Return to Shanhasson

by Joely Sue Burkhart

  The Sha’Kae al’Dan typically didn’t settle in any one spot, much preferring to roam the hills and grazing their na’kindren at will. However, when the snows came, they often used shelters built in previous years. Here in the foothills of Vulkar’s Mountain, the winds typically kept the snows blown away from the grass so the herds could graze, and while colder, the snows weren’t as deep as to the north on the wide open Plains. “I don’t know yet, but she feels very close to her Lady here at the Silver Lake. I suspect we’ll stay here.”

  “I heard wolves this morning when I checked the na’kindren.” Drendon shivered and touched his rahke on his hip. With especially deep snows, their greatest kae’don came when predators began hunting the hampered na’kindren. “I doubled the guards on our herd.”

  “Good. Perhaps I’ll ride into the hills this day and see if I can thin the pack before the snows even begin.”

  Drendon gripped his shoulder a moment. “Be careful, Khul.”

  “Great Vulkar,” he grumbled without rancor. “You’d think I had never hunted a wolf or two in my entire life. Will it make you feel better if I take a fist of warriors to hunt these vicious beasts?”

  :Yes,: Shannari answered immediately through their bond, while Drendon nodded.

  Throwing his hands up in mock disgust, Rhaekhar stalked toward his waiting stallion. “Warriors!” Camp activity stilled, warriors standing and facing him expectantly. “Anyone who wants to hunt in the foothills, mount up!”

  With a whoop, many of them did so, whistling for mounts and gathering bows and swords. In moments, he had several fists of warriors trotting after him. So much for a nice quiet hunt. He glared at Drendon who had of course joined them, but his friend merely shrugged and grinned.

  They hadn’t ridden far when one of the scouting warriors gave a long, piercing whistle. Eager, the warriors rode in that direction. Wolf sign indeed—by the amount of scat and tracks, this hilltop was a favorite resting spot. Looking down at the Plains stretched out below, Rhaekhar felt his stomach tighten. The vast herds of the Sha’Kae al’Dan grazed directly below.

  “Split up,” he ordered, pointing at each track winding back higher into the hills. “Drendon, take the far left. Tomai, take your warriors to the right. I’ll take the middle. If you find their dens, smoke them out.”

  “Aye, Khul.”

  Resolute, the groups split. Varne and Pawl each rode beside him, with the rest of the Blood at his back. Casson, his Second, acted as the tracker. The wolves had made no attempt to hide their passing. After climbing the steepening slope to the next hill, they found the remains of a doe and her young fawn. Drendon’s trail led him to the same peak.

  Rhaekhar could easily picture one of the spring foals torn apart, and by the queasy look on his friend’s face, he wasn’t the only one considering such horrors.

  “There were two other kills down below,” Drendon said. “I think we’re dealing with a large pack.”

  “Then it’s good that so many warriors rode this day.” Khan shifted beneath Rhaekhar slightly. Other mounts weren’t as disciplined, sweating and snorting anxiously at the strong wolf markings.

  Rhaekhar turned his stallion toward his waiting Second and they began the climb to the next hill. Rocky and sparsely dotted with low scrub, the path took all of their concentration to ensure a na’kindre didn’t break a leg in the climb. Breathing hard and sweating, the na’kindren couldn’t climb much farther. Rhaekhar stared up at the jagged black cliff rising overhead. He could barely make out a crack in the fissure that might be a trail, but certainly none of their mounts could make it. Their hooves would be sliced to ribbons by the obsidian shards.

  Frustrated, he dismounted and joined Casson. His Second stood in the shadow of the cliff, studying the tracks. “They lead up there,” he said, pointing to the jumbled passage. “Why would wolves be this high? There’s no game up here.”

  “My guess is they’ve hidden their den up high on the Mountain.”

  Casson grunted disgustedly. “Why would Vulkar tolerate such killers on His Mountain?”

  Rhaekhar slapped him on the back and turned to enjoy the view. This high, the na’kindren and colorful tents looked like a child’s toy set. He could easily imagine the twins whispering and giggling as they moved the pieces about. “The wolves aren’t evil. They’re simply creatures who’ll starve if they don’t hunt. When the snows come, they’ll be desperate enough to brave our swords for a shank of na’kindren. We must be ready.”

