Book Three: ‘King’s Artesan.’

Chapter One.

The jolting of the horse shook Taran’s very bones and the sensation was making him nauseous. He struggled to calm the heave of his stomach, but his head was hanging upside-down beside his horse’s shoulder. His mouth was firmly gagged, so being sick could well prove fatal; he was in enough discomfort already without choking on his own vomit. His hands were tied tightly behind his back and he dangled helplessly across the withers of his horse, feeling very miserable. He tried to close his eyes against the nausea which roiled and churned in his belly but the peculiar buzzing numbness of the spellsilver, coming from the knife which was thrust through the ropes against his skin, was invading his brain and sapping his strength. It was a dreadfully disorienting sensation, cutting him off from his powers as it did, and he hardly knew how to bear it. He hung on and endured as best he could, trying not to groan in his distress.

    There were horses all around him, although he could not tell how many. Out of the corner of his eye he caught sight of Ric’s mount, and he could see that the young Apprentice was slung over its neck, bound and gagged as he was. The Adept could not tell if his friend was also feeling sick but he guessed that he must be. The men who had taken them had known they were Artesans; Ric would be suffering from the effects of the spellsilver just as Taran was. But despite his fear at their situation, Taran couldn’t suppress a guilty relief that he was not alone.

    The group of men were talking amongst themselves as they rode, laughing roughly and making crude jokes. The buzzing of the silver in Taran’s skull meant that he could hardly make out what they were saying; the rush of blood through his ears due to hanging upside-down only added to the muzziness in his brain. But gradually, as he listened, he gleaned enough to know that their commander was a man named Heron, and that they anticipated a rich reward for capturing Taran and his friend. The Adept tried not to guess why they’d been taken. But he pricked up his ears as he heard some of them mention fighting in Albia, and he suddenly wondered if these men had been involved in the demon invasion. Then he cursed himself for his slow thinking. Of course they had, they were Rykan’s men, weren’t they? He knew that Rykan had set up the invasion in order to get Sullivan sent to Marik as ambassador, so it would hardly be surprising if this group had been part of that fighting force. But knowing this didn’t bring him any closer to the reason why he and Ric had been captured.

    Serious though their own predicament was, Taran couldn’t help but be concerned about Bulldog and Ruth. He’d seen no sign of them as he and Ric had been manhandled down off the hill, and he could see no sign of them now. He couldn’t decide whether that was good news or bad. It could simply mean that they had been left unmolested – which seemed highly unlikely – or it could mean that they’d been killed. They might even have been taken somewhere else. But he had no way of knowing and speculation was futile. He thought that it probably wouldn’t be too long before he found out. He and Ric had been abducted for a reason and he very much feared that it meant Sullivan was dead. After all, he’d seen Rykan defeat her, and the vengeful Duke would hardly allow her to live, even if she was no longer a threat once her powers had been stripped from her. Losing her metaforce would not prevent her from wielding a blade, and Taran knew Rykan would never take the chance that she might kill him one day. He could only hope that her death had been swift and not brutally drawn out to feed Rykan’s pleasure. He thrust that thought desperately from his mind as the tears that came into his throat threatened to choke him under the gag.

    The group of swordsmen set their mounts to the canter once they were clear of the hill, and the dreadful jolting suddenly got worse. Taran was thrown violently about by the gait of the horse and it was all he could do not to lose consciousness. A moan escaped him, muffled by the gag, but no-one took any notice. He was in no danger of falling, tied as he was to the saddle, but his body was battered and bruised by the time the horses slowed once more. He breathed heavily around the gag, trying to calm the spinning of his brain. Then the horse came to a halt and voices could dimly be heard. Taran was in no state to hear what was said, he was barely lucid. He only vaguely registered the man who walked up beside him and looked him over. He felt a hand under his chin and his head was raised, not gently, as the man scanned his face.

    ‘Yes, this looks like the one; he fits the general’s description.’

    His head was allowed to fall and his nose connected painfully with the horse’s shoulder. Another groan escaped him. He felt hands at his bonds and thought he might be released, but they were only checking that the knife was still securely fastened next to his skin. They knew what they were doing, his captors, they knew not to let him access his powers. Sick and sore, he closed his eyes.

    ‘Why are there two?’

    He heard the voice dimly, as if through a fog. The man who had spoken was clearly unhappy, and Taran forced his numb and reeling brain to concentrate on the reply. Anything he could learn might help him; the question had already told him that he was the target, not Ric. He strained his unwilling ears as he heard men crowding around him.

    ‘There was four of them altogether on that hill, Commander,’ a gruff and surly voice replied. ‘They wasn’t keeping watches and they didn’t see us. We ignored the other two; one was an older man and the other a woman. But these two was standing together; there was no way we could take one without the other. We’d have alerted the other two if we’d tried, and then we’d have had to bring them or kill them. Only this one, we was told, so we figured this was the best way. If the dark one’s not wanted then we can always leave him on the battlefield. Cut his throat or stick him in the back; one more corpse won’t make no difference!’

