Chosen

by Jolea M. Harrison

  The man didn’t move. Another step toward him and a second later, Dynan realized he wouldn’t ever. He was dead.

  He put his sword down on the stair, not especially wanting to tell his sister she was looking at a corpse. Explaining it to her wasn’t much fun since she didn’t believe him.

  “He’s dead, Shalis,” Dynan repeated. “He can’t hurt me. Listen, I want you to stay here.”

  “Shouldn’t he be a skeleton,” Liselle said, bending sideways to peer under the man’s hood. She was right too, which meant he was only recently dead. His hands, the only part they could see of him, seemed only old; the wrinkled skin of an elder. Dynan didn’t expect any of the bodies to have skin at all. He thought too much time would have gone by.

  He had to sit down. The cold was deeper than before. He couldn’t feel his hands anymore and his face was frozen. Shalis was shivering.

  “Well, how are we going to get in?”

  “We aren’t. I’m going to get in and you’re going to stay here,” Dynan said. “Please, Shalis?”

  “I don’t want to sit out here with him,” she said and then wrinkled her nose. “I thought they were supposed to smell.”

  “What?”

  “Dead people. Everyone says they smell bad. He doesn’t smell at all. Why is he here anyway?”

  “I don’t know, but you’re waiting out here,” Dynan said and glanced at Liselle to let her know she’d be waiting too.

  He looked at the old man hunched in the corner and a thought occurred to him. Bremen Telaerin had disappeared without a trace too. It made sense he would come here to be with his family at the end of his life. It didn’t seem possible a man nearly a thousand years dead could have skin, but then Dynan thought of the preserving effect of perpetual cold. And it was unnaturally cold.

  “Don’t touch him,” Dynan said to his sister.

  “Why would I want to do that? You are so gross.”

  He pushed to his feet, seeing clearly a woman activating the mechanism that would open the doors. He moved to the stone where he thought the trigger was, and pushed on one corner the same way she had. The stone slid back out of the way. Inside was a lever, but he didn’t pull it right away, taking a moment to look up from the height of the doors to the stone above.

  “Go back up the stairs a little and get under the archway,” he said. “Just in case the ceiling decides to come down.”

  “And what are you going to do?” Shalis said.

  “Run.”

  She made a derogatory sound. “You can barely walk,” she muttered, but she climbed the stairs, looking up into the dark as she went. “I think I hear them.”

  Dynan nodded. He could tell Dain was getting closer. Dynan reached into the niche in the stone and pulled the lever. A distant hum reached them and the big doors started to grind open. The next instant though, the hum faded and the doors stopped moving. They stood open hardly enough for anyone to fit through.

  There were light brackets on the wall and Dynan took one of them down. He took a couple extra power cells from Liselle’s lamp. They worked in the ancient one, which told him how little the technology had changed in all that time, and gave them extra light.

  The door was barely open, but it was enough. Dynan told Shalis to stay one more time, and slipped inside.

  The light was just strong enough to show him what he already knew. Dynan saw her, slumped against the wall near the door, holding her children to her, the two boys and the girl, trying to protect them to the last, Fadril Telaerin, the First Queen of Cobalt.

  Like her son sitting on the other side of the door, their bodies were preserved in the bitter cold with hardly any sign of the tremendous age they’d remained here. She looked just as she did standing at the foot of a rocky hill, waiting for Dynan to come down, and just as she did kneeling in a green glade, gathering her children into her arms.

  Dynan knelt down beside her, careful not to disturb anything, looking at a face completely familiar to him. He saw her talking to him, leading him through a terrible land to a terrible place, but that went away almost as he thought it, melting to a land of peace. He saw his mother with her, closing another gap in his memory.

  He saw it and beyond the pounding headache that threatened to bring tears to his eyes, he remembered. The body nearest Fadril was the man Dynan had just finished writing about, the leather sack he carried giving him away, along with the sword in his hand. Polen Forb lay on his back, his arms out to either side. His eyes were closed and his face at peace, looking only as if he were asleep. Dynan knew him.

