Frost (29 page)

“Cheer up, Elder. Some of the women are already hard at work solving that problem. I've been helping them out wherever I can, myself."

Hafid grinned broadly from the doorway, in obvious good spirits despite the sling on his arm. Frost launched a chunk of meat at his nose.

“This woman might take offense at such quaint humor,” she said, matching his grin.

“No offense meant, milady.” He made a deep bow. “You've already proved
your
skill with a sword. Now our females have a chance to prove theirs with a not altogether dissimilar weapon. If you'd care to learn its use, I'd be pleased to teach you."

She mocked his bow with one of her own. “I prefer a longer blade with a hard, sharp point."

“As do all women who speak truthfully."

He barely ducked another chunk of meat, and they laughed together. It was good to hear laughter.

With Indrasad in ruins, Hafid called Erebus home now. He poured himself wine and grabbed some cheese, hauled up a stool to sit on. For the better part of the day the three of them talked.

Aecus, of course, was dead, and Minos lay near death from a wound received in the earliest part of the final attack. Though the wound had been cauterized against infections and treated with various remedies, his life remained uncertain.

Of the Nine Cities, two had been utterly destroyed.

Slowly, the setting sun stained the sky indigo and crimson. Though she enjoyed the company of her friends, her thoughts wandered more and more to Kregan.
Where was he?
Servants had come and gone all day, smiling, wishing her well, showing courtesy and respect.

Yet, Kregan had not come.

When a woman came to refill the wine jugs. Frost caught her arm.

“If you can find Kregan, tell him I want to see his worthless hide on my threshold before the sun is gone, and if he's late Rhadamanthus will hear the tale of how he spent his last night in Zondu."

The serving woman gave her a look of distress and nearly spilled her tray. The elder motioned her quickly out of the room and closed the door.

Frost rose carefully, trying to read the old man's eyes. He turned them to the floor. Hafid became suddenly interested in something beyond the window.

“Has Kregan been hurt?"

No answer.

The table shook under her pounding fist. A bottle overturned. Its crash echoed in the room's silence.

“Tell me!"

The Chondites regarded each other gravely. Then, Rhadamanthus sighed. “Perhaps, it's best to show her.” A stricken look flashed on Hafid's face, but the old man could not be dissuaded.

He led the way down a series of corridors and too many flights of stairs to count. The lighted passages were soon left behind; they made their way by the light of a single sconce. Ever downward went the course. The floor turned cold, damp beneath her bare feet. The heavier footsteps of her companions reverberated ominously in the narrow halls. The harsh rasp of her breathing made the only other sound.

She was sure they had gone far underground, deeper in the city's bowels than Kregan had ever taken her.

They stopped before a huge door of polished bronze. It was adorned with a heavy ring and the mark of the Black Arrow. Passing the sconce to Hafid the elder seized the ring with both hands and strained.

The door creaked open.

As they entered, an apprentice bowed wordlessly and left the chamber. It was ablaze with candles, lamps, and braziers. Clouds of incense floated in the air. Ritual symbols and bizarre geometrical patterns decorated the floor, ceiling and three walls. But on the east wall, in the center of a white triangle, hung an immense horn bow and a quiver of ebon arrows.

She turned, taking it all in, and caught her breath.

Kregan's body reposed on an elaborate stone altar at the room's far end. A soft blue cloth stretched over the top of the altar, and a robe of the same material covered him from the chest down. The fingers of one hand curled loosely around a shaft like the ones in the quiver.

She crept closer, fighting the emotions that swelled within her.

“You must not touch him,” Rhadamanthus warned. “It would be disrespectful."

His skin was ashen, and his lips had lost all color. An ugly bruise marred the Chondite's brow.

She couldn't hold back the tear that trickled on her cheek. Hafid slid an arm around her, offering support, but she shied away.

“How?” she cried suddenly. “Except for a few cuts he was perfectly well when I summoned the vortex!"

The old man shook his head sadly. “He was standing when the terrible winds began. I was awake by then, but too weak to move, and I watched helplessly as he was lifted by the maelstrom's raging and slammed against a monolith. You see the bruise where he struck his head."

