Destiny: Child of the Sky

52

The lake of Elysian had not frozen completely. Ashe had run all the way from Kraldurge, and decided it was worth taking the boat, if only not to disturb Rhapsody’s tie to the grotto. She would feel him if he used his water lore to speed him across to the island, and it might upset her. He knew she was probably in shock, undoubtedly in mourning, but how fragile she actually was he would not know until he saw her. He did not want to risk causing her any more trauma than she had already suffered.

The house was dark; not a single light burned in the window. It was as if Elysian was dead, the gardens brown with frostburn, the light in the gazebo gone. Ashe swallowed and rowed faster. Even the song that had filled the cavern was silent; the warmth from Rhapsody’s inner fire utterly absent. Ashe began to panic.

The moment the boat touched the shore he vaulted free of it and ran to the house. He opened the front door and hurried into the parlor, where his senses had felt her. At first he didn’t see her; there were no lamps lit, and the fireplace was cold. Only an infinitesimal glow existed in the room at all. As his eyes adjusted to the dark he found her, sitting on the floor in front of the hearth, staring aimlessly at the blackened bricks.

His senses rushed over her and his throat tightened as they did. She had lost weight, which she could not afford; her formerly flawless face was sunken and there were dark circles under her eyes. Her eyes disturbed him the most; they were cloudy, and, though open, seemed not to focus. She was sitting cross-legged, with her arms wrapped around her chest, her hands tucked beneath her underarms. He cursed himself for misguessing where she would go, leaving her alone for so long.

As he ran to her she looked up for a moment; then, before he could reach her, she bent her neck slightly and pushed the collar of her shirt down, moving her necklace out of the way. Ashe understood the gesture, and it broke his heart: she was making herself voluntarily vulnerable to a killing strike.

The last few paces to her he made by sliding to his knees, throwing his arms around her when he reached her. He buried his face in her neck, kissing her gently, repeatedly, trying to impart wordless consolation to her. For her part, she opened her hand; out fell Crynella’s candle. She clutched herself even tighter and stiffened; he knew by her actions that she expected him to exact revenge on her, to punish her for failing Llauron. The thought turned his stomach.

She whispered something he would not have heard if his ear had not been pressed next to her face.

“Please; end it quickly.”

Ashe seized her arms and turned her to face him, his eyes taking in the ravages of sorrow on her face. He gave her a gentle shake, and as her eyes focused for a moment, he looked into them with all the depth he could muster.

“Aria; hear me. This wasn’t your fault. You’ve done nothing wrong. Please, Rhapsody; don’t let any part of you die because of this. Please.”

She looked at the ground, saying nothing. Ashe took her into his arms and cradled her, trying to make her come around. Finally she spoke softly.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered. “Ashe, I’m so sorry. I couldn’t stop it; I couldn’t save him. He wouldn’t let me.” The agony in her voice brought bile to his throat and tears to the corners of his eyes.

“I know; I know,” he said, caressing her tangled hair.

“I tried to talk him out of it, but I couldn’t.” Her face grew pale in the memory, and she began to babble. “It was my job to protect him; that’s what the Iliachenva’ar does. I’ve dishonored myself, I’ve dishonored the sword and the office. I’m sorry.”

“No. No, that’s not true, Rhapsody.”

“I should have taken Khaddyr down before they even started; I could have killed him easily, the demonic bastard. He’s a thrall of the F’dor, or the demon itself, Ashe; it was my job, and I didn’t do it. I’ve brought disgrace on myself, on Oelendra, gods, on Daystar Clarion itself. I knew I wasn’t worthy but they wouldn’t listen to me, she wouldn’t listen.” She began to tremble in his arms. “I couldn’t save your father, Ashe; I’m so sorry.”

Ashe couldn’t stand it anymore. “You weren’t meant to, Rhapsody.” She didn’t seem to hear him. He took her face in his hands and looked into her eyes, green-gray and lightless. “Did you hear me? I said you weren’t meant to save him. It was a hoax; Llauron is not dead; you were used. I’m sorry, I wish I could tell you in a more gentle way, but you’re frightening me. I can’t let you go on believing that you were responsible for any of this. And that you could even believe that I would take your life—” His voice broke, and he stopped. “I love you, I love you,” he said when he could speak again.

