Finnikin of the Rock

  "Rest, Finn," his father said. "I fear there will be much for you to do when you reach the Valley of Tranquillity."

  And with one last look at Finnikin, Trevanion and Perri headed west, where their exiled people waited.

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  At the edge of the camp, Finnikin and Lucian lay near one of the fires to dry their damp clothing. Evanjalin and Froi were already asleep, and Finnikin covered them with the fleece-lined coats.

  "He was my hero. Balthazar," Lucian said quietly, looking at Finnikin over the small blaze.

  "I think you were his," Finnikin acknowledged.

  "No. I think half of him wanted to be Trevanion of the River and the other half Finnikin of the Rock." Lucian laughed. "I, of course, wanted to be Perri the Savage, although after tonight I'm not sure I have the stomach for it."

  "There's more to our Perri."

  Lucian leaned forward. "Anyway, I'm not sure Balthazar would have made the finest of kings."

  "Why do you say such a thing?" Finnikin asked.

  "Perhaps better than his father, but not like his mother. My family says the queen married beneath herself."

  Finnikin snorted, careful not to wake Froi and Evanjalin. "Only you mountain goats would believe you're better than royalty."

  "It's not conceit," Lucian said. "She had grit. She had a thirst for knowledge and a ruthlessness, passed on to her daughters, that any Mont would envy. The oldest princess, Cousin Vestie, would have been a great leader. Yata always said she had strength much like her mother, the queen. The king was ... soft, especially with his cousin. So it was no shock to usthat that scum beneath our boots found his way back into Lumatere as the impostor king."

  "The impostor king was a pawn who was placed there by the king of Charyn in an attempt to use Lumatere as a road to invade Belegonia."

  Lucian shrugged. "The king was weak with Charyn. He should have sent in the army the moment Charyn first stopped the goods wagons from the north."

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  He looked over at Froi and Evanjalin. "Do you know why I was certain Balthazar had died that night?" he asked.

  Finnikin sighed, wanting to sleep. "Perhaps because you think you know everything?"

  Lucian was in no mood for humor. "Does your wound weep? The one from the pledge?"

  Finnikin nodded.

  "So does mine, and that's how I know he's dead and has been from that night."

  Finnikin said nothing.

  "The wound lives because the pledge was real. It worked."

  "Lucian..."

  "What did we pledge that day on the rock of three wonders, Finnikin?" he whispered urgently.

  Still Finnikin didn't respond. There was something about Lucian's tone that was causing his heart to hammer against his chest.

  "Balthazar pledged to die protecting the royal house of Lumatere," Lucian said. "You pledged to be their guide. I pledged to be their beacon. And ten years later we are all here."

  "Not all of us."

  Lucian moved closer toward him. "Balthazar's pledge was that he would die protecting the royal house of Lumatere," he repeated, tears in his eyes. "Three witnesses saw him running through the Forest that night." Lucian shook his head in disbelief. "Not possible. Balthazar would never have allowed himself to live that night if Isaboe died. That's the difference between the king's son and the queen's daughters. The king's first priority was the survival of his wife and children. But the queen's? Survival of the people. Because the people were Lumatere."

  "What are you saying?" Finnikin asked.

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  "Balthazar took from his father," Lucian said with force. "We all honored our pledge. And Seranonna of the Forest Dwellers and two others, who had no reason to lie, claimed to have seen a child running from the Forest that night. The child who stamped bloody handprints on the kingdom walls. I saw those handprints. All the Monts saw them that week we stayed in the Valley of Tranquillity. My father and his brothers had to drag my yata away from them."

  Finnikin could hardly form words. Lucian looked slightly crazed as he pointed at the figure lying beside Finnikin.

  "Balthazar protected her. You were her guide. You brought her here because she sensed her people. I was the beacon."

