The Shattered Stone

by Robert Newman

  “No, Bahri.” Then when he was gone, “My father. It could not have been he!” She looked at all three of them in turn, and none of them said anything. “You think it was he, don’t you? But why? How could he know who you were or why you were here?”

  “You said he could read signs,” said Neva. “And you also said you had a strange feeling about us yourself. Perhaps he guessed.”

  “Perhaps. And he has always been against any move that might mean peace with Andor. But to do anything like this! …” She looked again at the mimosa whose leaves were now turning brown, and then at Liall. “Very well,” she said with sudden resolution, “If it will accomplish what you say—or what the stone says—I will marry you.”

  “I am honored, Princess,” said Liall. “And I honor you for your gallantry. For I think that if you could give your heart where you would, it would not be to me.”

  “It is no easier for you than it is for me. You love Neva, do you not?”

  “Yes, Princess,” he said simply. “I have since I first saw her.”

  “Please, Liall …” said Neva.

  “Let him say it,” said Devita. “If he has never said it before, it is good that it should be said now. As for me …” She looked at Liall. “Ah, well. It does not matter. What we should talk about is how we can do what we must do. The priestesses at the temple are my friends, and it may be that they would marry us secretly.”

  “That will not do,” said Neva.

  “Why not?”

  “Because it is too dangerous. If your father has guessed who we are and what we would do—and if it was he who tried to kill us—he will try again. You must be married openly—with all in both Brunn and Andor accepting it.”

  “Then it cannot be done,” said Devita. “In spite of what I said this morning, there are too many here who are opposed to peace with Andor—not just my father and the queen—but others, too. And we have very little time. For I fear that any day now we may be at war.”

  “So I think, too,” said Liall. “The king, my uncle, seemed determined on it before we left Andor. Is there nothing we can do, then?”

  “There may be something,” said Neva slowly, “though it will be difficult and dangerous.”

  “What is that?” asked Ivo.

  She told them, and they were silent for several minutes.

  “What you said is true,” said Liall. “Many things could go wrong, but I think we should attempt it. Are we agreed?” They nodded. “Since the time is so short, I should go at once.”

  “I will help you leave the palace,” said Devita.

  “If you will do that, I think I can do the rest,” said Liall. He turned to Neva and Ivo. “I will not say goodbye. We will see one another again.”

  “I hope we shall,” said Ivo. “At least once more.”

  Liall nodded, and when Devita opened the door, he looked a last time at Neva, then followed the princess out.

  “Devita was right,” said Ivo. “It was good that it was finally said.”

  “That Liall loved me?”

  “Yes. Did you know it?”

  “Of course.”

  He nodded. “If I knew it, I thought you must. And do you love him?”

  “As a friend—a very good friend—yes. But in no other way.”

  “Why not? He’s handsome, brave, thinks much of others, and he is a prince.”

  She looked at him. “Do you love Devita?” she asked.

  “No.”

  “Why not? She’s beautiful, also thinks much of others, and she is a princess.”

  “I know. And I like and admire her. But I do not love her.”

  “Then you should understand why I feel as I do about Liall.”

  “Yes, I suppose I do. About the warden, you said he could have guessed who we were and why we were here. But there is another way he could have known.”

  “The gore-crow?”

  “Yes. We thought it had come here to spy on us, but it might be that it told him, warned him.”

  “That could well be.”

  “But what will he do when he discovers we did not drink the wine?”

  “He will have to be careful. He cannot let anyone know what he attempted. But he will probably try again.”

  “Then we must be careful, too.”

  “Yes.” Then suddenly, passionately, “Is there to be no end to this? Why was this task given to us?”

  “I thought you believed there was a compelling reason for it as there was for the spell that was put on us. That they were part of some pattern that in time we would understand.”

  “And when will that time be? It was as much the spell as the task that took us to Tarec, to Andor and now here. And what have we accomplished? We still know no more about ourselves than when we found ourselves on the heath!”

