Asunder

by Tanya Schofield

  “Melody.” Jovan reached for her hands and took them in his own, wishing the words came as easily to him as they had for Kaeliph. He was been a fool, a stubborn stupid angry fool. “Forgive me?”

  Melody gifted him with a small, sleepy smile that was equally heartbreaking and sad. She pulled one of her hands free of his grasp and touched his cheek with butterfly-light fingers. He could feel unthinkable heat radiating from her as Melody trailed her hand down, tracing the line of his jaw.

  “I wish you were real,” she whispered, but no power lashed out with the sound of her voice this time. “I wish this was real.”

  Jovan searched her face for explanation, but there were only her shining red-gold eyes, still liquid with unshed tears. He looked at her then, really looked, and his heartbeat quickened. Her appearance had finally stopped changing, settling on wild, unfamiliar red curls that brushed her shoulders. Her skirt was dark with dirt and inexpertly cut short, and her arm— more blood, old and new, and the white of the bone glistened through the raw flesh.

  Jovan stood. “Melody? What happened?” Dream or not, there was real alarm in his voice.

  She pulled away from him and stood, her tiny smile gone. She looked down at the horrific wound as if she were seeing it for the first time, and her brow furrowed.

  “I … it hurts.” There was curiosity in her voice, but no surge of power.

  “What did this?” he asked, lifting her chin to make her look at him instead of the horrific wound. She felt … thin, to his touch, almost insubstantial. In spite of that, though, he could still feel the heat radiating from her.

  “Pike.” Melody’s voice was barely audible, and she was suddenly unsteady on her feet.

  Rhodoban appeared at Jovan’s shoulder.

  “Her dream is fading,” the mage said, “we must be quick. Melody, please - the twins …”

  The girl blinked at Rhodoban, nodding and swaying slowly as she struggled to stay focused.

  Jovan squeezed her hands and cradled her heated cheek in his palm, keeping his voice low and steady. “Where are the twins, Melody? Where are the children?”

  “Lianodel,” she breathed. She looked around as if she were suddenly uncertain of where she was.

  Rhodoban nearly wept with relief. She had done it, she had delivered them as he and Aellielle had prayed she would. “You are with her, then?” he asked.

  Jovan looked again at her arm, the gruesome sight of bone shining through flesh. “She is tending your wounds?”

  Melody shook her head slowly, and nearly flickered out of view. Jovan felt her hands disappear and return in his grasp.

  “No, not for days.” Her voice was no more than a breath.

  He squeezed more tightly on her fingers, as if he could hold her in place. “Don’t wake up yet, Melody. Stay with me. Where are you?” Jovan took a step closer despite the heat coming off of her in waves, as if by his nearness he could keep her with him. “Melody? Tell us. We’ll come to you.”

  She blinked up at him, becoming progressively less solid. She freed one hand from his grasp and touched him again, trailing her fingers from his eyebrow to his jaw and along the rough side of his face, still smiling her insubstantial smile.

  “Where are you?” he whispered, searching her face.

  “I don’t know.” She vanished, leaving her dream, and without her the clearing they were in vanished as well.

  Jovan jerked awake, rolling to his knees in almost the same instant as Rhodoban. Together they rose, their eyes meeting over the coals of the previous night’s fire, and in unspoken agreement they moved away from the rest of the sleeping men.

  “Is that where she is?” Jovan asked quietly. “In that clearing?”

  Rhodoban shook his head. “I wish it were so, but no. That is simply where she dreams. She could be anywhere. I only hope that she is not alone, that someone is tending her.”

  Jovan paced for a moment, running fingers through hair he kept expecting to be long. “Her arm … was that real? Is she hurt?”

  Rhodoban thought for a moment. “More than likely. There’s no telling when she was injured, though. Dreams aren’t always bound by reality.”

  Jovan said nothing, looking out over the rushing water. They were a day’s travel outside of Ravenglass, a town he’d never been in despite claiming it as Steel’s birthplace. According to Calder, they were just under a week’s travel away from the Elven city.

