Artesans of Albia: 02 - King's Champion

by Cas Peace

  Almid stretched out his hand, requesting contact. Since she had shown the mute twins how to communicate with those who had the power to hear them, they had become proficient, speaking regularly with their fellows. Yet they never failed to ask permission before bespeaking her. Sullyan smiled at the huge man and his rough, untutored voice echoed in her mind.

  Kester and I will come with you.

  It wasn’t a request. She briefly considered refusing him, but quickly let it go. Gratefully, she squeezed his huge forearm.

  “I thank you, Almid.”

  Ki-en might not have heard Almid’s voice, but he immediately guessed what had been said. “I’m going with you too.”

  Ky-shan nodded, grinning when he saw the expression on Sullyan’s face. “All five of us are going with you, Lady.” He held up a hand as she began to protest. “Don’t waste your breath. Refusing will do you no good. We’ve fulfilled our part of the bargain, and we’ve seen what you are. Now that we understand why you’re here and what you’re doing, we want to help you. All of my men would follow you wherever you led them now. Indeed, it will be hard to make them accept someone else, even someone like Marik, who they know. But my mind’s made up. Most of the band will go with the Count to swell his numbers, but the five of us,” he swept the twins, Jay’el, Ki-en, and himself with a gesture, “are staying with you.”

  His gaze never wavered, and Sullyan felt her heart contract. She lowered her eyes, unable to speak for the moment, and shook her head at their obstinacy. When she raised it again, Ky-shan was smiling.

  It was a strange moment the next day when Ky-shan summoned the band and told them what was to happen. Sullyan couldn’t help but contrast their reactions to this news with the scene back at the Citadel when they had first learned they must go into the field under a woman’s command. They had railed long and hard against that; now they railed against her leaving.

  Ky-shan swiftly lost patience with their protests and was about to rebuke their lack of discipline when Sullyan stopped him. Coming forward to where they could all see her, she faced the men. They fell silent. Looking round at their familiar faces, she found a smile for them.

  “Gentlemen, I thank you for your loyalty and support these past weeks. You are brave and fearless fighters. Count Marik will be glad to have your strength among his men. I will commend you highly to the Hierarch, and I know you will continue to play your part. If I can, once Rykan is defeated, I will speak with you again before you depart for the east. If I cannot ... well, I want you to know now that I am proud to have fought alongside you and I wish you every success.”

  She paused, and then raised her lilting voice in song.

  “May the westerly breezes blow you

  Safe across the Triple Sea,

  To Tallimore, to rest evermore,

  Where we may meet once more,

  If our charted course is true.”

  Her ritual leave-taking brought tears to many of the seamen’s eyes, although they scorned to show it. They cheered her loudly and long, and her emotions soon forced her to withdraw to her own campfire where she sat wrapped in silence, wordlessly accepting fellan laced with brine rum from Kester.

  She left Ky-shan to organize his band’s departure, setting Xeer at their head as they rode out to join Marik. The Count was leading the columns of the right flank, under General Kryp. Once they had gone, Sullyan gathered up her belongings and prepared to return to the Citadel.

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Taran had taken the dawn watch that morning and he still had some time to go before he could rouse his companions. It was dark and he was cold, despite the small campfire keeping the frost off his back. The blanket folded beneath him was beginning to feel lumpy and he reached down to pull it straight. A sound caught his hearing and he stopped mid-gesture, his fingers moving toward his sword hilt.

  He let out a breath of relief as he watched the dark bundle that was Bull unfold itself. The big man stretched, yawned silently, and climbed to his feet. His eyes met Taran’s and they exchanged a nod, the Adept’s hand relaxing away from his sword. Bull moved over to Taran’s side of the fire and sat on the edge of his blanket.

  “What on earth are you doing awake at this hour, Bull?”

  Like Taran, Bull kept his voice low so as not to disturb Cal or Rienne. “I thought it might be a good time to try for contact with Robin. I’ve been putting it off because I’m not sure how he’ll react. The last thing I want is to distract him from his duties, but I’ve found it hard not keeping in regular contact. The discipline is drummed into every Manor swordsman from our earliest days as cadets, and that time is many years in the past for me.”

