The World of Samar Box Set 3

by M. L. Hamilton

  Kendrick was silent in contemplation for a long time. Finally, he lifted his head and gave Jarrett a narrowed look. “How do you know Tomlin Trauner?”

  “Why do you ask?”

  “Because you muttered his name many times during your fever and it surprised me when I recognized who you seemed to be calling. I didn’t think you’d ever gone to Chernow before.”

  “No, I’ve never been to Chernow and I’ve never met Tomlin Trauner...well, to my knowledge, at least.”

  “Then what do you know of him?”

  Jarrett leveled his eyes on the Stravad. “I believe Tomlin Trauner’s my father.”

  Kendrick didn’t immediately answer. He met Jarrett’s gaze and his expression gave nothing away. Jarrett expected no less from a Nazarien. However, he surprised Jarrett with his next words. “He’s a fine man. I’ve spent a great deal of time with him. In fact, he’s the most respected Nazar since the time of Eldon. You should find pride in being his son.”

  Jarrett nodded. Kendrick’s praise might stoke his ego a little, but it didn’t answer the nagging questions he had, like why had he engaged in an affair with a woman from Terra Antiguo?

  Neither one of them felt like eating at that point. They circled around the subject of escaping before Rarick arrived, but came to no conclusions. Finally, Kendrick went off to his room.

  Jarrett sat by himself for a while, staring into the fire, but his thoughts kept circling back to one thing. Tyla.

  * * *

  He found her in the entrance hall, keeping watch beside Tarnow’s body. Jarrett wanted to broach the subject of leaving with her, but when he saw her, he decided she’d gone through enough for one night. She had, in fact, lost the only two people she had ever loved – Tarnow, who lay beside her, his face already a faint resemblance to what it had been in life, and Kalas, who had locked himself within the Council chambers and was entirely under the spell of Rarick.

  Silently, he took a seat beside her and together they waited for the coming dawn. Somewhere around midnight, he fell asleep in his chair. When he woke, dawn had come with another storm and Tyla was gone. He rubbed his eyes, yawned, and rose to his feet to stretch. Tarnow lay as before, the candles burning brightly around him. Jarrett paused a moment and stood looking at his face. He felt a surge of remorse as he looked on the ruined King. He had failed his people and had been driven from life by a vicious, greedy enemy.

  The door opened and four attendants entered, taking up their positions beside him. Jarrett regarded them for a moment, then turned. “Where is your Queen?” he asked.

  One of the attendants bowed. “She’s preparing for the funeral, my lord.”

  Jarrett nodded and left the room, ascending the staircase that led to the upper story. He hurried through his own ablutions and dressed in a clean uniform, then left his room and knocked on Tyla’s door. She opened it, her face even more drawn and pale than the previous night.

  “May I come in?” he asked and she backed up to allow him room to pass. Kian lay beside the fireplace, but there was no fire. The room was cold, damp, and dark.

  He turned and looked at her. She was dressed in a black gown and her long hair was pulled back tightly away from her face and bound at her neck. Jarrett was surprised to notice that her hair was still wet from her early morning bath.

  She crossed the room silently and stood before the mirror, raising her hands to smooth a few loose strands of hair.

  Jarrett moved close behind her. “Tyla, are you all right?”

  She lifted her eyes and seemed to focus on him as if she’d seen him for the first time, then she turned to face him. “Do you know what time they wish to begin the procession?”

  “It hasn’t been announced yet, but the attendants are waiting in the entrance hall now.” He stepped close to her and put his hands on her shoulders. “Are you all right? I don’t think you’ve slept for the last few days, and I’m not sure you’ve eaten. This room is freezing and dark.”

  Her face seemed distant and distracted. “I’m fine, Jarrett,” she said, “but there’s just been so much to do.” She looked around the room for a moment in anxiety. “Where’s Kian?”

  “Kian’s lying in front of the fireplace, where he’s always been.”

