Treason Keep

by Jennifer Fallon

  “Sir Andony?”

  The young knight glanced at him, his eyes widening in shock.

  “Mikel? What in Xaphista’s name are you doing here?”

  “I have to see the prince, Sir Andony.”

  “Don’t be absurd! What could you possibly need to see the prince for?”

  “It’s about Princess Adrina.”

  Andony was not renowned for his intelligence, but even he understood the implications. He nodded slowly.

  “Wait here.”

  Mikel fidgeted impatiently under the scrutiny of the Karien knights as Andony disappeared inside. In a surprisingly short time, Lord Roache appeared. He grabbed Mikel by the collar and dragged him aside, out of the hearing of the knights and the Defenders alike.

  “What do you know of the princess?” he demanded without preamble.

  “She was here, my Lord.”

  Roache’s expression betrayed nothing of what he was thinking. “Are you certain?”

  He nodded. “I fled Karien with the princess and her servant. The Hythrun captured us the morning after we left. The princess has been here ever since.”

  “And where is her Highness now?”

  “I’m not sure. I think she left with Lord Wolfblade.”

  “I see.”

  “My Lord? There…there is something else you should know.”

  “What?” Lord Roache sounded impatient, as if his mind was already on other things.

  “The princess and Lord Wolfblade…they’re…well…”

  “Out with it, boy!”

  “She was kissing him, my Lord,” Mikel blurted out.

  Roache’s eyes narrowed. “Who else knows of this?”

  “Nobody, my Lord! I—”

  “Come with me,” Roache demanded, not in the least interested in what else Mikel had to say. He pulled Mikel along in his wake and thrust him at Andony.

  “Take the boy back to our camp. Now!” Roache ordered. “You are to stop for no one. Nor must you allow anybody to speak to the child. He is to be held in my tent until I return.”

  Andony nodded, too well conditioned to question his orders. Before he truly understood what was happening Mikel was sitting in front of Andony on his big warhorse, riding away from the Medalonian camp and heading for home.

  It was close to midnight before Roache returned and when he did, he had Prince Cratyn with him. Mikel’s determination to reveal the true depth of Adrina’s treachery wavered in the Prince’s serious presence.

  “Tell his Highness what you told me,” Roache ordered, waking Mikel from a light doze. The boy jumped to his feet and brushed his fingers through his sleep-tousled hair.

  “The Princess is with Lord Wolfblade,” Mikel told Cratyn. The young prince’s expression was shadowed in the light from the smoking brazier.

  “Then she fled to Medalon, not back to Yarnarrow as we thought.”

  “She told me she was going to Fardohnya, your Highness. To seek aid from her father.” Mikel thought it important that he establish his own innocence as soon as possible. “I thought I was following your orders, Sire.”

  “Lying bitch,” Cratyn muttered. “What else?”

  Mikel glanced at Lord Roache uncertainly.

  “Tell him the rest of it, boy.”

  “I saw them kissing, your Highness.”

  “You mean Wolfblade was forcing himself on her?”

  Mikel shook his head sadly. “No, your Highness. She was…well, she didn’t seem to mind at all. She called you…”

  “What? What did she call me?”

  Mikel stared at his boots with determination. “Prince Cretin the Cringing.”

  “I see. And what else did she say?”

  Mikel looked to Lord Roache desperately for help. He didn’t want to repeat what he had heard, despite his promises to himself.

  “The prince must know the truth, boy,” Roach said, almost sympathetically. “Tell him.”

  Mikel nodded and told him everything he had heard. He told him of the meeting on top of the tower. He told him of what he had seen and heard in the stables. He told him everything he knew, although it broke his heart to be the bearer of such dreadful news.

  Cratyn swore under his breath and then turned to Roache. “This is intolerable! I will send a party out to hunt her down. By Xaphista, I will see the bitch burn!”

  “We’ll hunt her down,” Roache agreed. “But do you really want it made public that the wife you couldn’t satisfy turned to a Hythrun for comfort?”

