The Rift War (16 page)

"I was only four years old," Emrillian murmured, as she and Baedrix trotted down the
tunnel to the Stronghold. "But I do remember this. A little."

"Just because you remember doesn't mean it's safe."

"You were born here. Doesn't that help you feel safe?" She wasn't sure if she should
laugh, or be irritated with him. At least they could ride, meaning the journey would only take an
hour or so, as opposed to half a day of walking. She would be at the door of the Stronghold in
just a few more minutes.

"The Stronghold is legend. Even though everyone in my family is born here doesn't
make it home."

"It is for me." She decided to be amused, because otherwise she might get into the habit
of being irritated. "The Queen of Snows is your great-great-grandmother. Doesn't that mean
anything?"

"I have never seen her."

"Technically, you have. She helped deliver you when you were born." Emrillian sighed,
remembering cuddling with a figure all in white, with warm arms and glowing green eyes full of
laughter. "She delivered me. She told me stories and gave me treats when Grandmama and
Mama weren't looking. She taught me about magic before I even knew what magic was."

"Isn't she a legend in your world?" He glanced up and yanked on the reins of his
stallion.

"
This
is my world." Emrillian shook her head when Baedrix opened his mouth
to contradict her--she could see it in his eyes. Their horses stopped in front of the thick wooden
door bound with star-metal. "Yes, I know, I grew up in Moerta, two thousand years away from
here, but I was born here, and my parents wait in the tunnel beneath the sea until Papa can
awaken. This is my world, more than Moerta." She dismounted.

The door shimmered, light spilling through the hair-fine gaps between the planks.
Emrillian held her breath, straining her ears for the music that was more felt like a gentle caress
than actually heard. She turned her gaze sideways, and laughed as a query to her identity scrolled
across the surface of the door, like a computer screen.

"What?" Baedrix demanded.

"You don't see--" She gestured at the door. From his frown, obviously he didn't. "I am
Emrillian Warhawk, daughter of Ynfara, of the bloodline of the Queen of Snows, descendant of
Mrillis the enchanter. I am daughter of Athrar Warhawk, bearer of Braenlicach. Please open for
me," she added, hearing in her memory Grandmama Glyssani coaching her in good
manners.

The doors parted and swung open. Light spilled down the spiraling stone stairs from
high above. Warm, rose-tinted light.

Emrillian considered tying up the horses for a moment, then laughed when she realized
that they had nowhere to go. They would stay with the light. Heart thumping before she took the
first step, she passed through the doorway. A shimmer in the air alerted her when she passed
through yet another magical safeguard.

"I'm home," she whispered, and thought she felt something in the air react to the sound.
Meghianna had shared with her, in a bedtime story, how she thought the Stronghold held so
many memories, so much magic, was so strongly imprinted with the personalities of every
Queen of Snows who had ruled there, that the entire complex was nearly aware, sentient.

"Highness--" Baedrix shook his head, and colored slightly when she turned to look at
him and saw he hesitated in the doorway. "Lady, I must trust you."

"This is your home, as well. She is your family." She held out her hand, with one foot
raised to take the first step in the long, spiraling stairs going upward into the Stronghold.
Emrillian waited until he swallowed hard, then grasped her hand.

Memories cascaded through her mind, making her shiver as they climbed higher.
Emrillian listened to those memories, and perhaps a whisper of instructions in the air, and
bypassed the first two landings. On the third landing, the door shimmered blue and green and
swung open before she put both feet on the flat surface in front of it.

The scroll and lamp insignia of the Stronghold filled the floor of the round room that
opened off the landing. Four hallways branched off the room, and benches lined the walls in
between the doorways. Emrillian stepped across the insignia and her legs buckled as light flashed
out from it, down the hallways. Something had touched her, tested her
imbrose
. For just
a moment, she felt fear. It took her breath away. There could be no danger here, in the place
where she had been born, where her beloved Aunt Meggi ruled.

"Lady?" Baedrix whispered, and released her hand to wrap an arm around her shoulders.
He moved to lead her to one of the benches.

"I'm all right." She offered him a smile, clenching her jaw to keep her lips from
trembling. She had no idea what had shaken her to her core. Happiness or fear or a mixture of
both?

