The Sunset Lands Beyond (The Complete Series, Books 1-3): An epic portal fantasy boxed set

by Sarah Ashwood

  Perched on the edge of this charming pool was a tiny cottage. With a sinking thatched roof and decaying shutters, the little house looked old and forlorn. Still, I knew it couldn’t be completely abandoned, because a thin stream of grey smoke curled up from the crumbling chimney, revealing life inside.

  What is this place? I wondered, fascinated. Do the Simathe know about it?

  To Break a Prophecy

  Climbing carefully down the bluff, I made my way across the valley floor, headed for the little cottage. In retrospect, I can see going to investigate this place on my own, where anything could have been waiting, was either a really gutsy or a really stupid move. My only defense is that I instinctively trusted the Simathe so much that I felt there was no way they wouldn’t know about somebody living in their mountains…which must mean the person inside was okay.

  Besides, after my chance meeting with Aureeyah, I guess I was hoping to run into another friendly face. I was so lonely for companionship, preferably female companionship, that I didn’t stop to ponder all the ins and outs of my decision. I did hesitate before trying the door. My last chance to turn back. I didn’t take it.

  Instead, raising a fist, I knocked.

  “Hello? Anyone home?”

  Silence answered my call.

  That’s strange, I thought, but tried again.

  “Hello? Hey, anybody there?”

  Still nothing. Disappointed, I was about to turn away…when an inside floorboard creaked and the door swung open.

  The occupant was tall and ridiculously slender, dressed in a faded brown tunic that bagged over grey leggings. He wore no belt, no shoes. A red cloth, smeared with grime, was tied about his neck, looking like a splash of blood against the pallor of his throat. Stringy grey hair fell past his waist in unwashed, greasy clumps. His lips were sickly purple; his skin shockingly pale. And his eyes, oh his eyes…

  My heart stopped, and I slunk a step backward. In a crazy reversal of consuming black Simathe eyes, his were white—sheer white, with no pupils, irises, or any traces of color. Deep shadows below framed the milky orbs. I was captivated, powerless to look away from his face. His cold, lash-less eyes had taken me prisoner, holding me as stationary as a frozen corpse. My mouth dropped open. I wanted to scream, but couldn’t manage a squeak. The smell of decay filled my nostrils.

  A cruel smirk twisted those swollen purple lips.

  “Ah, Lady Hannah. What a pleasant surprise. To what do I owe the honor of this visit?”

  A small cry escaped. That voice, I know that voice! And that stench, as well. Memory hit hard.

  “Jonase!”

  It had to be him. Just like the first time, a numbing blanket of cold was overpowering me. He smiled at my obvious horror, but there was no warmth in the gesture. Everything about this man, this thing, was icy, wintry cold.

  “The Lady Artan,” he purred. “Dare I hope you are alone? That your accursed Simathe keepers are nowhere nearby?”

  I couldn’t think! I wanted to stammer, “Of course they are,” but I was so cold. So numb. I couldn’t speak.

  He slid a deliberate glance over my body, his white eyes lingering on places they shouldn’t. “Never mind. I can see they are not.”

  His gaze lifted. Drifting a step forward, he reached out to trail an ice-cold finger down my cheek and the side of my neck. I was spellbound, unable to resist.

  “So beautiful,” he breathed. “So unlike the women of this land, in both appearance and demeanor. So,” his white eyes narrowed lustfully, “so pure.”

  Stop him! my mind screamed. But I had no will to resist.

  His thumb glided across the hollow of my throat. “Once before, in the palace of Laytrii, I asked you to join us. You refused me then. Will you change your answer now?”

  “I—I…”

  The thumb stilled. “Yes?” His rheumy white eyes were staring, boring a fiery hole straight through my heart.

  I shook my head jerkily. “N—no. I can’t. I won’t!”

  “I thought as much. A pity, my lady. You will either join of your own accord, or you will be made to do so. Against your will, should that be required…though I confess it is what I prefer.” He grinned nastily.

  “Wh—what do you mean?”

  My tongue was unresponsive, numb with cold. I could hardly speak, but my heart, before motionless, now beat double-time, pumping blood through my veins and thawing my brain. When it told my legs to step away from him, they obeyed. The creature’s hand dropped, but he matched every step I took, maintaining a close distance.

