Artesans of Albia

by Cas Peace

  Water’s music gives birth to the soul

  Its essence surrounds us, feeds all that we are

  The hard rain, wild sea, the softness of snow

  Runs deep within us as love itself flows

  Something buried within the song began calling to Rienne, beckoning her, urging her gently on. She floated, serene, untroubled by thoughts of danger or fear, enveloped by her own empathic psyche. Nothing touched her. Never had she known such feelings of security and belonging. Was this what Sullyan felt whenever she used her powers? If so, then Rienne could well understand what had driven Taran to persevere for so many frustrating years. Such glorious sensations were surely worth all the failures and perils he had endured.

  Fire of the sun pours warmth through the leaves

  Life’s cradle of heat gives us all that we are

  Light for our eyes and the life that we see

  Kindling true friendship, your love kindles me

  Friendship and love. Rienne had been fortunate enough to experience both in her life, friendship and love deeper and more meaningful than many ever found. Cal was her life mate—no matter that they were not yet wed—and she had bonded closer with Sullyan than she could ever have imagined. She simply could not conceive of a life without the younger woman, and this thought pierced the aura of calm around her, sending a sudden pang like fire shooting through her heart. Overwhelming sorrow flooded her, drowning her. She flailed, and Deshan held her, using his own powers to support her as desperation swept through her.

  + + + + +

  Standing next to his horse, Robin heard General Blaine murmuring to the King. Both men left the platform, returning to their seats as the assembled companies performed a mass salute. Blaine then conferred briefly with both Elias and Pharikian, and Robin saw the tall Andaryan ruler nod. He stood and accompanied Blaine toward the platform. Sergeant-Major Harker gestured to the trumpeters, who blew another stirring fanfare. In his best parade ground voice, he boomed that the Hierarch of Andaryon, Senior Master Artesan, would now preside over matters concerning those of his craft.

  Breathing heavily, Robin tried to compose himself. He had been dreading this moment, and his convictions concerning his promotion had not eased him. He knew he wouldn’t be able to concentrate. He didn’t want this, he wanted to be elsewhere. He wanted to be searching for Sullyan. But he was trapped. In need of support, he glanced about for Bull, but the big man seemed to have disappeared. Instead, all he saw was the murderous anger in Parren’s accusing eyes. He failed to suppress a shudder.

  Cal and Taran were called forward to be officially confirmed in their status by the most senior member of their craft. Despite knowing it was coming, they were highly nervous, but Pharikian was merciful, demanding no outward show of their prowess. Placing a hand on each of their heads in turn, he merely confirmed and announced their status—Taran as Adept, and Cal as Apprentice-elite. Giving him the obeisance due a Senior Master, they quickly returned to their places.

  The moment Robin was dreading had arrived. Leaving Torka once more in Tad’s care, he moved unsteadily to stand before the Hierarch. Pharikian, seeing his pale and stricken face, looked on him with sympathy.

  “Major Tamsen,” he said, and Robin started at the unfamiliar rank. “I would not normally condone putting you through such an ordeal at a time like this, but General Blaine has assured me that it was Brynne Sullyan’s wish that I raise your status. You have earned it, son. It is your right.

  “However, as you are now entering the final stages of Mastery, I cannot simply confirm you as I did Adept Elijah and Apprentice-elite Tyler. The ancient codes of our craft require you to prove your ability before us all. I would spare you this if I could, but it is not possible. Do you understand?”

  “I understand, Majesty, but I most respectfully beg to decline the test. My mind is not ready.”

  Such a breach of protocol widened Pharikian’s eyes. “I’m afraid it’s too late for that. You cannot refuse the test.”

  Robin felt sick. Sensing his distress, Pharikian leaned forward, his heart in his eyes. “You are capable, young man, believe me. Just complete the test Brynne set you and it will be over. You owe her this. You cannot let her down!”

