We buried her underneath the willow,” Renn said, as he and Cam stopped just a few paces from the canopy of a large tree. Beneath it lay a cairn of stones. “Alvior couldn’t be bothered, and Father didn’t seem to care. So I came, with Gav, the groundskeeper, and we buried her. The servants came. They loved her. We made sure it was done right.”
Cam looked at his mother’s grave. “You were nine.”
A pained expression crossed Renn’s face. “I grew up pretty quickly after you and Carina left. Losing Mother was only part of it.”
“I’m sorry I wasn’t here to help.”
Renn’s laugh was short and harsh. “It’s Father’s fault, and Alvior’s. Not yours. If Father hadn’t sent you away, I don’t think Mother would have died. It seemed like the fight went out of her when Father forced you and Carina to leave.”
“What happened to Gav?”
Renn looked from the willow out across the sea. From this hilltop, Cam could see where the gray water met the horizon. “He stayed on for a while after Father died. But I got the feeling that he didn’t like Alvior. He said he wasn’t well and left Brunnfen to go live with his daughter.”
Cam nodded, still staring out to sea. “Do you think that was the real reason?”
Renn shrugged. “I don’t know. A lot of the servants just vanished-and while Alvior might have harmed one or two, I don’t think he killed them all. You knew him. He was miserable. I think the servants went back to their farms or families rather than deal with him. Hell, if I’d had anywhere else to go, I’d have joined them.”
“I’m sorry for that, too.”
Renn laid a hand on Cam’s shoulder. “It’s time to stop apologizing for what you couldn’t control, Cam. From what you’ve said, you and Carina had your hands full staying alive. And look at you, King’s Champion. Carina helped to put Tris Drayke on the Margolan throne. None of that would have happened if you’d stayed here. Truth is, I could have run away if I’d have really set my mind to it.” He chuckled. “Probably could have learned to be a tinker, or something useful. But I didn’t, and that was my own fault. So stop apologizing. The important thing is, you came back.”
Cam looked back from the sea to the cairn. “I have to leave again, you know.”
Renn nodded. “I know.” He grinned. “Now tell me the truth-it’s not just the king. Your bride-to-be is waiting.” He paused. “Which reminds me. While you and Rhistiart were out riding the fields, a messenger came from the palace. Brought you a packet from the king and a sealed envelope that looked like a lady’s handwriting. I meant to tell you at breakfast this morning and forgot. It’s on the desk in the study.” He paused. “So… what’s the new lady of the manor like? Don’t tell me she’s one of those porcelain doll aristocrats.”
It was Cam’s turn to laugh. “Rhosyn? Hardly. Oh, she’s got a pretty face and curves that would stop a runaway wagon in its tracks, but she can also carry a full sack of hops without straining. She’s got the only pedigree I value-she’s the daughter of the head of the local Brewers Guild.” He looked toward Brunnfen and sobered. “What she’d make of this place, I don’t know.”
“Rhistiart said that she’s a spitfire. And he said her father offered you a place at the brewery if you decided to stop soldiering.” Renn looked to Cam expectantly. “Would you take it?”
Cam shrugged. “There was a long time when I thought that would be a perfect job when I got too busted up to soldier. But from what Rhistiart and I saw of the grain crop, and from the unofficial survey we made of alehouses in town,” he added, clearing his throat, “I think that a good brewery would do well here. It couldn’t brew worse than the cow piss they sell for ale down in the village.”
Renn laughed. “You’ve tried the local brew then?”
Cam made a face. “The pond scum that the Divisionists gave me to drink wasn’t as bad as that ‘ale.’ Actually, that’s where Rhistiart is right now. I sent him to scout for a good location to build a pub in town and to do some investigating about the local Merchants Guild.” He looked at Renn conspiratorially. “The ale-brewing business wouldn’t be such a bad way to refill Brunnfen’s coffers, either. If Rhosyn could get her father to loan us a brew master, I’m sure Donelan would give us the title of ‘king’s favorite ale.’ And a tavern makes money year-round-rain, snow, or shine.”
