The Pentacle War: Book One - Hearts In Cups

by Candace Gylgayton

  "And to you Master Malvasius," she intoned wearily. When the link was completely severed, Rashara went to slump dejectedly in a chair. She had not thought that Malvasius would actively aid her, but she had hoped for more from him. Ciaran had taken a less than completely neutral step in suggesting that Colin work through Gervase Iscoed to gain the help of the Scholastium. All Malvasius was interested in was her personal experience with a House Power, first through Niall and now through Blaise. She found herself growing annoyed with what she perceived as Malvasius' attitude of non-reciprocity. He was free to use her to find out what he wished to know, but she was not to ask him for the help that she wanted.

  Standing up, she prowled about the room, her hands holding her arms tightly to her body, as she considered her dilemma. There was a chance that Colin would never make it to Iscoed. He could be lost at sea or fall victim to corsairs from the Scillarin Isles. However, it was also reasonable to assume that he might make it safely to Iscoed, convince Gervase and return to gain the support of the Scholastium. If Niall succeeded in taking and holding both Creon and Langstraad, they might be able to ward off the mage masters by argument of the right of possession. If they were still engaged in civil war though, things might be very different. Rashara knew the power that the mage masters commanded and she was daunted by the idea of openly opposing them. Perhaps all of the Heads of the Great Houses standing together might match them, but what could she alone, even with the aid of Blaise and Niall, do to prevent the mage masters from forcing them out of power and installing that great idiot Gervase on the throne?

  For the remainder of the night, Rashara alternately walked and sat, trying to find a counter that would tip the scale of power in her direction. She came to the conclusion that even if Colin failed in his mission, she still had to find a way to best Niall once he had disposed of Branwilde of Creon. As the hours went by, the seed of an idea began to grow in her mind. At first she recoiled from it as if the serpent it might become lay before her. But the more she considered, the more seduced by it she became. Her years of study into arcane matters had revealed areas of power that existed outside the structure of space and time that held the world together. They were seldom tapped into since much skill and power were needed to grant access to them and the price for using them could be high. Rashara deemed that the stakes she was now playing for warranted a certain gamble on her side.

  Chapter 23

  A quick knock on the door followed by Griswold’s entrance brought the last of Ian's councilors into the room. The core of leadership that had formed between the principal members of the castle's staff met every morning here in a private room off the main hall of the keep to discuss the various problems being incurred by the siege. From the domestic staff came Squire Alaric and Dame Edwinna, and representing the military were Sir Griswold and Sir Owain. Since emerging from her self-imposed shell, Lady Angharad now attended these sessions as well, sitting self-consciously at Ian's side.

  Two days ago they had witnessed the strange spectacle put on by the young man whom Ian identified as Blaise, the newest Duke of Tuenth. At first, those watching from within the castle had been inclined to laugh at Blaise's antics, until he was carried away and the army dismounted and pulled back. Afterwards, survivors of the battle of Gannerly Vale told of the catastrophic methods employed by the enemy which demolished Lir’s forces and allowed Tuenth’s army to reach Lir and join with the army of the Inner Ward. The news brought uneasy looks to be exchanged between those within the castle.

  A new message from the enemy camp now compelled Ian to call for a second meeting with his staff within an hour of disbursing from their regular session. Ian surveyed the faces of this group of advisors noting with a certain humour that both Angharad and Edwinna wore the voluminous homespun aprons that they considered essential to their work of managing the castle, and that Griswold and Owain, in their high boots with their chests covered by chain-mail, over which the tabards displaying the Green Dragon of Langstraad were worn, nonchalantly laid their swords before them on the table. Only Alaric went bereft of any additional raiment.

  Ian raised his hand with the letter. "I have here another message from the Earl of the Inner Ward and the Duke of Tuenth, which I think you should all know about." He paused to consider the effect of his next words and decided to give a straightforward accounting. "I have been informed that Lady Idris ap Morna and her children are being held hostage in the enemy camp. Lord Blaise and the Earl of the Inner Ward areproposing an exchange: Idris and her children for Lady Angharad." His light, grey eyes raked the company.

