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A Herald's Need	By : sumthinelse Category: S through Z > Valdemar Series Views: 6874 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own The Valdemar Series, nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
- 1-A Herald's Need
- 1
Alberich had done the unthinkable. And truly without thought. He had purpose in life, it was solely to protect the Queen. Young Selenay who had inherited her crown in the heat of battle. The brave and intelligent woman who had infused her people with hope in her moment of greatest despair. He’d seen her fight with the fierceness of a caged animal in order to try to reach her father’s side when he made the decision to sacrifice his life in order to save his people. He, himself, had defended her from a band of would-be kidnappers. When she’d fallen to the ground, thrown by both her companion, and Myste, a scholarly Herald, she’d been a girl. When Selenay had risen to her feet, consumed with grief, she’d been a different person entirely. He’d been so moved by her dedication and strength that he made the tragic mistake of forgetting how young she was.
When the young queen had fallen in love with the Prince of Rethwellan, Alberich had had his suspicions and uneasy feelings about the handsome young man. Being a foreigner, a man, and a soldier, he’d not known to to broach the subject of his instincts to a young woman who was clearly smitten. Her own Herald, Talamir, had faced the same problem. He had been the closest possible friend to her father, but did not enjoy the same easy bond with Sendar’s child. Now, Alberich had to deal with the consequences of his own shortcomings that had led to the most recent events. He had killed the Queen’s husband, with the Prince’s own sword. He’d not been given enough time to come up with a better plan. He’d only known what his vision had shown him and he’d raced to her side.
Selenay did not know what was coming on her daily ride into the forest. Alberich had not told her what lay in wait for them. He’d just insisted on coming with her and bringing his more gifted students with him. When the ambush came, it was a quick and furious fight. It left the Prince Consort dead, but Selenay was alive. Now, as he paced his room, Alberich tried to think of a way that he should have stopped it. He was flushed with anger. He still wore his leathers, dried blood caked in places. Selenay was safe, he left her with her personal guards, but she hadn’t wanted to see him. There was a knock at his door.
"Enter." He barked. It opened and Myste walked in. She was the last person he wanted to see right now, "Come for the record, have you?" He asked, his voice hollow and ragged.
"No." She said simply. Her hair was damp from bathing, her spectacles glittered in the lamp light. She knew that Alberich would not care much for offers of sympathy. He was a soldier and not ready to hear words of comfort. As an honorable man he would not yet seek comfort for himself because he didn’t think he deserved it.
"Why are you here?" He knew his voice to be sharp, but he couldn’t seem to stop himself. If he drove her away now, she wouldn’t ask too many questions. He couldn’t let her know what he was thinking right now. He needed time to build up his defenses. One of Myste’s gifts was to be able to detect lies without the assistance of a truth spell. He couldn’t bear for her to know the truth right now. To know that today’s "accident" was not just an accident, and that he could have prevented it if he had been stronger. There were few people who knew what had happened today, and until the Prince’s family was contacted and Selenay was feeling capable of dealing with the reality of the situation, that her husband had conspired to kill her, it would remain a hunting accident.
Myste said nothing, she just moved to sit at his desk. He continued to pace. :Did you call her?: He asked Kantor, his Companion.
:You need to talk to someone.: Came the reply. Then there was silence when he reached out to Kantor again. The fiend decided he needed to talk to another Herald and was giving him no choice.
"You have blood on your shirt." Myste said, her hazel eyes blinking owlishly at him from behind her spectacles. There was no judgement in them, no pity, no emotion that he could read. Alberich looked down, There were a few spatters on his sleeves, and one larger stain on the front of his tunic. The Prince’s lifeblood. He thought. He removed his tunic and jerkin, stripping to the waist and filling the basin in the bathing room with cold water. His movements were quick and precise. He splashed water onto his torso and neck and arms. He felt a warm hand on his shoulder and turned quickly. Myste held out a towel to him.
"I’ve no need of a nursemaid." He said, snatching the towel from her hands. He began blotting the water from his chest. Myste’s eyes traveled down the sinewey arms and shoulders. There were patches of skin that were puckered and paler than the rest of him. She knew it was from the fire that had nearly taken him years before. After one of his visions allowed him to stop a band of raiding bandits from laying waste to a defenseless villiage, a priest had condemned him as a witch and his own men had beaten him, breaking bones and knocking him almost unconscious. He’d been thrown into a small shed and a fire had been set to try and "Cleanse" him. If it hadn’t been for Kantor ruthlessly trampling any opposition waiting outside and crashing throught the burning building to save him, he’d have surely perished.
Alberich was a man of great faith in his God. Almost too much it seemed, for he took his faith to a level that made him feel responsible for everyone who came under his eye. Myste knew this, and she knew that he had some emotions he needed to express even if it was in anger. He wasn’t likely to open up to her, so she tried the next best thing.
"It’s too bad you couldn’t save the Prince as well." She said, inwardly wincing at what she was about to do. It had the desired effect. All of the muscles in the Herald’s chest and arms tensed. She could see his knuckles whiten in the folds of the towel. "Even with your other students there." She prompted, keeping her voice even and mild. "Selenay must be grieving for her beloved."
"Yes." He said. And she had him. He was lying. He was hiding something more.
"You probably feel like you should have done something to protect him." Alberich knew it was a trap she was setting for him, but he couldn’t seem to stop himself from anwering.
