If I Were a Herald

Chapter Two

Vrondi's Eyes

Well, wasn't I in a fine mess. Chosen to be a Herald when I'd much rather be a Bard—or a pirate. When I'd much rather be anywhere but where I was at that moment. I wanted to go home.

I suppose I could've built a Gate back home, but I really didn't want to risk it. If it happened like before, I'd be sucked through before I could gather up all my stuff, which was currently about thirty yards away, strewn across the hill. A lot of that was stuff I intended to keep until I had teenage children of my own. If they were anything at all like me, they wouldn't give a damn that the clothes were a couple decades out of style—or even more than that, depending on which outfit they picked. I had stuff that would've been more common in the seventies than it was today. On Earth, that was.

Maybe I'll be able to start a few new trends in Valdemar.

Then again, maybe not, I thought as Lyrna whuffed my hair, her breath hot against my neck. Bloody horse. Bet I have to wear Trainee Grays from now on.

"Do I have to be a Herald?" I demanded, feeling rather foolish about talking to a horse. I knew, intellectually, that she was quite as intelligent as I was, but that was different than knowing in my heart. I talked to my cat all the time, but that was like talking to a child. I figured that wouldn't go over too well with Lyrna. And there was something, something watching, though I couldn't see anything when I turned around.

:Well, I suppose you could refuse.:

"Hey, that's right. Like they told Alberich. Something about being able to break the bond."

:Who is Alberich:

"Um, did I Gate to the wrong Valdemar? Surely you know about Herald Alberich."

:I know of no Herald named Alberich. That's a Karsite name.:

"Wait a minute. What year is it?"

:You're joking, right:

"I'm dead serious. I'm from a different world. Our year is 2005. Yours?"

:The year is 1313.:

"Hey, cool year. And absolutely no help. Who's King?"

:Roald: replied the Companion.

That wasn't any help either. "Have you heard of the mercenaries Tarma and Kethry? Er, they were in Idra's Sunhawks, the mercenary company led by the princess of Rethwellan."

:Certainly I've heard of them. The Bards adore them. There are at least twenty songs about them.:

"So are they still alive?"

:As far as I know. They're retired now, though. I heard they set up a mage school.:

"Yeah, that's right. Okay, I've got some idea of time frame now, at least. And I think I know why you don't know about Alberich."

Lyrna poked around in my head until she found the information I was trying to withhold from her. :You know the future? But I sense no ForeSight in you.:

"Well there goes that hope. Just—agh, I'll see if this works. It's something I've always wanted to try." I MindSent the relevant information to her in one big bundle.

My Companion neighed her surprise. :Well that's one way to send information, I suppose.:

I waited while she sorted through the information.

:Oh my. What a strange world you come from.:

"Yeah, well, it's my home. But I suppose I'll adapt. That seems to be what I do best. That and write." I rolled my eyes skyward. "Why couldn't I have been a Bard?"

:You don't have the Gift: Lyrna informed me.

"Okay. So what? I have a talent for singing, and I can write music. That's the two requirements out of three." I was a bit disappointed to hear that I didn't have the Bardic Gift. There was something in me, something I felt sometimes when I was singing. Since my arrival in Valdemar, I had come to hope that it might mean that something magical took place when I sang. There was magic in the music, I could feel it. The power. It wasn't always there, but sometimes. Sometimes. A moment captured in song, my heart and soul poured into the music. Like a great work of art, a picture capturing the moment or the person's soul.

:You will do more good as a Herald. You wouldn't have made a very good Bard.:

I snorted and began to gather up my belongings. I wouldn't make a very good Herald, either.

There was my sword, in its black leather scabbard, looking none the worse for the long distance traveled. A beautiful piece of work, it was an antique from the Civil War. A Confederate blade. I liked to think that it was folded steel, with gold filigree laid into the handle, although I doubted it was real gold. It looked pretty, and I liked the balance, and that was all I really cared about.

The sword itself hadn't even been in the trunk, it had been lying on top because it wouldn't fit. Because of this it was furthest away from the place where the Gate had appeared.

The sword couldn't go in the trunk, that much I realized right off. I'd have to pack everything else and close the trunk for easy transportation. It would be best if I wore the sword. So I fished through the assorted junk until my hand encountered a belt that matched the sword. Great find, that—I'd gotten it for four bucks at Bealls Outlet. I strapped on belt and sword and set to work stuffing the rest of my effects back into my trunk.

:A sword: Somehow that horse managed to look surprised. :And here I thought you wouldn't know one end of a blade from another.:

"Thanks for the vote of confidence, horseface. For your information, I actually know how to fence. Intellectually. Actually scoring points on my opponent is another matter entirely." I closed the lid and secured it. "Where to now?"

:Heraldic Collegium. Follow me.:

On the way, I did my best to get my bearings. A rather difficult endeavor, seeing as I was a directionally challenged freshman who couldn't find her own home with a map and a guide. I'd taken a map test in Caribbean History; the evaluation was about what I'd expected. The teacher told me that my navigational skills were seriously lacking. Of course, that was also a map. I never was very good with maps.

The Collegium rose before me, a large grey stone building that I guess was supposed to be imposing. Not so much with the palace looming over it, and not so much when I'd spent a week at West Point Military Academy. Those walls were several feet thick, and we lived in a literal barracks.

The trunk had wheels, but it was still a bloody heavy burden, and I was glad to be able to set it down when we reached our destination.

:That's Karlene: Lyrna said, directing my attention to a motherly young woman in Whites who was bustling toward us. :She's in charge of new trainees.:

Then the bloody horse turned and left—going back to the Companions' Field, no doubt.

"Ahoy," I greeted Karlene. "I'm Kali. Lyrna says your name is Karlene."

"That's right," she replied. "I'm in charge of new trainees."

