Mordant's Need

by Stephen R. Donaldson

  Prince Kragen shrugged. His patience was wearing thin. ‘Then you and the Perdon will be hindered as much as we are.’

  ‘And what about the Armigite?’ Nyle seemed unable to keep his anger down. ‘Is he going to let you march your army – and supply it – straight through his Care without making at least an effort to slow you down?’

  At that, Prince Kragen laughed shortly. ‘I doubt that I need to concern myself with the Armigite.’ His laugh held a note of scorn that made Terisa feel suddenly colder. ‘Nevertheless I have done so. He and I have negotiated a pact.

  ‘Sweating fear all the while, he offered me an unhindered passage through his Care for as many armies as I chose to name. And what did he ask in exchange? That we do no violence to his people in their towns and villages? That we leave untouched the cattle pens and storehouses that feed his Care? No. He asked only that he be allowed to remain safe and ignorant – ignorant, Nyle – while the fate of Mordant was decided.’

  Argus swore under his breath. But Terisa had met the Armigite: she wasn’t surprised.

  ‘Personally,’ the Prince went on with more nonchalance, ‘I would enjoy damaging his ignorance a little. His Care deserves better of him. But we will respect the pact. And we will do no harm to his people or his cattle or his stores. Our aim is to find an answer to your King’s weakness – and to oppose Cadwal – not to worsen the old enmity between Mordant and Alend.

  ‘Have I satisfied you, Nyle?’

  From the back, Nyle didn’t look satisfied: there was too much tension in his stance. Terisa would have expected him to be grateful to Prince Kragen for giving him so few causes for mistrust, so many reasons to believe he was doing the right thing. Why was he still angry? Why did he sound almost livid with fury as he replied, ‘Yes, my lord Prince.’

  For a moment, Prince Kragen regarded his ally as though he, too, didn’t understand Nyle’s mood. But apparently what he saw in Nyle’s face assured him. ‘Good,’ he said, suddenly brisk. ‘The Perdon will listen to you. Let us begin.’

  At once, he signaled to his bodyguards.

  The men watching either end of the ravine returned to their horses. Moving stiffly, Nyle readied his own mount. At last, Terisa saw his face. His features were set and implacable, as if nothing – not even his own passion – could dissuade him from the course he had chosen.

  Argus rose into a crouch and loosened his sword. ‘We’ll jump them before they get out of the ravine. Maybe we’ll be able to stop them.’ The grimace that exposed his missing teeth didn’t show much fear. Fighting was his job; he and Ribuld seemed to take it for granted.

  But Geraden stopped them. ‘Don’t be stupid. There are four of them. And if the Prince has any sense, he has more men nearby.

  ‘You.’ Speaking quickly so that the guards had no chance to argue with him, he stabbed an index finger at Argus. ‘Follow the Prince. Find where he’s camped. Keep an eye on him. And leave a trail.

  ‘Ribuld, you get back to Orison.’ The lines of Geraden’s face were as sharp as the cold. Frost in his eyebrows and snow in his hair made him look strangely feral. ‘Tell Castellan Lebbick what you heard. Lead him here. Tell him if he captures the Prince we can use him as hostage. We still have a chance to get out of this mess.

  ‘Go.’ He gave the guard an urgent push.

  Ribuld looked once at Argus and back at Geraden, puckering his scar in concentration. Then he launched himself down the steep slope almost at a run.

  Prince Kragen and his bodyguards swung up into their saddles. Nyle began dousing his fire with handfuls of crusted snow.

  ‘Thanks a lot,’ Argus whispered sarcastically to Geraden. ‘You gave me the hard job. If they go west, these two ravines join. I can pick up their trail there. But if they go east—’ He jerked a thumb behind him. ‘That one ends. The other opens out of these hills. I won’t be able to get my horse over the ridge. I’ll have to follow them on foot.’

  ‘Then you’re in luck.’ Geraden pointed downward.

  Below him, Nyle mounted his horse. The son of the Domne and the son of the Alend Monarch faced each other, and Prince Kragen raised a salute. Together, the Alends turned to the left and started along the frozen stream.

  Argus punched Geraden lightly on the arm and left, bounding down the side of the ridge toward his mount.

