by JANRAE FRANK
"An admirable undertaking. Then you must know the parts that only our people know. The fireborn blood is strong in your line. As is the dragon blood among the royal line of the Waejontori. The dragon fire and the phoenix flame filled the night. When the battle ended Aurean had died and your ma'aram lay mortally wounded. But dying, she had fallen behind the Waejontori lines..." The lines in his face deepened then with pain and anguish. "Before we could break through..." He exhaled heavily. "One of their initiates had taken mortgiefan, the death gift, from her. Do you know what that means?"
Tamlestari paled, all the anger draining from her face, replaced first by horror and then outrage. "They raped her as she died," she said bluntly.
The old priest winced at the steel in her voice. "Damaging her soul ... draining a piece of her ... making the initiate more powerful." For just an instant tears seemed ready to form in his ancient eyes, then were gone as he recovered himself. "But when they came to prepare her for burial her body had turned to ashes."
"That much I know. Then even the ashes vanished. There is nothing buried in her grave."
"Then know the rest. Two of our people stole her body and left the ashes in its place. The surviving half of her soul rose again from the flames of Mt. Queleyus when I cast her body into them."
"My ma'aram is alive?"
"Yes." He patted Tamlestari's hand sympathetically. "But because of that initiate's theft, she can never take mortal form again."
"His name! The initiate's name!" Tamlestari demanded through gritted teeth, her hand dropping to her sword hilt, caressing it dangerously.
The question, gesture, and sound of her voice startled him. Tehmistoclus had expected her to ask about her ma'aram first. Truly this youth was made of steel. "Mephistis Coleth de Waejonan, Prince of Waejontor. A most powerful sa'necari."
"When I find him, he's dead," Tamlestari growled. "Now. Can I see her?"
"If you have the courage to climb the peaks around Mt. Queleyus you may even speak with her."
Tamlestari gave him a curt nod, rising from her chair and stalking out with the pride and threat of a young lion hunting.
It took the old priest nearly an hour and two glasses of potent liquor just to stop trembling: Tamlestari frightened him. The promise, if compromised, had not exactly been broken. But if Kalestari chose to tell her daughter everything that was within her rights. And if Kalestari did so then maybe the young woman could be dissuaded from her ill-conceived alliance with Aejystrys brye Rowan.
* * * *
"Now that I am convinced you love me, Margren..." Mephistis paused, watching her flinch. "It is time for you to cross the line. Tonight you will have mortgiefan."
Her face brightened at his final words. Mephistis smiled thinly. Clearly she thought he had intended to beat her again. That was very good. He had her nearly trained and always off guard as to whether it would be pleasure or punishment he dealt out.
Two drained bodies lay at their feet in his parlor. For the past two weeks he had allowed her to feed upon blood alone with only a little wine between meals. She was ready. He rose, extending his fist for her to place her hand upon and led her out as if she were a Waejontori woman and his property. Margren did so with a small swallow, accepting the humiliation that was intended. Despite it all, her eyes burned with eagerness. Soon she would cease to be human altogether.
"I have everything set up in the shrine for a ritual of hecatomb. We will feast on sacrifices and you will learn new things."
Isranon stood just outside the door in the corridor as Mephistis had ordered him to. He nodded at Margren with carefully schooled neutrality. Mephistis noted how weak and pale Isranon still looked. The prince would have preferred for the youth to be resting, but Isranon was stubborn and insisted upon being allowed to serve as soon as he could walk without collapsing.
"A rite is planned," Mephistis told Isranon, pausing for an instant. "Have the remains of our dinner removed and then do as you wish until we are finished."
"Yes, my prince."
Margren's lips inched up, showing her fangs and then subsided when her eyes met Mephistis' glance.
He nodded, and led her along the corridor to the Altar of Hecatomb. Mephistis had promised her that she would become one of the most powerful of all time. But he had lied. She would be powerful, yes. Perhaps even as great as Bodramet or Mephistis' brother, King Baaltrystan of Waejontor who ruled the remnants of free Waejontor from a castle hidden in unreachable mountains of the far north. But among the most? No, she interpreted that to mean nearly equal to himself and no one would ever be the equal of Mephistis. The Waejontori prince had taken a thousand times a thousand mortgiefan, many of them from foes of incredible power such as the fireborn warrior Kalestari Havenrain.
