THE SHADOWLORD

by Charlotte Boyett-Compo

  "Kafele, Your Grace," the servant replied. "Sir Tarsis has employed me as your helper."

  Tarsis winced, and when Jaelan turned a baleful eye to the retired warrior, he merely sighed. "You don't have a valet, so consider Kaffie as such."

  "Kaffie," Jaelan repeated. His shoulders slumped in defeat, for he knew it would do no good to argue with Tarsis. "Don't need a prophets-be-damned valet."

  "Then consider me a friend, Your Grace," Kafele suggested.

  Jaelan inspected the servant and saw no duplicative gleam in the young man's eye. About the same age as the Shadowlord, he bravely met the steady gaze of his master without cringing. Jaelan liked that.

  "I'm having trouble walking, friend Kaffie. May I lean on you?"

  Kafele nodded and braced himself as Jaelan placed a heavy grip on his shoulder.

  Tarsis put the palm of his hand to his only ear and slapped it a few times. "Did I hear Jaelan Ben-Ashaman asking for help?"

  "I'm hungry, old man," Jaelan said, reaching the bathing chamber door. "Make yourself useful and have food brought."

  "No amount of food is going to put the steel in your shaft if you're thinking to do a little slap and tickle with the lass."

  "Go away!" Jaelan released Kafele's shoulder. He weaved his way into the bathing room and slammed the door in the servant's face.

  Kafele looked at Tarsis.

  "He'll be all right," Tarsis assured. "Ask the cook to prepare broth and hot coffee, perhaps some pudding. Don't bring back anything he'll need to poop out any time soon. Sitting ain't going to be something he's going to want to do for a while, whether he realizes it or not. Understand?"

  "Aye, Sir Tarsis." Kafele hurried to do the warrior's bidding.

  Tarsis walked to the door and tapped lightly. "You alive, boy?"

  "Aye," came the muffled reply.

  "Need help?"

  "Not from you."

  Tarsis grinned. "Need anything?"

  "Your head on a pike?" Jaelan grumbled.

  "Ain't gonna happen." When the door opened, Tarsis looked into the pain-glazed eyes of his former pupil "Bad, is it, son?"

  "I feel as though I'm lying on a bed of red-hot coals."

  "You still determined to walk down to the seraglio and bring back the Lady?" Tarsis asked, worry rife in his husky voice.

  "I need her." Jaelan met his mentor's steady gaze. "I'll feel better with her here."

  Tarsis nodded. "I could fetch her myself."

  "It is my duty," Jaelan said, moving into the room. He gripped Tarsis' shoulder to steady himself. "I've left her there too long as it is."

  "She'll understand."

  "Help me get dressed."

  The old warrior looked at his naked protégé. "I rather like the idea of you striding about the halls of Abbadon in all your bare-arse glory." He winked. "Gehenna and Jahannum would appreciate the sight."

  Jaelan smiled for the first time in nearly a week. When he looked at the leather britches and black silk shirt Tarsis plucked from the closet, he shuddered. "There's no way in hell I can put those on."

  "You want your izars?"

  Jaelan thought of the close-fitting loincloth that wrapped around the waist and between the legs. "I can't abide thinking of being bound in any way."

  Tarsis understood and reached for a long, straight-cut, black cotton robe only Shadowlords were allowed to wear. He bunched it up, then eased it over Jaelan's head, holding his breath as the Shadowlord lifted his arms to thrust them through the scarlet-banded embroidered sleeves.

  Jaelan gasped as the lightweight robe settled on his back. "Do I have any flesh left?"

  "Precious little that isn't a roadmap of scars, son."

  After gathering his strength, Jaelan sat carefully at the table, keeping his back ramrod straight. Though hungry, he doubted what he craved would be put before him. "So, it was Maiden's Briar?"

  Tarsis cocked his head. "You were aware enough to hear us talking?"

  "I couldn't move...but I was aware."

  "I feared as much."

  Jaelan glanced at the door as Kafele returned with a tray. He frowned at the meager variety. Though he sighed, he did not protest. He drained the cup of broth, then scraped the bowl of pudding until Tarsis bid him stop. He finished with the hot, steaming coffee, wishing he had more.

  "Keep that down and I'll have mutton and squash prepared for the evening meal," Tarsis said. "You want your sandals?"

