See Prologue for Disclaimer and other Author's Notes.

A/N: On the down-side, Real Life stinks and has been holding my muses hostage. On the up-side, said Life has allowed my muses a holiday furlough. I'm sorry for the wait. Chapter 14 should follow without too much of a wait, and I'm working on Chapter 3 for Haven (as well as a couple of newer stories that only my wonderful and talented beta – LdyDarkStr – has seen, so far). Enjoy.

A/N 2: 'Alric Heights' is what I've chosen to name Lord Governor L'Petrie's main estates, as KB hasn't given us a name for them in the books, as of yet.

A/N 3: I have, in the works, a Green Rider/Dragonriders of Pern crossover that appears to be (shock of all shocks) somewhat plausible (at least, I think so... but maybe I'm being arrogant). Please let me know if you're interested in reading it. (Sirius stalks away, grumbling about stubborn muses and the fact that KB just had to mention dragons).

Chapter 13

Nethan L'Petrie looked far older than his years, even given that he wasn't a young man, and hadn't been for quite some time. Still, despite everything he’d gone through – up to and including the attempted coup two years before – he’d never seen anything like what had been done to Clan G’ladheon. He prayed to the gods that he would never see its like again.

And the children… he had no idea how to comfort the children whose families had been decimated by this butchery, how to ease the pain of this wound. The eldest of them knew what had happened, of course, but the younger ones were confused. They didn’t understand that their parents would not be returning for them, and the absence of everything familiar frightened them. Uncertain as of yet how to aid these orphans in his care, his mind wandered to thoughts of the three who had continued on to Sacor City… the two eldest, with their somber manner and sense of duty, and the little one who refused to be left behind. He could only hope they’d made it safely, though he did not envy Clan G’ladheon’s heir the news they carried.

He still recalled the day, not even a month before, that he had been riding near the G’ladheon manor and found himself Stevic’s guest after his horse had taken a misstep into a gopher hole, and stumbled, throwing him. He’d been uninjured but dazed, and the merchant chieftain had insisted that he enjoy G’ladheon hospitality until he was once more capable of seeing straight. While Nethan had been enjoying a meal as fine as any that could be created by his own household staff, a Rider had come with news.

The nobleman smiled as he lost himself in the memories of that day. The Rider, Rider Lt. Mara Brennyn, had stated to the merchant that the delivery of this particular news was both pleasure and privilege. Grinning, she’d handed the merchant a letter, written in what Nethan believed to be the King’s own hand. Stevic had been confused upon seeing how the letter was addressed, muttering that the writing was not that of Captain Mapstone, with whom he had corresponded on previous occasions. He’d broken the seal and read with haste for a time, before stopping suddenly and appearing to re-read a portion of the letter.

“A Knight,” he’d whispered. “My Karigan, knighted?”

Nethan remembered being nearly as shocked as his host, for he knew his history well, and was certain that there had been no knights in Sacoridia since the Civil War. Agates Sealender had perverted the tradition, as he had many things, by over-using the practice to reward the most loyal of his thugs and pet assassins. When Smidhe Hillander took the throne, he swore that the tradition would not be used again until there was one truly worthy of the honor it was meant to be. Try as he might, the old lord could not restrain his curiosity as to what young Karigan had done to earn it. Merchant she may be, but the young woman had saved his life in that throne room; she’d saved all of them. Also, she was of his Province, and anything she did in the service of the King reflected well on him as her Lord Governor. Clan G’ladheon weren’t his favorite tenants merely because of their wealth… though that certainly was no cause for grief.

As he had watched the merchant chieftain continue to read his letter, Lord L’Petrie recalled that with Knighthood came the privilege and responsibility of land ownership. As a Peer of the Realm, young Karigan could choose lands from any Province. Perhaps, he’d thought, when next she journeys home, I shall see if she would have lands in L’Petrie Province as her prize. I could give her Clan G’ladheon’s lands, so that she and the Clan would hold them in their own right, instead of leasing them from me, despite the detrimental effect that would have on my own wealth; G’ladheon rent is no paltry sum.

Thinking on the situation now, he doubted anyone would wish to live on those lands again. At the least, he would not expect them to be occupied any time soon, even had there been buildings left that were fit to occupy. The sound of a boot heel scraping on stone drew his attention to his right, where his eldest son had seen fit to join him this dawn… two men haunted by the same ghastly sight. Waking or sleeping, it made no difference. They were given no peace, and there existed no possibility of going back to life as it was before the slaughter.

Alain’s voice broke the silence. “If the children made it safely to Sacor City, we should be hearing something soon. If they did not… we cannot wait much longer before sending a messenger of our own, Father. You know as well as I that those who would do such as we have seen would not hesitate to kill three children who, merely by existing, may be an obstacle to whatever other plans they have.” His voice was soft but firm, and by Alain’s manner, Nethan was reassured that when he passed into Westrion’s keeping, L’Petrie Province would be in good hands.

**

With Dakrias Brown set to his task, the King considered his morning well started, though he had no doubt of the long list of tasks still ahead of him. First on that list was a duty he’d given himself, and it was no chore: Check on Noah. He gestured for a still speechless Laren to walk by his side, knowing without even bothering to look that Willis stayed near, as always.

They walked in silence until they were nearly halfway to his chambers, and then only Laren’s curious look prompted him to speak. “Yes, Laren, I knew… part of it, at the least. I wasn’t aware of the betrothal, and Karigan thought it a daydream, wishful thinking. She told me of the connection to Santanara the morning after we’d heard of the slaughter, and renewed her Rider Oath. She thought I would doubt her loyalty to me.” He shook his head, knowing there must be a look of consternation on his face. “How she could think I would doubt her… after everything she’s done… She would never betray me and I know it.”

