by Cas Peace
Robin stood unobserved for a moment, smiling as he watched the young boy petting his horse. When Tad finally saw him, he jumped off the rail.
“He’s all ready for you, sir. He’s had a light feed and some water, and your gear’s all ready. Shall I tie that pack on for you?” He took the small pack from Robin and secured it deftly to Torka’s saddle rings.
Walking around the stallion, Robin eyed Tad’s work. “Did you do all this by yourself?”
Tad glanced up at him, concern in his eyes. “Have I missed something, sir? Did I do something wrong?”
Robin shook his head. “No, no, lad, quite the opposite. This would pass muster on parade day. How old are you, Tad? I think it’s time we spoke to the General about starting your cadet training.”
The young lad flushed and puffed his chest proudly. “I’m thirteen, sir.”
“Well old enough, then. Did you know that Major Sullyan was only ten when she began training?”
Tad’s eyes grew large. “No, sir, I didn’t.”
Robin smiled. “I have to go back to Andaryon right now, Tad, and I may be gone a few more days. But when I return we’ll put things in motion. How does that sound?”
“Oh, thank you, sir, that would be wonderful,” breathed Tad. “But … sir?”
“What is it?”
The boy flushed again and stared down at his shuffling feet. Hiding a grin, Robin urged, “Speak up.”
Tad raised adoring eyes and managed to whisper, “I want to be in your company, sir. I want to be under your command.”
Robin let the grin out and ruffled the boy’s straw-colored hair. “Well, Tad, work hard at your training and do the very best you can. Remember, I will only take top class cadets. Now, be off with you. I’m sure Goran has duties for you.”
This reminder of his current station caused Tad’s face to fall. Seeing the slump of his shoulders as he walked away, Robin called, “Just remember, lad, we all had to start somewhere. You can learn to work hard and obey orders in any situation. Don’t worry. It won’t be for much longer.”
The boy turned and gave Robin a quick salute. “Yes, sir,” he said as he scampered off. Robin swung onto his gleaming mount and nudged Torka out of the yard, a foolish grin on his face.
+ + + + +
Almost a week passed before Sullyan felt she was as ready as she would ever be to attempt purging herself of the last bit of Rykan’s poison. Most of that time was spent in getting herself as physically fit as possible. She fenced with whoever would spare her the time, and Marik, Anjer, Ephan, Barrin, Aeyron, Robin, and even Pharikian himself were all pressed into her service. That the Hierarch should acquiesce was a surprise, as no one had seen him wield a sword for years. Yet he was fitter than he looked and seemed to thoroughly enjoy the few sessions he shared with Sullyan, the years falling away from him as he remembered his old skills.
When she was not fencing, Sullyan was talking with Deshan or discussing the Citadel’s defenses with Anjer or schooling Drum—who needed regular strenuous exercise to take his mind off the Citadel’s many mares. She did, however, allow herself and Robin some relaxation, and they took to riding over the countryside in the afternoons as a means of forgetting the coming event.
Inevitably, there came a day when she could put it off no longer. With Deshan and Pharikian, she had discussed every possible angle, every development and contingency she could imagine, attempting every experiment they could devise short of actually using the power in the Staff. She had even tried to attune herself to it one afternoon, the experience convincing her to leave well alone until it was unavoidable.
One of her immediate concerns had been cleverly resolved by Pharikian. Their agreement that the artifact should be destroyed once she had recovered from her use of it still stood. Sullyan was confident that she could destroy it—provided she didn’t kill herself while using it—but was concerned about how the Staff might react. It had already caused untold damage in two separate realms, not to mention the men it had killed. The risk to Sullyan’s safety was something she had to accept—risk to her friends, she would not.
It was unthinkable that she should attempt to use the Staff out in the open. The energies it contained were far too potent to risk unleashing them without some form of containment. She also knew that no shield created by an Artesan—not even the Hierarch, Senior Master though he was—would be strong enough to withstand the backlash which might occur if those energies broke loose. The only substance strong enough to resist and contain the potential power surge was that of the Veils, but she could not cross the Veils while carrying the taint of Rykan’s seed.
