Reign of Shadows - Deborah Chester [30]
She had been the sun in his life to his father’s moon. She had been the gentle pressure of a loving hand on his shoulder after his father’s scolding. She had bustled around the hold, directing the housework and singing melodies, her voice as clear as birdsong.
He had been eight when she died giving birth to Lea. The grief was gone now, faded through the years, but he had never stopped missing her.
Homecoming was never quite the same without her at the hearth, waiting to greet him.
Always cautious, always taking the worst trails in order to keep under as much cover as possible, they rode all day through the mountains. They passed other, smaller waterfalls also hanging frozen. Natural springs that in summer would seep from the rock faces now lay dormant in the grip of winter.
Once Caelan spotted a band of lurkers high in the rocks overlooking a ravine, but they were too far away to be a problem.
By twilight when Caelan and Beva descended into the thick pine forests of the plateau, Caelan was saddle sore and weary. His wounded shoulder ached, and with each landmark they passed, he grew more eager for home.
Finally the forest cleared and there stood the while limestone walls. Thin spirals of peat smoke curled in the air—smelling homey, warm, and beckoning. Recognizing their stables, the weary ponies quickened their pace, and Caelan would have let his mount gallop in had his father not been there.
The watchman, Old Farns, called down from the walls, and Beva replied. His grave, even voice could not be mistaken. In minutes, the gates were being pushed open, and Caelan found himself being greeted by familiar, eager faces crowding around to see him.
Farns stood to one side, his hands swathed in the thick, clumsy warding gloves. He held the warding key while they came through.
“Just in time, Master Beva,” he said, relief clear in his gruff voice. “It’s almost nightfall.”
Caelan did not hear his father’s reply. The gates were pushed shut and locked, and Old Farns reset the key. People surrounded Caelan, clapping him on the back, asking questions, faces glowing with simple pleasure to see him again.
Happiness filled him. The servants were openly pleased at his return. Perhaps they did not yet know why he was home, but even then they would not care. Caelan grinned all around, glad of the welcome. It was good to be home, safe and loved, once again.
“Let’s take you in to the fire,” said Anya the housekeeper. Plump and motherly, she clucked over both Caelan and Beva. “Worn through and half frozen alike. This weather’s no good for traveling.”
“Any trouble?” Beva asked.
Old Farns shook his head, then looked up to study the night sky. “Snow will be coming again. We expect a storm, the way the wind’s turned to come off the glacier.”
“Good,” Beva said curtly and handed his healer’s kit and saddlebags to his assistant.
Gunder was lanky and taciturn, a devout believer in severance. He had come to E’nonhold years ago to serve as an apprentice, but lacked sufficient talent to become a healer. Instead, he seemed content to remain here forever, humbly serving Beva in any capacity he was allowed.
“There are Neika in the hold,” he said quietly. “One with a broken leg that needs setting.”
Beva nodded. “I will make my rounds presently.”
Gunder bowed his balding head and strode away, shoulders stooped against the wind.
“May be in for a long howler,” Old Farns said, still sniffing the wind. “We’ve not enough peat gathered.”
“Then we’ll have to be cold,” Beva said. His voice was short with fatigue. “There’ll be no forays until we have word the army is well beyond the borders of Trau. Is that clear?”
Without waiting for a reply, he walked away.
The servants exchanged