Artesans of Albia: 02 - King's Champion

by Cas Peace

  Once accustomed to the darkness, she walked round the end of the hut toward the barn and corral. She could hear the soft chewing of the horses and smell the grain and hay. Entering the barn, she saw a shadowy figure seated on a pile of straw.

  The Count glanced at her but didn’t speak as she sat beside him. A moonbeam lanced into the barn, lighting his alien eyes. Rienne shuddered. If she ignored those catlike pupils she could deal with him as she would an Albian, but if she dwelled on them too long, his differences became an almost physical barrier.

  He sensed her unease and ducked his head. “I’m sorry if my appearance frightens you.”

  “Oh, it’s not that.” She was annoyed she had betrayed her discomfort. “It’s just that I’m not used to all this. I’m only a healer. I’m not gifted like the others, and I’ve never done anything like this before. I’m a bit out of my depth.”

  He smiled. “I’d never have known.”

  It was her turn to feel awkward. She picked at a piece of straw, wondering how to ask her question. “Have you ever been to Albia?”

  He raised an eyebrow. “Once. That was when I first met Sullyan.”

  “What happened? That is ... I don’t mean to pry. You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to.”

  The Count looked down at his hands. In the uncertain moonlight she could see they were strong and long-fingered, a swordsman’s hands, brown from the sun and nicked by old sword cuts.

  He sighed. “It was six or seven years ago, just after I inherited my father’s lands. I was young, naïve, eager to begin my life as a noble. But my father wasn’t wealthy and my Artesan gift is weak, so the only options for improving my fortune or status were to either marry into a wealthy family or win power by conquest.

  “The first was out of the question, because no noble Andaryan family would look at a lowly Count with such feeble Artesan talents.” He snorted. “Lords want to marry their daughters to men who will strengthen their bloodline, not weaken it. So I thought that if I could gain a reputation for good generalship by organizing successful raids beyond the Veils, some high-born noble might offer me a military position which would increase my status.”

  He shook his head. “I should have known better. I should at least have chosen another realm to raid. But I was cocky then—before I realized how hopeless it all was—and I thought Albia was the best place to start. And so it might have been, had I not run straight into that unique young woman in there.”

  Rienne was fascinated and smiled, encouraging him to continue. He stared out the barn door and she could almost taste the embarrassment and frustration of the younger man he had been, so keen to prove himself.

  “It was sheer bad luck, really, because I don’t have anything like the power necessary to direct a portway. I only just managed to keep it open long enough to get all my men through. Of all the places we could have emerged, fate had to pick an area patrolled by Sullyan’s company. Later, I learned that it was her first time out as company leader, and that she’d just recently become a Master Artesan. Anyone else and I might have achieved the result I was after. Why did fate throw me into her path?

  “Anyway, her scouts saw us and she gave chase, quickly blocking my way back through the Veils. I wasn’t too worried by that. I might not have much Artesan power, but I am a capable swordsman. Our numbers were about equal and her men were led by a woman. What did I have to fear?”

  Seeing Rienne’s raised brows, he said, “You may have heard that Andaryan women don’t bear arms, and neither can they influence their metaforce. I’d never met anyone like Sullyan. What was I supposed to think? Naturally, I ordered my men to fight. None of them would engage her because she was only a girl, but she wasn’t interested in them. No, she came straight for me. All I saw was a slim young woman holding a ridiculously large sword and—as I thought—an ego to match. My men thought I was mad accepting her challenge, but I intended to disarm her, show off my skill, and teach her the price of her folly. Hah, folly!”

  He pursed his lips. “The folly was mine. I barely had time to raise my sword before she sent it spinning from my hand. She even had the gall to offer it back again, saying it wasn’t a fair duel as I obviously wasn’t ready. But there was no point me trying again. I’d already lost face with my men. It was clearly hopeless, so I surrendered.”

  Staring at the ground, he sighed again. “Another company had arrived by then, drawn by the noise of combat. Their commander wanted to kill us all for breaking the Pact, but Sullyan said we were free to return. I was bound by the terms of my surrender, and she plainly knew our customs. She knew I couldn’t challenge her again. She spared our lives, but I was forced to endure the laughter of my men for being defeated by a woman.

