Moons' Dreaming (Children of the Rock) (3 page)

“
Your father doesn
’
t see Damon the way you do.
”

“
Then I have to show him!
”

“
There
’
s a glint of battle in those eyes of yours.
”
He shook his head, fluffing out the hair surrounding his face.
“
No. There
’
s nothing you can do.
”

“
Am I not even permitted to try?
”

He thought for a moment before answering carefully.
“
You
’
re a princess. Hion
’
s daughter. Damon
’
s opposite. Perhaps you can be of some influence on the king. More likely not, but who am I to keep you from trying?
”
He released her and stepped aside.
“
Go to your father,
”
he told her.
“
He was still in the audience chamber when I left. Go, if you must. I have work.
”

She let him by and watched him hurry out of sight, through the door to the guard barracks. He had a great deal to organize if the execution was to take place without any difficulties. An execution that he would have to oversee.

Vray
’
s heart tightened with anguish.

“
No,
”
she whispered hoarsely. She ran for the audience chamber.

* * *

I
’
ve been dying for years now
, Hion of Rhenlan thought as he slumped in his seat, letting the pain have its way with him for a few minutes, using it to take his mind off his latest decision. He was alone, as he liked to be, his son and counselors gone about the business of concluding the matter.
A long time dying for any man
, he complained to the silence. He would have to make it swift and painless for that poor lamb Dea sent him. Foolish, stubborn woman. He hunched forward, resting his head in his hands. The pain was very bad today. He had barely been able to make it through the meeting without showing his weakness.

He had been a heroic king once, a proud and conscientious Shaper, responsible for freeing his country from the ravages of the last of the fire bears. Fire-bear wounds were poisonous, a cumulative poison. Hion had been wounded more than once in his combats with the creatures. The last time had been fatal, a slow fatality that even Greenmother Jenil could not prevent. She could only slow his dying, coming to Edian every year or so to perform what healing magic she could. Her talent kept the pain damped down to something he could live with. She always apologized because there was no cure for him, and wondered, solicitous in her silly Dreamer way, that he lived at all.

Jenil couldn
’
t cure him, but at least the Greenmother
’
s magic kept his heavi
ly
muscled body from turning into barrel-chested fat. She masked the ravages of the pain, keeping his blond hair from going white too quickly, his blue eyes alert instead of dulled from pain-numbing herbs.

“
I
’
m a stubborn man,
”
he had told Jenil more than once, and repeated the words into his hands now.
Have to be stubborn, have to live until Damon learns enough to take my place.

“
Father?
”

Hion jerked upright, and found Vray on her knees before his chair. Her cat-eyed face was full of worry.

“
What are you doing here?
”
he asked gruffly, more annoyed than usual at the girl
’
s resemblance to her mother, whose slender grace and feline features he
’
d once found so attractive.

Vray sat back on her heels, looking up at him anxiously.
“
Are you ill?
”

Gathering his strength about him, Hion sat up straight, squaring his shoulders and masking his face with a scowl.
“
Silly child.
”

Odd how neither of his children resembled him. Damon looked more like Hion
’
s sister, pale-skinned and raven-haired. Vray was the image of Gallia and her whole red-maned family. The guardsman Dael, blond and blue-eyed, looked more like him than his own flesh.

Thinking of Dael and looking at Vray reminded Hion of something.
“
What
’
s this I hear about you at the Golden Owl?
”

Vray blushed.
“
It
’
s a perfectly respectable inn.
”

“
Where my guard
captain spends much of his off-
duty time. Leave the man alone, child. If I hear of him dragging you home once more
—
”

“
That
’
s not important now,
”
she cut him off, and got to her feet. Before he could gather enough air into his lungs to thunder at her disrespect she hurried on.
“
I have to talk to you about Emlie. You can
’
t kill her, Father.
”

Vray was a stubborn, difficult child, and he had neither strength nor inclination to fight with her now. Nothing held her attention for long; he would answer her questions, and she would go away and forget the whole unpleasant incident.
“
It
’
s the law, girl. The dispute
’
s not been settled within any of the precepts the law allows. Dea delegated her authority to her daughter, and now the girl must pay. I
’
m only trying to prevent more deaths.
”

She stared at him.
“
Prevent death by killing? How, Father?
”

“
It
’
s no affair of yours, Vray. Go to your studies.
”
She stubbornly remained where she was, her expression pleading, and let the silence build between them. Hion finally grew uncomfortable enough to growl,
“
Well?
”

She cupped her elbows in her hands, pressing her arms close to her body.
“
Father, there is no honor in this.
”

“
And what do you know about it?
”
Hion demanded.. Before the fire bears came, the world had been full of honor, and laughter and security and magic and all the other frivolities of those prosperous, untroubled times. By the time Hion became king, honor and tradition were luxuries that took time and energy away from the immediate fight for survival. Damon understood the sacrifices demanded by necessity, but his daughter never would.