It didn't seem possible he was dead. They had survived too much, vanquished too many foes to be parted this way.

Hafid took a firm grip on her arm, pulled her away. “He would have called it a fair trade. His life for his world. He wouldn't want you to grieve. Come away, now."

“Not yet."

His grip tightened. “Please."

“Let go!” She knocked his hand away, stepped closer to the altar.

“Stop!"

Ignoring them, she bent over Kregan and planted a gentle, farewell kiss on his lips.

And froze.

What trick was this? There was warmth in those lips, and the nostrils flared ever so slightly. She touched his face. It wasn't cold at all!

“What in the Nine Hells?” she cried. “He's alive!"

Rhadamanthus seized her shoulders and pulled her back. His eyes burned into her. “I asked you not to touch him."

“But you told me he was dead!"

“No, he didn't,” Hafid answered. “You assumed it. But the truth is—until four days ago, he was dead."

Confusion, anger flushed her cheeks.

“It's difficult to explain.” Rhadamanthus folded his hands, rested his forehead on his fingertips before speaking again. “You're not versed in Chondite ways. Kregan died at Demonium. But for a master sorcerer, a
Krilar
, death is something to experience and conquer. It is the final test of our art."

“A test very few of us pass,” Hafid added.

The old man looked away. “Almost none. Eleven masters died fighting Zarad-Krul. Only Kregan has crossed back over the dreadful boundary that separates life from death and returned to us.” He faced her again, and his voice choked with sudden emotion. “For three days and nights he lay cold, unmoving. But, he was always my most apt pupil; I prayed he would succeed where so many others failed, and on the morning of the fourth day breath returned to his body and warmth to his limbs. He had wrestled with death and won."

“Then, why don't you move him out of this dark hole to a place where he can be cared for properly?"

“No.” A strange light lit up his face. “He has seen the unnamable things that crawl in the Hells, and the sight has numbed his soul. Anywhere else he would be easy prey for any demon or malevolent spirit to possess; only here in this sacred chamber among the trappings of his brotherhood can he remain safe."

“How long will he stay like this?"

The elder shrugged. “We never know. He may awaken in an hour or a day, a week. Maybe not for years. That's happened before."

Hafid leaned close. “And when he does awake our work will begin. At first, he'll have no memory. We'll have to teach him and retrain him."

“But he'll learn quickly, and this time he will do more than just absorb our teachings.” Rhadamanthus turned a fatherly gaze on his still pupil. “This time Kregan will know intuitively the truths that bind the universe together. And that will give him power like never before."

“The power of an elder,” Hafid said. “He'll establish his own brotherhood."

She repeated that slowly, letting its meaning sink in. She faced Rhadamanthus, then, and a tingle ran up her spine. “You've died and returned to life."

“A number of times.” The old man regarded her evenly. “But each time is harder than the last. No man can cheat death forever."

Her voice quivered. “How old are you?"

“Do you know the story of Tordesh and the building of the causeway?"

She nodded.

He indicated the bow and quiver on the east wall. “I killed his horse with that weapon and shamed him back to Zondu. That was in my first incarnation."

She had lots of questions, but he would speak no more of the past. “You still haven't explained why you wanted me to think Kregan was dead."

The elder frowned, rubbed his temple. “If I wanted that I would have told you his body was lost on the field and never brought you down here. But because I knew you cared for him I wanted to give you a last chance to see him before you left."

“But I'm not leaving."

“I'm afraid you must.” He wore a sad, but unyielding face. “If you have any love for Kregan or friendship for me, then you must leave Chondos."

Suspicion, resentment flared. She clenched her fists stubbornly. “Why do you want to get rid of me now?"

Her quick temper triggered all her senses. Hafid made a furtive movement behind her, the faint rustle of his garments betraying his position. One hand felt for the sword she wasn't wearing. Curse her for not dressing when she had the chance.

“I can't explain everything,” the old man said with genuine anguish. “But you
can't
stay.” His cheeks went scarlet with embarrassment. “Forgive us, but you haven't any choice."

She glared. “What if I refuse?"

