Journey into the Void (7 page)

“I understand,” said Shadamehr. “And I am sorry that I did not take on this burden sooner,” he added remorsefully. “I might have spared you this.”

“It was better that I had it,” said Bashae. “If you'd taken it with you, the Vrykyl in the palace would have found it.”

“That is true,” said Shadamehr. “I hadn't thought of that.” He managed a wan smile. “You have done your part, Bashae. Go to your sleep world with the knowledge that you are a true hero.”

“Jessan said that, too,” said Bashae, and his dimming eyes went to his friend. “Tell me again, Jessan.”

“You will be buried in the mound with the Trevinici warriors,” said Jessan, who knelt at his friend's side, held his frail hand in his strong one. “No other pecwae has ever been so honored.”

Bashae gazed at him, never taking his eyes from him.

“Your body will be carried by the bravest warriors in the village in a grand procession,” Jessan continued. “You will be laid to rest in a place of honor beside the knight, Lord Gustav.”

“I like that. No other pecwae…ever so honored. Good-bye, Jessan,” Bashae whispered. “I'm glad you found your name. Defender. I'm sorry I made fun of it. It's not very exciting—not like Ale Guzzler—but it suits you.”

Jessan held his friend's hand tightly. Drawing in a deep breath, he said, “Ever after, when a Trevinici warrior is in need, your spirit will rise to come do battle along with the spirits of the other heroes.”

Bashae smiled. “I hope…I'm not in the way.”

He gave a little sigh. His body stiffened, then relaxed. The hand that Jessan held went limp. The bright life drained from the pecwae's eyes.

Ulaf bent over the pecwae, listened for the beating of the heart, then gently passed his hand over the staring eyes.

“Bashae is gone,” he said quietly.

S
HADAMEHR SLUMPED DOWN IN ONE OF THE CHAIRS, RESTED HIS
head on his arms. He had another farewell to say, this one that would tear out his heart, leaving bleak emptiness, guilt, and bitter regret. Floundering in that dark water, he felt himself caught in a deadly riptide dragging him under. He lacked the energy to fight. It seemed easier simply to give up and let the dark water close over his head.

He stared with envy at Bashae's corpse, at the face smoothed of all pain and worry. Shadamehr longed to find that same blessed peace, but could not afford the luxury. He had made a promise to Alise, a promise to Bashae. He had the Sovereign Stone. The responsibility had been passed to him, and he had to decide what to do with it.

The Council of Dominion Lords had been disbanded by order of the new Regent.

That collection of doddering old fools wouldn't be able to do anything anyway, Shadamehr thought, then reproached himself. He could not very well blame them for not bringing in fresh young blood. He had been offered the chance, and he had carelessly tossed it away.

The Lord of the Void and his armies of fiendish taan were setting up camp outside the city of New Vinnengael. The king was a Vrykyl in a child's body, a Vrykyl who had murdered both the king—a dear friend—and his innocent son in order to steal the throne. Shadamehr knew the truth, but how was he to convince anyone? He was a wanted man, who had dared lay hands on the young king. There was undoubtedly a death
sentence on his head, for the Vrykyl would have sent out the order that he be slain on sight.

And in just a few moments, he would have to bid good-bye to Alise—the woman he'd loved for years, the only woman he could ever love.

“I don't have the strength,” he said despondently. “I can't do it. Bashae…Alise, you put your trust in the wrong person. You've paid for it with your lives. I don't know what to do. I don't know where to go….”

“Shadamehr!”

He reared up his head, opened his eyes. Ulaf stood beside him, shaking his arm.

“I'm sorry to wake you,” he began.

“I wasn't asleep,” said Shadamehr.

“My lord,” said Ulaf, “it's Alise.”

Shadamehr blenched. He had to be strong. He owed her that much. “Is it time?” he asked.

“I think you should come,” Ulaf answered quietly.

Shadamehr pushed himself up from the table. He refused Ulaf's help, made his way on his own. He was growing stronger. The horrors of the Void remained, floating atop the dark water with the rest of the wreckage of his life, but his body's strength was returning. He entered the storage room, noticing, as he did so, that Ulaf hung back.

Making his way among the barrels and crates to where he'd left Alise, he saw a very strange sight.

Alise seemed to have been swallowed by a circus tent.

Spread over her shoulders and torso was a mass of gaily colored cloth decorated with stones and bells. Shadamehr had some vague recollection of having seen this before and then, looking at the Grandmother, he remembered. The Grandmother had removed her bell-ringing, stone-clicking skirt and draped it over Alise's body.

Shadamehr wondered if it was some pecwae ritual for the dead or if the Grandmother had gone mad, her mind overthrown by the death of her grandson. Holding fast to his own sanity with both hands, Shadamehr didn't think he could cope with this.

