Upon the Flight of the Queen

by Howard Andrew Jones

  Try as she might, she couldn’t hold onto the emotional distance that had plagued her after their retreat.

  Only a few short days ago, she’d been looking on this entire experience as an adventure, a delay that would keep her at Varama’s side for a while longer. She sneered at her naïveté. She understood now that the longer they lasted here the better were the chances they’d be discovered. It was only a matter of time before someone slipped up, or left a track, or was spotted when they thought they were being cautious. This place was a death trap, mostly of Varama’s design, but not just for the Naor.

  She sat back against the wall near the sentry, thinking she’d remain awake, then was jarred back to consciousness by the clank of booted feet on the ladder at her back. The two sentries with her waited with ready spears, focused on the descender as Sansyra climbed to her feet and steadied herself against the wall beside the ladder.

  She needn’t have worried. As the boots came down the ladder, it was clear they were those of a squire. Finally, Lemahl dropped down the last two rungs, returning a salute from the cautious sentries. His plain face broke into a warm smile as he caught sight of Sansyra, who held off hugging him in front of the Alantran soldiers, lest they get the wrong idea. Instead, she took both his arms and clasped them tight, and he grinned at her through his beard.

  “You look happy.” Was he overjoyed simply at sight of her? If so, that was a new development, and one she wasn’t sure how to assay.

  Lemahl chuckled at her. “I have good news.”

  That was a relief. “What kind of good news?”

  He glanced at the two sentries, scruffy with their beard growth. “You won’t believe me.” He searched her face, and his own expression fell. “What’s happened? Did you kill Koregan? I thought for sure you had; the Naor were out in force.”

  “He’s dead. We lost Denalia.” She glanced over at the sentries.

  Lemahl let out a slow sigh. “I’m sorry to hear that. Come on, I’ve got to report.”

  They started down the hall, leaving the sentries at their station.

  “I didn’t realize you two were close,” Lemahl said.

  “I didn’t realize we were, either,” Sansyra admitted. “Maybe we weren’t. But she was brave and good, and she’s dead. Varama had to shoot her,” she added.

  He looked at her sharply.

  “Denalia was surrounded and weaponless.”

  “That’s terrible.”

  That was an understatement. So was her acknowledgment. “Yes.” Sansyra let out a long slow sigh that did nothing to relax her. “She shouldn’t be dead. None of this should be happening. I can’t believe…” She grew conscious of Lemahl’s concerned look, and pulled herself together. There’d been a panicked edge to her words, hadn’t there? “It’s useless to complain about fairness, I know. She’s just one more loss we can’t afford. I don’t know how much longer we can do this. The Naor aren’t stupid. They found one of our tunnels. We collapsed it, but sooner or later they’ll find a way in.”

  “We may not have to hold out for too much longer,” Lemahl said with great confidence. A smile levered at the corner of his mouth again.

  Even in times like these, his good nature was irrepressible. “You really must have good news.”

  “I do.”

  “Can you say?”

  “I’ll tell Alten Varama. You can hear then.”

  She walked at his side, quietly pleased to see someone so happy. It occurred to her that she hadn’t actually known happiness for a long while, except in small ways—if the momentary thrill of returning alive could be considered small.

  While she’d napped earlier her dream had been rich with stone sculptures and fountains; strange and beautiful painted beasts that smiled and sprayed water. Maybe the dream had been inspired in part by Lemahl, who came from a family of stonemasons. Like many of Varama’s preferred squires, he had an artistic bent, and his sketchbook was full of little doodles of faces in stone.

  It wouldn’t be a bad thing, she thought, to design fountains. She had enough of a grasp of the fundamentals that would be necessary to get them running, and she could certainly design their outer look. In concert with some stonemasons, she might make a go of it, and bring a little pleasure to whomever looked at them. They’d stand for long years after she was gone. And that was a better testament to a life, she thought, then a lonely statue in the Hall of Heroes and a dry list of battles where she’d spilled blood and witnessed comrades fall.

