The Deadwalk (7 page)

The thought occurred to Nhaille as well, for his eyes narrowed. But he said
evenly, “The Sword of Zal-Azaar is nothing more than an entertaining myth.”

“Really? Then what were you and the Queen doing in the middle of the
desert?”

“Fleeing Kanarek.”

“Neither of you were in Kanarek when it fell. I know. I counted the bodies of
the Khun-Caryn clan myself.”

Riordan ground her teeth together. “When I get my hands on you, Prince, I'll
dissect you slowly, oh so slowly. I'll make you suffer for a very long
time.”

Rau laughed. A flat echoless sound, lost in the desert wind. “I shall look
forward to your hands upon me.”

Only the sword at her neck stopped her from spitting in his face.

“Wave goodbye, Captain.” Rau dragged her backward.

Nhaille took a step away, holding up his hands in a sign of defeat. Through
her good eye, Riordan caught a glimpse of his anguished expression. She wanted
to call out to him, to tell him to end it all now, but she knew he would never
do anything to harm her.

And as long as I'm still alive, I've got a chance at Rau.

With the blade of his sword still pressed against her throat, he hauled her
with him to his horse. He tossed the saddle at her feet. Holding her by the
hair, his sword still at the ready, he ordered her to put it on.

“Don't even think of it,” Rau said as Nhaille took a step toward them. “If
you're smart, you'll say your farewells now.”

“If you're not going to kill him, Nhaille,” Riordan said, wanting only to get
him out of harm's way. There'd be time to deal with Rau later. “Just do as he
says.”

“That's right, Captain. Turn around and start walking in the other direction.
Keep walking until the sun comes up.” He yanked Riordan toward him until their
heads touched. “If I catch you following us, I will kill her immediately. Do you
understand?”

Nhaille nodded grimly. With a last pleading look at Riordan, he turned and
walked away into the darkness.

#

Trussed like a turkey, bound hand and foot, Riordan lay slung over Rau's
horse and wished wholeheartedly for a moment when each step the animal took
didn't knife into her ribs. Her left eye had long since swollen completely shut
and the world swayed lopsidedly beneath her. Sweat stung the wound and the
blowing sand only added to her misery. After two days under the blistering sun,
she smelled only marginally better than Rau's horse.

Suddenly the world slid sideways. She hit the ground hard.

Thunk!

Riordan sprawled unceremoniously on the hard ground. Staring up through one
eye at Rau's dark shape silhouetted against the sun, she realized she'd fallen
asleep.

He kicked at her side. “Get up.”

Making a scoop of her bound hands, she caught the edge of his boot and
toppled him backward.

Rau hit the ground with a curse. Riordan scrambled awkwardly to her feet. In
a zig-zagging hop, she raced for the abandoned horse.

He snagged her hair, yanking her backward.

“Just full of spunk, aren't you?”

She spat at him.

“Well, Your Majesty. Were I you, I'd save my strength.”

Riordan answered him with a head-butt to the stomach.

With a vehement curse, Rau doubled up on the ground. Despite the pain, he
refused to lessen his grip on her hair, and after a few more unsuccessful
attempts to wrestle from his grasp, she sagged to the ground beside him.

“You Khun-Caryns have fire for blood,” he said with grudging admiration.

“And you, Haelian scum, are lower than a snake.”

Doubling over again, Rau laughed despite his wounded stomach. “Were the
situation different, I might actually like you.”

Riordan offered him her finest glare. “Were the situation different, I would
kill you, Your Highness. Mark my words.”

He sobered then. Casting a glance at her, disheveled and panting with anger,
he snorted. “I must say, you've looked better, Your Majesty.”

“How in Hells would you know? No one's ever seen me.”

“You were rumored to be very beautiful.”

“Until I got a burning coal in the eye.”

For a moment, Rau looked almost remorseful. “I doubt the damage is
permanent.”

Riordan shrugged. “No matter. I need only live long enough to kill you.”

“Do you think of nothing else?”

“No.”

Rau sighed. “Then I guess we have nothing to discuss.”

“On the contrary.” Riordan turned her good eye to face him. Under other
circumstances she might have considered him handsome, but there was an intensity
to his gaze that betrayed the madness hovering just below the surface. “I should
dearly like to know what it is that drives a man to level an entire kingdom.
What twisted ugliness inside motivates someone to defile the bodies of our dead?
What breeds such wickedness? An unhappy childhood? Or were you born that
way?”

