A Sword Of Wrath, Book I - K. E. MacLeod (nonfiction book recommendations .TXT) 📗

me girls don't fight with swords! Only boys! I hate the baby! I hate him so much! It's not fair!"

"No, no, no, shhh," he held her again. "Don't say such things, Aelia. Your brother will need you in the future, so you shouldn't say such a horrible thing. And you know what? You shouldn't worry about swords and fighting right now, either. You worry about Marcus and your mother and I'll talk to your father for you."

"Really?" She sniffed again and wiped her nose on the sleeve of her tunic.

He nodded, "Yes, really. You leave it to me. I'll try to talk to him tonight, even. Now, go and celebrate, Aelia, and be proud of your little brother; he is yours for all eternity to protect and love. Do you think you can handle such a big responsibility?"

She grinned a giant grin at her uncle, which revealed a missing front tooth as she nodded.

"Good girl! Now, go to your mother and father, they will miss you soon!"

 Aelia gave him another toothless grin and then sprinted back off in the direction of the celebrations.

Across the way, Severus handed his son, still screaming at the top of his lungs, over to Nona, then kissed the top of her head.

"Are you pleased?" she asked, swaddling the infant whose cries began to fade almost immediately in her arms.

"I am, my lady. You have done well, yet again. There aren't many women of the Cavalli that can say they have two healthy living children!"

She laughed, "Yes, and I will do everything in my power to make it stay that way!"

He smiled back, warmly, "I know you will, my lady, I know you will."

They looked at each other for only a moment, sad smiles touching their lips while hours of conversation passed between the two of them even as no words were spoken.

Nona laughed again to break their silence, "Alright, my husband, now go and get yourself some ale! It is a celebration after all!"

He nodded, "Yes, it is, my lady! And tonight I will drink my fill!"

Severus left his wife's side and made his way towards one of the many tables that now surrounded them. He grabbed a wooden mug full of ale and took a giant swig. As he did he caught the figure of Tacitus above the rim, watching the festivities from the shadows. He drained the cup quickly, then crossed the village center to greet his brother.

"Hullo, Tacitus, you can join us, you know?"

He nodded politely, "I know."

Severus gave his brother a hardy slap on the back, "My son, he's big, huh?"

"Yes, he is. You should be very proud. He'll make a fine swordsman one day, my brother."

"By the gods, I hope so!"

"Father would be pleased."

He nodded solemnly, "I hope he would. I never thought I would have a son, or any child for that matter, and I was afraid that the Order would never rise again. Now, though, Tacitus, now it will live again! I just hope I can find the recruits I need."

Tacitus paused a moment, gathering his courage to say what needed to be said, "Uh, Severus, I - um, I - what about Aelia?"

"What about her?" Severus gave his brother an odd look.

"I mean, I know it's not my place but, I... I think Aelia would make a fine swordsm-er, ah, woman. You've practically taught her since birth to wield that little wooden dagger of hers."

"A swords wo -Aelia? Really?" he looked surprised. "I've... never thought about it before but, by the gods, I think you're right, Tacitus!" He laughed, "All this time I've been worried that the Order would have no members until my son came of age - and I have had its first recruit under my roof the whole time! How could I be so blind?"

"She definitely has your determination!" Tacitus laughed.

Severus nodded, "Very true! And her mother's temper!"

Tacitus face fell slightly at the mention of Nona but he covered it with a smile, "Yes, well, I-I think it's a brilliant idea! Although..."

"Although, what?"

"Well, the idea may not be well received among our brothers and sisters of Two-Crows."

Severus scoffed, "Ah, well, when has anything we've ever done been well received among these people?"

"Yes," Tacitus nodded, "that is very true."

"Well, I should probably get back but, Tacitus," he looked at his younger brother, "just know that you are welcome to join us. You are always welcome and forever will be."

He gave Tacitus one last hardy pat before returning to join his family in the festivities. As he turned away, Tacitus could see the scars that were upon Severus' back peeking out from beneath his shirt and snaking up the sides of his neck.

Tacitus' eyes fell to the ground as he was suddenly awash in a flood of remorse at the sight of them. It had been years since his brother had been forced to carry his shame but the rawness of the debt was always there, just under the surface and no amount of sacrifice on his part would ever be enough to repay his brother.

Tacitus turned away from the celebration and walked towards his home and the one thing in the world that would never judge him: his pony, Bellona. He greeted her as he began to brush her coat, "Ah, Bellona, at least I can do right by you, huh, girl?" He spoke aloud to her as he continued to brush, "And then, one day, I will show them all that I am worthy again. Well," he laughed slightly, "at least as soon as I start to believe it myself."

 

* * *

 

As the misty morning dawned, Timonus was pleased that he had at last arrived at the caves of the Eastern Shore. He had already ridden for a majority of two hours since before the sun rose and the path that had led him there had not been an easy one. His back and shoulders ached and the last few meters of the way had been littered with sharp rocks and boulders, causing his horse and the one that he had brought for the venefica, to lose its footing more than a few times and nearly throw him down onto the craggy terrain.

