Asunder Read online

  In my absence, Calder will come for you. He has sworn his life to you. We have spoken much about you in the darkness while you slept in your mother’s embrace. He knows what I have seen for you, I have held nothing back from him. Of us all, Calder can move without being followed, and be forgotten before he is even seen, especially in the woods. He will protect you, he will watch over you, and when the time is right, he will bring you into the world that is simply not ready for you.

  You will not receive this book from Calder, and I do not wish you to think that I did not trust him enough to deliver it. Understand that he is my best and only friend, and let him be for you what I wish I could be. I trust Calder with your life, and I trust him with the knowledge of your whereabouts. But if the unthinkable happened, if he was somehow caught … I know he would never willingly surrender you to Korith, but this journal says too much. About you, about magic …

  I’ve written it in a language few can understand, but Calder will teach you how to read it, in time. Korith has connections, and it would take him some time to find someone to read this - but find them he would. It would lead him directly to you, and I could not risk that. It had to stay with you, with the Dwellers.

  I have given you all the guidance I can, my precious baby girl, and the hour is late. Every scrap of understanding I have is written in these pages, each important moment in history, each person you need to know about, every possibility I have found for the power, every dream and hope and thought I could think of has been included.

  More than that, beyond all that - all the love I could feel for you in a lifetime has been poured into the writing of this, with the hope that you can know it even though I will not be here.

  You asked for everything. This is my everything.

  I love you.

  15

  “Do you know why I summoned you, Bashara?”

  The maid could barely breathe, pinned under the Duke’s gaze, and her hands would not stop trembling. She clasped them together under her apron and squeezed, willing them to be still, and risked a peek up into Duke Korith’s face. She wished she hadn’t.

  “Have I … failed my Lady in some way, my Lord?” Her voice cracked. She twisted Orrin’s ring on her finger, wishing she knew where he was, if he was safe. Had the Duke found him? The thought that she may never see the soldier again made her almost as sick as the memory of the attack earlier in the evening.

  “Was I not clear enough? I did tell you that her mind was not steady. Did I not instruct you to ignore her fantasies of a child other than Lucian?”

  Bashara’s voice failed her, and she nodded. What did he know?

  “I trusted you to keep her calm.” He took a step closer to her, smelling of whiskey and anger.

  Bashara held her ground.

  “Yet now I find you have been encouraging her delusions, involving others in the process… Rather than helping her, you are allowing my wife to slip even further into madness.”

  “My Lord, I—"

  “Bashar—” the Duke started to cut her off, but she continued on, impulsive.

  “It’s the tea, my Lord! That tea you make her drink, it’s not good for her. It affects her mind. You must listen! It makes the past more real to her than the present, it makes even the happiest memories sad. I tried to warn you—“

  Duke Korith slapped her across her face, hard. Bashara gasped and bit her lip, shocked into silence.

  “You will never speak to me like that again.” His voice was very quiet, and very cold. “Do you understand?”

  Bashara, stunned and stinging and breathless, nodded.

  The Duke’s eyes flashed dangerously. “Am I to repeat myself?”

  Bashara’s mouth dropped open slightly. “Yes, my Lord.” When she realized her mistake, her hands flew to her mouth and she shook her head. “I mean no, my Lord. I meant only that I understood, my Lord.”

  Duke Korith nodded, satisfied that he had frightened the girl into taking him seriously.

  “I am so very glad that we understand each other. I am going to continue now, and you are going to listen. You are going to listen very carefully.”

  “Yes, my Lord.” Bashara nodded. Just agree, she told herself, resisting the urge to touch her throbbing cheek. You are no help to your Lady if you are dismissed - or worse.

  “My wife, the Lady Korith, has been a friend to you,” the Duke said. “She has been nearly a sister, perhaps even another mother to you. To repay this kindness you have encouraged her weak mind in directions you have been clearly told are pure imagination. Now you deny responsibility for your own actions, blaming a simple drink for her descent into fantasy. Are you certain you are a loyal servant to her, Bashara? Because looking at the events of the past several weeks, I am inclined to believe otherwise.”

