It hurt just to open his eyes, but he did it. The tower of Bo'lantier rose up into the mid-afternoon sky above him, to his right. Mrillis swallowed the groan that filled his throat and choked him. Every fiber of muscle in his body protested, but he got to his feet anyway.
"Blessed Estall, what have we done?" he whispered, and looked around a scene of carnage that made him want to vomit.
Blood streaked the ground. Bodies lay in heaps. Encindi warriors lay in scorched, smoking piles. Rey'kil enchanters lay in small, bloody heaps where enemy swords had cut them down.
The force of the blast that had brought their band of young Rey'kil up from the tunnel had marked the ground, scouring it clean down to the rock. Mrillis swayed, trying to understand the pattern formed by the force that pushed bodies dozens of paces from the tunnel mouth.
"There you are." Kathal stumbled out of the forest, limping on a leg that glistened with blood. He clutched his sword in one fist.
"I thought this place was hidden, so no one could find it!" Mrillis wailed. He didn't care that he sounded like a child one-third his age.
"No one but those who have been shown the way." The warrior gestured for him to come. "It's all right. We managed to drive the main host away." He tried to smile, but only managed a death's head grimace. "Where's the Little Star?"
Mrillis nearly went to his knees when he turned too quickly to search for Ceera. She had just risen to her knees, and she clutched at him, her face white, her mouth pinched with the effort of getting upright. Kathal helped Mrillis support her, leaving the tower behind. They headed into the forest.
"We were betrayed. There was no working of magic, either clean or blood magic, to take down the shield or break through it," the warrior snarled.
"One of us showed the Nameless One where the tower and tunnel were hidden," Ceera whispered. "Mother?"
Kathal didn't answer, didn't try to reassure them, and wouldn't meet their gazes. That was the worst sign of all.
Breylon walked in a slow circle around the inside of a circle of oak trees, weaving a barrier with Threads. It gleamed in the shadows of the forest, to ward away the enemy. Mrillis suspected he had left the barrier visible to comfort the injured protected inside it. The High Scholar faltered when he saw them. The pain that bowed his shoulders gave way to stunned realization, as he visibly understood what they had done. Then pride gleamed in his bruised face and he stood straighter as he watched them hurry through the trees toward him.
"Thank the Estall," he murmured, as the three came through the barrier, which sparked green and purple and stung them.
Ceera moaned and went to her knees. Mrillis reached for her, positive she had overextended herself. Then he saw the blood-soaked figure she gathered into her arms.
"Lady," he choked. "Mother."
Le'esha's robes were slashed, soaked with blood and mud, blackened with char. Her fingers were burned and blackened from the force of the power that had flowed through her. Mrillis knew she had not held back, even at risk to her own body, in the effort to protect those around her. Even in the shadows of the trees, her usually pale face looked like a chalk carving, streaked in blood. Her long white hair hung loose, torn free of the braids and scarves that usually adorned it.
"Mother," Ceera sobbed. "Don't leave us."
Le'esha's eyes opened. The green jewels were fogged as if with a Seeing, but Mrillis knew it wasn't the future she saw. She smiled, the movement faint from weariness.
"My darlings. I saw what you did," she whispered, so softly Mrillis thought he imagined the sound. "Strong. So very strong. Skilled."
"We failed you," Mrillis groaned, and dropped to his knees beside Ceera. The girl shuddered as he wrapped an arm around her. He could barely keep himself upright, but he fought the sick, draining sensation for her sake.
"No." Le'esha's smile widened a little more. "If not for you, we would not have been able to fight at all." A tiny movement caught Mrillis' attention. He saw her try to lift her hand. He caught it up, holding it, shuddering at the icy feel of her flesh. "See?"
"The bracelet I made." Ceera inhaled deeply, rapidly, fighting sobs.
The star-metal had melted from the force of the power that had flowed through it, through Le'esha. It was embedded in her flesh, perhaps even into her bones.
"You made it possible. We defeated our enemies because of the tools you made for us," Breylon said. He sank to his knees at Le'esha's other side and caught up her hand. "More than half of us are unharmed, other than burns and bruises. More than three-quarters of us live. Only those who stood closest to the tunnel were hurt at all, in the first wave of the attack."
