Stormed Fortress (19 page)

For Elaira, the seclusion permitted the chance for another tranced scrying. Sidir did not rouse when she retired to the mossy bank of the stream. Afraid for Jeynsa, and anxiously fretting the hazards of the open road, the enchantress engaged her disciplined skill to open her inner awareness. Her mind settled, then stilled. The reactive nature of water enveloped her. She let herself flow with the grace of the element, poised between thought and intent.

The moment did not unfold without incident: wild as wind, subtle as the scent of a flower, a welcome arose and embraced her. Touched by a tenderness beyond all words, she immersed in sweet silence until her breath caught with ecstatic delight. At long last! The enchantress encountered the presence that answered her aching heart.

'
Elaira, beloved,
'
Prince Arithon sent.

A flood of sensation enlivened his words: of fire-light, and camaraderie, and air that smelled of goose grease, tanned leather, and tallow smoke. He sat in the comfort of a clan lodge tent, where the warm, southern wind wafted the tang of pine resin. Struck through by a sweet bolt of joy in reunion, Elaira soaked in the details: the Teir s
'
Ffalenn was at large within the free wilds of Alland. His guarded chagrin meant he would be a guest of the hard-bitten High Earl, Lord Erlien sTaleyn. That powerful, combatively capricious man served as
caithdein
to the Kingdom of Shand . . .

* * *

The roisterous gathering called in for his counsel included two Selkwood chieftains, a clan grandame whose talent was healing, and an aggressive company of scouts. The captain of Selkwood
'
s war band presided, a slit-eyed panther hunched over a trestle, buried layers deep in maps. The discussion at hand was raid tactics, and the nascent fire riding the air meant divisive contention.

The High Earl watched the sparring like a satisfied bear, chaos being his element. His avid glance gleamed, eager to see how his visiting royalty would field the heckling debate.

Arithon perched to one side on a hassock, deceptively calm, while the argument flurried about him. He had changed his borrowed leathers for the grey robe and sash given by Sanpashir
'
s tribesman. His hands were laced over his drawn-up knees, the nonchalant pose in striking contrast to the edgy young liegeman who stood at his back. Kyrialt carried both targe and sword, tense enough to pounce on all comers.

'
It
'
s the mouse fallen into a den of stirred adders,
'
Arithon agreed, sharing Elaira
'
s dismayed assessment.
'
Already, fangs have been sunk deep in fur. They
'
re only stumped now out of contrary irony and an embarrassing conflict of honour
'

The enchantress grinned, secure as observer, couched in her distant glen.
'
They
'
ve forgotten the range of your initiate talents? Don
'
t say they believe the stacked odds set by numbers makes their brash challenge unsporting?
'

'
Well, Erlien
'
s not fooled.
'
That statement came through with flint-edged delight as Selkwood
'
s bearded war-captain banged a cantankerous fist on the planks, then assailed his lord nose to nose across the crimped maps.

'
Dharkaron
'
s black bollocks, we
'
re not equipped! The southcoast is swarming with Sunwheel galleys. Give their hazed troops any reason to land, we
'
ll see Alland
'
s trees put to the torch with intent to smoke out our families like vermin.
'

Still seated, the High Earl bit back.
'
Then you might want to save your bristles and fight for trouncing Light-rabid fanatics!
'

'
They
'
ll attack our north flank out of Atchaz, as well!
'
the hatchet-faced veteran snarled, embittered.
'
We
'
ll be overrun. Struck down in cold blood, and for what? By the point on Dharkaron Avenger
'
s Black Spear! What brazen hope can be salvaged? If we
'
re lucky, our seasoned ranks will be pressed to defend us at hundreds to one!
'

Erlien rose to his towering height. His icy blue eyes raked the company.
'
Yes. And we
'
re scrapping to see how much of our war band should rush to the slaughter at first engagement?
'

'
Best to die free, if the compact
'
s to fall,
'
a grizzled chieftain yelled from the side-lines.
'
Pack up our children. March them north with all speed. Those who are fit to survive the journey must plead for the Fellowship
'
s refuge with the spellbinder on guardwatch at Methisle.
'

Shand
'
s
caithdein
smiled, now primed to provoke.
'
But the Prince of Rathain insists there
'
s a recourse. He
'
s given us his promise to lend help for the numbers we can keep living.
'

The eldest veteran shoved through the press, a rumpled cock in a brigan-dine stitched out of boiled leather and elk bone.
'
Royal or not, he brings us a flawed trust!
'

A second dissenter expounded,
'
I, too, bore witness the last time his Grace visited Alland from Merior. We heard him describe the geas that binds him.

