Guardian Queen: Epic Fantasy Romance (Hardstorm Saga Book 3) Page 12

  The assassin immediately drew back, looking everywhere but at the two of us. His face darkened a shade, as if he was blushing under all that blue ink. “Forgive me, my lord. My lady.”

  While I wondered whether assassins blushed, Batumar stepped toward him. “Where have you been?”

  “In the galley.” Urdy inched back and cast a nervous glance toward the other storage room where Ina and her daughter Nessa hid from the world. “The little one was hungry. I could hear her crying through the wall. I went to ask the cook for a biscuit.”

  My gaze dropped to his empty hands as I came up behind Batumar. “Did you find anything?”

  “Yes, my lady. I brought her two apples. I stayed awhile. All the battle noise scared the girl.”

  The fighting abovedecks must have scared Ina too. The mother and child had been through a bloody battle on Rabeen and seen their entire island demolished. They must have found the day’s violence—and the chance that we might lose—terrifying.

  I glanced toward their door. I wanted to go to them, but we could not keep the Shahala delegation waiting without giving offense.

  “Maybe you could return to them and entertain Nessa with a couple of tales,” I suggested to Urdy. “Of happier times,” I quickly added.

  Urdy cast me a dubious look, and it occurred to me that having been raised at a school for assassins, he might not have seen a lot of happy times. Nor could he talk to the girl about his work.

  “Do you remember any of your mother’s stories?”

  “Vaguely.” He scratched his chin. “I remember one about a three-legged rabbit and a fox who could sing.”

  “Sounds perfect for Nessa.”

  Urdy cast a worried glance toward Batumar. “With your permission, my lord?”

  The warlord nodded, and then off we went, leaving Urdy to his task.

  I braided my damp hair as we walked off the ship. Batumar walked with the sure steps of a warlord, his heavy boots thundering on the plank. I followed with more measured steps, careful not to trip on the hem of my most regal dress—red sateen edged in gold, one of a dozen garments the merchants of Uramit gifted me with for liberating their city. Red and gold were the colors of the House of Batumar.

  When I finished with my hair, I searched the harbor. “Do you see Marga?”

  “The last I saw her, she was off with the Selorm battle tigers.”

  “Let us hope she stays there. If she returns to the ship, she might scare Ina and her daughter.” I was glad Urdy was with them.

  Men passed us, carrying the dead—both ours and the enemy’s. I was so preoccupied with thoughts of meeting the Shahala Elders, some time passed before I realized the dead were being carried onto the Barmorid, the Kadar warship we had retaken from the Kerghi.

  I stopped.

  Batumar stopped with me and followed my gaze. “We will send them out to sea, then set the ship on fire.”

  “Why not send them on the Shield? Our sails are damaged.” So was the deck and the railing, although that damage was mostly surface charring.

  “The Shield is still seaworthy.” Batumar glanced back at our flagship. “Now that we are in port, the sails can be replaced. Our Landrian sailors know their own ship, but not the Kadar warship. In a battle, their knowledge of the ship might make all the difference. Now is not the time to switch.”

  When his attention returned to the Barmorid, it lingered. But then he turned fully away from the water and toward the city. “War is full of sacrifices. Once we win the war, we can rebuild the Kadar navy.”

  We began to walk again. More lifeless bodies were carried past us, making me think of Rabeen and the dead we had left behind there without a proper funeral. Once an island of merchants, now an island of vultures. I thought of the dark presence at the temple ruins at Rabeen’s cliffs. A cold shiver ran up my spine, as if that presence reached out and drew a talon over my skin.

  “We do not have enough sailors to man a fourth ship.” Batumar kept talking. “Nor can we allow the Barmorid to fall back into enemy hands. We will face more battles up north. I would not want the Barmorid to reappear behind us under enemy control once again.”

  I caught the regret in his tone. The last time he had been on Dahru, he had been the High Lord of the Kadar, with the Kadar fleet under his command.

