“Hiding is for women.”
“And very smart men,” the Warlord retorted.
It was late afternoon before they located Almodavar and the rest of their band. The Hythrun captain had done an excellent job of concealing their presence. But for some scattered tracks heading toward the tree-line, there was nothing to indicate that more than a hundred men were concealed among the trees. Tarja looked around the camp with approval. The Hythrun seemed to lack discipline, but when it really counted, they did exactly as they were ordered.
Adrina hurried forward as they rode into the camp. The change in her was quite remarkable, Tarja thought. She seemed to have shed her spoilt outer shell. She had ridden without complaint, as though she was trying to prove she was worthy of the danger they had placed themselves in by offering her protection. Her face brightened at Damin’s approach, revealing far more than she meant to.
Tarja was wary of Damin’s relationship with Adrina. It was fraught with danger and long-term ramifications that did not bear thinking about. Despite the insistence of both Damin and Adrina that the relationship meant nothing, Tarja could see the danger signs. Adrina never strayed far from Damin and he was prepared to risk his life to keep her by his side. Tarja understood what it was like to be willing to lay down your life for someone you loved. He wondered how long it would be before the Hythrun Warlord and the Fardohnyan Princess worked it out for themselves.
“Cratyn’s coming!” Adrina cried as Damin dismounted.
Damin looked over her shoulder at Almodavar who approached them at a much more dignified pace.
“She speaks the truth, my Lord. Jenga sent a messenger to warn us.”
Tarja dismounted and let Shadow be led away by one of his own men who had clustered around them, anxious for news.
“How far behind us?”
“A day or two, three at the outside.”
“This could make things interesting,” Damin remarked laconically.
Adrina punched his arm impatiently. “Interesting? Don’t you realise the danger we’re in?”
Tarja understood Adrina’s annoyance. Damin had a bad habit of treating everything as if it was some sort of elaborate game. His refusal to take anything seriously could be frustrating at times. In this case it was downright dangerous.
“She has a point, Damin.”
“What’s the problem?” he shrugged. “We’ve already agreed that it would be insane to take the Defenders on. We can’t go overland—it will slow us down too much—so we hide. The Defenders will ride by us, none the wiser.”
“And run straight into Cratyn,” Tarja reminded him. “What do you think will happen then?”
“If we’re lucky, they’ll wipe each other out,” the Warlord chuckled.
“Be serious!”
Damin had the decency to look contrite. “You’re right. If Cratyn knows when we left, and we haven’t been seen by the Defenders, even he should be able to figure out that we’re around here somewhere.”
“Can’t we slip past the Defenders?” Adrina asked hopefully. There was an edge of desperation in her voice.
Tarja shook his head. “Not a chance.”
“Then we go overland,” Damin said, no happier with the idea than Tarja. But at least this way they would have a chance of avoiding the two forces that were inexorably closing in on them. But it took him away from the Citadel. Away from R’shiel.
“If we start moving now, we can put a few leagues between us and the Defenders by nightfall.”
The Warlord nodded and ordered Almodavar to get everyone moving. Tarja’s stomach rumbled in complaint, reminding him that he had missed lunch as Damin led Adrina away, his arm around her shoulder.
As he watched the retreating couple he frowned. He should have put a stop to it. That he would have had more chance of stopping the sun rising tomorrow did little to ease his concern. Were it not for Adrina, Cratyn would more than likely have ignored the Hythrun refusal to surrender. What were a thousand Hythrun to a man who could muster a hundred thousand men? If Cratyn was simply chasing down his errant wife, then it was bad enough. If anyone suspected that she and Damin were lovers, and shared their suspicions with the prince, Cratyn wouldn’t rest until every last person who knew of the liaison was dead. He was the Karien Crown Prince and his religion demanded the most terrible vengeance he could wreak. Adrina’s infidelity could not be forgiven—it could only be washed away in blood.
