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By Rhobin Lee Courtright

Her mother demanded that Tyna never expose her true nature, and that she never enter Cygna, the land of witches. Now, her mother is dead and her sister has deserted her. To save her trader’s caravan after disaster strikes, Tyna must break every prohibition. Once inside Cygna’s borders, Tyna learns it is the one place she could be her true self, but the cost will be her freedom and self will. Escape is impossible.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Wings ePress, Inc.
• Release date: Nov 9, 2013
• ISBN: 9781597053143

Book preview

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You must come to Cygna! I know your treasures will sell, the sundries, too. You could get a trader’s permit to travel the back routes. The small villages seldom get traders. I can help you there.

I’ll think on it.

Just think on it? No! You must come! Enthusiasm infused his voice. You could make an excellent profit.

She laughed at his excitement. Profit isn’t everything.

What is more?

She sobered with a rueful smile. Safety. His eagerness faded. She tried to ease her insult. Every warning I’ve ever heard told me to keep out of Cygna. At his offended look, she said, I’m sorry, I mean no disrespect to your home, but you do not know the stories we hear.

Kedriq gave her a contained look, but gave a nod and left. He was gone when she stepped from the wagon. She had upset him and wondered if there were a way to appear less gauche, but knew none. Strange feelings she didn’t wish to examine made her seek the escape of sleep.

Table of Contents

Change Title Page

Dedication

Chapters

Talents Classes:

Meet Rhobin Courtright

Works From the Pen of Rhobin Lee Courtright

Change

Rhobin Courtright

A Wings ePress, Inc.

Fantasy Romance Novel

Edited by: Leslie Hodges

Copy Edited by: Elizabeth Struble

Senior Editor: Elizabeth Struble

Executive Editor: Lorraine Stephens

Cover Artist: Rhobin Courtright

All rights reserved

Names, characters and incidents depicted in this book are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental and beyond the intent of the author or the publisher.

No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publisher.

Wings ePress Books

Copyright © 2008 by Rhobin Courtright

ISBN 978-1-59705-314-3

Published by Wings ePress, Inc. at Smashwords

Published In the United States Of America

Wings ePress Inc.

3000 N. Rock Road

Newton, KS 67114

Dedication

To Lori, Larriane and Wendy

whose comments helped so much.

One

The flaming brand heavy in her hand, Tyna took two steps and thrust the short length of wood into the carefully built structure. Dry kindling quickly ignited. Like a replay of the life it consumed, the fire remained hesitant at first. Small nascent flames crawled in pale transparent lines along pine branches to suddenly crackle with the energy of young life. Air caught and twined the glowing currents in endless possibilities and eddies that eventually whipped into a crescendo of radiance, engulfing the pyre. She imagined she saw her mother writhing within, as she had before the fever claimed her. The image was so strong she nearly called out.

Your mama is now at rest. The cleric patted her arm and left.

At rest? Mama never rested. She caught herself up, hearing Naomi’s curt reply to calling her 'Mama'. I am Naomi, owner of a caravan and mother of two girls, but still myself. You will call me Naomi. Her words backed her strong Kernite belief that the Holy One was everyone’s parent; his followers were all brothers and sisters, meant to work together but maintain independence. Tyna murmured an answer to her memory. I am sorry, Naomi, but you will always be my Mama.

Nor would Naomi have approved of the funeral service, but no Kernites homesteaded in the surrounding area. At least the Holy One’s words given by the cleric provided Tyna comfort.

Her workers spoke their condolences, then left for the caravan’s campsite. Tyna remained. She watched the flames until the conflagration died and only embers remained. There would never be reconciliation with Kissre. She had sent messages, but her sister had neither come nor sent word. She should have been here, should have helped, should have made peace and said goodbye. Now her chance was gone. Death never waited on personal choice.

Jebe stood nearby. A man hired by her mother to lead and protect the caravan. Unreliable, stout, middle-aged Jebe, who needed frequent hygiene reminders and memory prods about life’s niceties. He covets your caravan. She put the thought aside as inappropriate.

As the fire ebbed, Jebe urged her home. They walked along the icy riverbank to the painted and merchandise-festooned wagons of Naomi’s trade caravan, grouped on the fringes of a small hamlet. Jebe helped her step onto the back door step of her wagon and waited while she lit the lamp hanging outside the door. He bid her goodnight. She watched him walk away.

