Cornerstone (8 page)

Emariya couldn't accept that. To have someone with at least some knowledge of her father—and quite possibly holding a message for her—so close, yet she couldn't reach him was to much for her to endure. In his pain-induced sleep, he was lost to her. Grabbing the mint, she clutched it in her hand. She brought her hands to her lips, and mumbled a brief prayer. “Please give me strength to get through to him, and give him the strength to awaken. Do not let this be a life given in vain. Please.”

Moving without thinking, guided by desperation alone, she touched the mint to her lips, and then to the man’s. Suddenly filled with frustration, she shouted at him, “Awaken!”

Emariya jerked back as a jolt of intense awareness shot directly through her, from her fingers down to her toes. The air crackled, suddenly charged with unnatural energy.

Behind her, Neela and Garith both gasped as the man’s eyes shot open. “Please,” she said, very quietly, “Tell me all you know.” She squeezed the man’s hand gently in encouragement.

“
Milady,” his voice was barely above a whisper. It was clear just how much effort it was taking for him to speak. “Your father…” He stopped again, as if searching for the words.

“
Go on, you can do it. I'm sorry, but you cannot rest yet. I need to know what you've come to tell me.” She hated every bit of what she was putting this man through. Still, she was determined to press on.

“
He went. To Sheas.”

Emariya nodded—everyone had assumed as much when he disappeared. She sorely hoped he had more information than what they had all guessed three years ago. She would never forgive herself for forcing this man to wake and face his pain if nothing were to be gained from it other than his own agony. “Refused him. I smuggled…caught. Prison,” the man shuddered and was still again for a moment.

Emariya could see his lips still moving, searching for what he wanted to say. She tried to remain patient, to let him go at his own pace.

After an eternity, he started to speak again. “Escaped.” His face was strained with effort, as if it were a struggle to form each individual word.

Emariya interrupted, “Wait, who escaped—you or my father?” She leaned closer to the man. His voice was getting even quieter as what little strength he had rapidly faded.

The man patted his hand toward his chest with a jerky motion.

“
You did?” Emariya asked.

The man managed a tiny, weak nod as he swallowed. Thinking he might be parched, Emariya held a bit of water to his lips. It dribbled off his cracked mouth, the tiny droplets catching in his unshaven beard.

“
How long ago was this?” Garith asked from behind Emariya.

The man’s eyes shifted, then blinked as if he were trying to focus. It seemed as if he had forgotten there were other people in the room. Returning his eyes to Emariya, he continued. “Weeks. Maybe months. He talked of you. I…never answered. But he…talked.” His voice was becoming even more ragged now, and Emariya could see that he was fighting to stay conscious. “He is…afraid.” At Emariya's gasp, the man briefly shook his head, and added, “For you. Afraid for you. I ran, but you needed to know. Turned around. Wicked heathens!” he shuddered. “Had. To get. To you. Had to. Tell you.”

By now, his voice was so weak that Emariya was holding her ear near his lips, straining to hear him. She knew he was in pain; frequently the weathered skin near his eyes wrinkled as he grimaced. She was freely crying now. It pained her to know what his determination to reach her had cost him. Perhaps, had he not been trying to get to her, whoever had done this would not have gotten him. Or he could have succumbed to his wounds and his suffering would have ended, but he had managed to get to her on sheer will alone.
Even now, he is in pain for my sake,
she thought. Emariya squeezed his hand. “Thank you. What is your name, sir?”

“
Eshan. Had to. Tell you. Had.”

“
Enough now, you can rest. It's all right, you've told me.” Emariya held her finger to his lips to silence his protests as she sat up beside him. He was shaking his head. She was moved by how much this man had been through, and now she just wanted to see him rest. She looked up at Neela. “Can you give him something for his pain?”

She heard a rasp from the pallet, and looked back down at Eshan. His chest rose once, twice, and then fell still, not to rise again.

Something for his pain would evidently not be needed, after all. But what of hers? With a heavy heart, Emariya stood and walked out of the cottage.

Outside, she sat down against the wood shingles at the base of the wall. She leaned her head down onto her knees and allowed the sobs to break loose. She didn't know how long she sat there, completely spent and hating what she’d done. Her eyes were sore from crying. When she looked up, Garith was sitting beside her. Lost in her own torment, she hadn't even heard him come out.

“
I cannot believe my father has been in prison all this time,” She said, trembling. The sheer weight of the newfound knowledge, bought with the suffering of another, was overwhelming.

“
At least now we know he is alive,” Garith said encouragingly. “We will find a way to get him home.”

“
Do we know who brought him in?”

“
I asked Norval about it earlier while you and Neela were preparing the tea. He said two of your brother’s traders headed to the fjord found him. They said he was lying in the road, as if traveling here.”

“
Are they still here?” She wondered if they might have anything to add to the man's tale.

“
No, they resumed their journey to the fjord. The sooner they get their supplies there, the better. Honestly, they probably wouldn't have stopped to bring him here, had they not known someday that same fate may await them. They can only hope that someone will return the kindness when their time comes.”

Emariya thought about Garith’s words. He was right. She knew they had seen several traders injured of late. Most had been fortunate enough to at least keep their lives. But the men of the fjord, they were depending on more than just the reinforcement of supplies. They needed help, and if they didn't get it, the number of casualties would inevitably rise. She doubted Eshan would be the last death to come up the road from Thandrel's Fjord.

“
Garith, I've got to get my father out of that prison.”

“
Riya, no!” he said forcefully. Standing there, covered in blacksmith soot and obviously weary from a day that had stretched far too long, he looked like a caged animal ready to pounce.

