Much as I hated coming to this point, maybe it was finally time to offer farewells to my family and friends, as well as to life on Earth. All those dreams of finishing college, one day taking over the paper from my dad, and someday getting married and starting my own family… Maybe they weren’t meant to be. All that had transpired told me it was time to let go and leave them behind—forever, I feared.
I struggled to harden my heart against bittersweet memories, to form a tenuous amity at the idea of being here. I may as well, with nothing else to lose. Everything I’d once held dear had been cruelly stripped away. Was it possible to gain some of it back? Was I truly the Artan, the woman destined to save these people from the Dark Powers? Did I possess the strength and courage to be a heroine? A savior? A deliverer?
That, I didn’t know, but this I did: if I was ever going to be anything more than miserable and depressed, I had to rise above these circumstances. I had to stop letting regret rule my life. I needed to find a new path, and I needed to set out on it, stick to it, and see where it might lead. Gathering my courage, I vowed to do exactly that, to leave home and everything I’d lost in the past. Obviously, I would always love, regret, and miss them, but I simply couldn’t let sorrow drag me down. By accepting the inevitable, I would try to make the best of my circumstances—if any best even existed when I might have to spend the rest of my life here in a foreign land, Joined to a Simathe.
The job wouldn’t be easy, but knowing my family back home still loved and missed me gave me strength. It gave me the determination to do what I had to do. I knew they wouldn’t forget me even though they went on with their lives, like I wouldn’t forget them as I went on with mine.
Deciding to get on with my life and deciding how to get on with it were two very different things. For the next day or two, I was at a loss with how to proceed. I’d heard nothing from the Simathe High-Chief since our Joining. Did he think his duty was now done, and he planned to ignore me? Was he maybe giving me some space to adjust? Maybe he was giving himself space to adjust. Who knew? What I did know was I was going to go stir crazy from boredom if I didn’t find something to do. Soon.
To keep myself occupied, I decided to sort through the belongings that’d been sent for me. Besides the modest trunk at the foot of my bed, another one, larger and far more ornate, stood in the far corner. A couple more were next to it. I hadn’t really gone through any of them yet except to retrieve basic necessities. Now, unpacking my trunks felt like opening treasure chest after treasure chest. It was nearly unbelievable all the items that had been provided for me: clothing, books, shoes, paper and ink for drawing or writing, perfume, lotions, ointments, and even a couple of old-fashioned board games—although who I was supposed to play those with, I couldn’t imagine.
I had to laugh when I imagined challenging some of the silent warriors around here to a game of Monopoly, Clue, Battleship, or any of the other games my siblings and I used to play.
Boy, that’d be a rousing match.
All the squabbling and arguing we used to do—they’d probably think we were nuts. I could see these guys sitting down to one of those chess matches that lasted for days on end, when one player might take hours to decide a single move. Myself, I’d never had the patience for that type of thing, or any sort of game that required a great deal of strategy.
Hate to think what that says about my personality, I thought, beginning to arrange some of my new belongings. Probably nothing good about my chances of success as the Artan.
Leaving the games in their trunk, I retrieved my new mirror, comb, hairbrush, ribbons, pins, hairnets, jewelry, and various other small accessories and laid them out on the empty shelves fixed to the walls. In the trunk at the base of my bed were carefully folded dresses of a simpler nature, constructed for work and heavier wear. Some I left there, while others I removed and placed in the plain armoire taking up one corner of the room. In the most ornate trunk was an assortment of beautiful gowns, obviously intended for formal occasions. With no idea when they might be needed, I put them away with a sigh, letting my fingers rest lovingly on their soft, shimmering fabrics before closing the lid.
My shoes I lined up parallel to the wall. There were six pairs in all: leather boots, satin slippers, and sandals—one pair elegant and the other sturdy. After cleaning the boots I’d worn here, I placed them with the rest. My books went on other shelves, and the pen, ink, and paper on the simple desk under my window.
