The Lords of Anavar (16 page)

"Ah, I thought as much. Then perhaps you should do it."

"What?"

She laughed again. His face contorted in confusion and she laughed until tears seeped from her lashes.

"I told you I am not what you expect. My Mother's plans do not always please me and whether she knows it or not, I rule Wierland. If she must die to protect Wierland, so be it. Are you scandalized by my behavior?"

Kisle Ber watched her face, her bright green eyes, her hair shining red in the sunlight and he smelled the fragrance of the garden. He realized his choice could only be with the Princess. Already her grasp tightened on him.

"I refuse to comment on your behavior; however I give you my oath to serve you, Princess Alicae, daughter of Beatrice on the condition that you name your father."

Her hand cracked against his face so swiftly, he, a trained fighter, did not see it coming. It stung like a blow from a large man. Her eyes flashed, her jaw tightened, and her voice hissed.

"Do not question my parentage. I promise to protect those pledged to me, but Kisle Ber, the question of my father is never spoken of again. Do you understand?"

"One question first. Is he alive?"

"He is not dead. Leave it at that. Come with me. I must speak to Mother."

He shook his head and followed the Princess. Once he tried to take a different turning in the palace and felt a tug upon him. Puzzled, he looked to the Princess who smiled. A hard knot formed in his stomach. Should he be magically bound to Princess Alicae, then he took the short end of the bargain. In retrospect, it was not a bargain at all.

The Queen sat surrounded by nobles and attendants, speaking rapidly. Kisle Ber recognized Alanic Froania, Warlord of Wierland. Froania turned to the newcomers and upon seeing Kisle Ber smiled crookedly.

"Well Kisle, what a surprise. Are you here to aid Wierland? I have not checked the coffers so I do not know what we can pay you."

"He is in my service," said Princess Alicae. "I did not give you leave to speak to him."

Alanic Froania laughed. "What leave do I need?"

Suddenly, the room howled with wind. The gusts battered the Warlord to the floor. He gasped for breath as he tried to pull himself to his feet. Another gust drove him against the wall.

"Daughter! Enough!"

Immediately the air calmed. Froania glared up at the smiling Princess.

"I underestimated you, Princess. I shall not do it again."

"Place your anger elsewhere, Alanic," said Queen Beatrice. "The Princess has skills you could not begin to comprehend. Leave us all of you. I wish to speak to my daughter alone." The room cleared rapidly, leaving mother and daughter and fighting man.

"I seem to be unable to depart," said Kisle Ber, who tried to follow the nobles out the door.

"I see," said Queen Beatrice. She glared at her daughter. "I told you this could wait for a year or two yet."

"It can't wait. Gerrand has set everything in motion."

"You think this concerns you? I had hoped to hide you for a while yet."

"I realize your concern Mother, but the choice is out of our hands. Macelan has returned to the land. What else can I do?"

"How would you counsel my daughter, Kisle Ber?" asked the Queen.

"I would not know where to start," replied Kisle Ber. "My understanding of the situation is shaky for I fear I lack enough facts to judge it."

"It is true that you lack facts. Alicae keeps much to herself, but she is only half my daughter. She follows her father in much of her behavior."

"I already told Kisle Ber he is not to ask about my father."

"Did you? Well, he must know soon enough. Kisle Ber, I know you and believe your sword even shed blood for Wierland on occasion. Why did you come this time?"

"High Lord Gharom hired me to kill you."

Queen Beatrice looked at the man, her shoulders bowed and weary. Her forty plus years weighing like sixty as the events of the world spin out of control. She looked to her daughter and nodded, then sighed.

"It appears my daughter is correct in this. Alicae, I advise you to gain the aid of the Mages who came here today. Hear their words firsthand and decide how they affect what you need to accomplish. Tell me what you decide before you leave me."

"Do you think I would run from you without a word?"

"Your father did." She waved her arm, dismissing them.

Kisle Ber stepped back as the Princess bolted past him. The tears rimming her eyes made her appear her age.

"That was dangerous, your Highness," said Kisle Ber.

"I do know it, sir. I gambled and lost. Now I have to see this through."

"I don't understand."

