The Way of Light

by Storm Constantine

  She opened her mouth to speak, but he had vanished. ‘I’m awake,’ she said aloud. ‘What in Foy’s name was he talking about? I’m awake!’ She threw back her blanket and leapt up. Grabbing a shawl, which she cast around her shoulders over her clothes, she ran barefoot out of the tent. There were still quite a few people sitting around the fire, but Varencienne did not pause to look at them. She ran straight into the forest down the winding narrow path to the waterfall glade. She knew it could wait until morning, but the urge to tell Khaster that Valraven had appeared to her was too great to ignore.

  Before she entered the glade, she called his name, to give him a few moments to compose himself. Half of her expected to see the pair of them still sitting by the pool as she had left them. But they were lying naked together, both faces turned towards her in surprise.

  ‘Khas, I’m sorry,’ she said, ‘but I have to speak to you.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘Val just came to me.’ She gestured emphatically with both hands. ‘He’s told us – all of us – to go to Old Caradore. He appeared to me. It was so strange. He’s changed, Khas. He’s who he should be. He asked for you by name.’ She had begun to shake and realised she was on the verge of tears again. She stood there at the edge of the glade, her face in her hands.

  After some moments, during which he must have put on his trousers, Khaster came to her. ‘Ren, it’s all right,’ he said gently.

  She lowered her hands. No it isn’t. ‘It was a shock. So real. I shouldn’t have come here, I know. I just had to talk to you.’

  He lifted her chin with one hand, looked into her eyes. She pulled herself away, sure he could see everything that was in her heart. ‘We’ll go to Old Caradore,’ he said. ‘Usually, it’s me who has the informative dreams.’

  ‘You’re distracted,’ she answered sharply, then more softly, ‘It wasn’t a dream, anyway. He said it was, but it wasn’t. It was both dreaming and being awake.’

  Purna sat observing their conversation, probably understanding none of it because it was in Magravandian. He looked curious rather than displeased.

  ‘I’ll go now,’ Varencienne said. ‘I’m sorry I interrupted.’

  ‘You didn’t,’ Khaster said. ‘We were just about to return to the camp, in any case.’

  Varencienne smiled shakily. ‘Welcome back, Khaster,’ she said. ‘Thank you for stepping down out of the painting.’

  He put his head to one side. ‘Oh, your painted dream man hasn’t come back, Ren. He never existed, but thanks for believing in him anyway.’

  Varencienne leaned over and kissed his cheek briefly. ‘Let’s go home.’

  Shan was no longer by the fire when Varencienne returned from the forest with Khaster and Purna. It was strange the way feelings could change. Varencienne couldn’t bear to lay her eyes on him at present. She realised he had become an ex-lover, without her even thinking about it consciously.

  Khaster sat down and told the Hamagarids their new plans. Nobody questioned the fact, or even considered it unusual, that Varencienne’s husband could appear to her like a ghost.

  ‘At least we know now where we have to go,’ Khaster said, ‘but our lack of funds will pose a problem. It would help us if we could secure a loan to buy passage south.’

  Lord Alak, the husband of Lady Sikim, raised his hands. ‘You may travel on one of my ships. I will supply a crew. What about men? I have a trained personal guard who, at my command, will fight for you as if you were their master.’

  ‘I won’t refuse your generous offer,’ Khaster said. ‘If the Dragon Lord is attacked by the Magravandian army, he’ll need all the support he can get.’

  Lord Turkat, husband of Lady Patar, gestured widely. ‘We will go to Prince Kutaka on our return to Nimet. He is lord of our city and will listen to the words of Aranepa. He will give you men.’

  Khaster grinned fiercely at Varencienne. ‘I’ll feel better going to meet Val if I can take him an army.’

  ‘This battle will affect us all,’ said Lady Sikim. ‘Hamagara stands back from the world, but in some instances it is our place to take a stand with those who fight for what is good.’

  Especially when it might affect your income, Varencienne thought. ‘This is more than we could have hoped for,’ she said. ‘We will never forget your kindness and generosity.’

  ‘You have Paraga with you,’ said Lady Sikim, to whom Varencienne had told the whole story. ‘Never fear the outcome.’

