The World of Samar Box Set 3

by M. L. Hamilton

  Tyla covered Inara’s hands with her own. Tears blinded her momentarily. It had been so long since she had seen the woman who had been her only mother. Pulling her hand away, she kissed her palm. Inara looked older, the wisp of hair showing under her cap an iron grey. When Tyla had gone to Adishian, she had begged to have Inara go with her, but Rarick had refused. He’d always refused every wish.

  Her eyes shifted beyond Inara to the school room. It had been emptied of furniture, except a bed and a large chair. The bed dominated the center of the room. Behind it, the chair had been turned to face the windows. Tyla could just make out a long fingered hand gripping the arm.

  Her gaze lowered to the bed. A small, pale figure lay in the middle of it, dwarfed by the pillows piled to elevate the figure’s blond head.

  “Is that Gallia?” Tyla asked, moving beyond Inara.

  Inara refused to release her arm, pulling her back. “Don’t go in there. He’s there.”

  Tyla turned and covered Inara’s hand. “I know. This has to end and I’m going to end it.”

  Inara’s eyes lowered to the emerald pulsating at Tyla’s breast. Her eyes brimmed with tears. “You can’t. Please listen to me. You can’t beat him. He’s completely insane.”

  Tyla curled her fingers around Inara’s hand and pried her fingers away. “I’m not a little girl anymore.” She squeezed the nurse’s hand. “It’ll be all right.”

  Releasing her, she moved into the room. Gallia turned her head on the pillows and looked at her with sunken, hollow eyes. With difficulty, she lifted her hand and reached for Tyla. Tyla crossed to her side and sank down on the bed, taking the offered hand.

  Gallia’s breathing was labored, her narrow chest rising with each pant. The skin around her lips was blue.

  “Is your brother with you?” she whispered.

  Tyla searched her, wishing she had her healing kit, something to ease the woman’s discomfort. By the wasting of her body and the strange pallor of her skin, Tyla knew there wasn’t much more she could do.

  “He’s in Adishian.”

  Gallia closed her eyes. She didn’t respond for a moment, but tears leaked out and ran down her temples. Inara had eased up behind Tyla, placing her hands on Tyla’s shoulder. Tyla looked up at the nurse.

  “How long has this been going on?” she asked.

  “Months.” Her gaze flickered to the man in the chair, but so far Rarick hadn’t moved.

  Tyla deliberately ignored him. She needed a few moments to collect her thoughts. Being this close to him had set up a sick feeling in the pit of her stomach.

  “I sent for him,” muttered Gallia. She turned her head on the pillows restlessly. “I sent over a month ago.”

  “I’m sorry. Are you able to drink anything? Eat?”

  Gallia’s eyes narrowed on her. “It doesn’t matter. He’s finally done it. He’s killed me.”

  “Rarick?”

  “Who else?”

  “How?”

  “With his poisons.”

  Tyla looked to Inara for confirmation.

  “He tested the Orahim potions on her. He’s been doing it for months.” Reaching down, Inara pushed back Gallia’s sleeve. Needle marks lined the inner part of her elbow.

  Tyla clenched her jaw, but Gallia tightened her grip on Tyla’s hand, drawing her attention. “Kill him,” she hissed. “Kill him for me.”

  “Shut up, witch,” came Rarick’s sibilant tones from the depth of the chair, “before I finish you myself.”

  Tyla closed her eyes and tried to center herself. Lifting her hand, she curled it around the emerald. Slowly she rose from the bed and moved around it, approaching the chair where the King of Sarkisian sat. She couldn’t see his face, but she could see his long, yellow fingernails and the shoulder of his red velvet cloak.

  “It’s over, Rarick. Abdicate the throne to me and I’ll let you live.”

  A strange choking laugh came from the depth of the chair. “You’ll let me live. My how Tarnow indulged you. You’ll let me live.” His hand lifted and pointed out the window. “Do you see that rabble? They come here and demand I feed them, shelter them. Masses of them. Vermin, animals. I want them gone.”

  Tyla could see the gates of Sarkisian beyond the window. Past that was the refugee camp, teeming with people in desperate need of help. “Abdicate and they will no longer be your problem.”

