Gabaran glanced down at his friend, his eyebrows even higher now. “If you have to ask that, friend, then no wonder you are far busier making enemies than love.”
Dehil exploded out of the cocoon of blankets with a sharp bark of disbelief. Heat that had nothing to do with the fire scalded his cheeks and neck. His gaze flew to the bundle of blankets that exposed only a long red braid.
Gabaran chuckled and turned away. His point made, he left the Elf and Warrior to their own ends while he studied the way south with a rapidly failing smile.
The expansive rock formations stretched for miles in all directions. Even here, the mountains that had forever ringed the lands fell far into the distance, where heat waves and dust shrouded their heights. The hazy air warped the horizon, but could not disguise the broad rise of land and what perched atop it.
Only a handful of miles away, a plateau, flattened as if by the thumb of a god, rose straight up out of the desert floor. A bridge of land arced from the top to the bottom in a curve gentle enough to create a ramp. The arch, hollowed at its center, appeared to be the only way to the top.
Gabaran squinted, but even his fairer eyesight saw little other than the cluster of tent-like shapes atop. He heard footfalls, quick and stealthy, but didn’t need to turn to know their owner.
“What see you, friend?” he asked the shorter, leaner male who appeared at his elbow.
Dehil exhaled and eyed the dangerous path before them. “I see little. The air warps my sight. Over a dozen tents, one larger main one at the rear.”
“You’ve been here before, however?”
“I have,” Dehil grimaced. “The Mercenary Lord is a vile, sour, little man whose greed outweighs his intelligence. He holds the map they need, but knows little of its worth. It may be easy to retrieve.”
“Easy to retrieve this time, do you mean?” Gabaran asked. He scowled. “Perhaps I have little understanding of the deeds here, but that is fools talk. We are surely outnumbered.”
Dehil snorted, “I am no fool, but a spy is not without means. Allies approach from the east. Our backs are not shield-less.”
“Allies? Was it not you who warned of treachery?”
“Aye, there is some plot afoot that I seek to out-maneuver. True allies come,” he said, his voice confident, but not cocky. Truth rang in his words. “And I’ve a hope to weed out the traitor.”
Gabaran grunted and squinted again at the stronghold impossibly high above them.
“I hope your concept of allies is the same as ours, friend,” he said. “Or this will be a battle with a quick end.”
***
Jadeth frowned at the line-up of males. Their backs to her and silhouetted against the morning southern sun, they were a study of differences. The lean Elf with long midnight black hair was whom her gaze strayed toward however, when talk of allies and enemies rode the sharp breeze to her ears.
Allies.
Enemies.
Is it, she mused grimly, always so black and white?
“Jadeth?”
“Hmm?” she glanced up, startled, to find Dehil halfway to her.
Dehil halted, studying her uneasily with cerulean eyes. She didn’t blame him. She had been less than happy to see him. More than willing to lay the blame at his feet. Along with his bastard heart.
“Are you all right?” he asked. He tilted his head quizzically, and the straight black strands of his hair brushed his collarbone.
Jadeth’s fingers twitched with the sudden ache to brush his hair aside. She caught herself, hand halfway there, and dropped her arm. Heat, which couldn’t be blamed on the low burning fire, crept across her high cheekbones. She turned away and busied herself with tying her thin blanket to her satchel.
“Jadeth, talk to me,” Dehil captured her hand where it gripped the bedroll, his long fingers halting hers with a gentle motion. “We haven’t talked in two and a half centuries. I missed you.”
“I blamed you,” Jadeth’s fingers twitched beneath his. She didn’t look up at him. If she looked at his pale blue eyes, she might forget what he did to her, to them. “I watched you run.”
“I made a poor choice,” he replied. “And I know I can never bring back our people. But don’t let our past destroy a future we all are working for.”
Jadeth glanced up, puzzled. “I don’t understand. What does that have to do with our future?”
Cerulean eyes wavered, but steadied on hers at last.
