| THE LORELEI SIGNAL |
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| Written by Tina Morgan / Artwork by JonathanDeBruyn |
| Make a donation to this writer |
| Simple Deception |
Steel rang on steel shattering the silence of the early morning. Jasmine grinned at her opponent and dashed a quick
hand across her forehead to keep the sweat from dripping into her eyes. Sergeant Bray stayed true to his word and
did not show her any mercy. He had protested pushing her so hard, but she managed to convince him that if he
didn't test her limits, she would never know if she could defend herself in battle.
The uneven ground of the forest proved a challenge, but one she welcomed. Lord Cridan's troops would not care if
they were in a castle or in the field; their orders were to take her any way they could. She had no intentions of being
brought back to their master alive. Death by dismemberment was a more desirable fate than marrying Cridan. She
would not be the pawn that allowed him to take control of all of Kalon.
"Milady," a servant called from the edge of the clearing. Jasmine glanced over at him, and Bray grabbed her from
behind and pressed the side of his sword to her neck.
"If Lord Cridan were to discover how easily you can be distracted, you'll be disarmed and in his bed before you can
scream," he sergeant told her.
"You arranged this?" It wasn't a trick she expected out of him, but the sort of thing she kept prompting him to do.
"No." He lowered his sword and they turned their attention back to the young man who shuffled nervously from one
foot to the other.
"Yes?" Jasmine asked.
"He's here," he paused. "He's hurt."
She exchanged glances with Bray. There was no need to ask who 'he' was. Only one man elicited such tension
amongst her men. Captain Danaar had returned. They followed the page to the healer's tent, where Bray stopped to
question the two blood-soaked men who waited outside. Jasmine ignored the captain's men and stepped inside. On
the cot lay a dark haired man with skin the color of bleached parchment. For the normally olive skinned captain, it
was not encouraging. The healer stopped cleaning the sword wound in his patient's abdomen long enough to allow
her to inspect the damage.
"I wanted to try healing him, but he won't allow it," the man said as he prepared a poultice.
"Why?"
"Cridan, nearby," Danaar murmured. "Too much magic."
"If he's that close, then we don't have time for you to heal on your own. We need to move and you're not going
anywhere in this condition." Jasmine stepped away from the cot and peered out the flap of the tent. "Bray, clear the
area, the healer needs to set a shield."
"Milady, will he live?" one of Danaar's men interrupted.
"Hopefully," she replied, not willing to promise more. The wound might have missed any vital organs, but he'd lost
far too much blood. Judging from the men who'd brought him here, they were wearing most of it. Just as she turned
toward Danaar, she noticed the man who'd asked about his condition had a hole in his shirt. Directly in line with his
heart. Her anger at the captain faded some. "He didn't heal himself because he was too weak from saving you,
wasn't he?"
"Yes, Milady," the man said. The concern and fear in his eyes exhausted her. The captain didn't have followers; he
had worshipers.
"The healer will do his best," she tried to reassure him. With a quick glance in Bray's direction, she said as an
afterthought, "Oh, and Bray? Start packing."
"Rot!"
Jasmine frowned and he cut short his protests. She knew he would have liked to voice his opinion of the captain and
his lineage, but the soldiers who stood vigil would not have tolerated such disparaging comments about their leader.
Still, it was tempting to vent a few invectives herself. Every time Danaar came to their encampment, they had to
move and often fight for their lives. While the information he and his spies provided had proved invaluable in the
past, it always came at a high price.
Carefully closing the flap, she looked at the healer who had pulled back the rug that had been covering the ground.
He stood waiting for her to proceed and she wasted no time in marking runes in the bare dirt with the tip of a dagger
she'd drawn from a wrist sheath. Mouthing the words of the shield spell, she closed her eyes and concentrated on
visualizing a dome of protective magic over the tent. The healer's hand on her shoulder let her know he could feel
the completed shield. He was her protection, not from the magic she would be working, but from the other men in
the camp. Even with Danaar's life on the line, her own would be forfeit if the men realized she was the one wielding
magic. Their fear dwelled deep in their hearts, remnants of a war with the Dark Queen who decimated the land and
its people centuries ago.
