Ivanore turned to look at Jayson. “I can’t believe I’m here at last. I had almost lost hope we’d ever see each other again. That I’d never see—” Her voice caught her in her throat. Tears swelled in her eyes. No, she wouldn’t cry, she told herself.
“I’m such a ninny,” she said, swiping away the offending moisture.
Jayson lifted her chin with his finger. “You’re no such thing,” he said. “You’re brave and bold. Three times now you’ve risked everything to be with me. Imagine how that makes me feel?” He grinned. Ivanore smiled back. It was true. She had given up her inheritance and the trust of her father to marry Jayson. And then when he was exiled, she had left Imaness to find him. And now, she had risked Arik’s wrath to find Jayson once more.
“I’d do it all again if I had to,” she said, her smile fading from her lips. She wanted Jayson to know she meant it. She would do anything, go anywhere to be with him. That would never change.
“I know,” he said. “And I love you for it more than you’ll ever understand.” He bent forward and pressed his lips to hers. His warmth filled her, swirling like an eddy of emotion through every part of her body. It was like the first time they had kissed, and every time after that. The warmth intensified into a burning desire, as if her very being was reaching out for him. He must have felt it too because he slid his other arm behind her and pulled her close to him so that their bodies were pressed tightly together.
When at last their kiss ended, Ivanore laid her head against his chest. “Oh Jayson,” she whispered. “If only things had turned out differently.”
“Shhh,” said Jayson softly. “We can’t change the past. We can only hope in the future. Look here.”
Jayson loosed a cloth sack tied at his waist and removed an object from it. “I’ve kept my word to you. Kept it safe. Now, it’s yours again.”
He laid the half circle of pale green crystal in Ivanore’s palm. It had been so long since she’d seen it, held it. But now its familiarity returned to her like a long lost friend. She thought of everything she wanted to tell Jayson, but it could wait just a little longer.
“I need you,” she said urgently. “I need you—now.”
He nodded ever so slightly, then took her hand and led her to a wooden ladder. He climbed up first and then held out his hand to help her up. Moments later, Ivanore stood in a loft not much bigger than one of the horse’s stalls. There was a small window overlooking the farm and several bales of hay, some buckets, bags of grain, and a stack of folded blankets.
Without saying a word, Jayson arranged several of the blankets on the floor and then motioned for Ivanore to join him there. They knelt facing each other. Ivanore’s breathing sped up. When Jayson touched her, her breathing hitched in her throat and she felt her heart race, but she resisted the urge to throw herself into his arms. Instead, she reached for the hem of his tunic and lifted it past his firm stomach and ribs. Jayson helped the rest of the way, grabbing the fabric and pulling the tunic over his head and tossing it into a corner. Ivanore brushed her fingertips over his chest, relishing the strong curves of his muscles. How she’d missed the feel of him, the scent of him. She traced his shoulders, his biceps, his forearms.
Please, she prayed, don’t let this be some cruel dream.
Jayson reached for her and untied the bow at her throat. The cloak fell noiselessly in a heap of wool onto her legs behind her. He unlaced her blouse, slowly as if he had all the time in the world, and followed each freed inch of skin with a kiss. But it wasn’t until he braced his hands against her back and guided her down onto the blankets, when she felt the weight of his body on hers, that she knew this was no dream and silently thanked the Gods for it.
***
When Ivanore awoke, the loft was dark except for a beam of moonlight spilling in through the window. How long had they lain there? She had lost track of time. Jayson slept beside her, one of his arms curled protectively over her. She took the opportunity to again slide her fingers over his now relaxed muscles. He was so strong, a trait he inherited from his human father. Full-blooded Agorans were lean and lithe, like felines. She couldn’t imagine how difficult it had been for Jayson to grow up in a community where he was so different from everyone else. He had never felt like he fit in anywhere, not with the Agorans, not among humans. Until he found Ivanore, he had told her once. With her, he was always at home and at peace.
