Obsidian (37 page)

Verial was startled. She blinked, wiped her tears, and blinked again. “Gair? Is that really you?”

Gair nodded, trying to think of something to say that would convince her that he was not one of Zyreio’s tricks. “Yes, it’s me. And I praise the name of Kynell, god of the Prysm and of all creation.”

To Gair’s regret, Zyreio did not look put out over his declaration. Instead, he seemed pleased. “See? This is the one you want, the one you’ve been dreaming of. Take her, Gair, with my blessings.”

This was an unexpected strategy. Did Kynell have him march through the Chasmite army just so Zyreio could hand her over?

But Verial was shaking her head. “I love you, Gair,” she said, as simply as if she was telling the time of day. “You’re the only person on earth I’ve ever loved. But you’re not the one I need right now.”

Now Zyreio flinched. “Oh?” he said. “And who do you think you need?”

Verial looked him straight in the eye. “Take me to Kynell.”

The words hung in the air for a moment. Zyreio winked, smiled, and then reached for her. “Kynell? And what do you think Kynell would want with you? It’s not as if you’re the freshest flower in the field, if you know what I mean.”

Tears were streaking her cheeks, but she held her ground. “I just want to see Kynell.”

“You don’t know what you’re asking, sweetheart. He doesn’t want to see you.”

“But I want to see him.”

Zyreio’s face was getting flush with anger. He moved toward her. “How about I take you to the Chasm where you belong?”

But Gair was too quick. In a flash, he thrust his body between them. Zyreio barely touched him before he recoiled in fury. Then he started whining. “Traitors!” he spat. “I’m surrounded by traitors! To the Chasm with both of you! Get out of here! Go find your—” His tirade stopped in mid-sentence. Something else had caught his attention. Gair looked around to see what it was, but to no success.

Zyreio clamped his jaw shut, then clutched his hair and stamped his foot. He looked for all the world like he was about to throw a temper-tantrum. Gair would have laughed at the sight, except that he had learned the hard way not to make light of Obsidian. Second to the Prysm, it was the most powerful force on Rhyvelad. He watched in amusement, though, as Zyreio started marching through the ranks, toward the falling barricade walls.

“Follow him,” Verial said.

“Follow him? Why?”

She did not offer an explanation, but since Kynell had been with them so far, he decided to obey her instructions.

__________

“We must hurry!”

Ragger was keeping up a frightful pace. Munkke-trophes were stronger than they looked, plus they had a long, loping stride that could cover a great deal of ground in a short amount of time. The children were too large to be carried by their smaller guardians, so Lucio and Teehma were forced to run through the trees behind them. Low branches scraped across their faces, but they didn’t have time to assess the damage; every time they stopped for a breath, Ragger outdistanced them by several paces.

“What’s the rush?” Lucio gasped.

Ragger did not answer, nor did he slow down. After an eternity of running, they began to hear the Obsidian army. The wails, cackles, and howls filled the air with ominous familiarity.

“They’re still here, huh?” Teehma panted.

“Hasn’t our side done
anything
?” Lucio asked.

When they could see the glint of the enemy’s weapons, Ragger slowed to a jog. Staying in the trees, he turned west. To even Sirin’s surprise, he did not bother traveling quietly; in fact, he made as much noise as a jogging munkke-trophe could make. The enemy did not seem to notice. From Teehma and Lucio’s perspective, it looked like it was on the move.

They passed through a dense set of trees that, after they climbed over gnarled trunks and branches, deposited them in the woods on the other side of the barricade wall. Teehma noticed with a sinking heart that the army had already pierced that defense. Now it was amassed in what looked like a victory mob on the other side. There was nothing left but a few half-hearted traps between it and the city.

“We are here,” Ragger said, stopping when they were about level with the head of the army. “Now we watch.”

“Watch what?” Sirin snapped. “The city get overtaken by hooligans?”

Ragger shook his head and caught his breath. “Just wait. You will see.”

