Sovereign (8 page)

At least it finally taught
me
that
, he admitted to himself, and felt proud of the fact he was young and smart enough to adapt. Areava and her mother had been right all along. The provinces needed to be—deserved to be!—brought into the everyday decisions that were made on their behalf in the royal palace far away on Kestrel Bay. Grenda Lear certainly could not afford to ignore people like Charion.

Galen marvelled at the work the people of Daavis had done in preparing their city for a siege, and at the sacrifices they were prepared to make. He saw some streets where not one house remained standing, their stone cannibalised for the walls. In their place were makeshift shelters of canvas and sheeting, old wood and blankets.

Acknowledging the crowd with a broad smile, he wished he had earned all this gratitude. Setting up a series of outposts was not exactly the gallant work he and his knights had trained for and dreamed about. His smile waned when he remembered the battle against Lynan. They had earned something that day, he thought. But at what a cost. Half his knights dead on the field. It would be another generation at least before the Twenty Houses could field a full regiment of cavalry again.

Charion herself was waiting for them before the palace. She was mounted on her show horse, a fine-boned white stallion that was too delicate to actually ride to war, and wearing the crown of Hume. Her clothes looked bedraggled, but Galen thought she still managed to look regal, even imperious. Galen dismounted and bowed slightly before her. The cheering went up a notch.

'We were not expecting such a warm welcome,' he admitted to Charion.

'They are encouraging you to stay,' she said. She caught his gaze. 'Are you going to?'

'Unless Queen Areava orders us elsewhere, we will stay.' He returned her stare. 'Have you received such a communication?'

Charion smiled thinly. 'Not yet, although I've received one from her chancellor.'

'Orkid Gravespear?' Galen could not help the distaste in his voice. He immediately felt ashamed: his newfound generosity to the provinces obviously did not extend to Orkid, even though he was Sendarus's uncle. 'What did he have to say?'

Charion dismounted now and offered her arm to Galen, who took it. Charion nodded to Farben who indicated to the rest of the knights to follow him. Charion and Galen then walked into the palace.

'The chancellor says Areava lost her baby.'

Galen gasped in surprise. 'I did not even know she was pregnant.'

'Does she usually reveal these intimate secrets to her nobles?' Charion asked innocently.

'What?' He was momentarily confused by the question. 'No, of course not. I meant…' He shut his mouth. He was not sure what he meant. He was filled with sadness for Areava's sake, and for poor lost Sendarus.

Charion read something of his feelings in his expression and patted his hand. 'Orkid says she is recovering, but that her brother Olio has been injured in some way. Apparently there was a great fire in the city the same day our army met Lynan's. That is why we have not heard from Areava.'

'A black day for the whole Kingdom,' Galen said in a low voice.

They reached Charion's throne room, and she ordered her servants away. When they were alone she said: 'Orkid made no mention of you or your knights. I do not know what Areava intends for you. Under the circumstances, you might feel it best to go on to Kendra.'

For the second time Charion was offering him a way out of his royal predicament. He knew that as one of the Kingdom's leading nobles he could help Areava back in Kendra, but he was a member of the Twenty Houses and she did not trust him, and she had others to rely on for advice and assistance. On the other hand, he could make a decisive difference here if Lynan attacked into southern Hume. He glanced at Charion, who was doing her best to seem unconcerned.

'Her Majesty will send for me if she needs me,' he said.

Charion smiled mysteriously. 'Which Majesty?' she asked.

Galen coughed politely in his hand. 'The one furthest from me,' he replied, and saw her eyes widen slightly.

'You must be tired after your expedition,' she said quickly. 'And dusty.'

Galen looked down at his clothes, then behind him. He had left dirty footprints all the way into the throne room. 'I have been looking forward to a bath,' he admitted.

'Then you shall have one.' I will give you and your lieutenants rooms in the palace. We can talk again after you have rested.'

'Your Majesty is most generous,' he said, bowing to her for the second time, and started to withdraw.

'You will have rested by tonight,' she added lightly.

'Fully,' he replied, and matched her smile.

