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

by Sarah Ashwood

  A gasp of horror rose from the crowd, and people immediately fell to busy whisperings. I had to raise my volume in order to grab their attention and make myself heard.

  “They knew I was the Artan, and they wanted to ensure my downfall before I had the chance to come into my own. In spite of their best efforts, each attack failed…until now.”

  I paused, letting my eyes seek out faces in the crowd. I met and briefly held gazes, making certain each and every person assembled knew what I was saying and where I was going before resuming.

  “In this, their latest scheme, the Dark Powers again sent their servants to destroy me. To destroy not just me this time, but you and your city and all hope for peace and unity among us. These servants walked among us not as themselves, but hidden behind masks. They deceived us with kind words and fine actions, while in their hearts there was nothing but death. They gained our trust by pretending to walk in the light. Once this trust was given, they took advantage of it—of you—to spread lies and wicked rumors, raising questions and doubts about me.

  “Was I your Artan? Was it possible I was actually a part of The Evil, using my position to take advantage of Aerisians in general? Maybe I was simply trying to overshadow the real Artan’s advent.

  “I don’t know what all was said or what ‘proofs’ they showed you. But I do know this: that even many of those who believed in me were afraid to stand up and be accounted for when it came right down to it.”

  A third time I explored faces in the crowd. Some looked ashamed, while others hung their heads. Still others looked angry, as if they wished to argue but didn’t dare.

  “You see where suspicion, mistrust, and fear have brought us,” I went on gently. “The Evil may not have murdered me, but their mission has been more than accomplished. Look at us—we’re fighting, slaughtering each other! If that’s not the work of The Evil, what is?”

  Now even many of those who’d been against me were starting to look mortified. I pressed on.

  “Because of our failures, not only have we ourselves served the Dark Powers, but good men and women have died who didn’t deserve to. Because of our failures, the strangers among us were allowed to murder Ranetron leaders of this city as well as your High Elder.

  “I want you to know it was my friend Lady Elisia, the Spinner, who had the good sense to be wary of the Adragon. She was the one who eventually unearthed our enemies’ secret. She was the one who warned me that these ‘Adragon’ could be nothing less than the Doinum—ancient, devoted, powerful servants of the Dark Powers.”

  Another round of outraged gasps from many in the ever-growing crowd. Apparently, not all knowledge of the Doinum had vanished from common Aerisian memory.

  At this juncture Lord Garett intervened, stepping up beside me and taking over.

  “Ranetron of Aerisia, you have fought both for and against us this day. Having heard our lady’s words, will you now unite behind your High-Chief and against our shared foe? Our enemy is not this woman beside me. Our enemy is any and all who oppose her, for, in opposing her, they also oppose the Powers we serve.”

  I don’t think there was even one of the several hundred Ranetron dispersed about the city square who didn’t raise his sword at Garett’s question, shouting loud allegiance to his lord as well as to me.

  “It is well,” their High-Chief said, nodding approvingly. Then, “Lencon, Rayde!” He singled out two soldiers at the edge of the crowd. “Fetch one of these slain Doinum. Bring it hither for all to see.

  “You there, clear a place for the corpse.”

  As his men and the onlookers scurried to do his bidding, I glanced at him, bewildered. “What’s going on? What are you doing?”

  He didn’t look up from observing his commands being carried out below but replied grimly, “In death, my lady, as in sunlight, their true natures are revealed. Elisia informed me of this before the fighting began.”

  I didn’t have to puzzle long over his cryptic statement, for his warriors returned, placing a broken corpse on the ground. Jerking off its slashed, shapeless robe, they stepped away. My cry of astonishment mingled with the crowd’s at what unfolded next. As soon as the soft, dawn sun touched its pale skin, the body began contracting, twisting, shrinking, hardening. Fingers morphed into claws, ears to horns, and teeth to fangs as the remains of this previously normal-looking Aerisian altered into something entirely different. Something gray, scowling, and stone-hard.

