The Dawn King (The Moon People, Book Five)

by Claudia King

  The procession parted for Thakayn as he turned to make his way back up the steps, sparing Adel his presence for a few moments. Jarek was already at his side, whispering urgently in what seemed like a futile attempt to make him reconsider. They came to a stop at one of the upper tiers, whereupon the lesser priests and servants were dismissed with various menial instructions. Then Thakayn turned his attention to Adel.

  “Take them to the storage rooms in the stone hall.” He gestured down a darkened passageway. “One in each chamber, two guards at each door.”

  “You expect us to believe you're taking them there to share a meal with you, Thakayn?” Hasham said angrily.

  “I expect you to do as I say,” Thakayn snapped. “Yaon-Ra, see to it, now.”

  The surly guard yanked Adel into the passageway.

  “Stop!” Jarek demanded. “There's no reason for this!”

  “No reason for what, Jarek?” Thakayn said. “Do you wish to accuse me of something?”

  Mountain Sky moved to stand at Thakayn's side. The enormous man towered over everyone else around him. Adel noticed that two other warriors had been standing close to Mountain Sky the entire time. Following their lead, the other guards turned their eyes on Jarek.

  Radeen-Na stepped forward and put an arm in front of Kiren. “Not her,” he said. “She stays with me.” When Thakayn did not respond he added, in a far darker tone, “Don't make me regret my choice, Thakayn.”

  Although most of the warriors seemed to be following Mountain Sky and his men, several of them began looking uncertain when Radeen-Na spoke up. He was still the leader of the warrior caste, after all. Adel wondered, with a dim hope, whether they might follow him instead of Thakayn if he told them to.

  After a moment's consideration Thakayn nodded. “Keep her if you want. I've little use for a girl who can't speak our tongue.”

  Kiren gave Netya a desperate look as Radeen-Na pulled her away.

  Jarek spoke up once again. “I want a priest with each of them instead of guards. Why do you need warriors to watch women?”

  “These are witches, not women,” Thakayn replied calmly, “but I will consider your request.”

  “Then I'm going with them too,” Jarek said.

  Mountain Sky snapped his fingers and his men stepped forward to block Jarek's path. When he tried to push past them they grabbed his arms.

  “Don't make a fool of yourself, boy,” Hasham murmured. “Yours is the only sensible voice left among the conclave.”

  “We shall see,” Thakayn said. “Take Jarek back to his domicile. A new priest of the Sister is required to take my place. Perhaps it is time for new priests of the Father and Son as well.”

  “Adel!” Jarek called out as the warriors pulled him away. The anguish in his voice hurt more than the sharp fingers digging into Adel's arm. The last words she heard before being dragged out of earshot came from Mountain Sky.

  “He has nothing to fear. The seeress and her acolyte will not be harmed.”

  Adel felt a bead of clammy sweat rolling down her spine, for she knew that Mountain Sky was lying.

  —45—

  Torment

  The chamber was hot, humid, and pitch black. The warriors shoved Adel inside so hard that she tripped over and fell forwards. Her chest struck the edge of a rigid object, sending a shock of pain through her body as she felt something crack. Biting back her scream, she wrapped an arm around herself and rolled away from the object, hitting the floorstones with jarring force. She felt as if she had been stabbed in the chest. When she tried to breathe she coughed hard, sending new spasms of pain lancing through her body. She tried to inhale slowly and deeply, struggling against the tingle of panic that threatened to take hold of her as she lay there in the dark. The side of her chest throbbed terribly. Exploring it with her palm, she found one spot where the pain was worse than anywhere else. The crack had come from one of her ribs.

  Trying to ignore the shrill gasping sounds of her own breath, she pushed herself upright and groped for the object she had fallen against. It was a sturdy wooden table. For a long while she knelt there with one hand on the edge of the table and the other wrapped around her chest, breathing hard and willing the pain to go away. When she realised it was not going to, she tried to adjust to it instead. Focusing on something else had always helped her to ignore pain in the past.

