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

by Sarah Ashwood

  Wonder if this is anything like what A-listers go through back home, dealing with the paparazzi all the time. If so, I can feel some sympathy for them now.

  I suppose the peace of the gardens and the privacy of darkness had put me in a reflective mood. Out loud, I mused, “Life has gotten so crazy lately. When I first came to Aerisia, I thought you all were insane for believing I was the Artan. Now, against all odds, I’ve accepted that’s who I am and what I’m supposed to do. However, now that I’ve been pretty much officially instated as the Artan, it sort of feels like life has slowed down, and I don’t know what I’m supposed to be doing. I thought my destiny as the Artan was to be battling the Dark Powers.”

  “You’ve not had your fill of war lately?”

  “I didn’t mean that the way it sounded,” I laughed, chagrined. “I wouldn’t mind a break. It’s just people keep talking about the Dark Powers and how they’re harming Aerisia. It isn’t like I haven’t seen any of it—obviously, I have. They’ve made several attempts on my life. On the other hand, practically everything I’ve seen so far has centered on me. Even the Doinum probably wouldn’t have crawled out of the woodwork except they were trying to get to me.

  “So I guess what I’m trying to say is: how are the Dark Powers affecting the rest of the land? Are they really intent on hurting other people or simply destroying me? Maybe all of this would be solved if I simply…went home,” I shrugged. “Maybe that would be the best way to protect Aerisia, so nobody around me can get hurt.”

  “You cannot mean that.”

  His tone was so serious, almost reproachful, that it stopped me in my tracks.

  “Why can’t I mean that? What if I’m right?”

  “You are not.”

  “Well.” That took me aback. “And how would you know?”

  “Because you have been shielded from the truth,” he declared bluntly.

  “I’ve been—no, you’re not serious.”

  I could tell by his face that he was. My ire rose.

  “You mean to say that you, and whoever else was involved, have been keeping bad news from me? Like—like I’m too much of a child to handle it?”

  “Not a child, no. We simply agreed not to overburden you.”

  I couldn’t believe this, and yet I could. Even back at Treygon, hadn’t I noticed the discussions, the meetings I wasn’t let in on? Hadn’t I felt there was something in the air, stirring behind the scenes?

  I squared my shoulders, trying to keep calm, but my voice was icy, tight. “Okay, so when, exactly, were you planning on telling me all this?”

  “The news was not mine to tell. In truth, Council made the majority of these decisions.”

  “You’re a member of Council,” I pointed out.

  “And rarely attend.”

  “I’m not buying that you couldn’t have let me in on this if you’d wanted to. We’ve been Joined for months. You knew better than anyone how I was progressing, but you still didn’t think I was ready to know?”

  “I knew, yes, but what would you have had me do? Interrupt your studies with the fairy to tell you of Warkin raids on Tearkin lands—not mere thieving raids, but raids of murder, blood, and fire? Mayhap I should have informed you of the sea pirates preying on merchant vessels or the Dark One having been seen in the Thorn Wilderness. Should I have distracted you from learning what you had to learn by such tales? By stories of Village Teron being overwhelmed by smugglers or the assassination of Deveron’s Portex?

  “The hands of the Dark Powers are ever at work, and we knew not how much time you had to master your gifts. Your learning was paramount, so I handled some of these matters and others the rest, leaving you to study, concentrate, and grow. It was deemed better that you wait until you could face the Dark Powers themselves, than worry yourself over single attacks about which you could do little.”

  That was an uncharacteristically long speech coming from a Simathe. I couldn’t deny he’d made his point, but I was still angry and unwilling to give in. All of the information he’d imparted was a bit overwhelming, so I latched onto the one thing I did know something about, protesting, “Kurban didn’t mention anything about the Warkin killing anyone. He only—”

  “Because I forbade it,” Ilgard interrupted shortly. “Knowing he would sail to Laytrii to see you for himself. I bid him hold the truth close.”

  Frustrated, I gritted my teeth. “This is absurd. How can this world trust me to be their Artan when they don’t trust me to know what I’m fighting? How are you ever going to trust me as the Artan when you’ve been one of the main ones keeping secrets from me?”

  Before he could object again that Council had made most of the decisions, I held up a hand, ticking off items on my fingers.

  “First, there was the existence of the Tearkin. You never bothered to tell me that. Then Braisley. Was she there in the Unpassed Mountains the same time I was at Treygon? Never mind, I’m sure she was. What next? Oh yeah—that these raids and who knows what else were going on all over Aerisia. Apparently, I wasn’t mature enough to know that either. Boy, I’d just love to know what else you’ve been hiding.”

  Some of his eerie Simathe calm slipped a bit at my acerbity. “I am the Simathe High-Chief; I tell what I choose to whom I please.”

  “Oh, so what are you then, the self-styled power behind the throne? That’s certainly what you’re acting like.”

  “As you are acting like the child you profess you are not,” he rejoined. “If you wish to be treated as the Artan, you must act like the Artan.”

  “Maybe I would, except there is no other Artan and nobody to show me how to act! Sorry, hon, but in case you’ve forgotten, this is it. I am the Artan. It’s me. Period. End of story.”

