Wing & Nien Read online

  Wing was about to close his eyes again when his baby sister, Fey, came over to him and, placing one hand upon his, patted his face with the other as if she were soothing a wounded bird.

  “Come on up,” Wing said, scooting back.

  Fey crawled up next to him, curling into the circle of his arm. Closing his eyes, Wing let the familiar sounds of home and Fey’s downy scent fill his senses.

  “Does anyone know when Nien might grace us with his presence?” Reean asked, glancing over the preparations for the evening meal.

  Without opening his eyes, Wing said, “He’s been with the Cant all day. I believe Lant is having him run the men through drills.”

  Chapter 5

  Nien

  T he sword came down heavily, the arms that wielded it, tired. Nien blocked the sword and knocked it out of his assailant’s hands.

  “Surrender!” Nien cried raising his sword over his head, hilt high, blade angled down toward the man’s chest.

  Greal’e looked up at him and his brow furrowed.

  Nien began to laugh.

  Greal’e rolled his eyes and crawled to his feet. “I’m thoroughly done,” he moaned.

  “Me, too,” Nien agreed, letting the point of his sword slide into the soft earth at his feet. He stood in stark contrast to the sea of white men surrounding him. It was not a point often noted by Nien, or anyone else, for Nien had grown up in Rieeve and was now, at thirty-one revolutions, a respected leader in the Cant.

  Passing his eyes across the stretch of land before him, he took in the mock battlefield and the seven thousand-member fighting force that was the Cant. The Cant as an organization was only seven revolutions old and was the first military force Rieeve had known in over one hundred and seventy revolutions. Nien himself had been at the vanguard of the Cant’s progression and was a personal friend of Cant Commander, Lant. It was rumored among the men that it would not be long before Lant would officially put him in charge of all the regular troops he now drilled.

  “Down swords!” Nien called.

  Over the Cantfield, swords were lowered, some of the Cant members collapsing tiredly to rest in the torn-up grass.

  Nien was about to dismiss them for the day when he spotted the Commander coming across the fields in the quickly failing light.

  “Leave your gear! To the Mound.”

  Quickly pulling off loose bits of armour or climbing back to their feet, the Cant began to gather, organizing itself by rank before a short green mound where the Cantfields met the valley’s tree lined edge.

  Nien stepped into his place amongst the others.

  Lant took the mound.

  The Commander usually got right down to business...

  Not this time.

  Watching him curiously, Nien’s eyes strayed to the sun’s setting rays as they glistened across the silver strips of grey-white hair at the Commander’s temples.

  “Seven thousand of us,” Lant said at last.

  Though Nien could see a new gravity in Lant’s eyes, his voice carried across the expanse of field in the same calm tone they all knew.

  “The Cant is unparalleled in our time,” Lant continued. “We have come far in the past revolutions. Your trust in each other and in me has made this possible.”

  Lant stood tall, ever a pillar of fortitude and strength, a giant Mesko in a mountain storm. Upon his face wrinkles of age followed lines of serious reflection and in his eyes glinted a wisdom who’s origin remained as enigmatic as the man himself. Though very little about Lant’s past was known, all anyone knew for certain was that he had done the unheard of: he had left Rieeve as a young man, most thought, never to return. As most of the Cant Members had not yet been born at the time, tales of his unprecedented departure were gathered in bits from those few who would speak of it. When, to the shock of all their people, Lant returned to Rieeve, he was virtually ostracized for nearly seven revolutions by everyone, the main exceptions to this being his own father and a young Joash Cawutt.

  As time went on, however, the people had begun to acknowledge him, speak to him, and finally accept him again as one of them. Now, as he was Commander of the Cant and a member of the Council, the tales of Lant’s early life seemed almost unimaginable to the young members of the Cant.

  Looking up at Lant, Nien felt the direction of the Commander’s address begin to shift.