  “I think we have done a great deal. For while we may know nothing more about ourselves than we did, we know that the task is a great one and well worth completing, no matter what the dangers.”

  “You may know that, but I am not sure I do!”

  “Neva …” He moved towards her to comfort her, but she drew back.

  “No. Don’t!”

  “I’ m sorry.”

  “I’m the one who’s sorry,” she said and going to the window, she stood there looking out bleakly.

  Devita led Liall along the corridor, down a narrow stair at the far end of it and through little used passages to the stables.

  “I am sending Nord on an errand,” she said to one of the grooms. “Saddle his horse.”

  “Yes, Your Highness,” he said and went off.

  “Princess …” Liall began.

  “I forced you to say what you did about Neva. But there is nothing you need say to me.”

  “Perhaps nothing I need say, but much I would like to say.”

  “But, being honest, cannot bring yourself to say?”

  “On the contrary,” he said, looking at her steadily. “It would come very easily to my tongue. I would tell you how beautiful I think you are and how much I admire you for your goodness and your courage. And I would then go on to other things.”

  “Telling me how much you love me?”

  “Telling you how much I think I can love you. But I do not think this is the time for it nor a stable the place.”

  “No, it is not. But at the proper time and in a more fitting place, I will be glad to hear it.”

  The groom brought out his horse and dropping to one knee Liall kissed her hand.

  “Farewell, Princess.”

  “May you and your mission fare well for all our sakes.”

  Liall mounted and rode out of the stable. Devita watched him go, and her face was less strained than it had been since she left the temple that morning.

  Neva and Ivo looked at her inquiringly when she returned to her chamber.

  “He has gone,” she said.

  “And no one questioned him?” asked Ivo.

  “No.”

  “Tarnir was here a moment ago,” said Neva. “The queen wishes you to attend her in the council chamber.”

  “Did he say why?”

  “No.”

  “Something is afoot,” she said. “You had better come with me.”

  “The queen will not object?” asked Ivo.

  “I don’t care if she does.”

  They followed her down the stairs to the council chamber which was next to the great hall. The two guards outside the door saluted her and looked curiously at Neva and Ivo but said nothing. One of them opened the door and they went in.

  The queen sat in a throne at the far end of the room, the warden on one side of her and Count Jeranus on the other. The warden’s eyes widened when he saw Neva and Ivo, but he said nothing.

  “We have been waiting for you, Devita,” said the queen. Then with a frown, “Why have you brought Neva and Ivo with you?”

  “Because they are my friends.”

  “And what about the third from Nordan?” asked the warden. “Is he not a frie
nd, too?”

  “Yes, father,” said Devita. “But I sent him on an errand.”

  “What errand?”

  “Does it matter?”

  “You are acting very strangely, Devita,” he said coldly. “The queen summoned you because she had something of great import to tell you. And for you to bring others here with you …”

  “They and everyone else in Mirana will hear of it soon enough,” said the queen. “Why should they not hear it now?” Then turning back to Devita, “Word has been brought to us that Andor’s army is massing along the border. There have already been some skirmishes. I have ordered Count Jeranus to muster as great a force as he can as quickly as he can. While the levy will not be complete by morning, it will be large enough so that we can ride south, attack and at long last utterly destroy Andor!”

  Chapter 18

  The sun was almost directly overhead as they approached the forest. Tarnir and the guard rode in the van, in front of and surrounding the queen, who had the Count Jeranus on one side of her and the warden on the other. Behind them were Devita, Neva and Ivo and behind them, stretching far back across the grassy plain were the armed horsemen of Brunn.

  There had been angry words that morning when the warden discovered that Devita intended to ride to the scene of the battle. But the queen intervened, saying that if the battle was lost there would be no safety for anyone, queen or princess, anywhere in Brunn. And since she was going, there was no reason why Devita should not go, too.

  Jeranus drew rein on a knoll.

  “I do not think you should go any farther, Your Majesty,” he said.

  “Why not?”

