The Cycle of Arawn: The Complete Epic Fantasy Trilogy

by Edward W. Robertson

  "Yep."

  "Listen, isn't it about time you told me what your plans are?"

  Blays snorted. "I saved your life, and you think I owe you more?"

  "Are you forgetting the only reason you were in position to do so was the miracle of life bestowed upon you by me?"

  "Hey, I never asked to be resurrected." Blays laughed, then grew sober. "Truth is, I was planning to leave in a couple days."

  "Oh."

  "Been meaning to tell you."

  "Well," Dante said. "I'd wish you luck, but you seem to find it wherever you go."

  "Thanks." A slow grin spread across Blays' face. "But who said it was for good?"

  Two days later, Dante heard him ride away. He didn't go to the window. Either he'd see him again or he wouldn't.

  Dante returned his attention to the administration of Narashtovik. Negotiating the price of grain with Tantonnen wasn't the pinnacle of excitement, but after the last few months, he was happy to be bored again. The days of Thaws came and went. Dante ordered a gravestone from the artist who did most of the Citadel's work. When it came in, he put together a carriage and a small contingent and rode toward the Woduns. Their peaks were still white, but many of the lower slopes had become green again.

  In Soll, he hired Vinsin as a guide. Vinsin showed him to a spot in the woods beside the stream where he'd often seen Ast spend time. Dante dug a hole and the troops he'd brought with him helped him plant the stone in the ground.

  "'Ast Modell,'" Vinsin read. "'Son of the Elsen, Hero of the Rashen.' What does it mean?"

  Dante stepped back. "That there's always hope for peace."

  He returned to Narashtovik. They called for volunteers for a diplomatic mission to Spiren, then Dante and Somburr spent weeks teaching them Weslean, telling them what to expect, and drawing them maps of the region. As summer neared, the team headed east. They were never heard from again.

  Shortly after their departure, Dante sailed to Houkkalli Island, made port, and hiked up the path to the mountain. Beneath the cliffs of the Hanassans, he met the old monk and they sat in the sun.

  "You found it," the old monk said. "How did you use it?"

  "To bring a dead man back to life."

  "Remarkable. And then it disappeared?"

  Dante nodded, explaining how it had felt, how a million doors of possibility had stood before him. "As soon as I stepped through one, the others went away. So did Cellen."

  The monk rubbed his chin. "Let's back up. How did you find it to begin with?"

  "Brace yourself for a long story," Dante laughed. Over the next hour, he told the old man everything.

  When he finished, the monk shook his head. "If a third party had related that story, I wouldn't believe half of it."

  "I've told you nothing but the truth. All of it. I know I owed you that much, but I have a favor to request in return for the knowledge I've brought you."

  "You can ask. It remains to be seen if I'll grant it."

  "I used Cellen in Corl," Dante said. "That means, in a thousand years, it will return there."

  "You want us to stop them from using it against Narashtovik? This is a peaceful order."

  "I know that. I intend to detail everything that's happened. Should Narashtovik survive another millennium, I will have done everything in my power to prepare them." He looked up at the patchy clouds. "But I've learned how easily the past is lost. I ask you to preserve this story, too. And when the time comes, if Narashtovik has forgotten, to remind them."

  "You are young, but you make a wise leader." The old monk clasped his hands. "I will do this for you."

  Dante bowed and made his way back down the mountain.

  Shortly after his return to Narashtovik, a courier arrived from Setteven. While Gant assigned the messenger a room, Dante brought the letter upstairs and knocked on Olivander's door.

  Once Olivander answered, Dante waved the sealed parchment through the air. "It appears we have the honor of a letter from the king!"

  "Should I put on a clean shirt?" Olivander said. "What's it say?"

  Dante broke the red wax and scanned the contents. As usual, the good stuff was packed into the end. "He's...requesting a loan."

  "Of money?"

  "Indeed."

  "From us?"

  "This has to be a trick, right? Should I send Moddegan's courier back with a tracing of my middle finger?"

