The Sunset Lands Beyond (The Complete Series, Books 1-3): An epic portal fantasy boxed set

by Sarah Ashwood

  “We are Joined, are we not?”

  “I know.” I rose from a sitting position on the bed where he’d placed me. “But I thought maybe, with you being so far away and all, you wouldn’t…I mean, the Joining wouldn’t allow for distances and such.”

  It was a stumbling speech, but he got the message.

  “No, my lady. Before you retired last evening, I sensed your anticipation, your scheming. Knowing your occasional lack of forethought, I thought it best to return straightway.”

  Occasional lack of forethought? I supposed that was a nice term for idiotic plans.

  “Where did you go in the first place?”

  “To fetch the fairy, naturally.”

  Aureeyah? Why did he go get her?

  Before I could ask, he added, “My lady acted very foolishly.”

  “I know,” I admitted quietly, hanging my head.

  What could I say? It was true. If he had come right out and called my plans idiotic, I could hardly have argued.

  “I hope my lady now understands the necessity for our Joining,” he continued. “When my warriors discovered you missing they began to search, but, had we not been Joined, I wouldn’t have known to return when I did. I wouldn’t have known where you went. Had we not been Joined, had you been destroyed, Aerisia’s hopes would have perished with you.”

  Peering up through my lashes, I observed his face as he spoke. Outwardly, he was as cool and impassive as always, yet this was probably the longest speech I’d ever heard him make.

  When he fell silent, I clutched his cloak tighter about myself, feeling an urge to say something. To do something. To reassure him. To thank him. At that moment, I realized Cole had been right all along. At that moment, I was grateful to this strange man for Joining with me. I was even humbled by it.

  As I stared up into those rough-hewn features, I felt a curious movement in my soul…a sweet something I’d never felt before. Not for him, not for any other man. It was more than attraction. It was a stirring, a captivation that began in the heart, not the flesh. It bade me approach, made me want to speak, want to express my gratitude.

  I didn’t stop to think. If I had, I never would’ve had the courage to act.

  Rising on tiptoes, I pressed close against him, laying a hand to his cheek and bringing his face down to mine. I felt him stiffen, probably from shock as I boldly brushed a kiss down his unshaven jaw before letting my hand fall, slide around his neck. Hugging him hard, I allowed my actions and all I knew he could read in my heart to speak for themselves. When I finally released him, I stepped away, whispering a soft, “Thank you. For everything. I promise—I promise I’ll try to do better. Really, I will. No more running off haphazard for me.”

  He said nothing. Only looked. For an instant, I thought he would take me in his arms and was shocked by how wildly I wanted him to. He didn’t, though. Instead, he nodded once, just once, and made his way quickly from my room.

  Strangely disappointed, I stared at the closed door a long time before moving woodenly to take advantage of the bath I’d found prepared and waiting for me upon my arrival.

  Nightmares

  Tonight, the Simathe High-Chief did not trust his lady’s safekeeping merely to the guards stationed at opposite ends of her corridor. Tonight, he also kept watch, leaning against the wall outside her door, refusing to leave, unable to rest. Weary in body and soul, he scrubbed a hand roughly over his face. When he found his fingers lingering on the spot where she’d pressed her mouth for a kiss, he jerked them down. Angry, he stared at them as though they belonged to a stranger’s hand instead of his own that had served him for three thousand years.

  Tonight, he felt every one of those years.

  Crossing his arms, he relaxed his weight against the stone wall. Lifting his face to the ceiling, he closed obsidian eyes, drawing and releasing a deep breath.

  Never had he experienced the sheer terror he’d felt today. It had been hers, of course, but as he sped up the mountainside in pursuit of her, her terror had become his. His only thought that he must find her, the girl’s fear had been a magnet drawing him as steadily to her as rains from the heavens fall to the earth. Then, to break free of the trees, only to find that creature in the very act of forcing himself upon her…

  The warrior swallowed hard, tasting afresh the fear, the rage, the hatred filling him at the scene. Without stopping to think, he’d leapt from the back of his Restless, plunging his yedin deep in the creature’s back.

