Lines of Fire (The Guild House - Defenders Hall)

  Lines of Fire

  by

  Janet Lane Walters

  ISBN: 978-1-77145-046-1

  Books We Love Ltd.

  Chestermere, Alberta

  Canada

  Copyright 2012 by Janet Lane Walters

  Cover Art 2012 by Michelle Lee

  All rights reserved. Without limiting the rights under copyright reserved above, no part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form, or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise) without the prior written permission of both the copyright owner and the above publisher of this book.

  The Guild House Series

  Defenders Hall

  Lines of Fire

  Prologue

  Whispers of the grief to come slithered through Alric’s thoughts. He knelt beside his father’s bed and brushed the older man’s hand. The lines of fire on his father’s skin, once bright scarlet, had faded to pale pink. Though the end approached, Alric wasn’t ready to see his father pass from life into the abyss of death.

  “Papa,” he whispered. “The men of the Guild House and their bondmates arrive in just five days to test me for admission into the Defenders Hall.” His words were a plea for his father to remain with him for that time.

  The older man’s eyes opened. The pain Alric saw brought wetness to his eyes. When his father died, there would be no relative to witness the acceptance as a Defender trainee. From the moment his father had given Alric a wooden sword and shown him the ways one could be used, he had desired to leave the village and pursue more training.

  With fierce determination, Alric sought to infuse some of his vitality into his father. As always, the attempt failed. Why could the lines of fire be used to halt the flow of blood and to not achieve a return to vitality? Alric groaned. If he had been on the wood-cutting trip into the forest, he could have helped his father and the other man. A boar had gored and broken their bodies. The other lumberman had died. Alric’s father had lingered and suffered.

  “Son.”

  The harsh whisper startled Alric. His father hadn’t spoken once in the ten days since his shattered body had been carried to the village.

  “Papa.”

  “Listen. Be Defender.”

  “I promise.”

  “Swordmaster. Enemy. Lines of fire. Not all can see.” Alric frowned. What did his father mean? Was the Swordmaster the reason his father’s bond had been broken and he had been banished to this distant village? Why should the lines remain a secret? Before he had a chance to ask his father spoke again.

  “Find sibs.”

  Alric’s head jerked up. “Sibs. I have none.”

  “One boy. One girl. Too young to steal away. Just you.”

  This new information rocked Alric’s thoughts. “I will find them.”

  “Bracelet. Take. Use. True mate.”

  New ideas and new demands swamped Alric. Questions rattled like nuts falling from the trees in autumn.

  “Save. Defenders. Restore old ways. Promise.”

  “I will.” Alric wasn’t sure what he had promised but his father’s words flowed through his thoughts the way the lines of fire flowed over his skin. He pressed his forehead against his father’s hand and slammed shut the gates of grief.

  The rattled breathing slowed and began again. Each stop and start brought a welling of tears closer to the surface. The sound stopped. Alric waited. He raised his head. The lines of fire on his father’s skin vanished.

  Gut churning sobs began and wracked Alric’s body. When the storm of tears stopped Alric rose. With leaden steps he walked to the cabin door to summon the village women to care for his father’s corpse.

  * * *

  On the day of testing, Alric waited with the other youths on the village commons. He had his father’s knife, sword and bonding bracelet. As he stared down the road, he recited the names of the four Guilds and their colors.

  “Healers, blue. Justicars, black. Artisans, motley in red, purple and yellow. Defenders green.”

  Around him whispers rose until they became a steady buzz like swarming bees. “Here they come.”

  He studied the riders and their mounts. Four men and four women approached the village. The twin horns of the steeds had been polished until they gleamed. The coats of the bihorns varied in color from cream to sable.

  By the end of the day, Alric bristled with pride. He had fulfilled one of the promises made to his father. He was the only one of the boys chosen to train as a Defender. Two girls had been tapped to become Defenders. He wondered why they had been chosen. Neither had any weapon skills.

  Before leaving the village with the youths selected for the four guilds, he slipped away from the celebration to visit his father’s grave. Silent tears fell. He dashed them away. “In five years I’ll wear Defender’s green. I will keep the promises I made.”

  Chapter 1

  The challenge match had lasted longer than Alric thought possible. His opponent, one of the desert riders, had been chosen by his clan for the duel. Only one man could win. If Alric bested the other fighter, the local farmers would be spared raids on their crops and herds by the nomad band comprised of rebels against the laws of Investia. If he lost the raids would continue until another patrol arrived. Alric concentrated on the lines of fire flowing over the other man’s skin.

  The younger man was agile and talented with the sword and knife. His hair, bleached by the sun, shone red-gold in the morning light. The lines flowed in changing scarlet patterns over his arms and bare chest.

  Alric’s opponent’s quick responses to each move made him believe the young man read the lines, too. Someone had to make a mistake before they collapsed.

  Sweat coated Alric’s skin. An occasional droplet stung his eyes and blurred his vision. The desert rider showed the same physical reactions. Exhaustion threatened Alric’s control. Then he found an opening. The lines of fire on the younger man’s sword hand faltered.

