“I suppose we’ll just have to wait here until he comes back,” Dru said.
“You do think he’ll come back?” Calla asked.
“Of course! He’s a prince, he don’t know what it means to quit, and he definitely don’t know what it means to leave his friends. He’ll be back.”
“I hope so,” Calla said softly.
Rhoyan walked down the great hallway that had been carved within the mountain. Soon, he extinguished his torch as the path was growing brighter. His surroundings were captivating, and he paused often to take in the beauty of the cavern. When he reached the end of the hallway, and the source of the light, he stood in silence and gazed in awe for some moments before he could muster the thought to do anything more than stare.
Before him was a great block of stone, and there, atop the stone, was the crystal fire from the minstrel’s story. Rhoyan could barely even begin to register words to describe the glowing orb that shimmered in front of him. It flickered with every color, but it was no color in particular. It was every shape, but held no specific form. It was hot, its heat bathed his face and he almost suspected that his skin was blistering and peeling off, but it was also so cold that he felt as though he had been encased in ice. He felt as though he must be looking at the container for everything bright and beautiful in the world, and he could feel the raw power that emanated from the glittering object. He took a step forward and reached out his hand to touch the star, when the ground suddenly began to shake.
Rhoyan stumbled backwards, his arms flying up over his head as he tried to guard his face from the falling shards of rock. When he regained his footing, a great chasm yawned between him and his goal. Rhoyan gritted his teeth in frustration, kicking himself mentally and berating himself for a fool for not expecting some sort of danger. Of course the star would be protected!
Rhoyan glanced about, wondering how Lews had solved this challenge. He spotted a tiny ledge that still connected his side of the ravine to the other. He stepped cautiously nearer to it, ready to leap back to safety if the floor began to shake again. Gripping the face of the wall with straining fingers, edging his way along the ledge with a mixture of terror and excitement, he soon stood on the far side of the chasm.
Rhoyan turned his attention once more to the great stone, more wary this time. Nothing happened, so he placed his hands on the table, feeling the simultaneous waves of hot and cold washing over him once more. Then he stretched out his hands and grasped hold of the shimmering star.
He held the gleaming crystal for but a moment, but that moment was never-ending. Fire poured through him, coursing through his veins instead of blood, and the brightness of the star flooded him, piercing every dark place within him. It was agony, this cleansing; he believed he was dying. In a flash he saw every selfish thing he had ever done, heard every lie he had ever told, felt every wound he had ever inflicted, and he realized that even this quest had been pure selfishness. Then he saw his family.
His father and mother were crying quietly and his brother’s face was filled with sorrow. He wondered what was wrong and then he heard his father make the proclamation that his youngest son had perished. Rhoyan felt a twinge of guilt as he perceived that his family believed him dead and he realized that every step he had taken on this quest was hurting someone.
The scene changed and he saw his father, lying ill on his bed and calling out for Rhoyan to come home. He tried to reply, to tell his father he was here now and that everything would be all right, but his father could not see him. Then he saw his mother, locked in her room and screaming at the world, and then sobbing every night in anguish. His heart was wrenched within him and he reached out to touch his mother’s face.
“I’m here, Mother, I’m well.”
The woman started as though she had seen a ghost, and then she shook her head and tears coursed down her cheeks. “Rhoyan, my Rhoyan,” she sobbed, and then she collapsed and began to wail in an unearthly voice. Retainers rushed into the room and tried to console her, but she beat them away and continued to scream and sob.
The scene changed and he saw his brother scowling. He saw the hardships Ky had been left to face on his own and he saw how the years had hardened his face and his heart. Great tears began to course down Rhoyan’s face, burning tears that froze as they fell.
“I’m sorry, Ky,” he whispered, “I should have been there.”
Then he saw Sheyardin, lying on the burnt ground, bleeding, dying.
Rhoyan let go of the star. “That’s not fair!” he screamed angrily, and then he sank down and leaned his forehead against the cool stone and sobbed.
When Rhoyan strode back into the cave where Dru and Calla were waiting, they almost did not recognize him. They started up in surprise, weapons drawn, but Rhoyan raised his hands in a gesture of peace. Dru lowered his knife hesitantly.
“Rhoyan?”
Rhoyan did not speak, but turned silently, and led the way back up the tunnel. Calla shared a puzzled look with Dru and they followed Rhoyan until they arrived back in the palace. When they had reached daylight once more, Calla put a hand on Rhoyan’s shoulder.
“What happened to you?” she asked tentatively.
Rhoyan gazed off into nothingness for a moment. “I faced myself in there.”
“Did you find it, though? Yorien’s hand?” Dru pressed.
“I did.”
“Where is it?” Calla asked excitedly, forgetting her apprehension of this changed Rhoyan standing before her.
“It is back there.”
“You left it?” Calla asked. “After all this, everything we’ve gone through, and you left it back there? Why?”
“I thought to discover why Lews failed to retrieve the star,” Rhoyan shrugged ruefully. “But I discovered something even greater. Lews did not fail. He took the star with him, though he left it where he found it. I have done the same. None could move that great artifact from its place; none could bear to hold it for so long. I only touched it for a moment, but I feel as though I have been burned from the inside out.”
