Kings of the North (42 page)

“Cal is still alive. Your wife and children are dead, and it’s my fault.”

“It is not. Aliam, listen to me. Without you, I would be dead, dead of starvation or, if I survived in body, dead in soul from what my captor did to me.” Aliam stirred a little. Kieri felt a rush of warmth, as if the taig touched him. “You saved my life,” he went on. “You saved my sanity. You were my father, my elder brother. From you and Estil I learned what goodness is, how good people behave. From you I learned how good men govern others, how they lead others, how even in war honor and wisdom have a place. From you came the ideas that first let us—you and me and Aesil M’dierra—form a code of honor for mercenaries in Aarenis. If, years from now, my people think I was a good king, it will be because of
you
, because of your kindness and your example.”

“But still—” Aliam was sobbing now, tears running down into his beard. Kieri’s eyes burned, but this was no time for tears. Either he was a king, with a king’s powers, or he was a title only, hollow.

He reached out and pulled Aliam into a hug, as Aliam had once hugged the terrified boy he himself had been. The taig’s power he’d felt before surged up in him from the earth below; he could feel it reaching outward to Aliam, warming them both. “But still, Aliam Halveric, I tell you
as your king
that you did me no harm. You did me only good. As your king, Aliam, I tell you that you are my oldest friend, my dearest friend, and nothing you have ever done or would do will change that. And as your king, I command you—lay down this guilt you feel. Walk away from it. I believe it was put in your heart by some evil being.” He pushed Aliam just far enough away to see his face, to see the startled look, the relief that showed in Aliam’s eyes, as whatever pain held him was lessened … faded … and blew away like smoke on the wind.

“I feel—”

“Better, I hope,” Kieri said. “A visit from your king is supposed to have that effect, they tell me.”

“What did you do?” More life, more alertness came back into Aliam’s face, as if he were waking up from a long illness.

“I have been taking instruction in the arts of kingship,” Kieri said, as lightly as he could. He was still gripping Aliam’s shoulders; he could feel in his fingers some change in the man, something that felt like the difference between a diseased, dying tree and a healthy one. Had he really done that? Or was it just his words? “My elven relatives,” he went on, “tell me that here in Lyonya a king’s main task is restoring harmony and health, not resting his royal rump on a throne being flattered.”

Aliam made a sound between a sob and a laugh, then drew a long, shaky breath. “Well … Sir King … whatever you did, and however you did it, I feel … better. I still think—no, all right, I won’t say it. I feel better. Almost … almost younger, though at my age that is not a possibility.”

“Why not?” Kieri asked. “I feel younger, too.”

“But you’re half-elf and I am not.”

“Aliam, this is no time to start an argument.”

Another shaky breath. “You’re right, Sir King—”

“And didn’t I tell you to call me Kieri, at least when we’re alone? And do you see a horde of courtiers standing around ready to be jealous?”

“Er … no … Kieri. But it’s so … I don’t know what—”

“Something … I know there’s something but not what. You would not have felt that much misery all on your own.”

“You remember I said—in Chaya—”

“Yes, and I remember what I said and that you were—or you acted—reassured. Were you trying to fool me then, Aliam?”

“No. I think I
was
reassured then, there in Chaya with you. I wouldn’t try to fool you anyway; you were always able to see through me, at least as you began to grow into your ability. That was one of the things that made managing you difficult when you were a squire. And made you a comfortable friend, once we were grown.”

“So something happened … something or someone changed your heart, your mind … when did it start, can you think?”

Aliam shook his head. “Before you came—last winter. Maybe it was just the long winter closing in … not enough to do … brooding indoors … and then after your coronation, when we came back here … I thought it was the summer heat …”

“Nothing to make you think one of the evil gods might have laid a curse on you?”

“Not since Paks left to find you.”

“What?”

“The night before she left. The … um … Lady had been here.” Aliam looked startled suddenly. “I haven’t—we couldn’t say it—but I suppose I can to you, as you’re her grandson …”

Kieri waited as patiently as he could.

“The Lady came to talk to Paks; the elves did not at first think you were fit to be king, as you know. Paks insisted; the Lady agreed that at least you should have the chance to prove yourself. Then the Lady locked our tongues about her visit; only Estil and I remember it, and we cannot speak of it.”

