Armageddon’s Children

TWENTY-FOUR

KIRISIN WAITED AN entire week for Arissen Belloruus to summon him. He remained patient, telling himself he must not act in haste or out of frustration, that research of the Elven histories and conferences with official advisers took time. It wasn't as if the King didn't care what happened to the Ellcrys and the Elven people; it was that he must be careful to do the right thing. Kirisin saw it more clearly than the King did, of course; from his perspective the decision to do what the Ellcrys had asked was not debatable. But he was only a boy, and he lacked the experience and wisdom of his elders.

He told himself all this, but even as he did so he was thinking that he was dealing with a family of duplicitous cowards.

It was a terrible thing to believe, but ever since he had come to the conclusion that both the King and Erisha had lied to him he had been unable to think anything else. Erisha's betrayal was worse, because she was a Chosen.

Being a Chosen bound them in ways that even blood could not, and no Chosen had betrayed another in living memory.

But Kirisin kept his anger in check and went about his business.

He worked in the gardens with the others, caring for the Ellcrys and the grounds in which she was rooted. He performed at the morning greetings and evening farewells. He smiled and joked with Biat and the others–although not with Erisha, who would barely look at him most of the time–trying his best to make it appear that nothing was amiss. Apparently, his efforts were successful.

No one seemed to notice anything out of the ordinary, or said another word about what had happened that first morning.

The tree did not speak again. Kirisin was certain she would, that her need, so palpable when she had spoken to him, would require it. He willed it to happen each sunrise when he joined the others to wish her good morning and each sunset when they gathered to say good night. He prayed for it to happen, for some small exchange to take place, a reminder of what had passed between them, even a warning or admonition. But nothing happened. The Ellcrys remained silent.

In the times he was free to do what he wanted, he wrote in his journal of his thoughts and concerns, putting down everything he was struggling with, even his thoughts of the King and his daughter. He tried to imagine the King's thinking, to put himself in Arissen Belloruus's frame of mind so that he could better understand. But it was a miserable failure, a process to find a justification for what he did not believe. All it did was further convince him that something was terribly wrong and needed righting.

He thought to speak of it to his parents more times than he could count, but he could not bring himself to do so. He knew that if he voiced his concerns to them, they would act on their feelings, just as he had, and take the matter directly to the King. That would invite a disaster for which Kirisin did not want to be responsible. His parents were already suspect after their efforts to move a colony of Elves to Paradise. The King would have no patience with an intrusion of this sort, particularly if he was hiding something. The best Kirisin could do for them in this situation was to leave them out of it.

He kept hoping Simralin would come home. He could tell his sister what had happened and know that she would offer a thoughtful response. That was her nature; she was not given to rash acts and emotional outbursts like the rest of his family. Simralin would think it all through; she would know what was needed.

But the days passed and Simralin did not come home, the King did not summon him, the Ellcrys did not speak to him, and his thoughts grew steadily darker and more distressed as he carried out his Chosen duties in mechanical fashion and waited futilely for something to happen.

"You seem like your head is somewhere else lately/' Biat told him at one point, squatting down beside him as he worked on the flower beds. "Is that business with the Ellcrys still bothering you?"

Overhead, the sun was high in the sky, a blazing orb burning down on the Cintra. There had been no rain in weeks. Everything was drying up, Kirisin thought, including his secret hopes.

"I've just been wondering how Simralin is," he replied.

"Better than most," Biat smirked. "She's the Tracker all the other Trackers wish they could be. Smart, beautiful, talented–everything you're not.

Too bad for you."

Too bad indeed, thought Kirisin as his friend wandered away.

For a long time, he did not visit the tree alone at night as he had for so long. Part of him wanted to, but part of him was afraid to face her. He didn't know which prospect was worse–that she might not speak to him ever again or that she might, and no one would be there to see it or believe that it had happened.

Finally, he could stand it no longer. Six nights into his fruitless vigil, when he was sure the others were asleep, he went to visit her. It was a moonlit night, and he found his way without difficulty and stood before her as a supplicant might before a shrine. Her silvery bark shimmered brightly, and the reflection of the moonlight brought out the crimson color of her leaves in startling relief. He stared at her reverentially, trying to think what more he could do. He knew he had to do something. He knew he couldn't wait any longer on the King or anyone else.

He walked up to her finally and placed the tips of his fingers on her smooth trunk. Speak to me, he thought. Tell me what to do.

