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

by Sarah Ashwood

  “Oh, the leap was not so difficult as you might think. I soon discovered that, even though my fellow Aerisians did not welcome me, they did fear me. Easy enough to obtain what you want, when others fear you. Once I tasted a measure of that power, I desired more. I knew the only way to obtain it, to secure it in secrecy without my brothers knowing, was to seek aid from the Dark Powers. I simply did not know how, until…”

  “Until what? What did you do, Kan? What did you do?”

  My feet moved, carrying me a step closer. Against my will, this man drew me in, fascinated me. I’d never seen a Simathe like him, for the simple reason there were none. Truthfully, I’d never seen anyone like him, and it tugged strangely at something inside of me.

  “What did I do?” He smiled fiercely, showing his teeth. “I sought help from a witch-woman, one of those who created my kind. She advised me to return to Treygon, resume my life, and shield my desires. The Dark Powers had a singular purpose for me, and in time it would be revealed. But I must go back and wait in silence.

  “So I did. I returned to Treygon. I fulfilled my duties. I chose a warrior’s life, and I accepted the Talor. I wore it, and I waited. Waited until the day I met the Cistweigh, Jonse. Soon as I met him, I knew the Dark Powers had revealed their will.”

  “But how did you find him? Where? How did you two run across each other?”

  “Ironically, it was as I was following orders, playing the dutiful warrior, obeying my lord’s commands. Perhaps you’re unaware, Lady, but the source of the Coiyne River lies in the heart of the Unpassed Mountains. For centuries, the Simathe have guarded it, as well as the Scraggens who maintain the source itself.”

  “Scraggens?” My mind whirled. “I don’t understand.”

  “Not all Scraggens are evil, my lady,” he said dryly. “Some are content to use their powers on Aerisia’s behalf. Such a one has oft employed her skills to keep the river source clean, pure, and flowing freely so Laytrii’s city suffers no lack of water.”

  “I see. So the cottage in the woods, where I came upon Jonase…”

  “Aye, you begin to see it now. While a witch-woman guards the Coiyne, Treygon guards her. I went there once to look in on her, and instead I found the Cistweigh. He’d slain her, of course. I could have killed him; any other Simathe would have. Yet, when we met, I recognized my destiny.

  “He promised me all that I craved, and I protected him from my brethren. I let him use the Scraggen’s cottage, and he would give me any domain, any lands, I wished after the Artan was destroyed and the Dark Powers triumphant. I let him live, and he would give me as many of my countrymen to kill as I pleased.”

  He pressed his face into the space between two bars, and we were now close enough that I could feel his hot breath.

  “I gave him you,” he whispered, “and I was promised what I coveted above all—the Cortain, Tey. From the moment I saw her, I desired her. There were other women, I could have possessed: I was never content to be as my brethren and pass the years in solitude. But there was no woman like her—a warrior, a queen, and lovely as the sunset.” His grip on the iron bars tightened until his knuckles turned white. “To have possessed her would have been to possess the sun itself: fiery, hot, scorching, and yet beautiful beyond belief.”

  “Regardless of my longing,” he continued bitterly, “she would have none of me. I doubt she ever saw me. I was Simathe and beneath her notice. Nevertheless, I was prepared to do anything to make her mine. And I did.”

  “You set me up! You knew Jonase was waiting for me,” I accused angrily.

  “Ah, but you made it so simple!” he laughed. “From your earliest arrival in Treygon, I’d watched for an opportunity to hand you to Jonase. As it happened, you handed yourself to him.”

  “Foolish girl,” he mocked. “You did not know you were the price of it all. You were the Artan, and the Cistweigh was drawn by your light. He found you utterly irresistible. Killing you was not enough for him. He would break the prophecy by other means.”

  “I’m well aware what means he intended,” I snapped. “I was there, remember? He almost succeeded.”

  “A pity the High-Chief foiled that scheme,” the warrior sighed. “Nevertheless, you must admit its cunning.”

  His blasé attitude towards Jonase’s attempted rape turned me cold.

  “You’re despicable,” I said harshly. “How dare you? How could you?”

