Deborah Hale (29 page)

“The Han are not the only danger to be feared. What sort of lawlessness have they left behind?”

The question caught Rath like a surprise blow. In his eagerness to prove he had changed and would not hold Maura too tight, had he let her take too great a risk?

“I would not send my wife into danger! I told you, she took an able escort—several men I would trust with my life. And you are a fine one to talk. You sent her off into the heart of Hanish territory with only that feckless brother of yours for protection! It is a wonder he didn’t get her killed or captured a dozen times over.”

“Do not speak ill of my brother!” Idrygon’s fists clenched at his sides, and he took a threatening step toward Rath. “Delyon returned safely from Westborne, with your wife and word of where to find the staff. Not to mention vital information about how the Han mean to press their attack against us.”

“Information Maura gathered!” Rath shook his forefinger under Idrygon’s nose. “She was the one who delivered
him
safely from Westborne, not the other way around. In the company of a few capable men, she could probably cut a swath through the High Governor’s army.”

Idrygon spun about on his heel. “I will send out a search party.”

“You will not!” Rath grabbed him by the sleeve. “Maura said she would return tonight and she will. I do not want her thinking I doubted her.”

“Keep your hands off me!” Idrygon batted away Rath’s hold on him. “Fie, but I am sick of having to keep you in line!”

“No more than I am sick of being kept in line by you!” Rath
drew back his fist, ready to strike a blow that would make Idrygon’s ears ring.

“Stop!” The urgency of Maura’s voice stayed his hand. “What is going on here?”

Relief at seeing her safe made Rath forget his quarrel with Idrygon.
“Aira!”
He caught her in his arms and lifted her off her feet. “What kept you?”

Before she could answer, Idrygon spoke, his tone as over-bearing and scornful as ever. “And what possessed you to sneak off like that in the first place?”

“She didn’t
sneak
anywhere.” Rath lowered her to the floor again, remembering some unfinished business. “She asked permission from me, her husband and her king. I agreed it would do her good to enjoy a day’s peace with her friend after all she has been through these past weeks.”

Ignoring Rath’s quarrelsome tone, Idrygon directed his gaze and words at Maura instead. “I expected better of you. Think what might have happened if you’d run into a Hanish patrol. You wouldn’t have wanted that…would you?”

Idrygon was in for it now! Rath stood back and crossed his arms, waiting for Maura to bite his head off.

But she did not. Instead, she hung
her
head and answered meekly. “You are right, my lord. I entreat your pardon.”

“What are you saying,
aira
?” Rath wondered if his hearing had gone bad. “You cannot mean that.”

“I do mean it.” She turned to him with a look more troubled than this whole matter warranted. “With so much hanging in the balance, I should not have risked going to Windleford. I wanted so badly to see Sorsha again I did not think through what could have happened.”

That made sense, though Rath did not want to make her feel worse, and he grudged admitting Idrygon might be right. “But nothing did happen. You saw Sorsha. You got back here a little late, but safe. You didn’t meet up with any Han.”

“No. We saw no Han.” Maura’s glance flitted sidelong to
Idrygon. In the flickering light of a single lantern her face looked pale.

Had something happened that she did not want to confess in Idrygon’s presence?

She must confess the truth to Rath, Maura’s conscience urged her as she lay awake beside him that night.

Both Sorsha and Delyon had claimed her parentage did not change who she was. Of course, Delyon had wasted no time sharing her sworn secret with his brother, so how far could she trust his word?

Besides, neither Sorsha nor Delyon had suffered as much from the Han as Rath had. Remembering his look of aversion when she’d mentioned introducing him to Songrid, Maura sensed his feelings for her could not help but be poisoned when he learned her true identity.
The by-blow of a death-mage and an Umbrian traitor.

She fell into a fitful doze with those ugly words slithering in her mind. They spawned disturbing dreams in which she found herself back at Beastmount Mine, wearing the dark robes and mask of a death-mage and wielding a lethal gem wand. She felt herself being seduced by the tempting lure of power, unable to resist.

