Artesans of Albia: 02 - King's Champion (4 page)

Rienne’s eyes filled with tears. Trying to keep her voice level, she said, “I heard her once or twice.”

Marik nodded. “That’s how she knew someone would eventually come. She was sure she’d managed to reach one of you, though how she got round the spellsilver, I’ll never know. She told me she’d used her pain and panic to lend her strength, but she was afraid that whoever she’d reached would just assume they were having nightmares.”

Rienne inhaled sharply. That was exactly what she had thought.

“That’s why she made me promise to free her horse.” Marik shook his head. “She said it would find its own way back, but I just thought she was raving. I was glad to do it, though. Rykan was taking his anger out on it. He was as determined to break the horse as he was Sullyan.” He turned to Rienne. “Was she right? Did it get back by itself?”

Rienne nodded. “Robin said it was badly injured. I don’t know if it survived.”

He sighed. “Don’t tell her that, if she asks. She was more concerned for the horse’s welfare than her own.”

Rienne’s heart suddenly faltered and she bowed her head. She only just heard the Count’s soft murmur.

“Is there any one of you who isn’t in love with her?” She raised her head in surprise, but when she saw the look on his face, she smiled. “Ah, you too?”

He paled visibly, and she laid a soothing hand on his arm. “It’s alright. Bull says she has that effect on most people. He says it’s her generous spirit. Most of the men in her company are in love with her one way or another, so I’ve heard, and I suppose it’s no surprise. How many people with that much power can be as selfless as she is? Bull says she’d give everything she had to any one of her command, even the rawest of new cadets, just because he was her responsibility. As long as they’re loyal, he says, she’ll forgive them anything. So, Count, how much more readily would she forgive her friends?”

Marik stared at her. “But am I still her friend?”

She stood, smiling down at him. “You’re here, aren’t you?”

He rose and walked out of the barn. Rienne followed him back to the hut and gazed round at the sleeping bodies. She stepped over to the bed, relieved to see that Sullyan’s breathing seemed stronger and her face had a little color in it under the bruises.

Marik touched her shoulder. “Get some sleep. I’ll watch.”

She smiled gratefully. “Thanks. If there’s any change in her, anything at all, wake me or Bull. Leave Robin to sleep. He’s completely exhausted.”

Marik nodded and turned to settle on a stool. Rienne lay down next to Cal, who didn’t even stir when she snuggled under the blanket and wrapped her arms around him.

* * * * *

T
he sound of movement roused Rienne and she reluctantly opened her eyes. When her bleary sight cleared, she realized it was evening again. The windows were darkening, but someone had stoked the fire. Its heat and flickering light filled the hut.

Beside her, Cal was still soundly asleep. She frowned. He wasn’t the reason she had woken. She raised her head and glanced around. The dark mound that was Taran lay still, his breathing deep and regular. It wasn’t until she turned toward the fire that she saw what had roused her. Count Marik’s hand was on Bull’s shoulder and the big man had just woken. Rienne saw him frown and glance up. Marik made a gesture, and Rienne followed the line of his fingers. She gasped. Sullyan’s eyes were open and her pupils were enormous, like two black holes in her ashen face.

Rienne shivered. The whites and irises of Sullyan’s beautiful eyes had disappeared entirely, swallowed by the vast pupils. Her face had taken on an alien cast, and with a sinking sense of shock, Rienne recalled Marik’s comments about her sanity. Watching her, it was impossible to tell if Sullyan’s eyes were focused, where her gaze lay, or if she saw anything at all. She made no movement, and Robin still slept deeply in the same position behind her.

Rienne kept completely still as Bull sat up, slowly raising his head to a level with Sullyan’s. She could hear the Major’s breathing and knew she wasn’t asleep. Tentatively, almost fearfully, the big man reached forward, one finger brushing Sullyan’s cheek.

“Sully?”

Rienne held her breath, barely noticing as Marik withdrew to one of the stools by the table. Sullyan’s eyes, those deep, ebony pools, contracted very slightly, showing some of the dark gold iris. She was trying to focus on Bull’s face, and her fine brows knit in concentration. Then she gave a tiny gasp.

“Bulldog?”

It was the hoarsest of whispers, but it made Rienne smile with relief. Bull’s pent up breath released audibly as he said, “I’m here, love, it’s alright. You’re safe now.”

