The Dame

PART ONE

What do I owe?

To myself, to those I love, to my community around me and to the world, what do I owe? This is the essence of the question Dame Gwydre put to me when she insisted that I would not flee her beleaguered Holding of Vanguard in its time of darkness. Her contention, her belief in me-not in my fighting abilities but in the essence of who I am as a person-has shaken me profoundly.

Vaughna, Crait, Olconna… they’re all dead now. And Brother Jond has been horribly wounded, his eyes taken by the fine edge of the sword I carry as my own. We five traveled together, we fought together, and I am alive only because of their efforts. With my gemstone lost, they all but carried me the many miles to the glacier, where, if I had simply fallen to the ground along the way, our troll captives would have put a painful end to me. When Ancient Badden, that most vile creature, discovered the truth of my sword, Vaughna claimed the blade as her own and died horribly in the maw of Badden’s monstrous pet.

When Badden tried to kill me, Cormack and his powrie friends, who knew me not at all, rescued me. Cormack and Milkeila healed my wounds and gave to me a soul stone, that I might again become this alter-creature they name the Highwayman.

What do I owe?

I have been given a great gift from my parents, Abellican monk and Jhesta Tu mystic. I have seen both these respective transformative powers, the wisdom of the book my father penned and my mother practiced and the undeniable strength of the Abellican gemstone magic. Despite my infirmities-nay, because of them!-I have found a deeper truth and a more profound strength.

When I left Pryd Town those months ago, I could fight as well as Laird Prydae’s champion, the legendary Bannagran. Now I believe I have only grown stronger. Without the gemstones, I find moments of greater clarity than ever before; I can align my ki-chi-kree for short bursts of tremendous energy and power, as I did when Ancient Badden threw me from the edge of the high glacier. I do not know that any man alive, other than an Abellican monk with the proper stones or perhaps the greatest of the Jhesta Tu mystics, could have survived that fall, but I did, and did so without the crutch that is a soul stone.

I have found the alignment of life energy, the perfect harmony of mind-body union, for those short moments in that highest crisis.

And as I have grown stronger without the soul stone strapped firmly to my forehead, so too have I grown with the stone. We are as one now; I can hold it in my hand and seal the line of life energy in place almost as well as if I had it upon my forehead, the top point of ki-chi-kree. The transformation from Stork to Highwayman, from drooling and staggering cripple to fine warrior, is nearly instantaneous now, and without conscious thought. And that transformation is far deeper and far stronger. Every muscle movement, every swing of the blade, every anticipation of an opponent’s strike or parry crystallizes without a moment of consideration, and my appropriate response is launched before a thought need be given.

If I battled Bannagran now, I would defeat him, and with little difficulty. I say that with the full humility and understanding that such a truth brings upon me a call for responsibility.

And thus, the ultimate question hangs heavy over my head: What do I owe?

It’s always been an easy question for me regarding those I love. I would have died for Garibond and would die now for Cadayle or Callen. I would fight for Jond and must admit that even Cormack and Milkeila and the powrie pair have become beloved companions in the manner of Vaughna, Crait, and Olconna.

I could have parted ways with them on the rocky rise above the glacier, but I did not. No one was more surprised than I when my feet hit that ice, when I rushed down to join in the fray against Ancient Badden’s multitude of minions. By all rights, I could have turned south and gone all the way back to Dame Gwydre, and I do not doubt that she would have granted me my freedom for the trials I had already faced.

But I went down and fought, all the way to Badden, beside these companions (dare I hope, these friends?).

I owed them.

Dame Gwydre speaks of responsibility to people she does not even know, to her people across Vanguard. Is it just the truth of being a ruler, I wonder, that demands such a sense of community, or is it that we all owe one another in this greater community?

I have Badden’s head in a sack; I will be freed of my indenture when we return to Dame Gwydre in a couple of weeks’ time. I can then gather Cadayle and Callen and hold the promise that Gwydre will sail me wherever in the world I want to go. I can go on my way and let the world go its own, I can forget the battles here in Vanguard and the continuing strife between the too-proud lairds Ethelbert and Delaval in the south.

Or can I?

What do I owe? -BRANSEN GARIBOND