The Assassin King

9

Anborn could feel war coming on, but that was not unusual. Anyone who had attended the meeting in the tiny room behind the tapestry could feel the same thing; in fact, not to be able to do so denoted a thickness of skull that would be embarrassing. What Anborn was feeling was not as much the advent of war, but gut sensation of his role in it, or at least what he suspected his role was to be. And, for the first time in many centuries, he was secretly looking forward to it. He sat back as far as he could, taking his useless legs and extending them by hand as Gerald Owen and Melisande Navarne made their way into the hidden room with trays of food for those remaining within. His eyes narrowed as they sighted on the young girl with golden ringlets who was placing a tray down on the table in front of him. “Who is this?” he demanded gruffly. “I thought this meeting was to be held in secret, and yet here you have brought in an unknown serving wench, quite probably a spy.” The girl’s black eyes rolled in fond annoyance. “You are in severe need of a new joke, Lord Marshal,” she said, lifting the lid of the tray and handing him a linen napkin. “You know very well that I am Melisande Navarne, seeing as you are my godfather, and have been tossing me around like a ball since I was a baby.”

“Ah, and that is why I know you to be an imposter,” Anborn said smugly as he laid the napkin across his useless legs. “Melisande Navarne is still a baby; she fits in the length of my forearm between my wrist and elbow.” He clapped his hand against his arm for emphasis. “You, however, are a big impudent lummox, and could not possibly be that sweet, tiny little girl.” Melisande assumed the position of a servant, her arms behind her back. “Much as it pains me to remind you that you are aging, Lord Marshal—”

“Ow,” Granthor muttered as Rial and Achmed lowered their heads, smiling. “—I am in fact your goddaughter and the Lady Navarne, second in line to this duchy, I might add. I am nine years old, soon to be ten on the first day of spring, and am more than four times the length of your forearm. Additionally, I can run, ride, shoot an arrow, and wield a dagger; I am expert in horsemanship and routinely curry and tack the entire livery. I get far better reports from the tutors than my brother ever did, and am very tired of being left in the nursery when important matters are being discussed. I could be quite valuable to the council, certainly at least as a messenger or maybe a spy.” The girl’s dark eyes sparkled with a mix of excitement and resentment. “I would like to register my displeasure at being left out of everything, plainly but politely, and say that if Rhapsody had had so stifled an upbringing she would never have grown into the lady, queen, and warrior that she is. I consider this a terrible waste of valuable Cymrian assets.”

“I’ll waste your valuable Cymrian asset, young lady,” the Lord Marshal shouted, swinging playfully at her hindquarters. Melisande dodged, as she always did at this point in the game, then hurriedly followed Gerald Owen out of the hidden room. “Well, that one ’as a mouth on her,” said Granthor approvingly. “If you can’t find somethin’ for ’er ta do, give ’er ta me—Oi’ll make right fine use of ’er.”

“Don’t tempt me,” muttered Gwydion Navarne. “I can have all her possessions packed and on the keep steps in less than fifteen minutes.”

“Spoken more like a frustrated older brother than an invested duke,” said Anborn curtly. “Mark my words, young Navarne—that girl will make you proud that you are related to her one day.”

“Probably,” said Gwydion Navarne ruefully. “And it’s more likely to take fifteen days to get her packed.” I confess, Rhapsody, it is very disturbing to discover that you are keeping a secret from me with Achmed,” Ashe said as they came from behind the tapestry into the Great Hall. “I thought there was nothing that we kept one from another. I have certainly trusted you with all of my secrets, hideous as many of them have been.” Rhapsody squeezed his hand. “I would have told you all that I know about this, Sam, but it is not my secret to tell. Some time back, when you and I were both in the desert of Yarim, when the Bolg were tunneling for water below the fountain of Entudenin, Achmed showed me a thin parchment document from the oldest of times, long before the Cymrian era, perhaps even from the Lost Island itself. It was a schematic of a machine the likes of which I had never seen before that employs the rainbow spectrum of light together with the sound spectrum of the musical scale to generate different sorts of powers—the power of healing, the power of scrying and hiding, and many others I have not yet figured out. He did not leave this information with me, even though I recognized it as being some of the most elemental and basic lore of the world, ancient in its origin, and I warned him to be careful with it, that even the master Namers are only privy to some of that lore. “When he came to Gwydion’s investiture, he brought the document with him yet again. He asked me to translate it, and I took it with me when you brought me to Elynsynos’s Lair to visit with her. In that time, I came to understand what it meant, what the lore was, and what the risks of using it were. It almost ended our friendship, as a matter of fact. After Meridion’s birth, I told Achmed I never wished to see him again, because he was so insistent on having the translation in spite of my warnings. But upon reflection, and after we had a heart-to-heart talk when we were trapped within the protection of Llauron’s body, I came to understand what it is that he really wishes to do. He has had some experience with this instrumentality before, in the old land, and he feels that if we are in fact going to be battling forces that precede history, we must have weapons whose origin and power preceded it as well.”