  “A few days after, I received a message requesting safe passage for the Albian King’s ambassador. To my amazement, it was Sullyan who arrived at my door, and that was the beginning of our friendship.”

  He fell silent. Rienne said nothing, digesting the story, thinking what an extraordinary life Sullyan had led. She only belatedly remembered the younger woman’s earlier pain and panic. “So what was all that about in there, just now?”

  Marik started as if he had forgotten she was there. “Oh. I ... I don’t really know.”

  The lie was plain. “Come now, Count. I’m not stupid, but I am a healer, remember? It’s something Rykan has done to her, isn’t it? Tell me. I really need to know if I’m going to be able to help her.”

  He shook his head. “You can’t—”

  Cal’s voice cut across the Count’s and Rienne jumped. She heard the note of fear as Cal called her name again, and hurried out of the barn. “I’m here.”

  “There you are,” he said. “Sullyan’s asking for you. You too, Count.”

  “Me?” Marik frowned. “What does she want me for?”

  Cal shrugged. “You’d better come and see.”

  Rienne entered the hut, followed by Marik. As she blinked in the firelight, the smells of food and fellan hit her like a delicious wave, making her abruptly aware of how hungry she was. The fear and exertion of the last two days had thrown her body rhythms completely out. It must have been getting on for midnight, but she was ravenous.

  The others had already started on the food. Bull passed her a mug of fellan and she sipped the scalding liquid gratefully. He also passed one to Marik, who seemed startled at being included. From his place on the bed, Sullyan cradled against him, Robin watched the Count suspiciously.

  Rienne approached the bed and kneeled on the floor. Placing her mug beside her, she took one of Sullyan’s cold hands. The Major stirred and glanced at her, smiling faintly.

  “Ah, Rienne, there you are. I wanted to thank you for what you have done. You put your life at risk to save me.”

  Rienne shook her head. “I don’t need your thanks. I’m just relieved you’re still with us. I don’t think I’d have survived what you’ve been through.”

  A brief flicker of pain crossed Sullyan’s face. “You have done so much already. I hesitate to ask more of you. I know how tired you must be.”

  Rienne squeezed her hand. “What do you need? Is it to do with what afflicted you earlier? You were in such pain ....”

  Sullyan shook her head, her tumbled hair rippling over Robin’s arms. “Rienne, I have to be able to ride. We cannot stay here much longer. We are too vulnerable this close to Rykan’s palace. But it will take me too long to recover my strength naturally. I am far too weak.”

  Robin interrupted. “We just need to get you strong enough to cross the Veils. Once we get you home, you can rest and recover properly.”

  The anguish that filled Sullyan’s face dismayed Rienne. Tears welled in her eyes, and she was about to say something when the Major glanced warningly at her. Then Sullyan took a deep breath.

  “Robin, I need you to take control of a Powersink. Everyone is drained and exhausted, so you must take over my powers too.”

  Robin gasped and Bull sucked in a sharp breath. Rienne s
aw his amazed expression.

  Sullyan ignored both. “Will you be strong enough?” she asked.

  Robin seemed stunned and answered haltingly. “I’ll be strong enough, trust me.”

  Confused, Rienne glanced at Bull, who shook his head and smiled at her. “She’s just casually handed Robin what she nearly killed herself denying Rykan,” he explained.

  Sullyan frowned. “This is quite different, Bulldog, as well you know. And Robin would never ask.”

  The Captain was actually trembling. “Are you quite sure?”

  She looked up into his indigo eyes. “I trust you with my life and all that I have. You should know that.” Robin briefly closed his eyes, and Rienne felt as if her heart would burst. Sullyan’s next words jolted her. “But I want Rienne to do the healing.”

  “What? But how ...? I can’t ....”

  Sullyan squeezed her hand. “You can. Just think of the power as a medical instrument or a potent salve. I will guide you. Just open your mind and think of what needs to be done. Robin, you must go very gently with the power. This will feel very strange to Rienne.”

  She glanced over to where Marik was loitering by the door, looking distinctly uncomfortable. Her voice was husky as she asked, “Count, will you join us? I need your power too.”