  Alric lunged and caught the other sword sending the blade sailing through the air. He followed with a sweep of his leg. The desert rider sprawled on the ground. Alric pressed his knife against the man’s pulsing neck vein.

  “Yield,” he demanded.

  “Yielded.” The young man grinned. “Good fight. I’m Jens.”

  “Alric.”

  Jens turned to the gathered clansmen and the crowd of cheering farmers. “Trade is good unless you try to cheat. We have wool, silver, gold, some gemstones, herbs and spices. We need grain, produce, honey and beer.”

  “Do you have salt among the spices?” a man asked.

  “We do.”

  Moments later someone tapped a keg of beer. Alric opted for a mug of water. Once the formalities ended he searched the crowd for his current bondmate. Before he found her, Jens beckoned. They drew apart from the celebrating clan and villagers.

  “I gather you see the lines of fire,” Jens said.

  Alric glanced around to make sure no one stood close enough to hear. “It is said only those who are heart bound can see them. Among the Defenders I do not speak of my ability to anyone other than those I trust.”

  “Why? I have no bondmate and my friends know of my ability. That’s why I’m chosen for these duels. You’re my first loss.”

  Alric moved further from the celebration. “Seeing the lines is one of the reasons our forefathers used the mists to come to this land. Sorcerers sought to use their talents for evil.”

  “An old wives’ tale I’ve often heard from the elderly riders.”

  “Perhaps. I’m a Defender as I promised my fa
ther I would become. I believe what he told me when I was growing up.”

  Jens frowned. “How fortunate to have known your father. As a small child I lived in the Defenders Hall. My mother died so I was fostered to a shepherd’s family when I was three. Soon as I could I ran. A penned life isn’t for me.”

  Alric swallowed. “Did you have a sister?”

  Jens shrugged. “My memories of the Defenders Hall are poor. What I remember is a tall man dragging me away and riding with him for days.”

  Alric wished the younger man had more memories but he feared he would never know if this young man was his lost brother. “You might consider coming with our patrol. Though you’re older than most of the trainees, your skill would let you advance rapidly.”

  Jens laughed. “You could leave the Defenders behind and join this clan of riders. We would welcome a man with your skills. You and I could be invincible as a team at the games.”

  Alric studied the ground. There were times when he dreamed of leaving the Defenders. Some of the twelve years hadn’t been pleasant, especially when the leader placed obstacles in his way. He’d leaped over those stumbling blocks and succeeded. The promise he’d made to his father ruled his life.

  Alric turned away and saw his bondmate waving. “I must go. Good riding and successful dueling.”

  “Same.”

  When Alric strode away from the younger man he scowled. The connection to Jens had been deeper than usual. Though the younger man had no memories of the past, he could be one of the missing sibs. In an instant Alric decided when he returned to the Hall he would search the Archives to see if the records held any information about his family.

  His bondmate led him away from the crowd. “Where is the rest of the patrol?” he asked.

  “I told them to head out and you would catch up.”

  She wore no bracelet. A groan rumbled from his gut. Bracelets meant the bonding between mates stood. Since she had removed hers, that meant he’d been twice rejected. Once more and he would be banished from the Defenders. He opened the clasp on the brass one he wore.

  “Seeks you won’t be returning with me.”

  She stared at the ground. “I never wanted to be a Defender. I wanted to exchange bracelets with my childhood sweetheart. He’s here and wears no bracelet.”

  With his thumbs, Alric tilted her head to see her expression. Though her decision was right for her, sadness shrouded his thoughts. “I wish you happiness.” He dropped the bracelet she had clasped on his wrist during the bonding ceremony into her hand. “Here’s your price.”

  She shook her head. “I don’t want you to pay the fine. I never tried to see if our bond could last.”

  “Neither did I.”

  “You could have forced me to unite with you.”

  Alric grimaced. “I wasn’t raised to grab what I wasn’t offered.”

  “What will you do?” she asked.

  “The patrol has finished the rounds of the southern sector of Investia. The Day of Ingathering for the returning patrols is just weeks away. I’ll ride to the Defenders Hall and choose another mate.”

  “I wish you luck.”

  Alric walked away. He touched the bracelet hidden beneath his shirt. His father had given him the unique piece just before his death. Perhaps this time he would find his heart bound mate.

  * * *

  Not wanting to admit his second failure to find a bondmate, Alric held his bihorn, Storm Cloud to a walk and avoided farms and villages. At night he camped in forest glades. Though the members of his patrol wouldn’t blame him for the failure he felt troubled. Somewhere in the Hall his heart bound waited for discovery. Would he have the time to find her or would the Swordmaster force him to make another unsuitable choice?

  Two weeks after leaving the site of the duel with the desert rider, Alric neared the Guild House. He pushed his bihorn to a steady pace. By late afternoon he would reach his destination. Three days after that, Ingathering Day would occur. The other four patrols had already left on their rounds. When he arrived he had to report to the Swordmaster and face the leader’s gloating remarks over the failure of another bonding.

