by Sanan Kolva
“Thank you for your help,” Lyan said.
Praett raised an eyebrow, dubious. “I did as my god and as you, my master, ordered.”
“And I’m thanking you for it,” Lyan said. “Because neither of us asked for this. Now, because I can’t change what Nachyne did, I have new instructions for you.”
“As you wish, master,” Praett said, stiff.
Lyan drew a deep breath. “As much as you are able, within the restrictions placed on you by your god, act as a free creature.”
The pooka jerked, then stiffened, eyes opening wide in disbelief. He stared at Lyan, clearly waiting for some qualifier, some trick. After a long moment of silence, Praett asked, “Am I free to leave, master?” His voice held neither defiance nor scorn.
“Is there any chance you’ll call me ‘Lyan’?” Lyan asked.
“No.”
“You’re free to go, Praett,” Lyan said. “In whatever form you want to take.”
The pooka turned and strode toward the door, stopped, looked back, and said “Thank you, master.” He opened the door and was gone.
Kithr eyed Lyan. “Was that a good idea?”
“I don’t know,” Lyan admitted. “But I think it the right one. Let’s find Cailean.”
They walked into the hall. Movement on either side of the door made Lyan tense; he gripped Equinox tight. Two men wore Cailean’s colors, but he didn’t recognize them.
Kithr spoke in Elven. “The Tathren lord insisted these men guard your door. It’s Tathren tradition, and meant as a complement to visiting nobles or dignitaries.”
And not an insinuation of distrust, as it would be in Eilidh Wood.
The guards shifted uneasily when Kithr spoke in Elven. Lyan turned to them with a friendly smile. “Hello. Do you know where we could find Cailean?” He caught himself, thinking it might give a better impression if he at least tried to remember to use Tathren conventions. “Um, Lord Cailean, I mean.”
“Don’t worry, sir—Lord Cailean told us that you… um, your people don’t use titles much and he doesn’t mind you calling him by his given name,” the one on the right said quickly.
“And Aikan scowled the whole time Cailean said it too, I imagine,” Lyan said.
Both men laughed, relaxing. “Well, Aikan is, um, very….” One man searched for a word.
“Proper?” Lyan suggested. “Yes, he is, but he’s a good man.”
“Aye, he is,” agreed both Tathrens. “You can probably find Lord Cailean in the Great Hall going through reports. Need us to show you the way?”
“We can find it,” Lyan said with another smile. “Unless that’s one of your duties? I’m not familiar with most Tathren conventions.”
“We can guide you if you want us to, sir, but it’s up to you,” answered the man on the left.
“Lyan,” he said. “I’m just Lyan of Eilidh Wood.” He shifted Equinox into his left hand and extended the right.
“Gerrit, sir,” said the man on the right, shaking Lyan’s hand.
Kithr snorted. “He means he’d rather be called by name than sir.”
Gerrit flushed, mumbling an apology.
The man on the left also shook Lyan’s hand. “I’m Toman, s… Lyan. Nice to meet you.”
Lyan was pleased to see that neither guard hesitated to take his hand. “A pleasure,” he agreed.
They left the two Tathrens, Kithr in the lead. Lyan asked, “Ewart’s men are out of the keep?”
“The surprise attack by Cailean’s men, the death of their lord, and the presence of a couple gods discouraged most resistance,” Kithr said. “Many surrendered. Some fought. They died. The rest are waiting in the dungeon until Cailean decides their fate.”
Lyan shivered, remembering the cold, dank cells. He didn’t envy those men.
o0o
The halls of the keep bustled with life that had been absent the previous day. Men and women rushed about, though they were quick to avoid Kithr and Lyan. The activity disoriented Lyan. They finally descended a broad staircase into an open room and he saw the main doors, orienting him. The doors stood open, admitting a constant flow of people in plain dress, drab browns and the occasional splash of blue or green, tracking mud over the floors.
“One of the first things Cailean did was announce that he’d host a feast tonight to honor the retaking of the keep, Ewart’s fall, and our help,” Kithr told Lyan. “His people jumped at the chance to celebrate Cailean’s return, so things are pretty busy here.”