He could not see Alise's face, which was shrouded with her own shimmering hair. She was no longer in pain. Her body was relaxed, the
limbs still and calm. It seemed that she slumbered, and he was thankful that he would be able to remember her this way.

He knelt down beside her. Lifting her hand, he brought it to his lips. “Farewell, my love—”

The Grandmother reached out, drew Alise's disheveled hair back from her face.

Shadamehr gasped.

Alise's face was smooth, unscarred. At the Grandmother's touch, Alise opened her eyes. Seeing Shadamehr, she smiled drowsily, then closed her eyes and sank back into sleep.

“You did this!” he exclaimed, staring at the Grandmother, whose nut-wrinkled face was suddenly the most beautiful face in all of Loerem.

The Grandmother shook her head and shrugged. “Perhaps I helped. But the gods did the work.” She sighed, then looked up to ask quietly, “Bashae?”

“He has gone, Grandmother. I am so sorry.” Shadamehr exhibited the knapsack. “He gave me the Sovereign Stone. I will see to it that his quest is fulfilled. I made him that promise.”

She nodded and fussed about with the skirt, smoothing the folds, rearranging some of the stones. She was clad only in a chemise that was frayed and worn. The bells of the skirt jingled faintly.

“She will sleep a long time,” said the Grandmother. “When she wakes, she will be good as ever.” She looked back at Shadamehr, bright eyes glittering in the lanternlight. “She loves you very much.”

“And I love her,” said Shadamehr, keeping hold of Alise's hand, as if he would never let go.

The Grandmother held up two clenched fists. “Two lodestones,” she said. “They both have powerful attraction, but put them together and what happens?” The two fists bounced apart. “The gods mean them always to be separate.”

“I've never had much use for the gods,” said Shadamehr. He ran his hand through Alise's sweat-damp curls.

“You should.” The Grandmother grunted. With a deft movement, she plucked the skirt off Alise and slid it back on, dropping it down over her head. She gave a wriggle, and the skirt settled atop her bony hips, fell in folds around her legs, bells clanging wildly. “The gods brought her back.”

“But the gods didn't bring back Bashae,” said Shadamehr. “You asked the gods to heal him, and they refused.”

The Grandmother said nothing. Her hands darted to her face, made a swipe at her eyes.

“Why aren't you angry about that?” Shadamehr demanded. “The gods saved this woman, a stranger to you, and they took Bashae, your grandson. Why don't you rage and shout, scream at them until your voice stuns the heavens?”

“I miss him,” she said simply. Her face told of her grief and anguish, but her voice was calm, almost serene. “I have buried all my children and many of my grandchildren. Bashae was my favorite of them all. He was so young, his life barely started. That was why I asked the gods to bring him back. I even asked them to take me instead. I had thought I was to be the one to die on this journey. Here, in my sleep city. But”—she shrugged, and the bells rang softly—“the gods decided otherwise.

“A newborn baby screams and cries when it comes into this world. It wails on seeing the light. If you gave the babe a choice, he would go back into the warm, safe darkness. Yet, we say that life is a gift.” The Grandmother shook her head. “Perhaps death is a greater gift. Like that baby, we are afraid to leave what we know.”

Shadamehr said nothing, for he did not want to argue with her. In his opinion, the gods—if there were gods—were capricious and callous, acting on whim.

The Grandmother smacked him on the forehead with the palm of her hand.

“What was that for?” Shadamehr asked, startled.

“You are a spoiled child, Baron Shadamehr,” said the Grandmother sternly. “You have been given everything you want, and yet you roll around in the dirt shrieking and wailing and kicking your heels for more. I don't know why the gods put up with you.”

She shoved past him, her stones clicking and bells jangling. Pausing at the door to the storage room, she looked back at him. “They must love you very much.”

Shadamehr had his doubts about that, and, for the moment, he didn't care. The gods loved Alise, as he did, and that was all he needed to know.
He lifted her in his arms, held her close, reveling in the renewed warmth that flowed through her body.

“My lord,” said Ulaf, coming to crouch down beside him. “We must—”

“She's going to live!” said Shadamehr, hugging Alise close.

She murmured in her sleep and nestled near him—an action she would never have taken if she were conscious.

“Thank the gods!” said Ulaf fervently. “But, my lord, we need to think about what is to be done now. If Dagnarus's taan army is not here, they soon will be. We don't want to be caught in a besieged city.” Knowing his lord's unpredictability, Ulaf thought it best to add, “Do we?”

