Betrayal

by Lara Morgan

  She talked then about Tallis, about Shaan, and about how the man Tallis had once called father, Haldane, had been killed by the serpents. Karnit’s hate, she said, had grown from that day onward. She told the clan of his plot to kill Tallis on the way to the Gathering and of the three men who had died. She was a tall, solidly built woman, and her face was hard as she looked at every member of the clan as she spoke.

  ‘We have nothing but Tallis’s word of what happened on that day,’ she said. ‘The men who have already gone to Kaa know the truth. The others who went with him to the Gathering profess no knowledge of what our past leader planned on that night. That time has now passed. That leader has now passed and I stand in his place.’ She turned to Tallis. ‘I cannot undo the judgment of Outcast that was made for this man. A leader is dead by his hand, as are others, but his actions were forced upon him, not chosen freely, and the Circle has decided that his position should be reconsidered. From now on, if he chooses, Tallis, son of Mailun of the Ice Lands and Rorc once of the Baal, shall be granted permission to enter this clan whenever he so wishes. He shall not be turned on, ignored or refused entry so long as this Circle holds sway. The same must apply to his sister.’ She looked at her and Shaan felt her stomach contract as many eyes followed.

  ‘Tonight we welcome Shaan to our clan. She was born here in the sands, and into our hearth, and she shall always be welcome.’

  Shaan’s heart beat a strange tattoo and when Tallis’s fingers touched hers she grasped at his hand. Miram looked back at the people. ‘I must speak also of the clansman Jared, earth brother of Tallis and the one who saved his life. I know there have been doubts cast about him, but let those doubts be lifted. If he comes back to us, he comes home.’

  There was a murmuring and shuffling in the crowd. Shaan saw Irissa and her parents. Pilar was crying, Aksel, her heart mate, holding her close, while Irissa stared across the open area of sand at Tallis, a look of sorrow and restrained emotion in her face.

  Mailun put a hand on Tallis’s arm, but he seemed oblivious to it all.

  Tallis? Shaan whispered in his mind, and he slowly looked at her, but his expression was bleak and he didn’t respond.

  ‘Come,’ Miram was saying, ‘let us send Karnit to Kaa.’

  The rest of the ceremony passed by in a blur. Shaan sat beside Tallis, barely paying attention as the clan funeral rites were done and Karnit’s pyre was lit. She knew why he was so withdrawn; he had killed a man and his clan had welcomed him back for it. He could not reconcile that to himself. Holding tight to his hand, Shaan worried more about what would become of him when she left. He seemed to be accepting his power now, but would he use it to hasten his own destruction?

  They sat for some time as Karnit’s body burned until, on some invisible signal, members of the clan started to drift away back to the Well. With the threat of sandstorms now gone, all the clan tents had been erected again outside, and Shaan and Tallis fetched their own tents and pitched them away from the others.

  Mailun built a fire and they sat around it in silence, cooking a piece of meat over the flames. Rorc returned not long after. He looked distracted, his gaze filled with some quiet urgency.

  ‘Are you hungry?’ Mailun asked as he sat.

  ‘No. I ate with the Baal.’ He looked across at Tallis.

  ‘I heard what happened at the rites,’ he said. ‘An Outcast has never been welcomed back into Clan before.’

  Tallis remained silent and Rorc said, ‘But you think you do not deserve it.’

  ‘I’m glad all doubts about Jared were buried,’ Tallis said, ‘but …’ He shrugged and the bitterness in his face was harsh. ‘Maybe it’s too late.’

  ‘Maybe,’ Rorc said, ‘but accept this gift while you can.’

  ‘You mean while we are here,’ Tallis said, and Rorc nodded.

  ‘What happened with Hashmael?’ Mailun asked.

  ‘He has been chosen to replace Karnit as the chief leader of the Clans — the leaders held their meeting after Karnit’s pyre was lit — and he has pledged that he will recommend the others accept our proposal. We will be able to bring the clan warriors against Azoth.’

  It was done. Shaan almost heard Sabut’s sigh of satisfaction. Things were falling into place, which meant that she must take up the task appointed her. Dread filled her as she realised she must leave, and where she must go.