“There is wisdom in that,” Ashe acknowledged. “In addition, while the instrumentality as Gwylliam and Anwyn utilized it threatened to wake the Sleeping Child, the wyrm that sleeps at the center of the earth, Achmed seems to have discovered a way to power it, not from fire or from the Earth’s lore, as they did, but rather to utilize the light of the sun and the stars to do so, which should make it much safer to use, even though it still must be done judiciously. It should also be more powerful—each of the elements has greater power in the order it was created, so ether supersedes all, followed by fire, water, wind, and earth sequentially. Using ether to power our Lightcatcher should make it both immense in its effect and as safe as it can possibly be as well. If we can use it to guard the Earthchild and secure the mountains, scry to find the enemy and defeat them, it will have been worth the risk and the damage our friendship has sustained because of it.”

“I do not doubt your wisdom, Aria,” Ashe said, taking her hand in both of his. “It is perhaps petty, especially given all that we are to each other, but there is something that galls me about Achmed requiring secrecy of you that keeps us apart, even the smallest of ways. I guess it’s an immature resentment; chalk it up to the possessiveness of dragon blood.” Rhapsody kissed his hand. “There are no more secrets between us,” she said, “though there are some that only we know. There is a secret that you and I keep, alone, one to the other, and always have.” Ashe smiled ruefully. “Really?” he asked. “It seems to me that there are none between you and both of the Firbolg. You’ve known them far longer and in far different circumstances than we have known each other, even if we did meet first in time.”

“Yes, but only you know that, and only you know my real name,” she said. “I have only spoken it once in this world, and it was in the wedding ceremony we held in secret. Only in the grotto of Elysian can the reverberations of that name be found, and even the greatest of Namers would have trouble doing so. And they still do not know that we met first on the other side of Time; only we share the memory of that sweet night, something that has comforted me, and no doubt you, often over the intervening time. So, you are in fact the guardian of my lost lore, and of my heart. You are my past, and my future. And that will ever be.” Ashe sighed. “If only I could be your Present,” he said. The baby in his arms let out a squeal of hunger, and they both laughed. “I think someone is in line ahead of you,”

Rhapsody said. “And while you can roar with the best of your kind, he still wins for sheer volume and pitch.” She put the fussing baby to the breast, gently caressing bis golden curls. Ashe exhaled solemnly. “Aria, I am going to ask you to do something that I would rather die than see you do.” Rhapsody looked up in surprise. “Then don’t,” she said simply. “If you feel that way about it—”

“We have no choice,” Ashe interrupted. “You must leave here, with Meridion, tonight. If we hadn’t accepted the mantle of leadership, it would be one thing; I could spirit you and the baby away, take you across the sea or hide you in the holy forest of Gwynwood near the Great White Tree, and you would both be as safe as it would be possible for me to make you. But we have committed our trust and our fealty to a nation, to an Alliance, and now that war is looming, we cannot go back on our vows, even for the purpose of remaining together. At the same time, the rest of the world can be damned if it means that either you or our son is in danger; that is the one thing I cannot bear. I will not be able to remain sane should anything happen to either of you. The Rampage of the Wyrm may have been a fictitious manuscript according to Elynsynos, but I feel deep within me an undeniable belief that it would come to pass should I lose you. I have already set the forest alight more than once when I believed you were lost to me. Just the knowledge that there are entities out there, scrying for Meridion, makes the wyrm within my blood ascendant, longing for vengeance and destruction. “While I believe that Highmeadow has the strongest of fortifications possible, to keep you here when there are eyes watching, looking for our son, would be folly and selfish, not to mention unwise. There really is only one place that both of you will be safe as the world begins to cave in.”