Ivanore listened to Jayson’s breathing and to the soft occasional deeper breaths of the horses below. She imagined all the families from the farm sleeping soundly in their beds, parents and children existing together. She thought of Kelvin and Marcus back on Imaness. Jayson still knew nothing of Marcus. That would be the first thing she’d tell him in the morning, that he had two sons. Two heirs. And then they would make plans for leaving Hestoria and returning home to their boys. They would finally be a family. They would all finally be together.
She lay back down, careful not to disturb her husband.
Her husband.
How long it had been since she’d used those words? A satisfied smile crept onto her lips. She was half tempted to wake him, to seduce him again and again. But it could wait a few minutes longer. In the meantime, she cupped the crystal he had given her in her hand and considered what she would do with it now that it was back in her possession. She had first given it to Jayson as a keepsake, when he’d been exiled from Imaness. She’d fail to foresee how much trouble it would cause. Maybe, she thought, once they were on a ship heading home, she might drop the stone into the sea and let it sink to the bottom. She would be done with it all then—the stone, her calling as Seer, the Vatéz.
Through the window, Ivanore noticed that the sun was rising, the sky was alight with an orange glow. But that couldn’t be, she thought. She could have sworn the window was facing west, wasn’t it? And she was almost sure it was too early…
She carefully shifted Jayson’s arm off her abdomen and sat up. She reached for a blanket and wrapped it around herself then got to her knees. Scooting closer to the window, she peered out.
Some of the cabins were ablaze.
Cones of flames spiraled up through their roofs. She could hear it now too, the harsh crackle of it greedily consuming in seconds what had likely stood for decades.
“Jayson!” Ivanore screamed. “Jayson, they’re burning! Everything is burning!”
27
Jayson sucked in a sharp breath, startled awake from a deep slumber. He rubbed his eyes, took a moment to take in the yellow haze through the window, his wife’s fearful expression.
He leapt to his feet, pulling on his trousers in a single, fluid motion. He did not bother with his tunic.
“Stay here,” he told Ivanore, then swift as a bird, he was down the ladder and out of the barn. He tore across the fields toward the Guardians’ homes. The flames were beginning to eat at the the cabins. If he hurried…
As he neared them, he counted half a dozen already burning. These were no accidental fires, he understood that immediately. Someone had intentionally set them.
Then when he spotted the first Vatéz soldier, he knew that they were in danger. They were all in danger.
Jayson ran with the desperation of a deer fleeing a predator, hoping to reach the remaining cabins before the soldiers did. He threw himself against the first door, pounding his fist against it.
“Get out!” he shouted. “Get everyone out now!”
The door flew open, and Gerard peered at him through groggy eyes. “What is it—?” he started to ask, but his eyes widened as they took in the wall of flames behind them. Gerard shoved Jayson forward. “Go on then! Hurry!”
Jayson moved from cabin to cabin, shouting orders, pounding on doors and windows to wake the inhabitants. Within minutes, the families were running outside, mothers grasping their children’s arms.
“Get water!” one man shouted, but Jayson shouted louder.
“No!” he called out. “Take your families! Run to the forest, to the mountains. There
isn’t any time!”
But with the roar of the fire and the cries of the children, they only stared at him, confused. And then the first soldier reached them.
He was a tall, muscular man with sculpted features and determined eyes. He sat on the back of a white horse, the reins held confidently in his left hand, a sword gripped tightly in his right. He said nothing as he took in the frightened people.
A few men with their wives and children made a dash for the trees, but from the forest appeared a dozen more mounted soldiers, some with arrows aimed at them. More soldiers came from behind the cabins, others seemingly from the flames themselves. The Guardians were surrounded.
Jayson knew no words would change the hearts of these men. There was no point in pleading for their lives. The Guardians, stirred from sleep and still dressed in their night clothes, trembled in fear, their weapons, for those who owned them, remained useless within their homes.
Jayson cursed under his breath. The Guardians had become so accustomed to farming, to safety, that they also had become complacent. They had been too confident in their peace.