  Beside him Angharad blanched at the pronouncement but stoically remained silent, trying very hard not to look at the others in the room. She knew in what high regard Lady Idris was held by those present, and imagined how unfavourable she must look by comparison. There was also the issue of the three children.

  Alaric cleared his throat. "Does the message indicate the fate of the hostages should we refuse?"

  "It says that their lives will be forfeit," Ian replied tightly, "but I think that they are bluffing."

  Edwinna let out a cry at this news. "The children as well?" was all she could say. Everyone squirmed in their seats with discomfort.

  "Begging your lordship's pardon," Griswold spoke up. "But do you know why they want to make the exchange?"

  "I suspect that Blaise thinks it was Angharad who kept him from using his House Gift to knock the walls down," Ian said with a sigh.

  "And did you, your ladyship?" Griswold turned his steady eyes on Angharad.

  Slowly Angharad shook her head. "No, whatever checked him, it was not I," she whispered. She felt an abyss opening at her feet. It struck her as horribly unfair, that just as she had begun to feel a modicum of confidence and security, she was suddenly to be pitched into another dilemma wherein she was again nothing but a pawn. The hairs on the nape of her neck rose as the attention of all those present focused on her. Four prisoners for one; she almost heard the thought aloud.

  "No, Angharad had nothing to do with preventing Blaise from toppling our walls," Ian said, abruptly coming out of the thoughts into which he had wandered, during which he had barely heard Angharad's response, nor noted the eyes directed at her. As he glanced about the room, perceiving the import of what was going on, he deliberately reached out and took Angharad's hand in his own. Icy cold, he enfolded it protectively within the warmth of his own.

  "It was Castle Lir itself that resisted him," Ian explained authoritatively. "Remember that this castle is one of the oldest structures in all of the Pentarchy. Magic was used to build it, and I'm willing to bet that the magic that built it will preserve it."

  "I believe that you're right," Alaric mused aloud. "I remember Lady Hollin once telling me that there was a power actually residing in the stones themselves and that it was one of the reasons that the castle had never been breached. The castle was built before the coming of King Gryffyd and his children, and was a place of power even then." Both Griswold and Owain nodded their heads as Alaric's words evoked similar memories.

  "That may well be," Edwinna sniffed, "but it does not tell us what is to be done about poor Lady Idris and her children."

  Ian felt Angharad's hand jerk, as if she would pull it out of his grasp. Gently he pressed it, retaining his hold. "Well, the good thing is that we now know where she is. Our next goal must be to discover a way of rescuing her." With that, he fixed his eyes in turn on everyone in the room to ensure that what he said next would be understood by all. "Exchanging my wife for Idris and her children is completely out of the question, as I assume you all agree. However, the hostages must be freed, and I have gathered you together because I have devised a plan and I want your opinions on it.

  "Many years ago, I was taken up a secret tunnel that leads out of the castle and opens far up on the slopes of Cloud's Rest. From there, I think that a small band of foresters might make their way down to the enemy camp unobserved..."

  As Ian continued to outline his p
lan, Angharad sat beside him feeling distinctly vertiginous. In a few words, Ian had restored her sense of self-possession and she breathed more freely with the knowledge that she was not to be used again as a cat's-paw. Her hand remained in his and she gripped it in thanks. Without looking at her or halting his speech with Griswold, he returned the pressure in acknowledgment.

  "But must your lordship go? It seems to me that it is far too dangerous a mission to risk you on." Angharad found herself listening to Edwinna's distressed voice. With a start, she tuned more closely into what was being discussed.

  "It's his lordship's plan, so it's only fitting that his lordship have the fun," Griswold argued cheerfully.

  Alaric looked unhappy. "I fear that I must agree with Edwinna as to the risk. Still, it is your lordship's choice," was his resigned admission.

  "I am the only one here who seems to have ever been through this tunnel," Ian pointed out.

  "Couldn't you just lead the men through and return to the castle?" Edwinna tried once more.

