Sighing heavily, she let her hair fall back to her shoulder once more and leaned back farther to stare up at the twilight sky that was visible through the limbs of the massive oak. Not much chance of her coat or gloves drying quickly with the sun already setting. The logical thing to do would be to take them back into camp and set them beside one of the camp fires.
That would be associating with others, though, and she had the practice of being anti-social down to a fine art. From what she had seen in other people in her time with Dominic, blisters were less painful than trying to explain to strangers why she was like she was. It was hard to explain something you didn’t understand, and no one ever believed her when she simply said I don’t know. Closing her eyes, she allowed herself to rest for the time being. It had been a long ride, and as much as she didn’t want to admit it, she was tired. Once the camp had quieted and most were sleeping, she would return to help Dominic. She knew without a doubt he would work all night, and for now he had the other girls to fetch and carry for him.
* * *
“There was a young man looking for you earlier,” Dominic informed her quietly as she pushed her way into the tent.
“Did you tell him who I was?” Zoelyn asked softly as she studied the occupants of the tent. There were perhaps twenty wounded stretched out on pallets near the walls, and aside from a large blond man in leather armor sitting silently by one of the pallets with his eyes closed everyone was sleeping.
Dominic shook his head, never looking up from the wound he was carefully stitching. “I didn’t even glance up at him when he was asking around. Too busy healing to bother,” he explained, though a small smile creased his face. “Shouldn’t be surprised, though, a pretty girl like you should have young men asking after them,” he teased gently.
Zoelyn smiled at his effort to make her feel better and handed him another bandage before he could open his mouth to ask. He accepted it with a wider smile and gave her a wink. “I’d prefer it if young men didn’t know I existed,” she whispered back, her gaze flicking to the blond man once more, and wondered if he was asleep after all. She had never seen anyone sleep while sitting up, but he wasn’t moving.
“Wasting your time and energy,” a voice called from somewhere beyond the tent. “They are all going to die anyway!” the voice continued. Dominic sighed heavily and glanced in that direction before shaking his head in disgust. “I wish someone would silence him,” he mumbled.
“You may have won the battle, but we have won the war!” The voice broke the silence again, this time nearly yelling.
“They have the prisoners this close to the wounded?” Zoelyn asked in disbelief.
“They are keeping them in the center of camp actually. It’s just the tents for the wounded are ringing the center of camp so we are basically right next to them,” Dominic explained wearily. “I have been listening to that man for most of the day. Every time the guards silence him he starts again with the next shift of watch. I have almost got the changing of guards worked out in my mind just from when he rants,” Dominic explained.
“We killed the bitch! None of you have a prayer of standing together now! You have lost!” The voice called once more and the blond man rose instantly with the words.
Zoelyn watched him pace silently to the tent flap and looked back at Dominic in shock. “I thought he was sleeping,” she admitted quietly, and stepped back as Dominic rose quickly as well to follow the man. Confused but curious, she followed along and emerged from the tent in time to see the blond haired stranger grab one of the prisoners by the throat and slam him against the pole that held them all chained in place. Drawing back his other hand swiftly he punched the prisoner in the face, smashing the smaller man’s head back against the pole from the force of his blow. “Lord Delvayon, please,” one of the guards hissed as he tried to pull the bigger man off the prisoner.
“I have listened to this asshole most of the day and ignored him, right up to the point when he bragged about her dying,” the Lord snarled in return as he shrugged the guard off.
“Lord Delvayon, considering your actions in the battle, you are lucky that we are tolerating your presence here. Please do not press your luck with abuse of the prisoners. We are counting on them being alive to draw a truce with Rivana,” The newest voice cut through the air with the bite of command and Zoelyn drew farther back into the shadows as the tall, dark haired man entered the firelight of the torches surrounding the prisoners.