Mephistis had no peer. He was the paternal grandson of the most powerful banewitch of all time, Aurean the Golden, Queen of Waejontor, whom Kalestari had slain in the battle of Sharatier. Shintar, his sire, had beget him and three of his four brothers on Aevrina Coleth, the only known Sharani banewitch – there were others still undiscovered – who had in turn kyndied him and his brothers into the womb of Aurean more than doubling the necromantic power of his bloodline. His fourth and oldest brother, Baaltrystan, who now sat upon the Waejontori throne, was a product of incest between Shintar and his mother, Aurean. Of the four brothers, only Mephistis and Baaltrystan had been born sa'necari: a very rare thing, since most sa'necari were made not born. Estopholes, the middle brother, had been made sa'necari only a few years past; while Farendarc, the youngest brother, a duelist, was now dead, slain by Aejys Rowan last summer. Farendarc had been no loss: Mephistis felt nothing for any of his brothers.
One single act had placed Mephistis beyond all others in power. The Legacy of Waejonan, the dark magics that sustained Waejontor, passed from parent to child in unbroken succession through an act of mortgiefan perpetrated on the parent by the child. The power should have passed from Aurean to her son, Mephistis' father, Shintar. But Shintar had died before her. The power should then have passed to Baaltrystan. Mephistis, however, mounted the dying Aurean and stole the power for his own. One day he would mount his brother and ride him into death. Should the one who carried the Legacy ever perish by the arts of the lifemages, then Waejontor would perish also.
* * * *
The Mountains of Qua almost completely encircled the high meadows and plains of Vallimrah and many of the highest peaks were active volcanoes from which the great birds called fireborn drew magical sustenance. The largest volcano, Mt. Queleyus, had not been active in a decade and a lake now filled its crater. The volcanoes never erupted, for the fireborn drained their heat by bathing in the molten depths. Mountain ash, rowan and red Valdren laurel grew from Queleyus' steep side, sticking straight outward and then bending upward to catch the sun.
Three people climbed the mountain paths on foot. Laurelyanne led. They traveled slowly for Aejys' side bothered her and Tamlestari was still experiencing morning sickness. What should have taken only two days at most, took nearly five. For three days they had heard the cries and calls of the fireborn as they wheeled in the sky above them.
As dark came Laurelyanne decided to halt at a small cleft in the mountain's side. "It is not much farther to the shrine," she told them, "but I do not want one of us stepping off the side in the dark."
Aejys lowered herself down, using the staff. Pain and exhaustion etched deep lines in the lapsed paladin's face. Although she did not complain, her condition was evident to all. Tamlestari knelt beside her, took her wrist in hand and read her.
"That cracked rib does not belong climbing mountains," Tamlestari admonished her.
"So you've told me." Aejys pulled Tamlestari closer and kissed her. "I'm an old campaigner, Estari. I've climbed mountains with far greater wounds than this."
"And a cracked rib. That wolvesmon must have hit you hard."
Aejys sighed. "He did. Knocked me out of the saddle and into a tree. I felt like the blade when the smith puts her hammer to it."
Laurelyanne got a small fire started and put her little kettle on for tea.
"You both know what I will learn up there, don't you?" Tamlestari said.
Aejys and Laurelyanne looked at each other for a moment and Aejys said, "Yes. I think we do."
"Then tell me," Tamlestari said.
"It is not ours to tell, child," said the mage. She handed Tamlestari the first cup. They ate bread, cheese, and dried fruit.
* * * *
The shrine was a small stone building. Three priests lived there year round and kept a herd of goats. When the three myn arrived, one priest was sent to light the tall oil lamps before the seeing pool to signal that the fireborn were needed.
"One will come to us in the morning," a priest told her.
They could see one of the distant volcanoes spitting fire and ash. The fireborn would soon be bathing there to still it. The huge forms of the fireborn flew over them several times that day. The birds were almost as large as the great drakes, with hundred foot wingspans. Their wings were brilliant magenta shot through with gold, their bodies a deeper shade of red turning almost violet where it met the azure feathers of their bellies. Their crested heads were slender and elegant.