Understanding her concerns, Pharikian proposed a way to overcome them. Sullyan could enter the Veils surrounded by a closed and shielded Andaryan structure maintained by the Hierarch himself. Robin, in Albia, would be on hand to lend his strength if needed. This would provide several benefits. First, it would be a neutral environment which would cause her no pain. Second, it would protect her from external disturbances. Third and most important as far as Sullyan was concerned, either the Hierarch or Robin would be able to maintain the shield should she lose control of the Staff, containing any fallout within the Veils and allowing it to dissipate harmlessly.
After considering this suggestion, Sullyan approved it with one proviso. Despite her faith in Robin’s powers, she didn’t want him taking the responsibility for providing the Hierarch with back up by himself. If anything went wrong, she knew he would blame himself for the rest of his life, and she couldn’t countenance that. She stipulated that Blaine be asked to support Robin. Two Master-ranked Artesans would surely be strong enough to hold the construct firm in the event of a disaster.
It was settled that they would use this method when Sullyan attempted the purging, and if all went well, they could duplicate the process when the time came to destroy the Staff. Having made this decision, she could find no more reason to delay. Robin would travel back to Albia to inform the General of their plan. Once Blaine had agreed, Pharikian and Deshan would stand at the Andaryan end of the structure, with Robin and Blaine at the Albian end. Sullyan would enter with the Staff and finally purge herself of Rykan’s lethal legacy. This, of course, was the only part of the procedure over which no one had any control. They had covered all the angles. It only remained to be seen whether Sullyan was strong enough or determined enough to succeed.
Her last night in the Citadel before the purging attempt was spent under a somber, uncertain air. In an attempt to distract her from her fears, Pharikian invited her friends to supper in his private chambers. Only Ky-shan and his band were missing, as the pirates had left a few days earlier to take up their new duties on the east coast.
Gathered that night in the comfortable privacy of Pharikian’s rooms were the Hierarch himself, Prince Aeyron, Deshan, Idrimar and an emotional Marik, Anjer and Torien, Ephan and Hollett, the Lady Falina, Baron Gaslek, and Robin. They spent a quiet evening with gentle music and good food. Sullyan had even managed to regain a little of the weight she had lost and no longer looked quite so thin. Her color was good, and she astonished Robin by accepting a glass of the Hierarch’s best red wine, a much sought-after Cheosian vintage, after Deshan told her that a small amount would do her good. The mood was relaxed and easy, and no one mentioned the coming trial.
Once the meal was over and before the atmosphere became strained, the guests made their farewells, filling their voices with encouragement and their eyes with optimism. Pharikian tried to persuade Sullyan to stay on a while, but as soon as she decently could she left him to his family, desiring to be alone with Robin. Once their chamber door had closed and they laid themselves together on the bed, there was an urgency, almost a desperation, to Sullyan’s lovemaking that had never been there before. Alarmed, Robin did his best to calm her, showing her the depth of his love and distracting her as well as he could. But once they were spent her tears came, and he held her close in loving silence.
Her trembling only eased when he finally
helped her slip into sleep.
+ + + + +
In the morning, Robin was pleased to find her serene. Showing no apprehension, she bathed and dressed, then packed her belongings for him to take back to Albia. It felt strange to Robin to be leaving the suite, and as Sullyan took a last lingering look before closing the door he knew she thought the same. This felt wrong somehow, and he hoped it wasn’t an omen. Sullyan’s parents had used these rooms—she had been born, and her mother had died here—and he knew she felt very close to them. It would surely wrench her heart to leave.
He and Sullyan broke their fast with Pharikian and Aeyron, and no one referred to what she was about to do. Relaxed and friendly, the conversation followed trivial lines. Robin was due to return to the Manor at mid-morning, taking Drum with him and reporting to General Blaine to inform him of the final preparations. Once all was in place, they could begin.
