by Isabo Kelly
Gale ran too fast for her to do much more than cling to her neck, but Vic did manage to look over her shoulder. Behind her, she saw Jacob mount and follow fast on her flank, the remaining soldiers right behind him. And behind them, the GeMorin pursued, running at a speed nearly matching the horses.
They raced for Georna castle, the GeMorin close behind. Panic raced with them, biting Vic’s heels. They weren’t going to make it. The horses had been running for two days. If the animals faltered now, they were dead. High mountain slopes rose around them, stark and unforgiving. But no help, no village. No castle. Tears streaked the sides of her face as the wind whipped her raw. The pounding of hooves on the rocky road echoed their death knell. They charged around a bend, into the crook of the mountain’s arm.
And before them, the castle rose into view. Along with a charging force of Georna guards. The soldiers parted ranks, allowing the weary king’s soldiers to race past, then closed behind them, cutting off the GeMorin’s pursuit.
Jacob caught up with Vic and moved past her to lead the way to the castle. Georna castle sat atop a narrow tower of rock, etched from the surrounding mountains to stand alone like a finger pointing toward the sky. The dark red-brown walls of the castle blended with the mountain rock so it was impossible to tell where mountain ended and castle began. Beneath, a small village spread to the north and west, surrounding a swift moving river and filling the flat space between the pinnacle and the mountains at its back.
A path, difficult to find if unaware of its starting point, spiraled up the rock tower. The king’s soldiers slowed to a walk for the steep climb. At the top of the long ascent, the open gates of the castle and a small castle guard waited.
The gates sealed shut as the last of the king’s soldiers tumbled into the courtyard, and grooms ran forward to take the exhausted horses away. Vic dismounted, legs wobbling beneath her. She hesitated before handing Gale’s reins to a young boy, patting the mare on the shoulder. Gale replied with a soft whinny before allowing herself to be led away.
In the safety of the courtyard, Vic scanned the remaining members of their group. Garath, Kevin, Tiya, and Henry were still standing. She blew out a long breath, her relief dampened by the realization that only half of the original fifty King’s Guards remained and a number of them were seriously wounded.
She closed her eyes briefly then moved to stand at Jacob’s elbow. He didn’t glance down at her.
The red-clad figure of Baroness Georna emerged from the castle before she could worry about Jacob’s distance. She was stunned by her first close view of Baroness Elizabeth Georna. The woman was as old if not older than Queen Sara, but her porcelain white face showed only the first hint of aging. Her hair was the color of golden thread and her eyes were an amazing violet. She wasn’t what Vic would call beautiful—but startling in an attractive, exotic way.
The Baroness, ignoring formalities, walked up to Jacob and took his hand. “I see you’ve had some trouble returning for a visit,” she said calmly.
Her voice reminded Vic of the sound of the river echoing off the mountain walls, soothing and inspiring all at once.
She looked over the haggard remains of their band. “Come. All of you will be given rooms and your injuries tended.” Without further comment, she turned and led them up the short curve of stone stairs and into the castle.
Jacob walked a pace behind the Baroness, his expression stony and unreadable. Kevin and Tiya moved to walk alongside Vic, who stayed a step back from Jacob. She glanced up at the young giant beside her. Then looked again. Kevin focused straight ahead, but his gaze kept straying to Baroness Georna, a strained look pinching his eyes and lips. Regret?
Before she could wonder at this new puzzle, the corridor opened into an audience hall. Baroness Georna turned, addressing the group again. “I must apologize for not personally escorting you the rest of the way, but I must see to the reinforcement of our walls and the security of the village. My steward will ensure you are attended.” She turned to address Jacob directly. “I’ll send Dreem to care for your seriously wounded. When you’ve settled and your injured tended, send word. The smith, Brandon, arrived yesterday. He’s brought sufficient weaponry to outfit your group immediately. I believe you are in a hurry?”
“Yes, my lady,” Jacob said, a hint of humor breaking the strain in his voice. “You are as always quite perceptive.”
