Guardian Queen: Epic Fantasy Romance (Hardstorm Saga Book 3)

by Dana Marton

  I lost my remaining breath as his torch disappeared, transforming into a dim, spreading light with no source. The shadow I had thought was Batumar grew, rose, and swirled like smoke. Batumar’s beloved voice turned into the slithering, oily voice of Kratos. It felt like a hundred snakes crawling over my bare skin.

  “Lady Tera, welcome back.”

  I turned to run, but I could see no opening that led out of there, could not even find the tunnel that I had just come through. Panic screamed in my mind. How could I have been such a fool?

  Batumar had never found me, and neither had the prince. Both had been illusions to bring me to the god, after he had taken Fadden and Lison away from me. I hoped they yet lived and had found their way back out of the mountain.

  “You pass through my domain once again,” the ancient god said, his tone amused, and not unpleased. “You were meant to serve me. Accept my power and serve me, then, sorceress.”

  I was no sorceress. Nor was I Kratos’s servant. “Never.”

  “Never is a very long time for your kind. Do you want to spend that time as an insect, easily crushed, or a woman with power enough to change her fate and the world?”

  “I serve the light.”

  “Are you not aware that the greater the darkness, the brighter the light?” His words slithered around me and wrapped me up in their slick coils.

  “You need power to save your people,” he whispered. “Or will you let them perish? You have fought long and hard. Is this where you quit?”

  Never. Never. Never. “Why would you help?”

  “I want men to worship me again.”

  As his tone dipped cold, so did the air. I shivered and wrapped my arms around myself. I had slept in snow before and felt not half this chilled.

  “The invaders worship their desert gods,” he said, anger seeping through every syllable as his voice rose to the power of thunder. “My supplicants must return to me.”

  I thought of the bleached bones outside the Mouth of the Mountain and shuddered.

  “Yesss,” he hissed as if he could read my mind. “I demand blood sacrifice. I demand worshippers. I want their blood and their gold and their hearts. I demand a sorceress as my priestess. You, Tera, will bring the people to me. I made the same bargain with your great-grandmother not long ago. I am in your blood already, Tera of the Shahala. Your great-grandmother tried to serve me well, but she was too weak. She did not survive the attempt.” He paused, then added in a smug whisper, “At least she did steal me your scrolls.”

  The god laughed as three scrolls floated above my head, then burst into flames, their ashes drifting down to me. “Seeing one’s fate should not be granted to mere humans. All fools are the gods who make prophets.” A sudden breeze blew the ashes away. “You will be mine, and I will write you a different fate. You are stronger than your great-grandmother. You will be able to carry the weight of my power. I can feel it. You will serve me well.”

  I had to work hard to push the single word through my tight, dry throat. “No.”

  My mind teemed with questions and revelations. No wonder the scrolls in the Sacred Cave held no answers when I had read them. The true prophecies had been here the whole time. How many lives would I have been able to save if I had read them? I asked the god nothing. I held still, awaiting death.

  Instead of delivering a killing blow, the ancient god laughed. “Wonder you not why you keep returning to me? It is your destiny, sorceress.”

  “I am no sorceress.”

  “Not yet. You will be when I grant you power. What power do you wish for? The power over the wind to raise or calm great storms? The power over water to sink ships or to save them? The power over stones to build yourself castles? Or the power over fire to burn your enemies?”

  So, he does have power over the sea, then. Boscor had been wrong about that. I shoved the thought away as it would not help me now.

  “What if I want all four?” I asked, merely to stall for time. I was willing to die for my people, yet too much of a coward to hurry the moment.

  “Then you would be a god.” Kratos’s dark laughter echoed off the rocks, going on longer than it should have.

  The ancient god was a mad god, I thought, but did not dare say the words. He must have considered my silence to be submission, for the veil cleared from my eyes and I could see the enormous chamber truly. A raised, round platform stood in the middle, three giant, carved columns around it, holding up the ceiling. I could see the opening to the tunnels on one side of the chapel and a single doorway on the other.