But the Ellcrys did not respond, even though he waited a long time, speaking softly, telling her his thoughts, trying to break through the wall of her silence. If she heard what he was saying, if she even knew he was there, she gave no sign of it. When he had exhausted himself and his efforts had yielded him nothing, he gave it up and went off to sleep.

The following day was hot and dry, and as he worked in the gardens with the others, Kirisin felt the last of his patience slip away. It had been a week now since he had gone to Arissen Belloruus, and despite his resolve not to act in haste or frustration, he did. It was a precipitous act triggered by Erisha.

After days of ignoring him, he caught her looking at him when she thought he wasn't paying attention. There was nothing overtly offensive about the act, nothing that should have set him off, but that was the effect it had. He climbed to his feet, sweaty and tired and mad enough to eat the dirt he was digging up, and stalked over to where she was standing next to Raya, ostensibly instructing the other girl on the pruning of callisto vines. Erisha saw him coming, read what was mirrored on his face, and tried to move away. But he would have none of it. He went after her, caught up to her, and blocked her way.

"What's the matter, Erisha?" he snapped, hands on hips, face flushed and taut. "Is your conscience bothering you, cousin? Is that why you are sneaking looks at me?"

She faced him down for a moment, then brushed quickly at her chestnut hair and turned away. "Grow up, Kirisin."

He was back in front of her immediately, blocking her path. "How about this? I'll grow up when you stop lying. That's a reasonable trade, isn't it?

Let's start right now. You tell me the truth about your father, and I'll start acting like an adult."

"I don't know what you are talking about." She tried again to move past him, and again he stopped her. "Get out of my way, Kirisin. If you keep this up, I'll have you disciplined."

"Go ahead!" He shouted the words and threw up his hands, ignoring the others, who were beginning to turn toward them to see what was happening. "Do it now! Do it in front of the others! Let's tell them all about it and see what they think!"

She reached for his hands and pulled them down, her face inches from his own. "You stop this right now!" Cold rage etched her words in ice. "What do you think you are doing? Maybe you better go home for the rest of the day and see if you don't have a fever!"

"Maybe you better stop poisoning your mind with your own lies and try healing yourself with the truth!"

He shoved his face so close that their noses were almost touching. His voice dropped to a whisper. "This is what I know. What I know, Erisha! Not what I imagined or made up out of thin air, but what I know! The Ellcrys spoke to me a week ago today. She told me that she is in danger. She told me that that something bad is going to happen. She told me that she would have to be placed in an Elfstone called a Loden, which will be found by using three other Elfstones called seeking-Stones. She told me that if this doesn't happen she won't survive what is coming and neither will the Elves."

His hands seized her wrists, and he held her fast. "You knew this and you told your father about it. You did it secretly, but I found out because when I went to your father to tell him of the tree speaking to me, I did not mention the seeking-Stones. But your father did. He knew all about the three finding the one. He knew! That couldn't have happened if you hadn't told him before I did. Admit it!"

He waited, eyes locked on hers. "All right," she whispered back finally.

"I told him. I waited until you left the gardens, and then I sneaked away and told him. I didn't want him to hear it from you; I am the leader of the Chosen.

It was necessary that it come from me. Now will you let me go?"

Kirisin stared at her in silence. She was still lying. He was so angry now that he thought he might strike her. Instead, he said, "I want you to take a walk with me, Erisha. Away from the others, where they can't hear what we say."

She shook her head quickly. "Not when you're like this."

He released her wrists, stepped back, and folded his arms. "All I want is for you to listen to me. But if you want to continue this conversation here, then let's bring the others over, and that way they won't have to work so hard at eavesdropping."

Erisha shot a quick glance at the other Chosen and saw all of them watching intently, tools lowered, eyes expectant. She hesitated, and then nodded her agreement.

"Finish your work," she called over to them. "Kirisin and I have something we have to discuss. I'll be right back."

She took his arm at the elbow and practically dragged him from the clearing and into the woods beyond, taking a narrow, little–used path that led to the bluffs overlooking the valleys west. He let himself be led, content to wait until they were well away from the others before he had it out with her.

Whatever else happened this day, he was going to get to the truth of things. If she refused to give it to him willingly, he would pry it out of her.

When they were well into the trees, she wheeled back angrily and poked him in the chest. "What happens between my father and me isn't any business of yours, cousin." She emphasized the word. "You have no right to question me about him."

Kirisin held his ground. "I do when he lies to me. Or when you lie. Like you just did again back there. I spoke to Biat after I came back from your home.

You never left the gardens. You told your father, all right. But it wasn't then; it was much earlier. That's why the Ellcrys asked me why she had been forsaken.

