From behind her came the sound of Xahnu’s laughter as he played with his nurses, and a soft lullaby for Xu. And from barely a pace behind her, she heard Murohshei’s even breathing, a balm to her tumbling thoughts. She focused on a blossom a bow-length from the marble edge, and watched the delicate flower sway as the breeze abandoned her and danced across the pool.
It surprised her that what she contemplated bothered her so much. She’d thought she hated Xiane. To her surprise, at some point that had changed. She despised him most of the time, yes; truly hated him—no. Not anymore.
He was a bumbling, inconsiderate oaf, but he meant well. He’d proven it in such a way that Shei-Luin blessed him for it.
If Xiane had not let him escape, Yesuin would have died when his brother broke the treaty. And though Xiane’s position saved him from taking Yesuin’s place in death, it was still a risk.
And that was why she found this hard, may the Phoenix help her. She knew well it was only because of Xiane’s affection for his hostage-friend that Yesuin still lived. For angry as she’d been with Yesuin, she’d never wanted him dead. Never that. Though she would never see him again, the knowledge that he was alive and free gave her comfort, gave her the strength to accept the gilded bars of the cage she lived in.
But despite all he’d done for Yesuin, Xiane was a threat to her sons. She listened once more to Xahnu’s bubbling laugh; to think of that beloved voice stilled before its time …
She would do what she had to do, as she had always done. Thank the Phoenix that it need not be irrevocable. She could set the stage, but need not perform the play if Xiane saw sense.
“Murohshei,” she said softly, not turning her head.
“Yes, Favored One?” the eunuch answered, keeping to his position one pace behind her shoulder. If anyone watched from the palace, they would not be seen with their heads together, plotting.
“Have you thought about what I told you the emperor is considering?”
“Yes, my lady.”
“And considered my fears of what it would mean for my sons?” The words came hard. Did speaking them give them power?
“Yes. And I fear that you have the right of it.” The eunuch’s voice was soft and worried. “For when I was a boy in the palace, long before you came, I listened many times to the young lords’ tutors as they lectured on the history of Jehanglan. Such killings have happened many times in the past. It would happen again.”
A coldness filled Shei-Luin. Though Murohshei was certainly no Oracle, his words had the ring of a true foreseeing. Why couldn’t Xiane understand? Could anyone truly be so naive?
If anyone could, it would be Xiane, she thought wearily.
“I can’t allow Xiane to abdicate,” she said. “If I can convince him otherwise, all will be well, life will continue as it has, and one day Xahnu will inherit the throne.
“If Xiane will not see reason, then I have no choice but to take the throne as regent.” She paused; she had never said the next words aloud. With them she placed her life in Murohshei’s hands. If he chose to betray her, she would die a long and agonizing death.
Taking a deep breath she finished, “Which means that Xiane must die.”
The breeze strengthened, tugging at the sleeves of her heavy robes, rippling the water of the lotus garden, setting the white flowers bobbing. Murohshei waited at her shoulder. He said no word of reproach, nor called for the guards.
Instead he said quietly, “I understand, Beloved of the Phoenix. What do you need of me?”
Relieved, Shei-Luin said, “You must send word to Zyuzin’s family.” Then, unable to keep still any longer, she set off along the white marble edge of the pond. Murohshei followed like a shadow. As she walked, she told him what must be done.
When she finished, she added with a fervor that suprised her, “Let us hope it will not be needed.”
“May the Phoenix hear your wish, my lady.”
As he waited with the others for Raven and Taren, words slammed into Linden’s mind with the force of mountain falling. *Thee are the ones he spoke of—I feared so! Run! Run!* With them came fear and images of the Dragonlords dragged off in chains to suffer for eternity.
He reeled under the onslaught; shaking his head to clear it, he looked to his fellow Dragonlords and knew they’d experienced it as well. They looked stunned. Only Otter was untouched.
That was a dragon, Linden’s mind faltered as he instinctively looked for Taren to explain this; supposedly all the Jehangli dragons were dead. Even as he wondered whether to believe it, there came a sight that decided him.
