The Copper Crown

by Patricia Kennealy-Morrison

  "Let be," she said. "Where is Gwydion?"

  "Here, Aeronwy." He came forward, his face unreadable to any save perhaps her alone.

  "Order your battle, First Lord of War. Now comes the fior-comlainn."

  *

  Long minutes' pause; then, outside, beyond the sudden quiet, the slow tide of the enemy advance began to beat again to Caerdroia's walls; in full flood, for this time Jaun Akhera held nothing back.

  But those walls had been raised long ago, by Gradlon himself, he who had been Brendan's master-builder, and more than stone had gone into their making. Not easily do walls crumble that magic itself has mortared.

  Behind the rising dust, the sun climbed to the top of its low arc and began to fall redly down, and still the battle raged. Like a tall tree in a windy wood, Gwydion stood watching the battle as Keltia fought for its life.

  He turned presently to Struan, who stood by. "How much longer can the walls hold, Cameron?"

  "I am a better judge of battle ahorse, Pendragon. The walls, I think, will hold forever; it is those who hold them will not endure so long."

  "What do you counsel?"

  "Cavalry does little good within walls; I say we ride out while yet we can."

  "A sortie? We shall have to open all the gates, not just the Wolf Gate alone... But true it is they will not expect such a move."

  Struan nodded. "And since they no longer have horse of their own to call upon for a counter, they will be hard put indeed to hold us off. But it is still a desperate tactic."

  "What tactic might that be?" Aeron had come up behind them while they talked. Neither man had seen her since the moments after the dawn parley with Jaun Akhera; and in fact she had fought all day upon the walls. But now, even after the day's fighting, she looked her old self again, bright-faced in spite of the dust and blood that streaked her cheek. Morwen and Desmond were with her.

  Gwydion explained, and she nodded.

  "I agree," she said at once. "We must send them out, and we must close the gates behind them. It is in my heart that the City will fall by this time tomorrow"--she impatiently waved off their protests--"and when that shall be, I want as many warriors as possible outside the walls. Trapped within, they can do nothing but be slaughtered; outside, they can flee off-planet to join the fleet, or regroup in the south or on the secured planets to form a resistance. And therefore the commanders will ride with them."

  Struan smiled. "You learn quickly the ways of war, Ard-rian."

  "That's as may be--but we must take some thought now for ourselves. Desmond, you are to take O'Reilly at once to the convent of Glassary on Vannin. And do you not return to Tara--nay, argue not, this is not the whim of your cousin but the command of your Queen. When you have seen Sorcha safely there, Desmond, you will then join Rohan on the Firedrake and tell him all that has happened here." She turned to Morwen. "What of the rest of the righ-domhna?"

  "All save Desmond and you are now safe away, either off-world or in sanctuary in the far south and east, or in the Kyles of Ra. Rioghnach and Niall were the last to leave, she protesting bitterly, I might add; I think they have gone to Kieran on Caledon."

  "It is well, then." Aeron sighed, then took Morwen's hand and Gwydion's in her own. "We shall stay, we three; that is fitting. Oh, my most beloved," she said, all her love for them plain in voice and face, "whatever the dawn may bring or the day may take, yet it cannot alter this."

  *

  The short winter dusk had long since given way to dark; the Imperial troops had withdrawn from the City walls, and again there was heated conference in Jaun Akhera's tent.

  "You have little choice, lord!" said Hanno passionately. "If they succeed in rallying for a sortie, we are lost, as we no longer have Fomor's cavalry to offset their horse and chariotry. And if Rohan succeeds in breaking through with their fleet to reinforce them from space, we are doubly lost. You must take the City with them still trapped within."

  "And how do you propose we do so, Captain-General?" snapped Jaun Akhera. "Eight days, and still they hold us off. Even the siege guns cannot blast through those walls; when we can use them, even--there is so much mist and fog and cloud about, the lasers are useless more than half the time."

  "I know a way would open the Wolf Gate in five minutes, and mists be damned."

  They turned as one, astonished, for the voice had been Arianeira's. She came forward now into the lamplight, smiling slightly.

