by Joy Nash
For an instant, she thought she’d misheard him. Then she grabbed his arm. “Wrong? How could saving your friend’s life be wrong?”
“I blamed Balek for the Madness and the Blight.” He gave a humorless laugh. “What a hypocrite I am.”
“Derrin, what are you talking about?”
“Wizardry. Wizardry itself is the cause of the plagues. I realized the truth just before I pulled Ariek back from the edge of death.” Derrin shook off her hand. “Don’t you see? Each time a wizard’s will changes what should be, the land sickens.”
“You can’t be sure of that. Things change all the time.”
“Ariek should have died, but I wouldn’t allow it. I used my power to change the natural course of his life.”
“Derrin, listen to yourself! You’re not making any sense. How can it be wrong to save your friend’s life? He wasn’t supposed to die—someone tried to kill him. Would you feel better if they had succeeded?”
He shot her a dark look. “Of course not. I’d feel worse.”
“Then you made the right choice.”
“I can’t know that. My feelings are not a true reflection of what’s right and what’s wrong.”
She threw up her hands. As far as she was concerned, his logic was flawed, but it wouldn’t do any good to argue about it now. “Look, what’s done is done. Let’s not debate it. We have more immediate concerns. We’re out of water, and this field hardly seems like a good place to spend the night.”
Derrin nodded. “You’re right. We need to move toward the coast, where the forest is healthier.”
“Then let’s go.”
* * * * *
They forged downstream, making camp in a rare scrap of green forest. Derrin pondered his next move. The worsening Blight troubled him more than he cared to admit. Even this far from Katrinth, the land cowered under the ravages of the plague. How much longer before the villages of the Baha’Na succumbed to the Blight’s ravenous hunger? He needed to confront Balek soon, with Ariek’s help.
He went in search of his friend. He found him sitting near the fire, bare-chested, flexing his shoulder. His color had improved and the open gash on his shoulder had faded to a thin red line.
“I’m a credit to your healing powers, Derrin,” he said, shaking his head. “Amazing.”
“That’s good, since there’s no time for you to lounge about. Will you be able to travel hard today?”
Ariek nodded.
“Then I suggest we part ways. I’ll take Gina to the nearest Baha’Na village. Leave Danat in Sirth, then meet me at your mother’s villa in Katrinth.”
“Sirth! Hide her on my father’s estate, you mean? It will be crawling with Lotark’s Servants.”
“Not there. In town, in the last place the priests would dream of searching for their sacred Bride.”
Understanding dawned in Ariek’s eyes. “Do you think Beltha would—”
“I’m sure of it,” Derrin said. “All you need to do is ask.”
Chapter Twenty-Two
Power, sweetened by the terror of innocents, sang in Balek’s veins. The people sought shelter from madness in the depths of the webstone’s song.
The golden strains of music swelled.
Needles of sleet stung Danat’s face. She clutched the edges of the bloodstained stable blanket and pressed her spine against Ariek’s chest, wishing their stolen horse could manage something faster than a feeble trot.
Ariek leaned forward, shielding her from the worst of the wind. “This is the sorriest piece of horseflesh I’ve ever had the misfortune to encounter,” he muttered. He set his heels to the dappled mare’s flanks.
The nag pitched forward, then dropped back to its accustomed gait. Danat’s stomach lurched with every uneven step the exhausted horse took. She gripped Ariek’s arm and willed the nausea to settle.
“It’s not much farther,” he said. “I see the first lights of the city already.”
The scattered dwellings on the periphery of the city plodded past. Danat drew the edge of the blanket over her head, praying no one would pass them on the road. Even within the protection of Ariek’s crystal shadow, she dared not show the Mark of Lotark.
But the few travelers on the road kept their heads bent against the sleet. Ariek bypassed the most direct route into the city, circling the outskirts until he met the sea road.
The roar of the surf brought memories of Loetahl. Danat blinked back a sudden wash of tears.
Ariek shifted, pointing to a manor house set high on a bluff overlooking the sea. “My father’s estate.”
“Will we go there?”