  “How dare I?” he taunted. “My only regret is that we failed to succeed.”

  “So why didn’t you kill me then?” I wanted to know. “After Jonase’s plot bombed? Why didn’t you murder me later on, when you got the chance? Why wait until now?”

  “No chances were afforded me,” he ground out angrily. “Never once. Always, the High-Chief was too close or, if not he, then another warrior. You did not see them, but I did. I had to bide my time… and my task became even more difficult after you learned to defend yourself.”

  “And what about the Talor the riverwatchers found? How did it get there?”

  “Jonase had it,” he shrugged. “I gave it to the Cistweigh as a pledge, marked with my own blood: my seal to serve him and his masters all of my days.”

  “I guessed that, but how did it wind up in the Coiyne?”

  His gaze drifted lazily over my body, in a way that made me feel exposed, naked. Which was ridiculous, since I was fully clothed.

  “How would I know this? Possibly Jonase passed it to a Doinum leader.”

  “Why? So they’d know they had a Simathe serving them?”

  “Undoubtedly.”

  “And during the fighting in the city they threw it in the river, hoping it’d be washed away?”

  “Perhaps.”

  “Well, it makes sense, anyway,” I murmured, more to myself than him.

  “I am gratified to have been of service,” he replied, with a mocking bow.

  I shot him a glare. “Y’know, when all this started, I felt sort of sorry for you. I could understand not wanting to live like the other Simathe. I could understand wanting to change your station in life. However, there had to have been more honorable ways of going about it. What you’ve done is nothing less than give yourself to evil. You deserve everything that you get.”

  “As do you, my queen,” he drawled. “As do you.”

  I wasn’t quite sure what he meant by that, but, sensing the interview was over and I’d gleaned all I could, I turned to go.

  “Wait.”

  Halting, I glanced back at the imprisoned man.

  “What?”

  He smiled, his alien eyes glinting bitterly in the dungeon’s shadowy light. Everything about him was as far removed from a normal Simathe as could be. Then again, I realized perhaps Kan had never been a normal Simathe.

  “Will you not thank me for speaking with you?”

  I frowned. What is he up to?

  However, seeing no real harm, in the request, I said, “Fine. Thank you, Kan, for speaking with me.”

  “Oh, no, that is not enough. I want more.”

  Too late, I become conscious that I was standing within arm’s reach. Too late because, before I could react, his arms snaked out lightning fast. He grabbed me, pulling me close, slamming my body hard enough against the metal bars that it hurt. I sucked in a cry of pain at the jolt.

  “Let me go!”

  He laughed dangerously. “Nay, my lady. Not until I’ve been more properly rewarded. I desired the Cortain, but you prevented that, didn’t you? I think you owe me recompense. I think you must give me what she cannot.”

  My eyes narrowed. “If you think I’m going to give you anything like that, you are crazy.”

  Another low laugh. I squirmed feverishly, but his grip on my upper arms was unbreakable.

  “Only a kiss, my lady. Only a kiss.”

  “Forget it,” I snapped, struggling harder. “Let me go this instant! All I have to do is call your High-Chief.”

  “Do it then. Yet consider this, Artan… what can he do?” One ha
nd cupped the back of my head, drawing me near. “Kill me?”

  He winked. And then his mouth covered mine, and he was kissing me. Hard at first, hungrily, roughly. I strained against him but couldn’t break free. I should have called on my magic to stop him, but the situation had spun out of control so rapidly that by the time I thought of it he’d already pulled back, softening the kiss, softening his hold. I jerked backwards with all my might, and he let me go. Instantly, I retreated a safe distance away, well out of arm’s reach, where I stood staring at him, recovering my wits.

  For several long seconds we gazed at one another, until I finally said, “I’m sorry for you, Kan. I’m sorry you lacked the honor of the men you hate. I’m sorry you followed this path, and I’m sorry it all came to this. However, you did make the decision. Now you’ll have to face the consequences of your actions.”

  “A dire warning indeed,” he scoffed, turning and retreating back to his cot where he collapsed, sprawling across it with his arms over his head. “I tremble to think what manner of punishment my former brethren will choose for me.”

