The Destined Queen

by Deborah Hale

  Maura looked deep into his eyes and seemed to read what had been in his heart. “You feared I would be killed or…”

  That or seemed so daft now. “It was not you I mistrusted, aira. I just couldn’t imagine another man not falling in love with you.”

  “You are daft, Rath Talward, to think you had anything to fear from Delyon.” She glanced toward Idrygon. “In fact, it was he who betrayed me to his brother, though I doubt he meant to.”

  “Betrayed?” He did not like the sound of that.

  “Highness—” Idrygon dropped into his tone of calm persuasion “—I can explain.”

  “Highness is it, now? A few moments ago it was daft fool. As for explaining, you will get your chance. First I will hear what my wife has to say.”

  She had looked as joyfully dazed by his response to her confession as he had been to hear it. But now her expression darkened. “When Lord Idrygon found out my secret, he threatened to tell you unless I helped convince you to go along with his wishes. Just now, for example, about attacking Aldwood rather than trying to persuade Vang to join us.”

  “I said no such thing!” cried Idrygon. “I swear it by all the ancient prophesies. I would swear it upon the Staff of Velorken itself!”

  Those were solemn oaths, indeed. Rath doubted Idrygon would make them lightly. But why would Maura level such a serious charge if were not so?

  “Perhaps he did not say it in quite those words. But his meaning was clear enough. Remember this morning, when you caught us arguing?”

  “Aye. About that Hanish woman…Songrid.”

  “About this Hanish woman.” Maura tapped her chest with her fingers. “Idrygon said if she cooperated, there would be no need to press the matter further.”

  “That?” Idrygon shook his head. “I fear you misunderstood my meaning, Highness, and read more into my words than was ever intended.”

  “Liar!” Maura lunged toward him, but Rath caught her and held her back. “Your threat was plenty clear enough.”

  “Perhaps it is the way of your people to imagine threats where none exist.”

  “They are not my people!” Maura lifted her gaze to Rath. “You do not believe him, do you, aira?”

  It was one thing to believe, but another to prove. “I only know what I heard. It could be that you mistook Lord Idrygon’s meaning…”

  “I did not!” Maura struggled against Rath’s grasp. “He had said nothing about Songrid before you arrived. I know what he meant, whatever double-bladed words he used to mask his true intent.”

  She might hate him for what he was about to do, but Rath must risk it. “This is too important a matter to decide now when we are all weary and feeling the strain of what lies ahead. Let us sleep on it and ask the Giver’s wisdom. We cannot afford to squander our energy squabbling among ourselves when we are facing the fight of our lives.”

  Some of the tension melted out of Maura as she pondered his words, but she refused to meet his gaze or Idrygon’s.

  “I would rather sleep than quarrel.” She pulled away from Rath and sank onto his bedroll. “Right now, I would rather sleep than do anything.”

  “Wise advice, sire.” Idrygon bowed and backed out to the tent. “I will leave you to your rest. I trust the truth will appear clearer in the morning.”

  Dragging a hand down his face, Rath muttered, “Sometimes the truth must be sacrificed for more important things.”

  “Spoken like a true king, Highness.” Idrygon sounded pleasantly surprised as he disappeared into the night.

  “A true king?” Rath glanced down at Maura. This time she did not look away. “I was afraid of that.”

  In between removing pieces of his armor, he wolfed down the cold supper that had been brought for him earlier. When he had stripped down to a light shirt, he felt Maura’s arms slip around his chest from behind and her head press against his back. “You do believe me, don’t you, aira?”

  “Aye.” He sighed. “But what am I to do? This army is a weapon of Idrygon’s forging. I cannot wield it without him.”

  “I understand.”

  “If all goes well, I promise you Idrygon will be made to answer for his actions once this is over.”

  “And if all does not go well?”

  “Put that from your mind, aira.” Rath twisted around to take her in his arms. “After what I learned from you just now, I feel more hopeful than I ever have.”

  “Indeed, and why is that?”

