The Surah Stormsong Trilogy

by H. D. Gordon

  Samson sat in the courtyard, cloaked in shadows near a garden of blue and black flowers, blending into them as he lay on his stomach and watched the chaos. His massive shoulders were tensed and his long tail still. If anyone had been paying much attention, they may have seen his large amber cat eyes staring out between the blue and black petals, but everyone was too panicked for that. It was making their scents stronger, their fear of the situation seeping out through their pores.

  And it was making him hungry, awakening the natural hunter in him. It had been an entire day since Surah had disappeared, assumedly with Charlie Redmine, and now the Magic was gone. He trusted she could look after herself, but with the way things were unravelling, he was beginning to grow more and more worried. Trouble was brewing, big trouble, and his gut told him it was getting ready to explode.

  His nose twitched when he caught a familiar scent, his eyes flicking to the rear of the courtyard. There he caught sight of Gregory Brightstar, and his stomach gave a low rumble. He watched as the man stalked across the lawn with his ever-present entourage of younger women trailing behind. Samson’s eyes narrowed and he felt his lips pull up off his teeth, but he kept silent. He had never liked Gregory Brightstar. The man just didn’t smell right.

  But he was Surah’s uncle on her mother’s side, so he’d always tolerated him. Samson’s ears swiveled in the other direction when he caught another familiar scent. Theodine Gray was striding purposefully across the courtyard as well, his dark cloak rippling around him and a hard look in his gray eyes. Samson watched as Theo and Gregory approached each other and shook hands. His ears perked as he picked up their exchange.

  “Hunter Gray,” Gregory said. “I trust you have some explanation for all of this.”

  “I wish I did, my Lord,” Theo returned. His voice lowered, and Samson crept forward a bit on his belly, his ears swiveling from side to side. “I have some things to discuss with you, however, as the king is incapacitated and the princess is missing.”

  Gregory gasped loudly. He glanced around and lowered his voice further still. “Surah is missing? How can that be? And what is wrong with Syrian? I wasn’t even aware he was ill.”

  “There is much you are unaware of, but as a High Councilman I will need your voice and influence for what’s ahead, so I thought it time to fill you in.”

  Gregory nodded at this, and the two men headed toward a small door hidden behind trees and covered in green vines. Not many knew of it, as it was used for private meetings, but Samson had grown up in the castle and he knew its grounds well. He slunk out of the garden and clung to the shadows cast by the high stone walls around him, moving silently on his soft paws, head held low. Each person he passed was so wound up he could practically see the panic in the air. But there was something else besides panic. There was an underlying thrum of hostility that was making it just a tad harder for him to suppress urges he’d been suppressing for ages.

  He wondered how long it would be before the people stopped being able to suppress their urges. As Surah had said, he was a surprisingly bright cat. He could practically smell what was coming if things didn’t get back under control, and quickly.

  He caught the door Theo and Gregory went through just as it was closing, and leaned against the wall of the passageway while his eyes adjusted to the darkness inside. He could still hear Theo and Gregory ahead of him, so he hung back a while and then began to stalk forward slowly behind them, head held low, tail flicking from side to side—a fearsome beast with bright amber eyes.

  A bit of fear spiraled in his own stomach despite this, because if living with Surah for so long had taught him anything, it was that there was one thing more dangerous than the claws and fangs and brute strength of all the Beasts combined.

  That was the plotting of selfish, greedy, and ambitious men.

  And he was pretty sure Theodine Gray and Gregory Brightstar were just such creatures.

  CHAPTER 13

  SURAH

  Surah wouldn’t admit it, but she was tired and hot and the weapons on her back seemed to be growing heavier by the hour. She hadn’t realized how much she’d used teleportation and Magic to get her from place to place, and though she was in excellent shape, long hikes across open land were not something she was used to.

  She looked over at Charlie, pulling the hood of her cloak down a little to shield her eyes from the sun. He had hardly broken a sweat. For all her training, his life of little Magic had better prepared him for something like this. It was humbling for her to admit it, at least to herself.

