Lady Warhawk (36 page)

Meghianna searched further through the Threads, and still found no sign of her sister.
Megassa had successfully shielded herself, and that indicated a strength of
imbrose
she
should not have possessed. How long had their enemies been planning this? How long had
Megassa been part of the plotting?

Ynfara became her confidant, her assistant. Meghianna knew how difficult it had to be
for the young queen to spend so much time in Mrillis' quarters. The sense of his presence was so
strong here, it had to be disturbing. Meghianna found it comforting, as if she might look up from
a long evening of studying, with her head and eyes aching, to see Mrillis leaning against the wall,
shaking his head, a smile parting his beard, ready to offer the answer she had been seeking with
so little success.

Later, she appreciated the irony that Ynfara was the one destined to find the answer, in
the prophecy Ceera and Trevissa had both spoken to Mrillis about his downfall.

"But it offers hope, doesn't it?" Ynfara said, when she spread the single sheet of
parchment out on the table between them. "The one he had the least to fear--Nemma, because
she was Ceera's ghost--and the one who hated and feared him the most. Me."

"But you had nothing to fear from him."

"When I thought you might not be able to remove the tattoo magic. I thought there was
something I had done wrong, that I hadn't fought long enough. And I hated him for my heritage,
because it put me in the center of prophecies and all this political fighting..." She sighed and
rested her elbows on the table and rubbed her eyes.

"What's wrong?" Meghianna fought a chill that threatened to settle inside her. "What
new lies are starting up? We've spent so much time locked away in here, I've quite lost track of
the days, let alone the newest stupidity of the Court."

"Some suspect." Ynfara rested her hands on her belly. Only when she pressed her skirts
against herself could the gentle swell of the growing child be noticed. "They're dropping all sorts
of hints, asking all sorts of questions. Some of them quite nasty. Athrar gives them a blank look
and pretends not to know what they're talking about. It was quite amusing at first, frustrating
everyone. But I'm afraid we outsmarted ourselves. Some people are sure that because Athrar
doesn't know about the baby, that means we are not sleeping together anymore, and the baby is
someone else's."

"Lycen's, of course." Meghianna sighed and rested her head in her hands. "No matter
what course we take, the choices we make, we put a weapon in our enemy's hands."

"Some of our enemies know I am not unfaithful. They'll try to kill my child." Ynfara
took a deep breath. "I want you to take me back to the Stronghold, until my daughter is born.
Maybe to stay, if the situation doesn't improve."

"Ynfara--"

"Athrar's heir is more important than anything else. He agrees with me." She shrugged.
"He doesn't like it, but he agrees with me."

In the end, Meghianna had to agree as well. The timing was close enough to make it
believable when she announced it was again time to check for the magical design in Ynfara's
back. Her heart ached when she saw the tearful farewell between Athrar and Ynfara, and knew
her brother would face a rising wave of scandal and vicious rumors when his wife did not
return.

The Stronghold didn't feel like the warm, welcoming haven it had been before. The two
of them rarely spoke, diving into their studies, desperate to find the answer to free Mrillis.
Meghianna didn't like Ynfara's insistence that she was the key, perhaps the only one who could
free the enchanter. The moons wore on and the child's growth became visible and Ynfara's
strength grew fragile. And still no answers.

"It's right in front of us," Ynfara said one evening, when they had given up their studies
and rested their eyes by sitting in the common room by the fire pit. A tired laugh escaped her.
"Not right here, literally. It just occurred to me that whatever they did with Mrillis, they did it
right then and there, in that spot where Nemma was sacrificed. Her blood so fouled the ground, if
there had been a sign carved into the bedrock saying 'here lies Mrillis the enchanter,' we wouldn't
have seen it."

"I believe you might be right," Meghianna said slowly. "And just like the spell that
wiped Megassa from most people's minds... It kept us from seeing or even thinking it. My dear,
we will make an enchantress of you yet. Such clarity of vision." She laughed wearily and
nodded. "Yes, in the morning, we will prepare for the journey."

