Artesans of Albia

by Cas Peace

  “To do what?”

  Rienne already knew the answer. In the light of what she had heard, there could only be one thing driving Sullyan now. The Major’s harsh words confirmed it.

  “Prevent Rykan from taking the throne. Destroy him. Preferably by my own hand.”

  + + + + +

  Sullyan watched in silence as Rienne left the barn. The healer walked with slumped shoulders, a clear sign of the pain she felt. Sullyan had asked her to send Robin out to the barn, and as she waited she took some deep breaths, trying to find the strength and courage she knew she would need. Her heart was pounding, and one phrase kept repeating in her mind.

  Robin, I have something to tell you ….

  Too soon, she heard his footsteps. He walked briskly into the barn, her combat jacket slung over his arm. There was a look of innocent enquiry on his handsome face and her heart lurched painfully. She forced herself to approach him, and he held her jacket open. Shrugging into it for warmth, she failed to suppress a shiver.

  “Walk with me, Robin,” she said, suddenly desperate for sunlight on her face. He turned and paced beside her, his easy acceptance making her feel like a traitor. They moved away from the barn, but the damp earth smell and the faint warmth of the sun were too much for Sullyan. It was all too normal, when nothing in her life would ever be normal again.

  She stopped and turned to Robin. When she took hold of his hands, he frowned, startled by the intimacy. She began speaking, her voice as level as she could make it, her eyes never leaving her lover’s face. Not even when her words made him try to wrench away.

  “Robin, I ….” The words that had echoed in her head refused to come, and she had to clear her throat. “There’s something I need you to understand, and I want you to listen and not interrupt. I cannot come back with you to Albia. What Rykan did to me means that my life there has ended. His actions left a poison within me, and that poison will kill me if I try to cross the Veils.”

  His hands jerked within hers but she gripped them all the tighter, desperate now to say what must be said.

  “There is nothing you can do to help me. I must stay here and live out what time I have left. But you must return to Albia—I will not see you suffer because of me.”

  “I will never leave you—”

  Desolate anger surged within her. “You have to! I could not bear seeing you sicken. You must understand, Robin, it is over! Our time together is over.”

  Robin’s face went grey and tears pricked Sullyan’s eyes. Grief had made her harsh, but he did not deserve such betrayal. Not from her. She could barely meet his stricken gaze, but forced herself to witness the final moment, the moment Robin was forced to face the ruin of his every hope and dream. His body slumped and she thought he might fall, but her grip on his hands kept him upright. Her heart nearly broke when she realized he would not lean totally on her. Even in his extreme pain, he was aware of her weakness.

  He straightened abruptly. Without a word, he pulled his hands away, his strength too great for her to resist. She could sense the pool of tears welling within him, yet he was too numb, too stunned, to shed them.

  Helpless, she could only stand and watch as Robin moved away. She didn’t call to him. She knew he needed solitude to come to terms with what he had heard. Gentle as she had been, there was no easy way to hear that the love of your life, your one true soul mate, was leaving before your lives together had even begun. She could almost taste his desolation as she walked back to the barn. Collapsing onto a bale of hay, she buried her face in her hands.

  She didn’t know how long it was—only a few minutes, she thought—before she heard light footsteps approaching. Lifting her face, she met Robin’s red-rimmed eyes. She began to rise, but he made a negative gesture and stepped back. Hurt, she gazed at him. He wouldn’t meet her eyes and stared instead toward the horizon, where dark rain clouds were massing again. In silence, she waited for him to speak.

  “Will you answer me a simple question? Will you give me a straight and honest answer?”

  She nodded. “If I can.”

  His voice was hoarse and she was taken aback by his phrasing, but the need in his question was clear.

  Wind from the approaching rain clouds stirred the Captain’s short, dark hair. He paused a moment more, considering his words. Sullyan waited with her hands in her lap and her eyes on his pinched, white face.

  Muscles jumped along his jawline. He took a deep breath and looked her full in the eyes. She began to tremble. This, she thought, would be the most important question he had ever asked in his entire life.

