“You won’t burn me,” Ashok said, “not when I’m on your back.”
“You won’t ride him without a saddle,” Olra hollered across the field. “Don’t even try it.”
“She’s right,” Cree said. “The wizards have a means: a saddle enchanted to protect you from the fire.”
“I’ll get it,” Olra said.
“No,” said Ashok, shaking his head. “It’s not fair to him. He should have his chance at me.”
Olra cursed, loudly enough for Ashok to hear across the field. “I knew this would happen,” she said. She motioned to one of her guards, who handed her a longbow and a full quiver. She perched on the fence and nocked an arrow, training it on the nightmare.
Ashok glared at her. “You won’t use that,” he said, “unless I give the word.”
“Careful,” Vedoran warned from Ashok’s other side.
Ashok set his chin stubbornly. “This is my fight,” he said.
“This is my ground, fledgling,” Olra said. She raised the bow. “You do as I tell you.”
Fury burned in Ashok’s chest. He stripped his dagger from its sheath before he thought and threw it across the field. It passed over the nightmare’s head and clanged loudly off the iron fence next to Olra.
The Camborr flinched; the arrow wavered, and she jumped down so she wouldn’t fall. When she’d regained her balance, the look she cast Ashok was one of pure rage.
Behind Ashok, Vedoran sighed. “That was a mistake,” he said.
“I’m aware of it,” Ashok said through gritted teeth. But he couldn’t take it back.
“Take him out of there,” Olra said to her guards. “If he resists, put a spear in his gut. I’ll get the nightmare.”
“Wait,” Ashok said as the guards approached the fence. If they disturbed the field, it was all over. He looked at Olra, but was aware all the time of the nightmare standing strangely quiet, as if he too were waiting to see how the tableau played out. “I apologize for my disrespect,” Ashok said. The words came to his lips as if dredged from deep water. “But I’m here now, and”-he glanced at the nightmare, forcing himself to meet that red, inscrutable gaze-“I’m not leaving. We have to compromise.”
“He’s right,” Vedoran said. “Even if he is a fool.”
Good-natured laughter came from Skagi and the rest, and even Olra’s black gaze softened a bit. Ashok felt a strange prickling along his skin, a feeling like the others were in the struggle with him. They wanted success for Ashok as much as he himself did. It was the sense of community again, of trust that he couldn’t fathom.
This is how it could have been with them, Ashok thought. Lakesh … My brothers.
No. That kind of distraction truly would get him killed. Ashok clamped down on the treacherous thoughts and the echoes of the past, and focused on the nightmare.
“You’re in my thoughts, aren’t you?” he whispered. “You and I will dance now, but we’ll dance again tonight, on your field.” Ashok hoped he was ready.
Slowly, with the chain dragging loosely, non-threateningly at his side, Ashok took two steps toward the nightmare. The beast flicked his tail. Sparks showered the ground. They flared and singed the grass before going out.
Ashok took another step forward, without hesitation. He kept walking until he was almost close enough to touch the nightmare’s thick black chest. The reek of burning flesh clung to the beast like a shroud. It dipped its head, releasing a cloud of steam that Ashok did touch, his fingers caressing the phantom heat. He blew a breath of his own into the nightmare’s face, letting him take in his scent. He stood still while the nightmare’s nostrils flared, and the beast tossed his head, whether in apathy or disgust Ashok couldn’t say.
More breaths passed, and Ashok stretched out a hand tentatively.
The nightmare snapped at him, its wicked teeth sinking into Ashok’s flesh. Ashok tore his hand away, but that only made the wound worse.
Ashok immediately backed off, clutching his hand, which had a large chunk of flesh torn out of the heel. Blood spattered the ground.
“Are you all right?” Chanoch called out to him.
Ashok could see the warriors were tense, their bodies half hanging over the fence, prepared to strike. But the nightmare seemed in no danger of charging or lashing out again. It stood as sedately as before, and Ashok thought he read a smug expression in the beast’s eyes.
“I’m fine,” he assured them. He smiled darkly at the nightmare. “You were just greeting me, weren’t you?”
