Only the Destined (The Way of Steel—Book 3)

CHAPTER ONE

Royce led the way across the heathlands, riding for the coast with the speed of a sent arrow, his hazel eyes fixed on his destination. His blond hair whipped around him while he rode, broad shoulders set with determination.

A quartet of figures rode with him, because more would have attracted too much attention. Mark rode next to him, his friend looking far stronger than he had at any point since Royce had found him, dark hair kept in place under a steel helmet, partial armor of one of the warriors of the Red Isle shining in the sun.

Matilde and Neave rode side by side, the former villager and the Picti girl occasionally glancing across to one another, looking very different. Matilde was red-haired and could have passed for angelic if she weren’t so fierce, while Neave had braided dark hair, and slightly darker skin tattooed in blue. Once Matilde had declared that she was going, Neave’s decision had been instant.

The one surprise came in the solid form of Sir Bolis, riding along in cobalt-edged armor that shone where its plates caught the sun and that proclaimed his wealth as much as his fighting skill. He was a year or two older than Royce, and Royce was certain that he only liked Royce a little better now than he had when Royce had first arrived at Earl Undine’s home. Royce couldn’t work out why he had come on this journey, but he couldn’t turn down the help.

Above him, his hawk, Ember, wheeled above the heather, and through her eyes Royce saw the route ahead laid out clearly, safe and flat all the way to the harbor at Ablaver. Once they got there, Royce was sure they would be able to find a ship that would take them to the Seven Isles, where the witch Lori had said that the Mirror of Wisdom was hidden.

There, they would be able to find his father.

That was a prospect that filled Royce with both anticipation and dread. Anticipation, because he wanted to find his father more than anything right then; needed to find him if he was going to bring him back to lead the fight against the nobles. The dread was because of the place they would have to visit to find him.

“You’re certain that we have to go to the Seven Isles?” Sir Bolis said.

Royce shrugged. “That’s what Lori said.”

Above him, the hawk shrieked in confirmation. Earl Undine had been able to tell Royce that his father had gone looking for the mirror, while the witch had been able to give Royce a location for it.

“And you’re going to set off across the sea on the word of a witch?” Sir Bolis demanded.

“You can always stay behind if you like,” Mark suggested, in a tone that said he obviously didn’t trust the knight.

“And trust something this important to criminals and Picti?” Sir Bolis demanded. Royce found himself wondering how someone so young could still manage to sound so pompous.

“You have a problem with my people, interloper?” Neave demanded, reaching for a knife.

“That’s enough,” Royce said. “This is going to be difficult enough as it is. We need to work together.”

Almost to his surprise, the others stopped their bickering.

“They trust you,” Mark said, as the others rode clear of one another a little. “When you lead, people follow.”

“Is that why you’re coming with me?” Royce asked.

Mark shook his head. “You know it isn’t.”

“Even though you think the Seven Isles are dangerous?”

“They

are

dangerous,” Mark insisted. “There are creatures there that… they’re not even close to human. There are troll things and the wights of the dead, and worse. Are you

sure

this is where we have to go?”

How could Royce explain it? How could he explain what he’d seen with Lori, the old woman becoming young again and seeing so much? She’d told him where his father was, and Royce had to look, no matter how difficult it was.

“I’m sure,” he said instead.

“Well, you’ve saved my life often enough,” Mark said. “Where you go, I’ll follow.”

Royce couldn’t say how grateful he was to hear that. With everything that lay in front of them… except that it

wasn’t

what lay in front of him that worried him most. It was what he’d left behind. He’d only just become engaged to Olivia, and his thoughts kept drifting back to Earl Undine’s daughter, wishing that they’d had more time together before he’d had to leave… and if her face sometimes shifted in his mind’s eye, becoming closer to Genevieve’s… well, he was at least able to push those thoughts from his mind.

Royce pressed on, focusing on the ride ahead so he wouldn’t have to think about Genevieve, or the way she’d pushed him aside, or the speed with which everything with Olivia had happened.

He was still thinking about it when Ember swooped down, her claws digging into Royce’s shoulder as she landed. She called out, but the voice Royce heard was Lori’s, the witch’s words coming through clearly into his mind.

“Follow the bird, Royce. She will lead you to someone you need to meet.”

