Wolf Soldier Chapter Two

CHAPTER TWO

Connor sat on a split-log bench in the hearth room of his family’s cottage. The unbelievable letter lay open beside him. *Cottage* was Mehma’s word. *Grotto*, *cave*, or *hole* fit better. The dwellings of Stonyvale had been dug from the valley walls—caverns of refuge, centuries old and dressed with homey facades by families who’d never moved on after the dragon war ended.

He rested his chin on his knees and lifted his eyes upward to the painting over the fire. Faelin Enarian, the patehpa Connor never knew, stood defiant on the canvas, a young man in dark blue steel etched with gold scrollwork, a great silver wolf at his hip. Connor had never fully worked out the wolf’s tameness or wildness. At times, he detected a smile in the curl of its lip. At others, he saw the beginnings of a snarl.

Faelin’s hand rested lightly on a tall sword slung at his side, partially covering the deep purple jewel in its pommel—a starlot, forged in a crucible of ice and dragon fire on the day the Celestial Peaks came to be. Starlots were the tokens of those who had crossed the barrier. They were the tokens of the Lightraider Order. Or so Connor had heard. The Lightraider Order, like his patehpa, was no more.

Over the last two generations, the Keledan had huddled down in the peace and safety of their land, none daring to defy the Assembly’s command—until now.

Biting his lip, Connor raised the letter to read it once more.

*Connor Enarian of Stonyvale,*

*Greetings and Blessings to You,*

*Four birds have I sent since high summer, and four birds have returned to Glimwick the ravenmaster bringing no reply. I must admit I am aghast at your rudeness. Yet I hold out hope for some justification, as you are Faelin Enarian’s grandson.*

*At worst, you are dead, and so this rudeness might be forgiven. At best, my letters have gone astray. This is what the Helper has pressed upon my heart. Thus, I am sending this final notice in the care of our parcelman Barnabas. After this, I am afraid there can be no further letters. There is no time. The harvest is nearly upon us.*

*As stated in the other messages, I am pleased to inform you that Lightraider Academy is opening its gates after remaining empty these many years. The Order will be restored. You, as one among twenty potentials, have been chosen for the inaugural class, should you pass the entry trial. The Order once called it the Initiate’s Quest, but that was long ago. For now, let us just say you will be tested.*

*Look for me at Ravencrest on the first night of the harvest moons. At dawn on the morning after, we begin our climb to the fortress. Pray do not be late. Once the company departs for Ras Telesar, no potentials may join us. Doors do not remain open forever. That is the way of things.*

*In the Rescuer’s Mighty Name,*

*Avner Jairun*

*Last and Latest Headmaster*

*Lightraider Academy*

Connor dropped the letter onto the bench and returned his gaze to the painting. Faelin would have raced off to Ravencrest. Connor could easily do the same. Tehpa and Mehma were in the birthing stall catching a new lamb. That very moment, he could steal a bite from the cupboards, take the family mare, and slip away. The letter spurred his dreams for a life beyond counting sheep.

The letter also dredged up nightmares born of Tehpa’s dark stories, and the nightmares overpowered the dreams. So, Connor sat there, unable to move.

The cottage door swung open. A breeze tousled Connor’s brown hair as Mehma hurried past with her water pail. Behind her, Tehpa lingered at the threshold. He tossed his birthing apron in the corner. “You didn’t stay for the birthing, boy. I feared we might come in and find you ill.” He forced a laugh. “And here I find you reading, of all things.”

Connor did not have patience for Tehpa’s roundabout manner—not this evening. “Why, Father?” he asked, using the formal diction to show him the graveness of his mood. “Why would you hide this from me? What right did you have?”

“I had every right.” Tehpa stepped between Connor and the hearth. “My sehna, *my son*, far from having a house of his own, is receiving ravens? I am your tehpa who loves you. Those letters rightfully came to me first, and I disposed of them for your protection.”

“Do you mean protection from ravens or from a life beyond these caves?”

“A life?” Tehpa let out a sharp laugh. “Where? In Tanelethar? The Dragon Lands? The Assembly closed the academy for good reason. The Order’s raids brought death to their knights and pain to our people—our family. Faelin, your patehpa, gave up his life for folly. And the headmaster at Ras Telesar sped him on his way.”

“Avner Jairun is a great man.”

“Avner Jairun is a senile old crackpot hiding in the hills.” Tehpa snatched the letter from Connor’s hand and shook it at him. “Are you so eager to face the darkness, boy?”

Connor glared at him for another heartbeat, then dropped his gaze to the rushes lining the floor.

“I didn’t think so.”

A loud *thock* interrupted their argument. Two halves of a lettuce head fell apart, split by Mehma’s cleaver. “Calm yourself, Edwin,” she said with a stern look he’d never have suffered from anyone else. “Connor only wants to—”

“This is a fool’s quest, Mara.” He turned to the hearth, crumpling the letter in his fist. “Even if Avner had license from the Assembly to open those gates, I’d not let Connor go. I gave my father for the Order’s cause. I will not give my son!” He cast the parchment into the fire and stormed away.

Connor watched the letter burn and blacken. The wax seal lingered. For an instant, the star shined bright blue, then melted away.

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