Alliance Forged

by Kylie Griffin

  “Commander.” One of the Light Blade warriors leaned forward in the saddle. “Let me go back and search for Arek.”

  Varian flinched, his gut coiling and writhing like a night-winder caught out in the midday sun. The dark beast inside him roared in favor of the suggestion. It wanted to return to the clearing and seek vengeance for the loss of a good warrior.

  “I’ll go with Larn.” The lone female Light Blade’s voice shook. “The Second may still be alive.”

  The odds were slim. He resisted voicing the thought. They all knew the chances. Acknowledging it aloud would only antagonize the humans and add to their pain.

  And his.

  “You honor the Second with your loyalty.” Again his words came out warped.

  The Light Blades shifted in their saddle along with the crofters; all shared uncertain glances among themselves. He wrestled to control his darker emotions, but it was like trying to trap a wild lira. They kept slipping and darting through his mind, avoiding any leash he cast out to contain them.

  “My orders stand. Our priority is the safety of the Chosen.”

  “Varian.” Kalan’s call drew his gaze. Emerald eyes locked with his, blazed with empathy and understanding. Varian gritted his teeth. Merciful Mother, he couldn’t deal with this. Not now. “No one could have predicted this outcome.”

  The darkness within surged. The forest, the ground, the other warriors, even the air between them all bled of color except one. Red stained his vision.

  The burning, the pain, the guilt chased each other around and around inside his head. Every turn became smaller, tighter, more vicious. Each sharp enough that it felt like he was being skinned from the inside out.

  The war-beast beneath his thighs shifted and snorted as if sensing the predator in him. He drew the reins taut.

  “Varian.” Kalan’s voice sounded tinny, distant. “Na’Chi, look at me. I need you.”

  The meaning of his words penetrated. The tension receded so fast it left Varian swaying in the saddle. He gripped the hard leather edge to steady himself.

  Slowly he lifted his head. His nostrils flared at the sour stench tainting the air. He blinked at the mix of raw fear and blatant concern on the faces around him, human and Na’Chi alike.

  He shuddered. Lady of Light, how close had he come to losing it? To letting his Na’Chi half consume him? He only allowed that to happen during battle, never any other time. Nausea churned in his gut.

  “Varian?” Kalan’s hard tone steadied him. Once again their gazes locked. The human leader straightened in the saddle, his hand pressed against his injured side. “I’m relying on you to get us all home. Larn, Forence, when we return you can organize a search. For now, you follow Varian’s orders.”

  Neither Light Blade looked happy but they assented.

  “Can I rely on you to get us home, Na’Chi?”

  Kalan’s question focused him. The human knew. He knew of the struggle going on inside him. It was there in the depths of his gaze.

  Varian nodded, unable to vocalize his agreement. He grasped on to the task, needing it like a ship needed an anchor in the storm.

  Tomorrow.

  Tomorrow he’d deal with what had just happened. Right now their survival depended on him.

  That he could do.

  Chapter 23

  THE hospice proved almost as chaotic as the Temple’s tutoring hall. The strong antiseptic odor of Vaa’jahn hit Kymora as she and Lisella pushed their way through the crowd congregating outside the building. She hesitated in the doorway, wincing as dozens of emotions bombarded her, all varying in intensity. They were so tangled she couldn’t tell one person from another.

  Fear underscored every impression though. News of the patrol’s return had spread like a brushfire, particularly when there were rumors of the Chosen being wounded. Of all the emotions hitting her, this one was focused. The tightest knot came from a huddle of auras somewhere inside the building and to her right.

  Was Kalan there? Was he all right?

  Too many voices. Too much noise.

  Kymora sucked in an unsteady breath, her heart pounding. Her fingers squeezed Lisella’s forearm. Mother of Light, let him be all right.

  The Na’Chi woman’s hand closed over hers. “Ehrinne, Ashah, would you wait here? Stop these people from coming in and disturbing the healers? I’ll take the Temple Elect into the hall.” The two Light Blade bodyguards murmured their assent. “This way, Kymora.”

