Silent Bells: Homeward IX Read online

  Homeward:

  Silent Bells

  Barb Hendee

  T·N·D·S

  Tales from the world of

  the Noble Dead Saga

  Copyright

  Barb and J.C. Hendee / NobleDead.org

  Copyright 2013 by Barb and J.C. Hendee.

  ALL RIGHTS RESERVED.

  eISBN:

  ASIN:

  BNID:

  Design, layout, and cover art by J.C. Hendee.

  Without limiting the rights under copyright reserved above, no part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise), without the prior contractual or written permission of the copyright owner(s) of this work.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to persons, living or deceased, businesses establishments, events, or locales is entirely incidental.

  Table of Contents

  Title Page

  Copyright

  Table of Contents

  Foreword

  Silent Bells

  Other Works The Noble Dead Saga

  Tales from the world of the Noble Dead Saga

  The Mist-Torn Witches Series

  The Vampire Memories Series

  Foreword

  No knowledge of the Noble Dead Saga or other related works by us are necessary to read, comprehend, and enjoy any work in the project known as “T·N·D·S: Tales from the world of the Noble Dead Saga.” Readers new to this world can step right into it through any of these short works.

  Tales are organized into “collections” where all works therein share a theme and/or premise. Most works in a collection are not sequential and can be read in any order. When one or more works link together, subsequent works will mention “sequel to…” on their covers to guide you.

  Tales can be your first adventure into our world or something to tide you over in the wait for the next of our varied novels to be released.

  —Barb & J.C. Hendee

  Silent Bells

  Upstairs in her bedroom at Chemestúk Keep, Julianna stood in front of a mirror looking at herself in her wedding gown.

  “What do you think?” she asked.

  Nadja, her future mother-in-law, was in the room as well, making a fuss over lacing the gown “just so” and pulling at the sleeves and skirt. Julianna didn’t mind.

  “You are beautiful, my girl,” Nadja said.

  For the first time in her life, Julianna found herself almost believing those words. She and her betrothed, Jan, had recently returned home after a nearly three-moon journey traveling with several members of his mother’s side of the family. Though a number of memorable events had happened along the way, the most important was their decision to marry. Within moments of their return home, Jan had informed his parents, who’d rejoiced at the news, and by that evening, preparations for a wedding had begun… starting with the creation of the cream-colored, muslin gown Julianna now wore.

  Stepping closer to the mirror, she could see the fine stitch work Nadja had put into the square neckline.

  Julianna was tall, with hazel eyes and persistently straight light brown hair. Her face was narrow and pale with a light smattering of freckles across her nose. She’d never liked her height or what she considered her “gangly” build or her smattering of freckles, but in this fine cream gown with her hair pinned up—and only a few strands dangling to frame her face—she almost felt pretty.

  “The color suits you so well,” Nadja said, standing at her shoulder.

  “I should take it off before I brush against something and soil it. I want it perfect for tomorrow.”

  Nodding, Nadja stepped behind to unlace the back. “I’ll help you out of it.”

  In her mid forties, Nadja could still be called lovely. With shimmering dark hair and a dusky smooth complexion, she was lithe of build though well-figured in a blue dress tied at the waist with a wildly patterned, orange paisley sash. Once she had been light of foot and agile, but this past year, she had slowed a little and often had to catch her breath after crossing a large room.

  Julianna worried about her, for Nadja was much more than a future mother-in-law.

  When Julianna had been orphaned as a girl, Nadja and her husband, Cadell, had taken her in and treated her as a daughter. Perhaps it should seem strange that Julianna was now marrying their son, but so far, no one had appeared to find it strange it all.

  No one had even seemed surprised.

  Still looking into the mirror, she shook her head. “I almost can’t believe Jan and I will be married tomorrow.”

  Nadja stopped unlacing the gown. “You love him very much, don’t you?”

  “More than I can say. I only wish I’d realized it sooner.”

  Leaning forward, Nadja hugged her briefly from behind. “My girl.”

  · · · · ·

  Out in the courtyard of the keep, Jan was engaged in a much more communal task with at least ten other men. His mother’s side of the family was from a people who called themselves the Móndyalítko—“the world’s little children”—and they traveled in wagons a good deal of the year. Jan normally traveled with them during the autumn, and this year, he’d brought Julianna along, never realizing how the journey would end.

  He was in love, real love, for the first time in his life.

  And now, his family was preparing for a wedding.

  Four Móndyalítko wagons—that also functioned as homes—were parked in the courtyard, and this small group of men had placed two of them parallel, about thirty paces apart. Jan’s father had produced a flattened piece of canvas from what had once been an enormous tent, and now their task was to string the canvas between the paired wagons’ rooftops to create a covered space.

  Everyone would gather under there tomorrow.

  In spite of late autumn weather, Julianna had requested the ceremony take place outside in the courtyard beneath the keep—her one home—and yet among the wagons of the Móndyalítko—which she now considered her other home. She also wanted anyone from the village below to feel welcome to come take part in both watching the ceremony and the feast to follow, and so extra tables had been set up in the keep’s main hall, which meant there was no room in there for a ceremony.

