Treason Keep (41 page)

“Where’s Captain Tenragan?”

“He’s not here.”

“Who’s the ranking Defender officer then?”

Almodavar looked a little annoyed at the man’s insistence on following Defender protocol.

“If you have news man, out with it.”

The Defender looked as if he was going to argue the point, but weariness won out over procedure.

“I have a message from the Lord Defender,” he said. “The Kariens crossed the border two days after you left. The Defenders were ordered to throw down their arms. The Kariens have control of the Keep.”

Almodavar nodded, unsurprised by the news. “Jenga ordered you to founder a horse just to tell us that?”

He shook his head. “No. He sent me to tell you that two hundred Kariens were dispatched south at the same time. He thinks they know about the princess. Cratyn is leading them himself.”

Adrina’s heart skipped a beat. Surely they had enough lead on them to escape? The Kariens could not travel as fast as their troop and they were making excellent time.

Almodavar nodded and glanced at Adrina. Her expression must have betrayed her thoughts. “They’ll not catch us, your Highness.”

“Not if we keep moving,” she agreed.

Adrina left the rest of it unsaid. Almodavar knew, as well as she, that a force of a thousand Defenders was blocking the way south.

From a distance, the northern plains looked as flat and featureless as a tabletop. The view was deceptive, though. In reality the plains were a series of low rolling folds that concealed as much as they revealed. Tarja, Damin and the Hythrun scout, whose name was Colsy, dismounted some distance from the Defenders. They led their horses off the road for quite a way, before leaving them to fend for themselves as they scrambled up a low hillside, dropping on their bellies as they neared the summit.

“Gods!” Damin muttered as they reached the top.

Tarja studied the scene below, forcing down a wave of despair. The column of Defenders was stretched out along the road in a snaking line that stretched for half a league or more. At its head, rode a Karien knight, displaying a coat of arms on his shield that he could not make out from this distance.

“Do you have your looking-glass?”

Damin nodded and handed Tarja the instrument from the pouch he carried on his belt. Tarja aimed it at the knight’s shield. As the three silver pike on a red
field slowly resolved into focus he swore softly, then handed it back to Damin.

“Well, at least that answers the question about the whereabouts of the Duke of Setenton.”

Damin took the looking-glass and followed Tarja’s pointing finger.

“And where the order for the surrender came from,” Damin agreed. “What’s he doing leading half the damned Defender Corps north?”

Half was a gross exaggeration, but that near a thousand Defenders marched under the command of a Karien knight was cause enough for concern.

“If he was waiting at the Citadel when R’shiel arrived…” Tarja didn’t finish the sentence. He was afraid to put his thought into words.

“I wonder who’s in the carriage,” Colsy added, pointing at the elaborate vehicle drawn by six matched horses, which trundled along behind the Kariens.

“That’s the First Sister’s carriage.”

“That’s all we need,” Damin groaned. “Joyhinia Tenragan, in all her vicious glory. I thought you destroyed her wit after Dacendaran stole it?”

“So did I.”

Damin returned the looking-glass to its case and rolled onto his back. He put his hands behind his head and stared at the pale sky for a moment then looked at Tarja.

“They’ll be on us by nightfall.”

“Or so close it won’t matter.”

“I’ve always fancied myself a brilliant warrior, Tarja, but odds of ten to one are a bit much, even for me.”

Tarja nodded. “There’s nothing to be achieved by engaging them.”

“So what do we do? Hide until they ride by? Head overland?”

“If we turn off the road, it’ll take a lot longer to reach the river and even more time to find a place where we can cross. Cauthside is the only place with a decent barge this side of Testra.” He didn’t add that going overland meant turning west. Damin knew it without having it spelled out for him.

“Then it seems we have no choice. We hide until they pass by.”

“That may not be as simple as you think. Terbolt might be in command, but the Defenders won’t let that interfere with their normal routine. They’ll have scouts out, you can be certain.”

“I didn’t see any,” Colsy objected.

“That doesn’t mean they aren’t out there,” Tarja warned.

Damin nodded in agreement. “The reputation of the Defenders is well earned. All the more reason not to take them on.”

“If we’re careful, we should be able to avoid them,” Tarja suggested.

The Warlord smiled wistfully. “Remember the good old days, Tarja? When you and I knew exactly who our enemies were? I miss them.”

“I remember them well.
You
were the enemy, as I recall.”

“And you were always one step ahead of me. I always meant to ask you how you managed that.”