“No. The priests may be watching for us.” His arms tightened around her. “I’m taking you to another place. You’ll be safe there.”
They reached the docks, where the skeleton masks of the tall ships scratched the charcoal sky, and the stench of decay overpowered the scent of the sea. Danat’s nausea intensified. She bit back the taste of bile.
A ramshackle collection of buildings crowded the far end of the waterfront, belching music and shouts into the night. For a moment, Danat thought Ariek meant to approach one of the bright doorways, but he drew up short and turned into a narrow alley. High stone walls loomed tight on either side, leaching the warmth from her body.
Despite the near-total darkness, Ariek didn’t slow his mount. He threaded the back alleys with single-minded purpose, ignoring the stench. It was clear he’d traveled the route many times. Danat closed her eyes and pondered that fact. Why would the son of a wealthy lord frequent such a place?
The freezing rain had penetrated the wool of the blanket, leaving her soaked to the skin. The fabric hung heavy on her arms, its musty smell mingling with the scents of salt air, rotting garbage, and human waste. Another wave of nausea hit her, more urgent than the last. If not for Ariek’s steadying arm, she would have fallen.
They turned into a narrow passageway and the beleaguered horse set its hooves and refused to advance. Ariek muttered a curse. He dismounted and pressed between the animal’s flank and the rough wall, grabbing the reins close to the horse’s head. When the beast could not be coaxed forward, he reached up and pulled Danat off the saddle.
“We’re almost there.” He peered down at her through the gloom. “Are you well?”
“Well enough, Ariek.”
He drew her farther into the fetid alley, skirting a pile of muck and turning into an even tighter passage. Overhead, stone arches pressed the leaning walls outward. The night sky was a dull slice of gray far above.
Ariek pulled her into a shallow doorway. “I’ve brought us around the back way. I didn’t want to risk the main entrance.” He groped at his belt for his crystals. A stone glowed white in his palm and the lock of the heavy door clicked. He pushed it open. Its hinges groaned in protest.
He stepped into a dim passageway and motioned for her to follow. Danat blinked as the door thudded shut behind her, grateful for the wave of warmth that swept over her. A hanging lamp cast a flickering glow over walls tinted the color of wine. A thick rug lay beneath her feet.
“Whoever you are, don’t take a step. I have a knife and I know how to use it.”
A woman appeared at the end of the hallway, the promised blade poised in her raised hand. The weapon provided an odd counterpoint to her gown of red lace over watered silk, cut low to reveal the swell of her ample breasts.
Danat clutched Ariek’s arm.
He chuckled. “Darcy, think what your employer would say if you were to murder me.”
The woman faltered, dropping her arm a fraction. “Ariek?”
Ariek stepped into the light.
“It is you!” The woman bent and lifted the hem of her gown, sliding the dagger into a sheath strapped to her calf. “What are you about, sneaking in the back door? Does Beltha expect you?” She regarded Danat with frank curiosity. “Who’s the wench?”
Danat shrank back, gripping her blanket, an uneasy suspicion forming in her mind.
Ariek gestured t
o a nearby door. “We’ll wait here, Darcy. Bring Beltha, and tell no one you saw us.”
The woman hesitated a moment, then nodded. Skirts rustling, she disappeared around a turn at the end of the hall.
“In here.” Ariek guided Danat to a small chamber and closed the door behind them. A huge bed filled the room with a froth of scarlet lace. A washstand and wardrobe crowded one wall. A fireplace, unlit, occupied the other. An oil lamp flickered on the mantle, illuminating a collection of silhouettes—men and women engaged in various positions of coitus. A tight knot of dread coiled in Danat’s stomach.
“Ariek. Have you… Have you brought me to a whorehouse?”
His face reddened. “I can explain.”
At that instant, the door flew open and a truly stunning woman entered the room.
She was tall, nearly as tall as Ariek. An abundance of golden blonde hair coiled atop her head in elegant disarray. Her features were exquisite—wide blue eyes, flawless skin and full, pouting red lips. A gown of wispy yellow silk clung to her lush curves, hinting at the peaks of her breasts, the swell of her hips and the soft mound between her thighs.