  Toward that opening I ran, and Kratos did not stop me. “Bring me blood,” he called after me instead. “You took what was mine, in Rabeen. You freed them from the sacrifice holes. Those two were meant for me.”

  Ina and her daughter.

  “I took your Fadden and Lison instead, but I am hungry yet. Bring me a new sacrifice,” the god demanded. “Bring me offerings. If you do not, I will come for you. I will find you. I will fetch you back.”

  I kept going. If I but had a chance to save my people first, the ancient god could have me.

  Nothing but darkness waited up ahead as I ran from Kratos. I moved forward as fast as I could, and soon found myself in a chamber that had a familiar feel. Instead of the uneven cave floor, I walked on smooth tile. I knew this place. If memory served right, the ceiling did not narrow here, no sharp turns. I kept my hands out in front of me anyway, so I would have warning of the opposite wall before I slammed into it. Then I did bump into something at last, and I felt the cold iron of the door that connected the caves to the palace.

  Tears burned my eyes. I made it. I am here.

  I ran my hands over the sheet of iron that blocked my way. When I had first seen the door, from the other side, it had been chained and padlocked. Vooren had the key. After seeing us through The Mouth of the Mountain, he had returned this way. Had he locked the door behind him?

  My plan had been, that if I found the door locked, Fadden and Lison would lift it off its hinges. I wasted no time wishing they were here. Instead, I braced my feet and shoved my shoulder against the hard metal.

  The door did not budge.

  I tried again. And again, and again, and again.

  Then, as I strained and strained, the iron scraped on the stone with a terrible screech, and an opening appeared, slowly growing to a hand’s width. I stopped pushing and reached through into the darkness that waited there. I felt the silk of the flags that hid the door from the other side. Vooren must have restored everything the way it had been when we had first come down here.

  I pulled my hand back and jammed my shoulder against the door again. I rocked it back and forth. Sweat rolled down my face. I grunted. I heaved. I was able to widen the opening another small measure, but there the door stuck, and I heard the chain snap tight.

  Vooren had padlocked the door, but he had not been able to fully tighten the heavy chain. He was an old man, not much stronger than I. The slack in the chain allowed a gap, not enough to let through a warrior, but…

  I had lost weight during the days I struggled my way through the caves—and before, while I had been held captive on that boat. I sucked in my flat belly and wedged myself into the opening. I shoved hard enough to scrape off skin. My hips fit, so did my shoulders, sideways, but my head held me stuck, held me prisoner of the caves.

  I groaned my frustration into the darkness. I had not come this far to fail here. The castle was on the other side, the city of Karamur, and Batumar, heading toward the city gates.

  I yanked harder, as hard as I could, holding my breath. I ignored the hair I lost and the pain, yanking so hard, I feared my skull would crack. I fought that door until I finally fell through to the other side, knocking over a pile of flags, then I lay there amongst them for a moment, every inch of my body sore, my scalp on fire.

  A single torch burned at the very end of a long hallway. I had not seen its dim light before, with the flags between us, but now I gave thanks for that flickering fl
ame to the spirits. No more stumbling around in darkness.

  I was in the High Lord’s palace. Filled with hope, I pushed to my feet and drew a ragged breath. I did not have the strength to close the door behind me, but I took care to hide it again with the flags, leaning the flagpoles against the wall, row over row until the opening was fully concealed.

  As I moved forward, I did not bother with stealth. I was covered in sweat, dust, and blood, my clothes rent. I could easily pass for one of the unfortunate captives the Kerghi had pressed into service.

  I needed to see Karamur. I wanted to learn as much as I could about the occupation and damage, about the enemy’s plans, then find someone Kadar and get him out of the fortress city and to Batumar, with whatever information I gathered. Then I needed to find still more allies and a way to open the drawbridge in the middle of the night—once our troops arrived.

  I limped down the hallway, then up the stairs. I thought I might find some Kadar in the dungeons there, but instead of men, I saw only wooden crates locked behind the bars.