  “Sullyan, do you love me?”

  Her indrawn breath was almost a sob. She stood and approached him. Placing her hand on his arm, preparing to bare her soul more deeply than she had ever done before, she said, “How could you doubt me, Robin? Yes, I love you. With all my heart and soul.”

  She meant for him to sense the depth of her feelings. This was no time to hold back. Touching the edges of his psyche with her powers, she heard the breath catch in his throat. As he stared deeply into her eyes, captured by what she revealed, she knew he finally understood how deeply she had always loved him. How hard it had been for her to maintain her professional position and carry out her duties while containing such powerful emotions. Now he understood why she had contained them.

  Contrition flooded his heart, and she sensed his regret for all the hurt he had given her, the trouble he had caused her, the adolescent way he had sometimes behaved while trying to impress her. She forgave him, and felt his heart lift. He was, he suddenly realized, the only one who could help her now. No one else was in a position to do so.

  Despite this new knowledge, Robin had one last question. He gripped her hands tightly while pent-up breath sighed out of his lungs.

  “Sullyan, are you absolutely sure there’s no way out of this? No one who might know of a solution, a cure?”

  She dropped her gaze, unwilling to show him her pain. Looking past him into the morning sky, she said, “I wonder if you know, really know, what my life means to me? The work I do, the Manor, the position I hold? They have been everything I have ever wanted. They feel right … necessary. I belong there. It is what I was born for.

  “I have been in many battles, as you know. Often, I have been in peril of my life. On two occasions, only the skill and care of those who loved me saved me from death. You know me, Robin. You know I am not fey. I do not seek death, in battle or otherwise. So I tell you now, and hear me well. If there was any way in all the Five Realms to avert what is to happen, I would take it gladly.”

  She turned her full gaze on him. The tears welling once more in his dark blue eyes told her that he had accepted what was to come.

  She feared he might take her in his arms, and she knew she could not cope with that right now. Her small store of strength was fading. She sincerely hoped Rienne had told the others, she could not bear to go through it all again. Bulldog had guessed, she was fairly sure, she had seen it in the big man’s eyes. She would need his solid, dependable strength very soon, she thought, as would Robin in the weeks to come.

  “What will you do now?”

  His question was a welcome distraction. Robin was trying to be practical and that was good. It was something she could deal with.

  “Under normal circumstances, I would say we had no business interfering in the political struggles of another realm. But I am in a unique position to know exactly what Rykan intends, and I know that if he gains the Andaryan throne, Albia will also be in jeopardy. Rykan will not honor the Pact. So, I will go to Caer Vellet, Robin, to the Hierarch’s Citadel, and I will offer my sword and services in defense of his crown for as long as my strength lasts. I have valuable information concerning Rykan’s battle plans, and I am probably the only person in a position to thwart him. Especially as he does not have the extra power he planned on.”

  She smiled, but the Captain looked troubled.

  “I have to try, Robin. I have nothing to lose. I also owe a
debt to Marik, and if I can persuade the Hierarch to accept him, not only will I rob Rykan of some of his forces, but maybe I can restore Marik’s pride and manor as well.”

  The troubled look didn’t leave Robin’s face, and Sullyan knew he still harbored doubts about Marik. She had neither the time nor the energy to deal with his mistrust. A few cold spots of rain landed on her face and she glanced up at the darkening sky. Rain-bearing clouds were running in, and the wind was strengthening.

  “We have much to arrange today, Robin, and I fear I will need your power again very soon. I am still too weak to manage on my own just yet. We should go in to the others, we have much to discuss.”

  Chapter Five

  Sullyan re-entered the hut with Robin beside her. Every face turned her way, and she could tell from their expressions that they knew. Rienne must have told them. A cold sickness churned deep in her stomach, and she knew she couldn’t bear their horror and sympathy. She was hanging on to her sanity by a thread as it was. Any show of emotion—no matter how well intended—might just sever it.