  He knew Faulkin Yeld, who was next, curled on one side, the brown vest he always wore preserved along with him. Grint Heddly still had the yellow scarf wrapped around his neck. Both men held weapons tightly in hand.

  Farthest from the door and his wife, the body of Alurn rested in the center of the oblong room, lying on his side. The crown of the First King was at a slant against a small rock on the floor, fallen from his head in battle. He looked the same. He looked like Adiem.

  Dynan stood, and moved to Alurn, looking around the room for the body of his brother, who had died here too. He heard Fadril telling him that Adiem wouldn’t come here. Dynan put a hand to his head, pressing in on his eye and against the pain that exploded behind it. The room spun.

  “Dynan?”

  Liselle came in, looking first to where Fadril sat near the door, gasping at the sight of her and the children. She made her way carefully across the Temple, avoiding the dead to reach him.

  “Are you all right?” she asked. “You’ve been in here a while. Dynan?”

  “I’m fine,” he said when he wasn’t and she didn’t believe him, reaching up to wipe away the moisture on his face.

  “I don’t think so,” she said, and then slipped her arm around him. “You should come out.”

  “I’m all right,” he said, looking down at her while she looked up. He stopped her from wiping away the tears again, and kept her hand in his. “I knew these people, Liselle. I don’t know how, but I met them and there was a terrible struggle to get us all back. I promised them I’d find them again. You don’t believe me, do you?”

  “Of course I do,” she said. “I don’t have any reason to doubt you, especially since we’re here and so are they.” She looked down at Alurn and saw the crown. He was wearing the Telaerin crest ring too and her eyes widened. “Is that really Alurn Telaerin?” She looked back at the others. “Polen Forb too? Is he at all like history describes him?”

  He wasn’t sure she was being serious, but he nodded. “A little. He was pretty brusque. But amazing with a sword and a decent man. He risked his life for mine.”

  “And Alurn? From everything I’ve read about him, it seems he could be completely conceited. Was he?” she asked with a smile.

  “No,” Dynan said and then changed his mind. “Yes, a little I guess. Maybe all great leaders have to be and he was that. They all followed him without question. They’ve been waiting here a long time.”

  “And now they’re not,” she said and pulled on him. “I really do think you need to come out of here and sit down. You’re shaking.”

  “I’m freezing,” Dynan said and smiled when her response to that was to put both arms around him.

  “You only just got yourself out of bed and here, you’ve pushed yourself to the very edge of endurance. Probably not the best idea.”

  “Well if I fall over my father won’t yell so much.”

  “I wouldn’t count on that.”

  “Before he gets here and gets started on it, I want to thank you for coming with me. He isn’t going to be too happy about it, but I’m glad you did.”

  “I didn’t think I was going to make it down those stairs.”

  “You could have turned back.”

  She smiled, looking up at him again, and shook her head. Her eyes lowered for a second, before rising back to his. Her fingers tightened around his own. His breath shortened, standing so close to her. He supposed he could be reading ever
ything wrong, but decided caution didn’t fit the occasion. He leaned, hesitating for another fraction of time, and kissed her.

  ~*~

  Chapter 25

  “Awwww. I’m telling.”

  Liselle didn’t miss even half a beat. “What was the name of that boy you thought was handsome? Gaden Ahreld, wasn’t it? You said you wanted to—”

  “Boy?” Dynan said, playing along and completely serious at the same time. “What boy? You’re too young for boys. Gaden Ahreld? Ali Ahreld’s little brother? I’m going to remember that.”

  “You better not!” Shalis said, still peering at them through the narrow opening, but then she looked behind her. “We’re right here, Poppe. Ooo, he’s so mad.”

  Shalis hesitated and then slipped through the door, the thought of running to Dynan cut short by the fact of all the dead she was unexpectedly faced with.

  “Shalis, no,” Dynan said and left Liselle to reach her.

