The Rift War (22 page)

"Well done, Baedrix. They will not try such a trick again."

"Lady, where were you?" Baedrix wished his voice hadn't cracked so loudly. He
sounded like a nervous adolescent.

"I felt foul magic brewing in the dawn mists, and took myself off to seek its
source."

"Did you bring the rain?"

"No. Emrillian did." Her smile grew merry, eyes twinkling with mischief at Baedrix's
surprise. "Emrillian is Mrillis' granddaughter and my niece. What else would you have her do?
Let the fire burn, encircling and trapping her people? I am proud of you both, this day."

"Thank you, Grandmother," he murmured, feeling like a small boy who had somehow
both erred and triumphed.

"Did you find the source, Aunt Meggi?" Emrillian said, as she appeared out of the haze
of smoke, mist and rain. Her hood was thrown back, revealing her coif of mail. One arm of her
tunic had been slashed, showing the mail underneath. Smoke smudged her face.

Baedrix saw blood spatter across one leg and up her side, clear indication of a fierce
encounter that she had evidently won. Her eyes sparkled with excitement, her cheeks were red
with effort and she breathed heavily from exertion. She looked whole and alive, and entirely in
control of the situation as she stood in her stirrups to survey the clearing battlefield. He had an
urge to lift her to his saddle and inspect her to make sure she was unharmed.

"There is more magic than when we came through here yesterday." Meghianna shook
her head, frowning.

"Our charade failed, then? Edrout?" Emrillian's voice quavered a little before tightening
as she shifted from dismay to angry resolve. Baedrix understood and felt some reassurance at
that reaction. He would have been more worried if she had been too confident.

"Either that, or the rebels have found stores of star-metal and know how to use it. Those
last years before we raised the dome were chaotic, and fools were running amok, either stealing
and hoarding star-metal, or throwing it in the sea in the vain hope of destroying all magic in the
world." She shook her head and turned to look toward the coast and Quenlaque. "The worst
enemies are the ones who wear friendly faces, and are willing to wait generations for their
victory. I would guess, Grandson, that some among your nobles want to make sure Emrillian
does not take her father's throne."

"You have my oath, Highness, that you will arrive safely home in Quenlaque, to be
crowned and to see all your enemies kneel before you," Baedrix said, gripping his sword's hilt
and raising his other hand to emphasize his words.

"Home is the Stronghold. Quenlaque...is an unknown world, in too many ways." She
exchanged a weary, wry smile with Meghianna.

"Then if you wish, I will ride beside you and tell you all about the castle and the people
who live there, so it will be familiar territory before you ride through the gates." He held out his
hand as he made his offer. Warmth flooded him when she hesitated just a little to put her gloved
hand into his. Her smile when she met his eyes again was shy like a child's.

"Thank you, my lord. That will help more than you can imagine."

* * * *

Carious and the main body of Valors departed less than an hour after the ambush,
heading for Quenlaque. Emrillian suspected Baedrix felt a little more comfortable with their
numbers reduced, because they would be a smaller target, harder to spot. She wondered how he
would be feeling when Meghianna had left them and taken her recruits down the tunnel back to
the Stronghold. When it was just their small company heading inland, toward the place where the
first Emrillian had been when she hid the Zygradon Would he worry more, or less?

She supposed it all depended on how soon Edrout realized what they were doing out
among the forests and the abandoned sites of villages and manor houses and estates. Karstis and
Grego would ride with them on their hunt, and Pellen, and two other Valors who seemed to be
more eloquent with their horses and swords than with words. It seemed a pitifully small number,
especially if Edrout brought large numbers against them. Emrillian knew what Mrillis would say,
if she contacted him through the Threads and confessed her own uneasiness. He would tell her to
trust in the Estall, in the training he had given her, and in Braenlicach.

How much good would possession of the star-metal sword do them, if it wouldn't burn
and sing for her when she needed its magic and power the most?

Keeping busy, learning, preparing for trouble was the best tactic for battling fears, as
Mrillis had always maintained. Emrillian rode further up the column, leaving Meghianna to her
students and their lessons, to ride with Baedrix and resume her own lessons about the Quenlaque
that existed now.

