The Fight for Dosbara

Author's note: The original of this story was 3000 words, entered for an online competition in which it won third prize. The characters were so intriguing, I needed to revisit them, and expanded the story to three times its original length.

The howling sneacht storm raged outside. Eerie ululations echoed through the cavern as the lone inhabitant, tall, brooding, with ebony hair, pale gold skin, and jade green eyes the colour of Dosbara's sky, huddled over his small fire for warmth. The wailing through the cave was so loud, Frayne nearly didn't here the soft footfall behind him until it was too late.
Swivelling rapidly on his haunches, he pounced like a sheeata, bringing the mysterious intruder to the ground with a crash. He grabbed the thin neck with both hands, and began to squeeze mightily.
But he soon noticed that the muffled stranger was not putting up the least resistance, and he began to ease his grip on the soft throat. He moved his weight off the thin form, and straddling the body around the middle, he tugged the enveloping hood back from the golden eyes and pale blue face.
Then he began to laugh, for the first time in the gods only knew how many bliain.
"Astraea! Did you father not have any better assassin available? Or did he think I would once again fall prey to your charms?" he spat.
Not bothering to wait for a reply, Frayne tore a strip off the end of his thick cloak with his knife. He used it to bind her hands tightly in front of her before rising from her stomach.
Astraea lay there too stunned to even protest. Frayne watched her narrowly as she lay prone on the ground.
But when she made no move against him, and simply lay there, he impatiently tugged her nearer to the warmth of the meagre fire. Would-be assassin or no, he couldn't help remembering Astraea fondly. A lifetime ago, she had been a vibrant young girl, the noble daughter of his father's advisor.
He could see from her lined and wizened face that the bliain had not been kind to her. No doubt she had also had a long journey from the magnificent city of Bezaran to this storm-ravaged place. Even if she had been sent by Tordis, she was just another a victim of her father's insane ambition, as he himself had been. He could not kill her, much as he might once have wished to.
A sudden thought set Frayne charging down the long passageway leading to the frozen wasteland outside the cave. At the mouth of the cavern he paused cautiously and scanned the frigid purple landscape, looking for the slightest movement.
But all he could see was a coinin, its long ears twitching as it moved from rock to rock in search of food. Tugging out his small bow and arrow from his quiver, which he kept by the entrance for just such occasions, he let one small stone-tipped arrow fly. Then he waited with baited breath.
The sharp squeal of pain made him smile in relief. Real meat at last. A man could only go so long living on moss and fas on oiche. The savoury plant might only take one night to grow in other parts of Dosbara, but here on the frozen tundra of Novers, they took at least a week, and the colder the weather, the slower their growth.
It had been bitterly cold for the past few lae, he recalled as he wrapped his furs around him more securely and dared to venture out into the open. He had not been able to gather the moin, red hunks of petrified wood, from the haunted forest for at least a seachtain. He would have to get his kill quickly, before the swirling lilac sneacht blown about by the violent winds buried it entirely.
Frayne ran out of the cave to grab the coinin carcass, and then hurried back inside, scanning the horizon once more for any sign of Tordis' men. But it appeared for the moment that Astraea had come alone.
He went back down the long passage, dusting the sneacht off himself as he went. He searched every crack and crevice of the entrance, and then scanned the cave carefully in the dim firelight, before at last becoming convinced that Astraea had come by herself.
Once Frayne was safely in front of the fire again, he took his knife out of its sheath. He began to skin the lilac fur from the coinin's small plump body, and ran a stick through it to suspend it over the fire, where it began to crackle and hiss juicily.
Then he looked over at his dark-haired companion, still silently studying him with her golden eyes.
She had by now caught her breath after his jarring attack, and declared quietly, "I am not an assassin, Prince Frayne, son of King Calder, he of blessed memory. Nor does my father, Tordis the god, know I am here."
The word 'god' was uttered with such obvious contempt, that Frayne felt his heart lurch in his bosom. Joy and fear mingled in an instant. He could not remember the last time he had spoken to another living creature.
That it should be Astraea, of all people, was a miracle. And now her words struck a chord of delight so poignant, he had to take a deep breath to steady himself.
But the voice of reason intruded upon his joyous thoughts jarringly. No, it wasn't possible. Frayne certainly hadn't managed to stay alive for the past ten bliain by being foolish. Astraea's coming here had to be a trick. If Tordis had indeed proclaimed himself a god, it would be all the more reason for him to send an assassin after Frayne. The prophecies regarding the young prince one day getting revenge for his father's murder were too explicit. Tordis would never have been convinced by Astraea or his sagart Cithe to believe that Frayne could be permitted to return home to the rich red lands of Bezaran.
Frayne saw a vision of his lovely former home in his mind's eye. It was a stark contrast to the wastes of Novers. Here there was nothing except black boulders and purple sneacht. In Bezaran, his silver palace of Wixam stood in the midst of the sacred blue mountains of Tingrith, on the shores of the jade ocean of Dofras.
"Then why are you here? No one ever visits this barren wasteland any longer, not since Tordis cursed the land and doomed my entire muintir to a slow lingering death."
"It was foolish for you to remain here, ard ri Frayne. Do you not realise how easy it will be for Tordis to find you?" she reproached him mildly in a thin, reedy voice.
Frayne ignored her flattering title of ard ri. He was king only of the coinin in this frigid cave. "Why should he seek me? Alone, dispossessed, I have lived here untouched for the past ten bliain. Why should he bother after all this time?"
"Because the court astrologers have said the portents are all in place now. At the end of ten lae and oiche, the four gealachs circling Dosbara will align in the heavens just as Ballor the great sagart predicted. Then it will be time for you to reclaim what is your own."
Frayne shook his head angrily. "The second half of Ballor's prophecy claimed that one of Tordis' offspring would kill him. But I am no fool. Nor is Tordis. He is the most superstitious man I have ever met. He should have killed you long ago.
