And what in the name of the gods has happened to Tam? Her last sight of the slave was her desperately calling Adrina back. Had she been captured too? Why wasn’t she here? The fate of a female slave in a Fardohnyan war camp was a foregone conclusion, but the Defenders were better disciplined. The Sisterhood who ruled them would not countenance such behaviour. Tamylan’s absence meant she had escaped—or she was dead. Adrina prayed it was the former. She feared it was the latter.
The body groaned again and Adrina stopped thinking of her own troubles long enough to wonder who it was. She sat up carefully and moved across the small gap separating them on her knees. Her companion was a young woman with short-cropped red hair wearing dark, close-fitting leathers and a silver collar smeared with dried blood.
“R’shiel?”
It couldn’t really be anyone else, but she was hardly what Adrina had envisioned. The girl was younger than she expected, and in her present condition she was far from the matchless beauty Damin had described.
What did one say to the fabled Harshini demon child?
“I’m Adrina,” she said, unable to think of anything else.
R’shiel stared at her uncomprehendingly.
“We have a mutual friend,” she added inanely. “Tarja Tenragan.”
I sound like Lady Chastity.
The demon child blinked at the mention of Tarja’s name, but that was the only reaction Adrina could get from her.
“R’shiel?”
She shook her shoulder, gently at first, and then quite roughly when that had no effect. Although R’shiel’s eyes were open, there was no light of comprehension in them. Adrina shrugged and immediately regretted it. Her shoulder was pounding and there was no point speaking to someone who was so obviously not listening. Brak had said something about that. Something about R’shiel retreating so far into herself that she was almost comatose.
“Well, I hope you don’t stay away for too much longer,” she told R’shiel irritably. “Right now the only thing that’s going to save either of us is a bloody miracle, so if you don’t mind, get over whatever it is that’s upsetting you girl, and come to your senses. There are people here who need you.”
Her reprimand delivered, Adrina sat back on her heels and waited for them to come for her.
CHAPTER 64
There are people here who need you.
The words filtered down through R’shiel’s pain. She didn’t know who had voiced them, but they echoed through the emptiness like a reproach.
I warned you, demon child. If you will not come to me through love, you will come to me through fear. The result is the same.
The memory of the pain was too fresh for R’shiel to deny Xaphista’s claim. But if she could not face him, she could run from him.
There are people here who need you.
R’shiel clung to the thought, clawing her way back to sanity with every scrap of her remaining strength.
She blinked suddenly and looked around. Canvas walls surrounded her and the ground where she lay was cold and hard. She turned her head, ignoring the pain the movement caused as the square of bright light intruded. It was blocked a moment later by the figure of a man stepping through, followed by several others. They were Defenders, but that meant nothing. The Defenders were her enemies now.
Someone pulled her to her feet, along with another prisoner. R’shiel didn’t have time to wonder who she was before they were both hustled out of the tent and led through the camp to Lord Terbolt’s tent.
Waiting inside was Lord Terbolt, a young man with brown hair and angry eyes, and in the corner, the young Karien boy who had been a prisoner in the Defenders’ camp. She couldn’t imagine how he came to be here.
“Your Highness,” Terbolt said with a short bow.
R’shiel was a little surprised to hear her fellow prisoner being addressed so formally. It hurt too much to move her head so she tried to study her out of the corner of her eye.
She was shorter than R’shiel, but even her rough clothing and her dishevelled appearance could not conceal her innate beauty. She was foreign; her skin was dusky and her hair much darker than R’shiel’s, and she had startling green eyes. Perhaps she was Fardohnyan. She certainly wasn’t from Medalon and Karien never produced such exotic looks.
“And this is supposed to be the demon child?” the young man asked sceptically. “She doesn’t look much, does she?”
“I recall thinking the same thing when I met you, Cretin,” the woman snapped with a surprising amount of venom.
The young man leapt to his feet angrily. “You will only speak when spoken to, whore!”