  “The Oracle of Margyle said my heir would have Hanish blood, which must mean you will bear me a child.” He lowered his hand to rest on her belly. “Are you…yet?”

  Maura replied with a slow, regretful shake of her head.

  Rath refused to be discouraged. “Then that must mean we will both survive to breed our heir.”

  She seemed to savor the notion. “I reckon it must.”

  “And the child would not be much of an heir if it had nothing to inherit, would it?”

  “I…reckon not. Does that mean we should trust in the Giver’s providence?”

  “I know it has asked a good deal of us.” Rath tilted her chin for a kiss. “But it has not let us down yet.”

  “No, it hasn’t. Do you suppose, if we ask nicely, it might show us a way to avoid a battle over Aldwood, without having to fight Lord Idrygon?”

  Rath gave a hopeful shrug. “After tonight, I would not put anything past it.”

  A few hours later Delyon stared at the vial of growth potion in Maura’s hand. “I’m not sure I can do this. If my brother finds out, he will have my head.”

  Rath looked equally doubtful, but Maura was convinced this would be their best chance to secure Aldwood without a bloody battle they could ill afford. The idea had come to her just before she drifted off to sleep—sent by the Giver, perhaps?

  She thrust the vial toward Delyon. “Did you mean what you said? About making amends to me for telling Idrygon the secret you swore to keep?”

  She had warned him the transformation would be painful, but he seemed more worried about incurring Idrygon’s disapproval.

  “I did.” Delyon grimaced as he grabbed the vial and tipped it to his lips. He grimaced even worse when he had swallowed the contents. “Fie, that is foul!”

  “So it is.” Now that he had taken the potion, Maura could let herself feel a twinge of pity for him. “And Rath has had to drink it every morning for weeks. I doubt it will kill you to take it once.”

  “I’m not so sure.” Delyon spoke through gritted teeth as his features clenched in a spasm of pain.

  “It will pass, I promise you.” Rath wrapped his arm around Delyon’s shoulders. “Try to fix your mind on something else. One of your scrolls, perhaps.”

  The anxious set of his features told Maura he would rather swallow the horrible potion himself than watch helpless while someone else took it.

  Delyon’s gaze strayed to the corner of the tent where Songrid had put on Maura’s gown.

  The Hanish woman stared back at him with an anxious expression that bordered on panic. “My people are taught to hide their pain, for it is a sign of weakness.”

  “There is more than one kind of strength,” said Maura.

  Leaving Rath to distract Delyon with murmured words of encouragement, she tried to divert Songrid.

  “Put this on.” She handed the woman her cloak. “And make certain you keep the hood drawn over your hair. Now, do you remember everything else you must do?”

  Songrid nodded as she pulled the cloak around her shoulders and tied it securely. “I must ride near Delyon. We must go where his brother can see us, but not too close. We must make him believe we are you.”

  “That’s right.” Maura gave her an encouraging smile.

  “But what if he comes close?” Poor Songrid! She must wonder if she had traded one kind of trouble for another. “He will be angry if he finds out this trick. Again he may order me killed.”

  “After last night, Idrygon will want to keep his distance.” Was she trying to con
vince Songrid and Delyon, Maura wondered, or herself? If Idrygon discovered their ruse, it would be just like him to take his anger out on the one person least able to defend herself.

  “Do not fear, Songrid,” said Delyon. His voice already sounded deeper and stronger. “I will not let anyone harm you.”

  Is that how it was between these two? Maura stifled a smile. And did either of them realize it yet?

  When the worst of Delyon’s pain had faded and he’d stretched a full foot taller, Rath helped him don the Waiting King’s armor.

  Then he grabbed Maura by the hand. “Now we must ride if your plan is to do any good.”

  They pulled up their hoods and kept their heads down as they left the tent. Rath saddled a swift horse. Then he hoisted Maura up behind him and they headed off toward Aldwood.

  “Do you reckon this will work?” Maura asked when they had ridden well out of sight of the camp.