The din of horns and drums jolted her awake.

“By Bror!” Rath sat up and dragged a hand over his face. “Morning already?”

Idrygon strode into the tent.

“Do you mean to make a habit of this?” snapped Rath.

“Save your outrage! Make ready at once. We have just received word that the fleet from Dun Derhan has landed and the first of their troops are on the move. We must reach Aldwood and take up our position while there is still time.”

“Curse them!” Rath was on his feet beginning to dress before Idrygon finished speaking. “Can we spare some men to divert them or slow them down?”

Their hostilities of the past evening forgotten, the two men quickly thrashed out a plan, which Idrygon marched off to set in motion. Once he had gone, Maura rose and began to dress.

When she saw Rath throw open the chest and take out the ingredients of the growth potion, she flew to his side. “Must you do this,
aira
? I heard how Anulf and the others spoke of your part in the mine uprising. You do not need these kinds of tricks to be a great leader.”

She tapped her fingers against his chest. “It is in you—here. Not your size or the loudness of your voice that inspires people to follow you.”

Part of him wanted to heed her, Maura could tell. He hesitated for a moment, perhaps remembering the pain that had not eased because it had become familiar.

Then he shook his head. “If we are to have any hope of defeating the Han, we will need every advantage we can muster on our side, however small. Now is not the time to shake the faith of our followers with a truth they are not ready to hear.”

Maura winced in anticipation of the pain that would soon rack him. A pain she would be powerless to relieve.

“Don’t fret, now.” He pressed a kiss to her brow. “I will not have to do this much longer. Off you go. I’ll come find you when it’s over.”

“You will not!” Maura clung to him. “If you have the fortitude to bear this, I will not run away and leave you to suffer it alone because I am too much a coward to watch.”

“Very well.” He mixed the potion. “I do not have time to argue with you,
aira.
”

Rath’s transformation wrenched her heart as fiercely as it wrenched his body. But she held him and caressed him, crooning every foolish endearment she would summon that might provide the tiniest scrap of comfort.

Once he had recovered, he gathered her in a brief, gentle embrace. “Thank you for staying,
aira.
It helped me remember why I am doing this.”

“I just wish you did not have to,” muttered Maura, still not convinced it was necessary.

As she helped Rath don his armor, they ate hurriedly from a tray of food that had been brought. Then they mounted their horses and rode out to rally their forces.

“Let every rider take a second man pillion!” Maura ordered. She sought out Songrid to ride with her as an example.

Word quickly spread through the ranks of the approaching Hanish force. The pace of the marchers satisfied even Idrygon, who sent a handpicked unit of Vestan archers off to slow the Hanish advance with strategic ambushes.

The rebels covered a good deal of ground that day. Not even stopping to eat or drink, the men took food while they marched from the wagons that moved through the ranks distributing bread, cheese and strips of dried spiced meat.

Even after the sun had set in fiery splendor behind the Blood Moon Mountains, Idrygon insisted they keep marching at least another hour before he let them stop and make camp. By the time Rath’s tent had been erected and he took refuge inside for what was left of the night, Maura could see his armor hung upon his shrinking frame.

When she and Songrid dismounted, she heard Delyon call out to the Hanish woman. “There you are! I was beginning to worry when I couldn’t find you.”

He shrank back when Maura turned on him with a blistering glare. “I—I have been keeping guard on her.”

“Have you, indeed?” Maura dropped her voice to a harsh whisper. “I hope you are better at it than you are at guarding your tongue! How could you, Delyon?”

“I’m sorry, Maura! I didn’t mean to say anything, but when Idrygon ordered Songrid executed, I said something I shouldn’t in the heat of the moment. There never was a secret my brother couldn’t worm out of me if he tried. I still do not understand why it matters so much.”

She had neither the time nor the energy to make him under
stand. The way he looked at Songrid, Maura suspected it would be a wasted effort. “I know you did not mean me harm, Delyon, but you have done me harm all the same.”