It was slow going as they picked their way cross country. The terrain was hard on the horses. One minute they were climbing, the next descending, and although the slopes were not steep, the horses had been ridden hard for days now. By the time darkness fell, and with it the temperature, even some of the magnificent Hythrun horses, renowned for their stamina, were stumbling. Tarja called a halt and ordered them to make camp, but refused to allow any fires. The chance of being spotted by a Defender scout was too real to be ignored.
Tarja hobbled his mount and finally got around to eating something long after dark, although hard cheese and jerky barely counted as a meal. He had been spoilt, he decided, living on the border. There was a time when he didn’t mind trail rations. Had he been tougher then—or just less discerning, he wondered?
“Tarja?”
He turned, a little surprised to find Adrina weaving her way among the picketed horses toward him. Her breath frosted in the moonlight and she held her borrowed jacket tightly closed against the cold.
“I thought you’d be asleep by now.”
“Sleep?” she laughed humourlessly. “That’s a joke. Who can sleep with a thousand Defenders over the next hill and the Kariens riding us down?”
“You need to rest, then, even if you can’t sleep. The last few days are going to seem like a picnic compared to what lies ahead.”
She reached up and patted Shadow’s forelock. The mare nuzzled her hopefully for a moment then returned to her feedbag when she decided the princess had nothing better to offer.
“Can I ask you something, Tarja?”
“I suppose.”
“If I wasn’t here, you wouldn’t be doing this, would you?”
She knew the answer as well as he did. He wondered what was really behind the question.
“Cratyn probably wouldn’t be on our tail, but we’d still be hiding from the Defenders. You can’t blame yourself for that.”
She smiled. “Actually, I’m a little surprised at myself. Taking the blame for things is not my style. I’ve never been known for my selflessness.”
Tarja found that very easy to believe.
“I keep thinking I should just go back to Cratyn and be damned.”
“What good would that do?” He hoped he hadn’t let his astonishment show. Such an offer from Adrina verged on the miraculous.
“R’shiel is missing, Tarja. You should be helping her, not saving me from my own stupidity.” She smiled self-consciously, as if she was startled to have made such an admission. “I have a feeling that the demon child is more important in the general scheme of things than one disgruntled princess.”
“She’s right, Tarja.”
Brak appeared out of nowhere a pace behind Adrina. The princess spun around, startled by the unexpected voice. A thousand questions leapt to Tarja’s mind at the sight of him, but one question overrode every other, even his astonishment at Brak’s sudden return:
“Where is R’shiel?”
“Closer than you think,” Brak replied, then he bowed to Adrina. “You must be Hablet’s girl. Adrina, isn’t it? The one who married Cratyn?”
“Who are you?” she demanded. “Tarja? Who is he?”
“Brakandaran,” Tarja told her, fighting to keep an even temper. What in the name of the Founders had happened to R’shiel? How did Brak get here? “He’s Harshini. He was supposed to be looking after R’shiel.”
“You can’t blame Brak, Tarja, it wasn’t his fault.”
Tarja started at the new voice and turned to find Dace standing behind him. The God of Thieves was grinn
ing broadly, rather pleased with the effect of his dramatic entrance.
“What are you doing here?”
“You know, most people would prostrate themselves when confronted with a god,” Dace pointed out, a little miffed at Tarja’s less-than-enthusiastic reception.
“I’m not ‘most people’. What happened to R’shiel?”
“That’s a god?” Adrina asked. She looked awestruck, but then, she was a pagan. Being confronted with one of her gods probably meant a great deal more to her than it meant to him.
“Unfortunately, yes. This is Dacendaran. He’s supposed to be the God of Thieves, I think. Personally, I think he’s the God of Unreliable Fools.”
“Don’t be absurd, Tarja, there’s no such entity. If you’re going to be like that, then I won’t help you.”
“That’s an empty threat under the circumstances,” Brak remarked.
“But he can’t be a god,” Adrina scoffed. “I’ve seen him in the Defenders’ camp. He was hanging around with Mikel.”
“My newest and most fervent…no actually, he’s more like a reluctant disciple.”
“Brak, what the hell is going on?”
