Return to Shanhasson

by Joely Sue Burkhart

  Before she could answer, he flipped her over so hard the stars blurred and the ground shook. Talons dug into her, one clawed foot at her throat, one of his rear feet planted on her abdomen. In a heartbeat, he could eviscerate her or rip out her throat. Her breathing quickened at the thought, but she didn’t fight him. There was no need.

  All she had to do was let her heart glow, a symbol of her love.

  Releasing a chuckling hiss of pain, he withdrew. Shadows enfolded him, his wings slithering along the ground in a dry rustle. At the edge of her glowing nimbus, he paused. “The coming darkness is not my doing. Even I would spare you that pain.”

  Dread tightened her chest. She scrambled to her feet. “What do you mean?”

  His voice echoed in the distance. “Your own Most Beloved Red calls him home to the Clouds. I take no part in this sorrow.”

  “Who?” Her heart hammered so loudly she barely heard the flap of his wings. He didn’t answer, but she knew. Screaming, she leaped into the air. “Rhaekhar!”

  Streaking through the night as a shining white dragon, she knew exactly where to go. The Tenth Camp nestled in the green cradle atop Vulkar’s Mountain. Horses whinnied in terror and galloped from her approach. Ignoring them, she landed beside the strange tree that had become their meeting place.

  “Gregar!”

  Waiting for the Shadowed Blood who’d died to keep her safe, she stared at the tree he’d called the kae'sangral. Something was wrong with it. Red leaves fluttered one by one to the ground, plopping like drops of blood, while the black leaves shriveled in her shining light. She took a step closer, and brittle leaves crunched beneath her claws.

  Not leaves, beads. Red beads, the sign of a Death Rider’s honor, a mark executed in Vulkar’s name.

  Fury and fear pulsed within her, a spreading lake of darkness. She raked the ground with her claws, tearing the green grass to bare black soil beneath.

  “Na’lanna.”

  She whirled. Shadows hung thick and deadly in the peaceful vale, but she knew he was there. Gregar was always there in the coldest Shadow. “Death Riders hunt me again.”

  “Nay, you know they do not.”

  Her heart thudded, her chest banded in iron. It must be me. It must! “I was your greatest mark! They’ve always sniffed me out. That’s why I was given Blood of my own.”

  “Your sacrifice was never sanctioned by the Great Wind Stallion.”

  If it wasn’t her, and Gregar was already dead… “Vulkar can’t have him!”

  Shadows peeled away to reveal her beloved assassin, the Shadowed Blood, Gregar. His face was ravaged with grief, his cheeks wet with sorrow. He rolled the ivory rahke back and forth across his palm. “There’s nothing I can do.”

  “You’re his Blood. You must save him.”

  “Forgive me, na’lanna.” His voice was ragged and harsh with pain. “I’m Blood no more, only one who lies in wait, wrapped in Shadow.”

  She lunged at him and knocked him off balance with her wings. Seizing him in her claws, she flattened him out on his back beneath her and leaned down, deliberately bearing her teeth. “You will save him.”

  “I can’t, not even for you. No matter how dread and grim, the Gods have a purpose. Vulkar Calls him home.”

  Deliberately, she tightened her grip on him. The dark, rich scent of caffe filled the night. The woman in her remembered licking that blood from his chest while Rhaekhar made love to her. The dragon in her only wanted to shred that fragile skin and crunch through bones until he screamed.

  “Do so if it will make you feel better.” He closed his eyes. Acceptance smoothed the lines of strain about his mouth. “I already died for you.”

  Throwing her head back, she bellowed with fury, lashing and clawing in agony. Gregar cried out, but it wasn’t a sound of pain. His eyes were swallowed with darkness, the ivory rahke in his hand, his blood thick on the air. Even the black dragon had known that blade should have been in her heart. “Do it! Put your rahke in me and end my suffering!”

  “Never.” Blood trickled out of his mouth as he smiled. “I love you too much to kill you, even to spare you this grief.”

  “You died,” she rasped. “If he dies, I won’t survive.”

  “You must. Your Lady has a purpose for you yet.”

  With a roar, she slung him aside. Every burning instinct in her dragon heart urged her to kill. The horses down in the valley; the people out on the Plains; the warriors she loved who tore her heart from her chest and trampled it into the dirt.