  So much had changed in so little a time. For a moment, I could not catch my breath. The stakes were so high. With only three ships and fewer than five hundred men, were we equal to the challenge before us?

  We were not alone in this, I reminded myself. We were in Sheharree. My people the Shahala would join up with us. We would leave the harbor stronger than we were when we had reached it this morning.

  I cast a last glance at the Barmorid.

  For a moment, looking at my father’s name on the side of the ship, he felt more real to me. And for that moment, I felt the same regret that I had caught in Batumar’s tone. Yet I understood that, as he had said, the ship was only one of the many sacrifices we would have to make.

  “Sometimes I forget that I am half Kadar,” I told Batumar. In my heart and mind, I was a Shahala healer, nothing more, nothing less, the only thing I had ever wanted to be.

  The warlord claimed my hand. “As long as you do not forget that you are wholly mine.”

  * * *

  Prince Graho and Lord Karnagh waited for us at the entrance to the harbor, the two in quiet discussion.

  The prince wore his best royal garment. I had not seen him come onto the ship. His guards must have brought his clothes to him to save him the walk.

  Lord Karnagh too had changed, into clean britches and a green velvet doublet embroidered with Selorm battle scenes and tigers. The empty sleeve hanging by his side did not make him any less dashing.

  Only Tomron was missing. He would not join us until he’d fully secured the harbor. He was most thorough with his duties.

  Lord Karnagh saw us coming first and offered a look of apology. “We had the youth who claims to be a Guardian, but he disappeared. Everyone who saw him and can identify him is out searching for the man.”

  I swallowed my frustration while he added, “We will find him, my lady.”

  I had no time to explain how important the Guardian was to our cause, for the Shahala delegation arrived and stopped to wait for us on top of the wide stone steps that separated the harbor from the city proper.

  Like ancient statues they were in their long white robes that barely moved in the wind. The only difference between their garments and those of other Shahala men was the wide strip of red embroidery around the neck of the Elders’ robes. The embroidery showed the sacred symbols of our people—representing each of the nine original tribes.

  The men all had long white beards that rustled with each gust. The women too were old, grandmothers many times over. They inclined their heads without smiles.

  Surprise slowed my feet. In the Elders’ stiff stances and even stiffer expressions, I detected a range of emotions—from resentment to outright anger. I had expected a warm welcome and gratitude for the liberation of the port city. I had expected offers of food and accommodation for our army.

  I was still frowning when we stopped at the bottom of the wide staircase and returned their bow. The harbor’s famous ninety-nine limestone steps stood between us as each group measured up the other.

  At least two hundred townspeople turned out to watch the proceedings, gathering behind the Elders. As my gaze slid over them, the familiar features of one of the men caught my attention.

  Despite the short beard that was a shade darker than his blond hair, recognition flared. “Koro!”

  In but a blink of an eye, countless memories flew back to me: long talks, longer walks, climbing trees together on the hillside.

  Koro’s eyes widened. The delegation waited with decorum, projecting an air of authority, but Koro broke away from the spectators and skirted around the Elders before descending the steps at a run, his arms opening as a stunned smile split his face. “Tera? Tera
!”

  He shook his head in wonder as he reached me, then laughed as he picked me up and swung me around. I had to brace myself on his shoulders, laughing with him. Here was my childhood friend, alive and well.

  He set me down at last but kept staring at me, searching my face. He held me tightly by the arms, as if to make sure I was real. “Tera, it is you. Thank the spirits!”

  He was far from the boy I had left behind. He was a grown man, a large man, handsome, his brown eyes dancing as he looked me over.

  “Are you well? Your family?” I asked. His father had been one of the richest merchants in the city. “Your ships are not in the harbor.”

  Koro’s face clouded. “All lost. The Kerghi took everything of value. They killed my parents when my father would not surrender the keys to his warehouses. I escaped because the healers hid me as one of their own. I have been pretending to be a healer’s apprentice since.”

  I reached for his hand—as I had done countless times in our childhood—and squeezed it. “I am truly sorry.”