“Don’t you dare treat him like that for what he did!” Another man snarled, and Zoelyn looked over quickly to see a silver haired man rising from the ground just beyond the edge of camp. He moved swiftly toward the dark haired man, his hand dropping to the hilt of his sword as he walked. “If not for Neph, there would be a hell of a lot more names on that pillar!” the silver haired man said in a voice that was rising in fury as he pointed behind him to a large stone statue of a woman that Zoelyn hadn’t even noticed in the growing excitement.
“What is that?” Zoelyn whispered to Dominic who was standing rigid beside her.
“A monument for the High Lady Jala Merrodin. She died in the battle. The names of all who died here on her behalf are carved on the pillar beneath her,” Dominic explained quickly, his eyes still locked on the three men as if he expected violence to erupt at any moment.
“Get your hand off your sword, Val,” Lord Delvayon muttered sourly and started to loosen his grip on the prisoner.
The Rivasan laughed hoarsely and spat blood onto the ground by the Lord’s boots and grinned at them all through split lips. “See that, Delvay, you aren’t allowed to touch me and I get to watch it all fall apart. The bitch hasn’t even been dead a full day and already you are at each other’s throats. Your pathetic alliance won’t last two weeks.”
Without any warning the Lord’s hand tightened once more on the prisoner’s throat and his fist slammed into the man’s face until the prisoner was limp in his grasp.
The dark haired man started to move forward to stop him, but the one the lord had called Val stepped to block his way. Zoelyn looked quickly between the three and then to the guards who stood back with looks of near panic on their faces. A wail of pain rose from the prisoner as the large Delvay pried his battered jaws open and shoved his hand into the man’s mouth. There was a gargling noise and then the lord pulled his hand back swiftly. At first Zoelyn thought the prisoner had managed to bite the Delvay, until she saw the lump of pink flesh the lord was grasping in his hand. Blood streamed down from the prisoner’s mouth as weak gargling rose from his throat. The Delvay had ripped the man’s tongue completely out of his mouth. Bile rose in her throat and she turned away quickly as Dominic moved forward.
“Lord Delvayon, I have more than enough work to do without you creating more. Release that man at once,” Dominic commanded in a voice that actually sounded as if he had authority.
Blinking stupidly, Zoelyn gaped at her Guardian in utter shock. The Delvay lord had just ripped a man’s tongue fully out of his mouth and Dominic was actually being stupid enough to get in the middle of it.
The Delvay lord regarded him stonily for a few moments, then tossed the tongue to the ground and grabbed the prisoner once more, one large hand on each side of the man’s head. With a quick jerk, he snapped the man’s neck and released the body to fall limply to the ground. “No extra work now,” the Delvay announced coldly.
“That was murder!” Dominic bellowed, taking another step closer, his hand raised in accusation.
“That was justified!” Lord Delvayon shot back with equal venom. “Who in the bloody hell are you, anyway?” he demanded.
“He is my personal healer,” a softer voice answered and Zoelyn felt relief wash through her body as she recognized the sound of Troyelle Hai’dia’s voice. She hadn’t seen the General of Arovan often, but every time she had been in his presence he had been calm and rational. The current situation could certainly use someone calm and rational. “Valor, get your hand off of your sword. Lord Fayd
wer, I have this matter from here. I thank you for your attempts at stemming the violence.” Looking around at the growing crowd, Troyelle motioned to his guards that were stationed around the prisoners. “Clear the area and see that everyone returns to their rest,” he ordered softly, his gaze returning once more to the Delvay lord and the dead prisoner. “I will grant you, Neph, that man was an annoying bastard, but don’t you think that was a bit excessive?”
“I think the bastard should have shut his mouth the first time he was told to,” Neph countered.
Troyelle frowned and looked from Neph back to Valor. “I told you to get your hand off of your sword,” he sighed.
“Tell me you are letting Neph return to his rest without further harassment and I’ll be more than happy to, father,” Valor replied in a voice that was shaky at best.
“Val, I don’t need you to fight my battles for me,” Neph snapped.