  Terisa continued watching Nyle. Over her shoulder, she heard Ribuld ride away.

  Nyle remained where he was for a moment, perhaps considering the best route to Perdon, perhaps wondering what he could say to persuade Perdon’s lord – perhaps simply hesitating. Then he urged his mount forward with his heels and went east.

  Geraden caught hold of Terisa’s hand. ‘Come on. We’ve got to stop him.’ He almost pulled her off balance as he followed Argus toward the horses.

  At once, he fell. Fortunately, some instinct inspired him to let go of her hand as he went down. And he caught himself before he had a chance to break any bones on the rocks. He reached the bottom of the ravine several strides ahead of her.

  Awkward with haste, he leaped into the saddle of his mare. From the low valley where the streams met, Ribuld had disappeared along the streambed in the direction of Orison. At a more cautious pace, Argus was going west, toward the joining of the ravines. Flapping his boots against the mare’s sides, Geraden goaded her into a gallop eastward.

  Terisa reached out a hand to him, called as loudly as she dared, ‘Wait!’

  He didn’t see or hear her.

  By the time she had descended to her gelding, she had decided to forget everything else and just follow Ribuld home. She was chilled to the heart; she didn’t know how much more of this cold she could endure. She was afraid of everything she had heard.

  Ignoring her own decision, she continued to hurry as fast as she could. Somehow, she untethered the gelding; somehow, she got her left foot into the stirrup, her right leg over its back. With the reins, she hauled its head toward the east.

  Gritting her teeth, she kicked it.

  She nearly panicked when the gelding went from a trot into a canter and then a run, trying for reasons of its own to catch up with Geraden’s mare.

  This speed felt tremendous. And the bottom of the ravine was treacherous. She ought to control her mount somehow – slow it; steer it to safer footing. Of course. And while she was at it, she ought to defeat the Alend Monarch’s army, take care of Master Gilbur and the arch-Imager Vagel, and produce peace on earth. While composing great music with her free hand. Instead of doing all that, however, she concentrated with a pure white intensity that resembled terror on simply staying in the saddle.

  The northern wall of the ravine became sheer gray stone, then relaxed its slope a little. Along the top, it was thick with brush. The south side was much more gradual, held down by heavy black trees with their roots gripped in the soil. But soon the trees drew back, and the side became steeper.

  While the gelding hurtled along, she promised and promised herself that if she ever got off it alive she would never ride again, never as long as she lived, never.

  All at once, as if the terrain itself had taken pity on her, the walls of the ravine jumped up and came together, ending the watercourse. At one time, it must have continued on to the east, but apparently its sides had fallen inward, forcing the water to find another channel. The horses had nowhere to go.

  Roughly, Geraden wrenched his mare to a halt and sprang from her back. He hit the ground too fast: he fell again, slamming his whole body into the snow. He looked like a wild man as he regained his feet and charged the north slope.

  She had no breath to shout at him, call him back, so she had to figure out how to make the gelding stop by herself.

  Unintentionally kind, it took care of that detail for her. Having rejoined the mare, it seemed suddenly content with its lot in life. At the mare’s side, it nuzzled her once, then lowered its head and lapsed into a state of impenetrable stupidity.

  Terisa was still in one piece. Amazing.

  It would have
been nice to sit there and enjoy her survival for a moment. But Geraden was scrambling frantically up the slope. At first, the climb looked too steep for him. Then she saw that he was going to make it. Soon he would be out of sight.

  She struggled off her horse, took a few tentative steps to test the solidity of the world, then pushed herself into a tight run.

  The ridge side was certainly steep. It was well supplied with embedded rocks and protruding roots, however. And Geraden’s upward scramble had cleared away a remarkable amount of snow. She found that if she didn’t hurry – and didn’t look down – she could make the ascent quite easily.

  On the way, she tried not to think about how far ahead he was. Or what he intended to do.

  Gasping at the icy air, she reached the crest.

  The spine separating the two ravines was much the same here as it had been back where she and Geraden had eavesdropped on Nyle and Prince Kragen: a bit gentler down its northward face; marked with brush, jutting piles of rock, a few trees; but still steep. The stream that had cut the ravine clung to the base of the spine, wandering slowly out of sight to the east. The ravine itself was gone, however. Its own north side had slumped down and opened up into a wood which filled the lower ground between this spine and another ridge of hills. The ridge was plainly visible through the bare treetops, although it appeared to be some distance away.

