Rhetahn cuffed her ’round the side of the head.
“Ow!”
She whirled on him, but before she could verbalize the castigation on her face, the ground shifter leapt off the boat and vanished under the water.
The bluecaps scattered. The barge continued relentlessly, towed onward by the chains. As Libby screamed Dax’s name, Rhetahn leaned over the gunwale, searching the ripples. Icy fear coursed through his veins. If the lad didn’t surface soon, he’d be lost. There was no stopping this damn boat. Several bluecaps fluttered back in concern. He stumbled to where they hovered as the young man broke the surface with a desperate gasp, floundering in his heavy clothes.
Clutching the ground shifter’s shirt, he held on with all his might when the force of the craft’s motion dragged him under the hull. To his horror, Dax’s spellbound state returned in full force as he spotted the bluecaps. He fought Rhetahn’s hold, reaching for the sprites.
“Go away!” Rhetahn yelled at them. “I know you want to help but leave us be!”
At the bluecaps’ hesitation, the ground shifter increased his resistance, flailing toward them with anguished shrieks. A sharp pain seared Rhetahn’s chest, and he hissed. He was too weakened for this. He couldn’t hold on much longer.
Suddenly, a brown shape broke the surface and lunged at the sprites, its teeth chomping shut with a snap. Squealing, the bluecaps fled from the huge otter as it glided around the ground shifter. Oblivious to the animal, Dax made a desolate sound at the sprites’ retreat, which became a choking gurgle when he went under again. Libby leaned over and seized his other side and together, they hauled him on to the deck.
His entire body aching, Rhetahn bent double, blinking away the white lights behind his eyes. The ground shifter struggled to his feet, searching the river with a dazed expression. When he spotted the bluecaps on the wall, he took a step toward them.
“Don’t you dare!” Libby clutched his arm.
The young man snarled and backhanded her, sending her crashing to the deck.
White-hot fury ricocheted through Rhetahn and he smashed his fist into Dax’s face without a second thought.
Chapter Twenty-Two
The ground shifter crumpled like parchment to the deck. Rhetahn loomed over him, red mist blurring his vision as he grasped the young man’s collar and pulled his fist back, ready to strike again.
“Could you help me up?” Libby croaked.
He turned to her instantly, dumping the lifeless Dax. Assisting her to her feet, he ran his index finger across the bright red mark on her cheek. “You’re hurt.”
She copied his movements with her own finger and winced, then attempted a smile.
“My first battle injury,” she quipped. “How does it look?”
Despite her glib words, her bottom lip wobbled, and he spotted the sheen of tears in her eyes. It took every bit of his control not to toss the hapless ground shifter overboard.
“It looks like you’re going to have a large bruise.” He couldn’t hide his growl. “I’ll get the dwarf ointment. It worked wonders on my wound.”
“What about Dax?”
He threw the young man a contemptuous glance. “He can bloody well wait.”
“He’s soaked to the skin. He might catch his death.”
“He’s a ground shifter, Libby. They’re tough bastards.”
“Do you want to take the chance?” She put her hands on her hips. “We need him as a guide, remember?”
After removing Dax’s shirt and boots and covering him with a blanket at the girl’s insistence, he dabbed the gel on her cheek.
She tilted her head to aid him, her hands curled around the flask of dwarven ale he’d found in the supplies.
A tiny part of him shook his head in disbelief, wondering what his brothers would say if they witnessed him coddling the sacrifice, yet he couldn’t stop himself. He also couldn’t resist trailing his fingertips across her silky skin. Her shiver filled him with gratification, but blue lights close by made him tense.
“Keep your eyes on me,” he said. “The bluecaps are trailing us.”
She maintained eye contact dutifully.
He studied her bright hazel orbs, marveling at their beauty, then noticed he was caressing her cheek with more possessiveness than was prudent. Her skin flushed under his touch as desire rose between them. He cursed under his breath. He couldn’t let this happen again.
“I need to send them away,” he said. “Study the deck. Isn’t it fascinating?”
She snorted as she obeyed.
