Upon the Flight of the Queen

by Howard Andrew Jones

  Under Kyrkenall’s ring light, the feathers mostly looked different shades of blue.

  Tentatively Elenai put a hand toward it, encountering the same kind of resistance field she’d found about the people Belahn had been “protecting.” Once she was a thumbspan away, she couldn’t get any closer, no matter how much harder she pressed.

  “This is Lelanc,” Kyrkenall said quietly, turning off his ring before he rose. “Aradel’s friend.”

  “N’lahr said Cerai had kidnapped her from Alantris. What’s she doing here on the battlement?”

  “One guess,” Kyrkenall said. “Cerai’s been traveling. She got back only recently, and I heard the landing.”

  “And then Cerai put her like this?”

  “I think so.”

  “That doesn’t seem very kind,” Elenai said. Surely Cerai should have let the creature drink and eat. But then if Lelanc was an unwilling servant, this was a far simpler way to keep her prisoner than placing her in chains somewhere.

  “Can you free her?” Kyrkenall asked.

  “I can try. But shouldn’t we talk with Cerai, first?”

  “We know she stole Lelanc. And it seems pretty clear that she’s keeping her prisoner. And we need every ally we can get. Even one ko’aye could help N’lahr against the dragons.”

  “Yes,” Elenai said slowly, a little puzzled that Kyrkenall couldn’t see the larger issue. “I agree with all of that. But isn’t freeing Lelanc liable to anger Cerai? And didn’t you just say that we needed every ally we could get? Shouldn’t we talk to Cerai first?”

  “Never ask permission before you act rightly,” Kyrkenall remonstrated. “Lelanc shouldn’t be a prisoner. And we may not get another chance to free her.”

  Still doubtful, Elenai used the ring to study the magical net woven about the ko’aye. Viewing the magical holds Cerai had made last night, she’d sensed they were different than those she’d seen in Wyndyss. This one, too, proved less powerful than Belahn’s work because that strength was unnecessary. Where his spell had been thorough and, she now saw, coarse, Cerai’s was refined, minimal, accomplishing the same end by slowing the creature’s life force to a near standstill without lancing through every inch of its body.

  All the energy seemed knotted to a single point at the base of Lelanc’s neck.

  “Well?” Kyrkenall asked.

  “I’ll have to turn on the hearthstone.”

  “So go ahead.”

  He was sounding more and more irritable, and she was growing tired of it. “First, I’m not sure this is a good idea. Second, if I turn on the hearthstone, Cerai might sense it.”

  “And third?” Kyrkenall said. “Because it sounds like you were going to say a third.”

  She shook her head, though he was right. Almost she’d told him she was growing more and more concerned about wielding the artifact. “Nothing.” And feeling the shame of that, she threw caution to the winds and reached with threads of intent to the hearthstone in her pack.

  The instant she opened it, the crystal all but enthralled her, even without reaching into its depths. She gasped, her lips tilting into a smile despite herself, and resisted that seductive downward draw, taking only just enough energy to touch the very heart of that knot about Lelanc’s neck.

  The net collapsed upon itself, though Elenai still sensed it quiescent and gathered about the animal’s neck. Elenai turned down the stone, vastly relieved that she’d avoided its temptations.

  Lelanc’s head rose sharply, her eyes still unwinking. Her wings sent a feathery gust at them as they unfurled, and Elenai and Kyrkenall stepped back. The animal let out a cry of anger that rent the night.

  “So much for stealth,” Kyrkenall said.

  That’s what we get for doing it your way, Elenai thought.

  Lelanc’s head lowered and her brows drew down over dark eyes. “Who are you?” she demanded. Her voice was high and harsh.

  “Lelanc, it’s me. Kyrkenall. We’ve freed you.”

  The creature’s eyes narrowed and its neck extended toward the archer. Then its head drew back and its eyes widened. “Drusa’s friend, Kyrkenall? How came you here?”

  “We were looking for Kalandra.”

  Elenai briefly wondered how he expected this ko’aye to know an alten, then remembered Kalandra was the one who’d brokered the original agreement between the ko’aye and the Altenerai.

