Heir to the Sun

by Jennifer Allis Provost

  “During the day?” Tor asked, and Caol’nir nodded.

  “Eighteen mordeths had gained access to the temple and were sealed inside with the priestesses,” Caol’nir said, keeping his voice steady for Alluria’s sake. “Most of the priestesses are now dead; Rahlle and his apprentices are tending to those who lived, and will bring them here when they have done all they can. Fiornacht…” Caol’nir dropped his eyes, his voice low when he continued, “Fiornacht fell before I arrived.”

  “A hero’s death,” Alluria added. “A valiant hero’s death.”

  Tor swallowed hard, and nodded. “And Caol’non?”

  “Alive and well, he now leads the king’s guard,” Caol’nir replied. “I thought it best to leave quickly and quietly, so I did not speak with him. He is safe, for now.” Tor nodded again, then affected the stoic mask of the Prelate of Parthalan.

  “Lormac,” Tor called into the tent. “We cannot lay siege to Teg’urnan. The attack has already begun.”

  Caol’nir explained the events of the morning to Lormac and Balthus. As they plotted how they would take Teg’urnan, Caol’nir felt Alluria stiffen in his arms.

  “What is it, nalla?” he murmured. Before she could reply, Tor announced that Rahlle was now within the camp, having materialized along with his three apprentices and the surviving priestesses. Caol’nir said that had he known the sorcerer could transport so many they could have saved their walk, but Alluria remained silent. Behind Rahlle was a familiar swath of orange silk, and Caol’nir understood his mate’s alarm.

  “Sarelle!” Alluria shouted, freeing herself of Caol’nir’s arms. “Betrayer! Blasphemer! How dare you betray Olluhm and those sworn to him!” Alluria’s arm was outstretched before her, and she shoved Sarelle without touching her.

  “Foolish girl,” Sarelle spat. “You could have wielded more power than any of us, yet you gave it all away to lie with that oaf!” Sarelle pointed at Caol’nir, lest there be any doubt of whom she was speaking. Alluria made a quick motion and knocked away Sarelle’s arm.

  “Since you’re so convinced that I’m Olluhm’s child, you’d do well not to anger me further,” Alluria growled. Sarelle stepped back, but Alluria clenched her fist and rendered Sarelle immobile.

  “Nalla,” Caol’nir began, falling silent at the rage in Alluria’s eyes.

  “What is this about?” demanded Tor. “Alluria, release her!”

  “No.” Alluria said the word quietly, a simple word made more powerful by whom she was refusing. “Sarelle is the king’s whore—a traitor’s whore—and I will see her punished.” Her musical voice was discordant as she levied her accusations against Sarelle. Tor stared at Alluria, stunned that she had refused his order, since as Prelate he was not refused often. He faced Caol’nir, who spoke loudly enough for all to hear.

  “Sarelle cast the portal that admitted the mordeths to the Great Temple,” Caol’nir said. “Then she sealed the doors. Fiornacht died defending them.”

  Tor looked from his son back to the High Priestess, his eyes cold as he drew his sword. “For the death of my son and the deaths of the priestesses, your life is forfeit,” he declared.

  “You cannot,” Sarelle shrieked.

  “I can,” Tor bellowed. “I am Prelate, or have you forgotten?”

  Sarelle’s mouth worked, and Caol’nir thought she was reciting a spell, then he realized that she couldn’t breathe. Incredibly, invisible fingers seemed to depress the flesh of Sarelle’s neck. Alluria was choking her.

  “You cannot kill her,” Caol’nir said to Alluria. “Let my father handle her punishment.” Caol’nir watched Alluria’s fingers clench and unclench, allowing Sarelle enough air to keep her from fainting, no more. Alluria eyes were globes of sapphire flames fixed on Sarelle’s helpless form.

  “He marked me!” Alluria’s shrieked. “I’m the property of a demon! Damned, because of you and your lust!” Alluria’s fingers clenched again, and she raised Sarelle by her neck.

  “Nalla,” Caol’nir said quietly, “stop. You’re not like her.”

