The Pearls (10 page)

It was as though an enormous, invisible hand began to squeeze the air from her lungs. She fought to breathe, struggling to control her terrified horse, struggling not to faint, while she tried to reach for her necklace.

“Spirits of…”

Her plea for help faded in her throat, unspoken. She could not lift her hand high enough. Her fingertips barely touched the necklace before her hand dropped slackly to her side. Black speckles danced in her vision, and her ears were roaring with thunder. Dropping the reins, she slumped over, heedless of Rinthella desperately shaking her and calling her name.

The black warrior rode forward, reaching out for her, and Lea screamed helplessly in her mind.

“Got you, m'lady!” Thirbe yelled as though from far away.

He galloped up through the falling snow, yelling an old legion war cry, and swung his sword at the torso of the black warrior. His sword caught the black warrior across the back, knocking him forward, and the suffocating hold on Lea vanished.

She choked in a breath, coughing, and pushed herself upright in the saddle. She felt icy cold, a little sick. Her entire body was trembling.

Rinthella gripped the back of her cloak to steady her. “Let's go. Let's go!” she cried.

Half-dazed, Lea could barely hear her for the fury of Thirbe's cursing over the clang and clash of swords. The black warrior had righted himself from Thirbe's initial blow. Now he fought back in silence, defending himself against Thirbe's furious onslaught before he suddenly seized the offensive by landing a blow that split Thirbe's shield and rocked her protector in his saddle.

Lea nearly cried out, but checked herself, backing a frightened Ysandre out of the way as the combat continued. Watching the men, she knew suddenly with a harsh twisting of fear that her protector was no match for this foe. She could see a gold insignia eagle on the black breastplate, saw, too, the muted gleam of an imperial medal at his throat.

Bewilderment filled her. If this man belonged to her brother's army, what mistake, what error was prompting imperial forces to attack them?

Rinthella poked her. “My lady, let's get out of here!”

“I can't abandon him.”

Rinthella went on protesting, but Lea stopped listening.

“Commander!” she called out, trying to sound firm although her voice came out weak and shaky. “Stop this assault, in the name of the emperor!”

The warrior's low, evil laugh stopped the rest of what she tried to say. Something in that laugh sent icy prickles of fear through her body. She had the sudden feeling that he knew exactly who she was and that his actions were no mistake. In that instant, her mind reeled with questions: Had there been an uprising? Was Caelan dethroned? Was the army in revolt? She pushed them away. This was not a time for conjecture.

As Thirbe parried another blow clumsily, taking it on his shoulder, she gripped her
gli
-emeralds, calling on the earth spirits with all her strength. The ground shook slightly beneath them, and Ysandre whirled around, snorting, ready to bolt. She reined him hard, barely keeping control of him, and saw the other man with the brutish face block her line of retreat with his scarred warhorse. His eyes were those of a man, not a shadow-sworn demon, but there was no mercy in them. He gave her an evil little grin, saying something she did not understand and pointing his sword at her.

“Gault save us,” Rinthella was praying under her breath, but Lea kept her concentration on the earth spirits. They were bringing what she asked for, but slowly, too slowly.

“Please,” Lea whispered, desperate that they should respond in time. The ground shook again, causing Ysandre to jump and neigh in fear.

A splintering crash caught her attention in time for her to see Thirbe's damaged shield break. He threw the pieces away, swinging up his sword to parry another hard attack. He was tiring, Lea saw. His face looked strained and grim, but even as he fended off another blow, he succeeded in throwing her a look.

“Run, m'lady!” he shouted. “In Gault's name, run!”

But Lea would not desert him. Letting the second man think he had her hemmed in, she squeezed her necklace harder, making the stones dig into the tender flesh of her palms, while urging the spirits to hurry. And now she heard a distant rumbling. It grew louder while the ground shook steadily, not violently, but trembling with a gathering force that made Ysandre rear. Even the warhorses took fright, and when the black warrior's mount shied back, he missed bringing Thirbe down with what would have probably been a fatal blow.

Swearing, Thirbe charged him, retaliating while he had that momentary advantage. But that wasn't what Lea had in mind.

“Thirbe, disengage combat!” she yelled.

The men continued fighting, her protector ignoring her order.

“Thirbe!” she shouted.

But he grunted suddenly, making an odd, compressed little sound of pain, and slumped partway from the saddle. His sword dropped to the ground. The black warrior rode around him, arrogant in triumph, and raised his weapon for one last blow.

“No!” Lea screamed.

At that moment, the ground rippled and split open like a plowed furrow. It opened beneath the black warrior's mount, and the horse reared up in terror even as Thirbe's horse bolted with him. Thirbe fell from the saddle and hit the ground limply, rolling over and over before he lay unmoving.

“Thirbe!” Lea yelled.

She tried to rein Ysandre out of the way of the running furrow, intending to go to Thirbe's side. Her valiant gelding, fully panicked now, bucked and ran backward with her. Rinthella fell off, landing on her knees in the trampled snow and mud. With all her strength Lea hauled on the reins and managed to circle Ysandre around to go back for her.

“Rinthella!” she shouted. “To me! Quickly!”

But her attendant wasn't listening. “The opal!” she cried, still on her knees and frantically patting the ground. “The opal! I've dropped it, and we need it for luck!”

“Come on!” Lea yelled, kicking Ysandre in Rinthella's direction. “Rinthella, leave it!”

But the scarred soldier was faster. He sent his horse leaping over the split ground to reach Rinthella. The woman screamed and scrambled up to run, but he bent low from the saddle and threw her across his mount's withers. Kicking violently, Rinthella fought him, but he pulled her upright and tore at her bodice, laughing all the while.

Rinthella screamed.

