By Sealie
Genfic
Rating: kid safe
Spoilers: none ‘cos it’s part of the Chronicles of Acharn Universe (AU fantasy).
Beta: appallingly, I can’t remember. I don’t think that I could find one.
Indulgent, kid ficcy stuff.
Sect
of the Sentinel.
By
Sealie
“You’re
going to be twenty one, aren’t you, Jim?” Prince Blair clambered onto the
stable stall wall and perched.
“Yes.”
Laird Jamie continued to groom his warhorse, Pern,
only sparing a fragment of his attention on the tiny prince. “Why
the interest?”
“‘Cause
it’s special, isn’t it?” Blair said guilelessly, his big blue eyes wide.
Jamie
focused on Pern and concentrated on grooming his
horse to shiny perfection. “Not really, the Heir to the
“I
thought that you were already a sentinel?” Blair asked, confused. His round
face scrunched up and his thoughts scrolled across his face for all to read.
The laird had saved the prince when the royal family had been threatened by the
Goblin Queen years earlier. In response to that dire threat menacing the
“See,”
Jamie easily followed Blair’s thoughts, “it isn’t any different to any other
birthday. I’m already a sentinel.”
“Humph,”
Blair grumbled, and Jamie finally looked at him. The prince was all prepared to
help him in the stables; he wore his oldest, most threadbare clothes. He held a
curry brush in his hands and twisted it miserably.
“What?”
Jamie set Pern’s comb aside and moseyed over to lean
next to Blair’s perch.
“If
I hadn’t got into trouble, this would have been special for you, wouldn’t it,”
he said miserably.
“It
wasn’t you. It was the Goblin Queen,” Jamie countered immediately.
“So,”
Blair began with all the guile that a nearly nine year old could possess. “The
Goblin Queen made your birthday not special? Oh dear, that’s not fair.”
Laird
Jamie raised a chastising eyebrow. Blair wriggled caught halfway between
laughing and blushing.
“Who
told you to say that?” Jamie glared at him piercingly.
Blair
batted his eyelashes. “It’s our cunning plan,” he declaimed.
“Rafe?” Jamie hazarded, the Royal Assassin of Acharn had a sick sense of humour.
“Nope,”
Blair said gleefully. “Yep. But Mama also said that
it’s your special day since you become a proper sentinel. It’s like a party in
your honour. Even more so ‘cause you’ve been a sentinel for awhile. But Uncle
Simon sez that you are ‘introverted’ so we have to
convince you that you are special. And your grandfather said that you’d say you
like it quiet, but you really wouldn’t mind if we did it properly for you. And Rafe says ‘any excuse for a party’ and Henri smacked him
over the top of the head when he said that. And your grandfather said we had to
convince you. And I might be the ‘one to do it’ if I made you feel guilty.”
The
prince had an uncanny ability to remember everything he heard, and his tendency
to repeat it in his own personal way, could be very disconcerting.
“Are
we having a party now?” Blair asked innocently. “I like parties. And I don’t
think it’s fair you don’t just because of the Goblin
Queen.”
“You’re
an evil little brat, do you know that?” Jamie said affectionately.
Blair
smiled, completely unaffected by the words, reading the true emotions. “What do
you want as a birthday present?”
With
a yell, Jamie launched himself at the prince, bowling him into a pile of straw.
Flailing arms and legs, they wrestled in the stall. Jamie’s tickled the prince. Screaming delightedly, Blair wriggled
completely defenceless. Jamie caught the squirming Blair, restraining him on
the floor and gently sat astride his chest. He caught Blair’s wrists and pinned
them above his head.
“One.”
“Nonononononononono,” Blair begged, laughing hysterically.
“Two.”
“Pleasepleaseplease.”
“Three!”
Jamie
let go of Blair’s wrists and ran his sensitive fingers up his ribcage. Blair’s
breath came in frantic little ‘hees’ as he wriggled.
The Prince flailed ineffectively laughing too hard and too clumsy to tickle
back.
“Stop
it!”
Jamie
paused letting Blair get his breath before launching another tickle-attack. But
sensing his charge had had enough; Jamie rolled to the side bringing Blair up
to sit on his chest.
Blair
flopped and wheezed against him.
Jamie
picked straw from Blair’s tumbled curls as he waited patiently for the prince
to get his breath back.
“You
really want to have a party, Blair?” he asked softly.
“Yep. I fink we should.”
“We?” Jamie mused. The ceremony inducted the heir to the Sentinel in
the mystery. On his twenty-first birthday the seed of his gifts was supposed to
be allowed to blossom. But he wasn’t supposed to wield the gifts until the true
Sentinel of Acharn passed on. However, Acharn now had two sentinels: his grandfather, Lord Ellison,
Blair
sat up, sitting comfortably on Jamie’s stomach. The laird hoisted himself on
his elbows; it was a good thing that Blair seemed to taking after the smaller
members of the family. In fact Blair’s
lack of statue was the subject of much discussion. It had been postulated that
the elfish strand in the House of Sandburg-Bran was breeding true in the young
prince. In the late night hours of the
longest council meetings the topic had meandered on the prince’s paternity. Her
Royal Majesty Queen refused to be drawn.
