Treason Keep

touched her shoulder, felt the muscle and skin knit beneath her hand.

Adrina stared in wonder for a moment, flexing her healed shoulder, then she frowned at R’shiel. “Thank you. Now, are you just going to stand there looking majestic, or are we going to help the others?”

“Where are they?”

“How should I know? Mikel!”

The boy edged his way past the bodies of Lord Terbolt and Prince Cratyn. Adrina caught his sleeve as he neared the entrance and pulled him to her, squatting down so that she was eye to eye with the terrified child.

“Do you know where they’re holding the others, Mikel?”

He nodded dumbly.

“Good. Then we shall go and rescue them. You needn’t be afraid. R’shiel is Harshini and she’ll protect us with her magic.” The boy began to cry. Adrina rolled her eyes, but she put her arms around him and hugged him gently. “There, there, Mikel. Don’t let it upset you.”

“But I’ve betrayed the Overlord. And my prince.”

“Yes, well, I wouldn’t lose too much sleep over that, child. You have Dacendaran to pray to now and Cratyn isn’t worth crying over. Now, are you going to help us or not?”

Mikel wiped his eyes and nodded.

“Good boy. Shall we go then?” She looked up at R’shiel questioningly.

“This could get messy,” she warned. “The priests can feel me now and I’m really not very good at this.”

Adrina looked around the tent and shrugged. “You seem to be doing just fine to me.”

They stepped out of the tent and into chaos. The priests rushed toward Terbolt’s tent clutching their magic- killing staffs, shouting conflicting orders to the Defenders. As R’shiel emerged into the sunlight with Adrina and Mikel, the priests halted their headlong rush. They stood before her cautiously, their lips moving silently as they prayed to their god.

Garanus stepped forward, holding his staff before him. The Defenders, for whom religion was a quaint foreign custom, stood back to give him room. They were curious, not alarmed. Two women and a child hardly warranted their attention and they had no idea what lay inside the Karien lord’s tent. The priests’ antics were more entertaining than threatening and they were reluctant allies at best.

“I call on the Overlord to strike you down, demon child!” Garanus chanted as he approached. He knew she was drawing on her power, his staff would have warned him, even if her eyes did not. “I call on Xaphista to vanquish your evil!”

“Vanquish?” Adrina muttered behind her. “Where do they come up with this nonsense? Do something about him R’shiel. We haven’t got time for this.”

Brave she might be, but Adrina certainly wasn’t blessed with patience in any great quantity.

Garanus was chanting loudly, in unison with the other priests. Her skin tingled as the magic they tried to raise washed over her. It was stronger than it should have been. Xaphista was lending them a hand.

Without warning a bolt of bright light exploded from the tip of Garanus’ staff. R’shiel raised her arm deflected the bolt with a thought. It landed with crash amidst the tents a few paces away, sending Defenders scurrying for safety. Another bolt followed it and then another. Xaphista wanted to destroy her. There was no question about that now. She had chosen sides and in His mind, chosen the wrong one.

I am the demon child, she told herself, and Xaphista has only a smattering of believers here. This battle, at least, I can win.

R’shiel deflected another blinding bolt of lightning and then pointed at the staff Garanus carried. It exploded in a burst of shattered gems, sending the few Defenders left standing diving for cover. The staffs of the other three priests behind him exploded almost immediately after.

She looked past them and discovered Brak, his eyes as black as hers, standing behind the priests. He nodded as she caught his eye, but made no move to aid her. R’shiel smiled briefly, then focused her disconcerting eyes on the Kariens.

“If you leave now, I will let you live. If you choose to stay, you will meet Xaphista a lot sooner than you expected.”

To his credit, Garanus hesitated. Without his staff he had no more power than any other mortal. He debated the issue for a moment or two then glanced over his shoulder at Brak. He might be brave enough to tackle one simple girl, but two Harshini filled with a power he was helpless to combat, was enough to sway him. He conceded defeat with ill grace.

“This is a temporary victory only, demon child. You cannot defeat the Overlord.”

“We’ll find that out some other day. Now go, before I change my mind.”

The priests fled as the Defenders emerged from their cover. Their faces ranged from confused to completely stunned. Others hurried to put out the scattered fires that she had started as she deflected the lightning. For weeks they had ridden under the command of Terbolt and his priests. R’shiel’s dismissal of them left them speechless. Brak walked toward her and treated her to a rare smile of approval.

“Where have you been?”

“I could ask you the same thing,” he replied.

Not all the Defenders were at a loss for words, however. A captain stepped forward, blocking their path, his sword drawn. R’shiel recognised him as Denjon, one of Tarja’s classmates when they were cadets.

“Where is Lord Terbolt, R’shiel?”

“In the tent with Cratyn,” Adrina answered for her, rather more cheerfully than the situation warranted. “You might want to take command now, Captain. Lord Terbolt is indisposed and it seems I’m a widow.”

The captain stared at them for a moment, then allowed himself a thin smile. “That’s tragic news, your Highness. You have my condolences.”

“Thank you, Captain, but don’t worry, I’m sure I’ll be able to deal with my grief.”

“Where are Tarja and the others, Denjon?”

“The Hythrun and the Defenders who tried to free you are being held down near the picket line. Tarja’s in the Infirmary tent.”

R’shiel’s heart skipped a beat. “Where? What happened?”

“What do you think happened, R’shiel? He doesn’t believe in giving in gracefully. He took a sword in the belly trying to get you out of here.”

There was a reprimand in his words that startled R’shiel. “You sound as if you think this is all my fault.”

“Isn’t it?” Denjon asked. He met her alien eyes for a moment then looked away. “Sergeant! Find Captain Dorak and tell him to go to Lord Terbolt’s tent. And then go down to the picket line and... who’s in charge of the Hythrun?”

“Lord Wolfblade,” Adrina told him.

“The Lord Wolfblade?” He had obviously not been aware of the importance of his prisoner. Adrina nodded, rather amused by his expression. Denjon turned back to the sergeant. “Bring Lord Wolfblade to me. And do it tactfully, Sergeant. The last I heard he was supposed to be on our side.”

“Sir!” The man saluted and turned to go, but Denjon called him back before he had taken more than two steps.

“Send someone to fetch Captain Kilton and Captain Linst, too. I’ll be in the Infirmary.”

The sergeant left to carry out his orders and Denjon turned back to R’shiel.

“I have to warn you, he’s in a bad way.”

“Just take me to him, Denjon.”

“As you wish.”

The captain turned and led the way through the camp followed by R’shiel, Brak, Adrina, Mikel and the curious eyes of a thousand Defenders who sensed that something very significant had just occurred.

Just how significant it was would not be known until the officers had decided what to do now that they were effectively free of Karien control. They had two choices, R’shiel knew: obey their orders and continue on to the border, or defy them and choose a much more dangerous path.

She was certain the latter was what they wanted to do, but she was not at all certain that they would act on it. The Defenders took their duty very seriously. Of all the men she knew in the corps, only Tarja and Jenga had ever had the strength to defy their oath when faced with something they found they could not stomach.

As Denjon pushed back the flap to the large Infirmary tent and the sickening smell of blood and death