Blood of the Falcon, Volume 2 (The Falcons Saga)

by Ellyn, Court

The Lady herself remained above the tensions roiling in the Hall. She sat on her throne in a gown of iridescent white, which symbolized her clarity of thought. Her ankle-length hair was bound in an intricate coif that had taken Lyrienn three hours to complete. Her hands lay folded in her lap, and her expression was as serene as the face of Thyrra.

  A member of the Moon Guard approached her and with a jab of his finger said, “If you’ll pardon me, Lady, he should not be allowed here.”

  As if Kieryn didn’t feel out of place already, he noticed that others shared the dardrani’s opinion. It took all his courage to stand his ground.

  Aerdria’s black eyebrow peaked. “Why not, Maliel?”

  “He is avedra,” the dardrani whispered, as if Kieryn had some unspeakable disease that Aerdria didn’t know about.

  “Oh?” she replied. “You mean he’s capable of hearing the thoughts of both men and Elarion.”

  The three blue stripes below Maliel’s eye twitched. “Among other things.”

  “Do you suppose Lothiar hides a truth from us? Or are you?”

  Maliel glanced at Kieryn with a gulp. He was sorely tempted to open a channel and glimpse the secrets flitting across the Elari’s brain. At last, Maliel bowed and said, “You know best, Lady.”

  The dardrani resumed his place among his brethren, and Aerdria quieted the court. In Elaran, she called, “Enter, the accused.” The translator assigned to Kieryn whispered in his ear.

  After tedious, long moments, Laniel Falconeye appeared between the towering doors. Not a spark of laughter remained in his eyes or teased his mouth. With him came the dungeon guards and Lothiar between them. He appeared so proud and indomitable that one might nearly overlook the chains that bound his wrists and shortened his stride. “Baernavë,” Lyrienn whispered. Kieryn questioned her with a glance. “Steel forged with a spell,” she explained. “Forbids the wearer to perform magic of any kind.”

  Lothiar shuffled into the Hall, unhurried, his flat gray eyes raking the court; they flicked across Kieryn as though he were no more than a speck on the wall.

  Laniel bowed before the dais, then joined his sister. Lyrienn took his hand, but Laniel stood at attention and blinked not an eyelash toward her or Kieryn. Such sorrow in his face, as if he couldn’t accept what was happening.

  Lothiar didn’t bother with a bow. He was done with games, masks, lies. Aerdria regarded him a long while in silence; this, whom she had trusted most of all with her safety and the safety of her people. At last, Lothiar proved unable to hold her gaze.

  “For formality’s sake,” Aerdria began, “the offenses must be read.” A scribe placed a scroll in her hand. She unrolled it and recited, “Lothiar, eldest son of Danyth and Le’avhan, Captain of the Dardra, is accused of summoning the most dangerous entity in all the Realms of Divine, Magic, and Flesh, the accursed rágazeth, for purposes uncertain. Moreover, because the rágazeth was under his authority, this court and the Lady of Avidanyth hold Lothiar responsible for the deaths of one hundred and twenty-three Elarion of this city and seven more beyond Linndun’s gates.”

  Lothiar’s face remained stone; he seemed almost bored by the proceedings.

  Aerdria rolled up the scroll and concluded, “To support this charge, Lieutenant Cheriam will tell the court what she witnessed concerning the incident.”

  The fair, willowy dardrani glanced uneasily at the guardians on her left and on her right, then stepped from the semicircle to stand beside the throne.

  “Traitor,” someone hissed. The word reverberated through the Moon Hall, but instead of cowering the lieutenant, the accusation emboldened her. She glared at Lothiar and declared, “The Lady sent me to fetch the captain, whereupon I searched the barracks and found the captain in his chamber, consorting with the Demon. I arrested him on the spot, and the Demon fled.”

  Aerdria bade her stand down. “The accused may now speak in his defense.”

  “And say what?” Lothiar replied. “That Cheriam is mistaken? That she lies? We all know she speaks the truth.”

  Aerdria drew herself up. “Then tell me something I don’t know. Why did you risk everything to summon this evil? Was your purpose blind destruction as nearly overcame our city?”

  “Had Cheriam not intruded, only one would be dead.”

  “Which one?”

  “The Son of Ilswythe.”