That's why she said to me that I had to listen to her: because even she – meaning you — hadn't. She told you everything before she ever spoke to me, and you did nothing about it. Why are you lying to me?"

Her face was hard and angry. "I'm not lying!"

But he could tell by the way she said it that she was. He gave her a pitying look. "You know, when this is all over, Erisha, you're going to have to live with the consequences. You seem to think nothing will happen to the Ellcrys, but what if it does? What if she dies? You took an oath to care for her, just like the rest of us. How will you justify failing her?"

She shook her head defensively. "I won't fail her."

"You already have. So have I. All of us have. We haven't done a thing to help her! She has begged for our help, pleaded for it, but we've ignored her. I don't know about you, but I can't live with that. It means something to me to be a Chosen. I accepted that duty, and I won't neglect it just because you or your father or anyone else decides it's all right to do so. What's wrong with you? Don't you feel any obligation for her safety? Why are you acting like this?"

Her lips were compressed into a tight line, and she was still shaking her head. She tried to speak and couldn't.

"Well, you have to do what you think is right," he continued, stepping close again. "You have to answer to yourself for your choices. But I am going back to your father and demand that he do something. And if that fails, I will go to the High Council and ask them! And if that fails, I will go to anyone who will listen. In fact, I'll start with Biat and the others. Right after I walk away from here, I'll go straight to them and tell them what you and your father are doing!"

"You'd better not, Kirisin!" she said with a hiss. "You don't know what my father would do to you for that!"

"Oh, so now I'm being threatened? I am not like you, Erisha. I am not afraid of your father!"

"I'm not afraid of him, either!" she snapped, tears springing to her eyes.

"You're scared to death of him," he said, and realized suddenly that it was true, that for reasons he didn't understand, she was.

"You …!" she started, but couldn't finish. She had collapsed inside herself, and she lowered her head; her hands came up to hide the tears and distress. "I hate you," she said softly.

"No, you don't."

"I do!" she insisted.

"Tell me the truth," he pressed.

"You don't understand anything!" she shouted loud enough that he backed away a step.

"Then why don't you help me understand? Tell my why everyone is lying to me!"

She threw up her hands, her hair flying everywhere. "I can't tell you! My father …" She choked on the words as they left her mouth. "I mean, I … I can't!"

"He said you couldn't tell me, didn't he?" Kirisin guessed. "Isn't that right? Admit it."

She looked at him, defeated. "You won't give up, will you? You won't quit asking until you know." She took a long, slow breath and exhaled. "All right, I'll tell you. But if you tell anyone else, I'll say you're lying."

It was an empty threat, but there was no reason to point that out. "Just say it, Erisha," he said.

She compressed her lips, tightening her resolve. "I didn't want to pretend I didn't know about the Ellcrys, but my father said I had to. He said I couldn't tell anyone." She wiped at the tears. "He is not just my father; he is the King. What was I supposed to do?"

Kirisin didn't say anything; he simply waited on her. After a moment, she glanced up, as if to make sure he was still listening, and then just as quickly looked away.

"I love what I do, Kirisin, even if you don't think so. I believe in what I do. I wouldn't trade it for anything, and I …" She trailed off. "Sometimes I go to see her at night, just like you do. I like being close to her, being alone with her. I can feel her watching me. I know that's silly, but that's how it seems. I sit in the gardens and just… be with her. She never did anything to let me know she was aware of me until two weeks ago. That was when she told me about the danger that was coming and about putting her inside the Loden for protection."

She shook her head helplessly. "I didn't know what to do. I had to tell someone right away. I decided to go to my father. I begged him to do something. At first I thought he was going to help. But then he said it was more complicated than I realized. He said that I didn't understand what I was asking, that I didn't know enough about the Loden to appreciate what would happen if he did as I asked. He said we had to wait until my term as a Chosen was over. Once I was no longer a Chosen, then he would act."

She held up her hands as he started to speak. "I know. I told him I didn't see how we could wait that long. But my father said that in terms of an Ellcrys lifetime, it was nothing. The Ellcrys had been alive for hundreds of years. A few months in the tree's life was little more than what a day would be to us. Less, maybe. It wasn't necessary to act right away."

"He can't know that," Kirisin objected.

"What he can't know," Erisha said wearily, "is what might happen to me if he doesn't make me wait."

Kirisin started to respond and then stopped. "What do you mean?"

"I mean that there is more to this than you or I know. The Loden is an Elfstone, a talisman of magic. My father says there is great risk to the one who uses it. He wouldn't reveal the nature of that risk, only that he wasn't going to allow me to take it. I told him I wasn't afraid. I told him that I was leader of the Chosen, and that I was the one who had to take it."

