Return of the Guardian-King

by Karen Hancock

  CHAPTER

  11

  Maddie sent the boys back to their nursery with Channon and went to prepare herself to meet the king. A little over half an hour later, she was striding into the newly opened royal apartments, closed and locked since the monarch had left for Peregris over a year ago.

  Hadrich’s physician, Dr. Lavek, greeted her in the outer chamber, and so far only he and the servants were there. Ronesca and First Minister Garival were still at the Kirikhal, though Lavek expected them soon.

  “I thought my father was healing,” Maddie said.

  “He’d been up and walking for over a month, the wound fading,” Lavek explained. “Then a week ago he collapsed. Spent the next night raving as the fever overtook him, and the wound—”

  He broke off as a voice shouted from the chamber behind him, “No! No! I will not see them! Take them away!” Silence followed the words, and then, in a much stronger voice, “I want to see my daughter. Bring Madeleine at once! I must see her NOW.”

  Lavek frowned. Maddie prodded him. “And the wound?”

  “The wound is something you will have to see to understand. But . . . I don’t know that you should go in just now.”

  “I want to.”

  “My lady, he may not even know you. When Leyton came to see him right before we left to return to Fannath Rill, the old man threw a candlestick at him. And that after he’d been howling for his son to attend to him all night.”

  “I’ll make sure I’m ready to dodge.”

  Lavek’s stern face grew sterner. “It’s dark in there, Your Highness. He can’t bear the light. We’ve had to put the kelistars behind screens to have any illumination at all. If you conjure one while you’re beside him, the chance is great you’ll set him off into a rage.”

  Madeleine frowned at him, chilled. “The man who fetched me said you suspect shadowspawn.”

  “Aye, spawn spore has been the issue from the start, though he’d done a purge and we thought him in the clear.”

  She frowned. Just as we thought Abramm was after the morwhol.

  Lavek led her through the bedchamber’s arched doorway into the darkness and the shocking, stomach-turning stench of vomit, feces, urine, sweat, and something close to rotting flesh, all cloaked in a thin veil of incense. Her gorge rose, and it took all her willpower not to turn and run. Pulling her kerchief from her waistband and holding it over her face, she breathed through her mouth as her eyes adjusted to the darkness.

  Kelistars lay behind two dressing screens, out of her father’s sight. Others rested in sconces on the wall above his bed, high enough that he apparently didn’t notice. The sideboard held a bowl of onions, one of which lay quartered on a plate. Candles, fat and thin, burned before a small altar of stone and evergreen—a nod to the old ways some in Chesedh still practiced and silent testimony to Lavek’s desperation to find a cure. Small tables on either side of the canopied bed held pans from which ascended streams of pale, fragrant smoke. On the table nearest her sat a plate of roast game hen, rice and almonds, and a sweet dumpling, picked at but little eaten.

  The king lay in the great canopied bed, propped up against a mountain of pillows and covered with a thin linen sheet. As her eyes adjusted to the darkness, what she saw shocked her more than the stench. Her father was but a shadow of himself, his tall frame nothing but bones. Beneath his gold circlet, long, sweat-darkened gray hair frizzed to his shoulders, framing an overgrown beard. Fissures carved his face, and his eyes had sunk so far into his head she saw nothing but shadow beneath his brows.

  Able to breathe as long as she did so through her mouth, Maddie withdrew her kerchief and approached the bed. Her father lay unmoving, his bony chest rising and falling erratically beneath his silk bedgown. She caught the vague glint of his Terstan shield through its loose weave. One of his skeletal hands picked absently at a fold in the sheet. The fingernails were long and dirty, the fingers themselves shiny with grease from picking at the food before he’d pushed it aside. Outrage stirred in her that his servants had left him in such a disheveled state. Even traveling, there was no excuse. He was the king. He deserved their respect.

  She stopped at the bedside. An empty starstick stood just behind the arrangement of flickering candles, obscured by the ribbon of scented smoke. The incense was stronger here, but so was the stench of death and rot. His eyes, the lashes caked with yellow crust, were slitted, though he had given no sign he was aware of her.

