by Ellyn, Court
“We found a few stray sheep,” he called. In the back of the cart, wooly sheep shifted about. “They bleat something awful. We think they may be yours, King Crow. We’ll return them if you and your army abandon my castle. Matter of fact, we’ll return them even if you stay. Aralorri sheep don’t suit my pallet.”
Degan and his escort had galloped away, and cautiously, suspecting a trap, Keth had ridden out to inspect these sheep. Four of the outriders had been sewn into rotting sheep hides. Their eyes had been plucked out and their mouths sewn shut. The old punishment for spies. Their pleas for help sounded much like the bleating of lambs.
“Food, my lord?”
Keth started and found Laral holding a tray. “What?”
“Supper. His Majesty missed you at table. I think he wanted to speak with you.”
Though he had no appetite, Keth placated the boy and gnawed on a heel of stiff brown bread.
The slow grim wagon train arrived safely within the shadow of the walls. The host of dwarves, meanwhile, built Lord Kassen’s pyre in a broad field of gray grass and doused the wood with the scented oil reserved for highborns. Nearby, squires and infantrymen dug a shallow pit for burning the common dead. At sunset the pyres would be lit. If this rain continued, the Burning might dwindle for a couple of days.
Leaning on a rain-streaked merlon, Laral glowered at the dwarves who now gathered in a circle about the pyre. They swayed slowly back and forth, and their deep gruff song hung on the misty air:
“Bright eyes dim in the red setting sun
And the iron blade is sheathed.
When song of battle is stilled and done
Valiant sons the Fires receive.
“He was just there to watch,” Laral said. “Lord Kassen, he wasn’t going to fight. Why did he have to die?”
Keth squeezed the boy’s shoulder. “War is not often just, Laral. The arrows don’t care where they fall.”
“The night we took Nathrachan, I was excited. War was … something else to me. Now it’s … I don’t know … ugly.”
“So. You see it with a man’s eyes.”
Laral regarded his foster-lord with quiet surprise. Perhaps he had expected Keth to be disappointed in him for feeling this way. After a thoughtful moment he asked, “The dwarves won’t leave us, will they? Now that Lord Kassen is dead, I mean. We won’t run out of men?”
Keth dealt his squire a man-sized clap on the back. “Don’t lose heart, lad. We’ll not run out of men, not yet. And if I know Brugge and his ilk, they will be fighting for another reason now.”
Laral snapped to attention and bowed. King Rhorek topped the tower stair and emerged onto the battlement. “Thought I’d find you here,” he said, trying to sound cheerful, but it was no good. Keth was astonished by how much Rhorek had aged since spring. Gray stood out starkly in his beard and at his temples. The flesh under his eyes sagged; the creases between his eyebrows were etched deeply after long days of worry and sorrow. His belt had grown too big for him, and his love of life, mead, and meat was faded in his hazel eyes. He surveyed the preparations for the Burning with a leaden expression. “Did the war during our youth last so long?”
“Three years,” Keth replied.
“You’re sure? My memory fails me.”
“When I left Ilswythe, the twins were newly born. When I returned, they did not know me. They were running about the castle, and I was a stranger there.”
Rhorek looked round at his old friend, and Keth saw deep resentment in his face. “Do you regret now having urged me to declare this war?”
“No.” Keth held the king’s eye. “I regret that we had to fight. I’ve always regretted that. But I still believe there was no other course.”
Rhorek looked away, clearly in disagreement, but he was too weary to argue.
“Laral mentioned you needed a word with me, sire?” said Keth. “Had you summoned me, I would’ve—”
“Never mind,” Rhorek replied, raising a hand. “You were busy seeing to our warriors. That’s more important than—” Whatever was on his mind greatly distracted him. Exhaling, he said, “I’ve made up my mind to go to Graynor. I will appeal to Bano’en for aid.”
“That’s not necessary—”
“It is.” Rhorek lifted his chin. He would not be moved. “If nothing else, an alliance with Leania will surprise Shadryk. And our men are tired, Keth. I look in their faces and I see it. I listen to their voices and I hear it.”
Keth couldn’t argue. An influx of fresh forces would work wonders to revitalize his men.
