The Dawn King (The Moon People, Book Five)

by Claudia King

  “Help!” he screeched, summoning his previous hysteria to imbue his words with an edge of terror. “Guards! Help us! Help! He'll kill us!” He kicked over one of the stools so that it banged loudly against the wall, then threw his knife across the chamber. It skittered over the stones with a spattering of red droplets, coming to rest at Liliac's feet.

  Understanding dawned on the shaman's face. He looked at Thakayn in fear, then rage.

  The guards had not yet come. What was taking them so long? To Thakayn's horror, Liliac snatched up the knife and lunged at him.

  “You snake!” he bellowed. “You demon!” The knife slashed out at him, but Thakayn stepped back and ran around the table, forcing Liliac to chase after him. The terror the high priest had been affecting in his voice a moment earlier was suddenly very real. The guards had not come, and Liliac was going to kill him.

  “Help me!” he screeched, running to the far end of the table and around to the other side again. He heard the sound of Liliac's feet slamming against the wood as he mounted the table and ran across it, then leaped on to Thakayn's back from behind. He hit the floor hard, pain bursting from his elbows as they struck against solid stone. He twisted around, trying to get his hands up to block the impending blow as Liliac lifted the knife to stab him.

  Then the tip of a metal blade burst through the front of the shaman's tunic.

  Liliac's surprise lasted no longer than the final few moments of his life. A second guardsman disarmed him with a slash that almost severed his hand. The one who had stabbed him in the back yanked out his blade and slit his throat. Thakayn felt warm blood soaking his face and tunic as it poured out of Liliac's neck. The first warrior hauled the dead shaman aside. The second knelt beside him.

  “High priest! Stay still, we will summon healers.”

  “No,” Thakayn exclaimed, staring frantically into the man's eyes. “They came here to slay the Dawn King. Kill the ones outside first.”

  —33—

  Blood and Blades

  The guardsmen had been leading Caspian and Fern away from the audience chamber when the screams sounded behind them. The pair of warriors froze, an urgent look passing between them, then they turned and dashed back the way they had come as something banged loudly against the wall. More screams and yelling followed, and Caspian felt his wolf rising urgently beneath his skin. He gripped Fern's wrist and turned away, hurrying back toward the steps they had come up to reach this part of the temple. Instinctively he knew that something had gone terribly wrong. All they could do now was try to find Netya and the others before the commotion spread.

  “Our wolves,” Fern said.

  “Not yet. We don't know what's happening.”

  An anxious-looking priest who had stepped out into the passageway frowned in confusion as he heard them speaking in the tongue of the Moon People, but Caspian pushed past him and continued on until they reached the steps. Behind him he heard heavy sandals slapping against the floor. He glanced over his shoulder and saw the two guardsmen running straight toward them. They had their blades drawn, and they were red with blood.

  Realising that there was no chance of them getting past the warriors at the temple entrance, Caspian turned at the steps and ran up instead of down. He pushed Fern ahead of him. She was the nimbler of the two, and she darted forward like a squirrel. His heart was racing. Whatever had happened, the Sun People wanted their blood for it. As he ran up the steps he felt a tug of desperation trying to pull him back down. What about Netya? What about Kale? The thought of fleeing without the others was terrible, but what else could they do? He tried not to think about that. Even a moment's hesitation might be enough for the guards to catch up, then their metal blades would be biting into his ankles.

  Their only choice was to find a window or another entrance. Liliac had made it sound like there were many in the temple, but every wall Caspian looked at was solid and unbroken. They reached the top of the steps and turned right, pushing through a group of people who had emerged from one of the chambers to investigate the commotion. Fearsome though the guards were, they were burlier than they were swift. Caspian and Fern had nothing but their carrying bundle to weigh them down, while the men behind them had to be careful with their blades to avoid injuring the people blocking the passageway. As they ran Caspian tried to look through the drapes covering the doorways to their left and right, but most of them were closed, and he didn't dare duck into a chamber that might turn out to be a dead end. A roar of voices followed them as a dozen or more people all began yelling simultaneously. They reached another set of steps. These ones only led upward, while the hall ahead of them continued on straight. Fern hesitated, unsure of which way to go. They could head up and try to use the twists and turns of the passageways to avoid the guards, but that would make it harder to climb down the hill once they were outside.

