L. E. Modesitt - Corean Chronicles 1 - Legacies.pdf - L. E. Modesitt - margozap

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Book Information :

Genre: Fantasy

Author: L.E. Modesitt Jr.

Name: Legacies

Series: Book One of The Corean Chronicles

Published: Hardback; October 2002

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Legacies

Book 1 of the Corean Chronicles

L.E. Modesitt Jr.

In the quiet of the early twilight of a late summer day, a woman sat in

a rocking chair under the eaves of the porch, facing east, rocking gently. Except

for the infant she nursed, she was alone, enjoying the clean evening air, air

swept of sand grit and dust by the unseasonal afternoon rain. So clear was the

silver-green sky that the still-sunlit Aerial Plateau stood out above the nearer

treeless rise that was Westridge, stood out so forcefully that it appeared yards

away rather than tens of vingts to the north and east.

She rocked slowly, looking down at her nursing son, a child already with dark

hair, more like deep gray than black. Through the open windows set in the heavy

stone walls, she could hear the occasional clatter of platters being replaced in

the cupboards, and the squeak of the hand pump.

The glittering and scattered light reflected from the quartz outcrop-pings on

the top edge of the distant and towering plateau died away as the sun dropped

farther. Before long, pinlights that were stars appeared, as did the small greenish

crescent that was the moon Asterta. The larger moon, Selena, had already set in

the west.

She brought the infant to her shoulder and burped him. "There… there, that's

a good boy, Alucius." Then she resettled herself and offered the other breast.

As she began to rock once more, a point of light appeared off the north end

of the porch, expanding into a winged feminine figure with iridescent green-

tinged silver wings. The nursing mother blinked, then turned her head slowly.

For several moments, she looked at the soarer, a graceful feminine figure

somewhere in size between an eight-year-old girl and a small young woman—

except for the spread wings of coruscating and shimmering light, which fanned

yards out from the soarer's body until it bathed both mother and infant.

The woman chanted softly,

'Soarer fair, soarer bright, only soarer in the night wish I may, wish I might

have this wish I wish tonight…"

For a long moment after she had completed her wish, the woman watched.

The soarer's wings sparkled, their movement seemingly effortless, as she hung in

midair, in turn watching mother and child, less than twenty yards from the pair

on the porch. As suddenly as she had appeared, the soarer was gone, as was the

green radiance that had emanated from her.

Slowly, the woman murmured the old child's rhyme to herself.

'Londi's child is fair of face. Duadi's child knows his place. Tridi's child is wise

in years, but Quattri's must conquer fears. Quinti's daughter will prove strong,

while Sexdi's knows right from wrong. Septi's child is free and giving, but Octdi's

will work hard in living. Novdi's child must watch for woe, while Decdi's child has

far to go.

But the soarer's child praise the most, for he will rout the sanders' host, and

raise the lost banners high under the green and silver sky."

She looked beyond the north end of the porch once more, but there was no

sign that the soarer had ever been there.

Within moments, the door to the house opened, and a lean man stepped

outside, moving near-silently toward the woman in the rocking chair. "I thought I

saw a light-torch out here. Did someone ride up?"

'No…" She shifted the infant and added, "There was a soarer here, Ellus."

'A soarer?"

'She was out there, just beyond where you put the snow fence last winter.

She hovered there and looked at us, and then she left."

'Are you sure, Lucenda?" Ellus's voice was gentle, but not quite believing.

'I'm quite sure. I don't imagine what's not there."

Ellus laughed, warmly. "I've learned that." After a moment, he added,

"They're supposed to be good luck for an infant."

'I know. I made a wish."

'What did you wish for?"

'I can't say. It won't come true, and I want it to come true for Alucius."

'That's just a superstition."

Lucenda smiled. "Probably it is, but let me have it."

He bent over and kissed her forehead. "For him, as well as for you."

Then he pulled over the bench and sat down beside her as the evening

darkened into night.

In the warm sun of a clear harvest morning, five people stood beside

the stable door, two men, two women, and a small boy. The child had short-

cropped hair that was a dark gray, rather than true black, and he clutched the

hand of the younger woman and looked up at the man who wore the black-and-

green uniform of the Iron Valley Militia. Tied to the post outside the stable were

a roan, saddled, and a gray mare. The gray tied beside the roan had no saddle,

but a harness and two leather bags of provisions across its back.

'Father?" offered the boy.

The uniformed man bent down and scooped up the child, holding him against

his shoulder so that their faces were but handspans apart. "You'll be a good boy

for Mother, won't you, Alucius?"

'Yes, Father." His words were carefully articulated.

'He's always good," offered the older woman who stood back from the

couple.

'You'd say that anyway, Veryl," countered the older man. "I might," Veryl

responded with a smile, "but Alucius is good. Lu-cenda knows that."

'You'll be careful, Ellus," said Lucenda. "You will, won't you?" "He'll be fine,"

boomed the older man. "Best officer in all Iron Valley. Just going after brigands,

that's all. Not like the border wars with the Lanachronans when I was his age.

They had Talent-wielders. Not very good, but they did call out sanders—"

'That was then, Royalt," Veryl pointed out. "You and Ellus can compare

stories when he comes back. Reillies, sanders, Talent-wielders… whatever you

want."