  Alluria dropped her hand and Sarelle fell, struggling for breath like a fish plucked from the sea. Caol’nir turned Alluria away from the gasping woman and tucked her head against his neck. He murmured soft, soothing words to her, relieved when he felt Alluria’s hands against his chest. Then her fingers were inside his jerkin, and she snatched the portal and flung it at Sarelle.

  “No!” Sarelle cried, scrambling back from the disc. A white light blinded the onlookers, and then the High Priestess was gone.

  “Where have you sent her?” Caol’nir asked.

  “To the underworld,” Alluria replied. “Now she will be the one suffering at the hands of demons.”

  ###

  “She truly is a god’s daughter,” Lormac observed. Alluria and the wounded priestesses had been relocated to the healers’ tent, and Lormac ordered that they be treated with the same courtesy as Nexa herself. He and Caol’nir watched the healers as they bustled about, preparing their poultices and salves. “Her justice was swift and cruel, yet also fair.”

  Caol’nir nodded, not wishing to give credence to Lormac’s words. He watched yet another healer spread ointment across Alluria’s thigh, only to shake his head when the mark remained unchanged.

  “Why was she the only one marked?” Caol’nir mused. Rahlle had checked all the bodies within the temple and only Alluria bore a mordeth’s print.

  “Isn’t it obvious?” Lormac countered. “Your mate is the embodiment of everything demons lack. She is a soft, fertile field where they are naught but charred earth. By marking her, Mersgoth sought to ruin her.”

  “He did not succeed,” Caol’nir insisted, yet it tore at his heart that his mate would forever bear such an evil brand upon her flesh. Alluria, who had spent most of her life believing herself unwanted, would likely be shunned due to her injury. He looked sidelong at the elf king; while Caol’nir didn’t believe that Asherah had been marked, the beasts had used her in far worse ways. Yet Lormac loved her regardless. “What would you do if Asherah was marked?”

  “Our duty as warriors is to defend our mates, yet sometimes tragedies occur that are beyond our reach. How we respond to such events is what makes us men, and not just boys playing with wooden swords.”

  “Have you given that same speech to Leran?”

  “Many times.”

  “So tell me, wise Lord of Tingu, what would a man like you do if a mordeth marked your lovely mate?”

  To Caol’nir’s surprise, Lormac grinned. “I’d continue bedding her every night, and if the stinking bastard dared to try and take her from me, I’d castrate him and choke him with his own member.”

  Caol’nir snorted. “I did castrate Mersgoth. When I found Alluria on her back before him…” Caol’nir didn’t continue, since Lormac’s mate had suffered what his narrowly avoided. Lormac clapped him on the shoulder.

  “Just what I would have done.”

  Caol’nir nodded at Lormac, grateful for the elf’s advice. He had meant what he said to Alluria in their chamber; he would not forsake her, not even if she bore the marks of a hundred mordeths. Lormac’s steadfast nature made the situation somewhat easier for Caol’nir to bear. As he resolved to help his mate carry her burden, Alluria approached him with Atreynha beside her.

  “Alluria has questions for me,” Atreynha said. “You may as well come along, warrior, so I don’t need to tell the same tale twice. Lormac, may we speak in your tent privately?”

  Lormac acquiesced to her request, and Caol’nir laced his fingers with Alluria’s as they followed the Mother Priestess into the palatial tent. Atreynha settled herself in one of Lormac’s camp chairs and Alluria knelt before her, Caol’nir standing at her shoulder as if he was still naught but her guard.

  “Do I look like her?” Alluria asked. Atreynha smiled, the corners of her eyes crinkling, and stroked Alluria’s hair.

  “You are lovely, child, but no; you don’t look like your mother.” Alluria gazed at Atreynh
a, so she continued, “Annalee had tawny-red hair, close in color to the moon, and pale brown eyes. She was also very small; even when she was heavy with you she was tiny.”

  “She was already with child when you met her?” Caol’nir asked.

  “She arrived in the middle of a thunderstorm, soaked to the bone. At first, we thought she was a young boy, for her hair was cropped above her shoulders. Then we got her out of her sodden cloak and saw her belly. We knew that her child would soon come.”

  “Did she say where she was from?”

  “When we asked, she said she came in from the storm and never any more. Eventually, we stopped asking and just accepted that she was our charge.” Alluria pursed her lips, unsatisfied with Atreynha’s explanation. “She couldn’t have walked far in that storm. I’d assumed that she had come from the village, but we never did find anyone who would admit to knowing her.”

