Rilmael tapped his fingers against his staff. He looked as solemn as he had when warning Tyrcamber about dangers within his potential future. “You said the Signifier called the menhir a Dwyrstone?”
“Aye,” said Tyrcamber. “He wanted to take Castarium to claim the thing for himself.”
“I know where you went,” said Rilmael.
“Where then?” said Tyrcamber. “Lord Ridmark and Lady Calliande said we were not on Old Earth, but…”
“They were right,” said Rilmael. “You went not to the cradle world of humanity, but to my homeworld.”
“Yours?” said Chilmar, surprised. “I thought the cloak elves were born here, on this world.”
“All the living cloak elves save for a few were born on this world,” said Rilmael. “But fifteen thousand years ago, our ancestors left their homes to escape the dark elves and the urdmordar and journey here, to found new kingdoms and civilizations. Unfortunately, the dark elves followed us, and you know the rest.” He shook his head. “But I recognize the relic you saw, the Dwyrstone. I helped raise them.”
“You did?” said Tyrcamber, astonished.
Rilmael nodded. “Fifteen thousand years ago, the Liberated, the nation you know as the cloak elves of Cathair Kaldran, split away from the high elves. The cloak elves decided to travel here and escape their foes. To reach this world, they built a mighty magical portal they called the Great Eye. The Great Eye was a device of such potency that it had to be contained and controlled. To help channel its power, we raised rings of Dwyrstones around the Great Eye in circles several hundred miles across. Unless I miss my guess, you were at the eastern or western edge of the outer circle of Dwyrstones. Did the men of Andomhaim mention a place called Cathair Cintarr?”
“No,” said Tyrcamber, remembering his conversations with Ridmark and the others. “But…they did mention a city called Cintarra. The Keeper thought that the Dwyrstone had been drawing power from something within Cintarra, or perhaps underneath it.”
“She would have been correct,” said Rilmael. “Probably Cintarra is a human city that was built over the ruins of Cathair Cintarr. The Great Eye would be buried somewhere beneath it. Fortunately, the Great Eye was destroyed after it was closed, but even its remnants have enough magic to empower the Dwyrstones.”
“What threat does this pose to the Empire?” said Chilmar.
“I don’t know,” said Rilmael.
Chilmar snorted. “How helpful.”
“Would you have me lie to you, my lord Duke?” said Rilmael without rancor. “You are not a man to flinch from the truth, no matter how harsh.” Now that was an understatement. “And the truth is that until a new Emperor is elected, you and Prince Everard are effectively the rulers of the Empire, and you require sound counsel. Whatever is happening in this High Kingdom of Andomhaim might be a threat to the Empire, yes. It would not surprise me if the Theophract founded the Drakocenti the way he founded the Dragon Cult, though I don’t know how he managed to travel back and forth between our world and Andomhaim.”
Chilmar’s frown deepened. “Do you think the men of Andomhaim will invade the Empire?”
“Lord Ridmark was an honorable man,” said Tyrcamber.
“No doubt,” said Chilmar, “but kingdoms are not filled with honorable men, are they? Otherwise, there would be no need for kings and laws. We are fighting simultaneously against Merovech, the Fallen Order, and the remnants of the Valedictor’s host. The last thing we need is a fourth enemy.”
“I do not think Andomhaim poses any immediate threat to the Empire,” said Rilmael. “If another gate opens, it is more likely that one of our foes will pass through it to attack Andomhaim.”
“Ah, good news, then,” said Chilmar. “For the Empire, anyway. We have gained a potential ally. The enemy of our enemy is our friend.”
“Both the Fallen Order and the Dragon Cult are our foes, and they are not friendly with each other,” said Tyrcamber.
“And thank God for that,” said Chilmar. He cast an irritated glance at the windows. “But that is a matter for another day. I have to prepare for the wedding.” He leveled a finger at Tyrcamber. “Don’t run off.”
“I will do my duty,” said Tyrcamber.
Chilmar nodded, and for just an instant, his expression almost softened. Almost. “I know you will. And this won’t be as dire as you think. You’ve a soft heart, boy, Dragontiarna or not, so you’ll want to treat the girl gently. Women are like horses. Treat her gently but firmly, and she’ll be loyal.”