  "I could, but I won't." Ian was firm. "Listen to me; up to now I have done nothing but administer this war from behind the castle walls. If I am to command, I must prove myself to the men who guard those walls, as well as to myself."

  "Aye, that's well enough said," Griswold agreed, nodding his head in Ian's direction. "I cannae go along wi' ye, but there are good fighters, mountain men, who can move like fey shadows and do as they're bid, to go wi' ye.

  "Arain is within the castle; he brought the remaining forces back from their defeat by the Duke of Tuenth. He knows these mountains better than anyone else. He'll be the man you need to take you down the mountain and into the camp without raising an alarm," Owain spoke up.

  Griswold seconded him. "A grand choice he is. 'Tis Arain who can find his way in the dark like a cat and make not half the noise."

  "I remember him; he's a good man. Owain, contact him and let him know of our plan," Ian charged. "We need to travel quickly and quietly, so the fewer men, the better. Eight men?" He looked to Griswold and Owain for approval. "Have him choose mountain men but do not let them know what is afoot until we are assembled later tonight."

  "One thing, m'lord," Griswold said scratching his beard. "There won't be many of ye, but t'will be lots of them. I'm thinkin' that a bit of a diversion might be helpful to ye."

  "And have you a particular diversion in mind?" Ian tilted his head and grinned at his swordmaster. He knew that the older man chafed at being left out of this foray but, even in his youth, stealth had never been his forte.

  "I was wonderin' if maybe her ladyship would be willin' to do a bit of her hocus-pocus and bring a little confusion to their camp?" He smiled encouragingly at a surprised Angharad.

  Before Ian could say anything, Angharad spoke. "If you think that I could be of any assistance, I would be more than happy to comply." A blush of colour tipped her ears and cheeks.

  "Are you sure?" Ian asked with concern.

  "Yes, quite," was her definitive answer.

  "Then I'll be comin' to fetch your ladyship in the wee hours of mornin'," Griswold said with a broad smile. Angharad nodded complacently.

  A reply was sent back to the commanders of the besieging armies indicating the need for more time, but with the promise of a definite answer by morning. Edwinna returned to her tasks within the keep, aided by a thoughtful and uncommunicative Angharad. Owain and Griswold went in search of Arain to enlist his aid for the rescue and to pick the remainder of the company. This left Ian, lantern in hand, descending into the depths of the castle's keep with Alaric at his side, to find the hidden door Holly had taken him through when they were children. There at the end of a wet, dirty corridor they found it: an iron bound wooden door barred on the inside. Once the existence of the door was confirmed, they returned to the keep, where Alaric suggested that Ian would do well to nap, for after dark there would be no time.

  Evening had fallen as Angharad sat in her bedchamber before a fire and fingered the strings of a small lute. All of her calluses had worn away, leaving fingertips that stung as she held the strings against the neck of the instrument with her left hand. The melody she plucked was an intricate one and it irked her when it did not sound the way she knew it should. There was a soft rap at her door as Moira stuck her head in and announced that Lord Ian wished a word with her, if it was convenient. Nodding that he should be admitted, Angharad rested the instrument against her chair as she stood to greet him.

  Dressed in the dark rough wool of a forester, his appearance was a marked change from the usual dandyish young lord. He grinned at her, doffing the brown leather cap he wore, and presented her with an elaborate bow.

  "I came to tell you that our band of rescuers is about to be off. Have you and Griswold worked out the arrangements for your part in tonight's activities?" He spoke in a light, bantering voice that was patently meant to reassure her.

  "Yes, Sir Griswold will come to fetch and escort me to the castle walls two hours before dawn," she recited. She dropped her eyes to where her hands played with a fold of her pale blue over-garment. To his eyes, it seemed that she had regressed once more into the fragile girl-child and he grew worried that she would be over-taxed by what she was being asked to do this night.

