“We need to move faster. I’m surprised you all don’t have horses. And I’m annoyed that I agreed to walk while mine is being pulled along at the back of the line, there.”
“Well, you didn’t have much of a choice about that. And we don’t have horses because while they’re convenient, they are ultimately more mouths to feed, more food we need to find or grow… it’s just not worth it to us.” Daarik clapped the other male on the shoulder. “But I am glad your horse is here. You have no problem with me borrowing it, yes?”
“Who am I to argue with a king?” Kinari asked dryly, and Daarik grinned before moving to the back of the line. He took the horse’s reins, and Janara ran up to him.
“You can’t do that,” she said.
“I’m going to go ahead. You will catch up.”
“What if they attack while we are marching? What if we run in to Jarvik? What if you get there and she’s…” She trailed off, clearly not wanting to say the words.
“You keep telling me she’ll be fine,” Daarik reminded her.
“I know. But if you find the worst, I don’t want you to face it alone.”
“We need to get to her.”
“Let me go, then,” Janara said, even as he started shaking his head. “Let me go ahead and find her. I’ll make my way to Tanris. Maybe we’ll get lucky and you’ll be able to hear her soon,” she said, glancing toward his arm, where his mating mark was hidden beneath his tunic and leather armor. “But even if you’re able to talk to her, someone needs to get to her quickly. And as much as you want that to be you, the fact of the matter is that you are our king. Our people need you. Your father would have said the same thing, that your heart, your needs, come after the needs of our people. It has always been so.”
Daarik closed his eyes, then nodded, handing the horse’s reins over to his cousin.
“I’m a better rider than you, anyway,” Janara said as she swung up onto the horse.
“Be careful.”
“Of course. I’ll meet you at Tanris.”
Daarik nodded and watched as his cousin galloped ahead, the horse’s hooves leaving clouds of dust in her wake. He made his way back to the front of the column and gripped his ax.
He wished they’d run into Jarvik, or some rogue humans, or some Sarlene if they ever gained the courage to leave their ships. He was nothing but rage and nervous energy, and even the interminable marching did nothing to alleviate it.
He knew he was a good ruler to his people, but he hated it. Every second of it, the responsibility he’d never asked for or wanted. He was a warrior, a fighter, a soldier. This whole idea of his life being important, of his presence being required for his people, felt like a farce. He had watched his father, who, until Jarvik got involved, was a phenomenal king, keeping them alive and well when they were in hiding, making the decision to go to war against the humans when even their hidden encampment was threatened by the droughts and famine the humans had caused. He had led their army through the war and emerged victorious, the king of not one, but two peoples. He had tried to do the kind thing and let the humans keep their royals as well, to give them some sense of independence. In truth, all it had earned Elrek were more headaches as the humans continually tested his resolve, pushing their boundaries, making raids on some of the smaller Maarlai settlements.
Daarik thought, if it had been him, he would not have been as generous. Of course now, he knew any idea of taking the human’s independence from them would lead nowhere. His wife would be their queen, one way or another, and he knew better than to try to wrest control away from her, even if he wanted to.
He would find himself at war again, and a battle against his wife was not one he desired.
They would have enough battles to face. While his people, for the most part, tolerated her before, a large number had been more than happy to see them part ways. It was a smart move on her part, to leave and make it look like they had split up. It would give his people time to calm down after Elrek and Baerne’s deaths, and give him time to focus on hunting Jarvik. She had thought to make his life easier, and go after what she wanted at the same time.
What she didn’t realize, and what he hadn’t seen at the time, was that she made him better. Stronger. More alive. His father had always been very concerned with the opinion of their people, and he always treaded carefully about respecting their views. The one time he had ignored their desires was when he had signed the treaty with the human king, Edwell, stating that his son would wed a human woman. Elrek had been looking to the future, while many of his people were, regrettably, still in the past.
The humans were the same in that. Honestly, if Maarlai and humans ever actually started talking, they would find that both sides hated his and Shannen’s marriage equally. The thought nearly made him laugh, and in that moment he felt as if he understood the joy Shannen had taken in rebelling against what everyone had told her to do for so long. There was a freedom, a certain joy in tossing people’s prejudices back in their faces, flaunting the very things they hated.
When he got her back, he would never again put his people’s wishes above his life with her. He was not his father, for better or for worse.
Chapter Eight
It was slow going, with so many children and injured, and so few able to both care for them and watch their surroundings for signs of danger. It had been a solid day of movement, and Shannen wanted to scream. They had barely covered any ground at all, between their slow pace and the requirement of sticking to routes that offered some cover. Of course, the route that offered more cover also meant an even slower pace, as they had to make their way through the mountains, where there were caves they could duck into if the ships showed up again. And, to add to the chaos, Edwell spent most of his time battling his guards, trying to get free, which had resulted in him being sedated again… which meant that a few of the men in her army had taken turns carrying him on the stretcher they had made.