He was about to continue, knowing that in these corridors he would be overheard only by Weapons, who would have known the truth before long anyway. However, as they drew nearer the King’s private chambers, Zachary’s ears caught a sound that made his blood run cold… a small child’s scream.

Quickening his pace, and no longer caring that Laren and Willis followed, Zachary pushed through the doors of his bedchamber and turned toward the small bed that had been set up for Noah… not that the little one had spent a great deal of time in it the previous night. The signs of a nightmare were made obvious by the haunted, terrified eyes in the little face, the shaking hands that curled his blankets tightly around him, and the tears streaming down his cheeks. Zachary caught Noah up in his arms, blankets and all, and held him close, whispering words of reassurance in his ear, all the while aware of the looks coming from Captain Mapstone’s direction.

It did not take long for Zachary to calm the frightened child, and once Noah’s sobs had eased, Zachary – in this moment much more man than King – poured warmed water from a nearby pitcher into a wash-basin, and set about cleaning the boy’s face. He was all too aware of the contents of Noah’s dream, his ears still ringing with child’s muffled cries for his parents. The King’s own dreams would be haunted by what he’d heard the night before, and what he knew had been repeated just now. Still in the deep recesses of his mind, he heard the child’s sobbing, choked and mournful, “Da?” Just as heart-wrenching were the boy’s pleas for his mother not to make him leave. Zachary’s eyes had shed tears as he listened to Noah in the middle of the night, screaming in his dreams for parents he would never see again. That moment or this, the pain was the same, and soothed in the same manner.

“Better now?” Zachary murmured to the boy, drying his face and holding him close again. Noah nodded, burrowing in tightly and snuggling his head under the King’s chin, the small child seeking a shield against the demons of his nightmares, horrors and fears no child should ever know. Zachary walked back and forth across the room, letting the motion soothe the boy. Looking at the child, the King wondered if his parents knew they would be parted from their son while he was so very young, and that thought prompted a question.

“Captain Mapstone, when Rider Lt. Brennyn carried my letter to Stevic G’ladheon, was she aware that Karigan’s leave had been canceled? Did she tell him?” The look on his Captain’s face was one of confusion for a moment, but this was a question that required an answer and they both knew it.

“The leave hadn’t been canceled yet when Mara left on the run, but she knew it was a possibility. She would have told him, but I can ask.”

“No,” he said, shaking his head, still holding tightly to Noah, “no. I’m familiar with the Lieutenant, Laren. She would have told him. I simply couldn’t recall whether she would have known… and for some reason, it seems important to me to know that Stevic G’ladheon wouldn’t have feared his daughter would return home in the midst of that… atrocity.”

**

Karigan, mind awash in thoughts of her earlier conversation with Somial, nevertheless remained alert to the world around her. To all sides, she heard the creak of saddle leather, the rare but clearly-voiced commands of Sergeant Brexton, the thunder of hooves setting a swift pace. Beneath her was the comforting feel of Condor’s own smooth and steady gait, as they drew ever closer to Lord Governor L’Petrie’s main estates… and what remained of her Clan.

There had been several moments where she’d considered heading first to the lands that had been her home. Each time, she’d over-ruled the thought, though she couldn’t say if she truly wished to see the children first… or if she wanted merely to delay seeing the bodies of her Clan, and her father, for that much longer.

As the group came within sight of Alric Heights, Karigan slowed Condor to an easy canter and saw that everyone followed suit. She had no intention of startling guards and provincial militia that were – without doubt – already skittish. She moved Condor through the other horses until he paced next to Sergeant Brexton’s mount, noting that Fastion and Somial had moved as well, to keep their positions just to her rear and to either side.

“Sergeant Brexton,” she said, with a respectful nod to the experienced and loyal soldier. “I would suggest that only a few approach the entrance to Alric Heights, and the majority of the scout group stay behind. L’Petrie’s soldiers are apt to be… skittish, because of everything that’s happened. It might be best if we avoid startling them.” Her words were polite, and phrased as though the final decision would be the Sergeant’s… even though it wasn’t, and both Karigan and the Sergeant knew it.

Brexton’s deep voice answered, equally courteous… and just as stubborn as Karigan knew her own could be. “A sound suggestion, Rider Sir G’ladheon, one that should be followed… so long as I accompany you to the gates… and beyond them. The King placed me in command of the scouting party, and I must hear what L’Petrie’s men found.”

Karigan paused a moment to reflect that this man would have made a good Weapon, before she responded with a slight, rueful smile and a tiny nod. “Good enough, Sergeant. Good enough.”

Brexton’s gloved fist rose in the 'halt' command, and the group slowed and stopped. Quick orders were given by Brexton – and Somial, whose keen ears had heard everything – for the majority of the party to cool their mounts. Karigan’s eyes took in every aspect of the scout group and their Eletian comrades, knowing without having to ask that the group heading to gates would include – other than herself and Brexton – the Lady Estora, Connly, and her Heart-Brothers, Fastion and Somial, who would never consent to being left behind, or even the suggestion of it.

With barely another word spoken between them, the six separated from the remainder of the group, and directed their horses toward the gates of Alric Heights. On the wall above the gates, sharp eyes could see two men standing, awaiting their arrival.

To be continued... hopefully in less time than it took to get this chapter out.