Artesans of Albia: 02 - King's Champion (50 page)

Despite the bitter cold it was a breathtakingly beautiful night. The air was still. There were no clouds, and a quarter-moon swung low on the horizon. Stars glittered in the sky’s dark vault, and it was completely silent. Up here, the stench of the battlefield was undetectable. Watch fires flashed and glowed like firebugs on the Plains. The Hierarch’s standard hung limp from its pole, and there was no sign of Sullyan.

Robin made his way over to the wall and began his search at the section overlooking Rykan’s camp. She wasn’t there. He couldn’t see very far along the walls as there were buttresses at regular intervals jutting out onto the roof. She could be sheltering behind any one of them. He made his way around the roof until he saw a darker shape leaning against the south-facing battlements. Her arms tightly hugged her chest and her face was turned up to the sky. In the faint glimmer of starlight, Robin could see the tracks of tears on her cheeks. Momentarily unsure, he stopped, unwilling to intrude. Soon the sound of soft sobs compelled him to her side.

He wasn’t shielding, so she knew he was there. Mutely, she turned to the comfort of his arms and he wrapped them about her, lapping her in the folds of her warm cloak. She rested her head against his shoulder and he felt the tremor of her body. They stood in silence until she calmed. Then, raising her head, she wiped at her eyes with a fold of cloak. He looked down at her and the only thing he could think of to say was, “What is it, love?”

“Oh, Robin.” Her voice was rough, broken. “I could die tomorrow. I thought I was used to the idea after Rykan’s ... abuse, but suddenly I find that I want to live so very much.”

He couldn’t stifle a sob of his own and tightened his arms about her thin body. Burying his face in her fragrant hair, he murmured fiercely, “You’re not going die! You’re stronger than that. There isn’t anyone who can stand against you in a straight fight, not even Rykan. I don’t care how good he is. I believe you’re going to beat him, and so does Pharikian. And Anjer. And Kryp and Ephan. Even Vanyr does. I saw the look he gave you when you floored him this afternoon.”

She drew away from him and gazed into his face. The faint starlight had turned her golden eyes black. She wore a grateful smile. Kissing him on the lips, she said, “You are my strength, Robin Tamsen, do you know that?”

“And you’re my life, Sullyan. I can’t imagine living without you. That’s how I know you’re going to survive this. You’ll defeat Rykan. I don’t know how you’re going to beat the poison. I just know that you will. There will be a way. There has to be!”

His certainty, his absolute faith in her and in Fate, was so sure, so unshakeable, that he felt her begin to believe it. Her earlier mood of optimism suddenly returned in full. He felt her gratitude for his love and support and saw her loving smile. He held her close, fearing his heart would break. The thought of what they had gone through, what she had done for him, and what they had experienced during the two short years they had been together, brought tears to his eyes, but they were tears of love and happiness, not sorrow.

She lifted her head and now there was a faintly challenging look on her face.

“At least you managed to keep Bull and the others far enough away. I am glad they are safe.”

Shock jolted through him. “Far enough away?”

The challenging look turned into a mischievous grin. “Oh, come now, Robin, you never thought I would not know they were here? My love, Bulldog and I have been together nearly fourteen years. I know his psyche as well as my own. Did you truly think I would not sense him? Bull could not hide from me even if he flew to the moon.”

He was dismayed, and she laughed. “You should know better than to keep secrets from me, love. Where are they, up on that little hill to the south?”

He nodded, and she gave his hand a squeeze.

“I spoke to Bull,” she said, “just before you came up to find me. I fear I gave him rather a hard time, but he deserved it for trying to deceive me.” She shook her head. “Ah, my love, you are both forgiven. I know you only had my welfare at heart. If this goes as I hope, then we will all meet up again later. I would dearly love to see them again. But when we do”—her voice was stern despite the smile—“you are not to tell Bulldog he is forgiven until I have given him another piece of my mind. He disobeyed my direct orders, after all.”

He felt her demeanor change and she gripped his arms, her large eyes holding his gaze.

“Robin, I want you to trust me tomorrow. Whatever happens, whatever is said or done, promise you will trust me.”