He removed his hand with reluctance and rose, just as the otter broke the surface again. It snapped its blunt muzzle at the sprites, and they fled, squealing, to the opposite bank. As they escaped into the rock crevices, the animal submerged and disappeared into the depths.
“You can look now, Lissabet. The otter chased them off.”
“Thank goodness. Why did they affect Dax in such a way?”
She sipped the beer and he smiled at her grimace. Dwarven brew was renowned for its potency. Accepting the flask from her, he quaffed a mouthful, exhaling as the peaty liquid sent soothing warmth through his body.
“Bluecaps are unfortunate beings.” He glanced at the insentient ground shifter on the deck. “They wish people no harm but have a dangerous feature. They emit a hypnotic luminescence, rendering those around them spellbound. Hence why they live down here. They’d amass an army of stupefied zombies if they didn’t.”
“Dwarves must come across them, though?”
“They’re impervious to them. I do wonder if the two races are related. The sprites have been known to warn mine workers of dangers. Evidently, they also use the rivers as drinking sources.”
“Did you spot the otter?” she said in wonder. “I’ve never seen one so big.”
“We’re lucky it fancied bluecaps for supper. Their misguided attempts to help made Dax fight my grip more.”
“How come you weren’t affected?”
“Individuals with magic have varying levels of resistance.” He took another swig of ale. “My brothers and I are immune to them. Demons, too. I’m not sure about human sorcerers. Your power appears to afford you some protection.”
She grunted. “Your clip ’round the head helped, too. How do you know of them? I assume dragon shifters don’t spend much time below ground?”
Memories of an ancient battle filled his mind. A desperate plan; a terrifying crawl through infinitesimal shafts closing in around him; fluttering blue lights fading into the distance; the bone-chilling fear of abandonment in the darkness. To his faint surprise, he found himself wanting to talk to the girl, to confide in her of ancient events that were mere legends to most.
“The battle against Kalid’har,” he said, “was won by cunning, not strength. The demons held a castle called Scastrun in the east Shifterlands, a fortress dragons built for them, under their whips and chains. It was impervious to attack from the air or ground. The demons even set magic traps in the cellars to deter underground raids. However, they didn’t set them deep enough.
“After the creation of our amulets, my brothers and I hatched a plan. Starting miles away from Scastrun, the three of us crawled deep below the surface of the realm, farther than I ever imagined or wanted to go. The bluecaps agreed to lead us. If it hadn’t been for their guidance, we would have been lost for eternity. Eventually, we came up below the fortress cellars.”
“Then what did you do?”
He bared his teeth. “We used our magic to explode the fortress from below, blowing it to pieces and enabling our armies to attack in the confusion.”
“You could have been killed!” She hesitated. “Couldn’t you? I know you’re immortal, but Storren—”
“An eternal lifespan simply means we don’t die of old age. However, that lifespan can be cut short the same way as any other, as my brother’s death has proven.” He spoke quickly, his heart twisting at the mention of Storren. “We’re harder to kill than mortals, certainly, but
immortality doesn’t make us indestructible. We were badly injured when we blew up Scastrun, but we were at our full strength, which meant we healed quickly. That night, we destroyed the reign of demons. Once the word went out across the Shifterlands that their leader was gone, the rest fell beneath our blades or turned tail and ran away.”
“Did Kalid’har die in the explosion?”
“No, he was too powerful. We fought him. It took all three of us to bring him down. Mhaljett struck the killing blow.”
“What was he like?” Her tone was hushed, as if she expected the demon overlord to burst through the walls.
“Kalid’har?” He shook his head. “He was a monster, one so cruel and so callous, he seemed born of a different realm. He deemed other races inferior to his people, chattels to be enslaved and abused. Murder was entertainment to him, and he could call upon dark magic like it flowed through his veins. Until the ice dragons and sorcerers created the amulets to amplify our power, we didn’t stand a chance of defeating him. Even when he fell under Mhaljett’s blade, he laughed. He laughed as he died, like he was the victor. I’ll never forget it.”
