The Herbalist's Apprentice

by the Lady of the Mists

Chapter Three: Sandry's Brother

A young man with blond hair and piercing blue eyes silently packed his belongings into a bag late in the night. Moonlight streamed from his window as he listened carefully, hearing a noise erupt from the room next door, but it was nothing more than his mother turning on her side, still fast asleep. Letting out a relief, Peter resumed his packing, casting a quick glance towards the window to make sure that no one was there. He couldn't be too careful; if anyone found out what he was doing, he'd be hunted down before he could even think twice.

Once he had everything packing, Peter slung the bag onto his shoulder, opening the door carefully, peering out. There was no one in the hallway to see him and he slowly stepped out, walking past his parents' room without remorse. He had no desire to see them one last time. They had been nothing but cold, cruel, and unkind since the day that Father had returned, some thirteen years ago, from the battle that had almost claimed his life.

Lord Cathal was a member of the King's court, a noble who went to war against the Varden seventeen years ago, leaving his newly wedded wife pregnant with Peter, and vanished from his ranks. Lady Lila was left to fear the worst until Cathal returned, nearly four years later, to his wife's side and three-year-old son. And he'd never spoken of what happened to him, except to his brother, Anthony, some years later. But what he didn't know was that Peter had overheard the entire conversation.

And he knew the truth; he knew the secret that his father shielded from his mother and his younger brother Éamonn. Peter knew of the child that his father had impregnated a common woman with, while Lila was still pregnant with him. He knew about his half-sister, Sandry, who was an apprentice to a healer witch in Teirm.

At least, until recently. Peter had kept word about his sister with some men that he had good relations with and they informed him that almost a month ago, his sister and her teacher had vanished from Teirm. The shop was empty, but they didn't appear to leave in a great hurry, because they had taken most of their things with them.

Peter was beside himself with fear about the sister he had never known and had dreamt of one day meeting, fearing for her safety and her very life. The worst thing he could have imagined was that he would never meet her, that she would never know about him. That she would never understand the real reason why he had abandoned her mother.

Until a few days ago, Peter had been down in the gardens of the palace when he saw an image form on the pond, revealed to him but no one else. It showed a battle, far away from here, between the Empire and the Varden. His sister had been there, fighting alongside the Varden, her face determined and calm, accepting death if it came.

Peter then knew where she had gone to; the Varden, who lay within the Beor Mountains. And he knew that his time as the dutiful son of Lord Cathal and Lady Lila had ended. The time had come for him to finally stand up for what he believed in and Peter knew that his beliefs would not be found in the Empire, but with the Varden.

And he knew perfectly well that if he was discovered, then he would be killed before he had a chance to escape. This was the reason why he was leaving in the middle of the night, leaving only a letter behind with his faithful servant Matthew, who would deliver the letter to his parents once he was away. The letter was plain; it told them where he was going and why, that he loved them but he couldn't pretend to be somebody that he wasn't. His sister needed him more than his parents and brother did. And his loyalties lay not with the Empire, but with the Varden.

"Peter."

Nearly jumping out of his skin as someone spoke his name, Peter whirled around to find his younger brother behind him, dark eyes flashing dangerously as Éamonn watched him carefully, sitting calmly on the steps. "Éamonn, what are you doing up?" he asked, barely able to breathe.

"I could ask you the same question," Éamonn responded, his gaze moving towards the bag that Peter had slung across his shoulder. "Don't tell me that you're running away."

"No, I'm not," Peter said quietly. It was the truth; he wasn't running away from something. He was running to something. "Éamonn, go to bed. It's late, you shouldn't be up."

"You're betraying the King," Éamonn spat at him, standing up to glare at his older brother. Peter remained unmoved. "How could you? Peter, you're supposed to be one of his loyalist nobles, one who wouldn't even think twice about turning his back on him! You're my brother, I'm supposed to look up to you! Mother and Father will disown you instantly for this!" If he thought that this was meant to change Peter's mind, he was sorely mistaken.

Peter shook his head. "I don't care, Éamonn," he replied. "That's not going to stop me. Has it ever occurred to you that I might not belong here? That I never did and wished that I was born somewhere else, somewhere where I wouldn't have to be forced to obey a King because of the family I was born into? Éamonn, I've hated it since the day I was born."

Cold fury crossed Éamonn's face and he shook his head, angry with Peter. "I cannot believe that I'm forced to call you my brother," he spat. "If our parents don't disown you, big brother, then I will. It starts now. Either you come to your senses and go up to your room or you never again call yourself my brother. What's your decision?"

Peter sighed. "A true brother wouldn't ask me to make that choice," he responded. Éamonn's eyes narrowed. "Did I ever tell you that we have a sister? Father had a child while he was away at war and abandoned her and her mother. Her name is Sandrine. And she needs my help, Éamonn. Now more than ever."

Éamonn laughed bitterly. "You would choose our father's illegitimate child before me? Big mistake, Peter. Guar—" Before he could finish the yell, someone tackled Éamonn from behind and Peter stared in shock as Éamonn stumbled down the steps before hitting his head, knocking himself unconscious.

Looking around, Peter let out a startled cry when he saw Matthew standing there, looking harshly down at Éamonn. "A true brother never would threaten you," he said quietly as he looked to Peter. "Go, Master Peter, before they find you here. Don't worry, I'll take care of him. He isn't hurt, just unconscious. I'm actually surprised that his thick skull could have been knocked unconscious, though," he added as an afterthought.