Pharikian accompanied them to the Citadel’s south gate to see Robin off. The Captain had Drum on a lead-rein and all their gear in packs. Pharikian had decided that the best place to construct the Andaryan tunnel would be far out on the Plains, well away from any habitation. Robin and Blaine would decide for themselves where the Albian end would be. Despite Pharikian’s assurances that no damage would occur in either realm should Sullyan lose control of the Staff, Robin’s experience in Hyecombe had left him nervous. He intended to make certain there were no buildings or people anywhere near the vicinity of the Albian structure.
Bowing to Pharikian, he kissed Sullyan before vaulting onto Torka. “Go swiftly, Robin,” she said. “I am anxious to get this over with now. I have waited long enough.”
With no further ceremony, Robin constructed a trans-Veil tunnel and rode through it into Albia. Drum’s protesting whinny echoed back through the substrate as his rider faded from view.
General Blaine was waiting at the Manor. Hearing what Robin had to say, he wasted no time. He had already told Bull what was to happen, asking him to alert the infirmary in case their services should be needed. Taran and Cal were also aware, but Blaine had decided against making it common knowledge in case of disaster. Rienne, however, had insisted on attending and suggested that Bull and Taran be present as back-up. Robin agreed, knowing Sullyan wouldn’t mind having her closest friends nearby.
The party rode out, Blaine and Robin choosing their site carefully. They didn’t want to be too far from the Manor should they need help, but there was plenty of open countryside on the far side of the ridge and it was far enough away from the Manor farmlands to be clear of people. When they were satisfied, Robin and Blaine took up their places. Bull, Rienne, and Taran waited some way off with the horses, close enough to be within call but far enough away to feel safe. Robin sensed Bull and Taran linking psyches, sheltering with Rienne beneath a solid shield of Earth.
All was ready. Trying to control the nervousness creeping treacherously into his heart, Robin sent a call to Pharikian. The Hierarch’s reply was instant. Before they could begin, however, there was an unexpected delay. Sullyan had requested a private word with the General. Blaine frowned and glanced at Robin, who shrugged. He had no idea what she wanted.
+ + + + +
Sullyan waited anxiously until the General emerged into the sunlight over the Citadel Plains. Mathias Blaine bowed gravely to Pharikian and shook Deshan’s hand before turning to the woman by their side. He raised his brows.
In a low voice, she said, “I would speak with you a moment, Mathias, if you please.”
Blaine traded a glance with the two Andaryans and followed her as she moved away, stopping just out of earshot. She saw him looking at her hands and realized she was distractedly massaging her left wrist.
“What is it, Brynne?”
She took a deep breath, aware that her uncertainty would be showing in her eyes.
“There is something I wish to ask you, Mathias. Forgive me for placing this burden on you, but there is no one else I can trust.”
He arched his brows, clearly disliking like the sound of this. “Go on.”
She sighed. “I do not know how much Robin has told you about the Staff, but I want you to understand that I am not at all sure I can use it as he hopes.”
Blaine sucked in a breath. “Then why risk it? I understand you could stay here indefinitely.”
She caught his gaze. “That is true. But it is not what I wish. My life is elsewhere, my heart and loyalties also. I would not be happy, and neither would Robin. So I must take my chances. Pharikian thinks I am strong enough, and perhaps he is right. Only time will tell. But I must ask you this favor, Mathias. I want you to promise me something, if you will.”
He folded his arms across his powerful chest. “Name it.”
As unemotionally as possible, she continued. “I can see three possible outcomes to this trial. The first is complete success.” She smiled briefly up at him. “That is what Robin hopes for.”
He did not respond, and she looked away again. “The second is complete failure, and I cannot discount it. It may be impossible to remove the poison. I can only try.”
She stopped.
“And the third?” he asked, knowing this was what she feared.
She ducked her head. “The third would be something between the two.”
Raising her eyes, she took a breath, meeting her fears head-on as usual. “Mathias, I very much fear that I will succeed in cleansing my body at the expense of my mind. When I took Rykan’s life force in the arena, he was left with nothing but a physical shell. He would have lived the rest of his days a mindless husk. Before he lost all conscious thought he begged me to kill him, not to leave him like that. When I struck off his head, I did so for mercy’s sake, not from hate or vengeance.”
