The Nivaka Chronicles Boxed Set

by Leslie E Heath

  The first blush of dawn painted the pale stone building blue when Aibek finally arrived. The dragons all landed on the lawn, and the citizens flooded in around them.

  Aibek counted the dragons and riders as they landed and gave a sigh of relief when none showed any serious injury. Bartel had a scrape along one hand and a scratch on his right cheek, and several others had minor scrapes and cuts, but all were walking. Including Marah. Relief weakened his knees at the sight of her, unscathed and whole. He fought the urge to sweep her up in a crushing embrace. Twelve dragons, including Gworsad. Ten riders, not counting Aibek. His chest squeezed at the sight of Dorrel’s unmanned dragon, and he wondered how many of his friends and classmates had died fighting on the walls. He might never know.

  The dragon riders gathered behind him on the palace steps, and Aibek searched for the words to let the gathered citizens know he hadn’t come to replace the tyrant who had ruled for the past several weeks.

  Midway through the crowd, a familiar face caught his eye, and Aibek smiled.

  “High Constable Cadwy, will you join us?”

  A crease appeared between the old professor’s bushy white eyebrows, but he moved through the throng to the front, where he stood in front of Aibek on the gleaming marble stairs.

  Aibek cleared his throat and spoke in a voice that reverberated through the courtyard. “I have not come to take over this city or the kingdom she represents.”

  A murmur went through the crowd, but Aibek continued. “I’ve come simply to free you from the force that took you by surprise and has ruled without honor or justice. I have no wish to be your king.” He met Marah’s confused gaze and pressed on. “No, I’d rather reinstate the government that has ruled for so many hundreds of years. High Constable Cadwy will oversee the army and will take command until elections can be arranged to select a new king.”

  “What are you about, boy?” Cadwy whispered. “You led the force that freed us; you’re the king.”

  Aibek shook his head. He pitched his voice low enough so only the elderly constable could hear. “No, I don’t belong here. I belong in the forest, with the people my father loved so much.”

  “Maybe you should take the night to sleep on it. I don’t know many who’d turn down the chance to be king.”

  “Do you hate us so much that you’d rather run away than lead us?” A male voice shouted from the crowd.

  “Of course not.” Aibek stifled a laugh. “I love this city. I grew up here. I know many of you by name. I love you enough that I want to return you to the prosperity and peace you’ve had for generations.” A cheer went up, and he waited until the crowd quieted. “I’m not sure that I’m the best person to lead you into that peace, so I’ll let you choose your leader.”

  “What if we choose you?” Another voice, this one female, shouted.

  “Then I suppose I’ll have no choice. But know this— I want the very best for you and for this city, and the lands she rules beyond her walls. I never even graduated from the academy. There are many who are more qualified to lead you than I am. I hope you’ll choose one of them.”

  Before anyone else could voice a plea for him to stay on as their ruler, Aibek turned and strode into the palace. His heart pounded in his ears. He hadn’t been prepared for their pleas. He didn’t know what else to say to dissuade them. And he could hardly wait to be back in the forest with his friends.

  * * *

  “Merdarou Emrialk! Bokinna emrleri! Bruanna ati dorn!”

  Faruz struggled to translate the foreign shouts. When he failed, he turned his attention to discovering their source.

  The words repeated again and again, coming from dozens of points along the forest’s border. They continued rhythmically, a growing chant breaking the stillness of the night.

  His hand paused, an inch from an injured man’s lips, and the last drop of tincture dripped into the soldier’s mouth. Faruz barely noticed.

  First one, then a dozen, then a hundred elves strolled through the tree line and into the clearing. They continued the chant until they’d all made their way onto the battlefield. Valasa and twenty others in Gadonu robes followed them out of the forest.

  Faruz bit back a relieved sigh but couldn’t contain it. Valasa made a beeline for Faruz’s position and held out a handful of vials of the Bokinna’s tincture. A heavy black leather bag hung around the healer’s neck, and bottles clinked softly within it when he moved.

