It had seemed simple when she had them dragged into her great hall in chains. Escape was still foremost on his mind, but Qabala had a way of making him forget she was his foe. After spending some time with her, Nerris felt his passion rekindled, along with his desire to help her. He could not let his friends suffer while he enjoyed the luxuries of royalty, but neither could he get the slender warrior queen and her pure but corrupted aspirations out of his head.
So he practiced at battle with raw boys, no older than he had been when he fought in the Liberation of Agos. The fighting seemed the only thing in his life free of complication. An opponent stood across from him, with two blades the only barrier between victory and defeat, life and death.
One youth came at him with a roar, his blunted practice sword swinging down from overhead. Nerris parried the blow and hooked the boy’s leg with his foot, sending him sprawling. He held the point of his own blade to the youth’s throat.
“You overextended in your footing,” he said. “Remember that a sword is but one tool a warrior fights with. A shield can be used to batter you senseless as readily, and an arc too high is an open invitation to a kick in the gut. And then there’s this.” Nerris pointed to his own head. The boys followed his every move in rapt attention. “Your most powerful weapon of all. Develop your mind and you will have the advantage over many a man. Let it go to waste and it’s no more useful than a sword gone to rust.”
Nerris helped his opponent to his feet, and the boy smiled. “Thank you, your Constancy.”
Nerris frowned. “I am no Dume-General.”
“I hear you will be,” the boy said, and several of the others confirmed it. “It’s all over the Aeternica. They say the Aeterna will announce your engagement at the banquet and dub you a Dume-General.”
“Speculation and conjecture,” Nerris said. “Are we here to learn swordsmanship or gossip like scullery maids?”
The denial of being anything resembling women reminded him of similar admonishments he had endured at Gauntlet, except now the roles were reversed. He heard more than a few of Rhodias’s own words mixing in with his. He could practically hear his old trainer’s bellows every time one of the recruits lost his stance or leaned out too far while swinging his blade.
Shouts from the main gate startled him out of his memories, and he heard the echoing creak of the rising portcullis. A score of mounted men were admitted to the yard and came to a halt before him. Men-at-arms led a line of bedraggled prisoners in the direction of the dungeons. The lead horsemen wore the armor of Dume-Generals. All around him, the youths saluted. Green though they might be, respect for the chain of command had already been ingrained in their heads. Nerris didn’t salute, but examined the high officers. Since Falares and Lukas had not left the Aeternica, he had no idea who two of them were. The third, however...
The Dume in the lead dismounted and removed his helm. He had shaved his beard at some point in the intervening months, but Nerris knew those twinkling eyes and that head of gray hair.
“Rade,” he said, clasping hands with his old comrade’s gauntlet. The old man’s smile was infectious.
“Nerris,” Rade said. “I received word you had come back to us and I scarcely believed it, given our last conversation.”
“Circumstances beyond my control,” Nerris said. “It’s good to see you again.”
“Aye, you as well,” Rade said. “I have to admit, I almost didn’t recognize my own alias. Everyone calls me Dume Yorne now.”
“Yorne Radenos Regnak,” Nerris said, remembering what Professor Borrel had said about the Black Prophecies belonging to a place called Regnak Manor. “And what other fine gentlemen has Qabala raised to the Aeternal Council?”
The Dume on the right removed his helm, and Nerris recognized him also. Colonel Quin stared down at him with tired eyes. “Hello, Commander.”
Nerris clasped hands with his former subordinate. “I no longer command anyone, but it’s nice to see wisdom at work. The Aeterna couldn’t have picked a better man for the job.” And he meant it. Quin was a good man and a promising commander. It surprised Nerris that he actually approved of one of Qabala’s decisions.
The third Dume-General dismounted and removed his helm. This man’s face was marked by dark hair and a patch over his left eye. Nerris hadn’t thought to be acquainted with all three Dume-Generals, but this one was a shock. Not a pleasant one, either.
“Nerris Palada.” Valez Vaed’s voice dripped with sarcasm. “Such a pleasure to see you once again.”
