by C. L. Scheel
Assur glowered him. "Would you have me send her to Verlian from that place of madness? You are mad yourself to even suggest such a thing. Kitarisa will be sent to the Goddess as befitting her rank."
"My lord, Kuurus is right," Mar'Kess interrupted, placing a restraining hand on his arm. "Both you and Kuurus were restored by the Daughter; it was she who gave Kitarisa the power to defeat Malgora."
"The Daughter will surely restore the Lady Kitarisa to us," Kuurus added.
"Kitarisa is dead," Assur said flatly, holding her even closer to him. "Not even the Daughter can bring her back."
"We do not know that, my lord," Mar'Kess went on, "but surely if she changed the lady to another creature, she can restore her to us."
"Great Lord, you must at least ask," Kuurus pleaded.
"And if they cannot? What then?"
"Then, we send her to Verlian as would be proper, but you must at least try." Mar'Kess reached out and lightly touched Kitarisa's hair. "She deserves that, at least."
Assur bowed his head over Kitarisa, visibly struggling with his inner misgivings and his comrades' reasoning. Kuurus knew Assur detested the White Sisters as much as he did, but the Daughter had saved both of them and she had changed Kitarisa before their very eyes into that beast--that unknown creature--to do battle with Malgora, but even the Daughter's power was not enough to stop Kitarisa from being taken from them.
Kuurus did not envy his lord's decision, but in his heart, he knew Kitarisa deserved at least the chance to be restored to them.
Mar'Kess place a comforting hand on Assur's shoulder.
"Take her to them. Allow the Daughters to try."
Reluctantly Assur nodded his head. He shifted Kitarisa in his arms and headed for the waiting Adzra.
The great warhorse was nearly spent and stood, head down, waiting for his master to ask him to make one last journey.
ASSUR RODE THROUGH the winding, narrow passage ways of the Soldrat Mountains, alone, holding Kitarisa's ruined body against him with one arm and the reins in his other hand. He was beyond exhaustion, functioning only on the ragged edges of his disciplined training and sheer will-power.
Hoof beat after hoof beat, mile after mile, took him closer to the massive cavern-temple where he would leave his beloved Kitarisa to whatever fate the remaining Daughters held for her. There was the barest margin of room for him and the horse to squeeze through the last opening in the chasm that led to the great entrance to the Catacombs.
Adzra's hooves made a hollow, echoing sound on the red granite steps as he rode the horse into the temple. Miraculously, the flame in the center of the first great hall still flared in the gloom.
In the short time Malgora had been defeated, the remaining Daughters had already begun to show their influence. The dead Wrathmen and Sisters alike had been removed and a sense of order and calm permeated the Catacombs' dark corridors. The ancient hall had been already swept clean as if in expectation of his arrival.
Assur halted the horse just before the dais at the end of the hall and swung down, easing Kitarisa from the saddle. He could barely hold her; his arms shook with fatigue. He could think of nothing else, but to sink to his knees and wait. Assur had never willingly knelt to anyone, except when he had received his swords and the gold band that encircled his brow proclaiming him the new Ter-Rey--or when he prayed to Verlian. All he could do was close his eyes and wait.
He thought he heard the gentle rustling of skirts against the stone floor and voices murmuring in soft tones.
"Good Assur, you have returned to us," a familiar voice spoke to him. He looked up into the warm gaze of Thespa. "And you have brought your lady."
A handful of Daughters and what appeared to be younger Sisters, stood respectfully off to one side. Their eyes betrayed none of the former icy-madness, only deep compassion and concern.
"She...she is dead. Malgora." He could not finish.
"We know and we are grieved."
Assur struggled for his next words. He had never begged for anything in his life and the long-remembered hatred for the Sisters was hard to put down. Fatigue and his love for Kitarisa finally won out.
He bowed his head again in submission.
"I...beg you to restore her to me?"
He sensed Thespa approach him and looked up.
"My Lord Assur, I know this is a difficult thing for you to ask--it has taken all your pride to do so. We will--"
"I will do whatever you wish," he said bluntly, cutting across the Daughter's words.
