The Dark Throne, page 9
“Defeating Malravenar,” Sage answered seriously. “And that means making sure you are strong enough to wield your full powers.”
I glanced up at his sudden levity. “All right. I’ll rest, you bring me the research you’ve been doing.”
“Deal.” Sage nodded. He held out his hand expectantly, and I gave him my right hand with its bloodstained bandage. As he began unwinding the bandage, I wondered, not for the first time, what it would take to defeat the darkness rising in the Fae world. I knew there would be more warriors who gave their lives, waking up one morning without the full knowledge that it would be their last, riding out into battle and falling at the hands of the hideous creatures of the enemy. But was that so very different than the lives led in the mortal world? I wondered suddenly. Most of us didn’t expect to die the day it happened. From what I remembered, my father didn’t have any warning that his trip down the street to the grocery store would be his last moments on earth.
The sting of salve on my raw palm brought my attention back to the present. I glanced down at my hand, held firmly in Sage’s grip as he examined the healing wound. Without comment, he finished applying the winter-scented salve and wrapped a new bandage around my hand. I relaxed under his sure but gentle touch; letting another healer care for my hands was actually a bit enjoyable after tending myself for a few days. Sage smiled slightly, as though he caught my train of thought. I slid up onto the bed before extending my other hand, leaning back against the headboard and closing my eyes, lulled by the crackling fire and my own weariness. My thoughts drifted. I thought of the Battle of the Royal Wood: the feel of Beryk beneath me as we raced through the forest, a swift shadow among the trees; the Sword’s new power circling behind my breastbone, thrumming through my veins, Gwyneth’s benediction still echoing in my ears. It had been almost easy, that first flood of power, unleashing devastation on the battlefield. I looked back now and realized that what I’d thought was a tremendous battle was truly just a skirmish, nothing more than a lazy flick of the wrist to the dark power that sought to rule the Fae realm.
The flood of power, the piles of ash marking each immolated Dark creature….and then the sight of the fallen Sidhe warriors on their pyre, pale faces carved with the absolute stillness of death, smoke wreathing their lithe lifeless limbs. I remembered the handsome young face of the Guard who had lent me his whetting-stone in the barracks, the night before he died. Then my heart tightened in sudden panic. I couldn’t remember his name. He had been Merrick’s sword-brother, he’d died fighting Malravenar’s forces in the Royal Wood, and I couldn’t remember his name.
“Something wrong?” Sage asked quietly, finishing the bandage on my left hand.
I realized I’d tensed, and I forced myself to take a deep breath, hooking a finger through the familiar circle of Gwyneth’s pendant. “Just thinking. Is there an armorer skilled enough to engrave letters upon a sword?”
“For the best engraving, that would be Conall,” Sage replied. “You’d have to ask the Captain of the Guard to release him to you—he’s been at his forge night and day crafting weapons for the riding-out.”
“I wouldn’t want to bother him, then,” I said.
“What would you like? It might do him some good to have a project requiring some skill to it, especially one requested by the Bearer.” Sage held up several books over at the large table, reading the titles gilded on their spines in shining gold letters.
I cleared my throat. “It’s…well, it’s just that I don’t have a good plain blade anymore. And I know I could have one from the armory that will serve perfectly well…which is what I’ll do if Conall is busy.” I smoothed the soft blanket with my fingertips. “But I realized I’m starting to forget the names of those I know who have fallen in battle. It’s not a long list, so I shouldn’t have trouble…but I want to have their names inscribed on my plain blade.” My cheeks burned in shame at my admission that I couldn’t remember the name of the young Guard. His face rose in my mind’s-eye. I could recall the look on his face as he asked whether I was truly mortal, and his confusion when I joked with him about vampires. The last memory brought a wistful smile to my face.
“I’m sure Conall would be happy to oblige,” Sage replied seriously. He hefted two large leather-bound volumes. “Now. You asked for my research, and here are two of the most useful books I’ve found. As I said before, the selection isn’t nearly what it was in the Great Library at Brightvale, but it will have to do. A History of Native Creatures, by one of our eminent Seelie Historians; and On the Origins of the Worlds, which draws together many shorter texts from both Courts’ Historians.”