Sullyan seemed to struggle with consciousness, and Rienne thought she might slip away again. Then she stirred, one small hand creeping out from the blankets, seeking Bull. At once, the big man grasped it, and Rienne saw the stark white of the bandage standing out against Sullyan’s bruised skin. Her eyes were more normal now and she was focusing on Bull’s face. She took a breath, almost a sob, and her voice was husky.

“I am so very thirsty, Hal. Is there any fellan?”

This simple question seemed to completely overwhelm Bull. He bowed his head over her hand, and Rienne watched his shoulders shake with muffled sobs. Sullyan’s hand tightened briefly on his and he pulled himself together with a visible effort. Sullyan smiled at him, although Rienne could tell that it hurt her. When she spoke again, Rienne had to strain to hear her words.

“Hold me, Hal.”

There was such need, such desperation in her voice that Rienne felt her heart clench. There was an answering catch in Bull’s breath, and Rienne felt like an intruder, watching such an intimate reunion. Neither of them had noticed her, and she didn’t want to disturb them. Clearly, Sullyan was recovering. That was Rienne’s main concern.

Gently moving Robin’s arm without waking him, Bull stood and bent to gather Sullyan up. He hesitated, probably remembering her injuries. “I don’t want to hurt you, love.”

As the Major looked up at him, Rienne saw her naked, damaged soul plain in her eyes. “You could never hurt me,” she whispered, and the depth of love and trust in her tone ripped at Rienne’s heart.

Bull put his strong arms around her. She hadn’t weighed much before, but her days of deprivation had so reduced her that Rienne doubted she was a burden to Bull. He moved back to the fire and lowered himself down, cradling Sullyan in his lap. As he did so, Rienne felt a faint brush of cold air and turned toward the door. The Count’s stool was vacant. He had taken himself off again.

When Rienne turned back to the pair by the fire, Sullyan’s head rested on Bull’s chest while he gently stroked her hair. Rienne thought she knew what was coming, and it only took a few moments. Sullyan’s whole body began to shudder violently as she gave way to her terror, shock, and pain. Bull sat silently, letting the storm of grief run its course, and Rienne was glad. This release was essential. It was the first step toward recovery.

Soon—sooner than Rienne would have thought—she heard Sullyan give a vast, shuddering sigh. Bull raised her chin with a tender hand.

“Better, love?”

She gave a wan smile and swallowed awkwardly. “I could really use that fellan.”

Her voice was a rasp, and Rienne grieved for her lilting tones. Bull said, “Then you shall have it,” and reached toward the kettle Taran had left hanging over the fire. Rienne was about to rise, thinking he might need help, but it soon became apparent that Bull had done this before. Using his free hand, he made a pot of steaming brew. He put a little honey in Sullyan’s mug, even though Rienne knew she normally took her fellan strong and bitter. Bull was right, though, and Rienne approved. Sullyan’s body would need the energy. The Major made no comment.

Bull passed her the mug, but when she brought her hands up for it, they were so weak and shaking so badly that she just couldn’t hold it.

“I am sorry, Hal,” she whispered.

He frowned. “You’ve nothing to be sorry for, dear heart. We’ve been here before. We know how to do this. Remember that time in Rothrick when you took that slash that became infected? You were ill with wound fever for days, despite your powers. I did everything for you then, and a lot worse tasks than holding a cup for you!”

Rienne saw Sullyan’s gentle smile, and her heart lurched. There was clearly a deep bond of love between these two, even deeper, she thought, than the one Sullyan shared with Robin.

Still unnoticed, Rienne watched while Sullyan drank three mugs of fellan. She would have preferred the Major to have taken water, but was happy for the moment to allow Sullyan her preference. It wouldn’t hurt, and she could have water later. Once the fellan was gone, the Major and Bull sat together staring into the fire. Rienne thought Sullyan had fallen asleep again, but then she stirred. “Where are we, Bull? Is Robin here? Is Marik safe?”

In a low voice, so as not to disturb the others, Bull told her the story of her rescue. She listened in silence until he had finished. Then she drew a shaky breath.

“Did Rykan”—she stumbled over the name—“issue his challenge to the Hierarch?”

Rienne gave a small start and Bull frowned. “You don’t have to worry about any of that now.”

Desperation was plain in Sullyan’s scratchy voice. “I have to know, it is important. Has he challenged the Hierarch or not?”

“We believe so,” said Bull. “Marik says he did.”

