by Mina Carter
Alarmed, Vixen jerked her eyes open. She knew if she closed them and succumbed to the tiredness that washed over her, her life would be over.
“Promise you won’t leave me,” she whispered again, her eyes searching, finding Kalen’s face. It was filled with concern, emotion. Perhaps even love? “I don’t have much time. I can feel it spreading already.”
“It’s okay, baby, I’m here. I’m not going anywhere, I promise.” His voice was thick as he held her in his lap and wrapped his arms around her tightly. So tight, under different circumstances, she’d have complained he was hurting her. Now, she barely felt it as her body grew numb. She nodded, reveling in the feeling of being held, closing her eyes for a moment as his hand smoothed her hair gently back from her face.
“Kalen?”
“Yes, honey?”
“I love you.”
She opened her eyes to judge his reaction. Pain crossed his face, an expression gone almost before she’d seen it. She knew her chances weren’t good, but that look confirmed it. Surprisingly, peace stole over her. She’d always known she was going to die, had assumed it would be at the hands of the rogue like so many other warriors. A painful and ignoble death. At least this way it was peaceful, and she got to tell the man she loved that she did, in fact, love him. She could say goodbye. So many warriors didn’t get to, so she felt blessed.
He smiled, lifting her hand to kiss the soft skin of her palm. “Save your strength, love,” he whispered back. “Tell me later when you’re better.”
“Kalen, I’m not going to get better. I’m going to die,” she said bluntly, the two of them locked in their own private world, not paying any attention to the crowd around them. “I just wanted you to know before…” She couldn’t bring herself to say it, just trailed off and looked at him.
“Know what, sweetheart? That you love me?” he asked, his lips curving into that lopsided grin she’d fallen for all those years ago. “Of course you do, what woman wouldn’t?” he joked, his expression dropping serious as he added, “I know, I love you too, sweetheart, always have. Why do you think I was always taking the piss? To get you to notice me, talk to me. That, and you’re gorgeous when you’re mad.”
Vixen chuckled. The movement caused a coughing fit, the spasms robbed her of breath and left her in pain for long moments after it subsided.
“I should have guessed. Only you would piss someone off because you fancied them. But I didn’t mean that.”
“Fancied the pants off actually,” he corrected, “what did you mean?”
She smiled sadly and held out her wrist for him to see. Or rather, so he saw the new mark there that curled lovingly around the delicate skin. He stilled, his eyes widening a little, a stunned expression entering them as he studied the mark in her skin. “That’s a bond mark.”
Her lips quirked, “Way to go, Captain Obvious. It appeared earlier when I realized how I felt about you.”
His arms tightened around her, a low moan in the back of his throat. “Oh hell, Vixen.”
“It’s okay,” she said, trying for soothing but managing tired. She closed her eyes, another wave of exhaustion washing through her and stealing the strength she had left. She couldn’t muster the strength to lift her eyelids again, dropping farther into the blackness that washed up to claim her, her own voice seeming farther and farther away. “It’s better this way. Not good…enough for you.”
*
Kalen felt the instant Vixen’s body relaxed and went slack against his. He was losing her. A moan of anguish escaped him as he clawed her to him and tried to shake her awake, bring her back to him.
“Sweetheart, wake up. Stay with me.” He didn’t care that tears flowed down his cheeks in bloody rivulets. He couldn’t lose her, not now. Not like this.
“Please, you have to do something,” he begged, looking at the one person in the room that might be able to do something. The warden.
Her eyes looked grave as she knelt next to him, her hands already moving, hovering a few inches over Vixen’s fallen form. Her lips moved soundlessly, some sort of incantation as her eyes unfocused. Some sort of incantation…hell, she could have been reciting her damn shopping list for all Kalen cared. As long as it helped Vixen. Hope coiled in his chest as he watched her. He had to have faith. Wardens dealt in magic on a day-to-day basis, worked with it, knew more about it than anyone.
That hope was crushed when she shook her head, opening her eyes to look at him sadly. “I’m sorry,” she said, reaching out to touch his hand. “But it’s already started. The only way to try to stop it would be to offer another soul in place of Vixen’s. But even so, that might not work. It could take both.”
