Chael's Luck (A Knights of Dorathan Novel)

by Chester, Mireille

  He grinned. “That is more believable.”

  My stomach dropped.

  “But don’t worry, I was telling the truth.”

  We stood side by side and watched the downpour outside.

  “It looks like we’ll be postponing our departure.” Ian blinked at a particularly bright flash of lightning.

  I grunted. “So it would seem. Hopefully it doesn’t last too long.” I sighed in frustration and took a sip of coffee to warm myself.

  “How’s your side?”

  “Better.”

  “You know, that’s the same answer you give me every time I ask you.”

  “And I’m not lying. Every day it gets better. Whining about the fact that it hurts isn’t going to speed up the healing process.”

  He grunted. “Alright. New topic.”

  I noticed this was his way of steering us off of a current conversation that was leading to another of our full blown disagreements.

  “Alright. What do you want talk about?”

  “Dreams.”

  I frowned. “What about dreams?”

  He glanced at me and I caught the embarrassed look on his face as another bolt of lightning lit up the room.

  “Never mind.”

  “No, really. I just mean, what kind of dreams. Dreams as in, what do you want to be when you grow up, or dreams as in, last night I had a dream.”

  “Would it makes sense if I said both?”

  I smiled. “You dream of what you want to be when you grow up?”

  He shook his head. “I’m doing what I want to be doing.”

  I raised an eyebrow at him. “You want to spend the rest of your life wandering around.”

  His eyes narrowed. “Not everyone needs to prove themselves to others. And I don’t just wander around. I find some of the rarer herbs and sell them to the healwives. It saves them having to leave their patients and I get to know I’ve helped someone who might need it.”

  I stared at him, suddenly embarrassed with myself. I’d spent my entire life being judged, and here I was, doing the same to a man who’d done nothing but walk away from something because he’d given a damn about his beliefs. He stared at the horizontal lines of rain streaking across the window. He ran a hand through his dark blond hair and blew out of his nose.

  “Never mind.” He started to turn and I grabbed his arm.

  “Wait. I’m sorry. Really, I am.”

  “Are you always like this?”

  I frowned. “Like what?”

  “Irking, stubborn, ignorant, spiteful…” His grey eyes met mine. “Pick one...”

  I felt my temper flare and I took a deep breath to calm myself. I’d deserved that. “No. Only since I’ve met you, actually.” I tightened my hold on his arm as he started to leave. “Ian, wait. It’s the truth. You… I don’t know. You are the first person other than my father, aunt, or uncle to ever know my secret. It makes me uncomfortable. You call me Chaela; I’m not used to that. This whole situation makes me feel…” I paused, trying to find the word I needed. “I think I feel threatened, or maybe vulnerable.” I clenched my jaw with the realization that vulnerable was exactly how I felt. For the very first time, someone could use my secret to hurt me. I let go of his arm. “I’m going to check on Klora.”

  I held the door open for a fraction of a second before running to the barn. The horses lifted their heads and Klora spooked as the wind caught one of the doors and slammed it open. He kicked at his stall, panicked. I quickly closed the door, cringing at the pain in my side, and made my way to his stall.

  “Settle down, Klora. It’s just me.”

  He put his head over the half door of his stall and I patted him between the eyes. The kittens that had been sleeping on his back were nowhere to be seen.

  “I guess that’s just us, yeah?” I gave him a handful of grain. “We scare off everyone that tries to be nice to us.”

  He nodded his head as if he agreed.

  “It’s just you and me, now.” Klard snorted behind me and I turned to give him some treats as well. “And you. Don’t worry, Klard, I won’t be leaving you.” I gave True, Ian’s mare, a handful as well.

  “Well, you can’t have True.”

  The dark dappled mare whinnied her welcome to her rider.

  I rubbed the crescent of white on her forehead. “I wouldn’t leave with your horse, Ian.”

  “I didn’t think you would. I was trying to be funny.”

