Weaver's Revenge: Weavers Saga, #1

By S. K. Vaughn

     In eternity past, the Maker created the first three weavers and taught them how to weave the Song. He created the looms from the First Tree and the resources that would be woven into the Song. He explained his plan for the Song and asked the weavers if they would commit their lives to weaving the Song. After a time to considered, they agreed, and so, they wove. Each weaver contributed their own quality and creativity to the Song, and they harmonized together to create the life-giving energy and loving power of the Song. Life burst forth from the world in response to the Song.

     Over the eons of time, from the far north came the Song each day. It renewed the world with its power and its joy. Every living thing echoed its melody and harmonized with it. Though, all was not right in the world the Maker had created. The Maker's decision to allow his creation free will seemed to be a mistake. More and more, people were choosing to reject the Song and embrace evil. Pride, greed and fear became the dominate voice in many minds and the much of the world waxed cold and barren despite the ongoing giving of the Song.

     Then on a warm spring night, Varnak, the illegitimate son of a princess, was born. He was endowed with the true power of words, and his potential power and value caused his abduction from his family, and eventually led him to the Weavers' Castle, where the Song was woven. There he became one of the three weavers. As with all humanity, selfishness and service battled in his mind, and eventually, he embraced pride and rejected the other weavers and was banished. On the shore of the great northern lake where the Weaver's Castle lay, Varnak discovered a way to influence the Song and thus began the time of Varnak. He devised a plan to regain the complete control of the Song and the world. To do that he needed a way back into the Weaver's Castle, which was impossible for him but not for someone of pure heart. So began the search for the One.

• Language: English
• Publisher: S. K. Vaughn
• Release date: May 4, 2022
• ISBN: 9781732651227

Book preview

BOOK ONE OF THE WEAVERS’ SAGA

WEAVER’S REVENGE

◊◊◊

S. K. VAUGHN

Copyright © S. K. Vaughn 2022

All rights reserved.

No part of this publication may be altered, reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form, by any means, including, but not limited to, scanning, duplicating, uploading, hosting, distributing, or reselling, without the express prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of reasonable quotations in features such as reviews, interviews, and certain other non-commercial uses currently permitted by copyright law.

Disclaimer:

This is a work of fiction. All characters, locations, and businesses are purely products of the author’s imagination and are entirely fictitious. Any resemblance to actual people, living or dead, or to businesses, places, or events is completely coincidental.

Table of Contents

Prologue

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

One Year Later

Chapter 17

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Chapter 25

Chapter 26

Chapter 27

Chapter 28

Chapter 29

Chapter 30

Chapter 31

Chapter 32

Chapter 33

Chapter 34

Chapter 35

Chapter 36

Prologue

Sweat dripped from the tip of Princess Karina’s slender nose as the birth pang subsided. She fell back into the silk, sweat-soaked pillows and gasped for air. Her golden, disheveled hair lay limp over her glistening shoulders. The midwife directed the servant girl to wipe the princess’ face with a cool, wet cloth. Candles flickered in a faint breeze of night air.

You’re doing well, my dear, the midwife encouraged. It won’t be long now.

Though worry filled her mind, she smiled calmly at the princess. She feared Princess Karina had lost too much blood and was too weak to deliver the baby. The midwife prayed to the Maker to help the princess and her child live and that she would survive the night.

Another birth pang came, and Karina screamed. She grabbed the midwife’s arm, and her nails drew blood. Karina pulled the midwife close to her face and whispered, You must save my baby. But it’s too early, isn’t it? He must live. The Weavers…

The princess was right. It was too early.

The midwife’s mind teetered on the edge of panic. Taking some deep breaths, she tried to calm herself and said, Have no fear, my dear. You must push with all your might at the next pang. Breathe deeply now and push!

Karina’s face turned red, and she clutched the bedcover as her body bent forward. The baby’s head and shoulders emerged from the womb, and with one final push, the baby came into the world. To the midwife’s surprise, it was a stout, healthy boy. She cut and tied the umbilical cord and cleaned the baby’s mouth and nose. She blew in the child’s face, and he began to breathe. Most babies cried when she did that, but he didn’t. He opened his eyes and peered at the midwife. She felt the baby looking through her, as if he could see into her soul. An overwhelming desire to keep the child filled her heart, and along with it, a fear that she had lost her mind. Just then, chaos burst through the door, wrenching her eyes away from the child’s face.

The door slammed against the wall as a massive soldier rushed into the room, pushing the princess’ two ladies-in-waiting before him. The midwife turned from the door and fell to the ground, covering the baby. Screams filled the room. The midwife crawled under the bed with the baby cradled in her arm. The two servants crumpled to the floor beside the bed, and the soldier jerked her out by her feet. She clung to the baby and cried for mercy.

Ignoring her cries and pleading eyes, the soldier plunged his sword into the midwife’s belly and caught the baby in his arm as the midwife fell to the ground.

As he wrapped the baby in a blanket, the child’s eyes stunned him. Fear seized his heart before he could look away.

He scanned the devastation. Bloody, broken bodies littered the room. He stepped to the bedside and peered down into the lifeless eyes of the beautiful young Princess Karina.