Jasmine pushed back the frustration at having her actions controlled by a myth. Danaar didn't have time for her to
feel sorry for herself. He had lost consciousness and she was thankful not to have to deal with his protests. He,
Bray, and the healer knew her talents, but he would protest her performing the healing because, even with a shield,
the use of such strong magic could alert Cridan to their location.
"He won't survive if you don't Milady. You'll have to trust to swords and bows to protect you until you recover. Or
you'll have to let him die." The healer kept his voice low so none outside the tent might hear.
"Don't think that thought hasn't occurred to me," she muttered as she knelt beside the cot. She laid her hands on the
wound in Danaar's stomach, and judging from the heat coming off his skin it was more than a few days old. Infection
had set in and without help; he was doomed to a painful death. While she suspected such a fate would eventually
befall the captain, she didn't want to witness it. Much as she hated to admit it; they needed his military expertise.
Closing her eyes, she gathered the magic to her. She didn't know where it came from, but she knew its source
rested deep within her: perhaps within her very soul. There were no spells to recite or runes to write, only a need to
pour the energy into the wound and allow his body to do what came naturally. He possessed the rarest of gifts. If he
hadn't been so exhausted, he could have healed himself, something no other talent could do. Cridan had been trying
to kill him for months but good fortune, and magic had been on the captain's side. The wound ran deep and his
body lingered on the edge of death. Exhaustion overtook her before she could finish the healing, but she felt Danaar
regain consciousness as she fainted.
When she awoke several minutes later, the healer sat on a stool, waiting with a cup of herbal tea. Without a word,
she drained the cup. If she were to maintain the charade of being the healer's assistant and not the actual healer, she
would have to get back on her feet before anyone noticed her weakness. Not surprisingly, the captain was nowhere
to be seen. However, she could hear his and Bray's voices outside the tent as they directed the servants in tearing
down the camp.
Bray opened the flap, "Milady?"
"Just a few more minutes, Bray, are we ready?" she asked.
He stepped inside and knelt by the cot. "Soon. The captain and his men helped. They're going to ride out shortly to
try to lead Cridan in the opposite direction."
"Did the captain have any information for us?"
"Yes, he said the peasants from Ramirador have organized and are awaiting your arrival. They're ready to fight for
you."
She gave an indelicate snort of displeasure. "Peasants? Against Cridan's army? What chance would they have?"
"It's the best we can hope for, Milady. The captain has trained them as well as he can while avoiding Lord Cridan's
men, but what they lack in skill, they make up for in numbers and determination." Bray reached out tentatively to
touch her hands that lay clasped on her stomach. "You may use my strength, Milady."
"Bray," she began.
"Don't argue," he said in as stern a voice as she'd ever heard him use on her. "Without you, there's only Lord
Cridan."
"There's always the captain." She smiled and watched him under half closed eyes.
"Don't say that!" With an effort, he brought his voice back down to the low tones they'd been using. "He's a warrior,
not a lord. He doesn't know how to handle a trial or see the peasants aren't taxed too heavily. What does he know
of maintaining roads or financing a new mill? No, Milady. You're our only hope."
"You know he's right. Too many remember that I once served Cridan," Danaar said from the tent opening. He
regarded Bray for several heartbeats before continuing. "Even those who know that's no longer true."
"I'm a woman." The hurt in her voice surprised the men enough that they stopped glaring at each other. She
breathed a sigh of relief that her emotional subterfuge had worked. She didn't have time to play nursemaid to a few
bickering boys.
"The peasants know who you are. It's up to you to show them their faith is well-placed," Bray said. She shook her
head angrily. The limits society and the government placed on her gender were nothing new. She'd grown up
knowing she had to hide her magic talents and pretend to be nothing more than a trophy for a noble husband. The
peasants would only follow her if she hid behind a man like she did when she healed Danaar.