“What
are you thinking about, runt?”
“A party. I like parties. We can find out more about
sentinels. Do guides have special parties when they get to be twenty one?
That’s years to go?”
“Just a few. I don’t know if guides have parties. Maybe
your mother will know. You should though…”
“P’rhaps it’s a secret,” Blair muttered, perturbed. “If a
party’s bad, why do I have to have one when you don’t?”
“Argggh!” Jamie grabbed Blair and gave him a little
shake. “You win. We’ll have a proper celebration and the ceremony.”
“Presents,”
Blair exulted, his mood changing mercurially. He gave a little bounce. “What do
you want? A sword? I know can we go out the Citadel?
Can we go out and visit Bruncladhic? Can we go to
your island home, Eilean Ellis? I want to see a
proper mountain. Can I ride with you on Pern?”
Blair
was brilliant with anticipation, his chestnut curls glowing with an amber light.
“The
ceremony has to be carried out on Clan ground so that means Eilean
Ellis. But a visit isn’t a present.”
“Isn’t
it?” Blair’s face scrunched up. “Oh, I’ll think of a good present for you. A proper present.”
“A
hug will do,” Jamie said sagely.
“A hug?” Blair glowed. “I can do that now.” He flung
his arms around Jamie’s neck. The laird folded him in. He owed his fealty to
the Queen but Blair had claimed his soul. The prince nestled in contentedly,
secure at his young age, to display such affection.
Jamie
let Blair sit for a moment, then gave him a gentle poke
in the ribs.
“Don’t
tickle, I gotta pee.”
“Pee?” Jamie lifted Blair onto his feet. “Go, run, you’re not peeing
on me.”
Sniggering,
Blair darted out of reach, and then joggled from side to side, evidently
containing himself.
“Go,”
Jamie directed, “before you have an accident. And cadge me a flagon of cider
from the kitchens.”
“Yes,
Jim.” Blair ran.
~*~
Blair
trotted across the outer ward to the stables. The cobblestones made his
progress unstable, his tongue poked between his teeth as he held Jim’s cider,
securely.
“Boy!”
Blair
continued on his mission to give Jim his cider. Perhaps after they had finished
in the stables, the laird would take him out of the castle to ride around the Citadel.
Blair liked riding on Pern, sitting in front of
Jamie. Occasionally, Jamie let him hold the reins, even though Blair knew that Pern knew more about riding then he did. The sun was
shining and it was too nice to stay in and muck out stables. They could head
out the back gate and onto the southern facing moors of their mountain,
Goodrich. If they asked very nicely, the cook would give them a picnic to take
on their ride.
“Boy!”
Jamie
promised that he could have his own pony when he grew another thumb width
higher. Blair wanted a shaggy highland pony.
“Boy!”
Blair
stopped with a heavy sigh. Some cider slopped over his hands and he had tried
so hard to carry it without spilling. Blair glowered up at two – judging by
their thoroughbred mounts – lords. The man on the shiny black wore the rich
jewel colours that Jamie favoured. The lord was all prickly,
his aura was spiky and sharp. Blair squinted trying to see closely. The colours
were muted, but the feelings were horribly thorny.
“Stable
boy, take these horse to the stable, they need a cool down, a thorough groom…”
“I’m
not the stable boy,” Blair said simply and stepped back. He didn’t like the man, he made him feel … Blair couldn’t put it into words. He
would have to think about it and maybe ask Jamie.
“Brat,
our mounts have been ridden hard; you will give them good hot mash and some
water.” The lord dismounted sweeping his cloak aside in a deliberate motion.
His spurs hitting the cobbles sent sparks into the air. They matched his inner
light.
“Lind
will know what to do if they’re tired. He’s the stable master. ” Blair turned
away.
A
heavy hand caught his shoulder and spun him around. Jamie’s cider fell,
splattering. Blair huffed angrily as he watched the golden liquid seep between
the cobbles.
“You
do it, boy; we’ve had a long ride and I have to report to my grandfather,
immediately.” The man shook him.
The
last person to lay a hand in anger on the Royal Prince had been the Goblin
Queen. Blair sank his teeth into the shiny lord’s wrist.
“Little
bastard.” The lord wrenched his hand free and Blair fell back onto the cobbles.
“Someone
should teach you a lesson.” The man stood over him, his hand on the hilt of his
sheathed sword.
Blair’s
temper went incandescent. Between one heartbeat and the next the cider beneath
him boiled. A watery figure was brought forth. Tall, sinuous, it was as clear
as amber crystal. It grinned frenziedly. At the prince’s bidding the water
elemental rose holding him and then gently set him on his feet.
The
lord’s spiky aura flattened with shock, disappearing as if a smothered candle.
“Show
him what it’s like.” Blair pointed straight at the chevalier.