  Alluria looked at her hands. “Did she speak of my father?”

  “She never uttered a single word about him.” Atreynha leaned forward and with one long finger lifted Alluria’s chin. “Child, I have told you all of this before.”

  “I know,” Alluria said softly. “It’s just… How could she have appeared and not my father? Would he leave my mother unprotected in the midst of a storm?”

  “That I cannot answer,” Atreynha replied. “What I will say is that when Annalee first came to us, her manner made us wonder if she was somehow addled.”

  “What changed your mind?” asked Caol’nir.

  “Alluria’s birth,” Atreynha replied, now gazing at the former priestess with a mother’s pride. “It was the darkest part of the night, the storm having whipped itself into a fury. Annalee was calmer than any woman in childbed I had ever seen, and Alluria will attest, I have helped many a babe into the world. She just kept telling us to wait, to stop rushing around…” Atreynha smiled, remembering that night so long ago. “She calmed us with her gentle voice, soothing like chimes on the wind… Alluria, you do have her voice.”

  Alluria’s cheeks darkened as she ducked her head. “And then, Mother Priestess?” Caol’nir asked.

  “I hope you’re this eager when your own children are born,” Atreynha said, thus darkening Caol’nir’s cheeks as well. “Well, as I said the night was still as death, and Annalee lay in her bed patiently waiting for her child. Suddenly there was a blinding flash, and our Alluria was here.”

  “You mean Annalee bore her,” Caol’nir said, but Atreynha shook her head.

  “No, she was simply here. There was no blood, no pain, just a flash of light and then Annalee held a tiny, perfect girl to her breast.”

  “So that is why people thought I was Olluhm’s child, because my mother bore me with no pain?” Alluria asked.

  “Those who give birth to the god’s children are spared the pain of childbirth. Annalee’s odd manner made sense once we realized she had lain with Olluhm, for only priestesses are prepared for him. When he visits an untrained maiden, she can come away from the experienced dazzled by his glory.” Atreynha touched Alluria’s cheek, and caught up a length of her hair. “You are a rare and precious girl, my child.”

  “If I’m so rare and precious why did she leave?” Alluria asked bitterly. “You’d think she would have wanted me.”

  Atreynha sighed. “She wanted you more than anything. It tore at her heart that she couldn’t remain with you, and she made me swear to care for you as if you were my own child.” Alluria hung her head, and Caol’nir realized that she had never heard Annalee’s story in its entirety.

  “Why did she leave?” Caol’nir persisted.

  “She never said she would,” Atreynha replied. “I rose one morning and found Alluria alone in the blankets, and I’ve not seen Annalee since.” Alluria whimpered, and Caol’nir squeezed her against him.

  “I still don’t understand,” Caol’nir said. “Annalee arrived during a storm, bore Alluria with no pain, and left in the dark of night. That is all well and good, but what makes you think Alluria is Olluhm’s child?”

  Atreynha took up more of Alluria’s hair in her hands, raking her fingers through the length of it. “Alluria, tell your mate about the birth of his ancestor.”

  Alluria blinked, and then recited a story that Caol’nir already knew well. “Olluhm would not leave Cydia’s side as she swelled with his child, yet when the time came and Cydia felt the pains of birth Olluhm became despondent, for had he not gotten her with child she would not be in such discomfort. He railed against himself in the skies, whipping the elements into thunderclaps and lightning, then in a great flash of light equal to the sun’s brilliance Solon was born.”

  Alluria fell silent, having told the story so many times she no longer heard the words, so Atreynha finished the tale. “And for every child born after Solon, and there were many for Olluhm loved his mate dearly, he took from her the pains of childbed and kept her in comfort.”

  “Don’t you see?” Caol’nir said to Alluria. “You came into this world the same way as his other children.”

  “You should not have such faith in legends,” Alluria admonished.

  “Child, of all the questions you have asked me over and over, you have never once asked me who you resemble,” Atreynha said.

  “You claim I look nothing like my mother.”

  “You don’t. You resemble your father.”

