Chapter III
“The Heir to the Throne”
For a second Alirah’s words hung in the air. Kelorn stared at her in astonishment. He stammered into the silence.
“Um…. What? You will?”
Before she could answer him, almost everyone else in the tent began to speak at once. Kaya cried No! in alarm. Alirah dimly heard her brother telling her not to be absurd. Two or three of the Kwi’Kiri elders began to speak in their own language, but she didn’t catch their words. Then Nuara shot to her feet. Her darkling eyes were wide and her face was white.
“You most certainly will not!”
“Well somebody has to go with him!” cried Alirah.
“No they don’t! He came out here on his own, didn’t he? He can go back on his own. And even if someone were to go with him, it certainly wouldn’t be you!”
“Well Dad won’t go, and I think he’s right not to. Elidan has a family now and Kaya’s too young. It has to be me!”
Nuara could only stare. Her mouth hung open as if she’d realized halfway through a conversation that she was talking to a lunatic. Next to her Ethyrin rose slowly to his feet and turned to gaze at his daughter. Everyone else in the tent followed his lead. Ethyrin’s gaze was grave and searching, but everyone else gaped at Alirah as if she’d sprouted a second head. Alirah felt herself blushing deeper and deeper.
“Look,” she went on, desperately. “You know I’ve always wanted to go somewhere, anyhow. And Dad was just saying he wished he could send me to… where is it... Illmaryn? So the priestesses there could help me learn to control the Sight. I don’t want to keep having these awful visions all the time.”
To her relief, a wry grin spread over Ethyrin’s face. He laughed. “I didn’t mean tonight, Sweetheart. And there’s a reason I only wished I could send you there. It’s far away and the road is not safe.”
“No it isn’t,” exclaimed Kelorn, suddenly. “And I’m not going to lead a young girl back along it into danger.”
“I’m not a young girl,” said Alirah, indignantly. “I’m not twelve! I can take care of myself.”
“Against what?” cried Kelorn. He gestured at his own hurt shoulder and leg. “Do you think I got hurt by accident? They were grown men, warriors, who tried to kill me!”
“I know that! I just sat here and listened to your story, didn’t I? And I also know how to wield a sword.”
Kelorn snorted.
“I do!”
“Calm down, both of you!” said Ethyrin. His eyes were twinkling with laughter, but none of it showed in his voice. “No one is going anywhere tonight. Kelorn, I have taught my daughter all that I know of swordsmanship. It isn’t a whole lot, I’ll grant you; but it isn’t nothing either. And you, Alirah, are smart enough to know that wielding a sword in practice and actually facing a man in battle are two different things. Now it’s getting late, and I suggest we all retire. There’ll be time enough for more talk tomorrow.”
His tone of voice left no room for argument. A few of the Kwi’Kiri elders said some polite goodbyes and filed out of the tent. One of them joined Ethyrin in leading Kelorn away; the young Druid was to stay under the care of the pana’s healers. Alirah watched them all go. Kaya gave her shoulders a comforting squeeze, but she looked terrified and she said nothing.
“I always knew you were nuts,” said Elidan as he walked out. “See you tomorrow, Sis.”
At last she stood alone in the tent with Nuara, who was still staring at her.
“What’s the matter with you?” she asked.
“Nothing, Mom! I just…”
“Don’t give me nothing! Are you really going to ask me to believe that you just decided this evening, on a whim, that you’d go running off alone with a stranger, a man, and travel halfway across the world to a place you’ve never been to before?”
“He needs help. Arandia needs help.”
“From you?”
“Why not from me!” cried Alirah. “Everyone’s reacting like I’m a silly little girl who has no idea what she’s saying! I’m grown up, Mom. I’m eighteen years old!”
“For six days,” muttered Nuara.
Alirah plowed on unheeding. “I am a princess of Arandia just as much as Dad is a prince, or a king. That man, Kelorn, came here looking for help. Dad says he won’t leave the pana now when it’s in danger, and that if he goes back there he’ll start a war and he doesn’t want to do that. I think he’s right. I can’t tell you why, but I feel it in my heart. So if any help is going to come back with Kelorn, it’s going to have to be me. And I do want to see Arandia. And I do want to talk to those priestesses if there’s anything they can do to help me! I’m tired of screaming in fear of things that aren’t even there!”
