Lord of the Shadows

by Jennifer Fallon

  Marqel looked up at Kirsh, her eyes streaming silent, crystal tears. “She speaks of your father,” she told him in a strangled whisper. “She is joy. She is sadness.”

  “Does she say anything useful?” Rudi insisted.

  He's going to pay for using that tone with me.

  “She speaks of your father's faith,” she said to Kirsh, ignoring Rudi and everyone else in the cavern. “And of … betrayal.”

  Kirsh looked shocked. “The Goddess thinks my father betrayed her?”

  “Not your father. Someone else.” Marqel shook her head and looked at Rees. “She speaks of a brother. And a sister.”

  “A sister?” Rees asked in confusion. “I have no sister.”

  “Your brother's sister?” she ventured, as if she was just as confused. “She speaks of the false redeemer. And the girl-child he intends to use to usurp her power.”

  “And does this girl-child have a name?” Rudi asked, sounding even more incredulous.

  Before Marqel could answer, Rees glanced at Kirsh, who nodded grimly.

  “Melliandra Thorn.”

  Marqel looked at Kirsh in surprise. “You know of whom the Goddess speaks?”

  She didn't think he knew about Mellie Thorn. In fact, her whole plan was based on the assumption that he didn't. Marqel was supposed to reveal it to him… another vital piece of information she could only have learned from the Goddess; the proof that the Goddess confided in her. Then she realized this was even better. If Kirsh knew about Mellie Thorn and thought that Marqel didn't … well, it just made her story that much more plausible.

  “Dirk's half-sister by Johan Thorn and Lexie Seranov,” Rees explained to the others in the cavern. “Eryk let it slip while we were in Bollow.”

  “I wish I could interpret her words more… clearly, my lord, but she speaks of great danger. She fears for her people. She fears that some will be easily led into false beliefs.” Marqel turned her attention back to Kirsh. “I'm sorry, Kirsh. She speaks of Misha as if he has already turned from her path…” She wiped her eyes again, and realized that it wasn't her brilliant acting that was bringing on the tears, it was the thickening smoke from the pyre.

  “What do you expect?” Rudi asked with concern. “What … with the false redeemer advising him?”

  Kirsh was too disturbed to notice the insolence in the questions of the elder Shadowdancer. He nodded in agreement, taking Rudi's word at face value. And then coughed and looked up. The smoke seemed trapped above the pyre and was billowing downward at an alarming rate. Rudi looked up, too, and then smiled faintly at the young prince.

  “Perhaps, if the High Priestess is willing,” Rudi suggested, “she might finish her discussion with the Goddess outside? It would be a pity if we are all asphyxiated before she can tell us what the Goddess wants of us, wouldn't it?”

  n the days following the announcement of Antonov's death, Jacinta D'Orlon found herself growing quite fond of the new Lion of Senet, particularly when Misha called her to his study about a week after Dirk left for Omaxin for a private meeting. His pretext was clearing up some minor details over the withdrawal of the Senetians from Dhevyn. In the course of the discussion, he quite deliberately let it slip that her mother was due the following day to escort her home. Misha then suggested, with a perfectly innocent expression, that as the Queen of Dhevyn's envoy, Jacinta might be interested in carrying some urgent dispatches north to Omaxin on his behalf, and that once in the north, she might wish to stay for a time. The High Priestess was a Dhevynian citizen, after all, and it was only fair Senet allow the sovereign nation of Dhevyn an observer to ensure her citizens were treated according to the rules of war.

  Jacinta could have kissed him.

  It was only a temporary respite, she knew. That her mother had gone to such pains to keep the betrothal to Raban Seranov from Jacinta spoke much of Lady Sofia's determination to finally see her wayward daughter wed. And it was a torment beyond words to send her north for the protection of the only man she actually wanted, who was also—rather inconveniently— the only man on Ranadon she probably couldn't have. But Jacinta was desperate, and as the sailors claimed, any port in a storm was a welcome one.

