by Deborah Hale
“All you went through, Sorsha!” He pulled his vest from her fierce grip. “It was you who hid me from the Han, kept me alive and gave me a reason to live. You brought me to Windleford and found a way for me to stay here. I’ve done nothing but run and hide since I stumbled out of that cursed mine. Now I need to stand up and fight.”
Maura swung the griddle away from the fire and tiptoed out of the kitchen.
Not long after, Sorsha called everyone to supper, apologizing for the burnt sausages. Her eyes were still red and her voice sounded hoarse, but she had an air of peace about her.
When her boys demanded more stories from Anulf, she announced with a convincing pretense of enthusiasm, “Papa’s going to go away with Master Anulf and Auntie Maura for a little while. I reckon he’ll come back with stories to keep you entertained for a long time.”
“Can I come with you, Papa?” asked Bard.
“Me, too!” Lael pounded on the table with his spoon.
“Next time.” Newlyn winked at his sons.
Maura hoped there would be no next time like this in their lives.
“For now,” said Newlyn, “I need you to help look after Hoghill and take care of Mam and Vela.”
Bard looked disappointed, but replied with a grave nod. Lael followed his brother’s example, though he looked a bit puzzled by what his father had said.
After supper, Newlyn went into the village to hire someone to tend the farm in his absence.
“I’m sorry.” Maura watched as Sorsha packed a few supplies for her husband. “If I’d known this would happen, I never would have come today.”
“Don’t be daft. It was good to see you, and this business with Newlyn isn’t your fault. It’s just something he has to do. I reckon you understand that better than I do.”
Maura nodded.
“He’s been such a good husband. I couldn’t have asked for better. It’s as if the simplest meal I cook for him is always a feast and the most ordinary day a blessing.”
“I reckon that’s how the Giver would like us all to live,” said Maura. If more folk treasured the simple blessings of freedom once they had been won, then perhaps the dark years of oppression might have served some purpose, after all.
Sorsha dropped Newlyn’s pack on the table and caught Maura’s hand in a tight squeeze. “Find that Staff of Velorken quick as you can, to drive the Han away without too much bloodshed.”
Newlyn’s full weight seemed to settle on Maura’s shoulders. “I will, Sorsha.”
She must. With so many lives at stake, try would not be good enough.
“Any sign of them yet?” Rath tried to keep the edge of alarm from his voice.
“Not since the last time you asked, sire.” The young Vestan soldier had no better luck concealing his impatience. “I promise I’ll let Her Highness in the moment she arrives. Should I order a few men to go looking for her party?”
“No.” Rath did not refuse the offer quite as quickly as he had the last two times. “I’m sure they’ll be along soon.”
If they weren’t, he might ride out to look for them.
Hearing footsteps and the murmur of voices from outside, he leaped up and opened his arms to receive his wife. “Thank the Giver you’re back. I was beginning to wor—”
He started when Idrygon stalked into the tent instead.
“Back? I didn’t go anywhere.” Idrygon looked around. “Where is Her Highness?”
“She’ll be here any moment.” Rath swung away.
“Where did she go?” Idrygon’s tone suggested he not only had a right to know, but should have been informed of her going in the first place.
“Just for a quick visit to her old home in Windleford. There was nothing she could do on the march today. I made certain she had a reliable escort.”
“How could you have let her go?” cried Idrygon. “We need her to find the staff!”
Rath spun about. He had chafed under Idrygon’s tyranny for too many weeks. Swallowed too many orders he didn’t agree with for the sake of a cause he’d been reluctant to lead in the first place. “If that precious staff of yours is there to be found, she will find it! And you know as well as I do, the Han have retreated from the Windle.”
“The Han are not the only danger to be feared. What sort of lawlessness have they left behind?”
The question caught Rath like a surprise blow. In his eagerness to prove he had changed and would not hold Maura too tight, had he let her take too great a risk?
