by Angus Wells
“Then we’ll not be able to take Danant’s vessels.” Nassim sighed. “I was enjoying this war.”
“There shall be others,” Kerid said. “Who knows what the Vachyn sorcerers will do?”
“There’s that,” Nassim allowed.
“I hope not,” the Mother said. “War with the Vachyn? Best hope we become …” She lost her words, staring at Kerid. “That would be a terrible war, no?”
Kerid glanced at Nassim and grinned.
“Surely terrible, Mother.”
Ellyn accepted the chieftains in the throne room of the palace. Her grandfather ducked his knee and swore the fealty of the Dur. Jaime promised the loyalty of the Arran. I swore that the Devyn would always support her. Then Roark pledged the Quan and asked, in front of us all, that she marry him.
She blushed and hesitated a moment before she said, “Yes,” and the chamber rang with cheers, and young Roark blushed red as his bride-to-be.
Then Ellyn looked to me and asked, “Shall you command my army, Gailard? Shall you still be my guardian?”
I smiled and took Shara’s hand as I shook my head. “I shall always be your guardian, do you ask me. But command of the army … no. I’ve a bellyful of fighting, and I’d go with Shara back to her broch.” I thought to add, “With your leave, my queen.”
“You shall go where you will.” She frowned a moment, but Roark was at her side and the frown did not last long. “But might I … we … visit you there?”
“Of course,” Shara said. “And well not leave for a while. There’s much I’d still teach you.”
“My thanks.” Ellyn smiled and nodded. “For everything. But”—she looked to me—“if not you, then who shall command my army? Under my husband, of course?”
“Haldur.” I pushed him forward. “He’s loyal and brave, and the soldiers know him.”
“Shall you?” she asked.
Haldur bent his knee. “I am at my queen’s command.”
“Then that’s settled.” She beamed. “And Kerid—shall you lead my navy?”
“By your leave, no.” Kerid shook his head. At his side, Mother Hel smiled calmly. “I’d go back to Hel’s Town.”
“But know,” the Mother said, “that so long as my pirates sail the river, Chaldor’s shores and ships are safe. And do you need us again, we are at your beck.”
“And my newfound allies?” Ellyn looked to where Egor Dival stood. “Shall they be safe?” By the gods, she learned statecraft readily as she had swordwork.
“Your friends are mine,” the Mother said.
“Excellent. But who shall command my boats? I doubt the Vachyn will leave us alone for long, and whilst we feel secure on land, there’s the question of the river.”
“Might I suggest a name?” Kerid asked. “He’s a fine sailor, and brave. And he’s proven his worth.”
Ellyn nodded regally. Was this the petulant child I’d taken out from Chorym?
“I would suggest,” Kerid said, “that you make Nassim commander of your fleet.”
There came a choking sound then, and Nassim’s face went pale as he swallowed his plug. He began to back away, but Mother Hel gestured and four of her fish-mailed guardsmen surrounded Nassim and herded him forward.
“Shall you accept this commission?” Ellyn asked. “Be my commander on the Durrakym?”
Nassim belched, wiping at his stained mouth. Kerid nudged him in the ribs; the Mother studied him with speculative eyes. He looked from one to the other, then at Ellyn.
“Me? Command your navy?”
“Yes,” Ellyn said. “You. Do my loyal allies name you, then I’d have you lead my navy.”
Nassim pursed his lips, ready to spit, then thought better of it and ducked his head. “I am honored, my queen.”
Ellyn smiled. “Then we need to discuss the substance of our fleet.”
I saw Mother Hel frown and Kerid begin to grin. I found it hard to stifle my own laughter—the gods knew, but this child learned fast.
“How do you mean?” Nassim asked.
“There are, I believe, numerous craft amongst your fleet that were originally Chaldor’s.” Ellyn favored the Mother with a beam. “Indeed, I understand that Kerid first came to you with Chaldor vessels. Shall you give those back?”
I watched the Mother’s lovely face darken. Kerid whispered in her ear, and her expression grew bright as she laughed. “Those and more,” she promised. “Enough you’ll own a real navy for Nassim to command.”
“My thanks,” Ellyn said graciously. “Now shall we celebrate our victory?”
“It were best,” Shara said, “that you see to your city first.”
I said, “Chorym’s been sore hurt, and her citizens with her. See to them, eh? Then we’ll celebrate.”
Ellyn nodded, taking Roark’s hand. “You’re right. My joy makes me forgetful. Let’s to it then.”
So we did not celebrate our victory until some measure of order was restored to Chorym. We saw Egor Dival gone with all that was left of Danant’s army, shipped across the Durrakym in Nassim’s boats after the treaty was signed. Then we set to housing all those left homeless by Talan and Nestor, and set to rebuilding the ravaged city. It was only when that work was begun, and we knew none would starve, that we had our victory feast.
Ellyn took the head of the table as befit her new-won status. Roark sat puppy-eyed on her right hand, I to her left. An honorable position that—the place of the shield-bearer, the Guardian—and Shara was to my left. Kerid and Mother Hel, Nassim, Mattich, and the rest sat down the length of the long table. We ate well, and drank better, and I knew that I sat amongst true friends.
Even so it was a night not empty of sadness. Come the morning, the Highlanders would depart—go back to their wives and children, and I knew I’d not see them in a while. Kerid and the Mother would set sail for Hel’s Town, and Ellyn was preoccupied with her queenly duties and Roark. I felt that a chapter of my life had ended, and even as I celebrated that ending, I felt a regret that I must bid these friends farewell.
