Prophecy: Child of Earth

52

Ashe finally released her, Rhapsody sat back down on the bench.

“Well, that was interesting,” she said, smoothing her silken skirt. “I can’t wait for the encore. So what is it you have to tell me?”

Ashe shuddered. He knew how difficult the news he needed to break would be to hear, and he wasn’t ready to give up the glow they were sharing, not yet.

“Will you sing for me, Rhapsody?” he asked, sitting down at her feet.

“You’re stalling,” she scolded. “I have a feeling this is going to be a late night; we have a lot more to discuss, plus the renaming ritual. I have to leave early in the morning, so I’ll make you a offer: you tell me what it is you need to, and I’ll make my request of you, and then we’ll rename you and I’ll sing to you afterward. Fair enough?”

Ashe sighed. “Very well,” he said, trying not to let his disappointment show. “Please understand I would rather die at this moment than tell you what I am about to.”

Alarm crossed Rhapsody’s face. “Why?”

Ashe rose and sat beside her again, taking her hands. “Because I know what I am going to tell you will hurt you, and you must know by now that I seek to avoid that whenever possible.”

Calm returned to Rhapsody’s expression. “All right, Ashe. Just tell me.”

“In a little while my father will approach you and ask if you’d like to accompany him on a journey. I don’t know the destination; it’s insignificant anyway. You will never get there.”

“What are you talking about?”

Ashe’s eyes met hers for a moment. “Please, Rhapsody; this is far too difficult as it is. Just listen, and then I’ll explain. And if, after all this, you want to revoke your permission for me to keep this memory, I will understand and yield to your decision.”

Rhapsody squeezed his hands supportively. “Just tell me,” she said gently.

“In the midst of your travels with Llauron, the two of you will be confronted by Lark and a band of renegade followers. She will challenge my father to mortal combat, one of the rites of passage for Llauron’s seat of power. Llauron will have no choice but to accept, and in the course of the combat Lark will kill him.”

Rhapsody leapt from the bench in shock. “What? No. That will not happen, Ashe. I will not let that happen.”

“You won’t be able to prevent it, Aria. You will have been bound by an oath to my father not to intervene in any circumstance. Your choice will be between watching him die, or violating your holy word, and surrendering Day-star Clarion. I’m sorry; I’m so sorry,” he said brokenly, watching horror creep into her face, the face that only moments before had been transfixed in happiness.

Rhapsody turned away from him and wrapped her arms around her waist, ready to vomit. Ashe’s senses felt the blood drain from her face and hands, leaving her pale and shaking. Finally she turned to him again, a look of disbelief in her eyes that choked his heart.

“I refuse to believe,” she said slowly, “that you are in league with Lark, that you would plot with her to assassinate your own father.”

Ashe hung his head. “You are half right,” he said softly. “I am not in league with Lark.”

“Then who? Who are you in league with?”

Ashe turned away, unable to meet her gaze. “My father.”

“Look at me,” Rhapsody commanded, her voice harsh. Ashe looked up, his face filled with shame. “What are you talking about?”

“My father has planned, almost from the moment you arrived, to use you to help him achieve his goals. The first was flushing out the F’dor, though I think that has pretty much succumbed to the second.”

“That being?”

“Llauron has grown weary of the limits of his existence in human form,” Ashe said hollowly. “His blood is part dragon, but that nature is dormant. He is aging, and in pain, and facing his own mortality, which is closer than you might expect. He wants to come into the fullness of his wyrm identity. If he can do that he will be almost immortal, and have the elemental power that you, and your Firbolg companions, and even I, wield now, but on a much greater scale. He will become one with the elements, Aria; where you affect or command the fire, he will be the fire. Or the water, or the ether; it doesn’t matter.”

“Like Elynsynos?”

“Exactly. And like Elynsynos, to achieve this he needs to forswear his mortal form, and assume an elemental one, but without dying, before he can move on to the elemental existence he craves. Once he discovered that Lark was plotting against him, long ago, he has been laying plans to turn the situation to his advantage. This last part—your part—is his final manipulation in getting what he wants.”

Rhapsody’s eyes broke the lock with his, and looked off over the gardens and the lake, assimilating what he was saying. “But you just said he would be killed.”

Ashe winced. “Everyone will believe so—even you, Rhapsody. He will bring herbs and tonics to induce a deathlike state in himself, and so when you and Lark examine his body, you will both believe he has died.”

