Shawna Thomas

by Journey of Dominion

  The next level was an open gallery with another hall, all empty. Below was the great hall. No sign of Tarak or Mohan. She moved to the storage rooms. A startled gasp brought her around.

  A young girl blushed. “I’m sorry, I wasn’t expecting anyone.” She straightened her apron. “Can I help you, milady?”

  Ilythra considered lying but then decided the truth was strange enough. “I am treating the Poet and he’s vanished from his bed. Have you seen him?”

  She slowly shook her head. “No. But let me go ask the cook. She was up before the sun, stoking the kitchen fires.” The servant disappeared down the hall.

  Mohan approached from the other end of the corridor. “Anything?”

  “No. But a servant is checking with the cook.”

  “About?”

  Ilythra sighed. “The head cook is the first one up in the castle.”

  The servant girl approached. Her step faltered when she saw Mohan. Pale pink colored the girl’s cheek before she lowered her gaze. “Cook says she saw a man leavin’ the castle before the sun came up.”

  “Any idea where he went?” Mohan asked.

  The girl shook her head. “He was headin’ toward the stables.”

  “Thank you very much.” Ilythra glanced toward Mohan. The Benai bowed to the servant then touched Ilythra’s arm, leading her back the way he came.

  “Where are we going?” she asked.

  “Always know another way out.”

  After a few twists and turns, they emerged in the courtyard. Even at this early hour, smoke poured from the blacksmith’s forge, though few people walked the dusty streets. In unison they approached the building.

  “Good day.” Mohan leaned a hand on the doorway.

  The man looked up from his bellows, eyes narrowed.

  Ilythra stepped forward. “Can you help me? My friend has been ill with fever and he ran out of his room very early this morning. Have you seen him?” She forced a smile she didn’t feel.

  The blacksmith rubbed his jaw with a gloved hand. “Now that you mention it, saw a lad early. Passed me on my way, he did. In a hurry toward the gate.”

  “Will the gates be open?” she asked.

  He shrugged. “’Bout now. To let the farmers in.”

  “Thank you.”

  Mohan rushed toward the gate, Ilythra following. “Mohan.”

  He wheeled. “What?”

  Ilythra squatted in front of a splatter of rust-colored liquid on the ground. The cobbles were only small, round irregularities surrounded by dirt and filth. She touched a moist stone and brought her fingers to her nose: blood. Mohan joined her, staring dumbly at the liquid. Ilythra walked a few more steps and found a darkened circle as though someone has stood there, bleeding. Mohan still stood over the first splatter. She left him there. It could be nothing—a fishmonger, a dog, anything. But her instincts screamed in protest. A short distance later, she found a footprint in the mud and next to it another puddle of blood, this time bigger. She glanced behind her. Mohan was now following and catching up fast.

  “Ilythra. There is blood all over this place. It could mean anything. I think we should go to the gate before he gets out.”

  “Do you trust me?” she asked.

  Mohan hesitated. “Yes.”

  Ilythra searched the ground, slowly moving forward. Someone had fallen. A bloody smear on the ground where they landed.

  They were nearing the area where the soldiers had practiced the day before. The ground was churned into smelly mud, but Ilythra caught the faint scent of fresh blood. She stopped and looked back at Mohan. His face had lost color. “Wait here.”

  The Benai didn’t meet her eye, his expression unreadable.

  The cobbles ended abruptly as the courtyard opened. The inner wall, free of any buildings, was almost covered in a dark vine. Mohan’s footsteps sounded just behind her. In one direction lay a garden bright with summer vegetables and fruit. In the other direction, a wooden railing enclosed the practice arena and, on one side, a form slumped against a post. Mohan ran, jumping over the fence and then froze a length away from the shape. He fell to his knees. Ilythra rushed after him.

  Tarak’s face was almost unrecognizable. The skin from the left side of his face partially covered his mouth; his cheekbone gleamed dully in the morning light. His eyes had been gauged out and his chest and arms slashed until his clothes bore the color of his life’s blood.