The nightmare snorted. Ashok tore a bit of his sleeve and wrapped it quickly around his hand to staunch the bleeding. The wound would need to be tended, that was certain, but he wasn’t surrendering the field.
He stalked forward, boldly entering the nightmare’s space, and put his entire body within striking distance of those teeth and deadly hooves. He reached his bloodied hand out again.
As before, the nightmare struck, faster than Ashok’s eyes could track. But he’d been expecting the snap, and instead of recoiling he jerked his other hand up-the hand that held the chain.
In a swift motion he encircled the beast’s neck twice with the chain, the leather-covered spikes snarling with mane and flesh in a rough lasso. Ashok dropped to his knees to try to avoid the gnashing teeth, but the nightmare caught his shoulder, ripping apart the bone scales of his breastplate.
Ashok fell forward against the beast’s legs and instantly felt the fetlocks burning him. The flames surged up around him as if he’d sat in a campfire. He would burn alive if he didn’t move.
Throwing himself backward, Ashok rolled to put out the flames that had sprung up along his cloak and shirt. The nightmare, to Ashok’s relief, did not pursue him, but bucked and jumped, his four legs leaving the ground. He tossed his head madly, trying to dislodge the wicked chain.
Flame roared from the beast’s mane, consuming the metal. The leather burned away to blackened scraps, exposing the sharp spikes. The barbs dug into the nightmare’s flesh, and the beast let out another scream of pure rage and frustration.
“The fire won’t get you what you want,” Ashok said. He lunged and grabbed the dangling end of the chain. A mistake.
The nightmare reared and yanked Ashok up to his toes. Ashok tried to dig in, but his palms were slick with sweat from the fire. The chain slipped out of his hands.
Free, the nightmare barreled forward, knocking Ashok to the ground with a blow from his chest. The chain swung above Ashok’s head. He grabbed for the end, but the nightmare pulled it out of reach. The beast reared up again to strike at Ashok with his hooves.
Ashok rolled away over the hard ground. His world spun, but he kept his body moving until it fetched up against an obstruction.
He looked up to see Skagi gazing down at him in amusement. For a breath, Ashok was confused. The shadar-kai was on the wrong side of the fence. Then he looked around and saw that the others had entered the paddock.
The nightmare, pursuing Ashok, came up short when he saw the other shadar-kai had closed in. The beast snuffed a breath and turned a defensive circle, still dragging Ashok’s chain.
“He turned you crispy yet?” Skagi asked.
Ashok coughed. His chest burned where the nightmare had struck him. “Not yet,” he replied.
Skagi helped him to his feet. “Maybe that’s enough for one day,” he said seriously. “You don’t have to break him on your first try.”
Ashok watched the chain snag and drag through the dead grass. Skagi was right. He was still trying to establish dominance, something he’d told Vedoran he would not do.
He walked forward, weaponless, aware of his companions looking on in trepidation. He motioned them back.
For a third time, he approached within striking range of the hooves and teeth. He held out his hands, one bloodied, the other creased with blisters and scratches from trying to chain the beast. He stared the nightmare in the eyes.
“Your choice,” he murmured. “We’ll fight, and one of us will die, if that�
�s what you want. But maybe I have something more to offer you.”
At first the nightmare stood frozen, his tail swishing back and forth in time with the chain around his neck. The beast’s flaming mane glowed brightly.
Suddenly the beast lunged. He came toward Ashok.
And Ashok stood perfectly still.
He was prepared to dodge at the last possible moment, but the nightmare stopped his charge before he could run Ashok down. The crimson eyes were so close. Ashok smelled his own blood on the nightmare’s breath. He waited for the scream, but silence reigned in the paddock.
“That’s it,” Ashok whispered. The nightmare blew steam on his face. He shivered. “You’re interested in me now, aren’t you?” Ashok asked.
The nightmare jerked his head back, the chain swinging, but the fire ceased to flare from the beast’s mane. The flames softened and died out, leaving black strands. The beast pranced in place, agitated, but Ashok had expected nothing less. He would never be fully tamed.