“More than you think,” he said. “I have learned many things as a spy. Knowledge that is good. Knowledge that is bad. Knowledge that should never be known.”
Her face tightened and her gaze searched his. He studied her back, his gaze guileless in the morning light. She stiffened and blinked before turning away and grabbing for the bundle of blankets.
“Jadeth, wait,” he entreated.
She spun on her heel and stalked away without looking at him.
Dehil swore softly and kicked at the dying fire. The pile of charred wood imploded. Embers burst into the air, caught on a suspicious breeze, and surged high into the sky.
He watched them until they reached the pair atop the rock formation, and then turned away. He rubbed absently at his bare chest and wondered at the hollow ache deep inside.
***
A gloved hand smoothed over a knot of flesh, a scar that marred Ivo’s sculpted chest. Other scars marked his back and arms, a constellation of memories and pain.
Emaranthe kissed each one, her soft lips lingering with each gentle caress.
“You are so beautiful,” Ivo whispered. His breath tickled her left earlobe, stirring her pale hair. “So perfect.”
“Not so perfect, Ivo. I’m…broken.”
His mouth hovered at the hollow of her throat, and then trailed light butterfly kisses up the slender column of her neck to her jawline, chin, and full lips.
He kissed her then sat back. “If you are broken, then I am shattered. Together we are whole.”
Her smile widened, putting the suns themselves to shame.
“How did—” he sobered, but his words were drowned out by a loud hail from far below their perch. Without removing his broad hands from her bare back, he twisted to see who was so inopportunely interrupting.
Jaeger’s frosty glare didn’t quite match his reddened face.
“Brother, we need to counsel,” he bellowed. His gaze seemed fixed somewhere to the right of the entwined pair. “The day wanes.”
Ivo grunted. His thumb traced the countless ridges—scars— rippling from her spine to her right hip. Each one his calloused fingers touched sent a spike of silent anguish deep within. His heart, the one he long thought brutalized and numbed by the deaths of his niece and sister-in-law, beat raw within his ribs. Her scars, long hidden, remained unspoken of.
“Ivo?”
He smiled for her benefit, but his gaze grew troubled.
The real world, the one of gods and monsters, had intruded once more. His jaw flexed; the only outward sign of the turmoil within.
“Come, duty calls,” he spoke at last, feeling her wide golden gaze scouring his face for a sign of his mood. He captured her face in his hands and kissed her. He poured every ounce of hope into the brush of his lips on hers.
They would need it, he knew, before the end.
***
Midday waned, the two suns ready to cross paths in the cloudless sky. Six pairs of even gazes, grim with severity, met from around the circle of the small campfire. They did not sit, couldn’t sit with the eve of battle drawing nerves tight.
“Tell us what you know,” Ivo studied Dehil, noting the bitter, defensive stance had long been dropped. In its place cool confidence reigned. The Elf was a spy, his knowledge valuable, but his pale blue eyes were clear and gave nothing away. “Tell us about Lureg’s encampment.”
Dehil straightened. His gaze honed in on the giant warrior’s. A man who would have been hard to kill before, would be nearly impossible to now that he had something—someone—to live for
.
They would need all the impossible they could find.
“Lureg’s camp is protected on all sides. His position above the desert lets him see all,” he smirked. “Well, almost all. Last I checked he was missing an eye.”
“What manner of army does he control?” Jaeger asked. He jerked on the tie of the pauldron protecting his left shoulder.
Dehil watched Jaeger reluctantly don the armor he had worn for hundreds of years. Like the man within, it was scarred, battered.
He answered the question. “Lureg’s army is small. Bands of rebels held loosely at his beck and call. At any given time, he can muster perhaps three hundred Mortals within an hour.”
“And Immortals?” Jadeth asked. She closed her eyes, dreading the answer.
“Few and I don’t know their caste. They are generally reserved for his personal guard.”
“Weaponry?” Ivo asked. He frowned at the mention of caste. Caste wasn’t a true hierarchy, only a way of organizing and describing what abilities did what.
