Path of Kings

by James Dale

  Jack stirred and slowly opened his eyes. There was a woman sitting at the edge of his bed, an ethereal beauty with silver hair, braided and draped over her right shoulder, that reached almost to her waist. She had a slender neck, high cheek bones and smooth, perfect skin. Braedan would have guessed the woman somewhere in her late twenties or early thirties, if not for the ancient wisdom and... pain...in her sparkling green eyes. So much pain could never have been borne by someone so young.

  "How are you feeling?" she asked again, touching the back of a delicate hand against his cheek.

  "Better," Jack replied hesitantly. He was so weak he could not even raise his head from the pillow where it rested. He was as hungry as a starving wolf, but he did indeed feel better. "Thank you."

  "You are welcome," the woman smiled warmly. "Your fever has finally broken." she announced, removing her hand to adjust the thick blanket covering him.

  "Where am I?" Jack asked. He appeared to be in some sort of cavern. It was brightly lit now with several oil burning lamps. On the far wall he could see a low shelf carved into the gray stone, filled with a number of leather-bound books. Across from it on the other side of the room was a cabinet containing hundreds of clay jars, arranged carefully by size and shape. Aside from those two items the room was spartanly bare, except for the bed where he lay and a sturdy chair occupied by the silver haired woman.

  "Where am I?" he asked again.

  "Somewhere safe," she assured him with a smile. "Safe as you can be in these hills at any rate. Can you tell me the last thing you remember?"

  "I was being..." Jack replied slowly, "Chased." The memories were there. He could sense them distantly, but his mind seemed to be filled with fog.

  "Chased?" she prompted. "By whom?"

  Closing his eyes in concentration, Jack fought against the veil of mist obscuring his thoughts. "grim'Hiru? I was being chased by grim'Hiru. I was climbing a hill and…I was shot." he said, the memories flooding back as the fog was swept aside. "In the shoulder. I fell and...and..."

  "Excellent," the woman smiled reassuringly. "And can you remember your name?"

  "My name is..." he hesitated suddenly. Who is this woman? Could she be in league with the Iron tower? Not likely. If she had been from Gorthiel he would be dead now. Or Nalon-Lox would be the one questioning him. "My name is…Jack."

  "Good," she sighed with unmistaken relief. "Very good. It appears I stopped the poison in time. Shar'ak Root attacks the brain as it kills. Sometimes...even if the victim survives, a permanent loss of memory can occur."

  "Shar'ak Root?"

  "It was on the bolt which struck you," she nodded. "It passed completely through your shoulder. Luckily it didn't strike any bones. If it had lodged in your body well...let us just say we would not be having this conversation. You have also broken your right leg and damaged some ligaments in your knee. Both will heal in time with the proper care."

  "How did I get here?" Jack asked.

  "No more questions," the woman smiled. "You still need much rest."

  "But how..."

  "Tomorrow," she insisted, tucking his blanket tightly around his shoulders. "I promise I will answer all you ask tomorrow."

  Jack's eyelids began to grow heavy almost immediately as she stood gracefully and began to dim the lamps. "What is your name lady?" he asked, as sleep began to claim him.

  "My name is Cil’lena," the white-haired woman smiled. "Sleep now Jack Bra’Adan. And do not dream."

  "Good morning," Cil’lena said softly, rousing Braedan from his slumber. "How are you feeling?"

  "Much better," Jack replied truthfully, yawning as he struggled to sit.

  "I have brought food," she smiled, placing a tray laden with fruit on his lap; dried apples, figs, and something resembling like sliced pears. "Do you think you can eat?"

  Jack's stomach rumbled loudly in reply and he grinned sheepishly. He began to wolf down the fruit and in but a few short minutes he had devoured everything on the tray, sighing wistfully when nothing remained.

  "My...but you were hungry," the beautiful woman smiled. "I will bring you more later. Now that you are fed and rested, I will answer your questions as promised."

  "Where am I?" Jack asked. It was the foremost thought on his mind.

  "My home," Cil’lena replied. "You are my first guest in many, many years. The first welcome guest I should say. I have had other uninvited callers, but they found my hospitality wanting for some reason. grim'Hiru are not the politest of company as you have discovered."

  Jack nodded, unconsciously reaching up to finger the bandages on his shoulder. "And where is that?" he asked.

  "In a cave. Not far from where I found you."

