The Commanding Stone Part 18

"Yes, but-" His eyes suddenly grew wide. "Are you trying to tell me that that's the...thing..."

'Yes," said Gerin as he got to his feet. "The Ammon Ekril of the Archmage contains the kalaya mithran. It's what the Havalqa have been searching for. The Words of Making."

"I always knew there was a hidden power in the circlet," said Hollin.

"All of the knowledge we could ask for is right there!" Abaru pointed to the Watchtowers. "It's absurd that they won't tell us more."

"Can you imagine what they know?" said Hollin. "But they're bound by the laws of their making. A tragedy for us."

"Rules were made to be broken," said Abaru. "One day I'm coming back here and I'm not leaving until they open their d.a.m.n doors."

"Paraclade said the same thing," said Hollin.

Abaru glowered at him. "Shut up."

Gerin was quiet as they broke camp. The others shared their dreams with one another, with the nonwizards asking Hollin and Abaru question after question about the history they'd been shown. They knew nothing of the Atalari and found much of it confusing.

Gerin was shocked when Balandrick said Reshel had appeared to him in his dream. "It was wonderful to see her again. But by the G.o.ds, it hurt too."

Gerin was surprised to find himself upset and angry with Balandrick. He did not like the idea of sharing Reshel, no matter that it was with the man with whom she had fallen in love. It seemed to cheapen his own dreams in a way, robbing them of their uniqueness. No matter how much he told himself it made sense that Balan would see her as well, he could not dispel his displeasure.

When Balan asked Elaysen who had come to her in her dreams, she replied, "My mother," and would say no more. Gerin could tell she found the experience unsettling, but he was too wrapped in his own thoughts to reach out to her.

Hollin's mortal wife Katara had appeared to him. He was deeply moved by the experience. He beamed when he spoke of seeing her so vividly. "I think of her often, even now, but there was a tangibility to the dream that I can't deny."

Abaru's eldest daughter, Lemsha, long dead, was the form the Telchan plucked from his thoughts. Tears sparkled in his eyes as he described seeing his daughter as a young woman, and at one point had to stop speaking for fear of weeping, his jaw trembling as he tried to maintain control of himself.

Gerin continued to ponder what they had been told. That the Words of Making and the kalaya mithran were the same thing was inarguable. He also had no doubt that the Circlet of Emunial and the Ammon Ekril were the same. All this time, the power had been before them. They simply had not known it was there.

But that knowledge created a host of additional questions. From what he'd seen in the visions, the kalaya mithran truly was a power of creation-he did not understand how it could be used as a weapon against the Adversary. He'd been shown the Army of Ending using the kalaya na'ethrem-known to history as the Unmaking-but the blue diamond and the power it contained must have been destroyed in the Last Battle of the Doomwar. Nothing had survived that cataclysm. That power was destroyed. The Kholtaros was given a second diamond containing the power of the Unmaking in case it was needed later, but the first attempt to use it by the Atalari had succeeded, and the Kholtaros themselves were lost to history. That route was a dead end.

The Arsailen might be part of the answer to defeating the Adversary, but he did not see how even that power, if it could be replicated somehow with the kalaya mithran, could destroy a G.o.d manifesting himself in the mortal realm.

And how exactly did one use the kalaya mithran? None of the dreams had shown how the power was called upon or used. And if it were indeed still residing within the Ammon Ekril, why had no wizard ever discovered any trace of it?

When he asked the wizards that question, neither of them had answers. "I think we can surmise two things," said Hollin. "One, that the power is of such a unique nature that wizards cannot detect it, similar to divine power." He cast a sidelong look at Zaephos. "The other is that it may no longer be within the Ammon Ekril. We saw in the vision of the Changing that the power was separate from the circlet until the kalaya mithran joined with the new Matriarch. Perhaps the kalaya mithran is not in the Ammon Ekril, having fled after the destruction of the s.h.i.+ning Nation. We don't know the full history of the Ammon Ekril, so there is no way to know when the power might have left it."

"But if that's what happened, we're no better off than we were before," said Balandrick. "We still won't know where it is, only where it was."