“And I don’t want to lose my daughter!” cried Nuara.
Alirah felt like she’d been struck. She blinked away sudden tears and her voice quivered. “I… But… You won’t.”
Nuara shook her head and waved a hand dismissively. For many quick heartbeats she gazed down and away, either at the floor of the tent or else far off and into the past. At last she drew a long, shuddering breath and looked up again. She smiled wanly, but tears still leaked from her eyes. She stepped forward and with arms that trembled she drew her daughter into a fierce embrace.
“Go to bed,” she said huskily. “We will talk more in the morning, like your father says.”
Nuara kissed her forehead and then strode quickly from the tent. Alirah was left standing alone in the dim space. A whirlwind of thoughts buffeted her. How can I go and leave my mother and father and everyone I know behind? How can I let them worry so? How can I not go when everything depends on it? But what depends on it? What do I know about Arandia or anything going on there, other than a vision and a feeling that aren’t really mine?
Out of pure habit, ingrained in all the children of the Kwi’Kiri, she doused the little fire before she wandered out of the tent, but she did not remember doing so afterwards. She shuffled back to the tent she shared with Kaya and a couple of other girls in a daze. When she crept inside she found her little sister already lying still and feigning sleep. Alirah lay down herself and closed her eyes, but she could not fall asleep for a long time. A faint blue glow in the eastern sky spoke of the dawn before exhaustion finally snared her, and she fell into troubled dreams.
Ethyrin and Nuara may have spoken together the next morning, and they may have spoken to Kelorn, but nobody spoke with Alirah. In fact she did not even see any of them until late the next day. Word had spread overnight that the panas were to depart in two days’ time. Alirah had hardly woken up before she found herself pressed into packing duty. The whole day swept by in a long string of chores: packing up food, filling water jugs, shaking out mats and striking down tents. Only when the sun had sunk again to the low western horizon did she see her mother emerge from the healers’ tent, looking pale and drawn. Alirah hastened after her at once, but her mother would say little.
“He is resting,” said Nuara. Your father and I have worn him out with talk. Now the two of us need to speak together. Unless, of course, you came to tell me that you’ve come to your senses?”
“Of course not! I…”
“I thought not. Then get back to work. Kelorn’s not going anywhere at least until the pana moves out. He probably shouldn’t go anywhere even then, but he’s young and stubborn like you are.”
Nuara hurried away with a wrathful look, and Alirah did not dare to press her further.
The next day passed in a slow torment of anxiety. The news that Kelorn had been attacked by Taragi scouts within three days’ ride had spread. Now everyone in the encampment hovered on the edge of alarm. Alirah did not see much of either her parents or Kelorn, and when she did see them they were all together. Once or twice she tried to approach them, but she was immediately sent away with flat stares and stern orders to go help with another chore. After a
while she concluded, furiously, that they all just meant to avoid her until Kelorn had ridden away and left her behind.
Late in the afternoon she found herself suddenly with no work to do and with a painfully rumbling stomach. Indignant and smoldering with anger, she had no desire to sit down to eat with anyone else. Instead she collected a few bits of hard cheese, cold lamb, and warm rounds of flatbread from one of the grandmothers who’d taken on cooking duty while the encampment was torn down. Alirah wrapped the food up in a faded cloth napkin and strode off on her own.
East of the encampment the land rose in a long, gentle slope. Where it met the horizon, a few weathered slabs of sandstone rose out of the grass, as if in imitation of pale buttes which rose far in the distance. With her thoughts wandering elsewhere Alirah made her way to those rocks, intending to sit and think while she ate alone. She’d reached the outcropping and turned about to sit down, when she saw that Kaya was not four yards behind her. Alirah jumped in alarm and stifled a cry.
Kaya’s eyes had been cast down at her feet. Now she too gasped and looked up suddenly, as if startled herself. It took her a moment to figure out why Alirah had jumped, then she hung her head again.
“Oh… Sorry.”
“What are you doing out here?” demanded Alirah.
“I wanted to talk to you.”
“You don’t think, maybe, since I walked a quarter of a mile out of the camp all by myself, that I wanted to be alone?”
