Artesans of Albia

by Cas Peace

  Kester gripped his arm with crushing force and spun him about, pointing to the far end of the village. Almid was already sprinting for the tight knot of men just visible in the distance. They were being harried by Parren’s forces, pushed slowly but inexorably toward the treacherous marshy ground around the pond. Robin saw Ky-shan’s unmistakable form, his few remaining men around him, struggling to fend off a furious Parren. Cursing, Robin and Kester rushed to their aid.

  “Parren!” roared Robin. “Stand off! He’s a friend.”

  Parren ignored him, clearly in no mood to relent now that he had a demon in his sights. His bloodlust was up, and as far as he was concerned Ky-shan was a legitimate target.

  The pirates were giving ground, totally outnumbered by Parren’s men, only a few of which had heard Robin’s call and backed off. Still yelling, Robin fought his way through to Parren and barged heavily into him, knocking him off-balance.

  “Put up, put up!” he roared. But Parren, enraged by the interference, bellowed at his men to carry on. Unsure who to obey, some continued fighting. Now, however, Kester and Almid had rejoined Ky-shan and their vast strength forced a stand-off.

  Regaining his balance, Parren whipped round to face Robin. His sword wove in the air menacingly. The two forces stood panting and watching warily, neither side entirely sure what would happen next. Robin and Parren glared at each other, both breathing heavily. Parren’s eyes were hooded and vicious, Robin’s concerned and wary. He was getting tired of this, and desperately needed to know what had happened to Sonten, Heron, and Vanyr.

  He spoke quietly, trying to calm the situation. “Leave it, Parren. I told you, now is not the time.”

  “Oh, I don’t know.” Parren’s voice was dangerously low. “Maybe now is exactly the time. What better opportunity to be rid of a traitor?”

  “What are you talking about?” demanded Robin.

  Baily pushed his way through the press of men and came to stand at Robin’s side. “Come on, Parren, Tamsen’s no traitor. You’ve no grounds for an accusation like that.”

  “Oh, haven’t I?” The dark line of Parren’s scar stood out starkly against his sallow skin. His sword ceased its weaving. “Who was it brought more demons here? Who is obviously friendly with our enemies? Who is defending them, even fighting alongside them? Look at him, Baily! He’s just itching to be gone, to follow his slit-eyed friends! Are those the actions of a loyal Albian? I don’t think so!” He aimed his sword tip at Robin’s breast.

  To Robin’s amazement—and relief—Baily brought his own weapon up, knocking Parren’s aside. “Enough!” he barked.

  Parren stared at him, and Robin smiled faintly. It took a lot to rile Baily.

  “I won’t listen to your spiteful defamations, Parren,” he said. “You’re being ridiculous. Blaine has no reservations about Tamsen’s loyalty, and neither do I.” Turning to Robin, he said, “Go and do what you have to, Rob. Parren and I will clear up here and report back to the General. And don’t worry, I’ll see the correct story gets told. If needs be, your friend Paulus will back me up.”

  “Thanks, Baily, I appreciate it.” Robin eyed the silent but furious Parren as he would a poisonous toad. Then he turned to the stocky pirate. “Ky-shan, what can you tell me about Sonten and Vanyr?”

  Chapter Eleven

  Robin and the pirates walked slowly back to Taran’s cottage to the sound of a vicious row erupting behind them. Ignoring Baily and Parren, Ky-shan told Robin what he had seen inside the tunnel and how he and most of his men had managed to flee the structure before it imploded. Only three seamen had failed to emerge, and those who had escaped were immediately swept off their feet by the blast. Thanks to Vanyr’s warning they had all covered their ears, saving them from permanent damage. Even so, some were still partially deaf and they all had splitting headaches. Robin could sympathize—his own head was throbbing like a drum.

  “So Vanyr, Sonten, and Heron were all caught inside the tunnel?” he asked. “With the Staff?” Ky-shan nodded, and Robin’s heart quailed. “Oh, gods. Let me see if I can sense Vanyr, though I don’t suppose he could have survived.”

  On entering the cottage, Robin dropped wearily into a dust-covered chair. He calmed his aching mind, sorting Vanyr’s psyche pattern from the others he knew and longed to contact. His senses ranged through the Veils, easily following the disruption caused by the imploding tunnel. Its echoes were everywhere, and he knew that every realm would have felt the aftershock, although none as intensely as Albia and Andaryon.

