The officer did not move or speak but observed his prisoners as if contemplating her words. He glanced at the weary riders, centaurs, the wounded, the woman in the back of the wagon, and the fierce Drathkin’kela that defended them all. He nodded once.
“Bring them all,” he ordered.
“Do not fight back,” Linsha said to her troop. “Cooperate for now.”
The men and centaurs tossed down their weapons and fell in behind their captors. A Tarmak climbed up on the wagon and pushed Linsha to the back so he could drive.
They turned down the valley past the bulge of rock and headed toward a much larger hill surrounded by trees and cut by eroded gullies. Linsha was not surprised when they turned into the trees and found the Tarmak army camouflaged in the shelter of the woods.
Fear bubbled in her stomach. Lanther was waiting for her. Lanther and his anger at her betrayal. She began to wonder if fighting the Tarmak to the death might not be a better choice than putting herself in Lanther’s hands again. She saw him in a clearing in the midst of his commanders, his body painted blue and his face covered by the mask of the Akkad. In spite of his shorter stature and smaller build, he radiated an arrogant confidence and a sense of justified superiority that made him obvious even in a crowd of taller warriors. She felt her stomach twist into knots.
The dekegul stopped his warriors near the Akkad-Dar’s position and ordered two of them to get Linsha.
She decided not to make matters worse for the others by fighting. She squeezed Callista’s hand, gripped Sir Hugh’s shoulder, and climbed out of the wagon without urging from the Tarmaks. Before the warriors could prompt her, she strode directly to the Akkad-Dar and accosted him, her arms crossed and her expression radiating anger. She noticed he was wearing the dragon scale cuirass and a sword big enough to remove a minotaur’s head.
“How did you get here so fast?” she asked in a voice of total outrage.
“It’s good to see you, too.” He crossed his arms and mimicked her posture. “Did you think I would let my wife go to war without me? The dragon did not burn every ship.” He took a step closer and gripped her jaw with his fingers. “Why did you leave?” he hissed in her ear.
His fingers were like steel and buried themselves into her skin so hard that she could not move her jaw. Her eyes met his through the mask. Terror seared through her that he was going to use the spell that seemed to rip her mind apart. She wrenched herself away from him so hard she tripped over a rock on the ground and fell hard on her back. Her head slammed into the earth. Through the ringing pain she heard laughter and the sharp snap of orders.
Someone lifted her to her feet and bound her arms. Lanther watched as the warriors restrained her, and when they were finished, he searched the wagon and found the leather bag. Holding it close to her face, he said, “When this is done, we will consummate our marriage, and when I am finished with you, no man will ever touch you again.”
“What is so important about that book?” she croaked. “What do I care about Lord Ariakan and his Amarrel?”
He gave a self-satisfied chuckle. “Afec’s greatest prophecy, given five years before I came to the Plains. The Emperor, the Empress, and I were the only ones who heard it.” He leaned in close, and she felt the cold metal of his mask against her ear as he whispered, “The Amarrel has not been born yet. Ariakan deceived Khanwhelak’s father. The Warrior Cleric will be Drathkin’kelkhan, the son of the Chosen of the Dragon. And I will be his father, my dear Drathkin’kela.”
Linsha was too stunned to comprehend. All she could do was stare at him through a fog of pain and disbelief.
He turned to the others of her company. “That one!” he pointed to Menneferen. The centaur eyed the Brutes around him and walked to the Akkad-Dar.
Linsha looked at him, but her vision was blurry and all she could see was his reddish hide. “Please don’t kill him,” she whispered.
“I have no intention of that,” Lanther said. “He is going to do something for me. Now, listen carefully, centaur. You will go to that peak, around to the west side. You will see the entrance the bronze dragon made in the side of the volcano. Go to that entrance. The dragon is there.”
He was speaking to the centaur like an adult sometimes speaks to a dull-witted child, and Linsha found it very annoying. She squirmed in her tight bindings, but the warriors who gripped her arms ignored her.
“You will tell the dragon.” Lanther went on, “that the Tarmaks have attacked your party near the river. Lady Knight Linsha Majere desperately needs his help. You will do what you must to get the dragon to leave the cave, or I will kill these fine folk. If you try to tip him off, I will kill all of them. Do you understand?”
The centaur nodded, his face expressionless.
“Good.” Lanther lifted a finger.
Linsha heard the snap of a bowstring, the whirring flight of an arrow, and Menneferen jolted back and groaned. Frantic for him, she struggled to clear her vision and finally saw a Tarmak arrow penetrating his rump. It was not a fatal wound, but it was painful and it bled enough to make a dark red patch on his hide.
“You may go now,” Lanther said with a wave of his hand.
Limping, the centaur jogged out of the clearing and took the most direct route toward the peak.
Linsha felt herself picked up and slung over the shoulder of a burly warrior. She lifted her head enough to see the others rounded together and led off into the trees. There was nothing more she could do for them but hope she would see them again. Callista waved once to her, and they were gone out of sight in the heavy woods.
Then there was no more time to wonder. She was carried through the trees and brought out into another valley where a string of large horses stood in the shadows of the pines. Linsha recognized them as Damjatt horses from Ithin’carthia. Lanther and his guards mounted and readied themselves to ride while Linsha was placed behind Lanther on his horse. He took an extra length of rope, wrapped it around her wrists, and tied it to the horn of his saddle.
The riders urged their horses into a trot and rode in single file through the woods around the base of the hill. Linsha’s head cleared enough so she could see where they were going, but she wasn’t strong enough to do anything about it. She had enough sense left to know that Lanther held the rope tied to her wrists, and if she jumped or fell she would only break something. She sat behind him and nursed her strength for a better opportunity.
In the shelter of the pines, the riders stopped and waited.
Linsha looked around. She still felt dizzy and her back ached from her fall, but her vision was clear and her strength was returning. She saw the peak ahead of them, looming against the blue sky. The Tarmak riders were on the west side now, for the sun was behind them, and they were very close.
“There he goes!” a warrior said in Tarmakian, and they watched the bronze dragon charge out of the cave and take wing. As soon as he was out of sight, the riders kicked their horses into a gallop.
The Damjatt horses burst out of the trees into the sunlight. They may not have been fast, but they were very sure-footed. They galloped across a wide, open field and up the steep, rocky foot of the volcano without missing a step.
Linsha held on to Lanther as the horses plunged up the slope and came to a sliding stop on a wide ledge in front of a hole in the side of the peak. The hole was rounded, large enough for an averaged-sized dragon to slip through, and it penetrated deep into the flanks of the volcano. The Damjatt horses caught the scent of dragon and balked at the entrance.
The Akkad-Dar and his warriors slid off their horses. Several Tarmaks took the reins and led the horses away from the cave’s mouth, while the others loosened their swords and lit torches. Lanther yanked Linsha off his horse and wrapped the end of her binding rope around his hand to keep her close.