Bray stopped caressing her hand with an embarrassed cough. "Come now, you must get moving."
His eyes wouldn't meet hers and she hesitated. They had been dancing around their feelings for each other for
months and now wasn't the time to be declaring her love for him. Not with Cridan's army bearing down on them and
not with Danaar standing at the edge of the tent watching. With a sigh, she drew on Bray's energy. It was a delicate
task, requiring more control than healing Danaar had. If she drew too much, he would be weaker than she and if she
didn't draw enough, she wouldn't be able to stand.
"Your sergeant forgot to tell you that Penarus is no longer a viable provision location. Cridan has a squadron
encamped in the town hall," Danaar said.
She used his interruption as an excuse to stop pulling energy from Bray, even though she knew she needed more.
More energy, more time, more soldiers. There was never enough and she suspected they would eventually lose the
war. Sitting on the edge of the cot, she ordered Bray to bring her horse around.
He brushed past Danaar with a dark look and the corners of Danaar's lips twitched in what she'd come to realize
was a broad grin for him. He turned to her, his dark eyes twinkling. "You really should put his mind at ease."
"What do you mean?" she asked and tried to stand but fell back onto the cot. In two strides, Danaar was at her side
and helping her stand. She felt the energy he poured into her and jerked away. "Stop that! You don't have it to
spare."
"I'm a quick healer." A glimpse of white teeth surprised her when he actually smiled. "Tell him, while you can."
"Milady?" Bray called. His hand hovered over his sword hilt when he saw Danaar standing so close the Jasmine.
"I'm fine," she snapped. Glaring at Danaar, she strode out of the tent.
No sooner had she and Danaar exited than servants dismantled the tent and packed its contents on the last wagon.
"Follow the northern route into the Kasoon Mountains," Danaar instructed. "We'll go east and try to draw them off."
"That's in the wrong direction for Ramirador."
"Yes, but Cridan knows I came from there. If you head that way immediately he'll know we're up to something. I'd
prefer to give the peasants a little more time to forge swords and axes." Danaar's horse pranced in anticipation of
the upcoming ride, but he quieted it with a few subtle cues. "If you take the pass at Taman Zora, you can reach
Ramirador from the north. If we're lucky, Cridan won't realize where you've gone until the fall snows close the pass."
"And if we're not, we'll be trapped on the wrong side of the pass," Bray protested.
"Then we'd better not waste any more time arguing." Jasmine nudged her horse into a fast trot and Bray was forced
to follow. Behind her, she heard Danaar and his men kick their horses into a gallop heading eastward.
When they stopped to eat a late evening meal, the men and horses were exhausted. Jasmine wasn't leading an army;
there simply weren't enough supplies or men to support a large force. Her squadron consisted of fifty men and sixty
horses, eight of which pulled the two wagons that carried their tents and food. Bedrolls and weapons were carried
on each soldier's mount. She watched the men set up camp. Their faces showed the strain of the hard ride and all
the rides that had come before. Now more than ever she felt the weight of their expectations. If they failed, their
families would be little more than slaves to Lord Cridan. The odds had never been in her favor and she felt hope
slipping away.
Fantasies of returning to Ramirador Keep and living in comfort haunted her thoughts at moments like this, but she
knew they couldn't withstand a siege. Cridan kept her and her allies on the run, unable to organize a mass
resistance. With Danaar's help, they managed lightning strikes that disabled supply lines and slowed Cridan's
inexorable march against her homeland. When they finally reached the end and there was nowhere left to run, she
feared for the people of Kalon; Cridan would not be kind and the people would pay dearly for her failure.
"Heavy thoughts after such a long ride?" Bray asked.
She nodded and slid slowly from her saddle. Her legs ached from the constant riding. The difference between her
pampered life prior to Cridan's overthrow of the Highlord and now was stark and depressing. Never again would
she take the work the servants did for granted. There were no ladies in waiting to draw her bath or scrub her hair.
