She recalled the battle in the bowels of the palace. Shiru guided her as much as he could while manipulating the debris that flew around them. Eymunder protected her from harm, and her mind flashed with memories of past battles, those fought by Teranse the Reader. She had called the fire by its name, and it responded to her command. The roar of wind and flames had engulfed her; every move teetered between survival and destruction.
She had never felt more alive. She finally understood some of what it meant to be a warrior. She knew what Marcellus might experience in the midst of a raging battle, fighting simply to carry on. To inhale another breath. It was a potent mixture of fear and exhilaration, where reason was replaced by instinct, thinking banished by pure impulse.
It was freedom.
Or at least until Eretik died. Unable to ward off both Shiru and Nyori, he finally lost his focus. Engulfed by flames and torn to ribbons by the razor-edged rock shards, his screams still resounded in the back of her mind. Shiru had made certain to behead what was left of Eretik, resulting in the body combusting into glowing flames.
You killed a man. The accusing voice stabbed Nyori with guilt. The Sha were especially careful not to use their powers in ways that would harm another person. Nyori knew her actions would draw criticism. She wondered what any of her peers would have done if placed in the same situation as her. It was easy to speak of benignity until you were pursued by inhuman beings that would never rest until they killed you.
She remembered the false Evelina's words. Our eyes are everywhere. There is nowhere you can go where we cannot see you.
Nyori turned from the window and gazed at the Huntsmen. She wondered which of them was a Thrall, spying for the akhkharu. Which of them would eagerly betray her, report their actions and location. Which of them would kill her if so ordered. Was it just happenstance that Rhanu and his band were in the same location? Or were they manipulated into that position just as she and Marcellus were? And if so, to what purpose?
Shiru was another mystery. He was no mere leader of a foreign bodyguard. His mastery of Apokrypy proved he was something much greater. She wanted to speak more with him on the subject but didn't know whether he could be trusted. His appearance was suspect, especially in Kaerleon, where the akhkharu had made their bid for power.
Everyone except Marcellus had huddled together earlier, conceiving a plan for their next move. Nyori knew it was time to leave. Mistress Anya's voice whispered in her mind, telling her where she needed to go. Nyori would meet up with Anya on the road, and there they would determine their next move. Unable to completely trust her newfound allies, Nyori had told them that she was returning to her home in Halladen.
Upon hearing her decision, Rhanu and the Huntsmen volunteered to escort her, insisting that the trek was long and fraught with dangers. She couldn't disagree but wondered again on whether any or all of them could be agents of the akhkharu. There was little she could do, however. Journeying alone would be foolishness in the face of what pursued her, so she was forced to accept the aid of the Huntsmen. Dradyn had agreed to accompany them as well if Marcellus could be persuaded to join.
That was still the missing factor since Marcellus went straight to his vigil as soon as he arrived at the manor. He had not left his post in front of the winged statue since that moment.
Nyori turned her attention back to the window. It was fully dark, the falling snow barely visible. No doubt one of them would have to drag Marcellus inside. She would not let him die from grief and shame, no matter what he desired. And she could not imagine traveling anywhere without him along for the journey. They had been through too much together.
She gasped as she peered deeper into the darkness. Marcellus was nowhere in sight. It was as though he had vanished, and only her expanded senses revealed that he had not. But he was not alone.
There was something terrible out in the storm with him.
Chapter 24: Marcellus
The looming statue called to Marcellus surely as if it spoke aloud. He heard a voice clearly, calling his name.
"Marcellus…"
Time flashed backward…
"MARCELLUS ADMORRAN!" Evelina trotted up on a white mare. She rode straddled, not with her legs on one side like the ladies of the court. One would think she was a common woman, with her unadorned blouse and divided skirts. Soft leather knee-high boots covered most of her legs, but a glimpse of her thighs still flashed as she rode. Her reddish-gold hair bounced lightly, and a warm smile dimpled her cheek.
He drank in the sight.
She pulled rein beside him. "My lady mother told me you were leading a patrol this way."
"Yes, milady." He gestured to the lines of men lined up in the meadow some distance away. Jaslin's hair glinted in the sun as he rode the lines, instructing on sword etiquette. "Just breaking in some greenblades dreaming of knighthood."
To his surprise, she burst out laughing.
"You should hear yourself," she said between giggles. "Talking like you are so much older than they are. You were a greenblade yourself not too long ago, Marcellus."
He smiled ruefully. Just a year ago he wasn't even a greenblade; he was the Coward's Son. Now he was a Knight of the Sword. The lowest rank, to be sure, but among the youngest to attain it, and knighted by Lucretius himself.
"Too true, milady."
Shadowdancer thrust his muzzle out to her in a familiar way. She laughed delightedly and stroked his narrow muzzle.
"He still remembers me!"
"Milady, you are not easy to forget." He placed his hand on hers. She looked startled for an instant. Then color flooded her cheeks as she smiled shyly at him. She withdrew her hand slowly, delicately clearing her throat.
"I…the reason I came, that is, was because I wanted to bring this to you." She thrust a basket at him hurriedly. He could smell seasoned roast, potatoes and sweetbread wafting from it. "Mother thought you…you and Jaslin, that is…might be hungry, so I made a meal, just in case you wanted to…" She paused.
"Eat?" he asked helpfully.
"Yes, that's it." She blushed even harder. "I apologize, milord. I am not usually so clumsy in my speech."
He smiled. "I do not wish for you to call me 'milord.' We shall make a pact now that you shall call me Marcellus."
"And that you should call me Evelina, not 'milady.'"
"Very well, Evelina. Thank you for the kind thought. I will enjoy this, especially since your hands prepared it."
Her smile practically made his heart ache. "It's nothing. I do hope you enjoy it."
An awkward silence stretched for a moment. Marcellus found that his words tumbled over one another in haste to leave his mouth.
"Well, I suppose I should be heading back," she said.
He caught her hand gently. "Wait. If you are not in a hurry, perhaps you'll honor me with your company. Surely you did not expect me to dine alone."
"But what about Jaslin…your men—"
He laughed as he dismounted. "I'm their commanding officer. I don't have to stand sweating in the hot sun. I have had my share. Let them have theirs. Come." He extended his hand. After a momentary pause, she smiled and took it. He gently helped her dismount.
Time flashed…
MARCELLUS KNELT IN front of the monument with his face pressed against the freezing stone. Nothing was visible with the snow swirling furiously around him. The statue was the only thing that existed in the white world, the only thing that mattered. Snow baptized his head and shoulders and already buried his legs. But floating in the white void, anchored only by pain and sorrow, he no longer cared. Only one thought remained, one notion that sparked in his mind. With a ragged whisper, he named that which pained him even beyond his yearning for death.