Chapter 39

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Ambrose Telaerin watched with growing alarm as snow blanketed ground rushed up toward him. The breath of the dragon that clutched him rattled in gasps as it strove to slow them down. A smear of blood across its chest blotted out the Telaerin crest, oozing out in rhythm with the pumping of its wings. Claws dug into his side, not enough to puncture skin, but decidedly uncomfortable, and Ambrose couldn’t explain why. That he had a body and felt pain came as an incomprehensible shock. He thought he was about to feel more than mere discomfort.

He was let go and thrown clear an instant before they impacted. The snow softened his landing but the dead tree he slid into, hidden beneath the white blanket, knocked the air from his lungs and blackness threatened to overtake him. Fear of dying again rose up with unexpected suddenness, but the cold snow sprayed up in his face revived him a little. He saw the dragon’s body shrink, curling in on itself until it was just a man lying in the wide crater. Ambrose pushed up to his feet, his hand going to a sharp pain at his temple. His fingers came away with a smear of blood.

He smiled at it and laughed at the stinging sensation above his left eye. He was alive, mostly whole and with nothing but a bad memory to account for the last seven years. He thought to examine the how of it later, and moved to his savior’s side.

Marc was cut from his right shoulder to about halfway across his chest, the wound overlapping another scar that was only newly healed. The gash wasn’t deep, but there was a foul smell to it that promised to fester if not properly tended soon. There were burns across his skin and other recent wounds. It was possible he could die without help.

Ambrose straightened, looking around the meadow they had landed in, aware that they were in the Tarameik Mountains above the Palace. He recognized this place, covered in snow though it was. He’d been here before with Shalael, and later with Dynan and Dain. And later still, at the tomb of Alurn Telaerin. Ambrose wondered how this man knew of it. He doubted that either of his sons had come here since their return.

Back across the meadow, and through a thin, barren stand of trees, the mountain rose up in a sheer wall. From it, a waterfall once ran and Ambrose saw that it was frozen, leaving only a trickle of water to feed the small brook that wound over the fields. It too was covered in snow and ice. He wouldn’t be able to follow the water back to the mountain wall. Hopefully, he’d avoid falling into it.

He leaned down over Marc again and found him watching through eyes open to slits. Not watching, he realized, and saw that his eyes were all white. In human form, he was blind. “There’s a place I know where we’ll find shelter. It’s across the meadow. I’m going to carry you there.”

Ambrose picked him up, discovering that Marc didn’t weigh as much as he expected, and was able to pull him onto his back without too much difficulty. He glanced at him and thought him hardly more than a boy, wondering at Dynan for giving such a young man the responsibility of Lord Chancellor. Ambrose smiled at himself and at how easily concern for his Kingdom returned, when it wasn’t his any longer.

When he considered that again, he decided that he didn’t mind as much as he thought he should. It might be nice to leave it all to Dynan again, but be alive to enjoy seeing his son’s coronation. He had a feeling Dynan might not see it that way, after he got over the initial surprise of having him alive. Ambrose knew they couldn’t go back to the time when he was King and Dynan’s ascension a distant prospect. He would be a grown man by now, one who had fought for seven years to return home and retake the Throne. Ambrose didn’t want to watch his son grow to despise his presence.

He frowned over the predicament as he made his way across the meadow. In places, the wind had blown the snow down to bare grass, and he kept to those areas as much as possible. Once he reached the wood, the way became nearly impassible and Ambrose was forced to drag Marc behind him as he struggled to reach the cliff face.

The caves remained as he remembered them, opening a few paces away from the waterfall. Ambrose forced his way by debris that covered the third opening. He checked for signs of animal occupation, but found none. While it was dark in the cave, Ambrose remembered the layout, and hoped to find supplies, brought to this place so long ago. He dragged Marc over to the right wall at the entrance, then fumbled around forgotten boulders near the back of the cave until he found the raised niche in the rock that once held a light and a few other amenities. His hand touched a mylif covering, and inside, cloth that was thick and soft. Two lamp boxes stood behind the blankets. One of them still worked, but very dimly. With that small light, he was able to gather the other supplies quickly. He took one lamp outside to charge its photocell, and then set about gathering more wood for a fire.

