Protector of Thristas: A Lisen of Solsta Novel

by D. Hart St. Martin

  “Feelings,” Rinli replied. “I will.”

  Lisen looked to Korin who joined Rinli at her side. “Remember. Only a month-and-a-half.”

  “A month-and-a-half,” he agreed and heard his voice catch. Why was this farewell so hard? What was he missing?

  “Hozia,” Lisen said, “thank you for your hospitality. I’m still waiting to welcome you to Avaret.”

  “My Liege, I may have waited too long. The body makes its demands, and this body demands I not make any long trips again. But we shall see.”

  “I can send a coach for you once you get over the Pass.”

  Hozia nodded, looked to Korin who smiled, then back to Lisen. “To echo our new Protector, safe journey.”

  Lisen smiled, fixed Korin with a look, then turned her horse out of the stable. Insenlo, the holder and the two guards stepped in right behind her, and within one brief moment the stable fell into silence and loneliness.

  And then Korin thought and realized Lisen wasn’t the only one who ran from the inevitable. His gut, empty, made to heave, but he managed to hold it back.

  It isn’t the separation, he thought. We’ve survived separation before. It’s…it’s… He dared not think it, but it persisted and it was this. It wasn’t the separation. It was the aching suspicion that time was their enemy.

  Plagued by fears she couldn’t order to silence, Lisen, head down, gave her horse full rein to follow the guard leading their party up the desert side of the Rim to the Pass, her mind droning on, feeding her anxiety. Rin. You’re not… Korin. Oh, Creators, Korin. I’ve left them undefended. I can’t help them.

  Stop. You worry. Let it be.

  What if the haters unite? Korin and Rinli are—

  Korin knows how to—

  He’s just one man.

  “My Liege?”

  “Huh? What?” The horses had stopped. They’d reached the opening to the Pass where she and the captain in front of her were to briefly part company with the others, allowing them to continue on while they detoured to Pass Garrison. “Oh, yes,” she replied, fully in the present. “Yes, let’s go.” She nodded to the guard, and as she turned her horse in the direction of the garrison, she caught Nalin looking at her. He worried, too, and normally his worrying took care of hers but not this time. There was too much worry for just one. Then their connection broke, and he moved on with the second guard and Insenlo while she and the captain headed up the slight rise. When they reached Pass Garrison’s gate, they heard shouting from within.

  “She’s here!”

  “Tell the commander!”

  “Open the gate, you fool!”

  Lisen smiled. They’d no doubt seen the group of Garlans approaching from below and had known to expect them. Now they would relinquish their under-commander to her promotion to commander in Avaret.

  The sound of gears in motion, and the metal gate rose slowly, finally revealing several guards standing just beyond.

  “My Liege,” one of them said, stepping forward and offering to lead her horse inside. She shook her head.

  “Thank you, but no. I can do it.” Only once before had she visited this distant garrison of her realm. On her first journey to the desert as Empir with Rinli and Korin, she’d stopped here to fill in the guards stationed here of the plans for the garrison. Some thought she’d moved prematurely in offering her explanation years before the final plans were to be set into place. She, on the other hand, knew there’d be gossip, and she wanted to squelch it, allow them to obsess over the truth rather than over a fiction born of too many mouths sharing it and too much misinterpretation from one mouth to the next. Under-commander Cunbae had thanked her in a letter she’d received many weeks later. “I heard what you said to them,” he’d written, “but damned if I can pinpoint the moment you won them over.” She believed it was the promise that they’d be supported throughout the transition and the guarantee they’d retain their commissions if they were willing to serve where assigned.

  Now all that was over. The garrison housed about half the number of guards that it had originally, and two of the animal handlers at the Keep were breeding and training crevix to carry messages back and forth between here and Avaret. Lisen had suggested it but then could offer no advice on how to accomplish this crevix training. So for the last five years these two had worked away at making it happen. The last she’d checked, they’d assured her they were very close. They could get the birds to fly in one direction—apparently it didn’t matter which one—but not return. Lisen had faith they would resolve the issue, but for now the guards of Pass Garrison had to depend on fast horses and hard-riding messengers if a crisis were to occur. Luckily they’d kept the horses and hands at about half of the stations they’d set up in preparation for the One-Day War.