  Looking at the confident Lemahl, she wondered if he might want to join her, startled at the idea that she might be considering him as more than a business partner. Well, why not? She was one rank higher, but that wouldn’t matter at all if they both left the service. He was a good man, brave and resourceful and cheerful. He’d be fine company. She eyed him, thinking that while he wasn’t especially handsome, she had always liked his smile and the way he made the best of bad moments.

  She reached out and patted his shoulder, then he grinned at her once more.

  “We’ll get through this,” he promised her. “You’ll see.”

  They found Varama in her little office, the half circles under her eyes darker blue than ever, even though the eyes themselves were fever bright. Sansyra idly wondered if the machinery within the alten’s mind would keep turning long after the body itself failed.

  Lemahl kept grinning confidently even during his salute. At Varama’s command to report, he filled them in about the success of the mission. The escaped soldiers had been received by Enada’s troops. “And they have reinforcements,” he said. “Close to two thousand foot soldiers, a mixed company from Arappa and Erymyr! It’s even better news, Alten. The Erymyrans were sent to help at a Naor siege of Vedessus, but they weren’t even needed, because the Naor army at Vedessus was wiped out! Including Mazakan!”

  Sansyra felt relief wash through her at that. Gods, it was nice to know the Naor weren’t unstoppable. And this meant that Varama’s preparations had left them as well positioned as she had hoped.

  Varama didn’t smile, but her slow nod spoke volumes. “Who commands the allied forces?”

  “Here’s the unbelievable part,” Lemahl said, and looked over to grin at Sansyra before he continued. “N’lahr’s alive! I met him. It’s really him, Alten. He’s in command!”

  Sansyra stared in disbelief before turning to take in Varama’s reaction. She had occasionally seen Varama surprised, so she knew what that looked like. All the woman did now was tilt her head and nod, as though she’d expected something of the kind. How could she possibly have known?

  Varama let this titanic revelation pass without further comment. “Did you report our situation to him?”

  Lemahl looked a little deflated by his superior’s response, but gamely pulled himself together. “Yes.”

  “And did he have ideas?”

  “He did,” Lemahl said. “But he wished to speak to you directly. “

  “I see. So we’ve a difficulty to surmount.”

  “Can you be sure it’s really him?” Sansyra asked Lemahl. “Couldn’t it be a trick?”

  Her friend spoke with certainty. “It was him.”

  Varama apparently agreed. “The trick was his faked death. Did he divulge where he’d been?”

  “There wasn’t a lot of time,” Lemahl admitted, “but he mentioned that Alten Kyrkenall and Alten Elenai had freed him.”

  “Alten Elenai?” Sansyra repeated. Had she heard that right?

  Lemahl nodded quickly. “Yes, N’lahr himself saw her rise to the ring.”

  Just a few weeks ago, Elenai had been a fifth ranker in line with her for N’lahr’s parade. Dead N’lahr’s parade. Now N’lahr wasn’t dead, and Elenai had jumped straight on past sixth rank and gotten herself a ring. And found a hero of legend. Some people had all the luck. Sansyra was puzzled and a little ashamed to recognize envy, particularly curious since she was starting to be certain she didn’t want that ring. She often found Elenai’s relentless drive a little ir
ritating, though she’d liked her well enough and certainly respected her dedication. She knew she should be pleased for her.

  Varama was speaking. “I’ll be interested in all the details later, Lemahl, but stay focused. Did N’lahr suggest a means for communication?”

  “He gave me one, Alten.” Lemahl presented a cloth bundle pulled from a belt pouch.

  “And what will I find when I unwrap that?” Varama said without accepting it.

  “It’s a hearthstone shard. N’lahr says he’s linked to it. And here’s another he said you’d put to good use.” Lemahl fumbled with his pouch and produced a second cloth-wrapped parcel as Varama grunted appreciatively.

  “N’lahr’s no mage,” Sansyra said.

