The Sword, The Ring And The Chalice - The Sword Part 6

Within its light he felt safe and secure, although he knew they could not linger here much longer. With the children snuggled asleep against him like puppies, Tobeszijian breathed in the scent of them and caressed the tender skin of their faces. He knew he could not keep them with him in the days to come. For he was facing war, and civil war was always the worst and bloodiest kind. On the morrow he would have to ride to the northernmost reaches of Nether, to seek out the hold of Prince Volvn, his best general and the wiliest strategist in the realm. Volvn's loyalty was sure. Or was it? Only yesterday Tobeszijian had planned to enlist the support of Prince Spirin, but the man was a prisoner of Muncel's and in need of rescue himself.

Groaning a little, Tobeszijian clutched his hair in his hands and tried to battle away the overwhelming blackness of his grief. In the past two days he had lost his best friend and his beloved wife. His world had been turned upside down. Tobeszijian wanted to howl like a wounded animal, but as a man he knew he must control the maelstrom of emotions that made his chest ache. He could not think of what had happened, could not remember his dear Nereisse's face, so still and white in death. Instead, he must think of the future, of tomorrow and the next day. He must plan, for to dwell on his loss was to fall into a pit he might not be able to escape.

He had only one more use of the Ring, only one more journey he could take with its magical powers. He must use it wisely and flee to the north. Up by the World's Rim, where the old ways were still honored,he believed he could raise his army. While he would not count on Volvn's loyalty until he stood face-to-face with the valiant warrior, Tobeszijian did not believe that Volvn could be corrupted by Muncel's lies.

From Volvn's stronghold, he would call on the fealty oaths of his n.o.bles and knights, testing to see who was loyal and who had gone over to Muncel. He realized that Cardinal Pernal would try to twist this whole affair into a vicious holy war. With their souls inflamed, men might tend to forget the true issue at stake, which was that Muncel had no rightful claim to the throne he sought.

Tobeszijian reminded himself that he would have to test the eastern holds for treachery. Someone was letting Believers cross into Nether from Gant. If the border fell, Nether would be overrun quickly.

But for now, where to put his young, motherless children? What place held safety for them? Mandria, yes, but it was too far away. Among the eldin, they would have sanctuary, but Tobeszijian understood that if his son spent more than a few months among his mother's people he would be forever changed by their ways and be rendered unacceptable to his future subjects.

Yet perhaps he was already unacceptable. Bowing his head, Tobeszijian recalled days of argument with his counselors, who'd opposed his marriage to Nereisse. It was traditional for the royal family to have a drop of eldin blood in its lineage, but now it seemed there was too much. Faldain was more eld than human. Tobeszijian clenched his fists. That did not matter. The throne was his by birth and by right.

Someday it would be Faldain's. Nothing else was acceptable. But what if this conflict took more than a few months to resolve? He wondered if he should foster the children with a n.o.ble. Yet who could he trust? Then again, it would be madness to keep the children near him, for if his enemies struck again they must not find him and Faldain together, two targets for the taking. Over and over his mind worried at the problem. Nereisse would have known what to do. How he missed her wise advice already. Tobeszijian sighed. Give him an enemy to charge and Mirengard in his hand, and he was fearless and perhaps invincible. Give him shadows and intrigue and betrayal, and he needed guidance to know where and at whom to strike.

He rolled over onto his side, too weary to sleep on the hard ground. The cold sank into his bones and made them ache. He had hidden the Chalice in a safe place. His foremost duty as king had been performed. Now he must think about himself and his future. In the morning, he would use the Ring to take him and the children straight to Prince Volvn. There, he would receive counsel. There, he could make decisions as to what to do next.

A noise awakened Tobeszijian in the dead of night. He awoke with a start, his heart pounding and his senses straining. At first he heard only the soft rumbling of Faldain's snores and Thiatereika's rhythmic breathing. He glanced at the Chalice, and saw it glowing softly within its circle of honor. The noise came again, m.u.f.fled and from outside. This time he recognized the darsteed's grumbling snort.

Astonished, Tobeszijian sat upright. He had not called the darsteed back. For it to return on its own was unbelievable. It wouldn't.

Which meant...

