Realm of Light (17 page)

“I am not dead. I
am not a ghost. Caelan, look with truth. Don’t let your fear blind you.”

“What is the
truth?” he asked hoarsely, dragging in a breath. “How do you still come to be here?
How are you still alive? Who cares for you? What happened to you?”

“I told you this
is a place of sanctuary.”

“Sanctuary? What
do you mean?”

“A place of
protection. The gentle spirits keep it. Anyone who comes here is safe. I knew
this when I used to play here. You knew it when you left me here.”

“I knew nothing,”
he said savagely. “Except that I abandoned you to starve.”

“You
knew,”
she insisted. “Instinctively, if nothing else. And when you told me to stay
here until you came back, I did. In a way.”

He looked away
angrily. “Impossible! Why do you lie?”

“Why do you refuse
the truth?”

Her words were
gentle; her tone was reasonable. But he couldn’t believe her.

“I’m sorry,” she
said, looking hurt. “I thought you would understand by now. I shouldn’t have approached
you this way. But I was so glad to see you, so happy. After all these years I
had the chance to bring you back to me.”

“I don’t
understand.”

She met his gaze,
and her eyes were clear and guileless. “I wished you to come back to me, and
you did. When I saw that you were coming through the Gate of Sorrows, I—”

“How do you know
about that?” he demanded sharply, his suspicions reawakened. “Unless you are
yourself some vision from the shadow world, how would you know about—”

“How do
you
know what you know?” she countered. “How do you see deeply into the souls of
men, so deeply you find their threads of life? How do you command a warding key
simply by holding it and wishing it to work? How do you walk among demons and
men, known to both? Do you think it is possible that only you can do such
things, when I am your sister, with the same blood and the same heart?”

He stared at her,
letting her words sink in, and felt cold to his marrow. “What are we?” he
asked.

She hesitated a
moment, then said, “We are Choven.”

His mind surged
within him, as though he might almost believe it; then his skepticism crashed
back. “Impossible.”

“Do not fear the
truth.”

He glared at her.
“Choven don’t look like us. They aren’t—”

He broke off
abruptly and didn’t finish his sentence.

Lea’s eyes never
wavered. “They aren’t human?” she finished.

Furious, he said,
“I have been called everything from
casna
to
donare.
But—”

She slapped her
hand against his breastplate loudly enough to silence him. “Hush!” she said,
her blue eyes snapping. “Oh, how angry you make me when you are stubborn. Are
the Choven evil?
Are they?”

He frowned and
reluctantly shook his head.

“They are
mysterious and rarely seen. Does that make them evil?”

He sighed
impatiently. “Of course not.”

“Then do not fear
the truth.”

“But, Lea, I do
not look like any Choven ever seen. Nor do you. We look like our parents. We
were born in E’nonhold, our births witnessed by people who helped bring us up.”

It was her turn to
sigh impatiently. She crossed her arms and began to tap her foot. “Stubborn
and
stupid. You have so many lessons to learn. Will you insist on seeing
only the most obvious explanation? Or can your mind accept alternatives?”

“Explain.”

“I am
trying
to, but you won’t listen to anything.”

Wearily he tipped
his head back against the wall. “I am tired, sister, and beset with worries. My
chief responsibility is the life and safety of the empress sovereign. Make your
words simple and don’t twist my mind with complications.”

“I’m sorry we have
quarreled,” she said, her anger vanishing at once. “Of course you are tired,
but you need not worry. You are safe, and the empress is safe as long as she
stays here.”

“She has little
time,” Caelan said. “The venom—”

“It cannot do its
evil while she lies here.”

He looked into his
sister’s eyes and felt the tension in his body relax. Closing his eyes, he
murmured, “Gault be thanked.”

“Come,” Lea said,
tugging at his sleeve. “You need care. Come and rest.”

He shook free and
slung the end of his cloak across his shoulder. “No, I must guard her—”

“She is safe,
Caelan. No harm can befall her here.”