It was such a waste. At least now, she would never shame the name of Peralta again by sleeping with a common minstrel. Lord Mandrel Peralta, the Lord of Lynera, had given Captain Durn specific orders about his bastard grandson. Take the child and kill everyone else, including the princess.

Later that night, the wind whipped Captain Durn’s cloak as his mount cantered down the rocky trail to the sea. He hastened toward the Crossroads of Kerin, where a woman dressed in the robes of a priestess would be waiting for the baby. The child’s warmth against his body calmed him. He wondered if the baby would survive the night, then he dismissed the thought. It was none of his business if the child lived or died. Though as he rode, the memory of the baby’s eyes kept returning to his mind. Thoughts of taking the child and keeping him for his own began to dominate his consciousness, but that was insanity. He would never survive the night if he took the child.

It was as if the baby was calling to him. The desire to keep the child became so strong Captain Durn pulled his horse to a stop, and he turned back toward the castle, but after a moment, the fear of Lord Peralta overrode the desire to keep the child, and he turned back and cantered off once again toward the sea.

It was still dark when he reached the crossroads. He reined his mount to a stop. In the cold, vapor billowed from the horse’s nostrils. The baby cooed as a black-shrouded figure stepped out of the forest onto the roadway. Something about it caused his sword hand to itch. He felt the baby press against his body, and his desire to protect and keep the child doubled.

He drew his sword and called, Who goes there? Declare yourself and state your business.

The black-cloaked stranger continued to walk toward him.

Hold there. If you come any closer, you do so at your own peril.

Be at peace, good Captain Durn. I’ve come at Lord Mandrel’s command, the hooded figure whispered. Give me the child.

Remove your cloak and let me see your face and raiment.

As you wish.

The person opened the cloak and pulled back the hood, revealing the rough-spun clothes of a holy woman and a face of incredible beauty. Her golden eyes pierced his heart, and the shape of her lips and the shimmer of her auburn hair captivated him. The desire to keep the baby faded in the fire of her golden eyes. Without any further hesitation, he handed her the baby.

Thank you, Captain Durn. You’ll receive a great reward for your work tonight, she said as she reached up to touch his cheek.

It was my pleasure, he said with a smile.

Farewell, then, she said with a wink.

As she removed her hand, her fingernail scratched the captain’s cheek. He felt the small cut but thought nothing of it. Thinking of her eyes, he turned his horse around and headed back up the trail. Then the wave of nausea hit him. He pulled on the reins, and his mount came to a stop. The cold crept up his legs and into his body, and he slid from his saddle. Staring up into the night sky, he thought about the irony of his death. He had survived over a hundred battles, and now he would die from the scratch of a fingernail. He was just about to lose consciousness when the woman’s face appeared above him. The last thing the captain felt was the touch of her luscious lips on his.

BOOK I

Fourteen years later

Chapter 1

The True Power of Words

The Winter Solstice arrived bright and clear. Excitement shimmered in the air as the nobles and bards of the surrounding kingdoms headed toward Lord Karseth’s Great Hall.

Gold and blue banners snapped in the cool breeze as the contingent of bards and apprentices from Corsar made their way to the castle. Cheering crowds lined the streets. Varnak, the young apprentice to Ramon, High Bard of Lord Karseth, waved back to the crowd as he walked, pretending they were cheering for him. Paper streamers and confetti filled the cobbled street as Lord Karseth’s bards marched to the Great Hall. The attention and cheers were intoxicating. All the Corsarian bards wore matching blue velvet robes with gold embroidery. Even the apprentices wore new blue tunics and hats. Varnak saw his reflection in a window and was pleased with how good he looked in his new clothes.

As hosts, the Corsarian bards were the last to enter the Great Hall, and a cheer rose from the nobles and merchants as they entered. Four immense hearths held roaring fires, filling the room with warmth. Thousands of candles illuminated every corner and alcove of the Great Hall. Varnak had never seen anything like it. His face hurt from smiling so much.

Yet, the only thing that was missing was him being in the competition, but as an apprentice, he was too young. This would have been the perfect event to debut his talent.

The gong was struck, and everyone found their seats. Lord Karseth stood, and a hush fell over the room.

Welcome to Corsar, honored guests. It is a pleasure to welcome all of you to the one hundred and tenth contest of bardic ability. We’re gathered here today to declare the best bard in all the land, a tradition dating back into the Time of Darkness. Over the years, we’ve enjoyed the power and beauty of the words the Maker has given us. As you know, the Maker used words to create the world, and we, in our limited way, use words to create ours. In the days of old, the royal bards held the true power of words, and we hope the power of the words will, one day, be restored. Let the contest begin!

Once again, a cheer filled the room. Lord Karseth took his seat, and the judges and contestants moved to the designated locations.

Lords and Ladies, the first event will be the recitation of randomly selected songs from the list of The Thousand, the songs all bards are required to know. The first-class bards will compete on the main platform. The second-class will compete on the northern platform, the third-class on the eastern platform, the fourth-class on the southern platform, and the fifth-class on the western platform. Lord Karseth wishes good fortune to all the competitors, the Steward of the Contest declared.

There was a flurry of movement as many nobles moved to seats near the western platform.

Who is that ugly man walking with the beautiful lady? Varnak asked the apprentice bard standing next to him.

That’s Cedric the Prince of Restoria.

