Harshini by Jennifer Fallon Page A

understand how he came to be there. Nor did it make any sense that he was obviously moving. The wagon jolted beneath him, hitting a bump in the road and he cried out as his head slammed into the wagon bed.
    “I think he’s awake.”
    Tarja was confronted by the odd spectre of a strange bearded face he didn’t recognise, which stared at him from the wagon seat. He struggled to sit up, but the ropes hampered his movement. The wagon halted and the man swung his legs around and squatted down beside Tarja, staring at him with concern.
    “Captain? Sir? Do you know where you are?”
    “Of course I don’t know where I am,” Tarja croaked. All he could see was a leaden sky, the sides of the wagon and the face of the Defender bending over him. His voice was hoarse and he was thirsty enough to drink a well dry. “Water. Get me water.”
    The trooper hurried to fetch a water skin. Tarja coughed as cold water spilled down his parched throat.
    “Am I a prisoner?” he asked.
    “Not that they’ve told me, sir.”
    “Then why the ropes?”
    “Oh! Them? That was to stop you hurting yourself, sir. Soon as Cap’n Denjon gets here, we can untie you.”
    “Denjon? Denjon is here?”
    “Yes, he’s here.” Tarja turned to the new voice and peered at the familiar face studying him over the side of the wagon. Denjon grinned at him. “Welcome back.”
    “What’s happened? Where are we? Where’s—”
    “Slow down, Tarja,” Denjon cut in. “Untie him, Corporal.”
    The trooper did as he was ordered and quickly released the ropes that bound him. Tarja tried to sit up, appalled at the effort it took. He glanced around and was astonished to discover himself in the midst of a Defender column that snaked in front and behind the wagon as far as he could see. He didn’t recognise the countryside around him. They were no longer on the undulating grasslands of the north, but advancing through the lightly wooded plateau of central Medalon. The Sanctuary Mountains loomed too close to the west. Tarja shook his head in confusion.
    “How are you feeling?”
    “Weak as a kitten,” Tarja confessed. “And completely lost. What’s happened?”
    “I’ll explain what I can, but one thing at a time. We’re about to make camp for the night. I’ll fill you in over dinner.”
    “Where’s R’shiel?”
    Denjon shrugged. “On her way to Hythria, as are we, my friend. Which reminds me. She gave me this before she left.” He reached into his red jacket and withdrew a sealed letter. “She said I should give it to you when you woke up. It might explain a few things.”
    He handed the letter to Tarja and remounted his horse, shouting an order to make camp as he cantered off. Tarja broke the seal on the letter anxiously, hoping the contents would throw some light on the confusion threatening to overwhelm him. He vaguely remembered a battle. He must have dreamt he had taken a sword in the belly, but nothing explained what he was doing tied to a wagon under an open sky, surrounded by Defenders.
    The letter was written in R’shiel’s impatient scrawl.
    Tarja , it began without preamble. If you are reading this, it means you survived. You were wounded trying to help me, and I tried to save your life. The Harshini part of me helped heal your wound, and the demons should do the rest. Brak says they’ll leave you when you’re well.
    He read the paragraph twice. Most of what she had written made no sense. He had been wounded, it seemed, and she had used her magic to heal him. He could not understand the part about the demons, though. Shaking his head, he read on.
    I have gone on ahead to Hythria with Damin and Adrina. I want their marriage to bring peace to the south, but I must support Damin in Hythria. I might learn about my destiny there, too. I’ll explain why it’s so important when I see you. Founders, how I hatebeing the demon child! I wish I could have stayed with you…
    I sent Brak to Fardohnya to tell King Hablet that his daughter is