Lost in the Dawn (Erythleh Chronicles Book 1)

by Catherine Johnson

  Cael laughed again. "I believe that you can... persuade... her of the... reasonableness... of your plan." Cael almost could not speak the words for laughter.

  "One moment," Hitaal interrupted with a raised hand. "Let me understand this. The mere notion of your marriage to his sister will cause Erkas to fly into a rage, a rage violent enough for him to attack you?"

  "Yes." Jorrell and Cael responded in unison.

  Hitaal scrubbed a palm over the stubble on his jaw. "You're right. I don't want to know the details."

  ~o0o~

  Jorrell was perfectly calm as he walked through the corridors of the palace. The morning's conversation didn't perturb him, not entirely. The plan, and its outcome, was nothing to make his heartbeat race. Provoking Erkas with the result of killing him was exactly what he wanted to do. Proposing the plan to Serwren... that gave him some reason to pause.

  Jorrell's calming thought was that she would go along with the plan if only for her self-preservation. But he couldn't deny that he would be disappointed if that turned out to be her only motivating factor. His feelings for the matter were snarled up in the complexities of their situation. He very much wanted for this matter to be much more simple, much more direct, much more honest than it was.

  As he gripped the ornately carved handle of the library door, Jorrell noticed his hand was shaking.

  This matter was very simple on the face of things, but under that thin veneer, it was fraught with complications, too. He was supposed to be spending time with Ulli, spinning tales of his time in Veltharesh and beyond. And this would be the first time that he had spent any time in a situation that could have been considered private, with his son.

  His son.

  He had a son.

  He and Serwren had a son.

  Jorrell's hand trembled a little more.

  He wasn't used to being nervous. Having faced down armies of savages, he hadn't really found anything that could unnerve him. Spiders... maybe. But only Cael knew about that, and he was sworn to secrecy.

  Jorrell didn't think that Serwren would have revealed Ulli's heritage to the boy since the day before, which meant he had some very big secrets to keep. Fury that he should be denied any opportunity for his son to know him caused his limbs to vibrate almost as much as his nerves. The sadness and regret at all the years that had been stolen from them, all three of them, was a bottomless pit that threatened to swallow him whole.

  That despair had threatened to consume him the day before, even as he was inside Serwren, even as they were wrapped in each other's bodies, close enough to breathe for each other. Even as he'd gloried in the moment, knowing that they'd both finally triumphed, he had felt sorrow for that lost time. He hadn't been able to stop the tears that had demanded release. It had been too long. It was too much. Serwren had accepted him, she knew pleasure in her own body, in his, after all that she'd been through. Jorrell would have considered her well justified if she'd never wanted to be intimate with a man again.

  Their joining had been a revelation. Their perfunctory coupling in the Moon Cave was a dim and insipid memory compared to the brief hour that they'd spent together. That short time had been everything he'd hoped for as a boy; it had been everything he'd dreamed of as a man.

  Jorrell could not deny that he wanted Serwren, that he wanted more of her. He didn't only lust for her body. He wanted all of her. He wanted Serwren in his life. He wanted to see her strength in action, every day. He wanted to give her safe foundations which would allow her to flourish, because he knew she could be wondrous when she wasn't restrained by fear, and by danger. And yes, he wanted to be able to call that strong, gifted, fascinating woman his wife. He wanted to the world to know that she had chosen him as her mate. He wanted to be the best he could be, for her.

  It wasn't much to want.

  His thoughts brought a wry smile to his face. If Cael could hear him now, he would be nothing but derisory. Cael would tell him he that was in love, a fool in love. Cael would be right; there was no point denying it. He was in love with Serwren, he had been for years, decades, and now he wanted his family to be together. He wanted them safe. He wanted them happy.

  He would do whatever it took to get what he wanted.

  This was the first step.

  Jorrell took a deep breath, twisted the handle and opened the door.

  The familiar click and squeak of the hinges, the smell of the scrolls and books, that musty, dusty dryness, brought back a thousand memories, most of which involved Serwren. Jorrell's cock twitched as he stepped into the room, but his mind fixed to a completely different association as Ulli jumped up from the table he'd been sitting at, leaving the huge book he'd been studying open at the page he'd been reading. The boy appeared to be alone.

  "You came." Jorrell could tell that Ulli was trying to restrain his boyish excitement in order to behave more as he thought an adult should, but he wasn't entirely successful.

  "I said that I would, and I keep my word." Jorrell smiled. Ulli's enthusiasm was infectious.

  "Thank you, all the same. I know the army is to march out soon. You must be very busy."

  "I can spare the time for you."

  "Please, sit." Ulli motioned towards the chair on the opposite side of the desk to the one that he'd previously occupied. The young lad was displaying manners and poise beyond his young years. His mother had done well.

