Obsidian (22 page)

N’vonne pulled herself together and told him to follow her. Trint, meanwhile, had latched onto his father’s hand. Ester had grabbed Trint’s other hand and Alisha followed them all like a mother hen.

They arrived on a main street completely changed. Anxious silence had been replaced by joyful shouts and tearful greetings. Everywhere they looked, loved ones were hailed, children scooped up, and women swept off their feet in long, intense embraces. It was as if, on the eve of invasion, the people of Lascombe had decided to host a family reunion. For Trint, the change served as a confirmation of the joy he was already feeling. Alisha and Ester, however, were mystified. Mystified, that is, until Alisha saw her parents talking with a dear, departed friend. And with them stood a young man whose appearance stopped her in her tracks. At first she said nothing, but it was obvious that she was torn between running to her loved ones and staying with Trint. She wavered until Wake assured her that he would watch his son as well as Ester. After making hasty arrangements to meet up later, she ran to join them. Then Wake wandered off with the children, leaving N’vonne alone, trying not to watch the crowd for the one man she wanted most to see—the man she had not seen since that fatal accident had deprived Vancien of his father.

She found him standing in front of a seed shop, looking in the window and pointing out items to the woman next to him. She was short, with a round face and expressive eyes. The way she cocked her head was so familiar that N’vonne could not restrain her cry, the sound of which made them both turn around. When they saw her, both their faces lit up in recognition and before she knew it, she was in Hull’s arms, sobbing, as Vancien and Amarian’s mother stroked her hair.

“It’s all right,” the woman soothed. “See? It all turns out all right.”

Feeling a little awkward about hugging Hull with his wife watching on, N’vonne stepped back with a sniffle.

“I can’t believe you’re here. I mean, you—you’re both here,” she stuttered. Hull’s kind blue eyes were the same as they’d always been, only more intense.

“N’vonne,” he began, although he had to stop as she regained her composure. “N’vonne, I want you to meet Chera, Vancien’s mother.”

Chera’s smile was warm, without the slightest hint of jealousy. “So you are N’vonne! I’ve heard so many things about you. You were the one who took care of Hull after I left and then, when he joined me, you took care of Vancien. How can I ever thank you? Vancien needed a mother so badly. . .”

With that comment, she wrapped N’vonne in an enthusiastic hug, broken only when Hull politely interceded and asked to be shown to their children. “I’ve never been in such a big city,” he added. “Will we be able to see Amarian and Vancien soon?”

N’vonne nodded eagerly and hurried them through the streets, glancing back at them again and again, trying to assure herself that they would not disappear as suddenly as they had come.

Vancien and Amarian, meanwhile, continued to pray in Chiyo’s room. The candles had burnt out and the chamber’s thick walls prevented almost all outside noise from entering. Sometimes they would take turns, each asking Kynell for mercy, for protection of their loved ones, and always for the return of his faithful. Sometimes they would pray in silence, each opening his heart to the Prysm god. Sometimes they would be on their knees, sometimes pacing around the room, occasionally with their eyes open and often with their eyes shut. Amarian, who had so recently felt what it was to fear Kynell through the Ealatrophe’s talons, prayed as humbly as he could manage, submitting everything to his will. If the god wanted Rhyvelad destroyed, well, who was a converted Advocate of Obsidian to stop it? Vancien approached the god boldly, relying not on his past service but on his assurance that the Prysm god was an accessible deity, one who forgave wrongs and listened to human petitions.

Amarian was just considering lighting another candle when they heard a voice coming down the hallway. It was indistinct, though they could tell it stopped right outside their door. It continued muttering to itself as the door opened, allowing light from the corridor to spill in and cast its form in silhouette.

“Now, he told me I could find them here,” the voice grumbled, “but blast it, it’s so dark! Is the treasury so depleted that they can’t afford candles?”

The voice, now recognizable, brought back a flood of memories for both of them. Memories of opening packages sent from far away, of breach harvest and the festivals that went along with it, and of a generous-hearted uncle whom as children they loved to see.

“Uncle Naffinar?” Amarian asked hesitantly.

