Fate Defied: The Silent Tempest, Book 3

by E. J. Godwin

  “I never want to hear you say that name again.”

  “You mean Hend—”

  “Yes!” she snapped, cutting him off. Then she frowned and squeezed his arm in apology.

  “I’ll do my best,” he said. “But it would be easier if I knew why.”

  “Don’t be too sure of that. I always suspected a few things about Ada’s past—little discrepancies that would end my career if I brought them to light. Never this.”

  “You’re a little dazed, that’s all. Give yourself time.”

  “You weren’t there. You didn’t see what I did.”

  “Well, if it’s that important, shouldn’t you tell your people?”

  An eruption of bitterness fueled her limbs, and she jumped to her feet. She circled the fire, kicking dirt to quench the flames, then stood fast as the smoldering mix fought for survival.

  “How can they believe what they refuse to hear?” she muttered.

  Tenlar rose, keeping a discreet distance. “Can you at least tell me?”

  She shot a quick glare at him. “You think you’re any different?”

  “Don’t you?”

  “I don’t know. I don’t know what to believe anymore.” He stepped closer, but she held out her hand to stop him, and turned away.

  “If it’s so terrible, just blurt it out! Otherwise it’ll keep eating at you.”

  Telai clasped her hair as if to tear the words out of her head. She had spent all her life seeking the truth, digging further and further into the past. Not once had she ever questioned the wisdom of it.

  “Telai, what’s wrong?”

  She lowered her arms and faced him. “Our traditions and beliefs, even the oldest of our legends—they’re nothing but a lie, Tenlar.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “Heradnora! She fell from the sky in a ship, just like Caleb and Warren. She was jealous of the people chosen to live here.”

  “Chosen? What do you mean? Chosen by whom?”

  “Who do you think?” she cried. “Rennor and Ksoreda and all the rest. They’re our ancestors!”

  It took him a minute to answer. “That’s impossible. Heradnora is the worst evil—”

  She shook her head, silencing him. “Only because of the Lor’yentré, Tenlar.”

  He stepped forward again, a gesture of appeasement. “I’m just a soldier, Telai. The only thing I know is my duty to Ada. As long as we hold on to that, what does it matter where we came from?”

  “You don’t understand! All my life I’ve worked so hard to discover the secret of Ada’s past.” She spread her hands to either side. “I finally got what I wanted—and it’s turned everything I know into a big filthy lie!”

  The last word echoed and died. She wrapped her arms tight, fighting an ache in her gut as real as any illness could inflict. The days and the months rolled back to the wind-swept grass of central Ada, where she had first met Caleb. Now she knew what it must have been like for him: a stranger uprooted from everything he had ever known.

  “I don’t know what to say,” said Tenlar. “I’ll probably never fully understand what you just saw, let alone be of much help. But can you trust me enough to let me try?”

  “How can you possibly help me with this?”

  “By telling you something I should have told you years ago—about why I took the Oath like I did.”

  “Why are you bringing that up? There’s no mystery. You couldn’t convince my mother I should join the Raéni, so you flew off in a rage to honor your precious duty.”

  “It wasn’t rage—quite the opposite, in fact.”

  “I won’t play any more of your games, Tenlar. Spit it out!”

  He held his hands out in appeasement. “Garda wasn’t the only one I talked to. I went to Loremaster Acallor, too. He said you were the most gifted student he’d ever known.”

  “Well, I’m sure that’s a nice thing for him to say, but what does this—”

  “Please, Telai. He told me you had an uncanny ability to see things from a completely new perspective. He said you’d probably be Grand Loremaster someday—if you put your mind to it.”

  Telai parted her lips, speechless for a moment. “Acallor said that?”

  “He made me swear not to tell you. You were only sixteen, after all,” he added with a wink.

  “Are you saying—”

  “I could see it happening—the way you kept looking at him like you didn’t want to hurt his feelings.” He shrugged, an expression of regret more than helplessness. “I couldn’t let you throw something like that away. Nor could I refuse to take the Oath and place a burden of guilt on you, let alone myself. So I just—well—gave things a little push.”