  I do not feel him though, Varencienne thought. I’m still too human for my liking.

  Purna, who was sitting beside Khaster, took his hand. ‘I will be greatly honoured to fight at your side.’

  Khaster glanced at Varencienne with a startled expression. She knew what he was thinking.

  Later, she was able to talk privately to him about it. The Hamagarids had opened several more flagons of walnut liquor to toast the new alliance and, despite the late hour, no one seemed incline to go to bed. Purna left the fire for a while and Varencienne made use of the opportunity. She went to sit beside Khaster. ‘Purna shouldn’t come with us, unless you want to have an added complication. His feelings are obvious.’

  Khaster raised an eyebrow. ‘You can read my mind.’

  ‘Tayven will be at Old Caradore. I just know it. He is part of your Brotherhood. If you want to mend that situation, you don’t need an appendage like Purna.’

  Khaster rubbed his face. ‘I’m not sure the situation is mendable, Ren, but at the very least I want accord between us.’ He sighed. ‘Tonight, I felt I was doing the right thing. It was like coming alive again, free of old guilt, pain and shame. It was good.’

  Varencienne winced inwardly. She was glad to be his confidante but this wasn’t without pain for her.

  Khaster rubbed her arm. ‘I’m sorry. You probably don’t want to hear this. I can’t thank you enough for what you’ve done for me, butc We can’t be together, Ren. You do know that, don’t you?’

  She forced a smile. ‘I’ve awoken the man who fell in love with Tayven. I know.’

  ‘It’s not just that,’ he said. ‘You are beautiful and I find you very attractive. I certainly love you as a sister and in another world the rest might follow. It’s mainly because of Val. It’s too complicated.’

  ‘Story of my life,’ Varencienne said bitterly. ‘Merlan said that too.’

  Khaster’s eyes widened. ‘You and Merlan?’

  ‘Yes. Shocked?’

  He laughed uncertainly. ‘No, no. It’s just that I still think of him as a child, I suppose.’

  ‘Oh, he’s very much a man, Khas. The next best thing to you.’ She clasped her knees. ‘The saddest thing is that Val and I will never share the kind of love I want. He is my husband, and no other man can love me openly, because of my position. I’m doomed to a life of furtive affairs.’

  ‘We have to hope we’ll all still have lives to live in the future,’ Khaster said, ‘whether doomed or otherwise.’

  ‘I know. We could all die very soon.’

  For some moments, there was silence between them. Varencienne looked up at Khaster slyly and found him gazing at her. ‘Just once,’ she said softly. ‘That’s all. Give us that.’

  He continued to stare at her. ‘Sometimes, the Malagash comes out in you, doesn’t it?’ he said quietly. ‘Bayard’s sister.’

  She didn’t answer.

  Khaster ran his hands through his hair and exhaled with a soft groan. ‘It would feel as if I were taking advantage of you.’

  Varencienne snorted. ‘Khaster, really. I’m a grown woman, with my own mind. It’s what I want.’

  ‘I’ve experienced life again tonight,’ he said. ‘I want more of it. It seems selfish.’

  ‘It isn’t.’

  ‘I don’t want any regrets.’

  ‘You won’t get any. I promise.’ She reached out and ran her hand down his face. ‘There are many paths in the forest.’

  ‘Shan?’

 
‘Forget him. I have.’

  ‘Malagash!’

  ‘Yes,’ she said. ‘I am.’ She got to her feet. ‘Come with me now. I’m not going off alone and waiting for a man who might not join me.’

  Without words, he stood up. ‘Lead me then, Lady Darkness.’

  As they left the fire, Purna approached them. Varencienne’s heart sank, but the youth only grinned at them cheerfully and gave them a somewhat salacious salute. Clearly, jealousy was not a part of the Hamagarid character. Unfortunately, it could be a great part of most other people’s. Of Shan, there was no sign.

  Chapter Thirty: Night of Fire

  Although thunderheads had massed on the horizon of the Magravandian mountains every evening for over a week, rain had not broken through, and the air was sultry, almost unbreathable, conjuring every foul stink from the lowliest quarters of the city. People can be driven to strange actions under the influence of heat. Men and women who’d remained in the shadows came forth, bringing their maledictions with them.