In short order he had a warm blaze going, using some dry wood stacked in the back and carefully supplemented with wetter sticks from outside. He wrapped Marc in one of the blankets after removing his dampened, torn clothes. About half of the other blanket was lost to cut up bandage strips.

It took Ambrose the better part of the morning to tend all Marc’s wounds, and arrange their makeshift shelter into something more habitable. Marc didn’t stir through it all. As the hours wore on, and he didn’t recover at all, Ambrose wondered if he would survive. He questioned, as the day started to wane, if he should leave him and try to get to the Palace.

Ambrose shook his head at the idea, fearing Marc might die before he could return. If he made it through the night, there was a better chance he’d survive alone for the length of time it would take to reach the Palace and send back help. Tomorrow a better judgment could be made.

Ambrose went to the cave mouth to look out, and saw a young deer, a buck, nosing through the snow, searching for forage. He straightened, turning for the back of the cave again, where once hunting supplies had been stored. He found his old hunting bow and a quiver of arrows, preserved inside its case, smiling again as his mouth watered at the thought of fresh venison. Suddenly, he was ravenously hungry.

The deer had moved on by the time he’d re-strung the bow, but he was pleasantly astonished to find two others standing just on the edge of the wood line. Less than an hour later, he had a stew boiling over the fire with a few steaks grilling on the side. He barely let them cook through before taking one. The first bite burnt his mouth, but he didn’t care, it tasted so good. He looked up and silently thanked the Gods while he ate.

Ambrose found Marc watching him, and felt that he could see. “How are you doing that?” he asked, then felt a sense of presence. Marc shivered. “You’re inside my head then. Interesting. You’re an adept. While I might take offense at that, considering where I’ve been, your brand of invasion doesn’t seem to cause me any discomfort. Not at all like Maralt. You’ve got him there, don’t you? His confederates moaned enough about it. I suppose that’s why they want you.”

He watched while Marc shuddered again. He didn’t seem inclined to answer, or maybe he couldn’t. “I’m indebted to you, to say the least, for returning my life. You don’t seem like a God. Are you? Then you don’t know how you did this. I see this causes you some concern. You can rest assured that Maralt wouldn’t have wanted it, nor could he do this thing himself. There’s no power, save that which comes from the Gods that can do what you have. Which means, by accident or design, you’re meant to have this ability. Perhaps that’s what it will take to finally defeat them and destroy the evil they would see spread through the worlds. Which also means that you can’t die just yet.”

Ambrose moved to his side with a cup of cooled broth and lifted him up so he could drink. “Good, isn’t it? Food never tasted quite so incredible. Thanks to you, I can look forward to more. And to see Dynan again, really see him. Dain and Shalis too. The man you fought; he’s called The First, and sometimes The Mouth, and he kept me informed, but only with what he wanted me to know. Are they all right? I know what Maralt did to them. Are they all right now?”

Marc’s eyes closed in response and he shuddered again, retching in sudden violent spasms. Ambrose held him while what little liquid he’d taken emptied from his stomach. It didn’t take long, but it didn’t stop then either. Brutal spasms shook him until he was reduced to constant shivers.

Ambrose checked the wound on his chest, fearing infection but there was no sign of it. The gash was carefully cleaned and it remained so. This sickness was caused by something else. He glanced down at the black orb in Marc’s hand. “You’ve only just taken this,” he said. “They set up a howl over it too. This is Maralt; all of him you’ve managed to contain. Taking their altar was a good plan. You’ve got them frightened, Marc. They’re running out of options. All we need do is get you through the night. If you’re stronger by morning, I’m going down to the Palace to get help. No, I’m not leaving you, but I have to get help up here. Think you can hold on that long?”

Marc barely nodded before sinking back into whatever world of nightmares his mind occupied. Ambrose sat beside him, watching in growing concern as darkness settled outside the cave.

“I want you and Shalis to go ahead to the Beach Manor,” Dynan said, turning from Alexia as she approached. They were just finishing luncheon in the Royal dining hall.