  Jaun Akhera ran a hand over his face, spoke with curtness. "What way is this, lady?"

  "Magic. It is your last chance against Aeron. She would never use it against you; therefore must you use it against her."

  "Aeron's reasons for keeping her hand from magic are the same as mine," said Jaun Akhera doubtfully. "Or so Irin Mage, chief priest of my order, warned me before I left Alphor. Who first uses magic will fall in the end."

  "Superstition," said Arianeira. "Words and superstition--do they breed magicians on Alphor, or frightened children?" She saw how her derision rocked them; now must she call upon every ounce of guile and trickery and power to sway that she possessed, or could summon up... "Did not I myself use sorcery to breach the Curtain Wall so that you might enter? If that law had been a true one, we should have been defeated utterly long ere now. And I suffered nothing for my use of power; indeed, the spell I made use of at Murias station was Aeron's own, the very one she wielded against Bellator. Or is it that you are not so strong a sorcerer as has been commonly held?"

  She saw Jaun Akhera's golden eyes flicker, thought to herself behind deep shields, Ah, that's touched you fair, Cabiri... She continued suavely, "When your lord grandsir hears how you hesitated, will he praise your prudence in the use of your art? Or will he see only that you might have taken Caerdroia, and did not--because you feared to match spells with Aeron! Is your power so much less than hers--so much less than mine, even that you dare not chance the hazard?"

  The silence in the tent was absolute. Jaun Akhera stood motionless; Hanno stared at the scarred ivory tabletop; Garallaz and Sanchoniathon glanced at each other quickly and then away again; and Arianeira held her entire being to utter stillness lest some stray thought give the lie to that which she had said, and kill stillborn this last desperate strategy of hers to atone...

  Then the tension broke, as Jaun Akhera raised his eyes to Arianeira's white face.

  "What is magic," he said through his teeth, "but another weapon to my hand?"

  *

  Before the next day's sun was full risen, the Wolf Gate swung open for the first time in nine nights. Out beneath the vast stone arches, as was happening at the same moment at all the city gates, silently poured the Keltic cavalry, and most of the foot also; for Gwydion had emptied Caerdroia to make this final throw, and the walls were now nearly undefended.

  Though in truth that mattered little, thought Aeron. If the sortie prevailed, the City would stand, and a defense would not be needed; and if the sortie failed and the City fell, a defense would not be needed still more...

  As the Gate closed behind the last of the horse, Aeron stood alone in the wide stone-paved square behind the gate-pillars. Not entirely alone even so, for around her were the Fians Gwydion had set to guard her if the worst should indeed befall, but she paid no heed to them. Caerdroia, as she had said so long ago to Haruko, was not Keltia; and, no matter what Jaun Akhera might think, nor was the Ard-rian Keltia either...

  She caught the trace of something, like a faint quick scent on the wind, and turned, frowning, to quest after it.

  "What is it?" Gwydion had come down from the Gate parapet to join her, and noted her expression.

  "I am not sure. Something strange--it has gone now."

  "We carry the day out upon Moycathra; come and see for yourself." He took her arm to lead her up through the gatehouse to the tower stairs, but she pulled away from him, and now her head came up like a hound's at a whistle no human can hear, and fear was in her face.

  "Stand clear, all you, of the Gate!"

 
Gwydion dragged her to one side, throwing himself after, for he too had now felt what she had earlier sensed: the beginnings of Jaun Akhera's magic.

  "There is sorcery afoot--"

  Over the battle's noise came a deep rumble that rose to a deafening roar. Above their heads, the findruinna of the Gate glowed briefly red, then blinding white, then burst apart in a shower of metal and stone. Aeron was flung backwards by the force of explosion and spell alike, for there had been time to prepare for neither. But her sword still hung at her side, and as the Imperial van began to pour like water through the breach, she struggled to her feet and reached to draw it from the sheath.