  I was saddened by the news and yet overjoyed at seeing Koro once again. A moment passed before I noticed the shadow that fell over us. Batumar.

  The warlord uttered not a single word, yet somehow that silence was more threatening than his tiger growls. I pulled back. Koro reached after me, oblivious to danger, his gaze riveted to my face. Batumar shifted closer.

  Oh, for the spirits’ sake!

  As I tried to think of what to say to defuse this new—and most unnecessary—tension, Prince Graho stepped in, clasping Koro’s arm and pulling him away from me, introducing himself. “Prince Graho of Landria.”

  Koro inclined his head. “Koro, my lord.”

  “Lord Batumar and his Lady Tera,” the prince nodded toward us.

  Koro kept smiling as wide as would fit on his face. “I know Tera well. She and I were intended.” His gaze found me again. “I held on to your bride price long after you disappeared. But that too was taken by the Kerghi. I never forgot you. Not for a day.”

  Batumar held still, the way Marga held still before pouncing on her prey.

  Prince Graho put an arm around Koro’s shoulders and smoothly drew Koro back up the stairs with “I hope there is a meal prepared. We are all famished. Even on the other side of the world, I have heard tales of Shahala hospitality.”

  Lord Karnagh went with them, walking on Koro’s other side, glancing back at Batumar with humor glinting in his eyes.

  Batumar’s gaze followed them for a while before he turned to me. He offered me his arm. He walked up the steps with me, but his eyes said he wished to return me to the ship.

  We did not get far before Koro realized he was getting ahead of us, and he turned around, taking a few steps back. “Tera, I barely dared hope to see you again. I know it has been a long time since we were intended for each other, but…” He swallowed, his eyes misting over.

  When he looked as if he might embrace me again, Lord Karnagh nudged him forward. “Best keep your distance, young man. She is more dangerous than she used to be. She broke my bones, she did.”

  Prince Graho, never to be outdone, added, “She cut off my…” He flashed a look loaded with meaning.

  He kept talking into Koro’s ear until they reached the Elders. Koro glanced back at me again, this time with impossibly wide eyes.

  I bit back a tired laugh.

  Batumar was less than amused. “Who is the ill-mannered pup?”

  “An old friend. He is a good man. A kind man.”

  “As long as he knows if he calls you his intended one more time, I intend to cut him in half.”

  Before I could talk Batumar out of murder, Marga and Tigran came bounding up to us, sniffing toward the strangers. The tigers must have caught plenty of fish in the shallows. Their bellies were near dragging on the steps. In addition to filling up, fishing had also washed the blood from their fur, for which I was grateful.

  I patted Marga’s shoulder. “Thank you for your help in battle.”

  I could swear her maw stretched into a satisfied smile.

  The Shahala did not draw back in fear as we approached bracketed by two tigers. My people had an affinity for animals, and an understanding of them. They merely kept a deferential distance.

  The Elders bowed once again as we reached them.

  Batumar inclined his head. Prince Graho returned the bow in measure. So did Lord Karnagh.

  I bowed the deepest, to show proper respect. “May the spirits heap their blessings upon you and upon your people.”

  “The spirits favored us greatly by bringing you.” They greeted us as was customary for a traveler. “May they watch over you every step of your journey.”

  Their words were as sweet to my ears as honey drizzled over breakfast cakes. I smiled at the pure pleasure of hearing the language of my childhood. Home. I was truly home at last.

  Gormil, who had often sought my mother for advice on rare injuries, stepped forward. His face crinkled with the many lines that marked his age. “Blessed be the spirits for your return, granddaughter. We feared you perished.”

  His words were welcoming, yet his tone sounded reserved. Was he troubled over our losses? We had been prepared for worse. We had been through worse. But I would have time over our meal to recount the tale of our long journey. For now, I said, “Blessed be the spirits for protecting Sheharree and her people.”

  The wrinkled faces before us clouded.

  “All could not be protected,” Gormil said, then forced a more polite expression once again. “Come eat with us and rest, and tell us all you can, for we are eager to hear how you have come to be at our shores and why.”