She saw the look on his face and scowled. "You can believe me or not, Kirisin, but that was what I said to him. It made him furious. He told me that I didn't know what I was talking about. He said that my time as a Chosen was almost up and I wasn't going to be allowed to do this. Someone would have to take on the responsibility of using the Elfstone, but it wasn't going to be me."

She shook her head helplessly. "When I tried to object, he shouted me down. He was so angry! I have never seen him so angry. What could I do? He is my father! He was insistent about it!"

A long silence settled between them. They stared at each other, neither ready to say anything more right away. Kirisin was unsure how he should feel. He was furious at the King, but on the other hand he understood how Arissen Belloruus would want to protect his only daughter from what he perceived to be the danger of using the Loden. What bothered him most, however, was a nagging suspicion that the King might not have told Erisha everything he knew, that he might be holding something back. He had been duplicitous with Kirisin; there was nothing to say he was being any less so with her.

"What are you going to do?" she asked him finally.

In point of fact, he didn't know. He had thought knowing the truth of things would give him the answer to that question, but it hadn't. He was as much adrift now as he had been before.

"How does your father know that the Loden might be a danger to the user?" he asked.

She shrugged. "When I told him what the Ellcrys had said, he had me wait while he sent old Culph to study the histories to see what they said about it.

It was after Culph had done so that he decided I couldn't have anything to do with the matter. He found out something about what would happen if the Loden were used, but as I said, he wouldn't tell me."

Kirisin thought it through some more. Then he said to her, "Don't you want to know what that something is?"

She shook her head doubtfully. "I'm not sure if I do or not."

"At least you would know how dangerous it really is to use the Loden. You would know if your father is right to forbid you."

"Maybe."

"You said you took your Chosen oath seriously. If that's so, don't you have to find out what you're risking if you try to help the Ellcrys?" He paused.

"She asked you for help first, Erisha. Not me. She didn't ask me until it must have seemed that you had abandoned her. But you were the one she wanted."

Erisha looked miserable. "I know who she asked, Kirisin. What are you suggesting I do?"

"Have a look at the histories. That way you can make up your own mind.

I'll help you. I don't expect you to do this alone. Maybe we'll find the answer faster if there are two of us searching."

She was silent again, thinking. "I don't know."

"Remember when we were kids?" he asked impulsively. He reached out and touched her lightly on the shoulder. "We'd chase all through the woods outside your house and pretend we were on an adventure. Sometimes we would do it at night, when the woods were dark and scary. We pretended we were looking for secret treasure. We were friends, then. I know it doesn't seem like it right now, but I think we still are. I don't know why your father is so worried about what might happen to you, but I want to help you find out. Why don't you give me a chance? Don't you want to know the reason?"

She stared fixedly at him, as if not certain who he was. Then she said, "We would have to sneak into the room where the histories are stored. Old Culph is poking around in there all the time. We would have to get in when he was sleeping or he would want to know what we're doing and would probably tell my father." She paused, thinking. "But I know how to get into the room, even after it's locked."

She was getting caught up in the idea of doing something, of shedding the burden of guilt she had been carrying for obeying her father's wishes and ignoring her duty as a Chosen.

"Are you willing to do that?" he pressed, wanting to make sure she wouldn't change her mind. "If you decide to disobey him, he will probably be pretty angry."

"He will be furious/' she agreed, looking doubtful again.

"But you can't worry about that right now," he insisted. He watched her face, measuring her resolve. "Not until we find out what he knows that we don't."

She shook her head. "I suppose not." Her eyes lifted to meet his. "No, not until we find out."

The doubt he had seen a moment earlier was gone. He exhaled sharply in relief. "Can we do it tonight?" he asked.

She nodded, determination mirrored on her face. "We can do it tonight."

THE REMAINDER OF the day passed slowly for Kirisin. He kept as busy as he could in the gardens, his thoughts drifting constantly to what Erisha had revealed to him. His emotions were mixed. On the one hand, he could understand her father's reluctance to place his only child in danger. On the other, she was leader of the Chosen and the one the Ellcrys had asked for help. It seemed to him that both her father's and her own duties were clear, but he didn't know how he would act if he were King and Erisha were his daughter, so he tried not to judge them–even as he found himself doing so. Kirisin had always looked up to and admired Arissen Belloruus, but he didn't think he would ever feel that way again. How he would feel about Erisha remained to be seen. It would depend on what happened this night. It would depend on how she reacted to whatever they learned from the Elven histories.

