Kingmaker's Sword (Rune Blades of Celi)

by Ann Marston

  I reached up and plucked a leaf from a heavily laden branch. The pale underside had a vaguely furry texture against the pads of my fingers. “I’m going away for a while after I rest,” I said. “I want you to stay here until I get back.”

  Her eyes narrowed. “You want me to—” She bounced to her feet, fists landing on her hips. “Now you wait one moment there, Kian dav Leydon. You want me to stay here while you go haring off somewhere taking that sword with you?”

  “I’m going to go after the General,” I said. “It will be dangerous—”

  She rolled her eyes and raised both hands, fingers spread, in exasperated supplication to the gods. “He’s going to go after the General,” she said to no one in particular. “All the seven gods and goddesses save me from imbecilic Tyrs.” One finger came out to jab me in the chest. “If you think for one moment you’re going off on a ridiculous crusade like that, and leaving me here, you’ve certainly managed to addle your brain completely, my friend.”

  “Kerri—”

  The fists were back firmly on her hips, her jaw thrust out aggressively. “Don’t you Kerri me, you overgrown lout,” she cried. “You are not going off without me, and that’s flat.”

  “Sheyala, this could be dangerous.”

  “Dangerous?” she repeated. She laughed incredulously and rolled her eyes again. “Dangerous? Now what in the world would possible make you think going after the General could be dangerous? Kian dav Leydon ti’Cullin, you are an idiot! A complete and utter fool. A dim-witted—”

  “Hellas-birthing,” I muttered. I wanted to grab her by the arms and shake her until her teeth rattled and her eyes crossed, and I shook some sense into her. Instead, I planted my hands on my own hips and leaned forward, placing my face inches from hers. “Kerridwen al Jorddyn,” I shouted, “for once in your life, will you shut up and listen for a change?”

  She stepped back, stiff with indignation and outrage. “Don’t you dare shout at me,” she cried. “And what about the prince? What about Kyffen’s grandson?”

  “When I get back, you’ll have your prince,” I told her.

  “And what if you managed to get yourself killed?” she cried. “What then, you barbaric moron?”

  “Then Medroch will show—”

  “Medroch? Medroch?” She waved her hands furiously. “I need you and that sword to show me.”

  “Tcha-a-a-a.” I turned away. I wanted to strangle her. Well, no, not exactly. Spank her, mayhap. Tie her up and deliver her to Gwynna for safekeeping. She would most certainly meet her match in my foster-mother.

  Kerri grabbed my arm and spun me back to face her. “Give me one good reason why I should stay here,” she shouted. “One good reason why I shouldn’t go with you. And don’t tell me because it’s dangerous. I said a good reason, not some stupid male idea of protecting a helpless female.”

  I did grab her this time, my hands gripping her shoulders. I very nearly lifted her off her feet as I dragged her closer to me. “I’ll give you a reason,” I roared. “Because my soul lies cupped in the palm of your hand, Kerridwen al Jorddyn.”

  It was a ridiculously drastic measure, but it shut her up instantly. It was not what I had meant to say, but once said, I couldn’t unsay it. And besides, I realized it was true. Kerri blinked once, then her eyes grew wide and startled. “What?”

  I took a deep breath. “Kerridwen al Jorddyn, my soul lies cupped within the palm of your hand,” I told her, much more quietly and calmly this time.

  She stared at me. “This is absurd,” she said faintly.

  “It is,” I agreed. “Highly absurd, but true.”

  I watched in fascination as a faint flush of pink began to rise in her, first in the part of her chest exposed by the low neck of her gown, then up along her slender throat, then finally, into her cheeks. She blinked again, and took a deep breath.

  “Kian dav Leydon ti’Cullin,” she said softly, “your soul is sheltered safe within my hands and my heart.”

  My hands still gripped tightly to her shoulders. She was going to have a fine set of ten small matched bruises there soon. I let go of her shoulders and caught her around the waist instead, pulling her against me as I bent my head to kiss her. We were both breathless when I finally let her go and stepped away.

  “I’m going to rest now,” I said. “We’ll talk later.” I began to walk to the house.

