Wrath Of The Medusa (Book 2) (33 page)

Giseanne had struggled to balance the demands of Regency which made Rugan her vassal and the demands of matrimony
where, in Rugan’s view at least, the positions were reversed.  They had moved forward, sometimes in a series of jagged steps to reach the outcome she desired by a path Rugan had not anticipated.  Word had been sent to Nordsalve, Oostsalve and Salicia.  The garrison in the Eastern lands would be withdrawn as soon as passage could be arranged, the Prince of Oostsalve had been told to part with the rest of his troops and the Lady Isobel would stop cowering behind the fast flowing River Derrach and prepare to take an offensive against the invader.  It was progress, but it was also good to have a moment just the two of them.  Baby Andros had gurgled happily in his father’s arms until the wet-nurse arrived for his feed and now the half-elf Prince and his human lady were free to talk, unencumbered by any audience.

“Y
ou really think they are your brothers’ children?” Rugan asked as he settled beside her in a chair overlooking the gardens. 

When she nodded, he exclaimed, “both of them?”

“Yes, I believe it, Rugan.  They are my close kin I am sure of it.”

Rugan sunk deeper in his chair, resting steepled fingers against his mouth.  “I still say she must prove it.”

“She will Rugan.  You did not see her as a child, there were few could stand against her.  Matteus did well in bringing her up unaided.  In bringing morality and discipline to that tenacity of purpose.”

“She’s a stubborn mule who has much to learn about rulership.  I’ll not trust my people to her whims.”

“She’s a quick study, Rugan.  May be you should tutor her in rulership.”

He laughed at that, though she was only half joking.  “I do not think I and the Lady Niarmit are yet ready to exchange lessons.”

There was a crash as the doors opened and both Prince and Regent spun to see what had occasioned the disturbance.  Rugan was on his feet.  His fingers twitched towards the sword he had taken to wearing about the palace since Kychelle’s murder.

“Sister!” he exclaimed.  “These are my private quarters.  How dare…”

“What is amiss, Seneschal?” Giseanne waved her husband into silence, taking in more quickly than he the dis-shelved distress which shrouded Quintala. 

“Hepdida,” the Seneschal gulped.  “It is the P
rincess Hepdida?”

“What of her? Does she need another frock?” Rugan’s anger at the intrusion had not yet dissipated.

“Quiet, husband.  Seneschal speak.”

“She had taken to riding alone, she left the stables this morning.  She has not returned.”

“It is barely afternoon,” Rugan harrumphed.  “I sometimes ride for days.”

Giseanne unde
rstood Quintala’s concern, the Princess was no horsewoman fit or keen for a long ride.

“
Her horse is back.  Riderless.”

Rugan’s disdain softened into genuine reassurance.  “We all fall from horses, Seneschal.  Like as not she is following the animal home bruised and on foot.  Probably not far from the palace and well on the way to being a better rider.”

Quintala shook her head unhappily and Giseanne seized her husband’s arm.  “I know,” the Prince said, patting his wife’s hand.  “We will send out riders to help her home.”

“Kaylan is already out there,” Quintala said.  “
I will go straight after him from here.”

Giseanne dug her fingers into the Prince’s wrist.  “You go too, Rugan,”
she said, eyes wide with fear. “You go.  Go and find my niece.”

“Where is she?” In his haste Odestus made an ungainly dismount.  It took him several sideways steps to recover his balance but for once he did not give a fig who saw the high and mighty Governor stumble, nor begrudge the bruising ride his feckless steed had given him.  “Where is she, Willem?”

The big outlander gestured towards a narrow
defile cut by nature into the southern cliff face.

“You left her there?” Odestus screamed.  “You left her.”

The outlander shrugged.  “No one would go near.”

“Maybe she’s not dead.”

“Oh she’s dead all right, but even dead they’re still scared of her. This is the snake lady remember.”

“What of Kimbolt?  He wouldn’t have left her.”

“The bed slave?” Willem raised an eyebrow and pointed north to a gully its side blackened with smoke.  “Must have been burnt to buggery with the rest, by those bastard elves.  Haven’t seen hide nor hair since before the trebuchets went up.  Reckon he’s ash and she’ll soon be dust.”

“Come,” Odestus commanded, striding south.  When Willem didn’t follow, he called again.  “Come, Willem, we cannot leave her there.”

“I’ve got things to do here.”  Willem grunted.

“What? What things?”

“I’m pulling them back, abandoning these positions.”