  Robin had no choice. Bowing his head, he tried to hide the resentment in his eyes. He knew he didn’t have the physical strength for this, and the last thing he wanted was the humiliation of failing in front of everyone. He knew without looking that Parren’s burning gaze was fixed upon him. He felt the weight of the thin man’s hatred like a lead yoke on his shoulders. Parren was willing him to fail, and Robin knew he would get his wish. He felt crushed, badly in need of support, and once more looked around for Bull. But the big man was nowhere in sight.

  Resigned, he stepped back as Pharikian gestured to Blaine. The task Sullyan had set him all those months ago was the breaking of a Firefield, and Blaine had been chosen to cast it in her absence. The General strode toward the edge of the platform, eyes hard, face stern, and Robin felt him gathering his will and his rarely used strength. Although most of those in attendance were not Artesans and couldn’t see the Firefield clearly, there were still amazed gasps as the glittering lines and fiery grids materialized around Robin. Blaine might not often use his power, but he was a Master still. His touch was sure.

  Robin hastily tried to gather his friable wits. If only he could find the strength to deal with this quickly, get it over and done with. He spent some time examining the structure, looking for flaws in its construction. He had dared to hope that Blaine might leave him a small loophole that he could use to his advantage, but he soon realized his error. Blaine was a General as well as a Master Artesan, and his integrity would never permit him to do such a thing. Especially not with the King and a Senior Master looking on. No matter how sympathetic he might be, Blaine had a reputation to protect.

  Robin accepted he would have to do it the hard way. He felt Taran’s and Cal’s eyes on him, willing him to succeed, and he wished he could take some strength from them, for his own was woefully inadequate. His shoulders slumped.

  + + + + +

  Robin’s hunch was correct. Captain Parren was watching him avidly, praying hard for his failure. Nursing a bitter rage for the thoroughly humiliating experience of being publicly excluded from the promotion list, Parren laid the blame squarely on Robin. The vicious tongue-lashing he had received from Vassa over his behavior during the siege of Hyecombe, and the Colonel’s efforts to impress upon him how grateful he should be to Robin for dropping any formal charges, had done nothing to change Parren’s opinion. He had been told he owed the continuance of his military career to Robin’s forbearance, but this held no meaning for him. Just the opposite, in fact, for in Parren’s eyes Robin’s failure to bring charges proved what Parren had always suspected. Robin was weak and spineless. Now he had even more reason to despise the man. As far as Parren was concerned, Robin had always hidden behind his unnatural powers and Sullyan’s skirts.

  Despite his impotent fury, Parren nurtured a nugget of satisfaction. Sullyan, at least, had got her just desserts. Parren’s heart had rejoiced on overhearing the men of her company bewailing her loss. They were all as weak as women for consenting to follow her lead. He would never have demeaned himself so far as to take orders from a woman. Women had no place among fighting men, and the Manor would be stronger without her. He ignored the fact that he had often been forced to obey Sullyan’s orders—albeit with sullen reluctance—and that she had surpassed his undeniably considerable weapons skills long ago.

  All that was in the past. Her absence, he knew, would leave Robin vulnerable, and Parren had indulged his vicious nature by concocting some very pleasing plans. King Elias’s unexpected actions, however, had shattered Parren’s dreams of vengeance, for a Major was well above a mere Captain’s reach. The very thought of this gross injustice caused Parren to seethe with rage. Sitting stiffly on his horse, he glared murderously at Robin, now and then casting a sullen frown at the small, swarthy man
standing on the platform behind Elias. For some reason, the man kept staring at Parren and seemed to have found something to smile about.

  Click here to listen to “Morgan’s Song” written and performed by the author

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Grief swamped Rienne, and she floundered. It was too much. Never had she experienced grief like this. It was almost as if she could feel the anguish of two people, her own and someone else’s. The song still pounded through her veins, and she was powerless to assuage the grief that rose with its tempo.

  Air with a soft sigh or raging with force

  Filling the spaces of all that we are

  She felt herself raging with the force of a mighty gale, a tornado of bitterness sweeping through her soul. Deshan was carried along with her, whether by will or by chance she could not tell. His strength sustained her, finally enabling her to dampen the almost uncontrollable bitterness with a milder emotion.

