Heir to the Sun

by Jennifer Allis Provost

  “No. I lied to the demon. Then I stabbed him, just like you taught me.”

  “That’s my girl,” Caol’nir said as he squeezed her hand. “Where did you stab him?”

  “Here,” she said, stroking the side of his neck. “How did this happen?” Alluria asked as she examined the unfamiliar scars.

  “I used your firestarting spell against a demon,” he replied. “The demon you met today.”

  “You should have made the fire hotter,” she said. “I will teach you how.” Alluria let her fingertips explore the new, slick skin upon his neck, then Caol’nir asked what happened after she stabbed Mersgoth.

  “He dropped me, but all stabbing him really did was make him angrier. He had me again in an instant and grabbed Keena, and then he dragged us to the altar… He threw Keena on the stone and me on my face…he held me down with his foot as he took her, saying over and over that he would do worse to me. Then he was done with her, and he threw me on the stone, into what was left of Keena…he ripped open my robe and I saw him, bloody as if he’d ripped Keena apart from the inside… and then the pain as he burnt me…”

  Alluria’s voice trailed off and Caol’nir pushed up the edge of her garment, looking at the gouges on her inner thighs. He steeled himself against her possible response, and asked what the mordeth did after he marked her. To his great surprise, she smiled at him.

  “Then I heard you,” she replied, “you were there in time.” Caol’nir pulled her into his arms, tears running down his face.

  “I’ll never leave you again,” he promised. “You were right; I shouldn’t have left you behind.” He ran his fingers through the soft strands of her hair, knowing that he was holding her too tightly for her injuries but unable to let her go. Alluria wrapped her arms around him, all the while whispering that she had not been afraid, that she had known he would come for her. When Caol’nir opened his eyes, his gaze settled on something unusual nestled in the bed.

  “What’s this?” he asked, retrieving one of his shirts from the furs.

  “It’s the shirt you wore the day before you left, when you sparred with Caol’non. I’ve slept with it every night since you left.”

  “It must have smelled horrible,” he observed.

  “It smelled like you,” she corrected. “I’d hold it and pretend you were here with me.”

  “You missed me so much?” he asked, stroking her cheek.

  “Caol’nir, every night I ached for you,” Alluria replied, pulling him into her arms. As she lay back against the furs, Caol’nir’s hands moved across her hips and then to her back, and he felt fresh bruises beginning to swell. He murmured that she was hurt, that she should rest; he did not want to worsen her injuries.

  “I’m fine,” she breathed, “as long as you’re here, I’m fine.”

  The shadows had grown long before Caol’nir acknowledged that time was slipping away. Alluria was asleep against him, her shining hair spread around her, and he was loathe to wake her. Then he felt Alluria’s hands move across his arms, and she brought his wrist before her face.

  “You still wear it,” she said as she ran her fingers over the blue ribbon, now so battered it was more of a dusky gray than the sapphire hue of her eyes.

  “Does that surprise you?”

  “No,” she replied, “not at all.” Alluria kissed Caol’nir’s wrist, then tugged his braid over his shoulder. She unwound the leather thong, and unwove his hair. When it was loose, she said, “I missed the way your hair fell around me, like a sun-colored curtain, I missed watching you sleep…” her voice trailed off while she ran her fingers through the long strands of his hair. Alluria moved to her side and regarded her mate. “Why did the demon say I was for him alone?”

  Caol’nir stroked Alluria’s hair, trying not to lose himself in her deep blue gaze. She was certainly beautiful enough to have divine blood in her veins. “Rihka, you told me you were born in the temple. What else do you know of your parents?”

  “I know that my mother arrived at the temple shortly before I was born, begging sanctuary. I know nothing of my father.”

  “What became of your mother?”

  “Before my first winter she was gone. Why are you asking me this?” Caol’nir did not answer readily. “Caol’nir, if you know something of them you must to tell me.”

  “There is a belief, one that was shared by the mordeth-gall, that you are Olluhm’s daughter.” Alluria stared at him, and Caol’nir explained what he had learned of Sahlgren’s plot with Ehkron.