  She shuffled around and began crawling back toward the doorway, but the tightness in her chest forced her to stop before she reached it. It hurt when her lungs were too full or too empty. There was no way to put the right amount of pressure on her cracked rib. Closing her eyes, Adel tried to remain calm, but it was a losing battle. She could not run or fight with a wound like this, and without her wolf it would take many days for it to heal. Netya was close by, probably in one of the adjoining chambers, but she was no fighter. Kiren and Jarek might be their only hope now.

  The thought of Netya alone and afraid forced Adel to begin crawling again. Voices murmured outside the room, but they were muffled by something. Her fingertips brushed a piece of solid wood lodged between a gap in the floorstones. A heavy screen, just like the one outside her domicile. Biting her lip through the discomfort, Adel worked herself into a sitting position and pushed. The screen did not move. Either one of the guards was leaning against it on the other side, or they'd used something heavy to keep it in place.

  Gradually, her breathing began to adapt to the pain in her chest. Beads of sweat tickled her brow, dripping from the end of her nose until the stabbing sensation became something akin to an intense, throbbing itch. She let the pain spread through her, willing herself to accept it. Eventually it settled into a consistent burn. Her chest still hurt terribly, but as long as it did not stab and sting she could cope with it.

  Adel had begun to notice a faint draft against her damp skin, which meant there was a gap in the stone walls somewhere. If there had been any windows in the room she would have been able to see the last of the daylight coming in, put perhaps there was a hole somewhere else. No, not a hole—a hearth. The Sun People could not build fires inside their wooden buildings without a stone cradle to carry the smoke and sparks outside. She began groping her way around the edge of the room cautiously. The chamber was large, about the same size as one of the more lavish domiciles, and Adel's progress was painfully slow. All she felt beneath her palms was more dusty stone. It was only then that she realised the hearth would not be on the wall facing into the temple. It had to carry smoke away from the building, after all, and she felt like a fool for not realising that sooner. As she groped her way across the chamber she bumped into a stack of empty baskets and a wooden stool. The stool was tall, big enough that one of the legs might be wrenched off to serve as a cudgel, but she did not think that would do her much good in her current state. Nevertheless she kept the thought at the back of her mind, using it as a distraction from her fear. Every bit of certainty she could hoard was a bulwark against the hopelessness that threatened to ensnare her.

  Mid way along the far wall she came across a lip of raised stone and smelled the scent of an old fire. There was not much ash, for it was unlikely anyone had lit a fire in such a warm room since the winter, but she still had to hold her breath when the disturbed soot threatened to make her cough. Coughing would bring the pain in her chest roaring back to life. Exploring ahead of her with her hands, she ducked beneath the lip of the hearth and crawled into the space beyond. It was narrow, and grew narrower still as it angled upward and sideways through the wall. When the stones began pushing into her arms Adel withdrew and crawled back out. A small woman might have been able to squeeze through the gap, but her shoulders were too broad.

  Once she had shaken the soot from her hair she slumped back against the wall, focusing on her breathing again. It had been too much to hope for such an easy way out, she thought dismally. Thakayn would not have put her here if there was any chance of her escaping. He'd probably been planning her capture for a long time, preparing these chambers specifical
ly for this moment. Whatever he did to her, she had to make sure she kept his attention away from Netya. Perhaps if she could occupy him for long enough then Jarek and Kiren would be able to do something, though what that something might be, she did not know. The wisest thing would be for them to flee before they invoked Thakayn's ire.

  Adel felt her eyes growing hot and painful at the thought of Jarek. There was every chance he might be hurt or killed if he tried to help. He had his wolf, but he'd never been a fighter. How many years had it been since he changed shape? The temple warriors with their blades and bone scales would be a fearsome match for him.

