Blayre awoke to someone shaking her shoulder. She squinted, trying to focus her sleep-ridden eyes on the face that peered down at her, one hand resting on Blayre's shoulder, the other holding a softly glowing orb of light, illuminating dark eyes and skin and high cheekbones.
Realizing it was her mentor, she sat up quickly and looked around, surprised that it was still dark. "What? Did I oversleep?"
"No," Nuala whispered. "Help me wake Seeker Ainslee, and then we will discuss it."
Waking Ainslee was no simple task, but Blayre was used to it by now. When Nuala was satisfied that the red-headed woman was awake enough to pay attention, she began to elaborate.
"Caval has just received word that the King has fallen seriously ill."
Blayre sucked in a breath. Her heart sank down to her stomach as her thoughts immediately turned to Rorrick. Rorrick, who wanted nothing to do with the crown. Rorrick who didn't want to come any closer to the throne than he already was.
"Is he going to be okay?" Ainslee asked.
Nuala shrugged, "No one is certain at this point. We will need to make good time back to the Capital. Nothing has been confirmed but the illness seems," she paused, "Unnatural. It is not to be discussed publicly. I'm sure word will travel quickly as it is. Some things are difficult to hide from the public eye. Especially when you King Barton has always been the picture of health."
Blayre rubbed her eyes and searched blearily through her things for her uniform. "Unnatural how?"
Nuala put a finger to her lips, "I can't say, but I have my sources. I'm sure our beloved King has many enemies who wish him ill will."
"But his Majesty is known for keeping the peace," Ainslee put in, not bothering to keep her voice down. "I don't understand why ..."
Blayre straightened and glanced quickly at the door. She could feel some sort of pressure building outside. A static feeling, like the gradual oncoming of a storm. Someone was eavesdropping. Using magic to do so. Thinking quickly for someone who had been sound asleep minutes before, she stood abruptly and grabbed Ainslee by the shirt. "Shut up," she mouthed. Nuala gave her a questioning look. In two swift, silent steps Blayre was at the door. She motioned for Nuala and Ainslee to step away. She felt the tingling of Nuala's power as it began to gather. Blayre swung open the door. Her hand had grasped a collar and her blade found the soft skin of someone's neck instantly.
"Who are you and how much did you hear?" She hissed in the man's ear. He was small and rodent-like with a balding head and a mustache that twitched nervously.
"Colman!" Nuala exclaimed, coming up behind Blayre, her power still gathering at her hands. "Seeker Blayre, excellent work. You may stand down, I'll handle this from here."
Blayre slowly withdrew her blade, but continued to watch the new mage suspiciously.
Nuala dragged the small wisp of a man into the room and shut the door behind him. She produced a tiny satchel of mage-powder that Blayre assumed was meant to protect against eavesdroppers. "Should've done this before," she muttered, sprinkling it around the doorframe and along the walls. Then turned to Colman who looked terrified. "What were you thinking, you fool?" She chastised, advancing on him like a lioness targeting her prey.
"I-I-I meant nothing by it," Colman stammered as he was backed into a corner by Nuala, energy brimming around her hands. "I was told that you were here and I only came to share news of the King's i-i-illness... but it seems you a-a-already know."
"So you admit that you overheard our conversation." Nuala fumed. Blayre had never seen the veteran seeker so riled. She and Ainslee stood back - Blayre clutching her knife, Ainslee holding her pack to her chest as if it could somehow protect her.
"What do you know about the illness?" Nuala demanded.
Colman took a deep, shaking breath, gathering his courage in the face of the the Seeker's fury. "My sources say that it came on rapidly and took him far sooner than it should have, if he was as healthy as they say."
"And who are 'they'?" Nuala asked.
"The court physicians, Seeker." He shrugged, and played with the cuffs of his shirtsleeves. "As you can see, I have just as much knowledge as you on the situation - p-perhaps more."
Nuala gave him one final shove and then stalked across the room, beginning to pace. She reminded Blayre of an irritated bird, feathers puffed and ruffled. Nuala turned to Ainslee. "To answer your question, the King may be known for keeping the peace, but he is also the sovereign of the wealthiest, most powerful Kingdom on the continent."
Blayre nodded in understanding. Emares was a prime location for all kinds of resources. The mountains to the north, were rich in minerals. Its ample forests provided timber for building and burning. The banks of the Rivers Uanne and Emerald were ideal for farming, and the coastal region was optimal for trade and fishing.
Nuala turned to Colman, "If you are on your way back to the capital you will be accompanying us. so I can keep an eye on you."
"Yes ma'm." the mage said meekly.
"And Blumore - a private word if you please." She looked pointedly at Colman who scurried out of the room. "Ainslee, if I could have a moment with her?"
Ainslee nodded gravely and gave Blayre a reassuring smile before leaving the room.
