“Father!” The word escaped before she could stop it. All along, she’d known this was a possibility, yet her heart still pounded with panic.
“Easy, Ash.” Captain Nurrowford rested a hand on her shoulder. “I’ll do what I can to get us all out of this alive, including your father.” His hand squeezed firmly once, then let go. Without another word he moved forward.
She followed the outline of Nurrowford’s broad shoulders as she desperately tried to keep her mind blank. Worry would invite disaster into her heart. It would weaken her to the point of uselessness.
All along the lupwyn army’s front lines, more bundles were unwrapped, revealing more of her father’s men. They looked scared, disheveled...but whole. For now.
The scent of magic wafted on the breeze. Ashayna turned to where Queen Marsolwyn stood next to Crown Prince Sorntar.
“I did not mean to bring blood upon this ground. For that I beg forgiveness.” Queen Marsolwyn’s mental voice echoed louder than Ashayna remembered. Several soldiers jumped. A few looked around baffled, while others made signs against evil. Apparently, their unique method of speech could be used upon a crowd. Ashayna didn’t want to learn what else magic could do. Instinct or something else must have guided the soldiers, because rank after rank, they faced the lupwyn queen.
Marsolwyn continued. “There is an old tradition among the elemental races, dating back from a time of chaos before we learned to live in harmony. We used it to settle grievances between two warring peoples. Each side would choose a champion. Those two opponents fought in a duel to show their willingness to sacrifice their freedom for peace. The victor was free to return to his people, but the loser forfeited his freedom and put himself in his enemy’s keeping. By the laws of this tradition, both sides must come to a peaceful agreement or anger the gods.” Marsolwyn paused, her ears flicking forward in Ashayna’s direction. “So I ask, which one of your followers is brave enough to pay the price of peace?”
Ashayna focused her thoughts for a private word with Marsolwyn. “I can’t cross swords with one of your kind. My magic flares if I’m in danger. Your mate plans to answer the challenge for your people, doesn’t he? By his look, he’ll take this beyond a bloodless duel. My magic will react accordingly. For the sake of my family, no human must ever know of my magic. It would not be only me who suffers for it. Besides, Captain Nurrowford will never allow me to answer this challenge.”
“Don’t worry over your magic reacting to danger to you. I’ve talked with Sorntar. He’ll answer the challenge before my mate does. As for you not being able to answer the challenge—they can’t stop you if they can’t see you. Kandarra will bring you her mage-cloak so you can approach Sorntar’s location undetected. Once you reach him, he’ll prevent anyone from interrupting the duel.”
Ashayna flicked a glance at the phoenix. Sorntar looked just as irate as he had earlier. “How’s fighting him any better? He looks like he wants blood, too. It’ll be my blood if he finds out my Larnkin was responsible for his hasty arrival.”
“Ah, Sorntar is a gentle one. His Larnkin merely has him out of sorts.”
Out of sorts? Ashayna snorted, gaining a nearby soldier’s attention. She scowled and ignored his quizzical look. “Fine. So I should fear his Larnkin. It can’t be pleased with mine.”
“Oh, I wouldn’t worry.” The thread of laughter in her voice did little to ease her mind. “His Larnkin is the least of your concerns, little human.”
* * * *
Sorntar watched the nervous shifting and scented an underlying odor of panic as the humans faced a much larger army poised to attack. The subtlest gesture—a flick of an ear, the raising of a tail, even just a bunching of muscles in the lupwyn king’s flanks—and lupwyn warriors would surge forward. The king, Ryanth, looked to be moments away from doing something. Sorntar sighed. It wouldn’t be avoiding bloodshed—Ryanth’s ears swung forward too eagerly at the mention of duel. Marsolwyn was right— her mate wasn’t in any kind of mindset for a challenge. He’d kill the poor human with the first swipe of his claws.
Sorntar stretched his wings; blue fire hissed and flared in the wind. A number of humans looked back in his direction, the terror on their faces easy to read despite the darkness surrounding them. “Humans, I claim Right of Challenge. One of your numbers nearly caused my death.” A cruel note, residual darkness from his Larnkin’s anger, echoed in his voice. It surprised Sorntar, but added a note of danger. The closest humans moved away a few paces. He smiled.
