The Way of Light

by Storm Constantine

  ‘I think you would be a splendid queen,’ Taropat said.

  Helayna’s smile faded a little. Shan saw that, for a moment, she dared to believe someone had come to her who could restore her power. She wanted so desperately for that to be true. ‘How I long to rid Tarnax of vermin,’ she said softly, her eyes glinting in the firelight. ‘My family ruled there for eight generations. Our blood goes back to Great King Alofel. Ashalan has betrayed it. Alofel must writhe in his grave. In his day, Cos bowed to no one.’

  ‘Indeed,’ Taropat said.

  ‘How can you help me?’ Helayna asked sharply. ‘The task is too big and we are too few.’

  Taropat contemplated for a moment, his fingers steepled against his mouth. ‘I do not yet know,’ he said at last. ‘I need to know you, become familiar with your ways. I need the time and space to look into the aethers, discern what is happening in other places. I could find allies for you, other magi who travel the astral realm. You can be sure the world is full of men and women who secretly detest the empire and would give their loyalty to a woman intent on toppling it.’

  ‘This is a dream,’ Helayna said. ‘A wonderful dream, but like snow beneath the sun.’

  ‘Look at me,’ Taropat said. ‘I am living evidence that miracles can happen.’

  Helayna’s smile returned. ‘Whatever happens, you have entertained me. You may stay with us.’

  Over the next few months, Shan came to realise that Helayna very much liked having a personal vizier like Taropat. There had once been a wise woman with the resistance, named Old Mag, but she had died during the summer. Shan was wary of becoming known as Helayna’s champion warrior, because it would only cause resentment in people who’d fought at her side for years. He maintained a low profile, bore the jokes and tricks of those around him, and gradually made friends. But occasionally, he caught Helayna watching him, a speculative expression on her face. Shan was unsure what lay behind it: suspicion, awareness or mistrust? While Taropat spent most days talking with Helayna and teaching her the rudiments of the magical craft, Shan went out hunting with his comrades, tended the meagre crops they had, repaired the dwellings or cared for the animals. It was a simple life, similar in many respects to the one he’d had and lost in childhood. Perhaps this was how it would be now: a return to humble roots. He’d had his moment of glory on the quest for the Crown, but it was over. He’d played his part and the light of the gods must now shine upon others. He did not think Taropat could help Helayna. As she’d accurately pointed out, the resistance was too small to affect the might of the empire. It had just been a dream. Ultimately the quest had been, for him at least, concerned only with personal growth, not with changes to the world.

  Then Taropat had the vision. As he’d promised Helayna, he spent many private hours in meditation, his spirit winging through the astral realm, seeking allies. No one he’d yet encountered had been persuaded to back Helayna. The magi of the world thought it a fruitless and pointless endeavour. But one day, close to sundown, Taropat came staggering blindly from the cave where he meditated. Shan, who was grooming a horse nearby, dropped his tools and ran forward to his mentor.

  ‘Taropat, what is it?’ The man had been blinded on the quest at Lake Pancanara, but his sight had been restored to him. Had it now been taken again?

  Taropat put his hands against his eyes and sank to the ground. His whole body was shuddering. By this time, others had gathered around him, asking questions. Shan held Taropat close, his head whirling. ‘Stand back,’ he said. ‘Fetch Helayna.’

  The princess came quickly and once she was before him, Taropat pulled away from Shan and got to his feet. He seemed perfectly all right. ‘I know what we must do,’ he said.

  ‘What?’ Helayna demanded.

  ‘I have the power of the Eye within me, and my vision travels far. The emperor is not long for this world. I have seen him dying. I went into his mind and for some time had to fight to escape it.’

  Helayna uttered a choked laugh, almost of incredulity. ‘If Leonid dies, Magrast will be unstable. His sons will fight for succession.’

  ‘But perhaps not in any way we could imagine,’ Taropat said. ‘I have seen many times that the Dragon Heir will wear the Crown. But until today one crucial thing escaped me. It seems so obvious now.’ He paused.

  ‘What? What?’ Helayna demanded.

