The Mirror of Her Dreams (90 page)

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Authors: Stephen Donaldson

BOOK: The Mirror of Her Dreams
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Terisa was still in one piece. Amazing.

 

It would have been nice to sit there and enjoy her survival for a moment. But Geraden was scrambling frantically at the slope. At first, the climb looked too steep for him. Then she saw that he was going to make it. Soon he would be out of sight.

 

She struggled off her horse, took a few tentative steps to test the solidity of the world, then pushed herself into a tight run.

 

The ridgeside was certainly steep. It was well supplied with embedded rocks and protruding roots, however. And Geraden's upward scramble had cleared away a remarkable amount of snow. She found that if she didn't hurry-and didn't look down -she could make the ascent quite easily.

 

On the way, she tried not to think about how far ahead he was. Or what he intended to do.

 

Gasping at the icy air, she reached the crest.

 

The spine separating the two ravines was much the same here as it had been back where she and Geraden had eavesdropped on Nyle and Prince Kragen: a bit gentler down its northward face; marked with brush, jutting piles of rock, a few trees; but still steep. The stream which had cut the ravine clung to the base of the spine, wandering slowly out of sight to the east. The ravine itself was gone, however. Its own north side had slumped down and opened up into a wood which filled the lower ground between this spine and another ridge of hills. The ridge was plainly visible through the bare treetops, although it appeared to be some distance away.

 

Geraden, on the other hand, was nowhere to be seen.

 

She would have panicked, but she had no time. Almost at once, she spotted Nyle.

 

He rode at a trot along the streambed. He was still off to her left, coming eastward; but in a moment he would be directly below her. If she were the kind of person who did such things, she could have hit him with a rock.

 

More because Nyle's movement drew her gaze in that direction than because she had recovered her common sense, she looked at the slope in front of her and saw the marks of Geraden's descent. They went straight into a thick clump of brush poised above the streambed.

 

She figured out what was happening just in time to control her surprise as Geraden sprang out of the brush at his brother.

 

His elevation and proximity gave him an advantage: he could hardly have missed. And he jumped hard. His momentum carried Nyle out of the saddle and plunged both of them into the snow on the far side of the horse with a sound that made Terisa think of snapped arms and broken backs.

 

She started down the slope, a shout locked in her throat.

 

Geraden's experience with falls stood him in good stead. He was on his feet again almost instantly. Scattering flurries of snow, he dashed after the startled horse and struck the beast on its rump, sending it away at a gallop, out of reach. Then he turned back to his brother.

 

Nyfe lifted his head. For a moment, he didn't appear to realize that he was blind because his face was caked in snow. When he scraped his features clear, however, he was able to see.

 

'Are you all right?' asked Geraden. 'I didn't mean to hurt you. I just wanted to stop you.'

 

Blinking fiercely, Nyle shook his head. In a series of jerks, he moved each of his arms, then his legs. He slapped snow off his half-cloak. All at once, he yanked himself to his feet like a knife-blade opening.

 

'
If you think this is a joke,' he said between his teeth, 'it isn't funny.'

 

Terisa's exhausted legs nearly failed her; she stumbled and had to catch herself on a tree. But she was almost there.

 

'It isn't a joke.' Geraden was so caked and white that he looked like he had been rolled together by children. Nevertheless there was nothing child-like in his manner. 'I'm not going to let you do it.'

 

Terisa reached the streambed and skittered across the frozen surface towards the two brothers.

 

'Do
what?'
snapped Nyle. 'You've lost your mind. I was just
riding.
On a
horse.
Remember horses? You act like that's a crime against humanity.'

 

'Nyle.' Geraden held himself still. Even his voice became still. 'I heard you. I was there.' He included Terisa. 'We were there. We heard everything you said. And Prince Kragen.'

 

For just a second, Nyle gaped at his brother. He gaped at Terisa.

 

Mutely, she nodded in confirmation.

 

He straightened his shoulders, and anger closed his face like a shutter.

 

'So you've decided to stop me. Full of moral superiority, you've decided to stop me because you cling to the astonishing belief that King Joyse and chaos and terrible Imagery and a fresh start to the wars that crippled Mordant for generations are somehow
preferable
to putting the Perdon on the throne and saving the entire kingdom. You-'

 

'No.' Geraden shook his head, suppressing violence. 'It won't work. The Perdon will never accept Prince Kragen's offer-he knows that. He's sending you to do this to confuse the issue, so the Perdon won't have a chance to fight for Orison when Alend attacks.'

 

'You're wrong, Geraden.' Terisa was surprised to hear herself speak. Her voice was like a small animal huddling against the cold and barely alive. 'I'm sorry. I've met the Perdon. I've seen him and Prince Kragen together. He's desperate. He won't turn the Prince down.'

 

Geraden gave her a quick look of dismay; but Nyle didn't glance away from his brother. 'Even if that's not true,' he resumed, 'you're acting like a child. Prince Kragen is right. The Alend Monarch is right. The
worst
thing that can happen to us is for High King Festten to get his hands on the Congery.

 

'We're already being torn apart by an Imager no one can find or stop. Cadwal will be able to decimate everything west of the Vertigon if the Congery falls. On our mother's grave, Geraden, we ought to
beg
Margonal to invade us.

 

'Instead of interfering, why don't you figure out what you're going to say to all the families who are going to be butchered- all the children who are going to be bereaved-all the men and women who are going to be maimed and massacred when King Joyse finally collapses and no power strong enough to hold the realm together takes his place? 'In the meantime, get out of my way.'

