Barbara Hambly - 03 The Armies of Daylight

In spite of-or perhaps because of-the unnatural silence of the Keep, Rudy's sleep was fitful, tortured by feverish dreams. He had searched for Gil since the closing of the great gates, but had not glimpsed her among the Guards, and had not liked to reveal himself to anyone by asking. He had an idea that some of them knew that he had not left the Keep-those who had gone up the Pass with the other wizards certainly knew-but he did not know whom he could trust. The sensation of being there and not there was beginning to prey upon his nerves. To walk unseen in the Nest of the Dark was one thing; to walk unseen among people who had been his friends was quite another.

He had returned to his cell in the deserted complex, made his final preparations for tomorrow's departure, and fallen into a restless sleep in which his terrible dream of darkness alternated with the vision of the rain-slashed ruins of Quo, the mewing sea birds, and the possessed Archmage's empty, soulless eyes.

It was from this sleep that he woke in the hour before midnight, to feel the sudden warmth of a woman's body pressed to his, a silken river of unbound hair across his cheek, and warm lips clinging frantically to his. He caught Aide's body in his arms and crushed her to him, half-awake, feeling her sobbing against him in the dark.

"My love, my love, you're all right? Rudy, tell me you're all right. They said you'd gone-all the wizards had gone- that you'd be killed if you stayed. Then they said..."

"I'm fine, babe," he whispered back and pressed his lips to hers to stop the flow of her muffled, half-hysterical words. "Christ, I thought I'd never see you again. I wanted to come to you..."

Her arms clung more fiercely around his neck. "I was so afraid," she moaned.

"Here..." His hands stroked her hair and her shoulders, trying to soothe the violence of her tears. She turned her face against his shoulder; in the darkness, his wizard's sight showed it white, tear-blotched, and thin, as if she had not eaten in days. He clutched her to him again and wondered how he could possibly have thought of going without speaking to her one more time. "Babe, I'm all right," he murmured. "I'm fine, I'm safe. It's you I was worried about. Are you okay?"

She moved back a little from him, her midnight-blue eyes enormous in the gloom of the cell. She nodded, the tendrils of her hair swinging down over her face. Her voice was trembling as she lied, "I'll be all right."

Rudy felt his heart contract in his chest. "Does Eldor-" He broke off, knowing that he had no right to ask it of her. She looked away, and he saw the tears glittering on her face.

Softly, he asked, "Do you want to come with me? To Gettlesand, to the Keeps of Tomec Tirkenson?"

Until he spoke the words, he had not so much as thought of it. But in her silence and the sudden tremor that passed through her body, he could feel the possibilities of that solution. Her lips parted a little, her eyes wide and filled with a sudden flare of desperate hope.

Then she looked away and said in a small, flat voice, "I can't leave my son."

"Bring him, then. I can get both of you away from here under a cloaking-spell. We could go to the Keep at Black Rock..."

"No." The violence in that low-voiced denial told him how fierce was her temptation. Against the dark red velvet of her gown, her face was dead white in the darkness, her hands trembling in his. "If I had our son, do you think he'd ever let us be? He would follow us, Rudy. Then Tirkenson would have to decide which one of us to betray, me or his King. We'd be fugitives wherever we went, Rudy," she whispered. "I wouldn't do that to Tir-or to you."

"Does Eldor care that much for you?" he demanded angrily.

"I don't know!" Her voice cracked over the words. Unbidden, to Rudy's mind rose the grim scene he had witnessed, the grotesque shape of the mutilated King looming in the shadows, looking down at his sleeping son. Was Tir the only one Eldor had looked upon? And was the single incident that Rudy had seen but one of a series of stealthy visits? Did Alde have to lie there, feigning sleep, every night?

In a strangled voice, he said, "You've got to get out of here. Aide. God knows what he's likely to do. I'll go back for Tir..."

"No," she said, soft but unyielding.

"We'll find some place..."

"No," Alde repeated. "It isn't only for Tir." She shivered, and he drew her down to him again, warming her in the circle of his arm.

She went on softly. "Rudy, I may be the only person capable of bringing Eldor back to his senses. I can get through to him somehow-I know I can. I can't leave him."

"He might kill you!"

She was silent, but he felt the shudder that passed through her flesh.

"Do you love him?"

"I don't know," she whispered. "I don't know."

He felt the warmth of her tears through the coarse fabric of his shirt and cradled her head against his shoulder. She sighed, her bones relaxing in his grip, and for a time it was as if she had fallen asleep. He turned his head, and her scented hair tickled his nostrils.

"Aide," he said quietly, "I think I'll always love you. I only want to see you happy." He spoke slowly, the words difficult. "If you ever need me-no matter for what-don't let anything keep you from asking."

He sensed her nod, and her arms tightened about his body.

"Send Gil for me," he went on, though he knew in his heart that, because of his love, she would never call on him for help. "If anyone can find me, she will."

"Gil!" Alde pulled free of his arms and sat up with a gasp.

"What about Gil?"

"Gil sent a message to me." She shook back her rumpled hair with fingers that trembled. "That's why I came here. She-she said you were dying."

"What?" Rudy pushed himself up to a sitting position. " Gil said that?"

"She sent me a note."

"Tonight?"

"Just now. Just..." She fell silent, her eyes staring, huge and frightened, into his. There was the sudden reflection of torchlight under the door, the tramp of boots in the hall.

"Oh, Christ." Rudy made a move to roll off the bed, to do something-anything -when the door was hurled open with a crash, and the glare of torches and the whiter light of glowstones stabbed into the dark heart of the room. Alde stumbled to her feet, her face blanched with terror, and hurried to meet the man who came striding out of that blaze of brightness.

Eldor did not so much as look at her. With terrible strength he hurled her aside, and the Guards who filled the doorway and crowded the hall beyond caught her and held her when she tried to run back to the King.

For a long instant, Rudy and Eldor faced each other in silence. Behind the eye slits of the featureless mask lay nothing but darkness, but Rudy could feel the King's bitter gaze resting on him in smoking hatred. Then Eldor stepped forward and knocked him to the floor with a backhand blow.

Rudy caught himself on one knee and forced himself to stay down in spite of the consuming wave of rage that went through him. It would help neither him nor Alde to return the blow. As he knelt there, his head ringing with the force of it, he looked at the Guards in the doorway and saw that the man who held Alde back, the man who stood foremost of them with a slight, scornful smile on his full lips, was Alwir.

He knew then who had sent Alde the note that had brought her here.

A shadow fell over him, and he looked up into the blackness behind the slits in the mask.

"You love an impatient woman, young man," Eldor said softly. "It would have been better had you waited until I was away from home."

There was a hypnotic quality to that featureless face that dried Rudy's voice in his throat. He stammered, "It's not- not how it looks."

The King laughed bitterly. "Is it ever?"

"Eldor!" Alde pulled desperately at her brother's grip. "It isn't his fault. I came to him. He told me to leave. Eldor, listen to me! I had to speak to him..."