Tyrcamber remembered the consistent misery in his mother’s expression and said nothing.
Chilmar strode away, leaving Tyrcamber alone with Rilmael.
“Duke Chilmar has a gift of blunt speech,” said Rilmael.
“I used to have the hardest time tolerating him,” said Tyrcamber. He remembered killing the Guardian dozens of times, maybe hundreds of times, in the Chamber of the Sight. But that had been only a vision. “But now…”
“Now he is one of the few men in the Empire unafraid of you,” said Rilmael, voice quiet, “which is a rare thing.”
“Aye,” said Tyrcamber.
“I must ask a question, Sir Tyrcamber,” said Rilmael. Tyrcamber nodded. “When you were in Andomhaim, did you hear any mention of the Warden of Urd Morlemoch or the five Heralds of Ruin?”
“No,” said Tyrcamber. He had fought the cultists of the Path of the Dragon several times before his transformation, and he had even seen the Theophract and survived, a claim of which few men could boast. But the Dragon Cultists had spoken of a prophecy, claiming that five Heralds of Ruin and the Warden would come, and then all mankind would become dragon gods.
“I see,” said Rilmael. “If I find myself there, I shall have to ask.”
“This Warden,” said Tyrcamber. “If Andomhaim is your home…the Warden’s there, too, isn’t he?”
“Aye,” said Rilmael. “When the cloak elves fled, the Warden stayed to fight. He fortified himself within his citadel of Urd Morlemoch and bound it and himself with mighty wards. The spells were more effective than he had planned. Urd Morlemoch became impregnable, and the Warden himself invincible…but he was trapped within Urd Morlemoch and could never leave.”
Tyrcamber considered that. “Do you think that the Theophract is a servant of the Warden?”
“Almost certainly,” said Rilmael. “These so-called Heralds of Ruin as well. The ultimate mission of the Dragon Cult is to destroy the Frankish Empire and to seize Cathair Kaldran and the door that must never be opened.”
“Isn’t the Warden trapped within Urd Morlemoch?” said Tyrcamber.
“I assume he has found a way around that,” said Rilmael. “I am a powerful wizard, Tyrcamber, both by the standards of the Liberated and of humans. But the Warden is far beyond me. His understanding of magic is both deep and profound. If I had to face him, I do not think I would last more than five minutes. Perhaps Ardrhythain of Cathair Solas is his equal, but only just.”
“Can we warn Lord Ridmark?” said Tyrcamber. “When we parted, he seemed intent on finding the Drakocenti and stopping them. If he knows their mission, he will have all the greater chance of victory.”
“A good thought,” said Rilmael, “but impossible. I don’t know how to reach Andomhaim. I know the theory of how to open a world gate, but I lack the power…and even if I had the power, I wouldn’t know how to target the gate. There are a hundred billion stars in this galaxy, and almost every single one of them has a world that spins around it. I don’t have the slightest idea how to target the gate among such a multitude.”
“It seems clear,” said Tyrcamber, “that both the Drakocenti of Andomhaim and the Dragon Cult of the Empire are creations of the Warden, and their ultimate purpose is to free him, open the wreckage of the Great Eye for him, and allow him to seize that door you guard in Cathair Kaldran.”
“That is my thought,” said Rilmael. He smiled. “You grow in wisdom, Tyrcamber Rigamond. When we first met, you would never have gues
sed the truth.”
“I’m not wise,” said Tyrcamber. “The only difference is that I am more aware of my own folly.” He paused. “What is behind the door that must never be opened? A source of power, I assume, but of what kind?”
“I can’t tell you,” said Rilmael.
“Can’t or won’t?” said Tyrcamber.
“Won’t,” admitted Rilmael, “but the knowledge can harm you. Just as the magic of this world was never intended to be wielded by elves or humans, so is the human mind not designed to handle the knowledge of what is behind that door. The knowledge might not harm you. Or it could enslave you utterly, and you will go mad trying to find your way into Cathair Kaldran and the door.”
“Perhaps it is better that I do not know,” said Tyrcamber.
“See? Wisdom.”
Despite himself, Tyrcamber laughed. “But whatever it is, we can agree that the Warden cannot have it.”
“He must never find it,” said Rilmael. “The consequences for the world of Andomhaim and our own world would be dire…and for countless other worlds as well.”
