by Brian Fuller
Mirelle shook her head. “Mikkik has run this little ploy of his expertly. This is dire news.”
“It gets worse,” Maewen continued. “Lord Kildan returned to his homeland and was immediately arrested by the Eldephaere and killed as a traitor.”
“No!” Gen and Mirelle said in unison.
“His sons found out about three hours ago and are eager for some kind of revenge. But the most intriguing news to come this evening was of your escape and an invitation from Eldaloth, well, Mikkik. He has invited anyone who formerly claimed right of leadership or nobility in any of the nations to join him on a Procession of Glory led by the new Pontiff, Athan.”
“Procession of Glory?” Mirelle asked. “Sounds overly dramatic and pretentious. What is it?”
She reached into her pouch and pulled out a piece of parchment. “Read it for yourself.”
To the Esteemed Lord Feldebrinne,
To celebrate the healing of Eldaloth from the wound cruelly inflicted upon him by the Ilch, you, in view of your past service to the prophecy, are invited to join a Procession of Glory. Eldaloth and Pontiff Athan will lead to Elde Luri Mora those whose leadership during the hard months before the rebirth proved critical in defeating Mikkik and his allies.
With his power fully restored, Eldaloth will march to Elde Luri Mora and restore Ki’Hal to a wholeness that has not been since Mikkik struck him down. You are privileged to be called up to join the company to witness these events firsthand and join in a celebration the likes of which you will never forget.
All those wishing to join this Procession of Glory to see Ki’Hal restored should report to Echo Hold on the Seventh Day following the next. Food and provisions will be provided for you, but you should provide your own horses and raiment. May Eldaloth continue to bless us with his glorious return.
“This is outrageous!” Mirelle said. “The Regents and nobles and Warlords cannot be stupid enough to fall for this! He’ll kill them all, and the world will be leaderless!” Mirelle exclaimed.
“Mirelle,” Gen said gently, “remember that you have seen nothing but hardship since the fraudulent return. You have spoken with Mikkik himself and nearly been killed. Most of the people have been rejoicing and feasting for days. This is just more good news to fuel their celebration. We need a way to awaken them. I’m not sure our little plan will be enough.”
“What is it that you propose?” Maewen asked.
“The return of Aldradan Mikmir,” Mirelle said.
“He’s dead, Mirelle,” Maewen replied, face skeptical. “I buried him.”
“That is true, but if Mikkik can assume someone else’s identity to lead people around like sheep, then we can do the same. The legend of Aldradan Mikmir runs through all the peoples of Ki’Hal. He was a warrior, he was a Magician, and he came at a time of dire need.” Mirelle pointed a finger at Gen. “Sound familiar?”
Maewen’s eyebrows raised, and a smile slowly formed on her lips. “That is the most ridiculous and wonderful thing I have heard in a long while. But there isn’t a lot of time. Even with Gen’s power, he just can’t cleanse Mikmir of Eldephaere and Church soldiers by himself. Even the company of soldiers we have brought out of Blackshire would be insufficient. We have six days before this Procession of Glory moves out of Echo Hold. In four days’ march they can be on the shores of Elde Luri Mora.”
“It begins here,” Gen said. “Tomorrow, Aldradan Mikmir will come to Embriss and speak of Mikkik’s treachery to all the pilgrims lining up for Echo Hold. They will carry the story to Tenswater. Using the Portals we can get fast riders to send the word to all of Rhugoth and most of Ki’Hal within two days and tell them to bring soldiers to Mikmir. It will be war from the start. The Church will block the use of the Portals as soon as they find out, but we hope to make it difficult for them.”
“How?” Maewen asked.
Mirelle grinned. “By announcing an irresistible wedding and inviting everyone in Ki’Hal to attend.”
“And whose wedding will that be?”
“Aldradan Mikmir and my daughter. She has taken the name Alumira, then?”
“Yes,” Maewen answered.
“We have to get her consent, of course,” Gen said. “I won’t have her marry against her will again.”
