Arlien of being an imposter. Shall we take their word for it, or should I let the good prince in?”
A nebulous, absurd fear seized Brianna. A whispering voice deep in her heart wanted to say no, leave him out with the giants, but the words vanished as soon as they entered her cloudy mind, and she heard herself say, “Do as you think best, Earl.”
Cuthbert bowed. “Then I shall.” He glanced at Avner. “Rest assured that I’ll keep a careful watch on the prince.”
The boy rolled his eyes. “A lot of good that’ll do.”
“It will do more good than your lies.”
With that, the earl motioned to his messenger and scurried toward the gate tower. Avner gestured at the unconscious firbolg.
“Hurry up,” he said. “If Cuthbert’s going to let the prince in, we don’t have much time. Heal him!”
Brianna returned her talisman to her bodyguard’s injured head, then tried to remember the mystical syllables of her healing spell. Nothing came to her except swirls of gray miasma. She pinched her eyes shut, trying to summon the incantation through sheer willpower.
“Well?” Avner asked. “What are you waiting for?”
“The words,” Brianna hissed.
“What words?” the boy demanded. “You never had to wait before!”
The queen opened her eyes. “You’re not helping.”
“Neither are you,” Avner retorted.
The youth fell silent, leaving nothing but the rumble of boulders and the snapping of catapults to disturb Brianna’s concentration. She tried to ignore the war sounds, but each crash loosened her tenuous hold on her own mind. And even when she did succeed in drawing a thought out of the mist, it was the leering image of Prince Arlien, or the sneering face of a frost giant
“Hiatea, I beg you!” Brianna whispered. “Send me the incantation!”
Nothing came. She waited the space of ten crashing boulders, then twenty, then listened to the catapults clatter in reply. A chorus of cheers echoed from the gatehouse, and Brianna assumed a giant had fallen. The queen could not remember how the spell began-could not remember the first syllable, not even the first sound.
Brianna looked at Avner and shook her head. “I’m sorry,” she said. “I told you I wasn’t feeling well.”
“That’s not the reason,” the youth replied. “It’s Arlien. You’re thinking about him, and that’s why you can’t save Tavis.”
Brianna felt her face flush, then saw Avner’s eyes grow wide and angry. “The prince is on my mind,” she admitted. “But not the way you think. I’m not in… I don’t care for…”
Brianna could not bring herself to deny that she loved Arlien. It wasn’t that she did-to the contrary, she feared him-but she couldn’t say the words.
“You’re not what? Not in love with him?” Avner demanded. “You know me better than that I’m no fool.”
“Avner, I’m trying, but all the noise-it’s so hard to concentrate.” Brianna scooped the scout up. “We’ll take him to my chamber, where it’s quiet”
“That won’t do any good!” Avner screamed. There were tears in the boy’s eyes. “You can’t heal anymore!” The youth turned and ran toward the corner tower.
“Avner, wait!” Brianna yelled. “Where are you going?”
“To find someone who can help Tavis!” Avner yelled. “You can’t!”
The boy’s angry words demolished what little strength remained in Brianna’s anguished heart A loud, croaking sob erupted from her throat, then tears began to cascade down her face like rain. She was crying not because of Avner’s anger. Like most youths his age, he was prone to emotional outbursts. Nor was she crying for her injured bodyguard, although deep inside, a voice seemed to be saying she should.
The queen was crying for something even more dear, for something that had been part of her since her childhood, something that she had lost after taking refuge in Cuthbert Castle. Avner was right: There was a time when she would have-could have-healed her bodyguard, no matter how sick she was herself. If she could not cast the spell now, it had little to do with her illness. The queen had lost touch with her goddess.
Brianna had to heal the scout-not for his sake, and not for Avner’s, but for her own. She had to find her way back to Hiatea. To do that, she would need to shut the battle sounds out of her mind and think. She would need to calm herself. She would need to wear her ice diamonds.
16
A volley of boulders slammed into the castle’s windward wall. The cobblestones bucked beneath Avner’s feet, hurling him into the air. In the pit of his stomach he felt the shock wave of a boom so loud he did not even hear it. His ears merely started to ring, then he crashed into one of the gate towers that guarded the entrance to the inner ward. He slid to the ground in an aching, breathless heap and found himself looking across the front bailey to the outer gate.
Earl Cuthbert and several of his men lay in the shadowy passage beneath the archway, struggling to stand after the salvo had knocked them off their feet. A few feet beyond them, an armored figure in burnished battle plate kneeled on the threshold of the gate’s open mandoor, his greaves and vambraces flashing like mirrors as he pushed himself to his feet. Although he wore his visor down, the curved horns rising from the temples of his helm left no doubts about the warrior’s identity.
Prince Arlien had returned.
Avner rolled to his knees and found himself staring at the castle’s windward wall. The ramparts were littered with rubble: shattered merlons, demolished ballistae, flailing wounded, motionless corpses. In one place, where a loose torch had fallen into a pool of spilled oil, a group of terrified soldiers were throwing buckets of water at a creeping tide of fire. The massive curtain had cracked in several places, and the youth saw blue lake water glinting through three of the fissures.
Avner cursed, knowing that the giants would breach the walls all too soon. He glanced back at the rampart where he had left Tavis and Brianna less than a minute earlier. The queen was nowhere in sight She was probably descending the stairs in the corner tower and would soon be carrying the scout across the front bailey toward the inner gate. If Arlien saw them, all would be lost The prince would need merely to delay them until the giants breached the outer curtain-a few minutes from now, at best-then the queen would be captured and Tavis killed.
Avner forced his aching body to rise, then rushed around the corner toward the inner gate. He had to move fast if he was going to win the time he needed to find Basil. The youth did not know what would happen after the verbeeg was free, but if anyone could restore Brianna to her senses, it would be the runecaster.
At the other end of the dark archway, the iron portcullis hung less than six feet from the ground. The main gates were already closed fast, though the mandoor at the bottom remained open. Avner slipped through the portal. On the other side he found two sentries in the White Wolf tabards of Selwyn’s company.
“I have an order from the queen!” he lied. The youth saw no use in trying to explain that Prince Arlien was a spy. Even if the guards believed him, which was doubtful, there would be too many questions. He gestured at the shorter of the two guards and commanded, “Tell Prince Arlien to await her majesty on the windward wall of the outer curtain. The queen will join him shortly. She has a special plan to turn the giants back!”
The guards looked at each other doubtfully. “Turn the giants back?” scoffed the short one. He was a squat man with a curly red beard. “Now I know she’s lost her mind!”
“Shall I tell her you said so?” Avner demanded.
The guard ignored the youth and looked to his tall fellow. “What do you think?”
“He is the queen’s favorite page,” answered the soldier. He fixed a suspicious glare on the youth, then added, “But I thought you’d run off-”
“I’ve returned!” Avner snapped. “And my next message is for Captain Selwyn. Shall I tell him you two elected not to obey a direct order from the queen?”