  Lelanc certainly seemed to recognize her name. “I do not think she is in this place. There are none but the traitor Cerai and her people.”

  Kyrkenall gestured to Elenai. “This is Elenai Oddsbreaker. Her magic set you free.”

  The creature bowed her head in gratitude. “I thank you, Oddsbreaker.”

  “Why is Cerai keeping you prisoner?” Elenai asked.

  “So she may use me to go where she wills. She stole my mind!” Lelanc’s beak opened and she let out a cry of rage. “She makes me go where she wishes! She took me from Alantris and my battle brother, Rylin. I wished to stay! We would have slain the Naor together!”

  “You’ve really got to quiet down,” Kyrkenall said.

  “It’s a little late for that, isn’t it?” Elenai asked him.

  The ko’aye was ranting and paid heed to neither of them. “She said she did not kill him, but he lay unmoving! I saw the walls fall and the Naor charging in!”

  “Rylin lived,” Elenai said, trying to soothe the agitated creature. “He’s wounded, but he’s still alive.”

  Those eyes, great pools of darkness, turned upon her. “Did she tell you that? She is a maker of lies, Oddsbreaker. She lied to Varama, and to Rylin. She tells me now that if she lets me go, I will perish, for all the lands to the distant places will be ripped apart.”

  “That,” a woman’s voice called from behind them, “is no lie!”

  Beside her, Kyrkenall whirled, arrow ready. Lelanc growled from deep within her throat and clawed at the bricks, her wings stirring with menace.

  Only then did Elenai sense anyone approaching through the ring, for the woman and her companions had just entered its radius. As she herself turned, she saw the trio. Sorak and another of the well-formed men walked behind, his companion bearing a lantern. Leading them, at the point of the triangle, was a tall woman with dark hair cascading past the collar of her blue khalat.

  She walked with complete confidence, and though Elenai could see little of her face with the light behind her, her smile was in the sound of her words. “Kyrkenall. You’ve always had terrible timing.”

  Lelanc let out a harsh cry, then screeched, her voice so distorted with trills and clicks and whistles it was barely coherent. “Betrayer! Mind stealer! Egg-thief!” This last must have been the most dire insult of all, because it was the loudest. The ko’aye leapt forward. Elenai ducked, Lelanc’s wing beats stirring her hair.

  The creature landed on her back legs, her front claws stretched forth, her wings fanning the air.

  And then, quite suddenly, Lelanc sank back on her haunches, lowered her front legs, and folded in her wings as her neck dropped. The immense blast of magical energies that brought this brushed Elenai’s ring, and she felt the invigorating presence of a hearthstone flower open in the moment before the stasis net once more enveloped the ko’aye.

  As quickly as it had begun, the attack was finished and Cerai’s hearthstone closed. And the vibrant being who had momentarily wakened to strike with vengeance was once again an immobile prisoner, for all intents and purposes, a statue.

  Lelanc’s attack had blocked Elenai’s view of Cerai’s activity. It might be that there had been nothing to see, for Cerai was visible once more and she seemed not to have moved in the slightest. Still silhouetted by the light, she stood with arms relaxed and loose.

  It didn’t matter that she herself had cautioned against freeing the ko’aye, Elenai now knew rage at the way the noble creature had so contemptuously been rendered helpless, her legitimate grievances silenced by smug authority.

  “Let her go,” she said, her voice steely
.

  “Aye,” Kyrkenall echoed. He wasn’t pointing his arrow directly at Cerai, but it could be brought into line in a heartbeat.

  “If I let her go, she’s going to fly off to her doom. She’s impossible to reason with.”

  “For some reason she doesn’t trust you,” Elenai said.

  “You’re awfully rude to someone who’s provided you with food and shelter.” Cerai sounded disappointed, as a mother might with a child playing at the table when dinner guests were present. “I’m not your enemy, Alten. Perhaps you should hear me out before doing anything rash, and judge with all the facts rather than feeling.”

  “We need Lelanc’s help, Cerai,” Kyrkenall said. “To fight the Naor beasts.”

  “You really don’t need to worry about the Naor,” Cerai said. “I’ve tried explaining it to Lelanc, but she refuses to listen. I have cared for her with healing magics, and provided food and water, but she will not trust me. Maybe she’ll listen if you explain it. But for now, for my safety, and hers, I’d prefer to keep her as she is. Do you understand?”