Nerris’s free hand went to his hilt, until he remembered he held a practice sword. Valez watched his movements with amusement. “What is he doing here?” he asked Rade between clenched teeth.
“You already know each other?” Quin asked.
“You’ll have to pardon my fellows,” Valez said. “They went through great lengths to get me here, and I did not have time to fill them in on our history. Even if I had expected to see you.” He turned to Quin. “Nerris and I were schooled together as cadets of Gauntlet.”
“Truly?” Rade asked Nerris.
“You no longer have that distinction,” Nerris said to Valez. “Your name was wiped from the records when you betrayed us to King Ullas’s army.” A familiar hate burned within him at the sight of the traitor. Valez and his friends had formed a company much like the Thrillseekers after the Liberation, and they had their share of encounters over the years, neither group ever quite able to put an end to the other. Until Miagama and the Akuma War, when Valez had lost Tarias Dinge and Maria Whitewater, the only two people he had ever cared for.
“Betrayal?” Quin said.
“Old history, your Constancy,” Valez said. “Nerris and I were born to hate each other. Masters with a blade, conflicting ideals, you know how it is.”
“Trust me, I don’t hate you near as much as King Owen does,” Nerris said.
Valez smiled. “Then I look forward to the day when our paths cross again.”
“I wouldn’t,” Nerris said. “He’ll kill you on sight. I’m struggling hard not to do the same right now.”
The riders behind the Dume-Generals cast nervous glances at each other, and Nerris could hear excited murmurs from the boys behind him. Valez merely scowled at the perceived challenge, reminding Nerris much of days gone by at Gauntlet when the dark-haired Yagol didn’t get his way.
Valez snorted. “That would be a neat trick with a blunted blade. Whatever happened to that katana you carried in Miagama? Did you bury it with Ketsuya?”
Nerris lunged at him, but Rade got in between them. “No, Nerris.”
“When I get my sword back I’ll bury it in that inflated skull of yours,” Nerris said. “Don’t you ever mention Ketsuya’s name.”
Rade turned to his fellow Dumes. “Your Constancies, we have had a long ride. I suggest you go to your quarters and refresh yourselves. Nerris, I would like a word in private.”
Nerris reluctantly tore his gaze from Valez’s sneering face and grunted. “Of course, your Constancy.”
He handed off his sword to one of the wide-eyed recruits and followed Rade into the keep and down a corridor, which wound around toward the palace gardens. It was late spring now, and the flowers were in full bloom. Purple, red, and lavender petals dotted the landscape of the garden, along with well-trimmed hedges and a few trees. A family of robins had even nested in one. As ever, the birds cared nothing about magical stones or cults. Life found its way, even in this bastion of sorrow.
“I have to say you look splendid in your new armor,” Nerris said. “The last time I saw you it was difficult to think of you as anyone except Rade, but now I see the Dume-General that once was.”
“Thank you,” Rade said, “though I fear, as ever, I am the rogue among the faithful.”
“Hardly. Lukas is timid, Falares is a bully, and where in the world did you dig up Valez Vaed?”
“Dume Valez now,” Rade said. “We’re supposed to give up our surnames and familial connections when we vow to uph
old the Law of Eight.”
Nerris nodded. “Still, you are perhaps the only one who has Qabala’s true interests at heart.” He noticed Rade look around, as if to make sure no one listened. “You still haven’t told her, have you?”
“No,” Rade said. “I would aim to keep our secret just that. Tell me, Nerris, what have you been up to since you left us?”
“I did what you suggested,” Nerris said. “I went home. You were right, Rade. I am the Catalyst, and I’ve found the Stonechaser. She is here, imprisoned in the dungeons with my friends.”
Rade stopped, his eyes wide. “Here? This is disaster, Nerris! I never meant for the Stonechaser to cross paths with Qabala.”
“We didn’t have much choice,” Nerris said. “I don’t know how, but Qabala knew we were in Yagolhan and sent her thugs to grab us. And that’s not the worst of it. She has the first beacon, the treasure we took from a place forged by King Jinn himself.”