Baroness Georna’s cheeks lifted in a small tender smile. “Until this afternoon, then,” she said. A tall, lanky man in his early sixties approached the group and led them through the maze of corridors to the guest wing.
Once away from the Baroness, Vic hazarded a second glance at both Jacob and Kevin. Jacob’s expression remained unreadable through the blood and grit smeared on his face. But Kevin’s still held that hint of something she wanted to call regret. He caught her scrutiny and a slight smile touched his lips.
At her unspoken question, he said softly, “It’s a long story, Victoria. Perhaps later, I’ll have time to tell you.” Tiya took his hand and squeezed, a silent message passing between them.
Vic’s room wasn’t lavish, but it was a significant improvement over her mat on the floor of the Hole’s headquarters. Across from the small four-poster bed draped in Georna red, an open wardrobe displayed a number of evening and day dresses in various sizes. Thoughtful, she mused, as she thumbed through the selection.
To one side of the room sat a wooden bathtub, the inside draped with cloth. Warm water already filled the tub and fresh towels sat atop a nearby table. The fire in the small stone fireplace kept the single room at a comfortable temperature. After the cold journey, the heat warming her cheeks felt as drugging as a jolt of whiskey.
She stripped and climbed into the hot bath, washing away dirt, sweat and blood. Exhaustion hounded her without mercy, but she refused to give in to the overwhelming desire for sleep. There was too much to do. Despite her body-numbed fatigue, her thoughts spun—first to Arlana, then Jacob.
She hadn’t had much time to consider the new urgency of their mission. Not really. She knew it was vital to rescue the baby, for her mother’s sake as much as anything. But now the full weight of their responsibility crashed on sore muscles. There was so much more at stake now, so much more to lose. Only now, with her body too tired to move, did that reality sink in. She’d had vague fears before, a part of her understanding that the game had changed. But as the warm water swirled around her, the reality of the dangers of this new game laid before her.
The fate of the world depended on them rescuing a baby. She didn’t bother to consider any other option. They would rescue Arlana because anything short of rescue wasn’t acceptable.
She sighed, shifting to a more comfortable position in the tub. Then there was Jacob. His coolness was disturbing and not a little frightening. What if he were hurt and wouldn’t admit it? But no. Anger radiated beneath his cool façade. She’d felt his anger as she now felt the warmth of her bath.
She ducked her chin to her chest and pursed her lips. Why in the name of the Goddess was he angry? Was it the loss of so many soldiers? The attack?
Even as her tired mind groped for excuses, she knew Jacob had been expecting an ambush. Something else bothered him. Something he wasn’t ready to discuss with her. So she’d have to wait.
Her eyes drifted shut, snapped open, drooped heavily again. Time to get out. Her fingers were wrinkled from her prolonged stay in the water. Wrapping in a warm towel, she went to the wardrobe to inspect the dresses. The thought of putting on a fresh, unsoiled dress made her sigh with pleasure. She didn’t want to don her dirty travel clothes now that she was clean. She also didn’t want to face the Baroness again in such rough attire.
After minutes of scrutiny, she chose a simple amber silk that looked close to her size. She laid the dress across the foot of her bed, then curled up on the mattress, promising to shut her eyes for only a minute.
The fire had almost died by the time she opened her eyes again. Outside, the daylight had
faded. It was at least mid-afternoon. Groaning, she threw herself out of bed. She dressed in a hurry, finding the dress a remarkably close fit, then ran her fingers through her hair and stepped out into the hall.
She ran, almost literally, into Tiya. The sorceress looked tired but composed in a borrowed gown of blue violet.
“Good afternoon, Victoria,” she murmured. “Did you rest well?”
“Yes, my lady.”
“Please, call me Tiya. I’m too tired for formality.”
“Tiya. I fell asleep.” She shook her head, rolling her eyes as if it were a great tragedy.
The gesture brought a rare smile to Tiya’s weary face. “Baroness Georna sent for those of us well enough to meet with Brandon. Will you walk with me?”
“Of course.” She had to work to keep from frowning. “Will Lord Fordin join us?”
“He and Jacob have been with Baroness Georna for the last hour. He snuck out while I was sleeping.”