“All joking aside, I’d love for you and Rhosyn to settle here-and Rhistiart, too.”
“You know, for a guy who was on the run a few months ago, Rhistiart’s luck just keeps getting better and better,” Cam replied. “A vayash moru silversmith in Dark Haven gave him an offer as an apprentice, and now, he’s on his way to becoming manager of an alehouse. Plus, I wouldn’t put it past Donelan to offer him a silversmith position at the palace. Getting captured by the Divisionists was the best thing that ever happened to him.”
Cam sobered and grew silent, watching the tall grass blow in the wind beside the cairn. “I’m sorry that mother didn’t live to find out that Carina and I ended up all right. And I’m so sorry that she won’t see her granddaughters.”
“Carina is having twin girls?” Renn grinned broadly. “When you said twins, I assumed a boy and a girl, like you and Carina. Yes, you’re right. Mother would have loved that.” He grew pensive. “You know, there were years when I was angry at everyone after you left. I was angry at Mother for abandoning me and leaving me on my own with Father and Alvior. I was angry at Father and Alvior, and I was angry that you and Carina didn’t take me with you.”
Cam glanced sideways at him. “You were a little young to sign up as a merc. Hell, if I hadn’t been half the size of a mountain, they wouldn’t have believed it when I lied about my age.”
“I didn’t say it made sense. I just said I was angry.” Renn sighed. “I spent a lot of time out here, talking to Mother. And while I can’t see spirits like your friend King Drayke, I don’t really think she ever left Brunnfen. Sometimes, I can sense her in the manor house. It’s particularly strong on the balcony in her room. She would stand there, just staring out at the horizon. I always thought she was hoping she’d see you coming home.”
“You don’t know how often Carina and I thought about it,” Cam replied. “Carina’s first love was a mercenary, Ric. Ric and his older brother, Gregor, ran the merc outfit we signed on with. Ric once offered to lay siege to Brunnfen to avenge Carina.”
“Really? What happened?”
The memory made Cam smile. “It was a very nice idea, except that we were based in Principality and we couldn’t figure out how to get the mercs to Isencroft without accidentally starting a war with Margolan.” He grew wistful. “And then Ric died in a border skirmish and Carina nearly died trying to save him. That’s how I ended up at the palace, you know. The Sisterhood took Carina to see if they could heal her. She went too deep when she tried to save Ric’s life and it was like she couldn’t find her way back. I didn’t know what to do. Gregor was furious that Carina couldn’t save Ric, and he threw us out. I had nowhere to go-again. I knew that we were distant cousins to the king, so I rode to the palace. One day, I just showed up on Donelan’s doorstep and claimed a blood-bond right to serve him.”
Renn’s eyes were wide. “What did he do?”
“Donelan came thumping down the stairs to see what was going on, and he recognized me right away as Father’s son. Seems he’d heard about what Father did and didn’t like it. So he took me in and put me in the Veigonn, his personal guard.”
The manor house tower tolled tenth bells. “I’d better get back and see that the supplies I ordered came in, or we’ll be eating nothing but parsnips and beets,” Renn said with a glance over his shoulder. “Are you coming?”
Cam shook his head. “I’ll be up. I want to stay for a while longer.”
“Don’t wait too long-I can’t promise how much lunch will be left if you’re slow!”
Cam waited until Renn had climbed back up the rocky footpath to the manor before he walked a few steps to a patch of wildflowers and picked a handful. He returned to lay them atop the cairn, and bent to retrieve a small rock, which he added to the rest of the pile. Cam laid a hand on the rock tomb and closed his eyes.