"I know. Pray you never understand it as fully as me. Go, Kisle Ber. Protect my daughter as best you can. How you can protect her from herself, I do not know. Godspeed, Kisle Ber. We may not meet again."

He followed the Princess to his room where she waited outside while he packed his gear. She was gone where he left the room, but Zae Pol's door hung ajar. He heard the voice of the Princess and knocked on the door as he pushed it open.

"This is Kisle Ber," said Princess Alicae. "He is my sword bearer."

"I am Zae Pol and this is Lars Vokas. We are Mages."

"I know who you are," said Kisle Ber. "My best friend is Deah Vole, brother of Techna Vole. I heard much about the Mage Council and their activities, which included a description of each member. However Zae Pol, you are far prettier than I imagined."

"I see. Princess Alicae has told us what she knows and asks us to share our information and join her. That is contrary to our instructions from Gerrand. We are to contact every head of state and tell them what we told Queen Beatrice."

The air shimmered with heat. The Mages shielded themselves.

"It's the Princess," said Kisle Ber.

"They must help us!" cried Princess Alicae. She stamped her foot, waving her fists in the air.

"You act as a child now, Princess," said the mercenary. Abruptly the air returned to normal.

"Do not call me a child, Kisle Ber." Her calm voice exited through thin pressed lips.

"What power is this?" asked Zae Pol. "Little knowledge of you we have, but no knowledge of such power. Your mother has no such power. Where did you come by it? Tell me about it."

"No. That topic shall not be discussed. Do not try to change the subject. You must come with us. Kisle Ber, I will tell my mother we are leaving immediately with the Mages. Be sure they are prepared when I return." She turned and stomped toward the throne room.

"Well, that is a terror, no mistake," said Lars Vokas. "What is she?"

"I have a suspicion that I will keep to myself," said Zae Pol. "Gerrand sent us here to meet her. I do not doubt it. He said I could go in any order to the lands, but to go to Queen Beatrice first."

"He said that?" asked Lars Vokas.

"Yes. His reasons become clearer as time passes, although I wish he would share more information sooner. I hate guessing games. He said not to miss the gardens. I still don't know why."

"I do," said Kisle Ber. "The gardens are the Princess's domain. She seems to draw her strength from there."

"That crafty Gerrand. What else did he not tell us?"

"Time for that later," said Kisle Ber. "You best prepare to travel quickly. She will return soon. I am bonded to her in some way and can feel her presence. It's very strange. At least I shall have your company, Zae Pol, to lighten my cares." Lars Vokas shook his head at the young man's remark.

"Drop dead."

"Too late for that. I must have the Princess's permission first. I am under a spell to be her sword bearer and companion, remember?"

"I will discuss it with her."

"Pray she doesn't bond you the same way."

Zae Pol's eyes widened and she nodded her head. She gathered her clothing together in a bundle silently.

Kisle Ber waited in the corridor as the Mages readied themselves. All three stood in silence until the Princess returned. Her eyes were red and moist, but she did not speak of her mother.

"Let us depart this place."

"Where are we to go?" asked Kisle Ber.

"Do not ask questions, sword bearer. I command you."

Kisle Ber started as if he was struck and indeed, his face reddened on one cheek, marked from a slap. He looked at the Mages, stunned. Zae Pol shrugged her shoulders. She did not know of such power.

"Zae Pol, walk with me. Lars Vokas will walk with my sword bearer."

"Why are you being so harsh with him?"

"I do not answer to you," said Princess Alicae.

"Nor I to you," said Zae Pol, softly. "What is the problem?"

"Not right now," said the Princess, after a moment. "I will speak later, when we are far from Finald."

When they walked through the gates of Finald and turned toward the west, dark clouds rose in the distance and thunder rocked the earth.

Their path drew them far to the south to avoid the Curesia army on its journey to Finald. They heard reports from riders that the army had crossed into Wierland two days earlier and would reach Finald on the next evening. Kisle Ber watched the horizon and thought he saw the rising columns of dust of Warlord Lemmin Menn's army.

Princess Alicae's mood did not lighten during the first day of their journey and she walked several yards ahead of them, scuffing her feet in the dirt.

