The Sapphire Rose

‘None, Priestess – only me. I’m too crippled to travel, and I can hardly see. They left me behind.’

‘We seek another group of travellers – four men and a woman. One of the men has white hair. Another looks like an animal. Have you seen them?’

‘Please don’t kill me.’

‘Then speak.’

‘Some people passed through here yesterday. They may have been the ones you’re looking for. I can’t say for sure because they didn’t come close enough to the fire for me to see their faces. I could hear them talking, though. They said they were going to Aka and from there to the capital. They stole Tassalk’s boat.’ The hunchback sat up on the floor, clasped his arms about him and began to rock back and forth rhythmically, moaning to himself.

‘He’s crazy,’ Tynian said quietly to Sparhawk.

‘Yes,’ Sparhawk agreed sadly.

‘All gone,’ the hunchback crooned. ‘All gone off to die for Azash. Kill the Elenes, then die. Azash loves death. All die. All die. All die for Azash.’

‘We’re going to take a boat,’ Sephrenia cut through his ravings.

‘Take. Take. Nobody will come back. All die, and Azash will eat them.’

Sephrenia turned her back on him and returned to where the others stood. ‘We’ll leave here now,’ she said in a steely tone.

‘What’s going to happen to him?’ Talen asked her, his voice subdued. ‘He’s all by himself here and nearly blind.’

‘He’ll die,’ she replied in an abrupt tone of voice.

‘All alone?’ Talen’s voice was half-sick.

‘Everybody dies alone, Talen.’ She resolutely led them from the stinking tavern.

Once she was outside, however, she broke down and wept.

Sparhawk went to his saddlebags and took out his map. He studied it with a frown. ‘Why would Martel go to Aka?’ he muttered to Tynian. ‘It’s leagues out of his way.’

‘There’s a road from Aka to Zemoch,’ Tynian said, pointing at the map. ‘We’ve been pushing him hard, and his horses are probably nearly exhausted.’

‘Maybe that’s it,’ Sparhawk agreed. ‘And Martel’s never been very fond of going across country.’

‘Will we follow the same route?’

‘I don’t think so. He doesn’t know much about boats, so he’ll wallow around out there in the gulf for several days. Kurik’s a sailor though, so he can take us straight across. We should be able to make it from the east shore to the capital in about three days. We can still get there before he does. Kurik,’ he called, ‘let’s go and find a boat.’

Sparhawk was leaning against the rail of the large, tar-smeared scow Kurik had selected. The surface winds had swung briefly around to the west, and their ship sped across the choppy waters of the gulf towards the east. Sparhawk reached inside his tunic and took out Ehlana’s letter.

‘Beloved,’ it began. ‘If all has gone well, you’re very close to the Zemoch border by now – and I must believe that all has gone well or else I shall go mad. You and your companions will succeed, dearest Sparhawk. I know that as surely as if God himself had told it to me. Our lives are strangely controlled, my love. We were destined to love each other – and to marry. We had no real choice in this, I think – though I would certainly have chosen no other. Our meeting each other and our marriage were all a part of some grander design – even as was the gathering of your companions. Who in all the world could be more perfectly suited to aid you than the great men who ride with you? Kalten and Kurik, Tynian and Ulath, Bevier and dear Berit, so young and so very brave, all of them have joined with you in love and common purpose. You surely cannot fail, my beloved, not with such men at your side. Hasten, my champion and husband. Take your invincible companions to the lair of our ancient foe and confront him there. Let Azash tremble, for the Knight Sparhawk comes with Bhelliom in his fist, and not all the powers of Hell can prevail against him. Hasten, my beloved, and know that you are armed not merely with Bhelliom but with my love as well.

I love you,

Ehlana.’

Sparhawk read through the letter several times. His bride, he saw, had a very strong tendency towards oratory. Even her letters had the tone of a public address. Stirring though the message was, he might have preferred something a bit less polished, something more genuine. Although he knew that the emotions she expressed came from her heart, her fondness for the well-turned phrase somehow intruded itself between them. ‘Oh well,’ he sighed. ‘She’ll probably relax as we get to know each other better.’

Then Berit came up the deck, and Sparhawk remembered something. He read through the letter again and made a quick decision. ‘Berit,’ he called, ‘do you suppose I could have a word with you?’

‘Of course, Sir Sparhawk.’

‘I thought you might like to see this.’ Sparhawk handed him the letter.

Berit looked at it. ‘But this is personal, Sir Sparhawk,’ he objected.

‘It concerns you, I think. It may help you to deal with a problem you’ve been having lately.’

Berit read through the letter, and a strange expression came over his face.

‘Does that help at all?’ Sparhawk asked him.

Berit flushed. ‘Y-you knew?’ he stammered.

Sparhawk smiled a bit wryly. ‘I know it may be hard for you to believe, my friend, but I was young once myself. What’s happened to you has probably happened to every young man who’s ever lived. In my case, it was when I first went to court. She was a young noblewoman, and I was absolutely certain that the sun rose and set in her eyes. I still think of her on occasion – rather fondly, actually. She’s older now, of course, but her eyes still make me weak when she looks at me.’

‘But you’re married, Sir Sparhawk.’

‘That’s fairly recent, and it has nothing whatsoever to do with what I felt for that young noblewoman. You’ll waste a lot of dreams on Ehlana, I expect. We all do that in these cases, but maybe it makes better men of us.’

‘Surely you won’t tell the queen.’ Berit seemed shocked.

‘Probably not, no. It doesn’t really concern her, so why should I worry her about it? The point I’m trying to make here, Berit, is that what you’re feeling is a part of growing up. Everybody goes through the same thing – if he’s lucky.’