No pretty dresses or banquets awaited her. She chastised herself for such self-indulgent pity. The men who
followed and fought for her had never known such luxuries. She would not bemoan their loss when the soldiers
were fighting for their lives.
"So much riding, so little improvement in our situation."
Bray took her reins and passed the horse off to the wrangler who stood waiting. When he walked away with their
horses, Bray said, "Especially after Danaar showed up again."
"You still don't trust him," she said.
"He's right. I can't forget that he served Cridan. And not just as a foot soldier but as his captain. He's responsible for
the army that follows us." The muscles twitched in his jaw and his right hand gripped the hilt of his sword. "You
place too much faith in him."
"He saved my life when Cridan killed the Highlord."
"From who? Cridan wasn't going to kill you. That would ruin his plans to take over Ramirador by marriage," Bray
protested. "That's a far less costly alternative than taking it by force."
Jasmine sighed. They'd had the same argument many times before but she couldn't make him understand the dark
magic Cridan had worked at the Highlord's castle. Many of Kalon's nobles believed she had already married
Cridan. With the nobles convinced they'd been married, there was no more reason for Cridan to allow her to live.
He would have killed her and taken control of her lands through trickery. Danaar had seen through the illusion and
had rescued her as Cridan's coup began. When Bray tried to protect his master, the Highlord ordered him to help
the captain get her to safety.
"It's far easier to control a dead wife's dowry than to deal with a rebellious fiancé," she said.
"I knew you hadn't married him, the other servants knew."
She smiled sadly. "And when have the nobles cared what their servants say or think?"
"But why did Danaar turn on Lord Cridan?" Bray asked. "He's proven he doesn't believe an oath of fealty is
binding, why should we trust he won't turn on you?"
"Because I won't have his lover flogged to death," Jasmine said.
"Rumors and stories…"
"Arguing isn't helping," Jasmine interrupted. "Let's get something to eat."
#
The week flew by in a blur of riding and skirmishes with Cridan's troops. They rode deeper into the mountains and
fought their way over the Taman Zora pass, but still Cridan's men followed. Jasmine realized they weren't going to
make it to Ramirador without being overrun.
"Milady, there's a box canyon with a good water supply and a high mountain pass just a few miles south," one of her
scouts shouted as he rode beside her. "If we can reach it, we should be able to hold Cridan's men at bay at the
narrow mouth. If we can hold them until dark, we'll be able to sneak out over the pass."
"Lead the way," she ordered.
They galloped into the canyon minutes ahead of Cridan's men. The scout quickly led several soldiers to the canyon
walls where they used brute strength and the trunk of a dead tree to lever large rocks down into the already
constricted entrance. With the only way into the canyon partially blocked, they set guards and examined their
surroundings.
"It's not an ideal situation, but it should give us some time to rest. The horses can't go any further," Bray said when
Jasmine met him at the remaining supply wagon. The other had broken a wheel in their flight over the pass. "The
walls curve inward so Cridan's men won't be able to shoot down on us, but they will be able to move the rocks at
the entrance and attack us in mass if we don't manage to sneak out tonight."
"Tell the men to rest while they can. We'll leave before the moon comes up."
Relayed shouts from the entrance alerted Jasmine that an advance scout who had been missing for two days was
approaching. His horse quivered with exhaustion when it stopped beside her and he slid from the saddle to land in a
heap on the ground. Jasmine knelt to examine him and found a broken arrow shaft protruding from his back.
Glancing around, she saw the other men were too distracted with the care of their mounts and tending to their own
injuries to notice what she was doing. She laid her hand over the wound, but found her precautions were wasted.
He whispered two words with his dying breath. "Cridan, here."
#
Nightfall found them unable to leave the canyon as Danaar, and the fifteen men with him, came down over the high
pass. Their reports of Cridan's army camped in the foothills just below their canyon demoralized Jasmine's troops.
She ordered Danaar and Bray into her tent to confer in private before morale could drop any lower.
