Magnes awoke with a start and nearly toppled from his seat on the wagon bench to the hard earth below. Knuckling the sleep from his eyes, he yawned and looked down on the stocky brown rump of the cart horse, still in harness and dozing. With the rapidly fading shreds of an unsettling dream drifting across his mind’s eye, he swung his legs over the side then dropped to the roadbed.
Damn it…I didn’t mean to fall asleep!
He spent a few moments stretching and kneading the kinks from his neck, then tramped off the road to relieve himself in the weeds.
When he returned, he found Gran standing beside the wagon, facing back toward Darguinia. Something about the way she held her body warned Magnes not to disturb her.
After several heartbeats, she shook herself then turned around.
“Oh, Magnes. Didn’t realize you were there.”
“Sorry, Gran if I startled you,” he replied.
The old elven woman shook her head. “No, no, you didn’t. I was just performing a farscan. I don’t sense any fast moving groups heading this way from the city, praise the One.”
Like a slave-catching posse , Magnes thought.
“It seems that Aruk-cho has come through for us,” he said, stroking the drowsy gelding’s nose. The beast shook its head and whickered.
Poor wretch , Magnes thought. You hauled us and this wagon most of the night with no complaint, and there’s still no real rest for you yet.
Gran nodded. “So far, it seems that way, yes. But it’s still early. The slave-catchers may yet come after us. Mistress de Guera won’t want to let go of Ashi so easily, I fear. Let’s pray she listens to Aruk-cho and allows him to persuade her.”
Magnes thought about the events leading up to last night’s harrowing escape from the de Guera yard.
I’m sorry Corvin and his men got caught up in all this. Despite everything, I hope it doesn’t go too badly for them. They were only doing their jobs. Armina de Guera is a fair woman, and Aruk-cho will speak up for them, surely!
He shivered, remembering Fadili’s terrified cries as Corvin’s men threatened the young apprentice healer with their swords. Despair had nearly overwhelmed him, but then Gran materialized from the darkness. With arms raised and blue flames crackling from her fingertips she came, and their attackers fell senseless at her feet. He knew Gran possessed Talent, like all elves, and he also knew she had been a member of a powerful mage’s guild. But until last night, he had no real idea of the magnitude of her strength.
He shaded his eyes against the glare of the rising sun and peered ahead past the horse’s limp ears. “What of the group ahead of us?” he asked.
“They’re still there, but they should be moving out shortly and then we can go.”
Gran climbed into the wagon and Magnes could hear her rousing the others. A few moments later, Ashinji emerged followed by Fadili and a yawning, sleepy-eyed Seijon. Ashinji looked pale but steady as he dropped from the wagon.
“How are you feeling?” Magnes asked, searching his friend’s face.
“Tired, but otherwise, not too bad,” Ashinji replied. He nodded toward the verge of the road and Magnes’ mouth quirked in understanding.
After they took care of their bodily needs, they shared a quick meal of bread and cheese. Fadili then saw to the horse and they piled into the wagon to resume their flight. Gran sat up front beside Magnes in order to scan the road ahead and behind with her magical senses.
The morning sky was clear and bright, the air fresh and full of the scents of damp, growing things. The road stretched ahead into the distance, rising and dipping with the land, passing through fields verdant with spring wheat, and orchards in full, glorious bloom. The wagon rolled past cottages and small manor houses, muddy farmyards guarded by belligerent geese, and pastures tenanted by complacent cows.
For a good part of the morning, they had the road to themselves, but eventually, faster carts and wagons began to overtake them, as well as individuals mounted on horses and mules. Other than a few curious looks from passersby, they attracted no particular attention. Magnes set a deliberately slow pace, so as to stay well behind the large group of people traveling ahead of them. It chafed him to have to do so, especially with the risk of pursuit from the city still so great, but the possibility the group up ahead might be an armed company also concerned him.
As the morning wore on, the sun climbed higher along with the temperature, leaving them all damp with sweat. Squadrons of dragonflies glided by on iridescent wings while legions of unseen insects shrilled in unison from the bushes and trees, their harsh chorus waxing and waning in the hot, still air.
At midday, they stopped beneath the sprawling shade of an old oak to rest the horse and eat a meager lunch of dried beef, cheese, and bread, washed down with tepid, leather-flavored water. Until now, Magnes had kept his shirt on, out of respect for Gran, but when Ashinji stripped down to his breeches and sandals, Magnes quickly followed suit. Soon, both Fadili and Seijon had also rid themselves of all unnecessary clothing. Gran finally shed her overdress, relaxing on a patch of grass clad only in an unbleached cotton shift.
Directly opposite their resting place, three pairs of horses stood nose-to-rump, flicking flies off each other’s faces with swishing tails. Ashinji went to investigate. He climbed over the fence then approached the animals slowly so as not to spook them, all the while speaking in soft, singsong Siri-dar. Magnes and the others watched as he examined each horse, gently running his hands over their hides and lifting their feet. After he had finished, Ashinji returned, wiping his hands on his breeches, a look of satisfaction on his face.
“They’re not prizewinners, but they’re well-built and sturdy. If we can find their owners, I think we should offer to buy the bay mare and those two geldings there,” he said, pointing to each animal in turn. “Gran can ride the mare, Seijon and I can ride double on the big chestnut, and you can take the piebald, Magnes.”
“Sounds good to me,” Magnes replied and Gran nodded in agreement. “There’s a farmhouse just up the road. Fadili and I will go see if someone is around.”
“Here, take this.” Gran held out a pouch. “There’re fifteen imperials inside. You should not pay more than ten for the three. If you do some shrewd bargaining, though, you might get the farmer to accept seven.”
“I’m a very good bargainer,” Magnes replied then added, “Although maybe you shouldn’t stay here alone. What if…”
“Don’t worry,” Gran said. “No one will bother us.”
“It’s like you read my thoughts!” Magnes looked hard at the old woman, but she just smiled.
After packing a bag with a small supply of remedies, Magnes and Fadili hiked to the farmhouse. They found a plump, florid woman washing clothes in the front yard. After relating their cover story-they were traveling healers on their way to join up with the Imperial Army and they needed saddle horses-Magnes persuaded the farmwife to accept seven imperials, along with some of the medicines he brought, for the three horses. She didn’t ask why two men required three horses. She seemed not to care.
“Could ye throw in some ol’ halters, missus?’ Magnes asked in his best north-country accent. The woman snorted and rolled her eyes.
“’Round back in the shed,” she said, pointing over her ample shoulder.
Magnes and Fadili left her standing by her tub, counting coins.
When they returned, Magnes knew something was amiss even before he saw the grim looks on both Ashinji’s and Gran’s faces.
“The slave catchers are coming, aren’t they?”
Ashinji nodded, his green eyes dark and dangerous. “I’m not going back,” he murmured.
Magnes laid a hand on his friend’s shoulder. “I won’t let them take you, Ashi, I promise. Whatever I, we , have to do, you’ll not be made a slave again.” He looked beyond Ashinji to Seijon, who stood wide-eyed and shaking within the protective circle of Gran’s arms. “That goes for you too, little monkey,” he added. The boy managed a fleeting smile.
“We’d better catch the horses,” Fadili suggested. “How far behind us are they, Gran?”
“A half-day, I’d say. They’re moving a lot faster than we are and will catch up soon if we don’t pick up our pace.”
“Then perhaps now is the time for me to say farewell.” Fadili drew himself up taller, his young face determined. “We knew I would eventually take the infirmary and go my own way. After all, that is what I’m out here for, to serve the needs of the poor. You can travel much faster now that you have horses. When the slave catchers finally reach me, you’ll be long gone.”
“They won’t believe you when you say you don’t know which direction we took,” Ashinji said. “I’m certain Corvin provided descriptions of both you and the wagon.” He paused then added, “They might hurt you, Fadili.”
The young Eskleipan flashed teeth like white tiles set in dark earth. “I’m a Soldaran citizen. I have rights.” His voice shook a little.
“They won’t care about that,” Gran said.
“She’s right. We have to make it look like I forced you.” Magnes grasped Fadili’s shoulder and squeezed. Fear for his young friend’s safety and fresh guilt over the necessity of involving him sat like hot coals in his gut.
“I’m not afraid.” Fadili drew himself up and lifted his chin. “Do what you must.”
“I can block most of the pain then plant some false memories.” Gran moved to stand at the apprentice healer’s back. “Don’t strike until I say so.”
Ashinji slipped behind her and grasped her shoulders. Magnes took a step back and raised his fist. Gran laid her palms on Fadili’s temples. A few heartbeats later, his eyelids fluttered then closed. Gran’s body stiffened.
“Now,” she whispered.
Magnes drove his fist hard into Fadili’s slack face. Blood and saliva splashed his knuckles as the force of the blow sent both apprentice and mage reeling. Only Ashinji’s strength kept all three from tumbling to the ground.
Magnes rushed forward to ease the weight of the unconscious apprentice off Gran and Ashinji. As tenderly as he would his own child, Magnes lowered his friend to the rough roadbed then crouched beside him. He resisted the urge to wipe away the blood leaking from Fadili’s nose and mouth.
“Are you sure he felt nothing?” Tears stung Magnes’ eyes.
“I promise you he didn’t.” Gran knelt and touched fingertips to Fadili’s forehead. “I will alter his memories now. When he wakes, he’ll tell the slave posse how you threatened to kill him if he didn’t cooperate. Hopefully, they’ll go easy on him.”
“Gods.” Magnes rubbed his bruised and bloody knuckles. “The Eskleipans will be horrified when Fadili tells them what he thinks happened.” The realization of how much confusion and hurt they would feel tore at his soul.
“If it’s any consolation, false memories eventually fade,” Ashinji said. “It might take several months, but by then Fadili should be out of danger.”
Seijon sidled up to Ashinji then leaned against him like a puppy seeking comfort. Ashinji draped an arm across the boy’s slim shoulders. Magnes stayed at Fadili’s side, watching while Gran performed the magic they all hoped would spare their friend.
“It’s done.” Gran drew a deep breath. “Help me up, please.” Ashinji held out his hand for her to grasp.
“I’m going to miss you, my brother,” Magnes whispered. He wanted so much to arrange Fadili’s limbs to more comfortable positions, but knew the deception depended on the illusion of violence.
“We must go now,” Gran urged. “We don’t have much time.”
Magnes sighed then rose to his feet. Separation and loss were a part of life, he knew, but why did it always have to be so hard?
Working as quickly as they could, Magnes and Ashinji caught and haltered the three horses. After leading them out of their pasture onto the road, Ashinji tied the lead ropes to the halters to serve as reins.
Gran gathered some supplies into a satchel then swung aboard the little bay mare with ease. Magnes mounted the piebald, grunting as the horse’s prominent spine dug into his crotch. Ashinji must have noticed his discomfort, for he said, “I’m guessing the farmer had no saddle blankets?”
“Don’t know. Forgot to ask,” Magnes replied through gritted teeth.
Ashinji chuckled. “I sympathize, my friend.”
With spare rope from the wagon, Ashinji secured a bag, also filled with supplies, to the back of the chestnut gelding he and Seijon were to ride then quickly mounted. He reached down and grasped Seijon’s wrist then helped the boy to scramble up behind him.
For a few moments, no one spoke. High in the canopy of the stately old oak, birdsong filled the branches with sweet, piping notes. A tiny butterfly, the color of the summer sky, alighted on the back of Magnes’ hand and clung there, its wings opening and closing in languid sweeps.
Perhaps this is an omen that everything will turn out for the best , he thought.
The butterfly fluttered away. Magnes turned to look back at Fadili and the sight of his young friend lying senseless on the road tore a groan from Magnes’ lips. “Gods…We can’t leave him like this!”
“We have no choice. We’ve done all we can to protect him. We must go now.” Gran’s implacable tone left no room for dissent.
“May Eskleipas always hold you in His hands, Brother. I’m sorry.” Magnes wiped his streaming eyes with trembling fingers.
“May the One keep him safe,” Ashinji added. “Which way, my friend?”
“Northeast, cross-country. We should reach Amsara in about two weeks, that is, if we don’t run into any trouble. There’s a smaller road that parallels this one, but I’m not quite sure how far we’ll have to ride overland until we find it. Since the army isn’t going that way, we shouldn’t encounter any patrols.”
“Our only hope now is speed,” Ashinji commented, tugging on his ear and glancing over his shoulder. “We haven’t time to conceal our trail, so we’ll have to outrun our pursuers.”
“Let us pray these horses are up to the task,” Gran responded.
“They’ll have to be,” Ashinji replied, his voice grim. “Lead the way, Magnes.”
Together, the little band of fugitives turned their horses’ noses eastward.
At sunset, they reached the secondary road and turned north once again. They rode hard until moonrise, then stopped and sheltered in an abandoned barn for the remainder of the night. At first light, they pushed on.
They rode now through rolling grasslands dotted with small stands of oak and solitary chestnut trees, populated by sheep and brown-spotted cattle. Isolated farmsteads appeared in little valleys or on windswept hilltops then fell away behind as they pressed onward. It soon became obvious their meager supplies would not last much more than a few days. Finding food in this sparsely settled land would be extremely difficult with no weapons for hunting, and they dared not stop openly at any of the farms along the way. The only alternative was the use of Gran’s magic.
“At the next farmstead we come to, I’ll cast glamours on us,” the old mage said.
Shortly after midday, they spotted a small, thatch-roofed farmhouse standing in a little hollow about a hundred paces off the road. A stand of laurel trees across the road provided a convenient place of concealment where Ashinji and Seijon could wait with the horses.
Even after she had explained and had cast the glamour, Magnes still couldn’t believe his eyes. In Gran’s place, an old human woman with iron gray hair and dark brown eyes stood before him.
“By the way you’re gaping at me, I can guess my glamour is convincing,” Gran sniffed as she tied a scrap of cloth over her head for a scarf. “Now, hold still while I disguise you.” Magnes held his breath as he waited, his eyes riveted on Gran’s every move. A slight wave of vertigo, a burst of tingling along his limbs, and then…
“Ha! You’d fool your own mother, young man,” the old mage commented wryly.
“What do I look like? Tell me!” Magnes demanded.
Ashinji stifled a guffaw behind his hand. Seijon gaped like a startled bird.
“You’ve got a shiny bald head and a big black beard,” the boy squeaked. “You look like a pirate!”
“You do look a bit, uh, frightening,” Ashinji agreed, his wiry body shaking with mirth. “You could pass for a pirate. I think.”
“Oh, don’t listen to them,” Gran grumbled. “You don’t look like yourself and that’s all that matters.”
Magnes found himself laughing as well and it felt good, in spite, or maybe because of, the danger they faced.
As Ashinji and Seijon led the horses deeper into the sheltering trees, Magnes and Gran approached the house along a gravel-strewn footpath. They moved cautiously, expecting at any moment to be challenged by dogs, but the yard remained quiet.
“Halloo!” Magnes called out. “Anyone at home?” He and Gran waited in silence for a few heartbeats before he tried again, louder this time.
“Halloooo!”
After several more moments of silence, Magnes looked at Gran and said, “There doesn’t seem to be anyone around.”
“No, there is someone here,” Gran replied. “I can sense… her . I’m not sure why she doesn’t come out, unless…no, no. I sense no fear. I think she must not be able to hear us for some reason.”
“Let’s go look inside.” Magnes crossed the yard in several quick strides to the door then pushed it open. He stuck his head in and looked around. A rough-hewn oak table and two chairs stood at the center of the room. The only other furniture consisted of a cupboard against the far wall and two more finely crafted chairs beside the unlit hearth. Natural light entering from two small windows and the open door provided the only illumination.
“No one in here,” he called out. He entered and stood, hands on hips, puzzled; then, it occurred to him why Gran could feel the presence of a person here, but yet, the farmhouse appeared deserted. “There must be a root cellar and that’s where the owner is,” he speculated.
Gran entered the room and looked around. “The woman must be hard of hearing, then,” she said. “Let’s get what we need and go.”
In the area that served as the cottage’s kitchen, they found eggs, cheese, butter, bread, turnips, a seed cake, and a large clay urn buried in the floor, filled with beer. A brace of freshly killed chickens hung from the ceiling. They took all of the eggs, a single loaf, one small round of cheese and one chicken. Magnes fished around in his pouch for a few silver coins to leave as payment.
“What’s this, then!”
Slowly, Magnes and Gran turned to face their unwilling host.
The farmwife stood blocking the open doorway, a small club in one upraised fist, a plump matron ready for battle. Magnes, though flushed with consternation, could also not help but feel amused. He took a single step forward, hands folded in supplication.
“Please, missus,” he said. “Me old mam an’ me was just travellin’ by on our way back home, an’ we was runnin’ outta food. We saw yer farm and I did call out but no one answered.”
“So, you thought you’d just come on in and help yourselves, is that it?” the woman replied, voice sharp with sarcasm. Magnes ducked his head as if ashamed, and in truth, he was, a bit.
“I’m real sorry, missus,” he murmured. “But we was goin’ to pay. Me mam and me ain’t thieves.” The woman sniffed and slowly, the club sank to her side.
“Huh, well. Can’t let it get about that I refused aid to them what’s in need,” she huffed.
Especially when there’s money in it for you , Magnes thought. He produced two silver sols and held them out on the palm of his hand. The woman scooped the coins up and promptly secreted them away within the folds of her skirt. She flashed a gap-toothed grin.
“P’raps yer old mam would like a mug of beer before you move on,” she offered, her suspicion transformed into solicitousness by the power of money. Magnes opened his mouth to politely refuse, but before he could speak, Gran stepped forward and tapped the woman on the forehead with her forefinger.
Magnes gaped in surprise as the woman’s eyes grew as round as saucers. Her fat lips stretched wide to scream, but instead, she gurgled, then went rigid.
It’s like she’s turned to stone , Magnes thought. No, more like wax.
“What did you do to her?” he demanded, rounding on Gran.
“We’ve run out of time!” The old mage grabbed his arm and pulled. “Ashi just mindspoke to me. The slave catchers are on our heels. We’ve got to run!”
Magnes’ heart leapt into his throat. “But…but how did they manage to catch up to us so fast?” he gasped.
“I don’t know. It doesn’t matter. Come on!” She led the way out of the cottage and back up the slippery path to the road. Magnes paused for a heartbeat to look back at the house.
“Don’t worry about her,” Gran snapped. “The spell is temporary.”
Magnes turned and followed Gran’s fleeing figure toward the laurel grove where Ashinji and Seijon waited. They found the two mounted and ready to ride.
“I scouted back to that little rise in the road,” Ashinji said, pointing over his shoulder. “I spotted the posse. I think they may have seen me.” Seijon clung with arms locked around Ashinji’s waist, his face drained of all color. The big chestnut pirouetted beneath them, sensing his riders’ agitation. Magnes waited until Gran had scrambled aboard her mare before climbing onto the piebald’s sharp back. Even before he drummed his heels into the horse’s sides, the animal sprang forward, chasing after its fellows.
We’ll never outrun them! Magnes thought, mind reeling in desperation. He began searching the terrain for a place where they might make a stand, but even as he did, he knew in his heart it would be futile, unless…
Unless Gran uses her magic. It’s our only hope!
He urged his horse alongside hers. “We can’t run anymore!” he shouted. “Gran, you’ve got to stop them!” She glanced at him for just an instant, but Magnes saw consensus in her pale eyes. He also saw something else-resignation.
Ashinji, who rode in the lead, pointed ahead to a hill topped by a crown of oaks. They made for it, their tired mounts laboring up the slope. At the top, the horses stumbled to a halt, sides heaving. Magnes slid to the ground and ran to the edge of the grove to look back the way they had come. He spotted the posse, riding hard, heading straight for their position.
“So, this is what it’s come to,” Ashinji said. He had moved to stand beside Magnes and now gazed pensively at the approaching horsemen.
Magnes glanced at his friend. Ashinji’s hair had come undone, and now hung in a rumpled gold cascade across his shoulders and back. Rivulets of sweat cut tracks through the grime on his skin, and the fresh scars from the wounds that had nearly killed him traced angry red trails down his bare flank.
