Chapter 24 – Royin

 

Akhmar came hours later. I had been sleeping, that horrible sort of sleep where you linger just at its edge, not dreaming but not thinking anything coherent either. Just a helpless paralysis that clings to your mind as well as your body, so that even waking up seems beyond reach.

Slowly I sensed his warm, ethereal light bathing me, then I became aware of the voices speaking nearby.

“Bless the hour of your coming,” Yatol was saying.

“A dark hour, nonetheless.”

“Should I wake her? We have no time.” An unsettling pause. “Akhmar. Do we have any time at all? How far has the force gone?”

“To the edge of the Perstaun, but no further.”

“But how much time before they come to Alcalon? A few weeks? Longer? But even if it were months, how can we possible reach K’hama so soon?” Another pause. “Even if you were to carry us to its borders…”

“Even if I do, you must still find your way to the Citadel, midway into the Void.” His voice was calm, without any strain of anxiety or dismay.

“It’s hopeless!” Yatol cried. “What can we mean to do?”

It was the first time I’d sensed that forsaken mood in him since the Brethren had come, and it shook me to the core.

His voice dropped. “What did Davhur think he could accomplish? Even if we find him, we will be half a world away from the army that threatens us! Are we even right to try to track him in K’hama? If Pyelthan does indeed have some purpose, and isn’t just a symbol of office, then shouldn’t it go to Zhabyr? I want to find Davhur, of course, but we cannot withstand a siege in Alcalon. Not forever.”

I caught my breath. It had never occurred to me that we might be defeating ourselves by taking Pyelthan into K’hama. But the idea of forsaking the search for my dad made me furious.

“Do you trust me?” Akhmar asked, and I wondered if he was speaking to me, reading my thoughts.

“Akhmar,” Yatol said, as though in disbelief. “Yes. Of course. How could you ask?”

“Then trust me when I say that you do not go into K’hama in vain.”

I forced my eyes open, just in time to see Yatol nod resignedly. I struggled up and limped over to them, then stayed standing because I was afraid to sit back down.

“Yatol, listen! I asked you once if Pyelthan was the way I could come to Arah Byen, and you said, if only it were that simple. But it isn’t, and thank God for that! Because whatever it is, and whatever it does, it will change the fate of this world. And somehow I think my father did what he did because he knew I would follow him. I may not know what I’m supposed to do, but I think he did. I have to trust him. And so should you.”

He gazed at me curiously, and I felt Akhmar’s approval. I held out my hand to Yatol. After a moment his face softened, and he took my hand and got to his feet.

I had forgotten how fast Akhmar could run. I was clinging to Yatol before Akhmar had taken a full stride, and didn’t dare open my eyes for a full minute. Finally I settled back into the swinging rhythm of his pace, but I still had no inclination to look around. I thought I would be able to hear branches cracking and undergrowth rustling around us, but I only heard the wind. Once I opened my eyes, saw the forest blurring past under the enduring gloom, and closed them quickly again.

At some point Akhmar stopped, and we slid off his back exhausted and numb. Vaguely I heard him tell us to rest, but I didn’t need anyone to tell me. It seemed even darker when I woke up, and it took me a moment to realize that it was because Akhmar had gone. Wide-awake, I scrambled to my feet and ran to Yatol, shaking him violently.

“Where is Akhmar?”

He woke slowly, shaking his head and staring around as if not entirely sure what I was asking him. That was weird. I couldn’t remember him ever being so deeply asleep that he couldn’t be alert and aware in a moment. He sat up drowsily. The weariness in his eyes was contagious, and my temporary burst of energy faded in the space of a moment. I dropped onto the ground beside him.

“Yatol? Why is it so hard?”

“Tyhlaur said this region was treacherous, but I didn’t know why.”

I knotted my fist and pounded it against the loamy ground. “Because it makes us tired?”

“It will only get harder, the closer we come to the Void.”

“It can’t be that bad,” I gritted. “He made it through, didn’t he?”

“Tyhlaur only went as far as the outer border of the Branhau to scout.”

“There’s no other way, then?”

“No.” He twirled a tough leafy stalk in his fingers, then snapped it into bits. “If we had more time, maybe. But this is the only way for us now.”

I grumbled.

“Just rest now.”

