Read Too Many Princes Online

Authors: Deby Fredericks

Too Many Princes (48 page)

DARK REFLECTIONS

 

Brastigan woke up and muffled a groan in his bedroll. A faint glow suffused the rock shelter. Dawn was coming. He didn't greet it gladly. Brastigan's eyes burned, his head felt thick, and there was no part of his body that didn't hurt.

The bitter scent of smoke wafted past. Moving slowly, he sat up. The sky outside was gray as a ring-necked dove. His sluggish mind registered the pine trees, ranged in a black overlay against the frosty glow. Someone stood in silhouette at the cave mouth, crooked horns jutting above. The general form wasn't slender enough to be Yriatt. It must be Ymell.

Even as Brastigan thought this, the man turned toward him.

Good morning,

Ymell remarked. He didn't speak loudly, but it was so quiet that his voice easily carried across the shelter.

Brastigan got up, though he wanted to lie back down. The men had fought hard yesterday. Even Brastigan wasn't selfish enough to wake them before their time. He walked unsteadily to join Ymell at the cave mouth, where sand-filled baggage still stood in a makeshift wall. It appeared even less stable in the daylight. The scorched hillside dropped away on the other side. Only a swath of trampled earth showed where the bone men had come up the slope. No trace remained of the enemy army. The ground had been burned clean.

Beyond the line of blackened trees lay the empty valley of Altannath. The mound rose above it, half dark as soot and half pale as gold. Wisps of smoke still rose from the ruins of the Silletsian camp. Even the emerald lake wore an ashen pall. At least no black wings defaced the lightening sky.


I don't want to sleep, either,

Ymell said, talking almost to himself.

I spent three months asleep, thanks to Ysislaw and his
eppagadrocca.
I think I shall enjoy standing for a while.

Even exhausted and discouraged as he was, Brastigan was too proud to ask how Ysislaw's spell had worked. Most likely, he wouldn't have understood the answer, anyway.


What did you dream about for three months?

Brastigan asked disinterestedly.


I don't remember,

Ymell confessed. Then he asked,

And you?


Nothing,

Brastigan mumbled. No dreams he wanted to remember, anyway.

Not to be put off, Ymell said,

I heard about what happened with the shadow child. That was very unfortunate. I am sorry for your grief.

Brastigan felt his guts tighten with fury. He knew good and well that Yriatt hadn't told her father the story. She considered the girl's life of such low importance. These wizards had no respect for privacy. Always picking out people's thoughts, they were.


As a rule, I do not spy on others,

Ymell corrected gently.

Shaelen told me about it. It wasn't easy for her, being divided from a part of herself. I only wish the circumstances permitted her the time she needs to heal, before we must fight again.

Ymell glanced at Brastigan, perhaps suggesting Shaelen wasn't the only one who needed healing.


Poor Shaelen,

Brastigan mocked. Maybe she was still human enough to feel remorse, but that didn't excuse Yriatt.


My daughter has her pride, I fear,

Ymell went on quietly.

Had I been there, I would have counseled her not to take such a drastic step. But,

he shrugged,

it was my very absence that brought them to this. Alas that we cannot change what is past.

Brastigan stared across the charred valley, rejecting the implied defense. Excuses wouldn't bring the girl back.


There is one thing I must tell you.

Ymell's grave voice interrupted Brastigan's bitter thoughts.

I must warn you to beware Ysislaw.


Really?

Brastigan widened his eyes in a pretense of surprise.

The king of our enemies, the leader of the invasion—you think I should be worried about him?


You misunderstand,

Ymell said, though he smiled faintly.

I have foreseen...


Stop!

Brastigan clapped both hands to his ears.

Don't tell me.

Ymell regarded him with brows raised in surprise. When Brastigan was sure the wizard wouldn't speak, he lowered his hands and prowled along the wall, restless.


You gave my father that

gift

years ago,

Brastigan said over his shoulder.

It changed his life—and not for the better.

Indeed, it seemed to Brastigan that Ymell's foretelling had set Unferth on a long road which led only to grief.

I don't want your prophecy. I'll make my own decisions, not be sent here and there because someone says it's my destiny.


Perhaps you're right,

Ymell replied. If Brastigan's rebuff upset him, it didn't show.

But do heed my warning. Ysislaw will go out of his way to take you if he can. You must be cautious.


To hold me hostage?

Brastigan retorted.

Good luck. I'm, what, thirteenth in line for the throne of Crutham? I don't think he'd have much use for me.


Not to hold you,

Ymell answered seriously.

Merely to slay you. There is reason for him to hate you especially.

Brastigan's mouth twitched.

I've never even met him. I haven't had time to annoy him properly.


But your mother did.

That did make Brastigan turn and look at him. Leithan had been so quiet and gentle, bearing every insult her life offered without a word of complaint. How could she have angered anyone?

Of course, Brastigan had never truly known her. All he had was a child's adoring memory. Only now, having met Yriatt and Ymell, did he recognize the aloofness in Leithan's bearing, the isolation even from her own son.

Ymell looked back at him, perhaps waiting for permission to speak.


Mother wouldn't slap at a flea that bit her.

Brastigan snapped.


She would reject an unworthy suitor,

Ymell replied. Now it was he who looked away from Brastigan.

