Sanctuary (27 page)

Yet... she heard a soft tapping at the glass doors.

She came to her feet, heart racing. She did not believe in the weeping woman. It had to be a prank, but she didn’t see how...

More tapping.

Heart in her mouth, Jaraile watched the door handle turn.

Locked... thank goodness.

And a shade did not need to come through doors.

Still, every sense was on alert as she strode to the balcony doors and thrust back the curtains.

A beautiful T’En stood there. For a heartbeat, she thought it
was
the weeping woman; then she realised it was a youth, and he wanted her to let him in.

Fighting a dreamlike sense of unreality, she opened the balcony door.

Instead of stepping into the chamber, the warrior caught her arm and tried to draw her out onto the balcony. She resisted until she heard Sorne’s voice.

‘Jaraile, it’s all right. He’s a friend.’

She looked around, until she spotted Sorne’s head hanging over the roof above her. ‘For goodness sake, get down from there. You’ll fall to your death.’

He laughed, softly. ‘We’ve come to save you. This is Iraayel.’

She put her hands on her hips. ‘If you think I’m climbing up there –’

‘No. We wouldn’t dream of it,’ Sorne said. ‘Jaraile, the Wyrds didn’t hurt Cedon. He’s –’

‘I know. I overheard Eskarnor speaking with one of his men. You’ve seen Cedon?’

‘I held him in my arms and he asked after you.’

Her chest ached; she had to swallow before she could speak. ‘Where is he? Is he safe?’

‘As safe as any of us. I have him hidden, and you’ll see him soon. Just do as Iraayel says. I’m going back to the others.’

Then he disappeared.

‘Where are the others?’ She turned to the youth.

‘At the end of the corridor. They can’t get close to the guards without them sounding the alarm,’ he said. ‘If you call the guards in, I’ll deal with them.’

Her mind raced. Now that she was up close, she could see he was just a boy. The guards were veterans, and the hallway was so long they’d cut Iraayel to shreds before the rest of his party could come to his aid. Then the commotion would alert her captors. Somehow she had to distract the guards, and had to buy enough time for Sorne and the others to reach the chamber and overcome them...

‘I have a better idea.’

She led him into her bedchamber, opened a chest and piled armfuls of beautiful silken pants, satin vests and brocade robes on the bed, speaking all the while. ‘The men-at-arms think there’s a T’En ghost, a beautiful young woman. If they think you’re the ghost, it will give Sorne and the others time to come up behind them and kill them silently.’

For a moment she thought he would object. A True-man would consider dressing up as a woman demeaning. But Iraayel gave this some consideration, then nodded. ‘They’ll be watching the guards. They should be here in no time.’

He began stripping.

Jaraile blushed and looked away.

‘What happened to your face?’ he asked. ‘Did the Mieren hurt –’

‘No, I scratched myself to convince them I was half-crazed with fear of the ghost.’

He smiled. ‘My choice-mother would like you.’

She blushed and helped him dress, finding ways to disguise his broad shoulders. Unravelling his long silver braid, she threaded jewels through his hair. Then she painted his lips and eyes, and stood back. ‘There. I know women who would envy you.’

‘What does this ghostly woman do?’

‘She weeps and searches for the man who murdered her, the night King Charald attacked the city.’

‘S
O, ARE YOU
going to kill me now, or after we get the queen out of the city?’ Tobazim asked, his heart racing, gift on edge. Graelen blinked. ‘Because I think it makes more sense to combine forces and defeat Kyredeon.’

‘You can’t beat Kyredeon. His gift is more powerful than yours and yours is not a martial gift. You and Ardonyx are not shield-brothers, like –’

‘We could be. You can’t tell me you give Kyredeon your loyalty because you admire him.’ Tobazim took a step closer, feigning a confidence he did not feel.

Graelen could easily snatch his essence, drag him to the empyrean plane, wound him and leave him for the predators. But he didn’t. He listened, even as his gift readiness pounded on Tobazim’s senses.

‘Do you really want to spend the rest of your life serving Kyredeon? He’s half crazed with fear now. It’s only a matter of time before his gift corrupts.’ He saw Graelen’s eyes widen and knew he’d hit a nerve. ‘The brotherhood will rise up against him. They’ll kill all of his supporters. They’ll kill Valendia.’