The elves had opposed his kingship? For a moment Kieri’s mind veered to that, but then he pulled his attention back to the immediate problem.

“What exactly happened the night before Paks left?”

“Achrya came. The Webspinner. To attack Paks, but she spun
webs throughout the house. Paks routed her; we cleared the webs, and then Paks left. We’ve seen nought but ordinary little spiders since, and no harm in them.”

“Maybe,” Kieri said. “But I suspect she used some other bane to cloud your mind.” He looked around at the garden walls, his gaze caught by movement, a flake of stone perhaps, breaking off and falling to the ground behind the peach trained on the wall. “Come with me,” he said, drawing Aliam closer once more and laying an arm across his shoulders.

Outside the walled garden, his Squires waited.

“Sir King,” Arian said. “By your leave, I must speak.” He nodded, then stepped away from Aliam. She spoke quietly. “My lord, there is a daskdraudigs …” Kieri raised his eyebrows. “A rock serpent,” Arian explained. “Evil invading rock—it comes alive. We must get them out at once, and call rangers. I have only one daskin arrow, and none of the other Squires have any; it is not enough.”

He remembered now: Paks had mentioned a daskdraudigs, but he’d been more interested in her healing than what had come before. “Aliam,” Kieri said, as casually as he could. “Would one of your people know where the nearest forest rangers might be?”

“They have a camp at a spring about a half-day’s walk sunward,” Aliam said. “The children love to ride out there to escape their chores; we know they’re safe, if they overnight with the rangers.”

“Send one of your people, then, and ask them to come here quickly.”

“A problem?” Aliam asked, looking worried.

“Yes.” Kieri tried to keep his voice light.

Across the courtyard, a girl perhaps shoulder-high led a bay horse from the stable; she wore riding gear and had a long green feather in her cap. “Estilla!” Aliam called.

“Granfer?”

“What do you ride for?”

She turned red. “Um … sir … to … exercise Bayberry …”

“Exercise him to the ranger camp, then, and ask them to come here. The king wishes to speak to them.”

A smile broke out on her face. “Yes, Granfer! At once!” She mounted and reined the horse toward the gate.

“Quickly, Estilla!” Aliam called.

No answer but the horse leaping into a gallop, and the beat of its hooves on the turf outside, rapidly diminishing.

“We call her little Estil,” Aliam said, as if that weren’t obvious. “She’s actually named for her mother’s mother, as is proper, but she’s exactly like Estil at the same age. Even her mother’s mother calls her Estilla.”

Cal Halveric came out of the stable. “Father? Is there trouble?”

Kieri spoke before Aliam could. “I feel something wrong with the taig, Cal. I want the rangers’ help in understanding what it is.”

“Should I call alarm?” Aliam asked.

Kieri extended his taig-sense. There—the garden wall. The house? He could not be sure. But the garden wall and … the back wall of the stable.

“Do not say the name loudly, Sir King,” Arian said quietly. She was watching the garden wall. “It must not know we know.”

“Quietly, then,” Kieri said to Aliam and Cal. “Do not go into the stable yourself, Cal, but have your grooms bring the horses out—to—to show me their paces in the field, especially any in the south aisle stalls.”

“We haven’t been able to keep horses in there since late winter,” Aliam said. “They fret, but we couldn’t find anything wrong. What about the house?”

“Move everyone from the garden side, just in case.”

“Outside,”
Arian murmured. “A picnic?”

“It’s a clear day,” Kieri said. “Let’s make a party in the meadow, watching the horses. Tell Estil.” Into Aliam’s ear he murmured, “Daskdraudigs.” Aliam startled, then nodded.

Aliam went back inside; Kieri watched the garden wall. Were the seams between the stones moving? He couldn’t tell, for the cover of vines and the branches of trees espaliered there. He remembered Paks had said only daskin arrows could kill one. Arian stood near him, saying nothing; Kieri had bade the other Squires help bring out the picnic.

People streamed from the house. One of Aliam’s daughters-in-law shepherded a string of giggling children, all carrying bundles, out the gate. Grooms led horses from the stable, held them back while another gaggle of children scampered past with pillows on their heads.

