Stormed Fortress (99 page)

If Alithiel
'
s song had been potent before, this explosive release surpassed bearing.

Already flattened, the witnesses overtaken on board the Light
'
s galley became whirled dizzy, then scattered witless. Prone on the deck, or dropped limp in the hold, they succumbed to euphoric unconsciousness. All, beyond the sword
'
s bearer, and two more: the Koriani enchantress, whose hand clasped a quartz still encompassed by Sethvir
'
s sent warding; and the clownish, fat prophet, whose auric fields were shut down far enough to slow the barrage.

Elaira had scarcely a moment to notice the shielding that spared her from the sword
'
s tonal confluence. Her hope, taking flight, became pressing necessity, sped on by word from Althain
'
s Warden.

'
Act now, my dear!
'
Sethvir sent through the crystal.
'
Though I realize you
'
ll be concerned for your wounded, the tide in your favour won
'
t wait. Your prince and his retinue must be sailed out of harm
'
s way on the sloop. As a courier, the vessel
'
s officially scheduled. She
'
ll win you free course past Kalesh, where you
'
ll make clean escape through blue water. When Dakar gets seasick, remind him that Parrien s
'
Brydion knows how to navigate.
'

Early Winter 5671

Star Song

While the sloop scuds in brisk winds towards the safety of open waters, Arithon lies senseless in the black weave of Davien
'
s cloak; and although the peal of Alithiel
'
s chord has restored his natural appearance and eased the healing of his dire wound, his shocked spirit has yet to recover awareness since the cry of sheathed steel, fallen silent. . .

Southward, under stars upon the jet sands of Sanpashir where the eldest in service to Mother Dark
'
s Chosen tips her seamed face to the sky, her tears hang the balance between sorrow and hope as she measures the living course of the prophecy:
'
Behold the dark hour of the second death! Now Arithon Teir
'
s
'
Ffalenn rides the song of the sword, with only one way to survive. His fate, and ours, lies with Elaira
anient!.
Grant strength for her coming decision . . .
'

Hours later, when the Light
'
s stricken men recover awareness aboard Adruin
'
s anchored galley, the count turns up several missing wounded, with the crew off the courier penned in the stern cabin, and their swift sloop, secured under Sunwheel pennons, long gone with the out-bound tide; in their midst, Sulfin Evend swears with savage refrain, that in life, he might
never
cross paths with the Spinner of Darkness again . . .

Early Winter 5671

XV Athir

A cold, off-shore passage through stormy waters left a man in acute discomfort too much time for reflective thought. When Parrien s
'
Brydion awakened, mewed up in a berth aboard the jacked messenger sloop, the small vessel rolled hell-bent for the chartless deeps of the Cildein. Creaking timbers and the moan of taut gear told a seaman
'
s emerging senses the craft bearing Arithon
'
s delegation slogged, ill-set, against a cruel headwind. The risen gusts that screamed through the stays presaged worse weather to come. Parrien gritted his teeth. His mad-dog pain found no voice, that all he loved was endangered. He could not guard his doomed family, or spare them from the horrors that followed defeat. Alestron
'
s sad fate lay beyond his reach, while the siege broke the ramparts, behind him.

Worse than the throb of a headache at sea, and the sting of his tender contusions, Parrien faced the distrust of his shipboard captors. The moment the enchantress pronounced his health stable, Talvish arrived, armed, and rousted him.

Chivvied past Glendien
'
s skewering glare, then prodded above deck in a stranger
'
s ill
-fitting oilskins, Parrien cursed Dakar
'
s lubberly seamanship as he assessed the sloop
'
s course and condition. Rolling whitecaps thrashed a molten lead sea, sheeting spray off the plunge of the bowsprit. The keel wallowed, awash. Both main and jib-sheet were pinched, and thrumming in waspish protest. Each crest slammed the careening hull, as the north-eastward tack ploughed towards the frayed scud that foreran a trampling storm front.

Whipped by the hanks of his unbraided hair, still clogged with mud from the poultice, Parrien blustered,
'
Why hasn
'
t your piratical prince stirred his arse to attend the ham-fisted trim of these sails?
'

'
Mind your vile tongue!
'
the spellbinder snarled. Forced in soaked misery to man the rank helm, he ran on,
'
His royal appeal in behalf of your life is all that
'
s stayed Glendien
'
s hand. I
'
d rather have left your fate to the thugs grunting oars aboard Adruin
'
s galley.
'
Between imprecations, Dakar belaboured his s
'
Brydion prisoner with understanding that, Arithon being infirm, somebody else was required to navigate.