  She stepped around him then and took a seat on the hearth beside the dog. Kian nuzzled her cheek and then laid his head in her lap. Like Jarrett, he sensed that there was something wrong with his mistress. She stroked his head for a moment, then looked about the room. “Why don’t they hurry? The procession should have started hours ago.”

  Jarrett knelt down before her and took her hands. They were cold to the touch and he pressed them between his own to restore some warmth. “Tyla, let me light a fire,” he said, but she shook her head.

  “No, I don’t want a fire, it gets too hot and close in here.”

  “Tyla, it’s freezing in here,” he said, but she simply lifted her face and peered deeply into his eyes. She seemed so small and fragile at that moment that he wanted to take her in his arms and hold her until all of this madness passed them by, but a knock sounded at the door.

  He rose and went to open it, allowing Kalas inside. The Prince seemed surprised to see the Terrian, but passed through and went directly to his sister.

  Kian lifted his head and emitted a low growl, which made Kalas halt. Jarrett frowned at Kian’s behavior.

  “Curse it, Tyla,” said Kalas. “Why do you insist on keeping this vicious beast as a pet?”

  Tyla didn’t respond, but fixed her eyes on him. His face softened as he saw the lost look in her eyes and he knelt before her, far enough away from Kian’s huge jaws. “Tyla, it’s time. The pallbearers are ready to begin the procession. There are so many townspeople gathered at Kazan’s gates that if we don’t hurry, I’m afraid there may be a riot and I wouldn’t want to use force against them.”

  Tyla shook her head. “They won’t riot, Kalas, they’re too beaten down for that. They only wish to be part of the procession.”

  Kalas’ eyes shifted warily to Kian. “Very well,” he said, his voice still gentle, “but we need to go now and I want to accompany you.” He slowly reached out his hand. Kian’s lips curled back from his fangs and Kalas’ other hand slipped to the dagger in his belt.

  Recognition seemed to dawn in Tyla’s eyes as she saw him move for his dagger and she put a warning hand on Kian’s head. Then she gave her brother her other hand.

  He pulled her to her feet and clutched her briefly in an embrace, breathing a sigh of relief. Holding her away from him, he took her face in his hands and looked into her eyes. “I’m sorry for last night, I should have been more sensitive to your anguish.” Again she said nothing, but he embraced her once more. Then folding her arm over his, he led her from the room.

  Jarrett followed close behind with Kian.

  * * *

  Tarnow’s body was placed in a white coffin with the banner of Adishian draped over the top. Six pallbearers lifted the casket on a command from Muzik and they crossed the great hall to the front doors of Kazan where they met Tyla and Kalas. A black veil covered Tyla’s face, but even through the dark mesh, Jarrett knew no tears stained her cheeks. She seemed leaden and distant, but she didn’t seem able to cry.

  The royal procession descended the stairs to the central courtyard and so Tarnow left his castle home for the final time. The procession was led by Muzik and consisted of the six pallbearers (specially chosen from the Blue Battalion), the casket, Tyla and Kalas, Jarrett, Kendrick, and Kian, then the entire Council and finally, the personal servants of both the King and Queen.

  Soldiers from Sarkisian flanked all sides of the procession from the front to the rear, their swords drawn and pointed out toward the crowd that waited beyond Kazan’s gates. A single trumpet rent the air in the death march, a melodious, mournful wail that rose with a clear, haunting sound through the thick sheets of snow that blanketed the ground and fell from the sky. Everything else was deathly still, except for the occasional sob
that escaped from either one of the servants or one of the townspeople gathered in the main square.

  On the procession wound, through the main streets of Adishian, their footsteps cutting a path through the undisturbed snow and being quickly covered over from behind with the sleet that fell. The pallbearers carried their King with pride, their heads held high, their suits pressed and clean. Muzik marched in grim dignity before them all, only the glistening of tears in his eyes gave notice to what he felt inside.

  In mass, the townspeople left their warm homes and closed their shops so they might join. A legacy had now passed in Adishian and of those gathered, only a few welcomed it or the coming of Sarkisian.