  Kill, kill, kill, pounded in her head, her heart.

  :Shannari, my heart.: Rhaekhar’s bond filled her mind like warm, golden sunlight. :I’m alive and well. Your fears are groundless.:

  With a vicious snarl, she tucked mental wings tight and plummeted down his bond, sliding through distance and time to slam into her warrior. She paused a moment, wings beating steady and hard within his mind. He never thought to defend himself from her and he made no attempt to drive her out. Sniffing his memories, she clawed her way to the Blood bonds tucked away in the back of his mind.

  With a long, steady pull of her wings, she soared down that bond and crashed into Khul’s nearest Blood, the one who hated her the most. She didn’t know if he could hear her. She had no blood bond with him. He’d never tasted her blood or cared one way or the other if she lived or died, but they shared a love for Khul, and they’d both tasted his blood.

  :Death Riders hunt him.: She raked her claws through Varne’s mind and she felt his body twitching in pain. Vicious pleasure filled her and she stretched her wings, hammering and battering him through his bond. :Do you hear me? Protect him! Keep him alive and well as you swore to do, or I’ll rip your heart out of your chest and eat you alive!:

  * * *

  VARNE LAY TWITCHING ON THE ground, blood leaking from his mouth and nose as though he’d been trampled by an entire herd of stampeding na’kindren. Their temporary camp was in chaos: na’kindren rearing and squealing in terror; warriors rushing about to soothe them; his twins awake from their sleep. Aware beyond their years, they hugged each other but didn’t cry, as though they knew their mother was in grave danger and they didn’t dare distract their father.

  Resisting the urge to cradle his head at the memory of wings crashing through him, Rhaekhar straightened and willed his breathing to steady, his thoughts to calm. He hardened his bond to warrior steel. :Shannari, desist at once.:

  Closing his eyes, he swore he could see her glowing light just beyond, the play of light flickering like moonlight on rippling water. Still feral, she at least stopped harming his Blood, but she felt pinned down by that bond that did not belong to her. As her panic increased, he knew she’d begin to flail and tear her way toward freedom like a wounded animal.

  Bracing himself, he held his mind and mental arms open wide. :Come back to me, na’lanna. You know where you belong.:

  As she crawled back into his mind, a rush of feathers and cold water flooded him. He gasped, shivering from head to toe as she slipped inside him. Restless and worried, she paced within him, so large and powerful he felt bruised deep inside.

  She felt his pain and shame rocked through their bond, but she couldn’t stop prowling. :They’re coming for you. I saw the beads, the red kae’als.:

  :Shhhh,: he whispered, letting the pain wash through him and away, taking some of her anxiety with it. :Is this the dragon you spoke of?:

  Confusion swamped her and she hesitated. If she’d been standing before him, she would have sagged into his arms, unable to hold herself up. Distantly, he felt Dharman cup her face in his hands, fingers digging into her cheeks, his voice ringing loudly as he called out to her. She couldn’t be fully awake and still wear this strange beastly form in their bond. :You Dreamed, na’lanna. None of it was real.:

  :The Gods speak in Dreams.: Feathers and scales melted away, leaving her shivering and huddled like a small child in the center of that large bed. Alone. She’d been sleeping alone. The thought both pleased and frustra
ted him, for he never wanted her to feel scared or guilty of her heart’s desire. :If it’s true…:

  A ragged sob tore through their bond and lodged in his heart. :Peace, na’lanna. I’m alive and well. If Varne has survived your warning, he will surely stop any Death Rider who even thinks to attempt me as a mark. Rest now, and don’t worry for me. I am not the one who has assassins crawling out from behind every last stone.:

  :Is Varne all right?:

  Rhaekhar squatted down beside his nearest Blood. Varne’s eyes were open, his face pale and shaken, yet he managed to glower. “Great Vulkar, was that Khul’lanna? How did she do that?”