  "I want to feel the cold stone against my feet," Jaelan replied, standing.

  Aluino returned and leaned with his arms folded against the doorjamb. "The robe's a good idea."

  "Hides his dangly, at any rate," Tarsis said.

  "Don't be here when I return," Jaelan ordered.

  "You mean we can't watch you fumbling around with the pretty Amazeen?" Aluino joked.

  "Leave," Jaelan said between clenched teeth. "Now."

  Tarsis motioned Kafele to join him, and the three men moved into the hall. The old warrior looked at Jaelan. "If you need us, will you send the Lady?"

  Jaelan didn't reply. He just looked at Tarsis, who shook his head. He watched until they turned the bend in the corridor and disappeared from sight.

  Leaning his head against the cool door panel, Jaelan closed his eyes and willed the agonizing pain to subside. Fever still rode him like a brutal master, and even though the lightweight robe billowed around him, it added to the heat being generated by the poison pulsing through his system. His headache had grown worse; bright squiggles of light lurked at the corner of his vision. With a long, weary sigh, he lifted his sweating head and started down the corridor.

  * * * *

  Aradia looked up from a book as Sulaimon entered her chambers. His broad ebony face looked stern, so she laid aside the tome.

  "His Grace the Shadowlord has sent word he is coming for you," he stated in his deep bass. "You will ready yourself to accompany him."

  After jumping to her feet, Aradia rushed to him. "He is better?"

  Sulaimon inclined his head. "It would appear so, Milady." He looked her up and down, and the frown on his face grew harsher. "He will not approve of the way you are dressed."

  "He'd not want me parading around outside the walls in that transparent gauze, either."

  Sulaimon pursed his lips. "Perhaps not. Lord Jaelan is a private man. He--"

  A bell sounded deep in the recesses of the seraglio.

  The Harem Master bowed his head. "Your husband has arrived, Milady." He swept a hand toward the door.

  Her heart racing, Aradia hurried toward the door, only to be brought up short by the gruff clearing of Sulaimon's throat. She turned.

  "Remember your husband's status at Abbadon, Milady. He is greatly feared and rightly so. It would not do for you to fling yourself into his arms, for it would embarrass him."

  "I understand." Aradia made to keep walking, but when Sulaimon again cleared his throat, she stopped, put her hands on her hips, and lowered her head in exasperation. "What else?"

  "Walk behind him, not at his side. Show him respect and defer to him at all times when in the public eye. Make no comment on his condition until you are in the privacy of his chambers."

  "His condition?"

  Sulaimon rolled his eyes. "Think you I do not know what that gossiping birdling Nefousi told you regarding what occurred at the Temple? She may think she hides her tattling from me, but she does not. Every woman here is aware of what happened to the Shadowlord."

  "And what do they say of it?"

  He shrugged. "Some think he deserves any pain that comes his way, but there are those who believe his sacrifice is most romantic."

  Aradia stared into his eyes. "What do you think, Sulaimon?"

  "I think a man who would bare his back to the executioner's lash to keep the woman he has chosen, is a man to be admired, Milady."

  Once more the bell sounded.

  Sulaimon hissed beneath his breath. "We are keeping that man waiting, and that is not good! Come, Lady!" He fanned
his hand at Aradia, motioning her to hurry.

  The closer she got to the thick doors, the more nervous she became. Her palms oozed sweat, and her heart pounded. She schooled her features not to show the excitement racing through her, but she knew she'd never be able to hide her thoughts from the Shadowlord.

  As the doors opened, Aradia came to a stop, holding her breath, biting her lip, her hands clasped in front of her. When she saw Jaelan, his face impassive, his eyes boring into hers, she felt weak in the knees. Sulaimon put a hand on her back and pushed her toward her husband.

  "Bow your head," he urgently whispered.

  Aradia didn't question the command. She lowered her head as she came to stand before Jaelan.

  "You are well, Milady?" he asked, cupping her chin with his hand and lifting her head.

  Though otherwise pale, his cheeks looked flushed, and a fine sheen of sweat dotted his face. Aradia saw pain glazing his topaz eyes, and it hurt her to the core of her being. Her bottom lip trembled. When he smoothed his thumb over her mouth, tears brightened her eyes.

