Treason Keep

by Jennifer Fallon

  “Send for her.”

  Terbolt nodded and went to the entrance. He pushed back the tent flap and issued the order then returned to his wine.

  “You’ve not told me what brings you out here, your Highness.”

  “Adrina has been kidnapped by the Hythrun. They left the border just before Jenga surrendered.”

  Terbolt looked genuinely horrified. “Gods! How did they get across the border? Wasn’t she guarded?”

  “I believe my wife may have…contributed…to her own capture,” Cratyn said cautiously. He didn’t want to admit to Lord Terbolt that she had run away.

  The duke frowned. “I was never happy with this arrangement, Cratyn. You know that. I would far rather you had married my daughter.”

  “And I would much rather have married Chastity, my Lord.”

  “There’s not much we can do about it now, I suppose,” Terbolt said with a sigh.

  “Not much.” Cratyn sipped his wine and studied the duke over the rim of his cup. “Unless of course, something were to happen to my wife.”

  “Your Highness?”

  “She has been kidnapped by the Hythrun, after all. You know what barbarians they are. They might do anything. For that matter, they may even kill her.” He had heard Cratyn express the same sentiment to Drendyn, but never so coldly, so calmly.

  “That would be a great shame,” Terbolt agreed, with the same, bland expression. If Mikel had not heard it for himself, he wouldn’t have believed the duke could agree to such a thing so easily. “Are you sure they came this way? We’ve seen no sign of them.”

  Before Cratyn could answer the tent flap was thrown open and a Defender stepped inside. He saluted sharply before speaking.

  “R’shiel is not in her tent, my Lord. If you would tell me where she has been moved, I will have her brought here immediately.”

  “What do you mean she’s not in her tent?”

  “She was moved a short time ago, sir. The captain who collected her said that it was at your request. I thought perhaps—”

  “I gave no such orders! Who was the captain?”

  “I don’t know, sir. The troopers on duty didn’t recognise him.”

  Cratyn leapt to his feet, knocking over the chair in his haste. “It was Tarja Tenragan! I’d stake my life on it!”

  “I don’t see how—”

  “He was with them! Don’t you see? That’s why we’ve found no sign of the Hythrun. They’ve been hiding, waiting for their chance to rescue the demon child. Who else could it be?”

  Terbolt thought about it for less then a minute. “How long ago did they take her, Captain?”

  “A quarter of an hour, perhaps, my Lord, no more.”

  “Then they’ll still be in the camp somewhere. Rouse your men, Captain! We have intruders among us. R’shiel must not be allowed to escape. And I want Tarja Tenragan. I don’t particularly care whether he’s dead or alive.”

  The Defender saluted sharply enough, but it was clear, even to Mikel, that he did not care for his orders. Cratyn was pacing the tent impatiently. As soon as the Medalonian had left, he turned to Terbolt.

  “If Tarja is here, then Wolfblade is out there somewhere too. And that means Adrina is with them.”

  Terbolt nodded and reached for his sword. “Then the hunting should be good tonight. Tarja Tenragan’s head will make an excellent trophy.”

  “You can mount it over the gates of Yarnarrow Castle,” Cratyn agreed with bloodthirsty enthusiasm. “Right next to that bitch Adrina’s.”

  CHAPTER 62

  As R’shiel’s days blurred into each other, she knew they were getting closer and closer to Karien. Every day took her nearer to the decision she realised she would soon have to make. The decision that might cost her her life.

  Xaphista spoke to her often, coaxing one minute, taunting the next. As they neared the border his attempts to win her over developed an edge of desperation which R’shiel found inexplicable. They were nearing the place where he was strongest. If anything, she thought he might have begun to relax.

  She was led to her tent once the camp was set up, and went inside without complaint. The priests left her alone now. Even Terbolt showed no interest in her. She was simply the package that he was escorting north. He had no interest in social intercourse, even assuming that R’shiel would have responded to it.

