King's Artesan: Artesans of Albia trilogy (Artesans Series Book 3) Read online

  “Ah, now you remember.” The General thrust his face unpleasantly close, and Taran felt spittle as he hissed, “You took something from me, you murdering scum. You destroyed my plans and damn near cost me my life. Do you have any idea what you put me through? Any idea of the chaos you caused? Well, now you’re going to pay. You’re going to tell me what you did with it, and you’re going to help me get it back. If you do, your death will be swift. Refuse and you won’t believe how slow it will be. And in case you think that’s an idle threat, just remember I also have your dark friend here. We’ll see how cooperative you are when it’s his screams you’re hearing.”

  The man holding Taran’s hair let go abruptly. For the second time, Taran’s head fell against the horse’s shoulder and agonizing pain shot up his nose. He cried out.

  He vaguely heard Sonten snap, “Get the others and mount up. I want to be out of here before dark. We’ll make for the forests and find a suitable spot to camp. Make sure none of Rykan’s bloody rabble see you. I’m damned if I’ll be responsible for their retreat now that Pharikian’s annexed Kymer. Let his blasted men deal with Rykan’s body! Now, where’s that idiot messenger boy? Imris? Imris! Dammit, someone go find him. I want him to contact Heron. Well? What are you waiting for?”

  Taran’s horse stumbled into motion and the nightmare began again. The spellsilver sickness returned, but it was nothing compared to the sickness in Taran’s heart. Torture and death awaited him now, and even if he managed to work out what his captor wanted, he doubted Cal would be spared. His Apprentice would die merely for being Taran’s friend, and Taran knew he couldn’t bear it.

  *****

  It was much later in the afternoon when the Major finally woke. Mercifully, she had remained unconscious while Deshan worked on the shattered bones of her wrist. He had done what he could, although the injury would need further attention. The damaged flesh needed time to settle before the more delicate work could begin. He had strapped the arm as firmly as he could without restricting her circulation.

  The burned flesh of her hand had been cleaned, salved, and wrapped, and needed no further treatment for the moment. The wound in her side was long and deep, and had bled freely. It too had been cleaned and stitched, and would be sore and inflexible for days. Her other injuries were relatively minor, and all were now bandaged and clean. Her most serious problem was blood loss, and both Pharikian and Robin had donated some of theirs, while Deshan monitored Sullyan carefully for signs of adverse reaction to unfamiliar blood. The giving of blood was still an uncertain process, both here and in Albia. Physicians still didn’t fully understand why some patients worsened and died when given someone else’s blood. Fortunately, Sullyan showed no such symptoms and now lay conscious, although exhausted, against the pillows of the huge bed. Robin sat by her side, holding her undamaged hand, while Deshan and Pharikian looked on.

  Noting the dullness of her eyes, the Captain felt deeply concerned. She really should be sleeping, but he and Pharikian had questions, and she was aware of their confusion. She could not rest while that confusion remained.

  Robin squeezed her hand gently. “I don’t pretend to understand much of what happened today, love. Can you explain it to me?”

  She gave a weak smile. “I will do my best. What do you want to know?”

  He tried to remember what had occurred in the arena. So much had happened so quickly that he found it hard to order his thoughts.

  “Why did you agree to the spellsilver? When we left that drovers’ hut, you couldn’t possibly have known any of this would happen. Yet you made us bring it, and you had obviously told his Majesty about it before we left the Citadel today.”

  Too weary to hold her smile, Sullyan took a painful breath. “It was a gamble, my love. You are right, I had no foreknowledge that the spellsilver would play a part in Rykan’s defeat. But as I had managed to breach its effects once already, it would have been foolish not to bring it. Do you remember what I said last night on the Tower? That I was trying to remember something? Well, when Timar said ‘a gift freely given,’ I suddenly knew what a potent weapon against Rykan the silver could be. One he would be powerless against even if he managed to win the duel. I realized how I could make use of it, for I suspected he might propose a condition stipulating that I wear it.

