Lunatic (25 page)

Then, against his will, he reached up and rubbed her arms. Held her fingers to his chest. Seconds passed.

Good grief, what was he thinking?

Marak broke free of her. "This is lunacy."

He should never have allowed himself the connection between Rona and Darsal. Both were albinos doomed to die. He should not have spared Darsal's life the first time. That was it-that was the reason he could not execute her now. He'd allowed himself to sympathize with the enemy.

She stepped back. "You called me Rona. Before."

"Also lunacy. You should be dead."

"But I'm not." Darsal let her arms drop to her sides.

"Don't ever do that again."

"Don't try to take my head off again."

His jaw clenched. "I'm not going to-" Marak cut himself off and turned away from her. Rona was right.

Overnight he'd become a monster.

"I don't know the way out of this one, Darsal. One or both of us has to die."

"There's a way."

"What way?" He knew without asking. His fist tightened. "I am not diseased."

"Then explain how any of this makes sense."

"You're ill."

"One of us is. But it isn't the albinos trying to eliminate the Horde."

He turned to confront her and froze.

Sucrow's servant stood gawking at them, face a mask of horror and disgust. Darsal turned to look and grew still.

Marak bore down on the servant and grabbed him by the throat. "What do you want this time, fool?"

The apprentice was still gaping. "What did you see?" Marak snarled.

"I-nothing, General." The wretch cowered.

Marak dug the edge of his blade into the man's flesh. "Liar."

The fool gulped. "Sir ..."

"You wouldn't lie to me, would you?" Marak sneered. "I will kill you if you don't answer." He dug in. Blood oozed from the cut.

"Wait, General, wait! Cassak sent me."

Darsal scowled.

Their captive flinched away. "You can't kill me, General."

Marak gave a dark chuckle. Cassak had his own means of getting things done. He wasn't above using one of Sucrow's useless servants if that was the swiftest means available. "I can kill anyone, fool. I killed my own brother. Now tell me the truth, pup."

Hesitation.

"The priest cannot save you from me."

"N-no, sir.

"Now, you weak-willed, half-brained excuse for a piece of meat, what did you see?"

His eyes widened. "I saw ... you and the albino ..."

Beat.

"And in the event you breathe a word to a soul, living or dead, what do you think is going to happen?" Marak cut a little deeper.

"You're going to kill me."

"Very good. Say it again, to make sure we don't have any misunderstanding."

"Under penalty of death will I repeat anything I saw today."

"Good boy." Marak let go. "What's the message?"

The little weasel glanced around, looking for a way out and seeing none. Cassak must have been desperate to tax his general with this fool.

"Sucrow is sending warriors into the desert with the boy and girl to find the amulet and bring it back."

Marak frowned. Imbeciles, all of them. "Fine. But tell him not to provoke Eram or I'll make sure the whole mess comes down on his head. He is not to engage or frustrate them."

The apprentice hesitated.

Marak growled. "Do you understand me?"

"I-yes, General."

"You may go."

The idiot bowed.

"And what did you see today?"

Pause. "Nothing, General."

"Keep it that way." The servant bowed and fled.

Marak grabbed his cloak and pulled it over his shoulders. He let out an exasperated sigh and squeezed his fist.

Darsal stood waiting, head bowed. Jordan's pendant gleamed in the sunlight.

For an awkward minute they just stood there.

He broke off first. "Come on."

"Where are we going now?" Darsal's eyes narrowed. He deserved that.

"To find my captain who had the audacity to send me one of Sucrow's ingrates." Marak frowned. The frustration was starting to mount again. "I don't want that priest starting another war."

"War and slaughter aren't the same thing," Darsal said. Then she spoke again, the bite leaving her voice. "I should know."

"I'm still under orders . . ." He didn't finish that.

Grumbling at himself, Marak went back through the trees toward the lake. It didn't take long to find his captain and friend along the shore, sweeping for them.

Cassak saw them and turned. Surprise took over his face at Darsal. He tried to mute it but was too late.

"I see my beggar found you," Cassak said.

Marak grumbled. "What did you send that idiot for if you knew I was here?"

"He was backup, in case I didn't find you. You scared him pretty good." The captain surveyed his general and the albino slave.

"I really do have to ask why she's alive, Marak."

"She's the reason they're dead," he snapped. "She'll die when she's paid for it."

Cassak was openly taken aback. It took him a minute to recover from Marak's announcement.

"A little cold, but you're the general. You got my message, then."

"Sucrow agreed to send throaters into the desert with those idiots." Curious. Marak didn't see any point. Although, if the priest thought there was some merit to all this nonsense ...

"Right." Cassak kept glancing between Marak and Darsal. What was going through the captain's mind? Did he suspect anything?

"You really should have just come yourself," Marak grumbled.

"It was more fun watching you toy with him. What did you say?"

A chill worked its way down Marak's spine. Cassak was a good man. Loyal to the bone. But Marak had taught him well. He would go to Qurong. Besides, it wouldn't happen again.

At least Cassak hadn't heard.

"Told him if he bothered me again I'd slit his throat." Marak shrugged. "He's one of Sucrow's, Cassak. I wasn't in the mood."

"He was available. Sorry."

Marak tapped his chin, eager to be off the subject. "How many men is Sucrow sending?"

"Twenty, twenty-five. My source is bad at math."

"I don't want the idiots giving Eram the wrong idea. And if this thing is legitimate, I don't want Sucrow getting credit for it."