  :He’s fine.: Deliberately, he laughed and wrapped his arms around her through their bond, swamping her with love and warmth. :Later, when you are curled up beside me in our tent, I want to hear all about this Dream. Now, I want you to get some sleep. All will be brighter on the morrow.:

  :If you die…: Her bond shattered with pain, as dark and vicious as Gregar’s Shadow had ever thought to be. :I can’t bear to lose you, too.:

  :You will never lose me. Did you lose Gregar?:

  Shame twisted her stomach as sharply as the Blood’s ivory rahke. :I hurt him terribly. I was so angry. He said there was nothing he could do.:

  Cold dread crept over his heart. If Gregar admitted there was nothing he could do, the formidable Shadowed Blood…then perhaps her premonition was true. :Gregar has never left you. You Dream him at will. Vulkar forbid, even if I am called home to His Clouds this very night, I, too, will wait for you to close your eyes every night. Fear not, na’lanna. Not even death can keep me from you.:

  She wasn’t reassured. They both knew that Dreams of Gregar were not as precious and wonderful as those few days he’d joined them in Khul’s blankets with both warriors’ full attention devoted to her pleasure.

  :I’ll follow as soon as I’m able. I won’t wait three days unless absolutely necessary.:

  :If that will ease your worry, then by all means, ride to me as quickly as possible.: He hesitated, heart aching with worry. Shivering, she wept silently, trying not to worry him more. :Will you not let your Blood comfort you?:

  She clutched her knees tighter to her chest, her face hidden against her legs. :I’ll consider it.:

  He didn’t press her; she felt fragile and shaken enough in his mind.

  “Is Mama all right?” Rhyra asked. “Should we go back, Papa?”

  Rhaekhar settled back down by the twins, drawing them into his embrace and lying back on his blanket. “She had a bad dream. Everything’s fine.”

  Anya yawned. “It must have been a very, very bad dream. I heard her crying for you.”

  * * *

  GRITTING HIS TEETH, DHARMAN FOUGHT to remain at his post. He’d never seen Khul’lanna look so lost and small, not even when Gregar had died. She sat shivering, huddled and weeping, so unlike the courageous, hard woman he knew so well. Every muscle in his body ached to hold her, but if he pushed, if he forced his attentions on her now, when she was vulnerable, would she ever forgive him?

  Sal shot him a pleading look, but Dharman shook his head, even while he silently begged in his mind—hoping some stray thought might slide through her bond despite her reluctance to ever listen to it. Ask, Khul’lanna, please. Let me hold you in my arms, safe and warm and loved.

  Long moments went by. All her Blood had edged closer. Jorah, Lew and Jahne stood ready to take his and Sal’s position. The others formed an outer ring, their bodies facing outward, searching for danger, but he knew they all listened, tuning toward her.

  “Jorah,” she whispered.

  Dharman twitched before he could suppress it. His jaws worked, but he said nothing. Sal made a soft noise, a half groaned breath of agony.

  The golden-haired Blood looked to Dharman, who gave him a sharp nod. The other Blood trotted to the side of the bed. “Aye, Khul’lanna?”

  “Did any of you or the servants eliminate the vial of Keldari oil that was in my bath?”

  “Nay, Khul’lanna. It’s still there.”

  “Would you fetch the vial, the smoky amber one? I need to check it.”

  Jorah trotted to the bath and returned quickly with the vial. They’d all taken turns smelling it earlier, lost in visions of her tormenting each of them with the burning fluid as she’d done to Khul. On the surface, it smelled very pleasant, a rather exotic spice, but deeper, there was a wild, musky smell that Dharman didn’t like at all. It set his teeth on edge.

  She took a long deep breath to inhale its aroma, and an unmistakable rahke of hunger twisted in her belly.

  Dharman liked that not one bit. Who exactly was this black dragon she’d Dreamed so strongly?

  She handed the vial back to Jorah. “Put this in my Plains trunk. I don’t want anyone to take it or use it by accident.”

  “As you wish, Khul’lanna.”

  She lay back on the pillows and drew the blankets up to her chin, but she still shivered. Dharman knew without asking that she felt chilled deep inside, where no blanket could warm her.

  “Dharman.”

  Relief and vicious hope surged in him so strongly he didn’t trust his voice, so he simply moved to the side of her bed.

  “Would you…hold me?”

  Before his heart beat again, he had her in his arms, her back tucked tightly against him. She held herself stiffly at first, as though he’d start thrusting against her or removing her clothing, he wasn’t sure which. He couldn’t help the erection beneath his memsha, but he politely kept his hips away from hers. Muscle by muscle, she relaxed into his arms.