  Tallis was looking at her. He knew. She tried to give him a smile but her lips would not form one.

  ‘This is good,’ she said. ‘It’s what we came for.’

  ‘Yes.’ Rorc nodded. ‘I will soon be able to send word to Balkis. It will take almost seven days to cross the desert to him. I only hope we reach him before Azoth makes his move.’

  Balkis. The thought of him cut her but she could not think of him. In order to save him, she must betray him. She had to betray them all. Sadness filled her but she pushed it down as her mother prepared a pot of nonyu for them to share. She must savour this moment, she decided. The memory of it would have to last her a long time.

  She waited until a few hours before dawn then she went to wake Tallis, but he was already sitting by the cold fire waiting for her. Shaan had her pack with her and he helped her find a water skin and some food from their small store. They did it all without saying a word, both of them aware of Rorc and Mailun sleeping so close by. Then they left the camp together and headed out around the edge of the Well.

  It was cold in the way only the desert at night could be, the only light the bright stars above them. The sky was clear, cloudless; a good night for flying. They walked until they were around the side of the Well so no one could see. Then Tallis stopped, his face a shadow of jaw and gleaming eye.

  ‘If you need me, I will come,’ he said.

  ‘I know.’

  Tallis looked up at the sky and she heard him calling to the serpents; the sound of the ancient words sang in her blood. Always when he used the old tongue she felt it keenly, like a fire, drawing her close. The words were in both of them, the legacy of their ancestor, but she didn’t think she’d ever be able to use them like he did. When he spoke them they seemed to come from his deepest core, innate, a part of him. Arak-si, Tallis whispered in her mind.

  Arak-ferish, Shaan answered, then smiled as tears threatened.

  Tallis stepped forward and pulled her close, holding her tight.

  ‘You’re sure you cannot tell me anything?’ he said.

  Shaan nodded her head against his chest, squeezed him back once then let him go.

  ‘Promise me you will take care, Tallis. I felt the bleakness in you. Don’t give in to it. Go to Irissa. Let her be with you.’

  He stared at her silently for a moment as the serpent came to land behind them, her ancient oily scent washing over them with the dust of the sand.

  ‘She is too angry with me,’ he said finally.

  ‘Then give her a reason not to be. And tell Balkis …’ She stopped. Tell him what? She shook her head. There was nothing that would explain things to him. ‘Just keep him alive. Promise me.’

  ‘I will do all I can.’ Tallis handed her the pack, and it was then that she hesitated.

  She wanted to tell Tallis why she was going, what she must do and that he should understand why, but Sabut had stilled her tongue. He knew Tallis would try to stop her if he discerned where she was going, so she just looked at him again. He was so much like her, though taller, his dark hair longer, plaited, the silver cuffs glinting in the moonlight.

  ‘One day this will be over,’ she said.

  ‘One day,’ he echoed, but neither of them had much hope in their voices. ‘Hunt well, sister,’ he said.

  ‘Find shade,’ Shaan finished the saying he had told her one Jalwalah warrior said to another on the eve of battle. Because that was what they were heading into now, a battle, and there was going to come a time when he would doubt she was on his side. She strode toward the serpent. She had to go now, while she was still able. Climbing up on Asrith’s back she fel
t the warm hum of the serpent enter her blood.

  Arak-si, Asrith whispered, is it time?

  Take me home, she replied, and Tallis stepped back as with a crouch and a leap the serpent sprang into the air, scattering sand in her wake. Then with a powerful flap of her wings they were off, and Tallis became a child, a speck, a dark spot against the sand as the serpent bore Shaan away.

  Chapter 36

  Balkis stood on the top of the escarpment looking at a thin plume of smoke on the northeastern horizon. Three hundred feet below, tents were spread across the rocky red ground in ordered formation. In an open area a group of Faithful Hunters were training, their movements in deadly synchronisation, and the sound of metal being struck rang in the air as the smith repaired weapons, black smoke rising from his fire.