Kaya scowled and her brown eyes flashed. She pitched her voice a trifle lower in imitation of Alirah’s. “You don’t think, maybe, with what you said the other night, that I don’t care?”
Alirah glared down at her for a moment. Then, unbidden, she recalled the terrified look in her sister’s eyes in the Council Tent. She colored faintly and sighed.
“Well… okay then. But I’m going to eat.”
She sat down upon the smooth stone and motioned for Kaya to sit down beside her. Kaya took a deep breath and did so. She moved as she always did: carefully, almost primly, and quiet as a mouse.
“I need to get you a bell or something,” muttered Alirah. She unwrapped her small picnic and rolled a piece of the lamb up in the lukewarm flatbread, then devoured it like a hungry wolf-cub. As she was licking her fingers clean she saw Kaya gazing with longing at the remaining food. She heard her sister’s belly give its own growl.
“Haven’t you had anything to eat?”
“At breakfast,” mumbled Kaya.
Alirah could not suppress an even heavier sigh. “Okay… here.”
Carefully she divided her remaining food between them, making sure to give Kaya extra for the roll she’d already eaten. For the next few minutes they both devoted themselves to serious, silent eating. The rapidly dwindling encampment lay spread out before their eyes. By then many of the tents had been taken down and most of the wagons had been packed. A light breeze coming out of the west bore with it a few white puffballs of cloud, but there seemed to be no real threat of rain. Many in the pana were opting to sleep under the stars that night so as to have less work to do in the morning.
“Are you really going to go away with that man?” asked Kaya, at last.
Her voice was little more than a whisper, but fraught with emotion. Alirah felt a fresh stab of guilt. Like her sister she stared fixedly ahead, seeing nothing.
“I don’t know.”
“But you mean to go, right?”
“If he’ll have me. If Mom and Dad will let me go.”
Kaya made a small sound of exasperation and anguish. “Why?”
“Because he needs help…”
Kaya snorted.
“And what’s so funny about that?”
“Oh come on! How are you going to help him? What are you going to do if you go with him?”
“I don’t know!” cried Alirah in return, becoming angry. “But I’m sure that he and his people need help. And they’re our people too, as much as the Kwi’Kiri are. I’m sure I’m supposed to go help them! I’ve been sure of it since I heard his story. I think it must be the Sight telling me so.”
“Well that’s handy,” muttered Kaya.
Alirah leapt to her feet, indignant. “Handy? You think it’s handy? I’ll remember how handy it is next time I’m screaming in terror of something that isn’t even there! You think I like seeing these things, or knowing these things without knowing how or why? You think I want to ride away now and travel halfway across the world with a stranger?”
“Yes!” Kaya jumped to her feet in turn. “Yes I do! You’re always running off without stopping to think. You’re always talking about going away somewhere and seeing the world.” She pitched her voice lower again. “Don’t you ever want to go and see what’s out there? See more of the world than some little grassy hills a hundred leagues from anywhere? And now a cute young man show’s up and you’re all ready to run off with him just like that…”
“Why you little… I am not running off with him! And who says he’s cute? What’s gotten into you?”
“I… I… I don’t want you to go.”
Suddenly Kaya’s voice broke. Her hot anger vanished. Only grief and fear were left in its place. She trembled, and tears glistened in her eyes. Alirah’s own wrath fled just as quickly. Tears started in her own eyes as she drew her sister into a tight embrace. Kaya felt small and thin in her arms, and she shook as she sobbed.
“Hey…” Alirah began.
“I just don’t want you to leave,” Kaya whispered.
“It’s not forever. I’ll come back,” she said, her voice soft but ardent.
“Will you? What if they make you a queen there? What if somehow… somewhere… you die?”
“They won’t,” Alirah promised. “And I’m not going to die!”
At that moment they heard their brother Elidan’s voice ring out in the distance.
“Hey! Are you two alright? What’s up?”
Immediately the girls separated. Alirah looked back down toward the encampment. Elidan had strode out a little distance toward them, though he was still a hundred yards away.
“Yeah!” Alirah called back, automatically.
“Nothing!” cried Kaya at the same instant. A sniffle rang audibly in her voice, but it may not have carried so far through the breezy air. Elidan gazed at them both for a long moment. His body language betrayed suspicion even at a distance, but at last he shrugged and shook his head.
