by Dana Marton
“We go into mortal danger,” I reminded him.
“Lady Tera…” For the first time, the haughty demeanor of the Leader of the Merchant League of Rabeen disappeared, and he was as close to begging as I had ever seen him.
I gave a small nod. “As you wish.”
“Thank you, my lady.” His voice thickened with gratitude and relief.
I glanced over at Koro, who was entertaining Nessa by balancing a tin cup on his nose. Nessa’s eyes were round with wonder, while Ina’s hands fluttered by her side. She was leaning forward, as if ready to grab her daughter back at the slightest sign of danger. But at least she did not attack Koro when he tossed the cup to the girl and Nessa caught it with a surprised squeal. If anything, as Nessa tried to balance the cup on her own nose, Ina’s expression softened, if only for a moment.
Koro’s gaze cut to me. Shall we?
The four of us walked off the ship together, while Boscor and Urdy stayed behind. Urdy sat down next to the chronicle keeper. Boscor shifted away from the assassin, but he did drink his water.
At least fifty of our soldiers guarded the harbor, scanning the night sea. Ina shot them a wary glance as we walked off the ship, then her gaze moved past them, at the city that looked magical with the moon and stars above, and the light of oil lamps flickering in every window. I could only imagine what that meant to her. People, community, protection.
She moved forward hesitantly, toward the lights, Nessa by her side.
Koro was in no rush to leave. His lips curved into a bittersweet smile. “In another life…” He paused, shook his head. “I missed you, Tera.”
“We will free Dahru.” I gave him a quick hug before drawing back. “In the spring, bring Ina and Nessa to Karamur to visit. I think Nessa would like to see the fortress city and the High Lord’s castle.”
Ina’s husband had been a goatherd. I doubted they had been outside of Rabeen before this.
Koro’s gaze turned to the mother and daughter, lingering on Ina. “She is not broken. She has strength in her eyes.”
I grinned. “You should have seen her take on a tiger. You had better watch yourself with her.”
My friend’s expression held nothing save admiration as he looked after the woman for another moment.
We said our farewells, and I watched them go, Nessa in the middle, her little hand firmly in her mother’s. Their close link reminded me of mine with my own mother, Chalee. I’d still had her at that age. Longing filled my heart for her love and wisdom. I had learned much since her death, but still I wished for her advice. Of all the people I had ever known, she had the purest heart.
I wished Ina and Nessa well and asked the spirits to keep them together for a good long time. Just before they disappeared from sight, Nessa gave her free hand to Koro, who took it without pause, as if walking hand in hand with the little girl was the most natural thing in the world.
Anyone walking past them would have mistaken them for a family.
“I am glad the pup gave up on trying to steal you from me,” came Batumar’s raspy voice at my back.
I shook my head, but I was smiling. “Koro is a friend.”
“I saw the truth in his eyes when he rushed down those harbor steps to greet your arrival.” Batumar slipped his arm around my waist and gathered me flush against his chest. “You are mine.”
“Should I embroider the words BELONGS TO LORD BATUMAR onto the bodice of my dress while we sail to Kaharta Reh?”
“That would be best,” he said in all seriousness.
I groaned at his response, but stayed in his embrace, looking toward the city.
“Are you sad to see them go?” the warlord asked. “They will be safe here. From Kaharta Reh, we shall go to Karamur and cut off the head of the snake. The fighting should not return to Shahala lands.”
I filled my lungs with cool night air and put my hands over his. “I was thinking… I would like to have a daughter one day.”
The warlord’s agreement was a deep rumble as he turned me in his arms to face him. His rugged face held undisguised love and need. “Aye.”
A daughter with Batumar’s obsidian eyes.
My breath caught at the image that readily appeared in my mind.
I wanted a daughter to teach as my mother had taught me. Except… My mother had left me too early, with too many lessons untaught.
“When this war is over,” I told the warlord, “I shall write a scroll full of advice for what daughters we might have.”
He searched my gaze. “What kind of advice?”
