Not when so much rode on interpreting the Lady’s words correctly, and not when her final decision would impact so many in a time when they could least afford more unrest.
Who would replace her? Finding someone could take months. The Blade Council would be left without a spiritual advisor. And how would this affect the people? They needed the security and strength of strong spiritual leadership.
Kymora wrapped her arms around herself. With war with the Na’Reish looming, the rebels threatening civil war, the Chosen almost dying, resigning now would only add to the turmoil.
Lady’s Breath, how could she be responsible for doing that?
NODDING his thanks to the Light Blade holding open the door for him, Varian’s step slowed as he entered the Chosen’s apartment. The place appeared to be very similar to his: a main living area with an open archway and two wooden doors, a bathing room, and bedrooms. While his apartment remained spartanly furnished, there were more personal touches added here. A beautifully woven rug in shades of blue patterned with geometric circles lay on the floor while a variety of weapons and shields hung on the walls and several chests sat lined up beneath them.
The great fireplace to his left crackled and popped, and the scent of burning wood permeated the room. Annika crouched in front of it, stoking it with a poker. She smiled a greeting.
“Evening, Varian.” Kalan sat at a large table in the middle of the room looking a lot healthier than the last time he’d seen him in the hospice over a week ago. “Thank you for responding to my message so quickly.”
Master Healer Candra’s influence was evident though in what the human wore—boots, a loose pair of breeches, and an untucked long-sleeved shirt. No belt, no weapon.
“Welcome to our home. Not quite what you were expecting?”
Varian raised an eyebrow, unaware that he’d given away his thoughts.
“When I first arrived here, and after seeing how the Na’Reishi lived, I thought the leader of the humans would live in more luxurious surroundings,” Annika commented, dusting her hands on the sides of her dress. She pointed her chin in Kalan’s direction. “He used to live in the barracks with the Light Blades before we met and claims he never got around to fancying up the Chosen’s apartment.”
“If you want to see luxurious, secure a dinner invitation from Councilor Elamm,” Kalan said in a dry tone.
“Pass.” Annika snorted. “That one time was enough, thank you very much.” She motioned him to the table. “We were just about to sit down for a cup of tea. Will you join us?”
As Varian approached, Kalan rose slowly from his chair, one arm supporting his side, the other outstretched in greeting.
Varian wiped his hands on his breeches, grimacing at the dirt and dust staining his clothes before he took his arm. He’d been in the middle of training with Zaune when Kalan’s message had arrived. “How are you?”
“Better.” The warrior shared a look with Annika, a touch of amber fire in his emerald gaze, a grin curving his lips. “Thanks to my personal healer.”
Annika’s answering smile was gentle. Warm. Their gazes held a moment in an unspoken communication, a look that conveyed heat and something deeper.
Nearly six months ago, Varian had watched both of them make unconditional sacrifices to save the other. After being stabbed by Davyn, Annika nearly hadn’t been found in time. Kalan had shared his blood with her, despite believing he’d become her blood-slave, something he’d long abhorred, to save her life.
Given what humans thought of the blood-addiction they suffered when the Na’Reish took a slave, Kalan’s ready acceptance had caught Varian by surprise and earned the human a huge chunk of respect. Until he’d revealed that information to Kalan, the warrior hadn’t realized the addiction would be Annika’s, not his.
Then after the formation of the new Blade Council, Annika had walked out with the Na’Chi after realizing the humans weren’t ready for an alliance with them. She’d given up her future with Kalan, deciding it wasn’t fair to make him choose between her or his people.
Love. The emotion that empowered and sustained both of them. Witnessing it now, the connection sparked a touch of longing and envy in Varian. He glanced away, feeling like he was intruding on a private moment.
“You two talk. I’ll pour the tea.” Annika reached for the pot resting on the tray in the center of the table.
“I’m sorry I haven’t had the chance to speak to you before now,” Kalan began. He closed the book in front of him, then pushed it out of the way. Lines of tension creased the edges of his gaze. “I appreciate your patience, considering the circumstances.”