"No, he is trying to use you to murder me. So don't waste my time with your talk of portents. I will not harm you, Astraea, but life here is hard, as you can well imagine. You will need to work to earn your keep until I decide what to do with you."
"But ard ri, there is little time..."
Frayne scowled down at her. "You waste your words. I will not listen to any more of your lies. I know you betrayed me ten bliain ago. You will not get the chance to entrap me again. Now come, help me gather some moin. The fire will be out soon, and we will freeze in no time. In any case, I have a great aversion to eating raw coinin."
He grasped her under her elbows and tugged her to her feet. Gripping the cloth strip which bound her wrists firmly, he hauled her to the entryway, where he wrapped her furs tightly around her, and then put up her hood.
He made the same adjustments with his own clothing, observing as he did so, "At least the winds seem to be dying down. And the sneacht seems to have almost disappeared for now. We must make the most of this lull in the weather to gather in a good supply. I have been stuck in the cave for seven lae now. Who knows when the storms will start again. "
He handed her a creel, before lifting one himself.
Shouldering his bow and quiver, he declared, "Don't try to run. There are deep pits from this cave over to the forest. The fall might not kill you, but the earc will."
Astraea shuddered at the thought of being devoured by the scaly, sharp-fanged monsters which lurked in the underground caverns of Novers, and followed along behind Frayne obediently.
They trudged up a steep slope on the far side of the small valley in which Frayne's cave was hidden. At the top of the hill she could see a black forest, the little foliage on the hardy plants all pitted and gnarled. She remarked as she approached, "I can see why they call it the haunted forest. You would almost think the stumps were the tormented souls of the dead. It is even more terrible than you described it.
"Terrible it may be, but it keeps me supplied with moin. The forest has indeed proved a strange friend to me, when all others have cast me aside, abandoned me, betrayed me, or been killed."
As she began to fill her creel with moin hurriedly, struggling against the biting winds, she asserted once more, "I have never betrayed you, Frayne. I loved you. I could never have harmed you. I mean you no harm now, you must believe that. I have told you the truth. It is just as the great sagart Ballor predicted. The four gealach will line up. I have seen them with my own eyes. There are four gelach in sky at oiche, all glowing silver just like your great palace Wixam. They are almost perfectly in alignment.
"As for my father's superstitions, you are correct. All of my brothers were sacrificed to the sun god when Tordis declared himself a deity five bliain ago. I have only escaped death by pretending to have lost my wits. Take a careful look at me, Frayne. Do I look like a pampered young ardban?"
Frayne remarked to himself that her face was as lovely as he remembered, even if older and a great deal thinner. He would have turned back to his work had she not stayed him with a sharp glance.
Now Astraea held out her pale blue hands, full of warts, blisters and callouses.
Frayne stared, wide-eyed, before shaking his head and laughing wryly. "They could simply be illusions to trick me."
"Aye, but illusions cannot be touched."
Astraea grasped his hand firmly in her own, pressing her coarse flesh into his hardened palm.
He stared down at the hand, stunned.
"But how...."
"Cithe the sagart would not let my father kill me. After you had gone, I pretended to lose my wits, wandered around disheveled, filthy, despised. Perhaps I actually did lose my reason, for I was beside myself with grief over your father's murder, and what happened to the rest of your muintir.
"But all the while I have watched and waited, kept myself alive for just this moment in time. The mad are blessed by the gods. Feigning madness was the only way to stay alive. I have been forced to work in the kitchens, on the farms, even in the psill mines, but I have survived to come to you now and help you."
Frayne laughed bitterly again. "My younger brothers all died in the mines after they were captured and blinded. No one can survive there. Just gather the moin and be quiet! I refuse to listen to any more of your lies!"
Astraea drew herself up to her full height proudly. She raised both her bound hands, and parted the two edges of her heavy sheeata fur garment, revealing the gently rounded tops of her breasts, covered only by a thin diaphanous fabric. Though her hands and face were still blue, Frayne could quite clearly see her skin glowing green through the filmy shirt. And through the emerald skin he could see her bones glimmering, stark white, skeletal.
Frayne's eyes widened in horror. "Gods above! You should be lying down, not out here gathering moin. The end cannot be long for you!"
All his doubts about Astraea's presence evaporated in the face of her obviously terminal condition.
Astraea shrugged, and tugged her garments back into place. "I will rest when it is all over. We have but ten lae. I shall rest and eat, and then we must go, Frayne. Your destiny awaits. If I am to die, I wish to know that my life and death have had some purpose. I have longed to free Dosbara from Tordis' oppression ever since your banishment. Please help me achieve this before I go to the gods."
Frayne rested on hand upon her shoulder comfortingly. "I must confess, I too have wondered about the purpose of my life. I have remained here letting my people suffer for the past ten bliain, when I could have...."
Frayne glanced under her hood to meet her earnest gaze, and dropped a few last hunks of moin into his creel. "It is far too cold out here to be gathering moin. Let us go back."
"If I am right about the four gealach aligning, then you need never return here again to gather moin."
A grimace marred Frayne's handsome pale gold visage. "If I do not succeed in winning my kingdom back, I shall never return, or gather fuel anywhere."
"You will win, "Astraea predicted softly. "You have me now to help you."
Frayne untied Astraea's wrists, and stooped to pick up the first creel. She offered to help with the second, but he lifted it easily with his other hand, and left her to follow along behind.
Once they were back inside the cave, he immediately led her over to the fire, which he banked up with moin. Then he brought over his best coinin-fur cloak, and wrapped it around her.
"Turn the spit. I shall be back in a moment."
He went to fetch some water from the small cascade which trickled down the back of the cave. He filled his skin, and then began to gather up food and rugs in preparation for their journey.
Astraea watched him patiently. "Take only the essentials. I have two eacha waiting, loaded with provisions, at the edge of Novers. Even with them, we shall have to ride hard to reach Bezaran in time."