  Unable to run from her friends, although she wished with all her heart she could do so, she did the only other thing she could think of. Placing her hands firmly on her hips, feet slightly apart, she faced them squarely. In a startlingly accurate imitation of Bull’s deep bass rumble, she gave them his favorite phrase.

  “For the gods’ sake, let us not have the wake before the bloody funeral!”

  A strangled laugh—or maybe a sob—from Bull broke the stillness. Sullyan smiled round at them, trying to convey her gratitude without inviting pity. Then, crossing to the bed and collapsing gently onto it, she said, “I hope you have some fellan brewing, Bulldog. I could really use some just now.”

  Shaking his head, Bull poured the requested drink. Her hands were trembling as she accepted it and he frowned. She smiled up at him.

  “I will rest soon, Bull, but there are things we need to discuss right now.”

  Marik entered the hut as she outlined her plan. When she mentioned returning to the mansion to enable Marik to collect what he would need in order to accompany her to the Hierarch’s Citadel, the Count protested.

  “There’s no point in me coming with you, Sullyan. I appreciate what you’re trying to do, but they’ll shoot me on sight. Even if they don’t, my presence won’t help your cause. I’m a traitor, and you’ll be accused along with me.”

  “I will not leave you behind, my friend. You are no traitor, and my testimony will convince the Hierarch of your loyalty.”

  Marik shook his head. “Why should he listen to you? I’ve been Rykan’s subject since I took my father’s lands. The word of an Albian—and a woman at that—isn’t going to carry any weight in Caer Vellet.”

  “Maybe not, but the word of a Master-elite Artesan surely will.”

  Marik fell silent, but his troubled eyes clearly betrayed his misgivings. Sullyan sighed. Her strength was fast disappearing.

  “Do you not see?” she said, willing him to understand. “Placing yourself under my protection and throwing yourself on the Hierarch’s mercy is your only sane course of action. The alternatives are exile and death, neither of which I will countenance.”

  Marik threw up his hands. “Oh, very well. At least the Hierarch isn’t known for torturing traitors. Death at his hands should be quick.”

  His acceptance relieved her, despite her annoyance at his attitude. Rienne was watching her with concern, and when she suggested another healing session, Sullyan didn’t refuse. She knew how close she was to collapse. When it was over, Rienne pressed some food on her and then insisted she sleep for an hour or so. Once again, Sullyan obeyed, retreating to the bed by the fire.

  + + + + +

  Sullyan quickly fell asleep and Rienne tried to calm her fears for the Major’s health. She knew how deeply Marik’s resistance had drained her, and the younger woman’s prediction regarding the seal on Rykan’s poison was weighing on Rienne’s mind. So it was a welcome distraction when Robin drew her, along with the others, to the far end of the hut. Bull served everyone fellan, and while they sat at the small table savoring the brew, the Captain asked Marik for an account of Sullyan’s imprisonment.

  Clearly, the Count wasn’t happy, and Rienne suspected he didn’t trust Robin’s earlier forced apology. If the young Captain still held Marik responsible for Sullyan’s capture, then telling the tale could easily result in another confrontation. Rienne felt sure the Count would refuse. Then Bull added his weight to Robin’s request.

  “Count, we need to know. I understand it won’t be easy to hear or to tell, so I’ll ask you to be brief. Just tell us what you can.”

  The Count looked down at his hands, anywhere but at the taut faces around him. “Brief?” He took a steadying breath. “Rykan came back after you left. He never intended to return to Kymer. He simply went far enough to ensure the council session was well underway. I didn’t know it then, but he’d brought his own servants with him, and they must have put something in the food we ate. The first I knew was when I woke in one of Rykan’s carriages, along with three other members of my court. We were taken to Rykan’s palace and confined to our rooms. No one would tell us what was going on, and the palace was in uproar. From what we heard through the door, it was clear that Rykan was in a frighteningly violent rage. His people seemed in mortal fear of their lives, and with good reason as it turned out, because I heard later that he actually killed some of them. It wasn’t until the terror died down that I discovered he had also abducted Sullyan.

