“And I--I killed him.” Riordan scanned his face, taking in the lines of worry
at the sides of his mouth. “That's when it got really strange. The body
disappeared into the Sword. Then I heard him laughing...in my mind,” she
finished.
His frown deepened.
“What do you think it means?”
“What?”
“The vision,” she said, impatiently.
“I place no stock in such things,” he snapped, much too quickly.
“You believed the prophecy.”
“Your father believed the prophecy.”
“And you did not?”
“I did not say that. Your father was my King. It was enough that I do as he
bid me.”
“Would you do the same for me?”
His expression shifted to wariness. “I am your servant, Your Majesty.” An odd
sadness weighed his tone.
“Then hear me out, Nhaille.”
Nhaille nodded but offered no comment, only continued to stare at her with
that pained look of concern.
“He had a tall plume on his helmet. And a clasp of amber on his cloak.”
He reined Stormback sharply to a halt.
She jumped at the sudden movement. “What?” she asked looking back at him.
“Don't tell me you know such a person.”
“I do know of such a person,” Nhaille said slowly.
“Who is he?”
This time it was Nhaille's turn to look uncomfortable. “Doan-Rau...of
Hael.”
“Doan-Rau.” Riordan tried to summon another glimpse of phantom from her
vision. It was suddenly desperately important to have an image of the
warrior-prince who had annihilated her family, leveled her city. Know your
enemy, Nhaille was fond of saying.
“Somehow I never thought he'd be young.”
She'd pictured him middle-aged. Older than Nhaille. It made it all the worse
to think someone of her own generation could coldheartedly create such
destruction, that someone her age could have such callous disregard for
life.
“Nhaille?”
Within the shadows cast by his visor, his green eyes flickered upward to lock
with hers.
“Is it written anywhere...that he who bears the Sword of Zal-Azaar feels the
loss of the souls it kills? That those souls don't migrate to Al-Gomar, but live
in the mind of the Sword's bearer?”
He didn't want to tell her. She could tell by the way his eyes searched the
surrounding dunes, hunting for a way out of the conversation.
“Riordan,” he said finally. “There are a good many things I have yet to tell
you.”
#
Doan-Rau stared into the glittering sea of diamonds.
As if my life wasn't complicated enough. Now this new development.
Somewhere in the basin was the phantom that haunted him. So the old man
Gamaliel was not the lunatic he'd imagined, after all. Questions tormented him.
What if his father got word of the Princess? What if word reached the already
disillusioned army? What if Kholer got word before he could head off this
disaster in the making?
No matter, he decided. The Kanarekii Princess was merely another of the
annoyances to be tolerated and promptly dispatched. With the Princess gone,
nothing would stand in the way of his quest. His divine calling.
The coast will be mine. My reward for the injustices I've endured.
But in order to achieve the prize he so desired, he must first rid himself of
a legend.
I should be on my way to Kholer. Perhaps Larz was right. He ought to have
brought a troop of Haelian soldiers with him. But that had its own dangers. He
couldn't afford to let the secret out. This is but a short detour. The fires of
Kanarek were merely a few days cold. How far could they possibly get? His mind
nagged at him that if he'd had half the brain for strategy he bragged about,
he'd have thought of hunting down the Kanarekii Princess first.
Who besides Gamaliel would have wasted the time fighting a myth? He couldn't
have known, he assured himself. According to legend, not even her own siblings
had laid eyes upon the Princess.
He sorely missed Larz's tracking skills. Not to mention the Captain's dry
humor and quiet acceptance. Acceptance his own father refused to bestow on his
oldest son.
No matter. When the coast is mine his acceptance will no longer matter. Not
even my father will be able to deny my brilliance. Taking a brief sip from his
canteen, Rau smiled to himself. They will sing my praises to Golar and
beyond.
Maybe not my praises, he added with a sharp laugh out loud. But it will be my
likeness upon their coins, and my standard flown above their cities.
Rau fingered the spike of amber in the pouch at his belt, cousin to the
broach at the neck of his cloak. And I shall place the Kanarekii Princess beside
her father at the head of my Army of the Dead.
After all, it's only right that families stay together.
Rau laughed maniacally at his own humor.
