“It’s hard to know how to decide things in the heat of battle,” Rylin said. “She must have seen something else that needed to be accomplished.”
She met his eyes, and he felt that gaze like the blaze of the summer sun. “So many died on my watch, Rylin.”
“You can’t blame yourself for that.”
“I do blame myself, wondering what more I might have done. If there were mistakes I might have foreseen. A word of advice I might have offered that would have saved just one more.”
“Even if so, you would still mourn for the rest of those lost.”
“Of course! It’s not logical. I know that. But I will mourn them for the rest of my days.”
He hesitated, then broached a subject he would never have known was delicate before a few days ago. “I should like to extend my condolences to you for Renik. I hadn’t realized that the two of you were close.” At her pained expression, he regretted saying anything at all. “Forgive me,” he added.
“You are kind, Rylin,” Varama said. “I’m not angry with you. It is foolish of me, but after N’lahr was found alive, I began to hope that Renik might live as well.”
Just as Kyrkenall hoped still for Kalandra, he thought. He wondered if there had been something more between Varama and Renik. If so, he’d never heard rumors about it, and the squires were always eager for gossip about the Altenerai. Thus most had heard about the prolonged, sweet courtship between the stern Master of Squires and his husband, and Denaven’s affair with the queen.
But then Rylin had since learned of other relationships that had somehow remained secret, like Denaven’s long infatuation with Rialla, or the famously amorous Kyrkenall’s abiding love for Kalandra. Might Varama’s regard for Renik be another tale of doomed love? Or was he merely reading more into it than had existed?
“I’ve read the histories,” Rylin said. “We know how much all of you who knew him revere him. Renik must really have been something.”
She stared off into the distance, as she so often did. This time, though, her pale blue eyes held a lost and wistful quality. She did not speak for a long while, and he held off saying more, for he could tell she gathered her thoughts.
“Imagine N’lahr without the somber demeanor,” she said finally. “Someone who knows exactly what to say, and to do, but who bears that weight casually. I do not mean to belittle N’lahr. He’s excellent at what he does, and accommodates himself to others because he has to to achieve his goals. He’s far better with people than I’ve ever been—he certainly inspires greater loyalty. However, he keeps who he is pretty tightly hidden, as do I, and I think only those who know him best truly love him.”
She smiled sadly. “Renik wasn’t like that. Everything came easily to him. Athletics. Magic. Friends. Some people born with such gifts lord it over others and foster jealousy. But Renik led. He gave of himself. Generously. Maybe he wasn’t the very best swordsman the Altenerai ever fielded, but he was certainly close. And maybe he wasn’t the very best mage, but he was surely in the top ranks. N’lahr is a better general. No one, I think, has ever approached N’lahr in that arena. But Renik was born to command. He inspired all of us. He never stopped working. Until the queen’s hearthstone obsession, all his labors seemed easily borne. You would have liked him. He would have liked you.”
“I wish I could have met him.”
“In a better world, you would have.” He had never heard Varama sound so bitter. “It was the queen who killed him, with her selfish and relentless search for hearthstones. It is her I blame, even more than the Naor, for Alantris, and for Sansyra, and for Darassus, and for Asrahn and Kalandra. And for Renik. I wish that those of us who were close had not looked the other way so easily. We, too, must shoulder blame. Decrin and Asrahn and Tretton were too loyal to the laws, living by their wording instead of their intent. I was too absorbed with my own studies, walled off from the rot around me. Belahn and Cerai were corrupted and Kyrkenall lost with his own woes and Enada with her own joys. Remember that, Rylin. That we must do more than serve. We must stand sentinel not just for outward threats, but for those insidious inward hazards as well.”
“I’ll remember.”
“I think you will.” She shifted closer to the desk. “Now I have enjoyed your visit, but I must return to work.”
He climbed to his feet. “Do you want me to send in some food?”
“Thank you, no. I do not want to risk damaging these documents.”
