by Jean Lorrah
Lenardo dived on the sword, rolled, lifted the weapon, and with both hands awkwardly thrust it at the lurching giant. The savage tried to swerve, stumbled, and fell on the blade. Lenardo thrust the heavy body off him and scrambled to his feet to face the oncoming savages. Pulling the sword from the giant’s body, he found it so heavy that he needed both hands to wield it. Five men were grouped before him, weapons at the ready. If Aradia did not wake now, there was no chance. But he would take some of them with him as he went to his own death.
“Aradia!” he shouted, Reading that she was deep in healing sleep. Not daring to let go the sword, he nudged her with his foot. “Aradia-wake up!”
The world exploded.
Lenardo was thrown head over heels, the explosion deafening him as he hit solid rock and collapsed, feeling the sharp pain of broken ribs. Unable to move, he Read the scene: Aradia groggily awake, what little strength the short sleep had restored spent in that defensive burst of energy; the five attackers sprawled as Lenardo was-but three of them already stirring. The other two were dead, one from having hit his head against the rock wall, the other gruesomely spilling his guts across the ground, his belly cut open by his own sword.
But the others were merely stunned, and they knew enough of Adepts to see that they still had a chance at Aradia. She could not even sit up-Lenardo Read clearly how hard she was trying.
One of the three climbed to his feet but fell back with a yelp of pain, nursing a broken ankle. The other two found their fallen weapons and advanced on the helpless Adept. Despite his pain, Lenardo bent for his sword and staggered toward the foe, dragging his weapon, then leaning on it as he faced them across Aradia’s body. Weakly, she whispered, “I can’t help you, Lenardo. Thank you��� for trying���” and fell back into unconsciousness.
The two savages had the strength to raise their weapons. Lenardo tugged at his, but with the pain of broken ribs he could do no more than drag the tip along the ground. He struggled to stand between them and Aradia, waiting for an ignominious death.
Suddenly the two men before Lenardo burst into flame! He lurched back, coming up against Aradia, realizing she had not done it-and without turning he Read Wulfston half running, half sliding down the steep rock face from above them. The searing pain and agonized screams of the two burning men cut off as they died, and Lenardo managed to gasp, “It’s about time you got here!” as he collapsed into Wulfston’s arms.
When Lenardo woke, his pain was gone, and he realized that what had wakened him was Wulfston’s touch on his forehead. “Don’t move!” the young Adept warned. “I haven’t healed you, just stopped the pain. Is Aradia injured or just exhausted?”
“Exhausted,” Lenardo replied.
“Yes-she must have used her last strength in that bolt to tell me where you were. We’re safe for the moment. Our own troops are defending the entrance, and only an Adept could come up and over as I did. How badly are you hurt?”
Lenardo quickly Read 4us own injuries. “Dozens of bruises, some strained muscles, and three broken ribs.”
“Show me.”
Again Lenardo felt the healing heat as Wulfston’s hands moved over his body. At his direction, the “ribs were brought back into place and given strength to hold so he could move. “I can’t let you sleep,” Wulfston apologized. -“Aradia must-I suppose she dared spend the last of her energy because she knew I was coming.”
“She didn’t know. It was my fault. I wasn’t Reading beyond right here, trying to fight off those savages. When I was outnumbered I tried to wake her-and forgot how. I’m afraid I��� kicked her.”
“And you quickly learned why there is only one safe way to wake an Adept!” Wulfston gave a humorless laugh. “Fortunately, she didn’t have the strength to kill you, and so the blow probably saved your life by telling me where you were. Do you think you can walk now? I need you to Read the battle for me.”
“We can’t just leave Aradia here!”
“Our own men are guarding the passage now. She’ll regain enough strength in an hour or two of sleep to get along until we can all rest safely.”
Once Wulfston, under Lenardo’s guidance, joined the battle from this side of the valley, with Lilith and her troops moving in from the other side, the fighting was soon over. Then Wulfston and Lilith directed Helmuth to take the rest of their army and proceed into Drakonius’ lands-Aradia’s lands now, by the law of the savages, for as long as she could hold them.
