Leagues passed beneath Taelant’s hooves as Rand journeyed through Whellein and Daeramor. At midday, he hid himself in a stand of trees in the outskirts of Graelinn’s grasslands and waited for nightfall. Only a lackwit would travel in broad daylight through the plains with welkes flying out from their roost within Maeg Waer, the gloomy pinnacle in the east. Rand also sought to avoid those who might question the direction he traveled. Journeying south and east toward Pilaer would mark him as one of Freaer’s rebels.
He set out again with the road before him shining blue in the moonlight except where the wheels of countless wagons had cut dark ruts. He followed it into the shadows of Weithen Faen before emerging in a place where marsh reeds formed a thicket on either side of the verge. The reeds rustled in stray drafts and a night bird whistled an alarm.
His father had mended the broken places in the road and now watched and waited, gathering strength for the attack he planned. Rand had only been a babe in arms during the siege of Torindan. His father didn’t like the rout his forces had suffered spoken about, but Rand had heard enough whispers to piece together what had happened that day. Torindan had been near surrender when the one called Emmerich stood on the barbican with his arms raised, as if to call down all the forces of Lof Yuel. The darkness that followed had confused his father’s armies. They’d slashed at one another, and then broke and ran.
The clouds parted, and moonlight flared across Pilaer, floating above the drowned lands in the distance. Broken marble pillars flanked the edges of wide stairs as the ghostly fortress hovered over the rooftops of the remains of the town it had once protected. Even as he drew closer, Pilaer receded, but he counted that as a trick of the faen.
The back of his neck prickled. Who knew what darksome creatures lurked nearby? He never liked traveling through the drowned lands at night, although reaching the ruined town was little better.
He rode through the moonlit streets with shadows crouching at the edge of sight, ready to spring. He’d grown accustomed to these wraiths, although he would never call them pleasant companions. They’d plagued him without mercy in his early days. Once he’d understood they could not attack the body but only the mind, his terror had lessened. In this understanding he found an imperfect peace, but whenever he relaxed his guard, the wraiths would run at him. Draeg laughed at the fell beings and even danced with their shadows, but his movements would become frenzied as if driven by fear, and he’d soon run away with wraiths pursuing.
Rand skirted Pilaer’s marble steps and followed the path to the gatehouse. He hailed the watch, and a pale face looked down at him from the battlements.
“Traveler, state your name.” He recognized the voice of one of Draeg’s friends.
“It’s me, Lutz. Rand, son of Chaeldra.” As Freaer’s illegitimate son he lacked the right to call himself by his father’s name.
“Stand forth.”
Rand urged Taelant out of the barred shadow cast by the lowered portcullis and into full moonlight. The screech of metal gave way to a steady clanking as the portcullis lifted. He rode beneath the iron fangs and waited at the wooden door that formed a second barrier until it gave with a rasp. Lutz peered around the opening and gave a chuckle. “You look a mite better than last I saw you.”
Rand stiffened. That had been immediately after Draeg’s last beating, with him writhing from repeated blows to the stomach. Lutz had been one of those urging him to get up and fight again.
Lutz grunted and edged the opening wider. “I suppose you want inside.”
He didn’t really, but there was no help for it. Taelant’s hooves rang on the ancient stone path that cut through the outer bailey toward the stables. Weariness clouded Rand’s mind, but he’d rather not rouse the stable boy in the dead of night. He dismounted and fumbled for the lanthorn tied to his saddle. Shadows climbed the stable wall as he raised it. The door creaked as he pushed it open, but nothing stirred within. He led Taelant into the low building and tended him with quick skill.
When free to seek his bed, he hesitated. Passing through the ruined hold at night could lead to misadventures. It might be better to risk being bitten by rats in the stable loft. And yet…he wanted his own chambers.
