Breaking the Gloaming (27 page)

“Welcome back, Tryst.” His voice was warm as he released me. “Ulysses told me how you led the men in the Gloaming. He told me about how you fought today. You are changed. The light found you. It can redeem you.”
 

I nodded, holding out my arms as the sun’s rays continued to shine on my skin. What he said about the light sounded true.

“If you are able, you will fight at my side tomorrow.” Andor reached out and slowly placed the sword’s hilt back in my hand. “Zarathus is yours now. It fits you better. Please, sit. You look terrible.” He smiled at me.

I sat but did not respond. I did not know what to say.
 

“Good, rest now,” Andor said. “Tonight you will join my council to discuss our plan.” He paused, glancing at the men to his sides. “I believe in you, but some are concerned about you. The nobles may see your return as a threat. Their memories of you are not fond. What would you have us say as assurance of your loyalty to me?”

I laid the sword down on the cot. Words began to flow out of me. “Tell them I could have killed you, but I did not. Tell them I could have killed Ulysses and Jon, but I did not. Tell them I could have died, but I did not. Tell them death parts around me like water, but I will throw myself into death’s way for the prince of Valemidas and for my son’s future. I no longer care about power, praise, and riches. I want only a good death.”

The men and my sisters were staring at me. Some of their mouths were agape. I saw wonder, terror, and compassion in their faces. Andor looked like he understood. We shared much—the throne, the suffering. He reached out and pressed gently on my shoulder, urging me to lie down on the cot.

“Rest now,” he said. “You will meet your son. Maybe we will go down in battle together.”

He left with the men following him. I insisted upon seeing my son, and my sisters led me out to meet him. Lorien talked of happy things while we walked. My head was spinning, and not just from the wine.

We came to Jon’s quarters. This was where my father had once lived. The rooms had an orderly, loving aura. Jon was standing close by Mailyn. Maybe that’s what he had been hiding. It made sense. They were a good pair.
 

Some of Mailyn’s spunk had grown into mature beauty in motherhood. Seeing her did not affect me as it once had.
 

The baby was asleep in her arms. Lorien guided me to them.
 

Mailyn smiled. “Your son,” she said. “We named him after you.”

“Trystan,” I replied, gazing down at him.

He stirred. His eyes opened for a moment. They were bright blue, like mine. I ran my hand along his round head of dark hair. It was so soft, softer than anything I could remember.
 

“You and Jon will raise him well?” I asked Mailyn.

“We will,” she said. “Trystan will grow up beside Lorien and Andor’s baby. They will become close friends.”

“Protect them, love them well,” I said.
And guard against ambition and envy
, I thought. It was hard to imagine this tiny, innocent boy growing to do the things I had done. Maybe my father had once thought something like that.

The room was quiet. Trystan had fallen back to sleep.

Ravien was holding my arm. Her eyes were a refuge.

“The prince has asked that I rest now,” I said. “I will obey him.”
 

My sisters walked with me back to the archives. The light was still streaming down on my cot. I laid down in it and slept like my son.
 

*
*
*

Wren waited for Ravien.

It was growing dark outside and inside. Lorien had escorted him here, leaving him alone in an empty guest room high in the palace. She had told him what happened. All of it. Her words made the pains of his battle wounds feel like nothing.

After his thoughts had spiraled down, then up, then down again, Ravien walked through the open door. The latch clicked loudly as she closed it behind her.

“You look bad,” she said. They stood on opposite sides of the room. “You heard what happened?”

Wren nodded. “Lorien told me.”

“It was not supposed to end like that.” She looked at her feet, at the walls, at anything but Wren.

He stepped closer to her. “Ravien,” he said, “look at me.”

She did. Her face was ashen and scared. Wren had never seen her like that.
 

He moved to her and put his hand on her cheek. “You are more beautiful than ever,” he said. “No one can take you from me.”

She opened her mouth to say something. He put his finger against her lips and spoke again.

“No matter what. It cannot be changed. You are mine, and I am yours.”

He pulled her into his arms and held tight, like he would never let go. Her shoulders began to shake with silent sobs. They stood there a long time before Ravien lifted her head from his chest. 