Tamlestari stretched out on her back in lush mountain grass and watched the fireborn fly overhead. "One of those is my ma'aram," she said in a distant, thoughtful voice. "All these years... I still cannot believe it."
"Nor I," said Aejys sitting beside her. "When Kalestari died, I wept. Both for her loss and what I feared it would do to our land. The Lionhawk was a brilliant general, but nothing compared to Kalestari. Many of us were appalled when the Saer'ajan banished her. We didn't know then it was a ploy to cover her quest for the Moonstone of Reyanon."
"And she returned in time to save the capital."
Aejys nodded. "And die." A great sadness entered her voice. "Too often the great ones buy our victories with their lives."
Tamlestari reached up and touched the corner of Aejys' eye, feeling a wetness there. "You are a great one, Aejys Rowan."
"No," Aejys said, "not I. I'm just a lapsed, pudding head paladin with her emotions too often on the surface these days."
"Tag calls you that. She isn't right, you know."
"Tag sees a lot deeper than most, my love. I was happy as a simple tavern owner. It's pudding head paladins that take on archenwyrms with a bag of fireworks."
"But you killed it."
"It wasn't me. It was Josh. Tag and I screwed up. We didn't get the bombs close enough to do the kind of damage we'd planned. Josh got drunk back at our camp, and then followed us. He got a bag of left over fireworks burning good, tied a long rope around it. Then while the wyrm was busy slamming me against the cave wall he wrapped the bundle around its neck. It exploded. Blew the wyrm's head off."
"That's why you take care of Josh, isn't it?"
"Yes," said Aejys, then laughed suddenly as she remembered it all. "The skull landed on top of me. For a moment I was swimming in wyrm brains. Gods! I never thought I would get the stench off! It took days and days of determined scrubbing! It didn't help that I had managed to break my fool leg when it slammed me either."
* * * *
The fireborn landed beside the seeing pool at the first hour of dawn. Tamlestari gasped sharply as its form shimmered and changed. In a moment a young mon stood before her in garments of gold and scarlet. His eyes were the color of flames and had no whites. The old priest bowed reverently.
"Lord Calain, the mortal daughter of the fireborn called Kalestari has come seeking her ma'aram's wisdom."
"This one?" he asked in severe tones, as he looked Tamlestari over.
"Yes, lord," Tamlestari said, "I carry a child and would have her advice concerning it. I – I thought she was dead."
"She will not be able to change as I have," he said. "Will that upset you?"
"No, lord, it is enough to know that she lives and can speak with me."
He stretched out his hand and grasped Tamlestari's. "Let us go inside and speak of this. Then I will have a better idea of what to say to Kalestari. She has only once agreed to speak with mortals. That was when the Valdren Queen herself came." He turned to the priest, "Do you have those sweet cakes you used to bake, Lameris?"
Lameris' old face split in a smile. "Always, Lord."
"Good! I will enjoy some. I have been away a long time, for there is evil growing again in the north and I was sent to learn of it. I missed your sweet cakes, for no one else has quite your knack."
They followed the fireborn back into the building. As they settled in at the priest's long table, Lameris went after cakes and wine.
"You should know that your ma'aram spent the first few years among us keening for her loss. Then for several years she spoke to no one, not even others of the fireborn. Now she has begun to be one of us. It might not be easy for her to see you. She could refuse to come."
Tamlestari could not conceal her disappointment and Calain patted her hand. "It might not be that bad. Tell me your story, everything you can think of."
So Tamlestari talked of her love for Aejys, of her childhood and her dreams, anything she could think of that might make her ma'aram come down and talk to her. When she finished, Calain smiled.
"Yes, there is much you two have to talk about. I will find her and ask her to come. If she will come it will be tomorrow at dawn. If she will not come, I will return at that time with her reasons."
* * * *
The next morning there were two fireborn beside the seeing pool. Calain took his mortal form, but the other remained unchanged. He came, indicating that only Tamlestari should approach. Then he had the others follow him inside. Aejys understood that Kalestari would wish to be alone with the daughter she had not seen in over ten years. But at the same time she felt saddened not to speak with her old friend.
