He finished his job as quickly as possible, anxious to attend to the child, and a bit uneasy, standing here exposed as he was. When the job was done, he said a brief prayer over the grave and turned to go. Calyx would see to it that the magic users would not return and catch him unsuspecting. He would have time to defend himself, unlike Trevor and Safira. They obviously had no warning. Trevor had not even had time to remove his ax from the wood in which it lay embedded next to where the front door had been.
Who would wish harm upon these good people? What secrets did they harbor; for surely they had done no evil in their lifetimes? What manner of being would want them dead?
So many questions swarmed around Cairn’s brow, like bees around a waiting Queen, only to be frustrated by a lack of answers altogether. He knew so little of these people to whom he had become so intimately attached so quickly and so briefly. He would find out! In time he would determine who did this and why. But, no matter how pressing it seemed to him at the moment, he could never forget what brought him this way in the first place. He had been called, and he could not stray from his path now. Cairn of Thermaye would have to gather the boy, Tomas, find Calyx and resume his mission. He had to reach Baladar as soon as he could and he still had a long and dangerous trail to follow. Now he would also have the welfare of a small boy to protect, an innocent lad, whose life had just been turned inside out, a life that he had just entered and one that he was now bound to forever, albeit, through a tragedy greater than any other he had probably yet experienced in his short lifetime.
Gathering his things from the cottage, he found his way through the bushes, back to the boy. He concentrated his thoughts upon Calyx, summoning him so that they could quickly inform Tomas of the new and harrowing circumstances and be on their way. As Cairn emerged from the trees and passed through the tall, green meadow grass, the beautiful Lalas once again in vivid sight before him, he observed the unmistakable motion of his companion bolting through the herbage to attend him. Almost simultaneously, he heard the distinct sound of a child humming, and only seconds later the air crackled in response.
Chapter Nine
Robyn dar Tamarand knew how to travel and how to do it quickly. He was by far one of the best horsemen in the city, and his horse Kraft, was among the finest in the land. Together, they would make the long journey from Concordia in the north west, southward to Baladar’s kingdom. Robyn always traveled without any other companions, entirely his own choice, so as not to frighten or confuse other humans who did not share his extraordinary abilities. He had few friends after all, and he had yet to meet anyone who measured up to his talents. He was anything but a fool, though, to assume that such a person did not exist. He had just not yet encountered him or her. That time would come, he knew, and he hoped that it would be under friendly circumstances.
As he slid down from the tree branch and bid a short and meaningful goodbye to Promanthea, certain that his soul-mate knew much more about where he was going and why than he had communicated to Robyn. But, he was also convinced that no amount of time or effort would serve to open the tree’s thoughts to his mind when it came to this matter. Robyn dar Tamarand realized when to expend his energy and when to conserve it. He was no common dolt. He would make his farewells, suffer the pangs of separation with grace and dignity as always, and move on. He knew that Promanthea would commune with him as soon as need required. In the meantime, he would get no more advice or help from him, of that he was certain.
Robyn signaled for Kraft and the big horse attended him immediately. Together, they returned to the castle so that Robyn could make the preparations necessary for the journey. He wished to bid farewell to his father, too, before setting off for the southern reaches, even though the Baron was well accustomed to his unannounced comings and goings. He felt compelled to say goodbye this time, as he truly knew not how long he would be gone, nor what was in store for him whence he arrived at his destination. He desired to see his father, to be in his presence once again, and to leave with the memory of his spirit and soul upon him. Robyn was a good son, not the careless narcissist that many people were led to believe he was.
“Your Lordship, your son returns,” Baron Calipee’s aide remarked, having spotted Robyn trotting lazily through the gates outside of the windows of the conference hall. “No doubt, he had a pleasant evening,” he commented with a knowing smirk on his face.
Ah, the indignities we have to endure to maintain this ruse
, the Baron thought, hiding his eagerness to be with Robyn once again.
“No doubt, Dustin. No doubt. I only wish he would put as much energy into matters of state as he does into women and wine.”
“Do not blame yourself, your Lordship,” Dustin replied. “Most men would trade places with him if they could.”
“Yes, but Robyn is not ‘most men’! He is of royal blood, and he has responsibilities. I have no other heir but he, and I fear for the kingdom should I grow ill or become incapacitated.”