  The creature. Jonase.

  She had no conception of what that being truly was. Ilgard knew, and he cursed himself bitterly for having left her alone. He wanted to curse his warriors, as well. How could they have permitted this to happen? Norband. Cole. Kan, stationed to guard her door. Any one of them could have—should have—prevented this.

  He’d restrained himself, however, when Kan had come to him with the entire tale as soon as he departed the Artan’s chambers. Knowing himself at fault, Kan had delivered his account unflinchingly. No details were spared. Whatever the man may have expected as punishment for his misstep, he was certainly unprepared for his High-Chief to dispatch him back to his post. Many would be astonished at such leniency. Ilgard, though, knew that having once been beguiled, the younger warrior would now be doubly on guard against any similar tricks.

  Truth be told, the warrior-lord supposed he could place but slight blame upon Kan for permitting himself to be fooled by the young Artan. Compared to others of his race, the man was young—far younger even than Cole, having only recently exchanged other pursuits for a warrior’s life. Watching a corridor had been considered a simple task. However, Norband, who’d stationed him there, could little have foreseen the resiliency of this woman who, by all rights, ought to have been hiding away in her bedchamber and avoiding contact with her hosts as much as possible. Certainly, she should not have been bold enough to orchestrate an escape from Treygon. But she had. And Kan, unfamiliar with women and their ways, had succumbed only too easily to her deceit.

  Ilgard shook his head in wry disbelief, thinking that women were not only difficult to decipher but impossible to predict. And this one—her unpredictability was matched only by her powers of transformation. She’d arrived in Treygon a wet, bedraggled waif but had appeared in the dining hall several evenings past in a splendid gown, looking as fetching as a fairy. If she had not done that, perhaps Kan would not have neglected his duty.

  In an attempt to work out the mystery of the Artan, he let his mind carry him back through the days he’d known her: from the first glimpse of her at Laytrii as she huddled, sobbing, in Moonkind Rittean’s arms, to seeing her fall clumsily to the balcony floor. Looking small and lost in the overlarge clothing provided for her first night in Treygon, then lovely in the shimmering Spinner’s gown of blue. Almost warrior-like as she took to their training fields for practice with her bow, and last of all to her trembling silently in that torn dress until he’d covered her with his own cloak.

  Groaning deep within, the Simathe pushed aside those fascinating images of the dark-haired, captivating young woman. Had she been as other maidens of Aerisia, she would not affect him this way. Had she not been Joined to him, did he not taste her every tear and joy and pang like they were his own, he would not think of her after this fashion.

  But she was.

  And he did.

  Although he strove mightily to think of other things, for once the famed Simathe ability to imprison and quash all unwanted thoughts and feelings failed him, and Ilgard found himself replaying over and over again the sensation of her lips brushing his skin…

  Aureeyah had offered to sit with her for the night, but in the end his lady had declined, saying she wished only to sleep.

  As the fairy departed, she placed a hand on Ilgard’s arm, saying in private tones, “She may not sleep as she thinks she will. Both her fear and dreams may keep her awake. If she calls, you will attend her?”

  He’d given his word. Yet, in the aftermath of his own priva
te war, the High-Chief found himself wishing the fairy had stayed and hoping the lass would not call. For a time it seemed this would be the case. Several hours crawled by, and she made not a sound. Within himself, he felt her inner workings keeping pace with her deep, even breaths. She slept, and all was peaceful.

  Then it happened.

  First, he felt a vague disquiet—unsettling, worrisome. As it increased, she grew restless. From behind her closed door he heard quiet moans and the bed’s muffled squeaks. Finally, the panic erupted into a tidal wave that smashed her cruelly. As it crested, she began to scream.

  Without thought, he threw open the door, dashing into the chamber and to her side. Although she still slept, her sleep must have been wracked by nightmares. Her body was rigid with fear. Sweat glistened on her face, mingling with the tears streaming down her cheeks. Her hands clenched the twisted blankets so tightly that her knuckles were white.