The
elemental rushed forward bowling the lord over. The man fell hard on the
cobbles and the being flowed over him, ruining his prissy clothes. The fey
elemental giggled merrily and coated the lord from head to toe.
“Demon child!” The lord’s older companion jumped down from
his horse, his sword drawn. Elementals didn’t like iron forged
broadswords; it would leave. Blair knew better than stay near someone with a
sword when he was alone.
“Jim!”
Blair shrieked and ran. He slipped and slid over the uneven paving stones.
The
laird was running across the outer ward to intercept them. He was weaving magick as he ran and golden lights coalesced at the pulse
points at his head, throat and wrists.
“Down!” Laird Jamie ordered, hands outstretched. Blair ducked under
the visible arc of magick. The spell enfolded the
struggling lord in a sheaf of dazzling radiance. A happy squeal echoed through
the outer ward as the merry elemental rushed back to the otherside.
“He
hit me, Jamie.” Blair rushed toward Jamie and the laird swung him up onto his
hip. Blair latched onto his protector.
“Demon!” The man came to a screeching halt,
brandishing his sword.
“Beaumaris?” Jamie asked incredulously.
“Laird Jamie?” Beaumaris countered.
“He
hit me, Jim. He hit me, Jim. He hit me and he pushed me on the ground.”
The
lord coughed and struggled into a sitting position; he looked like a drowned
cat. His impeccable clothes were ruined. The fine silk tabard was stinking with
cider.
“Stephen?”
Jamie demanded.
“He
hit me, Jim. He hit me, Jim.”
“Sshhh. Are you hurt?” Jamie’s nostrils flared,
sniffing out blood, and he gently patted Blair’s arms and chest.
Blair
pouted sullenly and then shook his head.
“Jamie,
that little brat just tried to kill me with cider…” Stephen began. “Cider?”
“You
really hit Prince Blair?” Jamie demanded drowning out his words.
“Prince
Blair?” Stephen went from being red with anger to a shocky,
pasty white.
Safe
and secure in Jamie’s grasp, Blair stuck out his tongue. “He pushed me over,
Jim.”
“I
didn’t realise that he was the prince.”
“That’s
supposed to make a difference? He’s eight years old, For Acharn’s
Sake,” Jamie snapped.
“Almost nine!” Blair inserted indignantly.
“Chief,”
Jamie said quellingly.
Blair
lapsed into silence, for the moment.
“We’ve
been riding for days,” Stephen began. “We were tired, I thought he was the
stable boy and he refused to help. He was a …,” the younger laird left the word
unspoken, “very unhelpful.”
“That’s
no reason to hit,” Blair yelled.
“You’re
right; I apologise, Prince Blair.” The man bowed precisely.
Blair
slumped against Jamie, he’d decided that he didn’t
like this Lord Stephen. He didn’t want his apology.
“Blair,”
Jamie said seriously. “Did you call up an elemental on purpose?”
Blair
dropped his head on Jamie’s shoulder. “Wasn’t a nasty – it was clever and
bubbly. It only wanted to play tricks.” He glanced sideways at Lord Stephen. “Serves him right.”
“We’ve
talked about this, Blair. You’re not supposed to command elementals.”
“Didn’t really. I was ‘nnoyed. It
came but it wasn’t bad.” Blair muttered. “It just got him sticky and wet.”
Jamie
exhaled noisily. “I hope you’ve learned your lesson, Stephen. Next time you
pick on a page they might just turn round and bite your head off. And--” he
finished pithily, “--your behaviour was not becoming of an Ellison. I will
discuss this matter with Grandfather and find you later.”
Blair
sniggered. When Jamie used that tone of voice you were in trouble.
“And
you, Prince Blair, we will not be going out riding today. When you have a
problem, you come to me. That even
includes my brother.”
“Brother?”
Blair sat ramrod straight in Jamie’s arms. “Brother? He’s your brother?” he
said aghast.
Stephen’s
aura flared a sickly olive and the spiky edges made Blair shudder to his toes.
Was this Stephen like Lord William Ellison, Jamie’s father? Was he inhabited by
evil?
“Yes,
he’s my little brother,” Jamie explained.
“No,”
Blair said his voice ripe with disbelief. “You’re mine; not his. Mine.” He
glowered at all and sundry, daring them to come closer.
“Blair,”
Jamie said evenly, and joggled him. “Stephen’s my brother of my body and you’re
the brother of my soul. There’s room enough in my heart for both of you.”
Blair
fixed his piercing sapphire gaze on Stephen, and with every iota of little
being he cried war.
Stephen
looked away first. “I should go get changed; grandfather is expecting me.”
“Stephen,”
Jamie said before he could move.
“Yes?”
he said suspiciously.
“It’s
good to see you.”
“Oh,
it’s good to see you, too,” he said ungraciously. Lips pursed, he nodded curtly
at the prince. “Beaumaris come with me.”
“Yes,
Lord Stephen.” The ghillie bowed to Jamie and the
prince and took his leave.
“Blair?”
