I saw him standing outside his tent, watching the father who had forsaken him before he was even born approach, surrounded by guards in white enameled armor with great turquoise plumes in their helmets. The guards carried kite shields emblazoned with the device of the High Kings, a white unicorn at gaze on a turquoise field. Iceblade's mood was remote but turbulent as he looked upon his father's face for the first time, and I ached for the pain he hid deep within his breast. He would not show this man who never wanted him any vulnerability, whether it be anguish or joy. His face was implacable and expressionless.
The High King was tall and proud, unstooped by age in his late sixties. He wore no armor, just robes of turquoise and gold and a simple crown embossed with the crowned hare, showing his solemn and high sovereignty under the blessing of the Goddess. Turquoise was the color of the High Kings and Queens, from the time of Laren the family had a distinctive trait of turquoise eyes. Guin had those eyes, as had his uncle Edwald.
"You come bearing the banner of Deirdre of Vansheen," the High King said, indicating with distaste the fanged symbol Iceblade flew before his tent. "I find my city abandoned and surrounded by an army painted black. You've sent your messenger with my uncle's signet ring, to call me to treat with you, offering safe passage. I've come. Tell me what it is you want, and what you have done with Edwald."
The smallest sneer flitted across Iceblade's face, then the younger man gestured into his tent, to a table and chairs set up inside for the meeting. The two entered the tent, leaving their respective guards outside. The son poured wine from a decanter, then drank a small amount from each goblet to show it was safe. The father held the goblet his son handed him, staring at it; they both sat.
"You are surprised to see me," Iceblade said, impassively. "More surprises remain for you, though, my father." Guin stared at him with undisguised dismay. Iceblade's sneer briefly returned and fell away, his expression returning to flat, unnatural coldness. "You ask what has become of my great-uncle. He came to me two years ago and pledged his service to me. He brought with him your niece, Wandis, the mage, enchanted to his will by dark means. Edwald was killed recently, and your niece freed from her enslavement, though we hold her still. I'm afraid not enough of Edwald remained to bring you anything to entomb."
Guin absently set his goblet on the table without drinking any of it. Like his son, he betrayed no emotion on his face, though his trembling hand revealed his consternation.
"Who do you claim to be?" the High King demanded.
Iceblade's face tightened almost imperceptibly. "Oh, you know me well enough, Father. I am the offspring you abandoned at Vansheen. I am the child you gave over to an evil woman with the darkest rage in her heart. Today I stand before you the weapon of the Dark God, His blade of ice come to render justice. I hold all lands both east and south of Lalinth. Soon I will hold all of Dragon's Tooth."
"You-" Guin began, his face purple with anger.
"I come to offer you peace, if you'll meet my terms," Iceblade interrupted before his father could say anything more, his raspy voice growing colder though inside him I felt his rage grow hotter. "If not you and your entire family will be dead within days. I will slay them to the last child."
Guin stood, his mouth working, his blue-green eyes clouded with outrage. Iceblade stood as well, leaning forward over the table, his hands splayed on its surface. His eyes held his father's without blinking, intractable, inexorable.
"You will give me what is rightfully mine, Father. You will claim me and name me Heir Apparent, or I will simply take from you what belongs to me."
"You will never bear my name," Guin hissed at last. "You are as foul as the woman from which you sprang, and you will never be known as my issue."
Iceblade straightened, laughing. "You have denied your own flesh out of egotism and shame. You have signed the death warrant of your own family, your pretty wife and the children you share with her." Guin could not hear or would not hear the hidden anguish in Iceblade's laugh, though it was clear as the sky above to me.
"Vile, cold serpent," Guin said. "Do you slay me now under the flag of parley, or am I allowed to leave as I was promised? Are you as without honor as the creature who whelped you?" Iceblade stood silently, staring steadily and without visible emotion at the High King. Guin very nearly hid his fear under that biting, wintry gaze.
"You need not fear I will break my word. Unlike my father, I honor promises I have given."