A while later, she trudged into Rath’s tent, eager to throw herself onto the bedroll and sleep. She barely stifled a groan when she found Idrygon already there engaged in a heated argument with Rath.

“Do the two of you do this every night?” She yawned. “Sorsha tells me her boys quarrel when they are tired. Why not wait and talk in the morning when you are in a better temper?”

“Perhaps you are right.” Idrygon did not look tired as he turned to answer her. “A decent rest might make your pigheaded husband better able to see sense.”

“I could sleep as long as King Elzaban,” snapped Rath, “and it still would not change my mind. We have enough blood on our hands already. I will not fight our countrymen. There has to be another way!”

They must be talking about Aldwood, Maura realized, and how to deal with Vang.

“Countrymen?” Idrygon sneered. “They are nothing but common outlaws! Who cares whether they live or die?”

“The Giver cares.” Rath’s voice rang with certainty. “And so should we. I was a common outlaw, don’t forget. I will ride ahead tomorrow and hold talks with Vang. I’m sure I can convince him to join with us. That will strengthen our numbers to fight the Han and spare any more damage to the old castle.”

Maura slipped past Idrygon to stand beside Rath. Twining her fingers in his, she gave his hand a squeeze. She had never been prouder of him! He had truly learned to use his wits and his heart to solve problems instead of always relying on force. And he had made a good case for his decision, on grounds that should make sense even to a man like Idrygon. Now surely the argument would end and they could all get some sleep.

“Out of the question.” Idrygon dashed her hopes. “You know this Vang creature, do you, from your outlaw days?”

“Aye. He is a hard man, but no fool. I had thought the same of you. Now I wonder. What harm can there be in sparing bloodshed?”

Idrygon paid no heed to Rath’s insult. “If you hold talks with this brigand, you would surely be recognized and your identity exposed. We cannot afford that now.”

He shifted his gaze to Maura. “Talk some sense into your husband, Highness.”

She knew an order…and a threat when she heard one.

“Perhaps Lord Idrygon has a point, Rath.” She could not bring herself to meet his gaze as she spoke.

“What point,
aira
? That it is a good idea to slaughter anyone who gets in our way?”

“No. Just that we do not have much time and…” She reminded herself how the bandit chief and his men had taken her hostage and what worse things they might have done if Rath had not rescued her. It was foolish weakness to risk her happiness on their account.

Weakness? The notion seethed in her mind. It was Hanish thinking to regard justice and compassion as a sign of weakness. If she believed that, then perhaps she was one of them, after all—deserving of Rath’s suspicion and contempt.

“
Aira,
what is it?”

“There’s something I should have told you…” She braced herself for the aversion she would see in his eyes when she finished speaking. “While I was in Venard I discovered…”

“Careful, Highness,” warned Idrygon, but she refused to heed him.

“…that my father was Hanish. A death-mage.”

“A what?” Rath’s hand fell slack in hers.

Though Maura ached to take back her confession, her throat felt as if a noose had been loosened from around it.

H
anish—Maura?

Rath wondered if someone had blown a puff of madfern in his face. Or perhaps he was just so exhausted he was hearing things. What would make Maura blurt out something so unbelievable?

“H-how can that be?”

“Remember I told you about that chamber I discovered under the palace—the one with the crystal?” Maura’s voice sounded so tight and plaintive. “What I didn’t tell you was that a death-mage was there, as well, just when my invisibility was wearing off. When he saw me, he called me by my mother’s name.”

She choked out the rest of the story. Only after she had finished did Rath realize she’d been speaking in Hanish.

“Aira!”
He began to laugh and couldn’t stop. “This is the best news I have heard in weeks!”

He grabbed Maura about the waist and swung her around so hard, he almost knocked over one of the tent poles.

“Good news?”
cried Idrygon. “Have you lost your wits?”

