Before Gavriel could think about what he had done he sprinted to his oldest friend and crouched at his side.
“Call the princess,” Jewd yelled.
“No! Leave it,” Gavriel growled. “I shot to kill, or didn’t you notice?” he snarled through his welling tears. “Leo . . . ?”
Leo tried to sit up, still fighting, perhaps not quite realizing that life was already fleeing from him. “Ah, Gav, you’ve put an arrow through me,” he said, as blood began to bubble and froth at his mouth. And then a wry twist of a smile formed briefly before it turned to a grimace of pain. “Best you did.”
Gavriel nodded, staring into Leo’s dying eyes. “I know . . . because you never break a promise.”
Leo managed to nod as he closed his eyes. “Never. I am Valisar.”
Leonel of Penraven, who had always regarded himself as Ninth of the Valisars in a distinguished line of kings begotten from King Cormoron the First, sighed his last breath in the arms of Gavriel de Vis, who bent his head and wept.
Chapter Thirty-Nine
While it was a somber mood that gripped those gathered around the convent’s refectory table that night, there was no doubting that everyone was feeling a similar lightness . . . a true sense of hope for the future of the land formerly known as the Set.
The nuns had laid out a modest meal as a gesture of respect for those who had died this day. There would be no feasting while men lay dead outside the Abbess’s convent. But the work of cleaning and cremating the bodies would keep until tomorrow, she had said. “Tonight we all heal properly. We eat and we sleep and we pray for deliverance from all that has troubled so many souls.”
Quietly, a small party had broken away from the nuns and the Vested for a private discussion about the future.
“No one knows yet. That’s the difficulty,” Kilt had said, agreeing with General Marth’s observation that there were still soldiers moving around the empire, oblivious that the chain of command had been broken, let alone that a change in authority was coming at them.
Gavriel had been silent, staring into space, and although he had joined the decision-makers as Lily had suggested, he seemed to show little interest. None blamed him. He looked hollow, a shell of the de Vis that they’d all got to know.
Loethar nodded at Elka, urging her to do something, get Gavriel involved.
“Or we’ll lose him altogether,” he murmured under his breath. “That’s a man on the brink.”
Elka touched Gavriel’s wrist and he jumped like he’d been burned. “Sorry,” she said softly. “I didn’t mean to startle you.”
He shook his head, said nothing.
“Any thoughts on all of this?” she tried.
“I’m not interested in any of it,” he said and turned away. Elka glanced at Loethar with concern.
“Er, de Vis, before you leave, it would be helpful to have your take on this.”
“Why? Since when has my opinion been important?”
“Since you were part of the old regime—an integral part,” Kilt said.
“Leo is dead . . . or did everyone miss my arrow sticking out of his chest?”
“Gavriel,” Lily said gently, taking his hand. “Be easy.”
He pursed his lips and turned away from her.
Genevieve leaned across the table and offered her hand. “Take it,” she said and reluctantly he did. “I wish I could heal the hurt for you, Gavriel, but I don’t have that curative magic any more. It’s gone too. But even if I could, I don’t think I would. You have lost Corbel this day, but so have I. You had Corbel in your life for eighteen anni?” He didn’t say anything but his eyes remained on hers; he was listening. “I had Corbel in mine for twenty and he was the person I loved most in the world. He was my rock, my best friend, my whole conscience. And though I am hurting very deeply over his loss I would never heal myself of it; to do so would be to lose the memory of him in my life. I’d rather bear the pain until it heals itself than bear the thought of not being able to recall why I should miss him or mourn him. So ache, Gavriel de Vis. Ache for Corbel because that way you know he’s alive in your memory and will be with you always.” She shrugged. “As for my brother, your instincts had to be right. You should know that in him I saw a terrible darkness—a tragic self-loathing. And that darkness was part of him . . . nothing to do with his magic.”
“Why?” Gavriel demanded.