  Jacinta squared her shoulders determinedly as they neared Omaxin. The army was larger than she expected, spread out between the low foothills surrounding the ruins in a manner that looked rather haphazard to her inexperienced eye. Although Jacinta had never been in a war camp before, she wondered, for a moment, if Dirk had any idea what he was doing. He wasn't a soldier and looking around, she thought his lack of expertise seemed painfully obvious.

  Quailing a little under the speculative gazes of the soldiers she rode past, they entered the camp just south of Omaxin. Did they think her a camp follower? Some floozy looking for a quick profit? The Queen of Dhevyn's envoy unconsciously lifted her chin, as if her regal demeanor was enough to herald her intentions as honorable and that she rode into camp as a diplomat, not a courtesan.

  Misha had sent her with only a small escort, understanding speed was more important than comfort. They had ridden hard from Avacas. It was over a month now since Dirk had headed north with the army sent to force Kirsh to surrender.

  One of Misha's captains came out to greet them as they rode into the center of the camp. He looked surprised to find a woman in the party, even more so to find a Dhevynian of noble birth.

  “My lady?”

  “Where is the Lord of the Suns?”

  “He's not here, my lady.”

  “Where is he?”

  “Er …I believe he's gone for a walk.”

  He's probably hiding, she thought, tempted to ask the man if they'd checked down by the lake. Perhaps he was skipping stones again.

  “Which direction did he go?”

  “That way, my lady,” the captain replied, pointing north.

  “Then I shall find him myself,” she declared, kicking her horse forward before anybody could stop her.

  She found Dirk not far from the camp, standing on a rise that gave him a good view of the ruins. She dismounted and tied the reins of her mount to a straggling tree branch and climbed up the small hillock toward him.

  He heard her footsteps and turned to see who was disturbing him. If he was surprised to see her, she couldn't tell. It must mean he was worried, she thought. She'd noticed that about Dirk. The tougher things got, the more he shut down, as if by not letting anything out, nothing that hurt could get in.

  Jacinta stopped for a moment. “Everybody's looking for you.”

  He wordlessly offered her his hand and pulled her up the last few steps. She stopped when she reached the small plateau and looked out over the ruined city. It was the first time she'd seen the ruins and they left her speechless. She had no idea they would cover such a large area. No idea that up here a city of hundreds of thousands of people must have once thrived. The small rise was high enough to afford a grand view of Omaxin, which brought another, rather more urgent thought to mind.

  “Is it wise, standing up here silhouetted against the sun, such an obvious target?”

  “For me to be a target, Kirsh's forces would also have to be in range,” he pointed out with a shrug. “It's safe enough.”

  “It must have been a truly impressive city once.”

  “Neris Veran claimed this place was the most valuable thing on Ranadon.”

  “He's probably right. Perhaps …”

  “Perhaps what?”

  “I was just thinking… perhaps, when all this is done, you could come back here and study it. Really study it, I mean. There must be so much down in those ruins we could learn.”

  Dirk shrugged. “I'd like that. But I don't think it's possible. I'm not sure if the Lord of the Suns can take time off to indulge his curiosity.”

  “Then do it officially. Belagren had people up here for years, didn't she?”

  “They were simply trying to break through the Labyrinth.”

  “But you have a precedent, my lord. That's half the battle, ri
ght there.”

  He studied her face in the ruby light of the second sun. Feeling his gaze on her, she turned to look at him. “You're worried about what's going to happen, aren't you?”

  “Is it that obvious?”

  “Not to others, I think. You've a knack for keeping your thoughts secret.”

  “Not from you, apparently.”

  “Ah, but then I'm not like everyone else.”

  Dirk didn't answer her for a moment. “Kirsh is far better at warfare than I am. I'm not a general, Jacinta.”

  “You are today.”

  He looked at her curiously. “You think I can win this?”

  “I don't think you have a choice, Dirk. If Marqel is allowed to gather people to the banner of the High Priestess, then all you've done, all you've worked for, will have been for nothing. You need to put an end to her and you must do it quickly, while the world is still reeling from the revelation her visions were a sham. The longer it takes, the more time people will have to fall back into their old beliefs. And you need to stop Kirshov, too. Senet will be torn apart if brother is pitted against brother in a religious civil war.”