"In time for what, exactly?"
"The alignment, of course."
"What am I meant to do once the four gealach are aligned?"
She shook her head. "I'm not sure. Ballor was never that precise," Astraea admitted wearily.
"I'm convinced he was vague on purpose, so everyone would think him wise."
They both laughed at their shared memories of the sagart, who had served the kings of Dosbara for eons.
Astraea huddled so close to the fire that Frayne could smell singed sheeata fur. He took over the duty of turning the spit for her so that she could lie down flat on the ground. But she did not fall asleep, merely looked at him as though she couldn't bear to let him out of her sight.
A short while later, he tested the meat with his knife, and took it from the fire. Frayne snapped a leg off the coinin and offered it to Astraea.
She shook her head. "I can no longer eat. But water would be welcome."
Frayne began to lose his own appetite then, thinking of what his beloved must be suffering. How much she had suffered to come and find him in this desolate place. But he forced himself to bite into the leg and chew. He would need all his strength for the journey, for both their sakes.
Astraea drank deeply from the skin, and waited patiently for him to finish his meal. Once she saw that he had eaten his fill, she rose. "Come, Frayne. It is time."
Frayne followed as she made her way assuredly through the frozen rocks and boulders in the direction of the now-setting sun, which glowed redly against the emerald sky, casting long shadows as they trudged onward through the purple sneacht and ice.
Frayne tried to pass the time in conversation, explaining various landmarks along the way. He recalled with a lump in his throat how his father had done the same for him many years before, when he had brought him to Novers for the first time to learn of his people and heritage.
Calder, like all the ard ri of Dosbara, had not been born to the role, but had been selected as a young man. At the time it had been predicted that his own son too would one day become ard ri, a rare blessing from the gods indeed. Only Ballor had never been certain which of Calder's five sons it was to be. Therefore they had been raised for part of their time away from the court, in Calder's own province.
Novers had not always been such a desolate place, Frayne recalled bitterly.
He couldn't quite keep the edge from his tone when he asked, "And your mother, Tanisha. Is she still the wise woman?"
Astraea's sharp intake of breath told him he had said the wrong thing.
She declared flatly, "Tordis had her killed. He fed her to the earc at the Earrachan games last seachtain, as part of the fertility rites for the new growing season."
"Gods above! His own cheile! No wonder you are so willing to betray him!"
Astraea looked up at him sharply, her golden eyes glittering. "My mother's death matters not. I have a destiny to fulfil, as do you. I would have clung to the same course of action no matter what her fate."
Frayne took her work-roughened hands in his own. "You don't have to pretend to me that you feel nothing. I know how you must grieve for her. She was a good woman. I know Tordis used her powers for his own ends.
"You needn't pretend with me, Astraea. Anyone who can survive the psill mines can never be deemed weak. I am truly sorry for you all. The worst tragedy of Tordis' bid for absolute power has in truth been the destruction of his very own family."
Astraea shrugged. "Tordis believed he was following his destiny. Cithe filled him with promises about him being the ard ri. Tanisha tried to dissuade him, but the thought of so much power blinded him to the consequences of his actions. Cithe was right. It was foretold by some that he could become ard ri if he killed Calder, he of sacred memory. But the prophecies also foretold unlimited bloodshed and horror if he became ard ri. Tanishea told him, and I agreed with her, that Tordis should have ended his own life before ever letting that prognostication come to pass.
"But he ignored all these warnings and predictions, and the blood of the Dosbarans has turned the ground yellow. I must help bring about the remaining prophecies of Ballor. It is my duty to stop him. I must do this if I am to have any hope of reaching the afterlife at Azaritis. I must kill him, send him to the frozen wastes of Charion for all eternity."
"I know it well," Frayne tried to joke, indicating the frigid landscape of Novers with a sweep of his hand.
Astraea's golden eyes glittered again. "You will never have to worry about going to Charion. You have already suffered your worst torments in this life."
Astraea trudged on, leaving Frayne far behind. He stared at her back as she began to climb a steep slope. Uneasiness prickled the back of his mind. He dismissed the feeling as absurd. Surely if Astraea possessed her mother's powers of healing and divination, she would not be dying of psill poisoning. She would have been able to cure herself with the magic that came only from the gods.
The amber crystalline stones were death to any who were exposed to them unprotected, but they were essential for the power in all the great buildings of Dosbara, particularly the palace of Wixam at Bezaran. Muintir were willing to sacrifice their family members for the sake of an easier life for everyone. All of the heat, light and warmth of Dosbara came from the psill.
Moin was a poor substitute, difficult to gather, quick to burn, and impossible to use to run all of the labour-saving devices which the luxurious Bezaran court had slowly introduced to the multitudes over the eons.
Frayne felt nothing but horror for the way she must be suffering. Yet she was so intent upon returning to Bezaran that at times he could barely keep up with her. This had to be a sign of favour from the gods. Perhaps she was right. Perhaps he would win his kingdom back. But at what cost?
When Frayne caught up with Astraea just as she was reaching the summit of the hill, he dared to ask the question which had been preying on his mind ever since she had arrived. "My home. Is it still the same after all this time?"
"Aye, apart from a vast tower which Tordis has been building for the past two bliain. He says it will soon be so tall he will be able to reach Azaritis just by climbing the stairs. He has packed it with psill to make it the brightest building on Dosbara, visible for milleana around."
"He must be mad! How can he live in a tower which will poison him?"
"He has a special crystal casing which he says will protect him. Besides, if Father is so convinced he is truly a god, he must believe that nothing can harm him."
"All the same, with such a tower as you have described, if one leak should occur, all of the people at Wixam would be destroyed."
"No one lives at Wixam any longer except Tordis, his sagart Cithe, and his guards. Those who dared protest at his excesses were fed to the earc, or forced to work in the psill mines, depending upon his mood."
