Thorns in Shadow

by Sanan Kolva

  Kithr’s hand rose toward his quiver in search of an arrow. “Ahebban,” he whispered.

  The tree rustled and shifted in response to the god’s tone, branches moving defensively around Lyan. Lyan leaned against Equinox and met the god’s eyes. To his surprise, his voice held steady. “I thought it preferable to having a shrine to the Mad God in one of your fortresses, Lord Ahebban.”

  Nachyne laughed aloud. “He has a point, Ahebban.”

  The Tathren god’s scowl didn’t diminish. “An elven tree.”

  Lyan adopted a different tactic. He bowed as deeply as he dared without falling on his face. “I beg your pardon, Lord Ahebban. I’m not well enough versed in Tathren ways to know how your people would conduct such a battle. I only know the ways of my own people. I am an elf of Eilidh Wood.

  “Yes, that is obvious enough,” snapped the Tathren god.

  “Not to mention he’s the elf of Eilidh Wood who helped your Spearbearer, fought his way here, and killed the devotee of Murdo who raised wards powerful enough to keep you and the rest of the Tathren gods from entering this keep,” Nachyne said in an offhand tone.

  Lyan was starting to think Ahebban incapable of any expression but a fierce scowl. The Tathren god glowered at Nachyne. “I am aware of that.”

  The god of monsters pushed slowly to his feet, his expression growing dark. “Then try expressing a little thanks instead of acting like you’re going to rip Lyan’s head off.”

  Ahebban’s jaw tightened. One hand clenched in a fist, then slowly uncurled. In a forcedly polite tone, he said, “Your assistance to the Tathren Spearbearer Cailean Dev’gilla, and your part in removing Murdo’s blight, is appreciated, Lyan of Eilidh Wood. Now, if you would kindly consider removing this abominable thing from this keep, I would appreciate it.”

  Lyan started to speak, but caught himself. Protesting that the oak was only a tree was like saying Shadowstar was just a horse. He searched for some way… any way to politely refuse to do anything to the tree. Around them, not even Kithr spoke. Lyan wanted to look to his Tathren companions and guess their thoughts, but he couldn’t do so without turning his back on Ahebban, and every instinct warned against giving offense to the god.

  Soft steps crunched over stone shards. Venycia stepped up beside Lyan, and laid a hand on his shoulder again. Seeing her, Ahebban drew a sharp breath as if to object, discomfited by the touch. Venycia looked at the tree, then her gaze met Ahebban’s. “I think instead of trying to be rid of this tree, you should consider it as a symbol of reconciliation between Tather and Eilidh Wood. A sign of elves and Tathrens united against a greater enemy. Putting aside differences and old grudges. Don’t you think it’s about time to do so, Father?”

  The god said nothing in response, but his eyes moved from Venycia to Lyan and back. Lyan’s own mouth tried to drop open in astonishment.

  When she told me her father was a god, I should have guessed. Kithr told me bears are sacred to Ahebban. But knowing Venycia’s mother was an elf, I never thought her father could be a Tathren god. Certainly not THIS Tathren god.

  “Isn’t it time?” Venycia repeated. “We can all see Murdo has begun to act. This won’t be the end—not when both Solstice and Equinox have Bearers once again. Isn’t it time you stopped blaming Soldarr for a decision that was no one’s to make but mine?”

  Ahebban still said nothing.

  “Um…” Lyan cleared his throat. Venycia’s presence, so close and warm beside him, chased thoughts from his mind. Ahebban and Venycia both looked at him. “In regards to the tree, I think Cailean ought to have some say in its fate. If… if he wishes it gone, then I’ll see what Equinox and I can do.”

  As an attempt to move the topic away from divine family quarrels, it was pathetically obvious, but Ahebban showed the first hints of genuine appreciation. At least, he gave Lyan a nod, and his gaze wasn’t so sharp and biting. “Very well—the matter of this… thing is between the Spearbearers to resolve.”

  “It was drawn up by the power of Equinox, and its health linked to the Spearbearer’s. Cailean would be a fool to object to its presence,” Nachyne said in an undertone.

  Lyan leaned back against the tree again. “It’s a tree,” he murmured. “It’s only a tree…” He was sure he should say or do something more, but he was exhausted and his thoughts grew more and more muddled.