Varian nodded his thanks as Annika pushed a steaming cup toward him. “The Master Healer made it very clear that we were to give you time to heal.”
Kalan chuckled. “One of Annika’s guards mentioned the threat of a pox infection.”
“It was hard to tell if she was joking or not. Vaa’jahn masks her scent well.” Varian sipped his tea, then set the cup down. “Besides, there’s been plenty to keep me busy this week.”
As much as Varian enjoyed the company of the human leader and Annika, Kalan didn’t seem to be in any hurry to address the reason for inviting him here. And he wanted some answers they’d both been putting off addressing since his appointment.
“So, why have I been invited here, Chosen?” he asked, gaze direct. “Do you require a progress report on our patrols or are you going to tell me why you chose me as your Second?”
The warrior’s eyebrows lifted high. “I’d forgotten how candid you could be.” He shook his head. “The reasons I gave at the hospice stand, Varian.” His lips thinned and his brow furrowed. “Not being able to trust my own people burns in my gut like acid. I just thank the Lady you accepted the position that day I put you on the spot.”
The stark honesty in his voice was sobering. Varian decided to return the favor.
“You risked the future of your people.” He couldn’t keep the bite of anger out of his voice. “I very nearly decided you were manipulating me, and I don’t take that from anyone.”
Kalan inclined his head. “I gambled you’d see past your shock.”
“Your choice proved unpopular with some.”
For a long moment, the warrior was silent, his gaze thoughtful. “You’re including yourself in that assessment.”
He almost flinched at Kalan’s accurate insight. A deep breath later, he met his gaze. “My carelessness lost you your best friend, Chosen.”
There was no point honeycoating the truth or avoiding it. Grief darkened the depths of Kalan’s gaze as it pulled the skin over his cheeks taut.
“How were you careless?”
Varian ground his teeth together. “I should have scouted farther beyond the perimeter of the clearing.”
“How far did you go out?”
“A three-minute walk in all directions.”
“That’s twice what our scouts are trained to do.”
Where was the anger or reprimand he’d been expecting with that admission? The human’s scent remained neutral, unsoured by a lie.
“No one can anticipate all the risks, Varian. You deal with the situation as it’s presented to you. You did. That second Na’Hord patrol acted out of character. We’ve never had two infiltrate our borders so close together. It’s a new tactic. One we’ll anticipate from now on.”
“We needed to succeed that day. The mission failed.”
“We might not have achieved our original goals, but seven villagers were rescued that day.” Kalan’s expression grew grim. He grunted. “Do you know how many people we’ve saved in the past once we’ve learned about a raid? None. Involving the Na’Chi in that mission was a positive move, regardless of the loss we suffered.”
Varian stared into the tannin-colored depths of his tea. Kalan’s responses were nothing like he’d imagined.
“Lady knows I’ve made my fair share of mistakes as a leader that I wished I hadn’t.” Looking up, he discovered a hard glint
in the warrior’s gaze. “You can’t make perfect choices, Na’Chi. Learn from your mistakes, adapt, and move on.”
The verbal slap upside the head caught him by surprise but also reminded him the Chosen could be just as forward as he was when he needed to be. Kalan’s understanding and acceptance took the edge off his guilt.
He ran a finger around the edge of his tea cup. “Do you regret our alliance?”
“No.” The adamant reply eased more of his anxiety. “I’m only more determined to see this work.”
“Many here in the city are removed from what’s happening on the border, but with the influx of refugees, the effects are just starting to be realized.” Annika refilled their cups with fresh tea. “Lady willing, it won’t be long before everyone understands the importance of this alliance.”
Although he didn’t voice it aloud, the question remained: Would they realize it in time?
“Kalan has many of the Councilors organizing the efforts to resettle or house the refugees.” Annika placed her arms on the table and leaned forward, her violet gaze somber. “If the Na’Reish continue their raids or begin full-scale attacks, winter will be hard for many this year.”
