Harshini (17 page)

She climbed to her feet and glanced around the temple.
What makes it holy?
she wondered idly.
The gods
—
or the people who worship them?

“Cheltaran!” Her voice echoed through the cavernous chamber, but no divine being answered her call.

“Cheltaran!” Was there some sort of ritual she should perform to summon him? Zegarnald came when she called, as did Gimlorie. Dacendaran and Kalianah seemed to come and go as they pleased. She had never tried summoning another god.

“Hey! Cheltaran! I need you!”

“Never have I been summoned quite so…eloquently, demon child.”

She started at the voice and spun around to find the god standing behind her, leaning against the Seeing Stone, his arms folded across his chest. They did that a lot, she noticed. You called them and they popped up where you least expected them.

“Cheltaran?”

He smiled serenely. In solid form he looked like an older version of Dace, but without the motley clothes or cheeky grin. He wore a long white robe, similar to those worn by the healers of Hythria, but she had expected someone older. A fairly ridiculous expectation in hindsight—these beings were immortal. If they appeared old, it was simply because they wished to.

“Is there some reason you called me? You appear quite well.”

“There are Harshini here who need you.”

“Ah yes. The Harshini who overextended themselves.”

“You know about them?”

“Naturally. I am the God of Healing. All sickness and injury is known to me.”

“Then why haven’t you done something about it?” she demanded impatiently.

“Healing is part of every living being, just as, sometimes, allowing nature to take its course is also a part of life. Things happen as they must, R’shiel. I do not interfere without good cause.”

“Well you have a good cause now. I need them up and about.”

“
You
need them? Am I to interrupt the natural order of things at your whim, demon child?”

R’shiel thought about that for a moment, then decided she didn’t have time to argue. She nodded. “That’s about the strength of it.”

“I have interfered more since you came along than I have in the past millennium,” the god told her with a frown.

“Then a bit more won’t make much difference, will it?”

Cheltaran sighed. “Very well, demon child. I will do as you ask. But be warned. There will be a reckoning. Nature requires a certain balance. Each time you call on us to disturb that balance, the day of reckoning draws nearer.”

There was something vaguely threatening in his tone that worried R’shiel.

“I don’t mean to.”

“I know you don’t. But you are the demon child. You are a force of nature in your own right.”

Cheltaran vanished abruptly, before R’shiel could say anything more. She was puzzled by his sudden disappearance, but the reason became clear a moment later, when the doors to the temple flew open and the sound of booted feet pounding on the tiles echoed
through the place. She turned as the interlopers emerged into the light. It was Almodavar, Damin’s captain, and a squad of his Raiders.

“My Lady! Lord Wolfblade demands you return to the palace at once!”

“He
demands
, does he?” she asked with faint annoyance as she descended the steps from the altar. “What’s the matter now?”

“The palace was attacked. They’ve taken Adrina.”

R’shiel swore under her breath.

By the time she reached Almodavar, she was running.

R’shiel was shocked by the devastation when she reached the palace. There was blood on the white marble steps and smeared across the tiled floor of the main hall. The diamond-paned windows that led out onto the balcony and overlooked the harbour were shattered into a carpet of glittering shards that crunched underfoot as she followed Almodavar at a run. There were several bodies lined up near the doors, with shrouds thrown hastily over them.
How many had died,
she wondered?
And for what?

Almodavar led her to a small passage off the main hall that ended in a door inlaid in gold with the crest of the Wolfblade family. Someone had driven a dagger through the eye of the wolf and it remained embedded in the wood like a silent warning. Almodavar opened the door without glancing at the knife and stood back to let R’shiel enter. The Raiders who had escorted them from the Collective stayed on guard outside.

“What happened?”

Damin looked up at the sound of her voice, obviously relieved to see her. His eyes were hard and
she could read the tension in the set of his shoulders. The other men in the room, whom she guessed were Damin and Narvell’s lieutenants, wore expressions of concern—and perhaps a little excitement—at the prospect of seeing some action. The only woman present was Marla, who paced the floor impatiently as her sons plotted their revenge. There were maps scattered across the large oval table, anchored at their corners by anything heavy enough to act as a paperweight.

“We received a message that Tejay Lionsclaw had arrived and wanted to meet with us before she entered the city,” Damin told her. “As it turns out, it was false. The palace was attacked while we were gone. We’re still counting the dead.”

“And Adrina?”

“We think they took her by boat,” Narvell added. “We found a rope tied to the balcony in her apartments.”

“She could have simply used the confusion to run away,” Marla suggested tartly. “I’ve never trusted that woman.”

Damin glared at his mother. “I’ve no time for your bitching, Marla. Adrina didn’t run away.”

