The High King: Book Two of the 'Riothamus' trilogy

by Rosemary Fryth

  “Asleep at last…I have only just left him.”

  The Captain of the Guard nodded at that then looked narrowly at his golden haired daughter. “Every day Alissa, you look more and more like your mother. You have much of the plains in you.”

  Alissa smiled, “She must have been a remarkable woman.”

  A flicker of past sorrow passed over the old soldier’s face, “Aye lass, she was…” Then he looked up, “You will of course stay with him?”

  Alissa nodded, “I have come to ask for your leave, father.”

  “It is given,” he said simply, understanding at last that his child had grown into a woman. “Do what you can to ease his pain,” he said gruffly. “You are the only person in this whole land who may be able to bring our king back to himself.”

  “Aye,” she replied then glanced across at her father.

  “Do you remember how I said that I must come on this war, how my magepower demanded it of me.”

  He nodded.

  Alissa turned, and glanced back towards the King’s tent, “I think I know why.”

  Captain Taran smiled grimly, “I believe you are to be his strength. His sanity”

  “Aye,” she replied then stepping forward gave her father a hug.

  “I do not regret any of this…” she said gravely. “You do know I could have made other choices, made my life quieter, simpler…”

  Taran stared at his daughter, “Druec? I often wondered why you did not allow his advances whilst we were in Sentinal that last time.”

  Alissa shrugged, her face wooden, “I had my reasons,” she replied. “Besides I had already met Aran. I knew that there was no other man for me after that meeting.”

  “You believe it was fore destined?” Taran asked, incredulous.

  “Aye, I have seen the Goddess’s hand in this,” Alissa firmly replied.

  Captain Taran took his daughter’s tanned hands in his mailed clasp, and gently placed a kiss of kinship upon her brow.

  “Then may the Goddess and Andur’s name protect you daughter,” Trevan said gently.

  Alissa felt her eyes moisten as she heard the ancient, formal words of farewell.

  “Ride a safe road father,” she whispered the reply. “May Andur ride with you.”

  *

  Aran was deeply asleep when she returned, her saddlebags and gear clasped firmly in her arms. Quietly she unloaded her belongings to a spare corner of the tent, then turning to a large jug, poured water into the washing bowl and thoroughly washed her face and hands clean of the grime of travel and war. Going to the tent door, she loosened the clasps which held it open and let the heavy canvas swing shut, bringing with it a gentle half darkness. Finally she turned, and shed her own soiled garments until she stood pale and naked by the bed. Staring down at the sleeping man, Alissa knew only a moment’s hesitation, before her own mind and heart truly convinced herself of the rightness of her actions, and she climbed into the bed beside Aran. Lying down close beside him, she drew up the covers against the creeping cold and let the welcome clasp of sleep finally claim her.

  *

  Aran did not know how long he slept, but some time later the dreams began.

  He was fighting again, and all around him the Thakur were moving upon him, as insubstantial as spirits borne upon the wind. Suddenly the Thakur were gone, and he seemed to be fighting his own men, even within his dream he recognised them as being the ones lost from Wolf Company. They were advancing upon him, swords raised against him, their pale, dead faces seemed to accuse him, blame him for their dying. Within his dream he felt himself casting down the King’s Sword, to hold up his hands against their advance, all the time crying out for mercy. Suddenly, he saw a figure appear at his side and he looked up to see a tall, stern, blond-braided man lift the King’s Sword from the blood-soaked battleground, and hold it out to him. Aran gazed in fearful recognition at the older man, then at the spirits of the dead Guard who had stopped their terrible advance.

  ‘Will you not fight this war for me?’ Aran asked simply.

  The other shook his head, ‘you are the only one, my son,’ he replied regretfully. ‘This is your fight. Your power must sustain us all…’

  Aran sadly took back the sword, and watched as the figure of the great Warleader faded back into the darkness of the plain. As Andur faded away, Aran noticed that the fallen Guardsmen were now kneeling, their heads bent and swords sheathed.

  ‘You must command them lord,’ came another voice from the darkness.

