Harshini by Jennifer Fallon Page B

now the future High Princess of Hythria. That might stop him invading Hythria through Medalon come spring.
    Tarja smiled. Damin and Adrina were married. He wondered what R’shiel had threatened them with to make that happen.
    You must know by now that I killed the Karien prince and Lord Terbolt the morning after you tried to rescue me, so the Kariens will probably want my head even more now.
    We’ve arranged to meet you all in Krakandar. From Damin’s side of the border you’ll be able to plan retaking Medalon. The thousand men you have now is too few to do anything but annoy the Kariens, but with Hythrun help, we’ll make those Karien bastards pay for invading Medalon.
    Denjon is on our side, but be careful of Linst.
    R’shiel
    R’shiel had killed the Karien Crown Prince? Had she learnt nothing since their days in the rebellion? He read the letter again, wishing he could recall something—anything—of the past weeks. But Tarja’s memories stopped abruptly at the point where he had fallen in battle and there was nothing in the intervening period but a black, featureless abyss.
    Sitting around a small fire later that evening, Tarja got the rest of the story from Denjon and Linst. His head was reeling by the time they finished tellinghim of R’shiel’s confrontation with the Karien priests, of her abrupt decision to accept the legacy of her Harshini blood and everything else that had happened since then.
    They told him of the wound that almost killed him but could not explain either the absence of any evidence of the wound, or why he had lain unconscious for so long, other than they had instructions from R’shiel to restrain him for his own protection. Denjon spoke with awe of the demon-melded dragon that had taken Brak south, and of his uneasiness over the unknown fate of the Karien prisoners they had left behind.
    “So that’s about all there is to tell,” Denjon concluded with a shrug. “When Lord Wolfblade told us that Lord Jenga had ordered you to mount a resistance against the Kariens, and with Lord Terbolt and the Karien prince dead, it seemed prudent to follow the Lord Defender’s orders.”
    Tarja studied Denjon in the firelight. “I’m not sure he planned for us to flee to Hythria.”
    “We’re risking our necks for you, Tarja. A bit of gratitude wouldn’t go astray,” Linst grumbled.
    “You don’t sound very happy about this, Linst.”
    “ Happy ? Of course I’m not happy about it. But I’m even less happy about taking orders from those Karien bastards, so here I am, ready to fight alongside a thousand other deserters. You know, Tarja, until you came along, nobody even thought of breaking their Defenders’ oath. Now it’s a bloody epidemic.” He threw the remains of his stew onto the fire and stood up. “I have to check the sentries, although why we cling to Defender discipline is beyond me. It’s notas if we’re ever likely to be welcomed back into the Corps, is it?”
    He stalked off into the darkness, leaving Tarja and Denjon staring after him.
    “He always was a stickler for the rules,” Denjon remarked in the uncomfortable silence that followed.
    “How many of the others feel like him?”
    “Quite a few,” Denjon replied. “He’s right about one thing, though. It isn’t easy for a Defender to walk away from his oath.”
    “I never asked you to follow me, Denjon.”
    The captain laughed humourlessly. “No, you didn’t. But R’shiel set half the camp on fire just by waving her arm around, then turned on us, bursting with Harshini power and asked us what we were planning to do. Taking your side seemed the prudent thing to do at the time.”
    He frowned. Something else bothered him about R’shiel, some feeling or emotion he could not place. A vague uneasiness that lingered on the edge of his mind, just out of reach.
    “So, how far are we from Testra? That is where you’re planning to cross the river, isn’t it?”
    Denjon nodded. “Less than a week. Now you’re up