    Taran heard movement which was followed by the unmistakable sound of Ricard’s deep groan. He surmised that the commander was looking him over just as he’d done with Taran. He prayed they wouldn’t put a knife in Ric’s back; he couldn’t bear it if his Apprentice died merely because he’d been standing too close to his master. Of all the failures in Taran’s life, that would be the worst. He felt his heart falter as he waited for the decision. 

    ‘Bring them both.’ Taran’s heart missed a beat as relief swamped him. ‘If nothing else, he might be useful as leverage. They’re obviously friends, and what one knows, the other probably does, too. But don’t think you’re getting double the reward! Now get on with you, Arif, and take them to the general. And once you’ve done that, get straight back here; I’ve other duties for you.’

    There was a jerk on his body and the horse began to move again. Taran tried not to pass out as he endured the nauseating motion. He caught a glimpse of Ric’s face as his horse briefly passed the other; he thought his Apprentice was out cold and he envied Ric the oblivion. But no matter how deeply he craved the false comfort of unconsciousness, he knew he must stay awake. There might be some chance of a rescue, if Bulldog and Ruth were still safe.

*        *        *

From their vantage-point on the hill, Ruth and Bull watched the final, shocking move that ended Rykan’s Challenge. Terrified and despairing while Sullivan had lain injured and defeated at the dark lord’s feet awaiting death, Bulldog could hardly breathe, his chest was so tight with pain; and Ruth’s heart had nearly burst with hope when her friend had played her trump card. The healer had had no way of knowing the existence of Sullivan’s desperate plan, and neither she nor Bulldog had been prepared for it. By the time Sullivan had forced the Duke to yield they were both overwhelmed by emotion, wrung-out and exhausted.

    Ruth let out a sobbing breath as she watched Sullivan strike off Rykan’s head. She could not begin to imagine how the major was holding herself upright, let alone wielding a sword, and Ruth was frightened by the severity of her wounds. She could almost feel her friend’s agony and she was desperate to reach her and help her. But Sullivan was too far away and they were not safe yet. She closed her eyes and let herself sag. She and Bull, still locked together by Bull’s strong arms, clung to each other now in relief and release of tension. The big man’s chest still felt tight with strain but the awful breathlessness had eased and his lungs were working normally again. They saw the Hierarch tending to Sullivan and watched as Robin gathered the unconscious girl into his arms. Knowing she was safe at last, the tears came into their eyes.  

    ‘Well, thank the gods that’s all over!’ said Bulldog explosively. He seemed unconcerned but Ruth was still worried. She could see that Sullivan had collapsed from bloodloss and exhaustion – it was understandable after all – and was thankful she was alive. She knew her friend would receive the best of care in the Hierarch’s Palace. But it was Sullivan’s final, despairing words that had frightened Ruth.

    ‘What did she mean, Bull, that Rykan’s power was not enough?’

    ‘I don’t know,’ he replied. ‘She obviously managed to absorb his life-force before she killed him – although how she did it without his consent I have no idea – but he was Master-Elite, like her, and so should have had the same level of power. Why it isn’t enough, well, we’ll just have to wait and ask her ourselves.’

    ‘Are we going down there now, then?’ asked Ruth, looking up at him with a pleading wistfulness. He smiled back down at her as he unlaced his stiff fingers from around her waist and let her go.

    ‘I think we’ll be safe enough now,’ he said, ‘as long as we . . .’ He stopped. ‘Hello, where have Ric and Taran got to?’ and he glanced quickly about the clearing. Ruth spun round to where she had last seen them and a puzzled frown knotted her brows.  

    ‘They were here a moment ago,’ she said. Softly, still mindful of their illicit presence here, she called for them. There was no reply.

    ‘That’s odd,’ said Bull, his voice sounding strained. ‘I’ll just go and see if they’re with the horses. You stay here, Ruth.’ He walked off into the trees to where the horses had been tethered. His startled shout brought Ruth running, her heart in her mouth. He met her with alarm. ‘The horses have gone, Ruth!’

    ‘What? But why would Ric and Taran have moved the horses?’

    She went cold at the look on Bull’s face. ‘They wouldn’t,’ he said curtly. ‘Let me concentrate, Ruth; see if I can pick them up.’

    She waited in hand-wringing silence as he searched the substrate for any trace of their patterns. After a few minutes, the look in his eyes told her he’d had no success.

    ‘But they can’t just have vanished!’ she protested, tears blurring her sight as she looked about wildly. ‘They were standing right by us! Oh, I don’t like this, Bull.’

    ‘No more do I,’ said the big man grimly. ‘The thought that someone has come up and lured them away or taken them without us knowing is frightening. And the fact that the horses are missing means that they don’t want anyone following them.’

    He suddenly swore viciously, making Ruth jump, and punched a fist into the trunk of the nearest tree. ‘Oh, why didn’t I keep a better watch? This is all my fault, Ruth!’

