Children of Prophecy (29 page)

“So there is nothing for the rest of us to do?” Kelt’ahrn asked.

Tal shook his head. “Far from it, my liege,” he told him. “Drago Pass is merely the only pass the Swarm can pass through in
strength
, not the only pass. To have the largest force possible at Drago Pass, we’re stripping the other passes of Battlemagi. The Magi and Rangers we’re leaving behind will need support, and the Kingsmen are the best support we can provide.”

“What about the Life Magi?” the Lady of Life demanded. “Are we to be merely helpless in this?”

Tal looked at the woman. “It falls to you and the other Life Magi,” he told her, “to be what you always have been: the custodians of the people. The preservers of what we leave behind. In your hands I place the Kingdom of Vishni, to keep it alive while it is kept safe.”

The Lady nodded, but did not appear appeased. “And when are you planning to leave, Lord Tal’raen?” she demanded.

Tal glanced over to Shel’nart, who shrugged. “Roughly two days will be the earliest we can hope to leave, milord,” the Battle Lord admitted.

“Very well, two days it is,” Tal said. “By that point, my liege,” he said to Kelt’ahrn, “I hope that the Kingsmen contingents will already have been deployed.”

“I will have to speak with my generals,” Kelt’ahrn replied, “but I believe we can do that. The Kingsmen are mostly concentrated here and near the passes.”

“Good,” Tal said calmly, then glanced around. “Does anyone have any more concerns?”

No-one said anything. Part of that, Tal knew, was because even the Council was still slightly in awe of the man who’d risen to the highest authority and power in the Kingdom – and done so overnight.

“Very well,” he told them, “we are adjourned.”

Kelt’ahrn stood. He took up the gavel of the High King, and hit it against the table once. “This meeting of the High Council of the Kingdom of Vishni is adjourned,” he said formally, “by the will of the Hawk Lord.”

As the various members of the Council stood, Tal made a gesture to Kelt’ahrn to wait. “My liege,” he said softly, “I would like to discuss something with you.”

Kelt turned to look at him. “Something to do with the Kingsmen?” he asked.

Tal shook his head. “No… something personal,” he admitted. “Walk with me, my liege.”

The King looked hesitant, but followed.

Just outside the hall, they found Brea waiting for them at she and Tal had agreed earlier. Tal walked over to her and took her hand, smiling at her as he did. She stepped closer to him, then they turned to face her father.

Kelt’ahrn looked at them, thunderstruck. “I think I already know what you’re going to ask,” he said softly.

Tal smiled slightly. “Most likely,” he admitted. He paused for a moment, then continued more formally, “My lord, I wish to ask for the hand of your daughter Brea’ahrn in marriage.”

Kelt looked to Brea’ahrn. “Given what happened last time I tried to marry you off,” he told her softly, “I’m going to ask if you consent to this, no matter how bloody obvious it is.” His gesture took in the two youths’ joined hands.

Brea nodded. “I consent,” she said softly.

Kelt turned back to Tal. Tal smiled at his King. “In that case, Tal’raen, I see no reason to object,” the High King said quietly. “Besides, I believe it was already demonstrated what my opinions are worth in this matter.”

Tal felt Brea bow her head slightly. “I would seek your true approval in this, father,” she told him.

Kelt’ahrn, High King of Vishni, looked at the two young lovers. Tal watched his king’s face for a moment, then relaxed as Kelt’s face softened. “I will not deny you, my daughter,” he told her, his voice very gently. “Tal’raen is a worthy man. You have my approval.”

“Thank you, my king,” Tal’raen said softly.

“If you hurt her, Tal’raen…” Kelt’s voice trailed off warningly.

“I would die first,” Tal replied.

“Then I suggest we arrange the betrothal quickly. You are, after all, leaving soon.”

Brea paced back and forth, waiting to be called out for the ceremony. The light blue curtain blocking the door blocked the noise from the hall beyond as well. She walked up to it, glared at it for a moment, then walked away again, her white over green formal robes swirling around her.

