“You found him,” a musical voice said behind him as Tarja tore his eyes away from the curious gaze of the dragon.
“Of course,” the beast replied, as if there had never been any doubt regarding the outcome. Tarja looked over his shoulder. The woman who walked toward him was of the same tall and slender proportions as R’shiel, dressed in dark, close-fitting riding leathers that covered her like a second skin. The dragon moved his massive head forward to greet her, and she gently reached up and scratched the bony ridge over his huge eye. Her eyes were as black as midnight.
“You must be Tarja. My name is Shananara,” she said by way of introduction. “This is Lord Dranymire and his brethren.”
“His brethren?” He had not yet recovered from the shock of being confronted by a dragon, but he was certain there was only one creature standing before him.
“Dragons don’t really exist, Tarja. This beast is simply a demon meld.” She turned to the dragon. “You frightened him. I asked you to be careful.”
“He’s human. They jump at their own shadows.”
Shananara shrugged apologetically. “He’s not been around humans much lately. You’ll have to excuse him. Where is the child R’shiel?”
“R’shiel?” Tarja asked. “I don’t know. They rode off with her in the middle of the night. I think they plan to hand her over to the Kariens.”
Shananara’s expression clouded. She turned to the dragon. “Can you feel her at all?”
“We have felt little since early this morning when we felt her pain.”
“What does he mean?” Tarja asked, forgetting for a moment that he was talking to a dragon and a Harshini magician, two things that only a few days ago he thought were long extinct from his world. “What pain?”
“She might have done something. She’s already proved she has considerable power, particularly for a wildling; she just doesn’t know how to control it. Or...”
“Or what?” The Harshini was not telling him everything. For that matter, she was not telling him anything. What had happened to the rebels?
“If you say she has been given to the Kariens, then the pain may have been caused by a Karien priest,” the dragon informed him. “Unfortunately, we can only tell that she suffers. Not how.”
Tarja needed no further prompting. He turned for the farmhouse at run, his only thought to find a way to follow R’shiel. Shananara called after him. He ignored her. A thunderous rush of wind almost flattened him as he neared the farmhouse. The dragon landed, blocking his path. Tarja skidded to a halt. The beast was taller than a two-story building, and the span of his coppery wings was almost too wide for Tarja to comprehend. The dragon stared at him disdainfully.
“Human manners have not improved in the last few hundred years.”
Shananara caught up to them and grabbed Tarja’s arm, pulling him around to face her. “What are you doing?”
“I’m going to find R’shiel. The Kariens have her.”
“You don’t know that for certain. And even if they do have her, you have no idea where she is or how to find her.”
“Then what do you suggest I do?” he snapped, intensely annoyed as he realized that she was right. He had no idea where Padric had taken R’shiel. All Tarja knew at that moment was that he had to find her and that he would happily murder Padric himself, if any harm had come to her.
The Harshini studied him. “Is she a particular friend of yours?”
“What do you mean?” he asked.
Shananara frowned, as if she knew something Tarja was not privy to. “Oh, nothing. Let’s wake up one of your rebel friends and ask him where they took her, shall we?”
Shananara led him back to the yard of the farmhouse. The dragon followed, his huge tail leaving a trail as wide as a narrow road in the dirt behind him. The dozen or so rebels who had been planning to hang him lay still on the ground, the noose waving gently in the breeze like a child’s swing. Tarja looked away from the uncomfortable reminder of his close brush with death and glanced about him with growing dread.
“Did you kill them?”
The Harshini rolled her eyes with exasperation. “No! Of course I didn’t kill them! What do you take me for? They’re asleep. Which one should we wake?”
Tarja looked around, but he could not see Ghari among the unconscious rebels. He led Shananara into the farmhouse and found the young man lying in the doorway, his face still bloodied and bruised from Tarja’s attack.
“What happened to him?” she asked.
“I hit him. I was trying to escape.”
She knelt down beside the unconscious rebel. “And these people were friends of yours? I wonder what you do to people you don’t like?”
“Just wake him up. Ghari will know where Padric took R’shiel.”
Shananara gently placed her hand on Ghari’s forehead, closing her eyes. Tarja watched expectantly, but he felt nothing. Ghari’s eyes fluttered open. He looked at them blankly for a moment before jerking backward in fear at the sight of the black-eyed Harshini woman leaning over him.
“Don’t be afraid,” Shananara said.
Tarja didn’t know if there was any magic in her musical voice, but the young rebel visibly relaxed as she spoke. He turned his gaze on Tarja before cautiously climbing to his feet. They stood back to give him room.
“What happened?” he asked, gingerly touching his broken nose.
“I escaped,” Tarja told him. “And the Harshini came looking for R’shiel.”
Ghari stared at the woman. “They really do exist?”
“Yes, they really do,” Tarja agreed. Every moment they wasted R’shiel was getting further away. “And the Karien Envoy will kill R’shiel as soon as he learns what she is. Where did Padric take her?”
Ghari’s eyes narrowed. “Why should I tell you anything?”
Tarja’s first impatient reaction was to beat the truth out of Ghari, but, as if she knew what he was planning, Shananara stepped between the two humans.
“Now, now, children. There is no need for any unpleasantness. Where did they take her, Ghari?”
The young rebel found his gaze locked with the Harshini’s. “To a jetty about eight leagues south of here. The Karien Envoy was to meet them there.”
She released the thrall on Ghari and turned to Tarja. “There! That was painless, wasn’t it?”
Tarja did a few rapid calculations in his head. The results were not encouraging. “She’s long gone, then. They would have handed her over just after dawn.”
“About the same time the demons felt her pain,” Shananara agreed. “I’m sorry, Tarja.”
“What do you mean, you’re sorry? Aren’t you going after her?”
“Tarja, we risked much coming this far. The demons can only assume a shape as complex as a dragon for a limited time, even with hundreds in the meld. I can’t risk taking them so far from Sanctuary. If the meld weakened and we were airborne at the time...” Her voice trailed off helplessly.
Tarja was sure that he would have been quite sympathetic to her plight had he the faintest idea what she was talking about.
“Can’t you do something?” he asked.
“I can,” she conceded, “but a Karien priest would see right through it. And not for you or R’shiel or the King of the Harshini, will I risk my demons being seen by a Karien priest. I’m sorry.”
“Then what do we do?” Tarja refused to give in so easily. He could not, would not, leave R’shiel in the hands of the Kariens. Not if there was the slightest chance he could save her. He owed her that much at least.
“Find a boat, I suppose,” she suggested. “I don’t know much about them, but I imagine there are faster boats on the river than the Karien Envoy’s. Shipbuilding was never a strength of the Kariens. Maybe you can catch up with them.”
“And then what? Suppose I get her back? Will you help then?”
“Do you know what you’re doing, Tarja?” she asked. “Do you know the pain that comes from loving a Harshini?”