  ‘Who is the Dragon Heir?’ Taropat said.

  Helayna screwed up her face in vexation. ‘Palindrake, of course. What do you mean by this?’

  ‘Precisely,’ Taropat said softly. ‘Valraven Palindrake. The heir to Caradore, whose father serves the empire.’

  There was a silence, then Shan said. ‘The Dragon Lord’s son.’

  ‘I saw a child as king,’ Taropat said, ‘but a child who aged before my eyes and turned into Valraven Palindrake. The message is obvious. We must go to Caradore.’ Pushing people aside, he marched towards the dwelling he shared with Shan.

  ‘He means to kill the child?’ Helayna said to Shan.

  Shan shrugged. ‘I have no idea.’ He hurried after Taropat.

  In their shared dwelling, he found his mentor gathering up some of his possessions. He seemed fevered, his movements jerky. Without looking up at Shan, who was standing helplessly in the doorway, Taropat said, ‘Palindrake knows it’s too late for him in this life. He’ll invest all his energy into his son.’

  Shan came into the room. ‘You want to kill this child?’

  Taropat looked up then. ‘Kill it? Well, actually I hadn’t thought of that. It seems clear to me we must take the boy for ourselves.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘If he is indeed the true king, then we must ensure he becomes one. Close to his family, which is loathsome on both sides, he will eventually become tainted. He must be taken from them.’

  Shan stared at Taropat in dumb disbelief for some moments. So, he failed with me, he thought. And now he seeks a new apprentice, someone worthy, a child to mould. ‘Just how do you suppose you might accomplish that?’ he asked in a cold voice.

  ‘Fate is on our side. Once Leonid dies, Palindrake’s family is bound to go to Magrast for the funeral. The wife is the emperor’s daughter, after all. The children might travel with their mother, or they might not. I will continue to quest for information in the aethers. If the boy leaves Caradore, we will snatch him on the road. If not, we will take him from the castle. Palindrake won’t be there, just the domestic guard. I know that place inside out. It won’t be that difficult.’

  ‘You are insane,’ Shan said. ‘It can’t possibly be that easy.’

  Taropat threw a bundle of clothes angrily onto the floor. ‘Since we left Breeland, my dreams have been plagued with images of Palindrake as king,’ he said. ‘It was as if my own mind was tormenting me. But all along, it was trying to show me the truth. I am now completely sure what must be done. It is meant to be.’

  ‘You can’t make a king out here,’ Shan said. ‘If you think you can, the future is condemned to remain in the realm of dreams. Palindrake will come looking for the boy. He has access to magi too, doesn’t he?’

  ‘You are too comfortable here,’ Taropat said with a sneer. ‘Remember the quest, what we learned upon it, how we felt. It cannot have been for nothing. Pancanara surrendered the Crown to us. We were deemed worthy. Therefore, I believe we can do whatever we set our minds to, as long as well follow the destiny of the Crown. Do not waste the power of the Claw, Shan. Remember who you are.’

  I do, Shan thought, but perhaps you have forgotten.

  Helayna supported Taropat’s idea, probably because she had come to have faith in him, and also because she wanted, once more, to have an effect upon the world. She offered ten of her best warriors as escort, men skilled at moving invisibly in the landscape.

  But perhaps Helayna was not quite as confident in Taropat as she appeared. Before he and Shan left for the coast, Helayna contrived to speak with Shan alone. She approached him while he was clean
ing the stables and asked him to accompany her to her dwelling, which during the day was generally deserted. Once there, she confronted him with a direct question. ‘Do you think this child is the true king?’

  ‘No,’ Shan answered honestly. ‘And neither does Taropat, in his heart. He is driven by his visions and his fears.’

  ‘This act will inflame Palindrake.’

  ‘Of course.’

  ‘Hmm.’ Helayna folded her arms, gazed past Shan’s shoulder for a moment, then her eyes swivelled back towards him. ‘I know you fear Palindrake will come looking for the boy here, but does he really have any idea that Khaster Leckery might return from the dead to steal his son, and also that he would bring him to Cos?’