“Excuse me.” A gentle nudge at her back spun Zoelyn around quickly to face the newest speaker. She wasn’t used to being caught off guard or being touched and the man had managed both. He smiled faintly at her and limped past to stand near Dominic. Zoelyn recognized him as one of the wounded that had been resting in the tent behind her, and from the looks of his bandaged side and limp he hadn’t been magically healed yet. She knew she should try to urge him back to his pallet, but she truly didn’t want to go anywhere near the drama unfolding in front of her.
“Madren get your scrawny ass back in that tent,” Neph snarled as the man approached, but the wounded man simply shook his head.
“Valor, I was thinking about it all and I don’t think Jala can hear us here. This is Arovan, not Merrodin. I think you will have to be in Merrodin before she can answer you,” Madren began slowly his voice as kind as the expression on his face.
Valor faltered slightly at the abrupt change of topic and his hand slipped from his sword hilt as he stared at the newcomer with an almost fanatic expression.
“Please don’t encourage my son’s delusions,” Troyelle began in a voice that held more grief than Zoelyn had ever heard before. “I’ve lost two children to the war. Please don’t hasten the loss of my last to madness,” he added in a softer voice, with a look of pleading toward Madren.
“General Troyelle, I sympathize with your loss. I truly do, but Valor is not mad. Valor is grieving and heartsick as are we all. The best place for him to heal is Merrodin. The best place for me to heal is Goswin and I will be taking Lord Neph and his people with me.” Madren glanced toward the towering Delvay lord and then back to Troyelle. “I heard everything the Rivasan said and it made me want to kill him too. Then I heard what was going on out here and realized the bastard was right. Emotions are too high right now and everyone is ready to lash out. If we don’t break this camp up, our alliance is damned, and as weak as we are individually right now, we will lose another fight against them. The only way to stand together later is to stand alone for now.”
“Well said for a scrawny little bitch,” Neph agreed with a nod and looked to Troyelle with a raised eyebrow. “That is, unless you wish to continue our conversation about what kind of magic I used to save your country.” The words rang with challenge and Zoelyn could see the General tense.
“If I had Neph’s power, I would wipe Rivana from the face of Sanctuary. Nothing would remain of that country.” Valor’s voice was filled with such loathing that all eyes turned to him and even the Delvay lord looked mildly shocked.
“You’ve got the roles wrong here, Val. I’m the bloodthirsty callous bastard. You are the shining honorable knight. We both can’t be assholes,” Neph said with forced levity and what might have passed for a smile on his face.
“We need to go, General. Whatever you have to say to Neph can wait. I will make sure that the matter is settled later. If it is pressed now, however, …” Madren’s words trailed off as his gaze flicked to Valor and then back to Troyelle. “Let us all rest and Valor can focus all of his attentions on finding Jala in Merrodin. Jail Han’shy is in control of the country right now. I’m sure once he is back there, everything will be OK. Jail will make sure Valor gets the help he needs with Jala,” Madren continued with a bit of emphasis on the last.
Troyelle nodded slowly, his eyes fixed on his son and then back to Madren. “Lord Goswin, you have shown unexpected wisdom. I believe we could all use time before we attempt to settle matters.” Turning, he motioned one of his remaining guards forward. “See that Lord Goswin has everything he needs to transport his wounded, then rouse the Merrodin knights and inform them that they are taking Lord Valor home. See that everyone is provisioned as they need to be.” The guard nodded sharply and Troyelle turned his attention to Dominic. “I appreciate your efforts, but please return to healing now.”
“Yes, Milord,” Dominic agreed with a final dark look at the Delvay. Turning back, he nodded to Zoelyn and motioned toward the tent. She pushed the flap aside for him and turned to follow him inside.
“Wait,” Valor’s voice called from behind and they both froze in place. Slowly, Zoelyn turned back to regard the lord and glanced up at Dominic, wondering what he could possibly want with her Guardian. Slowly, the knight moved forward but his gaze was on Zoelyn rather than Dominic as she had expected. “You are the one from the river that Noble was babbling about, aren’t you. I didn’t notice you standing back here with everything that was going on.”
