Daughter of the Disgraced King (29 page)

He glanced around. These young trees fed his magic, but they
didn’t offer a lot for him to work with. The branches were too stiff to move
easily and not really heavy enough to do much harm. Then his gaze lit on a
bright splash of color just beyond the trees. Oh, yes. He recalled those vines
along the fence. What had Ailsa called them? Bougainvillea or something like that.
They had long, wicked thorns and nicely long and flexible canes. Jathan grinned
evilly. Oh, yeah. He could do something with those all right.

Better yet, his would-be kidnappers—he had no doubt that
their goal was to grab both Ailsa and himself—had their backs turned to the
fence and the bougainvillea vines. Jathan focused his magic and made those
vines whip forward, extend and imprison the louts. Ha! He didn’t even have to
make the vines bind them tightly. Those thorns were incentive enough for those thugs
not to struggle too hard.

Jathan took off running across the copse to Ailsa. He kept
the fence line in sight, just in case he needed to use more of those vines. He
skidded to a halt when he saw what was happening on this side of the trees. It
took a moment to make some sense of the chaos.

Ex-king Sandor, Captain Damek and his guards were battling a
half-dozen more intruders. Princess Izbel hung limply in the arms of another
thug who was trying to drag her through the melee to the nearby gate. Heat
waves rippled through the air surrounding Lady Sosana as she pushed directed
gusts of superheated air at the men nearest Ailsa. Jathan was sure she’d be a
lot more effective if she didn’t have to worry about burning her daughter.

Jathan’s eyes fixed on Ailsa. A trickle of blood on her
forehead and a slightly unfocused gaze told him she’d been struck, too. He
could feel the tingle of her magic and see the closest trees whipping in
response. That wasn’t accomplishing anything but to add to the confusion. Her
back was to the fence or maybe she’d have thought of the better alternative,
too. Or maybe that blow to the head had kept her from thinking clearly.

Jathan’s vision narrowed to Ailsa and the ruffian who held
her. His pulse pounded in his ears and an animal growl rose in his throat. His magic
reached out to bougainvillea vines. He whipped a long cane, equipped with
thorns as long as his thumb, across the face of the man who detained Ailsa. The
man jerked back, pulling his hands up to his bloody face. Ailsa crumpled to her
knees.

Jathan couldn’t hear anything over the roaring in his ears.
He pulled the bougainvillea canes longer to twist them around the thug who’d
hurt his Ailsa. The canes weren’t quite flexible enough to wrap around him and
drive the thorns into him. A high whistle cut through the sound of his own
blood rushing in his ears. Abruptly, the intruders broke off and ran. Captain
Damek’s men gave chase.

Jathan ignored them. The only important thing was Ailsa. He
ran to her side, sliding to his knees and cradling her against him. “Ailsa! Are
you all right?”

She clutched him. “I . . . I think so. When that man hit me,
everything went kind of fuzzy, but it’s becoming clearer now. Only . . . my
head hurts. It feels like it’s going to split open, actually.”

Jathan pulled her closer. He knew that one. He’d had a
similar experience after a very bad fall from his horse when he was about
twelve. The time Arrigo had thought it would be funny to put a burr under the
horse’s saddle. Of course, he’d had his healer-mage mother to take care of him,
then. No such luck now. He stood and swept Ailsa up into his arms. “Let’s get
you inside where you can lie down for a while.” His memory of that earlier
accident included the feeling that light had somehow become sharp and was
stabbing his eyes. “Someplace dark.”

~

Jathan sat by Ailsa talking to her in as calm a voice as he
could manage. He dimly remembered that Mother hadn’t let him sleep for what
seemed like hours after that fall. He wasn’t sure why, but he wasn’t prepared
to take any chances with Ailsa, either. He drew a deep breath, temporarily
unable to think of anything to say. “Is there anything you want?”

Ailsa smiled crookedly. “I think I could drink a cup of tea.”

Jathan smiled back. “I’ll be right back. Now . . . don’t
fall asleep while I’m gone. Hear?” He dropped a kiss on her forehead and stepped
out into the corridor.

The sprawling estate house was bustling with activity. Captain
Damek’s men had returned empty-handed, it seemed. They were taking up positions
to guard the entrances. Were they under siege here? Or was Damek just taking no
chances. Well, the thick mud-brick walls did seem somewhat . . . fort-like.

Ex-king Sandor beckoned Jathan into his study. “How’s Ailsa?”