  Kyrkenall lowered his bow, then slid his arrow back into its quiver. He pushed Arzhun back into its holster, accomplishing the last with practiced ease.

  Elenai feigned relaxing, though her senses were still stretched taut. She disliked Cerai intensely and distrusted her, but the older woman’s powers seemed likely to dwarf her own.

  “I’d planned to talk with you after sunrise,” Cerai said. “It’s been a very long night for me. But seeing as how we’re all awake and you two are bristling, let’s just get it over with. Come along, then.” With that, she turned on her heel and advanced past Sorak and his companions. Those two followed obediently and Kyrkenall went after. Elenai spared another look to Lelanc, sitting with eyes frozen in fury, and her own anger flared once more. I will free you, she vowed.

  Cerai said nothing to them during the long walk back. Speaking with her would have been inconvenient given that she remained fifteen feet or more ahead of them even once they were descending the long flights of stairs.

  When they reached the bottom of the stairwell, they passed through a series of short corridors, arriving at last at a spacious room with a large fireplace. Bright woven rugs were cast over the dark granite floors, between groups of plushly cushioned furniture arranged in conversational groups. A wide bookcase stuffed with volumes sat near a window.

  As Sorak and the other servants lit lanterns, Elenai realized the sound of falling water she’d heard originated from a decorative cascade two spear lengths wide spattering down the wall opposite the fireplace and into a little channel that flowed into a circular pool between the furniture. Little fish, frightened of the human shadows, flashed silver as they darted from one side of the pool to the other.

  Elenai saw Cerai’s face in full at last, fastening upon the lovely features: the slim nose; the bright eyes burning with intelligence; the dark, full lips twisted most of the way into a mocking smile. Her collar was unhooked, baring her throat down to her clavicle.

  She dominated the room. It wasn’t that she was physically the most beautiful woman Elenai had ever seen, although she certainly compared, it was that she projected something more than confidence, more even than charm. It was, Elenai decided, a kind of regal dignity that most rulers only aspired toward. She wondered if it were magical.

  “Welcome, Altenerai,” their host said, her hand pressed in salute. As the lanterns showed their full glow at last, Cerai was revealed as older than she first appeared. Her face had age lines and the occasional wrinkle. Elenai tried and failed to remember her true age, but thought that she did not appear nearly as old as she should.

  She and Kyrkenall returned the salute and answered as one. “Hail.”

  The archer stepped around the rim of the pool and offered his hand to the enchantress. They clasped arms below the elbow, his dusky fingers at contrast with her pale ones.

  “You are even more beautiful than I remember,” Kyrkenall told her.

  “Thank you for noticing. And you are as lovely as I recall.” She then took in Elenai. “Congratulations on your elevation,” she said. “I’m sorry, I don’t recall your name.”

  “Elenai,” Kyrkenall said. “Elenai Dartaan, known as Elenai Oddsbreaker.”

  “A sobriquet already?” Cerai’s expression was both curious and faintly amused.

  Elenai found the older woman’s grip firm as she clasped her arm and stepped away.

  “N’lahr gave it to her a few weeks ago,” Kyrkenall explained.

  Cerai’s look grew sharp; gone was a hint of playfulness. Kyrkenall had caught her off guard.

  “You’re not joking.”

  “No,” Kyrkenall assured her. “Did you know where he was?”

  “I’d assumed he was in his tomb.”

  “So had most of us.”

  Cerai’s lips twisted thoughtfully. “It looks as though you have more to tell me than I thought. Please. Sit.” Cerai indicated the overstuffed couch at a right angle to the chair into which she sank, and motioned the servants away.

  Kyrkenall removed Arzhun and leaned the bow and its quiver against the couch, unbuckled his sword belt, carefully propped Lothrun beside the great black bow, and then took the offered seat. After a moment, Elenai followed his example.