He flung off his cloak and reached for his sword, kneeling hastily before the Chalice. "Show me my path," he prayed, "and I will take it." For a moment there was only silence around him, then a voice came into his mind, very clearly and distinctly: "The children will not be safe in Nether." He blinked, astonished by this communication, and felt sweat beading along his temples. Thod had heard his prayer and answered him. Swiftly Tobeszijian prostrated himself on the ground.

"Great One, I obey," he murmured, then rose. Dry-mouthed and trembling with awe, he shoved aside his spinning thoughts, telling himself he could not think about the ramifications of this warning now. If the children weren't safe in their own land, that meant the treachery was more widespread than he'd believed possible. Civil war was usually long and b.l.o.o.d.y. He might find it difficult to regain his throne. But right now he must act quickly, for danger had come.

He could feel it, waiting somewhere out there in the night. It was not close yet, not as close as the darsteed trampling about in the ravine. But it was coming, as though the Nonkind had been set on his trail again. By whom?

Muncel might be a traitor, but Tobeszijian could not believe his half-brother would embrace the darkness. Something else was at work here, something that Tobeszijian did not as yet understand.

A shiver pa.s.sed through him. Nereisse's vision of him surrounded by a Nonkind horde might yet come true.

But, no, he would not frighten himself with visions and imaginings. He scooped up the children, neither of whom awakened. Going outside, he found the night air bitterly cold. The wind was blowing strongly.

Now and then he felt a spit of moisture on his face, though whether it was rain or sleet he could not tell.

He did not see the darsteed, but he could smell its hot, sulfur stink. When he heard it rustling among the nearby trees, he called it. Reluctantly it came, looming suddenly out of the darkness. With its red eyes glowing in the pitch black, it hissed and blew smoke. Its tail lashed viciously, almost hitting him, and he noticed that the saddle was askew and the armor cloth torn, as though the darsteed had been trying to rid itself of both. Putting the children out of harm's way, Tobeszijian struggled to right the saddle. He had to strike the darsteed's snout twice to keep it from biting him. The stink of its hot breath filled the air, and it snapped and slung its head about as he tightened the cinch.

Breathlessly, Tobeszijian jumped back out of reach, slapping aside another attempted bite. He scooped up the sleeping children without waking them, and started to mount.

A noise in the distance startled Tobeszijian. He froze momentarily in place and strained his ears to listen.

Hissing, the darsteed raised its head and stared intently in the same direction. The king's heart thumped hard beneath his breastplate. Hearing the distant sounds growing louder as they approached, he frowned and turned his face into the wind, squinting against the sleet now falling. It was not hoofbeats he heard, but something quieter, a rhythmic pad-pad-pad, a progressive rustling through thick undergrowth.

Then he saw a flicker of light in the distant trees. Suddenly there came many pinpoints of light, dancing and glimmering through the sleet-torn darkness. Eldin were coming. Relief eased the tension in his shoulders. The darsteed lifted its narrow head and bugled an eager greeting. Frowning, Tobeszijian stepped back from the creature and sent it galloping into the forest, snorting and grumbling, the empty stirrups bouncing against its sides. Turning on his heel, Tobeszijian reentered the little cave, wrapped the sleeping children in his cloak, and left them snuggled beneath the pale white glow of the Chalice's power.

By the time he emerged, the eldin had arrived. Shadowy and only half-visible in the sleet-stung darkness, they filled the bottom of the ravine. Some rode astride beyar mounts, with saddles of crimson leather; most were afoot. A few held their left hands aloft like torches. The flames burning from their fingertips created what was known as fairlight. It should have illuminated the stream and the cave's bramble-shielded mouth, but it seemed dimmer now than when he'd first glimpsed it. He could barely seeany of them. Cautiously, Tobeszijian walked downhill to meet their leader. This eld sat astride a ghostly white beyar with a stripe of gray at its throat. Tobeszijian did not recognize him, but clearly he was an individual of importance. He wore mail made of gold links and a sleeveless tunic of velvet lined with lyng fur. Within the hood of his cloak, a thin gold circlet very similar to Tobeszijian's own crown gleamed on his brow.

Tobeszijian bowed to him in courtesy. "Welcome to my camp," he said, using the old tongue.