  Bending over her, he grasped her by the shoulders and gave her a shake. “My lady?” She did not awaken. Her cries grew louder. “Lady Hannah, wake up, my lady!”

  Her eyes flew open mid-scream, and she bolted upright in the bed. Huge eyes of brown and green sought his. “Ilgard,” she panted, “oh thank goodness!” She covered her face with trembling hands. “It was a dream. Just a dream. Only a dream, Hannah, just a dream…”

  He was unsure what to do, but sank down beside her, pulling her hands from her face. They were cold. Much too cold. He set to rubbing them briskly between his own, trying to warm them. She breathed heavily, unaware of his ministrations, her gaze fixed on some distant point over his shoulder. Her stare was glassy and vague. She did not notice when Kan, having heard the screams, poked his head into the bedchamber to inquire, “Is my lady well?”

  Ilgard continued to chafe her icy hands. “Aye, merely a dream. Resume your post.”

  Nodding, the other man left, securing the door behind him.

  “Lady Hannah?”

  He knew he must bring her out of this, yet she didn’t seem to hear his voice. In all his years, he’d never faced such a situation. What would an ordinary man do? Gather her close? Shake her? Make her cry?

  Acting on instinct, he released her hands and grasped her once more by the shoulders, turning her body toward his.

  “My lady,” he repeated, more forcibly this time, squeezing her shoulders harder. “My lady, look at me, please.”

  She jolted, startled, but finally looked up into his face. “Ilgard.” She whispered his name as if noticing him there for the first time. “It was so awful. I was dreaming, I thought—”

  She stopped. Closing her eyes, she wilted, dropping her forehead onto his chest. “But it was just a dream,” she murmured. “Only a dream.”

  Stiff, the Simathe was uncertain what to do. Through their bond he sensed her nerves strung tight, her emotions raw, her need for comfort. Should he call the fairy? He was afraid to disturb the Artan, even for that. Hoping to soothe her, he slid an arm about her waist and with his free hand set to rubbing her back in slow, circular motions. This close, he could hear her breathing and inhale the scent of her damp hair. She seemed calmer, within and without, but she did not pull away from him, nor he from her. Perhaps he should, but what if she panicked again?

  Strange, new territory, this.

  Eventually, through their bond, he felt her panic fading. Safe in his arms, sleep now threatened to overtake her. It was for the best. He could ill afford any silly entanglements, and she desperately needed sleep. Gently, he eased her down onto the pillows, her eyes having already closed. Drawing the blankets about her shoulders, he tucked them deftly, briskly around her body. With that, he stood to leave, the bed groaning in complaint. Disturbed by the sound, she stirred, her eyelids fluttering half-open.

  “Ilgard?”

  She squinted sleepily, his name a drowsy question.

  “My lady?”

  “He won’t come back, will he?”

  If the creature did return, it would not be to Treygon.

  “No, my lady,” he said. “He’ll not return.”

  “You promise?”

  He promised.

  “Ilgard?”

  “Yes, Lady Hannah?”

  “Ilgard…I’m so sorry,” she whispered. “I’d never want anything bad to happen to Aerisia. Or to you. If I’m your Artan…” She paused, and he waited. Never had she admitted that she even might be the fulfillment of prophecy. “If I am,” she concluded, “I need to do better, don’t I?”

  He disliked saying, “Aye, you do,” even though it was true. Evading the question, he simply said, “You are the Artan, and now you must sleep. Good night, Lady Hannah.”

  She wasn’t finished yet.

  “Ilgard, help me. Help me learn,” she pleaded sleepily. “I don’t…I don’t know what to say or do or think anymore. Everyone wants me to become the Artan, but I have no idea who she is! It’s like my life isn’t my own, and I don’t even know why. I have to know, though. What happened today—it didn’t happen without a reason, did it? There must be a reason why. A reason why me.”

  Although he doubted she would remember any of this come morning, maybe it boded well that she was reconsidering her stubborn stance against learning, against being the Artan.

  “There is certainly a reason,” he reassured her. “One day you will know you are the Artan. You will know your magic, your strength, and your purpose in Aerisia.”

