Guardians of the Keep: Book Two of the Bridge of D'Arnath (76 page)

“Karon!” I screamed over the tumult.

Karon, the wind whipping his bloody tunic about him, turned and saw what was happening. He

closed his eyes and swept his arms around and upward, a surge of power holding back the deluge long

enough for Gerick to catch up with us. As we moved forward again, Karon kept Gerick at his side, using

his own body to shield Gerick from the horrors that escaped his enchantments.

The struggle was more than physical. Hour after hour, I heard Karon talking, encouraging, battling.

“Hold, my son. No, this is not your place. . . . I’ll not leave you. Don’t listen. Surely the enchantments of

this place fear you because someday you will have power over them. They smell it in you and wish to

make you afraid. . . .”

Soon every step required a monstrous effort. We trudged through a hideous stew of stinking mud and

pale, solid objects that looked like parts of bodies or beasts. We were shivering and nauseated, battered

and bleeding, our cocoon becoming very thin.

“The Lords hound you so sorely because they know they have failed,” Karon gasped, as he helped

Gerick across a roaring river of black water. “You held back a part of yourself, and they didn’t think you

could. You are stronger— much stronger—than they believed. . . . Take whatever you need of me. They

cannot follow us here. They cannot touch you here. Endure and you will be free. I swear it upon my life.

You
will
be free of them. . . .”

As the hours passed, my arms grew too heavy to lift, and so my only defense against a hail of burning

rocks was to turn and let them hit my back. Paulo’s grin had long faded, and even Karon’s voice fell

silent as bitter rain lashed our raw skin.

Gerick stumbled. Half bent forward, holding his head, he gave an agonized cry and crumpled into the

morass.

“Keep moving,” said Karon in a hoarse whisper, as he gathered Gerick into his arms and staggered

onward. “She’s out there. But if I stop . . . can’t find her . . . can’t hear . . .”

I didn’t understand him. A shivering Paulo and I clung to each other, supported, dragged, and

prodded each other to take each step. We dared not lose sight of Karon through the murk.

My thoughts slipped into villainous dreaming: of the sewing women, of the slave pen, of Ziddari’s

blood-red eyes watching my husband burn. The vicious screams of the crowd, the stench as the flames

consumed his mutilated body ... all seemed as real as the day I lived them. Then Gerick was burning in

the marketplace. . . .
No, no
, I cried,
you have been beloved from the day we knew you. . .
. And the

executioner’s fire became the flames of the Gate-fire where Giano the Zhid had dragged me into madness

to force the Prince of Avonar to destroy the Bridge.

On that terrible, glorious day, Karon had called me back to him, over and over again.
Seri, love . . .

stay close . . . come back. . .
. On this day, I heard him again, so clearly above the tumult. The voice

from the vision of my past. Frayed. Worried. At the limit of his endurance.
Almost there . . . soon, love .

. . hold on. . .
.

All of them lost .
. .Tears flowed and merged with the hot rivers of blood and fire, and I was alone

again . . . dead again . . . empty again. . . .

Another voice.
Follow my thread, my lord. Can you feel it? Hold on, I’ll guide you in ..
. “Seri,

follow my voice.... Is it really you?”

“... Oh, my lord Prince . . .
Ce’na davonet, Giré D’Arnath . .
. and the most excellent boy . . . and

my dear lady . .. Vasrin Creator be praised for his glories ... Vasrin Shaper be thanked for her mercies. .

. .”

“Paulo, child, how I’ve missed you . . . and Seri ... oh, goddess mother, Seri, what’s happened to

him?”

Kind voices, gentle hands . . . blankets . . . cool, sweet water . . . brandy that scalded my throat and

seared my stomach ... I could hear and feel them, but I could not see and could not answer for the fire

and desolation in my eyes. Then the horrific visions were brushed away, as if with some sweet magic, and

I slept without dreams, except for one of strong arms that held me close as if they would never let me go.

