Stormed Fortress (68 page)

* * *

The image pool shivered. As though something massive stirred in the depths, far under the earth where the source lay, a disturbance ruffled the mirror-smooth stillness where Elaira
'
s reflection pressed shaken hands to her face to dam sudden tears of despair.

'
No!
'
Davien protested.
'
I would see the enchantress through Alestron
'
s gates! She is the sole anchor to balance the recoil as Prince Arithon faces this set-back! If I
'
m not free to grant her assistance, leave me the assurance, beyond question, that her Teir
'
s
'
Ffalenn will not stand alone.
'

But the Sorcerer
'
s heart-felt appeal went unheard, an unsettling precedent in this secret place, wrought out of his busy genius for crafting, and another
'
s: a power whose will had slept, acquiescent with calm, until now: for the dreaming partnership had awakened, on terms of a bargain come due.

The next droplet fell. Not of Davien
'
s summoning, its ripple of impact erased the framed scene at Alestron. Now, the fathomless well of the spring gave nothing back but jet darkness. Sourced in the secretive earth, it spilled virgin water, sealed away from air or light and untouched by the quickening stir of the world
'
s wind.

Davien swore aloud.
'
Ath above, you are heartless!
'

A glimmer arose from the unmarked deeps, flaring yellow-gold as a lamp, or the fire that glanced off the eye of a dragon. The light shimmered, fleeting, then dissolved: into a cruel place of sifted, rained ash, cut through by a jagged canyon.

Stacks of oppressive, striated basalt hemmed in the horizon. Heat and smoke laced with the flat tang of mineral scoured through Davien
'
s flared nostrils.

The warning stopped thought:
almost,
he could sense the spirit and flesh of the colleague entrapped inside Scarpdale
'
s torn grim ward. Asandir
'
s will held. His unflagging courage could not last much longer: attrition ground down the resilient strength that a Fellowship Sorcerer could renew, but never from that place.

'
Not yet!
'
Davien flattened his palm in a gesture that was both plea and negation.
'
Not yet! Ath
'
s sweet grace, for my wrecked peace of mind, one thing more before I submit.
'

Sensation receded. The aurora of rainbow-hued light where the water sluiced over the ciphered inscription seemed a living presence no more. Yet a whisper that was not quite sound, not quite voice, rang through the carved spirals that channelled the play of electromagnetics.

The vibration loosed the next water-drop, falling, a strike that shattered the obsidian polish of the spring
'
s surface. Another scene formed like an eyeblink in time, showing a sun-washed, blue-tiled room, where a family shared an uneasy breakfast around the scrubbed boards of a trestle . . .

* * *

The neat kitchen at Inrush lay far removed from the blizzard that beset Alestron. Warmed by the light of southlands morning, cosy with the aromas of jam and fresh bread, Jinesse tied back her fly-away hair with a strand of pastel yarn. Seated alongside, her husband Tharrick confronted her adult twins, his weathered face lined with concern.

The impasse that had Fiark discomposed in his chair erupted to his sudden anger.
'
Don
'
t try me on that score! Arithon sent a letter three months ago. His terms were straightforward. The Alliance
'
s reach has grown too pervasive. All associates linked to the s
'
Ffalenn name are endangered. His Grace demanded a suspension of every activity handled in his behalf.
'

Blond braid still matted with the off-shore salt left unwashed since her brig had made landfall, Feylind replaced her glower with a wicked smile.
'
And did you?
'

Fiark flushed. He looked away first. That stark precedent made Jinesse bite her lip and choke back an outcry. Beside her, a staunch bulwark, Tharrick laced his callused hand through her fingers beneath the table.

'
No,
'
Fiark confessed to his twin.
'
I didn
'
t. And not only because of that desert-bred steward. His queer, stubborn service makes the
Khetienn
'
s
crew mind their backs like they
'
re creeping around a poked bee
'
s nest.
'

Feylind
'
s triumphant grin brightened with teeth.
'
The runt creature
'
s a pest! I
'
m amazed no one
'
s stranded him. Did he claim he
'
d skewer you for a roasted goat if you slackened your guard over Mother Dark
'
s Chosen?
'

A twisted smile twitched Fiark
'
s lips, prelude to his chagrined laughter.
'
Something like that.
'

Settled back with crossed arms, Feylind nodded.
'
The mad imp threatened me once, a warning never to lapse in my care for Arithon
'
s interests. I
'
ve no doubt he
'
d stick me with his carving knife, too, if he thought that my loyalty faltered.
'
Warmed up to her pitch, she laced in, again.
'
Which is why you will not shift my cargo but sign off on the manifest King Eldir
'
s entrusted to relieve the siege at Alestron.
'

'
Please,
'
whispered Jinesse, her throat too tight.
'
Daughter, I beg you! Think of your two growing children.
'

Feylind swallowed.
'
Mother, I have.
'
Her quiet appeal also included Tharrick, quite stripped of her seafaring bluster.
'
The little ones are as much Fiark
'
s and Corra
'
s, as Teive
'
s and mine.
'

To which her mate added,
'
I have to agree. To our own, we are exotic, strange visitors, while your home has soothed the skinned knees of first steps, and provided the constancy of their raising.
'

Fiark said nothing, a declaration that shouted. In fact, the scrappy desertman had told him much more, then made him swear a
frightening
vow to hold that revealed knowledge secret. For the Biedar tribes of the Sanpashir desert, the survival of Arithon Teir
'
s
'
Ffalenn ran beyond an imperative necessity. Fiark loved his twin sister as life itself. Yet far more than his own family
'
s fate hung in the fragile balance.