R’shiel fought to stay conscious, the argument between the angry young Karien and the beautiful Fardohnyan woman giving her something to focus on. She didn’t know either of them, but their conflict kept the nothingness at bay. It kept away Xaphista’s persistent attempts to coax her back down into the hole. If she went back now, she would never escape. She knew that with a certainty.
“Don’t you dare speak to me in such a tone!” the Fardohnyan declared. “When my father hears about this—”
“When he hears about what, Adrina? Your treachery or your Hythrun lover?”
Adrina. Damin’s floozy in the see-through dress. Hysterical laughter bubbled up inside her but she fought it down. The sobering process was helped considerably by the realisation that this young man was probably Prince Cratyn. And the Hythrun lover? Even in her semi-conscious state, R’shiel could easily guess who that was.
“What lover?” Adrina scoffed. “Is this some pathetic story you’ve invented to provide an excuse to have me stoned? No one will believe you, Cretin. I am a loyal and dutiful wife. It is you who could never get the job done.”
Cratyn smiled coldly. “I have a witness, Adrina.”
R’shiel’s eyes fixed on the Karien boy, who looked as if he would rather be any place but in this tent. He was so guilty he was trembling with it.
Adrina glanced at the boy also, then laughed. “Mikel is your witness? A boy who’s spent as much time with the enemy as he has with you? He’s not even a disciple of the Overlord. He follows Dacendaran, the God of Thieves, and I have that from the god himself.”
“There are no other gods,” Cratyn retorted.
Good, then you don’t need me, R’shiel said to herself.
Terbolt turned to the boy who cowered under his gaze.
“Is this true, boy? Do you follow a false god?”
“No!” he cried. “I follow the Overlord.”
“That’s not what Dace says,” Adrina said smugly.
“Dace?” The boy looked utterly confused. “But he’s just a thief.”
“Then you do know him?” Terbolt asked.
“Well, yes, but—”
Cratyn grabbed the boy and shook him savagely. “Is this true? You are an agent of the God of Thieves?”
“Pick on someone your own size, Cretin.”
He threw the boy down and turned on the princess, slapping her with a vicious backhanded blow. “Shut up!”
Adrina stumbled backward but when she looked back at him, once she regained her balance and wiped the blood from the corner of her mouth, her eyes were full of defiance.
“It’s not going to work, is it, Cretin. What was your plan? Hunt me down and kill me and claim the Hythrun did it? Only the Defenders found me first, so you had to fall back on your other plan, didn’t you? Accuse me of adultery and have me stoned. But your star witness can’t testify for you, can he? He isn’t just a disciple of Dacendaran, he counts him as a friend! Now what are you going to do?” Cratyn hit her again. Adrina staggered backwards, then turned on R’shiel. “Hey! Demon child! If you’re thinking of doing anything useful, now would be a pretty good time!”
Cratyn struck her again. His anger had slipped beyond reason.
“Leave the princess alone!” Mikel cried in protest but Lord Terbolt held him back.
Come to me, R’shiel. Through love or fear, the result is the same.
There are people here who need you.
It was Adrina who had spoken those words, R’shiel realised with a start.
Cratyn managed to push Adrina off him and draw his sword. At the sight of the blade, Adrina knew she was done for, R’shiel could tell by the look in her eyes. Mikel was sobbing as he realised what Cratyn intended.
But not Adrina. She was defiant to the last.
“Go on, Cretin. Kill me. But before you do, I want you to know that I did take a lover. And do you know what? It was wonderful! He was strong and passionate and I made love to him every chance I could, anywhere I could. But the best part…the best part…was that he made me forget you and your evil, insidious Overlord.”
If you’re planning to do anything useful, now would be a pretty good time.
Your evil, insidious Overlord.
Cratyn raised his sword at the same time R’shiel reached into her boot and drew the small dagger that Garet Warner had given her. Her aim was unerring. It took Cratyn in the chest with a solid thunk.