  Praett snorted. “Someone ought to start teaching you advantages of being a Spearbearer, master. For example, the right to tell even the gods that their problems can wait when you need to sleep.”

  Lyan blinked, startled by the silky voice, then he shook his head with a faint smile. “Mortals don’t say things like that to gods.”

  “Spearbearers do, master. The gods are indebted to the Spears and Spearbearers. You are the only two mortals in the world who stand any hope of defeating Murdo and his minions. Without the Spearbearers, Murdo would have broken free long ago. The gods need the Spearbearers, master, and for that reason, yes, you do have the right to refuse their demands, and to tell them your own needs are more important than theirs.”

  Before Lyan could gather his thoughts to respond, Kithr spoke, addressing Venycia rather than Ahebban. “If you’re done discussing a tree, we’re still standing in a fortress filled with enemies who don’t know their lord is dead.”

  “And… Dalrian doesn’t know what happened, either,” Shiolto hesitantly put in.

  Lyan turned toward his companions—his friends. For a moment, Lyan thought he saw two Yions and two Shioltos as the room wavered, but when he blinked, his vision steadied again.

  “Kithr?” he asked.

  “What is it, Lyan?”

  “Can I leave the rest of this to you? Try, um, not to insult the Tathren gods too much.” Lyan blinked rapidly and tried to hold onto the trail of thought.

  “Lyan, are you hurt? Are you all right?” Concern filled Kithr’s voice.

  “I think I’m going to pass out pretty soon,” Lyan told him, unsure if he sounded as calm about the matter as he felt. His legs felt as weak as willow branches.

  Gentle hands caught him. “If you don’t object, Kithr, I’ll see to it that Lyan Spearbearer gets the rest he needs,” Venycia said, her voice a musical chime in Lyan’s ears, and her scent lulling him closer to the sleep he wished for.

  Kithr looked at Lyan, then nodded, albeit with reluctance. “All right. I’ll see you when you wake, Lyan.”

  Lyan stopped fighting. The darkness crept around the edges of his vision, and he sank into Venycia’s waiting arms.

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Two nations torn asunder

  By the choice of one born of both.

  Two peoples brought together

  By the rage of madness come to life.

  A crash of thunder tore Lyan from solid sleep, and he jerked up, confused and disoriented. Blood pounded in his ears.

  It’s all right, Lyan.” He heard Venycia’s voice, and his racing heart calmed. Lyan fell back into soft cushions.

  A cool breeze carried the smell of rain through an open window. Lyan blinked away grit and sleep. He rubbed his face and his eyes focused. Above him, men in armor brandished weapons, urging their horses onward as they charged to attack a horde of creatures twice the size of a man armed with gleaming claws and savage fangs. Lyan gazed at the painting for several moments, then pushed himself up to sit on the bed, taking a deep breath of the rain-saturated air. He shivered as cool air played over bare skin. His left ankle ached, but the fresh air chased away the feeling of confining stone walls around him.

  Venycia sat beside the bed. The Guardian wore a long green dress. The loose, gauzy sleeves floated down sculpted arms to silver clasps at her wrists. Black hair hung loose, covering bare shoulders. Lyan flushed. He was naked under the blanket.

  Another crash of thunder rattled the window panes. Fighting embarrassment, Lyan smiled at Venycia. “I have no idea how long I’ve slept, but evidently Toirni thinks it’s time for me to wake up.”

  Venycia l
aughed warmly. “You’ve slept through the morning and a little of the afternoon. Kithr has been checking on you constantly since midday. Lord Cailean came by shortly after he woke, before Aikan dragged him off to attend other matters.”

  “Cailean’s awake? Is he all right?” Lyan asked, straightening.

  “Worn, but healed. A few days to rest, and he will be completely restored,” she assured him. “He sent a servant with fresh clothes for you as well.” Venycia indicated a neat stack on the table beside the bed, and then rose, walking to the window to look out and let him dress.

  Lyan blushed again, and grabbed the tunic at the top. “What about Dalrian? Shiolto, Yion, Aikan? And what happened to Ewart’s men?” He spoke quickly, trying to cover his discomfiture. He admired Venycia’s calm, collected air; if she felt self-conscious, she hid it well.

  “I know all your friends are alive, Lyan, but I’m afraid you’ll have to ask someone else for the details,” Venycia apologized. “I remained here while you slept.” She glanced over her shoulder, then turned to face him again.

