The Guild House Series
Defenders Hall
Lines of Fire
Prologue
Whispers of the grief to come slithered through Alric’s thoughts. He
knelt beside his father’s bed and brushed the older man’s hand. The lines of
fire on his father’s skin, once bright scarlet, had faded to pale pink. Thought
the end approached, Alric wasn’t ready to see his father pass from life into
the abyss of death.
“Papa,” he whispered. "The men of the Guild Houses and their
bondmates arrive in just five days to test me for admission into the Defenders
Hall.” His words were a plea for his father to remain with him for that time.
The older man’s eyes opened. The pain Alric saw brought wetness to his
eyes. When his father died, there would be no relative to witness the acceptance
as a Defender trainee. From the moment his father had given Alric a wooden
sword and shown him the ways one could be used, he had desired to leave the
village and pursue more training.
With fierce determination, Alric sought to infuse some of his vitality
into his father. As always, the attempt failed. Why could the lines of fire be
used to halt the flow of blood and to not achieve a return to vitality? Alric
groaned. If he had been on the wood-cutting trip into the forest, he could have
helped his father and the other man. A boar had gored and broken their bodies.
The other lumberman had died. Alric’s father had lingered and suffered.
“Son.”
The harsh whisper startled Alric. His father hadn’t spoken once in the
ten days since his shattered body had been carried to the village.
“Papa.”
“Listen. Be Defender.”
“I promise.”
“Swordmaster. Enemy. Lines of fire. Not all can see,”
Alric frowned. What die his father mean? Was the Swordmaster the reason
his father’s bond had been broken and he had been banished to this distant
village? Why should the lines remain a secret? Before he had a chance to ask
his father spoke again.
“Find sibs.”
Alric’s head jerked up. “Sibs. I have none.”
“One boy. One girl. Too young to steal away. Just you.”
This new information rocked Alric’s thoughts. “I will find them.”
“Bracelet. Take. Use. True mate.”
New ideas and new demands swamped Alric. Questions rattled like nuts
falling from the trees in autumn.
“Save. Defenders. Restore old ways. Promise.”
“I will.” Alric wasn’t sure what he had promised but his father’s words
flowed through his thoughts the way the lines of fire flowed over his skin. He
pressed his forehead against his father’s hand and slammed shut the gates of
grief.
The rattled breathing slowed and began again. Each stop and start brought
a welling of tears closer to the surface. The sound stopped. Alric waited. He
raised his head. The lines of fire on his father’s skin vanished.
Gut churning sobs began and wracked Alric’s body. When the storm of tears
stopped Alric rose. With leaden steps he walked to the cabin door to summon the
village women to care for his father’s corpse.
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