  He gave me a dark look. “And there is no other Simathe High-Chief save me and no other man to whom you are Joined. I know this land and its darkness better than you. You should trust my judgment rather than take offense.”

  I hated how calm he could remain, especially when on some level I knew I was being ridiculous. That only irritated me more.

  “I’m so sorry, then. I’m so sorry I don’t measure up to what you thought the Artan would be. I’m sorry I take offense and act irrationally. I know you wish the Artan was someone better, braver, and smarter than me, but this is it.”

  “That is only what you think you know,” he shook his head. “I would have you no different than you are.”

  The firm, quiet assertion brought me to a standstill, dissipating my head of steam.

  “No way. You wouldn’t?”

  “I would not.”

  “But—but after all the arguments we’ve had, after all the things I’ve said to you—heck, after the way I just talked to you!—you still don’t wish I was different?”

  “I do not.”

  This was almost too baffling to wrap my head around. “But we just had a huge fight! I bet nobody argues with you like that.”

  A smile flitted across his mouth. “True.” The smile vanished. Soberly, he said, “You do not fear me, Hannah. How many can claim that?”

  “Yeah, well, once I got to know you, I figured out you’re not so scary,” I admitted gruffly, scuffing the gravel with the toe of my slippers. “To be perfectly honest, I guess there’s not a whole lot I would change about you either.”

  “Truly?”

  I looked up from the gravel path and into his face—that face I’d once found so hard and so alien. What was it about him that had changed? Or was it me and my perspectives that had altered?

  “Truly. I can’t imagine you any different, Ilgard, High-Chief of the Simathe.”

  Where the boldness came from to admit that, I didn’t know. Tonight had been a crazy emotional upheaval of almost tears to mischievous humor to reflection to anger and now to frank, personal honesty. The very air was charged with the changes between us, the moon reflecting in the unfathomable depths of his black, black eyes. Under that gaze, my heart pounded with a funny mixture of anticipation and fear. />
  I didn’t know what to do, to stand my ground or flee, and because he could be so difficult to read, I couldn’t predict what was going through his mind. There were several things I might’ve guessed he’d do. What I did not expect was for him to look down and reach for my hand, enfolding it in his. Shivers rolled down my spine at his touch, which felt exactly as I’d imagined it. His hand did swallow mine, engulfing it with gentle strength. I could feel the ridges of callouses on his fingers and palms—callouses I wanted to trail, trace, and explore.

  He lifted our clasped hands into the air between us, saying nothing, his eyes fastened on our intertwined fingers while mine were fastened on his face. Beneath the silvery white of my gown, my chest was rising and falling rapidly as I waited for him to speak. At long last, his eyes came up to claim mine.

  “Hannah,” he said quietly, and for the first time, my name on his tongue was a caress.

  “Ilgard—”

  I don’t know what I meant to say and would never figure it out. Brisk footfalls on the path heralded an intruder, someone who, by the sound of his or her footsteps, was advancing toward us with a purpose in mind.

  “My lord?”

  It was Norband. At the sound of his voice, our hands fell apart. His hurried footsteps made us retreat. By the time he approached, we stood a safe distance apart, looking as if nothing more had occurred out here in the moonlight than a casual conversation between peers. Only we knew different. That interrupted moment was one that would haunt us—or me, at least—for a long time to come.

  Traitor?

  “Your pardon, my lady,” Norband stated first with a quick bow, “but I must trade words with the High-Chief. With your permission…”

  I nodded in mute agreement and stood watching as the men moved off into the gloomy darkness of a tree with drooping, fluttering, overhanging branches. The wind whispered through those wraithlike branches, ruffling my skirts and curls, yet not a whisper of conversation could I overhear.

  A gray, dark cloud trailing wraithlike fingers scudded ominously across the moon. Even the music inside had changed to a slow, haunting melody. I shivered at the unexpected sense of dread that stole into my soul, snatching away the euphoria of a minute ago. The way the two Simathe lords stood there not speaking, and yet knowing they were, only added to the eeriness of the scene.

  From the open doorways beyond, I heard a woman’s giggle: cheerful and bright, though muffled by distance. There was light there, people and laughter. I cast a longing glance toward the Grand Chamber, debating how much longer this meeting would take, and if it would be rude to slip back inside and wait there.

  I decided to give it a few more minutes and, with nothing else to do, found myself studying Ilgard’s shadowy form in the darkness, remembering how awed and frightened of him I’d been at the beginning. If anyone had suggested then that I might come to develop feelings for him, even over an extended period of time, I would have called them every kind of fool. The idea that it was actually happening was still foreign enough to boggle my mind, even if my heart was seeing things more and more clearly.

  As if merely thinking about him was an audible request for his attention, he turned to me now, casting a glance over his shoulder, checking on me before resuming his absolutely silent conversation with his Chief Captain. Feeling the warmth of his care, I remained where I was, trying to ignore that growing sense of unease and the slight chill carried on the breath of a nighttime breeze. Despite keeping myself warm by mentally replaying that handclasp and the way he’d said my name, I was about ready to call it quits by the time the two men broke off their talk. Norband returned to the palace with purposeful strides, while Ilgard came to me.