By this time, Wulfston was able to waken Aradia with a proper touch on the forehead. She smiled sleepily at him. “Wulfston��� my brother. You did come.” Then panic filled her eyes as memory returned. “Lenardo!”
“I’m here,” he said quickly. “Wulfston arrived just in time to save us both.”
“But I owe you my life several times over,” she said. “Both of you. Wulfston, you should have seen Lenardo fighting Drakonius’ men-he certainly told the truth when he said he could use a sword!”
“The gods were with me. Wulfston,” Lenardo added, “I notice you don’t wear a sword.”
“I’m an Adept,” the black man replied, and Lenardo realized that any time an Adept’s powers were so drained that he could not fight with them, he would be too weak to use conventional weapons.
Before they could return to Castle Nerius, there was still more to be done. The wounded had to be cared for, first their own, and then many more from the opposing army. Aradia insisted she was strong enough to help, and Lenardo Read astonishment among the opposing troops at being cared for instead of killed, and at Lenardo, a Reader, helping the Adepts to discover and heal their injuries. Did Drakonius never think to have Galen help him at healing?
The sun was up, the day promising to be the first really hot day of the summer. Aradia and Lilith doffed outer garments, and Lenardo stripped off his tabard, wishing for a cooler but more modest tunic. They were working with the last of the wounded now, the least serious injuries among the enemy troops. Lenardo Read someone watching him and turned to find Arkus, the officer he had encountered in Zendi. Despite his Adept talent, the man had received a sword wound through the shoulder. It was not serious-if it didn’t become infected, he would be good as new in two weeks. With Adept healing, a day or two.
“Can you not heal that yourself?” asked Lenardo as he knelt beside Arkus.
“Then you do remember me?’
“Certainly. You tried to entice me into Drakonius’ army and displayed Adept power. Why can’t you heal your shoulder?”
“I can move things, not heal. I’m not a Lord Adept, nor a Reader either. Would that I were-I’d never have let you leave Zendi had I known who you were. Drakonius’ message reached us too late, and we couldn’t find you again.”
“Now you have,” replied Lenardo, looking up as Lilith approached. She was beginning to show the effects of the night’s work. Her golden brown eyes appeared to have retreated into her face, completely circled by dark rings. Although she did not seem to be troubled by her. own injury, even her pale blue underdress was charred, one sleeve in tatters.
Arkus looked up at her. “You chose the right side, Lady Lilith.”
“No, captain,” she replied. “I remained with those to whom I had given my pledge, as did you. We have no quarrel now that the battle is done.” She turned to Lenardo. “A clean wound?”
“Yes, Lady.”
She touched Arkus’ shoulder, and Lenardo Read the dull throb of pain give way to healing fire. “There are many who must be carried,” Lilith said to Arkus. “I think you are well enough to walk to Castle Nerius, but if you grow weak or have pain, do not hesitate to ask for help.”
The young officer’s eyes spoke the incredulity Lenardo Read in him. “Why are you healing an army that has just opposed you?”
“An army is made up of men, captain, and men choose their loyalties. You are no longer bound by your oath to Drakonius, as he is dead. You commander-”
“Braccho is dead also,” said Arkus.
“T
hen at this moment you have no loyalties. You are the property of the Lady Aradia, but I think you will choose to become her sworn man.”
And what is my choice now? Lenardo wondered, knowing that he wanted to ally his efforts with these people who, instead of killing their enemies, healed them and turned them into friends.
The image of five charred bodies in a rocky canyon intruded on him-but that was self-defense. What else could they have done against Adept power? But oh, Galen, why did you have to fall into Drakonius’ hands?
He pulled his mind away from the thought. Galen was dead. Lenardo’s mission for the empire was complete.
And if he had managed to take Galen back? Once the senate knew that Galen had conspired with the enemy, what choice would they have had but to execute him?