  The laugh again, hissing, wheezing with humorless intent. A shiver raced over Tyla’s flesh and the emerald began to heat against her skin. Slowly, Rarick leaned forward and looked back at her. The bright sunlight cast shadows on his cheeks, made his eyes look cavernous. He rose from the chair, his height accentuated by the light, his shadow falling on Tyla, obliterating the sun.

  She swallowed hard, but held her ground as he moved toward her. Involuntarily, she lifted her hand and gripped the emerald, pulling it away from her flesh. It glowed through her fingers, casting a nimbus of green light around her.

  Rarick came to a halt before her, towering over her. He looked down with his cold, feral eyes and snarled. “Genuflect when you are in the presence of your King.”

  “You are not my King,” she said, forcing her voice to be level. “You never were. Abdicate and I’ll let you go free.”

  He lifted his hand as if he’d strike her.

  Tyla released the emerald and the light flowed around the circular walls of the room. “Do not raise your hand to me!” she commanded.

  He took a step back, his eyes narrowing on the talisman. Slowly his arm lowered. “The Karhartadon emerald?” He rolled the foreign word around his tongue.

  “The emerald that almost brought down this tower,” she added.

  Rarick’s eyes were fixed on it, then suddenly he laughed. “When your father held it. You are not your father.” Before she could react, his hand snaked out and grasped the gem. It flared, but nothing more.

  Tyla released her power. The percussion of it rattled the windows and sent Inara to the floor, but Rarick didn’t feel anything.

  He wrenched the chain and it broke, then he cast the emerald from him. Tyla watched it sail through the air until it struck the wall, sparking on impact. It dropped harmlessly to the floor and went out.

  Her shock was so complete, she didn’t notice his next move. His hands closed around her throat, squeezing. She grabbed his wrists, clawing at his hands when they tightened. Lights exploded in her head as she fought to tear them away.

  Then she was thrown forward, careening into the tower windows. Glass shattered and rained down. For a moment, Tyla hung over the empty expanse of sky, staring down at startled soldiers before she was hauled back by the rope of her hair.

  Rarick wound his hand in it and pulled her head back. She could feel blood trickle down her face where the glass shards had cut her. “I want them all dead,” he whispered in her ear, forcing her over the edge of the window. Glass cut into her hands as she fought to keep from falling, cut into her stomach where he pressed her into the jagged windowsill. “Kill them.”

  She tried to work her foot between his legs, anything to gain leverage. She tried to slam back with her head, but he held her too tightly. And she used her power. She could hear the remaining windows shivering with the force of her assault, but nothing happened. His hold never lessened.

  “I want them all dead. Now!”

  “Never,” she ground out through clenched teeth.

  He pushed her forward and she stifled a cry as the glass bit into her stomach. Her thoughts went to Jarrett momentarily, but she choked them back. Then something struck both her and Rarick, forcing them forward. Rarick wheeled around a moment later, hauling Tyla with him.

  She was thrown to the floor. Scrambling away, she looked up.

  Gallia hung on Rarick’s back, clawing at his face with both hands.

  He reached behind him and pulled her off. She was so frail and thin, he was able to throw her over his shoulder. Her body impacted with the tower floor so hard, Tyla heard her bones snap.

&nbs
p; “Bitch!” screamed Rarick, pressing his fingers to the bloody gouges across his cheeks.

  Before Tyla could gain her feet, he kicked Gallia. The queen gave a moan of pain and curled into a fetal position, but Rarick simply kicked her again. Tyla threw herself at him, pummeling him with her fists. He staggered back, then lowered his shoulder and slammed the full weight of his body into her.

  The force of his blow knocked her into the stone wall by the windows. Her head struck the uneven surface and pain exploded in her skull. As she slid down the wall, she saw Rarick return to Gallia’s motionless body.

  Then there was only darkness.

  * * *

  Jarrett staggered to a halt, the sword dipped, and he lowered his head. Allistar moved forward and gripped his arm. Closing his eyes, the Terrian shivered violently and exhaled on a moan.

  “What?”