  Ilythra moved to touch Tarak’s neck. There was no pulse. She thought it a mercy. Oh gods, Mohan. Emotion clogged her throat.

  “Who?” Mohan’s voice had little strength. He hadn’t moved.

  Ilythra swallowed. Tarak still clutched a bloodied knife. She kneeled in front of the Benai. “He did it to himself.”

  “Liar!” His arm shot back.

  Ilythra caught his wrist in a steel grip a handbreadth from her face. Tears pooled in the corners of her eyes, blurring her vision. “I’m sorry.”

  She let go as Mohan struggled to stand. “You lie.” His voice broke.

  She wanted to reach out, comfort him, but he was beyond comfort. For a moment it looked like Mohan might charge. Instead, he collapsed to his knees again in front of Tarak. His body convulsed in great, silent sobs.

  “I’m sorry.” Mohan removed the knife from his brother’s hand and threw it across the arena. “I’m so, so sorry.” He reached toward Tarak, his hand hovering over his brother’s body, just shy of touching him. He faced Ilythra. His face ravished with grief. Sorrow deeper than words filled his eyes. “I will return him to my people.”

  * * *

  Mohan tightened the ropes that held the shrouded form of his brother in the small cart, his movements deliberate and slow as though stalling. Ilythra had bought the cart and a horse from the king for more than they were worth, but Mohan had only accepted them after promising to pay her back in full.

  The sun tipped the trees, warming the air and encouraging the smell of waste and refuse permeating the grounds. The castle was coming alive. Soon the lowing of cows waiting to be milked and the rasp of a saw at the miller’s joined the sound of blacksmith bellows.

  Mohan wrinkled his nose. “And they wonder why the Benai prefer the open road.” He looked at Ilythra, his eyes saying what his words could not. “Change your mind. Come with me.”

  She shook her head. Sorrow closed her throat. Mohan’s words had little energy behind them. He was in shock and still hadn’t fully assimilated his brother’s death. She wondered if he ever would. She was his friend and he needed her, but she couldn’t go with him. They’d already had this discussion. She’d done what she had to do. It was time to continue her quest. “I’m going east.”

  Mohan stepped forward, taking her hands in his. His voice was low. “You won’t bring him back.”

  Ilythra blinked back tears. She knew he didn’t mean Tarak or even Bredych, but Zeynel. “That’s not why I’m going.” She closed her eyes. How to explain to him? She couldn’t. She wasn’t entirely sure she knew herself. “It’s complicated. I have to.”

  The Benai stared over her head for several heartbeats. His throat moved as he swallowed. “Please, you need to speak with Taliba.”

  Doubt edged her confidence. “I already spoke with her. It won’t change anything.”

  Mohan stared into the heavens. Sorrow filled his eyes.

  “You could come with me.” Ilythra offered but she already knew the answer. This was goodbye. Her vision blurred.

  “I have a duty to my troupe.” He shook his head. “If I thought revenge would do any good, I’d be going to fight you for that honor. Nothing I do will change what happened to Tarak, certainly not getting killed, and nothing you do will bring back Zeynel.” Mohan took a deep breath, his red-rimmed gaze meeting hers. “I won’t be an instrument in your death.”

&nbs
p; She wiped away the tears now falling down her cheeks. “You think I go to my death?”

  Mohan rubbed his beard, his eyes haggard and framed by dark circles. “I don’t know. But I know it’s foolish to chase someone who has this kind of power. He reached out and killed my brother without lifting a hand.” He gave a wry laugh. “Rather, he used my brother’s hand. What are you going to do if you catch up with him? It would be like having a wild cat by the tail.”

  What would she do? She’d let Teann tell her when the time came. But she had to go. Bredych held too big a piece of the puzzle to ignore. She attempted a smile. “Managed you okay, didn’t I?”

  Mohan’s mouth raised at the corner before his eyes grew serious again. “This man, whoever he is, is dangerous. I know you have a quest and I know the depth of your honor. I know honor, damn it. But please, Ilythra, be careful.”

