“Like Rissa taught us in hidey-go-seek?”
Lady bless the healers’ apprentice for teaching the Na’Chi children that game. Kymora smiled. “Yes, exactly like that. Ready?”
A small hand gripped hers. “But what about you?”
Her stomach knotted. As tempting as it was, she couldn’t risk his life by expecting him to help her. There was no way she was going to be able to keep up with the boy, not without both of them being spotted and caught.
Pottery shattered nearby; the violent sound seemed too deliberate to have been an accident. Wood splintered, the noise just as startling and shocking. Under her hand, Tovie flinched. She hugged the boy tightly.
Were the intruders looting or destroying the Na’Chi’s possessions? Belongings they’d made by hand with the crafters. Kymora regretted the loss. Hours of painstaking work destroyed in less than a heartbeat. Through the wattle and daub wall of the house next to them, someone uttered a curse.
“I’ll be all right. When you see Lisella, tell her I stayed behind. Go on now,” she whispered, mouth close to his ear. “Keep low and run!”
The child took off.
A small spurt of unease curled in her stomach at her decision to remain behind. Should she stay hidden or reveal herself? Surely the renegades would be less likely to harm a human than a Na’Chi? Regardless, Tovie needed time to make his escape.
Sweat prickled the sides of her face and under her arms as she fingered the amulet around her neck. The indented circle etched into the middle represented the sun and cycle of life, the wavy beams the symbols of strength, a gift of life the Lady bestowed upon them all.
“Mother of Mercy, help me stand against the ignorance of hatred,” she murmured, and made her way back to the main pathway running through the village.
“Faral, have you found any sign of the demons?”
Kymora tightened her grip on her staff. The man was no more than a stone’s throw away, the ripe odor of manure in the air indicating he was near the animal enclosure. The gravelly voice wasn’t one she recognized, but then there were thousands of Light Blade warriors and she didn’t know them all.
A muffled reply in the negative came from a distance. Taking a fortifying breath, she tapped her way from the cool shade of the house and used the heat and angle of the sun on her face to guide her down the pathway.
“The Na’Chi are all gone.” She mustered all her confidence to keep her voice raised and strong. “These people have been given sanctuary within human territory. You’re breaking the Chosen’s covenant. Who are you?”
A door hit the wall of the house as if someone had flung it open, and hasty footsteps scuffed the ground. “Veren?” Another male voice, higher pitched. Even without sensing his wavering aura, the tremor in it betrayed the man’s nervousness. “Is she one of them?”
“I’m Kymora, the Temple Elect.” Kymora held her ground as running footsteps converged from several directions. Lady’s Breath, how many of them were there? Surely her title as leader of their religious order would protect her? She swallowed against a throat suddenly gone dry. “The destruction you’ve caused is intolerable.”
“The Lady’s Handmaiden?” The nervous man’s sudden intake of breath came from her left. “Veren, we weren’t told there’d be any humans here… especially not her!”
“Who told you that, countryman?” Kymora asked.
“Hold your tongue, Faral,” snarled the gravelly voice. Stale sweat and the iron tang of blood wafted on the gentle breeze, becoming stronger with the nearing sound of footsteps. “I don’t care if she’s the Temple Elect or my mother. Anyone who supports those demons betrays us….”
The darkness in his tone made her shiver. Kymora opened her mouth to rebuke him. Something struck her in the face, hard enough to buckle her knees and send her to the ground. She lost her grip on her staff, heard it land at her feet.
Stunned, she sprawled there. Tears burned in her eyes. Small pebbles and debris pricked through the material of her dress, but the sting of them poking into her was nothing compared to the pain throbbing in her cheek. It radiated into her jaw, paralyzing the side of her face.
“Veren, you can’t do that! She’s the Lady’s Handmaiden!” Faral’s pulsing aura reflected Kymora’s shock. “What about the tenet of respect…? She deserves better than this!”
His reference to the Lady’s ideology consolidated her suspicion. There was a chance these were Light Blade warriors.