  Lyan hadn’t yet pulled on the breeches, but the tunic hung long enough to be nearly decent. Not as decent as he wanted to be, but he tried to keep his composure.

  Venycia continued. “As for Ewart’s men, many of his hired soldiers surrendered on the spot with Ahebban standing over them.”

  “Your father?” Lyan asked tentatively.

  She nodded. “He loved my elven mother, and she him. There wasn’t always animosity between Tather and your people.” Venycia paused, then sighed, turning to look out the window again. “At the heart of the conflict between Ahebban and Soldarr, Lyan, you will find me.”

  Lyan blinked. “But… why?”

  “Ahebban had plans and expectations he assumed I would accept. Soldarr asked—asked, mind you—if I would become a Guardian of Equinox.” She shook her head, making her hair ripple like dark water. “Ahebban… my father… blamed Soldarr for my decision, convinced he somehow deceived me, or forced me to accept.” Venycia’s shoulders drooped. “Nothing I said changed his mind, and I gave up trying. Soldarr continued talking to Ahebban, as stubborn as my father. They argued until both wielded words as sharp as swords, digging up old grievances and inventing new ones. Through the priests and elders, Ahebban and Soldarr stirred their people against each other, until Tather and Eilidh Wood reflected the animosity of their gods.”

  Lyan just stared at her, not quite comprehending.

  She faced him again. “Yes, Lyan. The anger and distrust between your two people is because of me.” Her voice shook. “Because of one choice I made.”

  In those words, Lyan heard guilt, and saw pain in Venycia’s eyes. He crossed the room to her in quick steps and rested his hands on her bare shoulders. “Venycia, it isn’t your fault.”

  She shook her head. “I could have changed my mind. I hadn’t become a Guardian of Equinox when the argument began. But I was just as stubborn and set on my path as they were.”

  “And Ahebban could have accepted your decision rather than trying to force you to do what he wanted. Soldarr could have stopped pushing the matter and let it die away instead of forcing it too far,” Lyan countered. “Venycia, it’s not your fault. Despite generations of anger and everything that’s happened, I’m here, helping Cailean. And Kithr’s starting to think not every Tathren deserves an arrow in the eye. I have Tathrens I call friends, and who call me a friend.”

  “Lyan…”

  He looked into Venycia’s serious brown eyes. The scent of rain and lavender surrounded him. Lyan leaned close, his lips finding hers in a kiss that caught both of them by surprise. Lyan was further surprised when Venycia wrapped her arms around him and returned the kiss, lingering and relaxing against him. All other thoughts fled Lyan’s mind until they separated and stepped back, suddenly awkward.

  “Venycia, I…” Lyan hesitated, unsure what he’d been about to say.

  She rested a finger gently on his lips. “Thank you.”

  “But… I…” I think you’re the most beautiful, amazing woman I’ve ever known.

  “I’ve longed to kiss you since you entered the Shrine of Equinox, Lyan,” Venycia said softly. “When you began the Trials, I wasn’t sure whether I hoped you would succeed and become Spearbearer, or fail and remain at the Shrine. I believed you worthy of Equinox; I couldn’t wish against that. I also knew you wouldn’t be happy being caged.” She smiled, pink flush rising in her cheeks. “Lyan, I’m glad you succeeded and chose to bear Equinox.”

  Something in her voice made Lyan think perhaps she did know, or suspect, that one temptation Equinox had put before him had been to stay at the Shrine, with Venycia, as a Guardian. “Thank you.”

  Thunder crashed, and a gust of wind swept a cold burst of rain over them both, breaking the awkward silence. Lyan laughed in surprise, and Venycia grinned back at him.

  “I’m sorry, Lyan. I should let you finish getting dressed,” she apologized. “Pardon me.”

  Remembering that he still wore only the tunic, Lyan turned bright red as Venycia opened the door and slipped out. As she started to close the door, Lyan heard her exclaim in surprise. “Oh! Kithr, I didn’t hear you come in.”

  “Just got here,” Kithr responded. “Lyan’s awake?”

  “He is, and dressing,” Venycia answered. Then she closed the door. Lyan couldn’t hear any more of their conversation.