  Geraden, on the other hand, was nowhere to be seen.

  She would have panicked, but she had no time. Almost at once, she spotted Nyle.

  He rode at a trot along the streambed. He was still off to her left, coming eastward; but in a moment he would be directly below her. If she were the kind of person who did such things, she could have hit him with a rock.

  More because Nyle’s movement drew her gaze in that direction than because she had recovered her common sense, she looked at the slope in front of her and saw the marks of Geraden’s descent. They went straight into a thick clump of brush poised above the streambed.

  She figured out what was happening just in time to control her surprise as Geraden sprang out of the brush at his brother.

  His elevation and proximity gave him an advantage: he could hardly have missed. And he jumped hard. His momentum carried Nyle out of the saddle and plunged both of them into the snow on the far side of the horse with a sound that made Terisa think of snapped arms and broken backs.

  She started down the slope, a shout locked in her throat.

  Geraden’s experience with falls stood him in good stead. He was on his feet again almost instantly. Scattering flurries of snow, he dashed after the startled horse and struck the beast on its rump, sending it away at a gallop, out of reach. Then he turned back to his brother.

  Nyle lifted his head. For a moment, he didn’t appear to realize that he was blind because his face was caked with snow. When he scraped his features clear, however, he was able to see.

  ‘Are you all right?’ asked Geraden. ‘I didn’t mean to hurt you. I just wanted to stop you.’

  Blinking fiercely, Nyle shook his head. In a series of jerks, he moved each of his arms, then his legs. He slapped snow off his half-cloak. All at once, he yanked himself to his feet like a knife blade opening.

  ‘If you think this is a joke,’ he said between his teeth, ‘it isn’t funny.’

  Terisa’s exhausted legs nearly failed her; she stumbled and had to catch herself on a tree. But she was almost there.

  ‘It isn’t a joke.’ Geraden was so caked and white that he looked like he had been rolled together by children. Nevertheless there was nothing childlike in his manner. ‘I’m not going to let you do it.’

  Terisa reached the streambed and skittered across the frozen surface toward the two brothers.

  ‘Do what?’ snapped Nyle. ‘You’ve lost your mind. I was just riding. On a horse. Remember horses? You act like that’s a crime against humanity.’

  ‘Nyle.’ Geraden held himself still. Even his voice became still. ‘I heard you. I was there.’ He included Terisa. ‘We were there. We heard everything you said. And Prince Kragen.’

  For just a second, Nyle gaped at his brother. He gaped at Terisa.

  Mutely, she nodded in confirmation.

  He straightened his shoulders, and anger closed his face like a shutter.

  ‘So you’ve decided to stop me. Full of moral superiority, you’ve decided to stop me because you cling to the astonishing belief that King Joyse and chaos and terrible Imagery and a fresh start to the wars that crippled Mordant for generations are somehow preferable to putting the Perdon on the throne and saving the entire kingdom. You—’

  ‘No.’ Geraden shook his head, suppressing violence. ‘It won’t work. The Perdon will never accept Prince Kragen’s offer – he knows that. He’s sending you to do this to confuse the issue, so the Perdon won’t have a chance to fight for Orison when Alend attacks.’

  ‘You’re wrong, Geraden.’ Terisa was surprised to hear herself speak. Her voice was like a small animal huddling against the cold and barely alive. ‘I’m sorry. I’ve met the Perdon. I’ve seen him and Prince Kragen together. He’s desperate. He won’t turn the Prince down.’

  Geraden gave her a quick look of dismay; but Nyle didn’t glance away from his brother. ‘Even if that’s not true,’ he resumed, ‘you’re acting like a child. Prince Kragen is right. The Alend Monarch is right. The worst thing that can happen to us is for High King Festten to get his hands on the Congery.

  ‘We’re already being torn apart by an Imager no one can find or stop. Cadwal will be able to decimate everything west of the Vertigon if the Congery falls. On our mother’s grave, Geraden, we ought to beg Margonal to invade us.

