“There is more you should know,” said Moira Centyr. “There is a reason that only Centyr wizards were able to create magically sentient minds. Those crafted by other families were invariably unstable. I was able to observe him up close for several days. His personality is eroding. We may be able to trust his intentions now, but his sanity won’t last.”
Matthew spoke then, “You’re wrong! He’ll save us.”
Everyone turned to the boy speaking, pity and condescension in their eyes. All eyes but one pair; Moira Illeniel stood beside her brother and added, “Don’t look at Matthew that way. He’s right. I spoke with Daddy—in here.” She pointed to her forehead. “He won’t let us down.”
Stephen Balistair patted her gently, “Child, he isn’t your father anymore.”
“He is!” she growled, jerking her head away.
Ariadne rose from her seat then. “We will not gain anything by arguing. A choice must be made, and it must fall to me to decide. If Mordecai turns against us, all is likely to be lost. If he is with us, and we are mistrustful, he may fail. Therefore we will trust him.” As she spoke her personality changed, and no one was left in any doubt about who actually spoke. It wasn’t Ariadne the woman, but the Queen of Lothion who had pronounced her judgment.
Rose Thornbear stepped in with a tray of scones. She had missed the entire discussion, but her ears had caught Ariadne’s tone. “Did I miss something?” she asked.
Dorian groaned. “I’ll catch you up later Rose.”
She looked at him doubtfully.
“What?” Dorian said.
“You always leave important things out, dear,” replied Rose sweetly. Her eyes turned instead to Penny and Ariadne. “I’m sure the ladies will explain things more completely.”
Everyone laughed while Dorian frowned at her. “Have it your way,” he said grumpily.
***
Later that evening Rose found her husband looking over his equipment in the bedroom. They had returned to the Illeniel house after he had escaped from the palace. For obvious reasons it was one of the only truly safe places they could stay in the city.
He held his breastplate in one hand, examining it in the light.
“You haven’t even managed to scratch it yet,” she remarked. The breastplate was part of the armor that Mordecai had crafted to replace the set that had been destroyed when Dorian fought Karenth previously. “Is it really worth your time to go over it again and again, love?”
Dorian shrugged, “Old habits die hard. Better to be sure, than die from a mistaken assumption.”
Rose watched him silently for a few minutes before broaching the topic that was bothering her. “Is tonight really wise?”
Her husband had gotten as far as inspecting his great sword by that point. He set it aside and gave her his full attention. “I doubt the word ‘wise’, really applies to anything that has occurred the past few days.”
Ariadne had planned a strike against Tremont’s troops during the dark hours before dawn. One of the main bodies of the usurper’s mercenaries was currently occupying the main bailey that controlled the city’s east gate. Coincidentally that was also the place traditionally occupied by the Lord Hightower, Rose’s father. No one had seen him since the takeover, although they had liberated some of his men at arms.
The soldiers who had been poisoned were recovering, those who hadn’t been slain by the invaders. According to Elise, the poison used was meant to sicken and incapacitate rather than kill.
“You know what I’m asking,” she said.
“We’re still outnumbered at least four to one, but we know the layout of the city’s defenses intimately, and we’re already inside the walls. If we wait Tremont will solidify his hold on the city and be able to bring more troops to bear. Each day also increases the chance that he will find the safe houses where we’ve hidden what remains of our guardsmen. Once that happens we’ll lose our ability to fight back,” explained Dorian. “Time is not on our side.”
“Shouldn’t we abandon the city and find a better time and place to fight?” she suggested.
Dorian rolled his shoulders, stretching the muscles. “We have one advantage.”
Rose narrowed her eyes. “You?”
“And Penny, and Sir Egan,” added her husband.
“She shouldn’t be going with you,” said Rose disapprovingly.
Dorian nodded, “I feel the same, but there’s no denying she’s one of our most powerful assets at this point. Besides, she won’t be kept from it.”
Rose’s expression didn’t change.
“And the truth is—we need her,” said Dorian plainly. “We only have three fighters with the earth bond. The others are in Cameron.”
“We shouldn’t be fighting, we risk losing even more,” countered Rose.
“That’s probably truth, but you ignore the influence of our new queen. Ariadne has set a fire in the hearts of everyone she’s come into contact with. I never would have suspected she had such a talent with people. She instinctively knows she needs to keep a forward momentum to gather the full support of the citizens.”
Rose changed tack, “Without you she has nothing.”
Her husband’s heavy brows knitted together as he frowned. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“You’re the linchpin, the last bit of power that holds everything else together. Penny can’t afford to take on the sorts of dangers you will. Sir Egan, and for that matter, the other Knights of Stone, follow you. If something happens to you it will be the blow that finishes the work that Tremont started when he killed James.”
Dorian listened intently, and silently he agreed with her on all points. “The truth doesn’t change necessity.”
Lady Rose waved her finger at her husband, “Don’t try getting deep on me. I saw your face when you returned the other day. That armor you borrowed was utterly ruined and your eyes were haunted. She can’t risk putting you at the spear point of this attack.”
