Once A Hero (49 page)

Berengar folded his arms. "Why do you think the fight was held here?"

Hardelwick shrugged and aped Berengar by folding his arms. "As Lady Genevera has likely already noticed, there are two sources of magick here. One is this sword, which is the blade the last Reithrese emperor used to defend his empire." The emperor toed the hilt and blade protruding from the floor. "He failed to do so."

Berengar dropped to his haunches. "Nice blade."

Gena brought the witchlight down and smiled. As the light circled the blade, the sword's shadow retreated before it, as if the sword were a sundial in a world gone mad. Berengar reached out toward the blade, but refrained from touching it before either Gena or the emperor could warn him away.

"Very nice blade. Depending upon the story, according to my uncle, this sword became a dragon or screamed out a death song or blazed with fire." The count dug his thumbnail into the stone near the blade, and it flaked up rather easily. "I would guess fire?"

The emperor nodded his head. "Very good. I think it was fire as well—that story predominates the tales, though the dragon story is a better one, I think."

Gena summoned the witchlight over to the object, from which she distinctly sensed powerful Elven magick. Six feet in diameter, the circular piece of white marble had been set flush into the basalt. Elven, Reithrese, and Human runes spiraled out from the center to the edge. She reached down to touch the words and feel them slide beneath her fingers, but before she could do so, the stone shimmered, as if a reflection in a pond that had been disturbed by a rock being dropped into the center of it.

"What was that?"

Gena looked up at Berengar. "It is a simple ward, but I suspect it is meant to keep casual and inexperienced sorcerers from attempting to disturb the stone. The image we see here, the one that rippled when I touched it, is a glamour, an illusion. What we see is nothing like the surface of the stone beneath it. Glamours are often woven into Elven spells that are meant to last for a long time. It presents an image that does not age and does not change, which is suitable for a memorial."

The emperor knelt down and carefully moved his index finger around above the spiraled runes. "I cannot read Elven or Reithrese, of course, though I do recognize them. The Man runes are an archaic form. I believe they come from the Roclaws. The Roclawzi ambassador does not have a linguist with him, but he has sent a request back to the mountains to send one to me. I can make out some of the message, but the fragments do not make much sense."

"The Elven is older, but I can still read it." Gena concentrated, canting her head this way and that to follow the line of script, "Glory does not lie within. Merely a sword that did win / An empire washed in blood. In the name of the common good. Let he who puts hand to hilt. From sacred duty never wilt. An empire won will yet fall / If not governed for the good of all."

"I had less than a third of that."

"Not great poetry."

Gena looked over at Berengar. "Less the fault of the poet than my retranslation of something likely written in Mantongue and translated over into Elven. I would say it is rather common in terms of a burial warning."

"Yes, but how many burial sites are warded by Elven magick?" The emperor smiled as he dipped his finger down and the image rippled. "Quite potent, this magick."

Gena nodded. "I agree, which means it is keyed."

"Keyed?" Berengar frowned. "Is that different from using some sort of fuel to power the spell, as you explained to me after the ambush?"

"Ambush?"

"Haladina, Excellency, and the reason for our mission."

"Ah."

"To answer your question, Berengar, yes and no. If you will recall, I described to you a spell that worked on arrows to increase their speed and power."

"The one you used on the sand."

"On sand?" The emperor leaned in toward Gena. "Fascinating."

"Yes. That spell was keyed to arrows after a fashion, but it worked with the sand and could be made to work on rocks or spears or any other sort of projectile weapon." Gena pointed to the stone circle. "This spell, because it is protective, is keyed magickally. It is, in essence, a lock that requires a specific key or set of keys to unlock it."

"I need Cleaveheart. Can you unlock it?"

Gena thought for a moment, then nodded her head. "I know I can, but doing it without the key will be all but impossible. If Larissa cast this spell, and I feel enough of her in it to make me think His Majesty was right in saying she was the author of it, I should be able to learn what the key is. With that I can break the spells and we will recover the sword."

