Armageddon's Children Part 16

"Nonsense! I don't see enough of you. Come in, come in. How is my daughter? Still trying to convince everyone she's all grown up at seventeen? I wish she could learn to take herself a little less seriously. More like you. You always seem so relaxed."

He guided Kirisin over to a couch, sat them both down, and leaned forward conspiratorially. "I would have called you in sooner, but I was stuck in a conference and couldn't break free. All those others who came in first had to deal with one of my aides, but I selfishly kept you for myself. Hope the waiting didn't age you too badly. Tell me how you are."

Conflicted and slightly ashamed of my suspicious mind, Kirisin thought.

Arissen Belloruus always did this to him, and it wasn't made easier in this situation where he was already uncertain about what he had come to do.

"Very well, my lord." He cleared his throat. "I'm here because something happened in the gardens this morning. Something I thought you ought to know about. The Ellcrys spoke to me."

Something changed in the King's expression. It wasn't a dramatic change, one that evidenced astonishment or excitement. It was subtler, more calculating.

It was there for an instant and then gone. Kirisin registered its presence, but was already forging ahead with his story.

"She said she was in danger, my lord. She said the Elves are in danger.

She spoke about a change in the world that would affect all of us. She asked for our help. She wants us to find an Elfstone called a Loden. She is to be placed inside this Stone and taken to a safer place and it is all written down in the histories. I thought someone should tell you, so I decided to-"

"Apparently, my daughter didn't think she should be the one to tell me this?" the King interrupted suddenly.

Kirisin hesitated. "There was some discussion. I volunteered to come tell you because I think something needs to be done."

"But not everyone agrees with you?"

Unfortunately. "No, not everyone does."

Arissen Belloruus arched one eyebrow. "My daughter is one of those who doesn't, I gather?" Kirisin nodded. "Well, then. How many of the others feel the same way she does?"

Kirisin took a deep breath. "All of them."

The King nodded. "Did anyone besides you hear the Ellcrys speak?"

Kirisin shook his head. "No."

"Can you think of any reason why the Ellcrys would speak only to you and not to any of the others?"

Again Kirisin shook his head, not even bothering to answer aloud.

There was a long pause. The King put a hand on his shoulder. "You show the courage of your convictions coming to me like this. But maybe you need to rea.s.sess your position."

"Maybe I do. But I don't think it will change my mind. I know what I heard."

The King smiled. "I can't take this before the members of the High Council and ask for their support without something more substantive than what you've told me. I will do as suggested and have a look at our histories. Perhaps there is something written down about this Loden Elfstone and the three others needed to find it. I will have the keeper of the histories begin right away. If something is found, I will act on it. But if nothing is found, I am not sure what I will be able to do to help."

Kirisin wasn't pleased with this answer, but he knew better than to press things further. The King had gotten to his feet, an indication that the conversation was over. Kirisin rose with him. "Thank you for listening to me," he said, not knowing what else to say.

Arissen Belloruus nodded. "I don't want you to speak of this to anyone until I tell you to do so. We don't want to cause needless panic."

Needless panic. Kirisin nodded. "I won't say anything."

There would be panic enough once they found out the truth about the tree's predictions, he was thinking as he left the room and walked back down the hallway and out the front door. He was already chastising himself for not being more forceful about acting on the tree's plea, even understanding that there was nothing more that he could have done. He had to hope the histories would reveal something of the Loden and the history of the Elfstones so that the King could act.

He was well down the trail and out of sight of the Belloruus quarters when he suddenly realized something. The King had said that perhaps there was something written in the histories about the Loden Elfstone and the three others needed to find it. But Kirisin had not mentioned the three seeking-Stones.

Yet Arissen Belloruus had known about it.

It stopped him in his tracks. He replayed carefully what he had told the King, just to make sure. There was no mistake. He had not mentioned the seekingStones at all. He hadn't had a chance to finish his explanation before the King had interrupted him. The implications of this were so stunning that for a moment he could not make himself believe them. It meant the King had already known about the other Elfstones before Kirisin had told him anything. Which, in turn, meant he had already known about everything else, as well.

How could that be?

His face darkened. Well, it was obvious, of course. Only one other person could have told him. Erisha. Despite her insistence on not going to her father about what had happened, she had left the gardens right after he had and done so anyway. That was why the King had left him sitting there for two hours with nothing to do. He was listening to Erisha and then making up his mind about what he was going to say to Kirisin. The boy stared at the ground in front of him, anger building inside. He had been deliberately deceived, and for the life of him he could not understand why.

