Eolyn (28 page)

At last she allowed herself a short laugh. “You will only sadden me further with such talk.”

“That I would see you dance?”

“That you may not return.” Her expression grew serious again. “Corey, I meant what I said the other day. I don’t want you to go. I have a very bad feeling about this.”

“You are a maga, not a Syrnte witch, so I am disinclined to listen to your premonitions.”

“But Corey—”

“I am exaggerating the peril of my adventure in a pathetic attempt to convince you to take pity on me and warm my night with a little of your magic,” he said. “I would not have suggested speaking with Lord Herensen if it were unlikely to work. You know me, Eolyn. I do not take foolish risks. Unless, of course, they are forced upon me by clever magas.”

She laughed again.

Thank the Gods.

Corey proffered his arm, and she accepted his invitation.

Together, they entered the circle of dancers.

“We have only a few hours before the dawn,” he said, pulling her close. “We must make the most of what time remains to us.”

C
hapter Thirty-Three

Eolyn awoke with a start,
heart pounding, sweat trickling down her neck.

A humid breeze lifted the skirt of her tent, revealing a flash of silver light that heralded an approaching storm. Shivering, she wrapped her blanket tight around her shoulders.

A shift of eyes. The flash of a blade.

The dream slipped away with her sleep, leaving only scattered images that evaporated like mist when she tried to grasp them.

A spray of blood. The cracking of ribs.

Rising, Eolyn lit a candle, found her water basin, and refreshed her face. Something called her, a howl trapped inside the rising wind. She considered escaping into the forest, into a world without war, as Owl or Lynx or Deer. But the last time she shape shifted Akmael had found her, and she dared not risk encountering him again.

She pulled a simple dress over her nightshift and put on her cloak. Leaving her tent, she greeted two guards Ernan had posted. At times, it seemed she had escaped Corey’s vigilance only to be subjected to her brother’s less subtle approach. She bade them not to follow, assuring them she would not wander far.

An army was never quiet, as she was learning, not even during the dark hours of the night. There was always movement and voices: mocking laughter beyond the next tent, brutal swearing, an unexpected clash of metal, the heavy stamp of horses. Rough grunts of men and stifled moans of the girls they bedded. Eolyn wondered if she would ever grow accustomed to it. She hoped she would not.

Drifting unseen through shadows, she watched men-at-arms drink and gamble at the edge of their fires, soldiers she did not know, men who would risk their lives for her freedom. 

A shattering of glass. A room with no escape.

A sudden grip on her wrist startled her. She looked up into black eyes, saw ebony hair drawn into a braid, felt a curved dagger at her throat. Recognition, then astonishment, flashed across his rugged face. He released her and stepped back.

“Maga Eolyn.” The Syrnte warrior gave a nod of respect. “My apologies. I did not recognize you.”

She had walked to the far side of Ernan’s camp, where a small cluster of gold and burgundy tents marked the dwellings of Rishona and the Syrnte soldiers who accompanied her. Their camp was quiet, with but a couple torches illuminating its edges.

Rishona’s men wore little besides their breast plates and weapons, leaving their powerful arms and muscular legs exposed. This one smelled of sweat and night and the spices of his homeland. He made her heart ache for Tahmir. What she would not give to have him beside her now, to know the comfort of his strength.

A flash of pain behind the eyes. Darkness.

“I am here to see Rishona,” she realized. “Please, tell her I have arrived.”

“Let her pass, Rahim.” The Syrnte princess melted out of the shadows, fastening her cloak with a jeweled brooch. When she took Eolyn’s hands, her touch burned.

“You skin is ice, s
amtue
!” Resting her palm against Eolyn’s cheek, she searched the maga’s eyes. “The Ones Who Speak tried to reach you. Did you hear them? Do you know what has happened?”

Confused, Eolyn looked from Rishona to her guard. “No. No, I do not know.”

Rishona drew a hesitant breath and then said with quiet resolve, “Corey has been betrayed.”

