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

by Sarah Ashwood

  Meanwhile, our armies were also assembling, and some troops had already begun the march towards Shayle. I was scheduled to depart within the next few days, along with my Simathe warriors and Lord Garett, who would lead the bulk of the Ranetron. The Hunter had also chosen to go, as had Risean and several of the more powerful Moonkind magic wielders. Although their pacifist views forbade them using their magic in battle, their healing skills would be an indispensable asset for our cause.

  As head of the fairies and having an entire order of fairies and their realms to oversee, Braisley had returned to Cleyton and would not be journeying to Shayle. However, Aureeyah would be accompanying us and had promised assistance from her fairy sisters, as needed. So far as I knew, fairies had no history of violence and, like the Moonkind, weren’t likely to use their magic directly in the fight. How exactly they planned to contribute, I didn’t know, but I wasn’t about to turn down any offers of help.

  I hadn’t been surprised that the Moonkind, although my distant relatives, were refraining from the harsher side of war. The same went for the fairies and their skills. I had, however, been gravely disappointed when the Tearkin prince, Kurban, had abruptly left a couple of days ago, taking his fellow Tearkin with him. There’d been no explanations as to why he’d felt compelled to leave with war looming, and all of my protests and guilt trips hadn’t done a thing to restrain him.

  “I know they aren’t pacifists,” I’d grumbled to Ilgard, more than a little miffed at this turn of events.

  “Trust Kurban to do what is best for his people and himself” was all the man had to say, which I found far from comforting.

  Trust was a hard thing to come by these days, with Aerisia’s leaders falling right and left and the threat of an unknown traitor in our midst.

  Fortunately, taking the Tearkin’s place, an impressive host of Lady Tey’s fellow Cortain had arrived yesterday in the city, armed to the teeth and ready to fight. All Cortain who could be spared from other posts were now either with us in Laytrii or preparing to meet us at Shayle. Lady Tey, their Council representative, would be leading them into battle, and she seemed to be handling this major responsibility with calmness and precision.

  With all of these matters pressing on me, I couldn’t help brooding over the battle I’d soon be wading into. Going to war had been a reality I’d figured I would have to face eventually, but eventually had become now, and I wasn’t sure I was prepared. Even though nobody had ever said it outright, the prophecy’s wording, which I pored over constantly for clues as to how I would combat the Dark Powers, seemed to suggest I might be required to forfeit my life in order to obtain victory. Mentally, I told myself I was prepared for this outcome, but I was only human, and privately I feared death. I dreaded leaving for war.

  Obviously, the Simathe High-Chief knew a great deal of what I was suffering. Although our public relationship had barely altered, during our few private moments the man was kinder and gentler with me than ever before. The most innocent of touches were caresses to me, and when we had a chance to share a breathless kiss or two I found myself toppling deeper and deeper in love. There was no time or opportunity for dates, long talks, or simply getting to know one other, as a relationship on Earth might’ve unfolded. There was only the continual pressure of a looming war, a potential assassin who might strike at any moment, and the protection of and reliance on a man who knew me inside and out. I loved him, desperately, but knew my love might never be openly returned. This was another burden weighing on my soul, but what to do about it, I didn’t know. I refused to pressure him and told myself there would be plenty of time to sort out our future once the war was over.

  If I survived, that is.

  A day or two before the main body of our forces was scheduled to depart, I, feeling somewhat depressed and completely overwhelmed, slipped away from the palace. I wasn’t really supposed to be leaving, but everybody except me was busy and of course I had a Simathe accompanying me, so I supposed it was fairly safe.

  I went into the city of Laytrii to walk its streets, encourage my people, and observe their reactions to what was occurring. By now, I was enough of a fixture around the city that my mere presence no longer drew the crowds it once had. However, there were plenty of people who flocked to speak to me, despite the presence of Kan, who wasn’t leaving my side. Most of the folks I spoke to were putting on a brave front, especially the women. They presented cheerful faces, calmly hung ribbon and bunting from balconies and windows in an effort to support their husbands, brothers, fathers, sons, and lovers, and spoke not a single resentful word in my hearing. I couldn’t help being impressed and hoped some of their courage would rub off on me.

