The Faithful and the Fallen: Ruin Part 83

'Storm,' Haelan gasped. 'I've found her.'

Haelan stood in the courtyard with the tree root, a small crowd about him.

Corban slipped into the hole, his hand appearing and Gar pa.s.sing him a torch, then Gar disappeared into the hole as well. Haelan heard a m.u.f.fled protest from Corban followed by Gar's flat refusal, then silence. More silence, then a rumbling snarl that mutated into a snapping, slavering growl that made the ground vibrate and Pots whine and hide behind Haelan's legs.

A moment later Gar's head appeared out of the hole and he climbed out.

'Don't think she wants me down there,' Gar said with as much dignity as he could muster as he stood, dusting himself down.

'What about Ban?' Coralen asked.

'Oh, he's fine, Storm's licking him like she hasn't seen him for a moon.'

'And is Storm all right? Has she had cubs?'

'Oh aye,' Gar said. 'She's right as rain. And she's had six cubs. She's even letting Corban touch them. Me, on the other hand, she wanted to rip my head off just for looking at them.'

Tahir pulled Haelan away and looked at him sternly. 'What if you'd got stuck down there?' Tahir asked him.

Haelan knew the shieldman was angry with him, but proud of him too. He'd been brave, and he'd done something no one else had been able to do.

'I didn't, though,' Haelan said.

'What if you had?' Tahir frowned at him.

'Fools worry, the wise do, as your old mam used to say.'

Tahir blinked at him.

'You're getting too clever for your own good,' the shieldman muttered.

Haelan grinned.

CHAPTER SEVENTY-TWO.

FIDELE.

Fidele gazed in wonder at the trees shadowing both sides of the road she was riding on. They dwarfed anything she had ever seen before, thick as a house and high as a tower, their dense layers of branches reaching above and over the road, weaving and interlocking to form a latticed archway above them, weak sunlight occasionally breaking through to dapple the ground with pools of light.

So this is Forn.

It had been a long, hard journey, taking them almost three moons to reach Forn Forest. First they had crossed the Agullas Mountains into Carnutan, then ever northwards, across great plains, through rolling hills and snow-swept valleys until they crossed from Carnutan into Isiltir. A ten-night gone they had reached Mikil, only to find that Nathair had ridden east towards Forn a moon before them. So they followed him. All six thousand of them, give or take the few score that had died along the journey, succ.u.mbing to the bitter cold. She glanced over her shoulder, glimpsed Maquin riding amidst a circle of eagle-guard.

Not him, though. I knew he would not die.

At first Maquin had lain in a wain, semi-conscious and delirious from the pain of his wounds, Alben tending to him while they travelled, but he had been on the back of a horse for over a moon now. Their eyes would meet frequently, though always briefly, both of them mindful of Alben's advice and the charges that she was accused of. They were never allowed close enough to speak, Veradis' eagle-guard rigorous in their duties. Fidele did not mind so much, as she knew the same devotion to duty would keep Lykos and his Vin Thalun away from Maquin.

What they have done to him. She could still see the burns when she closed her eyes, could remember the smell of charred flesh as she'd entered Maquin's chamber back in Jerolin. Not for the first time a swell of rage filled her, coalescing about an image of Lykos in her mind. In it he was smiling at her.

I will see him dead. I will convince Nathair of the Vin Thalun's crimes.

Part of her was desperate for this journey to be over, so that the long-prolonged and avoided justice that Lykos deserved could finally be meted out, but part of her dreaded the journey's end, because then Maquin would stand judgement for his crime, and she could not see any other outcome than death for him, even with the mother of the high king pleading his cause. She felt a fist of worry clench in her belly just at the thought of it.

The road curved, and a building appeared ahead, framed by the arched branches. A grey-stone wall about a squat tower, thick with creeping vine, and beyond it the sound of running water.

We have reached Brikan and the River Rhenus, then. Am I about to see my son finally, after so long?

She was close to the head of the column, riding with the men of Ripa Krelis and Ektor, Alben and Peritus and almost the full strength of their warband, more than eight hundred men. Veradis had suggested he only bring an honour guard, but Krelis had refused. Fidele knew it was because he trusted no one on this journey, not even Veradis.

Even with eight hundred, if the Vin Thalun turned on us we would be sorely outnumbered. And whose side would Veradis stand upon?

Ahead of them Fidele could see Veradis, sat upon a white horse, his young captain Caesus at his side, eagle-guard marching in disciplined ranks behind them.