“Can we do nothing to aid Lord Ridmark and his allies?” said Tyrcamber.
“No, not unless the Dragon Cult or the Drakocenti open more of those rifts and we can pass through,” said Rilmael. “But it sounds if they already have help. The Keeper was wielding the magic of the Well of Cathair Tarlias, and the Shield Knight bore a high elven soulblade. They could only use such weapons with the help of Ardrhythain.”
“They said the soulblades were forged by Ardrhythain,” said Tyrcamber. “You mentioned Ardrhythain to me before. I wish I had thought to ask about the Warden.”
“You were probably distracted,” said Rilmael, “by visiting a new world for the first time.”
“True,” said Tyrcamber. “No sky fire. The damned strangest thing I’ve ever seen.” He paused. “Why are you telling me all this? You didn’t tell my father.”
“Because you have a greater responsibility,” said Rilmael. “His task is to reunify the Empire and enthrone a new Emperor. But you are a Dragontiarna Knight. Your duty is to guard the entire Empire, all of mankind on this world. Your responsibility is heavier than your father’s.” Rilmael looked towards the doors. “Meanwhile, I think you have another responsibility arriving.”
“Aye,” said Tyrcamber. “Ruari Tetrax.” He hesitated. “Can I ask you something?”
“If you will.”
“Were you ever married?”
Rilmael smiled. “For about four thousand years, yes.”
“Four thousand years!” said Tyrcamber. “God and the saints.”
“I was a high elf then, and high elves do not perceive time in the same way as humans or even cloak elves,” said Rilmael. “Alas, it is a difficult sensation to put into words. But I loved her very much. I was a battle mage. She was a healer, and one of profound gifts. A man could be a heartbeat from death, but if my wife was there, she could coax him back to life and health and vigor.”
“How did she die?” said Tyrcamber.
“As so many of the high elves did,” said Rilmael, his silver eyes distant. “She fell fighting the urdmordar. It was grief from that loss, I think, that led me to become a Guardian. My brother Rhodruthain was willing and eager to accept the mantle. I was not…but I fear I had lost all joy and hope when she died, and so I was willing to accept a new duty.” He gazed at the windows. “It was a very long time ago. So long ago that the span of time is ten or fifteen times older than the Latin language itself.”
“I am sorry,” said Tyrcamber.
“Thank you.” Rilmael considered Tyrcamber. “Half of your father’s advice was right. You should be gentle with Lady Ruari. I know of her. She is younger than you, but already she is one of the most powerful wizards in the Empire.”
“Really?” said Tyrcamber.
Rilmael inclined his head. “Her gifts lie with healing. Perhaps from the trauma of the withering plague. There have been several outbreaks of withering plague and other illness in Carnost, and it was Lady Ruari who stopped them. Despite all that, I believe she lives in terror of her mother, a harridan who has a tongue just slightly less cruel than that of a dark elven noble. If you treat her gently and shield her from her mother, I think she will come to love you.”
“Can there be such a thing?” said Tyrcamber. “Love between a lord and a lady?”
“Of course,” said Rilmael. “It is perhaps the most common thing, and the most important. Love for a wife, love for children. It is that upon which human civilizations are built, in the end. Not war, not power, not greed, but love. Did not the Dominus Christus put on human form and die and rise again from his love for mankind?”
“I suppose,” said Tyrcamber, though he didn’t know what that had to do with the fact he was about to marry a stranger.
“You will see,” said Rilmael. “If you survived the Chamber of the Sight, I think you can survive a wedding.”
###
Two hours later, Tyrcamber waited beneath the dome of the church, standing before the dais and the altar.
He had not changed his garments. Tyrcamber supposed he should have put on finery, but he was already wearing the golden armor and white cloak of a Dragontiarna Knight, the crystalline sword Kyathar at his side. No one else in the Empire had such armor.
