Chapter 18 #2
Except they were not alone. Between Lhuka and Jakhov hung a limp figure whose face was covered by a shemagh despite the early morning darkness. Emillie had assumed the cloth had to do with coverage from the sun. Perhaps it was, but there was clearly something more to it than she understood.
“Put them over there, you brutes.” Phulan shook her head as she pointed to a low pile of pillows beneath a bay of mashrabiya windows.
The two did as they were bid. When the person was lying upon the large cushions, eyes flickering open again from having been knocked unconscious, their mage host squatted down beside them.
“I am so sorry for their reaction.” Phulan fluffed a pillow. “I hadn’t yet told them you would be visiting.”
“Who this?” Jakhov demanded, shifting so he stood between the stranger and the table where Emillie and Revelie still sat.
Phulan glowered at him. “This is who we came to meet.”
“Name.” Jakhov’s sharp face held no remorse for having caused the person harm.
Sighing, Phulan straightened again. “This is Paerish. They were once the head guard for Melia Tagh.”
Two nights. It took two nights of flying for Madan to locate Ehrun’s eastern encampment of dhemon soldiers. Though they didn’t expect the journey to be quite so long, Ehrun spent the early morning of the first night apologizing for not being able to find their destination.
“Sehrox helped my memory a lot,” he’d admitted when they settled in for the day. “I never realized how much I depended on him to keep my head on straight.”
Whelan had glared at him. “If you think that was you keeping your head on straight, I think you need a little more self-reflection.”
“The broken bond did strange things to him, I fear.” And with that, Ehrun lay down without accepting any rations.
When they arrived at the encampment, Madan wasn’t surprised to be almost immediately surrounded by no less than two dozen armed dhemons.
Brutis and Oria tucked their wings in tight, well aware of the advantages an enemy could have with their membranous limbs outstretched, but remained nearby.
Both lowered their bellies almost to the ground, snapping their jaws at anyone who ventured too close.
“Ehrun?” a dhemon woman asked in their language after he dismounted Oria and stepped in front of Madan and Whelan, his fae collar on full display. “What have they done to you?”
Overhead, two dragons swooped in—one sky blue and the other a poisonous red. Their riders hollered as they descended and dismounted in a rush the moment the dragons’ claws touched down. As they were the pair in charge, the other dhemons parted to let them pass.
Madan tracked their movements. The first, who rode the blue, had a shaved head and runic tattoos on his scalp.
When he resided in Auhla, he’d been quiet, but harbored a deep loathing for most vampires.
At the time, Madan seemed to have escaped his vitriol.
Now the dhemon surveyed him as he had any enemy before.
“Sabharni, Ahn,” Ehrun said and stepped forward. He gestured to the collar on his neck and continued in the dhemon language, “I put this on willingly.”
Ahn didn’t seem convinced. “You expect me to believe that after the last year of orders telling us to kill this bastard on sight?”
Well, now, that didn’t bode well. Madan wasn’t often afraid in the presence of dhemons, but with so many vampire-hating extremists surrounding him, he was grateful for Brutis at his back.
“They won’t touch you,” the gray dragon reassured him, heat radiating from his maw.
Taking a step closer, Whelan put a hand on the greatsword over his shoulder. “You’re safe.”
“I know.” Between the two of them and Anthoria, he was perhaps the safest a vampire could be. That didn’t negate the uneasiness he felt while watching his imprisoned enemy attempt to talk down his command of soldiers.
Ehrun, however, appeared unperturbed. “I do. Things have changed.”
The second dragon rider, a woman named Ygret capable of committing war atrocities without remorse, shook her head, braided hair shifting with the motion. “No. It seems that you have changed.”
“I have,” Ehrun admitted. “I’ve been reconnected to Keon.”
A murmur swept through the dhemons. Some shook their heads. Others craned their necks to get a better look at him. Still more echoed the inevitable question: how?
“The ritual was found in the hands of vampires.” Ehrun’s voice took on a different tone—the one Madan knew from decades of following his commands.
Despite his position as a prisoner, he stood a little straighter and swept the loose hair back from his face, eyes blazing.
When the crowd called for the downfall of Valenul, he held up a hand. “That is what I came here for.”
Madan’s heart stuttered. “Ehrun…”
But the great dhemon didn’t so much as glance at him. Instead, he plowed on with greater strength in his words, “I am but one of a dozen who’ve now been reunited thanks to the bravery and sacrifices made by our true King—Azriel the Crowe—and his bonded wife, Queen Ariadne Harlow.”
“Fuck the Harlows!” The shout came from the middle of the gathered dhemons. Again, Madan’s heart kicked into action. Not one of them knew that a blooded Harlow stood before them as they shouted, “Kill the entire family!”
