An Emperor's Gamble (Legend of Tal: Book 3)

by J. D. L. Rosell

  Tal grinned into the wind as the forest flew by.

  His recent travails left his head like a gust stealing fallen leaves. He had almost died twice in short order, and once by a man he considered his friend. His companions had fought and killed Nightelves who might be their allies. They were all fleeing for their lives in a foreign land.

  Yet Tal was soaring. How could he not be? For his arms were wrapped around Ashelia.

  Ashelia, the woman he had pined for over two decades. Ashelia, the elf of his dreams, a love he had begun to accept could never be more than a spring-born romance immortalized in Falcon's tales.

  But she was here. Flesh and blood and bone — and stink of the road, if he was honest. But he would take it all, so long as she was pressed against him.

  This time, he promised her silently, I won't let go.

  Still, he could not help but think of Pim's last words to him. Bonds have ever weakened men's resolve. How could they make him weak when they filled him with such life?

  But how can I lose my life now that she has found me?

  He pushed the weighty thoughts from his mind. Now was not the time to taint the frail joy, but to revel in it. Ashelia had come after him. Ashelia had forgiven him. Whatever else might come, they deserved their time in the sun, however briefly it might last.

  His jubilation was not limited to his reunion with her. Everywhere he turned were the faces of those he cared for, and who cared enough for him to brave the Eastern wilds.

  Falcon, maimed by Tal's own blade, yet still so loyal a friend he would risk the rest of his limbs trying to save him.

  Kaleras, his estranged father, who had once despised him enough to leave him to die at the hands of Soltor, had imperiled the years remaining to him to preserve Tal's life.

  Even Aelyn, who had almost killed him —though he remained infuriated, surely he had not come only for some imagined vengeance against Tal. So he hoped.

  Helnor and Wren and Rolan... And Garin. The lad had come after him, a mentor who had betrayed him in so many ways. Yet still, he came. As Tal watched him, riding with Wren as Tal rode with Ashelia, Garin looked up and met his gaze, then glanced away.

  Tal's grin slackened. He cares. But Silence knows I have ground to recover.

  They rode through the misty forest for mile upon mile. The land rose and fell. The giants grew thicker, then sparser, though still with far more girth than any other tree but kintrees. It had been long since he felt the glimmer of sorcery from anyone but his companions. They had lost any possible pursuit, for the moment at least.

  When a deeper gray seeped through the canopy, Ashelia called for a halt. He stole a private smile at her command of the group. Even among this company of stubborn goats, he was not surprised that she was the one to take the reins. She doled out commands regarding the security of the camp to the various members, but not before administering a brief, scathing reprimand to Garin and Wren for wandering off from the group back in the Vale of Mists. Tal watched in silent admiration as the two youths hung their heads and meekly went about their assigned chores.

  Then Ashelia turned on him with a smile a cat might give a mouse. "Everyone has to pitch in. You can fetch us water."

  Tal flashed her a wider grin. "As you wish, m'lady."

  She gave him a withering look, but even in jest, she could not hide the joy dancing in her stormy eyes.

  With a last smile, Tal gathered their party's waterskins, then settled them against the base of a tree. Standing before them, he closed his eyes and exhaled completely. Awareness of the others watching him slowly faded as he attenuated to the power burbling just outside his body, eager to be invited in.

  He inhaled, and sorcery poured into him.

  It flooded his veins, thicker than blood, burning pleasantly everywhere it touched. Even in his youth, before he had been poisoned by the Thorn's stone, he had never felt such command of the magic. Now, he could almost believe himself worthy of the stories told about him.

  Almost.

  "Alm," Tal murmured. Moving his hands slowly, gently, he drew on the sorcery and coaxed the moisture from the air. Mist beaded into droplets, growing in size until they merged into a lattice of tiny streams. As enough water accumulated, Tal directed the water into the flasks, moving his arms with the flow of the magic. A stream funneled into each until water spilled over.

  Not even a whisper of pain assaulted him.