Eolyn’s heart constricted. Her balance faltered, but Rishona caught and steadied her. They walked arm in arm to Ernan’s tent, as fast as their feet could carry them. Her brother’s guard left them waiting outside while he announced their arrival.

Eolyn heard a muffled protest. Within moments a girl appeared at the doorway, slender with brown hair that fell in tangled curls to her waist. Without a sideways glance, she dropped a few coins into her purse, adjusted a cloak about her shoulders, and continued on her way.

Eolyn fought the flush of indignation that rose to her cheeks. She could tolerate such behavior on the part of Ernan’s men, but in her own brother, it seemed unacceptable.

The pleasure of the Gods is not to be bought and sold in the marketplace,
Ghemena had taught her.

But then, Ghemena had said many things that no longer seemed to have a place in this world.

Ernan appeared and ushered them inside. Upon hearing their news, he sent at once for Khelia, who arrived with Adiana on her heels. Eolyn listened in horror as Rishona described her vision of Corey’s arrest, while Ernan paced about them, the scar on his face white with fury.

“Why did you not foresee this?” he demanded when Rishona had finished.

“I do not choose which visions come to me or when,” she replied.

“Selkynsen is lost.” He shook his head, his eyes fixed on the floor as if divining a message from the earth itself. “We must march toward the city at once.”

“That decision is not yours alone to make,” Khelia objected.

“I don’t see how we have a choice, Khelia.” He met her gaze. “We must strike quickly before reinforcements arrive.”

“What about Corey?” Adiana asked.

“We do not know who betrayed Corey or why,” Khelia insisted. “The province may yet be divided.”

“Lord Herensen betrayed him,” Rishona said.

“But Corey left certain of their friendship!” Eolyn exclaimed.

“The King’s messengers reached Herensen first. The patriarch of Selkynsen has judged our cause too risky, and saw a need to reassure the King of his fealty. It was not his intention that Corey be mistreated, but once they arrested him, the situation passed beyond Herensen’s control.”

“If we have lost Herensen, we have lost the province,” Ernan maintained. “We must march before it is too late.”

“Why does nobody answer me?” Adiana demanded. “We must do something about Corey.”

Ernan studied her with a puzzled frown. “There is nothing to be done.”

“Nothing to be done?” she repeated, incredulous. “They will torture him, execute him even, if we do not act quickly.”

“If we are lucky, they will kill him before he reveals too much.”

“You can’t be serious.” Adiana looked to the others for support. “We can’t abandon him just like that. He is the thread that holds us together. None of us would be here if it weren’t for Corey.”

“Adiana is right,” agreed Khelia. “We cannot simply sit here while he perishes at their hands.”

“Marching on the King’s City is not sitting here.” Ernan’s voice was thick with impatience. “We have this one opportunity and we must seize it!”

“Let me go for Corey,” Adiana insisted. “Give me half a dozen men and women. We will find a way.”

“They intend to take him to the King’s City,” Rishona said.

“There you see? I know that road. I can walk it in my sleep. There are two passes, both excellent for an ambush, and a third that could work if the others fail.”

“They will expect you in all those places,” Ernan objected.

“I don’t care. We must at least try to save him.”

“Adiana.” Ernan placed his hands firmly on her shoulders. “I cannot sacrifice any of my warriors to this mission you propose. We need every last man and woman if we hope to bring down the Mage King.”

“I can send some of my people with you, Adiana,” Khelia offered.

“And I, some of the Syrnte,” Rishona added. “They are fighters of great stealth, and their magic may be of use to you.”

“Has not the obvious occurred to you?” Anger flashed in Ernan’s clear green eyes. “Do you not see the possibility that is we who are betrayed?”

Stunned, Khelia took a step backwards. “You can’t possibly mean that.”

“Why not?”

“Corey started all of this,” Khelia replied. “He would never lie to us. Not like that.”

“Mages of Tzeremond don’t lie. They simply avoid telling the whole truth.” Ernan turned to Eolyn. “What say you, sister? Is there anything Mage Corey has said or done that might be inconsistent with him being a spy of Tzeremond?”