"I made no promises to that woman. A dalliance is not a promise," Guin snapped.
"Ah, but the conception of a child is," Iceblade said, icily unruffled. "It is a promise to that child. That is what the priests of your Goddess tell you. You have turned your face from the Goddess, and She will turn Her face from you. Take this time to prepare your family for what you have brought upon them. Go safely back into your palace, though it be the last time you do so."
The vision slipped away. I wondered if Tirk had felt my presence at the meeting, but doubted it. There had been too much going on inside of him to be aware of me. As a very small child there had been times he'd believed his father would come and rescue him, punish his mother for the things she'd inflicted upon her own son. But Guin had never come, had never had any intention of coming, had erased his bastard child from his mind as if the child had never existed. When Tirk was three, his mother had slain his dearly loved nursemaid in front of him to teach him not to love anyone. The little boy had wept tears of grief and rage, threatening Deirdre with telling his father what she had done. Deirdre had laughed, telling her son that no one cared for him, that his father cared even less, that only Deirdre would ever look out for him.
I grew up hearing only tales of the High King's just rule, of his courage in battle, of his strength tempered by his fine compassion. Troubadours and poets told of his romantic love for his barren first wife, High Queen Ostha, a woman who died tragically young, whom he mourned for more than two decades before taking another wife. Every adult and child old enough to understand here in Dragon's Tooth all knew the tale of how he had won the hand of the "new" High Queen, Hyndla, by battling the Wraith of the Broken Sun. The Guin I knew, the Guin of rumor and legend, was a demigod to his people.
That Guin was not who I saw anymore. Perhaps he had existed, perhaps in some way he still did, or perhaps he was invented wholly by a people who wanted their High King to be such a man. In my eyes, instead of Guin the demigod, there stood a man who would leave a helpless infant in the clutches of a deranged fiend hellbent on destroying anyone who came within her circle. There stood a man who never once thought of the small child who so longed for his father's love, and if he did think of his first son, thought of him with repugnance based solely upon the child's mother. I hated Guin with a new, abiding passion. He had created Iceblade by his absence as surely as Deirdre had by her presence. I realized that I did not care if Iceblade killed his father, though it didn't change my duty. Whether Guin died or not, Iceblade had to be stopped – the death of his father would not end the destruction he would bring, not by even a small measure.
While I had lacked a father's love, knowing no father of my own, I had never doubted my mother's. She had been as steady and sure in my life as the rising sun. I may have wished to know a father, but I had not needed it. My childhood happiness had not depended on it -I had a mother who loved me. The child Tirk had nothing.
I felt the moment the battle was joined. Guin not only took to the field, but brought his seventeen year old son, Prince Gymir with him. Prince Gymir, the recognized Heir Apparent, was as tall as his father, with light brown hair nearly as long as Iceblade's. His eyes were as blue as his mother's – Queen Hyndla was known for eyes as clear and deep as the purest sapphire. Like his father, Gymir stood proudly and fearlessly to defend his family, but unlike his father I sensed in him an unbending, steadfast sense of honor. He would have been a fine king, if only Guin hadn't brought him onto the battlefield this day.
Once again I was lent the eyes of a Savanne,
flying over the battlefield. This way I was able to watch what happened without my physical body falling unconscious. I saw the rush and fall, ebb and flow of both armies over the fields and hills outside Lalinth. The king's army wore white painted armor or white tabards over their clothing, they outnumbered by half again Iceblade's soldiers.
It was no matter. By evening the crows army had cut through the middle of Guin's army, right to the heart of them, Guin himself and Prince Gymir. Gymir fell in battle, Tirith's sword crushing his helmet and killing him instantly. Iceblade stopped his brother with a sharp word when Tirith would have wrecked the body with his sword.
Guin was captured and forced to kneel before his wrathful son, his helmet removed. Without a word, without offering Guin the chance to speak, Iceblade raised his sword and hacked Guin's head from his shoulders. Iceblade ordered the bodies of his father and his half-brother carried back to the top of the hill where his camp lay, and laid out with honor. Both armies separated as night fell.
