Duty (Book 2) (40 page)

“Gen, you must go!” the Chalaine begged. “He will take everything from you and kill you! Please, run. Stay alive. For me if for no one else!”

“What has he done to Fenna?” Gen asked. “What has he done?!”

“She is in no danger, Gen,” Mirelle assured him. “But you are! You have an important work to do still! Do not throw it away for some useless show of pride and bravado!”

“It is not pride. It is not bravado!” Gen argued forcefully. “It is honor! It is duty! You say Chertanne has taken everything, and if I run away then he will have taken those, too. If I die, I die. ‘Were there not a hundred for fodder before, and will there not be a thousand after?’” The Chalaine bowed her head at these familiar words. Gen regarded them all, eyes challenging. “I am going to the Hall of Three Moons to hear what Chertanne has to say. Come with me if you will.”

Gen turned and strode away, aware of the sounds of Maewen unlimbering her bow. He turned in time to see her loose an arrow aimed for his legs, and he dodged it with effort.

“Have you gone mad?” he yelled at her in Elvish. “You know this bitter fruit comes from the tree I planted. It is mine to eat. That is what Samian told you once. He would understand what I have to do now. He would have done the same thing.”

Maewen’s face registered shock, and she lowered her bow. Nothing Mirelle could say could induce her to take it up again.

By the time he reached the Hall of Three Moons, Gen glanced back to see the Chalaine leading a dispirited retinue behind her. While touched by their concern for him, he could not bend to their wishes and let Chertanne have the satisfaction of scaring him off. Gen stopped to allow the Chalaine inside first, the rest following behind. Both Mirelle and Maewen were grim and pale. Mirelle regarded him sadly, touching his shoulder as she passed.

“Who are you?” Maewen asked, stopping next to him.

“There is a lot to tell, and I may not be granted enough breath to tell it.”

“But how could you have known my father?”

“Is that Gen, my Queen?” Chertanne boomed, halting Maewen’s inquiry. “Let him approach.”

Gen turned to where Chertanne stood in front of the thrones, hands on hips and bulbous lips turned up in a confident sneer. The Pontiff reclined on a litter nearby, Athan still attending him.

All eyes fixed on Gen as the crowd of soldiers split for the Chalaine, who crossed the distance to stand by her husband. She said something to him, but he ignored it. Dason, who moved to stand behind the Chalaine with Jaron, was visibly disturbed. Fenna he could find nowhere. Gen walked forward casually, Chertanne ordering him to stop halfway.

“That is close enough, Gen. Hear what I have to say. As you have shown quite consistently, you have no fear or respect for my person, my wishes, or my commands. You have crossed me so many times in the last year that I cannot with a view toward my own safety and the benefit of this world let you continue on as you are. Your actions are against faith and against the code of law that outlines obedience to one’s superiors.

“But I will not trifle with you. I have earlier stripped you of the rank most undeservedly given you by the former First Mother of Rhugoth. You are again the commoner you were, where you should have stayed. Having recently been appointed the Pontiff of the Church, it is also in my power to excommunicate you from the Church and seal damnation on you, which I also did previously.

Gen reeled. Chertanne named Pontiff? Had Beliarmus been coerced or had old age finally stripped him of reason?

“Now, Gen,” Chertanne continued, “you are sentenced to death for your crimes. I cannot have you dogging my every step while I try to unite the world and lead them to battle. I think you can understand this. But to show you I am not a vengeful man, I want you to know that I have cared for those you love best. I will return Dason to his post as Lady Khairn’s Protector in your absence, a man whom the Chalaine prefers for his refinements. Jaron will remain in her service for the time being. Mirelle will replace Fenna as Lady Khairn’s handmaiden. I know Mirelle likes me not, but it is always good to have your enemies nearby. Let’s see, have I forgotten anyone?

“Oh, yes! Miss Fairedale. You will be gratified to know that I have seen to her care as well. I know you intended to wed her, but your station and impending execution will intrude upon those plans. I know she was fond of Geoff, so as my first act as Pontiff and High King, I wed them! By my order, they are now, no doubt, enjoying the same bliss as I did this evening, though I believe I had the sweeter portion.”

