by Cas Peace
Anjer laughed. “You didn’t think his Majesty would make you forego that pleasure, did you?”
She smiled with relief. “How long do we have, my Lord?”
“Long enough. A page will come for you.”
Leaving Ky-shan and the others to settle into their suite, Sullyan and Robin made their way to their own rooms. Sullyan stripped off her soiled clothing and made straight for the bathing pool. She was accustomed to doing without when on campaign, but it only heightened her appreciation of clean hot water. A chance to scrub off the accumulated grime was most welcome.
Slowly divesting himself of his own clothes, Robin regarded her critically. “You’ve lost weight again.”
She didn’t reply, but she did hold out her arms to him as he joined her in the pool.
Two hours later, scrubbed and refreshed, Sullyan, Robin, and their escort followed a page through the palace corridors. Each person they passed, whether servant or noble, bowed courteously in Sullyan’s direction. She acknowledged them all with a nod of her head. As they approached the private areas of the palace, Sullyan was surprised to see a familiar figure walking toward her. The Princess Idrimar halted, obviously intent on speaking, and Sullyan accorded her a deep curtsey. The men following her bowed.
The Princess stood with her hands tightly clenched. Her face was pinched, her pale grey eyes red-rimmed. They flicked uncertainly over the faces before her.
Sullyan regarded her with some concern. “Can I help you, Highness?”
Idrimar’s air of anxiety deepened and she dropped her gaze. “Please forgive me, Major, I know you’ve only just returned from battle. You must be on your way to see my father, and I don’t want to hold you up. It’s just ….”
“Please, Highness, ask. I will tell you anything you want to know.”
“I wanted to ask you … do you have any news of Count Marik?”
It took all Sullyan’s will not to smile, and she sincerely hoped the others were being as circumspect. The Princess was trying hard to hide her true feelings, but her heart could not have been plainer had she held it in her hands.
“Highness, let me assure you that the Count is quite well. He leads his men on the right flank, under General Kryp. He has acquitted himself admirably so far, and I believe your father will be pleased with his contribution to this conflict.”
Idrimar’s cheeks took on a faint pink bloom. A shy smile curved her lips and she clasped one of Sullyan’s hands. “Major, I thank you. You have eased my mind. I’ll let you go now. We mustn’t keep my father waiting.”
The older woman departed, and Sullyan glanced meaningfully at Robin. “It seems the Count really has made an impression. Who would have thought it?”
Robin grinned. “Do you think anything will come of it?”
“Who knows? But the Princess is smitten, that much is clear.”
The page led them to the door of the Hierarch’s small audience chamber. Before they entered, Sullyan spent a few moments reassuring Ki-en and Jay’el about the forthcoming interview with their monarch. None of the pirates had met him, nor thought they ever might, and were understandably nervous. The older men hid it well, but the younger two could not. Once they had entered and lined up facing the oval table, the fanfare announcing the Hierarch’s arrival made both boys jump.
Pharikian walked in, accompanied by guards and pages. He looked older, more careworn, and Sullyan frowned as she studied his face. He made his way to the table and halted beside the throne. When his eyes met hers he smiled, and his face shed years. Shyly, she returned the gesture.
Once the guards and pages had stepped back, Sullyan and her escort kneeled to honor the monarch, she and Robin making the obeisance due to a Senior Master. Pharikian beckoned them to rise and come forward. When Sullyan approached he enveloped her in a loving hug, and she heard Jay’el gasp in astonishment.
Releasing her at last, Pharikian stood back, his gaze scrutinizing her thoroughly.
“You’re thinner, Brynne.”
She answered with a smile. “If you had been in the field for weeks, eating trail rations and fighting Rykan’s troops, Majesty, you would be thinner too.” Her familiar tone drew startled glances from Ky-shan and his men. “But you do look tired.”
Pharikian gave a small shrug. “We are nearing the end, Brynne.”
Rejecting the gilded throne, he drew them to a collection of easy chairs at the side of the chamber. Before permitting them to sit, he had her conduct the introductions and commended Ky-shan especially for his services to the Crown. He then eyed Jay’el, causing the young man to fidget nervously.