  As all the flasks were filled, Tal tied off the spell and conducted the last of the water into his mouth. Swallowing, he met Ashelia's wide eyes from across the camp. He shrugged with a smile, as if to say, What did you expect?

  She was not the only one watching him. Aelyn and Kaleras looked over from where they had been inscribing glyph traps into trees: the elf with furiously spinning eyes, the old warlock with habitual stoniness. Garin, Wren, and Rolan, midway through setting up the shelters, all stared in amazement, though Garin pulled free of it as soon as he noticed Tal looking. Helnor only shook his head in bemusement.

  Falcon, contributing little to the camp preparations that Tal could see, ambled over to clap him on the shoulder. "Now there is the sorcery I've been waiting to see! Where have you kept it all these years, my friend? That is the inspiration a bard needs for the final verses of his crowning ballad!"

  "I hope not the final one." Tal grinned in return.

  With his flaunting finished, the rest of the work went quickly. Soon, a fire was burning, sheltered from casual view by a spell from Tal, and a simple meal was had by all. He sat and ate with his reunited companions, as happy as he'd been in years.

  Silence reigned for a time before Aelyn interrupted it.

  "Well?" the mage prompted, his bright eyes on Tal.

  Tal lowered the strip of dried venison from his mouth and stared into the fire. His gaiety sobered as he remembered all he must confess.

  "Yes," he said softly. "I suppose it's time. Before you try to kill me again."

  He glanced at Aelyn, but the elf only returned the look with a remorseless glare.

  Left with no other choice, Tal began to talk. He left nothing out of his account. He spoke of Elendol, and the events in the throne room of House Elendola. Of his helplessness as he watched Geminia suffer the same fate as her husband had years before. Of the beloved Queen acting as the blood sacrifice for Heyl's resurrection. This struck the elves particularly hard, and Aelyn hid his face and bent over in silent sobs.

  Then Tal told them of how he had severed his finger and slain the sorcerers detaining them, but been thwarted by the dancing master Ulen before he could strike down the Thorn. But in a dream, some being had showed him the way free of his shackles. He had awoken and dug out the shard of Heartstone, long since lodged in his side, even though he knew the act might kill him. Yet as soon as he had pried it free, sorcery such as he'd never known had flooded him, enough even to overcome the Thorn and, with some aid, the fire devil rampaging below.

  "Then you left," Ashelia broke in. She sat next to him, pressed close to his side, but she pulled away slightly at her declaration.

  "Why did you leave?" Rolan queried from her other side. "We came a long way to find you!"

  Tal smiled at the boy. "Well, lad, I thought I had to. In that moment, filled with more magic than I had known a man could hold, I thought I alone was sufficient to challenge Yuldor."

  "Yuldor?" The boy's eyes had gone round. "The Named himself?"

  "The very same." Tal looked up and found Garin's gaze. The youth's expression made him wince, for in it was mockery he was used to seeing only from Aelyn.

  "But I was wrong," he admitted quietly, holding Garin's gaze. "I wasn't enough."

  His old apprentice looked aside, the muscles in his jaw working.

  Tal pressed forward with his tale. He told them of his flight into the East, how he used sorcery to bolster his stor far beyond its ordinary capacity. But day by day, the sorcery ebbed, and the pain that accompanied it asserted itself.

  "Scars, I assumed the wounds to b
e, for Heyl had lashed at me in its dying throes. Every time I employed sorcery, the wounds seemed to break open afresh, spilling corruption into my being. I was becoming sick with it, running myself to exhaustion, yet I could do nothing but press on. More than ever, I was convinced I had made the right decision to leave you all behind."

  Falcon shook his head with exaggerated disapproval. "You always said you were a fool, Tal Harrenfel. But I never fully believed it till now."

  Tal grinned across the fire. "You should have."

  "What then?" Helnor asked. "We followed your trail for a week, but lost it when you seemed to fall into a river. Was that a false trail?"

  Tal's smile slipped. "No. Ragged as a chimera's mane and barely holding to my sanity, I was trying to catch up to a caravan ahead when an ijiraq assaulted me."

  "So we saw," Helnor murmured.

