Sacrifice (Book 4)

by Brian Fuller

  “I wouldn’t dream of taking advantage of you.”

  “Really? I’ve dreamed about it several times. You’re quite a rake in my dreams. Now, don’t be offended. Those dreams kept me alive. So let’s see if I can’t provide a little spark to inflame your imaginings a little.”

  She retook her perch on his lap pressed into him again, her passion now guiltless and rewarding as she shared her lips and her warmth until a polite “ahem” from the rear of the Chapel startled them both.

  “Maewen?” Gen said, turning in surprise.

  “Excuse my interruption,” she said. “But the Chalaine must return to the house soon. She is missed.”

  “Just tell them I’ve retired to my room.”

  “I don’t think that will do,” Maewen replied. “Fenna’s already checked your chambers. They may have found Dason by now. Did you hit him in the face?”

  “The balustrade did,” Gen replied. “They ought to fix that thing. Knocked him unconscious.”

  Maewen smirked. “We leave for Mikmir in the morning. Will you be coming with us, Gen?”

  “No. I go with Cadaen to find Mirelle.”

  “Good. We need her wisdom. The whole world is careening to its doom and, dancing the entire way. I’ll tell them I’ve found you, Alumira, and that you’ll be in shortly. Don’t be too long.” She left, the door squeaking as she shut it.

  “How did I not hear her come in?” Gen wondered aloud.

  The Chalaine smiled. “You were preoccupied. But curse it all, I don’t want to leave you now! Everyone else’s company is burdensome to me. Promise me you won’t leave tomorrow without seeing me.”

  “I promise. And I won’t leave this Chapel until we have a dance together. I must atone for abandoning your birthday party.”

  “Yes, you must.”

  He stood and extended his hand, pulling her out into the aisle. There they danced to a rhythm only they could hear until caution bade them stop. They embraced one last time and kissed, the Chalaine reluctantly retrieving her veil and fastening it to her head.

  “I love you, Chalaine,” Gen said, hands cradling her face. “Remember that. Remember to love yourself. You are so much better and stronger than you think you are.”

  “Don’t talk like that. It makes me think you aren’t coming back. Bring my mother back to me, Gen. My love goes with you, and my love waits for your return. Be quick. Please.”

  “I will.”

  “And if my mother starts flirting with you again, tell her it’s my turn. I’ll see you tomorrow, early. Don’t forget.”

  The Chalaine left reluctantly. As she opened the door, she turned to find Gen watching her intently and she nearly burst into tears. The best night of her life was ending, and she ached, fearing the greater bliss she longed for would never come.

  CHAPTER 78 - PRISONER AND PILGRIMS

  Mirelle gripped the bars of the prison wagon as it bounced along the uneven and newly repaired road up the canyon wall to the bridge at Echo Hold. So anxious was Athan to get the person who he thought was the Chalaine back to who he thought was Eldaloth that they had ridden through the night at great haste. Through the window on the left side of the cart, the rocky canyon wall slid by, and through the other window was a vertiginous and expansive view of the mountains in the late morning sunshine.

  While Mirelle worried about what Athan and Mikkik would do to her once her true identity was revealed, she worried more for the Chalaine. They rode hard, not only to get back to Mikkik as expeditiously as possible, but to escape what Athan’s soldiers considered a leaderless, marauding band of Uyumaak heading southwest toward their position. Mirelle overheard no reports about the size of the Uyumaak army, but Athan’s soldiers numbered near six thousand, and they fled before it like a deer would from a wolf.

  As she gazed upon the mountain scenery slipping by, she concluded that the journey and her life quickly approached their ends. Only one event would bring her satisfaction, now—the moment that Athan found out that the woman in the cart was not the precious Chalaine he wished to present to Eldaloth to heal the wound Gen had inflicted upon him. Athan was dreadfully bad at enduring disappointment, and Mirelle couldn’t think of a disappointment more stinging than being duped by the First Mother of Rhugoth on the most important mission of his life.

