Every man who could be saved was needed in the battles to come.
###
Ridmark tugged Kyralion’s sword free from the crumbling dust and red rags that had been Khurazalin, reversed the blade, and presented the hilt to Kyralion.
“That was a hell of a throw,” said Ridmark as Kyralion took the sword.
“Thank you.” Kyralion offered one of his awkward bows. “I am glad it proved timely.”
“It did,” said Tamlin, gazing at the wreckage of the creature that had murdered his wife. “Between you and Kalussa, you might have decided the battle.”
“Aye,” croaked Aegeus, his face glistening with sweat. “Hell of a fight. Let’s never do that again…”
He raised one finger, turned his head, and was sick.
Tamlin let out a quiet laugh. “That’s why you don’t go to battle drunk.”
“Aye,” said Ridmark, looking for Calliande.
He spotted her with Kalussa, who stood holding Khurazalin’s staff. If she had not wrenched that staff from Khurazalin, the Maledictus might have won the fight. Already Calliande was hurrying to tend to the wounded, many of whom had been burned by the acidic touch of the abscondamni.
But many more of the men and women lying on the floor were beyond all help.
It seemed they had won the battle.
But, God and the saints, at what cost?
***
Chapter 24: The Kings of Owyllain
The next morning, Hektor Pendragon sent a messenger to summon Ridmark to the Palace of the High Kings.
It was almost noon, and he did not wake Calliande. She had labored late into the night, pushing her abilities to the limit to heal as many men as she could manage. Ridmark had assisted her when he could, using Oathshield’s limited abilities to heal, but the bulk of the work had fallen upon Calliande. As ever, she had healed the most severely injured men, those who would die without her magic. The remainder of the wounded men would have to trust to non-magical remedies. As Calliande had so often before, she had pushed herself beyond her limits and had fallen unconscious, and Ridmark had carried her back to Tamlin’s domus to rest.
Ridmark was exhausted himself, but in a grim way, it was heartening. Six months ago, paralyzed with the grief of Joanna’s death, Calliande would not have been able to deal with the crisis so well. Instead, she had risen to the challenge, and many men lived who would have died if not for her magic. Ridmark had come to understand that his wife had an element of restlessness to her nature, a need to test herself in the service of others, like a blade that required constant sharpening.
But he wished she had not had to test herself against such a terrible battle.
She had saved many…but many others had died.
Ridmark let her sleep, donned his clothing and armor, checked in to see his sons receiving a morning lesson from Father Clement, and then followed the young hoplite to the Palace of the High Kings.
Plumes of smoke rose from the pyres near the Agora of Connmar as the slain were cremated, and the church bells of the city let out a constant doleful tolling. Many men had died, and their funeral rites would be conducted today, their souls commended to the Dominus Christus in paradise.
The hoplite led him past the great hall, which was still closed as human and saurtyri servants worked to clean up the blood and the slain, and to the cellars of the Palace. The young soldier opened a door, and Ridmark followed him into a cold vault. It resembled the vault beneath the church that housed the Low Gate, with the same style of thick stone pillars supporting a vaulted ceiling. But the air down here was freezing, and Ridmark realized why after a moment. The Arcanii had inscribed sigils of elemental ice upon the pillars, their magical cold radiating into the vault. It was one of the more practical uses of elemental magic Ridmark had seen. The vault could be used to store food and chill wine.
Or corpses until they could be cremated.
Wooden tables held some of the dead from the great hall. Or pieces of the dead, since some of them had been slain by the attacks of the Staff of Blades. Others had been burned horribly by the acidic touch of the abscondamni. One table held the body of Queen Adrastea, her eyes closed, a scarf wound around her neck to conceal the fatal wound.
King Hektor Pendragon stood over the table, gazing at his dead wife.
“Thank you, hoplite,” said Hektor without looking up. “Please leave us.”
The hoplite bowed and left Ridmark alone with the King and the dead.
