Harshini dct-3

by Jennifer Fallon

  “Why do you want to go up on the roof?”

  “Because we want to sneak out of the palace Damin, and it might be a little bit obvious if I summon a dragon in the middle of the main courtyard.”

  “A dragon? You are going to summon a dragon?”

  “If Dranymire agrees to it.”

  “I don't know about the roof in this part of the palace, but there is a roof garden attached to the guest quarters in the west wing. Will that do?”

  “I suppose.”

  She followed Damin as he hurried through the debris of the attack. They were still clearing out the bodies of the guards who had died defending the palace. As they climbed the sweeping marble staircase that led to the guest apartments, they met two Raiders carrying a stretcher between them, coming down the stairs. A sheet covered the body on the stretcher, but it did not conceal the blue skirts and bloodstained slippers underneath.

  “Damin!”

  He glanced at the stretcher and ordered the men to halt. With some trepidation, he peeled back the cover. R'shiel let out a small cry of anguish as she saw who lay beneath it.

  “Gods,” Damin muttered. “Tamylan never deserved such a fate.”

  “Tam was Adrina's best friend.”

  “She was just a slave, R'shiel,” Damin corrected, gently replacing the sheet and waving the men on.

  “She was still Adrina's best friend.”

  Damin nodded grimly. “Come. We have another reason now to deal with Lord Eaglespike.”

  When they reached the second landing, R'shiel discovered Mikel sitting on the stairs, tears streaming down his face. R'shiel knelt down beside him, ignoring Damin's impatient sigh.

  “Mikel? Are you hurt?”

  He shook his head. “I'm sorry, my Lady...”

  “Sorry? For what? This wasn't your fault.”

  “We heard them... me and Tamylan... we were bringing the Princess her dinner. We saw the men in the hall and Tamylan ran at them. She told me to hide. So I did.”

  “Then you've nothing to be ashamed of, Mikel.”

  “But Tamylan's dead and all I did was hide!” he wailed. “Now all these people are dead... and I don't where Jaymes is...”

  R'shiel glanced up at Damin helplessly. She had no idea what to say to the child.

  Although she could tell Damin was consumed with impatience, he squatted down beside the boy. “Mikel! Look at me!”

  Unable to ignore Damin's commanding tone, Mikel wiped his eyes and turned to the Warlord. “Every man under my command knows how to follow orders, even when they don't like them. I don't expect to find them sitting about crying over it afterwards, either.”

  “No, sir,” Mikel replied weakly.

  “As for your brother, he's alive and well. He was with the party I took to meet Lady Lionsclaw.”

  Mikel brightened considerably at the news. “He was?”

  “Yes, he was. Now, pull yourself together, lad, and get your arse down to Captain Almodavar and tell him I said to find you something useful to do. We need every man we've got at the moment and I don't have time for you to sit here bawling like a baby.”

  “No, sir.” Mikel squared his shoulders and smiled tentatively at Damin. “Are you going to rescue the Princess, my Lord?”

  “If I don't keep getting distracted,” he agreed, with an impatient glance at R'shiel.

  She smiled at Mikel, then on impulse she summoned the little demon who seemed so fond of getting Mikel into trouble. He started as the creature popped into existence beside him.

  “The demon will stay with you, Mikel, until we get back. But you mustn't tell anybody that we've gone.”

  Mikel stared at it for a moment then turned to R'shiel. The demon chittered at him unhappily, sensing the child's misery. “What's his name?”

  “She doesn't have a name yet. Maybe you can help her think of one.”

  He nodded and sniffed back the last of his tears.

  “Off you go, boy,” Damin ordered. He was chafing at the delay.

  Mikel fled without another word, the little grey demon tumbling down the stairs in his wake. R'shiel watched them go and then turned to Damin with a smile.

  “You handled him very well.”

  “You gave him a pet demon.”

  She shrugged. “It'll keep him company.”

  He stared at her for a moment and then shook his head. “Come on. And I don't care what we find on the next landing, we're not stopping.”