Fingers tangled in her hair and jerked her head upward. She cried out, one hand reaching up to relieve the pressure, the other clawing over hot dirt and rough-bladed grass, searching. She found the end of her staff, closed her fingers around it. With a cry, she swung hard. It cracked against something soft and a howl of pain rent the air. She was released.
“Lady of Light!” Veren’s hoarse curse shook with anger.
She scrambled away from him. Her boot caught on the hem of her dress, it tore, and she stumbled before righting herself.
“You dare attack a Handmaiden?” Adrenaline gave her strength even though she wasn’t able to disguise the quaver in her voice. She lifted a shaking hand to her aching jaw. “You swore to serve the Lady by protecting the innocent and those in need, to respect those who served Her in Her Temple. Everything you’ve done here today is wrong!”
“The only thing wrong is allowing those half-bloods to live among us!” another voice retorted behind her. She swung around. “Councilor Davyn warned us…”
“Shut up, Bennic….” Veren hissed.
So these men were supporters of Davyn? The ex-Councilor had manipulated others for years, driven insane by his need to avenge his daughter’s death at the hands of the Na’Reish. What twisted, venomous lies had he told them? Her brother and the Blade Council needed to know about this.
“Faral, does your family know you’re a part of this? Would they approve of you attacking defenseless children? Of killing those who’ve done you no harm?” she asked. Were they all fanatics or could she count on the support of some of them? “Are you willing to sacrifice your honor and bring shame to your family by defying the Lady’s will? The Chosen’s mandate? You’d risk having your rank revoked?”
“Where’s the honor in a leader and priestess who ally themselves with a race who will use us as blood-slaves,” the third man declared, his deep voice rich with righteous anger.
“The Na’Chi don’t enslave humans.”
Veren snorted. “So, that half-blood whore of Kalan’s didn’t drink his blood?”
Frustration burned through Kymora’s veins at the accusation. Annika’s feeding from Kalan had saved her life after being stabbed by Davyn, his plot to prove she was the animal he assumed her to be thwarted. Despite trying to keep that incident low-key, neither Kalan nor the Blade Council had been able to stop gossip. Bless the Lady only a select few knew how the Na’Chi suffered the blood-addiction rather than the usual enslavement of human to demon. She inhaled a calming breath.
“The messages you sent out to every town and village… Is it true all Light Blades have demon blood in them?” Faral’s question held such confusion and uncertainty. His emotions were so tangible his aura throbbed.
“The history annals of Chosen Zataan revealed that truth. Copies were sent with the messages. Didn’t you read them for yourself?”
“Lies! The messages held lies!” Scorn and derision laced Bennic’s deep voice. “If Light Blades or those with Gifts are supposed to be of demon-get, then where are the body markings on our skin? Why don’t we crave blood?”
Kymora shivered, the stark confirmation of their Light Blade identity established with his words. She turned toward him. “Master Healer Candra believes the traits have weakened over time, or that some never inherited them.”
“Dominant traits and inherited features? Passed on through bloodlines? You make us sound like livestock,” he hissed. “Our Gifts are Lady-given and have nothing to do with demon blood!”
“Then how do you account for Annik
a being able to heal and kill with a touch?” she argued. “Sensing human emotions, connecting with animals, manipulating energies… the Na’Chi all possess skills as varied and as similar to our own Gifted.” Their auras swirled and contorted with dark tendrils of hostility and resistance. “How can you ignore the Lady’s words? She’s accepted them as Her children as much as you or I.”
“Veren? You told us Kalan made up that lie, that the Lady would never utter such blasphemous words. You said Davyn declared the Na’Chi were as dangerous to us as the Na’Reish and had to be killed so our people would no longer be divided… so the Blade Council could focus on the Na’Reish threat across the border.” Faral’s bewilderment held a hint of anger. “What’s the truth?”
Kymora’s heart pounded on hearing the lies told to Faral. How many other Light Blades had been led astray by Davyn’s deception?
“What does your heart tell you?” she countered. “Think of your families, your homes. The Council will place sanctions on anyone who supports you because of what’s happened here today, but I can speak on your behalf if someone has misled you.”
“Don’t listen to her.” Bennic’s voice deepened further with his reprimand. “She’s trying to divide us.”