  Ilythra embraced him, breathing in leather and Mohan’s spicy scent. She didn’t want to let go. “I will be careful.”

  He nodded, took the bridle of the horse in his hand and walked away without a backward glance.

  * * *

  A shout from the parapet filtered down to the dusty road leading to the castle, so faint that by the time it reached Bredych’s ears it was unrecognizable as speech. But he knew they were spreading word of his arrival. When he reached the gate, a horn trumpeted from the heights and Erhard himself stood waiting for him at the castle steps.

  Bredych fixed a smile on his face, inwardly appalled that the king would display a show of such indignity for his subjects. Erhard should have waited in his study, or better yet, let Bredych wait to be summoned. But the king knew little about such things. He wore his power like an uncomfortable coat he wished to take off so he could play. Not that Erhard didn’t enjoy the benefits of his station, he just didn’t deserve them.

  Tossing the reins of his tired horse to a waiting groom, Bredych jumped from the animal and approached the stairs. A step below the king, he bowed, took the king’s hand and made a show of kissing it. “Your Majesty.”

  “Rise, Bredych—you have news. Good, I think?”

  Bredych glanced to the eager ears around him. “Yes, I have news. Perhaps we could retire to your study? I could use a glass of wine to wash the trail dust out of my mouth.”

  “Of course, of course. Please, come.”

  Bredych suppressed a smirk. The king behaved like a child on the first day of Emdarech, waiting for the feast and presents. He brushed the dirt from his coat as best he could and followed the king through the hall. He’d rather be in his own manor, taking a hot bath then being serviced by one of his servants, but he knew if he skirted the castle without stopping, Erhard would believe Bredych had bad news, and he wanted the king in a good mood.

  “So how was your journey?” Erhard asked over his shoulder as soon as they entered Erhard’s rooms.

  Bredych sat on one of the chairs and poured a glass of wine from a chilled carafe. “As you guessed, successful.”

  “So the traders will come?”

  “They will come.”

  “Farial paid for it?”

  He glanced at the pale liquid as he twirled the stem between his thumb and finger. “Yes.”

  Erhard rubbed his hands together. “At long last.”

  “Farial wants the first windows.”

  “Does he?” The king raised his eyebrows, and for a moment Bredych thought he’d clap with glee.

  Definitely a good mood. “At full price, of course. We promised him half the profits, not a discount.”

  Erhard smiled.

  Bredych toyed with the stem of his wineglass for a moment. “We’re to have a visitor within the moon.”

  Pouring his own wine, Erhard sat in the chair opposite Bredych. “Who?”

  “A very interesting woman.” Bredych leaned forward. “Someone I think you’ll like very much.”

  “Who is she?”

  “Mmm. Good question.” Bredych didn’t hide the smile. “We will find out, won’t we?”

  Part Two

  We are children of the wind though our roots are ancient, children of the skies, though we wander the land. We are as delicate and short-lived as the first flower of thaw, but as eternal as memory.

  Chapter Twelve

  Ilythra laid the trader map on a boulder, tracing the lines until her finger rested on Jartas. Greton should be due east past a range of mountains, but the map showed precious little detail about the surrounding land. She glanced east. Mountains rose against the sky, their soft peaks crowned with puffy white clouds. They weren’t nearly as formidable as the Sulang but an obstacle nonetheless.

  Between her and the mountain, a steady stream of smoke rose into the blue. It looked too dark to be a single house. An inn?

  Ilythra rolled the map with care and stowed it in her pack. Tashi was limping. She’d checked her hoof for cracks, thorns or swelling. Nothing. The leg was sound as well, and the horse had no sign of a fever. It wasn’t a pronounced limp, but enough for her to be worried. She glanced toward the smoke. Maybe riding double had been more of a strain on the horse than she’d considered. Either way, Tashi needed to rest.

  Ilythra looped the reins in her hand and swung the pack over her shoulder. “Come on, girl, we’ll both walk the rest of the day.”

