Blood's Pride (Shattered Kingdoms) (35 page)

Rho lurched through the crowd herding Dramash in front of him, trying to shield the boy from sight with his sun-proof cape. He felt naked without Fortune’s Blight in his hand, but the child had been too scared to move until he’d sheathed it; the boy was still shivering, from fear or from Rho’s chill, or both. The shifting firelight and the smoke added to the confusion, but made it easier for him to avoid both Shadari and Norlanders as he made his way to where he’d seen her last, in front of the little doorway. She was still there, and the Nomas king was with her, but there was no one else close by. At first he thought Jachad was protecting her from some danger, but as he got closer he realised they were arguing. It sounded like he was trying to force her out of the stables.

Her eyes widened when she caught sight of Rho coming towards her.

‘I remember you. You’re Harotha—’ he started, but a rasping cough took hold of him and he half-shoved Dramash towards her. ‘Take him,’ he choked out. He waved his hand meaningfully at her belly. ‘You must know some place to hide if you’ve been here all this time – a safe place. Take him there, now!’

‘Wait,’ Jachad said softly. Little yellow flames wound around his fingers and whisked up his arms, singeing the sleeves of his robe. ‘What’s this all about?’

Dramash’s eyes were shut tight and his shoulders were hunched over protectively, but relief broke over Rho as he watched Harotha grab the boy by the hand and pull him towards the doorway – until the child dug his heels into the ground and raised his shrill voice over the rest of the din, screaming, ‘Rho! Rho!’ Harotha pulled him back against her and clapped her hand over his mouth.

Rho ran forward. ‘Dramash, stop—’ he began, but the boy burst from Harotha’s restraining embrace and clamped his arms around Rho’s leg. Rho rocked back with a gasp of pain but Dramash gritted his teeth against the cold and held on. ‘No, no! You must go with them!’ he pleaded, trying to push the child away without hurting him. ‘Go to your family!’

The light dimmed as a cloud of smoke rolled over them. Rho covered his mouth with his sleeve and wiped at his burning eyes. The others were gasping and coughing around him, but out of the smoke two Shadari rushed up to them: Daryan, with another, much taller man just behind him.

‘You! I’ve been trying to find you. You saved my life. Why?’ Daryan demanded of him. His face was patched with soot now, and the knuckles of both of his hands glistened with fresh blood.
Blue
blood. ‘Why are the Dead Ones fighting each other? What’s going on?’

Rho coughed again as he started to answer, but this time he couldn’t stop. Every convulsion pulled at the wound across
his abdomen; he pressed his forearm hard against it as if he could somehow keep in the pain. At last, eyes streaming and doubled over, he managed to gasp, ‘Frea’s gone too far. She plans to burn your city to the ground. Take the imperial ship, attack Norland. Attack the emperor himself.’

Daryan looked back at his companion and laughed; to Rho’s ears it had a strained, panicked sound. ‘You’re saying you’ve turned against her – that you’re on our side now?’

‘Some of us.’

‘Well, which ones? How are my people supposed to tell which ones to fight and which one to help?’

‘I don’t know – they can’t!’ he shouted hoarsely. He shoved Dramash away from him with both hands and drew Fortune’s Blight, desperate for the feel of the cold metal in his hand. He began backing away from the Shadari and the Nomas. ‘I don’t know anything – I don’t know what I’m doing. Just take the boy and go! I have to help my friends.’

Harotha knelt behind Dramash and circled her arms around his chest. ‘It’s all right,’ she said, ‘You don’t remember me, but I’m your aunt. I’ll take you some place safe. You’ll—’ But then she stopped, and Rho noticed two things simultaneously: first, Dramash was standing as straight and rigid as a stake instead of struggling in her embrace or trying to run back to Rho; second, a soft shower of dust was raining down onto Harotha’s brown scarf.

‘No!’ he screamed wildly. He charged forward and grabbed Dramash’s arm with his gauntleted hand. ‘Stop!’ he ordered, shaking the boy fiercely. ‘Stop – you’ll kill us all!’

The boy looked up at him with an indecipherable expression
on his face, but the tension in his arm melted away. He had been trying to get Rho’s attention and he had succeeded.

Rho glanced at Harotha. Her lack of surprise was enough to tell him that she already knew what Dramash could do.

‘I have to get him out of here,’ she said, her voice low, but her dark eyes blazing with meaning. ‘You’ll have to come with us.’

‘Yes,’ Rho capitulated heavily. He sheathed his sword again. ‘Where?’

‘Someone tell me what is—’ Daryan interrupted, but Harotha cut him off.

‘Dramash was born with the power of the ashas and the White Wolf knows about it,’ she said succinctly. The expression on Daryan’s face changed dramatically, as did that of his companion. ‘We need to get him as far away from Frea as possible.’

‘But then the ashas …’ Daryan’s face changed again and he rushed forward and seized her by the shoulders. ‘The way out – I know where it is. I was there, just a little while ago.’

She drew in a sharp breath. ‘By the gods – then we can get him out – we can get
everyone
out.’

