Heir Of Novron: The Riyria Revelations (78 page)

Hours went by. Like the others, Hadrian lay on the floor drifting into and out of sleep. He dreamed he fought beside his father against shadowy creatures who were trying to kill the emperor—who looked vaguely like Alric. In another dream, he sat in the burned-out shell of The Rose and Thorn with Gwen and Albert, waiting for Royce, but Royce was late—very late. Gwen was frightened something awful had happened, and he assured her Royce could take care of himself. “Nothing,” he told her, “absolutely nothing, can keep Royce from your side, not even death.”

He woke up groggy and tired, as if he had not slept at all. The cold floor punished his muscles, leaving him stiff and sore. The air grew thin, or at least Hadrian thought so. It was not hard to breathe, but it did feel as if he were sleeping with his head under a blanket.

How much is real and how much imagination? Is the flame in the lantern dwindling?

Everyone was sleeping, Gaunt in his corner, Magnus against the wall—even Myron was asleep, surrounded by scrolls. The princess lay curled up on her side, near the center of the room. She too was asleep, her eyes closed, head on hands, her face revealed by the lantern light. She was not as young as she once had been and no longer looked like a girl. Her face was longer, her cheeks less round, and there were small lines around her mouth and eyes. Smudges of dirt
streaked her face. Her lips were chapped and dark circles formed under her eyes. Her hair was a mess. The lack of a brush left her with snarls and mats. She was beautiful, he thought, not despite these things, but because of them. Looking at her made him feel terrible. She believed in him—counted on him—and he had failed her. He had also failed Thrace and even her father. Hadrian had promised Theron that he would watch after his daughter and keep her safe. He had even failed his own father, who had left him this one last chance to bring meaning to his life.

He sighed, and as he did, he noticed Royce was not among the sleeping. The thief was not even in the room. Getting up, Hadrian stepped into the hallway and found him sitting in the dark a few feet from the mound of stones piled over Thranic’s body. He could barely see Royce, as so little of the lantern light spilled into the corridor.

Hadrian let his back slap against the corridor wall and slid down to the floor to sit beside his friend.

“I’ve finally figured it out,” Royce said.

“What, the perfect career for us? Not spelunking, I hope?”

Royce looked at him and smirked. Hadrian could see his friend only by the single shaft of light that crossed the bridge of his nose and splashed his left cheek.

“No. I realized that the key is
you—
you can’t die.”

“I’m liking this so far—I have no idea what you’re talking about, but it’s starting out good.”

“Well, think about it. This can’t be the end because you can’t die. That’s the whole thing right there.”

“Are you planning on making sense anytime soon?”

“It’s Gwen, remember? She said I had to save your life, right? She was adamant about it. Only I haven’t. Ever since she sent us out to search for Merrick, I’ve never once saved your life. So either she was wrong or we’re missing something. And
as you know, Gwen has never been wrong. We must be missing something and now I know what it is.
This
is it. This is where I save your life.”

“That’s wonderful, only how are you going to do that, pray tell?”

“Our second plan—I’m the diversion.”

“What?” Hadrian said, feeling like Royce had just hit him.

“I’ll draw the beast’s attention just like Millie did in Dahlgren and you run, get the sword, and slay it. I don’t know why I didn’t think of it sooner. It makes perfect sense.”

“You do remember what happened to Millie, right?”

“Yes,” he said simply. The single word issuing out of the darkness sounded like a verdict. “But don’t you see? This is what I’m supposed to do. I’ve even considered if this was why she died. Maybe Gwen knew
everything
. She knew we could not go off and make a life together because I needed to be here to sacrifice myself. Maybe that’s why she was on the bridge that night, maybe she went to her death for me—or rather for you and everyone else, but at least so that I could have the strength to die for you.”

“That’s a whole lot of ifs and maybes, Royce.”

“Maybe,” he said.

There was a pause.

“But it has to be,” Royce went on. “We know she had the sight. We know she knew the future. We know she planned for it, and that she said I would save your life. She knew that without me you would die, and from your death a horrible thing would occur. So if I save you now, we still have a chance to get the horn.”

“But what if the future changed? What if we did something in the meantime to alter it?”

“I don’t think it works that way. I don’t think you can alter the future. If you could, she would have seen that.”

“I don’t know,” Hadrian replied, finding it hard to discuss rationally the virtues of Royce’s killing himself.

“Okay, let me put it this way,” Royce said. “Can you think of any other way out of here?”

Hadrian was starting to feel a little sick, the air harder to breathe than before.

“So your plan is to draw it away and keep it occupied while I run for the sword?”

“Yep, you get the sword and kill it. I think I can buy you at least two minutes, but I’m hoping for as much as five. More than that I think is dreaming. After five minutes of dodging it, I will get tired and it will get frustrated to the point of using fire. I can’t dodge that. Still, even two minutes should be plenty of time to cross that room and find the sword.”

“What if it’s locked?”

“It’s not. I saw it when I was in there getting Gaunt. It’s standing open. Hadrian, you know I’m right. Besides, it’s not just you I’m thinking about. There are five other people who will die unless I do this—granted their lives don’t mean as much to me, but I know it matters to you.”

“And you’re sure you want to do this?”

“I want to do it for Gwen. Hadrian, what else do I have to live for? The only thing I have is to fulfill her last request. That’s all. After I do that…”

Hadrian closed his eyes and rapped his skull against the wall behind him, creating a dull thud. There was a pressure behind his eyes, a throbbing in his head.