  He admitted it so matter-of-factly that Kieryn’s skin crawled.

  “Why Kieryn?” Aerdria asked, the cry of her broken heart in the words.

  Lothiar smirked. “That doesn’t really matter, does it.”

  “No. You’re right. More important is how.” She held out her palm. A scribe placed a tiny object in her hand, and she displayed it for the court to see. A black bit of twisted metal, the broken link of a chain. “I found it some days ago, though I didn’t understand what I had found. Can you guess where I found it, Captain?”

  Silence.

  “I found it in the vault of the Dark Tomes.”

  Unease rustled through the court.

  “It wasn’t until the rágazeth was loose among us that I realized what this little thing was. It’s part of a chain that I ordered made to seal the Tome of Sigils.”

  “Ah, Dorreah, sahvilë h’eran!” cried one of the councilors. Goddess, save us! Others murmured to themselves; they were well aware of the awesome power contained in the pages of that single, fabled tome.

  “Does it frighten you?” she asked them. “It should. More frightening is this: the Tome of Sigils is missing.”

  Outcries echoed through the Hall. With a gesture Aerdria quieted them. She descended the dais, and standing on a level with Lothiar, she asked, “Where is the tome?”

  He leaned a fraction closer and whispered, “Why would I tell you?”

  Aerdria’s lavender eyes narrowed; she was reining in a great rage. The straining of her voice revealed that plain enough: “When your bones are dust, Lothiar, the rest of us must go on living, and I would know that my people are safe. Where have you hidden it?”

  He will never tell, Kieryn told himself and decided that now was his chance to ease Aerdria’s burden. He sent out his avedra ears, to catch some wisp of the truth now that the tome must be foremost in Lothiar’s thoughts. But the prisoner’s mind was locked as tightly as any coffer of gold. All Kieryn detected was a misty, gray wall of sorts. Some kind of mental warding spell, perhaps. He must’ve anticipated Kieryn’s attempt to peer into his thoughts. Very well. If he could get nothing out of Lothiar’s brain, perhaps he could put something in.

  How can you break her heart like this?

  Lothiar winced as if a fork scraped a metal plate. His hand shot to his ear.

  You endanger your people. Do you want to hurt them?

  Lothiar lunged for Kieryn, but his guards regained their hold on his chains and hauled him back. Laniel pushed Lyrienn behind him and threw a protective arm across Kieryn. “Keep your tricks out of my head, avedra,” Lothiar roared. “You say I endanger my people, when everything I do is for the good of my kind. My kind, never yours, you filthy cur.”

  Kieryn eased out from behind Laniel’s protective arm; no longer would he be viewed as a timid youth, but an avedra who had come into his own. His blue Elaran eyes glared into Lothiar’s, daring him to lunge again so he could turn him to kindling. And then Kieryn turned away, as if the prisoner were too great a shame to look upon.

  “You judge me? You tainted bit of flesh, you who belong neither to us nor to them.” He spat at Kieryn’s feet.

  “Lothiar!” Aerdria cried, and his head swung around. “You will look on me.”

  “A time for change is coming!” he declared. “I will shout it from the towers. His kind, humankind, they will pass away in ash and blood, and ravens will roost in the halls of their kings!”

  “You would see us caught up in another war?” Aerdria asked, horrified. “When we have lost so much, when we are so few? When I have done everything to protect what remains of our people, of our freedom, you would s
ee us undone.”

  “Undone? No! But masters once again of everything that belonged to us. You call our way of life freedom? You have settled for defeat, for hiding from the light of day. If your way prevails, we will perish.”

  Aerdria bowed her head and slowly climbed the steps to her throne. But she did not sit. “Now we know,” she said heavily. “All your rage and your shame, Lothiar, is expressed in your summoning of this evil and setting it loose on an innocent boy’s trail. Such an act should’ve been beneath you, but your hatred has twisted you and corrupted your better judgment. It has seduced you into betraying the goodness in all living things—Elari, duinovë, avedra, and everything higher and more simple. As your hatred led you to destroy, so it has led you to your destruction. I find you guilty of these charges, and I pass the only sentence that is fitting. As your actions have led to the loss of many lives, you lose your own.”

  Lyrienn whimpered, and Laniel held her close.

