Lexin's Quest (Knights of Kismera Book 2)

by Tamara H Hartl

  He would talk with his father on the subject in the morning. Tonight he would watch over the human woman and tomorrow…tomorrow he would learn more about her.

  “I think it is time you spend a while in the sun, Cerise. Out of bed,” Riordan said in a cheerful voice when he ducked into the small house the next morning.

  He came over to Yetta who was tidying up after changing the bandages on Cerise’s broken arm and gave a brief kiss to the top of the much smaller woman’s head. He said something in Elvish to her that had her swatting at him with the cloth she held. He grinned and then left her to her work, coming to stand by Cerise’s bed.

  He handed her a large linen shirt and her own pants. “Yetta repaired these breeches for you, but your shirt was beyond help, I am afraid. This shirt is one of my father’s. None of the women here are as tall as you.”

  In her world, Cerise would not have been considered tall at five seven, but here, among elven women of the Wilder clans, she was considerably taller. The nightgown she wore was actually a sleeveless shift that came to her knees. She was certain that it had come to the former owner’s ankles. Her underwear were gone along with her boots and socks. She hoped that at least her boots were someplace safe.

  “Yetta can help you dress and then I will assist you outside. We will bring your falke as well. I have one of the youngsters looking for her breakfast.”

  He left before she could even start a protest. She sat there wishing everyone would just leave her alone. She was appreciative of their help and care, but just couldn’t handle all the happiness around her.

  Cerise eyed the falcon and realized that it sat on its perch, looking steadily at her.

  “I hope it’s a nice mouse. I hate birds. The feathers stick in my throat.”

  Cerise gasped as the words, which sounded clearly in her mind. She looked around at Yetta and saw that she was busily attending something over the small cooking fire. Her back was turned.

  Cerise looked again at the falcon, who continued to stare back. Her attention was turned when Yetta came to help her change.

  Once dressed in the borrowed shirt and her breeches, Riordan was summoned and he scooped Cerise out of the bed as if she weighed nothing.

  After a mumbled protest, she gave in and put her good arm around his neck. Riordan took her outside the hut, giving Cerise her first glimpse of the village.

  The inhabitants of the small community were already up and about their daily tasks. It was a pretty setting as the small houses made of sun-dried bricks and thatched roofs blended into the trees. Ivies and flowering vines grew on many of the buildings, aiding in their camouflage.

  Riordan set her on a bench by the doorway and disappeared inside, returning quickly with the falke. He placed the bird gently on a low hanging branch and loosely tied the leather thongs attached to its legs to the limb.

  “Why is she wearing that tie?” Cerise asked him when he came to sit next to her on the bench. “She didn’t have it on before.”

  “I did not want your bird to become lost, Cerise. It is for her safety.”

  Cerise gave a small grunt of acceptance. “Actually she’s not…oh,” she gasped at the tug of pain in her temple. The falcon started to fuss and flap its wings, pulling at its tether.

  Riordan went to it quickly and stroked its back. “Shhh, hold little one,” he soothed. The bird settled once more, making little noises of discontent. Finally it was quiet, fluffing its feathers.

  “You’re good at that,” Cerise commented as he returned to sit once more.

  “I am good at what, mistress?”

  “Of calming those who are frightened,” she answered, not meeting his gaze.

  “Hmm,” was all Riordan had to reply. Then after a while he said, “Cerise, I would ask you some things. Would that be alright?” He twisted his hands in his lap as he looked at her.

  The motion of his hands drew her attention to them. She must have made some noise of distress because he looked at her sharply and then looked around the area in front of them.

  “What is it?” he asked.

  “Your hands, what happened to them?” Cerise inquired, concern in her voice.

  Riordan looked at his hands. He placed them palm down on his thighs, spreading his fingers. A broad scar covered the back of each hand. An odd look briefly crossed his face but not quickly enough for Cerise to miss it. He sobered and flexed his fingers.

  “I was burned when I was but a babe. It is nothing. I have no pain and no restriction of movement.”

