Artesans of Albia: 02 - King's Champion

by Cas Peace

  She broke off their bout by sweeping her blade to the salute. Marik was panting and sweating heavily, but Sullyan felt healthier than she had since emerging from Rykan’s cell. Robin hissed her name and she went to his side.

  By the mansion gates, about a hundred yards from the training ground, the familiar flowerlike end of a trans-Veil structure blossomed. Bull rode his stallion through, leading another horse by the reins. It was a huge, coal-black beast with no white markings whatsoever. Even to someone who knew nothing about horses, its relationship to the Manor’s lead stallion, Mandias, was unmistakable. It had the same fine head and small ears, the same strong-boned legs with profuse feathering, the same silken wealth of ebony mane and tail. If anything, it was even larger than Mandias by about a hand’s height. It bore a small, light saddle and a plaited leather bridle with no bit. It tossed its magnificent head against Bull’s hold, snorting and dancing surprisingly lightly for such a huge animal.

  It wasn’t the horse, though, that drew Sullyan’s eyes and provoked an indrawn breath. Following Bull through the tunnel on a dark bay stallion was the imposing figure of General Blaine.

  Sullyan’s hand went to her mouth. “Mathias?”

  She could hardly remember the last time Blaine had used his Master level powers, let alone travelled the Veils. Frozen, she watched as he and Bull rode nearer, the General looking round with interest.

  A sudden squeal rent the air, breaking Sullyan’s shock. The coal-black stallion wrenched the reins from Bull’s hand and reared, then came thundering toward her. The ground shook under his massive hooves, and Marik dived for safety behind the benches. As the horse charged nearer, Sullyan gave a soft, trilling whistle. The big beast flung up his head, and with a snort, skidded to a dust-showering stop in front of her. Gently, he lowered his nose to her hair, blowing and snuffling. Then he buffeted her shoulder.

  She stroked the side of his face, murmuring, “Oh, Drum, you big show-off.”

  Bull and the General dismounted, and Bull lowered a full pack to the ground. Blaine passed his reins to the big man and approached Sullyan, who watched him around the stallion’s sleek neck. She saw Robin glance at Bull and the big man’s cryptic answering look. The General’s expression was impassive as he approached, and although Robin snapped him a salute, Blaine ignored it. Sullyan could feel the waves of Robin’s despair.

  Turning to the stallion, she pushed at his neck, sending him ambling away. Calmly, she faced the General, came to attention, and saluted. He stopped in front of her and flipped a casual hand back. He studied her for a long moment in silence while Robin fretted on the verge of tears and Bull stood alone, holding the reins of the two horses.

  At length, the General spoke. His voice was low, carrying a tone she had never heard before.

  “Major Sullyan. So it’s true, then?”

  Moisture started in her eyes, but she managed not to flinch. “I fear so, General.”

  He briefly looked away. She saw lines of pain on his stern face and was amazed. Turning back, he said, “Can nothing be done?”

  She took a deep breath. “Not that I am aware of, sir. The Hierarch may be able to help, but it would only be temporary.”

  Blaine stood in silence a moment more, digesting the news. Then he squared his shoulders and became once more the familiar, impersonal commander. He held out his left hand and Sullyan saw the gleam of gold. This time she couldn’t hide her start of astonishment.

  He spoke formally, his voice rough and stern. “Major Sullyan, I am charged to tell you that your resignation has not been accepted. The King will not release you.”

  Her eyes widened. “The King? But, General—”

  “Major!”

  She fell silent.

  Blaine removed a parchment from within his jacket and passed it to her. “I am instructed to pass these orders on to you. You were already the temporary Albian Envoy to Count Marik, and now King Elias has decided to make the appointment permanent.”

  Stunned, her hand shaking, Sullyan accepted the orders. She opened them and read them swiftly. When she looked back up at the towering General, her gaze was blurred by tears.

  “I am to be King Elias’ Envoy to the Hierarch?”

  She saw Robin’s start. The post of permanent Envoy was a prestigious one, very seldom bestowed.