He extinguished his lanthorn, familiar enough with Pilaer to walk its corridors without its comfort, and let himself into the keep through a side door. His footsteps echoed as he traveled the corridors. Pilaer had once housed the fathers of his people, but after their defeat at the hands of garns, the Kindren had forsaken the stronghold, and with the passage of time its grandeur now crumbled into decay. His father had repaired the road but had made few restorations to the abandoned hold beyond those needed for ease and readiness for war.
Long flights of stairs delivered him without event to his quarters in the south tower, but as he reached his door, the one across from it scraped open. Light from the candle his mother clutched made hollows in her face and gleamed in the silver-threaded hair of gold that tumbled past her waist. She waved for him to enter, and setting aside his need for sleep, he obeyed. She shut the door and turned partway toward him to stand in profile, the simple tunic she wore hiding her thinness. “Your footsteps woke me, not that I sleep much these days.”
Mother tossed upon her bed for reasons he knew well. But why wouldn’t she look at him? Cupping her chin, he felt her wince. He tilted her face to the light and caught his breath. Angry welts marred her jaw, scratches that had drawn blood. His own jaw tightened. “Amora goes too far!”
She jerked away and covered the telltale marks with her hand. “Pray don’t concern yourself. There’s nothing you can do.”
She answered as she always did. How he hated that she spoke the truth. If he tried to defend her, she would step aside from his protection and suffer greater harm. He sighed. “Why do you endure it?”
She shrugged and made no reply, but then he needed none. She suffered the cruelty of Lof Raelein Amora, High Queen of Pilaer, because she had nowhere else to go‒or so she said. He’d long pressed her for the reason why she remained, but she’d refused to speak of the guilt that kept her chained to the hardships of an ill-favored concubine. After a while, he’d stopped asking her to explain, not certain he wished to know the answer, after all.
She placed her candle in its stand on the mantle of the marble fireplace. Looking down into the flames that guttered in fitful drafts, she spoke with her back to him. “My son, you were gone too long.”
“Why do you say this?”
She turned, but only slightly, still hiding her injuries. “Freaer looks for you each day.” Her brow creased. “What errand did he give you?”
“Something I am not fit to do. I failed utterly.”
“Then you should not have returned!” Alarm throbbed in her voice.
“Don’t concern yourself, Mother. There’s nothing you can do.”
Her eyes widened. “Do you mock me?”
“I only repeat your words to help you understand. He will punish me, but I must accept what I cannot change.” He spoke with confidence but his voice cracked at the last.
“No!” Fear stamped her features. “I’ll not sacrifice you to him. I’ve kept you too long from what you should know.”
“Then tell me now.”
“Your father is evil, Rand. He will prey upon your weaknesses to corrupt you. He drove me to madness for a time, and I committed acts that forever cursed me. And now he seeks to destroy you also, because you are mine. If you cross him, he will crush you. You must leave at once and never return!”
He paced before her. To hear his suspicions spoken as fact saddened him. For his mother’s sake and, if he could admit it, for his own, he’d tried and failed to please his sire. But his father hated him. Killing Mara would have come straight from the hand of evil. How could he have thought otherwise? He’d deceived himself, wanting so badly to believe in his father he’d turned a deaf ear to the pleadings of his own soul. Otherwise, he would have seen the truth for himself. In declaring it, his mother freed hi
m.
He caught her hand and kissed it. “Escape with me.”
She pulled away, her expression shuttered. “I cannot.”
“Cannot or will not?”
“What does that matter? Either way I am bound to my fate.”
“Don’t ask me to leave you!” But he spoke without hope.
She touched his face. “Taking me would serve you ill.”
“I don’t care. Whatever your shame, I will bear it.”
“My son, always remember that I love you.” Her voice broke, and she turned away with tears trembling in her eyes. When he would speak, she held up a hand. “I beg of you—go.”
He hesitated. How could she ask this of him? In his early days he’d first noticed the disrespectful way others spoke to her, and he’d vowed to protect her with his life. Now it seemed he could not save her at all, for whatever choice he made would wound her.