Hafid caught her arm, a grip that meant business.

All her anger and frustration exploded. Her eyes narrowed, lips curled in a feral expression. Child's play to break Hafid's grasp. Seizing his injured arm she flung him against the wall. Her open hand cracked twice on his face. That wasn't enough to satisfy her. Dazed, he tried to back away; she kicked him in the stomach, ripping right through the light gown she wore. As he fell forward her knuckles beat his head, and when he didn't move she kicked him twice more for good measure.

He hadn't had a chance to even groan.

She spun on Rhadamanthus, trembling with unabated fury. “Now,” she hissed through a tight throat, “Now I'll go—before I forget just how old you are!"

Solemnly, he led her from the chamber, directing the apprentice who waited just beyond the great bronze portal to see to Hafid.

When they were back in her room, Rhadamanthus was conciliatory. “You needn't leave right away. In the morning I'll have provisions prepared, and Ashur will be waiting. Fresh garments are in that chest by the bed, and your weapons, too."

He paused, forlorn. “You didn't have to beat him,” meaning Hafid. “His arm was in a sling."

“So was my heart."

He departed sadly. She kicked the door shut behind him and paced the floor until the last vestiges of her anger faded, leaving only the hurt.

She didn't want to leave Kregan. What she felt for the Chondite wasn't love, exactly. But it could be someday. She was sure he loved her.

What was the reason for Rhadamanthus' sudden inhospitality? He was right about one thing; she shouldn't have beaten poor Hafid.

She collapsed on the bed, utterly confused. Sleep stole upon her, bringing the old dreams of her family and new nightmares of the war. She tossed and turned, scattering the covers. She relived it all. Every moment, every bloody death.

Then, she screamed. Wide awake and shivering, she sat up, stared into the darkness beyond the window to a night speckled with stars.

When Rhadamanthus knocked the next morning he found her dressed, armed, ready to leave. She refused breakfast. If provisions were adequate she might eat something along the way.

“You're not angry anymore,” the elder observed. “You have every right to be."

“I had a dream last night,” she confessed. “More than a dream, really—a revelation.” She hesitated, gathering strength to say the words. “I killed Kregan, didn't I?"

He eyed her closely, and finally nodded. “You would not have learned that from any Chondite. It wasn't your fault. Kregan knew better than to try to interfere while you were waging mystic combat with strange and untested powers."

She bit her lip, hoping that pain would hide the deeper grief she felt. “He was concerned for me. I saw that in his mind, but I pushed him away. Only not with my hands. The magic did it. It hurled him headlong into that monolith. I wasn't aware; I didn't give him another thought."

Rhadamanthus didn't answer.

“That's why you want me to leave. Because I killed him."

“If you are responsible for his death, then you are also responsible for his elevation. No, child. You're not condemned for that. But Kregan knew better than to interfere, and he did so anyway. He loves you. That's why you have to go."

A glimmer of understanding came, yet she kept silent.

“With Aecus dead and Minos' life uncertain, Chondos will need a new elder to continue the teachings."

She interrupted. “Can't they also return to life?"

“Aecus has no body to come back to, and Minos is a doubtful case; his last incarnation was especially difficult. In fact, I don't believe either of us will achieve another incarnation. And without elders to continue the brotherhoods our way of life will be lost."

“But how does my staying threaten your ways?"

“Like Aecus and Minos, I fear my time will soon be up. I don't fear death so long as Kregan lives to carry on. Yet, he loves you. That's why he tried to prevent your duel with the Dark Ones. Child, love is something a sorcerer can ill afford, and a Chondite elder can't afford it at all. It distorted his judgment once. I can't let it interfere with his duties to his people."

She regarded him blank-eyed, not quite convinced.

“The real problem,” he continued, “is that you're just not the kind of woman to be content with household chores and children. Something pulls your spirit, calls you to wander. You've just tasted adventure, and I can see in your eyes that you like it. Sooner or later, you would leave, and Kregan would follow without a thought for Chondos.” He drew a deep breath and met her gaze with complete calm. “I can't allow that. So you must leave before his memories awaken."