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

by Cas Peace

  Chapter Twenty-One

  A succession of unfamiliar images scrolled past Rienne’s inner eye. There were faces—a youth with a terrified expression, two older men—and there were places. The tangled forest glade showed up frequently, but Rienne had no idea why. There were images of a raging fire accompanied by feelings of terror but also of glorious power. At first, Rienne thought the fire images might relate to Sullyan’s duel with Rykan, but then she realized her error. Sullyan had certainly felt the terror when Rykan defeated her and trapped her hand in the Firefield, but there had been no glorious use of metaforce.

  These images seemed to belong to someone else, someone she didn’t know.

  All the while Deshan sat beside her, his presence resting quietly within her mind, not interfering, only guiding. She felt no urgency, no sense of frustration, simply a willingness to continue this search through her dreams. The headache had cleared completely and she felt calm and in control. So calm that a tune was playing in her mind, keeping time with her heartbeat. She hadn’t noticed it before and couldn’t have said when it first started. She felt herself smile, although whether physically or inwardly she didn’t know. It was a lovely tune, a familiar tune, and she began to hum the melody.

  She sensed Deshan’s attention was focused fully upon the tune. This didn’t worry her, didn’t pull her away from the song. If anything, her immersion deepened until nothing existed but the song. It buoyed her soul and wrapped her heart, its words gradually becoming clearer.

  Earth speaks in tones of soil, wood, and stone

  Where had she heard those words before? She knew them intimately, yet couldn’t place their origins.

  An echo that runs through all that we are

  She felt herself carried along on the gentle rhythm, her heart still keeping time, and knew it would lead her somewhere safe, somewhere she wanted to go.

  Its presence and power sustain on their own

  Power was certainly sustaining Rienne. She felt like she could exist this way forever, never needing sleep, food, or drink. The only thing missing was—

  But your love gives life meaning, your heart is my home

  Ah, yes. Love.

  *****

  The Manor’s parade ground was huge, a rectangular space of packed earth stamped flat by the passage of countless boots and hooves. There was a permanent pavilion at the end of the south side, and this had been decorated with the banners and colors of both visiting monarchs. They fluttered gently in the light breeze, picked out by the weak spring sunshine. As Reen stalked along next to Vassa, behind the General and the two monarchs, he breathed deeply, trying to purge the feeling of uncleanness the outlanders’ proximity gave him.

  The General showed Elias and the outlander king to their seats. Vassa moved to stand just behind the demon while Reen stayed as far away as possible, taking a stance to the left of Elias and Blaine. The banners and flags suggested a festive air, but Reen could swear there was a somber underlying note. His fanatical gaze strayed frequently to the Hierarch’s face, an unhealthy light glowing in his eyes as his holy mission burned in his heart.

  Tearing his gaze away, he gnawed on frustration. Surely there was someone here open to persuasion? Someone who could be bribed to pass him information? But they all seemed so loyal and so at ease with these blasphemous beings among them that he was beginning to think he wouldn’t be able to initiate his little scheme. He was still brooding on the problem when the parade fanfare blew.

  *****

  Mounted on Torka, Robin led his men onto the parade ground behind Colonel Vassa’s formation. Despite his mood, he spared a thought for Taran and Cal, both highly nervous on their horses behind him. Cal still wore bandages on his mending arm. Thankfully, they kept their heads and remembered their drill, and everything went off smoothly.

  All the companies managed to end their sequences at the same time and in their correct places. The sound of their choreographed salute echoed across the parade ground. They stood stock still while King Elias acknowledged their homage and accepted their renewed Oaths of Allegiance. Even the horses behaved.

  Once they were stood at ease in their serried ranks, King Elias and General Blaine moved down to the platform jutting out into the parade ground. The trumpeters sounded the royal fanfare, triumphant notes rising high into the air. Sergeant-Major Harker, a strongly built man of medium height with a bullhorn voice, moved out from the ranks of Vassa’s troops and came to stand beside the platform. He began barking out names, and those summoned came forward to receive their battle honors for meritorious conduct during the repulsion of the demon invasion.