“Dema would never…”

“Dema is dead, mister wizard.  The red headed witch has got all the boys spooked.  They’re saying she can’t be defeated, they’re saying she can’t be killed.”

“They used to say that about Dema.”

“And look what’s happened, mister wizard.” Willem waved up the slope towards the unseen crest of the pass.  “If that witch came out and farted at the front line she’d have them running all the way back to Listcairn and I’m not sure they’d even stop there.  I’m pulling them back while I can still pretend it’s my choice not hers.”

“But Dema?”

“She’s gone.”

Odestus glared at the outlander, hands on his hips.
  “I’m going to get her, myself.”

“Careful, little
wizard, it could be dangerous, sure as shit was for the snake lady.”

“Well then you can explain to the
Master how you let me walk up that defile all by myself.”  Odestus turned and stomped away, not too fast but fast enough.

“Hold up, mister wizard,” Willem hailed from behind him.  “I’m coming.” There was a barked order and a couple of nomads abandoned their packing of bedrolls at the outlander’s command.

It was a narrow twisting crevice in the rock where one could not see far more than a few yards ahead.  All the way Odestus prayed to a Goddess he had forsaken that it would not be true, but it was.  They rounded a corner and there she was, lying on her back, staring sightlessly up at the sliver of cold blue sky bounded by two walls of rock.

If her stillness had not convinced him, the blood that pooled beneath her and ran down the gentle slope could not be disbelieved.  Willem and the nomads turned sideways, creeping towards her by touch more than sight, but Odestus had seen the blond hair stretched across the ground and he approached unblinking, trying to remember every detail so it could torture his days and haunt his nights for months to come.

  There was blood at her mouth, an ugly broken wound beneath her collar bone where the blade had broken through flesh and bone and chain mail. He gasped, hand flying to his lips to stop the very thought.  She had been struck from behind.  Of course, who would dare to have faced Dema? How else could she have been beaten?

He knelt at her side, picking up the black gauze from where it had fallen and pushing it into his pocket.  She lay there, blond hair strewn across the stone and those deep brown eyes.  Her skin was cold beneath his touch, her face a blur as hot wet tears dripped from Odestus’ eyes.

“She is not how she used to be,” Willem murmured, finally grown brave enough to look.

Odestus shook his head, scatterin
g salty tears.  “No Willem, no, she is exactly how she used to be.”

“
We should cover her face,” the outlander said after a moment’s pause.

“No, Willem, not yet.” Odestus mumbled.  “A moment longer please.  I’ve waited twenty years to look into her eyes.”

“He’s found her!” The call went up and Giseanne turned towards the clamour to see her husband emerging from the woods.  He was on foot, his horse following obediently behind.  He carried the girl in his arms, dark hair and hands trailing, her head lolling against the half-elf’s chest.

“He’s found her.” the cry was duller.  Sharp relief blunted by the Prince’s sombre gait.

There was a movement
further south along the treeline a man so far away.  Kaylan, running faster than Giseanne had thought a man could run.  Charging past the jogging servants and soldiers who had been party to this search.  On Rugan’s other side Quintala hurried towards her brother in graceful haste but she stopped when still some yards short of her quarry, not daring to approach closer.

The crowd of searchers gathered and then parted to create an avenue of silence by which Rugan could approach his wife.   He walked slowly
, each gentle step rocking the Princess in his arms.  Giseanne looked for a smile, for a twist to his lips, for some flicker of joy in her husband’s expression.  She found none and flung both hands to her mouth while her heart pounded in her chest.

There was a commotion as Kaylan crashed into the back of the crowd of onlookers, fighting his way through them with feet and fists, though they were quite ready to step aside.  The thief was screaming.  “She’s not dead.”  He shouted.  “She’s not dead!”

It had been a dark alley, a merchant taking a short cut home.  There was no danger in that.  The Salved Kingdom was the safest in the whole world.  A child could walk unharmed from Sturmcairn to Oostport so what fear had a merchant in one little alleyway.  And there she had found him.

“Hello, little wizard,” she had said.

“What, who,” he had stammered, his wits a little slowed by three short glasses of green liqueur.

“Hello, little wizard.” She had walked towards him all tall and graceful, closing the distance between them in a couple of strides.

“I don’t know who, er that is,  I think you have mistaken me for someone else.”

“No mistake, little wizard,” she had been close enough for him to inhale her scent.  Blond hair flowing over her shoulders, brown eyes staring into his.

“Who are you?” His addled brain had grasped a concrete question.

“My name is Dema, little wizard, but I like to think that I am your opportunity, and you are mine.”

