The Heartstone (25 page)

A small moan brought her back; Geneth lay stunned on the hot sands. Ariana crawled over to Geneth, gently pushing the matted hair from her face. A bruise marred the sunburned cheek. Ariana looked up at the rider who’d captured Geneth.

“Look what you...” She said

“Silence, you will not speak.” The rider ordered.

“But...” She said.

There was the slightest motion under the wavering heat and eight drawn bows of gleaming wood inlaid with gold faced her. She froze, staring at the black tipped shafts. Slowly she lifted her hands, subsiding down into the sand.

She smoothed Geneth’s hair. She couldn’t access the Stone’s full power without giving herself away. But she unobtrusively sent healing through her touch. The bruise faded. Geneth’s sunburn faded from red to pink. Her pale eyes fluttered open. She sat up.

“What…” Geneth said.

“Shh.” Ariana gestured, “We’re prisoners.” She whispered.

“Silence.” The nearest horseman ordered sharply.

The palace doors opened and a waterfall of horses rippled down the broad stairs. With great precision and power, they circled the prisoners. Galloping at top speed in an intricate dance of chestnut, brown, black and dapple-gray, the horses wove an intricate spiral. Snorting, with ears pricked and flags flying, horses stepped within inches of each other never colliding. Their riders swarmed over them, sometimes on one side or with legs extended up in a strong column to the sky.

A golden nimbus formed. The shadows of the horses on the gleaming sands elongated. Radiance streamed from pounding hooves, mingling with the flowing manes and tails. The light burst forth in a starburst over the galloping horses. Ariana shielded her eyes.

The Stone throbbed against her breast in time to the hoof beats. The riders flowed into two lines forming bands of colors ranging from ebony to alabaster. The rider’s robes matched their mounts. They pulled their hoods and masks off, looking up to the bright sky. Their hair was long and the intricate braids flowed down their backs like manes.

A horn whinnied, the palace doors opened again. Hundreds of people surrounded the common where they waited. The entire population was rapt, watching. The doors stood open for a minute. Nothing happened. A golden stallion appeared. His mane flowed over his supple neck like flaxen silk. His gleaming coat ranged from deep amber points to the brightness of a new-minted coin. He pranced. He knew he was beautiful.

The rider’s golden robe flowed down over the stallion’s glossy haunches. He wore a golden torc, amber and gold beads embroidered into his robe clicked as the horse curveted. One tanned hand held the gilded reins; the other rested easily on his thigh. Tanned and weathered by the sun his sky blue eyes emphasized by the gold tattoos on his face. His platinum hair was spiked ornately into the semblance of a mane. He looked annoyed.

Reaching them he stood on the saddle and let the robe drop. He stood silhouetted against the sun. Ariana tried not to gasp. Golden swirling patterns covered his powerful torso delicately tracing the tanned skin. But more remarkable, they moved and shifted as if he was covered in golden filigree. Arm rings of platinum and gold circled his arms.

“I am the Sunlord, Lyon. Do not dare my wrath. These are the patterns of my conquests. My enemy's blood flows from my sword like sweet wine. What do you have to say before you die?”

Ariana pulled Geneth up. Awkwardly they bowed to Lyon. Her mind raced. Their fates rested on her ability to explain.

“Your names, intruders? We would add you to the patterns properly.” Lyon said. His horse swished an impatient tail.

“I am Ariana. This is Geneth, handmaid to Luna.”

“What do you do here?”

“I come seeking the Second gate Heulwen.” She said. The onlookers moaned.

The Sunlord’s eyes widened. The horse snorted as if legs had clamped tight around the barrel stave ribs. “It is forbidden to speak of that.” He said.

Eight men in black with ornate knots decorating their robes stepped forward. Bows flashed into position, pointing at the prisoners. There wasn’t the slightest tremor in the shafts to mark the pallor under the tan. Lyon made the slightest of gestures. The men stepped back gesturing around their hearts.

“Follow me.” Lyon said. He raised his voice. “My people, I will find the truth of this. If they are outlander witches, they will die. Until my judgment, go home and fear not.”

