Stormed Fortress (101 page)

'
The lump in the clay has been there all along,
'
Elaira declaimed, now amused.
'
You both don your breeches one leg at a time. Though I swear, the Fatemaster
'
s list will be written and burned before either of you will admit it.
'

Humour lifted the shadow of shame. Parrien could weather the passage to Athir with at least the semblance of grace. If the Sorcerers made an appearance to try him, he would seize opportunity, rally his courage, and place an appeal in behalf of his brother.

As if his stubborn resolve was transparent, Elaira laughed with kindly understanding.
'
Sometimes such adamant, rock-headed strength opens the path to create a changed outcome.
'
Her smile blurred by the swing of the lamp, she added,
'
We are both snagged by fate. But I will not give way to the pointless belief that I am unworthy, or helpless. That was the one lesson I learned on the streets, and a stance I chose not to abandon.
'

Parrien looked at her. He realized she was not blind, but tenacious, altogether too well aware her beloved
'
s recovery swung over the abyss.
'
Beware of your Fellowship prophet,
'
he told her, forthright.
'
At Athir, he may turn on your interests.
'

Her poignant smile resurged, rendered brilliant.
'
My gratitude, Parrien. But

I need no one
'
s warning. Dakar
'
s intentions and mine lie at odds, beyond question, on the subject of Arithon
'
s future.
'

* * *

The harsh passage lasted for one fortnight more. Alestron
'
s defences still had not fallen on the wind-swept, fair morning the courier sloop wore into the barren headland, where green ocean rollers smashed to lace spray, at Athir. Lest the exposed anchorage should draw undue notice, the stripped hull was scuttled the moment her supplies and passengers had been ferried ashore. Beyond the heaped dunes, atop a windy hillock, the roofless towers of a Second Age ruin stitched a crazy-quilt maze of stonewalls. An old right of way, winding westward towards Minderl, filled the nights with Paravian haunts. The wan silver gleam of ethereal presence made town-born mariners shy away. No one landed to fill casks at the wells, whose water still ran sweetly clear. Few could endure the cry of the breeze, singing over lost beauty in poignant lament.

Yet clanblood respected the voice of the free wilds, and initiate talent knew how to propitiate ghosts. Dakar invoked need under charter law auspices, for the sake of Rathain
'
s threatened crown prince. Respite was granted, which let Talvish and Parrien
'
s field-guided experience fashion a shelter of sailcloth and spars inside an abandoned courtyard. There, for three days, the small party laired up in wait for assistance from Althain Tower.

Yet the Paravian circle sited at the old ruin did not deliver a Fellowship Sorcerer. No attempt at scried contact raised answer. Sethvir maintained his obdurate silence, while uncertainty shortened balked tempers. Parrien
'
s endless attempts to pick fights moved Talvish to drag him off hunting to fill the stewpot. Arithon regained no sign of awareness, though Elaira fatigued herself, trying. She weathered the cold, lonely nights set apart, with his limp frame clasped in her arms. The rhythm of his breath and heart-beat never once quickened to her murmured speech. His angled features stayed utterly lost, clothed in unearthly serenity. Though she listened, and threw herself into rapport, nothing answered her unpartnered cry but empty distance and vaster quiet. Far beyond the veil, Arithon danced at one with the star song, above the reach of her talent. Each morning, she rose and attended his clothes. Combed his black hair, and changed his linen. With Glendien gone to fetch water and wash, Elaira bared his marble skin and rubbed his raw scar with sweet oil. Until the dread hour that she paused with hitched breath, run chill by the stark recognition: her healer
'
s touch sensed the insipid loss of resiliency in vital tissue.

'
We are losing him!
'
she snapped in despair to Dakar, who sat cracking the marrow from the stewed bones left over from last night
'
s supper.
'
If your Sorcerers care for him, why aren
'
t they here? Ath
'
s blinding glory! I cannot bear to watch while his spirit abandons his flesh to slow atrophy!
'

'
You need not, for much longer,
'
Dakar said, abstruse. He stopped chewing cartilage, swallowed, and caved. After all, he could not brave Elaira
'
s direct stare.
'
I know of a way, only one, to recall him. But the chance taken must come at the cost of your guarding hold on his integrity.
'

Elaira shuddered. Desperately tender, she covered the matchless, neat symmetry of Arithon
'
s body: the exquisite hands that had bestowed pleasure on her; that always grasped life with such vivid intensity, now lying bitterly still. Gone was his laughter, along with the passion that sourced the well-spring of his musical talent. Silenced, the rages, so swift to defend his most vulnerable caring.