Jamie craned his head to look in the prince’s eyes.
Blair
tucked his head against Jamie’s neck refusing to look at the Sentinel. “I’m all
sticky, he pushed me in the cider. He made me drop
your cider.”
“That’s
okay, Chief. We’ll get some more. Come on let’s get you clean. Are you sure
you’re not hurt?”
“Yes,”
Blair said sullenly. “Bad Stephen.”
~*~
The
hubbub of the diners at the grand table made Laird Jamie’s ears ache. The
Highborn were in residence for the summer solstice council. There were as many
conversations ringing around the table as there were people. Ancient Lord Malú on his left side was discussing the grain harvest and
Countess Beth was chatting with Mistress Doyle on the riveting subject of
embroidery on the other side. Jamie let his hearing drift over the table. Blair
was at the head of the table with his mother, Queen Naomi. The prince was half
on his mother’s lap and half on his own chair. He was sipping on the Queen’s
goblet of wine while she was distracted talking to the Wizard Sultan, Simon.
Blair’s cheeky face screwed up in disgust and spat the wine back into the
goblet.
Jamie
signalled a server to take the goblet and set a fresh one in its place. Blair pounced on his own goblet of goat’s
milk. The prince glugged mouthfuls washing away the
foul taste of the wine; evidently he had learnt his lesson. Bored again, Blair
looked around. Queen Naomi gathered him against her side, leaning down to
whisper in his ear.
The
child was displaying a streak of jealousy as wide as the
Could
it be because he had a guide in the Royal Prince? Could it be that he had
become a sentinel without even passing the trials? Since he was confirmed as
the next sentinel his younger brother would never hold the gifts.
It
wasn’t Jamie’s fault that he had been born first. But he didn’t regret his
gifts or his guide, who at this moment was sitting on his mama’s knee face
smeared with honey.
Blair
certainly was a great responsibility
Icy
footsteps raced up his backbone; Stephen was glowering at him. Jealousy on both
sides assailed him. The scary fact was that choosing between the two would be
nigh on impossible.
Blair’s
chiming laugh resounded through the hall. “Yes, mama, Jamie wants a proper
party. Don’t you, Jim?” He smiled luminously at his fellow diners.
Jamie
blushed as all heads turned to regard him. “Yes,” he said tersely. “I’ll
undertake the ceremony.”
His
grandfather smiled proudly and his brother scowled.
Why
was this his life?
“Party!” Blair cheered.
~*~
Close
to
For
a heartbeat fear rocked him, then he realised that he was probably exploring
the castle’s secret passages.
‘He’s going to be cleaning out
the stables until the end of time.’
“Lord
James?”
Jamie
spun on his heel. A swirl of blue velvet skirts heralded the entrance of the
Countess Elizabeth, Prince Blair’s latest nanny. She ducked her head
acknowledging the prince’s sentinel.
“Prince
Blair is with his mother, the queen,” she announced, before Jamie could ask.
“What?”
Jamie looked back to the bed.
“Her
Majesty came in to kiss Prince Blair goodnight, but he was awake and playing
with his toy soldiers. She took him to her rooms for warm milk and honey. He
was quite excited at the prospect; I doubt that he will be asleep very
soon.”
Jamie
simply shrugged, getting Blair to go to bed could be a time consuming affair.
Countess Beth smiled, as she followed his thoughts.
“Ah,
well, I’m to bed, then.”
“Good
night, Lord James.”
“Sleep
well, milady.”
The
guttering torchlight in the stone dressed corridor sent ghostly shadows dancing
along the walls. By force of habit, Jamie monitored the world around him as he
skirted the wall. The scent of sage drifted before him. The young sentinel knew
its source.
The
queen was ahead and she was – Jamie determined with a simple sniff – without
bodyguards. The sentinel stepped into the centre of the corridor. The queen
drifted, in her own inimitable way, down the corridor. She was singing lightly
under her breath to her son. Blair was draped against her shoulder, limp in
sleep.
“Oh,
Jamie,” she whispered, “the chancellor needed me to speak to the diplomat from
“Shall
I take him, ma’am?”
The
Queen wrinkled her nose at her son and kissed the child’s downy cheek. “Yes.”
Carefully
she passed Blair into Jamie’s arms. The child was warm, vulnerable and
defenceless. And despite a mischievous streak as wide as the mountain
“Isn’t
he gorgeous.”
Jim
declined to comment.
“Good
night, Your Majesty.”
“Oh, Jamie.” Queen Naomi patted his cheek. “You’re such
a serious boy, I’m glad you have Blair as a guide.”
“Ma’am?”
“Nothing,
I will see you both at breakfast. I think you should join us at the head of the
table. It will keep Blair in his chair, rather than running back and forwards.”
With that final comment she sauntered back down towards the central chambers,
leaving a confused and dumbfounded sentinel standing in the centre of the
corridor.