Rhapsody walked to the edge of the gazebo and sat down on the top step leading down into the garden. She looked across the lake at the waterfall, trying to focus the thoughts that were running helter-skelter through her mind. “And what is the point of that? So he convinces Lark, and me, that he is dead when he’s not? What can that possibly accomplish?”

“Lark is in league with the F’dor, though who that is still remains hidden. Llauron has known for quite some time that the F’dor had an accomplice among his ranks, but he wasn’t certain of who it is until recently. If Lark believes Llauron is dead, she will eventually communicate this information to the F’dor, and I will be waiting to track her to it. Also, other turncoats may be with her, and then I will know who else I need to kill.”

She looked back over her shoulder, her eyes burning like a grassfire. “But why me, Ashe? Why does Llauron need to deceive me, too? Why am I hearing this from you, under the sentence of losing the memory of it? Why didn’t he just ask for my help? I’ve been advancing the reunification of the Cymrians until Achmed and Grunthor have threatened to hurl me from the mountain if I don’t stop. Gods, haven’t I proven my friendship and loyalty to this man yet?”

Ashe withered under her gaze. “Of course you have. But there are two reasons. The first is that they will both expect you to act as the herald, as a Singer, a Namer. Both Llauron and Lark know you will only speak the truth as you know it, as you witness it. So if you believe him to be dead, then the rest of the world will, too. It will fall to you to proclaim the news. Both Lark and Llauron are counting on this, Lark to assert her right as the new head of the Filids, and Llauron to accredit his charade. Perhaps if you weren’t so honest, he might have told you, hoping you would follow his plan anyway. But I’m afraid your reputation precedes you, darling.”

Acid retorts rose to Rhapsody’s lips, remembering the same words in Mi chad’s mouth long ago, but she choked them back bitterly. She looked away again, trying to spare him the fury she knew was obvious in her countenance. “And the second reason?”

Ashe swallowed. “Aria, if you love me, please don’t ask me. Just believe that you would not participate if you knew.” He ran his hands through his metallic hair, now wet with perspiration.

Rhapsody stood slowly, crossed her arms and turned around. “Very well, Ashe; since I do love you, I won’t ask you. But I believe you will tell me anyway. Given what we just promised each other, I cannot imagine you would hold anything back from me, knowing that it will hurt me either way. You may as well just say it.”

Ashe’s eyes finally met hers, and beyond the anger he saw sympathy; she understood the difficulty this was causing him. Past that, he knew she trusted him, though he certainly had given her cause not to. He closed his eyes.

“Llauron will ask you to promise, before the combat begins, that if he should die—” His voice broke.

“Keep going,” she said impatiently. “What will I be bound to do?”

“Believing him dead, you will have promised to light his funeral pyre by calling fire from the stars with Daystar Clarion. The flames will consume his body; it is the crucial first step in his quest for elemental immortality. He cannot go on to what he wishes to become without this happening. Llauron needs the two elements of fire and ether to begin his journey to full dragon-hood. He knows you will not fail him if you promise to do it.”

He heard nothing in response, and opened his eyes. Rhapsody was staring at him, her own eyes as wide as he had ever seen them, trembling violently.

“But he won’t really be dead.”

“No.”

“I will be burning him alive. I will be killing him myself.”

“Aria—”

Rhapsody bolted from the gazebo, and seconds later Ashe heard the sounds of retching in the bushes below it, followed by heartbreaking sobs. Ashe struck one of the gazebo columns with his head, his hands clenched in fury. He struggled to contain his wrath, and the rise of the dragon, knowing she needed him to be steady far more than he needed the release turning it loose would bring. He paced the gazebo, waiting for her to return, sensing the ebb and flow of the anguish that poured out of her as she wept, fighting the urge to comfort her when it would only upset her more.

Finally the tears stopped, and a moment later Rhapsody came up the stairs into the gazebo again. Her face was florid, but calm, and her dress, though wrinkled, had been smoothed into place. She met his eyes, and her gaze was without recrimination, without sympathy; he couldn’t tell if she was feeling anything at all.

“So this is what Manwyn was alluding to,” she said. “This was the information that upset you, that made you need to take that memory. You were afraid that, in my partial understanding, I might slip and reveal the plot early, or to the wrong people. This is what you are erasing from my mind; this subterfuge, and what Manwyn said about it.”