“Well, quit standing around then! Does it look like all the work’s done?”
“I don’t know, you seem to have nothing to do,” called Alirah. Elidan waved a hand at them in annoyance, but turned back toward the camp himself without any further comments.
To Kaya, Alirah said quietly, “Come on. We should get back. And try not to look like you’ve been crying or he’ll never leave us alone.”
Together they started back down toward the encampment. For the first time in several years Kaya sought out Alirah’s hand and held it while they walked.
“A cute young man,” murmured Alirah after a minute. “Well I guess I’d better run off with him then, if only to get him away from you.”
Kaya blushed like a rose but said nothing.
The last few hours of the afternoon passed all too quickly. Alirah wracked her brain trying to come up with a ploy by which she could confront her parents without making a scene in front of the whole pana, but she came up with nothing. Before she knew it, night was falling. Stars winked into existence one at a time until they filled the darkening sky. Fires were kindled, and the scents of roasting meat and simmering stews filled the air. Everywhere families and friends gathered around the little fires for a last hot meal before the morning’s departure. Breakfast would be eaten cold and quickly with the dawn.
Once more Alirah sought out her parents, but once more she sought in vain. She guessed they were hidden away inside Kelorn’s tent again, for she did not see the young Druid
anywhere either. She ended up sitting down to eat with Elidan and his wife, Calli, and their baby.
At last full darkness descended and sleep settled over the encampment. In an anxious haze Alirah retreated to her own tent. Except for Kaya, her tent-mates were already asleep and snoring softly. Kaya lay still and silent upon her mat, but again Alirah could tell she was only pretending to sleep.
She means to keep an eye on me, Alirah realized with annoyance.
In the dark she lay down upon her own mat. Slumber remained far away. Midnight came, and all sounds outside the tent faded except for the whispering of the wind in the high grass.
How dare they? she thought angrily to herself. So they don’t want me to go, fine. But they won’t even tell me so to my face? They just hide away with that Druid and make sure I can’t talk to him myself? Do they really think tomorrow morning I’ll just wake up and think, ‘Oh what a stupid idea I had?’ And… And what right do they have to stop me from going, anyway? I’m eighteen years old!
A small voice in the back of her mind mumbled that just maybe they did have a right, that they were her parents and they loved her after all, but the rest of her was too angry to listen to it. She lay on her back and stared up at the weathered canvas above her. It flapped and rippled now and then in a soft breeze. At last Alirah clenched her hands into fists.
Fine! They want to stop me from talking to him during the day? Then I’ll go and see him at night. And I’ll be ready to leave, too. If they won’t talk to me about it, then I’ll make the decision on my own. I’ll go if I want to go!
Alirah glanced over at Kaya. By then her little sister’s vigilance had failed. She lay facing Alirah with her eyes shut and her mouth open, breathing steadily. Quieter than a mouse, Alirah rose from her sleeping mat. In the semi-darkness she got dressed again, and then quickly gathered up a couple of changes of clothes and a few other odds and ends. She could not have said whether she would have really left right then, in the middle of the night, but in her frustration it felt good to make herself ready. She threw everything into a knapsack and then climbed to her feet. For a moment she paused, listening for the heavy breathing of her tent-mates to make sure they were all still asleep. Then she slung the knapsack over her shoulder, snatched up her boots in one hand, and stepped outside.
A gust of wind came up as she emerged from the tent, and she shivered. The air had grown chilly. The breeze cut right through her clothes. The full moon now hung low in the western sky and cast long, clear shadows on the ground. After the warm darkness of the tent, the light and the brisk air made her eyes blink and water.
The tent in which Kelorn had been housed stood about fifty yards away. Alirah knew she would never reach it unseen. While a number of tents still stood as her own did, more had been taken down. Sleeping people lay all around under blankets, but Alirah knew she was not the only person awake. A few young men would be out on sentry duty, and there would be one or two people tasked with watching over the horses and stock animals through the night. She could only hope nobody would bother her.
With a deep breath she started to pick her way across the camp. She was utterly soundless on her bare feet, but before she had taken five steps a voice called out softly.
“Hey, Princess. Going somewhere?”
