Cecilia Dart-Thornton - The Bitterbynde 03 - The Battle of Evernight
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[Version 2.0—proofread and formatted by braven]
This book is dedicated to elephants.
The conservation of elephants is emblematic, in many ways, of the conservation of nature.
—Peter Stroud, Elephant Conservation, Royal Melbourne Zoo
Author's Note
Some of my proceeds from the sale of this book are being donated to the Royal Melbourne Zoo's
efforts for the conservation of elephants in their native habitats, such as Sumatra. However, my donations
will not even come close to being sufficient for the task. If you wish to make a donation or learn more
about the conservation efforts of the Royal Melbourne Zoo, please contact: The Director, Department of
Conservation and Research, Royal Melbourne Zoo, Elliott Avenue, Parkville, 3052, Australia. Web site:
http://www.zoo.org.au/
Recommended reading: When Elephants Weep: The Emotional Lives of Animals, by Jeffrey
Moussaieff Masson and Susan McCarthy (Delta).
Many thanks to the following writers (in alphabetical order) for their fellowship and support:
James R. Allison, Kimberley Bradford, Jan Corso, Diane Coyle, Crystal Edwards, Roger Eichorn,
Charles Coleman Finlay, Elizabeth Glover, Karin Lowachee, Steve Nagy, S. K. S. Perry, Nancy
Proctor, Marsha Sisolak, James Stevens-Arce, and Michelle Thuma.
"Other than donating some of the proceeds from the sale of this book, Cecilia Dart-Thornton is not
associated, either directly or indirectly, with the Royal Melbourne Zoo and therefore accepts no
responsibility and/or liability for any acts or omissions of the Royal Melbourne Zoo.
For various reasons, the author would like to thank:
Linda Addison, John Berlyne, Pat Cadigan, Alan Dean Foster, Ellen Key Harris, and Matthew
Hughes.
CONTENTS
Synopsis
I—Khazathdaur: The Masts of Shadow
2—Ishkiliath: Field and Fen and Mortal Men
3—Lallillir: The Veiled Vale
4—Cinnarine: Forbidden Fruit
5—Firzenholt and Beyond: The Laurel Labyrinth
6—Tapthartharath: Smoke on the Water, Fire in the Sky
7—Darke: Evernight
8—Annath Gothallamor, Part I: A Fortress Fair and Fell
9—Annath Gothallamor, Part II: The Eagle and the Raven
10—The Battle of Evernight: Of Love and War
11—The Bitterbynde, Part I
12—The Bitterbynde, Part II
Epilogue
Synopsis
This is the third book of THE BITTERBYNDE trilogy.
Book I, The Ill-Made Mute, told of a mute, scarred amnesiac who led a life of drudgery in Isse
Tower, a House of the Stormriders. Stormriders, otherwise known as Relayers, were messengers of high
status. They "rode sky" on winged steeds called eotaurs, and their many towers were strewn across the
empire of Erith, in the world called Aia.
Sildron, the most valuable of metals in this empire, had the property of repelling the ground, thus
providing any object with lift. This metal was used to make the shoes of the Skyhorses and in the building
of Windships to sail the skies. Only andalum, another metal, could nullify the effect of sildron.
Erith was randomly visited by a strange phenomenon known as the shang, or the unstorm: a
shadowy, charged wind that brought a dim ringing of bells and a sudden springing of tiny points of
colored light. When this anomaly swept over the land, humans had to cover their heads with their
taltries—hoods lined with a mesh of a third metal, talium. Talium prevented human passions from spilling
out through the skull. At times of the unstorm, this was important, because the shang had the ability to
catch and replay human dramas. Its presence engendered tableaux, which were ghostly impressions of
past moments' intense passions, played over repeatedly until, over centuries, they faded.
The world outside the Tower was populated not only by mortals but also by immortal creatures
called eldritch wights—incarnations wielding the power of gramarye. Some were seelie, benevolent
toward mankind, while others were unseelie and dangerous.
