Excerpt: The Chain of Being

I woke to a soft brush of air across my ear before I discerned my name, my instinctive reach for my dagger restrained and I felt calloused fingers against my lips. Cael knelt on one knee at my side. Caught in the shaft of moonlight created by the window high in the stone wall of the old keep, his eyes shone with an ethereal radiance, their intense blue both foreign and wonderfully familiar. I relaxed, a rare comfort in the tense atmosphere of my father’s household since my return home. Despite the warmth of recognition, the incongruity of his presence was acute.

I glanced quickly to confirm the other men in the hall remained asleep on pallets of straw. There were two brothers and a cousin from one of the out flung villages, three of many migrants who would gather from now until the Feast of First Harvest to work the vineyard, some hoping for a placement, some on their way to Mirokmar or further. I queried Cael’s intent with a lift of my brow, and Cael motioned that I was to follow him out of the hall. He rose from his crouch by my makeshift bed and silently navigated the dark room, passing through the door he’d left open. The composure and exactitude of his movements piqued my curiosity. I knew he was athletic, hours of riding and swimming together attested to it, but this belied an unexpected and graceful skill.

After a count of thirty, I tossed aside the linens and grabbed my trousers folded at the end of the cot, and made my own way to the door, my bare feet silent, and closed it behind me as I stepped through. Cael’s risk in coming to me in the middle of the night bade me forego shirt or boots, and I suppressed a shiver raised by the unseasonably brisk air as I stepped into the single item of clothing.

The grounds that lay between the main building of the holding and the secondary gate were empty. Threads of cloud passed over the moon, dimming for a moment the first clear night in many. Without the bustle of day, the yard bespoke a barrenness, the buildings remote, their significance obscured in the layered blacks and grays of the late hour. I drew back as the silhouette of a man separated from the shadowed gateway, and watched as he turned toward the manor house, his head swiveling to inspect the expanse of the yard and the horseshoe of buildings.

A second man appeared, framed by the open gates and I tensed, scanning quickly the possible explanations I could offer if I had to speak for Cael’s discovery here. But the sentry turned, at ease with the newcomer’s arrival. The two clasped forearms before they each grabbed an iron ring to pull the gate closed behind them as they entered the outer yard. The second man must have been the sentry posted to the outer gate, perhaps seeking company for a patrol of the perimeter of the holding.

With luck they would stop together for a smoke and a swig of something warming. The Guard was a formality, the men long conscripted for civil labor more than protection. The watch towers were not even in use. Branomir had known peace for decades, and under my father’s patronage, a significant village had grown in tandem with the success of the vineyards established by my grandfather. With the Mirok Road well patrolled, save for the uninhabited stretch between village and city, invasion by brigands was extremely unlikely.

Confident for the moment, I stepped from the cover of the doorway, shifting my focus to finding Cael. The moon was near full, and I was glad for the light. I located him, a tall shadow in the darkness cast by the high wall of the bathhouse that lay opposite the hall. I checked the manor for activity.

Luck held. All three stories were dark, so I crossed the yard to join him.

“Servatius, come around here.” Cael’s whisper was just audible as he took my hand and drew me around the corner and behind the windbreak of gray-green myrtle. He led the way further back the length of wall until we were deep in a tunnel formed by the dusky green foliage and the smoothed yellow sandstone of the building.

I steadied myself with a hand on his thick shoulder, and leaned in to whisper, “It’s a big risk coming here at night.” Despite the pungent aroma released by the bruised leaves of the myrtle, my nostrils flared at the familiar scent of honey and rosemary soap rising warm from Cael’s skin.

Cael lifted a shoulder. “I planned to explain myself with the ruse of requiring your assistance.” His casual confidence was evident in the smile that played at the corners of his mouth. “If I’d been found out.”

As always, Cael’s husky tenor, softened by relaxed Yildrien consonants, both surprised and delighted. His voice rich with curiosity and invitation, enlivened in me a desire to respond, to be amendable to possibility and understanding, no matter the discussion, even one like tonight’s, carried out in hushed vigilance. “What is it I’m meant to help with in the middle of the night?”

“The cold and the wet threatening the crop these past few weeks seem to have driven sleep from me, Serv. I’ve been working on the modifications to the grape press all night. And thus, my ruse is not so eccentric.”

I huffed at the iniquity. “My father’s honor should demand you be welcome anywhere in Branomir. You work endlessly caring for her.”