  Taran sat in silence while Bull ordered his mind and quested for contact with Robin. Once he achieved it, he threw a questioning look at Taran. The Adept accepted the offer to be included in the exchange. He hadn’t seen anything unusual on his watch, and there was no reason to believe anything would go wrong over the next few minutes. However, as Bull’s solid, symmetrical psyche melded with his, Taran still managed to keep a part of his mind on his duty.

  Robin’s mental tone was unsurprised as he returned Bull’s diffident greeting.

  So you’ve crossed the Veils, big man? I thought you might.

  Bull’s relief at the Captain’s lack of censure was reflected in his tone as he replied.

  We couldn’t stand it any longer. The waiting was killing us. Where are you?

  On our way back to the Citadel. Anjer recalled Sullyan yesterday.

  Did she resist him?

  Of course not. She knows how vital it is that she stays safe.

  I’m glad. I was worried she might risk herself in the main battle, but I suppose I should have known better. So what do you think, Robin? Should we tell her we’re here, or keep it from her?

  There was a pause while Robin thought it over.

  I think she’s better off not knowing. She’s got enough on her mind at the moment. She’d be mad at you at first, and then she’d either order you back to Albia or tell you to head straight for the Citadel. Either way, she’d be concerned until she knew you were safe, and that would take her mind off this meeting with Rykan.

  Bull nodded, and the gesture made Taran smile. It was redundant because Robin couldn’t see it.

  Alright, if you’re sure that’s best. I know she’s going to be mad at me, and the last thing I want is to worry her. If we’re going to keep out of the way, where’s the best place to camp? We don’t want to run into patrols from the Citadel any more than we want to meet Rykan’s troops.

  Keep well away from the southeastern side of the Plains. There are some woods to the west and southwest of the Citadel, but they’re a bit far away. There’s only one place I know where you’ll probably be safe. It’s ... here.

  An image appeared in Taran’s mind, and he sensed Bull carefully studying it, memorizing the location.

  Thanks, Robin. That looks as good a place as any. I’ll let you know when we get there. Now, how is Sully’s health holding up?

  Robin’s mental tone changed and sadness suffused his voice.

  The Hierarch’s physician has given her a potion which seems to be helping. Most of the pain is controlled now. At least it’s not incapacitating her like it did before. But it’s still there, Bull, eating into her soul and slowly destroying her. I’ve been able to forget about it during this campaign, but now that the final meeting is so close, I can’t get it out of my mind.

  Taran felt his heart sink at the despair in Robin’s tone. It was too much for Bull to bear, and he broke contact. Without a word to Taran, he went back to his blankets.

  * * * * *

  When Sullyan and Robin rode back into the Citadel later that day, the Lord General came to meet them. He had clearly been waiting for them. Grooms stepped forward to take their horses, and servants relieved them of their packs. Ky-shan and the rest of Sullyan’s escort were amazed when they were included in this courteous treatment. They had even been assigned a small
suite of rooms within the Palace. Before he left them, Anjer passed on a request that they all present themselves to the Hierarch, although Sullyan begged permission for a bath before fulfilling that obligation.

  Anjer laughed. “You didn’t think his Majesty would make you forego that pleasure, did you?”

  She smiled with relief. “How long do we have, my Lord?”

  “Long enough. A page will come for you.”

  Leaving Ky-shan and the others to settle into their suite, Sullyan and Robin made their way to their own rooms. Sullyan stripped off her soiled clothing and made straight for the bathing pool. She was accustomed to doing without when on campaign, but it only heightened her appreciation of clean hot water. A chance to scrub off the accumulated grime was most welcome.

  Slowly divesting himself of his own clothes, Robin regarded her critically. “You’ve lost weight again.”

  She didn’t reply, but she did hold out her arms to him as he joined her in the pool.

