Alliance Forged

by Kylie Griffin

  Varian locked gazes with his. “Kymora?”

  “The rebels want to exchange her for Davyn.”

  “They have her?” The thought of her in their hands… He shied away from the dark images hovering at the back of his mind. He didn’t dare let them surface. A shudder tore through him. “Where?”

  “I don’t know. That’s why I’ve come to you. I need your skills in tracking and you know her scent better than anyone.” The warrior’s gaze never flickered, but the knowledge of his and Kymora’s relationship was there. “We need to find her fast. They’ve given us until midday to free Davyn and open the city gates.”

  The threat to Kymora piggybacked on his words.

  A shiver grated along Varian’s spine. “That’s only a few hours from now.”

  His gaze dropped to the amulet in his fist as emotions and memories poured through him, the most recent ones of their argument. They hurt. They ached and burned so fiercely he wasn’t sure he could bear it. The metal edge bit into the skin of his palm.

  “Who else knows about the letter?” Gravel grated in his voice.

  “Just the Temple acolytes who found the bodies, the watch on duty in the compound who was alerted by them, me, and you. I haven’t announced this to the Council yet. I can’t.” Kalan’s lips pressed into a hard, thin line. “It would mean civil war.”

  Varian let out a ragged breath and glanced down at the disc in his fingers.

  Kalan’s indrawn breath was harsh. “That’s Kymora’s amulet.”

  “She left it here this morning.” He could feel the warrior’s stare. “We… argued.” The admission twisted his gut.

  “About what?”

  Varian averted his gaze. “Us. The future. She told me she loved me.” A derogatory sound welled deep in his throat as a cold empty void yawned inside him. “And I shut her down. Told her there was no us. No future.”

  “Why?”

  “Everyone I’ve ever loved has been hurt.” It hurt to breathe. “I didn’t want the same happening to her. I thought by doing what I did, it would keep her safe.” The coldness inside him grew. “I failed.”

  He stared at the swirling grain pattern on the top of the table, waiting for Kalan’s anger, expecting retribution for his failure, prepared to accept it.

  “No.” The grip on his arm firmed. “You made a mistake. That’s human.” Varian looked up. A wry smile curved Kalan’s lips, but then his expression grew serious. “Do you love Kymora?”

  He frowned. Opened his mouth. The words stuck in his throat. He forced them out. “More than my own life, Chosen.”

  And that was the Lady-sworn truth. Declaring his love for Kymora left him feeling exposed, like a lira out on the plains, but there was no denying the rush of peace he felt after saying it. It was like she held him in her arms. He could almost feel the palm of her hand pressed against the center of his chest.

  “Did she tell you why she left the amulet?”

  Varian shook his head. “I found it a moment before you walked in.”

  “The tie is broken.” Kalan ran a finger along the frayed ends of the thong. “Anyone who wishes to end their service with the Lady—Light Blade or Servant—has only to break the chain of their amulet. It doesn’t mean they’ve put aside their faith, just whatever position they hold.”

  Varian’s jaw loosened, his lips parted in shock. “Kymora’s resigned as Temple Elect?”

  “She told me yesterday. She asked me to say nothing until she’d spoken to you.”

  “Why would she break her service? The Temple is her life!”

  “Kymora follows the Lady’s will.” A gentle smile curved the warrior’s mouth. “She walks the path of her Fourth Journey. Her path is now with you. With the Na’Chi.”

  Kymora had chosen him over her role as Temple Elect? Why hadn’t she said something to him this morning? But he knew why, and wished he could relive that time over again.

  “Blessed Mother, I’ve done this all so wrong,” he groaned.

  “Then let’s go make it right, my friend.” Kalan squeezed his forearm. “Gather your scouts and let’s begin the hunt.”

  Varian nodded, and as he rose, he tied the broken amulet around his neck. For safekeeping and to feel Kymora close to his heart. He was going to need her strength, because he couldn’t find her alone. He was going to need the senses and skills of his darker half. As much as that scared him, he was going to have to gamble everything—his life, his heart, his soul—to succeed.

  And Kymora’s love and a future with her were worth that risk.