“The truth, Faral, is that the Na’Chi will turn on us. No alliance will hide their true nature. They’re just like the Na’Reish,” Veren stated. His rasping laughter sent a shiver along her back. “As for the Council placing sanctions on us, you need to bear witness, and that’s not going to happen, priestess.”
Despite the heat of the sun beating down on her, coldness spread throughout Kymora. Dear Lady, was he going to kill her? Would the others stand by and watch? Slowly she repositioned her feet to widen her stance and brought her staff across her body in a relaxed but ready position.
“Do you really think you can fight us off?” Ugly laughter mocked her again. “You’re blind, Temple Elect.”
Her heart hammered in her chest. Five was the best she’d ever managed to defend herself against, and then only for a short time. Her breathing quickened. Why hadn’t she listened to Lisella and accepted her help?
She kept her voice firm and steady. “If you know I can fight, then you know it means I’m not helpless.”
“It’s nine against one. Even sighted you’d be hard-pressed to prevail against us.”
Kymora swallowed hard and drew on every shred of strength she possessed, determined to face the impossible. Lady willing, she would survive. She had to. The Blade Council needed to know of the threat to the Na’Chi.
“Veren, no….”
“If you can’t stomach this, Faral, then leave.” Her attacker stepped closer. She sensed others closing in on her. “Let those loyal to the cause deal with this.”
Goose bumps prickled over Kymora. The cause? Davyn’s cause? The ex-Councilor’s influence was a greater threat than the Blade Council had anticipated. Veren’s use of the term cause suggested more than the few gathered around her. How many others were there committed to seeing the Na’Chi dead and the alliance fail?
“Lady protect Your servant,” she murmured.
If Veren believed her blindness made her an easy target, he’d soon discover just how thorough her training with the Temple guards had been, and how very wrong his assumption was.
They all would.
Chapter 2
FEAR reeked of a pungent bitterness that lingered in the nostrils, but Varian wasn’t able to detect even a whiff of it on the gentle breeze. He did, however, catch the sharp spicy scent of anticipation. His opponent lay somewhere ahead, concealed, waiting, hoping to ambush him. Well, he was one Na’Chi who wouldn’t be walking into a trap.
“Where are you hiding?” he murmured.
With eyes narrowed, he scanned the sunlight-dappled clearing ahead. A large fallen tree lay partway across it, years of rot and weathering scarring its gnarled length. An animal trail paralleled the downed tree but the debris along its path was undisturbed, the moss coating its bark intact. He hadn’t expected to see any telltale marks or tracks; the warrior was cunning and unpredictable, more so with the pressure of being hunted by half a dozen Na’Chi.
“You’re here somewhere.” In the thicker forest to Varian’s left, a patch of darkness flickered. Adrenaline rushed through his veins. There, in the deeper shadows, he could make out the semiprone form of a body. He bared his teeth in a savage grin. “Found you.”
Remaining crouched behind the rocky outcrop, Varian glanced to his right. Pressed up against the side of another tree, a young scout with dark hair twisted into multiple braids and dressed in brown was barely visible. Violet eyes, very much like his, locked on him. Varian pointed in the direction of the hidden intruder, then swirled one finger in the air.
The scout nodded sharply, slid to the ground, and crawled away using the dense brush to his advantage. Zaune would circle around the clearing and either force their opponent into moving from his position or flush him out into the clearing.
Capturing the human was preferable, but Varian doubted this one would go down without a fight. With three other warriors already tracked and taken, he was the last one to be run to ground.
It wasn’t often he met someone with a skill similar to his scouts, but this one had learned fast and led them on a merry chase all over the mountainside all afternoon. His grin widened in grudging respect for the warrior’s abilities.
A trilling war cry broke the quiet of the forest. Varian heard a muffled curse, then the impact of a body hitting another. From the shadowed thicket to his left, two tangled forms rolled into the clearing, each grappling with the other, trying to get the upper hand. Fists struck flesh in dull thuds, in rapid succession, accompanied by painful grunts.