  Aran turned, and saw Alissa walk out of the darkness and the battle. Dressed like a plainsman, she was bareheaded and her hands were empty of a weapon, despite the war which raged about them.

  ‘They wait for your leave to go, Aran,’ she said gently. ‘They are held to this place by your imagined guilt, and their great love for you. You need to command them to go and find peace’.

  Deep in the dream Aran nodded, and turned to the Guardsmen.

  ‘You have fought well this day…rest easy, your deaths have been avenged.’

  Silently they bowed their heads and turned. Like Andur they vanished into the heavy darkness of the plain.

  Aran turned back to Alissa and met her gentle green eyes, ‘I have a task to do,’ he stated.

  She nodded, and then replied simply ‘You must lead us out of the darkness.’

  Aran looked about, the battlefield had faded and he stood with Alissa in the middle of a trackless dark forest.

  ‘How will I find the way in the darkness?’ he asked plaintively.

  ‘Look for the path,’ she replied. ‘Don’t fear. I will be with you in the searching…’

  Then the dream faded, and Aran slept again.

  *

  It was fully dark when Aran woke and opened his eyes. For a moment he was disorientated about where he slept, and the time of day, but memories slowly seeped back, and he remembered the battle and the long, exhausting ride back to camp. He went to sit up, and immediately became aware of a warm figure occupying the near side of his bed. The cold darkness did not give instant recognition, but Aran reasoned that the figure beside him could only be one person in this large camp of male soldiers.

  “Alissa?” he whispered, whilst putting a hand out to suddenly encounter the silky, smooth curve of a naked hip. But Alissa did not wake, so desperately tired had she been that her body did not rouse at that first gentle, tentative touch. Aran lay back puzzled, whirling thoughts filling his mind. He did not recall Alissa coming to bed. He certainly did not recall if things had happened between them earlier on. Surely he would have remembered if…

  He pulled his thoughts away, and instead became acutely aware about how his body was responding to the nearness of a naked woman in his bed. Wryly shaking his at the audacity of his betrothed, Aran put out a hand again to run it gently across Alissa’s smooth, naked curves. Gently he inched himself closer until his tall body spooned hers.

  Breathing raggedly at the full contact, Aran put his arm across her and his hand gently caressed her body. Immediately he was filled with an urgent demand for her, and he bent to nuzzle the lobes of her ear. At the touch Alissa woke and half turned, her mouth meeting his.

  “Aran?” she whispered against his lips, “Are you well now?”

  Aran laughed gently, “Better than you could ever realise, my heart. Yet I should tell you that you are very bold for coming here, and being here…now.”

  “I could do nothing else,” she replied simply, “For it is what we both have wanted for a very long time.”

  “Shhh,” he advised, “Let’s not talk…”

  Then his mouth covered hers and they kissed deeply, hungrily…

  The night grew very dark and quiet, but for the young couple in the tent, all that existed was the wonder and excitement of the now. Gently they caressed until they were both in a fever pitch of emotion and sensation. Then it was Alissa’s turn and her gentle, hesitant touch upon his body was bringing even Aran to his tenuous limits of self-control.


  “Now!” gasped Aran, feverishly and impatiently turning to pull himself fully upon her.

  In a daze of sensation and desire, Alissa accepted his weight, and felt his hard, probing touch. She had expected the sudden, brief pain of lost virginity but nothing that Kiaia had told her could have prepared her for the waves of feeling and sensation that were coursing through her body. Alissa moaned, and heard an answering moan from Aran above her. Bathed in sensation, Alissa lost herself in the movements of their joined bodies, centering her inmost thoughts upon him and the rising tide of pleasure that was filling her mind and body. Aran in the darkness above her, could not see the blissful smile upon her face…he too was lost in desire and sensation. Oblivious to everything except the feel of her and the demanding urges of his body…

  As they rose towards climax, Aran realised that part of himself was uncurling, loosening, and for the second time in as many weeks, he melded magepower with Alissa. On the joining he immediately felt her power and the latent Earthmage Ability deep within her core. Alissa too experienced the merging and as they came together, they became more than physically joined; it seemed too that their spiritual essences had flowed into each other…

  *

  Panting and gasping they rolled apart, each one immediately needing to come to terms with what had happened.