  “I think you should,” I said soberly, “because I can’t imagine it’s going to be anything pretty.”

  He rolled his face towards me. “Any further counsel, my lady? If not, you may leave.”

  I opened my mouth to reply then shut it again. What was the use? Nothing I could say or do would change anything here. I started to go, but before exiting the dungeon turned for a final look.

  “Kan?” Once more he glanced my way. “Don’t get me wrong: I know you deserve what you’re going to get. But that doesn’t mean I’ll enjoy seeing it happen to you. After all, I thought you were my friend.”

  Our eyes met and held for a long moment. I kept expecting him to make some sardonic comeback, but maybe he’d run out of them. Instead, he simply turned away, holding his peace and refusing to break the silence between us. I left without another word.

  Farewells

  “My lady goes nowhere I do not.”

  At the firm, quiet statement, several Council members looked annoyed. Two bent close to trade whispers. One rolled her eyes. Another shook his head. The current dispute had been seething for some time now in the vast Council chamber of Laytrii’s palace. It was Ilgard who’d spoken, and although several of his fellow Council members looked like they wanted to protest, none did.

  Rolling out my shoulders, I slumped against the back of my chair, ready for this interminable meeting to come to an end.

  A little while ago, the Simathe High-Chief had informed Council that neither his Chief Captain nor he could leave tomorrow, after all. Instead, they must transport their prisoner, Kan, back to Treygon. He wouldn’t allow Kan to remain here until we returned, and he absolutely refused to let me out of his sight—meaning I couldn’t leave tomorrow as planned, either.

  Never mind Council’s arguments that the people needed to see their Artan, upon whom they were placing their hopes and trust, ride out with them. Never mind that our forces must depart tomorrow, as planned. The warrior-lord refused to capitulate, negotiate, budge, or even compromise. So far, the argument had persisted with no end in sight. If not for the fact that he was the Simathe High-Chief, I pretty sure Council members might’ve already resorted to shouting. Repressed outbursts aside, Ilgard had just had his last word, and it was not what they wanted to hear.

  Steeling my spine, I forced myself upright in the chair. Apparently, it was up to me to come up with a reasonable solution. Me, who’d been fought over like a hunk of meat between a pack of feral dogs, without being asked even once what I wanted. Running a hand through my unbound hair, I swept it behind my shoulders.

  “Look,” I began in a placating tone, “there is a solution to all this. The High-Chief is not going to let me leave for Shayle tomorrow, but our armies have to go. So that means I have to go with the Simathe to Treygon, right?”

  “And you foresee a solution to this madness?” a stern-looking Council member spoke up, his voice as iron as the grey in his hair.

  “I think so.”

  Glancing across at the Simathe lord, I found him watching me closely, as if he was curious to see how I planned to get everybody to go along with his plans. I wasn’t surprised: should the sun fail to rise tomorrow morning, the man would still refuse to change his mind. I turned back to Council.

  “I have to accompany the Simathe High-Chief and Chief Captain tomorrow; I think we all realize that. And our armies have to leave for Shayle in the morning… I think we all realize that, too. So.” I leaned forward, clasping my hands loosely on the Council table before me. “This is what I propose.

  “I leave for Treygon tomorrow, and you leave for Shayle. However, I doubt our business at Treygon will take very long to complete. Right?” Several pairs of green eyes drifted toward Ilgard, who nodded in wordless affirmation. “Okay, then. We’ll come back to the port at Laytrii as soon as we’re finished and take a tideracer down the Largese until we meet up with our forces. Surely, with some hard riding, we can catch them before they arrive at Shayle.”

  Several people exchanged glances, nods, and murmurs—I thought of assent.

  “So that’s my plan,” I said with a decisive nod. “I think it should satisfy everyone involved. What do you say?”

  Before dawn the following morning, I found myself in the courtyard of Laytrii’s palace, idly slapping the leather reins in my right hand against the palm of my left. My horse stood calmly next to me, unperturbed by the commotion of so many people preparing to ride out. Most of our troops were camped outside the city. Only military officers and leaders remained here at the palace, but that was quite a number. Having already addressed them, I was waiting—alone at the moment—for Ilgard and his Chief Captain to join me.

