“Something you don't want us to see?”
“Not at all. You can watch if you like, but I'd rather you didn't hear it.”
“The Overlord will protect us from your evil, demon child,” the priest Garanus warned.
Captivity had not been kind to the priest. His shaven head was covered in black stubble and his cassock was rumpled and dusty. The priests who stood behind him had fared no better. Damin considered his threat rather hollow. Without their staves the priests were simply ordinary men.
“The Overlord has abandoned you, Garanus. Why else would he let you fall prisoner?”
“We will not listen to your blasphemy!”
“Suit yourself,” R'shiel said with a shrug. “Damin, you should leave now.”
“What about Mikel and Jaymes?” Adrina asked, almost as wary as Damin about what the demon child was planning.
“They'll be fine with me.”
Damin still had no idea what she was up to. With some reluctance, he did as she asked. Taking Adrina's hand he headed back to where Tamylan was waiting with the horses. Almodavar mounted and followed them at a walk. Damin swung into the saddle and turned to watch as R'shiel stood facing the Kariens.
“What is she going to do?” Adrina asked as she settled into her saddle and gathered up her reins.
“You know as much as I do.”
“Drendyn was the only person in Karien who treated me like a human being,” she added, staring at the gathering with concern.
That explained her apology to the young knight.
“If she was planning to kill them, she would have done it by now.” It was a hollow reassurance at best. For all he knew that was exactly what R'shiel was planning.
“Or she would wait until there were no witnesses,” Almodavar pointed out.
“She said something about not listening,” Adrina said. “What could she possibly say to them —”
As if in answer to her question a voice reached them. It was high, pure and perfect and the song it sang touched the very core of Damin's soul. It took him a moment to realise that it was Mikel singing. He could not hear the words; the wind tore them away before he could make them out, but he sat there, rigid, as the lilting notes washed over him in haunting snatches. The song was both enticing and entrancing. It slithered into his brain like sweet wine being poured into an empty cup. It warmed and chilled him at the same time. Visions of a land he did not know filled his mind and he found himself yearning for it with a passion that took him by surprise. The song made him want to laugh and cry simultaneously. He wanted to hear more. It was fear and comfort on the same breath. Love and hatred intermingled. He never wanted it to end.
“Damin! We have to move! Now!”
It was Adrina who jerked him back to reality. He glanced at the prisoners and realised that whatever remarkable effect the song had on him, the effect it was having on the Kariens was a hundred times more powerful. As he turned his mount and urged him into a gallop, wisps of the song followed him with tantalising fingers.
Then the tenor of the music changed and no longer did he wish to drown in the beauty of the song. Now it was much more strident, its beauty marred by dark, shadowy images that chased him until they were far enough away that the music no longer reached them.
Once they were safely out of range, they turned and looked back at the Kariens. R'shiel stood before the captive knights, but they could not make out her expression from this distance. Mikel stood beside her, singing to the Kariens in that glorious, unnatural voice that seduced and tormented at once.
Jaymes seemed unaffected, his hand resting on his brother's shoulder, as if he was holding him down against the wind, but the rest of the Kariens were transfixed. Some men were weeping, some were frozen to the spot. The priest Garanus was on his knees, his hands over his ears. The young knight Drendyn was staring at the boy as if he was experiencing some sort of religious ecstasy. All around him, his men seemed to be in the throes of either torment or rapture.
“What was that? What is she doing?” Damin asked.
“The Song of Gimlorie,” Adrina told him, her eyes fixed on the Kariens, her voice filled with awe.
“That's simply a legend,” Almodavar scoffed.
“No. It's real enough. My father tried to get some of the priestesses to perform it in Talabar once. He thought it would guarantee him a legitimate son. None of the temples would even consider the idea, and he offered them a fortune in gold to do it. They all claimed it was too dangerous.”
“So how did Mikel learn it?”
“R'shiel obviously had a hand in that.” Adrina turned to him then, her expression thoughtful. “You know, if the legends are correct, he who sings the Song of Gimlorie is a channel for the gods.”
“I can well believe it,” Damin agreed, thinking of the effect that even catching part of the song had on him.
They waited in silence after that, until R'shiel ordered Mikel to stop singing. Mikel sagged, as if the song had drained him completely. His brother gently gathered the unconscious child up in his arms and together with R'shiel walked back across the plain towards them.
CHAPTER 7
Despite Adrina's confident assurance that landing in the main courtyard of the Summer Palace was bound to get Hablet's attention, Brak chose to make a less dramatic entrance into Talabar. He landed his demon-melded dragon some distance north of the capital on a warm, muggy afternoon three days after he left Medalon, and set out for the city on foot.
He was not well prepared for the journey, though he wasn't worried about his lack of resources. Once he shed his winter layers of clothing, he turned onto the road and began heading south towards the sprawling pink metropolis, secure in the knowledge that several hundred years of living on his wits left him well equipped to handle anything a Fardohnyan could throw at him.
Brak had eschewed his Harshini heritage for many years, but he was not averse to using a little magic when it was for a good cause. As his only cause these days seemed to be aiding the demon child, he felt justified in taking a few liberties with his power that would have horrified his full-blooded cousins.
Since he had no local currency and was not looking forward to walking all the way to Talabar, he prevailed upon the Lady Elanymire to meld herself into a large uncut ruby. He then traded the ruby to a merchant from a passing caravan, whose eyes lit up with greed when Brak offered him the gem for a horse, a saddle, some basic supplies, and a small bag of coin.
Any guilt Brak may have felt over the transaction vanished when he saw the state of the merchant's slaves. They were underfed and miserable, their bare feet blistered from trudging the gravelled road in the heat. Even the richly dressed court'esa who sat on the seat of the gaily-covered lead wagon wore a look of abject misery.
Brak rode away on his newly purchased horse content that the merchant deserved everything that was coming to him. The following morning, Lady Elanymire popped into existence on the pommel of his saddle, laughing delightedly at the expression on the avaricious merchant's face when he discovered his prized ruby had vanished.
Fardohnya had a timeless quality about it. The people were still dusky, smiling, dark-haired souls who seemed, if not content, then accepting of their lot in life. It always struck him as odd that the Fardohnyans were so cheerful. Perhaps it was because their King, while grasping, devious and deceitful, at least understood that a happy population was a quiet one. Hablet wisely confined his more outrageous excesses to his court and Fardohnya's neighbours.