Guardian of Kelvia: Tribes of Chalent Book 2

By Judy Lynn

Tribes of Chalent
Book 2

Five years after helping to bring peace to its southern neighbors, Kelvia faces its own struggles. With the death of their chief imminent, Kelvians must choose who will lead them until Chief Tyndall's son is of age.

Tara has always been loyal to Tyndall and to Kelvia. She never sought leadership. She questions why her men

• Language: English
• Publisher: Infinitely Wandering Books LLC
• Release date: Jul 1, 2022
• ISBN: 9798986059839

Judy Lynn

Writing stories has always been a favorite pastime. Writing novels has always been a dream, which has now come to fruition. My favorite place to write is near the ocean in Northern California or in the middle of the woods. Nature calls to me and I love combining my love for it and my love for writing into the same pastime. Currently, I live in Northern California where I am the Circulation and Technical Services Manager for the library of a small college. I'm not fond of the city, but if you must live in one, this is perfectly situated halfway between the mountains and the ocean.Three boys keep me busy, so finding time to write can be a challenge, but it's all worth it.

Book preview

CHAPTER 1

8th of 12th Lunar, 526 AC

Central Garrison, Kelvia

A hand rested on Tara’s head and, from far away, a voice called her name. It was old and sickly, yet familiar.

I can’t answer you, she screamed in her head. Lenet won’t let me!

Tara, wake up, the voice said. The slurring of his speech was more pronounced the louder he tried to speak. He shook her slightly.

Tara bolted upright in her chair and took a deep breath. Scanning the room, she realized there was no danger. Lenet was dead. He had been for nearly five years. He could not hurt her anymore, nor could he expose her secrets. The vivid images of her nightmare faded as she fully entered the waking world. The current crisis had nothing to do with Lenet.

You haven’t projected like that in a year or more, the old voice muttered from the bed beside the chair Tara had been sleeping in.

Her mentor’s room was sparse. It had been that way since Tyndall’s first wife had died many years before. The large bed, next to which sat Tara’s chair, a bureau, and a double-sized wardrobe seemed to be all his second wife wanted. Even half the wardrobe had stood empty for the past several months.

Sorry, Chief. Tara straightened her tunic and vest, brushing her black hair away from her face.

I think the last time you shared your dreams with me was when Tyree was sick, Tyndall spoke with labored breath.

A recent stroke had confined this once great Chief of the Kelvian Tribe to his bed. One side of his mouth refused to cooperate, slurring his words. In fact, the entire left side of his body was useless, and the right side was weak. Tyndall needed rest, not to experience her nightmares.

I know. The nightmares only come when I’m troubled. While her nightmares were real memories, replaying in her dreams, those memories had nothing to do with the present circumstances.

The previous year, her dearest friend had been ill. That was the last time she had involuntarily projected to those closest to her. This time, something far more serious troubled her. Chief Tyndall, her mentor and the closest she had ever come to having a father, lay completely immobilized. He wasn’t yet sixty years old, but the stress of a lifetime of fighting had finally caught up with him.

The physician had explained that stroke victims were sometimes trapped in their own bodies, unable to do anything for themselves, and sometimes victims died shortly after. Yet, in many cases, people could recover from a stroke if given enough time and assistance. Unfortunately, Tyndall had little of either at the moment. No doubt word had spread of his weakened state. And no doubt there were those who would seek to take advantage and attempt to seize control of Kelvia.

I have an heir now. You need to stop worrying about this old man. Tyndall tugged her thick, black braid with a trembling hand, an affectionate gesture no one else would ever witness. It’ll turn that beautiful hair gray.

I’m only twenty-two. I’ve got a few more years before that. Tara squeezed his hand and forced a smile, trying unsuccessfully to hide her fears. His pale hand looked so fragile, even in her small, light brown one. And your heir is only a few days old. The tribe needs you for another twenty years.

Tyndall’s bedroom door burst open, and Tyree ran in. Voices from the corridor yelled for him to stop and a guard followed right behind.

Sorry, sir, the guard addressed Tyndall. I told him no one was to come in unless you sent for them, but he got past me. The warrior grabbed Tyree’s arm and tugged him toward the doorway.

Tyree pulled free and shoved the guard, face first against the wall. I know you’re trying to do your job, but touch me again, and I’ll break your nose, he warned. "I told you, Tara did call me." He released the infuriated guard.