“I would not send my wife into danger! I told you, she took an able escort—several men I would trust with my life. And you are a fine one to talk. You sent her off into the heart of Hanish territory with only that feckless brother of yours for protection! It is a wonder he didn’t get her killed or captured a dozen times over.”
“Do not speak ill of my brother!” Idrygon’s fists clenched at his sides, and he took a threatening step toward Rath. “Delyon returned safely from Westborne, with your wife and word of where to find the staff. Not to mention vital information about how the Han mean to press their attack against us.”
“Information Maura gathered!” Rath shook his forefinger under Idrygon’s nose. “She was the one who delivered him safely from Westborne, not the other way around. In the company of a few capable men, she could probably cut a swath through the High Governor’s army.”
Idrygon spun about on his heel. “I will send out a search party.”
“You will not!” Rath grabbed him by the sleeve. “Maura said she would return tonight and she will. I do not want her thinking I doubted her.”
“Keep your hands off me!” Idrygon batted away Rath’s hold on him. “Fie, but I am sick of having to keep you in line!”
“No more than I am sick of being kept in line by you!” Rath drew back his fist, ready to strike a blow that would make Idrygon’s ears ring.
“Stop!” The urgency of Maura’s voice stayed his hand. “What is going on here?”
Relief at seeing her safe made Rath forget his quarrel with Idrygon. “Aira!” He caught her in his arms and lifted her off her feet. “What kept you?”
Before she could answer, Idrygon spoke, his tone as overbearing and scornful as ever. “And what possessed you to sneak off like that in the first place?”
“She didn’t sneak anywhere.” Rath lowered her to the floor again, remembering some unfinished business. “She asked permission from me, her husband and her king. I agreed it would do her good to enjoy a day’s peace with her friend after all she has been through these past weeks.”
Ignoring Rath’s quarrelsome tone, Idrygon directed his gaze and words at Maura instead. “I expected better of you. Think what might have happened if you’d run into a Hanish patrol. You wouldn’t have wanted that…would you?”
Idrygon was in for it now! Rath stood back and crossed his arms, waiting for Maura to bite his head off.
But she did not. Instead, she hung her head and answered meekly. “You are right, my lord. I entreat your pardon.”
“What are you saying, aira?” Rath wondered if his hearing had gone bad. “You cannot mean that.”
“I do mean it.” She turned to him with a look more troubled than this whole matter warranted. “With so much hanging in the balance, I should not have risked going to Windleford. I wanted so badly to see Sorsha again I did not think through what could have happened.”
That made sense, though Rath did not want to make her feel worse, and he grudged admitting Idrygon might be right. “But nothing did happen. You saw Sorsha. You got back here a little late, but safe. You didn’t meet up with any Han.”
“No. We saw no Han.” Maura’s glance flitted sidelong to Idrygon. In the flickering light of a single lantern her face looked pale.
Had something happened that she did not want to confess in Idrygon’s presence?
She must confess the truth to Rath, Maura’s conscience urged her as she lay awake beside him that night.
Both Sorsha and Delyon had claimed her paren
tage did not change who she was. Of course, Delyon had wasted no time sharing her sworn secret with his brother, so how far could she trust his word?
Besides, neither Sorsha nor Delyon had suffered as much from the Han as Rath had. Remembering his look of aversion when she’d mentioned introducing him to Songrid, Maura sensed his feelings for her could not help but be poisoned when he learned her true identity. The by-blow of a death-mage and an Umbrian traitor.
She fell into a fitful doze with those ugly words slithering in her mind. They spawned disturbing dreams in which she found herself back at Beastmount Mine, wearing the dark robes and mask of a death-mage and wielding a lethal gem wand. She felt herself being seduced by the tempting lure of power, unable to resist.
The din of horns and drums jolted her awake.
“By Bror!” Rath sat up and dragged a hand over his face. “Morning already?”
Idrygon strode into the tent.
“Do you mean to make a habit of this?” snapped Rath.
“Save your outrage! Make ready at once. We have just received word that the fleet from Dun Derhan has landed and the first of their troops are on the move. We must reach Aldwood and take up our position while there is still time.”
