Medalon (38 page)

R’shiel woke suddenly, startled and unsure of her surroundings. As she looked around she discovered she was in a small cabin on the
Maera’s Daughter
. She lay back and closed her eyes with relief as visions of the previous night filled her head. Tarja was alive. Padric had died trying to undo his deeds. The Fardohnyans from the riverboat had been there, too. Drendik had killed the insane priest. And Ghari—why was he here? The swift change of circumstances left her head spinning.

“Feeling better?”

R’shiel turned toward the voice and opened her eyes. The Harshini woman was seated on the other bunk, watching over her. She had black-on-black eyes, flawless skin and thick dark red hair. She had introduced herself as Shananara as she had led R’shiel away from the demons. R’shiel glanced down and discovered her burned hands were unmarked. In fact, her whole body felt renewed. She couldn’t remember ever feeling so well.

“I feel…wonderful. Did you do that?”

“I just gave your own healing powers a bit of a helping hand.”

“Thank you,” R’shiel said, genuinely grateful. With the physical pain gone, it was far easier to ignore the mental scars. She pushed back the blanket and sat up, a little startled to discover she was clean, but naked, under the covers. She hurriedly pulled the blanket up to cover herself.

“You have learnt the human concept of modesty, I fear.”

Shananara reached into a deep bag and handed R’shiel a set of black riding leathers, similar to those she wore. “I thought you might need something to wear. We are of a size, I suspect. They should fit you.” Shananara mistook her astonishment for embarrassment. “It’s all right. I won’t look.”

The Harshini woman politely turned her back as R’shiel dressed in the supple leathers. She had worn long concealing skirts all her life and the velvety leather of the Harshini outfit clung to her frame as if moulded to it. R’shiel felt rather exposed. When Shananara turned back she clapped her hands delightedly.

“Now you look like a true Harshini Dragon Rider!” she declared. “But for your eyes, it’s hard to believe you have any human blood in you at all.”

“I find it harder to accept that I have Harshini blood,” R’shiel remarked with a frown.

“Your mother never told you anything useful, did she? Who your father was, for instance? How she met him? Why he abandoned her? If he even knew of your existence?”

“My mother…my real mother died when I was born.”

“I’m sorry, R’shiel. I didn’t know. Family raised you, then? An aunt or uncle, perhaps?”

R’shiel wondered how much she should tell her. This woman had arrived on a dragon. She was a member of a race that the Sisterhood had deliberately set out to exterminate. R’shiel was not certain how Shananara would take the news that she had been raised by the current First Sister.

“I was taken in by someone,” R’shiel told her, evasively.

“Someone who lived at the Citadel?” Shananara asked, as she walked to the small shelf near the door and took down two goblets and a wineskin. “Don’t let it bother you, R’shiel. Dranymire and the demons have felt the bond with you ever since you reached maturity. We know you lived at the Citadel. It is nothing to be ashamed of.” She offered R’shiel a cup of wine. The sweet liquid slipped down her throat and warmed her through.

“I’m not ashamed of being raised in the Citadel.”

“You might have been a Sister of the Blade. Now that would have been interesting.” The idea seemed to amuse Shananara greatly.

“How dare you laugh at me! You don’t know anything about me. You don’t know who I am. You don’t know what I think, or what I feel, or what I’ve been through! You’re not even real!”

“Oh, I’m real enough, R’shiel. As for who you are and what you feel, let me take an educated guess. You were probably a perfectly normal human girl up until…what? About two years ago? A little brighter than your friends perhaps, quicker to learn, faster to pick things up? You never got sick. In fact, you never
had much trouble with anything. Then one day, the sight of meat started to repulse you. And headaches, there would have been terrible, terrible headaches. It went on for months until finally you couldn’t even stand the smell of meat and the headaches were so painful you could barely lift your head in the mornings. How am I doing so far?”

“Tarja told you all of this!”