“Her head hurts. I promised to bring her a cup of tea. When
I hit my head once, years ago, Mother didn’t let me sleep for a while, so I’m
trying to keep her awake.” Belatedly, Jathan thought to ask, “How’s Princess
Izbel?”

“About the same.  Sosana’s sitting with her.”

Captain Damek saluted. “My apologies, Prince Jathan. I never
anticipated that they’d attempt to kidnap you, too. Or that they’d make such a
brazen attack on Princess Ailsa.”

Jathan shrugged. “Neither did I.”

“We’re going to have to make new plans.” Ex-king Sandor blew
out his breath. “Maybe we should all get some rest, first, so we can think
clearly.”

Jathan looked around at all the alert, armed men. “Do you
think we’re in that much danger here, Captain?”

“I think it would be a very bad idea to underestimate the
determination and desperation of some of the barons.” Captain Damek winced. “Again.
I’ve already sent two of my men back to the capitol to apprise Princes Rishiart
and Arrigo of the events of this afternoon. And to ask for reinforcements.”

Ailsa’s head only ached a little by the time they met in
Papa’s office the next morning, doors shut for privacy. Ailsa sat next to
Jathan on one sofa, across from Mama and Papa on the opposite sofa. Aunt Izbel
sat in the large armchair, eyes half closed against the morning light streaming
in from the windows. Captain Damek paced across the window side of the room
like a sentry.

Rishiart perched on Papa’s desk chair, turned backwards so
that his arms folded across the backrest. He’d arrived with more imperial
cavalry sometime after midnight. “I say the best course is to send you two
right back to Terranion now. Once you’re safe over the border, Arrigo, Captain
Damek, and I can make a better assessment of the situation. Father can send
more troops with you, if necessary, when you return next year.”

“So soon?” Ailsa turned to Jathan, worried about him. “We
haven’t even begun to complete the plan. We’re supposed to leave something
behind that you and Papa can use to persuade the barons to accept our terms
before
we come back next winter.”

Rishiart’s lips thinned. “I beg to differ. Clearly, you’ve made
a greater impression on at least some of the barons than we bargained for.”

Papa raised a hand palm out. “I don’t think we should let
ourselves be stampeded into a too-hasty retreat. For all we know, whoever set
up that attack yesterday is only waiting for us to make a rash move. We could
be sending them into a trap.” He turned his hand palm up and closed his fist. “On
the other hand, I think a strategic retreat is probably our best move, now.
When
we’re
ready. Besides, I’d prefer to give Ailsa, particularly,
another day or two to recover before sending her across the desert.”

Rishiart chewed his lip. “You could be right. A few days
might serve to disrupt whatever follow-up plan our enemies may have.” He tilted
his head to the side. “If we could come up with a way to get them away in
secret, that would be best.”

“I’ll send half my cavalry guards with them, just in case,” Captain
Damek said.

Rishiart shook his head. “Father sent the guards to augment
your forces here in case of trouble. Besides, more riders means slower travel
and destroys any hope of secrecy.” He nodded decisively. “I’ll go with them and
get them to the border. I’d like to give my report on this directly to Father
before I come back, anyway.”

Captain Damek folded his arms across his chest and met
Rishiart’s eyes. “All right. I’ll send only a handful of guards. But I’m not
allowing any one of you—let alone all three of you—to cross the desert
unguarded. It’d be more than my life is worth if anything happened to you.”

Mama fingered her honey-blonde hair and looked across at
Ailsa. “What about a diversion?”

Papa turned to her. “What did you have in mind?”

“Properly dressed, I could pass for Ailsa from a distance.
Captain Damek is enough like Jathan—again, from a distance. Say we rode out openly,
back to the capitol with most of the cavalry. Made a show of it, in fact.” She
nodded toward Ailsa and Jathan. “At the same time, they can take the back way
out onto the Imperial Highway. Sneak past the enemy. Ailsa knows the way, but
not very many outside of our family and retainers do. It’s not on any map I
know of.”

Rishiart grinned. “That could work. We’ll be across the
border before they even know we’ve gone.”

“Good plan,” Captain Damek said. “I’m still sending cavalry
guards with you, though.”

Ailsa gripped Jathan’s hand. “We won’t be able to take a
coach on that route. The crossing will be more difficult if we have to ride. We
may not be able to make as much speed as you think.”