“I think gaining the Chalaine’s consent will be the easiest part of this plan of yours,” Maewen said. “Dason’s been quite forward with his intentions concerning her. This will be a cruel blow to him.”
“He’ll recover,” Mirelle said. “But we do need to talk to my daughter about all of this before tomorrow.”
“Come within the outer walls of the manor,” Maewen said. “There are too many threats that lurk out here in the dark. There is one complication; Mirelle, you are a fugitive. Few know it as yet, but Regent Feldebrinne is still divided about what Lady Alumira has told him. If he sways in another direction, he could try to detain her.”
“Try would be all he would do before Gen leveled his manor,” Mirelle answered confidently. “Part of our ruse is that Aldradan Mikmir rescued me from Echo Hold. I think my presence will only sway the Regent to our side.”
Maewen nodded. “The manor is surrounded by pleasant little wilderness. On the northern side there is a low hill with a pavilion. I will bring her there. Gerand is on duty, but don’t be surprised if Dason comes looking for her when she wanders away. He is more like her pet than a Protector.”
Together they walked back to the road, and Gen offered Mirelle his arm as they traveled the short distance to the manor gate. A wall of mortared stones two times as high as a man surrounded the entire estate, encompassing several outbuildings and the forest for a mile in every direction. The soldiers of the Regent still held power on the Regent’s property, and the swelling numbers of strangers in the town had required a similar increase of soldiers to patrol the Regent’s lands.
Two lanterns hung from the walls by the arched entry, four soldiers standing at the ready by the closed gate. Maewen approached first.
“These are two more members of Lady Alumira’s party,” Maewen explained. “I have been waiting for them. We are ready to enter.”
“Who are they?” one of the guards asked.
“This is Amos and the Lady Alumira’s mother, the former First Mother of Rhugoth.”
Mirelle flashed them a smile, and the soldiers looked on in astonishment.
“We heard you were burned as a traitor and then that you escaped!”
“I was rescued,” she replied, “by someone greater than us all. You will know more soon. Thank you for your watchful diligence. May we enter, please?”
The power of her pleasant, feminine beauty unlocked the gate and they passed through, the road inside the wall paved in cobble. They passed low barracks ensconced in trees where soldiers were quartered. Other buildings waited down wide forest tracks, lanterns casting lights among the trees. The road led steadily upward, night birds favoring them with their song. As they cleared a bend, they could make out the steeply sloped gables of the manor above the trees. Gen could sense the Chalaine there, and his heart rejoiced to see her again.
“Take the side path here northward,” Maewen instructed them. “Follow it until you reach the pavilion. I will come with the Chalaine as soon as I can.”
Maewen continued on toward the house while Gen led Mirelle down the dark path between the trees. She leaned into him, and an odd sorrow rose within him. He stopped and faced her, and she regarded him questioningly. He took her hands.
“Mirelle,” he said, “I need you to know something before we rush headlong into the whirlwind of trouble you and I have concocted together. You have been so kind and generous and loving to me that I could never repay you everything I owe you. You have cared for me, defended me, and rewarded me with every good thing you could. How you knew me well enough to know that I would love to spend my days in Blackshire, I can only guess. That you are willing to give me your best gift, your beloved daughter, stirs me with feelings I cannot give words to.
“You are the best and brightest of all women I have ever known, and please understand that if circumstances would have been different, you are just as beautiful to me as your daughter and I would be just as happy and fortunate to wed the First Mother of Rhugoth. I would have loved you no less, Mirelle. Do not think that just because I love the Chalaine, that I do not love you. Earning the love of one beautiful woman is good fortune; earning the love of two is a peculiar kind of torture.”
Mirelle wiped her eyes. “I am sorry if I made this harder on you than it should have been.”
“Don’t apologize,” Gen said. “I only grieve to see you alone. I owe you everything, and I want to see you happy.”
“Then marry my daughter. I am a mother, Gen, and I am no longer the first concern of my heart. I will take great joy in seeing her happy, especially knowing all the trouble and sorrow she has passed through with Chertanne. That said, do know that when you see me crying at your wedding, most of the tears will be for my daughter, but some few will be for me.”