Nuala sat down on her bed with a sigh. "He specializes in magical communication." She jerked her chin toward the door where Colman had recently exited. Blayre nodded and folded her arms across her chest, shifting on her feet.
Nuala spoke again, "So how did you know someone was outside that door?"
Blayre just stared at the senior seeker, willing herself to remain calm. Even her closest friends knew nothing of her ability. For the most part she was able to keep it quiet. She did her best not to use it in ways that were obvious. It was alright to use it to find the answer, but she only used that information to come to the same conclusion the hard way. Sometimes she felt guilty for that - a couple of mages had had enough time to slip through her grasp.
"Well?" Nuala raised an eyebrow. "It wasn't just luck, Blumore. I've been a seeker for fifteen years and didn't have the slightest inclination that that - weasel - was lurking. Don't worry, I won't spill all of your secrets unless I think you're a danger to others." She added. "I'm interested in finding out what he's doing here." She added with a grumble. "And why he felt the need to listen in."
Not entirely reassured, Blayre paced to the window and looked out into the darkness below, gathering the courage to speak. A chill settled over her, like frost creeping up the stalk of a plant - making it hardened yet fragile. She didn't know Nuala very well, but the past few weeks of travel had indicated that she was trustworthy, and a good mentor. There was always that fear in the back of her mind that if the wrong people found out, she would be forced to use it unwillingly. One wrong step and someone could crush her like a frozen flower.
She turned back to Nuala who was waiting patiently for her response. We all tire of secrets at some point. Rorrick's words echoed in her mind. A whisper of encouragement when she was quaking inside. She hadn't imagined telling Nuala of all people. But perhaps this was the best place to start. Nuala was experienced, down to earth, and took things in stride.
Blayre took a deep breath. "I have a gift." She turned away from the window and back toward the older woman. "I can sense magic, even when it can't be seen."
"You can sense it how?" Nuala asked, her face remained neutral.
"Mostly I feel it. It's difficult to describe. I feel it as an energy, or a sensation, depending on the mage's power. I can also roughly sense the level of power. The more powerful the mage, the more easily I feel it."
"Which is how you could tell that Colman was standing outside the door."
"Correct, he must have been using magic to help him to better hear our conversation." Blayre acknowledged. "And I can sometimes sense the power in magicked objects. If there's enough within them - the dragon scales..." Her voice trailed off.
"I can understand why you would want to keep that quiet," Nuala said, "But that is a very valuable gift to have. A gift that could earn you an excellent place with the seekers and perhaps eventually The Twelve. Why hide it?"
Blayre pursed her lips in thought before replying. "I'm afraid of being used. I'm afraid of being forced to wield my power for something that I don't believe in. I want to trust that that would never happen, but I can't be sure." She admitted.
Nuala looked thoughtful. "It is understandable that you would want to protect yourself. You're one of the good ones, Blumore. You have morals." Nuala said matter-of-factly. She sprung herself up from the bed, and then, as if there was nothing more to be said on the subject, added, "Well, get some sleep then I don't know about you, but the prospect of returning to the capital doesn't appeal to me as it did last night."
The mood had shifted dramatically from the night before - or was it still the same night? Blayre wasn't entirely sure since darkness still enveloped the world outside as the group mounted their waiting steeds and began their journey back to Emares City. She hadn't bothered to ask.
In some twist of fate, the rain had finally lifted, but their moods remained damp and filled with the gloom that accompanies ill news.
Rory was uncharacteristically silent, his eyes unseeing ahead. Blayre wondered what must be going through his mind. She knew he lauded his uncle's accomplishments. He respected the man, admired him, and perhaps there was love there too.
But she also knew that he must be worried about his nearness to a crown that he did not want. Briannon was certainly alive and well. But if this illness was at all suspicious - and worse, if it resulted in death... Blayre sucked in a breath, biting her lip. It seemed the danger was only rising for her friend. She needed to be on higher alert.
Poor timing with what had happened between them yesterday. She found herself even more distracted by the purse of his lips, or the nervous way he ran his fingers through his hair. It had been easier to push away those thoughts when they hadn't been real. When she hadn't allowed herself to entertain the possibilities.
She cursed. Damn him for breaking through that carefully constructed barrier. He had breached her defenses as easy as a battering ram on a parchment wall, when she had thought it was constructed of stone.
Their next stop was at an inn called the Traveling Hound. A fire warmed the hearth, and Blayre leaned back closing her eyes and relishing its warmth, feeling the tension in her body melt away with the heat. They had camped for the past couple of nights, and even though the rain had let up, the nights were still damp - the feeling of moisture seeped into the tents despite the drying charms on them - nothing was going to prevent this, short of putting a magic shield around the camp. Blayre had almost forgotten what it felt like to be warm and dry - though Caval hadn't. She had felt the gentle puffs of his magic as he had dried his clothing each night.