  Yet his tone did not warm. I glanced at Batumar. If he noticed anything amiss, he did not show any sign. I followed his example and asked no questions.

  The delegation led us to the Square of Gathering, where even more people waited. Our warriors drew many curious glances. Yet, oddly, the mood of the crowd was less than celebratory.

  The towns we had liberated on the mainland always greeted us with cheers. I was embarrassed that my people did not, for I knew how much our soldiers had sacrificed to be here.

  Koro turned back to me with another wide smile. “Tera, do you think—”

  Prince Graho and Lord Karnagh distracted him. Then, before he could speak to me again, we reached the House of the Elders.

  The House of the Elders, in the middle of the Square of Gathering, had but one room, large and round. The Elders held meetings, resolved disputes, and dispensed advice here.

  People crowded into the room behind us. The space stood open to all, at all times. Such was the way of the Shahala. We did not need inner chambers and secret rooms. My people preferred to do all things in the open.

  We sat at the Elders’ table in the middle, the wood worn from centuries of use, the cut a round center slice from a numaba tree, as thick as a man’s wrist and richly carved with blessings. Koro did not sit with us, but stood with the crowd.

  The nine carved doors that represented the nine Shahala tribes allowed in a cross breeze that carried the familiar scents of my childhood. The south end of the island had myriad flowers that grew nowhere else but here, their sweet aroma underscored by the faint, salty scents of the nearby sea.

  The flat pebbles of the floor came from the quarry in the woods where, a lifetime ago, Koro and I had often played. The white columns that held up the round roof had been carved out of the limestone of the very hillside that protected my childhood home from the desert winds.

  Everywhere I turned, every detail whispered home. Yet I could not sink into the comfort of the thought.

  Men and women gathered around us. Some I recognized by sight if not by name. A few stared; others avoided my gaze. I knew some of my people had disapproved when they had heard that I, daughter of Chalee, Tika Shahala—the highest order of healers—had become the Kadar High Lord’s concubine, but after the siege of Karamur where the Shahala had helped the Kadar, I thought the old resentme
nts of our people had disappeared. Yet I could feel tension in the air.

  “I fear all will not go here as we expected,” I whispered to Batumar under my breath.

  Chapter Fourteen

  (Seeking Alliance)

  “How do the Shahala fare?” Batumar, sitting on my right, asked the Elders, and the room around us quieted.

  Gormil answered, his tone measured, almost ceremonial. “As you know, my lord, when at first the Kerghi came through our island’s Gate, we lost a great many of our number. But even more of us found shelter and safety in Kadar strongholds, for which our nation is most grateful to yours.”

  Batumar nodded. “Yet you left the protection of our walls. You would have been welcome to stay.”

  Gormil’s posture stiffened. “Once the siege of Karamur was over, we thought the most severe threat to our lands ended. Our people wished to return home, where the spirits of our ancestors live.”

  “And ignore the five hundred enemy soldiers barricaded around the Gate?” Batumar’s voice held no censure, only puzzlement. He was a military leader with a military mind.

  “Aye, my lord. We thought the enemy would remain behind their makeshift fortification until spring, and then the Kadar would march up the mountain and defeat them.”

  The muscles in Batumar’s face tensed. “We did not have the numbers.” He paused before he asked, “Have you news of the far outposts on the edge of the desert?”

  He was asking after his daughters. I held my breath for the answer.

  A puzzled frown pulled Gormil’s gray eyebrows together. “Those are in Kadar territory. We know little of them.”

  Batumar showed none of his disappointment but moved on to a question to which Gormil would more likely know the answer. “How many Kerghi soldiers sailed on the Barmorid?”

  “Two hundred or thereabout.” The Elder fell silent. His cheeks, papery from old age, flushed. He shifted. “You must think the number none too great, but they were trained fighters, well armed. Our people could not stand against them. Those who resisted were cut down. Some ran into the forests and hid. A great many surrendered. We believe in the preservation of life above all.”