Heart of the Dove

by Tina St. John

  No answer came.

  Serena slid off her horse and came up next to Rand in the doorway. "Mother!" she cried into the lightless chamber. She spun around, looking toward the darkened woods. "Calandra, where are you?"

  But Serena was fairly certain she knew where to find her.

  "The falls," she said.

  With the two men close behind, she dashed for the little trail that would take them to the woodland cascade.

  Calandra was there, seated at the edge of the cascade pool, her hair and clothing damp. Beside her was a sodden pouch, its contents partially spilled out onto the ground. Coins of varying sizes winked in the scant light, a veritable fortune, to be sure. Calandra must have been hoarding it for years, Serena guessed, astonished to discover it.

  But the thought of unexpected earthly wealth paled next to Calandra herself, who sat very still on the flat slabs of granite, cradling an object in her lap. Serena approached her cautiously, sensing at once that something was very wrong.

  "Mother," she said gently.

  Even though her mind rejected it as untrue, Calandra was the only mother Serena had ever had. She was all the family she knew, and seeing her look so small, so withdrawn, squeezed her heart.

  "Mother, it's me. I've come back for you."

  Calandra slowly turned her head. She had been weeping. The moonlight was dim, but Serena could see the wet trails down the elder woman's cheeks, her bright blue eyes puffy and sad.

  "What is it? Are you unwell?"

  "Yes, child," she answered softly. "I am unwell. I am weary. So very weary."

  Serena knelt down next to her on the cool stone. She saw the glint of gold in Calandra's lap and some of her breath left her on a gasp. "You did have part of the Chalice."

  Calandra blinked slowly, then turned a wistful gaze back to the veil of the falls. "Do you know what lies on the other side of that water? A very long time ago, I was a foolish young girl who made a very grave mistake. Everything I once loved is on the other side of this waterfall, except for you, Serena. You are my joy here."

  "The Chalice," Serena said again, aware of both Rand and les Nantres drawing near enough to see it as well. Clutched in the talons of the golden dragon stem was a stone of frosty blue. It reflected the moonglow, illuminating Calandra's sad expression. "Mother, how long have you had this? Where did you keep it--here in the cascade pool?"

  Calandra gave a mild nod. "I knew he would not rest until he restored the Chalice. He was too mad to have it back. It was all he talked of, all he thought of. I had given him a gift, you see. And it could not be taken away from him. He would live forever, like me, and he would not rest until he possessed the Chalice again. I had to stop him somehow. I thought, if I could find just one piece of the treasure and hide it away, the Chalice would never be complete."

  "Where did you find this?" Serena asked, bending forward to carefully remove the treasure from Calandra's slack fingers.

  "A priest came through here...it was many, many years ago. He was from the north, a Scotsman. He said he thought me troubled. Mayhap I was. He told me of a small chapel across the marches, where pilgrims found peace and cures for their torments. He said I should go there, so I did. When I found this cup beneath the stones of the chapel well, I realized that perhaps there was a way for me to undo some of the ill I'd done to my kingdom. I could keep this cup out of Silas's reach for as long as I lived." Calandra laughed softly, ironically. "Do you know, that priest was right? After I visited his chapel, I did find some peace."

  "The Stone of Peace," Serena replied. She pivoted and handed the cup to Rand.

  "Serasaar," Calandra confirmed, her voice reverent with the Anavrin name. "But then, not a fortnight ago, another man arrived here and my tranquility was gone. He brought the Outside with him, and two more parts of the Chalice treasure. That was too much power to hide away. That would surely bring Silas around in time."

  "De Mortaine is coming now," les Nantres remarked grimly. "We've got trouble on the way, and riding hard."

  Above the roar of the falls could now be heard the shouts of men and the crack of blades chewing through dense thicket.

  "The cup," Rand said to him, his voice harsh with urgency. In his hand, Serasaar's pale blue stone had begun to glow, getting stronger. "Hand it over, Draec. Now!"

  The mercenary threw him a mistrusting look.

  "The cup, damn it!"