  After a few hours of mingling with the populace and sharing a meal with several city leaders in one of the city’s nicer inns, I finally decided it was time to return to the palace. Kan had stayed close as we toured the city, his hand glued to his sword hilt, barely giving me room to breathe until we’d left its walls. Once we were on the road stretching the few miles from city to palace, we drifted a few paces apart.

  Finally feeling at peace, I let the scarf I wore slip from my head to my shoulders as I lifted my face to the clear sky, drinking in the fresh air. The wind teased little wisps of hair about my cheeks. I tucked them behind my ear, only to re-tuck them a moment later. No other pedestrians were in sight, and I wondered idly if Ilgard had temporarily relaxed his plan of a double guard. Of course, the second lookout was typically unseen, so he may or may not have been present.

  In order to ferret out which Simathe might be the traitor, I’d taken to having all of them at Laytrii take turns as my escort. A double guard of Ilgard or Norband would then shadow the two of us, discreetly ensuring my protection. When I’d asked Ilgard how this would work, since Simathe possessed that unique gift of sensing their brother’s presence, he’d assured me there were blocking methods they could use that would maintain secrecy.

  Besides Ilgard himself, the Simathe Chief Captain was the only warrior permitted to attend me without a second nearby. I can’t lie: this made me nervous. I knew Norband was Ilgard’s second-in-command and his most trusted warrior as well as friend. Even so, and notwithstanding all we’d been through together, I simply couldn’t bring myself to fully trust or like the man. He was so stony he had a way of making his fellow warriors seem practically friendly by comparison. That one flash of humor so long ago, the evening of my first dinner at Treygon, was the absolute only softening I’d ever gotten from him. Words from him were as rare as rain in the desert. Rarer. And regardless of Ilgard’s uncompromising faith in his second, I couldn’t help but wonder…

  Something made me say it; to this day I don’t know what. Maybe it was the lazy feel of the afternoon, or the fact that, after the hectic schedule I’d been keeping lately, I finally felt fairly relaxed. I certainly never meant to say it. There was a lot on my mind, and it slipped out.

  “Kan,” I asked, my face still lifted to the sky, “do you think if there were a traitor among the Simathe you’d be able to tell?”

  He halted, turning to face at me. I also stopped, casting him a questioning look. “What’s wrong?”

  “A traitor among the Simathe, my lady?”

  “Yes...” I tilted my head quizzically. “It was just a thought I had. I don’t know—all these war preparations making me antsy, I suppose.”

  He nodded marginally, and I rushed on in an attempt to cover up. “Now, I’m not saying there is, you understand. I’m guess I’m curious, is all.”

  Nervous, berating myself for such a stupid slip of the tongue, I shut up and started walking at a fast clip. He fell in beside me.

  “Why do you ask me?”

  “Oh, I don’t know.” I fluttered a hand dismissively. “Because you’re the one I was with, I suppose.”

  When he made no reply, I started to shrug and brush the matter off, but he prevented me by saying, “Better to ask the High-Chief your questions, my lady.”

  “I have asked him.”


  “You have?”

  I nearly swore when I realized I’d basically admitted there was more to this than a mere idle thought. He knew, as well as I did, that I wouldn’t have gone to his High-Chief on something as flimsy as that.

  “Never mind, it’s really nothing,” I said, turning to face my bodyguard and forcing a smile. “Just a girl’s silly worries, I guess. Please don’t mention this to anyone. I wouldn’t want them to know their Artan has such senseless fears.”

  “As you wish,” he nodded soberly. “Your words are safe with me.”

  “Thank you,” I breathed, with a truly grateful smile.

