Shadow Magic (30 page)

On the ridge overlooking the battlefield, a pillar of light rose toward the sky. It grew brighter and brighter, and the very walls of the ravine itself seemed to glow in response. Light exploded in the pass, sweeping away the dark spells of the Shadow-born. A wind sprang up, blowing off the ridge, wiping away the last shreds of the veil of misery.

The Shadow-born vanished, leaving fifteen black horses standing riderless in the center of the Lithmern army. Even the clouds began to break up and dissipate. The Lithmern gave a cry of dismay that turned quickly to terror as the black wall that held back the avalanche grew insubstantial, faded, disappeared.

With a grinding roar, half a mile of stone collapsed into the pass, blocking it completely and wiping out over half the Lithmern army with one stroke. The noise of its falling drowned the screams of the men it caught and the sounds of battle alike. As the echoes died, the Alkyrans surged forward. The remaining Lithmern were trapped against the newly fallen rock, and they knew it. Some tried to flee toward the sides of the pass, but the archers cut them down. The main body of Lithmern, however, chose to fight, and they attacked with the desperation of men who know that they have no other hope of life.

Maurin fought with a fierce joy. He did not know how it had happened, but the Shadow-born were gone and the Lithmern no longer outnumbered the allies. More, Alethia was alive; the knowledge sang through him as he fought. He led the attack on the last of the Lithmern, who had managed to barricade themselves between the cliff and the rock slide, and he accepted their surrender at the end. Only then did he go to look for Alethia.

Not content with merely binding the creatures, Alethia wove a net of spells into the rock, drawing recklessly on the huge store of power at her disposal. Only when she was sure that not even a thread of darkness could creep out was she satisfied enough to stop.

The power drained away, leaving her suddenly exhausted. She sat down heavily and stared unseeing at the battlefield, where the Alkyrans were forcing the Lithmern back. She could not even feel triumph. She was still sitting on the cold rocks when the crowd of wizards and lords, led by Maurin and her brother, came to find her—a drooping figure in torn and travel-stained garments with the greatest treasures of Alkyra clustered about her feet and a crown of light on her head.

I
T WAS NOT UNTIL
late the following day that Alethia was finally able to tell her story. The Neira healers took her in charge as soon as she reached the camp, and they refused to allow her to be disturbed by anyone until they felt she had rested enough. Har prowled restlessly around the outside of the tent for nearly an hour, but the healers remained firm.

The Crown and the Gifts were carefully wrapped and carried back to camp, where they were put under heavy guard while the survivors tried to decide what was to be done with them. The victory had taken a terrible toll, and the traditional celebrations were subdued. Lord Marhal and Grathwol of the Wyrds were dead; Armin was not expected to live. The prickly Shee general had been killed defending Herre, and the commander of the Shee was badly wounded. One of Bracor’s legs had been seriously hurt; only the skill of the Neira kept him from losing it. Tamsin, too, had reason to be grateful to the healers. He had been wounded in the shoulder, but the Neira assured him that it would heal cleanly. Nearly a third of the combined force of Alkyrans, Wyrds, and Shee were dead, and hardly any of those remaining had escaped unscathed.

When the healers finally pronounced Alethia rested enough to speak, the leaders of the allied armies gathered around Herre’s bedside to listen to her. In a fit of stubbornness, the Shee lord had insisted on being present, and since the Neira would not allow him to be moved, everyone came to him.

Everyone who was able crowded into the tent. Rialla was there, gaunt and weary, and Murn, Arkon of Glen Wilding and leader of the Wyrds since Grathwol’s death. Gahlon and Vander stood against the walls of the tent. Bracor, overruling the Neira’s protests, had persuaded Har and Jordet to carry him from his own tent to Herre’s. He sat next to Alethia, nursing his bandaged leg, with Har beside him. Larissalama sat between Herre and Bracor, dividing his attention between his two most difficult patients. Maurin, despite his injured side, stood near the doorway, half-hidden in the shadows behind Tamsin and Jordet.

Shadows flickered across the walls of the tent as Alethia told the assemblage about her lessons in Eveleth, the firestone, the blizzard, and the finding of the Crown. The firestone shone like a star on her finger as she spoke of the battle. When she finished, there was silence.

“So now the Crown is returned, and we shall have a ruler in place of a regent,” Gahlon said with a smile. “Well, it is high time the peoples were united again.”