"Better to have been fed to the earc. At least it would have been faster and less painful," Frayne remarked unthinkingly.
Astraea's face suddenly closed up at this reminder of her mother's death as well as her own serious condition. Frayne opened his mouth to apologise, but she had already she trudged on ahead of Frayne once more.
"If you are tired, we can rest for a short time," Frayne offered, running through the knee-high sneacht as fast as he could to catch up with her.
"Nay, we must press on. It will be oiche soon. The cold then will cripple us. Once we get to the other side of those mountains the weather will be milder. The blathanna of earrach are already blooming."
"I can't remember the last time I saw blathanna," Frayne sighed.
"Well, you shall see more than enough when we get to Bezaran. There the weather is warm and balmy, kissed by the ocean breezes, just as it has always been. The eanna will be singing, and the caora nursing from their mothers in the fields."
Frayne glanced at Astraea sharply. "I need no encouragement. Over the blue ridge it shall be."
Just as oiche was falling, Frayne and Astraea reached the summit of the last great hill which separated Novers from the province of Bezaran. In the distance he could see the blue mountains which ringed his beloved palace of Wixam. It would take many lae and oiche, but Frayne vowed then and there as he gazed at the azure peaks that he would see his former home once more or die in the attempt.
They descended into the gleanna, and Frayne was delighted to be able to remove his sheeata skin cloak outdoors for the first time in bliain. He carried it for a short distance, but when he caught Astraea giving him a sharp look, he let it go. He allowed his constant companion of the past ten bliain to disappear into an earc hole, and knew then that he had committed himself irrevocably to the fulfillment of the prophecies of Ballor.
True to Astraea's words, when they reached the bottom of the hill, the eacha were waiting patiently cropping the blue greassa and rainbow of blathanna which covered the gleann floor.
After a short rest, during which time Astraea slept for a few moments while Frayne watched over her with his bow and arrow, it was time to move on.
Swinging onto the eachas' backs, they rode throughout the following la and oiche. Occasionally they would come to a small settlement, here they were given fresh food and fodder for their mounts. But most of the time, they encountered nothing on the rolling red plains of Bezaran except fluffy grazing caora, and the solitary herdsman who looked after them.
Many offered the simple hospitality of their huts, eager for gossip and a friendly ear to listen to the tales of their lives. But most of the time Astraea refused these kind offers. As she explained to Frayne, "We cannot run the risk of anyone recognising you. Nor can we afford to answer difficult questions."
"But you need your rest, food, the warmth of a good fire, a soft bed," Frayne protested.
Astraea shook her dark head. "We must press on. Though the alignment will not be for another eight lae and oiche, I am not sure how we are to proceed once we get to the palace. We need signs, help, advice."
Frayne shook his head in disgust. "No one will help. Believe me. They are all too afraid of Tordis' tyranny."
She smiled thinly. "I have come to help you, have I not?"
"Yes, but...."
He avoided her sharp golden glance, and for once she did not trouble to press him for an answer. She knew he would only lie about what was in his heart. If he had ever dared to speak the truth, it would have been to declare that the only reason she had come to help him was because she was still in love with him.
Of course it was true, but it would be too painful to admit for both of them with their past lying between them like a devastated wasteland and their futures seemingly impossible.
Astraea was dying, he knew. No one could be exposed to psill for long without protective clothing without suffering the fatal effects.
As for himself, he might regain his kingdom, but even so he feared it might all be too little, too late. And without Astraea as his companion and helpmeet, what difference would any of it make anyway? It all seemed so futile all of a sudden, he almost turned back to the frozen wastes of Novers to die a certain fate rather than an unknown one.
The only things which prevented him were his dread of the cold and her golden eyes shining up at him, so bright with hope despite all she had endured.
Terrible though the horrors she had witnessed had been, and all she had suffered while he had been living in relative comfort compared to the hell she'd survived, she believed in him. He couldn't afford to let her down.
And he was certain that even if he did nothing else of deep meaning in this lifetime, he needed to be by her side when she finally passed into the Otherworld of Azaritis. Frayne knew he would not be able to comfort her, but it might make her passing easier to bear.
At the prospect of her dying, he forced his grim thoughts to one side, and got ready to remount his horse now that they were both rested, but he knew even as he did so that he could not block them out forever. Her death had to be faced. But first he needed to confront his own life.

Late in the third oiche of their journey Astraea led Frayne to a secluded gleann surrounded by thick turquoise foliage. A small stream flowed through it, and she let the eacha drink their fill while she opened her sheeata-skin bag and took out some coinin, and mas.
"Mas!" Frayne exclaimed, delighted, as he bit into the savoury smoked meat. "You remembered."
"I remember everything."
"As do I," he admitted suddenly, his jade eyes boring into hers intimately. He reached out to stroke her long ebony tresses, once vibrantly curling, now lank and brittle as the psill poisoning destroyed her from within.
She turned her head away to avoid his piercing gaze. "Eat now. Then we will rest."
Frayne's skin flushed more golden, and he dropped the lock of hair abruptly.
He longed to kiss her, but now was not the right time. How could he ever be so inconsiderate, when she was so ill?
He loathed himself for his raging desires. Throughout the entire journey, Frayne had tried to block out his memories of the one romantic time they had ever spent together before he had been sent into exile.
It had been a joyous moment, though it had become forever linked in his mind with the loss of all he had held most dear. Perhaps it was time to look at the memory again head on, to face the truth about himself and his love for Astraea, a love which had never diminished even after all this time.
He had not managed to suppress it, even after he had told himself for bliain upon bliain how much he hated her for having betrayed him. But perhaps he had just hated himself for so long, and it had been easier to blame her than face the truth about his own betrayal?
He had been but sixteen bliain, Astraea only ten. Though she had been only just old enough to bond, a woman newly ripe and blossomed, he had been certain that he wanted her for his cheile for all time.