    She came closer and put her arms around him. ‘There were four of us here, Bull,’ she reminded him. ‘It wasn’t just your responsibility.’

    ‘That isn’t how Sullivan will see it,’ he commented ruefully. ‘Gods, I’m in for a double roasting, now.’

    ‘But who can have taken them, Bull, and what do they want? What could anyone want with Ric and Taran? Why take just them, and not us? Rykan’s dead, his faction has lost, so it can’t be anything to do with him, can it?’

    Bull spread his hands. ‘Oh, I don’t know, Ruth; I can’t answer any of that. All I do know is that I can’t sense either of them, and that means spellsilver is involved.’ He sighed, passing a hand shakily over his florid face. ‘Well, we can’t do anything about it now, not without horses. And I’m not going to put you into any more danger; I’m in enough trouble without that! We really need to get down to the Citadel and talk to Robin. I’m not going to contact him from here; he has enough on his mind and he’ll be exhausted.

    ‘Let’s gather up what we have left, Ruth, and then we’d better start walking. Just pray that our bad luck’s over and that we meet up with troops of the right side first!’

*        *        *

Down in the blood-stained arena, Robin lifted the unconscious Sullivan as carefully as possible, thankful that she was unable to feel the pain of her wounds. He didn’t like to look at the mess of her left hand and dreaded to think that it might be too damaged to heal. Surrounded by the sounds of celebration which didn’t reach through his fear, he carried her gently back towards the pavilion. There was only one thought in his mind now – get her to Teshan as quickly as possible.

    Pharikian, meanwhile, had curtly summoned Sonten to him and was giving instructions for the removal of Rykan’s corpse and for the annexing of the dead Duke’s lands. Rykan had no nominated Heir – had Raskin lived that honour would probably have been conferred on him, but under these circumstances the Hierarch would never have permitted Sonten’s nephew to hold the province of Kymer – so there was no-one to protest the Crown’s appropriation. The dukedom was forfeit anyway after Rykan’s defeat, and Pharikian would appoint a regent to oversee the province until its disposal could be arranged.

    He also gave Sonten orders for the dispersal of the army and its disbanding, and he left the portly lord in no doubt as to his fate should he ever side with a rival to Pharikian’s rule again. At any other time, Pharikian might have noticed the strange look in Sonten’s eye, and he might have drawn the conclusion that Sonten wasn’t as distraught over the fate of his overlord as might have been expected. But he was too concerned over Sullivan to pay Sonten much attention, and he curtly dismissed the sullen general. Sonten stalked from the arena, casting sly-eyed looks over his shoulder at the Hierarch’s pavilion while gesturing for Rykan’s elite guard to gather up their erstwhile lord’s remains.

    Desperate for speed, Robin carried Sullivan to Marik’s carriage and gave her over into the count’s care for the ride back into the Citadel. Idrimar, catching his urgency, chivvied up her little chestnut and drove as fast as she dared. Robin travelled on the footplate, intending to see that Sullivan was delivered straight into Teshan’s hands. Work on her wrist and the burnt flesh of her hand would have to start immediately, although if she was right and the power she had absorbed from Rykan was not sufficient to counter the poison, then all this urgency might well be futile. Robin’s heart ached in his chest; he couldn’t believe how quickly his relief at her survival and euphoria at her triumph had turned to despair.

    Pharikian saw them drive off towards the Citadel with a heavy heart. He stayed a little longer with Anjer, Ephan, Kryp and Vanner, to arrange a triumphal entry into the Citadel, buoyed by the wild celebrations of his forces and subjects. He owed them that for despite his fear, Sullivan’s victory had redeemed his realm. Like her father before her, she had given herself for his reign, and like her father before her, it seemed that she must pay for it with her life.

*        *        *

Eventually, after what seemed like an age of discomfort, the horse came to a halt once more. Taran opened bleary eyes, unaware that they had been shut. He could still see only the pelt of his mount; he was too weak from the spellsilver to turn his head. So he remained as limp as he could and strained his ears through the incessant buzzing of the spellsilver.

    He registered that the riders were dismounting and that horses were being led away. He heard the sounds of many men and surmised that he and Ric had been taken into the ranks of Rykan’s army. He was puzzled by the muted sounds. They had been defeated in the battle he knew, but surely, since the Duke’s victory over Sullivan, there would be more celebration than this? Shouldn’t there be shouting and laughing? Shouldn’t there at least be the sounds of men drinking, the smells of food being prepared? All he could hear were vague and sullen murmurs, muted voices, and the tramp of feet.

    He gave it up. Perhaps they were simply too tired. Or perhaps Rykan didn’t believe in allowing his men to celebrate. Taran imagined there’d be much work to do in the wake of a victory such as Rykan’s. And despite what Sullivan had told him of the Codes concerning strife among nobles, he could hardly imagine the Duke suffering any of his enemies to live. And if he was now the new Hierarch, who would dare to task him with breaking the Codes? So perhaps his men had postponed their triumph until their work, and Rykan’s takeover, was complete.

