Destiny: Child Of Sky (59 page)

Gently she unfastened it from the belt and put it in her pouch with Llauron's cowl.

It was Ashe's now, a legacy to the third and most cursed of all the Cymrian royal generations. She hoped it would bring him comfort. She felt nothing, not even sadness at the thought that the man who had been her lover was now his father's avenger. The first person, by right, he should seek to destroy was Llauron's failed champion, the Iliachenva'ar. She hoped that act would bring him comfort as well. It would bring it to her.

When finally a star appeared on the horizon, Rhapsody drew Daystar Clarion and pointed it skyward. Then, as in her dream, she spoke the name of the star and called its fire forth. A beam of light, brighter than a strike of lightning, seared from the sky and rolled like a white and flame-colored wave over the pyre on the top of the hill. Rhapsody stood near it, hoping in the back of her heart that the fire would take her as well, but the inferno washed over her, the blinding heat illuminating her golden hair like a beacon for miles around.

The wood burial mound exploded in flames, charring Llauron's body in seconds, and lifting his ashes into the wind, where they fluttered momentarily like black leaves before vanishing into the darkness above the fire. Rhapsody opened her mouth, but no sound came out. She swallowed furiously and forced the song up in her gullet, the melody burning her throat. The Song of Passage croaked forth, barely above a whisper. She sang until the fire burned low, all traces of wood and cloth resolved in white hot ash.

'I'm so sorry, Llauron," she whispered. Only the winter wind answered her, its reply a low moan that whipped through her hair, stinging her dry eyes.

She stood vigil until morning, silently watching the daystar fade and the eastern horizon begin to pale. Then she took a handful of ashes from the cold pyre and placed them in a sack, which she slung across the back of the gelding. She mounted and rode off into the rising sun to tell Stephen Navarne of Llauron's fate.

He waited in the smoke from the battle, the desolation evident in the morning light.

Rhapsody would come soon, he knew; the Tree was three days' ride from where Llauron had fallen, but she would be hurrying. The loyal Filidic priests scurried around the Circle, tending to the injured and clearing away the human debris from Ashe's one-man rescue of Gwynwood. The raid had come to an end with astonishing speed; by the time Ashe had arrived there was nothing that could have stopped the destruction his anger brought with him. The knowledge that many of the attackers were unwilling thralls of the demon did nothing to temper his wrath; Rhapsody's tears had driven him into a rage that was unstoppable.

He could feel his father now, moving through the earth, laughing in the wind. Is it worth it? he thought angrily, surveying the destruction and death around him. Are you finally satisfied now, Llauron? How many more hearts will have to break, how many more lives end, before your lust for power is abated?

The wind whipped around him, fluttering the edges of his cloak. Ashe sighed.

Llauron's last wish was to be one with the elements. It would now be impossible to know what, if anything, the wind was trying to say.

Are you certain there is nothing I can do for you, Rhapsody?" Rhapsody's eyes met Lord Stephen's. She saw the concern in them, but was unable even to smile in return.

'Yes,“ she said simply. "I'm fine, m'lord, thank you. Please do as you see fit with the horses. If you are able to get in touch with Anborn, he will know what to do with them." A strand of hair blew into her eyes, and she brushed it back, looking up at the blackened shell of the single standing carillon tower, where the bitter wind blew wildly through the bells that had saved Navarne during the Sorbold assault.

The duke reached out and gently took hold of her hand. He ran his thumb over the small, sword-callused palm, and was pained by the coldness in her usually warm skin, her normally firm grip flaccid and listless.

'Where will you go now?“ he asked, his eyes heavy with concern. "To the House of Remembrance,“ she said simply. "Llauron asked but two things of me—that I herald the results of his battle with Khaddyr, which I have now done, and that I tend to the Great White Tree. I sang a song of protection to the sapling, and that should have served to protect the Tree as well. I'll do it again to be sure; I would go to the Tree itself, but Gwynwood is so far away, and I need to be heading east, not west. It's the last thing I can do for him, and so I shall. Then I will return home, back to Ylorc, where I belong."

Lord Stephen nodded. "Can you stay for a few days,-visit the children?

They have been asking after you."

