“Duncan?”
“I cannot fault you for what you have done. You determined what it was that needed doing, and you did it.” He shrugged crookedly. “As any warrior does.”
Alix stared at the ground, dreading his wrath. Duncan’s was ever worse than anyone’s.
“I understand what it is to care deeply for someone, so deeply you must do what you can, regardless of outcome,” he said quietly. “You know I would sacrifice myself for you, or Finn, or any other warrior of my clan.”
After a moment she dared to look up at him. Nervously she wet her lips. “If you mean to be angry, Duncan, do it. I cannot wait for it all night.”
His face, still in shadow, showed her nothing. But his voice was surprised. “I am not angry with you. What you did was not wrong—only inconsiderate.”
She stiffened. “Inconsiderate!”
Duncan sighed and stepped forward, into a shaft of moonlight threading its way through the trees. She saw his smile and warm eyes as his hands settled possessively on her shoulders.
“Do you forget the child? Do you forget the magic in your soul?”
“Duncan—”
“I will not risk losing you because of bearing the child too soon. Such things can take a woman’s life. But neither will I risk the child, who deserves to live as a warrior. Alix, you have taken lir-shape while carrying an unborn child. Had you not thought what that might mean?”
Instinctively a hand slipped to her stomach. Suddenly she was very frightened.
“Duncan—it will not harm the child? It will not take him from me?”
He traced the worried creases from her brow. “I think it will not harm the child, cheysula, but it cannot do it much good. Would you have a poor unformed soul shifting shape before it even knows its own?”
Her fingers tightened spasmodically against her stomach. “Duncan!”
He sighed and pulled her to her feet, wrapping hard arms around her shoulders. She turned her face against him.
“I have not said this to worry you, Alix. Only to make you think.”
She clung to him. “I have thought, Duncan…and I am afraid!”
“The child is Cheysuli, small one, and bears the Old Blood. I think it will be well enough.”
She drew back. “But what if I have harmed it? What if it is not whole?”
Duncan muttered something under his breath and pulled her against his chest roughly. “I am sorry I said anything. I should not have put this in your mind.”
“You are right to,” she said clearly, trying to see his face in the shadows. “I have been foolish…as you said.”
“Would you say that to Carillon, whom you have freed from captivity?”
“You freed him.”
“But had you not defied me to begin with, I would not have gone to the Atvian encampment at all. It was Mujhara I was bound for.”
Alix sighed, trying to deal with two fears. “Do you send me back, then? Do you forbid me to go with you to the city, and make me wait at the Keep?”
He laughed softly. “Why can you not be as other women? Why must you put on men’s garb—my own, I have seen—and act the part of a warrior?”
She scowled. “How can I say? I am myself.”
He nodded. “I have seen that. It is not entirely unpleasing, in its place. As for Mujhara, you will have to come with us. I will not have you take lir-shape again, and I will not have you return to the Keep alone. I can spare no men to take you.” He shrugged, sighing. “So you will come.”
Alix said nothing for a long moment. Then she clenched her hands against his ribs. “I cannot say if I am pleased or not. I would not be happy at the Keep, waiting in fear, but neither will I be happy to see you risk yourself for Shaine’s city.”
He smoothed back her hair. “It is not Shaine’s city, small one. Once it was Cheysuli. We have only to win back what was ours.”
She turned her face up to his. “Duncan—had the Cheysuli not given up the throne to Homanans—could you have been Mujhar?”
He smiled. “I am clan-leader, cheysula. It is enough.”
Something turned in her heart. “But you have lost so much…”
His eyes were very clear in the moonlight as he looked into her face. “I have lost something, perhaps, but I have found even more.”
“Duncan—”
“Hush, cheysula. It is time you let our child rest.”
She sighed and felt her left hand clasped firmly in his as he led her back to the tiny camp.
I am not the proper sort of woman for this man…she thought in aching regret.
Cai, hidden in the darkness, sent her his warm reassurance. Liren…you are the only woman for this man.
Alix drew closer to Duncan and hoped the hawk was right.