There was no point in lying. “Yes.”

“And the memory of your proposal? Why can’t I remember that you wanted me to marry you, and that I’ve agreed?”

“Because you will be near one of the primary minions of the F’dor. Right now they need you to give Lark legitimacy. If they thought they could get to me through you, however, that would most likely be far more important to them. If there is any chance they might discover our promise, that we are bound, one to the other, it would put you in far graver danger.” She nodded. “Can you forgive me?”

Rhapsody’s face remained passionless. “I’m not sure there is anything to forgive you for, Ashe.”

“I could have refused. I could have put a stop to this plan.”

“How? By being disloyal to your own father, in my favor? Thank you, no. I don’t want that on my head. This is Llauron’s manipulation, Ashe—you’re as much a puppet here as I am.”

“Albeit a knowing one. Therein lies the difference. So, Rhapsody, what will it be? Do you want to revoke your permission, keep the memory? Avoid all this? You have my wholehearted support if you want to.”

“No,” she answered shortly. “That would be going back on my word to you, even if you give me the right to do so. And besides, what will you do then? It’s too late, Ashe, much too late. We can only play our parts, and promise that, when this is all over, we will live our own lives honestly, without this kind of deception.”

He came to her, and cradled her face in his hands. “Can there be any doubt why I love you so much?”

Rhapsody pulled away, turning her back to him. “Doubt is not a good concept to discuss at this point, Ashe. In fact, I will allay one more doubt for you.”

His throat tightened. “That being?”

She leaned forward on the gazebo railing, staring across the water. “One might wonder, if Manwyn had not slipped and revealed this information, whether you would have told me like this, or whether you would have let it happen without telling me, knowing it would transpire, regardless? Being powerless to stop it? Don’t answer, Ashe. Since, as Achmed says, I am the Queen of Self-Deception, I choose to believe you would have. And if I am wrong, I don’t want to know anyway.”

Ashe rested his chin on her shoulder, wrapping his arms around her waist. “One day this beautiful head may wear many crowns, Rhapsody. Certainly you are already the queen of my heart. But the open-handed, open-hearted trust that you bless this world with is by no means self-deception. Your trust hasn’t been ill-placed, has it? You chose to trust Achmed, and, even though he is an obnoxious miscreant, he is a great friend to you. And you chose to trust me; I would probably be dead and eternally within the hands of the demon without that trust. Your heart is wiser than you think.”

“Then I assume you will forgive me one last offensive but necessary question that my heart needs to know the answer to?”

“Of course.” He smiled, but his eyes glittered nervously.

“Are you absolutely certain that Llauron isn’t the host of the F’dor himself?”

Ashe buried his lips in her golden hair and sighed. “One can never be absolutely certain of anything where the F’dor is concerned, Aria. I can’t believe that he is, however. Llauron is very powerful, and the F’dor can only possess someone it is stronger than. In addition, he hates it with every fiber of his being, has been hunting it for a very long time. He will do anything he has to—anything—to find it and destroy it, including compromising you. You may not believe this, but Llauron is very fond of you.” He chuckled as she rolled her eyes. “But that doesn’t matter, of course, I’m sorry to say. He’s rather fond of me, too, but that never stopped him from manipulating me, either.

“I’ve come to realize over time that your friendship with Achmed and Grunthor is the only thing that saved you from Llauron attempting to make you the agent of his plans long ago. When you first came to him, he knew Achmed and Grunthor were with you, but then they left for a while, and he felt you were free and clear of them. He began training you at the Circle in all the lore of the Filids. But then they came back and took you away with them. He has never really gotten over it, though he puts on a good face about it. I think you can trust that he would not do anything to harm you, but he will manipulate you in any way he can to get what he wants.”

Rhapsody sighed. “Is that all there is to this story? There’s nothing else, is there?”

“Gods, isn’t that enough?”

“More than enough,” she said, turning in his arms and managing a weak smile. “I just wanted to be sure.”

Ashe kissed her gently. “You said you had a request to make of me. What is it? Anything you ask, it’s yours. Just name it.”

Rhapsody winced. “After all that, it seems foolish.”

“Nonsense. Tell me what I can do for you. Please, Aria, give me something to do that will prove my love to you, something to begin to make up for all this deception. What was it you were going to ask of me?”

