by Deborah Hale
“Time to get up, aira.” She let her lips whisper over his cheek and ear as she called softly to him. “We have a busy day ahead of us.”
“I’m afraid to open my eyes.” Beneath the blanket, his hands roved over her body. “In case it turns out you’re not really here, and last night was all a dream.”
“Oh, I am here.” Her lips sought his. “See if this convinces you.”
She kissed him long and deeply, until her heart raced, her breath trembled and her head spun. Rath rewarded her effort by opening his eyes. He pretended astonishment to find her presence in his arms more than a dream.
He cast a resentful glance toward the entrance flap of his tent. “As sure as a cold winter, if I try to have my way with you now, Idrygon will show up demanding to see me.”
No sooner had he muttered those words than the guard on duty called, “My Lord Idrygon wishes to speak with you, Highness.”
“What did I tell you?” Rath whispered to Maura.
She choked back a bubble of laughter. “You weren’t trying to have your way with me, though.”
“No, but I wanted to.” Rath flashed her a wry grin then raised his voice. “Let him enter.”
Idrygon strode in, and started at the sight of Rath and Maura still lying together on the bedroll. “Your pardon, Highness. I thought you must be up and dressed by now.”
He looked so flustered, Maura had to hide her face in Rath’s shoulder to smother a fit of giggles.
“We were just about to rise for the day,” Rath lied. “Now, what is so urgent that you needed to call on us at this hour?”
“Everything is urgent, Highness, as you must realize. It is imperative we make all haste to Aldwood. I reckon it will take us three days at a good hard march. With luck that will be time enough to—”
Before Idrygon could finish, sounds of a disturbance erupted outside the tent. Maura thought she recognized Delyon’s voice.
“But my brother is in there and I must speak with him now!”
“I have my orders.”
“Let him come!” cried Rath. To Maura he muttered, “We will end up with the whole camp in here, by and by.”
Delyon stormed in, nearly bumping into his brother. He, too, started at the sight of Rath and Maura.
“Can this not wait?” snapped Idrygon. “I have important matters to discuss with the king!”
“More important than a life?” Delyon grabbed his brother by the arm. “How could you order her execution? Without Songrid, Maura and I might still be prisoners of the Han—dead even. And you would know nothing of the danger bearing down on you!”
“Songrid?” Maura sat up and reached for one of Rath’s robes to cover herself.
“The Hanish woman is clearly a spy.” Idrygon shook off his brother’s grasp. “She used you to infiltrate our forces.”
“Rubbish!” cried Delyon.
Maura had never heard him talk back to his brother that way. Had he forgotten how bitterly he’d mistrusted Songrid at first?
A glare from Idrygon cowed him a bit, for he continued in a less hostile tone. “The woman had no way of knowing who we were, I tell you. She helped us escape from that guard post and brought us through the mountains. Maura and I owe her our lives.”
“Why would she turn her back on her own people,” growled Idrygon, “to aid their enemies?”
While the brothers were too busy arguing to pay any heed, Rath and Maura slipped into robes. Then she surged to her feet and joined the fray on Songrid’s behalf.
“Umbrians are not the only ones who have tasted Hanish oppression.” She stood beside Delyon, facing his brother. “Besides, we promised to vouch for her and insure her safety. Put Songrid under guard if you feel she poses a threat, but do not kill her on account of your suspicions!”
Idrygon looked from his brother to Maura. The flesh above his lip trembled, as if he was struggling not to sneer at them both. Then he turned to Rath. “What do you say, Highness? Remember the slaughter we found at that mine? The Han showed those men no mercy. Why should we show any to one of them?”
What slaughter at what mine? Maura wondered as she watched Rath’s expression turn grim.
“Please,” she begged him. “I gave my word. Not all Han are bad any more than all Umbrians are good!”
Idrygon hammered his hand with his fist. “The woman is a threat, I tell you!”
“Enough!” Rath jammed his hands over his ears and glared at all three of them.