  Lyan quickly pulled on stockings and breeches, tugging on his boots. His ankle throbbed, but he pushed aside the discomfort by thinking instead of Venycia’s lips against his. He started from his reverie when the door opened.

  Kithr entered. “Finally awake, I see.” He closed the door and walked to Lyan. “And it’s about damned time you two kissed.”

  Lyan’s head jerked up. He jumped to his feet, cheeks burning. “What?! You…”

  “The pooka told me you were awake and warned me not to come barging in. I figured out the reason when I got here.”

  “You… you…” Lyan sputtered.

  “I could have guessed from one look at you, even if I hadn’t seen anything.” Kithr’s eyes twinkled with amusement. “Your face doesn’t hide much, Lyan.”

  Lyan shook his head in surrender. He couldn’t deny he felt like he was standing on air rather than ground, and if his feelings showed on his face, then so be it. He took a good look at his friend. Kithr wore a heavy leather jerkin emblazoned across the front with Cailean’s house emblem. “You’re wearing Cailean’s colors?”

  “It leaves fewer questions about which side I’m on,” Kithr answered. “Cailean’s men hold the keep now, but they don’t know me.”

  “Is everyone alright?” Lyan asked.

  Kithr smiled. “While we fought the followers of the Mad God, Dalrian got it in his head to act on his own. Rather than wait and rest like any sensible man in his condition, he found his way to the walls. Killed a few guards; managed to get a few more minor injuries. He tore down Ewart’s standard and raised Cailean’s over the keep. You might recall, that was the sign Cailean gave for his men outside the walls to make their move.”

  “Dalrian did?” Lyan remembered how pale and drawn Dalrian had been when they’d left him.

  Kithr nodded. “I didn’t think he had it in him, but that Tathren is tougher than I’d expected, and he used the rest to gather his strength. He’ll need time to heal. Shiolto thinks he’d be all right.” Kithr’s voice held new respect for the Tathrens. “Makes me start to wonder what our real grudge was with them to begin with.”

  Lyan walked to the window and pulled the shutters closed. “Venycia became a Guardian of Equinox instead of joining the Tathren pantheon. That’s what started everything.”

  “What does she have to do with that?” Kithr asked, puzzled.

  “Her mother was an elf. Her father is Ahebban. Ahebban made some plans for her future that were disrupted when Soldarr asked her to become one of the first Guardians of the Spear. Ahebban and Soldarr fought about it.”

  “The da
ughter of a Tathren god followed Soldarr?” Kithr asked dubiously.

  “This was before the gods began feuding,” Lyan said.

  “And they fought over this? Over who was guarding the Spear? When they should have known the need for Guardians?” Kithr continued.

  “Kithr… this was also before Murdo. Before he became the Mad God… before he was even born. There were Spearbearers before him, and there were people who challenged the Trials and failed. Enough to give Murdo an army.”

  Kithr frowned. “Why would any Guardian have helped him fight the gods?”

  “Because they had no choice,” Lyan said quietly, his eyes moving to the Spear leaning against the wall near his bed. “They are bound to obey the Spearbearer—all of them except for those few who became Guardians by choice, like Venycia or Waldros.”

  “Murdo’s Pits! So you could…?”

  Lyan nodded.

  “And you didn’t?” Kithr demanded.

  “I… I didn’t think about it,” Lyan said. He hoped Kithr didn’t see past the lie. I didn’t call on them because they have no choice but to obey. I already have Praett in that position, and Nachyne, to a degree, and I never asked for either. I never asked for slaves. The idea of being bound to another’s whim terrifies me. I can’t bear to think of doing that to someone else.

  Kithr sighed, shaking his head and accepting the given answer. “Come on. I’m sure you want to see your Tathrens.”

  Lyan held out his hand, and Equinox appeared in it from across the room. He nodded to Kithr, who led the way. The doorway opened into a sitting room. Praett lazed in a chair, standing when Lyan entered. Venycia was gone.

  “The Guardian took her leave, master,” Praett said. “I didn’t ask her destination, but she said she’d return when she is able. She gave the impression that might not be as soon as she’d like.”

  My thoughts really are easy to read from my face, it seems. “What about the gods?” Lyan asked.

  “Lord Ahebban departed. My lord wants to speak to you sometime. Lord Toirni simply sent the storm rather than making a physical appearance. The Tathrens seem glad for the rain.” Praett waited for instructions.