“Ah, so somebody is in here! Amarian, be a good boy and light a candle.”

Amarian did as he was told. Soon the room was lit again and the brothers were reunited with their beloved uncle—one who, not two cycles before, had been slain before Vancien’s very eyes by Amarian’s orders.

Vancien couldn’t contain his excitement over Naffinar’s sudden presence, as well as what that presence meant for Rhyvelad. He would slap Naffinar on the shoulder once or twice, then race to the hallway to see who else was there, then return to pound Naffinar’s shoulder once more. Amarian held back and fiddled with a candle.

“Amarian, lad!” Naffinar exclaimed as soon as he could get a word in between Vancien’s exclamations. “Come here and give your uncle a proper greeting. It’s been a while since I’ve seen you. You’ve grown into quite a man!”

Amarian pulled himself up to his full height, emphasizing the already considerable difference between his stature and his short uncles’.

“Uncle,” Amarian began, “I cannot forget how it was that you left us so abruptly. Were it not for my actions, you would still be with us. I owe you an apology, although I understand if you don’t accept it.”

Naffinar was so silent that Vancien feared that Amarian would not be offered the grace he had requested. He should have known better. Naffinar’s time in Kynell’s presence had improved him, not impoverished him. He gestured for Amarian to come stand before him.

“Amarian,” he replied, his hand resting heavily on Amarian’s armored chest, “how could I, who have been forgiven so much, not forgive you for something you did before you even knew Kynell? Perish the thought—but remember it!” He could restrain his smile no longer. “By Ruponi, it’s good to see you!”

The name sent Vancien’s head spinning. “Ruponi! I bet he’s here in the palace!” He ran to the open door. “The Ages say that
all
the dead of the past ten thousand score will. . .” his voice trailed off as he stared down the corridor.

“What is it, Vance?” Amarian called, following him to the door. He, too, stopped as if he’d seen a ghost. Naffinar, muttering again, poked his head out behind them.

“Ah, Hull and Chera! And N’vonne! Come on in! The boys’ll be happy to see you.”

The boys were happy to see them—so happy that they stood mute. Vancien, who had never seen his mother, stared at her as if she were a portrait. Amarian felt tears well up in his eyes. The last time he had seen his father was the day he had left to serve Obsidian.

No one but Naffinar spoke until Hull, Chera, and N’vonne were in the room. An unknowing onlooker might have thought the two brothers were facing an enemy, so hastily did they back away from the visitors. For Amarian, this was not far from the truth. He had departed from everything his father had taught him, used the name of Hull for the purpose of evil, and had killed Hull’s child with his own hand. His father had every right to judge him, and his mother too.

To forestall the inevitable, he seized on the one good thing he had tried to do. “I wanted to take care of Vance after I left,” he mumbled, not sure how to begin, “but Zyreio wouldn’t let me. And I couldn’t fight him. He was too strong.”

But Hull did not speak at all. Instead, he pulled him so close that Amarian became a frightened boy again, crying because he had seen something scary next to the fireplace.

“I’m proud of you, ‘Ian,” he whispered. “You tried to protect your brother the only way you knew how. You must have been terrified. I’m so incredibly proud of you.” He repeated that last phrase over and over, until he knew without a doubt that his son heard it and believed it.

Happy reunions were taking place throughout the city as lost loved ones from all over Rhyvelad were called to muster at Lascombe. The city swelled with the increased numbers, but no one noticed or cared. Few were the individuals who did not encounter a spouse, parent, child, cousin, grandparent, or friend who had chosen to follow Kynell, if not always in life, at least in death. The old city saw more tears of joy that night than it ever had of sorrow. But Lascombe could not forget the cause of its current happiness; the orbs would soon rise and with them would come Obsidian’s army.

Telenar and Chiyo had enjoyed their share of delightful reunions. Chiyo had been delighted to see his old friend, Hunoi, whom he had promptly assigned to the south-east gate. Yet Telenar was happiest when N’vonne made it back to his side. When he met Hull along with the others, he tried to be as amiable as possible. N’vonne had been open about her feelings for Hull and at the time, Telenar had not felt much jealousy over a man who was dead. Now, he couldn’t help but be intimidated at the tall, muscular figure who glowed with life. Nor did he feel more at ease when Hull pulled him aside for a quiet conference.

