Through the Veil (35 page)

But she did have a loyalty to Kalen. Though she had been in his world such a short time, so much of it felt familiar and she had memories of this place dating back to her childhood. If going with this strange, terrifying stranger would end the war between these worlds, what true choice did she have?

You can’t trust him.
That internal voice urged her to go to Morne, hide behind him and let him handle this—more, she wanted to call for Kalen. Wanted to feel his arms around her and snuggle against him. She’d feel a bit safer for it.

But there was also a part of her that did recognize some part of the Warlord. His words echoed with truth, and she knew he meant every word he said. Was it naive of her to think he would do as he said when his kind was responsible for so many deaths? Lee didn’t know. She only knew that she believed him. Completely.

Slowly, Lee lowered her hands and looked at Morne. He had moved closer, aligning himself at her shoulder, and as their gazes locked, he edged in. It was a minute, instinctive moment, but she knew exactly what he was doing. Blockingher from the man who stood at the gate. “I don’t have any choice, Morne.”

Under that weird mask, she couldn’t make out any expression on Morne’s face. Nothing save his eyes. “In a way, Lelia, you are right. In this, you have no choice.” He reached up, touching his fingers to her brow.

If she had known him a little better, the queer note in his voice might have warned her. But Lee was totally unprepared for the onslaught of power that struck her. It swarmed out of Morne and flooded her entire being in a matter of heartbeats. It wrapped itself around her mind, and before she could even form a single thought, her vision went dark and she slumped forward.

Morne caught her weight and lifted her in his arms before she could collapse to the ground. He slid the man standing at the gate a narrow look. He knew the man and wasn’t surprised to see that the Warlord had already drawn his blade. “You do not wish to pursue this, Warlord. It will not go well for you.”

“I’ll gut you where you stand, you daft, offworld bastard. She isn’t safe there. You have no idea how to train her, how to deal with her. She barely even understands her magick.”

Behind the concealing material of his mask, Morne smiled. “She understands better than you think. And if you think safe is a fair trade in exchange for freedom, you do not know women at all.”

“I could care less about
women
.” He lifted his blade and made as if to cross the gate. “Just her.”

Morne grinned. “Have you a Sirvani anchoring the gate for your passage, Warlord? If you think I would hand her over to you without a fight, then you’re the daft fool. You want her, you will have to cut me down to get her—and all of the men who even now rush to her side. With no Sirvani anchoring the gate for you, have you the time before it falters and becomes unstable? Harder to erect the gate on this side of the Veil.”

“Know so much about the gates, do you?” The Warlord paused, his eyes narrowed and thoughtful.

Morne shrugged. Obliquely, he replied, “You learn much of your enemy during war.” Off in the distance, he heard the disturbance as Kalen’s troops drew closer. “Time runs short for you, Warlord. What is it going to be?”

As though he, too, heard the men approaching, the Warlord eased back. He lifted the blade and held it point out, level with Morne’s throat. “You will die for this, offworlder. I’ll see to it.”

The gate vanished abruptly. Under his breath, Morne muttered, “I have little doubt of that.”

He turned his head just in time to see Kalen burst through the trees. Kalen saw Lee in Morne’s arms and closed the distance between them. He grabbed Lee, and Morne let him, falling away as Kalen buried his face in Lee’s disheveled hair. “What happened?” Kalen asked, his voice muffled.

Morne lied. It was easy, after all. He had been doing it for years and years. “I’m not sure. I felt the Veil, and as I came to investigate, the Warlord lifted the gate. He was trying to coerce Lee into coming with him.”

“Coerce, how?”

He lifted his hands to the mask that hid his features. Instead of pushing the fabric down and away from his face, he pulled the mask away completely. As he carefully and precisely folded the material, he replied, “That is something you would have to ask your mate, Kalen. I do not know what she was thinking.” That much at least was truth. No matter what the Warlord had told Lee, she shouldn’t have been so willing to give up her freedom. Her life. She’d already given up much to help people she still didn’t truly know. Giving up more was a price no woman should have to pay.