  Jarrett shivered again. The other men crowded around, their expressions alarmed. “He hurt her.”

  “Who? What are you talking about?”

  Jarrett pressed his free hand against his eyes. “Tyla. Rarick hurt her.”

  Allistar exchanged a look with his companions. They understood enough to get the gist of the conversation.

  “We have to keep riding. We can’t make camp now.” Jarrett shoved the sword back in its sheath. “Even if we have to ride all night.”

  “Fine.” Allistar turned to the Nazarien. “Tell them to saddle the horses. We ride to Sarkisian tonight.”

  Kendrick gave the orders and the three men hurried off to do as requested. Allistar gripped Jarrett’s arm tighter. “How badly did he hurt her?”

  Jarrett met his look. “I don’t know. I only got a glimpse. It’s not enough to judge anything.”

  “But she’s obviously in the castle?”

  Jarrett nodded.

  “Do you think he’d kill her?”

  “I don’t think so, but he’s insane, Allistar. We’ve got to go now.”

  Allistar thought for a moment, then nodded.

  * * *

  Tyla gradually came awake. Blood pounded in her temples and her body felt weighted. She gave an involuntary moan and lifted her hand to touch her forehead. Someone had unbound her hair.

  “Thank Eldon, you’re finally awake,” came Inara’s voice beside her.

  She opened her eyes a slit and looked at the nurse. Tears made streaks down Inara’s cheeks.

  “I thought you’d never wake again.”

  Tyla lifted her head enough to feel the back of it. A bump met the probe of her fingers and pain flared behind her eyes. She lay back on the pillows and closed her eyes.

  “I cleaned the blood away. It was matted in your hair.”

  Tyla nodded carefully. “Where’s Gallia?”

  The nurse didn’t answer.

  Tyla opened her eyes again. “Inara?”

  Tears fell faster and the nurse lowered her head. “She’s dead. He killed her.”

  Nausea rose inside of her and she tried to roll to her side. “I’m going to be sick.”

  Inara helped her over and held the mass of her hair back while she vomited bile. The nurse had thought to put a basin close at hand. After the nausea abated, Inara let her wash her mouth with water, then eased her back.

  As Tyla rolled onto the pillows, she noticed the bandage on her inner elbow. She reached for it. “What’s this?”

  Inara began sobbing. “I tried to stop him. I tried, but there were too many. I begged him not to do it.”

  Tyla grabbed Inara’s arm. “What? What did he do?” But she already knew the answer.

  “He said it would control you. Just like Gallia. He gave you the Orahim potion.”

  Tyla fell back on the bed. Her stomach roiled and her head throbbed. “Oh, I’ve made such a mess of this. I thought the emerald would be enough, but it’s not. The problem isn’t with Rarick. It’s with me.”

  “I don’t understand.”

  Suddenly, it all fell into place. Her power, the emerald…Rarick. “He isn’t blocking me. I am. I fear him so much I’ll never be able to use my power against him.”

  “We have to get away. We have to find some way to escape.”

  “No. I’m not running anymore. This has to end.”

  Inara’s grip tightened. “He gave you more of the potion than he gave Gallia. He said he needed more to control you. He won’t stop. They’ll come again and they’ll hold you down. He’ll give you more of it. He’ll kill you.”

  Tyla leaned closer to her. “I’m not leaving. Not until he’s dead.”

  “Even if he kills you?”

  “Even then,” she said.

  * * *

  Earon led them through the refugee camp and around the outer wall of Sarkisian toward the west of the city. The people followed them with their eyes, but they made no move to stop them. Jarrett could see soldiers patrolling the walls in the dying light of the day, but the gates of the city were closed.

  “Where did these people come from?” asked Kendrick.

  “Adishian,” remarked Muzik. “I see the standard on some of their wagons and carts.”

  Earon was edgy, glancing up at the walls every few minutes, keeping his head cocked at an odd angle. His hand flexed against the hilt of his sword. Jarrett brought his mount closer to the runner’s side.

  “How much farther?”

  “Not much.”

  “How do you know of this tunnel?”

