you return to Turill.”
The Queen patted Brigitte on the head very lightly. “Thank you. I just wish it was under different circumstances. Well, I have plans to make, thank you both so much. I will have someone notify you when I am ready to leave.”
The Queen squatted down hands on her knees and looked the little girl in the eyes. “Thank you for letting me take your mother and father away for a little while, my dear.” Brigitte stood on her toes and licked the Queen’s face with her abrasive tongue.
“Brigitte,” Endra shouted. “I’m so sorry, Majesty.”
The Queen wiped her face and tried to smile.
Endra had taken Brigitte to the abbey and put the other children down for the night. She found Kian in the courtyard exercising. The movements and footwork Gildor had taught him seemed almost like a dance. The pivots and leaps the lunges and fades all could have music set to them, she thought. “Will you teach me?”
Kian stopped and wiped the sweat from his face with a towel. “Need you ask? I am not my master, but I will do my best to teach you what I can. I would feel much better if you had some training.”
“I have held my own in battle,” Endra snapped back.
“I meant no offence. You have great natural skill and you are strong. You can kill, I have seen that, but with training you could become an artist.”
Endra looked at Kian as if he was a madman. “What does swordsmanship have to do with being an artist?”
Kian pulled Endra’s bastard sword from her hip. “Gildor told me death was an art form. A swordsman must create death each time he fights. This is your brush.” He said pointing to her sword. “And your opponents are your canvas. You must start by giving life to the blade.” He slowly moved the bastard sword through the air in an intricate pattern. “Then envision your composition and craft your masterpiece.” He sliced through the air three times, too fast for her to follow. “It is easy to kill, it is a much harder thing to stay alive as you do it.” Kian handed Endra’s sword back to her hilt first.
She looked at the polished blade. “Teach me to be an artist.”
He explained what he had been taught all those years ago. He worked with her into the night by the torch light of the courtyard. The woman was quick and had good balance. She listened to everything Kian told her and did her best to mimic it. All the years of instruction he had inside him could not be taught in one night, but Kian felt Endra was off to a fine start.
When they finally sat down on a stone bench, they were both drenched in sweat.
Endra leaned over and kissed Kian on the cheek. “Thank you, my love, you are a good teacher.”
“You are a better student. I questioned everything Gildor told me. You listen and do as you’re told. I think you will learn faster than I ever did.
Kian became silent and looked into the night sky. The moon was bright and beautiful. He was quiet for a long time then he spoke very softly. “I have seen the Old Gods. They have spoken to me. I’m afraid of what they might want.”
Endra’s brow furrowed. She knew Kian well enough to know what he said was no fantasy. If he said he had seen the Gods, then he had. “Why didn’t you tell me? What did they say to you?”
Kian drew Malice and held it out before him, looking at the strange steel. “I think some may want me to serve them. It’s causing me great concern. I don’t know what I should do.”
Endra didn’t know what to say. Her people still believed the Old Gods walked the world in disguise and interfered with the lives of men. Her mother said they tested people to see if they were worthy to serve them. If they failed the test, the Gods would kill the poor man or woman for their inability to please them. “Do not anger them. If they are watching they have a purpose and it must involve you in some way.”
Kian looked into her eyes. “I do not wish to be involved.”
***
Eldon Cross sat on his huge warhorse at the head of a column of knights. “I wish I could send all of them with you, Majesty, but the Abberdonians have been defeated, and I can’t stay and help