Varian drained his cup. “You’re keeping the Council involved but also aware.”
“If they see the effects, they can’t ignore them.” Kalan’s every word held a hard edge. “Unlike the past, I won’t let apathy or lack of empathy dictate this Council’s actions. And as I said to you back in your village, we no longer have the time to let this alliance evolve naturally. We’re going to have to forge it through battle, against the Na’Reish.”
His respect for Kalan’s strategy lifted another notch as he settled back in his chair. “Forge is a good word for it.”
More than a little heat had been applied on the training field this week by Yevni to make the mixed patrols work together. On the older warrior’s advice, he’d taken patrol after patrol out to test their cohesiveness and to solidify the bonds of familiarity and teamwork. While not every run brought them up against a Na’Hord patrol, he had seen some improvement in the way the warriors, human and Na’Chi, interacted.
“I believe we’re beginning to accomplish something.” The man offered a smile at his puzzled expression. “You’d be surprised what I overheard in conversations during the time I spent in the hospice. There were quite a few patients or people who visited the hospice who mentioned that they felt safer knowing that the frequency of patrols had been increased.”
“The Guilders are appreciative of the extra help from the Na’Chi who have volunteered to work alongside them, especially now with the extra workload of supplying basic supplies to the refugees.” Annika’s warm smile brimmed with enthusiasm. “And Lisella’s excursions with the children into the city are also attracting attention. The perception is that Na’Chi children aren’t as threatening.”
Varian cocked a brow at that statement. “Those children can incapacitate a full-grown human if they wanted to.”
Kalan shrugged, then grinned. “What they don’t know…”
Annika rolled her eyes. “This will work, Varian. Have faith.”
He grunted but made no comment. “Small steps, Varian.” Lisella’s words. How many times had he heard her utter them to other Na’Chi since they’d come to live in the city again? She had more patience and vision than all of them combined.
“So, fill me in on how the patrols are going.” Kalan rubbed his hands together. The change in subject was a welcome one. “I haven’t had a chance to catch up with Yevni or any of the other Commanders yet, but I’ve noticed you’ve had patrols coming and going from the border this past week. Not knowing how things are progressing is driving me insane.”
“Kalan…” Annika’s soft reprimand was accompanied by a resigned shake of her head. “Candra will have your head if she hears you’ve been talking work.”
“Who says she’s going to find out?” he asked, a mischievous glint in his eye. “None of us are going to risk the pox by telling her, are we?”
Chapter 30
KYMORA bid farewell to the last visitor to the Temple with a soft sigh of relief. The sound of voices retreating down the steps and along the walkway between the Memorial and Temple Gardens was replaced by the distant hubbub of activity inside the Light Blade compound.
In the last week or so, all of the Servants had reported an increase in the number of people attending the services. As much as she enjoyed conducting prayer rituals, the personal petitions left her exhausted. They relied upon the judicious use of her Gift, and often the emotional stress in the minds of those who approached her made identifying their needs difficult. It was delicate work.
Kymora turned her face up to the sun and let the midafternoon warmth soak into her. In another month or so, standing outside, feeling the heat rising from the flagstones through the soles of her boots, wouldn’t be possible. The winds from the mountains would descend and howl across the lake, pushing the chill from the first snows into the city.
“Are you communing or sun basking?”
Lisella’s question brought a smile to Kymora’s face. She turned toward the soft clunk of boots on hard stone.
“Sun basking,” she replied. “I didn’t realize you were waiting there. I’m sorry.”
“You look tired.” A lock of Lisella’s hair brushed against Kymora’s cheek as she enclosed her in a brief hug. “I sat in on your last service.”
The strong odor of lanolin lingered in the soft fabric of her dress. The Na’Chi woman must have been helping the weavers at the Guild-hall, perhaps carding or spinning bleater wool, prior to attending the service.
“I don’t know how you handle so many requests,” Lisella commented. “Do you always use your Gift during services?”