"She needs a counselor for her power," whispered Lars Vokas. "She has no self-control. I understand she is sixteen or so, but someone could have taught her discipline."

"It is peculiar that Alec Endria did not mention her. He is fiercely loyal to Queen Beatrice; you would think he would brag about the Princess."

"Unless he's her father," said Kisle Ber.

"That's not funny," said Lars Vokas.

"I wasn't trying to be funny. It makes sense to me."

They continued in silence, watching the slight shape of the Princess ahead of them.

"I think so too," said Zae Pol. "However, we mustn't speak of it any more. You saw how defensive she gets about the subject."

"I know," said Kisle Ber. "All that power to be wielded by a whim of an immature girl." He shuddered.

Kisle Ber kept watch on the army's dust as Princess Alicae led them on a little-used road to Lathor. They would turn east before Lathor and cross the river into Curesia. They saw no one on the road or in the fields. "Word of war travels fast," said Lars Vokas. The road became broken, with weeds growing in its middle. One section had been washed out by heavy rains last year and never repaired.

"Who uses this road now?" asked Zae Pol, who had caught up with the Princess.

"Bors Taria is the only one. This is his land. He does not allow any nobles or their servants here without his leave. He trusts no one, but is very loyal to Mother. Upon news of war, he would have gathered all his serfs and freeloaders to his estate. His small army could defend themselves well for he built his home on a high hill surrounded by rough, rocky terrain."

"He has his own army? I would not expect Queen Beatrice to allow that," said Zae Pol.

"I told you, he is very loyal. Mother trusts him more than she trusts me."

"Look!" cried Lars Vokas, pointing to a dark cloud rising to the east. "That's where Lathor is. Could the castle be in peril?"

"It was in peril when we left," said Zae Pol. "There was something going on and I could never figure it out."

"Were they betrayed?" asked Kisle Ber.

"I do not know. We must make haste to Curesia. My heart tells me our lives are in serious jeopardy."

"You are correct," said Princess Alicae. "I sense the malice reaching out toward us. Let us move quickly and not stop until we reach the border."

"So far?" asked Lars Vokas. "I am already tired."

"Better tired than dead," snapped the Princess. She grabbed Kisle Ber's hand and began to run.

Gerrand woke up with a headache, the likes of which he could not remember. The back of his eyes throbbed and his dinner threatened to vacate his body. He moaned and slowly gained his feet. Something felt wrong in the wind, but he could not place it. Even his appetite was off. He walked several minutes in the morning sunlight beyond the edge of the campsite. Faeya Ryr found him and put her arm through his arm. She felt the tension through his sleeve.

"You are troubled this morning. What is it?"

"I fear I have moved too late and Macelan has planned too well."

"What do you know?"

"Nothing, but I recognize the changes in the wind. There are tremors in the land that are…unaccountable. I am anxious. Come, we must speak with the others."

She held back. A shadow crossed her face.

"You must tell me. Why must I wait to hear it with the others? I thought I was special to you." Gerrand turned and looked at her. He smiled as a grandfather to a child, kindly, without passion.

"You are, but we don't have time for such things now. We must hurry. Our plans must be changed."

Gerrand hurried off, leaving Faeya Ryr watching him. Her face was flushed. She muttered a few words, and then followed him.

Gerrand had everyone assembled by the time she caught up with him. She did not look at him.

"Friends, I fear we have moved too slowly. There are changes in the wind and I fear what they portend."

"Speak plainly," said Hile Berbac.

"Macelan has returned already."

"What makes you think so?" asked Hile Berbac.

"Ages ago, when Macelan lived, there were sounds in the wind caused by his spells. The sounds could not be heard without the aid of a hearing spell and I have kept a vigil through the years. Since his death, I have not heard the same sound in all the time since. Never. Until this morning. I listened for several minutes and tried to be dispassionate about my determination, but there can be no doubt. Macelan has returned." He looked at the shocked faces around him.

"Whether the trap is before us now or not, I cannot say. Our paths must diverge here. You continue to Wolk's estate and spy out the land. Wolk must be preparing for Macelan to wage his war. I will go to Jespin and see what High Lord Gharom is planning. That too, may be part of the trap."