  Finding the tunnel’s intended exit, he cast about for signs of life. There were no traces of Sonten or Heron in the substrate, and Robin hadn’t expected to find any, but neither could he detect Vanyr. He reluctantly concluded they had all perished inside the tunnel, as Ky-shan had indicated. Withdrawing, he sat with his splitting head in his hands, wondering how on earth he was going to tell Sullyan the precious Staff was lost.

  He began to tremble as tears pricked his sore eyes. He was going to lose her after all. He couldn’t believe they had come this far, gone through so much, only to be defeated like this. If only he hadn’t underestimated Sonten so badly. If only he had arrived sooner. If only he had been nearer to Sonten when the tunnel had opened. He had never even considered the possibility that Sonten might force Heron to open a trans-Veil structure right in the middle of the village. It was suicidal madness, and Heron should have known better. But Robin had completely failed to understand the depths of Sonten’s ruthlessness, and now Sullyan would pay the price. He didn’t know how he would bear it.

  The pirates moved around the little cottage, throwing out more rubble and clearing the fireplace. One of them gathered splintered wood and lit a fire. It was full daylight now, but it was still early and the sky was cloudy, promising rain. The cheerful blaze dispelled some of the gloom and lamps were lit so that the little house soon resembled the cozy home it had once been. A couple of the pirates went to round up their scattered horses, bringing the nervous animals to the front of the house, including Robin’s Torka. From their supplies, they produced the inevitable bottles of brine rum and some food. Robin accepted what he was offered, although his head was still pounding and depression was making him nauseous.

  Ky-shan put a hand on his shoulder. “Why don’t you get some rest, lad?” He sounded so much like Bull that Robin’s vision blurred. “We’ll watch here. You grab a bit of sleep. We’ll wake you if anything happens or your friend rouses. Though, by the looks of him, he needs a week of solid sleep.”

  Robin could think of no good reason to refuse. It was still too early to contact either Blaine or Bull, and he would feel better after a couple of hours sleep. Thanking Ky-shan for his thoughtfulness—and cautioning him unnecessarily to be wary of Parren—Robin went into Taran’s room, rolled himself in a blanket, and lay down on the floor by Cal’s bed. He fell instantly asleep.

  + + + + +

  Sullyan, Rienne, Bull, and Taran stayed together, waiting for dawn and willing their headaches away. Rienne lay curled in Taran’s arms on the bed for comfort. Servants brought them fresh fellan and food, but only the fellan was consumed. Sullyan remained silent and withdrawn, not knowing what to do. She was unable to cross the Veils to see for herself what had happened, and Taran also was unfit to travel. Bull could have gone, but she was unwilling to send him alone, and her other allies, Ky-shan and Vanyr, were with Robin and probably caught up in the catastrophe. Jay’el was totally untrained, although she toyed with the idea of sending him and Ki-en with Bull to stand for the big man if he needed them. But the near-miss of Bull’s heart seizure made her doubly protective of him and she was reluctant to part with him, although she knew he would go if she asked him. She was helpless, and hated it.

  Dawn was just breaking over the inner courtyard gardens when she made up her mind to send Bull. She knew Robin and Cal were in trouble and could bear it no longer. She would ask Bull to cross the Veils and contact General Blaine as soon as possible to see if he had any details. She
was drawing breath to speak when the faintest touch on her mind made her freeze. Her gaze was an enormous black void as she used all her strength to hear the frail and tenuous call.

  Brynne.

  There it was again, although she had to strain to hear it. Its tone was suffused with pain and suffering, as if the caller was near to death. She couldn’t tell who it was. Following the faint trace in the substrate, she tried to strengthen the mind of whoever was so desperate to reach her.

  Brynne.

  It came a third time, weaker now. But she was ready for it and held firmly to the fading psyche as it slipped, supporting it steadily.

  Hold on, she urged. Do not try to call again. I have heard you. Just stay conscious if you can. Rest, be easy. I am coming.

  As she leaped from her chair, the sudden movement startled the others. Bull rose with her and she briefly considered ordering him to stay, but then thought better of it. Glancing at Rienne and Taran, she said, “You two stay here. Bull and I are going out. We will be in touch when we can. Rienne, will you do what you can to help Anjer and Ephan? They both need attention. If you see Pharikian, tell him we will return as soon as we may, but I do not know how long this will take.”

