Maylin's Gate (Book 3) (6 page)

Ronan sat bolt upright and craned his neck around the room. Sweat clung to his tunic and his legs felt heavy trapped beneath a pile of quilts and blankets. His tongue flapped in his mouth like a dry piece of leather and tasted like a dirty sock.

A layer of frost coated the window pane nestled in the room’s far wall. Dim light filtered through and dingy shadows hung in the bedroom's corners. Bundles of dried sweet grass hung from the ceiling above a fireplace near the end of his bed. Garlic, chamomile, mushrooms, and jars filled with strange powders lined a shelf above an open door.

A figure sat in a chair beside the hearth carving a warped piece of aged cherry.

Rika. His head throbbed with pain.

Rika’s head swiveled toward the bed and back to the door. “Connal. Mistress Henley. He’s awake.” Rika tossed aside the carving and leaped from the chair.

“Rika, where am I?” His head pulsed with fresh pain and he winced.

“You’re in the village of Forth.” Rika poured water from a wooden pitcher into a rough-hewn stone mug and crossed the room to his bedside.

“Whose home is this?”

“Mistress Henley’s,” Rika said. “She’s the village herbalist.”

“Herbalist? What of our healers?”

Connal crossed beneath the doorway and entered the room followed by a short plump woman in a gray woolen smock. Ayralen’s Prime Guardian stopped at the end of the bed and peered over him with brow furrowed.

Connal’s serious expression sent a ruffle of dread through his stomach. His father didn’t appear a man bearing good news.

He took the mug from Rika and drained its contents in a single swallow. How many times had he ended up in a sick bed? He’d lost count. “What happened? And don’t hold back. We don’t have time for coddling. We need to stop the baeriense advance in the pass. Is Devery ready to leave?”

Connal’s brow furrowed and his father glanced at Rika.

Rika’s mouth fell open before sitting on the bed beside him. Rika’s hand found his and stroked with a soothing touch. “What do you remember Ronan?”

“We were on our way to the pass,” he said. “I’d hidden our advance beneath a shield. Were we ambushed? Where’s Devery?”

“We were at the pass,” Connal said. “You built the curtain just as we planned.”

He licked his lips and shook his head. “What are you talking about? Have you gone mad?” He glanced between Connal and Rika.

Neither spoke and stared at him as if someone had died.

“Where’s Devery? Or the volunteers in our crew?”

Connal stared into his eyes and kept silent for several long moments. “I think you need more sleep first. We can talk after —”

Rage flashed and his head screamed with pain. “What happened?”

“Ronan, you’re not well,” Rika said. “Please.”

Mistress Henley approached holding a glass container filled with a murky green liquid. “Drink this, Your Majesty. The sassafras and ginger will ease the pain in your head.”

He reached out with a trembling hand and latched onto the strange brew. He tipped the container back and let the vile mixture slide down his throat. His mouth puckered and his taste buds protested until the bitterness faded.

Mistress Henley stepped back and bowed to Rika. “The remedy should dull the pain, but I can’t do anything for the rest.”

“Thank you Mistress Henley,” Rika said. “You’ve done a great service for your country.”

The old woman blushed and smiled. “You’re giving an old herbalist too much credit, but I thank you for the kind words. If you be needing anything else, just pop your head out the door. I won’t be far away.” Mistress Henley bowed toward Connal and Rika then left the room.

As Mistress Henley promised, the pain in his head eased along with his temper. He rubbed his temples and leaned against the headboard.

Connal pulled up a rickety wooden side chair to his bedside and sat. “We made it to the pass. We weren’t ambushed.”

“I don’t remember,” he said.

“You built the curtain just as you thought you could,” Connal said. “You used the soul energy from the militiamen.”

“Did it work?” He said.

Connal nodded. “For a time it did, but you lost control of the power.”

Flashes of sound and light rattled in his head. A memory sharp and painful. He winced and rubbed his head.

“Ronan, maybe I should ask Mistress Henley for some more medicine,” Rika said.

He shook his head. “I’m fine. Go on father.”

“The curtain grew out of control,” Connal said. “It flared outward and killed hundreds of the witch’s creatures.”

The image of Tara’s porcelain-white face and blood-red lips flashed through his mind. “Yes.” He hissed the word as pain flared in his head.

“The baeriense retreated toward Ripool, but….”

“The curtain exploded.” The words came out a bare throaty whisper.

“Yes,” Connal said voice husky with emotion.

His hands trembled and he ran his fingers through his sweat-soaked hair. “Devery. I need to see Devery.”

“Ronan.” Tears filled Rika’s eyes and her chin quivered.

“No. In Elan’s name, no.” He buried his face in his hands and his body shook. Tears came sharp and sudden flowing down his cheeks.

“Son, Devery understood the risk,” Connal said. “He wouldn’t blame you.”

“I had no business channeling that spell.” He stared at this father through tear-filled eyes. “I’m not Elan! I’m not God!”

“It’s my fault,” Connal said. “I never should have pushed you to attack.”

He shook his head. “I could’ve told you no. I was so full of myself. So full of my own blind arrogance. This is beyond me.”

Rika sat on the bed and rubbed his back. “You did what you had to do. If not you, who? You had no choice.”

He wiped the tears from his face. “There’s always a choice. My choice cost Devery along with every man on that mountain.”

“We’ll go back to Freehold and —”

“No Rika. We’ll not go back to Freehold,” he said voice filled with rage. “You and father will go find Sir Alcott.”

“I can’t leave you,” Rika said.