Rhapsody looked embarrassed. “I wanted to know if—if you would let me—keep this.” She touched his chest, indicating the white linen shirt he wore beneath his mariner’s cape.

“This shirt?”

“Yes.”

Ashe let go of her and began to remove his cape. “Of course. It’s yours.”

“No, wait,” Rhapsody said, laughing. “I don’t need it now. I’m not cold, but you will be if you take it off. I just want to keep it when you leave to morrow, if that would be all right.” She took his hand and led him down the gazebo steps, back into the house.

Ashe put his arm around her as they walked. “One of the many benefits of being your lover—your betrothed—is that I am never cold,” he said, smiling down at her. “You take very good care of that, Firelady.”

“Well, that wouldn’t be true if you didn’t have other shirts,” Rhapsody replied. “But as I have made a few new ones for you myself to take with you, I think you will be well covered.”

Ashe opened the front door for her, and watched as the coals on the hearth leapt to life in greeting as she entered. He followed her into the parlor.

“So why, if you are making me new ones, do you want this old thing? It’s really quite ratty at the cuffs—I hid them under the jacket.”

Rhapsody smiled at him. “It has your scent. I wanted it to wear when I’m alone, to remind me of you. I was going to ask you for it, even when I thought you were off to propose to someone else. Isn’t that wicked?” Tears of embarrassment glinted in her eyes.

Ashe laughed. “Oh, just awful.” He shook his head, amazed at how she constantly surprised him.

“It’s a selfish request, I know.”

Ashe stroked her hair, smiling. “Have you ever done anything selfish in your life, Rhapsody?”

“Of course; all the time. You know that.”

“Nothing specific leaps to mind,” Ashe said. “Can you perhaps name an example for me?”

Her face grew solemn. “Don’t joke about this, Ashe, please.”

Ashe took her hands. “I’m not; gods, I’m really not, Rhapsody. I really do doubt that you could name anything.”

Rhapsody looked into the fire and the tears that had been brimming in her eyes overflowed. When she turned to face him again her eyes were filled with a sorrow he hadn’t seen for a long time.

“I ran away from home,” she said softly, crossing her arms in front of her waist and holding her stomach as she did when she felt sick. “I turned my back on the people who loved me to follow a boy who didn’t. I never saw any of them again. I am alive today because of that selfish act, Ashe; alive, having left them to mourn me until the end of their days. I traded my life with my family for one night of meaningless sex in a pasture and a worthless copper coin.” She stopped when she saw his face go blank, and then turn white. “What’s the matter?”

“What was his name?” he asked, looking as if the world was about to come to its end.

“Who?”

“This boy,” he said, and he voice grew stronger, and more urgent. “What was his name?”

She looked ashamed. “I don’t even know. He lied.”

“What did you call him, then? Tell me, Aria.”

Rhapsody was beginning to panic; the look on his face was turning into something frightening, and she could feel the bristling electricity signaling the return of the dragon. The air in the grotto had grown unsettlingly still, like the calm before a gathering storm, or the extreme low tide before a tidal wave.

“Tell me,” he commanded in a voice she had never heard. It was anguished and deep, and filled with alien power. She started to back away, but he seized her shoulders in a grasp that hurt. “Tell me!”

“Sam,” she whispered, not understanding. “I called him Sam.”

His fingers dug into her arms and a roar that shook the house issued forth, full of fury. His face went red and she watched in horror as he seemed to increase in size, muscles uncoiling in rage.

“Unholy BITCH!” he screamed, as loose items in the room began to fall and tables shook. The cords in his neck stood out as his anger increased, and the air charged with power as seething fury took hold of him. The pupils in his eyes narrowed to almost nothing. “Whore! Rutting, miserable WHORE!”

His hands went to his head, and he began to clutch at his hair, digging his fingers into his scalp. As he released her Rhapsody backed slowly away from him, a look of heartbreak and fear written on her face. It has finally come, she thought ruefully. I was wrong. He is the F’dor, and he’s going to kill me now. She thought about running, but decided against it. She either had to stand and fight, or give in and let it end now. Either way, she wouldn’t run. It would be no use to do so anyway.

Ashe continued to roil in unbridled rage, swearing a stream of obscenity the likes of which Rhapsody had never heard. “She knew,” he snarled, lashing out at the air as thunder rolled across the firmament that held the dome of Elysian in place. “She knew, and she lied to me.”