  Bashara swallowed, reminding herself to be careful. She looked to Korith for permission to speak, and he nodded.

  “My Lord, I didn’t think—” she began, but her words refused to form full thoughts. “It’s just that— Well she was so … her stories were very convincing, my Lord.” Convincing, Bashara thought, because she was telling the truth.

  The Duke’s face softened slightly. Bashara was not comforted.

  “She is quite persuasive, isn’t she? Sometimes she even has me convinced, and I am more certain of the truth than anyone. I suppose I can hardly blame you for being misled. But you should have come to me the moment you doubted.”

  Bashara thought of Orrin, and Calder, and the stories the ranger told— Bethcelamin was not mad. Not at all. But to best serve and protect her Lady, Bashara knew she had to stay on the right side of her Lady’s husband.

  “Yes, my Lord,” she said. “I see that now. I did not understand the ways in which the … madness would show itself. She seems so … normal most of the time.”

  Korith shook his head sadly, letting her agree with him, sinking into the chair behind the sturdy wooden desk.

  “It’s all part of the tragedy of the madness, Bashara. I do hope I can count on you to help me get her past this most recent outburst.”

  The maid nodded, staring at the patterned rug under her feet so she wouldn’t have to see his face. “I would— I will do anything to help her, my Lord. She has been very good to me over the years. You both have.”

  Duke Korith took another drink from his goblet. “I am very glad to hear that,” he said, his voice jovial enough for Bashara to look up. “Now I need for you to help me to help her.”

  “Of course, my Lord.”

  “I need for you to tell me what she tells you, what she thinks. She will never confide in me, no matter how much I wish she would. I love her more than she will ever realize, but in her madness … she views me as the enemy.”

  He looked genuinely distressed at this, and Bashara found herself tempted to feel sorry for the man. Almost.

  “I need my wife, Bashara, I need her support. She can’t give me that if she has it in her head that I am trying to kill her child – a child that doesn’t even exist.”

  Bashara nodded. Agree, agree, agree, she reminded herself. “Yes, my Lord.”

  “I’m so pleased you understand. You’ll help me, then?”

  “Yes, my Lord. Of course.”

  “Then tell me, Bashara— who told you of the ranger Calder’s presence in Epidii?”

  The color drained from her face, and Bashara thought she might faint. He knew. How could he know? If he knew about Calder, then he knew that she knew— and he knew she was lying about believing him about his wife’s madness. What was he doing?

  “Do speak up, girl. You wouldn’t want me to have to repeat myself.” The smile on his face was satisfied, as if he enjoyed watching her squirm.

  “I … It was his dog, my Lord.” She squeaked her answer, having decided not to lie yet if she could help it, at least not too much. She had a difficult enough time thinking in the face of his anger, there was no way she could keep track of anything other than the truth. At least some of it.

  K
orith raised an eyebrow. “His dog?”

  Bashara nodded and the words spilled out, tumbling over themselves in a rush she could not prevent. “Yes, my Lord. I found the dog in the gardens, he was a lovely animal but he looked terribly weak and so I asked Lady Korith what to do and she told me to bring him to her, so I did, and she called him Angus and said he was the companion of an old friend of hers.”

  Korith nodded, picturing this. “That friend being Calder.”

  Bashara nodded again. “Yes, my Lord. The dog seemed to react when she spoke his name, and she asked me to see what I could find out. I saw no harm, so I asked around.”

  “And this is when you discovered the captive being held until my return?”

  “Y - Yes, my Lord.” She bit her lip, not wanting to mention Orrin’s name.

  Duke Korith leaned back in his chair, tenting his fingers in front of his face so that his index fingers brushed his lower lip. The whiskey had dulled the pain behind his eyes somewhat, making it easier to think.

  “From your soldier love - Orrin is his name, isn’t it? The deserter who released my captive. Let me ask you this— did it occur to any of you that the prisoner was not who my wife claimed him to be?”