R’shiel silently applauded Damin. It was about time someone put Her Royal Highness in her place. She glanced around the room that Damin had turned into his command post to avoid meeting Marla’s eye. It must have been Lernen’s private sanctuary. The walls were rather distractingly painted with explicit murals that depicted a variety of sexual positions, some of which R’shiel was certain were physically impossible. It seemed odd,
this bustling war council being held amidst such decadent artwork.

“Where would they take her?”

“Dregian Castle lies along the coast here,” Damin said, pointing to the map laid out on the table before him. “It’s a few hours away by boat, but easily navigated.”

“They’ll have her there before we can mount a counter-attack,” Narvell added.

“So what are you going to do?”

“Get her back,” Damin announced matter-of-factly. His outward air of control worried R’shiel a little. The Damin she knew should have been raging like a wounded bull. It wasn’t like him to be so level headed. He glanced at Narvell, not waiting for R’shiel’s reaction. “Have you heard from Rogan yet?”

“No.”

“Damn! I’ll need his troops.”

“You’re going to attack Cyrus?”

Damin turned to her impatiently. “Of course I’m going to attack him!”

“You’re an idiot.”

The whole room stilled as Damin slowly straightened. His eyes were terrible, his whole being radiating fury. This was the Damin she knew. The rage, the grief, the debilitating fear for Adrina was perilously close to the surface. R’shiel realised she had about a heartbeat to explain herself before Damin lost control completely.

“Don’t you see? That’s why they took Adrina. They
want
you to attack. Or to be more specific, they want your troops—and Narvell’s and Rogan’s—out of the city.”

Damin’s shoulders relaxed a little. R’shiel breathed a sigh of relief. He was quietly murderous, but not beyond reason.

“You don’t know that for certain.”

“No, but they’ve been rather obvious about it, don’t you think? I mean, leaving the rope hanging from her balcony where you can find it? They might as well have hung out a sign. It’s a trap, Damin. Cyrus wants you out of the city. Worse than that, he wants you on his territory.”

“Then I plan to see that he gets what he wants,” Damin growled.

R’shiel sighed with frustration, wishing she could make him see what was so obvious to her. “Even if you took every man you have here in Greenharbour, and Narvell’s and Rogan’s with them, you’ve got less than a thousand men. How many has Cyrus got waiting for you?”

“It won’t matter.”

“The hell it won’t!” she scoffed. “I don’t mean to dent your precious male pride, Damin, but even
you
can be outnumbered. I don’t care how good you think you are.”

“If you don’t plan to help me, R’shiel, then get out of my way.”

“I’ll help you to rescue Adrina, Damin. I’m not going to help you commit suicide.”

“What are you talking about?”

“If you attack Dregian Province, you will be invading Cyrus’ province, whatever the provocation. Cyrus will defeat you, and hang your head on his walls
and
he’ll have the full force of the law on his side, if I’m not mistaken. I imagine Adrina will live long
enough to see your head fall off the block, before she joins you.”

Damin sank down in the chair behind him as the logic of what she was saying finally began to sink in.

Marla looked at R’shiel in surprise. “You have an excellent grasp of politics, demon child.”

“I had very good teachers, Your Highness.”

“The benefit of an education by the Sisterhood,” Damin remarked sourly. “You see treachery where others think only of honour. So, demon child, what do you suggest? That I leave Adrina to the mercy of my enemies?”

“Certainly not! We’ll go and get her back. But we won’t do it with an army at our heels.”

Damin met her eye for a moment and then nodded in understanding. “I’ll organise a ship. It’ll take three days by land to reach Dregian Province, and the gods know what he’ll have done to her by then.”

“Then we won’t go by land, or by sea, for that matter. But don’t worry about Adrina being hurt. Cyrus won’t harm her and she’s worth nothing to him dead.” She turned to Marla. “Your Highness, can you keep up the illusion that Damin is in the palace?”

“To what purpose?”

“Cyrus undoubtedly has spies everywhere. They’ll be waiting for him to move. Narvell, I suggest you and Rogan continue to muster your troops, but take your time about it. While Cyrus thinks Damin is still in Greenharbour preparing to fight, he won’t be on his guard.”

“How many men should we take?” Damin asked.

“Two. You and me.”

“You can’t attack Dregian Castle single-handed,” Narvell declared, aghast at her suggestion.

“I’m not going to. We shall retrieve Adrina, by stealth rather than force, before Cyrus Eaglespike knows anything about it. We shall then wait for Tejay Lionsclaw to arrive and hold the Convocation as planned.”

“And when Cyrus tries to play his hand, he will find it has slipped through his fingers,” Marla added, with undisguised admiration. “Damin, you should have married
this
one.”