“Do not go on a long sea voyage with hundreds of men and a possessive warlord will be the first on the list.”
Laughter brought light to Batumar’s face as he lowered his lips toward mine. He gave me a soft kiss at first, then his mood turned in an instant, and I was pressed against his wide chest while he kissed me harder.
“Lady Tera!”
Batumar gave a murderous growl. I very nearly growled with him. But instead I stepped back, searching the harbor for the man who called my name.
A moment passed before I spotted the scrawny beggar elbowing his way through our men. He had the look of a war refugee—clothes threadbare and torn, and none of it clean. Gaunt he was, a man who knew hunger.
Two of our soldiers moved to stop him, but I called to them to let him through, my heart leaping with joy as I recognized him. He did not wear the Guardian’s usual brown robe but the garments of a simple peasant, tan britches with a tan linen shirt, his dark hair longer than I remembered.
I’d met him but once before, in the Forgotten City, when he had interrupted his travels and study of the Gates to be with his mother on her deathbed. We had spent only a short time together, but we had become good friends.
His face lit up with a smile as he broke into a run, opening his arms, losing all the decorum Guardians normally displayed.
As I knew I would be thoroughly and tightly embraced, I warned Batumar, “The young Guardian of the Gate is like a brother to me.”
Humor lit up the warlord’s eyes. “Are you implying, my lady, that I am a jealous beast?”
Relieved that I did not have to worry about Batumar unsheathing his sword, I hurried into the Guardian’s arms and did greet him like a long-lost brother.
“The spirits be praised!” His gaze darted between Batumar and me. “I thought we lost you and the warlord. The darkest rumors—” He bit off the rest. “Yet others said you came south, so I followed, hoping to find you here. When I saw Sheharree occupied…” His expression turned from elation to grief.
“How come you to be on Dahru?” I stepped back. “Last we knew, you were trapped on the mainland.”
“I was traveling across Felep to learn as much as I could about all the working Gates, and even visited a few ruined ones.” The Guardian paused, his shoulders collapsing. “I was in Canvar when I felt the Gate of the World shudder on Dahru.”
“Your father closed it to stop more enemy warriors from reaching our island.”
The Guardian gave a sober nod. “Ours is a powerful Gate. The most powerful of all. The only Gate of the World.”
From the way he said the words, I knew that when he felt Dahru’s Gate tremble closed, he had understood that closing the Gate of the World required great power, more than a mortal man could survive. He had known then that his father had given his life.
I had grieved the old Guardian at the time, and now I grieved him anew. And I grieved for his son, born to duty, his life thus far spent on learning. He’d had few opportunities to truly get to know his father, and now it was too late.
“You must have found it difficult to be trapped on the mainland.” Away from his home, and away from the Gate his duty demanded he should guard.
“Aye.” The single word sounded tight with pain.
“But you found a way to return,” Batumar said in a tone of frank approval.
“Not long after I arrived at Canvar,” the Guardian told us. “Emperor Drakhar’s army took the c
ity. I fought and was struck down. I woke buried beneath the bodies left on the street. In the moonlight, I exchanged my clothes for those of a farmer who lay dead atop me, then I dragged myself to the city wall, hoping to recover enough by morning to flee.”
I smiled at him with all the relief in my heart. “I am glad to see you did.”
“Regaining my strength required a few days, my lady. In the meanwhile, I heard that the emperor had a sorcerer by the name of Drav, who was trying to open Dahru’s Gate of the World using the Gate of Canvar. The sorcerer bound a Guardian from the eastern lands to his will by bending the man’s mind.” The young Guardian shuddered, and I saw fear in his eyes for the first time. “I wanted to stop them. I did not want my father to have died in vain.”
“What happened?” Batumar asked, his tone heavy, as if he already knew the answer.
“I reached them just as they opened Dahru’s Gate of the World,” the Guardian said. “I came through the Gate of Canvar to Dahru with the first wave of mercenaries as one of them, wearing stolen armor. I thought I might yet be able to close our Gate of the World again from our side. I am of the island. This Gate is mine.” He shook his head. “As I tried, the sorcerer felt me and sent his men through to capture me.”