He went still. “You know I will. But why do you say that? Is there something you’re not telling me? What are you planning?”

She shook her head, starlight shimmering in her unbound hair. “Maybe ... it may be nothing. There is something at the back of my mind, Robin, nagging at me, something I need to remember, something I need to do. I came out here hoping it would surface, but it has not. Ah well, if I am meant to recall it, I will. Let us go in, my love. I am cold, and poor Jay’el must be frozen by now. There will be time enough tomorrow to think. Probably too much time.”

* * * * *

O
ver to the south, on the little wooded knoll, two men sat at watch. They lit no fire at night and so were wrapped in every piece of clothing they possessed. Only their faces were bare to the cold, and even these were partially hidden within lowered hoods. Nevertheless, Taran could see the tears glittering in Bull’s eyes, eyes that never left the Citadel, faintly outlined against the starry sky. He could also sense the grief that constricted Bull’s great chest, and see the way the big man constantly rubbed his left arm. Unwilling though he was to intrude on Bull’s thoughts, Taran felt compelled to speak.

“It won’t be long now, Bull. We just have to have faith in her. At least we’re not sitting around the Manor, not knowing what’s going on.”

Bull started and looked round, as if he had forgotten Taran was there. Then he gave a sigh.

“Yes, I suppose you’re right. But it’s not just that.” He looked down at his hands. “She knows we’re here, Taran. She’s known all along, damn her.”

Taran frowned. “How? How could she have known?”

Bull gave a rueful grin. “It’s my fault. I should have guessed she would sense me. She’s been waiting for Robin to tell her. He’ll get it in the neck now, like I just did.”

Taran gaped. “You’ve spoken to her? What did she say?”

“I won’t repeat her exact words, but she was furious. She chewed me out at great length for putting myself, and all of you, in danger. Told me exactly what she thought of me for disobeying orders.”

Taran’s heart fell. “Did we really distress her that much? Rienne will be upset—she never wanted that.”

Bull shook his head. “Don’t worry. Once she had thoroughly worked me over and got the anger out of her system, she told me how much she loved me, and how pleased she was that we’re here. That’s always been her way. First the explosion, then the swearing, then the forgiveness.”

He sighed sadly. “We should have gone to the Citadel straight away. We would still have had the dressing-down and the foul language, but it would have been done with soon enough. Now we’re stuck here until it’s over. She ordered me to tell you all this, though. If by some evil stroke of luck Rykan wins, we’re under the strictest orders to get the hell out as soon as possible. And I had to promise on my oath to obey this time.”

“But what about Robin?” asked Taran.

“Robin will have to take care of himself. There won’t be anything we can do if he gets caught in the middle. We’d only get ourselves killed, and I don’t intend to let that happen.”

I
t was a rare and perfect dawn, the sun lifting effortlessly into a peach-colored sky. There was no wind and the air was mild. Sullyan, lying in Robin’s arms, woke to a soft chorus of birds outside the window, celebrating this early promise of spring.

She freed herself from Robin’s embrace and wrapped a robe about her body. Going to the window, she looked out over the inner courtyard, staring at the dawn. Why did it have to be so lovely? There was a very good chance that she would never see another dawn like this. Then movement behind her and strong arms coming around her stopped that train of thought, and she let Robin’s love distract her from her gloom. Hand in hand, they went into the bathing room to prepare themselves for the day. This day would decide Andaryon’s future and Albia’s future too.

They had bathed, dressed, and were eating a light breakfast by the time the Hierarch’s page appeared. Pharikian came behind him, smiling at their invitation to enter. A second page followed him, carrying a long, velvet-covered box which he placed on the table. He lifted the lid and Sullyan’s eyes widened when she saw what it contained.

Pharikian cleared his throat. “I wasn’t sure whether to do this or not, child. It was Ty Marik who convinced me I should give you the choice.”

Sullyan rose and walked slowly to the box. She stood looking down at the fine blade nestled within, beautifully polished, honed to perfection, slim and strong. She put out her left hand and gently stroked the hilt. The blade was plain and unadorned, but the wrist guard was engraved with swirls, loops, and spirals. With a sudden shock, she realized what she was looking at. Her vision blurred as she turned to the Hierarch.