“Where is Akhmar?” He started to lie back down, so I punched him in the arm. “Don’t lay down. Where is Akhmar?”

“Somewhere…”

He waved dismissively and reclined on the ground.

“Akhmar!” I shouted, jumping to my feet. “Akhmar!”

That got him up. “Quiet!” he cried. “We don’t know if there are any Ungulion still near us here.”

“Yeah, well, don’t lay down.”

He glowered at me.

I smiled smugly at my triumph. Presently I glimpsed a faint light off in the distance, fluttering through the stark silhouettes of the trees. As it drew nearer it split into two. Akhmar’s familiar burnished radiance, and another, paler but more intense. I let my breath out in relief and waved in their direction.

“There.”

Yatol turned to look, and a glimmer of joy just touched his eyes.

“Who is that with him?”

“Amoin, Brother of birds – and scouts.”

They were with us sooner than I expected. Amoin reminded me of Mykyl, but he wasn’t nearly as formidable. There was a shimmering translucence to him, as if he had just been gathered from the scattering winds. He spoke directly to Yatol.

“They are safe, Farseer. They bore the battle until you had gone, and before you came to the Branhau they escaped before the face of the enemy.” He turned his eyes on me – they were like prisms. “Your brother called me to their defense, for they stayed long to let the others return safely. I bore them away, then he bade me bring word to you.”

“They’re safe!”

“He can see you, then?” Yatol asked. Then, in realization, “You rescued us before.”

“It was I. As to him seeing us – vaguely, yes. More than the young scholar can. More even than Tyhlaur.”

Yatol closed his eyes. “They’re safe.”

“You took them to Alcalon?” I asked.

“Ah, no! He would tolerate no such voyage. They went back to the camp. But the army is moving, and perhaps against its will retreating toward the city.”

A moment of silence passed. I could feel tangibly that Akhmar was communicating with Amoin, wordless, with unreadable gazes. I glanced helplessly at Yatol and found him watching them intently, his face mirroring my confusion. Akhmar turned suddenly back to us.

“Come,” he said. “The Citadel is still half a world away.”

I turned to Amoin. “Will you watch over them?”

“I would not let them out of my sight,” he said, holding my gaze.

Somehow, looking into the unfathomable depths of his eyes, I couldn’t imagine anything being lost to his sight.

He didn’t smile, or offer any words of blessing or farewell – but I felt them. Then he was gone. Yatol already sat on Akhmar’s back, and as soon as I joined him everything melted back into grey gloom.

“Yatol,” I said when we were underway. He turned his head a little, so I went on, “You said you know this land here. What is it like? How far does the Branhau reach?”

“It curves part way around the Perstaun, and I believe it stretches down nearly a week’s journeying – for someone on foot, anyway. After that we know there are some low hills. They extend down to the Laoth, the sea. I don’t know how big the Laoth is. None of my people have ever crossed its full breadth, or reported their discoveries if they did.”

My blood went cold, and I instinctively thought of my father.

“Do you think we’ll find him there?”

“Your father?” Yatol said. “I don’t know. But I believe so.”

Akhmar hadn’t spoken a word through our conversation, but now he slowed and turned his fire-hued eyes to us.

“Are you hungry?” he asked. I nodded meekly, and Yatol, stolid for a moment, agreed. “I will be back shortly.”

Yatol slid down. As my feet touched the ground I sucked in my breath, feeling like I had been punched in the stomach with an icy fist. Yatol gripped my arm to steady me.

“Merelin?”

I watched Akhmar vanish into the trees, then turned to gaze back the way we had come. The forest was grey and silent. Not empty.

“I can’t get it out of my head,” I said at last. “It’s been in my thoughts since we returned.”

“Here, to the Branhau?”

“No, to Arah Byen.”

Some breath of wind stirred the treetops, but it startled me with more than just surprise. My face must have showed my terror, because Yatol spun around to survey the forest.

“What do you sense?”

“Someone following us,” I said, miserable. “I felt it first when Khymranna came, then again in the Ungulion camp. I didn’t feel it again until we came back to the Branhau, when you went to find food.”

His gaze shifted over the trees, wary, then back at me with deep concern.

“Is it at all like that night in the Perstaun?”