Finally, having nothing further to do with myself, I went to sit on the bed, thinking about Lord Ilgard, the Simathe High-Chief. Ever since our strange Joining, thoughts of the tall warrior were never far away. They lurked beneath the surface, always ready to spring to the forefront of my brain. I flopped against the pillows with a groan.
Insufferable man.
Practically from the moment we met, he’d either bossed me around or tried to intimidate me. However, I hadn’t seen hide nor hair of him for nearly a week now.
Why is he avoiding me? Is he avoiding me? What am I supposed to do about him?
Rolling over onto my stomach, I bunched up a pillow under my chin, staring hard at the dark, wooden headboard as if it could unlock the secrets of the black-haired, black-eyed warrior haunting my thoughts and dreams these past few days.
Joined till death. What a thought! Would I ever be wholly myself? Did he know what I was thinking right now, at this very moment?
I sighed in frustration. Sometimes the not knowing was worse than the actual knowing. At least, that was proving to be the case here.
By the following evening, I’d had enough solitude, introspection, and contemplation of the enigmatic Simathe High-Chief to last me a lifetime. I decided it was time to leave my room. Time to seek him out, talk to him, and find out, What now? Now that we were inseparably Joined. It was time to have it out.
I began rummaging through my armoire and the trunk at the foot of my bed, trying to decide what to wear. In the back of my mind, I knew I wanted to make an impression, but what kind? Nothing seemed right. Among my choices were the simpler dresses I assumed passed for everyday wear among Aerisian women, and my own clothing from Earth. Then there were the beautiful gowns of silks, satins, laces, brocades…
I pivoted on my knees to stare at the fancifully carved trunk containing those gowns. Should I wear one of them? They would certainly create an impression; let the man see I was a woman.
I had to laugh at that.
Obviously Lord Ilgard of the Simathe knew I was a woman in the sense of being female, but I doubted very much that he really saw me as a woman, and maybe even an attractive woman at that. Yes, wearing one of those lovely dresses in the male-only hallowed halls of Treygon would definitely be a novelty.
Butterfly wings fluttered in my stomach as I decided my course. Going to the trunk containing my finery, I raised the heavy lid and sorted through its contents until I found the gown I wanted. Retrieving it from among the rest, I held it up, admiring the play of candlelight on its delicately woven fabric.
Sometime later I left my bedroom, shutting the door behind me. My satin slippers whispered on the stone floor as I headed in the direction where (I hoped my memory wasn’t failing me) the dining hall was located. Sky-blue fabric stirred at my heels with every step, making me smile. I couldn’t deny getting all dolled up had boosted both my mood and my self-esteem.
The color of an autumn sky, the gown’s rich fabric slid over my body with the smoothness of satin. The skirt skimmed the floor and flared at the bottom, rippling and swaying with the tiniest of movements. Delicate, dark blue embroidery decorated the hem and sprawled upward, contrasting gently with the lighter-colored background. A single strap over my right shoulder left the other bare, and where strap and neckline met, a silver brooch was pinned. This unusual trinket was a round hoop from which dangled four tiny tassels, also of silver. The right side of the skirt was slashed from ankle to knee, revealing a panel of sheer organdy.
Around my throat I wore the necklace Lord
Elgrend had given to me. The color of the gown was a perfect foil for the stone’s whimsical beauty. My earrings were smaller versions of the gown’s shoulder brooch. I’d pulled my hair back from my face, weaving it into a loose braid. Done up like this, I felt confident, ready to face the man who’d rocked my world by bringing me into his—into Treygon.
With minor difficulty and only one wrong turn, I found the spacious, open lobby at whose far end were the heavy double doors, now closed upon the fortress’s dining hall. Although I didn’t have a watch, I suspected this would be the place to find the Simathe and their lord. My own supper hadn’t been brought yet, and I was pretty sure it usually came around this time.
Outside the hall I hesitated, collecting my courage. Then, taking a deep breath, I placed both hands on one of the thick doors before me and gave it a push.