“Telenar,” Hull whispered, “may I have a quick word with you? I know we have much to do.”

“That’s an understatement,” Telenar huffed. “The great hall is filled with faithful monarchs and generals of the past; all of them anxious to have a role in tomorrow’s battle. Did you know how many faithful members of the Square there were in the past ten thousand score? And how many of them have diplomatic leadership skills but don’t know how to hold a sword? Still, the good news is that Kynell seems to have taken care of the language barrier for the ones risen among the Cylini.”

He was prattling, he knew, and he kicked himself for it. But Hull was undeterred. “Yes, my friend, we will have to face many challenges very soon. But first,” he lowered his voice even further. “I want to tell you how much I admire your courage.”

“Courage?”

“You had the boldness, Telenar pa Saauli, to tell the Patroniite
leadership the truth at great risk to yourself. Then you had the patience to wait for Vancien, instead of trying to make it work with a pretender or giving up all together. And if that were not enough, you had the audacity to court one of the most beautiful women in Rhyvelad.”

Telenar allowed his eyes to drift to N’vonne, who was chatting with Vancien and Chera. She caught his eye and smiled.

“Kynell knows
I
didn’t have the guts to seek her hand,” Hull continued, “even after Chera had passed on and I felt free to marry again. You are a bold soul, you are,” he concluded, slapping him on the back. “It will be a pleasure to fight next to you.”

Telenar’s response was forestalled by Chiyo, who was rapping on a table for attention. Not a man to be distracted from duty for sentimental reasons, he had taken it upon himself to call the defenders to order. Everyone in the small chamber gave him their respectful attention.

“I am as happy to see our loved ones as anyone,” he began. “We must thank Kynell for his timely provision.” They murmured assent as he continued. “But the time for action is just beginning. It appears to me that the first order of business is to divide our resources. Risen Ones,” he bowed to Hull, Chera, and Naffinar, “allow me to suggest that your women facilitate our evacuation efforts. If, Kynell forbid, we should not triumph above ground, your women will be some protection for our precious ones in the evacuation tunnels. Meanwhile, all of the remaining Risen Ones should gather in either the Stoa or the Royal Courtyard under the main tower of the eastern wall, there to await orders. Hull and Naffinar, I would appreciate it if you would take these orders to the men and women waiting in the Great Hall. I am sure they understand that, since I’ve been appointed to my post by the king and, I hope, the Advocates,” he tilted his head to Vancien and Amarian, “I intend to retain my command over the situation for the time being.”

With these orders distributed, the men and women said their goodbyes. For Hull and Chera, it was the farewell of a moment. Whatever happened, they would be reunited in Kynell before too long. But for N’vonne and Telenar, as well as for Chera and her sons, it was a painful parting.

“My precious boys,” Chera sighed, holding both of them close. “I’m so proud of both of you. Vancien, I missed so much. And Amarian,” She put a hand on his cheek. “What a strong man you’ve become. I know you’ll fight well. Kynell is so kind.” At this point, she could go no further without crying. They, too, were fighting back tears and only drew back when Hull gently pulled her away.

N’vonne and Telenar had withdrawn to a quiet corner where he kissed her on the forehead, the cheek, the mouth, and then the forehead again. “You have to stay safe,” he whispered, “I trust Kynell, but if I lost you—”

She nodded, her heart too full to speak. Though she could not have expected it, her recent reunion with Hull only made her love her scholarly, impetuous husband even more. Running her fingers through his graying hair, she murmured how much she loved him and promised him that she would stay as safe as she could.

Then it was time to go. Hull and Naffinar departed to the Great Hall, while N’vonne and Chera set off for the difficult task of rounding up the celebrating evacuees. Chiyo and Telenar went to explain things to the king and find Corfe. Vancien and Amarian left with their father, following him like two shadows.