“I don’t know whether or not you’re still here,” he said quietly. “If you are, I know the dead can hear the living. I’m sorry for the grief I caused you. Sorry I wasn’t here to protect Renn. Sorry I couldn’t stand up to Alvior-or Father. I want you to know: Carina and I never stopped thinking about you. We wrote letters, but I guess Alvior or Father made sure they didn’t get through. If you can hear me, then I just want to tell you that everything’s all right. And Carina and I love you.”
An unseasonably cool breeze tousled Cam’s unruly curls. For a few seconds, he thought he saw something shimmer in the air, although the day was not warm enough to see heat rise from the ground. There was no sound, but in that instant, Cam felt a warmth and comfort slip over him, there and gone, that made him suspect that his comments had been heard. He did not try to choke back the tears that streamed down his face. And if the ghost saw, Cam was certain that she understood.
When he had regained his composure, Cam walked back to the trail that led from the manor down to the shore. He turned away from Brunnfen and found himself heading down the path he had taken so often as a boy. Then, like now, he found consolation in the sound of the waves and the fresh spray. His thoughts were a jumble as he walked. When he shook himself out of his brooding, Cam found himself far down the rocky beach, at the base of the cliff that formed Brunnfen’s foundation. He looked out across the water toward the long dock where Asmarr, his father, had kept the boat he loved to take out onto the bay for fishing. Farther out, the bay was quite deep, but silt had filled in along the coastline, and so the pier extended far out from shore. Years ago, large ships could lay anchor in the inlet, and rumor had it that the first lords of Brunnfen had been smugglers. It would be difficult for more than a couple of small boats to come into shore now.
Movement on the pier caught Cam’s eye, and although the day was warm, Cam felt his blood turn to ice. Standing on the dock was his father’s ghost.
Cam’s eyes widened and he felt his heart begin to thud. Asmarr did not seem to see him. Cam watched as his father went through the motions of untying a boat, although there was no boat moored on the dock. Suddenly, Asmarr’s ghost staggered, falling backward as if he had been pushed by an unseen hand. Before the ghost could catch his balance, he staggered again, clutching his head before collapsing. Unseen hands rolled the body off the pier and into the water. Cam watched in horror and remembered something. Asmarr couldn’t swim.
Before Cam could gather his thoughts, the air around him began to stir, and he felt a touch on his shoulder. He spun around to find Asmarr staring at him. The ghost on the dock had been translucent. But the apparition that stood in front of Cam might have passed for a living man had Cam not known that his father was dead. Asmarr’s face was set in a determined glower, and he reached out with both hands, giving Cam a hard shove toward the pier.
Cam tried to step around the ghost. “I didn’t come back here to fight you, Father. You’re dead. It’s over.”
Asmarr blocked his path, shoving him again down the beach. Cam felt his anger rise.
“You’re dead. Your favorite son, Alvior, murdered you. And you still can’t let it go, can you? You can’t accept that I’m back, when you hated me and Carina just for being what we were. Well, I’m not leaving. You threw me out once. You’re not running me off again.”
Asmarr’s expression darkened, and the ghost seemed to grow in size, becoming more solid. A hail of rocks suddenly flew through the air at Cam, pelting him from the direction of the path. Cam spotted a second trail at the far end of the beach. It was on the other side of the dock, but it was the only way back to the manor without winding through the caves. As another shower of rocks flew toward him, Cam began to sprint to the second path.
Rocks struck him on the shoulders and back, and Cam realized that Asmarr’s fury had not abated. The rocks came from the inland side of the beach, and Cam found himself being driven toward the water.
“It’s not enough that Mother died, you want to kill me, too?” Cam shouted. He was sore where the rocks had struck him, and he could feel blood running down the side of his head.
Asmarr’s ghost launched itself at Cam, moving to block his escape. Cam drew his sword and brought the blade down with a killing slice that would have cleaved a living man from shoulder to hip. The blade passed harmlessly through the ghost’s form. Cam swung at Asmarr, and it felt as if his fist hit something solid, though not quite human. Dropping his sword, Cam began to pummel the ghost, all the while realizing that Asmarr was, slowly but surely, forcing him down the pier. He wondered if Asmarr meant to push him into the water, and if that happened, whether the ghost could hold him under. He didn’t want to find out.