  Aerdria extended her hands and said, “As I bestowed upon you the stripes of distinction in your dignity, so now I remove them in your shame.” A pale blue glow hovered around her hands, and the marks of Lothiar’s rank slowly faded from his pearlescent skin. Then the Lady concluded, “Upon the setting of this sun, you, Lothiar, eldest of Danyth and Le’avhan, will be taken outside the palace walls to the Square of Justice, and there in the sight of all your people, your lifelight will be extinguished forever.”

  ~~~~

  Kieryn waited for sunset in the Lady’s garden. He felt little sense of relief after Lothiar’s sentencing. Sorrow and anger swirled over the city like a storm. From onlookers on the bridge, he had heard, “Give us the avedra!” Others, obedient to the Lady’s wishes, did not open their mouths against him, but their minds flung ugly accusation his direction. He didn’t have to pry to hear their thoughts; they fully intended for him to hear.

  Maliel demonstrated this hostility best. As soon as Aerdria had dismissed the court, he’d approached Laniel and Lyrienn and exclaimed, “Fight the Lady’s sentence, Captain! You know your brother would never have committed this offense had the avedrin not provoked him.”

  “Yet he chose this path, Maliel,” Laniel retorted, “and this is where it ends. Be careful you do not walk it with him.”

  All afternoon, other Elarion waited in the gardens but steered well clear of Kieryn, either out of contempt or suspicion or plain disregard. There was no coldness that surpassed a sharp, scrutinizing Elaran eye. Kieryn decided that this was his last foray into the Wood. However Zellel might argue, returning would be unwise. He would miss Laniel and Lyrienn and Aerdria, but surely they would understand. Rhoslyn would be happy, in any case. She resented his frequent and prolonged absences. Her stiff-jawed silence on the eves of his departures told him that much, as did her emotional outpourings on his return. But no longer. Once he returned to Windhaven, he resolved not to leave Rhoslyn’s side again.

  The sunlight slid up the palace walls, lit the crystal roofs as brightly as the Beacon Tower, and flared in the tops of the reddening andyr trees. Sunset approached; the Elarion waiting in the darkening gardens meandered back toward the palace. Kieryn followed. He saw Lyrienn hurrying along the paths toward them. Her brethren stopped to offer their condolences, but she pressed through them and took Kieryn aside. Her gray eyes as liquid as the waters rushing around the island, she whispered, “Aerdria has invited you to ride alongside her to the square, if you’re determined to see this to its end. But she prefers that you leave the city while everyone is focused on Lothiar. She fears what the mob may do to you.”

  Kieryn couldn’t have asked for stronger confirmation. He nodded sadly. “I’ll get my things.” Trudging after her along the cobbled paths, he decided Lothiar was right: he didn’t belong anywhere. Not among humans, not among Elarion. He created ugly uncertain ripples wherever he went. And what business did he have marrying a duchess? Rhoslyn and Halayn had emphasized Rhoslyn’s betrothed as “a lord of Ilswythe,” not wanting to remind their people that he was avedra, too. But the people would remember. What then? They would come to distrust their duchess because of him. When he first came to Windhaven, Zellel had asked him, “Will you learn to hide it or to be it?” He didn’t have an answer then. Now he did. For Rhoslyn’s sake, he would bury the avedra inside him, live as her consort, change Windhaven’s library into something he could be proud of, and … and then what? He stopped under the gate to the Crescent Courtyard, reached for the stone archway. He couldn’t breathe. He felt as if he paced a cage, one that was shrinking fast.

  “Kieryn?” Lyrienn hurried back along the path to him. “You look ill. Are you all right?”

  He considered lying. “No. No, I’m not.”

  Her hands drooped heavily at her sides. “We’ll never see you again, will we?”

  From around the bend in the courtyard came the sound of shouting and scuffling, panic and outrage. Lyrienn clenched his sleeve. “The mob got across the bridge. Go into the palace. Please.”

  Hide in another cage? Kieryn brushed her aside and ran into the courtyard. She ran to keep up. They didn’t find a mob coming to tear him to pieces, but Laniel calling to his troop. The commander of the regulars gave a call to arms and soldiers formed up in tight brigades.

  Lyrienn grabbed her brother’s arm. “What has happened?”

  “Lothiar is gone,” he said. “We’re to find him before he gets too far.”

  “But how?” Lyrienn cried. “Weren’t you with him?”

  “I was in council with Aerdria. She wanted me to decide what we should do with Lothiar’s … after…. We went to the dungeons to see him escorted out, but his cell was wide open and his guards dead, their throats slit.”

  “I’m going with you,” she insisted.

  “The hell you are! Kieryn, keep her here.”

  Lyrienn glared, as if moments before she’d not been sorry to see him leave Linndun forever.

  “Look, I’m no happier about this than you are,” Kieryn exclaimed. “Lothiar is lurking somewhere waiting for the chance to slit my throat.”

  The regulars dispersed into the city, and Laniel told his troop, “We’ll search the north woods.”

  Aerdria called from the palace door, “Captain! You will stay in the palace with me. Nyria will lead your troop.”

  “But I was with you!” he insisted.

  The Lady said nothing more. She no longer trusted anyone.