    ‘They’re over here, my Lord.’

    There was movement close by him and two booted feet came into his blurred vision. He heard the rasp of a heavy man’s breath and smelt the aroma of sweat. He had a momentary glimpse of the edge of a cloak, black velvet trimmed with pale-blue. The sight triggered something in his memory but his head ached too fiercely to pursue it.

    ‘Oh, that’s good, Lieutenant; that’s very good. There are two of them, you say?’

    ‘Yes, my Lord. They was standing together so we brought you both. The other one’s here.’

    The feet disappeared and Taran tried to crane his neck but the strength had gone out of him and his muscles wouldn’t work. Then the rustle of clothing told him the man was coming back, and he gave up the effort.

    ‘Two Albian bastards, eh? In it together, do you think?’

    ‘Bound to be, my Lord.’

    ‘Hmm. Raise his head for me. I want to look into his eyes.’

    A hand grabbed Taran’s hair and forced his head painfully up. He tried to stifle the moan but failed. A dark shape appeared before his hazy sight and he got the impression of a thick, fleshy body, and a florid, leering face. Something about the face set off a dim memory in Taran’s beleaguered brain but the full picture wouldn’t surface. He screwed up his eyes against the discomfort in his body and the buzzing in his mind and tried to force himself to remember.

    ‘You don’t recognize me, do you, you Albian bastard?’

    It was the voice, rather than the face. He’d never clearly seen the man anyway. But something about that thick, imperious voice brought memories flooding back; memories of killing, of pain, and of death. The blood that had run to his head with his position over the horse now drained completely away, and he stared with horror into Sonten’s triumphant eyes.

    ‘Ah, now you remember,’ purred the general thickly. He thrust his face unpleasantly close and Taran could feel the spray of his spittle as he hissed out his fury. ‘You took something from me, you murdering scum! You destroyed all 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 for it. 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 an idle threat, well, I also have your dark friend, there. We’ll see how co-operative you can be when it’s his screams you’re hearing!’

    Sonten gestured to the man holding Taran’s hair and he abruptly let go. The Adept’s head fell forwards, once more striking the neck of the horse, and Taran felt an agonizing pain shoot up through his nose. He groaned aloud and Sonten laughed.

    ‘Get the others and get mounted!’ he snapped to his men. ‘I want to be out of here before it gets dark. We’ll make for the forests and find a suitable spot to camp. And make sure that none of Rykan’s rabble see you!

    ‘Now, where’s that idiot messenger-boy? Imris! Dammit, someone go and find him, and quickly. I want him to contact Heron; I have a job for him to do. Well? What are you waiting for?’

    Taran’s horse was pulled into motion and the nightmare ride began again. The sickness resulting from the spellsilver returned anew, but it was as nothing to the sickness that surrounded Taran’s heart. Torture and death awaited him now, and even if he gave his captor what he wanted – whatever that was – he doubted Ricard would be spared. It seemed his Apprentice would die after all, merely by being associated with Taran, and the Adept knew he couldn’t bear it. All he could think of as he was jolted away was Ruth’s heart-broken tears when she learned the tragic news.

*        *        *

It was later in the afternoon when the major awoke, mercifully after Teshan had worked on the shattered bones of her wrist. He had done what he could and they would need further attention, but the outraged and damaged flesh needed time to settle before the more delicate work could be undertaken. He had strapped the arm up as firmly as he could without restricting the circulation.

    The burnt flesh of her hand had been cleaned, salved, and wrapped to keep it clean, 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 thoroughly and stitched shut, and would be sore and inflexible for days. Her other injuries had been relatively minor and all were now bandaged and clean. The most serious problem was loss of blood and both Pharikian and Robin had donated some of theirs to boost her supply – the Artesan-physician monitoring her carefully for signs of adverse reaction to blood not her own – and she now lay exhausted and white against the pillows of the huge bed. Robin sat by her side, holding her undamaged hand, while the two Andaryans looked on.

    The captain was grave with concern, noting her dull and strained eyes. He would have preferred it had she stayed longer asleep, but he knew she would give herself leave to rest when she felt able. For now, he had questions that he needed answers to and she was well aware of his confusion.

    ‘I don’t pretend to understand much of what happened today, love,’ he said. ‘Are you able to explain it to me?’

    ‘I will do my best, Rob,’ she replied in a weak voice. ‘What do you want to know?’

    Robin frowned, trying to remember what had occurred in the arena; so much seemed to have happened so quickly that he found it hard to order his thoughts.

    ‘Why did you agree to the spellsilver?’ he said. ‘When we left that drovers’ hut you couldn’t possibly have known that any of this would happen, yet you had us bring it along. And you’d obviously told the Hierarch about it before we left the Citadel today.’