Shananara shook her head. “He did not, as well you know. Do you want me to go on?” R’shiel looked away, but she continued without waiting for an answer. “Finally, your menses arrived, years after all of your friends. The headaches vanished and the smell of meat no longer made you sick to your stomach, but other strange things began to happen to you, didn’t they? Your skin took on a golden cast that looked as if you’d been tanning yourself in the middle of winter. You could see auras around people sometimes. You began to feel strange, as if something far away was calling to you, but you couldn’t work out what it was. Eventually, the pull became so much a part of you that you didn’t even notice it anymore. Until today. Until you met Dranymire and the demons.”

R’shiel felt tears pricking her eyes as Shananara described her life so accurately it was painful. There was no way she could have known any of it.

“How do know this? Who told you?”

“Who did you tell, R’shiel? You claim Tarja told me, but you never told him, did you?”

“How could you know any of this?”

“I know because every half-human Harshini goes through the same ordeal as they approach puberty. Your experience is not unique, R’shiel. Had you been
at Sanctuary, where people understood what you were going through, it would have been much easier for you. I can explain it if you like.”

“Explain what?”

“Your aversion to meat for instance,” she said. “Harshini can’t eat meat, but humans can. It’s all part of the prohibition we have against killing. The only time it seems to affect half-bloods is during the onset of puberty. Ask Brak, if you don’t believe me. Like you, he is half-human.”

R’shiel accepted that news with barely a flicker of surprise. She was beyond shock, beyond awe.

“And the headaches?”

“Half-human children can’t reach the source of Harshini power until they mature.” Seeing her uncomprehending expression, Shananara frowned. “Think of it as a door in your mind that opens onto a river of magic. Until you reach maturity, the door is locked. Opening it can be painful. I don’t know why, that’s just the way it is. The headaches were the result of your mind trying to open a door to your power.”

“Then I really am one of you?”

“Yes, R’shiel, you really are.”

“Who is my father?”

Shananara hesitated before answering. “Do you remember what Dranymire said when he greeted you?”

She nodded. “He said, ‘Well met, Your Highness.’ Although why, I can’t imagine.” Looking back, she didn’t know why she had even approached the creature, or stood there surrounded by the ugly little grey monsters who swarmed over her. All she could recall was a need to reach out and touch the beautiful
beast. To be wrapped in the security of the demons’ affection, where she felt, for the first time in her life, that she was truly whole.

“Dranymire and his demon brethren are bonded to the té Ortyn house. They can feel the call of your blood.” Shananara thought for a moment before continuing. “How old are you, R’shiel?”

“Twenty.”

Shananara nodded. “That would make you born in the Year of the Cheating Moon.” She rolled her eyes. “Now there’s an omen, if ever I needed one! Only two té Ortyn males were alive at the time of your birth, R’shiel: my brother Korandellen, who has never stepped foot outside of Sanctuary, and our uncle, Lorandranek, whom we were never able to keep inside. Lorandranek was your father.”

“Lorandranek,” R’shiel said, the name sounding strange, yet familiar. “Wasn’t he the Harshini King when the Sisterhood freed Medalon from idolatry?”

“When the Sisterhood freed Medalon?” she repeated with a shake of her head. “My, we have a long road ahead of us, don’t we? But yes, he was king at the time the Sisterhood…
freed
…Medalon.”

R’shiel pulled her feet up and tucked them under her on the narrow bunk, feeling a little more sure about herself. She knew her history. “That was nearly two hundred years ago. How could he be my father?”

“Lorandranek was nearly nine hundred years old when he died, R’shiel, and he wasn’t an old man. You are going to have to learn not to think in human terms.”

“I’m sorry that you find my humanity so distressing.”

“Oh! R’shiel, I didn’t mean it like that! You have so much to learn, that’s all. But that will come with time. It’s just that…”

“What?”

“The problem is not
you
, it’s
what
you are.”

“So what am I?” R’shiel asked.

“Lorandranek’s heir.”

“And this means…?” R’shiel prompted, leaning forward a little. Being Lorandranek’s heir might be a title of great importance to the Harshini, but it meant absolutely nothing to her.

“At best? That we are cousins!”

“And at worst?” Getting information out of the Harshini woman was like picking straw off a blanket.

“At worst, R’shiel, it means you are the demon child.”

