Shadows in the Stone by Diane Lynn McGyver
Chapter 18
One of 51
The sun cascaded upon the guards securing the walls surrounding Aruam Castle and Maskil. The men’s shift began only three hours beforehand, so they were fresh and alert. The warming season had arrived, but a cool breeze flowed from the north, bringing a needed break from the heat. A cheerful atmosphere permeated the castle in spite of recent events. The cause lay partly with the arrival of cool temperatures but mostly with the speculation of who would be appointed lord to fill Lady Dasia’s position. Posters around Maskil listed the names of several candidates being considered. The selection of the new lord would take place in five days.
Business as usual occurred inside the walls of the castle except in Bronwyn’s office. With the door shut, he went through the list of castle guards. The figures he recorded on paper painted a grim picture. Farlan’s guess proved correct: Disregarding junior corporals, Bronwyn held the only rank above private amongst non-humans. The race ratio for the 665 privates equally surprised him. From his calculations, humans numbered 475, creating a majority. Dwarfs came in second at 116 with lower numbers for elves and hauflins, 51 and 23 respectively. If he had guessed at the numbers without actually consulting his files, he’d never have imagined the extreme unbalance.
He rubbed his forehead. As unbelievable as it seemed, the numbers spoke for themselves: humans had slowly taken over the position of authority at the castle.
A knock came at the door. Bronwyn folded the paper with the calculations and tucked it inside his shirt pocket. He closed his file folders and shoved them in the bottom drawer of his desk. “You may enter,” he called out as he pulled his day’s work in front of him.
The door opened, and an elf stuck his head inside. “May I speak with you a moment, sir?”
“Of course, Private Kelly. Come in and shut the door.” Bronwyn sat back in his chair and watched the young elf approach the desk. One of 51, he thought.
“I can stay but a moment, sir. I’m on my way to Sanderson’s office with this report.” Private Kelly held the paper in front of him. “I know this isn’t proper procedure…Forgive me. But I thought you’d want to know. She was an acquaintance of yours.”
He eyed the private. Who did he speak of?
“Maybe you should take a look.” Private Kelly handed him the paper and glanced at the door. “But I have only a minute.”
Bronwyn scanned the vital information in the incident report and gasped. The coach to Wandsworth had been attacked. The bandits had killed Finola of Mallaidh and another passenger.
He looked up at the private. “There’s no mention of the boy. The woman’s son accompanied her on the coach.”
“They delivered the survivors to Wandsworth. The boy survived and would be placed with relatives in the town.”
He tried to swallow, but the thoughts of Liam’s pain blocked his air passages.
“Sir, it’s my duty to deliver this report to Sanderson.” Private Kelly held out his hand.
Bronwyn handed back the paper. “Thank you for bringing it to me. I appreciate your thoughtfulness.” He watched the elf walk towards the door. “Again, thank you. I won’t mention this to anyone.”
The private nodded and slipped out of the room.
Bronwyn ran his hand through his hair and stared at the papers on his desk. They had lost their importance. He closed his eyes and rested his face in his hands. Liam had no one left. He had said it himself he didn’t know the aunt and uncle who Finola had planned to live with. The poor boy would be devastated. Maybe he could…no. Danger lurked in Maskil for Liam. Was Finola’s death connected to Lady Dasia’s murder, or could they be coincidence? He slammed his fist on the desk. He had to stop whoever caused these fatalities.
Shoving the chair from beneath him, he stood and walked out the door. He needed air, fresh air. He needed to think. This morning the office area buzzed with activity, leaving him nowhere to hide to find a minute’s peace. The North Tower. He’d go there. The tower provided a refuge for Sanderson when he needed to sneak away from the bustling guardhouse. Occasionally, Bronwyn found the captain of the guard reading or doing puzzles there. But Bronwyn wanted to do neither. He wanted to sit and think about the events of the past few days.
“Bronwyn.” Farlan ran up to him. “Alaura’s in trouble. I overheard two guards talking about her.”
“And?”