Hektor’s eyes met Ridmark’s. The King seemed to have aged twenty years, his black eyes flat and full of terrible pain.
“I am sorry,” said Ridmark, “for what has happened.”
“You shouldn’t be,” said Hektor. “It was not your doing. And you and the Keeper saved us from utter catastrophe.”
“Nevertheless,” said Ridmark. “I know what it is to lose a wife. I would not wish it on any man.”
Hektor’s gaze fell back upon Adrastea. “Nor would I. And I have known it twice.” He shook his head. “I am a fool. I am David, but my blindness was far more destructive.”
“David?” said Ridmark, confused.
“King David from the scriptures,” said Hektor. “Do you understand?”
Ridmark inclined his head as he remembered and understanding came. “In the scriptures, King David had a son named Absalom whom he loved. But Absalom came to hate his father and his other half-siblings. He rebelled against David and tried to overthrow his father, but was slain in the following battle.”
Hektor let out a long, weary breath. “I loved my son, Lord Ridmark. I loved him with all my heart. Do you understand that? Yes, I know you do. Sir Archaelon threatened your sons, and you destroyed him for it. I would have done the same for Rypheus. I would have given him anything he asked of me, anything at all. But I could not save him from himself.”
“No,” said Ridmark. He would do anything for his sons. But what would he do if his sons grew into men like Rypheus? He prayed that God would spare them from such a fate.
“Maybe you men of Andomhaim are wiser than we are,” said Hektor, “to only take one wife and no concubines. I thought…I thought Rypheus loved my other children. Instead, he tried to slay them all.”
“Perhaps,” said Ridmark. “But full siblings can hate each other just as fiercely. In Andomhaim, five Pendragon princes warred against each for fifty years and almost brought the realm to ruin.” He shook his head. “Treachery from someone you love is the cruelest blow of all.”
“Yes,” said Hektor. “Do you recall from the scriptures? After Absalom was slain, David wept and mourned and locked himself in his chambers. His men lost heart and wavered. I might have repeated David’s folly once, but I shall not do so twice. There will be no mourning for Prince Rypheus. He will be declared a traitor to Owyllain, his body burned and his ashes dumped into the River Morwynial. No one shall mourn him…save for his father, who shall mourn for him until the end of his days.”
Ridmark nodded. “Then you still mean to march north?”
“I have no choice,” said Hektor. “Justin Cyros is coming for Aenesium with the Sword of Earth, and if we do not stop him, he shall stride into the great hall of the Palace before the month is out. The kings of the other three cities allied with me will arrive today. It will take us a few days to recover from this…this grievous blow, but march we must.”
“So be it,” said Ridmark.
“Will you accompany us, Lord Ridmark?” said Hektor. “Twice now you have saved us from utter disaster, first at Castra Chaeldon and again here. I fear that if you and the Keeper do not accompany us against Justin Cyros, a catastrophe will befall us.”
“That is more confidence than one man and one woman merit,” said Ridmark.
Hektor looked up and met his eye once more. “No. It is not.”
The silence stretched in the chilly room. Ridmark thought of his sons, of the festering hate he had seen on Rypheus Pendragon’s face, of Khurazalin and Qazaldhar and Rypheus ranting about t
he New God. Rhodruthain had claimed that he had brought Ridmark here to save his sons from the New God. Perhaps the Guardian had been telling the truth.
“Yes,” said Ridmark. “We will accompany you.”
“And I thank you and God for that,” said Hektor. He took a long breath. “Another few moments and I shall have to be the King of Aenesium. There is no place for a mourning husband and father. The mask must never waver. So I shall give you the highest blessing I know, Ridmark Arban. May you never be as wretched as I now am.”
Ridmark stood in silence with Hektor Pendragon over the body of his wife, and then followed the King of Aenesium from the vault.
###
“All right,” said Calliande. “Try it now.”
Kalussa took a deep breath, trying to calm herself.
She was as frightened as she had ever been in her life.