#
Nhaille hadn't uttered a word in hours. Not since she'd recklessly blurted
out that foolishness about the vision. Instead he listened to the wind, his dark
brows drawn, his mouth a grim line. She concentrated, but whatever caught
Nhaille's attention eluded her.
Surely they couldn't be after us so soon.
He straightened in the saddle, and she watched as his expression darkened
from somber to murderous.
“What is it?”
Nhaille signaled urgently for silence. Riordan scanned the low dunes around
them. Nothing.
Desperately searching for a source of refuge, he motioned toward a low
outcrop of rock. Dismounting, she led Strayhorn toward it. The ever-present wind
drilled sand at the shallow opening, obliterating their footprints. They huddled
in the indentation, urging the horses in behind them. The shadows were
impenetrably dark after the sun's blinding light. Nhaille's eyes flickered in
the darkness, warning her to silence. He clamped a hand over Stormback's nose.
She mirrored his actions with Strayhorn. Crammed in beside the horses, they
waited a veritable eternity.
Then, among the dunes, nearly tracing their own footsteps, there was
movement. Riordan sunk deeper into the recess, pressing herself against
Strayhorn's flank. Her heart hammered in her ears. She was certain even her
shallow breath could be heard above the wind.
A rider passed in front of them a short distance away.
For one disorienting second, Riordan saw her premonition superimposed upon
the scene before her. She blinked gritty eyes. No, this was reality. From her
hiding place, she peered out at him into the glaring light of the sun.
Wind tore at his black cloak with angry fingers. It billowed out behind him
like great wings. The crimson plume on his helmet waved back and forth like a
flag. But it was the flash of amber at his throat that froze the gasp upon her
lips.
Riordan's eyes slid sideways, locking with Nhaille's. He held her gaze,
willing her to silence.
Several paces away, the rider paused, listening intently. Her heart froze in
her chest. Indrawn breath burned to be released.
Indigo eyes flickered over the landscape, sweeping by the shadows that
concealed them.
Don't see us, Riordan flung the sum of her will at him.
A wall of sand blew momentarily between them. The rider wiped a hand across
his face, then spurred his horse onward.
Riordan slowly released the breath she'd been holding. Shutting her eyes in a
fervent prayer, she sagged weakly against Nhaille.
The rider plodded steadily away from them, his black form a dark smudge in
the brilliance. Together they watched him go. The horses whinnied nervously,
unhappy at being forced into such tight quarters.
“Doan-Rau,” Riordan whispered. A statement, not a question. Without a doubt,
she knew him from her vision.
Nhaille nodded. “He hopes to be heir to Hael and all its conquered
territories.”
“He is not heir to Kanarek,” she said with venom. “And if I have my way,
he'll not live to be heir to anyone's territory.”
Nhaille offered no answer to that, merely stared at the rider's rapidly
disappearing tracks. “Let him put some distance between us.”
Riordan watched as he disappeared out of hearing range and flung the sum of
her wrath after him. “Nhaille?”
He looked down at her in the shadows.
“Do you think I'm losing my mind?”
She watched the hard line of his mouth soften into tenderness. “Of course
not. Why would you think such a thing?”
“It would be a likely conclusion for someone who admits to seeing things that
aren't there.”
Placing his hands on either side of her head, he gazed down into her eyes.
“It stands to reason that if you carry Shraal blood in your veins, you might
also have the capacity for Shraal magic.”
“You think what I saw was real? That it may come to pass?”
“I am not an expert in Shraal sorceries, but we must prepare ourselves for
the possibility.”
“I don't care at all for that answer.”
“Many difficult events lie in your future, Riordan. I wish I could will it
otherwise.”
“So do I.” She stared after the black cloaked rider. “Speaking of unpleasant
choices, what are we going to do about Doan-Rau?”
Nhaille followed her line of sight. “We have no choice but to kill him.”
“I don't see anything.” Riordan squinted into the sun. Shuffling over on her
belly atop the low ridge on which they were lying, she followed the line of
Nhaille's arm.
Placing a hand on the back of her neck, Nhaille gently turned her head in the
right direction. “There.”
Riordan blinked sand from her eyes. On the horizon a black speck moved
against the glittering sea of sand.
