Betrayal Read online

  Betrayal

  Lara Morgan

  www.escapepublishing.com.au

  Betrayal

  Lara Morgan

  From fantasy writer Lara Morgan comes the second in her engrossing, enchanting, exciting Twins of Saranthium trilogy, perfect for curbing Game of Thrones withdrawals.

  Shaan and Tallis have escaped from the fallen god, Azoth, but his dark shadow stretches over the enslaved the people of the Wild Lands and the terrifying army of human-serpent warriors. War is coming, but the Council of Nine turn from the twins and their tales of Azoth’s menace, focusing instead on a war on the Free Lands.

  Meanwhile, the Four Lost Gods have awoken, ready to reclaim the Birthstone currently in Azoth’s possession. But rather than the saviours Shaan and Tallis needed, the Four begin to exert terrible control over the people of Saranthium. With Tallis struggling to control the might power within, and Shaan attempting to resist the pull of Azoth, the twins are under assault from all sides. Victory may still be possible, but only through a devastating act of betrayal.

  About the Author

  Lara Morgan has loved fantasy since her mother first read her The Hobbit and The Lord of the Rings (those Dark Riders still give her the shivers) and her book shelves are stacked precariously with more fantastical adventures than she will probably be able to read in one lifetime. She loves feisty heroines and heroes with depth and prefers to create villains in shades of grey rather than black and white, taking a tip from one of her personal heroes Joss Whedon who said: “All villains believe they are the hero of the story”.

  Lara also writes for young adults and you can find her online at www.lara-morgan.com or blogging when she has time at www.laramorgan.wordpress.com and on twitter @Lara_Morgan.

  She lives in Geraldton, Western Australia, with her husband and son.

  Acknowledgements

  Thanks to my family for their unmitigated support and enthusiasm: Fay, Serena, Simon (especially for the website), Adrian, Julia, Ruth, Rob, Rhiannon, Antony, Mum and Dad. Your names are now in print for posterity. Thanks to Mike for the books on battles and advice on tactics, and to Amanda for reading one of the final drafts, helping me to cut my darlings, and for all that reassurance and those conversations about Stargate. Thanks to Kath for tea when I needed it and champagne when I needed it even more, and for an unwavering belief in my work.

  Definite gratitude must go to my agent, Clare, who read the first draft and saw the gold not the rock.

  And last but never least, Grant, who has put up with all the insecurities, antisocial tendencies and oddness that writing a novel produces and has never once said I should do anything else. Thank you.

  For my mother,

  who read me Tolkien

  and opened the doors

  to new worlds

  When the old awake, the two must sunder.

  From her pain shall come the light

  And so into darkness go.

  Who will sing her home?

  Contents

  About the Author

  Acknowledgements

  Prologue

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33

  Chapter 34

  Chapter 35

  Chapter 36

  Chapter 37

  Chapter 38

  Chapter 39

  Chapter 40

  Chapter 41

  Chapter 42

  Chapter 43

  Chapter 44

  Chapter 45

  Chapter 46

  Chapter 47

  Chapter 48

  Chapter 49

  Chapter 50

  Chapter 51

  Chapter 52

  Chapter 53

  List of Characters

  Glossary

  Bestselling Titles by Escape Publishing…

  Prologue

  Night had fallen over the ancient city and with it came the rain, drifting like mist over the walls. The moon was hidden behind cloud and the street lamps guttered and flared in the wet, casting a dim, orange-hued light.

  Azoth strode through the rain-slick streets, an Alhanti at his heels.

  ‘Have some slaves start work on this tomorrow.’ He pointed to a large ruined building on his left. It had no roof and most of the walls were only waist height, the rest of the stone lying in piles on the cracked pavement.

  The Alhanti grunted a guttural reply in the affirmative.

  Arak, azim have finished the gate. Nuathin’s voice came into Azoth’s mind and he saw the ancient serpent gliding toward him from the city wall.

  Good. Pick one of them to be rewarded, he replied, and felt hope surge in the old serpent. He wanted to be chosen to be merged with the mortal. Azoth smiled.

  Not yet, faithful one. I still have need of your wings.

  The disappointment in Nuathin’s mind was palpable but Azoth ignored it; there were others to consider first.

  He glanced back at the seer being led by the Alhanti. Alterin, they called her. She met his look with a fearless contemplation which amused him. Seers. They all thought themselves untouchable. Even Fortuse — the original Seer, their creator — had underestimated him. She would regret her resistance.

  They passed between the ruins and emerged into Temple Square. The buildings here were almost whole again. There were new doors on the temple and its black stone walls hummed with the sound of the Birthstone, safe now under the domed roof.

  ‘Why are we here?’ Alterin said.

  ‘Consequence.’ He stopped and reached out to stroke the dark hair of her head. A memory surfaced, one so old it came only in a drift, like a dream.

  Her face. It flashed into his mind. A whisper, then it was gone. His hand almost trembled as he turned away from the seer’s gaze.