  I looked up and found him leaning against one of the stalls, his arms crossed. I noticed how the muscles stood out under his tunic and I felt my ears turn red.

  “It was funny.”

  He shook his head. “No, it wasn’t.”

  We stared at each other awkwardly.

  “I made more coffee.” He gestured toward the cabin.

  “I could use a cup.” I gave the horses one last pat before following him back to the house. He’d lit the lamps and the rooms smelled of fresh coffee and burned bacon.

  He rolled his eyes when he noticed my nose wrinkle at the smell. “I tried to make a good breakfast.”

  I started to laugh.

  He gave me one of his exasperated, annoyed looks and I had to sit as my laughter exploded from my lungs.

  “I give up,” he mumbled and disappeared into the kitchen. He reappeared holding two cups of coffee, one of which he handed to me before going to sit in a chair.

  “It’s a voice.” He looked up from whatever spot he was looking at on the floor and met my eyes.

  “What?”

  “My dreams. I never remember my dreams. This one, though, I’ve had two nights in a row. All I can remember is a man is talking to me, but I can’t remember what he looks like. All I recall is one thing he says.”

  “And what’s that?”

  He took a sip of his coffee and shook his head. “It’s stupid. I shouldn’t have brought it up.” His eyes found the spot on the floor once again.

  “Only you can decide,” I mumbled.

  “What?”

  “My dreams of late… that’s how they end. I have no idea what happens in them. All I remember when I wake up is a deep voice telling me that only I can decide.”

  He ran a hand over his face. “The dead will rise again.”

  I stared, speechless.

  “Yeah, that’s how I feel; just how you look right now. What in bloody hell does that mean?”

  My heart started to pump a little faster. “Do you think it has to do with the book? Maybe that’s why the person who took it wanted it.”

  “Maybe. He wants to raise someone from the dead?”

  “But, who?”

  He growled, frustrated. “Gods, I wish Alex was alive.” The confused look on his face gave way to a softer, sadder one and I felt a pang in my chest as I thought of my father. Suddenly, the mouthful of coffee I had seemed impossible to swallow past the lump in my throat. I forced it down and set the cup on the floor, wiping my arm across my face to wipe away the tears that had been welling in my eyes.

  Ian seemed to materialize beside me. “I’m sorry, Chaela.” He put a hand on my arm.

  “What for?”

  “Everything.” Though Ian said the word, it was my father’s voice that reached my ears. The tears broke free and Ian pulled me to his chest before I could object. His cheek pressed against the top of my hair, his arms wrapped around me and for the first time in all of my eighteen years, I truly felt small. My tears soaked into the front of his tunic.

  “Shush, Chaela. It will be alright. We’ll get the bastard.”

  I took a few deep breaths to get myself under control then looked up at him. “There’s no doubt about it.” I pulled away when it looked like he was about to wipe my tears away and I took care of them with the heel of my hands. I went to my pack and pulled everything out before systematically putting everything back in while checking off the list in my head. Doing something this routine helped to take my mind off of recent events and the fact that Ian had officially been the first man to
hold me, even if it was just a comforting hug.

  Chapter Four

  Klora’s ears perked backwards.

  “Something’s coming,” I warned Ian. He nodded and we turned off of the road. The ditch was filled with tall shrubs that made great hide outs. A group of five Knights cantered into sight and I put a hand down to warn Whisk to keep quiet.

  They slowed to a walk and I swore inwardly.

  “I doubt he came this far west,” stated one of the younger Knights whom I recognized as Blair, one of the lads Knighted the year before.

  “If I’d killed my aunt, my uncle, my father, and an old man, I’d go as far west as I could,” countered one of the older knights I couldn’t place.

  “I still don’t think he did it, Dad, I mean, Sir.” John frowned. “I trained with Chael for thirteen years. He’s a good man.”

  My heart jumped in my throat and I glanced at Ian with wide eyes. He placed a finger over his lips.

