Edge of Darkness ~ A Darkness & Light Novel Book Three (23 page)

A hand rested on his shoulder. By the tingling coming from it, Berk knew without looking it was the Emperor's. He tried not to flinch under the touch, but magic of any sort was fast becoming something Berk would rather distance himself from. Commander Garek called it 'spooky stuff', and had little tolerance for it. Berk could now understand why he felt that way.

"I don't know what her intentions were," the Emperor said. "We can only guess at that. I do know that something of her touch has lingered in you since your first meeting in Nisair, connecting you to her. She strengthened that when she found you on the road. I removed it. I apologize for the manner in which I did so. I admit to not being as skilled as others in that regard. I'm certain one of the mages could have made it less uncomfortable for you."

Berk nodded dumbly, only half of what the Emperor said actually made sense to him. He latched on to the one bit that did. The tiny glimmer that gave him hope. "So, the nightmares, the visions, they were her doing?"

"Most likely, yes. A great portion of them, in any regard." The Emperor paused long enough to draw Berk's look. An apologetic smile curved his mouth. "I couldn't help but get a sense of the turmoil you have been experiencing since Donovan's attack on the wall. I was also able to witness those events from your perspective. Do not doubt for one moment that you acted with honor. You carry a heavy burden of shame and guilt that is not yours to bear. The priestess used that against you, feeding it like a fire to keep it smoldering, to weaken you and make you easier for her to manipulate. She would not have found it a simple task otherwise. You have an awareness not generally found in those without power. You knew the moment I began to read you, and even made an effort to resist. Futile in this regard. Had I been someone of far lesser power, I would not have found you as easy a target as others would be. I believe that is one of the qualities that drew her interest."

"It's a relief, in some regards," Berk said. "At least I know I'm not going crazy."

"I believe you will owe Commander Garek your thanks on our return," the Emperor said. "Had you stayed in Nisair, things would have gone differently."

Berk stood abruptly. "Your pardon, Majesty, I'd rather not think about that, if you don't mind. It's been enough of the hells these past weeks without dwelling on what might have been. I'll gladly buy the commander as many drinks as he can handle if his sending me here results in being free of those nightmares."

The Emperor surprised Berk with a burst of laughter. "I've seen Garek drink. I'm afraid you'd need to purchase your own brewery to fulfill that promise." He tipped his head toward the tent entrance. "You're dismissed. I believe you'll find you are able to get a better rest than you have in some time."

"Thank you, Your Majesty." Berk bowed, low and formal, awarding the same to the general as he turned to leave.

The general gave a curt nod in return, his expression closed. For the briefest moment, Berk thought he saw something dark and terrifyingly familiar flash though the general's eyes. When he looked again, it had vanished, and Berk decided to blame it on his imagination.

CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

The escort reached the Greensward the following afternoon, and the natural wards surrounding the land wavered as soon as the carriage bearing Nialyne's body passed through them before beginning a steady keening. It unraveled the carefully constructed barrier Bolin had spent the last fortnight building around his grief, and renewed the dread he felt at having to face the elders. Danya Maurar in particular.

He felt Dain's eyes on him as he sat unmoving on Sandeen, watching the phalanx of riders from Galys Auld approaching them. The Galysian riders drew to a halt several lengths off. The filtered sunlight glinted sharply off the polished surface of their pale green and gold armor. The three foremost riders detached themselves from the rest, and Bolin nudged Sandeen forward to meet them, the Emperor beside him, the standard bearers following behind. As soon as they had neared the border, Dain had ordered the banners to be unfurled with the Greensward's taking the place of honor in the center, flanked by the blue and silver of the empire on the right, and the burgundy and green of Bolin's on the left.

"Your Royal Majesty, you honor us greatly with your presence." The woman in the center of the group inclined her head respectfully in Dain's direction. She, alone, wore her plumed helm with the visor up. The rest of the riders showed nothing of their faces. "I am First Rider Thea, given authority to speak for the elders of the Greensward. On their behalf, I welcome you."

"I would that it was better times which brought us," Dain said.

Thea's gaze shifted to Bolin. He expected anger, or perhaps even hatred, but received neither. Only sincere sorrow showed in the First Rider's brown eyes.

"Danya Bolin, I cannot express the heaviness in my heart for our loss, but for yours more than any. Danya Blyth sends her personal greetings, and bade me ask you to keep Danya Nialyne's memory foremost in your thoughts over the coming days."

Bolin tipped his head in understanding. He had just been tactfully cautioned. Not all the elders would welcome him back to Galys Auld with open arms. In truth, he had half expected to be barred from even entering the Greensward. It certainly wouldn't have surprised him. Though the details of Nialyne's death hadn't been included in the Emperor's message, Bolin had no doubt Maurar would lay the blame on him.