  Not very far away, Kan sat his own steed, heavily bound with iron chains and guarded closely by two of his fellow Simathe. I winced, looking at him. The chains and guards were an inescapable reminder of his treachery and my own brush with death. My personal feelings of anger and betrayal were mixed at best: I could scarcely tell where one ended and the other began.

  His head drooping, Kan was staring intently at his bound wrists, which were, in turn, secured to the pommel of his saddle. However, even as I watched, Lady Tey, in full battle armor, a sheathed sword at her hip, walked into view from the direction of the stables, leading a dapple-grey charger. The Cortain didn’t see what I did: the slow lift of the Simathe’s chin and the long look he leveled upon her. A look filled with naked longing, desire, hunger.

  Sick at my stomach, I turned away. If Kan had remained true to his Simathe heritage and duties, if he had tried to win her, would he have had a chance? Would she have ever noticed him, or been able to overlook all of the characteristics that set him—them—apart? Had it had to come to this?

  I didn’t know. Yes, I’d finally learned to overlook and even accept what I’d once found so alien in the Simathe High-Chief, but our situation had been unique, to say the least. Tey wouldn’t have had the same opportunities as me. Sadly, I well knew the odds of a Simathe warrior winning the Cortain Pronconcil were probably slim to none. Which made me feel sad. Certainly it didn’t excuse Kan or his action; it didn’t exonerate him for the lengths to which he’d gone to obtain his desires. Nevertheless, it did make them slightly more… understandable?

  Shaking my head to drive away this melancholy train of thought, I leaned into my mount’s warm shoulder. All the psychoanalyzing in the world wasn’t going to change anything now. Even if I’d been in the mood to put in a word on Kan’s behalf, I was pretty sure none of his former brothers in arms would be too inclined to listen.

  A startled gasp of fury seized my attention. Turning, I laughed aloud as I saw The Hunter, who’d snatched Rittean from behind, whirl her around, and bend to snatch a kiss. Rittean squirmed violently in protest, and The Hunter released her as soon as their lips parted, laughing out loud at the indignant expression on her round face. She raised a palm to slap him, but he was too quic
k. Still laughing, he ducked away from the blow, beating a hasty retreat toward his own mount.

  “My gratitude for the kiss, Moonkind Rittean,” he threw over his shoulder. “When I return triumphant, I shall expect another.”

  “That will happen only in your dreams, Hunter!” my cousin snapped back.

  Smirking, I remembered my astonishment when I’d realized The Hunter was Moonkind. Once the shockwaves of that horrible, initial meeting in Laytrii’s palace had died down and I’d gotten my first good look at him since leaving the Underworld, I saw the tint clinging to his eyes and hair (no doubt produced by all those long years in the Underworld) was gone, scoured away by our fall through Merelda’s mirror. His hair was the same pure white as Rittean and her father’s and his eyes the same distinct tropical-water shade. Furthermore, he was extremely handsome, some power of the Underworld having kept the marks of centuries spent below from both face and body.

  He was of her race, all right, and it hadn’t taken me long to make Rittean uncomfortably aware of that fact. Not surprisingly, my cousin had protested, saying he was, “Not like other Moonkind. He is a wilder. Moonkind cannot be warriors—it is against the Peace of the Moon! Nor do they wear their hair so long. Long, like a Simathe, defying all culture and decorum. Who can know what he has been doing in the Underworld all these years? He is too old,” and various other excuses. They might’ve all been true, but, unfortunately for her, The Hunter seemed to have gotten wind of her indignant responses. Since then, he’d taken great delight in tormenting her his own self.

  I couldn’t say I felt much pity for my cousin as far as The Hunter went. After all, I still remembered her little hints and nudges towards Ilgard back when he and I had been at odds. She was actually receiving a lot worse than she’d inflicted. However, despite him being a warrior and her a dedicated pacifist, I didn’t think she disliked The Hunter or his attention as much as she let on. My suspicions were confirmed when I saw her turn to watch him ride through the open palace gates.