Brian Kittrell - The Immortals of Myrdwyer

Westmarch. Victor and Meklan. I had nearly forgotten. Laedron nodded. “I will. Since we’ll have no use for them, do you have need of our horses?”

“Horses? Of course. I’ll have one of my men accompany you and bring them back when you’re done with them.”

“No need. We’ll hire a coach from here.” Laedron shook Piers’s hand again. “Best of luck to you.”

Favorable winds and a quick ship brought Laedron and his companions from Balfan to Calendport, then a stagecoach carried them through Pendlebridge, across the Great Winding River, and toward Westmarch. Cresting the final hill before the city, Laedron leaned forward and gazed out the window. Funny how those walls seem so welcoming now, whereas they once had been the most frightening thing I’d ever seen. It feels like it’s been more than a month-more like a whole lifetime-since I’ve walked upon friendly soil, breathed Sorbian air, and had no cause to constantly look over my shoulder for enemies at my back.

He watched Valyrie, sensing her anxiety. Now, she must feel the same as I did. “Everything all right?”

She nodded, but he knew something was off and tried to comfort her. “You have nothing to worry about.”

“Nothing to worry about?” she asked. Oh, dear. What have I started? “I have everything to worry about.”

“Like what? Perhaps I can help.”

Brice and Marac, opposite them, turned their heads to the nearest window and acted as if they weren’t paying attention, but Laedron noticed the gesture and knew what they were doing. Like only true friends would.

“I’m nervous about being so far from home… home .” Bowing her head, she hid her tears. “I don’t have a home anymore.”

“Sure you do. You’ll share a home with us in Reven’s Landing.”

She sniffled. “What if your mother doesn’t like me? What if your sister hates me at first sight?”

Of all the things I didn’t want to imagine… but why would they? “They won’t, Val. I think you’re worrying for nothing.”

“How do you know, Lae? How could you possibly know their minds?”

“Because I know Ma and Laren well. They couldn’t turn you away.”

“Of course they can. Why do you think they can’t?”

He smiled. “How could a mother hate the woman her son loves? How could a sister-without any cause or reason-despise her brother’s soul mate? You have a face and a heart that could light up the entire world should the sun ever fail to shine, Val. I think you’re needlessly troubling yourself.”

“Do you really believe that? Or are you just saying that to cheer me up?”

“I believe it.” He took her hand and squeezed it.

The coach stopped short of the gate, and as he’d witnessed the last time he’d visited Westmarch, the guards inspected their wagon and peered through the windows at them.

“They run things tighter in Sorbia, eh?” Valyrie asked. “In the theocracy, carts and wagons might receive a passing glance if the driver is steering recklessly. They search everything here before allowing it to enter?”

“As far as I know.” Laedron rested his head in his hand. “I should say that I’ve never seen it done any other way.”

When the troops seemed satisfied, the guard captain gestured for the coach to proceed. Laedron heard the crack of the reins, then gazed through the window at Westmarch. He had never met the people walking the roads, but a feeling of kinship swept over him. Every business and house felt like his own, as if he could enter any of those buildings and feel at home. He was home, at long last.

His eyes widened when he saw the little alley that led toward Ismerelda’s house. He couldn’t take his eyes off of it until it was obscured from view. I’ll have to visit while I’m here.

The coach ground to a halt, and the driver hopped down from his seat, jogged to the side of the cab, and opened the door. “Westmarch Keep.”

“Thank you for everything,” Laedron said, tipping the man an extra sovereign. A driver like that deserves a bonus. Quick, knowledgeable of the routes, and efficient.

“I wonder what he’ll think when he sees us again.” Brice donned his backpack, then dusted off his clothes.

“Who?” Laedron asked.

“Meklan Draive, of course. Who else?”

“I thought you might be referring to Victor.”

“Why would I? I barely saw the man when we were here.”

Laedron gestured at the arched entry, the huge double doors left open. “No matter. We’ll find neither of them out here in the streets.”

They entered the keep, and the same way they had last time, Marac and Brice ran off toward the east wing, obviously eager to see their mentor again. Laedron was left with Valyrie in the great hall, where she stared in wonder at the fine tapestries, decorative swords, sets of armor, and crests hanging on the walls.

He noticed the lack of students and the quiet in every passage. They must have stopped taking recruits when the war ended. “The mages study in the opposite end, and that’s where we’ll likely find Victor.”

“What kind of man is he, Lae?”

“Hard to say. He’s a right and proper sorcerer, but we never had a personable relationship when I trained here. He was kind and willing to answer any questions I had, but to say that we were friends would be stretching it.”

“Then, why come here? Why not move on to Reven’s Landing?”

“I’m still a knight of the order, and since they set us on a mission, I must at least report that we’ve succeeded in our task. After that, I’m sure that they’ll release us and allow us to return home, for the war is over.” He followed the corridors as he had weeks ago, finding Victor’s office with little trouble. He knocked on the closed door, and hearing an invitation to enter, he opened it.

“Yes?” Victor asked, his eyes locked on the parchment upon which he continued to write.

“We’ve come to-”

Victor dropped his quill and looked up. “A familiar voice. Has our clever apprentice returned from abroad?”

“Yes, Master Altruis. It is I, Laedron Telpist, and we have accomplished our mission.”

Victor stood and walked around his desk. “I heard you did much more than that. Never have I had a pupil achieve so much for our order. And without instructions, no less.” He paused and turned to Valyrie, as if he had just noticed her standing there. He bowed and extended his hand. “Forgive me, Miss, for forgetting my manners.”

She must not have known what Victor wanted because she stood there staring at him. Laedron gestured for her to offer her hand.

When she did so, Victor kissed the back of it, then stood upright. “Might I know your name?”

“Valyrie Pembry, my lord.”

“And you are a friend of our prodigal pupil?”

“I am, and a student of his, I might add.”

“And he’s become a teacher of mages, too?” Victor smiled. “Any friend of his is an ally of ours.”

Laedron asked, “What exactly have you heard about the things that I’ve done?”

“The news of Gustav’s death came first, and we knew it had to be you because the witnesses reported seeing a mage throwing spells in the streets. We waited, but no more word came about you after that. When we heard about Tristan’s demise, we suspected you were involved, and our suspicions were confirmed when the Azura chapter-Master Piers, to be specific-sent us correspondence detailing what had passed there.

“You’ve rid the world of Gustav and Andolis Drakkar, returned the church to more… receptive mentalities, and saved many lives, young man. You’re to be commended.”