He reached for the door and then turned, his hand on the latch. “Do you know, there’s something I’ve always wondered.”
“Yes?” she answered, with an ease unfamiliar to him.
“I once asked why you chose me to help you, instead of the other junior Altenerai.” He smiled, thinking how he had once bristled to be described as junior, then continued. “You said there were three reasons. That I needed more to do, that I had a connection to Tesra, and then you said there was a third thing you’d keep to yourself.”
“Yes,” she answered, and said nothing more.
He looked hopefully at her.
She chuckled. “And you wonder about the third? Oh, Rylin. Lasren would have required vastly more work than you, and Gyldara was grieving and unlikely to be swayed by logic. You were the only choice. You did need something to do, so you didn’t end up like the worst of us, and you had connection to someone within the exalt auxiliary. It was a series of circumstances that proved fortuitous.”
He nodded to himself. “So there wasn’t a third reason?”
“Of course there was. You remind me of Renik.”
He hesitated before answering, lest his chest swell with pride. “That’s high praise.”
“Yes. You are different, of course, and you haven’t his inborn magical endurance, but there are clearly similarities.”
“Well. That’s unexpected. Thank you for that.”
“I couldn’t have told you then, of course. You were fairly insufferable already.”
“I guess I was.”
“Go. I’ll send for you if I need you.”
He put his hand to the latch, then turned a last time as he opened it. “You can always send for me, Varama, and I will come.”
She bowed her head solemnly to that. “I know. Thank you.”
10
The Sorceress in the Dawn
As a young squire Elenai hadn’t understood how the veterans could center themselves upon the moment rather than worrying about the future. She no longer felt that a mystery, for as she finished fastening her khalat, noon today seemed as distant as the stars themselves, a remote possibility well beyond her reach. With even the dawn still hours off, her gear was packed and ready, complete with a well-balanced, razor-keen new sword that the master-of-arms Sharn had presented her the evening before.
A squire lingered outside the door to her suite, in case Elenai should call for his aid. She did not. Her morning prayers were complete, and she had twice reinspected her equipment. Fully dressed, helm under her arm and satchel over shoulder, she left her rooms. As she neared the stair Rylin stepped into the dimly lit hall. The two exchanged greetings then started down the steps together.
In the rooms below they joined N’lahr, Kyrkenall, and Varama, along with Thelar, M’vai, and Meria. The three exalts now served in the role that Denaven had always pledged, falsely, that he intended them for, as a Mage Auxiliary of the Altenerai Corps. A fourth faithful exalt with healing talents had survived the battle of Darassus, but formally resigned, declaring he would prefer to serve the realms by continuing to treat the many still recovering from their wounds. None of the hospitalized exalts or aspirants could yet be trusted, but squire Pelin was working with them.
By unspoken agreement, everyone at the tables kept the conversation superficial, speaking only of the quality of the food and other light matters. Even Kyrkenall kept his sardonic comments to himself this morning. The sun was still anticipated rather than evident when they left the hall. Stars sparkled in the cool air. Torches flare
d in their wall niches, setting the well-brushed flanks of waiting mounts aglow as they approached the stables.
Tending those horses were squires, both the two dozen assigned to ride with them and those few stationed to remain in Darassus. Some held the reins of the animals and the rest came to attention at Elik’s sharp command. Near the front, Elenai spotted four former aspirants; the skinny man and the trio of young women were now indistinguishable from the surrounding squires, for they were garbed in leather and ringmail armor, breveted to second rank.
N’lahr halted before Elik, at attention at the formation’s front. “How stand your soldiers, Squire?”
Elenai’s old friend saluted. On his sleeve shown the diamond of an alten of the sixth circle. “Accounted and ready, Commander.”
N’lahr’s eyes roved over the group, some forty strong. “You seem to have more warriors here than I mean to deploy.”
Elenai knew the commander well enough to detect a lightness in his tone.