  The last two names were a surprise to everyone, not least to the men concerned. Taran and Cal were astounded to find themselves included in the ceremony, receiving their honorary ribbons from the King with pride and slightly embarrassed bemusement. The heartfelt cheers of Robin’s company rang in their ears as they returned to their mounts. Both were grinning inanely.

  The next name to be called was no surprise to Robin. Sergeant Dexter had proven himself more than deserving of promotion to Captain, and his youthful face was a picture of pride as he received his single thunderflash rank badge from the King’s own hands. The cheering that followed was not restricted to Robin’s command, as Dexter was a popular man.

  Then Sergeant-Major Harker called out three more names, and grooms ran forward to take the horses’ bridles. Robin realized that young Tad had somehow managed to wheedle a groom’s place, and the lad grinned widely as he took Torka’s reins from Robin. He, Baily, and Parren approached the royal presence. The King commended them for relieving the siege of Hyecombe and presented their battle honors. Parren shot Robin a venomous look, but Robin, in no mood for his spite, ignored the man.

  The King did not step back once the honor ribbons were bestowed, nor did he release the three men before him. Instead he turned around and accepted the rank badge General Blaine passed him. Then he stepped toward Captain Baily and, to the small man’s utter amazement, promoted him to Lieutenant-Major.

  Even then, the King was not done. Blaine handed him yet another rank badge, and this time he stepped toward Robin, regarding the wary confusion in the young man’s eyes with open amusement.

  “Captain Tamsen, by courtesy of his Majesty, the Hierarch of Andaryon, I have been fully informed of the part you played in protecting his throne from a challenge by the rebel lord, Rykan. A challenge which, had it succeeded, would have had far reaching ramifications for our own realm. For this service and for your loyalty to Major Sullyan, I hereby promote you to the rank of Major.”

  Robin was stunned. He had expected to be rewarded—Blaine had told him as much—but not like this. The roar of approval greeting the King’s statement was deafening, but Robin couldn’t feel any pride. He was suddenly and overwhelmingly certain that his promotion and Dexter’s was due to one thing only: the vacancy left by Sullyan’s disappearance.

  The thought turned his heart to lead.

  Robin could barely move his arm to salute the King as Elias pinned the double-thunderflash rank insignia to his jacket. Dismissed, all three men walked back to their mounts, Robin hardly feeling the daring pat on the back he received from an adoring Tad. He barely noticed and certainly didn’t worry about the lethal look that Parren, passed over and furious, directed at him.

  *****

  Baron Reen watched the parade with scant interest. Military men showing off their horsemanship and fighting skills didn’t stir his breast. The horns and drums that accompanied such displays hurt his ears. A man’s ability to march in step with another man wasn’t something Reen admired, so instead he let his eyes roam idly over the faces of the many men before him.

  Most of them were quite young, he realized. Most of the King’s Guard at Port Loxton were veterans, men of some years’ experience, but some of those here were scarcely old enough to be apprentices. Of course, he remembered, the Manor was a training ground for the King’s forces, and many of these were probably cadets.
An agreeable age, he thought, his interest suddenly piqued. Maybe I should look a little closer ….

  *****

  Rienne’s heartbeat was tied irrevocably to the gentle strains of the song playing through her soul. Deshan had stopped asking her to concentrate on the images and instead allowed her to float wherever the song would take her. It spoke to the elements of her being, calling on each in turn, confirming her existence within the Great Wheel of Life.

  Water’s music gives birth to the soul

  Its essence surrounds us, feeds all that we are

  The hard rain, wild sea, the softness of snow

  Runs deep within us as love itself flows

  Something buried within the song began calling to Rienne, beckoning her, urging her gently on. She floated, serene, untroubled by thoughts of danger or fear, enveloped by her own empathic psyche. Nothing touched her. Never had she known such feelings of security and belonging. Was this what Sullyan felt whenever she used her powers? If so, then Rienne could well understand what had driven Taran to persevere for so many frustrating years. Such glorious sensations were surely worth all the failures and perils he had endured.

