The Guardian (57 page)

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I saw Ellyn slumped supine as Shara and Nestor faced one another, the air crackling, sparking, as they matched their magicks. I saw all we’d fought for lost did Shara lose this battle. I tasted blood in my mouth as I fought the power of the Vachyn’s foul spell and summoned the waning remnants of my strength to lift my sword and cut at his heel.

It was a sorry stab. A Highlander would have laughed and taken off my hand and slain me. It did little more than prick him, but he shrieked as if it were some great wound, and danced away.

And as he did, Shara smiled and shaped more movements in the air that sent him lurching farther back. I dropped my blade. It felt too heavy, and so I drew my knife and crawled after the Vachyn.

Who scowled and pointed a finger that sent me tumbling across the floor as if a wind caught me up and swept me away even as lightning pierced my chest and should have slain me.

But I had died before, so I lifted my head, for all it ached as if drums beat inside my skull and threatened to burst out my eyes, and laughed at Nestor and said—not believing it—“You cannot kill me. Or her.”

And Nestor said,
“No!
This cannot be!”

And as he was distracted, Shara summoned up her magicks and sent a bolt of light into him that sent him staggering, his robe burning, flames curling around his face.

He flung back power that she deflected, returning her own so that the chamber flickered and shone with alternating brilliance, and Nestor retreated.

I could no longer move. I felt as if all the blood were drained from my body, as if fire ran through the hollow parts of my bones and filled my lungs with flame. My muscles were jelly and I gasped for want of cooling breath and struggled helplessly to rise, to go to Shara’s aid. I saw tapestries burning, and a window explode in glittering shards as magic was flung against magic. Chairs took flame and filled the room with choking smoke. I saw Nestor glance toward a door that was instantly ablaze as Shara sent a spell against the wood to block his escape. Metal fitments melted and ran; a carpet burned. I dragged my head around to find El-lyn, and saw her rubbing at her eyes, a thin spilling of blood painting her cheek where she’d struck the wall. I concentrated all my will as I crawled toward her.

Then Shara cried out and I gasped as I saw her wreathed in fire. Then gasped again, in relief, as the flames died and she stood, albeit unsteady, as she pointed a finger at Nestor and sent him staggering.

He landed against a wall where a tapestry depicting a hunting scene burned, and yelped like a struck dog as sparks fell on him and his weight brought the hanging down in flaming ruin about his body.

He began to scream, flailing beneath the burning cloth, and Shara sagged back as if all her strength, all her power, were gone. Her face was drained and flushed, feverish, her eyes wide as her jaw tensed over gritted teeth. I reached Ellyn—the gods alone knew how, for I was weaker than a newborn babe—and touched her hand.

“Help her!” Was that my voice, that faint and grating plea? “Help her for the gods’ sake. For Chaldor!”

Ellyn groaned and spat blood onto the scorched floor. She braced her legs and pushed upright, leaning against the wall, ignoring the sparks that fell on her. Then she tottered on unsteady legs to Shara’s side and put an arm around the older woman. Shara clutched at her, the one leaning against the other. I was not sure who supported whom, but together they stood upright and faced Nestor.

Who flung off the burning tapestry and snarled like a rabid dog cornered by the catchers.

“You’ve not won yet, sister!”

He raised hands that were blistered and blackened as overroasted meat and thrust them out as he began to voice a spell.

Shara said, “Do as I do. Remember what I’ve taught you,” and Ellyn nodded and they spoke together, and thrust out the hands they did not use to support one another toward Nestor.

It was as if two storms met, all the power of the lightning and the thunder contained within the chamber. What windows were still left intact exploded in flashes of splintering, melted glass and fragments of wood and stone. There was a terrible heat. I felt my hair singed, and saw sections of wall fall free, plaster and stone tumbling in a blazing rain. Fire licked across the ceiling and burning dust fell over me in lung-searing clouds. Chairs and tables were consumed in an instant, falling in thick waves of ashes as I choked and believed that I must surely die again. And this time not rise.

My eyes were clogged, thick with ashes, but through the tears and the pain I saw Nestor falter. I was deafened by the thunder and dazzled by the light, but I saw Shara and Ellyn speak again, and again extend their hands. And then Nestor was wreathed in flame, and stumbled screaming about the chamber.