By the time they stopped, the sun was beginning to set. Shannen stood and looked back the way they had come. Tanris still burned, great black clouds in the distance. She could still see the white walls of the city.
What was left of them, at any rate.
She tore her eyes from the city and looked around at her people. They had found a fairly flat, protected area. They were most of the way through the mountain trail now, and tomorrow they would spend a good portion of the day, unfortunately, with no cover in which to travel. There would not be any significant cover for quite a while, when they reached the outer fringes of what had been a forest near Ashwall.
They could likely stop at the fort. Renn probably did not have enough food to feed them all for very long, but if he would take some of them in, it would help her a lot. And he had a few talented healers to look at the most badly injured. She and a few others had done their best, but some of the injuries suffered by the survivors of Tanris were absolutely horrid. Even the badly-hurt had kept moving, spurred on by the same fear Shannen had: that their attackers would be coming back.
Thinking of the injuries they had sustained, she gingerly moved her shoulder. Camille’s stitches had held well, even with all of the lifting and moving around she had done since. It itched horribly though, and it took every bit if willpower not to scratch it.
“Are we risking fires this evening?” Camille asked, and Shannen shook her head.
“Have them sleep close to each other for warmth. Let them eat whatever rations they need. I cannot imagine that Renn would turn them away.”
Camille nodded and moved off to relay Shannen’s instructions.
“You’re taking me to Ashwall?” Edwell asked. He was sitting, leaning up against a boulder. His hands were still tied in front of his body, but now his ankles were shackled. He could move, but not quickly. Shannen did not miss the hope in his voice.
“Yes.”
“Very good.”
“Not so much. Kinari is loyal to me,” Shannen said.
“You may think you earned loyalty
by lying on your back all those years. I can assure you that Kinari knows who deserves his loyalty and who does not,” Edwell said smugly.
Shannen hid a smirk. “Magdalene,” she called. The woman made her way through the people sitting, or often sprawled in exhaustion, on the ground.
“Yes, my Queen?” she asked. Shannen did allow herself a small chuckle at Edwell’s look of disgust at the title.
“Who is Renn Kinari loyal to?”
“You, Your Highness. I can only say that now that you have the false king in custody.”
Shannen smiled at the way her uncle’s face reddened.
“Renn was concerned that you would punish his people if he supported me openly,” she said. “But… you are not king anymore.”
“This is temporary, whore,” Edwell hissed. “You have no right—”
“Actually, I have every right. I have the law. An Immutable. The final wish of our people’s finest king,” she finished, and Edwell went pale with rage. Shannen smiled sweetly.
In truth, she had no such high opinion of her father, but she did love seeing Edwell’s rage over the fact that he just never seemed to measure up to his older, more-respected, brother.
“Harledon is staying with Kinari,” Edwell said.
“I know. He will be staying there for quite a while.”
“What do you—”
“The Lord of Ashwall did not trust Harledon, for some reason. He is being detained.”
Edwell sputtered, and Shannen stood up and walked away. It was really rather immature how much joy she took in needling the pathetic false king. Of course, she did not exactly have a reputation for being sweet and kind, so she supposed that at least she was being consistent.
She waited for the sky to darken so she could try communicating with Daarik again. In the meantime, she walked through their sprawling camp, and spoke quietly to her people, and helped the healers change bandages, always with an eye on the sky.
The sun had just set when she heard that nightmarish buzzing overhead. A few screams went up among her people, and she shushed them.
“Huddle down. Be still,” she whispered. She did not know what kind of abilities they had. Could they see at night? Could they track their movements from all the way up there? All she knew was that staying quiet and still seemed like their best option.
It seemed as if none among them even dared to breathe. Shannen was well aware that she was holding her breath, not wanting to risk even that amount of motion.
In the next instant, the first ship had passed over them, followed by several more, traveling toward Tanris. As she and her terrified companions watched, the ships unleashed another barrage of those bright, flashing explosions on Tanris, still visible from their vantage point in the hills. The air had almost cleared of smoke from the first attack, and now the city was an inferno again.
Shannen watched the city burn again, watched those evil craft hovering in the sky above it, and she felt sick. This was unlike anything she had ever even read about. This was not war. This was an extermination. These beings, whoever they were, wanted them dead.
She hoped with every fiber of her being that Darathar had escaped this fate. It was not as large or overbearing. It was quite possible they had passed it over.
But Ashwall was fairly noticeable. Please let Ashwall still be standing, she thought fervently.
The craft disappeared, their job apparently done.
She could not even find any joy in knowing that she had been right about the decision to leave Tanris, and Edwell had been wrong. Any other day, she would have said something snide about how wrong he had been.
Ashwall. Darathar. The small towns and outlying villages she had visited on her way to Tanris. Was any of it still there, or had they all met the same fate as her home city?
And was her husband safe?
Shannen kept her eyes on the western horizon, watching the sky darken as her people started moving and talking around her again. While most of her thoughts were for Daarik and the Maarlai, she also feared for Renn and his people. And for her group of refugees as well. If Ashwall had fallen, they would have to go all the way to Darathar with her.