Kithr made for a set of wide doors, and Lyan hurried after him, pulling from his gawking. To watch Kithr’s firm stride, he might not have taken a single injury from the fighting of the previous days. Servants scrambled from his path and guards tensed. Kithr didn’t acknowledge them, opening the doors into a long hallway.
As they approached the other end of the hall, a door opened to one side and Aikan stepped out, head bowed as he sorted through a stack of parchments, muttering irately under his breath. Aikan’s head rose when he heard steps on the polished stone floor, and he fixed the expected glower on Lyan and Kithr.
“It’s about time you woke up! Lord Cailean’s been worrying.”
“How is he, Aikan?” Lyan asked.
Aikan paused. “Better.” Another pause. “Far better, since Porephyn’s death.”
“Good.” Lyan nodded, acknowledging the words Aikan wasn’t saying as well as those he was. You’re welcome.
Aikan pushed open the door into the Great Hall. The ceiling rose high above their heads, giving Lyan enough room to breathe, and windows along one wall let in light, though it was muted by the storm outside. At the far end of the room, a raised dais held an ornamented chair, but Cailean sat at the long table, studying charts strewn over it. Cailean gripped Solstice with a possessive air Lyan understood well. Yion stood near Cailean, pointing at something on one of the charts.
Cailean didn’t look up as they approached. “More records, Aikan?” he complained.
“Records and elves, my lord,” Aikan answered.
Cailean’s head jerked up, and his expression brightened. “Lyan! Gods, it’s good to see you.” He jumped to his feet, moving with an energy he’d lacked before.
Lyan grinned. “Not as good as it is to see you alive and well, Cailean. And with Solstice.”
Cailean nodded, expression sobering. “Thank you, Lyan. Without help from you and Kithr, I couldn’t have regained Solstice or the ability to use it.”
Kithr snorted, folding his arms over his chest. “And don’t forget it.”
“I won’t,” Cailean responded. “Believe me, I won’t forget what you’ve done for me, and if there is ever anything I can do to repay my debt…”
“Friendship isn’t a debt, Cailean,” Lyan said. “I did what I could. I probably didn’t do it as well as I could have, or as well as someone with more skill could have.” He gave both Cailean and Kithr a wry grin. “And thinking of that… have you decided who gets to be the first to smack me upside the head for attempting single combat with a high priest of the Mad God?”
Yion spoke, his voice smooth and calm. “You fought well, Lyan Stargazer. Not even I could have won against Porephyn without aid my lord could not give me, because of the wards over the keep.”
“Can someone really create wards powerful enough to deny the gods entry?” Lyan asked.
“With the blessing of the Mad God, and enough blood shed in sacrifice, yes, I fear they can,” Yion answered.
“But Nachyne entered,” Lyan argued.
Yion nodded. “Such wards take a great many sacrifices to create. The blood needed to craft enough of them to deny access to all the gods would leave no one left alive in the land to need such protection. Porephyn and Ewart built their wards to prevent the intervention of any god of Tather. They expected no other to have any interest in the matter, and certainly did not anticipate Lord Nachyne’s entrance.”
“Which you have yet to explain,” Cailean added.
“Because of events involving a pr
evious Spearbearer, Nachyne has a vested interest in making sure the Mad God never gets hold of Equinox again,” Lyan answered. “A very personal interest.”
Cailean scowled, but only briefly. “In any case, Yion is right, Lyan. None of the rest of us could have fought that priest… Porephyn.” Cailean seemed to struggle with the name. “None of us could have fought him and won.”
A sobering thought, and one Lyan was immensely glad he hadn’t had before the battle began.
Cailean clapped a hand on Lyan’s shoulder. “Now, I keep hearing about a tree and some argument over it?”
“Have you seen it yet?” Lyan asked.
Cailean shook his head. “Not yet. Aikan said we should wait for you. I admit I haven’t been eager to go back to that site, but now, it’s time. Yion, Aikan, if you would accompany us?”
Aikan set his papers on the table and nodded in sharp agreement. “No one has disturbed the courtyard since we left it, my lord, at my orders.”
Cailean led the way to the courtyard. Lyan recognized the halls as they neared, remembering the dogs rushing at them. A pair of nervous guards, damp from the rain, stood watch at the doorway into the courtyard. They snapped to salute Cailean.
