Hunted (Book 3) (29 page)

A timid knock at the door brought her to her elbows. “Come in.”

A waif of a girl, no older than twelve, entered, carrying a plate of dried apples and cheese in one hand and in the other a goblet of wine. The door shut behind her and the Chalaine waived her over, signaling for the girl to place the tray on the small table near the bed.

“What is your name?”

“Rena,” she answered with a curtsy, voice nasal and high.

“Thank you, Rena.”

“You are welcome, Lady Khairn,” she replied, and the Chalaine paused.
Am I still Lady Khairn?
She rarely saw anyone, and everyone she did see called her Chalaine, even Athan. It was as if even those committed to the idea of her marriage could not, deep down, think of her as Chertanne’s wife. And yet this very day she was taking part in a scheme that risked the life of the man whose name she would wear proudly for the sake of one whose name had already worn off.

“Are you well, Milady?”

“Yes, yes,” the Chalaine answered, emerging from her stupor. “I am sorry. Thank you again for the food. I will be finished and gone in half an hour. You can return for everything then.”

The Chalaine wanted to remove her veil to eat, but her young servant stood fidgeting nervously. “Are you sure there is nothing else you require?” Rena inquired, voice desperate.

“I do not. . .” Then the Chalaine saw it, the servant’s veil pitched slightly to the left. Rena had a message. “Now that you mention it, I wonder if you might brush my hair? It is a bit tangled, and I find it soothing.”

Rena relaxed. “I would happy to, Lady Khairn.”

“Please, call me Chalaine.”

“As you wish,” Rena said, pleased. The Chalaine removed her veil and chewed on a leathery apple slice while she waited for Rena to stop gawking. Once Rena began, the Chalaine focused, waiting for the girl to begin the conversation that would contain the indirect message.

“Do you and your mother look much alike?” she asked.

So the message is from my mother.

“I believe so, though I have always thought she had an elegance that I do not.”

The girl said, “I am sure she is thinking about you, wherever she is. She did arrive with you, did she not, along with several of your guards?”

“Yes, though I have not seen her or them since. I wish I could see them.”

“I imagine so.”

“I fear for their health and safety,” the Chalaine said. “I think the Padras locked them up in the miserable dungeon they have in the bottom of this place.”

“Well, if they did, then they
all
probably sit around and wonder if you’re being treated well, since they wouldn’t get any news of you down there.”

Does that mean they are all in the same place?
the Chalaine wondered. If true, it would be good news.

“I think they know that I have to be well taken care of. I am carrying Eldaloth within me, after all.”

“Of course,” Rena agreed. The Chalaine ate quickly as Rena remained silent. Was that the extent of the message? Was there no more?

Rena alleviated her worry and spoke again. “I do not wish to offend you, Chalaine, but I have heard so many stories about the man Gen. Are they true?”

“I would have to know what stories you refer to.”

Rena swallowed. The Chalaine could sense the confusion and difficulty in her voice. “Is it true he came here looking for you?”

“Yes.”

“Were your frightened? He is the Ilch.”

“I would never be frightened of Gen. He is not the Ilch. He is my loyal servant, and I care for him deeply. He would no more harm me than he would harm you or any other innocent creature. He has saved me so many times and in so many ways, I could never repay the debt.”

Rena breathed more easily, though the Chalaine could not tell if her next question was part of the message or part of her curiosity.

“Well, I heard that your mother is very fond of him and worries about him continually.”

“That is true. She loves him as much as I do.”

“I apologize for asking such sensitive questions. It is not my business.”

“No need to apologize.”

More silence ensued. Rena continued working at the Chalaine’s hair, using the pause in the conversation as a transition.

“Did you know that Ironkeep has many Portals within it?” Rena asked a couple of minutes later.

“I had heard that.”

“They are all over. There are some that haven’t even been discovered. I’ve never been through a Portal. Is it really as sickening as they say?”

“The first few times, yes,” the Chalaine explained, wondering where this was going. “Though you get used to it.”

“There are many Portal Mages here. There was one that Shadan Khairn—well, Chertanne’s father—kept around that wasn’t part of the Guild.  He was funny. I didn’t see him much after the Shadan invaded Tolnor. I wonder what became of him?”

The Chalaine began to understand. “Using a Portal Mage that is not part of the Guild would bring the wrath of the Guild down upon the Shadan! Surely he didn’t want it known.”

“Probably not,” Rena agreed. “Torbrand probably had him killed when the war was over, or maybe he locked him up in that miserable dungeon. At least he would be in good company in the dungeon, if your mother and your guards are there.”

The Chalaine’s heart leapt within her. She knew exactly where this was going now and laughed casually. “I would agree with that and envy him for it.”

Rena stopped combing. The message was over. “I have forgotten to take the chamber pot from the Padras’ quarters. Forgive me, Chalaine, but I must go.”

“I release you. Thank you for your conversation. It has calmed my mind considerably.”

“You are most welcome. Fare thee well, Milady.”

Time passed too quickly as the Chalaine thought and schemed, wondering what use she could make of the message implied in Rena’s conversation. Gen’s safety depended on somehow maneuvering him near the others in the prison, and while she hoped that Padra Athan would imprison him in the dungeon, she doubted they would send him so far out of their control or so near his allies. At worst, she suspected that Padra Athan would betray her and kill Gen once Chertanne lived. The Padras most likely scenario, as she figured it, was to send Gen away to Mur Eldaloth, as they had originally planned, and she could see no way to prevent it. Even worse, Chertanne might seek Gen’s life out of revenge, whatever her Protector’s part in his return to life.