  “My only worry was that his second would sense that the collar was Rykan’s. Thankfully, he did not. I knew Rykan would not handle it himself, and as he had no idea I had managed to breach it while in his dungeon, it would give me an edge against him. Perhaps the only means I would have of saving my own life should he defeat me.”

  Her bloodshot gaze turned to the Hierarch. “You knew, of course, that I had no intention of abiding by the terms of the contract. Had I not been able to overpower Rykan’s mind, I would have cast us both into the Void. The only thing that saved my honor was Rykan’s failure to force me to acknowledge defeat before he took hold of the collar. I have Marik to thank for that, for distracting Rykan at the crucial moment.”

  Pharikian inclined his head, his lack of reaction telling Robin that he had known of her willingness to sacrifice herself in order to deny Rykan his victory.

  Robin, though, was still confused. “So why did you insist on the Firefield? What good did that do you?”

  The ghost of a smile crossed Sullyan’s face. “As Rykan did not trust me, my love, so I did not trust him. But I was more concerned about his supporters, many of whom would not have scrupled to shoot me once they realized their lord was defeated. The Firefield guaranteed we would not be disturbed, whatever the outcome of the duel. It left me free to concentrate on absorbing Rykan’s life force. I also gambled on being able to sense it during the duel, even through the spellsilver, and to use this against Rykan. Fortunately, that one paid off too.”

  Robin gave her a grim look. “It seems to me the whole affair was one huge gamble.”

  Again, she smiled. “Oh, my love! Of course it was. I thought you understood that.”

  Pharikian stirred. “It was a gamble that paid off handsomely. Every man, woman, and child in my realm is in your debt, Brynne. We could never—I could never—repay you, or thank you enough.”

  Her voice was a whisper. “Gratitude is neither necessary nor appropriate. It is I who should thank you, for allowing me my vengeance.”

  He moved closer, his expression sorrowful. “But has that vengeance gained you redress, child? From what you said on the field, I fear it has not.”

  Robin felt the blood leave his face as Sullyan closed her eyes. He knew she didn’t want to think about this just yet, but her suspicion that the power she had stolen from Rykan was insufficient to save her life was tearing Robin apart. It would be the ultimate irony should Rykan triumph by default.

  Her eyes opened and she gazed at the Hierarch. “I do not understand it, Timar. I took every last shred of his life force, every particle of his power. That he was a Master-elite is evident, and I can feel the skill and the strength. But the core of his power is missing, as if he had given fully half of it away. This puzzles me, because he was so sure of himself while gloating over me at the palace. How did he think he would overcome my skills, let alone defeat you, while laboring under such a disadvantage? I can think of no reason why his strength should be depleted, but I wish I had known it before. I need not have been so circumspect with my own metaforce on the field of battle.”

  No one had a viable theory, and Robin could see exhaustion overcoming her. He caught Pharikian’s eye. Taking the hint, the Hierarch tried to convince her to rest.

  “Not yet. I must return the donated life force,” she said. “Please understand. Hosting Rykan’s power is taxing what strength I have left. I cannot risk the poison overwhelming me before the life force is returned.” She gazed up at the Hierarch. “I cannot rest until this is done.”

  The Hierarch immediately sent for those who had shared their life force. When they had gathered, Sullyan returned the borrowed power as gently as she had taken it. As she di
d so, Robin sensed an increasing lightness in her soul. Once it was over and the participants had left, he thought she would surely sleep. Yet there was one more task she was desperate to perform, and when she told him, the Hierarch studied her with grave concern.

  “This is really not a good idea, Brynne.”

  Robin agreed. Sullyan shifted restlessly, impatient with their concern.

  “I have no choice, Timar,” she rasped, her urgency plain. “I cannot wait, much as I might wish to. I am too weak now to fight the poison. There is only one part of me left, one tiny, intimate part, still free of infection. If I do not attempt the purging now, if I leave it and try to grow stronger, I fear that this final part will be overwhelmed. If that happens, then I am truly damned. I have no strength to protect myself, and if I slept, not even you could guard that precious portion of my soul. But if you and Robin lend me strength, and Deshan guides me, I can use Rykan’s power to cleanse as much of the poison as I can. The mystery of his missing strength will have to wait. Let us make an end, Timar. Please, I beg of you. I need to do this now.”