“Good news, indeed!” Rath set Maura on her feet and clung to her as his head spun.

It was a pleasant kind of dizziness, though. His hunger and weariness faded. Even Idrygon, for some of his wrongheaded ideas, didn’t seem such a bad fellow suddenly.

“This makes everything all right,
aira.
” He cradled her face in his hands, stroking her cheek with one thumb. “You see, the Oracle of Margyle told me my heir would have Hanish blood. I thought that meant I would lose you, one way or another. That’s why I was so set against your going to Westborne…with Delyon.”

Maura looked deep into his eyes and seemed to read what had been in his heart. “You feared I would be killed or…”

That
or
seemed so daft now. “It was not you I mistrusted,
aira.
I just couldn’t imagine another man
not
falling in love with you.”

“You are daft, Rath Talward, to think you had anything to fear from Delyon.” She glanced toward Idrygon. “In fact, it was he who betrayed me to his brother, though I doubt he meant to.”

“Betrayed?” He did not like the sound of that.

“Highness—” Idrygon dropped into his tone of calm persuasion “—I can explain.”

“
Highness
is it, now? A few moments ago it was
daft fool.
As for explaining, you will get your chance. First I will hear what my wife has to say.”

She had looked as joyfully dazed by his response to her confession as he had been to hear it. But now her expression darkened. “When Lord Idrygon found out my secret, he threatened to tell you unless I helped convince you to go along with his wishes. Just now, for example, about attacking Aldwood rather than trying to persuade Vang to join us.”

“I said no such thing!” cried Idrygon. “I swear it by all the ancient prophesies. I would swear it upon the Staff of Velorken itself!”

Those were solemn oaths, indeed. Rath doubted Idrygon would make them lightly. But why would Maura level such a serious charge if were not so?

“Perhaps he did not say it in quite those words. But his
meaning was clear enough. Remember this morning, when you caught us arguing?”

“Aye. About that Hanish woman…Songrid.”

“About
this
Hanish woman.” Maura tapped her chest with her fingers. “Idrygon said if she cooperated, there would be no need to press the matter further.”

“That?” Idrygon shook his head. “I fear you misunderstood my meaning, Highness, and read more into my words than was ever intended.”

“Liar!” Maura lunged toward him, but Rath caught her and held her back. “Your threat was plenty clear enough.”

“Perhaps it is the way of your people to imagine threats where none exist.”

“They are
not
my people!” Maura lifted her gaze to Rath. “You do not believe him, do you,
aira
?”

It was one thing to believe, but another to prove. “I only know what I heard. It could be that you mistook Lord Idrygon’s meaning…”

“I did not!” Maura struggled against Rath’s grasp. “He had said nothing about Songrid before you arrived. I know what he meant, whatever double-bladed words he used to mask his true intent.”

She might hate him for what he was about to do, but Rath must risk it. “This is too important a matter to decide now when we are all weary and feeling the strain of what lies ahead. Let us sleep on it and ask the Giver’s wisdom. We cannot afford to squander our energy squabbling among ourselves when we are facing the fight of our lives.”

Some of the tension melted out of Maura as she pondered his words, but she refused to meet his gaze or Idrygon’s.

“I would rather sleep than quarrel.” She pulled away from Rath and sank onto his bedroll. “Right now, I would rather sleep than do anything.”

“Wise advice, sire.” Idrygon bowed and backed out to the tent. “I will leave you to your rest. I trust the truth will appear clearer in the morning.”

Dragging a hand down his face, Rath muttered, “Sometimes the truth must be sacrificed for more important things.”

“Spoken like a true king, Highness.” Idrygon sounded pleasantly surprised as he disappeared into the night.

“A true king?” Rath glanced down at Maura. This time she did not look away. “I was afraid of that.”

In between removing pieces of his armor, he wolfed down the cold supper that had been brought for him earlier. When he had stripped down to a light shirt, he felt Maura’s arms slip around his chest from behind and her head press against his back. “You do believe me, don’t you,
aira
?”