“Ehrun,” Whelan snarled, “get them under control. This is not why we are here.”
Without acknowledging either of them, Ehrun took another step forward. “What Markus Harlow did to us—to my family and yours—can never be forgiven.”
Fuck. This was not going well. Madan’s hand inched towards his own sword on his hip. Despite his declaration for Azriel and Ariadne, Madan’s trust in the dhemon was waning.
“A Harlow will never be our Queen!” Another dhemon snarled, closer now to Madan. He pivoted to glare at the speaker.
“That,” Ehrun said as he turned toward the same dhemon, “is where you’re wrong.”
Ygret stepped forward, disgust turning the corners of her mouth into a frown. “What have these leech apologists done to twist your thoughts?”
Again, Ehrun redirected his attention, now eyeing the woman with a pointed look.
“They returned Rhana to me.” A quiet settled at that and, like the influential speaker he was, Ehrun pressed on, “And that is why I owe everything to Ariadne—the Caersan vampire I had abducted, tortured, and assaulted. She is the only reason we have the ability to reconnect with Keon and mend our broken bonds.”
“Why would she help you?” Ahn asked, the sharp edges of his expression softening.
At that, Ehrun looked to Madan. “Perhaps her brother can answer that.”
Another series of whispers as the attention turned to him. Madan became keenly aware of the bared teeth and hands gripping weapons.
“It’s true,” Madan said cautiously, “that when we encountered Ehrun a fortnight ago, we were enemies. We fought and we both lost friends. But one thing was ordered by my Queen—my sister: do not kill Ehrun.”
A dhemon called from the back, “She wished to kill him herself.”
“Then why am I alive?” Ehrun glowered at them. “They could have killed me. She’s had plenty of opportunities. Yet here I stand.”
“My sister may never forgive Ehrun, as none of us expect any of you to forgive Markus Harlow or the vampires of Valenul,” Madan continued, “but she is wise. A divided nation of dhemons could never stand strong alone, as we witnessed under the command of King Azazel the Crowe, and that is what we wish to rectify by bringing our armies together.”
Yet more quiet words were exchanged amongst the dhemons. Lies, said some. Impossible, whispered others. Yet no one openly refuted him. No one dared speak against Ehrun, who now stood in front of them with a clearer mind than ever before.
“The Crowe’s son has taken the throne at Auhla with a bonded Caersan Queen.” Ehrun swept his red eyes over them all. “Their promise is to reconnect us all with Keon, ending our pain. So far, they have delivered. But now they need our help.”
Some glanced at the dragons beside Ahn and Ygret. Yes, the battle-ready cavalry was a highlight, but not the entire reason for their choice to ally with Ehrun.
Taking a deep breath, Madan stepped up beside the dhemon to address the crowd with greater confidence. “You all have experience fighting the vampire soldiers. You have knowledge of how to best defeat Caersans in battle. We have numbers, but most will flounder without your guidance.”
“You come here,” Ygret said, “and ask us to kill your own people. Why?”
Madan shook his head. “My people are here. Of my near-five centuries, I’ve spent all but a handful amongst dhemons. I’m vampire by blood and dhemon by every other right.
“That isn’t to say I want all vampires dead,” he added quickly. “But their new King, the previous General Loren Gard, is a danger to the entire Keonis Valley and beyond. He must be stopped and our people returned to our rightful lands.”
“And what lands do you believe those to be?” Ahn asked, genuine curiosity on his face. “The vampires have taken the entire Valley, and I don’t see them leaving anytime soon.”
At that, Whelan moved up to Ehrun’s other side. “The Keonis Valley is now as much the home to vampires as it is to dhemons. We must acknowledge that they’re not going to leave. The Keonis Tree and the surrounding lands are our goal, but we ultimately wish to live beside them…in peace.”
“Peace!” A dhemon laughed. “They’ve wanted nothing but war for millennia.”
“As have we,” Ehrun pointed out. “And sometimes war is necessary to find that peace.”
Ygret worked her way to the front of the crowd, leaving her brilliant red dragon behind. She searched Ehrun’s face. “You believe these…people?”
“Yes.” Ehrun’s lack of hesitation took Madan by surprise. “As I believe Rhana would believe in their path to peace, I do the same.”
Everyone watched in silence for the cruel woman’s reply. A muscle twitched in her jaw as she clenched her sharp teeth. Then she nodded once. “I fly with you, Ehrun, as I always have. For Rhana.”
Pain lanced through the dhemon’s eyes, and he laid his hands over his heart. “Thank you, Ygret.”
After that, a flood of affirmations followed. One by one, Madan watched as the demeanor of the hostile dhemons changed. Even those with broken bonds had hope flare in their eyes long enough to have them agree to follow a half-dhemon King into war.
For peace.