  “Will I? It seems impossible.”

  “Nothing is impossible,” he soothed. “Goodnight, my lady.”

  Once more, he tried to leave. Once more, she prevented him.

  “Ilgard, please don’t leave me alone.”

  “I will be outside your door.”

  “I know.” Her voice was trailing off into sleep’s soft whispers. “But I want you in here. I don’t want to be alone.”

  He hesitated, thinking through the implications of that request before deciding. Of course it was safe, but was it wise? Well, he was sworn to her. He was her bondmate. How could he leave if she truly needed him?

  “Very well,” he answered quietly.

  Reassured by his pledge, she smiled a tired smile. Before the next moment passed she’d surrendered, losing herself in oblivion’s embrace.

  Morning came slowly, the sun rising over the high, jagged peaks of the Unpassed Mountains. The first hints of its subtle glow roused him. He opened his eyes to the young woman curled up on his lap, her face buried in the hollow of his neck, one of her arms draped across his chest. Her breath fanned out over his skin, while her hair was spread like a mantle around his shoulder. Its fragrance, like the softness of her body, entranced him as nothing ever had.

  Earlier, keeping his promise not to leave her, he had sunk down to sit on the floor beside her bed, ready should she need him.

  The third time she awoke screaming, inconsolable, he had gotten up, wrapped her in a blanket, and carried her to the chair in front of the fireplace. There, settled firmly on his lap, sheltered in his strength, she had fallen asleep and had yet to awaken. Lulled by the hypnotic sighs of her deep, even breaths, sleep had finally claimed him as well for the first time in several days and nights.

  Finding his arms had grown numb during the past hours, he shifted them, seeking a position of greater comfort. She shifted too, moaning softly, but did not awaken. Placing one hand against her cheek, the Simathe pressed her face into his shoulder, using his fingers to shield her eyes from the light as the sun climbed higher and higher in the morning sky.

  Absently, he stroked a thumb across her cheek, savoring the moment, knowing it would never come again. He felt no particular need to let it slide by too soon. After all, it had not been an easy night. He would wait awhile, he told himself, let her obtain the slumber she needed. While she did, he would think on her requests for help—help in discovering herself as the Artan. Whatever they had done wrong thus far would have to be corrected. Somehow, someway, she must realize who she was.

  Being Joined to her, it wa
s only logical he should assist her. In many ways he knew her better than anyone else, but in others, not at all. The path they walked was uneven, unknown, slippery, and dangerous for them both. Nevertheless, he would do what he could for her. After all, protecting his homeland was his duty fully as much as hers. So, by working together, they would somehow defeat the gathering Dark Powers and defend Aerisia.

  Somehow, someway…

  Together.

  So far, my journey has been pain and confusion, loss and longing. True, there have been lighter moments, but right now they seem eclipsed by shadows. I’ve started new friendships and tasted attraction—crazy and bewildering as that attraction may seem. I’ve lost one life but now have the chance to build a new one in a new world. The question is, do I want to? Am I capable of it?

  There are so many questions I need answers to. I need to know why me? I need to know if this is me: a me I’ve never known, a me I’ve never met, but a me I can become.

  This Artan person, this woman of magic…I can’t picture myself as her. However, all of my experiences in Aerisia up to now have taught me one important lesson: I can’t go on this way. I can’t keep relying on everybody else to protect me, defend me, shelter me, take care of me. I’m an adult. I’m a grown woman. It’s time to start acting like one. It’s time to stand on my own two feet. Whether I can be what everybody expects, I can’t say. But I know this—I’m going to try.

  Magic still seems like an elusive thing, something intangible and out of reach. Maybe it is. But if it isn’t, I’m going to know and I’m going know for sure, because I know it’s time to reach for magic. Right now, reaching for magic sounds as high as reaching for the stars, but perhaps there’s a chance, a real chance, that someday I’ll touch those stars.

  At any rate, I know my journey has only just begun. There’s far more to come, and it’s time for me to discover where the path I’m on will lead.

  Continue the journey with Book 2, Aerisia: Gateway to the Underworld.