The Sleeping King (83 page)

“And what of you?” she asked low.

“What of me?”

“How do we free you from this place? The peoples of Urth have grave need of you.”

“I know little of this Kothite Empire you speak of. Not all within it may be my enemies.”

She snorted. “They will most certainly think of you as their enemy.” She added belatedly and apologetically, “Please forgive me for speaking so bluntly, Your Majesty.”

He made an impatient face as if apologies from her were entirely unnecessary.

“Please call me Gawaine. My kingdom is a distant memory now.” She nodded as he continued, “That choice still lies ahead of me. If my path should lead me there, I will declare them ally or enemy when the time comes.”

As if there were any doubt how he would declare himself once he saw the devastation wrought by the Kothites upon their subjects and upon the land.

He smiled faintly as if reading her thoughts. “Even so,” he murmured.

“That reminds me,” she blurted. She fumbled in her pouch and came up with the perfect wreath of living, gold-edged leaves, uncrushed in spite of its sojourn in her crowded pouch and her recent violent exertions. “What of this?”

Gawaine's face lit with pleasure. “My crown.” He added with a sigh, “My regalia is all that remains of Acadia, my mother.”

He reached out for it, and the moment his fingers touched the fresh leaves resting in her hand something powerful, magical, streaked through her. Something
really
powerful. A spark of enormous magic, orders of magnitude beyond anything she had ever felt before.

She clutched one side of the wreath convulsively, and interestingly enough, Gawaine did the same to the other side. She stared up at him and he stared down at her. Shock registered in his dark eyes. She felt it too. A sense deep down in her bones that the two of them shared a link. She didn't know how or why, but it drew her to him with inexorable force.

“What was that?” she whispered.

“A connection made,” he murmured. “One of great power. Fate, even.”

 … a sleeping king fated to thee as thou art fated to him …
Moto's prophecy came to her abruptly. She'd assumed Cicero's friend spoke of the Great Mage, Hadrian. But had he spoken of
this
king instead?
What on Urth?
Of a sudden, butterflies filled her belly.

Gawaine did not take the crown; rather he pressed it back into her now-trembling hands.

“But it is yours—” she started to protest.

“Not here. Not yet.”

“I don't understand—”

“It is not time.”

“You do not know what goes on outside of this perfect grove. How can you be so sure it is not time?” she exclaimed.

He did not answer, but rather looked over to Will. “I believe they have finished conversing,” he commented.

What did he mean? A connection made? What kind of connection?

Will glanced up and caught them watching him. He muttered one last, inaudible thing to Bloodroot and started across the grassy space to join them.

She asked low, “What is fated between us?”

Gawaine stared at her intently, as if peering straight into her soul. “As I told your friend, fate is what the stars place before us. Destiny is what we choose to do with that fate. Apparently, you and I are fated to meet again.” He paused, then added low, “That pleases me.”

To her vast frustration, Will's arrival cut off any further conversation in that vein.

“My apologies for keeping you waiting,” Will intoned politely.

Gawaine murmured back courteously. “Raina inquired about freeing me from this place. It would be prudent, I think, for both of you to hear this.”

As Gawaine began to speak, it felt as if something huge … moved … in the cosmos. As if some gigantic chain of events had been set in motion. And this moment, these words, were the first link in it. If fate did exist, she and Will had affected it in a measurable and significant way by coming here. But to what end? Where would the chain lead them?

She listened with every cell of her being as Gawaine explained, “I do not know where my physical body lies on Urth. But I do know the green dragon, Hemlocke, keeps it. Find her and you will find my body. It is my physical form you must wake if you would free my spirit from this prison.”

Will nodded, listening as intently as she.

“This, too, I know,” Gawaine continued. “Hemlocke has bound the zinnzari into her service in return for allowing them to guard my body. Find the zinnzari and they will know how to find Hemlocke.”

“Who, exactly, are the zinnzari?” Raina asked.