  He turned his hands over, showing callused but otherwise unmarked palms. “My touch is still gentle enough for those who wish it.” Riordan gave her a purely male smile that gave her no doubts about what kind of touch he referred and who might wish it. “Now I would know about you.” He crossed his arms over his chest and leaned back against the house.

  Cerise smiled, despite herself. “What do you want to know?”

  “Why would a lady such as yourself be traveling the river?” he asked, his gaze steady on hers.

  Knowing she must still exercise some caution, but not wanting to lie to Riordan, she thought for a second before answering. “I traveled with two other lion men such as yourself and a panther kin as well. We were heading to Burning Wood.”

  She felt she had stumbled on a wrong answer when his gaze sharpened and he tensed. “What business do you have in Burning Wood?”

  “We were looking for someone,” she answered. “How far away are we from there?”

  “It is not but two days travel from here, if you go through the forest. If you follow the river road it is four days. Who were you looking for?” Riordan returned.

  She was about to answer when a shadow fell across them. They both looked up to see another Werre man standing there. He was only three or four inches taller than Cerise. His mane of hair was mostly gray and sported warlock braids on each side of his face. There were lines around his eyes and mouth that gave testament to his sixty summers. He still bore the healthy fit physique of a warrior but was no longer as broad in the chest or as heavily muscled as the much younger Riordan. Riordan must have taken after his mother because Cerise could see no family resemblance between the two men.

  “So this is why you wanted to see me, Riordan. Is this the human you retrieved from the river?”

  “Yes, Da, this is Cerise. Cerise, this is my father, Deverell of the Canif clan.”

  The man took her uninjured arm and hand in his hands and patted her warmly. “’Tis pleased to meet you, lady. I see that you are recovering nicely. I heard you had a very close call.”

  “Yes, sir, I did. Your son and Yetta have been taking very good care of me.”

  “My mate is a good woman. A bit hot tempered like most of her brethren, but a fine one.” He smiled down at Cerise. “How is it a beautiful woman is alone in these woods? You surely have a mate by now.”

  “Father!” Riordan rebuked. “Easy. Cerise has been through enough. Take heed of her feelings.”

  “I am sorry, lady. I meant no hurt,” Deverell said quickly. “It is unusual to find humans this far into the forest, especially a lady alone.”

  “Besides, Da,” Riordan said in a gentler tone, “We were just talking of such things. Please sit.” He stood and offered his seat to his father. Once the older man was seated, Riordan sank to his haunches in front of them.

  “Cerise has just informed me that she and her companions were heading to Burning Wood in search of someone,” Riordan explained.

  “I see,” Deverell said. “No one much goes there anymore. The elves there have been causing much trouble to the various clans around them for years. They are lead by a renegade who wants all the clans under his rule, for no other reason but to have all power and control of the region. It has become hazardous to even hunt.”

  “Our guide wanted weapons in exchange for leading us to Burning Wood. Lexin refused. He did not want to get involved in the politics of the native people,” Cer
ise replied. “Fen almost refused to take us.”

  “Fen!” both men said together, making her jump.

  “What do you know of this Fen?” Riordan asked her.

  “Only that he was a very nervous fellow and Lexin didn’t want me to have anything to do with him.”

  “That was a wise thing for your man to say. Fen is the leader of the renegades. Your fate in his hands would have been uncertain. He is unscrupulous in his dealings, his loyalty lasts only as long as it is profitable,” Deverell informed her.

  “Cerise’s mate is still out there, possibly even now at Burning Wood, if he is not lost,” Riordan told his father.

  Cerise gasped at his comment. “It may be possible that Lexin and the others are close to here?” She stood up quickly but a wave of dizziness brought her back to her seat.

  “Yes, lady, it is possible. But the woods are dangerous now with the renegades wandering them. I pray that your mate is a warrior of some skill or his chances are few,” Riordan said. “I am a tracker and I have been looking for this Fen. The last two moons have been a dangerous time and if we can fell him, the renegades will fold. His words are all that keep the rest stirred up.”