  Soon they came to the gates of the royal burial grounds and Muzik pushed them open wide. The procession passed through and came to a halt before the deep, dark grave, while the townspeople gathered along the outer gates. A few words were said by Skells, as he was the Senior Council member, and then Tarnow’s coffin and body were lowered into the deep hole. Kalas led Tyla forward and she bent, lifting a handful of the frozen earth in her black gloved hand as was custom. She hesitated a moment, her eyes searching the crowd and finally resting on Jarrett, then she opened her hand and let the dirt fall with a patter on the casket.

  Kalas guided her clear of the grave and mound. As he led her away, back through the throng of people, the rest of the procession moved forward to pay their last respects and to toss earth on the coffin. Jarrett watched Tyla and Kalas go, but stayed until his turn came.

  Tarnow had been laid to rest beside his first Queen and their only son, who’d died of fever when he was little more than a boy. The hard earth on the coffin mixed with the snow falling on the ground and Jarrett thought it ironic. No matter how much snow might fall, it would never cleanse the wrong done to this King. He turned and gazed back to where Tyla had disappeared with her brother and felt uneasy. Whistling Kian to him, he hurried to follow them.

  * * *

  Kalas led her directly to the Council room and removed her cloak and veil, passing it to a servant and then sitting her down in a chair beside the fire. He wanted to get on with what he knew must happen next. He poured Tyla a cup of tea and placed it in her hand. He was concerned by her lack of animation, but brushed it aside. She’d soon be happy again, especially after he told her what he had planned for them.

  “Tyla,” he said, pulling his chair closer to her. She looked up at her name, but her eyes were remote. He closed his hands about the teacup and brought it to her lips. “Come on, tiger, drink some of this and you’ll feel better.” She obeyed his request and sipped at the tea. After a few moments, he took it from her and placed it on the hearth.

  “Tyla,” he said again, pressing her cold hands. “I know you’re grieving, but believe me, this pain will pass.” He paused for a moment and stared intently at her face. “Remember, when we were children and we use to tell each other that someday we’d rule the kingdom together. Remember that.”

  “I remember, Kalas.”

  He smiled at her. “Well, now we have that opportunity. Think of it, Tyla,” he said, “think of the possibilities. Tarnow had no heir, so Adishian’s without a ruler. Rarick intends that I take over. I know only a little about Adishian from my visits to see you, but you have lived here for ten years. Together we could rule the entire kingdom. We could restore it to what it once was before the war.”

  Tyla’s gaze fixed on his and she narrowed her eyes. “Do you really think Rarick would allow me to stay in Adishian and rule with you, Kalas? Do you really believe that?”

  Kalas forced a smile. “Of course. He speaks of you all the time, and once I tell him of my plan, he’ll think it’s a solid solution.”

  “He speaks of me all the time, Kalas, does he?” The Prince nodded. “And what does he say?”

  Kalas’ brow furrowed. “Many things. He thinks you’ve been the strength in the alliance between Sarkisian and Adishian. He believes you’ve given the people hope and have made the last years of Tarnow’s life happy. He talks of having you back in Sarkisian with him, where we could be like a family again.”

  Tyla’s head lifted. “He talks of having me back in Sarkisian. Don’t you understand why? We were never a family. Don’t you remember all the things Rarick did to us? How he made me use my power to harm people? Don’t you remember any of those things?”

  “You were always imaginative.”

  Tyla rose and pulled free of his grasp. “Imaginative! Is that what you call it? Do you mean to say I imagined all the times he beat you to make me use my power? Did I imagine all the prisoners that he brought before me? Don’t you remember the thief with the blonde hair that he nearly made me kill, or did I imagine that also, Kalas?” She was enraged by his denial, so she did the only thing she could think to do. She flooded his mind with memories, memories of all that had happened in the years when she’d been at Sarkisian.

  Kalas struggled to his feet. “Stop it, Tyla! Stop! You promised you would never do this to me again. Stop!” he cried, and struck her with the back of his hand.