Captain Damek shook his head firmly. “No. A coach would slow
you down too much. And you’d be sitting ducks if Lady Sosana’s ploy doesn’t
work. A horse can run across country. A coach can’t.”

Jathan shrugged and stroked his vine, sending another
trickle of magic into it. “I won’t claim I’m looking forward to the crossing,
but I’ll manage.” He looked up at his stepbrother. “Rish can tie me to the
saddle, if necessary.”

Papa’s eyes narrowed. “Baron Mikel’s lands adjoin the Imperial Highway between here and the Ring Mountains. You’ll have to take extreme care on
that part of the road.”

Rishiart grimaced. “Mikel’s one of the worst. I don’t trust
him out of my sight.”

Jathan narrowed his eyes as he stroked his potted vine. “I
don’t like sneaking out. Makes it look like we’re running away. It could be
taken as a sign of weakness. That’s not the impression we want to leave them
with, is it? Kind of undermines everything we’ve just done.”

Rishiart shook his head. “Can’t be helped.”

Ailsa lifted her chin. “Well, if we’re going to be here for
a few more days, we can at least get something done while we wait.”

“My apologies, princess, but you’re not going back to work
that close to the road again,” Captain Damek said.

Ailsa shrugged and rubbed the scab on her forehead. “Possibly
not. But there are other things we can do. If we can’t actually go out and get
the new plants started on site, we can at least prepare the plants for someone
else to put out. And I’m sure there are a few other things we can do. It may
not be as much of a testimonial to green magic as we’d planned on, but it’ll be
something.”

“Should you try to work magic after that knock on the head?”
Papa asked.

Ailsa smiled and snuggled in a little closer to Jathan. “Actually,
I think magic will help me feel better. It always does.”

~

Ailsa looked over her shoulder as she led the others to the
little-known trail that would connect to the Imperial Highway at the second
courier station. In the early dawn light, it was hard to make out much detail. She
thought the wheat field looked greener already after she and Jathan had dealt
with the incipient rust infection. And the young orchard would probably bear
half again as much fruit this year. The berry canes were well rooted and ready
for someone else, someone less at risk, to plant out along the little stream
Aunt Izbel had brought up from underground. But none of that quite matched the
work she’d hoped to leave behind on this first trip home. She’d wanted to do so
much more for Far Terra.

“It’s all right, Ailsa,” Jathan said, following her gaze. “We’ll
be back.”

Ailsa nodded and turned back forward in her saddle. Time to
focus on the next task—getting them all across the desert and back across the
border as quickly as possible. She turned her heels in to encourage Diamond to
a trot. At least the desert wind was still strong. With any luck, it’d blow
away any trace of their passing before anyone knew to look for their trail.

By afternoon, she slowed their pace and rode beside Jathan,
who drooped in his saddle. They were on the Imperial Highway now, where it was
easy to ride abreast and Rishiart could take the lead of their little caravan.

“I thought you said the second time was easier,” he said
with a crooked smile at her solicitousness.

“It was for me.” She reached out to stroke his arm and sneak
just a touch of her magic into his vine. She didn’t seem to need to draw from
hers otherwise. “Maybe we just didn’t give you enough time to recuperate. I had
more than six months, you know.”

Rishiart reined his horse back to ride on the other side of
Jathan. “Are you going to be all right? We shouldn’t stop for long at the next
oasis, if you can make it. If this wind gets any stronger, it’ll blow up into a
real sandstorm.”

Ailsa looked around her. In her concern for Jathan, she hadn’t
paid much attention to the wind, though it whipped her braid across her face. “The
wind’s almost strong enough for that now.” She squinted into the gale. “And the
next oasis is one of the larger ones, where the coach stops. If there is going
to be a sandstorm, it’s probably the best place to wait it out.” She reached
out to Jathan again. “He’ll feel better, there. I did.”

Rishiart nodded grimly. “You’re right. I hate to lose our
chance to get away clean. Delay gives anyone with bad intentions a chance to plan
something, but I don’t think we have a choice.”

~

Jathan winked at Ailsa the next morning. “I think one of the
secrets to this is not to try crossing the whole desert at once. I feel lots
better this morning.”

Ailsa smiled. “I’m glad. It worked that way for me, too, the
first time. I’d always feel better at the oases, even if we only stopped to
change the horses.”

Jathan nodded and stroked the potted vine in its pouch on
his chest. “Green growing things. We green mages need them like everyone else
needs air.”