Rade shook his head. “Qabala has been questioning Prince Lahnel’s earth cleric. She knows all about the Stonechaser Prophecy and thinks she must have both stones.”
“I know,” Nerris said. “All she has talked about is Dist, Jhareth, and myself helping her find the Exemplus.”
“Qabala cannot be allowed to have them,” Rade said. “To do so would allow her absolute power. Should she wish for Eversor to be allowed entrance to this world, no one could stop her.”
“But if we find the Exemplus first, Len-Ahl will use it to fight the Fatexion. Are you sure you would be able to let your own daughter be destroyed, Rade?”
“It’s not quite as simple as all that,” Rade said. “You are a warrior and think in terms of battle. The fight of the two stones is not about destroying the other, but correcting what was done to it in antiquity.”
“What do you mean?”
“Back when I served Yahd Aeternus, I was still troubled by my old life,” Rade said. “My uncle, a once bright man who had practically raised me, was deteriorating into madness before my eyes. No one knew the cause, and I sought answers. I found them in an obscure tome in his manor, a collection of premonitions called the Black Prophecies.”
“I’ve heard something of this book,” Nerris said.
“That was where I learned of the nature of Eversor, the Tattered Man, the Doom Rock, all of it,” Rade said. “Guided by the spirit of Queen Angelica, I tracked down every prophecy I could to find a way to stop what was to come. I finally came across the Stonechaser Prophecy and set out to find the Catalyst and the Stonechaser, even at the expense of my vow to the Aeternus. What I found was your father.”
“And you defeated the Tattered Man.”
“For a time,” Rade said. “As you’ve no doubt seen from the fanatics in the streets, he is beginning to regain his power. But I was mistaken. The time was not yet ripe for both stones to emerge, and Derrin Palada was neither the Catalyst nor the Stonechaser. Now I believe that time has come. You must take the Stonechaser and leave this place, Nerris, no matter what the cost.”
“And if we do find the Exemplus?” Nerris asked. “Where will you stand?”
“I will be loyal to my daughter. To the end.”
“I see,” Nerris said. “You’ll fight against us to protect her?”
“You still don’t understand,” Rade said. “The stones will not destroy each other, because to do so would destroy the essence of our world. Indeed, they are two halves of the same power. They are not meant to fight each other; they are meant to be reunited.”
“And the Stoneholder will have the power to acknowledge or deny Eversor for good,” Nerris finished. “Either the corruption of the Doom Rock spreads or it is expunged.” It made sense. Two stones who shared equal power would only cancel the other out. They needed to banish Eversor from this world, not merely delay him again.
Rade nodded. “I wish to meet the Stonechaser. I have to be sure this time. Do you think she will answer my questions?”
“Len-Ahl is fairly secretive, even to her friends,” Nerris said. “She may be more forthcoming if I’m with you, but Qabala won’t let me into the dungeons. She thinks if I’m allowed to confer with Dist and Jhareth that we’ll find a way to escape.”
“We have no choice,” Rade said. “If I have to, I’ll sneak you in.”
Nerris laughed. “That’s only appropriate, Rade. The last time I enjoyed the hospitality of Qabala’s dungeons, it was you who sneaked me out.”
Chapter Thirty
LEN-AHL’S ROUGH WOOL blanket lay unused on the straw pallet of her cell. There was no need for it down here. Darkness consumed the dungeon, the only light seeping in from torches outside in the corridor. She was underground, she knew, yet she was warm, as if one of Dist’s fires burned a few feet away, and could not explain why.
She felt the absence of the Faery Realm in this place. Even the gnomes who followed the will of Gobe were not present in this catacomb. It was because of the strong presence of the Cult of Eversor, she realized. This was the place Eversor planned to enter their world, and his essence was too much for the faeries to bear. She did not like what that meant for this city. The faeries were the caretakers of the world and their absence meant eventual woe for Palehorse.
She huddled in the corner of her cell, her backside aching as it pressed against the stone floor. She had dreamed this back in Orrigo. Ever since she had begun playing the melody referred to as “Paral’s breath,” visions had come to her unbidden. So many possibilities, and this was the one to come true. She had not told the others because of all those possible futures. Though their ride to Palehorse had been hard on all of them, she took comfort in the feeling accompanying her dreams, the feeling that something important was meant to happen here.