Alirah jumped and stifled a shriek. Both her knapsack and her boots dropped into the grass. She whirled about, seeking the source of the voice. A few paces away, mostly behind her tent and screened from her view, lay the huge fallen trunk of a tree. Her mother and father sat together upon it, watching her.
Ethyrin sat hunched over with his hands clasped before him and his forearms resting on his knees. To her surprise she saw that his old sword hung at his side. She hadn’t seen him wear the blade in years. He looked exhausted, as if worn down by a long day’s toil. Nuara sat beside him, much more stiffly upright. A blanket was draped about her thin shoulders but she did not look sleepy.
Alirah froze under their gaze. Fear and shame arose within her and sent a taste of bile into the back of her throat. She imagined that any moment they would both jump up in a rage and start yelling at her. Where do you think you’re going? Were you really just going to sneak away and leave us? The whole camp would wake up and think she was some kind of ungrateful, brat runaway. A moment passed, and then another. Alirah could find no voice to respond with and neither of her parents started yelling. At last Nuara turned toward Ethyrin.
“You lose, Siraté,” she said quietly.
He shook his head, grinning faintly even though he looked sad. “I didn’t take your bet.”
Still speechless, Alirah watched as Nuara hugged Ethyrin, was kissed by him, and then rose to approach her. When she drew close, Alirah could see her cheeks were bathed in tears that glistened in the moonlight. For the moment she’d regained her composure, but fresh tears trembled in the corners of her eyes. Without a word Nuara drew her daughter into a tight embrace. Numbly Alirah hugged her back.
“Mom, I…” she began.
“Shh… You don’t need to explain anything. Just promise me… Promise me you’ll come back.”
Nuara’s voice broke suddenly and she sobbed once. Hot tears sprang to Alirah’s own eyes and her voice shook.
“I will! I’m sorry, Mom, I won’t go! I’ll…”
“Yes you will,” said Nuara, mastering herself again. She smiled sadly and wiped her eyes. “You will or you’ll regret it for the rest of your life, and you’ll hold it against me. Against us. Anyway, you’re too much like me. You’re too stubborn to give up on something once you’ve resolved to do it. Go and speak with your father. He has some things to say to you. For me, all I ask is that you come back. Come back as soon as you can. We can say our farewells in the morning.”
With that Nuara hugged her one more time and kissed her forehead softly. Then she strode away. Silent as a forlorn ghost she made her way back across the remnants of the encampment to where her and Ethyrin’s tent still stood. Alirah watched her go. Five minutes before she had been angry and defiant; now she felt utterly stricken. Her hands hung limp at her sides.
“Hey,” Ethyrin called again, rising slowly from the old log. She turned back to face him, blinking through tears. Even after she wiped her eyes he seemed to be bathed in a white-silver glow.
“Come here, Princess. Walk with me,” he said tenderly, holding out his arm.
Alirah shuffled over to him. She sniffled and tried to quell her tears. He put his arm around her shoulders and together they began to walk slowly from the camp. In a few minutes they’d left it behind and were making their way up the long, grassy slope she’d climbed with Kaya that afternoon. Too late Alirah remembered she’d left her boots lying on the ground. Her bare feet were cold.
When they had put a hundred yards between them and the edge of the encampment, Ethyrin slowed down, but he did not entirely stop. He seemed to be reluctant to come to a halt. For a long while he did not speak.
“Am I in trouble?” Alirah asked at last.
Ethyrin smirked. “Why? Just for trying to sneak off in the middle of the night and run away with a young man whom you don’t know, and who is several years older than you are? Why would you be in trouble for that?”
Alirah blushed, but more from anger than from embarrassment. She came to a halt at once and pulled free of his arm. “I was not going run away with him! I’m not…”
“Shh…” Ethyrin murmured gently, turning back to face her.
Alirah stopped. Her voice had risen almost to a shout. Before she could protest again he took both of her hands in his own, and the gentleness of his touch silenced her. Ethyrin was still smiling, but his eyes were so sad that she wanted to cry.
“I know, Sweetheart,” he said quietly. “I know you aren’t. Believe me, I’d rather you were smitten with him. That would have been so much easier. I’d have had him back on his horse two days ago and been done wi
th it. And you’re not in trouble, either. I just wanted to speak with you in private, and not everyone down there is asleep who is pretending to be.”