“Yes, sir,” Elik said. “The corps is here to send us off. They wouldn’t take no for an answer.”
“Well then,” N’lahr said. “There’s only one thing to do with that.” He put a parade snap in his voice. “Altenerai, exalts, stand as one!”
Elenai and her companions smartly formed a line facing the squires.
“Squires, attention!” Elik barked. As one, the men and women in tabards behind him brought heels together, even those beside mounts. As they saluted, N’lahr and the Altenerai and exalts returned the gesture.
“We thank you for this honor, squires,” N’lahr said.
They were simple words, delivered with gruff feeling. An outsider might not have understood the significance of the gesture both the squires and the Altenerai had formally traded with one another, but Elenai teared up.
The commander ended the moment as simply as it had begun. “At ease.” He paused as the squires and their officers relaxed, then spoke in a softer tone. “Find your mounts.”
Kyrkenall was first to lightly swing onto a small bay.
Elik led Elenai to a horse farther down the line. “I was sorry to hear about Aron,” he told her. “I think you’ll find Gemon here dependable; he has a similar temperament.”
Gemon proved a piebald with black cheeks. Elenai was certain Elik had already triple-checked the tightness of the girth and the fit of the bit, but she checked them herself anyway.
As soon as all the appointed warriors had mounted, the remaining squires came once more to attention while a bugler sounded a fanfare. At that same moment, a pair of squires opened the gates leading out of the inner city and N’lahr ordered his troops forward.
While Varama had been named second-in-command and would normally have ridden at N’lahr’s side, the commander had pointed Elenai there instead. She hadn’t asked about the positioning, and assumed it related to her status as almost-queen.
Elenai had promised Brevahn she would finally attend a formal swearing in ceremony upon her return from this battle and he had grudgingly assented, saying that would suit, since elections for new councilors were going to be held over the next week. After the battle—and she hoped her survival was not an arrogant assumption—she would have seen Darassus through its most dangerous period, and could turn the crown over to someone better suited for it, like Governor Verena.
On the surface, this idea sounded like the perfect solution to her problem, so during the rare idle moments of the preceding days she had wondered why she sometimes felt such reluctance at the thought of stepping away from the throne.
Beyond the gate to the inner wall, she discovered another honor. No matter the early hour, the people of Darassus lined the streets, solemn and bleary-eyed under the boulevard lanterns.
A lump rose in Elenai’s throat, along with an immense sense of affection and pride for the adults and children who had turned out to watch their departure.
By the time they had neared the immense sandaled bronze feet of fallen Darassa, Elenai felt a change in the air, an expectation she knew meant the approach of dawn. There was as yet no glow of it upon the horizon, but the world tensed for its coming.
Beside the city gate waited members of the assembly, Governor Feolia, Brevahn and the surviving councilors, and other dignitaries, along with the officers and soldiers of the city guard, even the injured ones in their bandages and casts. They saluted, hand to heart.
N’lahr ordered his command to return the salute, then activated his ring and lifted it, sapphire outward. The Altenerai with him repeated the gesture. So, too, did the exalts, each of whom now wore sapphires themselves, along with the aspirants and a scattering of higher-ranked squires.
Over the history of the corps, rings occasionally had been loaned to worthy warriors, a few of whom had later risen to the seventh circle. But never before had rings been granted to so many. Every spare sapphire had been fitted into a housing. N’lahr had ordered it done, confiding later that the queen’s attack against Elik and Lasren had proven those who didn’t wear the rings, or remain near those who did, were in mortal danger from Leonara.
A few hundred yards beyond the city gate, thirty of the allied Naor waited beside one of their immense, shaggy land treaders, a behemoth that was a dark mound against the horizon. As they neared it, two horse-mounted warriors in the small Naor host started forward.
N’lahr ordered his own warriors to halt, then bade Elenai to ride with him. The two met Vannek and Muragan between their forces.
The Naor general raised his hand in greeting.