A strange calmness crept over me. I shrugged indifferently and said, “I guess it was nothing. I was just being silly. Besides, what could possibly follow us when we’re with Akhmar?”

He didn’t seem convinced. And when the brush behind him broke and rustled, he grabbed the knife from my belt and spun around.

I didn’t move, or scream like I thought I might. I just froze, raw terror seizing me with infuriating strength. Then the vines parted and two men ducked through, both holding ready weapons and one carrying a flaming torch. They stared at us, and us at them, then suddenly Yatol tucked the knife in his belt and raised his hands.

“Ingaea!”

“Yatol!” cried the taller one.

He lowered his spear at once, his grey eyes lighting up with joy, and he embraced Yatol fiercely. The older man still stood with his short sword bared, apparently in no hurry to sheath it. Some strange hostility burned in his eyes, but he didn’t say a word.

“Royin, it’s Yatol!” Ingaea cried. “Has it been so long since you saw him?”

“Aye,” the other man said acidly.

Yatol suddenly recognized him and he recoiled looking stricken, like a condemned man. This meeting had rubbed some old wound raw, and I winced as if it were my own. I went to stand beside Yatol – an angry sparrow in the midst of hawks. Royin ignored me. He still had his gaze fixed on Yatol, eyes like splinters of ice. If his face had been any blanker, it couldn’t have been more expressive. There was no set to his jaw, no frown, no furrowing of his brow. He just stared with deep hatred at Yatol, and Yatol would not meet his gaze.

“What divides you?” Ingaea asked, bewildered. “In what conflict did you part?” His gaze strayed over me, a quick disinterested glance as he turned back to Royin. “Have you harbored this hate for four years?”

“Four years,” Royin repeated, his voice like sluggish venom. A deliberate pause, then he concluded, “Aye.”

“What—” Ingaea began.

“He knows.”

Yatol stood straight and still, but the pain in his eyes tore at my heart. I couldn’t understand that grief, or the hatred that rankled Royin’s mind. I glared at him and took Yatol’s arm. I don’t know why I did it, but Yatol glanced down at me with a faint smile of surprise.

“Can’t you let the past die?” Ingaea asked.

“Rebuke him, not me,” Royin said. “He was willing to let our future die.”

And suddenly I remembered what Yatol had told me about my father’s last return to Arah Byen, and I knew exactly what he was talking about. I felt all the blood seep from my face, then rush back with burning heat.

“How dare you?” I shrieked, clenching my hands in fists. Yatol grasped my shoulders, but I wrenched away from him. “How dare you? Who are you to accuse him?”

Royin gave a thin, empty laugh. “And who are you to defend him, little sister? I was there.”

“You’re a liar!”

Yatol drew me back with his arms around my shoulders, and I clung to them, shaking with rage and grief.

“What has Yatol done to merit this?” Ingaea snapped, then added, low, “The most honorable man I know.”

“You know nothing of what happened. A foolish deserter, that’s all Yatol amounts to. Where do you suppose he’s off to now, if not to escape the battle ahead?” Royin had spoken with sudden quickness, harsh and jarring, but then his eyes narrowed and he said in that slow venomous hiss, “It was always like him to abandon his duty.”

I felt the muscles in Yatol’s arms tense, then suddenly he released me. He grabbed Royin by the shoulders and flung him against a tree. His face was dark with wrath, and his eyes burned. Don’t kill him, Yatol. Don’t kill him.

“And where were you?” he gritted, holding his forearm against Royin’s throat. “Where were you when he needed you?”

“It was you who abandoned the portal!”

Yatol’s arm tightened against his neck. “He was dying! He was dying and you did nothing! Whose cowardice was it, Royin? He gave everything and you stood by to watch.”

“I did not fail my duty…”

Yatol released him abruptly, drawing back his arm as if to strike him. But then his gaze went cold and impassive, and he lowered his hand.

“Do you have any idea what duty is?” he asked, voice low with scorn.

“You are still a coward, then!” Royin called after him, rubbing his throat. “And a fool.”

“But it was him my father trusted, not you!” I cried. “Whatever duty you think he abandoned, he is still sacrificing himself to fulfill!”

“Merelin,” Yatol murmured.

But Royin straightened, curiosity getting the better of him. “Your father?”