  Some of the chatter from the crowd dimmed as they made their way through the reception area, then into the hall. Their boots clicked on the stone floor, mingling with the murmur of voices coming from somewhere ahead.

  The odor of Vaa’jahn strengthened. Childhood memories stirred and Kymora shivered. So many negative feelings belonged with her past inside this building.

  Death had taken her mother within these walls.

  She’d lost her sight.

  And now Kalan was here.

  Before her illness, she’d visited the hospice with her mother many times, delivering packages for patients from loved ones who lived in the villages her mother visited while trading.

  From memory, she knew individual cots lined either side of the hall. One between each window. A small cupboard sat next to each to store the patient’s belongings and to provide a table for their medications or a preparation area for treatments. A single stool resided under the end of the bed along with a chamber pot. The area around each bed would be conspicuously clean and neat.

  The most serious illnesses or injuries were treated at the far end of the hall, in a curtained-off area. Her heart picked up speed as Lisella continued walking along the hall. Were they headed for that corner?

  “What can you see?” She couldn’t voice her question any louder than a whisper. “Do you see Kalan?”

  “Yes.” A wealth of emotion saturated the affirmation.

  Kymora’s knees threatened to buckle. Her throat squeezed shut. “Is he all right?”

  “Candra and Annika are with him,” Lisella assured her. Would Annika be able to use her healing Gift to help him? “I can’t see a lot. Many of the patrol are here, too, gathered around. Taybor, Jinnae, Jole, Varian, Larn…”

  Kymora searched the tangle of emotions for her brother’s aura. The quagmire of emotions were still too intense to sift through, and the beginnings of a headache throbbed behind her eyes.

  Lisella slowed. “We’re here.”

  “Ahh, Kymora…” Master Healer Candra’s husky voice came from in front of them. “Lisella found you.”

  Fabric rasped against fabric, then a pair of cool hands grasped hers. As soon as the elderly healer touched her, Kymora could feel her aura. It hummed with energy and vitality. Calmness also radiated from her. The Master Healer’s Gift stroked against her aura, a subtle warming sensation that soothed her and eased the headache.

  Kymora squeezed her hands in thanks. “What’s going on, Candra?”

  “Kalan was wounded while on patrol.”

  She swayed. Candra’s grip tightened on her. “How badly?”

  The older woman led her off to one side and helped her sit. By the softness under her and the way Candra’s wiry body pressed close to hers, they sat on the end of a cot.

  “A dagger in his side. Deep, but the blade missed all his innards, thank the Light.” The healer’s tone was concise but compassionate. “He’s lost a lot of blood, but Annika’s healing the wound now. Once it’s sealed and smeared with Vaa’jahn, he’ll begin to recover. He’ll be weak for a few days. He’ll spend the next couple of weeks in bed to make sure everything mends properly and he regains his strength.”

  “Kalan won’t like that.” Even to her, her voice sounded faint. “He’s never been one for bed rest.”

  Candra’s chuckle was rich and full. “True, but I’ll do my best to keep him there.”

  The resolve in her promise held reassurance. Much of the tension in Kymora eased. She sucked in a shuddering breath.

  “I’ve don
e as much as I can for now.” Kymora turned toward Annika’s voice. A wave of weariness mingled with relief and love brushed against Kymora’s mind. “He’ll sleep the night through. I’ll stay with him.”

  A collective sigh whispered around the room. Several people began talking at once.

  “Now that you know Kalan will be all right, I suggest all of you go and rest.” Candra’s order brooked no argument. “Bathe, eat, sleep. You can visit tomorrow, after breakfast. No sooner.”

  Kymora made to rise, but the healer’s arm tightened around her shoulders, holding her in place. Footsteps and voices moved away down the hall, someone retreating faster than the others. From Annika’s direction there came a wooden scraping sound, like she was dragging a stool across the floor.

  Air whispered past Kymora’s cheek, and the soft swish of skirts caressed her leg as Annika sat down on the other side of her. A smaller hand took hers. Annika’s skin was slightly damp as if she’d just washed her hands.

  “There’s something else you need to know, Kymora.” Candra’s tone shook and her aura flared. A slash of pain scored her mind. Kymora stiffened. “I’m sorry you felt that….” Her words grew thicker, more unsteady.