Even in such a disheveled state, Ashinji’s beauty remained undimmed.
Magnes well understood Armina de Guera’s determination to get back her most prized possession. He shivered, beset by a rush of powerful emotion, his body reacting of its own accord to feelings he dared not confront. To do so would only court disaster.
Magnes could never betray Jelena or jeopardize his friendship with Ashinji in order to make sense of his tangled desires. Some lines could never be crossed.
He shook himself and refocused on the present danger.
“Do you know what Gran is going to do?” he asked, looking over his shoulder at the old mage who now stood immobile in the center of the grove, eyes closed, arms hanging loosely by her sides.
Ashinji shrugged. “I’m not sure, but whatever it is, it will drain her. She’ll be incapacitated, perhaps for several days. If we manage to escape, we’ll have to find somewhere to go to ground because she won’t be able to travel.”
“I’m going to look for something to use as a weapon,” Magnes said. It felt like a useless gesture, but he had to do something.
Ashinji put out a hand to stop him. “Magnes, promise you won’t do something foolish to save me. Concentrate on protecting Seijon and getting him away. Armina de Guera won’t pay those men for a corpse, so they’re going to do everything in their power to capture me alive. Seijon is worthless to them, and Gran is condemned for aiding my escape, as are you. If I have to, I’ll surrender to give you three a chance to escape.” Ashinji spoke without a trace of fear or indecision.
“Ashi, I promised I wouldn’t let you be taken and I intend to honor that,” Magnes insisted. “Please don’t make me say otherwise.”
Ashinji sighed, and looked at his feet, then lifted his eyes to meet Magnes’. “You and my wife are a lot alike,” he said softly. “You can both be downright pig-headed when you’ve a mind to.”
Magnes chuckled. “When you see my cousin again, you can tell her that.”
The two young men watched in silence as the posse fanned out to surround the hill, though they made no move to close in; instead, the riders drew rein and waited. After a few moments, a man on a white mule urged his mount forward, cupped his hands to his mouth and shouted, “Come on down, tink! You can’t run anymore. You come quietly and we’ll let the others go.”
Ashinji bared his teeth. “They must think we’re stupid,” he muttered.
Magnes flicked the man a rude gesture with his finger.
Without warning, the ground at the base of the hill exploded.
The hill lurched violently, throwing Ashinji and Magnes to their knees. Acorns rained on their heads as dust billowed in a choking cloud. Screams of terror rent the air. Coughing, eyes tearing, Ashinji crawled to the edge of the grove and stared in disbelief at the scene below.
Tree roots, flailing like the tentacles of a maddened sea creature, had burst from the earth to attack the slave-catchers.
Ashinji watched in horrified fascination as a root the thickness of a man’s arm whipped around the posse leader’s neck and ripped him from his plunging mule. The man struggled and tore at the unrelenting wood, his bulging eyes wild with terror. His face flushed purple before turning gray as his kicks and twists became weaker. Finally, he dangled like a broken puppet, his tongue protruding grotesquely from his mouth.
A second, then a third man each met the same fate.
The others did not wait to witness the final death throes of their comrades. Even as the three victims swung above their heads, they wheeled their panicked horses and fled. None of them looked back.
Dizzy with shock, Ashinji backed away from the slope and rose on shaky legs.
“Goddess,” he whispered through dry lips.
“Ashi! There’s more coming up the back!” Magnes shouted.
Too late, Ashinji remembered the posse had split up to surround them.
He whirled in time to see three men charge into the grove from the far side of the hill, swords raised. They ran straight for Gran, who remained locked in a trance, unable to move.
Gran! Ashinji cried out in mindspeech, but she did not respond. Magnes pelted forward to intercept them, Seijon hard on his heels.
“Seijon, no!” Ashinji screamed. He flung himself after the boy, straining to catch him but even as he did so, he knew he would fail.
Magnes reached the men first, barreling into them like a charging bull, knocking one man flat and sending the second one stumbling to his knees. He pinned the fallen man and started pummeling his face with his fists. The third man twisted aside and lunged for Gran.
Seijon, brandishing a tree branch, leapt in his path just as the slaver’s sword swept around in a glittering arc. The blade sliced through the wood and cut across the boy’s body, sending a spray of blood into the air.
Seijon fell without a sound.
Without warning, a terrible pressure grew within Ashinji’s head, just behind his eyes. With a shout of rage, he loosed it like a taut bowstring. The recoil knocked him flat on his back.
Seijon’s killer burst into flames.
The man dropped his sword and staggered in an erratic circle, shrieking, until he finally collapsed. Acrid smoke filled the grove with the stench of burnt flesh. The two men whom Magnes had knocked to the ground had regained their feet. The one Magnes had beaten leaned like a drunk against his comrade, his face slick with gore. Both men raised their hands above their heads.
“Please, don’t kill us!” the injured man croaked.
Ashinji rose to his feet and without thinking, loosed another bolt of energy. The slave catcher flew through the air then smashed into a tree trunk with a meaty thud. His body slid to the ground, broken and lifeless. Howling with terror, the remaining slaver whirled and bolted away from Ashinji, running hard for the edge of the grove. Magnes lunged but his fingers closed on empty air.
“Let him go!” Ashinji cried. Sick with horror, he stumbled toward where Seijon’s body lay and sank to his knees.
No, no, not you, Little Brother!
The sword had sheared open the boy’s belly, making a ruin of his innards. Death had come swiftly. Ashinji drew in a shuddering breath and gently lifted Seijon’s head to cradle it in his lap.
The boy’s half-open eyes and parted lips made him look as if he had one last thing he needed to say. Ashinji stared into the small face-so pale and still-trying to dredge up from the darkest place in his soul a spark to re-ignite the rage that had called down fire to destroy a man, but he couldn’t. The fire had burnt out, leaving only sorrow and bitter regret in its stead.
“This is my fault,” he whispered. “I should never have allowed you to come with us. If I’d made you stay behind, you’d still be alive.” Hot tears sliced through the dirt on his face. The air in the grove had grown thick and oppressive, as if it had become saturated with Ashinji’s grief and could hold no more.
“No, Ashi. You can’t blame yourself for this. Seijon knew the risks when he begged you to take him with us.” Magnes came up and knelt beside the body.
“He was only a child!” Ashinji brushed a strand of hair off Seijon’s forehead. “How could he possibly have known? It was my job to protect him, and I failed.”
“It was all of our jobs, Ashi,” Gran rasped. She had emerged from her trance and now stood behind him, and when Ashinji turned to look up into her face, he gasped with dismay. The light and strength that had always been a part of her had burnt out, and at any moment, she might crumble into ashes.
“Gran, please, you must sit down!”
The old woman shook her head. “No. If I sit now, I’ll not be able to get up again. I must keep moving, at least until we’ve cared for the boy and left this place.”
“I promised Seijon I’d get him to Alasiri. How am I going to keep that promise now?” Ashinji shook his head and a tear fell to splash on Seijon’s bloodless cheek.
“Back in ancient times, oak groves were sacred to our people,” Gran replied. “It will be a fitting resting place for the boy. Take a lock of his hair, Ashi, and bury it when we reach home. That way, you can keep your promise, at least in a small way.”
His gaze never straying from Seijon’s face, Ashinji tried to rise, but could not make his legs obey. Sudden, crushing weariness had pinned him to the earth.
“Gran, something’s wrong with me.” He had to struggle to lift his head to look at the mage. “I feel so tired.”
“You expended a lot of energy doing what you did, Ashi.” Gran squeezed his shoulder. “You are young. It won’t take you nearly as long to recover. Rest awhile before you and Magnes take care of the boy.”
“I’ll get started.” Magnes bent to retrieve a sword dropped by one of the slavers. “This will make digging easier.”
He walked to the nearest tree and began scraping at the hard soil between two of the twisted roots fanning out from its base. Ashinji watched for a few moments then struggled to his feet.
“I’m all right,” he said in response to the consternation in Gran’s eyes, but in truth, he wondered how much longer he could keep moving. Focusing his mind on the task at hand, he managed to dredge up a reserve of strength left untouched by the flow of magic. Scooping up another discarded sword, he joined Magnes and together they chopped into the stubborn earth. The labor kept Ashinji’s mind off the part he had played in the destruction of the slave catching posse.
When they judged the depression deep enough, Ashinji and Magnes threw down their swords. Ashinji bent to gather up Seijon’s torn body in his arms. Carrying the boy as gently as if he were sleeping, Ashinji then laid Seijon into the grave. With Gran’s small belt knife, he severed a lock of the boy’s russet hair then he and Magnes covered the body, first with a webbing of branches and then a fill of soil and small rocks. To finish things off, they veiled the top in a thick covering of dead leaves. Magnes piled a small cairn of stones to serve as a marker.
When they were done, the three of them lingered beneath the spreading limbs of the ancient tree, loathe to depart, yet knowing they must. To Ashinji’s heart, it felt like abandonment, even though his head knew the folly of that notion. Seijon was dead and beyond any feelings of abandonment. Even though the boy had been born on the streets of Darguinia and knew very little of the elven religion, it comforted Ashinji to believe the Goddess would recognize one of Her own and gather the boy’s soul into Her eternal, loving embrace.
“Goodbye, Little Brother,” Ashinji whispered. “I’m so very sorry.”
Wordlessly, Magnes helped Gran up on her mare, then mounted his piebald gelding and waited. Ashinji twisted the lock of Seijon’s hair into a knot and held it out to Gran who tucked it into her waist pouch. He then swung on his horse and the three of them left the grove behind, riding down the side of the hill through the grisly aftermath of Gran’s magical defense. It would be several days before the terrorized remnant of the slave posse got back to Darguinia to report their defeat, and by that time, their quarry would be beyond reach.
Ashinji looked back over his shoulder and, for an instant, thought he saw a small figure standing at the edge of the grove, a shadow really, backlit by the glow of the dying sun. He blinked and the figure disappeared.
He fixed his eyes on the northern horizon. The exhaustion he had kept at bay until now pulled at his limbs once more. He covered his face, weeping, and thought about how badly he needed to feel Jelena in his arms again.
They took shelter that night inside an ancient mound whose sides had partially collapsed, allowing access to the burial chamber below. Many such mounds dotted this part of the country, along with crumbling walls and weed-choked towers, the remains of an extinct civilization that had once ruled here. Magnes explained that no one knew much about the mound builders. Their world had fallen long before the coming of the Soldarans, and folk hereabouts viewed them with a mix of awe and superstitious dread.
“No one will bother us in here,” he stated. “I’m certain the locals give this place a wide berth. They won’t dare approach, no matter what they see.”
The rubble from the cave-in made a convenient ramp on which to lead the horses down into the burial chamber. Looking around, they could see robbers had looted the grave long ago, leaving behind only a few pottery shards and fragments of animal bone.
After Ashinji and Magnes had cleared an area of debris and had unpacked their meager supplies, Gran spread a blanket on the floor and lay down, closing her eyes. While Magnes built a small fire, Ashinji scrounged some sticks with which to hang their chicken over the flames.
As the bird began to sizzle, dripping fat into the fire, greasy smoke rose through the ragged hole in the roof and swirled away into the star-spattered sky. Ashinji assumed spit duty, turning the bird at regular intervals so it would roast as evenly as possible. After a while, Magnes moved to wake Gran but Ashinji shook his head.
“You won’t be able to rouse her. She’s in a profound state of trance, something practitioners call ‘mage sleep’. I doubt she’ll stir for at least another day,” he explained.
“You look done in, yourself,” Magnes said. “Maybe you should try some of that ‘mage sleep’”
“I don’t know the technique. I’m not trained.” Ashinji rubbed eyes stinging with fatigue. “I’ll be all right in the morning, I think.”
They ate their meal in companionable silence, washing it down with swigs of tepid water. When they had finished, Ashinji set aside a portion of the chicken for Gran, then banked the fire while Magnes saw to the horses. The animals whickered and stomped restlessly as Magnes did what little he could to groom them. “They’re hungry,” he commented. “We’ll have to let them graze a bit tomorrow.”
“I hope you’re right about folk not wanting to approach the barrow,” Ashinji replied. “I’d hate to have to fight off horse thieves.”
Magnes grunted and shook his head. “I’m sure the locals are convinced this place is haunted. They won’t risk getting themselves snatched and drained of their life force by some hungry ghost.” He chuckled, then added, “Or by a soul-stealing elf!”
Ashinji tossed a blanket onto the packed earth and lay down with a grimace. “Ai, Goddess, but this ground’s hard,” he sighed. Magnes, finished with tending the horses, threw his own blanket down beside Ashinji and settled on his back. The two young men lay for a while in silence, staring at the shadow-cloaked ceiling of the barrow.
“I saw what you did to those men, Ashi,” Magnes said, breaking the quiet. “I had no idea your magic was so strong.” In the dark, his voice sounded a little awed.
“I didn’t know, either. I mean, Gran has told me my Talent is very powerful, but it’s been blocked since childhood, for reasons that don’t seem very compelling right now.”
A wave of guilt washed over him, so powerful and bitter it tore a sob from his throat.
“What kind of a monster am I, Magnes?” He looked at his friend and sensing the other’s confusion, added, “I murdered two men. ”
“What are you talking about, Ashi? You didn’t murder…”
“Yes, I did!” Ashinji cut him off, nearly choking on the pain. “The…the one man, he, he…Ai, Goddess! He begged me for his life! I could have let him live, but…but I, I…”
“Ashi, please don’t do this to yourself,” Magnes pulled him into an embrace.
Ashinji covered his face with his hands and gave in to his tears, so lost in self-loathing he could not accept or acknowledge the comfort his friend offered.
How can I ever face Jelena again? How can I even think of touching her, making love to her, with the blood of a murdered man on my hands? When she finds out what I’ve done, she’ll hate me. Goddess, I couldn’t live with that!
“Ashi, Ashi…please…” Magnes murmured, stroking his hair. “You did nothing wrong. Those men attacked us. We were defending ourselves. You are not a murderer. Gods, I can’t stand this!”
Magnes pried Ashinji’s hands from his face and kissed him.
Ashinji gasped and recoiled in shock.
Magnes jerked back, nearly falling into the fire. “I…I’m so sorry, Ashi!” he stammered. “I only wanted to, to make you feel better…I didn’t mean…” He fell silent and looked away.
Ashinji let out a ragged sigh. The storm had passed, leaving behind a quieter, but no less intense guilt in its wake.
“Magnes.”
Magnes flinched, as if stung by the sound of his name.
“Look at me…please.”
The two young men stared at each other for several heartbeats. In the semi-darkness, Magnes’ eyes gleamed with such raw need, Ashinji thought he might weep anew.
“Ashi…” Magnes whispered, breathing hard now as if locked in a fierce struggle with something he dare not allow to win.
Trembling, Ashinji hugged his knees to his chest, afraid of this perilous new landscape he must now traverse. He chose his next words with care.
“Magnes, you are, and will always be, my friend,” he murmured, “But…”
“No, Ashi. You don’t have to say anything. I know, believe me. I know all too well.” Magnes squeezed his eyes shut, and a single tear leaked out, sparking in the fire’s glow. “You are Jelena’s husband, and I know how much you love her. I’m human, you’re an elf. We’re both men. I know all this!” He groaned and covered his face with shaking hands. “But, it still hurts to be so near you and not be able to…to…” His voice stuttered into silence.
Ashinji swallowed hard and raked his hands through his hair, unsure of what to say to ease his friend’s pain.
“This makes no sense to me at all.” Magnes dropped his hands and continued in a hoarse whisper. “I’ve never been attracted to other men before, never, until the day I met you . I felt something for you from the very first moment. I locked those feelings away, buried them deep, especially when I saw how you looked at Jelena. I don’t know why they’ve chosen to resurface now.”
“We’ve been through a lot together,” Ashinji replied in a gentle voice. “I owe my life to you, Magnes. If not for your healing skills, I would have died a slave. That kind of thing forges an unbreakable bond between people. It creates a kind of love.”
“Love is a very strange thing,” Magnes replied. “I loved a girl once, back home in Amsara. I still love her, but she’s married to another man, and even if she weren’t, it would be impossible for us to be together. Yet, I still hold on to the fantasy that I could actually have a life with her.” He stared at the barrow ceiling as he spoke, as if doing so made it easier to confess all of the secret agony in his heart.
“I don’t want to feel this way about you, Ashi. It’s too confusing and painful! I’ve got to push this out of my heart somehow, yet find a way to hold on to that other kind of love we can share.”
He looked into Ashinji’s eyes.
“I love you, Ashi,” he declared. “There, I’ve said it once and I promise I’ll never say it to you again. Now you must promise me you’ll say nothing to Jelena about any of this. I couldn’t bear the thought of her knowing how close I came to betraying her trust.”
“What you’ve said to me will always be just between us, I swear,” Ashinji replied. His heart ached at the profound sadness in Magnes’ eyes, but he knew he could never give his friend what he so desperately wanted.
For a while longer, the two young men regarded each other in silence, then Magnes said, “You have to find a way to forgive yourself for what you had to do, Ashi.”
“I don’t know if that’s possible.” Ashinji picked up a stick and stirred the dying fire.
“Yes, it is.” Magnes extended his hand as if to touch Ashinji’s arm, then let it fall to his lap.
“Then you must take your own advice, my friend,” Ashinji said.
“What do you mean?”
“Your father’s death was an accident. You need self-forgiveness as much as I do, Magnes.”
After a few heartbeats, Magnes nodded. “I have to go home, put things right with Thessalina and face what I did,” he said. “I just pray it’s not too late.”
“Trust your sister to see the truth,” Ashinji replied.
“Jelena once told me she thought you were the most beautiful thing on this earth, Ashi,” Magnes murmured. “She was right.”
“No, my friend,” Ashinji replied, his voice catching as more tears threatened. “I am so far from that. My wife is the most beautiful thing on this earth, not me.”
Magnes sighed and shook his head. He lay down and turned away from Ashinji, as if he could no longer bear to look upon what he so fervently desired but could never have.
For a very long time, Ashinji remained awake staring into the fire, too exhausted and emotionally raw to sleep. When he finally did lie down, he could only toss and turn.
When the sky beyond the broken edges of the barrow turned pearl gray with the coming dawn, Ashinji rose and climbed the rubble slope out onto the side of the ancient grave. He sat cross-legged in the dewy grass and watched the sun lift itself over the horizon to begin its daily journey across the heavens.
When he heard the scuffle of footsteps on the slope behind him, he didn’t need to look to know who approached. Magnes came up beside him and held out a hunk of cheese and a piece of bread. Wordlessly, Ashinji took the food and began to eat. Together, they stared into the distance, two friends sharing a meal in the quiet of the morning, each one knowing nothing would be the same between them ever again.
You have a body for me?”
“Yes, Highness,” the old man said. “A man of middle years, dead less than a day.”
“Excellent. Take me to it.”
Prince Raidan Onjara did not fear death, having witnessed it many times during his long career as a physician, but as he followed the elderly healer along the dirt path leading to the man’s cold room, he felt a twinge of apprehension.
What if the plague could not be stopped?
The prince had arrived in Tono three days ago. Since then, he had examined the bodies of five victims, though none had been fresh enough to yield acceptable samples.
All five were okui and had recently come into contact with hikui folk. According to the local Chief Constable, many people in the district had fallen sick, and the purebloods now seemed to die as easily as the mixed-race folk. This had led to some ugly confrontations, and increasing demands by some okui that all hikui be forced to leave the district.
With Lady Odata away in Sendai for the war council, the thankless task of keeping the peace in the valley now fell to her eldest son, an untested youth just barely of age. Raidan had felt no surprise when the beleaguered chief greeted his arrival with such overt relief.
Having no time to spare for anything other than the mission that brought him to Tono in the first place, Raidan had been forced to declare himself unavailable for peacekeeping duty, much to the consternation of the chief and his staff.