“Any lurker could
enter the cave—”

“No lurker would
dare come in here. The earth spirits guard us. Nothing without can see the
mouth of the cave. Even if they look directly at it, their eyes are blinded and
they see only dirt and rock.” Lea tilted her golden head and smiled at him.
“Don’t worry so much. Be at peace for a little while, sweet brother. You have
fought for such a long time. Come and take refuge.”

She was right. He
did need rest. He tried to think of how long it had been since the Madruns
overran the palace, and knew he had lost all track of time. But he had been
fighting too long, and he could not fight Lea too.

She drew him back
into the deepest part of the cave, where he had first found her. The emeralds
studding the walls glittered at him, and the air was so warm and sweet he threw
back his cloak.

“Elandra should be
in here.”

“The lady sleeps
well where she is. Do not disturb her,” Lea said. “Sit, and take your rest.”

With a groan, he
sank to the ground and propped himself against the wall. His muscles were
stiffening, and his leg hurt. His armor weighed too much, and he could no
longer resist the spell that Lea cast.

“Rest your mind as
well as your body,” Lea said. “Here.”

He glanced up at
her and blinked, for in her hands were a goblet of mead and a bowl of steaming
soup. He frowned in astonishment. “How?”

“Eat,” she said,
handing the food to him. “Then we will talk.”

It was morning
when he awoke, finding himself covered with a soft fur robe. Tiny dapples of
sunlight filtered in from natural ventilation somewhere. Blinking, he slowly
sat up and looked around. His armor lay nearby, freshly polished and gleaming.
The rips in his crimson cloak had been mended, and the garment itself was
cleaned so well it looked cut from new cloth. A large, decora-tively stitched
leather pouch fitted with a shoulder strap rested beneath his emerald. Smiling
involuntarily to himself, Caelan brushed his fingertips over the surface of the
stone before sliding it into the pouch and slipping the strap over his shoulder
to check the fit. If the emerald continued to grow larger and heavier, he might
soon find himself trying to carry a boulder around. Then what would he do?
Start driving a cart?

But such flippant
thoughts seemed disrespectful. After all, he was a guest in this place; he must
not insult his mysterious hosts, even in his mind.

He wolfed down
fresh, piping hot breakfast cakes stacked on a platter, emptied a mug of spiced
cider, and felt almost renewed.

Running his hand
over the itchy stubble on his jaw, he yawned and stretched as best he could in
the cramped confines of the cave. Slipping through the narrow exit, he returned
to the other cavern where he had left Elandra the night before.

She lay still and
peaceful, as though in sleep, the glowing topaz still clutched in her fingers.

He knelt beside
her, not daring to touch her, and fresh worry filled his heart. Lea had said
she was safe here, but would she slumber forever in this cave, never to emerge?

Someone had combed
the tangles from Elandra’s auburn hair. It lay across her pillow in a shining
fan, and a fur robe covered her to the waist. Her face looked peaceful, no
longer pale and strained. The purple smudges were gone from beneath her eyes.
He studied the thick sweep of her lashes against her cheek and wished he could
somehow impart his strength to her.

“Good morning,”
Lea said.

Startled, he
turned and saw his sister smiling at him. She wore a gown of sky-blue wool
today, and her golden hair had been pinned up in smooth plaits around her head.

Caelan smiled at
her in greeting, hiding his doubts, which had returned, and reluctantly left
Elandra’s side to join his sister.

“Come out,” Lea
said.

Caelan followed
her outside and found the sun bright upon a blinding expanse of fresh snow. The
air was crisp and clean. For a fanciful moment it almost seemed that the trees
bowed to him, but Caelan blinked and dismissed the thought. It was only the
weight of the snow, bending them down.

“It is a beautiful
day,” Lea said, throwing out her hands and whirling about in a little dance
that took her to the edge of the stream. She jumped its narrow expanse—her
skirts flying up to show off the red leather boots she wore—and clapped her
hands from the opposite side. “Come!”

Smiling a little,
he followed where she beckoned, climbing up the opposite bank with his breath
streaming white about his face.

“Where are we
going?” he called after her. “I don’t want to get too far from ...”

His voice died
away as he reached the top of the bank and found himself looking at a herd of
nordeer. The animals were pale and stately, gathered just at the edge of the
clearing.