“I had hoped,” Rhorek went on, “that we could gain the victory on our own. But …”
“There’s no guarantee that Bano’en will aid us, even if you abase yourself.”
“You’re right. But, at least, I would have the assurance that he would not aid Shadryk either.”
“When will you go?”
“My Guard and I head out tomorrow.”
Leania. A memory sent a shudder through Keth. Etivva’s fever-mad eyes pinning him. Don’t go to Leania … Had the cry come from fear of the journey she had survived? From the pain of her injury? Or from something else? Keth had never had much use for the shaddra and her religious ways. Why start now?
“I will see you to the border,” he said.
“Are you sure? Can our people spare you?”
“I’ll leave Davhin in charge. He’s the most level-headed of this lot. Besides, we gave our Fieran friends quite a beating this morning. They may not be broken, but they’ll be licking their wounds for a time. And battle season is almost over. If we are not delayed, I can be back here in less than ten days.”
“I would welcome your company, old friend.” Rhorek’s face saddened. He was watching the dwarves as they marched despondently toward the gatehouse to retrieve Kassen’s litter. “They loved him, didn’t they.”
“I think so.”
“Who would’ve thought … ? But, then, Kassen never offended anyone.”
“Quite the man, who leaves behind no enemies,” Keth said.
“You and I, I’m afraid, will leave a different kind of legacy.” Rhorek squinted into the mist. “Isn’t that young Leshan?”
Across a field strewn with withering wildflowers, a golden head and a bright blue surcoat drifted alone, without apparent purpose.
Keth chuckled. “Could be Lander from here.”
Laral looked troubled. “What’s my brother doing out there by himself?”
“Run and fetch him, lad,” Rhorek requested. “I have a proposal for him.”
Laral bowed and raced away down the stairs.
“Kelyn, too,” added Rhorek.
Keth was suspicious. “What proposal, if I may ask?”
Rhorek kept his plans to himself. “I’ll speak with them in the knights’ parlor.”
~~~~
Rhorek laid a folded black surcoat in Kelyn’s hands and another in Leshan’s. The young knights gaped at the embroidered silver falcons.
“Before we left Bramoran,” Rhorek said, “I told you I was keeping my eye on you for a reason. I was sorry to lose three members of my Guard at the Brambles. Two of them had been with me since my coronation. One had served under my father. But I’m confident you two will fill their shoes just fine.”
Lining one wall of the knights’ hall, a handful of Falcon Guards had been invited to witness the induction of their new brethren. Lieutenant Lissah stood among them. “Sire, if I may,” she said. “Black may be too austere for these two clowns. His Majesty might be better advised to outfit them in motley.” The Falcons laughed.
“Don’t worry, men,” Rhorek assured the inductees, “I can’t allow the dignity of my Guard to be undermined by a second hazing.”
Lissah cast Kelyn a subtle wink. They had managed to keep their affair relatively hidden, and by sheer force of will remained straight-faced in the company of others. To maintain the illusion that they still considered themselves foes, they stabbed mercilessly at one another with ridiculing remarks.
It had become quite clear to Kelyn that Lissah enjoyed this method of foreplay even more than he did. Only Leshan and Eliad had been allowed into the lovers’ confidence and, despite protests of disgust, helped them arrange ‘audiences’ with one another. Not that such an affair was forbidden among the king’s soldiers, but it was strongly discouraged. Hearts’ desires too often interfered with duty, and during battle, lovers had the tendency to risk their lives for one another, rather than retain their good sense. So until Lissah felt comfortable enough to reveal their secret, Kelyn would likewise remain silent. Besides, there was something arousing in all their sneaking around.
“Tonight, my Falcons,” Rhorek was saying, “we prepare for a long ride. King Bano’en has invited us to Graynor to discuss an alliance. Extra blades and boats will be a welcome addition to our efforts.”
“Evaronna’s pirate fleet isn’t enough?” Kelyn quipped.
Rhorek held up his hands. “I must trust His Grace’s judgment in the matter. We have little time to concern ourselves with blockading Fiera’s ports, and barely enough time to spare for our journey to Leania. So we must make haste. At dawn we depart.”