  "Are they as perilous as the tales say?" Kaleras spoke up for the first time. His tone held no warmth in it, only the professional curiosity of a scholar, or perhaps a hunter.

  Tal shrugged. "Not so deadly that I couldn't have overcome it, but for my ailment. I tried to use my sorcery, but the wasting had gone too far. The spell backfired, and though it killed the beast, I was thrown into the river."

  Tal paused. He had come to the point where he struggled to explain even to himself his subsequent actions. At the time, they had seemed reasonable, each the only way forward. But now…

  He rose to his feet. "The rest can wait till morning. For now, I think we all need to rest. Some of us have had especially long days." He eyed Garin and Wren with a wry smile. Only Wren returned it. Garin, on the other hand, stared at him with hard, suspicious eyes.

  "You're right. You should rest." Ashelia stood and placed a hand on his chest.

  He smiled at the gentle touch. "I'm not tired. My scars have all healed. I can take the first watch."

  "Then I'll watch with you."

  "Only if you actually watch," Helnor broke in with a raised eyebrow.

  Rolan looked up to his mother. "What's Uncle Helnor mean, Momua?"

  Ashelia flashed her grinning brother a look. "Nothing, dear one. Your uncle is only teasing."

  "Teasing about…?" But something seemed to have occurred to the boy, for his brow furrowed.

  "Until morning, then, Harrenfel." Aelyn had stood as well. "And the rest of your explanation had best not be dripping with perfume as it was tonight. Straight and dry is the only way I'll take it."

  "I'd have you dine on nothing less." Tal fought back a smile. He was all too happy to go back to trading gibes instead of spells with the erratic mage.

  The others moved to their shelters. Tal noted that Garin and Wren slept in the same tent. He smiled at that. He had hoped their fragile relationship might survive. They were well-suited to his eye, but between the toils of the journey and the vagaries of youth, there was a good chance something could break it.

  At least Garin has her for comfort.

  The thought brought him back to his own situation. He sat down, his back to the fire, and almost shyly looked askance at Ashelia.

  She stared off into the night, her gaze far away. He wondered what she thought of, and if the memories were happy or somber. He longed to reach out and brush back the springy hair that had fallen on her cheek, then dared to do so, attempting to tuck it behind an ear, though the tress defied his efforts.

  She looked at him, a smile quirking her lips."You are lucky I am so gracious."

  "Am I?" He let his hand linger on her hair, then trail down her back. It was less intimate a gesture with her many layers against the cold, but it called back to mind the many times he had done so when no clothing had interfered with his touch.

  "You are." Ashelia reached out and took his hand in hers, gripping it tightly as she looked off into the darkness. "Otherwise, I would want to kill you too."

  "You're making me wonder if I'm safe alone with you."

  She leaned her head against his shoulder for a moment, then pulled away to look at his clothes. "You never explained those."

  He glanced down at himself and grimaced. Now that she mentioned them, the sewn skins he had accepted from Izoalta had a peculiar reek to them. It was far from how he would have liked to appear before her.

  "Tomorrow. I promise."

  They lapsed into a comfortable silence for a time. The forest was quiet, far quieter than it seemed such woods should be, free of snow as they were. Only far off in the distance did he hear the hoot of an owl and the whisper of wind.

  He sighed. "I only left to keep you safe."

  "I know. It is the only reason I forgave you."

  "That's fair. And I'm grateful you came after me, and that we get to be here, together, now. But part of me wishes you hadn't come. It's dangerous out here in the East, Ashel, as I'm sure you've discovered — though I've yet to hear your tale. What's more, I'm dangerous to be around. My sorcery is contained, for now, but… that might always change."

  He hoped it wouldn't, desperately hoped so. But as much as he felt the master of himself at the moment, there was a distinct possibility that the canker would return. Hellexa Yoreseer had given little certain information about Founts, but she had written enough in her tome to make clear they were dangerous to be around.

  Ashelia gave a small laugh. "The East is the East, Tal. We knew what we were venturing into. As for you — you have never been safe."

  She huddled against his side again, and this time did not pull away as Tal wrapped his arm around her.