  But the weapon jammed in the scabbard, and before she could tug it free she was surrounded by Coranians of Jaun Akhera's personal guard. Though by their lord's order they laid no hand upon her, a score of swords were levelled at her, and she took her own hand off her sword-hilt. In the empty space where the Gate had been she saw Gwydion fighting like a tiger with more Coranians. He had managed to cut down not a few of them already, but even as she watched he was overwhelmed by sheer numbers. Morwen she could not see at all.

  Aeron returned her attention to the ruin of the Gate, as the guards opened an aisle among the dead and dying Fians, and Jaun Akhera strode between them into the City. He was on foot, and bareheaded, his sword sheathed at his side, and when he saw her, he halted.

  Aeron said no word, but very deliberately touched her arm where a shard of flying metal had struck her near the shoulder. Her hand came away wet, and, still with that same formal air, her eyes holding Jaun Akhera's, she placed her palm to the stone of the gate-pillar, leaving a clear red print upon the granite.

  Only then did she speak. "So I said."

  "So, indeed, you said," he echoed, as shaken as he was triumphant. He looked past her then, to where his soldiers were ranging out to secure the strong points within Caerdroia, then back over his shoulder, where out on the plain the fight still raged.

  "You have not won, Prince of Alphor," said Aeron, noting the direction of his glance. "True it is you have taken the City, but the most part of my forces are out there"--she pointed--"by the grace of the gods and the wisdom of my war-leaders. When they see the City is fallen, they will flee by my order, to save themselves and keep the fight alive. But that is only part of it... I said some days ago--though you were not there to hear me, and he who was is now slain--that whoever first resorted to magic in this quarrel would lose in the end. You who are a Cabiri doubtless received a similar warning, and though I know not who persuaded you to ignore it, I owe that one my thanks that you did so. For so have you ensured your own defeat; whatever may happen to me, Keltia shall be victorious in the end. I would endure much for that assurance."

  Jaun Akhera had remained silent all through her speech, but his gold eyes had never left her green ones. Now he gestured, and his soldiers dragged Gwydion over to join them, and from another side of the square Morwen was escorted under guard. Jaun Akhera looked at each of them in turn.

  "Escort these to the palace," he said to the captain of his guard. "See that they are kept close, and apart from each other. They may remain in their own chambers, if they wish, so long you first remove any weapons and other toys; and so long as I have your word, Aeron, that those rooms contain no hidden ways of escape?"

  Aeron smiled, and laid her open hand over her heart to honor the oath. "Not my chambers, nor the Prince of Don's, nor the Duchess of Lochcarron's, contain any such. Hear me, gods."

  Beside her, Gwydion seemed about to protest. She signalled him quickly in bardic finger language to desist--she dared not use even tight-focus telepathy with a Cabiri adept intent upon her--and he relaxed into the icy composure she knew masked fury. Behind Jaun Akhera, Arianeira had ridden up, still on her white stallion. She smiled as if she too knew, but Aeron did not even glance in her direction.

  "Have we Your Highness's leave to go?" she snapped. "We are all of us very weary, and my arm pains me."

  "Prisoners ask not; rather are they told," he replied evenly. "But you may go indeed, and I shall send medics to attend each of you." As she turned away, with the guards closing in around her, "You do not make this easy, Aeron, for any of us."

  "Ah well," she said. "Hard it is to get wool from a fish."

  *

  "What is it, Arianeira? Come in, and welcome."

  Arianeira curtsied, the merest swirl of skirt, and entered the great state salon which Jaun Akhera had appropriated as his own personal quarters. It was the evening of the day after the fall of Caerdroia, and this was the first chance she had had for a completely private word with him.

  After she had seated herself in a silk-upholstered chair and accepted a cup of wine, she smiled at him with all the old charm.

  "Now that you have had time to consider at your leisure, lord, I would ask your intentions toward your royal prisoners. They are, after all, my near kin."

  Jaun Akhera leaned back in his chair, his eyes as bright as the gold goblet in his hand.

  "That is largely up to you, Highness," he said presently. "What would you?"

  "I would be Regent in Keltia as you promised, lord, and that should I be a good deal easier if I knew that Aeron and Gwydion and Morwen yet lived."

