The Quest for the Lost Shards of Power Read online

  Life as a guardian on the boundary was sometimes a lonely affair. Some guardians who had partners or family would bring them to the outposts to stay with them during their duty period. The post was set up to accommodate this, with several bedrooms and a large communal area. Surrin had Reina. The post was also almost self-sufficient with its own orchard, vegetable and herb garden, chickens, sheep, cows and bees. Because there was very little a guardian had to do on the boundary, except be there, most took great satisfaction in making sure that the outpost was always in good repair and that it could operate independently.

  Each time a new guardian came on duty, they would bring essential supplies such as lamp oil, salt and flour for the outpost. Although the village was only a one-day carriage ride away, a guardian could not leave their post until relieved as this would create a break in the barrier through which the wild magic would be able to enter Feld. Because of the barrier, Feld was the only place in the world safe from the destructive force of the wild magic storms and each guardian felt the weight of this huge responsibility sit heavily upon their shoulders.

  Surrin was still young, and as yet had not met anyone she would like to share her life with apart from Renia. If she was honest with herself, she had to admit that she really enjoyed her time at the outpost. It was a peaceful time where she was her own boss, where she could do what she wanted, when she wanted, without having to consider others. It was not as if she didn’t have admirers; many men thought her fine features and short dark hair attractive, but she found that being around people required effort. She always seemed to say or do the wrong thing at the wrong time and the simple day-to-day interactions that others found so easy, even enjoyable, were difficult and stressful for her.[CL1]

  Each guardian approached their duty time on the outpost differently. Some were in constant mind-to-mind communication with their neighbours and others preferred their privacy. This ability to talk over distances varied between guardians. Some could mind speak over a week’s ride away, while others like Surrin were more limited. She could only just reach the two outposts either side of her, two days ride away.

  Surrin knew that her magic blocking aura was large enough to overlap that of the guardians either side of her, thus creating a continuous barrier. She could feel them there – it was like holding hands with someone you knew well, you almost forget you are doing it.

  She did not ‘mind speak’ to her neighbours often, and over the years they had learned that she preferred her solitude. This suited her well, even though it was still a comfort to know that she was always just a ‘mind call’ away from help.

  It had been just before she went in to break her fast that she had noticed them walking towards the boundary, out of the wild lands beyond. The first gusts of wind, the harbingers of the approaching storm, had swirled in to gather up the fallen leaves into twirling spirals, making it hard for her to see them properly. At first glance they appeared to be people and her initial reaction was one of disbelief. No one had come in from the wilds for generations. The second was of hope – maybe there were places in the wild magic that people could still live? Surrin had squinted, trying to see them against the backdrop of dark storm clouds and it wasn’t until they were an arrow shot away that she had been able make out that, although they walked on two legs and had two arms and a head, they were definitely not people. In fact they did not even look friendly. They were twice as tall as Surrin with huge barrel chests and arms that almost seemed to drag on the ground. They had flat faces with squashed noses and large muddy yellow eyes that sent shivers down her spine, but it was the halo of matted hair made them look truly alien. Each was dressed in crudely made dark leather clothing with belts into which a variety of weapons were shoved. Surrin had nervously spotted a very large, very sharp, unusually designed axe in the leader's belt and swallowed.

  Reina had growled, her hackles up, and Surrin wished with all her heart that she had heeded her beloved dog’s warning instead of motioning her into silence. But what could she have done? Where could she have gone? She could not leave her post, she had very few options open to her and she had just hoped against hope that these strangers would prove safe.

  Holding Reina by the collar, she had steadied her thumping heart and gone to welcome them to Feld, and this was the moment when her world, as she knew it, ceased to exist. The beast nearest her had lunged, unexpectedly fast, caught her and with one hand holding her around the neck and had lifted her off the ground. She had not even had time to scream, but Reina, dear brave Reina, now let loose, had launched herself at Surrin's attacker's throat making him take a step backwards and forcing him to let Surrin drop. It had just given her enough time to broadcast her desperate cry for help, using mind speech, before the creature snapped Reina's neck and aimed that devastating kick at Surrin's head.

  She had groggily surfaced much later in the day to find herself tossed on the ground in the middle of the yard, face down, dirt in her mouth and dust up her nose. The reality of her situation had flooded back and the loss of Renia stabbed her in the heart so painfully that she had gasped, breathing in more dirt and dust. Her body convulsed as it tried to sneeze but Surrin knew that her best hope of survival was to pretend that she was still unconscious, at least until she had had time to assess the situation, so she had held her breath, willing her body not to sneeze. It did not obey.

  She had groaned and rolled over to get a big breath of fresh air; there was no point in pretending any more, she was sure that these beasts would have heard her. She opened her eyes and stared at the sky. It was late afternoon and the first wisps of dark clouds were speeding overhead. A fitting day to die, she thought, and let herself indulge in a wry smile, but to her surprise nothing happened.