  KYMORA counted, for time didn’t exist. Whoever had kidnapped her was gone. Wherever they’d taken her, they’d abandoned her there. Whatever she lay in left her no room to move in any direction. She’d tried. Escape wasn’t possible. The rope, the canvas, whatever she was locked in, it kept her immobile.

  Helpless.

  No movement.

  No sound.

  No auras.

  Almost no sensation.

  Someone had made a hole in whatever covered her head, near her nose, big enough to let blessed, fresh air in, but that was it.

  All that remained in her world was nothingness. And terror, with its chilly fingers wrapped around her throat.

  What had happened to Ehrinne and Nendal? Had the warriors survived? Her kidnappers had to be rebels, but what did they want? Had anyone noticed she was missing yet?

  Her heart raced.

  What if they never found her?

  Mother of Light, please hear my plea and deliver me from fear and despair.

  Her simple prayer became a mantra. She fought to stave off the panic that threatened to shut her in ice. Succumbing would leave her trapped in her mind.

  Or she would give in to her tears. She couldn’t cry.

  Madness or death.

  Kymora shuddered. She’d come so close to both during the fever-induced darkness brought on by Claret-rash.

  She’d survived that.

  She would endure this.

  Mother of Light, please hear my plea and deliver me from fear and despair.

  Chapter 38

  “THE blood-scent ends here, Varian.” Zaune crouched at the cross section of two streets, one hand framing a ruby-colored stain on the cobblestoned roadway. He tilted his head into the slight breeze, nostrils flaring, then shook his head. “All I can smell is human waste and rotten garbage.”

  Varian wrinkled his nose, agreeing with the young scout. The stench was almost overpowering; he could taste the foulness of it at the back of his throat. The renegade Light Blade they were tracking bled arterial blood, the scent of it fresh and strong. He was surprised the warrior had made it this far.

  Perhaps death had already claimed the warrior, and his companions had taken him with them to keep his identity a secret. Dark satisfaction coursed through his veins. One less rebel would suit him just fine.

  “Where do these roads lead, Chosen?” he asked.

  Kalan peered down each, his brows dipping into a frown. “The one headed west goes back to Bartertown. That one with the burnt-out dwellings curves southeast but ends up taking you to the Guild storage factories. Ahead leads straight to Waterside Dock.”

  Varian exchanged a look with Zaune. They’d lost the trail of Lisella’s attackers near Waterside Dock. The similarity of circumstances couldn’t be just coincidence, could it? Pivoting, his gaze strafed the ramshackle buildings.

  Most were poorly constructed and only a handful were taller than a single story. Very few were made entirely of the same material, and all of them were joined together so that they formed one long row of connected houses.

  They were like the homes constructed by the human slaves within the Na’Reish fortress. Some had small overhanging roofs. The odd bench or chair congregated like bleaters beneath them. All empty of people but that didn’t mean they weren’t at home. Faces peaked out dirty windows, but no one came out onto the street to greet them.

  Kalan drew level with him. “Coppertown has the larg
est population of all the sectors in Sacred Lake.” He pointed with his chin to a tunnel-like corridor twisting its way into darkness beneath a section of dilapidated two-story buildings. “With so many alleyways and snickleways, this place is like a digger-warren. Easy to get lost in, and even easier to hide within.”

  Movement caught the corner of Varian’s gaze. A young boy with a shock of blond hair, a few years older than Tovie, sidled around the edge of the darkened snickleway. His pale eyes surveyed them all with a wariness well beyond his years. He scrubbed a dirty foot against the damaged wall, then leaned against it, his posture deceptively lazy.

  “Would those living here aid Light Blades?” Zaune inquired, tone low. “They weren’t particularly helpful this morning during the search.”

  “If you paid them enough, they’d do almost anything,” Kalan replied, dryly. “Unfortunately, those who live here are either the very poor, the destitute, or are lawbreakers and the chit holds sway over their conscience, not empathy.” He grimaced. “But when you’re hungry, you’ll do anything to survive, even if it means sacrificing your morals.”