  “Surely you know the prophecy of the Artan.”

  Before I could deny that puzzling statement, he pressed on. “She is not of Aerisia, and yet…she is. Furthermore,” a significant pause, pregnant with bitter intent, “she is unknown to man.”

  That last statement, along with the flame leaping to those white eyes, shot a flare of panic along my nerves.

  “So?” I choked out.

  “So, if you are the Artan—as you undoubtedly are, else the Simathe would not keep you in their midst—you must fulfill this portion of the prophecy. You must be a virgin, one untouched by man.”

  Lying wouldn’t have made any difference. Even if I’d been able to form a denial, it wouldn’t have dissuaded this beast.

  “It occurs to me, Lady Hannah,” he continued in a mockingly seductive tone, “no virgin, no Artan. Wouldn’t you agree?”

  “I have n—no idea,” I stammered, continuing to back away.

  “Ah, but I do. I am confident of it.” His colorless eyes raked my body, making me feel undressed, exposed. “Moreover, my lady, it also occurs to me that if I break the prophecy now…” He raised wispy eyebrows in triumph. “All of our worries would be quite over and done with.”

  My head was shaking back and forth. “No,” I whispered, horrified to the core of my being. “Never, you keep away from me!” Faster and faster I backed away, the heat of panic thawing that numbing combination of evil, the stench of decay, and fear. “No, never, no!”

  My heel caught on a rock, landing me on the ground. A white hand grabbed for me, but I kicked it away with a scream.

  “Get away from me, you animal. Leave me alone!”

  Primal instinct surged through my body. It was fight or flight. I leapt to my feet. Whirling, I ran, seeking the shelter of the trees. But what ought to have been a haven my angst changed into a nightmare. Lean branches, bony skeleton arms, slapped my face. Jagged thorns, witches’ fingernails, shredded my clothing and hair. Vines wrapped themselves around my feet and knees, merciless monsters trying to drag me down. A sharp twig, an imp’s claw, left a bloody gash on my forearm. Over a protruding root, a dark wizard’s knobby staff, I tripped and fell. Crawling a few paces, sobbing, I used a tree to pull myself up, continuing this mad dash to safety.

  Behind me, around me, in front of me, within me, I heard his voice calling my name. “Hannah,” he gloated. “Lady Hannah, Aerisia’s Artan. Come to me. Join me, my love.”

  “No!” I cried, whirling to see if Jonase were following me. Although I saw nothing but dense foliage, the voice was still there—mocking me, mocking my fear.

  “Hannah, Hannah, come to me. You will be mine—you are mine. Come to me, beloved. Come, come…”

  “Noooo…”

  Bile rose in my throat, bitter on my tongue. Tears seared my vision. “Leave me alone!”

  Insane with fear, my every thought bent on flight, I was only vaguely aware of the unnatural frigidity of my fingers and toes, of the odor of decay which, even as I ran, made me want to vomit.

  “Hannah…Hannah…”

  Why wouldn’t he leave me alone? He was like a demon from the pit. He filled my head with his moans, his whispers of what he would do to me once he caught me. Chill after chill snaked my spine.

  “Hannah, beloved, come to me. Join me…”

  Finally, I broke free of the tangled undergrowth, stumbling from the brushwood and onto a faint path. The instant my feet touched it, I was
running with all the strength left in my weakening body. I fought for speed, fought to outrun the voice, fought to escape. However, the further I got down the trail, the stronger that floating voice and stench of decay grew. Was I going crazy? I’d left Jonase behind, hadn’t I?

  I rounded a bend in the path, sobbing from fear and fright, stumbling with fatigue. My lungs burned, but I couldn’t stop now. Not much further, and I’d be within shouting distance of Treygon. Maybe.

  Just a little longer, Hannah. Keep going. You can do this.

  Yes, I could do it. If I could make it down the mountainside, get within earshot of the fortress and its warriors whose solid protection I’d spurned, they would save me. Oh, what I wouldn’t give now for Ilgard, for Norband, for Cole, for any of them. For my bow and arrow, for any kind of weapon, for—

  “No!” I gasped, jerking a stop, my skirts coiling about my ankles.

