Harshini dct-3

by Jennifer Fallon

  Dranymire began to lose altitude while they were still several leagues from the harbour. He headed for a clearing that appeared in the vast canopy of trees passing beneath them in a green blur east of the city. Brak had arranged to meet them here, and her heart quickened a little at the thought of seeing him again. The reason was quite simple and more than a little disturbing. Brak was the only person, Harshini or demon, god or human, who she trusted implicitly. Including, she realised with a frown, both Tarja and Damin.

  Her reason for distrusting Damin was fairly straightforward. He had a bad habit of acting first and worrying about the consequences later. If he let her down, it would not be lack of honour, but lack of forethought, that betrayed her. Tarja was a little more complicated. His love for her was imposed on him. It might vanish as abruptly as it had appeared and his anger when he realised how he'd been manipulated could easily turn that love to hatred. She wished she knew where he was, and that he was safe. She desperately wanted to know what he was thinking.

  Brak was waiting for them in the clearing when they landed. The humid jungle was alive with the sounds of insects and other creatures she could not see, and the trees shook as the unseen beasts leapt from tree to tree. Whatever they were, they seemed unafraid of the dragons and not too bothered by the presence of the Harshini.

  R'shiel slithered off the dragon's back, and collapsed inelegantly as she hit the ground. Brak smiled and stepped forward to help her up.

  “Not as easy as it looks, is it?”

  “I'm getting the hang of the riding. It's the walking around afterwards I'm still having trouble with.” She looked up at him smiling as she climbed unsteadily to her feet. “I'm so glad to see you, Brak. Do you think we could just sit for a moment?”

  “I think you'd better,” he agreed, helping her across the clearing to a fallen log that was slowly being consumed by the jungle around it. She sat down gratefully as Brak turned and bowed respectfully to the dragon.

  “Lord Dranymire.”

  “Lord Brakandaran.”

  “I thank you for delivering the demon child safely.”

  “Luck and a modicum of natural ability is the only reason she survives, my Lord. I can claim no credit.”

  Brak smiled. “I thank you all the same, my Lord.”

  “Will you be long discussing your plans? We have been in this meld for days now, and I wish to allow my brethren an opportunity to rest.”

  “Dissolve the meld, my Lord. We shall call on you later, should your services be required.”

  The dragon bowed its huge head towards Brak. “You may wish to take this opportunity to teach the demon child some manners regarding the brethren, Lord Brakandaran. She is sorely in need of education.”

  As soon as he finished speaking, the meld began to dissolve and the dragon disintegrated into a writhing mass of little grey demons that vanished almost as soon as they were free of the meld. Within moments Brak and R'shiel were alone in the clearing.

  “What did you do to upset Dranymire?”

  “Who knows? As he said, I'm sadly lacking in demon etiquette.” She flexed her knees stiffly and looked up at him. “You seem pretty good at it.”

  “I've had several hundred years of practice.”

  “Are you really that old?”

  “Don't I look it?”

  “Actually, you don't look a day over thirty-five.”

  “My family always did carry their age well,” he agreed with a grin, then he sat beside her, his smile fading. “What are you doing here, R'shiel? I thought you were wreaking havoc in Hythria?”

  “I was.”

  Brak laughed.

  “I don't mean that the way it sounds, Brak! Everything was going along fine until High Prince Lernen up and died on me. Then Damin's cousin claimed the throne and then when we got to Greenharbour, Glenanaran and the others were half dead from trying to protect the Sorcerers' Collective. And then Adrina was kidnapped - she's pregnant, by the way - so I had to go and rescue her, and stop Damin launching a suicidal attack on his cousin to defend her honour. If that isn't enough, Korandellan's about to fall over from exhaustion because he's been holding Sanctuary out of time for too long.” She took a deep breath and looked at him expectantly.

  “You've been busy. When did you speak to Korandellan?”

  “A few days ago. I used the Seeing Stone.”

  “My, we have come a long way, haven't we?”

  “Don't patronise me, Brak.”

  “I didn't mean to. But the news about Sanctuary concerns me.”