To the ship
'
s mate who held Feylind
'
s love, he asked, grim,
'
You won
'
t argue our case? When you turn your flag in front of the Alliance armed forces, there
'
ll be no reprieve. If you survive the course, you
'
ll be branded past pardon as renegade shipping.
'

'
This is my choice, also,
'
Teive declared, unabashed.
'
I saw what Arithon risked when Feylind and
Evenstar
lay under threat by his enemies.
'
Huge, rope-burned hands toyed with the child
'
s tin spoon, borrowed to drizzle honey over the pan bread that languished, untouched, on the crockery. The metal bent, under his whitened knuckles.
'
His Grace would have died rather than forfeit our interests. Could I live with myself as a father if I ignored his need, now?
'

'
He gave us all that we have here, at Innish
'
Tharrick said in startling support. As Jinesse paled, he cut short her aggrieved protest, firmly and straight from the heart.
'
Not least, you were there! You saw his hand heal when he spared my wrecked life, after I wronged him in Merior.
'

A retired ex-guardsman, once cashiered by Alestron over a miscalled charge of lapsed duty, Tharrick enclosed his trembling wife into his protective embrace. As she sobbed against his broad shoulder, he inclined his grey head in tribute to the stepdaughter who spoke, bold as brass, for her right to take action.

'
I can
'
t go with you, Feylind,
'
Tharrick declared.
'
I don
'
t agree with Duke Bransian
'
s policies, or his hard hand with the men who serve under him. Yet the enemies that gnaw at Alestron
'
s sea flank would have long since defeated a lesser man. The aggression which secures his citadel has always provided the linch-pin that defends the clan legacy protecting East Halla
'
s free wilds. The s
'
Brydion lineage might be faulted for arrogance, yet that short-fall lends no grounds to condemn a whole people. Lysaer
'
s move to create an Alliance rallying cry, and burn them to the ground as a scapegoat cannot be met with a blind eye.
'

'
You will help! I thought so!
'
Feylind crowed with fierce pride.

Her gratitude caught the breath of the man who stood for the blood father once lost to the sea. Tharrick sighed. His nod was not grudging. Despite his reservation, that the perilous course Feylind must sail defied every sensible reckoning, he gave what he had to offer.
'
For your hare-brained courage, I
'
ll disclose the code signals you
'
ll need to bring you safely into the citadel
'
s harbour.
'

Which left Fiark, tight-lipped and silent in the fine broadcloth he wore as shore factor. He might never recover. Beside Feylind
'
s feckless craving for maritime thrills, and her careless penchant for ship
'
s slops, he was ever the settled, meticulous presence. Quite his twin
'
s opposite, for all that they were as two halves of the selfsame spirit.

His blue eyes matched hers, across the plank-table, identically bright with regret.
'
If I don
'
t endorse your ship
'
s papers through excise, you
'
d burn the
Evenstar
'
s
honest registry forthwith and run this cargo through Kalesh as contraband.
'

Like echo, between them, the past spoke in memory, bearing Arithon
'
s cry of stripped anguish.
'
Dhirken died!
'

'
I know what I
'
m risking,
'
Feylind declared.

Fiark raised his fair eyebrows. Troubled beyond any words to express, he pressed anyway
'
Do you? I hope so.
'
He swallowed, then touched Jinesse in a gentle appeal.
'
Mother. My sister is bound to go. I can
'
t withhold my part. The weight of a clerk
'
s stamp on a ship
'
s document won
'
t make any damned difference. Since Dharkaron
'
s Black Spear itself could not stay her, I
'
m asking you to give over to her Prince Arithon
'
s royal signet. Return the ring. Rescind his Grace
'
s oath, that our lives require his pledge of protection . . .
'

* * *

The next droplet of water plummeted downwards. Its splash struck the spring, bitter as acid, and unequivocal. The scene within Jinesse
'
s kitchen dissolved as the ring-ripple fled, bringing darkness.

Time could not be stopped. A summons arose on the strength of a promise not to be withheld any longer.

Davien bowed his head. His whisper raised a plaintive echo within the domed walls of the chamber.
'
Fly well.
Fl
y alone. Find your strengths, my wild falcon.
'

For the Sorcerer saw his worst fear become manifest: he would not be free to stand in support through the harrowing hour of Arithon
'
s need. All of the future hung in fate
'
s balance, while older loyalties, and an ancient binding, lay beyond his might to rescind.

Another drop fell. In the space where the Sorcerer
'
s form stood erect, warmblooded and breathing,
alive,
now an eagle
'
s winged form shimmered like an explosion amid the stilled air. Wings spread, it soared but a motionless instant. Then its presence melted into the droplet, still falling, lit now by a searing white spark.

The mote struck the spring, dissolved by the splash, while the pin-point of light winnowed separate. At the crux, the pattern of consciousness that comprised a Fellowship Sorcerer did not reclaim human form.

Davien
'
s presence was not borne away as a man, to resolve in another location. Instead, the blazing fleck plunged downward into the deeps that sourced the well
'
s spring. Suspended, it fell like a star
as though through forever,
then vanished.

Frail light became utterly swallowed: into the pupil of a wide, living eye, brilliant as a midsummer sun flared golden at sunrise.