One thing was certain. His parents would be furious if they were to learn that their cousin was willing to endanger the entire Elven nation to protect his daughter. Which is why Kirisin would have to keep it from them, since he knew that they would take the matter right to the King and how that was likely to end for all of them.

Sunset was a long time coming, and he had more than sufficient time to mull things over. By then, he was sick of thinking about it and anxious to act.

But first there was dinner with his parents, talk of Simralin and her anticipated arrival home and household chores he was expected to carry out. He went to bed early, feigning weariness, and slept restlessly for several hours before waking an hour before midnight. After listening to be sure the rest of the household was asleep, he rose and dressed. Taking his long knife and his sandals, he climbed through the window and disappeared into the darkness without a sound.

The Elven community was quiet, most of the people either in bed or on their way. The sky was overcast and shed only a little light, so Kirisin was forced to rely on his Elven senses to help him pick his way through the blackness. The air was still and warm, the night cloaked in silence and hushed expectancy. He moved cautiously down the narrow paths that led to the Belloruus home, picking his way and listening for sounds that would alert him to another's presence. He heard none, and he arrived at the edges of the King's home without incident.

Crouching in the bushes at the prearranged spot, just beyond the perimeter where the guards patrolled, he waited for midnight and Erisha.

Several times it occurred to him that no one knew where he was. If anything happened to him, no one would know where to look for him. It was a chilling thought–that the Elven King might do something to silence him–but he could not help thinking about it in light of what he now knew about the man. If he were willing to risk endangering the Ellcrys to protect his daughter, he wouldn't have much trouble finding an excuse for removing a troublesome boy.

It made him wonder. Would Erisha have gone back on her word and betrayed him to her father?

He was still wondering when she appeared out of the darkness, dressed as he was, a shadowy presence in the gloom. "This way," she whispered, putting her mouth right next to his ear. "The guards won't see us. Their eyes look elsewhere for the next few minutes. Hurry!"

He followed her through the trees, doing his best to place his feet exactly where she did, casting anxious glances all about–for the Home Guard and whoever or whatever else kept the King safe. But no one appeared and no alarms sounded, and in only minutes they were at a side door that gave soundlessly at Erisha's touch and admitted them into the Belloruus house.

Kirisin stood just inside the doorway, breathing hard despite himself.

Erisha had stopped in front of him, apparently listening, making sure that it was safe. Satisfied, she took his arm and pulled him ahead. They went slowly, passing through rooms lit by tiny candles that gave just enough light to permit them to find their way without falling over the furniture. Once or twice, Erisha stopped and listened anew before proceeding. They reached a door that opened onto the stairway that led to the library housing the Elven histories and started down. Erisha was carrying a smokeless torch now to light their way. The air grew cooler and the silence deeper. They went down several flights until they reached the bottom level and stood in a small anteroom with a worktable and several chairs. A pair of doors were set into earthen walls shored up with beams and siding.

Erisha walked to the door on the right and opened it carefully, thrusting the torch inside for a quick look. Satisfied, she turned back to Kirisin and beckoned him forward. They entered the room, which was filled with shelves and cabinets crammed with books and papers, all marked by printed labels and numbers. Erisha moved to the back of the room, casting about as she went, searching. She stopped finally and pointed to a set of books that were ancient and dust–covered, bound in leather and labeled in gilt. She took down the first two volumes and passed one to him.

"These are the histories," she whispered. "Do you want to carry them outside to the table?"

He shook his head. "Let's stay in here."

Together, they sat cross–legged on the wooden slat floor, placed the torch between them, opened the books, and began to read.

It was a long, slow process. The order in which the contents of the books had been recorded was confusing; it didn't seem to be chronological or by subject. The writing on the pages was small and cramped, and many of the words were unfamiliar. Kirisin quickly decided it would take too long to read everything and suggested to Erisha that they search for key words such as Ellcrys and Elfstones, stopping to read the text when they found either. They did so and were able to turn the pages more quickly, but still found only infrequent mention of either word.

Worse, they did not once come across even the smallest reference to the Loden.

They finished the first two books and moved on to the next pair. Time was slipping away. Kirisin found himself glancing at Erisha, who was absorbed in her reading and paying no attention to him. He was surprised that she had come around so completely, but gratified, too. He was thinking better of her already.

If they found something and she acted on it, he might even be willing to reassess …

"Looking for something?" a voice growled from out of the darkness of the doorway.

Kirisin felt his heart stop. He met Erisha's frightened gaze as her head jerked up, and he could not look away.