He has changed, been changed by this war, but there is something I still trust about Veradis, something solid at his core. In truth it was Veradis who gave her a glimmer of hope about the outcome of all of this. He clearly tried his best to remain neutral whenever Fidele spoke to him of Lykos or Maquin, impartial and objective, but she knew, could sense, that deep down he agreed with her. And that he and Maquin shared an old friendship did not hurt.

There is hope. If Nathair will not listen to the counsel of his mother, surely he will listen to that of his oldest and closest friend.

The chamber was high in the tower, a fire and torches crackling both to warm the room and to brighten the constant twilight of the forest; they were only partly successful at both tasks. Fidele sat upon a long bench; an open s.p.a.ce lay before it, then a raised dais, a tall, high-backed chair empty upon it. Beside Fidele sat Krelis, Ektor and Peritus. None of them was in chains or bound in any way, but Fidele felt as if they were captives on trial, with eagle-guard scattered around the room, along with the black-eyed Jehar watching them dispa.s.sionately. There had been hundreds of them in the courtyard of this old giant tower, gathered around a great wain that sat in the courtyard like some brooding beast. Once upon a time the Jehar had made her feel safe, the thought of them about her son comforting her through dark nights of worry for Nathair. Now, though, with their flat black eyes and dead stares, they scared her.

Veradis was also in the room, standing with his back to Fidele beyond the empty chair, staring out of a window at the forest and wide river beyond the tower, the noise of wains creaking, auroch bellowing, whips cracking, drovers yelling orders. Fidele had glimpsed a wide swathe cut into the far side of the forest, beyond a stone bridge. A road cut straight as an arrow through the trees, heading north-east, a steady flow of traffic travelling both ways.

A door creaked open, cold air washing into the room, and Nathair strode in.

My son.

Fidele felt her heart lurch at the sight of him. He had lost weight, making the bones of his face more apparent, and there were shadows under his eyes, though he still walked with purpose and confidence, more, if anything. And beneath it all, still her boy, the child she had held and comforted and laughed with. She took a step towards him and stopped herself.

This is a trial and I must be strong. Be seen to be strong. My son is two people: my son, and the high king of these Banished Lands, as I am two people, his mother, and the regent of Tenebral.

Calidus and the giant Alcyon walked at Nathair's heels, Jehar behind them, moving with the grace and contained power of predators at the top of the food chain.

And behind them all, Lykos, walking with head down, eagleguard either side of him. He was led to the bench Fidele was sitting on and ordered to sit. He did so without any complaint or hesitation. Fidele had never seen him so submissive.

'Mother,' Nathair said, and she looked up. Nathair had paused on his way to the empty chair, was staring at her with a faint smile upon his face. Then she was moving towards him, arms rising to enfold him, but something in his look caused her to falter and she stopped before him. He took her hand and kissed it.

'It is good to see you, Mother,' he said. He gazed into her eyes, studied her face as if he had forgotten what she looked like. 'You have changed.'

'As have you,' she replied. 'We have much to tell one another.'

'And to not tell,' he snorted with a twist of his mouth.

What does that mean?

'Nathair,' Calidus called, a tone in his voice that Fidele had not heard before, and one that she did not like. Commanding. Impatient. She thought of Ektor's chamber of scrolls deep beneath Ripa's tower, of the hints she had read about Ben-Elim and Kadoshim. As she returned to her seat her eyes met Ektor's.

Nathair strode towards the empty chair, saw Veradis and smiled, something of the young man Fidele had bid farewell to returning to his features. The two men embraced, and then Nathair was sitting in the chair, Calidus and Alcyon standing either side, the Jehar spreading behind them.

'We await two more,' Veradis said as Nathair opened his mouth to speak.

'Who is that?' Calidus asked.

'Some strange prisoners I encountered in Tenebral,' Veradis said.

'What?' Lykos now, looking concerned, scared even, staring at Calidus. 'I told you that Calidus must see them privately. They cannot come h-'

The door opened once more, eagle-guard entering first, then the giants Raina and Tain behind them. Iron collars were about their necks, their hands bound.

'Stop!' Calidus shouted, the eagle-guard snapping to a halt, the giants stumbling behind them.

'There was a frozen moment, the whole room staring at Raina and Tain, the two giants looking around the room with disdain at those gathered there.

'Raina?' a voice grated. 'Tain?'

It was Alcyon. His face had drained of all colour, skin as pale as if he'd been dead a ten-night.