  Alluria gasped, looking from Caol’nir to Atreynha. She always wondered why the other priestesses gawked at her, why she had no friends save Alyon and Atreynha, Caol’nir thought. They couldn’t bear the sight of the one who looked like their god.

  “I do?” Alluria asked, her voice little more than a whisper.

  “Yes, child, you do.” With that, Atreynha rose and left the mates to ponder what they had learned.

  “You never knew?” Caol’nir asked as he knelt beside her. He drew Alluria into his arms; she felt just the same, soft and warm and his, regardless of the mordeth’s mark.

  “I never asked.” Alluria nestled herself against Caol’nir’s chest. “How could others know?”

  “They must have heard the story of your birth.” Caol’nir held her for a time, rocking her as one would a child. “Or perhaps it’s your appearance; Olluhm’s blood must be strong within you.” Alluria nodded. And then asked the question she dreaded.

  “You said there were eighteen mordeths in the temple?”

  “Yes.”

  “I counted seventeen bodies.”

  Caol’nir squeezed his eyes shut. He had entertained the notion of not telling Alluria of Mersgoth’s escape, of letting her believe that she was safe. “Mersgoth was not there.”

  Alluria’s hand went to her thigh. “He can find me.”

  “I know.”

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  The Ish h’ra hai debated how to take the palace long into the night; the attack within the Great Temple proved that the demons had a stronger foothold than suspected. As the elder sun rose, those involved left the now-stuffy confines of Lormac’s tent, hoping the fresh air and breaking dawn would clear their muddled thoughts. Balthus sketched a map of Teg’urnan’s walls in the dust, but Tor and Caol’nir maintained that an outright attack against Teg’urnan would fail.

  “What we need to do is enter unawares, a few at a time,” stated Caol’nir.

  “That won’t work,” said Tor. “The gatekeepers will notice such a large influx of elves and notify—” Tor stopped abruptly. “Caol’non. They will notify Caol’non.”

  Balthus’s lip curled, but a sharp glance from Lormac made him hold his tongue. While Lormac was always the first to defend an elf before a faerie, it was not the time or place for infighting; more, Lormac hoped to never share Tor’s pain of losing a child. Lormac turned to Asherah, heretofore a silent observer of the debate.

  “Asherah,” he began, “what should we do?”

  “But what can I do?” she asked. “I have never been to Teg’urnan, and I certainly don’t know how to breach the walls.”

&nbs
p; “You are the deliverer,” Lormac reminded her. “Deliver a solution.”

  Asherah muttered something about Lormac’s faith in her becoming a hindrance rather than a help, gazed over the plain. Her black eyes contemplated the palace for a time, then her gaze swept over the foothills, eventually settling upon Rahlle.

  “Master Sorcerer,” Asherah began, “I know that you cannot act against the king, and I would never ask you to compromise your oath, but is there some way you could assist us in gaining entry to the palace?”

  Rahlle turned his storm-cloud gray eyes to her, lightning cracking behind his pupils. “What do you need, child?”

  “We must enter from below,” Asherah said.

  “Below?” Tor repeated. “There is no entry from below.”

  “Exactly. They’ll expect us to come through the gate, or over the walls. Hells, they may be expecting us to drop from the sky, but they’ll never expect an attack from beneath,” she explained.

  “That just may work,” Tor murmured, the he asked Rahlle, “Can it be done?”

  “It can, but I will require assistance from the daughter,” replied the sorcerer.

  “Me?” Alluria’s voice squeaked as if she was a mouse.

  “Our father built Teg’urnan as a love token for his mate,” Rahlle explained. “I cannot displace it without his permission.”

  Alluria nodded, then the two of them walked to the highest of the foothills. They stood together with their hands joined as they gazed upon the first home of the fae. Alluria was silent while Rahlle murmured an incantation. Then the ground trembled—no, it shook—and the mighty stone palace shuddered where it sat on the plain. Only it was a plain no longer.

  “You raised the palace,” Caol’nir shouted, catching Alluria as she swooned. Indeed, they had raised the palace. Teg’urnan had rested in the exact center of the plain but was now perched at the crest of a hill half again as tall than the one they stood on.

  “We still cannot gain access,” Tor stated. “If anything, Teg’urnan being atop a hill makes it more easily defended.”