“I could not have told you. I was . . . relieved when you left.” She laid her head on his shoulder. “I pushed any feelings for you out of my mind so that I could concentrate on my studies. For a while I thought I had succeeded, but I was fooling myself. Your father could tell. Locksher could tell. Even Mage Vannya could tell.”
Justan didn’t know what to say. All those nights where he had lain awake thinking of her and she had been thinking of him as well. Suddenly waiting for her father’s blessing didn’t seem so bad after all. The thought prompted him to say something he’d been avoiding.
“You know, I think it might be a bad idea for us to keep hiding away like this,” Justan said.
She lifted her head from his shoulder and looked at him. “Why do you say this?”
“Sir Hilt gave us permission to court. We have no need to hide our feelings for each other. Your father will hear sooner or later.”
“I would not be able to do as we are doing now if people could see us,” she said.
“You kissed me in the middle of the battlefield,” he reminded.
“That was different,” she replied.
“But people have already noticed we are together. We’re hiding away to be alone, but what do you think the guards think we’re doing in here?” Justan asked. Jhonate’s face colored and he knew he had just ruined future possibilities of alone time between them.
“If-if they even suggested such a thing, I . . .” Her eyes grew cold. “I would not allow such talk.”
“I know. You would strike them and the rumors would increase,” Justan said. “They all expect it has happened by now.”
“We have been betrothed for less than a week,” Jhonate said, aghast.
“Among my people, two people in love aren’t so chaste as with your people. Especially during war,” he said.
“War is no excuse.” Jhonate stood and held out her hand. “Come, we cannot stay in here.”
He took her hand and stood. “Then let’s stop hiding altogether.”
“Very well,” She laid a hand on the doorknob, then turned and kissed him so hard he wondered if his lips would bleed. She pulled back. “Thank you for telling me, Justan.”
They stepped out of the guard shack and climbed the narrow stair beside it that lead to the top of the wall. The path along the top was wide enough that five people could walk side by side without brushing the waist-high walls. A few academy students paced by and nodded respectfully as Justan and Jhonate walked to the outer edge.
The moon was full and the air cool. Justan looked out over the expanse of cleared land and the forest beyond. It all looked so peaceful.
“You asked about my father,” Jhonate said. She rested against the edge and looked at him. He could see the green of her eyes even in the moonlight. “But I suppose you should really know about me.
“I am Jhonate bin Leeths of the Roo-Tan. My family was with those that were brought to the Jharro grove by the prophet after our homeland was destroyed by the Troll Queen. My ancestors signed the contract with Yntri Yni and the Elf Council that made us owners of the land surrounding and protectors of the grove itself. My family has ruled over the Roo-tan for over fifty years, my father for the last thirty.”
“So you are like a princess,” Justan said.
“I am no princess,” she snorted. “My father has seven wives and twenty five children. In our people, the leader is not chosen by lineage, but by vote of the people. I am one of the least of my siblings and I have no desire to rule.”
“You have seven mothers and twenty four siblings?” Justan said in surprise. He couldn’t imagine the dynamics of a life like that.
“My mother is Jhandra bin Tayl, my father’s sixth wife. She is a witch and very unpopular among my father’s other wives. I have many brothers and sisters that are stronger and more well respected than me.”
Jhonate was giving Justan so much information that he was having difficulty deciding what to focus on. Her mother was a witch? “Then why is your father so particular about what you do?”
“My father is very fond of my mother and he . . . dotes on me. He has called me his favorite many times in the past. Sometimes in front of the others.”
“He is a warrior?”
“Xedrion bin Leeths is as powerful a warrior as any in the Battle Academy. He spars with Sir Hilt regularly and often beats him,” Jhonate said.
“What will I need to do for him to allow our marriage?” Justan asked.
“It will not be easy,” she said. “Your naming will help. Your Jharro bow will help. I will do what I can as well. But it may come down to battle.”
Justan laughed.