As he rode up to the dark gaping maw of the largest cave in the area, five veneficas stepped out to welcome him. They stood before Timonus, all in a straight line as if the same woman had been used over and over in order to make four additional duplicates of the original, each dressed in black, long-sleeved gowns. Their long hair, dark as the caves that surrounded them, was pulled upwards and set atop their heads in intricate braids, contrasting with their pale, almost bluish skin, while each of their lips and fingertips were stained the same color of pitch as their dresses.

Timonus, uncomfortable in their presence, adjusted himself uneasily atop his horse's saddle and announced, "I am here for Moriana."

"We are Moriana," they answered in unison, the same slight smile upon all of their faces.

Timonus expression grew annoyed as he spat out, "Fine, you can all be Moriana if you wish but one of you must ride with me to Feronia."

The venefica that stood in the middle of the line stepped forward, the slight grating smile still upon her black lips, "I will ride with you, Legate." She turned around to face the others and bowed slightly, "Goodbye, my Sisters. May the Goddess protect you."

"And you!" they called out again in disturbing unison as she climbed atop the other horse that Timonus had brought along.

Once he was sure that she was safely seated in the sidesaddle, they began their trek upwards through the rocks towards the path that would carry them away from the caves of the Eastern Shore and along the cliffs all the way to Feronia.

"I saw you in my dreams last night," Moriana spoke to Timonus from her place behind him, her tone as overcast as the gray sky above them.

He sighed, already aggravated by her mere presence, "Oh, and was I in a great battle? Or-or winning some kind of war? Isn't that the way it always is with you... sorceresses?" He spat out the last word.

"No," her half-smile stayed put on her face as she pulled her horse up equal to his, "you were dead." She then kicked her horse and sped a little ways ahead, leaving Timonus' mouth agape as he watched after her.

"Wait!" He shouted as he caught up with her. "What do you mean 'dead'?"

"Ah, but you are an unbeliever. Tell me, why should I indulge you in revealing the innermost visions of the Wayward Daughter?"

He seemed flustered, " Yes, I-I am an unbeliever where you lot are concerned, it's true, but being told that you were dead in a stranger's dream is very unsettling, no matter what path your beliefs may take."

Her eyes took on a bemused look, though her expression never changed, "Then again, maybe it wasn't you, after all."

"Fine," Timonus grew agitated. "I should've known it was a venefica trick. You are trying to poison my mind; it won't work."

"You're angry with me?"

He didn't respond.

Realizing she wouldn't get very far playing mind games with the Legate, she instead asked, "How long is our ride?"

"Two days. Feronia is along the shore, to the North. We'll ride all day and camp tonight and then a full ride tomorrow and we should be there."

"I fear it won't be as easy as you say." Moriana looked towards the sea, "There are dark things brewing in the Empire."

He nodded, "You don't have to be a sorceress to know that."

She looked at him, her wry smile seemingly less frozen, "But it helps."

They rode the next hour in silence, the horse's hooves falling against the path and the waves crashing beneath the cliffs making the only sounds that brushed against their ears.

After awhile, exhausted by the company of his own thoughts, Timonus asked, "Did you really see me dead?"

Moriana smiled sadly, "Well, I... I saw a legate... he was laying facedown on a battlefield. There was... smoke... all around and the cries of death," her face showed its first true sign of emotion as her mouth turned slightly downward and a quiet fear entered her eyes, "you are the Legate, correct?"

"I am."

"Then, yes, it was you."

They continued their silence for a few more meters, the roll of distant thunder murmuring in the distance.

Again growing tired of the lull in their conversation, Timonus cleared his throat and began to speak, "Well, despite your supposed vision, I still don't believe-"

"You know, I was like you, once: an unbeliever," she interrupted.

Timonus looked at Moriana in surprise.

She laughed, "What? You think I was born venefica?"

"Aren't they usually?"

She shook her head, "No, that's only a rumor. We don't actually nurse on poisoned milk as infants."

"So, how did you-"

"Become one? Well, I," she smiled wistfully down at her hands, which held the horse's reins, "it's a very long and uninteresting story."

Timonus laughed slightly, "We have a two-day ride. It can be as long and uninteresting as you want and it will still pass the time."

"I... suppose," the frozen, hesitant smile returned.

"Well, let's start with your name, then. What is your real name?"

She shook her head, "No, Moriana is my name now. That is my real name."

"I don't see how we'll get very far into the story if you insist on-"

"Moriana will do for now," she declared with a resolute finality in her statement.

Timonus frowned slightly, "Alright."

They rode a bit longer before she spoke again, "I... I was an orphan in Odalia."

"You're from the capital?"

She laughed freely, "Well, who knows where I'm actually from but," she shrugged slightly, "that's where I was found at least. I... don't remember how I arrived in the city or even how old I was. I just know that from the time that I was about eight years of age, I dug through refuse piles and stole what I could to survive. I slept in the alleyways-"

"That's very dangerous for a girl so young."

"I had a knife," she