“She was arrested. They said she tried to run, but the guards dragged her to the dungeon.”
“Why?” He grimaced at the thought.
“They didn’t know. They heard shouting and looked down from their post on the wall to watch.” Farlan stepped away. “I have to get back to the wall. The guards said it happened over an hour ago, so she’d be locked up by now.”
At first, Bronwyn’s feet moved at a regular pace, but as he thought about Alaura in her weakened state in the cold dungeon with criminals, his steps quickened. By the time he reached the top of the stairs leading down to the lockup, he was running. He took the steps two at a time. At the bottom, he came to an abrupt stop as the guard tending the desk stepped in front of him.
“Sir.” The guard saluted. “What brings you here in a rush?”
“Alaura of Niamh. You brought her in earlier today.” Bronwyn gestured towards the passageway leading to the cells. “What was the charge?”
The private flipped through the forms for today’s arrests. “Here it is.” He handed the paper to him.
Bronwyn read the form. The guards had arrested her for Unauthorized Use of Magic. Although vague, it appeared she had used a spell within the walls of Maskil. She’d answer to the charges in five days. If bail failed to be posted and someone didn’t step up to act as custodian, she’d remain in the dungeon until that time.
“How much is the bail?” Bronwyn gripped the paper.
“Because this is a serious charge, bail is set at five silver.”
A month’s income, he thought. “I’ll sign for her. Hand me the form to have the money taken from my wage.” He quickly filled out the form and handed it back to the private. “Is this a new law?” He hadn’t worked in the dungeon for about eight years and remembered only the more common regulations.
“It’s an old law we never enforced. Since Lady Dasia’s murder, things have changed. The day after the inquest, Lord Landis called an assembly. He instructed us on how to handle some of the more obscure laws in the books. He said in these dire times, things like unauthorized magic use inside the walls of the town won’t be tolerated. Notices are being posted around town, so there is no excuse.” He pointed to a sign on the wall behind his desk.
Unauthorized use of magic within town walls is strictly prohibited. Punishment: three years in the dungeon.
Bronwyn caught his breath. What if they found Alaura guilty? In her fragile state she might not survive.
“Will you also be her custodian?”
Bronwyn nodded. As he filled out this form, the guard explained the regulations.
“You do understand you must know where she is at all times and swear she’ll be here five days from now to face the charges?”
“I do.”
“And if she fails to appear, you’ll lose the bail money and face the charges yourself?”
He stared at the guard. Although he had read the custodian regulations to others, he hadn’t realised how ridiculous they sounded. He didn’t possess magic, yet he’d be charged with unauthorized use? “I do.” He handed back the completed form.
“Private Denny!” The guard hollered down the passageway. A guard stepped out of one of the rooms off to the side.
“Yes, sir.”
“Escort the sergeant to cell twenty-four and release the prisoner into his custody.” He looked at Bronwyn. “Explain the custodial regulations to her so she’ll be clear about her obligations.”
Bronwyn followed Private Denny down the passageway to the cells. The underground dungeon felt cool on his skin; he had forgotten the temperature dipped this low. He recalled furthe
As they entered the dungeon, Bronwyn looked down the aisle leading to cell number twenty-four. He saw a small human with his face pressed betwixt the bars talking with a prisoner. In the dim light of the torches, the man’s identity couldn’t be determined. Then it dawned on him: Dugald, a man who claimed to be Alaura’s friend. He went out of his way to speak with her even when Bronwyn stood by her side. On-lookers who viewed Dugald and Alaura as they stood side-by-side on the street might think they made a wonderful couple. Bronwyn felt otherwise. He didn’t like Dugald’s shifty eyes, or the way he complimented Alaura or the way she smiled at the comments. Any time Bronwyn spoke poorly of Dugald, she rolled her eyes. Although the castle employed the man in some capacity, Brownyn didn’t trust him. He suspected that the slim-built human studied magic.
