Chapter Ten
Alanna sat in her room, trying to read, and to ignore the dark feeling that had settled around her heart like an unwelcome blanket. She was alone for the moment, as George had ridden out of the city that morning for a meeting with one of his agents. He had kissed her good bye as she lay half asleep in their bed, and left a note detailing his plan for her to read when she was properly awake and more agreeable, or at least less bear like.
He knew her so well, her hate of mornings and habit of not sleeping enough so she didn't have to face them. It was why, or partly why, she loved him; he knew her peculiarities and her habits, all her little quirks down to the most minor. But he didn't understand her, so she couldn't truly be in love with him. Alanna had only ever been in love with one person, and that was Jonathon, and there was only one person other than her brother and Jon to ever come close to understanding her, and she'd never had the chance to fall in love with him.
"Jon?" she asked as he entered her room suddenly. "What's wrong?"
Jonathon smiled at her in a surprised sort of way, as if his attention was only half on her. Alanna frowned and then nodded as she glanced out the window and saw the sun.
"Don't you usually lock yourself in an office for this?" she asked. Jonathon blinked a couple of times and then his face cleared and he smiled at her.
"Kally… she… was there. Sort of. I don't really know, but they're alright, and on there way home,"
Alanna spent a few seconds on delight at the later part of his statement and then turned her attention to the earlier part. "Kally?" she asked. "As in your daughter Kalasin who has never ever in her life communed with the voice because she is the closest person ever?"
Jonathon frowned. "It wasn't exactly the same as normal communing," he explained. "I can't explain to you properly because you've never done it, but her voice was there, not her mind, which is what usually happens,"
Alanna chose to ignore is jibe at her choice not to participate in that particular Bazhir ritual, and concerntrated on what he'd told her.
"I'm glad Jon," she said.
He smiled. "So am I," he stepped forward and reached out for her, pulling her close to him. She snuggled under his chin.
"Where's George?" he asked.
"Meeting an agent at Trebond," she replied. "He left me a note this morning. He'll be back tomorrow evening, probably," She looked up at him from under her lashes. He had a mysterious half smile on his face.
"Well then, maybe we should make the most of the time we have now because no one ever interrupts me at this time of night," he suggested. Alanna smiled back at him.
"Maybe we should," she replied, her smile changing into an impish grin. Jonathon laughed, and then tilted her chin up and kissed her. She put her arms around his neck and kissed him back, allowing him to pick her up and carry her towards her bed chamber.
"I love you," he mumbled against her lips as he laid her out on the bed. She knew, and that was all that mattered to her. Wrong was a word that could wait for another day.
The same dream coming again, after fifteen years. It was just the same, the same as it had been when she was six. The faces, some which she knew, some which she didn't; faces from her father's past; ghosts of those who were gone, talking to her, telling her things that she didn't want to know and reading out the frightening lines of time. Then the fire, springing from a woman's eyes and surrounding her, and light, orange and purple and dark bluey-black.
And then darkness, and the faint shape of a room.
The room was full of shadows as Alanna waited there. She heard someone beside her start and turned. Kalasin, hooded and cloaked, carrying a child in her arms, stared at her with frightening blue eyes. "It is time," she whispered.
The clank of metal overwhelmed the echo of her voice, and thousands of armour clad feet marched over the sand.
Heat poured down upon the desert, and the army that waited there, stretching out over miles and miles. Their enemy came upon them, dark and angry, and battle became a reality.
One by one her companions fell away from her as she fought; Gary, Raoul, Coram, Myles, her children, Alan and Thom and Alianne, Daine, Buri, Thayet, and lastly George.
She felt something pulling her, drawing her inexorably closer to something, or someone. She fought for it though she didn't even know what it was.
Alex stood before her, holding her sword Lightening in his hand.
"Take it," he whispered. She slid her blade into his chest and took Lightening from his hand as he fell.
Roger smiled triumphantly, seeming to tower over her. Distantly she heard a voice speaking urgently, and she tried to hear what he was saying.
Jonathon reached out for her hand. "I'm scared," he whispered. She gripped his hand tightly. "Me too,"
Fire, and a light, shining purple and blue, and a somehow orange tinged darkness. Then everything vanished and all that was left was Jonathon's eyes staring into hers.