Taller than the Jehangli, he caught a glimpse of the man he looked for. But not a Taren as prisoner, no; this Taren wore an air of command and rode at the head of a squad of—
“To the horses!” Linden bellowed. “It’s a trap!” With a curse, he threw himself into the crowd of merchants between them and the Llysanyins, striking out left and right, clearing a path. The other Dragonlords fell in behind him, Otter in the center. He heard the Llysanyins scream in anger as they realized the danger.
So sudden was the attack that panic broke out among the Jehangli. Many threw themselves to the ground, wailing in fright; Linden had no mercy for those either too slow or too foolishly brave to get out of his way.
Guards ran to stop them. Linden ducked under the pike of the first to reach him, picked the man up and hurled him into his fellows. Using the pike as a flail, he battered his way on, none able to stand before his fury. The shrieks and moans of injured and dying men rent the air, doubling when the furious Llysanyins charged into the crowd, laying about them with teeth and hooves in a storm of death. The stench of blood and urine and voided bowels filled the air.
And all the while Linden heard the traitor yelling orders to “Take the creatures alive!” to the soldiers following him.
The guards fell back to regroup; Linden knew what would happen next. They would charge in a mass so thick that the Dragonlords would be overwhelmed and taken. He made ready to take as many as he could down and, remembering the images the unknown mindvoice had sent them, thought it might be best to die here. It would at least be a clean and honest death.
Then the Llysanyins plowed their way to the little group. Linden looked over his shoulder long enough to see Jekkanadar heave Otter onto Nightsong’s saddle, and to make certain that Maurynna was on Boreal. He leaped to Shan’s back; all were mounted now. “Ride!” he ordered and wheeled Shan around.
But Maurynna cried, “Raven!” and turned in the opposite direction at the same instant Taren bellowed, “Get the black-haired girl! She’s the key!”
Linden cursed and tried to go after her, but the soldiers swarmed into the gap she’d made and blocked his way. Gods help him, he’d forgotten the boy, and now Maurynna might have to pay for it. His heart went cold.
She reached Raven the same instant Stormwind and the Two Poor Bastards did. As Raven flung himself into the saddle, Lleld’s mindvoice ordered Split up! Run!
Linden hesitated long enough to be certain Maurynna and Raven broke free. Then he gave Shan his head; as the stallion leapt forward like a battering ram, Linden laid about him with the pike. For one terrible moment he feared he’d waited too long. Hands grabbed at his legs; the butt end of another pike thudded against his ribs, nearly unseating him.
Then he and Shan were free. He cast the pike aside and raced after the others across the rolling plain.
Maurynna clung grimly to the saddle as Boreal cleaved through guards and merchants like a living sword. Behind her, Stormwind neighed a challenge as he followed on Boreal’s tail. All the while she heard Taren’s voice exhorting the soldiers to take her, to take all of them alive.
She wanted to kill him.
Suddenly Boreal was clear; Stormwind raced up alongside, and together they left the camp behind, the Two Poor Bastards following.
As she looked wildly around, trying to see Linden and the others—but especially Linden—Lleld’s mindvoice crackled in her head.
Ride for Mount Kajhenral.
But—She had to know if all was well with Linden; she had to at least say good-bye. Tears forming in her eyes, she reached out for him with her mind.
The force of Lleld’s shout nearly felled her. No! Do not mindspeak Linden! Go-I order you in the name of the Lady.
Never had she heard such steel in Lleld’s voice. She knew why the little Dragonlord forbade her to speak to Linden. But to not have even that much!
Love warred with duty. Duty won.
*Ride north, then west, else thee will ride straight into the fort of Rhampul. *
It was the voice that had warned them. She had no choice but to trust it. Maurynna turned Boreal. “This way,” she called to Raven. “This—” Her voice broke.
She settled down to outrun the soldiers who pursued them.
They had not been riding long when the others crested a low rise and disappeared down the other side. When Linden, lagging a little behind, reached the top, he saw the others waiting down below. Otter was leaning on the high pommel of his saddle, trying to catch his breath. Jekkanadar lay on the ground, ear pressed to the earth, listening.