  Curiosity drew me closer. I reached through those bars and wedged my finger under the lid of the nearest crate to pry it open, but it would not budge. Iron nails held the wood in place. I tried another crate, then another. The largest one of them all was the one that finally gave.

  The lid opened with a creak, and I held my breath but heard no footsteps on the stairs. Nobody came. I lifted the lid a little higher and bent to peek inside.

  A mass of gold coins glinted at me. The khan’s treasure. Here hid the means to finance the empire of his dark dreams.

  Kratos’s voice echoed in my ears. I demand blood sacrifice. I demand worshippers. I want their blood and their gold and their hearts.

  I shivered, then left the gold behind and went up the next set of stairs. Two Kerghi guards slept in the hallway, sitting up against the wall. I slipped past the men, careful not to kick or trip on the empty mead flasks scattered on the floor around them. Then I used the back hallways to find my way to the servants’ quarters. There had to be at least a few Kadar servants left in the castle.

  I was halfway to my destination when a dozen Kerghi soldiers passed me, hurrying down the hallway. They were young, no more than boys, with ill-fitting armor that looked like it might have been taken off corpses. They seemed intent on their purpose, as if a harsh commander was waiting for them somewhere. I pressed myself against the wall to let them by. They paid me no attention.

  Around the corner, however, I ran into two more men, both well past their twentieth summers, and these slowed to give me a closer inspection. Their armor was decorated instead of plain leather. They wore well-made boots and carried better than average swords, the pommels engraved. Captains?

  I stopped and bowed, as a servant might, letting them pass by.

  They stopped in front of me instead.

  “You had this one yet?” one asked the other, his gaze lingering on my chest. He licked his fleshy lips, then he sniffed at me, with a nose as bulbous as a chunk of ginger root. “Smells better than the rest. I don’t mind sweat, but I’m growing tired of smelling half the army on a woman before I get my turn.”

  “Where are you going, girl?” The skinny one reached out to touch my hair. He had cruel eyes, his eyebrows touching each other to form a single straight line.

  I bent my head again and kept it down this time. “To the kitchen.”

  He stepped forward until I backed all the way to the wall, and he still kept coming. His hips ground against mine. “The kitchen can wait. You come with us to the barracks first.”

  “I beg your pardon.” I turned from his fetid breath. “But I was ordered—”

  He eased back, then grabbed me by the shoulder, pulled me from the wall, and shoved me down the hall. “I’ll be doing the ordering. When you talk to me, wench, all I want to hear is, Yes, Captain.” He snorted. “Do you understand me, you dim-witted bitch?”

  “Yes, Captain.” I gritted my teeth as I walked.

  Could I outrun them? Probably not. I was weak with hunger. But if I could not run…at least I could walk faster.

  Back here in this oldest part of the castle, the hallways were narrow and short with as many turns as a labyrinth. The castle had started as a keep, then rooms and entire wings were added on later. We would have to take a dozen turns in order to reach the barracks. If I got ahead of the men on one of those turns, I could quickly step into a room, then cut through to another and another. I sped up my steps. I had lived in this castle, and I knew its warrens. I could get away from the men.

  “Look at the eager little slut go,” Ginger Nose said behind me and laughed. “They all protest at the beginning. But at the end, they all spread themselves and beg for it.”

  His mean-eyed friend laughed with him and called after me, “Are you going to beg, wench?”

  I was around the corner. A row of doors dotted the wall ahead. The third one led to the laundry. In the back of the laundry was another hallway, then stairs, back to the basement, to the room where the coal was kept. The coal chute would take me out of the castle.

  I was at that third door and reaching for the handle when a servant woman came around the corner straight ahead.

  Onra! My good friend.

  When I’d left for the mainland with Batumar, Onra was her own mistress, living with her baker husband above their bakery on the main square of the city. Even now, having been forced into servitude at the palace, she wore a white baker’s apron. The khan must have had her brought to the castle’s kitchen.

  As my heart leaped with joy that she was alive, she stopped. Then a shout burst from her, loud with excitement. “Lady Tera!” She ran forward. “Is Lord Batumar here? Are we liberated?”