BOOK IV
“The Warrior”
Chapter One
“I will not subject myself to Cheysuli sorcery,” Carillon said firmly in the morning.
He sat upright against his log, hands folded over the scabbarded sword Finn had returned to him. The Cheysuli warriors faced him silently, yet disapproving even in their silence.
Alix saw defiant determination in the prince’s battered face. “Carillon,” she reproved softly.
His eyes flickered as he looked at her, standing at Duncan’s side. “Alix, such sorcery is evil. I cannot deny your own measure of it, but I know you. You would never seek to bring down Homana’s heir.”
“Nor would we,” Duncan said flatly. He sighed. “You would not believe it, perhaps, but the Cheysuli never meant to give up their proper place next to the Homanan Mujhars. Until Hale left, Cheysuli warriors ever served Homanan kings. We seek no quarrel with you.”
Finn stood apart from the others, smiling crookedly in his familiar mocking manner. “You seek the quarrel, I think.”
Carillon’s mouth tightened. “I seek only to get to Mujhara and free my city from the Ihlini demons. And Bellam of Solinde.” His fingers were bone-white as he clenched them on the sword.
“You will not get there without our aid,” Finn said curtly. “Yet last night you were willing enough to let us use our gifts on the enemy.”
“Using your magic to release your liege lord is one thing,” Carillon retorted. “Subverting my will with it is entirely another.”
Finn laughed scornfully. “See how quickly he calls himself our lord! Only months ago you lay in our hands, princeling, and did our bidding. Could we not have forced sorcery on you then if we wished it? Or is it that you lift yourself higher, now, because Fergus of Homana is slain?”
“Rujho,” Duncan said quietly.
Carillon’s eyes were hard as stone as he shook his head. “Let him speak. I have learned much of men because of this war, and I find there are times a man must consider himself first. Long have I allowed the Mujhar to manipulate me, but no longer. My father is slain by Atvian hands and it is my place to do what he would.” Carillon smiled slowly, without humor. “You may not like it, shapechanger, but I will be lord of Homana one day. You had better accustom yourself to it.”
Color surged into Finn’s face as he stiffened. The yellow blaze in his eyes gave away the depths of the rage he felt, and Alix grinned delightedly. She caught his eyes on her and did not hide her reaction, which only angered him further. Finn turned and walked away from the clustered warriors.
Duncan, legs spread and arms folded, smiled ironically down on Carillon. “My lord prince, you may well be our liege lord. But it remains: you cannot ride into Mujhara in this fashion. You would not last the journey.”
Carillon placed one hand flat against the ground and pushed himself upright, tensing his body with the effort it took. Alix stifled the movement she longed to make to help him, knowing to do so would diminish the impact of his rising. He stood taller than most of them, though the Cheysuli were a tall race, and his broad shoulders stretched against the leather-and-mail he wore. Only his eyes gave away the immensity of effort it took for him to remain standing erectly before them.
“Carillon,” she said softly, “it will not hurt. It will only strengthen you.”
His eyes burned into hers as he stretched out his left hand. The stiff sleeve of his fighting leathers and mail drew back on his arm, baring the ridged purple weals still weeping fluid from the shackle-wounds.
“I care little if it hurts, Alix. Have I not learned to deal with pain?”
Duncan’s hand pressed against her shoulder as if bidding her into silence. Alix longed to answer Carillon’s bitterness but refrained. As she listened to Duncan she realized nothing she said could change Carillon’s mind. But Duncan’s words might.
“Homana lies in her death struggle,” he said clearly. “I believe you realize that. It is a harsh thing to comprehend, when you are prince of a land and must someday ascend the throne, but it is something you must deal with. The Cheysuli denied the truth of the prophecy once, Carillon, and suffered because of it. If you deny it, you also will suffer.”
“I am not Cheysuli,” Carillon said sharply. “A shapechanger prophecy cannot foretell what will become of a Homanan. I have no place in it.”