It was nearly evening when Tamlestari returned. Her face had an odd, thoughtful look and she carried in her hand a talisman of a golden fireborn in flight.
Aejys went to her and slipped her arm around Tamlestari's shoulders. "Are you all right?"
Tamlestari nodded. "I know who I am. I know what is expected of me." She gave a very tiny smile and the impish light stole back into her eyes. "But ma'aram says to hold out as long as I can. Live my life on its own terms."
Lameris frowned. "That might not be wise, highness," he said. "There are things you must do for your people's sake."
"I agree," Calain said insistently. "I told your ma'aram as much."
"There are many things I need to learn and to experience – things that I will not find here, Lord Calain," Tamlestari replied, extending the amulet so that all could see it. "This is, as you should all recognize, Quadenlas. One of the three artifacts of Eldarion Havenrain. She has the other two. When my children... Aejys," Tamlestari looked up into the lapsed paladin's astonished face, "we're having twins. When the children are old enough to be brought to her I am to bring them. Then she will give me the sword, Quatarl. And when they come of age the shield, Quademerial. One of the children will need them. She showed me that in the seeing pool."
Aejys thought for a moment as her arms went around Tamlestari, drawing her close. She buried her face in the younger woman's hair as a chill ran down her spine. What did this mean? "Why? Why will our child need these things?"
"Because, if we do not stop Margren's lover, Mephistis Coleth de Waejonan now, our child will have to." Tamlestari pulled away with a pensive light in her green eyes. "Now I think we should start back."
"But it is nearly dark," protested Laurelyanne.
"Quadenlas will give us light," Tamlestari said, settling the chain over her head.
* * * *
They stayed two more days after Aejys and Tamlestari returned from Mt. Queleyus. Queen Magdarien met her great grandchild and found Tamlestari to be as stiff necked and willful as her ma'aram and grandmother had been. At Tamlestari's suggestio
n, Valdren messengers were sent to their people in Armaten bidding them be watchful on Laeoli's behalf. And a company of Valdren rangers assigned themselves to accompany Tamlestari to Rowanslea. Laurelyanne prepared to come also.
CHAPTER TWELVE. HUNTING THE HUNTERS
A suggestion of frost gilded the morning mist lying over the streets of Armaten as guardsmyn wrapped in heavy woolen cloaks shoved open the great steel banded oaken gates. People, camped outside the walls overnight, waiting for dawn, stood and gathered their belongings. The sounds of drivers and hostlers rose with the crack of the reins and the straining creak of wagons and carts as their horses threw their shoulders forward against their harness to get them moving. The last of the season's harvest was heading for the city's granaries. A long merchant caravan, returning home for the winter, followed the grain carts into the city. A scattering of travelers on foot and horses moved alongside, around, and behind as they jostled for their chance to get in without further waiting. Over the next several weeks many would come in while fewer and fewer would leave. The mountain passes would not close up for several weeks yet, but freak storms, although rare, were not unheard of. With five weeks left before solstice, only the hardiest and desperate took chances with the mountain weather.
Talons re-entered Armaten through the massive stone and heavy oak main gate. Rumor had been flying for weeks that Wilstryn Hornbow had been slain and secretly buried by one of her business rivals, a woman with ties to Aejys Rowan – Talons knew where those rumors were coming from since outside of herself, the Urchins, and her grandsire, only Margren's people knew Wilstryn was dead. Rumor could kill as easily as a Guildsmon's blade. So the guards were justifiably startled when Talons stepped through the gates in the guise of Wilstryn Hornbow. Since the costume and cosmetic illusion would not hold up to close scrutiny, Talons discretely kept her distance from them.
She turned down the wide main street, striding quickly into the Market Square, giving everyone a clear glimpse of her. A nervous crowd watched her warily, many moved from her path to stare. Wilstryn the arms merchant was well known and, coming on the heels of a series of murders and other suggestions of gang or factional warfare in Armaten, her sudden return from the dead appeared as a distinctly dark omen.