“Coward!” She wanted to spit the word into his face. Guilt weighed in her belly. This is all my fault.
Daria channeled her wrath into the defense of her people, sending more arrows speeding to their targets. She couldn’t believe how quickly a supposed ally had done what generations of seadogs had tried and failed to do—breach Seagem’s natural barriers.
The priests waste their time. Yadarius had abandoned his people. Her fury flamed at the SeaGod, stronger even than her fear, deeper than her grief, more bitter than her guilt.
She ignored the throbbing in her tired arms from hours of steady firing. She’d shoot until there were no arrows left and then throw anything at the vermin she could get her hands on, starting with the furniture in the castle.
“Daria!” Someone grasped her arm, jerking her from the side of the balcony.
She whirled on her father. In reflex, she slapped away his hand.
Iceros grabbed her shoulders and shook her, his arms strong in spite of the unsteadiness of his injured leg. Throughout the melee, he’d been on the next balcony directing the battle and using his own bow and arrows to rain havoc upon the enemy.
He pulled her inside the palace. Under his gold and iron helm, his tan skin was drawn, his lips thin with pain. “Daria, I’ve just had word. Setteff, Joshel, Cihkel…” His voice broke, and his green eyes watered.
No, no, not my brothers. But she’d known. With her othersense, she’d felt their heartline connections sever. Yet in the concentration and heat of battle, she’d managed to avoid the notice of the loss. Her knees threatened to buckle, and she clung to her father’s arm. Grief and rage tied around her throat, blocking all words more thoroughly than a noose.
Her father forced himself to speak through his obvious pain. “I’ve ordered Micfal to gather gear and saddle the horses. He’s waiting by the secret passageway. Go with him out of the city.”
Shock radiated through her. “No. I won’t leave you, or our people.”
“Yes, my daughter, you will.”
She tried to twist away. “No, let me fight!”
“If you stay, you will die…or worse.”
“Then I will die at your side.”
Pride blazed in his eyes followed by a grief so deep she almost burst into tears. He hugged her to him. “You are the light of my life, my most treasured jewel,” he murmured into her hair. “You are the hope of this house. You must flee and survive.” He leaned back to look in her face. “Vow this to me.”
The appeal in his anguished gaze cut through her anger, touching her heart. She cupped his cheek with her hand and nodded.
Iceros lifted the heavy gold chain of kingship from around his neck. From it dangled the tiny gold case containing his collapsible telescope. He dropped it over her head, the case thumping against her heart. “Take this.”
Daria fingered the case, biting her lip to stem the sadness welling inside her. Rulers of Seagem had used the monocular for generations; she knew he didn’t expect to survive the night.
Iceros embraced her again.
She closed her eyes, feeling the protection of his arms around her for the last time, absorbing the memory into her soul.
He kissed her forehead. “Now go. Hurry.”
Fighting down sobs, she grabbed her bow and arrows. With a final sorrowful look at her father, she stepped into the hall, and then ran for the secret passageway.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Daria’s in danger!
Khan’s dream abruptly shifted away from planting tomatoes in the park, to an unfamiliar landscape. He stood at the foot of a small hill, watching her emerge from a tunnel exit concealed in an artful pile of boulders. She carried a sword in one hand and with the other clutched the reins of a heavily-laden horse.
Daria led her mare down the path between the rocks. She moved with an athlete’s grace and swiftness, studying her surroundings with an alertness that showed her awareness of her peril. Her glance passed through Khan.
I must be invisible.
Once free of the boulders, she joined an older man with a long braided beard. Both were dressed in hip-length collar-less shirts and matching pants in shades of green. The sun caught the glint of gold embroidery on the cuffs and around the neckline.
The tense set of the man’s shoulders, and the way he held the sword out in front of him, showed his readiness for a fight. The man’s eagle-gaze quartered the area, but he, too, didn’t see Khan’s dream presence.
Daria looked behind, anguish on her face. Her braid slipped over her shoulder.
She needs me.
He strained to go to her, but couldn’t move.