  Cratyn paced the tent angrily. “She can’t be allowed to get away with this!”

  “Nor shall she, but there are other things to consider.”

  “What other things? She has publicly humiliated me!”

  “And she will humiliate you even more, should the truth get out. You do not want to put her on trial, Cratyn.”

  The prince glared at Lord Roache. Mikel seemed all but forgotten.

  “You’re surely not suggesting that I take her back?”

  “Of course not! I am suggesting that you do everything in your power to rescue your wife from the clutches of the barbarian warlord who has kidnapped and raped her. It will be unfortunate, but she will be killed in the attempt.”

  “We’ll have no chance at an heir if she’s killed.”

  “She has been sullied by another man. No heir could come from your union in any case.”

  Cratyn nodded, savagely pleased with the duke’s suggestion.

  “I will lead the rescue party, myself.”

  “That would be most heroic of you, your Highness. Your grief, on the discovery of your wife’s fate, will be inconsolable, of course. But I’m sure you will recover. In time.”

  Cratyn smiled coldly. “I’m sure I will. And what of the boy?”

  Lord Roache glanced at Mikel for a moment before turning back to the prince.

  “Perhaps he should accompany you, your Highness. He can, after all, give testament to your wife’s…indiscretions.”

  The prince nodded. “It would be most unfortunate if something were to happen to him.”

  “Most unfortunate,” Lord Roache agreed.

  Mikel studied the prince and the duke, not at all certain he understood.

  CHAPTER 57

  The darkness into which R’shiel retreated was comforting at first. The memories of the Gathering and everything that had happened since that awful night could gain no toehold here. There was no pain, no unbearable guilt, and no despair. Just blessed emptiness. A nothing place where nobody could hurt her.

  She had been here before. She first discovered it on the road to the Grimfield, when Loclon had chosen her as his instrument of revenge on Tarja. It welcomed her the night she had confronted Loclon and almost succeeded in killing him. For a time, on waking to find herself in Sanctuary amid the Harshini, she had fled there again, until Korandellan’s magic had suppressed her emotions and made it bearable to face reality. It was a tantalising, alluring place, and each time she retreated there, it became a little harder to leave.

  A part of R’shiel still existed in the real world. A part of her responded when someone spoke to her, ate the meals she was served, and rode in the carriage each day staring blindly at the winter-browned plains as they wound their way north. But it was a small part only. Just enough to pretend she was alive.

  Within herself, R’shiel knew that she couldn’t stay here indefinitely. Comforting it might be, but it was her Harshini side that fled from the violence and the pain. Her human side hankered to return, to wreak havoc on those who had caused her suffering.

  It was her human side to whom Xaphista spoke.

  R’shiel didn’t recognise his voice at first. The sensuous, soothing tones seemed like a distant echo that she hardly noticed. It took a long time to recognise it for what it was. It took even longer before she bothered to respond.

  You run from the pain, demon child. Let me ease it for you.

  Calling her the demon child finally evoked a response. She had never liked tha
t name.

  Don’t call me that.

  What would you have me call you?

  Don’t bother calling me anything. Just leave me alone.

  The voice did not reply and R’shiel didn’t particularly care.

  Later, she had no way of judging time in this place, the voice returned. It was stronger, as if by acknowledging it the first time, she had given it strength.

  I can help you, R’shiel.

  How do you know my name?

  All the gods know the name of the demon child.

  Are you a god?

  I am the only god. At least I will be, with your help.

  She laughed sourly. With my help? Why would I want to help you?

  Because I can ease your pain, R’shiel. I can take away the hurt.

  Can you turn back time?

  Of course not.

  Then you can do nothing for me. Go away.

  The voice did as she bid, leaving her alone with her thoughts.

  The living part of R’shiel vaguely noted the changing scenery as the days grew shorter; saw the silver ribbon of the Glass River draw nearer. For some reason, the sight of the broad waterway sparked a brief reaction in her, as if the thought of crossing it would take her beyond redemption.

