The Warrior Returns: Far Kingdoms #4 (The Far Kingdoms)

by Allan Cole

  And I thought - You always were too quick, Novari. You really rush a girl, don’t you?

  But in Emilie’s high voice I said, “Why are you deading everyone, Novari?”

  The Lyre Bird’s smooth brow furrowed into a lovely frown of great concern.

  “You’ve been listening to my enemies too much,” she said. “I’m not... killing everyone. Only those who deserve it. And even then only when it becomes necessary.”

  My face suddenly pinched up and tears spilled out.

  “You deaded my father!” I accused.

  “And I’m so sorry that I did, sweetness,” Novari said, tears of sympathy welling in her own eyes. “I felt very cruel to hurt you so.

  “But I didn’t do it because I wanted to be mean. Novari isn’t mean. She doesn’t hurt things for pleasure. She hates to hurt people. But sometimes they make her hurt them.

  “And that makes her mad. Really, really mad.”

  Lower lip trembling, I said, “Were you mad at my father? Is that why you deaded him? And all the other Anteros.

  “Were you mad at them too?”

  “I suppose I was, Emilie dear,” she said. “I told you I can only speak the truth. Which means I sometimes have to admit things to myself that make me feel quite uncomfortable.”

  She sighed. “Such sorrow truth brings,” she said. “It’s a heavy burden. You have no idea.”

  “Why were you mad at them?” I asked. “What did they do to you?”

  “I don’t want to say bad things about your family, dearest,” Novari said. “But the truth is one of them tried to kill me long ago. Her name was Rali Antero. Your aunt, I believe.”

  I nodded. “I’ve heard stories about Aunt Rali,” I said. “She was a great warrior. And Evocator.”

  “That’s the very same Rali Antero,” Novari said with a bitter smile. “A hero to all.” Then quiet, “Even to me.”

  “Why did she try to deaded you?” I asked. “Were you mean to her? Were you mean to my Aunt Rali.”

  I was amazed when I heard Novari sob. I looked up and saw her struggling to answer. Sudden tears running down her cheeks.

  “Mean to her?” she said. “Why, I offered her everything. I loved her, Emilie. She was the strongest and the most beautiful woman I have ever met. Rali was so sure of herself. Completely confident. Even when I had her locked in the dungeon.”

  Novari shrugged. “That was because of a little mistake I made. And I don’t blame her for being angry about the mistake.” She waved, vague. “People were killed. Things like that. But I tried to atone for it.

  “I wanted to make her my queen. My equal.” She hesitated, then, “Well, almost equal. But close enough.

  “And all I asked was that she share her power with me. The power of the Anteros.”

  “If you were being so nice,” I asked, “why did my Aunt Rali say no?”

  The tears vanished and Novari became angry.

  “Because she was a fool,” she snarled. “A fool!

  “How could she spurn me - the Lyre Bird? I have suffered all the sorrows that women everywhere have suffered. Who could understand Rali’s pain more than me? How could she turn her back on my own womanly pain? I am the embodiment of all such suffering. She knew that. I told her everything, Emilie. Everything!

  “So she had no excuse.”

  She leaned closer, her perfume swirling all around me. And she said, “I am the creation of hundreds and hundreds of young girls just like you, Emilie. Girls who were degraded and tortured for the pleasure of evil men.

  She tapped her breast. “They’re all inside of me, Emilie. The souls of all those poor girls. And they weep all the time.

  “You can’t imagine what it’s like to hear them crying. Always crying. They’re crying now. But how can I let them out? And still be... the Lyre Bird?

  “So you deaded her,” I said, flat. “You deaded my Aunt Rali.”

  Novari calmed herself. Then she nodded.

  “Yes I did, Emilie. I killed her. But she tried to kill me twice. The second time she almost succeeded.”

  She shrugged. “I don’t die easily. I’m not even certain I can die. I suppose I’ll find out someday.”

  “You can live forever?” I asked, voice full of childish awe.

  “I think so,” Novari said. “And that’s what I’m offering you, Emilie. You can live forever too. And someday, when you grow up beautiful and strong, you can be my queen.”

  “If I say no,” I asked, “will you deaded me? Like you deaded Aunt Rali?”

  My question jolted her. She stared at me for a long time.

  Then she laughed, trying to make light of it, saying, “What a question for a pretty child to ask.”

  She rose and slipped onto the bench beside me.

  “You’re such a dear, Emilie.” Her eyes were wet. “So intelligent and perceptive.”

  Then she hugged me and I pressed my face against the softness of her bosom. Her fingers touched my hair in an absent caress.

