THREE DROPS OF BLOOD

by Michelle L. Levigne

  I am an old man with too much time to think and remember and wish, he silently scolded himself.

  My love to you, Meghianna, even if you were no one but yourself, with no power, no imbrose, no destiny. Be careful, because I shall have to scold you severely if you come to harm, he added.

  His heart warmed when she responded with laughter. A tear in each eye surprised him when the connection between them severed, and he felt more alone than ever, with nearly one thousand soldiers riding behind him.

  * * * *

  Meghianna had never imagined that evil had a smell. In all the writings of her predecessors, she had noted that true evil, intelligent and cunning, cloaked itself in beauty and sweetness. It didn't wallow in filth and pestilence, but rather fooled its victims and enemies by its cleanliness, perfume, and riches.

  She gagged when the first whiff of the thick, hot, filthy aroma burned the back of her nose and mouth and tried to send writhing tentacles down into her stomach. It tumbled toward them without benefit of breeze, from the bowl-shaped valley with the tower of Tantagar sitting at the far end. The tower looked out over a precipice reputed to be so high, a man who fell over its edge would scream for half an hour before he hit the ground far below.

  "What is that?" Megassa said, her voice breaking.

  "That is not death," Kettin said, shaking his head, as if he could escape the stench that grew stronger with every heartbeat, though their traveling party had reined in their horses to stop now. "I know the smell of death, even ten days old and fouled by drakags. This isn't such a clean smell."

  "Clean?" Ynessa choked and went so pale, Meghianna could see the veins in her neck. To her credit, the young woman didn't lose the remains of her breakfast. She dug in the saddlebag on her right hand and pulled out a bottle of opaque blue crystal. "I'm sorry, love, but I think this is necessary," she said, turning to Pirkin.

  He laughed and pulled out his knife, and proceeded to cut strips off the bottom of his cloak. "You're more clever than me, and I'd be a petty man to be upset."

  "About what?" Markas asked.

  "Perfume?" Meghianna guessed. "Thank you, Ynessa. And Pirkin is right. Very clever. I should have thought of it myself." She glanced around at the remainder of their party. "Do you mind smelling like a lady's perfume?"

  "Thank the Estall for sweetheart gifts," another Valor muttered from behind the wad of his cloak he had brought up to muffle the stench.

  Meghianna wove some minor magic into the generous sprinkles of perfume Ynessa and Pirkin put on the cloths that each member of their party tied around their mouths and noses. Her magic made the sweet, clean perfume endure and not evaporate. As long as the stench remained in the air, the perfume would remain in the cloth.

  "Well," Megassa said, when they were armed against the assault on their noses. "We can see the tower. How much closer do you think we can get?"

  "That depends on what sort of monsters Timark has under his command," Kettin said.

  "I was thinking more along the lines of how close we can get to spy without infuriating our father." She snorted, the sound muffled behind her mask. "Or worrying your mother, Markas. No matter how ready you are to slay a few drakags to rescue her, she'll scold you if you so much as get a scratch on your knee."

  Despite the cloths across their faces, she and the young king-to-be shared a companionable grin of full understanding.

  "We should make sure Timark and the queen are in the tower," Pirkin said. "If only so the Warhawk and his soldiers don't waste their time marching all the way here."

  "That's where we come in handy," Kettin said.

  "And me," Megassa said. She glared at him, visibly daring him to forbid her participating in the spying mission. Kettin hesitated, then took a step back and spread his hands in surrender.

  Meghianna knew better than to protest. Megassa was proud of her skill with weapons and battle. Her sister would never forgive her if she interfered in a battle against monsters. Just as Meghianna would never forgive herself if her sister was injured in any way.

  "Kindly do not bring back any foul new poisons or venom for me to battle," she said. "Markas, you will stay with me, please? I assume you know something about the creatures waiting for the rest of our party, and I would like to gather as much information as I can to warn the coming soldiers."

  "I suppose that's better than pretending I'm staying here to protect you," the boy said, with only a touch of grumbling.