“Okay, I see him. Now what?”
Nhaille's eyes flickered up to meet hers. “Now we rid ourselves of this
troublesome obstacle.”
“What are we going to do, sneak up behind him and lop off his head?”
“That's one way to tackle the problem.”
“Nhaille!”
He grinned wolfishly and held up his hand for silence. “I said it was one
way, not the best course of action. What I had in mind was more along the lines
of a night ambush.”
Then he won't have to see my face, Riordan thought with a sudden pang of
cowardice.
Since she'd stood among Kanarek's still-smoldering ashes, she'd dreamed of
nothing but vengeance. Two days ago Nhaille would have had to use physical
restraint to stop her from leaping from the ledge and dashing after him.
But the eerie vision in the magenta vault unnerved her. Not only the mindless
killing, but the horrible feeling that followed, as if an abyss had opened in
her soul.
Her father's dead and clouded eyes swam before her mind's eyes. You'll have
no rest until I put a stop to these monstrosities. The task was hers, whether
she wanted it or not, she thought, staring at the moving speck silhouetted
against the featureless sky.
“It doesn't make sense.” Nhaille rubbed the skin on the back of his neck that
was chafed by sweat, sand, and the constant rubbing of his helmet. “Why, if he
had an entire army on the march -- toward Kholer would be my guess, why would he
break with his company and set out alone?”
“You're assuming Doan-Rau is sane,” Riordan offered. “A dangerous
presumption, don't you think?”
Nhaille shrugged. “He could very well be a raving lunatic, though his father
was a rational man.”
“Razing Kanarek and turning its dead into an army of ghouls was not a
rational action.”
“No--”
“And what does it matter anyway. We'll ambush him, as you say, and be done
with the problem.”
But Nhaille was still wandering the path of his own thoughts. “Is he so
convinced of his victory to leave his company in the hands of his
commander?”
A thought occurred to her. “Unless he's looking for the Sword as well.”
Nhaille pursed his lips in contemplation. “Unless he's looking for
you...”
“Me?”
“It does stand to reason that if word of a man and woman fleeing Kanarek
reached Doan-Rau, he might draw the obvious conclusion.”
“I am not an obvious conclusion! I'm supposed to be a myth.”
“I do believe the myth is rapidly becoming reality.” He offered her a pointed
stare.
He didn't need to voice the accusation. Riordan felt a sharp stab of guilt.
Doan-Rau might never have known of her existence if she hadn't insisted on going
to Kanarek. Her selfish indulgence jeopardized Kanarek's salvation.
“I should never have made you take me there.” It tore at her heart to admit
her first order might have already caused their downfall.
Nhaille held her gaze a moment longer. “The deed is done, Riordan. Forget
it.”
#
The nighttime desert was a play of blue shadow against bone-white light. Arid
wind tossed the sand like waves on the surface of a vast sea. Its frigid fingers
combed through Riordan's hair and cast a dusting of sand into her eyes.
I hope I never see another grain of sand in my life!
Riordan blinked away the offending irritation. The moon shimmered through her
tears, but she couldn't risk the movement to wipe at them.
Hells of a bad night for it. The moon's nearly bright as day.
But they couldn't wait until the moon was on the wane. The consequences of
letting Rau escape were obvious.
Nhaille's right. He must be completely mad to venture out here on his own.
Her hand tightened on her sword. Or does he think us so incompetent? Riordan's
eyes fastened on her target. Well, Prince Doan-Rau, we shall see.
Like a shadow, Riordan glided through the darkness, inching toward her
target. Know your enemy, Nhaille told her. She was close enough now to study
him.
He -- she found she didn't want to name him now, not even in her mind, not
when she was about to kill him -- was sitting with his back to them. Reaching
into the fire's light, he prodded the glowing coals. That small fire can't be
taking away much of the chill, Riordan thought, creeping closer. Then again,
maybe Doan-Rau's heart turned to ice long ago.
Pale skin gleamed in the moonlight as his hands worked at cleaning his armor.
If it wasn't for the fire, she would have thought him part of the scenery, black
upon white.
The odor of charred meat wafted back toward her on the breeze. Lizard? Mouse?