On that fateful romantic night, the four gealach had glowed in the sky, one full, one a thin crescent, the others further away glistening in their new phase and half-phases. Astraea and Frayne had come back from an all-day hunting expedition. They had returned to the great palace tired, but both had been too energized by the warm weather and the day's adventures to sleep. They had always been friends, having been raised together from the moment Astraea had been born, but somehow, both had recently begun to feel that they wanted something more. That their relationship was special, that they were meant for something more than mere dynastic alliance.
They had sat on the lush red lawn in front of Wixam, overlooking the jade ocean, and had melted into each other's arms. They had kissed. Their hearts had thundered in their chests in unison, as though they were already joined as one.
But a timely shout from her mother had forced them to break off the wildfire kiss. With one last whispered declaration of her love for him, Astraea had run inside, promising to see him early in the la.
Frayne had paced his chamber floor throughout that night rehearsing over and over again his request to Tordis for Astraea to be his cheile. He recalled with anguish how he had even left his room unusually early, almost at the break of la, so eager had he been to ask for Tordis' permission to bond with his beloved.
Running along the long echoing corridors to Tordis' suite, he had raised his hand to knock at his father's most trusted advisor's doors.
Then he had paused. Losing his nerve slightly, mainly because of the early hour, Frayne had stepped back away from the portal and stood in the corner, willing to wait unseen until he was certain the great lord Tordis had indeed risen from his slumbers before presuming to ask him for his daughter's hand.
He had no sooner tucked himself into the corner when the door had swung open unexpectedly.
Before Frayne had been able to step forward to make his request, he had heard every word Tordis had said to Cithe. And by then it had been too late.
"You have told me the prophecies time and time again, but not when I should make my move. It must be now, before Frayne is proclaimed ard ri after Calder. He is very popular with the people from all provinces. I might kill Calder, true, but with the people on Frayne's side I would never keep my throne. It must be now, before the ceremony at the end of the bliain."
Frayne had been stunned at Tordis' duplicity, but even more astonished at his own fate. He had always assume his eldest brother Caland would fulfil the prophecy and become ard ri. True, Frayne had always been the best warrior of the five boys, though the youngest, but he had never had much head for politics and organisation, and certainly never a burning ambition to rule.
His four siblings, of course, had been more than eager for the honour. Frayne had even feared at times that they might one day kill their own father in order to achieve their ambitions. Perhaps that was the ultimate irony of the gods, to give the gift of the ard ri to one who did not even desire it.
But Frayne had had little time to reflect upon these thoughts, for once the initial shock had worn off, he had realised that he might be about to become ard ri if Tordis were to succeed in his assassination attempt.
The thought had terrified him. He couldn't live with himself if anything happened to his father because of his own foolishness.
Yet even as he had stood there trying to decide what to do for the best, Tordis' men were already filling the corridors of the palace.
Frayne knew if he were spotted he would be killed at once. But he had to get back to his side of the palace to warn his father of what he knew before it was too late.
Frayne waited until the door had closed again, and then ran past it to the great staircase outside the palace which led to the upper storey. Round and round he went up the spiral.
At last he reached the next level, full of disused furniture and foodstores. People seldom troubled to go up to look at the dusty old things stored in most of the rooms, but Frayne and Astraea had played there as children. Enticed by rumours of a secret treasure, they had searched every cubit of the rooms thoroughly.
They had never found anything especially valuable, but one treasure he and Astraea had kept all to themselves was the existence of a secret passage from the upper storey to the downstairs main wardrobe, and from there to the royal stables.
Frayne now raced along the gloomy set of chambers, wracking his brain as he went as to where the entrance was. The catch was a tricky one, and for all he knew, Cithe might have seen it in his prognostications.
He ran over to the far wall, and began to feel all along the carvings for a small depressed area. The sweat ran down his back in rivulets as he searched with shaking hands, all the while praying to the gods to spare him and his family.
At last the panel swung open. Frayne dashed inside, tumbling down the stone spiral staircase in his haste. He had fumbled with the catch on the side of the wardrobe wall, all the while convinced that the hammering of his heart was the sound of the footsteps of the guards coming ever closer.
Desperately, he hurled himself against the wall with all his might, and burst through the opening. Ordering the astonished servant to rouse his brothers and mother, Frayne ran down the long corridor to his father's study.
"Father, Tordis is coming to kill you!"
His father gazed at him, stunned for a moment at the earliness of the hour and his youngest son's wild words and his appearance.
Frayne repeated his words again breathlessly.
"Absurd," his father rapped out with a shake of his silver head. "He knows the prophecies as well as I do. If he becomes ard ri, Novers and Bezeran will become a wasteland. He could not possibly be so foolish and selfish."
"Please, Father, it is true. I overheard everything and have rushed here from their side of the palace to warn you. The guards will be here any moment. You must come to the stables. You must get away."
He shook his head. "Nay, son, if it is as you say, you will be ard ri one day after Tordis. You must leave. I will stand and fight. Take your mother and brothers to safety, I beg you. But go, now."
"You must come!" Frayne pleaded. But even as the words left his lips, he could see his father had already made up his mind to pass into Azaritis.
"Go, now! And the gods go with you, my dearest son."
Calder had snatched up his sword to defend the entrance to their suite of rooms, and had been mown down like a blade of greassa.
Frayne had hurried his mother and brothers through the chamber to the stables, but in what he had long considered to be a foolish moment of weakness, he had turned back to find Astraea.
He had known of Ballor's wild prophecies. Everyone had known. Frayne couldn't help but worry for Astraea's safety. If what Ballor had said about Calder's murder and civil war coming to Dosbara were true, then the prediction that Tordis' offspring would one day bring about his destruction meant his beloved was in danger.