“Try it anyway,” another voice growled, “use his.”
Kalen looked up. Feral and another Kyn frog marched a struggling figure back into the hall, throwing Markus down on the floor in front of them.
“No. You can’t do that,” the pixie argued with terror in his eyes. “That’s cold-blooded murder.”
“What do you call that, if not murder?” the warden asked sternly, her voice echoing with the power of her calling as she motioned toward Vixen’s barely breathing form. Before he could answer she shook her head. “Much as I think he deserves it, it would be murder and I can’t do that. Not even to save a life. The only way it would work is with a willing soul.”
Feral smiled, a nasty little expression that sent chills up Kalen’s spine as he fingered the blades hooked onto his belt. “Five minutes and I guarantee he’ll be willing,” he promised.
“I’ll do it,” Kalen said quietly, his voice a bare whisper as he leaned down, pressed a gentle kiss into Vixen’s blonde hair.
“I will not allow you to torture him. Not while I’m her…”
“What did you just say?” the warden asked, catching the end of Kalen’s sentence, holding her hand up for silence as the room erupted around her, as all the Kyn tried to talk at once.
He looked up as silence fell again, resolve in his eyes. “I’ll do it,” he repeated, his eyes steadfast as they held hers.
“You do realize it’ll kill you?” she asked.
Something in her eyes was as old as time and he knew he spoke to a warden in her full power. Although she was still a young woman, she would be considered a child had she been Kyn, but the power she channeled was ancient. It showed.
He nodded. “I do,” he said firmly, not flinching or looking away as he became the focus of intense interest from everyone in the room. He felt their eyes on him as they waited for the warden to speak again. But it wasn’t the warden who spoke next. Marak beat her too it.
“K, are you sure about this?” he asked, concern and worry coloring the deep timbres of his voice.
Kalen nodded again, looking up to meet his king’s gaze. “I’ve never been more sure about anything in my life,” he said, his voice echoing around the silent hall, conviction ringing in the words. “If she dies, I’ll be ‘Meeting the Rogue.’”
The room stilled. ‘Meeting the Rogue’ was the ritualistic suicide of a warrior with nothing left to lose. If Vixen died, then Kalen would arm up for his last patrol, and spend the night hunting rogue in their lairs until they overcame him. If by some slim chance he survived the night, then he would meet the dawn, seeing his first sunrise at the same moment the sun’s rays killed him. He turned Vixen’s wrist out, displaying the bond mark against her paling skin. Already, she was as cold as the grave.
“I can’t live without her.”
Marak nodded silently, his silver eyes displaying his concern. He didn’t argue Kalen’s decision. Maybe because he had a bond mate himself and lived with the fear of losing such a precious gift. Relief and gratitude filled the tall warrior as he turned his attention to the woman kneeling next to him and Vixen.
“Well, warden, will my soul be acceptable?” he asked, “freely given as it is.”
She shrugged. “We can but hope. All I can do is perform the ritual and then it’s in the hands of the goddess. The decisi
on rests with her.”
Kalen sat quietly, rocking Vixen gently in his arms as the warden made arrangements around them. He whispered sweet nothings to the woman in his arms. Wasn’t hearing the last thing to go when one died? He hoped so, because if this all went south, the last thing he wanted Vixen to hear was his voice telling her all the things he couldn’t when she was alive.
Pain crossed his features. He was already thinking of her as dead. He wasn’t sure either of them would survive this. It wasn’t something he could fight, hit with his fists or a sword and kill, as he’d faced all the problems in his life. Kalen felt lost, unsure of himself…
He opened his eyes, watching as the warden drew a magic circle, her hands swift and sure as she traced the sigils in the air with the ease of long practice. He could just see the edges of them as she activated the circle, a brief flare of magic that faded quickly.
Then she stood over him, smiling softly with a serene expression on her face. “We’re ready for you two now.”