Gen felt sickness compound upon sickness, his stomach a stone. His anger and shame cut through his pain, clearing a fogged mind. He knew what he had to do. He had to trust the prophecy, had to trust that the Child was indeed conceived under the light of Trys by the one intended for that purpose. But he would not tolerate Chertanne any longer. He had already hurt everyone Gen loved, and would hurt countless others if permitted to live.

“And now to the matter of your death,” Chertanne continued.

“Yes, Chertanne?” Gen started walking forward slowly. “Who, here, do you think can kill me?”

Captain Drockley and Chertanne’s six remaining personal guards eyed Gen warily, drawing swords and fanning out before their King, Captain Drockley in the lead. Gen considered killing the Blessed One with a simple spell, but he thought better of it, fearing exhaustion and exposure. A quick flick of the blade would do just as well.

“No, no, no!” Chertanne laughed whimsically as Gen advanced. “Let him approach! I expected this.” Gen drew his sword and continued forward as Chertanne’s guard parted.

“Behold the power of the Ha’Ulrich!” Chertanne yelled, and with a great display he stretched forth his hands. “We shall turn him to wood to match his personality.”

As he crossed the intervening distance, Gen felt the transmuting power wash over him as Chertanne’s eyes narrowed and teeth gritted in concentration. The protection Gen had cast upon himself was more than equal to the challenge. Chertanne’s face drained of blood and he concentrated again, closing his eyes and breathing heavily. Gen sensed Chertanne frantically trying to break down the transmuting ward, but the attempt was feeble, even pathetically so.

“Someone has protected him!” Chertanne shrieked, spent, sweating, and scared. “Kill him, kill him!”

Gen started into a dead run toward Chertanne as the Ha’Ulrich’s guard formed a protective wall in front of him. Blade whistling, Gen didn’t even slow as he cut through the center of the defense easily, sending Captain Drockley and one of his soldiers to their doom. Chertanne turned to run as Gen closed upon him, unheeding of the Ha’Ulrich’s whining entreaties for him to spare his life. Gen was resolved. Chertanne tripped and fell before the thrones, bringing up his hand to fend off the blow. Gen raised his sword to strike.

An enormous thunderclap split the air and Gen felt something slam into his side, picking him up and throwing him halfway across the enormous room. He hit the stones hard and skidded through the blossoms on the floor until the short wall beneath the raised seating stopped his slide. Scraped and bruised, Gen tried to lift himself, but some unseen power pinned him down. Although his vision swam, he could see the former Pontiff struggling from his litter with the help of Athan.

“Kill him now!” Chertanne bellowed. “He is defenseless.” Gen blinked his eyes to clear his vision. Chertanne’s four remaining guards jogged toward him. Gen fought desperately to move but could not. Focusing on his executioners, he prepared a spell, but as he watched, an arrow caught the lead soldier in the throat, killing him instantly. Maewen knocked her bow again as she ran to Gen’s side, and the advance stopped. The remaining soldiers turned to King Khairn, who had soiled his pants but regained his feet by the thrones.

“Call them back, Chertanne!” Maewen shouted. “I can kill them all before they get within ten paces of me.”

“I command you to stand down, Maewen!” Chertanne ordered. “He is sentenced to die according to the laws of my people.”

“I am not yours to command, leader of men. I am Maewen the half-elf, who, by wish of father and mother, was bound to the will and way of the elves. I give Gen asylum under the name of Tumerath Se’Reinan, leader of my tribe since before the Shattering. He will only be delivered from asylum by Tumerath’s will, for which I act in proxy. Tell your men to stand down or you will find yourself walking home with only angry Rhugothians for company, if they’ll have you.”

For the first time, Gen thought he saw an expression on Chertanne’s face that indicated he understood that he had gravely miscalculated a situation.

“Guards, return to me.” Chertanne’s manner and expression turned from argumentative to ingratiating. “Will you guide us, Maewen, to return me home? If you love any of these people, you must help us, for none knows the way.”

“Help them, Maewen,” Gen pleaded with her in Elvish.

“Will the Pontiff release you?” she asked.

“I do not know, but if I escape, I will shadow your camp.”

Maewen looked at the Athan and the Pontiff for a moment. “I had hoped to take you to elf-home after Unification, a place where you could find rest. I have many questions to ask you. The affairs of this human are offensive to me and I fear I will not be able to abide him.”