  She conjured a small kelistar and held it out to see him better, mindful he might rise up and slap it away. When he did not move, she decided he was indeed asleep. In the increased light his face looked thinner than ever, the bones pressing out against the skin. His large nose and sagging cheeks were netted with tiny red and purple lines where the smallest blood vessels had broken. Dried blood rimmed his nostrils. This close she felt his fever heat and saw that white bandages bound his abdomen beneath his sleeping gown.

  She slipped her star onto the starstick, then gingerly perched on the bedside, her throat tightening with grief.

  Finally he stirred, the watery blue eyes focusing distractedly upon her, fever-bright, bloodshot, and lined with the narrow ridge of white curd that was the sarotis. Dismay drew her stomach into a knot. Oh, Papa, not you, too . . . It was a moment before she could actually look past the curd to the eyes themselves, staring at her now and flicking back and forth in tiny oscillations.

  “So,” he said. “You’ve come.”

  His teeth were huge and yellow, the gums receded so far it was probably a miracle he had teeth at all.

  “You’ve come,” he repeated dreamily.

  She took his hand, hot and dry beneath her own. “Come to help you heal, Papa.”

  “No.” He shook his head, hair rasping against his pillow. “I will not get better. There are things we must settle between us, you and I.”

  “Those things can wait.”

  “They cannot.” Sudden strength powered the words, then faded away. “They cannot.” He lay panting for a moment. Then his eyes dropped to her swollen womb and pain flashed across the runneled face. “Oh, my poppet. I am so sorry for all that has befallen you. After all that you have lost, why Eidon would choose to lay this final indignity upon you. . . .”

  He pulled his hand free of hers to touch her belly, and a jolt zinged through her. The babe recoiled in violent reaction as Maddie herself flinched back. Hadrich seemed not to notice, reaching blindly to touch it again. She made herself take his hot, dry hand and moved it back to the bed.

  He shook his head, his red-rimmed eyes tearing up. “I never should have let Leyton press you as I did.”

  She stared at him uncomprehendingly. “When did you let Leyton press me, Papa? I haven’t seen him since I’ve returned.”

  “To marry him. I never should have pressed you to marry him. You were dedicated to Eidon, and now . . .”

  “I am still dedicated to Eidon, Father. And it wasn’t Leyton who moved me to marry Abramm. Regardless of what you said, I’d have married him anyway.”

  “He was a good man.”

  “Yes. He . . . was.” She’d almost said is.

  “You loved him? Truly?”

  “With all my heart and soul.”

  He reflected upon that for a bit. Then a frown creased his brow and he shook his head. “No . . . if you had stayed true to Eidon, if I’d not forced your hand, none of this would have happened. I lose my kingdom because of you, you know. And he has been taken from you, and at the last your womb sullied with a commoner’s seed.”

  It was her turn to frown. “Not a commoner, Papa.” She laid her hand on the swelling and smiled. “This one is Abramm’s, too.”

  “But they told me—”

  “Ronesca refuses to believe me. I wrote you all about it.”

  “Did you. . . ? I can’t recall.” He watched his fingers pluck at the sheet, then reached for her belly again. “But this one. You say it is his? You would not lie to me.”

  She headed off the wob
bly gesture and captured his hand again, trying not to be hurt by his fear she’d lie to him. “Of course not, Papa.”

  “Then it is the true heir to the Kiriathan throne. The last claim to his line.” He paused, then added firmly, “You must do away with it.”

  “What?”

  “It will destroy us all. It cannot be allowed to live.”

  His hand flew out, striking at her belly as she lurched up and back, standing at his bedside, trembling. “You speak madness, Papa!”

  His head thrashed about, hand opening and closing as the fire died from his eyes. Tears welled up in them again. “I’m sorry, Poppet. I’m sorry. Please . . . I don’t know why I said that. . . . It is the fever. I . . . there has been so much concern. Ever since Abramm was deposed. We’ve lost the Kiriathans. They’re treating with the Esurhites, you know. And they’ve become mercenaries. Or else just disbanded and fled. This child could bring so much trouble.”