  “Kian?” she called. “Kian, why does the General want you dead? He can’t take your magic if he kills you without all that horrid ceremony.”

  I turned. “We’ll talk later,” I said again.

  “Yes,” she agreed. “We will most certainly talk later.”

  ***

  We said our betrothal vows and became duly handfasted in the Great Hall that afternoon in the presence of Medroch and the rest of the family. The next morning, demure as a new bride, Kerri kissed me good bye at the head of the broad steps leading from the Great Hall to the courtyard. But it didn’t surprise me in the least when the black mare came tearing up behind me half an hour later and fell into step with the sorrel. Kerri gave me one sharp, fierce, challenging look, daring me to try to send her back. I merely smiled and shook my head in resignation.

  “What about your prince?” I asked.

  She smiled. “Not all bheancoran marry their prince,” she said.

  “This one won’t,” I said firmly.

  XXX

  I awoke just as the moon rose above the crags. Kerri slept with her forehead nestled into the hollow of my throat, her breath stirring warmly against my skin. Gently, careful not to waken her, I slipped out of the bedroll and went quietly to the far side of our small fire, the polished disk of silver I used as a shaving mirror in my hand. I sat on a fallen log, thinking hard.

  Magic. Celae magic. Tyadda magic. Gentle magic. How did one go about invoking it? The masking spell Kerri had shown me, giving a rock the semblance of a sleeping cat, had looked simple enough. It hadn’t looked as if it cost her a great deal of effort. We were going to need foolproof disguises if we were going to enter Maedun and track down the General. The masking spell seemed a plausible answer.

  Ground and centre. As I settled myself, I again became aware of the lines of power in the ground beneath me, in the air around me. Like the silver threads of rivers in a valley seen from the peak of a crag. I reached out, found I could trail my fingers through them the same way I could trail them in the water of a stream. I drew on the power and envisioned myself with hair black as midnight, eyes only a shade or two paler.

  I felt nothing. No shiver of rising hair on the nape of my neck or arms. Not even the slightest ripple of nausea. I lifted the polished disk and peered into it. I still looked like me. It hadn’t worked.

  How difficult could this be? I vaguely remembered working small magics under my mother’s tutelage when I was very young. If I remembered it aright, I had simply grasped the power in the eddies around me, and done it then. This spell should be child’s play. Why was it not working?

  I reached out into the stream of power again, and concentrated. When I lifted the mirror to look, nothing had changed. It was not a Maeduni face I stared at. Merely my own.

  Disappointed, I got to my feet to return to the bed...

  ...And found Kerri standing by the pile of bracken, sword in hand, ready to take off my head.

  I barely managed to duck under the savage curve of her swing, flinging myself to the ground and rolling desperately away. I sprang to my feet, ready to dodge again as she spun, sword ready for another swipe.

  “Sheyala,” I cried. “Don’t. It’s me.” I let go of the thread of power I still held. Kerri staggered with the effort of stopping the swing of the sword in mid-motion. She let her arms fall limply to her side, sword still grasped in both hands, and stared at me.

  “Kian?”

  I stepped forward and took the sword gently from her. “I didn’t think it had worked,” I said. “I’m sorry.”

  “I saw a Maeduni,” she said blankly. “I swear
I saw a Maeduni soldier. That was you?”

  “I tried to work a masking spell,” I said. “I thought it hadn’t worked. I saw no change when I looked in the mirror.”

  I had frightened her badly. Twice. Her reaction was to ignite like a pine torch. “You imbecile,” she cried. “Don’t you know anything? Of course you didn’t see any change. You were inside the stupid spell. What did you think—” She broke off abruptly. She shot a glance at my sword still lying on the ground beside the bedroll, then looked at me again, her eyes narrowed suspiciously. “You were trying a masking spell?”

  “Well, we need some disguise if we’re going to go bounding around Maedun tracking down the General,” I said.

  She brought up her finger and shook it under my nose. “Don’t you go trying to sidetrack me that way, you asinine barbarian idiot,” she said in a dangerous voice. “You were working magic? You?”

  I sighed. “Aye,” I said. “Me.”

