“You would have me transgress against the word of a Shard God?” The cardinal asked sharply, eyes narrowing as he turned back toward him for just a moment. “A millennia of loyal service wouldn’t justify an act of heresy, Brother Silas… you of all people should know that…!”
“But… but what’s to become of me…?”
“Brother…” De Lisle began tiredly, turning his back on the old man as if he were already forgotten and muttering an unfamiliar but exceptionally fitting phrase he’d heard earlier “…which part of that is my problem…? The Shard Gods have spoken…” he continued, this time speaking to Percy as he strode forward and pressed the pendant into her unsuspecting hand without warning. “This is yours… for now…” he added, leaning in close as Silas released a soft wail of despair. “Serve me well – serve the Shard well – and you will be rewarded. Failure will bring you more pain that you could imagine. Are we clear…?”
“Completely…” She answered in an instant, the coldness of her tone in stark contrast to the fire of excitement that now shone in her eyes. “What about him…?” She asked, already knowing the answer as she threw a faint nod in the old man’s direction.
“He’s yours… do with him as you will…” The cardinal answered bluntly, Silas definitely forgotten now as he walked away without another thought.
“Sweetie…” Percy began, turning toward a cowering Silas and flashing a predatory smile “…this is going to hurt you way more than it’s gonna hurt me…” The old man screamed as she advanced toward him, the blue-white glow of Dragonfire flaring around her clenched right fist.
“A word, Your Majesty…” De Lisle growled, dragging Harald’s attention from the spectacle momentarily. “I think we need to discuss how best to proceed regarding the princess and this ‘witch’ of hers…”
“Aye, cardinal…” the king snapped curtly in return, barely able to take his eyes away for more than a second or two. “I’d welcome any suggestion at this point…”
Even Harald flinched in that moment as Silas released another shriek of fear and pain that was abruptly and quite brutally cut short.
XIX
Last Light
Bad news had travelled as quickly in that world as is does in any other, and the keep at Cadle was already in chaos by the time they’d rode through the main gates in the evening of the day after the battle at Stewpot Road. Many nobles, merchants and others of the middle class wealthy enough to own their own transport had already evacuated, prepared to take their chances along the winding, mountain passes of the Bolivar Road as it took them west to the Burnii Crossroads.
Most of that first night and much of the next morning was lost to sleep as they all took the opportunity to get their first decent rest in quite a while. Drained beyond mere physical exhaustion, Nev had slept well into the second afternoon and the sun was already well on its way toward the western horizon as she’d finally opened her eyes, staring dazedly at the tarred thatch of the roof above. A moment’s blank fuzziness in those few seconds after waking was quickly replaced by shock and adrenalin as memories of the day before came flooding back.
“The princess…!” She exclaimed, sitting bolt upright in bed, her chest heaving with fearful gasps.
“She’s all right…” Godfrey assured with a faint smile, mostly managing to hide the relief that washed over him as she’d first opened her eyes. “We’re all fine… thanks to you…”
“Oh… my… God...!” She breathed emphatically as she remembered the part she herself had played in the battle. “Did I actually do all that…? How did I actually do all that…?”
“I gave up wondering that a while ago…” he shrugged, smiling faintly, “…and yes, you did do all that. Never seen anything like it my entire life; never seen a brother manage anything even close…”
“The crystal…!” She blurted, lifting her left hand almost in reflex as if the pendant might still be wrapped about her wrist.
“On the table beside the bed…” he reassured, nodding to her left. Turning her head in that direction, she found both the Shard crystal and her dragon pendant coiled beside each other on a ceramic plate that lay atop the small side table by the bed. “No one’s been game to touch it since we came in… to touch either of them…”
She took in the rest of the room as she self-consciously slipped both pendants over her head and made sure they were positioned property about her neck. The space was small and functional with a single window looking out across a large courtyard, the angle of the view clearly suggesting they were at least one or two storeys above ground level. Two narrow beds were the main feature, the other being unoccupied, along with a fireplace, a set of narrow shelves and a single dresser on the far side of the room accompanied by a free-standing mirror.