  Tatrini was taking a late supper, beneath the quickly-waving fan of a page. It was almost too much effort to eat, even though her favourite morsels had been prepared for her. Earlier, she’d thought she’d heard thunder, but on going to examine the sky from her parlour window she had seen only a bloody sunset, which turned her garden red. The sun looked as if it was dying as it fell into the arms of the cathedral spires that, even from the high vantage of the palace, could be seen above the walls.

  As she slowly ate her dessert – rather flabby strawberries and cream on the turn to rancid – she’d heard distant shouts. She’d not paid this much attention, as there had been a lot of shouting since the incident at the boiler rooms. People were unnerved by the disappearance of Rav Palindrake, and truth had swiftly been distorted into fiction by hysterical rumours. Not least among these was the idea that the curse of the Palindrakes had been broken and that the Dragon Lord had secretly been amassing allies within the empire and that soon this horde would march upon Magrast, intent on slaughtering every man, woman and child in the city.

  Tatrini had made sure her agents had gathered every rumour and wondered privately whether the Fire Chamber had anything to do with them. It was surely in its interest for public opinion to be against Valraven, and what better way to do it than through the threat of extinction? Valraven had been turned into a dark and vengeful god, but as in the case of every religion, rabid fanatical factions had arisen. All gods have their Chosen Ones, who through devotion and piety believe themselves impervious to divine plague or curse. Valraven’s followers were reputed to call themselves the Dragonards. Whether they actually existed, or whether the slogans that had appeared on walls in the market areas had been written only by troublemakers and youngsters for a lark, Tatrini was unsure. She steeled herself to weather the storm, for every day its potential built in strength and emotion. Gastern had been squirreled away in the country, along with his drooping empress and listless son, and now Almorante was acting emperor. People felt uncomfortable with this. It was a departure from tradition and showed only that the Malagashes were not invulnerable. People became conscious, in dreams or waking reality, of the empire spreading out to every quarter of the world, and the most aware realised that for every subjugated realm there was a potential rebellion and the conquering wave that had surged outward might very well reverse direction.

  Tatrini pushed away her half-finished dessert and lay back exhausted in the cushions of her chair. Soon, the Fire Chamber would make public that the military was to march on Caradore. Preparations for a campaign were already underway. It was expedient, if only to squash the rumours about Valraven. Without taking any action himself, he had become more than a legend. Tatrini still wondered whether he was lost in the wilderness somewhere, searching for his wife and daughter, completely oblivious to what was taking place at home. That was the true stuff of legend, like an archetypal myth or a moral fable concerned with the evils of gossip.

  Tatrini, half dozing, heard the sound of booted feet marching nearby. She heard isolated calls, strange barked orders. Then the crash of doors opening. She sat upright. Within moments, Grisette Pimalder ran into the room, without pausing to knock or request entrance.

  ‘Who?’ Tatrini snapped.

  Before Grisette could answer, Rufus Lorca strode across the threshold accompanied by six Splendifers.

  ‘What is the meaning of this?’ Tatrini demanded perfunctorily, even as she spoke, wearily aware of the hackneyed aspect of the question. She had to say it: it was her line. Tonight, she felt, there would be many standard lines uttered.

  Lorca bowed stiffly. ‘Your grace, the Fire Chamber has ordered you be taken to a place of safety.’

  ‘I am quite safe here. What has happened? Don’t try to fool me, boy. Speak the truth.’

  ‘An attempt has been made on the life of the emperor.’

  Tatrini rose from her chair. ‘Almorante? Was he harmed? Give me a full report at once.’

  Lorca’s face was expressionless, but sickly white. ‘The emperor escaped unscathed. He was dining with his brothers, Prince Roarke and Prince Celetian, as well as several of their friends. A group of masked individuals broke into the room. In the scuffle, the emperor’s brothers were injuredc’

  ‘Wait!’ Tatrini interrupted. ‘How did people get into the palace? Were the guards asleep?’

  ‘Your grace, it is being investigated.’