Thea turned and signaled the phalanx, and they fell in around the carriage, replacing the Imperial honor guard. Bolin motioned the center standard bearer forward, and took the Greensward's from him. He coiled the banner around the staff, tying it with a black and gold cord. Settling the butt of the staff in his own stirrup, he joined Thea at the head of the procession, leaving room for Dain. The Emperor, however, dropped back to replace the rider guiding the carriage horses, giving Nialyne the highest honor he could.

The citizens of the Greensward flanked the escort's route well before they reached Galys Auld. Most wore their sorrow openly on tear-stained faces as they tossed woven wreaths of late summer flowers beneath the horses' hooves, or placed them reverently on Nialyne's shrouded carriage. Some of those who recognized the Imperial banner or Dain himself, dropped to one knee, heads bowed.

The first person to step out and drape a flowing garland over Sandeen's neck caught Bolin by surprise. The stallion dipped his head obligingly and attempted to nibble on the woven strand of flowers the woman settled over his withers as she offered Bolin quiet words of condolence. Many more well-wishers followed the closer to Galys Auld they got, and Sandeen's neck grew thick with fragrant streamers.

"There is little we have ever had in common," Master Healer Konly said as she took her turn. "As cold and hard as you are, your love for Danya Nialyne shone like a star in the dark. There are none here who doubt that. Nor is there any doubt as to the place you held in her heart. The depths of my own grief are nigh unbearable. I can only guess at the enormity of yours."

Bolin opened his mouth, struggling to find words, but the Master Healer shook her head, and patted his knee.

"No need."

She moved away, and the procession continued into the main square of Galys Auld. The elders, dressed in the formal deep green and gold robes of their station, stood waiting in a loose semi-circle before the fountain. Maurar's gaze landed on Bolin, as cold as the Reaches, then moved past him, widening first in grief and then in surprise, no doubt when he spotted the Emperor leading the carriage. Bolin dismounted, his heart slamming in his chest, his mouth dry. He didn't dare look at anyone else as he walked forward to stand before Maurar.

The outpouring of sympathy along the road had served to utterly destroy the last bit of Bolin's wall. He blinked back unbidden tears, fighting to keep the shaking of his hands from reaching his voice as he addressed the elder, speaking in Galysian and keeping his voice level through sheer determination alone. "The Greensward's most beloved daughter has returned to her Mother's embrace. She sits now with her forebears in the splendor of the Halls. Know that she went to her rest with great honor in the service of her Emperor."

Maurar's jaw ticked as Bolin presented him with the wrapped banner, then dropped to one knee before him, head bowed.

"Your words are hollow and bring no comfort," the elder said.

Before Bolin could think of a response, Danya Blyth moved in and laid a gentle hand on his shoulder.

"Grief often colors our emotions in ways we would not choose," she said, her gaze shifting to Maurar, her words gentle. "Our guests are weary in body and spirit, as are we all. Rest, I think, is in order."

This last she directed at Bolin, extending a hand to draw him to his feet. Maurar looked as though he had more to say but someone came up behind Bolin, drawing the elder's gaze.

Maurar inclined his head, sketching a bow from the shoulders. "Your Majesty, you honor us."

"The Greensward's loss has blanketed the empire in a shroud of sorrow," Dain said, stopping beside Bolin. "Danya Nialyne's sacrifice was a selfless act of great love and bravery."

Maurar visibly struggled to keep his expression neutral. "The details of which shall be shared with us, I presume?"

"At your convenience, Danya," Bolin said. The reality of that event peeled back a fresh layer of dread, and he suddenly wished he had Ciara beside him. Granted, her impulsive, headstrong nature caused Bolin no small amount of frustration. Still, it occurred to him just then how much he missed the quiet strength her presence leant.

"There is much to attend to," Blyth said. "First Rider Thea will see to the quartering of your escort. We have prepared rooms for you, Your Majesty, not far from Danya Bolin's. Once you have rested and freshened up from your journey, we shall share a meal in Danya Nialyne's honor."

"Your graciousness is most welcome," Dain said, lifting Blyth's hand to place a kiss on her knuckles.

Maurar cleared his throat and slid a dark look in Bolin's direction before moving around him to walk with wooden steps toward Nialyne's carriage.

"Had she foreseen the outcome of her choices," Blyth said to Bolin, a sad smile on her face, "Nialyne would have acted no differently. Do not carry the blame for her death in your heart, but rather the joy of her life. Take some rest. We will see to all else."

***

Bolin stood outside the door to Nialyne's rooms, the palm of his hand flat against the carved wood, a hollowness in him he couldn't name. He tried not to think, or even feel. The place inside him, where once Nialyne's presence had dwelled, had become a vast wasteland. Ignoring it, trying to recapture the feeling of her, forcing himself to imagine that if he opened the door she would be waiting there, seemed a futile effort, but he did it anyhow. He wanted to believe his will alone could bring her back. That, when he opened her door, he wouldn't be met by the void he knew awaited him.