  Stepping close to her, the General pinned the double thunderflash insignia of her rank above her left breast, where it belonged. Then he added another badge; the King’s Envoy shooting star.

  She shook her head, unable to speak. Robin’s mouth was hanging open and Bull was grinning widely, his eyes full of tears. She thought she saw a gleam of moisture in the General’s eye, but she must have been mistaken, for when he turned toward Robin his expression was as hard as ever. Robin’s fists clenched and she knew that her own face was as pale as his.

  As the General turned to him, Robin came to attention, trying vainly not to look in his superior’s hard blue eyes.

  “Captain Tamsen, I trust I’m not going to have any trouble from you?”

  Robin turned despairingly to Sullyan, but she could offer him no comfort. He had given her his promise to obey the General, but now that the moment had arrived, she wasn’t sure he could do it. She sensed him gathering his courage and hardening his resolve, and she silently begged him not to rebel.

  His voice came out as a croak. “No, General.”

  “Well, that’ll make a change.” Blaine studied Robin’s pinched face before continuing. “Your orders, Captain—and I trust you’ll obey them to the letter?” He paused, forcing Robin to nod his unhappy acceptance. “You are to remain here with the Major, to stand for her, aid her in her new duties, and guard her back until such time as she ... no longer needs you.”

  Robin stared, taking a few moments to assimilate what the General had said. He had been so sure of a recall. His face flushed and then paled again as he struggled to control himself. Bull was openly weeping, and Sullyan lowered her face to her hands.

  Trembling with reaction, Robin managed to stammer, “Th-thank you, General. You can rely on me to follow your orders implicitly, sir.”

  Blaine frowned. “Yes, I expect I can. But, Captain?” He captured Robin’s gaze again. “I want you back the moment your duties here are completed, do you understand? Sergeant Dexter has temporary command of the Major’s company, but you will be required to take over when you return.” His voice lost some of its gruffness. “Despite my reservations, I find that you are too good an officer to lose, even allowing for your past ... indiscretions.”

  Robin gave a feeble grin and Blaine’s face twisted wryly. “Major,” he said over his shoulder, “see if you can instill a bit more discipline into this young man, will you? He could certainly do with it.”

  “I will do my best, General, but I fear it will not be easy.”

  On hearing her voice, Blaine’s expression changed. Now, as he came toward her and took her hands, Sullyan could clearly see the unshed tears in his eyes. She followed as he guided her out of earshot of the others. She was still wrestling with the unexpected turn of events and was grateful for the respite. He stopped and she looked up at him.

  “I hardly know what to say, Mathias, except to thank you. I was trying not to think how I would cope without Robin. And as for the orders from the King ....” She shook her head, unable to finish.

  Blaine took her shoulders, turned her to face him, and looked down into her eyes. “You’ve never realized how highly Elias and I value you, have you? The King has followed your career with great interest. Yes, I admit, I had to be persuaded at first, and I know our relationship hasn’t always been easy for you. I can be stern and uncompromising, I know, but you always went out of your way to observe the proprieties, and for that, I thank you.”

  “You have no need to thank me, Mathias. If not for you, I would never have found my place in life, would never have come to know the profession I love or fulfill my reason for being. You have been my commanding officer, but also, as mu
ch as your duties allowed, my friend. I hope you know that I love you.”

  He ducked his head and she could feel him struggling for composure. When he was able to look at her again, he said, “Bull tells me that you and that hot-headed Captain of yours have finally decided to acknowledge what the rest of us have known for months.”

  “Oh, has he?” She glanced archly at Bull, who grinned and shrugged. “Well, he had no business to.”

  The General snorted. “He couldn’t have kept it to himself if he’d tried, not with your other friends so full of it.” He suddenly sobered. “Your dark-haired healer is very distressed, you know.”

  She looked away. “As am I, Mathias. Will you tell her you found me well?”

  “Lie to her, you mean? She’ll not believe me.”

  After an awkward pause, she said, “I must ask you two small favors, General.”

  Warily, he said, “What favors?”

  “The first is that you will do what you can for Taran. He has had a difficult life so far. He has much talent, but all this will have confused him. He will be concerned for his future.”

