Return to Shanhasson

by Joely Sue Burkhart

  Wings hammered inside her mind, the White Dragon of her dreams screaming a warning…or in longing? Lady help her, the beast crawled inside her, claws tearing her apart.

  * * *

  DHARMAN CLAMPED HIS HAND ON the nape of her neck, but it didn’t help this time. She was coated in the stench of a dragon, her skin on fire. The White Dragon swelled within her, hissing and clawing its way to freedom.

  Something lapped at her left hand, breaking the horrible spell. Using his bond to wind through her mind like a great sleek cat, Sal flattened his tongue against the small wound and rumbled his approval. His teeth dug at her skin, a small pain, and the threatening White Dragon sank back into the chilling waters of the Silver Lake rippling in her soul.

  :What was that?: She asked Dharman, hating the shivering fear she knew he must feel. :Why did a Dream try to crawl out of me?:

  His bond gleamed like a smithy, molten red fire washing through her, searching for any lingering trace of Shadow. :That oil carries the Black Dragon’s essence. You must destroy it.:

  She knew he was right, but she felt oddly reluctant. :Not until I know why it was sent to me.:

  Dharman didn’t argue, but she knew he was troubled by that oil and her strange reaction to it. Shadow would ensure she was weakened and entrapped in any way possible, yet she couldn’t bear to part with it. Sandalwood, exotic and smoky, mixed with that wild dragon musk, stirred a yearning in her that even the threat of Shadow couldn’t destroy. Perhaps deep down, she kept that vial for the memory.

  It was the last time she’d made love to Rhaekhar.

  :It’s important, but I don’t know why.:

  :Your heart never lies, na’lanna Qwen.: Although Dharman didn’t sound pleased at all by that admission. :Beware the lure. Don’t even open it without warning me and Sal first in case the White Dragon rises in you again.:

  She turned her attention to the polite young man waiting so patiently. “Your father says you were recently in Keldar.”

  “Yes, Your Majesty.” Percy held up his hand. One finger had been hacked off, the stump blackened as though rotted…or blasted by dragon fire. “I barely escaped with my life.”

  She kept her expression politely interested and made the appropriate noises of sympathy, but she knew him to be a liar. No desert savage or dragon would have stopped at removing a finger if they’d truly wanted him dead. She flashed back to the vision, the man stealing something off the carcass. Perhaps that foul ring had been forcibly retrieved from the thief who’d dared to take it. By who?

  Lady above, Stephan wore a ring like that.

  Percy leaned forward, still a safe distance away, but her muscles tensed. His pale blue eyes flashed like drawn steel. Very much like Stephan’s eyes.

  They shared a very similar ghastly glow that had nothing to do with light and everything to do with Shadow. He’d leaned across the table very much the same way, that same dreadful look of hunger in his eyes. Stephan had worn a small ring on his hand so evil it had throbbed and crouched like a venomous spider on his hand. But was it the same hand? The same finger, where Percy’s blackened stump was?

  Heart pounding frantically, she let her hand settle on the hilt of her rahke.

  :If he so much as twitches, his head falls into your lap,: Dharman swore.

  She let shaky laughter travel through their bond. :On the floor is fine. It’s easier to clean than my leathers.:

  Stephan was dead. She’d seen his body hanging in the gate at High Bridge. Even if this man was trying to masquerade as the dead Duke of Pella, his face was entirely too young and fresh. However, the suspicion lingered. This man could easily pass as a younger brother or cousin of Stephan.

  The young man swallowed nervously. “Your Majesty, is something wrong?”

  “I must admit, you seem rather familiar to me. Have we met before?”

  “Not to my knowledge, Your Majesty. Although perhaps you met my brother, Alastair? I know he spent some time in Shanhasson before he…he…”

  Color drained from the young man’s face and he suddenly looked gaunt and worn. Now that face she could definitely see on Stephan. She loosened the rahke, drawing it slightly.

  “Forgive my son, Your Majesty.” Benton sniffed and wiped his eyes with a handkerchief. “Your predecessor took Alastair from our family home as a sort of…hostage. He didn’t survive Theo’s reign.”

