“They come at the bidding of the queen,” Maruman sent.
I looked to the Red Queen, who had dragged herself into a sitting position. “You must jump over the side while the men are busy,” she told her daughter.
Dragon shook her head. “I will not leave without you.”
The queen hesitated, a strange look on her face. Then she smiled and nodded. “I will come with you, of course. Why not?”
“But … Mami, you can’t swim,” Dragon protested.
“I have summoned friends who will help us.”
“The whales?” I asked.
The Red Queen looked at me. “They will deal with the ship. My other friends are smaller and silver-gray. They are some distance away, but they come.”
“Ship fish?”
A smile flickered over her face. “I have heard them named so, though they call themselves Vlar-rei.”
“Children of the waves?” I said, translating from beast-speech.
Her eyes widened. “Who are you?”
“Another who understands the minds of beasts.”
To my amazement, the queen spoke directly to my mind then. “Help me up. There is little time.”
“You have lost too much blood,” I sent.
“My daughter must not fall into the hands of the slavers,” the Red Queen responded.
I nodded and bent to take the queen under her arms. The coppery smell of her blood made me feel sick.
The ship lurched again, and the queen groaned and slumped against me. I helped her to stand upright and was horrified to see fresh blood flowing from the stab wound. Her eyes, cloudy with pain, met mine. “Do not hesitate or all will be lost. More is at stake here than my life.”
“Stop them!” I heard the captain cry, and there was the sound of running footsteps.
I heard the bear roar and a man scream in fright, but I dared not look back. “You must jump with her. You will have to support her until the ship fish come,” I told Dragon.
“I … I am afraid,” she whispered, her face as white as milk.
I reached out and grasped her roughly by the arm, knowing there was no time to explain or coax. “You are the daughter of a queen! Have you less courage than your mother?”
Some of the terror in her blue eyes abated, and she clenched her teeth and climbed the rail. For a second, mother and daughter were balanced there; then they were falling away from me into the churning waves.
I turned to find Maruman and the bear positioned to shield me from a phalanx of seamen, several of whom were attempting to nock arrows to bow strings on the shuddering deck.
“Go now, ElspethInnle,” the old cat sent imperiously. “We will follow.”
I dived over the edge, praying I would not land on one of the whales. There was a swift rush of salty air, and then I hit the water hard enough to wind myself. It was icy cold. I fought my way back to the surface, shedding boots and outer clothes so that I could swim. All around me were the silken black whales, but if they were savage, I could not see it in their mild eyes. There was no sign of Dragon or the queen, but I sensed they were close.
I looked up in time to see a flash of black and gold, and Maruman landed in the water beside me, emanating loathing. Fortunately, although he hated being wet, he could swim quite well.
There was another splash as the bear leapt into the water.
I felt a rush of fear, because we would be easy targets for their arrows. Then I sensed the queen coldly command the whales to destroy the ship. They battered it now with terrifying force. The hull cracked and splintered, and in a remarkably short time, the ship sank, leaving nothing behind but a mess of floating timber. Not a single seaman survived, though I could not tell if they drowned or if the whales ate them. The enormous creatures vanished as mysteriously as they had appeared, and all at once, there were just the five of us, surrounded by shattered splinters of debris, with the sky darkening above and a profound silence about us.
Struggling to control my fear by reminding myself that everything that was happening was part of a dream, I paddled over to where Dragon swam, supporting her mother with obvious difficulty.
“She’s so heavy …,” she gasped.
“Her clothes,” I said breathlessly, and began ripping away the billowing cloth. Only then did I see the water around her was red with blood. I summoned a probe and found her life force was running away as rapidly as her blood. Giving up on the dress, I slid my arm around her neck to relieve Dragon.
“You are bleeding badly,” I sent.
“I am dying.”
“The ship fish …”
“Will bring my daughter to shore,” she sent gently. “The important thing is that she lives and returns to sit on my throne.”
I farsought until I located a solitary ship fish making its way toward us, but it was very far away. Too far for the queen.
“Mami,” Dragon gasped through chattering teeth. “I can’t see the shore, and I’m so tired.”
“The ship fish will come soon to carry you. It will know the way,” the queen murmured. She frowned a little, staring up. “It grows light. I would like to see … to see …” Her voice faded, and I felt her life force dissipate.
“Mami! Mami!” Dragon screamed. She thrashed about so wildly in her distress that she wrenched the queen’s body from my grip and pushed me under the water. I almost panicked, for the draperies the queen wore wound about my arms and face, dragging me down as she began to sink.
I fought my way free and struggled to the surface, trying to drag the queen back up, but again Dragon struck me with her flailing arms and the queen slipped from my grasp. I had no breath left to gather her again, and Dragon gave a hoarse scream of anguish as her mother vanished under the dark waves.
I felt terribly weak all of a sudden, and Maruman sent, “The cords that hold us to our bodies begin to fade. If you do not break the dream, we will drown, and the cycle will begin again,” he sent.