Jayson flexed his claws. He tightened the muscles in his arms and chest, but for now he kept his hands to his sides.
“Arik sent you here for me,” said Jayson, addressing the lead soldier. “I’ll go with you freely. Just let these people alone.”
The soldier gazed down at Jayson with an expression of cold determination. In that single look, a bolt of recognition shot through Jayson. He had seen this man before, at the slaughter outside Ralen-Arch. This was the Vatéz’s head commander. The thought flickered in his mind—was this the same man responsible for the deaths at Alay-Crevar? For the burning of Brommel’s wife and child?
“I don’t want to kill you,” said the commander, “or these people. I’ve come for the crystal. Hand it over, and I’ll leave you all in peace.”
Jayson raised his empty palms. “I can’t give it to you. I don’t have it.” And it was the truth.
The commander considered Jayson for a long moment, and an expression of disappointment, of regret, passed over his face. But then he gave a sharp nod toward his men, and the soldiers moved their horses into action. They lunged into the crowd of helpless Guardians, their swords hungry for blood.
Jayson moved like lightening too, slashing at the nearest horse with his claws. The beast dropped and rolled over its master, crushing the young soldier instantly.
Jayson whirled and buried the claws of his right hand into a second horse’s flanks. The beast reared, throwing his mount. The man hit the ground with a thud and Jayson finished him off with his claws through the man’s chest.
There were screams. As quickly as Jayson moved, there were simply too many of them. He couldn’t count them all. The enemy swarmed the cabins like locusts, hauling out those who hid inside by the hair. They took no interest in whether their swords tasted the flesh of men or women—or children. The Guardians fell one by one and lay in pools of their own blood, but soon the pools spread, joining together into one great splash of red.
From behind him, Jayson felt a sudden increase in heat and the sound of glass exploding. He spun to see a handful of soldiers darting away from the big house with torches in their hands. The wood of the house sucked in the flames as if drawing a breath, the conflagration already consuming it.
Jayson felt his heart shatter. Nira!
The woman was likely still in bed asleep. Jayson shot one last hateful glare at the Vatéz commander, and then ran for the house.
28
Ivanore tugged on her clothes. Of course Jayson wanted her to stay in the barn. He was concerned for her safety, but she had to do something. She couldn’t stand by and watch everything Jayson had fought for, the home of the Guardians and their families, destroyed.
She snatched Jayson’s discarded cloth pouch, dropped the crystal inside, and cinched it shut. Then, tucking the pouch into her bodice, she made her way down the ladder, collecting a splinter in her palm on the way. She ignored the irritation as she hurried past the stalls toward the door. The horses whinnied furiously, nodding their heads and stomping their hooves. There was a wild look in their eyes.
“It’s all right,” said Ivanore, pausing to stroke the mare in an effort to soothe her. “They’ll have the fire out in no time.”
She gave the horse a gentle pat and continued out the door. It was worse than she had realized. It wasn’t just a few cabins that were burning; the house was engulfed as well. How had this happened? Who was responsible?
Then she heard the first scream. Ivanore turned toward the cabins and saw men and women, their children tucked protectively between them, standing in a huddled mass near the cabins. But they were not alone. They were surrounded by Vatéz soldiers, some on horseback, others on foot. There were dozens of them, each with a sword in his hand. And each sword was pointed at the throat of a Guardian.
“No,” whispered Ivanore, the reality of the situation dawning on her.
The unlocked door. The absence of any guards in the castle. The odd sounds in the forest. The eyes in the trees.
Her escape. It had all been nothing but a show, and Ivanore had been the unwitting star. Arik had let her go free, and she had led the Vatéz right to the Guardians—and to Jayson.
Ivanore absorbed the scene before her as if time had slowed to a crawl. More soldiers moved between the cabins, furrowing out dozens of Guardians and herding them into the mass. But the Vatéz were not content to round them up. Hungry for blood, they killed without hesitation. Those who tried to run were mercilessly cut down like stalks of corn. Within minutes, Ashlin was in chaos—the dead sprawled across the earth, the living screaming and pleading for their lives only to be ignored and silenced.