~*~
Blair
was one step away from bursting and scattering pieces of exuberant prince over
the courtyard. He ran back and forth between the royal carriage and the royal
legion’s warhorses. Jamie winced as a particularly high squeal reverberated
around the Citadel’s spiral towers. He had decided to allow the prince to run
wild for just a little while to let him bleed off his excess liveliness. Rafe, the Royal Assassin, swooped down and snatched Blair
up to swing him around in a circle. The young sentinel watched with a hawk-like
eye. Pern, his warhorse, craned his neck and wickered, ruffling Jamie’s golden hair. Jamie bestowed an
absent pat on his horse’s velvet nose. Bestowing one final swing, Rafe set Blair on his feet. He had barely touched the
ground, and he was off running.
“Jamie.
Jamie. Jamie, can I go down the spiral tower? Can I?” Blair screeched to a
halt.
“No,
you’ll be in the carriage.”
Blair
stiffened and vented, “No, I want out. I want to touch.”
Jamie’s
brow furrowed as he tried to make sense of that fervent demand. “Touch what?”
“Outside. Outside the Citadel,
outside the castle. The ground on the bottom of the
mountain.”
“Why?”
Jamie asked perplexed.
That
threw the young prince. He stopped, vibrating with tension as he pondered. He
made quite the figure decked in his royal blue tunic and hose, with the lace
collar and cuffs, hands clasped between his back and his head bowed. It was his
thinking position.
“I
dunno… don’t know,” he admitted. He cocked his head
in a listening position and Jamie could see the glimmer of air elementals
whipping around his chestnut curls. “I can feel it in the air, but I don’t know
what it is. It’s going to be good, though.”
Jamie
flashed a curious look at Her Majesty, who was overseeing the preparations from
the conservatory.
The
Queen shrugged, and called out. “Blair’s been out of the Citadel. As a small
baby, I took him to the
Blair
was suddenly at his hip, staring up at him his eyes filled with wise secrets.
“Can we go now? Down the spiral? Not down the tunnel.
Please.”
The
Royal Legion was ready and waiting for instruction. The men stood beside their
mounts resplendent in their black and gold livery. An occasional hoof pawed the
ground but for the most part they were silent, well trained, so well trained
that a child could run beneath their legs without danger.
Laird
Jamie clicked his fingers directing the first troop to hand their reins to
their comrades. The stage, five warriors, marched towards him. The leader, a young highlander Sean, of the
House of Fraser, grinned at him gamely through a spray of ginger freckles.
“Yes,
Laird Jamie?”
“We
will go down through the portcullis and the spiral tower and wait for the rest
of the party to join us.”
“Yes!”
Blair bounced and thrust his fists in the air. Before he could run off, Jamie
grabbed his collar.
“Together.”
He controlled the squirming child with ease.
“No.”
Blair stamped his heel on the top of Jamie’s foot. “No manhandling.”
Jamie
released him instantly. He dropped to his knees to look at the prince straight
in his eyes. “Together,” he repeated. “We go together.”
Blair
glowered at him mulishly.
“You
know that you can’t just run off. You know that there are rules.”
“Always
talking, Always doing the right thing. Always good,”
Blair shrieked. “Now, touch.”
The air elementals that always circled the
prince wherever he went were dancing in anticipation. One in particular was playing with his
curls, tweaking them. Jamie extended his hypersenses,
expanding his sixth sense to see the otherworld sharing their land. He saw the
elements of air easily because of the bond he shared with his prince. Seeing
the other elementals took effort.
“Now?” Blair asked, breaking his concentration.
Jamie
grimaced and abruptly forced it into a smile. Blair was a canny little beast, he seemed to pick up on the mores of the people
around him with gleeful abandon. But for once he was concerned with his own
little world.
Blair
wrapped his fingers in the fabric of Jamie’s tunic and tugged. “Come on.
Please”
Jamie
growled audibly. Swooped down and plucked Blair up to swing over his shoulder.
“You win, Chief.”
Blair
mock screamed and wriggled, forcing Jamie to reach up and grab the prince
around the waist. “I’ll toss you off the parapet.” The threat had no effect;
Blair knew him too well.
“Down
on the ground.” Blair demanded.
“Ha,
I’ll carry you down and put you straight in the coach.”
“Noooo, that’s not fair.”
Laughing
Jamie trooped across the drawbridge his cadre of chosen guards in tow. He
acknowledged Sean’s grin with an answering smile. Blair was very popular with
the Royal Legions, few could resist his ebullience. The guards at the end of
the drawbridge saluted, and moved away from the entrance to the spiral tower
which was one of the few egresses from the Citadel. Carved from the face of the
mountain Goodrich during the last ice age, stone masons had hewn a spiral
staircase in the centre of the tower during the time of Prince Blair’s
great-great-great-great- great-great grandfather.
Blair
had the presence of mind to freeze as Jamie turned the first step. Flight after
flight after flight, Jamie picked his way carefully down the staircase. By the
time they reached the bottom, common sense had been overtaken and Blair was
quivering in anticipation again.
Jamie
stepped out of the portcullis at the base of the tower into brilliant sunlight.