  Despite the warning in Deshan’s eyes, and the terror of losing her in Robin’s, Pharikian could not refuse. He nodded, and she sighed in relief.

  The four of them linked psyches, with Pharikian as the driving force, sparing Sullyan any expenditure of power save what she needed for the cleansing. Deshan stood ready to help direct the flow of metaforce to where it would do most good. The Hierarch effortlessly drew Robin’s offered strength into his control, and the Captain sensed his surprise at the younger man’s potential capacity. He pushed away a brief flash of pride and gave himself fully to Sullyan’s needs.

  Gathering herself with an effort, Sullyan began the process. It was slow and painful, as the poison had to be physically burned out of her. Had it not been for Pharikian’s skill and the support of both his and Robin’s powerful life force, she could not have survived. Deshan showed her the vital areas, guiding her to the places that had to be cleansed if she were to live. For Robin, seeing each terrible black mass of poison wither and die before the onslaught of Rykan’s power was immensely gratifying. Through their link, he felt Sullyan welcome even the sharp pain of it, for it was a cleansing pain, a healing pain, and what remained, although empty and raw, would eventually refill with her personal essence.

  After a very long time, during which Pharikian had to bring her back from the brink of unconsciousness more than once and the sound of her agonized gasps caused Robin to break down in tears, Rykan’s power finally gave out. The poison was burned away, the fibers of Sullyan’s being cauterized, leaving her naked and hurting inside. The infection’s inexorable creep had ceased, and her soul no longer felt the weight of imminent death. Only a small area of contamination remained, rooted in the deepest, most inaccessible regions of her soul. It was so strongly bonded to her essence that it would likely prove fatal to remove it, even with the full complement of Rykan’s power. And that, as Robin knew, she did not have.

  Physically and mentally drained, Robin and the two Andaryans held on to each other for support. Robin stared down at the fragile figure in the bed, oblivious now, sunk so far down after her last super human effort that even Pharikian was forced to let go. Wonderingly, he shook his head, unable to believe that so frail a frame had contained such vast, determined energies.

  Her expression was serene, even though her face still bore traces of tears. Her last cry reverberated in Robin’s ears. He had felt her triumph at beating Rykan’s brutal legacy, much more intense even than her satisfaction at striking off his head. She might not be completely clean of him, but at least she was no longer in immediate danger of death.

  All three men were shaking with exhaustion, but full of quiet admiration for what they had achieved. Pharikian passed a hand across his brow. “Oh, her father would have been so proud of her. If only he could have found the will to live. She would have been his strength, and what an invincible team they would have made.”

  Deshan gave a harsh laugh. “You wouldn’t have stood a chance, Timar. No one would.”

  Robin saw Pharikian’s wry answering smile as if through fog. Suddenly, his legs refused to hold him upright and he collapsed. Barely catching him, Pharikian eased him down onto the bed. Robin shuddered violently, and the Hierarch sat beside him, holding him while great, wracking sobs forced their way through his throat. It took some time, but eventually he grew calm.

  The Hierarch gazed at him kindly. “Well done, son. You’ve been through a lot today, more than most considering how deeply you love her. You have helped her win her life back, at least for the time being, and you deserve your rest. No,” he said, holding up a hand when Robin tried to protest, “you’ve done more than enough. There are others quite capable of taking care of things now. Get yourself into that bed and sleep.” Grinning at Robin’s expression, he added, “It’s no use arguing with me, boy. You’re not Master yet, and I could render you senseless with a thought, if I chose.”

  Robin smiled weakly, finally feeling at ease with this most powerful man. “I don’t believe you, sir. I don’t believe you have the strength to snuff a candle right now.”

  The Hierarch chuckled. “Enough of your insolence! But even if you’re right, Deshan here makes a mean sleeping draft. Now, bed.”