Stepping into the wagon she looked around the interior. Fresh awareness of her loss brought tears denied during the funeral. Her mother’s work gown hung next to hers. All their small necessities of dress and personal adornment intertwined within the small space. But Naomi was gone, and continuing the caravan fell to her. A gust of wind blew out the lamp. She closed the wagon’s door. Sinking onto her narrow bed, she listened to the wind. Eventually rain poured over her wagon, drumming a soft, slushy rhythm on the roof, broken later by the hard rap of hail.

~ * ~

Morning light filtered through the curtain of the one small window. Tyna threw an arm over her eyes. There was so much to accomplish that she didn’t want to do. She heard her mother. Rise lazy one and get about starting the day. Naomi had never put up with sloth. Repudiating her desire to stay warm in her bed, Tyna rose. She needed to take charge of her life.

Naomi had started this business to ensure their future. It was now up to Tyna, for Kissre would never join her.

"Kissre took her own path. Stop fretting over her." Naomi again, never very forbearing. Tyna realized she would have to carry this burden alone and wondered if she were up to it. Sitting up, she shivered in the frigid air and threaded fingers through her mass of curly hair. She should have braided it to prevent this tangle. While she pulled on warm clothing, her thoughts returned to her work.

Five wagons were ready for the journey to Sunderland. Finding the proper market had not been easy, but on previous trips Naomi discovered Sunderland had many rich burghers with sources deep enough to pay exorbitant prices for the goods they wanted. Goods Naomi made sure to provide this trip. Heading out at the beginning of the year meant traveling with the threat of dangerous weather, but true winter had not yet arrived. Gossip with customers proclaimed the Cygnese witches held off the snow. Tyna hoped if that were true, then let them hold it off all the way to Sunderlund.

Two wagons held a combination of both traditional and unusual merchandise bought on their circuit through the provinces of Kaereya—Kennetsure silks, Wessure linens, Norsure finely spun wools and furs, sewing tools and threads, fine forged tools, cooking pots, and copper ewers from Easure. From beyond the Doane Desert Naomi had managed to obtain extraordinary embroidered silks, handcrafted rugs and leather goods, amulets, unusual spices, and bottles of the rare and infamous distilled liqueur whose very fumes caused intoxication. Tyna’s contribution and passion filled a third wagon, an accumulation of antiquities, small treasures and curiosities, including a unique mechanical clock that chimed the marks of the day, a rarity from across the great sea.

The fourth wagon held necessities and food for the journey. It also provided a place for the two hired men and their wives to shelter in the severest weather. Jebe preferred sleeping in a tent attached to one of the wagons.

She lived in the fifth wagon. Within its close interior, personal items mixed with precious metals, finely crafted jewelry, pearls, and the most valuable of the merchandise, ancient handcrafted prayer books. A strongbox filled with two years’ profit lay hidden inside. Only she now knew of its existence.

In mourning deference to her mother she donned a simple dark day gown. Her fingers ran over the embroidered edging. The seamstress had deftly hidden the number six in the design. All Kaereyan’s prized their personal numbers and all clothing always contained the wearer’s number somewhere. The words of the priest who had educated her and Kissre filtered through her thoughts. Lucky girl. Your number is six. The number provides the recipient volition and choice, perseverance, desire and love. You should beware the negative aspects, which include hate, irresolution, and bad circumstance. Tyna sighed. An emotional number and she wondered why the priest had bestowed such a painful number on her. She covered herself in a heavy long coat. Stepping from her wagon her foot slid on ice lining the step. It made her doubt her decision to travel this early in the year, but then reasoned she had no choice. The campfire’s warmth was welcomed. Everyone gathered there but Jebe. When a village was nearby, he spent the night there.

Her two women, Mari and Sussi, rose and cleaned up the meal makings. Sussi gave Tyna her stool and Mari patted her on the shoulder as she passed her. Water heated in a black iron kettle and Tyna prepared herself a cup of tea. The men watched her as they finished their day’s first meal. She sensed their sympathy and uncertainty of what to expect, what to say. She smiled briefly at them, lowered her eyes and drank her tea in silence. Itinerant workers, they had been with the caravan but a short time, and she felt no closeness with them.

Jebe arrived as the others rose to greet villagers coming into the camp for their last day of purchasing. He loaded a wooden plate with the skillet’s remains and squatted to eat, ignoring all but his food.