The Divisionists did their best to drown me. Goddess! I have no desire to die like that at Father’s hand.
Cam rained blow after blow down on the ghost, but Asmarr’s expression was determined. If the ghost felt the punches, it gave no sign, although Cam knew they would have felled a mortal. Broad-shouldered and ham-fisted, Cam had held his own in enough bar fights and battles to know how to throw a punch. In life, Asmarr could never have withstood Cam’s strikes. Now, Cam knew he was losing the fight.
Near the end of the pier, Asmarr’s eyes glinted with something akin to madness. Cam suddenly felt as if someone had thrown a boulder at him, as an invisible force pushed him to his knees. He was sweating hard, fighting the ghost’s power, as he fell to all fours on the dock. Something forced his head down, so that his gaze went into the water.
And then Cam knew. Asmarr wasn’t trying to kill him.
Asmarr was warning him.
Someone had dredged the inlet.
“I see! Get the hell off me!”
Immediately, the ghost released him. Cam gasped for breath as the force that had held him down disappeared. Cam staggered to his feet. “You never had any tact when you were alive,” he grumbled, straightening his shirt. “Why should I be surprised that you have none now that you’re dead?” For the first time, as he looked around the inlet, he saw something that had not been there before. He looked back at the ghost.
“What are those posts sunk into the rock?”
Asmarr’s ghost pointed out to sea.
Cam frowned. “They’re meant to moor boats-a lot of them. That’s it, isn’t it?”
Asmarr nodded.
Cam looked down the cliffs at the long line of posts, and then out to sea. “He wouldn’t need that many to tether small boats from supply ships.” The only reason was one that made Cam shudder. “Men. The boats wouldn’t be for cargo. They’d be carrying troops from larger ships beyond the inlet. Alvior intended Brunnfen to be a staging area for an invasion.”
Asmarr stood a few paces away. A pained expression had replaced the dogged determination of a few minutes before, and it was the closest thing Cam had ever seen to remorse on his father’s face.
“Alvior did this?”
The ghost nodded.
“He meant to bring a fleet here to challenge the king?”
Again, Asmarr’s ghost nodded.
Cam let out a creatively obscene curse and stood staring at the water, his hands on his hips.
“That probably means he’s coming back, doesn’t it?” Cam began to pace on the pier. “It’s late summer, so he’s got a few months until the ice starts to build. It’s already been close to seven months since he disappeared. So the question is, will he strike before winter or wait until spring?”
Asmarr pointed to the trees, and brought his hands down through the air, fingers moving.
“He’s coming back when the leaves fall,” Cam said. “Damn! I wish Tris Drayke were here to interpret. I hate guessing games.” He bit his lip as he thought. “Maybe we can make it expensive for him.”
He looked up to see Asmarr watching him. “Will you let me pass now that I’ve seen what you wanted to show me?”
Asmarr nodded. Cam shouldered past the ghost, and then stopped. He turned back. “Thank you,” he said quietly. “I don’t imagine you’re pleased that I came back. I suppose you showed me this because, despite throwing Carina and me out of the manor, you were always loyal to Donelan. But whether you like it or not, I won’t be run out of Brunnfen again. I’ll stay or leave on my terms this time.” He grinned. “And I just might be able to get Tris to visit and send you to the Lady if you don’t agree to cooperate. Understand?”
Asmarr did not move, but his eyes gave Cam to believe that the ghost did hear him. “Good. Now you can go back to haunting the bay if you’d like. I’ve got work to do.”
Cam sprinted back up the trail toward Brunnfen. His head was spinning, both from the encounter with his father’s ghost and from the new evidence of Alvior’s further treachery. Brunnfen loomed high above him, dark and forbidding on its perch above the Northern Sea.