“I have heard of your little foolishness, boy. I hope you have learned your lesson and decided to behave like a man.”
Jay’el swallowed. “Y-yes, Majesty.”
Pharikian invited them all to sit. He and Sullyan spent some time discussing the past weeks, as she was keen to know how the rest of his troops had fared against Rykan. The monarch told her what he knew, but what interested her most was that no one had encountered the Duke in person.
Pharikian waved a dismissive hand. “I’m not surprised, Brynne. He’ll be keeping himself safe somewhere far to the rear with his personal guard around him. He won’t even risk his generals in the real fighting. If you were hoping he would commit himself, you’ll be disappointed.”
“Then we must devise a plan to make him do so, Majesty. With your permission, I have a few ideas that I would be happy to put to the Lord General.”
He smiled. “I’m sure Anjer would appreciate any advice you care to give.”
Pharikian then turned to Ky-shan and asked the pirate about his band. His curiosity satisfied, Pharikian dismissed them, but once Ky-shan and his men had left, he called Sullyan back. Robin remained by the door at a gesture of the Major’s hand.
The monarch drew her to him. “How are you, Brynne?”
Holding his yellow gaze, she replied honestly. “I will be better for a rest, Timar.”
He frowned. “I’d heard you were wounded rescuing that foolish boy.”
She gave him a small smile. “It was a flesh wound and has healed well. Robin’s was worse, but he is also fit now. Never fear, Timar, it will not affect my ability to confront Rykan.”
Pharikian was stung. “That isn’t why I asked!” His tone was so sharp that Robin glanced over. Sullyan touched Pharikian’s arm in tacit apology and he accepted with a shake of his head. “How are you apart from that?”
She knew what he really wanted. Out in the field, she had almost been able to forget the poison in her system. Deshan, the Master Physician, had done a good job in re-sealing it and slowing its advance. The potion he had given her had numbed the pain and allowed her natural vitality to reassert itself. Yet she couldn’t fool herself into thinking she was well. Deshan had bought her a little more time, that was all.
Not trusting herself to speak, she opened her psyche to Pharikian’s senses and invited him to see for himself.
The concern that flooded his features told her what she had guessed but hadn’t wanted to acknowledge. He sighed sadly.
“We need another meeting with Deshan, child. I’ll send for you later. Go and get some rest, if you can. If there are any developments outside, I’ll see that you hear of them.”
Deshan and the Hierarch came to her rooms a couple of hours later. Sullyan had had some sleep and was feeling stronger. She had stretched out on the couch by the fire, leaving Robin still slumbering in the sleeping room. He woke at the page’s tap on the door and came yawning into the living area as the Major admitted the two men.
The Master Healer took one look at Sullyan and frowned.
“Timar, she really shouldn’t have been allowed to spend herself in the field like that. It wasn’t a sensible thing to do.”
Pharikian spread his hands. “We had no choice, Deshan. There was no other way to convince the generals to accept her.”
Grumbling about the mental capacity of generals, Deshan gestured for Sullyan to lie on
the couch. He sat beside her, one hand on her brow, the other holding her left hand. She allowed him access to her psyche so he could monitor her condition. When he saw how the poison had spread, the worry lines around his eyes deepened. Resignedly, he glanced up at the Hierarch.
“We can only do this once more, Timar. The poison has gone very deep, and if we delve too deeply to seal it off, we risk sealing her powers away too.”
Sullyan gave a gasp. She knew that Pharikian hadn’t told Deshan the entirety of her plans for Rykan. Indeed, she hadn’t told the Hierarch everything. Much depended on the circumstances of the meeting, but she knew she would need every vestige of her powers if she was to defeat the Duke. Physical strength was only one part of the equation.
Pharikian understood her fear. He glanced from her worried eyes to those of his physician. “We will do as much as we can without impairing your energies, Brynne.”
Robin approached, not wanting to be left out. “Can I help?”