  Casson grumbled and headed back down toward his na’kindre.

  A shout drew Rhaekhar’s attention back to his warriors. They all stared up at the cliff, their faces lax with awe.

  He looked up and tears of joy fill his eyes. A thousand handspan above, a sangral na’kindre stood looking down at them. Generations ago, these magnificent Children of Vulkar had galloped the Plains with joy. After the kae’don against the outlanders who’d thought to steal them and Vulkar’s terrible retribution, the sangral na'kindre had fled the tents to live high in Vulkar’s Clouds where they would be safe.

  Few ever saw such an incredible sight.

  Lit with an otherworldly light, the sangral na’kindre glowed very much like Shannari’s dragon had filled his mind with radiance. The na’kindre reared, hooves flashing in the sun like mirrors, and then leaped down the broken slit in the rock face. Effortlessly, it cleared the tumbled boulders and dangerous slope, so light on its hooves it floated like dandelion fluff on the breeze.

  Spellbound, he could only watch as the na’kindre swooped down the last few feet of cliff.

  And galloped straight at him.

  His heart locked down in his chest, his lungs banded with iron. Great Vulkar, what will become of Shannari? How can I possibly leave her?

  The sangral na’kindre slid to a halt, throwing up rocks and dust in his face. Its sky blue eyes gleamed with sympathy, sorrow, and boundless love. :Rhaekhar, Khul of the Nine Camps of the Sha’Kae al’Dan, the Great Wind Stallion sent me to bring you home to His Clouds.:

  There was no greater honor. Yet he fell to his knees, every muscle in his body frantically denying his fate. His hands ached for his rahke, his body shouted to fight, to roar his furious grief to the heavens and fight until the last drop of blood dripped from his body, yet this was a kae’don he could not win.

  :No!: Shannari howled in his mind, her bond piercing him as though she’d stabbed the ivory rahke directly into his heart. :Fight! How can you leave me like this without even trying to save yourself?:

  He couldn’t breathe with such sorrow strangling him. :Forgive me, my heart. My kae’valda demands no less than I do Vulkar’s will, as you will continue to do your Lady’s.:

  Her bond hammered at him as viciously as the dragon had torn through his mind. She pulled and dragged at him, trying to physically drag him away, while she raged. :Don’t you dare leave me without a fight, without even trying. How could you? You always said your Khul’lanna received whatever I wanted, and I want you to live! I want you to fight!:

  The sangral na’kindre lowered its head to brush its soft pearly muzzle against his cheek. :Our Dark Mare’s Daughter loves you very much, but it’s time for her to return to Shanhasson. Vulkar would rather have you gallop His Clouds than wither in the outlander city, and while her heart is dedicated wholly to you, she cannot fulfill Our Dark Mare's destiny. She must return.:

  “How long?” His throat was so tight and raw he could barely speak. Shannari still railed at him, urging her mare to fly over the hills toward him, but not even the High Queen of all the Green Lands could save him from his kae’valda. “How long must she be alone?”

  :Only the gods know.: The sangral na’kindre echoed sadness. :Be comforted, Khul, for she shall never be truly alone.:

  He knew her Blood would take care of her, but would she allow them? Would she ever forgive him for leaving her?

  :Are you ready?:

  Shannari’s bond burned silver and cold, sharp as the ivory rahke she’d inherited f
rom the Shadowed Blood. Bitterness, anger, desperation, all fueled her rage until he feared she would do something unforgivable.

  :I shall wait for you with our co-mate. I shall never leave you.:

  :You’re leaving me now!:

  :Forgive me, na’lanna Evening Star, for bringing you this pain. Your love was the greatest gift of my life.:

  Her light faltered, dimming with her grief. :And the greatest sacrifice.:

  :Aye,: he replied softly, both to her and the waiting sangral na’kindre. :I merely die, my heart, but not even death shall keep me from you.:

  * * *

  THE FIRST STRIKE OF HOOVES KNOCKED her from the saddle. Screaming his name, Shannari struggled to breathe, to think of a way to save him, to convince him he could fight this horrible destiny. After everything they’d been through, after all they’d risked and suffered to save their people, how could this happen?

  Dharman caught her, easing her to the ground. Hooves struck Rhaekhar again, and pain exploded in her head. His skull had been cracked. She knew his pain, his fear, yet he never once fought back.