  “I’m so happy to see you,” Faruz said when the old man didn’t move away. “I’m guessing the elves drove the emrialk away?”

  “They did. They tried before but couldn’t overpower the bloodlust while the battle was still going. Once the fighting stopped and you moved the dead and dying away from the forest, it was easier to drive them off.”

  “You think that was easy?”

  It took a moment for the speaker’s identity to sink in, but once he recognized King Turin, Faruz dropped to a knee in the blood-soaked grass.

  “Oh, stand up, boy. You’re the one who was out here fighting and making sure I still had a forest to rule over.”

  Faruz forced a smile and stood.

  “We weren’t idle while you fought, though. Don’t think that. We took care of the enemy soldiers who had already entered the forest and the ones who thought they’d poison the Bokinna again.”

  Faruz considered that and nodded. “I doubt any within the forest have been idle this night.” He gestured to the injured soldiers on the ground. “Now that the Emrialk are gone, can we move them into the villages? We need to get them out of the wind and cold.”

  Valasa nodded. “I’ve got an idea. We can use the dragons. Stay here.” He rushed off without explaining his plan, but Faruz didn’t have time to puzzle it out.

  He turned his attention back to the hundreds of injured and dying men and women on the field, distributing one drop of tincture to each. He handed the extra bottles to other uninjured warriors and had them do the same.

  As a group, they worked their way through the field of blood and death, reviving those they could save and placing sheets the elves provided over those they couldn’t. There were far too many sheets.

  Light had begun to brighten the horizon before Valasa returned. He carried a stack of blankets so tall he could barely see over them, and several dragons followed behind him. The dragons each carried a long log that had been stripped of all its branches and leaves.

  The dragons set their logs down parallel to one another, and Valasa set to work spreading the blankets between them. Faruz gave his last drop of tincture to the man he was tending and stood, examining Valasa’s work and trying to discern the old man’s plan.

  He gave up after a moment and strode over to help and to learn what the healer had planned.

  “Here, take this. Fasten this blanket to that log,” Valasa ordered as soon as Faruz was in hearing distance. The healer handed Faruz a small hammer and a handful of tacks and turned back to his own work. Faruz did as he was told, though he still hadn’t figured out the purpose. He dragged a hand over his eyes, pushing away the weariness and working to complete the task Valasa had given him. He was too tired to even try to figure out why he was doing it. Instead, he swung the hammer in time with the others nearby, keeping to their rhythm and letting the sound cleanse the night’s memories from his mind.

  When he’d finished, he straightened and looked to Valasa for his next task, more than pleased to relinquish command now that the battle was over.

  “All right, now, bring those men over and lay them here on the blanket.” Valasa’s voice boomed in the pre-dawn quiet.

  All at once, the realization dawned on Faruz. Of course! The blankets and logs were huge litters that the dragons could carry. They could move dozens of injured at once, and cut the morning’s work down to a fraction.

  Faruz worked with Dalan, lifting and moving one person at a time onto the makeshift litters. When one was full, two dragons worked together to carry it to the villages. Faruz hoped there were eno
ugh people left in the villages to move the people off the litters and into houses where they could be taken care of.

  The sun rose and bathed the battlefield in light, illuminating the dead, the patches of scorched earth, and the tatters that remained of the tents. Some warriors with only minor injuries had helped load the more dire soldiers into the litters and had stayed behind to help with the cleanup.

  Grief and loss squeezed at Faruz’s chest at the sight of the rows of bloodstained sheets filling the field. There had to be a better way.

  “You have done well, my child.”

  The Bokinna’s voice brought up gooseflesh on his arms, and Faruz paused in his chores. She couldn’t hear his thoughts, could she? He worried for a moment, his eyes finding Zifa’s tired form where she tended to the wounded who still waited for their turn to be carried to the villages.

  “You have led your people to freedom. You have helped those who were injured and given them a chance to recover. And you have saved the one you loved. Why do you still judge yourself so harshly?”

  “So many are dead. Too many. Surely there must be a way to save our homes without such needless losses?”

