The Royals

Chapter 26

Lyda had lived in mountains all her life, but she'd never seen anything like the high plateau where she now stood Peaks rose in the far distance on either side. In between the air was thin and the vegetation sparse.

She should have been happy to be so close to the Sacred Sisters. Instead despair weighed her down. She missed the Jush greenery of her home moutains. She dreaded what she must ultimately face at the end of this seemingly luckless journey.

Here was not harsh beauty. It was desolation and want laid bare. This was not a mission of healing. It was a voyage through pain which led to agony.

And Ceeley… What could she do for the girl? As the child's night-time mumblings grew more fierce, Lyda's resolve to struggle toward an unnamed goal weakened. Something ate at the girl, something beyond the gruesome destruction of all her kinfolk, something beyond Lyda's ability to cure. Ceeley needed comfort and tranquillity, not further hardship.

And now this summons to leave the others behind. Lyda had hugged Ceeley and Willam as if she might never see them again. She berated herself for alarming them, but was powerless to squelch her own rising panic.

It seemed the elves had taught her to be at peace with herself and now they would do the opposite. Even their opening words, spoken in soothing tones, chilled her soul.

'We have brought you here to show you a terrible thing.'

Her heart pounded in her ears. 'And what must I do about this terrible thing?'

'You will know once you have seen it."

The elf was gone, replaced by images too dreadful to remember in their entirety. Before this moment, Lyda had seen only the aftermath of Alvaria's devastation. She had aided the refugees who lived to flee, rather than stood by helplessly watching the ill-fated casualties.

Here were men, women, children, all re-formed and molded into something so much larger but so much less than themselves. Giant monsters emerged from the essence of living breathing flesh. Their will was that of the elfwitch; their minds were lost in alchemy. They came from all races and towns, suffering the one constant. Their new shape was born in misery and maintained through suffering.

Lyda couldn't keep the particulars in her mind. It was not important to remember which individual had been twisted to which troll. Rather, she understood that it was critical to return them to their rightful form if she could, but she must release them from the elfwitch at all costs.

She was alone when the vision ended.

Lyda went down from her barren place of solitude.

Willam and Celia looked up from their game, their faces anxious. Ceeley rose first and ran to meet her with arms outstretched. 'Mama-Lyda, Mama-Lyda. You're safe!'

Lyda smoothed the child's curls while smiling over her head at Willam. 'Yes, I'm safe.' And very lucky to be alive, she thought. 'We must go. There's work to be done.'

Silently, her husband and daughter resumed their journey.

The wall around the Tower of the Forty-nine halted Wanton Tom as effectively as if it were an army archers sending down a rain of arrows. He looked from the ordinary-seeming wood, to Grosik, and back to the barrier, then simply lost himself in wool-gathering.

He wasn't considered friendly by human standards - and he was downright antisocial by dwarven reckoning so keeping company with Grosik had suited him just fine for years. The dragon offered occasional conversation and steady transportation. What else did a mercenary need that he couldn't tend to himself?

Tom had never asked Grosik's reasons for putting up with him. As dragons went, the Old Grouch was atypical. That much was obvious. Dragons were solitary beasts who seldom tolerated shared quarters with their own kind, let alone humans. A dragon didn't need anyone (unless you counted mating . . . for which another male of any species would be useless) or anything.

So how had the Old Grouch come to be here risking his life for an inferior man and his daughter?

'Tom?'

How had the dragon come to feeling so much affec tion for Ginni that he would willingly risk his freedom for her?

'Tom.'

Maybe it was like the legendary relationship between virgins and unicorns.

'Tom!'

The mercenary jumped. 'What are you shouting about?' he whispered. 'I thought we were trying to pull this off by way of stealth?'

The dragon snorted. "Then why have you been standing there staring at the wall? Did you expect Ginni to come running out, cloak in hand?'

'Well, it's a thought,' Tom answered, in an attempt to cover his confusion. What was he doing? Oh, yeah, considering the angles. Their information was good, coming from Abadan himself. There'd be a pay-back, but Tom would handle that later. In its way this rescue was going to be even tougher than challenging the elfwitch. Powerful as she was, there was only one of her. The witches had their weak spots, but they were smart enough to recognize the strength of numbers.

Tom bent down to yank a stray twig out of the snow-covered ground and began chewing.

'Tom.'

The mercenary thought back to Roslin's curse the night he left her. He wondered if she'd twisted his fate ever since to bring him to this moment, or whether it was just the inborn result of what a man did for a daughter in a fix.

'Tom, you're doing it again.'

Either way, he'd have the brief remainder of his life to manage whatever new curses the Forty-nine were about to shower upon him. Someone yanked the twig out of Tom's mouth. He spat on the ground. What was that bitter-'

'Probably mugwort,' said Grosik. 'If you keep letting your mind wander away, I'm going to have to retire you to a rocking-chair and a roaring fire.'

'Huh?'

'Has the maiden taken your tongue along with your trousers?'

'What maiden?'

That's better.' The dragon sounded satisfied. "There's no maiden, Tom. Just you, staring at that wall as if you expect to burn a hole in it.' He tsked quietly. "You've got to scale it. No other way. And Tom, your sword-arm's usually your strength, but you've got to remember to hold onto your wits. The magic out here is child's play compared to what's on the inside. These wards are meant to confuse everyone. In there, the hags will be looking for you.