“What are you saying, Sam?” Rhapsody asked, her voice shaking. Ashe lowered his head. “With your permission, I want to petition Achmed to take you into his care. You and the baby should leave with him and Grunthor tonight, before the light breaks, and travel off the road, probably through Canderre and Yarim rather than Bethany, and possibly through the northeastern corner of Bethe Corbair, where there is nothing but desert, no landmarks or fortifications where you could be found by one who has the power to scry from a distance.” He exhaled deeply. “I cannot tell you how much I wish to vomit at this very moment. Nonetheless, I believe we need to move in all due haste. If the Bolg can agree, and I have no reason to believe that they will not, and if you are willing, and feel that you are able to make the journey, as soon as this council ends I will set about making provisions so that you can leave before First-light.” Rhapsody leaned back against the wall as the child nursed. “What a beautiful love song,” she mused. “Pardon?”

“What you just said to me were perhaps the most beautiful words of love I have ever heard,” she said, smiling sadly. “I well know how much you hate this idea, how much it galls you to the very soul, how difficult it was for you to propose it. It will be similarly difficult for me to grant your request. But, as I don’t have a better idea, I fear you are right, and to do anything else were to insufficiently safeguard our greatest treasure.” She looked down at the baby, now drowsing at the breast. “You will do it then?” Ashe asked, his expression a mixture of relief and dread. Rhapsody closed her blouse and swaddled the child again. “I will, for him,” she said. “I will go to Ylorc and help Achmed with his infernal Lightcatcher, in the hope that it may both protect the mountains and help turn the tide to end the war more quickly. But I tell you this, Sam: when Meridion is weaned, and safe, I will return to the front. I am the Iliachenva’ar; I have no business bearing a sword of elemental fire in hiding. It would be an insult to Oelendra and the training she gave me to stand by for the sake of my own safety when others are dying.”

“I would expect nothing less,” Ashe said. Rhapsody smiled at him. “And should you receive word that something has befallen me, let Anborn prosecute the war until you are ready to assume command.” Rhapsody’s smile faded. “Come; we should be returning,” she said. She rose and gave Ashe her hand again, and together they headed back to the small, dark room beyond a hidden door. He stopped one last time at the window just before the tapestry, in a pool of light from the nearby windows, and sat down on a bench beneath it. Rhapsody sat down slowly as well. “You have not told me of Llauron’s death,” he said quietly. “Did my father suffer in the end? I know you will tell me the truth, sworn to it as you are, being a Namer, but do not spare me the blow of the words as my wife. Just tell me.”

“He did not, in my estimation,” Rhapsody said gently. “He stepped between Anwyn and me, with Meridion in my arms, and surrounded us with his ethereal essence—and then he was gone, his body a shell of elemental earth, a mist lingering within it. There was no pain, no hurt your grandmother could have inflicted on him, though I suppose there was regret in the last knowledge of her being willing to take his life, after all he I had done and sacrificed for her throughout history. You saw the expression in his eyes, Sam; it was peace, and resignation—he knew he had saved his grandchild from certain death. I think, if nothing else, that will bring him to the door of the Lord and Lady Rowan, and to life everlasting.”