At first, Ivanore watched in muted shock. But then rage exploded in her. She grabbed her skirt with one hand and, while running into the melee, raised her other palm and aimed it at the nearest soldier. She had no time to worry about whether she still knew how to control her power or how many years it had been since she’d used it. She didn’t care. The fury inside her was all she needed.
Heat instantly coalesced deep in her gut and sliced up through her chest and down her arm, bursting out of her palm in a searing column of light. It hit a soldier’s head just before his blade came down on a boy. As the Vatéz’s skull exploded in a spray of brain and bone, the boy rolled away from the falling sword, and Ivanore focused on the next soldier and the next.
Half a dozen soldiers dropped dead in as many seconds, before Ivanore finally drew a deep, unsteady breath. She’d forgotten how magic could drain a person, how it exacted its toll. As the Seer, she was stronger than most, could wield magic longer and farther than a typical enchanter before feeling its affects, but she had tapped into every ounce of power she had, probably far more than was necessary, and she felt the weakness overtake her.
She had to pull back, just a little. She was still recovering from her journey, from the fever and Arik’s attack on her. And she hadn’t used magic in years, not more than a few times, and even then it was barely a whisper of magic. She was out of practice, and still too feeble to be of much use. Still, she had to try. If she could kill a few more soldiers, allow the rest of the Guardians to escape…
Ivanore lifted her palm again, preparing for another assault. Even in the seconds she had paused, more Guardians had died. She focused on the deepest part of her, reaching inside for the power she knew was there, but it was harder this time. She managed two surges of heat, two direct hits, two more Vatéz down.
Then she saw Jayson.
He came through the door of the big house, the edifice ablaze behind him, carrying something—someone—in his arms. Both were covered in black soot, their clothes scorched. Even from where she stood, Ivanore could see that they were both badly burned. Blood covered Jayson’s arms and face, and the sight of him wrenched something deep inside Ivanore.
He moved swiftly from the porch to the field and laid the body he carried on the gro
und. But in seconds, a Vatéz soldier found him. Jayson stepped over the body and faced his attacker. He rolled his shoulders forward, flexing his claws and baring his teeth like a wild animal. His eyes narrowed into slits, intent on the soldier in front of him. Jayson lunged first. There was no hesitation as the soldier blocked the assault with his blade, which cut into the flesh of Jayson’s seared right arm. A stream of blood began to flow.
Ivanore screamed, “Jayson!”
At the sound of her voice, both Jayson and the soldier turned toward her. Ivanore, grateful for the momentary diversion, raised both palms. This one would get everything she had. No mercy. But as the soldier’s eyes connected with hers, her heart went cold.
It was Erland.
Arik had sent Erland to slaughter the Guardians. How could she have been so stupid? It was he who had left her door unlocked that night. Erland, the man whom she had allowed into her confidences, had deceived her.
Ivanore felt all her strength leech out of her. She dropped her hands to her sides, stunned by the betrayal.
In that moment of distraction, Ivanore watched in horror as a second solider stole up behind Jayson. With Jayson and Erland’s eyes on Ivanore, the other soldier whipped his sword forward and plunged it through Jayson’s back. As the tip instantly pierced through his chest, the Agoran howled. Ivanore gasped. She had felt the blade as sharply as if it had cut into her own body. The jolt of her visions of Jayson collided with the present, thrusting her back. She stumbled, but quickly fought to regain her balance, to take aim once more.
Erland spun on the soldier. He shouted something that Ivanore could not make out, but the soldier pulled his sword free and cut an arc across Jayson’s lower back. Jayson fell forward onto his hands and knees. Blood was everywhere, permeating the earth below him, the scent of it thickening the air. And all around him Guardians continued to fall.
Ivanore blinked back burning tears and plumbed the depths of her soul for the final traces of magic. Her well was nearly empty, but she collected what she could and directed one last volley of heat at Erland.
The Crystal Keeper BoxSet Page 20