The drudge escaped from Isse Tower and set out to seek a name, a past, and a cure for the facial
deformities. Befriended by an Ertish adventurer named Sianadh, who named her Imrhien, she learned that
her yellow hair indicated she came of the blood of the Talith people, a once-great race that had dwindled
to the brink of extinction. Together, the pair sought and found a treasure trove in a cave under a remote
place called Waterstair. Taking some of the money and valuables with them, they journeyed to the city of
Gilvaris Tarv. There they were sheltered by Sianadh's sister, the carlin Ethlinn, who had three children:
Diarmid, Liam, and Muirne. A city wizard, Korguth, tried unsuccessfully to heal Imrhien's deformities. To
Sianadh's rage, the wizard's incompetent meddling left her worse off than before. Later, in the
marketplace, Imrhien bought freedom for a seelie waterhorse. Her golden hair was accidentally revealed
for an instant, attracting a disturbing glance from a suspicious-looking onlooker.
After Sianadh departed from the city, bent on retrieving more riches from Waterstair, Imrhien and
Muirne were taken prisoner by a band of villains led by a man named Scalzo. Upon their rescue they
learned of the deaths of Liam and Sianadh. Scalzo and his henchmen were to blame.
Imrhien promised Ethlinn she would reveal the location of Waterstair's treasure only to the
King-Emperor. With this intention, she joined Muirne and Diarmid and traveled to distant Caermelor, the
Royal City. Along their way through a wilderness of peril and beauty, Imrhien and Diarmid accidentally
became separated from their fellow travelers, including Muirne. Fortunately they met Thorn, a handsome
ranger of the Dainnan knighthood whose courage and skill were matchless, and Imrhien fell victim to
love.
After many adventures, followed by a sojourn in Rosedale with Silken Janet and her father, these
three wanderers rediscovered Muirne, safe and well. Muirne departed with her brother Diarmid to join
the King-Emperor's armed forces. Recruits were in demand, because rebel barbarians and unseelie
wights were mustering in the northern land of Namarre, and it seemed war was brewing in Erith.
Imrhien's goal was to visit the one-eyed carlin, Maeve, seeking a cure, before continuing on to
Caermelor. At her final parting from Thorn she was distraught. To her amazement, he kissed her at the
last moment.
At last, in the village of White Down Rory, Imrhien's facial disfigurements were healed. With the
cure, she regained the power of speech.
Two of her goals had been achieved. She now had a name and a face, but still, no memory of her
past.
At the opening of Book 2, The Lady of the Sorrows, Imrhien realized that Maeve's cottage was
being watched and decided to leave secretly, in disguise. With black-dyed hair, gorgeous new clothes, a
fake identity, and a new name—Lady Rohain Tarrenys of the Sorrow Islands—Imrhien arrived at
Caermelor Palace.
There, she informed the Duke of Roxburgh, Tamlain Conmor, and the Royal Bard, Thomas
Rhymer, of the treasure under Waterstair. The magnificent trove became the property of the Crown and
Rohain was richly rewarded for her part in its discovery. She was given jewels, an estate, the title of
baroness, and the services of a maid named Viviana Wellesley.
Rohain had to remain at Court until she gained an audience with the King-Emperor. The sovereign,
however, was busy with preparations for conflict with the barbarian rebels of northern Namarre. Serious
trouble was brewing there, and it was feared that the Empire itself was in danger of being attacked and
overrun.
The maidservant Viviana turned out to be a friend and ally, while Thomas Rhymer and the wife of
Tamlain Conmor, Alys, watched over Rohain. They told her tales of the Faeran, the race of powerful
immortals who long ago used to walk the lands of Erith. Another courtier, Dianella, the niece of the
wizard Sargoth, also appeared to befriend the newcomer.
To Rohain's delight she discovered that her friend Sianadh had escaped death. She told him about
her amnesia, and he advocated returning to Isse Tower in a bid to find out more about her origins. But
spiteful Dianella discovered Rohain's identity was faked, and told her to abandon her wealth and leave
Court forever, or face the broadcasting of her duplicity. Taking Sianadh's advice, Rohain departed for
Isse Tower, accompanied by Viviana.
At the Seventh House of the Stormriders all Rohain could learn was that the deformed servant she
had once been was found near Huntingtowers, a frightening place inhabited by the Wild Hunt. Rohain set
out for Huntingtowers, but her journey was cut short. On returning to Isse Tower, she was reunited with
Thorn, only to discover that he in truth held a higher status than she could have imagined.
She returned to Caermelor Palace at Thorn's side. Fearful lest her cup of happiness should break,
Rohain concealed from him the fact that she had no memory of her past life before Isse Tower. When her
lover had to depart for the conflict in the north, he left her in the safest possible place—the Royal Isle of
Tamhania. Before they parted, he gave her a golden "leaf-ring" as a token.