The eld's eyes were as pale as stone. They studied Tobeszijian coldly. His face was handsome in the way of his people, lacking a beard, with deep lines grooving either side of his mouth. When he pushed back the hood of his cloak, his ears were revealed to be small and elegant, barely pointed at the tips. He wore a heavy gold ring in the lobe of his right ear. It winked now and then, reflecting the dim fairlight around him.

"I am Asterlain, king of these mountains," the eld said. His voice was clear and musical, with the pure ringing tones of bard crystal. But no lilt or laughter filled that voice. He spoke the old tongue with an accent strange to Tobeszijian, who had learned the language from his eldin mother. "I come seeking Tobeszijian, human king of Nether."

"I am Tobeszijian."

Out in the thicket beyond the small clearing, the darsteed stamped and suddenly bugled.

Its loud voice made Tobeszijian jump, and Asterlain's beyar roared in response, rearing up on its hindquarters and swiping the air with its enormous claws before Asterlain brought it back under control.

Asterlain looked at Tobeszijian. "Why have you brought the Chalice of Eternal Life here?"

Ice encased Tobeszijian's heart. If the eldin knew the Chalice was here, who else had been watching his movements? He sensed evil out there in the dark forest, slinking ever closer, and perhaps listening.

Suddenly he trusted nothing, not even these eldin who had appeared so unexpectedly and oddly just as he was leaving.

"I am here to hunt," he lied warily. He moved his hand casually to his sword hilt. "It is autumn. All who know me know of my custom to range far in search of game and sport."

"Nether has prospered long," Asterlain said, apparently ignoring the lie.

"Without the Chalice, its prosperity will end."

Tobeszijian frowned. "My kingdom is not yet lost," he said sternly. "Perhaps you have heard of my half-brother's ambitions. They are rumors only. Would I go out sporting if aught were amiss with my throne and kingdom?" Asterlain closed his eyes and tilted back his face to sniff the air. Tobeszijian felt pressure pushing against his mind, but he held his thoughts closed. Anger burned in his throat and started throbbing in his temples. Never before had any eld dared to force his mind. The insult tightened his fingers on his sword hilt. After a moment, Asterlain opened his eyes and looked at Tobeszijian once again. His gaze was harsh with frustration. "You lack the skill to protect the Chalice properly. We have come to help you with your preparations." Asterlain is guessing about the Chalice's being here, Tobeszijian thought. He is trying to trick me into confirming his suspicions. Tobeszijian stood frozen, determined to keep every emotion from his face. He no longer believed he was actually facing real eldin.Whoever, whatever Asterlain and his party were, they could not be what they seemed. Although he sensed no taint upon Asterlain, no evil, he could not stop his thoughts from leaping to the next logical suspicion. Shapeshifters, he thought, his heart racing. Yet were they? Unsure, he swallowed hard. "It is unwise to doubt my word, King Asterlain," he replied at last. "I am here to hunt, nothing more."

The eld king tilted his head to one side, causing fairlight to glint off his gold earring. "You are far from your lands and kingdom. Your rights to hunt here do not exist, save by my leave."

"Then do I ask your pardon," Tobeszijian said. "I have offered you a discourtesy, which was not meant."

"Where is the Chalice?" Asterlain asked impatiently. "Nearby surely, for we sense it. Yet where?"

Tobeszijian frowned, and managed to keep his gaze from shifting involuntarily toward the cave's mouth.

Could Asterlain not see the cave? It was not concealed. The briars which grew over it were not thick enough to act as a shield. Had Asterlain not seen Tobeszijian emerge from it in full view? Yet the eld kept on staring at Tobeszijian, his pale eyes intense with frustration. Tobeszijian remembered how as a boy he'd had an ancient, much-beloved hound that went blind in its old age. Tobeszijian would sometimes play a game of standing absolutely still and silent while the dog sniffed and searched for him. Sometimes the old dog would come right to him, but sometimes he would stand only a few feet away, whining in frustration and unable to find his master.

That's the way Asterlain was acting, as though he were somehow blind to the cave's whereabouts.

Obviously he could sense the Chalice's presence, but he could not locate it.

Perhaps, Tobeszijian thought in amazement, the Chalice's own power was concealing it.

From the corner of his eye Tobeszijian gazed warily at the mounted eldin on their beyars. When he did not look directly at them, they seemed indistinct, not quite real. His thoughts brushed toward them, and encountered nothing. They were phantoms only. Illusions. He blinked, his eyes burning, and let his thoughts spin rapidly through several options. He had to find a way to lead Asterlain away from this place. But how?