  “I know. And there's nothing I can do about it until I sort out Hythria and Fardohnya.”

  “Why? Does it really make that much difference? Why not leave them to their bickering and do something about Xaphista? Do something about the situation in Medalon?”

  “I am doing something about Xaphista! At least, I thought I was. That's why I went to Hythria in the first place. As for Medalon, that's where I'm headed next. Tarja will need my help and —”

  “Tarja's been captured, R'shiel.”

  She swallowed hard as her heart relocated itself in her throat. “When? How?”

  “It happened about a month ago. He sank the ferry at Cauthside but didn't get away quickly enough. The Kariens have been waiting for the flood waters to subside, but they've not been idle. They'll be ready to cross the Glass River any day now. Tarja is being taken to the Citadel for trial.”

  “I'm surprised they didn't kill him,” she remarked tonelessly.

  “He's too important. Publicly hanging Tarja in the Citadel will be the Kariens' final and unequivocal declaration of mastery over Medalon. His death will tear the heart out of the resistance.”

  “It'll tear the heart out of more than the resistance,” she said softly, then buried her face in her hands, wishing the whole world would just stop for a while and let her catch her breath.

  “I'm sorry, R'shiel.”

  “I almost wish you hadn't told me.” She straightened suddenly, looking at him curiously. “How do you know all this, anyway?”

  “I have a new friend. She keeps me informed.”

  “She?”

  “The head of the Assassins' Guild is a woman.”

  “How nice for you, Brak.”

  “Now who's being patronising? And you still haven't answered my question. What are you doing in Fardohnya?”

  “Trying to undo the damage I caused. Once the Convocation is held, and Cyrus loses the election, Greenharbour will be under siege within a matter of hours. Damin doesn't have the troops to hold out for long, even with the other Warlords on his side. Their armies are scattered all over Hythria.”

  “I hope you don't expect Hablet to help. He's being very uncooperative. He ordered me out of Fardohnya, actually.”

  “Did you try reasoning with him?”

  “One doesn't use the words 'reason' and 'Hablet' in the same breath. Not when it comes to the Harshini. Or the delicate matter of his heir. Which reminds me, did you know that if he doesn't get a legitimate son, the Fardohnyan throne falls to Damin?”

  She nodded. “Princess Marla told me.”

  “How did Adrina take the news?”

  “As you'd expect.”

  Brak frowned. “And you left them alone in Hythria?”

  “That was the one good thing to come out of all this. Damin and Adrina have finally worked out what everyone else has known for months. Sometimes humans don't know what they've got until they've almost lost it.”

  He smiled. “That sounds very Harshini, R'shiel.”

  She rolled her eyes but did not deny the accusation.

  “So, what do you want to do about Hablet?”

  “Well, if reason won't work, perhaps a show of force will.”

  “I don't like the sound of this.”

  “Brak, I need Hablet's army to set sail for Greenharbour within the week. And I need them to go to Damin's aid, not use it as an excuse to invade Hythria. If Hablet won't listen to reason, then I'll scare him into it, but
either way, I have to stop the civil war in Hythria before it gets out of hand.”

  “Why?”

  She did not answer immediately.

  “R'shiel? Your silence is scaring me. Just exactly what are you cooking up in that devious little mind of yours?”

  She fidgeted uncomfortably under his scrutiny. “I don't intend to let Zegarnald - or any other god - profit from my mistakes.”

  Brak was silent for a moment. “Zegarnald wants you to destroy Xaphista, R'shiel. Aren't you overstepping yourself just a tad?”

  “Zegarnald wanted me 'tempered', remember?” she reminded him bitterly. “Well, he's only got himself to blame if he forged a two-edged sword.”

  Shaking his head, Brak stood up and held out his hand to her. “One day, when we get the time, along with respect for the demons, I think I need to teach you the concept of leaving well enough alone.”