As Bronwyn neared, his suspicions proved correct. Dugald stood at Alaura’s cell. Her hands were wrapped around the steel bars; Dugald’s rested upon them. Bronwyn shoved his own hands into his pockets and gripped the yellowish stone Isla had given him. He took a deep breath and organised his thoughts. He’d remain calm.
“Excuse me, Dugald.” Bronwyn stopped beside the man and gave him an authoritative stare. The human measured about six inches taller than the dwarf, but Bronwyn stood firm. “I’m here to have Alaura released.” He glanced at her. She appeared to be under a great deal of distress. Then he focussed on her hands still held by Dugald.
“Excuse me, Sergeant, I am about to do the same.” Dugald puffed up his chest and glared down at him. “Since you and the rest of these guards seem to enjoy terrifying young women, I took it upon myself to see to Alaura’s safety.”
“I’m here now. I’ll take care of her.” Bronwyn gestured for Private Denny to unlock the cell. “She won’t need your services.”
“Let her be the judge.” Dugald looked to Alaura. “I’ll see you to your dwelling.”
“That won’t be necessary.” Bronwyn pulled open the cell door and motioned her forward. “Come with me, please.”
“And who says she’s safe with you?” Dugald released her. “No guards can be trusted these days. They’re rude and take advantage of their position.”
“You have poor respect for those in charge of your safety.” He grasped Alaura’s hand and guided her through the door.
“Alaura, what do you say?” asked Dugald. “Would you like me to accompany you to your dwelling?”
Before she had a chance to answer, Bronwyn spoke. “I told you that won’t be necessary. She’s coming with me.”
“Alaura?” Dugald gestured for her to follow him.
Bronwyn stepped between them. When he felt a slap on his shoulder, he looked around at her. “What?”
“I can speak for myself.” Alaura looked past him. “Dugald, thank you for coming and providing comfort. I appreciate your kindness.”
“Do you wish me to see you to your dwelling?”
Bronwyn waited for her answer. She frowned at him, but didn’t release his hand.
“Thank you, but I’ll stay with Bronwyn.”
“Are you positive, my dear?”
Alaura nodded.
“Very well.” Dugald glared at the dwarf. “If you feel safe with this boorish guard, I’ll do as you wish.”
“She does.” Bronwyn felt her squeeze his hand. When he looked, she frowned again.
Dugald left the dungeon, and Private Denny followed.
Once out of ear shot, Alaura pulled him to face her. “Jealousy doesn’t become you.”
“It doesn’t feel good either.”
“Then let’s leave it for those too immature to know it’s unproductive.”
Bronwyn didn’t answer. Under the circumstances, his actions were justified. Movement to one side caught his attention. A prisoner in the cell next to Alaura’s watched them. “Come with me, please. I need to speak with you.”
With Dugald out of the way, his thoughts returned to Liam and his meeme. The news would devastate Alaura. His grip on her hand softened. He passed a private, a dwarf, one of 116, leading a prisoner to a cell. The insecure feelings for his position at the castle resurfaced.
Alaura stumbled as they climbed the stairs.
Bronwyn caught her. “I’m sorry. I’m walking too fast.” He placed a reassuring arm around her waist and guided her to the top. When he turned towards the office area of the guardhouse, she pulled away.
“I want to leave,” she said.
“I need to talk with you. It’ll take only a minute.” He held both of her hands. Her eyes darted about, looking past him, peering down hallways. “What’s wrong?” When their eyes met, he thought she might cry.
“I don’t…I don’t want to see him.” Her voice shook.
“See who?”
Alaura leant close. “Lord Val. I can’t face him.”
Bronwyn watched her lips tremble. The same lips he had almost kissed earlier today needed soothing. “Alaura.” His voice softened, and he caressed her hands. “He doesn’t come down here. Well, not often. My office is not far. You’ll be secure there. I’ll keep you only a minute then escort you from the castle.”
She searched his face looking for what he thought to be courage to stay. He pulled her hands to his chest, drawing her near. “Trust me.”
“I trust you, but others worry me.” She caught her breath. Her fingers tightened around his hands. “I’m frightened.”
