Hallowed Bond (Chronicles of Ylandre Book 2) (30 page)

Dylen shook his head. “So there is no way to charge him with this?”

“Only if we can force him to talk. And this is where things get interesting.” Laral leaned forward, his eyes aglitter with interest. “We tried to read him, Uncle and I. But his mind is protected by layer upon layer of shields.”

“Saints, is he so powerful then?” Dylen asked with consternation.

“Nay, we don’t think they are of his making. They were likely placed there by a skillful adept, if not a templar.”

Dylen was taken aback. “That is troubling. No templar would involve himself in murder and the sowing of mayhem.”

“Unless his loyalty to his sovereign exceeded his oaths of fidelity to the brotherhood

and its laws,” Laral pointed out. “We can’t discount that possibility. Even templars have their weaknesses.”

“I suppose that’s possible,” Dylen reluctantly conceded. “I shall have to report this to Tenryon Hadrana. He will want to discover him whoever this Deir is. The templars won’t risk harboring a renegade in their ranks.”

Laral nodded. “Do as you must. But in the meantime, we have Malkon to contend with. Unless he talks, the most we can charge him with is misconduct with regards to his dealings with Dimas. As for colluding with Jubal, all we have are suspicions. That isn’t enough cause to bring him to justice. And he is of royal lineage even if the Ferrendas no longer rule a realm.”

Dylen brought a clenched hand down hard on the tabletop. “Then we must get confirmation of those suspicions,” he growled. “Tell me what you can about these shields.”

“Uncle Amir believes that together we could breach them eventually,” Laral related.

“But he fears that the force of our attempt could break Malkon’s mind and render him useless for our purpose, which is to gain information. Furthermore, even if we managed to keep Malkon from losing his sanity, we would have to stay in his consciousness longer than is safe for us. We did consider asking one of the physicians to try for they can remain in Malkon’s mind long enough to extract the information. But none of them have the strength to take down the shields. They are different from anything I have encountered.”

Dylen fell silent for a space as he considered the risks and possibilities. “Perhaps I can be of help, Your Highness,” he softly said.

Despite his current straits, Malkon had lost none of his bombast or arrogance.
But
why should he when he’s obviously banking on the more lenient treatment accorded a
prince of the blood to save his pitiful hide,
Dylen thought with disgust Even if evidence against him was found, he could claim immunity from punishment by execution by dint of his royal heritage. Except in war, royalty did not kill fellow royalty as much from fear of setting a precedent that might prove fatal in the future as from an inherent reluctance to treat a peer like a common criminal. So the worst Malkon could expect even if found guilty of the charges brought against him was comfortable imprisonment or possibly exile from Asmara.

He and Laral had walked in on an interrogation conducted by Malkon’s own mate Sivar with the Shaja Amir and Captain Talvas in attendance. The interrogation seemed likely to go nowhere as all the other sessions had.

Malkon fumed, protested his treatment and refuted every accusation against him save one. And that one—his threats of reprisal against the unfortunate Dimas—he claimed to be no crime at all. He had been within his rights to regain what was owed him by whatever means necessary.

When Dylen came to Sivar’s side, the Ferrenda lord scowled and said, “What, is he going to question me, too? Sivar, you should know better than to allow some bastard half-breed the privilege!”

“Lord Dylen has every right to question you,” Sivar snapped. “His colleague is a victim of your family’s perfidy.”

Malkon sniggered. “You mean his lover,” he sneered. “Oh, I saw Leyhar’s face that night at dinner. He looked most murderous when Lord Dylen started to try and seduce me.”

Dylen lifted his eyebrows contemptuously. “
I
tried to seduce
you
?”

“And why not when you undoubtedly have the skill to loosen a Deir’s tongue by way of bedding him,” Malkon retorted, sidestepping the improbability of his earlier statement.

“Doubtless had the Ambassador not been present, you would have lured me between your sheets forthwith.”

Eyes narrowing, Dylen took a step forward. Malkon flashed him an insolent grin.