Grand Entrance
They were partaking of the evening meal when one of the doors to the dining hall unexpectedly swung inward. Ilgard felt rather than saw Norband’s hand reach for his sword. Those appointed to serve entered through one of the three small entryways behind the head table where Ilgard, his Chief Captain, and a half-dozen other lords were seated. Those not assigned elsewhere were gathered already for the first shift.
Who, then, dared enter?
The High-Chief knew, had known since she left her chamber. The nearer she drew, the stronger his unsettling awareness of her. When she paused outside the doors, he sensed the nervousness warring with anticipation. He caught a glimpse of blue, and then she was there, slipping through the door and leaning against it. It latched with a muted click. She straightened, and every warrior in the hall, taking his cue from the High-Chief and Chief Captain, rose to his feet.
Uncertainty. The desire to be seen. An urge to run away. The emotions coursing through her tingled beneath the surface of his skin.
At first she only stood there, looking about the room. Then, bravely challenging them all, she took a step forward. Then another. Then another. With head held high, she passed through the silent ranks of his men, her gown swishing about her feet. The sound echoed in the otherwise quiet hall.
Reaching the dais where he stood, she climbed the steps gracefully and kept moving toward him. Their eyes locked, and in the clear green and brown of hers he read resolve: a resolve to be intimidated no longer by Treygon, the Simathe, or even himself. Her chin tilted up, her gaze not wavering from his as it usually did.
Breaking the visual contact, the warrior-lord dropped his own gaze, taking her in with a glance. Tonight, she was undeniably beautiful. Her gown was well suited to her coloring and frame and was undoubtedly a creation of the Spinners. Her mahogany hair shone in the golden torchlight, looking soft to the touch. When he bent to ease her chair to the table, he caught the subtle fragrance of roses.
Food was brought, and as soon as the company was seated she began to eat. No one in the room stared openly, but more cautious glances were cast her way than the High-Chief cared to count. They had all seen women before, though never in Treygon. Bad enough to have one here at all, but when, with her small frame, oddly colored hair, and mismatched eyes, she was as different from any other as night is from day, who could withstand glancing her way? Her abrupt transformation from a frightened, barefoot waif dressed in too-large men’s clothing to a stunning noblewoman in a remarkable gown helped nothing, either.
Despite the differences both outward and inward, despite what their fellow Aerisians swore of them, despite what the Simathe may have thought of themselves, the Simathe were human. Were men.
For himself, Ilgard refused to look. He would not give her the satisfaction. No need for the lass to know how her ploy had succeeded. That Treygon’s warriors now saw her not just as a guest, not just as a girl, but as the woman she truly was. And not merely a woman, at that. Tonight she was far more. Tonight she was a queen.
The Artan.
Planning
Supper finished, Ilgard rose to pull out my chair, then surprised me by offering his arm. Taken aback, I stared stupidly for a moment before realizing what he was doing. When I did, I can’t say I didn’t feel a tiny thrill of victory.
Showed you another side tonight, didn’t I?
Obviously he’d gotten my point, because he’d never demonstrated this much respect in the past. Taking his arm, I permitted him to escort me down the central red runner, past scores of silently standing, silently watching warriors. We didn’t exchange a word until the doors had closed behind us, leaving the other Simathe behind.
There, outside the dining hall, Ilgard turned to face me. “You wished to speak with me, my lady?”
How did he—?
Oh yeah… the Joining.
I’d been told he wouldn’t be able to read my mind, per se, but would probably guess a lot of what I was thinking. Which was totally unfair. He already towered head and shoulders above me, a fact I resented. He hardly needed any extra advantages.
I kept all this to myself, though, saying simply, “Yes, I did.”
“Very well. If my lady will accompany me to my quarters, we may speak there.”
I nodded, and he began escorting me there…wherever there was. I hadn’t explored Treygon enough to have any idea how it was laid out or where his quarters might be.