A large castle loomed in the background, like the kind he’d seen in Scotland and Ireland, except with a sophistication those medieval edifices lacked. Smoke billowed from behind the buildings, darkening the sky with an evil aura. Doom lingered in the air, as thick as the black miasma obscuring the sky over the castle.
She turned to the man, blinking back tears, grief apparent on her face. But her shoulders remained unbowed.
The old warrior said something.
She shook her head.
The man rolled several boulders in front of the tunnel and over the path, disguising their escapeway. The rocks moved with ease, and Khan suspected they were fake. Or perhaps the older warrior was capable of performing magic. Who knew what unusual talents the people in Daria’s world possessed?
With a graceful move, she swung herself into the saddle, kneeing the horse forward. She didn’t look back and thus didn’t see the smoke billowing after her, a nebulous, sinister cloud reaching for her back.
She’s in danger.
Khan swooped to grab his weapons lying in the dirt near him, ready to vault onto Nika’s back and gallop to her. But as he seized Nika’s reins, the vision faded, leaving only gray mist.
Adrenaline pumped through his body, and longing squeezed his heart. The need to go to Daria hadn’t lessened with the ebbing of the connection.
But she’d vanished, leaving him helpless to find her.
~ ~ ~
In the stillness of the false dawn, Daria stirred within her bedroll, anxious for the darkness to clear so she could look for the flag. On the other side of the fire embers, Micfal lay rolled in his blankets. She doubted he slept, knowing from previous camping trips that he had a snore to rival the honking of couris birds heading inland for the winter.
She’d dozed off and on all night, unable to sleep from worry. Her mind kept replaying terrible images of the battle scenes, especially the deaths of her brothers. She couldn’t stop imagining what might have happened to her father and the rest of her people. Her othersense jangled with tortured visions of murder and rapine.
Somewhere in the torment of her nightmares, she’d sensed the disintegration of her heartline connection to her father. But Daria refused to believe her othersense, hoping against all knowledge to see the flag flying on the tower.
A burden heavier than stones crushed her chest, allowing her only the shallowest of breaths. A knot of unshed tears burned behind her eyes. She didn’t dare release them, for if she started to cry, Daria feared she’d weep until her very blood flowed from her eyes.
Instead, she let out her breath in a hiss, enraged with Yadarius for abandoning them. For filling her head with silly dreams and making her tumble into a stupid fantasy about love. If Khan hadn’t occupied her mind and heart, perhaps she’d have accepted Thaddis and prevented the destruction of Seagem.
How Daria wished she could erase time, and, like a wave washing away footprints from a sandy beach, return to that fateful banquet and walk a fresh path. If only I could change my no to a yes. No matter how horrible her life with Thaddis, Seagem would have remained safe. She would willingly have sacrificed herself for her family and her kingdom, rather than have Seagem and her loved ones sacrificed for her.
She reached inside her tunic to the hidden necklace, the one with the Lovestar shell that she’d never taken off. Daria yanked the chain ove
r her head, thinking to throw it away. But at the last minute she couldn’t, and leaned over and tucked it into her pack, pushing it to the bottom. Then she returned to staring at the distant palace.
The faintest hint of lavender lifted the corner of her vision. Within the hour, the light should brighten enough to see. Unable to lie still any longer, Daria sat up, trying to stretch the stiffness from her arms and back. She winced as her muscles, sore from hours of shooting, protested the movement.
A chill breeze nipped at her upper body. She threw her heavy green cloak around her shoulders, fastening the emerald-and-gold clasp, and then pulled out the gold necklace. While she waited for dawn, Daria fingered the case, anxious to use the tiny telescope.
Micfal stirred. By the time she glanced at him, he’d stepped out of his bedroll and started his yah-dar-sae, the series of salutations to the dawn. Daria looked away. For the first time since she was a tiny child, she refused to perform the traditional morning poses and prayers to Yadarius.
After a few minutes, Micfal scooped up his blankets and dropped them down next to her. He sat cross-legged, draping one of the blankets around him. “If the flag flies not, we must hasten from here.”