  * * *

  R'shiel and Brak made no attempt to conceal their presence as they flew towards Talabar. Brak rode his metallic green dragon, which Lady Elanymire and her brethren had formed at his request, while R'shiel rode beside him on Dranymire's golden meld. They made an impressive sight swooping down over the city - two creatures from legend and their Harshini dragon riders flying out of the sun to land in the courtyard of the Summer Palace. By the time they had scattered the startled palace guards and the dragons settled to the ground, the city was in an uproar.

  R'shiel climbed down from Dranymire, pleased to discover the short ride had left her capable of walking. “I hope Hablet is in. We're going to look pretty damned foolish making such an impressive entrance if he's not home.”

  “He's home,” Brak assured her, pointing to flags flying proudly over the main entrance to the palace. A tubby, bald-headed man in gloriously expensive silks hurried towards them. His expression was caught somewhere between shock and outrage.

  “What is the meaning of this?” he screeched, panting heavily as he tried to block their path. “You can't enter the palace like this! Who are you? What do you want?”

  “Who is this, Brak?” she asked. Both were drawing on their power and their eyes burned black. Although the courtyard was full of guards, the dragons kept any potential trouble at bay, simply by being dragons.

  “Lector Turon, Your Highness, King Hablet's Chamberlain,” Brak replied in a superior tone.

  Brak was quite an actor when the occasion called for it, R'shiel thought. She bit back a grin at his manner and turned her ebony eyes on the eunuch. “You will take me to the King.”

  “The King cannot be disturbed!”

  “Come, Lord Brakandaran,” she declared dramatically. “This underling is of no use to us. We shall find the King ourselves.”

  She pushed Lector Turon out of the way and began walking across the paved courtyard with Brak at her side. Lector scurried past them, yelling at the top of his voice.

  “Bar the doors! Shut them! Quickly! Protect your King!”

  The guards were quick to respond. The doors boomed shut before R'shiel and Brak reached the steps and shook as the locking bar was dropped into place.

  “He's an annoying little toad, isn't he?”

  “Immensely,” Brak agreed. “What are you going to do about the doors?”

  “What doors?”

  She kept walking as the massive, bronze-plated doors blew outward off their hinges. Everyone but Brak and R'shiel dived for cover.

  “Impressive.”

  “Actually, I wasn't sure that would work,” she admitted, in a voice meant only for Brak. “Shall we go and find the King?”

  “You're enjoying this, aren't you?”

  “Aren't you?”

  He allowed a small smile to flicker over his lips, before he turned back to stare at what was left of the entrance to Hablet's Summer Palace. “I hate to admit it, but yes, I am enjoying it.”

  “Good. I like to see people happy in their work.”

  He followed her up the steps to the entrance, stepping over the debris from the explosion. The dazed guards made no attempt to stop them as they strode past.

  R'shiel glanced around, wondering where Hablet would be hiding - if he was hiding. He might just have the spine to confront her. He was Adrina's father, after all, and she certainly never shied from anything.

  Courtiers, slaves and guards stepped out of their path as they strode through the palace. When they reached the throne room, R'shiel resisted the temptation to blast those doors off their hinges, too. She settled for blowing them open, instead. The long narrow hall was crowded with people clinging to each other fearfully, their silks and jewels quivering as they stared aghast at the sight of two black-eyed and obviously annoyed Harshini striding through their midst.

  They stopped several paces from the foot of the raised dais where Hablet sat, clutching the gilt arms of his throne with white-knuckled terror. It was the only outward sign of his fear. His expression was one of carefully contrived contempt, rather than dread.

  “Who are you?”

  “I am the demon child.”

  “Well, I don't care who you are, young lady, you'll pay for the damage to my palace.” He turned his royal gaze on Brak with a frown. “I thought I told you to leave Fardohnya?”

  “I answer to a higher power than you, Your Majesty.”

  “Well, I don't!” the King declared petulantly. He reminded R'shiel of Adrina when she was in high dudgeon.

  “You will answer to the gods, Hablet,” R'shiel warned, sincerely hoping she would not have to involve them. She wasn't entirely sure they would back her in this.

  “The gods will not betray me!”

  “Perhaps, Your Majesty, but they will do what I ask of them.”