“I probably shouldn’t disillusion you, but it was luck as much as anything.”

Damin grinned. “I don’t believe you. Nobody could be that lucky.”

“Alright, if it makes you happy, it was my sheer tactical brilliance.”

“Just as I always suspected,” Damin agreed. He rolled over and stared down at the advancing Defenders. “I have to tell you. The sight of those Defenders has completely ruined my day, you know that, don’t you?”

“You’ll get over it.”

“Eventually,” Damin sighed. “Let’s get back to the others.”

“Aren’t we going to do
anything
?” Colsy asked, obviously disappointed.

“We are going to hide, young man.”

“Hiding is for women.”

“And very smart men,” the Warlord retorted.

It was late afternoon before they located Almodavar and the rest of their band. The Hythrun captain had done an excellent job of concealing their presence. But for some scattered tracks heading toward the tree-line, there was nothing to indicate that more than a hundred men were concealed among the trees. Tarja looked around the camp with approval. The Hythrun seemed to lack discipline, but when it really counted, they did exactly as they were ordered.

Adrina hurried forward as they rode into the camp. The change in her was quite remarkable, Tarja thought. She seemed to have shed her spoilt outer shell. She had ridden without complaint, as though she was trying to prove she was worthy of the danger they had placed themselves in by offering her
protection. Her face brightened at Damin’s approach, revealing far more than she meant to.

Tarja was wary of Damin’s relationship with Adrina. It was fraught with danger and long-term ramifications that did not bear thinking about. Despite the insistence of both Damin and Adrina that the relationship meant nothing, Tarja could see the danger signs. Adrina never strayed far from Damin and he was prepared to risk his life to keep her by his side. Tarja understood what it was like to be willing to lay down your life for someone you loved. He wondered how long it would be before the Hythrun Warlord and the Fardohnyan Princess worked it out for themselves.

“Cratyn’s coming!” Adrina cried as Damin dismounted.

Damin looked over her shoulder at Almodavar who approached them at a much more dignified pace.

“She speaks the truth, my Lord. Jenga sent a messenger to warn us.”

Tarja dismounted and let Shadow be led away by one of his own men who had clustered around them, anxious for news.

“How far behind us?”

“A day or two, three at the outside.”

“This could make things interesting,” Damin remarked laconically.

Adrina punched his arm impatiently. “
Interesting
? Don’t you realise the danger we’re in?”

Tarja understood Adrina’s annoyance. Damin had a bad habit of treating everything as if it was some sort of elaborate game. His refusal to take anything seriously could be frustrating at times. In this case it was downright dangerous.

“She has a point, Damin.”

“What’s the problem?” he shrugged. “We’ve already agreed that it would be insane to take the Defenders on. We can’t go overland—it will slow us down too much—so we hide. The Defenders will ride by us, none the wiser.”

“And run straight into Cratyn,” Tarja reminded him. “What do you think will happen then?”

“If we’re lucky, they’ll wipe each other out,” the Warlord chuckled.

“Be serious!”

Damin had the decency to look contrite. “You’re right. If Cratyn knows when we left, and we haven’t been seen by the Defenders, even
he
should be able to figure out that we’re around here somewhere.”

“Can’t we slip past the Defenders?” Adrina asked hopefully. There was an edge of desperation in her voice.

Tarja shook his head. “Not a chance.”

“Then we go overland,” Damin said, no happier with the idea than Tarja. But at least this way they would have a chance of avoiding the two forces that were inexorably closing in on them. But it took him away from the Citadel. Away from R’shiel.

“If we start moving now, we can put a few leagues between us and the Defenders by nightfall.”

The Warlord nodded and ordered Almodavar to get everyone moving. Tarja’s stomach rumbled in complaint, reminding him that he had missed lunch as Damin led Adrina away, his arm around her shoulder.

As he watched the retreating couple he frowned. He should have put a stop to it. That he would have had
more chance of stopping the sun rising tomorrow did little to ease his concern. Were it not for Adrina, Cratyn would more than likely have ignored the Hythrun refusal to surrender. What were a thousand Hythrun to a man who could muster a hundred thousand men? If Cratyn was simply chasing down his errant wife, then it was bad enough. If anyone suspected that she and Damin were lovers, and shared their suspicions with the prince, Cratyn wouldn’t rest until every last person who knew of the liaison was dead. He was the Karien Crown Prince and his religion demanded the most terrible vengeance he could wreak. Adrina’s infidelity could not be forgiven—it could only be washed away in blood.