“One last kiss, then, before you become my intimidating mother-in-law?”
“I hoped you would ask.”
To spare them both, Gen kept it short. He pressed his forehead against hers for several long moments, breathing in her scent, before pulling away and leading her forward. They walked in silence, winding around a low, tree-covered hill until they found the pavilion that Maewen had spoken of. It provided a good view of the surrounding area, the moons’ hazy light playing evenly over the trees. The lights of the packed town and the manor house were bright pockets in the darkness. They sat together, Mirelle leaning on his shoulder while they waited.
“Any advice you want to give me about your daughter before I marry her?”
“She has matured a great deal this last year,” Mirelle said. “I think you are wise enough and know her well enough that any advice I give you would be redundant. I really have no charge to give you other than to make her as happy as you can, and I don’t believe you need to do much more than be yourself to do it. She trusts and loves you completely and will be overjoyed to take your hand. She will at last get to do what was promised to her at her birth—marry the best of men.”
“She is coming,” Gen said, rising as he felt her near.
Mirelle stood as well, straightening her dress and peering into the darkness. The Chalaine, Maewen, and Gerand crested the hill, mother and daughter racing to each other and embracing, crying for joy. To Gen’s surprise, Gerand approached him and extended his hand.
“Well met, brother,” he said, smiling. “It is good to know that the best swordsman on Ki’Hal has returned in these difficult times.”
Gen took the hand, surprised. “How did you know?”
“Your disguise isn’t that good, though without the scars you aren’t nearly as frightening as you were back then. The Chalaine also told me of your return, but I knew before then.”
“Do Volney and Dason know?”
“No,” he said. “Should we inform them?”
“Not yet. My condolences for your father. He will be missed.”
“I don’t have words, Gen. They burned him, just like they tried to do to the First Mother. If I didn’t have responsibilities here, I would ride for vengeance now.”
“We will make this right, Gerand, I. . .”
Gen turned just in time to catch the Chalaine as she leapt his arms and clamped onto him. Gen wrapped her up.
“I knew you would save her,” she said, “I just knew it. Thank you.”
“You are welcome,” he returned. “It’s good to see you again. I missed you.”
She moved in close to his ear. “We need to be alone so I can take this veil off and give you a proper welcome.”
Gerand cleared his throat and they turned to find everyone smiling at them sloppily.
“Why Gerand,” Mirelle said, “there was no need to interrupt them! I think it was just about to get more interesting. But we do have a lot to talk about and to do. Let’s sit for a moment. Gerand, I understand that you know who Gen is. I will let you stay to hear this if you will swear that if you cannot support what we are about to do, that you will at least keep silent on the matter.”
“I swear it.”
“What do you intend to do, mother?” the Chalaine asked. Gen intertwined his fingers with hers.
“We intend to take back Mikmir in a rather unorthodox way,” Mirelle explained. “I’m afraid it involves you getting married to someone famous and a lot older than you.”
The Chalaine’s fingers dug into Gen’s hand. “I will not marry anyone except for love, mother! How could you even think I would consider. . . Why are you all smiling?”
Mirelle asked, “What if that person was Gen, dear?”
“I accept.”
“And would you still accept it if Gen was impersonating Aldradan Mikmir?”
“What?!” Gerand and the Chalaine said at once.
“You heard me.”
“I would marry Gen if he were a gong scourer, but why Aldradan Mikmir?”
As the First Mother explained her reasons, Gen watched the Chalaine carefully, trying to gauge her reaction to the plan he and Mirelle had carefully put together over the last two days. She had lived her entire life with the weight of expectations upon her, and probably wanted nothing more than to fade into a life of safety and solitude with those that she loved. As her mother talked, the Chalaine leaned into him, her grip tight and her posture tense. She was frightened.
Mirelle continued. “Once Gen is on the throne as Aldradan Mikmir, and with you at his side, we should have enough support to put a good force into the field to see if we can stop this travesty. I can see Mikkik sending an honored and delighted Athan into Elde Luri Mora flanked by the nobles from three kingdoms. What a great laugh Mikkik will have when Athan destroys us all.”