Mrillis nodded, imagining clearly how it must have been. Le'esha had shared the focal point with Breylon and walked with him, hand-in-hand, toward the shimmering, solid-seeming curtain of power that blocked the entrance to the tunnel. Encindi soldiers had appeared as if out of nowhere, sliding through the protective curtain around the meadow as if leaping from darkness into light. They had cut down those closest to the tunnel mouth and began to work their way through the column of enchanters who had joined together to dismantle the magic barrier.
"Someone among us is a traitor," Mrillis whispered. He raised Le'esha's hand to his cheek. "Mother--" He choked. How many chances had he missed to address her as his mother, to tell her he loved her?
"We will find the traitor," Ceera said, her voice thick with the sobs she held prisoner.
"Yes, you will," Le'esha said, her voice like a fading breeze. "But do not promise me revenge, my dears. Promise me instead that you will be happy and you will love and you will work for peace."
"Anything," Mrillis said. "Just don't leave us."
"I have never lied...never lied to you...my dears." Her eyes slipped closed and it seemed that the hand he held lost some of its substance.
"Mother." Ceera bowed her head, so her forehead touched Le'esha's unsullied shoulder.
"I have always loved you, as if you were of my own flesh and not just my heart."
In later years, Mrillis could never be quite sure that she had spoken with her voice or her fading spirit. He only knew that he heard the echoes for decades afterward when he felt most discouraged and in need of strength and had nothing inside himself to let him continue on.
The three sat there, ignoring the sounds of people recovering from the attack, the breeze rippling through the leaves overhead, the harsh sound of their own breathing. He held Le'esha's hand, feeling the chill soak into his own flesh. Her bones seemed to grow as frail and light as bird bones.
"Go gladly to the Estall, my dear friend," Breylon said, his voice cracking with pain as it shattered the silence.
"No." Ceera shuddered. She raised her head and wiped tears from her eyes with her fist. "No. She can't. I won't let her."
"You are Queen of Snows now, Little Star," Breylon said, "but you should learn from the beginning that some things are beyond even your great power."
Mrillis drew Ceera close as she shuddered and went limp, as if Breylon's words were a blow. Nausea twisted through him as understanding and grief stabbed him like two sharp knives.
Le'esha was gone. Ceera was Queen of Snows.
Ceera wept silently, shuddering until Mrillis thought she would shake her bones out of her flesh. He held her through the long afternoon and longer night. The tears never stopped until she finally fell asleep at the first light of dawn.
* * * *
Mrillis and Ceera turned their talents to healing the wounded, and turned the tower of Bo'lantier into a healers hall. The last dead body was removed by mourning family members the same day the painful, frustrating news came from the Rey'kil headquarters on Moerta.
Someone had also attacked the Rey'kil enchanters on Moerta at the same time the Encindi attacked at Bo'lantier. All the star-metal jewelry Ceera had made had been stolen. Four strong enchanters and six scholars were dead, along with half the soldiers who guarded them. Among them was Candon.
Mrillis watched Ceera when s
he received the news. She said nothing, but her eyes seemed to be burned into her head for days afterwards, and he saw a few silver tears trickle down her cheeks long after he thought she had wept herself dry.
Mrillis prayed that Ceera hadn't been pushed so far and bruised so deeply by grief that she would never recover. She was Queen of Snows. Lygroes and the Stronghold needed her. The Rey'kil needed her. The World needed her.
He wished he could tell her that he needed her, but it sickened him to contemplate how selfish that would be. Their feelings for each other would have to wait, once again, until this crisis passed.
If it ever did.
Chapter Twenty-Three
"Why won't he go away?" Ceera whispered. "Do I have to ward the guarding magic against him, to get any peace?"
"Who?" Mrillis turned away from the long, narrow window of the guard tower at the top of the Stronghold.