From first light to well after sunset, Raidan and his small escort rode from one farmstead to the next, interviewing the healthy and examining the sick. From modest cottages to prosperous manor houses, the prince encountered the same thing; people feared the plague and the imminent invasion by the Soldarans-purebloods and mixed bloods alike.
That evening, as the prince and his men dined at a local inn, word came to them of the old healer and the newly deceased man lying in a cold room behind the healer’s cottage. Not wishing to waste a single moment, Raidan abandoned his dinner and took to the saddle, leaving his escort behind.
Trudging along behind the old man, his worn leather satchel bumping his back, Raidan made a mental list of the samples he needed: blood, saliva, hair, skin, and discharge from any swellings or sores.
Let my brother scoff and cling to the belief that magic is the only way! The future lies with science, not magic, and if the elven people are to advance, they will have to give up their reliance on Talent and embrace the new learning.
That is, if we manage to survive both the plague and the Soldaran invasion.
A three-quarter moon hung like a clipped silver coin amid a thick field of stars. The old healer led the way through a stand of trees to the side of a hill, holding a bull’s-eye lantern above his graying head to light their way. Its golden beam fell upon a stout wooden door set into the side of the grass-covered hill.
“He’s right inside, milord Prince, lying on the lowermost shelf at the back,” the old man said. He gripped the heavy iron ring handle and heaved the door open, then led the way along a sloping passage deep into the interior of the hill.
The passage ended in a circular chamber constructed of tightly fitted, whitewashed stone. Raidan looked around, impressed with the old man’s workroom. Wood shelves, filled with a variety of pots, jars, and caskets, ran along the curve of the walls on either side of the door. A complete kit of dissection tools hung on pegs attached to a table at the center of the room. At the very back, three shelves had been recessed into the wall. Only one held an occupant-the lowest, as stated.
“I’ll need your assistance, healer,” Raidan said as he stepped over to the body and pulled back a fold of the heavy shroud, revealing the dead man’s face.
“Of course, milord,” the old man answered. “I have specimen jars, salt, vinegar. Just tell me what you need.” He hung the lantern from a hook embedded in the ceiling, then turned to wait upon the prince, who stood gazing with pensive eyes at the waxen features of the corpse.
“This is a man who’s been struck down in the prime of his life,” Raidan said.
“Just so, milord. ’Tis a tragedy.”
“Help me carry him to the table.”
While Raidan managed the head and shoulders, the old healer took the legs and feet. Together, the two men wrestled the corpse onto the table, where Raidan pulled the sheet away to reveal the entire body.
“I like the design of this dissection table,” he commented as he dropped the shroud to the floor and pushed it aside with his foot.
The old man squared his bony shoulders and grinned. “I designed it myself, your Highness. The top is glazed ceramic, and you see here, these channels along the sides? Perfect for the drainage of body fluids. I also put drains in the floor…”
“Yes, yes, very impressive,” Raidan cut in. The healer gulped and fell silent. “I need to get started now,” the prince added. “There’s a lot of work to do.”
“I can hang your cloak on the peg by the door, Highness. I also have an extra apron if you would like,” the old man offered meekly.
“Thank you, yes, and light another lantern if you have one.” Raidan eased his satchel off his shoulder and let it slip to the floor. As the healer scurried to comply, the prince continued his preliminary examination of the corpse. All the telltale signs of the plague were present-purplish swellings under the jaw, a blackened, protruding tongue, hemorrhage from eyes, ears, nose, and mouth.
No doubt I’ll find blood at the anus as well , the prince thought.
“Jashen,” the healer said.
“What?” Raidan threw a sideways glance at the old man.
The healer pointed to the corpse. “His name was Jashen. Jashen Hosha. He was a farmer. Owned a decent-sized spread just south of here.” The old man sighed and shook his head. “I don’t know what his poor wife’s going to do. Two little ones and a third on the way.”
Raidan rummaged in his bag and withdrew a small leather case. He eased it open and removed a pearl-handled scalpel. “Has the woman no other family to assist her?” he asked, brow furrowed in concentration as he carefully cut into one of the swellings, releasing a gush of black fluid.
“Suka is a northerner,” the healer replied. “She’s got no family anywhere near Tono, sad to say, your Highness.”
Raidan laid down the scalpel then reached into his bag for a collection spoon and vial. Careful not to allow any to come in contact with his skin, he scooped a small amount of the black fluid into the vial and sealed it.
Over the next hour, he and the old man worked in silence. It seemed only fitting they do so, out of respect for the deceased. To Raidan, the dissection of a body must always be done with reverence, for only through careful examination, using the logic of science, would its inner workings be revealed, and by extension, the mind of The One.
After collecting the samples he needed, Raidan washed his hands in a basin provided by his host, then helped the old man replace the corpse in its niche. He stowed his specimens with care in his satchel, then fished out a small leather pouch. He upended it and three coins-two gold and a silver-clinked onto his open palm.
“The gold is for the widow. See that she gets it. The silver is for your trouble, healer.”
The old man nodded and folded the coins into his gnarled fist. “Thank you, milord,” he murmured, bowing deeply. “It has been an honor to assist you.”
“Let’s hope tonight’s work yields some answers. The fate of our people could depend on it.”
Raidan lifted his bag to his shoulder and collected his cloak from the peg by the door. He then followed the old man back up the tunnel to the outer entrance, leaving the dead farmer to rest in the chilly darkness.
The following morning dawned gray and cool. Fat clouds, heavy with rain, scudded by overhead, carried north on stiff winds from their birthplace over the western ocean. Raidan sat on a bench in the shelter of the inn’s large covered porch, wrapped in his cloak, impatient to be away.
Out in the inn’s front yard, the prince’s entourage bustled back and forth, readying their horses for departure. Raidan sighed irritably and rose to his feet.
What is taking so long? Where is my horse?
He paced along the length of the porch, attempting to rein in his temper, self-aware enough to know that lack of sleep contributed to his ill humor. An outburst now would be undignified and unfair.
“My lord prince!” Raidan’s aide Kasai trotted across the yard to the porch. He sketched a quick bow. “Your horse has a loose shoe,” he explained between quick breaths. “The inn has no on-site blacksmith, so someone’s been sent to the next village to fetch one.” The man bowed again. “I’m sorry for the delay, your Highness.”
Raidan cursed. Kasai kept his gaze fixed on his boots. Raidan took a deep breath. “I know this isn’t your fault. These things happen. It’s been a hard week for all of us. How long do you think it’ll be?”
Cautiously, Kasai looked up. “I can’t say for sure, my lord, but the village is not far and the stable boy left right away. It shouldn’t be too long. Perhaps you’d rather wait inside where it’s warmer?”
Raidan nodded, temporarily mollified. He followed Kasai back into the inn’s common room and commandeered the most comfortable chair while his aide called for service.
A few moments later, the innkeeper herself appeared and scurried over, wiping her hands on her apron as she approached. A cloud of worry surrounded her like a fog. Raidan’s eyes narrowed. The woman bowed and asked, “What can I bring you, your Highness?”
“A mug of your best beer,” the prince responded, then asked a question of his own. “Mistress, even a person with no Talent at all would be able to see quite clearly how troubled you are. I hope neither I nor any of my people have been the cause of your discomfiture.”
The innkeeper, a solidly built woman with silver-streaked black hair, briskly shook her head. “Oh, no, my lord, no!” she exclaimed, eyebrows raised. “You’ve been most gracious, my lord, no trouble at all…” Her voice trailed off, and Raidan sensed she was barely holding herself together.
“Tell me what has got you in such a state, then,” he prodded in a gentle tone. The woman’s hands flew to her mouth and fat tears leaked from her clear, brown eyes. She stifled a sob, gulped, then whispered, “It’s my oldest boy, sir. I think he…he’s come down with the plague!”
Raidan rose to his feet. “Take me to him,” he commanded. “Kasai, go fetch my bag.”
“Straight away, my lord!” Kasai replied and rushed to obey. Without another word, the innkeeper led the way through the kitchen into the family’s living quarters, Raidan hard on her heels.
The boy lay in a small darkened bedchamber, buried beneath a mound of blankets.
“Mistress, please uncover a window. I need light to work,” Raidan ordered. The innkeeper opened a shutter to allow storm-gray light into the room. Raidan approached the bed, but he needed no visual confirmation to tell him what his nose had already made clear. With gentle hands, he peeled back the layers of blankets to reveal the sick child.
“What is your son’s name, Mistress?” Raidan asked.
“Tanshi, your Highness,” the innkeeper whispered.
“Tanshi, can you hear me?”
The boy moaned and his eyes rolled beneath closed lids.
Kasai entered the room, carrying Raidan’s satchel. He handed over the bag without a word, and backed off to stand at the foot of the bed beside Tanshi’s mother.
Raidan’s eyes traveled over the boy’s body. Tanshi had been a robust lad on the cusp of manhood. The prince noted the telltale signs of the plague, but as of yet, there appeared to be no hemorrhage. Raidan took this as a hopeful sign. Of the many plague victims he had seen over the last week, those that did not bleed went on to recover. Still, the boy was desperately ill and could fail at any moment.
His exam complete, Raidan replaced the blankets, then turned to face the mother. “Tanshi does have the plague, Mistress, but there is cause for hope.” The innkeeper listened attentively while Raidan instructed her on her son’s care and the proper dosage of the medicines he planned to leave. “Above, all, you must wash your hands after you have finished with your son. It is very important.”
The innkeeper looked dubious, but nodded her head. “I will, my lord,” she replied.
Raidan handed her several vials, then repacked his bag.
“You can wash in the kitchen, sir,” the innkeeper said, anticipating Raidan’s next request. As she led the way back into the kitchen, the woman turned and said over her shoulder, “It’s those dirty hikui, my lord. They’re the ones spreading this plague!”
Raidan frowned. “We don’t know enough about this disease to blame its spread on any one thing, Mistress,” he replied.
“Begging your pardon, Highness, but you’ll not convince me!” the woman huffed. “A hikui tinker came calling two weeks ago. My Tanshi spent a fair amount of time with the man’s daughter, against my wishes I might add! Now, he’s sick! No one else has fallen ill. Only my son.” She hovered while Raidan scrubbed his hands in the scullery basin. “I say all hikui should be made to leave Tono, my lord, and I’m not the only one!” Her eyes flashed defiance, as if daring Raidan to chastise her. The prince said nothing; he understood her attitude.
Okui folk are scared and the hikui make convenient scapegoats , he thought.
Kasai waited for him in the common room. “The blacksmith is here, Highness,” he said. “Your horse should be ready within the hour.”
“Very good.” Raidan nodded to the innkeeper. “I’ll have that beer now, Mistress, if you please.”
The prince sat sipping his beer, mulling over in his mind the report he would make to his brother, the king. His thoughts-dark, grim things-swirled about inside his head dressed in shreds of horror and blood.
What bitter irony it would be if we manage to repel the Soldaran invasion, only to succumb to this human disease. Surely the Goddess would not allow such a fate for Her children!
Kasai interrupted his master’s bleak reverie. “Your horse is ready, my lord prince. We await your orders.”
“Pay our hostess,” Raidan directed as he exited the common room into the yard. The stable lad holding his mount’s reins bowed his head as the prince took charge of the horse.
When the entire party had mounted, Raidan led the group out of the inn yard onto the road leading north. He frowned at the dark clouds bulking on the horizon, then looked back over his shoulder to see the innkeeper standing in the doorway, her face a mask of worry. Raidan couldn’t help but sympathize with her.
I have children too , he thought.
He turned to look at Kasai, riding beside him. “We must hurry. This has taken far longer than I’d anticipated. I want to get back to Sendai by tomorrow night.”
“Yes, your Highness,” Kasai replied.
Raidan dug in his heels and his horse surged into a canter. Together, the group of riders raced northward, into the storm.
The prince peered through the eyepiece of his scope at a smear of fluid staining a small glass plate and sighed in frustration.
Nothing!
The samples he had collected in Tono had yet to yield any clues to the nature of the mysterious essence he knew must be the cause of the disease. He pushed aside the scope and rubbed his tired eyes.
Could it be my collection methods? I followed, to the letter, the recommendations of Nazarius. No, that can’t be the problem. What about the means of preservation of the specimens?
He picked up a specimen jar and examined the blob of tissue floating within.
Perhaps. Vinegar, wine, salt. All well and good for foodstuffs, but for fragile tissue samples? Unfortunately, there isn’t anything else available, unless I incur the considerable expense of buying preservation spells from a mage, which is impractical.
Could the problem lie with my instruments? Perhaps they are not sensitive enough.
Raidan gazed at the microscope, a delicate construction of brass and carefully ground lenses. The finest maker of scientific and navigational tools in all of the Arrisae Islands had custom crafted it to Raidan’s specifications. The scope had worked beautifully on other things: the minute structure of a butterfly’s wing, the round disks that floated in the blood of both people and animals.
No, there has to be some other reason, something I’ve not thought of yet.
Raidan stood and stretched, then poured himself a glass of wine from the carafe on his work table. He took a sip, then walked to the window of his study and looked out at the small, walled garden below. The carefully tended plants had been the pride and joy of his mother. Taya, his wife, looked after it now. The little garden had always been a sanctuary of sorts, filled with happy childhood memories.
If only those carefree days could be recaptured , Raidan thought.
Five days ago, he had stood before the full council and had given his report on the situation in Tono. Afterward, Lady Odata immediately begged permission to return home and the king had granted it. She and her people had departed Sendai that same day.
Yesterday, a rider had arrived from Tono with a message from Odata-the Soldaran Army advanced northward at a leisurely pace, as if deliberately mocking the elves. Keizo had remarked that since the humans brimmed with such confidence over their superior numbers, they apparently felt no need to hurry.
Tonight, he, Keizo, and Sen Sakehera planned to meet privately in order to finalize the war plans. All was essentially in readiness. The army was assembled and the Home Guard in place. Only the role of the mages remained to be finalized.
Keizo had insisted on using mages, and after some serious thought, Raidan had agreed. It made sense. Very few humans were capable of wielding magic, and those that could did not command the same force and power as even a modestly trained elven mage. From what Raidan knew about human magic, most of it seemed based on little more than superstition, illusion, and outright trickery.
Magic would give them a badly needed advantage, serving to counterbalance the elves’ lesser numbers.
A sharp knock on his study door interrupted the prince’s train of thought. “Come!” he called out.
The door swung open and a page, dressed in the livery of the king, stepped through and bowed. “Your Highness! Princess Jelena begs you to come right away. The king has fallen ill!”
Raidan’s heart froze.
The half-full glass slipped from his fingers and fell to the floor, spilling wine across the mats in a blood-red spray.
The prince bolted past the startled page, through the deserted rooms of his apartments and out into the corridor. He didn’t stop running until he reached the king’s bedside.
Breath heavy with fear more than exertion, Raidan stood gazing down at his brother, who lay pale and sweating in the bed he shared with his Companion Sonoe, the telltale swellings already beginning to appear under his jaw.
“It’s the plague, isn’t it?”
Raidan looked into the eyes of Keizo’s daughter, her stricken face so like his brother’s, Raidan wondered how he could ever have doubted her paternity. His niece sounded more like a scared child than a grown woman. He nodded and Jelena dropped her head into her hands.
Guilt, like a landslide, rolled down upon the prince, threatening to overwhelm him.
This is my fault! I must have brought the plague back from Tono somehow!
Keizo had expressed serious misgivings about allowing him to pursue his inquiries, but Raidan had insisted, charging Keizo with backwardness in wanting to cling to magic rather than accepting the rational tenets of science.
Now, all of Alasiri will pay the price for my arrogance.
Neither Jelena nor he spoke for a time. The enormity of this disaster was too overwhelming to absorb all at once. Raidan, even with his limited Talent, felt his niece’s despair beating at him like a living thing, raw and wild.
At last, Jelena whispered, “What are we going to do?” Her voice quivered with unshed tears. She moved from the foot of the bed closer to Raidan.
“We have no choice but to carry on,” he replied, fighting for control. “The lives of all our people are at stake. Fortunately, everything is in place. All that’s left now is to execute the war plan.”
Jelena nodded. “Yes, Uncle, I agree. I wish to ride out with the army, by your side, as I would have with my father.” For the first time since she had arrived in Sendai and had changed all of their lives forever, Raidan felt genuine tenderness toward his brother’s daughter, and pride as well.
She has proven herself to be a true Onjara, strong and brave, human blood notwithstanding. Was it only a few months ago that I contemplated murdering this girl to safeguard my own ambitions?
Shame, like a bitter-tongued old hag, harangued him, adding to the heavy burden of guilt already weighing down his soul. Unaccustomed to this particular emotion, it did not sit well with him.
He rested a hand on Jelena’s shoulder. “Are you sure you wouldn’t rather stay here in Sendai with your father and Hatora?” he asked in a gentle voice. “No one would think any less of you.”
“There’s nothing I can do for him,” she replied, glancing at Keizo then back at her uncle. “Sonoe will stay with him.”
Raidan shook his head, and when Jelena opened her mouth to protest, he pressed a finger to her lips. “No, Niece. I cannot allow you to leave Sendai, and I ask you to please just listen before you bite my head off. You are not a trained soldier! Your child needs her mother. Think about what would happen to Hatora if you should fall in battle. She’s already lost her father. Do you really think it’s fair to put her at risk of losing you as well?”
Jelena’s hazel eyes blazed in defiance; then, as Raidan’s words penetrated the wall of desperate fury she had erected, he watched reason begin to cool his niece’s inflamed emotions. Her face crumpled and, without warning, she leaned against him and laid her head on his shoulder.
Caught completely off-guard, Raidan slipped his arms around Jelena almost without thinking. He held her until the spate of tears had passed and she broke the embrace. Wiping her eyes on the hem of her sleeve, she lifted her chin and stared back at Raidan with calm resignation.
“You’re right, of course, Uncle. My place is here with my daughter and I’m ashamed I had to be reminded of it.” She paused, took a deep breath, then asked, “Is there any treatment you know of that might help my father?”
“Nothing specific, other than supportive care,” Raidan replied, moving closer to the bed so he could examine Keizo more thoroughly. “My brother has a very strong constitution. I have every reason to hope he will survive.” He leaned in close and spoke into Keizo’s ear. “Can you hear me, Brother?”
The king moaned and his lips worked but no words slipped out.
“Don’t worry, Keizo. Sen and I know what must be done.” Raidan spoke in a rapid whisper. “Alasiri will not fall, not as long as there is a single elf left alive to defend her. I swear to you on the graves of our father, brother, and mother, that I will not let the humans take our land from us!”
“I’m here too, Father.” Jelena came up beside Raidan and closed her hand around Keizo’s. Lifting it to her lips, she kissed her father’s palm, then pressed it to her cheek and closed her eyes.
“Where is Sonoe?” Raidan asked, surprised and puzzled at the absence of Keizo’s Companion.
The girl shrugged. “I don’t know. When I arrived to see my father, she wasn’t here. He must have taken ill after she had gone out for the day. I doubt she would have left him, otherwise.”
“I’ll send a page to find her. She should be here with him,” Raidan said. “Jelena, things are going to get difficult very soon,” he continued. “As much as any of us hate to admit it, there’s a good chance the elves will lose this war. We are badly outnumbered by a determined enemy.” He paused to gaze deep into his niece’s eyes. What he saw there reassured him. “It may very well fall to you to assume leadership of our people should the worst happen and your father, myself, and my two sons don’t survive.”
“But, Uncle, the elven people won’t accept me as their queen…” Jelena began, but Raidan interrupted.
“The elven people may have no choice,” he countered firmly. He paused to take a breath, then continued. “This is very difficult for me to admit, but I was wrong about you. When you first came to Sendai…more specifically, when we all learned the truth about you, I was angry, no, furious is a better word. Despite your protestations to the contrary, I did view you as a threat and-please don’t be afraid when I say this-I was fully prepared to eliminate you.” Jelena’s eyes widened in shock. Her lower lip trembled, but she remained silent, her face gone pale.