  Loneliness can destroy the soul, R’shiel.

  How can I be lonely with you filling my head, day and night?

  I would be a good friend, demon child. I would never allow you to be lonely.

  You need to study humans a bit more, Xaphista. Promising that you’ll never leave me alone is hardly a pleasant thought.

  Is it pleasure you seek? I can give you more pleasure than you could possibly imagine.

  You don’t understand pleasure.

  Then you shall teach me to understand. Tell me what you want and I will learn.

  Why are you so desperate?

  Why are you so stubborn?

  When R’shiel refused to answer, he went away.

  Later that evening, after her barely touched meal had been removed by a silent priest, she lay on her pallet and pondered her fate consciously for the first time since her capture.

  Her chances of rescue were remote. Brak would have come to her already if he could. The demons were linked to her power and she could not call them without invoking the pain of the collar. Tarja was on the border, probably already in the custody of the Kariens and awaiting execution. Damin Wolfblade was either a prisoner of the Kariens himself or fleeing for Hythria. The Harshini would not bestir themselves from Sanctuary with so many Karien priests abroad and the Primal Gods…well, if Xaphista were to be believed, it was their fault she was in this mess in the first place.

  As she ran through the list of those who might come to her aid, she realised that she was truly on her own. If she was to be saved—if she wanted to be saved—she was going to have to do something about it herself.

  The Harshini power that made her what she was lurked tantalisingly out of reach. She knew it was there; could feel it beckoning, but the pain that barred her way was stronger than any wall. The only way to access it was to get rid of the collar, and Xaphista would not allow that to happen until he was certain that she was completely and utterly his. There was no point in pretending. He was a god. He could see into her soul. If he willingly removed the collar, it would be because he knew that she was no longer a threat to him.

  Escape that way was no escape at all.

  Or perhaps it was. Perhaps he was right. Why should she do the bidding of the Primal Gods who had been responsible for so much of her suffering? Why shouldn’t she join with Xaphista? A lifetime of comfort lay down that path. As the High Priestess of the Overlord, she would know unlimited power. She could have anything she wanted. Xaphista would destroy Loclon if she asked. He could spare Tarja if she demanded it.

  Anything you want.

  The idea was very, very tempting.

  Come to me, demon child. Now!

  R’shiel didn’t answer immediately. Besides the weighty nature of the decision she faced, there were voices outside that sounded vaguely familiar. She sat up, straining to hear the exchange. Then the tent flap opened and Tarja stepped through.

  He stared at her wordlessly for a moment. The guttering candle by the pallet only served to highlight his shock at her appearance. Her bruises had faded, and her hair had grown out enough so that at least she didn’t have bald patches any more, but she knew she looked terrible. She was thin and wasted and so deep into herself that she found herself unable to return.

  “R’shiel?”

  Do I look so bad that he doesn’t recognise me?

  Turn away from him, demon child. He cannot offer you the succour that I can. Come to me now, child. Everything you ever wanted rests with me.

  But Xaphista was wrong. Everything she ever wanted stood before her, with a look of shock and despair on his face.

  His presence seemed to
give her an anchor. She clung to it, like a climber pulling himself hand over hand up a long rope, out of a hole so deep the top was merely a speck of light in the distance.

  “R’shiel? Do you know who I am?”

  She nodded. It was the best she could do.

  A small relieved smile flickered over his lips then he stepped closer and gently took her hand.

  “I’m taking you out of here,” he explained, as if he knew how hard she was trying to comprehend. “We have to walk away like nothing’s wrong.”

  You will never know peace if you turn from me now!

  She nodded again, not capable of speaking. Tarja held open the flap and she walked forward, her footsteps taking all her concentration.

  He doesn’t even love you! Not really. Kalianah forced it on him. Only I can love you like you want to be loved.

  R’shiel fell in with the guard brought to escort her from the tent. Tarja walked by her side. He was so tense she could feel it radiating off him like light from the sun.

  You will not defeat me, demon child.

