Braenlicach

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Braenlicach Page 6

by Michelle L. Levigne


  "I am helping you. I snuck them out of the fortress before anyone else could see them. They're going to make you attend the party whether you want to or not. I thought if I could get all this away from them, they wouldn't get so many ideas," the boy protested.

  "He's right," Mrillis said.

  "Now, those over-eager buffoons will think of other things to humiliate and frustrate us," Ceera countered.

  "But at least they won't be trying to outdo their ancestors."

  She opened her mouth to argue--he could see it in her eyes--then Ceera paused and frowned and thought for a moment. She closed her mouth, closed her eyes, and subsided back into her chair again. "You're right, unfortunately."

  "You have to consider that if Le'esha let them do that to her...well, either she didn't have any choice or any way of escaping, or it wasn't so bad."

  "You are no help at all. It's your wedding, too, my Lord Mrillis."

  "Lady Le'esha didn't stay for the entire party," Athrar offered. He grinned when they both sat up straight and their heads snapped around to look at him. "I read some of this, and it looks like they vanished after the first day of feasting and dancing." He chortled. "That's when I knew I had to take all this away. So those fussers in the court wouldn't think of some way of making you stay and suffer through all that silliness."

  "Hmm...escape. Now that's an idea." Mrillis met Ceera's gaze with a grin. "Disguises. Sneaking away in the middle of the night, imagining the frustration of all those men who were hoping to dance with you."

  "All the girls hoping for one last dance with you," she retorted. Ceera narrowed her eyes. "Just how many girls have you danced with, Mrillis? While you were waiting to get up the courage to kiss me?"

  "I can't remember. I try not to remember miserable times."

  "Very good answer." She turned to Athrar. "Remember that, when your sweetheart thinks she might have a reason to be jealous."

  "Sweetheart? Me?" Athrar shuddered, which made Mrillis and Ceera burst out laughing.

  * * * *

  As spring turned into summer, Triska seemed to be the only person in the Stronghold who wasn't delighted with the preparations for the wedding. Mrillis couldn't understand her sulks and her prolonged absences, in such direct contrast to her excitement when they first announced their betrothal.

  "I guess she changed her mind," Ceera said, when Mrillis mentioned the change during their evening walk on the cliffs facing the sea.

  "Doesn't every girl like a wedding, even if it isn't her own?"

  "Men." She sighed and shook her head, looking disgusted with him, but belied by the mischief in her eyes. "I was surprised when she was happy."

  "Because you thought she wanted you to marry Endor. Yes." He frowned and looked down at the foaming dark water far below. "I thought--well, I couldn't expect him to be happy for us, but I thought at least he had accepted it. Maybe he asked her to disrupt things?"

  "How could she?" Ceera caught hold of the collar of his shirt and lifted herself up on her tiptoes to give him a loud, prolonged kiss that had them both laughing when they parted. "I've finally got you right where I want you, Master Mrillis, and nothing and no one is going to yank you away from me again."

  "Tied together more firmly than all the Threads in the World could manage," he vowed. Mrillis sighed in satisfaction when Ceera let him draw her close so her head rested on his shoulder and he enfolded her in his arms. They stood a long while that way, eyes closed, luxuriating in the privacy and the warmth and peace.

  He knew what was going through her mind when she sighed after a while and started to slide her arms up between them, to push away.

  "Do you want me to act as your rear guard when you talk with her?"

  "You. Spying on my thoughts again?" Ceera lightly slapped his chest in playful rebuke.

  "She's your heir. I know what our Lady would have done if you had acted like Triska."

  "I never acted--"

  "You were a grown woman when you were six years old, and knew better than to disappoint her by acting that way." Mrillis took a handful of her long, silky hair and tangled his fingers through the straight waterfall of strands. "She's changed so much lately. Sometimes I wonder--"

  "If I made the wrong choice, and if I should find another to train as my heir?" Ceera nodded. She looked so somber and unhappy, Mrillis drew her close again.