  But when she answered I noticed she tried to slip around my question.

  “We’ll have lots of time to talk about things, sweetness,” she said. “You’re upset now. Worried about your friends. I don’t expect you to be convinced all at once.

  “And we’ll have all kinds of fun. I’ll show you some magical games you can play. And there’ll be all lots of clothes and toys and presents. More than any little girl could ever dream of.” Novari had never known such childish delights so there was a wistful edge to her tones.

  “And people will have to do what you say, Emilie,” she continued. “Because you’ll be a real little princess. Novari’s princess. And whatever Emilie commands, all will obey.”

  “Except you,” I pointed out.

  Novari laughed. “What a child!” she exclaimed. “Fired directly at the target.”

  She patted me. “We’re going to get along just fine, sweetness,” she said. “We’ll have a wonderful time. You’re going to love every minute of it.”

  “What if I don’t?” I asked.

  “Don’t what, my sweet?”

  “Love every minute of it?”

  Novari paused, then said low, “Then I’ll have to do without you, child. Like I had to do without your Aunt Rali.”

  So there was my answer.

  Circuitous as the route might have been, Novari had finally been forced to tell the truth.

  Suddenly I hugged her fiercely, saying, “I’ll be a good girl. I promise I will.” And I burst into tears.

  Unlike Novari, I could lie.

  She comforted me and made soothing noises. So I hugged her harder still, covering the sorcerous tendril I slipped out and sent sniffing into the Otherworlds. Searching for the little demon monkey I’d cast there..

  And I heard him close by:

  Chitter chit. Chitter chit.

  He’d broken through the Lyre Bird’s shield.

  Chitter chit. Chitter chit.

  I released him from the spell and he chittered wild joy and went scampering off into some monkey paradise.

  Then I loosened my embrace and squirmed in Novari’s lap if I were suddenly restless.

  She let me go and I leaped off and skipped toward the fountain and my mother’s shrine.

  “Where are you going, child?” she called, getting up to follow.

  “Over here,” I said. Which is answer enough for any child.

  I stopped at my mother’s shrine.

  “I used to play in this garden all the time,” I said as Novari came up, so light and graceful on her feet she seemed to float above the path.

  “I suppose you would have,” she said. “It was your home, after all. And now it’ll be your home again. But with me. And you can play here all you like.”

  “I used to play with Amalric and Halib,” I said. “They were my brothers.”

  Novari frowned. “How could you, Emilie? I don’t know who Halib was, but Amalric Antero was your great uncle. Not your brother.”

  I shrugged. �
��Maybe they were ghosts,” I said.

  I pointed at the shrine. “That’s my mother’s special place.” I pointed out the fountain. “And that’s her special fountain.”

  Novari grew impatient. “Come now. You know very well that shrine belongs to Emilie Antero, your great grandmother. That’s who you’re named for.

  “What game are playing, child?”

  “It’s no game,” I said. “It’s the truth.”

  Then I frowned. “Or maybe she was another ghost,” I said. “There’s lots of Antero ghosts.

  “Lots and lots of ghosts.”

  Then I turned away, taking the rolled up leaf from my cloak pocket. I unrolled it, hiding the splinter in my palm. Then I dipped the silver leaf into the water.

  It came up glittering and fresh as if it had just fallen from the branch. Glowing drops splattered on the pavement.

  I turned back to Novari, suddenly blushing and shy.

  “What’s that, Emilie?” Novari asked, indicating the sparkling leaf.

  I said, shy as I could, “A present. For you.”

  Novari looked pleased. “What a treat,” she said. “Your very first present to me.”

  But she hesitated, fingers inches away from the leaf.

  She examined it. “A silver leaf,” she finally said. “How pretty. Where did you get it?”

  “I grew it myself,” I said, proud. “I worked ever so hard growing it. Because to get a leaf you have to grow a tree first. And I had to water the tree every day for weeks and weeks and weeks and weeks.

  “And then a leaf got borned.”

  I held up a finger. “It’s the only one.”

  I pushed the leaf toward her.

  “You can have it if you want.”

  I shrugged, suddenly indifferent. “I can grow another any old time.”

  Her hand moved to the leaf.

  I had the splinter hidden beneath it and I gave a little push just as she touched - pricking her with the sharp point.

  “Ouch,” she said, snatching her hand back.

  She frowned at the speck of blood on her finger.

  “I’m sorry,” I said.

  I held out the splinter. “This was in my pocket, too,” I said. “It must’ve gotten stuck to the leaf.”

  “You should be more careful, Emilie,” Novari said, a bit angry.

