Chapter 8: I don't think were in Shin Makoku anymore.

Selenay sighed as she shifted through the pile of paperwork that had accumulated on her desk. She'd spent the past two weeks dealing with her very worried council and the wild speculations on the two newest trainees. The gossip surrounding Companion Jissa's Chosen, were nowhere near as outlandish as those surrounding Companion Vanyel's Chosen, for the simple reason that Jissa at least was eleven and old enough to choose her Herald. Vanyel, by comparison was only five, not even fully grown, and yet he was Choosing his Herald. Since Companions had the habit of Choosing their Heralds in time for them to be in whites when they were needed, the entire council and to a lesser extent the Circle was abuzz with gossip and wild rumors. That the Companions in question had to go OFF WORLD to find their Chosen only added fuel to the fire.

She groaned and pulled the top most paper off of the stack. She hated Tax Reports! It seemed like that was all she'd been doing today! Tax Forms, requisition forms, and a whole slew of things that absolutely needed her attention, or worse her signature! But at least she didn't have to deal with the Petitioners; she'd delegated that task to her Husband Daren. She shifted in her seat—Daren at least would be done soon; perhaps she'd take a break, go for a ride with Caryo, and clear her head.

As if her thoughts had summoned him, Daren walked into her office, resplendent in his whites, the light flashing briefly off of the slim circlet of gold that rested upon his brow. "Have you eaten?" he asked, well aware of his wife's tendency to forget to eat.

Selenay smiled up at her husband as she set her pen down. Now that she thought about it, she was actually quite hungry. This wasn't surprising since noon had passed about three candle-marks ago. "No, I'm afraid not."

Daren smiled, "Well then, my beautiful Queen, we shall simply have to rectify that, wont we?" he said, offering her his hand.

Selenay smiled; she loved it when her husband acted like this. This sort of sweet and charming behavior was the reason why she'd originally fallen in love with and married Daren's elder brother. The difference was that Daren really was sweet and charming, in addition to being Chosen. She allowed him to pull her to her feet, before linking her arm with his. It was odd—her former, and now dead, husband had never bothered to act sweet and charming after their wedding night. Daren was sweet, kind and gentle; he wasn't afraid to shoulder his share of the work and since he was a Herald, he understood her ties to her Companion perfectly.

She left her office on her husband's arm, headed for the palace kitchens. "How about a picnic in Companion's Field? What do you think, love?" He asked as they turned a corner and exited the old palace.

It was early spring, and a little bit cold despite the afternoon heat, but thankfully the weather was not cold enough to require a cloak, even though it was slightly chilly. It sounded lovely though, and the mere idea made her heart flutter.

She never got the chance to answer though, since just as she opened her mouth to do so, Alberich's mind brushed her own.

The shock, worry and urgency in the brief, soft touch startled her, and she immediately opened her mind to his.

: Something is going to happen at the River, Highness. I know not what, only that something will happen there. :

She got so much more from him then words in that brief mind-touch. She could feel the wind whipping at his hair, and tugging on his cloak; she could feel Kantor as the big stallion sprinted for the river, Alberich clinging to him bareback with the skill of a trained Herald. Abruptly Caryo was in her mind, images flowing down the link with her Companion.

Absently, she realized Alberich was cursing.

She broke into an all out run, with Daren at her side, prompted she knew by the urgency he was likely receiving from his own Jasan. They rounded a corner and took the stairs, two at a time, heading down. She leapt the last few steps, landing easily on the floor, only mildly surprised by the streak of white and reddish brown that abruptly appeared by her side.

Talia—she recognized her Queen's Own absently, as the smaller woman fell into step beside her. She hit the door that led out into the Gardens hard; thankfully it was unlocked and gave beneath her slight weight. She froze briefly as the changing light burned her eyes, then Rolan, Caryo, Jasan, and Gwena, came thundering up to them at a full gallop. She had just enough time to wonder at the presence of her eldest Daughter's Companion, before Herald-Mage Elspeth vaulted, spindle legged onto the bareback of her mare. Talia was only seconds behind her, not even bothering to wait for Rolan to come to a complete halt. The stallion had simply reared up and pivoted around on his hind hooves, and then she was on his back, clinging like a burr on a sheep, and they were off like a flung lightning bolt, before Selenay's own Caryo had even come to a complete halt.

