| |
Chapter 36
––––––––
Dynan turned from the balcony doors off the ballroom in Marc’s rooms, smiling briefly at the pristine blueness of the sky above the Tarameik Mountains. Not a single cloud touched the sky. A huge improvement from yesterday’s storm, but a high price to pay for fine weather. He shook his head, and made his way to Marc’s bedroom, stopping abruptly in the private sitting room. Loren lay curled on the couch, wrapped in a blanket and sleeping. The bedroom door was closed, and no one else was around.
Dynan was drawn to her side before he could stop himself. They were alone and he hadn’t found that to be the case in far too long. He wanted to wake her, but didn’t, and so contented himself with just looking, restraining the temptation to touch her. He knew she would wake up if he did. He sat on a low table in front of the couch instead.
Ralion found him that way some time later, though Dynan wasn’t sure how long he’d stood in the doorway watching him watch her. When he looked up, Ralion bit back a smile. “Who else knows about this?” he asked softly. “Besides the clothier?”
“Dain.”
“Really? And Loren?”
Dynan shook his head, turning back to her. “She doesn’t know about the gown.”
“Carryn would be astounded.” Ralion laughed as he moved to the fireplace and quietly put on some fresh logs. “Have you seen her?”
“No.”
“She not coming, is she?”
“She would have been here by now. I don’t know. Maybe she can’t.”
Ralion nodded, sitting on the table with him, facing the fire. “Maybe it’s better this way.”
“Leaves me to figure this out on my own.”
“That’s right.”
“Think I can?”
“If you can’t, we’re in trouble, so I have to say I hope so.”
“That’s encouraging, Ralion. Really.”
He smiled in response. “The clothier had the gems at his home. That’s where he’s doing the work. The shop is gone, but he was able to save most of his storeroom. His girls are all right. The Guild will have him open again, rebuilt from the ground up in a few days.”
“Really?”
“They’ve already started. The clothier’s making the most profit in town and the Guild doesn’t want to see that stop. They’re taking care of it. The Governor’s Hall is a different story, but they’ll have it cleaned up in time for your coronation.”
“You mean if we survive that long.”
“I figure we’ll make it all right. It’s not every King of Cobalt who has a dragon on his side.”
“Or a Wraith trying to kill me.”
“Marc didn’t seem to have too much trouble with that. Once I got over the surprise of it, I was pretty happy to see him beat the life out of the thing. Another round won. We win, they lose, and the sun comes out again.”
“You’re taking it better than most.” He shook his head, reached, and moved a stray strand of hair from Loren’s face. “You’ve read from the Book of Faith.”
Ralion glanced at him. “Not lately, though I suppose with what’s been going on, I should be.”
“Ever read about anyone escaping the Demon’s Gate?”
Ralion looked down into his hands, but he shook his head without answering. Once again, Dynan thought he knew more about it than he was willing to say. Still.
“Me either,” he said and pushed himself up. “Until now.”
“It’s happened before,” Ralion said, and seemed on the brink of making a decision. He produced a small data chip from his belt. He looked at it, turning it between his fingers for a moment before he handed it over. “You had these dreams, and Dain drew them. He gave the originals to Sheed, and told him to never talk about them. He hid the book of drawings in his old quarters and I tracked it down. I have them in my rooms if you want to see them, but these are the scans.”
Dynan took the chip, already knowing what it contained. He’d known for a while. “All this time, you kept them hidden.”
“Carryn told us to avoid talking about it, and there’s a note from Dain saying the same thing. Sheed kept them. I didn’t know about them until you met Loren ... when you started having the dreams again.”
“Now that they’re all coming true?”
“There’s one at the end you might want to take a look at. I think it’s the same as the Book of Ages from Cadal.”
“Right.” He put the chip in a pocket, already seeing in his mind the entire montage of images parading through. The one Ralion spoke of was of a dragon curled around a crystal ball lying before the Telaerin Throne. Dynan concentrated on putting a stop to them, and this time he could. “I remember doing our lessons with Prelate Trill. It was a long time ago. He always took this perverse delight in telling us stories of men who’d lost their souls, bound to the Gates for all eternity. Turns out they aren’t just stories meant to frighten young boys into behaving. They’re real. That’s where Marc went to get Dain. He’s been dreaming about it. I had to pull him out of there. A lot easier than what they did, but scary enough to make me think twice before doing it again.” He pulled in a breath, and moved to the bedroom door. “I want you to get me the oldest copy of the Book of Faith that you can find, and I need the Book of Legends off the XR-9. Make sure Trevan has checked my office vault for traps. Dain’s too, and the one in here. Then go see if Drake is up. Ask him if he’ll talk to Alexia.”
Ralion nodded and stood, smiling slightly. “Rather face Purgatory than Alexia Targon?”
“Tell Drake I’ll be there as soon as I can.”
“What if he’s not awake?” Ralion started shaking his head when Dynan looked at him. “I’m a guard, not a diplomat.”
“Time to learn a new trade, Ralion. Although, judging how well you did with the Governors, maybe I should let you off. Here’s hoping that Drake is awake.”
He turned from his First Minister’s sarcastic smirk and quietly went in to see Marc.
The room was carefully darkened, all the drapes tightly closed and it smelled of sickness. Geneal was asleep, exhaustion showing starkly in her face as she rested, curled in a chair. Marc lay shivering, bathed in sweat. His covers were tangled in a pile at the baseboard, and he muttered constantly in incoherent whispering streams. Dynan listened for a moment, trying to decipher what he was saying. The only words that came through were ‘can’t ... hold ... on.’
Dynan swore under his breath. He was drawn to the dark orb clutched tightly in Marc’s left hand. Its interior swirled with sporadic bands of light. Dynan wanted to touch it, to confirm its presence in reality. He knew he shouldn’t. He didn’t feel anything from it when he thought he would. He suspected that Marc felt it all.
Dynan pulled the covers up around him, and wondered if entering Marc’s mind was such a good idea. He was dreaming something equally horrible as Dain, and Dynan was afraid to face it.
Just as he meant to reach him, Marc jerked suddenly and his eyes flew open, showing all white. He doubled up in pain, groaning. The orb flared in his hand. A band of black stretched toward Dynan. He was struck and felt himself pulled in. Before he had a chance to fight it, he was caught. He heard Geneal, warning him that he shouldn’t be there.
A mountain grew up around him, and a man stood over him, holding down his hand. Black ribbons of death came for him, and he looked up into the face of his father.
