Lady Warhawk (15 page)

Then she forced a smile on her face and turned with him to greet the boys, who clattered
and shouted and raced up to the wall to demand praise for their daring stunts.

The boys, as Mrillis had predicted, were delighted with the adventure. The Stronghold
of the Queen of Snows had become more legend than reality. They spent several happy evenings
in her quarters, planning their trip.

"Can't we take the tunnel to the Stronghold?" Athrar asked, after a long discussion
involving maps and a wax table to calculate how much food they would need to take for
themselves and the soldiers guarding them.

"What tunnel?" Arkin asked.

"There's a tunnel from the Stronghold to Wynystrys. Well, where Wynystrys used to be
on the coast." Athrar shrugged, then frowned, disappointed, when his nephews gave him a blank
look. "The island of Wynystrys, where the Rey'kil scholars live. They move it wherever they
want, to protect it. The boys strong in
imbrose
used to go to school there."

"Why?" Lok's expression clearly showing his doubt of what Athrar said.

"That is the way it was done, back before I was born," Meghianna said. "Boys went to
Wynystrys for their schooling in magic, and girls went to the Stronghold. As the world kept
changing, we spread out, I suppose you could say." She smiled, amused that the boys found the
concept of change so hard to accept. "When Lady Ceera discovered that star-metal could be
tamed and worked like any other metal, the taming put more power into the Threads and many
more people had
imbrose
. Including Noveni. Increasing the energy for magic changed
how our world was perceived and how people related to each other. We established schools
outside the Stronghold and Wynystrys, because there were more people with
imbrose
."

"To keep them from abusing it?" Lycen ventured.

"Exactly."

"Like the Nameless One," Athrar said. "The schools were set up to train people in the
right way to think and act and treat their magic, so they wouldn't become evil, like him."

"Exactly."

"So we can use this tunnel?" Garyn said. "That would make the trip faster, wouldn't
it?"

"It would. If we could use the tunnel. But we can't." Meghianna smothered a giggle
when the boys all gave her matching confused looks. "The same spell that guards the Stronghold
would stop us halfway down the tunnel. No male not born of the Stronghold may enter."

"You could go all the way through," Mikyl said.

"But why would I want to go all that way by myself? This trip is for you six."

I could go through all the way, couldn't I?
Lycen asked.

Of course. But I think it would be wise to keep that a secret for now.

* * * *

Megassa's sons delighted in digging up every story they could find about the Stronghold
and the spells that protected it from intruders. They repeated the stories as they traveled,
enlarging on the terrifying, gory details, until Meghianna shuddered to hear them--and she knew
the truth. Yes, the Lake of Ice was ringed by the skeletons of those who had brought inimical
magic to the gates of the Stronghold, to enter with evil intent. But there wasn't a fence,
surrounding the Stronghold made of skeletons, five deep and stacked three bodies high. The
bones most certainly did not dance under the light of the full moon. And drakags did not emerge
from the Lake of Ice to shoot flames from their mouths and devour intruders.

From the expressions of the soldiers guarding them, Meghianna realized she should
have halted the gory stories three days before. She had been too caught up in memories to pay
proper attention to what her young charges did and said. She decided now, several days out from
the Stronghold, was the time to fix that. She kept the boys busy, teaching them about the people
who had lived in the Stronghold, the great Queens, the healers and enchanters who had been born
there. All the boys clamored for stories of Mrillis. However, they didn't ask questions when she
brought up the subject of the three children of the Nameless One: Endor, sent to Wynystrys, and
Triska and Nainan, who came to live in the Stronghold.

"Nainan was my grandmother," she offered. Garyn and Mikyl glanced at her. The other
boys studied the ground in front of their horses. "I assume someone very nasty has told you boys
about your heritage. Shall I give you the truth, and separate it from the nastiness, then?"

"We figured out that's part of why Father isn't very happy we have
imbrose
,"
Lok offered. "He'd be happier if we were ordinary, so we don't have to worry about some evil
spell taking over our minds someday at the worst possible time."

