The ambassador managed a smile, despite his foul mood. “You have, brave warrior. The Vadal are proud to call the Sunjaa our dear friends, for who in all Gilalion can match the courage of the dark, desert race?”
Was Darien expected to answer? He was not sure, but he hoped not, because he did not have an answer. There was a reason the blond-haired man across from him was the Vadal ambassador, for he seemed able to speak honeyed words in the bleakest of circumstances.
Darien finished cooking another perch. “Does the boy want any more?”
Saerileth repeated the question to Jahen, but the boy shook his head. “I think he’s ready for bed.”
Darien rose and prepared a pallet, laying out several cloaks, which he had appropriated during his flight from Arinport. The desert was cold at night, and the boy would have to be cocooned. Once Jahen was laid down to sleep, Darien caught Saerileth in his arms. She had survived Ulen’s treachery up north; she had not been caught in the fire that destroyed his home. Darien kissed her in his sudden joy that she was still with him. She had decided to brave the brutality of the desert and see justice done, and he loved her for that – that, and so much more.
“Do not worry, my love,” Saerileth said between kisses, seeming to read Darien’s mind. “Ulen will not long sit on the Sunjaa throne.”
“And what of your vengeance, Saeri?”
Saerileth caressed his scalp, tracing lines back behind his ears. “I still do not know if it was Ulen who was ultimately responsible. I am Zenji; I have one death owed to me. That he was the instrument of my clan’s demise is certain, but vengeance is a sacred thing for the Zenji. I cannot take the wrong life, for then the true culprit will escape me. My clan will curse me from the afterlife if I let the guilty one go. Perhaps the raid was Ulen’s idea, but I must have confirmation of that before I strike.”
“Why don’t you think it is him? He’s killed the king and seized the throne. Surely a man who can do this could have murdered all your family.” The words pained Darien to speak, for he did not want to upset Saerileth, but he had to be blunt. There was no other way to talk about the tragedy.
“It is not that I think him incapable of doing so. He is an evil man. But from what I have seen of him, he involves himself only in Sunjaa politics. Why would he take a ship to the Dimadan and slaughter an entire clan with whom he has no connection?”
Darien had not thought of that. He did not know the ins and outs of Sunjaa domestic politics, to say nothing of foreign relations.
“I have been planning my vengeance for thirteen years,” Saerileth said, placing her arms around Darien’s waist just as his were wrapped around hers. “I have uncovered no sign of Ulen in dealings with my clan. If he had had any Zenji connections that I knew of, maybe I could have puzzled out the originator of the plan. But as far as I can tell, Ulen had no cause to destroy us. Thus, I think there must be a hidden third party.”
It was true that Ulen worked only for his own benefit, and it was also clear that Saerileth had thought things through. If vengeance was a holy quest to the Zenji, then Darien would aid Saerileth in any way he could. “The choice is yours, of course,” Darien said. “Know that you have my support, whatever path you choose.”
Saerileth kissed him. “I love you so.”
“And I have loved no other as I love you.”
Their kiss was interrupted by sudden movement out in the darkness. The sky was clear, so moonlight exposed the approaching silhouette. Darien released Saerileth and glanced at Jahen. “The boy.”
Saerileth nodded and walked over to the pallet. She had decided that if anyone attacked them, she would defend Jahen’s life to the best of her Lotus ability. And Darien did not doubt her training.
“Stand ready, Excellency.” Darien fetched his sword and held it before him, letting it sway and dance in his arm, a deadly extension of his own flesh.
The shadow stopped and raised its arms. “It is I, Kamen.”
Kamen stepped into the ring of firelight, revealing himself. He carried three heavy packs of supplies, along with two parasols. He smiled at Darien, and Darien, too, felt his spirits rise at the sight of his dearest friend. Darien embraced Kamen and laughed. “So, you made it out.”
“Did you expect me not to?” Kamen’s fine, straight white teeth gleamed in the firelight, but when Darien glanced back at Saerileth and saw her frowning, her blue eyes hard like sapphires, he felt his mirth evaporate. Darien found it natural to be easy with Kamen, but he also understood how Saerileth felt. Kamen had participated in group sex with them, so she was uncomfortable around the young nobleman. At least, that was the way Darien saw it.
