Ashok allowed himself a smile. Chanoch and Cree applauded, whooping with excited laughter. Vedoran’s expression remained neutral. Ashok knew only half his attention was on the spectacle in the paddock. The other half considered the greater implications of where Ashok sat, of his place as a Camborr.
Suddenly, amid the noise, the nightmare came to life. Ashok gripped handfuls of mane when the beast reared up, pawing the air with fire licking his hooves. He came down hard, throwing Ashok forward against his neck.
“Hold!” Ashok cried as the shadar-kai moved in. The nightmare charged, and Olra’s guards broke the protective ring around Ashok. The beast took the gap and ran for the fence, veered aside at the last breath, and galloped in a wide circle around the paddock.
Ashok held on, half-blinded by the wall of heat rising around him. The nightmare’s fetlocks and tail were fully ablaze. His mane flared pale orange but did not ignite. Ashok could see the blue roots outlining the nightmare’s spine. He was holding back. Ashok couldn’t imagine the restraint it took for the nightmare not to burn his rider alive.
The faces of the watching shadar-kai blurred together as they ran, and Ashok-sweating, fevered, close to burning-almost didn’t see the other figure that stood watching from outside the fence.
Uwan regarded him from a distance, his face unreadable. But as Ashok rode past, the Watching Blade raised his hand to his chest in salute.
Euphoric, Ashok raised his own hand in answer.
“He can’t be trusted with this mission,” Natan said.
Uwan and Natan stood in the empty training yard, waiting for Ashok and the rest of the recruits. The cleric’s face looked dangerously thin in the half-light. It reminded Uwan how little Natan had done except pray in the last month. He ate only what he needed to survive, slept in vision-shrouded dreams, and rarely ventured outside except to come to Athanon to report to him.
“There’s no questioning Ashok’s skill,” Uwan said. “He could best many of the Guardians in open combat, though Jamet still has reservations about his control.”
“You sound as if you’re proud of him,” said Natan.
“I’m proud of them all,” Uwan said. The footprints of the recruits had torn up the ground. They’d sparred amid the distant nightmare screams, never breaking. Warriors, all. Yes, he was proud of them.
“Yet Ashok isn’t one of ours,” Natan reminded him.
“He has acquitted himself well this past month. And he tamed the nightmare,” Uwan said. “I wouldn’t have thought it possible, but the two of them, riding in that paddock, they looked right together.”
“Once he’s outside the city, he’s beyond our control,” Natan said. “We can’t stop him, if he chooses to betray us.”
“That’s when Tempus takes over,” Uwan said. “He will guide Ashok in our stead.”
Natan looked at him. “My Lord, Tempus has already warned us of an imminent threat to our city that will involve Ashok in some form. Now he sends me a vision-” Natan’s voice broke.
Uwan put a hand on the cleric’s shoulder. “I know, my friend,” he said. “He’s showing us the way to find her. We’re very close now.”
“I saw the vast bog,” Natan said. “Fire burned a path through the swamp and pointed the way. I saw her face, my Lord. She is alive.”
“I never doubted it,” Uwan said. “We will bring them all home, Natan. I promise you.”
“But if you send Ashok … If something should go wrong-”
“He will not be alone,” Uwan assured him. “I will surround Ashok with his companions. They are all fine warriors, and I believe they will bind Ashok’s heart to Ikemmu.”
“Forgive me for doubting, my Lord, but you risk much with this plan,” Natan said.
Uwan saw the worry and fear etched on the cleric’s gaunt face. He squeezed Natan’s shoulder. “Be strong,” Uwan said. “It won’t be long now.”
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Ashok didn’t hear the Monril Bell. He was buried in the dream.
His back was to the cold cave wall, his chain snapping across the fire to warn his brother away. Lakesh had fallen after taking a blow to the face from Ashok’s chain. He hadn’t gotten up yet.
Somewhere in the distance, Ashok heard a scream like a mad horse. He shivered despite the heat of the fire. Where had he heard that sound before?
Another shadow moved in the tunnel mouth, and Ashok tensed, his lips curling in a feral snarl. He clutched an arm against his chest. It was wet with his blood and raw from the sword slash Lakesh had given him.
Was it another brother come to challenge him?
“No,” Ashok growled. “No more.”
His father stepped around the fire, his boots crunching gravel. He held a torch and a bucket of water, which he poured onto the flames.
Smoke erupted in the confined space. Ashok’s eyes watered. “What are you doing?” he demanded. Half blind, he couldn’t tell if Lakesh was preparing another attack. Why would his father interfere?
“No fires so deep in the caves. You know the rules,” his father said. He was an imposing figure, with a mane of dirty red hair and beast hide armor. Thick, ropey scars covered his arms and legs. He was the most physically dominant figure in their enclave, but not the most cunning. The cunning had gone to his sons, seven of them.
Once there had been nine.
They’d all been got on different mothers in the enclave, but those were either gone or with other men. The shadar-kai existed as rogues, or in enclaves like wolves, but they did not have that animal’s notion of a pack when it came to mating or raising offspring.
Shadar-kai mated for stimulation first and to produce young second. Offspring were divided up between sire and dam as they saw fit and raised until they could fend for themselves and contribute to the enclave.
“Get out of here,” Ashok said to his father, his chain held crosswise in front of him. It was a flimsy defense against his father’s brute strength.
“Stand at ease,” his father said with narrowed eyes. “Lakesh is dead.”
“What?” said Ashok. He came around the ruined fire and saw that his father spoke the truth. Lakesh lay on his back, his throat slashed open by Ashok’s chain. The blood looked black against his brother’s gray skin.
“Well done,” his father said gravely.
“I didn’t challenge him,” Ashok said. Mechanically, he gathered his chain-the spikes still stained with his brother’s lifeblood-and put it back on his belt. His dagger was somewhere on the ground; he would find it later. “He came to me,” Ashok said.
“Lakesh underestimated you,” his father said. “The others won’t.”
“But they will come for me,” Ashok said. He could still hear the harsh scream echoing in the caves. The sound was coming closer. “What will happen when there are none of us left?” he asked. “Who will defend the enclave?”
“The strongest will find a way to survive,” his father said, unconcerned. “They will dominate the weak.”
“Such a waste,” Ashok said. “All of it.”
“It’s the only way we keep power,” his father replied.
“What benefit to Lakesh?” Ashok asked, his voice rising. “He put food in my mouth when I was a babe. I remember that time. Now you’re pitting us all against each other. You make us weak.”
His father moved fast. His big hand encased Ashok’s throat and drove him back against the cave wall.
“Choose your words well, my son,” he said, bending his face close to Ashok’s.
Ashok choked. The screaming was so loud he could barely hear his father’s voice. “Don’t do this,” he cried.
“Don’t do this?” his father said, his face twisting. With shoulders shaking, he bellowed with uncontrolled laughter that mingled with the scream. “What makes you think we have a choice, child?”