She scrambled up onto her Companion's back, astride, in spite of her long white, velvet skirts, which hiked up around her legs in a manner that would be considered scandalous on any out-kingdom lady of rank. Caryo waited only long enough for her to grab a double handful of her rich white mane before she shot off after the others.

Rolan led the way into Companions field, leaping over the small fence that separated the field from the rest of the palace. They thundered up to the river in a blur of white, and came to an abrupt halt before the bubbling churning waters. Selenay shifted on her Companion's back and glanced over at Alberich, whose right hand rested on the hilt of his sword. Without thinking, she signaled her Heralds and watched quietly as both Heralds and Companions moved quickly to comply with her order, spreading out until they'd effectively surrounded the anomaly.

The strange happenings at the river had startled the Companions, who in turn had alerted their Heralds, and the palace had boiled over into a sea of White as every Herald flew like the arrows they were named for. If this turned out to be an attack of some sort, it would be met by Heraldic steel. Alberich and Talia flanked the queen while Elspeth sat calmly atop her Companion, with her Lord step-father and uncle on her left, and her husband Darkwind, the only non-heraldic presence in the field, standing quietly at her right side, a large falcon perched quietly on his shoulder.

Blue light bathed the field, emanating from the river itself, before a Companion stallion lunged up and out of the water, silver hooves digging furrows in the soft turf of the riverbank as the stallion dragged himself free of the river. His royal blue tack was heavy with packs, so that he bore a passing resemblance to a pack horse, particularly since the saddle itself was empty.

: That's Vanyel. : Caryo supplied the name unnecessarily. Of the eight Companions, whose Heralds would make up this year's class, one had returned just as Vanyel and Jissa left, three had returned last night, and of the two stallions still out only Vanyel was this young. The last companion had Chosen unexpectedly this morning on the palace grounds.

She idly wondered where his Chosen was and who in their right mind would use a Companion as a beast of burden. She didn't have to wonder long, for even as the young Companion shook his coat free of the clinging droplets of the still icy river the field was bathed in light again, and a heavily laden mare surged up out of the river.

: That's Jissa.: Caryo supplied again.

For a moment, Selenay was completely flabbergasted by the sight of a Companion returning from their search with two riders. Logically, she knew that one of the two men was Jissa's Chosen and the other … well; the other had to be Vanyel's. What she couldn't figure out was why in the nine hells they would both be in Jissa's saddle. Then she realized one of the two men was completely limp in the arms of the other.

He's unconscious, she realized abruptly. And the tack doesn't have the supports. Jissa's carrying them both so that the younger one will stay on. Now the question is which trainee is which?

Unsurprisingly, it was Caryo who supplied the answer, even as the additional Heralds began to disperse. : Jissa says her Chosen is the red-head, his name is Yozak. The other man in his arms is Vanyel's Chosen, Conrart. Apparently, their healers mistook a strong mind-speech gift for a sign of insanity, and drugged the poor boy. He's not Chosen yet; Vanyel didn't have the chance to do so before the drug took effect, he needs a healer though—he's injured, sick, and now he's been drugged as well. Van says it will likely be a few days before he wakes. :

Selenay watched as Daren quietly rode up to the newest trainee, and attempted to take his unconscious burden out of his arms.

It didn't go over very well.

: Don't you dare touch him!: A new voice snapped into their minds in an untrained and powerful broad-send. Selenay flinched, and resisted the urge to clamp her hands over her ears despite the fact that the voice was purely mental.

She noticed the two swords hanging from Vanyel's saddle, and the third strapped to Yozak's hip. She also noticed the heavy musculature of the man's arms, the hard glint in his bright blue eyes, and most importantly, the way his arms tightened around young Conrart.

:Jissa thinks they may be life-bound; he broke the healer's arm, trying to protect him. Whatever you do, I recommend you do it carefully though—he's life-bonded and overprotective. :

Selenay thanked Caryo for her information, than reached for the young man's mind. She was only momentarily surprised by what she found there. The young man was understandably scared, and reluctant to release his burden. She could feel the love and affection he felt for his friend, but she could also feel the burning pain of an unacknowledged lifebond. She could feel his wicked sense of humor, and the overwhelming loyalty he felt for his people, his country, his Maoh, and his prince. She could see the Herald he would become, but first they had to get them both over this hurtle.