“Knew what? What did I know?” Rhapsody gasped, struggling to maintain her balance as the earth began to tremble beneath her. “I’m sorry—I don’t know what I’ve done.”

His eyes narrowed to slits, blue as hottest part of a flame. “ ‘She did not land, she did not come’ she said,” he ranted, his voice dropping to a murderous whisper. “But she knew. She knew you had left, you just hadn’t arrived yet. But she knew you were coming. And she didn’t tell me.”

“She? Who? Who knew?”

“ANWYN!” the dragon shrieked. Its multitoned voice rattled the walls.

Rhapsody cast a glance at the door. Achmed. She needed to get to the gazebo and call for Achmed. Killing Ashe without the Thrall ritual would be pointless.

The instruments within the cherry cabinet raided as tremors rumbled through the cottage. Ashe lashed out in a convulsive sweep of his arms; books leapt from the shelves and tumbled to the floor.

Rhapsody began to back up farther toward the front door. Tears were falling freely, and she glanced regretfully around, knowing that she could never reach

Daystar Clarion in time. She wished for death, hoping that whatever manifestation of evil he really was would not be able to bind her soul as he snuffed out her life. The calm that normally descended when she faced danger was nowhere to be felt.

Then, as though hit by falling ice, Ashe stopped his tirade and looked across the room at her. His face crumbled as he saw her, terror in her eyes, the acceptance of death in her countenance, and the manifestations of the dragon disappeared instantly as a look of horror crossed his face. He struggled to speak, and when he did his voice was gentle, but still trembling.

“Rhapsody.” It was the only word he could form for a moment. “Rhapsody, I’m sorry—please—forgive me, I—” He reached out his hands to her, and took a step toward her.

Her own hands lashed out in front of her, holding him at bay. “No, stay there,” she said, taking a concurrent step backward. “Just stay there.”

Ashe stopped, and unspeakable pain filled his expression. He reached inside his shirt, and pulled out a tiny velvet pouch and tossed it onto the floor in front of her. “Aria, open it, please.”

“No; don’t move,” she said, taking another step away from him. She glanced around her again, and moved slowly toward the sword rack.

“Please, Rhapsody, for gods’ sake, please, open it,” he begged, his face growing pale as the blood from his tantrum began to abate.

“No,” she repeated, more forcefully this time. “Stay away from me. If you move, I’ll kill you. You know I never lie. So help me, Ashe, don’t test my resolve. Don’t move.”

Tears began to fall from the crystalline eyes. “Rhapsody, if you ever loved me, please—”

“Don’t,” she said, her voice dissolving to a nasty whisper. “Don’t you dare throw that word at me. I don’t know who you are. I don’t know what you are.”

“Open the pouch. You’ll know.”

Rhapsody straightened her shoulders and looked him in the eyes. The words that formed on her lips were the same as on the day they crossed the Tar’afel River.

“My refusal wasn’t clear to you?” She had made it, inching slowly, to within reach of the sword rack. She reached for Daystar Clarion.

Ashe did not move, but he spoke once more, his voice calmer. “Emily, please. Look in the pouch.”

Rhapsody froze. She turned back to him slowly. “What did you call me?” she asked, choking.

“Please, Emily. You’ll understand if you look in the pouch.” He took a step back, attempting to keep her fright at bay.

Rhapsody stared at him, shock on her face. After a moment, as if commanded, she went slowly to the small bag lying in the center of the living-room floor and bent to retrieve it. With hands that trembled she pulled the tiny drawstring open and shook its contents into her palm. It was a small silver button, heart-shaped, with the figure of a rose engraved on it; the song that surrounded it was of a land long gone but that lived in her blood. Her eyes returned to his face, which was beginning to relax into a look that she had never seen before.

“This is my button,” she whispered. “Where did you get it?”

He smiled at her gently, so as not to frighten her with the joy that was beginning to creep over him. “You gave it to me,” he said.

She did not take her eyes off him as her hand moved slowly to her throat. She drew forth the golden locket and opened it without looking at it. As the clasp opened a tiny copper coin fell out, thirteen-sided, oddly shaped and polished from years of loving caresses.

Ashe’s eyes filled with tears again. “Emily,” he said softly, and held out his hands to her once more.

The world before her eyes spun in a rapid swirl of colors and textures as Rhapsody fell to the ground in a dead faint.