  Tempests and zephyrs, the clouds upon their course

  Its voice sings so sweetly when love is the source

  It was then that Rienne realized she could see a thick, pearly light. It was like trying to peer though soft wool. She could even feel its tendrils on her cheek. And now she was walking—when had that happened? She could hear her own footfalls, or was it just the beat of her heart?

  And where had the song gone? Its strain had disappeared, cut off as if it had never been. Rienne felt bereft, as if she had suddenly lost everything that made sense of her life. A sob worked its way up her throat, pushing irresistibly outward. The tiny sound broke into the void left by the song, its echo bouncing back toward her. Then another echo sounded, and another, but Rienne hadn’t let out any other sobs. So where had those echoes come from?

  Urged gently by Deshan, Rienne moved forward. The echoes came louder now, originating from somewhere to her left. They were not sobs, as Rienne had first thought. They were far too regular. A heartbeat. Someone else’s heartbeat. She turned toward it, drawn unerringly as if tied by a cord.

  The beats grew louder and faster until Rienne was nearly deafened. Her whole body shuddered in time to the throbbing, her own heart linking to the sound and racing in time. Something odd was happening within her. She could feel the presence of another person, as if someone else besides Deshan had suddenly entered her mind. Yet this was different, more intimate than Deshan’s link with her psyche. This was like being two people inhabiting one body.

  Now Spirit rise up and join all these as one

  The core of our being, of all that we are

  The song returned abruptly, playing like thunder in her ears. She could feel another pair of hands, see through another pair of eyes. Another heart beat inside her breast, and this heart was hurting, fearful and lost. A terrible grief leached out from it, threatening to swamp Rienne’s soul. But Rienne was a healer and knew how to give comfort. She reached out with her own heart, pushing love against the grief, comfort against the loss. Wrapping her psyche around the heart, she calmed its frantic beat.

  The source of all loving, the heart’s labors done

  Gradually, she felt something respond. Something that felt familiar. Not knowing why it was important, she knew she must make physical contact with this presence. It was vital to connect on all levels, not just the metaphysical. She reached out a hand into the pearly light, and gave a soft gasp as fingers appeared, seeking hers. They stretched and touched, and suddenly grasped, holding tightly to Rienne’s hand as if she were a lifeline.

  Drawing on the hand, Rienne saw an arm appear, and then another hand reached out. She took it, the fingers cold but warming as her blood pulsed warmth into the skin. Flawless hands, slender hands with amber skin—she knew whose hands they were.

  When two Spirits join, when two souls sing one song.

  Rienne drew Sullyan’s unresisting body into a close and loving embrace.

  + + + + +

  The men were beginning to fidget. None of Robin’s attempts to break the field had made an impression. He had expected as much and was beginning to despair. He didn’t need this, not now. He didn’t know what else to do. He was going to have to admit defeat, plead ill-health or something, anything, to get out of this with at least a shred of dignity. He just wasn’t strong enough. He didn’t have the will to concentrate, not even to end his humiliation. Slumping with misery, he saw the anguish in Pharikian’s eyes even as he opened his mouth to plead with the man.

  His words never emerged. Pharikian turned his head, frowning as a disturbance sounded at the far end of the parade ground. All heads turned that way, but Robin couldn’t see what was happening. There was noise, lots of it, and for a panicky moment he thought they were under attack, especially when most of the troops on the parade ground suddenly drew their weapons. He couldn’t move because the Firefield was still intact, steadfastly maintained by Blaine even though the General’s attention was also focused on what was happening. Robin was about to call out to him when the people on the parade ground moved back, parting to either side as if a scythe had swung their way.

  Robin gasped when he saw the distinctive translucent shimmer of a portway appear over the parade ground. His blood froze. Who would open a portway this close to people? It was madness. He could see the consternation in Blaine’s eyes, but the General was powerless to oppose the structure while his psyche was caught up in the Firefield. Their only hope was Pharikian.