“I think I’ve read part of On the Origins of the Worlds,” I said, taking the offered books and settling them in my lap. I thumbed through a few pages of the thicker text, noting with relief that they were written in what the Sidhe termed the Common Tongue. “Yes. When I was at Darkhill, Bren brought me some of these to read.” At Sage’s look of curiosity, I explained, “Bren was—is—studying under the Chief Scholar of Mortal History.”
“You’re certainly full of surprises, Lady Bearer,” Sage said.
“Tess,” I grumbled at him half-heartedly, already absorbed in the prologue of A History of Native Creatures. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Sage watch me for a few moments, but I soon found myself fascinated by the origins and clans of mer-people. Apparently, the sirens I’d encountered in the Darinwel were the most vicious of their kind, and one of only four clans who preferred to hunt two-legged prey. Rather appropriate, I thought in grim amusement.
“Well, I know what to do if I ever want to convince you to stay in bed and rest,” Sage murmured, mostly to himself as he took his seat by the fire again. “Just provide you with a stack of books.”
I smiled and turned the page, eager to learn as much as I could in the time I had left before facing Malravenar.
Chapter 6
I read A History of Native Creatures for the rest of the day. Sage held a conference in a low voice with Calliea when they turned over duties; Calliea brought me a large plate of food and a candle for my bedside table. I ate the food slowly as I reread the passage on dragons, trying to squeeze every ounce of knowledge from the text. Dragons were among the most dangerous of creatures, the book cautioned, in part due to their sheer size, monstrous strength and beastly talons; a dragon egg stood as tall as a man and was hard as granite, laying dormant until the blood of a fresh kill soaked its shell. The book was vague on what exactly was meant by “fresh kill,” so that left it to my imagination…and if the dragon was Malravenar’s creature, I had no doubt the blood would have been from Sidhe or Northfolk. I shuddered.
“You haven’t turned the page for nigh on an hour,” Calliea said from her customary seat by the fire, her blades laid neatly on a cloth for sharpening yet again.
“It’s the part about dragons,” I answered. Calliea’s question broke my concentration and my eyes ached sharply. I blinked and stretched, wincing as my ribs protested, sore from being hit with Vell’s power. “Or rather, the greater dragons.”
“Does it change each time you read it?” Calliea asked with a raised eyebrow.
I snapped the book shut and slid it onto the bedside table. “No. I just wanted to make sure I understood everything. I have some questions.”
“Such as…?”
“I had a pretty nasty encounter with dragon-smoke. I know the effects probably aren’t as severe for Sidhe, but is there a plan to deal with that?” Vell had told me that she had a plan, but I wanted to know what this plan actually involved.
“Yes.”
I waited for Calliea to elaborate, but she merely examined one of her throwing-daggers by the firelight. I frowned. “So what is it?”
She glanced at me and shrugged. “I do not know the details. The vyldretning will reveal all to us when it is time to prepare.”
My frown deepened. “And you are just going to trust that this solution, whatever it is, will protect us all against the dragon-smoke?”
“Yes,” she answered again serenely.
I blinked and opened my mouth to ask another question, but for once my sense of caution stopped me. I trusted Vell and the ulfdrengr with my life. I’d witnessed their marking by the White Wolf, and I’d crowned Vell. If she had told her warriors that there would be a protection against the dragon-smoke, I’d trust her as well…even though I wanted to know the exact mechanism of that protection. I chafed at the mystery of it, but a yawn softened my curiosity.
“Here.” Calliea paused in sharpening her blades to pour me a steaming mug of tea. I accepted it gratefully; the warmth seeped through the mug into my palms, calming the ache of my still-healing wounds. I breathed in the steam from the tea but looked at Calliea questioningly.
“Nothing to make you sleep against your will, or keep you asleep,” she said. “Just to help you slide into slumber. I drink it myself most nights.”
The tea tasted faintly of berries and black licorice. It warmed me deliciously, the heat spreading outward from my stomach to suffuse my limbs. I slid beneath the blanket and leaned back against the headboard of the bed, my eyelids beginning to feel heavy. “Wake me if Vell summons everyone?” I murmured, taking a last sip of the tea.