"Not really," said Abaru. "Even if the kalaya mithran is not in the Ammon Ekril, we know that the circlet is its 'home.' We'll just have to figure out how to call it back from...well, wherever it might have gone."

"Did any of your dreams show you how to do that?" asked Balan. "Because mine didn't."

Gerin's thoughts whirled with questions, but he realized most of them would not be answered until they could examine the Ammon Ekril in person. How could it be used as a weapon? Why was he shown the Arsailen and the Army of Ending? He did not understand how they fit into this puzzle, but he would. He had to. This was the key to defeating the Adversary. He felt closer than ever to grasping the complex tapestry he'd been woven into several years ago with the manifestation of a divine presence in his rooms at Hethnost. A tapestry he'd only glimpsed in bits and pieces, something almost unknowably vast that encompa.s.sed everything from his magic to the arrival of the Havalqa. He'd fought against his inclusion in this plan, believing it robbed him of his self-determination, made him nothing more than a p.a.w.n in someone else's game; that it made him common, a mere tool to be used and discarded when his task was complete.

"Zaephos, was it you who came to me in my rooms at Ailethon?" asked Gerin. "I felt a divine presence several years ago. It spoke my name and told me my time was coming."

"No," said the messenger. "My first contact with you was on the road to Hethnost."

That surprised him. He'd always thought the manifestations were by the same being. "Then who was it?"

"I don't know. It's possible the Maker spoke to you directly, but I cannot say."

He wondered what that meant, if anything, then decided he would not concern himself with it. He'd come to the conclusion some time ago that he would no longer worry about things he could not control. He could only live his life and do what he thought was right. It had lifted a great weight from his shoulders. He had not realized how oppressive this burden was until he'd been relieved of it. He'd decided that fighting the Adversary was a worthy endeavor-no, it was vital that the Adversary be defeated, if Osseria itself was to be preserved.

And what an accomplishment that would be! A deed unheard of since history itself began, far surpa.s.sing the great accomplishments of his ancestors. It aligned with his own secret dreams and fears-his desire to become the greatest Atreyano who ever lived, and his worry that he would not live up to his promise or the lofty goals his father had always wanted for him.

Defeating the Adversary won't bring back Reshel or Father, but in some small way it may atone for my mistakes that led to their deaths, he thought. I can't ever forgive myself, not completely, but perhaps those who come after me will realize that I always tried to do what was right, even if I sometimes fell short.

Once out of the Hollow, they swung back toward the southeast in order to reach Hethnost, which lay on the far side of the Redhorn Hills. The hills themselves were too rugged, too heavily forested, for them to cross. They would have to go around their eastern end and approach Hethnost from that direction.

Two nights after leaving the Hollow, Balandrick approached Nyene. She was sitting away from the others, her back against a st.u.r.dy oak as the stars awakened above them. She regarded him with an amused smile as he sat cross-legged in the gra.s.s a few feet in front of her.

"Have you come to gag me?" she asked. "Has my mouth gotten me into trouble yet again?"

"Not today, though you came close earlier when you kept arguing the route we should take."

She shrugged. "I was only pointing out that your plan will take longer than a more direct path."

"Yes, but as I said, we're trying to avoid the more populated areas of your country. Better a longer route than to fight our way along a more direct one. But that's not why I'm here."

She folded her arms. "Very well. Why are you here?"

"I want to know why you dislike Elaysen so much. I would have thought the only two women on this journey might find a way to be friendly."

Nyene rolled her eyes. "How can you not see? She's insufferable with all of her talk of her father and the One G.o.d. She acts humble but believes she's better than everyone else. Her feelings for your leader are plain for anyone to see even though she denies it, or he denies her."

"That's more complicated than you know." Nyene still had not been told that Gerin was King of Khedesh.

"But you will tell me nothing more of this 'complicated' relations.h.i.+p with your lord."

"Sorry, no." He stood and stretched his back. "Good night, Nyene."