He held up his hand wearily to stay Tarja’s avalanche of questions. “Look, I know I have a lot of explaining to do, and I will, I promise. But let’s find Damin first. I don’t want to have to go over this more than once.”
CHAPTER 60
“Before I tell you where R’shiel is,” Brak began, looking at each one of them in turn, “I have to explain a few things.”
They had gathered around a brightly burning fire, safe in the knowledge that Brak’s magic concealed them from prying eyes. Tarja was sceptical when he promised they wouldn’t be seen, and his men were decidedly edgy, but even Almodavar seemed satisfied with the Harshini’s assurance that he was protecting them. The fire warmed them more than it should have, and he wondered if Brak’s magic was responsible for that too. The half-Harshini’s eyes were completely black, a sure sign he was drawing on his power. It reminded Tarja sharply how alien the Harshini really were.
“You’d better tell them the rules, too,” Dace added.
“What rules?” Tarja asked warily.
“I’ll get to that. There are other things you must understand first.”
Tarja shifted restlessly. He knew from experience how futile it was to demand answers from Brak when he wasn’t ready to give them. Damin sat on his left, with Adrina curled up beside him. On the other side of the fire sat Almodavar, Ghari and Dace, who seemed quite content to let Brak do the talking.
“As you’ve probably figured out by now,” Brak continued, “the Kariens were waiting for us when we reached the Citadel.”
“I tried to warn you,” Dace interjected.
“You knew they were waiting for you? Why in the name of the Founders didn’t you turn back?”
“Dace warned us Xaphista had believers in the Citadel, Tarja. Even he didn’t know Terbolt and his priests were there.”
“So much for the infallibility of the gods.”
Dace glared at him, but let the comment pass.
“It wouldn’t have mattered if Dace had given us the disposition of every Karien on the continent, there were forces at work that would have seen to it that we didn’t succeed.”
“How could you fail with the gods on your side?” Adrina scoffed.
“That’s just the point. The only side the gods care about is their own.”
Dace snorted with disgust at the comment, but he seemed unusually reticent tonight and offered no other sign of his displeasure.
“Anyway, we reached the Citadel and everything went according to plan until Joyhinia appeared at the Gathering. The real Joyhinia that is, as lucid as she ever was.”
“How? I destroyed her wit. Her mind was gone.”
“The Karien priests found her another mind and transferred it into her body. Once Joyhinia appeared things fell apart fairly rapidly. The demon meld collapsed and R’shiel couldn’t hold the coercion. She was discovered within minutes of Terbolt’s appearance. Mahina was arrested. Draco’s dead, by the way. So is Affiana.”
“And just what were you doing while R’shiel was being arrested?” Tarja asked, his voice dangerous. The news that that man who fathered him was dead meant little to him. He was more concerned about Mahina. He was sick with worry about R’shiel.
“I was also being detained—by Zegarnald.”
Damin sat bolt upright and stared at the Harshini in astonishment. “The God of War prevented you from going to the demon child’s aid? That makes no sense. He delivered her to me for safekeeping. Why would he allow her to fall into the hands of his enemies?”
“The Kariens are your enemies, Damin, not Zegarnald’s. Xaphista is his adversary and that’s all he’s interested in.”
“I don’t understand,” Adrina said, giving voice to Tarja’s own confusion.
“The only reason the gods allowed R’shiel to be created was their need to destroy Xaphista. They’re not interested in anything else. The demon child has a job to do and they want to be damned sure she’s capable of doing it.”
“You mean they want to know if she can kill?”
“She can do that readily enough,” Ghari warned her. “Ask anyone who knew her in the rebellion.”
Brak nodded. “That’s not what concerns them. They’re more worried that Xaphista will win her over to his cause. She can kill a god. Which god she destroys is entirely up to her.”
“So they let the Kariens capture her? Isn’t that rather counter-productive?” Damin asked.
“Zegarnald’s theory is that if she is going to succumb to Xaphista, he’d rather know now, before she fully realises what she is capable of.”