  The road smoothed out as they crested the canyon and started across the enormous bridge. Mirelle smiled to see that the multinational force brought to fight at Echo Hold had all been marshaled to give the Chalaine a warm welcome back to the fort and to the embrace of her god. Trumpets blared and shouts were raised, and Mirelle played the part, waving out the barred windows as the soldiery applauded. Her real purpose, however, was to see if any of the Dark Guard she had placed within the Tolnorian ranks awaited her arrival. Captain Tolbrook had been among them, and if the Church hadn’t ferreted him out, he would no doubt come to her defense, if he were able.

  But the sea of faces was too vast and the window too small for her to search, so she settled back onto the pillows. Time was short. She would face death with dignity. To calm herself, she searched back through her memory for the pleasant times she always called upon to soothe her when life turned dark. Raising her daughter, ruling a kingdom, and her pathetic, desperate flirting with Gen all served to cheer her in her moment of need. If only I could have convinced him to marry me! she thought. Not winning Gen was her only real regret, besides not assassinating Chertanne when she had the chance.

  The cart lurched to a halt, and the call to dismount and quarter the horses rang down the line. A large gate swung shut behind them, and Mirelle heard Athan’s sharp voice outside the wagon.

  “We must get her to him immediately!” he commanded. “Form a guard around me.” The rear door of the wagon slid open, and a hurried but fawning Athan waited. “Lady Khairn, we must not delay. You may rest from your journey later, unless Eldaloth rewards you with the wonders of Erelinda first.”

  The voice-changing magic that Ethris had worked upon her had long since worn off, and Mirelle simply nodded and joined the Eldephaere guard that Athan had gathered to guard her. Their backs were to the keep of Echo Hold, rising square and high into the air. Before them the Hall of Echo Hold waited. It had been carved from the native rock, appearing as if two rectangular slabs of tan stone had leaned against one another and a recess had been chiseled away in the front. A short, fanning stairway led to a wide porch, three tall windows rising on the facade of the edifice. The doorway was shaped like a rectangle with a triangle on top, and new doors had recently been installed to replace those that had gone to rot.

  The door swung open, and Mirelle frowned. The Church of the One had complete control of the structure, all the guards Eldephaere and all the attendants and administrators wearing the long robes and stoles of the Church. The interior of the keep bore rich appointments of maroon cloth and silver, no doubt brought to Echo Hold before the brief sham of a war they had fought.

  One of the attendants approached. “We have prepared refreshment. . .”

  “We have no time for refreshment,” Athan said. “We must end Edaloth’s pain immediately. Please inform him we are here with the Chalaine and await his pleasure.”

  The attendant slipped inside the interior double doors of the same size as the outer ones, returning a moment later and signaling them forward. Mirelle swallowed. She hadn’t seen Mikkik before as her daughter had and was unsure of what to expect. As she entered, she nearly gasped. The Hall was empty save for a single, commanding figure sitting on a new throne of polished dark wood barely large enough to hold him. He wore a simple white robe and glowed with glory. Much taller than a man, he had upswept ears and deep, powerful eyes. All this majesty, however, was undermined by a slow trickle of golden blood dripping from the throne and onto the floor to pool before him, crusting around the edges. He was in pain, his face registering discomfort, anger, and an incontrovertible will. It scared her, and she could no longer blame Athan for his eagerness to please.

 
They bowed as they entered, the door swinging shut behind them. Only she, Athan, and two Eldephaere had entered and awaited Mikkik’s pleasure. Torches added their light to narrow slits in the vertical walls. Above her, the two walls slanted upward to a point. Fresh wooden beams stretched across the top at regular intervals, three iron chandeliers hanging down. The candles were extinguished.

  “Rise and approach,” came the command, the rich voice echoing through the stony hall with power.

  “Most Holy Eldaloth,” Athan said, anxious and entreating, “I have brought to you the Chalaine. She will heal the wound and free you of pain.”

  They continued to approach, Mirelle trembling. Mikkik’s searching gaze drilled through the veil, and he stood, wincing with the effort. A fresh stream of blood poured away from the throne. A sudden force ripped into her mind, and she staggered and fell, Mikkik rummaging through her memories with brutal ease before releasing her. She gasped, working to stand.

  Athan stooped to help her up. “Are you. . .”