  ‘I think Palindrake knows Khaster isn’t dead by now,’ Shan said, ‘and there are few enemies to the empire left who have the will to act against the Dragon Lord. You will fall under suspicion, I’m sure.’

  Helayna nodded slowly. She appraised Shan. ‘I’m surprised Taropat hasn’t tried to make a king out of you.’

  ‘Why?’ Shan felt his face flush.

  ‘I have been watching you,’ she said. ‘Seen the way you are with people. You have grace, Shan, an inner quiet, but it is also very clear how strong you are, how purposeful. You would make a king whose people would love him. Taropat must have seen this.’ She paused. ‘I can’t help thinking your apprenticeship began along different lines to what it has become.’

  ‘I no longer look upon myself as Taropat’s apprentice,’ Shan said. ‘Perhaps I am not the person he thought I would grow into.’

  Helayna said nothing for a moment, silence that filled Shan with discomfort. What was she trying to say to him? Eventually, she said, ‘The child must be removed from his family, if there is any chance Taropat’s vision might be correct. But I’m not sure we should make a king of him.’

  ‘Then you would kill him?’

  She glanced at him sharply. ‘I did not say that.’ A pause. ‘You do not have noble blood, do you?’

  ‘I would think that was quite obvious.’

  Again, she looked thoughtful. ‘A champion may be given title by a queen.’

  ‘My ladyc’

  ‘What?’

  He shook his head. ‘I am unsure of what you mean by this conversation.’

  ‘Then think on it,’ she said.

  Troubled, Shan left her and went to make the final preparations for their journey. Had Helayna implied she would consider making him her consort if she became queen of Cos? Without allies, she could never accomplish that. She was as full of dreams as Taropat was.

  Now Shan and Taropat were in Caradore, following a vision. Taropat had assured his company that Leonid was dead and that Varencienne Palindrake had travelled to Magrast with her children and a small escort. Taropat knew the Caradorean terrain well and had selected an area where the kidnap would be attempted: a narrow pass in the mountains that led to Caradore Castle. It was far from any settlements or noble estates. Shan still felt uneasy. Palindrake was not stupid. Given the instability of the empire and the fact he was ostensibly a supporter of Prince Gastern, he’d surely realise his son should be placed under extra guard. It was unlikely the Dragon Lord would be able to return with his family to Caradore at this time, but it was not impossible. What would I do in his place? Shan wondered. Keep the family in Magrast perhaps. We might be wasting our time here.

  The company camped in the mountains for several nights and the only people who passed beneath their hidden base were a few farmers, merchants and travellers. Even the Cossics were beginning to become sceptical that Princess Varencienne would return upon this road, at least in the near future. But Taropat remained convinced that she would.

  Shan wondered how long Taropat would keep this up. Any day now, a member of the Leckery household might pass beneath them, servants whom Taropat would recognise, or perhaps even one of his family. Did he feel nothing being so close to his old home? Didn’t he yearn to see it once more? He’d always spoken of it with such affection. But no mention was made of Norgance, the Leckery domain, and Shan didn’t have the will or the desire to mention it himself. Taropat was a hard, self-obsessed man. But he hadn’t always seemed that way. During those few days of waiting, as the early spring rain relentlessly soaked the mountains, Shan reminisced wistfully about his early days in the Forest of Bree, when Taropat had been like an uncle to him. He had pulled Shan from the dark pit of despair that had followed the destruction of his village, Holme, by the Magravandian army and the hideous violation that had been perpetrated upon him. In the wake of recovery, Taropat had taught him so many wondrous things. Shan remembered summer evenings outside the tall narrow house beside the mill pool, when he and Taropat had talked into the night over good food and wine. He remembered Nip, Master Thremius’ apprentice, who had become his best friend. Had she forgotten him now? And Sinaclara, who had taught him how to love a woman, and who had ultimately betrayed him.

  In the late afternoon, sitting on a rocky ledge high above the road, Shan tortured himself with morbid thoughts. I have been torn from every place I ever loved. Holme was destroyed, my relatives killed. The Forest of Bree, where I found solace and friends, is denied me. And now I am removed from Cos, where perhaps I might have had a simple but fulfilling life. Am I weak and foolish to follow this distempered man so loyally?