“Do it for the Chalaine. She must be protected.”

“Yes, you see your folly now. The Chalaine must be protected, but leaving you behind goes contrary to what wisdom I have.”

Maewen turned back to Chertanne. “I will go on the condition that Gen is left unharmed and released.”

Chertanne raised his hands in a placating gesture. “I cannot speak for the former Pontiff in the matter of his release. But I will not seek his death unless he is caught near my person.”

The old Pontiff, who had returned to his litter, whispered to the attending Athan who spoke for him. “The former Pontiff will remain here with Gen when the company leaves and will only release him once and if his conditions are met. He would prefer that the entire company leave the Hall immediately after which I am to seal it against exit and entry.”

“I cannot. . .” Maewen protested.

“No, it is good enough, Maewen,” Gen interrupted. “Accept it. Get them safely home. I will come when I can.” Maewen frowned, expressing her displeasure to him in Elvish before speaking to Chertanne again.

“Very well. I agree to these terms.”

“Thank you, Maewen,” Chertanne said, face relieved. “I order everyone from the Hall save the former Pontiff.”

One by one those in the ragged assembly gathered their gear and filed out of the door. Everyone glanced at him before leaving, some in anger, some in pity. The Chalaine and Mirelle left slowly, heads bent together in conversation. Soon only Maewen remained at his side. After searching the ground near where he lay and retrieving something from it that he could not see, she gathered her gear and knelt by him.

“Is there anything you would wish me to relay to your friends?”

“Just my regret. They were right. I should have left.” Gen felt drained of will and energy. His actions seemed like those of a madman. “And thank you, Maewen, for keeping me alive.”

“You have too much to answer for yet for me to let you die. I hope we meet again.”

“There is one thing I want you to get for me,” he said. “In my coat pocket there are three stone necklaces. Tell the Chalaine to wear them. They will help her. Tell to keep them secret, especially from the Aughmerians.”

Maewen retrieved them as Padra Athan and the old Pontiff watched from the dais. Once she had secured them in a leather pouch, she loped off through the doorway and into the night. Gen watched as the Athan said his farewells to the Pontiff, warded the only exit, and left. Giving up his struggle against the spell trapping him to the floor, he relaxed and wondered what the world would be like if he were ever able to escape.

They gathered on the street outside the Hall of Three Moons, sitting on a low wall or on the ground in silence. No one possessed the will to speak. Only Chertanne stood, pacing up and down, acting as calm as he could and mumbling to himself from time to time. The Chalaine found herself glancing back at the entryway of the Hall, hoping but not expecting to see Ge
n’
s familiar silhouette outlined in the light of the fireflies.

Fenna and Geoff had not returned from their marriage chambers, and the Chalaine desperately wanted to be with her friend for her own comfort and to give whatever comfort she could provide. Chertanne had dealt cruelly with Fenna to spite Gen, and the Chalaine didn’t think she would ever scrape together enough good will to forgive her husband for his crimes.

Dason sat silently behind her, and, despite his previous service, having him at her side did not feel right to her anymore. She wanted Gen back, for he understood duty and pain and therefore understood her; and while Dason and Fenna would provide comfort, Gen was the one person she knew loved her perfectly, and his counsel, protection, and company she valued above all others. Most of all, she wanted to undo the hurt she purposefully inflicted upon him to ensure his loyalty to Fenna. The lies served no purpose anymore. In her wedded loneliness, she would have given anything to hear him call her Alumira again and talk to her about anyone and anything deep into the night.

Chertanne finally broke the silence. “Maewen, when do you think we should begin our journey? Do you think we should wait a few more days for others to arrive?”

“No,” Maewen answered, sounding distant. “Our best chance to avoid the Uyumaak is to travel in the higher places and along unexpected paths. We had best leave tomorrow, for snow in the high places of the Far Reach Mountains during the early autumn is common. If we can make it across and into the plains heading east, it will be a sprint to the lake, for the Uyumaak would be fools indeed not to cut off our retreat.”

“We will leave tomorrow, then,” Chertanne said. “Everyone take your rest where you like. Meet here at dawn, and we will proceed. Chalaine, we shall quarter where our marriage bed is laid. Come.”