"Hmm, that's very sensible. Gloomy, but sensible." She winked at him, surprising the
boy into grinning. "Triska, the youngest child of the Nameless One, was chosen as Queen's Heir.
Between the spell her father put into her mind, and the vicious tricks and lies her brother, Endor,
inflicted on her, she turned traitor. She brought plague into the Stronghold and sealed it against
all who would come to help. She attacked Lady Ceera, to kill her. Her own daughter, Trevissa,
proved her loyalty to the Stronghold by hunting her down and killing her."

"Trevissa is our grandmother," Garyn said. He hunched his shoulders, visibly ashamed
by that admission.

"Yes, and she should be considered a heroine, because she fights very hard to keep the
evil magic within her from harming anyone. You should be proud of her." Meghianna took a
deep breath, trying to calculate how much good or harm her speculations would do the boys.
They needed some hope. "I think she weakened the spell, so it didn't root in your mother, who is
very loyal to the Warhawk. She was even a Valor. That's how she met your father, you
know."

"We know." Arkin wrinkled up his nose. "They laugh about it sometimes and get silly
and kiss a lot when they don't think we're watching." The other boys made disgusted faces,
prompting Meghianna to laugh.

"If the evil didn't root in your mother, then how could it have any chance of rooting in
you?" she asked them. Meghianna decided she had chosen the right course, when she saw their
young faces smooth out and their shoulders straighten. She wouldn't tell them that no one had
any total assurance the boys were safe from their heritage. Close watch was still kept on
Megassa, just as the boys' Valor teachers kept close watch on them, seeking for the first sign of
the Nameless One's influence.

Their party reached the first of the sheer cliff faces that stood between Lygroes and the
rocky wastes and ravines where the Stronghold lay. The soldiers guarding them sent their captain
to politely ask Meghianna not to order them to continue any further.

"The spells keep everyone out, Lady," the man said, intent on studying the reins in her
hands rather than meet her eyes. "Anywhere else, we'd gladly face the danger for you. But this is
your territory, and even though you say we'll be safe..." He shrugged, daring to look up and meet
her gaze for a heartbeat or two.

"It's the ghosts," Garyn offered, his sweet voice penetrating the moaning of the wind
down the narrow passageways through the rock. "They trust you, Aunt Meggi. They don't trust
the ghosts."

Meghianna was on the verge of laughing. True, no one could harm her and the boys on
the half-day ride down the maze of passageways to the Lake of Ice. Why not encourage the
ridiculous tales of avenging spirits by letting the soldiers stay out here? The boys would enjoy
the adventure even more, believing themselves braver than the Warhawk's finest troops. She
agreed, and felt some pity for the captain, who was torn between relief and shame.

"You will be all right out here? We will only be gone inside for perhaps half a moon at
the most," she said.

"Oh, yes, Lady. Perfectly fine. We'll set up camp and hunt and explore a little. Where it's
permitted, of course," he hurried to add.

* * * *

"Mother?" Lycen paused in putting down the armload of wood he had gathered for their
evening campfire.

Their party had reached the last long, winding passageway that would empty out on the
pebbly shore of the Lake of Ice. They had decided to camp, and take the last hours of the journey
in the morning. The ravines and gullies in the rocky wasteland surrounding the Stronghold were
full of debris, washed there by spring flooding, so there was plenty of firewood. The ground was
smooth where sand had piled up, and moss grew thick in the deposits of rich soil. They would be
comfortable, when the winds racing and moaning down the passageways slowed for the night.
Meghianna imagined the boys might find the darkness beyond their campfire a little unnerving,
and remember all the terrifying tales they had delighted in telling on the journey here. She
wouldn't say anything, but let them figure out the lesson for themselves.

"What is it?" She shifted a little to the right, silently inviting him to share the thick pad
of blankets she had arranged as a seat by the fire. Lycen tossed a couple sticks onto the fire and
sat next to her, leaning against her a little.

"I can see Threads. Almost. I think." He grinned and shrugged. "From the corners of my
eyes. I can see thin lines, pale green and blue. There." He traced lines with his finger in the
air.

Meghianna turned her gaze slightly sideways, to see the Threads of the protective spell
that wove through the passageways, and followed the path of his finger.

