The Prince of Exiles (The Exile Series) (46 page)

He shouldered open the door and almost fell on his face. He caught himself just in time, and realized he was breathing raggedly. He tried to take another step, but found he couldn’t. So he took a deep breath and shouted.

“KERI!”

The yell reverberated in the hall around him, causing a number of Healers to dash out of doors and look toward him in shock.

“I NEED ELDER KERI!”

His nerves were frayed, his strength nearly gone. He wouldn’t give Leah to anyone else; it had to be Keri.

They should never have touched her.

“
WHERE IS ELDER KERI?!”

“Here!”

He looked up in surprise and saw that the motherly Elder had approached him, was motioning quickly for Healers to grab a gurney.

“Quickly, Raven,” Keri said to him. “Tell me what happened to her.”

“Tiffenal stabbed her, she lost a lot of blood,” he said thickly. “A doctor from Roarke sewed her up, but she’d been bleeding for a long time. The doctor said the cut hit her kidney, but he said he took care of it – you have to make sure she’s all right though. She lost so much blood … she can’t … you have to help her.”

“I will,” Keri said, “I will. Stay here – let someone tend to that cut on your face. It needs to be washed and cleaned.”

Healers took Leah from him and put her on the gurney and rushed her away. Raven reached up numbly to his cheek and felt crusted blood where Tiffenal had cut him. He must be a gruesome sight – half of his face was a cracked mask of crusted scabs.

A Healer took him to the side and tended to him, cleaning the wound, as more people began to filter into the hospital, the first wave of those from Roarke. Some had burns, others severe frostbite. Some were coughing incessantly, the smoke having burned their lungs; others had been wounded by falling debris in the city, still more by sheer exhaustion and shock.

“You’re good to go,” the Healer told him when he’d finished cleaning the cut. “It was a clean slice, and not deep. There’s no need for stitches as long as you keep it clean and covered.”

He left, and Raven turned and made his way out the doors, not knowing where else to go. On the steps of the hospital he saw a huge form.

“Raven!”

He felt himself suddenly engulfed in Tomaz’s arms, and he felt again the desire to both laugh and cry. Either seemed appropriate.

“Where’s Leah?” he asked quickly, shaking Raven. “Where is she?”

“I – I brought her in,” he said haltingly. His thoughts were coming slow and thick, making it hard to grasp them and form them into any sense of coherency. “I gave her to Keri. She’s being cared for. She was wounded … but they say she’ll recover. She will. She’ll be fine.”

“Oh … oh good,” Tomaz said, his rough face deeply lined with worry. There were dark shadows under his eyes, and he looked as though he hadn’t slept in weeks.

“I’m so sorry,” he rumbled. “I held on giving you strength for as long as I could, but in the end I lost consciousness. It’s good I didn’t come with you, the strength you were pulling from me left me barely able to stand. And the farther away you got, the harder it was to keep the connection going. In the end … I’m sorry.”

“Don’t worry,” Raven said thickly, smiling weakly. “It got us through the worst of it. It got us to the other side of the mountains. If we hadn’t been there, these people might all have died in that blizzard.”

“You, Leah, and Autmaran saved an entire city,” Tomaz rumbled. “I just wish I could have been there to help you.”

“Me too,” Raven said with a heavy sigh, feeling weighted down by so much. “But it’s okay … I just need some sleep. A few hours, and then I can face this all again. But not yet … not until I sleep.”

“You can’t yet,” Tomaz rumbled to him and Raven looked up, confused.

“Why not?”

“Autmaran sent out the Call.”

“He … what?”

“He’s gathering a Forum.”

 
“No,” Raven said. “No he can’t – not after what just happened. We just lost Roarke! He’s not even back in the city yet!”

“I think losing the city may be why he’s doing it,” Tomaz rumbled. “And he galloped in just after you. The rest of the group is filtering in, though that doesn’t matter. The Call is for the citizens of Vale, not for the citizens of Roarke. We have to go. We have to hear him out.”

Raven nodded numbly, and found himself following in the giant’s footsteps. He was so tired he could barely stand, but he knew he had to go hear what was being said.

“What about Leah?” He asked.

“You took her to the Healers,” Tomaz reminded him, looking concerned. “Don’t you remember?”

“Oh – yes,” he said. He shook his head to clear it – that helped a little. He wished he could have some of the
kaf
from Goldwyn’s manor.

Shadows and light … he’s gone. Who will lead us when the Empire invades?

And then he understood the full measure of his brother’s actions; the Fox had not only taken Goldwyn, he’d destroyed the illusions, the one thing preventing a full-scale Imperial invasion, the Exiles’ last line of defense.

The Kindred are dead.

Soon, in a haze of stunned, forgotten memory, Raven found himself at the Odeon. Many of the Kindred of Vale had already gathered, and more were coming in now from outside the city. They had brought some of the Roarkemen with them – the common citizens as well as the soldiers. In fact, all who didn’t need medical care seemed to be making their way into the space. Soon the stadium was filled, thousands upon thousands waiting to hear Autmaran speak.

And center stage, on a simple pyre, was the body of Elder Goldwyn.

A lump rose up in Raven’s throat as he looked at that body, and he felt once again a deep, overwhelming sorrow. But before he could get lost in his thoughts once more, there was motion down below as a figure detached itself from the gathered crowd.

The solemn silence deepened as Autmaran crossed the threshold of the stage. He hadn’t waited for the Elders to announce him – it looked as if only half of them were present: Crane, Ishmael, Spader, Lymaugh, Pan and the Dragon Lady. Keri was at the hospital, the others probably helping with the refugees.