He sighed. “It is I who should apologize. Your mother and I should have spoken to you again before now. But we’ve had a lot to talk about too. And we’ve had to talk to Kelorn. There was no question of you’re going with him until we’d had a chance to see what sort of person he is. But he is a good young man. Your mother thinks so too, and she is a harsher judge than I am. He was also dead set against your going back with him, and that helped to put my mind at ease.”
Hope and fear were kindled anew in Alirah’s heart. “Then, does that mean I can go with him? Will he let me? Will you?”
Ethyrin took a deep breath. “You can, if you are sure you wish to. Kelorn is willing to accompany you back to Arandia. In fact I’ve ordered him to do so as his king, since he insists on giving me that title. He’s not very happy about it, though, and I can’t say that I am either. It’s no small thing you’re asking of us, your mother and I.”
“I know it isn’t,” said Alirah quickly. “And I wouldn’t ask it of you but… but I just know that I’m supposed to go back with him. That I can help, somehow. Kaya thinks I’m just being silly. And I really don’t know what I’m going to do. But I know I’m supposed to do something!”
Ethyrin nodded. “I know the feeling. I had it once before. Sometimes the heart knows what must be done, even though the mind doesn’t. Whatever you are meant to do, you may go with Kelorn and do it, if you are so resolved. But I do have some conditions.”
Alirah was instantly on her guard. “What conditions?”
“First, whatever else you do, you must seek out the Priestesses of Illana. Learn what you can about your Sight and how to control it. Find Aila herself, if you can, and tell her hello from me.”
“I was going to do that anyway.”
“Good. Second… You must be careful.”
Alirah rolled her eyes. “No. I’m going to be as reckless as possible. Of course I’m going to be careful!”
For just a moment Ethyrin grinned, but then he shook his head. When he spoke his voice was grim. “I’m serious, Sweetheart. I have never been more serious. I know in my heart that I must not stop you from this, but… but I would stop you anyway. I would forbid you from going if I thought it would do any good. But I cannot claim that you will be safer here.”
“The main bulk of the Taragi seem to be a good bit to the west of us yet, but their scouts and raiders are getting closer every day. We could be attacked at any time. So because it is only a choice of dangers, I think you should go, and do what your heart tells you you must. But remember, your life out here has been quiet and safe: as safe as any father could wish for his daughter. Now you will be going among strangers. Few of them will care for you at all, and some of them will want to hurt you. You must… You must promise me…”
His voice caught. He looked away from her, staring out across the windswept grass and at the stars which twinkled just above the horizon. Alirah reached for him tentatively, trying to find her own voice and reassure him. Before she could do so he mastered himself and looked back at her.
“Just promise me that you’ll be careful,” he said again, quietly. “Don’t try to be any stronger or more grown up than you are.”
“I won’t, Dad. I promise.”
He took a deep breath. “Good. Then there’s only one more thing. If you’re going, you must go as Alirah, girl of the Kwi’Kiri; not as Alirah, lost princess of Arandia.”
This time Alirah frowned. “But what good is it to go as just a girl of the Kwi’Kiri? They’ll never even have heard of the Kwi’Kiri, I’d guess.”
“I’m sure they will not have,” said Ethyrin. “I’m also sure that whatever good you will do, it won’t be because you give yourself one title or another. And you must understand, Sweetheart, that Archandir is not called a Tyrant King for nothing. His father tried to have me killed when I was younger than you are now. Archandir himself was a brute when he was young, and it doesn’t sound like he’s improved. He will not suffer to have you as a rival for his throne. He will kill you if he finds out who you are.”
Alirah felt a swift thrill of fear pass through her, and she nodded. Yet the idea that someone she’d never met would want to kill her was too surreal to take a firm hold in her mind. The sensation passed and she found herself just waiting anxiously for him to go on again.
“In any case,” said Ethyrin, after gazing at her for a long moment. “I mean only that you must not tell anyone who you really are. Not except for a few like Aila, maybe, whom you can trust. But that doesn’t change who you are. Or what you are.”
Now as he spoke a bit of the fear and sadness left his voice. Solemn pride took their place. Alirah watched, wide eyed, as he reached down and took off his sword-belt. Then to her astonishment he dropped to one knee before her. She raised her arms reflexively as he wrapped the belt around her waist. He buckled it in place, then stood up again and stepped back.