  You fear crossing the river? the voice asked curiously.

  I fear what it represents.

  It brings you closer to me.

  I can destroy you, Xaphista. Shouldn’t you be the one who fears my approach?

  You need not destroy me, R’shiel. Together we would be invincible.

  Together?

  You would be my High Priestess. We could rule the world.

  Suppose I don’t want to rule the world?

  You are half human.

  That doesn’t mean I crave an empire.

  What do you crave, R’shiel?

  Sanity.

  Xaphista had no answer to that and it was a long time before he spoke to her again.

  They crossed the river in a blustery, cold wind that chopped the mirror-like surface of the water into millions of glittering shards. The sun was high in a pale, cloudless sky, offering no warmth. R’shiel stood by the rail on the barge, oblivious to the cold spray that misted over her as the sailors hauled on the thick rope, pulling the barge across the river with grim determination. The current fought them at every turn. Although they professed to be atheists, the ferrymen muttered among themselves about the wrath of Maera, the River Goddess. They had never known a crossing like it. It was as though the Glass River was alive and determined to prevent them landing on the other side.

  They made it eventually. R’shiel let Terbolt lead her onto dry ground and waited patiently for the rest of their party to disembark. The barge would be busy for two days or more, ferrying the remainder of the troops across. Aware of this, Terbolt commandeered the Heart and Hearth and settled in to wait. R’shiel paid no more attention to her surroundings at the inn than she had when they camped by the road each night on the journey here.

  Garanus came to her at dinnertime and stood over her while she ate. When her meal was finished he sent the tray away and sat beside her. He did the same thing every night. He would talk to her as if she was listening, describing the power of the Overlord, preaching in a rasping, but impassioned voice that R’shiel found more irritating than comforting.

  He pleads my case most eloquently.

  He’s a nuisance. If you truly want to ease my pain, getting rid of Garanus would be a good start.

  As you wish. Without warning, Garanus broke off mid-sentence and left the room. I would give you anything you asked for, R’shiel.

  So long as I promise not to kill you, she added wryly.

  That would be a reasonable expectation, don’t you think?

  You can’t give me what I want, Xaphista.

  I can give you anything. You have but to ask.

  Free me, then. Take this collar from me. Let me feel the power again.

  Ah! I’m not certain I trust you that much, demon child.

  Then what do I need you for? You are the reason for my pain.

  Not I, R’shiel. It is the Primal Gods who want you to suffer.

  The Primal Gods created me.

  And they live in fear of their creation. Who do you think allowed this to happen?

  It is your followers who hold me prisoner.

  For your protection, nothing more. The Primal Gods have interfered in your life enough.

  What are you talking about?

  Can you be so blind, child? They wish to destroy me. Why do you think you were raised in the Citadel? No child raised by the Harshini could contemplate killing, even with human blood.

  Brak seems to manage.

  He is as much a creature of the Primal Gods as you are.

  Are you telling me the Primal gods made Joyhinia adopt me?

  That’s exactly what I’m telling you. They picked the most ruthless, cold-hearted bitch they could find to raise you. How else could they ensure you had the skills to commit murder? They engineered your suffering, R’shiel. They have manipulated you since you were born.

  You’re delusional, Xaphista, as well as power hungry.

  It is you who are deluded. Do you think your love for Tarja is an accident? Or his for you? Of course not! Kalianah made it happen.

  Why?

  Just to make you suffer. Think what it has cost you. Loclon raped you because Tarja loves you.

  The last time I looked, Loclon was on your side. He misjudged her badly if he thought that was going to persuade her to his cause.

  You will see the truth eventually, demon child. I pray that it will not be too late.

  He left her then, leaving R’shiel with a puzzling thought. Xaphista was a god. To whom did he pray?