  “I can carry some of that arsenal you got under your cloak if you like,” Charlie offered.

  Surah shook her head. She didn’t like to think of herself as someone who needed help with such things. Then again, another few hours of this hilly terrain, and she might start to rethink that very seriously. She spotted a road up ahead, cutting through a green valley. It seemed to run on pretty level land. She pointed down at it and looked to Charlie. “What road is that? It’s not one I think I’ve travelled before.”

  He brought his hand up and shielded his eyes, focusing on the valley below them. He laughed, obviously recognizing the road.

  She put a hand on her hip. “What’s so funny?”

  “You haven’t travelled that road because that’s Common Man’s Pass. It runs parallel to the Highborn Highway most of the way to the city, but only… certain types of folks use it.”

  “And what ‘types of folks’ would that be, Mr. Redmine?”

  “The type you don’t want nothin’ to do with, Princess.”

  Surah looked all around her, seeing nothing but hills and more hills. More brush to cut through and more rocks to slip on. She gave Charlie a look before carefully beginning to make her way down to the road. Charlie grabbed her arm, stopping her in her tracks.

  She eyed his hand where it gripped her. “I would have the hand of most men who grabbed me in such a way,” she told him.

  Charlie met her stare levelly. “Guess it’s a good thing I ain’t most men. It’s foolish to take that road, Surah. Let me carry your load, but let’s stick to the trees and hills. You said yourself it’s dangerous being who you are. The people who cross there have no respect for Highborns, and they would be particularly interested in a stranded princess.”

  Surah had not yet decided if she was going to argue when a high-pitched scream scraped across the sky. Their heads whipped in the direction of the road and there they saw a young girl and an old woman. The young girl was obviously the one who’d issued the first scream, because she let out another one that was so loud it could have scattered the clouds. Both the girl and the old woman seemed to be running for their lives. A second later, ten dirty-looking men came into sight, yelling curses and waving crudely-made weapons over their heads.

  Surah hardly had time to process all of this when she looked beside her to see that Charlie was no longer there. Her head whipped around and she spotted him setting his guitar against a tree and creeping down the hill toward the road, heading toward the place where the men would most likely catch the girl and the woman.

  “Stay here,” he whispered, and only stopped when he saw Surah start toward him. He jogged back to her and placed his hands solidly on her shoulders. His blue-green eyes burned into hers. “I mean it, Surah. Stay here. Don’t get close to the road. The less people who see you, the better.” He kissed her forehead, making heat ignite instantly in her stomach. “Do as I say,” he commanded, and took off toward the road.

  Surah let him get a few steps ahead and then followed silently behind him. She’d never been good at taking orders. Later, she would wish over and over that just this once, she would have.

  CHAPTER 14

  CHARLIE

  Surah stayed back, hidden within the trees as the girl and the old woman ran past them.

  Charlie stepped out onto the road, the crossbow held down but at the ready. He held a hand up to the approaching group of men. “In a hurry to get somewhere, gentlemen?” he aske
d.

  Some of the men came to a stop, eyeing the weapon in Charlie’s hand, but a few of them tried to keep going around him to get to the ladies. Charlie raised the bow and pointed it at them. They came to uncertain halts, grimaces sporting rotted teeth on their ugly, bearded faces.

  The biggest of the lot spat a wad of mucous onto the dusty road and sneered at Charlie. “You just mind your damn business, pretty boy,” he said. “This matter don’t concern you.”

  Charlie looked back at the girl and the old woman, who were still inching away but were staring back at Charlie with wide, frightened, hopeful eyes.

  Charlie gave his head a small shake and met the big man’s stare. “I think you’re wrong, buddy. I see a group of men chasin’ screamin’ ladies, and it concerns me very much.”

  The men were slowly fanning out around him, and Surah had to clench her fists to keep from jumping out and joining Charlie. She knew he was right about her being seen, as they had no idea what Theo had told people, and she had no doubt now that Charlie was right that these type of men would be “particularly interested” in a princess.