Frayne had run to rescue Astraea, only to find her unwilling to go with him. He had gazed at her in astonishment, then suspicion. She seemed to take the news of the attempt on the throne by her father so calmly.... She had known all along. That was the only explanation.
"Last oiche.... You wanted me to think you cared for me, so that I would never suspect, while all the time you knew that your father--" he had accused bitterly.
"No, Frayne, you don't understand!"
With a strangled cry of grief, Frayne had flung her to the floor.
His whole world crashing down around his ears, Frayne had numbly returned to the secret passage and headed for the stables, no longer caring about what happened to him without Astraea and his father, whom he knew in his heart was now dead.
As he had neared the end of the passageway, though, his senses had heightened. Listening carefully, and crouching low against the wall in the dark passage, he moved forward cautiously.
As he approached, the shrieks and howls of the maimed and dying told him he was too late. Without a weapon himself, what could he do? He scrabbled along the ground for a staff, a torch butt, anything. But apart from a few small stones, he was defenceless.
Frayne lurked in the shadows towards the end of the secret passage, not daring to go any further. Hidden behind the door, he had watched impotently as his brothers had had their eyes plucked out. He had remained crouched, clinging to the wall to prevent himself from fainting away, as the men had used his mother and beaten her. He had jammed his fist into his mouth to prevent himself from crying out in horror. But he had never moved forward to try to save them. The truth was, he had been petrified with fear.
He had told himself at the time, as the hideous spectacle of his family's suffering had unfolded before his eyes like some macabre play that the other prophecies would one day come true. He had waited in the passage, trembling and crying like a newborn sheeata cub, until they had dragged the boys and Tenara to the psill mines.
Then he had taken the fastest eacha, and fled back to Novers, his father's homeland. He had tried to tell himself over and over again that the gods had chosen him, that he had to fulfil his destiny to become ard ri. He had used this argument to try to convince the Novarans to support him in his quest to become ard ri.
But then the great age of sneacht and ice had descended upon the once-fertile gleanns of Novers, and one by one his muintir had died. As time had passed, any support he might once have had for his quest to become ard ri had vanished with the warmth and fertility of the once-beautiful land.
Frayne had told his muintir he would fulfil the prophecy when the time was right, that he would prepare for the four gealachs aligning, as should they all.
Yet in his private moments, he had declared himself a liar and a fraud. He knew in his heart that his seeming trust in the gods simply been an excuse for his own cowardice. He had run away and left them. And he had blamed Astraea for his own failings.
Astraea, sensing his thoughts, said now, "I never knew, honestly, until it was too late. We could have done nothing to save them, you know that. Mother did not wish to destroy Novers. You must know that too. Tordis lied. He said he would keep the boys alive if she used her magic to help him destroy you.
"But you will have a new muintir soon. I know it will not replace the old one, but if it is any consolation, it has been foretold that your new muintir will be greater than before, and you and your descendants will reign here for all time."
"How can you be so sure?" he asked, seeing her eyes glowing with new light and hope.
"I do not have the power myself, but Mother wrote it all down before she was fed to the earc, so that all our people will know. There has been much bitterness caused by civil war. You are Novara, and I am Bezaran. Mother was Tingritha. She took me to her home, the sapphire mountain, Cornya. While we were there, she wrote it all down. I must stop Tordis, and together we must bring down the sacred book of Tanisha, so that all may know that you are the chosen of the gods in Azaritis."
Frayne studied her face, now nearly green, almost transparent. Soon the skull would start to show through. "Astraea, my love, you cannot. I can almost see through you now."
She leaned forward to kiss him then. His arms crept around her, but she was so thin and frail, he soon let her go.
"I'm sorry, did I hurt you?"
"I'm not that delicate, and I have waited for you a lifetime."
They settled themselves under the covers, and soon fell into a deep slumber, knowing they had found peace in each other's arms at last.

They rode on, stopping only for short rests. As they travelled, Frayne came to terms with his past, and his feelings for Astraea.
"I ran away once, but I will not run away again. This is my destiny, as you are."
"Oh Frayne, the psill will kill me, you know it will. Please do not cherish false hopes."
Frayne glared at her angrily, and thumped his eacha hard with his booted heels. "I refuse to believe that," he called over his shoulder. "Let us go. There is only one way to find out what our fates are, and that is to meet them head on. I will not be a coward any more."
They rode all day for as long as Astraea could remain sitting upright, and slept together in each other's arms under the bright stars. The four gealach in the sky were brightening, all reaching their full phases. Soon it would be time.
Astraea still had not seen any signs or portents to tell her what to do, but she prayed to the gods, and waited. She knew they would not have made her come so far, at such cost, without a reason.
Finally on the eighth la they could see the glowing silver palace of Wixam, sparkling like a jewel beside the jade ocean.
Frayne gasped. "It certainly is an impressive tower!"
He stared at the magnificent structure which towered high above the massive crystal palace.
"Aye, that it is, if you don't mind psill poisioning," she said wryly.
She too looked at the tower, particularly the base of it, which she had never really noticed before.
Suddenly Astraea gasped, clutching her chest.
"Astraea, what is it? " Frayne asked urgently as he scooped her off her moun and onto his lap before she tumbled to the ground.
"The tower, don't you see!"
Frayne shook his head.
"Tordis isn't going to try to kill you! He wants to alter the entire universe. He is going to destroy one of the gealach to prevent the prophecy from being fulfilled."
"But how!"
"The power of the psill! He's going to use the tower as a weapon!" She pointed, and at last he saw what she had, the tower sitting on a launch pad ready to be sent right into the nearest moon.
Frayne spurred the eacha then, and rode toward the palace at a breakneck pace.
Astraea and Frayne leapt to the ground and drew the swords from their scabbards. They cut, hacked, and slashed their way through the palace guards. Astraea, her bones now gleaming, fought with the strength of ten as she struggled to reach the spiral staircase which led to the top of the tower.