“How long have I…” she began, then stopped as her eyes came to rest on the shelves and she realised that they currently held all her clothing, neatly cleaned and folded, her sports bag placed on the floor below with the hilt of her katana poking out of the zipped-up opening. “My clothes…” She blurted, looking down for the first time and realising she was dressed in a plain cotton shift with a wide collar and loose sleeves to her elbows. “My clothes…!” She repeated, more urgently this time as she realised she was literally wearing nothing else beneath and fixed Godfrey with a glare that was equal parts fear and suspicion.
“You were unconscious when we arrived…” he replied quickly, raising his hands in supplication as his cheeks reddened faintly with embarrassment. “The princess… uh… the queen ordered a pair of handmaidens attend to you while your clothes were taken and cleaned.
“So… so – uh – how long have I been asleep…?” She finally asked, allowing most of the intensity to fade from her accusatory glare as she self-consciously drew the covers up about her chest.
“Maybe seventy-two hours, give or take…” he shrugged. “You collapsed straight after the thing you did with the cannonballs, and we’ve not been able to wake you since. The medic here was starting to worry you’d never wake up: that maybe the crystal had burned your mind.”
“I feel… fuzzy…” she stated slowly after much deliberation. “Like everything around me is a little out of focus and I have to strain my eyes in a weird way to see properly. “I remember the arrows… remember the cannonballs… the blood…” she added, grimacing as her stomach churned faintly over those gruesome memories.
“Here… a drink…” he suggested, rising quickly from his chair by her bedside and stepping across to a low table in the centre of the room, where a ceramic pitcher lay with three large, wooden mugs.
“There are some here who escaped Burnii…” he ventured, not sure if he wanted to know the truth but unable to hold back as he poured her some water and brought it back to the bed. “Some say they saw a bolt of lightning come out of the sky and destroy one of Harald’s ships… one that was firing its cannon at something inland…”
“That… that was Thunderbolt…” she confirmed with a vague nod as she sipped at the mug, her gaze unfocussed now as she recalled more of what had happened. “I remember the ship… remember seeing its name on the bow… remember imagining the metal heating up… the gunpowder exploding…”
“Dragonfall take me…” Godfrey breathed softly, again fighting an unconscious urge to lift his fingers to his forehead in the Sign of the Shard. “How…?” He managed eventually. “How are you able to do all this? Even Randwick claims he’s never seen the like of it, and the queen says she thought he’d seen everything! How is it possible that you – who’ve never even heard of a Shard crystal until a few nights ago, let alone ever held one – can do things even The Brotherhood can’t explain…?”
“I… I don’t know…” she answered finally, having thought hard about the question for some time. “After Percy showed me how to do it that first time, aboard Rapier, it just seems to… I dunno… happen…? I think about what I want to do and the crystal just… ‘makes it happen’. After the king died… after Lester… I
was angry… enraged. Before then, I’d been afraid to let the power in… afraid what might happen it I let it take control.” She took another sip, her hands shaking faintly. “I guess we found out…”
“I’ve never seen anyone swing blade than fast…”
“I could feel it flowing through me; following my commands, but at the same time guiding and enhancing my movements…” she gave a grunt of frustration, struggling to find a way to explain what she’d felt. “God, this would be so much easier to explain to a Star Wars geek…” she added softly, almost managing a wry smile as she fell back onto the pillows and stared up at the ceiling once more.
“Don’t care how it happens…” Godfrey shrugged, coming to a very pragmatic decision regarding things he knew he was unlikely to understand any time soon. “Don’t care why it happens… all I know is, whatever you did saved all our lives, and not for the first time. Call it Dragonfire… call it ‘majik’… whatever it is, what worries me most is what price you had to pay to tap into this power. There’s always a price – that much is clear – and this time it knocked you out for more than three days!”