    Sullivan tried a faint smile but was too weary to support it. She took a painful breath. ‘It was a gamble, my love,’ she said. ‘You are right, I did not know, back at the drovers’ hut, that the spellsilver would form part of my strategy for Rykan’s defeat, but as I had managed to breach its effects once I thought it would be politic to bring it just in case. Do you remember, last night when you found me up on the Tower, that I said I was trying to remember something? Well, when Timar uttered those words to me about a gift freely given, I suddenly knew that I had a potent weapon against Rykan, and one which he could not negate even if he managed to win the duel. It was then that I realized how I could make use of the silver, should it be one of Rykan’s conditions as I suspected it would. My only worry was that he would recognize the collar as being his own, but when he had his Second examine it instead of handling it himself, I knew I was safe. And he had no idea that I had managed to breach it, so it would allow me to use the element of surprise against him and give me the only means I would have of saving my own life should he defeat me.’

    She turned her aching eyes on the Hierarch where he stood listening at the foot of the bed. ‘You did know that I had no intention of abiding by the terms of the contract, Timar?’ Teshan gasped but Pharikian only nodded resignedly. ‘I would have destroyed Rykan as well as myself – as I intended to do when I was his captive – had I not been able to breach the spellsilver and take control of his mind. The only thing that saved my honour was his failure to make me concede defeat before he took hold of the collar. And for that I have Marik to thank, for distracting Rykan at the crucial moment.’

    Pharikian inclined his head; he already knew that she had been perfectly prepared to sacrifice herself to deny Rykan his victory. But Robin was still confused.

    ‘So why did you insist on the fire-field?’ he asked. ‘What good did that do you?’

    ‘Well, as Rykan did not trust me, my love, so I did not trust him. But I was more concerned over external interference from his supporters, many of whom would not have scrupled to shoot me once they realized their lord was defeated. The fire-field effectively guaranteed that we would be undisturbed whatever the outcome of the duel. It left me free to concentrate on absorbing his life-force. I had also gambled on being able to sense it during the duel – at least partially – even through the spellsilver, and to use it against Rykan and limit his advantage somewhat. Fortunately, that one paid off too.’

    ‘It seems to me that this whole affair has been one huge gamble,’ grumbled Robin.

    Sullivan managed a weak smile. ‘Well, of course it was, my love! I thought you appreciated that from the start.’

    The captain shook his head.

    ‘Well, it was a gamble which paid off handsomely and every man, woman and child in my realm is in your debt, Brynne,’ said the Hierarch gently. ‘There is no way in which we – in which I – could ever repay you or thank you enough.’

    Her voice was no more than a whisper. ‘Gratitude is neither necessary nor appropriate, Timar. It is I who should thank you, for giving me my chance at vengeance.’

    Pharikian came forward, his eyes holding sadness. ‘But has that vengeance gained you redress, my child? From what you said before we bore you from the field, I fear that it has not.’

    Robin turned pale and Sullivan closed her eyes momentarily. She really didn’t want to examine this just yet – this knowledge that the power she had so laboriously extracted from her enemy, and at such cost, should prove to be insufficient to save her life. It would indeed be the ultimate irony if Rykan should yet have the last laugh.

    ‘I cannot pretend to 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; the skill and the strength are still there. But the core of his power is missing, as if he had given fully half of it away. And this puzzles me greatly because he seemed so sure of himself when he was gloating over me at the palace. How did he think he would overcome my skills, let alone defeat you, while labouring under such a disadvantage? I can think of no reason why his strength should be so depleted, but I wish I had known it before. There would have been no need for me to be so circumspect with my own metaforce while on the field of battle.’ 

    None of them had any theories that made any logical sense and Pharikian could see that she was becoming ever more exhausted as she spoke with them. Catching Robin’s worried eye, he tried to convince her to rest. But there was something yet she had to do, and she knew she could not sleep until it was done.

    ‘I understand your concern, but I have to give it back, Timar,’ she pleaded, willing him to understand. ‘Holding Rykan’s power is taxing my will as it is and I cannot take the risk that the poison will overwhelm me before the donated life-force is returned. Please, Timar; I cannot rest until this is done.’  

    Unable to refuse, he called for his page and sent for those who had given up control over their own existence to enable her to win her chance at life. She returned the borrowed power as gently as she had taken it and felt an increasing lightness in her soul as she did so. Strangely, when it came to Pharikian’s turn, the absence of his power did not relieve her as the others’ had. Rather, it left her feeling bereft and she reflected that she had become so close to him in all the weeks she’d been here that his essence no longer felt alien to her.

    Once the ceremony was over and she’d thanked all those who’d participated in this most intimate of rites, she was left once more with Teshan, Robin and Pharikian. They thought that surely she would sleep now, but she had another task to perform. The Hierarch stood studying her with great concern as she told him, seeing her grey and pinched face, her huge, feverish eyes, and blue-tinged lips.

    ‘Now, this is really not a good idea, Brynne,’ he said sternly, his sentiments echoed by the other two. She shifted restlessly in the bed, impatient with their concern.