“And then?” I asked with a fearful heart, thinking of what the sorcerer of Ishaf had done to Batumar.
“They pressed me to disclose the whereabouts of the Forgotten City of my people,” the Guardian said at last. “They also demanded that I tell them of any weakness in the defenses of the Kadar’s fortress city of Karamur, so that the Kerghi might breach the walls.”
“Have the Forgotten City and Karamur fallen, then?” Batumar asked, and I held my breath.
“They were both free when I left,” the Guardian responded. “I did not give the enemy what they sought. But the cities might have fallen since I last saw them. The Kerghi hordes were coming through our Gate as fast as they could. And the Kerghi captains were willing to do anything to discover our weaknesses.”
His voice cracked on the word anything.
My heart squeezed. They tortured him.
“Are you in need of healing?”
He shook his head with a half smile. “I was healed by the first healer I met once I reached the Shahala.”
“Has the sorcerer come through the Gate to Dahru? Is he here?” Batumar asked.
“The last I knew, he was still in Canvar.”
“How did you escape his men?”
“The Guardian of the Cave came for me. The enemy held me captive in a small cave near the Gate. Armed guards stood at the opening. I was staring at the back wall, begging the spirits for a way out, when a gap appeared in the stone. The Guardian of the Cave stood in the gap, reached out, and pulled me in. We walked clear through the rock and came out the other side.”
Batumar looked mystified, but I had no doubt it had happened exactly that way. I had seen the Guardian of the Cave open passageways in rock before. I had walked through them myself.
The young Guardian of the Gate smiled again. “The Guardian of the Cave closed the gap behind us. I wager those guards are still wondering how I escaped. I hope they think I turned into a bat and flew right over their heads.”
I smiled with him as he continued. “The Guardian of the Cave said you sailed through the hardstorms. But other rumors said you came to the Shahala. I thought maybe you meant to sail through the hardstorms, could not find a way through, and came here instead, so I headed this way.”
“We did sail through the storms to the mainland,” Batumar told him. “And we brought back an army.”
“So I see, my lord.” The Guardian’s voice filled with wonder. “An army and three fine ships. All good news, and I have some more of my own.” He smiled at me. “What Kadar and Shahala the Kerghi captured have not yet been sent through the Gate of the World. The last I saw them, they were kept in an enclosure on the mountain, near the Gate.”
My heart gave a hard thud. “For how long? How much time do we have to save them?”
“I am not certain, my lady. But if I understood right, the sorcerer’s hold on Dahru’s Gate is not perfect. He is sending troops through from Canvar, and he can only send so many each day. Once he sends enough for Kerghi victory, he will come through himself. Then, from this side, he can send slaves back. He can only control the side of the Gate where he stands.”
“Do you know when he plans on coming?”
“I know the Kerghi wanted to send their captives through in time for the Day of Enit.”
Enit was the god of trade and protector of markets, his day the biggest market day on the mainland. It fell on the same day as the Shahala Harvest Feast. Which was…
My heart raced as I counted. “In a fortnight?”
Too soon. A fortnight could not possibly be enough for us to reach Dahru’s Gate. And once we lost those captured men, women, and children… How would we ever find them again, scattered as they would be across the world, sold as slaves?
Batumar questioned the Guardian some more on all he had seen after coming through Dahru’s Gate, until one of Prince Graho’s guards found us with a message from the prince. The harbor held nothing fast enough to catch the skiff the Kerghi prisoners had taken, but Prince Graho did send a boat after them. Mayhap luck would be with us and our men would catch the escaped Kerghi.
I bade the young Guardian to rest on our ship, then Batumar and I took our leave to confer with Prince Graho and Lord Karnagh, sending word to Tomron to join us. Everything we had to do, we had to do in a hurry. We would sail at first light. We had lost our one advantage, the element of surprise. The less time we gave the enemy to prepare for our arrival, the better.