“I understand.” He decided to guard the news about Liam and his meeme until she felt stronger. “Tell me what happened this morning. I thought you had gone to Moon Meadow.”
“I was on my way.”
Someone passing brushed against Alaura. Bronwyn felt her shiver. Looking around, he remembered the bustling of the area this morning. It had triggered his need for privacy and the reason he had aimed for the North Tower when he met Farlan. “Come with me to my office. We can be alone.” He gently guided her along the hallway.
A moment later, Bronwyn shut the door to his office. He helped Alaura into a seat and pulled another chair near to sit in front of her. Their knees folded into each other. “So you were on your way to Moon Meadow. What stopped you from leaving Maskil?”
Her hands wrapped around his as she recalled the events of the morning. “I left the bakery and almost reached the gates when I heard a woman scream. I looked down an alley and saw a large man with a sword about to strike another man. The unkempt man appeared to be a type of henchman.”
“The man being struck?”
“No. The large man with the sword. The woman screamed for someone to save her mate. He looked like a shop owner. I felt too weak to cast a spell to disarm the henchman, so instead I attempted to protect the shop owner. I threw a Light Spell, blinding the henchman temporarily. I went to assist the woman who helped her mate to his feet. That’s when…” Alaura stopped and stared at her hands. “That’s when they grabbed me.”
“Who grabbed you?”
“Castle guards. They pinned me against the wall.” Her voice weakened and her hands shook. “They recited a law about unauthorized use of magic. They said I’d be taken to the dungeon.” She looked up at him, tears welling in her eyes. “I was terrified. I…I couldn’t go to the castle. I panicked. I tried to push them away, escape out the town gates, but they forced me to come with them. I saved the man’s life, yet they sought to punish me.”
Bronwyn leant forward and pulled her into his arms.
“What’s going on, Bronwyn? When I first came to Maskil, users of the craft practised uninhibited in the streets. I remember watching shows near the theatre. They performed simple spells, ones to hone their abilities. I haven’t seen them for a long time.”
“There’s a law prohibiting unauthorized use of magic within the town walls
“What happens if I’m found guilty?” She pulled away to look into his face.
The truth to the question stuck in his throat. His mouth tried to move, but it froze as he gazed into her frightened eyes. He wiped away her tear with his thumb. “You won’t be. I’ll personally see to it.” His thumb lingered near her lips. He longed to kiss them but hesitated. Instead, he leant forward and pressed his cheek against hers and savoured the softness of her skin. He felt her fingers brush against his lips, awakening sensitive nerves. They caressed his cheek then moved to his neck. Their warmth stirred sensations he wished to satisfy. He pulled her into his arms again, resting her head on his shoulder. She wouldn’t spend three years in a dungeon.
“I want you to warn your friends, your magic user friends, immediately. Tell Catriona. I can help you, but I can’t protect all of them.”
“Bronwyn.” Alaura’s voice, soft against his skin, pricked his hairs. “Thank you for being here for me. I’m afraid to think of where I might be if not for you.” She pulled away to look into his eyes. “I never expected you to become someone so special to me, a friend so dear.”
He sighed. The rapture radiating across her cheek bones and into her eyes aroused the emotions that had idled for her all these years. He savoured the touch of her fingers on his cheek, the smell emanating from her skin and the sound of her gentle breathing. “Alaura, I feel the same way about you. In truth.” He paused to gather courage. “My blood burns for you. It has for a long time.” Her smile confirmed what he thought; she shared these feelings.
Unable to restrain his desires, he brought his lips to hers. The first tender kiss added fuel to the fire raging in his blood. Her lips felt soft, forthcoming and as sweet as dew-soaked clover. The second kiss lasted longer and probed deeper. He forgot where he sat and the tragic events of the past few days.
At first, Alaura hesitated, but then like one who had not tasted food for several days, devoured his lips. Her fingers entangled in his shirt, and she held him closer. Her bosom heaved and her firm breasts pressed against his chest.
