Shadow and Thorn

by Kenley Davidson

  Athven shrugged off his concerns. “That is not yours to decide, Son of Nar. Merely remember what you have promised.”

  “There is something else we must speak of.” Alexei was not sorry to change the subject. “The army. Have you felt it?”

  “Whispers of it, yes.” Athven’s eyes darkened. “But they are not Erathi, so I can sense nothing except their feet upon the ground. I feel the two, the Betrayer and the Bright One.”

  “How long can you withstand them?”

  Athven hissed. “It depends. Without magic, they will be forced to break me, and that would not be impossible as I am, merely fiendishly difficult. Without the Rose, without a strong bond partner, I cannot hold them off forever. And when the stores held in stasis run out, I cannot conjure food and water to sustain you. In the end, you may be forced to fight.”

  “Which is as I feared,” he admitted. “We have a different plan, but…”

  The vision faded abruptly, leaving Alexei standing in the middle of a passage, blinking into Gulver’s concerned face.

  “Are you well, Alexei?” The shorter man’s mustache quivered. “You were so still. I feared you were no longer breathing.”

  “Damn,” Alexei muttered, but put a hand on Gulver’s shoulder. “I am well,” he assured the healer. “I was speaking with Athven but I did not have the opportunity…”

  The cat was already trotting away. He would have to hope she chose to appear at their impromptu council of war. They had little chance of making this work unless Athven herself was on their side.

  Chapter 10

  They gathered in the kitchen around midafternoon, Wilder rubbing her stomach and making numerous hints about food. Malichai set about preparing some leftover beans with salted meat and a dribble of molasses, much to the girl’s delight. As the resulting soup simmered over the fire, everyone sat around the table and looked at Alexei without speaking. Obviously, they expected him to have a brilliant plan.

  “Does anyone have any information or ideas they wish to share before we discuss Silvay’s news?”

  He didn’t expect anyone to answer.

  “Yes.” Zara was sitting on the end of the bench, slightly separate from everyone else. Her white hair was braided and wrapped around her head, and her blue eyes were fixed on her hands. “Though actually, it’s more of a question. I want to know what happened to my arm.”

  Everyone else looked at each other.

  “It was burned, and now it’s not,” she explained. “I know it wasn’t a dream. I can see the scars. And I know I wasn’t asleep more than a few hours. So what happened?”

  “I healed you,” Gulver explained, blinking his wide brown eyes repeatedly. “That’s my gift, healing.”

  “You mean, you used magic on it? How bad was it?”

  “I’ve seen worse,” Gulver told her, glancing at Alexei, “but it was bad enough. You’d not have kept the arm with mundane healing. Would have gotten infected before you had a chance to grow new skin.”

  Zara shivered visibly, but still didn’t look at anyone. “Have you always been able to do that?”

  “Since I was trained, as a boy,” Gulver told her. “After my gift was identified, I went to a school that helped me learn how to treat specific wounds and maladies.”

  “So you weren’t the only one?”

  Clearly her questions were aimed at something specific, but Alexei could not guess what.

  “No, of course not.” Gulver closed one eye and screwed up his face. “I believe there were about six of us my age… no, seven. And that was a relatively small group. Some had greater strength, some less.”

  “Did anyone in Erath ever die of wounds or disease?” Her voice was tight, and her fingers had turned white where they clenched around each other on the tabletop.

  “Rarely.” Alexei answered before Gulver could. “There were, of course, times where a healer could not arrive quickly enough, but they were stationed as strategically as possible to prevent such tragedies. Please, Zara, what are you asking? Do you have a broader point? Because we do have other matters to discuss.”

  She lifted her chin, her blue eyes cool and measuring. “I want to know why,” she stated. “You’ve talked about your Rose, and I think I may have an idea what it’s supposed to do. Even I know that it was nearly impossible to enter Erath for centuries, and very little was known of your people outside your borders. Until now, I had no idea what Gulver did was even possible. And I want to know why.”