  John’s father grunted. “It isn’t our job to question, John. You saw the evidence for yourself. It was his dagger they found at his aunt and uncle’s murder, he was absent from the ball, and no witnesses stepped forward to account for his whereabouts at the time they were killed. As for his father and the old man, well, when there are three men present, the first two are killed, and the third disappears, it is safe to assume the third is responsible.”

  “But why bury them? If he’d murdered them, wouldn’t he have left them to rot?”

  His father glared. “Enough. Our job is to find him and bring him in for questioning. If you’re going to question orders, you can go back to Gleama and explain to the council why you are back before the rest of us.”

  John paled visibly.

  Ian put a hand on my arm. ‘Breathe’, he mouthed to me, and I was sure I was paler than John. We stayed hidden until we were sure they’d gotten out of hearing range.

  “I didn’t kill them, Ian.”

  “I know.”

  “But they have evidence? How can they have evidence? It doesn’t make sense! I have my dagger right here! I had it on all night! I swear I never took it off!” I could hear my voice rise an octave, but I was beyond caring. “By gods, we got ready for the banquet, Dad gave me my new belt and dagger, and it hasn’t left my sight…” I stopped short.

  “What?”

  “It’s my old dagger. Someone got a hold of my old dagger! That has to be it! It also explains why I couldn’t find it the following morning. I didn’t think much of it at the time because I had my new one and we were pressed for time to leave for Alex’s place…”

  “It could have been anyone’s dagger, Chaela.”

  I shook my head. “No. If they say it was mine, it was mine.”

  “Almost all daggers look the same.”

  “Not mine. Caleb stole it from me when we were about fifteen. He carved Chael’s Luck into the hilt.” I pulled my new one out and handed it to him, hilt first. The same words were carved into the blade of it.

  “Why carve that into your new dagger?”

  I shrugged. “For as strange as it sounds, he’s my namesake. I’ve had Chael’s luck my entire life. The funny thing is, for as much as I complain to him about it and swear at him because of it, I talk to him a lot. I have a feeling he might know how I feel.”

  Ian looked at me like I’d lost my mind and I clenched my jaw.

  “Never mind. I don’t know why I thought I could tell you that. Anyhow, that’s how they have my blade and how they know it’s mine.” I turned Klora and headed deeper into the woods. It seemed that traveling the roads was now out of the question.

  I heard Ian swear and Klard trotting to catch up to us.

  “Gods, Chaela, I’m sorry. It’s just… not many people talk about Chael as if he’s a person with feelings. I mean, the only time the god comes up is if someone’s having a bad day.”

  I took a deep breath and decided to get off the topic of the god of bad luck. “Do you think whoever murdered my aunt and uncle was the one to steal the book and kill Dad and Alex?”

  Ian grunted. “I’d like to say no, but I’ll have to go with yes. I can’t see a connection between the two, but I won’t say there isn’t one just yet. Do you know anything at all about the murders?”

  “Not much. General Krane said he was positive it was someone who knew what they were doing. Both were stabbed under the ribs. Other than that, there wasn’t much to tell.” I blew out of my nose.

  Ian reached over and squeezed my arm. “We’ll figure it out.”

  I tried to smile, but couldn’t find it in me. It turned out he’d been wrong with reassurances that my aunt and uncle’s murder had nothing to do with me.

  *****

  Our trip through the woods to the edge of the sand plains was pleasant enough. Of course, that was when Ian and I could bear to talk to each other without arguing. We were in the middle of another disagreement, this one about how we should go about crossing the plains without getting lost.

  Klora stopped short as the greenery abruptly turned to sand. I gave him a kick and hung on as he reared in protest. Ian looked back at us from Klard’s back while True, who had been nominated to be pack horse, snorted and swatted a fly away with her tail.

  “What now?”

  I glared at Ian and gave Klora another kick. He refused to cross from grass to sand. I dismounted and stalked toward the sand line. My horse reared and pulled me clean off my feet.

  “Here, hand me the reins.” He pulled Klard to a stop and reached for them.

  “Back off, Ian!”