  Taking my elbow, Kan started us once more towards the palace. Inside, though, I felt sick at heart and criticized myself furiously. What on earth had come over me? How could I have said something so foolish? What kind of Artan was I that I’d make such an idiotic slip of the tongue? I could only hope Kan would, indeed, keep the incident private and not report our conversation to his High-Chief or Chief Captain. I couldn’t bear the thought of either of them finding out.

  Later that evening, I stood alone upon the balcony outside my room, waiting for Elisia to join me. The Spinner had asked for a private word after dinner. I didn’t know what it was about, but I figured she’d arrive soon. The sun had already set. Only twilight’s lingering glow pushed back the enveloping darkness, but even that would soon surrender to the night. A cool evening breeze whisked the hair off my neck, and I pulled my lace-trimmed wrap a little tighter about my shoulders, seeking its warmth against the wind’s chill fingers.

  Suddenly, a sharp pain slammed against my back, raked my spine, and pierced my belly. Gasping in agony, I looked down past my breasts to see the tip of a sword protruding from my abdomen. Blood leaked from the wound, surging around the weapon’s gleaming metal, molten red against the pale yellow of my gown. As if in a daze, I felt my fingertips drift toward the tip of the blade. Just as they touched, it twisted brutally, coiling my insides around itself. With a scream, I arched my back, bowing against the indescribable agony. Then I fell to my knees.

  Someone knelt before me. A hand caught my chin, supporting my drooping head. With vision that no longer wanted to focus, I glimpsed a pair of hard, obsidian eyes. The smile on the mouth below them was twisted and cruel. My eyesight was fading fast and my breath along with it. I choked, struggling desperately to inhale, feeling my lungs fill with my own blood.

  It’s not supposed to end like this! I screamed silently.

  The fingers jerked my chin hard, pulling my face to within a margin of my attacker’s. “Die well, little queen,” taunted a deep voice. “You were brave. You might have been mighty for us. Alas, that could never be.”

  Whoever it was, his derision invoked a final burst of defiance.

  “No!” I gasped. “I won’t die… like this.”

  “Won’t you?” he taunted, tracing my lips with his thumb. “You’re too spent to use your magic to heal yourself. You can do nothing to prevent this. I have you fully in my power, and I mourn there is no time for anything further, save farewells.”

  Releasing me, he got to his feet. As he stood over me, I heard him say, “Farewell, Lady Hannah, the Artan. May you find no peace on the other side.”

  Abruptly, he swung away. I heard the fading echo of his footsteps as he retreated into the night. My strength spent, I dropped, falling heavily onto my side, striking my head against the balcony’s stone floor. I didn’t feel it, though. I no longer felt anything.

  Deliverance

  “Is she alive?”

  “Does she breathe?”

  “My lady Artan?”

  “Hannah? Hannah?”

  Focusing on the motionless form in front of him, the Simathe High-Chief blocked out the swirling confusion of voices and questions. He’d no time for them, not with his lady lying there on her side, soaking the balcony floor with her life’s blood. Bending over her, he pressed an ear to her chest, listening for a heartbeat. Nothing. Not even his keen Simathe hearing could detect one. Suppressing fear, he flung himself desperately into their bond, searching within her for any signs of life.

  Thankfully, he found them: a flickering spark indicating her soul had not yet left her body, coupled with the faintest echo of a heartbeat. Weak and tenuous as both were, they meant there was still time, if only a moment, for him to act.

  “She lives,” he announced aloud for the benefit of the others.

  The fairy Aureeyah stooped at his side. “What might I do?”

  He did not answer. Finding once more the internal, invisible bond connecting himself and his lady, the Simathe prepared to pour himself into her. Every bit of his life, his health, his immortality—he would gladly have given them all to her but knew that without direction, such as Braisley had offered the last time the Artan had been laid low, there was a very real threat of her life spark being snuffed out. Instead, he held onto the bulk of what was his, offering her only a fraction until he felt life returning to her body. Even as it did, she shuddered, managing to latch onto what strength he gave her, open herself up to her magic, and permit healing to flood her limbs. It was an unconscious reaction: body and instincts taking over where mind was not quite functioning. But the act saved her, saved her life.