  "What?" he cried, alarmed.

  "Have no fear," Cil’lena smiled. "I have taken...steps to insure we will not be disturbed."

  "I must warn you lady, I have made some powerful enemies lately."

  "I know," she nodded.

  "They will be looking for me."

  "Even when they think you are buried under a hundred tons of rock and snow?" she asked.

  "What do you mean?"

  "There was a most...convenient avalanche soon after I found you," Cil’lena smiled. "Likely those following you, those who survived, gave up their search days ago."

  "Days? How long have I been here?"

  "Almost a week now," she replied thoughtfully. "Yes, almost a week."

  "I don't mean to seem ungrateful," Jack said hesitantly, "but what the hell are you doing this close to Gorthiel?"

  "Waiting," Cil’lena answered.

  "Waiting for what?"

  “For you, apparently Son of Bra’Adan,” the Ailfar replied. “I am surprised however, to find you here without Yhswyndyr."

  "You know...you know who I am?"

  "You have said much in your sleep the last few days," Cil’lena laughed. "And Tereil Annen has told me of you."

  "You have seen Tereil?" Jack cried. "Where is he?"

  "Nearby most likely," she sighed. "Though I have tried to send that old fool packing several times over the last month. He and those stubborn Amarians were actually planning to assault Agash Thugar when I found them! As if a hundred new Galekindar could do what it took Ljmarn and his entire army a month to accomplish? They have been a thorn in Galen's side though." Cil’lena admitted with a note of grudging respect. "I will give them that. Ambushing grim'Hiru patrols and such. It's a wonder he hasn't leveled these hills trying to ferret them out."

  "Who is Galen?" Jack asked.

  "Galen Severa, The Warden of Gorthiel," the woman spat. "Alas, I was not gifted with the Foretelling as was my mother. If I'd only known what he would become, I would have throttled that whelp in his crib, despite my healer's oath. It would have saved everyone much grief. But healing is my gift. And of that you should be grateful. The Shar'ak Root pressed my skills to their limits."

  "I guess I should count myself lucky to have been found by such a competent physician," Jack smiled. "And one so beautiful."

  "Beautiful?" Cil’lena laughed musically. "The Shar'ak Root must have damaged your brain after all." Yet she unconsciously reached up to smooth her silver tresses. As she did this, Jack caught a brief glimpse of one delicate ear, slightly pointed and lobe less. Cil’lena was an Ailfar! What was an Ailfar healer doing in the hills surrounding Gorthiel?

  "Well..." she smiled, interrupting his thoughts, "if you are well enough to try flattery on someone old enough to be your...mother. Then perhaps you are well enough to have a visitor."

  "Tereil?" Jack asked, brightening. Then another possibility occurred to him. "Tarsus!"

  "Not Tereil," Cil’lena said. "He is most likely still searching for his grandson. Do not be overly concerned,” she added quickly, seeing worry cloud his face. “The Margalags are a maze of rock and stone. You could station an army in these mountains and pass right through them without seeing a sould. If he and the Jahrkirin escaped the grim’Hiru they could be anywhere by now. This visitor is…different.
"

  Not Tereil or Tarsus? Who could it be? "If I told you it would spoil the surprise,” Cil’lena smiled, as if reading his mind. “I shan’t be long."

  The Ailfar woman had been gone for only a short time when Jack heard her returning, accompanied by the loud clopping of iron shod hooves. Suddenly he felt a familiar presence touch his mind.

  "Eaudreuil!" he cried as the roan thrust his enormous head into the room.

  "Good morning Horse-brother." the Val'anna stallion whinnied happily. "So, you've finally decided to come back from the land of dreams."

  "Come here you hairy lummox!"

  "Absolutely not!" Cil’lena cried. "I will not have that great beast tramping about in my bed chamber! When you are able to walk again you can visit him in his own quarters. For now, you two will have to be content with this."

  "How are you Eaudreuil?" Jack laughed, delirious with joy at the sight of his friend. "Are you... well?" He pushed his thoughts out to the Val'anna, searching for any illness the stallion might have suffered on the night when Ul'gogrel had attacked them in the Bergaweld.

  "I am unharmed," the Val'anna replied, sensing his concern.

  "I shall leave you two to get re-acquainted." Cil’lena smiled, stroking the stallion's broad neck. "Mind what I said now Eaudreuil. You stay out of my room. If I come back and find you've disobeyed me, you'll get no apples for a week."