That she had been willing to do so only made her that much more confusing.
Fool woman,
he thought darkly. Looking up, he found Kalen staring at him with troubled, angry eyes. “Watch her well, my friend. I knew they would want her, but I did not foresee a Warlord lying in wait in the forest for her.”

He hadn’t, and it was nothing short of a miracle that Morne had arrived before she had gone near enough to the gate that the Warlord could have reached out and grabbed her. Morne had been this close to failing. He didn’t allow for failure. It just wasn’t in his makeup. “Watch her well,” he repeated and then he turned on his heel and walked away. As the forest closed up behind him, he heard Kalen barking out orders.

Lee wasn’t going to be going anywhere without an escort, and Morne only hoped that would deter her long enough for him to figure out what to do now. Keeping her from the Warlord was going to be damn hard when she was so damned eager to get herself captured.

Kalen’s men closed ranks around him, weapons powered up and ready. As they left the area, there was a slight rustle off to the side. For a brief moment, a face appeared in the tangled vines and greenery. Eyes narrowed and a smile came and went. Then he retreated.

“Bleeding hells.”

Char stood at the outskirts, listening as his men prepared for tomorrow. There would be no more delays. No attempts to reason with his daughter and convince her there needn’t be any more deaths.

He would let a thousand offworlders die, and a thousand of his own people, before he risked harm coming to her, and the longer she was outside of his protection, the bigger the risk. That ripe, wild power in her had called out to him like a beacon, and sooner or later, some of his men would sense it as well.

If it was a man who was less than loyal to Char, then the Daisha would be in danger.

He heard Arnon’s footsteps and turned his head, watching as his man approached. Arnon’s hairless scalp gleamed under the flickering light of the torches, and his dark eyes seemed more inscrutable than normal.

“The men await tomorrow anxiously, my lord.”

Char didn’t turn away from his study of the gate. It stood off in the distance, towering into the sky a few hundred lengths away from the camp. They couldn’t settle too closely to it. The gate’s powers were greedy, and lingering too close for long periods of time was a risk.

The gate could completely drain those around him, and the camp would be little more than a huge, walking feast. Both Sirvani and Warlord served under Char, and a good many of the Sirvani had magick talents or healing talents as well as the ability to look through the Veil. Safer all around to keep his men a good distance away.

He stood there staring at the gate and tried to battle the unease curling through him. It was more than just his fury over his interrupted attempt to bring his daughter to him, more than just his rage at the man who had dared to interrupt. Whoever the offworld bastard was, he was going to die very shortly.

It was more than that, though. Death was all around him. It hung in the air, but Char couldn’t tell whose death he sensed. This close to the gate, its power seemed to cloud everything, even the ugly maw of death.

Distracted, he forgot that Arnon still awaited an answer, until the Sirvani murmured quietly, “My lord?”

Char glanced at Arnon. The Sirvani’s gaze was dark and unreadable, and he looked as calm as though he were discussing the weather, instead of the most important raid of their time. “You will maintain order while I am gone, Arnon.”

“Indeed.” Arnon’s lids flickered and a small smile danced around his lips. “You would be interested to know that I received some news while you were away.”

Any man other than Arnon and Char would have dismissed him. No news save that of his daughter or his uncle interested him. However, Arnon would know this. The man seemed to know everything. “What news?”

The smile on Arnon’s face broadened. “From my cousin, Weyr.”

Weyr was a healer—more importantly, he was one of the few healers that Taise would allow near him. He would allow no healing magicks, but he would tolerate the occasional tonic or elixir from a select few, provided the High Lord oversaw its preparation. Weyr was one of those select few. “And how fares Weyr this morn?”

“Busy at the High Lord’s side. The most honored one has had a brain storm—minor, but there was a second one past midnight. He refused to send word, however.”

Unsurprising. Stroked out and on his sickbed, the old man was likely more paranoid than ever before. “That is interesting news.” Char looked back to the gate one more time.

The power was as intense as ever, but it was no longer the strong, steady pulse it had once been. Each time they raised the gate, it became more and more unstable, starting with gatestorms that lasted longer and longer.