“There wasn’t any choice…” Nev replied quickly, lifting herself up onto her elbows once more as a wave of inexplicable guilt swept over her. “There were just too many of them for us to fight on our own!”
“I know that…!” He answered sharply, body language making it clear it wasn’t her he was angry with. “I know that, but that doesn’t make things any easier! I think that’s the worst part about it: that without you – without this power you’re somehow able to draw on – we’d have been completely helpless. What happens next time… or the time after that…? Are you out for four days afterward… five… a week…? Maybe…” he faltered, his voice almost cracking with a depth of emotion Nev had never expected “…maybe, next time you don’t wake up at all… ever…”
“I… I – !”
Completely flustered and no longer knowing what to think, any answer Nev might’ve given was cut short as there was a sharp knock at the door on the opposite side of the room followed immediately by the appearance of Randwick’s face as he opened it and poked his head in.
“Ah, lass… you’re awake! You’ve no idea how happy I am to see that! We’ve a great deal to discuss, all of us... the queen particularly wants to speak to you… but we’ll come to that when you’ve had a chance to get yourself dressed and get a bite to eat. Right now, I’m here for the lad…” He turned his attention toward Godfrey now. “Best get yerself out and about too, fella: Madam Boniface has arrived and I thought it best she speak to you before anyone else…”
“Gods on high… already…?” The boy blurted, leaping to his feet as a sudden wave of nervous fear washed through him.
“Aye, lad… already; and I’ve made sure no one’s spoken to her yet. It’s a raw deal for ye, but I know the Osterman’s code well enough to know you’d want to be the one to tell her, whether you want to do it or not.”
“I – uh…” Godfrey stammered, hugely conflicted now between honour and the magnitude of what was required of him. “I’ll be out directly. Much as I’m not looking forward to it, it should be me all the same…”
“Good lad…” Randwick nodded approvingly. “She’s waiting in the servants’ chapel, ‘round back near the ice well…” He grimaced. “Not a long walk from there, at least. I’ll be in the main hall afterward, if you’ve need of counsel.”
“You have my thanks, sir...”
“And you, mine…” The old man nodded in return, then turning to Nev and adding: “Milady…” by way of farewell before closing the door and striding off along the hallway beyond, boots ringing faintly on the stone.
“Who is it? Who do you need to see?” Nev asked, easily picking up the discomfort he was now displaying.
“It’s Astrid: Lester’s ma…” he explained, still staring at the closed doorway with fists balled tightly at his sides. “They must’ve found her among the peasants fleeing and brought her here. Someone has to tell her what’s happened, and I was his mentor…”
“I’ll come with you…” she declared without hesitation, moving to throw the covers off then remembering at the last moment her current dress – or lack thereof “…just as soon as I can get dressed.”
“The duty falls to me…” he stated sadly, turning to stare at her with obvious pain in his eyes and tone.
“And I’m going to be right there with you when you do…” Nev countered firmly, not about to accept any argument. “Now get out while I put some clothes on!”
The servants’ chapel, while decorated far more plainly and inexpensively than its nobleman’s counterpart, was nevertheless far larger in actual area, the size necessary to accommodate the legion of maids, carpenters, groundsmen, guards and other hard-working ‘ordinary’ folk kept on staff to ensure the smooth running of the fortress’ daily operations. Seats for at least five hundred filled almost endless rows on either side of the central aisle and even then there were usually two services performed on any given Sunday evening. As was the case with the smaller and more luxurious Royal Chapel, the one constant was another depiction of Cleansing: The Coming of the Night Dragons, this time a grand tapestry hung on the back wall, reaching all the way to the floor.
A simple structure of concrete, brick and iron, it was almost entirely empty now as Godfrey entered, Nev following close behind and now dressed in her original suede skirt and jacket, matching blouse and, for added warmth against the cool evening, the green cloak she’d been given on the first night of her arrival. As they stood at the main entrance and looked straight down the main aisle toward the small wooden pulpit at the far end, there was just one other person waiting inside.