  For the first time in a long while, he was content.

  To Glory

  Garin found his mood little improved when he rolled out of his blankets the next morning.

  For a moment, he blinked blearily at the dimness, staring into nothing. His hands and arms, all the way up to his shoulders, still stung with memories of the flames. He had not complained of it, though it had made touching anything uncomfortable. Though he knew it was stupid, he could not bring himself to speak to Ashelia about it. The Peer had hovered near Tal all night, and he didn't want to go near his old mentor if he could help it.

  His gaze fell to Wren, still unconscious by his side. Her mouth was slightly parted, and drool stained the bundle of spare garments that served as her pillow. Her renewed warmth toward him was his one comfort, especially when they had spent a brief time the night before reacquainting themselves with each others' lips. But before they could become more familiar, Wren had pushed him back toward his side of the shelter. "Later," she had said, a bit breathless, to his satisfaction. "When we both don't smell like mongrels."

  Even her coarse words failed to ruin the moment.

  His smile slipped away as the original thought he had woken with returned to him.

  Am I sixteen today?

  He had long ago lost track of the days since Elendol. But if it was not his yearsday that morning, it had either already happened or would soon.

  Sixteen. Still young, but no longer quite on the cusp of manhood. Yet he had so far to grow before he became anywhere near a man like his brothers were. Even his facial hair remained sparse, no more than a thin covering over his upper lip and under his chin.

  A man takes responsibility for his actions.

  Had one of his family said that to him once? It seemed too familiar to be otherwise. He did not have to stretch his imagination to understand what it meant for him now. But though a man might shrug off the feelings of resentment assailing him, Garin couldn't manage it.

  Tal had all but ignored him since reuniting with their fellowship. He mooned over Ashelia, laughed with Falcon, humored Rolan's questions. He even teased Aelyn, who had damn near killed him! He interacted with everyone — everyone except for him. Every time he looked at Garin, it was like he saw something in his eyes that made him skirt away. Like a devil gazed back at him.

  A bitter smile twisted his lips.

  As if the thought had summoned him, Ilvuan filtered lazily into his mind. There can be no rifts between you and the Heartblood, J
enduit. It is not in your nature.

  He tried to temper his annoyance at the Singer's intrusion, but only partially succeeded. What's that supposed to mean?

  Ilvuan was silent for a long time. At length, he answered. Your doash'an, your true name, touches at the core of who you are. Jenduit means "Mender."

  Mender? Garin bit back a laugh, not wanting to disturb Wren. He could not think of a less suitable name.

  What your name means for your life, only you may decide. The feeling radiating from the Singer made it seem as if Ilvuan wished that could be otherwise. But you cannot deny your nature.

  Oh, can I not? Garin barely reined in his temper. This isn't a good time to discuss this. I haven't eaten yet.

  Amusement laced with annoyance filtered through his mind.

  I did not come to counsel you, Jenduit. Only to bring a reminder. Remember your oath. Remember your task. Finding the Heartblood is only the first flight. Now you must help him succeed in his purpose.

  Doesn't look like Tal needs any help.

  We saved him. The Singer's words were sharp with reprimand. Without our aid, he would have descended into depths from which there is no return, not even for my kind. Hold to that. Your purpose may be to support his task, but it is essential all the same.

  Garin tried clinging to his resentment, but found it difficult in the face of Ilvuan's assertions. Fine.

  With that, the dragon disappeared like mist burning away before sunlight.

  He mulled over the words after he had gone. Jenduit. Mender. For a name meant to describe his nature, it did a poor job of it. He had not mended anything where he traveled; if anything, he had ever left things more broken. The cursed amulet in the Ruins of Erlodan; stabbing Kaleras in the Coral Castle courtyard; nearly killing Wren and Aelyn in the confrontation with the first Extinguished.

  And in Elendol, what had the Queen said to him? You have a black path to walk. Queen Geminia had possessed true premonitions. If anyone could know his fate, it was her.

  Mender. Garin shook his head as he rose from his bedroll and exited the shelter.