  He was talking of the Kiriathan troops Abramm had lent him for the fight along the Strait. Troops sworn to Abramm who, when they learned their king had been deposed and executed, had reacted in turmoil. Some had transferred their allegiance to Chesedh, others had abandoned the field altogether, and a few had returned home. Most, however, had remained in Chesedh, gathering with the other exiles as they tried to figure out what to do next. And so far as she knew, the Kiriathans had not treated with the Esurhites, confident in the protective power of their Holy Flames. It would serve no purpose, though, to argue the point with him.

  She drew a deep breath and patted his hand, which was once more lying quietly on the folded sheet. “Right now our main concern is Belthre’gar and his armies of the Black Moon.”

  “Yes . . .” His gaze drifted unseeingly across the room. “My grandson.” He sighed. “If only I could live to see him born.”

  She squeezed his hand. “Don’t say such things, Papa. You will live to see him. You will.”

  “Wish I could have seen the others, too. I should have made the trip when I could . . . but I guess . . . maybe I will see them soon enough now.”

  “Papa!”

  “ ’Tis true, daughter. I am passing. Soon the crown will go to Leyton. And I don’t think he will hold it long. Then it will come to you.”

  “NO. You’re going to be fine. And as for your grandsons, you can see them. This very day in this very room if that is your wish. For Eidon has delivered them from the fires of Kiriath and brought them back to me. They are here in Fannath Rill right now.”

  The light flickered in his eyes again as his hand twisted to grip hers, hard. “Your sons are here?” The sudden eagerness in his voice roused her uneasiness again.

  “I sent you a letter, Papa,” she reminded him. “Telling you all about it.”

  “I . . . don’t recall.”

  She frowned at him, wondering if his forgetfulness was truly a result of his fevers or if he’d actually received any of her letters.

  Her father’s whispered words drew her attention. “What did you say, Papa?”

  “I want to see them before I die.”

  “Papa, you’re not going to die. Stop saying that!”

  He grimaced and gestured at his midsection. “Have you looked at my side, lass? ’Twas no mortal shaft that stuck me. I can feel it even now, a coldness creeping across my side.” His eyes flashed again, and he bared his teeth as he said, “Why don’t you look at it yourself? You’ve a reputation as a healer.”

  She went still, then gently drew her hand from his and sat back to glance at Lavek standing a little way behind her.

  The physician stepped forward. “Are you sure—”

  “Show her!” Hadrich snapped, that uncharacteristic temper once more empowering his voice.

  A moment more Lavek hesitated, staring from daughter to father as the latter struggled to move up on his pillows, hiking up his bedgown as he did. The impending revelation of his privates spurred Lavek into action.

  “Here, Sire. Let us.” He and Hadrich’s body servants moved hastily around Maddie to minister to their king as she gladly stepped back and let them work. Shortly they had him readied, the bedgown pulled up to his chest, the linen sheet covering his lower half and only the bandaged area around his waist revealed.

  “We’ll need to light a kelistar, sir,” Lavek said. “So I can cut this away.”

  Hadrich gave a negligent wave, but Maddie noted that he turned his face from the orb and gritted his teeth. Hadrich’s manservant held the star on his open palm as Lavek cut through the blood-and-pus-soaked bandage. As he peeled it back, the odor of rot intensified.

  A dark, mottled mass sprawled across the right side of her father’s torso, like some sort of griiswurm that had managed to slide itself under his skin. Its uneven edges extended in purple and black fingers of varied lengths, groping across skin as white and thin as writing paper. The surface was slightly raised, and almost shiny, but dry and cold to the touch, despite his fever. At the mass’s midst, a small hole oozed bloody pus.

  “What is this?” she asked, lifting her gaze to Lavek’s.

  The doctor shook his head. “No one knows. He said it was an arrow, though we found no shaft. At first it was just a normal puncture wound.”

  “Use the Light to burn it off,” Hadrich growled, his face still turned away.