“Down,
down, down,” Blair chimed.
Jamie
twisted him around nimbly. Hands tucked under the prince’s armpits he held him
so they were eye to eye.
“You
be good; no running off.”
“No
running,” Blair affirmed. “I won’t.”
Jamie
set the prince on his feet with a thump. Blair’s mouth opened in a soundless
exclamation of delight. He dropped into a crouch and planted his hands face
down on the soil.
“Earth!”
he crowed.
The
soil beneath their feet rippled. Jim saw a long gangly arm rise and skim the
surface, as if a figure fathoms deep in the earth, swam through soil as if
water. The earth around Blair’s hands teamed with fat, fecund figures as short
as Blair’s fingers. A hummock rose at their side. Soil moved, opening a rent in
which an amazingly deep blue eye gleamed. She winked and then the hummock
dropped away leaving flat soil in her wake.
The
tiny figures paying homage to Blair swan dived back into the soil. Green shoots
peaked through the newly tilled soil. Shoots budded into leaves. At the tops of
the stalks flowers bloomed.
“Heh heh,” Blair chortled,
in an unconscious imitation of his Blessed Protector. He dug his fingers in the
brown soil and gently freed a single daisy.
“What’s
that for?” Jamie concentrated on the prosaic.
“For
mama, the Lady said.”
“You’re
going to need a pot,” Jamie could only mutter amazed.
End Chapter I
~*~
Sect of the Sentinel Chapter
II
If
there was anyone not made for travelling in a carriage – even a royal carriage–
it was Prince Blair Nechtan Finn of the House of
Sandburg-Bran. He drove his nurse Countess Beth to distraction as he bounced
from window to window, port and starboard, so he would miss nothing.
“Your
Highness, you’ll make me sick.”
Blair
paid her little heed as he pointed out everything and asked questions in a
piping voice.
The
heather covered rolling plain on either side of the King’s Road was stark and
seemingly without boundary. But over each rise there was a new cairn, small
yellow flower or bubbling brook to be commented upon.
Blair
leaned deeply out of the carriage and Countess Beth caught the back of his hose
for the hundredth time and hauled him back.
“I
can still see Goodrich!” Blair proclaimed.
The
mountain, which housed the
“I
can’t see the forest anymore, there must be a rise.” Blair turned and looked
along the King’s Road. “I can still see the
Jamie
kneed his war horse forward. “Get back in the coach, Blair.”
“Why?”
“Because hanging out of that window isn’t
safe.”
“Can
I ride with you then?”
“No.”
“Can
I ride on the top of the carriage like Fraser?” Blair leaned out further,
oblivious to the mashing wheels and pointed at the red-headed highlander
perched on the back of the carriage resplendent in the Royal black and gold.
“No.”
“You
never let me do anything,” Blair protested.
“I’m
letting you ride in your mother’s coach,” Jamie retorted.
Blair’s
brow furrowed as he digested that statement. “But…” he began.
“Get
back in and sit down before I join you in there,” Jamie said sharply.
“Will
you?” Blair beamed.
Jamie
shook his head, foiled. “Not at the moment, Chief. Though the land stretches as
far as the eye can see, it hides furrows and dips to harbour the unseelie.”
“Who?”
Pern pranced to the side at his words, and Jamie spent an uncommon
moment bringing him to stride.
“Bad elves.”
“Dhu sidhe?”
Blair’s blue gaze turned inwards. His finger pointed out unerringly towards a
tussock of tall spindly grass. “There’s a Bhog Garalapin in the marshes over there.”
“What?”
Jamie rose up on his stirrups looking for the peat and moss covered bog
monster.
A
sudden hoot rolled across the open landscape, and only a sentinel could see a
beastie dive into a noisome, black midden with barely
a ripple.
“How
did you know that that was there?”
“Mama
said,” Blair said absently and squinted at the rolling wet hillocks.
As
far as Jamie was aware, they had left Her Majesty at Goodrich after a tearful
goodbye and pointed instruction on the care and attention of daisy husbandry.
“Anything else?” Jamie ventured.
“Lots of things.” Blair reached for the carriage door handle.
“Stay
in there.”
“Tis alive.” Blair waved his arm. “It’s all alive. Lots of things; little and big.”
“Anything with big teeth and a taste for
flesh?” Sean Fraser
asked tightly.
Blair
shot a shocked glance at his guardian. “Jim?”
“Sean’s
just teasing you.” Laird Jamie quelled the younger man’s scaremongering with an
icy glare.
Blair
had lapsed into silence, knuckles white as he gripped the top of the carriage
door. His head cocked to the side and he appeared to listen.
“Your Highness?” Countess Beth laid a narrow hand on his
shoulder.
The
sapphire eyes that looked at Jamie were filled with knowledge, but tinged with
a degree of vexation. Blair glowered.
Jamie
reached down and plucked him from the coach, setting him easily astride Pern’s back. Blair leaned into him, twisting to the side.
