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Chapter 35
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Dynan turned from the growing glow of dawn that brightened the sky above Rianamar. Marring the pristine blue that rode above the city, a black plume of smoke boiled up from the Governor’s Hall. A long fought battle to save the building from destruction finally succeeded. The entire left wing of the Hall stood in ruins, but the Chamber and right wing were intact. Smaller columns of smoke rose throughout the city, some spreading, some contained and dwindling. The Market Square had been saved for the most part, but the clothier and jeweler’s shops were nothing but smoldering ruins.
The attacks on those particular establishments couldn’t be relegated to coincidence alone. Dynan hadn’t yet discovered if Clothier Rembrant and his daughters had survived, or what had happened to the jeweler. He’d sent Ralion to find out, aware that if the betrothal gems were in the rubble they’d have to be found, quickly and quietly. Ralion assured him that the gems would be located and secured.
Dynan turned from the sight of his burning city, wondering where Carryn was and when she would come back. Or if she would. He thought she would have by then.
Gaden knocked softly at the open door, and came in. He looked dazed still, as they all did, uncertain of what he’d witnessed and grieving his brother’s death on top of it all. “I have a report from Commander Morlin on the attacks in those fifteen Regions. He sent it back by transport, and there’s another message from Her Majesty.”
Dynan leaned back in his chair, resisting a desire to groan as he moved. His entire body ached. He really didn’t want to know what Alexia had to say this morning. “Is it any different than the last one?”
“No, except more insistent. She wants an explanation.”
Dynan could tell Gaden wanted the same thing. Dynan didn’t have one. He didn’t know how Maralt had changed himself into a wraith, or how Marc had become a dragon. He shivered at the memory. There were others crowding in his mind of a different place where such creatures thrived. When the dragon is real, Dain had once said, all the rest would be too.
“What about Morlin?”
Gaden shook his head. “He’s having problems in Prellion. That’s where the insurgents have fallen back to. No sign of Logue or Aldridge though. Morlin thinks Liselle is being held in the Communications Guild Hall there.”
“Held?”
“A few of the prisoners have said the original plan was to take Westiben and Liselle together. They were going to force her marriage so that he could take her name, then come back, and claim the Throne. You were all supposed to have died in the attack.”
“So Liselle didn’t have anything to do with this?”
“That’s what the prisoners are saying. I don’t know if it’s true or not. Anyway, because Westiben was moved, their plans were busted, but they’d already taken Liselle out. Morlin said he’d do his best to rescue her. It’ll be midday, maybe later before he can quell the uprising. Here.” He handed over a parchment, but Dynan didn’t read it, trusting that Gaden had hit the important points.
“What else?”
“The other Regions have been secured. The Governor’s Hall fire is almost extinguished and most of the other fires are contained.”
“Is Ralion back yet?”
“No.”
“Com?”
“I can’t find anything that Logue did, but that doesn’t mean he didn’t plant a subroutine that’ll allow him access again. He knew how to do that sort of thing. I’ve changed all the codes again. I started another re-sequence. Trevan is working on it with me. I’ve got the system isolated to two comterms. Until the re-sequence is finished, we won’t have a com system.”
“But you figured out how to do that without the whole system being up. That’s good. Thanks Gaden. You should try to get some rest.”
“I’m all right.”
“Have you heard from your parents?” he asked quietly, wishing the Ahrelds weren’t coming home to bury their eldest son.
Gaden nodded. “Drake said they’ll be here in a couple days. Then we’re going to take him home to Arel. I won’t be gone long. I—”
“Take as much time as you need.” Dynan said, and forced himself to his feet. “I’m sorry I won’t be able to go with you.”
“You’ve got enough to manage here. I understand. Allie would too.”
“I know he would. Still doesn’t seem right. I’m sorry.”
Gaden shook his head. “I better get back to work. I’m hoping to have the system back up before I leave.”
“I’m going upstairs.” He grimaced as he moved to the door.
“Maybe you should see Geneal while you’re there. You don’t look so good.”
“I’ll see if I can pry her away from Dain and Marc. Keep me informed. Let me know when Ralion gets back.”