  Caspian was about to grab Fern and head upwards when he saw a group of figures standing at the end of the passage ahead of them. Kale and a dark-skinned man had just emerged from one of the chambers, and Adel was at their side. Changing his mind at the last moment, Caspian pushed on forward, but another warrior appeared in front of them and took up a protective stance, drawing his blade at the sight of the two wild-looking figures charging down the passageway. The warrior looked as confused as the people they'd just pushed past, but the yelling was enough to tell him that there was trouble. Caspian's eyes met Adel's as the man came between them. Shocked though she was, her expression held a look that sobered him momentarily.

  Don't be a fool, it seemed to say. Please, don't be a fool for our sake.

  Reaching for Fern's arm, Caspian pulled her back and turned around, making for the steps again. The guards behind them had almost caught up, their blades held ready to swing as they closed the distance. Caspian vaulted the first few steps in one leap, and he felt the back of his woolen gown flick against his legs as the tip of the first guard's blade caught it. He needed his wolf, but their pursuers were too close now. The shift might trip him mid-sprint, then they would be upon him before he could turn the beast's strength to his advantage. Fern had gotten ahead of him again, and she turned right at the top of the steps and disappeared down another hall. Caspian followed. There was a chink of light up ahead. A window! He pushed his body as hard as he could, racing toward the opening with the intent to hurl himself through it after Fern. Yet he hadn't realised how small it was. With a feeling of dread, he forced himself to slow as he saw Fern mount the gap in the stonework and try to squeeze her body through. The narrow vertical slit was just barely large enough for her, but he would never make it through in time. Fern hesitated and looked back at him in desperation.

  “Just go!” he yelled. There were no other chambers to duck into. He was pinned between Fern and the guards now. Even if the window had been larger, there wouldn't have been time for them both to squeeze out. All he could do now was try to hold them back while she escaped. Calling to his wolf, he slid to a halt and turned to face the armed men.

  A knee struck him below the sternum before he could change shape, sending a shock of pain through his chest. The first guard had charged headlong into him, and now they were both falling to the ground. The back of Caspian's head hit the stone floor with a crack. Colours throbbed before his eyes like the ghost of a bright flame, but he managed to hold on to his consciousness. He heard the guard huff in pain. The fall must have hurt him too. A frantic struggle ensued as Caspian grabbed for the man's hand, seizing his wrist so that he could not swing his blade. The pair of them rolled over, the sharp metal scraping against Caspian's forearm, but he held on tight. The other warrior was somewhere behind them, unable to get past his companion to attack. Caspian managed to get a knee against the floor and hauled himself half way upright, ignoring the burst of pain in his own knuckles as he slammed the man's hand against the wall. He didn't drop the blade. The other one was coming around now, looking for an opening to swing at Caspian's exposed back. The yelling behind them had faded. Now there was onl
y the strained huffing of three men locked in a fight for their lives.

  Caspian managed to twist around so that he was facing both of them again, but the man he was holding lunged forward and slammed his forehead into Caspian's nose. He lost his grip, tripping and falling over as he staggered backward. The pair of them advanced on him side by side, wary of his strength now. Again he tried to call upon his wolf, but his head was still pounding and he could not focus. He'd only dragged the beast half way to the surface before the warriors were upon him again.

  “Wait,” a voice called from the end of the passageway. The guards only partially heeded the order. One of them grabbed a handful of Caspian's hair and yanked his head back, pressing his blade to the back of his neck. The other did the same in the front, but just as Caspian was sure they were about to slit his throat, they paused. Staggered footsteps approached from the end of the passageway, and the voice of the high priest Thakayn sounded again from behind them.

