Epic Of Palins 01 - Dagger Star (31 page)

The command tent had its sides rolled up. Gloriana stepped onto the platform, where two men were waiting. One was a tall, handsome black man, with black hair and dark eyes. The other was seated, an extraordinarily fat man wearing a silk robe that swirled with color.

“High Baron Carell, let me make you known to Gloriana,” Evie was saying.

“Chosen?” The black man stood, his expression puzzled.

Gloriana stepped forward, and smiled. “The Chosen Heir, Lord Carell.”

The fat man snorted. The black man gave him a frown, then smiled at Gloriana. “A pleasure, Chosen.”

Gloriana gestured. “Please, be seated. Have you been offered food? Wine?”

“We have, girl. Not up to the standards of Athelbryght, that is certain,” rumbled the fat man.

“Athelbryght will recover.” Evelyn spoke calmly, but Gloriana could tell she was irritated.

“Gloriana, this is Lord Mage Marlon.”

“Lord Mage.” Gloriana inclined her head.

Marlon sniffed. “You have the bearing, chit, I give you that.”

“And manners,” Evelyn snapped. “Are you so far gone that you can’t rise to an introduction?”

Arent spoke as she aided Vembar into a chair. “The chair would no doubt collapse when he plopped back down.”

Lord Carell grabbed a cup and quickly brought it to his mouth. Gloriana was certain he was hiding a grin.

Marlon barked out a laugh. “Still as pleasant as ever, Arent.”

“What brings you from your hedonistic pursuits?” Vembar asked. “I thought you’d retired to while away your days in debauchery and sloth.”

“This chit.” Marlon jerked his head toward Evelyn. “With a wild tale of a prophecy come to pass. Nonsense, of course. An old wives’ tale, told to drunks and fools. Believed only by the very stupid or the insane.”

Aunt Evie pressed her lips together.

Marlon frowned at her. “Now I come to find out that Josiah lives, after five long years of mourning him.”

Aunt Evie flushed. “There were reasons, good re—”

“Pfui.” Marlon scowled at her. “And the so-called Chosen is missing—”

“And your scrying skills would be most useful,” Aunt Evie snapped. Gloriana looked at her in astonishment. Aunt Evie’s cheeks were spots of red, and she was angry. “I’ll have a bowl brought and—”

“I’ve my own supplies at my worktable,” Marlon snapped back. “No need to drag me into the Gods-forsaken wilderness with naught but well water and poor wine. What—”

A shout went up, and they all turned to look. A rider was coming fast. In mere moments, he pulled his horse to a stop before the platform. “Lady High Priestess,” he gasped, “they’re coming, the Chosen and some others. They are coming behind me. We met them on the road and escorted them back.”

“Red Gloves is alive?” Evie asked, and Gloriana felt like her head would burst in the seconds before the scout answered. Relief flooded through her, right down to her toes, when he nodded.

“Aye, High Priestess.” The man grinned. “Worse for wear, but alive.”

“My thanks.” Aunt Evie’s voice regained some of its calm. She stood, her hands folded into the sleeves of her robe. A flash of disappointment passed over Vembar’s face, but then he, too, looked pleased.

Gloriana watched as the group approached, surrounded by the escort sent to find them. Red was there, at the front, as was Josiah. But there were fewer men, and where had the pigs come from?

She frowned, and stood to watch as the horses came to a stop before the platform.

“Impressive,” Lord Carell said under his breath.

Gloriana winced inside, but kept her face schooled. They looked tired and worn. She frowned, trying to see who was missing. Where was Auxter? Was that a cat on the back of Lady Bethral’s horse? Ezren Storyteller had a child on the saddle before him. There was a woman she didn’t know, and a boy on a horse, holding a small girl.

The boy glanced her way, through hair that fell over his face. The little girl in his arms shifted and yawned, and the boy looked down and smiled at his burden. He had deep dimples in each cheek. He lifted his head, and Gloriana was caught by his eyes.

In the midst of the chaos, she couldn’t help but smile back.

EVELYN’S stomach settled down as Red Gloves rode into view with the others. She stepped forward, and watched as Red dismounted. “We thought you were dead.”

Ezren Storyteller gave her a shadowed look. “We were.”

“Later.” Red’s voice was a growl. “We’ll deal with that later.”

Arent moved up to stand next to Evelyn. She scanned the group of men and horses. “What has happened? Where is—”

Oris moved from out of the crowd. “Lady Arent.”

Evelyn glanced over as Arent drew in a breath with a hiss. Oris was kneeling before her, a broken staff in his upraised hands. “Auxter is dead.”