“We all pray for you, my Lord. I am sure many share your concerns,” Dustin stated and quickly realized his words were not comforting, but rather brought to the fore the problem everyone dreaded,
“He is a good boy, you know? He loves too deeply and lusts too deeply, but that is only a sign of his passion. He will mature. He has no choice.”
The Baron ambled over to the large, leaded windows, hoping to catch a glimpse of Robyn as he entered the outer courtyard.
He has such a way about him; such striking beauty and such seeming arrogance. His enemies will do well not to underestimate him
, Baron Calipee thought with a great degree of comfort.
Robyn swaggered into the hall with such insouciance and indifference that only his striking looks would have caught the attention of an observer. He appeared to have not a care in the world; to be idly passing the time. He plucked a bunch of grapes from a laden table in the entryway, beckoned a servant to fetch a pitcher of wine and a pair of goblets and plumped himself down in a high-backed chair at the very end of the table of state.
“Father, I am exhausted!” he exclaimed. “I was up all of the night just thinking about it, or should I say her. The most extraordinary thing has happened.”
“Pray tell,” the Baron responded. “You met a woman?” he mocked.
“Not just ‘any’ woman, father. An incredible woman. A lady!” Robyn retorted. “How did you know anyway, father?” Robyn asked rather mystified.
“How could I not? I know you too well, my son. I wish only that your passion for the opposite sex was matched by your interest in your position and responsibilities,” he said, frowning.
“But is that not what you do, father? You are forever interested in nothing but your position and responsibilities. Is that not why I have no mother to comfort me?” he asked sarcastically, clearly meaning to hurt his father.
The Baron turned sharply toward his son, raised his head to speak, and then hesitated. The anger rising as he calmed himself and turned to Dustin.
“Please leave us. I wish to speak privately with my son. Have them bring the wine now, and be gone.”
Dustin recognized the tone coming from his Lordship and he hastened to obey.
“As you wish, sir,” was all he said as he went to the doorway, signaled for the servant with the refreshments, saw to their proper placement and turned to retreat to other quarters.
“I will be waiting for your pleasure, my Lord,” Dustin remarked, reluctant to depart and leave the Baron in such an agitated state, fully expecting it only to be exacerbated by a private conference with Robyn. Baron Calipee would be in a dreadful mood upon his return, of that he was sure.
As soon as Dustin closed the door securely, Robyn and his father stood and walked toward one another. Rather than fight, they embraced with such deep feeling it brought tears to the older man’s eyes.
“Ah, my son, the price we pay for your safety. I pray for the day when we can be openly father and son, the way I would like everyone to view us, the true way.”
“It concerns me not, father. I have learned to ignore the sneers and snickers. The ones that I care about know the truth,” he replied, placing his hand affectionately upon his father’s shoulder.
“What brings you to me this afternoon? Surely you did not arrive to share a glass of wine?” Calipee uttered as he poured two glasses of wine from the crystal vase on the table.
“No, father. I only wish. But more serious matters have presented themselves. I have been called somewhere by someone whose summons I cannot ignore, even if I so desired,” Robyn said with a quite serious demeanor. “I must leave immediately.”
The Baron turned to his son and said “Somewhere by someone? Can you not even tell your own father what need has beckoned?” he asked, concern in his voice.
“No, sir, I cannot. I do not wish to endanger either you or my friends in this matter. The less you know, the less you can reveal.”
“You think I would ever utter a word about this if you asked me not to? If I knew it would place you in jeopardy? The fabric weaves of its own will, my son. There is often little we can do to prevent it,” Calipee said, the hurt obvious in his voice.
“Father, never! I would not suggest that you would ever intend to reveal anything. But if you do not know my whereabouts, then no one would attempt to compel you to try to give me up. As soon as I am confident that you can remain safe, you will know everything. The matter I must attend to is very grave and the future is yet to be foretold. I know not what circumstances may prevail here after I am gone.”
“Are we in danger, Robyn? Should we take more precautions?” he questioned, walking to the large windows overlooking the city.
“We are always in danger, father, as long as the trees are dying. Our whole world is in danger.”
“Yes, it is. I feel the darkness approaching daily. What says Promanthea?” he inquired, gazing intently at his son.
“He remains silent. I glimpse only snippets of meaning from the waves of feeling he sends to me. He will not commune with me about my journey at all.”