Rhapsody shook her head. “I don't think that's wise, m'lord," she answered. “Please do give them my love."

The skin around the blue-green eyes crinkled as the Duke of Navarne took her other hand in his. “You know, Rhapsody, we're practically family. Do you think there will ever be a time when you might address me just by my first name?"

Rhapsody considered his question as thoughtfully as she could. “No, m'lord," she said. She curtsied deeply and took her leave of his keep, walking into the billowing arms of the winter wind.

The lake of Elysian had not frozen completely. Ashe had run all the way from Kraldurge, and decided it was worth taking the boat, if only not to disturb Rhapsody's tie to the grotto. She would feel him if he used his water lore to speed him across to the island, and it might upset her. He knew she was probably in shock, undoubtedly in mourning, but how fragile she actually was he would not know until he saw her. He did not want to risk causing her any more trauma than she had already suffered.

The house was dark; not a single light burned in the window. It was as if Elysian was dead, the gardens brown with frostburn, the light in the gazebo gone. Ashe swallowed and rowed faster. Even the song that had filled the cavern was silent; the warmth from Rhapsody's inner fire utterly absent. Ashe began to panic.

The moment the boat touched the shore he vaulted free of it and ran to the house.

He opened the front door and hurried into the parlor, where his senses had felt her.

At first he didn't see her; there were no lamps lit, and the fireplace was cold. Only an infinitesimal glow existed in the room at all. As his eyes adjusted to the dark he found her, sitting on the floor in front of the hearth, staring aimlessly at the blackened bricks.

His senses rushed over her and his throat tightened as they did. She had lost weight, which she could not afford; her formerly flawless face was sunken and there were dark circles under her eyes. Her eyes disturbed him the most; they were cloudy, and, though open, seemed not to focus. She was sitting cross-legged, with her arms wrapped around her chest, her hands tucked beneath her underarms. He cursed himself for misguessing where she would go, leaving her alone for so long.

As he ran to her she looked up for a moment; then, before he could reach her, she bent her neck slightly and pushed the collar of her shirt down, moving her necklace out of the way. Ashe understood the gesture, and it broke his heart: she was making herself voluntarily vulnerable to a killing strike.

The last few paces to her he made by sliding to his knees, throwing his arms around her when he reached her. He buried his face in her neck, kissing her gently, repeatedly, trying to impart wordless consolation to her. For her part, she opened her hand; out fell Crynella's candle. She clutched herself even tighter and stiffened; he knew by her actions that she expected him to exact revenge on her, to punish her for failing Llauron. The thought turned his stomach.

She whispered something he would not have heard if his ear had not been pressed next to her face.

'Please; end it quickly."

Ashe seized her arms and turned her to face him, his eyes taking in the ravages of sorrow on her face. He gave her a gentle shake, and as her eyes focused for a moment, he looked into them with all the depth he could muster.

'Aria; hear me. This wasn't your fault. You've done nothing wrong. Please, Rhapsody; don't let any part of you die because of this. Please."

She looked at the ground, saying nothing. Ashe took her into his arms and cradled her, trying to make her come around. Finally she spoke softly.

'I'm sorry,“ she whispered. "Ashe, I'm so sorry. I couldn't stop it; I couldn't save him. He wouldn't let me." The agony in her voice brought bile to his throat and tears to the corners of his eyes.

'I know; I know," he said, caressing her tangled hair.

'I tried to talk him out of it, but I couldn't.“ Her face grew pale in the memory, and she began to babble. "It was my job to protect him; that's what the Iliachenva'ar does. I've dishonored myself, I've dishonored the sword and the office. I'm sorry."

'No. No, that's not true, Rhapsody."

'I should have taken Khaddyr down before they even started; I could have killed him easily, the demonic bastard. He's a thrall of the Fdor, or the demon itself, Ashe; it was my job, and I didn't do it. I've brought disgrace on myself, on Oelendra, gods, on Daystar Clarion itself. I knew I wasn't worthy but they wouldn't listen to me, she wouldn't listen.“ She began to tremble in his arms. "I couldn't save your father, Ashe; I'm so sorry."