But they needed Kamen. If Saerileth was going to attend to the boy’s safety, then Darien would need a sword-mate, were they to be attacked.
“Aeirakai guide our steps.” Darien smacked Kamen on the back.
Kamen glanced up at the double moons traveling the dark sky above him. “So, we’re traveling by night?”
Darien had not thought of that, but it was a great idea. He looked at Saerileth. “It would be safer. We could save water that way, rest during the heat, keep out of the sun.”
“It will take more time,” Saerileth said.
The ambassador grumbled.
True, but the coming revolution did not have to be tomorrow. “Very well,” Darien said. “We shall travel mainly by moonlight and into the mid-morning. Then we will make a shelter each day to get out of the sun.”
Kamen sat then and ate with Darien, and Saerileth joined them. They planned to finish their meal and then set off. Darien introduced Kamen to the ambassador, but they had already met at court before, though they were not well acquainted. Little was said over their hasty midnight meal, and the silence was broken only by a cry from Saerileth.
“We are discovered!”
Kamen and Darien jumped to their feet, and Saerileth vanished. Darien assumed she would see to Jahen’s safety. “Where away?” Darien asked, speaking like a sailor. He trusted Saerileth’s acute hearing.
“Directly south,” her voice called out from the far side of the campfire.
Darien and Kamen drew their swords and soon after saw the group of shadows running across the sand toward them. The night was clear, so stealth was out of the question. These men sprinted, relying on their speed to catch their prey off guard. Darien counted ten men, their swords glinting purple in the mixed moonlight.
“This is like a bad dream,” Kamen said.
“Only if we lose.” Darien glanced sideways at Kamen and smiled.
“Like hell we will.” Kamen widened his legs and bounced with his knees. He always did that before they threw planks across to board a pirate ship.
But Darien stood perfectly still, letting his enemies come to him, allowing them to think they were on the offensive, only to turn the fight to his own terms. Darien did not move for anyone, and all the men who ever thought they would make short work of the passive-looking giant were now rotting at the bottom of the sea.
Kamen wielded two swords, twin blades that curved to cruel points. In the steel of the blades was etched his house symbol, a crouching cat. Darien held only one sword before him, but it was twice the length of Kamen’s, a large weapon that most men wielded with two hands. Darien swung it effortlessly with one.
Their assailants came at them with swords swinging wildly, throwing all caution to the chill, night winds, and Darien had to backpedal just to adjust to the ferocity of the onslaught. He had not expected such foolish abandon. Kamen, too, spun and ducked, crossing his blades above his head to fend off the first wave of wild hacking. Darien locked eyes with his friend for just a moment, but Kamen’s eyes told him nothing. Kamen was just as mystified as he. Darien shifted his weight forward and lunged. He would deal with these assassins on whatever ground they wished.
He ran the first one through on his sword, shattering his victim’s spine. The man convulsed and vomited blood as his own body weight eviscerated him in his fall. The sand drank his dar
k blood. The move had left Darien’s back exposed, or so his next victim thought. He swept in from behind and slashed downwards, clearly hoping to take Darien’s head, for Darien would not be able to recover quickly enough to bring his sword up to block. After all, the blade was still half in the other man. But what the assassin did not expect was for Darien to use his bare hands. He dropped his sword and tumbled forward, so when he popped to his feet, the man’s forward motion had ran him smack into the middle of Darien’s chest. His mouth fell open in surprise, and he raised his blade to strike. That was the last thing he ever did. Darien reached forward and took a hold of the man’s jaw by putting his fingers into his mouth and clenching under the jawbone with his thumb. And then Darien yanked. Bone cracked and splintered, and the man cried out like a bleating goat being drowned. After breaking the man’s jaw, Darien yanked again, this time sideways. The man’s neck bone gave way, and his head fell limp. Darien dropped his second victim, sprang forward, and snatched his sword from the sand. Kamen meanwhile fought well, spinning his dual blades around him like he was threshing wheat.