“Is that odd? Does it cause you concern? Perhaps you should not go. Maybe that is what he is trying to tell you with his secretiveness. Remember what happened when I failed to recognize the portent of my premonitions and let your mother go that evening!” the Baron said fearfully.
“No, father, I am sure not. Promanthea knows more than he wants me to know now. But, there is no question that I must leave and that I must leave very soon. Every minute I delay is a minute less that I will have to fulfill my task. My help is needed,” he said. “And father?” Robyn remarked as he placed his hand on the Baron’s shoulder, “Mother’s death was not your fault. You had no way of knowing what would really happen that night. And besides, she was a strong-willed woman. She would have patted you on the back and told you that you worry too much. She would have gone anyway. You know that and I know that.”
“Well, I suppose you are right, Robyn. But it hurts me so deeply when I think that maybe I could have prevented her from taking that journey that particular day. We had so few enemies and she had none, or so I believed. I could not have known,” he said sadly. “If only life was filled with more perfect moments and fewer regrets over lost ones and ones that never had a chance to occur. But, alas, I have learned to accept what has befallen us,” he said, gazing blankly out the window. “It is difficult, nonetheless, for me to watch you hasten off into harm’s way too. But, there is no preventing that which must be. Let me not keep you any longer,” he said. “I have learned how to say goodbye though it never ceases to break my heart. It is not often though that I do not know the why or wherefore of your quests.”
The Baron moved to his son once more and he embraced him and kissed his cheek as if he was a young boy.
“I will contact you when I can; when it is safe. Keep your branch near you at night and I will reach you through it,” Robyn said referring to the polished piece of wood that he found at the foot of his tree one day years ago, shortly after his mother’s untimely death; a sure sign of his tree’s compassion.
He learned that he could activate it and speak through it if he had to. It hurt him to do it as nothing else did, leaving him exhausted and vulnerable afterward. But, the hurt was only temporary, bequeathing no permanent injury upon him. Using the Lalas or a piece of it to communicate with someone who was not among the Chosen was painstaking and exacted an emotional price.
It was not often that a tree allowed a part of itself, a part of its body, to be removed and used like this. But, Promanthea recognized the extraordinary and special love that existed between this father and son and so he permitted it. This Lalas disliked it nonetheless and he made his feelings known to Robyn many a time, regardless of the fact that he offered the branch to Robyn without a request and without discussion. Robyn chose his moments of usage very carefully, making sure he did not abuse the gift. Promanthea was wise and kind but possessive, and although the Baron was Robyn’s blood father, his Lalas held a different and loftier position in the hierarchy of his life, one that he protected with a passion only Robyn fully comprehended.
“Farewell, my son. May the First protect you,” his father finally spoke, impassioned, moving closer to his son once again.
“I love you father, with all my heart! Protect yourself! Be vigilant. I will return as soon as I am able.”
With those words, Robyn kissed his father’s forehead, turned and emptied his wine in one gulp, then moved toward the door and opened it just a little crack in order for what he was about to say to be heard down the entire hallway. Backing up a few yards, he threw the empty goblet with great force at the oaken slab so that the sound of shattering glass echoed down the stone passageway and was noticed by everyone in this wing of the castle.
“I
will
go, father,” he shouted. “And I thank you not to summon me again soon! Why must you always burden me with tiresome words? I want to enjoy my life, not waste away following in your oppressive footsteps.”
The Baron hung his head in dejection as his son stormed out of the room, carelessly brushing past Dustin and the serving maids with the cockiness of a strutting rooster, scattering towels and linens in the process.
“What are you staring at?” he shouted at Dustin. “Tend to my father. I am sure he needs your mothering now since he has no other woman to come to his aid.”
With that final bitter admonition, Robyn flung open the iron clad doors at the end of the hall and marched into the courtyard, his cape snapping behind him. Before he mounted Kraft, he chanced a glance backward. Catching his father’s eye, Robyn sent him an invisible spark of hope on the wings of a son’s love as he simultaneously observed Dustin’s disgusted yet disappointed expression, and with a heavy heart he spurred his mount toward the gates and out into the approaching darkness. He tilted his head back a bit and sighed a deep sigh of regret for the suffering he imposed upon all of his father’s loyal and devoted followers. Then, he stiffened his resolve and galloped into the darkness.