It took some time for her eyes to focus, for the meaning of the words he had spoken to take hold. When they finally did he felt her body tense in his arms. She pushed him away and turned to look into his eyes. “Llauron is not dead?”

“No.” He tried to think of words to console, to explain, but no sound came out of his mouth. The transformation her face was undergoing kept him from speaking. “It was a hoax?”

“Yes.”

“That’s impossible,” she said, rising to a stand. “I lit his pyre myself. I sang his dirge.”

Ashe swallowed, tasting the bile again that had risen to his mouth. “I know, Aria, I’m sorry. I never meant to deceive you. Your starfire was necessary to allow him to enter an elemental state he could not have achieved without you.”

“What does that mean?”

He tried to recall the words he had used to tell her the first time, on the night she had no memory of. “Llauron had grown weary of the limits of his existence in human form. His blood was part dragon, but that nature was dormant. He was aging, ill and in pain, and facing his own mortality—he didn’t have much longer to live in human form. He wanted to come into the fullness of his wyrm identity. The starfire you called down on him gave him the power to change form, transformed him into a dragon state, much like it did for me. It made him almost immortal, like Elynsynos, and gave him the ability, like Elynsynos, to become one with the elements.”

She considered his statement thoughtfully. After a moment her face hardened with comprehension. “Why didn’t he just tell me? Why didn’t you just tell me?” Ashe looked away. “Oh. This was it, wasn’t it? This was the memory you took from me that night, wasn’t it, Ashe?” He couldn’t lie to her. “One of them, yes.”

“There were others?” She sighed dismally, her anger not yet in full force, though he could feel it boiling beneath the surface. “What else?”

His throat closed. One of the things he had come to realize in the time they had been apart, after that last glorious night together, was the danger their marriage might bring on her. Now that their souls were united, if the F’dor knew it would try to use her to find him. Or, far worse, should he be found first and killed, the demon would know his soul was no longer complete, since a piece of it now resided within Rhapsody. It would come after her. Her own lack of knowledge of their wedding was the only thing that was keeping her safe.

He had already come to the horrific realization that he couldn’t tell her they were married until the demon was dead. Now, as she stood trembling before him, unspeakable hurt and growing rage taking root in her eyes, nothing in the world would have been more desirable than to give her back the memory, to tell her he was her husband, and comfort her in all the ways he knew how. But he had to keep the secret. The danger was too great.

“I can’t tell you yet. Believe me, Aria, there is nothing in this world—”

“Believe you?” Rhapsody interrupted. A choked laugh escaped her. “Forgive me if I find that somewhat ironic.”

“You have every right to feel that way.” He took a step toward her, and she took the concurrent step back. “Aria, please—

“Stop calling me that,” she said sternly. “I’m not your lover anymore, Ashe. I doubt the future Lady Cymrian would appreciate it; I know I don’t.”

“Rhapsody—”

“Why, Ashe? Why couldn’t he tell me?”

Ashe sighed. He looked up into her eyes, the stare blistering his soul. “Llauron needed you to act as his herald, and to do so truthfully. He needed you to spread the word, as you did, of his death, so that it would be believed. Since he was the last powerful person standing in the F’dor’s way, it was his hope that his supposed death would bring it out of hiding.”

“But it’s a lie. You just said he isn’t dead.”

“I know.”

“And you knew this plan?”

He hung his head. “Yes,” he said softly.

Rhapsody wrapped her arms around her waist as if she was going to vomit. “You let me lie, Ashe. You let me believe a patent falsehood and spread it, from my lips, across the land. Do you understand what that means?”

He did. He just nodded.

“It means I am no longer a Namer; that I’ve violated my oath. I have lost my ability to be believed, my credibility.” Rage took over her, intensifying her trembling into furious shaking. “Can you understand that, besides losing my profession, I’ve just lost myself, too? That I am a different person now than I was, because of this?”

“No, Rhapsody, not if you don’t let that happen. You had no idea; you told the truth as you knew it.”

“So because it was an unconscious lie, that makes it all right?”

Ashe couldn’t think of anything to say.

Rhapsody turned away from him and clutched her forehead with her hands. She ran her fingers roughly through her hair, trying to calm down. Ashe stayed out of her way, but the words that had been choking him finally made their way out of his lips.

“I’m sorry, Rhapsody. I love you.”

She stopped trembling and turned back to him, as still as a statue. “You know, despite the incredible irony, I believe you mean that.”