  Lemahl nodded, as though he’d said something similar, then hefted the smaller bundle. “He says he’s linked to this one because of the way he was imprisoned. He wants to talk to you through it at your earliest opportunity. It’s actually very dangerous for him and if it gets into enemy hands, well…”

  “Place them both here.” Varama patted the little table in front of her and Lemahl stepped forward.

  The alten carefully lifted the wrappings away to expose two crystals, one with a sheer side as though it had been cut precisely in half while the rest was as irregular and compellingly beautiful as it’s neighbor, albeit a different hue. Sansyra knew on the instant they were hearthstones. She had assisted Varama with her own secret hearthstone back in Darassus, and even without slipping into the inner world, to her eyes the cut one looked a little duller.

  “Interesting,” Varama said, finally, but showed no inclination to touch either.

  “Do you think it’s a trick?” Sansyra asked.

  “No,” Varama admitted. “But as I open this peculiar shard I want you to monitor the situation. Tap it for energies so you don’t drain your own power, but don’t touch the other one yet. I want to keep that one closed. If there’s a Naor mage working spells somewhere close they might be able to sense even this damaged one once open. Watch for tendrils of intent. Warn me immediately if you sense them.”

  “Yes, Alten.”

  Varama looked over to Lemahl. “Thank you, Lemahl. You’ve done well. Seek rest and food. Sansyra, are you ready?”

  Sansyra was weary, but she nodded her assent. If Varama could force herself forward through her exhaustion, then so could she. She raised a hand in farewell to Lemahl and knew a profound sense of loss as he slipped through the door and closed it behind him. She’d only just gotten him back, and now he was leaving.

  Varama had already turned her full attention upon the stone.

  Sansyra opened her sight to the inner world and considered the cut shard as Varama activated it. It radiated at best a tenth of the power she’d detected from the one Varama used to work or the one next to it. Perhaps that owed to its smaller size.

  She reached out with her will and made tenuous contact with the stone’s exterior. Instead of being energized she merely felt … normal. This shattered stone at the least seemed to bolster her so that spell work didn’t drain her. It just wasn’t revitalizing her in any way, as a hearthstone usually would. And that was a shame, because she could really stand a boost.

  Once rooted to the hearthstone, she looked outward, rather than inward. Such was the intent when watching for magical intrusions. She’d practiced being alert for them while Varama had worked with her hearthstone in Darassus. Until two week ago, she’d always looked on it as merely an exercise. She understood now that Varama had expected someone might be watching her one day when she was using them, whether it be Naor mages, or someone loyal to the queen.

  She couldn’t help but be aware of Varama’s own consciousness, now reaching deep within the stone. She deliberately kept apart from her mentor’s thoughts, yet sensed her, as she might hear the vibration of a lute string gently touched. And momentarily that string shook violently.

  Varama was in contact with another mind, and speaking with it.

  Varama sent: It’s good to speak with you again. I had hoped you might yet live, but I feared you were in custody of the Naor.

  The responding mind, which Varama seemed to have already accepted as N’lahr’s, obviously had no sorcerous instruction, for his emotions bled all over his communication, along with the occasional stray thought.

  As he communicated his reply, Sansyra sensed a mix of concern and relief as well as a worry that the Naor might listen in.

  Well met, Varama. I hear you’re stirring up the Naor.

  In contrast, Varama’s response was utterly controlled, revealing only what she willed. How are we in contact? Is there a sorcerer on the other side, aiding you?

  Sansyra certainly didn’t sense another sorcerer, but then she didn’t sense the stone’s connection to N’lahr, either.

  It’s just me. There was an accident seven years ago and one of the side effects is my connection with this stone. With this came a torrent of powerful feelings of betrayal, fear for self and others, anger, helplessness, confusion, even some shame.

  You took a risk having it sent into the city. Unless you have become skilled with magics you’re in great danger if the Naor get hold of this. They could use it to attack you directly and from afar.

  There was a grim humor in his thoughts. You’ll have to ensure that doesn’t happen. As for the risk, this was the one certain way of speaking freely with you.

