Lady Warhawk (22 page)

Perhaps that is part of the Estall's riddle,
Mrillis offered after a moment of
simply listening in his spirit.
Perhaps with all the star-metal in the World concentrated in
Lygroes, we can wrap the World in Threads, find every rebel enchanter, every Encindi warrior
and raider, and push them all into the sea, without need for the Warhawk. The Warhawk can
once again belong entirely to the Noveni, and magic can belong entirely to the Rey'kil.

The Estall intended us to share everything. Our problems with star-metal--perhaps
the loss of so much knowledge and understanding--began when we split into three races and
three continents and did not work together. For all we know, the Encindi were an integral part of
keeping the World safe, but we made them villains and barbarians. We will never regain that
balance, despite the Encindi who work with us and have even become Valors.

Mrillis agreed with her. The 'tame' Encindi weren't quite trusted, despite years of loyal
service, proving they were just as honorable as the other two races. The Encindi who held to the
old ways of bloodshed and violence and blood magic, determined to dominate the world, counted
the tame Encindi as traitors.

We will never have peace in this world,
Meghianna said. She sounded like a
forlorn, lost little child. Mrillis wished he knew where she was among all the loud, brilliantly
dressed, celebrating people, so he could hold her in his arms and let her weep on his
shoulder.

Perhaps the child of hope, who will change everything, will be conceived
tonight
, he offered.
The Estall has surprised us before with the fulfillment of
prophecies.

She sighed.
I am very tired. I think when Athrar and Indreseen are safely on their
wedding trip, I will go to the Stronghold and shut the door and sleep for an entire moon. I won't
listen to what is going on in the outside world, and no one will be able to disturb me.

Won't you be lonely?
The thought of Meghianna entirely vanishing from all
contact with the World made him shudder deep inside.

You could come with me. Certainly we've earned a long rest, and some courtesy
from the rest of the World to leave us alone?
Her voice had a touch of weary laughter.
Don't worry, old meddler. It's just a lovely, empty little dream. You don't think I would really
lock out the entire world and let it get into trouble, do you? That would be just as foolish as
letting my two boys play in the kitchen without hiding all the knives and emptying the water
barrels so they don't slice their hands off or drown themselves.

A lovely image. I'm sure your boys will be flattered.
Mrillis felt more reassured
than he could quite fathom, when Meghianna's merry laughter drifted to him through the
Threads.

He found her just a few short minutes later, sitting in a quiet alcove in the open gallery
that looked down over the feasting hall. For the wedding festivities, she had dressed all in soft
gray trimmed in silver and diamonds, with her hair pulled back in a net spun of silver and
crystalline dust. The simple, severe style made her seem young and fragile. Mrillis paused just
outside the alcove and tried to see where her serene gaze focused on the people down below. It
didn't take him long to see Lycen sitting with his scholarly ladylove, Ilianora. The young Valor
held her hand, their fingers intertwined, and listened to her as she spoke, all his attention focused
on her face. Mrillis approved of the girl Lycen adored. Ilianora adored Lycen in return, without
any silliness and flutters and fuss.

"How soon do you think we'll have another wedding?" he said, finally stepping into the
alcove. His heart skipped a beat in relief and something else that made him feel lightheaded
when Meghianna's face lit up, and she scooted over so he could share the short bench with
her.

"Not for a while. He has to escort Athrar and Indreseen on their wedding
journey--political game playing, in his words," Meghianna said with a weary smile.

"Smart lad."

"And she is heading immediately back to Lygroes, to oversee the establishment of
Athrar's library in Quenlaque Castle. Papa says there are many historical documents that have
been duplicated and saved in secondary libraries over the generations, and he thinks it a fine
thing to gather up all the duplicates and preserve them in Quenlaque's library. Especially with all
the enchantments we have woven around the castle. Do you know, they're already saying it will
stand when all the rest of the coastline falls into the sea?" She chuckled, but Mrillis didn't miss
the momentary flicker of apprehension in her eyes.

"What have you seen, my dear?"