  “Why would our king commit such terrible acts?” Alluria asked once the tale was finished.

  “He desired power, and Ehkron was his means to get it,” Caol’nir replied. “Rahlle believes Sahlgren has become bored as king of only Parthalan and will seek to conquer the nine realms with his abominable legion.”

  “And this… this is why the priestesses were brought to Teg’urnan, yet the priests left behind,” she murmured.

  “He brought the priestesses to the Great Temple as an offering for the mordeths, with you reserved for Ehkron,” Caol’nir confirmed.

  “This is why Sarelle didn’t care if I left the temple,” she said at length. “It didn’t matter to her if I was chaste; I just needed to be there when they came.” Alluria pulled away from Caol’nir and covered her face with her hands. “When she sealed the doors, she looked right at me. She even convinced me to be an herbalist, to single me out by dressing me in that bright green robe.” Alluria laughed shortly. “My leaving the temple certainly helped her plan along.”

  “It also made me very happy,” Caol’nir reminded her as he kissed her shoulder.

  “I…cannot be Olluhm’s child,” she whispered. “I just can’t. Atreynha never mentioned it, and she spoke of my mother often. She never mentioned my father.”

  “Atreynha probably wasn’t present when they made you,” Caol’nir said. “Was your mother a priestess?”

  “No,” Alluria replied. “I…I know nothing of her life before.”

  “Has Olluhm ever honored women who were not of the temple?”

  “It has happened,” she admitted, “and those children are revered, for they are even fewer than those born of the order.” Alluria looked up at her mate, her eyes as wide as a child’s. “If I was his daughter, wouldn’t I know? How would the mordeth-gall know but not me?”

  “I don’t know, mea nalla,” Caol’nir said as he stroked her hair. “It would make sense, you being his daughter; he never claimed you, and he released you to come to me. Remember when we were bound? He kept referring to you as his child.”

  “We’re all his children,” she said, but without conviction. She rolled flat on her back and stared at the ceiling. “Is this even possible?”

  “Of course it is possible. You command magics elusive to all but the highest sorcerers; you understand plants as if they speak to you… Even the wind bends to your will. And,” he added, raising himself up on one elbow, “I have always thought you more beautiful that any goddess.” He drew a line from her cheek to the hollow of her throat, then kissed her neck. “My divine mate.”

  She grasped his hand and nestled herself against his chest. “So it was Ehkron that attacked me?”

  “Ehkron is dead,” Caol’nir said flatly. “The demon you encountered was Mersgoth, his right hand. It was he I used the fire spell against,” he reminded her, then pressed her fingers to the newly healed scar.

  “Did you kill Ehkron?”

  “No, an elf girl did in the mortal realm.” He kissed Alluria’s forehead, then rolled her onto her belly to examine the wounds on her back. He could see where the demon’s hoof had held her down. “Does it hurt badly?” he asked as he stroked her ribs.

  “Yes, but I can manage,” she replied. Caol’nir moved Alluria to her back and retrieved the salve, turning his attention to the scratches that raked across her torso.

  “I meant what I said,” he whispered as he traced the angry red welts; luckily, the gouges weren’t deep. “I’ll never leave
you again.”

  “Caol’nir, don’t blame yourself. You’re the one who saved me, not the one who did me harm.” He rubbed ointment into the scratches then he met her blue gaze. He smiled, then he examined the mark burned into her thigh.

  “Can you walk?” he asked. She nodded as he salved the burn then wound a bandage around her leg. “I need to get you out of the palace.” Caol’nir helped her to her feet, and after a few steps, she confirmed that she could walk under her own power.

  “Where are we going?” she asked, and he told her of the Ish h’ra hai camped beyond the eastern foothills. He also told her that they would take the palace on the morrow and bring Sahlgren to justice. Caol’nir then mentioned that he needed to find his brother, and Alluria touched his elbow.

  “Fiornacht…” she began, and he gathered her to him.

  “I saw,” was all he said.

  “He was the only con’dehr in the temple when they came,” she said, her voice cracking. “He tried defending us, but there were so many.” Caol’nir stroked her hair; he had wanted to protect Alluria from the evils of the world, not leave her in the middle of them. “He was very brave,” she said, wiping her cheeks.