* * * *

"It's an insidious thing," Baedrix admitted. He turned to check the progress of their
company, then met Emrillian's eyes again. She saw concern on his face, making momentary
wrinkles around his eyes. He smiled ruefully. "Indeed, Lady, I wish you had contained your
questions to the castle and not asked about the rebels. The conversation would have been more
pleasant."

"Pleasant, yes...but it is better for us all if I know what I face." She glanced away when
it seemed his eyes penetrated too deeply, as if he could see the romantic schoolgirl longings
stirring in her soul.

Eleanora had told her about Naylia. Although her new friend obviously didn't think
much of Baedrix's dead wife, Emrillian knew he had to still feel some loss. She felt sorry for
him, and knew he wouldn't appreciate being the object of silly, romantic dreams. Even if he was
deliciously handsome and dark and intense. Everything a princess could want.

"When were the first signs of rebellion?" she asked, yanking her thoughts back on
track.

"Looking back with clear vision, I realize it began in my father's youth. But the incidents
were so small, so scattered...no one realized. At first, they were simple things, with easy
explanations. Bad harvests, bad roads, too much work on an estate, all making the tribute
delivery late or making it impossible for the required allotment of soldiers to take their turn
patrolling the Wayhauk Mountains. When my father was killed, and the enemy botched their
effort to make it look like an accident, I grew suspicious. Of everything," he added on a
sigh.

"I checked the tribute records, and found the same lords were tardy in their duty.
Progressively later every year. When I sent Valors to enforce the tribute and investigate the
status of the estates, the rebellion became more visible."

"They knew that you knew, or at least suspected, so they felt no need to hide their
activities?" she hazarded.

"Exactly." Baedrix gazed ahead at the forest path ahead of them.

Emrillian was delighted that he forgot his courtly manners and treated her like a
co-worker.

"The tributes came in relatively on schedule, but bands of unmarked Valors and
common warriors appeared as time went on, stronger and more visible, harassing the people.
They vanish into the grasslands and mountains, no way of tracking them, and no mark or insignia
on their armor or arms to identify them. We have our suspicions, but no proof to bring them to
justice."

"If you pressed charges against everyone who was late, who couldn't offer valid excuses
for slights and failures, you would punish the innocent with the guilty," she said, thinking aloud.
It irritated her a little that at the back of her mind, more and more as Baedrix explained the
situation she was riding into, she kept asking herself what Mrillis would think, what he would
advise. Hadn't he said she was ready to face her duty and hold Quenlaque for her father's return?
Wasn't she betraying his trust and training, by leaning on him this way?

"Exactly." Baedrix glanced at her. Emrillian thought his smile had a wry touch. "Lord
Mrillis taught you well, Lady. Forgive me for being patronizing."

"Hardly patronizing, Lord Baedrix. I am an unknown quantity and you have been
trained to take tender care of ladies, so they do not have to dirty their hands over anything
strenuous, mind or body." She relaxed when a few chuckles escaped him.

"The rebellious lords will find more than a match in you, Lady."

"Perhaps. Have you given any other thought to ways of trapping them?"

"Many sleepless nights," he admitted. "There might be a way, but it will take time,
perhaps years into your reign. If the traitors are not destroyed in the battle with Edrout and the
Moertan invaders. Those who claim to be unable to come to welcome you or attend the
coronation--both truth and lie--will be given a chance to pledge loyalty at the fall tournaments.
Some false lords will take the oath then, having made enough of a stand against you by not being
here at the first. Those who do not pledge, we will watch carefully, keeping record of all they do.
At the first chance, we will have them."

"And for the others?"

"I admit, I have been waiting for Lord Mrillis' return, to ask his advice." He would not
meet her eyes as he spoke.

"There is no need to be ashamed, Lord Baedrix. My father depended on my grandfather
quite heavily. As I shall. As I already depend on you." Emrillian caught her breath as he turned
back to her, relief and other unidentifiable emotions bright and strong in his eyes. Suddenly, he
rode all too close to her.

