Harshini

“Cheltaran!” Her voice echoed through the cavernous chamber, but no divine being answered her call.

“Cheltaran!” Was there some sort of ritual she should perform to summon him? Zegarnald came when she called, as did Gimlorie. Dacendaran and Kalianah seemed to come and go as they pleased. She had never tried summoning another god.

“Hey! Cheltaran! I need you!”

“Never have I been summoned quite so... eloquently, demon child.”

She started at the voice and spun around to find the god standing behind her, leaning against the Seeing Stone, his arms folded across his chest. They did that a lot, she noticed. You called them and they popped up where you least expected them.

“Cheltaran?”

He smiled serenely. In solid form he looked like an older version of Dace, but without the motley clothes or cheeky grin. He wore a long white robe, similar to those worn by the healers of Hythria, but she had expected someone older. A fairly ridiculous expectation in hindsight - these beings were immortal. If they appeared old, it was simply because they wished to.

“Is there some reason you called me? You appear quite well.”

“There are Harshini here who need you.”

“Ah yes. The Harshini who overextended themselves.”

“You know about them?”

“Naturally. I am the God of Healing. All sickness and injury is known to me.”

“Then why haven't you done something about it?” she demanded impatiently.

“Healing is part of every living being, just as, sometimes, allowing nature to take its course is also a part of life. Things happen as they must, R'shiel. I do not interfere without good cause.”

“Well you have a good cause now. I need them up and about.”

“You need them? Am I to interrupt the natural order of things at your whim, demon child?”

R'shiel thought about that for a moment, then decided she didn't have time to argue. She nodded. “That's about the strength of it.”

“I have interfered more since you came along than I have in the past millennium,” the god told her with a frown.

“Then a bit more won't make much difference, will it?”

Cheltaran sighed. “Very well, demon child. I will do as you ask. But be warned. There will be a reckoning. Nature requires a certain balance. Each time you call on us to disturb that balance, the day of reckoning draws nearer.”

There was something vaguely threatening in his tone that worried R'shiel.

“I don't mean to.”

“I know you don't. But you are the demon child. You are a force of nature in your own right.”

Cheltaran vanished abruptly, before R'shiel could say anything more. She was puzzled by his sudden disappearance, but the reason became clear a moment later, when the doors to the temple flew open and the sound of booted feet pounding on the tiles echoed through the place. She turned as the interlopers emerged into the light. It was Almodavar, Damin's captain, and a squad of his Raiders.

“My Lady! Lord Wolfblade demands you return to the palace at once!”

“He demands, does he?” she asked with faint annoyance as she descended the steps from the altar. “What's the matter now?”

“The palace was attacked. They've taken Adrina.”

R'shiel swore under her breath.

By the time she reached Almodavar, she was running.

CHAPTER 25

R'shiel was shocked by the devastation when she reached the palace. There was blood on the white marble steps and smeared across the tiled floor of the main hall. The diamond-paned windows that led out onto the balcony and overlooked the harbour were shattered into a carpet of glittering shards that crunched underfoot as she followed Almodavar at a run. There were several bodies lined up near the doors, with shrouds thrown hastily over them. How many had died, she wondered? And for what?

Almodavar led her to a small passage off the main hall that ended in a door inlaid in gold with the crest of the Wolfblade family. Someone had driven a dagger through the eye of the wolf and it remained embedded in the wood like a silent warning. Almodavar opened the door without glancing at the knife and stood back to let R'shiel enter. The Raiders who had escorted them from the Collective stayed on guard outside.

“What happened?”

Damin looked up at the sound of her voice, obviously relieved to see her. But his eyes were hard and she could read the tension in the set of his shoulders. The other men in the room, whom she guessed were Damin and Narvell's lieutenants, wore expressions of concern - and perhaps a little excitement - at the prospect of seeing some action. The only woman present was Marla, who paced the floor impatiently as her sons plotted their revenge. There were maps scattered across the large oval table, anchored at their corners by anything heavy enough to act as a paperweight.

“We received a message that Tejay Lionsclaw had arrived and wanted to meet with us before she entered the city,” Damin told her. “As it turns out, it was false. The palace was attacked while we were gone. We're still counting the dead.”

“And Adrina?”

“We think they took her by boat,” Narvell added. “We found a rope tied to the balcony in her apartments.”

“She could have simply used the confusion to run away,” Marla suggested tartly. “I've never trusted that woman.”

Damin glared at his mother. “I've no time for your bitching, Marla. Adrina did not run away.”

R'shiel silently applauded Damin. It was about time someone put Her Royal Highness in her place. She glanced around the room that Damin had turned into his command post to avoid meeting Marla's eye. It must have been Lernen's private sanctuary. The walls were rather distractingly painted with explicit murals that depicted a variety of sexual positions, some of which R'shiel was certain were physically impossible. It seemed odd, this bustling war council being held amidst such decadent artwork.

“Where would they take her?”

“Dregian Castle lies along the coast here,” Damin said, pointing to the map laid out on the table before him. “It's a few hours away by boat, but easily navigated.”

“They'll have her there before we can mount a counter-attack,” Narvell added.

“So what are you going to do?”

“Get her back,” Damin announced matter-of-factly. His outward air of control worried R'shiel a little. The Damin she knew should have been raging like a wounded bull. It was not like him to be so level headed. He glanced at Narvell, not waiting for R'shiel's reaction. “Have you heard from Rogan yet?”

“No.”

“Damn! I'll need his troops.”

“You're going to attack Cyrus?”

Damin turned to her impatiently. “Of course I'm going to attack him!”

“You're an idiot.”

The whole room stilled as Damin slowly straightened. His eyes were terrible, his whole being radiating fury. This was the Damin she knew. The rage, the grief, the debilitating fear for Adrina was perilously close to the surface. R'shiel realised she had about a heartbeat to explain herself before Damin lost control completely.