“It’s
big,” he began. “Tiny lives. Food for the big lives and in turn they’re food,
but the other little lives eat the big lives. Even the buzzin’
flies are important.” Blair shrugged. “Lots of teeth.”
~*~
Even
Blair’s enthusiasm flagged with the setting sun. He drooped against his blessed
protector, turning his face into the twist of tartan over the laird’s
chest. Easily Jamie swung the small
child’s legs over his worn breech covered thigh.
Fraser
– his face a white beacon in the drizzling gloom – grinned down at them from
the roof of the coach.
“He
sleeps?”
“Aye,”
Jamie said, a fond grin turning his lips.
“We’re
coming to the Hangman’s fork; do we go to Eilean
Ellis by the Dragon’s Passage or the sea route?”
The
decision had been made days past. Both route had their advantages and
disadvantages, but the former allowed the laird to check the lay of the Land
and introduce its heir to both the people and the earth.
“We
go via the Dragon’s Pass,” Jamie confirmed.
Fraser
grinned, “So then we’ll be stayin’ with the Taliskers at Aberfen?”
“Oh, aye?” Jamie asked drolly. “You’ve an eye on the Talisker’s daughter?”
Fraser
grinned openly. “Oh, she’s a bonny lassie, tall as the sidhe
and her russet brown hair falls in those glorious locks.”
“You
should have been a bard.”
Fraser
chuckled. “I may set my eyes on the Lady Carolyn but I don’t think I can scale
her heights.”
“Sean
Fraser,” a ringing voice came from within the Royal Carriage. “I’ll thank you
not to talk of a lady in that manner.”
A
blush to match his hair blossomed over Fraser’s cheeks. “I beg your pardon, me
lady.” The young highlander ducked back on his perch and resumed his watch.
Smiling
softly, Jamie cast his senses ahead. He could see the crossroad that spoke of
choice. The
Rafe’s home – Jamie cast a glance at the dapper assassin riding at
the back of the train – lay in the mist wreathed Western Isles. Jamie’s own
home was to the north east, tucked on the coast of the sea loch of à Bheallaich Donne protected by
the mountain range of Sgurr na Bannachdich, Sgurr a’Ghreadaidh and Sgurr Deary. His heart called to
the
~*~
“They’re
here, Mama. They’re here, Mama.” A light shone welcoming from an open doorway
as the train marched sedately through the double walled gates into the
courtyard of Aberfen. The seat of the Taliskers was tucked in the first solid lee of the edge of
a fast flowing river that fed into the Goodrich Fens. Dampness hung in the air
and even the mansion, which stood several storeys high to protect against
flooding, couldn’t rise above it.
“Tis a lovely family but I wouldnae
want to live here with the midges,” Fraser uttered softly.
Jamie
could only nod as he smushed yet another biting fly
against his skin. One landed on Blair’s sleeping cheek and he gently brushed it
away.
“Come
inside,” their host exhorted, “the beasties are fair thirsty tonight.”
At
his words retainers tumbled out of the house to direct the Royal Legion to
their bunks and stables. Ellis Ellison swung down from his war horse and greeted
his old friend with the kiss of peace. They hugged once, gripping each other
shoulders and releasing.
“I’ve
brought some uisge-beatha to ward off that chill, old
man.”
“Old
man yerself,” Talisker
coughed and drew the Queen’s Sentinel into the beckoning light. Stephen paused
at the doorway indecisively before following his grandfather into the house.
Jamie
cocked one leg over his saddle and slipped nimbly off his war horse onto the
cobblestones. The great horse stood patiently waiting for directions from his
master.
“Sire?” A tiny lad screeched to a halt at Jamie’s heels. “I am
Sainsbury, the stable lad. My master asked me to tend to you.”
Jamie
cast an assessing glance at the mite.
“Tell
your master that I will speak to him later. Sean Fraser will see to my mount.”
“Aye,
Jamie.”
Pern nickered a soft question and then a
velvety soft nose brushed the hairs over his ear.
“Go
with Sean, Pern, and remember your station.”
The
stallion snorted. Jamie shook his head, the horse’s exhale sounded like a
summer storm in his ears.
Fraser
took Pern’s bridle with a gentle hand, the other hand
he lay on the stable boy’s shoulder turning him to his hip away from Pern’s hooves. “I’ll show you the best way to look after a
High King such as Pern.”
“Lord
James?” a soft voice caught his attention.
Jamie
turned slowly, conscious of the sleeping weight in his arms.
Lady
Carolyn bobbed in a lowland curtsey, the hem of her skirt brushing against the
damp stones.
“Milady.” Jamie ducked his head in a curtailed bow.
“Rooms
have been set aside for the Prince. It is best that you come inside where the
candles and peat fires drive away the midges.”
“That
is--” Jamie said as another took a pint from his neck, “--a good idea.”
Lady
Carolyn was as much as Jamie remembered from the winter solstice ceilidh. Tall, elegant and refined, many a highland lad was
smitten by her.