“I will stay here and wait for Fenna. I would ask you to clean your soiled pants before retiring, as to not befoul the bedding.”

“Guards, with me,” Chertanne ordered, voice strained.

The Chalaine waited until Chertanne passed out of earshot before turning her attention to the Athan, who stood apart from everyone else.

“Padra Athan, you did the former Pontiff excellent service during this difficult journey for him. We commend you for it. I command you, however, to release the ward on the Hall.”

“I will not, Milady.”

“I am your Queen. Release the ward!”

“I am of the order of the White Stone, Lady Chalaine. We are not oath bound to Kings or Queens, only to the Pontiff and to God. My former master and my new one would not want me to destroy the ward. I beg forgiveness if this offends you.”

The Chalaine cursed inwardly. So far her supposed authority as Queen hadn’t served any purpose at all. “Very well, though I express my displeasure at your refusal and will not forget it. Under what conditions will the former Pontiff release Gen?”

“I do not think it likely Beliarmus will released him at all, Highness. He tried to kill the Ha’Ulrich, which is punishable by death according to the law of the Church. Still, the Pontiff did favor him, and I do believe he thinks Gen’s cause was just, if misguided. However, the Pontiff sees Chertanne as the key to this world’s salvation and would not willingly place him in danger.”

“Will the Pontiff kill Gen, then?” Mirelle asked.

“There is no need. Gen will remain trapped to the floor until the Pontiff dies, and then he will be trapped in the Hall of Three Moons until he starves to death, someone removes the ward, or the ward fails.”

Until you die,
the Chalaine reasoned. She hoped she would not have to use the knowledge. She didn’t know if she were capable of using it. Her mother, however, who watched the conversation coolly, was. Athan did not know of Gen’s magic, and the Chalaine hoped Gen would devise some way of his own to leave. She would try to help him as best she could until then.

“Kimdan?”

“Yes, Highness?”

The Chalaine measured up the young apprentice. Naked anger and sorrow played on his features. The journey had proven costly for him—he had lost his father and he also cared for Fenna.

“Stand at the door of the Hall and watch Gen. Give me a report of any change in his condition.”

“Your will, Lady Khairn.” Kimdan bowed and jogged back up the hill.

“The rest of you, find your rest, save you, Mother. Watch with me for Fenna’s return.”

Fenna and Geoff walked up the moonlit avenue long after the rest of the party had retired. The Chalaine stood, watching as she and Geoff talked for a moment. Geoff nodded and, slump-shouldered, ambled back the way he had come. In moments, Fenna rushed into her embrace. The Chalaine invited her to sit with her mother as they told her everything that had happened to Gen. She cried, wringing her hands on her lap.

“Is there any hope of his escape?” Fenna asked.

“Some,” the Chalaine said. “Some. We must be patient. It may be a long time before we see Gen again.”

“Even if he did escape,” Fenna continued, “what would he do? He would be a fugitive. He could show his face nowhere, and his face is easily marked—especially after all the stories told about him.”

“He will not be a fugitive in Rhugoth,” Mirelle said firmly. “Chertanne is not held in high esteem there, and he may even find himself despised after word gets out about his treatment of us all. Gen will sooner rule Rhugoth than Chertanne.”

“But Chertanne does rule Rhugoth,” Fenna said. “Gen could not be safe there. Chertanne will no doubt have spies and supporters everywhere.”

Mirelle regarded Fenna with determined eyes. “Chertanne will be far from Rhugoth, but make no mistake. I am Rhugoth. And while I will be trapped in Aughmere for some time, my arm is longer than Chertanne knows.”

“But what of you?” the Chalaine asked her handmaiden. “What are you and Geoff to do?”

“Chertanne appointed Geoff the new Lord of Blackshire to spite Gen. We are to return there. He has exempted Geoff from service in any war and commanded us to have many children.”

Mirelle shook her head. “The Rhugothians will be outraged, if the truth about this night is ever told.”

“There is the problem of Cheratanne fomenting falsehood about Gen,” the Chalaine added. “Fenna, do you know what Geoff has recorded of the events between Chertanne and Gen? Whom does it favor?”

“I cannot say.”