  If only she'd left earlier. Had she been too prideful, too ambitious in believing that she could bring the Sun and Moon People together? Perhaps that was not something the spirits wanted, and this was her punishment for her hubris. She'd always seen the spirits as guides, never beings that ruled over her the way most seers did. What if she had been wrong all this time? All of these years struggling to be better, wiser, more just, more honourable, might have made her reach for things that no mortal woman had any place reaching for. All her life she'd tried to be better than her father, to prove that a leader could be strong without ruling through violence, but maybe violence was all that mattered in the end. She and the people she loved most dearly might die in these stone rooms.

  Adel pulled one of her knees to the uninjured side of her chest, weeping quietly in the darkness. When she had been single-minded in her confidence, she'd made mistakes that hurt people. Now that she was questioning herself, she felt fragile and helpless. Opening her heart to Jarek had made her vulnerable. She'd needed that vulnerability, but it was of no use to her now. Only the cold, hard Adel could fight through this despair. She didn't want to become that person again, yet an intense feeling of guilt had taken hold of her that refused to let go. For many years she had carried the burden of her pack's fate, shouldering their hardships and taking responsibility for their failings, barely thinking of her own needs. Since she opened herself up to Jarek she had been living more for herself than she'd done in years, and she could not shake the feeling that in doing so she had somehow blinded herself to Thakayn's scheming.

  Whether she had angered the spirits, blinded herself with love, or behaved recklessly in her pursuit of peace, she felt that she was to blame for what had happened.

  Eventually the voices outside fell silent, and the darkness around Adel grew oppressive and disorienting. She was used to hearing the whistle of the wind or the crackle of her fire when she was alone at night, but this stone chamber was as silent as the grave. The sun must have gone down by now, and the temple would be preparing for Thakayn's ceremony tomorrow. When would he come for her?

  Despite the pain in her chest, she forced herself to stand and began slowly pacing the length of the wall, guiding herself with one hand on the stones. The sound of her footsteps gave her something to focus on, and if she breathed in time with each stride it helped to lessen the discomfort.

  The waiting was worse than anything Thakayn might do to her. Perhaps he knew that as well, and he was purposefully leaving her alone to soak in her own doubts. He would probably kill them, she thought, once he became convinced that they could not give him what he wanted. Thakayn was not an easily convinced man, however, and he seemed desperate in his pursuit of the youth he believed the Moon People's magic could restore to him. He might keep them here for days before giving up. Adel shuddered at the thought, trying not to dwell on the kinds of torments he might subject them to. Nothing would terrify her more than if she heard Netya's screams coming from the other chamber.

  This is what he wants, she told herself. He wants you to imagine the worst. The terrors in your mind will be far more horrible than anything he can do to you.

  Taking a deep breath, she focused on making her mind go blank. One, she counted. Two. Step. Step. Breathe in, breathe out. Fear was a demon of the mind, a dark magic that everyone carried within them. Controlled, it could be useful, but set wild it brought only ruin. Adel continued to count as she paced, one ten, two tens, three tens. Eventually there were so many tens she ran out of words to describe the numbers she was counting, so she crooked a finger into her palm and began again. After she ran out a second time, she crooked another finger. The mantra calmed her in a way prayer never had, taking her mind into patterns of counting that were fixed and firm. Thirteen steps took her from one end of the room to the other before she had to turn around. Thirteen, thirteen, thirteen. As long as she measured her strides it was always the same, and after a while she did not even need to keep her hand on the wall any more.

  Slowly, gradually, Adel sank into the deep focus that had been her only companion on so many lonely winter nights. In the time after Jarek and before Netya, it was this mindset that had kept her strong. It wasn't a weakness, she realised. The emotionally stifled person she had spent all those years being was not someone she had to distance herself from. It was not a time she had to regret, not if she had managed to learn something from it. The den mother of those years had been powerful, and in times like this she could call upon that power to protect the soft, tender woman who had opened up her heart to Jarek again.

  When voices sounded outside the room her eyes snapped sharply toward the doorway, her mantra broken. Slits of orange light shone through the screen, swinging and flickering with the motion of a torch. Adel touched her cracked rib gingerly and moved closer.

