by Robert Adams
“Oh, yes, my dearest one, I think that those were the last truly happy years of my long, long life. Those precious years when you and your little children lived with me In Kehnooryos Atheenahs.”
“I had not relived so far yet, my lady. I was still in New Kuhmbuhluhn with Prince Byruhn, the Kleesahk and . . . and my Rahksahnah.”
“Yeeesss . . . ?” Acid dripped from her beaming. “It is interesting that the near-final thoughts of a man I — Aldora Linsze Treeah-Pohtohmas-Pahpahs, the Undying High Lady of the Confederation and the Sea Isles — honored with my love and favor for most of his life, should be of a manhating, half-Ahrmehnee slut he knew but for . . . how short a time was it, Prince Morguhn?”
“My lady, my lady,” Bili tiredly remonstrated, as often before in the long, long ago, “even when I told her of you, of what you and I had together shared, Rahksahnah never resented you, nor did she ever speak ill of you. Why then do you still so resent and vilify a long-dead woman whom you never even met during her lifetime? Why, my lady?”
There was a note of repentance, of regret, in her next beaming. “Why, Bili? Do you not know why? You should, for great age truly imparts great wisdom . . . which old saw I tend to doubt, and on far better grounds than most could produce.
Because I love you, Bili. Because frustrated women become bitchy, and I have nurtured my love and harbored my frustration for more than three score years. Because that nasty mixture of love and frustration, that unbearable turgidity that my soul became when I finally faced the fact that soon or late I would lose, would be forever denied him that I so loved . . . so love, even now . . . seems to find and enjoy its fullest release by striking hurtfully at my very love through one that I know he loved, then lost.
“Dear, sweet Bili, I truly, truly am sorry for what I said. I do not — have never done so — hate your Rahksahnah or resent her. May Wind grant her repose in His Home. . . . I right often wish truly that I might soon be vouchsafed the sweet blessing of death, that we three — I and you and your Rahksahnah, too — might ride the endless plains of the Home of Wind. I could even share you, my Bili, did I but know that we would never be parted, that the one could never outlive the other for the rest of eternity.
“And when I dream again those happy, hopeless dreams, I think that the old Ehleen blackrobes were right, even more right than they could have imagined. We Undying are cursed — really and truly cursed, though not in the way those vultures meant the term — to live endless years without one to love, that is the curse, Bili, to be fearful of allowing oneself to bestow love as Nature intended it be bestowed, that is both foul curse and eternal damnation.
“Within bare weeks of our first meeting, Bili, I had come to love you far more deeply than ever before I had loved any man — and I was older than you now are, even then. Milo saw it, knew it for the soul-deep love that it was and tried to warn me of the certain agonies it would surely breed; and I knew deep within me that he was right, too, but who ever could argue an effective case against so powerful an emotion as love?
“When I could not raise your mind, could not farspeak you for so long a time, while you were in New Kuhmbuhluhn, I was forced to reluctantly agree with the majority opinion, that you were dead; and, although my grief was almost insupportable, I could still not help feeling in a way relieved, relieved that your untimely death had thus ended something harmful to me that I would not have been able to muster the courage, the resolution, to end finally and for all time while still you lived.
“But then, love, when I had almost recovered and had already set about seducing Drehkos, one of my own, cursed kind, you reappeared; riding your big, black horse out of the unknown and back into my life. That Bili was not the same as he who rode into those unmapped lands; the Bili who rode out was far older and wiser than his years, aged and altered by care and suffering. But that love that I so prized and so feared did not recognize or care, rather did it spring in a bare moment into full and vibrant blossom, like some lovely, magical, but dreaded flower.
“And that old, old flower is in full blossom still, my dearest, although its cruel thorns have raked and torn my heart each day and night of the forty years since last I saw you, touched you . . . kissed you. Oh, dear Bili, did you not ever wonder why I have mindspokon you occasionally, yet never have come near to you, have indeed so arranged my travels that we two never would be in the same place at the same time?”