Another foe threw himself forward at Darien, hacking at the air as if hoping to merely strike some part of Darien’s flesh. The man was clearly trained in sword play, but he was not fighting in any way a seasoned warrior would. Darien was baffled, but he did not let his guard down for a moment. He could not simply engage his enemy by crossing blades with him, because the man was not playing by the rules. He slashed and struck wildly, his movements in no way indicating that he wanted to kill Darien, just injure him.
Darien timed his foe’s movements, and when he had them figured out, he lashed out and snatched his wrist, locking it in his powerful grasp. Before the clumsy assassin could respond, Darien snapped both bones in his forearm. After that, it was short work.
Not all the attackers rushed at Kamen and Darien so recklessly. The two still left were alive because they not only knew how to fight, but they were also fighting as soldiers should. Darien did not recognize their faces, but that did not mean anything. The Sunjaa army was large, divided into regional regiments, spread out across the nation, south beyond the river, and up the coast as far as Fihdal territory. The two assassins crouched together, shoulder to shoulder, their swords held dangerously before them. Eight of their companions lay dead, and Kamen and Darien were unscathed.
“They aren’t running,” Kamen said, once Darien was standing next to him again.
Darien adjusted his grip on his sword’s leather pommel. “They know they won’t get far.” He glanced behind him, but neither the ambassador nor the child was anywhere to be seen. Darien trusted that Saerileth had them somewhere safe, perhaps beyond the next dune. He ignored the assassins, letting them stew in their own fear awhile. Kamen chuckled, clearly knowing what Darien was doing.
Darien stretched his arms up over his head and sighed, acting as if he had some slight pain in his back he needed to work out. “It’s been awhile since I’ve enjoyed a good fight. How are you feeling, Kamen?”
“Fine.” Kamen pressed one hand into the other palm and cracked his knuckles. “Glad to see I haven’t lost my touch since retiring.”
“Some retirement,” Darien said. “We have to go all the way up north, and then gather an army, and then sail a fleet down the river all the way back down here, and then lay siege to Arinport and kill that traitorous Ulen and all the fools who followed him.” He wanted to make sure that these men knew exactly what was going to happen after he had killed them.
Kamen shook his head like it was a real shame. “That’s a lot of work.”
Darien groaned a long affirmative, and the assassins both looked at each other. They were cornered, and they knew it. Darien would not give them a chance to strike first. He leaped forward with a mighty cry, startling the pair with his ferocity. They raised their swords above them in response, but that was just what Darien expected them to do. He grappled the one nearest him and yelled at Kamen to take the other one.
Darien’s foe was no match for his strength. After pinning the man’s arms, Darien squeezed him in a powerful hug. Darien could feel his back and stomach muscles straining against the pressure, but the man could not escape. Darien only squeezed more tightly, and it was only then a matter of moments before those muscles all went limp as the assassin’s backbone gave way. Darien dropped his prey and looked over to check on Kamen’s progress. The battle was over. Kamen’s foe was dead as well, but Kamen himself, too, lay in the sand bleeding.
Darien rushed to his friend’s side. The cut was superficial, a thin line of blood from Kamen’s pelvic bone to his ribs.
“A scratch.” Kamen extended his hand, and Darien helped him to his feet.
“We made short work of them, didn’t we?” Darien laughed, his body tense, every muscle taut, every nerve singing in the joy of battle. He looked around, almost hoping for more enemies to appear. But then he thought of Saerileth, and he turned to go check on her.
Kamen moved to walk with Darien, but his legs gave way, and he collapsed.
“What’s wrong?” Darien knelt beside his friend. “What is it?”
“I...don’t...know.” Each word was forced through a labored breath. Kamen’s legs lay rigid, splayed out before him. His arms were stiff as boards.
“Poison.” Saerileth’s voice came out of nowhere.
Darien spun around. “Are you sure?”
Saerileth nodded. The boy and the ambassador were also standing nearby, safe.
Darien turned back to Kamen. Kamen’s breathing was growing shorter, more wheezy. His eyes rolled back in his head. His hands shook, his fingers unmoving.