  Easing back, the warrior decreased the flow between them lest he weaken himself too much or hinder her self-healing. In another breath, he’d terminated it altogether. She was recovering rapidly and even drifting towards consciousness. Before that could happen, he nodded at his Chief Captain, who knelt beside her one knee. Wrapping both hands around the hilt of the sword, with a single, fierce tug, Norband extracted the blade from her body and laid it aside. She jerked, cried out, and flung herself over from her side to her back. Her eyes flew open. Instinctively, she tried to sit—to push herself upright—but was too weak. Had Ilgard not caught her with an arm behind her shoulders, she would have collapsed back onto the marble.

  Gently he eased her upright, bracing his arm against his leg, letting his knee take her weight. Other than that, he made no sudden moments but simply allowed her to lay against him, panting as her strength returned to her. Through their bond, he felt the moment the horror of what had almost happened crashed against her. He tightened his grip about her shoulders, reassuring her that he was there and she was safe. Her eyes widened and her mouth opened: he thought she’d scream. Instead, her hand flung about frantically until it found his. Squeezing her eyelids tightly shut, she gripped his hand with all her strength, fighting down the panic, refusing to succumb. Not until the emotions had begun to recede did she loosen her death grip on his fingers, but even then she didn’t release him fully.

  Not that he cared. She could cling to him as long as she liked, never mind her friends and peers gathered around. There was a time when she would little have been able to suppress her fears as she had. There was a time when any affront on her person had sent her into a panic, justified though it may have been. However, she was that timid stranger from Earth no longer. She was resilient and strong, as she’d proved not only by surviving this attack on her life but by refusing to fall to pieces in its wake.

  His pride in her mounted, albeit he did not betray it outwardly. Instead, he used his thumb to wipe away a disturbing trickle of blood from the corner of her mouth, frowning at the evidence of her brush with death.

  “He tried to kill me, Ilgard!”

  Finally, she’d gathered her wits enough to speak. Her mismatched eyes were huge, filled with fright as she stared up at him. Her lips trembled when she spoke. “He tried to kill me! He would have, if you hadn’t been here.”

  “I know,” he said simply.

  “Why—why would he do that?”

  “I do not know.”

  Not yet.

  “Did—did you catch him?”

  He nodded an affirmative.

  “Always the hero,” she managed with a shaky smile. “One day, you might get tired of stepping in to rescue me, though.”

  Slowl
y, Ilgard shook his head.

  “Because it’s your duty to keep me around, huh?”

  “I vowed to safeguard you, and I will,” he promised.

  There was much more to it than that. Had they been alone, he might have said so. As it was, he contented himself with the fact that the traitor had been revealed, even if not exactly as he had planned.

  Traitor Revealed

  “Ilgard, he was Simathe,” I finally gathered my wits to say.

  With his typical stoicism, he didn’t bat an eye. “Aye.”

  “You know?”

  “I know.”

  Confused, I cut a glance towards Norband. His face was equally expressionless. Still, he was here, by my side. Had it not been him after all?

  “I don’t understand, who—who was it?” I asked shakily, turning back to Ilgard, fearing to know the answer.

  “Kan,” he said quietly, gravely.

  “What?” My hand flew to my mouth. “Are you sure?”

  This time it was Norband who responded. “He was caught attempting to flee, still wearing your blood.”

  “Oh, no…”

  I felt as if I’d been hit by a freight train. Somehow, the pain of my friend’s betrayal hurt nearly as bad as the pain of his blade through my guts.

  “How can you be sure?” I protested. “I never suspected him! I thought it was—I mean, maybe there’s another explanation. Maybe the blood isn’t mine. Maybe he’d been hunting or something. Maybe…”

  Ilgard was shaking his head slowly. “No mistake, lass. I’m sorry.”

  “No.” The word was a moan, slipping out before I could stop it. “I thought he was my friend.”