Elizabeth Haydon - Destiny - Child of the Sky

She lay back on the bed slowly, suddenly aware that she was exhausted. “Why would I be offended? He was your grandfather. Besides, if you were Achmed, the analogy would have been far worse. But since I don’t think I can bear the prospect of hearing a mythic character’s sexual discrimination be limited to trees with knotholes of appropriate height, I think I will go to sleep now, if you don’t mind.”

Anborn roared with laughter. “Actually, I think that is a very wise idea. I don’t want to be responsible for disillusioning you utterly. Besides, I think it’s fair to say that you’ve had a rough few days, eh? Rest up, and we will bandage you to travel in the morning. I will look in on your gladiator through the night, and tomorrow we shall get you started on the way back to Oelendra.”

Rhapsody was already asleep. The fire grew throughout the night, gaining strength in the darkness and quiet of the safe, sheltered place.

Stephen reached behind the bottles in the first row of the rack and felt around until he located the reserve brandy.

“Here,” he said, and handed the bottle to Ashe in the dark. “You used to like this one.”

Ashe smiled. “I’ll take your word for it, since I can’t see it.” His dragon sense had already assessed the vintage, as well as all the others in Stephen’s cellar; Stephen had chosen wisely and generously.

“It’s Canderian, of course,” Stephen said, taking the bottle back. “Has a lovely color and a superior bouquet. You’ll appreciate it more in the light by the fire.”

“No,” Ashe said brusquely. His voice was harsher than he meant it to be, and he felt Stephen flinch at the sound of it. “I’m sorry. Let’s just talk here.”

Stephen shrugged. “It’s your birthday. If you want to spend it among the rats of my wine cellar, who am I to object?”

“I’ll feel right at home,” Ashe chuckled. “You know my family.”

Stephen laughed and sat down on a large barrel against the dank wall. He pulled a bottle of lesser-vintage brandy from the forward rack and uncorked it, taking a deep swig.

“I’m afraid I don’t keep the snifters down here. You shall have to drink your celebratory libations straight from the bottle like the barbarian that you are.”

“And I would do so even if you did keep the snifters down here.” Ashe pulled the cork carefully from the bottle, surprised at how the connoisseur’s technique had come back naturally to him after two decades of finding refreshment in forest streams and the rain gutters of backstreets. He passed it under his nose, inhaling the rich bouquet. “Ah, Stephen, you are far too good to me.”

“Truer words were never spake. So, have a drink, and tell me what happened.”

Ashe sat down on the barrel next to Stephen’s. He closed his eyes and rested his head against the wall, reluctantly recalling the gruesome memories that Rhapsody had cast out of his mind. He tried to determine with his inner sense if there was any reason not to trust Stephen with the information; at the back of his mind the dragon’s paranoia whispered repeated cautions. Defiantly he crushed it into silence.

“It was the first night of summer.” Ashe’s voice choked off suddenly as the memories came flooding back. Stephen sat quietly as the silence consumed his friend. When finally the duke spoke there was a joking tone in his voice.

“I remember. I was sitting vigil for the Patriarch, as those of us of the true faith do on firstsummer night. Perhaps now you’ll finally see the error of your ways and convert.”

The joke broke the hold the memories had on Ashe, and he laughed. “All right. I had gone to the House of Remembrance because I overheard my father talking with Oelendra about the F’dor. Somehow they had determined it would be there, and vulnerable, so she was going to destroy it. When she had left the tree palace I confronted Llauron and demanded to go to help her.

“At first he wouldn’t hear of it, but I suppose he finally saw the wisdom in the idea. There was no one else in whom he was willing to confide. He— we have been chasing this thing for as long as I can recall. It has been the consuming goal of his life, and, as a result, mine.”

“I remember,” Stephen said again softly, staring at the wine cellar ceiling. “When I went off to train with Oelendra, Llauron warned me not to agree to become a champion in her cause, because he wanted to direct me himself.”

“My father believes that everyone on Earth’s sole purpose for existence is to serve his needs,” Ashe muttered. “Even when his causes are good ones, it can get tiresome being treated as his tool. The truth is, Stephen, even if he had forbade me I would have gone anyway. You knew me then; I was reckless and stubborn, and had nothing to live for.”

Stephen cast a glance at Ashe. “And do you now?”

Ashe sighed. “I don’t know. I thought I did.” His thoughts went immediately to Rhapsody, and the devastation in her eyes, hidden by a brave front, when he said goodbye to her for the last time.

I am holding the memory for you, Aria. One day it will be ours to share again .

No. It may be mine to keep someday, but it’s time for you to begin making memories with someone else.

Tomorrow. Today I am still here with you.

He closed his eyes and shook the thoughts from his mind. “I don’t remember much after that. I followed Oelendra’s route to the House of Remembrance—she’s virtually impossible to track.” Stephen nodded. “I never found her. When I got to the exterior gate of the House there was no one there; everything was silent as death. It was past midnight, so the solstice had passed. I didn’t realize it at the time, but it meant that the period of the demon’s vulnerability had passed as well.

“I don’t remember meeting the F’dor, or who it was. Everything was dark. I just remember an explosion of dark fire, and the most searing pain I have ever felt, a pain that only death could quench. And then it took a piece of my soul. It reached inside me and spread through me like a vine growing up my spine, until it had clawed through my entire chest cavity, grabbing hold of my very essence.” Even with his eyes closed he could feel Stephen shudder.

“In that moment I remember knowing that death would be preferable to what was about to happen. I could feel its will, and it wanted me, was going to take me as its host. It would devour my soul and become what was left of me. I saw the Void, Stephen, saw it . And somehow I was able to use Kirsdarke to sever the vine, knowing that it would mean leaving a piece of my soul behind in its possession. It was the only thing I could do.”

“Sweet All-God.”

“And that’s all. I don’t remember the rest except for flashes and fragments that come to me in dreams. I vaguely recall crawling through the forest toward Haguefort; it was a conscious choice to seek your aid. I’ve dreamed many times of your face as you bound me with your cloak, though I’m not certain if that’s memory or imagination. So much of that time is just cloudy dreams accentuated by excruciating pain.”

“What happened after I left you to find your father?”

Ashe hesitated. Though his heart told him that Stephen was trustworthy, the dragon began to whisper its doubts to him again, just as it had with Anborn.

“I’m not certain. I was healed enough to go into hiding, though the pain was barely diminished. Pain of the soul surpasses any you can imagine.”

“And are you still in pain?”

Ashe took another swig of the excellent brandy, then rested his arms on his knees. “It’s better now,” he said finally. “But the pain was hardly the worst of it.