Damin frowned at his mother but didn’t bother to answer her. Instead he turned to R’shiel. “How do we get out of the palace without being seen?”

“You leave that to me.”

“You worry me when you say things like that.”

She shrugged. “When shall we leave?”

Damin smiled savagely, his mood improving noticeably with the prospect of doing something useful. “Now is as good a time as any. Unless you have something better to do.” He jumped to his feet, wearing the same stupid grin he always wore when he was about to fight. It was a male thing, R’shiel reasoned. Tarja did the same thing. “Narvell, keep an eye on things while I’m gone. And don’t let mother bully you.”

Marla looked as if she might protest, but Damin and R’shiel didn’t wait around to find out.

“Can we get to the roof?” R’shiel asked as she stepped into the hall. Damin closed the door behind them and looked at the dagger embedded in the door. He jerked the blade free and hurled it to the floor angrily.

“Why do you want to go up on the roof?”

“Because we want to sneak out of the palace Damin, and it might be a little bit obvious if I summon a dragon in the middle of the main courtyard.”

“A dragon? You are going to summon a dragon?”

“If Dranymire agrees to it.”

“I don’t know about the roof in this part of the palace, but there is a roof garden attached to the guest quarters in the west wing. Will that do?”

“I suppose.”

She followed Damin as he hurried through the debris of the attack. They were still clearing out the bodies of the guards who had died defending the palace. As they climbed the sweeping marble staircase that led to the guest apartments, they met two Raiders carrying a stretcher between them, coming
down the stairs. A sheet covered the body on the stretcher, but it didn’t conceal the blue skirts and bloodstained slippers underneath.

“Damin!”

He glanced at the stretcher and ordered the men to halt. With some trepidation, he peeled back the cover. R’shiel let out a small cry of anguish as she saw who lay beneath it.

“Gods,” Damin muttered. “Tamylan never deserved such a fate.”

“Tam was Adrina’s best friend.”

“She was just a slave, R’shiel,” Damin corrected, gently replacing the sheet and waving the men on.

“She was still Adrina’s best friend.”

Damin nodded grimly. “Come. We have another reason now to deal with Lord Eaglespike.”

When they reached the second landing, R’shiel discovered Mikel sitting on the stairs, tears streaming down his face. R’shiel knelt down beside him, ignoring Damin’s impatient sigh.

“Mikel? Are you hurt?”

He shook his head. “I’m sorry, my Lady…”

“Sorry? For what? This wasn’t your fault.”

“We heard them…me and Tamylan…we were bringing the princess her dinner. We saw the men in the hall and Tamylan ran at them. She told me to hide. So I did.”

“Then you’ve nothing to be ashamed of, Mikel.”

“But Tamylan’s dead and all I did was hide!” he wailed. “Now all these people are dead…and I don’t where Jaymes is…”

R’shiel glanced up at Damin helplessly. She had no idea what to say to the child.

Although she could tell Damin was consumed with impatience, he squatted down beside the boy. “Mikel! Look at me!”

Unable to ignore Damin’s commanding tone, Mikel wiped his eyes and turned to the Warlord. “Every man under my command knows how to follow orders, even when they don’t like them. I don’t expect to find them sitting about crying over it afterwards, either.”

“No, sir,” Mikel replied weakly.

“As for your brother, he’s alive and well. He was with the party I took to meet Lady Lionsclaw.”

Mikel brightened considerably at the news. “He was?”

“Yes, he was. Now, pull yourself together, lad, and get your arse down to Captain Almodavar and tell him I said to find you something useful to do. We need every man we’ve got at the moment and I don’t have time for you to sit here bawling like a baby.”

“No, sir.” Mikel squared his shoulders and smiled tentatively at Damin. “Are you going to rescue the princess, my Lord?”

“If I don’t keep getting distracted,” he agreed, with an impatient glance at R’shiel.

She smiled at Mikel, then on impulse she summoned the little demon who seemed so fond of getting Mikel into trouble. He started as the creature popped into existence beside him.

“The demon will stay with you, Mikel, until we get back. But you mustn’t tell anybody that we’ve gone.”

Mikel stared at it for a moment then turned to R’shiel. The demon chittered at him unhappily, sensing the child’s misery. “What’s his name?”

“
She
doesn’t have a name yet. Maybe you can help her think of one.”

He nodded and sniffed back the last of his tears.

“Off you go, boy,” Damin ordered. He was chafing at the delay.

Mikel fled without another word, the little grey demon tumbling down the stairs in his wake. R’shiel watched them go and then turned to Damin with a smile.

“You handled him very well.”

“You gave him a pet demon.”

She shrugged. “It’ll keep him company.”