  Partly he had been worried that this hearthstone wouldn’t work; he had wondered whether he might still receive contact when the other half was with someone else. Someone he’d sent far away.

  I have my second-in-command listening in. N’lahr, this is Squire Sansyra.

  Sansyra focused her words, although she knew her own excitement and even a measure of shyness was conveyed. It’s an honor to meet you, sir. She still had a hard time imagining this was real.

  He wished to speak of other things, but was striving not to grow impatient: Thank you. He did not say that Varama’s faith spoke well of her, but his thoughts intimated it. Now we must make plans.

  Of course, Varama replied. Sansyra will monitor for us. I’ll appraise you of our situation and we’ll decide how best to achieve our goals.

  As Sansyra listened in over the next few minutes, she grew to understand that Varama spoke to someone she recognized as an intellectual equal. She’d never heard her do so before, and that in itself was interesting enough.

  So far as she knew, N’lahr had none of Varama’s artistic or mathematic gifts. She did not expect that he contemplated trajectories, or bottled gasses, or plotted the course of stars, nor that he analyzed metallic compositions. On the surface, he had none of the same interests. And yet as they spoke it was with shared direction and purpose. Varama never had to backtrack and explain herself, and she never once questioned whether N’lahr understood her. On his part, he spoke concisely but with great precision. When talking to other people, Varama almost always poked and prodded for more information. N’lahr seemed to provide her with exactly what she required.

  In part, she thought, the success of their conversation might have risen from their long familiarity with one another. Yet Sansyra sensed it was more than this, that he wasn’t moderating his communication because of Varama’s idiosyncrasies. This was how he usually talked. In their own way, each was a genius, and freed from the constraints required by conversation with ordinary mortals, the exchange of their ideas was swift and certain, though sometimes a little hard to follow.

  Sansyra realized that the strong emotions leaking through N’lahr’s dialogue were only accessible because of the unique circumstance for this form of communication. He sometimes seemed a bit chagrined by the obvious spillage of feelings he normally kept under tight rein, but was undaunted by them. This was a form of bravery she hadn’t before considered, and Sansyra found herself honored to be listening in.

  Soon each had laid bare the strengths and weaknesses of their positions, and what each proposed doing about them. As Varama laid out her plan, Sans
yra couldn’t help expressing some silent shock at its audacity, and felt N’lahr’s admiration as well. Varama had laid the groundwork for a moment like this from the very start.

  How much additional preparation time will you require? N’lahr asked, a question laced with concern.

  We can be ready by dusk three nights from now.

  That pushes things very close. Tretton reports that an advance force from Chargan’s army is four days southeast of the city. His worry for the city was palpable.

  You have a plan to deal with them?

  For now, we monitor, but I’ll lay an ambush at Trenellis pass to slow them. His anxiety switched to how many under his command he might lose in such a maneuver.

  Does the queen know you are alive and free?

  She is likely to have learned by now. That is a talk for another time. It’s dangerous for me to use the stone for any longer.

  Very well. Be alert for exalts.

  Of course.

  They were so matter-of-fact here. It would have been easy to dismiss both as emotionless if Sansyra wasn’t sensing a steady murmur of apprehension from N’lahr’s side of the communication.

  Signal me tomorrow night with an update.

  May the fates smile in your favor.

  They bade each other a bloodless farewell, although N’lahr’s fond feeling toward Varama swelled over them. As the contact ended and Varama set the stone aside, Sansyra wondered if the alten had experienced reciprocal feelings toward N’lahr. Had it pleased her to speak with someone at the same level as herself?

  There was certainly no knowing from her expression.

  Someone else might have stopped to compare opinions about what they had just experienced, but Varama had no need for that. “We’ve much to do. But we should rest before we begin preparations for the final push. See that I’m awake by four bells.”

  Sansyra saluted. “Sleep well, Alten.”

  “And you.”

  She left the office for the cool, dim hallway. She was both surprised and pleased to find Lemahl lounging outside.