  “There are babies. Who would kill little babies?” she said, backing away from the children she saw and into Dynan. She turned around and buried her face. “Who would do this?”

  “A very bad man,” Dynan said and held her. “He can’t hurt them anymore.” He knelt down and waited for her to look. “Did I tell you, I saw mother?”

  “You’re crazy.”

  “I really did. She asked me about you and she knew how fearless you are before I could tell her. She knew how beautiful you are.” He looked up and saw his father at the door, blazing mad, but listening. “You look just like her. You have her same spirit too. Do you know how lucky we all are to have you here and see her in you? It’s amazing. She doesn’t like it so much that you go out to the cliffs though, so maybe you ought to stop.”

  “You’re just making that up,” Shalis said and tossed her head, looking back over her shoulder at their father, who knew Dynan was making that part up too. Ambrose came and stood over them in silence. “You’re trying to soften him up.”

  “She wants you to be safe, so you’ll grow up and meet boys...later. That Lady over there is your ancestor, and she looks just like mother and just like you too. She was fearless and brave and you don’t need to be afraid for her. She’s safe and she’s with her children.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “I’m positive,” Dynan said and looked up at his father again.

  “Shalis, go wait with Melgan,” Ambrose said. “You’re lucky he can’t fit through the door. The next time you want to go off on some half-brained expedition, leave her out of it.”

  “He didn’t know we were following him,” Shalis said and tugged on his hand. “Don’t be mad, Poppe. Look who he found.”

  Ambrose didn’t acknowledge the plea but stared her down until she obeyed him.

  “Who are the rest of them, Dynan?” she asked as she walked by Polen.

  “Shalis go in the other room – now.” Ambrose didn’t have to glance at Liselle before she was on her way after Shalis.

  The silence was broken only by the muted voices from the other side of the cracked door. Dynan could hear Melgan having a stern conversation with Liselle and he wanted to go out to her rescue, but then she didn’t need it.

  “Would you rather I let him come down here by himself, Captain?” she asked. Dynan smiled when Melgan didn’t respond.

  He was about to try and stand up, having gotten down on his knees for Shalis, but a heavy weariness came over him, making him want to curl up on the floor and sleep.

  “So is this the end of it?” his father asked, but when Dynan glanced up at him, he was looking down at the body of Alurn. When Ambrose nodded like he was getting an answer, Dynan started looking around for someone else in the tomb.

  “Is it?” Ambrose asked again and walked over taking off his cloak that he draped over Dynan’s shoulders.

  “I had to...” Dynan said but couldn’t get the rest of it out.

  “See that they are buried,” Ambrose finished for him.

  “You know, don’t you? You know what happened.”

  “I know,” his father said, crouching down beside him and tucking the cloak around him, “that you were nearly killed by a group of madmen—”

  “They meant to, but didn’t get the chance. They would have,” Dynan said, seeing the three men for a moment, but then they went away. “There was someone else. He looked a lot like Alurn. Black hair, but he had gray eyes.”

  “Really?” Ambrose said, an edge to his voice, and again he wasn’t looking at Dynan. “Is that true?”

  “I had to do something, Pop,” Dynan said, and meant to get up. He put his hands on the floor to push and felt something under his finger. “It’s not his fault, the guy with the gray eyes. He ended up helping me, I think, and he did something to my memory. Maybe it was too horrible to keep. It’s all right. I know enough that it won’t drive me crazy wondering.”

  “You know too much,” Ambrose said, and stood over him.

  “Then he’ll make it stop,” Dynan said, leaning down to blow the dust and grime away from the thing on the floor.

  It was a small crystal ball held in the claws of some large raptor and he thought of a dragon immediately, only there was no such thing.

  “I trust him, Pop. I don’t know his name anymore, but he helped me once. It’ll be all right.”

  “Dynan—”

  “Really, it will be,” he said and picked up the orb. It was strange that no sign of age touched the piece, as if it had only just been hand wrought. The chain that used to hold it was all but disintegrated. Dynan looked to Alurn and saw his hand outstretched and a piece of the chain wound through his fingers.