  For a long minute she wrestled with his words, navigating a bewildering mix of fury, reluctant admiration, and wounded pride. “After all these years, you let me believe—” she breathed, then tightened her hands into fists. “Curse you, Tenlar! Why didn’t you tell me?”

  A wistful smile softened the regret in his eyes. “I was afraid you’d take it the wrong way—like I was manipulating you or something.”

  Her arm twitched with the urge to slap him. “Well, guess what, Master Raén? You were! And you’re still at it!”

  Tenlar reached for her hands, but she pulled away. “Telai … if you want to hate me, then so be it. I’ll pay that price.”

  “Price? Ah, yes. A noble sacrifice for the good of Ada. You’re just like all the others—on and on about their precious duty. But it’s always their definition of the word, not mine.”

  “Maybe you’re right. Maybe they are too blind to see, or too afraid. But Acallor was right, too.”

  “Now you’re coddling me!”

  His face hardened. “Stop it, Telai! Lower your shield for once, and listen.” He paused, but she gave no hint one way or the other. “I don’t think that old man has an intuitive bone in his body. I know I don’t. But I saw something in his eyes that day of the council. Now I know it in my heart: you were meant to go on this quest.”

  “You’re talking nonsense, Tenlar.”

  “Am I? Perhaps I manipulated you a little last night. But you were the one who took the plunge, not me. You had the courage to open your mind to the truth.” He shook his head. “If that doesn’t qualify you to be the Grand Loremaster, then nothing does.”

  His words, drilled home by an unmistakable tone of sincerity, stopped her cold. All this time she had been railing against those who tried to shackle her with the chains of duty, when in truth it was herself she feared the most. For she was the Grand Loremaster of Ada—not just in name but deep down to her bones, impossible to deny.

  Tenlar smiled—another quirky, mischievous grin that charmed its way past her anger. “Getting pretty good at this, aren’t I?”

  Telai gritted her teeth. “Damn you!”

  “Again? Anyway, let me make up for it. You take the lead today. After all, it’s time I shut up and let the Grand Loremaster do her duty.” He cringed at Telai’s widening stare. “Um … maybe I shouldn’t use that word anymore, either.”

  She walked to her sled, lifting her hood to hide a reluctant smile.

  ♦

  The light was nearly full now, and they started off, winding their way through the mist-filled corridors between the trees. The sense of watchfulness never faded. Telai, strangely drawn by forces she did not understand, was so sure of the correct route that she changed course without a word, veering sharply to the northwest.

  The sun arced overhead, at first sending rare shafts of light to the forest floor, until it vanished altogether. The trees soared ever higher. Inch by inch their girth expanded, foot by foot their height increased, until Telai began to doubt her own eyes. Huge branches, far above and monstrous in the gloom, seemed to merge and grow from one tree to another like bridges.

  “Ykéa!”

  Tenlar’s shout snapped her away from the spectacle. Too late. Her sled crashed against a massive root and fell to one side, Telai along with it. The
dogs only made it worse, tangling their harnesses and snapping at one another in their efforts to free themselves. Tenlar stopped alongside to help sort things out, calm and soldier-like, speaking no word of reproach. A quick inspection revealed no sign of damage or injury. From that point on Telai forced herself to stop gawking and concentrate on the trail.

  The snow cover thinned to two or three inches, either because of lesser snowfall or else tons of it held in place by the soaring canopy above; whatever the reason it slowed them, for the runners dragged, and the dogs panted heavily in the cold air to keep the loads moving. Telai and Tenlar added their own strength to the handles, and they were soon too occupied to give much heed to anything beyond their immediate surroundings.

  Suddenly they emerged into a wide clearing, and came to a halt.

  It was flat as a frozen lake, some three hundred feet in diameter and covered in a thick blanket of snow. The surrounding forest stood so high that the wintry afternoon only cast a pale gloom on the clearing, while the trees seemed to regard these intruders with somber expectation. There was little doubt in Telai’s mind that they had reached the end of their journey at last.

  They unharnessed the dogs, fed them, and sat on their sleds munching strips of smoked venison. As Telai put aside her awe and examined the place with a more discerning eye, she noticed that the trees encompassed the glade in a perfect circle, every one the exact same distance apart. The only plausible explanation was that some ancient forester had planted them in this fashion, but she couldn’t shake the notion that they had grown there of their own design.