Didn’t I know that all along?
Nerius had been right. The only way Lenardo could make the senate listen to him would be to approach them as Aradia’s emissary. There soon would be peace in all the lands along the border, the lands Drakonius had ruled. The time was right. As soon as Aradia had firm command of all the lands she had won, he would attempt to make a treaty with the empire. May it be the will of the gods that there never be another night of savage destruction like the one just past!
There was a mass funeral three days later for all the troops that had been killed in the battle��� and for Nerius. One gruesome report that Lenardo heard, but that was kept from most of the people, was that the men who went to collect the remains of those who had died in the rocky canyon found that scavengers had got at the bodies, and nothing was left but scattered bones.
It was a very long funeral, beginning early in the morning, for there were many dead to be eulogized. Lenardo was surprised when Aradia found something to say even for Hron, who had betrayed her. When it came to Nerius, every person there except the survivors of Drakonius’ troops had something to say. Lenardo had come to respect Aradia’s father on just a few days’ acquaintance; now he got a fuller picture of a strong, firm, honest, and entirely honorable man whose wrath was feared but who was deeply loved by his people.
Everyone was all in gray, and Lenardo noted that, as he had seen at the other funeral, no one wore any ornament.
Like Wulfston, he had hidden his wolf’s-head pendant inside his clothing once more.
Yet both Aradia and Wulfston wore the gold fillets across their foreheads-the mark of children of the Lord Adept.
Lenardo was one of the last to speak, for once in his life finding words would not come to express his feelings. He stumbled through somehow, unsurprised and unashamed at the tears coursing down his cheeks-tears for Nerius, but also for Galen.
The mourners formed several circles about the flat rock. When the speeches were over, there was silence-suddenly broken by a mournful howling. Everyone looked up in amazement, to see the white wolf atop a nearby hummock, howling as if he too grieved that the lord of the land was dead.
Finally all was silence. The wood was already piled over the bodies, and Aradia and Wulfston performed the ceremony of earth and water. Then both removed their gold fillets and laid them on the pyre.
Everyone backed off, for when the huge pyre went up in roaring flames the heat bombarded them in waves of physical pressure. As had happened before, every trace of the bodies was consumed, the fire died back, and all that was left was a skiff of ashes.
This time Lenardo found it difficult to be cheerful at the funeral feast. It was far too large a gathering for the great hall, and so the slope behind the castle, no longer grassy after being an army camp for days, became the scene of an immense picnic. Soon pipes were playing, and people began to dance, as Lenardo watched with increasing glum-ness.
Finally Aradia asked him, “What’s wrong, Lenardo?”
“I know it is your custom, but to me it seems completely wrong to-to celebrate Nerius’ death.”
“We celebrate his life!” she replied. “His life and ours. I am the child of Nerius’ body-his life is in me, and I celebrate that fact.”
“It all seems so pointless,” said Lenardo. “We worked so hard to save his life. He hadn’t even recovered his full health yet-and then he died. What was it for?”
“Perhaps the day of Nerius’ death was set in the stars,” Aradia said. “There are those who say it is-it could be that if we had done nothing to heal him, he would have died that same hour. Do you not think, had he been given the choice, Nerius would have preferred to die. defending his people rather than to sleep away helplessly?”
“I’m sure he would,” Lenardo agreed, but he could not shake off his mood.
“Lenardo,” said Aradia, “you should have spoken for Galen today.”
“No one spoke for Drakonius, although his soldiers were there.”
“I do not think any close friends were among those troops. They feel the loss of a leader, fear over what will happen to them now, but not the breaking of a personal bond of friendship, as you do.”
“That is why you spoke for Hron today?”
“Aye, and why Lilith did too. Hron was a weak man, but not an evil one. Speak for Galen now, Lenardo. Tell me what was best about him.”