It was a beautiful evening, and Balan decided to walk the camp perimeter. They were near a small lake nestled in the crook of three wooded hills. He ambled around the lakesh.o.r.e in no particular hurry. He saw a big-antlered deer on the slope ahead of him and wished he had his bow. They could use some fresh meat. The buck saw him a moment later and darted up and over the hill.

He climbed up the slope after it for lack of something better to do. He had not gone far when he saw a woman lying on the ground ahead of him. She was crumpled in a way that made him certain she'd been attacked and wounded. He could not tell if she was alive or dead.

He ran to her and knelt. She lay curled on her side, as if she'd been warding off kicks to her body. Her face was hidden, covered by her hair.

Then he saw the dark skin of her hands.

He started to jump back just as she whipped her hand out and grasped his own as he was reaching for his sword.

The instant she touched him, he went cold. All of his volition left his body. His conscious mind seemed to retreat within him, replaced by something that controlled him utterly from outside.

"You are mine," said Katel yalez Algariq. "Follow me, and remain silent."

Screaming in his own mind but powerless to resist her, Balandrick followed her over the hill and away from the camp.

20.

Where the b.l.o.o.d.y h.e.l.l has he gone?" Gerin's feelings were a jumble of fury toward and anxiety about his missing captain. When they first noted that Balan was not in the camp, Gerin was annoyed, and sent a handful of Taeratens to find him and bring him back. Now, after searching for three hours, the soldiers had returned without the captain or any clues about what might have happened.

A round of questioning determined that Nyene was the last to see him, but she said only that he'd wandered off around the western side of the lake as night was falling.

"Did he say where he was going?" Gerin snapped.

The Threndish woman kept her composure in the face of his outburst. "No. He said good-night and left. That's all."

"If you've hurt him..." said Elaysen.

That angered Nyene. "Are you a fool? A simpleton? Why would I harm him? What would I gain? I like the captain."

Elaysen's face darkened. "He means a great deal to us," she said. "We're concerned. I apologize for accusing you."

Elaysen's apology caught Nyene off guard. She appeared not to know what to say.

Night had come on and it was too dark to search anymore. The wizards tried to locate him with Fa.r.s.eeings and Seeking spells, but could not find a trail or any other sign of Balandrick.

They searched the next day, spreading out methodically from their camp by the lake. Gerin's anxiety turned to dread. The wizards used their power to search the lake in case he'd somehow fallen in and drowned, but they found no body in the water.

Shayphim take me, where has he gone? thought Gerin. He wouldn't have run off. That's absurd. We've seen no sign of the enemy in these lands, either Threndish or Havalqa. We didn't find a body. There's been no sign of magic. Zaephos can't tell us what happened.

Balan, the G.o.ds save me, where are you?

He hadn't felt this frantic since Reshel had died. Even his father's death had not sent him into such a dark spiral of doubt, fear, and anguish. Balan was his only remaining friend. He and Therain had grown closer over the past few years, but they saw each other seldom since Therain had gone to Agdenor, and less since he became king. Claressa...well, Claressa was Claressa, and nothing else needed to be said. Balandrick was the only constant in his life.

A coldness clutched his lungs, and he had difficulty drawing breath. He could not conceive of losing Balandrick. It was unthinkable. Yet it had happened. Two days of searching, and no sign of him. They could not stay here much longer. They needed to get to Hethnost. Every day they remained was another day their enemies might find them, and this time there would be no miraculous fire from the Watchtowers to save them.

Gerin allowed them to stay and search one more day, but by then all of them knew Balandrick would not be found. No one voiced their fears aloud, but it was plain enough on their faces, their dejected glances at one another. They spoke little, and what they did say was dispirited and gloomy.

On the evening of the third day, Gerin told them they would be leaving in the morning. They had to continue on to Hethnost. They could not keep waiting and hoping for something it was now obvious would not happen. Balandrick was lost.

"Let's hope he can find our trail and follow us. But waiting is no longer an option. He's a soldier. He'll understand." He disappeared into his tent, where the little sleep that came to him was dark and troubled.

They made their way past a few farms and homesteads on their journey toward the Redhorn Hills, though they skirted by a wide margin any towns spotted by their outriders.