Lucio and Teehma were only too happy to collapse to the ground. Together, the four of them watched as the Obsidian forces gathered themselves for the final attack.

CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

Ever since they had arrived in the tunnels, N’vonne had had very little contact with the mother of Hull’s children. It was not that she avoided her; it just felt awkward to seek her out. Then halfway through the end of the second day of being underground, Chera walked up to Alisha’s tent, where both N’vonne and Bertrice were playing with the children.

“Lady N’vonne,” Chera said. “May I speak with you a moment?”

Surprised, N’vonne waved her in. “Of course, Chera. Come on in.”

But the Risen One shook her head and remained outside the tent. “If it’s all right, I’d prefer to speak with you in private. No offense,” she added, nodding to Alisha and Bertrice.

N’vonne finished putting the tower on the edifice she and Trint were building. Then she brushed off her hands and rose to her feet. As soon as she stepped out of the tent, Chera led her to a quiet corner, where they stepped beyond the lights marking the edge of the precipice.

“Something’s going to happen soon,” she said in a low voice. Her voice had become intense and not at all soothing.

“What’s going to happen? How do you know?”

“I just do. And I don’t think it’s going to happen as we’ve planned it.” She held up a hand to forestall another question. “There are some things you need to know. First, there is another group coming down. They should be here very soon. Don’t attack them. They are not the enemy. Instead, send a guide to all the main entrance points. Each guide must have to wait at her post for many hours; we don’t know which way they’re coming from.” She took a deep breath, as if checking some inner source for the truth of her next statement. “The second thing is that I don’t think we will be with you for much longer. I don’t know why, but Kynell is going to call us back before we have a chance to protect you.”

N’vonne felt as if she’d been punched in the stomach. “Why would he do such a thing?”

Chera could not hide the tremor in her voice. “I don’t know, N’vonne. I really don’t. The Prysm knows I don’t want to leave. . .” her voice faded for a moment, then returned with fresh vigor. “But we have to trust him. Whatever he is doing is for the good of those who love him. Of that I’m sure.”

Trust seemed the furthest thing from N’vonne’s mind at the moment. How could she trust in the wisdom of taking away their only protectors? What was the point in providing them in the first place? She did not say these things aloud, of course. But for the first time since she had met Hull, she felt hopeless.

Chera was already leading her back to the tents, telling her to make haste. Despite her alarm and anger, N’vonne followed. When they reached Alisha’s tent, Chera took her hand.

“I will talk to the guides. You go to the queen.” Her voice dropped to a whisper. “And may Kynell bless you. Do what you can for my boys.”

N’vonne nodded, unable to respond further. She would have preferred to return to Alisha’s company, but it was impossible to disobey Chera. In truth, she had forgotten about the queen. Lady Quinia had kept to herself since they went underground. Though she refused trepofam duty and would go nowhere near the dining tent, she had condescended to live in a two-room pavilion, keeping only an old male servant who would fetch her meals for her. N’vonne knew she had little interest in the things of Kynell, but Chera was right: she must know of this new development.

As she approached the royal tent, she could see Quinia’s servant out front, tending a boiling kettle. His hair was just a shock of white and he was bent over almost double, but he stirred the contents with the vigor of a younger man.

“Hello, Oren. Is the queen in?”

Oren gave a wrinkly smile and gestured toward the door. “She is resting now, Lady N’vonne. Perhaps you could come another time?”

“If it’s not too much trouble, I need to see her right away. I have some new developments to report.”

Oren nodded, trundling to the door. He gave a low cough, then politely batted at the tent flap with a small paddle. N’vonne couldn’t help but wonder how long it had taken the queen to establish that little arrangement.

“Yes?”

“Forgive me, my queen,” Oren muttered. “Lady N’vonne is here. She says there are new developments which she would like to discuss with you. I believe it is urgent.”

A groan issued from within the tent. “I cannot solve one more debate over dirty dishes, Oren. Tell her that the hosts will just have to take care of it.”