The gates were stable now, and they’d stay that way even when the Sirvani lowered them again. But the next time they rose, Char had a feeling it would be the last. The previous gatestorm had been the strongest Char had ever witnessed, spilling back from Ishtan into Anqar with brutal intensity.

Time was running out. He glanced at Arnon and asked, “The Sirvani supporting the gate, how are they?”

Arnon bowed his head. “Steady, Warlord.”

“Make sure they are spelled often. If they feel weary, get another Sirvani in place. I do not want the gate to so much as flicker.” Maintaining the gates was an unimaginative but exhausting task. The Warlords themselves raised the gate, but maintaining the energy required far less skill and concentration, so that task fell to the Sirvani. While it didn’t require as much strength or such a connection with the gates, it was tiring as hell. As such, it was a chore that was divided equally between teams of Sirvani.

This particular raid was turning into the longest one ever, and Char wouldn’t let the Sirvani lower the gate until it was completely done. When he returned with his daughter, he’d let them lower the gate. If it was raised again, Char would make damn sure he was far away when it happened, because it wasn’t going to be a pleasant event. Images of what happened at the Surachi Gate came to mind. No, Char wasn’t going to be in the middle of a disaster like that, not if he could help it.

As if the gate sensed the direction of his thoughts, Char felt a nasty surge in its power. One of the Sirvani responded immediately, reaching out with a deft, unseen hand and drawing the power back inside the gate. A talented man, that one. Char made note of his face automatically.

Then he skimmed a gaze over the encampment. Thousands of Sirvani and Warlords had turned out for this one. A force to be reckoned with. “I trust you have heard no dissent regarding my orders last night?”

Arnon shrugged. “Not more than I expected. A few will always grumble when they are told no women are to be touched until they are presented to you.” He paused and then slowly added, “However, have you considered explaining why?”

Char snorted. “And risk word getting back to the High Lord? Or worse, some of my rivals? There are many who would sacrifice much to take my place, including the assassination of a Daisha.” Crimes against a Daisha were punished severely, as Daishan were too rare and too precious. But the protection of a Daisha fell to the father, or her mate, and if that Warlord failed to protect her, he was also punished. Char had paid dearly when his daughter had first gone missing, and over the years there had been subtle, and not so subtle, comments about his failure to protect his child. She had been long since assumed dead, and many voiced their disgruntlement that Taise had refused to replace Char as his successor.

With the High Lord’s failing health, Char was in a precarious position. None must suspect that his daughter still lived. Not until Char had brought her home and taken her back into his protection. If any knew, her safety, her status, even her life were at risk.

“I chose your most loyal men, my lord.” Arnon looked out over the masses gathered throughout the encampment. “Each squadron leader is a man I know and would trust implicitly. It’s a hard task before you. You do not even know where to start looking.” Arnon’s lids flickered and he opened his mouth, but closed it without saying anything.

Char didn’t bother to correct Arnon’s mistaken assumption. None need know that Char has already seen his daughter. None need know that he had been just a few heartbeats from having her back under his protection.

By the Veil, she was lovely. She had the look of her mother, though her hair and eyes had clearly come from the Anqarian blood flowing through her veins. Her mother’s temper as well, he mused as he recalled the way her temper flared and she sent power hurtling toward the gate.

Better off she was going to be, once Char had her safely in her homeworld. Those offworld buffoons hadn’t taught her enough for her to realize just how dangerous her actions had been. Fear had frozen him for the briefest second, yet at the same time, he’d been oddly proud. His child showed no fear. She had known what he was, who he was, and what a danger he presented. He’d sensed the fear inside her, but she hadn’t let it show, nor had she let it control her.

Pleased, he smiled.
We did well with her, Neve.
It saddened him, though, to realize that the fiery, brave woman he had taken as his mate had been dead all these years. He knew little of tender emotions, yet what little experience he had had come from his brief time with Neve. He knew she had felt little for him beyond reluctant desire, but it had bothered him only a bit.