  "You who demanded their heads would now plead for their lives?" He was astonished, though secretly pleased. "I would be the last to deny their usefulness alive, and have been delaying their executions out of just such a hope, but they themselves have left me little choice. But if you think, Arianeira, that you can convince them otherwise, you have my full leave to try. Indeed, haven't you already spoken with your brother?"

  She grimaced. "I have, and little good it did either of us... But I think I may have more success with the three of them together, if such is acceptable to you. Also I would have them brought to the Hall of Heroes, and speak to them there; the sight of the Throne of Scone might induce in Aeron a proper attitude of resignation."

  Jaun Akhera laughed. "Somehow I doubt that," he said. "But by all means do as you think best. You know her, and the others, far better than do I. You are not softening, are you?" he added.

  "Not likely... Time was I would have liked to see their deaths, even my own brother's, but now perhaps I see things otherwise."

  "I am glad of it," said Jaun Akhera honestly. "Those three are certainly of far greater value to me alive, and it would have gone hard to slay such worthy foes--though I should of course have honored my word to you... had you insisted."

  "Would you indeed?" she murmured. "Well, I do not ask that now. Only let you send guards to conduct them to the Hall of Heroes. I shall await them there within the hour."

  *

  Aeron paced up and down her chamber, heedless of the guards at the door and outside upon the turret walk. She had not slept an hour since the fall of Caerdroia, and had barely ceased her pacing either. Now she knew how a mewed hawk must feel...

  Still, she had managed to do all she could have done. The armies were dispersed as effectively as might be. The Terrans and the rest of the royal family were safely away. The Copper Crown was safe with the Sidhe, and the crown jewels had been hidden beyond anyone's power to discover, the scepter and other royal regalia with them. The records of state were inaccessible to anyone who lacked the Great Seal of Keltia, and she had in the last hour before the sortie attended to the Seal herself... It remained only for her to string herself to face whatever fate Jaun Akhera might decree--and of the many possibilities, death was by far the most preferable, since it alone held no terror of the unknown.

  She did not look round as a small stir came at the door.

  "Majesty?"

  At that she did turn. Sanchoniathon, brother of Jaun Akhera, stood in the doorway.

  He was smaller and slighter than his brother, much of a height and build with Aeron herself, with the dark beauty and amber eyes of all his family; and he so plainly hated having to be there, performing so distasteful a duty, that Aeron nearly laughed. But--

  "M
y lord," she acknowledged gravely.

  "You are to come to the Hall of Heroes, Majesty. The Prince of Don also, and Her Grace of Lochcarron."

  "Whyfor? Has your brother something further to say to us?"

  "I know nothing about that, madam." His expression as he looked at her was so openly admiring as to verge on the disrespectful; he had chided his brother for allowing himself to become infatuated with the Keltic queen, and never knew that he himself had done exactly the same. "I suggest you put on a warm cloak," he said, recollecting himself to the purpose for which he had been sent. "The weather has turned bitter cold in the past few hours."

  "You and your brother are marvelous careful of my well-being: He sends medics to tend my battle scratches, you remind me to wear a cloak."

  He said nothing, but watched her take a plain green cloak from a peg and buckle it at her throat.

  "Well, my lord Sancho," she said with a smile, and he started at her use of the family nickname. "Shall we go, then?"

  Chapter Twenty-five

  It was different from the last time Aeron had been in the Hall of Heroes, and not since the days of the Theocracy had any reigning monarch of the Six Nations been brought there as a prisoner under guard.

  Sanchoniathon and his escort had not accompanied her beyond the doors of the Keep, but had there delivered her into the hands of a company of Jaun Akhera's personal troops. Morwen and Gwydion, similarly attended, were already there, and upon her arrival all three were escorted into the Hall.

  As she paced the length of the vast chamber, Aeron found her thought flying unerringly back to the day the Terrans had come: the Hall filled with friends, she seated crowned upon the Throne of Scone, and coming toward her down the Hall's center aisle Haruko and O'Reilly and the rest...