“I’m a proud man, sometimes arrogant, this I know, but I like to think I’m ruled by reason and not passion,” Raidan continued. “I wish I could say to you that I saw reason, but the truth is much less tidy. My wife stayed my hand, Jelena. She asked, no…” He smiled wryly. “She ordered me not to harm you. Taya is the only person, other than my brother, who can order me to do anything! It seems you have a destiny not even I can interfere with.”
He took Jelena by the hand and led her to a cushioned bench against the wall opposite Keizo’s bed, and together, they sat. Raidan kept her hand folded in his as he spoke. “I can’t point to any single moment when my heart changed, Niece, but it was definitely you who changed it. You are Keizo’s daughter, a true Onjara, and you are old enough to rule. Alasiri will need an adult of royal blood at the helm should the worst happen, someone able to make hard decisions. I have come to accept that this person is you.”
Jelena bit her lip and lowered her head. Reaching beneath the collar of her tunic, she withdrew her Griffin Ring upon its sturdy chain. She stared at the heavy circle of white gold, then closed it in her fist. She lifted her face to meet Raidan’s eyes, and in that instant, he witnessed the completion of her transformation from bastard outsider to royal princess.
“If the One decrees it, I’ll be ready,” she replied.
Gran awoke from the mage sleep two days later. Her thin face still bore traces of the tremendous strain she had endured, but she seemed to have regained most of the strength she had spent to save their lives. After breaking her fast on bread and cheese, she climbed out of the barrow chamber, Ashinji and Magnes at her side.
“How are you feeling Ashi?” Gran cupped Ashinji’s face between her hands, her pale eyes boring into his. The gesture reminded him of his mother.
“Better. You were right. It didn’t take me long to recover.”
Gran dropped her hands, nodding. “How much longer ’til we reach Amsara?” she asked.
“About ten days, if we don’t encounter any trouble,” Magnes replied. “The road is pretty good all the way.”
“We’re so exposed out here. It makes me very nervous,” Ashinji said. “How likely are we to run into trouble?
“Not very,” Magnes assured. “The Imperial Army lies well to the west and the land hereabouts is thinly settled. Shepherds, mostly. Even if we do encounter any people, as long as you and Gran are disguised, they’ll probably leave us alone.”
“We’d better get going, then,” Gran said. “We’re running out of time.”
“Have you sensed something new, Gran?” Ashinji asked, a thrill of fear spurring his heart into a gallop.
Gran shook her head. “No, no, Ashi. Nothing has changed.” She reached out and patted his forearm. “I just meant that we can’t afford to dawdle.”
Ashinji took a deep, calming breath, then did some quick calculations in his head.
Ten days to reach Amsara, then another couple of days to the Alasiri border. After that, we’ll need at least two days to skirt the Fens and two more to reach Kerala Castle. We can get supplies and fresh horses there for the ride to Sendai. Gran can’t ride as fast as I can, so that’ll add a day or two. We should reach the capital in six days, seven at the most.
And when we finally do reach Sendai…
His mind shied away from the dark thoughts now trying to push their way to the fore of his consciousness, thoughts of suffering and loss yet to be endured. He did not feel ready to face them though he knew, in the end, he must.
They packed their meager supplies then set out across the rolling countryside. The sun had nearly reached its zenith by the time they found the road. As the horses clopped along its uneven surface, their unshod hooves kicked up puffs of red-brown dust that floated away in lazy wisps on a light breeze.
They encountered no other people that day. To Ashinji, it felt like they alone inhabited the world, save for the sheep dozing in clusters by the roadside, or standing in bleating groups beneath the precious shade of solitary trees.
That night, they took shelter in the ruin of a stone tower. The tiny fire Magnes built served mainly to chase away the shadows, for the night was warm and they had no fresh food that needed cooking. Ashinji fell asleep to the sound of the horses cropping the thick, sun-scorched grass beyond the tumbled stones of the tower’s fallen upper stories.
The days passed in a somnolent blur, falling away behind them like barely remembered dreams. They continued to have the road to themselves. Only the occasional herder or crofter seen in the distance reminded them that people did make this desolate area their home.
After the fifth day, the land began to change, the rolling hills giving way to flat, cultivated fields.
“We’ve crossed into Veii,” Magnes informed them. “Amsara’s southern neighbor. My father sold Jelena to Veii’s duke. If she hadn’t had the courage to defy my father and run away…”
“She would have escaped somehow and found her way north to me, even so,” Ashinji said. “We were destined for each other.”
A flash of pain twitched across Magnes’ face. “You and Jelena will soon be together again, Ashi.” He would not look at Ashinji as he spoke.
At sunset on the eighth day, Veii Castle hove into view like a big black ship on the horizon. The three travelers stayed well to the west of the fortress, skirting several hamlets and taking a wider detour around a large village. Gran remained ready with a glamour to disguise herself and Ashinji should they chance upon any people, but it never became necessary. They always managed to avoid any close encounters.
Twelve days after fleeing Darguinia in the mobile infirmary of the Eskleipans, the three fugitives crossed into Amsara. A stone tablet marked the border, nothing more. To Ashinji, the landscape appeared much as it had through most of Veii, but he could see by the subtle lift of Magnes’ shoulders and the renewed spark in his eyes, his friend knew the look and feel of home.
They traveled for one more day and part of another before the road at last split into two branches-one heading north, the second angling to the northwest.
Magnes, who had been riding in the lead, raised his hand to signal a halt. He slid off his mount and Ashinji followed suit. “This is where we must part company, my friend,” he said. He pointed to the northward path, then fixed his gaze upon Ashinji’s face. “Amsara lies that way…” His voice faltered and he looked away.
“Come, my friend,” Ashinji said quietly. “Let’s walk a little.” He looked back at Gran.
Go , she mindspoke. I know you two need a few moments alone.
Magnes ambled a few paces up the northward path, Ashinji a step behind, then stopped and turned to face his elven friend. He made no attempt to hide his feelings. Ashinji met Magnes’ naked yearning with compassion as his only offering, but then an idea sprang into his mind.
Maybe there is something I can do for my friend. A gift to ease his pain.
“Magnes, you know we elves can communicate with each other, mind to mind,” he said. Magnes nodded. “I’m not sure if it will work between an elf and a human, but I want to try it with you. If I’m successful, our minds will be joined for a time. It’s an extremely intimate experience, usually shared only between two people who are very close.”
Magnes swallowed hard. “Are…are you sure you want to do this now, Ashi?”
“Yes, I’m sure.” He laid a hand on Magnes’ shoulder. “We may never have another chance. We are friends…no, we are much more than friends. We are brothers.”
“If you’re sure, then I would be honored,” Magnes replied. “What do I have to do?”
“Sit down first, then relax. I’ll do the rest.”
Ashinji wasn’t at all certain it could be done, but he had to try.
Gran really should be the one doing this. After all, she’s the trained mage, not I.
He had no experience or schooling to guide him, only gut instinct, determination, and the intense desire to help his friend. Perhaps he shouldn’t, but nevertheless, he still felt partly responsible for Magnes’ emotional torment.
No, I must be the one to fix this, not Gran.
The two young men sat down in the grass beside the path. Ashinji held out his hands to Magnes and smiled.
“Rest your palms on mine, and close your eyes,” he directed.
Ashinji let his consciousness flow outward, seeking the barrier separating his own mind from Magnes’. When he found it, it dissolved before him like a veil of smoke and left Magnes’ mind exposed and vulnerable. Ashinji searched for and discovered what he needed to change but before he gave his friend the gift of forgetfulness, he would give him the joy of a true bonding.
Ashinji let drop the barriers shielding his own mind and allowed his consciousness to flow like water into the pool of Magnes’ being. He immediately sought to dampen his friend’s shock at first contact, instinctively sending the energy of his Talent coursing along Magnes’ nerves-soothing, reassuring, wrapping the other man’s mind in a calm, loving embrace. He held Magnes thus, and rejoiced as the other’s fear turn to wonder. He recalled the first time he and Jelena had shared the mind link. Her reaction had been much the same.
Ashinji held steady within the link and allowed Magnes to roam where he willed. He concealed only that part of his mind which held all the private experiences he had shared with Jelena. When Magnes had seen all he could, Ashinji, in turn, traveled through the myriad rooms and corridors of his friend’s mind, leaving unexplored only those darkest corners he sensed the other man guarding, albeit unconsciously. Ashinji had no wish to be privy to Magnes’ most sensitive secrets.
When he was done, Ashinji sent forth a ghost of himself onto the landscape of Magnes’ mind, to serve as a distraction while he performed the task that would set his friend free. He felt no hesitation or doubt; somehow, he just seemed to know what to do.
Quickly, he returned to the source of pain and cauterized the wound, sealing the raw edges and spreading a soothing balm of forgetfulness over the entire area. He then withdrew and broke the link.
Magnes’ head jerked up and his eyes snapped open. He stared at Ashinji for many heartbeats. Finally, he spoke. “Gods!”
Ashinji smiled.
“All elves do this, this mind thing?” Magnes stuttered.
“Yes, we all can do it, but as I’ve said, we almost always reserve the mind link for those we feel closest to. As you saw, it leaves one completely exposed.”
“Ashi, I…I don’t know what to say,” Magnes whispered.
“You don’t have to say anything. You are my friend and I’d gladly share the link with you again, now that I know it’s possible.” Ashinji rose to his feet.
After a moment’s hesitation, Magnes followed suit. He glanced over his shoulder toward the north then up at the sky. “If I hurry, I should make it home by sundown,” he said. He turned to look at Ashinji; the pain and longing had vanished from his eyes.
Ashinji breathed a sigh of relief. Up until that moment, he had not been sure if his attempt at psychic surgery had worked. “This is not goodbye, Magnes,” he insisted. “I know in my heart we will meet again. This war may be between our two nations but it’s not between us. We’re linked by ties too strong to break.”
“My future is uncertain, Ashi. I might find forgiveness at home or I might find myself an outcast…or worse. But if it’s within my power, I’ll seek you and Jelena out and we’ll be reunited.” Magnes drew Ashinji into a tight embrace, one Ashinji felt no qualms about returning.
Magnes stepped away first. He turned and approached Gran, who had been waiting patiently the entire time, sitting astride her horse and keeping watch from a discreet distance.
“So, young human,” Gran said. “This is where we part company, is it?”
“Yes, my lady, it is,” Magnes replied. He reached up and covered Gran’s hand with his. “Chiana, it has been a privilege knowing you. I’ll never forget you.”
“Nor I you, Magnes.” Gran stretched out her hand to caress his cheek. “You are a fine young man. May the One always guide you and keep you safe.”
“Stick to this road and you should be all right. I doubt any of the castle guard will patrol this far west.” Magnes turned and looked at Ashinji. “You won’t know you’ve crossed the border until you see the swamp.”
“We’ll smell it long before we see it,” Ashinji commented with a wry smile. He grasped his gelding’s coarse mane and swung onto the animal’s back. The horse sighed and shifted from foot to foot.
Magnes climbed onto his own mount and maneuvered it next to Ashinji’s.
“When you see Jelena, tell her I love her and I’m looking forward to seeing her again,” he said.
“I will,” Ashinji replied. He and Gran watched as Magnes turned his horse onto the northbound road and, just before he urged the animal into a trot, Ashinji called out, “Magnes, wait!”
Magnes pulled the horse to a stop and waited for Ashinji to catch up, a questioning look upon his face. “Tell your sister I said ‘thank you,’” Ashinji said.
Magnes cocked his head in puzzlement. “For what?” he asked.
“Thessalina could’ve given in to her commanders and had me killed, but she didn’t. Instead, she let me live. I’m grateful to her for that.”
“I’ll tell her, my friend,” Magnes replied. He tapped his horse with his heels and the animal lurched into a lazy trot. Ashinji watched for a moment, then guided his mount over to where Gran waited. Together, the two elves started up the northwest road.
They rode for a while in silence before Gran spoke. “What you did back there, for Magnes…”
Ashinji looked sharply at her, frowning. “You were watching us?” he asked, shocked that she would intrude into such a private thing.
“I didn’t scan either of you, if that’s what you think, but yes, I kept watch, just in case you got into trouble,” she huffed. “Oh don’t look so offended, young man! You are completely untrained-which is a situation that should be rectified if at all possible, I might add-and you could have easily wiped out a part of your friend’s mind he needed in order to function. Psychic surgery is a procedure that should only be done by a fully trained mage.” Her scowl was so dire, Ashinji flinched before it and looked down at his hands, feeling like a child caught misbehaving.
“I had to do something for him, Gran. I couldn’t let him go on suffering,” he said.
“You were not responsible for Magnes’ pain, Ashi,” Gran snapped.
“That’s where you’re wrong!” Ashinji retorted, looking up. “I was the source of his unhappiness! I thought of a way I might help him, so I did what I had to, and it worked.”
He and Gran glared at each other for a few moments, but then the old mage sighed and shook her head. A ghost of a smile played about her mouth. “Yes, it worked,” she admitted. “And now that I’ve finished scolding you, I’ll praise you for a job well done.” She paused, then said, “Tell me what happened on the hill with the slave catchers.”
Ashinji hesitated, unwilling to give voice to his deed. After a few tense moments of silence, he finally said, “I don’t really know. I was furious at Seijon’s death. I knew I had to stop his killer before he attacked you. The energy just…came out of me. I didn’t consciously call upon my Talent at all because I thought it was blocked.”
“Yes, it was .” Gran pinned him with ice-blue eyes, her brow furrowed. After a few heartbeats, she let out a sharp exhalation. “It seems, Ashi, that somehow, you have been able to overcome the block your mother put on your Talent, all on your own, which is just extraordinary.” She paused to look thoughtfully into the distance. “It really is unfortunate your mother could not find the courage to go against tradition and send you to the Kan Onji. You’d have made a formidable mage.”
“My mother did what she thought best,” Ashinji responded, tight-lipped with anger. “You, of all people, have no right to criticize her!” As soon as the words left his mouth, he felt a rush of regret. “I’m sorry, Gran,” he murmured. “I should not have said that. It was cruel of me.”
“No, Ashi, you are right to defend your mother. It is true that I’m the least fit person to be Amara’s judge. What I should have said was, it is a great pity your mother felt she could not send you to the Kan Onji.” She looked at him and smiled. “It’s not too late, Ashi. You can still become a mage, if you wish.”
“I don’t know, Gran,” Ashinji replied. “I’ve never been anything else but a soldier. My warrior’s skills are what will be needed in this fight. Becoming a mage is, well, it just seems like an impractical goal right now. And besides, neither of us knows if we’ll even survive what’s to come.”
“We’ll see,” Gran muttered.
“There they are. The Shihkat Fens. We’ve made it home, Gran.”
The elderly mage nodded. “We may be back in Alasiri, but we’ve got a long way to travel yet.”
Ashinji raised his hand against the glare of the midday sun off the shimmering expanse. From this distance, the Fens looked like a vast lake, but as the two travelers drew closer, the landscape resolved into a patchwork of stagnant pools slimed with brilliant green algae, weed choked sinkholes, and hillocks covered in tough, brown grasses. The warm, wet air reeked with the smell of decay.
“I know there are trails leading through, but without a guide, we’d have little chance of finding our way,” Ashinji said.
“We’ll have to go around, then,” Gran replied, her voice low and resigned. The necessity of bypassing the swamp would add at least two extra days to their journey.
Despite the inhospitability of the land, Ashinji knew people did inhabit the Fens, making their living by hunting, trapping, and fishing. The fresher pools and running streams harbored abundant life-fish, frogs, turtles, and crayfish-while the thickets abounded with rodents and other small mammals, as well as snakes, lizards, and songbirds. Migratory waterfowl used the larger ponds as stopovers along their ancient flyways. The hardy folk who chose to live within this world were an unconventional lot, content to exist outside the normal structures of elven society.
A large chunk of the eastern end of the Fens fell within the borders of Kerala, but by tradition, Kerala’s lords claimed no jurisdiction over it or anyone living there. The Shihkat Fens existed as a world unto itself, one in which, at this point in time, Ashinji had no wish to enter.
At sundown, they stopped to make camp beneath a stand of willows. They had been living off the land for several days, relying on Gran’s animal charming spells to bring small game within reach and supplementing their diet with wild greens and berries
After a meager supper of cold, stringy rabbit, Ashinji hobbled the horses to prevent them from wandering too far and Gran cast a simple warding spell around the campsite. Almost as soon as he lay down on his thin blanket, Ashinji fell asleep, too exhausted to wonder or even care if Gran’s wards would be enough to wake him in the event danger threatened.
The next morning, he woke to find the skin of his arms and legs dotted with itchy red welts, the result of a nocturnal insect attack. As he scratched the lesions, he wondered why Gran’s wards could keep out some predators but not others. Gran herself appeared untouched.
Perhaps the miserable little bloodsuckers don’t like the taste of mage’s blood! Ashinji thought.
After two more days of travel, the Fens yielded to drier land and the travelers steered northeast in a direct line that would bring them to Kerala Castle. Everything around him looked familiar; Ashinji felt his spirits lifting.
At sunset, a little over a year after his brother’s betrayal had cast him down into a life of slavery, Ashinji rode across the bridge connecting Kerala Castle to the mainland and halted at the outer gate.
I made it back! Against all odds, I’m home!
The gate stood shut against the coming night. Ashinji slid off his horse, walked to the postern door and pounded on it with his fist.
After a few heartbeats, the peephole slid open.
“Who goes there?” The voice sounded more irritated than challenging.
Ashinji stepped closer so the guard could see his face in the rapidly failing light. “Tell Captain Miri and Seneschal Iruka that Ashinji Sakehera has returned,” he said softly. The guard let out a startled yelp and the peephole slammed shut. A heartbeat later, the postern door flew open and a pair of excited guardsmen tumbled out. Both men began talking at once.
“My lord! This is unbelievable…”
“You’re alive! We were told you’d been killed…”
“At the Battle of the Saihama Fords! It’s been…”
“At least a year. Lord Ashinji, where have you been all this time?”
Ashinji held up both hands and the two guards fell silent. “Please,” he said in a broken voice. “Lady Chiana and I just need to rest for a while. Then we’ll tell our story.” He indicated Gran, still mounted, with a lift of his chin. “One of you go help the lady, and will the other please go fetch Captain Miri and the seneschal now.”
“Yes, Lord Ashinji!”
“Yes, my lord!”
Ashinji squeezed his eyes shut for a moment, battling a wave of vertigo that threatened to pitch him to the ground. He had never before in his life felt so drained, not even after the times he had survived lethal matches on the sands of the Grand Arena. That kind of fatigue had always left his mind strangely energized; the sheer thrill of escaping death for him acted as a potent mental stimulant. What he felt now seemed something else entirely, as if he had expended all his energy in the effort to get back home, and now had nothing left. He didn’t know how much longer he could remain on his feet and conscious.
Gran came up beside him, leaning on the young guardsman for support. She brushed his forearm with her fingertips and a warm jolt of energy flowed up Ashinji’s arm and dispersed throughout his body. He instantly felt better, but guilt made him turn to Gran and chide her. “You shouldn’t have done that, Gran. You need all of your strength.”
“Don’t tell me what to do with what’s mine, young man,” Gran responded. “If I choose to give away my energy, then I will and you’ve got no say in the matter.” Ashinji saw the tenderness in her eyes that belied the tartness of her words. He sighed and kissed her cheek.
“My lord, please come inside.” the guardsman begged, gesturing toward the postern door.
“Take Lady Chiana and send someone out to get the horses,” Ashinji ordered. “I’ll wait here.”
“Straight away, my lord,” the guard responded. Gran allowed herself to be led through the door, offering no resistance, head bowed, her once firm, determined step reduced to a shuffle. Seeing her in such a state, Ashinji felt equal parts guilt and gratitude pierce his heart like twin thorns.
Without her skills and strength, I might never have made it back. I owe her a tremendous debt.
Ashinji did not have long to wait before another guard, a woman this time, emerged from the postern. “L…Lord Ashinji,” she stammered. “Ai, Goddess, it’s true. You are alive!” She fell to one knee, grabbed Ashinji’s hand and pressed it to her lips. “It was like all our hearts had been torn out, my lord, when word came you’d fallen in battle.” She looked up and smiled. “But now, here you are, alive. The One is truly merciful!”