“You touched it?” Dru asked in awe. “What happened?”
“I’m not exactly sure what happened. It felt as though I were being burned and frozen at the same time, and I saw myself as I truly am. I felt every wound I ever inflicted as though someone had done it to me… I saw...” Rhoyan stopped, unwilling to ponder the images he had seen. “I don’t know how to explain it, but even though I left the star behind, I can still feel its heat as though I am carrying it with me. Every one of my senses is clearer, I feel like I’m seeing things for the first time…” he trailed off. “My words don’t give it justice.”
Calla stared at him. “You look different, Roy, older.”
“I feel like I just passed through the Corridor,” he replied, “perhaps I did.”
“We should be getting back to the ship,” Dru pointed out. “We only have a few hours of daylight left, and this is the third day. Believe me, I don’t relish going back into that forest, but I think we have to.”
“You’re right,” Rhoyan said absently, as though he were somewhere else. “I wonder how Lewstor could have done it?” he muttered quietly to himself, staring around at the crumbling palace. “How could he come back here as a High King and live so close to… that?” Rhoyan shivered as though the air around him had suddenly grown cold and he followed his friends out of the castle.
The dark forest was soon looming around them once more. Its darkness wrapped around them as though it would like nothing better than to blot out any memory of daylight. However, even though the forest was every bit as forbidding as before, the three friends traveled with lighter hearts this time. They had torches from the palace and the forest shrank back from the small light they provided. The fire comforted the travelers and its effect on the forest cheered them up immensely. They did not feel the need to speak in whispers either, which was partly due to the fact that Rhoyan simply refused to lower his voice, and his two compan
ions followed his example, albeit with a little more caution. As they walked, Rhoyan related how he had found the latch and his journey down the long hallway to the star.
“So the key to the door was Chareel,” Calla mused as Rhoyan explained how he had gotten the door open. “Strange.”
“I thought that was odd too, it was Yorien’s hand, after all. I wondered if it meant anything, or perhaps the person who created the doorway was simply a hopeless romantic.”
“I suppose we’ll never know,” Calla said after a moment’s reflection. “What was it like behind the doorway, Roy? How did you find the star?”
“After opening the door, it would have been impossible to not find it. The star was at the end of a long hall, as grand as that of the grandest palace. I did not observe any other entrances to the hall, but even if there had been other paths the heat and light of Yorien’s Hand guided my steps. Walking down that golden hall was like walking down a ray of light, the kind that the Dragon’s Eye sometimes casts in late afternoon through the clouds. There was so much power and magic in that hallway, it was overwhelming. Nobody could make that journey and deny the existence of magic.”
He fell silent when he noticed that Calla was giving him odd looks.
“What is it?” he asked.
“Huh?” Calla looked startled.
“You keep staring at me,” Rhoyan said.
“Oh,” Calla shook her head and gave an embarrassed chuckle, “you just… you don’t look the same.”
“You said something like that earlier. What did you mean?”
“You just look older, there’s a depth to you that wasn’t there before. It’s like you’ve experienced all the heartaches and losses life could throw at you and now you’ll carry that weight with you forever. Or…” she sighed. “I really don’t know how to explain it.”
“I’ve seen that look before,” Dru volunteered. “My older brother studied to be an aethalon, but he didn’t want to be a soldier, he wanted to have a rank. So he spent his entire childhood in training and when he was old enough he went to the palace and passed through the Corridor. When he came out he looked just like you do, Rhoyan, as though all his worst nightmares had come true. He told me later that while he was in that accursed place he had doubted himself to the very core, but when he came out on the other side he realized true peace. He knew he was strong enough to face himself, and after passing such a test nothing else would ever be hard again. The Corridor changed him; he never was the same after that.”
“Yes,” Calla agreed, “that’s how you look.”
Rhoyan felt that he still did not understand, but he did not press the issue. He stopped talking and quickened his stride, setting a faster pace. He wanted to get back to the beach before twilight, which was quickly approaching. He knew Captain Murry would make good on his threat to leave them behind if they were but a minute late, so he pressed on, determined to make it back to the boat before Torethset.
It was a little while later when, in mid-stride, a sickening sensation came over Rhoyan and he stopped with a suddenness that almost caused Dru to stumble into him. Dru glanced around, trying to understand why Rhoyan had halted.
“What is it?”
“I don’t know, something just feels wrong.”
“Where’s Calla?” Dru asked.
Rhoyan whirled around, searching the path behind them with a frantic look in his eyes. He peered into the gloom of the forest, but to no avail; Calla had disappeared.
CHAPTER
THIRTEEN
Seamas paced back and forth in his apartments like a caged wild thing. On the outside his face was a mask of utter calm, but on the inside he was all claws and teeth, raging against his chains and bars. The expected knock on the door caused Seamas to jump, even though he had been waiting for it. He glowered at the interruption of his thoughts and ground his teeth.