The young prince looked down in astonishment at the blade that was buried up to the hilt in his tabard, before his eyes rolled back in his head and he dropped to the floor.
Adrina stared at R’shiel for a moment then smiled. “I’ll give you one thing, demon child, your timing is impeccable.”
She had no chance to reply. Terbolt threw the boy aside and opened his mouth to call the guards. R’shiel’s eyes darkened as she drew on her power. The burning seared through her but she ignored it.
She understood now. The collar worked on fear as much as pain. Xaphista had told her that himself. Come to me, R’shiel. Through love or fear, the result is the same. Fear, not pain. It was her fear of the pain that blocked her power, not the pain itself. If Adrina could stand fearlessly in the face of death, R’shiel could cope with a little burning agony.
She raised her arm and pointed at Terbolt. The duke dropped to the ground before he could utter a word, dead or unconscious—even R’shiel didn’t know for certain. She turned her attention inward then and focused on the collar. It disintegrated with a thought, falling away from her neck like sparkles thrown at a children’s party. With it went the pain. In the back of her mind she caught the echo of an anguished cry. Xaphista realising she was lost to him.
For the first time in weeks, R’shiel felt whole again. The power coursing through her eased her pain and healed the burns. The feeling was the closest thing to pure ecstasy she had ever experienced.
R’shiel turned her black eyes on Adrina. She liked this fearless Fardohnyan princess. She reached out and touched her shoulder, felt the muscle and skin knit beneath her hand.
Adrina stared in wonder for a moment, flexing her healed shoulder, then she frowned at R’shiel. “Thank you. Now, are you just going to stand there looking majestic, or are we going to help the others?”
“Where are they?”
“How should I know? Mikel!”
The boy edged his way past the bodies of Lord Terbolt and Prince Cratyn. Adrina caught his sleeve as he neared the entrance and pulled him to her, squatting down so that she was eye to eye with the terrified child.
“Do you know where they’re holding the others, Mikel?”
He nodded dumbly.
“Good. Then we shall go and rescue them. You needn’t be afraid. R’shiel is Harshini and she’ll protect us with her magic.” The boy began to cry. Adrina rolled her eyes, but she put her arms around him and hugged him gently. “There, there, Mikel. Don’t let it upset you.”
“But I’ve betrayed the Overlord. And my prince.”
“Yes, well, I wouldn’t lose too much sleep over that, child. You have Dacendaran to pray to now and Cratyn isn’t worth crying over. Now, are you going to help us or not?”
Mikel wiped his eyes and nodded.
“Good boy. Shall we go then?” She looked up at R’shiel questioningly.
“This could get messy,” she warned. “The priests can feel me now and I’m really not very good at this.”
Adrina looked around the tent and shrugged. “You seem to be doing just fine to me.”
They stepped out of the tent and into chaos. The priests rushed toward Terbolt’s tent clutching their magic-killing staffs, shouting conflicting orders to the Defenders. As R’shiel emerged into the sunlight with Adrina and Mikel, the priests halted their headlong rush. They stood before her cautiously, their lips moving silently as they prayed to their god.
Garanus stepped forward, holding his staff before him. The Defenders, for whom religion was a quaint foreign custom, stood back to give him room. They were curious, not alarmed. Two women and a child hardly warranted their attention and they had no idea what lay inside the Karien lord’s tent. The priests’ antics were more entertaining than threatening and they were reluctant allies at best.
“I call on the Overlord to strike you down, demon child!” Garanus chanted as he approached. He knew she was drawing on her power, his staff would have warned him, even if her eyes didn’t. “I call on Xaphista to vanquish your evil!”
“Vanquish?” Adrina muttered behind her. “Where do they come up with this nonsense? Do something about him R’shiel. We haven’t got time for this.”
Brave she might be, but Adrina certainly wasn’t blessed with patience in any great quantity.