The nervous, unpredictable, vengeful young man he had last Read was not the Galen Lenardo wanted to remember. He thought back to the boy as he had first known him. “He had intense enthusiasm. Each new lesson was a joy to him, and he made something I’d taught a hundred tunes fresh and new for me. He wanted to know everything at once, always eager to get on to the next lesson, the kind of student who breaks a teacher free of routine.”
As he spoke, he felt better. Aradia smiled at him. “Are you glad you knew him?”
“Yes.”
“Then celebrate that he lived, and that we all live yet to bring what good we can into the world.” She took a brimming goblet of wine from one of the tables, handing it to Lenardo. “Let us drink together in celebration of life.”
Lenardo took a sip, and Aradia took the goblet from him, raising it to her own lips and looking at him over the rim. When she had taken a swallow, she said, “You are free now, Lenardo. I have no more hold on you, the empire has none. All your promises are fulfilled. What will be your choice now?”
“I am a teacher.”
“Are you? I need someone to teach us all what your powers can do. Think about what my father said before you go back to obscurity in your academy.”
“Not at once,” he replied. “First the negotiations-”
“You have decided to try to convince the empire to negotiate with us?”
“Yes.”
“And what will become of you if you do, Lenardo? I care what happens to you. My people owe you their freedom. I owe you my life. At least accept my protection if you must return to the empire. If you go back unprotected, you will be accused of consorting with the enemy��� and this time the sentence will not be exile.”
“I accept your protection, Aradia. I will go as your emissary.”
A warm smile lit her eyes, and suddenly she put down the goblet and threw her arms around him, kissing him. He made no attempt to avoid it. The embrace was over too soon-it was only when he found himself wanting more that Lenardo became disturbed at his reaction.
But as Aradia broke free, unconcerned, Lenardo told himself firmly that the gesture meant nothing more to her than when she kissed Wulfston-a sisterly caress.
“Now come and dance with me,” said Aradia.
“I don’t know how,” said Lenardo. “In the girls’ academies, dance is taught as exercise, but the boys learn swordplay.”
So Aradia went off to find another partner, and Lenardo watched the dancing. He thought of the future, regretting that he would soon leave Castle Nerius until he recalled that he would be back-back and forth between here and Tiberium while the treaty was negotiated, and then And then��� what?
How could he consider anything but returning to an academy-wherever Master Clement was rebuilding? But Aradia wanted him here, and the treaty would include br
inging other Readers over the border, teaching them to work with Adepts. That would be his task, certainly! The idea pleased him.
They said he had changed. Lenardo had to agree: now that he saw all there was to do in the world, he would never again be satisfied to live apart from it. The academies were necessary, but so would be the liaison position he would hold. Best of both worlds, he thought, smiling to himself. You’re as bad as the Adepts: all you want is everything!
But it was in a cheerful mood that he left the celebration, returning to his room in the castle. It occurred to him that he ought to try to report back to the empire, to let Masters Clement and Portia know that Galen was dead. He thought he could reach Adigia from here-it was farther away than Drakonius’ stronghold, but he had spent most of his life there. Perhaps Master Clement was still there.
The stone castle was cooler than the night outside. Lenardo was the only one indoors, except for the cook’s staff bustling in and out lest anyone lack for one more bite of some delicacy.
He went up to his room, lay down, and left his body. He needed no landmarks to guide him to Adigia-a moment’s concentration and he was “there,” in his own room at the academy. The building was deserted. Unless he found a focus, he would have to retreat.
Reading through the town, though, he quickly found the active mind of the blind boy who was always Reading. Torio was in a room at the inn-safe enough now, as the innkeeper’s daughter had long since married and grown into a plump and proper matron with three children. If it was hot where Lenardo was, it was even hotter in Adigia, and Torio was sitting at the open window in his nightshirt, contemplating going down to sleep in the plot of grass around the fountain in the square, where a number of people had already gathered.
//Torio-//
//Master Lenardo!// The leap of joy in the boy’s mind was almost painful in its intensity. //Are you all right? At least you’re still alive.//