Whatever he'd eaten for dinner smelled a lot worse than their journey rations.
His resourcefulness impressed her. Mad or not, Rau would be a challenge. I'll
know your measure soon enough, my Prince.
Behind her Nhaille's barely audible footsteps moved into position. She didn't
need to turn to know where he was. She knew his technique almost as well as her
own.
A horse whinnied nearby. Rau's, she realized with relief. Their own were
tethered some distance away, safely beyond range.
Rau glanced up, disinterested, then went back to his work. Riordan released
the breath that caught in her throat.
Nhaille's shadow bled into deeper darkness. Careful to keep his shadow from
the circle of light around Rau's fire, he took refuge behind an outcrop of rock
and motioned her forward.
Riordan eased her sword from its scabbard, certain Rau would hear the
whisper-soft scrape of metal. But the object of her hatred was busy staring up
at the diamond points of the stars.
Such a wistful gesture. In profile he looked youthful, thoughtful. Like any
other young man contemplating his future. She hadn't expected him to be
handsome. That was a disconcerting surprise.
Riordan yanked her thoughts back to the task at hand and slid into
position.
The desert paused. Rodents ceased their scurrying between shadows. Moon,
stars froze in position.
Nhaille sprang.
Riordan leapt after him. The desert rushed by her in a blur of silver and
indigo.
A rush of wind must have alerted him. Rau whirled to meet Nhaille's
onslaught. Too late.
The impact knocked Rau into the glowing coals of the fire. Sand and ashes
scattered in a whirlwind of searing dust.
Riordan flung herself into the tornado of flailing limbs, desperately trying
to separate Rau from Nhaille. They rolled beyond the ring of scattered coals.
Rau snatched his sword from the pile of gear. It came free of its sheath with
a screech of metal.
Swords clashed together in a flash of moonlight. Nhaille parried Rau's thrust
easily. His return caught Rau in the shoulder. The Prince swore.
Gripping Riordan by the arm, Nhaille thrust her away. “Stay out of it.”
“Hells I will. He's mine.” She took a step toward them.
“I mean it.” Nhaille's look was brutal.
Wait a minute, I give the orders here. Riordan raised her sword.
But Rau noted even that small lapse in Nhaille's concentration. With a
lightning twist of his wrist, he caught Nhaille's sword, knocking it from his
hand. It landed with a whoosh, point down in the sand.
“Nhaille!” The warning was squeezed from her throat before she could call it
back.
Nhaille leapt after his sword and stopped short. The tip of Rau's sword
rested against his breast. The Prince grinned. Moonlight gleamed on his even
white teeth.
Sensing her terror, he grinned wider, a twisted expression that warped his
handsome face. Sapphire eyes blazed at her from under a shock of long, brown
hair. Her eyes flickered to full lips she guessed could be as sensuous as they
were now cruel. At that moment she wanted nothing more than to issue her most
brutal kick to his strong jaw.
Riordan froze in position, afraid to startle Rau and send the point of his
sword through Nhaille's heart.
“Ah, the good Captain Kayr-Alden-Nhaille it is,” Rau said. “Great protector
of the kingdom of Kanarek.”
“Let him go,” Riordan ordered.
Rau's eyes darted sideways. She watched them widen slightly as he caught a
glimpse of the strands of silver hair that escaped from her helmet. Whatever he
thought of her, he swiftly deduced she wasn't a threat.
“Not likely.” The tip of his sword cut into the leather of Nhaille's vest.
Apparently her orders were obeyed only by her own subjects. Had she really
thought to intimidate him?
Nhaille's expression warned her to silence. His eyes shifted to the sword at
his breast, imploring her to sacrifice him to get a clear shot at Rau.
Not what Rau was expecting. That would surely throw him off guard, long
enough for her to slice off his head and be done with the whole affair. Who
knew? Perhaps even the Haelian army would be lost without its commander.
If that were the case, Rau never would have set off on his own.
Nhaille glared at her, ordering her with a glance to action. She stared
stubbornly back at him and watched his expression darken.