Varnak thought Cedric’s hooked nose was too wide for his close-set eyes, and his blockish head, with its thin blond hair, was too large for his weak chin.

I heard his father was going to disown him when he reached the age of awareness, but all that has changed. Evidently, Cedric has a knack for finding untapped bardic talent. Over the last few years, he has proven his value to his father many times over. The bards of Restoria’s status has risen to the top of the bardic list and, along with it, the reputation of Cedric. As you can see, his popularity and wealth have attracted beautiful women and the best warriors of the land to his entourage, despite his obvious unpleasant character and appearance, the apprentice added.

One of the many stewards serving the attendees handed Varnak a tray of sweetmeats. This is for Lord Karseth. Take it directly to him.

Yes, sir.

Cedric was talking with his lovely blonde-haired companion when Varnak walked by with the tray.

Here, boy. Bring me that tray! Cedric demanded.

I’m sorry, my Lord, but this tray is for Lord Karseth.

You dare to defy me? I’ll have your ear for your insolence! Cedric yelled as he reached over and grabbed Varnak’s ear and twisted it.

Varnak tried to pull away from him, but Cedric’s grip was stronger than he expected. Warm blood dripped down his neck from where Cedric had torn the skin around his ear. Pain filled his mind and tears filled his eyes as he struggled to free himself from Cedric’s grip.

Don’t think you can get away from me so easily, boy. Does it hurt? Oh, you’re crying. You should have thought of that before you defied me, Cedric laughed.

That was too much for Varnak. When Cedric laughed, something broke in his soul. In a crescendo of uncontrolled rage, the words of a satire came rushing from his clear, strong voice in a song of power.

Your power is illusion; your influence is in confusion, like the smoke of a fire in the eyes of your enemy coming to kill you. Your very bones are weak. Your heart is meek, and there is no solace for you.

Time stopped for Varnak.

The air popped and crackled with energy. The force of the song pushed the air away from Varnak. The rush of wind caused the nearby contestants to stop speaking, and everyone looked in his direction. The stinging words of Varnak’s song had an immediate, physical effect on Cedric. He dropped to the floor in a crumpled heap. Varnak’s voice grew louder and stronger with his anger. When Varnak finally took a breath, Ramon the High Bard of Corsar, who had made his way to the disturbance, leaped to Varnak’s side and covered his mouth with his hand. The moment the sound stopped, Varnak’s power released Cedric.

Cedric’s companions helped him stand up and began brushing off his clothes. He pushed them away and asked in dazed confusion, What happened? What is the meaning of this?

Varnak saw the look of fear on Cedric’s entourage’s silent faces.

This young apprentice was overcome with loyalty to his Lord. He didn’t realize his error. We beg your forgiveness on this great occasion, Ramon said, using all of his verbal influence.

Well, even though I’m the Prince of Restoria, and he’s just a lowly servant, I’ll forgive him.

That’s most gracious of you. May the Maker bless you for your mercy and kindness. I’ll make sure this apprentice doesn’t offend anyone else tonight, Ramon said as he ushered Varnak out of the Great Hall with his handkerchief pressed to Varnak’s ear.

Varnak was trying to understand what had happened, but it just didn’t make any sense. His whole body tingled with energy. He remembered sending his words to control Cedric, but he didn’t know how. He was trying to comprehend what had transpired when he realized Ramon was leading him out of the Great Hall.

I’m sorry. I don’t know how it happened.

Don’t worry, but we must leave. Now, Ramon whispered to Varnak. I’ll take Varnak to my chambers so we can attend to his wound. Proceed with the contest, Ramon said to the Steward of the Contest as he and Varnak exited the Great Hall.

Chapter 2

The Damage is Done

Once they were through the doorway, the guards barred the way and motioned to the group of curious followers to return to their seats in the hall.

Lord Karseth was waiting in the hallway with his personal guard when Ramon and Varnak came through the door.

Follow me, Lord Karseth ordered.

They followed him into his chambers, closing the door behind them. Ramon began bandaging Varnak‘s ear.

Well, Varnak, it seems you’re more of a bard than we thought you were, Lord Karseth said with a smile.

Yes, Sire, but I don’t understand how.

Let me try to explain, Ramon said as he tied a bandage around Varnak‘s head. Somehow, you connected to the real power of the words—the power that’s under the surface of how people normally use words. I believe you must be of royal blood, or you wouldn’t have been able to do this. What’s most important now is to determine if you still have the power. In the past, there have been incidences when other royals have touched the true power for a moment, but it has never lasted.

We know one of Lord Mandrel’s trained agents was protecting Varnak when we took him. As I recall, she escaped under unusual circumstances. We suspected he was related to the monarch in some way. Certainly not a direct heir of Lord Mandrel, considering his age, but related somehow, perhaps even a grandson. This event confirms our suspicions, Lord Karseth added.

Took me from whom? Who is Lord Mandrel? Wait, are you saying I have royal blood in me? Why didn’t you tell me?

We weren’t sure, but now there can be no doubt. The ancient texts explain that only bards of royal blood had the ability to use the real power of words to manipulate the world around them. Since you have demonstrated this ability, you must be of royal blood. There is no other explanation for it. Now, we need to see if you truly have this ability or if it was just an anomaly, like the others. Varnak, what do you say? Do you really have this power, or were you just pretending?