And, also, a great anticipation. After all, Talan was defeated and slain, Chorym retaken and Ellyn on her throne. I had fulfilled all my promises—served out Andur’s geas, and Ryadne’s. It seemed to me a time when I might look forward to the settling of those other promises exchanged with Shara.
I took her hand, and she smiled at me.
I was about to speak when Ellyn said, “Do you forgive me, but I am mightily tired. I’d find my bed, lest I be asleep when our Highlander allies depart.”
She smiled at Roark as she finished, and I thought that it had been better put “our bed.”
Mattich roared laughter, lofting a goblet that splashed wine over his shirtfront, and rose to toast his granddaughter and her consort.
“Shall I lead the Quan home, Roark? For I suspect you’ll be otherwise occupied.”
Roark blushed. Ellyn said with massive grace. “My husband shall decide that, Grandfather. But it might well be awhile before he leaves.”
I felt Shara’s hand close tight on mine as they quit the room.
“I’d also to bed.” Then she added, “Ours.”
We lay together under silk sheets. The moon shone in through the window of our chamber and lit the room with silver light that set sparks to dancing in Shara’s raven hair, outlined the wondrous planes of her beautiful face. From outside came the sounds of celebration—the laughter of folk freed from oppression echoing from Chorym’s streets. I was weary with our lovemaking. It had been even better than I had dared hope, and I was drained, and happy and fulfilled.
She rose above me, leaning on an elbow as she touched my face.
“Was it worth it, Gailard? Was it worth all the suffering?”
I paused a moment. Then said, “The war? The killing? Yes, surely it was. Else Talan would rule here, and heed the Vachyn. And had they won I’d not have you.”
She laughed and fell against me, and her mouth was on mine, and my lips replied, and …
We wok
e barely in time to bid our friends farewell.
“We must be gone,” Kerid said. He smiled awkwardly “Neither the Mother or I feel happy on land.”
“We’d go back to the river,” Mother Hel said. “Back to Hel’s Town.”
They waved their farewells and set out down the Coast Road to Antium, where the boats waited.
Along the way Kerid asked her, for the first time, for it was the first he dared, “What is your real name?”
She smiled and said, “Does it matter?”
He shrugged. “I suppose not. But …”
She said, “Miranda.” Then she drew the curtains of her palanquin closed, and him closer.
The Hel’s Town pirates marched away to the river; the clans rode westward. From the walls and streets of Chorym there came the healthy sounds of rebuilding as the walls and the houses were raised again. The sun shone bright and a cool breeze blew, lofting swallows not yet gone south over the city.
I rested against a parapet not shattered by Vachyn fire or our attack and stared at the farmlands beyond. I felt exalted and weary. Passionate and young and old, all at the same time. I felt that the world had shifted, and I had played some part in that. And I had no idea what the future might hold.
Ellyn was with me. Shara was occupied below, and Roark was gone to see his clansmen off, so we were alone—there was no longer any need for the queen of Chaldor to walk abroad with a guard.
“It was no easy thing,” she said.
I looked at her, and shook my head. I was unsure of what she spoke.
“I did not like you,” she said. “Not at first. But then I learned that I must look beyond the obvious. Look at the truth. Do you forgive me, Gailard?”
“For what?” I asked.
“For all the insults I gave you,” she said.
I felt the wind on my face and chuckled. “You’ve learned since then to be a queen. And I believe you shall be a very great queen. You’ll serve Chaldor well.”
“I hope so,” she said.
“And if you do not,” I said, “I shall set you over my knee and deliver you the spanking you deserve.”
She stared at me awhile. “You would, too.”
I said, “Yes.”
And we both laughed, and she took my hand and we walked away.
And so it was settled, and what the writers of the history books chose to call the First Vachyn War was ended, and for Chaldor there began a time of peace and plenty that surpassed even Andur’s reign.
Egor Dival was installed on Danant’s throne and the two realms swore treaties of lasting peace that endure to this day. Ellyn wed Roark and bound the Highlands to Chaldor, and there were always clansmen amongst Ellyn’s honor guard from that day on. Kerid and Mother Hel returned to the islands, but no Hel’s Town pirate ever again preyed on the boats of Chaldor or Danant.
And Shara and I commenced that journey that lasted the rest of our lives. But that is another story.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
ANGUS WELLS was born in a small village in Kent, England. He has worked as a publicist and as a science fiction and fantasy editor. He now writes full time, and is the author of The Books of the Kingdoms (Wrath of Ashar, The Usurper, The Way Beneath) and The Godwars (Forbidden Magic, Dark Magic, Wild Magic). Lords of the Sky, his first stand-alone novel, debuted in trade paperback in October of 1994, and was followed by the two-book Exiles Saga: Exile’s Children and Exile’s Challenge. He lives in Nottingham with his dog, Elmore.
THE GUARDIAN
A Bantam Spectra Book / October 1998
SPECTRA and the portrayal of a boxed “s” are trademarks of Bantam Books, a division of Bantam Doubleday Dell Publishing Group, Inc.
All rights reserved.
Copyright © 1998 by Angus Wells.
Map by Jeff Ward.
No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publisher. For information address: Bantam Books.
eISBN: 978-0-307-57469-5
Bantam Books are published by Bantam Books, a division of Bantam Doubleday Dell Publishing Group, Inc. Its trademark, consisting of the words “Bantam Books” and the portrayal of a rooster, is Registered in US Patent and Trademark Office and in other countries. Marca Registrada. Bantam Books, 1540 Broadway, New York, New York 10036.
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