  "Yes Silverstar," the stallion replied meekly.

  "You...you can talk to her!" Jack said wonderingly after Cil’lena left them.

  "Silverstar is a Horse-sister!" the roar beamed. "It is told among the Val'anna long ago many of the Tree Shadows could Mindspeak, though only a few are able today. I think she was also once a Lord."

  "Cil’lena?" Jack asked incredulously. But the more he thought about it, the more likely it seemed. It would explain what she was doing in these hills, and how she had remained safely undiscovered for so long. "It appears there is more to our host than meets the eye Eaudreuil," he mused. "But we can talk about that later. Tell me what happened to you after...after we were... ummm, separated."

  "When the ill wind came," the stallion shuddered, "I forgot myself. Forgot I am Val'anna. Forgot my duty to you. My only thought was to escape the voices. To run. I am sorry Horse- brother."

  "There is no need to apologize, my friend," Jack said, consoling the stallion. "You could not fight the Bergaweld. I would have done the same if I hadn't been knocked senseless."

  "When the madness left me," the roan continued after a moment. "I was far to the north. So far I could no longer feel you. I came back as fast as I could, but you were gone. I found the evil two-legs tracks, the beast-men took you, and I followed them here. That is when Cil’lena Silverstar found me. She convinced me I could not attack the black man mountain where they had taken you and Tarsus with teeth and hooves. She made me wait here with her until you came out again or Tereil and his new Storm Fighters could find a way inside and take you back from them. It was a long wait Horse-brother. I was worried I would never see you again. Then Cil’lena felt something happening inside the man-mountain and we went outside into the snow...I do not like snow." Eaudreuil snorted. “It makes my feet cold and it is hard to drink. I saw a dragon!"

  "I saw it too." Jack sighed.

  "Cil’lena said it was hunting for you," the stallion continued, "but it would hunt us too if it saw us so Cil’lena hid us. We stayed outside most of the day. I killed many beast-men before we found you. You were hurt so Cil’lena put you on my back. Then she did something to make the hill fall apart and we came back here. You slept for a long time Horse-brother." Eaudreuil snorted, "So long I thought you would join Gilasha. But now you are awake again! When can we leave? Cil’lena Horse-sister feeds me well and she has many apples, but I do not like this place under the ground."

  "Just as soon as I am better." Jack assured the stallion. Looking down at his splinted legs however, he doubted it would be anytime soon.

  They visited for nearly half an hour before Cil’lena returned and announced Jack needed more rest and shooed the stallion away, promising they could visit again tomorrow or the next day.

  "Rest well Horse-brother," Eaudreuil beamed from the doorway to her bed chamber. "I want to see the sun again soon."

  "Cil’lena," Jack asked when they were alone once more. "What caused the avalanche after you found me? That hill was nothing but hard rock and snow."

  "Who can say why the forces of nature move as they do?" she shrugged.

  "Are you...are you a Lord?"

  "Sleep now Jack Bra’Adan," the Ailfar woman smiled. "And do not dream."

  "You keep saying that. Do not dream. Why?"

  "The Lord of Shadow is not bound in the Land of Dreams," she replied quietly, "Though he is chained in Ul’gogrond, he can still do much evil in your dreams. I can protect you here, even this close to Agash Thugar, but into the Land of Dreams I cannot go. I may be many things, but a Dreamwalker I am not. Be careful where you travel while you sleep. You do not have Yhswyndyr yet, Son of Bra‘Adan."

  With that cryptic statement the Lady Cil’lena, Horse-sister, Ailfar Healer, and perhaps one-time Lord, dimmed the lamps and departed. Jack settled back under the thick blankets in the darkness. Just before sleep found him once more, he wondered fearfully how to keep from dreaming.

  "How are you feeling today?" Cil’lena had asked him the same question each morning for the last seven days as she lay the tray of fruit in his lap and sat down beside his bed.

  "Much better thank you," Jack replied again, and each morning the truth of his words grew. He could sit up now without wincing in pain and his shoulder was losing much of its stiffness. Cil’lena had removed the bandages yesterday, examined the yellow bruise around the puckered tissue, and pronounced him well on his way to recovery.

  "That is good," she nodded. "Tell me again all you know about the Tears of Yh’Adan." She produced the three yellow stones from the leather pouch she had made for them. "Can you recall the words Maelcain used to bring them to life?"