How could I pretend to do this? I don’t even understand what I did.

Oh, I see. Now, you don’t know what happened? That’s a likely story, Ramon provoked.

Varnak could feel the anger tightening his chest, and he clinched his fists.

So, don’t you have anything to say? Just as I suspected, you were just trying to get attention. It was just a trick. You don’t have any powers at all, Ramon laughed.

Varnak could no longer contain himself. He began to sing a song of pain and sorrow toward Ramon.

The hidden sorrow of your heart, may it pull your soul apart. Causing pain in all your joints and terror at every point.

Immediately, Varnak’s song had a physical effect on Ramon. Ramon’s body twisted with pain, and he gasped for air.

Enough! Lord Karseth yelled.

The power of Lord Karseth’s voice momentarily distracted Varnak, and the pressure on Ramon faded away. Ramon fell to his knees, and Lord Karseth helped him up.

Well, it appears Varnak truly has the ability. Now, he needs to learn how to control it, Ramon said as he tried to rub the pain from his head.

I’m sorry, Varnak said, rushing to Ramon’s side, brushing the dust off his robes.

Be at peace. I provoked you on purpose. You’ve nothing to worry about.

That isn’t true, to be sure. Now that the Lords have seen what Varnak can do, there’s no telling what kind of danger he’s in, Lord Karseth said.

We’ll have to protect him, at least until he finishes his training. We’ll also need to convince everyone that it was all a hoax. I’ll plant the correct rumors throughout the court, and hopefully, that’ll convince most of the witnesses nothing supernatural happened.

That won’t be easy if he stays here. We need to take him someplace safe where he can finish his training without interruption, and everyone can forget about him.

Varnak didn’t like the sound of that at all. He didn’t want to be forgotten. He wanted to be remembered.

I’ve a brother who has a farm in the foothills of the Crystal Mountains. Varnak could finish his training there.

That’s a possibility, but someone may know you have a brother. We can’t risk sending Varnak to a place with any connection to the court. I’ve another place where I know he’ll be safe.

Why do I need to go somewhere to be safe? Isn’t it safe here? I don’t want to go anywhere, especially now that I am of royal blood. Why didn’t you tell me? Varnak yelled.

Silence filled the room.

Lord Karseth’s face turned red. You dare to raise your voice to question my will? I’m your Lord, and you serve me. Don’t ever forget that.

Lord Karseth’s words shocked Varnak. He could barely breathe. Lord Karseth had never spoken to him in this way. All his life, he’d believed Lord Karseth thought of him as his son, not as a servant.

Now that the nobles believe there is someone who has the skill of the ancient bards, they’ll do everything in their power to acquire it for themselves. They’ll surely try to abduct you, Ramon explained, ending the awkward silence.

We must take Varnak away tonight. I’ll arrange for an escort who won’t attract any attention, Lord Karseth said to Ramon. Go and pack Varnak’s belongings and bring them to the southern exit. Be sure no one follows you. We’ll meet you there in two turns of the glass.

As you wish, my Lord, Ramon said, and he left the room.

You may need to protect yourself with more than just your words. Take this blade and keep it on you until you get to your destination. Hopefully, you’ll not have to use it, but if you do, don’t hesitate.

Yes, Sire, Varnak answered, still stunned by Lord Karseth’s words.

You’ll need to have different clothes, as well. Those are far too bright for making an escape. Lord Karseth opened one of his wardrobes and removed a set of rough-spun traveling clothes. These were my favorite clothes as a young man. I always wore them when I went hunting. I think they should fit you. Go behind the screen and change.

Yes, Sire.

Varnak changed into the traveling clothes. The outer wool was a black, gray, and tan tweed. The cloak had a double layer of wool, and there were fur-lined gloves in the pockets. When Varnak came from behind the screen, Lord Karseth handed him a pair of knee-high riding boots with a pair of thick wool socks. Varnak sat down and pulled on the socks and boots. They were the best boots he had ever worn, but he hated them because they had been Lord Karseth’s.

There was a patterned knock on the door. Varnak reached for his sword. Lord Karseth signaled to Varnak to hold, and he opened the door. A servant, bearing a covered platter, entered the room and placed it on the table. He bowed and exited the room without a word.

I thought you might need some nourishment before you embarked on your journey, Lord Karseth said.

On the platter was a plate of dried meats and cheeses with a crusty round of bread.

Come. It may be a long time before you get a chance to eat again.

Varnak sat at the table and forced himself to eat. He remembered the stories his caregiver, Tierra, had told him about his birth. She had said Lord Karseth called him flesh of my flesh and an equal heir. He didn’t understand what had changed. He wanted to ask him. He wanted to understand. He wanted Lord Karseth, the only father he had ever known, to tell him everything was going to be all right. Varnak saw Lord Karseth’s outright callousness to his pain, and he concluded their relationship was just a lie.

While Varnak ate, Lord Karseth busied himself at his desk. When Varnak finished eating, Lord Karseth called for his personal servant and handed him a sealed envelope.

Give this to the Master Bard of the Guild, then direct the Steward to continue with the competition. Inform him that I won’t return because I must attend to an important matter.