“I do not see the humor in this,” she said.
“Everything comes down to battle,” Justan said, looking out at the calm night. “I’ll do whatever is necessary, Jhonate. I promise you.”
“As will I,” she said, linking her arm in his.
“I wish we could go now,” Justan said. “But who knows how long this siege will last.”
“I do not like being trapped,” Jhonate agreed. “And with no one to battle.”
“I wouldn’t say that,” said a gruff voice behind them.
They whirled to face the voice, Justan with a hand on the hilt of his sword, Jhonate with her staff at the ready. Sir Lance stood there, his arms folded. His white hair was pulled back and his grizzled face grinned at them. Neither one of them had heard him approach even though he was wearing scale armor.
“You ain’t the only ones achin’ for a fight,” Lance said.
“Were you listening to us?” Jhonate asked with a glare.
“I only heard that last part,” the named warrior replied. “Thought you two might be interested in some action.”
“What kind of action?” Justan asked.
“The kind of action that gets us closer to gettin’ out of here. See, I’m planning a sortie,” the old warrior’s smile was wolf-like in the moonlight. “Care to join me?”
Chapter Thirteen
Beth watched the orc camp from the darkness just beyond the treeline. She maintained her web of bewitching magic at a low and steady hum, just strong enough to nullify Mellinda’s eyes in the area, but not strong enough to alert the witch of their presence. It was a delicate task, but Beth had done it so often over the last month that it had become second nature to her. The difficult part was what came next.
She closed her eyes and sent feelers of bonding magic out through the camp, identifying every living creature in the area. She could not read the detailed thoughts of creatures at this distance, but she could tell their temperaments and moods. There were eight orcs in the camp. Two were sleeping on straw mats, while four of them sat around a campfire, alternating between arguing and laughing loudly. She had hoped that more of them would be sleeping at this time of night.
The final two orcs were on watch. They were relatively efficient at it, showing that they were veterans at least. Hilt had told her of orc watch techniques. The two orcs were stationed at opposite ends of the camp. They paced clockwise around the perimeter of the camp at a measured pace and watched the woods beyond, keeping the fire to their backs so that their night vision wouldn’t be compromised.
Hilt was right about another thing. These orcs were very alert, their swords in hand as they paced. This likely meant that Mellinda was keeping them on their toes. The witch knew there were enemies somewhere in the area.
Beth reached further with her magic, beyond the edges of the camp and felt the position of her companions. Hilt was hiding behind a bush just a short dash from the sleeping orcs, while Charz, wearing his stealthy boots, was crouched behind a large tree just outside the reach of the revealing firelight. Deathclaw was in a tree whose branches arched over the camp and one of the guards was pacing towards his position.
Beth took a deep breath and opened her eyes. The moment she did so, her awareness of the others faded. She couldn’t maintain all her powers and use her other senses at the same time, something
she was working hard at improving. She drew an arrow from her quiver and tightened her hold on the viper skin grip as she pulled it back to her ear. She sighted the orc guard pacing closest to her.
Ready, Viper? she asked the bow. The spirit inside the bow hissed with anticipation. Viper loved to strike.
Ready, Deathclaw? The other orc guard was nearly under his tree.
His reply was quiet, the way it usually was when he wasn’t holding the Jharro whistle in his hand. Ready.
I will wait for your attack, she replied.
She felt the raptoid tense up as the orc walked under his tree. Deathclaw dropped from the branch high above, his tail pointing straight downward, stiffened like a spear. His tail barb popped through the top of the orc’s skull, killing it before the rest of his body landed on top of it, slamming it to the ground.
Beth fired on the other orc guard. A portion of the viper’s spirit rode the arrow with eagerness, extending itself outward like fangs on the tip of the arrowhead. The arrow pierced the guard’s throat and the viper struck its nervous system. The orc stiffened and fell, unable even to gurgle before it died.