She could hear her father's sagart, Cithe, intoning magical incantations as she put her foot on the first step.
The whole palace began to quake and tremble. Astraea looked back to find Frayne. But he had been surrounded by six guards, trapped between the pillars of the throne room. What was she to do?
If she went back to help Frayne, the psill weapon would surely be fired. But what was the point of stopping her father if Frayne were dead?
Astraea ran back down the stairs. Using both her sword and dagger, she quickly dispatched two of Frayne's foes.
"Come, we must hurry!" she urged, as she fought with a third.
"Leave me here. I will be fine. You must stop Tordis! If he destroys the nearest gealach, Dosbara will become a cinder!"
Astraea ran her opponent through. Grabbing one more struggling guard, she smashed his head against a pillar. She left Frayne to deal with his final two assailants. She charged up the black stairs three at a time, ascending higher and higher until at last she saw an opening in the side of the tower. The inside glowed blindingly.
She shielded her eyes with one hand, and lifted her sword. Just inside the doorway were her father and Cithe.
Tordis' black eyes glittered madly when he saw his daughter step into the glowing chamber.
"I might have known it would be you. You were always your mother's child, wilful, disobedient. But it makes no difference now. The first gealach will be destroyed. There will be no alignment of four, and I shall hunt down Frayne and kill him like a dog. Your own fate will be the most horrible I can invent, and I have always had a vivid imagination."
By way of reply, Astraea grabbed the door handle and tugged it inwards, locking all of them into the tower.
"A guard will come up to let me out in a moment," her father sneered.
She swung her sword at him then.
"Stop this at once!" Tordis drew his own sword, while Cithe cowered out of the way.
Though Astraea was an excellent warrior, having trained with Frayne from the time she had been old enough to hold a wooden sword, she knew it would take more than her flagging strength to defeat Tordis. Backing away from him with her hands raised as though she were giving in to his wishes, she ran to the opposite side of the room.
Grasping the cross-handle of the hilt firmly with both hands, she rammed into the far wall with all her might, piercing the transparent crystal compartment which contained the powerful psill and prevented its radiation from contaminating the tower and palace.
Tordis's eyes widened in horror then. He and Cithe made a dash for the door. Astraea ran across the room and held them off with her sword as she rammed her dagger into the door handle and sheared it off completely.
Jumping out of the way before Tordis stabbed through the portal just to the left of her shoulder, she watched as Tordis began to scrape his fingers against the stone like a demented sheeata, shredding his skin against the crystal shards jutting out from where the handle had one been.
Glowing golden gas now began to creep up Tordis's legs. Astraea could see his sandalled feet beginning to turn green.
There was a pounding outside on the door. Frayne peered in through the window and began to hammer frantically at the portal in an effort to free Astraea.
Tordis now began to beg for his life.
"I am sorry about Calder, truly. I was mad at the time. And your brothers, well, I did my best to look after them. Please let me out, and I shall let you be ard ri in my stead."
He glanced around at his daughter, and tried one last appeal. "If you leave her in here, she will die. I offer you the throne and my daughter as cheile, but you must open this door!"
Astraea dragged her father out of the way and shouted through the thick crystal, "Don't listen to him! He will say anything to save his own miserable life. Don't open the door, I beg you. This is the only way."
Cithe began to howl as the psill poison ate through his flesh, and Tordis now hurled himself against the unyielding portal even more desperately.
Frayne struggled with the handle on the opposite side of the door. "I can't bear this, Astraea! How can I give you up now when we have only just found each other again!" Frayne bellowed through the thick crystal window.
"We'll met again in Azaritis! Go, now, before the tower collapses!"
"But what of the prophecy, the village at the top of Cornya? The sacred book?" he pleaded as he continued to yank upon out outside handle of the door.
It now snapped off in his hands. He slammed it against the crystal with all his might, in one last attempt to save his beloved.
"You must take me there. Promise me. Even if I am already dead, you must take my body there and find the book so that peace will reign at last."
"No, Astraea, I must save-Look out!"
Her father now came at her with his sword, but she ducked and parried his thrust easily and backed him up against the leaking crystal partition. With one mighty shove she pushed him through it.
Crystal shards flew in all directions as the wall gave way. The tower trembled, and a blinding flash shot through the control room. Astraea flattened herself on the floor just as the blast erupted. She could hear the shrieks of Tordis and Cithe, and smelled their charred flesh.
The door exploded open. Frayne pressed himself up against the wall behind it as the radiation shot out in a plume into the sky. Crouching low, he crawled in and grabbed hold of Astraea's thin-summer weight gown just as the entire edifice began to sway. He ran down the stairs, slipping and sliding, hanging onto his beloved with all his might as the spiral staircase began to crumble and sway. He ran out of the palace and towards his waiting eacha with Astraea, heaving her up onto its back, she was so thin and light.
Hearing a huge groaning sound behind him, he turned to see the tower looming over his head as it tumbled downwards, across the red lawn where he and Astraea had first kissed, down, into the Dofras.
It landed with a colossal splash and hiss, sending green sea spray flying in all directions, drenching him and Astraea, who lay across the eacha's back as though dead. He had just enough time to spur the eacha into motion before a vast wave of water and psill surged up onto the lawn, withering everything in its path, flooding Wixam and the surrounding area of Bezaran with deadly poison.
Frayne began to pray to all the gods as he rode on to safety, reaching the top of the hill to pause and look at the wasteland that one man's made ambition had caused.
Then he pulled Astraea's torso upright, lifting her to a sitting position to look at him. But she was still and cold, her eyes closed, her skin glowing green.
"Oh gods, no."
For a moment he could barely breathe himself, but he knew he had made a promise to his beloved which simply had to be kept.
"Come, my love, we will see the prophecy fulfilled if it is the last thing we ever do in thie lifetime."