When I woke on a crisp green morning alone in my blanket, I wept, for I thought those strong arms had

been only a dream.

CHAPTER 46

Paulo

I never heard of nobody from Dunfarrie ever having an adventure. Old Jacopo, the Lady Seri’s friend

and mine, who was killed by the Zhid—he’d been a sailor, and that was something that was talked about

for a long time. But he told me about sailoring, and it didn’t sound no different from working in a stable or

on a farm. Work all day and half the night, bad food and never enough, folks yelling at you to do this or

do that. But I guess Jacopo loved sailoring the way some folks love farming, or the way I take to

horse-keeping, and that made the difference. As for adventure, though, my travels with the Prince and the

Lady Seri beat all he could tell, but I’d had just about all a person could take of it.

Thanks to the Prince, we’d come back safe to the green world all together again. I recognized the

place where we came out of the doorway in the rock, even though it was daytime and spring instead of

night and winter like it was when we’d gone through it before. We weren’t two leagues from

Avonar—the dead one—and the cave in the rock was the one where we’d followed the Prince through

the Gate-fire into the magic city. Kellea had guided us to the portal with her finding magic, and she and

the Dulcé Bareil were waiting for us. I wanted to kiss every blade of grass, wallow in the streams, and

eat Bareil’s cooking until my belly popped from it.

Saving the Prince had been a near thing. I just barely heard the Prince’s call in my head when I was

combing Firebreather on that night, wondering if the young master was going to come for me or not. The

Prince was half asleep—half dead actually—because the Lords had put a spell on everyone in the Gray

House, sending them to sleep so they would never wake up. The Prince had figured it out almost too late.

He’d managed to get loose of his chains with his new-grown magic, but I’d found him trying to drag

himself out of the fencing yard and not making a good job of it at all. I had to get him away from the

house and help him stay awake until the spell wore off. That’s why we were late and the young master

ended up in such a wicked way. But between us all, we’d gotten loose of the Lords and through the

Breach, and I’d never been so thankful for anything in my life.

I think I slept for a whole day straight through after Kellea dragged us through the Gate and the cave.

I might have done longer—I’m good at sleeping—but the Prince woke me up. “Paulo, how are you this

morning?” He was crouched down by me, whispering. He looked wicked tired. The Lady Serf was

rolled in a blanket, sleeping close by the fire.

“I got no complaints. Except—”

“You’re hungry, right?”

I never knew somebody could smile with his whole self like the Prince, even when he was worn flat

and worried.

“Are you looking in my head?”

“No need. Friends know these things about each other. Bareil has hot porridge over there, but once

you’ve eaten, I need your help.” Never thought I’d hear a prince say that to me. Made me being hungry

not near so important. “I need you to stay with Gerick a while.”

“How is he? Have you ... ?”

He shook his head. “I’ve not been able to help him yet. I’ve looked at him a bit and tried a few

things, but I’ll need everything I can muster to attempt it. So, I’ve got to sleep for a while. But I don’t

want him left alone. Seri isn’t going to wake for hours yet, and he doesn’t know Kellea or Bareil.”

“Sure, I’ll come. Is he awake then?”

“I don’t know. I’m not sure he
can
sleep any more. He’s not eaten or drunk or anything since we’ve

come here. And he’s spoken not a word. Hardly moved.” The Prince rubbed his head. “Get yourself

something to eat, then come to us.”

They had pitched a tent under the trees to shelter the young master. Bareil said they were keeping it

dark inside as he seemed a little easier in the dark. All I could see at first were two white lights. Then, as

I got used to the dark, I saw him sitting up in the corner, huddled up to his knees, his hands clenched into

tight fists. The white lights were the jewels they had given him for eyes.

The Prince sat beside him, watching, talking to him quiet-like. I didn’t know whether to say anything

or not, but the Prince looked up and smiled. “Come in, Paulo. I’ve told Gerick that you’re going to be

with him for a while. Bareil will wake me at sunset. Call me instantly if you need anything.” He laid his

hand on the young master’s head. “We’ll take care of you,” he said, and then he left us alone.