  He laughed sourly.

  “Did I say something funny?”

  “Brother against brother.”

  She looked at him curiously.

  “Rees is down there with Kirsh,” he explained. “I'm here leading Misha's army against his brother, and my brother is down there with Kirsh, ready to fight me.”

  Jacinta knew Rees Provin had gone north with Kirsh. Faralan had told her when she stopped overnight in Bollow on her way here. But until now, the full implication of his presence in Omaxin hadn't really dawned on her.

  “Speaking of your brother,” she said. “Did you know you're an uncle? Faralan had a boy. She named him Wallin.”

  Dirk smiled briefly, but it was a perfunctory smile, one of politeness rather than genuine pleasure. “That would have pleased my father.”

  “Your … oh, you mean Duke Wallin.”

  “I still think of him as my father, you know …I mean, I know Johan Thorn sired me, but he's little more than …I hardly knew him.”

  “I think I understand.”

  “I'm glad somebody does. I'm not sure I do.”

  She smiled. “I think you're too hard on yourself, my lord. You've done a lot of good since you decided to take a hand in the fate of the world. The Shadowdancers are in ruins. Dhevyn is free. There will be no more Landfall sacrifices…”

  Dirk glanced at her, his expression grim. “You only say that because you don't know half the things I've done.”

  “I know what you've done for Alenor. That makes you more hero than monster in my opinion.”

  “Then I treasure your opinion, my lady.”

  Jacinta looked away, a little uncomfortable with his scrutiny.

  As if he understood her awkwardness, Dirk suddenly smiled. “I keep asking myself how I ever wound up trying to prevent Senet being torn apart. I can't recall that being part of the plan.”

  “We all do things we never imagined we'd do.” She returned his smile, a little shyly. “I can't recall ever imagining I'd follow the Lord of the Suns to war.”

  “Which raises a rather interesting question—what are you doing here, my lady?”

  “I'm here to observe your conduct of this conflict,” she replied simply.

  “Whose idea was that?”

  “Misha's, actually.”

  “I see. I thought you were getting married?”

  “Am I?” she asked. “That's news to me. My mother hasn't told me anything about it. I wonder if that means she was disappointed when she arrived in Avacas and discovered I'd already left for Omaxin.”

  Dirk seemed amused. “You've run away, haven't you?”

  “Don't be ridiculous! I am merely bringing you dispatches and staying to ensure that you treat Marqel with the courtesy due any Dhevynian citizen.”

  “Then what are you going to do when I strangle her with my bare hands?”

  “I'm a well-bred lady, my lord. I'd probably have to swoon and look away and swear afterward I never saw a thing.”

  Dirk looked back at the ruins where Kirsh's forces were gathered, preparing for the battle. Their campfires spread like pinpoints of danger in the red light.

  “He'll kick my arse, you know,” Dirk warned. “Kirsh is a professional soldier. He spent his whole life preparing for this moment. And Rees is no slouch, either, when it comes to a fight.”

  “Then why fight them at all? Why not meet with Kirsh? Ask him to surrender?”

  “I don't think the word surrender is in Kirsh's vocabulary.”

  “Maybe not,” she conceded. “And I know Kirsh can be an idiot, but he must realize that the only end to this is the complete devastation of Senet. If you can't appeal to his reason, maybe you could appeal to his honor.”

  “Kirsh's honor is half the reason we're in this mess. Do you really think he'd agree to a meeting to discuss surrender?”

  “You won't know unless you ask.”

  Dirk thought about it for a moment and then he nodded. “Maybe we can sort this out without any more bloodshed.”

  “I'm sure you will,” she told him.

  Dirk smiled. “I wish the rest of the world had your faith in me.”

  “Misha does. Tia's not particularly fond of you though, is she?”

  “We were close once,” he admitted carefully.

  “How close?”

  “That's none of your business.”

  “Oh,” she said with a knowing little smile. “That close, eh?”

