Read Artesans of Albia: 02 - King's Champion for Free Online

Count.
    Cloud rack kept veiling the moon and a chill wind blew from the east, carrying the faint tang of rain. Rienne’s eyes took a moment to adjust after the firelight and she could see no sign of the Count.
    Once accustomed to the darkness, she walked round the end of the hut toward the barn and corral. She could hear the soft chewing of the horses and smell the grain and hay. Entering the barn, she saw a shadowy figure seated on a pile of straw.
    The Count glanced at her but didn’t speak as she sat beside him. A moonbeam lanced into the barn, lighting his alien eyes. Rienne shuddered. If she ignored those catlike pupils she could deal with him as she would an Albian, but if she dwelled on them too long, his differences became an almost physical barrier.
    He sensed her unease and ducked his head. “I’m sorry if my appearance frightens you.”
    “Oh, it’s not that.” She was annoyed she had betrayed her discomfort. “It’s just that I’m not used to all this. I’m only a healer. I’m not gifted like the others, and I’ve never done anything like this before. I’m a bit out of my depth.”
    He smiled. “I’d never have known.”
    It was her turn to feel awkward. She picked at a piece of straw, wondering how to ask her question. “Have you ever been to Albia?”
    He raised an eyebrow. “Once. That was when I first met Sullyan.”
    “What happened? That is ... I don’t mean to pry. You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to.”
    The Count looked down at his hands. In the uncertain moonlight she could see they were strong and long-fingered, a swordsman’s hands, brown from the sun and nicked by old sword cuts.
    He sighed. “It was six or seven years ago, just after I inherited my father’s lands. I was young, naïve, eager to begin my life as a noble. But my father wasn’t wealthy and my Artesan gift is weak, so the only options for improving my fortune or status were to either marry into a wealthy family or win power by conquest.
    “The first was out of the question, because no noble Andaryan family would look at a lowly Count with such feeble Artesan talents.” He snorted. “Lords want to marry their daughters to men who will strengthen their bloodline, not weaken it. So I thought that if I could gain a reputation for good generalship by organizing successful raids beyond the Veils, some high-born noble might offer me a military position which would increase my status.”
    He shook his head. “I should have known better. I should at least have chosen another realm to raid. But I was cocky then—before I realized how hopeless it all was—and I thought Albia was the best place to start. And so it might have been, had I not run straight into that unique young woman in there.”
    Rienne was fascinated and smiled, encouraging him to continue. He stared out the barn door and she could almost taste the embarrassment and frustration of the younger man he had been, so keen to prove himself.
    “It was sheer bad luck, really, because I don’t have anything like the power necessary to direct a portway. I only just managed to keep it open long enough to get all my men through. Of all the places we could have emerged, fate had to pick an area patrolled by Sullyan’s company. Later, I learned that it was her first time out as company leader, and that she’d just recently become a Master Artesan. Anyone else and I might have achieved the result I was after. Why did fate throw me into her path?
    “Anyway, her scouts saw us and she gave chase, quickly blocking my way back through the Veils. I wasn’t too worried by that. I might not have much Artesan power, but I am a capable swordsman. Our numbers were about equal and her men were led by a woman. What did I have to fear?”
    Seeing Rienne’s raised brows, he said, “You may have heard that Andaryan women don’t bear arms, and neither can they influence their metaforce. I’d never met anyone like Sullyan. What was I supposed to think?