  I felt my eyes fill with tears.

  “I didn’t mean to spoil the present,” I said, all a tremble. “You won’t get mad, will you?”

  An hysterical edge caught my voice. “You won’t deaded me, will you?

  “Just for a little mistake.”

  “Of course I won’t, child,” Novari said, impatient. “Here. Give me the leaf. I love the present. Thank you very much.

  “And then I’ll give you a present. And we’ll be the best of friends.”

  “Forever and ever,” I said.

  “Yes, dear. Now, give me the leaf.”

  I gave it to her, fumbling as I did so she’d touch it with her wounded finger and her sorcerous blood would mingle with the magic of the silver leaf.

  Novari howled as if she’d just plunged her hand into a vat of lye.

  She leaped away, flailing the air, trying to let loose of the leaf. But it had become molten, adhering and burning her with its sorcerous heat.

  “Get away, get away,” she screamed, shaking her hand furiously.

  Then she recovered wits enough for spell casting and shouted “Begone!”

  And the molten leaf vanished. But the skin on her hand was an angry red.

  She stormed over to me, anger searing the air with a heat as intense as the burning leaf.

  And I smelled the sulfurous poison of the killing spell she was forming in her mind.

  I pretended to cower but I was reaching for my own magical weapons. Senses finding and marking the weakness in her shield.

  “What did you do, Emilie?” she screamed. “What did you do?”

  The heavens were split by lightning.

  And the voice of a giant child called out.

  “EMILIE?

  YOU WANT EMILIE?

  WHERE, OH WHERE COULD SHE BE?”

  There was a giggle and the skies shimmered with the child’s amusement.

  And then she chanted:

  Emilie here.

  Emilie there.

  Emilie, Emilie everywhere.

  Up and down.

  All around.

  Better look out for

  Emilie, Emilie, EmilieEmilie.

  There was another blast of lightning and a great white cloud scudded into view.

  The cloud had Emilie’s face.

  Novari stared at me, then the cloud. Her mouth opened wide. It was the first time I’d ever seen her features be less than perfectly composed.

  And then we heard:

  “EMILIESAYS STOP!”

  The sky seemed to crack. First a long jagged thread splintered the blue. Then other threads formed. Faster and faster.

  And then they shattered and pieces of blue sky and bright yellow sun fluttered down from bleak winter heavens.

  A harsh wind swept through the garden. Flower heads froze to their stems. Insects fell to the ground. The water in the fountain popped and cracked, then froze in midair.

  And the gray one-eyed cat squalled and ran for shelter.

  Then, echoing from far off Galana, I could hear the strains of music coming from Novari’s great lyre machine.

  But it wasn’t Novari playing.

  A child’s voice accompanied the music, singing a merry tune:

  Emilie here.

  Emilie there.

  Emilie, Emilie everywhere.

  Up and down.

  All around.

  Better look out for

  Emilie, Emilie, EmilieEmilie.

  Then it began to snow. Light glittering flakes drifting down from the cloud and swirling all around us.

  I took a step toward Novari. My heavy soldier’s boots crunching the snow.

  Novari stared at me, features clotted with surprised disbelief.

  I was tall and strong now. A mailed warrior woman with a pirate’s patch, a single fierce eye and an golden hand glowing with power.

  And in that hand I held a silver spear, the transformed splinter from my ship.

  “Rali!” she said.

  I saw emotions at war on her face. The surprise dissolved in anger and the anger became hate. And then hate was routed and a strange soft light played about her.

  And she said, soft and low and yes, even with a touch of love:

  “Rali...”

  I’d thought of this moment many times. I’d seen the confrontation in countless dreams. And in rolling seas and billowy skies as I sailed from the ends of the world itself for this meeting.

  There were a thousand things I wanted to say. Had said in those imaginary meetings. All were wounding. All were hateful.

  But now when I finally did face her the hate was gone.

  It surprised me.

  Then Novari nodded. An understanding passed between us.

  And she said again, flat, “Rali.”

  I parted my lips as if to speak. A smile twitched at the edge of her lips and she leaned slightly toward me to hear my first words.

  But I didn’t speak.

  Instead I hurled the spear.

  My etherhand hand gave the spear such force that its rush through the air was an explosion that wracked the ears.

  Novari flung up her arm to strike it down. But I guided the spear with my ethereye, driving through her spell and striking deep into the wound in her shield.

  I willed it to go deeper and deeper, piercing all the way through until it found the magical heart of her.

  Novari was flung across the garden, clutching her breast and screaming in pain. She fell on the snow, staining it with her blood.

  She screamed again and I was rushing forward.