King Ryanth snarled at him. Sorntar tilted his head in Marsolwyn’s direction, acknowledging where his ‘decision’ to answer the challenge had originated. Before the lupwyn could respond, Sorntar threw one of his twin blades out before him. The sword flew end over end in a graceful burning arc and landed with its blade partly buried in soft loam. He speared the closest human with a determined look. “One of you, take up my sword and fight. If you give me even a bit of challenge, I may go easy on you.”
There were a great many whispers and much shuffling about as orders were issued and relayed, but no one stepped forward. Marsolwyn’s plan was flawed. These humans were too fearful. None of them would answer the challenge, not willingly as was required.
Frustration stirred in his gut. This wasn’t where he wanted to be, what he wanted to be doing, or—more to the point, what his Larnkin wanted him to be doing. Both he and his Larnkin wanted to solve the mystery of the mind he’d touched. Whoever she was, her mind had been strong, and her determination to be free of him so powerful she’d gained her freedom. To the best of his knowledge, the only mage prisoners were his sisters and Marsolwyn. If not a prisoner, who was the other woman he found so interesting? Was it she who had interfered with the Gate—nearly killing him?
Once the challenge was over, he’d hunt down the woman who stirred his Larnkin’s interest.
He sank back down on his perch to wait.
* * * *
A tall, slim figure moved between human soldiers, being careful to squeeze through or weave around obstacles. As he came closer, Sorntar saw why. A mage-cloak offered protection against human eyes, but his passage would only go unnoticed if he avoided running into anyone. To Sorntar’s disappointment, the cloak also prevented him from learning much about this person.
The evening breeze carried the newcomer’s scent—pleasant, with a hint of saltiness, feminine. A female? Here? Sorntar didn’t think humans permitted their women folk to learn fighting skills. By her ease of movement, a young, confident opponent faced him.
Within him, his Larnkin stirred, its emotions a mix of confusion, wanting, and sleepy pleasure.
It was her—the woman who had touched his mind earlier. It had to be.
A dozen paces distant, she unclasped the cloak and let it pool around her feet. A ripple of surprise—and something else—slid through Sorntar’s Larnkin. Eagerness? Despite never meeting her before, he sensed a familiarity within her.
She moved with grace, her long strides covering the distance quickly. A pace away from the sword, she stopped and tucked her braid down the back of her leather vest. The movement drew his eyes to her gentle curves, that slight softness an alluring contrast to her otherwise toned body. She was reaching for the sword, the first tongues of flame licking at her fingers, when another human ran forward, bellowing threats and curses.
With barely a thought Sorntar formed a barrier behind the girl, preventing the male from coming closer.
From behind the barrier, the officer’s eyes bored into the woman’s back. “Ashayna, this is not your challenge to answer. Come here at once.” He slapped his thigh, then pointed at the ground directly in front of him. “That’s an order.”
“It’s too late. I’ve already answered this challenge.”
“You don’t understand the risk.”
“Risks—those I understand completely.” Then much lower, almost under her breath. “More so than you realize, Captain. Be glad of your ignorance.”
“Ash, don’t do this. Let on
e of my men...”
Sorntar added another layer to his shielding, blocking all outside sound. Much better.
The woman hesitated for a split second, her trembling fingers poised to grasp the burning sword. With a sigh, she squared her shoulders and closed her fingers around the hilt. Her bravery impressed him. Not many humans would touch a magic talisman, especially not while it burned. She rolled the sword around, her wrist flexing as she tested the sword’s balance. It cut through the air with a wavering hiss, blue flames danced along its heated length. Adjusting her single-handed grip to a two-handed one, she ran through a quick warm up, before she inclined her head in his direction.
She had to be responsible for the Gate incident, but why had she attacked? Still, this new revelation explained why Marsolwyn and his sisters had come. A human with a Larnkin needed investigating.
For the first time since he had heard of their capture, the tight knot of unease in his middle began to uncoil. This human, strangely, calmed him in some unnamed way. Now, if he could only get through the coming fight without theatrics from his Larnkin. He stepped off the warm stone and traversed the broken ground.