“I am sure you won’t need me to wake you,” replied Calliea enigmatically, “but I shall.”
“Thanks.” I slid down and burrowed into my pillow, letting the tide of sleep sweep me away. It was a rare dreamless night, and I slept deeply. I awoke to the sound of a hushed conversation by the banked embers of the fire. Glancing over to the fireplace, I glimpsed Farin, aura dimmed as though not to wake me, perched delicately on the back of an empty chair. She was deep in conversation with Sage. The Seelie healer rested his elbows on his knees, regarding the Glasidhe steadily. I strained to hear them, but the few low words I caught were in the melodious Seelie tongue. I sighed. So much for eavesdropping. The Sword pricked me at that thought, affronted that its Bearer would stoop so low. For all your encouragement of a dalliance with Finnead or Luca, you’re really uptight about the stupidest things, I thought at it in irritation. It responded by pacing in circles in my chest, its grumble vibrating through my spine.
I yawned and stretched conspicuously. Sage and Farin paused in their conversation, and Farin’s aura ignited like a struck match. “Tess-mortal!” she trilled.
“Good morning.” I smiled. “It is morning, right?” There, I said to the Sword. Happy?
Sarcasm does not become you, the Sword told me.
You’re just grumpy this morning, I retorted.
Farin sprang into the air and twirled in the air above my bed.
“Interesting conversation?” I asked, smiling up at her.
“Oh, truly,” she said, wings sparking. “There is great news, Tess, great news!”
I sat up against the headboard, pushing my hair out of my face. “The choosing of the vyldgard? Has it started?”
“No, but just as exciting!” She turned a few more dizzying pirouettes.
I blinked. “It’s too early to be doing acrobatics like that.”
Sage chuckled. “You’ll get sick from watching her before she’ll tell you, I think.”
I turned my attention to him. “Well then, why don’t you tell me?” Farin traced figure eights around the ceiling, singing a fierce but melodious song in excitement. I raised my eyebrows. “It had better be something really important.”
“The Glasidhe queen arrived at the Hall in the early hours of the morning,” Sage said.
“What? Lumina is here?” I threw back the covers. “Are all of the Glasidhe here now? Where are they?”
“All of us gathered together again,” sang Farin, turning loops above the fireplace.
“Cousin,” said a new Glasidhe voice reprovingly. “Calm yourself. You do yourself a disservice, acting like a silly little glow.”
I located the source of the familiar voice above the lintel of the door, beside the open Glasidhe door cut into the wood. I couldn’t help the delighted smile that stretched my lips. “Flora!”
The Glasidhe who had taught me how to hold a sword properly and rode in my quiver on our mad gallop to escape Darkhill flew gracefully across the room. Farin turned a few more lazy pirouettes and then drifted down to alight again on the back of the empty chair.
Flora gave a courtly little bow to me. “My lady Bearer.” I could see her mischievous grin even through her brightly pulsing aura. She was dressed for traveling, in elegant yet practical clothes cut skillfully to her small lissome body: a black shirt and fawn-colored trousers complemented by knee-high black boots. She wore a sword on one hip and her quiver on the other—the Glasidhe wore their quivers at their waist so as not to impede their wings.
“Is Forsythe here? How has he healed?” I pulled on my boots and tied back my hair into a simple ponytail. My stomach rumbled and I grabbed one of the slices of bread and cheese from the plate on my bedside table—apparently it was restocked automatically, a policy of which I approved. I made a crude sandwich and took a bite as I slid the strap of the Sword over my head.
“My brother has healed quite well. Lady Lumina herself assisted in his healing, and the new Vaelanbrigh as well,” Flora replied seriously. “He still cannot fly long distances, and he does not like riding, but I think it will be a great advantage to him in battle.”
“Riding? What does he ride?” I asked in interest.