Tyna poured herself a second cup of tea. Her eyes wandered the area, and noticed a man walking into camp. He dressed in plain travelers’ garb with an encompassing fur-lined burlet covering his head. He looked around, then headed toward her. An unusual shaggy looking longhaired gray pony stood tethered at the camp’s edge.

Mistress Pierce? the stranger asked in a pleasant voice.

Yes? She looked at him, not really seeing him or caring.

My condolences, mistress, I would not intrude on you at such a time, but I heard in the village that your wagons would be traveling through Seer Pass. That is, if you are still going after your recent loss and this early in the year?

I must go. The armed escort I hired arrives tomorrow.

Then might I join you as far as the Cygna cutoff? I am willing to pay.

Cygna? That is a very strange place to part. They do not welcome visitors, you know.

I know. A broad smile spread across his face. But I am only returning home and looking for those who might be traveling in that direction.

Her eyes strayed to the pony, a Cygnese mountain pony. A flicker of interest entered Tyna. You are from Cygna? I did not think anyone from there ever left their homeland.

I have finished a pilgrimage. Now I am tired of travel and want to return home. I just want a safe journey.

He spoke true. Seer Pass was dangerous for a lone traveler, a quirk of geography and politics. The land’s ownership remained disputed between Cygna on its northern border and Kaereya on its south. The lack of clear ownership had led to many skirmishes and an inconclusive war between the two countries. It also meant little protection from the bandits who sheltered there. Few entered Seer Pass without the protection of numbers.

You best plan on camping with us tonight, then. We leave at dawn tomorrow.

He smiled again and performed a gracious bow. Thank you. I accept your invitation. He backed several steps before turning to leave. Tyna watched him until he mounted his pony and rode into the village.

Tyna? Jebe spoke from across the campfire, drawing her attention. We should not take others with us—especially someone from the witch country.

Why not? The more who travel with us, the safer we are. She gave him a bleak smile. You guide us, the escort will protect us from the outlaws, and I’ll protect you from the witches.

You can do that?

He sounded so serious Tyna laughed. There is nothing to it. Cygna’s witches won’t harm us for returning a Cygnese citizen home. They probably won’t even know this traveler returns home. The witches themselves never leave.

Are you sure you wish to continue, Tyna? I could take the wagons through and sell the goods.

Tyna glanced at her guide and half-smiled. No. I need to do this.

You need time to grieve for your mother.

Thank you, but I will be going. I know who gave Naomi orders for special merchandise. It is important to fulfill those orders and remain in good-grace with our contacts.

You could tell them to me. I could handle it.

No. This is my caravan now. I need to take responsibility for it. She felt her brows crunch with refreshed grief and bit her bottom lip to prevent tears. Sitting and crying in a corner somewhere won’t make grieving Naomi any easier. Work will.

~ * ~

Eldin slowly sipped the flat ale in his mug. The Spotted Pig reeked of ale, dirty bodies, and rotting fish. The musty smell of repeated flooding underlined the other scents. The disrepair and filth offended him, but the small town didn’t offer better than this waterside shack. Tonight the tavern filled with the crews off numerous small riverboats. Their dinghies lined the dock surrounding the building. Inside, the crowd offered anonymity, but he kept his back to the wall anyway. Arm wrestlers with their attending audience produced a rough cacophony that drowned conversation.

He felt lonely, isolated by his surroundings. Traitor, a weak inner voice lashed, but he ignored his guilt. In quiet moments like this, his deeds nipped at his conscience. King Clement offers more than I could ever gain in Kaereya. My future lies in Pertelon now, and I’m trained for the service the king requires. He sighed. That service and the constant travel stretched his physical capabilities. His lethargy testified to his fatigue.

One of his contacts had made the offer and entered the bar accompanied with the guide from the caravan, pointing the man to Eldin’s table. The guide searched Eldin, his eyes filled with an unflattering appraisal. Eldin felt his cheek twitch at the implied insult. Many made the mistake of equating size with manliness. The guide swiped his mouth on his hairy forearm before he walked to the table.

Eldin inspected the sloppy man who pulled out the bench across the table from him. A thick arm rose to hail a maid for service. Busy with other patrons, the waitress didn’t notice the beckoning hand.

You’re Jebe? He gave an equally dismissive look, but the man missed the slight, his attention focused on gaining the maid’s notice. Jebe only nodded his head once. Does anyone know you’re here? Eldin smiled, but didn’t bother introducing himself.

No. The girl’s grieving. She entered her wagon before I left. Jebe waved again.