* * * *

"Emmi..." Grego offered a crooked smile as he sat down by the fire where Emrillian
and Karstis had been conferring over the next group of recruits they would try to bring over from
Moerta.

When Meghianna and her students left them, their party had headed south and further
east, going into territory that had been allowed to grow wild. In the years after the mass
evacuation of Lygroes to Moerta and the raising of the dome, settlements had moved closer
around Quenlaque and away from the Wayhauk Mountains. Wild animals roamed freely and
plentifully among the ruins of villages and sizable towns and manor houses.

Their small party had made camp in the ruins of a sizable estate, with their cooking fire
in a relatively clear area that had probably been the greensward between the stables and guard
barracks, servants' quarters and the manor house. No one considered going into the vine-choked
ruins. There was something chilling about the dark bulk of slumped buildings, an eeriness that
made her feel as if something malevolent lay waiting, watching, preparing to leap out and
swallow them all in one gulp. She knew it was only her imagination, because Pellen and Tarran
had gone inside and checked for animals or people hiding in the warren of rooms. They chose to
put the ruins behind them to guard their backs, and camp under the clear night sky.

"Is something wrong?" she said, pushing those niggling thoughts out of her mind again.
Just the three of them were at the fire. Baedrix, and the others were busy with the horses and
checking their supplies.

"I was just thinking, maybe it's time you put the armor on. Just in case. Since there aren't
that many of us. How hard would it be for Edrout to realize you're you, that you're grown up and
not a little girl?" Grego said, looking into the fire rather than at her.

For a moment, she almost said 'what armor?' and then realized he meant her star-metal
armor. Her face heated and she almost laughed at her obliviousness.

"She's wearing armor," Karstis said, looking back and forth between them.

"Regular armor."

"Not regular. Master Illis told me--" He grinned and shook his head. "It's going to take
me a long time to get used to this. Mrillis told me there was star-metal woven through it. That
has to give you an advantage. As if you don't have enough with Braenlicach."

"Possessing Braenlicach didn't help my father in that last battle," she said, and felt her
shoulders hunching as a small churning started in her middle.

"She has an entire suit of armor made of star-metal," Grego said. "I think--"

"An entire suit?" Baedrix said, stepping into the firelight. He stared at Emrillian as he
came around the other two men and settled on one of the crumbling benches they had pulled out
of the ruins. "Made of star-metal?" He visibly shuddered.

"I felt the same way, when she first proposed making it," Grego said. "It's bound to her,
as its maker and its owner. It feeds and shields her, and probably will burn anyone who tries to
steal it." He grasped her wrist, emphasizing his words. "What good will it do you if you don't
wear it? How much time do you think you'll have to put it on, next time Edrout attacks?"

"You're right." Emrillian folded up the sheet of parchment she and Karstis had been
writing on. She wished for the thousandth time she had a datapad to record everything instead of
fussing with a dozen pieces of parchment or wax tablets, and braced herself to stand and go for
her armor. Her legs and bottom ached more than she liked to admit, after such a long day in the
saddle, and it hurt to stand.

"Why don't we sense that much star-metal, if you have an entire suit of the armor?"
Baedrix offered her his hand with a smile. She suspected he knew how much she ached, how
stiff she had grown after sitting for only an hour.

"That was one of the first guarding spells Grandfather taught me. It collects all that
concentrated magical energy, hiding it and feeding my
imbrose
at the same time." She
muffled a groan and stood up straight.

"You're a great friend," Karstis said, thumping Grego in the shoulder. "Making the poor
girl move when she'd rather just lie down and die until morning."

"Why aren't you sore, too?" she shot back, and gladly leaned on Baedrix's arm. At least
he wasn't laughing at her.

"I spend almost every rest-day in the saddle, when I'm not at tournaments." Karstis
hooked a thumb over at their pile of gear, neatly stacked in the shadows between them and their
horses. "Which bag is it in? I'll get if for you."

"The long, dark green duffle."