The lonesome crown, p.67
The Lonesome Crown, page 67
“Go!” Seita shouted at Liz Hen again.
Liz Hen lowered herself down the rope, round, worried face disappearing from sight. Dokie handed Sky Reaver to Seita and followed the big girl over the railing, gripping the rope tight, eyes wide when he saw the gaping drop beyond.
Seita leaped up on the ivy-choked railing of the balustrade, fresh air glazed with calm behind her. She turned to face the remaining knights advancing up the stairs. To Mancellor she made for a formidable black silhouette against the bright azure skies. She held Sky Reaver up tauntingly, sun glinting blue shards off its glimmering blade.
“To Absolution!” she shouted, then took one step back, dropping from view.
Beer Mug was left alone on the balcony. He barked and cried, racing back and forth at the foot of the balustrade, knowing to leap over it would be a long fall to the rocky crags below. The first knight up the stairs took a ponderous swipe at the dog with his black sword. Beer Mug dodged the blow, and the sword sparked off the stone railing. The dog lunged at the young knight’s legs, knocking the man aside as he raced back down the stairs toward Mancellor.
“Grab him!” Jovan shouted. “Don’t let that dog get away!”
Mancellor watched as Beer Mug sprinted past him across the chamber and out the front doors of Sunbird Hall, plunging into the depths of the castle, barking as he ran.
“Why did you not stop him?” Jovan looked at Mancellor accusingly.
“I traveled a long way with that dog.” Mancellor didn’t know whether he would be hanged for his answer, but he said it anyway. “Beer Mug is a friend. He’s just a dog. What harm can he do?”
“Idiot.” Jovan turned to Leif Chaparral, who was making his way back down the stairs, his brother, Glade, following.
“What the bloody fuck just happened?” the king asked them. “That girl just killed Spencerville. And they made off with my sword. They stole Sky Reaver. And they did so right under your nose, Leif Chaparral. How is this possible? How did this happen?”
“The rope above is cut,” Leif said. “We cannot follow them. I can send a man to scale the cliff below to find the hatchway Seita described.”
“She betrayed us,” Jovan exclaimed, eyes darting around the hall in frustration. “The skinny Vallè bitch.”
“I never did like her,” Leif said.
“We will hunt them down,” Glade said. “Kill them all. I shall get your sword back for you, my king.”
Jovan stared back up at the open balcony above. “And what was that nonsense the Vallè shouted?”
“To Absolution,” Grand Vicar Denarius answered, eyes locked on the overturned urn of oil. “She shouted, ‘To Absolution!’ ”
“But what does it mean?” Jovan asked.
“It means Seita knows the words in The Way and Truth of Laijon more than even you, my king,” Denarius snapped, gaze traveling from the urn back down to Archbishop Spencerville. “It means that because of what happened here today, Absolution is now closer than we all can know.”
“I don’t understand.”
“Of course you don’t understand, Your Excellency!” the vicar shouted. “In The Way and Truth of Laijon, in the Acts of the Second Warrior Angel, it says, and I quote, ‘I prophesy unto you, my faithful kin, a most blessed archbishop shall be murdered by means most foul. He shall lie in state with one of royal blood, only to rise again before Fiery Absolution. For only the dead can usher in the return of Laijon.’ ”
“What are you saying?” Jovan asked.
“I am saying that prophecy has been fulfilled. Spencerville is dead, murdered by means most foul. And now he will search the underworld for the soul of Jondralyn. He shall bring her forth when he arises, and she shall live once more.”
It is told that a Vallè maiden of royal blood can see ahead to what the future holds, but her knowledge of the present is never clear.
—THE WAY AND TRUTH OF LAIJON
CHAPTER FIFTY-THREE NAIL
1ST DAY OF THE HEART MOON, 999TH YEAR OF LAIJON
AMADON, GUL KANA
Seita said we’d find a friend in here.” Liz Hen Neville’s boisterous voice cut through the darkness of the Slaver’s Inn, startling Nail from his nap. “But she didn’t tell us that we would find two friends.”
“Both Nail and Hawkwood!” Dokie Liddle exclaimed, stepping out from behind Liz Hen, a familiar curved blue sword in his hand.
Nail had been sitting in boredom and half slumber at a table in the farthest corner of the tavern with Hawkwood, Tala, Cromm, Bronwyn, and Lawri, when Liz Hen had come waddling up, Dokie with her.