Eldin wondered if the man was as impervious to the blonde beauty of his diminutive employer as his words implied. A young boy of maybe twelve caught the signal and brought a flagon to the table. His guest did not coin the youngster and both looked at Eldin with expectation. Eldin threw a silver coin on the table. The boy grabbed it and left, but not before Eldin noticed the quick look cast at the child from across the table.

What is it you want? I was told there was coin for me in coming here. His table companion’s interest changed, and Eldin followed the avid gaze to the unappealing harlots present.

A man joined your caravan today.

Yes. He says he’s from Cygna.

He is. A witch.

The man’s grizzle-bearded face turned to him, his horror evident. Truly? You know this? He looked worried.

Let me help you. Removing a small pouch from his coat pocket Eldin pushed it across the table.

A huge paw of a hand fell over the pouch. Fingers felt the contents before sliding it off the table. Below the table’s level he heard coins chink into a palm. The man’s eyebrows rose as he carefully refilled the pouch and placed it in his own pocket. How can you help me?

Relive you of the man. Your mistress hired a group of armed escorts to see you through the pass. Let two men join them.

Suspicion lined the watching eyes. Why do you want rid of the witch?

The oaf was cannier than he looked. Witches are dangerous to everyone, aren’t they? You wanted to get rid of this one yourself.

That’s true.

Eldin knew the coins weighed heavy in the man’s pocket, making him ready to accept reason. He added more. The Holy One has made it my mission to destroy these demons before they cause damage outside the boundaries he set about them.

You are with the Holy Orders?

Eldin bowed his head without replying.

His visitor swigged the last of his flagon’s contents. Are they that dangerous?

They can control another’s mind, and turn the Holy One’s province of the sky, his command of rain, clouds and fogs, even lightning, to their own desire. I’ve heard they can control the ground and whether crops will grow on a piece of land or not. Only evil can come from witches.

Why not kill him and be done with it?

Eldin laughed. He would know you were coming for him as you thought of it. The men I want to send with you know how to take care of witches and keep their own lives. You will not be sorry.

Jebe nodded, swallowed the remains of his ale, rose and left. The man who’d brought him slid onto the bench and relaxed against the high back. He was of Eldin’s size, but tough looking, hard of countenance, with expressionless eyes. He was dressed in the rough clothing and furs of the nomads known as Pathfinders. Eldin gave his orders. Have your men show up with the armed escort tomorrow. He drank from his own flagon. You know other ways into Cygna?

The man nodded and took a deep draft from his flagon. Traveled them ways many times.

And you can assure me the caravan will not escape the pass?

Another nod. They’ll be too busy with their many breakdowns and bad luck to notice much else. Trouble along the way makes the game easier. There are those I know who will be glad to know of a rich caravan coming their way. Won’t tell them one of the travelers is a witch. The Vere Aegis scares them enough as it is. They don’t want to raise the fury of the witch country. Don’t know witch weaknesses like me.

You’re not afraid?

Gave up being afraid long ago. Don’t mind dying if I can take a witch or two with me. Lots of folk in Cygna feel the same.

~ * ~

The Cygnese traveler hadn’t returned by the time Tyna entered her wagon for the night. It had been a long day. She had not accomplished much beyond talking with the escort leader and sitting in a morose mull by the campfire. At the dark, early-morning hour when she emerged from her wagon, he stood next to the campfire warming his hands over the rising heat. He nodded at her. She stepped back into her wagon and picked up a second cup before she walked to the circle of embers. They were porcelain, and rare, but Naomi always claimed they made the tea taste better. Today, they provided comfort.

They’ve saved you some sausages, he said.

I’m not hungry. Why don’t you finish them? Tyna poured the boiling water from a kettle already on the fire over the precious tea leaves. Inhaling the comforting fragrance while the brew infused, she studied her new road companion.

I’ve eaten. If you do not eat them, they will go to waste.

She dropped her eyes. He stood above her, blond, attractive, of a medium height somewhat taller than herself. She guessed him a few years older than her own one-and-twenty. I never asked your name.

Kedriq. He knelt next to her facing the dying fire. Oner. The hesitation made it sounded like he had trouble remembering his own name.

And you have been traveling? She inquired, holding out a cup.

Not as far or to as many places as yourself, I’m sure. He displayed a smiled edged with charming dimples as he took the dainty cup. She did not respond, so he filled the silence. Even a traveling Cygnese stays close to home. With his free hand he withdrew a pouch from a pocket in his cloak. She heard coins shift as he placed it near her.