Rhapsody watched for the hint of water in his cerulean blue eyes, eyes scored strangely and beautifully by draconic vertical pupils, but there was no such sign, an absence that betrayed an even deeper sorrow, one beyond tears. “I don’t know what possessed me to be so cruel to him the last time we saw each other,” Ashe said. “He was so excited about Meridion, so desirous to make amends so that he might be part of his grandchild’s life. And I spurned him, turned him away, told him he would never gain what he wanted. I don’t know what possessed me.” She took his hand. “The same thing that possesses me to leave all that I know, all that I love,” she said simply, without sentiment. “The duty—and the desire—to keep our son safe at any price.” Her small calloused fingertip caressed his palm. “Llauron understood that as well, more titan anyone I have ever known. He Ended, protecting his grandchild. Only once more in all of history has such a sacrifice been made. When he is older, Meridion will know how much Llauron must have loved him to make it. And, though I can’t be certain, it seems as if he may have passed some of his lore along to Meridion—I thought I beheld a mist hovering in the prison of Llauron’s body that the baby breathed in.”

Ashe continued to stare out the window of the keep at the silver trees glistening black with the onset of Second Thaw. “It’s nice to think so, anyway,” he said at last, rising from the bench and pulling her up with him. “Come, let us go back and finalize what we have decided. Then we can have Meridion’s Naming ceremony before you leave. At least one happy memory should come from this day.” He pulled aside the tapestry and led her carefully down the stairs to the secret entrance, then opened the door to the hidden room, where the rest of the group meeting in secret was finishing their repast. They returned to their places at the table. Ashe placed the sleeping baby back in Rhapsody’s arms. “Thank you for your patience,” Ashe said. “The decisions we have come to are dire ones, and will be difficult on each of us to enact. Each requires sacrifice that in many cases is almost too great to be borne—but that is the way of leadership.”

“Alas,” said Anborn. “First, I wish to officially ask the Firbolg king a boon.” Ashe looked at Achmed. “You’re asking me for a favor?” Achmed said incredulously. “If it is the commitment of troops, the answer is no. The Firbolg army has already come to the aid of Roland once, at the Great Moot. Under the circumstances, I’m going to need every soldier I have.”

“I couldn’t agree more,” said Ashe archly. “My request is this: take my wife and son tonight, under cover of darkness, and travel off the road, over the desert to Ylorc, where I ask you to keep them hidden and safe within the Teeth. Something hunts our son; knowing this, I cannot rest, nor can I prosecute this war correctly until I am certain that he is as safe as it is possible to make him, as well as his mother. Since Rhapsody has agreed to assist you with the building and development of your Lightcatcher, she may as well have the protection of the mountains to hide her and the baby. Do you agree?”

Achmed and Grunthor exchanged a glance. Then the Bolg king’s mismatched eyes returned to Ashe. “Ylorc was Rhapsody’s first home on the continent,” he said. “She has title to a small duchy there. She’s always welcome in the Teeth.”

“Yeah, and the Bolg will be glad ta see the baby, too,” Grunthor said, chuckling. “First recipe I see with his name on it, I will light a whole tribe of them on fire,” Rhapsody said. “I now ask the Lady Cymrian to assess what she has heard from each of us, and tell us what she thinks,” said Ashe. The Lady Cymrian exhaled. “It sounds to me like the war that is coming is more a war arising from men’s greed than from the demonic desire for destruction,” she said. “But that matters little. Chaos and anarchy are magnets for the F’dor; sooner or later there will be a power beyond these days, from the old times, that we will be facing. For that reason, the Lightcatcher is a wise investment “I would also guess from what I have heard that there are more allies involved on Talquist’s side than we know about. For all that Sorbold was a more or less solitary nation under Leitha, the Emperor Presumptive is a former merchant. He no doubt has friends and trading partners all around the world. We must discover quickly which ones beyond our borders he has recruited to aid him in his attempt at conquest of the Middle Continent.”

“I would guess the Hintervold,” Anborn said. “Perhaps, though the Hintervold is dependent on Roland for foodstuffs, and Sorbold cannot easily provide that,” Rhapsody said. “It will be interesting to rum over as many rocks as possible and discover what crawls out.” She turned to Rial, her loyal viceroy. “This is my final command to you, my friend: go back to Tyrian and serve, as you did before my crowning, as her Lord Protector. Safeguard the forest for now; we do not need to involve the Lirin at this point, though you must instruct the woods guards and the Lirin border guards to prevent any troops that would pass from Sorbold to Roland from doing so, even at the cost of a martial challenge. And Rial—go to the palace at Tomingorllo, where the diadem rests in its case. Make the attempt to pick it up, as I once did. Perhaps it is time for me crown of stars to change heads; I will be too far away to act as titular queen for a long while. The Lirin deserve better.”