“I suppose the Conclave of First Lords will have to choose a king now,” Alethia agreed.

“Not a king, Alethia, but a queen,” Jordet’s voice said from behind her. “And I do not think that the Conclave will have a choice.”

Alethia looked at him and her face lost color. She did not pretend to misunderstand him. “That is absurd! I don’t want to rule Alkyra!”

“You made your choice when you placed the Crown on your head,” Jordet said gently.

“I had no choice! I could not reach the Veldatha in time, and Maurin—” She broke off suddenly, and flushed. “I had no choice,” she repeated.

“The Crown of Alkyra may be worn by one person, and one only, so long as the wearer lives,” Tamsin said in his lilting minstrel’s voice. “Have you never heard ‘Queen Carr’s Lament?’ Her son Morrath died when he put the Crown on with his mother still living, and it broke her heart with grief.”

“But the old tales say that only Kirel’s line can wear the Crown!” Alethia objected. “I am not of the line of kings; I am not even of his blood.”

“Yet you have worn it,” Tamsin said.

Rialla nodded. “There was a reason that only those of Kirel’s blood could wear the Crown. Only his line could handle the enormous flow of power, and live. I felt what you did in that battle; it would have burnt up any one of the Veldatha in spite of our training. I think, girl, that as unlikely as it seems, you are the only one who can wear the Crown.”

“Which is just as well,” Gahlon said quietly. “If the First Lords had to choose a king, there would be war.”

“The Shee would never bow to a puppet of the Alkyran nobles,” Herre growled from his bed.

“Why should the Shee bow to anyone?” Alethia said, frowning. “You have kept apart from humans for hundreds of years!”

“Once we all were apart,” Murn said quietly. “And you have brought us back. Your people fear the Shee and Wyrds already; if we do not become part of Alkyra again, how long will it be before your ambitious nobles turn their soldiers against us? Alkyra must be united. You are the one to do it.”

“I can’t do all that; I don’t know enough about magic or politics. It is impossible!”

“You were trained as a child of the house Brenn,” her father said, “to serve Alkyra.”

“The Nine Families and the Regent will never agree to it,” Alethia pointed out desperately. “They already feel that the family of Brenn is too ambitious; they will never accept me as queen.”

“Some of them may not accept you,” Gahlon corrected gently. “I, at least, will do so. And the Regent follows the lead of the Conclave. If you can persuade a few of the other First Lords, you need not worry about his acceptance.”

“And if I can’t? Unless they accept me, the First Lords certainly won’t let me keep the Crown and the Gifts without fighting for them.”

“Then we will fight,” Herre said grimly.

“Such a war would smash all hope of reuniting the four peoples,” Murn said thoughtfully. “Too many would see the Shee and the Wyrds in the army, and not the humans.”

“Even so, we will fight,” Herre insisted. “You yourself said that unless Alkyra is united, these Alkyran nobles will turn against us. Should we tamely hand them the Gifts and wait for them to attack?”

“But fighting with the First Lords would be just as bad as the Lithmern invading!” Alethia said. “You would have to conquer all of them, and that means nearly all of Alkyra. I won’t let you do it; I’ll give them the Crown myself first.”

“It does not matter whether you give the nobles the Crown or not, Alethia,” Gahlon said. “If the Conclave does not accept you, there will be war. But at least there is a chance to avoid it, if you agree to rule.”

Alethia thought of the tired men outside the tent, who would be the ones to fight if this new war actually occurred. She thought of the maimed and wounded soldiers who had barely begun to recover from the battle with the Lithmern, and of the dead who would never recover. She did not reply.

“You have worn the Crown,” Murn said sympathetically, almost as if she knew what Alethia was thinking. “Only with your death can you put this burden down.”

“No!” Maurin said, under his breath.

Alethia hardly heard him. She looked at the sober faces of the Shee, the Wyrds, the Neira, and the human friends about her.
Her duty as a child of the house of Brenn was to serve Alkyra.
Clearly, if she did not try to persuade the Alkyran nobles to accept her as queen, they would fight among themselves for possession of the Crown and the Gifts. Would she really be serving her country by plunging it into certain war? Once more she scanned the faces around her.

“Would you truly accept me as queen, and your people as well?”