  Dirk looked at her. “Does that bother you?”

  “Should it?”

  “You keep answering my questions with more questions.”

  “I must have picked up that irritating habit from you. Did you know Misha intends to marry her?”

  “Yes.”

  “It's going to cause quite a stir, the Lion of Senet marrying the heretic's daughter. Still, Misha doesn't seem afraid to make unpopular decisions. He's withdrawn all the Senetians from Dhevyn, too.”

  “That was none of my doing. It was Tia who made him promise to do that as soon as he had it in his power.” He sighed and looked down over the ruins again. “Sometimes I think I should have just left well enough alone.”

  “What to do you mean?”

  “Misha was being poisoned by the Shadowdancers. Even if I hadn't lifted a finger that might have eventually been discovered. Antonov's faith would have been just as rattled to learn of it. The Shadowdancers might have been destroyed anyway. And I wouldn't be standing here trying to figure out how I'm suppose to win a battle against my own brother and a man I once counted as my best friend.”

  “You don't know that,” she sad, trying to reassure him. “Besides, there's no point dwelling on what might have been.”

  “Not much point at all,” he agreed.

  His voice was filled with regret. Jacinta was certain he wasn't talking about bringing down the Shadowdancers, either.

  “We should get back to the camp.”

  He shrugged. “There's no point hiding now, I suppose. If you found me, it won't take the others long.”

  “I was half expecting to find you down by the lake, actually. Skipping stones.”

  He smiled. It was the first genuine smile she'd seen from him in quite a while. “I thought about it.”

  “I wonder what the army would have thought about that, if they'd caught you at it?”

  “I suspect it would have merely reinforced their opinion I'm a boy trying to do a job better left in the hands of a real man.”

  “You're man enough for this job, Dirk.”

  “Let's hope you still think that after the battle call is sounded,” he said.

  he army Dirk had gathered outside the ruins of Omaxin surprised Kirsh. He was alarmed by the size of it and stunned that Misha had reacted to his letter by sending an army to confront him. He'd gone to great pains to explain the oath he'd given their father. He was hurt a
nd more than a little angry with Misha's unsympathetic response.

  Didn't his brother understand the bind Kirsh was in? Didn't Misha realize he had no choice? That his oath, once given, was irrevocable?

  It would have been much simpler if Dirk had come alone, not with Misha's army at his back. If only he could have convinced Dirk he must support Marqel; that he must forget any ambitions he might have for his half-sister and support the Shadowdancers and their High Priestess, because that was what Antonov wanted. It was his dying wish. And that was what Kirsh had sworn to Antonov he would do.

  “How many men do you estimate they have?” he asked Rees. They had climbed to the top of a ruined building near the edge of the old city to view the forces sent against them. But it was hard to calculate how many were out there. Most of the army was concealed by the fold of the hills.

  “Easily as many as we have,” the Duke of Elcast estimated. “Two thousand or so. There could be a lot more. It's hard to tell with the way they've set up the camp.”

  “Misha's pulled some of the troops out of Dhevyn, then,” Kirsh remarked, thinking that was the only way his brother could have raised an army so large in such a short time.

  “He's pulled most of them out, I'd wager,” Rees suggested. “To send this many men against you.”

  “Do you think they really intend to fight, or is Misha bluffing?”

  “He's your brother, Kirsh. You can answer that question more easily than I.”

  There was little chance of it reaching a negotiated settlement, Kirsh thought. Misha wanted the Shadowdancers destroyed as much as Dirk did. And even if Dirk had been inclined to compromise, Misha was in no mood to be generous after what had been done to him.

  “It's your brother in command down there, Rees. What do you think he'll do?”

  Rees shrugged. “I've never been able to read Dirk well. Even when we were children. He was always so … different.”

  “You don't have to stay,” Kirsh offered. “It's bad enough that I'm at odds with Misha. You don't have to take sides against your brother, too. If you want to leave …”

  “My brother,” Rees said, his voice heavy with bitterness. Kirsh looked at him curiously. “He was always her favorite, you know.”