  She ignored him, understanding now that her responses gave him power over her. Acknowledging his presence was only a step away from worshipping him and it was worship that gave this elevated demon his strength.

  You will find that all you believe in is a lie. Then, when you come to face me, I will not be so understanding. You will suffer for this.

  Then the collar started to burn.

  CHAPTER 63

  Adrina waited in the darkness with Tamylan, holding the six horses that would take Damin, her and Tamylan, Almodavar and the two other Raiders Damin had chosen to accompany them to freedom. The entire band would split into similar small groups and scatter in every direction. The plan was to give the Defenders so many targets that they wouldn’t know which was the one they sought. She wasn’t even sure which direction they would head, but it would be opposite to the one Tarja and Brak took with R’shiel. There was no point in making things any easier for their adversaries than it already was.

  They had said their goodbyes earlier and Tarja had surprised her by seeking her out. As he had always maintained a distance between them, the spectre of her brother’s death prevented them ever becoming close, she found his gesture quite out of character. He had led her away a short distance from the others as they were preparing to depart.

  “If we succeed, we may never meet again, your Highness.”

  “I respect you, Tarja, but not enough to hope we fail on the off-chance we might become friends.”

  “Then can a would-be friend give you some parting advice?”

  “If you think it will do any good. Listening to advice isn’t one of my strong suits either.”

  He smiled for a moment, then his expression grew serious. “Decide what you plan to do about Damin, and sooner rather than later.”

  “What’s to decide? I know he’s your friend, Tarja, but don’t mistake his actions for anything noble. He doesn’t want a Karien heir to my father’s throne. It’s really that simple.”

  Tarja shook his head. “Kid yourself all you want, Adrina. He’s in love with you. Probably almost as much as you are with him.” He held up his hand to forestall her protest. “Don’t bother to deny it. The only two people in Medalon who can’t see what’s going on are you and Damin.”

  “You’re imagining things!” she scoffed.

  “Am I?” he asked. “In that case, it doesn’t matter where you go, simply that you stay free of Cratyn. I’ll go and tell Damin you’ve decided to come with R’shiel and me instead, shall I? That way he’s free to head back to Hythria and you can—”

  “No!” Her panic at his suggestion had surprised her.

  He smiled. “See? It’s not really that simple at all, is it?”

  Adrina was not willing to concede the unthinkable. “You’re jumping to conclusions, Tarja. If I go with Damin, I’ll be closer to home. The gods alone know where you and R’shiel are liable to wind up.”

  Tarja shook his head and smiled knowingly. “Have it your way, your Highness. But don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

  He leaned forward and kissed her cheek, then led her back to the others.

  Have it your way. Adrina stamped her feet against the cold and replayed the conversation in her mind. It was her own fault, she knew. These Medalonians simply didn’t understand. She’d had scores of lovers…well, that was an exaggeration, but she’d had several. They were fun for a while and then they left. Of course, they had all been court’esa, and in the employ of her father, but that didn’t make them any less intimate…well…maybe it did. A court’esa’s livelihood depended on their ability to satisfy and entertain their employer. She was the king’s daughter so she had only ever been provided with the very best.

  Damin was her first—her only—lover who didn’t need her approval or her patronage. He didn’t need her wealth. He did not need her position to advance himself. He could not even marry her as she was already married to someone else. On the contrary, he courted danger by courting her.

  Perhaps that was the attraction for him. It certainly wasn’t love. The heir to the Hythrun throne did not fall in love with the King of Fardohnya’s eldest daughter. That, along with lovers who rode all day and made love all night, belonged in a bard’s tale. It was the sort of plot one could expect to find in a badly acted tragedy by a band of travelling minstrels. It simply didn’t happen in real life.

  She would not allow it to happen.