  Klora backed up, tripped, and fell onto his side. I let go of the reins to let him get up. Once back on his feet, he stood and looked from me to Ian. An hour later, we still hadn’t managed to get him to put one foot down onto the sand plains.

  Ian looked into the sky and swore. “We may as well set up camp and try again in the morning.” He stalked off toward the trees we’d been hoping to leave behind earlier that day, Klard and True in tow.

  I patted my horse between the eyes. “What’s gotten into you? We need to get across these. It will only be for six days, Klora. Six days. I need you to do this.”

  He blew out of his nose and shook out his mane.

  “Have a good chat with him, Chaela, because tomorrow we cross with or without him.”

  I glared at him. “If you think I’m going anywhere without this horse, you’re mistaken. I’ll detour and take the mountain path if necessary.” I patted Klora’s neck. “Now there’s an idea, don’t you think?”

  “We are not detouring.”

  “Oh, you’re right, Ian. We are not detouring. I am detouring. I am taking Klora and Klard and we are leaving.” Whisk raised his head. “And Whisk. We are all leaving.” I tethered my horse and unsaddled him. “I am tired of you treating me like a useless, annoying, woman!” I threw my pack on the ground and unrolled my blankets. “I have been tracking, living in the woods, and fighting since the first day my father could get me on a horse. What in the world do I have to do to prove to you…” I stopped short. “No. Forget that. I don’t need to prove myself to you. I have spent my entire life proving myself. I have proven myself.” I pulled the coffee can out and took a few deep breaths to calm myself. How in the world did that blasted man manage to get under my skin each and every time he opened his mouth? I glanced at him and tried not to notice how the flames turned his grey eyes amber or how his arms bulged as he brought the axe down to cut some fire wood. I knew part of the reason I couldn’t stand the man had something to do with the fact I was starting to see him as exactly that; a man. Another reason was that he refused to call me Chael now that we were travelling, and insisted on talking to me as if I was a woman. But you are a woman, my inner voice argued with me.

  “Chaela!” His voice broke through my internal ranting.

  I looked up, my intent to tell him to call me Chael, but my voice caught in my throat. He was running toward me, his dagger ready. My second warning not all was right was Whisk’s gro
wl just as my head exploded with pain and all went dark.

  When I finally came to, my head was pounding. I lay still, trying to remember what had happened. A groan to my right made me open my eyes and my heart dropped.

  “Ian!” He lay on his side, his hands tied. He’d been beaten. He opened his eyes and tried to smile.

  “I’m fine. How are you?”

  “My head hurts, but other than that, I’m alright. What happened?”

  “We were fighting… again. They managed to sneak up on us. One got you on the head.”

  “How many?”

  “There were five.”

  “Were?”

  “There’s three now.”

  The men around the fire laughed.

  “Go get the Knight. He’s got to have some expensive things on him. We can sell it when we reach another town.”

  Ian’s eyes widened as a man walked over and grabbed me by one of my tied arms before dragging me back to the fire. The man pushed me down to the ground in front of his friends and proceeded to check the pockets of my vest.

  “These vests are worth a fortune.” He frowned as his hand brushed against my chest and he pulled my tunic up to investigate. “By gods, this one’s a woman!”

  His friend grunted. “Women aren’t allowed to be Knights.”

  “Well, obviously she’s pretending to be one.” The man kneeling over me grinned. “Either way, this is turning into a very profitable excursion.” He squeezed my face in his hand and turned it from side to side. “She’s decent looking enough.” He mumbled a few things to himself as he cut my band of cloth off and took an appraising look.

  “What do you think? Will she bring top dollar?”

  I looked on as Ian tried to get to his feet, anger and fear fighting for a place on his face.

  “She won’t if she’s pure. I had one man say he wouldn’t pay a cent for a newbie. Complained as how he had to wash the blood up afterwards.” He grinned and pulled his belt off which he threw back behind him. “I suppose that’s an easy enough fix, don’t you think, girly?”