“Calm down, dear,” Tris’dael said serenely from where she stood, resplendent in bright royal blue. “It’s not like Tal is going to run away. He’s very much in love with you.”

Brea paced the length of the small hallway again. “That’s not the problem, mother,” she said.

“I know, Brea,” the High Queen replied. “Relax. It’s not like they can start without you either.”

Just as the Queen finished speaking, the curtains opened before them. “See, dear?” she said firmly. “Everything will be fine.”

Brea took a deep breath, then stepped forward with her mother.

“The High Queen Tris’dael and her daughter, the Princess Wolf Adept Brea’ahrn,” the herald announced.

A moment later, another herald announced, “The Black Lord Tal’raen.” With Tal’s first parents long-lost and unknown, he had no mother to present him to his betrothal – and with Car’raen dead, he had no father to present him to his marriage, when that came to pass.

That’s a worry for another day
, Brea thought as her eyes sought Tal’raen across the crowded hall. She saw him, dressed in his formal black robes, just as he saw her. He inclined his head to her, and she returned the gesture. Then they began to cross the Hall to where the High Priest of Lilitha Andrela, the Lady of Life, waited for them.

Tal and Brea reached the podium almost simultaneously. Brea reached instinctively for his hand. The High Priest made a scolding sound in his throat, and Brea jerked her hand back, flushing as she realized what she’d done.

The kindly old man smiled at the two youths. “Have some patience, my children,” he murmured. Then, more loudly, he spoke to the assembled people: “We are gathered here today to see these two commit themselves to an oath not easily broken. They shall be handfast unto each other for one year and one day, and if the Gods favor them, in one year and one day we shall see them stand before us as man and wife.”

The crowd slowly quieted as the ceremony continued. “Normally, there would be a speech here, about the responsibilities of both handfasting and marriage,” the priest said softly, “but I think both of these young people have learned their responsibilities. They have chosen this, and they have chosen well. Therefore, we shall cut to the chase.”

He turned to Tal. “Tal’raen, do you swear that you shall honor the handfasting?” he asked formally. “Do you swear that your word and honor will be bound to your lady’s for a year? And do you swear that whether you choose to marry or to leave, that you will make the truest choice of your own heart?”

Tal nodded sharply. “I do so swear,” he affirmed.

The High Priest turned to Brea. “Brea’ahrn, do you swear that you shall honor the handfasting?” he asked her in turn. “Do you swear that your word and honor will be bound to your lord’s for a year? And do you swear that whether you choose to marry or to leave, that you will make the trust choice of your own heart?”

“I do so swear,” Brea said softly.

The High Priest smiled. “
Now
, you can take his hand,” he said gently.

Brea did just that, reaching out taking Tal’s hand. The Priest stepped forward and tied a cord, made of interlaced black and white fabrics, around their wrists. Then he raised them to the air. “What these two have joined together, let it be only split asunder by fate or the Gods themselves,” he thundered to the assembled crowd.

She saw the Priest nod to her and Tal and looked at Tal. He nodded to her, and they both pulled together. The cord was tied just tight enough that it took the combined strength of both of them to break free of it.

As soon as the cord was off their wrists, Brea found herself swept into Tal’s arms. She held the embrace for a moment, then pulled back just enough to kiss him on the lips. A moment later, they separated, to vigorous applause from the crowd.

Tal watched Brea cross the courtyard of the Hawk Manse towards him. He smiled at her, and she returned the smile. Beyond the gates of the Manse, he could hear the commotion as the Battlemagi gathered. Shej’mahi had insisted he speak with them before they left, and Tal’raen agreed with the old General’s advice.

“Is it time?” Brea asked as she reached him.

He nodded. “It’s time,” he affirmed. “We cannot afford to delay any longer.”

“Promise me you’ll come back,” she asked.