Chunks of dirt flew from beneath their flailing limbs as the two scuffled for position. The dark blond warrior ended up on top, pinning the leaner Zaune to the forest floor with his greater weight.
Varian sensed the rapid buildup of energy within the human warrior, the familiar hum of it grazing his senses. The Light Blade possessed the kinetic power to kill through any weapon or even the touch of a bare hand, the skill a Gift from the Lady and a counterbalance to the Na’Reish’s immense physical strength.
Moving swiftly, Varian stepped out from behind the rocky outcrop and came up behind the pair. The older man blocked and deflected Zaune’s desperate strike and placed a hand on his chest. Triumph flashed across his face.
“You’re dead!” he hissed, then the warrior flung himself to one side, almost as if he sensed Varian’s presence, and rolled to his feet in a defensive half crouch. “I knew there had to be more than one of you,” he panted, chest heaving, his deep blue-eyed gaze never leaving him as Varian circled left around the clearing.
Sweat shone on the warrior’s begrimed face and soaked his torn shirt, and some of his long blond hair had pulled free of the tie at his neck during the scuffling.
“That’s four of your scouts I’ve bested today, Na’Chi,” he taunted. The precise way he mirrored Varian’s every step contradicted his disheveled appearance of exhaustion. There was plenty of fight left in him yet.
“And you think to add me to that tally?” Varian asked. The warrior wasn’t armed, but even without a blade, he could kill with his Gift. “You can try.”
Varian leapt and caught the man around the knees and took him to the ground again. A well-placed elbow impacted his ribcage, startled a grunt out of him, and loosened his hold enough for his opponent to twist. Varian blocked a blow meant for his head. Half a heartbeat later two more scouts joined the fray.
“Contain him, don’t kill him!” he ordered.
A curse ripped from the human. He fought hard, twisting and bucking. It took all three of them to flip him onto his stomach and pin him to the ground.
“Concede?” Varian gripped the warrior’s wrists against the small of his back, straddling his full weight across the man’s legs to stop him kicking.
Another heated expletive singed the air. “Lady
’s Breath, I should’ve known you’d have more than one partner hidden around the clearing.” Beneath them, the warrior finally stilled. “A mistake I won’t make again. I concede, this time.” Self-disgust laced his tone.
Varian met his scouts’ gazes and gave a nod. “Don’t be so hard on yourself, Arek.” They released the man and moved back from him. “Your skills have improved in the few months you’ve been training with us.”
The Light Blade warrior rolled onto his back, his lips curving in a twisted half smile. “A compliment? From you?”
“He’s been known to give them.” Zaune scrambled to his feet, no longer “dead,” and dusted off his breeches. “He’s a hard taskmaster but fair. So consider yourself one of the privileged few.”
Varian shot Zaune a dry look as he held out his hand to Arek. The man took it, accepting his help to rise. “So, how many others wait out there, eh?”
Varian whistled. The remaining scouts revealed themselves.
“Two more? You had ten scouts searching for me? Just like a full Na’Reish patrol?”
“You were ready for this test.” Varian clapped him on the shoulder. “But we’re going to have to work on you concealing your scent. The Na’Reish will detect it as easily as we did.”
“Mother of Mercy, you Na’Chi and your enhanced senses.” Arek shook his head. “They give you the advantage.”
“And your Gift of using energy to kill with a touch? I think that balances the odds, Light Blade.”
“So, will you teach me how to mask my scent now?”
“Not today. We’ve trained hard, and knowing Lisella, she’ll have organized a farewell meal for those returning to Sacred Lake tomorrow—”
“Lady help us if we’re late for that,” Zaune commented, his eyes sparkling despite his somber tone.
Arek snorted. “Indeed. I don’t know whose tongue is sharper when displeased, hers or Kymora’s.”
An unbidden smile curved the corners of Varian’s mouth at Arek’s description of the two women. Growing up together, many of the scouts around him had been on the wrong side of Lisella countless times, and the human priestess might be blind, but she rarely missed a thing, her hearing as keen as a Na’Chi’s. Both possessed warm hearts, but when their tempers sparked they were a sight to see.
Alliance Forged Page 2