  They left Cauthside and continued their journey north the third day after the river crossing. Outwardly, R’shiel showed no more interest on this side of the river than she had on the other. Garanus no longer came to her each night to aid her conversion, but little else changed. She woke, she ate, she rode in the carriage, then ate and slept where she was told. The routine never varied; it was unlikely she would have noticed if it had.

  Her retreat was no longer peaceful, though. Her silent haven had been disturbed by Xaphista’s poisonous logic.

  Was she really just a pawn, manipulated since birth to become a weapon the Primal Gods could use against their enemy? Was Tarja’s love for her simply imposed on him? Had the Primal Gods sat back and let Loclon do what he had done to her, hoping it would toughen her up? The idea seemed ludicrous at first, but the longer she thought about it, the more credibility it gained.

  And what of Xaphista? Was he really so evil? And who was she to judge what was evil anyway? Xaphista had hurt her, there was no denying that; her current predicament was entirely attributable to him, but he was fighting for his survival. Were his actions any worse than those of the Primal Gods?

  For the first time since retreating into herself, R’shiel began to hunger for release. It was no longer peaceful here. Memories she had no wish to confront began to plague her. Thoughts she had no wish to contemplate refused to go away.

  You see? Everything you hold dear is a lie, Xaphista told her seductively. Tarja’s love is no more real than this place. The Harshini secretly despise you, else why would they let you leave Sanctuary? Even the Primal Gods fear you. You are a weapon, R’shiel, to be aimed and pointed by whoever holds your heart in his hands. Don’t let them use you.

  You would use me just as soon as the Primal Gods.

  I offer you something in return. I can ease your pain. I can help you.

  How? By suppressing my emotions like the Harshini did? That was simply an illusion and it hurt tenfold when they released it. I’ve no wish to experience it again.

  I can do better than that, demon child. I can take away the memories that pain you.

  Those memories make me who I am.

  Then perhaps you should think about who you would rather be.

/>   I won’t be your pawn, Xaphista.

  I offer you a partnership, R’shiel, not bondage.

  Perhaps, she thought once he was gone. But when it comes to the gods, who can tell the difference?

  CHAPTER 58

  Tarja set a gruelling pace as they fled the border. Jenga had promised to stall the Kariens as long as he was able, but even in Tarja’s most optimistic estimate that gave them a start of only a day or two. Adrina kept up and didn’t complain, despite the fact that her backside felt bruised to the bone and her inner thighs were rubbed raw. They ate cold rations when they stopped each night, and collapsed into their bedrolls under an open sky.

  As a child Adrina had been entranced by the bards who sang long, romantic ballads about lovers on the run who spent all day galloping toward freedom and all night making love. What utter nonsense, she thought, dismounting gingerly in the small grove of trees Tarja had chosen for their camp that night. Damin proved to be more human than heroic. He looked tired and haggard and even he walked a bit stiffly, despite a lifetime spent in the saddle. For some reason his discomfort made her feel a little better.

  Their numbers had thinned considerably since they left the border. Following Damin’s lead, Tarja had broken his men into much smaller groups and dispatched them south with orders to muster at an abandoned vineyard south of Testra, where he seemed to think they would be safe until he could join them. There were barely a hundred men left, and less than half of those were Damin’s Raiders. The rest were Defenders and the remainder of her Guard. When they crossed the Glass River at Cauthside, they would split up once more. Tarja and his men would head for the Citadel, while Damin continued south for Hythria.

  Adrina knew the reason for Tarja’s mission, although he rarely spoke of it.

  Something had happened to R’shiel.

  Adrina prayed it was nothing serious. Tarja would not rest until he discovered the demon child’s fate. It was a pity she would never meet her. Although she was careful not to broach the subject, R’shiel fascinated Adrina. Damin spoke of her in such glowing terms that she might have been jealous, but for two very good reasons. The first was Tarja. He was so completely besotted with the girl, that if he thought Damin’s motives were anything but honourable, he’d have killed the Warlord long ago. The second was Damin. Jealousy would imply she had some feeling for the man, and of course she didn’t, so there was nothing to be jealous about.