  Where could they be? Listening carefully she had heard a strange sound coming from the over in the pig pen, a sort of wet ripping sound punctuated by a gruff snort of laughter and terrified squealing. Cautiously she’d rolled her head to look in that direction but immediately wished she hadn't for, to her horror, two of the beasts were indulging in a macabre tug of war, literarily pulling one of the little piglets limb from limb. Surrin gagged. These beasts were beyond her understanding. The thought that anyone could enjoy inflicting pain was unimaginable but to do it to something so defenceless and trusting as this little piglet was insanity.

  Surrin breathed deeply. If she was going to survive this she was going to have to have a plan. She had to believe that help was on the way and so her best chance of survival would be to distract these vile creatures away from harming her for as long as possible, but how? A quick glance around had showed her that they were still busy looting, killing and ransacking anything they could get their hands on. She knew this would not last, there was only so much at the outpost to keep them occupied, and sooner rather than later they would turn their attention back to her, and she had a pretty good idea what would happen then. She’d shuddered, her mind painting pictures she did not want to see.

  Later she had heard the sound of heavy footsteps, panting and a scraping sound as if something was being dragged through the dirt. Daring another peek, she saw that one of the beasts was dragging a piece of the chicken coop behind him and he was heading in her direction. Peering out through her lashes, she watched in terror as he looked down as he passed her, laughed, then casually lifted his foot and stomped down hard on her out-flung arm. Surrin didn't even have a chance to scream before blissful oblivion claimed her again.

  #

  It had taken only moments for Dissan to sum up the situation before issuing a few curt orders, motioning for Jevrrin, now regaining his breath, to walk with him as he strode towards the horses.

  Turrin tried to keep up and eavesdrop as the prince quietly questioned the messenger, but it was impossible to hear above the noise the knights were making getting ready to ride. It looked as if they were going to leave the camp set up and only take essentials such as weapons, blankets and food. Turrin stared in amazement as everywhere he looked knights swung in
to action. He felt as though he was in the eye of a storm, a quiet space surrounded by a flurry of activity. It was truly impressive how quickly and efficiently the knights changed from a group of joking comrades into a well-oiled unit, each person knowing exactly what was needed and where they would be of the most help. Horses were saddled, saddle bags packed and loaded, shields and helmets were tied into position and swords buckled on, quivers were filled with arrows and bows slung across shoulders, There was no sign of the colourful pennants and pageantry of yesterday; this group of men now looked efficiently menacing instead. There was the odd bit of banter about events of the previous night but before the sun had risen a hand more in the sky, the knights were leading their fully loaded horses into line, awaiting the order to mount and ride.

  No such order came.

  Turrin, wanting to get a better view of what was causing the delay, jumped onto the wagon parked at the side of the road, and by standing on tiptoes, could just make out the prince deep in an animated conversation with Fenrick. It looked as if Fenrick had caught up with the prince almost as he was about to mount because Dissan had one hand on the saddle and was holding the bridle with the other.

  Turrin could see that something was not right. The prince was getting impatient and clearly wanted to be off and Fenrick seemed equally adamant about whatever it was he wanted the prince to hear. Turrin had to get closer – this was too exciting to miss out on. He leapt from the wagon and, ducking under the tablecloth of the breakfast table, he made his way towards them. No one was taking any notice of him as he crept closer. All eyes were on Dissan and Fenrick, and eventually Turrin was able to get close enough to hear a few words here and there, something about Rarrin the forester and, yes, he thought he heard Errin’s name as well. Carefully Turrin crept out from under the table and squeezed between Tobrrin and his portly wife until he was in a position where he could almost reach out and touch Fenrick.

  Dissan, clearly getting very impatient, turned away from Fenrick and placed his foot in the strip and mounted in one fluid motion. Looking down at the bard from his steed he sighed heavily.

  “They will just slow us down. You heard Jevrrin, there is no time. Every moment we waste puts not only the girl at risk but the boundary as well, and we just can’t afford to let anything hamper us.”

  The order was given for the knights to mount and, almost as one, the entire troop swung into their saddles. The prince raised his arm and was just about to give the signal to ride when Rarrin came galloping down the road, three of his best horses in tow.

  “Wait! Please wait your highness,” he gasped as he drew near. “I know a shortcut to Tanzrin using the old paths, if you would allow me to show you, I can get you there at least half a day quicker than if you take the roads. It is not easy to find but these old paths are still in amazing repair and we can travel at speed once we are on them.”

  The prince sighed again, before shrugged his shoulders in resignation. “Alright. I have heard only good things about you and I am sure that you would do nothing to jeopardize the boundary. You can show us the way, but you will only need one horse. We cannot travel fast enough leading horses.”

  “Beg your pardon, sire, but these are for Errin, Turrin and Fenrick.”

  Turrin’s jaw dropped. Had he heard right? Surely he meant someone else, why should Rarrin want him to go? Slowly he stood, never taking his eyes off the prince, hardly daring to breath. What was this all about?

  “Fenrick told me to fetch them. He said that you will be needing a healer. There is no one as good as Errin, and she needs Turrin to help her,” Rarrin replied.

  Dissan’s eyes flicked between Rarrin, Fenrick and Errin, who was standing next to the bard holding her healing bag in front of her as if it were shield, and threw his hands in the air.