It took him a long time to lower his hand to the latch, his fingers wrapping the cool metal, as familiar to his touch as the grip of his sword. It took far less time to drop that hand and back away. He stood for a moment longer, then turned and continued down the corridor to his quarters.

He would have preferred to remain in his rooms for the rest of the evening, but not joining the elders for a meal in Nialyne's honor would have been unpardonable. It took a quiet knock at the door, however, to rouse him from a chair before the cold hearth. He expected a servant, sent with orders to politely inform him of his tardiness, instead he found the Emperor.

"I guessed you might be dragging your feet," Dain said as he entered, then paused as his eyes swept over Bolin. "Are you certain you're up to this? I could make your apologies if you would rather not. No one would fault you."

Bolin shook his head, taking a seat on a nearby bench to pull his boots on. "Maurar most certainly would. He'd take it as an affront, and I've enough issues with him."

"He does seem a bit…stiff."

"We've never seen things quite the same," Bolin said. "They were never pledged, but he and Nialyne were very close. I'm sure I was the cause of more than one disagreement between them, especially in my youth. Though she looked on me as her son, Maurar has only ever seen me as an outsider, and perhaps a rival for Nialyne's affection. He hated my being here, as much as I hated being gone."

"You're not to blame for her death. You know that, right?"

Bolin cocked his head to look up at Dain. "You know, I've just spent over a fortnight trying, but I just can't seem to convince myself of that."

"Tell me, if you were to die in my defense, would I be held to blame?"

Bolin scowled. "That's entirely different."

"Only because you want it to be, my friend." Dain took Bolin by the elbow and pulled him to his feet. "Let us go celebrate a life well-lived. Tomorrow we can give our sorrow to the Goddess."

A sudden, bitter retort rose in Bolin's throat at mention of the Goddess, but he swallowed it. That resentment he wouldn't give voice to. It was far too personal and close to his heart. Instead, he gave a short nod, then followed Dain from his rooms and across the gardens toward the tables set up in the court yard.

On their arrival, a Galysian herald announced them, with all their assorted titles. The Emperor first, of course, then Bolin. Maurar's face pinched when
Steward of Galys Auld,
and
Guardian of the Greensward
were tacked onto Bolin's extensive list. Blyth must have supplied those to the herald. Bolin had never claimed any title in the Greensward, even though they were his by right; the first through Nialyne's benevolence, the second due to his position in the Empire.

At their approach, Maurar rose to cede the head of the table to Dain, putting himself several chairs to the Emperor's left, while Bolin took the open seat to the Emperor's right.

Conversation remained polite and muted over the course of the meal. Memories of Nialyne's life were shared among the elders, with Bolin adding very little, and no one pressing him to do so. Maurar sat quietly as the night wore on, watching Bolin, more often than not, contributing little to the conversation, and eating even less. As the servants cleared the last of the plates, and Bolin made ready to give his excuses and retire for the evening, the elder cleared his throat, drawing the attention of those seated around him.

"You were as a son to her, and as such, forever welcome within these borders." The elder studied the contents of his goblet, a smugness to the tight expression on his face as he rolled his gaze back up to Bolin's. "However, by a general consensus of the elders, that will no longer be the case."

Bolin's mouth dropped wordlessly open. He caught Dain's quick, shocked glance before the Emperor drew his shoulders back and allowed his cold gaze to sweep across those seated at the table. It landed on Maurar with all the weight of a hammer. "You do Danya Nialyne's memory a great disservice."

"If any disservice has been done, it is his," Maurar said, with a jerk of his chin in Bolin's direction. "He failed to keep her from harm's way, and by so doing, has proven himself a traitor to the Greensward."

Someone gasped, and Bolin rose to his feet, his hand dropping to the dagger at his waist.

"Danya Maurar, this is unconscionable," Blyth said, rising from her own chair, face flushed with anger. "Danya Bolin is no traitor to the Greensward, and there has been no consensus of the elders."

"It is no secret where your loyalties lie," Maurar replied. "As you would have undoubtedly not agreed, you were not consulted."

"I would suggest, Danya Maurar, that you take a moment to rethink your words." Dain remained seated, his voice cool, but his eyes blazed like cerulean fire.

Bolin looked around the table at the nine Galysian elders. Outside of Maurar, and Blyth, none would meet his gaze.

"No," he said, keeping his voice low, shock and betrayal warring with outrage. He let his hand fall from the dagger's grip. "If that is truly the wish of the elders, I'll not go against it."

Forcing a bow from the waist, he turned and started away, his fists clenched at his sides. He refused to add to Maurar's desecration of Nialyne's memory.

"You made her weak," Maurar said, practically spitting the words at Bolin's back. "Took from her, and gave nothing in return except death."