That did not mean it had not hurt her when Nerris’s connection with the Yagol queen was revealed. Those emotions hit her unexpectedly. Nerris had the right to give his love to whomever he wished. She had not even met him when he and Qabala were keeping company. Yet it hurt all the same. In spite of his warrior’s reputation, Nerris was a gentle man. What had he seen in that vile woman who housed such corruption within her?
“Human men have a reputation for being simpler creatures than females,” her mother had once told her. “Yet if the menfolk rule their world, why is there such disparity? There are rough, gentle, violent, and peaceful men. Some kings have destroyed nations where others forged peaceful alliances. Some men seek out status and the truths of the world to the end of their days, while some are content with their plowshares, looking no further than the edge of their fields.”
Len-Ahl sighed. She missed her mother so much at times. For twenty-one years, they lived in that patch of forest together. All it had taken was the span of a moment, and she was alone. It was a difficult adjustment to make.
She had known about her ultimate journey as long as she could remember. Her mother told her stories of the Exemplus and the Fatexion and how it had once been a single stone, until the event the faeries called the Day of Sundering. She had been immersed in the faeries’ magical lore, which had manifested itself in her music.
Mother had warned her innocence would be tested, that it would be hard on her, both in mind and body. Only now that she had some real experience in the world did Len-Ahl understand the complex nature of humans, their cruelty and their gentleness, their selfishness and generosity. It was one thing to be told, another to do. The faeries she had grown up with were not like that. They were cut from a single roll of cloth, but colored differently. Salamanders with their flames, sylphs gliding through the air, undines splashing in the water, and gnomes toiling in the earth. Humans were cut from many different fabrics. Wool, cotton, silk; humans had much variety.
When her mother disappeared, she knew the time for her journey was near. And then she met Nerris. He was the first human she had ever gotten to know, and her own humanity soared whenever they were together. She had always been close to the Faery Realm, but Nerris completed her human side, a part of her she never even knew ex
isted. Though she knew it would complicate matters, she could not help it. His caring nature and kindness earned her admiration, and eventually her love.
But then she had played the song of the prophecy, and the dreams began. She saw many visions of the future, but all of them shared one trait: she and Nerris were not meant to be together. In one future, he grew to love her in return. However, she spurned him in order to avoid the other future, the one she did not even want to consider. It had brought on intense feelings of hatred from Nerris, and it was all Len-Ahl could do to avoid screaming as she awakened.
A key in the lock of her cell jolted her out of her thoughts. The rusted hinges squealed as the door swung open. Len-Ahl squinted into the torchlight, but could not make out the two men who entered. She knew they were male; it was in their stature, the way they walked, and that smell of sinewy sweat which seemed to permeate in human men. Remembering the stares of the soldiers on the road and the leering of the foul man Falares, she shrank back into her corner.
“Don’t be alarmed,” said a pleasant voice. He set his torch in a sconce and threw back his hood. A gray-haired man stared at her. Though elderly, his eyes gave off a youthful twinkle, reflecting the torchlight.
The other man threw back his hood, and her heart lifted. “Nerris!” She tried to rise, but stumbled in her excitement and fell back into the corner.
“Easy, Len-Ahl,” Nerris said. He held out a hand and helped her to her feet, and she found herself in his warm embrace. “Are you all right? Have Qabala’s men harmed you in any way?”
“No,” she said. “They left me down here in the dark. I have been so frightened.”
“We’ll see about getting you out of here real soon,” the other man said. “Such a lovely lady shouldn’t be hidden down here.”
Len-Ahl smiled at the graybeard. She liked him already.
“This is Rade,” Nerris said. “I knew him from my previous stint in Qabala’s army, and he is now one of her Dume-Generals. He’s the one who set me on the path which led me to you. He knows about the prophecy, the Catalyst, all of it.”
Secrets of the Stonechaser (The Law of Eight Book 1) Page 27