  ‘What of my sons?’

  Lorca hesitated. ‘The physicians are with them. One of the other men was pronounced dead on the scene.’

  ‘What of my sons, boy?’ Tatrini asked in a darker tone.

  ‘The prognosis is not good,’ Lorca replied. ‘That is all I know.’

  Tatrini took a deep breath. Part of her was unsurprised by this news, part was perturbed. Celetian and Roarke were injured badly. They were her sons, but in many ways little more than names to her. What did she feel? Tatrini was aware this was unnatural and was surprised to find herself unnerved by it. Despite this, she spoke with a calm voice. ‘I trust Prince Bayard and Prince Leo have been given adequate protection?’

  Lorca eyed her speculatively. ‘All the princes and their families are now under close supervision.’

  There was a tone to his voice that Tatrini interpreted as suspicious accusation. Lorca was wondering whether Bayard was, in fact, behind the attack. He was certainly capable of it, and he’d voiced his displeasure to his mother vociferously over Almorante being given the crown, albeit temporarily. Now it was in place, Bayard could not imagine it ever passing to anyone else - namely himself. Perhaps the heat and fever of the city had driven him to desperate measures.

  ‘Were the men caught who attacked my sons?’

  ‘Most of them, your grace. They claim to be Dragonards.’

  Tatrini raised her eyebrows. ‘Indeed? Then they do exist.’

  ‘It is what they claim to be.’

  Tatrini smiled gently. ‘You don’t want them to exist, do you? You don’t want to believe ill of your Dragon Lord.’

  Lorca bowed. ‘I must leave now, your grace, but will station two men at your door. Prepare yourself to leave the city. It has been decided your household should be taken to Recolletine, where it is safe.’

  Tatrini stood up. ‘Soon the order will come to march on Caradore. How do you feel about that, Captain Lorca? How do your men feel?’

  ‘We do our duty,’ Lorca replied and the look in his eye informed Tatrini he had her measure. ‘You need not fear for your security.’ He stalked out of the room, followed by his men.

  Tatrini had no intention of being tucked away in Recolletine. She clapped her hands at Lady Pimalder, who was still drooping on the floor in a puddle of skirts, not having risen from her initial skidding curtsey. ‘Come Grisette, see to my face and hair. I must make a social call.’

  If the Splendifers were aware of the warren of passageways that burrowed through the walls of the palace, they knew only a few of th
em. The men on duty at Tatrini’s door had no inkling that the Grand Queen Mother had slipped away virtually from beneath their noses. Taking Grisette Pimalder with her, Tatrini hurried along the cramped, creaking corridors, where needles of light came through cracks in the walls.

  They emerged in a high gallery, a short distance from Lord Senefex’s chambers. Long unused, its walls were bare of the portraits that had once hung there and the windows overlooking the city far below were almost opaque with grime. Tatrini glanced out of them and saw that the sunset still raged on the horizon. Then she paused and rubbed the glass.

  ‘What is it, your grace?’ Grisette asked.

  ‘Look,’ Tatrini said in a flat tone. ‘The city burns.’

  The cathedral was limned in flame, apparently impervious to Madragore’s chosen element. It presided over a realm of fire. Gouts of oily smoke hung like fog above the rooftops of the merchant quarter and occasionally a spurt of sparks would shoot up as explosions some miles away shook the palace walls.

  ‘It was not thunder we heard earlier,’ Tatrini said.

  Lady Pimalder pressed one hand briefly to her mouth, then said, ‘I did not see this.’

  ‘We cannot foretell everything,’ Tatrini said. ‘Come, we must hurry.’

  Tatrini had to shove the guards aside at Senefex’s door. Within, she could hear the low hubbub of male voices. It appeared that the Fire Chamber was in unofficial session.

  Frightening with a snarl any servants who might have barred her entrance, Tatrini swept into Senefex’s office. As she’d suspected most of the Chamber were present, including a clutch of generals and Mordryn.

  ‘Good evening, gentlemen,’ Tatrini drawled. ‘You have not invited me to the meeting. It is most remiss of you, but I will forgive you, on this occasion. It seems we have trouble at hand.’