“You named them the Children of Zinn, already. And to anticipate your next question, I do not know where to find Zinn. You said before that the Kothites have broken the Council of Beasts. Perhaps Zinn lives, perhaps not.”

“The zinnzari are a clan of kindari, then?” she blurted.

“I believe they have become such with the passing of much time, yes.”

“How do we find the zinnzari?” Will piped up.

Gawaine nodded at the crown she still held. “Use that to find the other pieces of my regalia. My shield and sword, my bow, and my signet ring may still exist. I expect there will be zinnzari near at least one of them.”

Raina was daunted at the prospect of yet another dangerous quest. But it was not as if she or Will could walk away from this. It was her duty to help the people of this land, and he had sworn to wake the Sleeping King. Neither of them had yet fulfilled their vows.

Gawaine was speaking again. “… this warning I give you. Be extremely careful who you trust and who you ask for help. Even the Great Circle cannot be trusted. Much has changed in my absence.”

“Is there anyone we can trust?” she asked.

“The Elder … if you can find him. But I do not know what form he currently takes. He is a body walker and takes on a new race and form in each incarnation.”

“The same elder whose symbol is an open eye?” she queried.

“That is him,” Gawaine confirmed.

“All right then,” Will said stoutly. “Find the zinnzari to find Hemlocke. Find Hemlocke to find your body. And how will we wake you once we find your body?”

“You will need an antidote to eternal slumber.” Gawaine listed out a set of components they would need to create the enhanced potion, and Raina memorized them carefully.

To Will, she said, “The first order of business is to cure you.
Then
we find the zinnzari.”

“The
first
order of business,” he corrected, “is to get out of here alive. I don't know about you, but I do not fancy fighting any more drakken or fire hydras or giant trolls on the way out.”

Gawaine chuckled. “I might be able to help with that. I am not entirely powerless within this realm.”

“Is there any way we can contact you again that does not involve fighting our way back in here and facing all those monsters?” Raina asked.

“This is my dream, and you have entered into it and become part of it. Using the connection the fates forged between us, I believe I shall be able to enter your dreams from time to time, as well. If you do not object.”

Truly?
“I do not object,” she breathed.

“I will contact you when I can, then. Safe travels and best of luck to both of you.”

And with that, Raina was falling, or at least it felt like falling, as featureless white mist rushed past her. Without warning, solid ground materialized beneath her and she thudded onto cold, hard ground a few feet in front of the great circular wooden door with its spiderweb of dream-catcher etchings. Will grunted beside her as he sat up.

“How are you?” she asked as she took inventory of her health. The fall and landing did not appear to have caused her any harm.

“I feel terrible,” Will groaned. “I did not realize how bad I felt until the effects of the poison were removed for a little while.”

She nodded sympathetically and helped him to his feet. “We'd better get out of here before any more monsters show up and try to eat us or cook us.”

They tugged on the door, and thankfully it opened slightly under their hands.

“Wait,” Will whispered. “Let me check for that cursed dog.”

She waited nervously as he peered around the corner.

“In its circle,” he reported.

They eased through the portal, sticking close to the wall without touching the glowing mushrooms. They pulled it shut behind them and Raina heard the latches tumble into place. It sounded as if they scrambled themselves automatically.

“One second,” Will whispered. “I want to try something.”

She watched impatiently as he laid hold of the two nearest hanging roots and closed his eyes. A great moving mass of roots began to move toward them, and she cried out, “Stop whatever you're doing. They're going to kill us!”

The great two-headed wolf lunged at them of a sudden, snapping and snarling ferociously, and Raina jumped reflexively.

Will's eyes opened. “Look.” He pointed at the door and she was stunned to see a wall of roots weaving across it as she watched. It was unsettling seeing the tendrils moving like sentient beings.

“What did you do?” she asked in wonder.

“I asked the tree to hide the door to Gawaine's resting place. Or maybe Bloodroot asked. Or both of us. But it worked!” Will declared triumphantly before staggering against her a little.