“Dokie!” Nail shot up from his chair and rushed to his friend, wrapping both arms around the smaller boy’s shoulders in a most welcome clench. He was overjoyed and could feel the tears forming in his eyes. But he would not cry.
Hawkwood stood from the table and hugged Liz Hen. “Well met, Liz Hen, well met again. I must say it is good to see you.”
Liz Hen pulled away from Hawkwood and faced Nail. There was a moment of awkward silence; then she grinned from ear to ear. “I am so happy to see you, Nail. I so feared you were dead, and then Seita told us you lived.”
“Your hair is shorter,” Nail said.
“Is that all you have to say, you clodpole?” Liz Hen huffed. Then she slugged him in the shoulder. Gently this time, not like she used to, and with the smile growing even wider.
“I am glad to see you, too.” Nail leaned in and hugged her.
She blushed in his embrace, squeezing him tight in return. He let her go, and he could see tears in her eyes.
“Where is Beer Mug?” he asked. “Last I saw he was running off across the glacier. But I figured he would find you. Did he?”
“He did,” Liz Hen blubbered. “He did. And now he is gone again. Missing.”
Nail felt his own heart crawl up into his throat. “What happened?”
“Seita said not to worry,” Dokie answered. “She said Beer Mug would find us again. Soon. And I hope he does.”
“Seita?” Nail asked. “You’ve seen her, too?”
“Aye,” Dokie continued. “She was just outside. She said go on into the tavern, a very good friend awaits you inside. She said we shouldn’t need her until the morning of Fiery Absolution. She said Fiery Absolution is almost upon us. Said it will be here sooner than you think. And then it will be over in the blink of an eye. She snapped her fingers as she said the ‘blink of an eye’ part. And then she took off.”
“I thought she might mean that it was Val-Draekin who awaited us here,” Liz Hen said. “I wasn’t expecting you and Hawkwood.”
“I reckon it could have even been Mancellor awaiting us in here,” Dokie said.
“Mancellor?” Bronwyn Allen stood, the whites of her eyes sparking behind black tattoos, brows furrowed in heavy concentration under her green hood. “Did you say ‘Mancellor’? That is my brother’s name.” She pulled the hood back from her tattooed face, the two feathers tied in her hair soft and white against her dark locks. Cromm stood up next to her. A look of fear crossed both Liz Hen’s and Dokie’s faces at the sight of the towering oghul standing before them, broad back against the wall.
“Who is this Mancellor you name?” Cromm growled.
Dokie raised the curved blue sword up before Cromm. “I have this to kill oghuls with now.”
“Please put that blade away.” Lawri Le Graven blurted, staring at the blade in Dokie’s hand, horror in her eyes. “That blade took my arm.” She sat next to Tala, the sleeve of the dark cloak pulled up over the silver gauntlet attached to her arm.
Dokie lowered the blade. “How’d this sword take your arm?”
“Never mind that.” Lawri slunk back from him, retreating farther into the shadows of her cloak.
“That’s my brother’s sword,” Tala said, standing and eyeing Dokie warily. “The sword Leif Chaparral gifted him, the one Leif stole from Aeros Raijael.”
“And who are you?” Liz Hen asked.
“I am Tala Bronachell.”
Dokie did the three-fingered sign of the Laijon Cross over his heart with his free hand and then bowed. “M’lady princess.”
Liz Hen stood still as a stone. “Are you really the princess?”
“She is,” Nail said, feeling somewhat proud of the esteemed company Liz Hen and Dokie had found him in. “She is Tala Bronachell, princess of Amadon.”
Liz Hen stared at Tala, her face a stiff mask of doubt. “She is the princess?”
Cromm Cru’x leaned over the table, gnarled hand offered toward Liz Hen in greeting, the jewels embedded in his knuckles a faint sparkle in the dim light. “I am Cromm Cru’x.” His voice was a deep rumble. “Again, who is this Mancellor you speak of?”
Liz Hen did not shake Cromm’s hand. Instead she retreated a step, scowling, arms folded over her chest. Then she unfolded her arms and nervously rubbed her neck as if rubbing away a bad memory. The oghul withdrew his hand.
“Cromm senses you have something negative to say to him.”
“I’ve nothing to say,” Liz Hen answered.
“But you do,” Cromm insisted. “Spit it out, girl.”