  “Walk with me,” he said, grasping my elbow and leading me down a secluded garden path, overshadowed by night-blooming trees. I felt that sense of unease growing until my stomach set to churning. What in the world was going on?

  We halted at length in a small clearing, where the white gravel path beneath our feet gave way to a circular stone mosaic depicting the Living Tree. An elaborately carved stone bench surrounded by carefully groomed rosebushes sat to one side of this mosaic: a picturesque alcove obviously intended as a haven for lovers. Ilgard, however, did not invite me to sit, so I remained standing as he pulled something from an inner pocket of his coat, uncurling his long fingers for me to see it.

  “Uh…I don’t get it,” I said, glancing up from the object he held to study his face. It was grim, hard, in the moonlight.

  “A riverwatcher pulled it not an hour past from the Coiyne. It was given to my Chief Captain who passed it to me.”

  “But what is it? I noticed you wearing one tonight.”

  Indeed, what Ilgard was showing me was another gold medallion. It was a little smaller than his, perhaps, but similar in every other respect.

  “Look closely. You see the design?”

  “I noticed that earlier, too. It’s the tower at Treygon where we were Joined, right?”

  “It is.”

  “So…what does it mean, that it was found in the Coiyne? And what is it, exactly?”

  “It is a Talor, the tower’s name and also the medallion’s. It is given to each Simathe who chooses the warrior’s life.”

  “I see. So what’s it doing here?”

  Despite the shadows, I could see his black eyes narrow and his stone-set face harden. There was no trace left of the man with whom I’d verbally sparred, the man who’d professed he preferred me as I was, the man who had held my hand. No, this was Ilgard as I knew him best: implacable, hard, warlike. A Simathe, and their chosen leader.

  “Nothing good, be assured of that.”

  I wasn’t satisfied with his reply. “I realize it means nothing good, but judging from your reaction, I’d say you know more. Tell me,” I implored, laying a hand lightly on his sleeve. “Please don’t keep this back from me. I think I have the right to know.”

  He said nothing for a while and I waited patiently, staring up into his face, wishing he would allow me to share his thoughts like another Simathe, wishing I had the ability to do so, wishing I could at least guess what he was thinking.

  “I suspect,” he answered finally, pronouncing each word with deliberate slowness, “it means there is a traitor among the Simathe.”

  My eyes drifted down to the medallion in his hand. His fingers curled about it, tightening—as if by squeezing the object he could squeeze the life, or the treachery, from its owner.

  “How do you know?” I heard myself whisper.

  “Because this Talor was not lost in the river. It was placed there.”

  “How do you know that? Maybe it was genuinely lost.”

  “A Simathe does not lose his possessions.”

  “Maybe it was stolen.”

  He snorted. “Nor are they stolen from him.”

  “Fine!” Exasperated, I threw my hands in the air. “So it wasn’t stolen from him and he didn’t lose it. I still don’t get how you know this means one of you is a traitor.”

  “Because it was placed in the river in an attempt to conceal it.”

  “Conceal it? Why? To hide the evidence?”

  “Precisely.”

  “But the evidence of what?”

  “An exchange of tokens, the sealing of a vow. A promise given, the Talor with it.”

  “So what you’re basically saying is whoever owns this Talor gave it to someone else to seal a bargain they’d made, and then the other person was maybe close to being found out and tossed it in the river. That’s a pretty elaborate theory based off a medallion found in the Coiyne. I mean, why would anyone do that? Everyone knows the riverwatchers—”

  “Sometimes fail.”

  I shivered, rubbing my forearms. “You could be right, but what if you’re not? Ilgard, this is a big deal! You can’t accuse one of your men of being a Benedict Arnold on such flimsy circumstantial evidence. This is all pretty slim, you have to admit. It would never hold up in a court of law.”

  “The
re is no court of law. I am the law. I know whereof I speak.”

  “Okay, I don’t doubt that,” I soothed, rubbing a palm over my brow. “But I still think you could be mistaken. You might be making something big out of nothing at all.” I dropped my hand onto its opposite arm. “After all, accidents do happen.”

  Several long, heavy seconds crept by, and when at last he spoke he didn’t even directly address my concerns.

  “My lady once told me she trusted me.”

  I frowned, not comprehending the switch in topics. “I don’t see what that has to do with this.”

  “Either you trust my judgment in this matter, or you do not.”

  I winced. “You’re not making this easy on me. After all, we had a pretty heated discussion not very long ago over the whole matter of trust and you concealing things from me. Now you want me to put my blind faith in you? Over something like this?”

  He waited, saying nothing, until I affirmed carefully, “I do trust you. I just want you to…use caution, that’s all.”

  His eyes, unblinking, held mine in their black grip. At last he nodded, slowly.

  “As you say.”

  “So you’re not going to take this and run with it? You’ll be careful?”

  I could tell that annoyed him. “I know my own men, lady.”

  “Apparently not very well!” I shot back, frustrated with the whole stupid mess. “You’re so willing to take this and make such an issue out of it, but you won’t even give one of your own men the benefit of the doubt when it comes to being a traitor!”