He turned, gesturing for them to follow him. He made his stately way into the palace. Ariana and Geneth followed flanked by the eight officers, who ignored them. Ariana glanced at Geneth. Her face was frightened but composed. Ariana sensed a suppressed excitement that seemed out of place in the present situation. They walked up the steps through the doors. The doors were gilded, covered in intricate carvings of horses and warriors. Ariana stopped and stared.

A shove between the shoulder blades reminded her she wasn’t a tourist. Through the doors was a great courtyard where the men dismounted and untacked the horses. Each man took a moment to say goodbye, putting an arm around a glossy neck. Some straightened a forelock or even breathed into their horse’s nostrils. After this farewell the horses trotted to the stables alone and unaided. Even the Sunlord, bade farewell to his horse before walking into the great hall.

Vast and airy, the polished floor melded into vaulted walls latticed with windows. Light flooded the chamber. White gauze in the windows billowed, diffusing the light. Tasseled gold cords held the curtains. Ariana felt like she was in a ship. Under each window enameled emblems brightened austere walls.

At the far end, a golden canopy hung over a dais. A throne flanked by two seats dominated the platform. Carved from luminous stone the throne almost floated. Behind the throne was a massive arch in the shape of the rising sun. On the left hand chair reclined a pale woman with platinum hair falling severely down her back. Ice blue eyes widened at the sight of them. Then she calmed herself looking impassively ahead. On the other side, a young boy looked gravely down at them. His hair was so pale it was almost white.

The Sunlord sat on the throne. The soldiers and attendants stood in rows. He looked at the pair. The silence grew. A few people coughed. Someone shifted. The neigh of a horse wafted in through the windows.

“What do you have to say in your defense?” Lyon demanded.

Ariana’s mind raced, how much to tell him? She opened her mouth. Geneth interrupted her with a gesture and stepped forward. Taking a deep breath she flushed beet red. Pulling the shoulder of her tunic down Geneth revealed a small silver sigil on the pale skin above her left breast. Looking directly at Lyon she said, “My lord, I claim kin rights.”

The room exploded. Ariana stared at Geneth. Geneth was reticent to the point of secrecy. Despite Ariana’s efforts she’d learned little about the girl’s past. Nobles clustered gesticulating and yelling. The queen looked like she wanted to skin Geneth. Catching Ariana’s eye, her impassive mask whipped back into place. The Sunlord frankly gaped at the girl standing dignified and still amidst the chaos. Ariana felt so proud of Geneth tears came to her eyes. She’d confronted her worst fear, conquering her shyness.

“Silence!” The command lashed the room like a whip. Utter stillness descended. “Well girl, pray continue.”

Geneth cleared her throat. The slight cough rang loud in the silence. Ariana smiled encouragement. Geneth took a deep breath.

“I am Geneth handmaid of Luna. My father was Tareth, youngest son of Tareg, First of the Silveray.”

Murmurs broke out. Lyon stopped them with a gesture. Silence reigned, except for Geneth’s voice.

“My mother was Genna, a weaver of Saethwyr. She was a bondservant to Tareg’s house. She and Tareth fell in love. Luna blessed them with a child. Clan laws forbade their marriage so they ran away. They crossed the desert alone on foot. At the edge of the sands Tareth was bitten by an adder and died.” Geneth choked, her voice trailed off.

A muffled cry came from a white-haired man. His sons stood stoically around him with tears in their eyes.

Taking Geneth’s cold hand Ariana said,” You don’t have to go on.” Geneth shook her head, wiping her eyes,

“My mother went mad with grief. The shock brought on her labor. The Handmaids found her. They took her in and she died soon after. By bonds of blood and love I claim kin rights.” She looked up defiantly at the room.

A man dressed in silver robes stepped forward. His proud face and eagle eyes dared anyone to stop him. He was tall; the remains of good looks lingered around his mouth and eyes. He looked intently at Geneth. His hair was silver and his eyes brown not blue but age had barely blurred the profile they shared. His gnarled hand reached out. He gently exposed her birthmark. A single tear trickled down his cheek. Geneth waited. Abruptly Tareg pulled his granddaughter into his arms. Convulsively Geneth hugged him. She clung to him sobbing. Ariana’s throat was tight. Standing next to Geneth he put his hand on her shoulder.

