Return to Shanhasson

by Joely Sue Burkhart

  Na’lanna Qwen had vanished.

  CHAPTER

  TWENTY FOUR

  IT WAS A NIGHTMARE, THE SAME DREAM THAT HAD TORMENTED HER FOR YEARS. Shadows came to life and dragged her away from all she loved. The arm about her throat was so tight she couldn’t breathe. Darkness spread in her mind, her limbs numb with cold.

  :Gregar.:

  But she knew it wasn’t him. She didn’t smell his rich caffe scent; he didn’t stroke her cheek with his rahke. This attacker had to be a Death Rider, but who?

  Gregar growled in her mind, his bond a frigid midnight blade. :I was not the only Shadowed Blood.:

  “Varne?” She didn’t know she’d said it out loud until the man at her back sucked in his breath. “Varne, is that you? What’s wrong?”

  He slung her to the ground so hard her head recoiled on the tile. He dropped on top of her, his weight trapping her beneath him. Shadows waivered enough to reveal his perpetually grim face. “How did you know it was me?”

  “What in the Three Hells are you doing? Get off me at once.”

  He raised his rahke and stared at it. Water cascaded within her, so cold and crisp she shivered. She could shove him aside with that crushing wave, but something in his gaze made her pause.

  For years, this man had dedicated his life to Rhaekhar. No matter how much she disliked him, Varne deserved a chance to explain himself. She would regret sending him to join Rhaekhar without first trying to help him. In the back of her mind, she couldn't forget that Shadows had flickered about her when she'd nearly killed him last time.

  His hand trembled. His eyes swam with emotion. “I failed.”

  “Varne,” she whispered gently, drawing his gaze back to hers. “What is it? What happened?”

  “I tried to climb Vulkar’s Mountain.”

  “You wanted to be a Death Rider?”

  He nodded, a single jerk of his head.

  Trying to understand him, she said, “Your rahke isn’t ivory.”

  His mouth curled in a sneer and his left hand wrapped around her throat. “That won’t stop me.”

  Struggling to breathe, she tried to distract him. “If you need help…”

  “Do you remember what you told me at Rhaekhar’s pyre?”

  She blinked, trying to remember, but she’d blocked most of the events from her memory. That wretched day had shredded her heart and plunged her into an Endless Night of Sorrow.

  “You asked me what I was, nearest Blood of my dead Khul.”

  She swallowed hard, fighting the constriction in her throat, and slid her right hand down toward the black rahke on her hip.

  Dharman's bond burned red-hot with fury. :Na’lanna!:

  He was close, but she didn’t dare look for him and accidentally draw Varne’s attention. Surely he knew her Blood would never let him drag her away and do…whatever he meant to do. She couldn’t tell where they were, merely alone, deeper in some dark back room off the High Court. :It’s Varne.:

  :I saw Shadows and thought it was Gregar. Is he a Death Rider?:

  :Not exactly.:

  Varne squeezed tighter, breaking her concentration. “Do you remember now, Shannari? You left the Plains and became High Queen as you were always supposed to do, but what about me? What am I supposed to do now that my Khul is gone?”

  “So you decided to become a Death Rider.” Her voice rasped from the pressure of his hand, but she didn’t fight him. Wrapping her fingers around the rahke, she drew it slightly, waiting for the opportunity. “Did you think you could take Gregar’s place?”

  Varne snarled and his hand convulsed so hard the world went black. She struggled involuntarily. Air, she needed air. Desperate, she unsheathed the rahke and plunged it into his side. His breath whooshed out and he shuddered, sagging on top of her. Not an improvement.

  She jerked the blade higher until it snagged on a rib. Hot wetness flooded her hand.

  “I always thought you’d damaged Gregar.” Varne spoke normally, his voice only slighter tighter with pain. He didn’t try to defend himself, but he did loosen his fierce grip on her throat enough that she sucked in a deep lungful of air. “You destroyed his honor by interfering with his duties as Blood. You put Rhaekhar in a difficult situation that negatively impacted his defense. Yet both of them loved you too much to care.”

  “What do you want from me?”