  Les Nantres opened the leather satchel and withdrew the goblet containing Calasaar and Vorimasaar. It, too, was imbued with otherworldly light.

  "Christ," he hissed, nearly dropping it. "The damned thing is pulsing. What is this? It feels alive in my hand."

  "Bring it," Rand commanded.

  As Draec came toward him, the cups they held sparked blinding light, throwing off rays brighter even than the sun. Serena shielded her eyes, turning her face into Calandra's shoulder. But the magic taking place was too extraordinary; she could not look away completely.

  She could see Rand's strong arm shaking under the force of the Chalice's power. Les Nantres's as well. The light grew stronger. Neither strong warrior seemed able to control the will of the magic in their hands. The two pieces of the Dragon Chalice came together in a fierce, soundless crash. At once, a wave of incredible force blasted out in all directions, thumping in Serena's chest and ears, sending her hair flying as though caught in a gale.

  It passed just as quickly, sucking the surrounding air back to the place where a single golden cup now lay in the grass between Rand and Draec les Nantres.

  Serena felt Calandra stir, then slip out of her embrace. Before either man could move to retrieve the newly formed Chalice, Calandra had scooped it up.

  And when she turned to carry it away, Silas de Mortaine and three shifter guards emerged from out of the forest to stand directly in her path.

  * * *

  "Why, Calandra," Silas snarled. "It has been a while."

  He gave her no time to react. With a punishing swing of his arm, de Mortaine struck the woman hard across her face. She flew to the ground, her head narrowly missing the sharp edge of a jutting slab of granite. The cup rolled out of her hands.

  Rand lunged for it, but was brought up short by a length of shifter steel at his neck. In the periphery of his vision he saw that les Nantres had met with like greeting, scarcely able to draw his sword in defense. Silas's shifter guards made no move to retrieve the fallen Chalice; they would not, for none of the three wished to burn for touching the forbidden gold of the treasure they were bred to protect. The third shifter had apprehended both Serena and Calandra, one in each bruising hand, as he held them to face Silas de Mortaine.

  "She has your eyes, Calandra," he remarked, casually strolling to where the Chalice lay on the ground. He picked it up, then pivoted back to the women. "She has your streak of stupidity as well. Did you really think you could elude me, girl?"

  "Please, Silas," Calandra said, nary a trace of weariness in her voice now. "Let her go. She had naught to do with this. If you are angry, blame me."

  "Oh, I do, Calandra. I most assuredly do blame you. And I'll see that you pay."

  A fine white horse stood just inside the tree line, frothing from the ruthless run Silas had forced on it. De Mortaine walked there now, with the Chalice in hand. Rand could see that he struggled to hold it, and as he neared a bulging saddle pack, the three stones in the newly merged cup began to glow. Rand watched in seething fury as Silas withdrew the last of the four pieces.

  "Jesu--we have to stop him!" Rand shouted, bucking forward, but he was held in check by the shifter guarding him.

  De Mortaine turned to face them. "Behold, a new dawn!" he crowed, his eyes wild, his golden hair standing nearly on end as he held the two cups out at his sides. He tried to fight the pull of the Chalice's magic, laughing maniacally. Then with a shout of victory, he brought his hands together before him.

  Rand expected another blinding explosion of light and bone-jarring, otherworldly power. This time, as the last of the Dragon
Chalice merged into the whole, there was light, but it was a climbing spiral of pure color and heat. The power was there as well, spreading out to all who stood in the glade. It lifted the hairs on Rand's arms and scalp. It passed through him like fingers of some unseen being. It was beautiful, this power of the four.

  Even de Mortaine seemed awestruck...for a moment.

  "By the blood of Christ," he murmured, staring at the treasure in his hands. "I had forgotten what this felt like." He glanced to the pool of crystalline water behind him. "I will never forget what a drink from this cup tastes like, however. And long have I waited to taste it again."

  "The Chalice gave you life once," Calandra said, interrupting his gloating delight. "It can give you nothing more."

  "You expect me to believe you?"

  "It is the truth."

  "The truth," he scoffed, looking at her with open derision. "You would say anything to keep me from claiming my destiny--what is mine by rights!"