  “What’s wrong?” A prickle of unease wound its way along her spine. “Is there something you haven’t told me about Kalan?”

  “No, he’s fine,” Annika reassured her. The strength of her love for him came through clearly. “He’ll be well in time.”

  “Then what?”

  “One in the patrol didn’t make it back.” Beside her Candra inhaled a shuddering breath. “Arek’s gone, Kymora.”

  “Arek?” Heat followed by an icy coldness flushed through her body. “What do you mean… gone?”

  “The Na’Reish attacked Ostare and took the villagers. Kalan and the others pursued the Na’Hord patrol, intending to rescue them. It seems there were two patrols in the same area. They don’t know why.” Annika recounted the facts in a soft voice. “When Kalan was wounded, Arek ordered Varian to retreat with the others. He then stayed behind to provide a distraction to give them time to escape.”

  “He stayed behind?” Her question came out as a hoarse whisper. The pain welling in her chest left her gasping for breath. “He didn’t come back with them?”

  “No.”

  “He’s dead? Are you sure?”

  “Varian saw him fall.” Grief roughened Candra’s reply.

  Kymora swallowed against a tight throat. Light Blades captured by the Na’Reish suffered an agonizing death. They were seen as a food source, not slave material. Her eyes burned.

  Arek’s gone.

  The words echoed in her mind. They bounced around, chasing each another in an endless loop. Her nose tingled.

  Arek’s gone. Arek’s gone.

  Something warm trickled down one cheek. So many memories of the boy she’d grown up with… the man… the warrior. Kymora closed her eyes, unable to stop the memories once they began pouring through her. The loss of Arek, his loyalty, his passion, his charm, even his irreverent sense of humor, would strike deep. He’d been a friend to many.

  Her childhood friend… Kalan’s best friend… the man they both loved like a brother was…

  … dead.

  She shuddered and pressed a hand to her chest, between her breasts. Her heart ached. Heat scalded her cheeks again. The memories replayed faster.

  She didn’t want to remember. She didn’t want to feel.

  Someone was crying, sobbing, like their heart had been torn from their chest. Had one of the Light Blades remained behind?

  She should find them. Offer them comfort. A prayer to ease their pain.

  Her legs wouldn’t work. The strength had gone out of them.

  Why was it so hard to breathe?

  Arms wrapped tightly around her. “Ahh, Kymora. I’m so sorry.” Candra’s soft voice crooned in her ear.

  She lifted a hand to her cheeks. The moisture there belonged to tears. Hers. The keening came from her throat. The grief she felt was hers. Not another’s.

  All numbness fled. Anguish rolled over her like a wave, reaching so deep it swamped her soul. She rocked back and forth, sobbing until exhaustion stole her tears and her voice and then she grieved in silence.

  How long she remained lost like that she didn’t know, but eventually she became aware that she rested against the soft warmth of someone’s body, her head pressed against a shoulder. Wetness soaked the material beneath her cheek. She felt hot and prickly all over. Drained.

  “Does Kalan know?” Her voice grated, cracked.

  “He knows.” Annika’s soft reply provoked more tears.

  Her soul ached for him, for both of them.

  Candra hugged her. “You should rest but not here. Go home.”

  Returning to her apartment in the Temple dormitory turned Kymora’s stomach. Once there she’d be alone, confined by the silence and hollow emptiness of the rooms. Usually a haven, they felt more like a cell tonight. She shivered, the cold working its way into her.

  “Lisella, would you accompany her?”

  “Of course.”

  Kymora wiped her face on her sleeve. “The Council… the other Light Blades… someone needs to tell them about Kalan”—her voice wavered—“and Arek….” Her throat closed over for several heartbeats. “Davyn should be told. Arek is… was… his grandson. Someone—”

  “Let me worry about that, Kymora.” Candra’s no-nonsense tone relieved her of all responsibility. The sense of relief was profound. The healer’s voice gentled. “Go with Lisella.”