A recollection hit him, a memory of Mhaljett’s incongruous chuckle when he reattached his amulet during the ritual, his alien look of triumph as he stared across the valley. He frowned, but Libby’s hesitant voice broke his concentration.
“May I ask you a question?”
“Why not?” He gave her a droll smile. “You’ve spent the entire journey doing so.”
“In the sentry outpost, Jahda reported Mhaljett cloaked a courtesan. What did she mean?”
His smile faded.
“You don’t have to tell me.” She apparently interpreted his silence as censoriousness. “It’s none of my business.”
He sighed. “It’s an act of domination between two individuals, resulting in a bond resembling master and serf. It was commonplace before my birth, when my people were wilder and less civilized than we are now. We banned it a long time ago.”
“I don’t understand. How does it work?”
“The more powerful shifter releases a compelling scent or redolence, binding the weaker one to their will. The subsequent bond is deep, spiritual. The dominant shifter needs the weaker one as much as the other way around. Some pairs even establish a kind of telepathy. In a way, there’s no closer type of bond.”
“It’s still a forced act.” The disapproval was clear in her tone.
“Some believe it only happens when there’s already a hidden, unconscious bond between two individuals.” He shrugged. “Others claim that’s nonsense. It’s one individual overpowering the other, nothing more. Either way it’s irrevocable, everlasting until death. One reason we banned it. Another being the fact that it often leads to sex.”
She puckered her brow. “I assume non-consensual.”
“For both, in a way. Although I’ve never experienced it myself, I’ve been told the bonding process is so overwhelming, so devastating, our inner dragon takes control. The dominant individual compels the weaker one to shift and they have sex in animal form, which isn’t a good thing.”
“Why not?”
“Male dragons are larger and stronger than females.” He downed the ale, the frothy liquid burning its way down his throat. “Mating as dragons is forbidden, because it’s nigh on impossible for a male not to harm a partner during sex. Can you imagine how ferocious a cloaked coupling would be? Even if a powerful female dominated a weaker male, the male could harm or even kill her while mating.”
“Hence why you asked if the courtesan survived.” She sounded subdued.
“My brothers and I are the biggest, most powerful dragons in the realm. A little courtesan stood no chance if Mhaljett was as enraged in dragon form as earlier. We must hope the bond’s potency behooved him to take care.”
“If she did survive...” she prompted.
He rubbed his temples. “They would be bonded for eternity, I suppose, the courtesan would acquire Mhaljett’s immortality. He broke one of our strictest laws, but he wasn’t of sound mind. Look what he did to Storren—”
His voice broke as grief engulfed him again, Storren’s smiling face and easy laughter filling his mind. His throat felt tight, like something was stuck in it. His youngest brother was the most cheerful of the siblings, the one to bring them back to the light when Mhaljett’s cool reserve and Rhetahn’s jaded formality became too intense. Who would be his light now? Who would tease him and make him laugh, both at himself and with others? How would he learn to live without him? The lump in his throat grew larger and he clenched his fists.
The girl touched his arm. “Will you permit me to give you a hug?”
“A hug?”
Scooting across the bench, she wrapped her arms around him and rested her head on his shoulder.
He stiffened. The embrace wasn’t sexual. No invitation touched her strawberry scent or her body language, nothing bar the offer of comfort. Bit by bit, he relaxed into her, absorbing the empathy and compassion emanating from her core. He exhaled in a shaky sigh.
“I can’t believe he’s gone,” he whispered. “It was like a nightmare, watching that dagger plunge into him.”
“I know.” Her voice was muffled by his shirt. “I saw it happen too. I’m sorry, Rhetahn.”
She drew back, tears glistening in her eyes. Impulsively, he leaned in and touched her lips with his own.
After a moment of hesitation, she returned the kiss, assenting to his unspoken request for distraction. Shifting closer, she placed her small hands on his shoulders.
Heat rippled through his body in response. He forgot his determination to stay away from her, his resolve to keep her at a polite arm’s length. He liked her shy touch, the sweetness of her kiss, the underlying curiosity in her movements. The temptation to lead her on to greater things wasn’t as strong as the need for her soothing comfort.