  One of the horses snorted irritably. Adrina patted the gelding’s neck, whispering soothing nothings to him, hoping nobody could hear them. What in the name of the gods is taking them so long? Adrina peered into the darkness, wishing she knew how long they had been waiting. It seemed to be forever, but she was not good at judging time. Others who took care of such mundane things had always regulated her life. She glanced at Tamylan who was standing by the other horses. The day’s rest had done her good, but she was still stiff and sore. She held the reins, standing close to the horses for warmth, her whole body listening for danger.

  Perhaps I should ask Tam what she thinks?

  Adrina knew that if asked for, Tamylan’s opinion would be as honest as it was tactless.

  I should do something for her when we get home. Free her, maybe, and gift her with some property. Enough that she need never work again. She really has been a tower of strength through all of this. I wonder what I ever did to deserve such loyalty?

  Not much, that Adrina could recall.

  How did I ever come to this? she wondered. I am standing here in the dead of the night, freezing to death, a bare fifty paces from a camp full of Defenders, in the middle of nowhere and the only people I can count as my friends are a slave, a man wanted for murder and an enemy warlord.

  Which brought her back to wondering about Damin.

  She was determined not to believe what Tarja told her, but when they had sneaked away into the darkness Damin had slipped back to kiss her goodbye. It was, short, hard and passionate. Not the kiss of a lover, but the kiss of a daredevil stealing a moment of pleasure in the midst of danger.

  He wasn’t in love with anyone but himself.

  All thoughts of Damin Wolfblade’s failings were suddenly forgotten as a high-pitched, agonised scream split the night. The horses reared at the sound, almost jerking Adrina’s arm out of its socket. She and Tamylan struggled to keep the beasts under control as all hell broke loose in the Defenders’ camp.

  Torches flared brightly as the camp was roused, the sound of shouting, of orders issued then countermanded, overlaid the screams that tore into Adrina’s soul.

  The screams were female. Whoever it was, she sounded like she was dying.

  “Mount up, Tam!” she whispered urgently. When Damin and the others made it out of the camp, every second would count. The shouting grew closer and the torches were so near that she could see the flames clearly, although the fold of the land still concealed their bearers. Tam scrambled into the saddle of the nearest horse, but d
ropped the reins of the other two. With a curse, Adrina kicked her mount forward and leaned down to reach for the reins of the nearest beast.

  “Go! Get out of here! Now!”

  She turned toward the shout and discovered Damin, Almodavar and one of the Raiders barrelling down the small slope behind them. On their heels were so many Defenders she could not begin to count them. She froze for a moment, torn between escape and assuring herself that Damin would win free of his pursuers.

  “Run!” Damin screamed, seeing her hesitation.

  The slope was swarming with Defenders now. Torches dotted their ranks, lighting their red coats in scattered patches along the ridge like drops of hot blood. Tam gave up trying to catch the other horse and looked to her mistress desperately.

  “Adrina! Let’s go!”

  She wavered for another instant. Long enough to see first Almodavar and then the Raider, overcome by the Defenders. But Damin still ran free.

  Turning her horse savagely, she galloped toward him. Tam’s desperate cry of protest was drowned out by the shouts of the Defenders and the tortured screams that tore relentlessly through the darkness. The gap between them narrowed as the distance between Damin and the Defenders closed even faster.

  The arrow, when it hit her in the shoulder, took her completely by surprise. She toppled from the saddle just as Damin reached her and that was only seconds before the Defenders overcame them both.

  She had time to notice that the screams had stopped, just before she fainted.

  When Adrina came to she was in a tent, which was bare of anything but the centre pole supporting the roof. She realised there was another body that lay groaning softly on the other side of the tent. She rolled over and cried out in pain. Her shoulder ached abominably and her fingers came away sticky with blood when she gently probed the source of her agony.

  She tried to recall what had happened, but the details were sketchy. She remembered trying to help Damin. And the screams. Gods, she would never forget the screams. Something had hit her and she had fallen. Had Damin won free? She seemed to recall seeing his face, his eyes full of anger. Why had he been angry? Because I tried to come to his rescue? Typical.