  The ranger had proven himself more than useful, getting them under the Moon River through a long abandoned smuggler’s tunnel. They encountered no resistance, but more than a day’s travel underground was nothing any of them wanted to do again. Not that they could.

  To keep any of nightmare creatures from following them into the tunnel, they’d spent considerable time rearranging the rubble from an earlier cave in at one end, and Rhodoban had used magic to melt the rocks together. There was no going back.

  Now they were heading southeast along the Deep River into the mountains, traveling in hopes that Rhodoban’s hunch about his children was correct— and Melody had just confirmed it was.

  Korith was still a concern, the men had agreed before they left for the Deep Woods, but with the Porthold gates closed, there was little chance of getting to him. They would stop in the towns between them and Silmirra, they decided, perhaps finding others willing to join against the Duke who would be King - and find them they had. There were maybe twenty five men camped by the fire now, all of them well aware of the consequences of Korith’s policies, all of them in agreement that they would lend their support to Duke Thordike in Estfall when Rhodoban had been reunited with his children.

  “I should try to find Melody,” Jovan finally said. “Your business is with your children, though, I cannot ask you to forsake them for this. We will accompany you to Silmirra first.”

  Rhodoban, too, looked out over the water. “I fear if we don’t find her, there will be no place for my children in this world.” He didn’t want to think of such a thing.

  Jovan rubbed the back of his neck. “You believe your children are safe, friend?”

  “There is no doubt in my mind,” Rhodoban replied. “They are safer with Lianodel than with any of us, although— without Melody, who can say how long Silmirra will remain untouched?”

  “Then we go.”

  “Where do we begin to look?” Rhodoban asked. “Her dream was no help, I fear.”

  “Wake the others. Tell them we’ll move out soon.” Jovan’s eyes were distant, but no longer hard and cold when he thought of Melody. “I will follow in a moment, and tell you where.”

  Rhodoban inclined his head and went to do as he was bid, leaving Steel Rygus – or was he Jovan, this morning? – there by the riverside.

  Jovan took a seat on a nearby boulder. “Where are you?” he whispered, his stomach tight. He had not consciously reached for her since they had first arrived in Foley. Whatever had passed between them tonight may only be a dream to her … it may only be a dream to him, for that matter, but something had changed.

  He couldn’t shake the memory of feeling Kaeliph’s heart slowing, and stopping. He closed his eyes and breathed deeply, trying to center himself. It was easier to think about Melody than that sadness, easier to concentrate on her eyes, her scent, her smile. Breathe. Focus. Show me. Breathe. Focus. Where are you? Breathe. Focus.

  The images were faint and wavering. Trees, water. A man and a knife. A beast, blood, and another man. He spoke… “across the river - Gira. I’ll get you there.”

  Calder would know the name, he was sure. Jovan breathed a silent prayer of thanks, and stood to tell the men they were going to Gira.

  27

  “Enter.”

  Simon, the steward, opened the door and immediately looked away with a polite cough while his Lord and Lady shared a lingering kiss. He only brought his eyes back to the couple at the sound of Lady Marina’s light laughter.

  She moved off of Duke Thordike’s ample lap with a mischievous grin for the steward
and smoothed her skirts, her eyes twinkling almost as much as the Duke’s.

  “Yes, Simon?” The Duke smoothed his mustache and reached for his wife’s hand at his shoulder. She placed her hand in his, her long graceful fingers nearly swallowed in his plump grip.

  Simon managed to keep the smile from his own lips.

  “My apologies for the interruption, my Lord, but there are visitors. Duke Korith and the Lady Bethcelamin have arrived.”

  Donnel Thordike nodded, unsurprised. “A bit sooner than I expected. They are alone?”

  “There are a number of soldiers outside, but yours are with them, and I am assured the visit is a peaceful one. The Duke and Duchess are waiting in the sitting room, my Lord. ”

  “They can rot there, as far as I am concerned.” Lady Marina’s smile had disappeared. “You expected them?”