Bronwyn caressed her shoulders then explored her back with his fingertips. One hand slid to her belly and traced the line of buttons on the front of her dress. He quivered when he felt her massaging his thighs, inching closer to his buttocks. He pulled nearer. Through hazy vision, he realised they occupied his office. He kissed her again, cupping her face and stilling the urges to unbutton her dress. Every bone in his body wanted to be alone with her in his quarters.
When their lips parted, she pulled him into her arms, planting tender kisses on his cheek, his ear and neck. He felt their breathing fall into rhythm; it felt as though they drew the same breath. Exhaling at the same moment, their energies mixed, were gathered again and shared.
He heard her mumble something but couldn’t make out what she said. She clung so tight, he thought she might never let go. He listened closer when she spoke again in a low voice.
“I want you. I’ll always want you.”
Although he didn’t want her to pull away, she did. Alaura stared at him with eyes filled with unshed tears. “I’ll think of you always, Bronwyn Darrow. Regardless of where life takes us, you’ll always be dear to me. Promise me you’ll remember this.”
“Where life takes us? Alaura, what do you mean?”
“Promise me.”
“But—”
“Bronwyn, please.”
“I do. I promise, but—”
“I must go. Beathas will be worried. And…”—she looked at the door—“I shouldn’t be here.”
Reluctantly, he rose with her in his arms. He wanted to talk more, but he’d wait until later. “I’ll escort you to the town gates. Can I see you tonight?” As he spoke, he opened the door to find Lord Mulryan staring back at him.
“What’s she doing here?” Lord Mulryan glared at Alaura.
“She’s with me.” Bronwyn stepped forward, keeping himself between Alaura and the lord.
“This is a restricted area. Given her craft, she’s not permitted here.” Lord Mulryan pointed to the exit. “Get her out of here.”
“Does this mean Lords Val, Tasgall and Nevell are also banned from this area? They use magic?” Bronwyn braced his jaw. Challenging a lord meant going against protocol. Still, he didn’t understand the banning of magic within Maskil. Though he had no use for it, he knew many who did.
Lord Mulryan eyed him. “Are you questioning our security regulations?”
“I question the legitimacy of this law which bans unauthorized use of magic within the town walls. I’ve served this castle for fourteen years, spending three of those working in the dungeon, and I have never arrested anyone for breaking this law, though I saw many citizens use magic. Why now?” Bronwyn watched the lord search his memories.
“The law has always been on the books. These magic users have taken advantage of our good nature. It’s time they’re put in their place.”
“Many of these magic users are our friends and family.” Bronwyn couldn’t remember Lord Mulryan’s family, if he had one, but surely he had friends who practised the craft.
“Piffle. We don’t make exceptions because of personal relations. This creature”—he pointed at Alaura—“can be charged as equally as a stranger if she defies the laws. And you”—he dug his finger into Bronwyn’s chest—“are loyal to this castle, not her and her sorcery. As a dwarf, your personal honour is at stake. It’s your duty to arrest her if you witness such an act. Do I make myself clear?”
Bronwyn glanced at Alaura. Their worlds were colliding, leaving them as helpless observers. Still, something gnawed at his instinct. This law, which had supposedly existed for years, felt wrong. Magic and the sword intertwined, and both played an intricate part of Aruam Castle and Maskil. His parents’ business thrived because of those who practised magic. The shop had operated long before his birth. If the original laws banned magic, why did the business survive? Why did so many users of the craft live here?
“You’re wrong, My Lord. This law can’t exist. It didn’t exist when Maskil came to be, and it doesn’t exist now.”
Lord Mulryan leant back and gawked at him. “Sergeant, you cannot decide which laws to apply and which to ignore. You’ll do as you’re ordered and that’s final.”