  "Isaboe?" Finnikin said, his voice hoarse with shock. He stared at her sleeping figure as Lucian stood and drew his sword from its scabbard. Instantly the Mont was on guard, but Finnikin could not move. Isaboe. Why would he not have known? How could he not have recognized her? Worse still, he wondered with hurt and rage, why had she not trusted him? After all this time, when they had walked side by side? Yet he leaped to his feet beside Lucian. To do what he was born to do. Protect the royal house of their kingdom.

  "You started this when you forced us to cut flesh from our bodies, Finnikin," Lucian whispered. "But I would do it a thousand times over to see our queen lead us back home to Lumatere."

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  CHaPteR 23

  When the sun appeared in the sky, Finnikin woke her with shaking hands. The exiles had left for the Valley with Saro's men at dawn. Still exhausted, Froi and Evanjalin begged for more sleep, but Finnikin shook his head. There was desperation in him, in Lucian too. To take her to Yata. "It's only a short walk," he said quietly. A few feet away, Saro of the Monts was talking with some of his men. He seemed surprised to see Lucian and Finnikin in the foothills and approached them with a questioning look on his face. Until he saw her.

  "This is where it begins," Lucian whispered. A look of intense shock crossed Saro's face. Sensing him, Evanjalin looked up from where she was crouched, tying her boots, then stood and walked toward him. When she reached him, she bent to kneel in respect for the Mont leader. Horrified, Saro pulled her to her feet in the same way Sir Topher had once reacted when Evanjalin tried to kneel at Trevanion's feet. Sir Topher knew, Finnikin realized, had always known. A queen never bent to her people.

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  Saro of the Monts held his hand out to her, and she took it calmly. Finnikin watched as she walked alongside her uncle. The higher they climbed, the more hurried her footsteps, her fingers clenching and unclenching by her side. Saro looked down at her, and the Mont leader's shoulders shook, overcome with the strength of his feelings.

  But when they reached the settlement, she stopped and turned, and her eyes found Finnikin's. He wanted desperately to protect her. To hide her. To take her away to a place where he could pretend she was a novice named Evanjalin. And there they both stood for a moment. Until she turned and walked toward Yata, who stood in the distance laughing at something with Sir Topher as they went about their morning chores. And then the queen of Lumatere broke free of her uncle's hand, a sob escaping her throat as she sprang toward her grandmother, who stared like she'd seen an apparition.

  "Yata!" Isaboe's cry of anguish rang through the hills. Her body pressed against her yata, collapsing under the weight of her memories and grief as the names poured out of her mouth. Names of her sisters and brother, mother and father, echoing with a sorrow that seemed as if it would never end.

  Yata's tent, where the queen stayed, was heavily guarded that night. Out of respect for the family and a need to be alone, Finnikin had kept his distance. But his desire to see her was strong. The need to lie by her side and gather her to him was so fierce that it made him weak.

  As he went to enter the tent, four of the queen's cousins stepped in front of him, swords in their hands.

  "I'm with the queen," he said firmly.

  The Mont who seemed to be in charge shook his head. "She's with her family and the queen's First Man," he was told. "Who are you to her?"

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  Who was he to the queen of Lumatere?

  Lucian appeared before he could answer. "He's with us, lads," he said, stepping back to allow Finnikin to enter.

  He could not see her from where he stood. Saro and his brothers and wives and their children were clustered around the middle of the tent. He could see Sir Topher, his head bent
close to Saro as the two men spoke.

  "They trapped the silver wolf," Lucian whispered as they sat at the edge of the tent. "In the hole we dug and covered with foliage."

  "Who?"

  "Balthazar and Isaboe. That night. And when the assassin gave chase, Balthazar hid Isaboe in a burrow and led him to the trap." Finnikin stared, horrified.

  "Isaboe later returned to the main gate," Lucian continued, watching the scene around Yata's bed, "but the bodies of the royal family had already been discovered and the gate was closed. She knew something terrible must have happened in the palace as it had in the forest. So she returned to the Forest and went searching for Seranonna and led her to where... Balthazar"--Lucian shuddered --"lay dead alongside the assassin in the dugout. Torn to pieces. The wolf still lived."