  But it went against her nature to just sit on the sidelines and watch.

  The big man laughed, and it was an ugly sound, as if his very lungs were dirty. “Them ain’t no ladies. Them is a couple of rotten thieves. They stole from us. Now, this the last time I’ma tell you. Get out of the Gods damned way.”

  Charlie shook his head again, sighing. Surah felt like slapping him upside his head. Couldn’t he see that he was seriously outnumbered?

  “Afraid I can’t do that, buddy,” he said, giving his head another small shake. “But I’d sure appreciate it if you’d let these ladies go on their way so I can go on mine.”

  The big man and his band found this hilarious, clutching their hefty bellies and laughing their dirty laughs. Surah’s fists clenched tighter and tighter.

  Then a hand wrapped around Surah’s mouth and a cold blade was pressed close to her throat. Pungent breath floated to her nose as a deep, scratchy voice sounded right next to her ear. “Careful what you do next, darlin’. My hand’s been known to slip, and we wouldn’t want that, would we?”

  Surah swallowed, and the blade at her throat dug in painfully with the small movement.

  CHAPTER 15

  CHARLIE

  Charlie eyed the men surrounding him, having a sudden, powerful feeling of Deja-vu. The looks on the men’s faces were ones he had seen before, no different than those he’d met at Contrain, who ganged up on others because they had the yellowest of bellies under all that grime and malice.

  He also knew this made them particularly dangerous, and the only thing keeping them from rushing him at once was the crossbow he held tight in his hands. A small sweat broke out across his back, and his jaw clenched as a particularly terrible memory came flooding back, overlaying the reality in front of him like a thick blanket.

  The scene shifted before his eyes, and now instead of being surrounded by open land, he was surrounded by high stone walls on every side, his feet on cracked concrete, rather than the dusty lane of Common Man’s Pass. In Charlie’s eyes, the sky overhead went dark, the smell of coming rain on the breeze, even though not a cloud had rolled in and he could feel the sun on his skin. He didn’t have to look to know there were armed guards standing in towers that made up each corner of the stone square that was the yard. His rational mind knew he was having some messed up mental flashback to a time that was no more, the things of the current world mingling with the past, but the dreadful feeling in his gut argued differently. The past and the current had one very important similarity.

  The gang of angry men surrounding him.

  His eyes went to the biggest of them. He was the one. Take him out, and the others would back off. Take him out, and the others would show respect. Michael had told him this and Michael would know, having spent various stretches in Contrain himself, never a stretch as long as the one Charlie was facing, but enough to know what he was talking about. He remembered his brother’s last words to him before he was led away to face his sentence. He remembered each word as if they’d been spoken only a moment ago.

  Michael had put his hand on Charlie’s shoulder, reaching into the cell window of the dungeon he was locked in to do so. Charlie could still see the look in Michael’s eyes, so sure and steady, and he’d had to bite down hard on his tongue to appear this way as well.

  “You’ll make it through this, Charlie-Boy,” Michael had said.

  Charlie had nodded, staring at his brother’s face and trying to lock it into memory. He would not be seeing it again for three centuries, if ever. Michael continued on, because despite Charlie’s stoic silence, he’d somehow known his little brother needed to hear more.

  “You know why you’ll make it? Because you’re a survivor, brother.” Michael had pressed his face to the bars then, his hand stretching in and stroking Charlie’s hair. Charlie had not allowed himself to cry at this moment, but not for lack of wanting to.

  “You better get goin’ ‘fore someone sees you, Mikey,” Charlie had said, taking a seat in the corner of the cell and resting his head back against the wall.

  “Charlie?”

  “What?”

  “You want some advice?”

  “From you? Let me think about that for a few centuries, brother. I’ll get back to you.”

  “I’m serious, Charlie, so listen.” The way Michael had said this made Charlie sit up. Michael said, “Don’t back down when you’re in there. Not at all. Not once. You start backin’ down, you won’t stop. When they start messin’ with you, you need to make an example outta someone, but not just anyone, not if you want them to respect you. And I promise you this, Charlie-Boy, you want them to respect you.”