Odestus
breathed in deeply, trying to capture the memory of that scent two decades and a hundred leagues away in the cold tower of Listcairn.  It eluded him.  He tipped up the bottle. It was empty.  A whole bottle of the sickly liqueur which she despised all gone.  What would Dema say to that? Nothing, Dema would say nothing not now, not evermore.

He fumbled around his neck
for the black medallion.  The Master should hear of this. He glanced out of the window, the Sun was some way short of setting.  It was too early for the Master’s audience. 
Bugger that, let’s drag the bastard back from which ever plane he is partying in.  There is misery to be shared and that undead miser of joy should take his piece of it.

Odestus
folded his hands around the black disk, breathing hard and trying to fight the waves of nausea as his liqueur dinner threatened to assault his taste buds from behind.  
Only in the direst emergencssssssssy should a good ssssssservant of Maelgrum sssssssseeek to ssssssssssumon the massssster
, he parodied the undead lord in his head. 
Well, you bastard,
he thought. 
This is such a time, come into my head and share it.

The force of Maelgrum’s arrival in his mind was almost physical, a ball of vomit shot up his throat and could only just be swallowed away, leaving a sickly aftertaste.  The liqueur didn’t taste any better the second time.

What issss the meaning of thisss, Odessstusss?

Emergency,
it was hard to keep the slur from his thoughts.

What ailsss you, Odessstuss?
  Beside the raging fury the wizard could sense his Master’s curiosity.  It took a lot to surprise Maelgrum, a sensation that either amused or inflamed him.  Odestus no longer cared which.

You need to kn
ow.
Odestus flung the thought at Maelgrum.  A vision of the empty bottle striking the undead lord in the face filled the wizard’s mind.

Where are your wits
ss, Odessstusss, are you drunk?

The wizard’s mind was black with Maelgrum’s rage, a cold fury that had his teeth chattering.
Right,
Odestus wrestled a thought free.
Not amused then.

Tell me why you have sssummoned me, Odessstusss, or I will go and take your addled mind with me, ssso that only a vacant ssshell remainsss ssssitting in your own piss
ss and sssqualor.

Dema’s dead,
he screamed it in his head. Pictured himself yelling those two words over and over again in the blackened holes where Maelgrum’s ears had been.  He didn’t care, nothing mattered, let Maelgrum take him he’d already lived twenty years too long, saved by Dema’s charity.

But no fury came, only silence
, a calm more terrible than the anger.
It hasss happened then!
Maelgrum’s thought echoed around the little wizard’s skull.
When? How?

In the Gap of
Tandar, she was ambushed struck down from behind.

Who elssse sssaw thisss happen?

No-one, no-one was there.  She died alone
. The thought wrenched another sob within his mind.  He felt Maelgrum flick his grief away in irritation.

That isss
good,
Maelgrum muttered.
It isss sssimpler that way.

Good?!
Odestus’s brain screamed.
What is good in this?

Where isss the body now?

Atop her funeral pyre, we will bid her farewell in flame at sunset.

Noooooo!
 

The rage filled Odestus’s skull with a presence which threatened to squash his own mind out of existence.  He slid down in his chair, face contorted, grimacing with an instinctive fight for sanity in the furious torrent that was his master’s anger. 

You will not dessstroy her body.

Why?
The thought evaporated from the surface of Odestus’s conscience.

Ssshe isss mine, Odessstusss.

The little wizard found his voice at last as the tsunami of undead ire receded.
You ignored her when she was alive, why care now it is too late.  She’s dead.  Our forces in the pass are defeated and in retreat.  Niarmit could come storming down the valley and none would try to stop her and all because you ostracised and neglected Dema.  You wasted her talents, setting Galen against her.

I had no choicsse, Odessstusss. But do not take me for a fool.  The passss will be held and in the Ssspring, the ressst of Eadran’sss wretched realmsss will fall under my sssway and all of Eadran’sss ssspawn will perisssh.

Odestus was sweating, the alcohol driven from his system by the probing menace of his master. 
Where must I bury her then?

I will come to you, Odessstusss.  Let me pay my ressspectsss before we inter the lady.
You mussst open a gate for me. Thisss Lisstcairn isss a placsse I have not visssited before, one of Eadran’sss new sssettlementsss.

Master.
The fight was gone from the little wizard.  Dema would not have faltered, she would have railed and stormed against the undead will.  The last thought Odestus shared with his master, before beginning the conjuration that would open a pathway through the planes, was that in this as in everything he had failed Dema.