  "The next Queen of Snows cannot indulge in sulks and grudges and keeping secrets. Especially when she does it to the current queen," he murmured. "Heirs have been deposed before, and will be again. Better to hurt her feelings now, and embarrass her, than to give over the Stronghold and the future of the Rey'kil to someone who isn't ready or suited."

  "I know." She sighed. "Don't you wish... Sometimes don't you wish they had let us be children just a little while longer?"

  * * * *

  Endor waited for them, when they finally descended and ventured toward the common room of the Stronghold. He sat by the fire that was more for atmosphere than warmth in the spring, and gave off whiffs of fresh greenery with every burst of blue-tinted sparks.

  Triska shared his chair, nearly on his lap, and cuddled up against him with his arm wrapped around her. She still had traces of tears on her cheeks and her eyes looked bloodshot and swollen. She flushed bright red and looked away when Mrillis and Ceera came into the room, giving a hint that they had been the topic of conversation recently.

  "There you two are." Endor nodded pleasantly and gave his sister a shake. "Just the people we needed to see."

  "Endor--don't," Triska rasped, and turned even darker red, if that was possible, making her red hair look almost pale gold in contrast.

  Is he forcing our hand? Mrillis wondered.

  Doesn't matter, Ceera responded. "Are you finally going to tell us what's wrong?" She nudged a long bench of willow branches over closer to face the siblings and sat down.

  Mrillis took up his usual position behind her, hands resting on her shoulders. Ceera was going to speak to Triska as Queen to Heir, he sensed, rather than as her elder brother's friend. He chose to visibly place himself as Ceera's supporter, rather than as someone who might be appealed to as an intermediary. From the way Endor raised one eyebrow at their positions, Mrillis knew his friend understood. Whether he took it as an insult, as he and his sisters seemed to take so many things lately, remained to be seen.

  "Triska wants me to explain why you won't bind her to the Zygradon, as your heir. I have to admit, I can't understand it myself. I simply have to take your word for it that you don't know how. Yet." He offered them a brief, too-bright smile.

  Challenge or peace offering? Ceera thought, sharing the conflicting twist of wistfulness and cynicism.

  Neither, I think. He's throwing our words back at us and pretending it doesn't matter.

  Which means it matters more than even he can guess. She sighed and her shoulders slumped a moment. Mrillis felt the tension running through her and lightly squeezed her shoulders to express his support.

  "That about sums it up for all of us," Ceera said slowly. "We only know what we have discovered so far. Those who helped make the Zygradon are bound to it, and only we can see it and touch it, although there are many who can touch it if we help them. We are unsure how this is, how deeply we are bound into the Threads. But deeply enough that when one of us dies, we all feel it, and the Zygradon is affected."

  "All the more reason to bind others to it. The more people there are, the more people to take the impact," Triska said. Her eyes gleamed with tears, her skin had faded to its normal color, and she tried to smile.

  Mrillis had tried to find some resemblance between the girl and Endor, but there was none. All he knew about Triska's mother was that she was pretty. Each of the children of the Nameless One had different mothers, because he slaughtered their mothers at birth, using blood magic to enhance his own powers. What sort of magic he worked on his own newborn children, the elders of the Rey'kil had never been able to decipher. They might never find out u
ntil they had decades to look backwards and untangle the clues.

  At this moment, Mrillis could only feel something like irritation with the girl, and nothing to tie her to his friend. What had Ceera had ever seen in the girl, to appoint her as her heir?

  She has so much potential, Ceera responded to his unvoiced thoughts. She reached up and patted his hand, resting on her shoulder. Just as you and I had so much potential, when we were children.

  She's no longer a child.

  Yes, but it's only been in the last year or two that she's begun her training. Our Lady trained me from the moment I came into her care.

  Into my care, he reminded her.

  Their conversation took only a few seconds.

  "Diluting the impact of the Zygradon's bond is a good theory," Ceera said. "Only time will reveal if it is workable. With something as powerful as the Zygradon, we need to move slowly, cautiously, and ensure that only those with strong minds and hearts are allowed the attempt. Imagine the catastrophe if everyone could access the power of the Zygradon and someone with faulty understanding dismantled everything we had ever done to protect our world?"

