Duty (Book 2) (36 page)

“I want him with me,” the Chalaine declared resolutely, a sudden understanding coming to her. “I have no need to kill the Ilch. You have done it for me. He is Gen, my Protector. He has done more in my service than any other man, and if there ever came a day when he would feel to destroy me, then I doubt I would have much reason to live.”

Sore and Sarina stared at her for many moments, but their confident, noble demeanor had changed to one of doubt and even a little fear. Aldemar, who watched silently, spoke words in the tongue of the Millim Eri, and Sore and Sarina nodded their agreement.

“What did you say?” she asked, annoyed that they were hiding things from her.

“I apologize, Chalaine,” Aldemar soothed. “I will simply say that our people have brought trouble to Ki’Hal by meddling before.”

“That you care for this man troubles us,” Sore confessed. “For if you care for Gen, can you still love the Ha’Ulrich? Would he love you?”

The Chalaine’s face scrunched with displeasure. “Have you meddled so much and yet know nothing of Chertanne?” she answered, feeling upset and ill-used. “It is beyond reason to think anyone as indecent as he is could love anyone other than himself, or that anyone decent could ever love anyone like him.”

Sarina frowned. “We have known of his character, and it grieves us. He was hidden away from our watch and our influence until recently. We have hoped, however, that hardship would turn him from his selfishness and set him on the path of his duty. Much depends on him.”

“Yes, much. I, too, could hope he would change, but I cannot see that he will. How shall we win on the field that day if Chertanne remains as he is, weak and selfish?”

“You are the Healer,” Sarina offered. “Perhaps your greatest challenge will be to work your arts on a diseased soul.”

“I have no power over men’s souls to heal or help them,” the Chalaine argued. “And time is short to change such a wayward heart. I think your meddling will come to naught. It would have been better for Gen to have killed me than for Chertanne and I to march headlong into failure. What am I to do?”

Aldemar stepped forward and placed his hands on her shoulders, locking her gaze to his. “Your Child must be born. There is hope there, no matter how despicable Chertanne may be to you now.”

Despair flooded the Chalaine’s heart. “Then lend me strength to do what I must, if it is in your power to give it!”

“I can only give you this,” Aldemar whispered. “Here is wisdom: never do in duty’s name what cannot be done in love. If you but obey this one thing, then nothing more is required of you to do your part. It is what Eldaloth taught. It is all that he would have you do. Remember it well.”

Aldemar turned to his companions. “Sore, take Gen, and I shall convey the Chalaine.”

Before the Chalaine could ask one of a hundred questions, Aldemar flourished his robe around her, and she remembered no more.

She awoke to the sound of softly running water, calmer than the constant roar of rapids and waterfalls she had traveled by for the last few days. She stirred and opened her eyes, noticing by the deep blue color of the sky and the wisps of clouds that the day had passed to evening. The western edges of the shards sailing above were gilded with the oranges of the setting sun.

Shaking off a mental fog, she sat up to find Gen. He lay unconscious nearby, and at his side sat Maewen, legs crossed. Her travel gear and weapons sat off to one side, including a nearly spent quiver. A gash puckered red and angry on her face, and blood from a wound on her arm soaked through a bandage she had fashioned from a piece of her cloak.

“Good evening, Chalaine,” Maewen greeted her without looking up from an arrow she was fletching. “It is good to see you alive and well. It seems you’ve come through this in better shape than most. Gen does not fare so well as you, I’m afraid.”

The Chalaine stood and straightened her veil, taking stock of herself and the surroundings. The river ran wide and shallow, reflecting the soft sunset. The Millim Eri had left them on a quiet, shallow beach on the lee side of a low, tree-covered hill. The Chalaline crossed to Gen and saw the reason for Maewen’s concern. Sweat beaded on his pale, haggard face.

“He has a fever,” Maewen reported. “I’ve tried to wake him, but to no avail. Has he been well? Was he hurt?”

“He was hurt, but I healed it. He passed through much toil and has hardly slept since the battle. What of my Mother and Fenna? What happened? Are they alive?”

“I will tell you the full tale when we get moving. Suffice it to say that Fenna and your mother live, as do Chertanne and others. They are not far from this place. But first, can you do something for Gen? I doubt we can carry him any great distance.”

The Chalaine knelt by him and closed her eyes, trying to give the impression that she expended effort. She touched him, and his color and breathing improved for a moment, but when she broke contact, his condition remained unchanged. She could find no sickness or illness in him in the way she was accustomed to sensing them. Puzzled, she opened her eyes, finding Maewen watching her intently.

“Is something wrong?”