    ‘But I have no choice, Timar,’ she insisted, the urgency plain in her fragile voice. ‘I cannot wait, much as I might wish to! My body is too weak now to fight the advance of the poison. There is only one part of me – one tiny, intimate, last part – that is still free of infection. If I do not attempt to purge myself now, if I leave it until I am physically stronger, I very much fear that this final, clean part of me will also be taken over. And if that happens, then I am truly damned.

    ‘I have no strength left with which to protect myself, Timar, and if I allow myself to sleep, then not even you could guard that precious portion of my soul. But with you and Robin to lend me strength and Teshan to guide me, I will do what I can with Rykan’s reduced power and cleanse myself of as much poison as I can. The mystery of his missing strength will have to wait.

    ‘So let us make an end, Timar. Please. I need to do this now.’

    And he could not refuse her pleading, despite the warning and uncertainty in Teshan’s eyes and the terror of losing her in Robin’s. He nodded his acquiescence and she sighed in relief.

    They linked together with Pharikian as the driving force, sparing her any expenditure of power or energy save what she needed for the cleansing. The Hierarch drew Robin’s offered strength under his control, impressed anew by the depth of the young man’s integrity and potential capacity. His power was very easy to manipulate as he gave himself over totally to Sullivan’s needs.

    Teshan had also linked with her and was ready to help direct the flow of metaforce to where it would do the most good. Gathering herself with an effort, Sullivan began the process. It was slow and painful as the poison had to be physically burnt out of her, and had it not been for Pharikian’s skill and the support of his and Robin’s deep and powerful forces, she would never have survived. Teshan showed her the vital areas, guided her to the places which must be freed of infection if she was to live, and to see those terrible black masses wither and die before the onslaught of Rykan’s power was immensely gratifying after so long. Even the sharp pain of it was welcome as it was a cleansing pain, a healing pain, and what was left behind, although empty and raw, would eventually fill with her own substance again.

    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 had caused Robin to break down in tears, the supply of Rykan’s power was exhausted. The poison had been burnt away and the fibres of her being had been cauterized, leaving her naked and hurting inside. But the insidious and inexorable creep of the infection’s advance had been halted, and she no longer felt the weight of her own death upon her. Only a small portion of the contamination still remained; but it had taken root in the deepest and most inaccessible regions of her soul and it was bonded so strongly to her personality and essence that it would be most perilous to remove, even with the full complement of Rykan’s power. And that, she did not have.

    The three men stood together, holding onto each other for support, physically and mentally drained to the core. They stared down at the fragile body in the bed; oblivious now, sunk so far down after the last superhuman effort of purging that even Pharikian had had to let go, and they couldn’t believe that so small and frail a frame had contained those vast and determined energies.

    Her face still bore the tracks of tears and her last cry still reverberated in Robin’s ears, but her expression was serene. He’d felt her triumph at beating the sentence of death placed within her by Rykan’s brutality, and it had been so much more intense even than her satisfaction as she’d struck off his head. She may not be completely clean of him, but she was no longer living on borrowed time.

    All three men were white and shaking with exhaustion, but full of quiet admiration for what they’d achieved. Pharikian shook his head, quickly dashing away the slow tears that overran his eyes as he said, ‘Oh, her father would have been so proud of her! If only he could have found the strength of will to live. She’d have been his strength, and what an invincible team they’d have made.’

    Teshan gulped down a laugh. ‘You wouldn’t have stood a chance, Timar,’ he said shakily. ‘No-one would!’

    Pharikian just shook his head again. A movement by his side caused him to turn sharply as Robin’s legs suddenly refused to hold him upright any longer and he collapsed. Pharikian just managed to catch him and ease him down onto the bed. The young man was shuddering violently with reaction and the Hierarch just sat and held him while the emotion ran through him. It took some time, but eventually, calm returned.

    ‘Well done, son,’ said the Hierarch kindly. ‘You’ve been through a lot today; more than most considering you love her more than your own life! You have helped her win life back now, at least for the time being, and you deserve your rest. No,’ he said, holding up a hand as Robin made to protest, ‘you’ve done more than enough. There are others who are quite capable of taking care of the rest now. You will get yourself to bed and I will see to it that you sleep. Oh, it’s no good arguing with me, boy; you’re not Master yet and I could render you senseless with a thought if I so chose!’ and he grinned at Robin’s expression.

    The captain smiled weakly back. ‘I don’t believe you, sir,’ he said, feeling finally at ease with this very powerful man. ‘I don’t believe you have the strength to snuff a candle right now.’

    ‘That’s enough of your insolence!’ laughed the Hierarch, appreciating Robin’s attempt at levity. ‘But even if you’re right, Teshan here makes a mean sleeping draught. Now, bed!’

    Robin wisely chose not to argue and needed neither a sleeping draught nor Pharikian’s gentle assistance to crawl into the vast, warm bed and fall almost instantly into a deep and healing sleep.

Chapter Two.