“Is
that the prince?” A small girl, a relative judging by the shared russet brown
hair, piped up. She clung to Lady Carolyn’s long skirts. She craned her head trying to see who was
held. On her tiptoes she could just make out ringlets, corkscrewing wildly in
the damp air, cascading over Jamie’s arm.
“Shouldn’t
he be blond? You’re blond; are you the prince?”
“Be
quiet, Shauna. Let them inside.” Carolyn waved them into her home.
Jamie
breathed a sigh of relief as the door closed behind him. A short corridor led
to a hall. The fire at the far end of the hall did little to stave off the
night’s damp chill.
“Conduct
me to the prince’s rooms,” Jamie ordered.
“The
prince’s rooms are above.”
Jamie
allowed his sentinel senses to quest forth as he was led through the Taliskers’ home. He was finally led through one set of
rooms into another suite, making them doubly secure. A fire roared in the
corner. A suite of evergreen scented candles burned on the windowsill driving
off any biting flies. Jamie scanned the room fully before venturing further. A
singularly plush bed dominated the room bedecked with sumptuously tasselled
pillows. Jamie raised his eyes towards the ceiling; few folk knew how to treat
a prince, who also happened to be a young boy.
“When
we saw your lanterns across the fen I had my maid draw baths for the royal
party.” She gestured to a room adjoining the bedroom.
Jim
deposited Blair in the centre of the cushions. The boy yawned, his eyes opening
to half-mast as he sunk down to become half obscured by the pillows. Carolyn
sniggered inelegantly and Jamie grinned.
“He
looks like a doll propped up on satin cushions. There’s far too many.”
“He’s
fairly used to it,” Jamie said thinking of Blair’s inappropriately appointed
bedroom.
“Has
he brought any toys with him? Does he have a bedtime toy?”
“Ah,
yes.” Jamie reached down and snagged a couple of pillows and pulled them off
the bed. Blair glowered at him, turning to burrow under the remaining cushions.
“Jammy?”
Blair reached out sleepily, fumbling to find his beloved toy.
“The
countess has Jammy,” Jamie said evenly.
The
prince’s nanny slipped into the room behind them. “You called?” She carried a
small trunk and a rag tag cuddly toy.
“Ah, Countess Beth.”
“I
heard mention of a bath?” she asked.
“Yes,”
Carolyn gestured once again to the en-suite.
“A
quick bath I think and a glass of warm wheat milk and then straight to bed,”
Countess Beth decided.
Blair
was as pliable as chewed taffy as she drew him into a sitting position and
scooped him up. Jamie poked his head into the bathroom, but all was as it
should be and he left the Countess to nanny the prince.
He
found a welcoming sitting room, where he judged the centre of the mansion lay. Rafe already lounged beside a roaring fire as he sipped on
the contents of a ceramic mug. The assassin nodded amiably indicating that he
had checked the Taliskers’ residence. Jamie stood
directly in front of the fire turning to warm his behind.
“Your
grandfather’s in Talisker’s study quaffing on
firewater.”
“They
have some bizarre competition going on, something about finding the best of the
worst gut rot.”
“Who
can supply the most lethal drink?”
“Pretty much so. I remember Talisker
visiting when I was a wee bairn. They actually sang.”
“Sang?”
“Sea
shanties from your western isles, I recall.”
“Eeek.” Rafe set his mug
of mulled wine on the table beside his chaise longue.
A
soft “Brother,” interrupted them.
“Stephen,”
Jamie acknowledged.
The
adolescent slinked into the room. He nodded once to Rafe
as he settled gingerly on the plush couch opposite the assassin.
Jim
plastered a smile on his face, he was profoundly uncomfortable and he hated
that he felt that way. Once he and Stephen couldn’t have been separated by
rampaging marauders, but now being in Stephen’s presence was akin to being
poked with tiny hot needles.
“Where’s
your guide?” Stephen asked flatly.
“Blair?”
Jamie was kind of surprised by the question. “He’s with his nanny.”
“Nanny?”
“Countess
Beth--” Jamie cocked his head to the side, “--is putting him down now.”
“You
know that?” It wasn’t really a question.
“Well,
yes; she’s telling him a story about a cat in a well. I haven’t heard it
before. He’s pretty much asleep now.”
“You’re
that aware of him?”
“The
same way I know that your dinner that you ate while on the road isn’t settling
on your stomach.” Jamie crossed to liquor table and poured a tot of fine, clear
spirits into a shot glass. “This will help.”
Stephen
accepted it with some grace. “I won’t become a sentinel, will I?”
Rafe stood at his words, bowed once, and then exited the room.
Jamie raised an eyebrow at his abrupt departure. His senses told him that the
Royal Assassin hovered outside the drawing room listening to their
conversation. But Stephen believed that they were alone.
“Probably not, Stevie. I mean--” Jamie shrugged, “it could happen,
if I die or Grandfather passes on and I need a heir. I
can’t see the future but it’s not impossible. Has Grandfather said anything to
you about become Heir to the Gifts?”
“No,
he won’t be drawn on the subject.”