Tamhania was guarded by enchantments that made it inviolable to unseelie forces. During a violent
storm Rohain was tricked into kindling the great Beacon that opened safe passage into the harbor. She
had unwittingly allowed unseelie entities to breach the security of the island. Soon afterward, the
destruction of Tamhania commenced, and Rohain fled over the sea with her friends. Many boats were
lost—the rest were torn from one another.
Rohain found herself washed up on a remote shore not far from Huntingtowers, along with Viviana
and young Caitri. Knowing she faced great peril, Rohain decided to assume yet another identity, and
took the name Tahquil. Using boiled tree-bark, Viviana dyed Tahquil's hair brown. Through the cindery
air, still filled with the ashes of Tamhania's volcanic destruction, the companions traveled to the caldera of
Huntingtowers. On the outskirts of the caldera, Tahquil found a gold bracelet. The sight of it triggered
memories . . .
She recalled a time long past, in the land of Avlantia, when the city of Hythe Mellyn had been
purged of a plague of rats by a mysterious Piper, who had snared the rodents with his enchanting music.
The city had not paid the Piper his due, so in return he stole away the children of Hythe Mellyn, leading
them under Hob's Hill.
One child alone had not answered the Piper's call. Ashalind na Pendran had an injured leg and was
unable to follow. As she grew up in the city of sorrow, she sought constantly for a way into the Piper's
realm. Easgathair, one of the Faêran—the immortal race who walked of yore in Erith—took pity on her,
and described a way to penetrate Hob's Hill. Once inside, Ashalind was brought before the Crown
Prince of the Faêran, Morragan, the Raven Prince. Clever Ashalind was able to answer three questions
with which the prince challenged her. In return, he permitted the children to return to the world of
mortals.
However, the relinquished children began to pine and languish. A profound Longing for the Fair
Realm had gripped them, a deadly yearning known as the Langothe. The wizards of Avlantia declared
that there was no known cure. In desperation, Ashalind called on Easgathair to allow the children to pass
back into the Fair Realm, this time with their families, so that the Longing would leave them, allowing
them to survive. Easgathair granted her request. He also announced that the Gates between the Realm of
the Faêran and the lands of mortals would soon close forever.
On the Day of Closing, the citizens of Hythe Mellyn deserted their homes and rode into the Fair
Realm. Just before the Gates swung shut, Ashalind discovered that there was in fact a cure for the
Langothe, of which the wizards had been unaware. She decided to return to Erith. Due to a last-minute
skirmish between Prince Morragan and his brother, Angavar, both members of the Faêran royal family
were locked out of the Fair Realm along with their respective retinues. They were forever exiled to the
world of mortals. However, Ashalind had already slipped into a traverse known as the Gate of Oblivion's
Kiss because of the condition, or bitterbynde, it imposed on all who entered it.
By the time she-of-many-names emerged, a millennium had elapsed in Erith. Through many trials she
managed to make her way to Huntingtowers, where, on the haunted slopes of the caldera, she lost her
golden hair, her voice, and her memories.
The Gate's bitterbynde had come upon her.
END OF BOOK TWO
1
KHAZATHDAUR
The Masts of Shadow
Pale rings of smoke come floating through the trees,
Clear voices thread like silver on the breeze,
And as I look towards the west I grieve,
For in my heart, I'm crying out to leave.
—MADE BY LLEWELL, SONGMAKER OF AURALONDE
The rain was without beginning and without end. It pattered on incessantly, a drumming of impatient
fingers. There was only the sound of the rain and the rasp of breathing while the girl, mute, amnesiac,
shorn, and wasted, climbed out over the brink of the mine-shaft. She was alone, with no concept of her
own identity, no memory of how she had come to this place. In subterranean darkness she crawled
blindly, until, reaching an opening, she tumbled out among javelins of rain. Over levels of harsh stone and
through dripping claws of vegetation she drove herself on limbs emaciated by weeks of the Langothe and
days of starvation in the wilderness and lack of appetite for the food of Erith after the sight and fragrance
of Faêran fare. Sometimes she slept momentarily, or perhaps lost consciousness.
Pleasantly, even the Langothe had been forgotten then.