Ashok reached up and took hold of his chain. The nightmare threw his head from side to side, but Ashok ignored the fury and untangled the spikes and ruined leather from the beast’s mane. The hair strands were still hot.
Then it was done. The chain fell to the ground, but Ashok kept his hands at the nightmare’s neck, stroking his flesh in small circles. His scent went into each stroke. Ashok spent long breaths running his hands up and down the nightmare’s neck before he moved on to its flank.
The creature was dense and so tall-fifteen hands at least, Ashok surmised. His muscles were a wonder. A beast like that had no need for fire, when with one kick he could cave in a man’s chest.
Ashok ran his hands under the nightmare’s mane. The heat radiating there was intense. He pulled his hands back, half expecting them to be black, but they weren’t. His skin was red and slick with sweat.
“You’re calm now,” Ashok said, and threaded the mane through the fingers of his left hand. “But what will you think when I do this?”
He hoisted himself up and swung a leg over the nightmare’s body.
All around the paddock came audible gasps from the watching shadar-kai. Ashok didn’t look at them, refused to reassure them. Let them think he was crazy.
Beneath him, the nightmare quivered, every muscle in the beast’s body resisting the thing that dared to sit on his back. Ashok knew exactly what the beast felt, struggling against his nature, fighting to maintain control. He reached out to stroke the nightmare’s neck, exposing his chest to the hot mane.
“No reins,” Ashok said. “No chains. You can burn me anytime you want. You still have a choice.”
Ashok knew the beast didn’t understand his words, but he thought the nightmare could read his intentions.
Across the paddock, Skagi whistled. “I’d never have believed it if I hadn’t seen it with my own eyes,” he said in bemused admiration. “Assuming it doesn’t burn you to ashes, you may have made a new friend.”
Ashok allowed himself a smile. Chanoch and Cree applauded, whooping with excited laughter. Vedoran’s expression remained neutral. Ashok knew only half his attention was on the spectacle in the paddock. The other half considered the greater implications of where Ashok sat, of his place as a Camborr.
Suddenly, amid the noise, the nightmare came to life. Ashok gripped handfuls of mane when the beast reared up, pawing the air with fire licking his hooves. He came down hard, throwing Ashok forward against his neck.
“Hold!” Ashok cried as the shadar-kai moved in. The nightmare charged, and Olra’s guards broke the protective ring around Ashok. The beast took the gap and ran for the fence, veered aside at the last breath, and galloped in a wide circle around the paddock.
Ashok held on, half-blinded by the wall of heat rising around him. The nightmare’s fetlocks and tail were fully ablaze. His mane flared pale orange but did not ignite. Ashok could see the blue roots outlining the nightmare’s spine. He was holding back. Ashok couldn’t imagine the restraint it took for the nightmare not to burn his rider alive.
The faces of the watching shadar-kai blurred together as they ran, and Ashok-sweating, fevered, close to burning-almost didn’t see the other figure that stood watching from outside the fence.
Uwan regarded him from a distance, his face unreadable. But as Ashok rode past, the Watching Blade raised his hand to his chest in salute.
Euphoric, Ashok raised his own hand in answer.
“He can’t be trusted with this mission,” Natan said.
Uwan and Natan stood in the empty training yard, waiting for Ashok and the rest of the recruits. The cleric’s face looked dangerously thin in the half-light. It reminded Uwan how little Natan had done except pray in the last month. He ate only what he needed to survive, slept in vision-shrouded dreams, and rarely ventured outside except to come to Athanon to report to him.
“There’s no questioning Ashok’s skill,” Uwan said. “He could best many of the Guardians in open combat, though Jamet still has reservations about his control.”
“You sound as if you’re proud of him,” said Natan.
“I’m proud of them all,” Uwan said. The footprints of the recruits had torn up the ground. They’d sparred amid the distant nightmare screams, never breaking. Warriors, all. Yes, he was proud of them.
“Yet Ashok isn’t one of ours,” Natan reminded him.
“He has acquitted himself well this past month. And he tamed the nightmare,” Uwan said. “I wouldn’t have thought it possible, but the two of them, riding in that paddock, they looked right together.”
