Lost in the Dawn (Erythleh Chronicles Book 1)

by Catherine Johnson

  Serwren willed her heart to stop racing, although it rebelliously ignored her. She needed to remain calm, to give the poison chance to take effect. She had to hide her reactions to Erkas' disgusting threats. She tried to change the subject as a means of distraction. "I know that it wasn't Seddrill that poisoned the wine. He wasn't responsible for General Vassant's death."

  Erkas paused. His smile was pure malevolence. "No, he wasn't. I was."

  Serwren wasn't shocked. No evil act that Erkas could commit would surprise her. "You planned to kill Jorrell before you sent him to Vuthron."

  "No, I planned to kill you."

  She had been wrong about the depths of Erkas' depravity and his capacity to astonish her. "Me?" she asked dumbly.

  "Yes." Erkas regarded her closely. "You've become too powerful. I can't allow you to take Felthiss from me, Serry. But before I destroy you, I will take everything from you."

  Serwren was confident that Erkas would not live long enough to harm Ulli. The thing she loved most in this world was secure. If she had to endure torture again in order to ensure that the poison worked, in order to see the life fade from Erkas, in order to be certain that he was dead, then she would, she could. Jorrell would just have to accept it. If he couldn't, he was attempting to marry her for the wrong reasons.

  Erkas took her silence for defeat. "I see you accept your fate, sister. Come, stay in the palace, here, with me. I'll give you everything you could ever desire. Don't entertain your foolish suitor."

  The inflammatory words were past her lips before she thought them. "I won't just entertain him, brother. I'll enjoy him. I already have."

  Erkas was close enough that, even by the feeble candlelight, Serwren could see the sheen of sweat on his skin. The poison was beginning to work on his vital organs. Erkas was too intent on defiling her to notice, but she knew he had to be experiencing the first effects of the venom.

  "Slut! Of course you have. You'll offer yourself to anyone for the price of what you suppose will be safety. But you're wrong. You will never be safe from me. You will be mine."

  "So you believe." She wanted her voice to be stronger, but it was a mere whisper.

  "So I know, sister. No one denies me."

  Serwren's back hit the wall. She was out of space to retreat. Erkas advanced and she could only watch him come. He caged her against the wall with his hands on either side of her head, his palms flat to the wall.

  "I plan to leave you sore and bleeding, dear sister." His menacing threat was barely audible, but Serwren heard it, felt it, clearly.

  She knew the pain that he could deliver, and the memory rekindled terror, until she noticed that Erkas' pupils were blown wide. Her fear faded in the knowledge that Erkas' demise would not be long in coming. He would never be able to carry out his threat, not all of it.

  "You plan to try." Her voice was stable, conversational, strong.

  Erkas answered only with an ugly grunt as he reached down and ripped at the shoulder of her dress that was less substantial than the other, baring her breast. Serwren flinched, an instinctive reaction to his slobbering lust.

  "Good." He grunted again. "I like you afraid of me. Your fear is piquant. It adds to the seasoning of the dish."

  Erkas grabbed Serwren's breast, hard. She could feel that his palm was clammy as he pawed at her. She tried to hold still. She swallowed the vomit that rose from her stomach along with the memories of that touch.

  Serwren took a deep breath, preparing to endure the pain she knew was coming, but the pain did not come. At least, not to her. Erkas staggered back, doubling over, clutching at his stomach. He cried out as he fell to the floor. A trickle of blood began to make its way from his nostril. Tears of blood tracked down his cheeks. And then he vomited, and his bile was his life fluids. It spattered across the tile floor and stained the hem of Serwren's ruined gown, not that she cared.

  Erkas eyes were fixed blindly on the ceiling as he tried to hold his body together with his own arms, a futile battle against the onslaught of the poison.

  "Serry, Serwren. Sister!" he cried out.

  Serwren knelt at Erkas' side as he writhed. She ignored the gore that poured from his body. A little mess was inconsequential in the grand scheme of things. "Yes, brother. I'm here. I'm here to watch you die. I'm here to kill you."

  "Sister?" Erkas sobbed pathetically, pleadingly, as he reached blindly into his darkness.

  "Sleep well, brother," Serwren whispered.

  Erkas was beyond the ability of speech now. His body began to convulse. He twisted with ugly, violent spasms. Serwren had to stand and back away as his body jerked with enough force that his spine must surely snap. And then, suddenly, he was still. A few small tremors wracked his frame, and then his final breath rattled from between his lips.

  Erkas, her brother, was dead.

  She didn't have much time. It was entirely possible that a servant may have heard Erkas' cries and the commotion of his death. She could do nothing about her torn dress, she would have to let whoever found her come to their own conclusions. Serwren retrieved her cup from the table and took a gulp of the wine in it.

  She dropped the goblet with a wet splat into the rapidly expanding puddle of blood and other fluids that surrounded Erkas' body. She fished for the second vial in her pocket, uncorked the glass, and swallowed the contents with a grimace. She made sure to return the vial to its hiding place.