  He lowered his head so she felt his breath feathering across her face. “I want…”

  Her internal alarms blared with urgency, her stomach twisted with nausea. She felt Dharman slowly and methodically edging nearer, hand outstretched, body low, searching for the Shadows that hid her. Meanwhile, the floor rumbled beneath her because two dragons were turning her Palace into rubble.

  I don't have time for this.

  “I want to be Blood again.”

  If she’d had any air to spare, she would have laughed. That’s it? That’s all he wants?

  “Ask Drendon…”

  “Nay,” Varne retorted. “He’s not my Khul.”

  “Me? You want to be my Blood?”

  “Why not? You took the savage as Blood, didn’t you?”

  “Mykal’s not exactly Blood.” She shifted her grip on the rahke’s slippery hilt. The last wound hadn’t even made Varne blink. He might not be a Death Rider, but he certainly appeared to be as difficult to kill. “He’s my lover who happens to have a blood bond with me.”

  “I don’t want to be your lover.”

  She fought not to laugh at the thinly veiled disgust in his voice. Varne had never liked her. The thought of him wanting her that way was laughable, but so was the idea of him becoming her Blood. Even when she’d challenged him, he’d been unable to—

  Stunned, the thought made her mouth fall open. “You can’t do it.”

  His breathing grew labored, a fetid pant against her face that made her gag. He smelled of fear and loathing, a sharp bitterness that had festered in him all these years. “This time, I shall.”

  It sounded like he was trying to convince himself, not her. “How long has the Endless Night whispered to you?” Her voice was breathy and weak, which might act in her favor. Deliberately, she let her tense muscles tremble.

  “I won’t kill you.” Yet he adjusted his grip on her throat to press the rahke on her main artery. “I just need a taste. That’s all my Khul gave me.”

  “He was my Khul too,” she whispered, letting tears pool and stream down her face. “I miss him, don’t you?”

  Varne shuddered and he accidentally nicked her. “Aye.”

  He jerked his gaze up to her face, and she swore he was horrified. His eyes were wide, his nostrils flaring with each breath, the veins pounding in his temples.

  “Would Rhaekhar want you to do this? Taking blood against my will is akin to raping me. Is that what you truly want to do?”

  He shook his head, but his eyes rolled wildly, his fingers clamping her windpipe shut. “I must be Blood. If I’m not Blood, I’m a killer. I don’t want to kill you!”

  :Send him to me, my heart.: Rhaekhar’s bond seared her mind. :Put him out of this misery and let Vulkar—and me and Gregar—deal with him.:

  “Let me help you,” she rasped, blinking away the darkness so she could see his face. “It doesn’t have to be this way.”

  Wetness dripped on her face. Varne was crying. That scared her more than anything. Until he sat up, straddling her, and deliberately trapped her right arm beneath his knee. The look that came into his eyes now made her skin crawl. He looked at her as though he’d just realized she was a woman and he wondered what she’d look like without clothing, but she knew he didn’t look at her for sex.

  It was her blood and the promise of what her death might mean if he sank deep enough into Shadow to accomplish it.

  She sharpened her voice. “Our Khul is ashamed of you, Varne. He doesn’t want you to do this.”

  “He shared you with Gregar. He would have shared you with the lads, too. Why should I be any different? I don’t want your
body, merely your bond.”

  “You don’t want me. You’ve never wanted me.”

  Darkness spread in Varne's eyes. Shadows thickened about him, obscuring his face except for his eyes, those dark burning pits of hatred. “You never respected me. Even now, you won’t give me your blood freely. You force me to take it. Perhaps I should take your life after all. At least then you’d be with Rhaekhar again. Aye, you’d be with him and Gregar, and Dharman would know what it’s like to be First Blood of a dead Khul’lanna.”

  Gathering her will, she shoved icy water straight at him. She knocked him off her, tumbling head over heels to land flat on his back. Without waiting for him to recover, she scrambled to her feet, grabbed the black rahke, and slammed it into his eye. He howled, heels drumming on the tile, drenched in her holy waters. She dunked more of the Silver Lake on him, pinning him flat, but still he fought, snarling, his face twisted with hatred.

  “You can’t kill me! I’m a Death Rider at heart, even if I wasn’t granted the ivory rahke. A Death Rider was destined to kill you. Gregar failed, but I won’t! I won’t!”