“Curse them!” Rath was on his feet beginning to dress before Idrygon finished speaking. “Can we spare some men to divert them or slow them down?”
Their hostilities of the past evening forgotten, the two men quickly thrashed out a plan, which Idrygon marched off to set in motion. Once he had gone, Maura rose and began to dress.
When she saw Rath throw open the chest and take out the ingredients of the growth potion, she flew to his side. “Must you do this, aira? I heard how Anulf and the others spoke of your part in the mine uprising. You do not need these kinds of tricks to be a great leader.”
She tapped her fingers against his chest. “It is in you—here. Not your size or the loudness of your voice that inspires people to follow you.”
Part of him wanted to heed her, Maura could tell. He hesitated for a moment, perhaps remembering the pain that had not eased because it had become familiar.
Then he shook his head. “If we are to have any hope of defeating the Han, we will need every advantage we can muster on our side, however small. Now is not the time to shake the faith of our followers with a truth they are not ready to hear.”
Maura winced in anticipation of the pain that would soon rack him. A pain she would be powerless to relieve.
“Don’t fret, now.” He pressed a kiss to her brow. “I will not have to do this much longer. Off you go. I’ll come find you when it’s over.”
“You will not!” Maura clung to him. “If you have the fortitude to bear this, I will not run away and leave you to suffer it alone because I am too much a coward to watch.”
“Very well.” He mixed the potion. “I do not have time to argue with you, aira.”
Rath’s transformation wrenched her heart as fiercely as it wrenched his body. But she held him and caressed him, crooning every foolish endearment she would summon that might provide the tiniest scrap of comfort.
Once he had recovered, he gathered her in a brief, gentle embrace. “Thank you for staying, aira. It helped me remember why I am doing this.”
“I just wish you did not have to,” muttered Maura, still not convinced it was necessary.
As she helped Rath don his armor, they ate hurriedly from a tray of food that had been brought. Then they mounted their horses and rode out to rally their forces.
“Let every rider take a second man pillion!” Maura ordered. She sought out Songrid to ride with her as an example.
Word quickly spread through the ranks of the approaching Hanish force. The pace of the marchers satisfied even Idrygon, who sent a handpicked unit of Vestan archers off to slow the Hanish advance with strategic ambushes.
The rebels covered a good deal of ground that day. Not even stopping to eat or drink, the men took food while they marched from the wagons that moved through the ranks distributing bread, cheese and strips of dried spiced meat.
Even after the sun had set in fiery splendor behind the Blood Moon Mountains, Idrygon insisted they keep marching at least another hour before he let them stop and make camp. By the time Rath’s tent had been erected and he took refuge inside for what was left of the night, Maura could see his armor hung upon his shrinking frame.
When she and Songrid dismounted, she heard Delyon call out to the Hanish woman. “There you are! I was beginning to worry when I couldn’t find you.”
He shrank back when Maura turned on him with a blistering glare. “I—I have been keeping guard on her.”
“Have you, indeed?” Maura dropped her voice to a harsh whisper. “I hope you are better at it than you are at guarding your tongue! How could you, Delyon?”
“I’m sorry, Maura! I didn’t mean to say anything, but when Idrygon ordered Songrid executed, I said something I shouldn’t in the heat of the moment. There never was a secret my brother couldn’t worm out of me if he tried. I still do not understand why it matters so much.”
She had neither the time nor the energy to make him understand. The way he looked at Songrid, Maura suspected it would be a wasted effort. “I know you did not mean me harm, Delyon, but you have done me harm all the same.”
A while later, she trudged into Rath’s tent, eager to throw herself onto the bedroll and sleep. She barely stifled a groan when she found Idrygon already there engaged in a heated argument with Rath.
“Do the two of you do this every night?” She yawned. “Sorsha tells me her boys quarrel when they are tired. Why not wait and talk in the morning when you are in a better temper?”