"Feels good," Fletcher said as he plopped down unceremoniously next to her,"To finally be under a roof, no rain pelting our backs and making us look like a pack of stray mutts."
Nuala chuckled, wiping at the edge of her mouth with a napkin. "Get used to it, Seeker. It's not all glory and honor."
The mood in the group had continued to be strained. This being the first inn that they had stayed at, they hadn't been sure what to expect as far as knowledge of the situation back in the capital. So far, it seemed no news was good news. None of the townspeople or travelers that they encountered seemed to have any inkling of what was unfolding in the capital city, and so far Colman hadn't informed Nuala of any news.
"Quiet crowd tonight," Ainslee observed, glancing around the room. The patrons were mostly eating and talking quietly while sipping their ale, and relaxing in the cozy arm chairs by the fire.
"It's early," Nuala shrugged. "This is predominantly a traveler's' inn, hence the name. Mostly tired folk like ourselves staying here. The rowdy local crowd either goes to one of the other taverns or stops by here later on."
Blayre finished up her meal and decided stayed to stay down a while longer. Rory had taken his meal in his room, and the rest of the party was spread out around the room. Playing darts, or listening to the gentle notes of a piano in the corner. She warmed herself with a hot mug of tea, while she studied those around her. As a child, being in public places with large groups of people had overwhelmed her. Her gift of sensing magic had often been overstimulating until Aunt Aphria had finally convinced her Father of the necessity to send Blayre to the capital for proper training.
Blayre recalled her Father's words as she'd stood outside the study, ear pressed to the closed door to eavesdropping, the effects of a sound muffling charm covering the cracks of the doorframe - a magic that had no effect on her. She could hear as much as she wanted. "But Blayre doesn't even have measureable magic. There is no sense in investing the money into an undetectable gift."
"The girl may not have a true magical gift," Aunt Aphria had hissed, "But she has a very unique gift that could be valuable to her if she were given the opportunity to train it properly. Right now it's a hindrance to her. The girl must learn to control it, and to use it properly."
"But it's not traditional magic," Lord Darach argued. "She is terrified of public spaces, and with good reason. She's getting inundated with sights and feelings that neither you, or I have ever experienced. With her resistance to magical use on her, she would make a good Seeker one day, don't you think? She needs to learn how to get used to it. And if it's something else entirely, who would even know how to train her? And who are you to tell me what to do? You're not her mother."
"And who is her mother, Darach?"
A silence followed. Blayre could almost feel the sting of the words as they left his mouth as palpably as she felt the sting of the muffling charm's magic leaking from the edges of the door.
"I think you should send her Darach. Blayre needs this opportunity. A talent like that might even be useful to the Crown someday. And it would get her out of this toxic environment that you've brought her into."
"We've kept it quiet for this long..." Darach argued, but his voice had softened.
"Brother, she can't be kept here forever. Not with a gift like this," Blayre's aunt said softly. "And you can't use her current," she paused trying to find the right word, "Challenges with being in public to keep her here. She'll never be a proper lady that way either. The moment the girl sets foot in any populated city, she'll be overwhelmed especially with all of the mages that converge in the capital. No one will want to marry a young woman who must be relegated to her home, away from social life at all times."
"They will use her." Her father said, voice dripping with sadness. "If people in power find out what she can do, they will use her and she will have no choice in the matter."
"Their majesties would never abuse someone's power, so." Aunt Aphria put in. "Everyone who serves the Crown, chooses to. King Barton is a good man - you know he is."
This was followed by silence and Blayre could hear her father's solid footsteps pacing the room. It was what he did when deep in thought. "Very well," Darach finally said, breaking the silence. "She may go to the Capital to train, but only with someone who will use the utmost discretion. Understand that I do not want just anyone to know what she is, what she can do. One day she will be old enough to make that decision herself, but for now this is the only way I will allow it."
"I of course think you do have a point in that respect of the matter," her aunt sighed, "I do have someone in mind."
Blayre was jerked into the present by Fletcher's hand firmly gripping her arm, an unused dart held in the other. "Blayre, did you hear that?" His eyes were wide, with what emotion she could not tell.
"I'm sorry, I was just lost in thought," she said, "What is it?"Â She glanced around the room and noticed that everyone was quiet, and unmoving as though frozen in time - the only movement coming from where a man in a messenger's cloak was being helped to a table.
"It's the King," Fletcher whispered gravely. "He's passed on to the after-realm."
A/N: I've been trying to stay away from author notes, but this one is necessary because I wanted to announce that I will be making a few changes to the cover and title of Wolfheart! Not sure exactly when all will be revealed, but stay tuned for a new title, and an updated cover. (Just wanted to give fair warning so that when I do ultimately updated, you aren't all entirely confused ;) )