Blaine was appalled; she could feel it radiating from him. “And you’re asking me to do the same for you?”
She turned away, and her voice was barely a whisper. “Like Rykan, I cannot bear the thought of a living death. I may succeed today, all may yet be well. Or it might be that some partial damage will occur and I would need a few days to recover. But if the damage was too great … if the coma went on and on … ah, that I could not bear. I am asking you to ensure that my friends—and especially Robin—do not prolong the inevitable if the situation is hopeless. I cannot ask them, Mathias, I cannot burden any of them with this. And so, I must ask you.”
Distressed, he hissed, “You want me to kill you if you destroy your mind? Oh, Sullyan! Even if I agreed, do you think I’d get the chance? Robin would never stand for it—I’d never get near you!”
“Robin need never know!” she said, pleading. “You are a Master Artesan, for all you rarely use your powers. You know how to be discreet. No one need ever know. You know my psyche pattern well, and I would never fight you, you know that.”
His face was stern, his psyche closed to her, and she became distraught.
“Please, Mathias, do not make me beg! I cannot go through with this unless you agree to help me. I would hate to live like that, and deep in his heart, Robin knows it. You are the only one I can trust. Forgive me for asking, but I must have your answer.”
He turned away, but not before she had seen the moisture in his eyes. She watched him taking deep breaths, struggling to regain his composure. Giving him time, she waited silently until he was calm.
When he finally turned round, his eyes were dry and hard. “Very well,” he growled. “I don’t like it, but I’ll do as you wish. If it comes to that, how long do you want me to wait before I … act?”
Relief swamped her. “A few days, Mathias, no more. You will know if it is hopeless.” On impulse, she took his hands, feeling him start. Like Taran, he found such physical contact difficult due to the depth of feelings he didn’t often acknowledge. “I thank you, my friend, for agreeing to this. I know I have put you in an impossible situation, but I had no choice. I am truly grateful.”
He stood looking down into her eyes for a moment before awkwardly embracing her. “Just you make damned su
re I don’t have to do it!” he said. She gave a wan smile as he turned away, and she watched him cross the Veils, Robin’s tunnel compressing behind him. As he emerged next to Robin, she saw him ignore the Captain’s quizzical look.
When the two Albian men were ready, Robin nodded to Pharikian. Sullyan sensed the Hierarch reaching down into his psyche, gathering the fabric of the Veils and weaving it strongly. Soon, she could see where the two structures—Robin’s in Albia and Pharikian’s there in Andaryon—would meet and mesh. Like filaments of pearly mist, the two substrate structures sought each other, coming together and linking seamlessly until the construction was complete. Right in the middle, separate from the main tunnel, was an area of neutral ground just large enough to contain one person.
Sullyan felt weak but composed, and she gave Robin a small smile. Then she turned to Pharikian and he embraced her, bowing his face to her hair. But she could not risk her emotions spilling over, and so she broke away, taking deep breaths to steady herself. Then, with a nod to Deshan, she walked into the tunnel’s grey shimmer, the Master Physician following behind. She was relieved to feel no pain. Pharikian’s theory was correct. Reaching the area of neutrality, she stopped, instinctively knowing that if she took one more step, it would be too far. She turned to Deshan, who had halted beside her.
Placing his hand on her shoulder, he smiled encouragingly. “Just remember what I told you, Brynne. Go slowly and steadily. Take all the time you need. Stop and rest if you tire. Clear your mind of all thoughts and concentrate fully on directing your powers through the Staff. You don’t need me to guide you this time. You will know when it is done.
“I will leave you now, but I will be within call should you need me. We all will.” He placed a light kiss on her cheek. “We wish you good fortune.”
Unable to speak, she merely nodded her thanks. Looking around she saw Robin and Blaine, Rienne, Taran, Bull, and Pharikian. Each one willing her to succeed. Drawing another deep breath, she slowly folded herself down upon the ground. Deshan placed the Staff before her and, with a final pat on her shoulder, walked back to the Hierarch.