When she had wrenched the Staff of Blades from Khurazalin’s grasp and fallen to the floor, she had been certain that she was going to die. The crystalline needles had almost torn her apart. Calliande had stopped the process and healed the injuries, but Kalussa still felt the presence of the Staff in her mind, its cold, metallic magic filling her thoughts.
It was terrifying. Worse, Calliande had said that the Staff was bonded to her, that her own magic had fused to it. The Staff’s magic was so overpowering that it might destroy Kalussa, and Calliande feared that if Kalussa walked too far from the Staff, the bond might kill her.
She needed to learn how to use the Staff.
Kalussa and Calliande had gone to the beach south of Aenesium’s walls, far enough from the city that any mishaps would not hurt anyone. The sea pounded against the sand in waves of foamy surf, and the salt-scented breeze filled her nostrils.
Kalussa set down the Staff, turned, and walked south.
She walked for about a hundred yards before Calliande called her back.
“The bond didn’t change,” said Calliande as Kalussa returned and picked the Staff up from the sands. “I don’t think it will kill you if you walk too far away.”
“Oh,” said Kalussa. “Oh, good.”
Relief flooded through her, and the blue crystal at the end of the Staff shifted into a new form. Kalussa gave it an alarmed look, fearing that it would spit forth those disks, but nothing else happened.
“It responds to your emotions and thoughts,” said Calliande. “Khurazalin was a powerful wizard, so he had the mental discipline to wield the Staff as effectively as he did…”
“But I don’t,” said Kalussa.
“No. Not yet,” said Calliande. “But it can be learned.” She sighed and stared at the ocean for a moment. “And I can teach you. You said several times that you wanted to be my apprentice. If you want to keep from accidentally killing yourself with the Staff, then I must teach you, and you will have to accompany us when Hektor marches against King Justin.”
Kalussa nodded. “If you are willing, then I shall gladly be your apprentice, Lady Calliande.”
“You will have to do as I tell you,” said Calliande. The breeze blew her blond hair around her head, and Kalussa thought it somehow made her look wild and fierce. The iciness in her blue eyes helped. “And the lessons will not be easy.”
“If that is what I must do, then that is what I must do,” said Kalussa. “Thank you.” She hesitated. “And I am…I am sorry. About Lord Ridmark. I only wanted to…”
“Don’t,” said Calliande, her voice hardening.
Suddenly her eyes were as cold as they had been when they had fought Archaelon.
Kalussa swallowed and said nothing, and Calliande sighed and pinched her bridge of her nose.
“Kalussa,” said Calliande. “You’re brave and strong. If you hadn’t gotten the Staff of Blades away from Khurazalin when you did, he would have killed us all. And…I wasn’t completely in my right mind when I came to Owyllain. The grief was too much. I didn’t have a clear mind, and I wasn’t dealing with anything well. But I think I’m doing better now. There wasn’t any other choice.” She shook her head. “I’m rambling. And you saved our lives, so you deserve only the truth from me. So here is the truth, Kalussa. If I ever see you trying to seduce Ridmark again, if I ever hear any more talk of concubinage, then you and I are finished. I will refuse to let you anywhere near my children or me, I will tell your father to send you away if he wants my help, and I won’t lift a finger to save you if the Staff kills you. Do you understand?”
“Yes,” said Kalussa, her voice a little hoarse with fear. Calliande had labored without rest to heal the wounds of the men in the great hall…but the same will that let her endure the pain of those wounds without flinching would make her a terrifying enemy. “And I’m sorry. I didn’t…I didn’t want to cause you…”
“It’s done,” said Calliande. “We won’t speak of it again.”
“No,” said Kalussa, “but before we do, I’ll say this. I all but gave myself to Lord Ridmark, and he still refused. He really does love you.”
Calliande expression softened. “He does. And I love him.”
Some spark of defiance returned to Kalussa. “And if he turned down a daughter of the King of Aenesium, then truly his love for you is strong.”