“I think we’ve lost the soldiers,” Linden reported as he joined them. He ran a hand gingerly along his ribs; none broken—he thought. “We wait here for Maurynna and Raven, then?”
Jekkanadar would not meet his eyes. But Lleld—
Lleld sat up straight as a spear in the saddle. The harsh sun of Jehanglan cast its light on a face grimmer than he had ever seen it.
All at once he was afraid he understood why. “Where is she?” Linden said, his voice fierce and low.
Lleld said, “Gone. I mindspoke Maurynna, ordered her and Raven to leave for Mount Kajhenral.”
He stared down at her, perilously close to wringing her neck. Otter must have read his thoughts in his face, for the bard made to push Nightsong between them.
Lleld stopped him with a wave of her hand; then she crossed her arms across her chest and met Linden’s eyes without flinching.
“How dare you,” Linden said, choking back his fury. The coldness he’d felt when he thought Maurynna might be caught by the soldiers came back tenfold. “Gods damn you, Lleld, couldn’t you give us a chance to say good-bye?”
“There was no time, Linden,” she said.
“You had no right!” Linden yelled, overcome by anger at last.
“I had every right!” Lleld yelled back. “Or did you forget that the Lady made me the leader of this mission? And the mission comes before any of us, or any of our feelings. Nor will you mindspeak her. The gods only know what hornet’s nest we’ve heaved a rock into. Our job is to play decoy and stay just ahead of the soldiers. Now, after a run like that, even Llysanyins need to rest a bit. But be ready to ride at a moment’s notice.”
Linden snarled a curse and dismounted. When Lleld brought him a waterskin and some dried meat, he nearly slapped her hand aside. Instead he glared up at her from his seat on the ground.
“You have to eat, Linden. We don’t know when we’ll get another chance.”
She was right, of course; it was one of the first things a soldier learned. Eat when you could, rest when you could—and do anything else that you could, when you could. He remembered last night and his heart ached. If he’d known … .
So what if Lleld was right? It didn’t help one bit.
Now and again the Dragonlords took turns listening for the thud of hoofbeats in the ground. It came sooner than they expected.
“Mount up,” Jekkanadar said grimly during his turn. “They’re coming.” He jumped up and mounted Hillel once more.
A few moments later they were all in the saddle again. Lleld set her heels to Miki’s sides. At once the little Llysanyin was off again. Jekkanadar and Otter followed, letting the shorter-legged Miki set the pace.
Linden fell in behind. As he rode, he kept looking over his shoulder, even though he knew it was futile. Maurynna would be well on her way by now.
Forty-three
“Maurynna! Maurynna—hold up!”
Maurynna looked back over her shoulder. Stormwind had stopped and Raven was jumping down. “What is it?” she called as Boreal slowed and turned. Fear seized her, for Raven was picking up one of Stormwind’s forefeet.
“Stone, I think,” Raven said. “All of a sudden he stumbled and stopped.”
Stormwind nodded. Raven straightened and dug into a saddlebag. “Well enough, then, boy—we’ll have that out faster than my Uncle Fox can down a mug,” he said as he pulled out a hoofpick. The tension in his voice belied his flippant words. Once more he bent over the foot Stormwind lifted for him, and set to work.
After looking all around like a nervous owl, Maurynna sat and watched as Raven worked.
The moments slid past. “Damn,” he snarled, “the little bugger’s wedged tight.”
Then Maurynna heard the sound she’d been dreading: the chink of armor, a low rumble of men’s voices. Their pursuers were some distance away, but they had lost valuable time. “Raven,” she said, her voice low and tense. “Hurry.”
“I’m trying,” he snapped. Then, “There!” in triumph.
He dropped Stormwind’s foot. The stallion took a careful step or two. Even Maurynna could tell he limped slightly. But the Llysanyin nudged his rider and swung toward him. Raven took the hint and mounted.
“We’ll have to go slowly,” Raven said, and set off.
Maurynna dropped behind, letting Stormwind set the pace. Although the Llysanyin did the best he could, she fretted. Now and again, the breeze brought the sound of the troop following them; once she even thought she recognized Taren’s voice. And each time, the noise was closer.