  “Help me, Riordan, help me find Lexin and the others and maybe I can help you in return,” Cerise said excitedly, feeling hope for the first time in four days.

  “How can you help me, lady? Please do not be offended, but you are no warrior, and if you were, you are in no condition to fight.”

  “I’m not, but Lexin is. He was the war chieftain for the High King of Kismera.”

  Deverell stood abruptly. His face had taken on a gray tint. “No!” he exclaimed and with no more explanation, walked away.

  Cerise sat, her mouth open in shock. Riordan stood with his gaze following his father’s retreating form.

  “What did I say?” Cerise whispered.

  “I do not know. I could find no fault with your words,” Riordan said truthfully. “Your mate would be an asset to our cause if he would fight with us.”

  Deverell’s reaction was puzzling to say the least. Any further thought on the subject was halted when two small boys ran up to Riordan with two little mice in their hands.

  They chattered excitedly and handed the mice to him. He answered back and then threw a grin over his shoulder at Cerise as he went to the falcon, mice in hand.

  The falcon screeched in excitement, smelling the small prey and snatching the first mouse hungrily.

  Eeww! Cerise thought and turned her head as the bird ripped into the mouse. When she dared look again, the bird was cleaning its beak on the limb, both mice devoured.

  The two little boys had been watching enthralled and now were tugging at Riordan’s shirt. Unable to understand the Elfin they spoke, she had no idea what they were begging him for.

  Riordan looked at Cerise over the boys’ heads. “If you are mated to a Werren male then you have seen the lion, yes?”

  She nodded, looking at him with some confusion. “Of course, why?”

  “These two wish to be hunted by a ferocious lion. I did not wish to surprise or frighten you,” he offered as explanation.

  “Oh…I see,” she replied.

  “Well they are fierce warriors in their own right, so the lion does not always win.” Riordan stood tall and looked at the boys, pulled back his lips in a snarl and growled.

  The boys squealed and took off at a run, looking over their shoulders. Cerise saw the odd shimmer of light as Riordan made the change. He took off at a slow lope, his lion’s body moving gracefully as he chased the boys.

  The two youngsters did not make it far as they tripped over each other, going down in a heap. Riordan slid to a halt, waiting for them to regain their feet. Once they were up and had put some distance between him, he roared and charged again. He was almost on them when the boys split, one going around a house, and the other ducking into an open doorway. Riordan made a huge leap as he changed his direction and went the opposite way around the house.

  There was a loud scream as the first child apparently came into contact with Riordan. The other boy popped his head out of his hiding spot and then ducked back in. Cerise had put one hand over her heart in surprise at the child’s scream and then laughed when the large male lion came from behind the house, child in his teeth, dangling by the seat of his breeches.

  Riordan was almost back to the front of his house when the second boy gave up his hiding spot and came running. He jumped on Riordan’s back and boys and lion went sprawling.

  The lion lay panting practically at Cerise’s feet, giggling boys climbing all over him. He directed a tawny eye at her and she could have sworn he winked at her.

  Once he decided enough was enough, he rose to his feet and pinned one of his victims with a large paw. The boy went flat and lay still, except for his laughing. When Riordan released him, the boys jumped to their feet and took off running.

  It was then that Cerise became aware of an elf woman calling the boys to her, a smile on her own face. Cerise realized that there were several people watching the play, but after the boys had gone to their mother, the others went back to their business.

  Another play of light and Riordan stood in front of her. His smile faded at the look of pain on Cerise’s face.

  “What is it, lady?” he questioned, squatting in front of her, and taking her hands in his. He uttered a word in Werren that she had heard from Lexin before and knew its meaning. It was not a nice word.

  “I am sorry, Cerise. I did not mean to make you miss your mate. I was unthinking.”

  “I want to go back inside now, please. I don’t feel very well,” she said in a tight voice. She stood shakily and waved him off. “I can do it.”