“He hates Tzeremond,” Eolyn replied. “He spits that name out as if it were venom. He refused to study High Magic because of Tzeremond.”

“Did Corey tell you that, or are you simply repeating one of the many rumors he has allowed to flourish around his person?”

“Ernan—”

“He gives the appearance of a Middle Mage, but you told me that in the King’s City, he kept company only with the High Mages.”

A grain of dread settled in Eolyn’s heart. Ernan had a point. Corey had always seemed far too influential for his rank. He never wore the colors of a Middle Mage. And yet in the city, the High Mages had received him as one of their own.

“His life was built on duplicity,” Ernan continued. “His cousin betrayed her clan. Who are we to presume she did not teach him by her example?”

“I
saw
him arrested by the Lords of Selkynsen,” Rishona said. “His magic was bound, and he was beaten. My visions do not lie.”

“How long has he studied your Syrnte ways?” Ernan countered. “The mages of this land can plant visions in the minds of our people. Surely by now Corey knows how to plant visions in your mind, as well.”

“That kind of spell can only be cast at close range,” Eolyn objected. “And there are clear symptoms. The victim cannot tell, but those around him can. We would know. I would know.”

“Would you, sister?” Ernan turned on Eolyn, hands flexing at his sides. “What transpired between you and the Mage King in the moments you spent alone with him?”

A chill passed down Eolyn’s spine. “I told you what happened.”

“No, you did not,” Ernan said. “You have kept something from me, something important. I feel it simmering beneath your reserve, goading you with every moment that takes us closer to battle. The Mage King set you free and entrusted you to Mage Corey, who brought you to us. Why? To force our hand? To bring us out before we were ready?”

Ernan seized Eolyn’s arm in a painful grip.

“Will you betray your kin, Eolyn,” he growled, “as Briana betrayed hers?”

Eolyn froze at this unfathomable accusation. She felt the eyes of Khelia, Rishona, and Adiana upon her. Silence hung stiff as a hot summer cloud.

“Oh, for the love of the Gods!” Khelia’s powerful voice cut through the tension. “If there is no one in this room you can trust, Ernan, we may as well pack up our weapons and go home now. Adiana, you will have three of my best warriors to accompany you to Selkynsen.”

“And three of the Syrnte,” Rishona said.

“I too would like to go,” Eolyn said.

This announcement was met with silence.

“There will be mages to contend with,” Eolyn reasoned. “You need someone who knows how to confront them, who can release Corey’s magic.”

“Now that I cannot permit,” Khelia replied.

Ernan lifted his hands to the heavens. “Thank the Gods we are at least in agreement on this!”

“If we lose you in addition to Corey, we have no hope,” Khelia said. “I cannot ask my warriors to march upon the Mage King without a High Maga at their side.”

“I could fly back here once we are done.”

“And risk a High Mage trapping you along the way?” Ernan objected. “Never.”

“Well which is it, Ernan?” Eolyn’s own temper flared. “Am I strong enough to defeat the Mage King, or too weak to contend with one of his mages?”

Ernan’s jaw clenched. His face hardened in distrust.

“Or do you think I wish to abandon this rebellion and run away with Mage Corey?” Eolyn said.

“Eolyn, we do not question your abilities or your loyalties,” Khelia interjected, though a glance at Ernan betrayed her flicker of doubt. “This is not about you, it is about our own sense of hope and purpose. You have become the symbol of our struggle, the promise of our success. Our people see you, and they are motivated to attempt the impossible. If you disappear on the eve of our confrontation with the Mage King, the effect would be devastating. You must stay here. Adiana will find a way without you.”

But how could Eolyn remain behind? For if Ernan was wrong, then Corey must be saved. And if he was right…

If he’s right, I want to hear it from Corey’s own lips.

That he had deceived her with his friendship. That he had set her up as the unwitting instrument of her brother’s doom. That he had used her, right from the very beginning.

Rishona placed a comforting arm about her shoulders. “His arrest was sent to your dreams, Eolyn, but that does not mean his fate is in your hands. You must let Corey go. It is your destiny that requires your attention in this moment, not his.”