"Indeed, she is more than right." A soft, rich, alto voice whispered down all four
hallways toward them.

"Aunt Meggi?" Emrillian stepped out of Baedrix's grasp and went down the hallway
second from the right. A nervous laugh burst from her. "Come out, come out, wherever you
are!"

Laughter rang down that hallway, and a white figure faded into view, wearing a vibrant,
dark blue belt and a matching scarf holding her long, white hair back from her face. She held out
her arms. Emrillian ran to her.

Halfway down the long hallway, maybe ten steps, she faltered when it occurred to her
that if Edrout wanted to harm her, tricking her into running into a trap, blinding her with longing,
was the best way. Emrillian shook off that doubt. Faith would make her strong, Mrillis had
taught her. Then she was in Meghianna's arms, laughing and crying, and feeling slightly
unbalanced by the fact that she was taller than her aunt by nearly two fingers' widths.

"Oh, my darling!" Meghianna's face glistened with tears, but she laughed and kissed
Emrillian's cheeks and forehead. Then they hugged hard again. "What I wouldn't give to pick
you up and swing you around like I used to. Do you remember?"

"When I thought I could fly, yes." Emrillian gasped a little when her aunt stepped back,
but Meghianna didn't leave her embrace.

"Oh, you are indeed all grown up. So tall. So strong. So beautiful. You will have all the
Valors of Quenlaque fighting to win your heart. That will be a very good tool. Don't you agree,
Grandson?" she added, turning to Baedrix, who had come down the hallway and now stood three
paces away, watching them, his face wrinkled in evident discomfort and awe.

"Lady?" He went down on one knee, and blushed darker when Meghianna's delighted
laughter rang out again.

"None of that. You are my family. There will be no kneeling by family in these halls.
Come. You are likely starving and I have had a delightful time making a meal for us. You can't
imagine how dreary it is, cooking for one for years on end." She beckoned.

When Baedrix didn't stand immediately, she reached back and grabbed hold of his hand,
nearly pulling him off-balance before he could get to his feet again. She hooked her arm through
Emrillian's and the three strode down the long hallway together.

"I remember that," Emrillian crowed, pointing at a mural that came to life as they
walked along its length. Ladies lounged in boats that rocked on a gentle sea while children dove
and swam and frolicked with fantastical sea creatures, all in jewel-toned paints.

"That was your favorite. You drove your mother--all of us, now that I think of it--to
distraction, demanding to be taken to the shore to play with the sea-folk." Meghianna shook her
head, her sparkling eyes making a lie of the sorrowful twist of her mouth. "You were distraught
when you realized that the bay below the Stronghold was too rocky and cold and dark for the
sea-folk to come play with you."

"I was only three. Give me some grace for foolishness and no sense of reality."

"Ah, yes, reality. How it intrudes." She nodded and the door ahead of them swung open.
"Hopes and dreams must bow to reality. Do you remember Garad, Emmi?"

"I adored him." She sighed, delighted when they stepped into the front room of
Meghianna's quarters. "I remember. It hasn't changed." She pointed at the forest scene tapestries
on the walls, the tall rack of scrolls between two doorways. Then she sniffed and choked. "I
remember that smell. Popperberry tarts!"

"Your favorite. You can't imagine how many I've picked and preserved over the years,
preparing for this day." Meghianna gestured at the short, round table in the center of the room,
and the thick floor cushions sitting around it. "You didn't know Garad as a grown man. Except
for his dark hair, Baedrix is his image. Or near enough, anyway, to fool those who remember
those days."

"I am, Lady?" Baedrix's eyes widened and he paused in the act of offering his hands to
help both women settle down on the cushions.

"We're going to have to break you of this silly formality." She winked at him.

Emrillian was delighted to see Baedrix blush again. Then a thought occurred to her.
"Could we us it, Aunt Meggi? The strong resemblance? If we lightened his hair? Did Edrout
know Garad, as a grown man?"

"It is more than possible, yes." Her smile faded and she pursed her lips, tipping her head
to one side as she studied Baedrix. "You're thinking of playing a trick? Distraction?"