  “You are deceived, Athan!” Mikkik boomed, returning to his throne and sitting heavily. “This is not the Chalaine. This is her mother.”

  “No!”

  Still unsteady, Mirelle removed the heavy veil and threw it onto the floor. She drank in Athan’s horrified reaction, his face draining to white before blooming to red again. He gritted his teeth and slapped her with every ounce of strength his diminutive frame possessed, bloodying her mouth and snapping her head back.

  “You meddlesome woman! You will pay for your crimes!”

  Mirelle wiped her mouth. “I don’t think that is particularly fair, since we’re all paying for yours.”

  “Where is she?” Athan asked. “Where is the Chalaine?”

  “Let’s see. I think you left her traveling south, being pursued by a large force of Mikkik’s creatures. So nice of you to warn Lord Kildan they were coming. Oh, wait, you didn’t because you wouldn’t have cared if we all were slaughtered. What would Eldaloth say about your behavior?”

  Athan’s face reddened. “Eldaloth needs the Chalaine! Now! Where is she?”

  Mikkik spoke. “She travels to Rhugoth and Mikmir. Mirelle hopes her daughter will pen a letter explaining that she believes I am not Eldaloth. The Ilch has deceived them most thoroughly. It is well that he is dead. The sorrow this woman holds for his death is so strong I almost pity her.”

  “She knew he was the Ilch and aided him anyway!” Athan reported. “She must be punished.”

  “Yes,” Mikkik replied. “She has believed the Chalaine’s Ilch-distorted version of the events on the bridge. It is the grossest deception. It could not be foreseen, Athan. You are to blame for nothing, but you are correct that this woman is guilty. She did not act blindly. She and the Mage Ethris knew who Gen was and ignored the warning of prophecy for their own ends. They have endangered the whole world, for while I bleed, I cannot protect my children as I have longed to do.

  “Once this woman reigned in Rhugoth with much power and skill, but she must be humbled, now. We must act quickly to make an example of her. Have her flogged and burned immediately, a notice sent to all nations that she is dead for her crimes against Ki’Hal. Ethris must suffer the same fate or he will work his poison upon the nations, and war will come again. But the Chalaine must be recovered so that I might undo the deceit that has been planted in her mind and speed her to her rest.”

  Mirelle stood tall, staring Athan down. “Is this the merciful Eldloth we have praised every day of our lives, Athan? If the Ilch has deceived me, shouldn’t I be pitied rather than burned?”

  Mikkik rose again. “What you did, you did with your eyes open in the daylight. What I do must be done, though I take no pleasure in it. You were a Queen. You know that examples must be made to maintain order in chaotic times. Mikkik’s forces run rampant throughout the land, and I haven’t enough strength to fight them while I languish here in a pool of my own blood! The traitors among your race must die, or the disease the Ilch has infected you with will spread.”

  “Will you kill my daughter, Mikkik? To keep the disease from spreading? It is she to whom Aldemar showed the vision of you slaying Eldaloth with a sword made from the blood of the Mikkik Dun who died at your command. It is she that will start the fire that will burn you, and by harming me, you will only make that fire hotter!”

  Athan stepped forward. “She is right in her judgment of the Chalaine, Holy Eldaloth. I have seen the girl’s heart. If we kill Mirelle—which I agree must be done—then the Chalaine will not aid us willingly. She was completely deceived by the Ilch almost to a greater degree than her mother. She will be angered beyond the power of reason to recover her if she knows her mother suffers.”

  “I can reclaim her, Athan,” Mikkik said. “But she must come to me first. If we must delay this woman’s death to secure the Chalaine, then let it be so.”

  “It is wisdom, for now. I will jail her. I will haste to Mikmir and bring the Holy Chalaine to you with as much speed as I can muster.”

  “I will not let you use me as bait, Athan,” Mirelle hissed.

  “You have no choice,” Athan returned. “Guards! Bind her hand and foot and take her to the deepest cell. So she doesn’t feel so alone, put with her a few of the friends she tried to sneak into Echo Hold before the war. I was ready for that one, Mirelle.” To the guards he said, “Do not be over-generous with her food and water. Tell the outer guard to prepare the carriage. We depart for Mikmir immediately, and I will need the full help of the Council. Ethris travels with the Chalaine.”