  Rath nodded. “We will make it work!”

  They rode as hard as they dared for several hours until at last they crested a bit of rising ground and found Aldwood spread before them. Several thin plumes of smoke rose from within the eaves of the ancient forest and a single tower jutted up through the lofty treetops. A chill of old fear slid through Maura as she remembered her previous visit to Aldwood.

  Collecting the last scraps of genow scales she and Delyon had been able to forage from their sashes, Maura cast the invisibility spell upon herself.

  Rath glanced back to make certain he could not see her. “I hope Vang Spear of Heaven will listen to reason.”

  He urged the horse toward Aldwood at an unthreatening pace. When a challenge rang out and several archers rose from behind a row of tall tree stumps aiming arrows at him, he reined to a halt and raised his arms in the air.

  “Does Vang Spear of Heaven still hold this place?” he called.

  Maura gave him a quick embrace, then slipped from the horse’s back.

  “Aye, who else?” came the reply to his question. “Who wants to know?”

  “Rath the Wolf bids you thanks for your answer. I was a guest here in the spring and—”

  “What, the one who fought Turgen, then disappeared?”

  “The very one. Now I come with vital news for your leader. If he is still as canny as he once was, he will listen to me.”

  It seemed Vang was canny enough, for a short time later Rath stood before the bandit chief. Vang looked as menacing as ever with his scarred face and one empty eye socket. But his shaggy mane was thinning and going gray.

  “Ye have gall, Wolf, I’ll say that for ye—showing yer face back here after ye foxed me out of my prisoner and that fine sash. Not to mention lifting a purse and a good nag. Have ye come back to settle yer account after all this time?”

  Rath pondered Vang’s greeting for a moment then pulled a wry face. “I reckon we parted with accounts even between us. Your nag and the coins for mine and our supplies. I did you a favor taking that rascal Turgen down a peg. I knew you would want to reward me, so I saved you the bother by collecting my own prize.”

  The hulking bandit chief leaned back in his great throne, hewn from a tree trunk. He tried to scowl, but one corner of his mouth arched up in a grudging grin. “That gall will land ye in trouble one day, Wolf. What brings ye back to Aldwood? News, I hear?”

  Rath nodded. “News and an offer. The first you would be wise to heed and second you would be wise to accept.”

  “What is your news—that the Waiting King has chased the Han out of the Long Vale? That is an old tale now and of no great interest to me. Why should I care who sits in Venard collecting the taxes? In this little corner of the kingdom, I am lord and collect my own levy in my own way.”

  Rath shook his head and clucked his tongue as if disappointed in Vang’s answer. “Your scouts must be cautious these days, not venturing far from home, or they would have brought you fresher news. The Waiting King’s army is marching toward Aldwood, a few hours on my heels at most. They are many, they are desperate and they are led by a man every bit as ruthless as you. If you try to stand against them, I promise you a slaughter.”

  “A slaughter, is it?” Vang leaped up, shaking his great ham of a fist. “I will give them a slaughter if they come looking for one!” He hesitated, as if struck by a surprise blow from behind. “But what makes them desperate? Why should the Waiting King want a tumbledown castle on the edge of nowhere?”

  “Because two Hanish armies are closing in on his force and this is the nearest spot he can hope to defend.” Rath did not mention the Staff of Velorken. The less Vang knew about that, the better. “I reckon you might stave off the rebels for a while, but it would only leave you and them weakened for that horde of Han…just the way fighting me would have weakened you to fend off a challenge from Turgen. You chose the wise course once, Vang. Choose wisely again.”

  Men like Vang did not survive as long as he had if they showed fear. But Rath had lived this kind of life long enough that he could detect the most subtle signs. Vang was afraid, and a frightened beast could be dangerous when cornered.

  The bandit chief bellowed. When a man came running, he ordered, “Send out three of our fastest riders. One to the north, one northeast and one northwest.”

  “With messages, Chief?”

  Vang shook his head. “To scout. For armies on the march. As soon as they spot anything, they are to ride back at once with news.”