Impossible. I’d have heard her. He straightened his stance, glancing at Tara, then back to Tyree.

Have you had experience with a powerful voyant? Tyree asked.

When the man looked at Tyree without understanding, Tara lifted a hand. It’s all right. I did call him. She had not intended to, but when she had nightmares, they often projected all the way to his room.

The guard huffed and closed the door as he left.

Sorry, Tara said. I guess I was projecting in my sleep.

"I know. It’s the only time I see that man’s face. It’s been a while. Tyree leaned on the back of Tara’s chair, studying his friend. You look worn out."

She rubbed her eyes. It’s the first time I’ve slept in two days, and all I can do is have nightmares.

You need to go to bed, Tyndall muttered.

I’m not going anywhere, Tara said. I can sleep right here. She patted the bed where she could lay her head as she slept in the chair.

There was more to staying by Tyndall’s side than just being near him. When those who sought to take advantage of his weakened state made their move, she wanted to be in a position where she could warn him and those loyal to him. She would sense the threat coming long before the guards saw or heard them. That was, after all, one of her jobs as his Grand Voyant.

Your room is just down the corridor. You can sense anyone nearby as easily from there as from here. Tyree had been the first person to suggest Tyndall’s life was in danger from more than the aftereffects of the stroke.

And you’ll sleep better in your own bed, Tyndall pointed out. When Tara made no move to go, Tyndall said to Tyree, Make the child go to bed, please. He was the only one who could get away with calling Tara a child. Others had tried, due to her size, and they always got an earful of some very adult language.

Yes, sir, Tyree replied formally, taking Tara’s hand, and trying to pull her up from the chair. When she resisted, he took a step back and crossed his arms. I could throw you over my shoulder and carry you, kicking and screaming down the corridor if you prefer.

Tara narrowed her eyes. You wouldn’t.

He had the physical strength to do it. Tara was barely five feet tall with a slender build. Tyree was lean and well built, with years of physical training to harden both muscles and resolve.

She sensed a shift in his emotions and knew the moment Tyree decided that was exactly what he would do.

Fine. She relented and squeezed the chief’s hand. I’ll be back first thing in the morning.

Not until after breakfast, Tyndall said with all the force he could muster.

Tyree walked with Tara down the corridor of the living quarters. The main building of the garrison was huge. The ground floor held the Great Hall, several rooms for visitors’ quarters, and the kitchen and dining hall. This section was reserved for the chief and those closest to him. On the upper two floors were quarters for the warriors with families and the garrison’s domestic staff.

Tyree followed Tara into her room. She didn’t offer an invitation, but as close as the two were, it went without saying he was always welcome. After the nightmare she’d had, she was grateful for the company. Sometimes the images were too much to shake. The fierce scowl, the bruises, the scarf around her neck, the threats she knew Lenet would have carried out given the chance.

I’ve got to stop visiting like this, Tyree joked, sitting on the couch. People are going to talk.

Tara laughed. People had been talking for some time. She had still been an adolescent when the gossip started. She unwound her braid, brushed out her hair, and re-braided it. I’m not a child anymore, she reminded him. If I want to invite a man into my room, it’s no one else’s business.

You were easier to deal with when you were a child. Tyree laughed as she sat beside him. "At least then, some people believed I was treating you like a little sister."

You mean they don’t now? she asked with mock innocence, never having cared what anyone said about their friendship. People’s assumptions were wrong, but nothing either of them said would be believed.

Tara curled up next to him, sighing deeply.

It’s not right for Lenet to still torment you, Tyree put an arm around her shoulders.

Umm-hmm. She was almost asleep on the couch, leaning against him. Exhausted from sitting with Tyndall, she had not even made the effort to pull off her boots. Not having stoked the fire, she appreciated the body heat he radiated, even through his clothing.

Tyree laid his head back. People are going to talk.

Umm-hmm. Tara didn’t open her eyes. Won’t be the first time. Though she didn’t give a drop of graebig dung about appearances, in practice she held on to morality as rigidly as an Acoran, but even if she didn’t, she had no fear that Tyree would ever take advantage of her.

***

Everyone will know what I know.

Tara sat up and looked around. She didn’t know how long she’d slept, but it had been too long. She shook Tyree’s shoulder. They're coming! She sprinted through the door.

Who is it? Tyree was right behind her.

