The Queen's Blade II - Sacrifice Read online

  The Queen’s Blade II

  Sacrifice

  T C Southwell

  Published by T C Southwell at Smashwords

  Copyright © 2010 T C Southwell

  Smashwords Edition, License Notes

  This e-book is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This e-book may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

  Table of Contents

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Prologue

  When Queen Minna-Satu ascended the Jashimari throne, she swore to end the war that had raged between her people and the desert kingdom of Cotti for centuries. Her councillors were against it, but a young advisor, Chiana, suggested that Minna-Satu consult with the seer Shamsara, Idol of the Beasts. Her council pleased Minna-Satu, who elevated Chiana to the rank of chief advisor. In this, the Age of Beasts, every person is bonded with a familiar, who is his or her closest companion. Chiana is dove kin, while Minna-Satu claims kindred with cat kind, her familiar a great sand cat from the desert. The Idol predicted that when a queen who is neither Jashimari nor Cotti sits upon the Jashimari throne, there will be peace. He also told Minna-Satu that in order for this to come to pass, she must make the ultimate sacrifice.

  Minna-Satu sent many seasoned warriors to slay the Cotti King, Shandor, and bring her his son, Kerrion. They failed, but then a black-clad man requested an audience and offered to do the deed. Thus, Minna came to know the assassin named Blade, whose wintry grey eyes are as chilling as his smile is disarming. The Cotti emasculated and enslaved him as a child, after they slew his family, and his hatred of them runs deep. His is cat kindred, but he has no familiar. After he left for the desert, Minna learnt that Blade is the Master of the Dance in Jondar, a title that only the best in his trade hold. His kill tally is impressive, and he is known as the Invisible Assassin and the Silent Slayer.

  Blade succeeded, and Minna rewarded him with lands, riches and the title of lord. When Prince Kerrion refused to become her consort and father the next Jashimari Queen, she seduced him, disguised as a handmaiden, in order to conceive his child. Traitorous members of her court, however, assumed that she was trying to negotiate a truce with the eagle-kin Prince and, not wishing the war to end, plotted to assassinate Kerrion. He had to ascend the throne in order for Shamsara’s prediction to come true, so, after a failed assassination attempt, Minna sent him back to the desert with a heavy heart. She sent Blade to kill the lord behind the attempt, and realised that, with the assassin at her side, she had the means to slay her enemies even if the courts would not convict them. The threat of swift reprisals kept her rebellious lords in check, and Blade became the instrument of her wrath.

  When Kerrion returned to his kingdom, his half-brother, Lerton, second eldest of Shandor's brood of sixteen sons, accused Kerrion of killing Shandor. Since no one saw Blade assassinate the Cotti King or abduct Kerrion, the Prince's trial went badly.

  Blade visited his estate, and when he returned just ahead of the first winter storms, he learnt that Jashimari's former ally, King Jan-Durval, had been slain, and the neighbouring Kingdom of Contara had invaded Jashimari. Beset on two fronts, Jashimari is doomed, and Minna-Satu was in despair. The only hope that remained was the prophecy Shamsara gave her, if her child is born in time. Fearing that Kerrion would be convicted of killing his father, Minna-Satu asked Blade to confess to the Cotti judges. He agreed, but part of his price is Prince Lerton's life. Minna knew that the Cotti would want to execute Blade, and ordered him to be anointed a sacred Knight of the Veil.

  Kerrion was exonerated, and, because Blade demanded a pardon prior to his confession, the assassin is freed. He told Kerrion that Minna-Satu will bear the Prince’s child in the spring, then take the Queen’s Cup to pass her kingdom to her daughter, but Kerrion was unable to promise peace. Blade assassinated Lerton and fled Jadaya. On the journey home, however, the Cotti spy who was the assassin’s guide shot him in the back with a crossbow and left him for dead.

  Chapter One

  Patrol Leader Jayon held the spyglass to his eye and scanned the shimmering desert, his horse stamping to chase away flies. Behind him, the squad of Jashimari horsemen waited, some taking advantage of the respite to sip water from their canteens. Jayon hated desert patrols, which involved time-glasses of riding in sweltering heat to spy on the Cotti army's movements. He longed for the cool greenness beyond the mountains, with its gentle mists and abundance of birds and beasts.

  Here, nothing lived but the numberless flies that plagued the horses and the sand midges that carried a dreaded illness, which killed many men each year and made many more sick for tendays. A pungent lotion repelled the midges and reduced the risk of catching the disease, but it itched, adding to the misery of the endless heat that boiled him in his armour. Something black caught his eye, and he paused in his sweep to study it, then passed the glass to the soldier beside him.

  "Look over there," Jayon pointed. "Tell me what you see."

  The man stared through the glass for some time before commenting, "It's a man, sir, probably dead."

  Jayon nodded. "That's what I thought. I wonder who he was, and what he was doing out here."

  The soldier pulled a face. "He can't tell us now."

  "The Cotti wear pale clothes to ward off the heat, not black. He could be Jashimari."

  "He's still dead."