 

Thrusting between Geraden and Terisa, he stamped off after his horse.

 

The dismay on Geraden's face got worse. For a moment, he seemed unable to move. Confused and alarmed, Terisa reached out a hand to him. 'Geraden?'

 

Abruptly, his features knotted, and he swung into motion. Chasing Nyle, he yelled, That's great! Wonderful! You're right, of course. You're being perfectly reasonable. Our father is going to be very proud of you.' Nyle flinched, but kept on walking.

 

There's just one thing. What about loyalty? King Joyse is our father's
friend.
What about self-respect? You're betraying your
King,
the man who made Mordant and peace out of nothing but bloodshed. How are you planning to live the rest of your life without loyalty or self-respect?'

 

'Loyalty to
whom?'
Though Nyle's stride didn't falter, his shout was like a cry. 'King Joyse? When was he ever loyal to
me?

 

'He met all of us. He must have seen me dying for his notice, his approval. But
you're
the one he invited to Orison. When he decided to betroth Elega, he chose
you.
And a brilliant choice it was, too. You've certainly vindicated his good judgement, haven't you? Forgive me, but I find it a little difficult to feel warm and sentimental about that man.

 

'And he's going to get us all
killed!'
Small pieces of his distress echoed back from the treetrunks. 'Don't you understand that? How much
self-respect
are you going to get out of giving your life for a man who sacrificed you simply because he
couldn't be bothered
to hold his realm together? If you want to talk about self-respect, ask yourself why you place so little value on your own blood. I won't even mention the blood of all the people you claim to care about.' Then why-'

 

Geraden caught up with Nyle and grabbed his arm. Nyle flung off Geraden's grip. The two brothers faced each other, their breath steaming furiously.

 

Then why,' Geraden repeated, 'are you so angry about it?' He was no longer shouting. His voice sank to a whisper, 'You're doing what you know is right. Doesn't that make you feel good? And you're doing what Elega wants. She'll love you for it. She won't be able to help herself. Doesn't that make you feel good?'

 

'No.' Like Geraden, Nyle lowered his voice as if he didn't want the trees or the snow to hear him. 'No, it doesn't.' Each word hurt. That's how I got into this, but it doesn't help. She doesn't love me. She'll never love me. She loves Prince Kragen.'

 

All around him, the wood was silent. The only noise came from Terisa's boots as she neared the brothers. The sunlight out of the leaden sky seemed to have no weight, no effect against the cold.

 

Geraden spread his hands in a gesture of appeal. Then give it up. Please. This is all craziness anyway. There's no way the Alend Monarch can take Orison without a terrible siege-without killing any number of people. I don't care what Prince Kragen says. The Tor and Castellan Lebbick won't give up. The only lives you're going to save are Alend's, not ours. Don't throw yourself away for a woman who wants to betray her own father.'

 

Terisa saw at once that Geraden had made a mistake. He should have left Nyle's grief to gnaw at him unaided-shouldn't have mentioned Elega again. But it was too late now: the damage was done. As if the bones of his skull were shifting, Nyle's face took on the implacable set which had persuaded Prince Kragen to trust him. His eyes were as dull as weathered stone.

 

'If you want my advice'-he had a white-knuckled grip on himself-'go home while you can. And take Artagel with you. He isn't going to enjoy losing his famous independence.'

 

'Nyle'
Geraden protested.

 

Nyle glanced over his shoulder. 'I see my horse. He'll let me catch him-if you haven't spooked him too badly.' He returned his gaze to Geraden's. 'You're going to stay here while I go get him. Then I'm going to ride away. If your mind is as weak as your talent for Imagery, you'll go back to Orison and tell Lebbick the whole story. It won't do him any good, but at least he'll have something to fret about for a few days. But if you have any sense, you'll keep your mouth shut.'

 

Softly, Geraden replied, 'No.' Clogged with snow, he looked white and foolish beside his dark-clad brother. Pain came from him in gouts of vapour, but his voice and his eyes and his hands were steady. 'No, Nyle. I won't let you go.'

 

Briefly, Nyle's features twisted as though he were trying to smile. Then his shoulders and arms relaxed. 'I guess I knew you were going to say that.' He made an unsuccessful effort to sound casual. 'You always were pretty stubborn.'

 

Terisa struggled to give warning, but her voice failed her, As if she were helpless, she watched Nyle start into a full-circle spin which seemed to lift him off the ground, out of the snow, bringing one of his boots to Geraden's head.

 

His kick slammed his brother down.

 

For a moment, Geraden arched his back and clawed at the crust. Then he lay still as if his neck were broken.

 

Quickly, Nyle bent to examine his brother.

 

When he was satisfied, he swung to face Terisa. Now he couldn't contain his fury. His hands clenched and unclenched spasmodically at his sides. The muscles of his jaw worked.

 

Take care of him. If you let him die out here, I'll come back and throttle you with my bare hands.'

 

He headed for his horse at a run, as though there were hounds at his heels.

 

She never saw him go. Her hands were too cold; she couldn't find any sensation in her fingers. She was weeping with fear and frustration when she finally located the pulse in Geraden's throat and understood that he wasn't dead already.

 

 

 

A long time seemed to pass before she noticed that her surroundings were familiar.

 

Through the black-trunked trees, she saw a ridge of hills. She had seen it earlier without paying any attention to it; but now its crisp line against the wintery sky tugged at her memory. Where -? It had been slightly different. She remembered dry, light flakes frothing like steam, churned to boiling by the haste of horses. She remembered the creaking of leather, the jangle of tack. And she remembered-

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