I can’t tell who’s leading them, but there’s too many to count, she said. They’re not in the garrison yet. Voyant abilities allowed her to read the emotions of people nearby. While she was strong enough to use those emotions to sense people she knew, Tara could not find the specific presence she expected to be accompanying the enemy force.

The pair ran down the corridor, past the guard, and burst into Tyndall’s room.

Commander Hathon looked up from the parchment he had been writing on. It’s about time. My men saw them coming five minutes ago.

I was asleep, Tara said. She should never have left Tyndall’s room.

Sure, you were. Hathon glanced at Tyree, saying nothing more. He placed the paper against a hard book and held it up to Tyndall. I hope you’re sure about this, Chief.

Tyndall signed the document and waved it at Tara. Take this. His forceful tone more than made up for the lack of volume.

We have to move you. Tara took the paper but didn’t read it. You can’t stay here.

No, Tyndall said. I won’t run. His breathing became more labored than before. Read the paper.

You have to go! Tara insisted, looking at Hathon. They’re at the front and eastern gates. Call men to move him before they secure the other two. We’ll find a place outside the garrison until he’s well enough to fight. She had no place to give orders, even less so to the garrison commander, but desperation made her press.

Read the paper, girl, Hathon ordered.

Seeing she was not convincing either man to move, Tara looked at the paper in her hand.

I, Tyndall, Chief of Kelvia, declare Tara, loyal Kelvian Grand Voyant, to be Guardian over my son Volas, in the event of my death. As his guardian, she is hereby given the position of Chief Guardian until Volas is of age to ascend to the chief’s seat.

Tyndall’s signature was shakier than usual, but it was legible.

Messages will be sent to each tribe. No one will stand against you in the Council. He looked even more distressed and helpless than he had over the past two days.

Tara opened her mouth to say something, but words eluded her. Behind her, Tyree read over her shoulder, gasping at the content of the declaration.

You can’t be serious, Tara finally managed to say. She leaned close to her mentor. I can’t act as Chief for twenty years.

We don’t have time to discuss it. Tyndall struggled to push himself up but fell back on the pillows.

Hathon propped the pillows under him.

Tara’s throat tightened at the heartbreaking scene. Tyndall intended this to be the last order he ever gave, and he needed help just to sit up.

Kelvia has never been led by a woman. If it is to happen, it should be Vastele. Tara could no longer put any force into her words.

Vastele is neither Kelvian nor a warrior, Hathon said.

How can you support this? Tara held up the paper and gawked at the commander.

You need to go. Hathon did not answer her question. She sensed he didn’t want to support it and wasn’t sure if he should support it. But honor and loyalty to Tyndall required him to support it.

You know where Vastele is hiding Volas. Get to them. Keep them safe. Tyndall ran his finger affectionately along the battle scar Tara bore on her face. I know you can do this, Tara. Like it or not, it’s in your blood. Go to Acora until Equin. Lady Maleen will help you at the Chiefs’ Council. Tyndall lay back on his pillow, his breath ragged.

No! Tara’s chest tightened. How could he ask this of her? We are Kelvian. We cannot go to the Acorans. Maleen would certainly help, but we cannot show weakness by accepting it.

Lady Maleen owes us, Hathon reminded Tara. Especially the two of you. There is no weakness in collecting a debt.

It was true. Maleen did owe Kelvia in general and Tyree and Tara specifically, but in a situation like this, the debt would not matter. As a woman of honor, if Maleen believed they were right, she would help. If she thought they were wrong, she would not—regardless of any debt owed.

I won’t leave without Tyndall. Tara owed him more than she could ever hope to repay. She could not leave him to be killed by traitors while she fled to her Acoran friend to hide.

You must. Tyndall put a hand on her shoulder. Go now. That’s an order! His push was feeble, but his message was clear.

I can’t! Tara cried. She had never disobeyed an order from her chief or the commander, but they asked too much of her. Just the thought of carrying on without Tyndall sent her into a panic.

Commander, Tyndall said. Give her the proof she’ll need.

Commander Hathon went to the wardrobe where Tyndall’s vest had hung since he had been bedridden. Jerking his knife from its sheath, he cut the family crest out of the fabric.

The sound the knife made slicing through the thick cloth made Tara’s skin crawl.

Take this. You’ll need it as proof. Hathon thrust the patch at her.

No! Tara recoiled. The patch meant so much more than proof of the declaration she held in her hand. Only a family member could wear Tyndall’s crest.