  “Come on, Kymora.” She allowed the Na’Chi woman to help her to her feet. “I know Kalan’s asleep, but would you like to say good night to him before we go?”

  Her brother’s skin was cool to the touch. His hand and fingers limp when she laced hers through his. Skimming her fingertips upward, over his shoulder, neck, and then head, she traced his brow, then trailed them over the side of his face. A day-old beard rasped against her skin.

  She pressed two fingers to the hollow just beneath his ear, felt the beat of his pulse, weak but steady. A little farther down his neck she encountered the chain of his amulet. Bowing her head, she prayed with her heart, unable to form the words in her mind.

  Taking a deep breath, she lifted her head. After smoothing out the blanket covering him, she rose. “I’m ready.”

  Lisella took her hand. Neither of them spoke as they left the hospice. Her Light Blade guards followed at a respectful distance. They were halfway to her apartment before Kymora realized she hadn’t asked after the others in Kalan’s unit.

  “Lisella, was anyone else hurt?”

  “No. Just a few bruises and scrapes.”

  Amidst all the voices, she didn’t recall hearing Varian’s. “Is Varian all right?” Lisella’s aura vibrated, her worry a dark stain that flared, then abruptly cut off. “He’s not, is he? I can feel your concern.”

  “Now’s not the time to worry about anyone else,” she said, gently. “Let’s take care of you. A night’s rest will help.”

  “I don’t need my apartment, Lisella.” Kymora stopped walking. Her throat closed over. Swallowing hard, she shook her head. “The silence will drive me mad. I’d much rather be around other people.”

  Lisella’s aura burred with confusion. “You don’t wish to grieve by yourself?”

  “Not at the moment.” Alone, the pain in her heart would be too much to face. Too raw. Too ugly.

  Kalan needed to heal. Annika remained with him there. Her relationships with her Servants were more professional than personal. Mother forgive her, but not even meditating or praying to the Lady was going to comfort her. Not tonight.

  Being with the Na’Chi, with Varian, would help her cope with the worst of it. There was no one else she felt more comfortable with.

  She took a steadying breath. “I’d like to return to the Na’Chi apartments with you.”

  For a long moment, Lisella said nothing, as if contemplating her request. “All right
. But first, there’s something you need to know about Varian. Something Taybor mentioned…”

  Chapter 24

  VARIAN stalked across the main room of his apartment, every step filled with the same restless, angry energy as the last hundred. He glared down at the rug beneath his feet. Perhaps he’d feel better if he could actually hear the satisfying thump of his boots on the hard floor.

  He shook his head. Who was he fooling? Battle-rage still rode him hours after the conflict. Nine hours. A first. Like a hearth full of embers, the sensation burned deep inside him, smoldering and hungry. Demanding he do something to feed the craving.

  Beyond the walls of his room, outside in the corridor, the muffled laughter of children and the slap of bare feet on stone darkened his already foul mood. Usually the sound of them playing games brought him peace, but tonight the noise only added to his aggravation.

  His fingers flexed. He could feel the sweat-slick skin of his last victim’s head on his palms. The vibrations of vertebrae grating together as he snapped the demon’s neck remained imprinted in his hands. The bitter stench of fear still lingered in his nostrils. Four Na’Reish demons lay dead in the clearing, thanks to him, and each fed into the darkness inside him.

  Not good enough. Not this time.

  A good warrior had fallen.

  Adrenaline surged through him again, fueling the hunger, nourishing the anger, changing them into something deeper, hotter, and gut-rippingly painful. Growling, he stalked back past the table in the center of the room. The candles in the candelabra flickered with the breeze of his passing. Light glinted off two flagons, a single cup, and the covered plate of a meal long since gone cold.

  Another pass. This time he scooped up the cup perched on the edge. He gripped the glazed side tightly and stared at the dark crimson liquid contained within. Mouth thinning, he drank what was left in it, savoring the rich iron tang of geefan blood as it slid down his throat. He picked up the flagon to refill the cup and found it empty.

  Varian eyed the depleted containers. Two were usually enough to sate his blood-hunger and lull the beast within an hour after consuming his fill. The physical hunger was gone, but the other still remained.