"At the very least, it will unbalance him, perhaps long enough to give us an advantage."
Emrillian reached for the covered basket with thin streamers of steam escaping the loose weave.
"They don't have popperberries on Moerta. I drove Grandfather mad, begging for popperberry
cakes for my birthing-day celebration." She sighed in pure contentment as the sweet-sour, tangy
aroma rose from the first tart she picked from the basket.

"Do you have a sweetheart on Moerta?" Meghianna muffled a chuckle when Emrillian
dropped the tart. It broke, fragments of crust spattering out across her plate. "I loathe bringing it
up, but political marriages have been a vital strategy for generations."

"I considered offering my hand in marriage to win loyalty from the nobles who might
be...questionable."

"No, Highness." Baedrix sat down, putting her between him and Meghianna. He
punctuated his words with sharp tugs on his gauntlets, slapping them down on the floor next to
him. "They will only marry you to gain power. You are the Warhawk's heir. If not you, then your
child will rule after him. Don't give our enemies such a weapon and hope."

"And I am surprised Mrillis didn't teach you something even more important."
Meghianna picked up a pitcher that steamed and smelled of spiced wine, and handed it to
Baedrix to pour for them. "When it comes to beauty and marriage and political power, never
offer. Always make your uncertain allies and your suspected enemies beg. Make them come to
you, with promises and proofs of their loyalty and honor. And never make promises before they
make promises."

Emrillian nodded, understanding all the subtext of what her aunt said. She bit back the
comment that it would certainly be easier going to war with sword and shield and bow, rather
than navigating the political mazes and knotted treaties that would follow the war.

* * * *

Martus stared as the signal flame changed color before his eyes. The blue that had
dominated ever since Athrar's heir arrived had changed. Purple and red flickered up and down its
length, reaching to invade the azure heart.

Intruders. Invaders from the world and time beyond the tunnel. Not just the Rey'kil who
had raised Emrillian, or the allies Lord Mrillis said would be coming with them. The tint of the
light showed blood had been spilled. Someone had died.

Martus turned from the signal, his mouth dry. He hurried to the window and searched
the clearing around the tower for Ectrix. In the absence of the Regent, his brother and sister led
the Valors who remained at the tower.

If only there was a way to make contact with Lord Mrillis, Graddon the Seer, and the
heir herself.

* * * *

"My Lady?"

Grego swung around on his heel, hand automatically going to the sword at his hip,
startled by the hesitant voice that interrupted his walk with Eleanora and Ectrix. His throat hurt
and his head buzzed from his first session of teaching these Valors the bare essentials of what
life was like in the world outside the dome.

"Martus." Eleanora smiled and held out a hand to the Valor, whom Grego recognized as
being in charge of the Tower of Bo'Lantier, still entrusted with monitoring activity in the
tunnel.

Grego gripped his sword a little tighter, as a shiver of apprehension raced up his spine. If
Shalara and Karstis and the rest of their Archaics friends were coming down the tunnel--ahead of
schedule--Martus wouldn't have that grim look on his face.

"Lord Martus, I'm sorry. We should have included you in the lessons." She beckoned for
him to join their threesome.

"No, Lady!" Martus shook his head. "Thank the Estall I didn't leave my post." He
exchanged a look with Ectrix, and the boy stiffened, his face reflecting the apprehension Grego
felt. "The flame. It shows intruders in the tunnel. They should be among us by late morning." He
swallowed audibly.

"What about her majesty's servants and friends?"

"There are people with magic who approach, Lady, but some without. All in one group,
if I read the flame correctly."

"You do, Martus," Ectrix said. He moved over to stand with the older Valor, facing
Eleanora and Grego. "Nora, they could have been taken prisoner. We could be facing
invasion."

"The Science Directorate," Grego said. He almost felt relief, which made no sense. What
was the worst that could have happened? Kayn had caught Shalara and Karstis teaching the other
Archaics, took them prisoner, forced Liris to open the door to the tunnel, and now an entire
platoon of Directorate soldiers headed toward Moerta. He imagined they scraped star-metal from
the walls of the tunnel as they went, with a power siphon running at full power, draining magic
and converting it to energy with every meter they traveled.