“
You
’
re training me to be a Redmother,
”
she reminded him angrily.
“
Damon
’
s Redmother…
not that he
’
ll ever listen to anything I have to say. Not that you listen to me.
”

“
Your childish arguments have no place in the council chamber.
”

“
I
’
m fourteen. Emlie
’
s just sixteen, unmarried. Doesn
’
t that make her a child, too? Will you kill a child?
”

“
She plotted treachery against me! Against our people!
”

“
I don
’
t believe that.
”
She walked away into the shadows near the hearth, then paced back to confront him once more, chin up, eyes glaring.
“
I don
’
t think Damon believes it, either. The girl is a poor negotiator, that
’
s all, and Damon
’
s pride was hurt when she refused to marry him. That
’
s the real reason he wants her dead!
”

“
Your brother
’
s only concern is the welfare of our people. You would do well to learn from his example.
”

“
What about Emlie
’
s welfare? What about Queen Dea?
”

“
Enough! I
’
ve made my decision.
”
He could no longer concentrate on her naive, jealous accusations. The pain was consuming him. He wanted to go to his chambers where he could be alone to scream the agony away. He wanted even more to be rid of this hornet and her stinging words.

“
Be gone, Vray. Now.
”

“
You
’
ve made a mistake.
”
Her words held the tone of a Dreamer
’
s prophecy. Light fell on her from the room
’
s high windows, turning her hair to flames, hurting his eyes.
“
You can stop it, or we can all suffer for it.
”

Hion clutched the chair arms and heaved himself to his feet. Tottering unsteadily he lunged at his daughter, open palm striking her across the face.

“
I said, be gone!
”
he roared.

She whimpered and collapsed into a blue heap before him, silenced. For now. Hion gazed down at her. Her huddled figure roused a dim, guilty memory of the laughing three-year-old daughter who had enticed him into games of hide-and-seek, and clambered into his lap in search of affection. He remembered the first time her innocent exuberance pained one of his old wounds, and her tears at his anger when he sent her away.

He shook his head to banish the memory. An explanation or excuse would have been useless then, and would be useless now. Dear Gallia had taught him that.

The girl raised her head and touched a cut one of his rings had made in her fine-skinned cheek.

“
Be gone,
”
he repeated once more, and slumped back into his chair.

Shame and sadness mingled in her whispered,
“
Yes, Sire.
”
Without looking at him, she pulled herself to her feet and fled from the room.

“
Look out behind you!
”

Pirse, prince of Dherrica, didn
’
t waste time looking. He swung his sword wildly over his head, threw himself to the left, and half ran, half slipped between the sturdy trunks of two towering trees.

The dragon tried to follow. Its frustrated roar mixed with the creaking and groaning of splitting wood as it struggled to thrust its huge body after its prey. Leaves, insects, and pieces of shaggy bark showered down on Pirse. The jungle shook with the sounds of the monster
’
s fury and the alarmed screams of birds and animals.

Flipping hair and sweat out of his eyes, Pirse ducked away from the splintering trees and charged uphill, right under the belly of the rearing dragon. He sucked in great gasps of air, driving his tired body forward, legs quivering with the strain of keeping in constant motion on uneven terrain. The dry, acrid smell of sun-drenched dragon skin was everywhere.

He brushed past the tip of the monster
’
s tail and was clear.
“
Chelam!
”
he yelled, whirling to face back toward the dragon.
“
By the Rock, where are you?
”

For answer an arrow whizzed past his shoulder and bounced off the dragon
’
s rump. Pirse back-pedaled up the hill, sword held ready in both hands. The dragon, its heavy head, sinuous neck, and powerful forelegs still entangled in the upper branches of the trees, bellowed again and began a ponderous turn to its right. Another arrow arched over Pirse
’
s head and caught the dragon below the curve of its double-hinged jaw. Outraged, it flung its head back and almost lost its balance.

“
Gods, you
’
re a slow one,
”
Pirse panted, gazing up and up and up at the creature. Monster. Dragon. Whatever name it wore, this particular beast was three times the size of a horse. Not particularly large for a land dragon, which was fine with Pirse.

Arching its neck to peer down at the jungle, the dragon took a deliberate
step forward. The ravaged trees
which had collapsed against it tottered and fell. Turning his head, Pirse spotted the cottage-sized boulder he
’
d chosen at the beginning of the battle, and began easing toward it. The slower this monster moved, the better.