King's Artesan: Artesans of Albia trilogy (Artesans Series Book 3)

by Cas Peace

  When she finally uncovered his face, she went white and cold with shock. Jay’el gave a gasp of horror and Ki-en rushed behind the nearest tree, where they could hear him noisily heaving. Bull and Sullyan had seen many such sights on the battlefield and were hardened to gore, but even they felt their stomachs turn at the sight of Vanyr’s ruined face.

  The all-white eyes were gone, only bloody empty sockets remaining. Their liquid had boiled down Vanyr’s face, melting and searing the flesh. He would have suffered unbearable agonies. His ears and nose had also bled heavily, and he was totally unrecognizable.

  Her heart aching, Sullyan reached out her senses again, making very sure that he would feel no pain when his consciousness returned. She could feel him swimming up from the depths of his psyche toward her, every little advancement an effort to his damaged mind. Enveloping him in her own vast strength, she let him use her powers instead of his own. With Bull’s help, she gently took hold of his body, lifting and turning him so that he lay in her lap, his ruined head cradled to her breast.

  He made a small sound in his throat and a shudder ran through his body. “Bull,” she murmured, “get him some water.”

  The big man fetched a water skin from Ki-en’s saddle and managed to dribble a little liquid into Vanyr’s damaged mouth. He swallowed with difficulty.

  “Brynne,” he croaked. “You came.”

  “Of course I did, my friend. I would never refuse you, you know that.”

  “I did my best,” he whispered, desperation coloring his tone. “I knew I had to save it for you, and I did my best. But it was too strong … I wasn’t quick enough. I don’t know if the others got out in time. I tried to hold it, but I couldn’t ….”

  “Hush, Torman, hush,” she soothed. “You have been so strong. Can you tell us what happened? You do not need to speak. Only open your mind and let me see. Lie easy and let me do the work. Rest now.”

  He sighed as she entered his mind, her presence a soothing balm to his hurts. Relaxing, he let her take control. She linked with Bull so that he too could see what Vanyr had experienced.

  Chapter Twelve

  Sullyan watched quietly as Vanyr’s mind replayed the scene. She saw him and the pirates battling with Sonten’s men, watched as Commander Heron was given the Staff and ordered to open the tunnel. She heard Robin’s shout and Vanyr’s reply as he pushed toward Sonten. Grimacing, she saw Sonten thrust first his men and then Heron into the unstable tunnel. Cal’s scream, both vocal and metaphysical, made her wince as it reverberated through the tunnel, rampant metaforce overbalancing its precarious existence. And she felt Vanyr’s agony as he valiantly tried to hold the tunnel together by channeling his own power through the Staff.

  She shared his urgency as he sent Ky-shan and the seamen scuttling for safety, but she couldn’t tell if the pirates got out or not. Of Robin there was no further sign. Frowning, she saw both Sonten and Heron go down, Heron’s mind instantly obliterated by raging forces he couldn’t control. Sullyan gasped as she felt the power’s backlash rip through Vanyr’s body, destroying his face even as he doggedly clung to his lifeline. Large, bitter tears rolled down her cheeks as she realized that his feelings for her had enabled him to hold on, even through such unimaginable torture. Thoughts of her had caused him to reach out, trying desperately to grab the Staff as he hurtled past the lifeless Heron, pain wracking him as the tunnel imploded.

  She was amazed he had found the strength to open the tunnel and release that final blast, but that strength had enabled him to shield a tiny portion of his mind as the soil of Andaryan exploded, sending the contents of the crater skyward and flattening the poor village. And then he had somehow found the will to call her, fulfilling his final self-imposed task, the one he had given his life for.

  Feeling him stir, she looked down, her sight blurred by tears. She saw him unclench his arms, revealing the object he had been holding so tightly.

  It lay gleaming, totally untouched by the ruin it had caused. Shimmering blue and green along its length, it was innocuous, quiescent, beautiful, and strange. She was loath to touch its deadly beauty, but he had wrecked himself for this, striven for it, endured agony for it, and she must not show her revulsion at touching something that was still such an intimate part of Rykan. Accepting the artifact from Vanyr’s nerveless fingers, she could almost feel Rykan’s hands upon her naked body, experienced the sick helplessness she had felt as he forced himself inside her time and time again. Biting back a sob, she accepted that the consequences of Rykan’s brutality were far from over.