Liz Hen continued rubbing her neck, looking from Cromm’s cold eyes to Nail and then toward Hawkwood and then back. “I, well, I am surprised that you can talk, Ser oghul.”
Cromm folded his own large arms over his own broad chest. “So Cromm can talk? What of it?”
“ ‘What of it’?” Liz Hen’s eyes darted around the table again. “Well, I beg your pardon for saying, but the only oghuls I ever knew were the grunting and killing kind.”
Cromm grinned. “Most oghuls are the grunting and killing kind.” The jewels in his long fangs sparkled. “Perhaps I shall grunt at you instead. Then kill you—”
“Stop teasing.” Bronwyn cut the oghul short. Her brows still furrowed as she studied both Liz Hen and Dokie. “You said the name Mancellor earlier, did you not?”
Liz Hen squinted at the girl, then back at Cromm, as if trying to figure out what exactly was going on, trying to figure if this wasn’t some cruel conjurer’s trick, a talking oghul in a tavern. She was growing fidgety, both of her hands now trying to cover her flushed neck as she stared at the oghul.
“Yes, Mancellor was his name,” Dokie said, keeping the curved blue sword behind his back and out of Lawri’s sight. “Mancellor was with us in the castle before we escaped over the balcony. He helped us bring Princess Jondralyn back to Amadon.”
“You were with the Wyn Darrè man who brought my sister back from Savon?” Tala asked.
“Aye,” Dokie answered. “We were with Mancellor Allen.”
Bronwyn exchanged glances with Cromm. “Mancellor Allen?” she repeated.
“Aye.” Dokie nodded. “Mancellor Allen of Wyn Darrè. He helped us escape Lord’s Point and the Untamed. Helped with Jondralyn. He is a most valiant of knights.”
“My brother lives.” Bronwyn looked at Cromm.
“So you knew Mancellor?” Dokie asked.
“He was my brother,” Bronwyn said. “I mean, he is my brother.”
Nail could see the tears forming in her eyes. It was odd, as hard as the girl was.
“When did you last see Mancellor?” Cromm asked.
“Earlier today,” Dokie answered. “Like we said, in Amadon Castle. Mancellor was there when Liz Hen killed the archbishop.”
“Killed the archbishop?” Tala exclaimed.
“Aye.” Dokie nodded. “Stabbed him right in the guts.”
“Which archbishop?”
“The fat one.”
“Spencerville,” Tala muttered.
“That’s the one.” Dokie nodded again.
“It wasn’t my fault.” Liz Hen’s eyes were wide with both horror and fear. She elbowed Dokie hard in the shoulder. “Why did you tell the Princess Tala about the archbishop, you stupid? She’ll think bad of me now. She’ll think I am some kind of assassin out to slay everyone.”
“Nobody will think bad of you, Liz Hen,” Hawkwood interjected. “But it sounds like we all have stories to tell. Let us sit and sort things out over some dinner.” He motioned to the burly man behind the bar across the room, then glanced at Liz Hen and Dokie. “You two look famished. A bowl of stew would do you some good.”
“Stew?” Liz Hen turned up her nose. “From that man?” She was giving the stink eye to the bartender across the tavern. “Don’t look like much of a chef to me.”
“I’ll talk to the bartender about getting you a better meal,” Dokie said.
“Talk to the bartender about a better meal?” Liz Hen repeated. “Why don’t you just talk to a pile of my ripe shit while you’re at it, for all the good it will do?”
“What is wrong with this girl who always complains?” Cromm asked.
“I don’t always complain,” Liz Hen said.
“She doesn’t like any tavern food served to her by a man.” Dokie shrugged.
The oghul nodded. “That does make some sense to Cromm. I too prefer a woman-cooked meal.”
Bronwyn looked at the oghul askance. “Since when has the gender of a cook mattered to you?”
“Cromm is just trying not to tease the girl as you asked.” The oghul sat down, leaning his back against the wall. “Cromm is just trying to find common ground. At the moment, Cromm is just an oghul trying to make friends.”
“Well,” Dokie said, looking up at Hawkwood. “Do you think I could at least ask the bartender if he has an extra parchment and some charcoal? I have been itching to draw again for some time.”
“I’m sure he can bring you all the parchment you desire,” Hawkwood said, gesturing to the empty chairs at the table. “Let us all sit. Let us all catch up.”