She shrugged. "Getting that information, however, is not going to be easy."

Berengar stood. "No expense is too great, Lady Genevera. You know that."

"It is not expense that worries me." She sighed as heartache and anxiety washed over her. "It will be difficult, and those who have the information may not want to give it to me."

"I will convince them."

Gena almost laughed, "You are persuasive, my Lord, but even the emperor could not guarantee our getting the help we need."

"I don't understand." Berengar frowned. "Why will this be so difficult?"

"To get the key we have to travel, my Lord." Gena looked down and shivered. "To Cygestolia, where we will have to convince those who knew Neal and his wishes to betray his secrets to us."

The Elves began assembling their host immediately. Word went out by means mundane and magickal telling the warriors, archers, lancers, Imperators, and sorcerers to assemble for the Reithrese campaign. Sparks constantly shot from the forges of Cygestolia, making that section of the city glow as if the Reithrese were forcing a volcano up through it.

I was informed that the assembly would take place near the borders with Barangas and Kutchtan. It made sense from the strategic point of view because that would put us closest to Reith while allowing us to remain in Elven lands. We would march through Batangas, its vast plains making for swift travel and allowing our horses to feed on grasses, which meant we did not have to carry with us as much in the way of supplies. In addition, the Human population of Batangas was largely nomadic and would be able to move out of our way.

Use of the circus translatio to move troops had been ruled out. There was no need for speed or stealth—the Elves wanted to give the Reithrese every opportunity possible to gather together in defense of their nation, because they wanted them all in one place. Besides, a genocidal war is not something to be undertaken in haste. I did not doubt we would prosecute the war, but I think all of us wanted a long march in which to embrace the responsibility.

The host would proceed in three columns. The main column, the one to which I would be attached, would go directly in at Alatun and lay siege to the city. The other two columns would guard our flanks and then sweep down to seal the country and destroy all the Reithrese trying to flee. None of the Reithrese would be allowed to live, a concept that made my nights sleepless as I considered mothers and babies falling under the sword.

While uncomfortable with that idea, I came to terms with it on the journey. My brother's plans for the Roclaws looked at moving us away from a warrior tradition and toward a more constructive and productive trading base, but his choice to make the people of the Roclaws peaceful and prosperous would not stop the Reithrese from destroying them. Any Reithrese left alive after this would have such a hatred for Elves and Men that retribution, as justifiable as it would seem, would become the core of their lives. And while the survivors, were any permitted to survive, might be small in number, there was no way to underestimate the regenerative or reproductive powers of the Reithrese.

My sleeplessness over this point isolated me from Larissa. As Finndali's wife, she spent her waking hours making preparations for him to go off to war. I did not begrudge him her service, I envied it. For my part, I had Shijef and Lomthelgar attending me, but neither of them could offer me the comfort she could, though both did prove distracting.

Finally, in the wee hours before we were scheduled to ride from Cygestolia to the rendezvous point, my restless peregrinations took me to the empty Consilliarii amphitheatre and there I found her. The moonlight that snuck through branches glowed from her face. She wore a gown of silver, trimmed with lace at bodice and wrists, that left her shoulders bare where her long golden hair did not hide them.

Even when we danced, even in our dreams, I had never seen her look so beautiful. She saw me, and the dour expression on her face lightened. It never reached full joy, but her being able to change a grim frown into one of mild concern made me smile, and that brought another degree of relief to her face. Had I died right then, I do not think I could have died happier.

I bowed to her. "I cannot tell you how happy it makes me to see you this night." I looked out at the city in the trees. "Everyone is consumed with family concerns tonight, which is expected. Your family has been very kind to me, but this is their night to be with Aarundel and Marta. I would have thought you would be with your husband tonight."

She glanced down. "I was."

I nodded, covering the pain that simple reply stabbed into my heart.