  He pointed. Somewhat to their right the green wall of the forest ended in an open area that was dotted with charred tree stumps, the Burnt Place. Beyond it metal glittered, the weapons and bucklers of the hosts of Andor, drawn up in ranks and waiting.

  The queen looked, not at her enemies, but at the scorched and blasted ground in front of her.

  “This is the place of treachery where my daughter died, is it not?”

  Jeranus nodded.

  “And so by accident or design it will all end where it began. For this is where we shall join battle with them.” She raised her eyes now, dark, burning eyes, looking at Andor’s armed might. “Very well, Jeranus. Ima be with you for it is in your hands now.”

  Ivo glanced at Neva and Devita, then sent his horse forward, drawing up in front of the queen.

  “Your Majesty, though I have done naught to deserve it, I ask a boon of you.”

  “Of all times, I cannot think of a worse one than this,” she said, frowning, “when the fate of Brunn is at hazard. But what is the boon?”

  “I ask leave, before the battle begins, to meet some champion of Andor in single combat.”

  “It is a strange request,” said the queen.

  “It is a ridiculous one,” said the Warden. “What purpose will it serve?”

  “I do not know,” said the queen. “What think you, Jeranus?”

  “It is a custom that is not unknown,” said the count. “I once met Tharlak, Andor’s great captain, and exchanged hand-strokes with him before a battle. And if they agree to it, it will give us time to bring up the rest of our forces.”

  “Then you would say yes?”

  “I see nothing wrong with a challenge, and there is something to be gained by it. But if Andor accepts, it is I who should meet their champion.”

  “Then I am opposed to it,” said the queen. “If anything should happen to you who would lead us in battle?”

  “Thank you, Your Majesty,” said Ivo. “Count, you have seen me at sword play. Can you fault me there?”

  “No, Ivo,” said Jeranus. “Though it is not easy for me to say it, I think you could well best me at it.”

  “Then may I stand forth for Brunn, Your Majesty?”

  Still frowning, the queen studied him, then turned to Devita who had joined them as had Neva and Tarnir.

  “He is your friend, Devita. What say you?”

  “I think he should be permitted to do it.”

  “Even though you do not know who he will face or what will happen to him?”

  “We do not know what will happen to any of us before this day is done.”

  “That is true. Very well. Tarnir, you have heard what was said. Ride on as our herald and issue the challenge.”

  “Yes, Your Majesty,” said Tarnir, and raising a white scarf as a sign of truce, he cantered forward across the Burnt Place towards the army of Andor.

  They waited as a single horseman rode forward to meet him, conferred with him and rode back.

  “Think you that the king is there?” asked the queen.

  “They are too far off to be certain,” said Jeranus. “But I think it is likely.”

  Finally the horseman joined Tarnir again, and he returned.

  “They have agreed to it,” he said. “The meeting will take place there.” He pointed to the centre of the Burnt Place. “The armies are to remain where they are, but the guard may ride forward with you, Your Majesty, if you would watch.”

  “I do not like it,” said the warden. “Why should we trust Andor more now than we ever have?”

  “In this you can trust them,” said Jeranus. “Whatever else they me be, they are not truce-breakers.”

  “Say you so here of all places?”

  Jeranus was silent, but the queen said, “Still I will trust them.” She looked at the warden. “Fear not, brother. What happens now in this meeting will change nothing. I can live no longer with that which has been between Andor and Brunn as Brunn itself cannot. And for well or ill, it will end today.”

  “You had best make ready, Ivo,” said Jeranus.

  “Yes, count,” said Ivo.

  Taking his war helmet from his saddle bow, he put it on, the nose guard and cheek pieces covering most of his face. Then he rode forward to the edge of the Burnt Place and dismounted. On the far side of the Burnt Place a group of horsemen from Andor were advancing also. Among them Ivo recognized King Lanis, Zothar, and Gildas who had brought them to Lantar from the Mendir Marshes.

  Jeranus, the warden, Neva and Devita dismounted, too. Ivo gave his horse’s reins to the count, saluted the queen, and Devita, then turned to Neva. Her eyes were large and shadowed.