  “Why, what is it?” demanded Rienne, worry for Cal clear in her tone.

  Sullyan dropped her eyes. “It is Vanyr,” she murmured. “I fear he is dying.”

  Striding from the room, Sullyan called for servants to run ahead and order their horses saddled. There was no time to gather packs or supplies. The faint trace of Vanyr’s psyche was weakening all the time despite Sullyan’s soothing and strengthening hold. She was very much afraid she would lose him before she could reach him.

  On their way through the palace, they picked up Ki-en and Jay’el. The two young men fell in beside them without a word, and Sullyan merely nodded as they strode at her shoulder. Bull spared them a glance, no doubt keen to hear the full story of Sullyan’s sojourn at the palace, but he kept his thoughts to himself as they approached the horse lines.

  Drum and Bull’s horse were saddled and waiting and grooms hastened to ready mounts for Jay’el and Ki-en. Wasting no time, they mounted, the Major casting a covert glance at Bull to satisfy herself he was fit for the ride. She was unable to determine Vanyr’s exact location because the link was too tenuous, but she knew he wasn’t close by. In all probability they had hard ride ahead of them, and she could do without Bull having problems on the way.

  She led them at a fast pace down to the Citadel’s west gate and was recognized instantly by the sentries. They all knew Drum by sight now, and the gate was being opened before she could request it. Leaning over the big stallion’s neck as they passed through, she headed him west of the Citadel hill and urged him into a mile-eating gallop. The others followed suit, and soon they were among the trees. The spires of Caer Vellet disappeared behind them.

  Sullyan briefed Jay’el and Ki-en on what had happened, explaining why they were riding out just after dawn on an early spring day in pale, intermittent sunshine. Fear and concern shone in the young men’s eyes for Ky-shan and their comrades, but she could do nothing to reassure them. Her only thought was for Vanyr. The fading nature of his psyche was forcing her to expend more and more power to keep him alive.

  Following it like a beacon, she held a fast pace for the best part of four hours. The countryside to the west of the Citadel was more thickly populated than the east. There were more in the way of villages and towns, and there were open fields and farmlands instead of forests. These fertile lands supplied Caer Vellet with its staples, foodstuffs, herbs, cloth, wool, and leather. The craftsmen and workers were already out in their fields and workshops, and farmers were making the most of the better weather to get on with the spring planting. Many curious eyes were raised as the four riders galloped past, and more than once Sullyan felt the tentative touch of a trained or semi-trained mind probing hers. But her shields were down tight, as she needed all her concentration to follow that faint and frantic presence in her mind. He was still trying to reach to her, still calling her name. He was failing and desperate, and she was desperate to reach him in time.

  + + + + +

  Someone was shaking his arm and Robin roused instantly, seeing Kester looming over him. Judging by the light, it was some time in the afternoon. Robin hadn’t intended to sleep so long. As he sat up his head began to throb again, and he spent a few minutes expending power to try to ease the pain. It was something of a trade-off because the more he used his power, the more his head hurt. Eventually, he felt he had achieved a balance of sorts and was able to stand.

  As he did so he met Cal’s dark eyes, the young man’s return to consciousness clearly the reason for Kester waking him. The mute knew Cal would be puzzled and maybe alarmed and would welcome a familiar face. As Robin stood, Kester gestured to the pot of fresh fellan on the dust-covered table and then withdrew.

  Robin poured himself a welcome cup and sat on the edge of the bed, noting Cal’s unhealthily pale face. Despite his low spirits he managed a grin. “I never knew you dark-skinned types could go that pale.”

  He was rewarded by Cal’s weak smile. “Neither did I.”

  “How are you feeling? You look awful, if you don’t mind me saying.”

  Cal gave a snort, and then winced. “Thanks, mate! I’ll remember that the next time you get beaten up and have your arm twisted half off. Who did this, by the way?” He indicated his bandaged arm. “And who the hell was that huge man? I take it he’s on our side? I seem to recall him from yesterday, but that was before all hell broke loose.”