Ynfara opened her mouth to say something, most likely a protest, but Meghianna
stopped her. Later, she thought she should have been suspicious when the young woman meekly
acquiesced and went to bed. The next morning, Meghianna tapped on Ynfara's door to wake her
for breakfast, and the young queen was gone.

I'm halfway there,
Ynfara said, when Meghianna called her through the
Threads.
If I am the key, then perhaps no one can be with me, no other imbrose can be here,
when I set him free.

How are you going to do that? And how can you dare to risk your child's
life?

Without Mrillis to stand with Athrar, what sort of life will my child have?
Ynfara shot back.

Meghianna agreed with her, but that didn't mean she would sit idly in the Stronghold
while Ynfara traveled through the wilderness of the frontier, with the Encindi so close. She
packed up the minimal supplies necessary and followed Ynfara down the tunnel to the coast.

She might agree that Ynfara was the key, but that did not mean she would let her wander
through the wilderness without protection. Yes, Ynfara's
imbrose
had grown, but there
came a time when even the most powerful enchantress lost some of her strength as all her
resources turned inward to protect and nourish her unborn child. Ynfara's belly was noticeable
now. Her pregnancy would not protect her from harm--especially if someone recognized her as
Athrar's missing queen.

She contacted Pirkin, Athrar and Lycen through the Threads, to tell them what Ynfara
had decided and had done. Meghianna knew Pirkin would insist on going out to search for his
daughter and watch over her. Lycen overruled him and broke off communication with them as
soon as Meghianna gave the three men Ynfara's proposed route.

Athrar sounded weary more than upset.
I agree with Ynfara that she is the answer,
the one prophesied, but I still wish it could have been someone else. What if she loses our baby?
Do you think Mrillis would want to be rescued at that sort of price?

It is high time someone did pay that high a price for him, after all he has suffered
for our world,
Pirkin said.

Your daughter? Your grandson?

Granddaughter,
Meghianna said.
Didn't Ynfara tell you yet?
She
nearly laughed at the impressions that came to her through the Threads, and imagined both men
gaping in surprise.
We are sure she carries a daughter.

That will be no help at all,
Pirkin said.
True, the enemies of the throne will
back off, pretending friendship for the sake of taking control of the throne through marrying
her--

I'll thank you to let my daughter grow up before you marry her off,
Athrar
growled. He laughed.
A daughter! Why didn't she tell me?

You'll have to ask her that when I have her safely back at the Stronghold,
Meghianna said.

She agreed with Pirkin--the risk was worth it to bring Mrillis back to them. She prayed
that the price would not include Ynfara's child, or Ynfara herself. Mrillis' heart might just break
one final, fatal time, if that happened.

Please, blessed Estall,
she prayed,
don't take him from me. I can't live
without him.

Lycen joined Meghianna two hours south of the tunnel mouth at the coast. He'd ridden
his horse into a lather, despite changing horses every hour with Valors he trusted implicitly.
Meghianna thought it might do them all a world of good if some of those Valors who provided
fresh horses and supplies for them along their journey had looser tongues. Some gossip about
how Lord Lycen rode at a frantic pace in the company of the Queen of Snows, both of them
grim-faced and intent, might do a great deal to dispel the more vicious, intentional rumors.

Ynfara had the advantage of being half a day ahead of them, despite riding at a pace
designed to protect her horse's strength and her child's life. She used
imbrose
only to
shield herself from the notice of anyone and anything she passed in her journey, and that left a
faint track that Meghianna prayed few could follow. She concentrated on the wisps of power and
disturbance among the Threads and let Lycen take care of guiding and defending them.

Ynfara reached the clearing where Nemma's brutally slaughtered body had been found
while more than half an hour of travel still lay between her and her pursuers. She dropped her
shields and stretched out her thoughts to take in the entire countryside, every living thing that
might sense her presence, hear her, smell her.

"Grandfather..." She shivered, and the sensation of cold and fear and flickers of doubt
came through the Threads to Meghianna.

Meghianna glanced sideways at Lycen as they urged a little more speed from their
mounts, and more wrinkles of worry settled around his grim mouth.