  Jorrell leaned his forearms on the table as Ulli resumed his seat, closed the heavy volume on the table, and pushed it to one side. "So, what do you want to know?"

  Confusion and frustration darkened Ulli's features. "Consul Astol wasn't terribly specific. He said I should speak to you, that you had been about as far south as it was possible to go, and that you might inspire me."

  "Did he indeed. I can't say that there's anything very inspiring about the Southern Wastelands. They're just that, wasted land, a desert. The wind has blown the sand into great dunes, mountainous things. As the wind keeps blowing, the dunes keep shifting. They're never ending. It's soul destroying when they're all you can see, when you get to the top of one only to see the thousands you still have to traverse."

  "Is it very hot? Hotter than Senthirr?"

  "Senthirr?"

  "The village, town really, where we used to live. It's three whole days' ride inland. It's much cooler here in Thrissia. Consul Astol says it's because of the coast, the sea."

  "Ahhh, yes." Jorrell nodded in agreement and understanding. "Yes, the desert is hot enough to kill a man who's foolish enough to stay out in the midday sun unprotected. But the night is cold and just as deadly for it. The desert is no place to be without supplies or shelter. There are sandstorms, the wind blows the fine sand that lies over the packed grit of the dunes into great clouds, billowing walls of dust that you see coming, but can't outrun. They can strip your skin down to the bleeding flesh."

  Ulli was wide-eyed, but Jorrell knew that it was impossible to comprehend the true carnage that a sandstorm could wreak until you'd been caught in one.

  "What do you use for shelter?"

  "The natives use tents or long cloths to cover their bodies. It's best to follow their lead. They've been practicing the art of survival out there for lifetimes."

  Ulli had been mirroring Jorrell's pose, but now he sat back in his chair. "Does anything actually live out there?"

  "Yes. There are trees, believe it or not, despite the lack of rain. They grow great, thick trunks to draw moisture from the earth and have canopies that are wide and dense to capture what they can from the skies. There are madavaths and sand dragons, both are huge lizards. Madavaths can be domesticated. Sand dragons are vicious beasts that live in the dunes, they're best avoided. And of course, there are the rebels."

  Ulli sat forward again and dropped his voice to a conspiratorial and awed whisper. "Rebels?"

  Jorrell eased forward a little. "There are people in Veltharesh who make money by capturing free men from the tribes of Sannarrell, in the far south, and selling them as slaves
to Vuthron. The rebels live in the desert to avoid capture, and attack the hunting parties whenever they can."

  Ulli's young brow was creased with concern and his efforts to understand. "You're to fight the Vuthroans?"

  "Yes."

  Ulli nodded earnestly. "Good. No man should ever have the right to own another."

  Jorrell felt a swell of pride at the boy's words. His son had a kind and generous heart. "Those are wise words, but such a freedom is not easily accomplished."

  Ulli's face was still set in stern lines. "It should be. I believe my father might have been a slave."

  Now Jorrell had to fight to keep his expression blank. He allowed a little curiosity to show, but only a little. "What makes you think that?" He paused, but he found himself asking a question, although he dreaded what the answer might be. "What did your mother tell you about your father?"

  "Mother always said my father had been sent away from us and could not return. If he was not free to return, he must have been a slave."

  Jorrell was impressed that although Ulli had applied a logical, if naive, assumption to his situation, that he did not seem to be disturbed by the idea that his father might not be a free man. The half truth that Serwren had been forced to offer was bitter in its honesty. "Not necessarily. Sometimes it is duty that enslaves men rather than ownership. Although I'm sure your father would have come for you if he had been able. Any man would be proud to call you his son."

  Ulli turned and looked out of the window, envisioning something other than the waning afternoon. "I hope so. I hope to meet him someday."

  Jorrell had hopes that such a day would not be long in coming, but he could talk no more on the subject without breaking Serwren's trust and confidence, so he steered the conversation back to the topic that they were supposed to be discussing and tried not to let his mind run away with fantasies and plans. Everything he wanted was within his grasp. The thought that it might be torn from him was more terrifying than the first charge of the most battle-maddened, blood-thirsty horde.

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  When Jorrell left the library, he felt replete in a way that he never had before, and yet still tension sang in his blood. He knew exactly what he could attribute the conflicting feelings to. His satisfaction came from spending time with his son. His son. And from finding out that the lad was intelligent and in possession of a caring heart. That pleased him enormously, although the fact that he could take no credit for it galled him as much as it pleased him. Serwren had done an excellent job of raising their son. Jorrell had not been able to have any hand in it at all. He wished that he had been able to share that task, but wishing was all he had left on that score. Ulli was a son to be proud of. And therein lay another frustration; he could not shout his pride from the rooftops, as he so wished to do.