  Riordan watched her go inside and then called himself seven kinds of a fool. Tomorrow I will go in search of her mate, but first I must speak with father. Something had angered his sire, but Riordan had not a clue as to what.

  Chapter Twenty

  “You will not help this woman! Take her to Raparia and put her on a ship. Let her find her own way home.”

  Riordan’s mouth thinned as he fought the urge to throttle his father. “Da! I cannot just put her on a ship and send her away. Her mate is presumably still alive as well as her companions. Besides, we can always use the aid of more trained warriors,” he argued.

  “How do you know they were not looking for Fen to join with him, hmm? Did you think of that, boy? You do not know where their loyalty resides.”

  “True, but it is not fair to assume that they were seeking to join Fen. Ask her yourself. Judge her reactions to your questions, but do not condemn her and the others ere you talk to her.”

  “No!” Deverell said firmly and sat at his table, propping his elbows on the top and shoving his hands into his hair. “No.”

  “Da, listen. Do you remember when I was in Raparia last harvest season and I heard all the tales of the battle at Hopa in Kismera?”

  When Deverell did not respond, Riordan sat next to him and moved his father’s hands from his face. “Listen to me, you stubborn old fool. Cerise is of the clan MacKinnon. I believe her to be the Dark Lord’s kinswoman, his sister perhaps. If we let harm come to her, however inadvertently, we could bring the anger of the whole of clan Lionblade down on our people.”

  If Deverell had been gray faced earlier, he went positively white. “What have you done, Riordan?” he whispered in shock. He stood slowly and then left his house and a confused and angry Riordan.

  “Cerise,” a whispering voice said.

  Cerise woke with a start, thinking maybe she had had another nightmare but was unable to remember it.

  Moonlight came in from an open window, casting shadows but giving enough light for Cerise to see that she was alone in the room.

  “Cerise,” said the voice again. “I need your help, Cerise.”

  Good and scared now, Cerise felt on the side table for her boot knife and then remembered it was gone. Pretendi
ng bravado she didn’t feel, she sat up and swung her legs over the side of the bed. “Who’s there?” she demanded.

  “Untie the falke. She can help you,” the voice whispered, soft and definitely female.

  Cerise fumbled out of bed, moving to the hearth to light some tender so she could light a candle. Once she had more illumination, Cerise searched the room and found that she was definitely alone but for the bird. Usually at night it sat quietly, feathers fluffed in sleep. Tonight it was perched like always but its gaze was focused on Cerise, its beak open as if panting.

  “Untie the falke,” the woman’s voice repeated.

  Unsure of the wisest choice, Cerise moved to the falcon. The bird sat calmly but its gaze never left her. Cerise struggled with the leather thongs for a moment, then was able to undo them from the perch. Without two good arms, she could not remove the tie from the bird’s leg.

  “Thank you, my lady,” the woman whispered once more. The falke made a sudden jump and took wing.

  “Oh crap,” Cerise muttered, sure the bird was going out the window.

  Surprisingly, it landed on the floor. There was a shimmer of light, similar to the changing of the lion kin, and then there was an elf woman standing where the falcon had been seconds before, dressed in soft doeskin breeches, calf high boots with a leather thong looped around one foot and a light blue tunic with capped sleeves. A dagger hilt protruded from her boot, otherwise she was unarmed.

  She staggered and grabbed the back of a chair then sat in it. “Give me a moment, my lady. I have been in that form for so long now that I need a moment to gather myself.”

  Shocked, Cerise followed suit, sinking into the other chair as her knees turned watery. “Who the hell are you?”

  “I am Vashti and I have been sent to help you.”

  Cerise sat with her mouth open in amazement. “I can’t believe it,” she gasped, staring at the beautiful young woman in front of her.

  Drace had described Vashti to her a long time ago, but Cerise had never had the chance to meet her. Vashti and her husband Ka’Ril had returned to their home in Ferndale before Drace and Cerise returned to Oralia.