  “It’s a gargoyle,” I breathed, awed.

  “My lady?” asked Cole from behind.

  I couldn’t tear my eyes from the thing. “It’s a gargoyle. I’ve seen them on Earth. Well, not real ones. Stone ones. People used to be big on making statues of them, but I never knew why, and I never knew they actually existed! I wonder…”

  My words trailed off into silence as I realized I was looking upon yet one more Aerisian fact that had morphed into Earth legend. Shaking my head, I wondered if I’d ever stop finding links between our parallel worlds.

  Eventually, I had to force my focus back to the job at hand. Taking control of the situation, my voice overpowering the shock waves reverberating through the crowd, I said loudly, “You see? What further proof do we need that everything I’ve said is true? Are you going to believe me, or will you continue serving the Dark Powers by listening to their lies?”

  People glanced questioningly at one another, as if debating whether or not I wanted a verbal response.

  “Well?” I pressed, forcing the issue. “Will you? Which side are you going to choose? You can’t have it both ways.”

  At last, a lone Ranetron, young, bloody, and weary, raised his spear. “I know not where others may stand, but my choice is made. This woman speaks truth. She is our Artan, and I will follow her as such. What say you?”

  “I say, aye!”

  This, much to my surprise, came from Norband, who had stepped up beside the young Ranetron. The crowd shifted around him, as few seemed willing to stand close to a high-ranking Simathe. Nevertheless, in mere seconds his cry had been taken up by men and women alike, and shouted repeatedly until it echoed throughout the city square and beyond.

  “And will you,” I cried, “stand together, uniting yourselves with each other and with us to fight The Evil and drive them from our homes and cities when that time comes?”

  The shouts of “Aye!” and “Yes!” resounded so strongly that it seemed even the great Singing Bridge vibrated beneath my feet.

  My heart was overflowing as I stared at these people.

  I can’t believe this. I did it! It’s really happening. I’ve truly become the Artan.

  Nevertheless, if I thought I was going to get off that easily, I was mistaken. The glow of success had barely warmed my soul when an impossibly deep and loud voice slashed through the crowd’s joy to issue a daring challenge.

  “What proofs have you? What proofs do you offer us that you truly are what you claim to be?”

  I was so startled I was momentarily frozen in place. Turning my head slowly, I peered over my shoulder. An astonished intake of breath, followed by a broken exclamation, fled my lips. Whirling, I pressed up hard against the railing, gripping it with all the strength I possessed. Blinking rapidly, I tried to dispel the vision before me, but my eyes opened and reopened only to reveal they were still standing there just as I’d first glimpsed them, alive and all too real.

  Giants!

  Challenge

  That was the only word to describe the phenomenon standing beneath our bridge. I may have been up too high to accurately estimate their height, yet even from there it was easy to see they’d more than dwarf a normal-sized man.

  The newcomers were fair-haired, like other Aerisian folk, and dressed alike in dark-colored breeches, leather boots laced to the knee, and long-sleeved white shirts with full, billowy sleeves. Over these they wore vests of somber blacks, browns, grays, and blues. Their leader, however, the one fronting the group who’d called out the challenge, wore his shirt open at the neck, d
isplaying the bronze circlet clasped around his throat to full advantage. Although the object reminded me of the slave collars once used on Earth, this man was obviously no slave. Authority and confidence radiated from the tips of his dusty boots to the huge broadsword poking over his shoulder to the top of his golden head.

  I shook myself like a person awakening from a trance. Cautiously, I moved to the opposite railing, where I peered down at the stranger.

  “Who are you?”

  “Why, I am Prince Kurban Wy’ Damondule, son of High King Ergat, also of House Damondule. I am prince of the Tearkin, and I am at your service, my lady.”

  He offered a grand, sweeping bow, which I thought wasn’t untouched by mockery.

  I frowned. “Do you come in peace?”