“The crown, and the Lirin, have already made their choices, m’lady,” Rial said. “Even a diadem of ethereal diamonds has the right to revisit a decision every now and them,” Rhapsody said, smiling at her confidant. “We must be ready for what is to come; while this may be only an upworld war to begin with, I suspect it will not remain such.”

“Rhapsody is correct,” Ashe went on. “While the footprints of those that once dwelt within the Vault of the Underworld are not discernible here, the bloodshed and violence that is to come is a bait for the demonic, a temptation that may draw them in. So we must be prepared to repel not only the forces driven by greed and the desire for conquest, but be ready to grapple with darker forces, evil from the First Age that can only be destroyed by lore from the same time. For this reason, I wish to pronounce the decisions of this makeshift council, comprised of members of different factions of the Alliance and the church, in the presence of a Lirin Namer, that history will record our actions as defensive, and undertaken for the sake of safeguarding the Middle Continent, and its people, against the threat of invasion by those who would conquer the earth, and those that dwell beneath it.”

“Do so, then, nephew,” said Anborn. “I am happy not to be in your place this day; you will not know how painful this moment really is until years from now, when the pages of history are written about it. Believe me when I tell you this.” The Lord Cymrian’s voice was steady, kingly. “Very well— this is my decision, made in concert and with consent of all present, pending their assent,” he said. “Anborn has always been best in the command of men. If you will agree, Uncle, to take up the mantle you cast aside centuries ago, and again serve as Lord Marshal to the forces of the Alliance, it would put the best leader in the field. You also have personal friendships among some of our more tentative allies—the Nain, the Icemen of the Hintervold, the Blesser of the Nonaligned States—all of these at one time or another were brothers-inarms of yours. Though there is no need to drag any of those allies into this war if they are not needed, it would be good to know that we can count on their loyalty if they are—loyalty either to the Alliance or its military commander.”

“As you wish, nephew,” Anborn said. His voice was quiet and circumspect, with none of the condescending tone in which he generally spoke, especially about things martial. “It therefore falls to me to hold the land itself,” Ashe went on. “The draconic part will guard the Tree and serve to sustain the shield of the world. That which is man, the Lord Cymrian, must fight to protect the people who dwell upon that land. In the name of Llauron, my father, and that of Elynsynos, my great-grandmother, I will do both. I will call the Council of Dukes at once, and take over command of all of the provincial armies, putting them under Anborn’s direct command.”

“Tristan Steward will not like that,” Gwydion Navarne said. “I believe he has expected to be given that post as Lord Regent.”

“He will think otherwise when he sees the scope and scale of what we are up against,” said Ashe. “But we do not have time to wait for the gathering of the provincial forces, if what you suspect is coming is nigh, Your Grace. Anborn should accompany you back to Sepulvarta immediately, taking with you all of the forces you can muster from the outposts and garrisons in southeastern Navarne and southern Bethany. I will draft up articles of command that will give you authority to conscript any military forces you can reach; there should be almost ten thousand along that route, give or take however many are in the process of guarding mail caravans.” The Patriarch nodded. “That seems wise. I would hope that you would not leave Roland vulnerable to aid Sepulvarta; that would be a fool’s errand.”

“Indeed,” said Ashe. “Anborn, will ten thousand be sufficient for your rescue of the holy city?”

“More than enough to break a siege, if one has begun,” said Anborn. “But I have to tell you, Nephew, that I suspect they will not be of the caliber needed to do so. I have been warning you for three years, since you took on this bloody lordship, that war was coming, and that preparations needed to be made.”

“And I heeded you,” Ashe said patiently. “You may be pleasantly surprised, Uncle.”

“I am never pleasantly surprised,” the Lord Marshal muttered. “The very concept of surprise is an innately unpleasant one.”