The fate of all our people depended on the upcoming battles. The islands of the Mirror Sea would be either ours or the Kerghi khan’s. We would be either free or slaves.
Chapter Sixteen
(Kaharta Reh)
By the time Prince Graho told the captain to pull up anchor the following dawn, our damaged sails were replaced and our food stores replenished, all our water barrels filled. I had one more task to accomplish, however.
I strode over to Boscor, laid my hands on him, and sealed his wound, taking his injury into my own body. The Shahala had not come onto the ship, so all this time, he had still been suffering. I had meant to bring a healer to him and Urdy, but our time in Sheharree had gone differently than I had anticipated.
The chronicle keeper gave a sharp gasp at the tingling sensation of the pain leaving him. “My lady…”
Urdy climbed up from below and ambled over, his steps speeding when he saw me stagger momentarily. “Lady Tera…”
I laid my hands on his arms and softened his bones.
He sat on the boards with a heavy thud, staring at me as I knit the ragged edges together, pouring my strength into him even as I drew his suffering. I was strong enough to take it, but with the pain came something dark, something unexpected. By the time I realized this, it had spread through me. Poison.
The heavy sludge in my blood knocked my feet from under me, and I half sat, half collapsed next to Urdy.
The poison he had taken to escape the slow death of being trapped in a well might not have killed the dwarf on Rabeen, but it had stayed in his blood and would have killed him little by little. He had trained himself to be immune—almost, but not entirely. I had no resistance to the toxic brew at all. I could not even discern the ingredients, the cold feel of them unfamiliar.
I had already used most of my healing powers on the sailors’ burns the day before, then on the worst of the injured soldiers in the harbor before the Shahala healers reached us. Now I paid the price.
“My lady?” Urdy’s eyes snapped wide with wonder and horror. Mayhap I was the first Shahala healer he had met. He seemed to only now realize that this was how true Shahala healing worked.
He dropped to his knees in front of me, yanking the splints from his arms, twisting the limbs to test them, then bowing his head to me. “My la
dy, I am not deserving.”
Boscor was by my side. He reached for me, fatherly care in his eyes. “You must rest.”
I had to agree. “For a short while.”
Sailors rushed around, going about their work, oblivious to the fact that—for the moment—I balanced on the edge of death.
Boscor put a hand under my elbow. “My lady, allow us to help you to the prow and find you a quiet spot out of the way.”
The prow would have to do. I could not go below. I did not trust myself on the ladder.
Marga sensed that something was amiss and padded over, sniffing at me. I leaned on her with one aching arm while I pressed the other against the invisible wound in my belly. Boscor and Urdy assisted. When we reached the prow and I lay down, the tiger curled around me, nudging my head with hers until I laid my head on her rib cage. She licked the side of my face with a low rumble, satisfied to have me in her care.
Boscor hurried off for water, and when he brought me the cup, I drank. Then I lay there, trying to catch my breath. The two men sat across from me, watching me with worried expressions.
I coughed. “I need only a little rest.”
Boscor closed his eyes, his lips moving slightly as he began a silent prayer. Marga made a rumbling noise in her chest, almost like a purr, to soothe me.
“My lady…forgive me…” Urdy’s tone was pained and desperate as he stood again and began to pace.
“I shall recover. Tell me what you will do after the war ends.” I needed distraction from the pain.
“Now that I have been through my first sea battle, I do not think I am cut out for piracy,” he said. “But I did like making Nessa laugh. Once the war is over, I might join a traveling circus.” His gaze met mine. “Being blue like this, I do not have many choices. I suppose I could sign on in a mine and spend my days down below in darkness, but I think I prefer the circus.”
His resignation to never being accepted by others hurt my heart, and the whole rest of my body was hurting plenty already. Yet I had to acknowledge that Urdy might well be right. Neither the sailors nor the soldiers had warmed to him so far. None would talk to him save to disparage him.