  “What of Caol’non?” he asked, kissing away the last of her tears.

  “He’s the head of the king’s guard.” Caol’nir regarded her for a moment and wondered if his brother could be as corrupt as the Sahlgren.

  “Then we will leave him be. The safest place in Teg’urnan, for now, is with the king.”

  Alluria frowned but didn’t argue, and dressed herself in one of the simple frocks she wore when not in the temple. Caol’nir pulled on a shirt and then his jerkin and felt a familiar weight in the inner pocket, so familiar he’d nearly forgotten what was there. He withdrew the silver disc offered it to his mate.

  “Do you know what this is?” he asked. Alluria grasped the disc, fingering the edge as if it may transform at any moment.

  “It’s a portal,” she murmured. “You found this in the temple?”

  “No, Mersgoth used it to escape from the north,” he replied. “Is this what Sarelle used?” Alluria nodded, then continued her examination of the object.

  “The High Priestess, bearing a demonic portal,” she murmured. “Have you used it?”

  “I don’t know how,” he replied. “I threw it to the ground, like Mersgoth did, but it just laid there.”

  “You need to hold your destination in the forefront of your mind,” Alluria explained. “So the spell knows where to take you.”

  “Can we use it to leave the palace now?” Caol’nir asked.

  “That would not be wise,” Alluria replied. “The way I understand them, whoever created the portal is aware of each use.” Caol’nir took the disc from her and shoved it inside his jerkin, then knelt as he wrapped Alluria’s feet in soft bandages and eased on her riding boots. Once he pulled Alluria upright, she moved to buckle the sword belt she was now accustomed to wearing, but Caol’nir stayed her hand.

  “Take this instead,” he said as he retrieved a different belt, complete with the blade she had always seen him carry.

  “But this is your best sword,” she protested.

  “I had a new one made,” he said, and drew his troll sword from its scabbard and laid it across the bed. Alluria traced the fine engraving that ran the length of the blade.

  “Dame-of-the-wood, hart’s tongue, lover’s ease, flaedyne, toadflax, Cydia’s brambles,” she murmured, naming each of the herbs as her fingertips traced their outline. “These are the herbs we gathered the first morning you brought me to the meadow.”

  “They are,” Caol’nir affirmed, drawing her attention to the sparkling blue stone. “I want you to know that you never left my thoughts, not even when I was half a world away. I also picked you some sunbonnets this morning, but I seem to have lost them along the way,” he added with a sheepish grin.

  “You can pick me more,” she said, linking her arms behind his head. Caol’nir let himself relax into her embrace, then he pulled away and pinned a cloak about Alluria’s shoulders.

  “Come, nalla, we must make haste.” He drew her toward the door.

  “How are we to leave?” she asked.

  “No one knows I’ve returned,” he replied, “and only those who were in the temple know what’s happened. We will simply walk out.”

  Alluria nodded. “That…that will work?”

  Caol’nir wrapped his arms around her. “The demons are sealed in the temple. If anything else tries to harm you, they’ll have to go through me.”

  Alluria smiled, then she darted out of his arms and retrieved a leather thong. “And if anyone tries to harm you, they must go through me,” she said as she tied back his hair. The mates smiled at each other, and left their chamber.

  That walk through Teg’urnan was the most nerve-wracking experience of Caol’nir’s life; he was more nervous traversing the halls he had known since a child than when he entered a temple filled with demons. They avoided the well-travelled corridors, and the king’s quarters, and both breathed a sigh of relief once they were in sight of the stable.

  And then they saw Caol’non, speaking with the stable master about a horse that had turned up with distinctively elfin riding gear.

  “Turn,” Caol’nir hissed as he shoved Alluria toward the sola. She stumbled, so Caol’nir carried her behind the arena with one hand clamped across her mouth. Once he was certain they were alone, he set her on her feet. Alluria’s eyes blazed as she waited for him to explain himself.

  “I can’t let him see me and leave unawares!”