CHAPTER 6

The harbour was burning. Thick plumes of greasy smoke pillowed into the air. Ships blazed at their moorings, their masts crumbled and collapsed, their sheets sparkled, torn remnants of their sails whipped like beacons in the wind before going out. Charcoaled bodies bobbed with the currents under the docks, washed up on Kolby's Beach with barrels and other flotsam, smelled like rotten crackling. Seabirds wheeled overhead before diving on carcasses to feast as they never had before. In the middle of the harbour a single warship, flames shooting along its whole length, started to roll, slowly at first, but as the water sluiced over its side and then into its hold it quickly keeled over, its bow pointing slightly in the air. For a moment it looked as if it might hold, but then it slid beneath the water, stern first, and disappeared. An explosion of bubbles broke the surface and then nothing was left of its passing, not even a corpse.

Lynan could not look away from the destruction around him. In a terrible way it was beautiful. The harbour glowed with colour, the clouds of smoke above seemed to shine with it, the air itself shimmered. He could smell burning wood and tar and canvas, and underneath all that the sweet smell of burning bodies.

The sound of it was a giant's sigh, like something great coming to rest.

A Red Hand galloped up to Lynan and bowed. 'Your Majesty, Queen Korigan reports that the city is secure. The fighting in the palace has been quelled. There is no other resistance.'

Lynan nodded, relieved. The massacre at Fort Typerta had changed Salokan's attitude and he had cooperated ever since, ordering the surrender of every town and hamlet in his Kingdom. Only here at the capital, where there were other noble families, had the first real resistance been met. As it turned out there were two main rivals to Salokan, each led by a cousin; one took the palace and the other the fortified harbour, each hoping their stand would rally resistance against Lynan and at the same time rally support for their claim to the throne. Neither occurred. Indeed, the remnants of the Haxus army had followed Salokan who was still king, after all, and been used to root out the rebels in both locations. When some noble refugees had tried to escape by ship, Lynan ordered fire arrows to destroy it and every other vessel at dock. The ensuing firestorm had turned the harbour into a pyre for the Kingdom of Haxus.

Ager came beside him. 'There is nothing more to be done here. We can leave a detachment to make sure no one else tries escaping by water.'

'All the ships are gone,' Lynan said distantly, still staring at the flames. He felt something inside him recoil at the sight of fire, but he forced himself to watch.

'More ships can come,' Ager pointed out.

Lynan nodded. 'You take care of it. I will go to the palace.'

'Your Majesty.'' someone shouted near the water's edge. Lynan saw one of the Haxus soldiers who had helped destroy the harbour's fortifications holding a dripping, bedraggled looking man by the collar of a torn and scorched jerkin. The man's skin was cut and scalded.

'Who is he?' Lynan asked.

'I recognise him,' said another Haxus soldier. 'He is the son of Count Vasiliy.'

'The nobleman who held the harbour against us?' Lynan asked.

'The same.'

The prisoner lifted his face and looked around, obviously dazed. Lynan regarded him for a moment, then said to the soldier holding him: 'Kill him.' The soldier nodded, drew a short sword and stabbed the son of Count Vasiliy through the back. The nobleman gasped once and slumped to the ground.

Lynan turned his horse and left.

Jenrosa watched him leave. For a long while she had observed him as the harbour was destroyed, saw the flames reflected in his white hard skin, saw the way his expression did not change the whole time his army wreaked ruin at his command. In the background her mind had heard the screams of the dying and wounded, heard the crash of buildings as they collapsed under the fire, smelled the fear and despair rise into the air with the smoke. And Lynan had hardly blinked.

When he was gone she could not help slumping in the saddle, as if her watching of Lynan had been a casting of some kind and had exhausted her. Lasthear put a hand on her arm. 'Are you alright?'

Jenrosa did not answer. Something in the corner of her eye caught her attention, and she turned to find it. At first she did not recognise what it was, and then her gaze settled on the harbour waters, gold and glistening. She dismounted and went to the water's edge.

'Jenrosa?' Lasthear asked.

'It's nothing,' Jenrosa said. She blinked. No,
there is something, but what
? A memory stirred deep in her mind. She bent over and swirled a hand in the water, sending ripples out in a circle, each ripple carrying its own reflection of the burning harbour. Again something moved a deep memory and she searched for it. She moved deeper into the water until it reached her waist.

'Jenrosa!' Lasthear cried out, her voice worried.

Jenrosa glanced over her shoulder, was surprised at Lasthear's expression. 'There's nothing wrong.'

'But you are so deep,' Lasthear said.

