A man loomed into view. He uttered a gasp of shock, or a murmured curse, or perhaps a prayer.
“Alain?” He knelt beside him but didn’t touch him, not yet. Instead he dragged the heavy chains off his body. He was weeping. “I heard, lad, but I had to see for myself. They said you’d gone over the ridge. And that storm! Ai, Lady. There’s at least three dead in the village and I haven’t been back home yet to see how Bel and the others fared. My God. What man could be so cruel as to treat another man in this way?”
He cracked open his eyes. “Father?”
Henri looked much older; he had many more lines on his face, and his hair was gray. But the face was so blessedly familiar, so beloved. There were tears on the merchant’s cheeks.
“Ai, God, lad, can you forgive me? Even though you weren’t the old count’s son, you never deserved this. I raised you better than to lie and cheat in such a way. I suppose the old count chose for himself and how could you say him nay? There was a girl he’d bedded who bore a stillborn child near or about when you was born. He might have thought otherwise, might have insisted you were his. Old sorrows take men that way sometimes. I should have trusted you. I should have known you better. That’s how I failed you, Son.”
The words spilled out in a rush as strong as the tide, leaving Alain stranded and out of breath. He was still dazzled and shaken and stricken, and the hounds were laying half on top of him, pressing as close as they could.
Henri frowned, wiped away tears, and spoke again. “Off, you brutes!”
Amazingly the hounds crept back meekly, their soft growls more like groans of protest. Hesitant, as if he wasn’t sure he had the right to touch him, Henri laid a hand on Alain’s arm. “Here, lad. Come now, get up. Lean on me.”
With help, Alain was able to stand, although his legs were shaky. The sea churned, the water a foamy, dirty gray, and the islands were half hidden within the murky haze. The ruins had been washed clean by the tide, and debris littered the old shoreline, but the strangest sight of all was the new inlet carved out where Dragonback Ridge had once risen. Trees lay tumbled like so many scattered sticks down a ragged, rocky slope that was cut, where the earth met the water, into channels separated by the heaps of dirt and rock that had sprayed out into the sound when the dragon woke. Along the curve of the bay, distant and mostly obscured by haze, he saw the tiny cottages and longhouses marking Osna village up on its rise overlooking the strand. The village was more or less intact as far as he could tell from this distance.
Henri stared, too. The hounds sat patiently. “I’ve never seen such a night as that,” said the merchant in a quavering voice. “That dragon come alive. That tempest. That wave off the sea. It took Mistress Garia’s granddaughter with it. Maybe it’s the end of days, after all. Maybe so.”
“It is the end,” said Alain, surprised at how steady his voice was. He glanced down at his naked body and was shocked to see how wasted and thin he’d become. “It is the beginning, too. There’ll be hard times to come. But I pray the folk of Osna village have faced the worst. I pray they will be spared any greater hardships.”
Henri looked at him searchingly, and with an odd expression of respect. “Do you know of this? Do you know if it were God’s hands that brushed us?”
“I know of it. It was humankind caused this, not God.”
The merchant reached up and wiped at his cheek, then frowned. “What’s this mark on your face? You hadn’t such a birthmark before. Is it a scar? It looks like a rose.”
The Lady’s Rose. For so long he had misunderstood what it was—or maybe the Lady of Battles had. Maybe she had misled him. Maybe the Lady of Battles was not his patron but his enemy.
“It’s the Rose of Healing, Father. It’s to remind me of how much there is to do. Adica didn’t mean to cause so much harm, but now someone has to try to pick up the pieces. I’ll do it. I must. But if I could just sleep a little first. If I could just eat something….”
“Bel will have my head! You’ve been starved and treated no better than a wild dog. Here, now, come along.” He began walking. Alain had to lean on him to stay upright, but it was easy enough; Henri had a strong arm. “I’ve a cloak to cover you and a horse for you to ride. You look too ill and worn to walk so far.”
“Where are we going?”
“Home, Son. We’re going home.”
help, Alain was able to stand, although his legs were shaky. The sea churned, the water a foamy, dirty gray, and the islands were half hidden within the murky haze. The ruins had been washed clean by the tide, and debris littered the old shoreline, but the strangest sight of all was the new inlet carved out where Dragonback Ridge had once risen. Trees lay tumbled like so many scattered sticks down a ragged, rocky slope that was cut, where the earth met the water, into channels separated by the heaps of dirt and rock that had sprayed out into the sound when the dragon woke. Along the curve of the bay, distant and mostly obscured by haze, he saw the tiny cottages and longhouses marking Osna village up on its rise overlooking the strand. The village was more or less intact as far as he could tell from this distance.
Henri stared, too. The hounds sat patiently. “I’ve never seen such a night as that,” said the merchant in a quavering voice. “That dragon come alive. That tempest. That wave off the sea. It took Mistress Garia’s granddaughter with it. Maybe it’s the end of days, after all. Maybe so.”
“It is the end,” said Alain, surprised at how steady his voice was. He glanced down at his naked body and was shocked to see how wasted and thin he’d become. “It is the beginning, too. There’ll be hard times to come. But I pray the folk of Osna village have faced the worst. I pray they will be spared any greater hardships.”
Henri looked at him searchingly, and with an odd expression of respect. “Do you know of this? Do you know if it were God’s hands that brushed us?”
“I know of it. It was humankind caused this, not God.”
The merchant reached up and wiped at his cheek, then frowned. “What’s this mark on your face? You hadn’t such a birthmark before. Is it a scar? It looks like a rose.”
The Lady’s Rose. For so long he had misunderstood what it was—or maybe the Lady of Battles had. Maybe she had misled him. Maybe the Lady of Battles was not his patron but his enemy.
“It’s the Rose of Healing, Father. It’s to remind me of how much there is to do. Adica didn’t mean to cause so much harm, but now someone has to try to pick up the pieces. I’ll do it. I must. But if I could just sleep a little first. If I could just eat something….”
“Bel will have my head! You’ve been starved and treated no better than a wild dog. Here, now, come along.” He began walking. Alain had to lean on him to stay upright, but it was easy enough; Henri had a strong arm. “I’ve a cloak to cover you and a horse for you to ride. You look too ill and worn to walk so far.”
“Where are we going?”
“Home, Son. We’re going home.”