“I will conduct the strategic aspects of the war—the defense of the Middle Continent and the rest of the Alliance— from the fortress at Highmeadow. I will send ships immediately to our allies in Manosse and Gaematria across the Wide Central Sea, to alert them to what is happening and request their aid; Talquist has the naval advantage, but with their assistance, we can even the field. “I will also heed the wisdom of my wife, much as I fear my own repercussions of our decision,” Ashe went on. “I will entrust her, and our son, to Achmed, king of the Firbolg, who is not only our ally but her dear friend, for the purpose of safeguarding her and Meridion from whatever evil seeks him. Rhapsody has agreed to go to Ylorc with Achmed, and to aid him in the development and utilization of the instrumentality he calls the Lightcatcher, a remaking of Gwylliam’s Light-forge designed and built by the Nain before the Cymrian War, for the purpose of protecting the lore it uses. The Bolg king reaffirms his commitment to the Alliance, though makes no promises of troop involvement, and asserts that the use of the instramentality will be for the defense of the said Alliance, if and when possible. Have I characterized your position correctly, Achmed?” The Bolg king snorted. “For the purposes of history, certainly. History means nothing to me; I have yet to see an example of it that I have believed.”

“Perhaps this will be the first, then,” Ashe said mildly. “Rhapsody, Lirin queen and Lady Cymrian, has asked Rial, Viceroy of Tyrian, to expand his role to Lord Protector and to see if the diadem in Tomingorllo assesses him to be worthy of the kingship in her stead. She reiterates her primary fealty to Tyrian, second only to that of the Alliance as a whole.” The Lady Cymrian exhaled and nodded her agreement. “I cannot tell you how sad this makes me, m’lady,” Rial said. “I remember fondly the day you picked up that diadem, made from the shattered pieces of the Purity Diamond, destroyed by Anwyn in a pact with the demon against her husband. It came to life in your hands, a symbol of the unity you would bring to the Lirin kingdoms—and the Cymrian Alliance. To think that you may have to give it up to protect both of those entities now is tragic.”

Rhapsody shook her head. “I’m giving up nothing, Rial. In my heart I will always be a daughter of Tyrian, whether I wear the diadem or a kerchief on my head. I only wish I could have brought about an era of peace to that united kingdom, rather than having to take up arms to defend it once again. At least this time the Lirin have Anborn fighting on their side, and not against them. That alone is worm the loss of the crown.”

“What is to come will change us all in ways we cannot even contemplate now,” said Ashe. “But know this—it will surely come to pass. We cannot avoid it, but at least we are united in our determination to stand together against it. In this way, the second Cymrian era could not be more different from the first.” Anborn nodded. “And we will prevail. In this way, it could not be more different, either.”

“Glad as I am to have you with us, Lord Marshal, even you cannot hold back the raging ocean; its will cannot be stopped,” Rial said somberly. “The best you can do is build a seawall and keep patching it. With any luck the storm will pass before it gives way.”

“I’d rather think of a way to drain the sea,” Anborn muttered. “But, as I can’t, sandbag duty it is.”

“Yes,” said the Patriarch, rising with the others as the council meeting came to an end. “But on that day when you discover such a way to drain the sea, I am with you, bucket in hand.” As he ambulated noisily down the corridor leading away from the Great Hall, with its many porticos and side hallways, Anborn reached effortlessly behind the drape of an alcove where a small stone statue of Merithyn the Explorer was displayed and grasped a handful of gold ringlets, dragging then-owner’s head out from behind the heavy velvet swath. A high- pitched gasp echoed up the Grand Staircase to the floors above. “Ah, yes, you do make a fine little spy, don’t you now, m’lady?” he said with exaggerated courtesy, smiling at the shock in the glittering black eyes. “But apparently your assets are not as valuable as you thought. Keep working at it, though.” He released her curls and patted her head affectionately, then made his way down the rest of the hallway, the clunking metallic sound of his walking machine reverberating through the whole of the quiet keep. The girl remained in shock, still watching him, until the echoes faded into silence again. Then she hurried back to the buttery in the dimness of night, the light from the great lamps seeming to cause her shadow to lengthen, her hair to darken and fade into the gloom.