"Why do you not answer?" Asterlain asked impatiently. "King Tobeszijian, I bid you respond to my questions."

A strange roaring filled Tobeszijian's ears. He could feel the Ring of Solder glowing hotter and hotter on his finger. His heart began to hammer very hard, but some instinct made him keep absolutely still. He said nothing, almost holding his breath, and watched alarm fill Asterlain's eyes. The eldin king looked around as though he could no longer see Tobeszijian. "King Tobeszijian!" he called again, his voice even louder now. The air shimmered around him, and the fairlight burning from his fingertips went out. In that instant Tobeszijian smelled the sickly sweet, decayed stench of the Nonkind. He knew then for certain that he was standing in front of a shapeshifter, the most skilled and powerful one he'd ever encountered. His blood ran cold, and he almost drew his sword to attack the creature. But he stayed motionless, telling himself that to hide this way was sensible, not cowardly. He was outnumbered and on foot. He had his children and the Chalice to protect. It was important to get out of here safely, not fight a battle he was certain to lose. If the Chalice's power was shielding him now, he must work with it as best he could.

Breathing hard, Asterlain hunched atop his beyar. Rage purpled his face and filled his pale eyes with such heat and intensity that Tobeszijian was certain they could drill right through his concealment. Yet as long as he did not move, Asterlain could not see him. Tobeszijian slowed his breathing as much as he could, feeling the seconds drawing out slower and slower until they were agonizing.

"Ashnod curse this place!" Asterlain said furiously, pounding his fist on his thigh. His voice had changed pitch, deepening and growing rougher in tone. No longer did he speak in the old tongue of the eldin, but instead in Gantese. Death stench filled the clearing, polluting the air so heavily that Tobeszijian had to swallow hard several times to keep himself from gagging. Cursing, Asterlain spurred his beyar straight at Tobeszijian, who stood there rooted, his mind spinning with worry. Should he let the beyar ride straight into him? Should he spring aside at the last moment?

Behind Asterlain, the other eldin riders faded into the darkness. The black shadows of night filled the clearing while fairlight vanished and Tobeszijian's lone opponent cursed and searched.

Tobeszijian's fingers were curled knuckle-white around his sword hilt. If he drew now he could slay the beyar and bring down its rider. If he waited it would be too late to step aside.

He stood with his feet rooted to the ground, his heart pounding in his chest, his sweat cold beneath his mail. Have faith in the Chalice, he told himself. By now the beyar was only a pace away from him. It was a ma.s.sive brute, its shoulder nearly as tall as Tobeszijian's. Asterlain sat hunched astride the s.h.a.ggy creature as though in pain. Tobeszijian could hear the shapeshifter's harsh breathing.

The hot, sour stench of the beyar mingled with the corrupt smell of its Nonkind rider. Tobeszijian stared at the long broad muzzle of the beast, at its small, ferocious eyes. Its powerful claws sc.r.a.ped and clattered on the frozen ground, and it grunted steadily, making a savage growling noise that tightened Tobeszijian's guts. He knew that the beyar's claws could rend through his mail, slicing him from gullet to groin in a single blow. By then the shapeshifter would be upon him, or something even worse might come.

Stay still, he told himself, feeling the pressure against his mind return. Stay still.

With a growl, the beyar came within inches of him, then veered slightly and trotted past, close enough to brush Tobeszijian's side with its s.h.a.ggy white fur. Asterlain's toe went right past Tobeszijian's elbow, missing it by less than a breath.

He rode onward, calling Tobeszijian's name and cursing him. Turning around, he came back and brushed past Tobeszijian on the other side. Sleet stung Tobeszijian's face and the cold air sank deep into his bones, but he moved not. He might as well have been carved from stone, the steady warmth from the Ring of Solder on his finger giving him just enough courage to endure while Asterlain cast about, circling the clearing yet again.

Then, from inside the cave, came a child's frightened wail. Asterlain drew rein sharply and wheeled his beyar around. His thin face turned toward the cave, and he listened intently.

Tobeszijian raged inwardly, cursing this creature that hunted him. He wished with all his might that he could warn Thiatereika to be quiet, but his mind could not reach into the thoughts of people.