  She had been from the same people as this seer. Weakness, he berated himself. He had left that old pain behind centuries before. Growing his empire had eased it and the growth of his new empire would erase it; as he would erase those sibling gods of his who had caused it. He smiled. He would have so much to share with Shaan when he crept once again into her dreams.

  ‘Come.’ He motioned the Alhanti to bring the seer into the temple. ‘I have something to show you.’

  ***

  Alterin’s heart beat fast as she entered the inner chamber of the temple. The creature had his hand curled tightly around her upper arm, threatening to pull her joint from its socket if she moved away. She could not bear to look at it, at the thick, serpentine skin that covered its neck from the newly formed crest to the wide shoulders. She did not want to look up at the face and recognise the young man she had once known. He had lived in her village, had played with her as a child; now there was nothing left of him but the shell of his body — so much larger now, so much something else.

  Again she wondered why the spirits had chosen her to bear witness. ‘Uriel’ they had marked her: witness to unspeakable things. She was not sure she was strong enough to survive it.

  ‘You see —’
Azoth turned, spreading his arms wide to encompass the room, ‘— the beginning of a new world.’

  Alterin said nothing. In the centre of the cavernous space, suspended by unseen forces, the glowing Birthstone hovered. Surrounding it were three cocoons, each connected to it by a skein of light. Dark shadows lay in the centre of each of the sacs, waiting to hatch, and nearby one more skein of light hovered, tendrils reaching for its next offering.

  ‘Do you have nothing to say?’ He regarded her.

  ‘Nothing I say can change your will.’

  ‘You may be surprised.’ He looked behind her. ‘Come.’ He spoke in the serpent tongue, a soft hiss that raised the hairs on her neck.

  A sound like knives scraping on stone came and a black-skinned serpent pulled itself through the archway. Its talons clicked on the polished floor and it shuddered and blew out a hot breath, yellow eyes regarding her as it passed. Alterin fought a compulsion to back as far away as she could. It was one of the older serpents, so ancient she felt its insanity peeling behind it like a wake left in water. It was one of the six that had first begun to attack the people of the deadlands before Azoth returned. She wondered if this one was the black beast she had seen in Tallis’s mind.

  Azoth’s gaze fixed on her, his eyes violet black.

  ‘You know I don’t like to hear that name,’ he said. ‘Even unspoken.’

  ‘Why?’ Alterin said. ‘Because he beat you? Because he took Shaan away?’

  Azoth flicked rainwater from his shirt. ‘I let him take her, a mistake I will rectify — to his detriment. But you should be concerned about others now. Fetch him.’ Azoth spoke to another Alhanti waiting in the shadows and cast the seer a knowing smile. Alterin felt a moment of fear. Fetch who?

  ‘Tell me,’ Azoth said, ‘what would you do to save your lover’s life?’

  ‘Alterin?’

  The voice almost brought her to her knees as the Alhanti dragged Jared through the entrance.

  She cried out and the Alhanti at her side struck her, knocking her to the floor. She tasted blood as her head smacked against the cold stone.

  ‘Alterin!’ Jared struggled to get to her.

  Azoth strode over and yanked her up from the floor so she could see Jared’s face, frantic with fear and rage as he pulled uselessly against his captor’s grip.

  ‘Let her go!’ Jared glared at Azoth, but the Fallen only smiled and looked at Alterin.

  ‘This is your choice, seer. Tread the spirit paths and track my siblings and he lives. Defy me and he dies. I could feed the serpent his blood right now.’ He pressed one fingernail into her flesh. ‘Or shall I kill you both?’

  Alterin wanted to scream with fury. The spirits had not forewarned her of this, they had not helped her. This was not a choice. She had not seen Jared since Azoth had brought her to the palace weeks ago. She had hoped he might have escaped, run south. Some from her village had, fleeing the jungle when Azoth had first come, before he could stop them. But Jared had stayed — for her.

  His face was scratched and bruised, his shirt bloodied and ripped to shreds where they had whipped him. She could not bear the look of love and defiance in his eyes.

  ‘Don’t,’ he said, ‘he can’t make you help him.’

  But he could. Jared was not afraid to die, but she could not let him go. The weight of her answer was like a stone around her neck.

  ‘Alterin, no.’ Jared held her gaze. ‘One for the many, my love. Be strong.’

  Azoth knew already what her answer would be. ‘Say it,’ he said, his mouth near her ear.

  Her voice when it came out was a whisper. ‘Let him live.’

  ‘So be it. Take him to the Stone.’

  ‘What?’ Alterin cried. Comprehension filled Jared’s eyes, and he began to shout her name as the Alhanti dragged him toward the grasping skeins of light.

  ‘No!’ She turned on Azoth. ‘You said he would live!’

  ‘And so he shall, as an Alhanti.’ Azoth’s face was impassive.

  ‘No!’ She surged in his grip. ‘I won’t do it! I won’t find them if you do this.’

  ‘Yes, you will.’ His tone was calm, matter-of-fact as the first touch of light hit Jared’s skin and he began to scream.

  Witness, the spirits whispered, and despair overcame her.