  There he was, standing in the middle of the path, blocking my escape. The wind teased his scraggly hair and shapeless clothing. His purple lips split wide as he laughed, displaying black gums and rotting, broken teeth.

  “No!”

  I tried to flee, but my skirts tripped me. I went down on my knees, my strength utterly spent. He was on me in a second. Even as I wanted to die, I couldn’t help but acknowledge the truth.

  He had won.

  “No, stop!” I wept, flailing my arms wildly as he tried to pin me down.

  “Fear not, my lady.” Flecks of spittle dotted his mouth, and his white eyes glowed with triumph. “This will not take long.”

  With one shove he thrust away my outstretched hands and pinned me against the sparse grass. One hand tore feverishly at my bodice while the other clenched my chin in an iron grip. Putrid, frozen lips mashed mine. I couldn’t breathe under the weight of his body, the rotten odor of his person. I twisted, lashing out with hands and feet, trying desperately to free myself. But I was sick from his stench, and he was much stronger than his frail presence betrayed. In the back of my mind I was pleading for help, crying out to the Simathe High-Chief, even though I knew I was beyond any aid. Even his.

  Sometimes life throws surprises. Real, honest-to-goodness surprises, delivering innocent people from a fate to which they’ve resigned themselves. At least, that’s what happened to me.

  Mere seconds had passed since that hideous mouth crushed mine, although it felt like a thousand lifetimes and deaths to me. And then I felt a horrific convulsion of the body pinning me down. That hideous face lifted, its horrible white eyes staring sightlessly into mine. Horrorstricken, I saw blood beginning to seep from the corners of those purple lips and trickle slowly downward. A drop splashed onto my face, hot and sticky. His eyes glazed over as the drop fell, closed, and rolled back in his head. The weight pinning me toppled, rolling off to lie tranquil in the grass beside me.

  My head lolled sideways, following the motion of his body. I could not tear my gaze from that pale, white face so near my own. Could not, that is, until a strong hand touched my cheek. Calloused fingers, a warrior’s hand, closed about my chin, drawing my face away from the carnage. I looked up into unfathomably deep black eyes.

  Ilgard.

  He had come.

  Protector

  Forgetting all friction between us, he reached down and lifted me off the grass, gathering me close. Had he sensed how badly I needed him to do that? He was my salvation and I clutched him like a lifeline, tangling my fingers in the leather ties of his jerkin. I wanted to weep, but tears wouldn’t come. I wanted to speak, but my tongue was mute. Maybe I was in shock. Tremors wracked my body from head to toe as he simply held me, saying nothing, letting the storm ride itself out.

  Footsteps. More people approached, but I didn’t bother to look. I could do nothing except cling to the Simathe High-Chief, something even a day ago I could never have seen myself doing. I’d forgotten we’d ever been at odds. I’d forgotten how he sometimes intimidated and often irritated me. I purposefully forgot everything except the strength of his arms, the security of his body, the outdoorsy scent of his clothing—calming, reassuring. I clung to him, digging my fingers into his flesh, expelling my terror, giving it to him.

  After several long, agonizing minutes, the tremors began slacking off as the safety of his embrace overcame my terror. His felt them stop and got to his feet, pulling me to mine. Listless, I sagged against him, having no strength to move.

  More Simathe hung back, watching us, either not knowing what to do or else not wanting to intrude. Among them I recognized Lord Norband, Cole, and the guard I’d tricked in the hall. To my surprise, the fairy Aureeyah was also there, deep concern marring her delicate features.

  “Oh Hannah…” When our eyes met, she darted forward, placing a soft hand on my arm. “Are you well?”

  I nodded weakly, my cheek rubbing against the Simathe’s leather jerkin.

  “High-Chief?” She peered up at him as if seeking a second opinion.

  Studying my upturned face, he replied, “We’d best return her to Treygon. Fetch my horse,” he added, sending one of the nearby warriors scurrying to obey.

  Realizing now might be a good time to pull away, I shifted in his arms. One glance down at the front of my gown and a cry of dismay escaped my lips. Jonase had done his work. Nothing more than a few shreds of fabric protected my upper body from total exposure. The sight was enough to tear me to pieces, reminding me starkly of what had almost happened.