Astrid Boniface looked to be in her early sixties, although Nev wondered how much younger the woman might actually be considering she’d undoubtedly experienced a far harder life than anything Nev had experienced back in her world. Short and stocky, her broad, weathered features were capped by a thick shock of once-red hair that had mostly faded to silver-grey, all tied down beneath a large scarf of plain white. Standing not far from the central dais, she turned toward them as they approached and both could see the streaks of tears on her face.
“He’s gone, ain’t he, Master Westacre…” she moaned softly, the words more a statement than a question as they drew near. “Cheeky little sod never would stray more ‘n six feet from y’ unless he was sick or dead, and it ain’t the infirmary they’ve brought me to…”
“I’m sorry, missus…” Godfrey croaked thickly, bowing his head as he reached out and took her wrinkled hands in his. “T’were the heat of battle… I weren’t fast enough t’ save him. Silly bugger never would do what he was told…”
“Don’t blame yerself, young’un…” She shook her head jerkily, shaking from emotion as she reached out and laid an unsteady hand on his shoulder. “He’d a’ never been with ye in the first place if I hadn’t turned him away… me own stupid fault and no one else’s.”
“Had he not been with us yesterday, good lady, I would not be here now…”
All turned at that completely unexpected voice to find Charleroi standing at the chapel entry, Randwick and William close behind her as escort.
“Your Majesty…!” Astrid exclaimed, almost overwhelmed with shock as she instantly sunk to her knees and lowered her eyes to the ground out of respect for the new queen.
“Your son saved my life, Mother Boniface…” She continued, walking slowly down the main aisle toward them in a flowing gown of dark blue cloth and simple design. “…saved all of us in our moment of greatest need…”
“…L-Lester…?”
“Your son is a hero of Huon, and he shall be remembered for it…” she continued, as both Nev and Godfrey pulled back to let her through. “Rise now, madam…” she added, reaching out to take Astrid’s hands reluctantly in hers and guide the old women to her feet. “We’re friends here, all: no need to kneel when you’ve already given so much.”
> “I abandoned him, Your Majesty…” the old woman croaked softly, tears streaming down her face now as Charleroi – standing at least a half-head taller – drew her in to a comforting embrace without hesitation. “I turned him out in my madness and grief, when he was all I had left in the world…”
“He loved you very much,” Nev ventured then, her heart breaking as she saw the pain there in the eyes that stared back at her over the queen’s shoulder. “Spoke about you just a few days ago, and anyone could see how much he still missed you…” she continued, thinking back over the discussion aboard Sea Skimmer that seemed an eon past now.
“We all carry with us the mistakes we make in this life, madam…” The queen murmured, tears in her eyes now too. “Things not done… words left unsaid until far too late. They’ll haunt you by and by, at quiet times when you least expect it, but think not on them now: everything that happened before played its part in bringing your son to me these three days hence, and when I needed him – when Huon needed him – he didn’t falter. I owe him my life, and I promise you the kingdom shall know of it. Long after this Blackwatch scourge is gone from our land, songs will be sung of how Squire Boniface saved the life of a queen.”
“You – you’re too kind, Your Majesty…”
“The honour is mine…” Charleroi countered quickly, hiding her nervousness over what next needed to be asked. “Now… if it’s your wish – and only if it’s your wish – it would also be my honour to escort you to the ice house so that you might pay him your last respects…”
“He – he’s here…?”
“How could we have left him behind?” The queen croaked, voice thick with emotion as she thought of her own father’s body, lying beside Lester’s in that dark, cold resting place. “We’ve tended to him best we can, but it’s your choice and yours alone whether you wish to see him before we send him to Dragonfall.”
“I – I think it best that I do, ma’am…” Astrid decided reluctantly, clearly torn between the two options as she drew back slightly. “Much as it sickens me to think of him lying there, I owe him that at least… you’ll come with me, won’t you, Master Westacre?” She added, turning toward Godfrey with pleading eyes. “You always looked out for him… the brother he never had. I know he’d want you to be there…”
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