Dark Dreams
Page 44
Imoshen slipped away from the celebrating Ghebites. Their hearty joy grated on her raw emotions.
Kalleen darted after her and hugged her with a thousand questions on her lips. Kalleen attempted to take the sleeping baby, but Imoshen would not part with him.
Ashmyr was more precious to her than life itself.
Returning her friend’s hug Imoshen felt the rush of new life illuminating Kalleen and smiled, though the sudden expansion of her T’En gifts startled her.
Kalleen wrinkled her nose as she studied Imoshen. ‘What is it, Imoshen? You look... different.’
Tears stung Imoshen’s eyes. Kalleen grasped her arm impulsively, offering comfort.
Imoshen blinked the tears away and shook her head, dredging up a smile of reassurance. ‘I need you to go to the citadel. Have chambers prepared and food laid out. Tell them the General has triumphed and is reconciled with the T’En. The rebels must not panic. There will be no executions.’
Kalleen nodded and called Wharrd to her side to explain what was to be done.
Imoshen left them. She crossed to where Reothe lay strapped to the makeshift stretcher, and knelt down beside him. The rebels stepped back to a respectful distance.
She touched his cheek, feeling the crust of dried blood. ‘Are you in pain?’
He grimaced. ‘What does it matter? I have lost and I’m as blind as a Mere-man. Kill me now before I recover, because I will not rest until I have restored the T’En.’
She splayed the fingers of her free hand across his forehead, concentrating on easing his pain. When his fine features relaxed, she let her hand drop.
‘I don’t want to kill you, Reothe.’
He turned his face away from her. Sadness settled in her core. Tulkhan had withdrawn from her and now Reothe.
‘I am alone and frightened by what I’ve learned this night, Reothe. I thought I could shut the T’En gifts away and use them only when I chose. But...’
‘What did you promise the Ancients?’ he asked.
‘What did you promise them?’
His eyes clouded, but he would not answer.
Imoshen sighed. ‘All I ever wanted was to ensure my survival and a future for my child.’
‘What will you do with me, Imoshen?’ Reothe asked.
Tulkhan joined them and Imoshen came to her feet. Rebels and townsfolk watched uneasily, fearing purges and executions.
Imoshen raised her voice. ‘People of Fair Isle, tell the rebels who hide under your beds that there will be no more killing. Fair Isle has seen enough death. We take T’Reothe to the citadel, as our honoured guest.’
As four men came forward to lift the litter, Imoshen turned to Tulkhan, extending her hand. For a moment she thought he would refuse to touch her, then he raised his arm and she closed her fingers over his.
She wanted to reassure him but he was too remote. He had made his acceptance of her conditional on Reothe’s death, and she could not order the execution of the last T’En warrior. Reothe had a vision for the future of the T’En race that inspired her. Reothe was her other half, closer than a lover or a brother. Without Reothe to anchor her gifts, she doubted she would survive, and she was afraid of what she might become.
No wonder the T’En were so unstable.
Pain curled around Imoshen’s heart. To think it had come to this.
Last autumn when General Tulkhan’s forces had prepared to storm the Stronghold, it had all seemed so simple – death or honour. Every decision she had made had been with the best of intentions. She wished she had never uncovered her T’En powers. But here was Ashmyr in her arms and another life growing inside her, and she could not turn back the passage of events which had led her here.
Imoshen lifted her chin and prepared to face the township.
In the growing light of a new day they made a slow, stately procession through the winding streets to the Citadel. The shopkeepers stood in the doorways and solemn children watched history unfold.
The smell of freshly baked bread made Imoshen’s stomach rumble. She veered towards a baker’s apprentice who had run to the front of the shop. He brushed flour from his apron as he balanced a tray of fresh loaves, hot from the oven.
Imoshen’s mouth watered. She met his awed eyes. ‘May I?’
The baker nodded proudly. ‘Best in all Northpoint,’ he announced. ‘Take as many as you want.’
‘Thank you.’ Imoshen took one and tore into it. Warm crusty bread melted in her mouth. She smiled. ‘Excellent!’
The baker beamed and his apprentice cheered. The crowd surged forward. First one then another stroked her hair or touched her sixth finger.
‘T’Imoshen...’ they whispered reverently, their relief and pleasure evident. She tried not to think how easily their feelings for her could turn to hatred.
With the baker’s consent, Imoshen offered a loaf to the General.
Tulkhan’s fingers closed on the crusty bread and his mouth watered in anticipation. He looked into Imoshen’s eyes with rueful understanding. She had done it again. With a simple gesture she had won the people over.
Was it by design or pure luck?
It didn’t matter.
He tore a chunk from the loaf and ate it, giving the baker his compliments before they resumed their journey.
Imoshen’s gaze met his. ‘It appears you have won, General.’
He looked into the eyes of the creature he should despise, but if truth be told he adored her. ‘Appearances can be deceptive, T’Imoshen.’
It has been six hundred years since Imoshen the First, Causare of the T’En, brought her beleaguered people across the seas to Fair Isle. The magical folk mixed with the natives, bringing culture and sophistication, and made the island one of the wealthiest, most powerful nations in the known world.
In one night, all is lost. Imoshen, namesake of the first Empress, is the last pure-blooded T'En woman, left behind when her kinfolk went to die in defence of their homeland. The savage Ghebites, barbarians from the warm north, have conquered Fair Isle, and their general, Tulkhan, claims her as his right of conquest.
Proud and fierce, trained in arts of war and possessed of extraordinary healing gifts, Imoshen must choose to submit to the barbarian soldier and save her people's heritage... or to die in a futile gesture of defiance.
“This really is a sprawling epic... it becomes addictive, and really ups the ante towards the end.”
The British Fantasy Society on Besieged
“A tale about passion, acceptance and racism. It’s not an easy tale... Daniells is a master storyteller, and the series is a must-read for every fantasy fan.”
Fantastical Imaginations on Sanctuary
www.solarisbooks.com
Fair Isle has found a new ruler, and a new way of life. Tulkhan, the Ghebite General, has long severed ties with his brother the King, and is forging a new country, bringing the best of his people—their ferocity, courage and passion—and the people he has conquered—their culture, sophistication and egalitarianism—together in a nation that will change the world.
His bond-partner—never a Ghebite "wife"—Imoshen, last of the pure-blood T'En women, with her wine-dark eyes and silver hair, rules by his side. What began as a political alliance has blossomed into love, for one another and their newborn son.
But even as differences still cause trouble between the Ghebites and the people of Fair Isle, Imoshen's past tears her in half. For Reothe, once her betrothed, once so great a threat to them and now crippled by her powers, still seeks to draw her away. And the lure of the mind-touch—the magical intimacy that she and Tulkhan can never share—is one she cannot ignore...
“This really is a sprawling epic... it becomes addictive, and really ups the ante towards the end.”
The British Fantasy Society on Besieged
“A tale about passion, acceptance and racism. It’s not an easy tale... Daniells is a master storyteller, and the series is a must-read for every fantasy fan.”
Fantastical Im
aginations on Sanctuary
www.solarisbooks.com