She blinked as Kalen rose to his feet easily, despite the weight of Vixen in his arms. The movement startled a little chuckle out of her. “I always forget how strong you guys are sometimes.” She reached forward, her hands checking Vixen’s vital signs. “We have to move quickly, she’s fading fast. I need the blade removed before you enter the circle.”
Kalen nodded. His first instinct had been to remove the blade, but experience with combat wounds had stopped him. Often a foreign object stuck in a wound plugged the blood loss, at least that’s what he recalled from the first aid lectures the warriors had been given. Most of what they’d been taught was mainly designed to keep someone alive long enough to get them back to the compound. If all else failed, they opened a vein. Shove enough blood down a vampire’s throat and they could pretty much heal anything.
They weren’t taught much about spelled blade injuries. The entire lecture on spelled weaponry had been short and sweet. Something along the lines of, ‘don’t try to be a hero, run the fuck away.’ Kalen hadn’t wanted to remove it for fear of Vixen bleeding out.
“I’m gonna need a little help here,” Kalen admitted, finding Marak already at his side as he gently hefted Vixen’s weight in his arms, tucking her head into his shoulder. “Okay, now,” he murmured, holding her tight as the other warrior’s large hand closed on the hilt of the blade, easing it from Vixen’s stomach. To Kalen’s surprise, it slid out easily, with a fleshy sound that turned his stomach. He paled, feeling green.
“K, you’re not gonna pass out on me, are you?” Marak asked, sounding concerned, handing the blade off to the warden, his other hand already out to steady Kalen.
“Not a chance,” Kalen assured him, tightening his grip as he checked Vixen’s stomach for fresh bleeding. Her Kyn physiology had already reacted to being wounded, slowing her heart rate down until the bleeding was nothing more than a sluggish oozing of blood from the gash in her stomach.
Nodding to the warden, he walked over to where they’d prepared the circle, waiting until she waved him through before stepping forward. Stepping into the magic circle, there was a slight shiver over his skin, as though someone had blown a soft breath over it. Over all of it.
He shuddered, feeling a wave of goose pimples rise and fall as he headed for the center. He turned to face the warden as she settled herself cross-legged on the other side of the chalked border. Over her lap lay the spelled blade, now carefully wrapped in someone’s jacket, just the handle showing over her knee.
Feral’s jacket. Kalen looked up and found Vixen’s patrol partner right behind the warden, his face tight with worry. Always the sensible one, who else there would have thought to protect the warden from the bite of the spelled blade? The last thing they needed was for her to fall to its spell.
“If we’re all ready, I’ll start,” the warden said softly, looking around once, before she closed her eyes and started to chant. Her voice, sweet and melodious, filled the chamber. The language she spoke wasn’t one Kalen knew, but it resonated deep in his soul. Something within him recognized it as ancient. Power built in the room as she traced symbols in the air. Each one flared mellow green. A green that made him think of nature and late summer nights. They hung in the air for a few moments before they faded from view, only visible to the non-magical for the first few seconds as she called them into existence.
The pressure within the circle built. Kalen swallowed and wiggled his jaw from side to side to try to equalize his ears, but it didn’t work. The pressure built quickly into near pain and started to affect his vision. The edge of the circle shimmered in front of the warden as she chanted, like the haze in water when saltwater met fresh and everything became hazy.
He watched as it spread, the forms of those outside the circle becoming indistinct as it raced around the chalked line until it completely surrounded them. He swallowed, looking up as it raced overhead as well, completely sealing him and Vixen within. Without asking, he knew it went under the floor as well, a complete sphere of magic. Alarm hit Kalen. He really hoped the warden knew what she was doing.
Then the circle…sphere, whatever it was, snapped closed with a sonorous clang. The world paused for a moment. Something was coming. He knew it, felt the expectation in the air.
There was a word, clear as a bell.
A word of power, ancient and mystical. Kalen had no idea what it was, but as soon as the warden said it everything shimmered like a bad special effect from an old sci-fi show. It grew into a glare, making him squint and close his eyes.