As you command, the servant said, and he dashed from the room.

That’ll cause quite a commotion, Lord Karseth observed with a chuckle. I wager most of the nobles have already retired to their pavilions to plan how they might obtain the rights to you, legally or otherwise. Lord Karseth stood and walked over to Varnak. But we won’t let that happen. You’re too valuable for that.

These apparent kind words prompted Varnak to try one more time to change Lord Karseth’s mind. Lord Karseth, I don’t want to leave. I feel safe here, with you.

Lord Karseth slapped Varnak across the face and grabbed him by the collar. "You are my servant. I’ll do with you as I please. I will not tolerate any more disrespect." Then he pushed Varnak away.

Lord Karseth’s actions crushed Varnak. He wiped the tears from his eyes, and a look of cold defiance replaced the shock.

I’m… sorry. I trust you know what is best for me, Varnak lied.

After an awkward silence, Lord Karseth finally turned away and said, It’s time to go.

Lord Karseth walked to the fireplace and lit one of the torches that were in a bin by the firewood. He walked to the back of the chamber, pulled on one of the oak bookcases, and it swung open. He motioned for Varnak to follow him behind the case. The flickering torchlight revealed a narrow tunnel. He closed the case and led the way down the tunnel to a door. Lord Karseth removed a tarnished key from his cloak and unlocked it. The door swung open, allowing the cool night air to enter the tunnel.

He extinguished the torch in a barrel of water, and they stepped out into the moonlight. They walked down a narrow alley to a cobblestone street. Lord Karseth unsheathed his sword and peered around the corner. He made a whippoorwill sound and waited. Within moments, a responding whistle rang in the air. A horse-drawn wagon, driven by a lone, hooded figure, came out from an alley across the street. The clip-clop of the horse’s hooves filled the night. He scanned the street one last time and motioned for Varnak to follow him.

Hello, friend, Lord Karseth said.

It has been a long time, my Lord, a female voice said from under the hood.

Yes, it has been a long time. It’s most fortunate you were here for the competition. I thank you for doing this.

The person pulled her hood back. Varnak’s eyes widened when he saw who was in the wagon.

You must hurry. Varnak, do exactly as Tierra directs you, and all will go well.

Yes, my Lord, Varnak answered, and he climbed into the wagon.

If they find him, they’ll try to take him. I’m counting on you to not let that happen. He’s my most valuable possession.

He’ll be safe with me. I’ll protect him with my life.

Of that, I have no doubt, but I hope it doesn’t come to that. I’ll see you when it’s safe for Varnak to be moved. Peace be with you.

And also with you, Tierra said.

Now, Varnak understood the change in Lord Karseth. Even at his young age, he grasped the irony in it. Who would have thought that being more valuable would cause someone to love you less?

Chapter 3

Learning the Way of the Sword

Tierra clicked her tongue, flicked the reins, and the horse headed up the cobbled street. She watched Varnak out of the corner of her eye. She remembered the first time she had seen him.

We’ve found a baby on the sloop we captured. Lord Karseth ordered us to bring the child to you. You’re to care for him, the warrior said, then he whispered, Somehow the child’s guardian has escaped, so be on guard.

The warrior handed her the infant. She laid him on her bed. The other concubines gathered around to see what the warrior had given her. She uncovered the baby. They all gave a collective sigh of joy when they saw the child’s unique beauty, especially his silver eyes. An unexplainable, compelling desire to protect and possess the child filled Tierra’s mind. A few of the concubines were nursing babies of their own, and Tierra selected the most experienced to nurse this newborn as well.

I wonder what Lord Karseth will name him? the youngest concubine asked as she peered into the baby’s eyes.

Perhaps it’ll be something about his eyes, another answered.

The Maker will reveal to Lord Karseth what to name the child, Tierra said as she picked up the baby and gently rocked him.

On the thirty-first day of his life, Tierra dressed the child in silk and gold, and Lord Karseth presented him to the temple priests as prescribed by the Book of the Living.

Incense clouded the vaulted chamber. The sounds of delicate bells and cymbals echoed the prayers of prosperity for the baby boy.

Maker of all that is created reveal to us the name of this child. Impress it upon us, so your power will flow in him, the high priest prayed.

He struck a massive brass gong. Its deep, resonant sound filled the chamber, and all other sounds ceased. The silence was thick in the smoke-filled chamber. Lord Karseth raised the boy above his head and turned to the gathering of nobles and warriors.

Know this day, I take this child as my own, as an equal heir with the offspring of my loins. My blood is his, and his blood is mine, Lord Karseth declared. The Maker has revealed to me this child’s name. He is to be known as Varnak, the legendary, silver-eyed warrior, who overcame the infamous Horde of Canis.

The moment the people heard the name, a cheer rose from the crowd. Tierra’s heart filled with pride and happiness for the child.

It seems you have done well, Tierra said as the wagon clattered over the cobblestones.

I suppose that’s true, but I can’t take any credit for any of it. I just seem to be able to do these things, Varnak lied.

That’s rather humble of you. I’d have thought you’d be full of yourself by now, like the rest of Lord Karseth’s court.

Varnak didn’t understand how Tierra could be so critical of the court, nor did he understand her apparent bitterness. He wanted to ask her about it, but he knew he wouldn’t want to answer those questions if someone asked him.