“Was this my father’s blade?”

“Yes, child. It was my gift to him.”

Wonderingly, her fingers lingered over the wrist guard. Part of the design she recognized. It was as much a part of her as her own skin. The rest was less familiar, but the whole made up a representation of the psyche belonging to the man for whom the sword was made.

“I have never seen this done before. Robin, look.”

He came to stand beside her and gasped in admiration at the sword’s beauty and workmanship. Yet he didn’t realize the significance of the etched design.

“Look at the pattern on the hilt. It is a representation of my father’s psyche.”

It took a moment to sink in. Then Robin looked up in amazement. “How is that possible?”

Andaryon’s ruler smiled. “The swordsmith was a man of rare talent who could see my projection of Morgan’s pattern. He fixed it in his mind and engraved it onto the sword.” He gazed at Sullyan, who was feeling strangely reluctant to take the weapon into her hand. “I thought you might like to use it today, child, and so I give it to you now, in case you need to learn its weight and balance. But I think you will find it comes easily to your hand. Morgan was neither tall nor heavy, so it was made light and strong. Try it, Brynne.”

At his urging, Sullyan took the hilt reverently into her left hand and raised the shining blade from its box. “It balances better than my own weapon!”

The look on her face made Pharikian smile. “I thought it might. It will be good to see it used again, and I can’t think of a better time for it to leave its box.”

“Has it seen combat, Timar?” Her voice was soft. She was still admiring the beautiful length of steel.

“Many times, child. It didn’t let Morgan down then, and it won’t let you down now. Go and practice if you need to. You still have a couple of hours before we’ll call you.”

He turned to leave the room.

“Majesty?”

The formal address made him frown. “Yes, child?”

She lowered her eyes, suddenly diffident. “When we gather for the exchange of life force, may I ask you to ensure that everyone present is perfectly willing?” She raised her gaze to meet his. “This is not something that should be done lightly. I do not wish to meet Rykan knowing I carry unwillingly donated life force.”

He inclined his head. “I understand, Brynne. You need have no worries on that score. We have all agreed and deem it an honor to help you in this way. There will be no forced participants, I assure you.”

Her murmured thanks followed him as he left the room.

Sullyan spent some time out on the training ground with Robin, testing her father’s sword. The balance and weight of it were so perfect for her that it felt like an extension of her arm. In that respect, practice was unnecessary. It was the weapon’s emotional implications she had to come to terms with. The thought that her father’s hand had gripped the hilt where hers did, that his muscles had flexed and contracted as hers did, that his body had moved and responded as hers did, was constantly on her mind. Nevertheless, she moved about the arena with her accustomed lethal grace. If Rienne, who had once doubted Sullyan’s capacity to kill, had been watching her at that moment, she would have had no doubt whatsoever that her friend was an efficient and implacable killer.

Whatever else it did, the sword reaffirmed Sullyan’s faith in her own skills. Robin, facing her attacks and trusting her not to follow through on the killing thrusts, smiled grimly as he recognized the look in her eyes. Pharikian had gambled well on her reaction to her father’s sword.

Sullyan ended the session long before either of them tired, and they sat companionably in the sunlight. Joined by Ky-shan and his entire band, they engaged in weapons talk. Nothing too specific, just a commander and her unit discussing the finer points of sword play. It was just what she needed, and when the servant came to summon her for the ceremony of sharing life force, they were all amazed at how much time had passed. Sullyan found it incredible that she had actually forgotten for those few precious hours what was to happen that day. Gratefully, she smiled at her band.

“Gentlemen, I thank you for your time and your most agreeable company.”

She rose and was about to follow the servant when Ky-shan also stood, followed by Jay’el, Ki-en, Almid, and Kester. They waited expectantly as she stared, bemused.

Ky-shan bowed formally. “Lady, we want to offer our life force also, to help you beat Rykan. I know we are untrained, but we are strong. We can do nothing else to help you now, and by this offer we hope to thank you for what you did for us, for getting his Majesty to accept us and for risking your life for ours. This is our wish, and we are all in agreement. Please, Lady, don’t refuse us.”