Broken Vows

by Cory Daniells

  Little Kalleen was a miserable creature. Unbound, she knelt at Gharavan’s feet. Where was Imoshen now? Halfway into the woods, running to Reothe, no doubt. He felt anger on Kalleen’s behalf. She had been willing to give her life for her mistress, only to be abandoned.

  “The Dhamfeer has escaped, thus confirming her guilt. What say you, General?” Gharavan asked.

  Tulkhan wondered why his half-brother felt it necessary to prolong this mock trial.

  “I knew nothing of it. I ask one thing only. Spare the maidservant.”

  His half-brother stiffened and glanced down at Kalleen, who ducked her head as if expecting a blow.

  “If she is so eager to take her mistress’s place, she can die in her place.”

  “No!” It was out before Tulkhan could stop himself.

  “No?” Gharavan stiffened in the seat.

  Tulkhan ground his teeth. His own life was forfeit but he might yet save the girl.

  “It was I who taught you to ride. I made your first wooden practice sword. If you have any memory of the love we once shared, grant me this one request. Release the girl.”

  “What of yourself?” Gharavan asked. “What do you ask for yourself?”

  Tulkhan ignored the glittering eyes of the Vaygharian who was relishing every moment of this.

  “Nothing?” pursued his half-brother. “Do you deny you refused to obey my command?”

  Stung, Tulkhan looked past his shoulder, to his own Elite Guard behind them. He knew he must look a pitiful sight in their eyes, naked, almost blue with cold, bruised and bloodied. They had followed him because they respected him. It irked him to lose their respect.

  “Well?” Gharavan prodded.

  “I would not lead my men to certain death in the southern highlands in the depths of winter. I’ve given a sworn undertaking to hunt Reothe and his accursed rebels come the thaw. But why continue this? We all know it is a mockery. You . . .”His anger threatened to choke his voice. “You, who had my father’s love, who always was his chosen heir, why do you fear me? I’ve served our father in his army as a youth and eventually as his General. I rose to that position through skill, not favor. Never once have I done other than served in his name. I would have honored you with the same service—”

  “Say you!” hissed the Vaygharian. “But what of the Dhamfeer Princess? You took her to your bed. The country is behind her. You could have taken Fair Isle for your own. Admit it, that was what the pair of you planned!”

  Tulkhan was stunned. What the Vaygharian said was true, he could have used Imoshen to unite the people. But it was never his intention to take the island for his own.

  “You twist my words—”

  “Enough!” The Vaygharian strode forward. “This man calls me a liar because he lies. He plots to further his own ambition.”

  Rage gripped Tulkhan, ridding him of the last shreds of despair. To be unjustly accused of the very crimes the Vaygharian was committing was the ultimate irony.

  Giving the formal signs he challenged the Vaygharian. “I call you liar, you are dishonored!”

  Kinraid laughed. “I won’t accept a challenge from a condemned prisoner. There is no honor in that!”

  He was loudly seconded by the king’s men, making Tulkhan wonder how many of them owed their position to the Vaygharian.

  Gharavan came to his feet. “Who says General Tulkhan can’t challenge Kinraid, the Vaygharian?”

  It was a strange question, one that surprised Tulkhan and made the king’s men hesitate. They looked to each other.

  “Who says he is a dog without honor and should be beheaded?” roared the Vaygharian.

  His shout was taken up by the king’s men, who followed his lead eagerly. Tulkhan noted the silence from his Elite Guard, the silence from the rest of the Stronghold servants and guard scattered through the great hall. They were unwilling witnesses to his trial and execution.

  Quickly he scanned the room, once again in familiar territory. This was a battle with the odds against him, but one which he recognized and understood. Now, he knew where he stood, who was loyal and who would stab him in the back given a chance. Now he could see for himself where his half-brother stood. Gharavan’s expression caught his attention.

  Odd, it was almost sympathetic.

  The young king stepped forward, pulling Kalleen to her feet. “Go home to your people.”

  She stared at him, her mouth open with disbelief.

  Kinraid started and strode toward Gharavan, obviously about to disagree with the king’s order. Tulkhan heard a shout from the back of the hall.