“Sire,” Leshan broke in. “Forgive me, but I can’t accept.”
Kelyn regarded his foster-brother with bewilderment. For months he’d been aware that Leshan wasn’t himself. First he was just sick with fear, but that passed and he became broody, grim. Kelyn expected him to open up and talk, but he continued to keep his troubles to himself. “Leshan, don’t …”
“Guard, dismissed,” Rhorek said. “Leshan, Kelyn, stay.”
The Falcons filed from the parlor. Following last, Lissah mouthed to Kelyn, “What’s wrong?” He returned a small shrug.
When the door shut, Rhorek took Leshan gently by the shoulder. “You decline the honor of joining my Guard?”
“I must.”
“Why?”
Leshan looked stricken, pale. “I’m not …” He glanced sidelong at Kelyn, then ploughed ahead, “I’m not worthy, sire.”
Rhorek looked as confounded as Kelyn felt. “Have you … broken your oath of knighthood?”
“No,” Leshan answered quickly, then recanted. “Perhaps. I have not fought with courage, sire. With madness rather than courage.”
The deep lines in Rhorek’s face softened. “You think this an uncommon thing? I assure you it’s not. But the fact that you continue to ride when the order is given belies your assessment of yourself, Leshan. Listen closely, both of you. The men who fear and fight are, in my opinion, the bravest men of all. Those who go into battle without fear are, likewise, without true courage. They fight because that is what they do. That is what they value. And that disturbs me.
“But you, Leshan, you value something else. What you fear is that you may never see your dreams realized, either by your own death or by this war dragging on forever. Am I right?”
“No. I steal other people’s dreams.” His dark eyes focused on inner horrors.
“Ah, so it’s the suffering you inflict, the dying.” Rhorek nodded dolefully. “That’s the reality a soldier can’t afford to dwell on. Twenty years ago I dwelled on it. My doubts nearly consumed me.”
“How did you escape your doubts?” Leshan asked, desperate.
“I didn’t,” Rhorek admitted. “I still haven’t. But that’s not the same as allowing them to overcome you. I swallowed my fear and learned what true courage is. When my father was slain, I had no choice. Neither do you.” Rhorek’s smile was full of affection. “I’m entrusting my life and my realm to your hands, Leshan. You are worthy. More worthy than many. And I refuse to allow you to decline and give in to your fear.”
~~~~
33
After Kieryn demonstrated his skill with fire, Zellel introduced him to the other three elements. By the time the winds turned from the north, Kieryn was able to summon a puff of wind, gather a small cloud gray with rain, and tap into the wells of water hidden within the earth. Zellel warned him to keep his workings small, for like fire, each of these elements had their dangers.
Earth proved to be the most difficult to work with. Its bonds were more compact, its substance heavier and less pliant. Water was almost as sluggish and cumbersome to manipulate. But air was as flighty and recalcitrant as a colt newly introduced to the halter. It didn’t take Kieryn long to decide that he preferred to work with fire. On a whim, he would light a candle from across the room, snuff it out; ignite logs in his hearth, extinguish them; sit cross-legged on his rug as he had on the yellow grass and summon a finger of fire to watch it dance in mid-air. Each time, the workings cost less effort and less pain.
Then at last, Zellel taught him the nature of the white blast he’d conjured to kill the assassin and the ogre. “Just as hunger prompts an animal to eat, or fear prompts it to fight,” Zellel said, “necessity awakened this instinct in you. Some level of your brain knew what it was capable of. When it sensed danger, it acted.”
At the expense of a long-dead thellnyth tree, high on the cliffs north of the palace, Kieryn learned to execute this feat at will. He practiced a long time before he learned the difference between regular fire and this hot, white energy. It wasn’t exactly lightning, but it wasn’t true fire either. Still, the blasts broke the air with sharp reports of thunder. Some of the bolts darted wide of the tree’s naked bones and blasted craters in the hillside. Black fissures spread out from the holes like webs in broken glass, and the long grass smoked.
“A fine opportunity, boy,” Zellel said, raising a hand to stop Kieryn from attacking the tree again.