“I don’t want to leave with Marc gone. I don’t—”

“Loren, I want you to go. Don’t argue with me.”

She reacted slightly to his tone, and he could see that she wanted to object, but with the Queen so close, she didn’t. “Very well, Your Highness.”

She turned abruptly and moved away, nearly running right into Alexia. She didn’t stop though, and left the room, attracting a lot of eyes as she did. Dynan allowed a brief flash of anger, aware of Alexia’s scrutiny.

“Lady Loren seems upset,” she said, glancing after her.

“It’s been an upsetting sort of day, Your Majesty. You wanted to see me about something?”

“Something? I find your tone less than desirable, if not disrespectful. I suggest you change it. As for my repeated requests for an explanation that have all been ignored, I can only assume that you don’t have one, which quite frankly, doesn’t surprise me. Let me assure you that if the situation doesn’t change soon—”

“Alexia, you don’t need to assure me of anything. I have more important things to deal with than your constant complaining. When I have that explanation you’re so desperate for, I’ll give it to you. Until then, you’ll just have to wait.”

He turned from her astonished expression, aware that he’d angered her more than was necessary, or wise. He didn’t care. He did have more important worries, and couldn’t manage with her without losing his temper. He hesitated briefly, and left the sitting room as abruptly as Loren, aware of all who watched him. He saw Drake turn to come after him, but Dynan shook his head at the King, and quickly retreated to his rooms. He told the guard at the door that he didn’t want to be bothered. Gable received the same instructions on his way back to check on Dain, doubting either of them would be able to see that order enforced.

His brother continued to sleep fitfully. Dynan had managed to keep him from most of the nightmares, but saw that he would likely have to do so again. Bronwyn confirmed that thought with a nod. Dynan sank down wearily into the chair pulled over by the bed, wondering if he could stand to face that place again. The more he thought of doing so, the greater his reluctance grew, so he stopped thinking.

Concentrating, he found Dain, and spent the next uncounted moments pulling him away from a dream of reality that had been too real for either of them to ever be completely free of. He saw his father again, reaching for his own son, meaning to take him so that his heir had a chance to live. It was a terrible choice for him, and the knowledge that he was now suffering at their hands left Dynan shaking.

When he opened his eyes again, after leaving Dain in fairer company, pain struck him, joining with an acute weariness that told him more time had passed than he thought. All of his medications had worn off.

Mielkin was beside him in an instant, but Dynan stopped him from administering anything more than the usual dose of cordalin. He found that inadequate to stop his shoulder, or his knee from pounding. This time the medic refused him anything else to help keep him awake, making him wonder if Geneal had found out. Just as Mielkin was about to explain, she came in with Ralion, and Mielkin quickly shut up. Their relieved reactions confused him until he found out how long he’d been sitting there.

“Three hours? Why didn’t you—”

“We tried to wake you,” Geneal said. “Several times. I was just coming in to give you a dose of anethinol. Yes, that’s right. It was the last resort I deemed necessary to use to break the connection to Dain. I wasn’t sure what effect methanolien would have on your ability to break it yourself.”

Slowly, he pushed himself to his feet, trying hard not to show how bad he felt. He didn’t want to get into a big argument with Geneal while his brother was trying to sleep. “Everybody out,” he said, pointing to the door. Geneal bristled at his tone. Mielkin didn’t move. Ralion turned around to go, then reached back for Geneal, and pulled her along with him.

“I think I should stay here,” Mielkin whispered. The medic cringed slightly when Dynan glanced at him. “I’m sorry. I had to tell her when we couldn’t wake you.”

“Not your fault. Where did Bronwyn go?” he asked, realizing she wasn’t there. Mielkin shook his head. “Stay with him.”

“Yes, Your Highness.”

Geneal turned on him as soon as he closed the door, but he held up his hand and pointed her into his study. “I don’t know what you were thinking—”

“I was thinking I needed to stay up because Marc and Dain weren’t, that’s what. If you hadn’t ordered Mielkin to give me such a huge dose of cordalin, he wouldn’t have found it necessary to give me the other drug. For future reference, Doctor, I expect to be informed before you decide on any treatment. That includes my brother and the Lord Chancellor, if we ever get him back. Is that clear?”