  ***

  Paretim and Fortuse had been travelling through the mountains for five days when they came to an isolated village. The settlement was small, barely more than one hundred people. The woods surrounding it were tall and ancient and the road that passed through it was rarely travelled. The people of the village had grown used to living simply and asked few questions about what went on beyond the lanterns that marked the boundary of their town.

  The scrawny youth cleaning the bar at the village inn was the first to see them when they came through the door. He’d seen strangers before, but mostly they had been in the woods, fleeting shadows glimpsed from the corner of his eye. These two were different. He could see it in the way the man looked, unblinking, around the small room, smell it in the complete absence of sweat you would expect on travellers, but mostly he could feel it in the faint tingle that went up his spine. He’d seen one other like them in the woods ten days before when he’d gone out to fetch the goats in: a man, tall and light-footed with short white hair. He’d glimpsed him running, fleet as a stag, through the trees. The youth remembered having the same thought then as he was having now: unnatural.

  He watched the innkeeper approach them. He could tell Kreegan was nervous by the way he kept wiping the front of his shirt down, as though he’d spilled something on it.

  The man said something the youth couldn’t hear and when he talked he looked past Kreegan as though he were talking more to himself than to another person. As if Kreegan were a post, or a dog.

  The woman standing next to him was the most beautiful woman he had ever seen. She was almost as tall as the man and had long, curling red hair, lips plump like wild berries and breasts swelling pale and rounded above the square neckline of her dress. But something about her made his balls want to crawl back up inside his body. He kept wiping down the bar, hoping they wouldn’t want to talk to him, but then he sensed the man standing in front of him.

  He looked up and stopped, the cloth balled in one fist soaking up the sudden sweat in his palm.

  The stranger smiled, bright blue eyes watching. ‘You saw another come here before.’

  It wasn’t a question and the youth knew if he lied this man would know it. He licked his lips and wished someone else had gone to fetch the goats that day. Fat Dewy, the smith’s son, or that runt Geffin.

  The stranger watched him, unblinking, and behind him the woman was staring around at the straw on the floor and smoke-stained walls as if she’d never seen the like before. He swallowed.

  ‘I seen a man in the woods,’ he said, cleared his throat then added, ‘he was running.’ He didn’t know if that was important but he said it anyway.

  The tall stranger with the dark hair nodded. ‘Yes. In which direction?’

  The youth shrugged. ‘South, I reckon. Down the mountain.’

  The man let out a laugh, short like a cough, and looked around at the woman as though he was sharing a joke. The woman smiled and the youth noticed with a jolt that her eyes kept changing colour: grey then green, and as she looked straight at him they went blue, just like the man’s.

  He stepped back until he could feel the shelf behind him, glad of the bar that separated them. He looked at Kreegan, but the innkeeper was just staring at them, as if he was watching his house burn down.

  The youth wondered who they were, why they were here. The strange man stopped laughing and suddenly turned back to him as though he’d heard his thought. He looked at him for a moment then said, ‘We’ve come to save you.’

  ‘From what?’ the youth asked, twisting the cleaning rag between his hands.

  The man smiled and it was only later, when the boy felt his soul being liberated and the woman’s cool
fingers possessing him that he understood. They were godless no more.

  Chapter 1

  The city of Salmut, Saranthium

  Shaan couldn’t pull her left arm through the water properly. It drifted out from her body like weed as she tried to stroke forward. She grunted and forced her arm above the surface then splashed it back down again, pain spreading from her shoulder to her fingers.

  ‘Again,’ Tallis said. He stood beside her, waist deep in the water, one hand under her stomach to keep her afloat. ‘Do it again, and this time use your shoulder muscles, stop flipping your arm forward from your back.’

  ‘I wasn’t,’ she said.

  ‘You were, I could feel it. This time I’m going to let go. Now — kick.’ His hand disappeared and Shaan went under. Salt water went up her nose and into her mouth as she tried to swear.

  She saw the seabed below her, sand billowing up from Tallis’s feet as he moved back. In fury she kicked hard and pulled forward with her good right arm. Her left leg couldn’t keep up and she drifted in a circle back to her brother, bumping into his hip. He pulled her to the surface.

  ‘Dung-faced muthu herder!’ She grabbed his forearm and pulled herself upright, spitting out seawater.

  ‘Put your weight on both legs,’ Tallis said.

  ‘I am.’

  He held her elbows to steady her as she pushed her hair off her face and wiped the water from her eyes. ‘You’re not. I can tell,’ he said.

  ‘All right!’ Shaan allowed her weight to fall on her left foot. Dull pain told her the muscles were taking the load, helped by the buoyancy of the water. For a moment she held on to her brother’s arm and looked down at their feet under the water as the sand drifted away in the current, leaving the sea clear.

  Behind them the waves washed against the beach and she could just hear the faint shouts of riders in weapons training echoing from the cliffs above. They had been coming here for a week, every morning just after sunrise, to swim in the sheltered bay below the serpent yards. It hurt — it was excruciating — but she had to admit it was working. She could walk now and her left arm was regaining strength and motion.