Asmarr’s ghost wasn’t the first to haunt Brunnfen, and it wasn’t likely to be the last. Cam slowed as he crossed the threshold. Portraits of long-dead-but not really departed-ancestors seemed to glare down at him, sharing his father’s disapproval. It had taken him years to understand that not everyone’s family history was quite as tragic or blood-soaked as the tales of the lords of Brunnfen.
Grandfather Gierolf, who had gone mad and murdered a dozen servants and his own wife believing himself beset by dimonns. Great-grandmother Nessa, who had immolated herself and her children in a rage over her husband’s infidelity. Asmarr’s brother, Raynor, who murdered his eldest son in a blind rage over spoiled wine. A great-uncle who had locked an unfaithful wife away in an oubliette beneath the lowest wine cellar. Insanity and violence were the heritage of Brunnfen’s heirs. Cam had never felt the weight of his heritage so oppressively as he did now.
“M’lord, breakfast is ready.” Haulden, the steward, was one of the servants Renn had cajoled into returning to the manor.
“Where’s Renn?”
“He ate quickly and said he needed to see to accounts in town. Said to tell you he’d probably spend the night at the inn and be back late tomorrow.” Haulden took in Cam’s disheveled appearance. “Is there something wrong?”
“How many able-bodied men do we have on the manor grounds? Men who could do hard work.”
Haulden thought for a moment. “Not so many as when your father ran the holding. Counting the men who are in the fields, about three dozen. A few more, if you take the older boys from the stable.”
“Unless you want Alvior back in charge, get me every man with a strong back you can find. Tell them to bring chains and axes.”
Haulden’s eyes widened. “You intend to fight?”
“I intend to change the rules of Alvior’s game. When he comes back with his ships, we’ll have a surprise waiting for him.”
“What in the name of the Eight Faces do you think you’re doing?” Renn’s voice carried across the water. Cam and three other men were shirtless in the late-summer heat, putting their combined strength into shoving a huge tree stump from a raft into the harbor.
“Stopping Alvior from coming back,” Cam grunted.
Renn ran out on the pier until he was across from where the raft floated. “Who told you he was coming back?”
“Father-or at least, his ghost.”
Renn looked from Cam to the flurry of activity. Along the forest’s edge, men felled trees and loaded them into wagons. Near the water’s edge, teams of men bound the trunks together into spiked balls, with as many limbs as possible protruding to snag unwary navigators. Horses and a brace of oxen dragged the snares to the water. From the end of the pier, two men fed a heavy chain down to others who dove into the inlet’s chilly waters. Along the beach, the stablehands were busy fashioning barricades from smaller trees and thorned bushes. There were even men on the roof of Brunnfen, hauling logs by pulleys up to a flat area. Barely visible at the edge of the beach stood Asmarr’s ghost, watching.
“What are you building on the roof of the manor house?” Renn shouted to Cam.
“A watchtower. We’ll keep it manned at all times, change it out in shifts. If boats approach, whoever’s up there will show a lantern and ring a bell. We’ll send a rider out to Captain Lange. He’s based at the outpost about a candlemark’s ride from here. They’ll be the first reinforcements.”
“And you know Lange will come-why?”
“Because Cam asked me.” The voice came from behind Renn, who turned sharply to see a broad-shouldered man with a fighter’s build coming up behind him.
Cam’s raft drew up alongside the pier and Cam hopped off. “Renn, meet Captain Lange. Lange, this is my brother, Renn.”
Lange extended his hand to Renn, who shook it dubiously. “Dammit, Cam. I leave for a day and you tear the place apart,” Renn said.
“I sent a rider down to warn Lange yesterday morning, as soon as I realized what Alvior had done,” Cam said, using a rag to mop the sweat that matted his hair against his head. “We’ve been on a campaign or two together in the past.”