  "You'll make a great and good king, lad," Kettin offered. "Common sense, and knowing when to fight and not fight. Sometimes it takes until a man is twice your age before he learns that."

  Pirkin went with the others, leaving Ynessa with Markas and Meghianna to guard their camp.

  The air buzzes, Megassa reported after the spying party had been gone less than half an hour. I don't know if it really is the air, or the concentration of star-metal, or something else.

  I think it is the star-metal, Meghianna said after a few seconds of thought. Your mind-voice is clearer than usual. The power in the air is affecting your imbrose.

  Ugh. Do you think if I spend too much time here, it will break the binding spell and release all that magic I don't want?

  Oh, now that's a thought...

  What? Don't tease me.

  What if that's why Timark has his men gathering up all the star-metal they can find and bringing it here? To concentrate so much power, it gives him imbrose? Or gives them imbrose to use in his service? What if he's trying to compete with the Stronghold and Wynystrys?

  What if he's trying to find the Zygradon to use against Braenlicach? her sister countered.

  What if he's trying to make his own Zygradon? Meghianna shivered. I need to talk with Lord Mrillis.

  I'll tell Kettin and his men what you just thought of, see what they think.

  What we thought of, she retorted, and heard the sound of her sister's laughter before their connection ended.

  "Is that possible?" Ynessa said, when Meghianna told her two companions what she and her sister had been discussing.

  "Some Noveni who never knew they had Rey'kil blood discovered imbrose when they were given star-metal gifts from Lady Ceera," Meghianna said. "Timark could be more right than he knows, to think if he has enough concentrated in one place, it will awaken his imbrose. But the problem is that the awakening comes from refined, tamed star-metal. What fills Tantagar is raw, untamed, poisonous." She shrugged and settled into the secure perch she had made for herself with two saddles for backrest and some blankets for padding. Contacting Mrillis while he traveled through the tunnel between the continents would take more effort and concentration than usual, just to penetrate the star-metal lining the tunnel, let alone the leagues of water and stone in the sea and the sea bed. The strain on her body had to be offset as much as possible, to prevent it impinging on her concentration.

  She gave instructions to her two companions, what to watch for, how to rouse her from the communications link if they needed her help or they thought she was in distress. She nearly laughed aloud when Markas remarked, with some brightening of his mood, that it was a good thing she had kept him away from the spying mission after all. Meghianna supposed it had to be some salve to his pride, to be in charge of protecting the Queen of Snows.

  Mrillis didn't respond immediately. That worried her enough that she nearly let go of the Threads she had grasped for communication. Meghianna scolded herself for being a spoiled child, always expecting him to listen for her call, and for everything to always come easily to her. Hadn't she prepared herself for difficulties? She knew the physical circumstances would impede this task, so why did she let it discourage her?

  Blessed Estall, am I truly weak, simply because everything I have set my hand to do has always turned out well? When true trouble and danger comes, will I fail? Make me strong. Help me to reach success, I pray you.

  Taking a deep breath, she settled more firmly into her seat and shoved her mental hands deeper and with more force into the Thread
s around her. Meghianna flinched when the Thread in her left hand, nearly as thick as her arm, changed from pale blue-white to a deep royal blue tinged with purple. She held on, digging her fingernails in, so that sparks shot up in little fountains. She had to fight the urge to close her eyes, because her physical eyes were already closed. What she saw was with the eyes of her mind and spirit. Those sparks were spurts of energy thrown off by the effort. Had she misjudged what it would take to break through to the tunnel? Why had her two predecessors had no trouble talking to those traveling the tunnel?

  Child, what is wrong? Mrillis called. His mental voice sounded faint, as if heard through a thick wall.

  I can hardly hear you. Is something wrong with the tunnel?

  No. I am merely using all the latent power of the star-metal around us to assist the soldiers. We are marching through the night, and I use magic to feed the soldiers' bodies and replenish their strength in lieu of food and rest. What have your people found? It's too soon, isn't it, to have any results from your spies?