Jenrosa could not help smiling. 'This is not…' she started to say, then remembered she was talking to a Chett, someone who lived in the middle of the continent where the shallow lake at the High Sooq was the deepest water she ever saw. 'I'm alright,' she said. 'I was brought up near the sea. I am in no danger.'

Lasthear seemed uncertain, but said no more.

Jenrosa waited until the disturbance caused by her moving had calmed and then stared into the water again, letting her eyes lose their focus, clearing her mind for the memory that was proving so elusive. Tentatively she used her hand to cause a new cycle of ripples. Again each ripple carried a reflection of the burning harbour. Even as she watched the wash run out from her like mirrored rings, she saw in her mind's eye the incantation she wanted. She whispered the words. Nothing happened. She whispered the words again, and this time saw the last ripple reflected a harbour that was not burning at all; she caught a glimpse of a perfectly blue sky, of high-prowed Haxus ships, of wooden cranes and bustling docks.

She gasped in surprise and involuntarily took a step back towards the land.

'Jenrosa!' Lasthear cried again.

'Be quiet!' she ordered sharply. She tried calming down her own heart which seemed ready to burst from her, but even as she did her mind was racing. Where had the incantation come from? It had not been a memory after all: she had never learned those words, either from Lasthear or from her training with the theurgia. She had called up something much deeper within her than mere memory.

She took a long breath and repeated the words as she set off more ripples, and this time each wave carried a different reflection. The words faded from her lips as she watched a hundred different scenes recede from her.

'The past is the same,' she said, 'but the present has no boundary.'

She heard splashing behind her. The water around her became confused and choppy. She turned, her anger changing to surprise when she saw Lasthear standing right behind her, oblivious to the water lapping around her waist. 'What did you say?' Lasthear demanded fiercely.

'What?'

'Just then, when you were watching the water. What did you say?'

Jenrosa blinked. 'I'm not sure. I don't think—'

Lasthear grabbed Jenrosa's arms. 'The past is the same,' she said, almost shouting the words.

And Jenrosa said automatically, 'But the present has no boundary.'

Lasthear's face blushed. 'Who told you those words?'

'I… I don't know.'

'What incantation were you using?'

'I don't know. It came from somewhere inside my head. I've never heard it before.'

Lasthear let her go. 'I'm sorry if I startled you.'

Jenrosa suddenly became conscious that she and Lasthear were the centre of some attention. Chetts were looking on as if they had been witness to some important occasion; Haxus soldiers just stared at them strangely. At that moment she heard Lasthear breathe in sharply.

'What's wrong?' Jenrosa asked.

'I have never been in this much water before,' she said.

Jenrosa took her arm and guided her back to the shore. Lasthear thanked her and quickly mounted her horse to put as much distance as possible between her and the water. When Jenrosa mounted, the others took it as a signal to go back to whatever it was they were doing before she entered the harbour. A short while later she and Lasthear were alone. For a while neither spoke; eventually Lasthear let out a gust of air, as if she had been holding her breath ever since being up to her waist in water.

'I knew there was something special about you since the first time we did magik together, but I had no idea…' Her voice trailed off.

'You're not going to go on about the Truespeaker again, are you? Because if you are—'

Lasthear shook her head. 'No.'

Jenrosa shut her mouth.

Lasthear looked at her with uncertainty, as if Jenrosa was no longer the person she thought she was. 'We have a story about a great magiker—'

'Oh no,' Jenrosa interrupted quickly, holding up her hands. She could feel in her bones this was going to be about her in some way. 'I'm not going to listen to this.'

'He died over a thousand years ago,' Lasthear went on.

'Oh,' Jenrosa said, suddenly feeling foolish.

'In his time there were no Chetts, or Kendrans or Amanites or Haxans. There was only one people, and they were new to Theare. This great magiker was a man who was so honoured by his people that they made him their ruler. For a long time the people prospered under his rule, but as he got older he started having visions, terrible visions. At first he told no one about them, but instead wrote them down in great books. One day an acolyte read one of the books and went mad. When the magiker king found the body of the acolyte he knew immediately what had happened, and he realised his own madness was so great that one day it could destroy everything he had helped build. He called to him the greatest among his people and told them what was happening, and what he intended to do about it. He created four great talismans and put into them the four aspects of his power: his generosity, his wisdom, his strength and his hope.'