  “I don’t understand.” Gulver was clearly puzzled. “Why am I a healer?”

  “No,” Alexei answered for her. “Why doesn’t anyone know. Why have we kept our abilities a secret.”

  Zara locked eyes with him once more. “I understand that you have little power once you leave your borders. But this is not the same as being able to grow better vegetables, or set things on fire. What Gulver does… It is a miracle. And outside of your little country are people who suffer and die of simple injuries and illnesses, because they have no doctors, no medicine, no idea how to help themselves.”

  “So you would have us spend our lives and our talents helping those outside our borders instead of caring for our own people?”

  “It does not have to be either or,” Zara insisted. “Why would you keep such a gift to yourselves without a thought for the suffering of those who do not share your talents?”

  “What about the suffering of my people whose magic has been discovered by outsiders with hatred and suspicion in their hearts?” Alexei felt a surge of anger and frustration. “Gulver can probably tell you even better than I how we have suffered at the hands of the ignorant and superstitious. How our attempts to help and to serve have been met with violence and prejudice. Why would we make ourselves vulnerable to those who would as soon betray us as thank us?”

  “You cannot claim that everyone has responded to you so,” Zara shot back. “And this cannot be the only place in the world where magic is known and not feared. Would a mother refuse an offer of life for her child simply because she does not understand the source?”

  “More often than you might think,” Alexei growled. “And please tell me how we are to know the difference! Would you have Gulver risk his life on the chance that he will be accepted rather than shunned? Perhaps he could save some. But far more often in our memory, we have been rejected, beaten, even burned on the suspicion of wickedness, simply because those we offered to serve did not understand what they saw.”

  “I cannot accept that it must be all or nothing,” Zara argued, blue eyes blazing. “If you find the Rose, if you restore it, will this once again become a land of isolated wonders? What kind of peace is it that can only be had because you ignore what happens past the end of your nose?”

  “A peace that permits our children to live without fear!” Alexei leapt to his feet and leaned forward over the table. “We know too well what happens when we have no way of protecting ourselves. When the barrier fell, my people died.”

  “You cannot blame an entire world for the actions of one people!” Zara shot back. “What if you had been at peace with your neighbors? What if they had known of what you could do, and been willing to trade their goods for your talents? Perhaps the destruction would never have happened if you had made allies instead of hiding.”

  “Perhaps we should go back five hundred years and let someone who knows nothing of our people or our history dictate how we ought to live.”

  “And perhaps we are engaged in an argument that cannot be solved with an enemy at our door,” Silvay said tranquilly, her hands folded on the table in front of her. “Alexei did ask for questions, but this one is far beyond what any of us have the power to determine at the present. Zara, your questions are important, but we cannot afford to be divided just now. There is an army approaching who threatens not only us, but the futures of all our peoples. Could this discussion be suspended until after we have determined the best way to face that threat?”

  Zara felt the juvenile urge to roll her eyes, b
ut refrained. Silvay was right, but she needn’t sound so motherly about it, and Alexei was simply being pigheaded. Why couldn’t he see how wrong it was to keep such things hidden from the world? How many people had she known whose lives could have been saved by Gulver’s gift?

  She didn’t think it was her mother’s death alone that fueled her anger, but perhaps she would have felt more reasonable had she not been remembering the fever that had finally taken her mother’s life. The one that had left her terrified and alone, then following her father on one treasure hunt after another, with no home, no prospects, no hope of a life beyond the road. Not that she had hated it. But she would have liked to have had a choice.

  “It isn’t as though we won’t have plenty of time to argue in the future,” she muttered. “By all means, tell us about this army. What army and why are they here?”

  “An army gathered and controlled by the former Andari prince, Rowan Tremontaine, with the intent to recover the Rose and use it to fuel their future conquest.”