"A castle. Larger than the one we built, if that's possible. Our castle, added onto over the
years by need, as if all the people in the entire world have been forced to live there during a time
of great danger and testing and sorrow. And most of Quenlaque itself is indeed vanished into the
sea. The plateau watches over the waves, and far out into the distance, a shimmering wall of
magic goes down into the water and stretches up high into the sky and arches overhead, coming
between the land and the sun, the moons, the stars." She shook her head. "I am very tired, and
don't know half of my own words, let alone what pictures pass before my eyes."

"Or behind them." He was relieved to get a snort and a quirk of her lips in response.
"Then we know we have built well, for generations to come. Did you see any enemies gathered
around the walls, coming from land and sea?"

"No. Perhaps that is a promise that we will endure when our enemies are dust, and there
is no longer any war, because there is no more division between Rey'kil and Noveni and Encindi.
All people will live in the castle, because all people will be welcome." She nodded. "It is a lovely
dream, a lovely hope. Pray the Estall it becomes so."

Mrillis reached over and caught hold of her hand. "How are you, my dear?"

"Tired. Confused. I tell myself that I might just feel the same apprehension and
discontent when Lycen marries... But I dearly love Ilianora. She has the sense not to be afraid of
me. Why do I dislike Indreseen so?"

"Because she is silly, and we expect so very much from Athrar."

"What will history say of us, for letting him marry a silly girl? Yes, she is sweet and
innocent, trusting and forgiving. All good things. But as the Warhawk's Queen... Is that
safe?"

"Your sister will guard her from all the nasty fighting hens in Court," Mrillis offered. He
was pleased when the tension in Meghianna's face relaxed.

"Thank the Estall, Megs likes the girl enough not to get thoroughly frustrated with her. I
couldn't take the job." She shuddered in mock loathing. "When we are finished here, I will take
Ilianora under my wing. I will invite her to the Stronghold, when she is done establishing the
library. I'm sure there are entire chests of duplicate records stored at the Stronghold, to donate to
the library."

"And both of you will be safe from the fuss and pageantry of Court. That, I think, is
more important to you than any library, my dear." Mrillis laughed heartily when Meghianna
blushed, eyes sparkling, mischief making her face thirty years younger. He missed the little girl
she had been, but he realized he could not live without the woman she had grown into.

Meghianna was heartily glad to take Ilianora under her wing and whisk the scholarly,
quiet, black-haired girl through the tunnel back to Lygroes. She was so relieved to get away from
the political maneuvering and pageantry that she only felt a few flickers of guilt over depriving
Lycen of his sweetheart's company. She felt no guilt whatsoever at leaving Mrillis the task of
watching over the newly married couple.

Master Deyral and the scholars of Wynystrys gave their approval of her son's
sweetheart, when the two stopped at the hidden island to search for scrolls for Athrar's library.
Ilianora missed Lycen greatly, until Meghianna gifted her with a thick torque of woven
star-metal, fashioned to look like a wreath of summer flowers. It boosted the girl's
imbrose
to reach over long distances through the Threads and converse with Lycen whenever she wished.
With that small complaint attended to, Meghianna filled the girl's mind with wonders and
impressed her with the scholarly delights of the Stronghold.

She and Ilianora had only been in the Stronghold a little more than a moon when Lycen
and Mrillis called to them through the Threads with news that war had broken out. The royal
wedding journey had to be cut short. The Encindi barbarians had been concealing their numbers
ever since Athrar emerged from hiding, and now they had exploded into action, spilling across
the landscape from the wastelands of the Wayhauk Mountains. Like a wave of locusts devouring
everything in their path, they entirely decimated villages and strongholds like twigs tossed into a
fire, and the people were scorched grains, trampled underfoot.

Lorkin's fortress, the jewel of the entire mountain range, was entirely destroyed. Not a
stone was left on top of another, and everything was char and blood and rubble when the Encindi
forces passed through. Not enough could be found of Lorkin, Megassa's husband, to be buried in
his own grave. Those who came through after the devastation found the pommel of his sword,
but they were forced to bury all the burned bones of the defenders in one mass grave.

