Betrayal

by Lara Morgan

  Azoth was holding court with some of his Alhanti generals in the room that overlooked the largest training courtyard. He was shirtless and barefoot, wearing only a pair of loose trousers, and stood at his large stone table with the map of Saranthium carved in its surface, showing them how his war would go. One of the Alhanti looked more human than most, its eyes full of a feral understanding as it followed Azoth’s finger scribing an arc toward Salmut. It was the one that had been sent south with some of the army.

  Of all those Azoth turned into Alhanti, those he made generals had once been leaders as humans, even village elders. Sometimes Alterin recognised one of them and it tore at her heart to see their wisdom turned now to this end. Becoming Alhanti had stolen their souls but not their intelligence, making them the more dangerous for it. They had no mercy now, no humanity left.

  She could not bear to watch them and followed Jared as he led her to a low divan near the back wall. He stood to one side, staring impassively out at the patio as Alterin sank down on the soft cushions and waited.

  Azoth paid them no attention. He had his back to her, talking in a low, slow voice. She heard the words ‘scarp’ and ‘split’ but didn’t know what they meant. He looked pleased, though, and she could only wonder what new horror he had visited on the people of the drier lands. When he finally sent the Alhanti away they left with great strides, their hard faces blankly hostile as they glanced at her. One shot her a half smile that looked more like a snarl. Alterin could only think their families, if they were still alive, would be horrified by what they had become.

  ‘You’re wet.’ Azoth’s cool voice roused her and she realised he was standing over her. She hadn’t heard him move. He ran one forefinger through her hair, lifting a strand, inspecting it. ‘I don’t like you wet,’ he said. ‘You’re soaking my cushions.’

  She didn’t reply, and he snapped his fingers at Jared and pointed to the wooden box bound with metal that sat on a table against the wall. Alterin heard the heavy footsteps cross the floor then come back to stand next to them. The hinges of the box creaked minutely as Azoth opened it and drew out the Stone. She shivered, but not from the cold. The power of it pulsated around him, a cold, invisible fire. He kept the Stone always with him now. He had ceased leaving it in the temple, so addicted was he to its presence.

  ‘Leave us,’ he said to Jared, and the Alhanti melted away, his steps receding until the heavy wooden door shut behind him.

  ‘Now,’ Azoth said, and his free hand very lightly touched the top of her head, ‘don’t make me do this again.’

  Pain ran through her. Burning rippled through her scalp and she tried not to scream, biting her lip as a sensation like a fiercely hot wind sucked the moisture from her skin and clothes, scalding her. She couldn’t move away from his hand; he barely touched her but it was as if she were held on all sides in a case of iron. It was brief, a spasm of energy coursing from the Stone and through him into her, but it was enough to bring tears to her eyes that immediately evaporated. His touch lifted and she fell back against the cushions, as dry as bone, her dress stiff and rustling as she gasped for breath, the damp air a welcome relief.

  He still held the Stone in his hand as he crouched beside her. ‘No more rain,’ he whispered, and she could only nod, closing her eyes so she didn’t have to see him. He moved away, placing the Stone back in its box, putting it down on the table. She began to breathe more easily.

  He seemed to be waiting for her to recover. She said nothing, sitting as silent as the trees. She could sit a long time that way. It irritated him, she knew, that she could be so still. After a moment he spoke.

  ‘I know you noticed that my general has returned. Do you want to know what he saw?’

  She stared out at the rain and tried to feel the soft whispers of the jungle spirits. They called to her still sometimes, in sad, solemn voices.

  ‘The small army he took with him was mostly killed,’ he said. ‘Mostly. The slaves left some alive. They even managed to take one of the Alhanti, although they needed three to do it.’ She flinched as he moved and was suddenly closer, crouching beside her and whispering in her ear.

  ‘You are so weak, you humans. I had forgotten. It will not take much to subdue you all. So few I sent, and so hard they found it to defeat them. It will be —’ He suddenly stopped mid-sentence, tensing, all the hard muscles of his torso tight.

  ‘She’s coming,’ he whispered, staring outside.