  “He held a feast, which we were all required to attend. There was no sign of his earlier rage. When Sullyan was brought into the room, he fawned over her as if she was an honored guest rather than a prisoner in spellsilver. I learned then that his ‘invasion’ of Albia was nothing more than a ruse to get Sullyan sent to my manor as an envoy from your king.

  “The spellsilver had affected Sullyan badly, and she hardly had the strength to speak. Rykan kept trying to wheedle his way round her, trying to get her to agree to some kind of alliance between them. She refused, but the strain was evident. I managed to catch her eye, to let her know I would help where I could, but I don’t know if she understood.”

  Rienne glanced over at the sleeping form on the bed, wondering where Sullyan’s reserves of strength came from. Marik’s low voice continued and she turned her attention back to his narrative.

  “I next saw her about three days later. I think Rykan was beginning to realize just how strong she was, even without her Artesan powers. He has a well-deserved reputation as a brutal womanizer, and I doubt he’s ever dealt with a female as stubborn as her. He would never have tolerated such resistance from an Andaryan woman. Any female who dared to show such spirit would be killed.”

  Robin gave a skeptical grunt and Marik glared at him. “Believe me, he’s done it before! But it was different with Sullyan. He coveted her powers, and as you know, no Artesan can take another’s powers by force. He had to ‘persuade’ her to give them up, torment her and wear her down until she gave in. He had to endure her obstinacy, and I can only imagine how it infuriated him.”

  He dropped his eyes, his face pale. “Then he tried another tactic. He told her, in front of us all, that if she continued to refuse him, he would treat her the same way he was treating her horse. He showed her a whip which still bore traces of blood and black hairs. I think that was the first time she reacted to anything he said to her. She didn’t know he was abusing her horse. He saw her anger and laughed in her face. Then he ordered his guards to strip her naked, and he used that horsewhip on her until she fell to her knees.”

  Robin made a strangled sound and Rienne covered her face. She felt sick. Some of those lashes had cut to the bone.

  Marik’s voice wavered. “She hardly made a sound except right at the end. I think that’s what Rykan was waiting for, to hear her acknowledge him. She was virtually unconscious by the time he stopped and ordered his guards to throw her in the cells. That’s when I made
my first mistake.”

  He stopped and they all stared at him, horror in their eyes. Outside, rain was drumming on the roof but Rienne barely noticed.

  Marik shook his head. “I didn’t realize I had risen to my feet. What did I think I was going to do? Surrounded by the Duke’s men, there was nothing I could do, even if I was armed, which of course I wasn’t. All I did was draw attention to the fact that I didn’t agree with what Rykan was doing. I remember the look he gave me when he realized I might have feelings for her. I wish now—” He broke off and heaved a huge sigh.

  “I managed to get into her cell. I overheard one of the jailors saying it was a shame the way Rykan had used her, and I played on his feelings. She was barely conscious when I went in, but I managed to get her to drink some water. I cleaned her wounds as best I could and covered her with straw. Before I left, she made me promise to try to release her horse. It wasn’t easy, but, as you know, I eventually succeeded. Rykan’s horse master received a flogging, but he deserved it for the way the poor brute had been treated.”

  Marik paused to take a sip of cold fellan. Bull rose and fetched more. Rienne curled her hands gratefully around the cup, the warm liquid helping to dispel the chill brought on by listening to the Count’s dreadful tale. She didn’t really want to hear any more, but they were locked into it now. She sat helpless, hardly able to imagine the horrors Sullyan had suffered.

  Marik glanced plaintively at Bull. “I don’t suppose you have anything to fortify this fellan with?”

  Bull fetched his bottle of firewater and passed it round. They all took some of the burning liquid, even Rienne. After a long swallow, Marik went on.

  “The day after I released the horse, Rykan shut himself away with his generals. I don’t know if his next move was his own idea, or theirs. He might have intended it all along, or maybe he was just indulging his brutal nature. That night, after the evening meal, he was in a better mood. I was very frightened because I thought he must finally have defeated her. But I was wrong.”