“Perfectly, Your Highness. Now, I want to make this clear to you.”

“Geneal, wait,” Ralion said and was ignored.

“As Chief Physician and your doctor, it’s my duty and right to inform you that I deem your physical condition poor enough that you are unfit to rule. If I have to—”

“I can get a different doctor, and I can appoint a new Chief Physician. If you want to continue this, you go right ahead and send your recommendations to Ildin Taldic. I’m sure he’ll find it all too amusing if you consider for just a minute what’s been going on around here. While you’re at it, be sure to tell him that his father’s soul is dammed for all time, and that Marc Talryn, the only person who might have been able to save any of them is likely trapped too. Tell him that his father and mine can take notes on what kind of torture they can expect. Then you can ask him just who he would have up here instead of me. What? Maybe changing your mind? If you have something else to say, Geneal, then say it. Otherwise, get out.”

“Dynan, what are you talking about?” She stared at him, now in concern, when he would rather she stay angry.

“That’s right. You don’t know, do you? Sorry. I haven’t been able to keep you up to the minute on this. I’ve been busy trying to keep my brother from reliving the same torture Gemern Taldic, Allie, Jarrid, pick a name of the dead, are now consigned to. Anything else you want to know?” He turned from her and saw Shalis in the other room, and Loren trying to stop her from coming in. “What are they still doing here?” he asked Ralion when he should have demanded that answer from Loren.

“I’m not leaving, Dynan,” Shalis said as she came in.

He turned to Ralion again. “Put them on a transport. Now.”

“Right away. Shalis, Loren, come with me please.”

“No. I’m not—”

“Willing or not, little girl,” Dynan cut her off. “Geneal, go see if you can give Dain something that will stop him from dreaming. Where’s Bronwyn?”

“I’ve been going over coronation plans with her,” Loren said evenly, though he could tell she was angry too. “She’s going to be managing while I’m gone.”

“Fine. Then go, and let her manage.”

No one moved except Shalis, who turned abruptly and rushed from the room. Loren straightened. “We all know that you’re upset, but that isn’t cause for you to be so insensitive to what your sister is feeling right now. She’s worried to death about Marc and she heard what you said. Ralion, you don’t need to put us on a transport. You have more important things to do.” She glanced at Dynan in the silence that followed, but her hand stole up to touch the necklace she wore. He understood by that action that she wasn’t really so angry with him. He thought she meant what she’d said though, and knew she was right.

He turned for the door himself. “I’ll be back. If I can make it up the stairs, that is.” He frowned back at Geneal and left them.

By the time he made it down, Loren and his sister had reached the Queen’s offices. Dynan was surprised, and then alarmed, to see them talking to Princess Danetha and Lady Alvuen. Bronwyn was there with them, and even at that distance, Dynan could tell the conversation wasn’t pleasant. There were a lot of people watching them who could see the same thing. Loren, in particular, was getting angrier by the moment. Shalis saw him coming, turned abruptly, and started for the door.

Dynan swore. “Go stop her.”

Roland, his guard, looked likely to protest. He thought better of it, and hurried to stop Shalis before she could get outside. She didn’t appreciate the request either, but she waited. Dynan almost changed his mind about finding out what was wrong with Loren and Bronwyn, but they’d seen him, so it was too late. Bronwyn seemed embarrassed, Loren furious, and Alvuen self-satisfied. Danetha was the only one who seemed in a reasonable frame of mind.

“Is there something wrong?” he asked.

“No,” Loren said, and would have turned, but Danetha stopped her with her answer.

“There could be something wrong, Your Highness, if Lady Loren refuses to listen to me.”

Dynan held up his hand quickly to stop Loren, casting her a look of entreaty, hoping she would calm down. Alvuen shook her head. “And it’s a problem that shouldn’t be allowed, Your Highness.”

“Alvuen,” Danetha said sharply. “I would rather explain my intentions to Prince Dynan myself.”