"My papa!" she wailed, even more loudly than before. "Where are you?" The sound of her crying filled the air beneath the steady rattle of sleet among the trees. Asterlain hissed to himself in satisfaction and started toward the cave.

"No!" Tobeszijian shouted. He drew Mirengard, and its blade flashed light through the darkness as he ran forward. Even as Asterlain was turning around in his crimson saddle, Tobeszijian struck with all the strength of his two arms. Mirengard cut Asterlain in half, separating his head and torso from his hips and legs. A foul black liquid spurted out, splattering the beyar's white fur, and the upper half of Asterlain went tumbling to the ground.

The beyar roared and reared up, and Tobeszijian whistled.

ComeIcomeIcomeIcome! he called with his mind.

Cloven hooves pounded over the frozen ground. As the beyar lunged at Tobeszijian with its deadly claws, the black, scaled darsteed burst from the thicket and struck the beyar's side with its razor-sharp forefeet.

Great gashes opened in the beyar's side. With a roar it turned on the snapping, hissing darsteed and the two creatures joined in battle. Stumbling out of the way, Tobeszijian barely avoided being struck down by the darsteed's lashing tail. With Mirengard still glowing in his hand, he ran up the hill and ducked inside the cave. It was dark. The Chalice's light no longer glowed.

Thiatereika stood just inside the cave's mouth; he would have stumbled right over her had she not been crying.

Stopping in the darkness, with his rapid breathing sounding harsh and loud in his ears, he pulled her into his arms. "Where is your brother?" he asked. "I had a bad dream, my papa," she whimpered, clinging to him. "I dreamed that Mama was dead."

"Hush," he said, carrying her to the back of the cave, where he collected the sleeping Faldain.

"She was taken by people robed in black, my papa," Thiatereika said brokenly, her voice torn with grief. "They took her away!"

His arm tightened around her. "Stop it," he said sharply. "No one is taking your mother away. You are with me. You are safe."

"I want to go home," she wailed, crying again. Faldain woke up and began to cry too. "I'm cold, my papa. I don't like this game anymore. I want Gilda." "Gildie!" Faldain said in shrill agreement.

Tobeszijian knew they were little, knew they were cold and tired and frightened, but he spared no more comfort for either of them as he carried them outside into the bitter night. The sleet was falling even harder. The air was so cold it hurt. He paused at the mouth of the cave and pressed the flat of Mirengard's blade against first one side of the opening and then the other. "In the name of Thod," he intoned, "let this place lie under the protection of the G.o.ds."

Down in the little clearing near the stream, the battle between the beyar and the darsteed had already ended. The beyar lay on its side, its white fur now stained dark. The darsteed was feeding noisily, shaking its lean head viciously now and then to tear off another chunk of raw flesh.

Staying clear of the beast while it ate, Tobeszijian put his children down and pulled free of their clinging hands. Both began to cry again. "Stand there, for just a moment!" he said sharply, his own stress and fatigue making him harsher than he meant to be. "Do as I say!" Thiatereika fell silent, and Faldain pressed his face against her, whining still. Tobeszijian dragged the two halves of Asterlain's body over the frozen ground and tossed them in the shallow stream. A scream rose from Asterlain's dead throat, and Tobeszijian jumped back, stumbling and nearly falling on the bank while he struggled to draw his sword.

But Asterlain did not move. While his corpse lay in running water, it could not resume life. And no other dreadful creature rose to take life from his blood. Tobeszijian stood there on the bank, breathing hard, his eyes staring at the corpse. Gradually he relaxed and let his half-drawn sword slide back into its scabbard.

Relief swept him, and he turned away, hurrying back toward the darsteed.

His head was pounding. His muscles remained knotted with tension. He stumbled, squinting against the sleet, and felt as though he'd stepped into mire and was being pulled down by it.

It was only fatigue, catching up with him. He caught himself wiping the sleet from his face, over and over, his palms scrubbing his skin. His breathing was still rapid and harsh. Now and then he heard a little moan catching in the back of his throat.

Mighty Thod, deliver me from the hands of my enemies, he prayed silently, seeking to find strength enough to hang on. He had fought Gant Nonkind and Believers before, but never alone, on his own, lacking the spells of protection. The fetid smell of death still lingered on the air. Hurrying back to the children, Tobeszijian scooped up Faldain just in time to save him from the darsteed's snapping jaws.