"They're preparing to attack at moonrise," Danaar informed her as they entered the tent.
We're surrounded!" Bray yelled. "It's all your fault. You led him to us again."
"He didn't follow me," Danaar said.
Jasmine said. "Both of you stop it! He's been chasing us into a corner for months now. This situation was inevitable."
"Milady," Bray protested. "He's led us into a trap, don't you see? He's been working with Lord Cridan all along!"
Before Bray or Jasmine could speak, Danaar grabbed his arm and swept his legs out from under him, dropping him
to his knees. His dagger pressed against Bray's neck. The sergeant sat stunned and speechless.
Jasmine gasped. "Danaar, no!"
"You were no more than a decorative guard in the Highlord's army before he fell to Cridan. Your job was to patrol
the city in your pretty little uniform. Your tactical and weapons training were no more than my men learned in their
first month of service to Cridan." Danaar leaned closer to Bray's ear. "If I'd wanted you and Lady Jasmine dead,
you would have been ash a long time ago."
He released Bray and stepped back to sheath his dagger. Silence reigned for several moments before Jasmine could
find the words to express her anger.
"Don't you ever do that again!" she shouted at Danaar. "With Cridan breathing down our necks, I do not need you
demoralizing my sergeant!"
"And I tire of his constant doubt," Danaar snapped. He pointed in the direction of the enemy's camp. "I personally
trained every man who now serves as Cridan's advance guard. I know what they can do. I know their families, and
yet I will kill as many of them as I need to save you, and still he doubts me?"
Bray finally rose from his knees, his face mottled. Jasmine longed to reach out to him but feared his reaction. She
could see by the range of emotions playing across his face he was far from stable.
"Milady," Bray began, all color washed from his face. "We are in desperate straights and now is not the time for
incompetence. If you trust him, then I surrender my position to the better soldier."
"Rot," Danaar hissed.
"Bray, you will not…"
"Milady…"
"Shut up!" Danaar yelled. He glared at them until they acquiesced. Turning his full attention on Jasmine, he said,
"You didn't tell him, did you?"
"Tell him what?" she asked.
Danaar shook his head. "Bray, you will not step aside. Lady Jasmine needs you. Maybe not as her military advisor,
the Mother knows that's not where your strengths lie, but as her confidant, her friend, and her lover."
Bray jerked as if he'd been slapped and Jasmine felt the blood rush to her face. She stared at Bray through wide
eyes, waiting for his reaction.
He stammered at Danaar, "But I thought you…"
"Loved her?" Danaar asked and Bray nodded. "Love has nothing to do with it. I help Lady Jasmine because it
thwarts Cridan's ambitions."
Jasmine and Bray both stepped back from the anger and loathing in Danaar's voice. "I serve out of hate."
"So what should we do?" Jasmine asked, hoping to shatter the tension that stifled the air.
Danaar grinned, but it was a frightening expression devoid of mirth. "Prepare to die."
"No." Bray stepped forward and clasped Jasmine's hand to his lips. The suppressed passion in his touch was
tangible and she blushed again. He arched his eyebrows in response to Danaar's puzzled expression. "Oh? I
understand something the master soldier doesn't?"
"Enlighten me."
"Hatred breeds despair and darkness." Bray gripped Jasmine's hand tighter.
Danaar waved a hand in a sardonic gesture for him to continue.
Staring into her eyes, Bray said, "Love breeds hope and light."
"So you're going to bore Cridan to death with poetry of love unconsummated?"
"No." Bray took Jasmine's other hand. "We're going to surrender."
"What?" Jasmine and Danaar shouted in unison. She tried to pull her hands free, but Bray wouldn't let go.
"We can't kill Cridan because he hides behind his army, but what if we invite him into the camp to discuss the terms
of our surrender?"
"He has the Highlord's headband," Danaar said. "With it, his magic is too powerful. Even if Jasmine exposed her
talents, we wouldn't be strong enough to kill him."