  Alexei was at least kind enough not to minimize or dismiss the threat. On the other hand, perhaps he needn’t state everything quite so baldly.

  “How do we know this?” Zara couldn’t help asking. She assumed the answer would be “magic.”

  “Because I saw the army,” Silvay answered unexpectedly. “I also sensed the presence of the one we are assuming is Tremontaine, and that of the Betrayer, Porfiry. We drew the unavoidable conclusions from what I observed.”

  “They’ll have a hard time breaching this place,” Malichai offered, combing his beard with his fingers. “She was built to be defensible, even without a wall, and the ground is clear of trees for fifty paces. Not too many windows, and most are high up. Wellspring is protected. We should have no trouble with a siege, if that’s what they want.” He paused, and wiped an eye surreptitiously. “I’m sure my Loraleen will know to avoid them, if it comes to that.”

  “She’s obviously far smarter than most horses,” Zara told him, with what she hoped was a comforting smile. “And you saw for yourself how well she looked only last night.”

  “Aye, she’s eating well enough. And she’s battle trained, and loyal to a fault,” Malichai agreed. “But I still worry.”

  “If they attack, can we throw rocks from the towers, or pour boiling pitch on them from above?” Wilder asked, grinning.

  “I can’t say I’ll be much help.” Gulver’s mustache drooped and quivered a little with his agitation. “Unless it’s already too late. I can fix wounds but I’m no fighter.”

  “Nobody asked you to be,” Alexei put in wearily, looking as though he would have liked to pound his head against the table. “I am aware that we are not seasoned warriors, save Malichai, and he is only one man. We have no more chance of fighting them off than we have of changing into birds and flying away.”

  “Unless you all have been concealing dragons,” Zara put in, eyes innocently wide. “Perhaps we could convince them to rescue us.”

  “Or rain white-hot fire down on our enemies,” Alexei responded acerbically. “Alas, I fear to disappoint you, but we have no dragons. Only wyverns, and they do not breathe fire so much as spit venom. Not to mention they would be as likely to hit you as your enemies and they don’t care what they eat.”

  Zara shut her mouth and grimaced. Of course they had wyverns. If giant bears made of smoke were normal, why not flying lizards that spit venom?

  “Now, if I may,” Alexei continued, “Silvay had a thought of how we might approach this situation that could lead to better than a siege we cannot hope to break.” Alexei didn’t appear to like whatever Silvay’s idea had been any more than he’d liked the wyverns. He was staring at the table, one finger tracing the wood grain. “She suggested we use Athven’s strengths and assume that Rowan will not know what those might be or how to counter them.”

  “We let them in,” Silvay said, when Alexei did not immediately continue. “Athven still controls her doors, for now, so we let in only Rowan and Porfiry. We permit them to find the Rose, and then we take it from them and Athven will throw them out.”

  “You assume she is strong enough,” Zara said, frowning. “She was able to do so with my father, but that effort was literally the last of her reserves. The restoration of her interior has also used considerable power, and she gets little from me. Are you certain she is able to perform what your plan requires?”

  “No,” Alexei admitted. “I was about to ask her earlier, but lost the opportunity. Do you think she would listen if you asked?”

  Zara snorted. “She rarely initiates contact and usually only when she is upset with me. I cannot count on her choosing to invade my dreams.”

  “What might make her upset enough to choose a face-to-face scolding?” There was a tiny crease at the corner of Alexei’s lips that might have been a smile.

  “Pushing you down the stairs.” Zara didn’t need any time to think about that one. “Of course, she would doubtless choose to gloat in person if I kissed you, but I can confidently say that pushing you down the stairs seems far more appealing at the moment.”

  “At the moment?” Wilder echoed, eyes wide.

  Zara felt her face go up in flames. Should have thought that through a little harder before she said it.

  Malichai’s laugh boomed out from where he stood over the fire, stirring their soup. “I can see that our traditional epics might have glossed over some of the finer details of their heroes’ lives.” He shook the spoon in their direction. “I will not be making the same mistakes. One wonders whether the great poets of the past ever bothered to go along on any of the adventures they wrote about.”