  Her aim was to throw suspicion away from herself by making it appear that she had been poisoned by the same person that had killed Erkas. It was a risk, but the outcome was better than being executed as a traitor. She might die either way, but at least this would be her own decision. And now, knowing certainly that Erkas was dead, she could be sure that Jorrell would keep Ulli safe.

  The sweating and dizziness gripped her with clammy fingers. Serwren cried out as crippling pain shot through her stomach, and then the endless black of unconsciousness stole her reality.

  Chapter Thirty-One

  Hands.

  There were hands touching her.

  There were hands, fingers, all over her.

  Serwren couldn't see who the hands belonged to.

  Her fevered mind brought forth visions of Erkas and Bornsig.

  Serwren thrashed, trying to get away, trying to free herself. She had to shake them off. She couldn't endure it again. She wouldn't let it happen again. They couldn't have her. No. Not this time.

  There were more hands, gripping her limbs, holding her down.

  Serwren screamed... and screamed... and screamed.

  ~o0o~

  Voices floated out of the darkness.

  Serwren was aware that she was alive, or at least half way to that state. But she could not make her eyelids open. Her limbs were leaden. No part of her body obeyed her. Her throat was sore. She tried to swallow. Pain lanced through her, through her whole self, and yet her voice would not cry out. She could only listen to the voices.

  "Why is she bound?"

  "For her own safety, as much as ours, sir."

  "What do you mean by that?"

  "She was mad, sir, violent. Screaming her dead husband's name, calling for her brother. She was scratching and biting, sir, at us, at herself. The apothecary couldn't get close enough to examine her."

  "Of course she was. She was in pain and being manhandled. And what were the venerable doctor's findings?"

  "That they'd both been poisoned, sir. It was hard to tell... the room was... a mess. But he thought that it must have been something in the wine, that perhaps m'lady hadn't drunk as much of it as her brother."

  "And his prognosis?"

  "He won't say, sir, not until she wakes up."

  "Very well, you may leave."

  "Sir?"

  "Leave!"

  Serwren thought one of the voices might have been Jorrell, but that could not be true. Jorrell was far away. Jorrell had been sent to die in a foreign land. She would never see him again, could never touch him again.

  She felt
hands on her again. She tried to shake them off, but her body was sluggish and slow to respond.

  "Shhhh, Serry. Be still. It's only me."

  Serwren relaxed into the dream of Jorrell's soft voice as she felt hands moving over her wrists and ankles. It couldn't be Jorrell, these hands were hard and rough with calluses. They were not Jorrell's hands. But it was a pleasant enough fantasy to imagine that Jorrell had returned to her. Serwren stopped trying to struggle and relaxed into the unreality that her memories conjured.

  ~o0o~

  She was awake. She opened her eyes. The agony of the light searing her lazy orbs brought with it the knowledge of where she was, of what had happened.

  She was alive. But was she imprisoned? She remembered being restrained, being bound. Were they waiting for her to recover only to execute her?

  Serwren try to speak, but her throat was parched dry. She felt her lip crack, but could only grunt at the fresh spike of pain.

  "Here. Shhh. Don't try to speak. Drink this."

  An arm, roughly the size of a small tree trunk, was pushing under her shoulders, raising her recalcitrant body from the mattress. The cool, sour metal of a goblet touched her lips. And then water, blessed water, liquid ice, was flowing over her tongue.

  All too soon the sweet relief was taken away.

  "Enough. you'll make yourself ill... again."

  Serwren blinked the cobwebs away from her sight. Jorrell. The arm belonged to Jorrell. He was holding her up, leaning over her, scowling.

  "Can you speak?"

  Serwren tried to make her voice work. Her lip, moistened now, was not quite as sore.

  "Yes." It was a gasp, a croak, but she felt control of her herself return with the word. Although, when she tried to sit up, she found herself weaker than a newborn kitten.

  "No. Don't try to move."

  Jorrell reached behind his body with the hand holding the goblet. Serwren was sad to see it go, but then his hand returned, empty now. He reached behind her head, fussing at something, and then he was laying her back, helping her to recline against the pillows that he'd arranged.

  Her vision was still a little cloudy. Serwren saw a hulking shape in the corner of the room. It might have been the shape of a man. A jailor? She pressed herself back into the pillows with what little strength she had left as she shook her head, trying to make out more details.

  "Quiet now. It's only Cael."

  Serwren had to think, had to pause, but she remembered who Cael was. He was Jorrell's friend. Although the fact that there were two senior members of the armed forces in her room was not a calming notion.

  "Where am I?" The words scraped up her throat, but they came readily to her tongue now.

  "In your room." She could make out now that Jorrell was seated on a chair next to her bed. "You've been unconscious for two days."

