As she sat, she considered the little she had learned from the Drameara. She was caught in a web of revenge for events that had happened hundreds of years before, of which she knew only the barest details.
She heard a sound behind her and turned to see that the Drameara had returned and was starting to build a fire.
“Why does the Ancient hate Valor’s descendants so much?” she asked.
He glanced at her, then returned his attention to the kindling he was carefully piling. “She was betrayed.”
“By the war?”
“By Valor’s son.”
She frowned. “But she never met Valor’s son. He was born after the war.”
“Are you sure of that?”
She thought back, trying to recall her lessons from school.
“Valor’s son – your ancestor – was already a young man by the time of the war. He knew my mistress.”
“How do you know?”
“Her blood carries her memories.”
“You know her memories from her blood?”
“Yes. Her memories become mine.”
“You know them all?” Her tone was shocked.
“No. But the more of her blood I drink, the more I learn. Which is why I know that it was not the Ancients that started the war, but Valor.”
She turned back to look out over the desert. Was he telling the truth? As well as he knew it, she was sure. But the Ancient was shrewd and devious, and Lark had no doubt that she could twist the Drameara’s mind if it suited her to do so. She thought back to her meeting with Clem; he had spent years pouring over the ancient records to discover what had happened. Surely if Valor had caused the war, someone would have written about it. She gave her head a mental shake. Even if she could not recite all the facts and figures, she had no doubt that the Ancients had been the aggressors.
She turned to face him. “What are we having for supper tonight?”
Chapter 26
Lark woke to the sun shining in her eyes. She sat up to see the Shadow Warrior strapping his weapons to his bare torso.
“Why are you like that? Are there Guardsmen nearby?”
He turned to look at her. “No. I will travel the rest of the way like thisss.” He turned to look out over the barren plain. “I no longer need to blend in, and asss there are more dangersss around the mountainsss, I’ll be better prepared.”
“You keep your usual appearance to blend in?”
“Yesss. We don’t want the Guard to know us, except at the end of a sword.”
She had grown used to his odd appearance, but the fact that he could taste her feelings was no less disconcerting for it. He was still the Drameara, though, despite the different skin he wore. She glanced around but saw no sign of the horse she had been riding.
“Where’s Blackie?”
“There’s a town just a few milesss from here.”
“You sold him?”
“He could have been supper for a wolf.”
“So could I,” she retorted.
The Drameara cocked his head. “I wasss not gone long.”
“How long does it take?” she asked, sarcastically. She held up a hand. “Never mind.” She walked over to the edge of the cliff and peered over. “How are we getting down?”
“With thisss.” She glanced around to see a rope coiled beside the tree. It had not been there the previous night, which meant that he had bought it when he sold the horse.
“I will lower usss down.”
“Us? We’re going down together? Can’t you lower me first?”
“Thisss is more expedient.”
Picking up the end of the rope, he wrapped it around a large rock and tied a knot. He tested it, then carried the other end of the rope to the ledge and threw it over. Lark watched as it flew through the air, unraveling as it fell, then disappeared into the distance.
“Does it reach the bottom?”
“No.” He turned to face her. “You must wrap your armsss around my neck.”
“Are you sure there isn’t another way down?”
His tongue flicked the air. “Scared, princessss?”
She swallowed and looked away. Yes, she was scared. “Of course not.”
“Then come.” He picked up the rope and tested it once more, running it through both clawed hands, then looked up, his eyebrows lifted in question. Stifling a sigh, she stepped over to him and wrapped her arms around his neck, while his went around her, holding the rope behind her back. He leaned back over the ledge before taking a small leap down, feeding the rope through his hands. She gulped as he continued downward, leaping and bounding down the rocks. Her grip tightened around his neck and she fixed her gaze on his face. She could not see his fangs, but the pointed tips of his tongue flicked between his lips as she watched in fascination. His gaze darted to her, before returning to the wall of rock at her back. Her arms grew tired as she clung to him, but she did not release her hold. They passed piles of jutting rocks and numerous stunted trees, clinging precariously to the rocky sides. A falcon flew past, the wind carrying away its screech.
“Doesn’t it burn your hands?” she asked.
“You’ve seen my handsss, princessss. They can withstand quite a bit.”
She remembered his clawed hands on her face and suppressed a slight shiver. They had been tough and leathery, but still gentle on her skin. His tongue flicked the air and his gaze shifted to her before returning to the rock behind. They reached a small ledge, and he brought them to a stop. Releasing her tight grip, she shook out her arms. A glance over the ledge had her stepping back quickly as he flicked the rope and it came tumbling down.
“How did you do that?”
He frowned in confusion. “It wasss tied around a rock.”
“But you lifted it off the rock from way down here.”
“I could have climbed up, untied the rope, and jumped back down, but flicking it off wasss easier.”