Along the way, I mulled over how the evening had gone. If I’d been hoping for slack-jawed admiration over me in this gown, I was sadly disappointed. He’d done little more than flick a glance over me before retreating into his impenetrable Simathe shell. My end of the Joining didn’t allow me to feel what he felt, so I had no way of knowing how much of an impression I’d actually made. I knew I had to have made some progress; my earlier victory confirmed it. But shouldn’t there have been a little more?
So much for having the magic touch with men, and them being putty in your hands, I thought sardonically, remembering my past boast to my sister.
Even his men had basically ignored me, as usual. Just what did it take to get a reaction from these guys? After all, I was the only female around here, which ought to count for something. Shouldn’t they be vying for my attention? Either I was a major Plain Jane, or else they were truly weird…which sort of confirmed my suspicions that they fell a bit shy of being completely human.
I slid a glance up at my companion’s carved profile and couldn’t suppress a shiver. It would seem my resolve to be intimidated no longer by him and his men needed a little more work.
When we entered the High-Chief’s quarters, Ilgard left me to light candles while my eyes strained to pierce the gloom. At length, the lighting satisfactory, he motioned me to a chair in front of the huge hearth. There was a fire already laid, waiting to be lit, but he didn’t take the trouble to do so.
My eyes skimmed the room while I lowered myself into the seat, and I took stock of its furnishings, finding it rather stark and bare. A great, masculine desk dominated one corner of the room, and a matching chair crouched behind it. Bookshelves alongside the far wall met the ceiling and were filled with heavy volumes and flimsy scrolls. The walls themselves were Treygon’s common, tan stone, and their only adornments were various kinds of weapons. Light from a nearby candle glinted on a particularly wicked blade with serrated edges. My lower lip curled as my vivid imagination conjured up a mental picture of that thing tearing into flesh, the strong arms of a Simathe wielding it.
Besides these few items, the candles shining from several points about the room, the two chairs before the fireplace—one of which I was sitting on—and a huge animal skin of some kind stretched between the chairs and the hearth were the room’s only other trimmings. As the Simathe lord seated himself opposite me, I pushed off my slipper to wriggle my toes through the sprawling fur. It was surprisingly plush, although its ocher color was downright ugly. I peeked up to find the High-Chief watching me—or rather, watching my foot burrow around in the soft depths.
“Is it to your liking, my lady?”
If he found this funny, neither the tone of his voice nor the exp
ression on his face said so. I was hardly surprised. It was taking some time, but maybe I was slowly becoming accustomed to looking at Ilgard and his men and seeing no facial expressions. If he’d been smiling, then I think I would’ve been surprised.
“Well, it’s really soft,” I replied, hedging a forthright answer. There wasn’t much about Treygon that I honestly liked. “What is it?”
“Deathcat.”
“Deathcat, huh? Hey, isn’t that what you said attacked your men that night on the trail?”
“Aye, the same.”
“Mmmm.” I raised my eyebrows as if to say, How interesting.
At a loss for words, I bent to retrieve my shoe, slipping it back on. Crossing one leg over the other, I swung my foot back and forth, waiting for something else from the man across from me. It was a wait in vain. He just stared into the darkened fireplace and held his peace.
Well, this is getting us nowhere fast.
He was so tight lipped, and I was nervous. If this kept up, we’d never get anywhere.
Looks like it’s up to me, as always, I sighed.
“Ilgard?” I began, dropping formalities for good. Somehow, after everything we’d been through, it felt awkward to call him by his formal title.
Those alien black eyes flicked up. “My lady?”
“We…we need to talk.”
“As you wish.”
Staring up at the ceiling high overhead, I knotted the fingers in my lap.
“Now that we’ve been Joined, I need to know what I’m supposed to do. I mean—” I met the solemn gaze fastened on my face “—what am I going to be doing here at Treygon? Am I supposed to stay on here, or will you take me back to Laytrii?”
The Sunset Lands Beyond (The Complete Series, Books 1-3): An epic portal fantasy boxed set Page 20