“You know I’m right,” Royce said.

“What do you want? You want me to say, ‘Hooray, thanks, pal, for saving us’?”

“I don’t want anything, except for you to live—you and the rest of them—even Magnus and Gaunt. It’s what I can give you and the only thing I can give her. If I manage to save
you, and you do get this stupid horn and it saves everyone, it will make her death mean something—mine too, I suppose. That’s more than either of us could have hoped for. A prostitute and a no-good thief saving the world—it’s not a bad epitaph. You can see I’m right, can’t you?”

Hadrian let his head rest and stared out at the black. “Don’t you get tired of always being right?”

“We made a good team, didn’t we?” Royce replied. “Arcadius wasn’t such a fool putting us together after all.”

“Speak for yourself.”

“Watch it. I’m about to die to save your ass, so be nice.”

“Thanks for that, by the way.”

“Yeah, well, you’ll be happy to be rid of me. You can go back to blacksmithing in Hintindar and live a quiet happy life. Do me a favor and marry some pretty farm girl and train your son to beat the crap out of imperial knights.”

“Sure,” Hadrian told him. “And with any luck he’ll make friends with a cynical burglar who’ll do nothing but torment him.”

“With any luck.”

“Yeah,” Hadrian said. “With any luck.”

The two sat in silence for a moment. In the room, Hadrian could hear Gaunt snoring.

“We should do this sooner than later,” Royce told him. “Just in case the air is running out and while you still have plenty of water and food to escape with, right?”

“I suppose.”

“You know, when I’m dead, and it’s dead—assuming there’s anything left of me, it wouldn’t be such a bad thing if you laid me to rest in the tomb of Novron. Can’t ask for better accommodations, really, and tell Myron to say something nice, something poetic, something about Gwen and me.”

“What? No!” Arista shouted.

She was standing against the wall, a blanket pulled around her shoulders, her fingers white where they clutched the dark wool. Her head was shaking from side to side in a slow constant motion, like the ticking of a pendulum clock.

Magnus and Mauvin flanked her. Neither said a word as Royce explained the plan. In their eyes, Hadrian could see concern, but also resignation. Gaunt was up and looking hopeful, his eyes bright for the first time since they had entered the room.

“It’s the only way,” Royce assured her as he sat down on his pack, where he had left his boots. “And it will work. I know it will.”

“You’ll die!” she shouted. “You’ll die and I won’t be able to save you.”

Royce pulled his boots on. “Of course I will, and I don’t want you to,” he said, and paused a moment before adding, “It will all be over—finally.”

“No, you’ll both die, I know it.” Arista looked up at Hadrian with the same expression of terror on her face. “Don’t do this. Please.”

Hadrian turned away and unbuckled his belt, dropping his swords. He would be able to run faster without them. “Which way you gonna go, Royce?”

“Right, I think,” he said, throwing off his cloak. “That will put me on its left; maybe it’s right-handed. I’ll try to keep it busy as long as possible, but we’ll see how fast it is. I’m going to try to sneak to the right corner and get as far in as possible before I draw its attention, so wait for me to yell. With luck, you’ll have an open field to run across.”

“You’re doing it now?” The princess’s head was shaking even faster.

Hadrian leaned against the wall and stretched his legs, then jogged in place for a few seconds. “No sense putting it off.”

“Please,” Arista begged in little more than a whisper. Taking a step toward Hadrian, she reached out and then stopped.

Royce approached Magnus, who took a step back. The thief reached into his cloak and pulled out Alverstone, still in its sheath. He held it out to the dwarf. “I was wondering if you could watch after this for me.”

“Are you serious?” the dwarf asked.

Royce nodded.

Slowly, warily, Magnus touched the weapon gingerly with both hands, cradling it like a newborn.

“You’re really going to do this?” the dwarf asked, nodding at the Vault of Days.

“It’s all that’s left to try.”

“I—I could go,” Magnus said, still looking at the dagger. “I could take a lantern—”

“With your little legs?” Royce laughed. “You’d just get Hadrian killed.”

Magnus looked up, his brows running together, his lips shifting as if he were chewing something. “I should be the last person…” The dwarf stopped.

“Let’s just say recent events have made me realize I’ve done a number of things I shouldn’t have. Bad things. Worse, I suppose, than what you’ve done. Right now, hating you seems… stupid.” Royce smiled.

The dwarf nodded. “I’ll—I’ll hold on to it for you, take good care of it, but just until you need it again.”

Royce nodded and moved to the door. He reached up and drew back the seals. “Shall we, partner?”

“See you on the other side, pal.”

Hadrian threw his arms around the thief and, surprisingly, felt Royce hug him back. With one final smile, Royce pushed open the door and disappeared into the darkness of the Vault of Days.

Hadrian waited at the doorway. He could not see anything, nor could he hear a sound, but he did not expect to.

“Do you want the lantern?” Myron whispered.

“No,” Hadrian replied. “I’ll run faster without it, but maybe the princess could stand here and make her robe bright when I start to run.” He said this without turning, without looking at her.

“Of… course,” he heard her say, her voice strained, stalling in her throat.

They all waited, staring into the black room, listening carefully. Hadrian peered into the dark, trying to guess where it was, where either of them was.

“Hadrian, I—” Arista began in a whisper and he felt a light hand on the small of his back.