“There isn’t any need to discuss this at all,” Loren said. “I’ve already heard her concerns and don’t feel they warrant further attention. Lady Bronwyn is completely capable of managing Palace affairs while I’m gone. Our transport is waiting—”

Dynan saw it then. He should have realized the implications before and hadn’t. He stopped Loren from leaving, and pointed them to the Queen’s offices. “In there.”

This office was entirely different in layout from the King’s offices and he could tell Loren had been busy redecorating in here as well. It had been many long years since Dynan last set foot in the place, and only vaguely remembered what it had looked like before. There was a fresh coat of paint on the walls, and new coverings. The furniture had been replaced, repaired and upholstered in cream and there were plants everywhere, though not so many to make it feel crowded. There was also a very busy staff hard at work, none of whom he knew, and they all looked up in surprise to see him. Eyes widened when Danetha followed, amazement growing when Loren, Bronwyn and Alvuen came after. He found the first empty office and gestured them all in, casting Eyron a look, which he returned with a slight smile.

He leaned against the desk, facing three unhappy women. Alvuen was too obviously pleased, and Dynan very much wanted to ignore her. “Your Highness, if you would please?”

“I’m sorry, Dynan, really. I should have come to you with this instead of Lady Loren, but I mistakenly thought she would understand. It was only my intention to save you another embarrassing situation. I’m not questioning Lady Bronwyn’s capabilities. It’s just that—”

“I know what you’re questioning,” he said. He looked at Bronwyn when he didn’t want to. “It would probably be better if—”

“You’re not agreeing with her,” Loren said, gaping at him.

He didn’t want to answer. “Yes, I am. I’m sorry, Bronwyn.”

“You needn’t apologize. After my reception last night, I should have expected it. I should go back to ... upstairs. If you’ll excuse me.”

Loren stood in stony silence, and Dynan was really afraid he’d angered her beyond the point of repair, and knew the opportunity to apologize, or even explain didn’t exist. Danetha seemed equally unhappy with the entire situation. Loren glared at him a moment longer, before she abruptly left the office in stony silence.

“I’m sorry that you had to point out what should have been obvious to me, Danetha. This is my fault and I apologize for Loren’s behavior.”

The Princess shook her head. “I knew she wasn’t thinking of it the way most people would. I’ll be happy to help you in her absence, with all your coronation plans. It’s such a large undertaking, and she has, understandably, been under considerable strain.”

With that, Dynan saw how neatly he allowed himself to be manipulated. “I’m sure Loren will appreciate your offer. Maybe when she returns you might consider talking to her about it. In the mean time, Neithia Bairing will be able to take over for her. She’s been assisting her with the coronation plans. Actually, I don’t think there’s much left to do. Last time I checked, they had most of it taken care of. Thank you for the offer though.”

Dynan saw that his reply infuriated Alvuen, though she tried to disguise it. Danetha was relieved and even happy, a fact that left him confused. Her entire attitude was confusing until he considered the possibility that her mother had likely suggested the entire confrontation. That, in turn, made him wonder how Alexia had known so quickly that Loren meant to leave Bronwyn in charge. All of it had been aimed at removing Loren and having Danetha step in. That, at least, he’d managed to prevent.

So far, Dynan amended silently, and straightened as he remembered his original intent on coming down at all, which was to apologize to Shalis. “I have to talk to my sister before she goes, Princess. Thank you again. Another disaster averted. I’ll take that kind of help any time. I’ll see you shortly for dinner.”

“I look forward to it, Your Highness.”

He smiled at her, and kept it until he left the office. Shalis was waiting with Loren by the main door, and he saw an opportunity to try to convey some sort of assurance to her, when he really needed it for himself, all without being able to say so.

Behind them, one of the big doors swung open, letting in a swift flow of cold air and Commander Morlin with it. Beside him and with felicitous assistance, Liselle was brought indoors, walking with care as though moving were difficult for her. Cloaked and hooded though she was, Dynan saw her face, staring in silent shock at the bruises darkening her jaw. She was pale and he saw as he drew closer, that she was on the verge of collapse.