They gathered around a cheerful fire on the shore of the river later that evening. Aber and Gazil had prepared quite a feast from the boat’s stores and everyone had eaten their fill. The Fardohnyans had gone to a great deal of trouble to produce a special meal for the Harshini woman that contained no meat. For most of them it was the first substantial meal they had consumed in days. The demons were scattered around them, even more numerous than before. The other dragon had dissolved into a clutter of little demons not long after Brak and Tarja had spoken with Lord Dranymire. They avoided the humans gathered around the fire, although Lord Dranymire had sidled up to Shananara once she had finished eating and ingratiated his way into her lap, seemingly without her noticing. She stroked his wrinkled grey head absently, with the familiarity of long association.

R’shiel tried not to notice the demons and watched Tarja, wondering about him. The welcome discovery that he had escaped the noose waiting for him at the vineyard had done much to help ease the
anguish of the last few days. Tarja glanced up and smiled at her distractedly.

The startling news that she was a Harshini princess had been met with mixed reactions. The Fardohnyans had applauded the tidings and announced confidently that they had suspected as much, all along. Ghari had looked at her with wide eyes and said nothing. Tarja and Brak had seemed neither surprised nor pleased by the news. R’shiel desperately wanted to ask Tarja what he thought. However, there were more important issues to be resolved first.

“Had I known R’shiel had it in her to destroy the priest’s staff, we would have risked going after her ourselves,” Shananara said. The Harshini had not taken the news about R’shiel’s destruction of the staff very well at all. R’shiel wondered why it caused such a fuss. Given a chance to live the last day again, she wouldn’t have acted any differently.

“It’s done now,” Drendik said philosophically. “There’s naught to be done but make the best of things.”

Shananara nodded and turned her attention to Tarja. “I owe you thanks for what you did. All of you. R’shiel is very important to us.”

“Not just to you,” Tarja replied.

Shananara studied him in the firelight. “What will you do now?”

“If the Kariens invade, and it’s likely they will as soon as they hear of Pieter’s death, then the Defenders must be on the northern border. I have to get back to Testra to warn them.”

“Why Testra?” R’shiel asked.

“The Defenders have been mobilised. By the time I get back to Testra, they should be there.”

“Isn’t it time to let this go, Tarja?” Brak asked with a shake of his head.

“It’s my fault,” Tarja shrugged. “I’m responsible for the Envoy’s death. It’s up to me to ensure that the Defenders are warned.”

“Assuming they listen to you. As you just pointed out, they have been mobilised to hunt you down. The chances are they’ll kill you before you get close enough to warn them of anything.”

“I still have to try,” Tarja insisted stubbornly.

“We will take you,” Drendik offered, glancing at his brothers, who nodded in agreement.

“I thought you were heading home?”

Drendik shrugged. “This is more fun.”

“I think you’re crazy. But thank you.” He turned his attention back to Brak and Shananara. “The Defenders will move in stages. There simply aren’t enough boats on the river to move them all at once. Jenga will be in the advance party. The First Sister will probably follow in the second wave. There will be three companies, four at the most, in the advance party. If the rebels create a diversion, and I get to Jenga before the First Sister arrives, I might have a chance of convincing him.” Tarja glanced at Ghari. “Are you with me?”

The young man nodded. “Unless you’re planning to take on the entire Defender Corps single handed, I suppose I must be. But it will take some talking to convince many of our number that you haven’t betrayed them. With Padric dead, there is nobody they trust left to lead them. Many of the rebels will simply give up and go home.”

“Then we have to get to our people before they do,” Tarja said. “And find a way to convince them we speak the truth.”

“I’ll go with you,” R’shiel heard herself say, unsure what had made her volunteer.

Shananara objected immediately. “R’shiel, don’t be a fool! You are wanted by the Defenders and marked by Xaphista. The only place you will be truly safe is at Sanctuary. Besides, you are a Princess of the Blood. You can’t go gallivanting around Medalon like a homeless orphan.”