With stiffening limbs she moved slowly through the mud and wet stone of the abandoned mine,
oblivious of its beauties or horrors, blind to obstacles that tore at her. Reaching level ground, she rose
onto trembling legs and walked, an action her limbs seemed to remember by some instinct of their own.
The little dog was gone. The girl had lain a long time underground after the cave-in, at whiles licking
at water-droplets that oozed from the rock. Buried alive, she was presumed dead. The Hunt had been
abandoned because the hunters had not known who she was, believing her to be merely some foolish
spy, some unlucky wanderer or thief, now punished by death beneath the rock fall. Yet she had survived,
whether due to the Lady Nimriel's mysterious gift or some inherent strength, or something else,
unfathomable.
The ground had emptied from beneath her feet. She hurtled downward, to be brought up on a
spear-point of agony. Her bracelet had snagged on a dead twig. She released the catch and fell into a
thicket of Hedera paradoxis.
Hours passed.
Later, lying ivy-poisoned by the roadside, the shorn-haired waif in tattered masculine attire had been
discovered by a passing carter. He had stolen her Faêran cloak and delivered her into the hands of
Grethet.
Much had happened since then . . .
Now, as memories flooded back like sap rising in Spring, a strange euphoria blossomed within the
damsel lying in a semi-trance beneath the night-bound woods near Huntingtowers. The experience of
recall imbued her with power. She felt like a winged being looking down on the world from an impossible
height, while a light of glory crayonned her pinions in gold. So expanded was she in this virtual form that if
she held out her hand she could cup the rain. Clouds brushed her cheek with cold dew, and should she
raise her arms she could catch the sun like a golden ball. Mankind moved like beetles around her feet,
and nothing could touch her. She had endured it all and been borne through, shining. She was winning.
So far.
———«»——————«»——————«»———
Her shoulder hurt. It was being shaken in an iron claw. Her entire body quaked. She thrust off the
claw, uttering an inarticulate groan.
"Rohain! Mistress!" Hazel eyes in a rounded, dimpled face appeared, framed by bobbing yellow
curls with brown roots.
Sitting up, the dreamer took a swig from the water-bottle. Like any warrior, she rinsed her mouth
and spat, then wiped her lips on her bloodstained sleeve.
"Via, I told you not to call me that. And cut your fingernails." She rubbed her shoulder. "Are we
alive?"
"Yes, all three. You saved us."
"I would like to agree, but I have this ornament on my finger which is responsible for our current
state of health." Her hands wandered up to her face, lightly touching the forehead, the nose, the chin. She
examined a strand of dark hair. "Am I as I was? Am I ugly or beautiful? Boy or girl?"
Viviana and Caitri exchanged meaningful looks.
"Your experience at Huntingtowers has unsettled you, er . . . Tahquil," said Caitri. "Come, let us
help you to your feet. We must get away from here. We are still too close to that place."
As they stood up, the one they called Tahquil swayed, clutching at her heart. Leaning against a
linden tree, she closed her eyes and grimaced.
"Zooks, ma'am, what is amiss?" asked Viviana, full of concern.
"Ah, no, it cannot be. Alas, it has me again. This, then, is the price."
"What has you?"
"The Langothe. There's no salve for it." The sufferer gulped down her pain. "Let us go on." I must
endure the unendurable.
She wondered how long it would take to destroy her.
———«»——————«»——————«»———
It was the second of Duileagmis, the Leafmonth, viminal last month of Spring. In the woods, every
leaf was a perfect spear-blade chipped from lucent emerald, fresh from the bud. As yet the new foliage
was unbitten by insect, unparched by wind, untorn by rain.
The travelers walked through a glade striped with slender silver-paper poles marked at spaced
intervals with darker notches that accentuated the clean smooth paleness of the bark. The tops of the
poles were lost overhead in a yellow-stippled haze of tenderest green.
The damsel called Tahquil twisted the golden leaf-circle on her finger. Her thoughts fled to he who
had bestowed it upon her. I miss thee. I have come full circle. Here I am once more. And thee, my
love, shall I ever see thee again?
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[Version2.0—proofreadandformattedbybraven]Thisbookisdedicatedtoelephants.Theconservationofelephantsisemblematic,inmanyways,oftheconservationofnature.—PeterStroud,ElephantConservation,RoyalMelbourneZooAuthor'sNoteSomeofmyproceedsfromthesaleofthisbookarebeingdonatedtotheRoyalMelbourneZoo'seffortsforth...
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