  "Erkas?" She had to know, had to hear the confirmation. Had it all been worth it? Had she succeeded?

  "Is dead. Serry..." Jorrell's voice fractured as he spoke her name. "Serry, why did you go there? Why did you face him alone?"

  Serwren darted a glance at Cael. She could see more clearly now. The soldier did not look at all pleased with the situation. His glare frightened her. She was not safe yet. She would not speak in front of him.

  Jorrell noted the direction of her gaze. "Cael, can you leave us for a moment?"

  Cael pushed away from the wall that he had been leaning against. His arms remained folded across his chest.

  "No. There is no way in all of Taan's fire that I am leaving you two alone. It appears that neither of you can be trusted to take your next breath without putting yourselves in harm's way."

  Cael was angry because she'd been hurt? Not because she'd killed Erkas?

  Jorrell's chest heaved with a heavy sigh. "Very well." He turned his attention back to Serwren. "Who brought you the wine, Serwren? Who tried to kill you?"

  Serwren swallowed. She was not sure what the two men's reaction would be to her admission. "I... took the wine to Erkas."

  "What?"

  She could see only astonishment in Jorrell's eyes. She wanted to explain, but the words were stuck in her dry throat again. When he heard the sticky clicking noises that passed for her speech, he brought the goblet of water back to her lips and helped her to drink little more.

  "Serry, what did you do?" he asked gently as he took the refreshing liquid away.

  "What I had to. I had to see him die."

  "I told you that I would kill him."

  "I had to do it. He is.. was... evil. He hated you. He would have cheated... somehow."

  Cael's acerbic voice cut through the room. "And you thought the best way to do that was to kill yourself right along with him?"

  "I had to remove doubt... to shift the guilt."

  Cael spoke again, his tone was deeply sarcastic. "And the poison that killed Vassant? Was that a practice? Did you get your quantities mixed up? Or the goblets perhaps?"

  Serwren shook her head. "No. That was Erkas. He was hoping to kill me. He couldn't bear... not having..." Cael was too much a stranger to her for her to continue that explanation. "He hated the thought that I might be growing stronger, politically."

  "He told you this?" Jorrell asked.

  Her explanation had exhausted her. Serwren could only nod.

  "Well, it worked. No one suspects you," Cael confirmed. "Although there are now soldiers stationed in the kitchen, throughout the palace, in the hopes of catching the suspect."

  Jorrell's fingertips ghosted over Serwren's cheek. He brushed a lock of her hair into place on her pillow. She knew there was great strength in him, but his touch now was tender, gentle.

  "Foolish woman. You would rip the beating heart from my chest."

  The love and devotion in Jorrell's eyes was intense enough to start a fire. But Serwren could not let herself fall into those depths, not yet.

  "Ulli?"

  "Is safe. He's waiting to see you. He's worried. Cael's been teaching him to play cards to keep him occupied."

  Serwren raised an eyebrow in Cael's direction. Cael shrugged with as much innocence as he could muster, which wasn't much. "Your son is a shrewd card player. Far better than his father."

  That Cael should know that Jorrell was Ulli's father did not surprise Serwren.

  "Send for him. Let's see how well you've taught him."

  "You think you can beat us both?" Cael asked, a touch of mockery to his tone.

  "Who do you think he gets his talent from?"

  In answer to Cael's broad grin, Serwren felt a smile of pure freedom grace her face.

  ~o0o~

  Serwren's room was crowded with people. Jorrell and Cael were standing against the wall, arms folded across their massive chests, glowering at her visitors. They were unhappy that such business was being laid before her while she was still recovering. She had only woken up two mornings since. She was beginning to feel strong enough to leave her bed, but every time she voiced the opinion, Jorrell threatened to tie her to it again. She was trying not to waste her developing strength on arguing with him.

  Several consuls, Remmah, Astol, Ellspith, Daleith, Yandew, Orlon and Vaden, the new consul who had replaced Bornsig, were gathered around the foot of her bed, taking up what little space was available in the room between the pieces of furniture. Ulli had been sent to play with Mara in the gardens. He was reluctant to leave his mother now that she was awake, but Serwren had known that whatever business Remmah was bringing to her was not appropriate for such young ears.

  Remmah appeared to have been elected as spokesperson for the group. Serwren did not mind at all that her old mentor perched herself on the edge of her mattress.

  "Serwren. We apologise for disturbing your rest, but the matter is urgent. The Forum is falling apart. Seddrill's place is still vacant, and now the First Father is dead. The country is still on the verge of war. We sent a messenger immediately to Kavrazel to inform him of Erkas' death and to assure him that our army would not march, but h
e is not appeased. He believes Erkas spoke for the country. He believes Felthiss still wishes to invade Vuthron. He intends to defend his lands, proactively if necessary, so Emissary Otal informs us."

  The situation was not entirely unexpected to Serwren, but she failed to see her place in the remedying of it. "And what do want me to do about that? I have no power here."