  Thordike smiled at his wife’s uncharacteristic hostility, patting her hand. “Be easy, my darling. There was a messenger yesterday, I planned to speak with you this evening. There may yet be a perfectly good reason for this unexpected visit.”

  Marina rolled her eyes. “That man has many reasons for his actions, my husband, but I doubt good is the basis of any of them.”

  Thordike motioned to the steward. “Show our guests to the dining room, Simon, and see if you can’t get the kitchen to speed up the evening meal, won’t you? Nothing brightens a gathering of friends better than a good meal, wouldn’t you say?”

  Marina glared at her husband as the steward bowed from the room. “These people are our friends now, are they? Did you invite them?”

  The Duke stood, and beamed at his delightfully irritated wife. “Of course not. But what benefit is there in assuming the worst, my beloved? Some good may come of this, in the end.”

  Marina let him wrap her in an affectionate embrace before he took her hand again for the walk to the dining room, but she had not surrendered.

  “There is enormous value in being cautious, Donnel,” she continued. “Have you completely forgotten the attempts on your life? Because I have not.”

  “Marina, sweetest …” He squeezed her hand in comfort.

  “The man will do anything to be king, husband, and you oppose him. He is no friend.” She kept her voice quiet, but her emotions rode the surface of her words.

  “There was never proof of Korith’s involvement in those attempts,” Thordike reminded her. ”Both of which failed, obviously, as evidenced by my not being dead.”

  His wife snorted indelicately. “You know as well as I do—“

  Thordike pulled her to a stop some distance before the dining room entrance. “Yes, my love. I do.” His voice was a gentle whisper, and his face was a serious, loving smile. “Just as you know everything I do about what is happening beyond our borders, and what position that puts me in. We will speak after dinner, my love. There are reasons he would come here that don’t involve his foolish campaign to be King.”

  “I don’t like it, Donnel.”

  “You also know that Jayden Korith is at heart a coward, and he would never personally make a move against me in our home. Please, Marina, have patience. Trust me.”

  Her protective anger melted away, and she threw her arms around her husband’s neck. “Oh, Donnel. I do, I do trust you.” She looked into his eyes, earnest. “It’s him I don’t trust.”

  Thordike kissed the tip of her delectable nose. “Of course you don’t, because you are a rare, intelligent woman that I am proud to have at my side. I don’t trust the man either, but neither do I fear him. So let us hear what he has to say, hmmm?”

  Marina nodded. “Keep your enemies close?”

  “The better to control them. Exactly.” He could not resist another kiss before continuing towards the dining room door, and once she had returned it thoroughly, Marina adopted a polite, political expression.

  “Welcome, friends, welcome.” Thordike entered with a wide smile, and stepped forward to shake Korith’s hand and drop a low bow to the Lady Bethcelamin.

  Marina marveled at how her husband, as usual, remained jovial and gracious – even in the face of a man like Jayden Korith. He was the better host, she admitted to herself. All she wanted to do was physically slap the smug arrogance from that horrible little man’s face. Instead, Marina focused her attention on Korith’s wife, who looked with longing at the seats around the table.

  Duke Thordike noticed as well. “Please, let us sit down. Simon is arranging for refreshments, and in due time we will hear what brings you so far from Epidii.” Donnel held a chair first for Lady Bethcelamin, and then for his own wife before taking his place at the head of the table.

  Korith began to speak. “We have traveled here to—“

  Thordike raised a hand, silencing the visiting Duke as Simon returned with a tray of goblets. “In due time,” he said again.

  Korith waited with mounting impatience until the wine was served and the steward had bowed out at his Lord’s smiling dismissal before continuing.

  Jayden was anything but smiling. “Duke Thordike. We have come here to offer our aid in—"

  Somewhere close by a door slammed, and Thordike halted Korith’s well-rehearsed speech for the second time. The sound of running feet and breathless shrieks of laughter approached the dining room, and Korith felt the old familiar ache begin to throb behind his eyes. Children crested through the door like a wave in a tangle of arms and legs, skidding to a halt when they found the room occupied.

  Marina covered her smile with a polite hand, her eyes sparkling at the sight of her family.