  “May Sal join us?” He asked softly against her ear. “On my honor, your very life, he shall behave.”

  She gave a little nod and Sal immediately crawled onto the bed, but he paused before touching her, awaiting his orders.

  Dharman whipped out his rahke and touched the tip to his best friend’s throat. Blood impressed her as nothing else, and Sal would enjoy the threat. “You will lie with Khul’lanna for comfort and nothing else, or you’ll give her every drop of blood in your body.”

  “Aye,” Sal breathed, letting his eyes fall shut. “On my honor, I shall do exactly as Khul’lanna asks.”

  Deliberately, Dharman pricked his throat in a small wound. He sheathed the blade and Sal stretched out in front of her. He did well; he didn’t even put his hands on her. He didn’t have to.

  Khul’lanna caught the scent of his blood, wrapped both hands in his red hair, tugged him close, and planted her mouth over the wound.

  Shuddering, Sal pressed closer, tossing his head to send the rest of his heavy hair tumbling across her and onto Dharman’s arms and shoulders. He couldn’t mind, not when she enjoyed the sensation so much.

  “Sleep, Khul’lanna. I stand at the edge of your Dreams with rahke in hand. Nothing, no dragon or dread threat of Shadow shall cross your sleep again this or any night you allow me to guard at your back.”

  “Gregar…” her voice was already heavy, muffled against Sal’s chest.

  “Aye,” Dharman whispered, rubbing his cheek lightly against her shoulder. The musk of dragon still clung to her skin. Her scent as the White, or the Black’s? “If he comes, the Shadowed Blood shall pass.”

  Vulkar help him, he’d slice that dragon’s foul heart from his chest if he even thought about slithering into her Dream again.

  CHAPTER

  FIVE

  “THE KHULS ARE IMPATIENT,” DRENDON SAID. “We can’t wait much longer.”

  Rhaekhar turned toward his friend and bumped into both Varne and Pawl. With an irritated growl, he shoved them out of his way. Their protection had become so intense as to be laughable for a warrior of his prowess. Nay, an insult. They guarded him like a mother goose honking at her goslings.

  Shannari shone in his mind, her bond as sharp and determined as ever. :They guard you like my Blood guard me.:

  Although she had begun watching his every move through their bond, he didn’t mind her constant surveillance. Not when he coul
d deliberately torment her with images of what he was going to do to her as soon as she arrived. With a low rumbling growl, he pictured dragging her off her mare and carrying her directly to his tent.

  “She’s on the Plains even as we speak.” He couldn’t help the heated thickness in his voice. Vulkar help him, it had been three nights since he’d held her. Her Blood had been holding her in his stead, and as much as he wanted her safe and comforted, he would much prefer his arms around her this night, not theirs. “She ought to arrive before we eat at the fire.”

  “Good,” Drendon replied, but by the tightness around his eyes, he didn’t look happy.

  “Speak, my friend. I count on you to always be honest.”

  “Winter comes.”

  Indeed, for this being the “Summer” Gathering, it felt rather chilly this morning. Rhaekhar had actually seen his breath plume the air.

  The Plains enjoyed several years of summer weather, but each year, the period of cold strengthened until the Winter, months of blizzards so thick and vicious that their nomadic wandering across the Plains ceased. Shannari had yet to see their Winter, since it only came roughly every nine years. The last Winter right before he’d become Khul had been mild in comparison to how this one already felt.

  “Aye, it’s the ninth year. I expected it.” Rhaekhar narrowed his gaze in a hard stare. “What of it? Have the khuls somehow decided to blame my outlander Khul’lanna for the depth of the coming snows?”

  “How will she travel to her Green Lands? You said things were very bad for her this time. Assassins tried to kill her nearly each day. Her own people rebel, which required her to stay later than expected and promise to return earlier than planned. So how will you travel back and forth if the Winter is as bad as I suspect? The last thing we need is for Khul of the Nine Camps to be stranded in the Green Lands while we face the wolves at home.”

  He nodded slowly. “We’ll consider our options. If the snows are deep, she won’t be able to travel anywhere. The Green Lands may have to survive without her for awhile.”

  “Will you winter here or closer to her lands to make it easier?”