  Jayon looked impatient. "Even so, he deserves a decent burial."

  "The men are tired, sir, and we shouldn't linger in one place."

  "It will only take a few minutes in this soft sand. Come on." Jayon spurred his horse towards the distant speck, and the patrol followed.

  Jayon slid from his mount and knelt beside the crumpled body, which lay on its side. A crossbow bolt protruded from the corpse's back, and although the man's face was pressed into the sand, his exposed cheek was pale and his hair black. A jelabah covered part of his legs, a Cotti raiment that had evidently been partially pulled off when he had fallen from a horse. The wind had obscured any tracks, and probably dislodged the jelabah further as well. Judging by the way the sand had formed ripples around the corpse, it had been lying here for at least a day.

  "He's Jashimari," he muttered. "Shot in the back. It can only be a Cotti kill."

  The patrol leader rolled the corpse onto its back to see its face, and recoiled in surprise when the man groaned. "He's alive!"

  Two soldiers joined him, and one rolled the man onto his side again to inspect the bolt. "Lung shot," he pronounced. "A bad wound, probably fatal, especially if the bolt is barbed." He tugged at it, and it slid out, revealing a smooth point. "A hunting bolt. He may live. Bring me bandages."

  The second soldier fetched bandages from his saddlebag, and between them they stripped the man of his leather tunic and bound the wound. Jayon studied the stranger's innocent, unlined face, which the sun had now reddened. His gaze dropped to the tattoo at the base of the man's throat, and he frowned.

  "He's an assassin."

  The soldiers paused and glanced up at him
. "You want to leave him?"

  Jayon shook his head. "No, we'll take him with us."

  "Sir!" the lookout called. "There's a group of Cotti soldiers heading this way, coming fast. Looks like a couple of hundred of them."

  The soldiers who tended the assassin jumped up and ran to their mounts. Jayon glanced at the wounded man in annoyance. "Help me with him!"

  "Leave him, sir," one of the soldiers advised. "Your horse can't carry a double burden all the way to the pass. He's not worth it."

  "He's still a Jashimari! Help me get him on the horse."

  The soldiers heaved the assassin across Jayon's pommel, and they set off towards the pass at a brisk canter. Soon it became clear that the Cotti pursued them at a gallop, and the patrol leader spurred his horse, which flagged under the double burden.

  The Jashimari patrol, which the Cotti outnumbered three to one, thundered into the mountain pass at a full gallop just ahead of the enemy. Jayon lagged behind, bent over his horse's neck as arrows whizzed past his ears. The ferocity and doggedness of the Cotti, who followed them right into the pass, amazed him. As soon as they were within its rocky confines, Jashimari archers rained arrows down on the Cotti, yet still the desert warriors refused to give up. The gates in the wall, built by Jashimari defenders ages ago, swung open to admit the patrol, and more arrows buzzed down from the battlements, slaying dozens of Cotti soldiers. The patrol thundered through the gates, which closed behind them.

  Safe inside the fortress, Jayon swung down from his lathered mount and looked around for help as his men melted away to tend their animals. A couple of soldiers responded to his summons and came over with a stretcher, and the assassin was lowered onto it. Another soldier took his horse, and Jayon started after the stretcher, which was borne away in the direction of the healers' house. His commander confronted him on the way, frowning with displeasure.

  "Jayon, what have you been up to? Why did those Cotti chase you right up to the gates?"

  Jayon glanced at the wall, where the archers had relaxed. Evidently the attack was over. "I don't know, sir. We found a man in the desert, shot in the back. I brought him with us."

  "A Cotti?"

  "No sir, a Jashimari assassin."

  Commander Vandar looked puzzled. "What would an assassin be doing in the desert? Who is he?"

  "I don't know, sir, he's unconscious."

  "Will he live?"

  Jayon shrugged. "Maybe."

  "Well, just as long as you haven't been taking pot shots at the Cotti again." Commander Vandar clapped him on the shoulder with a chuckle.

  "No, sir."

  "Let me know what our guest has to say if he wakes."

  Jayon saluted and headed for the healers' house, eager for news of his find. The aged, dour healer who examined the assassin was pessimistic in his prognosis, declaring that the assassin would develop a lung sickness from the wound and die within a few days. Nevertheless, he pushed a hollow reed into the wound and released a puff of air, then applied a herbal dressing to seal it before he left to tend to the many other injured soldiers who filled the building.

  Jayon gazed down at the peaceful face of the man he had saved, wondering what secrets lay in his dormant mind, and what tales he might tell, should he wake. The assassin had been stripped of his belt, which held two sheathed daggers, and another two weapons had been removed from the sheaths strapped to his wrists and placed under the bed with his clothes. Jayon unstrapped the sheaths and added them to the pile, then removed the assassin's boots, discovering two more daggers in well-concealed sheaths on their exteriors. Shaking his head in rueful admiration, he pulled the blanket over the man and left to seek his evening meal.