  Fire of the sun pours warmth through the leaves

  Life’s cradle of heat gives us all that we are

  Light for our eyes and the life that we see

  Kindling true friendship, your love kindles me

  Friendship and love. Rienne had been fortunate enough to experience both in her life, friendship and love deeper and more meaningful than many ever found. Cal was her life mate—no matter that they were not yet wed—and she had bonded closer with Sullyan than she could ever have imagined. She simply could not conceive of a life without the younger woman, and this thought pierced the aura of calm around her, sending a sudden pang like fire shooting through her heart. Overwhelming sorrow flooded her, drowning her. She flailed, and Deshan held her, using his own powers to support her as desperation swept through her.

  *****

  Standing next to his horse, Robin heard General Blaine murmuring to the King. Both men left the platform, returning to their seats as the assembled companies performed a mass salute. Blaine then conferred briefly with both Elias and Pharikian, and Robin saw the tall Andaryan ruler nod. He stood and accompanied Blaine toward the platform. Sergeant-Major Harker gestured to the trumpeters, who blew another stirring fanfare. In his best parade ground voice, he boomed that the Hierarch of Andaryon, Senior Master Artesan, would now preside over matters concerning those of his craft.

  Breathing heavily, Robin tried to compose himself. He had been dreading this moment, and his convictions concerning his promotion had not eased him. He knew he wouldn’t be able to concentrate. He didn’t want this, he wanted to be elsewhere. He wanted to be searching for Sullyan. But he was trapped. In need of support, he glanced about for Bull, but the big man seemed to have disappeared. Instead, all he saw was the murderous anger in Parren’s accusing eyes. He failed to suppress a shudder.

  Cal and Taran were called forward to be officially confirmed in their status by the most senior member of their craft. Despite knowing it was coming, they were highly nervous, but Pharikian was merciful, demanding no outward show of their prowess. Placing a hand on each of their heads in turn, he merely confirmed and announced their status—Taran as Adept, and Cal as Apprentice-elite. Giving him the obeisance due a Senior Master, they quickly returned to their places.

  The moment Robin was dreading had arrived. Leaving Torka once more in Tad’s care, he moved unsteadily to stand before the Hierarch. Pharikian, seeing his pale and stricken face, looked on him with sympathy.

  “Major Tamsen,” he said, and Robin started at the unfamiliar rank. “I would not normally condone putting you through such an ordeal at a time like this, but General Blaine has assured me that it was Brynne Sullyan’s wish that I raise your status. You have earned it, son. It is your right.

  “However, as you are now entering the final stages of Mastery, I cannot simply confirm you as I did Adept Elijah and Apprentice-elite Tyler. The ancient codes of our craft require you to prove your ability before us all. I would spare you this if I could, but it is not possible. Do you understand?”

  “I understand, Majesty, but I most respectfully beg to decline the test. My mind is not ready.”

  Such a breach of protocol widened Pharikian’s eyes. “I’m afraid it’s too late for that. You cannot refuse the test.”

  Robin felt sick. Sensing his distress, Pharikian leaned forward, his heart in his eyes. “You are capable, young man, believe me. Just complete the test Brynne set you and it will be over. You owe her this. You cannot let her down!”

  Robin had no choice. Bowing his head, he tried to hide the resentment in his eyes. He knew he didn’t have the physical strength for this, and the last thing he wanted was the humiliation of failing in front of everyone. He knew without looking that Parren’s burning gaze was fixed upon him. He felt the weight of the thin man’s hatred like a lead yoke on his shoulders. Parren was willing him to fail, and Robin knew he would get his wish. He felt crushed, badly in need of support, and once more looked around for Bull. But the big man was nowhere in sight.

  Resigned, he stepped back as Pharikian gestured to Blaine. The task Sullyan had set him all those months ago was the breaking of a Firefield, and Blaine had been chosen to cast it in her absence. The General strode toward the edge of the platform, eyes hard, face stern, and Robin felt him gathering his will and his rarely used strength. Although most of those in attendance were not Artesans and couldn’t see the Firefield clearly, there were still amazed gasps as the glittering lines and fiery grids materialized around Robin. Blaine might not often use his power, but he was a Master still. His touch was sure.