“If Tarja fails and the Kariens invade Medalon, I won’t be safe anywhere,” she said, her decision becoming clearer in her mind as she spoke. “Neither will you. I don’t care who you think I am, Shananara. I was a homeless orphan yesterday, and despite what you tell me about who I might be, I still feel like a homeless orphan. Tarja has saved my life so many times I’m beginning to lose count. If I can help convince the rebels that he speaks the truth, then I will.”

“If that does not convince you she is Lorandranek’s get, nothing will,” Dranymire rumbled from Shananara’s lap. “Recklessness was ever a trait of his.”

Brak glanced at the demon, before looking at R’shiel. “Do you understand what you are saying, R’shiel? What you are refusing?”

“I’m refusing to turn my back on a friend.”

“We cannot help you if you go with them,” Shananara reminded her. “And I dread to think of Korandellen’s reaction when he hears that I have let you go.”

“He should be delighted that I won’t be around to muddy the clear line of succession.” Why should she care what the Harshini King thought, cousin or not? “Besides, I have no interest in being your demon child. I don’t believe in your gods and I don’t want to be a Harshini. I just want things back the way they were!”

“You want to return to the Sisterhood?” Shananara asked dubiously. “Knowing what you are? R’shiel, they would kill you if they even suspected the truth.”

“And what are you offering me? What is the demon child supposed to do? Or am I just some awkward accident that you haven’t figured out how to deal with?”

“I will not lie to you, R’shiel, it is not an easy path that lies ahead for you. There is a task the demon child must perform. But the decision will be yours.”

R’shiel was completely fed up with being the instrument of other people’s expectations. Joyhinia had stolen her from her family to raise her to be what she wanted. Now these people, who shouldn’t even exist, had a “task” for her. Rebellion flared inside her like brandy thrown onto an open flame.

“No!” she said flatly.

“R’shiel, maybe you should think this over,” Tarja suggested.

“Since when have you been on their side?”

“I’m not on their side. I just don’t think you should be quite so hasty, that’s all.”

“I don’t care what you think,” she snapped. “I just want to be left alone.”

“Her father to the core,” Dranymire rumbled. “Lorandranek lives again.”

“Do you mind?” R’shiel snapped. There was something hugely disturbing about being laughed at by a demon.

“I mean you no disrespect, princess,” Dranymire said. “I admired your father greatly. He too, despaired of being responsible for others. He did not feel himself worthy of the task. Nor was he particularly enchanted with the idea of being king. His reluctance made him a great one. Power always sits safer with those who do not seek it. I have missed him. You remind me of him a great deal.”

Silence followed the demon’s statement. R’shiel was aware that everyone was looking at her and the feeling made her intensely uncomfortable. She glanced across at Tarja, who was studying her with concern.

“If R’shiel wants to come with me, then she is welcome,” he told the Harshini, not taking his eyes from her. “She is right when she says I will need help to convince the rebels. Perhaps she will join you when she has had an opportunity to…
grow accustomed
…to her new status.” Tarja glanced at Brak. A look passed between the two men that R’shiel didn’t understand.

“You are risking her life, Tarja,” Shananara pointed out, obviously hoping to appeal to his commonsense where she had failed with R’shiel.

“It’s her life to risk. You were more than happy to leave her in the hands of the Kariens, a couple of days ago.”

“That’s hardly fair,” Brak objected.

“She’s right in saying that her presence will help,” Ghari added, lending Tarja his support. “Without
proof, the rebels will hang Tarja, soon as look at him. If we bring them the demon child—”

“I am not the demon child!”
R’shiel declared. “Will you please stop pretending that I am?”

Shananara shook her head. “Dranymire is right. You are as reckless as your father was. You have no idea of the danger you are in, R’shiel.”

“It would make little difference if she did,” Dranymire observed. “She will go with her friends, regardless of what you tell her. You are té Ortyn yourself Shananara. How much notice have you ever taken of others? Even your brother? Grant your cousin the same privilege.”

Shananara took in the words of the demon, then glanced at Brak with a shake of her head, before turning back to R’shiel. “Very well, if you must go with them, I cannot stop you, much that I wish I could. But I will not allow you to leave completely ignorant of your heritage. We have the night ahead of us. You will learn something of your power before you leave, I will see to that. Come.”