  Blaine regarded her with raised brows and hard eyes, but she said no more. “And the second?”

  “I want you to see that Robin gains his Mastery.” She glanced over to where Robin stood talking quietly with Bull. “I may not be capable of it myself and he is very nearly ready. He may not think so, at least, not when he first returns, but given a little time I believe he will want it again. He is very strong, Mathias. Do not waste that strength.”

  The General considered this, looking off into the distance. Then he said, “Do you think he’d accept it from me?”

  She smiled. “Persuade him. You can be very persuasive when you want to be.”

  He grinned. “Very well, Sullyan. I’ll do what I can.” To her eternal amazement, he suddenly gathered her into an emotional embrace which, after a stunned moment, she returned. “Take care of yourself,” he murmured, “as much as you can.”

  He released her quickly and stepped away, but not before she had seen the tear on his cheek. He marched back to his horse and all but snatched the reins from Bull.

  The big man dropped his own reins and came hesitantly toward Sullyan. She was trembling, dreading the moment. She simply couldn’t believe she would never see him again.

  He stopped a few paces off and she realized he was trembling as hard as she was. Awkwardly, he said, “I have a message for you from Solet. He said to tell you that Mandias will be alright. He won’t recover completely and he’ll never work again, but he’ll still be able to cover the mares and live out his life with the breeding herd.”

  She swallowed painfully. “Thank him for me, Bull.”

  They stepped into each other’s arms, allowing the grief to flow freely, neither hiding anything from the other.

  “Oh, Sully, Sully,” Bull gasped when he could finally speak again. They reluctantly moved apart, still holding fast to each other’s hands. Bull’s big fingers softly stroked the unfamiliar ring on Sullyan’s left hand, and he smiled through his sorrow. “I’m so glad for you both.”

  Robin spoke from behind him. “I don’t know how you managed to persuade the General to let me stay, Bull, but I’m very grateful.”

  The big man shook his head. “It was nothing to do with me, lad. It was his idea.” Giving the stunned Captain a hug, he said, “Look after her.” Robin could only nod.

  “He will, Hal,” breathed Sullyan. “You know that. And now I stand a chance of accomplishing my task before—” She broke off. Taking a steadying breath, she hurried on. “Look after Rienne and the others for me. We never did get to the bottom of that business with the Andaryan artifact, so they will need your help with that. Robin will keep in touch with you, let you know how things progress. And I ... I will be thinking of you and missing you and wishing we were all together again. Oh, Hal!”

  She let the floodgates open again as he wrapped her desperately in his arms.

  A few minutes later she stood with Robin, watching as the two men rode back into the trans-Veil tunnel. The General kept his eyes resolutely turned to the fore, but Bull strained back to catch the last possible glimpse of them before the structure collapsed. Then they were alone.

  Marik had already left to go ready his gear. Robin picked up the extra pack of Sullyan’s things that Bull had brought and put his arm around her trembling shoulders.

  “Well then, Major Sullyan, Lady Ambassador, King’s Envoy to the Hierarch of Andaryon. Shall we go?”

  His forced cheerfulness bolstered her flagging strength and she smiled at him. They walked back to the mansion, Drum trailing at their heels like some huge, black dog.

  Chapter Eleven

  The journey to Caer Vellet, four long days’ ride to the north of Marik’s lands, was not one on which any of them later looked back with pleasure. Count Marik, fearing for his life, withdrew further into himself the nearer they came to the Hierarch’s stronghold. Sullyan rode lost in her own thoughts. Never one for moodiness, this was completely out of character, but she hoped Robin would understand. She had never been in a situation quite like this before.

  Although the two of them shared their blankets during the bitterly cold nights, out of deference to the Count they did no more than hold each other. The closeness and passion they had experienced in the acknowledgement of their love had been walled away, too intense, too consuming, to speak of at this time.