The great cathedral was mostly empty, but there were a small number of guests - his father, Conrad, and Dagobert. Chilmar and Conrad seemed suitably solemn, while Dagobert looked as if he had just taken a bite out of something foul. Master Ruire of the Order of Embers and Master Grimoald of the Order of Iron were there, along with Master Einhard of the Order of the Third Eye. Lord Nakhrakh and a few of his warriors had come, their hyena-like features alien. Prince Everard Roland attended. The Emperor and all his sons had died in the fighting, but the House of Roland continued among the Emperor’s cousins. Tyrcamber liked Prince Everard. He was about Conrad’s age, but much less arrogant, and had fought with distinction in the battles against the Valedictor. He was the direct heir to the House of Roland, and Chilmar thought he would make a good Emperor. Tyrcamber was inclined to agree, but they had to gather enough of the Dukes to elect a new Emperor first, and the civil war had made that impossible.
Duke Cataul Tetrax stood with his knights, a pleased smile on his face. Next to him waited a squat, elderly woman in a rich gown, jewels glinting on her throat and ears. Her expression was somehow toad-like, and she gazed at Tyrcamber with undisguised dislike. This was likely Brunhilda Tetrax, the dowager duchess and the mother of Cataul and Ruari.
Rilmael attended as well, standing a little apart. A few of the knights cast nervous looks at him.
One of the cathedral’s priests took position on the dais, and Duke Cataul hastened off to escort his sister to the altar. A moment later, Cataul returned, a slender woman in a white gown and veil walking at his side.
For the first time, Tyrcamber found himself looking at the woman he had agreed to marry for the sake of the Empire.
Ruari Tetrax, he was relieved to note, had clearly inherited her looks from her father instead of her mother. She was tall for a woman, only a few inches shorter than Tyrcamber, with long, pale blond hair that had been woven into elaborate braids. Beneath the veil, her eyes were a brilliant shade of blue, so intense that it was almost unsettling. As the rumors had said, there was some scarring on the right side of her jaw and down her slender neck. Given how badly the withering plague could disfigure victims it did not kill, she had gotten off lightly.
As she drew closer, he felt the aura of magical power around her. Most men of the Empire needed to use the Sense spell to detect magical auras. Since Tyrcamber had become a Dragontiarna, he could sense magical auras without trying very hard. A powerful one surrounded Ruari, one of the strongest he had ever sensed. Which was strange, since she was only nineteen. Magical talent grew stronger as a man or a woman aged, but not that strong. Her native talent for magic had to be immense.
Cataul stopped, and Tyrca
mber took Ruari’s hand and bowed over it.
“My lady,” he said.
Her fingers felt icy cold, and her face was utterly blank as she looked at him. But he saw the faint tremor going through her slender shoulders, the vein pulsing in her temple.
She was terrified. Of Tyrcamber specifically, perhaps, or of the situation in general. Chilmar had all but ordered Tyrcamber to marry her, but Tyrcamber could have refused. Yet Ruari would have had no such defense, and her brother and her mother would have commanded her to wed. Tyrcamber suspected a lot of the impetus for that decision came from her mother, who looked at Ruari with barely concealed disdain.
A deep wave of misgiving went through Tyrcamber. This marriage was a serious mistake. He decided to turn to the priest, tell them that he had changed his mind, and leave the cathedral at once. Yet his mind pointed out the consequences. If he did that, Duke Cataul and his mother would take that as an insult. Tyrcamber doubted Cataul would ally with the Fallen Order or Duke Merovech and the Dragon Cult, but he might hold his forces back from the coming battles. That would be disastrous.
Duty. Tyrcamber’s duty was to the Empire.
Besides, his father was right. Tyrcamber did have a soft heart. He might have a silent wife who loathed and feared him, but she would come to no further harm under his protection. Perhaps his father’s suggestion about finding her a manor and servants she could oversee while he went to war was a good one.
“Sir Tyrcamber,” said the priest in sonorous Latin. “Are you ready to proceed?”
“I am,” said Tyrcamber.
“Lady Ruari?” said the priest. “Are you ready to proceed?”
She turned to face the priest, standing up straighter, shoulders drawn back, a firm resolution coming over her face.
Though he still saw the faint tremors in her shoulders.
Ruari gave the priest a single sharp nod.
“Then we shall begin,” said the priest.
They went through the traditional marriage rite in Latin, with some modifications. Tyrcamber said, “I do, and I ask God to help me” at the appropriate places to promise to protect and love Ruari Tetrax as the Dominus Christus loved his church. When the priest came to the parts where Ruari needed to speak, the priest read aloud her responses and asked her to nod if she agreed.
Dragontiarna: Thieves Page 12