I gave my attention back to my own army, shouting for Selas. The old man came running to hear what news I had.
"Guin is laid out," I said. Mournfully I added, "And his son, the Prince Gymir, beloved of the Goddess, beside him." Selas bowed his head.
"I will tell the others," he said.
I returned to the Savanne only to see a cloud of ravens descend upon Iceblade's camp. Ravens, heralds and defenders of the Dark God, covered the camp by the hundreds. They would have their bellies filled on the battlefield, and I knew they would fight the next day. The Savanne lending me its eyes wheeled around and loosed a shrill cry, attracting the attention of ravens on the ground. As the ravens rose into the sky to give chase, the Savanne gave a laughing call and fled, pausing only to taunt its pursuers. It took its sight back for itself and I could see no more of what happened to it.
I slid off the back of the wagon, coming part-way out of the channeling haze to seek Selas out.
"The ravens have arrived to meet the army of the Goddess in battle," I told him. "They will fly at us and attempt to injure us or disorient us. But the Savanne will be there in numbers as well, to lend their assistance. Tell everyone not to panic over the ravens, but keep their heads, and the Savanne will drive the ravens from the field." Selas nodded curtly and set trusted aides to work carrying the news. I went to Nefen to warn him to keep Ruck close until the ravens had been chased from the field.
"I will do so," Nefen said. "If you need me," he added gravely, "Just call me like you did at Remanil Castle, and I will be there."
I nodded stiffly, then ran back to the wagon, to give myself completely over to the energy again. This close to Iceblade, to his body and his voice, his face, his eyes, his hands and his mouth, I could not bear even the thought of someone else's love. He was the only thing I wanted, and I wanted him with a lust I hadn't known I was capable of. My body betrayed me, my belly was hot and aching, my breasts heavy and tingling. Soon, every beat of my heart said. Soon, soon. There was no virgin's fear; I knew that if there was pain, it would be only momentary and lost in a haze of pleasure. Shuddering, I fought to wipe from my mind the carnal images my thoughts were calling up, knowing he felt every image, every fantasy that filled my head, the same as I felt his.
I had no need for sleep, so I would not go to him tonight, our last night before. The pain of missing him nearly caused me to weep, but I steeled myself as best I could. Do not disgrace the people of Dragon's Tooth, I told myself. You must not give in to your shameful craving for the monster who wrought this devastation.
The sun rose again, bringing the energy more easily to my hand. Soon, the beat of my heart continued its song of anticipation, soon, and it was true; painfully, inexorably true.
I wondered what things may have turned out like if crucial events had happened differently. If Guin had taken his son from Deirdre, would we have ever met? But why would we, a prince and a field worker? Would we have felt this way without the mantles cast upon us? Would he have come to the fields of Berowalt, his heart whole and his voice unmarred, and seen me there dirty, sweaty and barefoot, and still desired me, still pursued me with undeterred passion? Of course not. We had never been meant to be, not in any sense I could ever hold on to.
Chapter 16
Lalinth
The time had come. My army reached the hills of Lalinth, on the other side of the picturesque Laren's Lake; with the island in the center where legend told us Laren herself was laid to rest. Below us we could see the High King's army locked in a losing battle with the crows army, under the obliviously bright mid-morning sun. They fought to save the High Queen and the two remaining royal children, High Prince Gunnolf and six year old High Princess Adora. Selas shouted orders and the companies moved to do his bidding. Within minutes of arriving on the shores of Laren's Lake our small army rushed into battle, to the rescue of the High King's soldiers. My whole being was alive with conflicting purpose and awareness that somewhere on this field was Iceblade, awaiting his bride, awaiting me.