Your chief gave you an order. We don’t have time to argue. Hathon put the patch in her pocket and looked at Tyree. Drag her out of here if you have to.

When Tyree reached for Tara’s arm, her first instinct was to pull away from him. They had a duty to their chief…but the chief had given her an order. She could not begin to fathom how Tyndall could have enough faith in her to give her this responsibility, but he did. He expected his order—his last order—to be followed.

With tears streaming down her face, Tara relented. She folded the declaration from Tyndall, placing it in her pocket alongside the patch. It broke her heart to walk out of that room, but she wanted Tyndall to see her strong. It took every bit of willpower not to turn around and give him one last goodbye, or to make one last plea.

Outside the room, she broke into a run. The corridor had never seemed so long. She ran past the private quarters. Past the Great Hall. Past the kitchen. And out into the cold outdoors.

The enemy was in the garrison. It would not be long before they entered the main building. Too many men to count with her voyancey. Two more warriors would not save Tyndall. If she stayed, so would Tyree, and they’d both die. Vastele and Volas would be vulnerable.

Leading the way through the snow in the predawn light to the stable, her whole body shook, torn between loyalties. Torn between her duty to follow orders and her duty to protect her beloved chief.

The stable was on the edge of the garrison, near the front gate. Tara and Tyree dodged lamplight, ducking into the shadows. Tara winced when she sensed a warrior go down. The emotions of the victor identified him as a traitor. In another fight, a well-matched pair faced off, neither sure of his strength. She knew the loyal fighter in that match. She resisted the urge to run to him and help him. Instead, she sprinted the last few yards to the stable, unseen. Tyree was right behind her.

Someone had already saddled a graebig beast for them. Tyree mounted the six-foot-tall, broad animal. She hesitated to take the hand he offered, looking back toward the building.

Tara, Tyree said softly, there’s nothing we can do for him. Dying with him only leaves Volas and his mother unprotected. Volas is the only living relative Tyndall will claim, except Kayla. If he’s lost, she’s in charge. The parchment in your pocket gives you the right to stop her claim.

At the sound of shouting and clashing staffs, she reached up for Tyree’s hand and mounted. Grabbing the reins, she kicked the hairy, gray flanks and steered the graebig out of the stable and into the dawn.

Head to the east gate, Tyree shouted over the large, padded feet crunching the fresh snow.

Tara sped through the length of the garrison, nearly running down several people she sensed were traitors. Approaching the small gate, Tara reached out to read the emotions of those guarding it. Her voyancey showed their treason, hate, and greed. She didn’t recognize the men. Likely the regular guards she would have known were dead. The men stood inside the gate, obstructing it from anyone who sought to flee from the growing battle. Instead of slowing, Tara urged the graebig faster. The gate had been broken from its hinges only minutes before, when the throng of intruders had forced their way into the garrison. The guards jumped out of the way when they realized at the last moment that Tara had no intention of stopping.

As expected, the thundering of another mount indicated someone behind them. There was only one pursuer so far.

Friendly? Tyree asked.

Not in the least, Tara warned.

The pursuer had a faster graebig, and with only a single rider, he was closing the distance. An arrow flew by them, narrowly missing. The other graebig came alongside them. Tyree shifted behind her, carefully swinging one leg to the other side of the graebig.

What are you doing? Tara shouted.

My job, Tyree answered. Don’t stop for anything! He leapt from the back of the graebig, launching himself into the rider on the mount next to them.

Tara was tempted to ignore Tyree’s instruction but sensed several more pursuers who would catch up if she slowed even a little. Follow orders and protect a newborn? Or stop and help her best friend who had saved her life on more than one occasion? Tara continued on, determined to do her duty.

She sensed a flash of triumph from Tyree and a jolt of fear from the other man. Tyree had done his duty as well, and the sounds of the other graebig fell farther and farther behind. Tyree would know where to find her when the fight was over. She tried to push away the thought that he might be dead by then, but the possibility was a thorn that would not leave her mind.

Tara rode hard. Her tears added to the cold of the icy wind on her face. The sun rose but brought little warmth in the winter air. She directed the graebig along the windy path leading east, then north. The trees grew thicker and the settlements more sparse. The farther into the mountains she went, the steeper the path became. The long ride gave Tara plenty of time to worry. And to grieve. Tyndall had taken her in when she was only a child. It would have been so easy for him to have turned her away. There were certainly enough people who thought he should have. Instead, he’d given her a home. Given her a life. The thought of going on without him brought on a fresh bout of tears. There was little chance he’d survived the onslaught on the garrison. Tyree may have made it. He was strong. She clung to the little bit of hope that he would be by her side when she took on the responsibility Tyndall had saddled her with. She needed him, not just as her bodyguard, but as her friend.