  “You are not to kill her, do you understand?” It was Thakayn.

  “She is a ghost! I don't understand why you want any of them alive.” The second voice belonged to Sayla.

  “I will give you what you desire, never fear, Rat, but first you must have patience for a little while longer. If that woman is your sister then she may tell you things she will not share with anyone else. Hurt her if you must, but do not kill her.”

  After a moment of silence Sayla replied, “Yes, High Priest.”

  “Good. Once I am done with the seeress I expect you to have her ready for me.”

  “You should take more than a knife in there with you. What if she turns into a beast?”

  “I fear no beast. The Sister's power protects me.”

  Thakayn was always so cunning. Just like Adel, he attributed his tricks to the spirits rather than explaining them plainly. Why tell Sayla about the herbs when he could pretend he had divine protection instead? In that way he could make himself seem like more than a mortal man, the same way Adel had crafted her reputation as a fearsome sorceress.

  “Bring the guards now,” Thakayn said. Shortly thereafter something moved outside the room, and the screen slid open.

  A tickle of fear crept up Adel's throat as torchlight spilled into the chamber, blinding her to everything but the glinting tips of two spears pointing in through the doorway. She moved her hand away from her chest, trying not to let her injury show.

  “Step forward, seeress,” Thakayn's voice called in.

  She did as she was told. The spearmen did not look familiar to her, but the surly guard was standing behind them with his blade drawn. There was no sign of Sayla.

  “What lies has he told you to justify what he is doing?” Adel said in a dry voice.

  “Be silent,” Thakayn said.

  Adel continued on, trying to take confidence from her words. “I hope you think about what he means to do to me. Ask yourselves whether an honourable man—” The torchlight seemed to flash bright in her eyes as pain burst through the side of her head. She staggered sideways, reeling from a blow struck by one of the warriors' spear hafts. These were not men of reason, nor compassion. They would do only as their alpha commanded.

  This time when Adel stumbled she managed to put her hand on the edge of the table before she tripped. Her ears rang from the impact of the blow, preventing her from hearing what the men were saying behind her. Then someone was yanking her arms behind her, winding a length of cord tightly around her wrists. She struggled, but found herself pushed forward, and would have slammed he
r cracked rib into the table again had she not turned sideways at the last moment. The impact jarred painfully through her chest, but it was not as bad as it could have been. Adel's hair fell in tangles about her face as the cord pulled tighter until it bit into her wrists. There was no point in struggling any more. She was bound as tightly as she'd been in Liliac's canoe.

  “Put her by the hearth, on that stool,” Thakayn said.

  She heard a wooden scraping sound in the darkness, then another source of light flooded the chamber as one of the warriors touched his torch to a bundle of fresh tinder. Soon a fire was blazing in the hearth. One of the spearmen picked Adel up and walked her to the stool next to it. With a sense of dread she noticed they had brought in a stack of logs to keep the fire burning all night. Thakayn was prepared to spend a long time in here with her.

  “Leave us now,” Thakayn said, “and keep the screen closed.”

  “Are you sure, Dawn King?”

  “She can do nothing to me while she is bound.”

  The men did as he said, leaving Adel and Thakayn alone together in the dim light of the fire. She refused to look at him, staring into the flames and feeling their heat against her face. The chamber was growing unbearably hot. For a while Thakayn did not say anything, then he moved to stand in front of her.

  “You could leave this temple alive, Adel. I might even allow Jarek to go with you. There's no place for a man like him in my conclave.” He waited for a response that she refused to give. When she said nothing, he hit her. It wasn't as bad as the blow from the guard's spear. Adel saw it coming and turned her head to the side, moving with the momentum of his fist to take the sting out of the impact. She'd learned long ago how to numb the pain of a beating, though that did little to quell the horrible memories it still evoked. As her face throbbed with the promise of a deep bruise on her cheekbone she righted herself on the stool, straining against the bindings behind her back. If she twisted her wrists much harder there would soon be blood joining the sweat that dripped from her fingers.