  Lisen pulled her steed up at the bottom of the stairs and looked up at Kopol at the top. The under-commander’s blue eyes smiled before her mouth moved, and she broke free of her frozen stance and trotted down the stairs. Lisen dismounted, immediately a guard took the horse, and Kopol reached her and saluted, fist to chest.

  “My Liege.” Kopol said nothing more. It was up to Lisen to extend the invitation. Everything was set, but an under-commander, like all Emperi guards, served at the order of her Empir.

  “Under-commander Kopol, I name you my commander and order you to return with me to Avaret where your promotion will be finalized.” Lisen had felt the entire garrison contingent awaiting the end of her declaration. As one, they gave out a shout, and Kopol nodded around to them with a grin. They immediately grew silent, waiting.

  “My Liege, I accept this calling and will join you on your journey to Avaret. Captain Rono?”

  “Commander?” a man said as he stepped out of the crowd of guards. This, too, was part of the ritual.

  “I hereby promote you to under-commander of Pass Garrison.”

  The captain saluted his Empir and then Kopol. “It is an honor, Commander.”

  “My Liege?” Kopol then said, turning to Lisen who clapped the woman’s well-muscled upper arm.

  This woman, Lisen remembered, had once—no, twice—stepped into danger on Lisen’s behalf. First the rescue at the Khared and then her successful search for the gryl that had provided Lisen a vision that limited the war between Garla and Thristas to less than a day.

  “Well, then, let’s go. Our comrades await us on the other side of the Pass anxious to move on.” Lisen remounted her horse, and a stable hand brought Kopol’s out, two packs on its haunches behind the saddle. Everything Kopol owned fit into those two satchels, and Lisen recalled a time when she needed only one for her possessions. A long time ago.

  They rode off, leaving the garrison behind. Pass Garrison’s guards followed them out of the gate and stopped just past it, waving and well-wishing.

  They made their way through the Pass single file, leaving Lisen alone with her thoughts which whipped right back to where they’d been as they climbed up the Rim. Damn dread. For good reasons and for no reason at all. That worried her—not the logical fear for Rinli alone amongst the Thristans. It was the fear she couldn’t define that paralyzed her.

  All the way back to Avaret, she’d fight the obsession. And lose. Something was wrong. She could feel it. Or was it just unfounded fretting? She couldn’t tell.

  “I didn’t like being coerced into joining Korin’s rescue party. I didn’t know him, and I didn’t give a damn about his Empir. But Hozia was a friend. Not anymore, I’ll tell you. Ever since I stood there on that battlefield covered in the blood of my friends and watched that little magician use her power to convince us all that she knew the way to peace. Ack.”

  Tinlo sat on the floor of Gema Etos’ chamber listening to the man as he revealed his experiences during the time leading up to and following the One-Day War. As the only person who would admit to being a member of Korin Rosarel’s mission to save his Empir from the Thristan rebels who had kidnapped her, he offered a rare perspective. Tinlo had made his way to Gema’s cave long befor
e anyone else was up, and he’d already sat here for nearly an hour endeavoring to coax the story from the man.

  “What did you see at the Khared?” Tinlo asked. “I’ve heard she killed all seven of her captors, but how?”

  “Magic. Sounds like a simple answer, I know, but I’ll tell you. That woman was blind from the gryl and couldn’t have overcome seven alone without using powers we can’t understand. And the place—and her—a bloody mess. I mean, the blood was everywhere. She killed any way she could, and it was brutal. Then she presents herself on the battlefield, all clean and fancy, once again on the gryl, as the bringer of peace and offers her baby as a token of that peace? Makes me spit just thinking about it.”

  “But how did Elder Hozia convince all the Elders to agree to the Empir’s terms?”

  “You’d have to ask an Elder. But there was a rumor that the Elders of every mesa sent Hozia to represent them. So it might have been out of their hands at that point.”