  The two soldiers came around the corner behind me just then.

  “A lady, eh?” They had me the next moment.

  “You get your filthy hands off her!” Onra recklessly grabbed the man to pull him away, even as tears welled in her eyes, her gaze hanging on my face. “You are back! Oh, thank the goddesses.”

  The soldier easily shook her off, but she was not deterred. She grabbed for my hand next.

  She had lost weight since I had last seen her. A purple mark bloomed on her cheekbone, her blonde hair loose and disheveled. She gave up on moving the men away from me, but she did not step back. She stood there, looking at me with wonder as her tears spilled over. “You will help me find my Miko? They have taken him up the mountain. My lady…” Her voice broke. “We have seen dark days since you’ve left.”

  The two soldiers exchanged a calculating look. “Better see what Khan Verik says.” Ginger Nose grabbed Onra by the arm. “You come with us, wench. If the khan takes your lady from us, you will take her place.”

  He grabbed me next and dragged the both of us forward, his fingers biting into my already bruised skin as we went. Away from the servants’ quarters where I might yet find help. Away from any chance of being able to help Batumar. As the second soldier fell in step behind us, I wanted to scream with despair.

  “Are there any other Kadar in the castle?” I whispered to Onra under my breath instead.

  More tears rushed into her eyes. “The soldiers and castle guards were all slaughtered. Most of the women were raped, then taken up the mountain. The Kerghi kept a few dozen of us for serving wenches, but they said they’ll take us too, next.”

  “I am glad your Miko survived. We will get him back. I swear.”

  “They let him live because he’s a good baker. They kept the blacksmith too, and the fletcher. They said skilled men fetch a high price at the slave markets.”

  I thought of all the people of the castle that I knew and loved. Natta, the smiley servant girl who never failed to cheer me up. I grieved for her. I even grieved for Arnsha and the other concubines Batumar had inherited from his brother Gilrem. I grieved for our guards and the people of the city. I grieved for their children.

  Then we walked by a window and the north tower caught my eye. The great tower
lay in a charred ruin. I did not think the Kerghi had siege engines.

  “What happened?” I asked in a whisper as we passed by.

  “Lord Samtis sought to enlarge the tower. He thought he had time. He did not expect the Kerghi to come back down the mountain. The Kerghi fire arrows set the scaffolding on fire, but it hurt them more than us. When the enemy soldiers poured in, the tower collapsed on top of them. It killed nearly as many of them as our defending forces did.” Onra’s voice thickened. “In their fury, the Kerghi cut down a hundred captured men and women.”

  The mercenary marching us forward shook us. “Shut up, the both of you. Or I’ll knock out your teeth.”

  I could not have spoken if he gave permission, for just then we passed by another window, one that looked out to the practice yard, and Onra’s words became flesh. Rotting corpses decorated the walls, hung by the neck. Nearly all missed a body part or two, a foot, an arm, a nose. They had been tortured before they were killed.

  In the middle of the practice yard stood the remains of a giant funeral pyre. All had not burned. I saw charred arms. I saw the blackened corpses of tiny suckling babes. I whispered the Last Blessing over them. The massacre of Rabeen haunted me still, and I knew I would never forget this courtyard either. I would see the dead for as long as I lived.

  My heart broken, I turned to the man who held me captive. He would have taken part in the massacre. Which one of my friends had he killed?

  “Release us at once! I am the Lady Tera, and I tell you true, you will regret this.” I tried to yank my arm free, but I failed.

  The two Kerghi captains were many times stronger than Onra and I, and fully armed. Fighting them had no chance of succeeding. And their khan… I had no illusions about what would happen when I was presented to him. Khan Verik had sent an assassin after me.

  The plain truth was: the khan wanted me dead.

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  (Tera)

  A dozen Kerghi guards stood around the perimeter of the Great Hall when we entered. Khan Verik himself sat straight ahead, scowling on a white throne made of bleached bones, shouting at one of his commanders in a language I did not understand. Nor could I truly focus on the words. A grisly sight on the wall behind the khan drew my attention.