  Charlie leaned his head back against the wall once more, a deep sigh escaping him. “Alright, Mikey,” he’d said. “So who do I make the example outta?”

  Michael had given him a half smile then, a rueful gleam in his eyes. “The one everyone is afraid of.” He said, and paused. “The biggest and the baddest, Charlie-Boy. The biggest and the baddest.”

  The walls of the yard disappeared, the guard towers and angry prisoners and gray sky cleared too, the memory of that time slipping away. Once again he was standing in between the hills of Common Man’s Pass.

  Charlie snapped out of his memory-induced stupor just as the big man leading the gang of dirty men threw a punch that made Charlie’s head rock back on his shoulders and the world go momentarily black.

  CHAPTER 16

  SURAH

  The hood was ripped from her head, her lavender curls tumbling out of it, and then dirty fingers were running through her hair, that putrid breath still puffing over her shoulder. Her eyes flicked to the side, but she could not see who was behind her, and her heart was pounding in her chest. She’d been so worried about Charlie’s safety that she’d neglected her own, and now she was going to pay for it.

  “What have we got here?” asked the man with the knife to her neck. His fingers continued stroking her head, making her stomach turn with disgust. He inhaled deeply, stirring the loose strands around her face. She swallowed again to stifle the bile rising up her throat.

  “You smell too sweet to belong way out here, darlin’.”

  Surah fought hard against the fear that had seized her. She had surely been in worse situations in her long life, but something about having a sharp blade digging into her flesh always did the trick. Especially under the circumstances. The blade dug in deeper as she spoke. “Please, sir,” she said, her voice low and sweet and carefully controlled. “The knife is unnecessary, I assure you.”

  “Whooo-eee!” The man hollered. “Listen to you!” His head leaned over her shoulder and she caught a glimpse of muddy brown eyes and a deeply cratered complexion. His eyes widened as he took in her face, and Surah’s heart sunk down to her chest. He recognized her. His next words confirmed this.

  “You ain’t just a Highborn,” he said, his scratchy
voice sounding almost wondered. “You’re Princess Surah, ain’t ya? Well, I’ll be Gods damned! I’m in the presence of my future queen.” He didn’t remove the knife from her throat. If anything, his gripped on her tightened.

  Surah’s teeth clenched in a vice lock as the man nuzzled his nose against her neck, letting her silky hair fall over his dirty face. She couldn’t keep her lips from curling up. Her mouth felt terribly dry.

  “I’m right, ain’t I?” he asked, his lips right against her skin, trapping his foul words against her neck. “Why, I would know your face anywhere, Princess. A face like yours is hard to forget. I ‘member the first time I saw you. It was at the Winter Parade. You sat ‘top your tiger and waved to the crowd in this snow white dress with red roses sewn into it… and I remember I got sad, Princess. You know why?”

  Surah didn’t answer. All she could smell was his awful breath and all she could feel was the blade against her tender skin, his slimly hands crawling over her. She had heard stories about girls who’d had unpleasant encounters with men, but such a thing had never happened to her, and she felt violated and angry and scared.

  Suddenly very scared.

  “That’s okay,” he chuckled. “I’ma tell you why I was sad. I was sad because I was just a boy and already I knew I’d never even have a chance of gettin’ to run my hands through that pretty lavender hair of yours.” His fingers left her hair and traveled slowly down her arm. “Or touch that perfect skin.” His lips went back to her ear, and she could feel the nasty wetness of them there. Then his tongue flicked out and licked her, and she couldn’t help the terrible shudder that wracked her body. “I knew I’d never get to do any of the things I’d have countless dreams about.” He sighed, stirring her hair again. “I could tell you about those things, Princess… but I’d rather just show you.”

  Her heart lodged itself in her throat, and a thin sweat broke out across her brow as his dirty fingers unclasped the front of her cloak and began reaching inside. She could hardly process what was happening.