  "I am well, Milord." She felt the heat of his high fever along his dry palm. Her gaze searched his. She started to ask how he fared, but he shook his head.

  "Are you ready to leave this place?" he asked.

  "Aye, Milord!"

  His lips twitched. "Harem Master, you have my appreciation for caring so well for my lady-wife."

  Sulaimon made the sign of obeisance, swirling his index finger from forehead to chest. "It was my honor to attend Her Grace, Lord Jaelan."

  Jaelan swept his scrutiny down his wife's attire, then locked eyes with her. "You look comfortable, Milady. The garments become you."

  Aradia cast Sulaimon a knowing look and grinned. "I am comfortable, Milord, and I am glad you approve."

  Jaelan took her hand and pulled her closer. Lowering his head, he brushed his lips against her ear. "Gloating does not become you, aziza. Behave."

  Gripping her husband's strong fingers, she reveled in the look he gave her as he stepped back, drawing her with him. He tucked her hand into the crook of his arm.

  "You will walk beside me, Lady?"

  Aradia giggled. "Should I not walk behind you, Your Grace?"

  "Never." He looked at Sulaimon and shocked the dark man by winking.

  * * * *

  As the Shadowlord and his Lady meandered down the corridor, the Harem Master stood watching with two seraglio guards.

  "He walks slowly," one guard remarked.

  "Aye, but neither you nor I would be up and about this soon after such an ordeal," Sulaimon said.

  "He is not human," the other guard said.

  Jaelan Ben-Ashaman stopped at the end of the long corridor. For a moment, he looked back at the men before escorting his lady out of sight.

  "No," Sulaimon said with a shudder, "he is not."

  Chapter 2

  * * *

  He held her hand, the grip growing more painful with each step they climbed. Aradia made no protest, though his strong grasp crushed her fingers. She sensed how hard it was for him as he strained going up the stairs. He sucked in each breath through his nose, his jaws clenched.

  "You know what happened at the Temple?" he said, his words raspy.

  "Aye."

  "I am ill, aziza. My head is nigh to exploding."

  She reached out to bid him stop. When he did, she placed her hand against his cheek. He pressed his face against her palm, and the tears she had tried so hard to keep at bay spilled over her lashes.

  "I don't know how much longer...I can stay conscious." He hunkered on the stairs, gasping in agony.

  She knelt beside him. "Tell me what to do, beloved."

  The word brought up his head. He searched her eyes and delved lightly into her thoughts. What he found brought a quiver to his lips. "One more...flight up. Tarsis and Aluino...will be there."

  Aradia took the stairs two at a time, grateful more than ever for the pantaloons that allowed her freedom of movement. Warriors gaped as she ran down the corridor, calling for Sir Tarsis and Lord Aluino.

  "'Lui! 'Lui!" several men shouted.

  One hurried to the Diabolusian's door and banged.

  "What the hell is all the commotion?" Aluino bellowed as he threw open his chamber door. When he saw Aradia racing toward him, his eyes widened. "What's wrong?"

  "Come, warrior!" She grabbed his arm.

  "Where is he?" he asked, shaking free of her punishing grip.

  "On the stairs. He has one of his headaches."

  Aluino cursed and rushed ahead of her, shooting down the stairs. By the time Aradia reached them, Aluino had the Shadowlord in his arms, climbing the steps.

  "Run ahead, wench," Aluino ordered, shifting an unconscious Jaelan higher in his grasp. "His room has the black doors. Go into the bathing chamber. You'll find a clearly marked bottle of tenerse in the cabinet."

  "Shouldn't we ask a Healer if--"

  "Jaelan would turn me inside out if I sent for one. Do as I say. The tenerse will help the headache and the pain in his back."

  By the time Aluino brought Jaelan's limp body into the room, Aradia stood beside the bed. With the servant, Kafele's, help, they had turned back the covers, plumped the pillows, and lit a scented candle on the table, beside which she had placed the bottle of medicine.

  "There won't be any seduction done here tonight," Aluino snorted as he laid Jaelan on the bed and turned him onto his belly. The Shadowlord's long brown hair fanned the pillow. Aluino drew a limp strand from Jaelan's damp face.

  "What can I do?" Kafele asked.