  His softly spoken statement rang true with all of them. Clouds chose that moment to cross the path of the sun. The resulting dimness and cooler conditions sent a shiver skipping down Varian’s spine. It could take them days to search every inch of this place. Kymora didn’t have that sort of time.

  “What now?” Jinnae asked, her thin face drawn tight.

  “Kalan.” Varian nodded to the man’s left, toward the boy observing them.

  The Light Blade swiveled but made no move to go toward the boy. “Seen anything interesting around here this morning?” he asked.

  The corners of the boy’s mouth twitched. “Lotsa interestin’ things. Me mam chasin’ me brother with his britches… took her half the mornin’ to catch ’im.” He shrugged a thin shoulder and came to the edge of the porch. “He don’t like wearin’ ’em.”

  His scent carried to Varian on the breeze. Beneath the unwashed odor of dirt and sweat, he detected the sharp scent of interest.

  Kalan’s eyes crinkled. “How old is your brother?”

  “Three.”

  “My mother had the same problem with me.” He took a step forward. “What’s your name?”

  The boy straightened. “Ryn.”

  “I’ve two chits you can earn, Ryn.”

  “What for?”

  “Have you seen any Light Blades anywhere near here this morning? Anyone with a woman who was blind?”

  “Light Blades. Nah. Didn’t see none. No blind woman, either.” The youngster’s mouth pulled to one side. “Saw almost a dozen people, fancy dressed like you though.”

  Kalan flipped him one chit. “Where?”

  Ryn caught it, then pointed down the road headed to the docks. “The alley by the portico.” Two more chits tumbled through the air. His face lit up in surprise as he caught them.

  Kalan gave a nod. “Let’s go.”

  “Hey!” Ryn took a step off the porch. “That group I seen? One of ’em was carrying a bag over ’is shoulder. It were the size of a woman….”

  Barely three people wide, the alley’s cobblestones were coated with all sorts of filth that squished underfoot. A gutter ran along one side and putrid slimy water gurgled into a busted drain farther along. Varian took the lead, trying to filter through the countless odors assaulting his nostrils. Some of them were stale and weeks old. As they passed a shadowed doorway, a dank draft wafted out.

  “Varian!” Zaune’s hiss came at the same time he scented fresh blood. He backtracked to the door. The younger scout’s gaze glowed crimson. “The renegade was carried in here.”

  A quick scan of the building showed the doorway to be the only entrance. He pressed his ear up against it. Very faint scuffling sounds came from within. Humans or rodents?

  “Taybor, Jinnae, you stay with the Chosen. Do not leave his side,” he ordered, voice low. He glanced to Kalan. “There will be no guarantees. If they threaten you or one of us, we’ll take them out.”

  The warrior’s emerald gaze gleamed in the ambient light. “Do what you have to.”

  Varian closed his eyes and drew in a deep breath, then turned his thoughts inward, toward the darkness in his soul. The beast was there, lurking, the anger and fury contained but seething, waiting for the chance to rise, rend, and take revenge.

  He released the leash. It surged; violent emotions crashed through him, racked his body, all reacting to the knowledge that Kymora’s life was in danger. A scream of rage echoed in his mind. With every rapid beat of his heart, adrenaline pumped through his body, his skin began to heat, his senses intensified.

  The faintest, familiar fragrance of honeyed spice lingered in the air. Every hair on his neck rose.

  “She’s here.” Gravelly and rough, his voice still quavered with excitement.

  Varian opened his eyes; this time he welcomed the crimson- and red-edged hues in the objects around him. A single thought, the image of Kymora as he’d last seen her, filled his mind. Within half a heartbeat, the chaos inside him changed; the energy morphed from a need for vengeance to the desire to protect what was his. For the first time, he and his darker half were in agreement.

  Zaune’s hand grasped his shoulder. His mouth curled into a grim smile. “Let’s hunt.”

  Chapter 39

  THE barest flutter of sensation, a vibration, brushed against Kymora’s mind. She cried out, quivering as she held her breath, praying the sensation hadn’t been a figment of her imagination, but as her pulse settled into a steady rhythm again, tears prickled behind her eyes.