When he opened them, the circle was gone, the hall was gone…everything was gone. He stood on a woodland path in broad daylight. Born Kyn, it was a sight he’d never seen. He looked around in awe. The colors were so bright, so beautiful. His eyes wide, he spun around only realizing someone stood behind him when his gaze fell on a tall figure.
The warden. But not as he’d ever seen her before. He’d guess not as anyone had ever seen her before. The witching made up her armor-clad form, more an astral projection than a physical manifestation. The green of her magic shaped it, gave the witching form and weaving to make up the amour and mail she wore, even woven through her long hair. In her hand, she held the spelled sword.
“Midnight,” the wind whispered in his ear as she moved, holding out her other hand. She held a small ball of light. Kalen stepped forward.
“Is that…?”
“All that remains of Vixen’s soul,” she said softly, her voice quiet but terrible. It held the baying of the hounds as they hunted, the howl of the wolf and the clash of metal as a thousand battles were joined, as a thousand men died. No human sounded like that, no human should ever sound like that. Kalen’s eyes narrowed in accusation.
“You’re not fully human.”
Her lips quirked slightly. “I never claimed to be,” she replied with a shrug. “Where do you think wardens get their power? Try as the council might to deny it, our power doesn’t come from our human blood, but humanity’s ability to breed with things that aren’t.”
She winked. “I guess my great-great-great grandmother got busy with something that went bump in the night. We don’t tend to think with what, though…sounding the way I do, it doesn’t make for easy sleep.”
The comment and the self-depreciating look on her face startled a chuckle out of the tall Kyn.
“No, I guess not. I’ll admit, I certainly didn’t expect it. I’ll not look at a human quite the same way again, wondering what’s under that delicate exterior.”
“Mostly, just plain old mankind…sorry…humankind,” she corrected. “Sometimes, even wardens get a shock, though. Now, enough talk. You have a job to do. Here, take this.” She handed him the small orb of light. Already, it looked duller.
“It looks sick.”
The orb fit into the palm of his hand easily. As soon as he touched it, it pulsed weakly as if it recognized him, nestling against his skin as though even that effort had exhausted it.
“It is sick, and quickly getting sicker.
Soon there’ll be nothing left. You have to hurry,” she urged, turning him around and pointing along the path. His gaze followed it as it wound through the trees. Up ahead they petered out, and beyond it he saw the gentle rise of a hill.
“She’s waiting for you, up there. I can’t come with you, it’s not my time,” she said, her eyes kind. “But you’ll be fine, go ahead.”
The next moment, Kalen took the last few strides toward the top of the hill and the small temple standing there. He stopped and looked back the way he’d come. He couldn’t remember leaving the warden or walking out of the woods. One moment he’d been speaking to her, then the next he was here. As though thinking it had made it happen.
“Okay, now, that’s freaky.”
He glanced down at the precious burden he carried. The light was almost gone now. The glow at the center almost invisible in this light, only slender threads running over the surface helped him to pick out its form. For a second, he wished it were dark, so he could see it clearly. Like the woman, Vixen’s soul would look beautiful in the darkness of night, even diminished like this. He looked up, renewed purpose in his eyes, and stepped into the temple.
It was almost empty, no furnishings inside, nothing on the stone bench other than a few old leaves obviously left over from last fall. On the other side of the room, a young girl sat looking out the window. Unlike the warden’s astral form, this girl seemed as solid and real as Kalen did. A mere slip of a girl. Kalen had the bizarre impulse to ask whether her mother was at home.
“You could try, but as I don’t actually remember my mother that could be somewhat of a problem,” she replied, turning to face him with a smile, her voice as terrible as the warden’s had been. Kalen froze for a moment, startled by the ancient eyes in such a youthful face. Same as the warden’s had been when he’d glimpsed the power within her, but a thousand times worse. Then, he realized he hadn’t actually spoken.
She smiled. “Of course, all my granddaughters carry a part of me within them,” she said, her eyes unfocused for a moment as though in thought. “Ahh, Maribel…her journey is just beginning. A difficult journey, but that tends to happen to the powerful ones. And you don’t need to speak. Here, mere thought is sufficient.”