‘Leave her out of this.’

‘I will. But Kyredeon won’t. He’s holding her life as surety of your cooperation, isn’t he?’

‘Yes. But you can’t win a challenge.’

‘We won’t know unless I challenge. When I get back –’

‘
If
you get back.’

‘I will have to challenge Kyredeon, because you will either be dead, which means that I know he sent you to kill me, or you’ll be by my side, which means he’ll know you’ve sworn to support our faction.’

‘There’s a third alternative. I go back without you and everything returns to normal.’

A cry for help made them turn.

Sorne came running down the corridor towards them. He skidded to the corner, glanced up the passage and swore. ‘Quick. Iraayel needs help.’

J
ARAILE PUT THE
lamp on the floor behind the table and positioned Iraayel so that the light illuminated him from below, glinting on the jewels in his hair.

‘You ready?’ she whispered.

He nodded.

She ran to the door, thumping on the panels. ‘She’s here! She’s come for me! Let me out!’

The guards opened the door and she tried to get past them, but they blocked the doorway, standing slack-jawed in awe.

She glanced over her shoulder. A glowing radiance clung to Iraayel’s skin. He lifted his hands beseechingly, eyes shimmering with tears. He really was very good.

Jaraile peered down the hall, but didn’t see the others coming. They were supposed to be watching. She raised her voice. ‘Help!’

The unlucky guard’s eyes narrowed and he drew his sword. ‘Let’s see if she’ll bleed.’

Iraayel grinned as he drew his knife.

The other guard swore and charged. Jaraile snatched a statuette and swung it with all her strength as he went past. But he turned at the last moment and the statuette only caught him a glancing blow on the shoulder.

Cursing, he back-handed her. She went flying into the wall and the air was knocked out of her. She could only stare, gasping for breath as both guards attacked Iraayel. He blocked and backed away.

Two adult T’En warriors ran into the room, followed by Sorne. The first one one caught the unlucky guard from behind and snapped his neck. It happened so fast she barely had time to blink. As the second one reached for the other guard, Sorne appeared in front of her.

‘Jaraile, are you all right?’ He helped her to her feet.

She heard a scuffle, then nothing.

‘Don’t look.’ He led her into the bedchamber. ‘Grab some clothes suitable for travel.’

While she did this, he fetched a washcloth and wiped the blood from her face. He was just finishing when Iraayel came in. He stripped, dressed and bound his hair, while she rolled up her few things in a blanket. Sorne took her bundle. ‘Come, Jaraile.’

When they entered the main chamber, she glanced over at the dead guards. There was no sign of blood. ‘Throw them off the balcony.’

‘Why?’

‘The fall will disguise their injuries. Captain Pataxo’s men think a vengeful female shade haunts this palace. If I disappear from a locked room and it looks like the guards jumped off the balcony –’

‘It will confuse them, even if they don’t believe in the ghost,’ Sorne said.

G
RAELEN WAS PLEASED
with the way the rescue had gone – none of his people had been hurt, and they’d confounded the Mieren.

They made it out of the palace and down through the free quarter without any trouble. But as they stepped into the brotherhood quarter, they came face to face with a man holding a hooded lantern. He was accompanied by seven or eight Mieren, laden with chests and sacks. It was clear they had been looting the palaces.

Graelen’s gift surged. The Mieren stared in shock.

‘Tobazim, get the queen to the boat,’ Graelen ordered.

Stepping forward, he slammed the heads of two Mieren together and kicked the legs out from under another. As Iraayel took down a man, Graelen was aware of Tobazim running towards the ruined palace, with Sorne and the queen.

The fight was strangely quiet. The stunned Mieren hadn’t had time to react, and already several of their number were down. Graelen caught a man by the shoulders and used him as a shield, feeling the man jerk as his companion’s knife drove up under his ribs.

The others made no outcry. The penalty for looting must be steep.

A man grunted in pain as Iraayel elbowed him in the stomach. Someone collided with Graelen and he tripped, falling to his knees. A boot caught him in the head.

As Iraayel struggled with several assailants, the first two Mieren recovered and scrambled to their feet.

‘Grab the big Wyrd. Don’t let him get up,’ one of them said. Two men pinned Graelen, one on each arm. A third came in, knife drawn. He wasn’t going to get out of this.