“I can’t find any injury or sickness in him,” the Chalaine explained. Maewen wrinkled her brow and the Chalaine crossed to her. “I see you have some injuries. Let me heal them.”

“Save your strength; they are nothing to be concerned about.”

“You and Gen are insufferable,” the Chalaine chided irritably, ignoring Maewen’s objections. “You would think you two enjoyed being injured.”

“I just don’t wish to trouble you. There are others in more desperate need of your aid in the camp, or what’s left of it.”

“I think you are both proud of the little scratches and scars you get.”

The Chalaine took Maewen’s hand and concentrated. The injuries were not deep, but a couple had started to fester despite the half-elf’s herb craft. It took little effort to heal them.

Maewen thanked her and removed the bandages. “Wounds are to the warrior what wisdom is to the wanderer. I will fashion a litter for Gen, if there is nothing else you can do for him. His condition worries me.”

The Chalaine took his hand again. ”Gen! Wake up!” she said. “We’re out of the canyon.”

He stirred, and she released his hand as his eyes fluttered open. He slowly rose to his feet and examined his surroundings carefully, disorientation evident on his face.

“Chalaine? And Maewen? Where are we? What happened? We were walking through the hall and . . . how did I get here?”

“I do not know for sure,” the Chalaine replied truthfully. “The same thing happened to me.”

“Where are we, Maewen? Did others survive?”

Relief overspread Maewen’s face to see Gen up and about, though he still appeared sickly and unsteady. “Let’s walk, and I’ll tell you as we go. Dark falls soon, but the road to Elde Luri Mora and your companions is close and easy to follow. It wasn’t nearly so pronounced last year. The city awakes and invites us.”

Maewen led out downriver, the Chalaine following and Gen taking up the rear. Knee-high grass grew between the trees, and the sound of crickets and birds filled the air with evening song. The breeze turned cooler as the sun sank, oranges and purples wavering in the river pools.

“As you probably know,” Maewen began once they had gone several hundred yards, “the evening of the ambush I left to scout as everyone set to eating. Once I crested the hill and saw what lay in wait, I turned to run back but was forced to hide myself from two full companies of Uyumaak passing by me on either side, preparing to flank the caravan. A few minutes later, they unleashed the giant, but I couldn’t move for fear of discovery.

“Once the abomination fell, the Uyumaak streamed over the hill, outnumbering us three or four to one. I picked at them from behind until I could win my way to the main force. Those who could not fight or who were important to the mission fled down the road as the fighters and Magicians stayed behind to delay them enough to escape.

“The road was held against the fliers, however, and they had to retreat while the main force of soldiers split. Shadan Khairn led a body of men against the Uyumaak on the road. I’ve never seen a man wield the sword like he does. He and a score of soldiers won their way through the blockade, allowing Chertanne, Mirelle, the Pontiff, and others to escape. Khairn did not come, however, returning to fight with his men.”

“What of Fenna?” Gen interrupted.

“She is alive, Gen. Geoff braved the Uyumaak attack to gather a horse and ride her down the road to safety. He suffered a broken arm from an Uyumaak club, but he still seems jubilant and has already begun composing a song about the whole affair. I’m sure once the Chalaine heals him, he will favor us with it.”

“Who are we missing? How many soldiers left?” Gen asked.

“None of the Magicians, including Ethris, have shown up yet. Khairn, Tolbrook, and half the Dark Guard and their apprentices are also missing. If I counted right, we have sixteen fighting men left, and that’s including the three Dark Guard that came with us and their apprentices. The Pontiff lives, as does Padra Athan. Jaron lives but suffered several broken ribs and a sprain or two. One of the Dark Guard threw him over a horse during the escape.

“It was through Jaron’s and Dason’s brands that we knew the Chalaine survived the drop over the falls and was progressing through the canyon. We surmised that you, Gen, survived if the Chalaine had. We made camp near a ford in the river two days ago. It is close to Elde Luri Mora, and Chertanne and all but the Dark Guard have entered it already for their protection. Athan persuaded Dason to accompany them to Elde Luri Mora to aid in Chertanne’s protection, but Mirelle, Fenna, and the rest of the Dark Guard refused to leave until you were found. I’ve been exploring the area near the river, seeing if I could find a way up the canyon. It is impossible.”

“How far to the camp?” Gen inquired, voice weary.

“We will arrive in two hours time if we can keep this pace.”

And keep it they did, finding the road before full dark. Despite the road’s age, the stones spread before them even and smooth, providing easy walking compared to the tangles of the canyon. The two moons provided ample light to see the way. A dense net of stars and shards emerged in the darkening sky, and the thought that she would see her mother and Fenna soon infused the Chalaine with energy. They talked little as they walked, Maewen telling them to save their tale until all could hear so as not to waste breath on telling it twice.