  He swiped at her with his rahke, but she dodged the blade and unsheathed the ivory rahke.

  It burst into light so brightly that Varne threw up his arm to shield his face. Light burned through the Shadows and Dharman let out a relieved shout.

  Tears burned her eyes. At last, the ivory rahke shines for me again.

  :Use me,: Gregar purred in her mind, dark velvet and strong, syrupy caffe. His scent filled her nose and she cried harder. :Let's slit his throat ear to ear with my rahke, and then let Dharman take his head. That will silence his venom.:

  Cold wrapped around her back, a welcome shadowy weight. Varne struggled up, swinging and cursing, but his blade crashed into a wall of darkness that he couldn’t penetrate.

  Gregar laughed in her mind and she could almost see his muscled arm locked firm to hold the rahke away. :No steel shall ever touch you when I have your back.:

  Pity filled her, not anger. Varne had never been able to see past his hatred. “I should have killed you when Rhaekhar died.”

  With a grimace, she slit his throat and jumped aside from the spray of blood.

  Dharman brushed past her, his footfalls silent, his teeth bared with fury. He crouched and slammed his fist on the black hilt, driving it deeper into Varne’s skull.

  Varne gurgled. “I could have been her nearest Blood.”

  Dharman yanked the rahke free, grabbed a handful of hair, tilted Varne’s chin back, and began to saw at his neck. “Over my dead body.”

  CHAPTER

  TWENTY FIVE

  WITH BRIGHTHEART’S BLOOD IN HIS VEINS AND HER BOND TO GROUND HIM, HE REMAINED MYKAL IN HIS MIND, EVEN THOUGH THE BLACK DRAGON CLAIMED HIS BODY. Evenly matched, the other dragon fought viciously, reveling in destruction and mayhem. Her Palace was nearly destroyed, thanks in part to his determined entrance through the roof. Scrambling talons tore the marble tiles, massive beasts crushing them to powder, tails and wings knocking supporting columns aside like kindling.

  A person screamed and ran along the shattered wall instead of remaining hidden. Asad could not resist such temptation. The beast snagged the man in his jaws and snapped through his spine, shaking his head until body parts flew in all directions. The dragon threw his head back and laughed, which for a Black meant plumes of acid and smoke boiled to the heavens.

  Taking advantage of the uplifted head, the red-haired Blood ran in beneath the big dragon and slashed at his throat. Asad carelessly flicked Sal aside like a gnat and scrambled after him. With a roar, Mykal crashed into the other dragon, using his shoulder like a battering ram. They reared back, slashing at each other with front claws, necks winding and writhing, trying to land a decent bite.

  Their poisoned Fire wouldn’t hurt each other. They were evenly matched in size and skill. Asad had no hesitation in killing or destroying everything in sight, while Mykal felt the growing weakness in Shannari’s bond.

  Something had happened. Something of Shadow. He couldn’t let the thought distract him, but a corner of his mind listened frantically to her bond. Only when he felt her enter the broken chamber with her big Red at her back did he relax that concern and concentrate fully on his opponent.

  They had to kill him, get that ring off, and destroy it. How, he didn’t know. If Asad had been able to find it buried in the lost city ruins, then the ring might possess the ability to attract Shadowed minions. Mykal feared sending it on the fastest Xyan ship he could find to the depths of the deepest hole in the ocean wouldn’t stop the next enemy from finding and using it against her.

  :Brightheart.: Her bond shone in his mind, soft, sweet pearly light in his blackest heart, a priceless gift after centuries of Shadow. :Tell Sal to be ready to cut off the talon holding the ring.:

  She didn’t reply, but he felt her clear, pure water flowing through their bond. Even weakened and battered by some other battle, she still sent her strength to him. She still healed him, even when she tottered on her feet.

  Sal gave a nod and moved closer, warily keeping an eye on both Blacks.

  Mykal reared up high, roaring a challenge that no dragon would be able to ignore. Snarling, Asad slammed into him and carried him backwards. Pinned beneath the scaled bulk of the other dragon, Mykal made no attempt to stop the raking hind claws that eviscerated him; instead, he concentrated wholly on clamping his jaws around the other dragon's left forearm. He jerked that limb down to the ground and pinned it.