  Tension centered between his shoulder blades. He pressed a hand against the bonding bracelet dangling from a chain about his neck. The links of the unusual piece were made from gold, silver, copper and electrum.

  The sun reached midday. Storm Cloud slowed. Alric stroked his mount’s neck. “Not much further. Then grooming, food and a treat.”

  The steed’s pace returned to a steady canter. Alric steadied his thoughts. He would reach the Hall in time to search the records for news of the sibs his father had mentioned years ago. He had avoided searching before but since meeting Jens, a need to know had arisen.

  When he saw the massive stone wall surrounding the four halls belonging to the four guilds of Investia, foreboding entered his thoughts. Though his father had named the Swordmaster as an enemy, Alric didn’t understand the older man’s animosity. During the training days there had never been a word of praise. Even now Alric’s reports were searched for flaws.

  He rode through the open gate leading to the Defenders Hall. He dismounted and led his bihorn across the courtyard to the stables. There he brushed Storm Cloud’s dark brown coat until it gleamed, polished the horns and checked the animal’s hooves. He filled the manger with hay and oats, adding a handful of the tart purple apelons. These fruits were the steed’s favorite treat.

  After cleaning and oiling the saddle and tack, he hung them on a hook and lifted the pack and journal. Unable to delay any longer he strode to the central entrance. He paused outside the Swordmaster’s door and knocked. He braced for the lecture he didn’t deserve. Neither of his bondmates chosen by the leader had suited. They had returned to their villages. Though the leader should guard his men, the Swordmaster’s attempts to control Alric’s life were wrong.

  “Enter.”

  Alric closed the door and stood in front of the highly polished mahogany desk. The dark wood was covered with record books. The Swordmaster glared. A liberal sprinkling of white, colored his sandy hair.

  “Defender Alric, reporting.” He placed his journal on the desk.

  The Swordmaster bent his head and read the short entries. “Your accounts agree with the others of your patrol. No fatalities and only one death among your four years on rounds of the sectors. You have quite a record.” He stroked his chin. “Why do young men not chosen for training attack from behind?”

  Alric shrugged. “If I could read minds such tragedies could be avoided.”

  “Where is your bondmate?”

  Alric straightened. “She remained at the outpost village in the southern sector. She had no desire to be a Defender and her skills were mediocre.” He placed his hands on the desk. “This time the choice is mine.”

  The older man’s jaw thrust forward. “There is no time for you to visit the Women’s Quarters and court any of the unbonded. There are important short assignments you can best fulfill. I have chosen the perfect mate for you. She has long admired your skills and she will bond permanently. When she names you, you will accept.”

  Alric drew a deep breath. “According to the rules governing this guild, a man or a woman has the right to choose his third mate. Section 4, Rule 1.”

  The older man smiled. “Rules can be overturned by the Swordmaster.”

  A frown tightened Alric’s forehead. He had memorized the Defender’s rules. “Why have I never seen that written?”

  “Unwritten and known only to the Swordmaster. Passed from my predecessor to me. Followed for several generations. Broken just once in my memory and the Defender who broke the rule ended in disgrace. The woman he chose walked into the abyss of death.”

  Though Alric fought to control his reaction, he flinched. Had the incident been part of his father’s disgrace? Did the custom explain why the same family had ruled the Defenders for several generations? Were any rivals identified and bonded with unsuitable mates so they were banished wh
en the bondings failed?

  The Swordmaster half-rose. “Go to your suite. Sleep well. In three days the gong will summon the patrols for the Ingathering. You will meet your final bondmate.”

  Alric backed to the door. He didn’t trust the older man not to throw the knife he held. For an instant he studied the lines of fire on the Swordmaster’s skin. Dark, turgid and touched with evil. The state of the leader’s lines meant he had turned toward the ways of darkness. If challenged, could he be defeated?

  As he stepped into the hall, tension shot along his spine. His chest felt as though iron bands circled his ribs. Two men he wished to avoid approached. Robec, the leader’s son and Petan, the bully, sauntered along the corridor. Alric glanced at their arms. Both remained unbonded. He’d heard about Petan’s ill-fortune with his bondmates. Robec had never been chosen. Why?

  “Country boy,” Petan drawled. “No bracelet?”

  The band around Alric’s chest prevented him from drawing a deep breath. “Just as you have none. At least my former mates are alive. Didn’t both of yours suffer tragic accidents?”

  Anger flashed in the beefy man’s dark eyes. “Stupid gits. Last one tried to take a duel I’d marked as mine.”

  Had Petan taken the young woman’s life rather than the killer being the man she’d fought? Petan had killed the fighter so there was no one to say what had happened.

  Alric turned to Robec. “Do you have taunts to add?”

  A flash of color stained Robec’s face. During their training years, he had been Alric’s closest rival for honors. Alric had usually emerged the winner. He believed his rival saw the lines of fire though he failed to use them. Was the reason personal? Did Robec see the dark lines of his father and his friend and refuse to believe what they meant?

  When he refused the Swordmaster’s choice, which of his rivals would issue the challenge? He knew Robec’s style. Petan had been a year ahead of him so he and Alric had never dueled.