Sadaiyo, you have much to answer for! Ashinji thought. Fighting to keep the bitterness out of his voice, he replied, “It’s good to be home.”
He placed the horses’ lead ropes into the guardswoman’s hand. “Please, take the horses and see to it they get a thorough rubdown and an extra ration of grain.” He gave each horse a parting slap on the neck as the guard led them away.
I owe those ugly beasts , he thought. They’ve earned their extra grain and much more.
Ashinji waited until the horses had passed through the postern before he crossed over the threshold into the lower yard of Kerala Castle. Another guard waited inside to close and bar the door for the night. “Welcome home, Lord Ashinji,” the man said.
Before Ashinji could respond, a familiar voice shouted his name. He turned to see Gendan rushing toward him, sobbing, arms outstretched. Ashinji braced himself as the other man swept him into a crushing hug. For a few precious moments, all considerations of social hierarchy fell aside. They were just two friends, caught up in the sweetness of unexpected reunion.
“Gendan, I can’t breathe!” Ashinji gasped, laughing. Gendan released his grip and stepped back, wiping his streaming eyes and nose on his sleeve. He opened his mouth to speak but only a wordless gasp emerged.
It took a few more moments before the captain mastered himself enough to speak. “Welcome home, my lord,” he said, his voice still rough with tears. He bowed, and with that act, he and Ashinji became once again lord and liegeman. “The lady that rode in with you is in my office. One of my guards is giving her a cup of tea as we speak.” Ashinji began walking and Gendan fell in beside him.
“Thank you, Gendan,” Ashinji replied. “As soon as she’s had her tea, have someone escort her to the keep. She’s just about reached the limits of her strength.”
“Begging your pardon, my lord, but you look pretty done in yourself,” Gendan commented.
“That’s a very polite way of saying I look like shit, my friend,” Ashinji said, grinning. “It’s been a long journey, Gendan. I know everyone wants to know what happened to me and where I’ve been, but right now, all I want is a bath and some sleep.” Gran’s gift of energy had all but dissipated; Ashinji felt a black wall of exhaustion looming over him, threatening to crush him at any moment.
Walking had become an exercise in sheer willpower; his feet felt like iron weights were attached to his ankles. He had to consciously order his legs to swing forward and his knees to lock so he wouldn’t fall. Gendan’s voice faded to a soft buzz, like a distant swarm of bees heard on a hot, summer day. He had to keep focused on walking- swing the leg, lock the knee, shift forward, don’t fall, do it again…
He became aware he now walked amidst a crowd of excited castle folk. Gendan tried his best to keep them from overwhelming their young lord, but they kept breaking past to touch Ashinji with eager hands. He tried to acknowledge their heartfelt joy at his return, but every nod of his head, every lift of a hand, was a monumental struggle.
Gendan escorted him to the Sakehera family’s private bath house and sent in a servant to assist him. After helping to scrub away weeks of road grime, the manservant stationed himself in a corner on a stool, keeping watch while his young lord soaked and drowsed in the heated water.
Ashinji did not realize he had fallen asleep until the servant woke him, then helped him get from the bath house to his own bed. His last thoughts before falling away into slumber were of Jelena and the first night they had spent together in this very bed. He imagined he could still smell her scent lingering on the pillows.
When next Ashinji opened his eyes, the golden glow of the late afternoon sun had set the shutters of his windows ablaze. He rose only long enough to use the chamber pot, then returned to bed where he promptly fell back to sleep and straight into a dream.
Jelena stood atop the broad staircase before the main entrance of Sendai Castle, her infant daughter cradled in her arms, eyes narrowed against the bright glare of the morning sun. Below, spread in neat ranks across the parade ground, the Prince’s Guard waited-at ease, yet attentive. The sounds of muted conversation, jangling harness and blowing horses filled the air.
Jelena waited as well, for her uncle and for Mai. Last evening, over an intimate supper in her private apartments, Jelena had accepted Mai’s offer of marriage; much to her surprise, he had insisted they wait until he returned from the war.
“You’ve suffered the loss of one husband already. I won’t make you a widow twice,” he offered in explanation. Reluctantly, she had agreed with his reasoning. Though neither one wished to dwell on it, they held no illusions. That night, they clung to each other, unable to sleep, afraid this would be their final time together as lovers.
The clatter of arms and armor drew Jelena back to the present. She turned to see her uncle, accompanied by his two sons and his aides, sweep out of the shadowy interior of the main atrium onto the steps beside her. Prince Raidan looked resplendent in his exquisite blue-lacquered armor, his dark, shining hair adorned with a simple gold coronet.
“Good morning, Niece.” His handsome face was set in hard lines and sharp angles. Beads of perspiration dotted his brow.
“Greetings, Uncle,” Jelena replied, then nodded to her cousins. Contrary to his usual sullen demeanor, Raidu wore a look of feral anticipation.
Perhaps the prospect of bloodshed excites my cousin , Jelena thought.
His brother Kaisik, however, looked like a rabbit caught in a snare-terrified but resigned. Jelena’s heart ached for her sensitive younger cousin.
“Is Mai with you, Uncle?” Jelena strained to see over the heads of the soldiers clustered around the prince. Hatora stirred and began to whimper.
She’s hungry. Jelena bounced the baby to distract her.
“I’m here, Jelena,” Mai answered, emerging from behind the knot of the prince’s aides. He moved to stand beside her, reached down to tickle the baby, and received a drooling smile for his efforts.
Raidan’s eyes flicked from Jelena’s face to Mai’s and back. “I’ve promoted Mai Nohe to my personal staff,” the prince announced. “He’ll take his orders directly from me now. I hope this pleases you, Niece.”
Jelena’s face lit up with surprise and delight. “Yes! Oh, yes, Uncle, it does, very much!” She and Mai exchanged ecstatic glances. Jelena realized her uncle had done this thing as a favor to her; still, Mai’s promotion meant much more than just an increase in pay and responsibilities. It meant the prince considered Swordmaster Kurume Nohe’s son a worthy consort for his niece.
Raidan took Jelena’s elbow and steered her away from Mai and the others. “Jelena, I’ve just come from the king’s quarters. Your father is no better, but he’s no worse, either, which is cause for cautious optimism. I’ve left detailed instructions with my chief medical assistant as to how the king is to be cared for. I’ve given Sonoe instructions as well.”
“Sonoe has been wonderful, Uncle. She’s barely left Father’s side. I’ve practically had to force her to come away long enough to bathe and eat,” Jelena said, then added, “Sonoe really loves Father, Uncle. I can see it in her eyes whenever she looks at him. It’s…well, it’s unfair that she’s denied marriage to Father simply because she’s a commoner.”
“It may be unfair, but it’s the way things are,” Raidan replied. “Listen to me carefully now, Jelena.” Jelena took a deep breath and fixed her eyes on her uncle’s face. As if sensing her mother needed to concentrate, Hatora stopped fidgeting and tucked one tiny fist into her mouth.
“I am entrusting you with the defense of Sendai,” Raidan continued. “I can see I don’t need to tell you how vital your task will be. You must stand in for both myself and, more importantly, for the king.”
Jelena nodded. “I’ll not fail you, or my father,” she said.
“The survival of the elves as a people, as a nation, has never before been so precarious.” Raidan paused, then laid a hand on her shoulder. “Jelena, I know something of what the Kirians have planned for you, and until recently, I didn’t much care. You know now that I do. While I can’t tell you exactly what will happen, I do know it will be extraordinarily dangerous.”
Jelena swallowed hard and clenched her hands a little tighter within the folds of Hatora’s blanket. “I know the Sundering will be dangerous, Uncle, but it’s necessary. The Key must be removed from me and placed within an inanimate object the Kirians can safeguard. Otherwise…”
“Otherwise, the Nameless One will use his growing power to tear the Key from Jelena’s body-destroying her in the process-and use it to complete what he began a thousand years ago,” Taya said.
At the sound of her voice, Raidan looked up and a tiny smile creased the corners of his mouth. “Ah, my wife has arrived, at last,” he murmured. The princess approached with measured stride, dressed in lightweight silk the color of the sea at dusk. A red sash, symbol of her rank as a First Mage of the Kan Onji, bound her slender waist.
Raidan held out his hand and Taya clasped it firmly. She fastened her cool gaze upon Jelena. “Your niece knows her duty, Husband,” the princess said. “You needn’t worry. The Kirians will see to it that the Sundering goes as planned.”
“I’m not afraid, Uncle,” Jelena lied. “Both Sonoe and Aunt Taya have helped me prepare. I’m ready.” She knew Raidan could see right through her brave façade by the way his eyes narrowed.
“What about my mages, Wife?” the prince asked, veering away from the subject of the Sundering.
“There are five Firsts and nine Seconds of the Kan Onji waiting at the outer city gates,” Taya reported, “as well as an additional twenty or so mages from the other orders. Every order sent at least one representative. You should have more than enough magical strength.”
“If only I had another troop division,” the prince muttered, then added quickly, “but the mages will improve our chances, no doubt.” He squinted at the sky. “It’s time we were on our way. Even though the Soldarans don’t seem in much of a hurry, they can still beat us to Tono if we don’t move fast.” He looked to his aides and called out, “Get to your mounts and bring mine!”
The knot of people gathered on the steps dissolved as the prince’s aides hurried off. Raidu and Kaisik remained behind, as did Mai. The way in which Raidu stood between his father and brother reminded Jelena of Sadaiyo. Ashinji’s brother, too, had often used his body thus, as not only a physical barrier, but a psychological one as well, cutting his sibling off from their father’s attention.
“Kaisik,” Jelena called out. At the sound of his name, Kaisik jumped as if stung, and turned to look at her. “When you come home, I’ll teach you how to play Hounds and Hares,” she said. She had promised to instruct her young cousin in the popular Soldaran board game months ago, but had never been able to find the time. Now , she thought with a twinge of guilt, I may never get the chance .
Kaisik smiled. “I’ll look forward to it, Cousin,” he replied. Raidu snorted, but said nothing. Jelena frowned and a sharp comment formed on the tip of her tongue, but reluctantly, she swallowed it.
This is no time for harsh words.
A groom arrived with Raidan’s horse. The prince gestured to his sons. “You two, go mount up.”
Jelena laid a hand on Kaisik’s arm as he turned to go. “I’ll see you soon, Cousin,” she said.
Kaisik’s haunted eyes belied his brave reply. “No doubt I’ll have all sorts of exciting tales to tell you,” he said. “Take care of yourself, and Hatora, too, Jelena.”
Blinking back tears, Jelena turned to Mai and whispered, “I’m really afraid for him. He’s not a soldier, Mai. He’s just a scared young boy! My uncle should let him stay here in Sendai.”
“He’s a prince of Alasiri, Jelena,” Mai replied, stroking her hair. “He is where he’s supposed to be, doing what he’s meant to do, which is riding to the defense of his people.” He slipped his arms around her and the baby and pulled them close. “I’ll keep as close a watch on him as I can,” he promised, “but I’m certain Prince Raidan already has at least one minder assigned to the boy. He’ll not let anything happen to his son.”
Jelena twisted in Mai’s arms to look at her uncle, who stood close to his wife, speaking to her in a voice too low to overhear.
It’s as if no one else exists in the world besides themselves, and nothing else matters except what they need to say to each other at this moment…I had that kind of love, once.
Jelena’s brief surge of envy dissolved into guilt and she drew in a sharp breath.
“What is it, love?” Mai asked. Jelena shook her head, then reached up to clasp Mai’s chin in her hand, drawing his face to hers. She kissed him hard, savoring his unique taste and smell. She wanted to implant his essence deep within her memory, so she would not forget him if the unthinkable happened.
When at last their lips parted, Mai whispered, “I love you, Jelena.” He kissed Hatora’s forehead and added, “Both of you.”
“I know,” she replied. “Come home to us.”
Jelena watched as Mai collected his horse from a waiting groom and swung aboard the silver gelding with easy grace. It took every bit of strength she had not to fall apart, for was it not on these very steps that she had stood and watched Ashinji ride away, never to return?
“You’re thinking of him, aren’t you?”
Jelena turned to find Sonoe standing at her elbow. “Sonoe, is something wrong, has my father…”
“Keizo sleeps. There’s been no change. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to frighten you, pet.” Jelena breathed a sigh of relief, then refocused her attention on Mai as he prepared to ride out.
Sonoe reached out and squeezed Jelena’s shoulder. “You needn’t feel guilty for thinking of Ashinji, especially now.”
“But I do, Sonoe. My thoughts should be only for Mai. He’s the living man, the one I’ve pledged to marry!” Jelena’s voice broke in a sob. “I couldn’t even tell him I loved him, not even now, when he’s riding to war and I might never see him again.” She held up her bare wrist. “I finally took my wedding bracelet off last night, and it felt like I’d betrayed Ashi. Mai loves me so much, and I know it would have meant the world to him to hear me say those words, but I just couldn’t, Sonoe. I couldn’t.” Jelena wept openly now and the baby began to wail in response.
“Hush, sweetheart, shhhh ,” Sonoe murmured, slipping her arms around Jelena. “Mai knows how you feel, and he accepts it. Don’t torture yourself over this. Everything will be as it should, I promise.” Something in the other woman’s tone made Jelena turn to scrutinize her friend. Sonoe’s face looked paler than usual and dark shadows smudged the skin beneath her jade-green eyes.
“You’re exhausted, Sonoe,” Jelena whispered, wiping her face on a corner of Hatora’s blanket, then sobbed, “Oh, Hattie baby…please don’t cry!” She rocked the squalling infant in an effort to soothe her.
“Here, let me take her,” Sonoe offered, holding out her arms. Jelena relinquished the baby to the red-haired mage, who gathered her close, then placed the tip of a forefinger to the infant’s wrinkled brow and spoke a single word. Almost at once, Hatora’s tiny face relaxed and her squalls subsided.
“You’re going to have to teach me that one,” Jelena said, shaking her head in disbelief.
“Of course, pet,” Sonoe replied, smiling.
Raidan and his entourage were at last ready to ride out. Taya stood at her husband’s left stirrup, holding his dragon-crested war helm in her hands. The Prince’s Guard, waiting at ease while Raidan and his staff made their preparations, now snapped to attention. As soon as Raidan gave the order, they would all leave the castle and ride through the city to join the main bulk of the army, which lay encamped outside the city gates under the command of Lord Sen.
Leaving the baby with Sonoe, Jelena hurried down the steps toward the prince. “Uncle!” she called out. Raidan paused with arms outstretched as Taya placed his helm in his hands. Jelena brushed his horse’s shoulder with her fingers and said, “Please tell my father-in-law my prayers are with him.”
Raidan nodded sharply. “I will,” he replied. “Remember all that I’ve said to you, Niece.”
Jelena backed away from the restless white stallion then ducked through the cluster of horses to where Mai waited. He had not donned his helmet yet; instead, he had hung it from the pommel of his saddle. He smiled as soon as he caught sight of her. Jelena reached up to lay a hand on his knee.
Before she could speak, Mai shook his head. “No, Jelena. You don’t need to say anything more. I know how you feel.” He covered her hand with his gloved fingers. “I’ll keep you and Hatora in my heart, I promise.”
“And I’ll keep you in mine, Mai. I promise,” Jelena whispered.
The prince gave the order to ride, and Jelena retreated to the castle steps as the entire mounted contingent wheeled about and took off at a trot toward the castle’s main gates. She moved to stand between Sonoe, still cradling Hatora in her arms, and Taya, who stood rigidly erect, hands clenched into fists at her side.
Can it be? My aunt is…yes, she’s afraid! Jelena glanced at Taya from the corner of her eye. Never had she felt any tenderness for her formidable aunt until now. It’s so easy to forget she’s a wife and mother as well as a powerful mage. She wants her loved ones to return home safe, just as I do.
Jelena raised her hand as if to touch her aunt’s arm. “Aunt, I know how…”
“Jelena, Sonoe,” Taya snapped, cutting her off. “Come with me. We have much to do.” The princess turned on her heel and marched off toward the yawning doors of the castle entrance, not bothering to look back.
Late that evening, Jelena kept watch at her father’s bedside, as she had done every night since he had fallen ill. After a quick meal, Sonoe had gone with Taya and Amara to work on the preparations for the Sundering. Only Society business could tear Sonoe away from the king’s side, but Jelena had noticed her friend seemed especially distracted of late.
Conflicted seems more accurate , she thought.
Keizo’s Companion kept her mind carefully shielded at all times but Jelena needed no special ability to recognize that Sonoe appeared locked in a fierce, inner struggle of some kind.
Jelena sensed it had something to do with Keizo, but mostly with her . She would catch Sonoe watching her, an expression of what seemed like regret on her face and yet, her friend exuded an aura of anticipation.
Maybe Sonoe feels conflicted over her role in the ritual of the Sundering. After all, she’s always believed that she, not Aunt Taya, should be head of the Kirian Society.
As Mistress of the Society, Taya would gain control of the Key once they separated it from Jelena and installed it in its new, inanimate vessel. Taya would have the final say over what the Society would ultimately do with the Key. Perhaps Sonoe worried her counsel would be belittled or ignored altogether by the princess.
Would Taya be so petty , Jelena wondered. Surely, she’d put aside any rivalries between her and Sonoe for the greater good! I must choose to believe my aunt will act wisely, for what else can I do? My life rests in her hands, in the hands of all the Kirians. They have promised to see me through the Sundering, and I trust in that promise.
Keizo stirred against his pillows and moaned softly. Jelena leaned forward to peer into his face, searching for any signs of consciousness, but saw none. With loving hands she stroked his hair, once as lustrous as newly minted silver, but dulled now with sickness. His body had wasted with shocking swiftness, leaving behind a shrunken remnant of a once strong and vital man.
Jelena had never before scanned her father’s mind without his permission, nor could she have done so with him fully conscious. She did so now only out of her desperate need to connect with him, even if only on a subconscious level. She wanted him to feel her presence and know she loved him.
She entered her father’s mind with ease-none of the usual shields stood in place to guard it-and drifted like a feather on a soft breeze down into Keizo’s once meticulously ordered mental landscape, now made chaotic by sickness. Pieces of thought and memory flashed by like small lightning strikes. She found them difficult to read because of the quickness of their comings and goings, but one thing remained stable-a glowing thought form hanging stationary amidst the confusion. Jelena steered toward it, knowing this was what she had come looking for. She had found her father’s core sense of himself, his unwavering knowledge of who he was, unaffected by the ravages of the plague that had so devastated his physical body.
Without hesitation, she merged with her father’s consciousness as easily as she slipped into the warmth of his corporeal embrace. The rush of recognition and love which greeted her acted as a balm to her soul, easing the terrible fear burdening it since Keizo had fallen ill.
I’m here, Father.
Jelena…I’ve left you alone, but I don’t know why. What has happened to me? Why am I so confused?
You’re very sick, Father. Uncle Raidan has been caring for you, but he had to go south with the army. Sonoe and I are looking after you now.
Sonoe?
Yes, Father. Sonoe has hardly left your side. She’s been wonderful.
Sonoe…my beautiful one. I love her so very much.
I know, Father. She loves you, too.
Jelena, I loved your mother, truly I did.
I know that Father, and I understand why you two couldn’t be together.
Whenever I look at you, I see her. I’ve carried the pain of our separation with me all these years…my child! If I’d known about you, I never…
No, Father, don’t. Please don’t blame yourself.
But I do, and I always will. You are my first and only born child. By right, you should be queen of Alasiri after me.
You and I both know that’s not possible, Father. Your duty as king is to always do what’s best for the elven people. My uncle and his sons are the rightful heirs to your crown, not me. All I’ve ever wanted is to live a quiet life with my family, and that’s what I intend to do.
You’d have made a great queen, my daughter.
You rest now, Father.