Break it? I thought dimly. I couldn’t break us free without abandoning Dragon, but if I could guide her …
I felt a stab of sheer horror, for she had vanished beneath the waves. Groping about desperately, I found her and dragged her back to the surface.
“You … must … not …,” I gasped, holding her above the water.
“I am no queen,” she whispered. “I should have died instead of her. I want to die.”
I forced myself to answer. “Then she died for nothing.”
“I …,” Dragon began, but a wave slapped her in the face, silencing her.
“You must live and remember all she taught you,” I cried as the waves pulled her away from me. She sank again. This time, before I could dive for her, a silvery ship fish rose up between us.
Its voice entered my mind as fluid and lovely as a song. “The Red Queen begged my aid, but I am only one and can save only one.”
“Save her daughter,” I sent.
Obediently it dived, emerging with Dragon clinging to its shining fin, coughing and sobbing.
“Dragon! Remember who you are, for all our sakes!” I shouted as the ship fish bore her away.
I watched until they were lost in the dark contours of the waves.
“Help me,” Maruman sent, and I found him struggling to hold the bear above the surface of the waves. “He fainted from the wound.”
I wanted to say that it didn’t matter, that we were all going to drown, but instead, I pulled myself wearily to his side and grasped hold of the bear.
It opened its eyes. They were a brilliant and unmistakable green.
“Rushton!” I croaked in disbelief.
The bear merely sighed and closed his eyes again. I felt him slipping from my grasp. I clung, but he was too heavy. His fur pulled from my clenched fingers, and he sank.
“No!” I dived.
Somehow, despite the inky blackness, I could see him as a dark shape slowly drifting downward. Kicking hard, I reached out, but my grasp was too short. My lungs burned, but I kicked again and grabb
ed, this time catching hold of his fur.
“I won’t let you die,” I sent grimly.
I tried to pull him back to the surface, but his weight was too great, and he drew me inexorably with him down into the dark sea’s deadly embrace. I should have let go, but I would not. I could not.
“Maruman,” I sent despairingly, and suddenly we were not so much sinking in the sea as drifting through the air. The darkness lightened, and the pressure on my lungs ceased. I could see the silvery cord drawing me through the clear blue sky, down through pristine whiteness to the world of swirling color visible to my spirit eyes.
I floated above my body, thinking how dull and cold it was, repelled at the thought of confining myself to it.
“You do not live only for yourself,” Maruman sent urgently, and I felt his fear as a sharp blow to the face. Only then did I realize that the cord linking my light form to my body was beginning to fade. Propelled by fright, I sank down immediately, releasing the silver thread, and as it fell away from me, I rose gently to consciousness.
I opened my eyes.
Kella was looking into my face and gave a little scream of surprise. “Elspeth? Are you … Can you understand me?”
I made myself nod.
“It is a miracle,” she breathed.
I licked my lips and summoned the energy to speak. “Dragon?”
Kella frowned at me worriedly. “I don’t understand.”
That meant her condition was unchanged.
“Rushton?” I croaked.
She bit her lip. “Elspeth, we moved you from his room. Let me get Roland or Dameon.…”
“He lives?”
“He … he lives, yet, but is … Elspeth, don’t you remember Darius coming here? What he said?”
I struggled to sit up. “I want to see Rushton,” I said.
Kella protested, but even though I was as weak as a newborn calf, I was determined enough that she agreed to help me into the room where he lay.
He looked exactly as he had before. I thought of my recurring vision of him swimming through dark waters always just beyond my reach.
I laid my hand on his cheek and whispered, “My love, I came looking for you and I found you, but you must swim this last stretch to me.”
He did not stir. Had I failed him after all, then? I had recognized him at the last instant, but maybe that had been too late.
Yet I remembered the feel of rough, wet fur in my fingers. I had caught hold of him—I had not let him go.
I thought then of Dameon’s story of the sleeping princess.
Shaking myself free of Kella’s restraining hands, I leaned over and kissed him on the lips. Summoning the longing of my soul, I called his name with my mind.
His eyes opened.
I heard Kella gasp but ignored it.
“Rushton?”
“Elspeth,” he sighed. A faint, sweet smile lifted the corners of his lips. Then a spasm of anguish wrenched his entire body, and I threw my arms about him and clung tightly until the fit faded. “They … they …,” he panted.
I kissed him to silence. “I know, my love. They hurt you.… We will talk of it later. Now you must rest and regain your strength.”
“You will not leave me?”
“I will stay by your side until you wake,” I promised, taking his hand in mine. “Sleep, my love. Sleep and heal.”
EPILOGUE
“YOU KNOW, THE story doesn’t say what happened after the prince awakened the sleeping princess,” I said. “It doesn’t say if the princess liked the prince, or if they were happy.”
Dameon and I were seated at the window of my turret room, enjoying mugs of cold cider as the sun fell behind the mountains. Maruman was curled on the sill, sleeping soundly.
“Such stories are about events, not aftermaths,” the empath said. “It will take time for Rushton to recover fully.”