Her moist eyes looked into his. “I thought you would hate me.”

“Impossible.” Wren smiled. “How could I hate something that has become a part of me? How does a stem feel about the orchid that grows from it?”

She wiped the tears from her face. “Plants don’t have feelings, Wren.”

“I once thought the same thing about you, until the night you lured me to a rooftop and kissed me.”

Ravien breathed out a hint of amusement. “You were the one who kissed me. I was the one who bit your lip.”

“You drew blood,” Wren accused, “and you have carried a piece of me ever since.”

“One taste of you was enough.” Ravien leaned her forehead against Wren’s and closed her eyes. “So you will forgive me?” she asked.

“There is nothing to forgive,” he answered, putting his arms around her again. “There is only pain for us to overcome together. If we survived Sunan, we will survive this.”

“Thank you.” She opened her eyes. They were as dark and clear as a cloudless night.

“A stem,” Wren said, “lives only to see its orchid’s beauty.”

“And an orchid does not live without its stem.” Ravien held his gaze. “I will not leave you again.”

Wren smiled. “You think I would let you?”

Ravien laughed as she clung to him, then she wept again.

Chapter 28

OPPORTUNITY IN A STALEMATE

“All human actions have one or more

of these seven causes:
 

chance, nature, compulsions,
 

habit, reason, passion, desire.”
 

The gloaming had passed. The night had come. Father Yates went to the meeting knowing the cost might be his life. He climbed the long stairs to the palace and was breathing heavily by the time he arrived. He was the last to take his seat in the throne room.
 

Sebastian greeted him with the stare of a serial killer. Andor and the others were friendlier. Yates smiled as he surveyed the group, trusting this would work out for the good. He had every reason to feel uncertain and afraid for his people’s fate, but instead he felt peace.

No one sat on the throne. The twelve of them, including Andor, sat in identical chairs arranged in an open circle in the center. The chairs were stiff wood with straight backs. The fires roaring in the hearths did little to dispel the chill. A few of the other men were bandaged up. Wren looked the worst, followed by Tryst and Ulysses. Yates wore no bandages, but his old body ached. If Andor’s goal was to keep anyone from comfort at this meeting, he had succeeded.

“I have gathered you all for counsel.” Andor broke the silence. “Some of you have opposed each other in the past, but we must come together now. I want to end the killing. We lost several hundred men today. I have a proposal for a peaceful end, the only end I have wanted. Let me explain in full. Then we will discuss.”
 

Yates glanced around the group. All eyes were on the prince. They were tired eyes, questioning and curious. Only Lorien looked like she knew what was coming.
 

“This was a good day for Valemidas,” the prince continued. “We struck hard and fast this morning, catching the Sunans off guard, killing thousands, and delaying their assault. I might have hoped, but I never imagined, that Tryst would join us like this.” Andor looked toward Tryst, who nodded calmly. Yates took delight in their apparent bond.

The prince turned to his chief spy, and then to his adoptive father. “Sebastian and Justus will face some punishment for hiding their plot from me, but I am thankful it has worked to our advantage. It would have been a disaster if Ravien had not come to me when she did, and if Jon and Pikeli had not led our knights so well. Jon and Wren, I am glad to see you together again.”
 

Andor looked away from the brothers, his eyes bouncing around the group until they settled on Lorien.
 

“As well as the day started,” he said, “it finished poorly. The Sunans have already battered down our gate, and while our men are rebuilding it tonight, it will not hold long. There are too many Sunans. They briefly captured the south wall in places. We lost dozens of archers.” Andor’s gaze shifted to Sir Ryn Talnor. “The Talnor estate nearly burned. Our city will not survive many more days of this.”

Others nodded agreement, including Yates. He knew little enough of war tactics, but it was clear the Sunans had greater numbers. 

“My plan,” Andor continued, “is to offer a duel to finish and decide this war.” His words drew some gasps. “A group of us would face the Sunan boy-king and his best men. I would send a messenger to them tonight. We would meet in the open field at daybreak tomorrow. I would fight him alone, but I think he would deny that, knowing he would stand no chance. We could offer a fight of five on five. I might even take six of us against seven of them.”