  Lavek frowned. “Sire, you know we’ve tried that already.” He glanced again at Maddie. “As well as bleeding it and salting it. We even had a healer proficient in the Old Ways try his potions and spells. Nothing worked.”

  “She’s got a gift, though,” Hadrich growled. “And she’s always been strong in the Light. Dedicated to Eidon, she is. Let her try.”

  Evidently he’d forgotten his earlier declaration that she was also cursed by Eidon for marrying a Kiriathan.

  Lavek tried again. “Sire. You know how much the Light hurts you. How much strength it drains from you every time we use it.”

  “Aye, last time it sent me into blessed unconsciousness. Why should I fear that?”

  “Because last time it took you two days to come out of it, and this time you might not come out at all.”

  “So I’d be walking the high valleys of Eidon’s realm. I’d be home safe in his kingdom. Why do you wish to deny me that?” But he was still clenching his teeth and had wound his hands into the top of the sheet that covered his lower body. “Just let me see my grandsons first.”

  Lavek eased back and said quietly, “I think the only thing that remains is to try to cut it off of him.”

  “Do you have any idea how deep it goes?”

  “Deep,” Hadrich grated. “You’ll not cut it out of me. Let her try.” He swallowed hard and blinked at the side of the room where he still stared. “If she’s willing.”

  “Of course I’m willing, Papa!”

  But Lavek looked more worried than ever. His eyes dropped to her swollen belly. “Your Highness . . . we don’t know what this thing is. Or what it does. . . .”

  “I’ll go slowly. I’ll be careful. The Light will protect me.”

  Lavek pressed his lips together. He turned again to Hadrich. “Forgive me, Sire, but I thought you wished to see your grandsons first.”

  “Yes. Yes. Bring them now. And Ronesca. And Leyton should be here, as well. They all have to go.” His head writhed. “Come. They have to come. They have to be here. I have to . . . I have to . . . no.” He wrung his hands into the sheets and began to weep again. “No . . . no, no, no . . . I can’t. I won’t.”

  “Papa.”

  “No. Take it away. Take it away. Do not bring them here now. Take this thing away first. You have to. Lavek’s right—we don’t know what it will do.”

  She exchanged another glance with the physician, hesitant, for what if he died of this as Lavek feared he might? But only a moment’s thought told her that her father was right. She could hardly bear the thought of her sons being in the same room with this thing that had somehow claimed her father’s flesh.

  She lowered herself on
ce more onto the edge of the bed, then reached toward the darkness sprawling across his side and closed her eyes. Father Eidon, please, touch his body. Heal him of this blight. . . .

  She felt the Light rise within her, tingling down her arms, into her hands and fingers, then out into the infected flesh beneath them. Only not really. She opened her eyes in time to see the threads of Light skittering over the darkness and dissipating without effect. Frowning, she let loose another burst, stronger this time, willing it deeper and feeling now the resistance of a griiswurm’s aura. She set her jaw as she set her determination, and the Light flashed out of her in a great surge of power that loosed a scream from Hadrich’s lips and knocked her backward with its force.

  When they had both recovered, sweat sheened on her father’s ravaged face, and the skin around the blight had reddened. When she touched the dark mass again, he hissed and recoiled in pain.

  “Put that star out!” he growled.

  The servant flicked out the orb he still held on his palm.

  “And the other, as well,” Hadrich added.

  The man leaned forward to flick out the star Maddie had set on the bedside starstick.

  “Father, who shot you? Did you see?” Maddie asked.

  Hadrich grinned, still looking to the side of them. “I’d hoped it would be Belthre’gar himself, but it wasn’t.”

  “Was it a Broho?”

  “I don’t know,” he said, irritation sharpening his voice. “More like a foreigner—a big fellow, head again taller than those around him. And bald, save for a long black braid coming off the top of his head. And a golden breastplate. He stood afar off with his long black bow and shot his arrow at me. I felt it hit, but low as it was and off to the side, I figured it had just gone through and done little damage. Until that night when I collapsed.” He stopped to catch his breath.

  Lavek took up the tale. “By then we had no idea where to look for the fallen shaft.”