When they fell into shocked silence, he muttered, “That’s better. Now, will someone explain to me what you are arguing about. Some Hanish woman, I gather.”
When Idrygon opened his mouth, Rath pointed at Maura. “Let my wife speak first.”
Fearing what might happen to Songrid while they argued over her fate, Maura explained the situation as quickly as she could. She wished she could be certain of Rath’s decision. Only last night they had promised to support one another. But his frown deepened as she told him about the Hanish woman, and in his eyes she glimpsed a flicker of fear.
How could he believe they had anything to fear from one poor woman who was likely frightened out of her wits by now?
“If you could see what I saw in Venard,” said Maura, “you would not doubt her. The most privileged women of the Han are as much oppressed in their way as any Umbrian except those who toil in the mines and the pleasure houses. They are little more than brood sows, and treated no better! If I had been in Songrid’s place, I hope I would have had the courage to do what she did.”
When Rath did not look properly sympathetic, Delyon added, “We should reward the woman, not kill her!”
“Idrygon,” said Rath at last, “you believe this Hanish woman poses a threat?”
“Is it not evident, sire? No Han would act as this woman has, unless it was a plot of some kind. She probably means to reckon our numbers and eavesdrop on our plans, then sneak back to her own people with the information.”
“Just as I did in Venard,” said Maura.
That took Idrygon aback for a moment, then he nodded. “And if the Han had caught you, you would have counted yourself blessed to suffer a quick execution.”
Maura could not dispute that. But neither could she betray the woman who had risked so much for her and Delyon.
“We are not Han.” Rath’s brow furrowed, as though he rued the decision he had felt compelled to reach. “You said that, Maura, remember, at Blen and Tesha’s farm?”
She nodded. Having just mended the earlier breach between them, what would she do if Rath now made a decision she could not live with?
“We are not Han,” he repeated, more to himself than to the others. “And we must not become Han.”
“Of course not, Highness.” Idrygon looked confident of winning his way, as usual. “We will drive those wicked unbelievers from our shores and wipe every foul trace of them from our land!”
Maura flinched as if he had struck her. What would Rath say if he knew she was a “foul trace” of the hated enemy?
“That is my hope, too.” Rath kneaded his whisker-stubbled chin with one hand. “But what if, in our zeal to drive out the Han, we become the very thing we hate?”
A look of uncertainty flickered on Idrygon’s face, but only for a moment. “Surely there is no danger of us becoming like them, Highness.”
“There is more danger than you know.” Rath shook his head slowly. “And if that is the price of victory, it may be too costly to bear.”
“But what has this to do with the woman, Highness?”
“Everything.” Suddenly Rath looked more sure of himself than Maura had seen him in a long time. “If the Han would show no mercy, then we must. I place this woman under royal protection.”
Delyon and Maura each expelled a sigh of relief.
“Sire,” cried Idrygon, “this is madness!”
“Watch yourself.” Rath fixed him with a cold, level stare. “I know and value all you have done to bring us this far. But let us not forget who i
s king. Assign the woman a trustworthy guard to protect her from harm and to make certain she does not run off bearing tales. Mercy need not be foolhardy.”
“Thank you, Highness!” Delyon made a deep bow. “I will make your orders in this matter known at once.”
Idrygon shot his brother a glare of barely contained rage, then stalked from the tent after him. He did not spare either a look or word for Rath and Maura, perhaps fearing he might stray further into treason.
“Well done, aira!” Maura threw her arms around Rath’s neck. “You spoke like a true king!”
“I hope I have made the right decision.” He did not look fully convinced of it. “If this Songrid runs off to the Echtroi with information, I may have the shortest reign of any Umbrian king…not that I would find it a hardship to give up the crown.”
“You can see for yourself.” Maura bent to retrieve her clothes. “I can bring Songrid here to tell you her story. Once you have spoken with her, I know you will agree that—”
“No!” Rath strode to the opposite corner of the tent and knelt before a wondrously carved chest, which he opened. “There is no need for me to speak with her. If you vouch for her, that is enough to satisfy me.”