The three other adults smiled at the dryness of her tone. Ellus handed Alucius

back to Lucenda, then bent forward and hugged her, kissing her on the cheek.

"You two be good. I shouldn't be gone that long."

Alucius squirmed, and Lucenda set him down beside her, and threw her arms

around her husband, holding him tightly.

Alucius looked up at the pair, embracing, then to the corral not two yards

from where he stood. His eyes met the black-rimmed red orbs of the lead

nightram, and he gently let go of his mother's trousers, taking one step, then

another toward the black-wooled ram with the red eyes and sharp horns.

'Alucius!" Lucenda cried, lunging toward her son. "Let him go," came Royalt's

voice. "Best we see now. He's protected by the fence. Rams don't hurt children,

unless the children hit them, and Alucius won't do that."

Lucenda glanced from Alucius to the fence, and to the nightram on the far

side of the four rails. Then she looked to Ellus. His lips were tight, his eyes fixed

on their son.

In the silence that had settled across the stead, Alucius took three more

steps, until his chest was against the second railing. The nightram stepped

forward and lowered his head, until his eyes focused on the child. The curled and

knife-pointed black horns glittered, reflecting the sun from their lethal

smoothness, standing out from the light-absorbing all-black face, and from the

black fleece that was so deep in color that the ram was darker than any night.

Even the sharp-edged hoofs were night-black.

The boy smiled at the nightram, then reached out with his left hand and

touched the beast's jaw, fingertips from the sharp teeth. "Good! Good ram."

For a long moment, the nightram's eyes took in Alucius. Then the ram slowly

lowered himself to the ground, so that his eyes were level with those of the boy.

Alucius smiled. "He's a good ram."

'Yes, he is." Lucenda's voice was strained.

'He likes me."

'I'm sure he does."

Deliberately, slowly, Alucius lifted his hand away from the nightram. "You be

good, ram." He stepped away from the railing. The ram slowly rose, lifting his

head and sharp horns, but only watched as the boy stepped toward his mother.

'He was a good ram."

Lucenda swept Alucius up into her arms, hanging on tightly. "Yes, he was.

But you must be careful with the nightsheep."

'I was careful."

The ram tilted his head, before turning and walking toward the far side of the

corral.

'He'll be a herder, for sure, Ellus." The older and broad-shouldered Royalt

laughed. "He's already got a way with them. He'll be ready to take the flock with

us when you get back."

'That's good to know—and so young, yet." Ellus smiled and straightened the

green and black tunic. The smile faded as he looked at Lucenda and Alucius. He

stepped over to them and hugged both of them for a moment. Then he looked

at Alucius, his face serious. "You'll take care of your mother while I'm gone,

won't you?"

Alucius nodded.

'Good." Ellus smiled once more. "I'll be back before long. Sure as there are

five seasons, I'll be back."

'I'll be here," Lucenda replied.

Still holding the smile, Ellus untied the roan and mounted, leading the gray as

he rode down the lane toward Iron Stem. He turned in the saddle and waved as

he passed the end of the outermost section of the southernmost corral.

The older man and woman took several steps back toward the main house,

before stopping and watching the rider. The younger woman stood by a fence

post, ignoring the nightram on the other side, tears streaming down her face.

The fingers holding her son's hand did not loosen as she sobbed.

Alucius looked at the departing rider. "Father…"

'He'll be back," Lucenda managed. "He will be."

Alucius watched until his father was out of sight. To the south, above the

high road that lay beyond vision, an eagle circled upward into the open expanse

of silver-green sky, a black dot that also vanished.

Outside, the evening was darkening, with neither moon to offer

illumination. Inside the second lambing crib, with only a small, single-crystal

light-torch to dispel the blackness, Alucius watched. His mother held a bottle

filled with goat's milk, feeding the small nightlamb. The lamb sucked greedily for

a short time, then stopped, lowering his head slowly.

'You have to drink more," Lucenda told the lamb gently. "It doesn't taste

right, but you have to drink it." She stroked the lamb.

'He doesn't like the sand. I wouldn't like sand in what I drank," Alucius said

solemnly.

'It isn't sand. It's quartz. It's powdered as fine as we can make it with the

crusher."

'But why?" Alucius gave a small frown.

'The ewes have it in their milk. They get it from the quarasote shoots. So we

have to put it in the goat's milk so the lamb will grow strong."

Alucius could sense the doubt in his mother. "He's very sick, isn't he?"

'He isn't as strong as he should be. It's hard for lambs who lose their

mothers. The other ewes don't have enough milk for two. Sometimes, they don't

have enough for one." Lucenda tendered the bottle, and the lamb sucked for a

time, but the amount of milk left in the bottle remained almost the same.

'He doesn't feel good," Alucius said. "He's tired."

'He has to eat, or he won't get well," Lucenda said evenly.

'Will he die?"

'He might."

Alucius sensed the concern in his mother's words, and the darkness behind

them. He looked at the lamb, then sat down on the old horse blanket beside the

animal. Slowly, he reached out and drew the small creature to him, his arms

around the lamb's neck.

L. E. Modesitt - Corean Chronicles 1 - Legacies.pdf

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