  Hablet stared at her for a moment, weighing up the advisability of defying someone who spoke directly to the gods. He sagged visibly and turned to the Captain of the Guard.

  “Clear the hall.”

  “Sire?”

  “Clear the hall! Everybody out! Now!”

  The captain hurried to do as his King ordered. Within minutes they were alone, the doors slamming shut behind the fearful courtiers as they scurried from the throne room.

  “What do you want?” Hablet asked once he was certain they were alone.

  “I want you to set sail for Hythria, Your Majesty.”

  “Hythria? Your friend here was warning me to stay out of Hythria a few weeks ago, and now you want me to invade it.”

  “You're not going to invade Hythria, Hablet. You're going to relieve the siege at Greenharbour.”

  “What siege?”

  “Your daughter is now the High Princess of Hythria, and her capital is under siege, or at least it will be, by the time you get there.”

  “Adrina? That traitorous little ingrate? Why should I do anything to aid her? She betrayed me and married my worst enemy!”

  “She married the heir to your throne.”

  “I'll die before I let Damin Wolfblade inherit my crown!”

  “That's the whole idea, isn't it?”

  Hablet glared at her. “What do I get out of it?”

  “You leave this room alive, for a start,” R'shiel warned him in a voice so dangerous that even Brak looked at her askance.

  “You can't kill me,” he scoffed. “You're Harshini.”

  “I am the demon child, Hablet. I'm only half-Harshini, and believe me, the human part of me has no qualms about removing people who stand in my way.”

  Hablet rubbed his beard thoughtfully then his eyes narrowed. “If I send my fleet to relieve this siege of Adrina's, I want something in return.”

  “You're hardly in a position to negotiate, Your Majesty.”

  “You think so? Try getting my fleet to move past the end of the docks without my help.”

  Reluctantly, R'shiel had to concede that he had a point. “What do you want?”

  “I want a son. I want a legitimate son.”

  “I can't grant you that.”

  “Oh, so there are limits to what you can do? We
ll, in that case, Adrina and her damned barbarian can rot in Greenharbour and you can kill me now. It won't make much difference either way. If I'm dead, Wolfblade gets my throne, but he won't be in a position to claim it, will he?” Hablet chuckled nastily, daring her to do her worst.

  R'shiel considered the matter. If she acceded to his demand - assuming Jelanna agreed to cooperate - then she would lose her ability to unite Fardohnya and Hythria on Hablet's death. On the other hand, all she really wanted to do was get to the Citadel. It didn't really matter who ruled Fardohnya, just so long as they weren't at war with Damin. He couldn't spare any troops to aid Tarja in ridding Medalon of the Kariens if he was embroiled in a war with either his cousin or his father-in-law. Time was of the essence and she didn't have any spare to waste arguing with Hablet.

  “Very well. I will speak to Jelanna. That's the best I can do. But the first hint that you are exceeding your mandate, Your Majesty, and I will personally see to it that your son withers and dies in the womb.”

  Hablet nodded. If he believed her threat, he did not appear bothered by it. All he wanted was finally getting the heir he craved. He beamed at her happily. “I find myself suddenly warming to you, demon child. I shall issue the orders today and we shall set sail for Greenharbour by week's end. I shall place Gaffen in command. He was always fond of Adrina.”

  “Gaffen?”

  “The second eldest of my baseborn sons. He and Tristan were always finding trouble with Adrina. Speaking of which, you've not mentioned him. I cannot believe he stood idly by while Adrina ran off with a Hythrun Warlord.”

  R'shiel glanced at Brak warily before she answered the King.

  “Tristan is dead, Your Majesty, as is most of the Guard you sent north with Adrina. They were killed fighting the Medalonians.”

  The King paled. His voice was like ice when he finally spoke. “What were they doing fighting the Medalonians?”

  “I believe it was on Prince Cratyn's orders. It was following their death that Adrina fled Karien.”

  Hablet was silent for a long time. His anger was a palpable thing. “Once the situation in Hythria is resolved, you will be confronting the Kariens, yes?”