  “Celae magic?”

  “Ye might say so.”

  She stood there for a moment, seething and fizzing with barely suppressed fury. I expected her to explode about my ears like a batch of chestnuts in a fire. Instead, she made a visible effort to take herself in hand, and looked up at me, eyes narrowed.

  “You had best explain yourself, Kian dav Leydon,” she said quietly. “And quickly.”

  “I expect I’d best had,” I agreed.

  I led her back to the bedroll and sat down. She hesitated for a moment, then sat beside me. It took a while, but I told her what had happened nearly a fortnight ago when I stood vigil with Cullin, and what I had seen in the crystal the next morning. She listened without interrupting. When I finished, she said nothing. For a moment, she just sat there, staring at the fire. Finally, still without a word, she got up and walked into the shadows of the trees around us.

  She was gone a long time. When she finally came back, I was sitting cross-legged on the bedroll with a warmed up cup of tea. She sat beside me, drew her knees up and wrapped her arms around them.

  “You didn’t know until then?” she said softly.

  “No.”

  She glanced at me. “Do you remember her at all now?”

  “A little. More every day, it seems. And him, too.”

  “Why didn’t you tell me before this?”

  “I was going to, sheyala. But somehow, the time never seemed right.”

  “I should box your ears,” she said with patient resignation.

  “Quite probably.”

  Unexpectedly, she laughed. “This bheancoran looks likely to end up marrying her prince after all,” she said.

  “No, sheyala,” I said. “Not if you plan on marrying me.”

  She jerked as if I had hit her. “You won’t come to Celi?” she asked, dismay and shock clear in her voice. “But—”

  I shook my head. “I didna say I would not go to Celi,” I said. “I merely said I would not be a prince.”

  She eeled around so that she knelt in front of me. “But you’re Kyffen’s grandson,” she said, her face troubled. “You have to be his heir.”

  I shook my head again. “No, I don’t have to be his heir,” I said. “Kerri, I’ve no training to be a prince. At the time when princes are learning the art of governing men, I was cleaning out stables. While a prince’s heir is learning diplomacy and proper manners, I was living half-wild in slave quarters. I’ve no talent for it, nor do I have the inclination.”

  “But—”

  “Sheyala, Skai isn’t my country. Celi isn’t my country. They aren’t home. Tyra is home. I can’t think of myself as being Celae, or even yrSkai. I’m a Tyr. I’ll always be a Tyr. You can’t have a Tyr as Prince of Skai. It wouldna be right.”

  “But you are Celae, though,” she said. “Through your mother.”

  “But I’ve never known Celi, nor Skai either.” I looked away for a moment. “Cullin could have done it,” I said. “All that flaming nobility of his was ingrained so deeply into him, it was more than just a part of him. He could have been a prince. I can’t.”

  “I’ve seen you act like that, too, Kian. It’s part of you, too.”

  I shook my head. “No, sheyala. With me, it was always just an act. A part I played. Like a cloak I put on when I needed it.”

  “But—”

  I reached out and put a finger over her lips to silence her. “If I have to, I’ll stand regent for the heir,” I said. “I think I can do that much. There is another heir, remember.”

  She settled back onto her heels, biting her lip thoughtfully. “Keylan,” she said at last.

  “Keylan,” I agreed. “And he’s young enough to be properly trained in all he has to know.” I grinned at her. “That’s why I wanted you to stay at the Clanhold while I tracked down the General. Even if I didn’t come back, you’d have your princeling. Medroch would have told you.”

  She glared at me. “You really are an idiot,” she said. “Do you think I would have let you go alone anyway? Kian dav Leydon, you have a skull thicker than two short planks, and you’re only slightly brighter...”

  I hooked my hand behind her head and pulled her forward to kiss her. It shut her up immediately. It was a technique I would have to remember for future use.

  Kerri drew back after a moment and smiled sweetly at me. “And don’t start thinking this is changing my mind,” she said softly. “You are still a thickheaded dolt at times, and I consider it my bound duty to inform you of that fact as needed.”

  I met her gaze levelly. “This bond,” I said at last. “Does it allow you to read my mind, too?”