“No, we don't,” said Shadamehr emphatically. His mind was working once again. He felt strong enough to swim, even against that dark tide that had been trying to suck him under. “There's an ork ship waiting for us in the harbor. I sent the elven Dominion Lord and her husband there already. The orks have orders to wait until dawn before they sail. I'll take Alise and the Trevinici and the Grandmother with me on board the ship. Meanwhile you and the others will travel overland, carry messages to the Dominion Lords, tell them what has happened and that we will meet them in the city of Krammes. The Imperial Cavalry School is there. We have the human part of the Sovereign Stone. That must count for something. We can raise an army and return to take back New Vinnengael from the Lord of the Void.”

“You think the city will fall, then?”

“Yes,” said Shadamehr shortly.

“How will I find the Dominion Lords? I know one of them, Lord Randall, but—”

“Rigiswald knows them all. He's in the Temple, reading up on the Sovereign Stone. He's probably still there. You know how he is when he has his nose in a book. Take him with you.”

“Now, really, Shadamehr. I think I'd rather travel with a Vrykyl!” Ulaf protested earnestly. “That old man is the most cantankerous old man who ever lived. He has a tongue that could fell small trees.”

“Then you'll never want for firewood,” said Shadamehr soothingly. “I'm sorry, dear boy, but Rigiswald is the only one who can help you in
this. He knows the Dominion Lords and where they're likely to be found.”

“Very well,” said Ulaf gloomily. “I'll go round up the others. You do remember that there is a curfew, don't you, my lord?”

“That's why the gods invented sewer systems,” said Shadamehr. “That's my travel route. What about you?”

“I'll never get Rigiswald down a sewer, and you know it. There's a gatekeeper who owes me a favor,” Ulaf added with a wink. “Take care of yourself and Alise, my lord. I'll take care of the others, including Rigiswald.”

“Excellent. Now go ask that good woman for some blankets. I'll want to wrap Alise up warmly.” As Shadamehr glanced into the tavern's main room, his expression softened. “You'll need a shroud for the body, too. I am taking them home.”

“Bashae is my responsibility,” Jessan said tersely. “Bashae and the Grandmother.”

Shadamehr and Ulaf exchanged startled glances. Neither of them had heard the warrior come up behind them.

“They could travel with me and the rest of our people, my lord,” Ulaf offered. “My comrades and I are traveling east,” he said to Jessan. “As my lord says, the road may be dangerous. We could use another sword. Will you come?”

Jessan's expression darkened distrustfully.

“I have ample proof of your valor, Jessan,” Ulaf added. “We may be walking straight into the arms of the taan. In that case, I can think of no one else I'd rather have at my side.”

Satisfied, Jessan nodded. “Then I will come with you, if the Grandmother agrees.”

 

Ulaf persuaded the distraught Maudie, who could not look upon Bashae's body without succumbing to tears, to pull herself together and bring him warm blankets in which to wrap Alise.

“I'm worried about what to do with Maudie,” Shadamehr said, accompanying Ulaf to the door. “This city will be besieged or worse in a day or two.”

“She's safer here than she would be anywhere else,” said Ulaf practically.
“Tell her to invite her brawniest customers to help her defend her property.”

“I suppose you're right,” said Shadamehr. “I should be doing something, anything, to help. Instead, I'm running away.”

“You have the Sovereign Stone,” Ulaf reminded him. “You need to think of that. I've told Jessan and the Grandmother to be ready to leave by morning. Farewell, my lord. A good journey to you.”

“And you,” said Shadamehr, shaking his friend's hand. “With luck, the city guards are still preoccupied with the fracas at the Tubby Tabby. You should be able to reach the Temple without being stopped. Give Rigiswald my best when you see him.”

Shadamehr returned to find that the Grandmother had swathed Alise snugly in a blanket, folding it around her and tucking in the ends as a mother swaddles a newborn babe. Alise slept soundly through the entire procedure. The hard time came, the time for farewells.

Jessan knelt beside Bashae, keeping silent vigil over the body of his friend. The Grandmother sat staring into the flames of the fire that danced and rollicked without heed or care.

Shadamehr rested his hand on Jessan's shoulder. The young man rose to his feet, and the two moved away, toward the back of the room.

“Ulaf told me of the battle. He told me that you attacked the Vrykyl at peril of your own life. No one doubts you did everything you could to save your friend. You have nothing to regret.”

“I have nothing to regret,” said Jessan simply. “Bashae died a warrior's death. He will be greatly honored by my people. To blame myself for his death would be to take away his victory. I will miss him,” he added more gently, “for he was my friend, but that is my loss, and I must deal with it.”

“I wish it were that simple,” Shadamehr murmured. He started to bid the young warrior a safe journey, then remembered in time that one did not wish that for a Trevinici.

“May you fight many battles,” said Shadamehr. “And be victorious over your foes.”

“I wish the same for you, my lord,” said Jessan.

Shadamehr winced. “I'm not keen on the fighting part,” he admitted. “But I'll take the victory over the foes portion of that wish.”