“He wants to find out while there’s still a chance she be can killed,” Tarja translated for the benefit of the others. “That’s your job, isn’t it, Brak?”
The Harshini dropped his eyes.
Adrina looked at Tarja in confusion before turning back to Brak. “But what happened to R’shiel?”
“She was taken prisoner.”
“And then what?” Damin asked. He knew Brak, too; knew they had yet to hear the worst of it.
“You recall I said the Kariens transferred another mind into Joyhinia’s body? Well it wasn’t just any mind.” Brak looked straight at Tarja. “It was Loclon’s mind.”
Tarja experienced a moment of such blind, mindless rage that he thought he might explode from it. He didn’t say a word. He just sat there, trembling, clenching his fists in helpless fury. The others looked at him curiously, sensing his mood but unaware of the reason for it. Nobody but Brak, Dace and Tarja knew of what Loclon had done to R’shiel in the past. They didn’t understand.
“I gather from the look on Tarja’s face that this Loclon is not a very nice person?” Damin asked flippantly. Tarja turned on him with such fury that the Warlord leaned back, out of his reach. “Sorry…Just trying to lighten the mood. I’ll shut up.”
“That would be a very good idea,” Adrina agreed sternly.
Brak resumed his narrative, looking almost as annoyed at Damin as Adrina was. “If you need details, I’ll let Tarja fill you in if he wants to. Suffice to say that Loclon has harmed R’shiel in the past. Enough that he’s probably the only thing in this world she truly fears. R’shiel’s feelings for Joyhinia aren’t much better. Being confronted by both of them in the one body was more than she could take.”
“Did he kill her?” Tarja asked. His voice was colder than the night.
Brak shook his head. “He roughed her up a bit, but he couldn’t risk killing her. But for a few cuts and bruises, physically she’s fine.”
“Physically?”
“You remember the night we escaped the Grimfield?”
“I’m not likely to forget it.”
“Then you recall what happened to R’shiel after she tried to kill Loclon? How she retreated into herself?”
Tarja nodded. “She was like it for days.”
> “Well that’s basically what’s happened to her now. She’s alive, she speaks, she eats; but R’shiel is not there.”
“You mean she’s in some sort of coma?” Adrina asked.
“Not exactly. Tarja knows what I mean. He’s seen her like this before.”
“Then how do we wake her?”
“We can’t. She has to come back of her own accord.”
“If she wants to come back,” Dace reminded Brak.
“What do you mean?”
Brak sighed. “Wherever she is, it’s more than likely Xaphista is there too.”
“Then only the gods can reach her? Why don’t you do something, Dacendaran?”
“I’m not allowed to, Damin,” the young god replied. “Zeggie says she has to turn away from Xaphista of her own accord, or when it comes time to face him she’ll simply give in.” He looked around the fire-lit circle of faces, begging for understanding. “Look, I’m going to be in enough trouble for freeing Brak. I’d help if I could, but with all these wars going on, Zegarnald is as strong as he’s ever been. Unless you can start some sort of worldwide crime wave, I haven’t the strength to defy him.”
“Then how can Xaphista get to her?” Tarja asked. He didn’t have the benefit of a pagan education. He was floundering with all this talk of gods.
“Xaphista gains his strength from his believers and he’s got millions of them. That’s why the Primal Gods fear him.”
“But she’s half-Harshini, isn’t she?” Damin pointed out. “Why didn’t she just call on her power and escape herself?”
“The priests have blocked her power. They’re using some sort of collar I’ve never seen before. If she tries to touch the source of her power it burns. If she manages to get past that, the pain is intolerable. Not even the demons can reach her.”
Tarja watched Brak, wondering how much of what he told them was conjecture and how much he knew to be fact.
“So what is Xaphista doing to her?” Adrina wondered aloud.
“I doubt if he’s hurting her,” Brak shrugged. “If anything he’ll be trying to coax her to follow him. He doesn’t need to kill R’shiel to remove the threat. He just needs her on his side.”
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