  Hunters Scarp was a long, curving breakaway of red stone flanked on either side by smaller mesas separated by shallow gorges of rock and scrub. It had once been the site of a number of hunting lodges, built by affluent merchants, but now all that was left of those were ruins. The crumbling foundations of several buildings were scattered across the ground, and a half-demolished wall at waist height enclosed the complex. The wall was built from one edge of the curved escarpment to the other, and in the centre of it the remains of a once grand entrance were nothing but two thick pillars of stone stretching to the sky. A line of lean, twisted trees grew against the wall and throughout the complex, the remains of a fruit orchard still alive in one corner. One lone stone wall was left standing inside the grounds, probably because it had been built up against the face of the scarp. Balkis thought it might have been the back wall of a slaughter-house, but now it was just a wall that provided a good base to erect his command tent against. Attar had been manning the lookout on the top of the scarp overnight and now crunched across the rocks toward him. ‘Smoke’s been rising since daybreak,’ he said.

  Balkis squinted against the glare of early sunlight. ‘We’ll have to investigate; it looks too much like Split could be burning.’

  ‘Take half the serpents?’ Attar said.

  Balkis thought for a moment but something uneasy was sitting in his gut. ‘No, all of them,’ he said. ‘I’ve a bad feeling about this.’

  ‘You think Azoth has come early?’

  ‘What’s early?’ Balkis said. ‘But no, I’m sure we’d see serpents in the sky if it was him.’

  ‘Ground forces then,’ Attar said. ‘Send a scout?’

  ‘Too slow. We’ll go ahead with the serpents, and the Faithful and riders can follow behind.’

  ‘Right.’ Attar’s eyes were shrewd with anticipation.

  ‘Let’s go.’ Balkis led the way back to the steep path to the complex.

  Within the hour all nine serpents and their riders sat outside the complex, together with one hundred of the Faithful and riders with full quotas of weaponry.

  Striding across to the serpent he would ride, Balkis hoped their training would hold them; some of the riders were just Fledglings and had never been in a fight before. The serpent he was riding was called Shafe, a female, and she waited patiently for him.

  Will you fight with us? he mind-voiced her. Attack when I say, even if there are your own kind there?

  She looked at him from a long golden eye. We fight them for Arak-ferish, she replied, and he commands us to fight for you.

  That was as good an answer as any. Balkis climbed up onto her back and turned to Lilith, who would be leading those on foot.

  ‘Keep them moving fast,’ he said. ‘We don’t know what we’re going to find there; we might need you sooner rather than later.’

  ‘Understood.’ Lilith nodded. ‘Fly well.’

  Balkis signalled Attar and the nine serpents crouched and sprang, red dust spinning away from their feet as their wings beat at the air. Wind whipped Balkis’s hair back from his face as Shafe wheeled about and then they were off, flying hard toward the plume of smoke rising into the sky.

  It took less than half an hour for the serpents to reach the small walled town, and Balkis was appalled at what he saw. Bodies were piled on the outskirts and within the walls many of the buildings were on fire. Small dark shapes scattered away from the dead as the serpents’ shadows fell on them, running back toward the shelter of the town and calling to each other with faint guttural shouts.

  Scanorians.

  Balkis flew over the streets and saw the tall, muscular forms of two Alhanti surrounded by more Scanorians. They couldn’t wait for Lilith and the others.

  ‘Formation!’ he bellowed to the riders. Valdus, flanking him on the right, brought his serpent closer, the others following, and they formed a flying V with Balkis at the apex.

  They swooped over the streets, coming in low and fast, firing arrows toward the enemy. The serpent shrieked, swiping with her talons, but the streets were narrow and it was hard to get close enough. A short spear flicked past Balkis’s head, narrowly missing him, and he saw an arrow hit an Alhanti, embedding in its thigh, but the creature didn’t flinch. It picked up a nearby Scanorian and flung it, screaming, at Valdus’s serpent as they swept past.

  They reached the end of the town and wheeled about. ‘Split!’ Balkis shouted, and they swept forward and down again, showering the Scanorians and Alhanti with more arrows. Short spears and rough arrows spat up at them from below, some bouncing off Shafe’s tough hide, and a rider screamed behind him as one hit.

  Again and again they attacked. Sometimes they were lucky, but mostly the Scanorians hid behind whatever shelter they had not destroyed. They began to run out of arrows, but for the next half hour, the riders kept the enemy trapped in the ruined town until Balkis saw the dust pluming and the figures of running men advancing.