Daryan turned back to the tall Shadari. ‘Omir, tell everyone to meet at Shairav’s rooms – but they mustn’t all go at once. The Dead Ones mustn’t find out – especially the White Wolf. Find a way to get word to everyone who’s not here. We don’t want anyone left behind.’

The tall man – Omir – nodded curtly and disappeared into the smoke.

Jachad had left the odd little company at some point without Rho noticing, but now he returned with news. ‘It’s chaos in
there: Meiran and Frea are both caught up in the fighting. I’ll stay and do anything I can to keep Frea from following you.’

‘But you should come with us,’ Harotha said.

Jachad shook his head. ‘No, I need to wait for the triffons to come back. I need get to my people in the desert and I’ll never be able to walk there in time. This time the Nomas are going to take sides.’

‘Jachad.’ She reached out and clasped the Nomas’ hand. ‘Thank you.’

‘Thank me later. I’ll let you buy me a drink.’ He flashed them a quick smile and then he too disappeared into the smoke.

‘Come on, then, quickly!’ Daryan ducked into the little passageway as Harotha gestured for Rho and Dramash to go before her. He stooped down through the dark opening with Dramash skipping along behind him. The space was cramped, and he sucked in a deep breath of relief when they emerged at the other end.

Daryan ignored the quickest way to Shairav’s chamber and took a route that would keep them further away from the stables and Frea. The night was well advanced and the hallways were dark. Harotha took up a position by Daryan’s side; Rho saw their heads tilted towards each other and caught a few words of their conversation. ‘I have an idea about that. Let me handle it,’ he heard Daryan say before the daimon looked back at him, his brow furrowed.

As they neared Shairav’s quarters they met more glassy-eyed, wheezing Shadari. One woman caught sight of Rho and screeched in terror until Daryan rushed forward to quieten her. ‘He’s all right, he’s with us – he won’t hurt you.’

Dramash brought his scorching body nearer to Rho’s side as the two groups merged and he began to feel faint again. Then they rounded the last corner and found a much larger crowd bottled up in the hallway.

‘Make way, make way, please,’ Daryan called, elbowing his way through, but now it was Dramash leading them all forward, wanting to be at the front for whatever was about to happen. Daryan continued burbling reassurances to the crowd as they entered the chamber, while Rho kept his eyes on Harotha’s back and tried not to think of all those hostile Shadari eyes fixed on him.

‘Daimon!’ a rich voice boomed out of the darkness.

‘Omir?’ Daryan called towards the faint light coming from the far end of the room.

‘This way, Daimon, over here. We’ve found it.’

They passed through a narrow doorway and made their way slowly across a floor littered with debris of some kind, then ducked through yet another doorway. This last room was round, hardly large enough to be called a room at all. A black hole in the middle of the floor took up most of the space. A dozen Shadari hung back against the walls, their expressions hard, nervously fingering their weapons. Rho felt the unmistakable movement of fresh air over his face and looked up to see the star-lit sky. He shut his eyes for a moment and breathed in the clean, cool air.

Dramash stretched towards the hole as they shuffled carefully into the room. ‘What’s that? It doesn’t look like a well. How deep is it?’ he asked excitedly. Instinctively Rho tugged the boy back against the wall.

‘There it is – and the sand’s there already, just like I told you,’ Daryan said to Harotha; to Rho it sounded like the continuation of their secret conversation in the hallway. ‘Do you really think you can do this? Why don’t we ask—?’

‘I can do it,’ she said firmly, and slowly lowered her heavy body to the floor. She began sweeping up the scattered sand into a pile.

‘What are you doing?’ asked Dramash. He was almost dancing with impatience, shifting his weight from one foot to the other. Rho was careful to stay between the boy and the hole.

Daryan turned to Dramash. ‘There are steps there,’ he explained, watching as Harotha smoothed the pile of sand out into a crude rectangle, like a tablet. ‘They were made to slide into the wall, like they are now – that’s why we can’t see them. We need to get them to slide out again, then we’ll all be able to go down the steps and escape.’

‘What’s she doing?’ Dramash asked, pointing to Harotha with his free hand.

‘Praying,’ said Daryan as she began to write in the sand with her finger. Every other Shadari in the room hastily turned against the wall, or covered their eyes with their hands.

Dramash snorted. ‘You don’t need that. Here—’ And before Rho could stop him, he darted towards the gaping hole. For a dizzying moment Rho thought he actually saw him hurtling over the edge, disappearing into the bottomless darkness while he stood there, paralysed with dread – but the boy had just flopped down onto his stomach next to his aunt. He peered into the chasm. ‘Look, like this,’ he crowed, extending his hand over the opening.

There was no tremor, just a gentle little click, echoing down into the darkness. Even the grinding sound was soft and innocuous. And then the scent of the sea came wafting up to them.

‘Light,’ Daryan cried hoarsely, ‘we need light – someone bring a torch.’

Moments later someone placed a torch into Daryan’s hand and he stepped towards the hole. Dramash was now sitting on the edge with his legs dangling over the side. Rho looked around: every Shadari face displayed the same stunned expression.