Jon Athen and Messel Grist met him at the door with the usual troop of guards. The two men were scraped and bruised from the evening’s ordeal, but in better shape than many others. Avry and Roland were off duty, but Dynan suspected he’d find them upstairs. He thought about Jarrid Rohn, who had died at the Hall, joining a list of others who died keeping him safe with their sacrifice. Dynan couldn’t quite reconcile his death with the fact that the guard had done his duty in protecting him. It was his job, but that didn’t make it any easier to accept.
He stopped at the ballroom to rest before continuing the long climb to his rooms. A mistake, he realized, as soon as he tried to stand back up. He hadn’t changed since returning from the ball, hadn’t had a chance to, and he could feel splinters of glass, once forgotten, still piercing skin. Those were the least of his aches though. His shoulder hurt. The entire right side of his body was bruised from being thrown. He’d done something to his knee when he caught Dain.
With the help of his guards, he made it to his feet and up the rest of the stairs. Geneal’s assistant, Mielkin met him at the door. Dynan was taken to his rooms, stripped of all his clothes and then the medic began the arduous process of removing all the glass from his body. It wasn’t a painless procedure. All the bumps and bruises were tended after that, and his shoulder reset in the brace. A large dose of cordalin followed that left him pain free, but drowsy. He realized quickly that Mielkin meant for him to get in bed.
“No,” he said. “I can’t. Not with Dain and Marc both down. I can’t.”
“Geneal told me you’d say that, Your Highness. Her instructions were specific.”
“I bet. You’re supposed to ignore me, right?”
“I’m afraid so,” Mielkin said, smiling. “You need to rest.”
“Later.”
The medic hesitated, gauging his condition, then nodded reluctantly. “I’ll have to give you something to keep you on your feet. I gave you enough cordalin to knock you out.”
“I think I knew that.” Dynan forced his eyes open, already fighting off a tremendous desire to crawl into bed and not get up again. It passed a few minutes after the next injection that left him a little light headed. “That’s, uh, better. Sort of. What is that stuff?”
“It’s called methanolien and if Geneal finds out I gave it to you, she’ll bust me down to a third rank medic.”
“How long does it last?” he asked as he moved to get dressed. Gable brought him an informal and comfortable suit of white wool, then stood by to help him into it.
“Long enough. The cordalin will wear off first.”
“Thanks Mielkin, and I won’t tell. Where’s Dain?”
“Down the hall in a guest room. Lady Bronwyn said we shouldn’t try to put him in his own rooms. I figured it would be all right with you.”
“It is. How is he?”
Mielkin started listing out his brother’s injuries, and Dynan didn’t want him to go on. “I doubt he’ll be up for a few days, and truthfully, he shouldn’t be allowed to. He and Marc. They’re both exhausted and if they don’t get at least a few days of real rest, they’ll end up down permanently. You’re not too far from that category either.”
“As long as we all don’t collapse at the same time,” he said, moving carefully to the door, testing how it felt to walk. He forced a smile, nodded and left his rooms. He found Dain asleep in a guestroom just down from his own door, curled up with Garan beside him.
Bronwyn stood when he came in, setting aside a book she’d been reading. He noticed it was a history of Cobalt.
“It helps pass the time, and some of it is even interesting,” she said.
“I can’t wait to see what they’ll have to say about me.”
Bronwyn smiled. “That you’re brave, handsome like your brother, and you saved all of Brittallia from falling to evil.”
“You got one part right. I am handsome like my brother.” He looked at Dain as he eased down to sit on the bed’s edge, shaking his head at all the new bandages. His entire right side was swathed in white, especially around his shoulder where the wraith had bitten him. What little skin that wasn’t covered was bruised.
Dynan noticed a pair of unusual looking devices that he hadn’t ever seen before on the bed stand next to a closed biomonitor. One was about half the size of a cardial stimulator. Dynan picked that one up, glancing at Bronwyn to see if she knew what its purpose was, and she nodded. “It’s something that will hopefully keep his heart beating if...if he’s taken again. The other one keeps him breathing.”
“Really?”
Bronwyn nodded. “Trevan started working on it right after the first time, when you were down in the dungeons. That’s what he told me anyway. He brought it up this morning, just in case, he said.”
“Here’s hoping we won’t have to use it,” Dynan said, looking at the massive bruise covering Dain’s chest. “I bet Trevan is beating himself up over not having it ready last night.”