“Yes. Davhur – my father.”

And Royin laughed. Thin, cold laughter.

“Your father was Davhur,” he crowed. “And you travel with this man? Did he ever tell you what he did? Or did he hide it in his shame?”

“I know what happened,” I said coldly, face burning. “I know what you failed to do. Of the two of you, I would think you would be the one hiding things in shame. That’s cowardly, to use someone else’s actions to hide your own guilt. And if you think I’d let my judgments be swayed by yours, you’re a fool as well as a coward.”

I turned away, seething with contempt, adrenaline and anger hammering in my veins. I didn’t hear Royin say anything else, but after a moment of stifling silence the undergrowth rustled and I canted my head just enough to see him stride off. I only felt sorry that he had taken the torch, leaving us in dim uncertainty. Ingaea stayed with us, but for some time neither he nor Yatol spoke. Their faces seemed ghostly in the faint half-light.

“He never forgave himself for that day,” Ingaea said finally.

“Neither did I,” Yatol growled.

Forgive who? I wondered.

“There’s an outpost nearby that Royin and I just left. They have food and beds, and weapons if you need any. I can take you there if you like.”

Yatol hesitated.

“Please do,” I said quickly.

I could feel Yatol’s questioning gaze, but I didn’t return it. Those few moments of silence had renewed my earlier rush of fear, and now I stood in the terror that whoever or whatever had been tracking us had nearly reached us.

“We’d like to go,” I said, desperate. “Where is it?”

And suddenly a flock of birds exploded from the trees deeper in the forest, swirling into the murky sky and shrieking a chaos of retorts. I jumped.

“Yatol…”

“Take us,” he said to Ingaea.

Ingaea nodded and took a brand from his pack, lighting it with a flint before heading into the trees.

“No need to be alarmed,” Ingaea said. “I’m sure the kirgahl were just startled by Royin. That was our direction. We’re heading toward Alcalon. The runners called us out…not sure if we’ll make it to the lines before the Ungulion surround them, but we’re going to try.”

He was rambling on, trying to ease my fears, when a terrible scream cut through the forest. It hit us like raw tortured anguish. We all froze, but the scream wouldn’t stop. It carried on in waves of greater and greater pain, then suddenly something came crashing through the brambles.

None of us knew him, that first moment he appeared, still sobbing in torment. I couldn’t make out his features, if he had any left. A shriek tore from my throat, and I lifted my hands. Ingaea grabbed me. Everything blurred. Everything except Royin’s tattered face. I couldn’t tear my gaze from it. Shredded hands reached out to grab Yatol’s shoulders, bloodied eyes stared up at him. All his broken weight sagged toward the earth. Yatol gripped his arms and staggered to support him.

“He is looking for you!” The words dragged from his throat. “He has been following you!”

His knees buckled, but Yatol managed to hold him up.

“What, Royin? Who? How many?”

“The Lord of K’hama! He himself!” Royin gasped. “A score of Ungulion with him. Forgive me, Yatol. This time I didn’t fail…” He sucked in air and his hands spasmed on Yatol’s shoulders. “He questioned me…I said nothing. Nothing! Go…flee…you have time…” His eyes widened. “Forgive me.”

His head sagged down, and Yatol lowered him carefully to the earth. He stood gazing down at him, hands open at his sides. They were red, hands and arms and shirt, all streaked and damp with the crimson blood from Royin’s broken body. I thought he had more wounds than flesh, and Yatol’s arms blurred into the same tortured form. I clung to Ingaea. I felt nothing. I stared at Royin’s empty, featureless face, even when Yatol came toward us.

Yatol took me from Ingaea’s grasp, reaching to take my head in his hands. Blood. Bloody hands. Torn, bloody hands. Royin’s hands, stretching out to grab me.

“No!” I screamed, pulling free. “Leave me alone!”

I tried to ward him away. I didn’t see his face. Only the head, the empty, bloody head with tormented eyes. Hands reached up, spread wide to reassure me, but I tore away in terror, collapsing in a shuddering heap. My body ached with sobs. Couldn’t breathe. No sooner had I gulped in air than it was spent. It felt like drowning.

A sound cut through my terror, something vague in the distance. Sticks breaking. I felt myself swept off the ground. The grey world drifted to black.