THE SHADOWLORD (19 page)

The Diabolusian leaned against a rock and regarded her. "Did the innkeeper tell you people were murdered in Uadjit that day?"

"He said one-fourth of the men were taken to the dungeon at Abbadon and a fourth of the girls were sent to a convent. He said nothing of killings."

"Six people were hanged in the courtyard. One an hour from nine of the clock until two that afternoon. Three men and three women."

"What had they done?"

"Nothing. They were picked at random and summarily executed."

"There had to be a reason they were killed."

"The Tribunal had come looking for Jaelan, and were convinced the people of Uadjit were hiding him there." He made a disgusted sound. "As if they would!"

"He had run away?"

Aluino nodded. "And wasn't anywhere near the village. He was in Dahrenia."

"But the Tribunal didn't believe the people."

"They sacked the place, tore everything apart. When they didn't find him, they rounded up the handsomest young men and the prettiest young women and herded them to Abbadon. When Jael heard what had happened, he went to Abbadon and turned himself in to the Tribunal. He honestly believed the Tribunal would let the villagers go."

"But they didn't."

"He should have known they wouldn't. But he is an honorable man, and he was an honorable boy. He did what he thought was right but, true to form, the villagers hated him all the more."

"Why did he run away in the first place?"

Aluino let out a long breath. "Gehenna ordered him to the Abbey of the Domination for
additional
training. Rather than allow that pervert to lay hands to him, he ran."

"What happened when he returned?"

The Diabolusian stretched out, the warm fire making his eyelids heavy. "Gehenna is the Prelate of Justice. What do you think happened?"

"The warrior was punished."

Aluino nodded, folding his arms over his chest and closing his eyes. "Strung up like a piece of meat and whipped by Gehenna, himself."

"No wonder the warrior hates the man."

"Why do you not use his given name, wench? After all, he is your husband." He sniffed. "Your
mate
."

"Why does what I call my husband concern you, Vasquez?"

"What did he promise you for the dubious honor of having your deadly little hand in Joining? Did he vow to help free your sister from the seraglio?"

Aradia glared at him. "What if he did?"

Aluino's smile turned spiteful. "That would explain why you agreed to be his mate. It had to be something of vast importance for you to subject yourself to his pawing."

She put shrillness to her words. "Do you think so little of him, think him so unworthy of a woman's affections?"

Aluino's mouth twisted. "Jaelan is my friend as well as my commander. I hold him in the highest esteem, wench!"

"Really?" Aradia sneered. "Is that why you insult him by thinking I would have him only to gain something from him?"

"Isn't that the way of it? Or will you boldly lie by saying it was for love that you willingly became his wife?"

"My reasons are my own, you Diabolusian warthog!"

"You are using him to get what you want--just like you used Prince..."

"Leave her alone, 'Lui," the Shadowlord ordered, his tone brooking no argument. He turned over, and his amber eyes gleamed with anger. He held a hand out to his wife. "Come, wench. The air's turning colder."

Aradia cast Aluino an odd look, then lay beside Jaelan. He spooned his body to hers, his arms enfolding her. His warm breath teased the wisps of hair at her neck and sent shivers down her spine.

"Is your headache better?" she asked.

"A little."

"Do you have such headaches often?"

"I get them periodically. I was overdue."

"Is there anything I can do?"

"You are doing it already," he said, placing a light kiss on her shoulder.

"I'm sorry our bickering woke you," she said in a contrite tone.

"So am I."

Aradia felt comfortable in her warrior's arms. His body heat warmed her, and the press of his muscular body relaxed her. She looked at his arms and saw faint scars nestled among the dark hair covering his flesh.

"Go to sleep and stop wondering from whence they came," he said.

"Stop reading my thoughts, Shadowlord," she returned.

He surprised her by chuckling softly, his arms tightening around her. She knew the moment he returned to sleep, his deep, even breathing would lull her into the realm of Morpheus along with him.

Aluino lay awake for long time, staring at the smoke wafting from the campfire. He listened to the horses, to Jaelan's light snoring, to the pop of the flames. He shifted from side to side, trying to find some comfort in the coarse wool blanket on which he lay. He scratched; he belched; he farted. He threaded his fingers together and cracked his knuckles, then twiddled his thumbs as his thoughts drifted back to the Amazeen lying in Ben-Ashaman's arms.