“Perhaps you are right.” Idrygon did not look tired as he turned to answer her. “A decent rest might make your pigheaded husband better able to see sense.”
“I could sleep as long as King Elzaban,” snapped Rath, “and it still would not change my mind. We have enough blood on our hands already. I will not fight our countrymen. There has to be another way!”
They must be talking about Aldwood, Maura realized, and how to deal with Vang.
“Countrymen?” Idrygon sneered. “They are nothing but common outlaws! Who cares whether they live or die?”
“The Giver cares.” Rath’s voice rang with certainty. “And so should we. I was a common outlaw, don’t forget. I will ride ahead tomorrow and hold talks with Vang. I’m sure I can convince him to join with us. That will strengthen our numbers to fight the Han and spare any more damage to the old castle.”
Maura slipped past Idrygon to stand beside Rath. Twining her fingers in his, she gave his hand a squeeze. She had never been prouder of him! He had truly learned to use his wits and his heart to solve problems instead of always relying on force. And he had made a good case for his decision, on grounds that should make sense even to a man like Idrygon. Now surely the argument would end and they could all get some sleep.
“Out of the question.” Idrygon dashed her hopes. “You know this Vang creature, do you, from your outlaw days?”
“Aye. He is a hard man, but no fool. I had thought the same of you. Now I wonder. What harm can there be in sparing bloodshed?”
Idrygon paid no heed to Rath’s insult. “If you hold talks with this brigand, you would surely be recognized and your identity exposed. We cannot afford that now.”
He shifted his gaze to Maura. “Talk some sense into your husband, Highness.”
She knew an order…and a threat when she heard one.
“Perhaps Lord Idrygon has a point, Rath.” She could not bring herself to meet his gaze as she spoke.
“What point, aira? That it is a good idea to slaughter anyone who gets in our way?”
“No. Just that we do not have much time and…” She reminded herself how the bandit chief and his men had taken her hostage and what worse things they might have done if Rath had not rescued her. It was foolish weakness to risk her happiness on their account.
Weakness? The n
otion seethed in her mind. It was Hanish thinking to regard justice and compassion as a sign of weakness. If she believed that, then perhaps she was one of them, after all—deserving of Rath’s suspicion and contempt.
“Aira, what is it?”
“There’s something I should have told you…” She braced herself for the aversion she would see in his eyes when she finished speaking. “While I was in Venard I discovered…”
“Careful, Highness,” warned Idrygon, but she refused to heed him.
“…that my father was Hanish. A death-mage.”
“A what?” Rath’s hand fell slack in hers.
Though Maura ached to take back her confession, her throat felt as if a noose had been loosened from around it.
22
H anish—Maura?
Rath wondered if someone had blown a puff of madfern in his face. Or perhaps he was just so exhausted he was hearing things. What would make Maura blurt out something so unbelievable?
“H-how can that be?”
“Remember I told you about that chamber I discovered under the palace—the one with the crystal?” Maura’s voice sounded so tight and plaintive. “What I didn’t tell you was that a death-mage was there, as well, just when my invisibility was wearing off. When he saw me, he called me by my mother’s name.”
She choked out the rest of the story. Only after she had finished did Rath realize she’d been speaking in Hanish.
“Aira!” He began to laugh and couldn’t stop. “This is the best news I have heard in weeks!”
He grabbed Maura about the waist and swung her around so hard, he almost knocked over one of the tent poles.
“Good news?” cried Idrygon. “Have you lost your wits?”
“Good news, indeed!” Rath set Maura on her feet and clung to her as his head spun.
It was a pleasant kind of dizziness, though. His hunger and weariness faded. Even Idrygon, for some of his wrongheaded ideas, didn’t seem such a bad fellow suddenly.
“This makes everything all right, aira.” He cradled her face in his hands, stroking her cheek with one thumb. “You see, the Oracle of Margyle told me my heir would have Hanish blood. I thought that meant I would lose you, one way or another. That’s why I was so set against your going to Westborne…with Delyon.”