"Can I? Or am I just imagining it?" His voice dropped to a near-whisper.

"You can indeed." She took the opportunity of their closeness and wrapped her arm
around his shoulders for a quick hug. "I'm pleased."

"Will the others?"

"I rather hope not." She laughed a little when his dawning look of pride shifted to a
confused frown. "You were born here. That gives you an advantage. And I'm not too proud to
admit I want you to be a little bit better than the others. Special. That's silly, isn't it?"

"Maybe not." He grinned, a mischievous sparkle flashing in his eyes for a moment.
Meghianna missed that sparkle. She sometimes feared that she might never see that look in her
son's eyes again. The world had reached out and claimed him, and the whirlpool of prophecy had
snatched at him, just because of his proximity to Athrar. And because of who had adopted
him.

"You have an affinity for this place," she continued. "I am glad you can see the
protective spells."

"I'll be able to go inside, won't I?" Lycen said, lowering his voice even more. "Because
the spells allow me. Because I was born here."

"Oh, yes. And I'm proud of you that you haven't been throwing that in the other boys'
faces, when they're not always nice to you."

"They fight among themselves, too. It's not like they're trying to push me out."

"Yes, it's just normal for boys." Meghianna pushed down her instinctive anger. Lycen
had spoken too quickly to reassure her that he wasn't being treated any differently. That meant he
was indeed being excluded.

* * * *

Meghianna took them around the farthest edge of the Lake of Ice, riding where no fog
from the ice writhed through the air. The boys rode in silence, staring at the slow-churning
billows on their left hand, and on their right the high stone walls, etched smooth by wind and
grit. She said nothing about what lay hidden on their left, and made a silent wager with herself
how long it would take before one of the boys dared ask. They had frightened themselves with
their tales of the terrors that awaited intruders on the pebbly shore of the lake. The passage into
the village was hidden by illusion, but easy enough to penetrate by those who knew the
landmarks. She taught them the signs as they wandered among the stone pillars and ravines and
high walls of the twisting passages.

The boys enjoyed the adventure of exploring the abandoned village once inhabited by
the husbands of the Queen's Ladies. Because each house was made of stone and sealed with
magic when the owners left, they were as dry and vermin-free as the day the doors had been
pulled closed. Each boy chose his own house and set about to move his gear inside and explore.
Meghianna noted they all chose buildings close to each other, and despite their claims that they
were quite grown up too, Arkin and Garyn chose to share one. After the boys tended their horses,
she showed them the archway built against a solid rock wall, which the men used to go from
their village to the Stronghold.

"Magic," Garyn whispered, and reached out to rub his little gloved hand against the
intertwined vines of the carved archway. "Did they have to say a lot of spells and close their eyes
and do lots of complicated things to get inside?"

"No. The simplest magic is the strongest of all, because the rules are so hard to break.
With complicated magic, there's always some flaw, some gap in the wall you've woven, that lets
someone inside." Meghianna stepped up through the semi-circle of boys. She took her glove off
and touched the carving of a seagull that peered out of the loops and ribbons and knots carved
into the stone. The magic stirred in reaction to her presence. She allowed a stirring of sadness for
the lifestyle that no longer existed, the bustling life of the village that had vanished while she was
a child. The plague Triska had brought into the Stronghold had also decimated the village. With
so many wives and mothers dead from the plague, the men had no reason to stay at the
Stronghold.

"How simple?" Lycen said, when she remained silent a little longer.

"No man could get into the Stronghold through this arch unless he had a wife or mother,
daughter, sister or grandmother inside. To walk through this arch, he simply spoke her
name."

"That's too simple," Mikyl said, rolling his eyes in scorn.

"It's perfect," Lok said, grinning. "You can't lie to the magic. You can't make up a name,
or claim someone who doesn't belong to you."

"Exactly." Meghianna met Lycen's gaze and her son grinned at her. She had promised
that after the other boys had gone to bed, he could come through the village's entrance and
explore the Stronghold, but she hadn't told him how he would do it. "Now, shall we see about
making dinner?" She turned, putting the archway behind her.