“
No, no. Not like that,” she assured him. “He went to reason with them, and they threw him in a cell to rot. I've no cause to think my going to reason with them would do any good. In the absence of reason, we may need force.” She didn't know if Garith was aware or not, but Eltar didn't posses that level of force. Thalmas, however, did.

CHAPTER EIGHT

Unsuitable

“
How did Reeve take the news?” Neela asked.

Emariya looked up from the sachet she had been filling. She’d spent all morning working alongside Neela in the musty herb room. “As well as can be expected, I suppose. He is furious about Father. I think he was as tempted as I to ride for Sheas at once and demand his release. But we agreed it would be of no use. If they have held him this long, they aren't likely to release him just because we request it. It's all we can manage just to stave them off at the fjord; we need help if we are to secure Father's freedom.”

As soon as she’d returned to Warren’s Rest the night before, she had awoken Reeve. Neither of them liked it, but they needed help if they were to have any chance at getting their father free. They agreed that Reeve would write to Prince Ahlen and announce Emariya's change of heart, while she made preparations to leave for Thalmas at once. Their condition was that if she agreed to wed the prince, he must send not only metals and forces to help defend the fjord, but he must agree to a joint endeavor to negotiate Oren's freedom and to assist in securing that freedom by force, if necessary. In return, they would be sending food, which Thalmas desperately needed, and would commit to frequent shipments of food in the future. Of course, Thalmas was also gaining Emariya herself. She would be the liaison between Thalmas and Eltar. Neither would be ruled by the other, instead they would officially declare themselves allies. Two independent lands aligned in their common interest against Sheas.

“
Perhaps you'd be best to wait until spring. The snows won’t be long coming now,” the wise-woman said, pulling a jar filled with milky white leaves off of the shelf.

“
And if I wait until spring, that is all the longer my father will suffer in that cell. I won't leave him there a moment longer than I must. Besides, by spring, Sheas will surely be venturing forth from the fjord. No, there isn't time to spare.” Her voice was firm, and left no room for argument.

Emariya had no room in her heart for doubt. She'd committed to a course, now she would see it through. The journey she was preparing to make would decide the fate of her people. Regardless of how nervous she was, she could only hope that she had made the right choice. When she set out, she would be the Lady Emariya Warren, daughter of Oren Warren, High Seat of the Great Council. When she arrived and wed, she would be Princess Emariya Ahlen, bride to the heir of the throne of Thalmas. With the hopes of two lands riding with her, there would be no room to take along the scared girl who didn't want to leave her home.

Emariya turned to the woman beside her. “Which herbs should I take?” For years Emariya had watched Neela tend to the sick, the weak, and the injured, absorbing bits of knowledge here and there. Once they departed, she would be on her own to handle any issues that arose.

Neela busied herself with pulling jars down from the heavy wooden shelves. Each one she selected, Emariya placed some of the contents into little linen sachets tied with twine. For a while, they were quiet as they worked. She liked the feeling of the dry leaves in her hands.

Neela looked at her from across the room. “Your grandmother, Irina, was a herb woman, you know.”

“
Really, my father's mother?” Emariya vaguely remembered her father talking about her.

“
Mmhmm, I used to help her sort her herbs when I was a very young girl. It was how I began to learn. Knowledge like that shouldn't be lost to the generations.”

“
I doubt my father had much desire to learn herbs and remedies.” Emariya said.

Neela shook her head. “No. Talents like that tend to sometimes run in families, but that doesn't mean every member of the family will possess it. Irina had the touch of a healer, and the compassion for it, as well. She hoped someday she'd have a girl who maybe would, as well, so that she could pass it along. In the right hands, the herbs of the earth can be very powerful tools. I suppose she had to make do with me.”

Emariya smiled encouragingly. “I am sure she was happy to share it with you.”

“
I never had the natural touch for it like she did; I was simply a girl who was eager to learn.” Neela paused, lost in thought for a moment, and then continued, “She didn't live to see you come into the talent, but I think she'd be pleased that you are learning now. I guess through me, she sorta does get to pass it along to her own blood.”

Emariya teased. “I am just a girl eager to learn. I don't have your touch for it.”

Neela laughed, “No, my dear, but you may have hers.”

Crossing the room, Emariya looked at the herb Neela was very carefully putting into a sachet. “I don't recognize that one. What is it?”

“
Black Hellebore. You must not touch this one, child. It will make you violently ill.” Neela's deep brown eyes bored into hers.

“
I don't think I will have need of that, then.” The idea that plants could harm as well as heal made Emariya uncomfortable. It wasn't that she hadn't known they could, she just couldn't imagine herself utilizing any. Though, before the other night, she wouldn't have believed she would have allowed someone to feel pain she could prevent, either.

“
Take it, just in case. If circumstances grow dire, it may be of use. It causes one to have a violent upset of the stomach, and then to fall into a deep sleep of vivid hallucinations. After a time, one will wake, but should the situation call for it, that might give you time to do whatever it is you need to do. Likewise, should one of your companions ingest something deadly, this may be the only way to save their life, by quickly getting it out of their stomach before they can be taken ill, or worse. In such a case, the images they see would be preferable to the alternative.”

Emariya slipped it into the folds of her skirt with the other sachets, hoping she'd never have to use it.

They finished packaging the herbs for her to take with her in easy companionship.

Occasionally, Emariya asked what one did, or how to administer it, but most were more than familiar to her. She was about to leave, and went to hug the old woman goodbye. Neela slipped a small jar filled with a fine powder into her hand. “Put a pinch of this in your tea every morning. You will need your strength. This will help with that, and will help keep you safe.”