“Enough!” Madness bubbled to the surface. He yanked her to her feet. “I was
willing to be merciful and offer you a moment's rest. But I've changed my mind.
Wouldn't want your loyal subject, the late Captain Nhaille to come sneaking up
on us.” He shoved her toward his horse. “Be thankful you are riding. I could
just as easily drag you along behind me.”

Once again slung over the saddle, Riordan craned her head for a view of the
horizon. Instead of the predictable featureless sky, a thin line of purple
became visible.

The magenta mountains. At last.

Now would be a good time to begin formulating a plan. A vague memory of
running through crystal corridors flashed through her mind. Was the vision
destiny in waiting. Or merely one of the many cruel outcomes fate had yet to
decide for her?

Riordan cast a glance behind them. Are you still there, Nhaille? What would
you do in my place?

But there was only the endless wind and the shifting sand to answer her.

Nhaille would never have gone to Kanarek, her conscience whispered. Nhaille
would have died for Kanarek's revenge. And she’d thrown the best of his
intentions to the wind.

Don't you worry, she told the quiet desert. I'll find a way out of this. I'll
find a way to fix it all. Somehow.

#

When he found her, he would throttle her within an inch of her life. And then
he would bury his face in her hair and weep with gratitude.

Nhaille swore loud and long. No one could hear him over the ceaseless wind.
Somehow it didn't make it any better. He had only to glance back at Riordan's
riderless horse that trotted obediently behind him to feel a pang of unbearable
remorse.

“Nineteen years!” he roared into the wind. “Nineteen years of watching and
waiting. Not even five days on the road and all is lost.”

Gods above, he'd spent all those years teaching her obligation, concern for
others. And she'd thrown it all away, worrying about him.

“Why didn't I teach her selfishness?”

Images of what a madman like Rau could do to a young woman naive in the ways
of men twisted in his gut. Her father's face flashed before his eyes, fierce and
condemning.

Nhaille's eyes closed in a fervent prayer. “Forgive me, Arais. I should never
have let her care for me.”

#

Rau's snores shattered the silent night. Riordan stared at him lying face up
in the moonlight and swore. Oblivious to her venom, the Prince slept on.

Struggling with the leather thongs that bound her only irritated her chafed
skin. Resigned, she wormed back under the blanket and tried to sleep.

Another snore shot her eyelids open. As good as shouting our presence to the
world! Can you hear him, Nhaille? Are you still out there? There'd be hell to
pay once he found them. Riordan wasn't sure whom she pitied more, Rau or
herself.

She forced her eyes shut. Exhaustion won't help the situation. An awesome
rattle issued from Rau's throat. Riordan groaned.

Throwing off the blanket, she contemplated heaving something big at him. An
impossibility with her arms and legs bound.

Her sharp curse didn't register. Nor did the scoop of sand she flung after
him with her heels. Finally, driven beyond the bounds of good sense, she
squirmed until she rested on her knees and elbows and inched toward him.

A bolt of white fury shot through her as she gazed down at him. Arrogant
swine! What gives him the right to sleep so peacefully after what he's done.
Does he think me such a fool that I wouldn't consider smothering him in his
sleep? Riordan shuffled closer. If I fell across him -- he could easily throw me
off. He must outweigh me by at least three stone. She looked down at the sword
in Rau's hand even as he slept. What if I kicked the sword away first? But what
would I smother him with? A blanket?

Another thought occurred to her. In the darkness, Riordan smiled. Sleep
soundly, Prince.

She leaned forward, positioning the tip of Rau's sword between the leather
thongs that bound her wrists. Rau snorted. His hand tightened on the sword, but
he didn't wake.

That's right, Doan-Rau, keep sleeping. How I'd love to see your face in the
morning when you realize I'm gone.

Gently, she sawed at the leather. It was tougher than she anticipated, but
eventually, she carved a narrow groove.

Just a bit more...

The snoring stopped. Rau's eyelids flickered.

Riordan swore silently to herself. Unhooking her wrists, searched for a way
to camouflage her actions. Placing both feet against his side, she dealt him a
swift kick.

Impact brought Rau fully awake. He leapt to his feet. Fury and fear battled
for control of his expression. Then, recognizing his attacker was bound hand and
foot, he flung the sword into the sand inches from her face. “Did you want
something, Your Majesty?”