  Apprehension filled her. Was he talking about Fortuse? But surely she would feel her as well if she was? Azoth turned on her, a furious light in his eyes, and she cringed as he grabbed the back of her neck.

  ‘Why?’ he said, vibrating with power and expectation. ‘I feel her coming. Why is she coming?’

  ‘Who?’ Alterin stared at his beautiful, terrifying face. ‘Fortuse?’

  ‘No.’ He let her go, flinging her down as he rose to his feet. ‘My beloved.’ He ran to stand at the entrance to the patio. ‘She’s coming back to me.’

  Alterin stared at him in shock. There was only one he would call that. But why would Shaan be coming back here to the place that had almost brought her death? She was too afraid to move for fear of what Azoth would do. He was hovering on the edge of violence. A terrible suspicion formed in her mind. She knew Azoth had been reaching out to Shaan’s dreams again; had he managed to influence her so much that he had turned her to him? He was so powerful now, anything was possible. But she could not tally that with the young woman she had known. Shaan was stronger than that; she had fought him all the way. She had almost died fighting him. What would make her give in now?

  Chapter 39

  It took Shaan a long time to navigate the dense undergrowth and make it to the river. The air was hot and heavy but she kept her coat on to protect her from the razor-like palm fronds and finally pushed her way out to the bank in the late afternoon. The river was narrow, the opposite bank easy to see if not reach. The water flowed swiftly, a deep brown littered with the occasional log, and wound away into the deeper jungle in the direction of the city. All she had to do was follow it and eventually she would get there — if Azoth did not send someone to find her first. He must know she was here. She could feel a quickening in her blood, an anticipation, which was not just her own anxiety. It drew her toward him with the recognition of belonging.

  She crouched on the damp ground and took a sip of water. Birds screeched, hidden in the trees, and the day darkened as a soft rain began to fall. She sighed. That was all she needed. Now there would be mud to navigate. Resigned, she put the water skin away and began to follow the narrow ledge of the river bank into the jungle. The rain became heavier and the river wider. Fat drops pelted the surface of the water and turned the bank to mud. Her coat was oiled but too large, leaving gaps where the water ran in, streaming down the back of her neck and wetting the collar of her shirt while the lower legs of her trousers became sodden, sticking to her calves. She slipped often but continued doggedly on, her head down, miserable and tired.

  The day waned, afternoon merging into evening, but still the rain fell. It was unrelenting and Shaan began to feel detached. She could see very little, the jungle a black shadow. Her feet moved, one in front of the other, and the pack bumped against the small of her back, but they felt separate from her. She stared down at the mud, the water, up at the trees in a kind of fugue. Time lost meaning; there was only the rain, the mud and the movement of her aching limbs forward, ever forward, along the river’s edge. Her left leg began to lag, her old injury resonating pain.

  It was the sound of heavy footfalls that oriented her. She had been partly aware of a faint, steady beat, like the ground breathing, and had taken little notice, but then came the snap of breaking wood. It startled her and she paused, gazing ahead into the darkness. Was that a light? She took a step but was too close to the edge of the bank. Mud crumbled beneath her heel and suddenly she was sharply alert as her right leg slid down the bank, almost taking her into the water. She fell to her k
nees, clutching at the ground, and managed to arrest her fall. Luckily the bank was not a straight drop at this point but a ridged incline and, scrabbling for purchase, she crawled back up. Crouched on all fours she took a moment to recover her breath, her heart pounding. That had been close. Her front covered in mud, she got to her feet, scraping off what she could. It was very dark now; she could barely see in front of her, and the river was nothing but a rushing sound on her right.

  The ground trembled and she heard another snap of wood, a slap of foliage against something solid, and saw the light again: a bright yellow wavering point moving toward her through the jungle. All the animal sounds had ceased.

  She stood still, barely breathing, all her senses alert. And then she felt his whisper in her mind.

  Arak-si, cara merak, Arak-si. The familiar words, the soft brush of his mind like a caress, made her gasp. She shivered but forced herself to calm down; this was why she was here.