“I do mean that.” His voice had a harsh tone in it that rang of his second nature.

“Well, stop it,” she said softly, her voice barely above a whisper. “You don’t even know me anymore, Ashe; even I don’t know me. Besides, what happened to being unencumbered? I thought the ancient Cymrian woman you had picked as Lady deserved total fidelity and devotion, unhindered by thoughts of anyone else. Doesn’t she?”

“Yes.”

Something in his eyes, a deep pain, caught her attention, and she knew he was hiding something. “What, Ashe? What aren’t you telling me?”

It was becoming more and more a struggle to breathe. “Please don’t ask me, Rhapsody.”

Her eyes cleared, and her breath grew shallow and regular. “You’ve seen her, haven’t you?”

“Yes.” He turned away.

“Look at me,” she said. Ashe swallowed, and looked back at her again. “Did you propose to her?”

“Yes.” There was nothing else he could say.

Rhapsody nodded. “And did she accept?”

“Rhapsody—”

“Just tell me, Ashe,” she said, patiently but firmly. “I’ve had all the lies I can stand for one lifetime.”

“Yes, she accepted.”

She nodded again. Ashe’s dragon sense picked up the increase in her heartbeat, the flush of her face as she turned away herself this time, the increased moisture on her palms. Her voice did not betray her, however.

“So, you’re engaged, then?”

“No.”

Rhapsody turned in surprise. “No? What do you mean?”

Ashe tried to think of a way to avoid telling her, to prevent the hurt, but the look in her eyes stopped him cold. “It didn’t seem a good idea to her to just become engaged.”

It took a moment for what he was saying to sink in. When it did, the dragon could feel it, though again her face did not betray her. “You’re married.”

Ashe choked. “Yes,” he whispered. “Rhapsody-She smiled at him; it was a brave smile. Behind her eyes Ashe could feel a small explosion, much like the puff of fine crystal shattering. “It’s all right, Ashe,” she said comfortingly. “I’m glad you told me. It’s not like we didn’t know this was coming.”

He found his voice finally. “Rhapsody, there is much you don’t understand. After the demon is dead, I will tell you everything.”

“That isn’t necessary, or advisable, Ashe,” she said kindly. “You don’t owe me anything now. You never did, really. But you do owe her something; you owe her your full focus and attention—please don’t waste it on me. I don’t need it, nor do I want it.”

He stood up as straight as he could. “After this is over—”

“After this is over, I intend to call the Cymrian Council. It probably is best if you begin serious preparations to take on the Lordship, Ashe. It will undoubtedly come to pass as a result of the Council. Your life will be different, and better.”

“When the demon is dead, and the Council is over, I will introduce you to my wife, Rhapsody, and then you’ll understand.”

“We’ll see,” she said noncommittally. “I’m sure I’ll meet her eventually. In the meantime, I am going back to Tyrian. I think it would be a good idea if I can help work with the different Lirin factions to bring them back together. You should stop in Tomingorllo on your way to the Council. The legend there says if the Lord Cymrian can restore life to the pieces of the Purity Diamond that now comprise the diadem of the Lirin, they will recognize him as their Lord, too, and be one people with the Cymrians. That is probably advisable if you want to quell the racial hatred and border disputes.”

He nodded. “I will see you there, then.”

“No, by then I will be in Ylorc. Once I sound the horn I have to remain within the lands of Canrif until the entire Council convenes. I won’t be there, Ashe; it won’t be awkward for you and the Lady.”

Ashe sighed, and said nothing for a moment. “Is there anything I can do for you, Rhapsody?”

A sad smile crossed her face. “Yes, you know, I think there is something you can do for me.”

“Name it; anything.”

She turned and looked at him thoughtfully; the expression in her eyes contained no hate or anger, but Ashe shivered under the chill of it anyway. It was a look of ultimate resignation.

“You can go away,” she said simply. “I don’t want to see you right now; in fact, I don’t want to see you until the Council meets. I may never want to see you again after that. I wish you every good thing, Ashe, I sincerely do, and you have my very best wishes for a long and happy marriage, but please leave.”

Ashe’s face fell farther than Rhapsody thought a man’s face could. “Aria, I—”

“Stop,” she said, and her tone was firm. “You asked what you could do to help me, and I told you. I did not make the statement lightly. Just go.”

“I can’t go when you are this angry, Rhapsody.”