“I won’t.” Bronwyn gripped Alaura’s hand as much for courage as to reassure her. Its warmth helped clear his mind and steady his nerves. “This is wrong. I won’t stand here and pretend it’s right. In the history of Maskil, magic played a significant role.” He remembered this from his lessons more than a decade ago. He had forgotten the fact until now. In the back of his mind, he heard Glynn Dasia’s voice. She had tried to warn him about this unseen threat. He hadn’t felt the disruption in the energy, the threat upon his spirit she spoke of, until now. “Magic built Maskil as equally as the sword. To say our founders banned magic is a mistake. To say it has no place in Maskil will lead to more unrest, more chaos. I can feel it; it’s in the air. We need magic if—”
“Sergeant, mind what you speak. Your words could be considered treason.”
“No, they speak the truth.”
Lord Mulryan grabbed him by the front of his vest and jerked him forward. “Listen to me.” Their faces were close enough for Bronwyn to feel the lord’s breath on his cheek. “Dwarfs like us maintain a high level of honour and obedience, or they don’t remain in this castle. Don’t let your ignorance of this law and your lust for that”—again, he gestured towards Alaura with his chin—“make you do something foolish you’ll regret. You’re a good man, but she’s leading you down a trail you shouldn’t tread. Do I make myself clear enough now?”
Bronwyn swallowed hard. Maybe he did overstep his bounds. “Yes, sir.”
“Good.” Lord Mulryan released him. “I’d hate to rip that insignia from your uniform for something as senseless as this.” He turned an
Bronwyn released his breath, but jumped when he noticed Sanderson standing five feet away, staring at him with his arms crossed. An unpleasant feeling erupted in his stomach. He feared Sanderson’s reprimand more than the lord’s. He doubted he’d be sat on his knee and spoken to as kindly as Isla earlier in the day. “Sir.” His mouth went dry. “I was about to—”
“Step into your office.” Sanderson pointed to the door.
Bronwyn cast a concerned glance at Alaura as he released her hand.
She watched him walk into the room with Sanderson hard on his heels. The large man slammed the door in her face without giving her a second thought.
Alaura stared at the slab of wood separating her from Bronwyn. She wanted to run from the castle, but feared she’d put him in an awkward position with his superiors. She hadn’t asked him to argue her point, but she felt responsible for the trouble it brought.
The thick wooden door absorbed most of the conversation taking place behind it, but it couldn’t contain everything said in Sanderson’s booming voice.
“You let the half-breed steal your senses!”
Alaura stepped back. Sanderson spoke frankly in his own authoritative way.
“This has gone on too long! She’s destroying your career!”
Was she ruining his career? Had he extended himself past the acceptable position because of her? It shocked her that he’d talk to a lord in such a manner, but since she didn’t know castle business, she believed the disagreement to be typical. Bronwyn’s career meant everything to him. A dishonourable discharge would devastate him.
Alaura continued to listen to the bits and pieces of conversation penetrating the door.
“Is Sanderson reprimanding Bronwyn?”
Alaura jumped. She looked and found Riagan standing beside her. She disliked the dwarf but for the moment stayed put.
“Bronwyn deserves better than this,” said Riagan. “He’s a good man who’ll rise in the ranks, maybe even to captain of the guard.” She watched Alaura. “If only nothing in his life plays against it.”
The door flew open. Sanderson stared at the startled women. His eyes settled on Alaura, and he glared down at her “Why don’t you do what’s best for this man instead of thinking of yourself?” Sanderson pushed them aside and walked away.
Alaura wrung her hands as she peeked in the half-open door and saw Bronwyn sitting in a chair with his head down, the same chair she’d sat in while he comforted her. They had endured much together, had an intimacy she’d wished against, but somehow, regardless of the affections they held for each other, it had to end. Her inability to commit to a relationship jeopardised his position as a guard. She hadn’t realised it affected his work in a negative way; he never said anything. She wore the blame for remaining too long in Maskil. She should have made the painful decision to leave long ago. The hurts would have healed by now.
Alaura stepped away from the door.
After moving several feet, Riagan caught her arm. “Aren’t you going to console him?”
Alaura shook her head. “I’m going to do what’s best for both of us.” She pulled her arm free and hurried away.