Sullyan held out her hand to him and he came to the other side of the couch. She closed her eyes, opening her psyche fully to the three men around her. She sensed both Robin and the Hierarch giving control of their powers to Deshan, who used them, together with Sullyan’s own fathomless, amber energy, to capture and encapsulate the invasive, black well of poison in her soul.
She could tell how repulsed Robin was by the texture and feel of the poison; he was staggered by how vast it had grown. So was she, although she fought not to show it. It seemed that every fiber, every corner, of her being was infected with it. Only one area was free, one tiny, pulsing, crystal clear star right at the core of her soul. Robin struggled not to show his despair, but they were each so completely interlinked that their senses and emotions could not be hidden. Sullyan couldn’t bear to see him so crushed and sent out her love to surround his heart. Yet she couldn’t soothe away his sense of failure, and when the work was done and the three men released their meld, Robin’s face was damp with tears of shame.
Exhausted by the expenditure of power, Sullyan lacked the strength even to open her eyes. She sensed Robin moving away from the couch, his feet unsteady, and knew when Pharikian put an arm around his shoulders. She heard Deshan leave the room. Robin was trembling, giving way to his fear of losing his love. Sullyan yearned to comfort him, but her body wouldn’t obey her. She was so thankful when she heard the Hierarch take Robin into a close embrace. Leaving Pharikian to help her lover work some of the pain out of his system, she slipped into a deep, restorative sleep.
+ + + + +
In his habitual curt manner, Lord General Anjer summarized the action so far.
“Our various companies in the field, under the direction of Generals Ephan and Kryp, continue to harry the flanks of Lord Rykan’s troops. Forcing small battles where they can, they draw his men ever nearer the Citadel. Ephan controls the movements of the left flank while Kryp commands the right. Between them, they are herding Rykan’s men into closer and closer formation, denying them the chance to slip around behind our forces and cut our supply lines.
“His Majesty’s extra troops have now arrived in full, and while we’re holding the majority of these in reserve so they’ll be fresh for the final confrontation, some have been deployed to drive the enemy from behind to ensure Rykan doesn’t fall back. Our tactics seem to be working, as neither Kryp nor Ephan has reported signs of retreat. It appears he’s committed to following his challenge through. He always was an arrogant man, he’d never risk losing face with his commanders or subject lords by backing down.”
Sullyan nodded and resumed her pacing. She, Anjer, and the Hierarch, accompanied by Robin, Almid, and Kester, had climbed to the roof of the Palace Tower where they had a panoramic view of the Plains to the east, the forests to the west, and even the small knoll where Sullyan, Robin, and Marik had had their first view of the Citadel. On emerging from the Tower doors, Sullyan’s gaze had rested briefly on that insignificant hill, recalling their journey. The weak winter sun glinted off the frost coating the stone battlements.
She stood looking eastward, as if she could see the two opposing forces already drawn up in their battle lines.
“Still no one has seen the Duke himself?”
Anjer hugged his heavy black cloak tighter around him against the bitterly icy wind, his black eyes roving the countryside. “No. Most of Rykan’s commanders have been sighted, driving their units from behind as usual, but so far no glimpses of either his generals or the great man himself. I shouldn’t have thought you so eager to see him again anyway, Brynne.”
They were on less formal terms now, at least when none of the other ranking officers were about, and Anjer had taken to using her given name. Despite this, Sullyan reacted forcefully to his casual statement, the barely controlled power blazing from her eyes causing him to step back in alarm.
“I should be very pleased never to set eyes on him again, Anjer! But it seems I have to be intimate with him one more time, whether I will it or no.”
Anjer traded a worried look with the Hierarch and Robin, both of whom gazed back helplessly. Chastened, the General was about to apologize, but Sullyan got there first.
“Forgive me, my Lord, you did not deserve that. I ask your pardon.”
He smiled wryly. “There’s nothing to forgive, Brynne. It was a stupid thing to say.”
She resumed her pacing, the outburst forgotten as her mind returned to their problem. “How soon before the main body of Rykan’s troops reaches the Plains?”
Anjer glanced at the Hierarch, who nodded. “About three days, if they keep up their present rate of advance.”