Tiya scowled, leaving Vic to wonder if the lady was joking or truly upset with her husband.
Tiya led them to the same audience chamber they’d passed through earlier that morning. Kevin, Jacob, Garath and Henry were with the Baroness, the soldiers without serious wounds, and a man who was possibly the largest human Vic had ever seen.
He was almost as tall as Kevin, but closer in breadth to a GeMorin warrior. Great muscles bulged beneath his sleeveless leather tunic and worn leather breeches. Thick golden hair hung to the top of his enormous shoulders, held in place by several small braids. His weathered face was covered in a short, neat blond beard that broadened an already strong jaw. Green eyes peered from behind heavy lids that were at once intimidating and fascinating.
Baroness Georna took the huge man’s arm, a slight blush touching her porcelain white cheeks, and led him toward Vic and Tiya. The huge man gently held the Baroness’s hand where it rested on his impossibly large biceps. The comfortable way they walked together hinted at a relationship far more intimate than Vic would have suspected. But one she could understand looking at the large smith.
“Lady Tiya,” Elizabeth Georna introduced, “Victoria Flash, I’d like you to meet Brandon Kerr, smith of the upper Georna Reaches.”
“It’s a pleasure, Brandon,” Tiya greeted, ducking her head politely.
“Pleasure,” Vic mumbled, trying not to feel awkward next to Tiya and the Baroness. She looked into Brandon’s gaze. In those green depths, she saw a weapons master, a skilled artisan and the hint of a consummate gambler. She exhaled and smiled.
“The pleasure is mine,” Brandon answered.
His voice befitted his profession, sounding like the deep rhythmical beat of a hammer on metal.
“Shall we?” The Baroness nodded back to the waiting soldiers.
Vic automatically sought Jacob. He stood to one side of the group talking in hushed tones with Kevin. When he noticed their approach, he caught her gaze and she faltered. He watched her with a mixture of heated desire and that unnameable anger that had simmered since the GeMorin ambush. Frowning, she questioned him with her gaze, but received no answer, no explanation. She dropped her gaze, sucked in her bottom lip and fell back into step beside Tiya.
As the group gathered around Brandon and Baroness Georna, Jacob moved to stand at Vic’s side, taking her arm without speaking. He didn’t even meet her upturned and questioning glance.
She paid enough attention to know that they’d soon be selecting the weaponry they’d need for the rest of the journey and, afterward, would retire to the Baroness’s private dining hall for dinner. But her gaze kept flicking to Jacob’s stormy eyes as the heat of his body pulsed through the thick fabric of her borrowed dress. He gave no clue to his thoughts.
When the weaponry was finally brought into the room and set on a table, she pulled her full attention back to her surroundings. The weapons before them were an amazing blend of artistry and practicality. Intricately carved designs decorated the handles of razor-sharp swords and knives. Bracers of all sizes and styles sat next to small, mirror polished shields. The metal was an odd reddish-gray.
“What type of metal is this?” she asked the hulking smith. “I understand it’s the only metal strong enough to break GeMorin teeth. But I’ve never seen anything that color before.”
Brandon smiled, his movement reminding her of an opened fissure during an earthquake.
“The metal comes from a large meteorite buried deep in Davin’s Breech,” he said, “a mountain peak in Upper Georna. It’s the only place, to my knowledge, that such a meteorite has been found.”
“Meteorite? As in a rock that fell from the sky?”
“Exactly. It probably fell a billion years ago. Maybe before the Georna range was formed. My ancestors discovered it by accident while mining the mountains and we’ve been working with it ever since.”
“But, if it’s a meteor, then your supply is limited?”
“Yes. But we’ve still not tapped more than a third of the entire rock. I’d say the problem of low supply won’t be something my great-great-grandchildren will need to worry about.”
Her fingers twitched at the thought of controlling something so valuable. With a heavy sigh, she examined the weapons laid out on the table. Her gaze settled on a splendid short dagger, the broad blade looking like it would fit her neck scabbard.