“You don’t understand.” He gazed into Rika’s watery eyes. “I can’t be with you Rika. If any harm came to you or the baby….” He choked on the words and paused to suppress a wave of grief. The thought of harming Rika left him nauseous. “If I hurt you or the baby, I could not live through the pain.”

“Where would you go?” Connal said. “You can’t run away from the world when it needs you most. Millions more could die without your help.”

“I understand father, and I thank you for the reminder.”

“You asked for no coddling,” Connal said. “You’re a grown man and you have truths to face.”

He glared at his father. “I’ll find Moira. The dragons can teach me how to control whatever it is I’ve become. I’m a danger to everyone until I learn.”

“Fine. I’ll take you,” Rika said.

He barked out a short bitter laugh. “Not a chance. Did you not hear me? I’ll not channel another drop of magic in your presence.”

“Then I’ll take you,” Connal said.

He shook his head. “I’ll not risk your life either. Besides, you’re Ayralen’s Prime Guardian, and a better leader than I ever was.”

“Ronan, this is madness,” Rika said.

“I’ve ordered the evacuation of every village along the coast,” he said. “The witch will not have any more humans to feast on. She can kill the bloody baeriense all she wants, but she won’t take another human life.”

“You don’t have to channel magic,” Rika said. “Just let me take you to Moira’s.”

“You and Rika should go find Sir Alcott in the Trinity Range,” he said.

“What’s he doing there?” Connal said.

“He’s excavating the site where Danielle found the Book of Order. He has a theory about the site. I’m sure he’ll be glad to explain when you see him.”

Connal nodded.

“The baerinese will move inland through the ports along the coast,” he said. “You need to gather an army, but I’m sure I don’t need to tell you that.”

“When will you be back?” Connal said.

He shook his head. “When I figure out who I am.”

“How will you get there?” Rika said. “Surely you don’t plan on walking.”

“Didn’t we capture one of those baerinese birds?” He said.

Connal nodded. “It’s called a draco. But, the beast won’t let a human near it let alone mount and command it.”

“Is the baeriense soldier you captured still alive?” He said.

“Yes, he’s in the village,” Connal said. “Your detention shield is still holding.”

He nodded. “He’ll teach me.”

CHAPTER ELEVEN

Arber Reborn

Danielle rolled the silver key between her fingers. Detailed engravings adorned the key's head.

Behind her, Lora's and Elan's Spheres hummed in suspension.

With brow furrowed, Arber tracked the key twisting through her fingers. Curiosity touched the old guardian's eyes.

"What is it Arber?" She said.

"It's familiar somehow...."

Her head spun. "How so?"

Arber's gaze never left the key. "I remember seeing that key somewhere. Or one just like it."

"Where?" She leaned forward and pushed the key into Arber's palm. "Try to remember. It's important."

Arber's hand closed around the key. "I was in Zen."

"Was the emperor with you?"

Arber nodded. "They were whipping me. Sorcerers and shaman everywhere."

"What did you see?"

Arber's eyes closed. "They stopped the beating long enough for me to catch my breath. Martell was there begging them to stop. He told them I had information critical to the emperor."

"Did Martell have the key?"

Eyes squeezed shut, Arber's head shook. "Around the same time, a sorcerer came into the emperor's throne room."

"Who?"

"You've seen him. When we caught you at the forest's edge."

"I remember many sorcerers," she said.

"Do you remember Aren?"

Her stomach sank. "I remember."

"Aren handed the emperor something," Arber said. "It was trapped in Trace's palm, but I saw a flash of silver."

"Did you see him use it?"

Arber's shoulders sagged. "No. I'm sorry. The beatings started again soon after that, and I didn't see the emperor until the next day." Arber set the key on the table.

She picked up the key and stared hoping it might speak. "I wonder if it unlocks a door in the emperor's palace."

Arber shrugged. "There's no way of telling for sure. I doubt Trace would tell you."

She held the key near the light from a nearby candle.

An engraving ran along the key's barrel. "Arber, look at this." Her eyes widened and she leaned forward examining the key.

Arber bent over and squinted at the engraving. "I don't recognize those words."

"Neither do I. Maybe it's an ancient Ayralen dialect?"

"Those symbols are strange. Henri LaCasse might recognize them."

Her head snapped up surprised to hear the Ayralen scholar's name. "Is he in Freehold?"

Arber nodded. "I saw him a couple of weeks ago. He made it out of Ayralen."

"Do you know where I can find him?" She said.

"I'm not sure where he's staying. The last time I saw him, he was working with Sir Alcott on a new project."

"Why doesn't that surprise me," she said. "Those two could've been separated at birth."

Arber raised an eyebrow half suppressing a grin.

She smiled realizing too late what she'd said.

Arber sighed and leaned over fondling the pendant lying beside the heartwood seed. "I bet Trace knows what it means." Arber let go a short bitter laugh. "A lot of good that will do us."

"It couldn't hurt to ask him." She stole a quick glance toward Arber. "Right?"

"I suppose not, but could you trust anything he told you?" Arber said. "His information might lead you to the middle of the desert."

She couldn't argue, but what choice did she have?

Arber pushed away from the desk and stood. "I think we've taken this as far as we can Danielle. I'm sorry I couldn't provide more help."

"Sorry? You found the key," she said.

"I suppose I did." Arber half-covered a yawn.

"I'm sorry Arber. I didn't mean to keep you here so late."

"It's no trouble, but if we're done here, I'll take my leave." Arber nodded and turned to leave.

"Arber. Can you wait another minute please?"

Arber paused and turned around to face her. "Is something else bothering you?"

"I've been meaning to ask you something, but what with the investigation I haven't had a chance."

"What's wrong?"