If I may ask, where are we going?

I’m taking you to my home in the mountains. I haven’t been in Lord Karseth’s court for a long time. In fact, most of the nobles don’t even know I’m alive. It’s strange that I had such a strong urge to go to this competition. It has been years since I last attended one. Perhaps the Maker knew I needed to be there for you. Lord Karseth knows the other nobles will be watching everything Ramon does. He’s concerned someone might know Ramon has a brother and where he lives. So, he’ll send men to watch if someone is watching Ramon’s brother’s farm. When they’re sure it is safe, I’ll take you there.

Why doesn’t Ramon train me at your home?

Lord Karseth would never allow another man to live with me.

Why? Doesn’t he trust you?

It’s hard to explain. Perhaps when you’re older, you’ll be able to understand. Changing the subject, Tierra said, So, while we’re waiting, I’ll teach you how to protect yourself. You may even learn how to use that sword you have on your back.

Varnak smiled at that. Perhaps going away won’t be so bad after all.

After riding all night and most of the next day, Tierra reined the wagon to a stop in front of her unadorned log home. Varnak had tried to remember the trail they followed, so he could return to the castle if things didn’t go the way he wanted, but there had been too many turns and splits in the road on the path to Tierra’s home, nestled in the depths of the forest.

A tall young man waited in the clearing in front of the house when they came around the last bend.

Welcome home, the youth called.

It’s good to be back.

Tierra pulled the wagon to a stop.

Varnak, this is my son, Tern. Tern, this is Varnak.

Tern looked at Varnak and made a quick nod. Varnak nodded back. Varnak thought it was rude of Tern not to speak to him.

Help me unpack the wagon. Your room is in there, Tierra said, pointing to the barn.

Anger flared in Varnak’s mind. He certainly didn’t expect to have to sleep in a barn. After all, he had the true power of words. He didn’t expect to have servants, but this wasn’t acceptable. It was already cold in the setting sunlight, and it would get much colder. He tried to conceal his feelings as he jerked the bags from the back of the wagon, and his eyes narrowed with anger. Tern took his bags and ran ahead to the barn.

Is there a problem? Tierra asked.

No, Varnak lied, Lead the way.

Varnak followed Tierra into the barn. To his surprise, the barn was warm and clean. The smell of fresh hay reminded him of the well-maintained stables at the castle. A sturdy staircase at the back of the barn led up to a loft. Tierra led Varnak up the stairs, where Varnak was once again pleasantly surprised to find a plump feather bed, a newly made table, chair, wardrobe, and a wood-burning stove, clicking with heat. His bags were placed on a brightly colored rag rug by the bed.

This is where you’ll sleep. It’s your responsibility to keep it clean. You’ll also help maintain the barn. Tern will show you what needs to be done. Do you have any questions?

No, I understand.

Put your things away and wash up at the well in the courtyard, then come to the house. We’ll be eating soon.

Yes, ma’am.

Once again, anger rose in Varnak’s mind, and he turned away, his fists clenched. He didn’t like having a woman telling him what to do, and he didn’t like the way her son looked at him. He took a few deep breaths to calm himself.

After placing his things in the wardrobe, he hid his sword and a bag of coins under the mattress. He walked down the stairs, out of the barn toward the well, and began to wash. He had just splashed water on his face when Tern called to him, Hey, you need to close the barn doors, or the animals will get out.

Don’t tell me what to do.

All right, but you’ll have to find the lost animals. I was just trying to help you.

I don’t need your help.

Tern shook his head and walked toward the house. Varnak wanted Tern to answer. He wanted to fight. Over the last few years, Varnak frequently found himself wanting to fight. He wanted to prove he was right. After closing the barn door, he walked toward the house, expecting to be in trouble with Tierra, but when he entered the house, she just pointed to a chair at the table.

The mouth-watering smell of fresh-baked bread and roasted meat distracted Varnak from his anger. Tierra brought a tray covered with thin slices of meat and vegetables to the table. Tern brought the bread and sat down opposite Varnak. She picked up the tray of meat and gave a large serving to Varnak and Tern. Tern cut a large chunk off the loaf of bread and handed the tray to Varnak. Tierra sat down and took a bite of the meat. Varnak ate a piece of meat and tore a piece of bread from his chunk and dipped it into the juice of the meat. It was spicy and hot. The three ate in silence.

Varnak looked around the spartanly furnished cabin. The stout logs of the walls were well caulked with fresh white clay. At the rear of the comfortable common room was a massive stone fireplace with a crackling fire. To Varnak’s left, a rough-hewn staircase disappeared through the heavy beams of the ceiling. The most unusual feature of Tierra’s home was the windows. Across the front of the room were four of the largest windows Varnak had ever seen. The quality of the glass was far superior to any of the windows at Lord Karseth’s castle.

After a few moments, Varnak decided Tierra was not going to trouble him about what had happened, so he relaxed and enjoyed the food in silence. Tern cleared the dishes from the table and brought a tray of hot tea from the fireplace. They drank their tea in silence as well. Varnak thought Tierra was not talking because she was angry with him.

You do well in the silence. Most people try to fill the quiet with their voices. You didn’t. Why? Tierra asked.

The less I say, the less I get in trouble.