"We do not ask anything of you, only the privilege to restore our Order and the ways of Verlian's Daughters."
"Done." Assur studied the kindly face of the Daughter, expecting to see the cold gaze and hear more ruthless bargaining for Kitarisa's life.
"We will do everything we can. We can make no absolute promises, but we will try."
"Can you restore her or not?" he demanded.
The Holy Daughter sighed. "What you ask is difficult, even for us. My Lord D'Assuriel and Ter-Rey, we are your subjects too, and we will do all that is within our power. Surely you can expect no more?"
She turned and gestured toward the raised altar stone at the head of the temple. "Come, place Kitarisa here."
Assur struggled to his feet and climbed the few remaining steps to the altar stone where he gently laid Kitarisa down upon it. Stretching his arms wide, he rested his weight on his hands, head bowed over her.
"Restore her to me and you will have your Order and your Sanctuaries."
He felt her gentle hand on his dirtied, blood-stained arm.
"And if we do not?"
Assur sighed. "Then, it will not matter what you do."
"It will matter a great deal, my lord. Without your permission, we will stay within these walls, where we shall remain safe."
He glanced at the Daughter. "That is what she said when she died. She was safe." Assur returned his gaze to Kitarisa, too tired to discuss the issue any further.
Thespa's hand reached for his left temple and cheekbone. Her fingers probed gently until they settled into the correct position. At once, he felt the weariness drain from his body to be replaced with a kind of calming, numb sensation.
"It is an empty relief, my lord," she apologized. "A temporary reprieve from the exhaustion. You must get real rest as it will only last a few hours. You must go now. Kitarisa is safe with us. We will inform you. Go now. Return to your warriors and your people. They need you."
Assur nodded, but still reluctant to leave Kitarisa. He took her whole, right hand in his and placed a gentle kiss in the palm. "I would have taken you home, Kita," he whispered to her still form. Carefully, he placed her hand across her breast and turned away, knowing if he stayed any longer, he would never leave her.
The same relieving touch had apparently been applied to Adzra as the horse appeared fresher and more alert. Without looking back, Assur mounted the warhorse and heeled him around to leave the great hall.
What he did not see, but only heard, was the rustling of many skirts as the Daughter's curtsied to him as he rode out of the Catacombs.
Chapter 22
THEY FOUND KAZAN deep inside the ruined belly of Sherehn Keep with a remaining handful of loyal retainers at his side--and it was Raldan Mar'Kess who made the discovery. The fallen prince offered little resistance to being taken and bound, but he could not refrain from speaking angrily to his former First Captain.
"So, Mar'Kess, you have betrayed your own prince to that painted-up savage. How ironic that it should be you who is taking me prisoner."
The Talesian warriors in Mar'Kess' patrol bristled at Kazan's insult. Even the Riehlians became tense.
"Every word you say will make it all the worse for you, Kazan. I suggest you keep silent until you are in front of the Ter-Rey."
Mar'Kess deliberately dropped the honorific of `lord' as he was no longer obliged to do so and at this point--he held only the deepest contempt for his former prince.
He nodded curtly for
the warriors to take him away. By Assur's own orders, Kazan would not be allowed to ride back to Riehl, but walk, led by the throat behind Mar'Kess' horse. Mar'Kess was briefly thankful Assur had not ordered Kazan to be dragged back to Riehl--an ancient Talesian punishment that all Gorendtians remembered. A torture such as that would leave little left for Assur to punish.
By the time they reached the gates of Riehl, a crowd of angry spectators had gathered to watch Kazan as he was led through their city--the one he had boasted he would take in a single day. Children ran along the grim procession, gleefully flinging mud and horse dung at the disgraced prince, while their parents spat on him and hurled their insults.
Above their heads, Assur watched the proceedings from one of the tower windows. He held a cup of steaming shen tea in his long fingers. He was cold in spite of the warming fires in the keep. With one free hand he tugged at the fur about his shoulders.
"Send for Mar'Kess when he has finished with Kazan," he said to the young Siarsi attending him. The youth bowed respectfully.
"At once, Great Lord," he murmured.