Ashe couldn't stand it anymore. “You weren't meant to, Rhapsody." She didn't seem to hear him. He took her face in his hands and looked into her eyes, green-gray and lightless. “Did you hear me? I said you weren't meant to save him. It was a hoax; Llauron is not dead; you were used. I'm sorry, I wish I could tell you in a more gentle way, but you're frightening me. I can't let you go on believing that you were responsible for any of this. And that you could even believe that I would take your life—" His voice broke, and he stopped. “I love you, I love you," he said when he could speak again.

It took some time for her eyes to focus, for the meaning of the words he had spoken to take hold. When they finally did he felt her body tense in his arms. She pushed him away and turned to look into his eyes. “Llauron is not dead?"

'No." He tried to think of words to console, to explain, but no sound came out of his mouth. The transformation her face was undergoing kept him from speaking.

“It was a hoax?"

'Yes."

'That's impossible,“ she said, rising to a stand. "I lit his pyre myself. I sang his dirge."

Ashe swallowed, tasting the bile again that had risen to his mouth. “I know, Aria, I'm sorry. I never meant to deceive you. Your starfire was necessary to allow him to enter an elemental state he could not have achieved without you."

'What does that mean?"

He tried to recall the words he had used to tell her the first time, on the night she had no memory of. “Llauron had grown weary of the limits of his existence in human form. His blood was part dragon, but that nature was dormant. He was aging, ill and in pain, and facing his own mortality—he didn't have much longer to live in human form. He wanted to come into the fullness of his wyrm identity. The starfire you called down on him gave him the power to change form, transformed him into a dragon state, much like it did for me. It made him almost immortal, like Elynsynos, and gave him the ability, like Elynsynos, to become one with the elements."

She considered his statement thoughtfully. After a moment her face hardened with comprehension. “Why didn't he just tell me? Why didn't you just tell me?" Ashe looked away. “Oh. This was it, wasn't it? This was the memory you took from me that night, wasn't it, Ashe?" He couldn't lie to her. “One of them, yes."

'There were others?“ She sighed dismally, her anger not yet in full force, though he could feel it boiling beneath the surface. "What else?"

His throat closed. One of the things he had come to realize in the time they had been apart, after that last glorious night together, was the danger their marriage might bring on her. Now that their souls were united, if the F'dor knew it would try to use her to find him. Or, far worse, should he be found first and killed, the demon would know his soul was no longer complete, since a piece of it now resided within Rhapsody. It would come after her. Her own lack of knowledge of their wedding was the only thing that was keeping her safe.

He had already come to the horrific realization that he couldn't tell her they were married until the demon was dead. Now, as she stood trembling before him, unspeakable hurt and growing rage taking root in her eyes, nothing in the world would have been more desirable than to give her back the memory, to tell her he was her husband, and comfort her in all the ways he knew how. But he had to keep the secret. The danger was too great.

'I can't tell you yet. Believe me, Aria, there is nothing in this world—"

'Believe you?“ Rhapsody interrupted. A choked laugh escaped her. "Forgive me if I find that somewhat ironic."

'You have every right to feel that way.“ He took a step toward her, and she took the concurrent step back. "Aria, please—

'Stop calling me that,“ she said sternly. "I'm not your lover anymore, Ashe. I doubt the future Lady Cymrian would appreciate it; I know I don't."

'Rhapsody—"

'Why, Ashe? Why couldn't he tell me?"

Ashe sighed. He looked up into her eyes, the stare blistering his soul. “Llauron needed you to act as his herald, and to do so truthfully. He needed you to spread the word, as you did, of his death, so that it would be believed. Since he was the last powerful person standing in the F'dor's way, it was his hope that his supposed death would bring it out of hiding."

'But it's a lie. You just said he isn't dead."

'I know."

'And you knew this plan?"

He hung his head. “Yes," he said softly.

Rhapsody wrapped her arms around her waist as if she was going to vomit. “You let me lie, Ashe. You let me believe a patent falsehood and spread it, from my lips, across the land. Do you understand what that means?"

He did. He just nodded.

'It means I am no longer a Namer; that I've violated my oath. I have lost my ability to be believed, my credibility.“ Rage took over her, intensifying her trembling into furious shaking. "Can you understand that, besides losing my profession, I've just lost myself, too? That I am a different person now than I was, because of this?"