  "Get a blade and let's cut away the robe." Aluino ran a hand through his thick black curls. "I'm getting tired of cutting off this slacker's clothing."

  "Then give me the blade and I'll do it!" Aradia snapped and reached for the blade Kafele held toward Aluino.

  The warrior batted away her hand. "Get out of here, wench."

  Aradia's chin lifted. "This is my chamber, too, you revolting greaser! I will stay!"

  Kafele moved to the bed to do the job himself. Starting at the hem, he eased the cutting edge carefully upward, the sharp blade slicing effortlessly through the fabric.

  "Make yourself useful and get a basin of water," Aluino ordered Aradia.

  "You can't wash his back! You'll rub the Maiden's Briar into--"

  "To cool his face, arms, and legs, you stupid cow. He's burning up with fever." He took a menacing step toward her. "Do what I told you!"

  Aradia's eyes narrowed, but she spun on her heel and marched into the bathing chamber. Her face burned when she overheard Aluino tell the servant that you had to keep a woman in her place in order to maintain peace.

  "Peace, my ass!" She poured water into a basin, found a soft cloth, and dropped it into the liquid. Spying the chamber pot, she was tempted to fill it and throw it into the Diabolusian's smirking face. "But it wouldn't contain water if I did," she grumbled.

  Aluino barely glanced up when she returned. "I shouldn't have spoken to you in that way."

  "No, you should not have!"

  "Jaelan will not be pleased that I did, Lady." Aluino ducked his head. "I offer you my apology."

  Aradia sniffed. "You're worried about your friend and that's understandable. I don't forgive you, but neither will I hold it against you."

  Aluino sighed. "That's better than a poke in the eye with a sharp stick, I suppose."

  "Or a face full of piss," she mumbled, handing him the basin.

  Kafele heard the remark and smiled. He severed the robe to the neckline, taking his time, obviously fearful of material being stuck to the Shadowlord's back. He started to work on the right sleeve.

  "You're being very gentle with my husband, Kaffie," Aradia said. "I appreciate your help."

  The servant blushed as he headed to the other side of the bed. "It is my honor to care for the Shadowlord, Your Grace."

  Aluino reached for the section of severed material closest to him and frowned. "Damn!"

  "What?"
Aradia asked.

  "The garment's stuck to his flesh." Aluino tried easing it away from the skin, but snatched away his hand when Jaelan groaned.

  "Move aside, warrior," Aradia ordered. After pushing him away, she took a deep breath and grasped the two sections of neckline. She waited until Kafele had finished severing the material of the left sleeve, then jerked the sections apart.

  Jaelan's eyes flew open. A hard shudder rippled down his body. His gasp of pain as his fingers dug into the pillow stopped Aradia's breath. His chest arched from the mattress, his arms went rigid, then he collapsed with a whimper. A blush of shame crept into his sweaty face. Another shudder gripped him and he squeezed his eyes shut. "By the Prophet that hurt, 'Lui..."

  Aradia stared in horror at the destruction of her husband's back. Though she'd seen similar marks on him in Diabolusia, that had been long ago, and there had been no connection between her and the grimy, emaciated man whose life she had saved. Now, a connection existed, one that grew deeper by the minute. Seeing what had been done to him because of her drove Aradia to her knees. She covered her face with her hands and wept.

  Aluino hunkered beside her, putting a supportive arm around her shoulders. "Lady, you did what I could not. You did what had to be done."

  Overcome with guilt, she rocked back and forth. "I hurt him..."

  "Aradia," Jaelan whispered.

  She raised her head and saw a gentle smile on her husband's face.

  "Come lie beside me."

  She frantically shook her head. "No, warrior. No!"

  He sighed. " 'Lui, pick her up and deposit her by me."

  The Diabolusian grinned. "With pleasure, amigo." Chuckling, he started to scoop Aradia from where she knelt.

  She scampered out of his reach, warding him off with an outstretched arm and casting him a dangerous look. "Keep your greasy hands to yourself, warthog!"

  Aluino looked at his palms, then held them out to her. "They're not greasy, wench. I washed them this morning," he said in a voice that pretended hurt.

  "Come lie beside me," Jaelan repeated. "I need you, Lady."

  Cautiously, she climbed on the wide mattress and sat facing her husband.