  “Father.” The oldest boy spoke, straightening up immediately and elbowing his closest sibling into doing the same. The elbow was passed through the ranks until all five children stood in a line, doing their best to appear presentable. “I’m sorry, we didn’t realize you had guests.”

  “Yes you did,” said the smallest, a girl with huge dark eyes and a dirt-smudged dress. “You said there were strangers and we should- ow!”

  Her older sister had reached around what looked to be a pair of twins to yank roughly on the girl’s braid, glaring over their brothers. Remembering her manners, the little one rubbed her sore head and dropped a brief, clumsy curtsey. “I mean h’llo.”

  “Children, welcome.” Donnel Thordike addressed his wayward brood, doing his best to appear stern. In return, they did their best to appear contrite. “Duke Korith, Lady Bethcelamin … please, allow me to introduce my children, who should know far better than to behave in such a manner.”

  All five children tried to stand up straighter, the youngest girl was practically bent over backwards as far as she had puffed out her chest to show how well behaved she could be. Bethcelamin caught Marina’s eyes at the sight and she too, had to cover a smile.

  “The oldest is Arik, he is twelve years of age...”

  The oldest boy bowed graciously. “Greetings.”

  “Then there is Sophie, she will be ten in mere weeks but seems to think she’s twenty or so...”

  Sophie’s smudged cheek dimpled prettily when she smiled and curtsied, and her ribboned curls bobbed. “It’s a pleasure to meet you,” she said in her most grown-up tone, smoothing her skirt in a near perfect mimic of her mother.

  “The twins are eight – that’s Christoph on the left, and Belor is on the right.”

  The boys snickered, and rather than have their father be wrong, they stepped around each other until his introduction was correct. Each of them bowed slightly.

  “And that little scrap of a thing is Elee, she just turned five.”

  Elee curtsied again, but she had eyes only for the door. One plump finger found it’s way into her hair to twirl restlessly. Her mother, as usual, rescued her.

  “Children, you go ahead down to the kitchens, now. I’m sure Nan can find you something to eat before bed. I will be looking in on you, so you’d best have washed the courtyard off your faces by nightfall.”

  All five of the children bowed or curtsied a quick farewell, then promptly tripp
ed over each other to be the first out the door.

  “Oh, they’re lovely,” Bethcelamin said, watching the door close behind them.

  Marina smiled at the compliment, and her husband puffed with pride. She remembered, though, that Korith and his wife had recently lost their only son, and tried to avoid any discomfort.

  “They are a handful at times, to be sure. I do apologize for the interruption, Duke Korith. Please, go on?”

  Jayden took a deep breath. This was not going as he had planned, not at all. The sight of the children would surely undo his wife. How was he to manage her outbursts in this place?

  “As I was saying, Duke Thordike, I have traveled here to offer my support, and the support of what troops are at my disposal in this dark and desperate time.”

  Donnel raised his eyebrow along with his goblet. He toasted his wife as he always did, then his guests.

  “Such seriousness so soon, Duke? Should we not discuss the weather this time of year, or the safety of trade routes, or the difficulty in finding a good barrel of ale?”

  Marina kept her smile to herself, impossibly proud of her husband. He made himself out to be such a simple man that it was far too easy to underestimate him— which Korith clearly did. She took a small sip of her wine, catching the eye of Lady Bethcelamin. The woman looked away almost immediately. She was too pale, Marina thought. Perhaps the sight of the children had been too much for her.

  “By the Lich, Thordike, have you no idea what—"

  Thordike raised his hand to silence Korith for a third time when Simon entered again with several other servants, all bearing trays heaped high with food.

  Korith bit off his tirade and fumed at this latest interruption, making no secret of his displeasure. Bethcelamin looked decidedly uncomfortable beside him, but Donnel Thordike continued to beam, watching with a wide smile as the table and plates were loaded with food. When he spoke, however, his tone was serious.

  “I assure you, Duke Korith, you are quite safe from all things dark and desperate in these halls. I will take offense if you disturb my dinner with unpleasantries that can – and will - wait until the ladies have retired.”