“You could have jumped all the way down to here?”
“Yesss.”
“Can you jump to the bottom?”
“Yesss.”
“And jump back up?”
He cocked his head. “No-one can jump that high. I would run up the mountain.”
“Really? Show me.” He shook his head as he wrapped the end of the rope around a stunted tree truck, and she smiled. “You can’t do it.”
He stopped what he was doing, his gaze flicking to her. “You want me to show you?”
“Yes.”
“Very well.” Before she had a moment to realize what he was doing, he wrapped his arms around her and flung them both off the ledge. She opened her mouth to scream, but no sound came from her throat as she gripped him tightly. “Wrap your legs around me,” he said. “Now,” he added harshly when she remained frozen in his grip. She lifted her legs as he bent his knees and then slammed into the ground, his feet absorbing the impact that shuddered through him. Slowly, she dropped her feet to the ground and loosened her arms, but her legs would not hold her and she would have fallen into the dust if he had not grabbed her arms and pulled her back to her feet. She fell against him, and felt his body shaking. She yanked herself away to stare at him, her hands against his chest to hold herself steady.
“You’re laughing,” she hissed. “You almost got us killed, and you’re laughing!”
He leaned forward, bringing his mouth to her ear. “After all this time keeping you alive, I would not have killed you now, princesss,” he said, humor still evident in his tone. His breath brushed her ear, and she shuddered. In an instant he went still, his mouth still hovering at her ear; and then slowly, he dragged his tongue along the edge of her ear, down to her lobe, where he flicked the celeste studs she wore, then pulled back to look at her. Her gaze met his for a fleeting second before dropping to his chest, where her hands still rested, half covering the dragons that wound around his breasts. They were intricately wrought, she noticed, with fine scales etching the
surface of each.
Her hands loosened and she stroked him, tracing the dragon circle with her fingers.
“Don’t,” he hissed.
“Don’t what?” Her hands moved over his skin; the silver dragons were warm against her palm. Her fingers touched the tips of the dragon tongue. They pricked her skin as she brushed his nipple. He leaned forward until his mouth was only an inch away. She lifted her eyes to his as his tongue flicked, brushing her lips. They parted as she drew in a breath, and then he was kissing her, his tongue brushing against hers.
His hands slid from her waist, rising to press against the wall of stone on either side of her head, as his legs pressed against hers. Her hand was still on his breast, and she rolled his nipple between her finger and thumb. He pulled away with a hiss, and then was back, delving deeper with his tongue. He drew back, his forehead resting on hers, then pulled away as she leaned her head against the rock.
“It feelsss different,” he said, “kissing someone like thisss.” She half opened her eyes and quirked an eyebrow. “It’sss not something I usually do.”
“Not usually, or never?”
“Only someone with very strange tastes would want to kissss me like thisss. No wonder you’re not attracted to the prince.”
“Argh!” She pushed her hands against his chest and he took a step back, a smirk on his dark lips. “Am I wrong?”
“You are annoying.” She stepped away from the cliff and looked up. The top looked very far away. “Why are you taking me to the Ancient when you know what she will do?”
“It isss her command.”
“And you never disobey her?”
“Never. My purpose is to serve her.”
She gave him a scowl. “Why?”
“You know why.”
“She wants revenge.”
“For good reason.”
“The Crimson Guard will eventually find a way to kill you.”
“Perhapsss. But by then, the stella will be remade.”
“Stella? What stella?”
He stepped back and turned to face the desert. “We must keep going.”
“Tell me, what stella?”
“Enough, princessss! You would harasssss a man to hisss death!”
She was quiet, but her mind was churning. Whatever the stella was, it was clearly important. She turned over his words. It needed to be remade. Would it give the Ancient more power? He had already started walking into the desert, and pushing her hair from her face, she began to follow.
The desert was hard-packed dirt, the brown sand as fine as powder. Stones and rocks were strewn everywhere, making it harder for her to walk, although the Drameara did not seem at all affected. Dust rose in the air as they walked, and she could feel it in her nose and ears, while a layer of grit covered her teeth. A few thorny trees spread their branches to the sky, and even their small, hardy leaves were covered in a fine layer of dust. As far as the eye could see was a sea of brown, with the mountains rising in the distance, and the strange hills scattered across the plain.
Halfway through the morning, he handed her a flask of water. “We must use it sparingly,” he cautioned.
“How long will it take to cross this wasteland?”
“At this speed, five daysss.”
“Then we should have lowered Blackie down in a sling,” she said, only half joking.
He cocked his head. “I can carry you.”
“No, thank you, I’d rather walk!”
He gave a soft snort as he took the flask from her and continued the march across the desert.
That night it was freezing, and she pulled her blanket tight around her as she stared up at the heavens. A million million stars twinkled down at her from a sky that was as black as pitch.