They rode on slowly. Too slowly; their enemy followed like hounds on the trail of a wounded deer.
At last it happened. As they reached the top of one of the rolling swells of land, a harsh shout went up behind them.
Stormwind broke into a limping run; Boreal came up beside him. On they went, the Llysanyins held to the speed of ordinary horses by the sore hoof.
It was like something from a nightmare. One where, no matter how you tried, you could never move faster than a crawl, while the fiendish thing behind you moved like the wind, and each time you looked over your shoulder, its dripping fangs loomed closer. Maurynna had had nightmares like that, and hated them. Now she lived one.
Another backward glance; she saw Raven do the same. Their pursuers whipped up their horses. It was only a matter of time now.
Raven fumbled at the long dirk hanging from his saddle. “Get away while you can!” he yelled over the sound of pounding hooves. He drew the reins back.
“Stormwind, keep running!” Maurynna ordered, then, “Don’t be stupid—what good is a dirk against swords? You stop, and so do I.”
“You stubborn—” He looked back. “They’re nearly on us! Ride!”
Stormwind did the best he could, but it was, Maurynna knew, futile. Any moment the Jehangli soldiers would have them. She reached for her own dirk. If nothing else, either she would force them to kill her, or she would take her own life.
Just as her hand closed on the hilt, it happened again. A sense of a ribbon of wet, glittering darkness snapped into Maurynna’s mind. With it came a sharp order: *Due west and cross the river!*
She clapped her heels to Boreal’s sides. “We have one last chance!” she cried.
Stormwind matched her pace; Maurynna prayed that the river they sought was not far off. She’d no idea how long the gallant Llysanyin could last. Longer, she hoped, than their pursuers, who were once more dropping behind, judging by their yells of frustration.
It seemed like forever, but she knew it couldn’t have been much more than a mile before they saw the river.
“Now run for it!” Maurynna yelled.
The Llysanyins raced across the flat, open floodplain. Maurynna could hear Stormwind grunt with each stride, but the stallion kept up. Closer, closer came the dark water and its nebulous promise of safety.<
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Then they were plunging into it with a terrific splash. The black water fountained up, soaking them. Maurynna shrieked in surprise; she hadn’t expected it to be so cold. A moment later she felt Boreal swimming strongly beneath her. She clung to the saddle; she was a good swimmer, but she’d no wish to test herself against the current tugging at them.
Still, she nearly jumped out of the saddle when something brushed against her leg. It must have touched Boreal as well, for the stallion neighed in surprise and redoubled his efforts. Nearly sick with fright, Maurynna told herself over and over that sharks did not live in fresh water, that she’d never heard of a freshwater fish large enough to harm a horse and rider, and river weed did not eat meat.
But that was in the north; who knew what lurked in Jehangli waters? She shut her mind to the thought.
At last they were to the other side. The stallions scrambled up the bank with difficulty. They stood a moment, sides heaving, then set off at a trot.
Though what good it would do, Maurynna didn’t know. The land around them was as flat as a table, and they the only beings upon it. They must stand out like two lone chessmen on a board. All too soon the soldiers would cross the river after them.
It came even faster than Maurynna had feared. Yells of triumph told them they had been discovered. Maurynna glanced at Raven.
“Can he run any more?” she asked quietly.
Raven shook his head.
“Then we fight here,” she said, and drew her sailor’s dirk. “I’ll not be sport for them any longer.”
A fierce grin lit Raven’s face. “Just like Bram and Rani, eh?”
Maurynna laughed. “Just so. Though they were better armed.”
They turned the horses to face their enemies. A strange calm took Maurynna. She thought only of how many enemies she could take with her. Her sole regret was that she dared not mindspeak Linden; if he was safe, she’d not be the one to somehow lead the Jehangli priestmages to him.
The first soldiers drove their horses into the water. Soon the whole troop was swimming across. Maurynna imagined she could see the glitter of blood lust in their eyes. Only one figure remained on the shore.
Dragon and Phoenix Page 48