They endured a fierce rainstorm that lasted for three days, soaking them to the bone and turning the earth to deep, sucking mud. The stream they'd been following rose quickly and overflowed its banks. It led them to a river they might have been able to ford before the rain but which was now a swiftly flowing current they dared not enter. They followed its course for more than a day until they reached a covered bridge that allowed them to cross to the southern bank.

Gerin found some time every night, if only a few minutes, to study dalar-aelom with Elaysen. It reminded him of better days, and took some of the sting out of Balandrick's absence.

Elaysen had been scouring their route for medicinal plants and herbs so she could replenish the supplies she'd lost at the Watchtowers, but nothing she found, even the plants she kept, seemed to please her.

"Is there something in particular you're looking for?" Gerin asked her.

"I want everything I lost, my lord, but there's little in this country I can use."

"Perhaps you don't know where to look," said Nyene.

"I know perfectly well how to gather what I need," Elaysen shot back. "But Threndellen is so wanting for proper medicines, it's a wonder any of you survive your first year, or have any teeth in your head past the age of five."

The plains gradually gave way to rougher, forested land as they neared the Redhorn Hills, whose pine-covered slopes were barely visible on the horizon.

"You're free to go, Nyene," said Gerin a day later, with the hills looming ahead of them like a great natural wall. "You've been true to your word, and I thank you for that. But I think it's time for you to return to your people."

"I will continue with you," said the Threndish woman. "I saw many things in the dreams of the Telchan, and I believe now what you said when you told me that all of Osseria may depend on what you do. How can I best serve my people if I win a small skirmish, only to lose everything because I turned away from you? No, Lord Gerin, I will see this to the end."

Gerin's initial reaction was to refuse her, but then he pondered the thought a little more. She had been granted dreams by the Telchan. They all had, and some of the dreams were different than others. Hollin had seen bits of the building of the Watchtowers themselves, Balandrick shown more of the gathering of the Army of Ending and its final march, Elaysen some of the Atalari healers at work, and Abaru had described the construction of a new quarter of Vacarandi by the unique stone-melding power of the Kholtaros. Nyene had seen some of that construction also, and the Last Battle of the Doomwar.

That made him wonder if she had a part to play in the coming battle against the Adversary. Perhaps the Telchan had given them all dreams for a reason, to provide them not only with knowledge of the kalaya mithran and kalaya na'ethrem, but to give hints and clues that they would discover as time went on.

Hints and clues that might be vital in the coming days.

Why take the chance? She had proven herself so far, and now they were about to leave her native lands. If she wanted to accompany them, who was he to deny her?

"You may join us," he said. "You're not bound or obligated to me or this company in any way, and may turn back at any time. That decision is yours."

Nyene was clearly surprised by his decision. "You've chosen wisely."

"See that it's a decision I don't come to regret."

21.

Balandrick could not believe how effectively the Soul Stealer had overpowered him. He'd heard both Hollin and Gerin speak about the absoluteness of her power, that the very will to resist was removed from any interaction with one's body, so he could not even attempt to challenge her magical bonds.

He'd privately thought their descriptions were exaggerated so as to make their inability to escape seem more understandable in the eyes of others. Now he knew they had not exaggerated at all.

He wondered if this was the same Soul Stealer who had captured Gerin. She looked like the woman he'd described-small, thinly boned, with delicate features and dark skin and hair-but for all he knew, the Havalqa could have brought dozens of these Soul Stealers with them. Maybe they all had to be women, or they all came from the same region. He had no idea. She'd not yet told him her name, and he had no way to ask it, so for now he would have to be content with conjecture and uncertainty.

As soon as she captured him, she led him away from their encampment. She had a horse waiting beyond the hill, and soon they were galloping eastward across the plains. She commanded him to get on the saddle behind her and place his arms around her small waist. His body obeyed instantly even as he screamed against her within his mind.

They rode fast and hard until they had to rest the horse. When they dismounted, she gave him a small amount of water. He watched her intently, trying to determine a weakness. She was efficient and calm. She did not waste words. She told him what she wanted him to do, then fell silent. There was no idle talk, no questions. Just commands, then silence.