  Azoth? she whispered in her mind. There was a pause and then a rush of laughter.

  Go to them; they will bring you to me.

  She shuddered and looked at the light moving closer. There was only one thing he would have sent. She hesitated for one last sweet moment. This was it, there was no turning back. No escape. She took a long, deep breath and, squaring her shoulders, stepped into the trees to meet them.

  There were two of them, one male and one female, both close to seven feet tall. They were the creatures of her nightmares, the same as the one Azoth had conjured into her dreams, but now they were real. Neither of them said anything as she emerged from the trees.

  ‘Have you come to take me to the city?’ she said.

  The female’s yellow eyes narrowed. ‘He will carry you,’ she replied in a voice as dry as sand. Of course, they must have run to reach her so quickly.

  ‘Get on.’ The male Alhanti turned his broad, shirtless back to her and knelt down. Long welts, strap marks now healed, marked his skin. Swallowing her revulsion and fear Shaan wrapped her arms around his thick neck, his silvered blue crest close to her face. Immediately he rose to his feet and gripped her legs, locking them together around his middle.

  ‘Hold tight,’ he grunted, and sprang forward without warning.

  He ran fast, faster than Shaan could believe was possible, speeding over the uneven ground, leaping over fallen trees and ploughing through the undergrowth. Nausea sprang up in her gut as the darkness whipped past her face, air tasting of river dampness and night streaming over her eyes into her mouth. Behind she could hear the steady breathing of the female at their heels. She had doused the lantern and they moved through the darkness of the jungle as if born for it. Foliage slapped at her legs and elbows and Shaan closed her eyes and prayed for it to be over.

  The female Alhanti called out and she opened her eyes to light, the river and the looming curve of the ancient bridge that spanned the rushing water and led to the city.

  The Alhanti put her down and she almost fell as the blood rushed back into her lower limbs. She staggered and they watched with impervious looks on their strange faces. She ignored them, hating to see the vestiges of the people they had once been. Their eyes were too elongated, their faces broader, their bones grown larger — but they were still human in some ways.

  ‘Come.’ The female gestured to the bridge but Shaan didn’t move. The feeling of Azoth was so close, a physical presence, a hand brushing her skin. Bright torches illuminated the new gate that guarded the wide main entrance. The walls were repaired and from high above came the sound of wings cutting air. A serpent swooped low over the treetops, plunging down to land somewhere in the city.

  ‘Move!’ The Alhanti shoved her in the back.

  Shaan stumbled, turned and glared at her. Her left hand twitched.

  ‘Don’t touch me again,’ she said.

  The Alhanti must have sensed something for her elongated eyes narrowed and she took a step back. ‘He waits,’ she said almost sulkily.

  ‘He can wait a while longer.’ Shaan took a step onto the stone bridge, walking up the gentle incline to its apex, where she halted to look at the city. Al Hanatoha, Alterin had called it. She remembered the last time she had stood here. The Stone had been calling to her, and she felt it now again, faintly humming. The cause of so much of her pain.

  The wide avenue was before her, lined with torches leading into the city’s heart. No going back. Without looking at the Alhanti she walked to the other side of the bridge and made for the gate.

  Inside the walls the city was greatly changed. No more did the trees seek to devour the buildings. Most traces of decay were gone; stone walls had been rebuilt and the streets cleared of rubble. The jungle had been pushed back, drawn away from the newly cut stone. Scanorians roamed the streets in packs, their dark, narrow faces glaring at her as they scattered from her path, and she saw humans, bound, towed along with them. When they saw her they were shocked and then cowed as they turned quickly away to avoid a beating from their captors. Their condition was terrible. They looked half starved, without hope, and Shaan struggled to control her anger. She could not help them here — not yet.

  She ached with exhaustion but she forced herself to stride quickly through the streets, knowing without having to be told how to get to the palace. The Alhanti kept pace, walking on either side of her — escorts or guards, she wasn’t sure. The city was more silent than it should have been with so many residing in it. It made Shaan’s uneasiness double. Her heart beat fast as they trod across the slick stones, entering the street she knew led to the temple square and, beyond, the palace.