“You cannot know,” Duncan said softly. “Nor can any man. You must allow things their own path if you are to survive. This prophecy has foretold what will become of you, my lord, even though you be Homanan. I believe you are the Mujhar it speaks of—the one who will end the qu’mahlin and restore our race to peace. And our homeland.” Duncan sighed as Carillon’s face expressed patent disbelief. “We cannot turn the flow of the prophecy. But we can withstand the dark arts of Ihlini interference.”
“You cannot tell me what has happened was meant!” the prince snapped. “My father’s death?”
“A man must die before his son is fully a man,” Duncan said gently. “And the throne of Homana must once again fall into Cheysuli hands.”
Alix saw bitterness and resentment wash color from Carillon’s face. “Cheysuli hands?” he asked ominously. “You say Homana’s throne will be in shapechanger hands?”
She stepped from Duncan and stood between them, fearing little would be settled over such an emotional score. Gently she touched Carillon’s hand as it clung to the sword.
“I have learned once this land was Cheysuli,” she said softly, “before ever the Homanans came. It was the Cheysuli who gave the throne to your ancestors. Duncan does not mean he will deny your right to it. It is only that you must have it before it goes again to a Cheysuli Mujhar.” Alix took a careful breath. “Carillon, can we not be one race instead of two?”
“You will rule in Mujhara, my lord,” Duncan said calmly, “but only if we get you there.”
Carillon said nothing. It was Alix who smiled into his face and insisted gently. “I will not let them harm you. I promise.”
His free hand slid up to her face and cupped it gently. “Then I leave my fate in your hands.”
“No,” she said softly. “Your fate is your own. Tahlmorra.”
The Cheysuli went into Mujhara under cover of darkness. Carillon, having submitted to the summoning of earth magic that renewed his strength and sent vigor sweeping through his bones, rode the Atvian mount stolen for him. Alix sat behind Duncan once more and stared in dismay at the city.
It lay in shambles. The glittering magnificence had shattered beneath the continued onslaught of Ihlini sorcery. Walls lay tumbled, oddly charred as if unholy fire had leached life from stone blocks once raised by Cheysuli hands so many centuries before. Many of the dwellings had been destroyed completely; others showed no signs of life within. Crumbling casements stared blindly at the streets as if the eyes had been plucked from them by unseen hands.
Alix shivered and held more tightly to Duncan. Here and there someone moved out of the shadows to avoid them, as if they feared Ihlini retribution, and Alix longed to tell them differently. But she could not find her voice.
Mujhara…she mourned within her heart.
She looked at Carillon and saw him sitting erect in the saddle, Cheysuli sword fastened to his leather belt. His face, as he looked on the city, was perfectly blank. His eyes were not.
Duncan halted his horse and waited until the warriors gathered around him in a narrow alley. Their silence was eloquent.
“We are too late to keep the city from the Ihlini,” he said. “It is Homana-Mujhar we must look to. If the palace falls, so falls the realm.”
Carillon shifted in his saddle. “The palace has stood against strong foes for centuries, shapechanger. It will not fall to dark sorcery.”
Duncan slowly lifted his hand and indicated the charred, still-smoking ruins of a tall dwelling near them. “There is the smell of death in the air, my lord. Does it matter so much if it is achieved at the hands of sorcerers, or mere men?”
Carillon scowled. “What do you say?”
“That if you continue to believe in the infallibility of Shaine and the palace in which he hides himself, you are foolish indeed.” He smiled bitterly. “Carillon, once my own race was arrogant enough to believe we would ever hold the regard of Homanans. See how that faith has turned to folly? Tynstar is powerful indeed. If Homana-Mujhar can be taken—and any castle can be—the Ihlini will do it.”
The prince’s blue eyes were bleak. “I do not deny the demon his arts, nor his strength. I have only to see what he has done already. But it is a hard thing to realize the strength of a land resides in a single Mujhar.” His mouth thinned. “I am not so much like my uncle, I think. But I will do what I can to keep this land free of Bellam’s grasp.”