A thudding came at the door. “Open in the name of Lof Shraen Freaer!” They gave his father the title he strove to steal from Elcon.
Mother swung around to clutch his arm, her eyes wild. “Hurry! You must escape through my maid’s chamber.”
The maid’s door burst open as several guards, the gold and red Rose of Rivenn on their surcoats, swarmed into the chamber. They surrounded Rand. “The Lof Shraen summons you.”
How had they found him so quickly? And then he remembered Lutz at the gate. Of course. Mother’s gaze clung to his as they shoved him out the door. Flanked by guards, he stumbled down the tower stairs and along torchlit corridors toward the presence chamber.
His father sat on his throne with Amora beside him, the two much alike in their golden beauty He waved his cup at the guards, sloshing wine. At this time of night, he would be enjoying certain pleasures rather than sleeping. “Leave us.”
Urwan, a garn dressed in chainmail and leather, remained beside his master on the carved marble throne, but the strongwood door thudded shut behind the other guards. Rand stood motionless at the edge of a faded gryphon inlaid in the marble floor, waiting to learn his fate.
His father pierced him with a glance, the expression on his face unreadable. “You have failed me.”
How could his father know this? He’d spoken to no one but Mother. Could her maid have overheard their conversation and reported it? The guards had come through the maid’s door, after all. And yet, there would have been little time for her to relay information to them. Perhaps his father knew nothing but hoped to trap him into revealing the truth. Well, he could have it. Rand had no intention of adding to his sins by lying. “I did not complete my mission.”
His father’s face snapped into lines of anger. “I will have obedience from my subjects!”
Rand ignored the pain that always sliced through him when his father refused to acknowledge him as a son. Even after what his mother had told him, it stabbed him. He knew better than to question or explain and so returned silence.
A cord stood out in his father’s neck. “Have you nothing to say for yourself?”
For the first time in his life, Rand faced his father’s wrath with composure. “I have no defense.”
His father’s eyes searched his own. “You think it only a matter of accepting punishment, but I promise you it will not be that simple.”
Uneasiness stirred within Rand. Mother had called his father evil, and a force by that name now throbbed through the chamber.
“By disobeying my will you stand guilty of treason, a crime punishable by death. I will have my due, make no mistake, but it pleases me to let my lof Raelein choose your fate.” He bowed to Amora.
Her eyes glinted, and she lifted her wine goblet in a salute. “Let his mother take his punishment.” The soft words pierced him, each an arrow.
“No!” Rand shouted.
Urwan stepped closer.
Rand’s hands fisted at his sides, but he knew better than to attack a garn without a weapon.
Father arched a brow. “You object?”
“The fault is mine alone. Take my life instead.”
“Gladly.” A small smile accompanied the words even as Amora scowled. “You have only to return and complete your mission and return, and then I’ll allow you to die in your mother’s place.”
Part Two
Torindan
7
IN THE WILD LANDS
“Wake up, Mara.” A masculine voice dragged Mara out of darkness. The warmth of a blanket covered her, and strong arms cradled her. It seemed a dream, almost, but the aching breath she drew felt real enough. Mustering her strength, she tucked herself against her rescuer’s chest. How long had it been since she’d felt so small and defenseless? Not since her father—Quinn—had carried her as a child. If only she could lift her head enough to look into his face. The voice was not Rand’s, but she seemed to know it.“Who are you?” Her whisper barely stirred the air.
“Someone unwilling to let you die, although you seem given to the notion.”
“I deserve that.”
“You shouldn’t have tried to cross the passes alone.”
“My guide left me.”
“Rand thought he was protecting you.”
“How come you to know his name?” For that matter, how had he known hers? She craned her neck but only glimpsed a strong jaw and black hair before her strength died. She sagged back against him, thankful that he seemed bent on helping her.
“Let yourself rest.” His murmur lulled her into a kind of half-sleep.