“Lord Akaius---” Cael’s lips curved further. “That is---your father---has welcomed me in his fashion. I’m not sure the others would. But to be free of the hall is a boon to me, especially in winter when the entire holding is packed in there.”

“You’ve created my father’s success, Cael. A room in the manor itself would not be amiss.”

Cael stifled a laugh. “Such an honor isn’t even yours with your sister taking over for her child.”

“And it is well that she should. I’m glad for Branomir that a potential heir is on the way. I’m not meant for this place.” I thought suddenly of my father’s “request”, proffered over brandy after the evening meal. I’d been drafted to offer assistance---under the family colors, of course---to the royal contingent dealing with the northern troubles.

“Although…” The memory released words I’d never thought to speak aloud. “Coming home for the season has been far different finding you here. I confess, I’ve thought of staying.” I shrugged, instantly aware of the weakness revealed, but forced myself to maintain eye contact. A tangible silence rose between us and an ache seized my heart. “Cael, I’m sorry---”

“Please don’t say anything more, Serv. It never helps to struggle against things that can’t be changed.” Cael tipped his head to the side to study me, feigning another smile. “Anyway, summer’s not yet over.”

I reached out to him, but let my hand drop. It didn’t make sense to feel as though I’d been gutted. I’d known all along I’d be leaving before Reaptide to compete in the Knight’s Tourney for a royal title, yet this wild vision of claiming my right as heir had dug in, warring with the plan that had gotten me through seven years of indentured combat.

But Cael was right. There were many things that would never be changed. “So, if it’s not help with the grape press, what did bring you within the walls tonight?”

“The news of your father sending you in the morning with Convar to the river towns. I wanted---” Cael cleared his throat. “I need to give you something before you go.”

I offered a quick grin. “You can’t wait until I return? I’ll be away just a few days.” I received an abrupt head shake instead of the smile I expected and felt an answering twist of anxiety in my gut. “Cael, what’s wrong?”

“Your father makes light of the raids on the border.” Cael pulled a ring from his forefinger and held it up in the narrow space between us, his expression obscured in the half-light of the moon through the myrtle. “I want you to wear this while you’re away.”

I offered my hand to receive it. “Where did this come from? You’ve never worn it before.” I caught a subtle green gleam from a gem set in the carved stone, stone that was cold to the touch even though Cael had just removed it. “It looks valuable.”

Cael picked the ring back up and turned my hand over to slide the ring onto my middle finger, wrapping both of his hands mine as though to secure the strange ring in place. “Call it a family heirloom.”

He dropped his eyes and his whisper became so hoarse and low I could barely hear. “In the story passed down with it, it’s meant to give protection against magic.”

I looked up from our hands and noticed the fear that tightened Cael’s features. I cut short a scoffing remark, but withdrew my hand from his grasp, overcome with unwanted suspicion. Then I remembered the atmosphere of anxiety that had taken hold of my father’s retainers and the villagers since news arrived of fatalities during the most recent attack. “There have been rumors of magic…but what do you know of it?”

“I’ve only heard the same rumors. But I know how unstable Yildriea is becoming. I didn’t leave my country on a whim.”

“And yet all the times I’ve asked how you came to Domin you’ve never really told me. Convar believes you were made to leave Yildriea for some offense, but I’ve soldiered with enough men who left something behind to make a new life so I’ve never concerned myself---”

“Your father’s sergeant has made other narrow-minded assumptions, Servatius. I came of my own accord, and I leave no wrong-doing behind.”

I blew out my breath and stepped back the few inches possible in the tight space. “I believe you. I only meant there’s nothing amiss with a new start. But Cael, you can’t think to rouse me from sleep in the dead of night, give me a charm I’m meant to wear into battle and slip away without an explanation.”

“I suppose I was hoping ‘charm’ would be enough to satisfy you.” Cael lifted his brow in chagrin and slumped against the stone wall. He folded his arms across the broad expanse of his chest and studied the ground at his feet.

I recognized this stance and knew to wait for Cael to organize his thoughts. Gazing on Cael’s shadowed profile; I turned my attention to assessing the night for sign of threat to our seclusion. The only sound was supplied by the drone of cicadas in the scrub growing outside the main Wall and by the faint call of frogs from the tributary of the Emrete River that served the holding.