“As you wish.” Maura shivered as she slipped out of Rath’s warm bulky robe that carried a comforting whiff of his scent.
His abruptness left her vaguely chilled, too. There must be more to his refusal to meet Songrid that he let on—but what?
From the chest, Rath took a cloth pouch like the kind Maura had used to store herbs and other magical matter in the peaceful days when she’d been nothing more than a wizard’s apprentice.
The sight of it gave her an idea. “Aira, may I ask one more favor of you?”
“You may ask me anything.” Rath measured a small quantity of fine dark powder from the bag into a flask. “Whether I can grant it is another matter, though I will try.”
He called to the tent guard for hot water. This must be a morning ritual, for a small flagon was shoved in through the tent flap at once, wisps of steam rising from it. Rath scooped it up and poured some water into the vial.
“What will happen today?” asked Maura as she wriggled into her shift and gown. “Your men will march toward Aldwood?”
“Aye.” Rath shook up the potion. “Today and tomorrow and the day after. And hope the Han do not catch us before we reach Aldwood. Why?”
“I was thinking…” Maura slung her sash over her shoulder.
“I can do nothing about finding the Staff of Velorken until you have gained entrance to Aldwood Castle, one way or another.”
“True.” Rath softly chanted the growth spell then raised the vial to his lips and drained it in one great swig. “Pah, but that is vile stuff! I keep hoping I will grow used to the taste and not mind it so much. But I swear it gets worse every day.”
“Must you still take it?” Forgetting her request, Maura flew to his side. “You have rallied the mainlanders as Idrygon wanted. I fear what effect it may have on you to drink such a potion so often.”
“I’ll be rid of it soon, one way or another.” Rath’s rugged features contorted in pain. “Idrygon says this is no time for the people to lose faith in me.”
“Are you ill, aira?” With trembling fingers, Maura reached up to wipe away the fine drops of sweat that sprang out on his brow. “Was there something wrong with the potion?”
He gave a hoarse chuckle through clenched teeth. “Nothing that hasn’t been wrong with it all along. Perhaps you had better go until it is finished working.”
“I will not!” A spasm of shame writhed through her. “Was the potion doing this to you even before we left the Islands?”
His eyes squeezed shut and every muscle clenched tight to contain the pain, Rath jerked his head in a nod.
No wonder he’d been so ill tempered!
“Why did you not tell me, you great lalump?” she demanded, though she knew the answer.
He hadn’t wanted to worry her, of course, over something she could not help. Perhaps he had not wanted to let her see him in a moment of weakness.
She grabbed the flagon of hot water. “Let me make you a brew to ease the pain, at least.”
Rath shook his head. He’d sprouted almost a foot taller and had filled out until his robe strained at the seams.
“Any other potion,” he gasped out the words, “would hinder…the power…of this one.”
Maura cursed under her breath, torn between wanting to cradle this huge, fierce-looking man in her arms and a fierce urge to cram a dose of the bitter potion down Lord Idrygon’s throat. Let him taste the agony he had forced upon Rath every day for weeks on end!
“There,” grunted Rath at last. “The worst is over.” He leaned forward, legs bent under the weight of his enlarged frame. “What was it you wanted again? Something about Aldwood?”
It took Maura a moment to collect herself after what she had just witnessed. “Oh, yes. I was thinking, I would be no help to you today, and Windleford is so nearby. With a swift horse, I could make a quick visit to Sorsha, then return by nightfall. Windleford is not still held by the Han, is it?”
“No.” Rath lumbered over to the bedroll, sank down upon it and began pulling on his oversize clothes and armor. “Our scouts report the garrison pulled out several days ago, heading for the coast. We did not know what to make of it at the time, now it seems clear they’ve gone to meet up with the fleet from Dun Derhan.”
Maura opened her mouth to take back her request. She had just returned to Rath after a long, difficult separation. How could she leave him again so soon? In spite of his great size and power, it was clear he needed her as much as ever.