“A little,” Bronwyn said. “He’s pretty upset about Allie too.”
Dynan glanced at her, nodding. “Gemern Taldic, Jarrid Rohn, Allie. Casualties of a war where nothing seems to make any sense. All the rules are changed.”
Dain stirred slightly then, muttering under his breath. Bronwyn moved immediately to his side and put her hand on his forehead. She spoke to him softly, telling him that he was safe. He settled after a moment, relieving Dynan of the need to enter his mind and change his dreams. He was afraid to find out what had happened to him after the charged ribbon had taken him.
“He’s been doing that most of the night,” Bronwyn said as Dain calmed. “If I don’t get to him fast enough, he wakes up screaming. Both of them. They brought Garan in after the first time.”
“Dain needs to start teaching him how to block. Garan is way too young to be so aware of this.”
She nodded and moved to sit back down when Dain started again, jerking away from an unseen danger, eyes open and sightless. Garan curled up, covering his head and whimpered in his sleep, while his mother reached to stop Dain from moving.
“No. No. You’re not my father,” he said, looking at her before he pushed her away. “You’re not. You can’t be.”
Dynan froze for an instant, and then helped her, wondering what Dain meant, but his brother fought against him. Garan woke up and scrambled out of the way. Dynan couldn’t stop Dain, and suddenly found himself held by the throat, unable to breathe. He was yanked down onto the bed and held.
“Garan, run and get the guard. Hurry!” Bronwyn said and grabbed Dain’s arm, trying to pull him off.
Dynan tried to reach him. “Dain, wake up!”
“Get away from me.”
“You have to let go first. Wake up!”
Avry appeared at his side, took Dain by the wrist, and pried his fingers open.
“Let him go,” Dynan managed to get out after a few breaths. Avry wasn’t quite fast enough to avoid Dain’s fisted hand and he landed on the floor, swearing under his breath. “It’s all right now, Dain,” Dynan said, reaching for him telepathically, and repeated that, trying to get through nauseating fear. “You’re all right. We’re home.” He looked to Bronwyn. “When was the last time he had any pain medication?”
“Two hours.”
“Call Mielkin,” he said as his brother calmed. He glanced at Avry. “Are you all right?”
“Oh sure,” the guard said, picking himself up off the floor. He rubbed his jaw. “That’s the fourth time he’s done that. We’re not supposed to let him move, but he thinks he’s being attacked or something, starts thrashing around, and when we try to stop him...”
“Maybe it would be better if you stopped trying.”
“Geneal said it was a choice between our keeping him still, or putting a restraint field on him, and she doesn’t want to do that. She says he’ll fight that too, and it’ll be worse.”
Dynan nodded, and sat back down beside his brother. He hesitated another minute, but then tried to reach him again. He found him easily enough, curled up in a ball at the base of a mountain crag. He was surrounded by black swirling ribbons, poised to attack. Dynan knew the place and fear almost kept him from moving. His mind balked at acceptance though, unwilling to believe that Dain had been taken there. He didn’t want to accept the memories that came in, followed by visions of dreams that had once ruled his life.
Dynan reached for Dain just as the coils sprang, and took him away, concentrating hard. It proved nearly impossible, but he finally pulled him from the nightmare. He couldn’t get anything else to hold though and had to stay with him. After a time, his brother sank back into dreamless sleep. When Dynan opened his eyes, Mielkin stood over him.
“He needs to have a monitor on him, and when he starts dreaming, call me.”
“Yes, Your Highness.”
He left Dain and found Garan huddled in a big chair by the fireplace in the parlor. The little boy hardly looked up. Dynan hesitated, not sure if it was safer here or safer away from his father. “Why don’t you run and get dressed for the day. Then you and your guard go down to the medic Center. I think there are some children your age you can play with if you want to.”
“Really?”
Dynan nodded, smiling at Garan’s relief. He didn’t blame him for not wanting to stay. He didn’t want to stay and he wasn’t eight years old. “You could maybe take a few of your toys with you to share.”
Garan nodded, hopped up, but then he stopped abruptly. “I should stay with my father.”
“No, Garan. He’s going to be all right. He’s just dreaming about really bad things right now. In a few days, he’ll be back to his old self. You’ll see. Go on.” The little boy considered what he’d been told, weighing out the truth of it for himself before he nodded slowly. “Garan,” Dynan said as he started to run off. “Stay with your guard.”