  Reading the panic in my eyes, and probably my mind, the Simathe lord quickly stripped off his cloak. Swinging it about my shoulders, he wrapped me up tight, pulling me close and hoisting me into his arms. I didn’t bother to protest; didn’t want to. All I wanted at that moment was him and him alone. Maybe it was that clingy effect of the Joining. Maybe it was simply a survival mechanism. I just knew I wasn’t letting him out of my sight.

  Thankfully, he seemed to feel the same. He carried me without a word to where one of his men, having fetched his huge warhorse, was turning it about on the narrow mountain trail, facing the descent toward Treygon. Along the way, I sorted through the people gathered around us and met Cole’s frank, worried stare.

  Uh oh.

  I’d selfishly exploited both him and our tenuous friendship for my own ends, and now his alien Simathe eyes were openly alarmed. For me. Boy, did that make me feel low.

  Freeing a hand from the folds of Ilgard’s cloak, I offered it to him, calling his name.

  “Cole?”

  He stepped forward and took it, squeezing my fingers so hard I feared they might break.

  “Cole, I’m so sorry. I shouldn’t have—”

  “Enough, my lady,” he cut in. Worry, self-criminalization, relief. These laced his tone, which, for a Simathe, was making his feelings pretty plain. “Next time, wait for me,” he said gently, cupping my palm between both of his. “I would never let harm befall you.”

  I had to strangle a sob. Dismayed, humiliated, I turned my face into the High-Chief’s shoulder to hide my shame. No, I could’ve told you so. Or, You stupid idiot! What were you thinking? Not from Cole. He was far too kind to make me feel like this was my fault—even though, since I’d been the one to leave Treygon, I guess it sort of was.

  When I felt him tuck my hand back inside the cloak, I turned to look at him. “I’m so sorry,” I choked out again. He simply smiled sadly and stepped back.

  Ilgard’s arms shifted as he repositioned his hold, prompting me to glance up into his face. He wasn’t smiling. He didn’t look worried. He looked grim. Unhappily, I wondered if he now hated me as much as I hated myself.

  “Norband.” At his lord’s call, the man was quick to approach. “Take her,” said the High-Chief, and transferred me into his second’s arms.

  For a split-second, I felt a wave of terror. Was he leaving me? Why, why now? As much as I hated being a coward, I knew I wasn’t ready to face the consequences of my actions alone.

  He wasn’t leaving, though. He’d only handed me off so he could mount his huge
warhorse. Once, I understood that, I calmed. When the Chief Captain brought me over to lift me up on the animal, I even turned my head to catch a glimpse of the creature that had accosted me.

  Lord Norband firmly pushed my face into his shoulder. “Don’t look, my lady. There is no need.”

  No need, perhaps, yet I wanted to know. I did peek when I was being lifted onto the Simathe’s horse but turned swiftly from the ghastly sight. I should’ve known better than to disobey the Chief Captain.

  Once settled on Ilgard’s horse, I buried my face in his chest, fighting down the nausea. He said nothing but got the horse moving at a careful pace, clasping me with one arm while guiding the animal with his free hand. During that silent ride down the mountain, I continued to shake, unable to erase mental images of Jonase’s violent attack or his terrible death.

  The creature had lain there on his stomach, a wicked, three-pronged weapon like an ornate pitchfork protruding from his back. Already, congealing blood soaked both the corpse and the grass surrounding it. More trickled from his mouth, pooling on the ground beside his white face. The fingers of one pale hand had clenched a clump of bloody grass in a death grip.

  Even though I was safe now, I knew both that picture and today’s failed rape attempt would haunt me for years to come.

  Stooping, Lord Ilgard placed me carefully on the bed. I saw a frown slide across his stern features, disappearing in the blink of an eye. Dipping his thumb in a nearby cup, he used the water to scrub something off my cheek.

  “What is it?” I asked softly.

  “Blood,” he replied, turning aside.

  I shuddered, remembering the sticky drop that had fallen from Jonase’s lips.

  “Ilgard?”

  “Aye, lass?”

  He was prepared to leave, a hand already on the doorknob, but at my call stopped and looked back.

  “H—how did you know to come?”