Good, Viper, Beth said as the viper’s spirit returned to the bow. She drew another arrow even though she already knew she wouldn’t need it.
As the two guards dropped, Hilt darted from concealment, his dual swords drawn. He ran past the sleeping orcs and swiped both swords behind him. Thin blades of air flew from the swords tips and slashed through the orcs and into the ground beyond, neatly lopping off their heads.
Charz, who had a more difficult time seeing the precise moment to move, chose that moment to run from his concealment. By the time he arrived at the fire, Deathclaw had already torn one of the orcs’ throats out and Hilt had run two of the others through.
The last orc barely had time enough to scream before Charz grabbed it by the head. The rock giant lifted the orc high over his head, then grabbed its legs with his other hand and slammed it down over his knee, breaking legs, back, ribs, and neck simultaneously.
He grunted in disgust and smashed it to the ground. “Don’t even know why I’m here sometimes. You guys kill ‘em all before I get there.”
Hilt let the two orcs slide off the ends of his swords. “You got one this time, Charz. Besides, if things had gone wrong, you would have had plenty to do.”
The giant snorted. “Right. We all know that the two of you could’ve handled a group twice this size all by yourselves.”
“True,” Deathclaw said in agreement, his arms folded, standing with one foot resting on the corpse of the last orc he’d killed.
“And we know you could’ve handled them all by yourself,” Beth said, joining them from her concealment. “But this group was the size it was. Like I told you before, you’ll have the chance to fight all you want. I have foreseen it. Before our task is done, we’ll see more than enough battle. You’ll be lucky to escape alive.”
“So you’ve promised,” the giant grumped. He kicked the smashed orc into the fire.
“Good thinking, Charz,” Hilt said with a grin. “Let’s drag the others to the fire too, but lets just shove their heads in; leave their bodies hanging out. That should give the others something to wonder about when they find them.”
Part of their mission was to disrupt the enemy forces as much as possible. That had been the easy part so far. The four of them had hit two supply wagons and four orc camps similar to this one already. Unfortunately, their major mission hadn’t been as successful. Their scouting efforts had met with little success. They had yet to find a major encampment.
Evidently Hilt had been thinking along the same lines. “I think we need to travel further east into the foothills,” he said, dragging one orc to the fire. He stomped its head into the coals. “We’ve seen about all there is to see in this area. All the orcs we’ve found seem to be heading in that direction anyway.”
“I agree,” Deathclaw said. The raptoid had been quiet since joining them. He did what they asked him to do, keeping watch and reporting anything Sir Edge needed them to know, but he mostly kept to himself.
“Whatever,” Charz grumped. The giant stomped over and picked up the bodies of the two orcs that had been sleeping, then kicked their heads in the direction of the fire.
Beth knew she was going to have to speak with both Deathclaw and Charz sooner or later, but she had been putting it off. Keeping up her field of magic was a constant drain and whatever their issues were, she knew it was going to take a lot of emotional effort to resolve them.
Beth smiled as she watched her husband retrieve the body of the orc guard she’d killed. She loved him more every day. To think it had only been two years since they’d met. It seemed like she had known him forever. But perhaps that was because she had seen so much of his future.
Hilt was the stabilizing force in their group. He took charge when needed and joked around to keep Charz from getting too despondent, while giving Deathclaw space when he needed it. He was a natural leader, doing all of this instinctually, something she would have never been able to do without her spirit magic to guide her.
While the men worked, she spread her web of bewitching out farther, just so she would know if the smoke or the nasty smell that accompanied it drew any other enemies towards their position. That done, she walked to the pile of supplies the orcs had brought with them. Her spirit sight picked out the silvery glow of the orcs’ moonrat eye right away. It was nestled in one of the packs, likely the leader’s. She moved aside some filthy clothing and pulled it out. It was a green one and fairly fresh, only partially shriveled.