Maewen broke in. “Gen, do we know what will happen if he uses the sword there? Lady Alumira heard Mikkik say it was the destruction of Ki’Hal, but how, exactly?”
Gen thought for a moment. “In lore, Elde Luri Mora is the heart of Ki’Hal, the place from which Eldaloth’s life-giving force flowed. When we were there, did you note the eternal blossoms on the trees? Once they bore fruit. When Mikkik struck Eldaloth down, Elde Luri Mora and the world still lived, but the holy place was wounded in the same way I wounded Mikkik. It is an injury that has no power to kill, but no power to heal, either.”
“I saw the difference between the world before Eldaloth was struck down and after,” the Chalaine added. “Aldemar showed it to me. Before Eldaloth died, the world was marvelous and vibrant, and it was a feeling more than anything, a vibrancy that filled Ki’Hal. If Elde Luri Mora is what is left of Eldaloth, then destroying it will be dire in scope, I am sure. Its existence has tormented Mikkik for centuries, but he needed my blood to finish it, and I gave it to him. Perhaps it would have been better that I died than let him take my blood as he did.”
Gen pulled her in close. “He would have had his blood one way or another. He was willing to bleed every living creature on Ki’Hal dry until he had enough essence to do it. This is our chance, now. That sword can destroy Elde Luri Mora. It can also destroy him. It will be out in the open during their journey, so it’s time to turn the tables on Mikkik and do to his caravan what he did to ours. They wanted the Chalaine. We want the sword. I will lead what army we can muster in the next few days and take them east to do it. Mirelle and the future Lady Mikmir will remain safely in Rhugoth while I get this done.”
“Lady Mikmir,” Mirelle smiled. “I like how that sounds. It is settled, then. Tomorrow Gen will become Aldradan Mikmir. Maewen will work with him to get the details of his clothing and armament right. The rest will be up to Gen. Remember, Gen, that you were to be a bard. It’s time to review your lessons on theatricality and performance. You’re about to put on an act like the world has never seen, and we need a virtuoso performance on the opening night.”
“It is bold, and it is cunning,�
�� Gerand opined, “but time is your biggest enemy. There is only one Portal close to Echo Hold, and as soon as the Church gets wind that there is a rebellion in the offing, they will guard that Portal with everything they’ve got. Even if the word gets out that Aldradan Mikmir wants to muster men, a week will hardly be sufficient to organize everything, especially with most of the armies scattering and going home celebrating. Getting Mikmir under our control in that amount of time would be difficult. And why the need for the wedding? Though I can see it is a desired event.”
“The wedding serves a number of purposes, besides the obvious one of bringing two people together who love each other together,” Mirelle answered. “At the very least, I hope it will draw some of the leaders away from the Procession of Glory, sparing them whatever horrific end Mikkik has in mind. Given the choice of a four or five day journey through the wilderness or a wedding celebration of a legend returned from the dead, we are hoping more than a few will choose the wedding. This will give us an opportunity to persuade them and get their support.
“Besides that, the massive influx of people through the Portal will make it nearly impossible for the Church to control it without causing a rebellion. If we can get the leadership to bring soldiers with them, then we will have the force ready to march.
“But your point about time is well taken, Gerand. The fighting for the Portal to Echo Hold we cannot avoid, and I fear it will be bloody, but I hope to take Mikmir without shedding any blood whatsoever.”
“How?”
“Aldradan Mikmir will simply walk in and ask for it back. When he rides through the streets of Mikmir with the Chalaine at his side, a mob will follow, and I am betting that the Church will not want to dampen these festive times by engaging in a bloodbath of innocent people. Gen assures me he is powerful enough to make them miserable for trying.
“If all goes well, the wedding will take place in five days, and Gen will march the sixth day. There will be blood on the streets of Tenswater, but that cannot be helped. Once through the Portal, they ride hard to catch the Caravan. This all begins tomorrow, and we will be working through the night to prepare. Now, how stand matters with Regent Feldebrinne?”
