The Song of Andiene - By Elisa Blaisdell Page 0,123
for him to say it?
She remembered Syresh, lying sea-chilled on the stony beach. She thought of Ilbran, dying of the grievers’ fury. She stared blind-eyed into the wall of flames, and then she understood.
“One thing you did not teach me, Lord Yvaressinest.”
The fire ebbed and died, leaving a stillness behind. The ruined courtyard waited. She was afraid to look into Kallan’s eyes, for fear of the pain-filled madness she might find there. She spoke as confidently as she had ever spoken, though her heart was filled with doubt and fear.
“There is one thing you did not teach me, dragon, and with it I can give you back the sacrifice that ties you to this land. You taught me to kill, not to heal. You cannot claim any part of this.”
Knowledge came to her this time, not by dragon’s gift, but freely, the use of the power that lay within her. It was bitter tedious work that she must do, to heal when she would rather have destroyed. But the pattern lay before her in stony bone. Flesh and bone obeyed her will, and the dragon waited in helpless anger, as she bound his fettered bones to his body again, and clothed them with flesh and hide and scales. The chain coiled like a serpent and fell away from his leg. He watched her in cold fury.
“You have no claim on this land now,” she said. “And no claim on me. Whatever source my power has, it is not all from you. I have proven it.”
For all his subtlety, he could not deny it. She could see the division in the worlds now, almost tangible, like a wall of stones half battered down. She set the stones into their places, lifting and fitting them one by one, though it was blasphemy, and the meadow high above the sea faded and was gone.
One last whisper came, dry and rustling. “You built the wall shoddily. It will not last forever.” Then there was quietness, a stillness like the first rain after summer, the song of birds after winter.
No dragon bones lay in the courtyard. The chain and fetter lay useless across the stones. Andiene looked in wonder, to see those stones whole and white, the tufts of sweet-snow springing unscorched from their earth-filled crevices.
At her side, Kallan took a sighing breath. His face was haggard but peaceful. “Our minstrel could make a fine song of this.”
“She will never know.”
“Now I know what voice Nahil heard,” Kallan said. “He heard it first in the northern lands, telling him that his father had been poisoned. He spoke of it long ago. Later, it told him what to do.”
“Nahil, and Giter, and I,” Andiene said.
“Who was Giter?”
“Another who heeded his subtle voice, it seems.”
“Would any of us have been deaf, if he had wooed us?” Kallan asked. They walked together to the gate. Andiene stumbled, and Kallan reached out to steady her. “You have blood on your face,” he said foolishly.
“Never mind.”
“Our fathers, how could they bear it, to see that living among them?”
“They were blind,” she said. “They saw a gray lizard and looked no further.”
Kallan shook his head. “I wonder. Since the time of Karstir, your land has killed three kings for every one that died to north or south.”
He set his shoulder to the gate, and dragged it open. The guards surrounded him. “How long has it been?” Andiene asked.
“One day,” Syresh said, staring past her into the empty square. “A day and a night. We did your will, and did not try to enter.”
“Do I still have a city to rule, or has another one taken power?”
“You are Rejin of this city. None rose up to challenge you. None would dare.”
They walked along the winding streets toward the palace. Ahead of them, a grizane stood and waited, robed in heavy gray.
She faced him boldly as he spoke. “Greetings, Lady Andiene. You were made of stronger metal than we thought.”
“You made good time,” she said. “How far did you have to travel to go around the rocks you pulled down from the high cliffs?”
“Not I,” he said. “It was my fellow who did that, and died under those heavy stones.”
“It was no feud of my choosing.”
“We know that. He should not have moved to war against you. But his fear was great, and first he tried to stop you gently.”
Then Andiene laughed. “Still, you trust me. How long has it been since you could travel freely through this city? One day after I gain it, and you walk as though you had never been hunted. And for all your fears, you came too late. The battle is over and done.”
“Not over, not done,” the grizane said. “Not for you, nor for the child you carry. That wall you built will not stand, and you are still the gateway that he will use to enter this land.”
Andiene’s face was joyful and serene. “Not now,” she said. “Not now.” She walked on, till she stood at the gateway to the palace, the very heart of the city.
She set her hands on the stones that guarded the archway, and spoke, and the city answered as it had answered its true lords for half a thousand years. No mortal hand was set to bell ropes through the whole wide city, but the bells spoke in exultation, first the near ones calling, then the far ones answering. They clashed and hummed their many notes into one dizzying blur of sound.
The day had begun, Festival day, Year’s Beginning, when all mankind walks outdoors, rejoicing and feasting. The bells rang through all the city, but the bell-ringers listened and laughed and joined the crowds that filled the streets. Leisure for all on this day of triumph. Their hands would not grow weary this day. Though the bells rang loud, the singing was louder, and after they sang, they danced.
Kallan stood at Andiene’s side as she spoke to the lords of the land and heard them swear their allegiance. And then, when they were done, the bells rang louder, till it seemed that the stone walls of the palace hummed with the sound.
Ring louder yet, Andiene thought, for on this day I have won my kingdom! And the city, that great stone beast crouched on the land, answered her once again.
Outside the walls was the sound of singing and rejoicing. Who would question the people, to ask if they celebrated their Rejin, newly come and conquering, or merely rejoiced in the end of summer? It was wiser not to ask.
“Tomorrow, I will go down to the shore where the fishermen live,” she said. “I may have work to do there.”
“Walking, or carried on a litter?” Kallan asked.
“Walking,” she said. “I have not forgotten so soon those many leagues through mountain and forest and field, which led me to my journey’s end.”
At the far end of the hall, Lenane bowed her dark head over her lute, plucked the strings and sang. “This is the song of Andiene, of how a few went out and conquered a wide kingdom.”
Author’s Note
Thank you for reading this. If you wanted to do me a great favor, you could go to back to Amazon.com, and leave a review—doesn’t have to be long; doesn’t have to be formal. Reader reviews are very important for authors.
If you would like to be notified of new releases by me, click http://eepurl.com/zcvm5 .The next thing I publish will probably be a short story telling about Lenane’s past.
To check out my website and blog, click http://www.ElisaBlaisdell.com
Table of Contents
About this book
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Author’s Note
Table of Contents
About this book
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Author’s Note
Table of Contents
About this book
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Author’s Note