“Lord Cailean, no one’s tried to enter, sir. Or leave.” The last was added with a note of fear.
“Thank you,” Cailean told them. “Well done.”
He stepped into the courtyard and walked over the ruined gate that lay twisted on the soggy ground. Lyan followed, using Equinox to steady himself. Rain poured down, washing away signs of battle. The bodies of Ewart’s guards killed by the pooka were only slumped, dark shapes. Lyan climbed the low steps into the plain building. The shelter offered a brief reprieve from the rain, but when they entered the main room, water dripped down again. The oak’s canopy spread over the hole it had ripped in the roof, but rain ran off leaves to fall down on them. As Lyan entered, the branches rustled, spraying water like a dog shaking off after a plunge in a river.
While Lyan had slept, roots had spread across the floor. A knotted clump of roots covered the spot where Porephyn had died. The rain-washed corpses of Ewart and his guards lay untouched, their fate left in Cailean’s hands.
Cailean’s gaze was arrested by the tree itself. “This… killed Porephyn?” he asked softly. “It’s moving. The trees in Eilidh Wood did as well.”
“I woke its spirit when Equinox pulled it into maturity. The trees in Eilidh Wood are awake as well,” Lyan said.
“And those in Malgor Forest?” Aikan asked sharply.
“Yes,” Lyan admitted. “But unlike Nylas, I’m not Lost, and this tree knows me, not Nylas and his winterborn blooddrinkers. It won’t attack my friends.” He held out his hand, and a branch drooped low to brush his fingers like a horse nuzzling its rider. “Go ahead,” he told Cailean.
Cailean hesitated, then imitated Lyan, holding out a hand. The branch shifted from Lyan to Cailean, teasing over the outstretched hand. Leaves sprinkled water in his palms. Cailean laughed softly.
“Lyan, this tree is a welcome resident to this courtyard, and one I will gladly accept over the previous one,” he said. “I’ll have this wretched building torn down stone by stone, but the tree stays.”
“My lord approves of your decision, Lord Cailean,” Yion said. He turned to Lyan. “He hopes the elves of Eilidh Wood and the people of Tather can take steps toward reconciliation despite the difficulties of the past. They should look toward their common enemy.”
Cailean smiled wryly. “Lord Saiboti doesn’t need to convince me, Yion, and I doubt Lyan requires convincing either.”
“Then the Spearbearers have the task of carrying that message among their peoples,” Yion told him. “The Mad God has lost this battle, but the war is not yet won.”
“I know.” Lyan’s hand closed tight around Equinox. “But at least we know we can stand against him.”
“True enough,” Cailean agreed. “And tonight, we celebrate this victory and the beginning of an alliance between Tather and Eilidh Wood!”
Kithr snorted. “If you can call two elves and one Tathren stronghold working together the beginning of an alliance.”
“It’s more than we’ve had before,” Cailean responded.
“True enough,” Kithr allowed. “True enough.”
Chapter Twenty-Four
Stars above, their secrets keep
The ways of men below, they see
Stars above, in silence weep
For every man who would be free
Cailean’s people worked wonders, rising with enthusiasm to the challenge of preparing a feast in less than a day. Servants cleaned the Great Hall and decorated it with basket-loads of fresh plants and flowers. Not only the keep’s kitchen, but kitchens all through the village below the fortress hill leapt into frenzied activity. Cailean spared little expense.
As evening fell, the feast began, filling the Great Hall with people, food, and music. Lyan ate his fill, conversed with his friends, and endured the scrutiny of gawkers. He left Equinox with Solstice resting in a spear rack on the dais. The Spears didn’t draw nearly as much interest as the elves did.
Once servants cleared the meal, the room grew stuffy, even the wide walls and high ceiling not enough to eliminate a sensation of being closed in. When Lyan left the table to mill, he drifted toward the door until he found his way outside.
Boisterous throngs filled the courtyard, where more tables had been set up to accommodate the people who couldn’t fit into the Great Hall. No doubt some protocol dictated who entered the hall and ate with Cailean, but Lyan didn’t attempt to figure it out. The crowds were thick, and bright torches lit the night. Lyan skirted around the edge, keeping his head low and avoiding drawing attention. The glare of light would spoil the view of the sky, and he kept his eyes down, determined his first sight of the stars after so long not be unsullied by torchlight.