“A hawk,” Flora replied simply. “Quite a beautiful one, from the mews at Darkhill. They hadn’t quite tamed him, which was just as well.” She grinned that predatory grin that I’d missed. Forin and Farin had been good companions during the journey, steadfast and fierce, but Flora held a special place in my affections. She’d been with me before I was the Bearer; I felt a unique connection with those who had become my friend when I was just a mere mortal, brought into the Fae world so that the Vaelanbrigh of the Unseelie Court did not owe me a debt of honor for saving his life. They had known me and offered me their friendship when I was still merely Tess, and I’d never forget it.
“The new Vaelanbrigh has helped us greatly. Queen Lumina held council with Queen Mab shortly after you were anointed Bearer,” Flora continued.
Farin streaked across the ceiling and disappeared. I watched the neon trail of her aura fade, and then my mind caught Flora’s last words.
“What did you say about the new Vaelanbrigh?”
“I said he had helped us greatly.” Flora landed gracefully on my bedside table and faced me gravely. “Forgive me, I thought you had already known, Tess.”
“Known what? Flora, who is the new Vaelanbrigh?” I noticed that Sage had gone still, listening as well, but I didn’t care. It would be common knowledge soon enough.
“Ramel,” Flora replied. “Lord Ramel was chosen to be the new Vaelanbrigh, though he knew that Finnead is not dead. He was bound to Mab almost a full moon since.”
What little food I had in my stomach attempted to crawl back up my throat. I swallowed against the feeling of sickness. A terrible weight of responsibility pressed down on me. “I should never have told him that Finnead was still alive.”
“He would have rather known his shield-brother was still alive and risk Mab’s wrath than mourn him,” Flora replied seriously. “And would you have been able to lie to him, when he saw you in Darkhill?”
“No,” I said. I took a deep breath, trying to convince myself that Flora’s reasoning was logical. A still-frame from the vision of the last Vaelanmavar’s execution, his neck bared beneath Mab’s upraised blade, surfaced in my mind’s-eye, which didn’t help to calm my anxious thoughts.
“There is more,” Flora told me, her beautiful wings flickering idly as she tiptoed along a whorl in the dark wood of the table.
I rubbed my temples with one hand. My palm stung sharply as though reprimanding me. I raised my eyes and met Flora’s patient gaze. “Please, tell me.”
“Queen Mab has called the Court to war,” Flora said in a low voice, her aura burning with intensity. “The crowning of the High Queen awoke her to the necessity of action.”
“From what I gathered from Murtagh, it was all Mab could do to hold her own against Malravenar in Darkhill,” I said. “So how is it that the Court will go to war without Darkhill being lost?”
“We believe she intended to cast a protection much like Titania created around Brightvale,” replied Flora.
“But Brightvale is lost,” I pointed out.
“Not from Titania’s enchantment,” said the Glasidhe warrior.
“It was the power of the Crown of Bones that destroyed Brightvale,” agreed Sage from his chair by the fire.
“Thanks for making me feel so responsible,” I said drily. My hands prickled at the mention of the bright-burning ruby.
“You brought back our Queen,” Sage said, his eyes glinting in the firelight. “That is of greater importance to us than all the treasures of our citadel.”
“Fair enough.” I sighed. The Sword thrummed in its scabbard. I didn’t really know what it was trying to tell me, but that wasn’t unusual. I turned my attention back to Flora. “So what does it really mean, Mab called the Court to war?”
“They are preparing for the battle,” Flora replied gravely. “Soon they will start their journey. Lumina had hoped for exactly this, so we were ready to travel and left the Dark Queen’s palace after the Vaelanseld made the proclamation.”
“What happened to the Vaelanmavar?” I asked suddenly.
“I do not know. But there was a rumor as we left that Queen Mab would use his lifeblood to seal the protection around Darkhill.”
“Make the traitor a martyr,” Sage murmured. He looked at me perceptively. “We heard tales of the Vaelanmavar’s cruel nature, and his treatment of you in particular. Perhaps by sacrificing him to save the citadel, Mab will cast him as a redeemed transgressor, giving his life to preserve Darkhill.”
“How do you know about the Vaelanmavar,” I said, my question more of a statement. Even the formal title tasted sour in my mouth.
“Though the Courts were not aligned, it does not mean we still did not have certain friendships with those we had known before the closing of the Great Gate.” He shrugged. “It seems that will be useful now.”