“I am Sorntar, Crown Prince of the Phoenix. You honor me by answering my challenge. Might I ask the name of the one brave enough to do so?” He stopped a bare pace in front of her and was pleased to see she held her ground without flinching or cowering back from the heat cast by his fiery wings.
“Ashayna Stonemantle, scout in the Emperor’s Army. I will do anything to save my father’s life.” Her voice was pitched low and smooth. She gave him an elegant bow, which seemed at odds with her leathers, light armor, and weapons.
“Father? I think there’s an interesting story here.”
“Perhaps after the duel?” Eyebrow raised, she saluted him with her sword. “And are there any rules I should be aware of?”
“No killing. First to bleed loses. Pretty much anything else goes.” He eased back two steps and arched his wings out behind him. Blue fire hissed and flared as he moved. The way her eyes widened as she tracked his wings wasn’t lost on him. It wasn’t fear he saw, though. Perhaps he wasn’t the only one with questions and a large dose of curiosity. His earlier rage diminished another small notch; still there, but at least he could think about something other than ripping into humans with his talons.
Ashayna studied his wings a moment more, and then relaxed her arms, extending them out before her with the sword’s tip nearly touching the ground.
Clearly, her opening was a deception. A brief hint of humor curled in his chest, a smile ghosting across his lips for a moment. More than willing to be lured into her trap, Sorntar lunged. Her blade snapped up into position, meeting his and deflecting the point.
Quicker than he thought a human could move, Ashayna cut upward at his crest. A bare heartbeat ahead of her stroke, he whipped his blade up into a defensive position. Moments flashed by, but her blow never landed. Instead she feinted and reversed her swing. She swiped at his legs. Sorntar leapt clear of her strike—barely. Surprised and off balance, he stumbled backward. Ashayna followed him, her sword’s point uncomfortably close. She crowded him, her nearness preventing him from using his longer reach and greater strength to full advantage.
Swift, sharp strikes continued to meet his blade. While each impact didn’t have a devastating force behind it, she still rained blows down upon him in rapid succession. Adapting to her style, his blocks grew swifter. Surprise at her skills melted away as he warmed to the fight, testing her. A human’s stamina wasn’t equal to that of his kind. He knew her swift agility had a cost—sweat already beaded on her brow. With a couple brutal moves on his part, he could end this fight before it had truly began...but finding out just what Ashayna was capable of might prove more interesting.
Ashayna came at him again. Their blades met, hilts tangling together. With a grunt he knocked her sword aside. She kept her grip but stumbled, her momentum carried her to the side. She slammed into his wing and crashed to the ground. He spun around to follow her, thinking it a trick. She crouched on the ground, her back turned to him.
Her voice came to him muffled. “No rules, right?”
Then in another surprising burst of speed, she turned and tossed something at him. A small cloud of dust and pebbles pelted him in the face before he could shield his eyes. Cursing, he backed away.
He blinked his watering eyes. The blurry shape of Ashayna lunged forward, sword pointed out ahead of her. Sorntar braced himself and kicked off of the ground while flapping his wings to hold himself aloft. With a swish of snapping flames, her blade’s edge cleaved the air, narrowly missing his feet. He dropped back down to the ground amid a small storm of blue fire, dust, and a few pieces of clipped tail feathers. Anger flowed through his blood. No one had marked him in combat in many seasons, yet this human had—he’d allowed her to maim his tail.
“Flying is cheating.” A smirk spread across her face. “Sorry about the tail feathers.”
Sorntar retaliated with a series of slashes and thrusts, driving her back several paces.
She blocked each of his strikes, but didn’t waste energy on anything fancy. He inclined his head at her show of discipline.
“Maybe I’ll give you a haircut, human.”
She rushed him, binding their blades together at the hilt, and took him by surprise when she pushed his blade aside with ease. She slammed her sword hilt into his abdomen. He grunted. His opponent was stronger than a human should have been. When Ashayna came in closer, he inhaled a deep breath, scenting her magic.
“Using magic to strengthen your assault should also be cheating.” When his remarked gained him a puzzled look, he tried a different tactic. “You’re using magic to make yourself stronger.”