  He seemed to find the question very funny. Shaking his head, he laughed, the three tiny golden hoops in one ear swaying and the layered lengths of his burnt-blond hair brushing against his vest’s stiff, embroidered collar. He was a good-looking guy, even for a giant, but I couldn’t say I cared for his attitude.

  “And if we do not,” he demanded audaciously, “what would you do, Lady?”

  Choosing to ignore the subtle insult, I reiterated firmly, “Do you come in peace?”

  The cheeky smile slipped as he folded his arms mulishly across his chest. “That would depend, my lady. We have come a long journey to see if the rumors reaching even the land of the giants are true. On mission to seek out the lady Artan have we come. You are this lady?”

  I nodded, brushing a lock of hair behind my ear. “Yes, I am.”

  “So you say. But what proofs have you to verify your words? We heard some of your speech to these city folk.” His broad hand gesture encompassed the throng of Aerisians gawking openly at the intimidating strangers on the opposite side of the river. “Very pretty,” the prince went on. “But what sign do you offer that we may accept you as the deliverer of our land?”

  I stared him dead in the face. “Didn’t you see the explosion I created a few minutes ago? How do you think I got the attention of all these people bent on fighting and killing each other?”

  “Nay, Lady, we did not see. We heard something—mayhap an eruption of some sort—but we saw nothing more than the unguarded gate and unprotected streets by which we entered the city.”

  “You really should consider having guards stationed,” he added, “to prevent strangers from simply walking in.”

  I bristled at that. “There were guards there, you—” I bit my tongue to refrain from adding “idiot.”

  Taking a deep breath to calm myself, I started over. “There were guards there, but the fighting in the city and at the palace had us all in confusion.”

  “Then ’tis truly a good thing for you and your people that it was only my men and me entering your city unseen and unchallenged, was it not?”

  “I suppose that’s true,” I agreed warily.

  He was smiling again. “Then we are agreed on this point, at least.

  “Come, Lady, let us waste no more time. Show us you are the true Artan, and my men and I are prepared to pledge you our swords. Howbeit, if you cannot offer what we seek…”

  His sentence trailed off into dangerous, foreboding silence.

  “Yes?” I prompted, even though I figured I could guess the rest.

  His hand shifted, going to the hilt of his mammoth sword in an understated gesture of warning. “Then we slay you as a deceiver and a servant of the Dark Powers.”

  “You would pass through my men and me to do so, Tearkin.”

  Ilgard! He shouldered up to stand beside me at the rail, his own hand resting lightly on the hilt of his sheathed sword. Below and behind us, the inquisitive crowd was deathly silent as they watched this drama unfolding. I shifted a step closer to the tall warrior, watching the giant’s face to see what his reaction might be to knowing I had Simathe protection.

  To my astonishment, he laughed! A huge grin splitting his face, he called out, “Ho, Ilgard, High-Chief of the Simathe. Well met, my lord! How fare you and your warriors this day?”

  “What?” I gaped openly at the two of them. “What’s going on here? You guys know each other?”

  The Simathe was not smiling. “We of Treygon have lent the Tearkin our strength on more than one occasion.”

  I stared in disbelief at this man I’d thought I was finally getting to know, trying to process this information into my already overwhelmed brain. “Wait a minute: you knew there were giants in Aerisia? And you didn’t tell me?”

  He offered no apology. “The Tearkin are like the Simathe; we leave our lands only when we must. There was no need for you to know what others did not.”

  “What? Hold on,” I sputtered angrily. “You mean to tell me the Simathe are the only ones who knew these giants existed?”

  When he made no reply, I rounded on Garett. “Did you know?”

  “No, my lady. I did not.”

  Back to the other High-Chief. “Ilgard, is it true then? Only the Simathe knew? How is that?”

  “A common bond, my lady,” broke in the Tearkin prince, who up till now had held his peace. “A common bond shared through the Scraggen. We were both created, as one might say, by the witch-women.”

  I couldn’t believe my ears. “So you’re saying you guys are practically cousins or something?”