Rienne saw some of the tension leave the Major’s body. “Good. One more thing, Bull, and then I must sleep. I asked Marik to free Mandias for me. Did he do it? Did he get home safely?”

Rienne held her breath, willing Bull not to mention how injured the horse was, but she needn’t have worried. There was such a plaintive note to Sullyan’s voice that she knew Bull would have lied to her even if the horse hadn’t made it. As it was, he told the simple truth.

“Yes, he did as you asked. Mandias made it home, and that’s what brought us all running—as you knew it would!”

Sullyan’s relief was plain, and Rienne had a fleeting vision of them all dashing to her rescue. Had it come from Bull’s mind, or Sullyan’s? She didn’t know, but wherever it came from, it distracted Sullyan from asking after the horse’s condition. Sighing, the Major settled back into Bull’s arms. He sat unmoving while she fell asleep.

* * * * *

S
creaming—harsh, ragged screaming—ripped through Rienne’s mind, jolting her awake. There was movement all around her, men scrambling to their feet, drawing swords and swearing. She staggered upright and grabbed Cal’s arm. Taran bumped into her from behind. The fire was low. It was night outside, shadows dancing frantically over the walls. A sharp gasp caught Rienne’s attention. Robin was kneeling by Bull’s side, staring at Sullyan. The Major’s body was shuddering violently. Rienne rushed over.

“What on earth’s the matter?”

Robin didn’t reply. He was stunned by the appearance of Sullyan’s eyes, which were open but unseeing, once more huge and black. The sub-vocal screaming went on, forcing Rienne to cover her ears.

The Major was convulsing, and no amount of calling her name had any effect. Robin took her shoulders, shook her gently, and stroked her face, but there was no response. Rienne felt him probing for her psyche, hoping to calm her as he had done before, but the terrible screaming went on. Frustrated by this second failure, the Captain exchanged a despairing glance with Bull.

“She was alright when she woke a few hours ago,” the big man said. “She drank some fellan ....”

Robin glared at him. “She was awake? Why didn’t you tell me?”

Bull was about to reply when the door burst open. Marik ran in, staring wildly at Sullyan’s writhing form. “Dear gods,” he breathed. “Not again.”

“What do you mean?” said Rienne. “Has this happened before?”

The Count crossed the room and looked down at the Major, pity and fear in his eyes. “Yes, she had two attacks like this that I know of after Rykan started ... abusing her.” He looked round at them. “Can’t any of you reach her?”

Robin refused to meet his gaze. “No. She won’t hear us.”

Marik glanced at Rienne then shuffled his feet, looking uncomfortable. “Would you ... I mean ... shall I try?”

He was clearly expecting a refusal, and Robin didn’t disappoint him. “What on earth makes you think you can help her when we can’t?”

His rough tone lashed at Marik and the Count’s shoulders slumped. He turned away. Rienne laid a hand on Robin’s arm. “Count,” she said, “were you able to help her before?”

Marik turned back, eyes moist with unshed tears. “I had to try. There was no one else. She did seem to respond ....”

Rienne turned to Robin. “Then you have no choice. What harm can it do to let him try?” Seeing the young Captain’s anguish, she squeezed his arm, trying to show her understanding. “She’s not hearing any of us, Robin. Don’t deny her this chance of comfort.”

Robin’s anger faded and he stepped slowly back. The Count came forward, holding out his arms. Bull lifted Sullyan to him and stood, stretching stiffly.

Marik sat on the bed, cradling Sullyan in his arms. With a hand to her cheek, he turned her unseeing gaze to his. He stared into her eyes, his own alien pupils wide, and Rienne vaguely sensed him trying to link with her psyche. Softly, he began crooning in a tongue she didn’t understand.

For a long while nothing changed, and the sharp, splintering scream continued to ring in Rienne’s mind. Gradually, Marik’s murmuring voice grew louder, and she realized the screams were abating. They finally ceased, and Rienne gave a sigh. Marik’s soothing voice continued as he removed his hand from Sullyan’s face. He held her close, rocking her like a child. Her shuddering slowly diminished until she was still again. Her eyes remained open and huge, unfocused. She seemed completely unaware.

Marik ceased murmuring and looked into her face. Satisfied by what he saw, he beckoned to Robin and the young Captain came forward.

“Take her,” whispered Marik. “It would be better if she sees you when she wakes rather than me.”

Rienne wondered if anyone else had caught his note of wistfulness.