From Saerileth to Kamen, Darien looked again and again. Then he remembered that Saerileth was a Lotus. “Can you do anything?”
“Yes, I can,” Saerileth said. She dug in her pallav and pulled out some dry herbs.
“You have them on you?” Darien found it rather odd.
“Keep his head elevated.” She nodded at Kamen as she knelt near her bag and fished out a cup.
Darien did so.
Saerileth mixed up a horrible smelling concoction and handed the cup to Darien. “Give it to him now, before his muscles tighten up to the point where his ribs break and puncture his lungs.”
Darien stared at Saerileth. “He’s poisoned?”
Saerileth nodded, and it explained everything. The assassins fought the way they did because they knew that all they needed to do was scratch Kamen and Darien. That was all it would take to kill them.
Darien fed Kamen the herbal drink, and the young man’s body relaxed at once. Soon after he fell asleep.
“That worked fast,” Darien said, laying Kamen’s head on a balled-up cloak. “Ulen had those men poison their blades.”
“Of course he did,” Saerileth said, coming up to hug Darien.
“What do you mean, ‘of course’?”
“Ulen knows you, and he knows no man could defeat you in a fair fight.”
“So he sent ten men, just enough with poison to do the job.”
“But not so many that some might survive and see the boy-king.”
Darien marveled at how quickly Saerileth saw things. “Ulen wants people to think the heir is dead.”
Saerileth’s expression was eloquent. Ulen may have been brutish, but he respected Darien’s battle prowess. He was not as clumsy as Darien had thought.
Kamen was in no condition to travel, so Darien decided to let him sleep through the night. An eerie silence fell over the camp – at least, it was eerie for Darien. It was that strange calm that always followed a battle, how everything that was normal in the world suddenly seemed surreal. A few minutes before, there were ten living, breathing men. Now they were all corpses. Saerileth, who had gone back to the boy after releasing Darien from her arms, was rocking Jahen to sleep, and to Darien, the juxtaposition of that scene – the life, the nurturing – seemed the strangest of all.
“I can never give you a baby, Saeri,” Darien said, the words breaking out unb
idden.
Saerileth looked up from the boy. “What?”
Darien’s mind swam through the surreal moments that enticed him to honesty. “I never seeded any of my concubines.”
Saerileth laid Jahen down and covered him up. The boy was asleep. She moved over to sit next to Darien and put her arm around his waist, hugging him and resting her head on his shoulder. “Lia did that on purpose. She kept your concubines from you unless their wombs were dry, unable to take seed.”
This news shattered the eeriness, and reality rushed back in on Darien with a wave of anger. “What?”
“Lia could not conceive,” Saerileth said, “so she made sure none of your other concubines did, either, lest one replace her as first.”
“She told you this?”
“No. It was so obvious I knew without her saying anything, though when I confronted her, she tried to deny it. Still, the proof was in the records she had kept.”
“I’m blind to so many things,” Darien said, rubbing his hands down Saerileth’s cold arms.
“You are a leader of men, a ship’s captain, and an unmatched warrior. You see what you need to see, just as I do. Lia tried to poison me the day I arrived, to poison my womb, just in case you had gotten me with child aboard ship. That showed me her nature and purpose, so it was easy to discern the rest of her behavior.”
Darien took a few moments to let his mind sort through this information, and his fury evaporated into joy. “So, I can sire children.”
Saerileth nodded and kissed his shoulder.
“I want to make a baby with you. Why haven’t you conceived yet?”
“All Lotuses drink herbs that prevent conception. But I, too, want your child.”
Darien pulled Saerileth up on his lap. “No time like the present.” He reached up and caressed her breasts.
“My love.” Saerileth brushed his lips with her own. “One day I will bear your child, but I must remind you of our present difficulties.” She gestured to the barren desert around them. “We are here for a reason. Your country is in political upheaval, and you must go to war. Now is not the time for baby-making.” She indicated the corpses of the assassins stacked up some ways off for the jackals. “Now is the time for blood and death.”
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