Peter made a weak chuckle before looking worriedly at his loyal friend. "How can I thank you for this, Matthew?" His friend only smiled weakly back at him as another thought struck Peter. "Wait—they'll kill you for this! If they find out you attacked Éamonn, then they'll kill you—"

"I'm an old man, Master Peter," Matthew replied with a shrug. "Death holds no fears for me at this age. I stopped fearing it a long time ago. It is you that I must protect, because I have loved you all these years, as a father should love his son." Peter smiled gratefully at his friend. "My wife passed away long ago and our only child with her. But I think that if our son would've survived, then I think he would have turned out to be a lot like you."

"Matthew, I—" Peter shook his head, unable to form words. "You've been a great friend and father figure to me. I'll never forget you."

His friend nodded once. "Hurry, Master Peter," he urged. "Go, quickly!"

Peter didn't think twice as he sprung down the stairs, leaving his brother in his friend's capable hands. Tears sprung in his eyes as he thought about Matthew's upcoming death, but he would be of no help to his sister if he went back to save his friend now. Only certain death awaited him if he went back.

Slipping into the stables, Peter moved quietly into his own horse's stall, patting Cadman on the neck as he nickered quietly. "Easy, boy," he murmured as he saddled him quietly. "It's all right, easy. Just relax." The palomino looked at him with his brown eyes, but stayed calm as Peter unlocked the stall door and led the horse out, keeping a close watch out for any soldiers.

Climbing onto Cadman, Peter closed his eyes once and galloped away, not looking back. At least, not until he was a good distance away, where he could see the castle as only a small dot on the horizon. Only then did he dare turn Cadman around, staring at the place where he had once called home. And as he stared at it, a great sadness overcame him. "Good luck to you, Matthew," he whispered. "For your sake, I hope they spare you. You've been a true and loyal friend. One day, I hope that I can do the same for you."

Not letting any of the tears of remorse fall, Peter shook his head, turning away and riding off into the horizon, towards the Beor Mountains, where he knew his sister waited, however unknowingly.

--

Surprisingly, it didn't take him long to find the Varden, despite what he had been told. He would've thought it would have been harder to find, if they wanted to keep secret. Or maybe it was his connection to his sister that was leading him to them.

Either way, the moment that he managed to climb through the waterfall and resurface on a pool on the other side, he found himself facing three or four spears. Alarmed, he automatically reached for his sword, but one of them warned him, "That will do you no good, stranger. State your name and business."

Deciding it would only hurt him if he argued, Peter said, "My name is Peter. I am here for two purposes: to join the Varden and to find my sister. I'm certain that she is here someplace." Now that he was within the Varden's lair, he could definitely sense a strange force coming from somewhere. If it followed it, he had no doubt that it would lead him straight to his sister.

To his surprise, they all looked at each other in surprise. A bald man hissed dangerously, "Anyone who passes through these gates and wishes to join us must submit to our test."

Test? Peter didn't like the sound of that and he liked even less submitting to be tested by this man. There was something sinister about him and he could've sworn that he'd seen him somewhere before. But if it would get him to his sister in time—

"May I get out of here first?" he asked, looking at the pool that he still stood in. The bald man stared at him, then motioned for the others to move back. Only one of them moved forward and assisted Peter as he climbed out of the pool. "Thank you," he said gratefully before looking at the bald man, not fearing him in the least. "I'm ready."

A menacing smile crossed the man's lips as his eyes narrowed. Almost instantly, Peter felt as though his mind was about to split open. Images spun through his mind, memories that he barely even remembered, from when he was only a child . . .

It was a painful and excruciating experience. There were some things he wished that he could've hidden from him, but unfortunately he had no such power to hide from them.

With a soft gasp, Peter fell to his knees, groaning at the pain as he felt the bald man removing himself from his mind. Blinking up at him, Peter only vaguely recalled him saying, "He is not your enemy. This one truly wants to join the Varden. You should take him to Ajihad."

A dwarf glanced at him sharply as Peter stumbled to his feet, leaning back against the cave wall. "Are you all right to come, lad?"

"But—" Peter wanted to say something, but he could barely stand. Someone pressed a glass of water against his lips and he drank gratefully. Once he had recovered, he said, "My sister. I've got to find my sister."

"It'll have to wait until after you've met our leader Ajihad," the dwarf grunted. "What's your name, lad?" Peter got to his face and managed to walk after him without stumbling. That mind-reading had been more painful than he would've thought.

"Peter," he answered.

"And who is your sister?" The dwarf was looking at him now with interest. "What is her name?"

"Her name is Sandry. Sandrine, actually, and she's a healer." Peter knew some information about his sister due to his contacts. "I can sense her here, was able to track her presence here." The dwarf looked interested as he said that, but a worried look crossed his face.

"I'm afraid I don't know of a Sandry or a Sandrine," he replied. Peter's heart fell. "Don't worry, lad. Perhaps Ajihad knows something that I do not. Fret not, because the bond between siblings is a great bond indeed."

"Thank you," Peter said quietly as he was led through the corridors and straight into the office of the leader of the Varden. And he took one step towards his destiny.