  * * *

  The roof garden was a riot of greenery, intricately laid out paths and fountains that filled the night with their musical splashing. Damin led her to the paved clearing in the centre of the garden and glanced up at the starlit sky.

  “Another few weeks and the rains will start.”

  “A pity they aren't here now. We could do with a bit of cloud cover.”

  “Can't you make us invisible?”

  “I'm not even sure how to ride a dragon, Damin.”

  “But you said —”

  “I know what I said. I wish Brak were here.”

  Damin glanced at her for a moment then shook his head. “You really are a bit of a fraud, aren't you?”

  “I'm the biggest fraud in the whole world. I have no idea what I'm doing and only the vaguest idea of what I'm supposed to be doing. I just have to hope that if I keep pretending long enough, I'll figure out what's going on.” She frowned then, turning to look at him. “I have to leave soon, Damin. You don't need me to take your throne for you. You have Adrina. She's actually a lot better at politics than I am.”

  “You seem to get by,” he noted with a faint grin.

  “I've Joyhinia to thank for that.”

  Damin wasn't sure how to answer that, so he turned and looked up at the sky again. “Summon your demons, demon child. I'm sure the gods will watch over us.”

  She frowned, wondering if she should mention that his assurance gave her little comfort. Then another thought occurred to her - something that should have been dealt with, long before this.

  “Damin, there's something you should probably know. About Adrina.”

  “What about her?”

  “She's pregnant.”

  “I know.”

  “You know? Who told you? Marla?”

  He smiled smugly. “I am neither blind nor stupid R'shiel. And I can count.”

  “Why didn't you say something?”

  “It was more fun watching Adrina trying to work up the courage to tell me herself.”

  “You can be a real bastard, Damin Wolfblade. You don't deserve her.”

  He sighed, suddenly serious. “No, I think we actually deserve each other.”

  “Then you admit you feel something for her?”

  “When I heard she'd been kidnapped, I thought I would die, R'shiel,” he admitted, albeit with some reluctance. “I've never felt that way about anyone before.”

  “Not even your horse?” she asked.

  “My horse?”

  “It's something Adrina said once. That the only thing you truly cared about was your horse.”

  Damin thought for a moment and then smiled. “No, I think I actually care about her more.”

  “Well make sure you tell her when we get her back. I'm sick to death of you two. Everyone's life would be considerably easier if you devoted all that effort to making peace instead of war.”

  * * *

  Dranymire responded almost instantly to her summons, although he seemed unimpressed when she explained what she wanted of him.

  “Riding a dragon is a skill that takes a great deal of time to learn, R'shiel,” he warned in his deep voice. “You can't just hop on and hope for the best.”

  “But we need to get to Dregian Castle. Tonight. It's three days by road and they'll see us coming from leagues away if we take a ship.”

  “Getting there late is better than not getting there at all.”

  “Please, Dranymire.”

  The little demon cast his liquid eyes over Damin and frowned. “I suppose you
want us to carry him, too?”

  “Yes.”

  “When next you are at Sanctuary, Your Highness, you and I need to have a long discussion regarding the nature of the relationship between demons and the Harshini. Specifically, the wanton use of demon melds.”

  “And I promise I'll listen to every word. But right now, I need a dragon.”

  “You need some discipline,” the demon corrected loftily. “However, I am in the mood to indulge you, and there are a number of my brethren who will benefit from the experience.”

  “Thank you,” she said with relief, bending down to kiss his wrinkled grey forehead. “I won't forget this.”

  “Neither will I,” the demon promised, somewhat ominously.

  They stepped back as more demons began to materialise and gather around Dranymire. R'shiel quickly lost count of them. The demons bonded to the té Ortyn family were among the oldest and most numerous of all the brethren, which accounted for the size and stature of the dragon they could form. She watched in fascination as the meld began, demons flowing into each other almost too fast for the eye to take in.

  The dragon grew before her until its wings blocked out the stars.

  “Climb on, Your Highness, and try not to fall off.”