  "No lady," Jack sighed.

  "Try," she smiled. "Please."

  Cil’lena was extremely curious about the stones. She knew the Tears held great power. It was the unleashing of that power she had somehow sensed on the day Maelcain had used them to gain their freedom. Until she had brought them out yesterday and questioned him about them, Jack had feared them lost, buried beneath the avalanche which had covered their escape. He had thought Bin'et ardendel lost as well, and asked her if she also had the sword.

  "Yes," she had replied with a smile, but Cil’lena had not brought it out to show him. Jack thought perhaps she feared he would go out to search for Tarsus. That he was still missing after two weeks gnawed at him. That Maelcain was still unaccounted worried him too, but if anyone could survive winter in the hills surrounding Gorthiel, it would be the Bahrah'nahir of the Vestir'nah. Jack’s only hope was the two of them had escaped the dragon together and were hiding, like him, in some cave, waiting for the Iron Tower to give up the hunt. "Yes. I have the Talon of the Hawk, and I shall give it back to you when you are fully recovered and not a minute before. Now...tell me again all you know about these stone."

  Jack had told her the same story Maelcain had imparted to him in the darkness of their cell. Every word. But he did not know how to command their power. He didn't have the faintest clue. When she asked him how it was he had them and not the Jahrkirin, he told her the tale again. Cil’lena seemed to accept his word, hearing the truth in his voice, but still she questioned him. Three times she'd made him repeat the story yesterday, and twice more today. That she hoped to gain some knowledge of their workings was obvious, but what she meant to do with that knowledge was a mystery.

  “I know nothing more Cil’lena." Jack yawned, finishing his tale once more. "If you wish greater knowledge, you'll have to ask Maelcain."

  "I suppose you are right," the Ailfar women sighed. "Ah well, I had hoped..."

  "What Cil’lena?" Jack asked, fin
ally broaching the subject. "To use them against Galen Severa? Maybe even against Graith himself?"

  "They would be a great weapon against Agash Thugar," she replied wistfully. "If I could unlock their power. But it appears they are meant for someone else to wield. As Bin'et ardendel is meant for other hands. Remember that Jack Bra'Adan when I return it to you. You are but a curator of the blade for the House of Th'nar. Nothing more. There is another weapon meant for your hands."

  "I know lady," Jack sighed. "Believe me. I know."

  Chapter Seven

  Aelin’Gil

  Winter passed slowly in Cil’lena’s cave sanctuary. Two weeks became three. Three became a month. During this time Jack began the slow, painful process of healing. His battle with the Shar'ak Root had robbed him of much of his strength and the mending of his broken bones and torn flesh, along with the inactivity accompanying it, drained the rest. The first morning Cil’lena came to begin his rehabilitation, she brought a small stone barely weighing two pounds for him to work with. Holding it down at his side, seated on the bed, he could not lift it to eye level. Even trying to raise it that far had hurt so badly he almost blacked out.

  He could let pain stop him. People needed him. Tarsus and Maelcain needed him. Though there had been no word from Tereil in all this time, he still clung to the hope the two had escaped. Most of all, Annawyn needed him. The nightmare of the auburn haired princess, lying helpless on the black sacrificial alter haunted his every waking moment. Any amount of pain he suffered was worth the price of preventing that from becoming reality.

  So he tried again. And Again. By the third day Jack could lift the stone five times above his head; by the end of the week he could do it ten times. Then Cil’lena brought a larger stone, this one weighing nearly five pounds, and the process began anew. When he could do the same with that stone the Ailfar healer began to focus her attention on his injured legs.

  The pain he'd endured working with his shoulder was nothing when compared to this agony. Cil’lena was a merciless taskmaster, ignoring even his most pitiful cries. Seemingly immune to his pain, the Ailfar Healer drove him relentlessly. There were times during this period when Jack would have joyfully strangled the green eyed beauty; when he would have rather seen Nalon-Lox and a squad of grim'Hiru bringing him his breakfast than the silver haired Ailfar. That she cried herself to sleep at night, loathing the pain she would be forced to inflict on him the following morning, Jack was selfishly oblivious. If he had known, he would not have worked so hard to spite her. But if he had known, his shoulder would not have been completely healed at the end of the second month and his legs would not have mended to the point he could walk unassisted around her small bed chamber with only the barest limp.