  She managed to hide this from the dying man she cradled so tenderly. Suffusing him with her love, she let him see how proud she was, how highly she valued him. She told him how they would revere him back at the Citadel, and how carefully they would tend him once she got him home.

  He stirred again.

  “No, Brynne.” His voice was a harsh murmur. “There is no home for me now. Yet I am content. The Staff would have been lost forever, and it is enough for me to know that you have it safe.” He sighed, his chest barely rising. “I’m dying. I know that. It doesn’t matter. I don’t wish it any different. If I have one regret, it’s not being able to see your face again ….”

  She blinked, tears rolling freely. As she looked in mute appeal toward Bull, the big man guessed what she was asking. They were still linked, so he sent her image into Vanyr’s fading mind, a peaceful image of her smiling serenely down at him as he lay in her arms. Tactfully, he omitted showing the Commander’s ruined face.

  Vanyr’s bloody lips moved, trying to form a smile, and Sullyan’s heart nearly broke. She sat in silence, gently stroking Vanyr’s hair, letting her friendship and pride wash through him. With his hand clasped in her good one, she tried to ease his discomfort as best she could.

  “Brynne?” His voice was so faint she could hardly hear him. “Will you do me one last favor?”

  She took a trembling breath. “Anything, my friend. Just ask.”

  “Will you open the way for me?”

  Feeling the blood drain from her face, she closed her eyes. Bull gave a sharp intake of breath. What Vanyr was asking for was the ultimate gift, the most precious gift one Artesan could give to another, although it took nothing less than a Master’s skill. To open the Void, the Gateway to death, to help the consciousness slip slowly and painlessly through in dignity and in peace. For the dying it was a welcome release, but for the giver it was hard. It left such scars on the soul as would never fade away. Such an intimate thing could only be asked of the most loving and faithful friend. Or, perhaps, the bitterest enemy.

  Sullyan bowed her head. Unbeknownst to any of them, she had already done this once before. Even Robin didn’t know that this was how Jessy, his beloved sister, had left the world. Harrowing as it was, she knew what it felt like.

  “Of course I will, Torman, if that is truly your wish.”

  “It is,” he said. His breath rasped. “Brynne, I do regret that we were not friends sooner. Can you forgive me for what I put you through? I can’t believe how petty I was. I couldn’t see what you were, couldn’t believe you could do what you claimed. I was blind then, but now, when it is too late, I can see. Will you forgive me?”

  Through her tears she whispered, “Hush, my friend, you were forgiven long ago. Today you have given me a wonderful gift, the gift of hope, and I love you for it. You have nothing to reproach yourself with, and you have the gratitude of all those I love. Your name will be remembered forever, and you will be accorded the highest of honors for what you have done. I was right when I told you that your strength was greater than you knew, but today you surpassed even my expectations. You are a very powerful Artesan, my friend. Not many could have done what you did.”

  Biting back sobs, she squeezed his hand. The tall Andaryan smiled faintly, his lips oozing fresh blood. “I am ready now,” he breathed, and she could feel him relaxing, opening his soul and life force fully to her, giving himself up to her control. Taking a deep breath, she
reached her senses into him, surrounding his soul with a cocoon of his own psyche.

  “Farewell, my friend,” she whispered, and bent to place a soft kiss on his ruined lips. As she did so, the Void of oblivion opened to her command and she helped him slip slowly through, watching with silent tears as the glowing pattern of his psyche flared briefly and then faded, falling down into darkness until she could see it no more.

  For a long time she sat there just holding his body, head lowered, eyes closed. Bull, Jay’el, and Ki-en left her in peace, for which she was grateful. She vaguely heard them tending the horses, setting out supplies, lighting a fire to brew fellan. Bull’s murmured request that Jay’el should relate the story behind her friendship with Vanyr did not disturb her, and neither did the lad’s soft voice as he complied. Memories swam gently through her mind to the cadence of Jay’el’s tale, slowly soothing her aching heart. Gradually, she brought herself up from her grief, passing through gratitude, and finally into acceptance of what had happened.