Tara galloped until her graebig refused to run anymore. She continued to push it as fast as it would walk all day. The slower pace only gave her more time to worry.

Though Tyree was three years older than Tara, she had bonded with him in a way only a strong voyant could. Not caring what others thought, Tara had selected Tyree as a bodyguard when Tyndall insisted she choose one from among the warriors she trusted. It had only added fuel to the rumor fires. Her dependence on him when she became Chief Guardian would add even more. If he survived, people would be expecting a wedding announcement that neither of them intended to give.

Hours later, the sun set. Her graebig made its way slowly to the northeastern corner of Kelvia.

Someone was still behind her. Several people. They were a few miles behind but on her trail. Tara could sense their presence, but they were too far away for her to tell who they were or their intentions. She desperately hoped it was Tyree and others loyal to Tyndall, but until she knew, she had to use caution. Tyree would know where to find her when she retrieved Vastele. She did not need to leave a trail for him. Leaving the main road, Tara tried to persuade her graebig to walk in the creek to help hide its tracks, but lowing loudly, it objected to the icy water.

Stupid animal, she thought, looking back at the noticeable footprints in the snow. Finally, tired of being pushed, the graebig refused to move. Tara dismounted, resisting the urge to kick the two-and-a-half-ton monstrosity, though she supposed it was better than a mount that would run itself to death, which sometimes happened.

She had not been able to take the time to gather any supplies. It would help her travel faster on foot, but she had been riding all day and had no food, no water, and only a cloth cloak.

Two more miles, she told herself, pulling her foot from an unexpected snowdrift and wrapping her cloak and voyant scarf for what little warmth they could provide.

***

An hour later, Tara stumbled into a small village. Villagers were startled to see a fatigued young woman, underdressed for the weather, stagger into the center of their village. A kind old man took her hands as she tried to draw water from the well with frozen fingers.

My boy will do that, he said quietly. You need to sit by the fire.

Exhausted and cold, Tara did not resist when he led her into a hut. Stepping over the threshold of the small hut, the sudden warm air hit Tara as hard as if someone had punched her. She collapsed from exhaustion, dehydration, and cold.

CHAPTER 2

Vastele, Tara mumbled as she woke up. I need to find Vastele. She sat up carefully. She was in a room with four beds. It smelled lightly of herbs and a cleaning solution. A fireplace both warmed and lit the room.

You need to eat something warm, a man with a kind voice said as he sat on the edge of the bed. Around his waist, he wore a healer’s sash. In one hand he held a mug of hot soup, in the other, a spoon he brought to her lips.

Tara pushed away his hand. I don’t have time.

We saw your scarf, the man said, referring to the green scarf identifying her as a Grand Voyant for the Kelvian leadership. We can guess why you’re here, but we’re a bit surprised you came alone and in such a condition. He held the spoon to Tara’s lips again.

Tara refused it again. Where is Vastele? We need to go.

A tall figure stood in the doorway, silhouetted by the light in the room behind her. I’m not going anywhere in the middle of the night with a girl who can barely stand. Vastele stepped into the room. She was slightly older than Tara, but much taller and with blond hair and fair skin. She wore a sour expression. Eat something first, then we’ll talk.

We have to go, now! Tara insisted.

What are you talking about? Vastele said, roughly. My husband sent me away months ago. In all that time, he’s visited twice. Now he can’t wait a few more hours to see his son?

Tyndall’s dead! Tara blurted out.

After an initial gasp, Vastele stood still, not saying anything for a moment.

Tara realized she should have been more delicate about the announcement. Not wanting to make Tyndall’s condition widely known, they had not sent a messenger with news of his stroke. Vastele would have no idea that Chief Tyndall had not been in perfect health. A little gentler, Tara explained about his condition, then about the attack on the garrison and the orders for her and Tyree to come here.

And you left him? Vastele said without emotion. Tyndall depends on every warrior he has loyal to him, but you and Tyree left?

He ordered us to take you somewhere safe. Tara’s voice wavered. Two more warriors would not have made a difference.