  “Tell me who the woman is and where she went, or you'll die slowly.”

  Caspian said nothing, focusing all of his strength on wrenching his wolf up through the throbbing pain in his skull.

  “Tell me!” Thakayn yelled. “I'll burn out your eyes and send you to the spirit world cursed. You'll walk blind to your ancestors for all eternity!”

  The Dawn King's guards were more skilled than the men at Beron's house had been. As soon as Caspian's body started to move they began to cut with their blades, but even they had not been expecting an enormous wolf to burst through their captive's skin. Pain stabbed through Caspian's scruff as the sharp metal chewed into his fur, cutting into him at the back and side of his neck. He leaped forward with all of his strength, tearing free of the guards and twisting back around to face them. The ties of his carrying bundle snapped, spilling out the map and waterskins on the floor. He was bleeding, but the blood wasn't squirting from his neck the way it would have been if the wounds were mortal. Despite their obvious shock, the warriors were ready to face him again, while Thakayn was staring past them in stunned awe. The high priest's face and chest were soaked with blood, as if he'd either just killed a man or taken a deadly wound of his own.

  Caspian lunged, slamming into one guard with the full weight of his wolf's body and knocking him flat. The other took a swing. The blade scraped the fur on Caspian's back, but it did not find flesh. Thakayn was next. For a moment Caspian wanted to leap on him and tear out his throat, putting an end to the man responsible for all their hardships. Yet if he did that the warriors would have time to attack him again. Snarling in anger, Caspian charged past the high priest, who threw himself out of the way at the last moment. A tang of terrified sweat-scent lingered in the air where Thakayn had stood. That would be a scent to remember.

  Despite the slippery-smooth stones beneath his paws, Caspian's wolf was too swift for the men to chase. Running back past the steps, he swept down the hall opposite toward another source of light at the far end. This window was not much wider than the first one, but some of the stones on one side were jutting out unevenly. Reverting from the shape of his wolf at the last moment, Caspian slammed his palms into the protruding stones and felt them shift. The clay filling between them cracked, then the entire right side of the window began falling in upon itself. For a moment Caspian feared the entire passageway might collapse. He shielded his head as stones tumbled to the floor in a clattering of clay dust, then threw caution to the wind and hauled himself through the window before the wooden beam above it could snap. A chunk of rock thudded against his calf painfully, then he was out and rolling down a steep grassy slope.

  His heart leaped into his throat as he saw the plains stretching out a dizzying distance below him, high enough to shatter every bone in his body. At any moment he might roll over an outcropping that sent him falling to his death. He swung a leg out horizontally from his body and caught himself before he hit an uncontrollable tumble, but the slope beneath him was so steep that he could not stop. He slid down a dusty gulley on his back, feeling pebbles scraping his skin raw as he grabbed frantically at tufts of grass on either side. They whipped through his fingers before he could get a grip until a protruding root slapped against his hand. Gripping as hard as he could, he felt his palm burn as he tore a small shrub half way out of the hillside and finally came to a stop.

  Caspian gasped for breath, putting a shaking hand to his neck and finding it covered in dust and blood. He didn't think he was dying, but the guards would use bows to finish what they had started if they spotted him from the window. Trying not to think about what might have happened to Kale, Fern, and the others, he reached for a handful of grass and began lowering himself as swiftly as he could down the hillside.

  —34—

  The Eye of the Storm

  Adel had prepared herself for trouble the moment Kale stepped into her domicile. The boy's arrival had taken her by surprise, and the news of Caspian and Fern doubly so. Immediately she knew that Atalyn had to be told the truth. The sudden arrival of more Moon People in his temple would unsettle the Dawn King, and she did not want to strain their tenuous friendship by allowing the treacherous Liliac to expose them first.