Garanus was chanting loudly, in unison with the other priests. Her skin tingled as the magic they tried to raise washed over her. It was stronger than it should have been. Xaphista was lending them a hand.
Without warning a bolt of bright light exploded from the tip of Garanus’ staff. R’shiel raised her arm deflected the bolt with a thought. It landed with crash amidst the tents a few paces away, sending Defenders scurrying for safety. Another bolt followed it and then another. Xaphista wanted to destroy her. There was no question about that now. She had chosen sides and in His mind, chosen the wrong one.
I am the demon child, she told herself, and Xaphista has only a smattering of believers here. This battle, at least, I can win.
R’shiel deflected another blinding bolt of lightning and then pointed at the staff Garanus carried. It exploded in a burst of shattered gems, sending the few Defenders left standing diving for cover. The staffs of the other three priests behind him exploded almost immediately after.
She looked past them and discovered Brak, his eyes as black as hers, standing behind the priests. He nodded as she caught his eye, but made no move to aid her. R’shiel smiled briefly, then focused her disconcerting eyes on the Kariens.
“If you leave now, I will let you live. If you choose to stay, you will meet Xaphista a lot sooner than you expected.”
To his credit, Garanus hesitated. Without his staff he had no more power than any other mortal. He debated the issue for a moment or two then glanced over his shoulder at Brak. He might be brave enough to tackle one simple girl, but two Harshini filled with a power he was helpless to combat, was enough to sway him. He conceded defeat with ill grace.
“This is a temporary victory only, demon child. You cannot defeat the Overlord.”
“We’ll find that out some other day. Now go, before I change my mind.”
The priests fled as the Defenders emerged from their cover. Their faces ranged from confused to completely stunned. Others hurried to put out the scattered fires that she had started as she deflected the lightning. For weeks they had ridden under the command of Terbolt and his priests. R’shiel’s dismissal of them left them speechless. Brak walked toward her and treated her to a rare smile of approval.
“Where have you been?”
“I could ask you the same thing,” he replied.
Not all the Defenders were at a loss for words, however. A captain stepped forward, blocking their path, his sword drawn. R’shiel recognised him as Denjon, one of Tarja’s classmates when they were cadets.
“Where is Lord Terbolt, R’shiel?”
“In the tent with Cratyn,” Adrina answered for her, rather more cheerfully than the situation warranted. “You might want to take command now, Captain. Lord Terbolt is indisposed and it seems I’m a widow.”
The captain stared at them for a moment, then allowed himself a thin smile. “That’s tragic news, your Highness. You have my condolences.”
“Thank you, Captain, but don’t worry, I’m sure I’ll be able to deal with my grief.”
“Where are Tarja and the others, Denjon?”
“The Hythrun and the Defenders who tried to free you are being held down near the picket line. Tarja’s in the Infirmary tent.”
R’shiel’s heart skipped a beat. “Where? What happened?”
“What do you think happened, R’shiel? He doesn’t believe in giving in gracefully. He took a sword in the belly trying to get you out of here.”
There was a reprimand in his words that startled R’shiel. “You sound as if you think this is all my fault.”
“Isn’t it?” Denjon asked. He met her alien eyes for a moment then looked away. “Sergeant! Find Captain Dorak and tell him to go to Lord Terbolt’s tent. And then go down to the picket line and…who’s in charge of the Hythrun?”
“Lord Wolfblade,” Adrina told him.
“The Lord Wolfblade?” He had obviously not been aware of the importance of his prisoner. Adrina nodded, rather amused by his expression. Denjon turned back to the sergeant. “Bring Lord Wolfblade to me. And do it tactfully, Sergeant. The last I heard he was supposed to be on our side.”
“Sir!” The man saluted and turned to go, but Denjon called him back before he had taken more than two steps.
“Send someone to fetch Captain Kilton and Captain Linst, too. I’ll be in the Infirmary.”
The sergeant left to carry out his orders and Denjon turned back to R’shiel.
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