"Yes." She would know. Through the rumor mill, and the Companions, information had spread enough so that there was speculation as to how the Prince took a sword wound in a hunting accident. The scholar worked with Dean Elcarth and there was little she didn’t hear. She stood and he turned away from her to sit down and unlace his boots. She walked up and stood by his knee. He didn’t look at her.
"Isn’t that your job?" She asked. Alberich was so quick that she didn’t even see him start to move. One minute he was unlacing his boots, the next, she had her back pressed against the wall of his room. His hands were like bands of iron on her upper arms.
"To protect the Qu my my job is." He hissed through his teeth. "From anyone who would do her harm." Myste swallowed audibly but didn’t back down. His face was a mask of cold rage, but she knew there was pain behind the mask.
"Couldn’t you protect her heart?" The lady Herald started to push his hands away but he held fast and she winced slightly as his grip pressed tendon to bone. "Won’t she be suffering now that her husband is dead?"He turned his face away and she pushed, she had to break through the wall he’d raised tonight, before he could lock everyone out permanantly. Now, when his blood was still up, she had to force a reckoning with Alberich and himself. And most importantly, the truth. "It’s because of you that she has no husband."
"No!" The word came out in Karsite, he didn’t realize that he’d switched into his own language. "I had to protect her." He said, shaking her shoulders, making them bang painfully against the wall behind her. His expression moved away and Myste knew he didn’t see her or the room around them. "Even if it was from her husband." He shook his head, "Even if it was from herself." His dark head drooped and he pressed his face into her shoulder.
"I know." The Herald said to her former weaponsmaster. "You had no choice." Alberich lifted his gaze and he was back in the present. He looked at the woman in front of him and took a quick step back, releasing her . She sagged stightly. He shook his head and turned away. He didn’t touch women in anger like this. He fought them with swords and injured them in training all the time, but he didn’t strike out at them because of his own emotions. He was ashamed of his loss of control.
"I-" He began, reaching out a consciliatory hand. "I’m sorry." He looked at her face; she was slightly pale, and trembled a little, but she didn’t appear to be afraid of him. He straightened his shoulders. "You shouldn’t be around me right now." He said, re-gaining his control. Myste’s lips firmed in a thin line.
"No." She spoke the one word calmly and left little room for argument. "I won’t leave." The soldier gritted his teeth, she was very stubborn. He moved toward the door, but Myste intercepted him and placed her hand on his bare upper arm. "Neither are you." He glanced at her, raising an eyebrow. Then she surprised him by stepping forward and wrapping a hand around the back of his neck to pull his head down to her. The first touch of her lips surprised him. It jolted him with something akin to a static shock. He pullled away in surprise. Her eyes were dark with concern and something else.
"I don’t want your pity." He said. Trying to fight down the emotions welling up inside of him. What surprised him next was the flat of her palm connecting with his cheek. He blinked, it had hurt, she wasn’t holding back, and now she was angry.
"I’m not giving it." She snapped. "Are you blind or just a fool?" She shook her head at him in amazement. "For someone with ForeSight you are truly unaware of what’s right in front of you." Realization came crashing into him with much more force than the slap, though witsimisimilar effect. In the midst of his anger and self-loathing, another emotion was pushing its way up. When he didn’t speak, Myste turned to leave. Almost of their own accord, his hands reached out to stop her.
Alberich spun the Herald Chronicler around and pulled her forward, kissing her firmly on the lips. He wasn’t accustomed to this kind of emotional display. His experience with women was that of most unmarried soldiers. He met his needs with the occasional barmaid or whore, but this was very different. His lips moved over hers in an urgent fashion, but he remembered himself and softened the kiss. Myste responded by putting her arms around his neck and kissing him back. A new passion flooded through him, the feelings he’d been hiding were now bubbling to the surface. His pain and his guilt made his skin burn like the fires that had almost claimed him many years before. They mixed with something else, something almost sweet that had been growing in him since he’d first been challenged by the intellect of a middle-aged Herald who couldn’t fight with any weapon but who had managed to crush the barriers around his heart.
Alberich didn’t feel his feet move, but there he was in his bedchamber, pushing Myste beneath him on the mattress. He forced himself to slow his movements, he knew sex, but lovemaking was a skill that he’d not bothered with. Now the former soldier mentally kicked himself for that serious lack of vision. She didn’t seem to mind. She removed her glasses before raining kisses over his face and neck. She ran her fingertips lightly over his back and shoulders. He shivered involuntarily. With the efficiency he was famous for, he divested her of her clothes and took time to enjoy the softer curves of her body. Once he’d shed his own leather pants, she encouraged him to enter her body.
It was an exquisite joining. Alberich felt Myste’s body surounding him, as well as the gentle touch of her mind. She made love with the same straightforward honesty that she applied to all of their meetings, but with an unexpected shyness that flattered him. When he heard the soft cries mademade as she came to her pleasure, he pressed deeply within her body and embraced her with his mind, opening up to her as the waves of his own climax washed over him.
When Alberich’s vision cleared, he lay in a sweaty tangle of arms and legs. He felt Kantor in the back of his mind. The Companion was not intruding, just letting him know that he was around. He brushed the damp strands of hair from Myste’s face and his featured softened.
"How did you know to come here?" He asked, tugging a blanket over them both.
"Kantor." Her voice was husky and her breath was still a little fast. "He didn’t tell me what happened, just that you might need to talk to someone."
"I guess he was right."
- 1
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A Herald's Need