Dorian tilted his chin down, letting the shadows cover his eyes when he heard her words. “We talked about that already. I was just a little shaken. Too much blood in one day can do that to a man.”
“It was more than that,” Rose continued doggedly, “you were afraid.”
“I’ve never felt fear in the face of an enemy. That still hasn’t changed…,” responded Dorian fiercely.
“Then you’re a fool.”
“… but I thought I might die that day. I thought of you, and the children—what might happen to you. It gave me a new perspective,” Dorian added. “I carried that poor woman. All she wanted was to see her children one more time…,” his words trailed off, but he picked them up again after a long pause. “I realized that all I wanted was the same, but all I could see in front of me was a sea of faces—men waiting for me to kill them.”
“Then you understand why I used to push so hard to get you to stay home, to let other men carry some of the burden. Every time you left I cried. Each time I worried that that would be the journey that would take you away from us forever,” she answered softly.
Dorian’s head was in his hands now. “It’s worse than that, Rose. It’s changing me.”
“No one passes through such trials unscathed.”
“No, I mean something more than that. I’m afraid of what I’m becoming. It’s gotten too easy. It used to be work, but now it seems normal. When I look at people now, the first thing that occurs to me is how easily they might die. Sometimes I fear that I might kill someone if I don’t keep a close watch on myself. Not out of spite, or malice, simply out of reflex—simply because it’s normal, because that’s what I do.”
Rose bit her lip. “You’re far more than that. Think of your children. Your son adores you, and your daughter will too someday. You just have to survive this… to give your heart time to heal.”
“Let’s be honest, Rose. I’m gone more than half the time. And the things I do… I don’t want Gram taking up the sword after me. I worshipped my Dad, but I didn’t unde
rstand then what I do now. It’s a curse. If you had seen those men’s eyes today—when they looked at me…”
“Is that why you named it ‘Thorn’?” she asked, hoping to turn his thoughts away from their morbid course. She was referring to the name he had given his magical great sword.
He stared at her for a long second, “You know why I named it Thorn.”
“Remind me.”
“Actually, I named it Rose’s Thorn,” he replied, “as a warning to any who might keep me from returning to you. I know you didn’t forget that.”
“I didn’t,” she admitted. “I just wanted to remind you. You have three good reasons to keep your handsome self in one piece, and I am one of them.” She draped herself over his broad shoulders, letting one hand rest on his stomach.
Her hand reminded him of his most recent transformation. His body had returned to normal not long after the fighting ended, but he had kept the details of his battle to himself. He felt a small amount of guilt for keeping the secret, and he considered revealing to her then what had happened. “I’m not sure they can hurt me,” he told her, wondering if she would pick up on his hint.
Rose was focused on improving his mood however. Moving her fingers lightly, she tickled his belly, forcing him to twist in her arms. Despite his brawn, her husband was still weak to certain things. “If those men knew your weakness, no one would fear you, dearest,” she said, nibbling on his ear.
“I doubt anyone would think to nibble on my ear lobes,” he answered with a weak laugh.
Rose laughed loudly at that, “I didn’t mean that! I meant this!” Using both hands she began to tickle his sides, causing him to thrash about on the floor. Eventually he managed to wrangle her beneath him, pinning her hands to prevent further assaults on his dignity. Breathless and smiling, her eyes sparkled with mischief as she looked up at him. “Oh, dear! Now I’m in a terrible position. Whatever will you do with me?”
As always he found himself helpless to preserve his dark mood in the face of her sweet charms. “You’ll have to pay a ransom if you wish to have your freedom again, milady,” he said as he leaned in to kiss her firmly. He brushed away the tear that appeared in his eye before she saw it, and things rapidly grew more intense between them.
Rose made sure he had little time to dwell on his black thoughts after that.
Chapter 28
The island grew slowly in my vision. It seemed as if I was approaching it at a crawl, yet I was pushing my speed as much I could without the risk of losing control of my magical craft. Even though it had been a day and a half since I had left Albamarl, and my emotions were almost non-existent, I could feel a growing tension as my goal grew closer.
I flew over the shoreline without interruption. The magic that had been used to snare me on my last visit was notably absent. Magesight revealed a few glimpses of the Kriteck, but they were few and faint. I detected none of the more powerful ones that had greeted me before.
Where have they gone?
Something faint touched the exterior of my craft as I flew, a tenuous extension of power, seeking and identifying me in a single instant. Bring her directly to me, came the mental voice I recognized as Tennick. I was forced to admire his skill at being able to reach my mind directly, despite the distance and the various barriers represented by both my craft and the armor I wore.
“I suppose two thousand years alone on an island leaves one with a lot of time to practice,” I said aloud. Silently, I returned an affirmative thought, assuming that Tennick would be able to detect it.
The rest of my trip across the island was similarly untroubled, though I discovered the location of most of the Kriteck once I reached the father-tree. They were gathered in all their varied forms around the tree. The four massive dragon-like ones that I had seen rise from the earth were there as well, spread out almost a quarter mile apart in each of the cardinal directions. Only the space immediately around Tennick was clear. I knew intuitively that that was where I was meant to land.