  “By…Andur,” Aran gasped, “That was…” his voice dwindled, unable to find the words.

  Alissa rolled onto her side, feeling a new soreness.

  “I don’t think that was usual,” Alissa whispered back. “I wonder if all mages experience that when they mate with each other.”

  Aran shook his head, “I felt you fully…knew your Ability as if it were my own.”

  Alissa stared silently into the darkness. For a moment, she too had experienced the intimate dark horror of Aran’s Warriormage Ability, and had been shocked at the extent of the pain and rage deep within him.

  “How do you bear it?” she asked at last, propping herself up on her elbow.

  “Bear what?” Aran was still coming down from their lovemaking.

  “Being a Warriormage,” she told him. “I felt your Ability when that…thing…happened.”

  Aran lay back to better formulate his words, “I don’t know Alissa…I’ve come to accept it. I mean it is part of me now. Most of the time I am aware of it; it’s rather like a background headache…sometimes if you ignore it, it goes away.” He frowned, “At times I can’t control it. I mean during the battle it took me over completely and for many hours afterwards I was not myself.” Then he grinned, “I would never have believed it possible, but the lovemaking helped. This is the calmest I’ve felt in days. At the end…” he shook his head, unable to describe the feeling, “All I know is that it’s loosened. It’s not so hard to bear now.” He sat up and kissed her lightly on the lips, “Thank you….”

  Alissa laughed, “Thank me? You are not the only one to have enjoyed this night’s work.” She lay back and stretched contentedly, like a cat, aware and revelling in her womanhood.

  Aran’s lips quirked, “The night is still young. We have slept away the exhaustion, and if I have not hurt you too much, perhaps we might…”

  Alissa’s answer was immediate and gratifying.

  *

  Afterwards they slept again, and woke to dawn and the sounds of a rousing camp.

  Aran lay back feeling relaxed and extremely contented. Alissa was still asleep, curled like a small animal in the protective curve of his arm. Staring at the wind’s movement across the white canvas, Aran smiled as he remembered the activity of the night. Several times they had made love in the sheltering darkness, and thinking of it made Aran realise that his body was responding yet again to Alissa’s nearness, and the memories of what had gone before.

  With a regretful grin at the weeks of foolishness during which he had denied himself the experience of Alissa’s body, Aran nevertheless gently drew away from the sleeping woman, and sat up on the edge of the bed. Standing, he ruefully grimaced at the stiffness in the muscles behind his legs, then stretched and shivered as he realised how cold the morning really was. Fishing around in the debris of clothes by the bed, he threw on his soiled tunic to see if he could find his saddle bags, and rouse someone to prepare some hot water for a bath. Stepping outside, Aran pulled his wool tunic closer about him as the cold wind blew a sprinkling of small snowflakes upon his hair and face.

  “My lord,” a soldier keeping watch by one of the near fires noticed his king was awake, and hurried over to offer his services.

  “How goes the camp?” Aran asked his eye taking in the scattering of fires, the long rows of silent tents and the one or two figures emerging with the dawn.

  “Well lord,” the young legio saluted. “All who returned from the engagement have slept the day and night away and like you are even now beginning to rise.”

  Aran stared down at his tunic, it had been heavily soiled with dried sweat and the blood of the Thakur and Aran could not bear the feel of it against his skin any longer.

  “Man, can you find my gear. It’s probably not far away…” Then Aran’s stomach rumbled audibly, “See also if you can arrange for someone to bring in hot water and a meal.” He glanced back inside the tent, “Make it enough for two.”

  The legio grinned at that. All the camp now knew that Lady Alissa had moved permanently into the King’s quarters. Indeed most of the talk was why it had taken them so long to make such an arrangement…

  *

  Later, after they had washed, dressed and eaten, Alissa and Aran were seated by the remains of their meal. Both were feeling happily content with the silence and each other’s company.