  Smiling now, de Mortaine strode briskly to the edge of the cascade pool. He crouched down, dipped the shimmering Chalice into the water and lifted it high into the air for all of them to see.

  "No!" Rand roared, a futile demand when the threatening edge of shifter steel still pressed meaningfully at his neck.

  Silas de Mortaine laughed thinly. "This cup is mine. All its riches--all of Anavrin's awaiting power--mine at last!"

  With that, he brought the Dragon Chalice to his lips and let it pour down his throat.

  Chapter 30

  Never had Silas tasted anything so sweet. He had waited so long for this moment--his ultimate triumph. He was deserving of this greatness. By God, he was due.

  He closed his eyes and savored each drop of the cool water that poured down his throat from the glittering, golden bowl of the Dragon Chalice. He felt it rush into his body, seeping into every sinew and bone, refreshing and sweet, so full of power.

  All his. His destiny was at last fulfilled.

  He would be king of this world and the next!

  It was not until he lifted his heavy lids that he realized something was amiss.

  His gaze settled on Calandra, on the clear blue eyes that peered at him through the chaos of the glade. She was smiling, content in her own private triumph as he brought the Chalice down from his lips.

  The first sharp jolt stunned him.

  Pain unlike any he had known ripped through his abdomen. His insides were on fire. Silas dropped to his knees on the grassy floor of the clearing, his breath robbed from his lungs. It was happening so fast.

  Calandra's smile widened to a beatific, ageless grin.

  "It can give you nothing more," she said, her promise again, only now he knew it for a woeful truth. Calandra's gaze was bright, never more entrancing than in her present fury.

  "You--bitch!"

  The words sprayed out of his mouth on a gasp of thick spittle. Silas held his stomach, which felt as if it were being rent asunder from within. He glanced down and saw that his fine silk tunic and mantle were turning a deep crimson, his blood soaking the white silk from an unseen wound in his torso. The stain grew and grew, and he realized he had, in fact, known a similar anguish once before.

  The very day Calandra had found him, stabbed from some transgression he no longer recalled, bleeding to death right here at this very cascade. He would have died if not for the drink she gave him from the Chalice.

  Now he was once more, again.

  Calandra laughed, content in his misery. "One sip from the Chalice to restore you...another to take it back."

  Silas could no longer hold his own weight. The wound sapped him of his strength, but there was something more happening now. His skin was turning gray, wrinkling before his eyes. Shriveling. He cried out in horror as his fingers curled into stiff, ancient claws, his voice going rusty with the sudden onslaught of age. All the years the Chalice had given him were now stripping away, one after the other, faster and faster.

  As death latched onto him and dust began to fill his mouth and eyes, Silas managed one final order.

  "Kill them! Kill them all!"

  * * *

  The glade erupted in chaos on Silas's dying words.

  The sword at Rand's throat bit hard into his flesh, just a small twitch of shifter muscle away from ending him then and there. As the blade moved, so did Rand. He tucked his fist into his chest and with a sharp jerk of his elbow, caught the shifter in the gut. A cough of sour breath wheezed past his ear--momentary reprieve from the pressure of cold steel at his neck.

  With a roar, Rand snapped his head back, connecting with the shifter's close face. There was a crack of bone and cartilage, and the grip on him went slack for an instant. Rand seized his chance. He spun around, wrenching free the blade that bore the crimson tinge of his own blood on its length. He flipped it around, then drove it home with a curse, impaling the shifter in one swift blow.

  "Serena!" he shouted, free to help her now and immediately looking to assess her position.

  She and Calandra were trying to fight off the guard who held them, Serena struggling to pry away the cruel fingers that twisted Calandra's arm until she dropped, screaming, to her knees. Calandra kicked and scratched and gnashed her teeth, goading the shifter into giving her the worst of his animal rage. The beast began to change under the women's continued assault. Its shaggy head grew more bristly, its mouth stretching snout-like, black lips peeling back over sharp, wolfish jaws.

  "Jesu. Serena! Calandra!"