  She was going mad. Shewasgoingmad. Shewasgoingmad.…

  She sucked in air through her nose. Rapid, short, sharp breaths. Slow down. Breathe in, hold, breathe out. Her inhalations lengthened, became more deliberate. Cool air filled her lungs.

  Control each breath. Control your thoughts. Control your body.

  Exhaustion hovered at the edge of her mind, but to give in and sleep carried the risk of missing someone nearby.

  Kymora focused again and continued whispering one of her favorite scriptures against the gag in her mouth. “We all look to you, Mother of Wisdom and Mercy, You are the provider of all things good, You give us Light and deliver us from Darkness, You are our Strength—”

  A spike of terror stabbed at her mind. She froze. There was no way that had been her imagination. It had depth and intensity. She counted her breaths, waiting. Who was out there? How close were they?

  Another harsh gouge punctured her shield. More bombarded her, deluging her Gift like a glass of water drunk too fast. She flinched but soaked in the fierce sensations, glorying in the agonizing touch of reality after enduring its absence. The ensemble of impressions lacked harmony. She couldn’t sort through them to figure who might be out there.

  She didn’t care. She screamed, hoping whoever it was could hear her. And she kept screaming, determined to last as long as the sensations kept coming, too frightened to stop and return to the darkness in her mind.

  THE building proved to be one where several houses joined together in a bizarre melding of workmanship. The first three rooms were each a house with a door cut into its back wall. That door led to another house.

  Pausing by the fourth one, Varian tested the air for Kymora’s scent. It was getting stronger and it mingled with other odors. Cooking food, people, blood. The murmur of voices also came from the other side of the thick wooden door.

  With a throat-shredding roar, he shouldered his way through it. One swift glance showed him nearly a dozen men and women scattered around the room, some seated in front of a small fireplace, others at a table pushed into a corner, some lying on pallets on the floor.

  The closest humans to the door clambered to their feet, reaching for their weapons. Shouts, the scraping of metal from leather sheaths, and Na’Chi war cries filled the air. Behind him the other scouts launched into the fray.

  The darkness inside him exulted in the heat and rush of
the fierce fighting. His first opponent, he knocked out cold with one powerful back sweep of his fist. The second he hauled from her feet and sent her crashing against the wall. When she hit the floor, she never moved. The next warrior came at him with a dagger drawn.

  A silent snarl shaped the man’s mouth, his broad face flushed with hatred. Varian blocked his first thrust and caught the other arm in a forearm clinch. He twisted. The man howled. Bone snapped. The renegade dropped to his knees. Varian locked both hands around his other arm and twisted again. Bone cracked. He shoved the man away from him, sent him sprawling onto his back.

  Honey and spice, thick and rich, coated his senses. He could taste it on his tongue as he sucked it into his lungs. Left, right. Stronger to the right. Beyond the chaos of bodies locked in combat, there stood another door. Frustration clawed his gut. The place was worse than a digger-burrow.

  Avoiding the struggling combatants left on their feet, he strode for the doorway. It gave under his shove. Thick with shadows, the room reeked of blood and death. A dark figure lay in one corner. Heart pumping, Varian rushed to it, but as he rolled it toward him, he knew it wasn’t Kymora.

  Kalan appeared in the doorway, flanked by Taybor and Jinnae. “Is it…?”

  “No,” he grated out. “His scent belongs to the Light Blade we’ve been tracking. He’s dead.” Unsurprising. Satisfying. He shot a savage grin toward the human leader. “One less rebel to worry about, Chosen.”

  “Then where is she?” Tension threaded every word.

  Zaune shoved his way into the room, blood streaming down his face from a split across his brow. “Six dead, four down. All rebels accounted for,” he panted. “Yari’s injured but all right. Everyone else is fine. Surprise certainly helped us.”

  Varian nodded, swiveling on his knee in the dust as he scanned the floor. “What’s that?” A small square section of floorboards lay at a right angle to the rest. He unsheathed his dagger and pried at the niche. The wood creaked but lifted to reveal a hole. Cool air brushed against his hands. Someone passed him a lantern from the other room.

  Kalan joined him, kneeling on the other side of the hole. “Looks like a catacomb.” He grunted. “They’re used to bury the dead. See the holes in the walls?”