Where am I supposed to go? Vastele asked quietly, staring at her hands.

I’ll tell you on the way. Tara stood up and promptly fell back on the bed when her legs would not hold her.

You’ll eat something first. Her host pushed the mug of soup into her hands. What was Tyndall thinking, sending such a small girl to defend his wife and child? He clicked his tongue.

This ‘small girl’ has held her own in every Equin tournament since she was old enough to compete, Vastele acknowledged. I hold no admiration for Lady Warriors, but I do understand what this one can do. Never mind her size.

And he didn’t send me alone. Tara wiped a tear, hating not being able to hold it back. I don’t know if Tyree is alive, but he did what he had to do so I could get here.

I’m sorry. Vastele cleared her throat. Did you two ever get married?

No. Tara drank the warm broth, its heat warming her from the inside. She was grateful the old healer had insisted. Our relationship isn’t like that.

So you’ve tried to convince everyone. Vastele turned to leave. I’ll get Volas ready. They can show you to my hut when you have the healer’s approval to go back out in the cold. We’re not leaving before then. She walked out.

Months in near isolation hadn’t changed Vastele. Bossy as ever, she expected her word to be final. A chief’s daughter—and another chief’s wife—through and through.

Tara stared at the steam rising from her mug. The scent of poultry broth both soothed and warmed her, but she didn’t have time to be comfortable.

The healer shook his head. She showed more sorrow for your companion than her own husband’s death.

Arranged marriages will do that to a person. She took another sip from her mug. Since Tara had no father to arrange one for her, Tyndall had suggested several possible suitors in her late adolescence, including Tyree, but he’d known his ward would never have consented if he’d tried to force the issue. Tara had a difficult time understanding Vastele’s willingness to leave everything she knew back in Simot to marry a stranger, but such was the way of things in Simot and, too often, in Kelvia.

***

I’d still feel better about it if you’d wait until daylight, the healer said as he and Vastele helped Tara pack provisions. This time, Tara had proper wear for the winter weather–fur chaps and boots, a thick cloak, knit hat, and leather gloves. Vastele had an additional fur around her. Tara hoped it would be sufficient to keep the baby warm.

We can’t wait, Tara said. Unless it snows, when daylight hits, they’ll be able to see where my tracks left the main road. We must be gone by then. I can’t tell you where. You need to be able to answer honestly if a voyant questions you.

You use a dart blower? He offered a pouch with the hollow reed, blow darts, and thessel leaves.

Yes, fairly accurately. Tara placed it over her shoulder, wanting it more accessible than in her pack. What I really need is a staff, about a foot shorter than normal.

The healer nodded and went out, returning minutes later with the requested piece of wood. The village instructor allows the smaller children to learn with a short staff. He always keeps some in the training yard. He fiddled with his healer’s sash, then straightened it again.

Thank you. Tara took the staff and turned to Vastele. Ready?

No. But does it matter? Vastele’s voice was flat, giving no outward indication of the anxiety Tara sensed from her. She turned to the healer. Thank you for your kindness over these past months. When we get settled, I’ll make sure you’re compensated for the supplies.

Don’t worry about me, my dear. Your husband’s payment all those months ago is more than adequate. It has been an honor to serve my chief. I’d like to say, ‘Write me and let me know you're safe’, but if these traitors can follow a trail here, our messages may be intercepted. You cannot take any chance they will find Tyndall’s son.

He touched the newborn’s cheek. Vastele carried him in a wrap that held him securely to her chest, leaving her hands free and giving both an added layer of warmth. Vastele looked tenderly at the child, then back to the healer. Giving him one last hug, she followed Tara out the door into the cold night.

At least there’s one village loyal to Tyndall’s line, Tara thought, leading the way to the edge of the village. Being well past midnight and nowhere near dawn, it was quiet. Dark homes surrounded the village square. A large hall stood to one side. An eerie silence followed them as Tara and Vastele headed south, on a small trail. Going on foot would take much more time, but it would be much easier to hide than the enormous prints graebigs would leave.

Where are we going? Vastele finally asked after an hour of silence.

For the moment? The East Kelvian Caverns. It’ll give us a place to rest out of the cold without having to intrude on a village. The fewer people who see us, the better.

When we leave the caverns?