Kirisin stood where he was for a long time, thinking it through. This was dangerous ground he was standing on. He knew he had to do something, but if he did the wrong thing he would end up creating more trouble for his family than he could even imagine. He couldn't expose the King's duplicity without embarra.s.sing him. He couldn't brace Erisha about what she had done without revealing "what he knew about her father. He couldn't tell anyone about the game being played without risking the possibility that it would get back to the King.

But he couldn't stand by and do nothing, either. He had taken an oath when he had become a member of the Chosen, and by doing so he had committed himself to helping protect and care for the tree in any way he could.

He walked slowly back to the gardens, thinking it over, trying to decide what to do. Nothing much came to mind. It depressed him to find himself so powerless, but rus.h.i.+ng into things wouldn't help, either. Like it or not, he had to be patient. He had to take his time and figure out what he could do to turn matters around. There was clearly something going on that he didn't understand, and he had to find out what it was. But if he didn't use care in doing so, he risked finding himself shut out of everything.

He arrived back at the gardens and without a word to anyone went back to work. He knew his duties for the day and didn't need to speak to the others if he didn't choose to. It might be better, he decided, if he waited for them to speak to him.

Biat was the first to approach, coming over as soon as he saw him. "What did the King say?" he whispered, giving a quick glance over his shoulder in the direction of Erisha, who was down on her hands and knees digging out weeds across the way.

Kirisin shrugged. "He said he was glad I told him about it and that he would have a look at the histories. He didn't get angry." He paused. "Did I miss anything here?"

"What do you mean?"

"Well, was anything else said about this after I left? Erisha was pretty mad."

Biat chuckled. "Erisha was furious. But she dropped the matter right away and put us all to work. We've been at it ever since. What took you so long?"

"Did Erisha say where she was going when she went after me?" he asked, ignoring the question.

Biat stared at him. "What are you talking about? Erisha didn't go after you. She never left the garden. No one did."

Kirisin bent over his digging implement so that the other boy couldn't see his expression. "My mistake. I thought I saw her." What is going on? "You had better get back to work. We'll talk about it later."

Biat moved away, leaving him with what were now much darker thoughts. If Erisha hadn't talked to her father, how had he found out what the tree had told Kirisin?

The answer came to him almost instantly. Arissen Belloruus had learned about it much earlier, even before this morning.

Though she chooses not to hear me, you must listen.

He sat up slowly and stared off into s.p.a.ce. She. He remembered the tree's words now, how they had seemed an accusation that lacked any basis. But they made perfect sense if this morning's attempt to seek help from the Chosen wasn't the first, if the Ellcrys had spoken to someone earlier.

To Erisha.

His gaze drifted across the clearing and settled on his cousin. She was their leader, the foremost among the Chosen. If the tree had spoken to anyone before him, she would have spoken to Erisha. She would have revealed her fears and asked for Erisha's help, and the girl would have told her father. That was how he would have known about the seeking-Stones.

He went back to weeding while he fought to contain his anger and channel it into something more productive than crossing over to wring Erisha's neck.

Could it really have happened that way? If so, why? It didn't make any sense.

Erisha might have told her father, but why would she keep it secret from the Chosen? For that matter, why would they both keep secret the tree's perceived danger? Everyone knew how important she was as protector of the Elves.

He knew that he was going to have to find out. But that meant getting the truth out of Erisha without having her run to her father. He took a deep breath.

He had no idea how he was going to do that.

He continued with his work, trying unsuccessfully to come up with a plan.

He was still trying when she suddenly appeared at his elbow.

"What happened with my father?" she asked perfunctorily, kneeling next to him. She brushed back her long, dusky hair. "What did he say when you told him about the tree?"

Something in the way she asked it set his teeth on edge, and as quickly as that, he made his decision. He looked up at her so that he could watch her face.

"He already knew all about it," he said.

Her fine, delicate features tightened, and she flushed. Her gaze dropped, and then lifted again to meet his. "What do you mean?"

He knew instantly that he had been right in his suspicions. The Ellcrys had spoken to her before this morning, and instead of confiding in the other Chosen she had gone to her father. Both of them had been hiding the truth ever since.

"You know what I mean," he said quietly, his eyes locked on hers. He could see the mix of anger and fear mirrored there; she was visibly distraught. "The Ellcrys spoke to you before today and you told your father about it, but you didn't tell us."