I believe I heard his last words: “This shall not end it, sister! You’ll answer to our kin for this! The Vachyn shall have their revenge!”

Then I could hear no more, for the thunder filled up my ears and spun my head, and the light dazzled me. But I think I saw Nestor burn, and I was surely grateful for that as I watched a blaze of pure brilliance envelop him and sheathe him in white light, and fade to leave only drifting ashes.

I remember thinking that we’d got our victory. That Ellyn should gain her rightful throne, and Shara lived. But that was all dim and distant as I gave way to pain and the Vachyn’s magicks and closed my eyes as I sank back into oblivion.

E
gor Dival said, “So they’re both dead?”

I nodded. “I put my blade into Talan and slew him. Shara and Ellyn destroyed Nestor.”

“He had no children,” Dival said. “He was the last of the Kedassian line.” Then: “I never liked the Vachyn. I argued with Talan against employing him. I’d sooner fight honestly.”

I shrugged—which pained my aching shoulders—and asked, “So? What shall you do now?”

“What choice have I?” Dival shrugged in turn, but with less hurt. “You took me prisoner—I’m your captive.” He chuckled. “You Highlanders fight well. Far better than Talan or Nestor believed. So, now shall you take off my head?”

I shook mine. “I think it were better we leave you live. Danant shall need a ruler, no?”

He stared at me and asked with mouth agape. “Me?”

“As you say, Talan was the last of the Kedassians. He was not wed—he has no children—so: Who better?”

He stared at me with disbelieving eyes. “You’d not come against Danant? Revenge Andur’s death, our invasion? There’s no blood feud?”

“Shara advises against it,” I said, “and Ellyn agrees.
She’d have you swear treaties, and do you agree, you can go home.”

“With all my men who survive?” Dival shaped a sad smile.

“All of them,” I said. “Swear fealty to Ellyn—that Danant and Chaldor shall not fight again—and we’ve peace.”

“Why?” he asked. “Talan would have slain you. He’d have taken your head as he did Andur’s. He’d have made Ellyn his bride—or slain her. So why?”

“Because you’re not Talan,” I said. “Because you don’t listen to Vachyn whisperings. Because you’re a warrior, and I can trust that. Trust your word.”

“And Ellyn?”

“Do you swear to her,” I said, “she’ll believe you. Should she not?”

“No.” Egor Dival shook his head. “Do I give my word, I keep it.”

“And shall you?”

He said, “Yes!”

N
assim spat liquid tobacco over flagstones already stained with blood. Smoke still drifted from the palace, where shattered windows gaped like the eyes of watchful skulls. Bodies littered the yard, joined by those dragged from the halls. Outside the city, funeral pyres spread smoke across the autumn sky. Crows and ravens gathered along the walls, waiting eagerly for the feasting. He wiped his sword clean and looked to Kerid and the Mother.

“Was it worth it? We’ve given Ellyn back her throne and slain a Vachyn sorcerer. But what shall the Vachyn do now?”

“We had no other choice,” Kerid said. “I gave Gailard my word.”

Mother Hel said, “The Vachyn would have looked to conquer Hel’s Town in time. Perhaps now they’ve learned a lesson.”

Nassim cut a fresh plug and set it in his mouth. Then through his chewing asked, “Think you so? Or have we only annoyed them? So that they’ll come harder against Hel’s Town?”

“We won a great victory,” Kerid said. “The gods know, Danant retreats, and Chaldor’s safe. Talan’s dead, and his Vachyn with him. What more could you ask?”

Nassim shrugged and spat out more tobacco, eliciting a frown from the Mother.

She said, “There’s talk of peace now. Gailard persuades Egor Dival to swear loyalty to Chaldor, and I believe the old man will agree.”

“Then we’ll not be able to take Danant’s vessels.” Nassim sighed. “I was enjoying this war.”

“There shall be others,” Kerid said. “Who knows what the Vachyn sorcerers will do?”

“There’s that,” Nassim allowed.