  The first thing she did was to find Jarek, who in turn sent servants to fetch Netya and Kiren. As soon as they left their chamber, the temple descended into chaos. They heard yelling voices and the sound of sandals slapping against the floorstones. Jarek stepped in front of them, and when Adel looked past him she saw Caspian and Fern running their way. A chill swept through her. Caspian caught sight of her, but one of Atalyn's warriors appeared between them and drew his blade. Adel's eyes widened. She felt her mouth opening so that she could yell at Caspian to turn back, but she stopped herself at the last moment. The passageway was packed with people. She couldn't risk giving herself away to them, not when Caspian and Fern appeared to be in the midst of what might very soon become a fight that exposed their wolves. What in the spirits' name had happened? Those two were too clever to have started this commotion. She couldn't believe they'd made their way here only to try and drag her home by force.

  To her relief Caspian caught Fern's arm and pulled her back, and they disappeared up a set of steps with a pair of guardsmen on their heels.

  Kale groaned beside her, clearly as dismayed as she was. “Oh no, oh no.”

  “What did your friends do?” Jarek said incredulously as a blood-soaked Thakayn shoved his way through the crowd and hurried up the steps after the warriors.

  “Everyone to the feasting hall!” An authoritative voice called from somewhere at the other end of the passage. “Blood has been spilled. No one is to leave, by command of the priest of the Sister!”

  “You must go, quickly,” Adel whispered to Kale. “Before anyone remembers you came here with them.”

  “But what about you? What about Kiren?”

  “Hold a moment,” Jarek said. “You'll be safe with me. We should find out what's happened first.” He took the lead, making an effort to shepherd the other people in the passageway ahead of him as he went, but Adel could tell by his hastiness that he was nervous. Caspian and Fern had been with the Dawn King. Though he hadn't said it in so many words, it was obvious that Jarek regarded the old man as something of a father figure. He was probably the closest thing to family he had in this land. Adel felt her heart going out to him, and for a moment she wanted to hold him in her arms and tell him that he should not worry, that she would be there for him no matter what. But the thought hurt too much. She pulled those feelings back inside her and swallowed them down, pushing them to the pit of her stomach. Her eyes were watering, and she realised she'd been biting her tongue.

  Specks of blood covered the steps down, some of which had been smeared into red streaks by the passing sandals. Was this all Thakayn's blood? Despite his gruesome appearance he'd been running as if he was barely injured at all. At the foot of the steps a busy knot of priests and warriors had gathered. Radeen-Na towered over most of them, barking commands as he sent his men to sea
rch the temple, block the entrances, and usher everyone into the feasting hall. When he caught sight of them he pushed forward and grabbed Adel by the arm. His face was set in an expression of disciplined firmness, but beneath it she could sense an undercurrent of fury.

  “We need your healing hands,” he said. “Come to the audience chamber immediately.”

  Realising that she had no choice in the matter, she allowed him to drag her down the passageway toward one of Atalyn's meeting rooms. There were bloody footprints on the stones outside. She glanced behind her and saw that Jarek was following, but Kale had shrunk back into a corner with his hood over his face. She hoped no one would notice him in the commotion.

  The inside of the audience chamber was tangy with the copper scent of blood. Thick pools of it were seeping across the stones, filling up the cracks between them like tiny irrigation ditches. To Adel's right she saw a man lying face-down with a mangled hand and a deep wound in his back. From his braided red hair she could tell that it was Liliac. Farther into the room, on the opposite side of the table, a group of priests were clustered around another small lake of blood. One of them who had been on his knees stood up as Radeen-Na approached, looked to Adel, and gave a grief-stricken shake of his head.

  “There is nothing to be done, High Priest.”

  “They said that for the last man she healed!” Radeen-Na replied. “Seeress, do what you can for him.” He let go of Adel's arm and pointed over the table. The group of priests parted to reveal Atalyn's body, eyes wide, skin pale. She could tell at a glance that the gash in his throat had killed him.

  At first she could only stand and stare, thinking of all of her conversations with the Dawn King, all the patience and understanding he had shown her. Regardless of anything else, he had been a man with the foresight to see a future in which their two peoples might be at peace. As she looked at his body, Adel realised that that future had just fallen to pieces.