Andor had risen to his feet. He was speaking with the kind of force only he could summon. There was a spell to his words.

“Whichever side wins,” he said, “would gain dominion over the other. Each leader would appoint a steward to execute the agreement after the duel, to hand over power. I would appoint Father Yates. The boy-king would appoint one of his priests. It must be someone who could prevail upon the people to accept the outcome, for whoever wins will have complete authority to reign as long as he lets the losing side’s people live.” 

Andor was quiet for a moment, studying their reactions. “Now, think carefully on my words,” he said. “I would hear your views.”

“My prince,” Sebastian spoke the instant Andor stopped. “This is a very bad idea. Valemidas still has walls on its side, and there is enough food to survive the winter. The Sunan people cannot handle this cold for long. Wait them out, fight and defend, that is the better course. Besides, if you have this duel, what makes you think you can trust the Sunans?”

“What makes us think we can trust you?” Pikeli bounced to his feet. “I would put our best against Sunan’s best. We would win that fight!”

“Sit,” Andor commanded. “You all stay seated, and we stay united.” The young knight sat down, his face flushed.

“I recognize there are reasons for mistrust in this room and with the Sunans.” Justus looked around the group. His normally solid voice quivered. “But Sebastian is right. He, Ravien, and I planned this explosion long ago, in hopes that we would trap the Sunans in the river and unleash a deadly attack. I am sorry I kept this hidden, my prince, but I did it for your good. Our plan succeeded only because of its secrecy. Sebastian did his part. He proved his loyalty. Still, despite the plan’s success, I agree the Sunan force remains too strong. They cannot flee with their fleet in tatters and the mouth of the river blocked, and what they accomplished today will only encourage them more.”

“That may be true,” Andor said, “but do any of you think we could find victory without great human losses any way other than a duel?” His question was met with silence, and a few people around the circle shook their heads no.
 

“The question we should be asking,” Ulysses said, “is why would the Sunans accept this offer?” The knight was the only one of them close to Yates’s age. His gritty voice demanded respect. “I fought in their midst this morning. Their warriors fight like it is their only purpose in life. They battle with shields locked, spears thrusting, and an almost joyful determination in their faces. Why would they give that up? Why would their leaders relent after breaking down a gate on the very first day of the siege? If I led the Sunans, I would order them to double their efforts tomorrow.” He pounded his fists against his knees. “I would order them to breach our walls, to slaughter our men, and to gut our city of its failing might.” The knight’s voice had risen to a battle cry.
 

“His Excellency,” Ravien said and paused, like a woman poking a finger into a bath to test its temperature. “Their young king, he would take an offer of a duel.” She remained almost motionless as she spoke. “Pride drives him to force his will in the face of resistance, and pride would drive him to accept a chance to redeem himself against you, Andor. Their priest, Malam, would ensure this.”
 

Wren took her hand in his. He was pale, with bandages on his head, right shoulder, and legs. “Ravien is right,” Wren said. “She knows this young king, and we have to trust her. I have seen enough among the Sunans to believe they would accept Andor’s offer. Whatever their king commands, they obey. He is their god. They believe they have a divine right to these lands, to all lands. Malam teaches them it is justice, because we tried to conquer them generations ago. We must pay for our sins.”

Yates sensed the momentum shifting in Andor’s favor. “They will also accept because of who you are,” Yates said. He stood and looked to Andor. “Pardon my standing, but please indulge an old man.”
 

The prince nodded. It was true the old priest needed to stretch, but these words needed particular attention. He spared a glance at Sebastian. The spy was shaking his head, his fists were clenched, and he looked ready to explode. Yates smiled.

“Twenty or so years ago,” he began, “a different family held the Sunan throne. It was the family descended from our former prince, Aden, the man who led Valemidans to try to conquer their land. You all know the history. Aden failed and gave up his only son, an exceptional young boy. The son won favor among the Sunans as he grew up in their court. He married the daughter of their ruler. His heirs ruled Sunan in peace for many years, sending a vessel to us every year as assurance that the peace would continue.