“We shall meld and become the blood that he requires.”
“You can do that?” She looked at Brak for confirmation. The idea was too bizarre to comprehend.
Brak nodded. “Wounded Harshini have been saved by their bonded demons entering their bodies until they could reach help. It’s not unheard of.”
“It is where I come from.”
He smiled faintly. “You still have so much to learn, don’t you?”
“Will this really work?”
Brak glanced at Dranymire who shrugged. “Humans and Harshini are not so different.”
“Then let’s do it,” she announced, reaching for the thin blanket that covered Tarja.
Brak laid a restraining hand on hers. “A word of caution, R’shiel. This will mean that until he’s recovered enough to survive on his own, Tarja will be literally possessed by demons. Not even Dranymire knows what that will do to him if he survives. Are you prepared for that?”
She thought for a moment before replying.
“One problem at a time. I’ll deal with the consequences later.”
He shook his head. “Just so long as you understand that you could be making a big mistake.”
R’shiel did not reply. Rather she pulled the blanket down, revealing the blood-soaked bandages that bound Tarja’s midriff.
“I mean it, R’shiel.”
She looked up at him and shrugged. “I don’t make mistakes, Brak. Everything I’ve ever done in my life seemed like the right idea at the time.”
Chapter 66
Denjon led Adrina and the others away from the Infirmary tent, obviously glad to be gone from such blatant proof of the continuing existence of the Harshini. R’shiel had obviously been acquainted with the captain and he seemed to know Tarja quite well, too. It was more than likely the reason he had not struck them down when they emerged from Terbolt’s tent. On the other hand, if Jenga’s reaction had been anything to go by, surrender was an alien concept to these men. Perhaps R’shiel had merely provided them with the excuse their training and their oath denied them.
Whatever the reason for their cautious cooperation, three other captains awaited them outside Terbolt’s tent. Denjon introduced them as Dorak, Kilton, and Linst. The men all wore that same serious, wary expression that she had come to associate with the Defenders. Between that and their identical uniforms, she found it hard to tell them apart.
“The Karien Prince is dead,” Dorak told Denjon, casting a wary eye over Adrina and Damin as they approached. “He was stabbed. Terbolt’s dead too, although there’s not a mark on him. It could have been poison.”
“It wasn’t poison,” Denjon replied. “Are they still in there?”
Dorak nodded.
“Let’s talk in the mess tent. I’d rather this wasn’t overheard.” He glanced at Mikel meaningfully.
The child followed Adrina like a faithful shadow, afraid to let her out of his sight.
“Mikel, why don’t you go down and join Captain Almodavar and the others. I’m sure he’ll look after you until we finish here.”
“Am I a prisoner now?”
“No. Just go down and tell him everything will be sorted out soon,” Damin added, with surprising gentleness. “Your brother’s down there somewhere too. I’m sure he’ll be happy to see you.”
He nodded doubtfully. “Is he all right?”
“Why don’t you go and find out?”
With one last cautious look, the boy turned and ran towards the picket lines.
The captains led the way to another long tent. The only difference between this one and the infirmary was the interior. The mess tent was lined with collapsible tables and benches rather than beds. The smell was marginally better, too. Once inside, Denjon dismissed the cooks and waited until he was certain they were gone before he turned to the others.
“We have a decision to make, gentlemen.”
“Then perhaps you’d like to tell us what’s going on?” one of the captains said. It was Linst or the other one. Adrina really couldn’t remember which one was which.
“I would if I knew. Perhaps you could enlighten us, your Highness?”
After so long among the Kariens, who considered the input of a woman no input at all, Adrina wasn’t really expecting to be included in the conversation. But these men served the Sisterhood. They suffered no illusions about the ability of women. She glanced at Damin who squeezed her hand in encouragement.
“I want to know what happened to my slave, first.”
“What slave?” Denjon asked.
“The young woman who was with me when we were captured.”
The captains glanced at each other and shrugged. “There were no other women captured, your Highness. She probably escaped in the confusion.”
“Could you send some men out to find her, Captain? She’s alone in a foreign country and not equipped to survive on her wits. Not in the wilderness, at least.” Denjon nodded to Linst, who left the tent to issue the order. That worrying detail taken care of, Adrina felt a lot more secure about her future among these men. “Thank you. Now what did you want to know?”
“Let’s start with what you’re doing here,” Denjon suggested.
“I fled Karien. The Defenders offered me their protection and when the order for the surrender came from the Citadel, I decided to leave, rather than return to my husband. Lord Wolfblade kindly offered to escort me.”
“Did you kill Cratyn?” Kilton asked curiously.
“No. R’shiel did.”
“No offence, ma’am, but I can’t say I’m sorry. He was an obnoxious little bastard.”
Adrina immediately warmed to the captain. Cratyn must have made quite an impact in the short time he was in the Defender’s camp.
“No need to apologise, Captain. You merely demonstrate that you are an excellent judge of character.”
“Where are the rest of the Hythrun?” Denjon asked Damin, anxious to stick to the business at hand, although he did allow himself a small smile at Adrina’s comment. None of these men seemed the least bit bothered by Cratyn’s demise. “Rumours in the Citadel had it that you had near a thousand men on the border.”
“I don’t share the Lord Defender’s enthusiasm for following orders, Captain. The bulk of my men left as soon as I realised Jenga intended to surrender. We were the last to leave.”
“And Tarja?”
Damin smiled at the Captain’s expression. “He was following Jenga’s orders. I believe the plan was to make life as difficult as possible for your new masters. The Defenders he took with him were all he thought he could sneak out without the Kariens noticing.”
Denjon nodded, looking rather relieved. “Following the Lord Defender’s orders, you say? Well that makes our decision somewhat easier.”
“Making life difficult for the Kariens does seem a rather noble cause,” Kilton agreed with a grin.
Linst returned from arranging Tamylan’s rescue party and looked at his brother captains with a shake of his head. “You can’t seriously be considering joining him?”
“I doubt Tarja will live long enough to join anything,” Dorak added. “But if the Lord Defender ordered him to undertake a special mission, aren’t we duty-bound to pick up where he left off?”
“There’s a thousand men in this camp! How many of them do you think will want to follow you on such a damned fool mission?”
“Most of them, I imagine,” Kilton shrugged. “Bring me one man in the camp, from the lowliest kitchenhand to the highest ranked officer, who was pleased to be marching anywhere under Karien command.”
Linst nodded in agreement, albeit reluctantly. “Aye. But if we follow the Lord Defender’s orders, aren’t we disobeying the Sisterhood?”