Rishiart turned to Ailsa. “So, why isn’t the desert
affecting you like it is Jathan? It can’t just be that you’ve crossed it once
before.”

“I don’t know,” Ailsa said. “The first time was almost as
bad for me. I don’t know why it’s different this time.”

“You don’t even mind this gods-forsaken wind,” Rishiart
said.

“No, I’ve always liked the desert wind, actually. I know
that’s strange.”

Jathan shuddered. “I’ll say. I think the wind makes it worse
for me. Like it’s sucking up what little life there is out here.”

Rishiart put his hands on his knees and stood up. “Let’s be
on our way. The sooner we get started, the sooner I can get you back to
Terranion. Then I have to turn around and go right back through this wind.”

Ailsa shook her head. “The wind will die down in another day
or two.”

“How do you know that?” Jathan asked.

Ailsa shrugged. “It never lasts much more than a week at
this time of year.”

“Good to know,” Rishiart said. “Mount up.”

Halfway to the next oasis, they crossed a stone bridge spanning
one of those ravines that cut down across the plateau to the killing-hot and
even more barren low desert. Just as they reached the other side, a dozen
mounted men boiled up from below the bridge. The cavalry guards, who’d been
hunkered down in their cloaks against the wind, didn’t have time to draw their
swords before they were surrounded.

Rishiart spurred his horse forward. “What’s the meaning of
this?”

Another rider pushed through the circle and looked the three
of them over.

Ailsa gasped in recognition. “Baron Mikel. What do you think
you’re doing?”

Baron Mikel smiled unpleasantly. “I would think that would
be obvious. Really, did you think styling yourself ‘Princess’ would protect
you? Or that we’d ever let you leave Far Terra? Not when you could be so very .
. . useful.” His gaze raked up and down Ailsa’s body in a very offensive way. “You
and your partner.” He looked between Jathan and Rishiart. “Which one was it
again? Ah, never mind. We’ll sort them out when we get you all back to my
estates.”

“You’ll never get away with this,” Rishiart said.

Baron Mikel smiled wider. “Oh, I think I will. You will all
have been tragically lost during a sandstorm.” His gesture took in the high desert
surrounding them. “There’s another one blowing up. It’ll cover all trace of
what happened here.” His eyes narrowed. “Take them.”

One of the riders pushed close and attempted to pull Ailsa
from her saddle. Before she could react, Diamond reared back and caught her
would-be abductor across the face with one of his hooves. Ailsa clung to her
saddle as Diamond immediately shifted to kick out at someone trying to come up
on her from behind. Apparently, he really had been trained as a war horse.

The others drew back out of reach of Diamond’s hooves. Ailsa
heard the hiss as Rishiart drew his sword. The cavalry guards’ swords cleared
their scabbards at almost the same instant. She turned to Jathan, to find him
clinging to his saddle, slightly askew. Either his horse had shied, or someone
had tried to pull him from his saddle. His eyes met hers.

“Ailsa, run! Diamond can outrun them.” Jathan croaked.

Not a chance.
She wasn’t about to leave him—or
Rishiart, come to that—to Baron Mikel’s not-so-tender mercies. There was no way
she was going to let Baron Mikel win, even temporarily. No, nor King Ewart,
either, because she was sure that Mikel wouldn’t have dared something like this
without Ewart’s implicit permission. She was done with that. Rage flooded her.
Blood pounded in her ears and her vision narrowed. Everything but her enemies
seemed to be obscured by a mist.

Their attackers’ horses shied as spines sprang from the
nearest cactus to stab them and their riders. There was nothing else she could
draw from the sparse vegetation. Ailsa instinctively reached for the only other
defensive magic she knew—the magic that had saved her once before. The
whirlwind.

It started at the outside of the circle of riders that
surrounded them. The cyclone fed on the power of the desert wind and grew
beyond anything Ailsa expected. She’d never made a whirlwind like this before
and she struggled to keep it from growing beyond her control. The center was
perfectly calm. In fact, even the persistent desert wind didn’t reach Ailsa and
her companions in the heart of the whirlwind. But everywhere around them was blowing,
sand-obscured chaos. Horses bolted either carrying their riders off with them
or throwing them to the ground. Within moments, the only attackers left nearby
were Baron Mikel and three of his henchmen, all lying on the ground with their
hands over their heads. With a sigh of relief, Ailsa let the whirlwind drop.