: We won't hurt him, youngling. : She said calmly, watching as he jumped at the slight brush of her mind against his. : He's obviously ill, and the cold isn't going to be good for him. We'll take him to a healer; you can join him there if you wish, after you get changed into something dry. We can't have you catching cold as well. Come now, you have my word, we won't hurt him. :

It was a bit of a shock to find herself under the scrutiny of his calculating flame-blue eyes, he regarded her with a look of shrewd intelligence, and she got the distinct impression that she was being measured. It was unnerving. Abruptly his eyes lost their focus, and she knew he was talking with his Companion. He inclined his head briefly, before turning his sharp gaze upon Daren. He said something aloud and in his own tongue.

The words were unintelligible, but the tone and intent were clear warning.

Then with a carefulness that put Selenay in mind of a mother handing over a newborn, he passed Conrart into Daren's arms. The green Greatcoat draped across the boy's slim shoulders and chest slipped, giving them all a clear view of just why Yozak was being so overprotective. Conrart's arm and shoulder were tightly bound in bandages, and he was badly bruised.

Jasan waited only long enough for Daren to settle his new burden securely before he shot off at a gallop, headed for the Healer's Collegium.

Selenay sighed—it was going to be a very long day. With that in mind, she reached for Yozak with her mind-speech again, well aware that they had to get him dried off and dressed before he caught his death of cold.

~~~***~~~

Yozak sighed as he peeled his sopping wet clothing from his body—he'd be lying if he said he wasn't cold. He was currently standing in what he assumed was a closet of some sort, quickly changing out of his wet clothing. His tunic and undershirt came off first, followed by his greaves, boots, and leggings. He'd handed belt and sword to the man currently occupying the small space with him. Herald Alberich, was a tall man, his hair now mostly slate gray with only the barest touches of its original black, and streaked through with white. The old face was streamed with scars. Scars similar to the ones King Belar would carry to his grave. Scars Yozak knew had come from an unfortunately close encounter with fire.

He had far too much tact to inquire after how the man got them.

As for Belar, the man deserved what he'd gotten—it had taken Conrart months to heal after that monster had succeeded in obtaining him, and he still bore the scars of that encounter.

He shook his head, trying to dislodge old memories, and quickly pulled a clean set of clothing out of his packs. Now he was dressed with his wet clothing tucked securely into a waterproof bag, inside of his packs with a brisk efficiency that had taken years of military service to accomplish.

Fully dressed and dry, he held out his hand for the weapon that he'd handed to the gray clad Herald. Alberich handed it to him without so much as a word, and Yozak got the impression that he'd passed some sort of test in the man's eyes. He dismissed the feeling as inconsequential. As far as he knew, he had no reason to value this man's opinion. Jissa had informed him that Alberich was the most respected weapons master in Valdemar; Yozak however had all the approval he needed, by his way of thinking. He was one of the very few men who even came close to Conrart in skill. He had his friend and captain's approval—that was all he needed.

He buckled the belt firmly about his hips and nodded to his silent shadow before leaving the room. He paused for a brief second, closing his eyes and reaching for that spot deep within himself that cried 'Conrart'. He remembered with a shudder the pain that day so many years ago, when his friend had left their world to deliver King Yuri's soul, without so much as a goodbye. When Conrart had left, their bond had been stretched far beyond its limits, and he'd actually thought his friend dead. He'd mourned his loss and flung himself into his work in a futile attempt to run from the emptiness deep within his soul.

Conrart's return had been the happiest moment of his life!

He thought about the jolt of pain he'd felt just a few short days ago when Conrart had fallen from Valiant's saddle, and recalled the moment of acute agony he'd felt five, long years ago when Conrart had lost his left arm in service of their king.

Now he used that connection in the same way he had for almost as long as he could remember. He honed in on the slight throb of broken bones, and the confused torrent of muted emotion that was his best friend in a drug haze, and followed it through a maze of hallways. He held his head high and ignored the startled expressions of the people he passed by. He wove his way through the suddenly crowded hall as a bell tolled the hour somewhere nearby. He filed everything away for later use as he continued to walk, following the bond where it led.

~~~***~~~

Herald Alberich had to admit when the Queen had asked him to play nursemaid to their newest trainee, he'd been mildly annoyed. He was having a fairly rotten day so far and wanted nothing more than a nice relaxing ride with Kantor. Having to teach today's lessons from his Companion's back thanks to a series of annoyingly unfortunate events, old age (not that he'd ever admit to being old), and an out-kingdom healer with a flair for the dramatic, had him more than irritable to begin with. He'd been completely sure the young man –who couldn't have been much older than twenty, twenty-one at the oldest – was going to have a fit about being asked to change his clothing in a small broom cupboard. He'd expected the man to glare at him and refuse to move an inch until he at least turned around and gave him some privacy.