The tower stood at a strategic spot that looked out over the Northern Sea as well as down into the long chain of canyons that protected the Lake of Ice and the Mist Gates. Ceera sat in the wider window looking down on the canyons, wrapped in her cloak, with a pillow behind her back and a cushion under her. Sometimes Mrillis suspected she didn't really notice all the tiny comforts he arranged for her. She would never have eaten if he didn't put a plate before her and a spoon in her hand, or wrap her fingers around a cup. She would have come up to the tower today with him in just her indoor dress and never would have felt the chilly fall winds that ripped across the cliffs.
"Who?" he asked again, and stepped up to the window to look down past her.
A familiar red-haired figure sat astride one of the creamy golden horses the Warhawk had given to Mrillis and Endor several seasons ago. Endor had returned to the Stronghold and waited now at the entrance to the passage leading down to the Lake of Ice.
"Endor is pestering you?"
"If only he would be nasty. That, I could handle," she said in the same low, sleepy-mournful tones she had used since they had brought Le'esha's body back to the Stronghold and consigned her to flames and the Estall's Bliss.
"He's worried about you. Just like I am." He went down on one knee and braced himself with his arms framing her, on either side of the window opening.
"No, not just like you." Ceera finally turned away from the window. Her silver eyes were dark with the pain and loss she couldn't shake free of, and the hollows of her cheeks had grown more pronounced. "I like it when you worry about me. You and I have always been together, and we will always be together. If you had not been here, I would have followed our Lady... And I know it's wrong. I promised her I would be strong and take care of our people just as she did. She chose me because she trusted me. She thought I was wise and clever and strong and I am so weak!"
"You're not weak." Mrillis wrapped his arms around her and drew her off the cushioned ledge to perch on his knee. "You're wounded. It takes time to heal. There's no shame in resting until you've healed."
"I take so much from you. How can you have a chance to grieve when your whole life is spent strengthening me?"
"I like worrying about you," he said, offering up a smile as he threw her words back at her. To his delight, Ceera managed a trembling smile. "And if I wasn't here, Endor would gladly be your adoring slave."
"He adores me." She shuddered, and her throat worked as if she would be sick again. "He would gladly lie down on the ground and let me walk all over him with battle boots full of spikes, just to prove his heart. But his kind of love...it devours. It's like that plant he found so amusing in the coastal forests on Moerta, remember?"
Mrillis nodded, remembering clearly. The plant was a dull, dirty cream color, a cluster of limp vines with a bulbous growth on the end of each long, thorn-encrusted whip. Some bulbs were large enough to enclose small dogs. Though the plant looked half-dead, if an animal sat still within its reach more than ten seconds, the vine curled around it and pricked it with thorns. The thorns held a poison that made animals drowsy and numbed their limbs so they couldn't flee. Then, the bulb fell open, like a sliced fruit falling into sections, and engulfed the unfortunate victim. The dull coloring changed to the colors of the living thing trapped inside. The bulb then took on the shape of the creature inside it.
Until the struggles stopped.
Eventually, over several days, the bulb returned to its natural coloring, and its shape deflated and smoothed out, and the vine returned to its former limp state, waiting for another victim to engulf and digest.
"What I can't understand," Ceera said, "is why he's such a good friend all the rest of the time. How can he be so thoughtful, so funny and clever and loyal? But when it comes to pretty words and courtship, he turns into someone different. Someone repulsive and frightening."
"You don't have to be afraid of anyone any longer," Mrillis said. "You're the Queen of Snows."
"I'm a weakling." Two small spots of color rested in the hollows of her cheeks. That bit of temper encouraged him.
"You're in mourning. Everyone understands that. If you had taken up your duties and filled our Lady's chair immediately, people would say you had no heart. Or that you were all ambition and couldn't wait for her to die."
"Who would say that?" She struggled in his embrace, but he held her tighter.
"Idiots who don't realize how much you loved her. How much we both loved her. She was our mother, and she will always be our mother. Understand?" He shook her gently, like he used to do when she was little and being stubborn about something that was simple common sense.
To his relief, Ceera nodded and managed a tiny flicker of a smile. Then she startled him by wrapping her one arm around his neck and snuggling down with her head on his shoulder.
"What would I ever do without you, my own Mrillis? You can't ever leave me, you know. Never. My first order, as Queen of Snows. You can't ever leave my side. Your whole duty is to watch over me and protect me."