Parrien licked his teeth. More likely, that inconvenient necessity had been what kept the clan widow
'
s dirk from his ribs. Braced as the salt chased the fur from his mouth, he said carefully,
'
Where under sky am I taking us?
'

Dakar
'
s staggered gesture encompassed the darkened horizon.
'
Anywhere out-bound.
'
Under contrary wind, despite heaving sickness, he had won as much distance from Alliance pursuit as the courier craft could withstand.
'
What course we set later depends upon Arithon, who hasn
'
t returned to awareness.
'

Which upset was certain to make shipboard life beyond difficult: Parrien understood he was roped by the heels. The Fellowship flunky would scarcely forgive his blood-letting assault on a crown prince.
'
A stupid mistake doesn
'
t make me suicidal,
'
he declared in cornered forbearance.
'
If you turn your back now, I won
'
t swap the heading. My death, or your prince
'
s, would just salve the tears of the jackals besetting my family.
'

Dakar
'
s hackles outmatched the queasy reflex to render his gorge.
'
I should credit the fact that we
'
re in this together? That didn
'
t restrain your killing rage last time.
'

Parrien shrugged. He need not apologize when pressed at bay, that s
'
Brydion reacted for kinsfolk. Since survival demanded, he bent his rapacious attention towards easing the sheets. A cross-staff rummaged out of the stern-locker let him sight the sun
'
s angle at noon. He reset the glass to log elapsed time and determine the moment of sundown. Since plotting required map and dividers, he asked for Talvish to relieve the helm. The belaboured keel settled immediately under the man
'
s more-experienced hand. Wet, but less battered, Parrien left Dakar folded against the lee-rail, then braved the on-going hostilities below to establish a running fix.

With his two wardens topside, the empty stern cabin allowed him free use of the chart nook. His snatched refuge extended, since he could not scribe figures until his numbed fingers got warm.

Fragmented talk filtered through the companion-way, where the Prince of Rathain still languished in febrile unconsciousness. Glendien remained by his midships berth, where the roll of the sloop stayed the mildest. Elaira meantime braved the noisome task of changing his crusted bandages.
'
No sepsis,
'
she commented, thankful, as the lifted dressing exposed the tender pink of a closing wound.
'
The drainage has slackened. I won
'
t need the iodine. Alithiel
'
s chord seems to have healed the grim worst. The fever
'
s less, and his body is mending without any sign of impairment.
'

Yet for the spirit strayed too far afield, swept in thrall by the winter stars
'
singing, no remedy Dakar or Elaira had tried could effect a waking recovery. The Masterbard
'
s gifted awareness stayed lost, strung warp through weft with a harmony past human cognizance. Every effort to summon him through rapport ended in reeling faintness. Against precedent, the enchantress could not touch Arithon
'
s being. Always, the splendour of the grand chord surged through and unravelled her contact.

'
He
'
s drifted too far,
'
she murmured, forsaken and raggedly desolate. While the lantern swung to the sloop
'
s heeling pitch, she masked tears against her clenched fists. Her wisped chestnut braid draped the curve of her neck, and stress bowed her brave shoulders. Through the keen blast of spray through the hatch, as Dakar clumped below on a staggering weave that fetched him up, green, in the galley, Parrien caught snatches of her untenable anguish.

Three days . . . drive him beyond safe limits . . . can
'
t measure the scope of his danger! Mercy on us ... try some other more-desperate avenue ... don
'
t find some way to recall him!
'

Dakar left off brewing his peppermint-leaf tisane to kneel at her side.
'
Elaira.
'
Drawn as he was himself, and as sorrowful, he gathered up her distraught hands.
'
Stand down. Stay strong. Your beloved is spirit wandering. If he rides the winds, that does not mean he
'
s in fatal danger just yet. The effect of the Five Centuries Fountain should balance his health and grant time to seek wiser means than your order
'
s forced mastery to waken him.
'

'
You
'
ve communed with Sethvir?
'
Against Elaira
'
s nature, bitterness showed as she pushed off the spellbinder
'
s comfort.
'
I
'
ve sent to the Warden myself. Called out in appeal through my crystal, repeatedly. Yet I
'
ve gotten nothing but silence from Althain Tower!
'