Zoelyn frowned and looked from Dominic to Valor then nodded slowly. “I didn’t mean to cause any trouble,” she said softly while silently wishing she had just stayed in the tent rather than let her curiosity get the best of her.
Valor nodded slowly and motioned to the hood of her coat. “Push it back please. I understand you don’t like being touched and I promise I won’t come closer.”
Zoelyn froze for a long moment and then slowly reached up and pushed her hood back. Her long hair fell down over her face and she brushed it back quickly. It was possible that she was far enough from the firelight that no one would notice the strange coloring other than Dominic. He was used to such things, though. She hadn’t told him exactly what had happened yet, and from the expression on his face she would have some explaining to do.
Valor studied her face for a long moment, his eyes locked on the bruise before he turned back to his father. “Noble said the village girls threw rocks at her and called her Undrae, but she doesn’t look like a monster to me. A half-starved waif, perhaps, but certainly no monster.” He shook his head sadly and sighed. “The village girls used to pick on Jala, too, for being different. You should do something to help this girl, father, before she gets hurt again or ends up hurting someone else to defend herself.”
Troyelle watched his son for a moment and glanced at Zoelyn before locking his deep blue gaze on Dominic. “Tomorrow, after you are rested we will have a talk about your Ward. It seems there are things about her that I haven’t been told.”
“Yes, Milord,” Dominic agreed hesitantly. Nodding, he motioned back to the tent again and Zoelyn darted inside.
Swallowing heavily, she pulled her hood up and gazed up at Dominic in near panic. “What are you going to tell him about me?” she asked. “The truth, Zoelyn. I have no choice on that, even if I wished to lie to the man, and I don’t. I live on his lands and under his protection. He allows me peace and solitude in return for my loyalty and my healing gift when it is needed. Troyelle is a rational man, though, so there is a chance he will understand.” Dominic sighed heavily and rubbed his face.
“What if he doesn’t?” Zoelyn asked quickly, her eyes searching his face for and answer before he had a chance to speak.
“Then I abide by his wishes on the matter,” Dominic replied softly and looked away. “Let’s worry about it when we have to face it, Zoey.
For now let’s just focus on helping these people.”
Nodding slowly, Zoelyn turned back to the wounded and moved absently to gather supplies to help. Her mind hummed with dread over the coming day. If Dominic explained everythin
g to Troyelle, even the rational General would think her Undrae. There were times when even her Guardian looked at her with fear, though he tried his best to hide it.
* * *
Zoelyn’s heart was in her throat as she stepped inside the shadowed interior of the commander’s tent. The only one inside that she actually knew, aside from Dominic, was Troyelle and that was only from seeing him. She had never actually talked to the man personally. The others in the tent she knew by reputation alone. High Lord Elijah Arovan and High Lord Nicoli Blackwolf sat at the table directly ahead of her, while Sebastian Blackwolf and the legendary bard, Blue Bess, stood behind them. As if their presence alone wasn’t intimidating enough, all of them aside from the bard wore expressions that suggested they would rather be anywhere else.
“This is your Ward?” Lord Arovan began in a low voice. His gaze flicked toward Dominic and then to her.
“It is, High Lord. Her name is Zoelyn,” Dominic answered without hesitation.
“Step forward, girl,” Lord Blackwolf commanded in a voice that would put seasoned warriors on edge. His gold eyes watched her and she could see loathing in his eyes as she hastily moved forward and bowed her head to him. “Remove your coat,” Blackwolf ordered once she had obeyed his first command.
Zoelyn hesitated and glanced to her side at Dominic, hoping by some miracle he would save her. She hated shedding her coat. It was like her armor from the outside world. With it on no one could see how truly different she was.
“Do as he says, Zoey,” Dominic urged quietly, giving her a nod of encouragement that didn’t encourage her at all.
The Elder Blood Chronicles Book 4 The Blessed Curse Page 7