  Sullyan knew that Robin thought she was merely going through the motions of living. She cared for Drum as assiduously as ever, took her share of camp duties and resumed her preferred pre-dawn watch as normal. Yet she was aware he thought the reasons for doing these things had deserted her. She replied if spoken to, but rarely initiated speech, and Robin soon took over responsibility for scouting their route. He had formed the impression that she didn’t much care whether they were discovered or not, and she didn’t put him right.

  His assumption, however, was completely wrong. Most of her attention during that time was spread out through the countryside, searching for signs of raiding bands or scouts from either Rykan’s or the Hierarch’s forces. It did not suit her plans for anyone to discover them before they reached Caer Vellet, and the last thing she wanted was for Rykan to learn what had become of her.

  They circled westwards in their journey, and as any serious fighting was likely to be concentrated in the forests to the east, she felt they were safe from Rykan’s forces. Even so, she pushed on hard, rarely stopping for longer than to breathe the horses. She was desperate to reach the Caer and deliver her information before the two sides fully engaged, and with every passing day she could feel the poison of Rykan’s seed creeping closer to her heart.

  In the evenings, when they sat to eat their rations before a small, screened fire, she often caught Robin gazing at her as she sat brooding over her fellan. Did he know she was thinking of Bull in those dark and lonely moments? Maybe, for he sat as close as he could to her, sometimes with an arm across her shoulders. Although she never let herself melt against him, she was glad of his uncomplicated support.

  The weather worsened as winter drew on. Finally, they crested a small knoll within a circling wood of bare trees. Looking away to the north, three miles or so across frozen, snow-softened plains, they saw a tall hill.

  The hazy sky and diffused, watery sunlight made the details unclear, but still the fortress rearing from the top of the hill was impressive. It commanded views of the plains all around. Dark, encircling walls, buttressed and crenellated, surrounded the lower town. From the top of those walls came occasional flashes of sun glancing off weapons as swordsmen patrolled the walkways. Huge wooden gates in the south wall were shut fast, but there was movement by their feet. Doubtless a detachment of guardsmen patrolled there.

  The massive, grey towers of the Citadel’s palace stretched smoothly upward among the buildings of the upper town, standing like vast fangs against the steely sky. Pennons flew from their tips, gaudy patches of pu
rple slashed with gold. The colors of the Hierarch, Sullyan thought, the House of Pharikian. In peacetime, the gates to the Citadel would stand open, and even in winter a steady stream of petitioners, craftsmen, peddlers, and market men would pass between them. Now, all they could see were companies of soldiers drilling among a huddle of tents, the daytime enclave of the craftsmen who supported and equipped the Hierarch’s fighting forces.

  Sullyan leaned on Drum’s ebony neck and regarded the Citadel. Her eyes ranged further east toward the forests where she thought skirmishes against outriders from Rykan’s army must surely have already taken place. Yet no columns of smoke stained the horizon, no circling carrion birds indicating major confrontations. She was surprised but relieved, guessing that the loss of Rykan’s trump card—her powers—had caused the Duke to rethink his strategy. Smiling grimly—the first expression she had ventured since leaving Marik’s lands—she turned to the two men beside her.

  “Gentlemen, behold Caer Vellet, Citadel and stronghold of Timar Pharikian, Hierarch of Andaryon. Let us pay him a visit.”

  She touched her heels to Drum’s sides and sent him plunging down the knoll, through the barren wood, and toward the plains. Marik’s horse came after her, followed by Robin, guarding their backs.

  * * * * *

  On that particular frosty afternoon, Taran and Cal returned to their quarters to find Rienne sitting alone and miserable by the fire. Taran glanced worriedly at his Apprentice. The healer hadn’t heard them come in over her uncontrollable sobs.

  “Oh, Rienne.” Cal went over to her and folded her tightly in his arms. She turned her face to his chest, sobbing as if her heart would break. She was obviously beyond words, and neither man wasted breath asking what was wrong. Even though the intensity of Rienne’s emotion was unusual, they both knew its cause. It troubled their hearts too. Cal merely sat and held her while the shuddering eased, and Taran silently fetched glasses, pouring each of them a shot of firewater. Ruefully, he reflected that they were becoming a little too addicted to Bull’s favorite drink.