Splinter (Trapped Souls Book 1)

by Ricki Delaine

  His reaction caught her by surprise. “No. I have to get back,” he said again. Ria agreed. Everyone knew the best healer in the province worked at the palace. But she knew by how unsteady he was that the Protector would never make it there. He needed help and rest, first.

  And she would have to be stupid to think that seeing the healer at the palace was his main priority at the moment. Obviously, he had something else in mind. But before she could begin to protest, he raised a hand to his mouth and whistled, long and loud and sharp. It was then Ria noted the horse he’d ridden earlier in the day was nowhere nearby.

  When nothing but silence greeted his call, he frowned and whistled again. He muttered something under his breath and started moving in the direction of the road. Concern must have given him strength, for he pushed away from the young woman and forged ahead, calling. “Ash!” The whistle again, sharper this time.

  After what seemed forever, they heard an answering call – the nicker of a horse and the sound of steel-shod hooves. When the dark maned head finally appeared through the trees just ahead, the relief on the man in front of her was visible. “Ash, you fool horse.” But the tone was far from angry. He stepped forward, laying a palm against the horse’s neck, the other on the white strip that ran down and over his muzzle. Ria watched the quick way he looked the horse over, his eyes running over a shallow gash in the animal’s neck and settling on the dark streak running down his right foreleg. Seeing now that he was bleeding, Ria’s brows drew together, worried suddenly that they might have to put the beautiful animal down. Keeping a gentle hand on his horse’s nose, the Protector reached down, fingers careful over the injured limb. Finally, he sighed and looked up, meeting the young woman’s gaze. He easily read her concern and said, “He’s okay. It is pretty deep, but it should heal fine if I keep it clean.” She released the breath she didn’t realize she’d been holding.

  Ria had never been this close to such a beautiful horse before. At Kino’s, she hadn’t really had a chance to get near it. Now though, he was close enough to touch. He was the tallest she’d ever seen, his coat so dark it blended into the shadows of the forest. Clean-limbed and finely muscled. He must be fast and strong. Wryly, she thought if she had a horse like this she could finish her deliveries every day in no time flat.

  Of course, if she had a horse like this, she wouldn’t be making deliveries. She’d be having things delivered. Only the wealthy or well provided for would have such a valuable animal.

  Once satisfied the stallion was all right, the man turned back to Ria. “I appreciate your help, but you should leave.” His eyes glanced around the area, somehow indicating the bloodied carcass, his and the horse’s injuries all at once. “It’s not safe.”

  Almost rolling her eyes at the understatement, she bristled. “It’s not safe for you either.” Looking back at the unmoving creature, she pushed back her shudder. “You’re certainly not going to be able to kill another one of those things with those injuries.”

  He looked at her sharply and snapped, “I know that. And it’s my risk to take, not yours. I won’t have you killed for my benefit and because I can’t defend you.”

  “I can take care of myself.”

  He snorted, eying the wound on his horse’s withers. “From talons that can do that?”

  Reluctantly, Ria’s gaze followed his.

  One side of his mouth turned up. His voice softened. “Listen. Ria, was it?” She nodded. “I really am grateful for what you’ve done. But I will not see you hurt. Not for me. This,” he lifted his chin, again taking in himself, his horse and the dead thing all in one go, “Is none of your concern.” He peered through the edge of trees, up into the night sky, saying softly, almost to himself, “I have a few hours before dawn. If we stay in the forest there should be no further trouble.”

  She frowned, glancing at what looked like a perfectly good road, just beyond the tree line. She hadn’t ever traveled this way before, but surely it would take less time and be less stressful on his injuries. Or maybe not, she thought, when her eyes fell again on the dead creature nearby. The path of broken branches it had left in its wake, before settling finally to die at the base of that tree. It had come from the direction of the road. So, without further comment, she turned to follow the Protector. She watched him taking hold of the bridle, turning, and she couldn’t help but see the wince as he stepped forward. He took a deep breath and another step. The wince was smaller this time. “Let’s get you safely home.” Biting back her protest, the young woman followed him back towards the way she’d come.

  The path back to the village was darker and longer than she remembered. Now that she wasn’t rushing headlong through it, she could see how deeply into Eiji Forest the boy had brought her. Sounds she could barely recognize, let alone identify, were whistling and clicking oddly around them. Even with the comfort of the Protector’s presence and the solid step and breath of the horse following them, the sounds made her jumpy. She kept seeing that monster in her mind’s eye, the skeletal frame of its wings and the lethal edge of its claws. It didn’t matter that it was dead, there could be more.

  What if it isn’t truly dead? Walking a bit faster, she told herself she was almost home. Glancing up at the man next to her, hearing the slight hesitation as the stallion stepped on its injured leg, she realized that the Protector’s world definitely was not a safe place. Maybe she should stay away from the palace and this mysterious man. Maybe she should stick to delivering her vegetables and wishing for a donkey to cart them around for her.

  Yes. That was a very good idea.

  She desperately hoped that when she finally got home and finally fell asleep again, she wouldn’t dream at all. She didn’t think she’d be so lucky.