  “Aran?” There was a voice at the tent door, hesitant and questioning.

  Aran stood and smiled down at Alissa. “The day intrudes,” he murmured gently, “So much for the quiet we were just speaking of…” Then he turned and opened the tent door, “Ah Darven! Bini…come in. Did you sleep well?”

  “Aye Aran…” there was a sudden movement by the canvas and the two soldiers nervously stepped up onto the raised wooden floor.

  “Alissa,” In one word it was a greeting and a hesitant query all at once.

  The young woman understood the unsaid question and stood and smiled. “Come in you two…I dare say it’s warmer in here than out. Did you sleep well? Are you quite recovered?”

  They nodded and stepped inside.

  When they were inside, Aran pulled down the canvas door flap to keep in the warmth, and seated himself back beside Alissa.

  “Come on…sit down. We won’t bite,” Aran was suddenly inexplicably enjoying the nervous embarrassment of his two male friends.

  Darven and Bini unfolded a couple of wood and leather stools, and sat down upon them, the leather creaking a little under their weight.

  “Did everyone rest well?” Aran asked. “I hope we didn’t lose any more of the wounded overnight.”

  Darven shook his head, “The Healermages were able to stabilise the more seriously injured. All they need now is rest and sleep.”

  Aran nodded, “Any word of the enemy?”

  “None…our scouting parties have returned,” replied Darven. “There is no sight of the enemy within at least a day’s ride. I assume that the Thakur were relying on their mounted advance force to secure positions ahead of the slow marching infantry.”

  Aran frowned; his concentration and thoughts immediately back with the war at hand. “We cannot just rely on mounted reports,” he turned to the plainsman, “Bini, do you know if High Earthmage Drayden has roused?”

  The golden-haired warrior shrugged, “I think I saw him in the distance…at the mage’s enclave.”

  “Could you fetch him here,” Aran asked. “I need to get a long range report, and at the moment I’d rather talk with Drayden than with the Archmage.”

  Darven’s eyebrows quirked up at that, but Bini only nodded and disappeared out of the tent. Aran caught Darven’s look and frowned.

  “
Don’t worry Darven,” Aran reassured his friend, “I am a much saner man than I what I was before…but that notwithstanding, I don’t think I’d care to deal with Maran so soon.” He paused in order to marshal his thoughts.

  “The rest and sleep have made me calmer,” he said explaining, “But there is something between the Archmage and myself…” he added darkly. “Something that will need a great deal of time to heal”

  For a moment his grey eyes grew shadowed, “I realise now that Maran acted as he did for the good of the mages, but I don’t think I will be able to forgive him his abandonment of the Guard.” His face creased with remembered grief, “I am certain that Glaive could have done something…”

  Alissa put a gentle, comforting hand on his arm. Gratefully Aran turned and covered her hand with his own. She understood well his unspoken thanks for her presence and support. A moment later there was movement at the tent flap, and Bini came in with three figures at his heels.

  “Lord Riothamus,” Bini apologised, “I know you were just asking for Mage Drayden, but these other two men were asking about you, and heard that you were awake and up…”

  But Aran was already on his feet and pulling out some of the stacked stools. “Sit down Bini,” Aran smiled reassuringly, “For I know these men, and they are welcome here.”

  “How art thou lad?” Craftsmaster Cody moved from the doorway, his large frame seemingly to fill the tent. “I was worried for I had heard that thou wert troubled and not thyself.”

  Aran nodded, “Aye Master Cody, but I believe now that I am somewhat back to better humour.”

  “Good!” Mage Trevan stepped forward, and impassively held a hand against the younger man’s brow. “There is no fever. You are lucky you did not fall into sickness on that cold battlefield.” He stepped away and ran a critical eye across his young friend, “There is something changed about you Arantur,” he stated. “Yesterday morn and the day before you were like a crazed dog ready to go for throats. Now you seem more at peace, somehow resolved within yourself.”