She gave a small shake of her head. “I sensed failure. He hated himself, he hated everything around him, he hated you for being true to your nobility and he hated Loethar for being able to rally the very people Leo had counted on. He hated Piven for his power and he hated me for existing. He hated our father for bringing this all upon us, and our mother for killing herself. He saved his greatest hate for himself, though—in this I’m sure. And he wouldn’t have stopped. He would have kept trying to kill us. If he hadn’t been stopped by your arrow, I suspect it would have been Kilt’s, or Elka’s stone, or Jewd’s sword.”
“Genevieve’s right, Gavriel. It will take time but you must learn to forgive yourself or you’ll end up with a twisted logic and loathing like Leo,” Lily said. Then she sighed. “I think we all need time to mourn those we’ve lost.” Her brave smile faltered. “If you’ll exuse me,” she said. “It’s a full moon, I might take some air.”
They watched her go.
“De Vis?” Loethar continued.
“There is only one solution as I see it,” Gavriel replied, and Loethar realized the former noble had been paying attention. “You have to help the people through a time of transition.”
“I want no part in ruling any more.”
“Well, frankly, Loethar, I’m tired of that stance. You created this mess, you can damn well help clean it all up,” Gavriel argued, surprising everyone with his sudden vehemence. “None of the tribal people are going to trust any of the old Set people and vice versa. So it begins with you. Whatever your past, the people do trust you right now. So whatever we want the empire to be, whatever it’s going to become, you must at least begin by leading us there.”
Loethar had no response; he could think of nothing to say.
“I’m serious,” Gavriel said. “You must set the tone for the future. You must tell the Steppes people that they can leave or stay as they wish. You must tell the old Denovians what the new structure for rule is going to be. And you need to explain exactly why you no longer wish to be their emperor. You owe the people that much of an explanation.”
“Hear, hear,” Marth grunted.
Loethar looked around the table, astonished. “And you all agree with this?”
Heads nodded.
“De Vis is right,” Kilt said. “Without your lead, we have nowhere to begin.”
“Then this is how I see it,” Loethar said. “It is no longer an empire but a union. I will reinstate the old boundaries, the old names even, and the new union will include Droste and the Steppes. And if the Davarigons wish to join the union, they too are welcome,” he said with a nod to Elka. “There will no trade restrictions between the states. The Denovian union will be governed by someone I appoint but each state will have its own government to handle local issues.”
“How can we trust the person you appoint?” Kilt said.
“Easy,” Loethar said. “That person is you, Faris.”
“Me?” Kilt laughed. So did Jewd. “I’ve got a price on my head in Penraven.”
“That warrant was just torn up,” Loethar said, miming the action. “There is no one better to administer than you, Faris. Yes, I know that you are a man of the forest and an outlaw and a renegade and all of those unsavory things, but I was also the least suitable emperor and I made a good fist of it. You will too. While you have an allegiance to Penraven—which is fair enough—I have found you to be a man of ethics. You have a moral take on the world, Faris. You and Genevieve, with her sense of community and social order, will make excellent heads of the union. If you won’t agree to this, I won’t agree to paving the way.”
All eyes turned to Faris. “Why will the people agree to this?” he asked.
“Because I will persuade them and you will prove me right,” Loethar said. “I’m not suggesting it’s going to be easy but you’d be surprised how quickly a handsome couple with charm can work its way into people’s hearts. And it wouldn’t hurt to let everyone know that Genevieve is the Valisar daughter who escaped the barbarian invasion. Perhaps I could even give her away at your wedding—if I might be so bold,” he added, looking at Genevieve. “That would be a brave and special statement about new bonds between old foes.”
“Wedding?” everyone chorused.
“Yes, I’ll even throw the feast.”
All eyes turned again to Kilt. “Let me think on this.”
“Ach, Kilt. Just say yes, damn it. You’ve always liked to be in charge. Now you get to be in charge of lots of people,” Jewd said disdainfully.
“Well, Jewd, you’ll be there right alongside me, if that’s the case.”
“Wasn’t planning on being anywhere else,” Jewd remarked.