  Suddenly her blue-violet eyes were looking into his and they were not the eyes of a child. He swallowed and looked away, finding the unexpected rush of emotion that hit him to be far more intense than he felt capable of dealing with at that moment. To want a woman, even a particular woman, was not a new sensation for him. However, not only was this an inappropriate and inconvenient time for those feelings, but he was totally unsure of her response. That they had become friends during the last weeks was a major step for her, and he was unwilling to do anything that might jeopardize her current trust in him. Thinking it to be folly to stay any longer, he began to say good-bye when she stepped forward so that they were but a few inches apart and lifted her head, forcing him to look directly into her face.

  Angharad watched the confusion in Ian's eyes give way to understanding as he bent to kiss her. In that tight embrace they stood for the count of many heartbeats. Minds and pulses raced together as Ian kissed her with growing passion and felt her ardent response. At length, he raised his lips from hers and pulled her close to his chest, her hair tickling his face. At once he was terribly aware of the smell and silkiness of her hair threatening to undo his resolve.

  "I don't know how it has happened," he heard her say softly against his chest, "but I am in love with you, Ian de Medicat."

  The confession, spoken aloud, almost hurt him to hear it. In all his adventuring, many had told of liking, admiring and enjoying, but never, really, of loving him. Holly had loved him, he knew, and it had not been a love without passion, but it had been a love that neither of them could openly acknowledge nor fulfill. All too well, he knew that his various liaisons were simply fill-ins for the one he really wanted, and that they had known it as well. But this was a situation entirely new to him. Since the night that he had been summoned to Angharad's room after her ordeal in using the House Gift of Creon, a growing apperception of her had been overtaking him. Out of a mixture of friendship, protectiveness, admiration and sympathy had now sprung a physical desire. All of these emotions were now conspiring to push him head over heels into love with this girl.

  "And I with you," he sighed in resignation. "Damn the timing though!" At once, they were both laughing, the tension between them broken.

  Pulling her head back, Angharad fixed him with a mock-stern glance. "Now, don't go getting yourself hurt or captured to avoid coming back here."

  Touching her hair and tracing her brow with his forefinger, he replied wistfully, "I only wish that it were not necessary for me to go now."

  "I will be here when you return," Angharad consoled him.

  "And when I return," Ian's eyes glinted playfully, "I will take up where I am leaving."

  Angharad fought a catch in her throat. "Come back soon...my husb
and."

  "As soon as our task is done, my lady wife." Solemnly Ian lifted her hand and kissed the fingertips. Not entirely trusting himself to stay any longer, he bid farewell and left.

  Alone again in the room, Angharad's knees gave way and she collapsed into the pool of her skirts. A fever born of elation washed over her, only to be replaced by a chill when she remembered that he was venturing into the enemy's encampment virtually alone in the dead of night to find one hostage and her children amid several thousand armed soldiers.

  Surrounded by the walls made smooth ages ago by those who built this castle with the bones of the mountains, Ian led the nine men chosen for this raid. Beside him, the tall, lithe figure of the huntsman turned fighter, Arain, walked in silence. His men were equally noiseless as they followed Ian up the long climb.

  It had been many years since a young Ian had followed his headstrong cousin through the door and up the tunnel in the darkness. Hollin had brought torches that gutted and eventually died, forcing them to stumble blindly until they reached the door at the other end. After emerging in the late afternoon, high on the slopes of Cloud's Rest, they had negligently let the door close behind them, so that they had to climb back down the mountain to return to the castle. It had taken them all night and when they returned in the morning the castle had been in an uproar. When they told Hollin's parents what had happened, her mother had admonished them never to use the tunnel again and Lord Courant, her father, had made Ian take him to the entrance door in the keep and seen that it was closed and locked. No one else was apprised of the existence of the tunnel and no one had used it again, as far as he knew, until tonight.

  The sky was awash with stars when Ian pushed the door open and they breathed the cold, clean night air. By the night sky, Arain concluded that it was close to midnight and that they would have to move quickly in order to make it to the camp by the time Angharad was due to start her diversion. Alaric had accompanied them to the exit on the mountain and was to stay and keep the door open for their return. Alaric wished them luck as Arain, with Ian at his side, began the treacherous descent from the mountain's shoulders.