  “Hozia? She’d hand anything to the Garlans.”

  “So we learned.”

  “Tell me something,” Tinlo said, scooting in closer to Gema. “How many do you think support the treaty? I mean, just here in Mesa Terses.”

  “If you ask them, probably over half would say they do.” Gema shook his head. “But if you could see the truth in their hearts? I’d say none, or likely close to.”

  “So if something were to happen to our new Protector…”

  “They’d all tell Korin what a tragedy it was, but secretly they’d celebrate.”

  Tinlo nodded.

  “Why do you ask? You planning on doing something, boy?”

  “No. Oh, no. Just curious is all.”

  “You like that girl, Arma’s girl. Madlen, is it? And she’s all wrapped up around the Rosarel girl.”

  Tinlo said nothing. Silence may signal guilt, but if he maintained it, Gema couldn’t testify against him if the time ever came.

  He rose and gave Gema a slight bow. “Thank you for your time, especially while it’s still quiet.”

  “Be careful. To continue down this path could be tragic. You have little to gain and much to lose.”

  “Since I’ve not chosen any path, I can’t see how doing nothing could be tragic.”

  Gema shook his head. “I’m forty-three years out, and you’re what? Eighteen?”

  “Nineteen.”

  “You’re young. Don’t be foolish.”

  Feeling his face heat up, Tinlo quickly nodded and left. Forty-three, is he. He doesn’t know me. His thoughts roiled as he bounded down the tunnels. The destruction wrought by the despot who would have everything appalled him. She’d called it peace, and yet her rule and the rule of her predecessors had done nothing but destroy the lives of The People. He’d watched her pass the keys to Thristan bondage on to her daughter, and he’d felt sick. And to think that this three-quarter Garlan girl—yes, all Thristans knew exactly how much she wasn’t Thristan—had enchanted his Madlen.

  He looked up and realized his feet had brought him here, to the chamber set aside for Korin’s children. Would his bane be lying here? He’d never dare even consider taking Rinli on while she shared her father’s quarters, but if she were here…

  He approached the draped entry cautiously. Wouldn’t do to wake her and give himself away. He pulled the material aside, hoping the light from the torch would illuminate the little cave without lighting it up so brightly that it awoke the sleeper. He stared for a moment, his eyes, his mind refusing to focus on, much less believe, what he saw. He backed away, sickened, a silent scream tearing through his body. He braced himself against the opposite wall, his breath coming in heaves. He tore back up the tunnel, away, away from what he’d seen. Rinli. She lay on the pallet, arms and legs entwined. With another. Sleeping soundly. With another. With Madlen.

  Another day of riding. Yet another infinite day of riding. Would it never end? Lisen knew they would reach Avaret today, but that was abstract, and the reality remained. She’d left her spouse and her daughter behind in a place that could potentially prove hostile to them, and although she trusted Korin with her life and knew better than anyone how he valued their children above all else, he remained but one man against a tribe or, perhaps, a nation. He couldn’t defeat everyone to save Rinli.

  In the two weeks here on the road following the investiture, she’d wound herself up in so many what-ifs that her head buzzed with all the horrific potential consequences to this step they’d finally taken. She’d shut herself off from the banter of the road in favor of the horrible visions swirling in her mind. Both Nalin and Kopol had attempted to engage her, but she’d given them little to grab on to for conversation, mumbling only the expected courtesy responses and then lapsing back into her dark thoughts.

  Why? Why did I think handing my daughter over to them would solve all the problems between us? It seemed wise at the time, but I was barely nineteen and hopped up on gryl. What did I know of wisdom? I knew nothing. I hadn’t even met the child when I first offered her up to them, and I bargained her life away in favor of what? A trumped-up truce to put off the inevitable?

  Her brain rambled on, unstoppable, indefatigable, unrelenting in its cruel ravings. She was damned, and no one could save her.