Meghianna and Ilianora hurried through the underground tunnel from the Stronghold
and raced to the Vale of Bo'Lantier. They reached it the day Mrillis led Athrar's traveling party
up from the tunnel below the sea. Meghianna ignored everything and everyone, to find her sister.
Despite the breaking of their childhood bond years ago, she felt the throbbing ache and
emptiness in Megassa. She cried out in actual physical pain when she saw the pale, too-still
figure who rode stiffly upright, surrounded by her sons, staring straight ahead with empty eyes.
Megassa's hair had turned gray. Dark smears underlined her eyes, her cheeks were hollowed as if
by starvation, and her mouth had thinned to a hard, flat line.

Megs. I am here. Hold onto me. Don't leave us. Your boys need you. I need you,
Meghianna said, over and over, as she guided Megassa down out of the saddle.

Indreseen became Megassa's anchor. She didn't indulge in the extravagant displays of
sorrow and sympathy Meghianna expected, but wept silently, held onto Megassa's hand, and
sang sweet songs in her pure, clear, soft voice. Megassa responded to her when she ignored
everyone, even her own sons and her sister.

Athrar took all the Valors and soldiers of his escort to ride out immediately to join the
Warhawk's army, while Meghianna escorted the women to Quenlaque Castle. She settled
Indreseen and Megassa with their own army of soldiers and Valors for defense, made Ilianora
chatelaine of the castle, and then set out to join forces with her father, brother, and Mrillis in the
renewed war.

* * * *

Peace came with the fall, but Meghianna didn't trust it. Peace dictated by weather wasn't
real peace. She imagined their enemies plotting together under cover of storms that threatened to
drown the countryside. She wanted to retreat to the Stronghold and sleep the fall and winter
away, to save her energy for the battles that would return in the spring. She didn't want to watch
Athrar and Indreseen play their silly sweetheart games, arguing over nonsensical things. They
made up extravagantly, so she thought she would become ill from the sweetness.

Three things kept her in Quenlaque. Megassa, still fragile from the loss of Lorkin,
needed her. Her sister sedate and silent, lost in her memories, was a disturbing sight Meghianna
could never get used to. Meghianna was glad of the bond between Indreseen and her sister,
because the bride's silly extravagances and childish passions brought Megassa out of herself.
Meghianna divided her time between Quenlaque and the Warhawk's fortress for the sake of her
sister.

Meghianna's second reason for not retreating to the Stronghold that winter was her
father, Efrin, who had taken a vicious wound and then was caught in an ice storm while the
wound still had him feverish. Her visions of a frail Efrin were reality now. Athrar had proven
himself a worthy and capable heir in the short, vicious war that filled the Wayhauk Mountains.
With the Warhawk throne in good hands, all that kept Efrin in the land of the living was
Glyssani. Meghianna refused to leave her father alone for too long, afraid he would slip away in
his sleep when she was far away. She journeyed between Quenlaque and the fortress, feeling as
if two opposing forces pulled and pushed on her, demanding all her attention, like two children
who were too frail to be moved closer together; each with equal, justified demands on her
attention and loyalty and love. She rarely slept in those days.

Her third reason for not retreating to the Stronghold was Lycen and Ilianora.
Meghianna's few true joys that long, cold, wet, weary fall and winter came from her visits to
Quenlaque and spending time with her son and his sweetheart. They gave her the strength to give
everything to her father and to Megassa, and made no demands on her whatsoever. If not for
their support and love, Meghianna thought she would have shredded like a cloak pulled in too
many directions, trying to cover too many people. Their love for each other gave Meghianna
strength and refreshed her soul.

Ilianora was a true scholar, delighting in knowledge simply for the sake of knowledge.
She made Lycen stronger, willingly sharing him with his duties as Athrar's Warlord. Ilianora
helped Lycen laugh when the world seemed dreary and grim all around them. She stood up to the
petty games and nastiness of Court, and had Indreseen's respect even as she ignored the girl's
constant complaints that Athrar never spent enough time with her. Meghianna adored the girl.
When the three were able to relax together, she admitted she was heartily relieved that Ilianora
liked her.