  Now it was Robin’s turn to snort. Should he tell Cal, he wondered, that the hell which broke loose had been the Apprentice’s own doing? Maybe not, if the Staff was lost for good. He shied away from that thought—it was too raw. He would save the information for later. Instead, he spent a few minutes describing what had happened since dawn that morning while Cal listened, open-mouthed.

  Shocked and stunned, all Cal could say was, “Bloody hell! Taran’s going to be very grateful to Sonten for clearing out his cellar.”

  The young Captain sighed. “Then he’ll be the only one who is.”

  Cal struggled to sit. “What happens now?”

  Putting aside his cup, Robin helped him. “We’d better get you back to the Manor, I think. Unless you want to stay here, of course. This is your home, after all.”

  Cal stared around the ruined room, the glass, the dust, the mess. “Home? No, I don’t think so. Taran and I were only ever tolerated here, and that was mainly because of Rienne. After this, I don’t think we would be able to show our faces without someone spitting at us. None of the villagers would lift a finger to help me now, except maybe Paulus, and I wouldn’t want to burden him. So I’ll take your offer, if you don’t mind. I know Rienne would be happier if I was at the Manor. I take it she’s alright?”

  His tone was casual, but there was a plaintive note behind it, and Robin cursed himself for not thinking. “Yes, yes, she’s fine. She’s with Sullyan, Bull, and Taran at the Citadel. I’ll contact them later once I’ve made arrangements to get you back to the Manor. I’ll be going back to Andaryon myself soon, with Ky-shan and the rest, and I imagine that Bull, Taran, and Rienne will come back here.”

  Cal gave a huge sigh of relief. “They’re all alive then? I didn’t think Sonten was telling the truth, but ….”

  Robin suddenly remembered that Cal was totally unaware of everything that had happened since Sullyan’s duel with Rykan. He quickly related the events, and also told Cal the significance of the Staff and the reason why both he and Sonten had been so desperate to recover it. Cal was silent when he learned what had happened to it. Robin poured him some fellan and sat in silence while he drank it, not letting himself dwell on what would happen to Sullyan now that the Staff was lost. He was thankful when Cal didn’t ask.

  Robin went out into the street looking for Baily and Parren. He found Paulus instead, at the tavern surveying the damage his premises had sust
ained. Despite the mess, the innkeeper wasn’t too unhappy. The building had escaped relatively unscathed, and doors and windows were easily replaced. His liquor supplies were also largely intact, and both villagers and swordsmen alike would be happy to spend a few coppers drowning their sorrows in ale. He had fired up his big range and some of the women were busy organizing food and warm drinks for those whose houses had been destroyed. The tavern would be a welcome haven and place of comfort while the village was rebuilt.

  With approval, Robin saw some of the Manor swordsmen helping the villagers clean up. The dead were also being dealt with. The Albians—all Kingsmen—were being loaded onto a cart for transportation back to the Manor, but the demons were unceremoniously taken out to the marshlands around the pond and flung uncaringly into their sucking, brown depths. Ky-shan had identified his own dead and had made a large pyre out in the fields. Its smoke drifted lazily away from the village.

  Robin finally located Baily and Parren in one of the least damaged houses, where they were being fed by some of the women. They looked up as he came in, Baily with a tight smile and Parren with a look of undisguised hatred. Ignoring him, Robin addressed the smaller man.

  “Baily, will you see to it that Cal gets back to the Manor? He’ll need a litter or cart, I think, and he’ll have to go slowly. I was going to come myself, but Ky-shan wants to get back and I have to report to the Major.”

  Before Baily had a chance to answer, Parren sneered, “Have to tell her you’ve failed, won’t you, Tamsen?” There was a sly grin on his sallow face. “The Queen of Darkness will have to stay where she is now, won’t she? To die among her own kind.”

  With a suddenness that shocked even him, Robin snapped. He lunged at Parren, slamming him to the ground, sending chairs and food plates flying. The women shrieked and ran from the house. Heaving himself astride Parren’s thrashing body, Robin used his knees to pin the man’s arms while his hands found Parren’s straining throat. He felt the pounding of the other man’s heart and drank in the fear and hatred in his blazing eyes. Robin wished he could find the determination to tighten his hands and squeeze the life from Parren, but his prior impetuousness was gone, replaced by a cooler head and more measured reactions. Had Parren only realized it, despair had made Robin a much more dangerous opponent.