“Only if the petitioner gives their permission. Many in that last service were refugees from near Whitewater Crossing. A Na’Reish attack destroyed their village. They were seeking peace from the devastation of losing everything.”
“I’m guessing you’ll be seeing a lot more of that in the coming months.” The Na’Chi woman’s voice held a hint of sadness. “The numbers of refugees are growing by the day.”
Kymora squeezed her hands. “Rissa tells me you offered to take in the children left homeless by the attacks.”
“The orphanage in the city can’t accommodate any more. They’re sleeping two in each bed now. Besides, we have the room.” Lisella chuckled. “Tovie and the other young ones think it’s great. More friends to play with.”
“How are the Na’Chi doing? Annika tells me those working with the Guilds are settling in well.”
“I’m glad you asked. It’s part of the reason why I’ve come to see you.”
Kymora gestured to their right. “Shall we walk in the gardens?”
Lisella tucked her hand in the crook of her arm, and Kymora followed her lead as they headed down the steps. The heavy, sweet scent of Keri-blossoms carried on the faint breeze, growing stronger the closer they drew to the gardens.
“Almost all of the Na’Chi are involved in some sort of interaction within the Light Blade compound or out in the city,” Lisella said. “Those working with the Guilds are finding it rewarding. The chance to learn new skills is keeping them occupied.”
Kymora cocked her head at the somber inflection in her tone. “But?”
“The hardest to encourage are the scouts. They’re spending a lot of hours training and out on patrol. Necessity dictates their schedule, but it’s placed them under a lot of pressure.”
Lisella drew her to a halt, her aura pulsing, prickling with concern. Cool air brushed against Kymora’s cheeks and the intensity of the sun lessened, as if they stopped beneath a tree. Leaves rustled overhead as the breeze intensified, confirming her suspicions.
“Battle rush is something all of them deal with,” the Na’Chi woman continued. “When we lived in Na’Reish territory, they dealt with every threat with deadly force. When they came back, they were all affected but able to de
al with it. Each of them had their own circle of friends and those they’d mix with. Here the dynamics are a lot more complicated.”
“There’s also prejudice to deal with,” Kymora added, quietly. “Outside your group, but also within it.”
Lisella’s sigh was heavy. “Yes. There’s always been an element of fear in those who weren’t scouts, but because the battle rush subsided much more quickly, it wasn’t so bad. Here, and with all the other stresses of adapting, both situations are more pronounced.”
“Varian’s affected, but who else have you noticed?”
“Taybor, Zaune, and to a lesser extent, Yari.” She was silent a moment. “It’s the ones who don’t socialize as much who seem to be suffering greater problems. It takes them more time to come down from their battle high.”
“Have you never had a scout not recover? Do you know what happens if they don’t?”
“No.”
Kymora’s gaze narrowed at the slight waver in her reply. “But you suspect something?”
Beneath her hand, every muscle in Lisella’s arm tensed. “When the Na’Reish fight, they reach a similar battle high. It usually ends once they feed. That’s why we always make sure there’s plenty of sustenance around when the scouts return. But Hesia used to talk about how some Na’Reish warriors would go berserk from their highs. They’d kill everyone in sight.”
An icy shiver worked its way along Kymora’s spine. “And you think the same will happen with the scouts.”
“We’re all half Na’Reish, Kymora.” Lisella no longer hid her anxiety. “We share so many traits. The scouts push themselves much more than most of us, so the risk is higher for them. And now, with them out on patrol so often and having to deal with other stresses, the effects are driving them to their limits.”
“Do the other Na’Chi know all this?”
“Some.”
“Everyone needs to be informed, Lisella.” Kymora placed her hand on top of the younger woman’s and squeezed. “If you care for these scouts and don’t want to run the risk of losing them, then you’re all going to have to work together to save them. Work out ways to keep them involved and socializing, even if it’s just among yourselves.”
Alliance Forged Page 26