Then he smiled.

'Raina, Tain,' he repeated.

'Alcyon,' Raina whispered.

'Get them out of here,' Calidus hissed.

'No,' Alcyon said, taking a step, reaching a hand out.

'Now,' Calidus yelled.

The eagle-guard behind the giants must have tugged on their collars, for they were both jerked backwards.

'No,' Alcyon snarled, reaching for his hammer. Then the strangest thing happened.

He froze, his arm part-raised, then, slowly, tremblingly, he lowered his arm, his face smoothed of all emotion and he pa.s.sively watched Raina and Tain as they were dragged shouting from the room.

The door slammed shut, the giants' cries fading down the corridor.

Calidus said something to Alcyon and the giant took a step back, resuming his position behind Nathair's chair.

Fidele frowned. She noticed that Veradis was looking concerned at the turn of events as well.

'So,' Nathair said, resting his elbows on the arms of his chair and steepling his fingers, appearing as if nothing unusual had just happened. 'Tenebral. Our home. There can be no conflict, no state of war within my own realm. Veradis has spoken to me briefly of the various grievances and accusations between you, but for the sake of clarity I will have him recount the disputes now, for all to hear. Then, if any disagree, they can speak up now. Once we have dealt with this I will not go back to it.' He looked at them all, then nodded to Veradis, who tore his frowning gaze away from the now-mute Alcyon and stepped forward.

Veradis stood between them and began to talk. He spoke of the rebellion within Tenebral, the factors that he thought had contributed the insensitively handled influx of the Vin Thalun and their ways, including the legalizing of fighting-pits, the order of Peritus' execution, the wedding of Fidele to Lykos, clearly unpopular amongst the people of Tenebral, especially so when Fidele's first husband Aquilus had ruled the realm for so long and was a figure of such great popularity and respect. Veradis criticized Lykos' handling of the power given to him, his hasty resort to violence rather than negotiation, his inability to politick.

For a while Veradis' words filled the room, an ebb and flow to them as he recounted the facts as he understood them.

The reality was worse, far, far worse than you even begin to touch upon.

Fidele realized Veradis had stopped talking and was looking at her. He took a deep breath, as if steeling himself for battle.

'Lady Fidele has accused Lykos of terrible things,' Veradis said, 'misuse and abuse of power, manipulation, murder . . .' He paused again, took another deep breath. 'Sorcery.'

'Sorcery?' Calidus said. 'What exactly does that mean?' His mouth twitched as he spoke, a contained smile. 'Specifically?'

'The control of another's mind, and their body,' Veradis said.

He is trying to spare me.

All in the room looked at her now. She felt the desire to leave, to run from the room, to get away from their eyes. I will not feel ashamed. I fought him with all that I am. She raised her head and looked only at Nathair.

'Mother, that is a grave accusation.'

'Accusation? It is no accusation,' she said, feeling her anger stir. She wished she were back in the wild with Maquin, where you faced an enemy face to face with sharp iron, and where you trusted the man at your side. There was a simplicity to that, both appealing and utterly absent in this room. 'It is a statement of fact.'

'Fact?' Calidus said, frowning. 'It is a vague accusation which is open to a mult.i.tude of interpretations. Control of your mind? So Lykos somehow invaded your mind by his sorcerous powers.' There was a sn.i.g.g.e.r to her left.

Lykos.

'And he forced you to do . . . what?'

Fidele just stared at Calidus, at that moment felt an overwhelming hatred for the man. She forced her gaze back upon Nathair.

'I would talk with you of this in private,' she said to her son.

'No, Mother. This must be open. I cannot, will not, be accused of nepotism.'

Fidele closed her eyes, bowed her head. 'Very well then. What I mean when I say that Lykos used sorcery to control me is that he raped me.' She looked away, swallowed, fought the tears. Saying it aloud seemed to give it a new power. She composed herself and looked back to Nathair.

Emotions swept across his face. Outrage. Anger escalating to fury. He glared at Lykos, then his head turned to stare at Calidus, who returned his gaze dispa.s.sionately. The old man said something, too low to hear, and slowly, incrementally, the emotion drained from Nathair's face. He c.o.c.ked his head, as if listening to another voice, then screwed his eyes shut, some kind of internal debate consuming him.

When he opened them he regarded Fidele with a deep sadness, mingled with something else.

Pity?

'Oh, Mother,' Nathair said, and she felt a glimmer of hope that he would now set things right, that justice would be done.