"That's not true." She tried to look away.

"Then how did your father know what I was going to say before I said it?

He knew all about the Loden and the Elfstones and the histories. He knew about everything, Erisha." He paused. "What is this all about?"

Her lips tightened, and she looked as if she might cry. He thought for just a moment that she was going to tell him what he wanted to know. But then she regained her composure, and her face closed down.

"You imagine things, Kirisin," she whispered furiously. "You make up stories to suit your own purposes. You have a talent for it. I think you had better go back to your work and let me do the same."

She scrambled to her feet. "You better keep these wild stories to yourself, too, or I won't be responsible for what happens to you!"

She stalked away, arms stiff at her sides, shoulders rigid, long hair swaying. She did not look back. Kirisin waited until she had knelt down again to continue her work, then quit watching. So much for not acting precipitously. He wondered how long it would take for her to tell her father. He wondered what would happen to him then. It didn't bear thinking on too closely. If the King determined to keep what the Ellcrys had revealed a secret, he would do whatever he felt was necessary to keep Kirisin from interfering.

It was a very long day after that. He worked in the gardens all morning, then spent the afternoon studying lessons on caring for plants and trees with old Willum. He was close enough to Erisha the entire time for either to call over to the other, but he never said one word to her, nor she to him. He tried to think of what he should do next, but couldn't come up with anything. It seemed he had burned all his bridges by telling her what he knew. If he now told anyone else, she would deny everything. Would the other Chosen back him up?

Maybe, but he couldn't be sure. They hadn't been too eager to back him up so far. They were uncertain of him and would not be quick to want to take a stand.

He could talk to Biat, he decided. Of all of them, Biat was the one most likely to support him.

But when the day ended, he didn't say anything to Biat. He left alone and walked home through the trees without a word to any of them. He found he didn't know exactly what he wanted to say or how he wanted to say it. He wasn't sure what he should do, and he needed time to think it over. So he walked out to one of his favorite places, a promontory overlooking the River Orish, and sat down with his back to one of the old-growth cedars.

He wished Simralin were home. She would know what to do. Or at least she would have an opinion. He could talk to his parents, but they might decide to confront Arissen about it, and what happened to them then would be his fault.

Worse, they might decide he was confused or mistaken. He was just a boy, after all. Boys like him were confused or mistaken much of the time. Every adult knew that.

But he had to do something. The Ellcrys was in peril, and time was running out. If she didn't receive the help she was asking for, she might perish. It didn't seem that anyone else was going to do anything if he didn't. So he had better come up with a plan.

He sat there until dusk, looking for such a plan. By the time it was dark and he started home, he still didn't have one.

Chapter SIXTEEN.

IT WAS LATE in the day, the light turned gray and the world become a place of shadows and mysterious sounds, when Angel Perez finally found what she was looking for. She had marched the compound children and their protectors north all afternoon through a haze of smoke and ash to get clear of the city. She had stopped when rest was necessary and once for a quick bite to eat from their meager supplies, but otherwise she had kept them moving. It was hard on the children, especially the little ones, many of whom had to be carried as the march wore on. But stopping was dangerous. They were still too close to the creatures who sought their annihilation, the demons and the once-men and especially that old man. She didn't know if he had discovered yet that she had escaped him again. She didn't know if a pursuit had been mounted. Yet she knew better than to a.s.sume anything but the worst, and took no chances.

So they walked out of Anaheim and into the Chino Hills, a distance of more than twenty miles, a march that left them footsore and weary and ready for sleep by the time they reached the scouts from the guerrilla force who were waiting to lead them on. She had formed the unit eight months earlier, when she knew that Robert was gone and the compounds east of the mountains had fallen. She had culled them from the Los Angeles compounds, men and women who believed that fortresses could no longer protect them and that their way of life was ended and another way was needed. She had joined them together with a ragtag band of outcasts and drifters that knew something about staying alive outside the compounds, men and women who had learned how to survive in the open. She had prepared them for what would happen and the exodus of the children she would try to save. She had given to them the responsibility for guiding those children north, protecting them on their journey, and finding them safe haven in another place.

Including the ones she had brought with her from the Anaheim compound, the children now numbered more than a thousand.

The men and women she had waiting had come with trucks scavenged from all over the city and repaired, vehicles that could transport the children to the rendezvous point farther north and well outside the city proper, where the other children and adults were gathered. Once joined, the entire force would begin the long trek toward San Francisco-although Angel had not yet decided if that was to be their final destination.