A smile crept over her face, but the look in her eyes didn’t change. “Why not? You are only making it worse. I am still your friend, and your ally, and if you are chosen Lord I will be your loyal subject. When you seek to unite the Cymrians I will help you in any way I can. But right now the sight of you is only serving to remind me of all the lies, and all the manipulation, that led the Cymrians to their terrible war in the first place.

“Perhaps it is your nature as a people, though I cannot fathom why. The stories of the Seren king I knew always celebrated his great love of the truth and his respect for unity. Maybe the demon has made it impossible for anyone to be honest, but somehow I think the only one that excuses is you. All I know is that I finally understand why Oelendra left the Cymrian Court in disgust and went to live forever with the Lirin; you are unable as a populace to tell the truth, especially to yourselves.” She stopped when the stricken look on his face became more than she could stand.

“I’m very sorry, Ashe,” she said, and there was sympathy in her voice. “I’m sorry that you seem destined to live in constant self-deception, in addition to the deception in which others make you live.

“Achmed was right. Believing there was a hopeful answer to this mess was my own self-deception. I guess I really am a Cymrian, gods help me. But I wish to be away from this. You knew that I could not be a Namer if I didn’t live a truthful life; even now that it is no longer my profession, I wish to live what’s left of it truthfully, anyway. I have done all I can to help you and your father. Now all I desire is peace. Please don’t come back.”

Ashe choked back the tears and bile that rose within him. “Rhapsody, I hope you know that, whatever I’ve done, I never intended to hurt you.” He stopped at the expression on her face, a face that had borne the signs of inestimable pain and sorrow when he first arrived, only to have the appearance deepen into abject disgust and loathing. She hates me, he thought, and for a moment worried about the possibility that the dragon might become enraged, but even that element of his soul couldn’t deny her right to feel that way.

“What do you want me to say, Ashe? That’s it’s all right? You have hurt me. I’ll live. It was one of the first things Achmed ever taught me: tuck your chin, you’re going to get hurt, so expect it and be ready.

“It’s my fault, really; I keep forgetting that the outcome is inevitable, and I let my guard down over and over. I think you would lose all respect for me if I were to tell you that it’s all right again. I know I would certainly lose respect for myself. I don’t want to spend one more second of my life listening to you apologize for having to lie to me, or knocking me into a wall, or frightening me. Let it rest, Ashe, please. Go back to your wife and let me heal. I’ll be over it sooner or later. Please, just leave now.”

“Rhapsody—”

“Go,” she said softly. She went to the stairs and began to ascend them. “Goodbye, Ashe. May your life be long and happy. Please close the door behind you.” She went upstairs, turning toward the turreted study.

Ashe watched her go. He could sense her moving to the window, sitting on the window seat within the turret, waiting to see him board the boat and leave Elysian forever.

He went to the fireplace and opened the door next to it, where the wood was stored. Quickly he built and lit a fire for her, unwilling to leave her alone in the cold house, chilled more by the happenings in their lives than by the freezing winter temperatures. Then he picked up Crynella’s candle from the floor, the token of remembrance she had thought to bring back for him; even in her devastation she was thinking of him.

His throat tightened as he watched the fire begin to take. She had not even understood the significance of what she had done. Despite Khaddyr’s assumption that the power of the office was in Llauron’s oaken staff, it actually resided within the trinket he had kept on his belt, the ancient mixing of fire and water. The office of Invoker belonged to Ashe now.

When the flames had caught he took his leave, walking to the boat without looking back. When he was finally away from shore he turned to see her, watching him from the curved window. He put his hand up in the air, holding the watercandle aloft; she waved to him as the darkness of the cavern swallowed him up. Then he began to breathe shallowly, concentrating on containing his anger, until he had reached the other side of the underground lake.

Later that night, the skies above the Sorboldian plain flashed with bloody light, like the calm before a tornado. Thunder rolled across the firmament of the heavens, and the Bolg that were watching from the outskirts of the Teeth hastily took shelter as fire began to rain down from the sky, scorching the land and turning the air to arid dust.

In a distant forest, within the silent bedchamber of his new abode, Khaddyr the Invoker woke from a dream of comforting darkness in a cold sweat. He could feel the desolation of the land beneath the dragon’s breath; the Tree sensed every crackling flame as it plunged earthward, burning everything around it. And in his heart Khaddyr knew the dragon was coming for him.