  At best…well, Lisen held out no hope that the best—Rinli working with her mother to ease the transition—would ever manifest. At second best, the Thristans would win Rinli over entirely, and she would ultimately lead them against Garla and her mother. That, Lisen could live with. Or die with, as the case may be. At worst? She could barely bring herself to think it, but think it she must, fooling her obsessive thinking into believing that what could be imagined could be managed. At worst, Korin and Rinli would both end up dead. Perhaps even worse than that, her witnessing their deaths. Blood and horror washed through her like a plague on the run.

  And if, indeed, something tragic did happen, it would be weeks before she knew about it and could do nothing to stop it.

  “Well, there you are.”

  Lisen looked up at Nalin’s words and realized they’d just crested the last hill into the park. Before them, still in the distance, the great white Keep rose up.

  “Uh, yes,” she replied. “Home.” She couldn’t disguise her relief. Not relief for her own safety, but for Nalin’s. She hadn’t been able to keep her promise to Bala to leave him here, but at least she could be grateful that she’d brought him back to Bala safe. “Are you going to head straight out?”

  Nalin turned and smiled at her as they approached the stable. “No. I need a rest in a soft bed. I’ll leave for Seffa tomorrow.”

  “Why don’t I send a message to Bala, let her know you’re on your way?”

  “Thank you, my Liege,” Nalin replied.

  “And would you like to take my carriage?”

  “Oh.” She watched him think about it. “No. I don’t think so. After days in that wagon, I’m weary of wheels on rough roads.”

  “I understand.”

  “Besides I’ll make it faster on my own.”

  “Of course.” But Lisen had returned to retreating. She’d learned what she needed to know—Nalin, gone tomorrow, on a horse.

  At some unknown signal, the hands all rushed out of the barn, ready to take on the nobles’ horses, leaving the guards, including Kopol, to fend on their own. As Lisen pulled her horse up, she turned back to Nalin. “Dinner tonight?” she asked.

  “Yes,” he said as he started to dismount. “I need to clean up first. Meet you where?” Lisen watched him transfer from horse to ground. He’d grown quite adept at it over the years. Standing on one foot and using his horse as an aid to balancing, he easily attached his wooden foot. Then, cane in hand, he signaled to the stable hand beside him to take the horse away.

  “My office?” she replied, dropping to the ground herself. “That way if anything’s come up while I’ve been gone, we can discuss it there, then have a quiet, uninterrupted dinner.”

  “Give me an hour,” Nalin said and
headed off to the old palace, going around the east side of the Keep. Lisen sighed and started towards the portico, but a voice behind her stopped her.

  “My Liege?”

  She turned and saw Kopol standing, looking a little lost. As Lisen waited for Kopol to speak, Insenlo ran up and put her arm around her mother.

  “I like being home,” the girl confided softly. Lisen nodded, her eyes still on her soon-to-be commander, and rested her arm on Insenlo’s shoulders.

  “Looking for orders?” she asked of Kopol.

  “I am.”

  “Report to Tanres. She’ll fill you in.”

  “Aye, my Liege.” Kopol saluted, fist to chest, and marched her way into the Keep.

  “Well, little one, shall we see if we can find your brother?”

  Insenlo skipped out in front of her mother, then turned to skip backwards facing Lisen. “Is Rin going to be all right?” she asked playfully, but Lisen recognized concern in her tone.

  “I hope so,” Lisen replied as she urged Sen forward toward the portico. And as a dozen different scenarios of potential destruction danced their dark way through Lisen’s head, her mind repeated those three words as a mantra. I hope so. Oh, I hope so. Hope was all she had left, and each vision she pictured slowly eroded what little hope she possessed into oblivion.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  DON’T!

  “But did you see what they did with it once it was done?”

  Rinli and Madlen sat cross-legged on the floor in the mesa’s great kitchen, all the dishes washed in the stone basin, dried and ready for the morning’s dinner. A stew simmered in several pots on the grate over the fire, and there was nothing for two young women assigned to kitchen duty to tackle at the moment. So they sat in the corner behind a cupboard and giggled together over something that had happened close to ten years ago, when Madlen was nine and Rinli, six. As Rinli laughed, she knew the topic of their conversation was trivial, but their camaraderie was vital to the preservation of her strength.