Cassak beamed. "I'm up for a ride."

"Good." Marak clapped his friend's shoulder. "Take twentyfive men and follow them. Don't be seen. Make sure"-he grew sober and drilled Cassak with a stare-"make sure the Eramites know this is not a raiding party. It's a sweep of the south desert, nothing more. I don't trust Sucrow to get that across. And bring me the amulet."

"Amulet?" Cassak made a face.

"I'll explain it later. No, I'm not getting suspicious on you. Hurry or you'll miss them."

His captain saluted and raced off. Marak watched him go. There was still the immediate matter of Darsal being alive when she was supposed to be dead.

"Now what?" she asked.

He started back toward the village. "We come up with a story to tell Sucrow."

he idea of going anywhere with a brood of the priest's throaters galled Johnis. But he needed Sucrow's cooperation more than he needed to be stubborn on the point. And Shaeda willed it so.

Therefore, so be it.

Johnis resisted the urge to strike Warryn right off his horse. Or find out what Shaedas power could really do. He had yet to tap into that.

Tempting.

"Patience, my pet .. .

This mental invasion was getting old.

"Yet you enjoy such. . . "

Johnis growled. "I don't."

Shaedas mind flooded him.

Okay, so maybe he did.

They rode along the edge of a sharp cliff with even higher, more perilous verticals on his left and behind him. Rises that came to points so narrow and sharp that even if they could be scaled, no human could ever hope to stand at the pinnacle.

Before him: desert he'd crossed once before, once when it was yet uncharted, on a mission that really should have killed him right at the start.

Of course, that meant nothing.

"Trust runs both ways, boy," Warryn said.

"I never said I trusted you. I said your priest is a rock in my shoe." Johnis scanned the horizon again. Campfires dotted the rises well to their west, smoke curling.

"Eramites," the serpent warrior commented. "Blasphemous half-breeds."

Johnis gave a snort and went back to his horse. He mounted and looked at Silvie.

"To hell and back again?" he asked.

Their last quest had taken them west. But they prepared to go south, just as Shaeda had instructed him.

Retrieve the charm.

Prove Eclipse would work.

Conquer the Horde.

Get rid of Shaeda.

Keep her power.

Johnis winked at Silvie. Her lip curled into a smirk. "To hell and back again."

Warryn didn't have a clue. They were riding again, and Johnis enjoyed the opportunity to gloat. If this man knew half of what Johnis planned for his priest, he would run them through.

Or, at least, would try.

Johnis spurred his horse. A sharp curse and a thud. He spun back around.

Silvie had fallen off her horse. Warryn's right-hand man jumped down faster than she could recover and stomped a foot on her back. His sword pressed her throat.

He'd knocked her off.

Shaeda was oddly quiet. He should feel a surge of power. Instead he seemed more interested in leaving, in continuing on alone.

Leaving Silvie.

No. He would never leave Silvie.

Warryn laughed. Someone brought a torch forward, illuminating their faces in the night. "Didn't you hear, boy? I own hell."

"Hell is owned by your master," Johnis fired back. His heart pounded.

Shaeda, I need you. I need you now!

Shaeda wasn't giving him the clarity, the focus, the resolve he needed. No, no, now was not the time to be stuck in this lethargy!

Power. He needed her power.

No time.

The torch hovered over Silvie's bared skin. The throater licked his lips. "What red-blooded soul wouldn't want this pretty?"

Johnis snarled.

Think, think! You have to move! Shaeda!

But Shaeda couldn't hear or wasn't listening. Which made it possible for her to not always know his mind.

Maybe.

Later.

"What do you want?" he demanded, only to buy time while his mind and body caught up to themselves. He knew the answer.

"Don't touch her."

Warryn chuckled. He dropped down beside his men and crouched. Ran his hand along Silvie's body. "Tell me where we're going." The throater sniffed her skin.

"South of Natalga."

The claws and darkness punished him, tormented, even taunted him.

"Fail me not, my pet .. .

Why won't you help me?

"Your lack of faith ... "

Johnis started to shake, unable to throw off the internal vise on him, the one that demanded he leave them all and take off in a dead sprint to the canyon.

The one that said if he crossed these men, he would lose alliance with Sucrow. He couldn't give them the information. He couldn't give them Silvie.

Warryn's cackle swelled. Clearly, he misunderstood Johnis's plight. Silvie thrashed but couldn't free herself.

"Josefl"

Silvie's scream broke the stranglehold.

Johnis whipped his mount back across the twenty yards or so between them and jumped on the startled throater.

Shaeda blinded him completely. Sharp pain ripped through his mind, down his spine, down into his toes, into his hands.

Do not betray me. . .

You betrayed me!

Warryn tore at him. Johnis flung the stunned elite guard down and dug his knife against the serpent warrior's soft throat.

"Let her up," he snarled. "I swear I'll tear your leader to shreds and tell the priest it was his own doing."

The man didn't move. Johnis nicked Warryn and watched the blood trickle out. For a minute they remained at a stalemate. Evidently they had all expected two passive commoners, not two warriors.

Silvie broke loose and drove one of her knives into the man who'd pinned her down. "Kill him," she snapped.

"Not yet." Johnis dragged Warryn up. "Didn't you hear, throater? Thomas Hunter himself has sung our praises. Never forget that. The next stunt you pull, I run you through. I'm in command here, not you." He let go and remounted.