Medalon

have a lot to learn before dawn. Let us begin.”

By morning, the only thing R’shiel was certain of was that she would never be able to control the Harshini magic. Shananara had taught her how to touch it. Once she identified it for what it was it had been frighteningly easy to reach in, open the door in her mind, and dip into the power that lay within her. The same sweet power that had filled her the night she had attacked Loclon was waiting for her, poised to explode as soon as she opened herself to it. Her first attempt had left her almost unconscious, frightened to try again. Shananara demanded she continue, and as the long night progressed she had learned, quite painfully at times, to reach in, touch the power, and then withdraw from it, closing the door behind her. She met with varying degrees of success, ranging from a minor shiver that ran down her spine as she sensed, but could not quite grasp, the power, to a vast explosion that had destroyed the remains of the Karien vessel. Had it not been for Shananara’s vigilance in turning the power toward a place where it would do no harm, she could have easily destroyed the Maera’s Daughter. The Fardohnyans, Tarja, Ghari, and Brak had spent a nervous night, wondering where her uncontrollable magic would strike next. Even the demons retreated to a safe distance as Shananara forced R’shiel, repeatedly, to touch the source and then withdraw.

It was almost light when Shananara finally conceded that she had done all she could in the time available. R’shiel felt wrung out like an old wet sheet. Her hair was damp with sweat, her body aching in every limb. Shananara looked little better. Brak seemed to sense that they were done and walked up the knoll toward them. R’shiel was shaking all over.

“I hope you don’t have to rely on your power to convince those rebels,” he said. “It would be defeating the whole purpose of your journey if you blow them all into the lowest of the Seven Hells, trying to prove you’re the demon child.”

R’shiel did not have the energy to come up with a suitable retort, so she let the remark pass. Besides, Brak was right. The power she felt might be strong, but she had no idea what to do with it. She could not weave a glamor to hide herself, as Brak had done, or aim her power the way Shananara had been able to. All she could do was reach for it and hope for the best.

Shananara climbed to her feet and held out her hand to help R’shiel up. R’shiel dusted off her leathers and turned toward the boat, but Shananara called her back.

“R’shiel, there is something else you must be aware of.”

She nodded wearily, wondering if her mind could take in anymore after the tiring night she had already endured.

“What’s that?”

“Be careful of the attachments you form with humans.”

Puzzled by the seemingly irrelevant advice, R’shiel shrugged. “I don’t understand. What attachments? Do you mean my friends?”

Shananara exchanged a glance with Brak before she nodded. “Yes, with your friends. You are Harshini, R’shiel. You are not really human. Not completely. I don’t wish to see you hurt by forming... attachments to humans who cannot ever truly understand us.”

Not sure what her cousin meant, R’shiel had the strangest feeling that she would not like the answer if she pressed for an explanation. “I’ll be careful,” she promised.

“If only I thought you would,” Shananara sighed, then let the matter drop.

Tarja and Ghari were waiting for them at the boat. The Fardohnyans were already aboard, preparing to cast off. She looked around for the demons and discovered Dranymire alighting with remarkable grace in the shape of an eagle, near the riverbank. She shook off Brak’s arm and walked cautiously toward the demon, who assumed his true from as she approached.

“I have to say good-bye now.”

“Farewell then, Princess,” Dranymire rumbled.

She reached down and scratched him above the wrinkled ridge over his huge, intelligent eyes, instinctively knowing where he would like it most. He almost purred.

“If you call, we will come, whatever the reason,” Dranymire assured her. “As we did for your father.”

R’shiel smiled at the demon’s insistence that she was Lorandranek’s child. She was only reluctantly willing to concede that she was Harshini, but the rest of it was still too unreal.

“Did you really know my father?”

“Yes. And your mother, too. Lorandranek found her wandering in the mountains,” Dranymire said, as if he understood her need to know. “She was very young. Younger than you are now. Your father was enchanted by her.”

“Did he love her?”

“Very much,” Dranymire assured her. “But he was the Harshini King. He died before he had a chance to know you. He wanted you very much.”

R’shiel nodded, still not certain she accepted any of this, but a little less apprehensive than she had been. “Thank you,” she said, bending down to kiss the demon’s wrinkled cheek. She turned and ran back toward the boat. A small chasm of uncertainty in her mind had finally been filled.

R’shiel finally knew who she was.

chapter 55

Shananara came to stand beside her demon as the Fardohnyan boat pushed off and was caught by the current, before they could hoist the sails and turn the boat to take them up river. She idly stroked his wrinkled head as she watched them, returning R’shiel’s wave.

“I heard what you said to her,” she told the demon, as the boat caught the wind and began to move upstream. Brak headed back from the shore toward them, a trail of gray demons in his wake.

“Did you?” the demon asked, feigning boredom.

“You lied to her.”

“I told her what she needed to hear, Shananara,” Dranymire corrected, loftily. “That is not the same as lying.”

“It’s a very fine distinction. Why didn’t you tell her the truth?”

“Much of what I told her was the truth. The gods asked Lorandranek to create the demon child. It therefore follows that he wanted her.”

“Lorandranek tried to destroy her when she was still in the womb, Lord Dranymire,” Brak pointed out as he came to stand beside them.

“He was driven mad by what the gods asked of him,” Shananara reminded him, placing a sympathetic hand on his shoulder. “You must not continue to punish yourself, Brakandaran.”

“He was still my king. Even an insane king deserves better than that.”

“Lorandranek was a great king,” Dranymire insisted stubbornly.

“Of course he was,” the Princess said. “You must agree though, Dranymire, he spent more time trying to escape his responsibilities as king than he ever did ruling Sanctuary. And you were his willing accomplice, I might add. One noble deed does not alter that. Thanks to my uncle’s madness, Korandellen was king in all but name for a long time before he inherited the crown.”

“To you perhaps, Lorandranek was less than perfect, but to R’shiel he is the father who would have loved her. Would you have me hurt the child more than she has been already?”

Shananara smiled at the demon. “Of course not. I just never realized until now that you’re nothing but a romantic sentimentalist.”

The demon snorted indignantly. “I am nothing of the sort! Continue to insult me in such a manner, Your Highness, and you can walk back to Sanctuary.”

Shananara laughed and then turned to Brak. “And you, Brakandaran? Will you finally come home now? You have found the demon child for us. Your task is done.”