  “Perhaps, someday, there will be. Until then, you will continue to protect my forest and your loved ones.”

  Faruz bowed his head, unable to keep his eyes on the hundreds of dead. “What do you know of Aibek? Has he won in Xona?”

  “He is beyond my reach, but my Dodonni tell me he has won the battle and destroyed the enemy leader.”

  Relief and exhaustion made Faruz’s shoulders sag. Zifa hurried to his side.

  “Are you all right?” She pressed a hand to his back and handed him a water skin.

  He accepted it gladly, drinking until he emptied it, and handed it back. “I’m fine. I’m just a little tired. And the Bokinna has just told me that Aibek won his battle in Xona.”

  Zifa whooped in happiness, drawing stares from the ragged soldiers left on the field.

  “Helak is dead,” Faruz whispered. “This whole nightmare is over.”

  Zifa smiled and placed an arm around his waist, pulling him close. “And what will you do now, city officer?”

  “Stay in Nivaka and raise my family in peace?” He grinned and pressed his forehead to hers, heedless of the sweat and grime that covered them both.

  * * *

  Aibek strode to the rear of the palace through the same winding corridors he’d traversed earlier in the night and found an empty room where he could safely lock the door and attempt to talk to his parents. He needed their guidance more than ever.

  Pushing away the anxiety and grief of the day, he focused his mind, searching for the Bokinna or the Saethem or his parents or any other willing and friendly presence.

  “Mother? Father? Are you there?” Despite his best efforts, desperation crept into his mind at the prolonged silence that answered back.

  A knock at the door drew his attention back to the sitting room, and he turned just in time to see Marah step through the ornately carved wooden door. He frowned and stared at her. He’d thought he’d locked that door.

  “I hope this isn’t a bad time,” she said, closing the door behind her. “I need to talk to you, and it can’t really wait any longer. I’ve put this off too long already.”

  He’d been poised to tell her it wasn’t a good time but changed his mind at the seriousness in her tone. “All right. Have a seat.” Aibek gestured to the plush upholstered chairs encircling the fireplace and waited until Marah had seated herself.

  Settling into a chair near her, he met her worried gaze. “What’s wrong?”

  “Well, I…” She dropped her chin to her chest and refused to meet his eyes. “I don’t want you to turn down the kingdom for me.” Her eyes darted up to his, then back to the fireplace. “Of course, I don’t know that you are, but if you are, you shouldn’t.”

  Aibek swallowed hard and tipped his head to one side. “I don’t understand what you’re trying to say.”

  “Look, I like you, a lot. And I think you like me,” her words came in short bursts, and she still wouldn’t meet his eyes. “But there’s something you need to know.”

  She gripped her hands in her lap, squeezing until her knuckles turned white. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to lead you on, really, I didn’t.” She paused and took a deep breath.

  Aibek froze, terrified of what she had to say next, but unable to stop her.

  The rest of her words came out in a rush so fast Aibek had to focus to make sure he caught it all. “I’m with child. I was with child before our night together in Kainga.”

  Aibek had no words. He could only gape. Tears ran down her cheeks. He’d never seen her cry before. He longed to comfort her but didn’t know what to say or how to make her feel better. None of his experience had prepared him for this.

  He said the only thing he could think of, “Who is the father? Do you love him? Should I step aside and let him raise his child?”

  Loud sobs erupted from Marah’s side of the room, and this time, Aibek couldn’t contain the urge to comfort her. He crossed the room and settled into the chair beside her. He gathered her in his arms and pressed a hand to the back of her head, letting her spend her tears onto his shoulder.

  He let her cry until her sobs dissolved into random, uncoordinated hiccups. When he was sure she’d finished, he pulled back and asked again, “Who’s the father?”

  “He was killed in the battle for my village. Saham is free, but Cane is dead, and I’m alone.”

  Marah dissolved in a fresh wave of tears, and a barrage of helplessness more powerful than anything Aibek had ever experienced washed over him. He held her for an interminable moment, then pulled back.