It was slow going as they picked their way cross country. The terrain was hard on the horses. One minute they were climbing, the next descending, and although the slopes were not steep, the horses had been ridden hard for days now. By the time darkness fell, and with it the temperature, even some of the magnificent Hythrun horses, renowned for their stamina, were stumbling. Tarja called a halt and ordered them to make camp, but refused to allow any fires. The chance of being spotted by a Defender scout was too real to be ignored.

Tarja hobbled his mount and finally got around to eating something long after dark, although hard cheese and jerky barely counted as a meal. He had been spoilt, he decided, living on the border. There was a time when he didn’t mind trail rations. Had he been tougher then—or just less discerning, he wondered?

“Tarja?”

He turned, a little surprised to find Adrina weaving her way among the picketed horses toward him. Her breath frosted in the moonlight and she held her borrowed jacket tightly closed against the cold.

“I thought you’d be asleep by now.”

“Sleep?” she laughed humourlessly. “That’s a joke. Who can sleep with a thousand Defenders over the next hill and the Kariens riding us down?”

“You need to rest, then, even if you can’t sleep. The last few days are going to seem like a picnic compared to what lies ahead.”

She reached up and patted Shadow’s forelock. The mare nuzzled her hopefully for a moment then returned to her feedbag when she decided the princess had nothing better to offer.

“Can I ask you something, Tarja?”

“I suppose.”

“If I wasn’t here, you wouldn’t be doing this, would you?”

She knew the answer as well as he did. He wondered what was really behind the question.

“Cratyn probably wouldn’t be on our tail, but we’d still be hiding from the Defenders. You can’t blame yourself for that.”

She smiled. “Actually, I’m a little surprised at myself. Taking the blame for things is not my style. I’ve never been known for my selflessness.”

Tarja found that very easy to believe.

“I keep thinking I should just go back to Cratyn and be damned.”

“What good would that do?” He hoped he hadn’t let his astonishment show. Such an offer from Adrina verged on the miraculous.

“R’shiel is missing, Tarja. You should be helping her, not saving me from my own stupidity.” She smiled self-consciously, as if she was startled to have made such an admission. “I have a feeling that the demon child is more important in the general scheme of things than one disgruntled princess.”

“She’s right, Tarja.”

Brak appeared out of nowhere a pace behind Adrina. The princess spun around, startled by the unexpected voice. A thousand questions leapt to Tarja’s mind at the sight of him, but one question overrode every other, even his astonishment at Brak’s sudden return:

“Where is R’shiel?”

“Closer than you think,” Brak replied, then he bowed to Adrina. “You must be Hablet’s girl. Adrina, isn’t it? The one who married Cratyn?”

“Who are you?” she demanded. “Tarja? Who is he?”

“Brakandaran,” Tarja told her, fighting to keep an even temper.
What in the name of the Founders had happened to R’shiel? How did Brak get here?
“He’s Harshini. He was supposed to be looking after R’shiel.”

“You can’t blame Brak, Tarja, it wasn’t his fault.”

Tarja started at the new voice and turned to find Dace standing behind him. The God of Thieves was grinning broadly, rather pleased with the effect of his dramatic entrance.

“What are
you
doing here?”

“You know, most people would prostrate themselves when confronted with a god,” Dace pointed out, a little miffed at Tarja’s less-than-enthusiastic reception.

“I’m not ‘most people’. What happened to R’shiel?”

“That’s a
god
?” Adrina asked. She looked awestruck, but then, she was a pagan. Being confronted with one of her gods probably meant a great deal more to her than it meant to him.

“Unfortunately, yes. This is Dacendaran. He’s supposed to be the God of Thieves, I think. Personally, I think he’s the God of Unreliable Fools.”

“Don’t be absurd, Tarja, there’s no such entity. If you’re going to be like that, then I won’t help you.”

“That’s an empty threat under the circumstances,” Brak remarked.

“But he can’t be a god,” Adrina scoffed. “I’ve seen him in the Defenders’ camp. He was hanging around with Mikel.”

“My newest and most fervent…no actually, he’s more like a
reluctant
disciple.”

“Brak, what the hell is going on?”

He held up his hand wearily to stay Tarja’s avalanche of questions. “Look, I know I have a lot of explaining to do, and I will, I promise. But let’s find Damin first. I don’t want to have to go over this more than once.”