  Robin hastily tried to gather his friable wits. If only he could find the strength to deal with this quickly, get it over and done with. He spent some time examining the structure, looking for flaws in its construction. He had dared to hope that Blaine might leave him a small loophole that he could use to his advantage, but he soon realized his error. Blaine was a General as well as a Master Artesan, and his integrity would never permit him to do such a thing. Especially not with the King and a Senior Master looking on. No matter how sympathetic he might be, Blaine had a reputation to protect.

  Robin accepted he would have to do it the hard way. He felt Taran’s and Cal’s eyes on him, willing him to succeed, and he wished he could take some strength from them, for his own was woefully inadequate. His shoulders slumped.

  *****

  Robin’s hunch was correct. Captain Parren was watching him avidly, praying hard for his failure. Nursing a bitter rage for the thoroughly humiliating experience of being publicly excluded from the promotion list, Parren laid the blame squarely on Robin. The vicious tongue-lashing he had received from Vassa over his behavior during the siege of Hyecombe, and the Colonel’s efforts to impress upon him how grateful he should be to Robin for dropping any formal charges, had done nothing to change Parren’s opinion. He had been told he owed the continuance of his military career to Robin’s forbearance, but this held no meaning for him. Just the opposite, in fact, for in Parren’s eyes Robin’s failure to bring charges proved what Parren had always suspected. Robin was weak and spineless. Now he had even more reason to despise the man. As far as Parren was concerned, Robin had always hidden behind his unnatural powers and Sullyan’s skirts.

  Despite his impotent fury, Parren nurtured a nugget of satisfaction. Sullyan, at least, had got her just desserts. Parren’s heart had rejoiced on overhearing the men of her company bewailing her loss. They were all as weak as women for consenting to follow her lead. He would never have demeaned himself so far as to take orders from a woman. Women had no place among fighting men, and the Manor would be stronger without her. He ignored the fact that he had often been forced to obey Sullyan’s orders—albeit with sullen reluctance—and that she had surpassed his undeniably considerable weapons skills long ago.

  All that was in the
past. Her absence, he knew, would leave Robin vulnerable, and Parren had indulged his vicious nature by concocting some very pleasing plans. King Elias’s unexpected actions, however, had shattered Parren’s dreams of vengeance, for a Major was well above a mere Captain’s reach. The very thought of this gross injustice caused Parren to seethe with rage. Sitting stiffly on his horse, he glared murderously at Robin, now and then casting a sullen frown at the small, swarthy man standing on the platform behind Elias. For some reason, the man kept staring at Parren and seemed to have found something to smile about.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Grief swamped Rienne, and she floundered. It was too much. Never had she experienced grief like this. It was almost as if she could feel the anguish of two people, her own and someone else’s. The song still pounded through her veins, and she was powerless to assuage the grief that rose with its tempo.

  Air with a soft sigh or raging with force

  Filling the spaces of all that we are

  She felt herself raging with the force of a mighty gale, a tornado of bitterness sweeping through her soul. Deshan was carried along with her, whether by will or by chance she could not tell. His strength sustained her, finally enabling her to dampen the almost uncontrollable bitterness with a milder emotion.

  Tempests and zephyrs, the clouds upon their course

  Its voice sings so sweetly when love is the source

  It was then that Rienne realized she could see a thick, pearly light. It was like trying to peer though soft wool. She could even feel its tendrils on her cheek. And now she was walking—when had that happened? She could hear her own footfalls, or was it just the beat of her heart?

  And where had the song gone? Its strain had disappeared, cut off as if it had never been. Rienne felt bereft, as if she had suddenly lost everything that made sense of her life. A sob worked its way up her throat, pushing irresistibly outward. The tiny sound broke into the void left by the song, its echo bouncing back toward her. Then another echo sounded, and another, but Rienne hadn’t let out any other sobs. So where had those echoes come from?