  Relieved, he signalled the riders and they withdrew, assembling on the other side of the bodies of the townsfolk.

  ‘Marshall! How many are there, sir?’ Lilith called as he jogged over to her.

  ‘They outnumber us at least three to one and there are two Alhanti,’ he said.

  The smell of blood and worse rose up from the piles of bodies between them and the town, and he saw the barely hidden fear and horror on the faces of some of the younger riders. Balkis could only hope their nerve would hold for the fight.

  He turned to the lead fighters. ‘The serpents will cover us as we run to the village. The enemy is mainly spread about the centre so we’ll shelter in the buildings closest to the wall. Gergen, Lilith, stay close and have the captains keep their teams ordered.’

  Grif, a Seducer of the Faithful, stepped forward. ‘As soon as we’re close enough we will try to persuade the Alhanti to surrender,’ he said, ‘but the Scanorians are harder to control; their minds are scattered, difficult.’

  Balkis nodded. ‘Do what you can.’

  For a moment he wished Tallis was there as he squinted at the town. He’d ordered the serpents to harry the enemy and they were diving and shrieking over the town, keeping them corralled, but it was hand-to-hand fighting that was going to finish this. He faced the army and raised his voice.

  ‘Draw your weapons!’

  Steel slid from scabbards and the sound of harsh breathing rang in the air. He waited. He felt no fear, only the cold hollowness of anticipation, the battle lust rising in his blood.

  ‘Follow your captains!’ he shouted. ‘None can escape!’ Balkis held his sword up, letting the sun glint off the steel. ‘Archers cover fire!’ he screamed, and began to run, the small army of riders and Faithful behind him.

  They streamed in through the wide open gate to be met by a horde of Scanorians running at them with short swords and knives. The army cut them down. Balkis swung, his blade slicing through neck and limb, blood spattering across his shirt and arms, leading the way forward through the sea of dark bodies. Gore made the street slippery, screams filled the air and his arm rose and fell, slashing at staring eyes and screaming mouths. They gained the first row of buildings, and he shouted at the captains to use the shelter of the walls, directing groups of Faithful
to go around the buildings and come out of a higher side street to strike at the Scanorians’ flank. Above, the serpents swooped down, picking at the enemy where they could.

  They gained more ground, forcing the main fight into the town square, men and Scanorians swarming across the uneven stones. The square was small and littered with bits of wood and debris from the burned houses. Balkis almost fell over the cracked lip of the town well as three Scanorians rushed him, shrieking unintelligible words. He pressed back against the crumbling stonework and lashed out with his sword, half decapitating one of them, then flung himself aside just in time as another leaped at his neck. The Scanorian fell with a scream into the well and Balkis thrust forward on instinct, impaling the third on his sword as it came at him. Then something lifted him up and flung him five paces across the stones, his sword coming free of the dead Scanorian with a squelching rip. Shoulder aching, Balkis rolled and sprang to his feet and found himself facing an Alhanti. Almost a foot taller than him, the Alhanti grinned and swung a long blade at his head. Balkis ducked just in time, hearing the sword cut the air, almost slipping in the entrails of a fallen Scanorian.

  He came up to parry another blow, the shock reverberating down his arms as their blades met. The Alhanti had an arrow sticking out of its back and another in its right shoulder, but appeared not to notice them.

  It swung again, forcing Balkis almost to his knees. Their swords were locked together and his arms began to shake as the Alhanti bore down on its sword, pressing his down, the blade coming closer and closer to his face. Balkis knew then he’d made a fatal mistake; he should never have gotten this close. It grunted, or perhaps it laughed, then suddenly moved its pressure sideways and he lost his hold on the sword, the blade flying from his grip. The Alhanti swayed back just enough to launch a blow at his neck. In desperation Balkis drew his knife and threw himself forward, under the swing of the sword. He slammed into its chest, stabbing the knife into its abdomen. It staggered, grunted, then punched him in the side of the head. The blow knocked him off his feet and he nearly passed out. His vision wavered, blood flooded his mouth and he lay dazed. With what appeared leisurely speed it lifted its sword, tip pointed at Balkis’s chest and thrust down.