Nhaille's strategy made a cold-hearted kind of sense, but no way in the Seven
Hells could Riordan stand by and watch Rau run his sword through Nhaille's
heart. Images of his arms around her, the many ways he'd been both friend and
mentor raced through her mind. With Nhaille gone she wouldn't have the strength
to bear the Sword. She couldn't let Rau kill him, not even to save Kanarek.
The Prince was examining Nhaille much the way he might an exotic beetle. “The
Great Captain Nhaille, after all. Well, I see the rumors of your death have
been, shall we say, exaggerated.”
Nhaille answered him with silence.
“And if I have the Great Captain at the point of my sword, then your
companion must be...”
Riordan pulled off her helmet, letting her silver hair tumble about her
shoulders in the moonlight. It was a chance, albeit a slim one, that confronting
a myth might distract Rau long enough to give Nhaille a chance.
“Riordan-Khun-Caryn,” she said, giving a passable version of a court bow.
Fear flickered across Rau's face, quickly smothered. But Riordan heard his gasp
of surprise beneath the wind's whisper. “And you are?”
He stared at her in amazement, his sword slipping for a moment from its
target. “Doan-Rau.”
Riordan took that opportunity to kick him under the chin.
Rau's sword flew wide, landing in a clatter amongst his discarded armor. He
scrambled to reach it. Nhaille leapt after him, but Riordan was closer.
A risk he wouldn't have wanted her to take. She'd listen to his
recriminations forever. But she had to stop Rau from reaching that sword.
Riordan flung herself at Rau.
She smashed into him, knocking him flat on his stomach. Putting the blade of
her sword against the back of his neck, she leaned on him with the sum of her
weight. “One move, Prince Rau,” her words dripped venom on the last syllable of
his name, “and you're dead. And believe me, I will enjoy killing you.”
“Leave the Princeling to me,” Nhaille said, getting to his feet. “It would be
my pleasure, Your Majesty.”
“Oh no,” Riordan said, raising her sword for the killing blow. “The duty is
mine.”
In a sweeping arc, she brought the sword down toward the back of his
neck.
Searing heat shot through her face. She scraped at the flaming ember Rau
flung against her eye. The world blurred. Then she was on the ground.
And Rau held her sword against her throat.
Somewhere in the darkness, Nhaille swore vehemently.
Damn it, Nhaille. Why didn't you teach me the dirty tricks? Though he'd
taught her every possible technique with the sword, he neglected burning coals
and knives in the back.
Rau seized a handful of her hair and hauled her unceremoniously to her feet.
“Stay where you are, Captain. Or the mythical heir to Kanarek will rapidly
become no more than a brief memory.”
Her eyelid was beginning to blister and swell. Even moonlight made it tear.
It would be days before she knew whether she'd lost her sight as well. If she
lived that long.
“Kill him, Nhaille. It's the only way.”
She couldn't see out of her left eye. With the cold blade of her sword
against her throat, she couldn't turn her head.
“Do it. I'm quite willing to die, as long as I take this Haelian swine with
me.”
“Riordan, be quiet.” She heard the strain in his voice, though she couldn't
see him. She knew how it felt, since she'd been in Nhaille's position only
moments ago. Nhaille could no more let her die than she could him. If I live
through this, Nhaille will kill me himself. The thought was comforting
somehow.
“Yes, Your Majesty.” Rau brought his face down close to hers. Moonlight
glinted off the whites of his eyes, illuminating the madness within them. His
breath was warm against the side of her face. “Shut up.”
Nhaille took a step toward Rau. She felt the shifting of sand against her
legs, even if she couldn't see him.
A warm trickle of blood leaked down the side of her neck, pooling against her
collar.
“No further,” Rau warned.
“Killing her will gain you nothing.” Nhaille's voice, further away.
“Oh, have no fear, Captain. I don't intend to kill her. Not just yet,
anyway.”
Her father's mutilated face hovered in Riordan's memory and she pictured the
multitude of horrors Rau could inflict upon her before her death. Please
Nhaille, don't let him do any of those things to me.
“Not until our good Queen Riordan leads me to the Sword of Zal-Azaar.” Rau
considered his own strategy. “Perhaps not even then. I may decide I like her.”
Rau pressed against her suggestively. Her body recoiled, but he held her fast.
And she realized there were more humiliating ways to torture a woman than
slitting her throat.