The Way of Light

by Storm Constantine

  ‘Helayna’s people move around,’ Tayven replied. ‘I could probably find them for you, butc’ He let the sentence hang, gazed up at Valraven from beneath lowered brows.

  ‘I had thought of this. Unfortunately, Tatrini is reluctant to let me take you from here.’

  Tayven expelled a snort of derision. ‘What do you expect? Can you not act independently, or is her approbation too important to you? Why did you even ask her? If you hadn’t, you could have just come here, ordered Sanchis to let me go with you, and then claimed ignorance of the woman’s displeasure.’

  ‘I realise this,’ Valraven said dryly. ‘Still, it is too late now. However, I have decided not to obey her directive.’

  Tayven’s face bloomed into a smile. The heaviness of slumber faded from his countenance in an instant. ‘I will get dressed,’ he said.

  Valraven merely nodded, frowning. Would he regret this?

  Just as Tayven was pulling on his boots, a knock came at the door. Valraven went to open it and saw Sanchis standing outside, his face set into a fretful expression. Valraven saw loyalty to the Dragon Lord, and that was enough. ‘What is it, man?’ he snapped.

  ‘The personal guard of the empress is here,’ Sanchis said in a low urgent voice. ‘They mean to take Hirantel to Magrast.’

  ‘Take care who you call empress,’ Valraven said. ‘She is only the Queen Mother now. Can you not hold these men off for a while? I mean to take Hirantel myself. There is business between us.’

  ‘What has happened, sir? Why are you all here in the middle of the night for this prisoner?’ Sanchis was importunate because he knew he held the keys to this place and that Valraven needed his aid.

  Valraven put a hand upon the man’s shoulder. ‘Nothing has happened that will affect you. This matter is personal. Tatrini fears I will lose Hirantel if I take him. This is not the case. The welfare of my family depends upon Hirantel’s co-operation.’

  Tayven was now at the door behind him. ‘Let’s go! Why are you wasting time?’

  Valraven heard the sound of boots – many boots – upon the flagstones further down the passage, around a corner. ‘Damn!’ he hissed.

  Sanchis gestured in the opposite direction. ‘This way, my lord. Quickly.’

  Tayven made to follow, but Sanchis pushed him back into the room and swiftly locked the door. Valraven heard Tayven’s outraged cry through the thick wood.

  ‘Sanchis?’ he said.

  The warden firmed his jaw. ‘I’m sorry, my lord. If you’d come earlier, I’d have let you take him, but I will not risk the wrath of the empress. Please understand this. Turn that corner and wait. I will come to you.’

  There was no time for further argument. Valraven did not want to be seen by Tatrini’s men. He had good reason to be there, of course, as he’d spoken to her earlier about it, but the fact that Tayven was dressed and ready to travel, and the unusual hour of Valraven’s visit, would cast suspicion upon him. Tatrini was clearly already suspicious because she had sent these men now. Perhaps she’d had spies waiting to report on his movements. Valraven turned the corner and pressed himself against the wall. Should he care what Tatrini thought? Would her personal guard even prevent him from taking Hirantel if he explained the need? He knew he had the loyalty of the military, but Tatrini’s people would not dare to cross her. You fear her, he thought. Like all of them, you fear her.

  Chapter Nine: Beyond Old Caradore

  Varencienne stood against the side of the ship, with her daughter standing on an upturned box in front of her, so that the child might look out towards land. Varencienne’s arms gripped Ellony firmly, but the girl wriggled against her, laughing. Her mother had never seen her so happy, so free in her actions. Perhaps she loved being out on the ocean. At Caradore, Varencienne had never thought to take her daughter sailing, despite the fact that the sea was such a big part of their lives, always present, filling the air with its noise and scent.

  ‘There, Elly, look! Old Caradore!’

  ‘Where, mama?’ Ellony jumped up and down on the box excitedly.

  ‘There, my love, round the headland.’