"Grandfather, I am sorry for all my anger and for pushing you away. I forgive you for
the circumstances in your life that led to so many changes in mine. I can see now you were not in
control. I forgive you, and I beg you to forgive me." Ynfara swallowed hard and whispered in the
suddenly too-silent night. "I do love you, Grandfather."

A tear escaped each eye and slid down her dusty cheeks. One hit the edge of her cloak.
The other hit the ground.

A harsh, dissonant chime rang through the clearing. A crack appeared in the ground
where the tear struck. The stink of old, rotted blood gushed up from the crack as it grew wider
and longer.

Ynfara staggered backwards and reached for the reins of her horse as the creature
whinnied and panicked. She stepped back a few more paces as the crack turned into a long, black
hole and the sides caved in. A sickening green light pulsed from the bottom of the hole, like a
weak heartbeat. Ynfara gagged at the stink gushing up in the air from the bottom of the hole, and
nearly went to her knees.

A soft shimmer of sound washed across the landscape, like a sweet, warm breeze of
springtime, carrying the perfume of a thousand fruit trees in bloom. Meghianna choked on mixed
laughter and frustration, and knew that once again, she was too intent on one task to follow the
song of the Zygradon and find its resting place.

But what did it matter? Mrillis, she knew in that moment, had returned to the land of the
living. She couldn't sense him yet, but the Zygradon knew he was there, and rejoiced.

The intensity of the rotting stench rising from the ground softened and faded with every
heartbeat, and the darkness of the green light decreased, changing until only a pale, silvery glow
remained in the air. A man groaned, faint and weak.

Meghianna cried out, nearly falling from her saddle, as the sense of Mrillis' presence
returned to the Threads. Tears filled her eyes and she shook her head at Lycen, who grabbed hold
of her arm and would have stopped her horse.

"Ride on! They need us now." Sobs and laughter mixed in her voice.

By the time they reached Ynfara and Mrillis, he had regained enough strength to pull
himself most of the way out of the hole with her help. They lay in a heap, wrapped around each
other, nearly on the edge of the hole, both muddy and sweaty and trembling with the effort.

Riding so long without stopping had not been kind to Ynfara. Meghianna took one look
at the young queen and saw that she had taken the precaution of wrapping her womb in a
protective spell, so the baby would be unaffected by whatever strain she endured.

Their return journey took three days. They rode slowly for the sake of Mrillis and
Ynfara. She held his hand whenever she could, and Meghianna was sure that was the best
medicine the enchanter could have been given.

Master Deyral and the doorway to Wynystrys waited for them at the coast, an hour south
of the tunnel leading to the Stronghold. Meghianna gladly let their small party be taken onto the
island, rather than travel another half day to reach the Stronghold. It was a relief to let someone
else be responsible for the welfare of her two patients.

She made sure Mrillis was safely washed and tucked into bed, then oversaw Ynfara's
identical treatment, because the young queen would not leave his side until he was tended. Then
Meghianna gladly sank into her own bed in the guesthouse next to Ynfara, and slept for two days
straight, content in the knowledge that Wynystrys would carry them all safely home to
Quenlaque.

When she woke, Lycen sat by her side, his eyes dark with sad news.

Edrout had emerged from hiding with Lok and Mykil as his supporters. He demanded
that Braenlicach be given to him as Athrar's heir and the next Warhawk. Raids had hit the
strongholds of the minor Moertan kings most loyal to Athrar simultaneously, meaning this
campaign had been planned for moons, maybe years. The disappearance of Mrillis, then Ynfara
and Meghianna, had given them the opening and weakness they needed.

"Let him come and take it," Mrillis said, when Meghianna and Lycen joined him and
Ynfara on the shore of Wynystrys a short time later. He sat on an enormous, flat boulder, looking
through the protective haze to the coastline where the harbor of Quenlaque was wrapped in
storms. "The star-metal sword will burn the hand of anyone unworthy to hold it."

"It will allow itself to be touched by the hands of those who helped forge it," Meghianna
said. "A descendant of the Warhawk's bloodline, or a descendant of one of its forgers."