"I'm sorry, Neal, if that hurt you. I would spare you hurt, but I want no secrets between us, no distrust."

I walked toward her. "I trust you completely, in that which you tell me and that which you do not. Not needing secrets between us does not mean they will not exist, by intent or omission. I love you, so nothing you could do would hurt me." I laughed aloud and looked around at the empty seats. "Can you imagine what would have happened to me if the Consilliarii were here when I said that?"

"Could anything they chose to do be worse than the choice they gave you three weeks ago?"

I shook my head. "It could not."

Larissa slowly began to circle me, and I turned to keep facing her, but she held her hand up. "Stay still. I want to remember you here, tall and strong, ready for battle."

"Should I be smiling, or do you wish the face I will give the Reithrese?"

"You will always be smiling in my memory, Neal of the Roclaws."

I fumbled with the pouch on my belt and removed the bracelet I had created. "I made this for you, for it truly is all that I am. It is not much—the same goes for me—but the bracelet and I are all yours." I held it out to her.

She completed her circle and delicately took it from my fingers. Two inches, one, separated us, yet remained a gulf as wide as all the oceans. My heart pounded, and inside I wanted to reach out to pull her into my arms. I wanted to hold her so closely that I would never forget the press of her body against mine. I wanted to smell the night air through her hair and taste her lips on mine. As my gaze met hers, I saw she wanted the same thing in that same instant, yet both of us held back, restrained by laws created in the very place where we stood alone and unwatched.

I released the bracelet and looked down. "I'm going to die out there. You know that, don't you?"

"Don't say that. You could survive."

"Lies should not be our fantasies, Larissa. We both know I will not be coming back here."

In silence she slipped the bracelet onto her right wrist, then raised it to her bosom and held it there with her left hand. "That is . . . it is the nightmare with which I have lived since the decision was made to go to war."

I swallowed hard. "I don't fear death, really. I resent it, because it will take me away from you, but I know there is no way I will survive this campaign. If no one else dies, I will, because the Reithrese cannot let me live. And I am willing to trade my life in order to make sure they are destroyed."

"I resent it as well, Neal." She smiled sheepishly. "I have fantasized about stealing away in the supply train that will care for the army. I would be there to heal you when you fall."

I looked down at my burned left hand. "And deny me another scar to explain to your husband in twenty-nine years? This is a collection of which I am not proud, and had I felt your healing touch at the start of my career, a collection I might never have allowed myself to assemble. Now? I think the time for stubborn old fighters like me is passing."

"And employing my art to save you would doom you."

She nodded solemnly to me. "I would gladly accept exile, but I will not be the instrument of your death."

"And I would not rest easy if I knew I had caused you to be sent away from your people." I looked down. "Though leaving you will tear my heart out, I cherish the time we have had together, the dreams we have shared and the joy we have known."

She smiled. "I love you, Neal, and will forever."

"And I love you, Larissa, and will love you forever." Wordlessly, but by mutual consent, we lay down there on the floor of the council chamber, slept, and dreamed together of forever.

The forest was alive with Elves as we gathered in the morning to ride out. The Cygestolian contingent was to be twenty percent of our force and Aarundel conservatively numbered it at twenty-five thousand individuals. Five Legions, each breaking down into fifty companies with one hundred individuals in it, the Cygestolian force combined two Lansorii legions, one each of light and heavy infantry and the last a mix of archers, engineers, and sorcerers. Each company had its own bright banner, and the Elves gathered in hollows and on hills, in glens and in meadows, to say good-bye to their loved ones.

I sat ready to ride with Aarundel's company, in a legion commanded by Finndali, so I was honored to have Calarianne, Thralan, Lomthelgar, and other important Elven officials present to see us off. Most of the conversations took place in Elven, but the tears and brave words carried their meaning to me easily. I had been part of this sort of scene all my life, and this time I was reminded of the occasions I had ridden from the Roclaws in search of adventure.