  Quickly, Meghianna shared with him what Megassa had reported, the buzzing sensation she had shared with her, and their theories about Timark's reasons for gathering all the raw star-metal.

  Unfortunately, Mrillis said after a long silence, while she waited and resisted the sensation of her hands cramping, all your theories are possible. And all of them are dangerous.

  What can we do?

  You know the principles of working the star-metal, don't you? How we learned to refine the metal as it fell from the sky?

  I read all the journals of everyone involved at that time, and I have touched the stored memories. Oh, why didn't I think of that? Meghianna nearly laughed aloud as an image and a plan filled her mind.

  You haven't had time. Be merciful to yourself, child, you're only nineteen. You have centuries of work and life before we will expect you to be all-knowing.

  Meghianna did laugh aloud this time. The sound was harsh, nearly jolting her out of her communication link with the Threads.

  Give me time to think this through, and think how best to handle it yourself. You and I are going to play tug-war with whoever thinks to control all of Timark's star-metal. We will refine it and tame it and steal it from under his nose... and provide a most amusing distraction while the Warhawk's forces physically attack Tantagar, Mrillis said, his mental voice thick with ironic amusement.

  When Meghianna emerged from the link, she was even more exhausted than she had expected. It made her head throb with the effort, but she examined the memory of the conversation and realized that she poured her own strength into the Threads to keep the communication link open. At the same time, Mrillis drew in all the imbrose power he could gather, to pass on to the soldiers who marched through the night--whatever night there was to be had in the tunnel, leagues below the sea. No wonder she felt empty and bruised.

  She promised Ynessa and Markas a full report on what she and Mrillis had discussed, as soon as she had something to eat and had washed her face. Meghianna fell asleep with food in her hand and spilled the wooden cup of watered wine and strengthening herbs Ynessa insisted on mixing for her. She didn't wake until long after moonrise, when Megassa and Pirkin returned to their camp.

  Her sister laughed at the bare-bones plan Mrillis had outline. "It's brilliant! You'll steal all that star-metal right from Timark's grasp, and probably destroy half his fortress in the process." Then she caught her breath and sobered. "Are you up for it, Meggi? I know you've done some work on refined star-metal, making bracelets and wrist cuffs and such, but that's all raw metal piled up and buried all around the tower. More star-metal than any of us have seen in our lives, raw or refined, all put together."

  "Maybe this is the great trial I was born for," Meghianna said after a moment of thought. "It must be done. Such a great pile of raw metal will do more than the usual level of harm, simply because concentrating it multiplies the effect."

  "Will it hurt my mother, being exposed to it so long?" Markas asked. His voice trembled just a little, enough to reveal how hard he fought to be brave and strong.

  "Would you like us to lie and tell you everything will be all right, and your mother wouldn't feel any different if she had gone to visit a friend in another kingdom?" Pirkin said, when Meghianna hesitated. "Star-metal is power, whether it is raw or refined. My grandmother wrote in her journal that we do not make star-metal our servant, no matter how we tame it, but rather ask it politely to be our friend and ally. It is dangerous. I would rather the Estall would never allow it to fall on our world ever again, but we must be thankful that there are those born among us who can handle it and use the power it creates for the good of all."

  "You didn't answer my question," the boy grumbled.

  "We don't know," Meghianna said. She looked away when Megassa glared at the young Valor. "We are not sure yet of the conditions around the tower, if Tantagar is shielded or not, and if Timark even has her in the tower itself. He could have taken your mother through the land and out the other side, into clean territory. His entire plan could be to lose us in the poisoned territory, and have his monsters and warriors destroy us if we try to rescue her."

  "Besides," Megassa offered, "it took years before the sickness of star-metal affected the people. If it hurts Queen Glyssani at all, it will be short-lived. And my sister is the premier healer in the entire World, so there is no reason to worry."

  I don't know if I should be grateful for your confidence or not, Meghianna said privately to her sister.

  Megassa's response was a smirk and a snort of muffled laughter.

