The Farthest Gate (The White Rose Book 1) (15 page)

My heart leaped in my chest as I saw the darkness was not absolute.  A single star yet burned, a tiny weak glimmer of hope—reason enough to embrace a universe of pain once more.  I lifted my face.  “Wait.”  My voice issued soft and fragile as a butterfly, but thankfully, he heard me.

He hesitated, look
ing over his shoulder.  “Well, what is it?  Just because I have all day does not mean I want to spend it here.”

“I can get you…”  My voice broke from disuse
.  I swallowed, lifting my head slowly against the weight of life.  “…Get you past the farthest gate…into the Courts of Death.”

Amberyn spun and
pounced, catching himself on the arms of my chair.  His face, inches from mine, searched my eyes for truth.  Whatever he saw made him shudder, but he spoke gently.  “Then by all means, do so.”

I wagged my head no.  “Not yet. 
I have a price.”

His hand went to a beautifully ornamented dagger in his belt.  “You
are playing with me, White Rose?”

Again I shook my head.  “A favor for a favor
… all I ask.”

The elf’s hand left his knife.  He smiled, but no warmth reached his eyes.  “Well, I suppose that is only fair.  Exactly what boon do you
require?” 

My voice was too dry for
continued conversation.  The sound of the fountain came as a torture for I craved water.  I looked that way.  “First, a drink…”

He pulled back with a show of great indignation.  “I am no servant.  Get it yourself.”

I nodded.  Fine, he wanted to see if I would make an effort to live—stiff and weak, I pried myself to my feet.  I trembled through a step and nearly made a second before I collapsed.

I lay there.

He stared down at me, as if at some fascinating bug never seen before.

Determined,
I reached forward, and gripped the edge of a flagstone.  I dragged myself toward the fountain a few inches at a time.  Halfway there, I had to stop.  I gasped for breath, tears of frustration in my eyes as I sobbed quietly.

“You’ve made your point,
Lass.” 

Amberyn gathered me in his arms and lifted me with a casual strength that could well have been drawn from the earth beneath his feet.  He carried me easily to the fountain’s rim and sat there with my body cradled against him like an infant’s.

“I begin to see what Silver Wolf found in you of such value.  Here…”

He dipped his cupped hand in the water and brought a trickle to my lips that moistened my mouth and soothed my raw throat.  I drank avidly, committed to life once more—as long as it came with one last chance to make things right.

After the third handful, I stopped him, “Enough.”  The sound of my voice was much improved.

He nonchalantly brushed dirt off my dress and began picking small leaves from my disarrayed hair.  I let him attend to me, saving my strength for persuasion.

“So, what is this price of yours?” he asked.

“Take my son to Avalon until I can recover his soul.”

“His soul is gone, but his flesh still lives?”

“Yes, though he is failing.  If the reavers take him before I can succeed, all will be lost.  But if you take him—”

“To Avalon, where Death can never come, then you will have all the time you need for your quest as well.”  His gaze went through me as he evaluated my proposal.  “Is that all you want?” he asked.

“Not quite,” I nodded as I stared longingly at the water.  My voice had
weakened and my throat had dried, making me cough.

The elf gave me another drink, smiling with amusement that he had become my servant after all.

“We have the same enemy,” I said.  “We should help each other.” 

“I will take your son to Avalon
, White Rose.  Any opportunity to frustrate Death appeals to me.  But tell me how will you breach The Courts for me when you have not been able to do so for yourself?”

I smiled tightly.  “
I have recently learned through my grandmother’s journal that she consorted with Death, returning to Earth to bear his child, my mother.  I have also learned that the Gamesman, in mortal disguise, sired my own son.”  I felt my face burning with indignation and shame.  “We became lovers before I knew him for what he was.”

“Regrettable,” Amberyn said, “but I doubt God will hold it against you.  If he does, I will put in a good word for you.”

His arrogance amused me when nothing else could—I smiled.  “I would be grateful.  In any case, both my son and I are Death’s grandchildren.  Do you think he will refuse me his presence when he learns of my parentage?”