Then one of the men holding Iraayel dropped. As he fell aside, Tobazim caught the other and spun him around, driving him head first into the wall and cracking his skull.

The men restraining Graelen turned to meet the new threat.

Soon all eight Mieren were dead.

Graelen cleaned his knife. ‘The queen?’

‘Sorne’s taken her in the boat,’ Tobazim said. ‘But I saw another one we can use.’

Iraayel was bent double. Graelen helped him up. ‘Can you walk?’

‘I... I think so.’

They returned to the boat-house, piled into a rowboat and closed the gate. By now it had begun to rain. A downpour drowned all sound and made the night dark as pitch, cloaking them as they rowed across the lake.

Wet through from the rain, they dragged the boat onto the bank.

‘I killed tonight. Their shades will come after me.’ Iraayel had to raise his voice to be heard above the drumming of the rain. ‘I don’t have the training –’

‘I’ll shield you,’ Tobazim said.

And Graelen knew Tobazim saw the lad as one of his brothers, his to protect. Just as an all-father should.

In that moment, he knew that he wasn’t going to kill Tobazim.

‘Come on.’ Graelen led them up the slope, heading for the horses.

S
ORNE COULDN’T SEE
his hand in front of his face. He followed the slope of the land and the faint smell of horses. A soft whicker greeted them as they drew close. He could sense roused male gift, laced with aggression, and that worried him. The three initiates had been back with the horses for a while now. Their gifts should be settled.

‘Where are the others, half-blood?’ It was one of the initiates and, clearly, he could see enough to make out that there were only two of them.

‘We were attacked. They sent us on ahead.’

The initiates let them pass. Sorne helped Jaraile onto her mount and tied her bundle onto the saddle, then mounted up and waited. He thought he caught whispering and had the feeling these three were up to something.

Then the gift aggression faded and he sensed he and the queen were alone with the horses.

Jaraile urged her mount close to his. ‘Are they going to be all right?’

Just then the rain started, drumming down around them and drowning all noise. Sorne felt uncomfortable. The longer he sat here, the more vulnerable they were. He had the queen, he should just go.

Instead he took the reins of Jaraile’s horse, turned his mount and went along the ridge a little, then downhill.

G
RAELEN WAS TIRED
. Every bone in his body ached. As he walked uphill in the cold rain, he felt every blow he’d taken tonight. He thought that one of his ribs was cracked and several teeth were certainly loose.

Only years of training helped him avoid the knife that came out of the dark. He blocked, sidestepped and caught his attacker’s arm. Skin on skin, he felt T’En power and knew the three initiates had been told to kill him. His instinct was to segue to the higher plane, but that would leave his body vulnerable here.

Someone collided with his back and he heard Tobazim curse as he struggled against an assailant.

He had no more time for thought as he fought in the rain, in the dark. He slipped in the mud and a blow went over his head. As he lurched to his feet, he shouldered his attacker in the stomach.

Someone kicked his knees from behind, and he went down. They caught his head by the hair.

A horse whinnied. Hooves flashed, thudding into his attacker, who grunted and collapsed.

He looked up to see someone dismount.

‘Grae, is that you?’ Sorne asked.

‘Quiet. There were three of them,’ Graelen warned. ‘I think we’ve only accounted for two.’

‘The third won’t be giving any trouble,’ Tobazim said.

‘Iraayel?’ Sorne called.

No answer.

Graelen spotted a pale face and felt it. Stubble on the jaw. Not Iraayel, then. Just as well, this one was dead. He found Iraayel next. The lad was unconscious, but breathing. They lifted him across Sorne’s horse.

Then they took the initiates’ arm-torcs and knives, and dragged their bodies to the lake, where they weighed them down and left them to sink. In the east, the sky was pale with the promise of dawn.

Now that the rain had ceased, it was fearfully cold. As Graelen waded back to the shore, there was just enough light to see the queen, huddled on her mount. Sorne had led their horses down to the shore; he handed them their reins.

Tobazim mounted up, then turned to Graelen. ‘You realise this means Kyredeon meant for us both to die.’

‘That, or Oriemn took it upon himself to make sure I didn’t get back. I hate to think what may happen to Valendia.’