Before she could speak, Rath glanced up at her, his jaw still tensed from the pain. “I think it’s a fine idea for you to visit Sorsha! I only wish I could go with you. Once this is all over, perhaps?”
“I will wait until we can go together and celebrate the liberation with Sorsha and Newlyn.” Maura tried to sound certain of victory.
“Go now,” said Rath. “A day’s march is tiresome. It would do me good to think of you visiting with Sorsha, rather than plodding along on horseback, shepherding the army eastward.”
The prospect did not sound very appealing, especially as the weather had grown cool. “Are you sure you don’t mind?”
“Mind?” He gave a scoffing chuckle. “I insist you go, but on two conditions.”
Maura moved toward him and wrapped her arms around his neck from behind, resting her chin on the crown of his head. “What might those be?”
“That you take a good escort with you, in case any stray Han are lingering in the area.”
“Agreed.” Though she had overcome the worst of her timidity since the night she’d left Windleford, she would never be reckless. “What else?”
Rath reached up to caress her face, his massive hand awkward yet strangely tender. “That you be back to me by the time this potion wears off tonight.”
“Pity the fool who tries to stop me!”
A while later, Maura emerged from Rath’s tent and began making her way through the ranks. “Your pardon. I’m looking for a man called Anulf. I have an assignment for him from the king.”
Before she could locate anyone who knew this Anulf fellow, Maura caught sight of Idrygon marching about giving orders. When he noticed her, she expected him to glare or scowl. But he strode toward her with a look of such good humor she wondered what had come over him. Once his temper cooled, had he realized he’d been too harsh and hasty in dealing with Songrid?
“Highness.” He bowed. “A private word with you if I may?”
“Gladly, my lord. There is a matter I would like to bring to your attention.” Perhaps Idrygon did not know the painful price Rath paid for taking the growth potion. He had successfully hidden it from her, after all.
She and Idrygon made their way to a spot where they would not be overheard by the men breaking camp.
Conscious of how precious time was to them
all, Maura wasted none in sharing her concern about Rath and the growth potion. She was careful not to lay blame on Idrygon for the situation, assuming it would come as much of a shock to him as it had to her.
But his face betrayed no hint of surprise. “The pain passes, Highness, with no lasting damage. A small price, surely, for what it has gained us?”
“A small price?” cried Maura. Idrygon was lucky she did not have a weapon in her hand. “Perhaps if you were the one to pay it, you would think differently.”
“Do you think I have not made sacrifices for our cause?” demanded Idrygon. “None of this would have been possible with out the preparations I made over the years.” His voice fell to a menacing hiss. “Yet all the credit goes to some unlettered outlaw posing as a legend! What is a few moments’ discomfort a day compared with that?”
“Discomfort? Why, you vainglorious—” By a massive effort of will, Maura turned to walk away before she said things that would cause a breach the Umbrian alliance could ill afford.
She had barely taken a step when Idrygon caught her roughly by the arm. “You are a fine one to sling insults, Highness.” The scorn in his voice cut like a switch. “I had hoped your coming might make your husband more tractable.”
“If by that you mean I persuade him to abdicate leadership of our forces to you—” Maura jerked her arm free of his grasp “—you could not be more mistaken.”
“Spoken like the spawn of a death-mage and a traitor!” Though Idrygon lowered his voice in a vicious whisper, his damning words thundered in Maura’s ears.
The accusation wrapped around her throat and squeezed hard. And when she was certain it could not get any worse, she heard Rath’s voice, coming closer with each word. “Maura, Idrygon, what is the trouble between you?”
20
A s she watched Rath bearing down on her and Idrygon, Maura felt as if someone had shoved her over the edge of Raynor’s Rift.
“What’s all this about?” Rath wrapped one of his huge arms around Maura’s shoulders and glared at Idrygon. “If you want to challenge my decision about the Hanish woman, take it up with me. I won’t stand for you badgering my wife. Do you mark me?”