The young warrior turned to go, but stopped when Assur suddenly held up his hand.
"And Lostic, find me a redreed. A long, stout one."
The boy bowed again, a perplexed look on his face, but he hastened to obey his order.
Assur took a reflective sip of the hot tea and sighed. The white-hot rage in him had cooled considerably. As Swordmaster Rame had so often said, never strike a blow unless your heart was cold. His heart was cold, dead-cold and weary.
Punishing Kazan was foremost in his thoughts, but now it seemed an empty revenge, not because Kazan did not deserve it, but because no matter what he did it would not heal his deepest wound. Riehl would be restored, the captive warriors would return to their homes, and order would resume in the Eastern Lands. Even the happy surprise of a returned Courronus, cold and exhausted from his ordeal with the Wrathmen, could not ease Assur's sorrow. None of this would restore Kitarisa to him.
THE FALCON HALL was filled with Talesian warriors, waiting eagerly for their prince. A rattle of a war drum silenced their eager murmurings. In unison, D'Assuriel's favored warriors began to chant in their ancient tongue, praising their leader, their chief--the Ter-Rey of their tribes. Spears beat the floor in time as their voices rose to something near adoration.
To the man, they went to one knee as Assur entered the hall. It took a moment for the startled Riehlians to comprehend what they saw, but quickly composed themselves and followed the others.
Instead of merely walking into the hall, surrounded by high-ranking retainers, D'Assuriel Taksma D'Achadek dar Daeamon, arrived standing on a platform borne on the shoulders by eight burly Talesians. The platform itself was constructed of spears lashed tightly together and covered with a rare, white breok hide. It was an unashamed display of admiration the Talesians paid their prince--certainly no Gorendtian soldier would have ever considered singing Kazan's praises, much less carry him on their shoulders.
D'Assuriel's face remained stern, almost impassive. A magnificent cloak made from the black fur of meerfoxes and insets of red fur cut in intricate patterns, draped him from his shoulders past his heels. He carried a spear, the only symbol of his high office--the shaft covered in beaten silver and breok horn; the spear's tip made of hammered gold. The only other indication of his rank was a plain gold band encircling his brow.
Kazan shifted on his knees, muttering under his breath. "A proud show," he said angrily, but was silenced by the sharp reminder of a spear point in his back.
"You'd best keep silent," Borosa said, kneeling next to him. "The High Prince will have little mercy for traitors."
"Advice from another traitor? Ha! I will not beg for mercy from a half-naked savage, a barbaric animal who--" He never finished. The business end of saddle knife was pressed firmly against his throat, banishing the last of his words.
The eight bearers slowly lowered Assur to the floor and once he had stepped off, he sat down on the Falcon Throne set on the dais, draped with more of the immaculate white hide.
"You may rise," he said quietly, "but for you." He indicated Kazan and Borosa.
Almost leisurely, Assur stood and faced the terrified court.
"All of you are here to stand witness to disgrace," Assur began, his deep voice ringing with authority. "There is no word to accurately describe my anger. The traitorous activities of a lawless and greedy prince has brought two provinces to the brink of destruction, as well as the death of a rightful heir. For three hundred sunturns, you have been allowed free rein, to govern your province as you saw fit. The only condition ever demanded of you was to obey my Will and keep my peace. No agent of my house has infringed on your right of self-rule. But there have been injustices against you and I have seen the bitter oppression for myself." He paused, leveling his ferocious gaze on his frightened subjects.
"My Will shall be obeyed; there will be order in the Eastern Provinces."
He sat down in the white-draped throne, resting the spear across his knees. "And now to the problem of Riehl. The rightful heir is the Princess Kitarisa, but she is dead. Bring Raldan Mar'Kess to me."
Surprise rippled through the hall as an equally astonished Mar'Kess stepped forward and dropped to one knee before him.
"You have proven yourself worthy, both on the battlefield and in the matter of my own life. You are fit to govern and to lead. My Will is that you be made Prime Governor of Riehl and Gorendt until such time as a royal successor is named. You will swear fealty to me now, Raldan Mar'Kess, if you accept."