  “I am defeated!” he exclaimed so loudly his horse shied a step sideways. “But understand this,” he said, looking pointedly at Errin and then Turrin, “we cannot afford to wait for you. You will have to keep up and if you fall behind, we will not go back for you.”

  Turrin could not believe his luck. This was impossible. One moment all he was thinking about was breakfast, and the next he was getting ready to ride with the prince and his knights to save a damsel in distress.

  In his usual way Rarrin had quietly and competently equipped the three horses Fenrick had asked him to fetch and so all that they had to do was scramble onto their assigned beast as quickly as possible. Once Errin was mounted, she scanned the crowd until she saw Tobrrin and, catching his eye, shouted, “You can have what’s left in the barrel if you look after the farm for us till we get back.” Tobrrin grinned from ear to ear.

  “Make that a new barrel when you come back and it is a deal.”

  Errin shook her head and laughed. “Taking advantage of an old lady in her time of need are you? All right half a barrel when we return.”

  Tobrrin smacked his hands together. “Deal!” he shouted, his eyes sparkling in anticipation.

  The prince gave one last look down the line before giving the signal to ride and, at a slow trot, they moved off. Turrin caught a glimpse of Werrin running alongside, waved to catch his attention then smiled as his friend almost tripped over his own feet in surprise to seeing Turrin riding with the knights. It felt so good.

  It wasn’t long before they were traveling at full speed. Turrin had never experienced anything like this before: it was terrible, exciting and exhilarating all at once. The first thing that hit him was the noise, the pounding of the horses hooves the creak of leather the clink of armour and the constant buffeting of the wind in his ears. The second thing was how quickly they had left the village behind and in no time, all he could see when he looked back was a great cloud of dust.

  Turrin had gone on many hunting trips with Rarrin and as a result was a very good rider, used to riding through lots of different terrain. However, he had never before been part of a cavalcade, traveling at such speed where everyone depended on everyone else to keep up and not cause an accident. It was really daunting being boxed in with riders all around him, all traveling at a flat out gallop. He could see why Dissan had been hesitant in taking an old woman and a boy with him. Turrin knew that Errin and Fenrick would have no trouble keeping up but he was not so sure of himself; after all, he was only twelve turns old and for the first time in a while, that did not feel very old at all.

  Gradually Turrin relaxed into the ride. It had a certain rhythm, which was almost hypnotic. He dared a quick look at the rider next to him and was rewarded with a smile and an encouraging wink. Looking forward over the sea of riders he experienced a sort of optical illusion, where the cavalcade as a whole looked as if it were one entity with multiple flying tails and bobbing heads and as it rounded a bend he thought to himself that it looked just like a huge colourful serpent winding itself through the forest.

  Fenrick and Rarrin were riding near the front, within call of the prince, but Errin was riding just in front of him and looked completely at home. As usual she was deep in conversation with someone. This time it happened to be the rider next to her. He looked to be a grizzled older knight who sat his horse with easy confidence born of a lifetime in the saddle. His leather clothes were worn but of good quality and his weapons, although not embellished, looked very efficient indeed. Turrin got the impression that he was the type of person it would be good to have around in a crisis. Trust Errin to find someone interesting to talk to, even at a time like this.

  Turrin lost track of time, although just as his stomach was beginning to tell him that it must be near noon, a signal was passed back to slow and stop. Gradually the horses slowed to a walk and eventually stopped. Everyone was craning their necks to see what was happening up the front and whispered rumours were circulating .Time for the noon meal? Messenger on the road? Something blocking the road? People took the time to take a mouthful of water from the pouches in their saddlebags or to make minor adjustments to their gear. No one dismounted and there was an air of expectancy as the
y waited for the next order.

  They did not have to wait long. Rarrin trotted back down the line, stopping every now and again to explain what was happening. Basically it was time to leave the road they were now on to go and find an old road, a road that was made by wizards before the wild magic appeared, a road that was no longer used and that had almost been forgotten about as it lay deep in the forest. This would be the most direct route to take them to the outpost, according to Rarrin, and to get to it, they first had to go single file through the forest for a league or two.

  Rarrin looked directly at the man Errin had been talking to all morning. “Hexrick, the prince asked that you be the back marker.”

  Hexrick nodded, touched his fetlock to Errin and directed his horse out of line to take up the rear position.

  The trail through the forest had a familiar feel to Turrin as Rarrin would often take him down similar trails when they went hunting. Although he could hear that there were more people moving up ahead, he only caught the occasional glimpse of Errin, even though she was riding just in front of him. It was very strange; he could almost imagine that the morning's ride had been part of a dream and that in reality, he was out hunting, in the woods back home. This phase of the journey only lasted for a short time before the old wizard road opened up in front of them and the troop regrouped once more to begin their next long, hard, fast ride.

  The road was a marvel, wide straight and in wonderful repair. The surface seemed to be melted rock without a join, but it was not as hard as rock and had a little bit of give, which made it easier on the horses. Wizard roads were used whenever possible but often they lay lost in forests that had grown up once the land had been reclaimed from the wild magic and often ran from nowhere to nowhere. Rarrin only knew about them because of his job as a ranger. The forest grew to the very edge of the road and it was almost like traveling down a tunnel.