  “As I’m sure you’ve all heard by now, I have received news from Master Monteray of Legran — it is true, the Ka’ull have made an inroad of our continent. Last revolution, I received word from the Empress of Quieness that some of her merchant ships had gone missing. There were also the reports from Master Monteray of other sightings in the lochs, inlets, and boundaries of our northingmost valleys and waterways. The tempest was stirring. Now, it is here. The valley of Lou did not fall, it was taken.”

  There was movement amongst the Cant members. Even Nien was shocked. Lant had never spoken openly of Master Monteray, SiQQiy of Quieness, or of Ka’ull sightings in the Northing.

  Once, Lant had told Nien that the truth could not be thrust into another’s face like a knife. That was the reason, Nien figured, why Lant had never been so forward.

  Until today.

  “When you return to your homes tonight,” Lant continued, “be steady and patient with your families. Some may be anxious or angry with worry. Many may never have heard of the valley of Lou until today. Let them know that their support of the Cant is the best thing they can do right now.”

  Lant passed his eyes over the large gathering of Cant members, his eyes finally coming to rest on Nien.

  Nien knew the look, it meant: Come to the hut.

  Lant bowed his head once and left the mound.

  Nien turned. “Well done, everyone. We’ll see you next turn.”

  Returning over the Cantfields, Nien located his gear amongst the piles of packs, swords, and various odd bits of thick leather armour the Cant members wore for mock-battle sessions. Eager to meet with Lant, he dropped to a knee and quickly set to removing his armour.

  Those nearest Nien nodded their respect as they gathered their gear and began to leave the field.

  Removing his waist girth, Nien was struggling with a long boot lace when he felt a hand light upon his shoulder.

  Glancing up, he said, “E’te, Carly. How’d it go?”

  One of only three women who had joined the Cant since its inception, Carly was the classic Rieevan, her light hazel eyes always happy, her pretty, round face smiling —

  Except for today.

  She didn’t answer his question, saying instead, “Well, that was new.”

  “E’te,” Nien agreed. “Lant is full of surprises.”

  “How’s Wing?”

  “I don’t know how he is. I came straight here after it happened.” Nien realized his reply was a little sharper than he’d intended but he’d been worried about Wing all day, wondering if he’d been right to take Joash’s advice to not ride out after him.

  “Now that we’re done here, maybe I should...” Carly started to say.

  “I’m heading home after I check in with Lant. I can let you know tomorrow.”

  Reluctantly, Carly nodded. “Well, Wing and I were planning on meeting up tomorrow. Guess I can wait…” she paused. “Ugh. We have the leadership meeting in the early afternoon, don’t we?”

  Nien nodded.

  Carly shook her head in annoyance. “I haven’t seen Wing for so long he’s probably gotten married and made two babies.”

  “You’d be the first to know anything about that,” Nien said with a wink. “Anyway, other than you, women have about as much luck getting Wing to see things their way as the Council does.” Nien’s fingers paused in the removal of his leg armour as he glanced back across the valley toward the far side where he imagined his brother working in the fields. “I haven’t seen him much either. He’s setting in some new rows of teeana and fa’s got him busy any spare time with the Vanc home.” He sighed.

  “What is it?” C
arly asked.

  “They’re so busy they could use my help. But I just can’t. I can’t spare the time from the Cant.” Especially now, he thought, with the news we received today. “And I’m trying to work out the possibility of the school.”

  “What?” Carly asked.

  “Nothing,” Nien said quickly. “Never mind.”

  “Listen,” Carly said. “We’re coming up on taking a few days off for the change of season. Who knows, Lant may disappear on one of his secret missions. You could take the time from extra Cant duties to help your father and Wing with the Vanc home — and so will I. I’m sure there’s something I can do. If I can pound Bredo into submission I should be able to drive home a nail.”

  Nien chuckled. “I guess you got it all worked out.” But a twinkle lit Carly’s eye. “Uh oh,” Nien said — he knew the look.

  “Still, I want to take one of those days to play.”