  His half-brother gave Wharrd a signal. “Arrest the Vaygharian.”

  “No!” Kinraid spun. “What manner of—”

  “Impostor!” A scream echoed to the vaulted roof as someone charged through the throng by the kitchen door. Someone who . . . Tulkhan stared. It was his half-brother, disheveled, frantic to reach them.

  The Vaygharian spun to face King Gharavan. “Then who? You!”

  He drew his sword and lunged toward the false Gharavan who thrust Kalleen aside and drew his own sword.

  Even as Tulkhan watched, his half-brother’s face wavered and slipped to reveal Imoshen in breeches and jerkin, her hair tightly bound at the nape of her neck. She parried Kinraid’s wild thrust.

  The hall reacted to the sight with gasps and curses.

  Wharrd darted forward with a bundle for Tulkhan. He found clothes and a sword thrust into his hands even as the great hall erupted. Men screamed, servants ran or turned on their oppressors.

  It was the Stronghold Guard and his own Elite Guard against the king’s men. The outcome was inevitable. But Gharavan’s men were well armed and desperate. They rallied around their king.

  Tulkhan discarded everything but the breeches. He dragged them on and laced them in record time, then leapt forward to engage the Vaygharian.

  Before he could reach him, one of the king’s men staggered into him. The man went down to his knees, dragging Tulkhan with him. Imoshen brought the hilt of her sword down onto the man’s head and offered Tulkhan her arm. A wild, fey smile split her face. Her wine-dark eyes were alight with battle fever and he shivered, recognizing it for what it was. Once he had wielded a sword in an ecstasy of killing. When had he lost that thrill? Now he hated bloodshed, hated death.

  Wordlessly, he took her arm and pulled himself up. Where was the Vaygharian? Bodies obscured his vision, threatened to overwhelm them both. Men were dying all around them.

  Turning, he plunged into the fray with one aim in mind.

  His half-brother fought desperately, his back to the wall, his men going down around him. Tulkhan swept through, hitting with the flat of his sword, kicking men aside as they went down.

  At last he faced his half-brother who stood, chest heaving, blinking with shock. Gharavan wore nothing but a nightshirt. Tulkhan could only suppose Imoshen must have surprised him in bed, subdued him, then made the switch.

  The king dragged in a ragged breath and lifted his sword point in the defense position as Tulkhan had taught him.

  Years of training on the battlefield guided the General’s sword. The blow sent the young king’s weapon flying from his numbed fingers. Then Tulkhan’s sword tip pressed at his half-brother’s throat.

  “Tell them to put down their arms,” Tulkhan said.

  “Surrender!” His half-brother swallowed, his Adam’s apple bobbing close to the sword point. “Lay down your arms!”

  The terror in Gharavan’s voice communicated itself to those around him and the swordplay ceased. There were repeated scrapes of metal on stone as the king’s men were disarmed or voluntarily downed their weapons.

  Tulkhan stepped back. “This way.”

  “What will you do?” Gharavan whispered.

  Tulkhan had no idea.

  He didn’t want to kill his half-brother. Yet his instinct and all his experience told him letting Gharavan live could be a fatal error. The youth’s death was needed to consolidate his positi
on.

  When had it come to this?

  Tulkhan turned his back on his half-brother and walked away. Would Gharavan attack him from behind? Was he hoping Gharavan would? Then he could strike the lad down in self-defense and remain guiltless of his half-brother’s murder. Tulkhan did not want to carry that burden.

  He saw Imoshen stride toward him.

  “Kill him!” she hissed, her face feral with the heat of battle.

  Tulkhan touched her cheek sadly and searched her eyes looking for something, though he could not have said what it was.

  “If I took life as easily as that, you would be dead,” he told her softly.

  She blanched, recoiling as if he’d slapped her.

  “Tulkhan?” Gharavan pushed through his kneeling, wounded men. “Tulkhan, blood kin—”

  “Don’t tempt me, Gharavan!” Tulkhan ground out.