Elenai returned the gesture, momentarily distracted by a flutter of wings to her left. A quick glance clarified: a flight of ko’aye circled the air, and two were descending.
Drusa and Lelanc, almost surely. Though the situation had been explained to the feathered lizards, neither had been entirely certain they wished to fly through a portal—apparently Lelanc had conveyed her dislike of the experience to Drusa—or fight on a side with Naor. Now Elenai saw the distinctive outlines of saddles upon their backs and smiled, knowing how they had decided.
“Hail, General,” N’lahr said to Vannek.
“Hail, Commander and future Queen,” Vannek said. His voice was hoarse this morning.
“Good morning, General, Coadjuter,” Elenai said. This had to be the reason N’lahr had placed her beside him.
Muragan formally bowed his helmeted head. He had traded out his robes for simpler garb, covered over with sturdy ringmail.
“Varama has finished a special protective measure.” From a pouch, N’lahr removed an amulet upon a necklace. Elenai heard the rattle of its robust chain as he gathered it and extended it toward the Naor leader.
Vannek looked down at the stone in the circular housing. In the darkness, it was not clearly identifiable by color, but the general must have recognized the cut. “This is an Altenerai sapphire,” he said doubtfully.
“It is,” N’lahr confirmed.
Vannek’s voice was sharp with challenge. “You expect me to wear it? A symbol of your people?”
“It is an honor,” Elenai began, but N’lahr raised a hand to her.
“I loan this gem so that you might live.”
Vannek’s reply was cool. “I can live without it.”
“Unlikely,” N’lahr said curtly. “Heed me well, General. The queen can slay with a single spell. Even Alten Lasren, wearing a sapphire, was not shielded from her. But Alten Varama has modified every single stone in our arsenal so that all are linked. So long as you are within the radius of an active sapphire, a zone that extends out to a spear’s length from your body, you are shielded by the power of every sapphire upon the battlefield.”
Vannek still did not take the offered necklace. “What of the rest of my people? Is there nothing for them?”
“Had I the means, I would protect us all,” N’lahr said. “But I lack a treasury of sapphires. They are apportioned to those I expect to find closest to the old queen. And I loan this to you, not only because I expect to see you there,
but because our alliance is nothing without you.”
“You should take it,” Muragan advised.
“I will take your sapphire.” Vannek thrust forth his hand, and N’lahr placed the jewelry in his palm. “I thank you. How does it work?”
“Its protections activate when magics are used against you.”
Vannek peered at the gem as if it would reveal secrets, even in the gloom. He removed his helmet to place it around his neck, and Elenai glanced down at her side to make sure her own helm was still ready on the saddlebag strap.
The general adjusted the necklace so that it lay beneath his armor, speaking as he did so. “If it takes only a minor adjustment to make your sapphires more powerful, why wasn’t this done before?”
“This is more than just a minor adjustment,” Elenai replied. “It required a substantial application of effort and ingenuity.” She decided against revealing that the sapphires would likely be drained by this action. Under normal use their powers regenerated, but Varama hadn’t been able to guarantee they would recover from this strain, and had no idea whether she could restore them if they faded completely. The loss of the sacred rings, along with so much else, was a worry for another time.
Vannek finished adjusting the pendant chain when it was completely tucked beneath his garments and turned to his sorcerer. “I advise you to ride close, Muragan.”
“I’ll do my best.”
“Your men are ready?” N’lahr asked.
“They are ready, and eager. When will your sorceress open her portal?”
Almost as though she had been listening, Rialla appeared a dozen paces to Elenai’s right. She was far brighter than any other figure on the battlefield, as if she stood in a beam of light.
From the Naor came unmistakable gasps. Vannek straightened in his saddle and passed his hand through the air in a swift gesture Elenai couldn’t follow.
The murmuring among the Naor continued for a moment before a harsh voice from their ranks silenced them.
When the Goddess Wakes Page 12