  Olivander took the letter and sat down to read it to completion. Finished, he set it aside and tapped the tip of his nose. "This smacks of legitimacy. Either that or he's very good at faking wounded pride."

  "Okay, but we have absolutely no motivation to loan him a single penny." Dante narrowed his eyes. "Unless."

  They sent the courier back with a message that they would consider the offer, then sent Somburr to join his spies in Setteven. After a couple of weeks, Somburr reported that the request was legit: Moddegan had made a series of bad investments. If he was unable to pay maintenance on his holdings, Gask would be plunged into chaos. Perhaps even civil war.

  "Is that something we want?" Olivander said. This time, they were in the Council chambers, the table awash in figures and reports. "At minimum, some of his people will starve. If it comes to conflict, thousands of civilians will die."

  "And if he fell, we'd have to maneuver to make sure the replacement was to our liking." Dante pressed his palms together. "I don't want to become entangled in another conflict. Or watch him take it out on the peasants. We'll give him his loan—but he's not going to like the strings it comes attached to."

  42

  Before he'd sailed to Narashtovik with nearly the entire contingent of the People of the Pocket, Blays had made sure to retrieve his horses from the north end of the bay, and in a nifty piece of negotiating, had even talked Ro into letting him take them with him on the ship. Figuring that the mounts weren't cut out for mountain crossings (and that they deserved a rest), he'd stabled them in Narashtovik during the incursion into Weslee.

  That meant one was ready and waiting to make the long ride back to Pocket Cove.

  It was that time of winter when, like trying to explain to a drunken party guest that they needed to go home, all you could do was sigh that it was still there. It was cold, but not that cold; it snowed and then melted, then rained instead. Dante had given him a nice chunk of riding-around money, and he was in no extra-special hurry, so Blays passed the nights of travel in a series of snug inns.

  As miserable as the weather was, he felt good. Perhaps even great. Maybe it was the feeling of having been granted a second chance. Maybe when he'd died, he'd brought something back with him—or left something else behind.

  Or maybe his feeling was no more than the optimism all trips start out with, when you know exactly what you must do and the world hasn't yet stood up to say "No, sorry, that's not how things are going to play out."

  Whatever the case, he was happy.

  Since he was in no hurry, and wasn't particularly fond of the idea of setting foot within fifty miles of Setteven ever again, he took the path through Gallador. Snow sat on its mountains. Wending looked peaceful enough, with smoke puffing from chimneys and people going about their business as always. He stopped by Lolligan's long enough to relay the gist of what had happened over the last few weeks, then left his horse with the old man and continued on foot.

  He walked through the pass in the western peaks and descended to the long plains. The black line of Pocket Cove solidified on the horizon. As he approached the cliffs, a woman appeared atop them.

  "Fancy seeing you here," Minn called.

  Blays tipped back his head and laughed. "Have you been waiting up there this whole time?"

  "Nope. I guess you're just lucky."

  "That I am." He climbed up the stairs, wrapped her in his arms, and kissed her.

  She didn't respond. In the moment, he didn't care that it was a mistake. He was proud of himself for making it.

  To his surprise, she put her arms around him and kissed him back.
Too soon, she drew away, eyes shifting between his. "Well, that was fun. Now what?"

  "We do it again?"

  They did, but she drew back a second time. "That's very fun. Everything I'd hoped for. And we both know it won't work."

  Blays creased his brow. "I'd say it's working fine."

  "I'm glad for you. Is it working so well you're willing to stay here with it forever?"

  Streamers of fog peeled away from the Fingers. "I thought..."

  Minn smiled. "That I'd throw myself into your arms and ride off with you?"

  "I happen to think it's the best idea I've ever had!"

  "It's a nice dream. But this is my family and I love learning what they have to teach me. When we were away from them, I realized I could never bring myself to leave it. This is my life."

  He might have crumbled then, argued or given up or wheedled until the fragile thing they had together frayed apart. But it rolled off him as lightly as the mist on the rocky pillars.