  Much sooner than she expected, they reached the village. Sooner still, they were standing outside of her house. The Protector’s dark eyes looked over her modest home, all that she had left of her mother and father. His mouth quirked up in the smallest of smiles. “I am getting the idea that you have a talent for trouble, Miss Ria.” She almost laughed at the title, except for the expression he wore.

  He paused, looking first in the direction of the palace and then back to her again. “Stay away from that place.” He didn’t have to say where, they both knew what he meant. “There is nothing but heartache for you there.” He bowed slightly and turned away, heading for the path that led out of the village.

  After the Protector and his horse faded into the darkness and she was safely in her home, Ria tried to push away the image of his hand covering that horrible injury. The grimace of pain as he turned to head back to the palace. She tried to forget the pain in his voice, barely hidden beneath the anger, when he spoke of not being able to protect her.

  She found it wasn’t an easy thing to do at all.

  Chapter 6

  The moon had traveled almost all the way across the sky when Theron finally reached the stables again. He almost skipped them, more intent on getting Lynea, but he needed to get some better gear to tack up Ash. He also needed to see to those cuts or they’d infect. His stomach clenched at the thought of Ash getting sick.

  Gritting his teeth at the creaking sound of the heavy stable door, he put his uninjured side against the frame and pushed again, trying not to notice how difficult it was to catch his breath. Clicking softly, he walked into the stable with Ash obediently following him. He lit a couple of lanterns and grabbed a few rags from the trunk of gear near the front of the room. Wiping down his horse, he hissed in sympathy at the gouges the claws had made on the animal’s shoulder. He went over it again, looking for something he could have done better. He came up blank. The horror had made virtually no sound, there was only that odd whistle that caught his attention just before it struck. Thank the gods for that small favor, or they’d likely both be dead.

  The cuts were fairly deep into the muscle, but without anything that looked like it would spoil their healing. He washed them out thoroughly, to be sure they wouldn’t infect and put lini
ment on them. Theron had hope that his horse would be whole again in a couple of weeks. In the meantime, as long as he didn’t ride him hard, the injury shouldn’t trouble him.

  His own injuries, on the other hand, were a different story altogether.

  Having taken care of Ash, he could put it off no longer. Sitting on the bench near the stall his horse was now tied to, he jerkily removed his leather tunic, peeling back the torn linen of his undershirt to reach the makeshift wrapping the village girl had laid across his ribs. “Ugh.” He could see the rough stitches the girl had done. As he’d said earlier, she had done well. The puncture wound had gone right through the meat of his side. He gently felt around it. It didn’t feel wrong, so he hoped nothing important had been a part of it. The bleeding he had done earlier had done a lot to flush it out. To be safe, he ran water over it as best he could, ignoring the scream of nerves as the cool water reminded them they were exposed. He used some clean linen wraps to redress it and when he was done, tipped his head back against the wood frame, pushing back nausea and a wave of dizziness.

  He’d lost some blood. He’d be okay. Sure.

  He had to be, he couldn’t risk the delay (or the questions it would raise) in going to the healer.

  Now. To his shoulder. That was easier said than done. He knew the claw had torn through the tough leather on his shoulder, digging into the meat there. Again, “just” through muscle. He hadn’t lost the use of the limb, but it burned like fire whenever he lifted his arm. And the effort it had taken to clean the other wound left him more drained than he’d like to admit. But he’d better move now, or he may just lay down and not get up again. Gritting his teeth, he ran some water from the bucket he was using over the gash, dried it as best he could and grimaced at the pain as he awkwardly covered it. And then that left him with a problem. He’d have to get past the guards to get to the lady’s rooms, and even lazy as they were, they were sure to notice something was out of the ordinary if he walked in reeking of blood and wrapped in linen bandaging.

  Grimacing, he closed his eyes, shaking his head to clear it. His movements were slower than they should have been and he was having trouble focusing. Though he’d not had any choice in the matter, he found himself cursing the way the fight with that creature had gone. If only he’d moved faster. If only his first strike had been true. He wouldn’t be so weakened at such a critical time.

  The sound of footsteps over the packed dirt of the stable snapped his head up.

  “What … What is this? What’s happened?” Theron knew the man’s face, but didn’t know his name. He had been a guard since the previous summer. Theron would have been inclined to let the man be, find some way to explain this mess away. But when the man’s brows furrowed, his gloved hand crossed his body to unsheathe his katana, and when the guard’s mouth opened to call out to the other sentries, the decision was taken from him.

  Almost before the thought registered, Theron found himself across the space between them. The man’s startled expression at finding a knife at his throat would have given him a grim satisfaction, if his stomach weren’t rolling from committing such an act of betrayal. This man served the palace also. He was, indirectly, part of Lynea’s protection as well. Desperation made for desperate acts, it seemed.