  R'shiel used the dragon's leg as a step and pulled herself up, surprised at how warm the metallic scales felt under her hands. Damin clambered up and settled himself behind her, his arms around her waist. R'shiel tried to find something to hold onto, but there was nothing.

  “You must grip with your thighs,” Dranymire informed her. “Riding a dragon is simply a question of balance.”

  “Balance,” she repeated dubiously, seriously doubting her wisdom in deciding to use a dragon to rescue Adrina. She glanced over her shoulder at Damin. “You ready?”

  “I suppose.”

  Dranymire must have heard him. A gust of warm wind rushed over them as the dragon beat its powerful wings and lifted them into the darkness.

  CHAPTER 27

  Dregian Castle grew out of a promontory that jutted into the ocean like an upright sword buried hilt-down in the white chalk cliffs. It was a tall, narrow structure, more tower than keep, its white stone pitted and yellowed by years of being assaulted by the corrosive sea air. Unlike Krakandar, the main city of Dregian Province was some distance away from the castle, crowded around a small bay eight leagues to the east of the keep.

  Dranymire landed near the woods that ringed a vast open field of cleared ground surrounding the fortress, just as dawn was feeling its way over the horizon.

  R'shiel climbed down stiffly from the dragon, her thighs aching from the effort of keeping her seat. Damin appeared to have fared no better than she as he stumbled to the ground. The two of them hobbled about for a few moments, trying to work out the knots in their muscles. Dranymire seemed highly amused by their plight.

  “As I said, Your Highness, riding a dragon is a skill that takes years to acquire.”

  “I didn't fall off. Give me some credit.”

  The dragon lowered its head and studied her with his plate-sized eyes. “Yes. You managed that much. Did you want me to wait for you?”

  “For me, yes. Damin's probably going to have to return to Greenharbour by more conventional means once we've found Adrina.”

  “I shall await your summons, Your Highness.”

  Looking rather relieved that he would not have to repeat the journey, Damin caught up with R'shiel as she stumbled down the small slope to the open ground below.

  “What are you doing?”

  “I'm off to rescue your wife.”

  “What are you going to do? March up to the drawbridge and knock?”

  “Pretty much.”

  “R'shiel!”

  She stopped and turned back to him. “What?”

  “You can't do that!”

  “Why not?” She smiled at his expression. “Stop thinking with your sword, Damin. We can't storm the place, so we have to get them to let us in. Once we're inside, I can deal with any opposition.”

  “You're not even armed.”

  “There you go, thinking with your sword again.” She resumed walking, pleased to discover the exercise was beginning to loosen the stiffness from her thighs. Damin ran to catch up with her.

  “So what are you planning to do?” he demanded, falling into step beside her.

  “Two people walking across a field are no threat to the castle. Even if you're recognised, they'll be so surprised you came alone, that they won't do anything straight away. At worst they'll send for Cyrus.”

  “And what do you think he's going to do?”

  “Nothing. By the time we're inside, it won't make a difference.”

  “You're going to use magic then?” he asked, rather sceptically.

  “Of course.”

  “But you don't know what you're doing. You admitted as much before we left Greenharbour. You might accidentally harm Adrina.”

  “I did learn something at Sanctuary, Damin.”

  “Not nearly enough, from what I've seen so far.”

  “Trust me.”

  “I hate people who say that.”

  She grinned at him. “Stop worrying about me and start thinking about how you're going to apologise to Adrina.”

  “Apologise? Why should I apologise?”

  “Because she deserves one. And besides, an apology is always a good way to make a woman listen to you.”

  “And when did you become such an expert on affairs of the heart? You're a child. And a spoiled one, at that.”

  “I'm the demon child. I'm omnipotent.”

  “I hope you never actually begin to believe that, R'shiel.”

  She glanced at him, her grin fading. “So do I.”

  * * *

  The castle was just beginning to waken as they reached it. With an ear-piercing squeal, the gates swung open and they hastily stepped back to let a troop of Raiders thunder past them, heavily armed and armoured. They were too intent on their own business to notice the couple standing in the shadow of the castle wall. Damin watched them leave, his brow furrowed.