  “I can promise you they didn’t,” Zara retorted. “Those of us who’ve had adventures know very well there’s little of romance or excitement in them.”

  “Does anyone have any better ideas?” Alexei interrupted, clearing his throat and shooting an enigmatic glance at Zara. “I would much prefer not to permit the Betrayer to enter these walls unbound, and I have no desire to meet the exiled prince again, so if there are any options I would gladly entertain them.”

  “You speak as though you believe it to be your decision.” Zara raised a brow at him. “We all have a stake in this. Me as much or more than any of you.”

  “You should know,” Silvay broke in again, “that it was Alexei who insisted we ask you. He told me that you will be most nearly affected and deserved to have the final word.”

  Zara could feel her face growing red again. “Well, he could have just said.”

  “If you will allow that I have done so”—Alexei stared at his interlaced fingers for a moment before lifting his eyes to meet hers—“what is it you would wish to do?”

  “Wring Athven’s scrawny little neck,” she responded instantly. It was true. Right then she was feeling entirely out of charity with the stupid castle that had entwined her in this wretched mess. First she was stuck there forever so the avatar didn’t die, and now she was about to be under siege. “But since I’m not sure that would even work, I suppose I would settle for talking to her. It seems like a mistake to plan something with so little margin for error without ensuring the support of one of the major players.”

  “Agreed.” Alexei nodded. “Which stairs would you like to push me down?”

  Zara started. She looked closely at his face, but he wasn’t smiling this time. “I fancy the ones in the north tower,” she replied, when it appeared he wasn’t joking. “If I didn’t like that room so much I would never go to all the trouble to get up there.”

  “The north tower?” His face had gone pale and a haunted look appeared in his eyes. “The room at the top?”

  “Yes,” Zara answered hesitantly. She couldn’t imagine what might make him look that way. “I’ve slept there on occasion. Did someone you know die up there?”

  “In a manner of speaking,” he answered, “I did.”

  Zara would have let him go alone, but Alexei insisted she accompany him up the endless stairs to the room wi
th the diamond-paned window and the blue-covered bed. When they reached it and Alexei pushed the door open, he let out a sigh that seemed to echo with the weight of years and sorrow and secrets.

  “This was your room?” Zara asked softly.

  “From the time I was ten,” he answered after a pause. “I could have slept below, with the other cousins, but something about this room appealed to me. After training, I often felt like I needed distance, needed quiet in order to re-center myself. And”—he gestured to the window—“I liked being able to see the reason for what I was doing. All the tears and trials, all the pain and sweat and the loss of my childhood—I needed to know it was worth it.”

  “I thought you said the training was better than play,” Zara reminded him.

  “And so it was, for a while,” he confirmed. “When I was ten, they identified me as one of the strongest enchanters our people had ever seen. I was singled out for great things. I was proud of the distinction, but the responsibility that came with it was a heavy one. There was little time for play, after that. They tested the limits of my gift to the utmost and I had to master every art an enchanter needs to work his craft. Wood, metal, leather, glass, stone—I had to be a master craftsman with them all.”

  “That sounds like a terrible burden for a child.”

  “I shouldered it gladly, for the most part,” he acknowledged. “Who knows how I would have felt had I grown to adulthood feeling its weight.”

  Zara thought she heard what he did not say. “I think you did feel it,” she said thoughtfully, sitting on the bed and crossing her ankles. “Even in exile, I don’t believe that sort of a burden goes away.”

  “No. But it is easier to ignore. Easier to pretend there is nothing you can do.”

  “Until Porfiry crossed your path?” she guessed.

  Alexei barked an unamused laugh. “Are you sure you are not a seer or a prescient?”

  “Just good at puzzles.” She shrugged. “It’s useful in my line of work.”