Dylen looked at him as a merlion might regard a flea. And then he suddenly smiled. But the smile was far from pleasant and did not reach his eyes

“I won’t deny it,” he said unexpectedly. “I would have buggered you senseless that night if it would have gained me the information I sought.” Ignoring Malkon’s startled expression, he bowed briefly to Sivar. “My apologies for such crude language, Your Highness,” he said. “But truth be told, I would have used every means at my disposal to get what was needed. Even if it meant bedding a Deir of little charm and even less beauty.”

“There! You see? He admits it!” Malkon bellowed, whether out of self-righteous rage or piqued pride it was difficult to say. “It is the Ylandrins who were contemplating treachery, not I!” he declared. “He would have had me cuckold you, Sivar, for his own purposes. If not for my great love for you—”

“Oh, do shut up, Mal!” Sivar sharply ordered. “You have the gall to play the innocent when we all know so well how you chased after every shapely arse you took a fancy to in Shenze!”

He turned to Dylen, uncaring of Malkon’s incredulous gape.

“You have my full consent to bugger him to death if need be,” Sivar said. “That is if you have the stomach for it.”

“Previously I did,” Dylen replied. “But not anymore. I would rather use other methods.” He looked at the Shaja. “I understand he is resistant to normal modes of interrogation,
Dyhar
.”

Amir inclined his head. “I’ve never personally encountered multiple shields before,”

he said. “But I do know what is needed to circumvent them. Force is out of the question.

Each time we break through one layer, we run the risk of damaging his mind bit by bit.”

“Making it impossible to retrieve information at all.”

“Exactly. The only way to get past such a defense is to locate each layer’s weakness and ease one’s self past them. But none among us possess the skill to do so. It is wholly the province of templars.”

Dylen eyed Malkon thoughtfully. The Ferrenda heir was smiling smugly once more.

It was his overweening demeanor that decided Dylen on his course of action once and for all.

“Perhaps not templars alone,” he softly said. “The Essendris of the direct line of descent are known to possess gifts beyond the ordinary.”

“Of the direct line,” Laral echoed. “Do you mean to say you have the skill for this?”

“I might,” Dylen averred. “And I may as well find out now.”

“Then you have our permission to test your skills on him,” Amir declared.

“What!” Malkon sprang to his feet. “Nay! I won’t allow this. You have no right—”

Talvas shoved him back onto his seat. “You have no say in the matter,” the captain told him, his voice hard and threatening. “I suggest you make it easier on yourself and be still!”

Dylen silently approached Malkon. In the instant before he placed his hands on either side of the Deir’s head, he saw fear spark in his eyes. Buoyed by that evidence of knowledge worth uncovering, he took a deep centering breath and took the plunge into the realm of another being’s consciousness.

Between one heartbeat and the next, he found himself in a wide hazy tunnel.

Darkness loomed before him, and he cautiously walked toward it. Several steps forward and he suddenly came up against a barrier the likes of which he had not seen before. It had no concrete form but was like an impenetrable black fog that shifted in every direction. It soared up to the apparent nothingness above and extended from one side of the tunnel to the other. There was no apparent opening in it. Dylen thrust a hand into the fog and touched something hard within. The barrier looked like a thick inky mist but felt like a solid unyielding wall.

He studied it closely. He knew he was seeing what either Malkon or whoever had created the shielding wished him to see. That made sense for how could anyone discover a way through this amorphous yet impermeable mass? But that it was confined to a space of definite dimensions indicated a limit to its creator’s skill.

Dylen hearkened back to his training under Rohyr and Tenryon. He would not abide the rules of this world. He would change them to suit his needs instead.

He focused on altering the very nature of the barrier, ridding it of its foggy exterior and turning it into something recognizable and therefore comprehensible.

At once he felt resistance. Malkon fought him fiercely, the strength of his desperation making up for what he lacked in talent and power.

Their battle for control manifested itself in a series of convulsions in the barrier. The entire mass trembled and shifted this way and that as if subject to the whims of a mighty wind. And from lightless black, the fog lightened to dark grey and then to storm blue only to darken once more to indigo.

Back and forth the barrier changed. Dylen wondered how much longer he could sustain his assault on it. And then, of a sudden, he heard an angry wail in the distance.

The fog shivered horrifically then seemed to collapse into itself. Suddenly, the violent heaving stopped, and the barrier solidified into a stone wall of an indeterminate shade of grey.