Wyntan, wearing an odd conical hat-like helm that did not rub his stitches, took his company around the lake the long way. Samar and Wyclif followed him. The rest of us attacked around the lake to the northern side, a shorter run than the others were taking. My honor guard surrounded me protectively, allowing me enough space to hurl my mace should the opportunity arise. Fiona and her helpers set up their tents on the side of the lake we had arrived at, using the lake to provide some protection from any loose crow soldiers. Gronwon and Wind went with Felan and Hesta, calling up a tall wall with a walkway the archers could stand on for a good vantage point, their Gift empowered by Galiena's own Song as it flowed through me.
The crow soldiers turned their attention to my army immediately, searching for me, looking for the Chosen's Armor. To hinder them, I wore a dark blue robe over my armor that covered me neck to wrists to ankles, hooded so it disguised my helm. Ravens wheeled and dove for my soldiers, driving some down onto the ground for fear of having their eyes pecked out. My archers loosed into the swirling black cloud of feathers and sharp, vicious beaks.
I felt some of my soldiers fall, unable to fight off crow soldiers and the ravens at the same time. Lifting my mace I hurled into the ravens, using its impact against one bird to provide me with enough pinpointed concussion to blast a dozen out of the sky.
"Behold!" I shouted in the most booming voice I could muster. "The Savanne come! The Heralds of the Goddess will hold off the ravens! Turn your metal to the crows army!" The bright blue and yellow birds – hundreds, perhaps a thousand, of them - swept in from the east, shining in the sunlight, and tore into the ravens. The great black birds shrieked in anger, turning almost as one to engage the Savanne in brutal aerial combat over the Lalinth battlefield.
Ceilan, standing upon the archers' wall, called lightning down upon the far edge of the crows army in a spectacular and terrible display. Within minutes he had decimated the back edge, within those same minutes he was felled by crows army archers, tumbling back off the wall. I could not tell if he still lived when two of my soldiers hauled him off the field.
An hour passed, and another, bloody, fierce, and fast. My army fought back the crow soldiers, who were now pinned between the High King's soldiers and the two arms of my soldiers. Our numbers were nearly even, though the crow soldiers were more battle hardened. We battled under the brilliant spring sun, unable to drive each other off the field. I pointed my mace and let it fly like I had back at Oerlock, but this time I learned from hitting the ravens and the force of the mace hitting one person was felt by several, knocking them over if not seriously injuring them. At least this way my soldiers had an opportunity to move in and finish them while they lay helpless. However, hurling the mace alerted the enemy to exactly where I was. The crow soldiers speared into our army, heading for me, and my soldiers closed ranks around me, cutting off any opportunity to hurl my mace. I had no stool to stand on to see over my guards, but I found I could close my eyes and call upon the eyes of the Savann
e to see the battle.
I found Iceblade on the field and fled from the sight of him, nearly overcome by a wanton desire that threatened to drop me to my knees there in the middle of my soldiers. Instead I searched out my friends, to see how they fared, to see if I could help somehow.
Declan was wounded, but not badly enough to force him off the field. He and his company was hard-pressed, and he'd already lost nearly a quarter of his soldiers. In his mind I could hear resounding over and over again the thought of our talk as we left Reckonwood – that he would return to his love, that they would bear a child. This thought kept him iron-willed and fast on his feet.
Wyclif and his party were spread out across the battlefield, putting themselves where ever they saw others fall, to fill in the ranks. His people fought sharp-faced and dirty, kicking, biting, punching and swiping with their feet as well as using their weapons, mostly short, swift swords. No unprotected crow soldier groin was safe from them.
Nefen's company was side by side with Selas', the two held back the crows army from getting any closer to me. Nefen was sure and unafraid in combat, swinging and bashing with his weapon. Raven's Beak punctured even steel armor with barely a hindrance to its busy pace. The nobleman also employed his buckler-type shield as much as a weapon as a protection, smashing it into crow soldiers, stunning them long enough to finish them with his deadly and unusual weapon. Selas was in his element, laying back and forth with his axe, shouting insults and taunts, a look of near delight in his eyes.
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