could not compete with the impossibly perfect, magically gifted Harshini. The original First Sister, Param, had been a bitter old woman whose younger husband had had a fling with a Harshini woman and never recovered from the experience. Param never understood that what had driven her husband away was not the loss of love, but the fact that no human coupling could ever compare with the magic a Harshini could weave.
Only Brak knew that the Harshini woman who had so thoughtlessly shared her body and her gift with the handsome young human who took her fancy was actually Shananara te Ortyn.
She had told him about it a few days after it happened, afraid that she might have conceived, aware that any half-human child of hers would be a demon child. He understood her predicament a little better than her full-blooded kin. She was fearful of explaining what she had done to her uncle, Lorandranek - or worse, the gods, who, back then, would never have contemplated such a child being allowed to exist. Xaphista wasn't as strong then and the other gods paid him little mind. When her moontime came and went a few weeks later, Shananara swore off humans, claiming they weren't as satisfying as Harshini in any case, and thought nothing more of it. None of them had.
Until Param and her Sisterhood overran the Citadel and set about destroying the Harshini.
He glanced across at R'shiel as the dragons flew southward, following the silver ribbon of the Glass River, and decided not to tell her. She had too much going on inside that head of hers already. She would cope with what had happened in her own way, and if he had done nothing else, he had freed her from the last vestiges of her grief over Tarja. Although she did not realise it, her Harshini heritage was strong. Her conversation with Mandah in the hall outside the First Sister's office sprang to mind. Letting Tarja go like that, being so willing to stand back and let Mandah have a clear field, was probably the most Harshini thing he had ever seen her do.
They were a few hours north of Bordertown when they spied the Fardohnyan fleet. Brak was amazed they had come so far so quickly, even with Harshini help. The ships were strung out in a line, their oars dipping and rising in perfect unison.
Maera, the Goddess of the Glass River, and Brehn, the God of Storms, were assisting their passage. While Maera hadn't gone so far as to make the river flow backwards, the strong currents that characterised the river were now so mild that the oarsmen could keep up their steady pace for hours. Between Maera's help, the winds that Brehn provided (which conveniently changed direction with every bend in the river) and the Harshini, who had flown south to join them, the Fardohnyans were likely to be in Brodenvale within a couple of weeks.
Satisfied that the Fardohnyans were on their way, they did nothing more than swoop down over the fleet and wave before turning south-east towards Hythria.
It took them nearly a week to find Damin. His call to arms had been answered, but the same problem that had plagued Damin when Greenharbour was under attack was still causing trouble. The Warlords' armies were scattered throughout Hythria and it was taking a mammoth effort, both logistical and magical, to gather them all in one place.
They found him eventually, still in Hythria, but close enough to the border that he would be over it in a few days. They landed on the edge of Damin's camp at sunset. The High Prince was waiting to greet them, with Adrina at his side. She was noticeably pregnant, but was glowing with good health. Brak frowned when he saw her. Damin should have had more sense than to let a woman in her condition ride into battle. Then again, when it came to Adrina, he guessed Damin probably didn't have much say in the matter.
“Nice of you to drop in, demon child,” Damin said as he stepped forward to greet them. His good mood no doubt had as much to do with the fact that he was off to war again, as it did with his pleasure at their arrival. Brak had always liked Damin, but he was a warrior at heart. The responsibilities of a High Prince, a wife and a child on the way weren't likely to change him.
R'shiel smiled, just as pleased to see her friends as they were to see her. She eyed Adrina with a slight frown and shook her head. “Adrina, what are you doing here?”
“Not much, if the truth be known. Damin won't let me do a damned thing.”
“He shouldn't have let you come at all.”
“As if I had any say in the matter,” Damin complained. “Hello, Brak. How was Fardohnya?”
“Interesting.”
Damin laughed. “I want to hear all about it. We're waiting for Rogan and his Raiders to catch up with us at the moment so we've a day or so to spare before we get moving again. Are you here to stay?”
“No,” R'shiel answered for him. “We have to get back to the Citadel.”
“Well, we might as well enjoy the evening, then. Will the dragons be all right out here?”
“They'll be fine. Is Glenanaran with you?”
“He's resting at the moment. It's taken a lot out of him to get us this far so quickly.”
“Did the others arrive safely?” He wasn't sure who among the Harshini had volunteered to join the Hythrun, or even how many there were.
Adrina nodded. “They arrived a couple of days ago. I've never seen so many Harshini before.”
“Neither has anyone else,” R'shiel agreed. Then she caught sight of a small figure half hidden behind Adrina. “Mikel! What are you doing hiding back there?”
The Karien boy stepped forward with a hesitant smile. “My Lady.”
“Look at you, Mikel! You've shot up like a weed! What are you feeding him, Adrina?”
“Hythrun army rations,” Adrina told her with a grimace. “I'm glad they have such a beneficial effect on small boys. They do absolutely nothing for my taste buds.”
“Always complaining,” Damin sighed, but he was smiling at Adrina, who glanced back at him warmly. The change in them was astounding. Adrina had never looked better, and Damin, who had always been a cheerful sort of fellow, appeared ready to burst with happiness. “Come on then. Let's go sample the culinary delights of Hythrun army rations, and you can tell me how the hell you managed to get Hablet to send his fleet to our rescue.”
R'shiel slipped her arm through Damin's and the three of them turned back towards the tents, as R'shiel began to relate how she had blown the doors off Hablet's palace in Talabar.
Damin's tent proved to be more luxurious than he normally preferred - no doubt a concession to Adrina, who made no secret of her desire for life's creature comforts. Despite the dire warnings about Hythrun army rations, dinner was delicious, the wine excellent and the company entertaining.
The High Prince and his Princess sat close together on the low scattered cushions and once Mikel cleared the remains of dinner away from the low table, Adrina leaned against Damin unselfconsciously as they shared their news from the past weeks. Damin draped an arm over her shoulder in a gesture that seemed as much possessive as affectionate. They still argued a lot, but it lacked the vicious edge of their earlier encounters - although Adrina's caustic wit had not dulled, and neither had Damin learnt to take anything seriously.
Watching Adrina and Damin together, Brak wondered if Kalianah had taken a hand in their romance. He decided she hadn't. They were too well suited to each other. Kalianah's interference was required only when a couple would never fall in love unless she stepped in. She took a perverse pleasure in doing that, too. It gave her a sense of power. But the Hythrun High Prince and the daughter of the Fardohnyan King were obviously kindred spirits. He wondered idly whether if Damin had not been so keen to avoid Adrina earlier, their obvious attraction - which, according to what he'd heard in the Defender's camp in Medalon, was apparent from the moment they laid eyes on each other - would have caused trouble sooner.
It might be a very different world if it had.
Damin was relating the tale of Greenharbour's dramatic rescue by the unexpected appearance of the Defenders when Brak caught sight of Mikel out of the corner of his eye. He turned and watched as the child approached R'shiel. He was holding a goblet - a plain, metal cup with nothing to distinguish it from any other in the tent - but he held it reverently, as if it was an offering to the gods.
“So, there we were,” Damin was saying, “ready to burn Greenharbour to the ground and I hear trumpets in the distance. I thought I was going mad.”
“But why did the Defenders head for Greenharbour?” R'shiel asked. “I thought the plan was to muster them