  The large square was blazing with light and all around serpents crouched on the high platforms of stone that jutted out from many of the buildings. She felt their eyes on her as she crossed beneath them, and she tried not to look at the temple. It sat in the middle of the square, a black stone monolith like a tomb. It was in there she’d almost lost her life. In there where she’d brought back the Stone.

  Arak-si. The combined whispering of the serpents’ minds brushed hers and she flinched, crossing the open area as quickly as she could, passing the temple, heading up the winding street to the palace on the other side of the square. The gates stood open, guarded by two more Alhanti, and beyond them, rising above the rooftops of the collection of buildings, she saw a statue of Azoth, rendered in ebony-coloured stone.

  Shaan stopped just inside the gate, suddenly unable to go any further. Her limbs trembled and she felt hot then cold, so cold, as his breath brushed the back of her neck.

  He was standing behind her.

  She did not know how he had come to be there. On either side were the bulky shadows of buildings many storeys high, balconies spiralling around the walls. Had he come from there?

  ‘In such a hurry, yet now you stop,’ he said in his low, smooth voice.

  He was standing so close she knew if she leaned back just a little they would touch. She could barely speak over the frantic beating of her heart.

  ‘The Alhanti were in a hurry, not me,’ she said.

  He chuckled and stepped into her line of sight. ‘Games? Have you come to play games?’ He lowered his head at an angle, amusement and something else in his gaze. Covetous want.

  She felt as if she were drowning. His being drew her like an invisible cord, a leash. He knew she felt it. Sudden desire came into his eyes, and he stepped forward and lay a hand on her cheek, tilting her head. She flinched and energy coursed from him into her.

  ‘You have come home to me.’ He leaned down to her and his fingers crept from her cheek to the back of her neck until he was encircling it, his hand under her hair. ‘Why?’ he whispered, his fingers tightening. She was suddenly afraid she could not do what she had come to do. Afraid of the response she felt to him.

  ‘We shall see.’ His lips were on her cheek as he spoke, dry, his breath hot on her flesh. Slowly he pulled the pack from her back and tossed it to the waiting Alhanti. ‘I don’t like that coat,’ he said. ‘It smells of your brother. T
ake it off.’

  Strangely frozen, Shaan peeled off the heavy coat and handed it to the Alhanti hovering behind Azoth.

  ‘Come.’ He half smiled, his teeth white against the pale tan of his skin. ‘Walk with me, willingly this time.’ He held his hand out, watching her, waiting. He did not trust why she was here, but he did not think she could harm him.

  Shaan did not take his hand but forced her feet to move, one step then another. She walked forward and Azoth stayed at her side, his hungry gaze on her face as he took her into the hallways of his palace.

  Chapter 40

  The early morning air was warm, a faint breeze from the south promising the possibility of storms later in the day, and on the horizon Tallis saw a barely visible band of cloud as he watched the hawk wing away toward Balkis and Hunters Scarp.

  ‘It seems Nilah has managed to do what she threatened after all.’ Rorc’s expression was grim as he fingered the scrap of parchment he had retrieved from the message bird.

  ‘What’s happened?’ Tallis asked.

  ‘She thinks she can broker a peace deal with the Free Lands behind Lorgon’s back.’ He shook his head. ‘She must have been persuasive to get Morfessa and Veila to agree to it.’

  ‘Perhaps she can,’ Tallis said, but his thoughts were far from the young Guardian’s troubles.

  ‘She’s reckless and naive,’ Rorc said. ‘Amandine won’t listen to her. She’s putting herself in unnecessary danger.’

  But Tallis barely heard him. He had lost track of Shaan. He knew she was alive but that was all. He had been able to sense her as far as the Black Mountains, but then she had disappeared and a twisting fear in his gut told him it wasn’t the Four she was going to seek. What had Sabut told her to make her go? And why hadn’t he stopped her? He could have commanded Asrith not to take her, but something in her eyes, his heart, had kept him from it.