  Jan was determined to make all this work in any manner she wished. He didn’t care where or how they got married, so long as she married him.

  “Do you think the space between the two wagons is wide enough?” he asked.

  “Yes, it’s just right,” his father answered.

  The mix of men out here almost struck Jan as amusing. His stoic hardworking father was a contrast to the Móndyalítko, who were in turn a contrast to a few keep guards also doing their best to help. Most of the guards wore simple clothing: chain armor over light padding with rough wool tunics on the outside. None of them bothered with helmets and only wore swords while on duty.

  Jan’s father, Cadell, was the Zupan of five fiefdoms and the current vassal of Chemestúk Keep. He was a barrel of a man in his late-fifties with pale skin, fading freckles, and cropped red hair flecked by gray. He always wore brown trousers and a brown shirt. His fingernails were forever stained dark from hard work.

  Jan looked nothing like his father but rather had inherited his appearance from his mother’s side, including her smooth and dusky complexion. At the age of twenty-five he was slender with even features and coal-black hair that hung to his shoulders in a wild, unruly mass. He wore russet pants with high boots and a new emerald green shirt with the cuffs rolled halfway up his arms�
��and he sported three silver hoops in one ear.

  Many of the other Móndyalítko men were dressed in a similar fashion.

  His Uncle Rosario came striding over. “Jan, you’ll need to climb up onto a wagon rooftop to secure one side of the canvas.”

  “Yes, Uncle.”

  Rosario was not brightly dressed in his loose trousers, a white shirt, and a russet vest, but he definitely stood out. A giant of a man, his chest was wide as two normal men. He wore his black hair short—and sported a thick moustache.

  Before scaling the side of the wagon, Jan paused and looked back to his father. “We’ll need small tables on each side of this covered area. Julianna told me some of the women will bring fresh flowers tomorrow morning.”

  His father nodded and for once he appeared… pleased. “Good. I knew Julianna would want flowers. She’s not a frivolous girl, but she’s always liked flowers.”

  Jan’s father adored Julianna and had spared no expense for this wedding. The feast for tomorrow afternoon alone must have cost a small fortune: two roasted pigs, a venison haunch, casks of wine and ale, six vegetable dishes, honey cakes, and countless apple tarts—not to mention extra hired kitchen help.

  However, Cadell’s expression then darkened slightly. “I was glad when you told me of this marriage. You are beyond fortunate to have won her hand, but you do mean to honor her, don’t you? Not to fall back on any of your…” he trailed off as if uncertain how to finish.

  Normally, Jan kept his guard up around his father and didn’t allow himself to be blind-sided, but he fought hard not to wince. Unfortunately, this time his father wasn’t entirely unjustified. Jan had a well-earned reputation for breaking hearts. In the past, to amuse himself, he’d often played at making women fall in love with him—because it was so easy. Between his looks, his charm, and his gift for flattery, young women tended to swoon at his feet, and not too long ago, he had found this most diverting.

  Justified or not though, it hurt that his father would throw the past into his face the day before his wedding.

  Summoning up all the inner strength he could muster, Jan answered, “I don’t need to be reminded of how fortunate I am. I will honor Julianna all the days of my life. No one else will ever come between us.”

  His father blinked at the blunt answer and nodded. “All right then, get up the side of that wagon and let’s string this canvas. We have a wedding tomorrow.”

  · · · · ·

  That evening, in the main hall of the keep, Julianna could scarcely remember having been so happy. This “night before the nuptials” supper had somehow turned into a celebration of its own.

  In addition to Jan, Julianna, Nadja and Cadell, all the Móndyalítko from Jan’s mother’s side of the family had joined them, and Cadell had opened a cask of good ale. The women had baked fresh bread and put together a savory chicken stew, and now everyone was eating and drinking and visiting in anticipation of tomorrow’s festivities.

  Julianna sat with Jan and looked across the table at some of the Móndyalítko who had become dear to her in the past few moons in which she’d traveled with them. Her gaze paused on enormous Uncle Rosario, and he raised his mug to her. She then looked to Aunt Doreena, a larger and much more boisterous version of her sister, Nadja. And sitting beside Doreena was their son, Rico.

  He was a taller, more muscular copy of Jan, with black hair, dusky skin, but unlike Jan, he always wore an utterly serious expression. He never laughed or smiled. Julianna often thought he’d be handsome if his expression weren’t always so hard. Rico was also a Móndyalítko “shifter.” At will, he could turn himself into a great black cat, and he was the family’s hunter and their main protection.

  Yet, in the past moon, he had changed—softened—a bit, and a pretty young woman named Lydia sat quietly beside him as he fed her from his own plate. Lydia was a new addition to their traveling family, and Julianna suspected it wouldn’t be long before another wedding was announced.

  Turning her head, she took in the sight of Jan’s profile. “I’m so glad Doreena and Rosario decided to stay for a while and help us celebrate. Tomorrow wouldn’t be the same without them.”

  “Agreed,” he said, offering her a sip from his cup. “But I’d marry you if there was no one to help celebrate except a few skinny chickens.”