She swayed when she saw him, putting a hand up to her face, trying to hide what had been done to her. Anger that someone had struck her swept through him, coupled with relief that she was all right and safe again. Morlin cleared his throat. “The insurgents have been successfully dealt with, Your Highness.”

“And the men who did this?”

“Dead.”

Liselle’s shaking grew more apparent, and Dynan reached for her because he thought she was going to fall. “I’m so sorry,” she said softly, confusing him.

“What?”

When she looked up at him, he was surprised to see that she was weeping. “For what I said about you, for Beren, and what I did to you. I’m sorry, Dynan. I never meant to hurt you.”

He knew instantly that she was referring to their past rather than recent events. He felt himself taken back to a time when he questioned whether she ever really cared about him, and knew then that she had. He never understood why she’d been so driven to do what she did, and realized the only person capable of answering that question finally stood before him, willing to give the explanation. He shook his head though, seeing that she wasn’t in any condition for such a discussion, let alone in a place with fewer witnesses. “Liselle—”

“I was afraid I was going to lose you.”

He froze for an instant, unprepared for such a simple admission of truth, and understood easily how she thought her fear could be realized. She didn’t have to say why she had feared it. Dain had always made his opinion of her quite clear, and she’d constantly worried about his ability to drive them apart. In that, Dynan was responsible for not making it clear to her that Dain’s opinion wouldn’t change his mind.

“None of that matters now. It shouldn’t have mattered then, and I should have made certain you understood that. I didn’t and I’m sorry. It’s going to be all right. I promise. You’re safe now. I’m not going to let anyone hurt you again.”

Without thinking of what he was doing, he reached up and brushed her hair back, then touched the end of her nose, an action that brought out a soft smile and one of his own. Movement at the door caught his eye and immediate attention as it lumbered closed. Loren and Shalis had gone.

His first impulse was to go after her, thinking of what she’d just seen and what she would think, but he couldn’t, not with Alvuen and Danetha who stood watching. He quickly tried to cover that desire. He remembered Commander Morlin, who stood patiently off a pace or so.

Liselle smiled again. “You’re busy.”

“That’s not exactly the way I’d put it,” he said looking to the doors. “You need to rest. I’ll come up after dinner and check on you. All right?”

“You don’t have to.”

“I want to.”

“Dynan, you know Dain isn’t going to like this, and I don’t want to be the cause of more trouble between you.”

“Well, at the moment he’s unconscious, so he isn’t going to know about it. You were never the cause anyway. He was. I’ll talk to him.”

“Is he all right?”

“More or less. I’ll be sure to tell him you asked.”

She laughed a little and shook her head. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be. Go on. I’ll see you in a little while.” A servant came to assist her, and Dynan watched after her a moment, until finally turning to Morlin. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome. I dare say though, you don’t need the complication.”

“Oh, what’s one more?” He took a step and almost fell over. Roland caught him and kept him standing. His knee had stiffened up, making it impossible for him to walk. “Thanks. I’m all right. Really.” Roland looked doubtful, but let him go, then helped him again when he took a step, thinking to test the leg. It didn’t work. “Office.” He gritted his teeth. The pain in his knee overtook the pain in his shoulder, almost making him forget about it. Finally, they got him inside the King’s offices and back to his own. Morlin poured him a drink.

Dynan sat, sipping it and listened to the Commander’s report, but found it difficult to concentrate on what he said. His leg hurt, and he kept seeing Loren walking out the door.

“Three casualties?” he asked, forcing himself to straighten. He needed to get some sleep. “Another medal, Commander. Congratulations. How many of them were there, all told?”

“Over five hundred. They refused to surrender, but we captured fifty-three. I sent them to base detention. I recommend that our more prominent guests be moved to other facilities. City detention might be more accommodating and it makes better sense to keep these conspirators spread out.” Dynan agreed and Morlin said he would take care of those arrangements. “My full report will be on your desk in the morning. For now, I hope to return home and dine with my wife and son.”

Dynan smiled. “Give her my regards and apologies for keeping you so often.”

“She understands, but I will.”

“Thank you, Embrin.”

He smiled and nodded easily. “Good evening to you, Your Highness.”

“Let’s hope so.”