  Two hours later, scrubbed and refreshed, Sullyan, Robin, and their escort followed a page through the palace corridors. Each person they passed, whether servant or noble, bowed courteously in Sullyan’s direction. She acknowledged them all with a nod of her head. As they approached the private areas of the palace, Sullyan was surprised to see a familiar figure walking toward her. The Princess Idrimar halted, obviously intent on speaking, and Sullyan accorded her a deep curtsey. The men following her bowed.

  The Princess stood with her hands tightly clenched. Her face was pinched, her pale grey eyes red-rimmed. They flicked uncertainly over the faces before her.

  Sullyan regarded her with some concern. “Can I help you, Highness?”

  Idrimar’s air of anxiety deepened and she dropped her gaze. “Please forgive me, Major, I know you’ve only just returned from battle. You must be on your way to see my father, and I don’t want to hold you up. It’s just ....”

  “Please, Highness, ask. I will tell you anything you want to know.”

  “I wanted to ask you ... do you have any news of Count Marik?”

  It took all Sullyan’s will not to smile, and she sincerely hoped the others were being as circumspect. The Princess was trying hard to hide her true feelings, but her heart could not have been plainer had she held it in her hands.

  “Highness, let me assure you that the Count is quite well. He leads his men on the right flank, under General Kryp. He has acquitted himself admirably so far, and I believe your father will be pleased with his contribution to this conflict.”

  Idrimar’s cheeks took on a faint pink bloom. A shy smile curved her lips and she clasped one of Sullyan’s hands. “Major, I thank you. You have eased my mind. I’ll let you go now. We mustn’t keep my father waiting.”

  The older woman departed, and Sullyan glanced meaningfully at Robin. “It seems the Count really has made an impression. Who would have thought it?”

  Robin grinned. “Do you think anything will come of it?”

  “Who knows? But the Princess is smitten, that much is clear.”

  The page led them to the door of the Hierarch’s small audience chamber. Before they entered, Sullyan spent a few moments reassuring Ki-en and Jay’el about the forthcoming interview with their monarch. None of the pirates had met him, nor thought they ever might, and were understandably nervous. The older men hid it well, but the younger two could not. Once they had entered and lined up facing the oval table, the fanfare announcing the Hierarch’s arrival made both boys jump.

  Pharikian walked in, accompanied by guards and pages. He looked older, more careworn, and Sullyan frowned as she studied his face. He made his way to the table and halted beside the throne. When his eyes met hers he smiled, and his face shed years. Shyly, she returned the gesture.

  Once the guards and pages had stepped back, Sullyan and her escort kneeled to honor the monarch, she and Robin making the obeisance due to a Senior Master. Pharikian beckoned them to rise and come forward. When Sullyan approached he enveloped her in a loving hug, and she heard Jay’el gasp in astonishment.

  Releasing her at last, Pharikian stood back, his gaze scrutinizing her thoroughly.

  “You’re thinner, Brynne.”

  She answered with a smile. “If you had been in the field for weeks, eating trail rations and fighting Rykan’s troops, Majesty, you would be thinner too.” Her familiar tone drew startled glances from Ky-shan and his men. “But you do look tired.”

  Pharikian gave a small shrug. “We are nearing the end, Brynne.”

  Rejecting the gilded throne, he drew them to a collection of easy chairs at the side of the chamber. Before permitting them to sit, he had her conduct the introductions and commended Ky-shan especially for his services to the Crown. He then eyed Jay’el, causing the young man to fidget nervously.

  “I have heard of your little foolishness, boy. I hope you have learned your lesson and decided to behave like a man.”

  Jay’el swallowed. “Y-yes, Majesty.”

  Pharikian invited them all to sit. He and Sullyan spent some time discussing the past weeks, as she was keen to know how the rest of his troops had fared against Rykan. The monarch told her what he knew, but what interested her most was that no one had encountered the Duke in person.

  Pharikian waved a dismissive hand. “I’m not surprised, Brynne. He’ll be keeping himself safe somewhere far to the rear with his personal guard around him. He won’t even risk his generals in the real fighting. If you were hoping he would commit himself, you’ll be disappointed.”

  “Then we must devise a plan to make him do so, Majesty. With your permission, I have a few ideas that I would be happy to put to the Lord General.”