He positioned her in a sitting position in front of him, and rode on Astraea's unconscious form tucked against him. He was certain she was dead, for no movement did she make, and there was no beating of her heart in time with his for the miles that they journeyed.
Holding back his bitter tears, Frayne climbed into the foothills of Tingrith, and continued upwards until the eacha could go no further. Stripping off his cloak, and removing his long tunic, and sleeveless jerkin, he put Astraea's arms through the sleeveholes of the latter garment. Then put his own arms through and hauled her body onto his back, tying the jerkin tightly around his waist with his leather belt.
Frayne had to use both his hands to climb the great mountain of Cornya. Hand over hand, his nails scrabbling at the sharp blue breoch, he slowly made his ascent. He was exhausted, and could feel his skin burning from the psill. He wondered as he climbed how Astraea had ever survived in the mines for so long. And it was miracle that she hadn't been charred to death as Tordis and Cithe had been.
Perhaps having worked in the mines had actually made her resistant to the deadly poison. Perhaps her long exposure ahad in fact saved her. Or perhaps she was truly the chosen of the gods?
Frayne, heartsore and weary, rolled these thoughts around and around in his head as he scrambled and dragged himself to the top.
As he reached the summit, a hand was extended down to him. Frayne took it gratefully, and with a mighty pull he flew up into the air and landed on his feet.
Frayne looked in astonishment at his strong helper, and at length recognised Ballor, his father's old sagart.
"But how--"
"I have come from Azaritis for a short time, to help you. Here is the book of Tanisha. Read it memorise it, and guard it always. If you do this, Dosbara will be land of peace and prosperity for all time."
Frayne's tears began to fall then. "It makes no difference to me without Astraea, can't you see?"
He shrugged one arm out of his jerkin and laid his burden tenderly on the ground.
"It is as the gods will! Would you doubt their wisdom?" Ballor challenged fiercely.
"But Astraea said it herself. The three muintir will fight unless we forge a new alliance, a fourth muintir, with the best aspects of the original three," Frayne argued.
"Do you love Astraea so much, then?"
He nodded. "I always have. For the past ten blian I have lied to myself, pretended I hated her, the better to bear all I had lost. But even though I believed she had betrayed me, I still loved her," Frayne answered honestly.
The old man smiled then. "Tanisha's prophecy was very specific. You would have a muintir greater than that which you ever had before. It seems to me with her Tingritha powers and your Novara sturdiness, as well as her Bezaran skills in governing, a muintir of your and her making would indeed be greater."
"Would the gods would let it be so," Frayne prayed fervently.
Ballor looked at the young man, so abject in his misery, and decided to gift him with his most heartfelt wish.
"The gods have found you worthy, ard ri Frayne. They will let it be so. And I shall stop the psill from flooding Dofras and the rest of Dosbara. And I shall remove the frost plague on Novers caused by the coldness of Tordis' heart. It shall be as you remember it from your childhood, a paradise of endless sunshine and plenty. There will still be much to undo, to rebuild, but you and Astraea shall rebuild Dosbara together."
With a wave of Ballor's hand, Astraea's transparent green flesh now turned back to it former pale opaque blue, and she groaned.
"Gods above, where am I?"
Frayne knelt close to her, stroking back her tousled dark hair, his heart so full he could feel the tears glistening on his cheeks, he who had never wept from the time his family had been killed, until now. "At the top of Cornya. You did it. You won."
"I'm so glad," she whispered.
She traced her finger over one of his pale gold cheeks, where small green patches had appeared.
"Your face! My love, what--"
"He will be well, but bear these marks forever to remind him and your people of all that has been lost as well as won." With those words Ballor vanished in a flash of golden light.
Astraea rose to her feet unsteadily with Frayne's help, and bowed to him now. "I wish you a long and happy reign, Frayne, ard ri of Dosbara."
"It will be long and happy if you will consent to become my cheile for all time, Astraea," Frayne pleaded, his jade eyes glowing.
Astraea shook her head. "How can I? It would mean altering the prophecies of the gods!"
"Ballor gave you back to me. It seems the gods foretold that you and I would create a fourth muintir, greater than any known before."
"Oh Frayne," she cried, flinging herself into his arms. He spun her around until she was dizzy, and kissed her til she was breathless.
"I do love you, Frayne."
"And I you, Astraea, now and always."
But now Astraea caught a glimpse of the ruined palace of Wixam, now dissolving into a silver jelly, and the blighted landscape of Bezaran below.
"Frayne, it's all gone!" she wailed.
He reached down to stroke the tears from her cheeks. He shook his head. "It's is naught but a building. It is the people of this land who count. You taught me that, my love. We shall build a new palace together, and a new muintir. All of Tordis' poison has now been destroyed. The past shall never touch us again. We are the rulers of Dosbara now."
"You are, my love, and I do but serve your will."
"It is my will to love you for all time, then, my ardban, my cheile. We shall rule with kindness and generosity. No one will ever be blinded and enslaved, nor forced into the psill mines ever again."
"Oh Frayne, then you will truly be a great king."
He hefted the book in one arm, and hugged his beloved with the other. "I know. Your mother foretold it, and she was a great woman. After all, she was your mother. She has given me two of the greatest gifts I could ever have hoped for, my kingdom, and the love of my life."
Astraea caressed his cheek. "Just as I hope to give you the greatest gifts, my love, and children we can share, to rebuild our land once more."
"May the gods wish it so." He inspected her face, stroking down her shoulder. "Are you well? an you walk?"
"All that was lost has been recovered, my lord."
"In that case, let us go home."
"Where is home, my love?"
"Wherever you are, Astraea. But for now, I would see Novers. Ballor has lifted the blight, and it is a most romantic spot for a bonding ceremony."
She smiled up at him, her face glowing with love. "We've waited so long, Frayne. I can't think of anywhere more perfect. Please lead the way, ard ri."
Frayne took Astraea's hand then, and led her back down the sacred mountain to their new life together.

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