  Cerai paused at the sound of footsteps. A trio of male servants arrived bearing platters with bread, smoking meats, and cheeses, and additional goblets and wine. A fourth followed with small wooden tables, which he deposited near Cerai, Elenai, and Kyrkenall before bowing and departing. The others then placed the items that they carried and all but the one who’d brought the wine bottles left on the instant. The sweet scent of warm ham was umistakable and very pleasant. Until that moment Elenai hadn’t realized she was hungry.

  “Is there anything else you need?” The lead servant asked.

  “Not currently. Wait over there in case one of us requires something.”

  “Of course.” He bowed and then retreated to stand near the fireplace.

  Cerai shook her head, with the air of long-suffering patience. “You should try the bread. They’ve gotten a lot better at baking.”

  “They’re kobalin, aren’t they,” Elenai said. “You’ve changed them somehow.”

  Cerai smiled the way one would with a very clever pet. “Very good. Kobalin are naturally sensitive to magic, so I use them to ferret out the hearthstones. And some I alter for my own purposes.”

  Elenai hid her dismay. She’d really hoped for a different answer. “How do you do it? Shaping living beings is—should be—impossible. Even the most basic kinds of healing take years to master—”

  “I’m a quick study. And I’ve grown used to hearthstones.”

  That was hardly illuminating. “So you’ve been spending a lot of time out here experimenting,” Elenai said. “I’m not at all clear on how that helps the realms.”

  Cerai looked to the archer, speaking as though Elenai weren’t there. “She’s so critical, Kyrkenall. You can trust me, you know.”

  “I’m not sure who I can trust anymore,” Kyrkenall said. “N’lahr. Elenai. Probably Varama and Tretton and Gyldara. Maybe Enada.”

  “That’s a short list. I think you can probably depend upon Decrin, too.”

  “Decrin’s dead.”

  Cerai’s face fell. “How did he die?”

  “I slew him,” Kyrkenall said grimly.

  At Cerai’s stunned stare, Elenai interjected: “Decrin had been tricked by Denaven into fighting us.”

  “Ah. And Kyrkenall then killed Denaven, I hope?”

  “Elenai managed that.”

  Cerai arched an eyebrow at Elenai, her head rising at the same moment, as if her respect notched a mark higher. “So where was N’lahr all this time?”

  “Denaven and the queen had him as a statue, like the ones you have here.”

  “Really.” Her brow furrowed. “I didn’t think they knew how to do that.”

  Kyrkenall answered. “I don’t belie
ve it was intentional.”

  “Curious. So. You really didn’t know I was here?”

  “No. I’d heard you were on long patrol, keeping an eye on the Naor and steering clear of Darassus and Denaven.”

  “Like you?” she asked.

  “It looks like you’ve been mostly here. Unless you built all this in a day.”

  Cerai’s smile was highly satisfied. “I have become something of a miracle worker, but I didn’t manage this in a day. Please—eat. I’ve just finished a light meal,” she said, lifting a goblet, “but as soon as I was alerted that you were awake, I ordered my people into the kitchens.”

  “Perhaps later,” Kyrkenall said. “We’ve a lot of questions.”

  “I imagine you do.” Cerai put the goblet to her lips and sipped. “First, though, why don’t you tell me what you’re doing here?”

  “We came for help.”

  “For Lelanc?”

  “We didn’t know Lelanc was here. The realms have been invaded by several Naor armies. N’lahr sent us to find the ko’aye, and we heard rumors of an alten out here. I thought it might be Kalandra. But it turns out it was the commander, whom the kobalin have been worshiping as a god.” Kyrkenall’s tone grew accusatory. “You knew the commander’s body was there, and you just left him to rot, with his ring and everything?”

  Cerai laughed. “That’s what you want to talk about?”

  “It’s a start. A lot of us would have liked to have known what happened to him. And you know we’re low on rings.”

  “I think the kobalin had the right idea. Let a man like that lie.” She raised her goblet in salute. “Ring and all.”

  “You think maybe you should have run that past the rest of the Altenerai?”

  “If I told anyone else, they would have headed out here. And Denaven and the queen would have learned what I was doing. I couldn’t have that.”

  “What are you doing?” Elenai asked. Because it certainly didn’t seem as though Cerai was keeping to her oath.

  Cerai hadn’t missed the skepticism in her voice. “Are you judging before you have the facts, Alten?”