  "I should think you'd know by now who was a traitor and who was loyal," Endor said.

  "It's not a matter of loyalty and treachery," Mrillis said. "Look at all we accomplished almost by accident, when we were younger. Suppose those results had been damaging instead of helpful?"

  Triska went pale again and her eyes widened and she looked up at her brother with something like fear. Mrillis felt niggling suspicion settle into the back of his mind, but he couldn't identify what it had come from. He only knew that he was going to pay a little more attention to Triska than he ordinarily would have.

  Of course you will, Ceera responded, and squeezed his hand before releasing it. You will be living here at the Stronghold, instead of spending three-quarters of the year traveling all over the World on errands for the Warhawk and Wynystrys.

  No, you'll be traveling with me, he responded, repressing a grin.

  Either choice sounds delightful, but the fact is, Triska will be with me quite often, because she is my heir. Our Lady devoted most of my life to training me, and I still felt inadequate and unready when she died. I don't want that to happen to Triska.

  Then let's both work together to make her worthy. But you'll excuse me if I hope she never becomes Queen of Snows.

  Live forever? Who would want to?

  "As my heir," Ceera said, and stood up to cross the open space and take hold of the girl's hands, "you will be among the first to be joined to the Zygradon, if that ever becomes possible. Depend on it."

  "There, you see?" Endor gave his sister another affectionate shake. "No one is being unfair."

  "Would I get the chance if I wasn't the heir?" the girl muttered.

  "You mean, would you be denied the chance because of the misfortunate of your parentage?" Ceera said, her voice going sharp. She pressed Triska's hands together between her own. "If we were so narrow-minded as to hold your blood against you, why would you be chosen, and confirmed, as my heir? Why would Endor be entrusted with so much authority and responsibility? I don't know who has been filling your head with lies, my dear, but if I were younger, I think I would slap them quite hard for it and not speak to them again."

  A tiny snort of laughter escaped the girl. She nodded and yanked her hand free to scrub the tears from her eyes.

  That wasn't the whole of it, Mrillis said later, while the chatter and laughter and music flowed around them at dinner in the dining hall.

  No, but I think that was the larger and more pressing concern, Ceera responded after a few moments of thought. Now that that's resolved, I'm sure she'll come to me with the smaller concerns. She sighed and picked up her cup, to stare into the pale pink depths of the watered wine. There have been no signs of the plagues recurring. Do you think it is possible our enemy will have the courtesy of holding off his next attack until after our wedding?

  Chapter Five

  Politics and the need to impress on Rey'kil and Noveni the close alliance between Wynystrys, the Stronghold and the Warhawk made it necessary to hold Ceera and Mrillis' wedding festivities at the Warhawk's fortress. They soon learned that the most powerful people in the alliance were firmly on their side in avoiding as much fuss and ceremony as possible. When the bridal party arrived at the fortress that golden fall day, Afron Warhawk presented Mrillis with two of the finest horses in the royal stables. Queen Elysion whispered something to Ceera that made her laugh, just a short burst that she quickly muffled.

  What is it? Mrillis demanded, as he bowed and formally thanked the High King for the gift.

  She says there's a map tucked into the saddlebag to show us the way to a hidden valley known only to the royal family. It seems we're not the only ones who dread the festival everyone wants to make of our wedding.

  Can I hope we'll have royal help in escaping?

  Ceera whispered to the queen, who pressed her fingertips to her lips to muffle her own laughter. The woman met Mrillis' gaze across the circle of the welcoming party, and nodded.

  Lyon and Athrar were quick to tell Mrillis about the map later, when they accompanied him to the guest rooms he would only use one night. The sympathy evident in the conspiracy to help the guests of honor vanish from the festivities helped Mrillis endure the hours of meetings with Noveni and Rey'kil nobles, warriors and merchants. Everyone wanted to speak with the bride and bridegroom, to snatch a little bit of the blessing custom said enfolded bridal couples before they made their vows. Mrillis wondered sourly if there would be any blessing left for Ceera and him when they could finally settle down to their life as husband and wife.