Riordan looked up at him, her gray eyes a mask of innocence. “You were
snoring.”

“Snoring!” Rau glared down at her and visibly debated taking a swipe at her
with his sword.

She nodded and yawned as widely as she could. “You were keeping me
awake.”

“Wouldn't want to disturb your sleep, now would we?”

“I just wanted you to roll over.”

“Fine, I'm up now. Go back to sleep.”

Riordan eyed the discarded blanket and shivered. “Could you fetch my
blanket?”

Rau swore. For a moment he studied her, lying bound at his feet. He snatched
up the blanket and tossed it at her, leaving Riordan to find a way to wiggle
back under it.

“Now be quiet, Your Majesty. Or I'll silence you with the blade of my
sword.”

Riordan lay back on the cool sand. Rau stood a few paces away, staring into
the darkness. Looking no doubt for Nhaille.

A blade of moonlight cut across the sand beside her. She turned her wrists
into the light.

Across the thick leather band that bound her wrists was a deep slash.

The desert's predawn cold penetrated blankets, clothes even muscles. The
leather bonds did nothing to ease the cramps, merely forced her into unnatural
positions.

Riordan's eyelids fluttered open. She'd been asleep, she realized with alarm.
Warily she scanned the scene around her. Couldn't be more than a few minutes.
Rau sat as he had for most of the night with his back against a rock, his sword
mere inches from his hand.

She'd spent the night watching the stars make their slow journey across the
sky. All the while Rau sat sullenly in the darkness watching her.

Serves you right. I hope you're every bit as stiff and cold as I am.

But Rau had the freedom of his hands and feet. Rau had the liberty to attend
to the necessities of nature. It wasn't Rau lying bound like an animal on the
ground trying to ignore the dull ache in his bladder.

For that alone I would kill you. As if the Prince needed another sin to stack
against the weight of his soul.

Riordan flailed into a sitting position and sat up. “Morning.”

He grunted in reply. Watching her with scant interest, he pulled his blanket
tighter around his shoulders.

“Sleep well?” She couldn't resist the barb.

Rau glared back at her, his eyes like dark jewels in the scant light.
“Tomorrow night you can sleep upright, roped to the largest cactus I can
find.”

Riordan forced the smile spreading across her face into a bland stare. Not
much chance of that. There wasn't a plant of any type for miles. In the scant
light she could see the lines of strain beneath his eyes, proof of a night spent
in surveillance of his prisoner rather than sleep. Bet you'll not dare to sleep
soundly again, my Prince. Serves you right for snoring.

“Since you're up, would you mind--”

The Prince offered her a glower that said, not likely.

“Lot of help it'll be if I die of bladder failure before we reach the
mountains.”

That got his attention.

Wouldn't want my human failings to interfere with your glorious rule, now
would we, Prince?

Rau rose stiffly from the rock he'd been sitting on. Riordan watched him move
toward her, grimly satisfied that the cold affected him as much as it had her.

He reached down, scattering the blanket and hauled her to her feet. “Well?”
he asked, tearing at the laces on her breeches.

How many times do we have to go through this? Go ahead, humiliate me, Rau. It
will only make your demise all the sweeter.

Riordan turned awkwardly on bound legs. For all his manufactured grandeur,
Rau was not overly tall. They were almost of a height.

“Rather difficult to do standing up.”

He shoved her roughly. “So sit down.”

Without hands or feet for balance she fell awkwardly, barely missing a head
on collision with a nearby rock.

Rau shot her a look of utter disgust and walked away.

Riordan watched his black boots retreat. Thanks for nothing. It wasn't easy,
but she managed to squirm out of her breeches. Bracing herself against a rock,
she accomplished the task without soaking her clothes.

She studied the deep gash cutting across the leather thong that secured her
wrists. Sometime today, my Prince, you're going to make a fatal mistake. Heaving
herself away from the rock, she struggled back into her breeches. If not today,
then tomorrow. It's just me and you. Sooner or later you'll slip.

And then I'll have you.

Wherever Rau's talents lay, it wasn't in the culinary arts. Riordan tried to
choke down another of his putrid meals. Over the rim of his own bowl, he studied
her. Riordan balanced hers between bound wrists.

“What I don't understand--”

He sighed heavily. “Do you never stop talking?”

“No.”

“Must I bind your mouth as well, then?”

“That would stop me talking,” Riordan admitted, then quickly added. “But not
thinking.”