* * *
Stew was served. The stew was good. They all partook but for Lawri Le Graven, who just sat silently. Dokie looked frightened to death of the girl. He was careful to keep the blue sword hidden from her sight. But then the bartender brought Dokie his parchment and charcoal, and the boy began drawing.
Stories were exchanged. Liz Hen gave everyone a quick rundown of all that had happened to them since she and Dokie had parted with Nail atop the Sky Lochs glacier. In turn, Nail related his story to them, leaving out the part about Lawri’s silver arm. Liz Hen showed extreme dismay at the fact that the black angel stone had been faked by Seita.
“Stefan is lost,” she said with sadness. “Roguemoore dead. Godwyn and Culpa Barra, too. Val-Draekin likely also dead. The weapons and angel stones all lost. And Seita bringing a fake angel stone back from the north? I like her. But clearly Nail and Tala and many others do not trust her. So much for the Company of Nine.” She looked at Nail. “It is only we three left: Dokie, me, and you.”
Dokie looked up from his drawing. “All I know is that Seita saved our lives many times in the Sky Loch mines. And she saved us in the castle, helped us escape, and brought us here to safety. I do not see how she has betrayed anyone by conjuring up a fake angel stone.”
Liz Hen’s brow crinkled at that. But she did not counter Dokie’s argument.
“How would Seita know that Nail was even here?” Tala asked with real fear in her voice. “She probably knows we are all here. She could betray us to my brother.”
“She is a Bloodwood,” Hawkwood said. “And Bloodwoods have a way of knowing everything. She will not tell Jovan of our whereabouts, especially considering all the trouble she went through to get Liz Hen and Dokie here safely.”
“If only she could have saved Beer Mug, too,” Dokie said, then went back to his drawing.
“Despite what Seita said earlier, I fear Beer Mug will never find us again,” Liz Hen said, hands fidgeting nervously atop the table. “The more I think about it, the more I realize he is truly gone. Jovan would not have let him live. He is not that type of man. I’ve worried for that dog this whole journey, and now that I know he is never coming back, I feel almost relieved.” Tears were running down her cheeks. “Relieved, yes. And angry, too. I’m so angry. And so sad. And frustrated. And so confused. And lost. I want to fight. To kill. I feel all things bad. No things good.”
“You have to make your own reality,” Hawkwood said. “For I see that look of both hopeful melancholy and sheer anger on your face, Liz Hen. I recognize it, for I have been there too. It is easy to go through life with your hand balled into a fist, ready to fight, ready to strike out and kill. It’s far more difficult opening up those hands to receive, to give, to love.”
“But love never lasts,” Tala said, saying what Nail was thinking. And then he felt his own mind wander. Has anyone ever loved me? In his dreams, yes. Bits and pieces of memory were slowly coming back to him through his dreams. And it all tied back to one singular day upon the Sky Lochs glacier. Not the day when he had fallen through the ice with Roguemoore and Val-Draekin. But rather when he was atop that glacier as a child. All he remembered of that day was his mother holding him. Or maybe it wasn’t his mother, but some woman who looked after him. He’d been having many dreams as of late about this woman carrying him over the Sky Lochs glacier. Blood covered her back. Men in dark hoods chased them, horses with red-glowing eyes. Bloodwoods. It was all so similar to the dreams that had haunted him as a child. But these dreams were different. For despite all, these dreams were not the nightmares of old, for the woman in these dreams held him as if she truly did love him, and he basked in her touch. Was I truly once loved? When he broke out of his reverie, Hawkwood was still talking to Tala.
“As a Bloodwood, I was empty. Lonely, like most of you at this table. My real name and face had been stripped away, replaced with a false shell named Hawkwood, a man wearing naught but an erroneous mask of lies. But with Jondralyn I found the life I was searching for, with her I felt whole. Where is family, where are my friends, where is my place to call home? I found all that in Jondralyn. Your sister helped shape a purpose and peace in my life I had never before felt, Tala. Love does last.”
“You’re breaking my heart, Hawkwood,” Liz Hen said.
“Mine too,” Tala echoed. “Because what you say is not reality. Because Jondralyn died in the end, and your love was still lost. Mine too. If I ever knew it. I went to Savon to save my sister, to tell her the black angel stone she carried was a fake, that none of the weapons would work without the real stone. And that is probably why the weapons didn’t work for her.”