Jadeth was a Healer, but her powers originated in nature. Her energy was pulled from the living plants in their world. Other Immortals might have healing gifts, but from a different energy source. In general, Healers were rare and carried weight within The Unknown Sun’s ranks. The guild leaders had tried to tempt Jadeth to join larger battalions, or even the Guards, but Rodon himself had intervened to keep their little family together.
“The usual knives, axes, swords, only a handful of archers,” Dehil answered. “This far out, supply chains are limited. They would have their own forges and workshops as well.”
Ivo grunted in acknowledgement and turned to survey the distant plateau. When this was over, they would retire somewhere green, and in peace, he pledged. His taste for war had dimmed, but his taste for life had not. A petite woman, with pale hair and freckles had seen to that. He fought the urge to turn and watch her, to study her every movement. His heart tripped and cart-wheeled at the thought of losing her, the stab of pain so bad that he absently lay his hand to his metal plated chest.
“Entry and exits?” Emaranthe asked, her gaze on Ivo’s unyielding back. “Are there holes in their defenses?”
Dehil jerked his chin at the monolithic rock structure and the arching causeway. “The causeway and a large elevator to the north. Only the southern side of the plateau touches the river, where it stagnates at the oasis.”
Gabaran frowned at this, but spoke after remaining silent for so long. “So, little to no contact with the river as an entry?”
“No, everything and everyone uses the causeway or elevator,” Dehil affirmed. He glanced up at the old Elf, noting his friend’s wary frown. “And they guard both well.”
Jaeger’s frown matched the Elf’s. “That will be too far for me to control the water if the fight goes sour.”
“Then we keep it neat, tight, and quiet,” Jadeth said. “Keep the sentries out of the loop, sneak in. Close off entry and exit. Invisibility is our best shot.”
All eyes turned to Dehil. Heat crept up his neck, but he nodded in agreement.
“We move in at sunset,” Ivo said finally. He didn’t turn at the sounds of receding footsteps or the sharp barks of commentary between the others as they hurried to prepare.
He flinched slightly at the touch of a gloved hand on his armored bicep. Light and fleeting, it was gone before he could capture it in his.
***
Emaranthe tugged the worn hood over the coronet of intricate braids Jadeth had woven with her nimble fingers. She relished the solitude of the darkness within the hood, the illusion of quiet it gave if even for a moment.
“You are sure reinforcements come?” she asked Dehil as he approached.
“They should be here within the hour,” Dehil answered. He watched twin flares of gold brighten with the shadows of the hood. He wondered what her eyes saw when they swirled with fire. His curiosity won out.
“Emaranthe, what do you see when your eyes glow so?”
The twin gleams surged brighter in response and he sensed rather than saw her lips curl.
“I see everything,” she replied. “I see life. I see death. I see light, and I see dark.”
He frowned. “What does that mean?”
No answer, she was already gone, a curl of ghostly flames the only thing ever to prove she had stood and spoken. She reappeared beside Ivo, appearing tiny and lost beside the massive male. When their hands twined, he looked away.
Her words sent a shiver of dread up his spine. It was no secret many Immortals had multiple gifts, he not excluded, but a gift such as foresight was unheard of. Troubled, he turned to find the old Elf watching him only a few feet behind.
“You heard?” Dehil asked his friend, not liking the stony set to his features. “Do you think she knows something?”
“I don’t know,” Gabaran replied. “She is powerful, far more powerful than her fragile frame would suggest.”
“She could burn down the entire world with her power,” Dehil flung out an arm to encompass Ein-Aral. “Her restraint and control is remarkable, Gabaran. How does she not burn from within?”
“She lived with my tribe for ten years,” Gabaran said. He dragged a scarred hand over his face, smearing sweat and grime. “As you know, we rule the snow heights of the north, and you can imagine the destruction a Child of Fire could wield there.”