  “May the powers that have been with us this far be with you now,” she whispered.

  He kissed her, then sword in hand, walked forward to the centre of the seared and scorched area.

  A single warrior of Andor had come forward also. Like Ivo, a war helmet covered most of his face, his sword was in his hand and his buckler was ready. They met near the charred stump of a large tree and stood there for a moment, waiting.

  Gildar and Tarnir both raised their war-horns and blew a harsh blast, a second and a third, the signal to begin. As the echoes of the last call died away, Ivo dropped his sword and buckler and whipped off his helmet. The warrior who stood opposite him did the same, and they embraced.

  There was a gasp from all who watched. Then as Ivo and the champion from Andor stepped back and the queen saw that it was Liall, she said, “What does this mean?”

  “Your Majesty,” said Ivo, “you said that what happened here at this meeting would change nothing. I pray that it may not be so. For indeed that which has been between Andor and Brunn should end today, but end this way.”

  “Are you calling for peace—and calling for it here in the very place where my daughter died as a result of Andor’s treachery?”

  “If there was treachery, it was not on our side but on yours!” said King Lanis. “For it was here that my son died, too!”

  “You are mistaken, Your Majesty,” said a voice behind Ivo. “And so is the queen.”

  Ivo and Liall both turned. Jartan had come out of that part of the forest that bordered the Burnt Place and was walking towards them. And in his outstretched hands he held two small gold crowns.

  “Tharlak!” said the king.

  “More t
reachery!” said the warden. “Here is the great betrayer himself!”

  “Was I the great betrayer,” asked Jartan. “Or was it someone else?”

  Pulling a dagger from his belt, the warden leaped forward and stabbed Jartan in the breast. There was a ring of steel on steel and Jartan staggered back. But the byrnie he wore under his tunic had turned the blow. Recovering, the warden raised his dagger again to strike at Jartan’s unprotected throat, but Ivo seized his wrist and wrested it from him.

  “Thank you, Ivo,” said Jartan. “I ask you again, Cadorno, was I the betrayer or was it someone else?”

  The warden hesitated, his face white. Then, drawing back, “Zothar!” he cried.

  Andor’s high steward, standing near the king, stirred.

  “Why do you call on me?” he asked.

  “Why indeed?” said another voice, one that was low and musical. And now Mistress Silvia came out of the forest also. And as she advanced towards them, tall and beautiful in her shimmering grey robe, all that Neva and Ivo had forgotten came back to them.

  “So you have decided to play a part in this, too,” said Zothar.

  “I have played a part in it from the beginninng,” said Mistress Silvia. “And now we have come to the end. How stand the sands in your glass, Zothar? Have they not run out?”

  “No, not yet!” said Zothar. And taking a short ivory wand from under his robe he pointed it at her. There was a clap of thunder high overhead and a lightning bolt flashed down towards her. She raised her hand, and at the last moment the bolt was turned aside and struck the scorched earth close to where the warden was standing. He swayed, then fell forward on his face and lay still.

  “You should not have done that, Zothar,” she said. “For you know that once you use the black arts to gain your ends, you free me to use my powers too. Or are you challenging me?”

  “Yes!” said Zothar. “Vendraka, stand by me!”

  There was a flutter of wings above them, and the gore-crow came swooping down and settled on a charred tree stump near him. Zothar drew himself up, his eyes blazing. He lifted his wand again and suddenly he was gone. In his place was an enormous serpent, its thick body plated with scales, its mouth agape and its fangs dripping with venom.

  Coiling, the serpent struck at Mistress Silvia. But as it did, she held up her hand, palm outward, and the triangular head was checked as if it had struck an invisible shield. Again it struck, writhing closer, and again her outstretched hand held it off. Then she brought her hand down in a sweeping gesture, and the monstrous serpent shuddered and drew back. At the same time it began to change. Its scales lost their color, and it became smaller. It shrank quickly; to the size of a jungle river snake, to that of a viper, then to that of a common grass snake. And still it shrank.