“I hope not,” the Mother said. “War with the Vachyn? Best hope we become …” She lost her words, staring at Kerid. “That would be a terrible war, no?”

Kerid glanced at Nassim and grinned.

“Surely terrible, Mother.”

E
llyn accepted the chieftains in the throne room of the palace. Her grandfather ducked his knee and swore the fealty of the Dur. Jaime promised the loyalty of the Arran. I swore that the Devyn would always support her. Then Roark pledged the Quan and asked, in front of us all, that she marry him.

She blushed and hesitated a moment before she said, “Yes,” and the chamber rang with cheers, and young Roark blushed red as his bride-to-be.

Then Ellyn looked to me and asked, “Shall you command my army, Gailard? Shall you still be my guardian?”

I smiled and took Shara’s hand as I shook my head. “I shall always be your guardian, do you ask me. But command
of the army … no. I’ve a bellyful of fighting, and I’d go with Shara back to her broch.” I thought to add, “With your leave, my queen.”

“You shall go where you will.” She frowned a moment, but Roark was at her side and the frown did not last long. “But might I …
we
… visit you there?”

“Of course,” Shara said. “And well not leave for a while. There’s much I’d still teach you.”

“My thanks.” Ellyn smiled and nodded. “For everything. But”—she looked to me—“if not you, then who shall command my army? Under my husband, of course?”

“Haldur.” I pushed him forward. “He’s loyal and brave, and the soldiers know him.”

“Shall you?” she asked.

Haldur bent his knee. “I am at my queen’s command.”

“Then that’s settled.” She beamed. “And Kerid—shall you lead my navy?”

“By your leave, no.” Kerid shook his head. At his side, Mother Hel smiled calmly. “I’d go back to Hel’s Town.”

“But know,” the Mother said, “that so long as my pirates sail the river, Chaldor’s shores and ships are safe. And do you need us again, we are at your beck.”

“And my newfound allies?” Ellyn looked to where Egor Dival stood. “Shall they be safe?” By the gods, she learned statecraft readily as she had swordwork.

“Your friends are mine,” the Mother said.

“Excellent. But who shall command my boats? I doubt the Vachyn will leave us alone for long, and whilst we feel secure on land, there’s the question of the river.”

“Might I suggest a name?” Kerid asked. “He’s a fine sailor, and brave. And he’s proven his worth.”

Ellyn nodded regally. Was this the petulant child I’d taken out from Chorym?

“I would suggest,” Kerid said, “that you make Nassim commander of your fleet.”

There came a choking sound then, and Nassim’s face
went pale as he swallowed his plug. He began to back away, but Mother Hel gestured and four of her fish-mailed guardsmen surrounded Nassim and herded him forward.

“Shall you accept this commission?” Ellyn asked. “Be my commander on the Durrakym?”

Nassim belched, wiping at his stained mouth. Kerid nudged him in the ribs; the Mother studied him with speculative eyes. He looked from one to the other, then at Ellyn.

“Me? Command your navy?”

“Yes,” Ellyn said. “You. Do my loyal allies name you, then I’d have you lead my navy.”

Nassim pursed his lips, ready to spit, then thought better of it and ducked his head. “I am honored, my queen.”

Ellyn smiled. “Then we need to discuss the substance of our fleet.”

I saw Mother Hel frown and Kerid begin to grin. I found it hard to stifle my own laughter—the gods knew, but this child learned fast.

“How do you mean?” Nassim asked.

“There are, I believe, numerous craft amongst your fleet that were originally Chaldor’s.” Ellyn favored the Mother with a beam. “Indeed, I understand that Kerid first came to you with Chaldor vessels. Shall you give those back?”

I watched the Mother’s lovely face darken. Kerid whispered in her ear, and her expression grew bright as she laughed. “Those and more,” she promised. “Enough you’ll own a real navy for Nassim to command.”

“My thanks,” Ellyn said graciously. “Now shall we celebrate our victory?”

“It were best,” Shara said, “that you see to your city first.”

I said, “Chorym’s been sore hurt, and her citizens with her. See to them, eh? Then we’ll celebrate.”

Ellyn nodded, taking Roark’s hand. “You’re right. My joy makes me forgetful. Let’s to it then.”