That’s wise of you, Tierra said with a chuckle as she gathered the cups. It’s time to go to sleep. Tomorrow will come early.

Then, with your permission, I’ll take my leave.

Yes, we’ll wake you in the morning.

Yes, ma’am. Good night.

Varnak walked out of the house into the pine-scented, cold night air. Ironically, now, he was glad he wasn’t sleeping in the house. In the barn, he could get away from Tierra and her bothersome son. He entered the barn and thought about leaving the door open just to spite Tern, but he secured the door. If the animals did get out, he didn’t want to give Tern the satisfaction of saying he was right. Varnak made his way up the stairs, took off his clothes, propped his sword against the headboard, and got into bed. To his surprise, it was the most comfortable bed he had ever slept in. He fell asleep within moments in its warmth and comfort.

The next morning, the scrape of the barn door lever called Varnak from his dreams. He slipped from his bed and crept to the edge of the loft to peer into the darkness of the silent barn. Tern walked to the first stall and reached for the lantern. Varnak returned to his bed and put on his clothes. As he pulled on his boots, light filled the barn below. He started down the stairs as Tern was just coming up to wake him.

You’re awake. That’s good. Here’s a pail for milking the cow. Do you know how to milk a cow?

No, but how hard can it be?

I’ll show you. If you do it wrong, you can hurt the cow.

Lead on then, Master!

With a look of pity, Tern led Varnak to the stall that held the cow. He showed Varnak how to squeeze the udders in a top-to-bottom motion and how to determine when to stop milking. As with everything Varnak attempted, he did it well from the start. Varnak saw his success irritated Tern.

There. Is that right? Varnak asked as he handed Tern the full pail of milk.

Yes.

They cleaned out the stalls and fed the animals together. As the sun came up, they headed toward the house to eat breakfast. Varnak’s stomach growled at the smell of bacon frying. Once again, Varnak waited for his hosts to eat first. He was also careful not to take more than they did. He had learned in the castle never to assume the right to do anything. Varnak didn’t like deferring to others, but it kept him from getting in trouble.

As he ate, Varnak watched Tierra and Tern enjoying their food. He envied their relationship and ease with each other. The sadness of never knowing his mother filled his heart once again. He tried to hold back the tears as he took a bite of the warm biscuit and butter. He wiped his mouth with his napkin and dried his eyes in the same movement.

The two boys cleared the table and helped Tierra wash the dishes. Varnak wondered why Tierra didn’t have servants. He remembered she was a person of great importance when he was young.

When they had finished, they stepped out into the faint sunlight of the early morning.

May I ask you a question? Varnak asked.

Of course. What is it?

Why don’t you have any servants?

At first, I did, but I learned it was easier to maintain my privacy if I didn’t have any servants because I couldn’t trust them. I didn’t want people to know where I was or what I was doing. Having servants just compromised all of that, Tierra answered as she walked down the steps of the porch to the dew-covered grass.

I understand the value of privacy. I’ve never really had any.

Well, you’ll have some here. Perhaps that’s a gift I can give you that you would’ve never gotten at the castle. But you know trust can be broken in a second and can take years to mend.

Yes, I know, Varnak answered, knowing he didn’t trust anyone, and he’d already learned how to manipulate other people into trusting him.

So, we’ll begin your training. Are you ready?

Yes! Varnak answered with excitement.

Follow me.

Tierra started to jog down the trail and gestured to Varnak to follow her. He was soon sweating and wondering if she was ever going to stop. After running a few leagues, Tierra stopped by a small creek. When Varnak caught up, he almost fell into the water, trying to get a drink.

After resting for a moment to catch his breath, Varnak asked, I thought you were going to teach me to be a warrior?

I am. You need to be strong and have great endurance to be a successful warrior. Battles don’t last for just a few moments, and your enemy won’t wait for you to catch your breath.

That makes sense, Varnak said, as if he needed to approve of what Tierra was doing.

In the days that followed, he learned many things that, at first, seemed foolish to him, but eventually made sense. By the end of the third day, he hurt everywhere, but he was starting to learn how to control his body. By the end of the fourth week, Varnak knew he would be a great warrior. By the end of the sixth month, he could make his body do things he had never imagined. All the exercise and hard work had helped develop his rapidly changing body, but he could feel that something unnatural was happening to him. Frequently, he noticed the look of concern on Tierra’s face at his astonishing physical transformation, and he noticed Tern’s growing fear of him.

Chapter 4

The Warrior is Made

A hooded assailant crept up the stairs toward Varnek’s bed. Pale moonlight speared through the one small window in the loft, cutting an edge of brightness on the wooden floor. As the assailant moved across the loft, the moonlight reflected off a silver blade in the figure’s hand. Varnak jumped down from his hiding place in the rafters, knocking the person to the ground. The intruder rolled over, and Varnak pointed his sword at her neck.

Well done, Varnak, the intruder said as she pushed back her hood.

Tierra, I could’ve killed you.

I knew you wouldn’t hurt me. You knew it was me, didn’t you?

Yes, I knew it was you. I’m not sure how, but I did, Varnak admitted.

You’re learning fast. Tomorrow, I’ll begin teaching you how to use that sword of yours.