The embrace was gentler than anything he’d experienced in years, and he loved every second.
Chapter Twenty-Three
Dax groaned, causing Libby to withdraw from Rhetahn’s arms. With effort, he resisted the compulsion to hold on.
“Turel,” the young man mumbled. “Turel, I need you...”
Rhetahn frowned. “Who is he talking about?”
“His wife, perhaps,” Libby whispered, the sympathy obvious in her tone.
“Hmm. Stay back until we’re sure he’s himself again.” Rhetahn headed to the ground shifter. “Dax? How are you feeling?”
The ground shifter rose to a sitting position, the blanket falling away from his muscular upper body. A purple bruise encircled the socket of his right eye.
“What happened?” His voice was raspy.
“You were entranced by bluecaps,” Libby said, from the helm. “You jumped in the river to reach them. Lord Rhetahn saved your life, then he punched you.”
“I jumped in? Are you joking?” He patted his damp pants and winced. “Gods, my head hurts. All I remember is spotting some odd blue lights and calling you to have a look.” Locking his gaze on Libby’s swollen cheek, he frowned. “What happened to you?”
The girl hedged, glancing at Rhetahn.
“You hit her.” He saw no point in hiding the truth to save the shifter’s feelings. “After she attempted to stop you diving in again.”
The young man gaped. “Libby, I’m sorry—”
“It’s fine.” She waved her hand and gave him a smile. “You weren’t yourself. Rhetahn, let’s find the ointment.”
Over the next few minutes, he carried out tasks under Libby’s direction, giving the dwarf medicine to Dax and rummaging in his rucksack for spare clothes. He also found some sponge moss wrapped in parchment, which the shifter shoved into his boots to soak up the water. After donning the dry clothes, the young man attempted to stand. Staggering sideways, he collapsed against Rhetahn and hung his head.
“I failed you, Lord. Captain Brand tasked me with your protection—”
“Dax, stop talking rubbish and
come rest.” Libby stood near his makeshift bed with her hands on her hips. “I’m not sure when we’ll reach the landing point. You should sleep while you can.”
“She speaks sense.” Rhetahn helped the young man across the deck. “I will have no more talk of failing me, understand? There are few in the realm who can resist bluecaps. It wasn’t your fault.”
Despite the ground shifter’s reluctance, he fell asleep straight away. Rhetahn returned to the helm benches with Libby, frowning. The girl was right. Their journey on the Yarkhelecht was due to end soon. They needed Dax to recover with haste.
“He might be concussed.”
The girl’s musing drew his attention. The swelling on her cheek had reduced, yet he tensed at the sight of it. “You could be right. We’ll let him sleep until we go ashore.”
She pursed her lips. “Why did you hit him so hard?”
“He hurt you,” Rhetahn growled.
At her wide-eyed stare, he kicked himself and continued. “I need you hale and whole when I reattempt the ritual.”
Her expression flickered and she turned away, biting her lip. An unfamiliar emotion flickered to life and when he identified it, he froze.
Guilt.
He cursed again. This was why he and his brothers were not supposed to know the name of the sacrifices. Why their exposure to them was limited to the blessing beforehand. He knew this girl now. She had pluck, stubbornness, and honesty. Her open, kind-hearted nature was foreign to him. His people, at least those in his circle, were proud and reserved, seldom revealing their emotions. She was inquisitive and smart, a fascinating combination of bold astuteness and sweet naivety. As for her lips and curves...
He shifted on the helm. The idea of restraining her again and stabbing her to death was disquieting. Troubling. What choice did he have? Demons were attacking his people, his home. Storren was dead, Mhaljett incapacitated. He himself was weak, his power in desperate need of renewal. He hadn’t dared use magic since the sentry outpost, needing to conserve his limited resources.
If the dragon shifters fell, the demons would swarm across the realm like locusts, destroying everything in their path. All would die under their blades or cower beneath their whips, like in days of old. Jothesia’s fate hinged on the return of his strength and the cost was Lissabet’s life.
Sacrifice Page 14