  “Oh, very nearly,” the prince chuckled. “Ho, my friend, how do you like that?” he said to Ilgard. “You and I, cousins! I shall be certain to save you a seat at our next family gathering.”

  “Hardly necessary,” the Simathe High-Chief declined coldly. “Get on with your business, Tearkin.”

  “Ah, you wound me,” sighed the Prince, laying a hand to his chest. “Very well, then.” Turning back to me, he said, “You have heard our request, my lady. Will you show us proofs that you are what you say?”

  “Not until I know how you knew about me,” I demanded. “If your lands are so isolated nobody over here knew about you, how come you all knew about me?”

  “Rumors spread and word travels,” shrugged the giant. “As do the Simathe, who recently assisted us in handling a problem we faced.”

  “What kind of problem?”

  “What else but the Warkin? Their lands border ours, which, according to them, affords them the right to help themselves to our livestock and goods.”

  “The Warkin? Who’re they?”

  “They are the Dragonkind, people of the dragon,” murmured Lord Garett, still by my side. “I have heard of them. They are a tribal people, whose clans lay claim to lands throughout the Western Territories. So rarely do they come into contact with any of us that I had half-wondered if they were a myth.”

  “Speaking of myths…” I turned a glare on Ilgard. In one morning I’d seen gargoyles and giants brought to life, and now I was calmly being told that dragons existed as well?

  “You’d think somebody could’ve let me in on some of this and saved me lots of shock and confusion. Obviously I was mistaken in thinking you Simathe had no close ties with anyone. I guess it’s true that no man is an island. Just wish you’d bothered to clue me in instead of having it take me completely by surprise.”

  The man looked right back at me with those pupilless black eyes, refusing to speak or take the bait. We were at a stalemate, until the Tearkin prince interrupted.

  “I say, all of this is quite amusing, yet we still await an answer to my original question.”

  “Kurban, I have Joined with her. That should be answer enough,” Ilgard stated quietly.

  The giant’s jaw dropped. “You jest!”

  “Yeah, because the Simathe are so big on practical jokes.” I rolled my eyes.

  Ignoring that, he demanded of Ilgard, “Is it true, then? You believe her to be the Artan?”

  “Wait a minute, he didn’t tell you he’d Joined with me? So, what did he say?”

  “When we made inquiry about the rumors of the Artan’s arrival, he merely said that she had indeed been brought and that we ou
ght to come see her for ourselves. So here we are. We only require a bit of proof before we pledge our swords to your cause.”

  “If I have Joined with her, that should be sufficient proof for even your stubborn self.”

  Seeing the recalcitrance that crossed the giant’s face, one proving Ilgard’s assessment of him was likely true, I sighed deeply.

  Now that the immediate danger seemed passed, it occurred to me how tired I was. The sun had barely risen in the sky, and a bone-deep weariness had already settled in. All I wanted was to go back to the palace, tumble into bed, and sleep for a dozen years. Unfortunately, I knew that unless I did something to solve the situation on my hands, it could quickly escalate into a drawn-out battle of wills between Simathe and Tearkin. Who would win that I didn’t know, and I didn’t plan on finding out either.

  The people gathered below still waited patiently, both inside the city square and surrounding it. They, too, needed all of this to be finished so they could bury their dead, mourn, rebuild, and go on with their lives. However, they’d heard the prince’s challenge, and after the literal war last night over the question of me as the Artan, I couldn’t help feeling a little more proof for them wouldn’t be a bad thing.

  Finally, I broke the silence stretching thin between glaring Tearkin and composed Simathe by stating simply, “He’s right.”

  Both men slowly, reluctantly, turned from each other to me. “He’s right,” I repeated. “The prince is right. He does deserve proof that I’m the Artan. Everyone does.”

  Neither of them said a word. Ignoring their silence and the unnerving atmosphere of hundreds of pairs of eyes trained on me, I puzzled over how to back up what I’d so bravely proclaimed.

  Walk in the light.

  Peace… Unity… Light…