“Aye.” He sighed. “But what am I to do? This army is a weapon of Idrygon’s forging. I cannot wield it without him.”

“I understand.”

“If all goes well, I promise you Idrygon will be made to answer for his actions once this is over.”

“And if all does not go well?”

“Put that from your mind,
aira.
” Rath twisted around to take her in his arms. “After what I learned from you just now, I feel more hopeful than I ever have.”

“Indeed, and why is that?”

“The Oracle of Margyle said my heir would have Hanish blood, which must mean you will bear me a child.” He lowered his hand to rest on her belly. “Are you…yet?”

Maura replied with a slow, regretful shake of her head.

Rath refused to be discouraged. “Then that must mean we will both survive to breed our heir.”

She seemed to savor the notion. “I reckon it must.”

“And the child would not be much of an heir if it had nothing to inherit, would it?”

“I…reckon not. Does that mean we should trust in the Giver’s providence?”

“I know it has asked a good deal of us.” Rath tilted her chin for a kiss. “But it has not let us down yet.”

“No, it hasn’t. Do you suppose, if we ask nicely, it might show
us a way to avoid a battle over Aldwood, without having to fight Lord Idrygon?”

Rath gave a hopeful shrug. “After tonight, I would not put anything past it.”

A few hours later Delyon stared at the vial of growth potion in Maura’s hand. “I’m not sure I can do this. If my brother finds out, he will have my head.”

Rath looked equally doubtful, but Maura was convinced this would be their best chance to secure Aldwood without a bloody battle they could ill afford. The idea had come to her just before she drifted off to sleep—sent by the Giver, perhaps?

She thrust the vial toward Delyon. “Did you mean what you said? About making amends to me for telling Idrygon the secret you swore to keep?”

She had warned him the transformation would be painful, but he seemed more worried about incurring Idrygon’s disapproval.

“I did.” Delyon grimaced as he grabbed the vial and tipped it to his lips. He grimaced even worse when he had swallowed the contents. “Fie, that is foul!”

“So it is.” Now that he had taken the potion, Maura could let herself feel a twinge of pity for him. “And Rath has had to drink it every morning for weeks. I doubt it will kill you to take it once.”

“I’m not so sure.” Delyon spoke through gritted teeth as his features clenched in a spasm of pain.

“It will pass, I promise you.” Rath wrapped his arm around Delyon’s shoulders. “Try to fix your mind on something else. One of your scrolls, perhaps.”

The anxious set of his features told Maura he would rather swallow the horrible potion himself than watch helpless while someone else took it.

Delyon’s gaze strayed to the corner of the tent where Songrid had put on Maura’s gown.

The Hanish woman stared back at him with an anxious ex
pression that bordered on panic. “My people are taught to hide their pain, for it is a sign of weakness.”

“There is more than one kind of strength,” said Maura.

Leaving Rath to distract Delyon with murmured words of encouragement, she tried to divert Songrid.

“Put this on.” She handed the woman her cloak. “And make certain you keep the hood drawn over your hair. Now, do you remember everything else you must do?”

Songrid nodded as she pulled the cloak around her shoulders and tied it securely. “I must ride near Delyon. We must go where his brother can see us, but not too close. We must make him believe we are you.”

“That’s right.” Maura gave her an encouraging smile.

“But what if he comes close?” Poor Songrid! She must wonder if she had traded one kind of trouble for another. “He will be angry if he finds out this trick. Again he may order me killed.”

“After last night, Idrygon will want to keep his distance.” Was she trying to convince Songrid and Delyon, Maura wondered, or herself? If Idrygon discovered their ruse, it would be just like him to take his anger out on the one person least able to defend herself.

“Do not fear, Songrid,” said Delyon. His voice already sounded deeper and stronger. “I will not let
anyone
harm you.”

Is that how it was between these two? Maura stifled a smile. And did either of them realize it yet?