  “Silence,” he hissed, betraying no hint of the pain he’d caused himself with the wrenching movement. He looked the guard over, noting the quick flash of anger, chased by alarm, when the blade pressed in more firmly. Theron had thought the untimely visit would mean disaster, but perhaps not. He needed a disguise. The guard might be larger than he was, but he didn’t need the whole uniform, just enough to get him through to the guarded entrances, without being stopped. Besides, he didn’t particularly want to strip the guy. This was already going to be difficult enough.

  Several minutes later found the Protector working his way to the back of the palace. His best chance would be to enter through the practice yard. How ironic that he’d probably be using the same tree that young woman had to gain access. His thoughts strayed to her fortunate appearance earlier in the evening. The fight with that creature had taken a lot out of him – he wasn’t even sure how long he’d lain there after killing the thing. Looking back, he could easily see the danger he hadn’t recognized at the time. Blood loss had fogged his mind, dulled his senses. Even now, he wasn’t recovered from it. If that girl hadn’t showed up, he’d likely have passed out. He might have bled to death.

  He put that disturbing thought out of his mind.

  The sky had filled with clouds and the moon was covered now. It was almost ridiculously simple to avoid the patrolling guards and make his way to the courtyard. He thought with dark humor that it was a good thing he hadn’t spoken with the head of the guards about the lapse in security.

  Oddly, there was no one to stop him from entering the palace proper. Quietly, he headed down the darkened hall, treading softly to avoid causing the wooden floor to creak. The softly flickering light from lanterns along the wall made the shadows surrounding him shift unnervingly. After the night he’d had, he was understandably jumpy. They flowed across the walls, making it appear that people were behind the thin shoji doors as he passed room after room. He knew that wasn’t the case. The honored guests that would be staying in this wing wouldn’t be arriving for a few days. That was of course, why he’d come this way.

  His relief was short-lived, however. As he made his way through the dimly lit hallways, he couldn’t help noticing that the guards that had been in place earlier were nowhere in sight. The change-over for the shift was due around this time, but it was unlikely (actually, impossible), that all the posts would be empty for any reason. When he passed by the third unattended station and entered the royal wing unchallenged, what started as unease moved fully into dread.

  The lady’s chambers were near the end of the wing and would be the first he encountered. Once he convinced her of the need for them to leave, he could take what he needed from his own quarters while she packed.

  The hallway here was more brightly lit. He could hear the rustle of leaves outside through the hall windows – wedged open to let cool night air flow through the hallway. He tapped quietly on the frame of the paper door. “My lady.” He shouldn’t be here, now, this late at night. He had never done this before and had no idea how she might react. He could only hope that she wouldn’t be alarmed and call for the guards before she realized it was him.

  There was no response. Mouth tightening, he risked calling out to her again, keeping his voice low.

  He heard movement from the far side of the room, the sound of feet shifting on the wooden floor. The frame of door shifted, sliding open a few inches. The opening was too small for him to see her face. “Mamoru, why are you here at this hour?”

  Relief washed through him. He still wasn’t sure how to explain this to her. He couldn’t just blurt out what he’d been told. He still had no proof. Only servants’ stories and a mad woman’s words, and the instinct that those words were truth. “I …” he looked around the hallway, to see if the guards were returning. It remained empty and silent. “I need to speak with you.”

  There was a pause that made his heart beat faster, and then she said, “You may speak with me in the morning, Mamoru.” She stepped away from the door and out of his sight. Something was off. The Emerald Lady never addressed him so, unless there were others around or she was teasing him. As far as he knew, they were alone and she certainly wasn’t teasing him now.

  “My lady, are you all right?” Before he spoke the last word, there was a short muffled sound, suddenly cut off. And then silence.

  “Lynea?”

  There was no answer.

  Before Theron knew he was doing it, he was moving. Reaching out, fingers slipping into the groove in the wooden door. It slid open soundlessly and he stepped through, one hand on the dagger at his hip, sharp eyes sweeping around the darkened room.

  The open window did little to relieve the black, the cloud cover must have bec
ome thicker outside. Instead of a softly moonlit room, gray-black shapes surrounded him. Those he made out, square and rectangular shadows told the story. The room was empty. Cursing softly, he moved further into the space. No sooner had he done so, when a dark shape detached itself from the far wall. A person. Theron’s mind supplied that it must have come from the door to the adjoining handmaiden’s quarters. This was no handmaid, however, the form was too tall and broad in the shoulders.

  A low laugh. “Mamoru. What brings you here at this late hour?” It was the Emperor.

  Anger flared, overriding obedience. His words snapped into the air, filling the space between them. “What have you done? Where is the Emerald Lady?”

  “You mean, my fiancé?” Theron couldn’t see it, but he could hear the smirk in the other man’s voice. “She doesn’t seem to be here. Mamoru, why is it that you don’t know where she is?”

  False innocence laced the ruler’s voice, with an undercurrent of malice that sent a chill into Theron’s heart. Even without that, his presence erased all doubt. The Emperor had done something to Lynea. That sudden startled sound could have been many things, none of them good. He should demand to know where the lady was and if the Emperor refused, do whatever was needed to find out. But years of rigid obedience pressed hard against the ugly reality of this moment. The Emperor was as near to godhood as Theron was ever likely to see or touch.