They peered back
at him, their long, narrow faces solemn as they flicked long ears and chewed
their cud. There were perhaps a dozen of the animals, a tiny herd containing
what looked like an even mixture of does and bucks. The latter carried tall,
racklike antlers with a graceful air of nobility. It was strange that all the
nordeer were of similar size, and each rack of antlers showed an identical
number of points. Caelan had never before seen a herd like this. Usually they
migrated in vast numbers, bunching protectively around the old, weak, and young
ones.

As he stared in
wonder, some of them dropped their heads and pawed the snow for grazing. Caelan
laughed aloud, and their heads snapped back up to look at him. They were alert,
poised as though to leap away, and yet they seemed remarkably unafraid.

Lea was watching
Caelan closely. When he smiled, she did too. “Are they not beautiful?” she
asked.

“Magnificent,” he
said, thrilled by the sight of them. Glimpses of wild nordeer this far south
were rare.

“They came for
you,” Lea said.

His gaze swung
away from the animals, and he frowned at her. “What?”

She pointed, and
he turned to see two shaggy mountain ponies saddled and tied in readiness.

Caelan did not
understand, but he did not want to. He moved back a step. “No.”

“It is time you
learned the truth,” Lea said.

“I can’t leave
Elandra alone here.”

“She won’t be
alone. The spirits guard her.”

Caelan scowled
stubbornly, but Lea did not argue further. Instead, she walked over to the
nearest pony and untied a long, narrow bundle wrapped in bright cloth. Bringing
it back with her, she held it out to Caelan.

He made no move to
take it.

“This is a gift,”
Lea said. “Look at it and you will understand.”

His frown
deepened, but he took the object and stripped away the wrapping. He held a
sword sheathed in a scabbard of beautifully stamped leather. The hilt was
wrapped in gold wire; the guard was carved with strange symbols that seemed to
dance when he looked at them too long. A large square emerald winked from the
end of the hilt. Despite his suspicions, he could not resist the sword.

His hand closed
around the hilt, and it seemed to arch itself into his palm as though alive.
Startled, he tightened his grip and found himself pulling off the scabbard with
a swiftness that made the blade sing quietly.

Its length flashed
in the sunshine like white fire. When he swung it, the blade moved true. It was
perfectly balanced, a thing of joy in his hand. He had never held such a sword,
had never felt so totally attuned to a weapon. It was virgin steel, not yet
bloodied in combat. The edge was honed to razor sharpness, the metal satiny smooth
and lacking any nicks or blemishes. He knew instinctively that he would be the
first warrior to fight with it. Its blade would sing with the strength of his
arm, and no one else’s.

It sang to him
already, a low hum that seemed to vibrate in his very bones. “I am Exoner,” it
told him. “I am true.”

Looking up in
wonder, he found Lea watching him with something like hope in her face. “This
was made especially for me?” he asked, astonished.

“Yes, Caelan. It
was made for you.”

He ran his finger
down the center of the blade, admiring it anew. “Choven steel,” he said aloud,
then frowned.

Lea was nodding.
“You have never held such a weapon before, have you?”

“No.” His mouth
felt suddenly dry, and his heart beat too fast. “Only—only kings carry weapons
that are Choven-forged.”

Lea smiled. “Will
you come now? Please don’t worry about the empress. I promise you she is safe.
We will not be gone long.”

He could protest
no longer. In silence he sheathed the sword and carried it in his hand as he
walked over to the pony waiting for him. Shaggy, sturdy, and unimpressed by
him, it looked at him through its long forelock and snorted.

“Wear the sword,
Caelan,” Lea said, mounting her pony with lithe grace. From a saddlebag she
shook out the folds of a fur-lined cloak the same blue as her gown, and swung
it around her shoulders. “It is yours.”

He stood there,
feeling dazed and witless. The sword seemed so obvious a bribe, yet he found
himself impatient with his own suspicions. It was a magnificent gift,
impossible to refuse. He loved it, heart and soul, and already could not
imagine going anywhere without it. Who would give him such a weapon? What was
wanted in exchange?

“Gifts are free,”
Lea said softly.