  Over the next few days, Jayon tended the assassin in his spare time, spooning watery soup into him and wiping off the sweat when the fever the healer had predicted set in. The healers shook their heads at the young patrol leader's devotion to the dying assassin, their gloomy prognosis vindicated as his condition worsened and his breathing became laboured. Still, Jayon refused to give up.

  Letting his common sense guide him, he propped the assassin up to ease his breathing and persevered with his feeding. Each day the assassin's respiration became weaker, developing a nasty rattle that the healers claimed heralded the end. The assassin burnt with a terrible fever, soaking the sheets with sweat, his skin flushed and hot. Each time Jayon returned from his patrol, he expected to find the bed empty, but the assassin clung to life with a tenacity that astounded everyone.

  Queen Minna-Satu paced her chambers, ignoring Chiana's pleas to lie down and rest, or eat something. The Queen's pregnancy had not yet started to swell her waistline, but her condition was the cause of much rejoicing. Heavy snows slowed the Contara, and they had advanced little since the autumn. New recruits were being pressed into swift training, and retired veterans recalled to fight again, yet it would not be enough. Engineers designed new war engines to meet the needs of a small army beset by superior numbers, but even these would do little more than slow down the enemy advance.

  No word had reached them of Blade, and this was the cause of Minna's agitation. Her pregnancy made it worse with violent mood swings and fits of weeping. The young consort, a handsome man of cats who said little and adored the Queen, tried to calm her when he could, but she would listen to no one and often sent him away. He was the only one, as yet, who knew that he was not the father of her child, and spent his nights on a cot at the foot of her bed.

  "My Queen, you must rest," Chiana pleaded. "You will wear yourself out. You need to be strong for your child."

  Minna glared at her. "I tire of your advice, Chiana, perhaps I should appoint a new chief advisor."

  "They will tell you the same thing. The healers are concerned for your health, so is Antare."

  "Antare!" Minna snorted. "Spare me his cow-eyed looks and constant fawning. What does he know?"

  "He knows, as I do, that you are pale and drawn, you have grown thinner and eat next to nothing. He also tells me that you sleep badly, you toss and mutter constantly."

  "Is nothing sacred around here anymore? I shall send him back to the war, where he can do some good."

  Chiana sighed, making a helpless gesture. "You know that he is a good man, concerned for your welfare, as we all are. Why are you being so difficult?"

  "Difficult?" Minna cried. "Do not treat me like some recalcitrant child, Chiana, I am your Queen! You know very well why I am upset, I have good reason to be!"

  "But wearing yourself out does not help."

  Minna sank down amongst her cushions, frowning. "Why have I heard nothing from Jadaya? What has happened there? Is Kerrion King, or Lerton? It has been too long. The Warrior Moon is almost full, and still there is no word of Blade. I need him here, I need his advice."

  "And his strength," Chiana murmured.

  "Yes, that too."

  "You knew that he might not survive."

  "Yet I expected him to." Minna shook her head, looking despondent. "Perhaps it was foolish of me, but he has cheated death so many times. I thought that he could do it again."

  "Maybe he will, but you must not worry about him, My Queen."

  "How can you say that? I know you worry about him too. I had to send him to Jadaya, do you not see? The future of Jashimari depended on it. I had no choice. I just wish I knew what has befallen him. What if he is lying in a ditch somewhere, wounded and dying of neglect when he could have the very best healers attending him? Perhaps I should send someone to search for him?"

  "But where would they look, My Queen?" Chiana asked, although her eyes brightened with hope. "We have no idea where he might be."

  "He has either perished in Jadaya, or he is somewhere between here and there."

  "That is a lot of country to search."

  "Yes." Minna slumped. "But I fear that without him, my plans will fail." Her hand crept to her belly. "Without him, my child will die and Jashimari will be conquered. All will be lost."

  Chiana knelt beside her. "Surel
y not? Do not think such things. How can one man be so important?"

  "I do not know," Minna-Satu murmured, "but I think that he is."

  Jayon was sitting beside the assassin when he stopped breathing. The cessation of the rattling gasps did not register right away, then he turned to stare at the peaceful features of the strange man. A curious sense of loss filled him. The mystery had eluded him, the secrets had died with the man on the bed, gone forever when he wanted so much to know them.

  "No, you can't die," he muttered, shaking his head. "Not after all my care, and saving you from the desert. You can't do this to me! I want to know who you are, where you come from, what you were doing in the desert, and who shot you. Damn it, you can't just die now, after all I've done for you!"

  Rising, he stood over the bed, his hands clenched at his sides. He glared at the assassin, incensed that he had given up when he should have fought on.

  "You can't just give up! Fight, damn you!"

  Jayon bent and thumped the assassin's chest, as if trying to rouse him from the dead. Again and again he hammered the dead man, driven by an insane urge to beat him into fighting for the life that had already left him.

  "Fight, damn you! Fight!"

  A passing healer stared at Jayon in horror, then hurried over to grip his arms and pull him away. "He's dead! Leave him be!"

  "No!" Jayon wrenched free and fell to his knees beside the bed, bring his fists down in the hardest blow of all. "Fight!"