  "They buried the wolf alive with Balthazar and the assassin?" Finnikin asked hoarsely.

  Lucian shook his head. "Isaboe would not allow her brother to be buried beside the assassin. She was afraid it would keep the gods from taking Balthazar to his rightful place in the afterlife. She killed the wolf with Balthazar's crossbow. She said Finnikin of the Rock had taught her how to shoot as a child. Seranonna retrieved the bodies of both the animal and Balthazar and buried them together. Then the death bells from the palace began to sound. Seranonna knew that Isaboe might be the only surviving

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  member of the royal family. She made sure that whoever the assassins were, they would be led to believe that Isaboe had died, not Balthazar. So they would never search for a girl child."

  "The clothes... hair ..." Finnikin swallowed, not able to continue.

  "Belonged to Isaboe. But the fingers ... ears ..."

  "Mercy."

  The queen was sleeping, her head resting on Yata's lap, as if the ten years of journeying had finally exhausted her. Yata caught Finnikin's eye among the crowds of people, and she beckoned him with her hand.

  "She asks for you each time she wakes," she said, smiling as he approached.

  Who are you to her?

  He knelt beside the bed, wanting to reach out and touch the smooth flushed skin. "All this time she wanted to get home to you," he said quietly.

  Yata shook her head. "No. She is mine for these few precious moments, Finnikin, and I will be selfish and take every opportunity to hold her to me. But all this time she needed to get home to her people of Lumatere." She took his hand and placed it alongside the queen's cheek. "Is she not the image of my precious girl?" she asked, tears in her eyes. "My other sweet lovelies were the image of their good father, the king, who treated my daughter like a queen from the moment he first saw her. But this one? This one was our little Mont girl."

  Finnikin looked up at Saro. "If I could be so bold, Saro. Please send your people ahead to the Valley tonight and allow us to keep our traveling party small. It will be dangerous to draw attention to ourselves this close to Lumatere, and the protection of the queen is paramount. We must inform Trevanion that Queen Isaboe is returning to the Valley to take her people home."

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  Saro nodded. "We will send word through my brothers."

  "We leave at first light," Finnikin said.

  They left the hills of Osteria the next morning with the last of the Monts. The queen rode in the middle of the group with Finnikin. At times he felt her tears against his back, and he knew they were for him as much as for her. What was about to take place in the Valley outside the kingdom was a mystery to them all, and he sensed her fear as her hands clutched him tight. Strong hands, he had once observed when they stole the horse in Sarnak. They would need to be to lead a kingdom. Heal a people. On either side of them rode Saro and Lucian, and in front Yata, Sir Topher, and Froi. They were quiet. They knew too much not to be. The entry into Lumatere would cost the Monts dearly, if not through the loss of their queen then through the loss of their men. After ten years of keeping their people safe from harm, Saro and his men would be the first to enter the gate after the Guard.

  Before they reached the Valley, Finnikin stopped. They were traveling along a narrow path between wheat fields that shimmered on either side.

  "I need you to come with me," he said quietly to Lucian. "Saro, can you take care of the queen? We will not be long." She gripped his hand. "Let me come, Finnikin."

  "You'll be safer here," he said gently.

  Lucian followed him to a place among the crops, and Finnikin wasted no time in speaking. "I need you to pledge," he told the Mont when he was sure no one could hear them.

  "Definitely not from my upper thigh."

  "We don't have time to argue. Just bleed and pledge to the goddess."

  "Lagrami or Sagrami?"

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  "Goddess complete." Finnikin held out his dagger, and Lucian stared at it for a moment before taking it and making an incision across his arm. He handed the dagger back to Finnikin and waited for him to repeat the action, but Finnikin shook his head.

  "Just you."

  "Whatever it is, we pledge together, Finnikin," Lucian said firmly.

  "Pledge that you will kill me--"

  Lucian stepped away from him in fury. "You go too far."

  Finnikin grabbed the Mont by his shirt. "Pledge that you will kill me if I am ever a threat to the queen."