My landing was anti-climactic, silent, and without any sort of greeters, not that I was surprised. They knew why I was here, and each of them had their purpose. The Kriteck were to guard and protect, there was no need for envoys to welcome me. Tennick himself could not move, but I could sense his attention focused on me. The sensation was so strong it almost seemed as if the tree leaned over me. Even though the sun was still shining down brightly, his presence was a shadow over my shoulder.
I was fifty yards from the massive tree, a distance made necessary by the fact that, over the years, Lyralliantha would likely come to be just as large as her kianthi. In the past the She’Har had sometimes chosen to plant themselves closer together, but only when they had an explicit reason, such as growing some of the impressive structures their cities had contained.
This planting would be traditional and practical. Far enough to give the two trees room to grow freely, yet close enough for their roots to reach one another—and close enough to ensure pollination would never be a problem. In time, if things went well, the grove would expand, as some of their children planted themselves around them; mother and father-trees would eventually cover most of the island.
That reflection left me with one sobering thought. Where will Mordecai’s children be then? Will they still occupy the mainland, or will it be empty and sterile, victim to Mal’goroth’s spite? Will he let the race that created him return to reclaim that land?
Humanity’s fate was very much in doubt.
I harbor no ill-will toward the people of my origin, Tennick relayed directly to my mind. I merely wish to restore what I destroyed.
You and Mal’goroth have very different visions of the future, I thought wryly.
For him there is no future.
That was a positive thought, but I wasn’t so hopeful, I wish that were true, but I can see no way to defeat him.
You cannot, the ancient She’Har mentally nodded in agreement, but he will have no future regardless.
Even as we conversed, my body was moving, obeying its incessant requirement to deliver Lyra to her beloved kianthi. My magic had brought her stone container out and had removed its covering already; it was settling to the ground now. I walked over and stared down at the woman lying within. Reaching out I began removing the enchantment that held her bound, timeless, within the sarcophagus. In the back of my mind, my thoughts still pondered Tennick’s words. I’m more concerned with whether Mal’goroth will destroy humanity’s future, even if he doesn’t have one himself.
You cannot defeat him.
Who could? I questioned.
The man who destroyed Thillmarius could do it, Tennick responded.
Mordecai? He’s dead, I noted without enthusiasm. What about another archmage?
The She’Har didn’t respond for a long time, his attention caught by Lyralliantha as she took a new breath and began to rise from the stone box. Her gaze was taken immediately by the sight of the massive father-tree, and her lips curved into a smile.
“You succeeded!” she exclaimed with unconcealed delight.
I have waited for you! Tennick’s thought was bright with a joy that I hadn’t suspected the tree to be capable of.
There was no hope of continuing our conversation for the moment. Tennick and Lyra’s minds were entirely preoccupied with their reunion. I could catch hints of their emotions spilling out now and then, but the bulk of their communication was private, hidden from my perception. She had begun to dance, a physical expression of her happiness, as though her body could no longer contain the entirety of her feelings in stillness.
She ran to the base of the giant tree, placing one hand upon its bark before leaping away, twirling with a skip in her steps. Moving in large circles, she made her way around the clearing before returning to the center, to a place close to where I had landed. The earth looked soft there, as if it had been freshly tilled. Tennick must have known the spot she would choose.
She danced around it before lighting in the center an
d digging her feet into the loose soil like a child. A shudder ran through her body then, and her eyes stopped on me for the first time since she had emerged from her enchanted slumber. “You,” she said softly.
I returned her look with a sense of mild annoyance. “Yes?”
She gestured toward me with her arms. Her legs seemed to have become stiff already. I wondered if she might already be taking root. I stepped closer, but she continued to gesture until I was within reach of her arms.
“What do you want? I thought I was finished,” I said coldly.
Her arms went around my shoulders and she pulled me into a close embrace. “You have done all I could ask. You have your freedom, and—my thanks.” She kissed me lightly then. “Don’t forget the stone I gave you. You are free to end your suffering whenever you wish now. My geas is lifted from you.”
Her lips felt electric and sent a jolt of living emotion through me, despite the fact that she was not actually human. I pulled away, feeling my irritation fully now. The magic binding my actions was gone, but while her wish had been granted, I was still left with no practical solution for the problems my family faced.
“What about Mal’goroth? You told me you would share your knowledge once I had completed this task,” I reminded her. “Is there a way to control him?”
“I cannot help you directly,” she replied slowly. “There is a way to control him, but it is lost to living memory.”
I tapped my temple. “I still have the knowledge of the loshti. If I just knew what to look for, perhaps I could find it.”
She shook her head sadly, “The loshti you bear is from the Illeniel Grove. Mal’goroth was created by the Mordan Grove, only they knew the key-weaving that would control him.”
“Key-weaving,” I said, letting the word tickle my memory. It brought an alien bit of knowledge to mind, something meant to control Balinthor, but he had already been destroyed. Even so, I couldn’t use the knowledge; it required the ability to spellweave. “Only one of your people could do it.”