Her coloring darkened to an angry red. She lunged at him again. Even though she was fast, he was prepared for her and moved faster. He hooked his arm through hers, spun her around until her back was to his front. Reaching forward he closed his hand around her wrist and applied pressure between the bones until she released her weapon with a yowl. Once disarmed, he hoisted her into the air until her feet dangled a hand’s span above the ground.
The enraged human shouted colorful curses at him—a full half of them he didn’t know the meaning, the rest rather too clear. Her head slammed back into his chest—she’d likely been aiming for his chin, but he was too tall. She twisted in his arms, her legs scrambling for traction. Before she managed to land a painful blow, he tossed her away from him. She stumbled onto her knees, and then flat out on her belly as all breath escaped in a sharp hiss. It was no act this time.
He turned his back upon her and retrieved his other sword.
Footfalls coming up behind him warned of Ashayna’s move. She certainly had spunk. He turned his head in time to glimpse her as she threw herself forward, a long bladed dagger aiming for his thigh. Sorntar spun away. Heat from her knuckles caressed his skin. The little human had come far too close that time.
Well, it was a fight to the first blood and neither of them bled yet. With a shrug he tossed a sword hilt-first to Ashayna. She caught it, a mild look of surprise on her face. Then she grinned, her white teeth flashed at him.
“That was stupid.”
“Perhaps, but this is the most enjoyable fight I’ve had in ages.”
With a snarl she closed in on him again, so near he could smell sweat mixed with the scented soap she used to clean her hair.
He used the opening to snap a wing out, catching her in the chest. She wheezed and fell back a step. He followed, his sword tip hovering near hers as they continued to circle. She darted inside his defense, sword thrust at his middle. Sorntar twisted barely in time. The hot edge of her weapon brushed his side in one dangerous line.
Twice she’d nearly had him. Perhaps he’d been a little too arrogant to fight without armor. “Charming. Trying to impale me or gut me? You do know this is merely a battle to first blood.”
“You’re fast.” Her voice was strained. “Figured y
ou’d get out of the way...only hoped...to bleed you a little.”
“Not just yet. Perhaps another time, sweetling.” He’d meant for his words to come out sarcastic, but they lacked a sharp edge. Though, by the way he had to leap out of the way as she renewed her assault, his words still annoyed her. He matched her strike for strike. She was almost a match for him, their blades dancing in a blur of bright steel and blue flame. But as time slipped by, Ashayna began to falter. Her sword arm continued weakening despite her magic.
“How can you…not…even be breathing hard?” Her voice rasped, yet she still managed to infuse it with a strong note of displeasure.
“Two hearts and lungs twice the size of yours. Flying requires much strength.”
“That’s hardly fair,” she grated out between ragged breaths.
“No. I suppose it isn’t.” Sorntar rolled his shoulders in a shrug.
“You’re a better fighter. End this while I can still stand.”
Ashayna let her guard slip. His sword tip neatly sliced a shallow cut along her upper arm. Using his blade’s edge, Sorntar made another cut in his own arm. Then with steady fingers, he brushed his talons along the cut and mixed it with the sample of hers. He held his bloody fingers out to her. She dabbed some of the blood off his talons while giving him a suspicious look.
To show her there was no bad blood between them, Sorntar raised his talons to his lips and sampled the cooling liquid. Even before the pleasant coppery taste had fully registered to his senses, his Larnkin struck. A surge of magic, powerful like a strong mountain river in spring, caused his wings to tremble as the Larnkin tried to force his way free.
His Larnkin scented his bondmate. Fear, spurred by the knowledge that the only thing his Larnkin needed to temporarily summon its full strength was to link with Ashayna through the ties of shared blood, helped Sorntar maintain his focus and fight for control.
With a small fragment of his consciousness not committed to battling his Larnkin, he noted her look of revulsion. It lasted a moment, about as long as it took her to notice his power beginning to crawl up her arm. Her look changed to fear, followed by anger. He attempted to release her and found he did not have control of his hand.
Betrayal's Price (In Deception's Shadow Book 1) Page 5