“Planning my demise, I'd wager.”

“Did you think me stupid?”

Blue eyes stared back at her in stony silence. Yet she caught a glimpse of
the veiled respect within his gaze, as if he couldn't quite believe she was
real. “Of course not, Your Majesty,” Rau said patronizingly. “What is it you
don't understand?”

Riordan ignored the sarcasm in his tone. “If it was Kanarek you wanted, why
did you set it aflame?”

“It wasn't Kanarek I wanted.”

“What then?”

“The coast, my good Queen. The entire coast from Kanarek to Golar.”

The entire coast, by the Gods! Nowhere in the prophecy was it written that
the destruction would stretch along the entire seaboard. Rau's revelation
shattered the ice inside. In that moment the fire that the fall of Kanarek had
extinguished flickered and came back to life.

Prophecy was merely speculation. Events that could come to be. Those
prophesied events would not come to pass, she vowed silently. She would stand in
Rau's path. Between Rau and the cities of Kholer and Golar and the coast.

Fire spread through her veins until she no longer felt the cold and the
stiffness, felt nothing, but the raging inferno inside. In one brief, brilliant
flash she recognized the enormity of what Nhaille had been trying to tell her
all those years.

I do not have the luxury of failing.

More than Kanarekii lives stood in the balance. More than Nhaille's or her
own. The knowledge only served to stoke the fire within.

And to think I once worried I'd be incapable of killing you, Rau.

Riordan forced her tone of voice back to amiable conversation. She had to
keep Rau talking, find out more about his plans. “Once you have the coast, what
will you do with it?”

“Rule it.”

“And your father, what of him?”

“He has promised the realm to me.”

“He has named you his heir?”

Her question was softly spoken, so she was unprepared for the fury with which
Rau leapt to his feet. Sand swirled about her. She dropped her own bowl in an
aborted effort to keep it from her eyes.

The Prince snatched the bowl from the dirt and thrust it into his saddle bag.
“Enough of this nonsense. Get on the horse and stay quiet, or I swear, I will
bind your mouth.”

At least it would keep the sand from my teeth.

“That, or rip out your tongue,” Rau added.

So, Riordan thought as he slung her over the saddle and climbed up behind
her, after his brilliant campaign in Hael's name, Prince Rau could not be
certain of his father's goodwill. She filed that notion in her memory for future
reference.

What a scholar of human nature I'm becoming. Nhaille would be proud of her
observance--if he ever forgave her for not sacrificing his life to get at
Rau.

Of all the killing that lies before me, you couldn't be the first,
Nhaille.

Sand thinned, barely covering the glassy rock beneath. The mountains took up
steadily more of the sky. Once there, Rau would expect her to lead him to the
Sword's tomb.

So he can chop off my head with it.

Riordan watched the thinning sand beneath the horses hooves. The motion was
mesmerizing. Eventually the swaying lulled her into blessed numbness.

#

Why in the Seven Heavens must the Kanarekii myth have the face of an angel
and a tongue to charm vipers? She had a beauty as hard-edged as crystal, yet a
disarming easy nature that came, he guessed, from growing up in exile and not in
the stifling protocol of court.

Damn it all, why did she have to be real? Why, when the rest of the campaign
had gone so well, did Riordan-Khun-Caryn have to come crashing into his life and
threaten to destroy it all?

Just as he got past his father's doubt, the reluctance of the council, he'd
remove this new obstacle as well. He need only seize the Sword to guarantee his
victory. As far as the Kanarekii myth was concerned, his father would be none
the wiser. Once he returned home victorious with the entire coast under Hael's
rule no questions would be asked. The last surviving member of the Khun-Caryn
clan would help him achieve it.

There could be no greater irony.

Rau looked down at her sleeping form slumped over the horse before him and
smiled. For all her other faults, the new Queen had a pleasing form. He'd been
so busy with his campaign, he hadn't had time for women. She was at his mercy.
He could do with her what he willed.

A diversion he had not the time for, he thought with a disappointed sigh.
Nothing must keep him from his chosen path. Kanarek's Queen could wait until the
coast was won. He need not destroy her to win the Sword.

No, he thought with a decisive nod, the Kanarekii was a challenge worthy of
him, a welcome distraction from the messy affairs of state. Taming her spirit
was a task he would enjoy.

After all, the loss of her tongue would not destroy her other virtues.