  “I will smooth the road for you, my faithful servant,” Mikkik said, and Mirelle wondered what he meant.

  The two Eldephaere grabbed her roughly and pushed her forward, Athan striding out before them in as hurried a rush as he had when he entered. The guards led her back toward the keep, a fair number of Eldephaere sneering at her in disgust as they unlocked a door in a squat building nearby. They paused to bind her hands, and then forced her down a winding set of narrow stone steps into a haphazard catacomb with rough cells carved into the walls.

  Dirty, wretched prisoners behind newly restored metal bars winced at the sudden light of the Eldephaere’s torches. Mirelle scanned their hollow faces for anyone she knew, but only strangers stared back. Once they reached the last in the long line of cells, they unlocked the iron door and tossed her inside, the cramped cell not even as big as the closet in her luxurious room in Mikmir.

  “You tie her legs, and I’ll get her ‘friends,’” one of the guards said.

  As the other bound her ankles with rough cords, Mirelle tried to think why Athan would bestow the gift of company upon her when he clearly wished to strip everything else away. But when the other soldier returned, face grim and carrying an armful of severed heads, she finally knew the depth of Athan’s cruel heart. With a sneer he threw them in and closed the door.

  The light of the torch faded quickly. In its dwindling glow she saw the decaying face of Captain Tolbrook staring up at her in a rictus of pain, and she was thankful for the blessing of darkness and a place where weeping was a natural part of the chorus of despair all around her.

  The sun had yet to rise as Gen walked softly down the hall toward the Chalaine’s room. Maewen had relayed to Cadaen that Amos would accompany him on his journey, Cadaen informing her in return that he would leave at first light and brook no delays. Gen wouldn’t be late and was itching to leave. The uncertainty of Mirelle’s predicament tortured him all night, and, like Cadaen, his heart told him there wasn’t a moment to lose. He quickened his steps, the old building creaking dreadfully with every footfall. When he rounded the corner to the hall where the Chalaine was quartered, Dason, groggy and a little bruised, was already looking in his direction.

  “There you are!” her Protector said in an accusatory tone. “What were you doing with the Chalaine last night, and what did you do to me?”

  Gen stopped. “Keep your voice down, man! People are sleeping. What the Chalaine and I discussed is
none of your concern, and what I did to you was this.”

  And Gen did it again, incanting the same spell. Dason collapsed face first into the wall opposite him, skidding down until he was an uncomfortable lump on the floor. Gen stepped over him and opened the Chalaine’s door quietly, entering the dark room where she still slept. The barest slivers of light from the predawn sky leaked through the shutters. The Chalaine was lying on her side, hair fanned out around her, face peaceful. As he sat on the bed, the wood squealed and she stirred.

  “There you are,” she said dreamily, taking his hand and pulling him in beside her and snuggling into him. “You are awfully forward.”

  “I must go,” he said.

  “Not yet.”

  He stroked her hair until her breathing slowed and deepened.

  “I promise I’ll come to you as quickly as I can,” he whispered.

  “I’ll be waiting,” she replied, still sounding as if she frolicked in a dream.

  Gen leaned over and kissed her forehead and her cheek, her lips turning up in a smile.

  As he stood to go, he used Trysmagic to create a thornless red rose and placed it on the bed next to her, drinking in her serene face before turning his own toward trouble. The trip, he hoped, would be short, as much because of his fear of leaving the Chalaine unprotected as for a desire to be near her again.

  But he would not abandon Mirelle to torture and death. He stepped back out into the Hall and undid his spell on Dason, leaving before the man could recover. As Gen rounded the corner, Dason opened the Chalaine’s door to check on her and the Chalaine told him to go away.

  Cadaen waited in the kitchen. He had put aside his Dark Guard uniform in favor of a plain shirt and woolen pants and was hastily filling his bags with provisions from the larder. Gen tipped his hat to him and started stuffing his own bags.

  “I ride fast,” Cadaen said. “You get behind, I’m not slowing.”

  “I understand,” Gen replied.