Gently, Jelena severed the connection and withdrew from Keizo’s mind. She could feel him slipping away into sleep as she emerged from the trance, and upon opening her eyes, she checked the pulse at his throat, as she had been taught by Raidan, to reassure herself her father remained stable. In the soft light of the little oil lamps hanging above the bed, Keizo’s face appeared peaceful.
Jelena got up from her chair and raised her arms above her head in a long stretch, wincing at the tightness in her shoulders and back. She glanced out the open window at the night sky. A full moon hung round and brilliant in the gap between two peaks of the castle’s roofs.
Sonoe should be returning soon with a report on the preparations for the Sundering , she thought.
Jelena had deliberately shielded all thoughts about the ritual from Keizo, wishing to spare him unnecessary stress. Her father needed to focus all his energy on recovery.
As the days passed and the time for the Sundering approached, Jelena’s apprehension had melted into calm. The Kirians had prepped her as best they could. She felt strong and determined to survive. The Nameless One-that malevolent ghost of her centuries-dead ancestor-would be defeated and the Key safeguarded forever. They had no other options, after all.
A sudden craving for a sweet snack sent Jelena over to the pull-cord that would summon a servant to her father’s bedchamber, but before she could lay fingers on the rope, the doors flew open and Sonoe rushed in. Jelena turned to face her friend, a question about the ritual on her lips, but it died before she could utter it. Sonoe’s face gleamed white with shock.
“Sonoe, what…” Jelena whispered, but Sonoe cut her off with four astounding words.
“Jelena, Ashinji is alive!”
Gods… Magnes !”
Magnes stopped staring into the ashes of the dead fireplace anchoring the north wall of the keep to turn and face his sister.
“Hello, Thess,” he murmured.
Thessalina rushed toward him, then stopped within touching distance and simply stared, dark eyes shimmering with tears. Her mouth trembled and her nostrils flared. He couldn’t tell whether she wanted to sob or scream.
She did neither. She asked him a question. “Where have you been?”
Magnes raked his hands through his thick curls.
“Can we go somewhere and sit, Thess? This is going to take awhile.”
Thessalina turned and led the way in silence, up the stairs to the second floor study that had been their father’s. Magnes hesitated at the threshold. All the memories of that terrible night when last he had passed through this door-sick with fear and horror over what he had done-came flooding back, threatening to breach the walls he had thrown up to confine them and sweep him away.
Perhaps returning home was a mistake after all.
He closed his eyes and sucked in a deep, shaky breath, then entered the room. Thessalina already sat at the desk, hands folded before her. Magnes approached with hesitant steps then took the chair opposite.
Thessalina remained silent, in complete charge of her emotions now, her eyes neutral. Magnes studied his sister’s face and in that moment, he understood just who she had become. The little sister and childhood playmate had gone, replaced by a woman with the authority to order him imprisoned or executed. She was the duchess in all but name only, his living body her only obstacle to attaining all their father’s titles and wealth.
He opened his mouth to speak but found his voice had deserted him.
“You must be thirsty. I’ll call for some cider,” Thessalina said. Magnes nodded, grateful for the momentary reprieve. She arose and pulled the service cord by the fireplace. While they waited for a servant to arrive, Magnes allowed his eyes to wander about the study. Thessalina had made few changes; their father’s presence remained very much a part of the room, infusing the atmosphere with the residue of his personality. Magnes felt a flush creep over him; sweat prickled his brow. Against his will, he found his gaze drawn to the fireplace and it seemed as if no time had passed. The vision of his father’s face, slack-jawed in death, the smell of blood and urine, the metallic taste of fear in his own mouth…
Gods, this is all too much!
Abruptly, he leapt to his feet, stumbled to the open window behind the desk, and vomited.
Thessalina appeared at his shoulder, murmuring soothing words. Magnes hung in whey-faced misery over the casement until his stomach ceased its spasms, then raised up to face his sister, stubble-roughened cheeks red with shame. Thessalina took his hand in hers, and for a few moments, became his little sister again. She pressed a cloth into his fist-a handkerchief of fine white linen embroidered with tiny yellow flowers-which he used to wipe his mouth. Grimacing with renewed embarrassment, he started to return the handkerchief, then instead wadded it up and tucked it into his waistband.
A soft knock at the door signaled the arrival of the servant. The man entered the study and bowed. “Yes, my lady?” he inquired.
“Bring a jug of cider and two mugs please,” Thessalina ordered. The servant bowed again then exited the room. Brother and sister waited in silence until the servant returned, bearing a heavy pitcher and two ceramic mugs. He deposited his burden on a side table, then departed. Thessalina poured for both of them and handed Magnes a mug. He took a sip, swished the tart liquid around inside his mouth, then spat over the casement. Thessalina raised her mug to her lips, and together, they drank.
Feeling refreshed and a little more in control, Magnes returned to his chair and sat, cradling the mug between both hands. Thessalina remained by the window, waiting for him to speak.
“I don’t remember attacking him, Thess,” Magnes began. “That part is a blank. We were arguing. He said some things about Livie. Gods, it was ugly!” He paused to take another swig of cider. “Something came over me. I don’t know what. Like nothing I’ve ever felt before. It was…horrible, like a red fog. I understand now what some men mean when they speak of the berserker madness.”
He looked up at Thessalina and found, to his surprise, a measure of understanding. “I remember a struggle, then the next thing I knew, Father lay at my feet with…with…” He could not make his mouth form the words. He shook his head to loosen his tongue.
“A maid came in and she must have seen him. She screamed and I panicked. In hindsight I know now pure cowardice made me run. I wish I’d had the courage to stay, but at the time, all I could think of was that I’d be blamed for his murder. So I ran and I didn’t stop until I’d made it all the way to Darguinia. Where better to go, if one wants to disappear? It would be as if Magnes Preseren had never existed.”
His mouth twisted in a bitter smile at the flood of memories. “I changed my name and joined a holy brotherhood of humble healers, of a foreign god, no less! I thought by serving the poor and living as a simple healer, I could somehow make up for what I’d done.”
He went on to recount his life as an Eskleipan and how it had eventually brought him some peace. “The daily routine helped me to deal with the pain and, finally, to get it under control.”
“Why did you come back?” Thessalina asked quietly. She had remained silent throughout her brother’s narrative, until now.
“I ran into someone in Darguinia, a friend. Someone you’ve met, actually. He had suffered incredible ill fortune and had wound up in terrible circumstances. He convinced me I needed to come home and face up to what had happened, but now that I’m here, I’m beginning to think I should have stayed away.”
He looked around the room with haunted eyes. “Entering this room again took just about everything I had. I can feel Father’s presence so strongly. It’s as if he’s still here! I feel his anger, Thess. He blames me for his death, and rightly so.” He paused and drained his cup. “If I spend the rest of my life in atonement, it still won’t wash me clean of my crime,” he added.
Thessalina pushed away from the window and returned to her desk. She held still for several heartbeats, her eyes focused on her sun-browned hands. Finally, she spoke. “Magnes, the maid saw everything. She testified at a formal inquiry that Father attacked you, and how, during the struggle, he slipped and fell against the mantle. The magistrate officially ruled our father’s death an accident.”
Thessalina fell silent for a moment, then continued. “You know I love you,” she stated. “You’re my big brother, the one who took me riding on his pony before I was old enough to have one of my own. You taught me how to swim, and how to steal sweets from the kitchen without getting caught.” She looked up at him, her face stark with hurt. “How could you run away from me, Magnes? How could you not trust me to see the truth of things? Gods, Brother! I know you could have never, ever killed our father on purpose.”
“Thess, I’m so sorry,” Magnes whispered. “I don’t deserve your forgiveness.”
Tears wet Thessalina’s cheeks. “I would forgive you anything, Brother. Now, you have to forgive yourself,” she replied.
“Someone else said the very same thing to me recently,” Magnes murmured. He looked into his sister’s dark eyes. “I’m not sure I know how.”
A dog howled in mournful counterpoint to Magnes’ words from the yard below.
Thessalina sniffed and blotted her wet face on her sleeve. “Now that you’re back,” she said slowly, “there’s the question of your inheritance.” She paused and Magnes could sense a subtle shift in her attitude, from empathy to ambivalence.
“What about it, Thess?” he prompted.
“When you disappeared and we’d heard no word from you, Father’s vassals grew restless. There was even a plot, hatched by Sebastianus of Veii, to ride into Amsara and declare himself Duke! Thank the gods I had enough allies to prevent that.” She picked up a gilt-handled letter opener and began twirling it in her hands. “Magnes, none of us knew if you were ever coming back. I even sent a professional Tracker to find you, but he failed, obviously. Word started going around that you were dead.”
Magnes bit his lower lip. “Death may have been easier on me than what I went through,” he muttered.
“I had to make a decision,” Thessalina continued. “The duchy needed leadership and a clear succession. I thought long and hard and decided I couldn’t wait, so I sent a petition to the capital, asking the empress to officially bestow upon me the title of Duchess and grant me all of Father’s lands. I’d already led the diversionary campaign against the elves last fall, and I had the respect and support of most of Father’s allies.”
Magnes nodded. “None of this comes as much of a surprise,” he commented.
“The empress granted my petition, Brother. I am legally still your regent, but when a year and a day have passed from the date of my petition, I will officially become Duchess of Amsara; that is, unless you decide to contest it. You are still alive, after all, and your claim supercedes mine. The empress will have no choice but to rescind my grant if you declare your intention to take back what is yours.” Thessalina’s next words fell from her lips reluctantly, as though they had to be pushed. “I won’t fight you, Magnes, if you want Amsara back.”
Ever since they had been children, Thessalina led and he, Magnes, had followed, even though he had been the firstborn. Thessalina had inherited all of Duke Teodorus’ drive and ability for leadership. Though Magnes favored their father in appearance, their mother’s gentle temperament formed the core of his personality.
No. Thessalina stands in her rightful place and we both know it.
“I won’t contest, Sister. You should have been Father’s Heir all along. I just wish he could have seen the truth of that. It would have saved all of us a lot of pain.” A tangle of emotions wrapped up and stilled his voice. He closed his eyes and concentrated on breathing until the spell passed. “All I ask is that you allow me to stay on and manage the estates, like I always did for Father,” he murmured.
Thessalina stood and stepped around to the front of the desk. Magnes rose to meet her and they fell into each other’s arms.
“I missed you so much, Big Brother!” Thessalina mumbled into his shoulder.
“I missed you, too,” he replied, stroking her dark, braided hair.
They held each other awhile longer, then Thessalina gently pushed away. A wan smile curved her lips. “You said you’d found a friend in Darguinia in bad circumstances, someone I’d met.”
“Yes, and he wanted me to give you a message.”
“Tell me who it was,” Thessalina demanded.
“Let me give you his message first. He said to thank you for his life.”
Thessalina’s brow furrowed with puzzlement. “I don’t recall saving anybody’s life, Brother,” she said. “Are you certain this friend…” She paused in mid-sentence and her eyes grew soft and unfocused. “The elf,” she breathed. “Ash…Ashee…”
“Ashinji Sakehera,” Magnes corrected. “You remember him now, I see.”
Thessalina nodded. “One of my patrols captured him at the beginning of the fall campaign. He had been badly wounded. Shot through the shoulder. My commanders demanded he be killed and returned to the elves in pieces, but I refused. Since I couldn’t send him back alive and I couldn’t stomach having him killed, I sold him to a slaver instead.” She paused, hand pressed to her mouth. “So, he survived. Or did he?” Magnes heard a strange catch in her voice.
“He did, though for a time, I didn’t think he would. I worked as a healer at the Grand Arena. I found Ashinji enslaved at the de Guera yard, one of Darguinia’s most prestigious. He was one of Armina de Guera’s best fighters, but it wasn’t in the arena where he nearly met his death. A fellow slave stabbed him in the back.”
Magnes went on to recount the difficult feat of surgery he had performed on Ashinji. He also described the escape and flight out of Darguinia.
“You helped a slave escape his rightful owner, Brother? Do you know what would have happened to you if you’d been caught?” Thessalina frowned for a moment, then sighed. “I’m glad to hear the elf’s alive and on his way back home.”
Her expression grew pensive. “My men dragged him into our camp, badly hurt and in a lot of pain. He must have been so afraid.” Thessalina’s voice grew soft as she remembered. “But he never gave in to fear and he never lost his dignity, even in the face of the most terrible humiliation. I only spoke to him briefly, but it was enough to make me think.”
“About what?” Magnes asked.
“About why we hate the elves. I’d never seen one before, other than Jelena, and she’s only half-elf. I looked at him…” Thessalina paused and a stain of red crept into her tanned cheeks. She cleared her throat and continued. “I spent a lot of time just staring at him while he slept. He never knew I did that. I finally realized he was just a scared young man, hurt and alone among his enemies. I came to admire him for his courage. I knew I couldn’t change the attitudes of my commanders, or of the ranks, but I could change my own.”
“Ashinji sensed your change of heart, Sister. That’s why he wanted me to thank you,” Magnes said.
“Someday, I hope I get the chance to apologize to him and to Jelena,” Thessalina murmured.
A loud knock on the study door interrupted their exchange. “Come!” Thessalina called out.
A man dressed in dusty brown leathers strode into the room, a packet clutched in his gloved hand. The silver badge of the Imperial Couriers winked on his shoulder. He touched his fist to his cap in salute and said, “My lady, I bear an official dispatch from the Soldaran High Command.”
Thessalina held out her hand and the messenger placed the packet in it. She laid it on the desk, then rummaged among the clutter to retrieve a silver half-sol coin, which she dropped onto the man’s palm. He saluted again and departed.
Thessalina eagerly picked up the packet. Several official wax seals affixed to cords secured the wrapper. Magnes recognized the largest-the Great Seal of Empress Constantia herself.
“What is that?” he asked, but he had already guessed the answer.
Thessalina broke the seals and unfolded the thick sheaf of papers. Her eyes scanned the contents. “These are my mobilization orders,” she said, confirming Magnes’ suspicion. “I’ve been expecting these, but I thought they would’ve come long before now. I’m to bring my levies with all speed to the Portanus Pass to join with the main body of the Imperial Army.” She glanced at Magnes, then looked back to the papers. “I’m to leave a third of my forces behind, to act as a rear guard against any attempt by the elves to cross the border at the Janica River fords.”
“That’s unlikely,” Magnes stated. “I’m certain there’s nothing but a small defensive garrison left at Kerala Castle. Lord Sakehera, Ashinji’s father, is one of the elf king’s generals. He’ll be at Tono, I mean Portanus, for sure.”
Thessalina dropped the papers atop the desk. Her demeanor had changed again. The acting Duchess of Amsara stood before Magnes once again. “There’s much to be done, Brother. I must go now. I’ll see you at supper in the hall tonight?”
“Yes,” Magnes replied.
“So, how fares our cousin?” Thessalina inquired.
She and Magnes sat at one end of the massive rectangular oak table that dominated the center of Amsara Castle’s great hall. A simple supper of rabbit pie, boiled turnips, salad, and apples had been sent over from the kitchen, along with a crock of last fall’s hard cider.
“Very well, when last I saw her,” Magnes replied. He took a bite of pie. “She and Ashinji had not yet wed, but from what I could see, they were very much in love. By the time your men captured Ashinji, he and Jelena were married and she was several months pregnant. Ashi has a son or daughter he’s never seen.”
“I hope, truly, that our cousin and her child will be safe,” Thessalina sighed. “This war is going to be very hard on the elves. I wish…” Thessalina paused to wipe at eyes gone red. “I wish now that I had treated Jelena better.”
Magnes’ eyebrows shot up. “I never expected to hear you say that.”
“Well, that makes two of us,” Thessalina replied, taking a deep pull from her cider mug.
“There’s something else about Jelena I haven’t told you yet,” Magnes said, setting his fork down. Thessalina looked at him, waiting.
“I know you think Jelena left Amsara to avoid becoming Veii’s concubine, but that’s not the only reason,” Magnes explained. “She also wanted to find her father.”
“Did she?” Thessalina asked.
“Yes, she did, but he was not at all what she expected.”
“Oh?”
“Just before she, that is, before we left, Claudia gave her a signet ring and told her it belonged to her father.”
“A signet ring? Then he must be one of their noble-born,” Thessalina said.
“You could say that,” Magnes chuckled. “The signet turned out to be the family crest of the Onjaras, the rulers of Alasiri.”
“Jelena’s father is a member of the elven royal family ?”
“Not just a member, Thess. Her father is the Onjara. King Silverlock, himself.” Thessalina stared at her brother in shocked silence. “I know how you feel,” Magnes continued. “I think I looked the same way you do now when Ashinji told me. Turns out, our cousin is a princess.”
“Gods,” Thessalina whispered.
“What we call the Portanus Valley the elves call Tono. Thess, if they can’t hold it, Alasiri will be overrun. You and I both know what that will mean for them,” Magnes said.
“Yes, and there’s not a damn thing I can do about it, Brother,” Thessalina snapped. “I have my duty to the empress as one of her chief vassals. I can’t disobey her orders.” Her dark eyes roiled with anger.
“I’m not suggesting you shirk your duty, Sister. I just want you to know what’s at stake. Jelena and her child, both of whom are innocent, may not survive.”
“I know what’s at stake! A lot of innocent people won’t survive, Magnes. It’s what happens in war, for gods’ sake.” Thessalina threw up her hands. “I wish things were otherwise, I really do, but I haven’t the power to change what’s going to happen. We outnumber the elves by at least three to one. They can’t defeat us. Portanus will be taken, and if the empress orders us to press forward and take all of the Western Lands, then that’s what we’ll do!” She lowered her voice and her face softened. “I’m sure that once the elves surrender and they’re absorbed into the empire, things won’t be so bad for them.”
“How can you say that?” Magnes’ voice rose to a near shout. “First, they’ll never surrender. Second, you know what the average human believes about them. You believed all of that rubbish yourself!”
“Brother, I…” Thessalina began, but Magnes cut her off.
“The empress doesn’t want the elves as subjects. She wants them all removed and Alasiri repopulated with humans. This isn’t a simple war of conquest, Sister. It’s a campaign of extermination!”
Thessalina leaned back in her chair, jaw set. “What would you have me do?”
“Damn it…I don’t know!” Magnes cried. Immediately, he regretted his outburst and the anger within him trickled away, leaving a dark stain of sadness in its wake. He cursed the powerlessness that threatened to drown him in despair. In truth, there was nothing either of them could do to stop any of it, just as Thessalina had said.
“I can’t come with you,” he murmured. “I won’t bear arms against the elves.”
“I’d be lying if I said I’m surprised,” Thessalina sighed. “You’ll stay, then, and run Amsara while I’m gone.” Her words, for all their softness, still fell upon Magnes with the unmistakable force of command.
“Thank you,” he replied. An enormous yawn threatened to break apart his jaw. “Gods, I’m so tired. I’ve been on the road for over two weeks. I need to go to bed.”
Thessalina nodded. “Your old rooms aren’t too dusty, I hope. I had standing orders to keep them clean just in case you returned, but two of the chambermaids left service so we’ve been short-staffed.”
“They aren’t bad. A little musty, is all,” Magnes replied.
“I doubt I’ll see my bed much before sunrise,” Thessalina said. “There’s still so much to do.” She reached over and laid a hand atop his. Her fingertips and palm felt as callused as any peasant’s. “I’m glad you’ll be here to look after Amsara while I’m gone, Brother. Our people have always loved you. They’ll feel safe with you here.”
“Our people have nothing to fear,” Magnes replied quietly.
Magnes woke later that night with the sour taste of nightmares on his tongue. Afraid to go back to sleep, he rose, pulled on a tunic and trousers then slipped his feet into a pair of old sandals. A shadow among shadows, he made his way out of the keep and headed across the yard toward the chapel. He paused outside the door, then looked up at the glittering vault of the night sky.
Are Jelena and Ashi reunited yet , he wondered. Did they sleep within the comfort of each other’s arms beneath this very same sky, their baby cradled between them?