  Honor, always he thought of his honor. What of her? What of their children? How could he leave them without even trying to protect himself?

  She felt his ribcage shatter, his heart pounding, struggling to beat even as his own ribs sliced open his lungs and organs. He threw up his arm, too little too late, hooves crushing his bones like twigs.

  Blood in her mouth, whether hers or his, she didn’t know. She couldn’t see, not with darkness swallowing her whole.

  :Khul’lanna!: Dharman’s low voice growled in her mind, blazing red in the growing darkness. :Hold my bond. Give me some of this pain.:

  So dark, so cold. At least here, the pain began to dim. It felt distant, removed from her poor fragile body. She heard the slow steady drip of water somewhere and smelled the sweet spring that powered the Silver Lake. Water closed over her head. She tried to move her arms and swim to keep her head up out of the water, but she felt upside down. The waters of the holy lake had never been so deep, so cold, so dark. It sucked her under, rolled her back and forth, swirling faster toward some shore she’d never seen before.

  Rippling light shone weakly through the murk. The moon always shone on the Silver Lake, except this was red, as though the moon dripped blood into the water.

  Chains dragged her deeper. She couldn’t feel her arms or legs any longer. It was too cold. Far away, she heard a distorted whisper.

  :Khul’lanna, please, reach for me.:

  The red wasn’t blood from the moon after all, but Sal’s hair floating in the water. Golden wheat mixed with the red, and she knew her two nearest Blood had dived after her. She could almost make out their form in the water far above, dark fishes swimming deeper, seeking their prey.

  :Khul’lanna!: They swam faster, harder, their hair floating closer. :Come back to us.:

  Dharman’s voice broke, his bond raging with sorrow, as grief-stricken as she’d felt just moments ago. Numbed by cold and darkness, she couldn’t stir much more than pity and sadness in her heart. She sacrificed. Now they would sacrifice. Her nine young Blood. At least they would be free to be warriors, to have mates of their own, lives that didn’t involve protecting her from her infinite enemies.

  :The twins,: Dharman strained so hard she felt a wisp of his hair brush her face despite the weight of water squeezing her lungs. :Would you leave them, too?:

  Her sweet baby girls. First their fathers; now their mother. She knew Drendon and Alea would care for them as much as their own children, but her heart still ached for her daughters. They were doomed to love and suffering, just as she’d been cursed by Our Blessed Lady’s blood. Her bloodline had continued with them, and they’d never be more than a pawn or broodmare if they weren’t careful.

  :You were never pawn nor broodmare, brightheart.:

  The Black Dragon from her Dream rumbled in the darkness. Of course, this would be his domain, the Shadow dragging her to death. He would always lie in wait for her.

  :You always die for love.: Despite water everywhere, she clearly heard him snort with derision. :I much prefer hatred myself. Die, and leave me again. I will raze your Shining Walls to the ground when I come to your Green Lands. Die, and drag your sweet darling boys to their deaths. Kill them with their love. Love certainly killed you.:

  :Khul’lanna.: If Dharman was anyone but her stoic First Blood, she would have said he wailed. :Don’t surrender this kae’don. Don’t surrender us to death before we ever have the opportunity to love you. Brightest Evening Star, na’lanna Qwen, my beloved Queen, please. Reach for me. I can still save you, if only you will let me.:

  The last sentence rebounded in the darkness, his ferocious determination ringing like steel. Indeed, he could save her, if only she wanted to be saved.

  The Black whispered, his voice sly, his claws clattering on the cold stone of her heart. :You swore you loved me, and then left me to suffer your Red’s eternal fury. You left me to darkness, cold and alone and filled with hatred. Leave them to me, brightheart. I’ll show them how love kills. I’ll show them how much your love is worth.:

  She searched the darkness below, looking for any sign of Rhaekhar. His bond dissolved, leaving a gaping hole where her heart had been. Yet above, nine red threads gleamed despite the murk. Dharman and Sal followed her in death. Could she bear the guilt, knowing she’d dragged them to an early pyre? She felt their fury and fear, their agonized love. So terribly young, strong and proud, her ferocious Blood.