“Come in,” he snarled.
The door swung open and Bors strode into the room.
“Your Majesty? You sent for me?” the man asked smoothly, barely even noticing the scowl on the prince’s face.
“Will you stand with me?” Seamas demanded abruptly, not even bothering with the pleasantries that might have been otherwise expected of him.
Bors hardly even blinked. “I am, as ever, loyal to the true king of Llycaelon, Sire.”
“And who is the true king of Llycaelon?” Seamas asked impatiently. “I warn you, Bors, I am not in the mood for games today.”
Bors looked appropriately shocked. “Your Majesty, you are the one to whom I owe my allegiance. With all due respect, it is you who must eventually take over the rule of Llycaelon, for it is highly unlikely that your father will ever recover.”
“What about the prophecy?”
“If you will forgive me for reminding you, Your Highness, your brother is dead, or at least that was the official word.”
“Yes, but if Rhoyan were still alive?”
“I am loyal only to you, My Liege, and if your brother were to be a threat, I would do anything in my power to support you.... Anything.”
“Who else would remain loyal to me if Rhoyan returned? Does my brother have any supporters?”
Bors thought for a moment. “Not many that I am aware of, though I am sure he could garner quite a few if he somehow managed to return from the grave.”
“And what would be the outcome?”
“Sides would be chosen, there would be arguments, especially if your father still lives or is unwilling to name a clear heir. Has he made a decision yet?”
“Not that I am aware of,” Seamas replied. “Do you think there would be a war?”
“If neither one of you were willing to abdicate? Most assuredly.”
Seamas nodded shortly, and remained silent for a long moment as though considering, when at last he spoke it was without hesitation, “There are rumors that Rhoyan has been seen alive in the Eastern Isles.” His voice became strained as he continued, “Allowing him to return home could be... detrimental to the peace and safety of our land.”
Bors bowed his head. “I understand, Highness. His presence would indeed be a threat to the precarious balance that you have established here, and possibly, if I might be so bold as to say so, a threat to your father’s health as well? Especially in his already weakened state.”
“I am glad we understand each other,” Seamas spoke quietly and reluctantly, as though there was a bad taste in his mouth. “Would you also do me the favor of informing Lord Nills that, as far as I am concerned, our previous argument has been forgotten?”
“You already show wisdom beyond your years, Sire. It is a sign of a true king to be able to overlook such minor offenses.”
“ And rally the nobles most loyal to me, just in case I need to call on them.”
“I will, Sire. Though I hope my men can render that precaution unnecessary.”
Seamas glared suddenly. “My brother is not to be harmed. Do I make myself clear?”
Bors nodded, but his expression was dark. “Your Majesty does understand that your position as king is in danger so long as the younger prince lives?”
“Not to be harmed,” Seamas growled menacingly, enunciating each word slowly, “I have not sunk so low.”
Bors bowed before the prince, knowing this was a battle for another time. “I understand, Sire, he will not be harmed. Will you at least let me send you some of my guards and servants to the palace in case you are in need of extra protection?”
And so you can keep an eye on things around here, Seamas thought sardonically; but information flowed both ways, and if he knew what Bors was up to he could use the man’s schemes against him, so he nodded his assent. “Thank you.”
Lord Bors bowed once more and retreated from the room. When he was gone, Seamas felt bitterness rising in his throat. He sat wearily and lowered his face into his hands.
“Forgive me, Rhoyan,” he whispered hoarsely, “I wish there was another way. I know you
would have let me have the throne, were it up to you, but I also know you would feel bound to your duty. If you do know about the prophecy, you won’t be able to turn your back upon it. Perhaps you are a better man than I, but I have taken an oath to protect my people, even from their own fate if need be. I wonder, if you carried this responsibility, would you be able to so easily give it up?”
Seamas waited, but no answer came to him. The silence closed in on him and he sighed heavily. His face clouded and his eyes were troubled as he rose to leave his apartments and tend to the duties that called him.
❖ ❖ ❖
Rhoyan and Dru peered into the forest around them, trying to see anything that might give them a clue as to Calla’s whereabouts. Rhoyan thrust his torch at the branches, forcing the trees to cringe backwards, but there was no sign of the Rambler girl. After a few moments of shocked silence, Rhoyan began calling out to their missing companion, hoping she might answer if she was close enough to hear.
“Calla! Calla!”
Dru joined in his shouts and together they called out the girl’s name as though trying to penetrate the darkness of the forest with their shouts. They called until their voices grew hoarse and their throats became tired, and still there was no answer.
“What could have happened to her?” Rhoyan asked. “She was here just a moment ago.”
“Maybe she tripped somewhere back on the path?” Dru asked, a bit dubiously. “Or perhaps she stopped to look at something?”
“Maybe… but then why wouldn’t she answer our calls? She can’t be that far back, we would have noticed…” he trailed off and began trotting back down the path the way that they had come, he felt a sense of panicked desperation and he began to run even faster, and Dru struggled to keep up with him.
Second Son (The Minstrel's Song Book 2) Page 22