Loethar turned to Marth. “General, how do you feel about what I’ve suggested?”
Marth sighed. “After today, I think anything that brings peace, unites people, and gives us all a chance to return our old cities to their respective people can only be a great achievement.”
“Good, then you’ll be head of the new Barronese consulate.”
Marth nodded. “You trust me, then?”
“De Vis does. That’s good enough for me.”
It was Gavriel who turned to look at Piven, sitting at a table with a few of the younger Vested, grinning from ear to ear as they played a game of “knots,” taking turns threading wool around their fingers in complex shapes.
“And what about the other Valisar in the room?”
Greven answered. “He’s back to being the simple child and has been my son for the last ten anni and that hasn’t changed. We will carry on together. I thought I hated him but the darkness has gone and he’s healed, with the same easy smile and affectionate way that I remember about him when I found him.”
“Bring him to Brighthelm, Greven. It’s his home,” Loethar said.
“Maybe,” Greven said. “Maybe.”
Gavriel stood. “I think I’ll take some air too,” he said, excusing himself.
* * *
Outside he inhaled the cooler air; it was the first sign that summer was giving way and he was glad of this, given what was strewn about outside the gate. He didn’t want to think about the bodies, Corbel’s and Leo’s among them. The nuns had taken Valya and presumably her daughter to bury immediately. He wondered where Lily had disappeared to. She alone might understand his grief about Leo; she had practically raised him, after all. And she remained every bit as pretty and feisty as he remembered from ten anni ago.
He knew she’d spent years as Faris’s lover and then promptly married the quiet fellow he’d seen about the castle with Freath just before he and Leo had escaped. He knew she must be grieving the loss of her husband and Faris’s betrayal. But they were both hurting, both without anyone to hold or love. Why shouldn’t they find solace in each other?
“Psst! Gav!” came the voice in a whisper.
“Lily?” he murmured, looking around.
“Ssh,” she said, melting out of the shadows of the wall and pulling him toward her.
He thought for one marvelous, brilliant, impossible moment that she might kiss him but instead she pointed to a peephole. “Look.”
He did. It was a full moon and everywhere was flooded with a silvery, ghostly light. “What am I looking at?” he asked, trying not to notice the twisted, burned bodies.
“The carriage,” she breathed.
“Carriage.” He squinted, and saw movement. “Is that a person? Who?”
“It’s that snake, Vulpan. He’s hidden in it all day and is still too terrified to get out. Watch him, he keeps checking to see if anyone’s around.”
“Why are you interested?”
“I have my reasons to want him dead.”
“Dead?”
“Shh!” she said, pinching him. “He’s not worth the air he breathes, Gav. He is one very evil little man. He brought misery to the lives of the Vested.”
“Ah, the blood taster, is that him?”
“Yes. He’s the reason Kirin is dead, and the reason I faced Stracker’s blade. Frankly, if not for Piven’s well-timed arrival my head would be rotting in a basket somewhere too.”
He could hear the savagery even in her hissed whispers and looked out at the carriage again. “Well, your prey has found the courage to come out into the moonlight.”
She pushed him aside to look. “What a snake he is. He’s going to disappear and he doesn’t deserve to, Gavriel. He doesn’t deserve to not face justice.”
“Your justice?”
She glared at him. “Not just mine.”
He frowned. “Lily, you’re not going after him.”
“Watch me,” she said, and pulled a blade from her skirt pocket. “Oh, don’t worry, de Vis, I’m not going to kill him. I’m going to give him to the Vested. He’s one of them, you know. They can be the ones who mete justice.”
He grabbed her wrist. “It’s night,” he said.
She smiled. “Gavriel, I am a woman of the forest. The darkness holds far more fears for him than it does for me.”
“What about the others?”
She shrugged. “What about them? They don’t need me.”
“Not even your father?”