Would the daskdraudigs know alarm had been given? Would it
wait to strike? And how did it do what it did? Kieri stood still, trying to feel the extent of the danger without alerting it, as more people, more animals, passed behind him and out of the main courtyard to what he hoped was safety. Aliam’s older grandsons and some of his soldiers lugged the big camp tents and their poles … Estil herself, bow slung on her back, had one end of a pole on which two steaming kettles hung; another daughter-in-law held the other end. Back and forth, back and forth. Kieri watched another flake or two fall off the wall, sparkling in the slanting light, until the garden enclosure had lost the sun for the day.

Thundering hooves caught his attention; he did not look away, but heard one of his Squires greet the newcomers. In moments, two rangers were beside him. “Sir King?” one said.

“Arian says it’s a daskdraudigs,” Kieri said softly. “I think it’s taken the south stable wall and most of the wall around the kitchen garden. Bless your speed in coming.”

“We knew you were here,” one ranger said. “We came to see and met Aliam’s granddaughter on the way. We sent her on to our camp, to fetch the others. A daskdraudigs? They almost never invade set stone.”

“It is, though,” the other said. “And something drew it, some lure.” He unslung his bow and looked through his quiver.

“Sir King, you must withdraw,” Arian said. “You have no weapon to deal with a daskdraudigs, and I have but the one daskin arrow.”

Kieri obeyed, joining Aliam and his family across the field from the compound. “It’s definitely a daskdraudigs,” he said then. “And they think it was lured here.”

“Something Achrya left?” Estil asked.

“No doubt,” Aliam said. “Thank all the gods you came to visit, Kieri.”

“Indeed,” Kieri said, watching across the field. The rangers reappeared, one on the roof of the house and one on the forecourt’s wall. He saw them draw their bows, the streaking flight of arrows. Then the monster moved. The ranger on the house roof staggered and fell as the south wall of the house heaved up and sideways, breaking roof-beams like twigs and sending slates down in a rattling cascade.

Estil and the other women gathered the children into a knot, closing
them in and comforting those who began to cry. Aliam’s soldiers looked to him, but he held them back. “Can’t fight that with swords,” he said. “They know what they’re doing, the rangers. But be ready to move back if we need to.”

The monster’s other end, the south stable wall, rose and came down on the rest of the stable with an impact that shook the ground where Kieri stood, then rose again and crashed into the front wall, barely missing the ranger standing on it; the shock of the impact knocked him off the wall, and he landed on the ground just outside. The ranger on the roof rolled down the slope of a sound portion into a chimney, scrambled up, and shot again and again, immobilizing that end of the monster. The other ranger, slower to rise, barely missed being hit by falling stones as the other end struck the front wall again, but his arrows flew true, and soon that end as well was immobilized.

Was the danger over? Kieri held up his hand to still the excited clamor of voices around him. It still felt … wrong. Whatever had drawn the daskdraudigs was still there.

The two rangers, arrows ready, clearly thought the same thing, though the monster was motionless now. Paks had said rockserpents died, became once more inert stone, safe. Was there another one? Or some other menace?

He looked at the forest behind them. The forest taig held nothing of evil; it was alert, wary, but not hostile. Whatever evil he felt was centered there, in the ruins of Aliam’s house. That made sense, with Achrya’s visit, if the Webmistress set the lure that brought the daskdraudigs. But why did he feel evil still near if the daskdraudigs had died?

Aliam’s people set up a camp and had food cooking before full dark. Halveric troops laid out a perimeter, set sentries. The two rangers near the house came one by one for supper but then went back near the walls to keep watch on the daskdraudigs, they said.

Shortly before dark, four more rangers arrived with Estilla.

“She rides like a ranger,” one said. Estilla grinned, but it was clear she was exhausted; her mother took her away for food and sleep. Kieri hoped it would be sleep. These rangers had brought many more daskin arrows from their camp and shared them out with the two
who’d arrived earlier. Kieri gave them no orders, as they seemed to know what to do, and he finally lay down in his tent with the King’s Squires outside.

He woke before dawn, in the death-hour, his skin drawn up into prickles. His sword’s jewel pulsed with light in a way he’d never seen; he drew it and had just reached the tent’s door when sentries raised the alarm, and a blast of dark malice slammed into his mind.