Dehil swallowed. His gaze roved to the pair of lovers. “You taught her restraint, control?”
“I didn’t have to. She refused to wield fire for anything more than tending a hearth.”
“Ever?”
“Ever. Right up until the day she left us to seek her birth name and people.”
“Did she ever find them?”
“No.”
Chapter Six
Ivo surveyed the group standing before him. He forced his gaze not to linger on the petite blonde hidden in the folds of an indigo cloak. Five pairs of eyes met his gaze and his heart burst into a frenzy of anticipation. They stood before him, steadfast and brave. A remarkable band of soldiers more worthy than most.
He steadied his breathing, narrowed his focus on the trial at hand. Distraction would surely bring death, something even Immortals feared. Perhaps, even more than Mortals did. At least as a Mortal, you knew death, expected it. An Immortal may die, but only The Four knew when, or if, they would resurrect in a new body, to live and fight again. Ivo didn’t want this, the uncertainty, for any of his friends, his family.
His gaze lingered on Emaranthe despite himself. His throat threatened to close. Instead, he pushed the doubts aside and pulled the deep-seated storm of his power awake. The power instantly churned deep within, where it surrounded his soul, before spreading through his bones in tendrils of energy. He clamped it down, corralled it before it could escape and turn the air into a seething mass of anger.
“Ready?”
At their nod, he turned to study the eastern valley that raked across the desert. Allies would flood the desert plains from the east, the valley their passage south from the hidden stronghold of The Unknown City. He jammed his helmet on and the waning daylight darkened for him.
“As soon as the sun sits on the plateau,” Dehil spoke up. “We rush the elevator. There will be guards at the bottom and top. We need to take them out before an alarm can be raised.”
Ivo grunted; the sound hollow in his darkened world. He studied the sun, gauging its distance to the plateau rim.
“Gabaran,” he called over his shoulder. He sensed rather than saw or heard the old Elf position himself at his side. The Mortal male could die and stay dead here and he would have hard work to prove the Elf’s death wouldn’t wound them. A heavy hand fell on his shoulder, and the Warrior half wondered if the Elf understood everything, he’d thought. Instead of speaking, Gabaran released him and drew his black bow in readiness.
Ivo exhaled, wondering if his next words would get him killed. “Gabaran, I beg of you a favor.”
The Elf stiffened. S
tarlit eyes turned their full force on the Warrior, eyebrows knit in wary defiance.
“Please,” Ivo whispered. “Please watch over her.”
He didn’t elaborate. He didn’t look to see if the old Elf understood. Gabaran did, and the defiance turned to grim understanding.
Ivo forged ahead. Footsteps fell in behind. Their feet trod so swift and light that no sound carried to give them away. Each heavy step fell into rhythm with Ivo’s heartbeat until he and it raced.
***
The miles to the plateau were eaten up in a matter of minutes. Even Mortal Gabaran did not fall behind the unnatural speed of an Immortal. Impressed, Dehil eyed the older, larger, male and saw the same thing on his friend’s face that he had seen long ago when they had first met.
Acceptance. Acceptance of a fate, though not of his choosing, he was fully able to honor. It was, Dehil realized, the thing redemption was made of. He smiled; the lines of bitterness and regret fading as his lips inched up.
Redemption.
He liked that.
The agreed upon meeting spot flew into view as they moved over the landscape. An outcropping of rock large enough to hide a sizeable amount of people in its shadow and still be undetectable by the stronghold was the place where they would meet their allies.
“Here,” Dehil called out over his shoulder and veered behind the massive rock. He slowed, his form rippling into view. Panting slightly, he waited for the others to slip into the shadows. “They should be here any minute. The sun sits on the plateau.”
As a single unit, they turned to study the way east. The dimming sunlight turned the desert into a red and orange forest of stone fingers. The ravine snaking to the east yawned like a scar until it vanished into the horizon; however, it remained devoid of movement and sound, but for the hollow moan of the hot wind racing through the vast chasm.
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