“I will.”
Dynan smiled after him, wishing he had that kind of resilience, or just the ability to forget what was happening all around him for an hour. Messel met him at the door and escorted him down the hall to the Lord Chancellor’s quarters.
Carryn sat in the chair the High Bishop indicated, thinking he looked at death’s door. A chill ran through her. Knowledge, she discovered, wasn’t always the easiest or most pleasant thing to have. If the Gradyn Vall died before the weakening could be healed, hope would be shattered, and everything they strove to restore left in ruin. A lifetime spent in service to this one goal would be for nothing.
“You may not return,” the High Bishop whispered. His attendant leaned over him with a glass of water, holding it while he drank. Carryn knew better than to argue, but couldn’t keep the dismay she felt from showing in her face. Dynan wouldn’t likely forgive her. “He will learn without your help what he needs. He has the ability and the resources. I need you here. You must be ready. I wouldn’t demand this of you, if it weren’t so imperative.”
Carryn nodded, still wishing it could be different. She felt torn again, between two duties of equal strength. “I understand.”
The High Bishop laughed but his voice was a coarse blanket, bereft of comfort. “You always say that. You must keep Dain and Matt Talryn here. I can no longer hold them. We are too weak.”
“I’ll keep them here.”
“There is a hole in my mind now. They may be able to manifest themselves here again without the Lord Chancellor’s interference.”
“He took the heartstone.”
“I know, but his methods, as usual, are questionable. I don’t hold him responsible. I failed him. I didn’t understand.”
To hear the High Bishop admit to failure sent an icy chill through Carryn that she again couldn’t disguise.
“There is knowledge denied me as well, Carryn. Or misinterpreted. Only the Gods have true knowledge. True vision. They will not fail us. As long as we, using what we have, do not fail them. The darkness grows. You must be ready.”
“I’ll do everything I can. You know that.”
Gradyn nodded, closing his eyes. He hardly seemed to be breathing at all. “Go now. I must rest.”
Carryn closed the door softly behind her and started to lean back against it, but Matt and Dain appeared on either side, both of them unable to hide their concern. Dain didn’t want to admit being worried about the High Bishop, but since his agreement to cooperate, they’d gotten along far better than Carryn thought possible. Dain too.
“He’s resting,” Carryn said, holding up her hand to stop their questions. “He’s all right for now.”
“I think we already knew that,” Dain said frowning at her.
“There’s something you should see,” Matt said as they reached the intersection of halls that led back to the chamber where Maralt’s ancestors were held.
The corridor outside was half-gone, swallowed by impenetrable black, creeping outward toward them. It couldn’t be stopped this time. The breach across the fabric of reality had to be healed first. From inside the dark, a steady, barely discernable whisper emanated. Carryn saw movement then, and took a step closer, trying to look into the darkness.
“Not too close,” Matt whispered, a hand on her arm. At the same time, she felt a force reach for her, compelling her nearer. Dain pulled her back and kept going, drawing her away.
“You never learn, do you,” he said, shooting her a look.
“It happened last night,” Matt said. Carryn nodded, looking back. The power she felt from the blackness reminded her sharply of what she’d felt from her brother in the Marleen’s barn. And there were other times now that she could remember and compare. Only this was worse.
“What are we going to do about it?” Dain asked once they were safely away.
“We’re already doing everything we can. Marc bought us some time when he took their altar.”
“That’s not all he took, Carryn,” Matt said. “He has Maralt. The part we were holding.”
“I know.”
Dain looked back at the Chamber. “But ... how can he do that?”
“Marc’s knowledge is growing every day, which means his abilities increase as well.”
“His power increases as ours wanes,” Matt said.
“They are the same,” she said. Beside her, Dain growled.
“So what does that mean? Is Marc the next High Bishop?” Dain rolled his eyes when Carryn only smiled, and then turned abruptly for the tower.
“What makes you think I know?” Carryn asked after him.
“Right. I’m forgetting. It’s out of our realm. In the hands of the Gods that we’re supposed to have complete faith in. Except they don’t seem to be doing such a great job of disseminating the information we need to survive.”