Tara hesitated. She did not know how Vastele felt about Acorans, but considering she was Simoten, it was a safe bet she didn’t care for them. Tyndall instructed us to go to Acora. The chieftess will help us install a chief guardian at the Council.

To Tara’s surprise, Vastele’s emotions regarding Lady Maleen seemed completely neutral. Perhaps she’d been out of Simot long enough for her father’s tainted opinions to have faded.

The Council is two months away, Vastele’s complaints were much more practical than Tara had expected. We have no currency to pay for lodging, food, or anything else.

When Maleen hears Tyndall is dead, she’ll agree to help us hide, and she’ll make sure we have what we need.

How do you know she’ll help?

Kayla is the only other option for the new leader of Kelvia. Maleen will do everything in her power to prevent that from happening, Tara said with absolute certainty.

If Tyndall intended to use Acora for protection, why send me to the other side of the territory? A bit of annoyance entered Vastele’s voice.

Too many people are still loyal to Lenet in Western Kelvia, Tara answered. And he’d thought he’d be bringing you home by the time Volas was a couple of days old. Get used to things not going according to plan. Tara pulled the thick fur tighter around her.

By the time the sun rose, they were amid the mountains she had been aiming for. Hundreds of years ago, these high peaks had been active volcanoes and a few still were. The fertile volcanic soil gave rise to tall evergreens, sometimes only spaced enough for the narrow trail. In other places, the forest opened into what would become lush meadows in the spring, and the women had to pay close attention to where the snow-covered trail led back into the woods. Underground magma flows had created caverns throughout the range. They only needed to find an entrance and they’d have adequate shelter.

A loud wailing interrupted the silence. Volas needs to eat, Vastele informed Tara. We need to find a place to rest.

You want to sleep in the snow? Tara snapped. Give me a minute. I’ll find a cavern opening.

Luckily, Tara not only found an entrance into a cavern, but the mouth of the cave was hidden by bushes, leaving a gap large enough for a firepit someone had built a long time ago. If they kept their fire small, smoke would not be visible from even a short distance.

Tara left Vastele to feed the baby while she gathered firewood. When she returned, Vastele had finished feeding him and wrapped him snuggly as he fell asleep. The fire would give enough warmth to allow him to sleep on his mother’s mat nearby.

Vastele pulled dried vegetables and jerky from Tara’s pack.

A chief’s wife who can cook? Tara asked in surprise. She used flint to catch dry evergreen needles on fire before adding small pieces of wood and finally, a couple of larger ones.

It’s amazing what you learn when you spend months in a tiny village where everyone has to pitch in. Vastele put the small pot on the fire, adding clean snow which would melt and boil the vegetables. I also learned how to sew and make arrows and blow darts. Spending so much time with the village healer, I learned a little about herbs and minor wound treatments, too.

Admirable. Tara ignored Vastele’s haughty tone. Let’s hope to get back to the garrison soon enough that you won’t need those skills for long.

Vastele stared blankly while she stirred the soup. Did my husband die well? she finally asked.

I’m afraid I had to leave too soon. Tara’s voice cracked. He refused to run. I tried to get men to move him somewhere safe, but he wouldn’t go. She reached under her cloak into her vest pocket. Before ordering us to leave, he gave me these. She pulled out the declaration from Tyndall and the patch with his family crest.

As Vastele read the declaration, Tara sensed immense relief flood over her. I don’t have to do it. She almost smiled. I can raise my son in peace.

You still need to be in the garrison, Tara reminded her. Without Volas, my claim to Chief Guardianship means no more than a pile of dung. I never asked for the position, but if I don’t take it, I’m afraid Kayla will. By force.

Without Volas, she has a stronger claim. Vastele stared into the fire, her expression still blank. I don’t want my son in the middle of a civil war. She glanced at the bed where the child slept.

He is also Tyndall’s son, Tara said. But Tyndall’s nephew also fathered a child before he died. If you go into hiding with Volas, Kayla will use Lenet and Jewel’s child to claim Guardianship.

Would that be so bad? Vastele asked softly, returning her gaze to the fire.

Tara looked at her in disbelief. Vastele knew recent Kelvian history as well as anyone. Letting Kayla lead Kelvia would be no better than to have allowed it to her brother. That entire branch of the family cares only for power. Fanton and Lenet misused their strength to force men to follow them. Kayla won’t be any better. She’ll do anything to get power.

We haven’t heard from her in more than four years.

"No, but when she disappeared, Rundel, Jewel, and