  Rand leaped over the body of the shifter he had slain, sword raised, poised for attack. He brought the steel down on the beast's shoulder, recoiling as blood sprayed out from the wound. The shifter howled in anguish, and as it pivoted to face him--half man, half slavering wolf--it knocked Calandra aside with a furious swipe of its huge hand. The black talons sliced through her gown, ripping four long, bloody tracks across her stomach.

  "Mother!" Serena cried, horror widening her eyes.

  The shifter threw her down next to Calandra, its sights now fixed on bigger game. It stalked toward Rand with murder in its eyes.

  Rand motioned the inhuman warrior to him. "Come on, cur. I'm ready for you."

  The shifter leaped on him. Rand delivered one glancing blow of his sword before he was knocked to the ground. Deadly teeth snapped too close to his face, tearing his flesh. Animal claws held him like prey as the shifter rolled him over rough ground and into the thorny bracken nearby. Rand punched the terrible face above him, again and again, until his fist was slick with blood and spittle.

  In periphery, he noted that les Nantres had his own hands full with the guard who held him. The mercenary was bloodied and panting, but giving as good as he was getting. In another time, on another field of battle, Rand might have been glad to have a warrior like Draec les Nantres at his side. He fought like a demon--all for the Dragon Chalice. But this hour had come down to just one thing in Rand's mind: protecting Serena.

  Which was why, when he saw her scramble to retrieve the golden cup from the pile of ash that had once been Silas de Mortaine, Rand knew a bone-deep, sudden dread. She held it out before her like a weapon as she carried it toward the place where Rand and the shifter thrashed.

  "Serena, do not!" he yelled at her. "Stay away!"

  But he could see the ferocity in her smooth gait. Her aqua eyes had darkened to a stormy shade of determination. She came closer, and while the shifter bent its head to attack Rand again, Serena ran up behind it and pressed the Dragon Chalice to its spine.

  A howl unlike anything Rand had heard before went up into the night sky.

  Flesh hissed beneath the powerful touch of the Chalice, emitting foul smoke. The shifter recoiled at once, rearing up in agony. His animal face spasmed between forms--wolf to man to wolf again--as he reached behind him, trying to beat at the fire that was eating him alive.

  To Rand's relief, Serena was well out of reach. She retreated with the Chalice back to where Calandra lay near the edge of the cascade pool, while Rand sprang at
once to action. He came up off the ground, bringing his weapon with him. One efficient, killing blow, and the beast's terrible wailing ceased.

  Not a few yards away, les Nantres had just ended the last shifter's life as well. He gave Rand a reckless shrug, his grin still arrogant even through a mouthful of blood. The dark knight limped forward, haggard and wheezing, looking like death itself.

  "Oh, God!" Serena cried, racing into Rand's waiting arms. "I was so frightened. Are you hurt? You're bleeding!"

  Rand gathered her close and held her to him, never so glad as he was to hear her little heart beating hard against his chest. He wanted to scold her for putting herself in harm's way, but he had no words. All he had was tender kisses, and a fierce need to never let her go.

  He did not know what made him look up at that moment. Perhaps it was the thundering rush of the falls, or the slow fade of night overhead as dawn began to wake and rise. But when Rand lifted his head and saw Calandra, some of his peace fled on a hushed oath.

  "Serena, love," he gently whispered into her glossy hair.

  But she already knew. Her hands on him, her touch surely told her what he was witnessing.

  Serena came out of his embrace, her gaze already tear-filled and turning toward the cascade pool. Calandra slumped at the edge of it, the Dragon Chalice tipped on its side in her lap, wetting the front of her gown. Her chin dripped water from the deadly drink she had just ingested.

  "Mother?" Serena cried, her voice thick with emotion. "Oh, no. No!"

  * * *

  Serena felt as though she walked on wooden legs as she neared the place where Calandra--nay, she was her mother, in all ways that mattered--lay so small and quiet on the hard rock slabs that edged the cascade pool.

  Serena knelt down beside her and lifted Calandra's hand into hers. A flood of sorrow filled her, but that emotion was hers alone. The Knowing showed her only weariness, and placid acceptance in Calandra's long-immortal heart.