  “He would have killed you!” Imoshen’s eyes were dark pools of anger. Tulkhan knew he had hurt her, and after she had saved him from being executed by his own half-brother.

  The enormity of what the Dhamfeer had done hit him. How she must be laughing at him! She had held them all in the palm of her hand during that masquerade. He shuddered at the thought. How could he trust Imoshen when he would never know what she was capable of?

  “Tulkhan?” Gharavan seized his arm. “It was Kinraid’s idea, he—”

  “Where is the Vaygharian?” Tulkhan yelled and thrust his half-brother aside. But though everyone looked for him, Kinraid had escaped the great hall.

  Gharavan did not seem surprised.

  “Wharrd?” Tulkhan turned to his Elite Guard, grateful to know that they had been loyal all along. “Send men out to the stables. Kill him if he resists, but I fear he has already escaped.” He turned to his half-brother. “As for you. I renounce all kinship with you. To me you are as one dead. You may take that which you can carry on your back, a horse and your wounded. Make haste to Northpoint.” He named the port where he knew his half-brother’s ships had made landfall. “Never set foot on this island again. If you do your life is forfeit.”

  He knew Imoshen would object. His half-brother was about to speak but Tulkhan overrode them both. “Go now. My Elite Guard will escort you. Stay clear of the capital, T’Diemn.”

  The king’s men were eager enough to flee, knowing they would escape with their lives. They hurried out of the great hall, escorted by the Elite Guard.

  At last Tulkhan turned to Imoshen, visibly seething at his side.

  “He would have killed you!” she repeated.

  “He’s still my half-brother—”

  “You’re sending him back to rule an empire seven times the size of this island, seven times as wealthy. Do you call that punishment?”

  The Dhamfeer stood there questioning his judgment as if she was his equal, as if it was her right! A strange double vision overcame Tulkhan. He saw Imoshen as a Ghebite male would view her. Once he would have thought her an ignorant female who had no right to question his authority. Now he knew she was not only trained in matters of state and battle tactics, but her T’En gifts gave her the ability to manipulate True-people.

  Fear of her Dhamfeer powers rippled through him. Why did she even bother to argue? When would Imoshen stop arguing and simply wrench control from him? A bitter smile made him grimace.

  But he answered her question. “Gharavan is going back to an empire made up of conquered nations. My father held it together by the sheer force of his personality. It will take only one uprising for the whole house of cards to come crashing down. If I am lucky Gharavan will spend the rest of his life losing the countries I annexed since I became General of my father’s army.”

  He watched her face, saw her assess his words and nod slowly. “Very well.”

  So she was convinced, for now.

  He was banishing one weak enemy, but he still faced internal threats, Reothe and his rebels and ... he watched Imoshen as she absently cleaned her blade and resheathed it.

  Dare he trust her? No, after this night he dare not turn his back on her.

  It galled him to see how, unlike him, his own people turned to her. Even his wounded men limped or were carried to the Dhamfeer for treatment. She simply accepted this as her duty, sending Kalleen for her medicants.

  Broodingly, Tulkhan watched Imoshen go about her self-appointed task as healer. She was as much a threat to him as Reothe. Other, unknowable, she could befuddle his mind, plant thoughts in his head, even confuse a hall full of people with her shape-shifting.

  She was a dangerous enemy but a good ally. It was wiser to keep her close, to observe her.

  He realized with a jolt that Gharavan had been right. While Imoshen stood at his side the island would remain behind him.

  Wharrd returned to report no sign of the Vaygharian. Tulkhan shrugged his shoulders, easing his bruised body and tried to concentrate. There was so much to do. Events had forced him to lay claim to Fair Isle for himself.

  Grim determination seized him. All his life he had served his father as the first son of his second wife. He had taken pride in his skills as a general. He had sought to win his father’s respect by his service and what had it led to? This debacle. Now he served no one. He was his own man. His hands tightened on his sword hilt. This island was his, and what he took—he held.

  Imoshen tended the wounded until she was so weary she could hardly think. Each time she closed a wound she exerted a little push to help the skin knit, adding a little warming glow that would close off the bleeding and fight infection. It was instinctive, something she had done in the past with an effort. One part of her mind marveled at the growth in her gift, or at least in her ability to control it.