  Easing herself from under Vanyr’s cooling body, she wrapped him in his cloak, hiding his ruined face. She reluctantly took up the Staff and looked down at him for a little longer. Then she moved over to the fire, sitting cross-legged and accepting the steaming mug held out to her by Bull. She didn’t speak, and he watched her expectantly as she communed with the Hierarch, informing him of Vanyr’s demise. When she was done, she walled off her grief for the moment.

  “Pharikian asks that we bear Torman home,” she told him. “He wants to give him a full military funeral and has asked me to participate. We will camp here for tonight and return in the morning. An honor guard will be sent to meet us.”

  Bull nodded. “How are they all at the Citadel?”

  “Pharikian is well enough. He needs further attention but should quickly heal. Anjer is undamaged but weak. Ephan still has not regained consciousness but is expected to fully recover. Deshan and Rienne are caring for them.”

  She broke off and Bull waited for the rest. She was holding herself in check, but he knew what was troubling her.

  “Do you want me to go back?” he eventually asked. She knew he meant to Albia. “Ki-en and Jay’el could come with me.”

  She shook her head. “No, Hal. I thank you but … not yet. We must convey Torman home first. And I do not want to send you into what could be trouble.” She looked him in the eyes. “But I would ask you to try for contact, if you would. I cannot help but be worried for Robin.”

  *****

  Aided by Dexter and forty of his command, Robin herded the Andaryans together at the far end of the main village street. Parren’s and Baily’s commands stood well back, leaving the clean-up until this was over. A few of the villagers had come to watch, but most stayed away. They were uncomfortable watching Artesans work.

  Having first made sure there were no stray villagers to get in the way, Robin opened a tunnel. He was heedless of where it led. His only concern was that it should not open anywhere he knew. Once it was stable, his men herded the prisoners through, many of the Andaryans complaining bitterly about the lack of horses or supplies. They only desisted when Dexter bluntly offered to ensure that they never needed either again. Robin didn’t care. He just wanted to be rid of them so he could get back to Sullyan. Time was passing and evening was drawing on, and he wanted to be back in Andaryon by nightfall.

  As soon as Dexter had shepherded the last stragglers through, Robin collapsed the structure, massaging his aching temples. His headache was making him snappy. It was just as well, he thought, that Parren had kept himself occupied elsewhere.

  He took his leave of Dexter and the men, promising to return sometime in the future, although he shied away from thinking about the circumstances that would enable him to keep that promise. Dexter understood and gripped his shoulder. “Tell her … well, just tell her, Captain.”

  “I will, Dex. Now I really must go. I’m sorry to leave you with all this. Take care of Cal, and watch out for Parren. I have a nasty feeling he’s going to try to make more trouble.”

  “Don’t worry,” said Dexter darkly, “I’ve got my eye on that one.”

  Giving Cal a final wave through the cottage door, Robin swung up onto Torka. The pirates were already mounted and moving out of the village. Taking them into the fields, Robin gathered his woolly wits and aching head and once more called up the power of Earth. Passing through the Veils without incident, they emerged onto the Plains below the Citadel just as night was falling.

  The tunnel’s grey shimmer slowly faded, dying away to nothing.

  *****

  Sullyan sat fretting, her eyes on the flames of their fire. How she resented not being able to cast her senses through the Veils to contact Robin! She may have rid her body of the majority of Rykan’s poison, but that last tiny residue lodged deep in her soul meant instant agony if she tried to force even the smallest part of her mind through the barriers. So she had to rely on Bull, and after his recent exposure to the substrate blast, his strength was limited. He had also not completely recovered from his heart seizure, and the last thing Sullyan wanted was for him to have a relapse. So she accepted his failure to contact Robin with as much good grace as she could muster, which wasn’t much.

  She knew that Bull was aware of her feelings. They were so used to each other that, despite her prowess in guarding her expressions and thoughts, she was doubtless being all too transparent to him. It was the price you paid for such closeness, and even Robin didn’t know her as well as Bull did. The brilliance of the swaying flames before her sent many vivid images into her mind, some painful, some bitter, some pleasant.