“Or three or four,” Lange added dryly. “It’s not every day the King’s Champion sends a rider to see if you can free up a few men to keep a foreign navy from landing in your own backyard.”
Cam grinned. “So Lange came, and he brought a couple dozen of his men with him. Together with the servants, we’ve done a decent job of snaring the harbor and making the beach unfriendly. Which means that if Alvior and his friends do come back, they’ll be hung up on the snares or stuck at the mouth to the bay, where we can hammer away at him with the trebuchets Captain Lange is so helpfully going to provide.”
“Damn,” Renn said again. He paused and looked back at Cam. “Wait a second… Father told you about Alvior?”
Both Renn and Lange listened intently as Cam recounted his struggle with the ghost. When he was done, Renn shook his head.
“I’d meant to warn you not to come down to the beach alone. I’d seen Father’s ghost once, but I got my ass out of here before he had the chance to get closer, and I’ve been wearing an amulet ever since then to keep ghosts away.” Renn pulled a silver pendant from beneath his shirt. “Knowing Father, I figured that he wouldn’t let being dead get in the way of a good beating. I’m sorry. If I’d been braver, I might have had the warning sooner.”
Cam snorted. “I’d have run for it myself if he hadn’t been throwing so many damn rocks at my head. Don’t blame yourself. Father was his usual, charming self. He’s angry that Alvior betrayed him, and maybe that Alvior betrayed the king. That doesn’t mean Father’s sorry about what he did to either of us.” He gave an unpleasant smile. “But if Alvior does come back, I hope he gets close enough for Father to throw a couple of big rocks at his head, just for good measure.” He paused. “What do you know about the posts sunk into the rock?”
Renn shrugged. “Don’t know for sure, but I’ll tell you my suspicions. They weren’t here when Father was alive. They suddenly appeared about the time Alvior started to get his ‘visitors.’ At first, there were just a few, and I figured they were for those ships. All the others were put in while I was locked in the dungeon. I’ve asked among the servants, but the men who sank the posts for Alvior either fled or disappeared.”
“Father seemed to agree with me, that they had to be for invading ships.”
Renn nodded. “That’s my guess.”
“Lange’s offered to post some men here at Brunnfen to protect you,” Cam added.
“From Father?”
Cam shook his head. “Now that we have more of an idea of what Alvior is planning, I’ve got to get back to Aberponte and warn Donelan. I can get there as fast as any messenger. It’s bad enough that Alvior has a dark mage-maybe even a dark summoner-on his side. Whoever’s backing him has some kind of navy or Alvior wouldn’t have gone to all the trouble to prepare the bay. The next move is going to be big, and unfortunately, Brunnfen’s going to be right on the front line.”
Cam paused and met Renn’s eyes. “It’s your choice. I’m not going to billet troops in your home without your consent. But I’d really like you to consider it.”
Renn looked from Lange to Cam. “Alvior’s the one who threw me in the dungeon and starved me, remember? Billet all the troops you want-only mind that they bring their own food, because we don’t have that much to spare.” He grinned. “Think you can get that alehouse of yours started before you leave? Soldiers like their ale, after all.”
“I’ll see what I can do about that.” He sobered. “Thank you, Renn. For everything. I’m sorry that I have to leave.”
Renn shrugged. “You’re the King’s Champion. And at least you’re not leaving me on my own. Alvior was none too popular in the village. I would be surprised if we couldn’t round up a militia if we put out the word that he might be back. Folks out here aren’t sophisticated, but they’re loyal to the king. And they don’t like strangers.”
“When Donelan hears about it, he might send a regiment or two to back you up. I’m starting to wonder what else is going on, and whether this is bigger than just Alvior.” Cam rubbed the stump of his severed finger, the one he lost to the Divisionists. “When I was captured by the Divisionists, Ruggs and Leather John said Alvior had been paying their bills. But Alvior didn’t have the money to build a navy. So my question is… Whose navy is it? I’d like to know that.”
“Before we fight them,” added Lange.