  “We need to go,” Ambrose said. “Get you out of this cold.”

  Dynan realized that the chill in his bones had lessened so he wasn’t shaking anymore. He looked at the claw-enclosed orb in his hand wondering at its significance when he saw that there was another one just like it not far from Polen Forb. Its chain was in about the same state, tarnished and weakened to the point it wouldn’t hold. Dynan left the chain, but picked up the orb. His father followed him and stood over him again.

  “What is that? You shouldn’t touch anything.”

  Dynan handed the pieces up to him and heard him pull in a breath. Dynan turned back to Polen while images of him alive played through his mind.

  “I told you, old man,” Dynan said to him.

  “What?”

  “Not you, Pop,” Dynan said and laughed.

  “We’re going to leave now,” Ambrose said and meant it.

  Dynan agreed this time but again he saw something poking out of the old leather sack that Polen had strapped around him and realized it was a book.

  “Dynan, stop. I don’t want you to—”

  “You know I studied with the archeology group for the last five years, right?” Dynan said, carefully shifting the flap that was already half open because of the way Pol had fallen. The leather was stiff and didn’t want to move. “I remember that much, don’t you?”

  “I remember I had to force you to take the class.”

  Dynan pulled the book out kel by kel until he had it in hand. It was frozen too, making the leather brittle, so he took extra care when he lifted the cover to look inside.

  The first page was covered in handwriting.

  “Fadril Telaerin is one of the most fearless women I’ve ever known,” Dynan read and glanced up at his father who was looking at Fadril and her children.

  “She had to have been,” he said.

  Dynan nodded to that and carefully set the book down beside Polen, knowing it wouldn’t be possible to take it down the mountain with him. He pushed up to his feet.

  “I will see to it that they are properly tended,” Ambrose said. “And soon. I’ll have a team of Medics—”

  “You need the Arc Group. Amerin Pern. He’s the expert. He’ll know how to manage with this. And the place has to be guarded.”

  “Why do you say that?” Ambrose asked, smirking over Dynan talking about guards
.

  For an answer, Dynan pointed up and his father followed the gesture. The capstone of the room was the same stone the Throne Room seal was carved from, a kind of rock incalculable in value.

  Ambrose grunted at the discovery, and pulled in a breath. “Yes. All right. Speaking of guards.”

  “It won’t happen again.”

  “It will not,” Ambrose said, and Dynan didn’t look at him, but allowed himself to be steered toward the narrow opening. “Not ever, Dynan. You’re going to swear to me right now that you’ll never leave the Palace again without your guards, once you’re allowed to leave that is, if you’re allowed. The guards, by the way, are going to have a conversation with you about it at a time of their choosing, just so you know. I want the oath, vow, whatever you want to call it, right now.”

  “I swear I won’t,” Dynan said without hesitation or even regret that his freedom was going to be curbed to such a degree for probably a long time. In the greater scheme of things, his father needed the assurance, and Dynan was happy to give it to him.

  “All right then.”

  “I really talked to her,” Dynan said, having not shared the conversation with him.

  “Who? Fadril? What are you—”

  “Mother,” he said. “She was there at the end, when I thought I might not come back. She said she hears you sometimes when you talk to her.”

  “Dynan—”

  “I was complaining we never get to see you. She said you should cook dinner for us.”

  Ambrose didn’t speak for a moment, shocked at first, and there was always everlasting grief behind his eyes, but after a moment he smiled. “She said that?”

  “We used to, didn’t we, when we were little?”

  “Once a week,” Ambrose said and then he looked at him again. “All right. I’ll cook dinner. I’m not sure you’re going to like it, but I’ll do it.”

  “With no one else around, Pop. Just us.”

  “Kamien?”

  A moment of silence followed that, but Dynan nodded. “If he wants,” he said and Ambrose laughed.

  “He might surprise you.”