When the worst of Delyon’s pain had faded and he’d stretched a full foot taller, Rath helped him don the Waiting King’s armor.

Then he grabbed Maura by the hand. “Now we must ride if your plan is to do any good.”

They pulled up their hoods and kept their heads down as they left the tent. Rath saddled a swift horse. Then he hoisted Maura up behind him and they headed off toward Aldwood.

“Do you reckon this will work?” Maura asked when they had ridden well out of sight of the camp.

Rath nodded. “We will make it work!”

They rode as hard as they dared for several hours until at last they crested a bit of rising ground and found Aldwood spread before them. Several thin plumes of smoke rose from within the eaves of the ancient forest and a single tower jutted up through the lofty treetops. A chill of old fear slid through Maura as she remembered her previous visit to Aldwood.

Collecting the last scraps of
genow
scales she and Delyon had been able to forage from their sashes, Maura cast the invisibility spell upon herself.

Rath glanced back to make certain he could not see her. “I hope Vang Spear of Heaven will listen to reason.”

He urged the horse toward Aldwood at an unthreatening pace. When a challenge rang out and several archers rose from behind a row of tall tree stumps aiming arrows at him, he reined to a halt and raised his arms in the air.

“Does Vang Spear of Heaven still hold this place?” he called.

Maura gave him a quick embrace, then slipped from the horse’s back.

“Aye, who else?” came the reply to his question. “Who wants to know?”

“Rath the Wolf bids you thanks for your answer. I was a guest here in the spring and—”

“What, the one who fought Turgen, then disappeared?”

“The very one. Now I come with vital news for your leader. If he is still as canny as he once was, he will listen to me.”

It seemed Vang was canny enough, for a short time later Rath stood before the bandit chief. Vang looked as menacing as ever with his scarred face and one empty eye socket. But his shaggy mane was thinning and going gray.

“Ye have gall, Wolf, I’ll say that for ye—showing yer face back here after ye foxed me out of my prisoner and that fine sash. Not to mention lifting a purse and a good nag. Have ye come back to settle yer account after all this time?”

Rath pondered Vang’s greeting for a moment then pulled a
wry face. “I reckon we parted with accounts even between us. Your nag and the coins for mine and our supplies. I did you a favor taking that rascal Turgen down a peg. I knew you would want to reward me, so I saved you the bother by collecting my own prize.”

The hulking bandit chief leaned back in his great throne, hewn from a tree trunk. He tried to scowl, but one corner of his mouth arched up in a grudging grin. “That gall will land ye in trouble one day, Wolf. What brings ye back to Aldwood? News, I hear?”

Rath nodded. “News and an offer. The first you would be wise to heed and second you would be wise to accept.”

“What is your news—that the Waiting King has chased the Han out of the Long Vale? That is an old tale now and of no great interest to me. Why should I care who sits in Venard collecting the taxes? In this little corner of the kingdom, I am lord and collect my own levy in my own way.”

Rath shook his head and clucked his tongue as if disappointed in Vang’s answer. “Your scouts must be cautious these days, not venturing far from home, or they would have brought you fresher news. The Waiting King’s army is marching toward Aldwood, a few hours on my heels at most. They are many, they are desperate and they are led by a man every bit as ruthless as you. If you try to stand against them, I promise you a slaughter.”

“A slaughter, is it?” Vang leaped up, shaking his great ham of a fist. “I will give them a slaughter if they come looking for one!” He hesitated, as if struck by a surprise blow from behind. “But what makes them desperate? Why should the Waiting King want a tumbledown castle on the edge of nowhere?”

“Because two Hanish armies are closing in on his force and this is the nearest spot he can hope to defend.” Rath did not mention the Staff of Velorken. The less Vang knew about that, the better. “I reckon you might stave off the rebels for a while, but it would only leave you and them weakened for that horde of Han…just the way fighting me
would have weakened you to fend off a challenge from Turgen. You chose the wise course once, Vang. Choose wisely again.”