  Her bond rang with concern, pumping him full of moonlight and love, but she wouldn’t be able to save him. Not this time. :Mykal!:

  Asad sliced open his throat with a vicious howl of victory, but Mykal never relented his grip on that arm. Sal darted in close and sliced off the talon bearing the doubled rings.

  Howling, Asad released Mykal and scrambled after his claw. Without that ring, he’d be trapped as a dragon. He wouldn't be born again, unless the Great Lord took pity on him and gave him another chance, but pity from Yama would be as likely as rain in the barrens of Keldar.

  The ring slipped off the severed talon. Black metal danced and rolled across the marble, bouncing and tumbling as in his Dream.

  Straight toward Shannari.

  He bellowed a warning. :Don’t let that ring touch you!:

  Asad slashed at his throat, attempting to behead him, but terror for her gave Mykal strength. He shoved his taloned fist into the other dragon’s chest, digging past hide and rib to seize the heart and yank it from its cavity. Still beating, the foul shriveled organ lay like a steaming pile of offal on the marble.

  Jaws opening and closing helplessly, Asad shuddered. Awkwardly, he threw his bulk toward his heart, as though he thought he could retrieve the organ and simply put it back in his body. His tail crashed a broken pillar, and another section of roof fell on him, beating him down to the floor.

  Mykal scrambled up, filled his lungs with air, and blasted every fume and poison he possessed at the foul ring tumbling at the brightest heart.

  Dull black metal mocked him and bounced harder toward its quarry.

  She stepped onto the Great Seal and his bones hummed with power. :Trust me, my Keldari dragon.:

  Music filled the air. He smelled lush green grass, the musky spice of roses in full bloom, and pure water, an oasis unlike any he’d ever known. The white knife shone brighter in her hand, a mere candle before the magnificence of the White Dragon. She seared his eyes until he strained to keep them open. So bright, she smoked his scales, but he didn’t turn away. Never, not from her.

  Spinning, the ring bounced and landed on the Great Seal. She slammed the ivory knife down and pinned the ring against the marble. :Give him to me.:

  He wasn’t sure what she meant, until she tugged on his bond. Staring into her eyes, he stretched out his full length on the cold marble and dropped every defense and internal barrier he possessed. He surrendered, filling his heart with the love he'd never expected, certainly never deserved. She had eve
ry right to hate him.

  He ought to be slaughtered beside Asad, his dragon hide burned, his bones busted into dust and tossed on the wind.

  She loves me.

  Which was enough reason to let her do whatever she willed.

  The Black Dragon did not go so easily to the Light. Snarling and hissing in fury, he fought her, slashing at his—Mykal's—body, refusing to be bound. Through their bond, an ancient vision awoke.

  In a night sky, two dragons were locked together in a death spiral, tumbling helplessly to the earth. Wings torn and broken during his fight against her Red mate, the Black couldn’t fly, but the White refused to be parted from him.

  Even then, he'd deserved to die. :Release me.:

  Her love shone like the full moon in the sky. :Never, my love.:

  That sweet vision drew the Black as surely as a moth to a flame. He leaped into the air, and Mykal felt the dragon rip out of his flesh. He lay flat on his back and stared up at the hovering shadow of a beast. He could see the shattered Palace through the spectre, but the wind of its wings ruffled his hair and tumbled tangled strands into his eyes.

  The shadowed dragon flew toward his mate, the White Dragon shining in Shannari's eyes. She held her bleeding arm up, and the black shape wrapped itself around her arm, slithering down her body to the ring coated in blood.

  Waters gathered in her heart, swirling with the weight of all the oceans of the world. With a mighty shove, she pushed the ring into the Great Seal and chained the dragon beneath it. Roaring, the Black surged toward the sky, wings beating the air, but the ring sucked it down like a whirlpool to disappear into the stone.

  Trembling, her shoulders drooped. Dharman stepped onto the seal, wrapped his arms around her, and clutched her to his heart.

  Once again, Mykal saw the ancient vision of tumbling dragons in his mind.

  The Red Dragon slammed into the White's back, using his own wings to slow their tumbling descent. Even though the two males had fought for supremacy just moments before, the Red was willing to surrender the fight in order to keep his mate safe. To give her whatever she wanted. And she wanted the Black.