  “Men are not difficult to read,” she said. “And you especially.” She put her hand behind my head. “Now. Where were we?”

  ***

  Three days later, we stood on the high flank of a mountain, looking out over the vast plain of Maedun. Below us, the mountains ended as suddenly as if a blow from Gerieg’s Hammer had fractured the bones of the range of crags and spread them flat like bacon drippings on bread. I had only twice been in Maedun, and neither journey had been pleasant. A suspicious and unfriendly lot, the Maeduni, when it came to strangers.

  Kerri raised a hand to brush back a stray wisp of hair from her eyes. “It even looks darker out there,” she said quietly. “Jeriad told me there were no more than ten families in all Maedun who had sorcerous ability. Not really that many.”

  “More than enough,” I said, “if they’re all like the General.”

  She shuddered. “I wonder if they all know how to steal another’s magic.”

  “I would think not,” I said. “I can’t see the General sharing that secret with anyone else. He wants all the power for himself.”

  “He must be quite mad,” she said slowly. “He frightens me, Kian. He frightens me more than anything else I’ve ever encountered in my life.”

  Rhuidh nudged me in the back and I reached behind me to shove his nose away, then realized he was nowhere near me. He stood beside Kerri’s mare, contentedly cropping grass several metres upslope. Another distinct nudge, pushing me a step or two south. I put my hand up to the hilt of the sword.

  “Now what do you want?” I muttered irritably.

  Kerri looked at me, surprised. “What?”

  “Not you,” I said. “This stupid sword.”

  “The sword?”

  I drew the sword and held it in front of me. An aura of volatile colour flashed and flared around the blade and the distinct harp and bell notes sang in the air around me, nearly visible in their crystal clarity. The vibration travelled quickly into my hands, up my arms into my chest. Slowly, gently, the sword drew me around.

  South. It pulled me south.

  I made an irritated noise and tried to turn east again. But the sword was implacable. It wanted to go south.

  “Confound you,” I muttered. “You ridiculous, ill-crafted, miserable chunk of tin. Why can’t you make up your mind?”

  “What is it?” Kerri watched the sword in fascination. “What does it want?”


  “It wants to go south now,” I said, exasperated. “It kicked up such a fuss about going east, and now we’re going east, this ridiculous, misbegotten slice of misery wants to go south. South!”

  “Kian—”

  “Tcha-a-a-a.” I slammed the sword back into its sheath.

  “Kian, perhaps the sword knows where the General is better than we do. Perhaps it’s showing us where to find him.”

  I looked at her blankly.

  “It led us northeast before,” she said. “Maybe it knows we have to eliminate the threat he poses before we can go home.”

  I thought about it for a moment, then nodded. “It could be,” I said slowly. “Northeast toward the General before. It certainly wasn’t trying to tell us Kyffen’s grandson was that way. It knew, even if I didn’t, who I was.”

  “He told you Cullin and you set him back half a life time,” she said. “Perhaps we have to set him back a full lifetime in order to give Celi time to prepare, to settle the Saesnesi problem and become strong enough to resist a Maeduni invasion.”

  The sword kicked again, strongly enough to make me stumble forward a few paces. South again.

  I reached up and gripped the hilt. “Stop it,” I snarled. Then to Kerri: “We go south then.” I grinned. “That way, I might not have to frighten you by turning into a Maeduni soldier again.”

  She glared at me. “You made a terrible Maeduni soldier,” she said disdainfully. “You’re far too clumsy.”

  I smiled beatifically at her. We had argued long and loud before I managed to convince her she had to put on the semblance of a man if the disguise were to work at all. Women in Maedun never carry swords. Any woman caught carrying a man’s weapon was immediately executed. The Maeduni regard their women as being good for only two things—bedding and breeding. I cited the example of how little the death of his wife had affected the General, who was, in essence, the quintessential Maeduni soldier. Kerri finally agreed reluctantly with me. It was the first argument I had ever won against her.

  “Not nearly so terrible as you,” I said mildly. “You walked funny.”

  “I walked funny?” she repeated indignantly.