#

Riordan raced through the crystal labyrinth. Magenta corridors stretched in
all directions. The polished floors offered no purchase for the leather soles of
her boots and she slipped more than once, crashing into the walls of jutting
quartz. She gained her feet and ran on. It was desperately important she reach
the chamber at the center of the mountain.

The floor sloped upward, and she knew she'd taken the wrong corridor. She
turned back, retracing her own footsteps.

To find the passageway blocked.

Doan-Rau towered over her. His laughter shook the mountain to the core.

Wrong, all wrong, she thought desperately. Doan-Rau was no taller than she.
She should be the one blocking his passage to the Sword's chamber. Yet, caught
in the vision's web, she was powerless to stop the events from tumbling into
motion.

Rau swooped toward her. Riordan darted out of reach. His hands closed on thin
air. He cursed vehemently. She felt his warm breath as he passed her in the cold
chamber. Trapped, she had no choice but to plan her own defense.

Her foot shot out, catching Rau across the stomach. With a gasp, he doubled
up. She raced past him.

His cruel laughter followed her through the corridors.

Riordan bolted back down the crystal hallways, searching for the junction
where the floor began sloping downward. Footsteps echoed through the
passageways. She forced her legs to carry her faster.

The junction loomed suddenly before her. Momentum carried her forward. She
gripped the wall for balance and swung in this new direction. Her lungs burned
for air as she dashed across the threshold of the Sword's resting place.

To find it occupied by a black-cloak figure.

A cry of defeat was torn from her throat. He whirled toward her.

The world spun. She felt the impact, saw the shower of red across the magenta
quartz walls. Her headless body crumbled to the floor.

Riordan lurched to her senses. Sand swirled before her eyes, swept up the
sure footfalls of Rau's horse. Sweat soaked her collar, leaking down into the
silver strands of her hair.

Rau's voice dragged her back to reality. “Bad dreams?”

The sound of his voice caused another wave of sweat to break out across her
forehead.

Was Rau blessed with the Shraal's gift of sight? Could he see inside her
dreams? No, she decided with welcome relief. His tone was devoid of concern. He
took pleasure in her discomfort, nothing more. Rau was predictable in his
cruelty.

Terror ran its cold fingers down her spine. Why had the vision shown her
this? Its meaning stabbed through her, cold and clear. She must change the
course of events or the Sword would be Rau's.

Riordan ran her finger over the groove in the leather thong. Now was the time
to make her move, especially while she had a chance of unseating him and making
off with his horse. Nhaille could deal with Rau when he caught up with him.

That thought brought a smile to her lips. Pity the poor Prince.

The groove in the leather was deep. Riordan tested its strength. The gash had
weakened it. One strong pull ought to do it.

Casting a furtive glance at Rau, she found his gaze fastened on the growing
bulk of the mountains before them. Slowly, she worked at the leather, deepening
the cut she'd made with his sword.

Delicate work. Too much movement would alert Rau to her deception. Too little
would accomplish nothing. Riordan waited.

Just as she decided it could wait no longer, an opportunity presented itself.
Twisting in the saddle, Rau cast a glance behind him, searching for the
ever-present threat of Nhaille.

Throwing all her strength into one powerful tug, Riordan tore her hands
apart. The leather snapped. She heaved herself upright, just as Rau turned back
toward her.

Her fist caught him on the side of the head. Surprise was her ally. The blow
knocked him off balance. He made a grab for his sword and missed. Deciding to
use his hands to save his balance, he grasped the saddle.

Riordan swung herself into position. Her bound legs made movement awkward,
but she managed to wedge herself against the horse's neck. She kicked out, using
her legs as a battering ram, catching Rau beneath the jaw.

Still recovering from the earlier blow, Rau toppled. Riordan snatched after
his sword, seizing it with both hands. She heaved, throwing the sum of her
weight into the tug. The sword slid free of his scabbard in a flash of
light.

Rau clutched at her legs, desperate to stop his fall. Grasping for purchase,
her nails scraped across the leather saddle. But with Rau's sword in one hand
and her other flailing helplessly in thin air, Riordan slid helplessly from the
saddle.

Her shoulder collided with hard ground. Riordan gripped the sword for dear
life and vainly tried to get her legs under her. The next impact came from
above.

Rau had the advantage in height and weight. Unable to get the sword between
them to slit his throat, she settled for ramming the hilt into his temple. The
Prince cursed and dealt her a stinging blow across the face.