Mar'Kess struggled to speak, but finally lifted his head.
"I so swear, Your Highness, with my life," he said solemnly. "My oaths and bonds are yours."
Assur nodded and offered one of his rare smiles. He placed a firm hand on Mar'Kess' shoulder and bade him to stand. "You will stay here by me," he said, indicating Mar'Kess should stand between him and Achad.
"Bring the Princess Dahsmahl and Commander Borosa."
From the back of the great hall, a tall woman, soberly attired in deepest violet, her black hair coifed under a rich headdress and veil, approached the Falcon Throne with measured, graceful steps. At the base of the dais, she knelt, hands clasped before her.
"I have heard private testimony from the Princess Dahsmahl and find no fault in her. She has acted in obedience to her father, Prince Dahka and to Prince Kazan. She is exonerated of any wrong doing and I release her to return to her home, but with this warning: agents of my house shall be posted within Maretstan to watch Prince Dahka. If I learn of the slightest indication of betrayal, I shall not hesitate to seek retaliation."
Princess Dahsmahl looked up and nodded. His meaning was clear. Assur would not tolerate any more of her father's foolishness.
"You are merciful, Great Lord and I shall convey your wishes to my father as soon as I return. And I thank you for not allowing the marriage between Prince Alor and myself to take place."
He motioned for her to stand. "I would not ask a loyal subject to marry the son of a traitor. You are free Dahsmahl, to marry who you wish, but I will warn you too: marry wisely."
Assur pulled a document from his sleeve, sealed and ribboned in his colors. He bent toward the princess so no one else would hear him.
"This is my Directive and Will, Princess, which you will take to Dahka. See that he gets it and obeys it." He handed the document to her.
Dahsmahl bowed again and took a respectful step back, while Assur turned his attentions to Borosa, still kneeling before him. He signaled Kuurus to come forward, bringing something held in his hands.
"Commander Borosa, you have spoken truthfully as well as fighting courageously even for a cause you knew was wrong. You are released, but with certain conditions. Since you are greatly respected by your own warriors I will allow you to return to Maretstan as their Field Commander. However, upon your arrival, you will be reduced in rank to Lead Captain for two sunturns as your punishment for taking arms a
gainst me. You may petition me after that time to be restored to your former rank, but again as I have warned your princess, your movements shall be watched. Should I be told of any traitorous activities on your part, you will be punished and there will be no mercy."
Assur nodded to Borosa's guards to release him from the chains and then for Borosa to stand up.
"I am returning your sword to you. You are not allowed to throw yourself upon it. That is my Will. You will carry it and restore honor to your name."
Borosa took the sword and immediately went down again on one knee. "You are merciful and just, Great Lord. I hereby swear and reaffirm my loyalties and all my oaths and bonds to you. Verlian has blessed me and I thank Her for your mercy."
Assur nodded. "You may go now."
Both Dahsmahl and Borosa bowed and swiftly left the great hall, eager to be homeward bound.
Assur signaled to the attending Siarsi standing on either side of their prisoner and sat down again on the Falcon Throne.
Kazan was jerked to his feet and dragged like a sack of meal across the floor where he was shoved on his knees at the base of Assur's dais.
"Read the accusations."
There was a rustling of papers and a shifting of feet as the court scribe, nearly paralyzed with terror, approached the platform. He cleared his throat and held up the papers in trembling hands.
"In the Sunturn of 738, the Tenth Sunturn of Your Reign
May Verlian Give..."
Assur waved his hand ordering the poor scribe to dispense with the formalities.
"We find the accused, Kazan dar Baen, Prince of Gorendt guilty of the following:
"The first: Willfully conspiring to usurp, overthrow, and cause harm to Our Person for the purpose of self-gain and the total annihilation of Talesia."
"The second: to empower, enthrone and elevate your son, by name of Alor, to the Falcon Throne of Riehl without our consent, approval, or by issue of petition, or by counsel and consent of the Council Circle of Riehl."
"The third: that you did willfully torture, punish, and cause the ultimate death of your own natural daughter, the true heir to Riehl, the Princess Kitarisa."