The woman’s gaze fell on Ariek and her eyes lit up. With a graceful flurry, she threw her arms around his neck and kissed him. The full length of her body pressed against his, arching like a cat. An instant later, she jumped back.
“Tarol’s blood! You’re soaked through!” She glanced down at her dress. Rainwater soaked the front, leaving even less to the imagination than before.
“It’s ruined.” She sighed, then gave Ariek a wicked smile. “But it was worth it. You’ve been away much too long, Ariek.”
Ariek sent a pointed look in Danat’s direction. “It’s always good to see you, Beltha, but this isn’t a casual visit.”
The woman frowned, taking in Danat’s form for the first time. “What’s this? Have you brought me a new girl? You could have come in the front with her, you know. A new girl is always good for business. There’s no harm in her being seen.”
A sudden, wrenching nausea swept over Danat. The room spun and her legs turned to water. She pitched forward.
“Danat—” Ariek’s voice vanished into a black void.
* * * * *
“Sweet Lotark’s cock, Ariek! This girl is the Bride!”
“I know that,” muttered Ariek, lowering Danat onto the bed. Thankfully, he’d caught her before she hit the floor. He struggled with the fastenings on her cloak.
“Damn it all to Tarol’s Inferno. I should have realized she was exhausted.” And he should have warned her about their destination.
Beltha rummaged through the wardrobe and appeared a moment later with a pink dressing gown, soft and somewhat frayed at the hem. Not something the girls wore while they worked, he noted with relief.
When the last of Danat’s wet clothes were removed and the coverlet tucked around her, Ariek sank down on the edge of the bed. His wounded shoulder ached. He lifted the sodden curls from Danat’s face and spread them across the pillow.
Beltha laid one hand on his arm. “She’s only fainted, Ariek. She’ll come around soon enough. In the meantime, why don’t you tell me what in Lotark’s name you’ve done this time?”
He studied her expression and felt a stab of guilt. Beltha still loved him, though she was far too practical to admit it. She didn’t deserve this.
He pushed himself off the bed and moved to the hearth. Crouching, he stacked the logs and kindling, then struck the flint and coaxed the spark to life. He stared into the new flames, thinking how best to plead his case.
“It’s a long story,” he said finally.
She folded her arms and regarded him steadily. “Start by telling me how you fell in love with the Bride of Lotark.”
Ariek’s mouth twisted into a wry smile. He rose to his feet, wiping the soot from the fireplace on his breeches. “You know me far too well.”
“I don’t need to know you well to see how much you care for her, Ariek. Any fool could tell as much.”
In terse sentences, Ariek told her of his liaison with Danat and the events of the night of the Bride’s Rising festival. Beltha gazed down at Danat with an inscrutable expression.
“So you found another lost soul to save. Like me.”
Ariek spiked his finger through his hair. “I’ve succeeded in endangered her life, not saving her.” He turned and leaned on one arm against the mantle, staring at the flames. “What news have you heard from the capital, Beltha? Are the Servants of Lotark searching for me?”
“No, not openly, at least. I’m quite sure I would have noticed your name in the news couriers’ reports.”
“What’s being said?”
“The Temple claims the Heir and his Bride have been lifted body and soul into Paradise. It’s a miracle,” she added dryly. Her gaze narrowed on him. “Did you kill Solk, Ariek?”
Ariek closed his eyes against the image of Danat’s frenzied attack. No matter what happened, he would not allow her to take the blame for the high priest’s death.
“Yes, I killed him.” He told her of his flight into the dead forest and of Derrin’s timely appearance. He followed it with a brief account of Balek’s experiments with the webstone.
“I promised to meet Derrin in Katrinth once I’ve hidden Danat. The crystal must be destroyed if Galena is to be saved.” He spread his palms in a gesture of supplication. “I know it’s much to ask, but will you hide Danat here? You’re the only one I can trust, and this is the last place the Servants of Lotark would think to look. I’ll pay you well.”