“So, you have reason to expect he will bring you through the wards.  Again, how does that help
me
?”

“Once through, I can call for you, if you trust me with your true name, as Silver Wolf has done.  If I invoke your presence from inside the Courts, the wards cannot keep you out.”

Amberyn remained silent while in deepest thought.  At last he responded.  “You ask me to trust you with something very precious.  My name can give you power over me.”

“I will give you my true name in return.  I will have no more power than I give to you.”

“I want more from you than that, but let us take care of your son first, and then work out the details of our pact.”

I nodded, anxious over unnamed terms, knowing I would accede to whatever Phillippe needed.

Amberyn carefully lifted me as he stood.  “Where will I find your child?”

“My child is a grown man
to other eyes.”  I pointed toward the house.  “You will find him through there.”

He carried me toward the house without strain, toward the last glimmer of hope
I had for recovering my son.  I vowed to make this attempt count.  I had learned much from past mistakes.  This was no longer a game to be played at the whim of the Gamesman, but a campaign to be ruthlessly waged, with care, strategy, and every ally I could win to my cause.  It was time to wage war against Death himself.

Amberyn entered my son’s room, and set me on the bed beside him.  The elf stared into Phillippe’s vacant eyes. 
“You are correct—he lives though his soul has taken flight.  However, I am not going to carry both of you.  He will have to walk.”

“Impossible!” I objected.  “There is no mind within him to direct his body.”

Amberyn shrugged as if it were a minor inconvenience.  “Then magic will have to suffice.”

He spoke phrases that wrapped around us, words older than human civilization, words that curled and leapt like flames.  He gestured toward my son as he finished the incantation. 

My heart skipped a beat as Phillippe rose.  He stared at nothing, but moving as if his soul were back.
The illusion pierced me with disquiet, but I said nothing.  I had asked for this. 

Amberyn dressed my son warmly against the cold.  The elf wrapped a blanket around me, gathered me up, and called sharply to my son, “Follow me!”

We moved toward the front door and I impressed upon my mind all the subtle touches that made this house our home.  It might be a long time until my son and I returned.  I thought of saying farewell to my father, but I was not sure he would let us go without argument, and such drama might undo Amberyn’s patience, and end the tentative agreement I had with him.

I decided to send word to my father when I could, and save my strength for what I had to do next.

Outside the front door, Amberyn stopped to laugh.  His unicorn mount had drawn many a curious villager.  Troubled parents trampled the snow, busy keeping gleeful children away from the fabulous stallion.  A priest in a heavy cloak prayed fervently and flicked holy water about with excited fingers.  The unicorn bore it all with patient indifference, pawing at the slush, vainly seeking grass.  His white coat glowed despite the half-hearted winter light.  His breath was mist.

Seeing me in the act of being “spirited away by evil”, Father Francis mauled his prayer beads
as he marched over, determined to save me.  He thrust a bony finger in the elf’s face.  “Heathen creature—put that good woman down!  Inflict your Godless lusts upon your own kind!”

Amberyn smiled.  “I must thank you for a most excellent suggestion, but my wife would
kill me in a trice were I so bold as to cast myself so freely about.”  He frowned slightly, displaying mild annoyance.  “Now stand aside.  We have pressing business elsewhere.”

“It is no matter of concern,” I assured Father Francis. 
The priest looked unconvinced.

My son skirted the crowd without gathering a single glance.  I wondered if Amberyn were employing a mystic glamour of some kind.  I spoke to give my son time to get clear.  Besides, I did not want words to escalate into violence.  “I assure you, I am in no danger.  The elf lord has pledged his support in my war upon Death.  You would do me a great kindness to tell my father you saw me
recovered and well.  And tell him, I shall return when I can bring his grandson whole once more.”

“Nay, good daughter,” Father Thomas protested.  “Go not with this pagan creature of darkness.  It cannot be trusted.  And meddle not in affairs far above your station.  It is our duty to accept the hand of God, even when He lovingly crushes us.”