  The messenger headed off to carry out his chief’s order.

  “Haste!” Vang barked after him.

  The man nearly tripped in his hurry to get out of sight.

  “Now…” Vang turned his attention back to Rath. “If it is as you say, why should I throw in my lot with this Waiting King?

  I have done well enough under the Han.”

  “Until now,” said Rath. “But your world is about to change one way or the other and you must decide how best to weather it. We both know the life of an outlaw is for young men. Your hold on power is only as strong as your ability to fight off the next challenge from some tough, ambitious young buck.”

  “I have plenty of good years in me.” Vang flexed his muscles. “And woe to the fool who thinks he can take me down!”

  “Woe to you if the Han put down this rebellion,” said Rath.

  “For they will not rest until every ember of resistance has been crushed under their iron-toed boots. And with the new troops that have been sent to aid them, they will have the power to do it. Do you fancy ending your life in the bowels of the Blood Moon Mountains?”

  Vang gnawed on Rath’s words and appeared to find them tough chewing. “Would I be any better off under this Waiting King? Will he not want to see his kingdom law-abiding and orderly? Would his prison be so much better than their mines?”

  Rath glanced around at the tumbled-down castle. “His prison might well be better than this. And anything would be better than the mines. And who is to say you would be bound for prison? Umbria is a vast land. The Waiting King will need strong, shrewd men to help him rule it all.”

  “What daft talk are you spewing, Wolf?” Vang gave a hoot of scornful laughter. “You reckon the Waiting King is going to make me the lord of Norest?”

  “Who better? Some zikary who has been licking up to the Han all these years, or a strong leader who has resisted Hanish oppression…in his own way?”

  That notion struck Vang dumb for a moment. Rath used the time to hammer home another point. “Especially if that man came to the king’s aid just when he needed it most? Think on it, Vang—in times of peace and order, a shrewd man can cling to power and a comfortable life on his wits alone. Even when the strength of his body fails.”

  The faraway gleam in Vang’s one good eye told Rath he was tempted. But would that temptation prove potent enough to win his help? And would that help be enough to hold off the Han until Maura located the Staff of Velorken?

  She must find the staff and she must find it quickly.

  Maura made her way through the ruins
of Aldwood Castle, trying to avoid drawing attention to her invisible passing. Meanwhile, she sifted through two sets of faint memories in an effort to find her way.

  One was her recollections of Aldwood from her brief captivity in the spring. The other was the old memories passed down to her through a long line of Abrielle’s descendants, of a time when this castle had been new and whole. If she could piece those memories together with what she now saw before her, she might be able to locate the long-hidden staff in time.

  So far, she had not even managed to find her way underground. That burrow of passages, cells and storerooms where she’d once been held prisoner was where she believed the staff must lie hidden. If only she could reach one of the upper parts of the castle she remembered clearly, then she might find her way from there to the lower levels.

  Ahead of her, three men lounged in a narrow doorway talking together in hushed tones. It sounded as though they were speculating about Rath’s sudden arrival and what would come of it. Beyond them, Maura thought she spied a familiar courtyard. She stood for a moment, waiting for the men to disperse, but they did not. Instead, a fourth man arrived with word that Vang had ordered scouts sent out. This prompted still more talk.

  Maura tried another way, but it led nowhere that she remembered and she feared getting lost in the maze of twisting passages and small chambers. So she turned around and headed back. The trio of outlaws had not budged in the meantime and did not look likely to any time soon. Maura could not afford to linger, for the invisibility spell might wear off at any moment.

  Pitching her voice as deep as possible, she growled, “Have you lot nothing better to do than hang about gossiping?”

  The outlaws all jumped and fled in different directions so quickly, the barred doorway seemed to empty by magic. Before any of them had a chance to turn and question where the voice had come from, Maura darted through it and found herself in the courtyard where Rath had fought the outlaw Turgen. From there, she was able to get her bearings and soon found her way underground to the cell where she’d been kept prisoner.