised.”

That was when Jyll noticed Marel in the corner. There
was
blood on Marel, and dirt and gunk and bone, and one eye, Marel’s left eye, had burst open like a grape. Jyll’s own eyes flooded. Once her mother woke up, maybe they could help Marel.

“Please!” Jyll tugged on Yara’s sleeves, tugged hard. “Wake up!”

Slats creaked on her front porch. Jyll snatched her mother’s knife. She would protect her mother until she woke up and then they would run, together, with Marel and Lehma and Nat.

A man stood in her doorway, a big man in thick red robes. He had a bald head, dark eyes, and spiky tattoos that ran from mouth to ears. He was alone.

“Stay back!” Jyll’s knife shook.

The man’s dark eyes narrowed as he frowned. Then he knelt and extended a calloused hand, palm first. The tip of one finger slid across her vision as he drew on the air in his own blood.

“It’s all right, child.” He smiled. “Everything will be all right.”

“Who are you?” Jyll’s eyes grew heavy and her knife clattered to the floor.

“My name is Cantrall.”

“Will you help my mother?”

“Of course I will.”

Cool oozed through Jyll’s bones, through all her insides, and it felt very good. It made her feel safe again. Happy.

“I’m going to take care of you now,” the big man told her as she settled to the floor. “I always will.”

Jyll smiled.

Then she went to sleep.