“You're too weak to be pulling stunts like that,” she chided. “You heard what Gawaine said. Channeling Bloodroot's powers speeds up your poisoning.”

“Yeah, but that was cool.”

She rolled her eyes as he moved off in the dim green glow of the mushrooms.

The shock of being back in a danger-fraught cave full of dead orcs and deadly roots was terrible after the utter peace and beauty of Gawaine's grove. “Where do you suppose the others are?” she asked in a hushed tone.

“Outside with Balthazar, hale and healthy, I hope.”

They crept around the margins of the ritual circle, trying, and failing, not to cringe as the two-headed wolf lunged and snarled furiously at them from a distance of only a few handspans. She searched the beast's necks and did not spot the keys hanging on its collars. With the door hidden and its keys gone, she prayed the secret of Gawaine's grove would be safe until they could wake his body. In the meantime, she was more than ready to get out of here. A forest full of Anton's troops and warring Boki sounded like a pleasant stroll through a park compared to this place.

She spied the particularly thick tangle of roots that marked Gir'Ok's resting place. Will angled left confidently, and she did not question his unerring navigation skill, although she worried about its cost to his health. She spotted a pair of hanging roots recently tied back to make a triangular opening. That was Cicero's work.
Thank the stars.
They were almost out of here. Will held the vines back lightly for her with his staff and waved her forward.

She ducked through the opening and pulled up hard as the tip of a sword nicked the underside of her chin. Her panicked gaze slid down the length of the weapon—

—The sword clattered to the ground and Cicero wrapped her in a quick, hard hug.

“Thank the Lady,” she breathed as she hugged him back. “You survived!”

“Nay. I died, all right. Rosana just finished resurrecting me.”

The gypsy girl stepped out from behind him. “If you'd gotten here two minutes ago, you'd have seen him as naked as the day he was born.”

Will swept forward and wrapped the healer in a hug that Raina suspected nigh crushed Rosana. Although the crushing looked mutual. Raina turned away as Will drew back far enough to kiss the gypsy.

“Sha'Li!” Raina cried. “You resurrected successfully. Oh, thank goodness!”

The lizardman girl took a hasty step back. “Kill you I shall, if you try to kiss me.”

Raina fetched up laughing. Surly as always, Sha'Li was. “And Eben?” she asked quickly. “How does he fare?”

“I am alive,” the jann replied from the shadows beyond the lizardman girl.

“Better he is after death!” Sha'Li retorted.

Raina was confused. “How is death better?”

“His arm he has. And his plague he has not. Ready to go is he—”

Cicero interrupted, “Speaking of which, now that we are all here, I think we should be on our way out of here with all due haste. The Boki die outside even now defending us.”

The party headed out with the kindari leading the way. They dodged the vines, mushrooms, and orcish corpses almost without thought as they moved through the dim chamber.

“What happened after you fled the draaken?” Rosana asked Will ahead of her.

“There is much to speak of. But later, when we are all—”

His voice faded suddenly as his knees buckled, and he toppled over without warning.

Raina lunged for him, but Rosana was quicker and dropped to her knees beside him, hands on his chest. “Dead!” the gypsy cried out. “And I do not have enough mana to renew him!”

“I do not think your magic would help him at this juncture,” Raina replied grimly. “He has been poisoned by Bloodroot, and it is no ordinary poison. Gawaine said we would only have a short time to heal him. But I had hoped we could at least get out of here and have a few days or weeks to make the antidote.”

“Gawaine?” Cicero asked.

“He's the Sleeping King—” Raina started.

“You found him?” Cicero, Eben, and Sha'Li exclaimed in unison.

“Later!” Rosana snapped. “We must do something. We cannot let Will just die.”

Raina cursed her tabard for draining herself earlier so that now she could not help her friends. If only she had a life potion in her pouch. But all she had in it was—

She fumbled frantically in her pouch and came up with Gawaine's crown. “Put it on him. Maybe its power will restore him.”