He sniffed at the contents of the small cup he held in awkward unfamiliarity. She slowly sipped from her cup. It’s tea. This comes from the Zankiri Peninsula of Kaereya’s Kennetsure province. They grow and enjoy it there. The porcelain is from the Doane desert.

I didn’t travel that far, he said and copied her method of holding the cup and sipped his tea. His gaze rose to her from his cup and his lips twitched at her regard. An interesting flavor.

It grows on you. They drank their tea as the noise of breaking camp for the day grew around them and the outriders arrived.

The wagons are ready, Tyna, Jebe said as he walked up to the fire. Both Tyna and Kedriq rose. The look of fear, apprehension and malice Jebe cast at their traveler gave Tyna a moment’s concern. Then she decided Jebe would have to cope, this was her decision. Kedriq handed her his cup, nodded and moved away.

He is profit. Leave him alone, she said. Jebe frowned and his brows tilted in an angry look, but he ate the remaining sausages and returned to his work.

She picked up the bag of coins and placed them in her coat pocket. Pouring the kettle’s contents on the fire, she glanced at Kedriq. He had missed the incident, or had supreme control over his expression. Tyna carefully wiped both cups clean and returned them to her wagon. When she came back, Jebe talked with the escort leader. She noticed two more riders than he had promised, and hoped he didn’t expect extra pay after the hand sealing of their agreement.

Here, at the mouth of the Hex, the river ran slow and wide and the land lay in flat ribbons only inches above the water’s level. A Royal Guards garrison upriver afforded Kaereya’s protection from outlaw incursions. Once past the garrison, however, in the steep confines of Seer Pass, the Hex flowed much swifter, snaking through bandit-infested cliffs. There the outriders would earn their pay.

She felt the difference in this journey immediately. Her mother had always walked with her during the day, and they took turns prodding the lead ox team while they talked or enjoyed familial silence. Already desolation assailed her. She turned and saw Kedriq approach, leading his pony.

Will you walk with me? I’d like to hear about Cygna.

Kedriq’s step slowed and his expression seemed to judge her purpose. It was clear Jebe had overheard her invitation from where he sat mounted and ready to travel.

Please? It will help take my mind from my sorrows.

As Kedriq tied his pony behind her wagon, she prodded the closest oxen twice on the flank to urge the team forward. Her wagon was light enough to use only a single tandem. Two of the wagons required double-tandem teams. Luckily the animals, once started, usually just followed the wagon in front of them. In the style of Kaereya’s Easure province, the oxen’s curled horns were decorated with charms, chimes and whirligigs. A slight river breeze moved the bright colored toys. The sight didn’t bring its usual cheer to Tyna. With the wagons started and the escort in place, she turned her attention to the traveler who would walk with her.

Kedriq smiled as he returned to her side. Tyna didn’t smile back but enjoyed how his smile animated his face. He didn’t seem discomfited but his expression sobered. Jebe’s reaction might have been the right one. The man was more than likely a witch and she had reason to avoid witches. How did you enjoy Easure?

I only traveled as far as Acolyte Island. Still, it was very different from my home.

How so? He looked like no religious pilgrim she had seen, so his story didn’t ring true. Tyna hid her frown by tapping the oxen once more. Her lead team occasionally became reluctant to move forward, especially facing unpredictable winds. Tending the animals gave her reason to turn away lest her thoughts showed in her expression. Pilgrimage to an island monastery so close to the home of King Frederick’s court seemed unusual, especially after the recent events. She speculated on his purpose.

My homeland is more conservative. Exaggerated fashions, bright colors, high-flying kites and sound-makers and whistles aren’t a part of the scenery.

She gave a nod of agreement. Easure is more colorful than most places. Whenever I travel through the island province I wonder what they celebrate. In other places the citizens tend to dress up only on special occasions, but the Easureans seem to think every day a holiday.

I always imagined all cities were much the same.

Tyna laughed and closed her eyes, envisioning the places she had been. Not so. I can identify a city not only by sight, but by its sound and smell. She attended to the oxen for a minute. With all the recent strife in Kaereya, you picked a poor time to visit.

The king’s death has horrified and panicked many. It is good that their legendary Aegis keeps the country’s borders safe.

You don’t believe that story? Tyna scoffed with a huff. Rumors claim the Aegis, like the Protector, don’t exist.

He shrugged. "I have no special insight into the truth. One