“The stars are my companionsss,” he said, startling her, and she turned to see that he was staring up, his hands behind his head. “As a boy my father would point them out to me, telling me their namesss.” He pointed a clawed finger. “The Twin Stagsss.” He indicated another constellation. “The Maiden’s Sash.”
“And that?” she asked, pointing to a cluster near the horizon.
“The Queen’sss Crown.” She stared at it, watching the middlemost star pulse with light. It was the Night Light.
“Did you spend a lot of time with your father?”
“No. Thisss isss one of the few memoriesss of usss alone together.”
She was quiet for a moment. “At least you have that,” she said after a while.
He glanced at her, but she rolled over on her side, turning her back to him. She could not remember a single time when her father had spent time alone with her. She pulled the blanket up around her shoulders and shut her eyes. Did he regret not taking time to get to know her, now that she was gone? Somehow, she thought not.
Someone was shaking her. “Stop,” she mumbled, swatting away the hands at her shoulders.
“Princessss, wake up,” the Drameara hissed. She opened her eyes, then sat up abruptly when she saw his yellow eyes gazing down at her.
“What?”
“Crimson Guard. We must move.”
“What are they doing out here?” she asked, gathering her cloak and throwing it around her shoulders.
“They have greatly increased their patrols out here. They hope to catch us unawaresss.”
“How far away?”
“A few milesss. They’re headed this way.”
He gathered his things, strapping on his weapons and grabbing his bag, before leading her through the dark.
“Where are we going?”
“There’s a small koppie not too far.”
“A what?”
“A very small hill.”
“How do you know?”
“I know this desert like the back of my hand, princesss. Besidesss, I can see in the dark. I have the eyesss of a snake.”
“Along with other things,” she muttered.
He flashed her a glance. “You don’t seem to mind the other thingsss, princessss.”
She flushed and quickly looked away.
“There are some rocksss we can hide behind,” he said.
She frowned. He was a Shadow Warrior who had no need to hide. She glanced back at him, but he did not look her way.
They reached the koppie fifteen minutes later, and he led her to a place behind a rock. “We will wait here,” he said. “They’re almost upon us.”
The words were barely out of his mouth when she heard the ringing of hooves. She heard shouting next, and she drew in a startled breath. Immediately his hand clamped over her mouth, and she felt his lips at her ear. “If you give usss away, they’ll all die,” he hissed.
“This way,” came the voice, “I’m sure I saw something move!”
His hand moved from her mouth as he withdrew his sword, and she leaned her forehead against the rock. She knew that voice anywhere, remembered it as a child as she played games with her brothers. No, Iron, she wanted to scream, get away from here. Instead she went as still as she could, barely even drawing breath as the men drew closer.
“This way, to the hill,” Iron shouted. Idiot, she thought, does he not know that he’s loud enough to wake anything asleep out here? She felt the Drameara shift, and from the corner of her eye saw the tattoo shine dully. He stiffened, then cast her a quick glance.
“You will run up the hill asss soon as I tell you too.”
“What will you do?”
“What I must.”
She spun around to face him, her eyes wide. “No, please, that’s my brother.”
He looked startled. “Your brother?” He stared at her for a moment, then suddenly rose, dragging her along with him, and stepped out from behind the rock.
“What – ” she began, but was cut off when his hand clamped over her mouth. He pulled her back against his chest.
“Quiet.”
“There,” shouted Iron, and the men turned their horses in th
eir direction.
“Stop,” the Shadow Warrior hissed. He lifted a dagger to her throat and pressed the blade against her skin as the horses skidded to a halt.
“It’s a Cambrian woman,” one of the men said. Iron glanced at her for but a second.
“What is the meaning of this?”
“Come closer, she diesss, followed by all of you. Leave, and she livessss.”
Iron frowned. “You are giving us the choice to leave.”
The Drameara inclined his head.
“Why?” Iron’s eyes flicked back to her, and for a moment she thought he recognized her, but his next words dispelled that notion. “Who is she?”
“Doesss it matter?” He pressed the blade a little harder, piercing the skin. Lark’s eyes widened as she realized that he might in fact kill her. Go, she pleaded with her eyes. Iron stared at the Shadow Warrior a moment longer, then turned to his men.
“Let’s go.”
“Go?” one of them shouted. “He has a Cambrian woman hostage, and we’re just going to leave with our tails between our legs?”
“That’s exactly what we’re going to do,” Iron said firmly.
“No,” shouted the man, charging forward. The blade pressed a little deeper, and then it was gone as the Shadow Warrior sent it spinning into the charging man. It sunk into his chest, right to the hilt, and he fell from his horse with a crash. A metal disc was sent hurtling through the air, striking a second man as Lark stared in terror, her eyes fixed on Iron.
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