Finn’s dun-colored horse stomped against the ash-covered cobbles, raising fine gray dust. The warrior astride the animal set his hand to the hilt of his knife.
“We accomplish little here, rujho. Let us go on to Homana-Mujhar.”
Alix felt Duncan’s subtle sigh. Then he straightened and nodded. “What we do now may well settle the future of the Cheysuli.” He stared levelly at Carillon. “Can you truly cling to the belief that we mean the Mujhar’s blood only ill, my lord?”
Carillon slid the sword free of its sheath. The moonlight and dying flames from the burning buildings glinted off the blade and set the ruby to glowing like a crimson eye.
“I have said you will know what I believe when I am Mujhar, shapechanger. Shaine still lives.” His grim face softened slightly. “But your aid is welcome this night.”
Finn laughed curtly. “That is something, I suppose, from you. Well, princeling, shall you show us how a fine Homanan lord fights to save his land?”
“I will fight how I can, shapechanger. As you will see.”
Duncan gathered the reins of his mount. “We go separately,” he said quietly. “Cheysuli-fashion, when the odds are so high. When we have reached Homana-Mujhar, we will see to the Mujhar’s welfare.”
Alix watched as the warriors melted into the darkness. After a moment only she and Duncan remained with Carillon.
Finn kneed his horse out of the shadows. “Duncan, I hope this is what you have wanted so long,” he said.
Alix frowned at him. “What do you say?”
Finn stared at his brother. “He has ever warned the clan against unrestrained retribution for the qu’mahlin. It has ever been Duncan, swaying the Council, who kept us in the forests of Ellas, when we would strike against Shaine’s patrols and any other serving the Mujhar.” Something glinted wickedly in his eyes. “You do not know, meijha, what it is to fight a Cheysuli in all extremity. We might have slain many more who sought to slay us, had Duncan allowed it.”
“The prophecy does not speak of utter annihilation, Finn,” Duncan retorted. “It speaks of a final peace between warring lands and races. Should it not begin with our own realm?”
“Shaine would sooner see us dead.”
“Shaine will see us, rujho, but we will not be dead.” Duncan kneed his horse forward. “Do you come with us?”
“No.” Finn gathered his reins. “
I fight alone, Duncan, as ever.” His eyes flickered over Alix. “You are a foolish woman, meijha. You should be at the Keep, with the others who wait.”
“I could not bear it,” she said quietly.
Finn stared harshly at her a moment longer, then wheeled his horse and rode into the shadows. A silver wolf loped silently at his side.
Alix wrapped her arms around Duncan and pressed herself against his back as they rode through the streets. “Duncan, I am afraid.”
“There is no dishonor in fear. It is only when you fail to do what you must that the dishonor comes.”
She sighed and put her forehead against his shoulder. “Do not speak to me as a clan-leader, Duncan. I am in no mood to listen.”
Carillon, riding abreast, grinned at her. “Have you ever been in the mood to listen? No. Else you would not be here, and afraid.”
She shot him a dark glance and refrained from saying anything for fear it would not be seemly.
They rode through streets unfamiliar to her, and even Duncan at last gave way to Carillon, who knew the city better than any. The people who passed them went cloaked and hooded, saying nothing. Carillon rode silently but Alix saw the tension in his body and realized what the knowledge of what had happened did to him.
Duncan pulled his horse to a halt at a large recessed stable opening of a deserted dwelling. Alix waited, uncomprehending, as he slipped from the saddle and turned to help her down. When she stood on the cobbles she stared into his face and opened her mouth to speak.
Duncan put gentle fingers across her lips. “I would have you remain here, cheysula; out of harm’s way. That you have come so far with me is risk enough. I will not have you come farther into the enemy’s trap.”
She pried his fingers away. “Do you leave me here?”
“Aye. The street is empty, the buildings deserted. I think you will be safe here, if you do as I say.”
Alix glanced briefly past him and saw Carillon’s silhouette against the shine of moonlight. He had halted his horse near the end of the street, giving them privacy.
The Shapechangers Page 23