  In any event they were so focused on the trees overhead they failed to notice anything on the ground. Telai was the first to spot it.

  At the center of the circle grew a little pine only a few summers old. Barely half its slender branches cleared the snow. Anywhere else it would have meant nothing. Here it drew Telai like a magnet, and as they rose from their sleds and edged closer she realized that the growing sense of direction originated from this insignificant little tree. It looked so small against the backdrop of its giant companions. Yet she sensed a vague supremacy or power surrounding it, as if it was greater than the others in ways no mortal sight could detect.

  They stopped at what seemed a respectful—or cautious—distance. They searched the area for some reassuring sign, Telai half expecting a mysterious figure to appear between the massive trunks or hail them from far above.

  She shrieked, then stifled it at once. Tenlar spun around.

  The tree was gone. In its place, calm as a mountain in sunshine, stood a man. He was completely bald, smiling warmly from a round face full of wrinkles. Though he was dressed in a dark, long-sleeved shirt and heavy trousers, he wore no coat or warm covering of any kind. Telai assumed he was the embodiment of the strange wraith they had seen in Gebi, but his true form shocked her; she had, unknowingly, expected someone more serene and grave. This man’s appearance bordered on comical.

  “Welcome,” he said, and bowed. After a brief hesitation Telai and Tenlar copied the gesture, speechless. “I wish I could have given you clearer instructions,” he continued, “but the risks were too great.”

  “Are you Ksoreda?” asked Tenlar.

  “I am—and in the flesh this time. Though I don’t think I asked for your names before.”

  Tenlar made the introductions, then quickly scanned the clearing again. “I thought we’d find a fortress of some kind—at least according to legend.”

  “Your legends aren’t too far off, actually. You’ll see.”

  “I also seem to remember you saying that you’re not permitted on our world in bodily form,” Telai asked.

  The old man frowned a little. “I’m not sure you’ll understand this, or even if I should tell you, but—this place—indeed, this entire forest—is not part of your world.”

  His statement so befuddled her that she hardly realized he had taken a few steps toward the north side of the clearing. “If you please,” he said, one arm raised for them to follow. “My servant will tend to your animals.”

  They hesitated at first, then followed their host through the snow. As they drew near to one particular tree the faint outline of a door appeared, a wide half circle set in the thick bark between two giant roots, invisible from any kind of distance. Ksoreda gave it a gentle shove, and it opened, but not in a way they expected; it faded away like fog, revealing a dimly-lit interior beyond.

  They stepped cautiously into a small chamber pungent with a resinous odor. The door reappeared, shutting off the pale glimmer of snow. A soft, pearly light took its place. A lush carpet of velvety moss grew over the floor, continuing up a staircase that wound like a corkscrew into the tree; Telai longed to kick off her boots and wiggle her toes in it.

  “It’s warm in here,” she whispered to Tenlar as they followed their host up the stairs. She wondered how the place was heated; it seemed reckless to light a fire inside a tree. She glanced left and right at the coarsely-grained walls. “Does this tree possess life in the same manner as the others?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Ever since we passed Gur’alyreiv I’ve felt something strange inhabiting this forest. And that tree on Graxmoar—that was Heradnora’s spirit, wasn’t it?”

  He stopped and faced her. “How can you possibly know that?”

  “A vision I had last night.”

  “But your gift of clairvoyance—you were the first to hear my thoughts. Surely you’ve experienced this sort of thing before.”

  She trembled as the vision of blood-flattened grass flashed in her mind again. “Not like this.”

  He paused, considering his reply. “Forgive me, Mistress Telai. I’m forgetting my manners. You should strengthen yourselves with food and rest before we begin.”

  Telai puzzled over his words as they resumed the climb. He led the way upward, and ever more upward, until her knees ached, and she wondered if they would ever see the end of it. But they never reached the top. To her relief he entered a narrow, twisting hallway ending at a door, which opened of its own accord as he approached.