  “They're getting ready to fight.”

  “What did I tell you? Cyrus has probably got his borders lined five deep in Raiders, waiting for you to attack.”

  “I hate people who say, 'I told you so', almost as much as people who say 'trust me'.”

  She smiled. “Come on. Let's get inside before they close the gates again.”

  R'shiel carefully opened herself up to the power as they entered the cool dimness of the short tunnel that led to the iron-studded gates. She had seen Brak attempt this once and hoped she remembered how it was done. She wove the glamour clumsily as they moved forward, but somewhat to her astonishment, the guards on duty paid them no attention as they walked boldly into the small yard that surrounded the tall white tower. Damin glanced at her in surprise when they were not challenged, nodding in understanding when he noticed her black eyes.

  “So we're inside,” he whispered. “What now?”

  “There's no need for whispering, Damin. They cannot see us or hear us.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “Almost.”

  Unconvinced, Damin glanced up at the tower. “She'll be in there, I suppose.”

  “Great deductive reasoning, Lord Wolfblade. Where else would she be?” R'shiel ignored the look he gave her and looked up with a frown. “How much do you want to bet she's right at the top and we're going to have to climb about a million steps to get there?”

  They let themselves into the tower through the main hall, which was littered with the remnants of the previous evening's festivities. The slaves were starting to stir from their places near the cooking hearths, rubbing bleary eyes as they yawned themselves into wakefulness. A few of the more alert slaves were already up and about, righting overturned stools and clearing away dishes stained with congealed fat and limp vegetable remains.

  “Looks like it was quite a party,” R'shiel remarked.

 
“Cyrus would have feasted his troops before he sent them out.”

  She glanced around the hall, at the low, vaulted ceiling and the rough stone floor. “This place is pretty old, isn't it?”

  “It's one of the oldest structures in Hythria,” he agreed. “It predates Greenharbour, I think.”

  “Then it probably has dungeons.”

  “I suppose.”

  “Then we'll check them first.”

  “Cyrus wouldn't dare throw Adrina in a dungeon.”

  “No, you wouldn't dare. Cyrus doesn't care about Adrina, one way or the other. Besides, I've spent all night clinging to a dragon with my thighs. My legs are killing me. I really don't want to climb all the way to the top of this place, just to find out she's a few steps below us. We check the dungeons first.”

  Damin nodded his agreement, probably just as sore and stiff as she was. He pointed to a door that led off the hall by the second hearth. R'shiel followed him, stepping over a number of sleeping bodies along the way. She looked about her, unable to entirely believe that the glamour she had drawn around them was actually working.

  They made their way down a narrow corridor that curved around the tower and led to another door at the end, this one reinforced with bands of iron. Damin pushed it open slowly, wincing as the hinges squealed in protest.

  “They might not hear us,” Damin hissed. “But they're bound to hear that.”

  “Keep going. If they come to investigate, they'll just think the door hadn't been latched properly.”

  Damin obviously did not share her confidence, but he led the way forward, down a set of damp, narrow steps that reached into the darkness. R'shiel kept her hand on the wall, making her way by feel more than sight. The stone was slimy under her fingers, and in the distance she could hear the faint rush of the ocean as it pounded against the castle's foundations.

  She bumped into Damin when he stopped abruptly, pointing to a spill of yellow light coming from the bottom of the stairs. She nodded silently, falling victim to Damin's desire for stealth, even though, protected by the glamour, there was no need for it. They reached the bottom and stepped into another narrow passage, this one lined by barred cells and lit by fitfully sputtering torches. There were guards at the other end of the passage, squatting on the floor, engrossed in their game. The air was surprisingly fresh, heavy with the smell of the ocean and the waves crashing against the cliffs seemed even louder. A faint breeze whispered past them and R'shiel realised that there must be an opening down here that led to the sea. If they had brought Adrina here by boat, then there was a good chance this was the way she had come. With luck, they hadn't bothered to take her any further.