The dogs in their kennels by the outer gate were quiet: no human or night predator alarmed them from sleep. The tang of the myrtle had faded, unmasking the dry smell of lichen on stone, the faint absinthian smell of crushed grass and weeds underfoot. I allowed the chill of the damp earth to seep into my feet and welcomed the challenge of the cold night air against my bare skin. Relaxing into it, my body tried to shiver, but I contained it and felt for a moment of a piece with the night, my customary awareness of mass and readiness slowly dissipating. I startled back into myself, alarmed at the lapse and tested my weight and balance.

Perhaps I broke Cael’s reverie, as looked at me, hair gleaming like white gold in the stippled light, ready to speak. “Servatius, I’m not the only Yildrien worried about the king raising an active army---especially an army aided by sorcerers. I’m just one of the few who had a trade valuable enough to gain acceptance here.”

I drew in and released a deep breath, taking care to keep my countenance still. I could feel the peace and comfort of the past few weeks slipping away, but I met Cael’s remote gaze, braced to face this astonishing turn of conversation, to honor my responsibility to seek the least mote of intelligence that might favor Domin’s interests. “You believe the army is behind the raids and that magic is involved.”

“Truly all I have are the rumors I heard in Yildriea before I left and now the same rumors have made their way across the river.” Cael straightened and I felt his hand cupping my bicep, his gaze a mix of anguish and appeal. “And your father is sending you into the middle this danger! I’ve never been…close…to a soldier. I don’t know what else to do.”

I might have enjoyed the warmth of Cael’s touch if the tremor I detected hadn’t felt akin to a betrayal of deception. I pulled my gaze from Cael’s to inspect the ring, my stomach flipping as I realized there were two of the green gems: eyes? “You said this was handed down in your family? Your family is involved in the Craft?”

“No! The story of the ring is a family legend, nothing more---a superstition. I know it’s foolish, but please keep wearing it. I need something to help me believe you’ll be safe.”

The heightened light of anxiety in Cael’s eyes convinced me he held something back. My head swam with Cael’s sudden duplicity. Yet feeling as though my heart might seize, I knew I could never deny Cael’s need for me to accept the ring. I lay my hand along Cael’s face, the familiar roughness of his day’s growth of beard against my palm like an answering caress. I traced my thumb along Cael’s cheekbone from nose to eye, the briefest of touches, and withdrew. “Okay, I’ll keep it. But when I get back, you must tell me everything about your family, why you came to Domin.”

“Good.” Cael exhaled a slow release of pent breath. He offered a half smile, a quick nod and said again, “Good.” He closed the small distance between us.

I sighed into Cael’s touch as he slid his hands over the muscles of my shoulders and arms, his fingers moving next to tease through the light web of hair as he caressed the my chest. Looking into Cael’s eyes, I was relieved to find the man I knew---lighthearted, confidant, hungry. With Cael, I did not want to be a soldier, did not want Cael’s place in my life muddled with scouting missions and political maneuvers. It would be perilous to let things go further, but I knew if he wanted me, I would yield.

“I’d best leave now before luck runs out.” Cael dropped his hands and grinned at my indrawn hiss of loss. “And before you freeze.”

I blew out my breath, lifting an eyebrow. “How did you manage to get past the guards anyway? Those others in the hall might manage to sleep through a raid but you shouldn’t have been able to get in without waking me.”

“I used to hunt.”

“More skilled on the trail than most, then.” I shook my head, suppressing the laugh that threatened to escape.

Cael shrugged off my implied question. “There is a breach in the wall where the waterworks passes through. I didn’t even have to try to get by the guard. Your father may need to know about it if the trouble between Yildriea and Domin worsens.”

“King Ladicus won’t tolerate Yildriea breaking the treaty by activating an army. If things get worse, it won’t last long.”

“I’d be happy for Yildriea to return to being a place of peace.” Cael smoothed his fingers around my ear, although with a fresh cut, there was no longer a need for him to tuck back the outgrown waves. “In the meantime, be safe.”

“I will. Until I return then. With many more questions.”

“Until you return.” Cael nodded and moved away through the narrow space.

I followed until he reached the far end of the building. Twisting the carved ring around my finger, I watched Cael step from the cover of both building and foliage to steal across the open grass in quiet sandals. The soft gray cotton tunic and trousers obscured him well in the lambent moonlight, but his habit of wearing the attire of the Yildrien craftsman stood him apart in Domin. It dawned on me that Cael, surrounded by brown haired, brown-eyed men in dark clothing and leather boots, would never blend in with his adopted countrymen in the light of day.