She ran a finger over the smooth metal and gasped. “It’s warm,” she announced.
Brandon chuckled. “One of its unique properties. That’s a fine knife. Will it be for you or the general here?”
The smith nodded knowingly toward Jacob who still loomed at her elbow.
“For my…” she began.
“She won’t be needing any of these.”
Chapter Twenty-One
Vic frowned at Jacob, as Brandon raised a brow. Jacob’s voice was quiet but the anger in his eyes crept through his words.
“Actually,” she said, addressing the smith but keeping her gaze locked with Jacob’s, “I will be needing some of these.” She looked back at the smith. “I lost three good knives in the battle with the GeMorin. I need replacements.”
“Ah, a knife fighter, are you? I have some excellent darts.” He pulled a small throwing knife from further down the table and presented it.
She weighed the instrument, balancing the hilt in her hand. Then, using her fingertips, she flipped it from grip to point and back to grip several times, testing its balance and feel. “This is a remarkable piece,” she said, grinning. “I’ll take it. And that thick-bladed dagger. It’ll fit nicely into my neck scabbard.”
“Neck scabbard? Concealed?”
“Best kind.”
“Well, I haven’t met anyone who could use one of those effectively in years. And you don’t have trouble with clothing or hair interfering with retrieval?”
“I did at first. Had to practice, but I’ve got the knack of it now.” She tried to relax into their discussion of daggers—a well-loved topic—but she couldn’t forget Jacob’s declaration or ignore his scowl digging into the back of her neck.
After picking a third knife for her boot and a second wrist knife, Brandon presented her with a pair of bracers. The metal circled most of her forearm, parting just enough for her wrist scabbards and knives. Jacob hastily pointed to the sword and bracers he wanted.
“Don’t you want a shield?” Vic suggested.
“I won’t need one.” His answer was clipped and monotone.
She barely had time to thank Brandon when Jacob ushered her away from the table toward Kevin and Tiya, effectively preventing her questions. She wasn’t happy with his manipulation, but she held her irritation in check. They’d discuss this later.
Baroness Georna joined them, and Vic couldn’t help but notice the way Kevin flinched and dropped his gaze to the floor. He spoke cordially and with obvious respect, but he wouldn’t meet her eyes.
The Baroness noted his reaction too.
“Young giant,” she said, gently touching his hand. “You still have fe
elings of remorse? Don’t carry this burden, Kevin Fordin. You weren’t responsible for her madness. You were responsible for her release. Hreedin would have been pleased with the swift end you gave her.”
He took a long breath and raised his head to meet her gaze. She returned his look with a subtle, warm smile. “Come,” she said to the entire group, “it’s time to dine.” She took Brandon’s waiting arm and led the way to the dining room.
As they walked to a door at the rear of the audience hall, Vic whispered to Tiya, “Hreedin?”
“Hreedin was a friend of Baroness Georna’s,” she explained in tones not meant to carry beyond their small group. “She was a beautiful, gold dragon.”
“Dragon? I thought that was a rumor—that the Baroness had a pet dragon.”
“Hreedin wasn’t a pet,” Tiya said. “She was a friend.”
“The dragon went mad?”
“She was driven mad,” Kevin said softly. “By Prince Erick.”
“The Prince,” Vic breathed. The late Prince of Karasnia had caused a lot more trouble than was commonly related it seemed. “But…”
“Two years ago, Hreedin attacked the Fordin train on its way to the Baronies Meeting,” Jacob said.
She heard the sorrow in his voice overshadowing his earlier anger.
“She wouldn’t have attacked but for the twisting of her mind by Erick. Our young friend here was forced to issue the killing blow.”
“You killed a dragon?!” Vic wasn’t sure which surprised her more—that the Prince had driven a dragon insane or that Kevin had actually killed it.
“With a little magical help,” Kevin admitted, smiling at his wife.
“Goddess,” Vic exhaled. “I had no idea. And I thought we’d gotten the whole story behind the Prince’s treason.”
“That particular part was hushed,” Tiya said, taking her husband’s hand. “Out of respect for Baroness Georna.”