"And make sure you eat your vegetables and get enough sleep and put your shoes-- Ouch!" He laughed, though his ribs stung where she had pinched him through his shirt and vest. "I do need to return to my duties teaching Athrar."
"Bring him here. I like having him around. He's a good boy."
"He will be flattered. I'm sure the Warhawk and Lyon both will be delighted."
"The Stronghold will be very important someday, to the Warhawk. Something very precious, vital to the throne and the safety of our world will be hidden here." Her voice dropped to a whisper and she sat up straight, so abruptly her head connected with his chin. Ceera stared into the distance, beyond the stone walls of the watchtower.
"The Maiden Warhawk will come here, when no male is permitted into the Stronghold. She will take the future from the hands of the Queen of Snows. That which has been lost will be found. That which was hidden will be seen." A tiny sob escaped her and she relaxed against his shoulder again. "And the love you thought was lost will be yours." She shuddered.
"Ceera?"
"I...." She sighed. "I think I had a Seeing. What did I say? No--don't tell me." She lay her fingertips against his lips, stopping him from answering. Mrillis was hard pressed to decide whether to kiss or bite them. "Let's go down to our Lady's...no, to my office, and you will write down what you heard. It's time to begin the first records of my reign as Queen of Snows. Fitting that my first Seeing deals with the Stronghold."
She slid off Mrillis' knee and took a few tottering steps. By the time she reached the doorway and the stairs, her step was steady and her shoulders were straight. Mrillis wished he had listened to his longings and kissed her.
* * * *
Rey'kil came back through the tunnel from Moerta all winter. Word came slowly to the Stronghold of the slow exit from the western continent, as if the people of Lygroes were ashamed to admit to the new Queen of Snows that they had abandoned their pledge to purify the Noveni lands. Mrillis knew Ceera was hurt by the fact that Athrar brought her a letter from the Warhawk, listing the numbers who had returned, the names, and the
territories they had abandoned. Not so much hurt, he knew, by the existence of the letter, but by the fact that Breylon had known what was happening and hadn't told her.
"I am young, yes," she said, when she and Mrillis had gone down the tunnel to Wynystrys and obtained a private meeting with the High Scholar in his quarters. "I don't expect you to consult me or even ask my advice, but I didn't think you would leave me in ignorance."
"My dear...child." Breylon offered an apologetic smile. "Blame my wish to spare you more grief. When I first heard the news, my initial thought was how distressed Le'esha would be. I think some of your anger is also because you think of her reaction, yes?"
Ceera blushed a little, nodded, and finally sank down into the chair Mrillis had pulled out from the table for her.
"We cannot invoke Le'esha's name to force our people to remain in Moerta," the elderly man continued. "It is because of Le'esha that they leave."
"Punishment," Mrillis whispered, sensing the explanation before it was fully clear in his mind.
"Exactly."
"I don't understand." Ceera turned and frowned up at him. He leaned against her chair with his arm resting along the high, flat top.
"They're abandoning their work on Moerta to punish the Noveni for our Lady's death." Mrillis watched Breylon as he spoke. The High Scholar nodded and closed his eyes, wincing in renewed grief.
"The general feeling throughout Lygroes, and especially among the Rey'kil who worked on Moerta, is that it was the Noveni demand that we remove all star-metal which made us vulnerable, brought on the Encindi attack and led to Le'esha's death."
"I blame them, too," she admitted in a small voice.
"I am ashamed to admit, I felt some satisfaction, myself," Breylon said. He finally opened his eyes again. "If she were here, she would be furious with me."
"If she were here," Mrillis couldn't resist saying, "we wouldn't be facing this problem." He could barely keep the snarl from his voice as he spilled some of the festering anger that he had swallowed for weeks. "I do blame them. Fiora was right. Most Noveni, especially their nobles, think the Rey'kil were put here by the Estall to serve them. No matter what comforts and luxuries we offer them, they want more. It wasn't enough that we gave them back leagues of their land every year--they wanted the star-metal completely gone. We never would have opened the tunnel--we never would have risked Ceera's life or yours or our Lady's or anyone else's, if not for Noveni arrogance."
ZYGRADON Page 22