Autmaran strode right past them. He was still in his smoke-stained armor, his dark skin made darker with soot. Something seemed to radiate from him, something dangerous and powerful. All traces of self-consciousness were gone, all vestiges of doubt.

“When I last stood before you,” he called out, fury and rage radiating from him in almost palpable waves, “I spoke of three things.”

No one said a word. Not a single person moved.

“I stood here and I said that
now, NOW,
was our time to act!”

Raven felt shame welling up in him, and grief, burning his eyes and pounding against his chest. He was unable to look away from Autmaran, even though he desperately wanted to, even though he wanted to forget about everything that had happened.

“I spoke of the castle of Roarke, and the city around it. I spoke of the abundant resources we now had at our disposal – I spoke of a new addition to the Lands of the Kindred, I spoke of new Exiles that, if shown our ways, could not help but be converted to our cause. I spoke of the illusions that protected us, I spoke of the proof we had that the Children were mortal, I spoke of
hope
and
security
in a free life we have never been allowed to live!”

Kindred around the Odeon had begun to weep.

“Now,” Autmaran said, contempt lifting the corners of his upper lip, “I can speak of it no more.”

He turned, pulled off his sheathed sword, and slammed it to the floor beside Goldwyn’s body. It shook them all, and Raven felt his breathing become ragged.

Autmaran spun back to them, walking the entire stage, filling the Odeon.

“I spoke of the Children, thrown back on their heels, forced to combat their own mortality! Now, after
five hundred years
of invincibility, one of them is dead, and we have taken his Talisman!”

He whirled and pointed to Goldwyn, and Raven saw tears in his eyes.

“I spoke of the General who could lead us!”

This was almost a sob, the words coming out in a rush of sound that bit off as he tried to hold his composure.

“I spoke of a man, the likes of which we will not see again in a thousand years. A man of both compassion and strength! A man who was more a father to me, and to the Kindred, than most other men are to their own flesh and blood!”

The tears that had gathered in his eyes began to roll down the man’s dark cheeks, and his body shook with anger.

“He was taken from us, because
we didn’t act!
”

His voice was so harsh it seemed to tear free of his throat like a spear thrown at each of them, a lethal shout of accusation.

“He was taken because we sat back and told ourselves that we could never change our lives. He was taken because we
feared
what would happen if we acted! He was taken because of
us!”

Autmaran was shaking, only barely in control of himself. But as they watched, he took a deep, solemn breath, and everyone in the gathered audience breathed with him.

“And so I stand here before you again,” he finished, piercing them all with a defiant stare, “to call for a Prince of the Veil.”

Silence greeted his words – none of the Kindred dared to speak.

He turned and motioned violently to the Elders. Crane, his face impassive but his eyes full of sorrow, looked to the others, and one by one they nodded.

“We will meet tomorrow to vote,” Crane announced.

Autmaran moved forward in anger, but Crane stood up to his full height, and light and power blazed from his eyes.

“This is a day and a night of mourning,” said the Wise Elder, “and we will spend it honoring the memory of William Goldwyn.”

Autmaran stood there as if ready to challenge the man, but the moment passed and the tension left him. He bowed his head.

“Tonight we mourn,” he agreed.

The Kindred let out a collectively held breath and the Forum was ended. Raven found himself being led away from the Odeon by Tomaz, who seemed to know that now was not the time to talk. He led him out of the city, back to his cabin, where Raven fell onto his bed and slept for most of the day. Tomaz returned that night to wake and feed him, and they went together to the Odeon and watched as Goldwyn’s corpse was burned on the pyre.

“Why are you burning him?” Raven asked Tomaz. “I thought it was Kindred custom to bury their dead.”

“It is,” Tomaz said. “But the Elders are burned. Their bodies are connected to the
sambolin
, and it is only when they go through fire that the spell is broken. I wanted them to wait for Leah … but we have to cut the connection. We don’t know what Tiffenal can do with it.”

Raven nodded and was silent.

Most of the officers who had served with the Elder were gathered around the pyre. When the flame died down they stood and went to it, and each said their final words. Davydd Goldwyn was there, and he wept openly. He left as soon as he had spoken his final words to his father, and Lorna went with him, both seeking refuge in the night.

Autmaran was the last, and after he’d finished speaking he stood and watched Goldwyn’s body for a long time. And then, abruptly, he turned and scanned the crowd.

His eyes fell on Raven, and he approached.

Tomaz saw this and stepped forward, putting himself partially in front of Raven; he didn’t know what Autmaran was planning to do. The man looked as if he’d been through hell and back, which Raven knew was close to true. But when the Major reached them he didn’t try to push past Tomaz; his earlier rage was gone, cooled and hardened into something sharp that he could control.

“I will call on you tomorrow,” Autmaran said without preamble. “I will call on you to take the Veil. You are the Prince we need.”

Raven said nothing, only stared into the blaze below, feeling hollow and empty inside. He couldn’t meet the Major’s eyes – they were too full of emotion. It was too raw to look at – like light coming off the sun.

“I
will
call on you tomorrow,” Autmaran said more forcefully. “You do not have a choice. I will nominate you. You are the only one here who can fight the Empire, and you know that. You cannot run anymore – none of us can.”

Raven did look at him then, knowing these words mirrored the thoughts he’d had not so long ago.

“Last time,” Autmaran continued, “you did not accept the nomination. You were not ready, so I was told.”

Raven took a deep breath.

“I am now.”