  “I’m sorry for your loss. Unfortunately, many people lost their lives during Theo’s reign.” Relaxing, she let the rahke slip back fully into its sheath. Theo’s enemies made for likely allies. Although this man was Shadowed, she could possibly make use of him. “What news can you tell me of Keldar?”

  “There was a gathering of tribes.” He lowered his voice, flickering his gaze at his father and at the Blood at her back. “To the south and west of Nurzhan, the ruins of the great watchtower of Far Illione. They say when Agni, the Red Dragon, He Who Burns, returns, the ground will split open so deeply that you can see the heartfires of the earth, and a river as red as blood will pour across the sands. He’ll crawl out of the crack and burn everything in His path, destroying Keldar. Destroying the world. The only thing that can stop Him… The savages believe…”

  He gulped and looked to his father again. Benton nodded encouragingly. “It’s all right, son. She needs to know.”

  “The ground has cracked,” Percy whispered breathily. “Even though the fire doesn’t burn yet, they throw sacrifices into the smoking crack. The women they steal. They toss them to the Dragon and hope it keeps Him from burning them all.”

  Shannari dropped back against Dharman’s chest, her mind racing. She’d always wondered what happened to the women who were stolen from the caravans, and although she feared something brutal like this, she’d not had confirmation.

  “They meet, make their sacrifices, and their best warriors fight in hand-to-hand combat. The winner calls himself azi, the king of Keldar. Yet this time…” Percy whispered so softly she had to lean closer to hear. Dharman leaned with her, completely shielding her body. “This time, they decided not to fight.”

  “Why?”

  “They want to stop the bloodshed.”

  It took all her political training not to snort out loud with amusement. She didn’t know much about the Keldari, but certainly the desert savages never tired of warfare.

  “They want to make a truce, both among themselves and with us. The tals, the chieftains, want to meet with you, Your Majesty, and come to an agreement to stop their raids.”

  If they sacrificed women to this dragon, and suddenly wanted to propose a treaty, with her…

  “What an interesting idea.” She ignored Dharman’s breath hissing against her ear. “What boon would they ask of me?”

  Percy spread his hands and shrugged. “I don’t know exactly, Your Majesty, although I suspect they might want to claim more of Far Illione. The exact border has always been in dispute.”

  She nodded thoughtfully. Now, he was most certainly lying through his teeth. The borders of Far Illione certainly weren’t disputed, although she did lose more of that country each year to the blowing, spreading sands of the desert beyond. “Do you know where these tals are now?”

  “When I left Far Illione, the Keldari tribes were gathering across the border in the ruins. We suspected a coming raid, which is why I fled here to join my family. I had to get my mother to safety.”

  Shannari sighed heavily and let her shoulders droop. “I wish I knew Keldari. I’d travel to Far Illione myself and meet with them.”

  Dharman made a choked sound as though he’d swallowed his own tongue. Almost, she cracked a smile, barely biting back her amusement.

  “I could act as your go-between.” Percy volunteered much too eagerly. His father inhaled sharply and took a step forward, but Percy shook off his restraining hand. “I’ve had past dealings with one tal in particular. I know he’d listen to any message you sent through me, Your Majesty.”

  She smiled and the young man beamed back. “P
ercy, I think that’s a wonderful idea. Give me a few minutes and I’ll prepare the message. I want you to deliver it directly into your tal’s hand and no other.”

  “Thank you, Your Majesty, thank you! You can count on me.”

  Without her request, Jorah brought fresh ink and parchment. Scribbling out a quick royal invitation to the mighty tribes of Keldar, she knew the only men she could truly count on were these nine warriors guarding her with their lives. Even Rhaekhar and Gregar, both, had failed her.

  She signed the letter Shannari dal’Dainari, Rose of Shanhasson. A tear dripped onto the page, smearing the ink. Somehow, she doubted the tal would mind.

  * * *

  SHE MADE A LOW, TROUBLED sound in her sleep and tossed her arm over her head, nearly smacking Dharman in the nose. Her sleep had been more restless lately, so he and Sal had both learned to let her shift and toss between them, else she’d wake up in full fight mode.