  * * *

  A large wooden structure rose in the distance. Ilythra felt relief ease some of the tension from her shoulders. It was an inn. She could have made a permanent camp somewhere along the trail, but she’d prefer to have Tashi in a barn or shelter.

  Several smaller buildings stood to one side of a large structure. Ilythra headed for one of the smaller structures. Heavy wooden doors stood open on two sides of a barnlike building, allowing a slight breeze to bring the scent of hay and manure.

  “Excuse me,” Ilythra called at the doorway.

  A small, potbellied man stepped out of the dim interior; his eyes squinted against the sun.

  A trusting fellow. Ilythra would have let her eyes adjust before revealing herself, but then not everyone thought of defense and offense in every action. She placed a hand on Tashi’s neck. “My horse is limping. Are you the groom?”

  “Aye, I am.” He beckoned her into the barn. “My name is Aldun.”

  “Nice to meet you, Aldun. I’m Ilythra.”

  The man slowly approached Tashi. Instead of immediately inspecting her leg, he stroked her neck and let the horse get used to his scent. Then he reached into his pocket and offered something from the palm of his hand. Finally, he pulled up a stool. “Which one?” he asked in a soft, even tone.

  “Right front.”

  Aldun ran his hand down her leg. He picked up her hoof, inspected it and ran his finger around the hoof wall and the frog. “Can’t see anything wrong with her, miss.” The groom scratched his head and turned hazel eyes on Ilythra. “Have you been riding her hard?”

  “No. Double.”

  “That could be it. She’s a fine animal. Willing to sell her?”

  Ilythra smiled. “No.”

  “Then I reckon you’d better let her rest a few days.”

  Ilythra patted Tashi’s neck as the groom rose and put away the stool. He brought back a bag of grain and sprinkled it over a trough full of hay. When he saw Ilythra watching him, he shrugged. “Every once in a while I like to treat them.”

  “I can see she’s in good hands. I’ll go up to the inn and grab a room.”

  The groom nodded, already reaching for a brush.

  * * *

  Ilythra sat at the bar nursing a cup of ale and listening to the conversation around her. She’d made her usual deal with the innkeeper and had spent the morning treating minor cuts, scrapes and injuries. The delay aggravated her, but it couldn’t be helped. She wouldn’t risk her horse, and Greton w
asn’t going anywhere. A tall, skinny man walked up, twisting a worn hat in both hands, his eyes downcast. “Excuse me. My name is Jarin. I was wondering if you could take a look at my wife. She’s large with our second child.”

  “I’ll come.” She drained her ale, taking as much pity on the hat as the man. The sky in the west bled shades of orange and yellow. “What’s wrong with her?”

  “She’s, um—” he cleared his throat. “She’s bleedin’.”

  “How bad?”

  “Not too bad. I mean, that’s what she says.”

  Ilythra quickened her step.

  The man led her to a small house in the middle of grassland but under the shelter of a mature tree. A small flower garden grew against the opposite side of the house next to a larger vegetable garden. Everything looked neat and cared for.

  The door opened as they approached and a small, blond, very pregnant woman smiled, stepped forward then saw Ilythra and smiled shyly. An equally blond-haired child of about three peeked out from behind the woman’s skirts.

  “Rina, this is Ilythra, the healer. She’s going to make sure everything is okay with you and the baby.”

  “I told you I was okay.” The woman placed one hand on the toddler’s head, the other rest on her stomach.

  “Now, we’ll both be sure.” His voice took on a stubborn cast.

  Ilythra sensed a battle of wills about to take place. “Bleeding late in pregnancy might be nothing,” she said, “but it might be something too. Let me look. I’ll be quick. I think it would ease your husband’s mind.”

  The woman glanced from Ilythra to her husband. “Okay.”

  The little towhead with big blue eyes peeked around Rina’s skirts then darted back.

  “I bet you help your mama around the house.” She glanced toward the man. “I bet you could help your papa for a little bit too.”

  The little head peeked out again.