The beast hissed at him, lashing a warning with its tail, but Tobeszijian knew already that it had eaten its fill. It was only protecting its kill now, and halfheartedly at that.

After a couple of tries, Tobeszijian managed to dart close enough to grab the dangling reins. He pulled the darsteed around, controlling its desire to strike at him.

"No!" Thiatereika shrieked when her father reached for her. She stamped her foot, her small cloak gusting in the wind. "I don't want to ride anymore! I want Gilda! I want to go home."

Ignoring her protests, he picked her up and set her and Faldain in front of the saddle.

The darsteed whipped its head around and bit Tobeszijian in his side, just above his hip. The creature's fangs glanced off the bottom rim of his breastplate, denting the metal but not piercing it. Still, the attack was vicious enough to knock Tobeszijian against the beast's side.

Gasping with pain, he gripped the stirrup to keep his balance while the darsteed bugled with fury and tried to swing away from him.

Desperately Tobeszijian kept hold of stirrup and reins, knowing he could not let the darsteed run away with the children on its back. It would shake them off and eat them. Furious himself, he struck the beast with his thoughts, but its mind was a red-hot ma.s.s, una.s.sailable for the first time since its capture.

Astonished, Tobeszijian staggered, nearly losing his footing as he grappled to keep his hold on the reins.

The darsteed reared high above him, deadly forefeet striking out. Tobeszijian dodged, and the darsteed yanked away from him. One of the reins snapped in two with a tw.a.n.g.

Tobeszijian feinted and moved with the beast, trying to stay out of striking range without losing his last, tenuous hold on the remaining rein. Drawing his dagger, he dodged another attempt to bite him and struck hard and precisely, plunging his dagger deep into the web of muscle between the darsteed's shoulder and ribs. The animal screamed and blew fire. Thiatereika was crying now, screaming to get off. Clinging to the darsteed's neck like a tiny burr, Faldain uttered no sound. "Hang on!" Tobeszijian told them as he dodged the flames. Fire scorched his cheek, and the pain sent him stumbling back. He would have fallen had the darsteed not dragged him. Its frenzied attempt to pull away lifted Tobeszijian back on his feet.

Cursing, he fought the animal, which was bleeding heavily and moaning.

But its pain distracted it enough for him to reestablish control.

StandIstandIstandIstand, he commanded it.

The darsteed snorted and obeyed him. In that moment, Tobeszijian mounted and jammed his feet firmly in the stirrups. The darsteed reared, trying to brush him off under some tree limbs. Thiatereika cried out and nearly toppled to the ground, but Tobeszijian's arm encircled her and her brother, keeping them snug against him. The darsteed tried to rear again, but Tobeszijian jabbed it cruelly with his spurs, startling it into a weak buck instead.

Snorting flames, the darsteed shook its head in fury, but Tobeszijian leaned over and pulled out his dagger from its side. Blood spurted across his hand, burning where it splattered.

The darsteed bellowed in pain and stumbled, but he had control of it now. GoIgoIgoIgo, Tobeszijian commanded, and the beast lurched into a stumbling gallop.

Struggling to guide it with only one rein, Tobeszijian tried to find his bearings in the darkness. The sleet soaked through his surcoat and seeped between the links of his mail. He felt chilled to the bone. The wet saddle under his thighs made him colder. Tobeszijian pulled up the children's hoods and tried to cover them with the folds of his cloak. The night was too raw for traveling, but even as he caught himself longing to be safe indoors by a warm fire, the wind shifted and his nostrils caught a stink of something rotten.

More Nonkind were coming. He choked a moment in new alarm, then fear iced his veins.

The darsteed bugled eagerly until Tobeszijian forced it to be silent. In the sudden quiet, Tobeszijian heard an unworldly howl close by, and his heart skipped a beat. He knew the hunting cry of a hurlhound all too well. Thanks to the rebellion of the darsteed, they'd been delayed long enough for the hurlhound to catch up with them.

What next? Tobeszijian asked himself wearily, then shook off his weakness. Fiercely, he glanced at the hillside on his right. The howl had come from somewhere up there. The hurlhound was close enough to reach him in a few minutes. Already his ears picked up the sound of its crashing progress as it descended through the undergrowth.