“The Gods are weakening,” Matt said in a strange voice. Carryn glanced at him, noticing the difference in tone. “We require a sacrifice. It is written. Only then will we be whole again. It is written. We have chosen. We have...”
Carryn reached for him as he staggered. Dain reached for him too. “Matt?”
“Look for the Rising,” he said, every word choked. He was in pain.
“What’s wrong with him?”
Carryn didn’t answer, helping Matt into the tower room and down to the floor. He recovered the next moment, blinking up at them. “What happened?”
Carryn repeated what he’d said, and watched his reaction, which was confused and a little frightened. Dain shook his head. “More allegorical mumblings,” he said and moved to the tower window. His change of heart hadn’t negated his desire to leave, or the tendency to complain.
“I prefer to think of it as a good sign,” Carryn said. “And since it’s written, we have a way to make it clearer. I’ll be in the library.”
“When are you going back to the Palace?”
Carryn should have expected that question sooner. She wished she could lie. “I’m not, Dain, and neither are you. We have work to do here. If you were to join with your other self now, the balance we have would be shattered and that wall of darkness would take us all. Dynan will be all right.”
“You keep saying that and it never turns out to be true.”
“He’s alive, isn’t he?”
“Being chased around by a wraith isn’t my idea of all right. He doesn’t have any idea what’s going on.”
“He’ll figure it out. He’s starting to remember. You know how painful it is when pressed too hard or too fast. Matt, come with me. Dain, it’s time for your lessons. I’ll send Morr.”
“I hate Morr.”
“He’s not too fond of you either, Your Highness.”
She smiled and left him. Matt came to her a moment later. “You shouldn’t push him.”
Carryn shook her head. “He needs to learn a little humility.”
Matt chuckled. “Dain? It’ll take divine intervention for that. He’s going to help us. You shouldn’t be so hard on him.”
“You forget, Matt. I’ve been dealing with Dain Telaerin a lot longer than you.”
“I haven’t forgotten. He’s only trying to understand, and he never thinks of the danger to himself. You can’t fault him for that.”
Carryn looked at him as they entered the Temple Library, a huge room that contained shelf upon shelf of books. Stacked to the ceiling, they rose up some forty kem. It was the largest collection of the written word in all of Cobalt, and perhaps in all of Brittallia. She thought briefly how unfortunate it was that no one was allowed in here. The knowledge contained within was suppressed. Maybe it had to be - still. She hoped she would see the day when the doors were opened and the knowledge stored here let into the light.
“You should start with the Book of Truth,” Matt said, smiling when Carryn looked at him again.
“I think I knew that. How is it that you do?”
“I’m not sure, and I won’t presume to question it.”
“The Gods can speak through you.”
“The Gods can speak through anyone, Carryn.”
“Under normal circumstances, yes, but now? Maybe that’s why you haven’t been allowed to cross over.”
“Maybe. There’s more to it than that.”
“Hopefully, we’ll find out here.” She led him to a brightly lit alcove where arched windows allowed the morning sun to stream in. On a stand, a book of ancient origin rested. It was opened already and they both saw that the passage before them pertained to their situation. “That’s convenient.”
Matt nodded, and looked over her shoulder. His smile faded slowly as Carryn started reading aloud. “He is chosen. One who will turn evil to good. One who will live and die, and in death live again. One who will be destroyed and find healing. He is chosen. He comes in secrecy, preceding the night, restoring the truth. His sacrifice will bring healing and light. His loss restores balance, taken by the betrayer. He is chosen.”
Carryn stopped, and Matt turned away. He shook his head. “Marc.”
Carryn didn’t want to agree, but thought so too. “I thought at first it was you.”
“No, not me, but I know why I’m here now.”
Carryn frowned, but then understood Matt’s reaction. “You have to take him. You’re the only one who can.”
“I’m the only one he’ll trust by then, and I betray him. They take the power he holds for themselves. He is the sacrifice.”
Matt shook his head again, and walked away, head bowed. A moment later, he disappeared.
Carryn let him go, feeling Matt’s sense of dread at what he would have to do, but unwilling to accept it herself. She knew from experience that not all truths were given. She felt there had to be more that they hadn’t learned. She turned back to the book. Carefully, she lifted it from the stand, and carried it over to a reading table. She looked at the ornate cover for a time, its title standing out in swirling gold. She opened it to the first page and began to read.