  "I'll stay here a while. We'll talk to Ro. And we'll see."

  She blew air between her teeth. "It would have to be the same as it was before. I'll teach you more, if you like, but that's it. I won't hand you my heart before you can pledge this is where you want to stay."

  It would have been the easiest thing in the world to assure her that he would never grow tired of Pocket Cove. Not so long as he was with her! But he knew himself too well for that, and loved her too much to lie.

  "Agreed," he said, then darted in to peck her on the mouth again. "That's the last one. For now. Promise."

  "That was a cheap move," she said. "As punishment, you get to be the one to talk to Ro."

  They walked through the Fingers together. When he saw the waves breaking on the beach, he grinned. His merriment faded as she escorted him through the tunnels to Ro. The woman sat in her room beneath a pile of blankets. Minn withdrew, feet rasping down the hall.

  Blays sat down across from Ro. "Well, we did it. It wasn't perfect. But Cellen is gone and there won't be any war."

  She eyed him. "Fine. I don't care either way. Which you know. So why have you come back?"

  "Same as before," he shrugged.

  "Wrong. You partnered with Dante to retrieve Cellen. He's through hunting you; I saw it in his face. If you lie to me again, this conversation is over."

  He closed his eyes. "For Minn."

  Her brows shot up. Carefully, she drew them back into place. "I won't let you take her from here."

  "She won't let me do that. I'm asking to be given the chance to stay and find out whether I can learn to love this corner of the earth as well as she does."

  Ro sat in her blankets in silence. "If you make me regret this, I'll make you regret it worse."

  He stood and bowed. "I can assure you that I would take care of that myself."

  He walked into the hall. Minn stood a short ways down it. She saw the look on his face and smiled. "You're too convincing for your own good."

  "Now let's see if I can convince myself."

  In his heart, he knew he couldn't make Pocket Cove his home. But perhaps his heart could change.

  A week later, as they sat at the pools playing with the nether, Minn leaned back, resting her hand on the rock. He reached for it. She withdrew it and sighed.

  "How are you so good at not being bad?" he said.

  "Because I'll be happy with or without you."

  "Hmm," he said. "I think that sounds much ruder than it actually is."

  "What's the point of this? You know you can't be happy here."

  He rested his forearms on his knees. "Quit knowing me so well."

  He refused to get frustrated—or to lose hope. He had seen too much of what else was out there to believe that, as much as he wanted this, his entire future depended on making it work. Day by day, Minn refined his skill with the nether. They shadowalked further and further until one day he started at the north end of the bay and made it all the way to the southern tip before he had to step back out into the real world.

  One day early in this process, a warm wind blew in from the south, chasing winter away for good. For a few days, it was warm enough to lie on the sand with their skin exposed to the sun. This was beyond nice, and if he'd been able to see the rest of what was hidden beneath her underclothes, it would've been indisputably perfect.

  Yet he knew that, sooner or later, he would no longer be happy to be enclosed in such a small closet of the world.

  An unsolvable problem. He knew his nature and she knew hers. Natures could change, nature itself was proof of that, but if he left without her, he doubted that he'd be back, or that she'd want him to come back. Now was the time, the only time they'd have, and maybe that was why he didn't admit it was futile and walk away: this was it. And if "it" was nothing more than a couple more weeks spent walking together through the nether, then at least he would have that to remember in later years.

  He gave himself a deadline. End of summer. If nothing changed by then, he'd leave before he wore out his welcome.

  One late spring day, he woke from a nap beside the tide pools to see that one of the smaller rocks was moving, sliding over the others. He glanced around, expecting to see one of the People of the Pocket manipulating the stone (something Minn still hadn't decided to teach him—possibly, that was too secret to reveal to him until he became a permanent resident). But he was alone. And then he felt quite dumb, because the fist-sized rock had a bunch of little spines on it and was leaving a slimy trail behind it. It was a kellevurt.