There were good reasons it should not be. The army of demons and once-men, now that they were finished with the compounds of Southern California, would come after them. Going to San Francisco only postponed the inevitable. She could not envision saving them all a second time if she allowed them to take refuge in the compounds there. But if not there, then where? Should they go farther north, all the way to Seattle and the Pacific Northwest? Would they be any safer there?

Could they do anything to better prepare for the time they did battle with their enemies? Could she expect a different result when they did?

Just thinking of it drained her. It left her with an unshakable conviction that they were running out of time and s.p.a.ce and in the end nothing would save them. The human race was being ground down, its once seemingly inexhaustible populace steadily reduced from millions to hundreds of thousands to thousands.

She had no idea how many were left, only that the numbers were diminis.h.i.+ng with every sunrise. It was a trend that must be reversed or the unthinkable would come to pa.s.s and humanity would be wiped out. But she had no idea how to accomplish this other than to save the ones she could and hope that something turned the tide in their favor.

So much had gone wrong that it was difficult for her to imagine anything going right. The Word had once held the upper hand in this battle, but now everything favored the Void. How could that have happened when everyone had been warned of the possibility and the need to guard against it? The answer was simple, of course. Not enough of those warned had believed.

She turned her small charges over to those waiting, standing back while they were loaded into the trucks. She took a moment to look back at the city, searching for any indication of a pursuit. But she saw only the encroaching shroud of nightfall. She imagined she could still hear the cries of the wounded and dying, but she knew by now that she was only hearing them in her mind. She wished she could find a way to shut those cries out, to silence them. But she knew from experience that she couldn't.

The trucks were loaded and beginning to pull away. They were old and jerry-rigged and ran on batteries that were solar-charged. They would convey the children far enough to get them clear of the city, but not much farther. It was four hundred miles to San Francisco, and that was too far to walk. The batteries would have to be replaced or recharged. She hoped some thought had been given to this in her absence. She hoped preparations had been made. But there was nothing she could do about it now. Too tired to think further on the matter, she climbed into the back of the last of the trucks, curled up in a corner, and quickly fell asleep.

SHE SURVIVED A fitful night of rough road bounces and grinding truck noises amid the small distressed sounds from the children who shared her quarters. The cessation of the truck's movement coupled with the sudden stillness woke her at daybreak. She was stiff and sore and, for a moment, disoriented. She had been dreaming of the compounds and the a.s.sault of the oncemen. The sights and sounds of battle were still fresh in her mind, a wild mix of horror-inducing struggles that left the smell of death thick and pungent in her nostrils. It felt as if it had just happened, and she had just escaped it.

She climbed down from the truck, greeted a few of the guerrillas who came up to her, and waved good morning to Helen Rice, who was already organizing into groups the children she had brought out of the Anaheim compound. Angel stood watching for a moment, filled with a sense of sadness she could not dismiss. It was all so futile, so hopeless. They were saving these children for what? For a chance to live? But what sort of chance were they going to be given if nothing in the larger picture changed?

They were in the guerrilla camp now, a wooded refuge that allowed entry and exit from several directions and could be watched over from a dozen high points close at hand. The defenders were heavily armed and organized. She did not think they would be caught off guard, but did not intend to linger long enough to test the possibility. By midday, they would be traveling north to wherever she decided they must go. They would do so because she was certain that the old man was coming after them with his armies and his weapons and his insatiable l.u.s.t to see them destroyed.

Or, more particularly, to see her destroyed.

She thought about that for a moment, walking away from the encampment, moving back into the trees where she could be alone to think. The real target of his efforts, of this hunter of Knights of the Word, was herself. His purpose as a servant of the Void was to eliminate all of the remaining Knights, and she was likely one of the last. Her battle with that female demon today demonstrated how intent the old man was on finding and eliminating her. He would not stop because today's attack had failed. He would come after her again, from a different direction perhaps, in a different way. He would come and keep coming until one of them was dead.

For just a moment, she considered turning the tables on him. She considered going after him before he could come after her. He Would not be expecting that. She might catch him unawares. She might kill him before he even realized he was in danger. The thought was immensely satisfying. It would atone for all the lives the old man had taken, all the anguish he had caused, all the evil he had perpetrated. It would be retribution well deserved.

It was also a pipe dream of the first order. Johnny would have been quick to point that out, and she knew enough to be quick to do so in his absence.