It was strange. Each eye they found seemed to be fresher than the one before. Beth considered the idea that Mellinda was running low on moonrats, but that didn’t necessarily strike true. Her power seemed as strong as ever. Another thought came to her.
She walked to the fire. “I had a thought,” she said as she tossed the eye in.
“Oh?” Hilt said with a teasing smile.
She gave him a playful glower. “The eyes we find are getting newer and newer. The Mage School’s source mentioned a moonrat breeding ground. What if it’s somewhere nearby?”
“Hmm,” Hilt said. “Then perhaps east is the wrong way for us to go. These orcs have been heading east. But if these eyes are new, they’ve been getting them to the west. The moonrat breeding grounds could be that way.”
“That could be true,” she agreed. “And it would make sense, since that would take us deeper into the forest.” She looked to Deathclaw and Charz. “What do you two think?”
“Ask Edge,” Deathclaw offered.
“Yeah, and I could talk to Alfred later, see what he thinks,” Charz said.
“Then let’s head back to camp,” Hilt said.
They rummaged through the orcs supplies, taking anything useable and tossing whatever they didn’t want into the fire, then headed into the forest. Deathclaw darted ahead of them, but Charz stayed with Beth. Hilt followed at a slower pace behind them, making sure they didn’t leave a useable trail for their eventual pursuers to follow.
“How are you and Alfred doing?” Beth asked the giant as they walked.
“You always say that like we were married,” Charz said with a shake of his head.
“You are bonded,” she replied. “It isn’t that different.”
“Oh isn’t it?” Charz chuckled. “I ain’t seen him in eighty years and even before that we weren’t snuggling at night.”
“You know what I mean,” she said. Alfred had kept the giant chained to a cave until just a few short months ago. But he had let Charz loose, which meant something.
“We exchange information. That’s it. He still doesn’t like me much.”
“What happened the last time you saw him?” she asked.
“It was twenty years after they left me at that cave.” The giant frowned uncomfortably. “He came to tell me how Master Oslo died.”
“Oslo?”
“He was the wizard that first bonded me. The bond
was shifted to Alfred when he died,” Charz explained. He looked pained as he spoke. “Alfred blames me for what happened to Oslo. He’s right, too. It was my fault.”
“Would you mind telling me how that happened?” she asked.
“I . . . don’t like sayin’ that kind of thing aloud,” he said.
“Then carry me,” she said. “I can listen as we walk.” Charz picked her up in his arms and Beth settled her head on his granite chest. It wasn’t a comfortable spot. “Try not to jostle me if you can avoid it.”
“Why are you so curious, anyway?” Charz asked. “You don’t even like me that much.”
She smacked his chest with her hand hoping it was hard enough that he could feel it. She knew she bruised her palm. “That’s not true.” Not exactly anyway. It just ticks me off that it took you so long to figure out what an evil bastard you were.
“I knew,” he said, then added mentally, I always knew. I just ignored it because fighting was so much fun. You sure you want to know me better?
Yes, she replied. I think I need to.
The giant sighed and, with reluctance, pushed the memories through to her. The truth wasn’t what she’d expected. By the time they arrived at their camp, her tears were streaming down his chest.
“I’m sorry,” he said as he gently set her on her feet.
“No, Charz,” she said, patting his arm. “I’m the one who should be sorry. I didn’t know.”
He raised a rocky eyebrow. “That helped? You sure you don’t want to order me to leave?”
She patted his chest. “Shut up and get the fire going.”
They moved their camp every few days to make sure they didn’t get too predictable and so far it had worked. Their current camp was under an overhanging rock next to a small stream. Hilt had a powder that made a fire smokeless when sprinkled over the wood, so all they had to worry about was the light. Beth’s magic told them if anyone was coming close.
Deathclaw had arrived quite a while before them. The raptoid had been busy. There were three squirrels and a raccoon lying next to the fire pit, already gutted and stripped of fur.
The Bowl of Souls: Book 05 - Mother of the Moonrat Page 18