The entire group went silent.

Arent reached out trembling hands, and took the broken pieces from Oris. Gloriana moved forward to stand at Arent’s side, her eyes brimming with tears.

Evelyn put her hand on Arent’s shoulder, offering comfort. Arent stood silent for just a moment, then she turned to look at Evelyn. “We will mourn him when this is done. Not before.”

“Agreed,” Red said, and the rest nodded.

“I thank you, Oris.” Arent’s voice was clear. “No easy task, to bear this news.” She held the staff close to her breast.

“I live to serve, Lady.” Oris rose to his feet, then swayed. Josiah reached out to steady him.

“Food.” Arent stepped off the platform. “You need food and drink. Gloriana and I will see to it.”

She strode off toward the cooking tents, calling out to some of the men in the distance. Gloriana followed, swallowing her tears.

“What happened?” Evelyn asked as the others began to dismount. Josiah slid from his horse, and reached up to take the child from Ezren so that he could dismount.

Red spat in the dirt. “The details can wait, but we were betrayed.”

“Not by me.” Lord Carell stepped to the edge of the platform. “I’ve had no dealings with the Regent since the fool tried to tax my trade. I’d be damned before I’d give him money, men, or information. Fool doesn’t understand that there’s a free port just up the coast, and I’ll lose the flow of commerce through my lands.”

Josiah handed the child back to Ezren. He turned to look at Carell with a grin. “Learning wisdom in your elder days?”

“Elder days?” Carell scoffed. “Who has the gray in his hair, old man?”

They stood and stared at each other for a moment, then broke into laughter. Lord Carell jumped off the platform and caught Josiah up in a hug, pounding his back. “Josiah of Athelbryght! I never thought to see you again, my friend.”

Josiah pounded Carell’s back. “Or I, you.”

Red stepped onto the platform. “If you’re done, we’ve work to do.” She ran her gloved fingers through her hair. “Oris, if you’d see to Larrisa and the children. Get them set up in a tent for the moment. And for love of the Twelve, do something with the pigs.”

Josiah and Carell stepped back, still grinning like loons. Evelyn smiled, but then she spotted Marlon staring at Red’s gloves, opening his mouth, no doubt ready to launch one of his pithy comments. “Red,” she said, moving forward, hoping to avert disaster, “let me make you known to—”

Marlon turned toward her, a scowl on his face. But Evelyn was spared his wrath as his gaze moved over her shoulder, to focus behind her. “By your mother’s left tit!”

Evelyn glanced behind her, and saw Ezren standing there, a polite smile on his face.

“Aren’t you an insulting bastard,” Red snarled, stomping onto the wooden platform.

“Not really,” Evelyn replied, trying to figure out what had upset the man. “He is my father, after all.”

“Pfui,” Marlon snapped. “What daughter of mine consorts with wild magic?”

Evelyn raised an eyebrow. “Ezren is not—”

“Use the skills the Gods gave you, girl,” Marlon spat.

Evelyn snorted, but turned and whispered the words to activate her mage sight. She smiled reassuringly at Ezren, confident that—

Ezren glowed.

Evelyn jerked back instinctively at the sight of the raw, wild magic. Fear flooded through her.

“Storyteller, what happened to you?”

Ezren frowned. “Lady High Priestess, I—”

“What does it matter ‘how’?” Marlon demanded from his chair. “All that matters is that he has dared to violate the law concerning wild magic, and his life is forfeit. If you won’t do the honors, daughter mine, then I will.”

Evelyn jerked her head around. “Father—”

Marlon lifted his hand, and cut through the air with it, casting a spell toward Ezren.

“Father!” Evelyn protested, but it was too late. Ezren raised his hand to his throat, apparently unable to take a breath. “Father, stop,” Evelyn demanded. “We don’t know—”

Bethral pulled her mace and advanced on the fat man. “Release him, Wizard.”

Marlon growled at her. “Stay back, Warrior. This is none of your concern.”

Bethral took another step, and Evelyn feared the worst, but Red’s cry cut through the crowd.

“Josiah!”

Instantly, Josiah ran to Ezren’s side. Ezren flung his head back, sucking in a deep breath of air.

Marlon cursed.

Red folded her arms over her chest, and gave him a sardonic look. “Bad enough the enemy knows of us. Perhaps we should talk before we start killing one another.”

TWENTY-EIGHT

“FATHER , you can’t kill him,” Evelyn said. “We need him.”