“He’ll be fine. He’s been through a lot and he needs private time to put away his inner horrors for good. Right now I would put my life against the notion that he’ll want to take care of Piven . . . almost like a penance. Together they’ll form a new sort of bond and I suspect they’ll be happy. He’s told me where he’ll head. I’ll find him again.” She turned to check the peephole. “Right, I’m going. I’m not going to lose him.”
He grabbed her again. “Lily, you can not go out there into the night alone.”
“Then, Gavriel de Vis,” she said with daring and no little defiance in her voice, “why don’t you come with me?”
He knew she wouldn’t ask again. He thought of all the reasons to stay, and there were many. And then he thought of all the reasons to go with her . . . and there was only one. But that one reason filled him with a sense of warmth and hope that he hadn’t felt in a long time.
“Why not. I’ve got nothing better to do on a moonlit night,” he replied and took her hand to lead her out of the convent.
Epilogue
Outside a hut on the western coast of Penraven, a man sat alone beneath the full moon, brooding.
He had said his goodbyes, and while there were many that he cared about there were only two that he truly loved; one was a man called Loethar, the other was a boy called Roddy. And it was his farewell to the boy that had been the hardest for Roddy hadn’t understood why they were embracing for the last time . . . why wouldn’t they see each other again, he had repeated, his face filled with perplexity.
Ravan hadn’t been able to give him a reason. Somewhere within himself he just knew his time was close. His role for the goddess was done and he had acquitted himself well as a companion, a spy, a messenger. At the end it had been Cormoran’s memories, after all, that had helped to solve the secret of the Valisar Legacy.
Secrets. He sighed. After all those secrets had been unravelled, he didn’t think one little one would be missed. He had told a lie to Loethar, and though he had hated doing so it had been asked of him by a much higher power.
She had visited him through the Qirin, in whom he had entrusted the secret for the hours that he had needed it hidden.
Must I? he had asked.
You must, the Qirin had assured.
And so he had said his farewells to Roddy, to Loethar, to the others. Roddy had asked where he was going but Ravan had only shrugged. “I will only know when I get there, Roddy.”
&nb
sp; It had been painful to leave but he had, clutching his secret, running as fast as his legs could go, faster than he had ever run before. He was faster than the wind, and on this moonlit night, he had sat and waited for her.
The tufty, ragged grass around him began to shudder and the sounds of the night fell strangely quiet as the moon seemed to turn golden and loom much larger than it had just moments ago. She was coming. Even the grass stilled and the air seemed to thicken.
And then she was there. Not huge and towering this time but matching his height. She was even more beautiful than he recalled from their last meeting. Her serpent body glittered beneath the golden moonlight, her voice was soft and mesmerizing.
“Hello, Ravan.”
“Goddess, you honor me with your presence.”
“And you have honored me with your loyalty.”
He bowed, moved by her praise.
“You have brought what I asked of you?”
“I have.” He reached down to the basket and picked up his gift.
“Ah,” she said as tenderly as a mother and sighed. “She is beautiful indeed,” she said, taking the baby and cradling her.
As she held Loethar’s infant daughter, the newborn squirmed, coming out of her stupor.
“I feared I was bringing you a corpse, goddess.”
“No, dear one. This tiny girl is our secret . . . our Valisar secret. I gave her the protection of the shroud of death.”
He frowned. “You were there?”
“I was. Piven felt me, when Valya was bargaining with him, but fortunately he just thought he was responding to one of his kin. I have never before intervened in the lives of the Valisars but this time we had two princesses and a set of circumstances we have never before encountered. I admit even I was taken by surprise to have a second princess survive. Whatever Valya was, she was worthy of the Valisars in secreting her child away. She drugged her, you know, for her confrontation with Piven. I have no doubt that she loved her and wanted to protect her.”
“So you did when she could not?”
The serpent nodded. “I could not let a defenseless Valisar princess die on the ground like that.” Cyrena smiled. “I kept her sleeping. It might have been wrong of me to weave the magic I did today but these were extraordinary circumstances. Whether I was right or wrong, it has been done.”
King’s Wrath Page 49