“No.” She knew the word was futile the moment she said it.
“There are enough who saw you alive in the palace. While our people would never willingly reveal that to Thaddis, they might be forced to betray information under torture, or to prevent harm to a loved one.“
Daria shuddered. “I have no doubt Thaddis would resort to such fiendish methods.”
“He’s already shown he’ll stop at nothing to possess you.”
Daria squinted in the direction of Seagem. “He’ll have his hands full searching the city for me.”
“Unless he wrings the information from your father or Issa.”
“They’d die first.”
“There are herbs which cause one’s tongue to babble regardless of one’s will. And the power of the Deities. Besolet must be condoning this, perhaps even aiding Thaddis.”
Daria remained silent, letting the implications of Micfal’s words sink in. They watched the edge of the amber sun peek from the horizon of the ocean. The rocky hill the weaponsmaster had chosen for their hiding place gave them a view of the land, farms, and snug homesteads checkered outside the city walls. For a moment, Daria thought the city remained shrouded in darkness, but then realized that smoke obscured her vision. She bit her lip. Thaddis must be sacking the city. Her heart thudded painfully.
She lifted the miniature telescope case from where it lay between her breasts. Unscrewing the gold top, she expanded the scope and squinted through the lens. Flames flickered through the palace windows. Bodies draped over the balconies. Smoke billowed through the roof. The highest turret remained empty. No flag fluttered its triumphant banner in the breeze.
Daria squeezed her eyes shut, and then opened them and looked again. Nothing.
Words wouldn’t come. She could only shake her head, numb down to her toes. Unlooping the chain from around her neck, she handed the instrument to Micfal. Maybe he could find what she could not.
She saw by the sorrow in his faded blue eyes that he already knew what he’d see, but Micfal looked anyway. Lowering the telescope, he closed his eyes for a moment, handing her back the instrument.
His family, no doubt, had died protecting hers. Guilt shot through her body.
She collapsed the telescope, replacing the chain around her neck, each movement an effort.
Rigidly, Micfal lowered himself to one knee, his shoulders bent with the weight of his sorrow. For a moment, tears sheened in his eyes, and she thought his lips trembled behind the cover of the braided gray-and-bronze beard. But he lifted his gaze to hers, drawing his feelings back behind a shield. She thought the skin on his face might shatter from the effort.
He unpinned the seal of office from the collar of his uniform and handed it to her. “My Queen.”
Queen! The word pierced Daria sharper than a knife. Her numbness cracked. She batted away his hand. The seal dropped out of sight in the grass. “Do I step over the bloodstained bodies of my father and brothers to take on a ruler’s title?” Her voice shook. “I have nothing to be queen of.”
“Daria.”
Daria. A lone name for a lone woman.
“Daria, we must hasten.”
She fingered the hilt of her sword. In a sharp gesture, she yanked the blade from the scabbard. She strode back and forth, her cloak swirling out behind her, needing to do something, anything, to release her fury and helplessness.
Micfal grabbed her sword arm, eying her as if fearing she’d do something rash.
“No. I gave my father my vow I’d survive.” She ground out the words. “If I die, Thaddis will win everything. But I tell you this, Micfal.” Holding the hilt of her sword with both hands, she lifted it above her head, and then drove the blade deep into the ground. “I will throw myself across my sword before I’ll let him take me.”
~ ~ ~
Khan took a break from the row of tomato seeds he’d been planting to stand and stretch his aching back. He gazed around his compound with satisfaction. Everything was safe against reptile-dogs and other things that might go bump in the night. A week of hard labor had secured the walls.
Then he’d dug irrigation ditches—shallow trenches starting from the run-off of the pool and spanning the length of the park. In the course of his burrowing, he’d discovered an extensive pipe system made of the purplish metal. He’d wasted a day trying to find some way to work the irrigation pipes before giving up. Someday, he’d get back to the puzzle.