Oren gave N’vonne an “I told you so” look before turning back to the flap. “I believe the dishes are under control, my queen. This appears to be a more pressing matter.”

There was the scrape of a cot from inside. A moment later, the flap was pushed aside, and Quinia appeared, still dressed in her mourning robes. Oren bowed and backed away, leaving the path open for N’vonne.

“Lady N’vonne,” Quinia said. “Please come in.”

N’vonne curtsied then followed her inside. Quinia bade her sit on a little camp stool across from the cot, then produced some fresh bits of melon from who knew where. Only after N’vonne had been obliged to pick one of the treats off of a silver platter did the queen sit herself. N’vonne allowed her host to nibble on some melon before asking permission to speak.

“Yes, of course,” Quinia said sharply. “We can’t play court all day in these canvas prisons, can we? Tell me what has happened.”

N’vonne bit back a reply. Did this woman really think that her royal blood would matter when the Chasmites started choking up the tunnels? Did she not understand that all of her posturing was now nothing more than a game of pretend? She decided to take another piece of melon to cool her temper.

“My queen,” she began, “I have been told by the Risen Ones that we will soon have additional arrivals here at Haven.”

Quinia snorted. “Is that a euphemism for the Chasmites coming to slaughter us?”

“No, my lady. I’ve been told that the next group is friendly, though I don’t know who they are.” She desperately hoped that Telenar and Vancien would be among them, even though their evacuation would indicate the fall of Lascombe.

“So we will have to share our tents? So be it. I suppose we could all do with half-rations at the dining tent.”

N’vonne swallowed. She had never had much regard for Quinia, but now the queen was attaining a new level of shallowness. A quiet voice within her told her to keep her calm and behave. After all, the woman’s world was being turned upside down.

“There is more, my lady. I was given to understand that the protection of the Risen Ones will not always be with us.”

Quinia paused mid-bite. “What do you mean?”

“It is possible that Kynell might remove them from us more quickly than we had hoped. I don’t know when, but I think it will be very soon.”

“And what if the Chasmites find these tunnels?”

N’vonne looked at the dark stone floor, only half-illuminated by Quinia’s candle. Shadows flickered across the granite, covering part of her foot in darkness. “I don’t know what Kynell has in store for us. We must have faith—”

But Quinia cut her off. “Faith! I’ve had enough of that. I’d rather find my protection behind stone walls and the cool steel of a sword. We’ve suffered with these ‘Risen Ones’ as you call them, but they seem ineffective at best. And now they’re leaving us? Relgaré could run a better campaign than this.”

There was nothing more to say. N’vonne had done her duty. She stood, straightened her dress, and asked permission to leave. Quinia was taken aback by her request for such a hasty departure, but she had no objection.

“Fine, fine. I’m sure you have much to do with this new development. Do keep me posted.”

“Yes, my queen.”

__________

Telenar had mixed feelings about whether to evacuate along with the other priests. He had allowed the tide to sweep him away toward Lascombe’s northwest corner, but he had no peace about doing so. He told himself that the best thing he could do now was to pray, and also that he owed it to N’vonne not to throw his life away. After all, a man could pray in the tunnels just as well as anywhere else. To stay in the city alone would be suicide. And, besides, Kynell could raise his hand at any time and stop all of this nonsense.

Yet the Risen One who had told them to evacuate had looked quite grim. She did not say all was lost, but Telenar could read resignation in her eyes. So what was there to pray for? Victory? That seemed laughable. Deliverance? But what if it was Kynell’s will that they all perish?

On top of these misgivings, he could not believe that he was leaving Vancien behind. He would be fine, he told himself. Well, fine in that he was with his brother and Chiyo. But what if Amarian, so recently come to the Prysm, could not withstand the lure of Obsidian? What if Chiyo were to be cut down early, leaving Vancien alone? It was all right to be separated from Vancien if they were in the same city, but to sneak underground while the boy stayed to fight? N’vonne would be furious to hear that he had allowed Vancien to face Zyreio by himself.