  His melancholy expression brightened and he took a step forward.

  Robin’s face flushed. “What do you want him for?” he spat, and Marik fell back as if slapped.

  Sullyan’s raspy reply was barely audible. “Oh, Robin. I owe my life to Marik as much as I do to you. I can never repay him for his care, and he has lost his livelihood because of me. If you love me, then you owe him your gratitude at the very least, not this jealous and angry suspicion.”

  Robin’s color deepened and Rienne knew the charge of jealousy was very near the mark. His anger at Marik had its roots in his guilt at not being there when Sullyan needed him most.

  “But it was his fault that you were taken in the first place!” he said. “He stood by and watched what that ... that animal ... was doing to you and made never a move to stop him.”

  Sullyan’s face, grey as it was, paled further. Rienne could see her gathering nonexistent strength to lash out at Robin, but Bull put a hand on her shoulder.

  “Enough,” he said. “Leave it, Robin. Isn’t it enough that Marik saved her life? If Sully doesn’t blame him, how can you? You weren’t there, you don’t know what happened. Make your peace, lad.”

  “Thank you, Bull,” murmured Sullyan. Rienne was relieved. Fighting with Robin was an exertion the Major could do without.

  Robin looked silently between Sullyan and Marik before letting his breath out in a huge sigh. “I’m sorry, Marik. I’m upset and jealous and I shouldn’t have said what I did. Of course I’m grateful that you helped Sullyan, and I know we probably wouldn’t have got her out without you. Please accept my apology.”

  The Count waved an awkward hand. “No need,” he said, but he didn’t sound convinced.

  Sullyan lay back in Robin’s arms. “Can you concentrate now?” she asked, closing her eyes. “I need to clear my mind. Can I trust you to accept Marik’s place in the structure?”

  “Yes,” soothed Robin. “I’m sorry. I’m ready now.”

  Rienne couldn’t help feeling apprehensive. The extraordinary experience of being able to comfort Sullyan’s damaged spirit had seemed so natural. It wasn’t something she had planned to do or even thought about, it had just happened; she had instinctively known what to do. This was completely different. She didn’t have the faintest idea how it would work, and she didn’t want to let Sullyan down.

  “What do you want me to do?” she asked.

  Eyes still closed, the younger woman said, “Take my hand and hold it fast. I will not be able to reach you if you let go. Just close your eyes and let me guide you.”

  Rienne did so. Without the distraction of sight, her other senses came alive, heightened beyond anything she had ever known. She felt the others as they came into the structure Robin was forming, even recognizing Marik’s alien psyche. She felt as if she was floating above herself, cushioned on a swirling cloud of ever-changing colors. And then she heard Sullyan’s voice in her mind, surprised that the mental tones were as warm and lilting as her physical voice had been before her ordeal.

  Rienne? Concentrate on me now. You know where the worst hurts are. You cannot completely heal them, but you can close the flesh and strengthen muscles and tendons. Begin with the lesser wounds.

  Suddenly, Rienne could sense the various places where she had stitched Sullyan’s skin. Without even thinking, she used the deep amber power Robin held out to her to meld the flesh and make it strong. Energy seemed to flow over and around Sullyan’s body, doing whatever Rienne commanded, and she felt vaguely intoxicated, as if she could heal the world.

  Robin, warned Sullyan, hold back. You are giving her too much. Remember whose power you are handling.

  Rienne felt some of the force draining away and could almost have cried for the loss. Sullyan’s voice brought her attention back. Rienne, I need you to deal with the ribs now. Can you see, two are broken and one is cracked? Seal the cracked one first, it needs no moving.

  Rienne did so, sealing the cracked bone easily before turning her attention to the broken ones. She felt Robin preparing to use the power to dull the inevitable pain, but Sullyan stopped him.

  No, Robin, I need to feel where the ends are to ensure they align correctly. Go ahead, Rienne.