  Earon shot another nervous glance at the wall. “I used it many times. How do you think I got into and out of the city?”

  “Is this how you stole the horses?”

  Earon briefly met his gaze. “No, I took those off dead Guardsmen. Same with the uniforms.”

  He brought them within a few yards of the wall, to a stand of stunted trees and strange rock formations. A thin stream of water trickled out of the rocks here. The men dismounted and Kian went to the stream, sniffing it. He backed away, shaking his head and sneezing. Jarrett bent beside him and cupped the water. It looked chalky and murky in the failing light. He sniffed it and then threw it away. It smelled of sulfur.

  Rising stiffly, he ran his hand through Kian’s fur. “Now what?” he asked the runner.

  “We wait until dark. The tunnel’s there.” He pointed to a strange fold of land backed up to the wall of the city. Motion along the parapets meant even this part of the city was being guarded.

  Jarrett shifted weight and shot a look at the setting sun.

  “What do we do with the horses?” asked Muzik.

  “They’ll stay with me.” Earon’s gaze shifted to Jarrett. “I’m not going under that wall, Jarrett. Not even for Tyla. Not now.” He motioned at his bad leg.

  “I know,” answered Jarrett. “We’ll leave the packs and everything here. Take only your weapons. Earon will watch the camp.”

  The men dispersed, hunkering down beneath the trees, prepared to wait for nightfall.

  * * *

  Dolan ducked under the lean-to and snapped to attention. Kalas paused in the midst of his pacing and turned to face him. “The scouts have returned. The gates of the city are closed and the reports are right. There’s a huge refugee camp before the wall.”

  “Should we send a delegation asking for admittance?”

  “To what purpose, Your Majesty? All accounts suggest Rarick’s preparing for war.”

  “Then are you suggesting we force our way inside?”

  Dolan sighed. “I’m not sure what to suggest. How far are you willing to go to enter the city?”

  Kalas’ expression hardened. “I didn’t come to be stopped by a gate, Dolan. If Rarick wants war, I’d rather it be fought here, than at home.”

  Dolan gave a short nod. “I’ll let the Baron know so he can prepare the men.”

  Kalas glanced away. “Am I doing the right thing, Dolan?”

  Dolan relaxed his stiff posture. “No monarch knows for certain, Your Majesty, but I’m not sure what else you can do. Rarick isn’t going to allow you to rule Adishian your wa
y. What other choice do you have?”

  “I know you’re right, but…”

  “But?”

  Kalas’ eyes were distant. “He cows me, Dolan. He makes me feel like a child. Whenever I’m in his presence I want to hide.”

  Dolan crossed the distance between them. He reached out and grasped the Prince’s arm. He’d never touched Kalas before and Kalas looked up in surprise, his pupils dilating. “You are the King of Adishian now, Kalas. Rarick has no hold over you. All of the men in this camp await your command. Command them well, Your Majesty.”

  Kalas straightened his shoulders. He didn’t answer, but the nod he gave said enough.

  * * *

  “Now,” said Earon.

  The five men broke cover and ran toward the fold of land. The dog streaked ahead of them. They halted under the shelter of the wall. Jarrett pressed his back to it, his hand flexing on his sword hilt, his other hand curled in the dog’s dense fur. He listened for a cry of alarm from the soldiers above them. Only silence met his ear.

  Earon searched along the strange rock outcroppings, feeling around on his hands and knees. Jarrett eyed the rocks. They looked like melted butter, hardened into glassy stone, smooth and polished in the light of the stars.

  “Here!” hissed Earon.

  Jarrett crossed to his side and peered into the hole. It opened inside a fold of the strange rock, the mouth yawning with darkness. He accepted the torch Kendrick passed to him.

  “Don’t light them until you’re inside the tunnel,” warned Earon, pointing at the wall.

  Jarrett nodded. He started to move into the opening, but Muzik pulled him back. “Let me go first.” His whistled for the dog, then stooped over and crawled into the opening.

  “How far do we have to crawl?” asked Jarrett, pressing a hand to his wounded side. He watched Kian hedge into the entrance after the captain. He obviously wasn’t thrilled about going underground.