“I knew, my lady, I knew why,” Bili answered gently. “The Lady Mara once tried to tell me why, so too did Tim and Gil, but they could sense in my mind that there was no reason, that I knew . . . and understood, for I have never ceased to love you, my lady, or to miss your dear self beside me, by day and by night, and I too have often wished that we might grow old together and, finally, go to Wind together. But wishing will not, cannot make it come to pass.
“Yes, my lady, life and the forces that serve to shape it have treated us two and the love we shared most cruelly. But then that is the way of life and our world, Aldora. It is rare that they treat love or lovers kindly, be those lovers Undying or mortals.
“But, my love, you must not speak of, think of, ending your life prematurely, for this great Confederation of ours, its tens of thousands of folk, depend in many ways upon you and your countless talents.”
“But . . . but, Bili, you are . . . are dying, they all say. It has been hard enough to bear when you were but a day’s ride distant, when I could, if I wished, mindspeak with you. Oh, my dear love, how can I live on the endless, empty years with you gone forever?”
“You will live one day after the other, Aldora, and someday, somehow, somewhere, Nature will compensate your loss — though you may not immediately recognize that compensation for what it really is. This is fact, not speculation, my love, I know of my own experiences. You are being robbed of but one love, Aldora, but think you back — I have been denied every woman I ever loved, by death or by unalterable circumstance.
“I, too, have suffered, Aldora, for the most part of what has been a very long life . . . for a mortal man. Suicide would have been easy for me, for I do not fear death. Right often over the years have I contemplated or even fondled some dirk or dagger of mine, absently weighing the slight and fleeting bite of the steel against the long, dull suffering it would so quickly assuage, erase forever.
“But then, always, have I recalled my duties, my many responsibilities to my overlords and the Confederation, to the folk I rule and administer, to my clan and house. So I always have sheathed the bright, sharp steel and forgotten it in the press of everyday affairs. So must you put aside your disloyal, selfish thoughts, Aldora, remembering instead your duties and all those — many of them still unborn — who depend and will depend upon you.”
Then he asked, “Are you here, love, in my palace?”
There was infinite sadness and a touch of shame in her beaming. “No, my Bili, no. I am far north and west, with the army, in the southerly reaches of what used to be the Kingdom of Ohyoh, years back. I . . . I could not force myself to come to your . . . your death, Bili. I would . . . I must remember you as . . . as you were when last we met . . . and loved. So I sent Tim, instead; he might even be there by now, if he was blessed with dry roads and no delays.”
“Then, are we to converse more while still we can, Aldora, you must range me again in a few hours. The pain is returning, stronger this time. I must mindcall the physician, and you will not be able to get through to my mind while his drugs are in full effect. I regret this necessity, my dear, but this pain is more than I can endure.”
* * *
“So, you see, Tim,” said Milo, “although it will probably mean I’ll have to take your place with the army in the field, for however long it takes us to find and groom a new prince, it is imperative that Karaleenos in particular remain under a firm, strong hand after Bili’s death. Aldora is a superlative tactician, especially of cavalry, but she had never been a talented strategist, as you are by now aware. Drehkos is much like her in that respect. Also, I don’t kn
ow how this Confederation of ours would get along without him administering its affairs from Theesispolis.
“Mara is a good fighter, as too are Gil and Neeka, but none of them has ever shown any military command potential. So you must stay here, in Karaleenos, for a while and I must go back into active campaigning, in the west, for the same amount of time. That’s just the way the stick floats, Tim.”
“And what of me?” demanded Gil. “Can I stay here, with Tim, or must I go back up to Theesispolis?”
Milo smiled. “Do whichever you wish, Gil. Neeka goes west with me, but I’m certain Drehkos and Mara can fumble along without the two of you for a while. If they should need help for some reason or other, you’re not very far from the capital, here. Besides, if you’re here with him, there’ll certainly be a bit less fast and frequent traffic on the roads between here and Theesispolis.”
Tim and Gil, sitting each with an arm about the well-loved other and hands clasped tightly, looked and radiated their pleasure at the arrangement. But Neeka’s sloe-black eyes regarded Milo with a look compounded of trouble, unease and hurt.
