Free Oath of the Brotherhood by C. E. Laureano

show me my purpose.
    Aine couldn’t remember the last time she had settled into bed without a knot of tension in her stomach. Tonight, though, she had given her troubles to One more adept at handling them than she. She fell asleep.

    Conor ate alone in his room the next morning, battling the urge to see Aine. He had probably just imagined the tenuous connection between them. They had just met, after all. So why did that possibility bother him so much?
    He needn’t have worried, though. On his way to morning lessons, Aine fell into step with him in the corridor. “We missed you at breakfast today.”
    “I’m guessing Niamh is not included in that statement. No duties with Mistress Bearrach?”
    “Not today. I’m sorry I missed yesterday’s lessons. I heard you made quite an impression on Brother Treasach.”
    “Where did you hear that?”
    “I spoke with him after morning devotions in the chapel.”
    “You have a chapel?” Conor stopped short. He had never set foot inside a Balian place of worship. It hadn’t occurred to him Lisdara would have its own.
    “Indeed. You’re welcome to join me. I’m there nearly every morning.”
    Conor hesitated. He was still unsure of how much he should reveal here, even though Labhrás had told him it was his decision. “I may do that,” he said slowly, and Aine rewarded him with a bright smile.
    Treasach waited for them in the library. “Conor, Aine. Where’s Niamh?”
    “She’s indisposed,” Aine said. Conor wondered if Niamh’s sudden illness had been timed to avoid them.
    “I’m sorry to hear that. Never mind, then. Sit! We have a lot to cover.”
    Conor exchanged a grin with Aine at the priest’s enthusiasm, and they settled at a nearby table.
    “Have you ever heard about Daimhin’s unseemly history?” Treasach folded himself into a chair much too small for his frame. “He was the youngest son of an unimportant clan, without lands or title, so he hired out his sword on the continent. Over time, he banded together with other men like him, and they became a formidable fighting company in great demand. Their travels took them throughout the Ciraean Empire, where they saw the abuses of the emperor’s policies firsthand. Eventually, they moved south to the Levant on the Ciraean Sea, where Daimhin and his companions met a man named Balus.”
    Aine gasped, and Conor said, “Daimhin met Lord Balus? I’ve never heard that.”
    “Not only did he meet Him, he studied with Him. He and his men tried to fight the Levantine authorities who broke Balus on the wheel, but our Lord wouldn’t allow it. They stood watch at His tomb, and when Balus was resurrected, He appeared to them.”
    “I know this story!” Conor said. “But the Canon doesn’t name Daimhin.”
    “No, it doesn’t. But we know he was there when Balus gave His disciples great gifts to be used for His glory and told them to spread His teachings to the ends of the earth.”
    “You mean magic,” Aine said. “The Balian magic that has been forgotten.”
    “Almost forgotten,” Treasach said. “Have you not wondered how the Fíréin have held Ard Dhaimhin all these years?”
    So it wasn’t just the brotherhood’s fighting skills that held off incursions into the old forest. For hundreds of years, no one but the brotherhood had laid eyes on King Daimhin’s capital city, secluded behind the miles of thick, dark forest. Legend claimed that only when a high king again united the warring nations under a single throne would the Fíréin relax their vigilance.
    “If the gifts still exist, then why aren’t they more well-known?” Aine asked, drawing Conor’s attention back to the lesson.
    “That’s an excellent question. As Daimhin grew older, and it became time to name his heir, he realized his sons had not held true to their gifts or the teachings of Balus. He was set to announce a successor not of his bloodline, but rather than lose their inheritance, his sons murdered him and divided his kingdom.