They’d crowded onto the platform, lowered the cloth side of the tent, and set guards about to get as much privacy as they could. Bethral doubted that would be enough to stave off the curiosity, but it was an attempt. She’d put herself on one side of Ezren, mace in hand. High Mage or not, Marlon would not get another chance to bespell the Storyteller.

Not that she needed to worry while Josiah was seated close on Ezren’s other side. But she’d not take a chance, either way.

“What the hell is more important than killing a rogue mage?” Marlon growled.

Red glared as she unbuckled her armor, and displayed her breasts.

Marlon rolled his eyes. “Lovely. Evelyn, is this another one of your causes?”

Evelyn had two angry red spots on her cheeks, and wasn’t looking too pleased. “Father—”

“He’s a rogue and a danger to us all.” Marlon lifted his staff and shook it at Ezren. “Why didn’t you just kill yourself? That is what the guild teaches you to do, for the love of the Lord and the Lady. Don’t you remember your lessons?”

Ezren lifted his chin. “I beg your pardon, Lord High Mage, but I’ve never had lessons.”

“He’s not a mage, Father,” Evelyn said.

Marlon was speechless for a second, but he recovered fast. His eyes bulged and his jowls quivered as he roared, “An untrained rogue?”

Ezren shrugged.

Marlon rubbed his hand over his eyes. “I need a drink.”

Red glanced through a gap in the cloth. “It’s coming.”

“Not soon enough,” Marlon muttered. He shot a glare at Ezren. “Tell me what happened.”

Ezren looked down at the floor. Bethral couldn’t blame him, not wanting to relive the story. But he lifted his head and began to speak, his voice still harsh and rough.

Ezren started with the attack, with Red collapsing, and the warriors swarming over them. Bethral listened carefully, trying to figure out how they’d been overcome so easily, but Ezren lacked a warrior’s eye. He just knew they’d been captured and taken to the altar deep within the bog.

Bethral remembered nothing of the attack—nothing, really, until she awoke at the altar, alive and well. It saddened her that she didn’t know the details of Steel’s death, but she knew the great horse had died trying to protect her. She’d a lock of his mane, and would say her farewell to his spirit when the time was right.

Ezren’s recital ended with their awakening. His voice trailed off, and everyone sat quiet for a moment.

“You saw it?” Marlon was looking at Red. “You have no mage skill, yet you saw it?”

“I did.” Red nodded. “Like nothing I’ve ever seen. White and bright, like a thousand stars in a dense fog. I’d expected it to be hot, but it was more like….”

“Like what?” Marlon was genuinely curious.

“Joy,” Red answered, slightly embarrassed. “It left me breathless with a sense of joy and delight.”

“And it didn’t touch you?” Marlon pressed.

“No.” Red shook her head.

“But it touched you.” Marlon turned to Ezren, and considered him.

“It poured into him, like milk from a pitcher,” Red answered. “His very bones glowed.”

“What do you remember?” Marlon asked.

Bethral watched as Ezren folded his hands before him, and the knuckles went white. “I remember watching the others die. I remember being dragged to the altar, and struggling with my captors.” Ezren’s voice was cracked, but it was almost as if he was reciting a poem. “I saw the Chosen coming out of the bog, and all I wanted was to give her a chance to kill the monster.”

He paused, and swallowed hard. “I spit in his face, and he killed me.”

“You challenged him. Dared him to kill you,” Red said. “The altar was bloodstained and had moss growing over it when they put him on it, but was pure white when….”

“And when you awoke, and saw the others?” Marlon pressed.

Ezren’s head turned slightly, and Bethral saw a flash of green before his gaze fell to the floor. “I just wanted it not to be true. And then it wasn’t.”

Marlon shook his head. “I’d give a lot to see that altar and know what the engravings say. Were there any walls, or other ruins?”

Red shook her head. “There was only the stone spider that disappeared.”

“I have the knife,” Bethral offered.

Everyone turned and looked at her.

EZREN swallowed hard at the sight of the stone knife, still wrapped in the ragged cloth. Marlon had Bethral put it on the table in front of him, and used a dagger to move the cloth aside to display it.

“Flint,” Marlon muttered. “The handle is some kind of antler.”

“I didn’t clean it,” Bethral said.

Marlon grunted, and continued to use a dagger to move the rag about. There was dried blood on the rag, but the knife’s blade was completely clean.

Marlon lifted both hands in the air, and started to chant softly. Ezren felt the hairs on the back of his neck rise, and he saw Red lean back in her chair, away from the mage. Marlon’s eyes began to glow white.