  The ship was some miles from the shore, but even so the early morning sun shone off the quartz-veined rock of the castle, which stood proud, if ruined, against the pale sky. Old Caradore Castle, once the seat of the Palindrakes, to where Cassilin Malagash had led his armies and claimed the Dragon Heir for himself. The castle hadn’t been lived in since the ransack and, as far as Varencienne knew, had been visited only twice by members of the current Palindrake family. Four years before, Merlan had taken her there, then some months later she had visited it with Tatrini and Valraven and his sisters. At that time, Valraven had been reintroduced to his heritage. He had communed with Foy, the Sea Dragon Queen, and swum with the dragon daughters.

  Varencienne had always meant to go back. She’d had plans to renovate the old pile, but somehow she’d never got round to it. The fact that none of her husband’s family were keen on the idea hadn’t helped. Old Caradore was a symbol of their destruction. But, despite these sad associations, Ellony and Rav should have seen it before. Now, she found herself wishing Rav was with them. The castle looked so beautiful from the sea.

  ‘Oh, Mama!’ Ellony breathed. Her small, yet surprisingly slender hands were pressed against her mouth. ‘We should live there.’

  ‘I felt that way when I first saw it,’ Varencienne said.

  ‘Will we land there? We will, won’t we?’

  ‘No, sweetness. Your uncle wants to take us further north, but to a place as beautiful and strange. You’ll love it just as much.’

  Taropat, naturally, detested being referred to as ‘uncle’. Varencienne hadn’t suggested it, either. Ellony’s initial fear of Taropat had swiftly faded. Unfazed by his continuing hostility, she ignored his cold mien and called him Uncle Taro. She hadn’t used the name Khaster, even though she’d been told an expurgated version of his history a long time ago. Varencienne had shown her the best portrait of Khaster at Norgance a couple of years before. ‘He’s beautiful,’ she’d said. She shared her mother’s tastes in most things. Now, it seemed, that fascination had developed into a crush. Varencienne told herself she mustn’t fall under the same spell. This man, whatever his heritage, had taken them both captive. He was an enemy.

  They had been supposed to travel to Cos, but the plan had changed. After a panicked ride back to the coast, during which one of the injured Cossics had died, they’d boarded the waiting fishing vessel and had set sail for the east. During the first night at sea, Taropat had awoken raving from a dream. The cacophony had roused Varencienne from sleep in the small cabin she and Ellony had been allotted as quarters. Pulling on her cloak, she’d ventured onto the deck, where she’d seen two shadowy figures engaged in what appeared at first to be furious debate. One was Taropat, the other, Shan. The ship clove slowly through a placid sea, beneath the benevolent gaze of a fat moon. The scene was that of utter tranquillity; Taropat’s chaotic movements and harsh voice seemed unnatural and out of place. Shan was trying to restrain Taropat, who was waving his arms about, shouting incoherently. As Varencienne stepped forth to investigate, Marius, the captain of the vessel also appeared. He glanced at Varencienne and said, ‘What’s all this about?’ Captain Marius did not know she was a captive, and so far Varencienne had seen no good reason to tell him. She doubted this information would inspire him to help her.

  Varencienne shrugged. ‘I’ve no idea.’

  Together, they approached the others. Shan shot them a wild glance and said, ‘Please, leave us. I can deal with this.’

  ‘Deal with what?’ Varencienne said.

  ‘Shut him up,’ said the captain. ‘This will worry my men.’

  The night watch of the vessel had also come to observe. As with all sailors, they were deeply superstitious; any unusual behaviour was considered darkly omenic.

  Taropat calmed down abruptly, and slapped Shan’s hands away. ‘It is clear,’ he sa
id.

  ‘What is?’ Varencienne asked.

  As had quickly become usual, Taropat ignored her and addressed Shan. ‘A dream came to me. I found myself in a high land, where I could barely breathe. Flags fluttered all around me in a freezing wind, tattered flags of many colours. I saw a temple that covered the side of a mountain and from it flew a man, barely more than a boy. He said to me “I am the destiny of the Dragon’s Crown.” He took me by the hand and we flew with the eagles above the high rocks. We came to a volcanic lake, similar to Pancanara, except that its waters were a deep rusty red. In it, I saw Cos over-run with Magravandians. I saw Helayna taken prisoner by Valraven himself. There is no sanctuary for us there. We must go north, to the most ancient part of Caradore, to High Hamagara.’

  There was a silence while everyone digested this information.