  Chapter Eleven

  By the time the Warhawk's forces emerged from the tunnel, Meghianna had gathered up images of the foulness surrounding the tower at Tantagar and assembled a map of the pitfalls and booby-traps from the various memories of the six who had gone to spy. By painstaking, draining hours exploring the Threads, she marked all the spots where Timark had buried his caches of unrefined star-metal. It amused her to find he had essentially built a fence with star-metal, with chunks of the metal buried a man's stride apart in a wide circle all around the polluted valley that had the tower of Tantagar as its heart. The power that radiated from the unrefined metal formed the walls of the fence.

  In studying the mental maps and reports sent by the team of Valors, Mrillis paused over the images and impressions that had the faint flavor of Pirkin's mind. He wondered if his grandson felt anything at all about their impending encounter. During the two years of Pirkin's training, they had worked their way through discomfort to a cordial, but not altogether comfortable relationship. Mrillis knew his grandson would never eagerly or easily come to him for anything, so he had to comfort himself with knowing that the young Valor would not walk away from him or make any effort to avoid him. They had enjoyed some quiet evenings with Efrin and his daughters, discussing music and fables and playing games of skill on the tables or floors, but he doubted he would ever have private, close times with his grandson.

  Be grateful for what the Estall has given you, Mrillis scolded himself, and focused his mind and discipline back onto the information Meghianna's small troop had sent to them.

  "Thank the Estall," Efrin said, when Mrillis called a halt just inside the next thick patch of untamed woods, so they could sit in some semblance of privacy with the commanders of the units, and discuss what he had learned. His crooked grin let Mrillis know he was grateful for the chance to get out of the saddle, just as much as for the information.

  Mrillis needed to rest. As he had admitted to Meghianna, gleaning the energy of star-metal from the lining of the tunnel under the sea drained him. Now that they had left the tunnel, he no longer had those reserves to bolster himself. The soldiers were alert and energized, if not rested. Mrillis planned to doze in the saddle, relying on his companions to keep his horse moving in the right direction and to protect him if any enemies lay in wait along the way.

  He muffled a silent groan at the soreness in his back and thighs, as he climb
ed back into the saddle after the all-too-brief strategy session. It had been too many years since he had gone adventuring and exploring throughout Lygroes, and he had lost his endurance and resilience, even if he had not lost his vigor. He might look like a man of seventy or eighty, but he was still strong and alert enough to keep up with men younger than Efrin.

  "What's so funny?" the Warhawk asked, when Mrillis snorted, and then laughed outright at his thoughts.

  He dug his heels into his mount's sides and the gelding, barely rested in the scanty two hours of the stop, leaped forward, then snorted and shook his head, expressing his displeasure. He was one of Mist's sons, and therefore three times as intelligent as the average muscle-bound warhorse.

  "I just realized that I've stopped thinking of you as 'the boy,' and started using you as the measuring stick for a man's strength and...well... I suppose, his usefulness."

  "Should I be amused or insulted?" the king muttered, studying Mrillis with a few sideways glances. Then he shook his head and a wry grin lit his dusty, travel-stained face. "It's nice to know you think of me as a grown man, at last."

  "That's not what I meant, and you know it." Mrillis returned his grin.

  Behind them, the unit commanders rode side-by-side, conferring still over the information Meghianna had sent, and the hastily drawn map. The six spies had discovered that the tunnel Meghianna and Mrillis had sensed was exactly that, creating a narrow road straight through the poison of Tantagar. Pirkin had examined and passed along detailed impressions of the badly woven Threads that held back the warped star-metal energy, the monsters, and the twisted plantlife that carpeted the ground and filled the air. Mrillis still marveled at what his grandson had shown him. It was a clever idea, even if badly executed. Whoever had created the tunnel didn't have the strength or skill to weave something sturdy or permanent. Pirkin and Megassa had both reported many spots along the length of the safe passage where tangled Threads and spots of clumsily made spells showed patches, holding together places where Mrillis assumed monsters had managed to break through. Did that speak badly of the weaver of the tunnel, or was it a dire warning about the strength and intelligence and magical potential of the monsters inhabiting Tantagar?