She woke to the rattle of empty branches as the trees surrounding her swayed in the wind. Her feet burned as if on fire. Memory rushed over her in a tide, leaving a different kind of pain in its wake. She tried to sit up but gasped and fell back again.
“Have a care.”
She turned her head and found a black-haired man watching her from dark eyes. “My feet…”
“I’ll try not to hurt them.” He raised her with an arm at her back. “Will you drink?” He picked up a cup.
The rim pressed her lips, and she opened her mouth. Cool water slid down her throat, easing its dryness. She drank her fill. “Thank you for saving my life.”
“I’m glad to have found you.” He set the cup aside.
She stared at him, intrigued. The lift of his head bespoke nobility, but he wore a humble woolen tunic and ragged cloak. “Who are you?” she asked.
“I am called Emmerich.”
“My name is Mara. How long have I slept?”
“The better part of a day.”
“I want to go home.” The words slipped out of their own accord. Well, she would not take them back. If only she could return to the inn, but it was too late to start over.
“Stop telling yourself what you can’t have,” he scolded her.
She narrowed her eyes. “How is it you know my thoughts? Do you use magic?”
He smiled and shook his head. “Your face gives away every thought.”
Something moved at the corner of Mara’s eye. She turned her head. “Lilthe! I thought I’d lost her.” Her joy gave way to sorrow, and she shut her eyes on tears. “She’s lame.”
“Not any longer.”
Her eyes flew open. “How did my horse heal so quickly?” Mara tried to rise but the bindings on her feet prevented her.
“Don’t try to walk.” He unwrapped the bandages on her feet to reveal blackened and swollen skin.
She winced. “Will I ever be able to use them again?”
“They will mend in time. Until then, you’ll need to ride or be carried.”
“How will I manage?” she wailed.
He gave her a gentle smile. “You must rely on me.”
“But I don’t want to keep you from wherever you are going.”
“You can come along.” He bandaged her feet again. “Although you may not like the journey.”
Rand pushed open the door to his mother’s outer chamber. He shouldn’t have come, but he had to see if she was really gone. Despite all, he still wanted to believe
his father would not do so horrible a thing, that this nightmare was not real, and that he would find his mother within her chambers, engaged in music or some other pleasant pastime.
Carved images of wingabeasts, gryphons, and unibeasts cavorted across the face of the yawning fireplace. Wax drippings marred the mantle where the candle Mother had left there only the night before had burned low, the spreading pool of wax extinguishing its flame.
He pushed away from the door and came more fully into the chamber. Mother must have fought the taking of her liberty, for signs of a struggle could not be mistaken. A small table lay on its side, a crack across its marble top, the woven rug twisted beneath it. The mirror glass on the wall behind the table had fallen and shattered.
A wave of sickness rolled over Rand, and he sucked in a breath. He couldn’t think of his mother in the rat-infested dungeon. She had always feared the dark.
Footsteps sounded in his mother’s inner chamber. He’d been quiet out of habit, not expecting to trap an intruder, but now he went still.
The connecting door swung inward.
He waited, tensed and ready…
Mother’s maid, wearing one of her mistress’s jeweled coif headdresses, preened herself as she stepped into the inner chamber. Her eyes widened at sight of Rand, and she tried to slip past him.
He grasped the maid’s arm. “Thief!”
She dug her nails into his hand. “Let go of me, or I’ll scream for the guard!”
What was he doing? He’d never harmed a member of the fairer sex and would not start now.
“Let her go.” The voice Rand least wanted to hear intruded. He released the maid, who spat on him before fleeing, but he barely noticed her, so intent was he on his half-brother. Clad in the green and scarlet surcoat that marked a member of Pilaer’s high guard, Draeg stood in the doorway, his posture deceptively casual. He wore no sword, but a dagger waited upon his belt. With hair of gold springing from his brow and eyes of lightest silver, he had the beauty of both his father and mother.
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