There seemed to be as much a threat as an offer of assistance in her cousin’s words, but R’shiel rose and followed Shananara into the darkness beyond the fire.

“You must understand what it is that makes you unique,” Shananara told her, as they seated themselves on the ground at the top of the small knoll where she had watched the dragons landing earlier that day. “What separates you from all others, human or Harshini.”

“You mean other than the fact that I don’t want to be your wretched demon child?”

Shananara sighed. “You are what you are, R’shiel. Denying it will not make it go away. In time, you will come to see that you must accept your destiny, or…”

“Or what?”

“Or you will never be content,” Shananara replied. “Now let us begin. As I was saying, your power is unique. All Harshini can tap the power of the gods. In your case…”

“Doesn’t that make you gods, too?”

“No. It means that…Oh dear, this is going to take forever…You don’t even understand the nature of the gods, do you? This is like explaining philosophy to a tree stump.”

R’shiel smiled at the Harshini’s frustration. “So I guess that means you’ll just have to forget about me. Thanks anyway, Shananara, but…”

“Sit down!”
Shananara’s voice cut through her like a sliver of ice. The Harshini might have an aversion to violence, but it seemed a bit of mental compulsion wasn’t out of the question. Helplessly, R’shiel obeyed the command. “You foolish child. You have no idea of the damage you could do to yourself, let alone others. The Harshini are linked to each other through the power of the gods and every time you inadvertently draw on that power, you risk harm to yourself and to us. The last time you drew on that power, even the gods trembled.”

“The last time?” R’shiel asked, rather chastened by Shananara’s outburst.

“You tried to kill someone, R’shiel. No, worse than that, you wanted to make him suffer. You deliberately set out to torment another living creature. Your human side might have thought it
justified, but your actions tore through the soul of every Harshini and demon linked to that power. You cannot let that happen again. Not if you wish to live.”

“Are you threatening me?”

“Of course not. I am incapable of even thinking such a thing. But there are others who are not. The demons are not bound by our aversion to violence and their bond with the Harshini demands they protect us. If they come to believe you are a threat, then they will do whatever it takes to ensure that threat does not continue. Do you understand?”

R’shiel nodded slowly, the reality of her situation beginning to sink in with a certain amount of dread.

“Good. Now, are you ready to continue?”

“Yes.” She didn’t want to admit it, but Shananara had frightened her.

“That’s better. Now let’s go back to the picture of the door in your mind I used before. That made sense, didn’t it?”

R’shiel nodded.

“Well, when you reach for the power, you open that door. A normal Harshini…dips a cup into the river and takes the magic he or she needs for the task at hand. If the task requires more than they can channel, then they must appeal to the gods directly for their assistance.”

“Is that what happened when I broke the staff?”

“Not exactly. The Staff of Xaphista is more a destroyer of magic than a weapon. The more magic you have, the more painful it is. That’s why you were burned. To break it requires you to draw sufficient magic to fight the effects of the staff long enough to
destroy it. What you did was no mean feat. The staff is not alive, but it can sense when it is threatened.”

“You speak as if it still exists.”

“It does,” Shananara assured her. “Not the one you destroyed, certainly. But every priest carries a staff and they are all as dangerous as Elfron’s. Don’t think that destroying one has removed the threat.” She hesitated before continuing. “We are related to the Karien Priests, R’shiel. Once, a long time ago, they were Harshini, like us. Although the line is almost extinct, Xaphista keeps the demon bond alive by making his priests drink his blood during their initiation. He feeds off his believers and trust me, he has millions of them. His power rivals that of a Primal God. Incurring his wrath is not a thing you should take lightly.”

R’shiel shuddered at the thought of ever meeting another of Xaphista’s priests. “So what must I learn?”

Shananara sighed. “R’shiel, if we had a thousand nights like this one, I still could not teach you all you must know. You don’t understand the difference between a Primal and an Incidental God. You don’t understand the nature of demons, or how they are bonded to the Harshini. You don’t even understand the difference between you and other Harshini.”

“Well that’s hardly my fault,” R’shiel pointed out, a little annoyed by Shananara’s despairing tone. “What is the difference?”