Ember took off, and Royce found himself following the hawk with his eyes, wondering just how much control of her the witch had, and just what Lori’s intentions were. She’d already told him that she saw violence and death in his future, already blamed him in part for the things that had happened in the village. There was no reason for Royce to think that she wanted to help him.

Except she

did

seem to be helping, and since she knew where his father was, all Royce could do was trust her. Royce followed the hawk, riding as Ember flew out across the heather toward a spot where a single turf-topped longhouse stood, smoke pouring from a spot in front of it.

There was a fire there, and it looked as though everything from furniture to clothing had been burned in it, the remains still smoking as it burned lower. Two bodies lay next to the fire, clad in the remains of what looked like soldiers’ uniforms. They were so blood-soaked that it was hard to see which side they had been on. Royce couldn’t see anyone around, though.

“Hello?” he called, dismounting. “Is there anybody there?”

He kept his hand on the hilt of the crystal sword by his side, not sure if there would be bandits here, or some other enemy. Clearly

someone

else had been here to kill the men, and not long ago, but now the house looked empty, the door hanging open as though it had been kicked in.

Then he heard growling from the open doorway, and turned to see a creature standing there, yellow-eyed and snarling.

“Wolf!” Matilde called out as her horse reared.

It

wasn’t

quite a wolf, though. This creature was larger, and there was something almost as foxlike as lupine about it. Its teeth were just as long, though, and its claws looked sharp. It was covered in blood, and it seemed obvious that it was the blood of the men there.

“Not a wolf,” Neave said. “A bhargir, a magical thing.”

“Just a big wolf,” Sir Bolis said, dismounting and drawing his sword.

“

Not

a wolf,” Neave insisted. “My people have stories about these things. Some say that they’re created by evil magicians, others say they’re the souls of the dead, or men who wear the skins of stitched together beasts and become something more.”

Whatever the creature was, it looked angry. It growled, pacing forward, and Royce found those great yellow eyes fixed on him. For a moment, Royce thought that maybe the creature would leap at him. Then Ember landed on his shoulder again.

“His name is Gwylim.”

“Who?” Royce asked. “What’s happening here, Lori?”

But the bird took flight again, and Royce suspected he wouldn’t have gotten any answers even if she hadn’t. He looked back to see Sir Bolis moving forward, sword raised as if to strike down the beast.

“It’s all right,” he said. “I’ll deal with it.”

The knight started to swing his blade, and almost without thinking, Royce leapt in the way, catching hold of the young knight’s arm.

“Wait,” he said. “

Wait

, Bolis.”

He felt the knight back down in the face of that, but Bolis still kept his blade at the ready.

“That thing has killed two men, and it’s threatening us,” Bolis said. “We should kill it so it doesn’t hurt anyone else!”

“Not yet,” Royce said. He looked over to the… what was it Neave had called it? A bhargir? He could see now that not all of the blood on it was the men’s. There was a wound on its side, running the length of its flank. No wonder the creature was snarling.

“Gwylim?” Royce asked.

Almost as soon as he said it, the growling stopped and the bhargir cocked its head to one side, regarding him with far more intelligence than a wolf had a right to.

“You can understand some of what I’m saying, can’t you?” Royce guessed. “The witch Lori sent me. If she knows your name, maybe you know her?”

The creature clearly had no way of replying, but even so, it seemed to settle down, moving over to Royce and lying at his feet. As the bhargir did so, Royce noticed something that seemed impossible: the wound on its side was starting to close, knitting together with almost impossible speed. There was definitely nothing normal about this creature.

Royce wasn’t sure what he was supposed to do. Lori had obviously directed him to this creature for a reason, but what reason? He looked in the house, trying to work it out, but the house seemed bare of everything, its contents clearly forming a part of the fire in front of it. Why would raiders like the two dead men do something like that?

Unsure of an answer, Royce moved back to his horse. He found the bhargir watching him, sitting behind the fire, close enough that its eyes glowed in the heat of it.

“I don’t know what to do with you,” he said. “But I guess you might be clever enough to decide that for yourself. Do you want to come with us?”

In answer to that, the wolf-like beast padded forward to sit beside Royce’s horse. Somehow, Royce suspected that it would have no problem in keeping up.

“We’re taking monsters with us now?” Sir Bolis asked.