  Gathering every ounce of her strength, she flung out a long-numbed arm already cold with death. She lurched toward the hand straining just out of her reach. She missed Dharman’s hand, but managed to seize a lifeline just the same. Sal’s red hair twined around her fingers, clinging to her flesh eagerly. She strained again, panting in her mind. Her heart had ceased beating, the light had died, and even the cold had become meaningless. All that mattered was finding Dharman’s hand.

  If I can only touch him…

  Her fingers brushed his. She knew his touch despite the ocean of death separating them. His bond seized her failing spirit.

  :Choose,: he whispered, his voice trembling with pain. Not his; hers. Leaning over her body that had forgotten how to breathe, her proud young Blood cried for her. :If you’d rather go with him, I understand. I drew you back from Gregar’s death, but I refuse to stand between you and your love again. All I ask is that you take us with you. Don’t leave us, na’lanna Qwen, I beg you.:

  :Love hurts.: Shadow crooned in her mind. :It kills so sweetly. Let the horse king’s heavy beads of honor drag you under too. Run from your young Red’s love as you’ve run all these amusing years. Run, brightheart. Run to death. Run to me.:

  Rhaekhar’s bond was utterly swallowed by darkness. She was empty, cracked open and drained so that not even blood remained.

  :Damn him for leaving me, and damn you too: Raging at the Black Dragon whose gaping jaws yawned beneath her ready to swallow her whole, she flung herself back, gripping Dharman’s bond. :I never run, not even from this.:

  With a mighty pull, Dharman hauled her back toward the light. His arms came around her, then Sal, their bodies searing her frozen flesh, forcing her heart to beat again. The moon gleamed above, rippling on the surface, but before her head broke the water, she heard the low purring rumble of a dragon.

  :That’s my brightheart.: The dragon chuckled, licking his long silver-tipped claws. :This time, you’ll be mine evermore.:

  Choking and gasping, she lay in Dharman’s arms in the cold, pale sunlight. Light snow swirled in the air. Shivering and wet, she clutched him and sobbed. “Lady help me, he’s dead. Rhaekhar’s dead.”

  CHAPTER

  SIX

  THEY ARRIVED ON THE SHORES OF THE SILVER LAKE AT THE SAME TIME. Dharman lifted her down off her mare and Sal slipped up to take her other arm. Unobtrusively, they supported her weight when her own knees refused to hold her. Head up and dry eyed, she watched silently as Varne led th
e golden stallion toward her.

  Khan’s mighty head drooped, his withers stained with blood. Khul’s Blood had slung his body over the back of his stallion, and he’d dripped blood all the way down the formidable slopes. Above, Vulkar’s Mountain rumbled mournfully, belching dark smoke, but no fire touched the sky, only the sorrow of ash.

  The pyre had already been built. The Nine Camps had already gathered in preparation for their annual event, so there was no need to wait. They’d have a new Khul before the sun set on the morrow.

  She laughed mirthlessly, her voice catching on a sob. No, I won’t cry. He chose to die. He chose to leave me, his daughters, and his people.

  Of course, the moment her daughters ran to her, their faces streaked with tears, her resolve broke. She fell to her knees and clutched them in her arms. Whether they comforted her or she them, she couldn’t say, but after another storm of tears had scoured her weary body once more, she found the will to stand. Head up, she walked—albeit as stiffly and slowly as an old crone—to the pyre.

  Blood had caked his face in a red mask, his hair matted and dark. Unsheathing the ivory rahke, she cut off his braids anyway, making sure to take the coiled braid of sable hair that he’d worn to honor their co-mate.

  Two mates, two great loves, both now dead. Her hand trembled so badly she couldn’t sheathe the blade without cutting herself. Sal did it for her, unashamed of the tears trailing down his cheeks. All her young warriors wept. They wept because she couldn’t. She’d filled that salty lake of her Dreams with tears. She had nothing left but sorrow cracking open her heart as surely as that blasted, punished land.

  Crying softly, Alea brought a heavy cloak lined with fur and draped it over Shannari’s shoulders, giving her a hug. Only then did she realize all the Sha’Kae al’Dan had dressed for colder weather. They wore long-sleeved tunics and pants of buckskin and woolens instead of the normal simple cloths about their hips. Snow still wisped in the air, but not enough to cover the ground. Soon, though, this land would be buried in snows. It would be frozen solid, as cold as her heart.