  Bashara looked up at him, meeting his cold gaze with frank, unfeigned curiosity. “My Lord?”

  “I will ask another way. Did the man introduce himself by name?”

  She took a moment to consider, then shook her head. “Well … no, my Lord. The Lady called him by name, and he responded to it.”

  Duke Korith slammed his hand down on the surface of the desk, standing abruptly. Bashara bit back a squeal of fright, but kept herself from flinching backwards.

  “Of course he did! If you were a man convicted of murdering the Duke’s son, would you not pretend to be anyone other than that man?”

  Bashara’s jaw dropped. That couldn’t be the case, it just couldn’t! “But he said—"

  Korith came around the desk and stood mere inches from Bashara, his face twisted and angry.

  “He lied! He is a killer, and it is a miracle he did not slaughter the both of you while you slept! Anything he told you or my wife was a lie to help him escape, which the two of you played into perfectly. So now, not only is my wife convinced her fantasies are truth, her son’s killer is again free! Did you stop to think of that, woman?”

  Tears slipped from Bashara’s eyes, but she would not sob. His anger was terrifying, but her fear didn’t mean she was stupid. Korith was lying, and if she was going to help her Lady at all, she had to make him believe she was convinced. She kept herself stiff and straight under his furious glare. “I thought—"

  Korith shook his head in disgust, and turned his back on her. “No you didn’t. I do hope I can trust you to come to me from now on, Bashara. I’d hate to think anything might happen to your father. He’s blind now, isn’t he? It’s good that your mother is able to help him.”

  Bashara’s heart froze. He wouldn’t.

  A sharp knock at the door cut off whatever she might have thought to say.

  “Lord Korith, there is news regarding the attack.”

  The Duke settled himself behind the massive desk and leveled his icy stare on the frozen maid.

  “You are dismissed, Bashara. My wife’s nerves were never meant to withstand such events as happened this night. You will see the Duchess receives her tea promptly following dinner from this point forward. I will expect your first report tomorrow evening, the moment Lady Korith is sleeping again. Do we understand each other?”

  Bashara nodded. “Yes, my Lord.”

  The steward did not wait until she had closed the door behind her before telling Duke Korith what he had come to say. Bashara heard the words slip through the closing door, and her stomach twisted in fear.

  “The undead came up from below,” the steward said. “A tunnel entrance was discovered in the East storeroom, Duke Derbin is sending a group in to see where it goes.”

  16

  The bridge across the Deep River had been formed by the entwined, arching roots of several ancient trees, and moonflower vines had woven themselves into secure railings on either side. Despite their yawns, both Kedra and Kendon were entranced by the pale, fragrant flowers which emerged to greet the moon as she showed her face through the sweeping branches overhead.

  It was Lianodel herself who welcomed Melody and the twins to Silmirra, the sheltered Elven community nestled just beyond the narrow mountain pass. The Elven woman waited on a stone bench at the base of one of the trees that formed the bridge. Two others waited with her, and to Melody’s eyes, all three shone with the pale blue aura of magic.

  “Welcome,” Lianodel said, standing and taking a step towards the ragged trio. “We’ve been expecting you.” Her voice was as light and graceful as her step, and Melody could see traces of Aellielle in the woman’s unlined face.

  Melody inclined her head in greeting. The twins, previously cranky and dragging their feet after another long day of travel, suddenly released Melody’s hands and ran for their mother’s grandmother with squeals of delight. Lianodel knelt and scooped both children into her embrace, laughing along with them as they patted and kissed her cheeks.

  Exhausted and leaning heavily on her staff, Melody felt some of the weight lift from her spirit as she watched the reunion. Finally, after weeks of hiking - often setting an agonizing pace to escape the unnatural things that hunted her - Rhodoban’s children were safe.

  How many weren’t, though? How many had she killed? Adults, children … she hadn’t cared. Sick dread returned with the memory, and suddenly it didn’t matter that Kedra and Kendon were safe. They were still orphans, and it was still her fault.