“Stand fast!” a voice barked from the darkness. The Chalaine startled, coming out of deep thought. A bending bow creaked. “Identify yourselves.”

“It is Maewen. I have returned with the Chalaine. And Gen.”

“Thank Eldaloth!" the sentry said. "Shall I send a runner back?”

“No,” Maewen said. “Use what men you have to keep a watch on this road. We left a lot of Uyumaak alive behind us a few days ago.”

They continued on for some minutes longer before the Chalaine could make out a huddled group of bodies just off the road in the dark. They risked no fire. The soldiers came on their guard, but Fenna streaked by to hug Gen almost before Maewen could tell the men to stand down. And then her mother was there, and the Chalaine came into her arms and cried. Fenna wept as well. Reluctantly, she let her mother disengage from her as she went to Gen.

“My turn, Fenna,” the First Mother said. Fenna laughed and stepped back as Mirelle gave Gen an affectionate embrace. The Chalaine was relieved to see Cadaen come up behind.

“You are better than a son to me,” she said, stepping back and placing a hand on his cheek. “I owe you everything. Thank you for bringing my daughter back to me.”

“It is my pleasure to serve you and the Chalaine,” Gen stated, inclining his head.

“But you are warm,” Mirelle observed. “Are you well?”

“Just heat from walking,” he answered as Fenna came up from behind him and wrapped her arms around him, laying her head on his shoulder.

“And,” the Chalaine added, “he labored hard to get me through the canyon. He barely slept. He needs rest and a caring hand.”

“I am fine,” Gen contradicted. “I am rested enough to watch through the night.”

“No!” one of the Dark Guard protested. “We have been at camp two days and will watch for you. You have earned the sleep.”

“When one of you can kill me, you can take my watch,” Gen replied flatly. “It is my duty, and I am fit to do it.” His tone left no room for argument. The Chalaine considered protesting but thought better of it.

“None of us will sleep until we hear the tale,” Mirelle prompted.

“Gen can tell the tale,” the Chalaine said. “I will see to the healing of the wounded.”

The Chalaline moved around the camp, tending to Jaron first, his injuries the most serious. Gen’s voice, soft and deep in the darkness, told the tale with only the bare particulars, leaving out her unveiling and any mention of their conversations. In fact, the way he told it made her think he didn’t enjoy their time together at all, for which she was thankful and angry at the same time.

Everyone expressed concern over their strange experience in the cave and their resulting appearance miles downriver. Maewen expressed a wish to find the cave and the gazebos again once time permitted, and Fenna seconded her desire, mainly to please Gen, the Chalaine thought.

“I wish Ethris were here,” her mother lamented. “We need those facts he has stuffed up in that mind of his. Let’s all get some rest. Tomorrow we see Elde Luri Mora and the Hall of Three Moons. Tomorrow is the real beginning.”

The Chalaine lay next to her mother on a single blanket provisioned for her use. Gen sat nearby, Fenna leaning on him. Jaron and the remaining Dark Guard congratulated Gen for his bravery at the falls and for leading the Chalaine through the canyon. The Chalaine tried to sleep, but even an hour later when Fenna settled in at her side, she couldn’t. She was awake when Maewen talked to Gen at some length in Elvish, questioning him, as far as she could tell. The Chalaine wondered what he confided in her.

She finally managed to nod off, but when dawn pried her eyes open her head felt full of sand and her eyes hurt. Seeing Gen in full sunlight shocked her. His pallid skin and dark-rimmed eyes gave him an evil mien, and Fenna went to him immediately, feeling his forehead.

“Chalaine!” she exclaimed, “He is sick! Can you do something for him?” The Chalaine hesitated. She had tried before and failed.

“Do not bother the Chalaine with this trifling illness,” Gen told her handmaiden, taking her hand. “If we get to Elde Luri Mora, then she may make an attempt. Until then, she should save her strength for any other dangers along the way. I will be fine.”

“We should not encounter any more of the enemy ahead of us,” Maewen explained as she donned her gear. “I believe the Uyumaak are behind us, and, as creatures of Mikkik, I doubt they will or are able to come much closer than this to the city.”

And then the Chalaine understood. Gen was one of Mikkik’s creatures, as well. The holy city rejected him to spite his maker. The Chalaine thought hard as Jaron helped her onto a horse with her mother. Gen rode with Fenna, and Maewen led out, sprinting east into the rising sun. The road led through gentle green hills covered with large, mature trees. Deer regarded them briefly before loping away, and beautiful birdsong serenaded them in the early morning light. To their left the river ran wide and quiet, emerald in color.