He stared at her for a moment and then shook his head. “Come on. And I don’t care what we find on the next landing, we’re not stopping.”

The roof garden was a riot of greenery, intricately laid out paths and fountains that filled the night with their musical splashing. Damin led her to the paved clearing in the centre of the garden and glanced up at the starlit sky.

“Another few weeks and the rains will start.”

“A pity they aren’t here now. We could do with a bit of cloud cover.”

“Can’t you make us invisible?”

“I’m not even sure how to
ride
a dragon, Damin.”

“But you said—”

“I know what I said. I wish Brak were here.”

Damin glanced at her for a moment then shook his head. “You really are a bit of a fraud, aren’t you?”

“I’m the biggest fraud in the whole world. I have no idea what I’m doing and only the vaguest idea of
what I’m
supposed
to be doing. I just have to hope that if I keep pretending long enough, I’ll figure out what’s going on.” She frowned then, turning to look at him. “I have to leave soon, Damin. You don’t need me to take your throne for you. You have Adrina. She’s actually a lot better at politics than I am.”

“You seem to get by,” he noted with a faint grin.

“I’ve Joyhinia to thank for that.”

Damin wasn’t sure how to answer that, so he turned and looked up at the sky again. “Summon your demons, demon child. I’m sure the gods will watch over us.”

She frowned, wondering if she should mention that his assurance gave her little comfort. Then another thought occurred to her—something that should have been dealt with, long before this.

“Damin, there’s something you should probably know. About Adrina.”

“What about her?”

“She’s pregnant.”

“I know.”

“You
know
? Who told you? Marla?”

He smiled smugly. “I am neither blind nor stupid R’shiel. And I can count.”

“Why didn’t you say something?”

“It was more fun watching Adrina trying to work up the courage to tell me herself.”

“You can be a real bastard, Damin Wolfblade. You don’t deserve her.”

He sighed, suddenly serious. “No, I think we actually deserve each other.”

“Then you admit you feel something for her?”

“When I heard she’d been kidnapped, I thought I would die, R’shiel,” he admitted, albeit with some reluctance. “I’ve never felt that way about anyone before.”

“Not even your horse?” she asked.

“My
horse
?”

“It’s something Adrina said once. That the only thing you truly cared about was your horse.”

Damin thought for a moment and then smiled. “No, I think I actually care about her more.”

“Well make sure you tell her when we get her back. I’m sick to death of you two. Everyone’s life would be considerably easier if you devoted all that effort to making peace instead of war.”

Dranymire responded almost instantly to her summons, although he seemed unimpressed when she explained what she wanted of him.

“Riding a dragon is a skill that takes a great deal of time to learn, R’shiel,” he warned in his deep voice. “You can’t just hop on and hope for the best.”

“But we need to get to Dregian Castle. Tonight. It’s three days by road and they’ll see us coming from leagues away if we take a ship.”

“Getting there late is better than not getting there at all.”

“Please, Dranymire.”

The little demon cast his liquid eyes over Damin and frowned. “I suppose you want us to carry him, too?”

“Yes.”

“When next you are at Sanctuary, Your Highness, you and I need to have a long discussion regarding
the nature of the relationship between demons and the Harshini. Specifically, the wanton use of demon melds.”

“And I promise I’ll listen to every word. But right now, I need a dragon.”

“You need some discipline,” the demon corrected loftily. “However, I am in the mood to indulge you, and there are a number of my brethren who will benefit from the experience.”

“Thank you,” she said with relief, bending down to kiss his wrinkled grey forehead. “I won’t forget this.”

“Neither will I,” the demon promised, somewhat ominously.

They stepped back as more demons began to materialise and gather around Dranymire. R’shiel quickly lost count of them. The demons bonded to the té Ortyn family were among the oldest and most numerous of all the brethren, which accounted for the size and stature of the dragon they could form. She watched in fascination as the meld began, demons flowing into each other almost too fast for the eye to take in.

The dragon grew before her until its wings blocked out the stars.

“Climb on, Your Highness, and try not to fall off.”

R’shiel used the dragon’s leg as a step and pulled herself up, surprised at how warm the metallic scales felt under her hands. Damin clambered up and settled himself behind her, his arms around her waist. R’shiel tried to find something to hold onto, but there was nothing.

“You must grip with your thighs,” Dranymire informed her. “Riding a dragon is simply a question of balance.”

“Balance,” she repeated dubiously, seriously doubting her wisdom in deciding to use a dragon to rescue Adrina. She glanced over her shoulder at Damin. “You ready?”

“I suppose.”

Dranymire must have heard him. A gust of warm wind rushed over them as the dragon beat its powerful wings and lifted them into the darkness.