“My God crushes no one,” I replied heatedly.  How dare he say such an absurd thing?

Amberyn feigned an exaggerated expression of perplexity.  “Why, I am beginning to think I am not welcome here.  If you continue with this mewling tirade,
I shall certainly be insulted.”

“I will take that chance, heathen animal.”  The priest snorted.

The unicorn tossed his head, copying the sound with greater effect. The elf shouted a long word in Elven.

The unicorn dug hooves in and plunged closer, making the priest sprawl aside.  The beast
never slowed as I felt myself wrenched skyward, a leaf on a gust of wind.  Then the elf was in the saddle, still cradling me against him.  The villagers parted hastily, and once away from them, we caught up to my son.  He was mindlessly plodding along with no idea of where he was going.  The unicorn slowed to match pace with Phillippe. 

“Why not hide your animal with glamour to begin with,” I asked Amberyn.  “It would have spared us the priest’s displeasure.”

“Ha!  I can see you know little of unicorns.  Such beasts are the very essence of magic.  They cannot be enspelled, even by me.”

“But then, could he not carry you through Death’s wards?”

“No, Lass.  Death is too strong with the souls of the dead to fuel his power.  Once you get me past the barrier, even then, my only hope lies in the element of surprise and in blinding speed.”

Blinding speed…  No wonder the elf moved so often in furious haste
.  He ever trained for the task he had set himself.

We traveled onward most of the day, until suddenly,
my son turned sharply to leave the roadway.  He plodded along a path leading into the barren woodland.  We followed, and soon reached a small lea that was as unnatural as my mother’s rose garden.  Here, it was spring.  Bluebells clustered on a grass-covered mound of earth.  Phillippe took up a post beside the mound, and waited for further bidding from the elf.  Gnarled oaks ringed the clearing like monstrous, deformed sentries.  The air vibrated with expectation.

“
Have we reached one of the gates to Avalon?” I asked.

“Yes,” Amberyn answered.  “I have only to sing it open.”  He lowered
me from the unicorn to the ground.  I leaned against the animal, as Amberyn dismounted.  He stroked the mount’s snowy mane and spoke soft words of praise to him.  I gained the impression that these two had kept company through many a campaign. 

“If you intend to ride with me to battle,” the elf came around the unicorn’s head, “we will need to find you a creature as swift as my own.  And you will need armor, weapons.  We can outfit you in the nearest village once we cross over.”

I would have been more comfortable in a side-saddle or in the clothes of a man.  I wished I had my grandmother’s leather attire.  Why had I not grabbed it when I had the chance?  And my sword, it still lay by the fountain.  I shook my head, disgusted with myself.  Had my mind not yet recovered?  Would it ever?

My companion untied his
saddlebag, and drew forth a small harp of rosewood with silver strings.  He passed me on the way to the mound.  I saw the instrument closely.  It took my breath away; lovely, delicate, and strangely at home in the elf prince’s hands.  The intricate carvings and decoration caught the sunlight and wove it into song, building up a haze of gold above the mound.  Strums augmented arpeggios.  Then a
simple melody trickled in, complex in its simplicity.

I wondered if he were truly as good as I thought, or if he used
glamour to enhanced my appreciation.  The sound beckoned my son to the top of the mound.  The unicorn under me moved as well, as though sensing the way to home suddenly open.  My son turned, took a step, and disappeared into the shimmering air.  I gaped foolishly though I had expected this very thing.

Amberyn had a gently mocking smile on his face as he sang the lyrics of an
Elven song.  I passed him on the unicorn.  My hands gripped the saddle painfully, as I braced for a passage such as I had never experienced.  I closed my eyes, as mystic vibrations
teased my nerves.  The transition brought a sensual pleasure, as if unseen hands were lightly stroking my body everywhere at once.  I cut off a small moan of enjoyment, feeling a blush creep over my face.