  “You are Melody.” The Elven woman was not asking.

  “Edowee,” Kendon said in a near-perfect mimic of Lianodel.

  Melody nodded, bringing her attention back to the present. Aellielle guided me to you, she sent. She and Rhodoban are—

  Lianodel didn’t let her finish. “My dreams show me much of the world,” she said. Her attendants took the twins from her, and Lianodel stood. “I know why you’re here. Come.”

  She took one of Melody’s hands in hers and the two of them trailed behind as the others carried the twins deeper into the woods, following a gentle path lit by the same luminous moss Melody remembered from the Haven so long ago. The woman’s pace was unhurried.

  You’ve seen—? Melody’s chest tightened again, and the stomach-clenching dread made it difficult to breathe.

  “Everything,” Lianodel confirmed, squeezing Melody’s fingers. “I cannot imagine the weight of the burden you carry, little one, but know this: you are not responsible for my granddaughter’s death. I am grateful that you brought her children to me.”

  Tears again welled up in Melody’s eyes as the enormity of what she had done loomed over her. Of course she was responsible, she thought. The Dwellers had been slaughtered for their connection to her, it was no feat of imagination to think Aellielle and the others met a similar fate.

  As the main settlement of Silmarra came into view, Melody saw that the homes of the elves were not constrained to the forest floor. They sprawled upwards instead, into the branches of trees so old their spirits had transcended into pure energy. Walkways of branch and vine rose alongside tree trunks of unthinkable size, all lit by the same pale, glowing moss.

  It’s lovely!

  Lianodel smiled. “Indeed,” she said, leading Melody into a central clearing. “Here, you must be hungry.”

  The area looked like a courtyard, with long low tables and bench seating along each side. A central cook fire sat in the middle, tended by several elves in long aprons. Everyone she saw shimmered pale blue in her vision, but Melody’s main concern was the smells coming from the fire. She was suddenly, powerfully hungry.

  Lianodel first led her to the food - roasted potatoes, carrots, and onions, and a thick, meaty soup topped with chunks of crusty bread - and then to one of the tables. Each tabletop had several sha
llow wooden bowls full of fruit, and beautifully formed wooden pitchers of water beside stacks of simple wooden cups.

  “Eat, Melody. I’ll return when the twins are fed and asleep.” She noted Melody’s expression, and gestured to the others. “You are safe here,” she said. “Be easy.”

  The food was delicious, filling and comforting - even the meat in the stew was appetizing, which Melody was too hungry to wonder about. Only when her plate was empty and the last piece of bread had scooped up the last bit of stew did she look around, curious about the sprawling, mostly vertical city.

  Silmirra, to Melody’s eyes, was exactly what a community should be. The sheltering trees and sound of water in the distance reminded her of the Haven, which she realized with a pang of sadness that she would never see again. She still felt Goddess near, but surely there could be no welcome in a place like the Haven for someone who had— the memories still hurt too much to bear.

  She focused instead on the city’s atmosphere, peaceful and quiet, the easy comfort of people going about their business. It brought an image to her mind of the Dwellers, and the heaviness already in her heart increased as she remembered Sherron and Brison, Gorlois, the others… They would have loved it here, she thought, imagining Sherron’s wonder at the glowing moss and spiraling branch staircases.

  “That’s better,” Lianodel said with an approving smile for the empty plate before Melody. “How do you feel now?”

  It was wonderful, thank you, she sent, standing and gathering her dishes. Where can I wash these?

  “Leave them,” the Elven woman said, motioning for another elf to come tend to the plates. “There’s someone who wants to speak with you.”

  Melody wrinkled her forehead, letting the elf take the dishes from her hands. Someone wanted to speak with her? Who? No one knew where she was. She thought - hoped - for the briefest of moments that it might be Jovan. For the first time since they’d parted so painfully outside of Foley, she tentatively reached for him in the quiet place they used to share— and found only cold rage.