“For what?” he snapped. His aggression was up, and he didn’t appreciate being interrupted.
“To work with your least favorite energy. The holes, the cracks, mend them.”
“Why?”
“Are you merely a destroyer, then?”
Duly chastened, Kieryn turned his attention to the wounds he’d inflicted. Body aching and trembling, sweat dripping into his eyes, he held his palms flat to the scars and willed the earth to close and the seeds that the grasses had dropped at the end of summer to sprout and fill in the craters. After the fourth crater vanished, Kieryn fell back onto his haunches, panting, hands raw.
“Good. Now—”
“No more,” Kieryn pled.
“Nonsense,” Zellel argued, but instead of issuing another order, he exclaimed, “What in the Abyss is she doing here?”
Near the cliff’s edge and silhouetted against a clear turquoise sky, Rhoslyn stood watching them. She carried a large basket on her arm, and her hair blew as free as the long grass in the stiff north wind.
Kieryn grabbed the chance to rest. Steadying himself on quaking legs, he hailed her.
“Hnh!” Zellel grunted.
As Rhoslyn drew closer, Kieryn saw the amazement on her face. “I assumed you were doing well,” she said, “but … I had no idea.”
“You saw?” Warmth rose into his face, a delicious kind of warmth.
“You move the earth itself, Kieryn.”
“It’s a trifle,” Zellel argued. “He would accomplish great things, indeed, if he were not interrupted.”
To Kieryn’s surprise, Rhoslyn rounded on the old man, like a dog determined to steal the bone from another. “It’s my turn, Zellel. You’ve had him for weeks, all I ask is one afternoon.”
“Now is the time for him to learn, to concentrate on things besides—”
“Besides me?” Rhoslyn broke in. “So that’s it! You’re Kieryn’s driving influence, aren’t you, Zellel? And you’ve told him I’m the enemy!”
Zellel raised his chin stubbornly. “Not the enemy, m’ lady, a distraction.”
Rhoslyn’s eyes narrowed coolly. “Is that so?”
Kieryn cleared his throat. “Something like that.” He feared she would give in, turn around and march home, angry at them both, but she stood her ground, glaring a hole through the old avedra.
“The distraction wins today,” she said. “And you, Zellel, may return to the palace.”
For a moment, he looked confused, lost.
“We’ll continue tomorrow, master,” Kieryn said, taking pity. Zellel huffed and shuffled away along the cliffs. Rhoslyn turned her cool glare on him, as if expecting him to reproach her, too, but he said, “I’m glad you came.”
She smiled, even looked a bit smug over her victory.
“So what’s this?” he asked, trying to take the heavy basket, but she guarded it jealously.
“More cold weather coming,” she said, starting up the hill above the smoldering tree. The sea stretched away, sparkling to the edge of the world. “We’ve little time left for a picnic.” From the basket she took a thick blanket and flung it out on the hilltop. “It was Halayn’s idea.”
Kieryn returned a puzzled frown.
“She said, ‘Go rescue that lovely boy from that horrible old man’.”
“Lovely boy? I don’t believe you.”
Rhoslyn laughed, pounced on the blanket to keep it from blowing away, and began unloading the basket. “Those were her words, I swear. Her opinion of you has changed remarkably. She said you had a confrontation while I was away.”
Though Halayn had been occupied this summer, helping Rhoslyn play hostess to Evaronna’s highborns, shipwrights, and ballista manufacturers, Kieryn had waited for the moment when his declaration of love for Rhoslyn would see him banished from the duke’s halls, but Halayn didn’t approach him again.
“So this … distraction … is your way of saying I’ve been neglecting you again?”
She grunted, trying to pry the cork from a wine bottle, gave up and passed the task to Kieryn. “You’re reading yourself blind in that accursed library, I know you are.”
“You sound like my mother.”
“Or you’re off with Zellel moving mountains and Goddess knows what. The couple of moments I’ve tried to steal with you, you fell asleep from sheer exhaustion, or is my company that dull?”
He decided he ought not admit how easily he lost himself in thoughts of her, or of the times he’d woven a Veil so he could watch her sleeping. “Your company is impeccable.”