“We will,” said Herre. “All the Shee will bow to the Crown. It was made to bind the four peoples together.”

“I speak for the Wyrds; and I agree,” said Murn.

“I for the Neira; I also.”

“Then it seems that again I have no choice,” Alethia whispered. “I will be your queen.” As her eyes fell, the firestone flared, sending the shadows dancing through the tent once more. Unnoticed, Maurin slipped out into the cold night.

F
OR THE REST OF
the week, the allied armies at Coldwell tended their wounded, buried their dead, and prepared to depart. The Lithmern prisoners were kept separate and under constant guard; with the pass blocked, they would have to go through Brenn to return to their homes once ransoms had been agreed upon. The Neira, too, were going through Brenn. The River Selyr was the closest waterway, and though they could travel overland if necessary, the sea-people preferred not to.

Most of the Veldatha had chosen to remain with the army, at Alethia’s request. They were to study the Gifts and to continue Alethia’s instruction in magic. Some of the Shee and the Wyrds departed on the fourth day after the battle, but many remained. In a few days, others began arriving to pay their respects to Alethia and to see the treasures of Alkyra for themselves.

Among the new arrivals was Isme. The Lady of Brenn arrived without warning on the fifth day following the battle. She listened patiently to all Bracor’s reasons about why she should not have risked such a journey, then said firmly that she did not choose to remain in Brenn while her husband was lying wounded at Coldwell Pass. Since she had obviously arrived safely, Bracor found it difficult to argue convincingly. The discussion might have gone on for a long time if Alethia’s entrance had not put an end to it.

“Jordet told me you had come,” Alethia said as she greeted her mother. “I came straight here. Har is with Murn; I’m sure he’ll come as soon as he hears you are here.”

“I am sure he will,” Isme agreed.

“What is he up to?” Bracor demanded.

“He’s helping Murn decide how we’re going to get all the Lithmern swords and armor back to Brenn,” Alethia said. “We don’t have enough carts for all of it.”

“We shouldn’t leave it to rust,” Bracor said, frowning. “If the Shee could take some of it, we could—”

“Relax,” Alethia interrupted. “Larissalama told you to stop worrying about things and rest, and if you don’t, he’ll probably keep you in that bed for a month.”

“I suppose you’re right,” Bracor said ruefully.

“Then Alethia and I will leave and let you rest,” Isme said. She rose as she spoke, and a moment later she and Alethia were outside the tent. “I would like to speak to the healer, and then we need to talk. I don’t know if you realize it, but I have not yet heard all of what you have been doing these past weeks.”

They found Larissalama, who answered Isme’s questions without hesitation. Bracor’s wound was healing slowly, partly because he continued to be more active than the Neira thought desirable. Isme only nodded, but the look on her face made Alethia certain that Bracor would have far more rest for the next several days at least.

When Isme was finished with Larissalama, Alethia brought her to the small tent that had been hastily erected for her. Inside, Isme seated herself and looked at her daughter expectantly. “Now, what has been happening to you since you… left Brenn?”

Alethia explained. Isme listened without comment until Alethia described the finding of the firestone; then she asked what had become of it. Alethia held out her hand to display the ring, and Isme smiled.

“I am glad you kept it,” she said. “I think it will be of some use to you.”

“It already has been,” Alethia said. “It led me to the cave where the Crown was, when I was lost in the blizzard.”

Isme nodded, and Alethia went on with her story. “And now they want me to be queen,” she finished. “And I don’t want to be!”

“Why not?” Isme said calmly.

Startled, Alethia looked at her mother. “I’m not sure,” she said, after a moment. “It frightens me. Everything is changing. The Wyrds and the Shee are coming back into the world, and probably the Neira, too, and people will be afraid of them. The Nine Families will be in an uproar and everyone else as well. Alkyra needs wisdom now, not raw power. I feel like the Lithmern, fumbling with magic I don’t understand.”

“These will be difficult times,” Isme agreed. She looked thoughtfully at Alethia. “What do you
want
to do?”

“I don’t have a choice,” Alethia said. “Because of the Crown.”

“There is always a choice,” Isme said firmly. “You could hide the Gifts again, or let the Regent and the First Lords continue to rule Alkyra for you, if you really wanted to. What you mean is that you don’t like any of the choices any better than you like the idea of being queen.”