Now he could take time for the equally arduous but far more meaningful task of planting. Early this morning, he’d poked holes for carrot seeds, planted a row of peas near one wall of the shrine and one of beans near the other. He’d set out the cuttings from the shrine. Now tomatoes. He sighed, adding scrounge wire and make cones to his ever-expanding to-do list. Luckily, he had time before the seedlings had grown enough.
In his imagination, he could see plump red shapes hanging from green vines that crawled over the wire cones he’d fashioned for them. He saw himself picking and offering one to a beautiful blonde woman.
He blinked himself back to the present. Why had he pictured a woman like her? To his knowledge, he’d never met her, but in his imagination, her presence by his side seemed so right. He needed to stop fantasizing about this unknown woman. The only lady in his vicinity was the goddess.
Khan dropped back to his knees. Humming a snatch of song, he kept his thoughts on the goddess, visualizing how pleased she’d be when this land was laden with the abundance of growing things. He pictured laying out the first fruits at the base of the statue for her blessing, and wondered what she’d think of the produce of Earth.
A shrill squeal pierced the peaceful afternoon, the agony in the cry startled Khan to his feet, before he realized he’d heard the call in his mind. He grabbed his nearby bow and quiver of arrows. Yanking one out, he nocked the arrow and scanned the vicinity.
Nika snorted and trotted over to Khan, trailing the lead rope. At the same time, a pull from the goddess caused Khan to grab Nika’s lead and run for the exit to the park. The stallion trotted beside him. Untangling the tie that fastened the gates, he pushed them open, guiding Nika through before closing them behind him.
Khan vaulted onto the horse’s broad back without even waiting to saddle up. He gathered up the reins of the hackamore and urged Nika toward the outer gates, at the same time keeping a tenuous connection with the goddess.
The sounds led him away from the direction where he’d entered the city a few weeks ago, into a maze of narrow, twisting paths between tottering ruins and humps of rock piles. He tried to absorb landmarks so he could find his way back, while at the same time keeping alert for possible dangers and following the goddess’s direction.
This part of the city, near the desert’s edge, seemed to have suffered greater damage. Few walls stood intact. I
nstead rubble, piled in sand-covered rounded heaps, was smoothed over by time. He caught sight of a clump of scraggly brown grasses tipped with pods. Good horse fodder. He made a mental note to return. But now he had to stay alert.
When mounted, some of the ancient mounds stood higher than his head, but most were between the height of Nika’s knees and Khan’s shoulder. He had greater visibility in this area, but the hillocks would be easy for the reptile-dogs to climb and, from there, launch an attack. If any of the creatures lingered in ambush, he might have trouble responding in time.
The goddess has promised warning, he reminded himself. And since she’d spurred him to respond to some kind of trouble, hopefully she’d be extra ready with an alarm.
Anguished chirps and some sucking noises came from behind the mound to the right. Dropping the knotted hackamore reins, Khan nocked an arrow in his bow. With his knees, he urged Nika to round the debris hill.
With a sharp squeal, a little monkey-like creature skittered away behind the mound. Another, crouching in a pit of dust-colored worm things, fell silent at his approach, staring at him with intelligent blue eyes that reminded him of a Persian cat.
Khan glanced around, checking for any sign of the reptile-dogs. When there was no sight or smell of them, he turned his attention to the animal in front of him.
The creature, furred with a short brown pelt, possessed the triangular face of a bat, complete with pointed teeth, but the hand it held out in entreaty resembled a monkey’s—three long fingers and an opposable thumb. Like a baby reaching for something it wanted, the animal opened and closed its fingers—a universal infant request sign to which Khan couldn’t help but respond.
“All right, all right. Let’s see if I can help you.”
The animal mewed—a pitiful sound that wrenched at Khan’s heart.
The other one peeked around the mound, chirping sounds of apparent consolation.
Khan slid off Nika, careful not to release his hold on the bow. The goddess had given no warning when he’d first looked upon the creatures, so he assumed they must be harmless. But still, even the most benign of animals could bite when scared or in pain, and this little one was probably both.
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