Frantically, Lea called on the earth spirits again. A second furrow raised the dirt, splitting open the ground and running straight at the soldier. His horse reared and plunged back, and Lea turned the furrow to follow him.

“Let her go!” she shouted.

For answer, the centruin pushed Rinthella off his horse so that she fell sprawling across the splitting ground. Her scream of agony horrified Lea, who could not stop the earth spirits in time.

“Rinthella!” she cried.

At that moment she was struck from behind, hard enough to knock her forward onto Ysandre's neck. The frightened horse dropped his head, and she went sliding off, hitting the ground with a teeth-rattling jolt.

Half-stunned, she had no time to recover before the black warrior had dismounted and was standing over her, his red eyes blazing through his visor. He bent down and ripped the necklace from her throat. The chain cut her flesh, making it sting and bleed, but Lea was too frightened to truly register the pain.

As the necklace was taken from her, that strong connection of hers with the earth spirits, with all
quai
and elements of harmony, snapped, leaving only a weak vestige of what it had been. Disoriented, she sat up, intending to gain her feet and run, but the warrior was too fast for her. He scooped her up in powerful arms and flung her facedown across his horse.

She was nearly fainting. With all her might she struggled to hang on to consciousness. A strange lassitude was creeping through her body. It did not suffocate her this time, but her helplessness scared her so much she found it hard to breathe anyway.

He climbed into the saddle, his knees bumping into her as he settled himself and dug his feet into his stirrups. When he rested his hand lightly on her back, she felt an involuntary
sevaisin
connect them before she fought it off. Revulsion overwhelmed her. She thought for a moment that she might be sick.

“Now,” he said in satisfaction. His voice, to her surprise, was refined rather than guttural. He spoke Lingua without a trace of provincial accent. “Fomo! Sound the recall.”

Lea heard the blare of a horn. Its shrill call echoed across the valley, carrying a note that seemed to twist painfully inside Lea as though she'd been stabbed by a knife.

Wanting desperately to see how the Crimsons had fared, she pushed against the side of the horse and lifted her head and shoulders. She saw the foot soldiers stop fighting in response to the horn's summons. They left the battle and came running across the stream, threading their way through the ruins at a fast, odd gait that to Lea's eyes did not look entirely natural. She felt chilled and small, her fear so cold and her heart on fire. Choking back a sob, she let her head droop until the sound of shouts made her look up once more.

Those of the Crimsons still able were coming in pursuit. She squinted through the swirling snow, seeing the cavalrymen riding hard in an effort to catch the attackers. She saw their bright cloaks through the falling snow like pinpricks of hope. Courageously they were coming for her with Captain Hervan in the lead. Torn and muddied, he'd lost both cloak and plumed helmet. But he was galloping full tilt, his sword held aloft, his voice yelling war cries like a man demented.

Gratitude swelled inside her. She felt sorry now that she'd been so impatient with him, sorry that she'd wished him a thousand times back in New Imperia and flirting with someone else.

Hurry, please!
she thought, wanting to shout it.

Her captor coolly held his position until his men approached and the Crimsons were closing in. The
quai
of death and violence crisscrossed the air, battering her senses. Whether her captor was delaying flight just to taunt the Crimsons or planning some trick, Lea did not know. She vacillated between hope of rescue and fear that she would see all the cavalrymen die before her eyes.

Thirbe, Rinthella, Fyngie…so many others slain or wounded—their shocked expressions and cries of agony played again and again through Lea's mind. Grief threatened to overwhelm her, but she pushed it aside for anger—wild, reckless anger, and a desire for revenge.

Lea struggled to resist whatever magic her captor was using to subdue her. Drawing his boot knife, she tried to stab him in the calf, but he was too quick. His gloved hand caught her wrist, crushing it until her fingers went numb. Just as she dropped the knife, he plucked away the small weapon.

“You've fought enough, pretty one,” he said to her harshly. “No more trouble from you.”

She opened her mouth to defy him, but the centruin gestured for his attention.

“Now, Commander!” he rasped out in a guttural voice. “Now!”

Her captor sheathed his weapons just as his men reached him at a run. They milled around, swearing oaths if they had the breath, and brandishing their swords. Their commander raised his free hand high.

“In the emperor's name!” Hervan bawled, galloping ahead of his men. “Let her go!”

The commander in black armor wheeled his horse around, as though intending to flee. Still holding his hand aloft, he called out three words, three terrible words that should never have been uttered again in this world. Three terrible words known to darkness, shadow, and all things evil, words that should no longer have carried power or force. He spoke them with confidence and authority, like a true believer of Beloth the shadow god.

Spikes of pain hit Lea, making her cry out. She saw a black maw of the shadow world yawning before her.

Horrified, Lea could not believe it, did not want to believe it. Without the power of Beloth, no one was supposed to be strong enough to open even the slightest door into the realm of demons. Yet her captor possessed enough power to fling the Hidden Ways wide open. Who was he?
What
was he? Shocked and disbelieving, she tried to twist herself to look up at him, but his magic still held her all but motionless.

“In the emperor's name, let her go!” Hervan roared. “You will surrender!”

Without answer, the commander led his men into the shadow world. Just inside, however, he reined up and let his men stream inside ahead of him. He was muttering under his breath as though counting, and Lea felt a shudder of effort go through his body.

“Let her go!” Hervan yelled.

“Fomo.” The commander spoke quietly, but with force.

The centruin on the scarred horse wheeled his mount around, sword already swinging to meet Hervan's reckless charge at them.

Swords clanged like a thunderclap, and the warhorses thrust hard against each other, bugling in fury of their own. Then Hervan went down, tumbling from his saddle and sprawling on the ground.