For many seconds he did not speak. He only gazed at her with a faint trace of a grin, as if he approved of what he saw. Alirah blushed imperceptibly in the moonlight. She’d handled the weapon a few times before, but she’d never worn it. She glanced down at it where it hung at her hip in its old leathern scabbard. Faded threads of silver and gold twined down the sheath, and she knew similar etchings trailed along the length of the blade. The sword’s golden hilt glimmered faintly in the moonlight. It was not a large weapon; a big warrior would have thrust with it from behind a stout shield. But measured against a person of Alirah’s stature it looked much more formidable.
Suddenly Alirah’s eyes flew wide in understanding. She gasped aloud.
“You mean for me to take it? You’re giving it to me?”
“I am.”
“But this is your sword!”
“It is the Sword of the Kings of Arandia. And of the Queens,” said Ethyrin. “If a daughter of the Kings is going back to Arandia and going into danger, it is she who should wear the blade. And it will be of more use to you on your journey than it will be to me here.”
At that moment a stronger gust of wind arose and moaned through the empty air around them. The gust blew out Alirah’s hair and made her skirt billow gently against the sword which hung alongside it. She shivered, but not from cold. Standing there she felt as if she had stepped across some boundary line. She felt as though her father were looking at her and speaking to her for the first time as a grown woman, and not as a child; and she was afraid.
“But… but what if the Taragi come?” she stammered.
Ethyrin shrugged. “If the Taragi come in force, one sword will not save us from them. We can only hope to leave them behind as we venture further south. In any case I want you to have it. I’ve taught you how to use it as best I can, though I hope you never have to. And you must never seek to. I give you the sword for your own protection, and for the protection of those you may find who need it. I do not give it to you to start any fights, and still less to start a war. A civil war in Arandia will bring about its destruction. I would not hear one day that my daughter has torn apart my kingdom, after I fled to save it.”
“I won’t. Of course I won’t,” said Alirah. But at the same time she recalled her vision: the armies marching into battle, the sword in her hand, the tall, dark enemy facing her. Was it this sword I was holding? She wondered in sudden fear. What if I do start a war?
“You must be careful with it, too,” Ethyrin continued. “Remember that it was once well known in Arandia. For more than sixteen hundred years the High Kings and Queens bore this weapon as their badge of office. It should not easily be recognized now; it’s been sixty years and more since my grandfather is supposed to have melted it down to make a grander blade. I don’t think it will immediately connect you to me anyhow, since only Aila and Sedura knew I took it.
Still, do not let anyone else handle it unless you absolutely have to. If anyone does ask about it, my ancestors, the Eredun, came out of the far west in the deeps of time. It is certainly possible that one of their ancient blades got left behind out here and became the heirloom of a Kwi’Kiri family.”
Alirah nodded. She swallowed in a dry throat and tried to calm herself. “I will take it if you want me to have it, but shouldn’t it go to Elidan? He’ll be your heir, after all.”
“No,” said Ethyrin. “He will not be my heir. He is my firstborn son. Your mother and I named him Elidan II, after my own father whom I can barely remember. I thought he would carry on the line of the kings. But Elidan is no King of Arandia. He is a fine young man of the Kwi’Kiri: strong and passionate, a hunter and a musician. He will have several children, I think, and he’ll raise them well. But he has never dreamed of going to Arandia and he will never do so. Kaya is very young yet, but I think she is also content with the life that she finds out here in our little corner of the world. It is your eyes that have always been turned to the horizon. It was you who used to ask every night for all the old stories I could remember. And it is you who would stand up and volunteer to go a country you’ve never seen, to help a people you’ve never known, because you heard they needed help.”
“The High Kings of old had the right to name an heir among their children, if they had more than one. It was a right seldom used. Usually their firstborn inherited the throne. But I use that right tonight. You are my second born, Alirah, but you are my heir. When I die, you will be the rightful High Queen of Arandia.”
She could only stare at him, overwhelmed. He smiled.
“But since I don’t feel like dying just yet, you’ll have to go on just being my sweet Alirah for a while. Now get some sleep, Princess. You’re going to need it.”