  ‘Instead of interfering, why don’t you figure out what you’re going to say to all the families who are going to be butchered – all the children who are going to be bereaved – all the men and women who are going to be maimed and massacred when King Joyse finally collapses and no power strong enough to hold the realm together takes his place?

  ‘In the meantime, get out of my way.’

  Thrusting between Geraden and Terisa, he stamped off after his horse.

  The dismay on Geraden’s face got worse. For a moment, he seemed unable to move. Confused and alarmed, Terisa reached out a hand to him. ‘Geraden?’

  Abruptly, his features knotted, and he swung into motion.

  Chasing Nyle, he yelled, ‘That’s great! Wonderful! You’re right, of course. You’re being perfectly reasonable. Our father is going to be very proud of you.’

  Nyle flinched, but kept on walking.

  ‘There’s just one thing. What about loyalty? King Joyse is our father’s friend. What about self-respect? You’re betraying your King, the man who made Mordant and peace out of nothing but bloodshed. How are you planning to live the rest of your life without loyalty or self-respect?’

  ‘Loyalty to whom?’ Though Nyle’s stride didn’t falter, his shout was like a cry. ‘King Joyse? When was he ever loyal to me?

  ‘He met all of us. He must have seen me dying for his notice, his approval. But you’re the one he invited to Orison. When he decided to betroth Elega, he chose you. And a brilliant choice it was, too. You’ve certainly vindicated his good judgment, haven’t you? Forgive me, but I find it a little difficult to feel warm and sentimental about that man.

  ‘And he’s going to get us all killed!’ Small pieces of his distress echoed back from the tree trunks. ‘Don’t you understand that? How much self-respect are you going to get out of giving your life for a man who sacrificed you simply because he couldn’t be bothered to hold his realm together? If you want to talk about self-respect, ask yourself why you place so little value on your own blood. I won’t even mention the blood of all the people you claim to care about.’

  ‘Then why—’

  Geraden caught up with Nyle and grabbed his arm. Nyle flung off Geraden’s grip. The two brothers faced each other, their breath steaming furiously.

  ‘Then why,’ Geraden repeated, ‘a
re you so angry about it?’ He was no longer shouting. His voice sank to a whisper. ‘You’re doing what you know is right. Doesn’t that make you feel good? And you’re doing what Elega wants. She’ll love you for it. She won’t be able to help herself. Doesn’t that make you feel good?’

  ‘No.’ Like Geraden, Nyle lowered his voice as if he didn’t want the trees or the snow to hear him. ‘No, it doesn’t.’ Each word hurt. ‘That’s how I got into this, but it doesn’t help. She doesn’t love me. She’ll never love me. She loves Prince Kragen.’

  All around him, the wood was silent. The only noise came from Terisa’s boots as she neared the brothers. The sunlight out of the leaden sky seemed to have no weight, no effect against the cold.

  Geraden spread his hands in a gesture of appeal. ‘Then give it up. Please. This is all craziness anyway. There’s no way the Alend Monarch can take Orison without a terrible siege – without killing any number of people. I don’t care what Prince Kragen says. The Tor and Castellan Lebbick won’t give up. The only lives you’re going to save are Alend’s, not ours. Don’t throw yourself away for a woman who wants to betray her own father.’

  Terisa saw at once that Geraden had made a mistake. He should have left Nyle’s grief to gnaw at him unaided – shouldn’t have mentioned Elega again. But it was too late now: the damage was done. As if the bones of his skull were shifting, Nyle’s face took on the implacable set that had persuaded Prince Kragen to trust him. His eyes were as dull as weathered stone.

  ‘If you want my advice’ – he had a white-knuckled grip on himself – ‘go home while you can. And take Artagel with you. He isn’t going to enjoy losing his famous independence.’

  ‘Nyle,’ Geraden protested.

  Nyle glanced over his shoulder. ‘I see my horse. He’ll let me catch him – if you haven’t spooked him too badly.’ He returned his gaze to Geraden’s. ‘You’re going to stay here while I go get him. Then I’m going to ride away. If your mind is as weak as your talent for Imagery, you’ll go back to Orison and tell Lebbick the whole story. It won’t do him any good, but at least he’ll have something to fret about for a few days. But if you have any sense, you’ll keep your mouth shut.’