  He turned to the Hierarch, expecting to feel the man exert his will and prevent the portway from opening. Yet Pharikian had a smile on his face, and Robin’s heart shivered within him. Was it possible …?

  Jerking his eyes back to the spectacle, Robin held his breath. The portway ceased its shimmer and hung immobile, exquisitely controlled with no leakage whatsoever. It would harm no one unless they blundered into it by mistake, and everyone was keeping a very safe distance from it. Then its color changed, bleeding from grey to red, and a figure appeared within it.

  Robin’s throat was so tight it was painful. His lungs pleaded for air, yet he didn’t have the wit to breathe. All his focus yearned toward the portway, all his hope and strength willing this miracle to happen. When Deshan stepped out onto the parade ground, Robin staggered from disappointment. What was Deshan doing there? Then Rienne stepped out, and his whole body tensed. Rienne held someone’s hand, and when another figure appeared dimly through the structure, Robin felt his heart stop completely.

  There was an instant of complete silence when Sullyan emerged from the portway into the sunlight of the parade ground. The structure behind her vanished with a soft sigh of air, and the sigh was replaced by a great clamor of welcome from her company, which quickly spread to the rest of the men. Robin’s heart restarted with a lurch, sending him forward almost into the Firefield. He had to clench his muscles to stop himself being burned. He stood in shock, gasping for breath, while Rienne and Deshan escorted Sullyan through the cheering men and up to the platform.

  She was unsteady on her feet, he could see that, and looked a little dazed, but otherwise she seemed unharmed. Elias and Pharikian approached her and she went down on one knee. Elias moved swiftly to raise her, his hand beneath her elbow to help her stand.

  “Your Majesties, please forgive my late and dramatic entrance. It was not my intention, I assure you.”

  Elias snorted. “Under the circumstances, Major, there is nothing to forgive. We are all very pleased to see you safely returned.”

  Bowing her head, she released his hand and turned to Pharikian. The Hierarch held out his own right hand and she took it in both of hers, pressing it lingeringly to her cheek before kissing the royal amethyst. He said nothing. The moisture in his eyes and the expression on his face told all.

  Completely forgotten by the cheering crowds milling around the Firefield, Robin stood forlorn and stunned. He could not have moved even had he possessed the strength, for it was not permitted to break a test for Mastery without the permission of the senior Artesan present. Fortunately, Pharikian recalled
the task at hand. Nodding toward Blaine, he gently alerted Sullyan to what was taking place. She caught Blaine’s eye and smiled at him. He shook his head in relief.

  When she finally faced Robin and met his eyes, the pang of love that shot between them made her sway. It very nearly brought Robin to his knees.

  “Sullyan!” he whispered, stretching out a hand as if he could reach her. His fingertips brushed the Firefield and sparks crackled sharply in the air. He snatched his hand back. “Sullyan!” he pleaded more urgently.

  She was clearly fighting with her own emotions, struggling for breath. In such charged and awkward tension, she did the only thing she could.

  “Captain—oh, your pardon,” she said as she caught sight of the double thunderflash on his breast, “Major Tamsen. I do believe you are under test.”

  Her forced smile begged him to forgive her.

  He was astounded, unable to believe she would prolong his agony. There were murmurs among the crowd, and even Rienne looked concerned. But this was the only way. Doubtless, Sullyan knew Robin would never forgive himself if he failed now.

  Her voice gaining strength, the light of love never leaving her eyes, she said, “You have been set a test, Major. Are you going to let me down?”

  Swallowing painfully, Robin acknowledged his dilemma. He was going to have to complete the test if he wanted to hold her in his arms once more. But he was still in trouble. He really didn’t have the strength, and the shock of her incredible re-appearance had only drained him further.

  “Major,” he said, trying to pitch his voice for her ears alone, “I can’t do it. I couldn’t get the hang of breaking it the way you did. I never have. It just won’t work for me.”

  Cocking her head, she regarded him. “Oh, Robin, I did not make the rules. I never said you had to do it my way. Find your own path.”