Assuming Darathar was still there, of course.
She fought the urge to scream, or, worse, to start crying. None of that would do anything now, other than upset those who had already been forced to live through a nightmare. She heard the sobs, the sniffles. The last thing they needed was for her to fall apart now. They deserved better than her tears.
Once the sky was fully dark, she searched the camp for Camille. Once she spotted her, she pointed toward a rocky outcropping above the camp, indicated that she was heading up there. Camille nodded, and Shannen knew her second-in-command would not be far away. She was surprised by how comforting she found that thought.
The climb to the outcropping was not too long, but it was challenging, between the dark and the loose rock beneath her feet. Once she reached a slightly flat place, out of sight of her camp, Shannen knelt on the ground and took a deep breath.
“Please,” she whispered, and then she pulled her sleeve up, exposing the metal of her mating mark to the night sky.
The response was immediate.
“Shannen,” she felt, more than heard, and then she did allow herself to weep, her husband’s voice undoing something inside her. “It’s all right,” he said, and, to her, he sounded a little emotional as well. “It’s all right, wife of mine.”
“You are alive,” she thought.
“Of course I am. Why wouldn’t I be? Where are you? You cannot go to Tanris—”
“I was already there. I was there when those things attacked—”
“They attacked already?” His response was practically a shout, and she winced. “You were there? Oh, gods above — are you all right?” His thoughts, emotions came to her, frenzied and tense, and she tried to soothe him.
“I am all right. Just exhausted. Whatever they were, they destroyed the city. Every building, just…” she trailed off, closing her eyes, trying to shake off the hellish inferno she had found herself in. “So many dead,” she added in a whisper.
“Where are you now?”
“Heading to Ashwall, if it is still there. Is Darathar all right?”
“It was when I left,” he answered grimly.
“When you left? Where are you now?”
“We just finished crossing the Waste. We were trying to catch up with you before you reached Tanris, warning you not to go to the city.”
“Did you know this would happen?” she asked in surprise.
“No. We suspected… it’s a long story. I’m just so relieved you’re all right. If I’d lost you, I don’t know how I would have gone on.”
“Same to you, husband,” she said.
“No more separate missions. No more divisions, real or pretend. I am coming to you, and we’re uniting. My father was not wrong. We all need to work together on this, and if Edwell won’t work with—”
“Edwell is not king anymore.”
There was a moment of silence. “Did he die in the attack?”
“No. He lives. I took his crown right before the attack.”
She felt a mix of pride and fear come through the connection. She knew the fear was because she had been in the midst of all of that death and destruction. The pride made her smile.
“You always believed in me.”
“Because I know you. When I see you again, after I’ve kissed you senseless and held you and worshiped every single inch of your body, I want to hear all about it. Promise?”
She laughed. “I promise.” She paused, reveling in the knowledge that he was alive. He was still alive, and that was a miracle as far as she was concerned. “I miss you.”
“I miss you, too. You said Ashwall is where you are traveling to?”
“Yes. It is the fortress of an old friend.”
“Renn Kinari,” Daarik answered, and Shannen sat up a bit straighter in surprise.
“You kn
ow of him?”
“He is here with me. Traveling with me.”
Shannen furrowed her brow. “Why?”
“He came to Darathar to tell me that I needed to stop you from getting to Tanris.”
Shannen waved it off. “He did not think I could beat Edwell. He refused to help me—”
“It’s a bit more involved than that.”
Shannen took a breath, the sense that she really probably would not want to hear this particular story hanging over her. “Tell me,” she finally said.
Daarik told her the story of Renn Kinari, alien shapeshifter, and the tale he had told about the Sarlene and their crusade against Earth. When he was finished, Shannen did not know what to say.
And then she started laughing. And once she started, she could not stop.
“Shannen? This isn’t really a laughing matter,” Daarik said, concern flowing through their connection. That only made Shannen laugh harder, and she wiped her eyes, a hiccup escaping as she tried to calm her giggles.
“You are overwrought, I think,” Daarik said, still concerned, and it got her started all over again.
“It’s…” she began, and then had to take a deep breath to stop herself from bursting into gales of laughter again. She noticed Camille peeking at her from her post nearby, and Shannen merely shook her head.
“I don’t suppose you want to let me in on the joke?”
“Did Renn tell you how he knows me?”
“Yes.”
“You are not angry.” It was not a question, but a statement when she realized there was no anger coming through their connection. A tiny bit of jealousy, maybe, but not anger.
“Your relationships before the one you have with me are irrelevant. I knew you had many lovers. The fact that this one remains so loyal to you is not exactly surprising. And he seems to know you more than just a mere bedmate. I think you really are friends.”
“We are. And I love you. Thank you for not making me have to soothe your ego right now.”
“I know you, and I know your heart. I have no worries about anyone else. My ego is perfectly healthy.” He paused. “And I love you too, wife of mine.”
Riven (Exile Book 2) Page 9