Slowly and gently, savouring every moment, feeling very nearly clean again and so thankful to be alive, Sullivan allowed herself to return to wakefulness. Without opening her eyes she indulged in the luxury of spreading her senses throughout her body, delighting in the purity of the places so recently occupied by the mass of poison; raw yet but now so clear and clean. They hurt, were tender still and empty, but would fill again with her natural essence once the hurts were healed.

    She avoided that one area of her soul where infection still lingered; not wanting to be reminded that, despite cheating death on one hand, the demon-induced contamination still meant that she couldn’t cross the Veils, couldn’t return home. She was still trapped in Andaryon, in an alien environment, and this meant that she would still die too early. But she would not think of that. For now, she would just glory in feeling more like herself again.

    Still keeping her eyes closed she shifted her senses outwards, exploring her other hurts. Every muscle ached and every tendon protested after her exhaustive fight with Rykan, but that was a very small price to pay for victory and it was one she was well 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 surmised that Teshan must have used his powers to help it along. She was grateful.

    Then she steeled herself to take a good look at her wrist and hand. She was rather afraid to probe too deeply in case they were damaged beyond repair. She could see where the Artesan-physician had worked on the small, shattered bones; bonding them together so that no little splinters remained, cooling and soothing the outraged flesh. It was still swollen and extremely painful, but she could see that given time, the bones would knit and the wrist would work again. Maybe even as well as it had done before. She expended a little energy in reinforcing Teshan’s work and felt the fierce pain subside to a dull throbbing.

   The flesh of her hand, however, was another matter. The inner surfaces of the palm and fingers had escaped relatively unscathed, for she had reflexively balled her fist when the hand had entered the fire. But the flesh on the back of her hand had melted away almost to the bone. It was a sorry mess. Although clean and clear of infection, the area was weeping and unhealthy looking and would take days – if not weeks – of power-filled healing before it was useable. And it would never be the same.

    But then, she hadn’t been the same since her capture by Rykan, so she should be used to that by now. Doing what she could for the moment to speed the healing and growth of new flesh, she then allowed her senses to roam about the room. As her eyes were still fast shut, the person sitting beside her bed had no idea that she was awake. Smiling gently to herself, Sullivan swallowed round a dry throat and murmured, ‘Ruth?’

    The older girl had been sitting staring at the floor, preoccupied with her thoughts. Sullivan’s unexpected voice startled her and she jumped. ‘Brynne!’ she exclaimed, looking over into honey-gold eyes that had opened onto hers. ‘Oh, it’s good to see you awake. How are you feeling?’

    A tiny frown creased Sullivan’s brows as she caught a flash of deep unhappiness from within her healer friend. She studied Ruth’s face; the grey eyes, the long, braided dark hair, the capable hands folded in her lap. She was rather pale, but then she had spent days out in the cold with only trail-rations to eat and worry to contend with. It was not so surprising.

    ‘Apart from the obvious, Ruth, I am well. And I am very pleased to see you again.’

    ‘Oh, Brynne, we’ve all been so very worried about you,’ sighed Ruth. ‘I hope you’re not still angry. We just couldn’t just sit around doing nothing while you were risking your life against Rykan.’

    Sullivan watched her carefully. There was something below the surface that Ruth was attempting to hide; the younger girl could sense it quite clearly. ‘I am not angry with you, Ruth, not now,’ she said reassuringly. ‘But you did take quite a risk in coming here, and Bulldog went against my express command to bring you. He should have known better and he knows what to expect for his disobedience! Where is he, by the way? And where is Robin?’

    Ruth’s suddenly flushed face and downcast eyes told Sullivan that there was something badly wrong. ‘What is it, Ruth?’ she asked in alarm. Ruth looked away in silence, twisting her hands together in her lap. ‘Ruth!’ snapped Sullivan, her fear making her sharp. The healer’s eyes jerked back and the younger girl saw with dismay that tears lay glittering in their depths.

    ‘I promised Timar I wouldn’t tell you,’ said Ruth in distress. ‘Not until he’d seen you. But I knew I wouldn’t be able to keep it from you; I told him you’d sense it.’

    ‘Sense what, Ruth? What did he not want me to know? Tell me, or I shall get angry. What has happened?’

    ‘Oh, Brynne,’ cried Ruth brokenly, ‘Ric and Taran have disappeared! They were taken or lured away while we were watching you fight Rykan. It happened right under our noses but Bull and I were so intent on you . . . Brynne, even the horses were taken! There was nothing we could do so Bull and I came here. He told Robin about it and then the two of them went looking for Ric and Taran and . . . and now Bull and Robin have vanished as well!’

    There was silence in the room. Sullivan stared at Ruth as the healer fumbled for a cloth to dry her eyes. When she was a little more composed Sullivan said darkly, ‘Give me details, Ruth.’