  “That’s what the festivals are for.” Nien hoped that would appease her.

  “Too long till Kive fest. I want to do something soon.”

  Nien furrowed his brow at her in question. “Like what?”

  “I want a day like we used to have when we were kids. Do some exploring. You know, something fun like” — she lowered her voice — “watching Wing fall into a hole.”

  “The Shy’teh Caves?” Nien replied, just as quietly. “That’s what you count as fun? No wonder you joined the Cant.” He returned to his unlacing. “I didn’t suspect we would ever try and go there again.”

  “Don’t you miss the things we used to do? Bleekla, finding an unfamiliar insect was fun back then.”

  “We’re adults now — having fun takes a lot of work. Just like plain old work takes a lot of work. And time.” Nien pulled the last of the leather laces from one of his shin guards and got to his feet. “Perhaps Lant wouldn’t be averse to a little get-together at his house.”

  But as they looked at one another they both understood that would not be a good idea, at least if they wanted Wing to show up.

  “Wing,” they said in unison.

  “Well, we’ll think of something,” Nien said.

  Carly removed the training guards from her sword and slid the muddied blade back into the leather sheath at her side. “Right now, I’m going to go get some sleep. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

  “Tomorrow.”

  Carly walked away, her tawny hair thick and playful about her shoulders.

  Chapter 6

  Commander Lant

  N ien shouldered his sheath and gear and started for the small hut that sat at the edge of the Cantfields.

  Knocking lightly upon the door frame, Nien heard, “Come on in.”

  Nien stepped through the thin fabric flap that served as the door to Commander Lant’s hut. The Commander’s large home was not far in the distance — the hut served as an immediate area for Cant meetings and administration.

  Nien stood for a moment before taking the chair in front of the desk. He had so many questions he didn’t know where to start and so decided to wait for Lant.

  The Commander was working, writing on a familiar piece of vellum Nien recognized as one sent back and forth between the Commander and his friend in Legran, Master Monteray.

  “Just a moment,” the Commander said without looking up. He penned another line, dotted it, and sliding the vellum aside to dry, set the writing brush back in its ink jar.

  He looked up at Nien then, and there was in the Commander’s face something Nien had not seen before. He wasn’t sure what it meant exactly, but it was sad and it was tired, whatever else it might be.

  “A couple turns ago, Master Monteray came himself. He stayed only a night. He’d already sent a messenger down river through Preak and on to Quieness and Empress SiQQiy.” There was a heavy weight to Lant’s pause before he said, “I apologize I did not tell you sooner, Nien. I struggled over the decision. Perhaps if I had, you could have warned Wing, but things spiraled out of control last night after my meeting with the Council…” Lant rubbed a hand across the back of his neck. His hazel green eyes, slightly cat-like in a way that had always reminded Nien of Wing’s eyes, focused on something internal before returning to Nien.

  “I tried to find Grek Occoju this morning — the Council had adjourned so frantically after I spoke to them that I was worried they might do…something. But the Council room was empty. I was already too late.”

  Lant drew a breath and Nien could tell he had to force himself to look up.

  “I am sorry, Nien, that I was not there this morning. I hadn’t known they would confront Wing so openly. I may be on the Council, but they do not tell me everything.”

  There was a long pause and still, Nien could think of nothing to say. He understood now Lant’s struggle, that the Commander had wanted to tell him, how everything had gone sideways. Still, he had so many questions he didn’t know where to start.

  Into the silence, Lant said, “It’s only going to get worse — for Wing — now that the people know Lou has been taken.”

  Nien’s throat tightened. He knew what he wanted to say now.

  “It was unbelievable, Lant. I laid a hand on my sword. I never dreamed of seeing our people like that.”

  Lant sat, quiet, waiting.

  “Wing doesn’t talk about it,” Nien said, “but I know what it’s doing to him. I don’t know how much more he can take.”

  “These past two turns since Monteray left, I considered heavily, Nien, not telling the Council. But I have coddled them too long.”