  “But he is your brother! Surely he would help you—” Caol’nir placed his fingers on her lips.

  “Unless he has been compromised.” She tried to continue, but Caol’nir spoke over her. “If Sarelle can set demons loose in the temple, if our king can make us slaves, anyone can be compromised.” Once Allluria nodded, he led her to the northern edge of the palace complex.

  “Where are we going?” she asked.

  “The north watchtower.” Once they had climbed to the platform, she looked down at the smooth outer wall of the palace.

  “There are no steps on the other side,” she observed.

  “It wouldn’t be a very good fortification if there were,” he said, flashing her that grin of his. He tossed a length of rope over the side of the tower, then turned back to his mate. “Do you think you can climb down the rope?” Alluria peeked over the side, and Caol’nir noted her taut expression. “I can carry you, if you need me to.”

  “I can do it,” she affirmed, forcing a smile. “Don’t worry, nall. If I can survive a demon who thinks I’m his intended mate and a crazed High Priestess, I can make it over a simple wall.”

  Caol’nir went over the wall first, assuring Alluria he was right below. All went well until the very end, when her foot slipped and she fell onto Caol’nir. They landed in a heap, tumbled but unharmed.

  “The most beautiful women are also the heaviest,” Caol’nir observed.

  “Hush, we didn’t fall that far.”

  “No, you didn’t fall that far; you landed on me almost immediately.” Alluria swatted his shoulder as she sat up, then looked at the rope dangling from the tower.

  “You don’t think that rope is conspicuous?”

  Again, he flashed her that grin, then he generated a small bit of fire in his hands. While Alluria watched Caol’nir threw it at the rope, burning it away from the stone column.

  “Modifying my spells?” Alluria asked.

  “Always,” Caol’nir said. “A good warrior uses any means necessary.”

  “I never realized what a well-trained warrior you are,” Alluria murmured as he retrieved the rope.

  “I hoped you’d never need to know,” he answered. Caol’nir looped the rope over one arm as he extended the other to his mate. “Come, rihka, they’re waiting for us just beyond the hills.”

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  As the mates took the roundabout route around th
e eastern hills, Caol’nir nearly forgot about the terrible events within the Great Temple. Instead, his thoughts were of his many outings with Alluria to gather herbs, the thrill of spiriting a priestess from Teg’urnan’s walls. Then Alluria stumbled, reminding him of her wounds.

  “I’m fine,” she insisted, leaning against Caol’nir’s arm.

  “We can rest,” Caol’nir said, but Alluria waved away his concern.

  “I’d rather just get there,” she said. “We’ll both be safer surrounded by your warriors.” Caol’nir laced his fingers with hers as they walked in silence to the crest of the hill. Alluria sucked in her breath at the sight of a seemingly endless sea of tents.

  “So many,” she murmured. “Where are the slaves?”

  “There.” Caol’nir indicated an orderly encampment to the left, then swept his arm to a vast expanse of tents, “and those are the elves. Behind them are the dark fae.” Alluria nodded, and then looked to a smaller group.

  “And them?”

  “That’s what’s left of the legion,” Caol’nir replied bitterly. Caol’nir bent his head, again wondering how this could have happened before their very noses. Fiornacht knew something was wrong, he thought. If only I’d tried talking to him… Caol’nir shook his head. He hadn’t made time to speak with his brother, and now he was lost to him.

  “Fiornacht thought you were a good man,” Alluria said quietly. Caol’nir had long ago stopped asking her if she could read his mind. “He was honored to have you as a brother.”

  “As was I,” Caol’nir replied. They said nothing more until they approached the center of the camp, marked by a large green silk tent that proudly waved the banner of Tingu. Alluria murmured that it needed no standard, for it was obviously the king’s residence. As they drew close to Lormac’s tent the Prelate emerged.

  “Daughter!” Tor rushed forward and took Alluria’s hands. He saw the dark bruises coiled around her wrists. “What has happened?”

  “Horrible things,” she replied, then retreated to her mate’s arms.

  “When I arrived, the Great Temple was sealed,” Caol’nir began, forgoing the pleasantries of a greeting.