  Master Breylon claimed the right to stand as Mrillis' father in the ceremony, and Ceera chose all the senior women of Le'esha's ladies, to stand as her mother. Triska proudly stood with Ceera as her heir, and Mrillis nearly asked Endor a dozen times to make sure his sister didn't do or say anything foolish.

  Nainan was a calming influence on everyone, staying in the background and attending to a dozen details at a time. She asked for nothing, no special privileges or treatment, and seemed genuinely happy to simply be there. Her serene expression surprised Mrillis, among all the frantic, irritated and gloating expressions that surrounded the bridal party the evening before the ceremony.

  "I've come to depend on her more than I ever thought I could," Ceera said with a weary little chuckle, when Mrillis expressed his thoughts to her. They had managed to find a quiet, shadowed corner of the feasting hall to take a few semi-private moments. "Remember when she pushed me into the cistern and was such a liar and thief?"

  "How could I forget?" He caught up her hand to kiss her fingertips, just because the gesture always made her blush and squirm just a little bit.

  "Several of the older girls took it on themselves to watch her. Not to punish her every time something went wrong, whether it was her fault or not, but to show her how much easier it was to get along with people when she was considerate. Nainan was more shocked than anyone that they defended her whenever someone accused her of something she didn't do, or a bully tried to hurt her. She's been very quiet the last four or five years, and I thought maybe she was just sulking, but...well, ever since our Lady died, she's been a quiet comfort I never expected. She knows what it's like to hurt so much you want to die and to lash out at the entire world."

  "Do you regret taking Triska as your heir? Maybe Nainan would be the better choice after all?"

  "Nainan doesn't have the discipline. Sometimes I think she doesn't really like magic. I wouldn't blame her, after all she saw their father do." Ceera shook her head. "I'm thinking about making her headwoman of the Stronghold, though. She's turning out to be very good with the littlest ones. They adore her. She makes up wonderful stories, did you know?"

  "No. Endor never said."

  "Hmm. Well, I think he's decided to ignore Nainan, just because Triska is more talented and powerful." She sighed and tipped her head to rest a
gainst his arm. "Sometimes I wonder if I hurt Triska by making her my heir."

  "There's time to fix the error." He pressed her little hand against his heart and silently said a prayer of thanks that the Rey'kil were so long-lived. Two hundred years with Ceera wouldn't be enough.

  * * * *

  The pre-eminent Star-mother of all the dedicated servants of the Estall led Ceera and Mrillis through their vows. A Rey'kil woman old enough to have known Le'esha and Breylon's parents, she rode out to the meadow where the ceremony took place, in a chair carried on the shoulders of four Noveni soldiers, chosen from the finest warriors under the Warhawk's command. She needed help standing on the circular platform built specifically for the ceremony, and Breylon and the Warhawk shared the honor of supporting her, their arms bent to let her frail hands rest on them. During the long walk through the crowds to join Ceera at the platform, Mrillis viewed the woman through his imbrose, and wasn't surprised to see the multiple strands of blue and white Threads that surrounded her, a solid nimbus of power. He waited until he stepped up onto the platform and met Ceera in the middle, with their attendants standing around the perimeter of the platform, then silently directed her attention to the frail little woman, with her glowing white hair, dusky skin and eyes gone white and sightless with age.

  Sometimes there is so much of the Estall working through us, our bodies go threadbare from the strain, she responded after a moment, while the Star-mother pressed their hands together, Mrillis' palms facing up and Ceera's palms facing down. Do you know, I think I'm frightened now?

  Of what? He resisted the urge to wrap his fingers around her wrists, while the Star-mother wrapped multi-colored silken cords around their hands, from wrists to fingertips and back to their wrists.

  I wish we were more ordinary, so the whole world doesn't watch us, expecting more wonders and miracles. Someday they will demand we find a way to destroy star-metal before it touches the skies of our world. Someday they will demand we destroy death.

 

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