The curse of Desh-thiere is not revoked! His Grace
'
s own word once warned us to beware! The Mistwraith
'
s foul working undermines his intent. It can sap his free will, even claim him. If he fights at our side, he might turn, or go mad. We can
'
t sanction that danger. Only a fool would rely on his sword-arm among us!
'

Linked into rapport, Elaira stopped breathing. Restraint veiled her distress: for that harsh accusation held only truth. The Mistwraith
'
s curse might well awaken. If its raw drive subsumed Arithon
'
s nature, his allies would be caught without recourse. The anguish of that incontrovertible flaw had almost shattered his spirit during his challenging passage through Kewar. Now braced to absorb his shamed recoil, Elaira extended her tactful support.

Yet Arithon did not flinch, even as Erlien
'
s shark smile widened.
'
By Ath, are we gone to the dogs like the town-born? Here, if I recall, we allow the condemned man to speak in defence before judgement!
'

No comment, from Arithon. He failed to bridle. More startling still, his green eyes stayed wide-lashed. Elaira, who touched his bared heart, sensed his flicker of masked amusement.

If the High Earl suspected, he rose to the match, suave as honey spread over poison.
'
You may test his royal mettle. Push hard as you wish. The stakes are not small: his Grace has granted my son a crown prince
'
s oath and embraced him for Rathain as liegeman.
'
A gesture towards Kyrialt forced affirmation. The young man looked peaked. He knew his father
'
s badgering ways: every circling feint would be closed without mercy upon the misfortunate victim.

'
If that signal honour does not bear enough weight,
'
the High Earl ran on with relish,
'
Rathain
'
s prince has shared guest oath under my roof. Most who stand here saw him drain the cup that pledged amity! If, after all, his Grace dares to lie, as
caithdein,
under the law of this realm, I will be required to break him.
'

The war-captain ruffled up like a falcon just hooded and leashed to the block. The chieftain beside him pursed sour lips, while a scout towards the rear hawked behind his closed fist, ready to spit at the feet of the effete royal among them.

The scarred tracker who tended the torch was first to try Erlien
'
s challenge.
'
We
'
ve got to sit through a nattering parley? Then have done! Let his Grace state his case on his merits.
'

Least restrained of them all, the healer-trained grandame grumbled a withering phrase in old dialect.
'
Who trusts a man who won
'
t carry a weapon?
'

A scout catcalled.
'
Daelion Fatemaster
'
s mark on my name! Should we follow a sniveller? There
'
s no butty born with two bollocks who shrinks at blooding cold steel on his enemies.
'

Lord Erlien turned, his hawk
'
s profile tinged ruddy by flame-light.
'
You do have a strategy,
'
he invited the prince, seated still, his laced fingers artful as sculpture.
'
We
'
d like to hear out your plan of attack. You
'
ve already said you refuse to spin Darkness. Won
'
t sow fear through our enemy
'
s ranks by means of initiate talent. If the man is too proud, and the master too scrupulous, just how
do
you intend to participate?
'

Arithon stirred, set his feet on the ground, his unruffled humour intact.
'
I came to defend. Nor can I be badgered to raise Shadow, or cause injury for the least of your fatal offensives.
'

'
Cringing daisy, I said so!
'
the war-captain barked.
'
Speak fast, ere we slice you to mincemeat!
'
His callused fists fended off the two chieftains who surged to draw knives for the insult.

Savagely pleased by their bursting aggression. Lord Erlien towered over the diminutive prince on the hassock.
'
Don
'
t claim you
'
ll spare Selkwood with naught but that jewelled bauble of a lyranthe?
'

'
Well, yes,
'
said Arithon, unperturbed.
'
She
'
s no pretty toy, but a master-bard
'
s instrument.
'
Against the explosive muscle and shouts, he gave no ground, except to arise empty-handed before them.
'
You can listen! Bear witness yourselves. See if my act of protection is binding. Or you can fight and send your strongest to die! Don
'
t ask me, then, to applaud for the pride of walking blind in your forefathers
'
footsteps.
'

While the uproar redoubled, and more roughnecks ploughed forward, Kyrialt
'
s grip locked on his sword-hilt. Yet Lord Erlien
'
s voice arrested the rush to thrash Rathain
'
s prince for rank insolence.
'
You
'
d lay a singer
'
s warding on Selkwood?
'
His surprise swept the gathering, while the crowding insurgents exclaimed with stung disbelief.

'
I
'
m proposing to try,
'
Rathain
'
s crown prince appealed, then smiled with a grace to wrench heart-strings.
'
My theory can be tested tonight. If I fail, then I promise you
'
ll still have the time to fall back on armed force.
'

'
A stripling talent can shoulder this feat?
'
The war-captain
'
s doubtful glance darted between his High Earl and the prince, whose fine build was eclipsed by Kyrialt
'
s strapping prowess.

That able young liegeman refused to speak: not for a trained sorcerer whose unfathomable wiles blindsided his sire
'
s ferocity. Shocked quiet, but not mollified, the High Earl of Alland had to accept that brash dare at face value. His order reddened the ears of the sceptical tracker, and sent the man scurrying to fetch the heirloom lyranthe . . .