"Magic can't stop steel," Bray answered.
"It can at a distance. Don't you think I would have shot him through with arrows if it were possible?" Danaar said.
"His guards won't let anyone close enough to stab him."
"They would a woman."
"No," Jasmine whispered.
Danaar's eyes widened and he nodded in approval. "It's risky, but it just might work."
"Yes," Bray said. "Cridan will be over confident, sure of his victory."
"You want me to kill him?" Jasmine asked.
"Isn't that why you've had me teach you to use a sword and dagger?" Bray said.
A commotion in the center of the camp interrupted their discussion. Opening the flap of the tent, Danaar peered out.
"Envoy."
Jasmine brushed her hands on her skirt and over her hair. A part of her longed fleetingly for a bath before she
stepped out to meet her fate. The fear racing through her made it difficult to slow her racing heart. Steeling herself
for what was to come; she strode out of the tent and stopped a few paces from Cridan's envoy. He gave her a
condescending sneer and cited his master's demands. It was a short list: unconditional surrender.
"I will agree to surrender if my men are permitted to return to their homes."
"Unconditional surrender," the envoy demanded.
"Tell your master I will marry him here and now if my men go free." Jasmine raised her chin and regarded him
through narrowed eyes. When her men would have protested, Bray silenced them.
The man hesitated and glanced around at the unhappy expressions on her soldiers' faces. Looking back toward
Jasmine he visibly flinched. "Danaar is not one of your men. Lord Cridan will not agree to his release."
"The captain has sworn…"
"Nothing," Danaar interrupted. "Tell Cridan to get in here before I come get him."
The envoy looked from Jasmine to Danaar then back again. "Your word, Lady Jasmine."
"Shall I write it in blood?" she said with a sneer.
The man shook his head and quickly mounted his horse. As he galloped out of the camp, Danaar shouted after him,
"Cridan's will do!"
#
"He's coming. Jasmine, we need to find a good place to hide a dagger on you." Bray examined the close-fitting
sleeves of her dress.
"They'll search her. Cridan has all of his consorts searched," Danaar said. "She's going to have to risk more than
that."
Bray turned slowly to face Danaar, fury bringing a flush of blood to his face and neck. "He will not touch her."
"That's not what he meant," Jasmine said, her eyes never leaving Danaar's face. "But if he has too much magic for
you, what hope do I have?"
"I'll distract him," Danaar said. Humor danced in his dark eyes. "I know exactly what to say."
"I don't know how to kill with magic," she whispered.
"No," Bray protested quietly. "If his men don't kill her, her own will."
"Then go prepare the bridal tent, pretend soldier and offer your dirty, bare neck to Cridan," Danaar said.
"Enough!" Jasmine ordered. "I'll just have to hide the magic somehow, and not let the men know what I'm doing."
"Cridan always wears a dagger or two. If all else fails, grab one and use it," Danaar instructed.
The sound of galloping horses alerted them to Cridan's approach. Jasmine's men milled about, unsure what they
should do. She ordered them to the rocks at the base of the mountain but did not tell them to drop their weapons. If
Cridan doubted their defeat, the canyon would quickly become a bloodbath yet he would not trust riding into a
group of unarmed men. He would know they were planning a surprise if they appeared to surrender too easily. Bray
stood by her side with his hand resting on the hilt of his sword.
"Don't," she said. "Stand back with the men."
"I can't protect you from there."
"No one can protect me now. This either works, or we're all dead." She looked at the soldiers who formed a half
circle behind them. She closed her eyes and counted his footsteps as Bray took five large steps back. If she failed,
Cridan would show no mercy. It would be a massacre. Despite the months of fighting and running, she had never
contemplated the possibility of her own death. Now she didn't have time to be afraid for herself. Her men and Bray
needed her. It was highly probable she wouldn't live to see sunrise but if she took Cridan with her, it would be
worth the sacrifice.