'
Say on,
'
she demanded, pressed by reckless fear.
'
I will not believe that Arithon chose to abandon his fate without fighting.
'

'
You will not like the method
'
Dakar shivered, fussed by his glaring reluctance as he skirted the explosive disclosure.
'
Winter solstice, at Athir, can be made to invoke Rathain
'
s sanctioned tie through the land.
'

Her recoiling cry, as she grasped the cruel gist, slipped her whitened lips before thought.
'
No! That would conceive his child! Under Selidie
'
s binding, I can
'
t ever -
'

But the spellbinder whose loyalty upheld the succession met her cringing nerve with no mercy.
'
Then Glendien must assay the rite in your place. I have asked her, yes! She
'
s already told me she
'
s willing to try!
'
Against that horrified jolt of deception; into the teeth of an undying love
'
s speechless fury, he bore in.
'
Arithon swore an oath to survive in let blood to the Fellowship Sorcerers! Here, where his Grace knelt before Asandir to receive the seal over the knife-cut, the ocean sand keeps the imprinted charge of that promise. Koriathain! I tell you, on no terms do you realize the cause that marries the realm to an Atheran crown prince.
'

Elaira stayed obdurate.
'
You will not proceed with this!
'
Wild-cat angry, poised over her prostrate beloved, she lashed out.
'
What friend would dare even
think
to betray him with another woman as surrogate! I
'
ll not grant you the keys to Arithon
'
s heart! Never for your unscrupulous usage to salvage the throne of Rathain.
'

Dakar shrugged, already braced for that blast of indelicate argument.
'
But I know the keys, lady.
'
Past grace, he insisted, "They
'
ve been shared already, given into my keeping since the moment Kharadmon disrupted your misspent union in Halwythwood.
'

'
Dharkaron Avenge me for that violation!
'
swore Elaira, drained beyond pale.
'
You wouldn
'
t!
'

Footsteps pelted, outside. Her distress had drawn notice. Glendien burst in, panting and flushed, her red hair soaked, and her clothing half-laced in a sprint from the well that expected to thwart bloody mayhem.

She stepped into a tempest; with her husband
'
s drawn knife at guard point, and measured the furious combatants. Then saw Elaira
'
s fingers, protectively clasped over Arithon
'
s pillowed head.
'
You
'
ve told her!
'
she snapped. Her vitriolic glance flicked back to Dakar, who was harrowed enough to cringe outright.

Elaira said, stony, oblivious to the tears that silvered her eyes.
'
Glendien? How can you become a consenting party to
this?
You once tested Arithon
'
s inner fibre! Could you sell out his helpless integrity while he
'
s unconscious?
'

Yet on that point, clan custom was adamant.
'
I cannot let Kyrialt
'
s death go for naught! My own gave himself to save Rathain
'
s blood-line! How could I cavil, when what
'
s asked of me is far less?
'
Since the naked blade in her hand was now trembling, Glendien rammed the steel into the scabbard.
'
Once, Arithon said the life of my husband outweighed his personal dignity. For his honour
'
s sake, should that choice be reversed?
'
Against Elaira
'
s horrified pain, she defended,
'
Would you let his Grace die? That
'
s unnatural jealousy! I
'
ve agreed with Dakar. The attempt must go forward. Forget personal sacrifice! This may be the last chance we have to save the descent of Rathain
'
s crown lineage.
'

Elaira looked, one to the other, and measured the tenor of raised opposition: Dakar, with his mussed clothing and smudged, moon-calf face far removed from the scapegrace buffoon. Then Glendien
'
s ripe and sensual allure, once defeated in a blazing assault against Arithon
'
s private will, and now reclothed in the razor-sharp mourning of a widow
'
s determination.

'
By Ath, you
'
re both serious.
'
Suspicion pricked through, that the adamant silence imposed by Sethvir
in cold fact may have been deliberate.
'
Tell me, Dakar! Has Althain
'
s Warden withdrawn his counsel on purpose?
'

Would
the Sorcerers gamble with her wounded pride, that a royal birth might be snatched from the cross-roads of choice set before her?

Yet the spellbinder lacked a Prime Matriarch
'
s connivance, to pour salt on the sting of her misery.
'
No. Elaira, I can
'
t lie. Not for this. The Warden bade me to bring us to Athir. Though I must speak for the weal of the land, whose power shall bid for Prince Arithon
'
s life will be left in your hands to decide.
'

'
My voice casts his lot? Between Fellowship directives and the machinations of Koriathain?
'
Elaira withstood the urge to shut her streaming eyes; crushed the howling need to go deaf before forcing her harrowed wits to probe further. Then Sethvir steered you to this ugly course to restore my love
'
s scattered awareness?
'

'
No.
'
Dakar found his courage and matched her regard.
'
The inspiration was mine. Once, at Rockfell Peak, I linked awareness with Kharadmon. Rathain was imperilled. Lent the Sorcerer
'
s insight, I observed as Arithon achieved a mastery that harnessed the lane tides. The imprint left me with the access to knowledge. In depth, I saw how the attuned tie at sanctioning binds a crown heir to the realm.
'

Beside him, Glendien listened, endurance pitched to withstand grieving loss in support of a need that held meaning.

'
That th
is accursed day had never arrived, or I had not been born to shoulder this sorrow, laid on me.
'
Elaira sat, shattered beneath the hurtful crux placed before her.
'
Leave us! I can
'
t bear your presence, or think!
'

The choice became hers. If Arithon was not to be abandoned to death, she must decree which way the brand of lasting betrayal fell on him: to serve love
'
s integrity, she must fulfil the vicious triumph of Selidie
'
s high-stakes conspiracy. The Prime
'
s implanted sigil would run its dire course, and a talented girl-child of her and Arithon
'
s private begetting would be bequeathed to a lifelong enslavement by Koriathain. Or she must forsake the priceless gift of his heart: let Glendien
'
s rape saddle him, or his offspring, with the burden of Rathain
'
s royal heritage, constrained under the law by the Fellowship.