Tal looked at her, and said nothing. There was really nothing to say. He tried anyway. “I’ll try, Brea,” he told her. “I will try with all my heart. I cannot promise anything more, not even to you.”

Brea nodded silently, then kissed him. They held the embrace for a moment before she stepped away. She turned away, but he could somehow sense the tears she was hiding. “They’re waiting for you,” she told him. “It is time.”

He touched her cheek and nodded himself. “I know,” he admitted. “I have to go.”

“May the Gods watch over you,” she said.

“They will. I love you, Brea’ahrn,” he said, his heart in his throat.

“And I you,” she replied. “Now go.”

He smiled and bowed. “As my lady commands.”

With that, he turned and walked across the courtyard, never looking back.

They were waiting outside the gates. Every single Battlemage the immense authority of the Hawk Lord Reborn could summon. They had arrayed themselves in silent ranks, waiting for the man who would lead them into battle – a man all too few of them actually knew.

Tal faced them. Standing at the front of the lines was Shej’mahi, who bowed slightly. “The Vishnean Battlemagi await your command, Black Lord,” he said aloud.

“Thank you, Battle Lord,” Tal replied. He reached out with his magic and touched Air, enhancing his voice so they all could hear him.

“Battlemagi of Vishni,” he said softly, trusting the magic to carry his words to all of them. “You know why we are gathered here.

“A threat has risen, the likes of which we have not seen for a thousand years,” he told them. “A single man now dominates the Swarm, and has bent them all to his will. Some of you have read the histories of when even
parts
of the Swarm have come against us; read of the destruction and horror.

“We will not let that come to pass,” Tal thundered, his voice suddenly firm. “It has always been our place to stand between our people and the Swarm. We stood against the Four when they raised the Swarm from nothing. We stood against the Drake Lord when he raised the Swarm against us. We stood against incursion after incursion for the last thousand years.

“So we will stand now. A prophecy is coming to pass in our time, and we will not be found wanting. For when we stand, the entire Kingdom of Vishni will be behind us – and before us will be the enemy.

“The last thousand years have been nothing more than training and preparing for
this
moment,” Tal reminded them. For the time when the prophecy will come to pass and the Children of the Twain shall meet. I am the Black Lord, and I am sworn to die before I let the Swarm through. Who marches with me?”

A massive cry came from the crowd. When it died down, Shej’mahi stepped forward and clasped forearms with Tal as he spoke. “The Battlemagi march with you,” he confirmed. “We will not fail in the trust you and your ancestor gave us.”

Tal raised his arm, and Shej’mahi’s with it. “By our oaths and our blood, Vishni will be free!”

Lo’kae’s footsteps sounded behind Stret’sar, identified by the warning net of magic Stret’sar extended around himself.

“What is it?” Stret asked.

“Our scrying confirms it,” he said quietly. “The Battlemagi have left Deoran. They will be at Drago Pass in eight days.”

“Excellent,” Stret replied. “With them concentrated in one place, they will stand alone – and we will defeat them with ease.”

Stret turned to face Lo’kae. “The future’s decisive moment approaches, Lo’kae,” he told the leader of the Four. “Everything will hinge on the next few days. If what I have seen comes to pass, we will crush the Battlemagi at the Pass. First the Battlemagi, then the undefended Kingdom behind them. Nothing will stand before us.”

“Do you wish to address the Swarm before we move?” Lo’kae asked.

Stret sighed.

“Wish? No,” he replied. “Will? Yes. Muster the Swarm, Lo’kae. Use the Servants, it’s what they’re here for. We begin to run short on time.”

The leader of the Four, until recently the de facto leader of the Swarm, bowed. “It shall be as you command.”

Less than two hours later, Stret once again faced the massed numbers of the Swarm. Over two thousand Chaos Magi of both kinds watched warily.

Stret ran his fingers over the dragon-carved head of his scepter, drawing strength from it, then began to speak, allowing Lo’kae to project his words across the plain.