He'd been completely taken aback when the man had simply stripped to the skin after wordlessly offering him his weapon. He'd begun a mental tally of things he'd have to change with the young trainee the second the man handed him his sword. Granted, Jissa was likely in his head telling him it was safe to disarm in front of any Herald, but sometimes good old fashioned paranoia kept people alive, and he didn't want any of the Heralds to ever make the mistake of forgetting that!

He'd made up his mind to talk to the trainee about handing his only weapon to someone he'd just met. Then the man had pulled off his overly long tunic and Alberich had seen the slight glint of steel sticking up from under Yozak's black undershirt and realized the young man was wearing a hidden dagger. He relaxed, but only just.

Alberich couldn't –quite - believe the sheer number and wide variety of weapons hidden on the red-head's person. Idly he wondered how many of the different weapons the boy could actually wield. The dagger at the man's breast was the one he found himself most curious about. How many men carried a lady's breast dagger hidden on their bodies? The thin coil of wire at his hip was also a source of intrigue; particularly since the Yozak's clothing gave the illusion of being too tight to effectively hide anything. What he wore really was unremarkable—he'd fit just about anywhere, from the palace to the slums; all he needed to do was add a bit of dirt and alter the way he carried himself, Alberich realized with a start.

He was beginning to suspect the man of being an undercover operative by trade.

The young man had stripped, dried off, and redressed with a military briskness that Alberich recognized. He found himself mildly amused when the man swung his packs over one well muscled shoulder and left the room, the heels of his boots making almost no noise on the wood paneled floor. Yozak paused briefly, closing his eyes before he started off down the maze-like palace corridors, carrying himself with the economy of motion Alberich had only seen in men who'd carried a blade for a very long time. His practiced eye noted the fact that he moved as though the sword at his hip was a part of his body; he'd lay wager that young Yozak knew his blade, and knew it well. Yet his every move held the grace of a well bred lady on the dance floor.

It was an odd combination.

And suddenly they'd arrived at the Healer's Collegium. Startled, he reached for Kantor.

: He's, well honestly, I don't know how he did it, but Jissa says he's always aware of Conrart. They must have shared minds before; it's the only way he'd be able to use Mindspeech to find someone who's comatose. :

Alberich nodded despite the fact that Kantor was out in the field somewhere, and currently preoccupied with the young filly he was trying to teach to fight. Mindful of what his Companion suspected, he decided to follow where the young man led, curious about whether he'd find his friend as effortlessly as he'd found the Healers Wing.

The man muttered to himself in a language that was quite beyond Alberich's ability to comprehend, and lengthened his stride until he was all but running. Alberich lengthened his stride accordingly, wondering what had happened. Worried, he reached for Selenay.

: What's happening, Highness? : He inquired after getting his Queen's attention.

Selenay's reply was bland and mildly curious. : Not much; we've gotten Vanyel's Chosen out of his wet clothing and Healer Dolan is currently examining him. Why do you ask? :

Alberich's reply was prompt. : Because Jissa's Chosen has just started to run; I was wondering if there was a reason. :

: Not that I know of. :

~~~***~~~

A.N this is my first Chapter fic, So please review… kay thanks.

Vocab:

Lifebond: a joining of the soul, the death of one is usually the death of the other.

Queen's Own: is an office in Valdemar, it's held by a Herald who is in complete trust of the monarch, each is chosen by the Companion that belonged to their predecessor, in this case Rolan who belonged to Talemar before he Chose Talia after Talemar's death. This is pretty much the only case where Companion survives his Herald.

King/prince Co-consort: In Valdemar you have to be a herald to rule, Selenay was Chosen and fully trained by the time she turned 16, when her father died she took the throne. Her first husband failed to realize this and married her for power, then turned around and tried to kill her once he realized she couldn't simply make him a Herald or Hand him the throne.

Healer: medic/doctor

Ironically it was born one morning at like 3.35 when Werecat and I couldn't sleep and started debating who would win in a fight, Alberich from Mercedes Lackey or Conrart from K.K.M. originally it was supposed to be a(n?) oneshot 0.o as you can see that didn't work… the plot bunnies wouldn't leave me alone.

By the Way: welcome to Valdemar Kyo Kara Maoh Fans and for those of you who are native – welcome home.