She racked her brain as she returned to the dark chamber in the dungeon, but she could come to no conclusions. Blood pumping from Gen’s arm and the task of keeping him alive ended her vain machinations, and once again she found herself relying on faith.

The last three bleedings passed quickly compared to the first four, Athan shooing everyone from the room and back out into the hallway once the last bleeding ended. The Chalaine gazed at Gen one last time as the Eldephaere shut the door, turning to find all the Padras lined up on the stairs.

“Only Padras will remain here. Everyone else, go up,” Athan ordered. The Chalaine walked toward the stairs when a thought came to her.

“May I descend to visit my Mother and her companions? I should be nearby if Chertanne awakens.”

Athan, conversing in hushed tones with his fellow Churchmen, stopped abruptly and turned in her direction. “No. You will wait here in the event I need you to remind Gen of his oath. Guard, bring Chertanne.”

Athan turned away again and, after issuing commands, the rest of the Padras filed onto the small landing, pushing her partway down the stairs to the dungeon. In a few minutes, a group of Eldephaere struggled to bring Chertanne’s corpse, covered in a white shroud, down the winding steps. A bier simply couldn’t squeeze around the corners, so they transported the body unceremoniously with hands on ankles and under armpits.

“Place him directly into the vat of blood,” Athan instructed, removing a folded document from his robe. “Leave this document by Gen.”

The Chalaine wondered what Athan had written, but she found all thoughts driven from her mind as the men entered, and, after a great slosh, returned again, locking the door behind them with a rusted set of keys.

“Create the wards,” Athan commanded, “and then stand away. Make sure you are not visible to Gen through the bars of the door.”

The hair on the Chalaine’s arms stood up as magical energy filled the room, the Padras incanting. Once done, Athan and half of the Padras pushed her farther down the steps as the other half ascended to get out of sight of the door. Athan exhaled and concentrated.

“Pray this works, Chalaine,” he whispered. “Everything depends upon him.”

The Chalaine wondered which of the two men in the room behind the wall that Athan meant.

Gen’s eyes fluttered open. He sat up quickly, intending to assess his environment, but a power in the room burned like a bonfire in the dark, drawing his attention immediately. Next to him sat a vat of his own blood, energy emanating from it and suffusing him with strength. He reached out a hand to touch the black iron of the pot, a nearly drunk feeling overcoming him.

With the vat’s contents, he could raze Ironkeep, turning its walls into dust for the wind to carry off. His head swam with the new training now open to him, and in horror he knew he could just as easily use the virtue of the blood to create weapons of such power they could annihilate the very soul of a living creature, as Mikkik sought to do to Eldaloth.

Only when he stood did he notice the note as it fell from his lap onto the floor. He stooped to retrieve and open, finding Athan’s practiced, practical script.

Gen,

We have placed Chertanne in the vat and into the blood. Remember your vow to the Chalaine to use your power to raise him. Remember that he is key to the unfolding of prophecy, whatever your personal feelings. I pledge that I will see that the Chalaine is treated with honor and respect at all times when Chertanne returns and that I will not harm those you care for. I have done what I have done for the sake of the world. The Chalaine understands that this must be done. Honor your promise to her.

You should open a Portal to Erelinda, for it is there that Eldaloth’s servant surely resides.

If, however, you hurt Chertanne in any way, there will be retribution against those you care for. While this is, perhaps, beneath me, it is the only reason that you listen to. When you are finished, have Chertanne call for us, and we will come for him.

Padra Athan

Gen refolded the note and set it next to the lantern, peering into the oversized cauldron
.
Chertanne’s corpse lay on its side half covered in the blood. Gen stepped back, repulsed and uncertain. He could feel the Chalaine just beneath and behind him and remembered agreeing to perform the spell to return her husband to life, but something had clouded his mind then. With his judgment now unencumbered by potion or magic, his heart struggled.

Surely the Chalaine has been and would be happier without him.
With the knowledge available to Gen now, he had no doubt he could leave Chertanne dead and take her back to Rhugoth.

But as the thought ran through his mind, so did his mistake in Elde Luri Mora; he had tried to kill Chertanne out of pride and vengeance. He had ignored the Chalaine’s wishes and orders and turned his life to ruin. If she believed that reviving Chertanne was the right course, then he felt he should honor his commitment to her and perform the ritual as she asked. He no longer trusted his own feelings and reasoning.

Gen closed his eyes and enveloped himself in the essence radiating from his collected blood, pulling it within him. In the training the Millim Eri had concealed from him he found the knowledge to create a Portal into the Abyss and to Erelinda, though Mikkik would never attempt the latter. Chertanne’s body would act as a lodestone to the spirit, and—once connected—he would use blood magic to re-forge the link between body and soul to bind them again. It was the ultimate power of blood.

While Athan assumed that Chertanne rested peacefully in the light of Erelinda, Gen thought this wishful thinking, concentrating instead on the location Chertanne’s actions merited. In a thought he accomplished it, the Portal into a palpable blackness coalescing just above the cauldron. A dread chill filled the room, reminding him of the hole from which had risen the demon at the betrothal.