  Bull watched her sitting there in silence, drinking yet another cup of fellan and staring into the fire as if it was a window on the world.

  “Sully?”

  She didn’t take her eyes from the dancing flames. “Mmm?”

  “Can you summon images in Fire the way you can in Water?”

  Bull had always been wary of Fire. He was an Adept-elite, and so could influence the element, but deep down Fire frightened him. It touched something primal in his soul and he had never been able to overcome his fear. It was one of the reasons he had never been able to progress above his Artesan rank, one of the reasons Sullyan had gone looking for someone like Robin. Bull would never sit as she could and watch his memories come to life in the flames.

  Her gaze flickered but did not leave the fire. “Sometimes. Why do you ask?”

  “Oh, just wondering. You’re staring so hard, I wondered what you were seeing.”

  “Nothing important, Hal,” she sighed. “Just keeping warm.”

  She could tell he wasn’t sure whether to believe her, but he didn’t press the point. He was about to speak again when she suddenly stiffened, her eyes dilating wide in the dusk. Then Bull stiffened too.

  “Robin!” she exclaimed, linking with Bull so he could also hear the Captain.

  They sat immobile while Robin told his tale. Both could hear Robin’s despair as he related what had happened to the tunnel and the village, and how he believed the Staff was lost. Sullyan sensed Bull’s pride in the young man for the forthright way Robin told them about his failure to secure the weapon. She immediately put his mind at rest, telling him of Vanyr’s heroic sacrifice. Despite his sorrow at Vanyr’s death, Robin couldn’t disguise his relief and elation on learning that she possessed the precious Staff.

  We will return to the Citadel tomorrow, she told him. We are bearing Commander Vanyr home where he will be sent off with full military honors. We will start out early in the morning. You get back to the Citadel and reassure Rienne about Cal. She and Taran will be pleased to see you. We will be there by late afternoon, I think. And, Robin?

  Yes?

  I am very proud of you, my love. It was no fault of yours that you could not secure the Staff. If it had been lost, you would have borne no blame. Do you hear me?

  I hear you, replied Robin, although they all knew the young man would have blamed himself for the rest of
his life had the artifact been lost for good.

  Breaking the link, Sullyan sighed. Jay’el held a plate of meat out to her and stared hard at her until she accepted it. Smiling ruefully, she began to eat.

  *****

  Vanyr’s body was returned to the Citadel in somber style. The honor guard, led by a recovered Anjer and Vanyr’s lieutenant, Barrin, comprised some fifty Velletian Guardsmen. All had volunteered for this sad duty and were soberly resplendent in ceremonial dress. Sullyan and her party met them around midday. Bull, who had been carrying Vanyr’s wrapped body in his arms, gave his burden to the Lord General, who placed Vanyr carefully on the bier they had brought with them. It was drawn by two white horses and draped with a sumptuous purple banner bearing the Hierarch’s tangwyr emblem. They all formed up around it, Anjer and Sullyan riding beside the bier with Bull, Ki-en, and Jay’el just behind.

  On entering the city, they were greeted by a rousing fanfare from the heralds and a clashing of weapons from the swordsmen thronging the battlements. It seemed the entire population had turned out to witness the homecoming of the Commander of the Velletian Guard. Sullyan, seeing tears and sorrow on many faces, thought how amazed Vanyr would have been to see such signs of respect. Knowing intimately how they felt, she bowed her head.

  The cortege slowly mounted the Processional Way, trumpets marking its progress, and came to rest in the palace courtyard. From there, Vanyr’s body was taken away to be prepared for his funeral and Sullyan and Bull were reunited with Robin.

  It was an emotional time, especially for Robin and Sullyan. The young Captain had returned to the Citadel before full dark the previous evening and wasted no time in telling Rienne and Taran the tale of the siege. He also gave Rienne the message from Cal, which caused the healer to break down in sobs. They eventually managed to calm her, once Robin had reassured her that Cal should make a full recovery. He even offered to contact Cal and pass on a message for her, but Rienne demurred with a mischievous smile, saying she didn’t think Robin was capable of passing the sort of message she wanted to give. His blushes finally made her laugh.