The large, full moon illuminated the canyon and bleached the world of color. Despite its light, her vision seemed as
dark as the terror in her heart. The fate of Kalon would be decided this night. Her men were cast in stark relief
against the pale gray rocks, their faces tired and worried. The chill night air added to the cold touch of fear that
crept up her back and she saw a few men shiver as well. Bray stood too far behind her to see, but Danaar took a
step forward. As he did, he mindspoke her; something he'd never done before. It nearly shattered her composure.
:Don't be surprised by anything I say. Just be ready to move.
Not trusting her skills to respond through mindspeech, she simply nodded. She watched the captain's face change
from encouraging to cold, calculating rage as he turned his attention to the approaching horses. She swallowed hard,
glad in that moment he was on her side. If she lived, perhaps then she would deal with the guilt of trusting her life
more to Danaar than to Bray. No, she thought, no guilt. Bray was a man, not an animal and right now, she thought
Danaar had a lot more in common with a witchwolf than a person.
Cridan stopped his horse a dozen steps from where she stood. His men hit the ground first and drew their swords
as he dismounted. The soldiers showed the strain of the long hunt, but Cridan was clean and polished. His cream-
colored cape and white shirt looked as if he'd spent the day calculating tithes in his castle instead of pursuing her and
her men over the mountains. She stood poised and feigned calm. Her mother would have been proud to see her
daughter behaving so regally, even if she would have disapproved of Jasmine's plans to personally kill the man
walking toward her.
When Cridan motioned for his soldiers to search her, she held her arms out and turned slowly so they could see she
didn't have any daggers hidden in the waist of her skirt or strapped to her wrists. One man grabbed the edge of her
skirt and jerked it up to examine the tops of her boots. Behind her, she heard Bray's half-smothered cry of outrage.
Enduring the man's touch, she said condescendingly, "I don't think your master would approve if you touched his
betrothed's leg any higher."
The man waited for Cridan to nod, then he backed away and left Jasmine standing alone. Cridan approached
slowly, watching her, obviously savoring his triumph. "You agree to unconditional surrender, Lady Jasmine?"
"No." She glared at the man who had destroyed so much of her world and fantasized all the different and slow ways
she would like to kill him, all impractical given their situation. "I agree to marry you if you allow my men to go free."
He gave a low chuckle. "I don't think you're in any position to make demands, my ragtag queen."
"Then I can die in the battle that's going to erupt if you threaten my men," she said. "You need me. I am your claim
to legitimate rule over Ramirador Province. You didn't fool all of the nobles with your illusion."
"I need nothing." Cridan walked around her. His intense, evaluating gaze made her skin crawl and she felt the bile
rise in her throat.
"If that were true, you would not have chased me for the past seven months."
Cridan turned his attention to her waiting soldiers. They gripped their weapons but made no other move. He ignored
them to look at Bray. "Far from home aren't you, traitor?"
Bray did not respond to the insult and Jasmine said a silent prayer of thanks to the Mother that he didn't respond to
the taunt.
"Your men." Cridan paused and she could see his back straighten and become rigid. "Danaar is one of your men?"
"I'm a free man," Danaar replied.
"You're a dead man," Cridan turned his attention back to Jasmine. Stepping close to her, he said, "Your men are
free to go. Just as soon as they witness our marriage. If you're lucky, I won't consummate it publicly, though it's very
tempting to prove to them and you just who's in control."
"Strange," Danaar interrupted. "I don't feel dead. But that hardly matters since it won't be your son that she bears."
He had pulled a dagger from his wrist sheath and now he used it to clean under his nails.
"Really?" Cridan asked, "And why is that?"
"Because she's carrying my son." Danaar stopped buffing his nails on his shirt and smiled broadly at Cridan.
Jasmine heard Bray's gasp but Danaar's prior warning filled her thoughts: Don't be surprised by anything I say.
Just be ready to move.