Dakar stood with a reluctant sigh, braced his awkward weight, and filled the pot on the gimballed stove.
'
Sethvir is still fielding the leaks on two grimwards. Even on good days, nobody fathoms the ways of a Fellowship Sorcerer.
'

Anxiety blunted her Koriani perception; else Elaira would have noted the Mad Prophet
'
s veiled lids and suppressed calculation. A nuance apparent to Parrien, caught sidelong from inside the stern cabin; s
'
Brydion cunning deduced the gist before losing Rathain
'
s precious blood-line, the Sorcerers would have a salvage plan. If they dissembled now, their abstruse machinations were surely already in motion.

Yet hours passed. Night fell to no change, beyond the climbing shrill of the wind, and squalling flurries that led in the storm front. The little sloop reeled, with Talvish strapped to a jack-line on deck, wrestling to tie reefs into the thrashing sails. One man could not control the rank helm. Parrien kicked Dakar from moaning prostration and forced his jelly-legged weight to assist. Tireless strategist, the s
'
Brydion also cornered the Mad Prophet
'
s reticence.

'
You know our next course change,
'
he accused straightaway.
'
Don
'
t prattle to me that you haven
'
t had your marching orders from Althain
'
s Warden!
'

'
We
'
ll be making for Athir,
'
the spellbinder allowed, his discomfort plain through the shared effort to muscle the wheel-spokes. In the roaring dark, his sickly features showed steel: the mulish point past which nobody
'
s mauling might move him.
'
Once we
'
ve made our safe distance offshore, we
'
ll steer north. No tricks, for my confidence. If you hope for a lawful reprieve from your felony, Parrien, you will chart the journey in safety. Best for all concerned if your crime is reduced from a life-threat down to a wounding. Pray that Arithon s
'
Ffalenn regains waking awareness before we reach our destined landfall.
'

So began the difficult passage upcoast towards the desolate spit on Rathain
'
s eastern shore. Amid testy hostility, and the murk of kept secrets, Arithon lay stilled in his berth. The unearthly peace that settled his features wrenched the heart for its changeless serenity. Opposite Dakar
'
s uneasy reserve, Elaira
'
s fraught worry pervaded the sloop
'
s crowded cabin. Her harrowed focus ascertained that his early assessment had not hedged the truth: the nebulous limbo that gripped her beloved did not
yet
threaten survival. Arithon breathed easily. As long as his muscle tone resisted atrophy, she withheld from trying the arcane means that could entangle his fate with the Koriani Order.

Glendien
'
s grief, also, found no release. In cruel separation from kinsfolk and clan, her mourning for Kyrialt had no outlet, except to assume her husband
'
s abandoned post and guard the stricken crown prince. While Elaira slept, and Dakar groaned under flattening nausea, the clanswoman glared daggers at the duke
'
s brother from her crouch beside Arithon
'
s berth.

Yet the ice in Talvish
'
s silence wore the hardest on Parrien
'
s trapped state of penury. Watch after watch, through black storm and under the glittering, blue mornings feathered with cirrus, the blond swordsman shouldered each stint at the helm with his light humour cast into eclipse.

S
'
Brydion tenacity broke only once, the hag-ridden temptation too strong to resist when a fisherman hailed off the coast from Perdith rafted up for the purpose of barter. Dakar
'
s odd insistence, that their sloop
'
s onboard stores must be bolstered with long-term provisioning, stayed their passage an hour to onload sealed casks of salt meat and biscuit. With Talvish
'
s muscle immersed with the lading, and the women belowdecks hiding Arithon, Parrien
'
s sneak attempt to stow away on the lugger was thwarted by the spellbinder
'
s detainment for cause, on the outstanding charge of crown justice.

'
Only Arithon
'
s word holds your fate in abeyance! As Rathain
'
s prince, he alone can appeal for the grievance of Kyrialt
'
s death, or call a reprieve for your mad act of slaughter against him.
'
While the cheerful fishermen cast off their lines, the sloop fell away, turned offshore again to duck hostile patrols, and Eltair Bay
'
s flow of Alliance-flagged commerce through Vaststrait. Dakar planted his obstinate bulk at the helm and shouted down his prisoner
'
s seething rebellion.