  Then Captain Marius cleared his throat and said, ‘We cannot spend all year on a pleasure cruise. We have our livelihood to think of.’

  ‘You will be recompensed,’ Taropat said. ‘Take us north.’ He swept past the captain and went back into his cabin.

  At once, the Cossic sailors gathered around the captain and began chattering heatedly. Marius raised his hands as if to fend them off. Varencienne smiled to herself. They would take some convincing.

  Shan came to her side. ‘I am sorry about this, my lady.’

  ‘Sorry for what?’ she enquired icily. His utter politeness had begun to grate on her nerves. She would have preferred him to be rude and unsympathetic. Then, it would be easier to hate him. ‘Sorry for this whole outrage or the change of plan? Frankly, your sympathy means little to me in either case.’ She was driven to be waspish with him, even though she knew he was uncomfortable with what Taropat had done. He was also shyly awkward in her presence, which she took to mean he liked her, perhaps in the obvious way. Shan was a very attractive man. It was difficult not to feel flattered by his demure admiration.

  The captain marched away up the deck, his sailors following him, still gesticulating forcefully and all speaking at once. Shan and Varencienne were left alone. Varencienne was not displeased; she would take sport in tormenting Shan. Deliberately, she waited for him to speak first.

  ‘I know you feel there is nothing to be gained from our kidnapping you,’ Shan said. ‘I want you to know that I counselled Taropat against taking you captive.’

  Varencienne went to the side of the ship and leaned upon it. The ocean looked so harmless, as if it couldn’t hurt anyone. How it lied to the world. ‘You go along with him,’ she said, ‘so please don’t bother me with your objections. I am not the person to whom they should be voiced.’

  ‘You do not understand him,’ Shan said. ‘Sometimes, he seems insane, but ultimately his strange behaviour is for the greater good. I’m with him now because I believe that the destiny of the world lies partly in his hands. I have denied this – and him – because I wanted an easy life, but now I am decided. Fate has decreed that your son should not fall into our hands, but instead we have you. I can only believe that is what was meant to happen. If Taropat feels we should go to Hamagara, we will find something important there, and you will be part of it. You are the sea-wife, as was Ellony, Taropat’s sister, and your daughter bears her name. I think a cycle is being repeated.’

  Varencienne stared at him in the moonlight. ‘Why tell me this? Do you suppose I care about your beliefs?’

  ‘No, but I hope knowing them might help you understand why and how you are in this circumstance.’

  His face was mostly in shadow, but sincerity rang through his words. Varencienne felt a pang of regret for needling him. ‘You mean well,’ she said in a softer tone, ‘but if you really support what is left of Khaster Leckery, you should persuade him to put Ellony and I ashore, so we may find our way home. We are not part of your destiny, whatever you believe it is. Valraven will kill you both for daring to lay hands on me, and despite what you might think, I do not want to see that happen.’

  ‘Taropat is driven by instinct,’ Shan said. ‘My lady, forgive me for this, but you know so little of the world. I can see good in you and if you saw the whole picture you would sympathise with our aims.’

  Varencienne snorted in outrage, immediately wishing she had not shown him a chink of kindness. ‘Know so little? How dare you! Do not see good in me, for I assure you, you will be disappointed. Our separate understanding of what is ‘good’ has no correspondence.’ She looked at his face, and even in the wan moonlight could see the bunched muscles, the words they repressed. He was too polite and considerate to vent his thoughts. She could not help softening towards him again. Her feelings were like the waves around them, too fluid and unpredictable. She knew she should be careful. ‘I know of your history, Shan, for Merlan has told me about it. I do not have to tell you this, but I do not condone all that has been done in my family’s name. But one thing you should realise is this: whoever is in power, however altruistic the government, human beings will still commit atrocities against one another. Essentially, we are beasts, and apportioning all blame to one faction is naïve.’

  Shan expelled a choked sound. For a moment, Varencienne thought he would strike her and instinctively backed away. ‘You do not know!’ he cried. ‘You weren’t there. You have never been there. You live in a castle, a wife and mother. You have seen nothing and know nothing. Until you have witnessed people die senselessly, seen your children raped by monsters who call themselves men, and whole villages wiped out for nothing more than blood lust, you have no right to speak.’