“Here is Geneth, daughter of the house of Tareg. May Lyw shine his radiance on her. So speaks the Lord of the Silveray.” Tareg looked at Lyon. Lyon nodded.

”What say the herdlords?”

A roar filled the hall. Tareg’s family rushed forward clustering around the newest member of the clan. Excited chatter filled the hall. Geneth’s hand held Ariana’s in a death grip. But enthusiastic relatives pulled her away. Geneth was pale under her sunburn and her eyes were glassy. She looked imploringly at Ariana and fainted. Everyone started yelling.

“Silence,” Tareg roared. Sweeping Geneth up into his arms he strode from the room. Ariana followed right behind, the rest of the clan on her heels. They hurried to the Hall of the Silveray. It was directly to the right of the great palace. Ariana realized the pennants and devices corresponded to each hall’s location relative to the palace. It related to color; black and white were furthest away, silver and bronze ranged on either side of the palace.

Silver flags embossed with the figure of a rearing horse decorated the entrance. They walked into the courtyard. Word had preceded them. Servants bustled around getting a chamber ready. In the center, dwarfed by the marble doorway, stood a woman, the gentle lines running out from pale eyes barely marked her face she hurried forward and put her hand on Geneth’s forehead.

“It’s the sun sickness.” They hurried down the hall. She sent servants for salve and tea. She scattered the hovering kinfolk with raised eyebrows. “Go about your business.” Ariana refused to leave. They reached the bathhouse. It was filled with greenery, decorated with white and green mosaics. There were two pools, one shallow and gently steaming, the other deep and cold. Tareg laid Geneth down on a white marble bench.

“Dearest, leave us now.”

“Lorena...”

“I’ll take care of her.” The woman started undressing Geneth. Tareg put his hand on her shoulder. Absently Lorena patted his hands with hers. He kissed her hand and left. Quickly they stripped the girl and slipped her into the plunge pool. The flush faded from her skin and she sputtered in the chill water.

“Stay child; let the water take away the heat.” She said.

“What’s going on?” Geneth said.

“Don’t talk child. Lean back and let the water heal you.” She stopped suddenly, “Listen to me, I never even introduced myself. I am Lorena. You are my guests and welcome under my roof.”

She looked down at Geneth. “I would have known you anywhere. You are a true daughter of the Silveray.” She caressed Geneth’s wet cheek. Lorena turned and looked at Ariana. “You are our honored guest for you have brought our granddaughter home. All I have is yours.” The calm blue gaze seemed to see her heart. Lorena smiled.

“Thank you ma’am, I am Ariana.”

“Well that’s enough of that. You children are tired and need rest.” Lorena helped Geneth out of the plunge pool. The she turned and gestured for the servant to come forward. Taking a jar of salve out of the basket she slathered it on Geneth’s skin. Then she covered her in a light robe and gave her a beaker of fragrant tea.

“I will leave you now. I need to make your chamber ready. I will have your things brought to you. You will of course, want to bathe also and rest until this evening.”

“Thank you, ma’am.”

“I will leave you here. I will come back to show you your room.” A soft rustle of silver silk and she was gone. Ariana looked over where Geneth sat relaxing in her silken robe. She stripped out of her traveling clothes and slid into the shallow pool. It was heaven, warm and fragrant with crushed herbs. Once she was clean the servant put some of the lotion on her and gave her a robe and tea. For a few minutes she just sat.

Lorena appeared to lead them personally to their chamber. She gestured for them to follow. For a moment she stopped and touched Geneth’s rosy cheek pushing a pale strand of hair back behind her ear. Geneth ducked her head with ashy smile. Lorena smiled and they walked to their chamber.

The room was whitewashed and accented with carved wood panels. Carpets obscured the stone floor. A table spread with sliced fruit, flowers and pitchers of water waited in the center of the room. A colorful profusion of pillows surrounded it Lorena went over to a panel. Sliding it open she revealed an alcove carved into the wall, inside nestled a sleeping pad, equipped with a pillow and quilt. Ariana hungered to lie down on a real bed.

“Dear ones rest and refresh yourselves. When you have rested, I will have the servant bring you suitable clothing for the banquet, this evening.” She slid gracefully from the room.