  She felt her cheeks flush and glanced away. A part of her had mixed feelings over him turning his gift for flattery in her direction. In their lives to date, he’d not often tried his wiles on her before, and this was one of the reasons his relationship with her had been different from his relationship with any other woman. With her, he’d always been honest, always been himself.

  Of course she enjoyed his attention, but she didn’t want their method of interacting to change. She needed no flattery to be sure of his love.

  Still trying to think of a response, something else across the hall caught her eye. “Oh… Jan, I think Belle has her hooks into poor Klayton. You might want to go call her off.”

  Jan looked to where she gestured and sighed audibly.

  His other cousin, Belle, was leaning forward and smiling seductively at one of the keep’s guards. At the age of seventeen, she was small-waisted and fragile in appearance—with an incredible mass of wavy dark hair. Her skin was pale as opposed to Jan’s more dusky shade, but her eyes were nearly black, looking even darker in contrast to her skin. She wore a deep blue skirt with a white low-cut blouse. Her breasts were perfectly rounded… with the tops clearly exposed at her neckline.

  She was quite beautiful.

  Unfortunately, she was also conceited, lazy, and incapable of thinking about anyone except herself, and her favorite past time was seeking the attention of men.

  Jan stood up. “I’ll go rescue Klayton. He’s been through enough without having to recover from Belle’s… charms.”

  As he walked away, Julianna thought on his words regarding the guardsman. Last spring, two noble factions—the Äntes and the Väränj—had launched into a civil war. The Äntes had come through Chemestúk and conscripted every able-bodied man in the village and the keep, including Jan and the few hired guards here. These men had been given no choice and were ripped away from their homes. Any of them who had tried to escape along the road had been executed.

  Before the conflict was officially over, Jan had managed to escape. Julianna still wasn’t sure how, as he never talked about it, but he’d not been able to free anyone else. The other men had been forced to remain in service to the Äntes until peace was declared.

  Soon afterward though, they’d been released… to walk all the way home.

  Thankfully, most of them had come home, but several bore scars—inside and out—of an experience in which they’d been powerless to help themselves. When Jan had first returned alone, he too had shown signs emotional trauma, but three moons on the road with Móndyalítko seemed to have healed him.

  Julianna watched as he reached the hapless Guardsman Klayton, who stared at Belle in awe. Jan took Belle’s hand and quickly steered her in another direction as he whispered in her ear.

  She frowned, as if he’d spoiled her fun.

  Guardsman Klayton followed them with his eyes, as if Jan had taken away some beloved treasure.

  Julianna shook her head in disgust. The foolish man probably didn’t realize he’d just been rescued.

  Uncle Rosario stood up from the table. “Let’s have some music!” he called in his booming voice. “Jan, fetch your violin.”

  Jan flashed a smile from across the hall, and Julianna fought to keep her expression still. A part of her was embarrassed by how much she loved him… and by the joy in her heart at the prospect of marrying him. As he headed for the hearth to retrieve his violin case, one of the hired servants from the village came hurrying into the hall.

  Julianna knew her. Her named was Sari, and she was normally a composed woman, but now she appeared distressed as she looked around until spotting someone else. Sari then rushed to Nadja, leaning down to whisper
something. Fearing that something had gone amiss with the food being prepared for tomorrow, Julianna stood up and hurried over.

  “What is it?” she asked upon reaching the bench where Nadja sat.

  Sari looked up. “There’s a… visitor, a lady in the entryway, but she’s—”

  “A lady?” Julianna interrupted in confusion. “Don’t you mean a woman?”

  Sari winced and opened her mouth to speak again. Whatever was about to come out never emerged as the sound of gasping and running feet caused everyone in the hall to turn and look to the open arch leading out into the main passage to the keep’s front door. A slender young woman ran in and looked about wildly.

  Her manic eyes matched the pale blue of her fine silk gown, but the gown’s hem was torn and filthy. With flawless ivory skin, her red-gold hair hung to the small of her back but was tangled and uncombed. The cloak thrown back over her narrow shoulders was muddy all the way to the top, as if she’d been sleeping on the ground.

  Her gaze stopped on Jan near the hearth, and she sobbed once.

  “Jan!” she cried as if her heart would break.

  Jan froze, his eyes wide.

  Julianna watched in stunned silence as the woman ran stumbling across the hall, threw her arms around him, and began weeping like a lost child who’d been found.

  “Jan, Jan,” she kept saying over and over. “I’ve found you.”

  Julianna’s feet felt stuck to the floor, no one else in the hall moved, and Jan’s dusky skin paled.

  “Gisele… I…?” he said, not touching the clinging woman, but not trying to remove her either.

  Julianna’s mouth dropped open. He knew her. He knew her name.

  “You couldn’t believe I would give up after he sent you away,” Gisele babbled, still clutching him. “But I had to wait… wait until he’d gone away. I couldn’t take anything with me. I had to slip away, but you must have known I wouldn’t stop trying. I walked all the way. I’ve found you, found you, and now we can be together.”