When Cridan pulled a dagger and tried to stab her, she fell to her knees, pleading for mercy, desperately keeping
her shield close to her body and deflecting his blow. She clutched his legs, her eyes searching for a rock, anything
she could use as a weapon. There was nothing. Despite Danaar's confidence that Cridan would be wearing
weapons, there were none, not in his boots or waistband. The only weapon was the one in his hand. Fear choking
her, she looked to Danaar and Bray for help. As they threw daggers at Cridan, Jasmine felt his shield flare. Fighting
erupted among the soldiers but she didn't have time to think about that. The daggers fell to the ground, landing softly
on the sand beneath her knees. She lunged for the closest one as Cridan laughed.
"You missed," he taunted Danaar. Jasmine felt him draw his magic to him, but didn't wait to see what he would do
with it. She leapt to her feet and shoved Danaar's dagger upward under Cridan's ribs.
"But I didn't," she said.
Cridan staggered backward, staring at her in surprise. She hung onto the knife as Bray had taught her and when
Cridan tried to stab her, she angled her dagger to slide between his ribs where his heart should be.
:A little to the left. Danaar's words took a moment to register. She pulled the dagger most of the way out and
thrust it back in to the left. In the chaos she had dropped her shield and Cridan's final magical assault knocked her
to her knees.
She clawed at her throat, unable to breath. The world dimmed and she thanked the Mother she'd been able to kill
Cridan, even if it meant her death. As she closed her eyes and consciousness wavered, a warm hand touched her
chest and her starved lungs pulled in a lifesaving breath. She coughed uncontrollably for several minutes, hearing
only snippets of Bray and Danaar's conversation. At Danaar's command, Bray rushed to find her a waterskin.
The cry of "Lord Cridan is dead!" spread through the armies and fighting slowly stopped. The soldiers milled about
in surprise and shock.
"You redeemed Bray's honor as a soldier," Danaar said told her. She frowned in puzzlement, the coughing had
finally subsided, but she still could not speak. Bray pushed the waterskin into her hands and she gratefully took a
sip. When she found her voice, she asked Danaar to explain.
"He taught you to fight?" the captain asked.
She nodded and reached out for Bray's hand. He helped her sit up.
"He taught you well." Danaar stood and walked over to Cridan's body. "Rot. I wanted to do that."
Jasmine and Bray smiled at each other.
Danaar turned to Cridan's guards. They stood huddled together, disarmed by Jasmine's jubilant forces. "All right,
you dogs. Kneel and swear fealty to Lady Jasmine and save me the trouble of killing you."
Bray helped Jasmine to her feet to hear their oath. She surveyed the kneeling men, Cridan's body and then Danaar.
She had used magic, openly and yet they were still willing to swear fealty to her? Were they that frightened of
nobility or did they not understand what she'd done?
"Your timing was impeccable. I don't think anyone saw but me and that was only because I was looking for it," Bray
whispered.
Danaar gave her a sweeping bow then walked over to gather the reins of Cridan's horse. "I'll inform the troops that
they serve a new master now."
With Cridan's men swearing fealty to her, and his life's blood soaking the canyon floor, Jasmine smiled at the
celebrating soldiers. She'd done it. They and their families were free of tyranny. Bray was watching the men when
Jasmine put a hand on his cheek and turned his face toward hers. The hurt and pain in his eyes surprised her. "Bray?"
He tried to pull away and she realized what was wrong.
"Don't be a fool!" she snapped. "I am not carrying Danaar's child."
"Then why did he say you were?"
"He told us he knew what to say to distract Cridan, now didn't he?"
Bray smiled and her heart leapt. Several of her soldiers approached and asked for instructions, but Jasmine stopped
him from answering long enough to give Bray a deep kiss that had her men turning away in embarrassment. She
laughed as realization of their triumph and her love dawned on the sergeant and his face lit up. He grabbed her up
and swung her around before setting her down and returning her kiss.
Pulling back, Jasmine saw the soldiers waiting and she tried to regain her composure.
"Get my camp back in order," she commanded, her lips twitching against her suppressed smile. "We have much to
celebrate."
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