“If Geoff’s account does damage Chertanne, you may find yourself in danger, Fenna,” the Chalaine whispered. “If so, make for the castle and Mikmir and secrete yourself in my quarters there. Only those who are your friends have the ability to enter there.”

“How cruel this has turned,” Fenna mourned, head in her hands. “Oh, Chalaine, Gen and I made our announcement knowing that Chertanne would try to send Gen away. We thought if we announced our marriage that he would keep me with you to hurt him. Now I can’t have Gen, and I won’t be with you. How Gen must suffer!”

“Gen knew, I think, that Chertanne would do far more than send him away,” Mirelle added. “In his own way, Gen was trying to see that you and the Chalaine would be together and provided for at his death. There is nothing any of us could have done to make this night turn out well.”

“But I love Gen!” Fenna cried. “Geoff is a good man, but it is Gen that I wanted, that I worked for. How am I to get along with another?”

“Did you consummate the marriage?” Mirelle asked.

“Yes. Chertanne sent a soldier to tell us he would kill Gen if we did not.”

“Then divorce is impossible, and probably for the best,” Mirelle counseled, placing her hand on Fenna’s shoulder. “You must try to put Gen out of your mind, my dear girl. We all should, for now. He is beyond our help, and fate will do with him what it will. He played his role, and if it is done, it is done. If God sees fit for him to do more, then he will help him and we may see him again. You can take some comfort, at least, in being wed to a man who cares for you and who is decent and honorable. My daughter received no such mercy.”

Fenna nodded, wiping her eyes. The Chalaine found no tears at all, rage at Chertanne for his treachery unseating every other emotion. To see Fenna in pain awoke thoughts of violence the Chalaine had never felt before. Unlike Gen, Fenna was harmless, and any suffering she endured, she endured unjustly and undeservedly. The Chalaine had never considered herself a vengeful creature, but in her mind she resolved to make Chertanne regret every right he had wronged. The feeling was cold, but it filled the gnawing emptiness within her.

She comforted Fenna for some time, but Fenna finally left to rest. Her mother sat by the Chalaine and leaned close, whispering so that even Dason could not hear.

“I will work to help Gen,” she said. “You must have no part of it. I know you are hurt, but you have a high calling. Let me get into the mud with Chertanne and Athan and do what must be done.”

With a comforting hug, Mirelle signaled to Cadaen and went with him into the night.

The Chalaine thought of retiring but was too furious to even consider sleeping. She took to pacing the avenue in front of the Hall, thinking and plotting, glancing up the hill at Kimdan. Three hours had passed since he started his watch, and still no report. Though she didn’t know if she could bear to see Gen again, she marched up the path, Dason silent behind her.

The doorway appeared as passable as it always had, but when she approached, Kimdan stopped her before she came to close.

“Do not approach it, Lady Khairn. The sensation is unpleasant and painful.”

The Chalaine peered inside and her heart fell. Gen’s boots and socks lay in a heap by his feet. The Pontiff slumped against the wall next to Gen, and upon seeing her at the door, waved her away. Gen’s face, pale and sweating, was also toward the door, and she saw him mouth something. As he did, the fireflies that lit the Hall streamed out through the narrow windows, casting the Hall into darkness.

“You are relieved, Kimdan,” the Chalaine ordered. “Get your rest.”

“I would prefer to watch, Milady.”

“There is no need. We can help him no longer. Rest. We have a long day ahead of us tomorrow.”

“Your will, your Grace.”

The old Pontiff said little until the morning. Gen heard him fall asleep or perhaps unconscious after the Chalaine had left. The ward held Gen down, helpless. He had hoped the Pontiff's worsening health would release the spell. The sickness and a sleepless night left Gen as weak as his captor looked when he finally rose in the morning. Gen doubted that he himself would fare much better in a mirror.

“Free me, please,” Gen pleaded. “I must protect her. The way home is treacherous. I can help!”

“Quiet, Ilch,” came the raspy reply. “You will not leave this place if I can prevent it. Mikkik nearly fooled us all. He is clever, indeed, to have put into play such a devious plan! How could we be so blind? But then again, how could we not? They checked for the mark when you entered service, did they not?”

“The Millim Eri concealed it, and they turned me from Mikkik’s way! Chertanne is more his creature than I! You must see that.”