He pushed the heavy wooden door inward and entered the silent chapel. Two brass lamps burned on the altar, filling the room with dim golden light and flickering shadows. A sweet residue of incense hung in the air. With faltering footsteps, Magnes made his way down the center aisle, past the front of the altar painted with representations of the gods, to the staircase leading down to the crypt. An unlocked iron gate barred the entrance. Realizing he had no light, Magnes stepped over to the altar and grabbed a lamp. He thought of the last time he had come here, on that long ago night he and Jelena had fled Amsara.
Now, guilt pricked him as, trembling, he descended to the crypt. In the cool darkness, the departed generations of Preserens, rulers of Amsara for over three hundred years, rested in silence. The tiny pool of light cast by the altar lamp allowed Magnes to find his way through the rows of sarcophagi without stumbling. As the most recent internment, he knew his father’s sarcophagus would lie near the front.
He found it alongside the slightly smaller one containing his mother’s remains. Both were fashioned of gray marble, topped with lifelike effigies of their respective occupants. Magnes paused to gaze at the carved stone likeness of his mother. The blank eyes stared, unseeing, at the ceiling. The face bore little resemblance to the woman he only barely recalled from childhood memories.
Magnes raised the small lamp higher to illuminate his father’s tomb. The unknown artist had done a superb job of coaxing Duke Teodorus’ plain, blunt features from the dark stone; it seemed at any moment, the father would awaken from his cold slumber to arise and denounce his treacherous son.
A strangled sob clawed its way past Magnes’ clenched teeth; he collapsed to his knees beside the tomb. With shaking hands, he set the lamp atop the carved folds of the effigy’s gown.
Tears wet his cheeks as Magnes laid his hands over his father’s chilly marble fingers. “I’m sorry Father,” he sobbed. “I have no right to ask for your forgiveness. I was always a disappointment to you! I wish with all my heart I could have been the son you wanted. I just couldn’t. It was never in me.”
He stared into the empty eyes of the effigy, as if by sheer force of will, he could draw a response from the stone. Duke Teodorus remained frozen, implacable, unreachable.
How long he sat slumped beside his father’s tomb Magnes didn’t know, for he had lost all sense of time in the dark and stillness. Shadows crowded around the tiny pool of light cast by the altar lamp like the spectral presences of his departed progenitors. They surrounded him, accusing, his father’s angry spirit standing at the fore.
Staggering to his feet, Magnes snatched the lamp and fled. He slipped on the slick stairs, cracking his left knee on the brutal stone. Groaning, he stumbled up and out of the crypt, then paused just beyond the gate. Breath ragged with agony, he massaged his knee, trying to get some sense of how badly he had injured it. His probing fingers told him nothing.
The chapel’s narrow windows glimmered like pearl rectangles within the blackness of the surrounding walls. Dawn was fast approaching. Magnes had been down in the crypt for most of the night. Wearily, he limped toward the front of the chapel, pausing to replace the altar lamp in its rightful spot, then he slipped out through the door to the yard.
Already, he could feel his knee stiffening as he made his way back to the keep. As he passed the kitchen, he heard sounds of activity within. Cook and her staff were always the first ones up and working well before sunrise; the bread had to go into the ovens before anything else.
When Magnes came at last to his rooms, his knee throbbed with such fierceness, he feared he had torn something loose. As bad as it hurt, though, it felt as nothing compared to the pain in his soul. By visiting his father’s tomb, he had hoped to ease some of the guilt tormenting him since his return home; instead, he had accomplished the opposite. What peace he had found while living and working with the Eskleipans had been shattered like a dropped mirror into a thousand jagged shards.
You have to find a way to forgive yourself.
Thessalina’s words rang mockingly in his head. Magnes groaned aloud.
How can I, when what I’ve done is so heinous?
Who, in all of Amsara, could help him?
He returned to his bed, but sleep refused to come.
Four days later, beneath the banner of the Duchy of Amsara-three black lions rampant on an azure field-Thessalina rode out of Amsara Castle at the head of a force numbering some four hundred foot soldiers and a hundred light cavalry.
The ruddy early morning light painted helmets and spearheads with crimson. High atop the castle walls where Magnes stood, the sound of marching boots rumbled like distant thunder. He watched Thessalina’s army until it had dwindled to a dark smudge on the horizon, then limped back down the stairs and headed across the yard toward the kitchen. He wasn’t really hungry but the part of his mind which could still think rationally reminded him he must eat.
He allowed Cook to serve him a bowl of hot oatmeal, accompanied by a thick slice of bread, fresh from the oven. The look and aroma of the food elicited no response from his body. Each bite became a monumental struggle. Just as he decided to give up and leave his meal unfinished, Claudia appeared at his side, her own breakfast in her hands.
“Are ye leavin’ already, young master? Why, ye’ve hardly touched yer breakfast! Are ye ill?”
Claudia looked a little more stooped, a little less stout, than when he had last seen her, just before his world fell apart on that terrible night all those months ago. Her pale blue eyes had lost none of their sparkle or motherly concern, however. Magnes had not spoken with his old nurse since returning home. He realized upon seeing her now that she knew nothing of Jelena’s fate.
“No, Claudia. I’m not ill,” he lied. “I hurt my knee and it aches, is all.”
Claudia cocked an eyebrow. “Now, young master Magnes, ye never could fib t’me!” She set her bowl and cup on the table and sank to the bench beside him. “Tell yer ol’ Claudia what really ails ye.” Her voice, so gentle and full of affection nearly caused Magnes to break down and tell her the truth, but he stopped himself.
How can I burden this dear, sweet woman with the poison that festers in my soul? She couldn’t possibly understand.
Instead, he changed the subject. “I’ve news of Jelena.”
Claudia’s seamed face lit up as bright as a solstice candle. “Oh, Master Magnes, if’n ye mean the news about my baby bein’ a princess, then I already know!”
“How did you find out?” Magnes replied, startled.
“Jelena’s man told me. Her husband.”
“Ashinji was here ?” Magnes exclaimed. “Here at Amsara? Are you sure, Claudia?”
“Sure I’m sure, young master. I saw him, I did. Spoke to him, even! He told me who he was. He had such a pretty name, but so strange and hard t’ get the tongue ’round. Ashee, it was. He told me my baby was expectin’ her first baby, theirs t’gether. Oh, Master, I cried, I was so happy!”
“Did my sister’s soldiers bring Ashi here?” Magnes asked.
Claudia frowned. “No, sir. They weren’t no soldiers! Hard lookin’ they was, an’ they kept poor Ashee chained to their wagon like a dog.” Claudia’s voice quivered with sorrow.
The slavers. Of course , Magnes thought.
“I think he was hurt, too, ’cause it looked like his arm was all bound up,” Claudia continued. “I prayed every night fer a week, askin’ the gods to protect him, even though he weren’t human. He was my Jelena’s man, an’ the father of her child.”
“Those men who had Ashi were slavers, Claudia,” Magnes explained. “They took him all the way to Darguinia where they sold him to a very wealthy woman. That’s where I found him. His mistress used him as a gladiator.”
Claudia gasped and pressed her hand to her mouth. “Is he…” Her voice died in her throat before she could finish.
Magnes smiled as he squeezed her forearm. “No. I helped him to escape. He’s probably back home with Jelena by now.”
“Praise the gods!” the old woman whispered.
“Ashi told you about Jelena’s father, then?” Magnes asked.
“Aye, he did, Master. The king of the elves! I always knew my baby was special, an’ that her dad was noble-born, but a princess? That I never s’spected.” She dabbed her eyes on the hem of her apron. “I guess I’ll not see my lamb again, leastways not in this life.”
“You never know what fate has in store, Claudia,” Magnes replied.
The old nurse nodded, then murmured, “My girl is where she truly belongs now.”
Magnes sat with Claudia while she ate her breakfast, answering her questions about Alasiri and the elves. For a time, he managed to forget his pain.
When she had finished her oatmeal and tea, the old nurse said, “Now, if’n you’ll excuse me, I must be getting’ this old carcass to the laundry.” She rose to her feet, pausing for a few heartbeats with hand pressed to her chest. Her breath rattled alarmingly, then she bent over in a fit of coughing.
Magnes tried to slip his hands beneath her elbows, but she waved him off.
“Claudia, how long have you had that nasty cough?” he inquired after she had recovered enough to stand upright again.
“Ai, ’tis nothing, young master, just a bit ’o the lung fever, is all. I’ll be all right. I’m very strong, you know,” the old woman insisted.
“That’s not what I asked you,” Magnes responded patiently. “How long have you been sick?”
She shrugged. “Don’t rightly know. Not long, though. I drink me some coltsfoot and licorice tea sweetened with honey and at night I lay a nice onion an’ mustard poultice on my chest. Right as rain I am by mornin’!”
Magnes frowned, knowing Claudia made light of her condition.
“When I was in Darguinia, I learned a thing or two about healing,” he said. “I trained with the Eskleipans, a very learned order. I’ll make you some of their remedies.”
“Ach, beggin’ yer pardon, young master, but them Esk, Ekslepans sound too foreign t’ me,” Claudia complained.
“They might not be Soldaran, but they were the only healing order in all of Darguinia who weren’t a bunch of charlatans. Do you trust me, Claudia?”
Claudia’s eyes widened and her mouth formed an O of dismay. “My lord, o’course I trust you! I didna’ mean…”
Magnes squeezed her shoulder. “I’ll send the medicines up to the servants’ hall as soon as I’ve made them,” he said.
Claudia offered a crooked smile. “Thank ye, young master.”
She turned to go but Magnes stopped her with a hand upon her forearm. “Claudia, I don’t think you should be working so hard,” he said gently. “You need to rest so you can get your health back.”
“Don’t be daft, m’lord!” Claudia scolded. “Me? Not work hard? What good would I be if I couldn’t work, eh? I’m still just as strong as th’ day I delivered you and laid you squawkin’ on yer mam’s belly!” Though the top notes of her voice rang with bravado, Magnes heard an unmistakable undertone of resignation. Claudia, like most common-born folk who managed to survive into old age, was a fatalist, and quite prepared to accept whatever came, be it restored good health or death.
“I’ll find an easier post for you,” Magnes promised. “You’ve served my family well and faithfully, and you deserve a rest. Let me do this for you.”
“It would be nice t’ get away from all that heat an’ smell,” Claudia sighed.
“It’s settled, then,” Magnes said.
They parted company at the kitchen door, she toward the laundry, he toward the stables. As he stood for a few moments watching his old nurse hobble across the yard, the peace he had enjoyed while sitting with her at breakfast dissolved. Once more, despair slithered up and wrapped him in its clammy embrace.
Got to keep moving , he thought, as he shook himself and continued on. He had no choice; he could stick to the routine of his duties, run the duchy in his sister’s absence, or go mad.
The days drifted by, one very much like another. Magnes drifted as well, trying not to think too much, and above all, trying not to feel . Thinking led to remembering, and remembering led to pain. The duke haunted his dreams again, after leaving him in peace for the last few months. To stave off the nightmares, Magnes drank himself into a stupor each night.
Somehow, he managed to crawl from his bed every morning and attend to his duties, though the effort proved more and more difficult with each passing day. He lost all desire for food; everything he put into his mouth tasted like dust. He ate only because he must in order to stay alive, and increasingly, that was beginning to look like endless torment.
At sunrise, on the twentieth day after Thessalina and her army had left to join the Imperial Army, Magnes stood once again on the battlements, looking down and wondering how long it would take to hit the ground should he decide to jump. Gazing out from the dark, terrible place that had become his prison, death seemed like the perfect choice, if only he had the courage.
He blinked…and found himself on the wall, crouched between two crenellations. He blinked again…and rocked on his heels, fingers caressing the rough stone. He blinked a third time and relaxed into the embrace of the air…only to have unseen hands snatch him backward.
A man’s voice, shrill with distress, cried out his name. Strong arms wrapped about him, pinning him against a leather and metal-clad body.
“Gods! Lord Magnes, what’re ye doin’? Ye almost fell off’n the wall!”
A shaft of sunlight pierced the veil of clouds that squatted on the horizon, dazzling Magnes’ eyes. He lifted a hand to his face and it came back wet with tears.
“I…I don’t know what I’m doing,” he stammered. “Help me!”
“Just tell me how, milord!” The guardsman released Magnes from his bear hug but stood close, his broad face twisted with confusion.
Magnes started at the man and dredged a name from somewhere deep in his memory. “Talin.” he croaked.
“Come down to the yard with me, milord,” Talin coaxed. “Please!” As he spoke, the guard inserted himself between Magnes and the wall.
Magnes nodded in acquiescence and allowed Talin to lead him down. At the bottom of the steep stairs, the guardsman touched his forehead in salute, then stood regarding his lord with embarrassed concern. He seemed at a loss as to what to say or do next.
Poor bastard. It isn’t every day one’s lord attempts to throw himself from the battlements , Magnes thought.
“Thank you, Talin.” Magnes couldn’t bear to look at the guardsman’s face, for fear the pity he had see in the other man’s eyes would shatter him completely. What had happened-no, what had almost happened-up there on the wall filled him with nearly as much shame and horror as the original act that had precipitated it.
Talin ducked his head and kicked at an imaginary clod of dirt. “Don’t need no thanks, milord. Just doin’ my duty,” he replied. “Will you be all right now, milord?”
Magnes nodded. “You may return to your post,” he said.
The guard bowed again and started back up the stairs. Just before rounding the first curve, he turned and glanced over his shoulder at Magnes, shook his head, then disappeared from view. Magnes sighed. By nightfall, the entire castle would be abuzz with the news that the duchess’s brother had tried to kill himself.
Magnes had known he teetered on the crumbling edge of a cliff and, sooner or later, he would fall. Perhaps the gods themselves had a hand in his rescue, perhaps not; either way, he knew he had to do something, change something , in order to step back from the brink.
Only one person could help him now.
Greenwood Town lay a day’s ride from Amsara Castle. Magnes’ final destination stood on the town’s eastern edge, set back from the road down a tree-lined path. He arrived just as the sun touched the crowns of the trees, setting them afire.
A big black dog chuffed up the path to greet him, letting loose a single deep bark, but the effort proved too lackadaisical to cause any alarm. Magnes’ horse Storm snorted in equine disdain. A child’s piping laughter floated on the warm air, commingling with the happy squeals of an infant. Storm plodded on, escorted by the black dog, and soon the house came into view.
Magnes drew rein at the gate and swung from the saddle. A boy of about seven summers sat cross-legged in the middle of the yard, entertaining a toddler with puppets made of twigs and bits of brightly colored cloth. The boy looked up as Magnes tied Storm to the fence post, then pushed open the gate.
“Ma’s out back,” the boy announced. He had a narrow, well-sculpted face beneath a shock of black hair, high cheekbones and dark intelligent eyes.
Magnes smiled. “Is your father at home?” he asked. The boy shook his head, quick and sharp as a bird.
“Naw. Da’s off with th’ duchess, fightin’ in the war,” he replied.
Of course , Magnes thought. “Will you go and fetch your mother, then?” The boy’s brow furrowed as if he were thinking very hard. Abruptly, he nodded, dropped the puppets, climbed to his feet, then swung the baby into his arms. Staggering under his burden, he disappeared around the side of the house. Magnes waited.
After he had counted forty of his own heartbeats, she appeared.
Magnes had always been able to discern her thoughts just by reading the subtle cues of eyes, brow, and mouth, but as the young woman approached, wiping her hands on a clay-stained apron, her face remained unreadable. She stopped an arm’s length away and simply looked at him, hands hanging at her sides. The boy came to stand beside her, the baby still in his arms.
“Hello, Livie,” Magnes murmured.
I heard you’d disappeared after the duke died,” Livie said.
The wind that always came with sunset rattled the tree branches overhead. It lifted the hem of Livie’s skirt and blew strands of her raven hair across her brow.
“I went south to Darguinia.”
Magnes searched Livie’s face in vain for a clue to her thoughts. The toddler, a girl, began to fuss, but before she launched into a full tantrum, Livie scooped her out of the boy’s arms.
“Come inside,” she said. “It’s getting too dark out here.” She turned and led the way into the cottage. Once inside, she plopped the baby onto a rug before the hearth, then moved around the room, lighting the lamps with a burning splinter. “Sarian, go fetch me some bacon from the smokehouse,” she called out over her shoulder and the boy scampered out the door.
Magnes settled on a stool by the hearth and waited for Livie to finish her task. The baby had found a bit of fluff on the rug and was absorbed in pulling it apart with her chubby fingers. Magnes took a deep breath as he wrestled with his pain and regret, but the feelings proved too strong to be easily vanquished.
This should have been our home and our child , he thought.
“Her name is Rose,” Livie said. She pulled a chair up beside him and sat. “She’s just past her second birthday.”
“She’s beautiful,” Magnes managed to answer. He feared he would sob if he said any more.
“Sarian is my husband’s son by his first wife,” Livie explained. “She died giving birth to him. I’m the only mother he’s ever known.”
They both looked up as the boy burst into the room, out of breath and carrying a chunk of smoked meat. Livie stood up, took the bacon from his hands, and carried it to the table. Sarian followed, licking grease from his fingers. Livie sliced the meat, laying the strips on a platter while the boy watched, shifting from foot to foot.
“C’n I have a piece now, Ma?” he asked.
“Be patient, love,” Livie replied gently. “Ma’s almost done.”
“Sarian,” Magnes called out. “Come over here and talk to me.” After a final, lingering glance at the food, the boy spun about and flung himself on the floor at Magnes’ feet. He looked up, regarding his mother’s visitor with all the gravity a seven year old could muster.
“Are you my uncle?” he asked.
“No. I’m an old friend of your ma’s,” Magnes replied.
“D’you know my da?”
“No. I’ve never met your father, although I’m certain he’s a very good man.” Magnes glanced at Livie, but her face was turned away from him.
“That’s my sister,” the boy said, pointing at the baby. “She can’t talk so good now, but she’s learnin’. I’m teachin’ her.”
“That’s just what a big brother is supposed to do, Sarian. Teach his little sister everything he knows.”
“Supper’s ready,” Livie announced. The boy jumped to his feet and rushed to the table.
“I’d like to wash my hands first,” Magnes said.
“Sarian, show our guest to the basin.”
“Awww, Ma, I wanna eat…” Livie’s frown cut short the boy’s complaint. “C’mon,” he huffed, beckoning to Magnes with a wave of his small hand.
Stifling a chuckle, Magnes followed the child outside. Sarian led him around the house to a stone basin filled with water. Magnes rinsed his hands and face, and after a moment’s hesitation, Sarian followed suit.
When they returned, Livie had laid out a simple meal of bacon, cheese, bread and apples on the round oak table. A dish of fresh butter and blackberry preserves for the bread, a jug of beer for the grown-ups and milk for the children completed the repast. Magnes took a chair beside Sarian while Livie seated herself opposite, cradling baby Rose on her lap.
She handed Magnes a plate. “Why are you here, Magnes?” she asked, and for the first time since he had arrived, he sensed her emotions.
She’s furious but trying hard not to lose control.
Magnes chewed and swallowed a mouthful of bacon before answering. “I needed to talk to someone who knows me better than I know myself,” he replied softly.
“And you thought that someone was me?” Livie’s biting tone cut him like the jagged edge of a broken mirror, adding to his already prodigious collection of mental wounds.
“Whatever you think I’ve done, or didn’t do, please know I’m so very sorry.”
“It’s too late for regrets.” Livie sighed.
“I can’t change the past, but you don’t know the whole truth.” Magnes paused to collect his thoughts before continuing. “My father told me just before…before he died, that he had deliberately lied to you to make you think I’d tossed you aside. He did that to us. He thought if I believed I’d lost you, I’d go meekly into a marriage with a girl I loathed. He was wrong, and all of us paid dearly.”
Livie’s face crumpled as he spoke and tears spilled down her cheeks. “Why are you telling me this now?” she whispered.
“Because I need you to understand what happened. I never abandoned you or stopped loving you.”
Livie covered her face with her hands.
Sarian watched, wide-eyed. “Don’t be sad, Ma,” he said, laying a hand on her forearm. “Da will be home soon.”
“Yes, love. I know.” Livie wiped her eyes on the hem of her apron, then took a long drink from her beer mug. Magnes remained silent, sensing she needed to just sit for a while.