  He smiled. “I’m sure Anjer would appreciate any advice you care to give.”

  Pharikian then turned to Ky-shan and asked the pirate about his band. His curiosity satisfied, Pharikian dismissed them, but once Ky-shan and his men had left, he called Sullyan back. Robin remained by the door at a gesture of the Major’s hand.

  The monarch drew her to him. “How are you, Brynne?”

  Holding his yellow gaze, she replied honestly. “I will be better for a rest, Timar.”

  He frowned. “I’d heard you were wounded rescuing that foolish boy.”

  She gave him a small smile. “It was a flesh wound and has healed well. Robin’s was worse, but he is also fit now. Never fear, Timar, it will not affect my ability to confront Rykan.”

  Pharikian was stung. “That isn’t why I asked!” His tone was so sharp that Robin glanced over. Sullyan touched Pharikian’s arm in tacit apology and he accepted with a shake of his head. “How are you apart from that?”

  She knew what he really wanted. Out in the field, she had almost been able to forget the poison in her system. Deshan, the Master Physician, had done a good job in re-sealing it and slowing its advance. The potion he had given her had numbed the pain and allowed her natural vitality to reassert itself. Yet she couldn’t fool herself into thinking she was well. Deshan had bought her a little more time, that was all.

  Not trusting herself to speak, she opened her psyche to Pharikian’s senses and invited him to see for himself.

  The concern that flooded his features told her what she had guessed but hadn’t wanted to acknowledge. He sighed sadly.

  “We need another meeting with Deshan, child. I’ll send for you later. Go and get some rest, if you can. If there are any developments outside, I’ll see that you hear of them.”

  Deshan and the Hierarch came to her rooms a couple of hours later. Sullyan had had some sleep and was feeling stronger. She had stretched out on the couch by the fire, leaving Robin still slumbering in the sleeping room. He woke at the page’s tap on the door and came yawning into the living area as the Major admitted the two men.

  The Master Healer took one look at Sullyan and frowned.

  “Timar, she really shouldn’t have been allowed to spend herself in the field like that. It wasn’t a sensible thing to do.”

  Pharikian spread
his hands. “We had no choice, Deshan. There was no other way to convince the generals to accept her.”

  Grumbling about the mental capacity of generals, Deshan gestured for Sullyan to lie on the couch. He sat beside her, one hand on her brow, the other holding her left hand. She allowed him access to her psyche so he could monitor her condition. When he saw how the poison had spread, the worry lines around his eyes deepened. Resignedly, he glanced up at the Hierarch.

  “We can only do this once more, Timar. The poison has gone very deep, and if we delve too deeply to seal it off, we risk sealing her powers away too.”

  Sullyan gave a gasp. She knew that Pharikian hadn’t told Deshan the entirety of her plans for Rykan. Indeed, she hadn’t told the Hierarch everything. Much depended on the circumstances of the meeting, but she knew she would need every vestige of her powers if she was to defeat the Duke. Physical strength was only one part of the equation.

  Pharikian understood her fear. He glanced from her worried eyes to those of his physician. “We will do as much as we can without impairing your energies, Brynne.”

  Robin approached, not wanting to be left out. “Can I help?”

  Sullyan held out her hand to him and he came to the other side of the couch. She closed her eyes, opening her psyche fully to the three men around her. She sensed both Robin and the Hierarch giving control of their powers to Deshan, who used them, together with Sullyan’s own fathomless, amber energy, to capture and encapsulate the invasive, black well of poison in her soul.

  She could tell how repulsed Robin was by the texture and feel of the poison; he was staggered by how vast it had grown. So was she, although she fought not to show it. It seemed that every fiber, every corner, of her being was infected with it. Only one area was free, one tiny, pulsing, crystal clear star right at the core of her soul. Robin struggled not to show his despair, but they were each so completely interlinked that their senses and emotions could not be hidden. Sullyan couldn’t bear to see him so crushed and sent out her love to surround his heart. Yet she couldn’t soothe away his sense of failure, and when the work was done and the three men released their meld, Robin’s face was damp with tears of shame.