I wasn’t sure whether I ought to talk or not. My usual is not to say anything unless I have to. More

troubles can happen to you from talking too much than from not. But the young master and I had done

some talking in Zhev’Na, and even though he was thinking he was going to be a Lord and had to make

himself hard and alone so as not to hurt anybody by it, we had a time or two. If we’d both been born

low, or both high, then one might say we’d come to be friends.

There at the last, when I thought he’d for sure turned himself evil and was killing the Prince with his

magic, I went crazy and jumped him, expecting he would blast me to the ceiling—and half hoping he

would. But he talked in my head, the way the sorcerers do, and told me to keep hitting him hard. He said

that if the Lords were to get distracted then maybe the Prince would have a chance to stay alive. He kept

telling me he was sorry, so sorry, that he hadn’t understood that V’Saro was the Prince until too late, and

that he’d never meant for the Lords to kill V’Saro or me. He said he couldn’t hardly feel anything any

more, except that he couldn’t let us die—the Prince and the lady . . . and me. While we wrestled there on

that glass floor, I talked back to him the way Kellea had taught me. I said that none of us would leave

him in that wicked place.

And I told him that if he could keep that one bit of feeling he had left, then maybe he could find all his

other feelings again. I was as surprised as the Prince and the lady when he pulled me up off the floor and

came with us. But now it looked like he was in a worse fix than he was before.

“I’m sorry about all this,” I said, squatting down beside him in the tent. “I thought you’d be all right if

we got you out. Shows you what an ignorant horse-keeper knows.”

It was just odd talking to him when you could see only part of his real face, the rest of it that mask.

He couldn’t blink or show that he heard you at all. But I went on babbling about horses and such stuff,

thinking it might be as well if he had something to think on that wasn’t fearful. He was terrible afraid. So

bad it was killing him. The Prince didn’t have to tell me that. The tent was busting with his fear.

When the Prince came back at sunset, he carried a handful of linen and a small leather case. I was

eating some jack Bareil had brought me, and I offered to share it. The Prince shook his head. “I can’t

yet. It’s that stuff they fed us—the graybread. It’s fixed it where anything else makes me sick. I’ll have to

find something later.”

He set down the linen and his case. “Right now we have to take care of Gerick. Light the lamp, if you

would.”

I did it.

“This won’t be easy, Paulo,” he said. “You’ll have to hold him still. I’m going to try to get the mask

off, and I won’t be able to do it one-handed. Are you willing?”

“He saved my life back there. More than once.”

“Mine, too.”

He settled himself next to the young master and opened the leather case. I knew what was in it. It was

his tools that he used when he healed my busted leg and put right the other one so that I hardly limped at

all any more. I hoped he could do the same for his boy as he had for me.

“Remember, unless I tell you it’s all right, you mustn’t touch me at any time once we’re bound and

I’ve said the invocation. If you need help, call Bareil. He’ll be waiting just outside.”

“You can trust me.”

He grabbed a handful of my hair and waggled my head with it, smiling. “I do. It’s why you’re here.”

Then he got on his knees and spread his arms and said his prayer that always started his healing magic.

“Life, hold. Stay your hand . . .”

Neither of us was expecting what happened when he cut the young master’s arm. I’d not heard such

a terrible cry since the night I was sent to Zhev’Na and heard the Zhid putting the collars on the

Dar’Nethi slaves. The Prince looked like someone had stuck a knife in his gut. But while I tied their arms

together, he held his boy tight to keep him from hurting himself from his thrashing about. As soon as the

knot was made and the words were said, the young master quieted.

I remembered how it had been when I was hurting so wicked and the Prince did this to me. White fire

had blazed inside me, making me warm and easy, and the Prince talked to me every moment inside my

head about how things were with me, so that I wasn’t afraid. I hoped the young master could feel it that