Beltha regarded him, scowling, and Ariek knew she was remembering another dark night, nine years past, when a foolish young aristocrat had fought a pimping slaver for a young girl’s life.
“Keep your money, Ariek. You know any girl in trouble is welcome here.” She tapped her finger against her mouth. “I can’t let her be seen, though—not with that brand on her forehead. It’s a good thing it was Darcy who came across you in the passageway. Of all my girls, her lips are the tightest.”
At Ariek’s raised eyebrow, Beltha laughed. She licked her fingertip and ran it across his lower lip, her eyes flashing with wicked fire. “Take that any way you like, love.”
He chuckled. He caught her hand and pressed it. “Thank you, Beltha. I’m in your debt.”
She pulled away, a wistful expression clouding her eyes. “It’s nothing. Now, if you’ll excuse me, there’s a gentleman waiting for me in the salon.”
His gaze followed the provocative swing of her hips as she moved to the door. “I don’t doubt it,” he said. “I don’t doubt it at all.”
* * * * *
“I’m going with you to Katrinth.”
“No.”
“But you need me there!”
“No, I don’t.” Derrin spared Gina the briefest of glances, but didn’t slow his swift pace. “You’d be in the way.”
He winced at the invective Gina hurled at him in reply.
She halted. He kept moving, sure she would follow.
“You’re a stubborn idiot,” she yelled after him. “The best way to set a trap for Balek is to use me as bait. I’m going.”
Derrin turned and paced back down the path, until he stood less than an arm’s length from his belligerent companion. She stood with her hands on her hips, eyes flashing.
He looked up at the sky and counted to ten. “Pay attention, because I’m only going to say this once. You will not go within a day’s travel of that bastard.” He held up one hand to head off her reply. “You will stay with the Skyeagle Clan. When I return with Balek’s crystal, I’ll send you home.”
Gina expression told him what she thought of his plan. “I’m not going to wait on some mountaintop, wondering whether you’re alive or dead! Besides,” she persisted, “why are you so sure I’d be safer there alone than I’d be with you in Katrinth?”
“Gina—”
A jay, hidden nearby, screeched. Birds in every direction took up its cry of alarm.
&nbs
p; Her head came up. “What is it?”
“Perhaps a predator, come to hunt. A wildcat, or a skyeagle.” But the pattern of the birds’ cries didn’t fit. Danger lurked close by, to be sure, but he sensed it was a threat alien to the wilderness.
Laughter sounded, low and intimate, flowing with genuine amusement. Derrin froze, scanning the forest around him. He could see nothing out of the ordinary.
Gina touched his arm. “Derrin, what’s wrong?”
“Didn’t you hear it?”
“Hear what?”
“The laughter…” Derrin’s whisper died on his lips. The voice echoed inside his head, growing stronger.
Did you think I wouldn’t find you, you pitiful guttersnipe? Your gutless friend led me to you. The woman is mine.
He probed the shadows. Balek couldn’t be far away.
“Derrin, what is it? What are you looking for?”
“Balek. He’s nearby. I can hear his ranting in my mind.”
She will be my queen, mongrel, ruling over all my subjects, even as I rule her soul. From this day on, she will exist only inside the web. Through her, all will be One.
The laughter erupted again, striking like lightning. Derrin fell backward and slammed into the ground. Pain spiked up his spine.
His limbs froze, snared by invisible shackles. At the periphery of his vision, he saw Gina caught in shining waves of golden air. Balek’s laughter grew louder.
Gina’s eyes flared. “Get out of my head!” she screamed.
Derrin strained with all his strength, but Balek’s unseen bonds held firm. Desperate, he hurled his consciousness outward, searching. An aura of obscene power drew him. He followed it to a sheltered hollow where the high wizard stood, holding the webstone aloft.
Derrin flung his mind into the stone and entered a yawning chasm of insanity.
Balek’s attention shifted from Gina. A slight frown creased his forehead. “You are but a minor nuisance, mongrel. Do not doubt my power.”
A screeching melody invaded Derrin’s brain, whittling away fragments of his sanity. Power focused and exploded, sending a thousand shards into his skull.