Even the guards relaxed. Lyan approached the steps to the outer wall. A man stopped him briefly, letting him pass when he recognized Lyan as one of Cailean’s elven guests. With a nod of thanks, Lyan climbed the steps onto the broad wall. He walked toward the back side of the keep, away from the lights and the noise. Below and behind, he could still hear the echo of celebration, and he smiled. The wine filled him with a pleasant warmth, and summer wind blew across his face, teasing strands of red hair that slipped free of his braid.
Finally, he raised his eyes to the night sky. He stumbled, bumping against a battlement. The pleasant tipsiness faded in cold fear. The heavens above remained shrouded by thick clouds.
But Porephyn is dead. I killed him. His enchantment should be broken.
“So, you’re Lyan, the stargazer from Eilidh Wood.”
The unfamiliar voice made Lyan turn sharply. He was sure he’d been alone, but now another man stood nearby, though he’d neither seen nor heard the other approach. The man leaned casually against a battlement, as if he’d been there the entire time. A wide-brimmed hat shadowed his features, but his eyes caught the glimmer of distant torchlight, and his mouth curved in a smile. His clothing looked like silk, deep red swirled with gold.
“Who are you?” Lyan asked, stepping back.
“Not only a stargazer, but also the Spearbearer of Equinox. An impressive feat no elf managed for hundreds of years. Well done. Well done indeed.”
“Who are you?” Lyan repeated. God or mortal? Who… what are you?
The stranger stepped closer and, with a wave of a hand, ignored the question. “You’ve fought with such determination, and you’ve succeeded beyond your dreams. Beyond even my dreams, to tell the truth. You deserve a reward. No, don’t say anything. I know what brought you out here, and I know what you seek.” The stranger raised his open hand toward the sky, fingers curling as if he seized something. He jerked down, like a man pulling away a covering. Lyan saw the gleam of white teeth when the stranger smiled again. “My gift to you, Spearbearer.”
Lyan frowned, but the man gestured at the sky, and Lyan looked up on
ce more.
His mouth fell open in shock. As if they had never been, the clouds were gone and the night clear. Stars glittered.
“You… Who…?” He couldn’t manage to say more.
“I must thank you,” the stranger continued, taking yet another step closer, voice growing lower, dangerous. Lyan’s mind screamed a warning, but as if his will were not his own, he couldn’t tear his gaze from the stars, or even focus fully on anything else. The stranger’s words whispered in his ears like the night breeze. “Surely you didn’t think Porephyn alone could maintain an enchantment that covered half the continent? Fool that he was, Porephyn never had the skill to solve the riddle and find the Shrine of Equinox, even if he’d had an elf’s lifetime. But you, Lyan of Heartshrine Village… you did.”
Equinox. Lyan knew it wasn’t wine that muddled his thoughts, but something else, a force that denied him even the concentration to call his Spear. It overwhelmed him, demanding he gaze at the stars and follow the patterns unfolding before his eyes. He heard the stranger’s words, but his mind filled with the signs burning in the sky above, now revealed. Lyan’s lips moved in silent denials.
“You see? You see the works you have set in motion? Not even Porephyn’s greatest schemes could have opened such possibilities.”
“You… wanted him to fail,” Lyan whispered.
“I knew Porephyn would fail, if you lived up to your potential. I could read it in the stars. So I sent this minion here as well, to control the magic of the sky, freeing Porephyn and Ewart to focus on their petty plots and to drive you to greater lengths—to see if you could rise to my expectations. And you did, Lyan. Oh, you did.”
“No. No, this can’t…” Lyan tore his mind free of the smothering force desperately, one hand reaching out to the air. “Equinox!”
Nothing happened. Lyan’s eyes widened and he fell back, hitting a barrier he’d been unaware of before. At his touch, it flashed with a sickly orange glow. Lyan recoiled from it, gasping for breath. Foul magic crawled across his skin.
The stranger’s mouth curled in amusement. “You forget, I am the true Spearbearer. I know the powers of the Spears as you never will, and I know the ways to keep pretenders such as you from calling out to them.”