"Alanna," he whispered.
"Alanna?"
She sobbed and pulled him towards her, clinging frantically. He held her head close to his chest, his fingers pulling the hair up to touch the skin. She held him fiercely and choked as she tried to stop the tears that flowed down her cheeks in rivers.
"No Jon," she whispered finally. "No,"
He just held her tighter until she fell into an exhausted sleep. Then he got up and organised the blankets over her, brushed her hair out of her face and kissed her forehead. He locked the door from the inside as he left, walking towards the library.
Alanna was roused by a strong sick feeling in her gut. She scrambled out of her bed and stumbled into the privy, where she lost whatever little remained in her stomach from the day before's breakfast. That got rid of the sick feeling in her stomach, but did nothing for the one that hung over her heart. It was strange that something so completely out of place could do what it had to her, but she was frightened now, miserable, and not just vaguely uneasy as she had been before. And she couldn't get the images of her vision out of her head. It was as if they had burrowed themselves right into the area of her brain that controlled her vision, so she could see nothing else. The idea of using a hammer and stake of some kind to drive the images from her mind was fairly tempting. It was haunting her actually. Her breath started to come more raggedly and her hands ran over her skin and through her hair. She began to rock to and fro, and then got to her feet and stumbled from the room.
Jonathon found her, kneeling beside Alex's grave on Traitor's hill. She had removed the moss that was growing over the tombstone and found some vaguely flower like things to place at its base. Her hands and head formed a pyramid on the dark earth, and the grass which had grown over the grave had been ripped out. The king bent down on this and rested one hand on her head.
"Do you want to talk?" he asked. She didn't reply, so he settled himself more comfortably on the earth beside her and looked up at the tombstone of his former friend. After a while he glanced down at Alanna again.
"George is back," he remarked conversationally. Alanna seemed to suddenly awake to his presence and jerked away from his hand. He allowed it and then continued.
"Alanna what are you doing here?" he asked.
"I killed him," she replied. "I thought it would be fitting,"
He didn't ask what would be fitting. "People were worried you know," he told her, knowing that she wouldn't really hear anything he was saying, but he was expected to say something.
"He did this you know," she continued. "It wasn't Alex; it was him. This was what he took away from us, the worst thing he ever did,"
"You should eat something," he said.
"I hate him," she informed him, removing her head from the earth and looking him square in the face. She had dirt on her forehead, and he reached out to brush it away, but she shied back.
"You have dirt on your forehead," he told her. She looked at him in blank confusion, and then suddenly laughed and reached up to brush it away.
"I'm sorry Jonathon," she said. "I don't know why I was being like that,"
He smiled. "Well if you're back to normal can I clean you up properly?"
She nodded with a laugh, so he got out his handkerchief and spat on it to acquire moisture, then wiped it over her forehead, ignoring the giggly his method elicited from her.
"Shall we go back?" he asked. "People are looking for you, you know,"
"I think I should explain something first," she told him. "I said something to you a few days ago that surprised us both, and now I've come here where I've never been before in my life, and I don't think you quite understand it,"
"No; you're right; I don't. But if you don't want to explain it, I don't have to understand,"
"No," she turned to him serious. "I want you to,"
"I don't even quite know how to explain it. It was just a matter of memory maybe. Thinking about Roger led to thinking about this, and I've been thinking about him, Alex I mean, a lot. I realised that he wasn't always bad; he was never evil; he was corrupted. But before that he was my friend, and I cared about him, just as I did about you and Gary and Raoul. And we shared something. We were the best, but we never knew who was better. All he wanted to do was find out, and I cheated him of that knowledge, and after… I didn't even think about him. I feel guilty, and I needed to apologize,"
He was shocked, but he tried to keep it off his face. "And have you done that now," rubbing his forehead as if it was covered in dirt, or cobwebs.
"Not really," she replied. "But I've made a start,"
"So are you ready to go back to a world of living people?"
She got to her feet, reached out and took his hand, and pulled him up beside her. "I think so," she said.
They shared a smile, and he leaned down to kiss her forehead, and put his arms around her for a moment.