  Lucian shrugged free. "I will kill anyone who is a threat to my queen," he said through gritted teeth.

  "Pledge, Lucian. Please."

  "A blind man can see what she feels for you and you for her. Your souls are not merely entwined; they are fused. There is your threat, Finnikin. Why can't you just tell her you love her and pretend you live normal lives like the rest of us damned mortals?"

  "Pledge it! I beg you as my blood brother."

  Lucian traced a line across Finnikin's arm with his dagger. "Balthazar's pledge," he said forcefully. "That I protect the royal house of Lumatere. The queen." He looked at Finnikin. "And the one she chooses to be her king."

  Froi leaned his head on Finnikin's horse beside where the queen sat, desperate to see the captain and Perri and Moss. Then everyone would start scowling and yelling orders again and he would know that things were back to normal. The night before, he had overheard the Mont lads talking about Finnikin and the queen. He hated the way they called Evanjalin the queen, as if she wasn't a person anymore. The Mont lads were whispering about the force needed to break the curse at the main gate and one of them called

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  Finnikin a skinny trog and Froi wanted to tell them that he had seen Finnikin fight and that he was better than all of them. Then the other Mont lad whispered that Finnikin or the queen would probably die at the gate because the curse was so strong, and it would probably be Finnikin because he wasn't used to the darkness. Froi knew the captain wouldn't let Finnikin or Evanjalin do anything that would cause them harm, so he was glad when Finnikin and Lucian returned so they could get down to the Valley and the captain could take charge and forbid Finnikin from doing anything that could end in his death.

  He watched as Finnikin swung onto the horse, his sleeve stained with blood. Froi liked the way Finnikin reached behind him and took Evanjalin's hand, placing it around his waist. It made everything seem normal because Finnikin always wanted to touch her.

  "Let's go," Finnikin said quietly, and like each time he had spoken on this day, everyone listened and followed.

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  CHaPteR 24

  When they reached the hill overlooking the Valley of Tranquillity Finnikin saw the tempest. It was impossible to approach the Valley and not see the dark clouds

  shrouding the kingdom beyond. But it was what lay just ahead of them that took his breath away. Not a valley, but a sea. Of people. Tens of hundreds of them waiting to go home. Finnikin heard the queen's sob behind him.

  "I want to walk," she said urgently, slipping off the horse. He followed, trailing her, his hand resting on the handle of his sword, ready for anything that might go wrong. There were too many people, any one of them a
threat to her. He was used to small camps of exiles, but not half the kingdom.

  As they reached the edge of the crowd, he became aware of the energy around them. At the other end of the settlement was a training camp where weapons were being made and men were taking target practice. In other areas, people stood in clusters talking and arguing, and he recognized Lord August and Lady Abian with those from the Flatlands, distributing food among their group.

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  Finnikin caught a glimpse of Trevanion and the Guard patrolling the boundaries on horseback, and for the first time in days he felt relief. As if Trevanion sensed them, he turned to face the slope where Finnikin and Evanjalin stood. He exchanged a word with his men, and then the Guard was making its way toward them and Finnikin was nine years old again, his chest bursting with pride because he would never see anything as grand as his father astride a horse leading his men.

  Trevanion dismounted, his hand coming out to grip Finnikin's shoulder. Finnikin knew this was not just a greeting. It was an acknowledgment of what would take place in the next few days beyond the main gate. Trevanion's men dismounted, and all around them groups of exiles stopped to see what was taking place.

  And then the captain of the Guard reached the queen. He knelt and then lay prostrate on the path before her, his men following his lead as a hush came over the settlement.

  Finnikin saw the tears in her eyes as she stared down at her men. She looked small and vulnerable and he feared for her, but then he remembered that Isaboe, the youngest daughter of the king and queen of Lumatere, had walked thousands of miles over ten years to get to this place. And it was this, he knew, that caused his father to bow down to her more than her royal bloodline. The Lumateran royal family truly came from the gods. Never had Finnikin believed it more than in this moment watching his father lie before their queen.