  Wisely, Robin chose not to argue. He needed neither sleeping draft nor Pharikian’s assistance to fall almost instantly into a deep, healing sleep.

  Chapter Two

  Slowly and gently, savoring every moment, Sullyan returned to wakefulness, feeling very nearly clean again and so thankful to be alive. Eyes still closed, she indulged in the luxury of spreading her senses throughout her body, delighting in the purity of places so recently occupied by infection. Yes, she hurt, felt ragged and empty, but her natural essence would reassert itself once the hurt had healed.

  Instinctively, she avoided the one area of her soul where infection lingered, not wishing to be reminded that, despite her triumph, Rykan’s legacy still meant that she couldn’t cross the Veils, couldn’t return home. She remained trapped in Andaryon, in an alien environment, and from this she would still die too early. She did not want to think of that. For now, she would just glory in being herself.

  Too languid to open her eyes, she shifted her senses outward, exploring her other hurts. Every muscle ached, every tendon protested after her exhausting fight with Rykan. This was a small price to pay for victory, and one she was used to. The long slash in her side was troublesome. The stitches would pull, she knew, so she spent a few minutes in healing. She was a little surprised to find that the wound was already half-healed, and guessed Deshan must have helped it along.

  Then she steeled herself to examine her wrist and hand, fearing to probe too deeply in case the damage was beyond repair. She could see where Deshan had worked on the small, shattered bones, bonding them together so no splinters remained. The wrist was swollen and extremely painful, but she could see that, given time, the bones would knit and the wrist would work again, possibly as well as before. She expended a little energy to reinforce Deshan’s work, and the fierce pain subsided to a dull throb.

  Her hand was another matter. The inner surfaces of the palm and fingers had escaped with minor burns, for she had reflexively balled her fist when Rykan trapped her in the fire. The back of her hand, though, had burned to the bone, and was a sorry mess. Although clear of infection, the area was raw and weeping and would take days, if not weeks, of Artesan healing before it was useable. It would never be the same. But then, she reflected, she wasn’t the same since Rykan’s abuse, so she could accept that. She did what she could for the moment to speed healing, then allowed her senses to roam the familiar room.

  She had yet to open her eyes or move, so the person she could sense sitting beside her bed had no idea she was awake. Sullyan smiled to herself before opening her eyes, and had to swallow round a dry throat to speak.

  “Rienne?”

  The healer was lost in a reverie of some kind. Sull
yan’s voice, soft though it was, startled her. “Brynne!” she exclaimed, raising clouded eyes. “Oh, it’s good to see you awake. How are you feeling?”

  A tiny frown creased Sullyan’s brows. There was deep unhappiness in her healer friend. She studied Rienne’s face, seeing the anxious eyes, the capable hands clutched in her lap. Rienne was pale, there were dark rings under her eyes, and her long, dark hair had not been braided with the usual neatness, but then she had spent days out in the cold, with minimal rations and worry to contend with. It was not so surprising.

  “Apart from the obvious, I am well. I am very pleased to see you, too.”

  Rienne unconsciously twisted her hands. “I hope you’re not still angry with us. Bull told us what you said to him, but we just had to come. We were all so worried about you and we couldn’t just sit around doing nothing while you risked your life against Rykan.”

  Sullyan watched her carefully. She could sense quite clearly that Rienne was attempting to hide something. “I am not angry with you, Rienne, not now. But you took a huge risk in coming here, and Bulldog went against my express command in bringing you. He should have known better, and he knows what to expect for disobedience. Where is he, by the way? And Robin?”

  The high color that flushed Rienne’s face and the way she cast down her eyes told Sullyan something was very wrong. “What is it, Rienne?”

  The healer turned her head away, hands still twisting nervously.

  “Rienne!” snapped Sullyan, fear making her sharp. The healer’s head jerked back and Sullyan saw tears glittering in her eyes.

  “The Hierarch made me promise not to tell you,” she said, “not before he had seen you. But I knew I couldn’t keep it from you. I told him you would sense it.”