She turned to face him. “Could we hold them back now, if we chose?”
“Possibly.” He frowned. “But why would we want to?”
Sullyan rested her hands on the parapet, heedless of the frost coating the stone, and gazed out over the Plains. “We have to know for sure where Rykan is.” Her voice was a murmur, as if speaking to herself. “Force him to halt, make him regroup and rethink. Yes. Send units to attack the rear of his columns, see if they can flush him out. If so, well enough.”
In the silence Pharikian shifted, as if reluctant to disturb her train of thought. “And if not?”
She didn’t immediately respond. The watery sunlight shone into her eyes, sudden moisture blurring her view of the Plains.
“If not ....” She paused and drew a shaky breath. “If not, then there is only one course of action left.”
The Hierarch moved to stand before her. Taking her shoulders in both hands, he looked sternly into her misted eyes.
“No, Brynne! I won’t risk you again.”
Her breath came out as a sigh. “Ah, no, Timar, that was not my thought. I am not so eager to confront the Duke that I wish to ride out and find him myself.” She gave Anjer a small grin.
He stared back at her. “What then, Brynne? What more could we do to entice Rykan out?”
She glanced guiltily across at Robin, seeing her Captain’s sudden understanding. He knew what she meant and why she was so reluctant to suggest it. He couldn’t help her, though, and gazed sympathetically back.
The Hierarch’s grip on her shoulders tightened. “Well?”
She turned her eyes once more to the frozen Plains. Softly, she said, “There is someone else whom Rykan would be keen to recapture. Someone who has the Duke’s price on his head for rescuing me. Someone for whom he may well be tempted out of concealment. But it would be asking much of one who has already risked himself for me and who even now strives to recover what he has lost.”
She fell silent, disliking herself intensely for the suggestion. It was too late now, though. Anjer and Pharikian understood.
Anjer’s tone was kind. “It may yet prove unnecessary, Brynne. But under the circumstances, I think it would be wise to prepare.” Glancing around for a member of the Velletian Guard, who were never far from his presence, he snapped, “Send for Commander Vanyr. We need a runner to go into the field and recall Count Marik.”
+ + + + +
Evening was drawing on. Taran sat watching a pan of water heating over the campfire. Cal and Rienne had nearly finished feeding the horses, and Bull, who had dug the latrine, was already sitting on the other side of the fire, wrapped in his thick, warm cloak. He stared deeply into the flames, his eyes unfocused as he communed with Robin.
They were nearly there, thought Taran. According to Bull, they were now less than a day’s ride away from their destination, a small hill overlooking the Citadel Plains. From there, provided they were careful, they should be able to watch the final battle.
Bull had made them skirt several villages on this final stage of their journey. They had kept up a strict watch in rotation for any signs of either Rykan’s or the Hierarch’s men, but the woods were deserted. Bull had said that in such troubled times peasants and villagers kept as near to their homes as possible, so it hadn’t been hard to avoid detection. The big man was not as fearful for their safety as he was for secrecy; it wouldn’t do for rumors of a small group of Albians heading toward the Citadel to reach enemy ears. Despite the fact that it was winter and no one was working in the fields, Taran had seen some laborers out and about. Bull told him this meant the area hadn’t been disturbed by fighting and so they should be safe.
Given the reason for their journey, thought Taran as he poured steaming water onto the dried fellan seeds, they were all in surprisingly good spirits, even Rienne. Just being on the move had given her the sense of purpose she had lacked since leaving Sullyan. And Bull’s regular but short contacts with Robin were helping them feel included in what was happening. They now knew that the final day of battle, when the future of both realms would be decided, was drawing near.
Whether it was the fellan’s rich aroma or the natural ending of his conversation with Robin, Taran didn’t know, but Bull suddenly shifted, stretching his back and rubbing his hands. He smiled as Taran handed him a mug of fresh brew.
“What news, Bull?”
The big man glanced up as Cal and Rienne approached the fire. “Come and warm yourselves,” he said, “while I tell you the latest piece of gossip.”