  He moved in for a better look. He hadn't known they could live outside the water. If he had, when he and Minn had gone to the island of Ko-o, he might have spent a little less time paddling around the furious ocean and a little more time climbing around the sturdy arm of rock embracing the bay. As he watched, the snail finished traversing the rock and slid into one of the pools, where it promptly enveloped a smaller conical snail that had been minding its own business.

  Blays bolted to his feet and ran to the tunnels to see Ro. He was informed that she was out for a swim, so he ran back outside and up the beach until he spotted her floating on her back watching the gulls gliding overhead. Blays stripped off his clothes and dived into the waves, paddling out to her.

  "What are you doing in the water?" he panted.

  "Napping. What does it look like?"

  "But the water is full of sharks and tides and cold," he said. "You'd be much safer up here on dry land. In fact, it might be best if you never left the caves at all."

  She swung up to give him a look. "I'm touched that you're so concerned for my safety. Is this going somewhere?"

  "I saw a kellevurt at the tide pools. It's probably still there, but I'd prefer that no one kill it, because it reminded me of something very important: it's possible to belong to more than one world at once."

  She slicked water from her hair. "Now I see where this is going. Let me cut to the chase: No."

  Blays laughed. The water was cool, but after his run to find her, it felt good. "I'm not asking to come and go as we please. Though I think she's more interested in seeing the world than she lets on. But if you really love this place as much as you claim, you'd do more to watch over it than posting a lookout in the Fingers."

  "Do you think you can belittle me into agreement?"

  "Your long-lost cousins in Narashtovik were almost destroyed because you couldn't be bothered to tell them their own history. Maybe you don't care about that. But if things had gone differently, maybe Cellen winds up in the hands of Moddegan instead. It's not out of the question he might have turned it on Pocket Cove."

  "Cellen is gone," Ro said. "It won't be back for a thousand years."

  "Is that all the longer you want the Cove to last?" Blays flung his hand toward the east. "You've turned your back on it, but the world is still out there. Let us be your eyes. Narashtovik is connected to places in ways you can't imagine—and I'm connected to its leader."

  "It's true. We haven't had scouts for years. But
this is pointless talk. She'll never leave for your city."

  "I won't ask her to. Not for always. Just for half the year. The rest we'll spend here. Where I'll still be in contact with Narashtovik all the while."

  "How will you manage that?"

  He raised an eyebrow. "Well, that one's my secret."

  Ro let her mouth sink below the waves, hiding her smile. "Have you asked her if this is what she wants?"

  "She would just send me straight here anyway."

  She smiled more. "Then here is my answer: go find her, and ask her if this is what she wants."

  Blays couldn't have stopped his grin if he'd wanted to. He turned and swam back to shore. Minn was down at the tide pool with a small crowd; they'd discovered the kellevurt and were discussing whether to harvest it, or leave it be in the hopes it would reproduce.

  He grabbed Minn's hand. She gave him a warning look, but her expression softened. "What is it?"

  "What if we could stay a part of Pocket Cove while not always having to stay in Pocket Cove?"

  Before she could tell him he was being a fool, he explained. It didn't take long. She drew her chin to one side, blinking. "Ro agreed?"

  "I think she got a sense of the size of things beyond your cliff walls, and that it might be best to make sure none of those things want what's in here. And I think that, if you want this, we should tell her so before she changes her mind."

  "Yes," Minn said. "Of course."

  He leaned in and kissed her, and she kissed him back.

  It was a few months before they went anywhere. Blays didn't mind. He had all the time in the world, and was content to spend it with her. But he was glad when Ro finally approached him about putting his proposal into action. He'd never been one for staying in any one place too long. Maybe that was part of why he'd left Narashtovik.

  They had no horses, so he and Minn set off on foot toward Gallador. The plains were hot and abuzz with insects of all kinds. At night, they slept in the open, faces to the stars.

  Across the heights of Gallador Rift, they gazed down on Wending in shock. The whole city appeared to be on fire, shrouded in a haze of smoke. Blays stopped a man on the road. "What's happening? Has the king invaded the city?"