  Slowly she looked up and her eyes burned with hate. “I see you’ve learned well, Kalas.”

  His eyes widened and he reached for her. “Why did you make me strike you? You promised you’d never use your power on me, you promised.”

  She pulled away in disgust. “I promised my brother those things, but my brother is dead.”

  He flinched. Somewhere inside he was the same boy who’d taken beatings for her and who’d made up images of fantasy that he’d begged her to share with him.

  “Tyla, please, I never meant to hurt you, but you can’t use your power against me.”

  She shook her head sadly. “I’ll do whatever’s necessary to protect myself.”

  With that, she turned and walked from the room.

  * * *

  That evening the castle was in turmoil looking for her. They searched all the rooms. Kalas demanded the entire staff and his own guards take up the search and not stop until she was found. No one had seen her since the funeral, except Kalas, and he hadn’t known where she had gone after she left him.

  Jarrett was the only one clever enough to take Kian with him as he search and instinctively he went to the gardens. As he stepped outside into the chill winter night, he pulled his parka closer about him and bent to whisper into the dog’s ear. Kian tossed his head against the cold and whimpered, but moved quickly away, his nose close to the ground to pick up her scent. Jarrett was worried now, he’d been worried all day. He’d even dared the wrath of the Sarkisian Prince, so concerned was he for Tyla’s safety.

  As they moved through the gardens, Jarrett could hear the voices of those that searched for her in the castle, they came to him distant and faint through the howling of the wind as it beat against the casements of the windows. This night was certainly the coldest he’d experienced in Adishian and no one should be out in it. He wondered if she’d even taken her parka.

  Bowing his head to the wind, he followed Kian as quickly as he could. The dog led him farther and farther into the gardens, away from the protective wall of the castle. Jarrett hadn’t been out this far and wasn’t sure exactly where he was going. The night was dark, the moon covered by a bank of clouds, and he had to stay close for fear of losing the dog in the tangle of undergrowth and trees. He looked back momentarily to where a light from the castle cast a faint glow against the rising mounds of snow.

  He noticed that the thick undergrowth was covering any tracks that he left and he wondered why Kian was so determined in coming this way. As he went, the garden became increasingly dense and tangled. Little care had been given it this far out from the castle. Jarrett was beginning to think that Tyla wouldn’t have come this far and he hadn’t seen a single footprint to guide them in this direction, but Kian was still moving as if he knew where he was going. How the dog could smell anything in all this snow baffled him.

  He whistled and the dog stopped, turning his head and pricking his ears forward. Jarret
t motioned for him to turn back to the castle, but Kian swung back around and continued on in the direction he’d been going. Jarrett slapped his thighs in annoyance, but followed, parting the branches and vines as he went.

  Then when he’d given up again, Kian darted forward. Jarrett stepped through the trees and saw Tyla, sitting on a stone bench in a clearing. Kian had jumped onto the bench beside her and was covering her face and hands with kisses. She didn’t have her parka on as Jarrett had suspected, but rather a thin cloak, the hood thrown back over her shoulders. He hurried to her side and pushed Kian off the bench. The dog took a seat on the other side of his mistress, laying his head in her lap.

  “Tyla, what are you doing out here? You’re going to freeze to death,” he said, surprised at the tone of anger in his voice. He took her hands in his, she still wore the thin, black gloves from the funeral, and held them to his lips, blowing warm air on them. She watched him absently, her body shaking with the cold.

  Stripping off his parka, he pulled it about her. The cold smote him with such force that he began to tremble, even though he still wore his coveralls and a thick, wool sweater. He stood and pulled her to her feet, slipping an arm around her waist. “Come on, sweetheart, I’ve got to get you inside,” he said, but she pulled away and the parka slipped from her shoulders to the ground.

  “No,” she said, taking a seat again on the bench. “I’ll never go back inside the castle, not now.”

  Jarrett picked up the parka and draped it over her shoulders, sitting down next to her. “Tyla, you’ll freeze to death out here. I don’t want to carry you, but I will. Please don’t argue with me.”