  ~~~~

  The next morning neither the Guardians of the Wood nor the regulars had located the fugitive. Though Laniel interrogated Nyria, she confessed over and over again that she had seen no sign of Lothiar, neither track nor hair nor broken leaf. If someone was hiding him, they weren’t talking.

  Aerdria resorted to seeking him in her scrying pool. The image reflected was one of blackness. So Lothiar was alive; he was hiding in a lightless room. The Lady ordered her soldiers to look again, to find every hidden vault and passageway in the city. The people protested, but she did not relent. Still the search turned up nothing.

  “What happens if you do not find him?” Kieryn asked. He sat with Aerdria in her parlor. On the table, wine, tea, and food had barely been touched.

  Aerdria sighed, her first gesture in over an hour. “I fear that any human or avedra who crosses his path will be in danger. And don’t fool yourself. You will have to be on your guard.

  “For how long?”

  Aerdria replied with a baleful turn of the lips. If Lothiar’s life followed a normal course, he would long outlive Kieryn. Yes, he would be looking over his shoulder until the day he died.

  The city was full of Elarion who would gladly finish Lothiar’s task for him; Kieryn would find no refuge from danger here. Besides, his own brother awaited his return. Better to go now while Lothiar was laying low. The following day, he asked Aerdria for leave to depart.

  “You now feel as if you cannot come and go freely?” she asked.

  When he had no answer, Aerdria laid a hand to his shoulder and said, “You are st
ill a friend here. The gates will open for you whenever you come or go.”

  He gathered his things, and Aerdria accompanied him to the courtyard. Sarvana was waiting for him. “I’ll keep her only if I trade for her,” Kieryn said. He untied a flat, heavy bundle from the saddle, unwound the linen wrapping, and Aerdria cried, “Amanthia’s harp!”

  Elarion across the courtyard saw the tarnished old thing glinting in the sunlight and began muttering. Tales of this harp’s music filled many a sad ballad. The loss of the harp and its player, the builder of Linndun, represented their greatest defeat, their deepest sorrow, and the end of their freedom. The whispers spread into the Palace, beyond the walls to the bridges, and across the river to the city. “The avedra returns Amanthia’s harp …”

  Sharp Elaran ears heard also Kieryn’s explanation: “My mother wanted to return it to its people. She said she hoped it would be seen as a gesture of peace between her house and yours.” Alovi’s hope seemed an impossible one now.

  Aerdria took the harp and cradled it to her chest as if it were her sister returned from the beyond.

  “It was dusty and tarnished,” he added, “but I cleaned it up some, and the strings will need to be replaced—”

  Aerdria’s free arm encircled his neck. “You have no idea of the good you have done.”

  Kieryn backed away, bewildered; he hadn’t considered the harp’s return such a significant matter. “I might’ve brought it at the worst of times, but …”

  “The worst of times is the best time to give people hope.”

  With the rest of the Wood’s guardians searching for Lothiar, only Laniel was left to escort Kieryn through the city. Walking alongside his friend and leading Sarvana, Kieryn noted the curious stares of the Elarion stationed on the bridge, then of those along the thoroughfare. There was not a hostile face among them. Startled, perhaps, even confused, but not hostile. A pair of youngsters skipped along behind singing, “Er kaereth vaniv, er kaereth chadiv tav fann er Ana’d luas”—“The harp sings, the harp brings joy to the Mother’s ear.”