  Rienne could sense the sweat standing out on Sullyan’s face as she fought not to cry out at the pain of the broken bones being set. She was gasping for breath when Rienne finished. These physical hurts attended to, Rienne was about to open her eyes when something caught her attention. Deep within Sullyan’s soul she sensed a site of great damage and poison. She yearned toward it, eager to cauterize and cleanse. Reaching once again for the power in Robin’s hands, she felt him release it as she approached this vast darkness. The Major had relaxed her vigil in the aftermath of the pain and didn’t immediately react to what Rienne was doing. Suddenly, the healer felt a backlash of refusal and rejection so strong and violent it hurt. The irresistible force flung her away from the area.

  Don’t stop me, Sullyan, she pleaded. I can heal you of that. It will kill you otherwise.

  There was pain and panic in Sullyan’s tone. No, Rienne. You cannot heal there. You will destroy us both if you try. Rienne, HEAR ME!

  The healer fought, desperate to follow her instincts, but Sullyan was too strong. Once again, Rienne was forced away. She heard the Major calling on Marik and watched while the Count’s power, weak though it was, enveloped the terrible area, walling it off.

  Puzzled and hurt, she opened her eyes. “Why did you stop me? Don’t you know that it will—?”

  Painfully, Sullyan gripped her hands, preventing her from finishing her sentence. “Leave it, Rienne.” Exhausted, she lay back in Robin’s arms. “Let me sleep now. Robin, wake me at dawn, do you hear? Time is pressing, and there are things that must be done. Bulldog, make sure he obeys me.”

  Robin glared. “You don’t need to set Bull on me. I’ll do as you ask.”

  “See that you do,” she murmured, smiling.

  Rienne watched as the younger woman fell almost instantly asleep. She was deeply unhappy about what Sullyan had prevented her from doing. When Marik left the hut, she once more followed him into the night. He seemed unable to stay with them, probably realizing how much pain his presence caused Robin. Rienne knew he didn’t believe the Captain’s forced apology.

  Before he could reach the sanctuary of the barn, Rienne caught his arm. Staring up at him, ignoring his alien eyes, she said, “That poison is killing her. Why wouldn’t she let me deal with it?”

  He tried to turn away, but she held him. Unwilling to free himself by force, he said, “Rienne, this is not something I can speak of. Ask Sullyan if you must. But if I were you, I’d leave it as she asked you.”

  She co
uld hear the pain in his tone. “It’s something to do with what Rykan did to her, isn’t it? That’s why she had you seal it off instead of me.”

  He scowled. “It has to do with Andaryan blood, yes. More than that, I can’t say. I respect you, Rienne. Please do me the same courtesy. It really isn’t my place to tell you.”

  She let him go then and he marched stiffly into the barn.

  Chapter Four

  Rienne woke to the sound of someone calling her name. She had been deeply asleep, safe within the circle of Cal’s arms and dreaming of the power she had held in her hands just hours before. She sat up without waking him and looked around the dimly lit hut. She could see the slumbering forms of Taran, Bull, and Robin, but there was no sign of either Sullyan or Marik.

  Slipping from the blankets, she shrugged into her jacket. Her boots were by the fire, and she took them with her to the door. On a sudden impulse, she picked up her medical bag and slung it over her shoulder. Quickly lacing her boots, she cracked the door and stepped outside.

  It was barely dawn. A pale peach light was just seeping into the eastern sky. The ground was damp. It must have rained during the night, and that purple bank of clouds Rienne could see on the horizon threatened more. A pale, watery sun was rising, its first rays glinting in the rain droplets on the roof.

  Rienne glanced around, finally seeing Sullyan over by the corral. The Major was stroking the nose of Robin’s chestnut warhorse, Torka. She was wearing her spare shirt and breeches from the pack they had found at Marik’s mansion, and her glorious hair was partially braided, the weight of it falling like a ripple of amber down her back. Despite the potency of that wonderful whirl of healing power earlier in the night, Rienne was amazed to see her on her feet.

  Sullyan didn’t stir as Rienne approached and leaned on the railing beside her. The horse turned to her in hopes of a tidbit, but lost interest when it smelled she had nothing to offer. It moved off to crop the wet grass, and Sullyan watched it with unreadable eyes. Rienne thought the younger woman’s face looked sad under the fading pattern of bruises. The dark circles under her eyes had all but gone and the healthy skin was regaining its tawny glow.