Dylen exhaled in relief. Malkon had given way. The barrier now appeared as Dylen desired it. For there was no wall in existence that could not be breached. And this wall would be no exception if he had anything to say about it.

He scanned it thoroughly, searching for any sign of weakness. He suddenly smiled.

Forcing the wall’s coloration to lighten further, he took a closer look at a section of it.

Tiny fissures had become visible thanks to the paler hue of the structure. Dylen reached out with his senses and swiftly deduced that he had found a spot in the wall that was not as solid as it appeared. It felt—hollow was the closest he could come to describing it. Indeed, he now discerned numerous areas that were as vulnerable. Small wonder the barrier had been cloaked in fog. The misty covering had made it harder to perceive its weaknesses.

Dylen placed a hand on the center of the network of fissures and firmly pushed

against it. The wall slowly gave way before the pressure. And then the whole section cracked and crumbled on its own accord. A gap opened in the wall large enough for Dylen to slip through.

As he stepped past the opening, the wall shuddered and groaned to eerie effect.

Though a cold shiver snaked its way up his spine, Dylen ignored the frightening sounds and forged on.

Another barrier soon loomed before him. Armed with the knowledge of his subduing of the first barrier, Dylen set to defeating this one as well. It did not prove as difficult nor did it take as long to locate its weak points. Dylen quickly selected one and soon passed through into the space beyond. And again he heard a howl of protest in his mind.

He did not bother to count the number of barriers he passed but concentrated on getting closer to his goal. Besides, he was beginning to tire. He could not afford to waste his strength on needless exercises.

The next barrier he confronted had a different feel to it. Not only did it transform fairly quickly, he sensed something like despair beyond it. He felt a jolt of elation. He knew he had reached his quarry.

To his surprise, he had hardly touched the wall when it gave way before him. He quickly clambered over the resulting rubble.

Several paces away, Malkon cowered like a cornered rodent. He stared at Dylen with a mixture of disbelief and terror. As Dylen got to his feet, the Ferrenda lord bleated out a frightened cry and turned on his heel to flee. Dylen raced after him. He caught up with Malkon, grabbed him by the collar and threw him down to the ground. He rolled Malkon onto his back and punched him hard enough to nigh break his nose. Dylen straddled the dazed Deir, hooking his ankles over his splayed legs and pinning his hands to the ground with a brutal grip on each wrist.

“Talk, treacherous dog,” he growled. “Did you force Dimas to delay approval of Ylandrin contracts?”

“I only suggested he pay me another way,” Malkon whimpered. “It’s no crime to ensure that he did.”

“By threatening the lives of his children?” Dylen scornfully said.

“It was my right! He owed me!”

“And so you drove that poor wretch to his death. You are truly vile, Malkon Ferrenda!”

“I’m not to blame for his actions. I’m no—!”

Dylen grabbed Malkon by the hair of his crown and slammed his head down hard enough to stop the latter’s blubbering.

“Who set those assassins on Laral?” he brusquely asked.

“You heard,” Malkon croaked. “My sire ordered it,”

“And you abetted it.”

“Nay! I had naught to do with it!”

“Liar! How did those knaves enter the palace grounds? Someone let them in and guided them to the pavilion!”

“It wasn’t I!” Malkon shook his head frantically. “I tell you I had naught to do with that!”

Amidst Malkon’s attempts to evade meeting his gaze, Dylen caught a glimpse of something in the Ferrenda lord’s eyes. It was enough.

“Of course!” he exclaimed. “They came in the guise of Terazan delegates!”

Malkon’s eyes bulged in shock.

“How did you kno—?” He gasped, horrified by his slip.

“If I investigate the visit of a rather large delegation from the Terazan embassy that day, what will I find, Malkon?” Dylen closed a hand around Malkon’s throat menacingly.

“That they never left the palace afterward? Indeed, will I find their discarded clothing hidden in your room?”

“You are insane! I hid nothing in—”

Dylen backhanded him into shutting up. He reached down and, ripping the crotch of Malkon’s trousers open, clenched his fingers cruelly around the Deir’s seed sac.

“They came to the palace at your summons, didn’t they?” he snarled. “Now tell me.