“Once he’s outside the city, he’s beyond our control,” Natan said. “We can’t stop him, if he chooses to betray us.”
“That’s when Tempus takes over,” Uwan said. “He will guide Ashok in our stead.”
Natan looked at him. “My Lord, Tempus has already warned us of an imminent threat to our city that will involve Ashok in some form. Now he sends me a vision-” Natan’s voice broke.
Uwan put a hand on the cleric’s shoulder. “I know, my friend,” he said. “He’s showing us the way to find her. We’re very close now.”
“I saw the vast bog,” Natan said. “Fire burned a path through the swamp and pointed the way. I saw her face, my Lord. She is alive.”
“I never doubted it,” Uwan said. “We will bring them all home, Natan. I promise you.”
“But if you send Ashok … If something should go wrong-”
“He will not be alone,” Uwan assured him. “I will surround Ashok with his companions. They are all fine warriors, and I believe they will bind Ashok’s heart to Ikemmu.”
“Forgive me for doubting, my Lord, but you risk much with this plan,” Natan said.
Uwan saw the worry and fear etched on the cleric’s gaunt face. He squeezed Natan’s shoulder. “Be strong,” Uwan said. “It won’t be long now.”
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Ashok didn’t hear the Monril Bell. He was buried in the dream.
His back was to the cold cave wall, his chain snapping across the fire to warn his brother away. Lakesh had fallen after taking a blow to the face from Ashok’s chain. He hadn’t gotten up yet.
Somewhere in the distance, Ashok heard a scream like a mad horse. He shivered despite the heat of the fire. Where had he heard that sound before?
Another shadow moved in the tunnel mouth, and Ashok tensed, his lips curling in a feral snarl. He clutched an arm against his chest. It was wet with his blood and raw from the sword slash Lakesh had given him.
Was it another brother come to challenge him?
“No,” Ashok growled. “No more.”
His father stepped around the fire, his boots crunching gravel. He held a torch and a bucket of water, which he poured onto the flames.
Smoke erupted in the confined space. Ashok’s eyes watered. “What are you doing?” he demanded. Half blind, he couldn’t tell if Lakesh was preparing another attack. Why would his father interfere?
“No fires so deep in the caves. You
know the rules,” his father said. He was an imposing figure, with a mane of dirty red hair and beast hide armor. Thick, ropey scars covered his arms and legs. He was the most physically dominant figure in their enclave, but not the most cunning. The cunning had gone to his sons, seven of them.
Once there had been nine.
They’d all been got on different mothers in the enclave, but those were either gone or with other men. The shadar-kai existed as rogues, or in enclaves like wolves, but they did not have that animal’s notion of a pack when it came to mating or raising offspring.
Shadar-kai mated for stimulation first and to produce young second. Offspring were divided up between sire and dam as they saw fit and raised until they could fend for themselves and contribute to the enclave.
“Get out of here,” Ashok said to his father, his chain held crosswise in front of him. It was a flimsy defense against his father’s brute strength.
“Stand at ease,” his father said with narrowed eyes. “Lakesh is dead.”
“What?” said Ashok. He came around the ruined fire and saw that his father spoke the truth. Lakesh lay on his back, his throat slashed open by Ashok’s chain. The blood looked black against his brother’s gray skin.
“Well done,” his father said gravely.
“I didn’t challenge him,” Ashok said. Mechanically, he gathered his chain-the spikes still stained with his brother’s lifeblood-and put it back on his belt. His dagger was somewhere on the ground; he would find it later. “He came to me,” Ashok said.
“Lakesh underestimated you,” his father said. “The others won’t.”
“But they will come for me,” Ashok said. He could still hear the harsh scream echoing in the caves. The sound was coming closer. “What will happen when there are none of us left?” he asked. “Who will defend the enclave?”
“The strongest will find a way to survive,” his father said, unconcerned. “They will dominate the weak.”
“Such a waste,” Ashok said. “All of it.”
“It’s the only way we keep power,” his father replied.
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