  Varencienne was silenced by his passion. She opened her mouth, but no words would come.

  Shan shook his head. ‘Forgive me. I cannot blame you for what you are. You speak only what you know.’ With these words, he walked away from her.

  Varencienne watched the space where he had stood for some minutes, feeling as if she’d just come up for air from beneath a tempestuous sea.

  As Taropat desired, they had sailed north, following the Caradorean coast, instead of east to Cos. And in the morning following the scene on deck they were passing close to Old Caradore, whose sad ruins lay dreaming of past glories. ‘Long ago,’ Varencienne said to her daughter, ‘the people of the sea would swim to caves beneath the castle, and the Palindrakes would commune with them. Stories say that originally the Palindrakes came from the sea.’

  ‘Who are the sea people?’ Ellony asked.

  ‘Ustredi,’ Varencienne replied.

  ‘Can we see them?’ The child squinted at the castle and then at the sea around them.

  ‘No,’ Varencienne said, ‘they are gone now. The stories are very old.’

  ‘Oh,’ said Ellony in disappointment. She squirmed away from her mother and jumped down from the box. ‘Can we have breakfast now? I’m hungry.’

  It was clear to Varencienne that Ellony was very much enjoying their unexpected excursion. She lived totally in the current moment, and although she had missed home when in Magrast, out here on the ocean she seemed to have forgotten her pony, her pets and so on. All for the best, Varencienne thought. She could not bear it if Ellony was afraid or suffering. How different her two children were. Ellony was a free spirit, far more at home in the open air than in a city. She’d never been on a ship before yet had found her sea legs immediately. Rav, on the other hand, had clearly thrived in Magrast and was no doubt enjoying himself there as much as Ellony was now.

  Because the weather was fine, the ship’s cook had laid out a table on deck for the captain, his first mate and the most august of the passengers. The Cossic sailors and Taropat’s men would take their breakfast in the galley. Taropat was absent, although Shan was sitting at the table, looking moody. Varencienne sat down beside him on purpose. It amused her to see his discomfort. As the cook passed round plates of scrambled eggs mixed with rice and smoked fish, she said in a low voice, so that the others might not hear, ‘Merlan told me of your quest last summer.’ She did not look at Shan, but smiled up at the cook, saying,
‘Thank you.’ She took a plate for herself and Ellony and began to eat, conscious of Shan’s tense scrutiny.

  ‘This is very good,’ she said. ‘I’ve heard people say that food tastes better in the open air. It seems they are right.’

  Beside her, Ellony was tucking into her breakfast like a famished crow. For such a slender child, she had an enormous appetite.

  Shan made a sound in his throat. ‘You know of what we found?’

  ‘The Crown?’ Varencienne said airily. ‘Oh yes. Would you pass me some bread, please?’

  Shan did so, saying, ‘You know also then of what happened at the end of our quest?’

  Varencienne nodded, swallowed, then patted a fragment of egg from her lips with a napkin. ‘Yes, that too. There was some dispute over who the Crown belonged to, wasn’t there?’

  ‘Merlan and Tayven think it belongs to your husband,’ Shan said, in a voice that clearly showed he believed this to be the most farcical suggestion.

  ‘Who do you think it belongs to?’ Varencienne enquired. ‘Yourself?’

  ‘I am more fit to wear it than Palindrake,’ Shan said, ‘but no, I do not really think so. I am the Warrior of the True King, but not a potential king myself.’

  ‘Mmm,’ Varencienne murmured. ‘I heard that also. Well, answer my question.’ She adopted a theatrical ringing tone. ‘To whom does the Crown belong?’

  Captain Marius glanced up briefly from the conversation he was having with his Mate, then looked away again.

  Shan’s reply was almost a whisper. ‘Lady Sinaclara, a sorceress of Breeland, told us it belongs to the Dragon Heir, but we believe she is wrong, because your husband is tainted by his past. He has forfeited that role. At first, Taropat thought that perhaps Helayna could be queen instead, but he had a prophetic dream in Cos, and now thinks it is in fact your son. That is why we wanted to kidnap him, so that he could be freed from the corrupting influences of the Malagashes.’