  He signaled Jorah and Lew closer to the bed and closed his eyes, letting his mind sink into the Blood bond more fully. If he was especially quiet and careful, he could guard even her Dreams. As soon as she sensed someone watching, she normally jerked awake. Whether she feared the dragon’s return or something else, he couldn’t say.

  In the real world, she wore a floor-length, long-sleeved, high-necked white cotton gown, stiff and formal, as though she feared ever letting her bare skin touch his or Sal’s. Here in her Dream, the same material gleamed with her inner light, flowing softly about her body as though alive. Her black hair hung heavy and loose down her back like she never wore it now.

  She climbed treacherous sheets of obsidian as easily as taking a walk across the Plains. Jagged glass softened before it cut her bare feet. Up, she led him, to the crack of a green valley in the highest summit. Slipping closer, he found her sitting on the ground, dejected. Cold stone barred the way, as though her Shanhasson Palace had sprouted as a barrier to the Tenth Camp.

  Once snow had drifted high against this stone. Now grass covered the ground, sprinkled with flowers, giving him hope that the Winter of her heart might soon end, yet the cold stone barrier remained.

  Light shifted, dimming, until night fell. She hung her head against the stone and groaned, a long, low cry of such pain and desperate need that he couldn’t help but come nearer.

  “I need you,” she whispered.

  He froze. Did she know he was here? Or did she speak to someone else? After the debacle when she’d asked him to touch her…

  “Don’t make me beg.”

  He dared to trail his fingers down her spine. Shivering, she arched her back, shifting her body toward him in mute entreaty. He closed his palms on her hips.

  “Yes,” she ground out, pushing her hips back into his groin.

  Flattening her beneath him against the stone, he gave her his weight. “You know I’ll give you whatever you desire.”

  “Good,” she panted. “Take me hard. Remind me that I’m still alive.”

  He knew she’d made love to the Shadowed Blood in Dreams. She’d awoken with blood in her hair, his roasted caffe scent on her skin.

  But Dharman didn’t want their first time to be in a Dream. He wanted her eyes wide open, staring into his, her mind and heart open and willing. Not with her face hidden against stone, her heart hidden in a Dream. If she couldn’t bear to look him in the eye while waking, he couldn’t make love to her now, no matter how much he longed for her.

  He wasn’t even sure she knew it was him and not another. Vulkar help me if she thinks I'm the Black Dragon.

  “Hurt me,” she whispered, her voice aching. “Hurt me as I’ve been hurt. As I hurt you.”

  He ran his hands down her arms, pinning her against the stone. She shifted her legs apart, grinding her hips against his erection. Vulkar help him, he wanted her so badly. “Who am I?”

  A flash of light blinded him. She twisted and curled in his hands, flesh melting into glossy hard scales. The White Dragon turned, tail lashing, her jaws gaping wide to threaten him with teeth as long as his rahke.

  He opened his mouth, but a whinny tore out of his throat. He jerked his gaze down to his body. Coat as blood-red as Sal’s hair, he wore the shape of a na’kindre, a very small na’kindre compared to the beast towering over him. A look flickered in her slitted eyes that tightened his stomach with dread, yet he didn’t turn away. He’d never turn away from her.

  She snapped those mighty jaws shut on his spine and he screamed, broken, unable to fight or flee.

  :Is this what you want?: She roared in his mind, shaking him side to side, tearing through his hide and breaking his bones. :Is this what you drive me to do?:

  :All I want you to do is love me.:

  With a howl, she tossed him into darkness.

  “Impressive,” a male said. “Does she know you walk in her Dreams?”

  Trembling, Dharman pushed himself up. His human body had returned and he didn’t feel pain any longer, but her Dream had shaken him more than he cared to admit, especially to a stranger. Tensing, he dropped his hand to his rahke and cast out his senses, searching for the source of the threat. “Who are you?”

  A man stepped out of the darkness. Although he was swathed head to toe in black cloth, he didn’t radiate evil. The man’s skin was leathery and dark, as though burned and peeled and burned again in impossible heat. Strange markings dotted his cheeks beneath each eye. The man’s pale eyes seemed horribly out of place. A man of such dark coloring would surely have dark eyes.

  “I’m here because she Called me, though she knows not what she does.”