"Who are you? And what is it you
really
want with my friend?" Turning his head, he speared the sleeping woman with a steely stare. "You are pretty enough," he said in a grudging tone, then amended the thought. "Beautiful, actually."

His stare shifted to what he could see of Jaelan's face, half-hidden behind the Amazeen's shoulder. "And why have you done this, my friend?" Why risk what you know Gehenna and Jahannum are going to do once they hear of you taking a woman in Joining?"

Long into the twilight hours, Aluino entertained first one theory then another, trying to reason why either Shadowlord or Amazeen had entered into their demons' bargains.

"He promised to help you free the blonde, but what did you promise him?" Aluino asked. "What infernal vow did you make to snare a man unwilling to be snared?"

At first light, Jaelan woke his wife and friend. The pinched look on his face told that his headache had stayed with him. Despite Aradia's insistence that they stay until he felt better, they saddled the horses and continued toward Abbadon.

Low flying clouds rode on a brisk wind in the sharp gunmetal-gray sky. With no provisions for breaking their fast, the trio felt hungry, and Aluino's stomach loudly protested the lack of food

"What I wouldn't give for a dish of mangos in cream," he sighed.

"Mangos," Aradia repeated. "I love mangos."

"The nectar of the gods is a ripe, sweet mango floating in a dish of fresh cream."

"Aye." Aradia exchanged the first civil look with her husband's friend.

"Riders," Jaelan said.

Aluino frowned. "Temple guards?"

"Looks that way," Jaelan replied.

Aradia tensed. She had heard terrible things about the Rysalian Temple guards, their brutality and unchecked power legendary. Known as Warriors of the Abyss, the guard at Abbadon had a harsher, more devastating reputation than their governmental counterparts elsewhere in the vast country.

"They're after you," Aluino said.

Aradia flinched. Her hand went to the empty sheath at her thigh. "Give me my weapon," she demanded of Jaelan.

"You won't need it."

"If I am to protect you--"

"I don't need protecting." Jaelan kicked his horse forward. "Stay here."

Aradia would have followed, but Aluino grabbed her mount's reins. When she snarled, he shook his head.

"Let him handle it. The last thing he needs is a woman making war noises to a Temple guard. He'd be obliged to chastise you in front of them. Is that what you want?"

She tried to snatch her reins from the Diabolusian, but he kept firm possession of them. "I'm not about to let them hurt my man!"

"They won't. Most likely, the King sent them when Jaelan failed to returned yestermorn as expected. If nothing else, Hasani looks out after his investments, and to him, Jael is worth more than any other warrior."

Biting her lip and experiencing a great desire to leap across her mount and attack the Diabolusian to gain control of the reins, Aradia turned toward the oncoming riders. Jaelan had ridden a few hundred years ahead, and waited with his hands crossed over the pommel. With his back straight, his dark hair blowing in the breeze, he presented a compelling picture to Aradia.

"What did you promise him, wench?" Aluino prodded.

Annoyed and angered at the invasion of her privacy, Aradia ground her teeth. "Ask him. If he wants you to know, he'll tell you!"

Shrugging, Aluino released her reins. "Go on. Make a fool of yourself. See what the Shadowlord does." Controlling a mount that sidestepped at its owner's harsh tone, the Diabolusian sniffed. "Maybe he'll beat you only a little black and blue for interfering."

Caught between wanting to protect her husband and doing as he had ordered, Aradia bit her tongue to keep from cursing Vasquez. She ignored him, pretending he was not within striking distance and knowing he'd no more allow her to race after Jaelan than he would permit her to hurt his friend.

"Smart woman," Aluino said grudgingly.

Jaelan relaxed as he shifted his
hearing
from Aluino and Aradia to the approaching Temple guards. He knew 'Lui would keep the wench from leaping into trouble, and he was relieved to know she was not so hotheaded that she would ignore her own safety to assure his. With his Shadowlord ability trained on the Temple guard, he
heard
a voice telling the others to be careful of their thoughts. A muscle in Jaelan's jaw bunched as he recognized the gruff tones of Sekhem Neter.

"Is that a woman with the greaser?" a guard asked.