Finally, Livie spoke. “Sarian, take your sister and go sit by the hearth. Ma needs to talk her friend about grown-up things.”
“But I haven’t finished supper yet.” The boy stuck out his lower lip.
“Take your plate and cup first, then come back for your sister. Go on now.” Livie brushed gentle fingers through the child’s dark hair. With a huff, the boy did as he was told.
After both children had settled out of earshot, Livie said, “My husband and I have made a good life for ourselves. Our pottery business is thriving. Our children are strong and healthy. When I came to Greenwood to marry Jonus, I swore to myself I’d give my entire heart to him, make the effort to love him as he deserved to be loved, and for the most part, I’ve kept that vow.” She regarded Magnes with eyes grown hard.
“I’m not here to complicate your life, I swear. I’ve come only because I need your help.” He let all the pain and desperation tearing apart his life bleed into his voice.
For an instant, he feared she would refuse him, but then Livie shook her head and her expression softened. “Of course I’ll help you, Magnes. Just tell me how.”
“I know my father’s death was an accident, but I still blame myself and it’s destroying me,” he murmured. “I nearly jumped off Amsara’s wall the other day. The only reason I’m alive now is because a guard stopped me.”
Livie’s hands flew to her mouth. After a few moments, she relaxed and laid a hand atop his. “I am so thankful that guard was there to stop you. I don’t know if I could have borne it if you’d…” Her voice sank to a rough whisper.
“I just want the pain to go away. I thought I’d come to terms with what I’d done, found some peace, but it was an illusion. The monstrous nature of what I did denies me any hope of forgiveness!”
“It’s time for you to put this all behind you and get on with living.”
Magnes shook his head. “If only it were that easy.”
Livie closed her eyes and caught her lower lip between her teeth, a gesture Magnes recognized. She always did that when wrestling with a difficult decision.
Rose’s happy squeal broke the stillness. Livie’s eyes flew open, all traces of uncertainty gone. She stood, then went to retrieve the baby from the hearth. As she placed Rose on his lap, startled, Magnes looked into Livie’s face and saw the truth.“Gods,” he whispered.
Livie nodded. “We made her on the last night we were together, just before you left with your cousin. I knew I was pregnant when I came to Greenwood to marry Jonus.” She returned to her chair, then rested her chin in her hand. The anger Magnes had sensed smoldering just below the surface had gone, replaced now by wistful sadness.
“Does your husband know?”
“Yes. I mean, I think he knew all along, but Jonus is the kindest, most decent man I’ve ever known. He’s never said a word of reproach, and he loves Rose with all his heart.”
And I love him. Magnes did not need to hear Livie say the words to know they lived in her heart, unspoken but very real.
He laid his cheek against Rose’s head and breathed in her sweet aroma. Something shifted within him, and the crushing weight of despair began to ease. He turned Rose so he could look into her face, and within her eyes, he saw his salvation.
“Maaaan,” Rose said, pointing a finger at Magnes, and for the first time in what seemed like an eternity, he had no wish to die.
“Your husband is truly blessed to have such a fine family,” he murmured. “I understand why you hesitated to tell me about her,” he added, indicating the baby with a glance. “You have nothing to worry about. I promise I’ll make no claims. Just knowing she’s here, that there’s a part of me alive outside myself…it’s enough.”
Tears had started in Livie’s eyes again. She reached out and drew him close and they sat together, their child cradled between them. “I wasn’t going to tell you,” Livie whispered, “but then you asked for my help, and I saw how much pain you were in. I knew the only thing that could save you was your daughter.” She laid a hand against Magnes’ stubble-roughened cheek. He turned his face to kiss her palm.
“Thank you,” he said.
“Ma.” Sarian tugged at Livie’s sleeve.
“What is it, sweetheart?” She dabbed her eyes and turned to look at the boy.
“May I have some honey cake?”
Magnes noticed a few telltale crumbs sticking to the child’s mouth. “Looks like you’ve already helped yourself, young man,” he observed, then laughed at the boy’s sheepish expression. It felt good to laugh, after so many bleak, despair-filled weeks.
Livie smiled. “Yes, my love, you may have a little more honey cake.”
“Doooown!” Rose squawked and struggled to get out of Magnes’ arms. He obligingly lowered her to the floor and she toddled off after her big brother.
“I should be getting back to Amsara,” Magnes said. He didn’t relish the all-night ride, but knew he couldn’t stay.
Livie nodded in agreement.
Magnes pulled open the cottage door and stepped into warm night. Crickets shrilled in the trees. The big black dog, who had been asleep against the side of the house, woke up with a whuff and climbed ponderously to his feet. He ambled over to sniff Magnes’ boots. Magnes reached down and scratched behind the dog’s floppy ears, receiving a satisfied grunt in reply.
“I know I wasn’t very welcoming earlier,” Livie began softly, “but it was a shock, seeing you at my gate after…”
“You don’t have to explain. I understand.”
“It really is good to see you.”
Magnes held out his hands and Livie took them without hesitation.
“My sister is an excellent commander. She’ll look out for her levies as best she can. Hopefully, this war will be over soon and Jonus will return to you, safe and whole,” he said.
“Magnes…” Livie’s voice faltered and she hung her head. The darkness hid her tears, but he could taste them on her cheek as he kissed her.
“Thank you for my daughter and my life,” he whispered. He turned and crossed the yard with quick steps.
Livie followed and stood beside the gate as he mounted Storm. “Take care of yourself,” she said. “Try to find some happiness.”
“I’ll try. I mean, I will,” he replied. He turned Storm’s head and urged him forward. The big horse snorted and stepped out smartly, eager to move after standing still for so long. Magnes turned once to look back, but if Livie still watched, the shadows hid her from his sight.
He had wanted to say so much more to her, but mere words could never convey what filled his heart. He fervently hoped she understood just what she had done for him.
I have a daughter and her name is Rose!
He wanted to shout that name from the highest mountaintop.
The moon rode at the top of the tree line, a silver half-disk, shedding just enough light to see by. Storm loped easily along the well-worn path, sure-footed in the dimness. With each hoof beat, Magnes felt a bit more of his depression crack and fall away. His soul had been imprisoned for so long, this new-found joy felt odd and a little frightening. He knew now that the peace he thought he had found while living with the Eskleipans had been nothing more than numbness. The pain had always been there, festering just beneath the surface. His homecoming had merely hastened its inevitable release.
Livie had given him the most precious of gifts-a reason to live. Even knowing his child would be raised by another man did not diminish his gratitude.
Our love made that baby , he thought. A love that’s changed, true enough, but it’s still there. Someday, when the time is right, Livie will tell Rose about me.
Shortly after sunrise, Magnes retired to his bed and for the first time in many weeks, he fell asleep without the aid of drink. He dreamed he danced with a merry little dark-haired girl, and the next morning, he awoke with a smile on his lips.
Ashinji dreamed he stood within the hollow heart of a mountain. Sharp spires of rock, some thrusting from the floor, others hanging like swords from the ceiling, hemmed him from all sides. Though total darkness should reign here, a ruddy glow bathed the stones in hues of blood.
How and why he had come to this place, he could not guess. He took a step forward…
… and stumbled across a body lying on the uneven floor. Cautiously, he bent over the prone figure, but a shadow obscured its features.
A voice whispered in his ear. “You must do this, Ashi. There is no other way.”
Ashinji started and spun toward the sound.
Gran stepped from behind a pillar, a wickedly curved blade in her hand.
“ Gran! What are you doing here?”
“ You know what has to be done,” the old mage replied, holding out the knife as if she expected him to take it.
“ I don’t understand, Gran. Please…” Ashinji begged, but his plea died on his lips as a second figure emerged from the darkness.
“ Son, take the blade and strike before it is too late! The Nameless One approaches!” Amara pointed to the body lying on the floor.
“ You must release the Key now!”
That voice belonged to regal, auburn-haired Princess Taya, who had materialized by his side. An enormous ruby glowed like a baleful red eye at her breast.
Confusion and fear muddled Ashinji’s thoughts as a fourth mage joined the circle, a woman of sinister beauty crowned with a mane of flame-red hair. She crouched beside the body at his feet. Tiny red sparks flared within the jade depths of her eyes.
Every instinct within Ashinji cried out in warning. “Sonoe! No, you stay away!”
“ I can’t. Her fate is sealed. This is the only way.” Sonoe’s pale hand caressed the unseen face.
“ She will not suffer, Son,” Amara promised. “Better that it be done by someone she loves.”
Ashinji’s fingers curved around cold steel. Somehow, the knife had found its way into his hand.
“ Do it now! It is almost too late!” Gran urged.
Ashinji stared in mounting horror at the circle of faces surrounding him.
The shadows drew back to reveal the identity of the sacrifice.
He screamed in horror…
…and bolted upright in bed, choking.
When the spasms had subsided and he could breathe again, Ashinji collapsed back onto the bed, shaking like a man in the grip of a fever. Never before had he experienced a vision so powerful, so absolute in its feeling of inescapability.
No! I can’t let this happen!
He crawled from the tangle of bedclothes and sat, naked and shivering, by the window of his chamber until the residue of the vision had dissipated. The fading stars heralded the coming dawn; returning to bed now would be pointless.
Besides, the sooner I get dressed and ready, the sooner Gran and I can leave for Sendai, and the sooner I’ll be reunited with…
“Jelena,” he whispered. The mere sound of her name evoked the feel of her skin, the taste of her lips.
He went to fetch his clothes.
“There’s a lot about this ritual you haven’t told me, Gran,” Ashinji accused, his voice tight with anger. “I want the truth. All of it.”
Gran sighed. “Ashi, I withheld certain aspects of the Ritual of Sundering from you because I didn’t want to burden you with that knowledge too soon.”
“So you thought you’d just spring it on me when the time came, is that it?” Ashinji’s voice rose to a near shout. “I’m supposed to kill my own wife! If you think I’ll meekly go along with any of this, you are mistaken!”
A light breakfast had been set out for them in the main sitting room of the Sakehera family quarters. Gran sat on Lady Amara’s favorite couch, an untouched sweet bun in her hand, while Ashinji paced in a tight circle, body rigid with fury.
“Listen to me,” Gran commanded. Ashinji stopped pacing but kept her at his back. “I still believe we can save Jelena, but it will take all of our collective skill as high mages to do so,” Gran explained.
Ashinji rounded on her, white-knuckled. “That’s supposed to make me feel better?” he spat. “You expect me to plunge a knife into my wife’s heart. Her blood will be on my hands. Can you give me any assurance that you and my mother and whoever else belongs to this…this Kirian Society, can resurrect her?”
“No,” Gran replied, shaking her head. “We tread where none of us has gone before. The forces we will be dealing with, the enemy we face…no mage of our generation has ever been tested thus. What I can tell you is this; only through Jelena’s death can we stop the Nameless One.”
“No! I won’t accept that!” Ashinji collapsed into a chair and buried his face in his hands.
“I am so very sorry, Ashi, but none of us has any choice,” Gran murmured. “If the Nameless One prevails, he will bring unspeakable horror and desolation to this world, and all living things will become his slaves, reduced to hideous, twisted imitations of what they once were. Your mother and I, along with our fellow Kirians, have sworn an oath. We are prepared to do whatever it takes to defeat this enemy.” Gran emphasized the last words as if to impress upon him the strength of her resolve.
“But why must it be me?” Ashinji looked at the elderly mage with tear-filled eyes. “Why must I strike the blow?”
“The Society is at its lowest ebb in all of our recorded history, for reasons we only partly understand,” Gran explained. “To perform a Working of this magnitude, there should be at least twelve trained mages in the circle. When I left Alasiri, only eight active members of the Society remained, three of whom were much older than I am now. I don’t know how many are left, but at the most, it’s probably five, counting myself. Five is simply not enough.” She paused to let the effect of her words take hold. “You have prodigious Talent, Ashi,” she continued. “We need your strength added to ours if we are to succeed. Even though you are untrained, we can direct you. You will act as both an amplifier and a conduit for our magic.”
“I still don’t understand why I have to strike the blow,” he persisted.
“If Jelena knows it is you who will wield the knife, she is less likely to be afraid,” Gran replied. “If she dies without fear, the Sundering will go much more smoothly, thereby improving our chances of success.”
“And what about bringing her back? If she dies quickly, will it be easier to restore her to life?” Ashinji stared hard into Gran’s pale eyes, searching desperately for any shred of hope.
“I give you my word. If it’s within our power to do so, we will restore Jelena to life.”
If it’s within our power…
Ashinji stood and drifted over to a window overlooking a courtyard garden. He leaned against the wall, arms folded, looking down. He had first told Jelena he loved her in that very garden, only to have her run away from him in tears. He had buried the lock of Seijon’s hair there, as well, fulfilling his promise to the boy, if only in a symbolic way, to bring him to Alasiri.
Regret tasted so very bitter.
“Does Jelena understand what is to happen?” he asked.
“I don’t know,” Gran replied. “In truth, it may be better if she doesn’t, at least not until it’s time.”
“If you can’t bring her back, then you may as well kill me too,” he said in a low voice.
Gran stood behind him now. “You’ve become very dear to me, Ashi.” She laid a hand on his forearm. He turned to face her; the tears upon her cheeks surprised him. “I wish there was some other way to accomplish what we must, but there isn’t. I know how much you love your Jelena, and I understand how death might seem preferable to going on without her. I was responsible for the deaths of my entire family, so believe me, I understand . But remember. You have a child now, and your child will need a father. Hold that thought close to your heart. Let it keep you strong.”
“When the time comes, I just don’t know if I’ll be able to go through with it,” Ashinji whispered.
“I have complete faith in you, dear one,” Gran replied. “You will not fail us.”
Ashinji glanced out the window one last time. “It’s getting late. Time we were leaving.”
Two days after they rode into Kerala Castle, Ashinji and Gran prepared to ride out again, this time mounted on swift Kerala-bred horses.
The morning of their departure, Gendan and Iruka, Kerala’s seneschal, met them at the main gates. Kami came with her husband and she brought along their son.
“I don’t know when my parents or my brother will return,” Ashinji said, bouncing the little boy in his arms. “You will have to continue to run things as best you can. Kerala is in a perilous position, lying so close to the Soldaran border. You may have to flee at a moment’s notice.”
“We’ll do whatever we have to, my lord,” Gendan answered. He reached out to caress his son’s wheaten head. “Don’t forget the troops that fought at the Saihama fords last fall are still billeted here.”
“Thessalina Preseren has no doubt taken her forces west to Tono to join the main Imperial Army,” Ashinji said. “I’m still worried, though. The Soldarans could still decide to march a division east to attack through Kerala as well.”
“You can rest assured we won’t allow Kerala to be taken by the humans, not while there’s one of us left standing and hale enough to hold a weapon,” Gendan vowed.
“My main concern is for the safety of Kerala’s folk,” Ashinji responded. “Protect them first, Gendan, even if it means abandoning Kerala to the Soldarans. If the worst happens, we have to survive as a people if we’re to win back our land some day.” He gently kissed the child’s cheek and returned him to his mother.
A small crowd of castle folk turned out to see them off. Many wept, some coming forward to clutch at Ashinji’s hand so they might press it to their foreheads in obeisance. He realized they were afraid, yet Ashinji could see their collective resolve in their faces. He knew that if they had to, his people would master their fear to defend themselves.
He and Gran climbed aboard their mounts then rode through the gates, Gendan, Kami, and Iruka keeping pace beside them.
At the far side of the bridge linking the castle to the mainland, Ashinji drew rein and turned to look back at the whitewashed walls of his birthplace. He wondered if he would ever see it again.
Gendan, his young son in his arms, Kami by his side, and Iruka stood in the shade beneath the guardhouse, watching. Ashinji raised a hand in farewell and Gendan raised his in salute. High overhead, a pair of hawks soared in the early summer sky, black shapes against azure. Their mating screams drifted on the warm air; the sound struck a melancholy chord in Ashinji’s heart.
When this summer is over and the hawks’ chicks have fledged, will my home still stand, or will it lie in ruins?
He sighed and pointed his horse’s head west toward Sendai.
“Did you reach her? Did you speak to my mother?” Ashinji burned with impatience.
Gran’s eyes fluttered open and she took a deep breath before answering. “Yes, Ashi, and I’m quite surprised I was able to. At such a distance, mindspeech without an amplifier is very difficult. We are still at least a week’s ride from Sendai, after all.”
After pushing their mounts hard for most of the day, the two travelers had stopped for the night at a small manor house set atop a low hill, surrounded by tidy parklands. The manor had been left in the care of its steward; the lord and his adult children had ridden south with the main army while the lady had fled north with her little ones. When Ashinji and Gran had arrived and introduced themselves, the steward willingly extended the hospitality of the manor in the name of his absent master. After serving them a meal of poached fish and salad in the sitting room, the steward had left them to themselves.
“Naturally, your mother was shocked to hear from me after so many years.” Gran relaxed into the comfortable embrace of the yellow silk-upholstered couch that served as the centerpiece of the room. “I couldn’t hold the link for very long,” she continued, “but I did manage to tell her I was on my way to Sendai and that you were with me.”
“Now that she knows I’m alive…she’ll…she’ll tell Jelena…” Ashinji’s voice trailed off as he swallowed a sudden spate of tears.
I should be delirious with joy , he thought. My wife knows I’m not dead!
And yet…
“I’m sorry for your pain, my son,” Gran murmured.
Weariness bent his shoulders and dragged at his eyelids. “I’m going to bed,” he announced. He departed the sitting room, leaving Gran alone with her thoughts.
“Captain Sakehera! You sure look good for a dead man,” the city guardsman observed.
“I’ve heard that a lot, lately.” Ashinji and Gran had just been admitted into the city through the smallest of its four gates and now found themselves surrounded by a clutch of curious guards. Ashinji’s gelding snorted, prancing in place, tail lashing. He patted the animal’s neck to calm it, but his own anxiety only fueled its fractiousness.
“A lot’s happened since you’ve been gone, sir,” the guard said. “The army’s already marched south.”
“I expected as much.” Near desperate to ride on toward the castle, Ashinji had to force himself not to scream for the guards to get out of his way. “Please. I need to go to my wife now.”
“The king’s deathly ill, Captain.” The other guards nodded in somber confirmation. “We hear it’s the plague. The princess has hardly left his side for days.”
“Ai, Goddess,” Gran sighed. “This is a catastrophe.”
“We must go now. Please let us through!” Fear turned Ashinji’s request into a harsh command. The guards melted aside. Ashinji drummed his heels against his horse’s flanks and the gelding broke into a ground-eating lope. With Gran’s mount close behind, the horse pounded up the avenue toward Sendai Castle.
An eerie stillness reigned over a city that had once bustled with sound and motion. Only the clatter of hoofbeats broke the quiet. Shop fronts turned blank, shuttered faces to the street; the few people abroad in the lanes and alleys scurried like scared rabbits seeking sanctuary. All of Sendai had battened down, as if awaiting the arrival of a massive storm.
At the summit of the avenue, as its feet touched the sand of the parade ground, Ashinji whipped the horse into a gallop then bent low over its neck as the gelding hurtled straight for the open gates.
When the horse barreled through, scattering the guards who had come to investigate, Ashinji paid no heed to their cries. He fixed his gaze on the massive iron-banded doors, and like a thrown knife, the horse shot toward them. Gran’s mare had fallen far behind, but Ashinji remained heedless to all but his goal.
A heartbeat shy of disaster, he hauled back on the reins and the gelding slid to a stop amid a shower of gravel, tossing its head in distress. Ashinji vaulted from the saddle as the horse pirouetted away with a snort, then sprinted toward the broad, shallow steps leading up to the entrance.
Close, so close!
He called to her, with his voice and with mindspeech.
She answered…
…and he saw her running toward him, arms outstretched, crying his name.
She fell into his arms, sobbing.
His own tears mingled with hers as he covered her face and throat with kisses, whispering her name each time his lips touched her skin.
Nothing else mattered, except her.