I sighed, realizing he would always see to the heart of things. “He will have to face what the Herders did to him sooner or later.…”
“Be patient,” Dameon said mildly. “Has he not resumed his place as Master of Obernewtyn? Didn’t he meet with Brydda and present our suggestions to the rebels admirably?”
“I know he works hard, and outwardly there is nothing wrong with him. But until he opens his memories, they will poison him.”
Dameon sat up and turned his blind eyes to me. “I think you are troubled more because of his manner toward you than because he will not let anyone inside his mind.”
I wanted to tell him he was talking like a fool, but all at once I was close to tears. “Shouldn’t that trouble me?” I asked at last. “He avoids me.”
Dameon sighed and reached out to touch my arm. “If he avoids you, Elspeth, it is because he fears to see your contempt.”
“Contempt!”
Dameon shrugged. “He feels he is failing you, because he cannot yet cope with delving into what happened to him. It would not be so if you did not demand so much.”
I swallowed a bitter feeling of injustice. “Do I demand so much?” My voice sounded flat and unhappy even to my own ears.
“Of yourself, perhaps, as well as him,” the empath said gently.
Blinking back tears, I turned to look out the window. Dusk cast a reddish light over the trees and rooftops, and a warm breeze lifted the hair from my face.
Dameon set his mug down and stretched, saying he had better go. “I want to see Dragon before nightmeal.” He hesitated. “Will you come with me?”
I shook my head. “I am the last person she would care to see.”
“Elspeth, you take her memory loss too personally. The important thing is that her coma has broken. And although no one can get into her mind, Maryon is confident that she will remember all when she is ready.”
“You really believe that?”
He smiled. “I do, and you must as well.”
Dameon rose and embraced me before he left.
I had been devastated when it became clear that, although awake and sane, Dragon remembered nothing. Not only was she unable to recall her distant past, but she also had no recollection of her time at Obernewtyn. All she remembered was her feral existence in the ruins on the west coast, and upon waking, she had barricaded herself in a corner, shrieking and gibbering in fright and confusion. No one had been able to approach her except Dameon, who wooed her with empathy and his own patient gentleness.
When I had visited her, she bared her teeth at me in a snarl, cowering into the Empath guildmaster’s arms. Dameon urged me to persist, but as yet, I had not been able to bring myself to it.
I wandered back to the window and sat on the sill, enjoying the breeze and watching everything vanish into shadow. I felt less melancholy than when the empath had arrived with a jug of cider, and I suspected he had been subtly empathising hope and comfort to me the whole time we had talked. I had imagined my distress over the rift between Rushton and me was unnoticeable, but of course, Dameon had sensed it.
I took a deep breath of the sweet night air and counseled myself to be patient, as Dameon had urged.
“At least they are safe here at Obernewtyn,” I murmured aloud.
That was more than could be said for all the Misfits trapped on the west coast or for Domick. The coercer-knights had been unable to locate him—or Miryum, who had completely vanished with Straaka’s body. Neither had Brydda managed to locate Daffyd, who needed to hear that his beloved Gilaine was alive in the same distant land as Matthew. The likelihood was that both Domick and Daffyd were on the west coast, but there was no way to be sure until the rebel ships were completed.
Brydda felt these would be ready to sail by the end of the following spring. A year away. And it would be at least that long before I could begin to search for the clues and signs left me on the west coast by Kasanda.
Unless Swallow returned for the diving suit.
I reached into my pocket and withdrew Fian’s tattered translation and read it through, though by now I knew the lines by heart.
I sighed and thrust the paper back into my pocket.
I had learned much since the beginning of the rebellion, yet still I had not managed to find a single sign left by Kasanda. In fact, I was still trying to come to terms with the fact that the Cassy of my dreams was the Sadorians’ revered Kasanda and the gypsy D’rekta.
And that Ariel was the dreaded Destroyer.
“Have patience,” Maruman sent.
“It is harder to wait than to act,” I responded.
Maruman sniffed contemptuously. “Time does not care about you, ElspethInnle. Nor this barud nor any who dwell here. It cares nothing for this world nor for your quest to save it.” His mindvoice had taken on a fey tone that chilled me, and he turned to stare out at the moon, newly risen above the jagged horizon.
It was fat and red. An ominous moon, almost full.
“Maruman …”
“The moon waits,” Maruman sent distantly. “The H’rayka waits. The glarsh waits. All wait for ElspethInnle to walk the darkroad.” He looked at me. “Are you so eager to walk it?”
I licked my lips and found them dry. “I don’t want to leave Obernewtyn. I love … I love it here. But my whole life has shaped me to go.”
“And go you will,” Maruman sent sternly, turning his single flaring eye back to me. “When all things are as they must be. Until then, eat the days and nights that come. Do not wish them gone/away. They will succor you when all is dark and you are alone.”
His words frightened me, but they also drove away the last remnants of my melancholy. Dameon was right. I had felt that Rushton was failing me, and Dragon too. That they were getting in the way of my quest. In truth, it was I who had been failing them.
The Rebellion Page 85