So Ysislaw had been Leithan's suitor? Brastigan tried to picture a man wooing his mother. Then he tried to imagine the exalted dragons doing anything so earthy as courting. Both times, he failed.


Was that before he conquered her country, or after?

Brastigan asked wryly.

Ymell chuckled, but his mirth was bitter and terribly sad.

Yes,

he said.


Yes, what?

Brastigan was forced to ask.


We dragons have always been divided about the reason for our existence,

Ymell said.

I, and the majority of our kind, believe we have a noble purpose, to guide and protect humans. If we can, we will lead you to greatness.

His voice swelled with sudden vigor, and Brastigan felt his blood quicken in response. Then Ymell's voice dipped and darkened.

Others have held that the only true purpose of any living creature is self-interest. Because of their mighty powers, they believed they had the right to do whatever they wished, even to rule over humans as tyrants.

There was no need to guess which side Ysislaw was on, but Brastigan didn't see what this had to do with Leithan. Why, he wondered irritably, could these wizards never say things plainly?


These latter ones,

Ymell droned, like a tutor lecturing a pupil,

warred against each other and humans. Fortunately, they exterminated each other over time. Of all this evil brood, only Ysislaw now survives. His domain is made up of lands seized from his fellows. The irony of his success is that, despite his vast power and endless life, Ysislaw has no real future.


It's said that we most desire what we cannot have,

Ymell went on.

Ysislaw dreams of a dynasty, eternal conquerors with power enough to bring the world to its knees. He wants the very thing your father has in such plenty: sons.


Well, why not?

Brastigan asked with deliberate callousness.

You seem able to make yourselves into whatever you want. Surely Sillets has women who are willing to be its queen.


We can change ourselves, yes,

Ymell said, a forefinger raised in emphasis,

but only so far. Our horns, you have noted. Those do not change. They are the source and the symbol of our power. If we change our horns, our power is also changed.

Well, that explained why Yriatt took such pride in her horns, dressing them up with jewels and finery. Brastigan cast a skeptical eye on Ymell's horns. From a distance they seemed a smooth, uniform dark brown. Standing so close, he could see streaks of darker and lighter matter. Tiny ridges and grooves followed the curved surfaces in a complicated pattern. Still, they seemed ordinary enough, except that they grew from a man's head.

Then the obvious struck him, and he blurted without thinking,

Mother didn't have any horns.


She did when she was born,

Ymell corrected in a soft, careful tone.


But?

Brastigan pressed. Despite his distrust of all things dragon, he had to know what had happened.


Returning to your previous question,

Ymell said,

Ysislaw can make himself into a human man, and he can enjoy human women, but he can get no offspring on them. Only another dragon could serve that purpose. Our kind are not many, and there are even fewer females. Those there are despise Ysislaw, as my daughters do... did. If he wants an heir, he must capture a bride and keep her. That is what he sought to obtain in Urland. He wanted my Yrien.

Brastigan sucked in a breath, understanding now why Ymell went on at such length about dragon politics and breeding. Leithan had been in the thick of both.


Yriatt dwelt in Verelay, near to me,

Ymell continued,

but Yrien dwelt in Urland. She was born there and had vowed to protect its people. We did not realize how isolated she was, how vulnerable.

His voice trembled with remembered emotion. Brastigan said nothing, but listened and waited.

Ysislaw had massed his troops in several locations. Some were near the border of Urland and Paltey, but the larger group was just to the north of here. We thought that my mound was his target, and the troops in Paltey were merely to keep Yrien's Urulai from riding to my aid.


It wasn't,

Brastigan prodded. He felt anxious to hear more, and yet dreaded the tale.

Ymell nodded slowly, sadly.

Ysislaw waited until Yriatt joined me here, then swept into Urland. Too late, we realized we had been deceived. Even with Yrien's power, the Urulai were overwhelmed. She was forced to flee. That was a long and terrible war.

Ymell trailed off, then said briskly,

I shall not bore you with minutiae. Though she defied him to the end, Yrien was trapped. Ysislaw vowed to make her his bride. At last, when she had no other choice, she did the unthinkable.


She changed her horns,

Brastigan whispered.

Once again, the horned wizard's voice was dark.

My beautiful daughter gave up her great heritage, her horns and her power. All that she was, she put aside. She changed herself completely and became an Urulai woman. Because of Ysislaw,

he hissed with bitter hate.

Thus she denied his desire.

For once, Brastigan was left speechless. What could he say to such a tale—what could anyone say, who was merely human? Only now did he understand, very grudgingly, why Yriatt had been so afraid Ysislaw would find out where she was.

The silence went on too long. Brastigan couldn't bear it. He made himself ask,

What did Ysislaw do?


He tried to kill her, of course,

Ymell said.

Not quickly—he wanted her to suffer in the form she had chosen. He flew with her to a high mountain glacier and threw her into a crevasse. He left her to die in an icy tomb.


But she didn't die,

Brastigan said. Obviously, or he would never have been born.

Ymell nodded.

Although Yrien had given up most of her power, she did not lose all. She was able to warm herself and call out to us. I returned her to her people. She was given a birth ceremony and a new name, Leithan. So I have been told. I was not there.

Brastigan could imagine not. Ymell would have been out looking for Ysislaw, the beast who had maimed his daughter. Any father would, no matter the species. Under his hauberk, Brastigan felt the flat lump of Leithan's
jeup
, hot and sticky against his skin.

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