  The man smiled, and Dharman tightened his fingers on his rahke. His skin prickled, his heart pounding like stampeding na’kindren, even though the man was trying very hard not to appear dangerous. It was the very lack of threat that alarmed him. This wasn’t Gregar or Rhaekhar, and the only other man who’d appeared in her Dreams was Shadow wrapped in dragon hide.

  “Would you deny her?”

  “I would give her anything,” Dharman replied stiffly. “My blood is hers.”

  “Would you give her your life?”

  “Aye,” he retorted, unsheathing his rahke. “Would you?”

  The man chuckled, pacing a slow circle about him. “We shall see very soon, very soon indeed. She aches so very badly to lie in her horse king’s and shadow killer’s arms once more. Do you understand why she’s barred from entering that sacred place where they wait?”

  “How do you know them?” Dharman shifted his weight on the balls of his feet to better attack. “How could you know her?”

  “I always know her, and she always knows me.” The man shrugged, unconcerned. A long slivered moon of a blade hung on his hip, but he made no move to touch it. “Yet this, I do not understand. If she wants to enter so badly, why doesn’t she? It’s her Dream. She can do anything she wants, even Call me forth from those burning sands.”

  Despite his concern, Dharman considered the man’s words. The same thing troubled him. Kae’Shaman had told her the twins and her mates would wait for her in the Tenth Camp, yet she hadn’t been able to visit them.

  She didn’t cry as much. She’d managed a smile or two for Sal, and she’d even let Dharman touch her the one time. She slept with them every night and wrestled her dreams, fighting and mumbling, only to wake weary.

  When the truth dawned on him, the breath exploded out of his lungs. His knees sagged until he fell, barely catching himself before he planted his face on the stone. “She refuses her heart. She refuses to love. She refuses…me.”

  “Iyeh.” The man’s voice echoed with compassion and he slapped Dharman on the back. He couldn’t even gather enough strength to stab the bastard in his black heart. “She can’t shine with love. She can’t be brightheart. She can only be darkness and shadow, and that, my young friend, is my domain.”

  “Keep your filthy hands off her.”

  The man laughed, and his genteel, amused tone grated steel claws down Dharman’s spine. “Oh, this is priceless. I’v
e never had her before you, but this time, my young friend, I may very well take her before she’s ever even yours.”

  He leaned down and lightly touched the old scar on Dharman’s chest directly over his heart. The day she’d brought down the Shining Walls with his blood seemed like an eternity, a lifetime ago.

  “This time, my teeth will brand her flesh before yours.”

  With a roar, Dharman surged to his feet and thrust the rahke as hard as he could. His blade sank to the hilt, grinding on the man’s ribs.

  Laughing, he grabbed Dharman’s shoulder and pulled his body harder onto the blade, writhing on steel with a low sound of pleasure.

  Appalled, Dharman jerked back, his hand burning with the man’s blood.

  “It will feel ever so much better when she does it.” The man melted away, but his voice lingered. “Your blood may be hers, but soon, her blood will be mine, all mine.”

  Dharman flung himself out of the Dream so hard he slid off the edge of the bed and slammed his skull onto the stone floor.

  Sal yelled, “ALARM!”

  Steel pricked Dharman’s flesh in at least five key spots, along with hard knees to pin him to the floor. Panting, he didn’t move. “Is she awake?”

  “Yes, I am,” she answered, her voice muffled. “Get off me, Sal. I want to see what’s wrong. Dharman? Are you all right?”

  Her voice rose with concern, which shouldn’t have made him feel so good. The knees and rahkes left him, but even with his eyes closed, he knew the other Blood hovered close, ready to eliminate him if he proved Shadowed in any way. He’d taught them well. “I’m well, na’lanna Qwen. Give me a moment to catch my breath.”

  “Let me up.” Sal must have complied, for her palm settled on Dharman’s cheek. “What happened?”

  “I have a confession to make.” He opened his eyes but didn’t try to get up yet. Once she found out he’d been spying on her, she might put him back on the floor. “I’ve been guarding your Dreams.”

  She didn’t say anything, but he could see the thoughts whirling in her mind. He knew the moment she made the connection, remembering what she’d done just a few moments ago. Her cheeks flushed and then drained of all color. “I ate you.”