  “For us,” Nien said. “To protect my family.”

  “Yes,” Lant said, “but not only. At first, we needed to take it slowly with the Council as well as with the people. This last news from Master Monteray, however, has pushed us past that point.” Nien could tell it pained Lant to say his next words. “Should I try talking with Wing again? If he were in the Cant it might give him, and your family, a reprieve. And give us leverage with the Council.”

  Nien appreciated Lant’s impossible situation. The Commander was walking very fine lines, his loyalty tested on all sides as he was forced to balance his love for Nien and Wing and their family amid the Council’s constant needling regarding them. And then there was his tenuous position of being on the Council and, also, Commander of the Cant.

  “He won’t,” Nien said, referring to Wing. “Beleaguering him will only drive him further away.”

  Continually failing with Wing directly, the Rieevan Council’s latest efforts were focused on pressuring Lant, hoping the Commander could persuade Wing to join the Cant on the premise that the Leader spoken of in the Ancient Writings was a man of strength not just spiritually, but physically. Merehr would be a deliverer, a warrior, and Wing looked the part, if only they could convince his mind and get him to take up the sword.

  “How long do we keep obliging them?” Nien said. “It’s like they’ve evolved some kind of immunity to their own hypocrisy. For generations the Council was set against a military force of any kind — because of the prophecies in the Ancient Writings. And now they want the one they perceive as the fulfillment of those prophecies to join the Cant?” Nien drew an exasperated breath. “I know Wing’s silence on the matter hasn’t helped. I know it’s given the people license to impose their will and I doubt he’s ignorant of that fact. Nevertheless, and no matter how much they think they care, they are not his family.”

  “It’s been well over twenty revolutions since Rhegal disappeared.”

  Nien ground his teeth. “It shouldn’t be about how long it’s been. It shouldn’t be that if Merehr has not come, has not revealed himself by a certain time, that the people take it upon themselves to choose him.”

  Lant nodded empathetically. “I understand your frustration, my friend, and so much the worse when the object of the people’s desires is your own brother.” Lant paused. “This is not easy for any of us and, selfishly, I feel it has challenged my friendship with Wing.”

  Nien could see that Lant resented ha
ving his relationship with Wing held hostage by the Council.

  “Wing loves and respects you. He always has.”

  With a brief sigh — whether of acceptance or resignation Nien could not tell — Lant said, “I won’t call for him again.”

  Nien met the Commander’s eyes. “Thank you. And the Council?”

  “As we saw today, they will do what they will do.”

  Nien swallowed. He was afraid of that.

  “And what about us — what are we going to do now that we know?”

  There was that thing again in Lant’s eye. “What we are already doing, Nien. For now. We keep training. Saam keeps making weapons. He could use your help there, by the way.”

  Nien nodded and as the two men fell into a brief, encumbered silence, another rap came upon the hut door.

  “Fa?”

  “Pree K. Come in.”

  Nien turned back to see the Cant’s Premier Messenger duck in through the hut flap. In his twenty-third revolution, thin and wiry of body with light brown hair bleached blond by the sun, Pree K was Lant’s adopted son. His position as Premier Messenger had less to do with his father being the Commander and everything to do with a set of remarkable gifts all his own: exact memory and legs seemingly able to ride the wind. His gifts were all but wasted in Rieeve, however, other than those rare times when Lant asked him to deliver a message to Nien’s family at the far end of the valley.

  Like Nien, Pree K was not Rieevan but had been raised as one of them. Most figured it was because of Pree K that Lant had returned to Rieeve after his long absence. The Commander’s only explanation was that the child had been abandoned in a foreign valley.

  “Nien. Fa,” Pree K said in greeting, but upon taking in the severe mood in the hut said to Lant, “I, uh, can see you back at the house.”

  “No, it’s all right. There’s been enough talking for one day.” Lant shoved the paper and parchment on his desk into a slightly more organized clump and the three walked out into the twilight.