* * *
A little later, when Tim and Gil had departed the tower chamber that Tim might bathe, sleep and restore himself after his long, hard journey, Neeka asked, softly. “Why are you taking me west with you. Milo? Is it because you truly want me near to you? Or is it really because you still distrust me?”
Milo drank from his silver goblet, regarding the saturnine beauty over the chased rim, with a look of mockery and mirth.
“Distrust you?” he mindspoke, on a level which very few anywhere in the Confederation could have intercepted. “Of course not, girl, you’re being silly. I did at one time, twenty years or so back, and with good cause, you must admit. But when once we’d delved the furthest corners of your mind, gotten to and first explored, then thwarted or prepared for our own use all of those subconscious guides and instructions that those devilish Witchmen had implanted, there was no longer any slightest reason to distrust you.
“No, pet, I’m taking you with me for the simplest and the most basic of reasons: still, after nearly a half century, do I lust after that fine, ripe body of yours. Campaigning in those mountains is no fun, especially for a commander. Aldora is certain to have chosen herself a lover or five from among her officers, for as rank hath its responsibilities, rank also hath its privileges. Moon Maidens are just not to my rather discriminating tastes — too skinny and muscular and flat-chested, most of them. So why not take along a woman who does suit my fancy, eh?”
Neeka treated him to a sidelong gaze and a quick half-smile, which fleeted across her full, dark-red lips, then was gone. Picking absorbedly at the gold-thread embroidery of her garments, she mindspoke on the same vastly advanced level. Of all the Undying — Mio, Mara, Aldora, Drebkos, Tim and Gil — only Neeka, Aldora, Milo and one mortal man, who now lay dying in this very palace, had ever been able to attain the use of that level of communication.
“Naturally, I’m flattered, Milo. What seventy-odd-year-old woman wouldn’t be? And while I know I would be very happy there, with you, still I think it best that I stay in the capital, or at least somewhere here in the east.”
His brows elevated sharply. “Why, Neeka? Have you, then, tired of this exceedingly ancient one as a lover?”
She flushed, then smiled. “I’ll make a note to remind you of that question whenever we two get a chance to bed together again. No, that’s not it at all, and if I thought your doubt serious, I’d feel deeply hurt, Milo.
“No, rather it’s that damned Aldora; she hates me, always has, and makes no secret of it in any company or none. I feel certain that she would prefer to see me dead, did she think she could get away with it.”
“You fear her, then, Neeka?” asked Milo.
“Not really, no. I used to, but not anymore. It’s just that I know that if I go with you, she will make us both miserable until I come back here; just as she did Tim and Gil, until Gil stopped campaigning with Tim. It seems she hates Gil, too.”
Mio sighed and set down his goblet. “Neeka, Aldora hates any woman who seems happy, not just you and Gil and Mara, but mortal women, too. Although she is extremely promiscuous — openly and deliberately — she has never loved deeply but three times in all her years. One of those men was her adoptive father, the chief who led Clan Linszee to Ehlai when the Horseclans came to Kehnooryos Ehlas, and he has been dead over a century; the other mortal she loved is this same Prince Bili, who now lies dying, downstairs; the third is me, but I never have reciprocated her passion, and she has long since given up trying to arouse any in me.
“But she still craves, must have, my approval, it seems. When I threatened to have her forcibly ejected from the Confederation proper, threatened to force her to either live on the Pirate Archipelago or leave this part of the world altogether, after she made a nearly successful attempt to drown Mara, some sixty-odd years back, she and I came to an understanding of sorts. That understanding still holds between me and Aldora, Neeka.
“So if we — you and I — campaign together, Aldora will be the very proper co-commander. Not that she’ll desist of her hate and her envy of you; that would be just too much to ask of her. But she’ll not make open display of it, for she fears to anger me. She knows that her soul needs my support, even if it can never have my love.”
One of Milo’s bodyguards knocked, then entered at the summons. “Lord Milo, Lady Neeka, the Zahrtohgahn, Master Ahkmehd, craves audience; he waits beyond the door.”
