“But perhaps they can stay ahead of despair.” Erlestoke met Resolute’s cold silver stare. “Don’t tell me you don’t feel it.”
“Last I knew, Highness, I was not of Oriosa, therefore not subject to your commands.”
“I know you’re upset. I can understand…”
The Vorquelf rose from the rock upon which he sat. The moon’s cold light sank him into a silhouette save for his silver eyes. “Upset? You understand? You’ll forgive me if I choose not to believe that you understand what I am feeling. I have been without a home for well over a century. You may hate your father, you may have chosen to live apart from your nation, but I do not have that luxury. My family was slain, and my homeland taken from me. All I have ever wanted is to go back, so I could be bound to the land and have a normal life.
“Will was the key to that. When Crow and I found him he was nothing. In his mind ‘right’ meant anything that pleased him, and ‘wrong’ was someone else’s useless sense of morality. His duty was to himself, perhaps to friends, but no further. He, like you, wanted to be king, but his kingdom was a five-acre slum that spent half the day underwater and awash in sewage.”
Erlestoke shook his head. “That’s not the Will I knew. That’s not the Will who died here today.”
“Exactly. That wasn’t the Will Norrington who died here today. We trained him, we gave him a sense of duty and obligation. At least, we pointed him toward them, and he accepted those burdens. He wasn’t perfect. He had lapses. There were times I wanted to take him back to the Dimandowns and leave him there.”
The prince nodded, keeping his voice low. “But then there were the times he rose above. My brother told me how he faced my father down, and how he accepted the Freemen. I saw how they looked at him, and spoke to him, when they took their leave. He had earned their loyalty. No gutterwhelp could do that.”
Resolute shook his head. “No. None comld have and, had he lived, he could have done so much more. It’s over now. The prophecy is broken.”
“Do you think so?” The prince scraped a hand over his jaw. “Perhaps it just needs to be reinterpreted.”
“Oh, it will be.” Resolute pointed east toward Saporicia. “When we arrive in Narriz tomorrow and reveal that the Norrington is dead, it will be reinterpreted by everyone. Some will debate the words in the original Elvish, others will twist phrases and clauses and make up stories about the other candidates to make them fit. Perhaps the Norrington just means someone from the Norrington holdings. And there are other Norrington families in the world. Perhaps a cadet branch. Genealogies will sprout like mushrooms in manure as anyone who wants to be a hero manufactures himself a Norrington pedigree.“
“Getting rid of them will be a bother, but…”
The Vorquelf shook his head violently. “You’ve been at Fortress Draconis too long, Highness. The Draconis Baron kept everyone there focused on Chytrine. When I was a child she took Norvina and Vorquellyn. When you were a child she took Okrannel and tried to destroy Fortress Draconis. The pattern, as Will pointed out, is clear. Now she has Sebcia and soon will have Muroso.”
“And the nations of the world will band together to oppose her.”
Resolute’s barked laugh echoed off Vael’s tall peak. “Tell that to the people of Norvina. Tell that to Vorquelves like me. The nations of the world use every excuse they can to avoid doing anything so bold. In a grand conspiracy, they broke Tarrant Hawkins, branding him a liar and traitor, when they knew full well that your father was a puling coward and that Hawkins’ message from Chytrine was correct. Just imagine, Highness, what will happen when news spreads through the leaders at Narriz?”
Erlestoke felt a chill run down his spine. “Factions will gather around various Norrington candidates, splitting the effort to oppose Chytrine. Nations that feel vulnerable will form alliances against neighbors, and some will treat for peace with Chytrine. My father will, certainly.”
“And so it is all undone. Even if she is content to wait for another generation, she will not lose. With fertile lands like Sebcia and Muroso, she will harvest food, feed her armies, and they will swell until they become irresistible.” Resolute fixed him with an argent stare. “Your child will never sit on the throne of Oriosa if Chytrine is not stopped now.”
The prince considered for a moment, then nodded solemnly. “Then we will have to convince them of that.”
“‘Twould be easier to bring Will back to life.”
“That doesn’t mean we can’t do it.” Erlestoke started ticking things off on his fingers. “Alexia and I can speak with the politicians and try to convince them. Kerrigan can rally Vilwan to our side. You and Crow can speak with the military folks. Perrine can recruit an army of Gyrkyme. You draw the Vorquelves, and we’ll have dragons: Rymramoch, Vriisureol, and Dravothrak. Even Bok might be useful, and we have the Freemen helping free Sarengul, so we’ll have other urZrethi allies. We could put together a formidable army.”
The Vorquelf’s eyes half closed, and he actually smiled, which Erlestoke did not find exactly comforting. “That plan is not without merit.”
“But its chances of success are minimal?”
“They are, and any little thing could cause its collapse.” Resolute’s smile grew a little. “It will also make a lot of people angry. But given our alternatives, it’s probably the best plan we’ll find.”
Kerrigan hated the expressions of shocked disappointment and betrayal on the others’ faces. “I said, ‘I’m sorry, I can’t go with you.’”
Erlestoke stared at him. “But we need you. You can show the Vilwanese how to locate fragments of the DragonCrown. You can teach them how to fight Chytrine’s troops.”
The portly mage shook his head. Bok squatted with him at his left side, and Rym Ramoch, in a new scarlet robe, stood on his right. “I have a lot of things to learn here. My master is going to teach me some dracomagick that should help me refine my spells and make them more effective. If I go with you, I won’t be as valuable as I will need to be. I won’t be the ally you’re going to need.”
Crow slipped from Alexia’s side and pulled the mask from his own face. He rested both hands on Kerrigan’s shoulders. “Kerrigan, I don’t doubt that you feel you need to stay here. It makes sense.”
“Thank you.” Kerrigan glanced down, refusing to meet Crow’s stare.
Crow’s right hand came over to his chin and tipped his face up. “But, before we go, before we let you stay here, I want to know the real reason you’re not coming with us.”
Kerrigan opened his mouth for a moment. A denial sat on his tongue, then he shut his mouth. He could feel his jowls quivering. He clenched his jaw lest their quivering make it to his chin and lips, then shake tears from his eyes. He sucked his lower lip in between his teeth and bit it, hoping the pain would keep the tears back, which it did. It let him swallow past the lump choking him, too.
He began in a small voice. “I could have caught the Truestone. I could have caught Will. I could have saved him. I could have slammed Nefrai-laysh through that portal before Lombo got there. I could have saved Orla.”
Crow squeezed his shoulders. “None of that is your fault.”
“No, Crow, not my fault.” Tears began tp burn their way down his cheeks. “But I could have prevented it! If I had more training. If I thought faster. And…”
The man finished it for him. “And you don’t want to fail us and let us die, too.”
Kerrigan shook his head, unable to speak.
Crow drew him into a strong hug. Kerrigan hesitated, uncomfortable and desperate, then grabbed handfuls of Crow’s tunic and gripped them hard. He hung on tightly as Crow gently stroked his back.
“You listen to me, Kerrigan Reese. I know Orla told you to listen to me and to Resolute. She wanted you to stay with us. She wanted you to learn from us, and as she lay dying, she made you our responsibility. And we kept you with us until we left Caledo. Not because we thought you’d be in danger with the Freemen, but because we knew you would be far better employed with Alexia in Nawal.