  But she was also physically exhausted after lying awake all night, shivering with cold and dread. The mental effort to maintain the deception in Gharavan’s form had taken every fiber of her being. Numbly, she regretted the lost opportunity. She might have won them over, fooled the king’s men and had the Vaygharian executed all without bloodshed if Gharavan hadn’t escaped.

  She should have had him killed. But the fact that he was General Tulkhan’s half-brother had stayed her hand. The General’s loyalty was sadly misplaced but it sprang from his true heart and she’d had to respect that.

  Her hands trembled as she straightened and sensed Tulkhan’s piercing eyes on her. He looked distant, brooding. Suspicious, even?

  The thought was unwelcome. Why should he be suspicious of her? Hadn’t she stood by him? Hadn’t she proved more trustworthy than his own flesh and blood? Why then, was he standing there in the shadows tight-lipped, the planes of his face taut with tension?

  She tried to put herself in his place, not literally since she knew he didn’t like her invading his mind, but figuratively.

  In one night General Tulkhan had lost his half-brother, his generalship, his very place in the world. But he had laid claim to Fair Isle. That gave him a purpose, yet the freshly taken island was seething with rebellion. His hold was a fragile thing. Was he capable of holding Fair Isle?

  For one terrible moment Imoshen again wondered if she had made the right choice. After all, Reothe was one of her own kind. True, his T’En gifts were greater than hers and she feared his single-minded determination. But he had never threatened her personally. Back before this invasion he had been kind to her when she was nothing but a gauche child-woman out of her depth in the Royal Palace.

  Reothe had even risked his life to rescue her from the Ghebite army at Landsend Abbey. He did not know she did not want to be rescued. Her choice to stay at Tulkhan’s side for the sake of her people still seemed the right decision. But was it?

  It was the old dilemma. If only the Aayel were here to advise her!

  “That’s the last of them, my Lady,” Kalleen said, her voice breaking with weariness. But she would let none other stand at Imoshen’s side.

  Imoshen felt guilty. She took the girl’s small golden brown hand in her own. “You saved my life this night and I won�
��t forget it. Is there anything I can do for you or your family?”

  Imoshen winced as Kalleen stiffened, offended.

  “I did not do it for gain, Lady T’En!”

  “I know.” Imoshen smoothed her hand absently. “But we can’t eat principles. Give it some thought. You’re tired, so am I. Tired beyond thought. We’ll rest now.”

  “No.” Tulkhan stepped forward. “Send warm water to your mistress’s room, Kalleen. See that she is dressed as befits her station.”

  Imoshen was made aware of her men’s breeches, the grime and blood on her hands and clothes. She stiffened. If Tulkhan didn’t approve of her that was his problem! But what was he planning? “Why can’t I rest?”

  “I must ride to the capital. The army awaits and if I don’t lay claim to it my half-brother or that Vaygharian may well stir up trouble.”

  “Kinraid is probably riding the fastest horse he could steal to the coast.” She grinned. But Tulkhan was right. The army was leaderless and probably rife with rumor. Now was the moment for him to take command. “Very well. You go to the capital and secure the army.”

  She felt him study her face and wondered what he was looking for.

  “You’re coming with me,” he said.

  “But there is work for me here. The township is still being built. As the winter tightens its grip more people flock here every day looking for food and shelter. I cannot leave my people when they need me.” Imoshen saw his closed expression. “You must go to T’Diemn and assume command of the army, see to it that they are settled in for the winter, that there is enough food for everyone and the soldiers are occupied so they don’t cause trouble for the townsfolk during the idleness of deep winter. But you don’t need me to—”

  “I do.”

  Imoshen laughed. “What for?”

  Wharrd returned to tell his General that the king and his men were about to leave.

  Tulkhan nodded. His hand slipped around Imoshen’s upper arm. “Kalleen, go fetch your lady’s white fur cloak. And I’ll need my cloak, too. Wharrd, have our horses saddled—”