“It’s no stranger than the rest of us,” Matilde said.

“It’s a lot more dangerous,” Neave said, her expression serious. “This is not a good idea.”

Good idea or not, Royce was sure that it was the thing he was meant to do. He pushed his horse forward, heading in the direction of Ablaver, with Ember above, leading the way. If the bird held any clue as to why he’d been brought to find the bhargir that followed now, it didn’t offer any answers.

The town of Ablaver hit Royce with its smell before he saw it, the scent of fish mixed in with the sea in a way that proclaimed what happened there. It was a smell that made him want to turn away and head back, but he kept going.

The sight of it wasn’t much of an improvement, made ugly by the whaling stations to one side, where something about the sight of such large, beautiful creatures being gutted made Royce want to retch. He didn’t, but it was an effort.

“We can’t tell people who we are,” he warned the others.

“Because a group with both Picti and knights could be

anyone,

” Mark pointed out.

“If people ask, we’re mercenaries leaving the war, looking for our next engagement,” Royce said. “People will probably assume that we’re deserters, or bandits, or something like that.”

“I don’t want people thinking that I’m a bandit,” Bolis said. “I’m a loyal warrior of Earl Undine!”

“And right now the best way you can be loyal is to pretend to be something else,” Royce said. The knight seemed to get the message. He even smeared mud on his shield, muttering all the while, so that no one would see the heraldry there. “Everyone keep your hoods up. Especially you, Neave.”

Royce wasn’t sure how the inhabitants of the town would react to one of the Picti among them. He didn’t want to have to fight his way through a whole town. It was bad enough that Gwylim was still pacing beside them, looking far too large and frightening for a wolf.

They walked into the place, looking around the ramshackle buildings while heading down toward the docks and the waiting ships. Most of them were little more than fishing boats, but some of the whaling ships were larger, and in among them were cogs and long ships that looked as though they might have been there to trade.

There were taverns where Royce could hear the sounds of drunken celebration and occasional violence, and market stalls where it seemed that rancid meat and fine foreign goods were set side by side.

“We should spread out,” Matilde said. She seemed to be eyeing a tavern.

Royce shook his head. “We need to stay together. We’ll head to the docks, find a ship, and

then

we can explore.”

Matilde didn’t look happy with that, but even so, they headed down to the docks. There, things appeared to be proceeding lazily, with sailors up on the decks of ships standing around or sitting in the sun.

“How do we do this?” Mark asked, looking around. “I guess finding a captain who will head to the Seven Isles won’t be easy.”

Royce wasn’t sure there was a good answer to that. As far as he could see, there was only one option, and it was anything but subtle.

“Listen to me!” he called out over the vague hubbub of the docks. “I need a ship. Is there a captain here who is willing to sail to the Seven Isles?”

“Is this entirely wise?” Bolis asked.

“How else are we going to find someone?” Royce asked. Even if they walked into the taverns and asked quietly, the news would quickly get around. Maybe this way was even better. He raised his voice. “I’ll ask again: who will take us to the Seven Isles?”

“Why do you want to go there?” a man’s voice called. The man who strode forward wore the bright silks of a merchant, and was barrel bellied with too much good living.

“I’ve business there,” Royce said, not wanting to give away more than that. “There are people who would hire my and my companions’ skills.”

The man came further forward. Royce watched his face, searching for any sign that the man had recognized them. There was nothing, though.

“As what?” the man asked. “Are you jesters, jugglers?”

Royce thought quickly. Maybe they

couldn’t

pass for mercenaries so easily, but this…

“Of course,” he said. He very carefully didn’t look Bolis in the eye. “We have an engagement in the Seven Isles.”

“The money must be good for you to go there,” the captain said. “Which means you can pay, yes?”

Royce took out a small pouch. “Up to a point.”

If it got them to where his father was, he would pay every crown in the purse and more. He threw the purse in the captain’s direction. The other man caught it.

“Is that enough?” Royce asked.

That was the other danger. The captain could turn around and take the money, running back to his ship, and if Royce did anything to try to stop him, it would only make it clear who he was. For a moment, everything seemed to stop.

Then the captain nodded. “Aye, it’s enough. I’ll get you to the Seven Isles in one piece. After that though, you’re on your own.”