  He picked up a small rock, intent on throwing it across the pass, but a sound from below stilled his hand. Horses. The rumble of a carriage. At once, Shan’s mind cleared and became alert. The sun had not yet set behind the peaks, but already the road below was in twilight. He crouched on the rock peering down. A chittering animal call from the rocks opposite advised him that Cossic scouts posted there were also alert and ready.

  Then Taropat was beside him, hunched down, energy thrumming from his body like a physical force. Shan glanced at him, and realised that for the first time in months Taropat looked handsome, as a Caradorean knight should appear. Perhaps you are not quite dead yet, Khaster, Shan thought.

  The horses came into view first, six of them: dark glossy bays ridden by armoured men wearing the Palindrake livery. The carriage came behind, black and polished with high wheels, its sides adorned with the sea dragon crest. In that carriage Varencienne Palindrake travelled, no doubt tired and longing for home, oblivious to the danger that lurked so close. Shan almost felt sorry for her, but then reminded himself she was a Malagash, undoubtedly a spoiled and vicious creature.

  ‘Move,’ Taropat hissed at him.

  Six Cossics, who were all trained archers, would remain on the high ledges, while the rest of them would attack the escort from below. Even as Shan hurried noiselessly down the steep narrow path that led to the road, he heard the hiss and thunk of arrows, the hoarse calls of the Palindrake guard.

  By the time he and Taropat reached the scene, the Cossics had already engaged the remaining guards. There were twelve of them altogether, but four had been taken by arrows. The power of the Dragon’s Claw rose in Shan’s blood. He drew his sword, emitting a mighty yell. The sound of it caused some of the Caradoreans to freeze, but not for long. They were skilled fighters, no doubt the best of Palindrake’s domestic guard. Shan had never seen Taropat in combat and only afterwards would he recall the ferocity of his mentor’s attack. He struck at his countrymen as if they were Magravandians, until the last guard was left standing, defending the door to the carriage, his weapon knocked from his grasp.

  Taropat lunged forward, sword raised, but before he could strike, the guard cried, ‘My Lord Khaster!’ his tone that of utter disbelief and shock.

  Taropat paused. For a moment, Shan thought he would recover himself and finish the guard off, but then Taropat lowered his weapon. Around them, men lay on the road, motionless and silent or groaning, four of their own as well as eleven Caradoreans. From within the carriage came the sound of a child whimpering.

  ‘Hamsin,’ said Taropat. ‘I will spare your life. You will tell Palindrake who
did this to him.’

  The surviving guard was an older man, perhaps in his late fifties. He had probably known Khaster as a boy. ‘My Lord Khaster,’ he said again, as if trying to convince himself of what he saw before him.

  The door to the carriage opened. From it stepped a woman, clad in a dark cloak for travelling. Shan would never forget that moment. Her hair was gold and in the twilight it seemed to glow. Her face: it too was glowing. She was smiling as if she had just seen an angel. Shan had never beheld such a beautiful creature. Her every movement was filled with grace. ‘Khaster,’ she said and sank down onto the road in a billow of fabric. At first, Shan thought she had fainted, but then he realised she was actually bowing to Taropat. Why? Perhaps this was not Palindrake’s wife, but one of the Leckery women.

  Taropat did not move. He stared at the woman in some perplexity. ‘You are Varencienne Malagash?’ he snapped, but his voice lacked its usual hard edge.

  ‘I am Varencienne Palindrake,’ said the woman, rising, her chin held high. ‘I had wondered who it would be, and now I know it is you.’

  ‘Your words mean nothing to me,’ Taropat said. ‘Bring forth your children, my lady.’

  Varencienne smiled and Shan was awed by her calm courage. If she’d turned her gaze upon him, he would have bowed before her. ‘You will not have him, Khaster. Rav is in Magrast.’ Her voice was clear and carried far. She was a princess through and through, more so, Shan could not help thinking, than Helayna. ‘We knew there would be an attempt on his life, and were prepared for it.’