"Yeah, she said that too. Look, how long does this training thing usually take? I mean, I just finished four years of high school, and I don't want to go through that again."

"It depends on how well you do in your classes. You'll be given your Whites when you're ready for them."

"You don't know how glad I am to hear you say that. Nothing you throw at me can me as difficult as Calc III."

"I don't know what Calc-Three is, but you wouldn't be saying that if you knew Weaponsmaster Eduard."

"He can't be worse than the Sergeants at West Point, and I went there willingly." It was beginning to look like I might get my wish after all. West Point had been my first choice college, but I hadn't managed to secure a Congressional nomination, so I'd gone to my second choice, NCF, which was its exact opposite in every respect except academics. Army-Navy game was a huge deal at West Point; New College didn't even have a football team. At West Point you had to make your bed every morning, and leave the door open to ninety degrees at all times—two people of opposite genders weren't even allowed to sit on the same horizontal surface; at New College, they didn't care what your room looked like, the RA's gave the free condom speech several times during orientation—there were free condoms everywhere—and you coordinated with your roommates over when would be a good time to be "sexiled." West Point had a uniform; New College didn't even require you to wear shoes to class, some of the guys wore kilts, guys didn't have to wear shirts, and girls could wear something so skimpy it wouldn't count as a shirt in most places. I'd been known to wander around campus wearing camo face-paint, or dressed as a pirate. I loved it at New College, but West Point was where I'd really wanted to go.

Now, this place might not be a West Point, but it was sure as shitfire a battle school, and that was good enough for me.

"Do we get to march in formation?" I asked.

"You're an odd one. No, you don't march in formation. They do that in the army. We're Heralds, not infantry." She stole a glance at my trunk. "How'd you manage to bring that all the way here? Usually our unexpected ones show up with nothing more than the clothes on their backs. And I don't remember Lyrna going on a Choosing journey."

I was about to tell her about the Gate when I remembered that there hadn't been any real magic in Valdemar since Vanyel's time. "I got lost," I said shortly. "Ran away from home, ended up in the Companions' Field, and got myself Chosen."

"Do you have any real talents? Especially for housework. Everyone has to help out, highborn or peasant. There are no class distinctions here."

"Hey, just like back home. Um, I'm good at scrubbing floors, and I can wield a broom with the best of them. For anything else I'd need to see what kind of supplies you have here. I'm used to some real sophisticated stuff. Other stuff would include singing. My voice is untrained, but maybe I could take some classes at Bardic?" I gave her my best puppy-dog eyes.

"I'll see if I can arrange it. Do you have any other interests?"

"I could probably tutor other students in mathematics. I act and write as well. Do you have tennis here? No, didn't think so. Don't suppose you have any idea what I'm talking about when I say Stargate. I'm really gonna miss that. I like archery, too."

"I see you wear a sword. Know how to use it?"

"Intellectually, yes. Physically, no. But put a gun in my hand and I'll shoot the birds out of trees. Don't suppose you have any guns, either."

"You'll learn how to use the sword soon enough," Karlene said, ignoring my strange comments. "Where exactly did your previous schooling leave you?"

"I know more science than the artificers, I can count and figure like I have a calculator in my head, and I know about, er, Vanyel, and Tarma and Kethry, and Lavan Firestorm. So not much history, but what I do know is very in-depth."

"You can learn history from the Bards—if you'd like, you can learn the songs."

My face lit up. "Hey, that would be great!"

"I'll see about arranging it. And I'll arrange for you to take tests in artificing and mathematics. What do you know about your Gifts?"

"I don't have the Bardic Gift," I said with a wry grin. "Nor do I have any ForeSight. That's all Lyrna told me. I didn't even know I had any Gifts until I came here."

"That's what you'll have to concentrate on, then. Come with me, I'll take you to your room." She took charge of my trunk, for which I was very grateful, and led me up a flight of stairs to the female trainee quarters. "You'll be sharing a room with Jorjetta. She's a fishergirl from Lake Evendim."

I got a gleam in my eyes. Lake Evendim, home of pirates. It was said that all the fisherfolk had pirate in their blood. I wondered if Jorjetta had ever seen a pirate.

Jorjetta was in the room when I got there. "I guess this is the end of having a room to myself." She shrugged philosophically. "Ah well. It was nice for a while, but it sure got lonely after a time. I'm Jorjie, what's your name?"

I introduced myself, and we shook hands.

"I'll help you put that stuff away," she offered. I took her up on the offer, and soon we'd put away all my things. She seemed slightly surprised at the amount of clothes. "You won't be needing these, you know. They'll provide you with Grays."

"I know. I wasn't planning on being Chosen when I came here. I wanted to be a Bard."

"Really? What instrument do you play?"

"Piano, and badly." We shared a grin.

"You'll like it here. Know any songs?"

"A bunch, but only a few you would've heard."

"Do you know 'Vrondi's Eyes'?"

"Funny, I was just thinking about that one." Ever since I'd arrived, I'd felt them, nagging at the back of my mind. A thousand watching eyes. Vrondi's eyes. They must have been attracted by the energy of my Gate.

"Could you sing it for me? I haven't heard it in so long. The Bards are all interested in singing new songs, it's like they've forgotten that magic exists."

So I sang it, trying to put something into the music, trying to tell the Vrondi that I was a nice mage, a Herald-Mage, and they didn't need to watch me. I didn't expect it to work at all, but it must have, because by the end of the song I could no longer feel their presence.

Jorjie winced through my entire rendition. "Yeah, let's not try that one again."

Again, please review. It's not all that hard. Just press the little button down at the corner of the screen and type a few words/sentences/paragraphs in response to my story. Doing so encourages me to continue writing. And I have actually been known to add to or otherwise change various chapters in response to reviews.