The slight, deeply wrinkled; dark-brown man who entered the portal held open for him by the bodyguard knew both Milo and Neeka of old. He had served several years in Theesispolis before becoming Prince Bili’s personal physician and trusted friend nearly forty years before. Milo arose to clasp the pink-palmed hand warmly, then assisted the aged Zahrtohgahn to a seat on one of the couches.
Then the High Lord said, “I’m afraid that there’s nothing to drink here that your religion will allow you, master.”
The dark-skinned old man showed worn yellow teeth in a hint of a smile. “Thank you, my lord, it does not matter; I drink little save herb teas, anyway, these last few years. Nor do most foods any longer attract me. I only eat because I know that my body requires the sustenance.
“I come to you because you wished to know of aught of an unusual nature concerning poor old Bili . . . the prince, that is. I have but just come from him.”
“And . . . ?” inquired Milo.
“I have been using a combination of drugs and hypnotism to relieve him of his agonies, while my apprentice and I seek and search and experiment in thus-far-vain attempts to come up with something, some combination, that might possibly halt these hideous infections and possibly grant my old friend down there a few more years of life.
“Because of the hypnosis, I have been able to graduate the levels of the drugs slowly, thus keeping him comfortable without endangering his life with the drugs themselves — some of them are deadly poisons, you know, in the proper combinations or proportions.
“I had dosed him again and reinforced the hypnosis a bit after dawn, which should have kept him in comfort through the most of this day. But someone, someone with a very high level of mindspeak ability, intruded into his mind and dispelled the soothing web I had woven there. In his pain, he mind-called me, and I have just had to redo my work. Worse, I have had to administer more drugs.
“Can my lord see to it that this happens not again? I say not, with any certainty, that any decoction Ohmahr and I may devise will or can save Lord Bili’s life, but while still he lives there is at least the bare chance.”
Milo fiercely cracked his knuckles, cold anger on his face and in his voice. “You’re damned right I’ll see that it happens not again, Master Ahkmehd! Did you . . . were you able to get from Bili the name of the person responsible this time?”
The elderly man sighed and spread his hands — withered, in appearance like the rest of his body, but still as strong and as sure as
those of the apprentice who was nearly fifty years his junior. “There were two names tumbling over and over in his mind and his speech, Lord Milo. Rahksahnah — that was one of them.”
The High Lord shook his bead. “No, that was the name of Bili’s first wife. She’s long dead. “What was the other?”
“Aldora, my lord. I presume he meant the High Lady . . . but she is not here in the palace, not that I know of, anyway. One of the High Lord Tim’s guards mentioned to someone that the Illustrious Lady Aldora was far and far to the north, with the Army of the Confederation. Has she the power to do so much at such a distance, Lord Milo?”
Milo grimaced. “That much and more, master. But I’ll warn her off, never fear. When you leave, tell my guards to send the prairiecats that came with me up here to me; with the aid of their minds, I can range Aldora. She has no right to kill Bili with her selfishness.
“I know what she must be suffering, for she has loved him — deeply and truly — for more than seventy years. But she is not the only one put out by this tragedy, Bili the Axe was a most unusual man, we’ll all miss him sorely, and I doubt that we’ll ever find again such a man to hold Karaleenos for us, for the Confederation.”
About The Author
ROBERT ADAMS lives in Richmond, Virginia. Like the characters in his books, he is partial to fencing and fancy swordplay, hunting and riding, good food and drink. And when he is not hard at work on his next science fiction novel, Robert may be found slaving over a hot forge to make a new sword or busily reconstructing a historically accurate military costume.
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OUT OF THE JAWS OF DESTRUCTION
When the Witchmen caused the earth to move and called forth the fires from the mountains inner depths, the Moon Maidens, Ahrmehnee, and Thoheeks Bili’s troops barely escaped with their lives. Driven by the flames into territory said to be peopled by monstrous half-humans, Bili was forced to choose between braving the dangers of nature gone mad or lighting the savage natives on their own ground. But before he could decide, his troops were spotted by the beings who claimed this eerie land as their own and would use powerful spells of magic and illusion to send any intruders to their doom . . .