  Such a quantity of dissatisfaction kept him on edge, but there was more to his tense mood than that. Now he had to start to enact his plan, although thinking of it in such terms gave it an edge of falseness that was simply not applicable. There was nothing false in a proposal to Serwren. Perhaps he would have liked to have had more time to simply be with her, to allow her to form the same ideal, but ultimately, this would have been his goal.

  Their future had been such a nebulous idea for so long that he had never really considered it in great depth or detail. Now that he was forced to form an actual idea, an actual plan, he found himself at a loss. As a youth, Jorrell had never envisioned how he might have proposed to Serwren, because he'd taken the idea of their marriage for granted. As an adult, he had always hoped to have the opportunity, but he'd never given rein to his imagination regarding the scenario, simply because he'd never had any certainty that they would ever both occupy the same space, that they would ever breathe the same air, ever again.

  So, now he had to come up with a plan.

  The thwarted boyish lover in him wanted to climb up the vine to her room after dark. The practical soldier that he was comprehended that Serwren no longer resided in the same rooms, and that the vine was old and withered and would likely not hold his weight. His mission was highly unlikely to be a success if he broke his leg in the undertaking of it.

  He did not have the time to organise a grand gesture. When he thought more on that point, he turned ever further away from it. Such exhibitionism was not their way. Filling the ballroom with a thousand candles sounded romantic, but it was neither practicable or relevant. Their love had always been a simple, instinctual thing. Neither he nor Serwren had needed expensive gifts or expansive gestures to reassure the other of their commitment.

  No, he needed to think harder on the matter.

  So, when he'd left Ulli in the library, Jorrell had walked through the city, relearning its streets, reclaiming it for his own and searching for inspiration. He'd wandered for what was left of the day, until the sun began to paint the sky with the colours of its setting. When he'd found himself in the shadows of a familiar road, he'd known exactly what he needed to do

  There were elements to his plan that were not ideal. It was uncertain as to how Serwren would even receive him. She was a strong, independent woman who had been on her own for years. She did not have need of a husband. Truly, generally, she required only a bodyguard. Jorrell had to seal his case to her; it could not rely on love. What they had, whatever it was, was too new for that. There was every chance that Serwren's answer would be "no." Given that she carried a knife on her person at all times, it was also highly likely that he'd be wounded during the course of his endeavours.

  That he may come away from a proposal to Serwren with his life blood leaking had never, not once, factored in his thoughts as a boy.

  As a man, as a soldier, the chances of being stabbed as he proposed to the woman he loved was a very real consideration.

  Jorrell debated the lies, the artifices that he would need to spin to get Serwren to the spot that he had decided upon, and discarded them all. That was not how he wished to begin their life, even for so pleasant an occasion as this. He wanted the event to be as true as possible, despite the reasoning behind it. His comrades might think that marrying Serwren was an aside to his plan to kill Erkas, but to Jorrell, killing Erkas was an aside to his plan to marry Serwren. He wanted their bond to hold, and he could not begin that bond with lies.

  But nor could he answer the questions that she would be sure to ask if he approached her directly with his suggestion to meet, so he had a message delivered to her. There were few people that he could trust with such a mission. There were even fewer people that she would accept such a message from. Jorrell had initially thought to ask Cael; he suspected that there was an affinity between his best friend and the woman who owned his heart. But Serwren had been badly betrayed by people in her life, people she had cared more for, who had meant more to her, she had no reason to trust Cael just because he made her laugh.

  Jorrell settled on asking Remmah to speak to Serwren - there could be no evidence of a note - to tell her the time and place that he needed her to be present at.

  Assured that Serwren would be given the right information, Jorrell headed out to wait for her.

  ~o0o~

  He was listening for her, but even so, he did not hear her steps as she slid down the shale scattered path. The rushing of the waves had disguised her approach. But he had been able to gauge the time by the position of the moon, and he was watching for her at the archway of rock as she entered the Moon Cave.

  This night, they would reclaim the place that had always been theirs.

  "Jor? What is the meaning of this? Why have you asked me to come to this place?"

  He had been expecting an amount of suspicion, and he knew he need to clip the wings of her misgivings before they fledged into anger. He went to her. "Serry..."

  But she cut him off with a raised hand. "This place... the memories..."

  Moving slowly as one might with a nervous animal, Jorrell lifted his hands to slip the hood of Serwren's cloak back from her head, so that he could rel
ease her face from its shadows. "Tonight we make new memories."

  Serwren was not mollified in the slightest. "Really? You've called me here to..."

  She stopped speaking when he dropped to his knees in front of her, as a humble servant should before his queen. He watched the expressions flow across her face, shock at his sudden movement, concern that he was hurt, confusion when she realised that he wasn't; that was where her attitude settled, so he pressed on.

  When he caught her hand in both of his, something like fear joined the confusion, but Jorrell was undeterred. He pressed a kiss to the back of her fingers.