Crown of Vengeance (Dragon Prophecy) (82 page)

We live.

*   *   *

He passed the War Princes as they rode toward whatever remained of Vieliessar Farcarinon’s army. They paid no attention to him; he was just another filthy, exhausted warrior making his way to camp. They rode without armor or escort, and Runacarendalur knew then that Vieliessar had won. The War Princes were riding to surrender. He did not see his father among them. Perhaps he was dead. Perhaps they’d slain him when they saw what Ivrulion had done.

He should ride after them—ask—claim Caerthalien if Bolecthindial was dead. But what then? He could not bear the thought of kneeling to Vieliessar and offering her Caerthalien’s fealty, and his.

He could not bear the thought of taking her as his Bondmate.

The encampment seemed utterly deserted, the sight of his own pavilion like something out of another lifetime. Slowly and stiffly he slipped from Bentrain’s back; the destrier stood wearily, head hanging. He looped the animal’s reins over the saddle and patted him on the shoulder. “Go find someone to take care of you,” he said. “You deserve it.”

As if he understood, Bentrain sighed gustily and began walking slowly toward the horselines. Runacarendalur entered his pavilion. It was deserted, but there was food and drink laid out on the table, and a bowl of washing water stood beside Runacarendalur’s favorite chair. He wondered who had left it for him.

He poured a tankard full of weak beer and drained it twice before he began the long work of removing his armor. It was sheer bliss to unlace his aketon and peel it away from his bruised and sweat-fouled skin. He sopped one of the cloths waiting neatly folded beside the washing bowl, and scrubbed himself as clean as he could.

I am Prince Runacarendalur of Caerthalien,
he told himself.
Caerthalien, greatest of the High Houses.

He shook his head. No longer. There were no more High Houses. Vieliessar had won. And whether she had summoned her victory by fair means or foul, he knew he could not stay to see it. With dragging steps he walked through the curtain into his sleeping chamber. Boots, trousers, tunic, the heavy stormcloak he hadn’t worn on the field. It took him a long and aching while to fumble his way into his clothes. He left the tray of his jewels untouched.

When he walked back into the outer chamber, Helecanth was waiting for him. She’d removed her helmet; her face was bruised from the blows she’d taken in battle.

“My lord,” she said.

Runacarendalur laughed jaggedly. “Did you not know? We have a High King now, and she means us to be done with lords and vassals.”

“You will always be my true lord, Runacarendalur Caerthalien,” Helecanth answered.

Even though he’d half suspected it, to hear himself named War Prince of Caerthalien was like a blow to his chest. He shook his head mutely, reaching for his sword. It lay propped against the chair where he’d left it.

Helecanth stepped forward quickly to pick it up, then stepped forward to arm him. He stopped her for just long enough to slip the ornamental buckle with Caerthalien’s device from the baldric, then stood quietly as she buckled it into place.

“Where do we ride, my lord?” she asked when she was done.

“No.” His tongue and his mind were thick with exhaustion; he struggled to make himself clear. “I go into outlawry. I will not kneel to a High King.”

“Then Caerthalien fights beside you,” Helecanth said steadily.

“Do you think I mean to take my House into useless rebellion?” Runacarendalur said. “I go because the High King is my destined Bondmate—”

His words stumbled to a stop as he heard what he’d said.
Ivrulion is dead. The
geasa
he set upon me is broken.
Once he’d yearned for this moment, for his freedom. Now it seemed a distant and trivial thing.

“She is my Bondmate,” he repeated. “But I reject her, and I reject her kingship. All I ask is that I may never hear the name of Vieliessar High King again.” He closed his eyes in weariness. “Stay, Helecanth. They will need you.”

“As you have ordered it, I will obey,” Helecanth said. “But you will need a good horse. Come.”

Numbly Runacarendalur followed as she led him from his pavilion. The weight of the sword upon his hip was the only familiar thing. Helecanth led him to the tiny paddock in the middle of the Caerthalien precinct where horses were held saddled and ready for Caerthalien’s great nobles. Helecanth’s Rochonan was there, muddy, blood-spattered, and weary—and beside her waited another mare. A pale grey palfrey, fresh and alert. Her saddle leather and her bridle were both deep green, the saddle stamped in gold with the three stars of Caerthalien.
I suppose my brother won’t need her now.

“Thank you,” Runacarendalur said. “You have been a good— You have been a good friend to me, Helecanth.”

“It has been a privilege to serve you, my lord,” Helecanth answered gravely.

Runacarendalur walked over to the mare. She nuzzled at his chest, obviously hoping for treats. He stroked her nose in mute apology, and with a grunt of effort, thrust his foot into her waiting stirrup and swung into the saddle.
She was Ivrulion’s, and I do not even remember her name.…

“Fare you well, Lady Helecanth,” he said.

“Sword and Star defend you, Lord Runacarendalur,” Helecanth answered. She nodded once—as if some question had at last been answered—and turned and walked away.

Nielriel. That is her name. Nielriel.

Runacarendalur pulled the hood of his cloak up to cover as much of his face as he could, and turned Nielriel’s head westward. In the distance lay the forest the army had crossed to reach the place of its destruction—trackless, unmapped. It would conceal him. Where he went then, he did not care. There was nothing left for him in the Fortunate Lands, but the forest would be a good place to hide.

Also by
MERCEDES LACKEY
and
JAMES MALLORY

T
HE
O
BSIDIAN
T
RILOGY

The Outstretched Shadow

To Light a Candle

When Darkness Falls

T
HE
E
NDURING
F
LAME

The Phoenix Unchained

The Phoenix Endangered

The Phoenix Transformed

ALSO BY JAMES MALLORY

Merlin: The Old Magic

Merlin: The King’s Wizard

Merlin: The End of Magic

TOR BOOKS BY MERCEDES LACKEY

Firebird

Sacred Ground

D
IANA
T
REGARDE
N
OVELS

Burning Water

Children of the Night

Jinx High

T
HE
H
ALFBLOOD
C
HRONICLES

(written with Andre Norton)

The Elvenbane

Elvenblood

Elvenborn

ABOUT THE AUTHORS

Mercedes Lackey and James Mallory have written the Enduring Flame trilogy, which includes the
New York Times
bestseller
The Phoenix Transformed,
and the Obsidian Mountain trilogy:
The Outstretched Shadow,
named Best Science Fiction, Fantasy, and Horror by
VOYA; To Light a Candle, a USA Today
bestseller; and
When Darkness Falls, a New York Times
bestseller. Lackey lives in Claremore, Oklahoma. Mallory lives in Baltimore, Maryland.

This is a work of fiction. All of the characters, organizations, and events portrayed in this novel are either products of the authors’ imaginations or are used fictitiously.

CROWN OF VENGEANCE

Copyright © 2012 by Mercedes Lackey and James Mallory

All rights reserved.

Cover art by Todd Lockwood

Map by Jon Lansberg

A Tor Book

Published by Tom Doherty Associates, LLC

175 Fifth Avenue

New York, NY 10010

www.tor-forge.com

Tor
®
is a registered trademark of Tom Doherty Associates, LLC.

The Library of Congress has cataloged the print edition as follows:

Lackey, Mercedes.

   Crown of vengeance / Mercedes Lackey and James Mallory. —1st ed.

         p.  cm.

   “A Tom Doherty Associates book.”

   ISBN 978-0-7653-2438-2 (hardcover)

   ISBN 978-1-4299-9286-2 (e-book)

 I.  Mallory, James.   II.  Title.

   PS3562.A246C76 2012

   813'.54—dc23

2012024534

e-ISBN 9781429992862

First Edition: November 2012