"It looks that way," Neter answered. "Perhaps she is a gift for the King."

The Shadowlord went rigid at such a vile suggestion. The thought of Hasani laying hands to Aradia sent a red-hot fog of fury coursing over him. His hands tightened on the pommel and his eyes narrowed. When the guards reached him, the deadly set of his face brought them up short.

"Greetings, Lord Jaelan." Sekhem held up a hand to halt his troupe. "The King was concerned for your well-being, Milord. He sent us to find you and escort you to the fortress."

"Since when do I need an escort, Neter?"

A false smile shifted across the man's thick lips. "I am sure His Majesty thought you had become lost. Such as the time you were waylaid in Dahrenia." After a brief pause, he added, "Milord."

Clenching his teeth to the intended insult, Jaelan nostrils flared. He hated Sekhem Neter almost as much as he hated the man's perverted masters. Before he could stop himself, he used the ability with which he'd been born and which the Magi who had trained him through childhood had finely tuned.

One moment, Neter sat arrogantly astride his stallion, the next he flew through the air, thrown by unseen hands that had plucked him off his mount to dash him into the sand. He rolled on the ground, his body arching and flexing to the invisible kicks and hits that pummeled him. Blood spurted from his mouth and nose, and bruises began to show on the exposed parts of his skin.

"Jaelan, please stop
..."

Jaelan
heard
his wife's soft request and allowed the paranormal hold he had on Neter to vanish. He twisted in the saddle, looked back at Aradia, then turned to speak to the second-in-charge.

"Put your captain on his horse and get the hell back to Abbadon as quickly as your mounts will travel. I will be there shortly."

"Aye, Milord!" the second-in-charge said. He motioned for two younger guards to retrieve Neter.

Jaelan barely glanced at his wife as she reined in her mount beside him. The guards easing an unconscious Neter across the back of his horse riveted his attention. "It was something the bastard said," Jaelan said in defense.

"No doubt, warrior," Aradia replied, "but killing him would have caused problems for you, and I care not to have my husband sleeping in prison instead of sleeping beside me in our bed this night."

"Who said we were going to sleep?"

"You intend on keeping me awake?" Aradia inquired.

"For all intents and purposes, this is our Joining night," he quipped. "No, wench. Sleeping was not high on my agenda of things to do."

"I don't need to hear this," Aluino grumbled and slapped his reins against his horse's shoulder. The beast sprang forward, obviously eager to run.

"He's jealous," Aradia pronounced.

Jaelan smiled. "I believe he is."

One look at the fortress of Abbadon chilled Aradia to the marrow, as it did all who viewed the vast structure for the first time. Perched atop a steeply inclined plateau with only a slender serpentine trail wide enough to accommodate one horse at a time, the fortress would be almost impossible for a force to breech its defenses. Rising seven levels, sheer, black granite walls soared more than one hundred feet straight up. Small oval arrow slits served as windows. Slanted downward, the openings, lined around the perimeter with sharp barb spikes, began on the third level. Though the ventilation openings also ran the perimeter on the fourth, fifth, and sixth floors, the seventh floor boasted a large window, its surface covered with intricately wrought iron bars.

"You can't tell from here, but those bars are a foot in breadth and embedded in twelve-foot-thick reinforced granite walls," Jaelan said. "On the lower levels, eight-foot-thick timbers are lined side by side behind another three feet of plaster as added protection against attack."

"They're serious about their privacy," Aluino quipped.

"What of the roof?" Aradia asked. "Is it vulnerable to fire arrows?"

Jaelan shook his head. "There're steel plates pressed between nine layers of four-foot-thick timber and braced with stone arches. There's nothing to catch on fire. The inside walls are lined with iron plate, then plastered."

"With only one entrance, and that not even opening wide enough to allow an overly fat man to squeeze through, the fortress is nearly invulnerable to marauders," Aluino remarked.

"The key word is 'nearly,'" Jaelan remarked. "No fortress is ever completely infallible."

"Abbadon is close enough," Aluino defended.

The closer Aradia came to Abbadon, the more unnerved she felt. The hair stood up on the back of her neck when she took in the shiny double doors that kept insiders locked in. In the early morning sunlight, the doors gleamed with a malevolence that set her teeth on edge.