    Ruth gathered herself with an effort. Twisting the damp cloth between her fingers she related in greater detail what had happened on the hill and how Bull had discovered that the horses were gone. ‘After that,’ she said, sniffing a little, ‘we gathered what we had left and began to walk down off the hill towards the Citadel. We didn’t try to hide ourselves; it was getting dark and we wanted to be found by the Hierarch’s men as quickly as possible. So we made for the high road and eventually ran into one of the patrols overseeing the dispersal of Rykan’s forces. They were very suspicious at first but our lack of weapons and horses, and Bulldog’s obvious knowledge of you and Robin, convinced them that we were genuine. They brought us into the Citadel and eventually presented us to the Hierarch.

    ‘He sent for Robin as soon as he’d heard our tale although he didn’t really want to; he told us that Robin had exhausted himself helping you burn out Rykan’s poison, and when we saw him we felt terrible; he looked so drawn and tired and he was obviously so glad to see us . . . but when Bull told him what had happened to Ric and Taran, he was all for leaving then and there to search for them. He grew quite angry and distressed, but the Hierarch made him wait until we’d washed and eaten and rested a bit. I think he was worried that Robin’s exhaustion would affect his reasoning, and he made sure that Robin ate something too. Then he made Bull tell the story over again and afterwards, he and Robin did a search for Ric and Taran. But they came to the same conclusion as Bull; that spellsilver was involved, or worse.’

    Ruth took a sobbing breath. ‘So then there was no stopping Robin. The only concession he made to the Hierarch was to take some extra men with him, but he and Bull left that same evening. Bull did come and see you first, but you were still asleep. Robin had promised to report to the Lord-General – Anjer, is it?’ Sullivan nodded, her eyes distant, ‘but by the middle of the next morning when nothing had been heard from them, the Hierarch discovered that no-one could contact Bull or Robin either. And now . . . oh gods, Brynne, I’m so frightened for them!’

    Sullivan was about to murmur something to try and reassure Ruth when a phrase impinged on her mind. Her eyes sharpened and she felt a cold hand grip her stomach. ‘Ruth, you said, “by the next morning”. This was not today or yesterday, then? How long ago did they leave?’

    ‘The evening of the duel,’ admitted Ruth in a tiny voice. ‘This is now the third day since you killed Rykan.’

    Sullivan froze. ‘More than two days ago?’ she hissed. ‘And they failed to report from the start?’ She swore, startling the distressed healer. ‘Oh, let me concentrate, Ruth,’ and her eyes turned black as she flung out her senses to try and locate any one of the four familiar patterns of her friends.

    Ruth sat unmoving, staring at her hands in her lap and trying not to feel so wretched. She’d been under strict orders not to do what she’d just done, but she knew she’d never stood a chance of hiding anything from Sullivan. They were too close and the younger girl too astute for secrets, especially such emotive ones as these. And despite her current condition, Sullivan still exuded a powerful aura of competence, of comfort, of capability, and Ruth badly needed some of that right now. She sat there willing the major to succeed, but when those gold-rimmed black eyes eventually contracted, Ruth could see, with a sinking heart, that she’d had no luck.

    ‘Bull was right,’ said the major, pushing herself awkwardly up in the bed. She flung back the covers. ‘I cannot contact any of them and that can only mean one thing.’

    Ruth’s hand flew to her mouth. ‘They’re not . . . dead . . . are they?’ she gasped.

    Sullivan caught her breath. ‘Of course not, Ruth! Timar surely told you that? Have you been sitting here all this time worrying that they could be dead?’

    ‘Well, I tried not to but I couldn’t get it out of my mind,’ admitted Ruth shakily. ‘No-one mentioned the possibility, but I just though they were being kind.’

    Sullivan snorted. ‘Kind?’ she snapped. ‘It was not kind to leave you in doubt; Timar should have told you straight. No, Ruth, their matrices still live. If they’d died there would just be blankness where the pattern should be, but I can sense their existence faintly. Spellsilver blocks all contact but thankfully it does not hide the pattern completely. Unfortunately though, it does mean that I am unable to use their matrices to track them.

    ‘What puzzles me is why someone would abduct Ric and Taran in the first place. But I think that Bulldog and Robin must have found them, and even if they were careless enough to get themselves caught, it means that I can find them, too.’ She slid her legs carefully out of the bed and stared pointedly at the healer. ‘You will have to help me, Ruth; I cannot dress myself one-handed.’

    ‘What on earth are you doing?’ protested Ruth. ‘You’ve lost a lot of blood and you’ve been badly wounded. You can’t possibly go after them yourself; you’re not nearly fit enough!’ She was really distressed now; the Hierarch would be so cross with her!

    Sullivan just looked at her. ‘Of course I can,’ she said. ‘Who else is there? Has Timar sent someone after Bull and Robin?’

    ‘I don’t know,’ said Ruth unhappily, eyeing the dressings on Sullivan’s thin body and the strapping on her arm. ‘I think he mentioned getting the patrols to look out for them. He’s bound to come and check on you soon; why don’t you wait and ask him?’

    ‘Timar will have other things on his mind right now, Ruth,’ snapped Sullivan, her fear making her short-tempered. ‘Now are you going to help me, or must I call a page?’