Calliande stared at her. The fear returned to Kalussa, but then the Keeper laughed. “You haven’t lost all your confidence, then. That’s good. You’re going to need that to handle what I have to teach you.”
###
“Find me again,” said Tysia. “The New God is coming.”
In his dream, Tamlin stood again at the crossroads north of Myllene, the grim milestone of the Sovereign rising before him. The dead from the great hall lay scattered on the dusty ground, Queen Adrastea and Prince Rypheus among them. Tamlin grimaced and shook his head, and the dead vanished.
“You did well, Tamlin Thunderbolt.”
He turned and saw the Dark Lady standing on the road to Cytheria, her tattered cloak stirring around her.
“Did I?” said Tamlin. “Rypheus killed so many.”
“If you had done nothing,” said the Dark Lady, her black eyes flashing, “then King Hektor would have died, Rypheus would have seized the throne of Aenesium, and offered the city to Justin Cyros. Everyone who died in the great hall would have died anyway, and many, many more with them. But your quick thinking saved King Hektor.”
“Why?” said Tamlin. “Why are you warning me about these things? I am not ungrateful. The warning of green glass and then of the gold and rubies saved my life. And many others besides. But why?”
“You will find out sooner than you wish,” said the Dark Lady, “for the New God is coming, and you and Ridmark and the others stand in its path. Be ready, Tamlin, for your next foe will be Justin Cyros himself. Are you ready to face your father?”
Tamlin grimaced. “He might be my father by blood, but he means nothing to me. He murdered my mother, and he brought war and treachery to Owyllain. If I can, I will kill him with my own hands.” He drew himself up. “I avenged Tysia. Perhaps I shall have the chance to avenge my mother.”
“Perhaps you shall,” said the Dark Lady. “Stay close to the Shield Knight and the Keeper, for like you, they stand in the path of the New God, and they are your best hope of victory. You are their best hope to stay alive.”
Tamlin awoke from his dream, but he did not feel at all rested.
###
Three days after the battle in the great hall, Calliande awoke.
It wasn’t quite dawn, and the windows of their bedroom in Tamlin’s domus were only just starting to brighten. Ridmark lay on his back next to her, eyes closed. Calliande’s mind flashed to all the things she needed to do today. The army was getting ready to march, she had to continue to train Kalussa, she needed to check on the men recovering from their injuries…
But for now, it was pleasant to lie in bed with Ridmark.
She shifted position, squirming under his arm and resting her head on his chest. Ridmark grunted, blinked a few times, and rested his arm against her
back. She hooked her leg over his, enjoying the warmth and feel of his skin. His hand began to slide down her back, and then below her back, and Calliande suddenly felt much less sleepy.
When was the last time they had started the day like this? She couldn’t remember, which meant it had been far too long.
Calliande smiled, climbed atop Ridmark, and started to kiss him.
Later, after they had finished, she rested against him as she caught her breath.
“I wasn’t expecting that,” murmured Ridmark.
Calliande smiled again. “It’s important to form good habits. And the only way to form good habits is through repetition.” She hesitated and levered up on an elbow. “I think…I should probably tell you something.”
“Oh?” said Ridmark.
He looked so contented, but the sooner she said this, the better.
“I am…very glad we are lying together as man and wife again,” said Calliande.
“So am I. So are you, unless I misjudge things.”
“Believe me, you aren’t,” said Calliande. Her smile faded. “But…I don’t think I can have any more children. After Joanna…I could only heal so much. I don’t think I can conceive again.”
Ridmark nodded. “I know.”
“You did?” said Calliande.
“I was almost certain of it,” said Ridmark. “Gareth’s birth was hard, Joachim’s was harder, and Joanna’s the hardest of all.” He let out a long breath. “I would like more children. You would, too, I think.” Calliande nodded. “But…if it cannot happen, it cannot happen.” His arm tightened against her. “Then it is a reminder to cherish what we have all the more.”
“Yes,” whispered Calliande, and she kissed him again.
They lay in silence for a while.
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