Tierra stood and left Varnak alone in the silence of the barn. Varnak sat on the bed. He liked this part of the night best—the time when the world was quiet before the dawn. As he lay back, he imagined himself slaying many enemy warriors and returning triumphantly to cheering crowds.

I’ll be the best swordsman in the world, he said to himself in the darkness.

Yes, you will. There is no doubt, he responded.

The next day, Tierra was waiting in the courtyard when Varnak came out of the barn to go to breakfast.

Here, take this, Tierra said as she threw him a wooden sword. Defend yourself.

She attacked with an oaken sword of her own. The golden-brown blade flashed around her like a whirlwind. Varnak barely deflected the first strike. Then the sword hit him from all directions, as if three Tierras were attacking him.

Tierra stepped back and said, I see you have a lot to learn. Now, I know where to start.

Varnak didn’t hear her.

The pain from the twenty places her sword had hit him had stolen his attention. After the pain subsided, Tierra motioned for Varnak to put his sword down, and she began teaching him the correct footwork.

The foundation of a great sword technique is to have fast and effective feet. I’ll teach you the five basic stances and the way you should move your feet from each of these stances. These steps must become second nature to you. In a swordfight, you don’t have time to think about what your feet are doing.

Varnak nodded his understanding.

Tierra taught, and Varnak listened, dedicating himself to being the best. Then he practiced, over and over, all the things Tierra had taught him. Within a few weeks, he had learned all the steps and stances, and he was able to transition from one form to the next with grace and fluidity.

You have to drop your sword tip to deflect an attack toward your legs. Now step back and do it again, Tierra said as the sweat dripped from her brow.

She and Varnak had been working on defensive techniques all day in the barn, protected from the cold of the storm raging outside. The well-fed wood stove and their exertion had combined to make the barn almost too warm.

When are you going to teach me how to attack? Varnak asked as he stepped back and prepared for Tierra’s next assault. In truth, he had learned all the defensive techniques Tierra knew, and he was better at executing them than she was.

It’ll be soon. The right time will reveal itself, she answered as she pivoted on her left foot and swung her single-edged sword in a flashing arc at Varnak’s head. His feet and hands reacted by stepping back and dropping into the Folded Fan Technique. Tierra’s sword flew over his head. However, this time, instead of just rolling away from his attacker, Varnak’s body sprang forward, and his sword swung up in a tight arc toward Tierra’s unprotected stomach. She was just able to parry the counterattack. It all happened in a flash.

I’m sorry, Tierra. Are you hurt?

Be at peace, Varnak. I was expecting this, but I must admit, you are much better than I thought you would be. That attack would have killed most of the swordsmen I know.

One day, late in the summer, when the sun was high in the sky, Tierra and Varnak were sparring in the courtyard, practicing moving from one technique to the next. Halfway through the session, Varnak began adapting the techniques to his own style. Tierra could no longer defend herself against him.

You’ve learned well, Varnak. I’ve nothing left to teach you.

Thank you, Tierra, for what you have given me. Now, no one will be able to take advantage of me.

I’m not sure that’s true, but you’re welcome, nonetheless. It’s time to clean up. Tern has brought us pheasants from his morning hunt, and they’ll be ready within a turn of the glass. See to your chores and then come to the house.

Yes, ma’am, Varnak answered as he always did. Varnak watched Tierra walk up the steps of the house.

As he walked to the loft, he thought it was fortunate for Tierra that he was a good person, or he wouldn’t put up with her telling him what to do now that he could defeat her.

Chapter 5

On to Being a Bard

One brisk morning, a group of horsemen galloped around the bend into the clearing between the house and the barn.

Well met, Tierra called to the riders as she walked toward them.

The riders dismounted. The lead rider pulled the hood of his cloak back. To Varnak’s surprise, it was Lord Karseth.

Seeing who it was, he immediately kneeled before him. All the anger Varnak had for Lord Karseth came rushing back.

Well, Tierra, how’s our young apprentice? Lord Karseth asked as he took off his riding gloves.

He’s doing well, my Lord. Come and see.

I can’t believe how much you have grown, Lord Karseth said as he grasped Varnak’s shoulder. You’re as big as a grown man.

Yes, Sire, Varnak said. He wanted to push Lord Karseth’s hands off him and smash his face with his fists.

How have you grown so much?

I don’t know, Sire.

Perhaps it has to do with his royal blood, Tierra suggested.

You could be right. I remember hearing the tales of the kings of the Neferians—how they were giants compared to the rest of their people. The legends say the kings of Neferia matured quickly, so they could protect themselves from others who would harm them.

He hasn’t only grown, but he has become quite skilled with the sword you gave him, Tierra added.

Is that so? Let us see this skill, Lord Karseth said, moving away from Varnak and unsheathing his sword. Defend yourself.

Lord Karseth lifted his two-handed longsword over his head in the classic cavalry style. Varnak froze. He didn’t want to be disobedient to Lord Karseth, but he was afraid to fight him, not because he feared Lord Karseth, but because he feared he would kill him.

Boy, you’d better arm yourself, or you may lose an ear.

Go ahead, Varnak. Defend yourself, Tierra encouraged.

Varnak unsheathed his sword and dropped into a defensive stance. Lord Karseth swung his massive sword in a wide arc at an angle from left to