  They stepped through into a large room. Strange wooden shapes flowed along the ceiling, as if the chamber had been grown instead of excavated. Two massive beds, several chairs, a few tables and tall shelves, all formed a living part of the tree. The legs and bedposts merged with the floor like roots, and the thick headboards stuck out from the wall like old branch stumps healed over by years of growth.

  “Here you can rest and refresh yourselves,” Ksoreda said as they gazed about. “There’s a small pitcher of wine on the table,” he added, pointing to the left. “I have nothing more substantial at present, I’m afraid. Later on I’ll be serving a full meal, and my servant Fedrallo will arrive to escort you when it’s ready. He’s seeing to your dogs and sleds as we speak.”

  “But—”

  “Don’t worry, Master Tenlar—I’ll answer all your questions in due time. But if there’s anything else you’d like, strike the gong, and Fedrallo will come.” He gestured to the right, where a large, engraved stone plate lay embedded in the wall, with a wooden, leather-bound mallet hanging nearby on a cord.

  “You’ve shown us every kindness,” Telai said, “but I insist we give heed to the matter of our quest as soon as possible. Time is precious.”

  His smile faded. “Time is not your greatest challenge, Mistress Telai.”

  “I don’t understand,” said Tenlar. “It’s taken us more than two weeks to get here from Spierel. To reach Ekendoré from here might take even longer.”

  “You misunderstand me. Time is important, but first you must be told what is required of you, and why.” He frowned. “Something I neglected to ask before: are your parents still living?”

  “Why?” he asked.

  “The reasons are complicated. But they are crucial to the success of your mission, and I must have your answer. The survival of your people in Ekendoré depends on it.”

  “My mother is alive,” Tenlar answer
ed, “but my father died when I was very young.”

  Ksoreda paled a little. “And you?”

  Telai blushed. “Yes,” she murmured, and the old man drew a long breath.

  “What?” Tenlar said, blinking at her. “You told me your father died like mine, when you were little.”

  She shook her head. “There are more important things to worry about right now.” To Ksoreda she said, “You do understand that Ekendoré is not the only part of Ada we wish to save.”

  His eyes turned sorrowful. “Of course. But you cannot defeat Heradnora without confronting her directly, and it is clear now that she intends to conquer every major city before showing herself at Ekendoré, using the Hodyn as her minions. And it would be suicide to confront her in Grimoa with her army surrounding her, especially without the element of surprise.”

  Telai’s heart skipped a beat. “Conquer? What does that mean?”

  Pity erased the last traces of his cheerful demeanor. He named the cities off grimly, as though citing a list of casualties. “Udan, Besa, Telené shortly after … then Enilií … I’ve yet to confirm whether Sintel has fallen. To the best of my knowledge Léiff, Spierel, and Ekendoré remain unconquered.”

  A dead silence fell. Telai stood rooted to the floor, the walls wavering and swelling like in a dream. When Tenlar at last opened his mouth to speak, Ksoreda held up his hand. “I will say no more until evening.”

  He left, the door closing behind him.

  9

  Violation

  Rape comes in many forms.

  - Edai, Weaponmaster of Ekendoré

  THE COUNCIL of Nine, the Overseer, and all higher-ranking Raéni met in the bright chamber of Larientur to hear Soren’s tale and discuss Ada’s defense. Rewba was there, as well as Hené, Corinn, and Edai, the Weaponmaster. Soren reported no trace of Garda’s fury from the night before, yet Caleb was relieved to be excluded from the proceedings, for whatever reason.

  Though recent tidings had deepened the anxiety hanging over the city, neither their scouts nor the bivouac north of the Quayen saw any sign of the enemy other than at Udan. Hendra’s valley was as peaceful as ever. Caleb wondered at this, knowing it was foolish to assume the Hodyn were satisfied only with the quick fall of Udan. And he had not forgotten Wirden’s report to Soren. Had Heradnora bestowed their enemy with powers of stealth and secrecy enough to pass undetected before their very eyes? Soren suspected this as well, and he feared that if their guess was right, the smaller, less fortified cities in Ada were doomed. Rewba, as might be expected, wished to send a host of Raéni to the north in an attempt to recapture Udan, but Soren ruled against it.