  “What would you have me do? I’ll raise the child as my own, if that’s your wish, but I won’t force myself into your life.”

  “Would you?” She sniffed and hiccuped. “Would you really?”

  “I would—I mean, I will. But we don’t have to make any solid decisions tonight. We’re both worn to the bone. Let’s get some rest, and we’ll talk more in the morning.”

  He stood and grabbed her hands, tugging gently until she stood. Unsure whether it was the right thing to do or not, he pulled her into his arms and held her until she sighed and pulled away.

  “You’re right, of course. Let’s get some sleep. We’ll talk more tomorrow.” She smiled then, a sweet, sad little smile that pulled at his heart and made him more determined than ever to make her his forever.

  “I’m going to meditate for a little while. You go on to bed.” Aibek held the door for her and closed it softly behind her.

  The fire crackled on the hearth and Aibek sank into the nearest chair, staring hard into the flames. Somehow the coals he’d burned his entire life felt strange and foreign since he’d spent a year in the forest. He missed the comforting scent of a wood fire. He missed more than that, he realized with a sigh.

  “Mother? Father?” He scanned the room, hoping to see them appear in one of the corners.

  Nothing happened.

  He sighed again and stood, rolling his shoulders to ease his sore muscles. Before he managed a step toward the door, a huge yawn took him by surprise. When he could see again, he started and dropped back into his chair. His mother stood between him and the fire, her face drawn and sad, her hair wild, but her clothes as impeccable as always.

  “Are you all right? What happened?” The grief in her eyes stabbed fear into his heart.

  Kiri wiped a hand over her face and faded to near transparency. “It was horrible,” she whispered. The words tumbled over themselves as she told him all that had happened that night and in the months leading up to it. Anguish choked her when she reached the part about Eddrick’s demise. She had to try several times to get the words out.

  Shaking, Aibek held out a hand to his mother’s fading form. Tears streamed down his cheeks, unheeded. “What happens now?”

  “I… I don’t know. I have to go back to the city of the ancients to f
ind out. I can’t imagine living an eternity alone. It may be time to be reborn. I’d love to feel the dirt between my toes and the wind in my hair. I want to stay in the forest, though. Eddrick loved the forest so much.” Her face twisted in grief once more. She spun away from him and leaned on the hearth, her shoulders shaking with the force of her sorrow.

  Unsure what else to say or do, Aibek stood and reached out to comfort her, but his hand passed right through her. She didn’t acknowledge him, so he sat back down and let her cry.

  Slowly, Kiri regained her composure. Her sobs quieted and her shaking slowed. When she was ready, she turned to face Aibek.

  “You look so much like him,” she whispered. Her misery was a palpable thing, filling the room and almost making Aibek forget his own grief. “Tell me, what’s happened here? You look exhausted. I guess you’re the new king. Will you rule from here? Or will you travel between Nivaka and Xona?”

  Aibek shook his head. “I’m not taking over the kingdom. I’ve never wanted to be a king.” He explained how he’d appointed a stand-in and planned to hold an election within the month. When he’d finished, he drew a deep breath and told her about his conversation with Marah.

  “What will you do?” She asked. “Do you love her? Will you make the child your heir?”

  After a moment’s hesitation, Aibek answered, “I do. I think I’ll raise the child as my own—including making him my heir. Give him all the love and the family he deserves…if Marah will have me, that is.”

  “What if he’s a she?” Kiri smiled at the thought of her son raising a daughter.

  “Then I’ll raise her as my own. She’ll learn to fight, to listen to the forest, to hunt and fish and swim.” He paused, considering. “—and of course whatever else she wants to learn will be fine, too.” He stopped and grinned. “Does this mean I’m going to be a father?”

  “Yes, I think it does.” Kiri kissed his cheek, and Aibek felt the touch as a breath of icy air. She pulled back and stared hard at his face. “I’m being summoned. If they send me back to the living, I may not be able to come to you anymore, but I’ll never forget you, and I’ll always be nearby.”