“Move on,” I said, firmly, hardening my voice to quell its tremors. “A drink at the river, then we find the princess.”
Kicking my horse into a fast canter, Dra’agor loping at his flank, I didn’t stop until his hooves splashed river water high. Swinging down from his saddle, I knelt on the muddy bank and tossed handfuls of cold mountain water over my face and head.
I didn’t care how cold it was. I drank and splashed, soaking my hair and the neck of my tunic, drinking until the sour taste of my sins washed away. Bayonne slurped the icy river as fast as Dra’agor lapped it up. As my lads filled their bellies and their horses drank greedily, I half-wondered if the thirst I sent into the Atani and their mounts the previous day lingered on. My demon might snack on our corpses before we knew he was there so focused we were on the sweet water flowing down our throats.
Sated, I stood up, and led my horse from the bank. Bayonne munched his bit, excess water streaming from his lips. Dra’agor lifted his muzzle and gazed dreamily across the river, his tongue washing his muzzle. He followed on my heels, as though answering my silent summons. I hadn’t given one, though, but instead dragged the amber jewel from beneath my tunic.
Buck-Eye, mounted, urged his grey up the bank to stand behind me as Boden and Lyall swung into their saddles. “Where do we go, m’lord?” Boden asked.
The late arrival, Torass leaped from his horse to fall, as I did, to his knees in the mud to drink, and wash his face and hands. His horse sucked greedily, his huge feet planted in the swift running water, and his white-ringed eyes on the new member of my group.
“Where are you, Princess Yummy?” I asked, my tone playful.
I willed the jewel show me my bride.
High above the misty fogbank, she sat on a large rock outside a small cave, braiding her hair. The bright sunlight gleamed off her brilliant silver tresses, casting light back into my eyes. I caught my breath on her simple, yet unconquered beauty. Her enormous blue eyes cast thoughtfully down as her fingers plaited. Pale, alabaster skin, pure and unblemished and unmarred from any flaw. Her heart-shaped face with its dainty chin, and those pale pink lips pursed in concentration.
My eyes roved lower. Over her ripe breasts under the tight tunic and vest, its leather laces open at her throat. I pictured my hands roaming over them, teasing them, making her gasp with pleasure. My hands stroked downward, over her trim waist and flat belly, to cup her rounded ass. That ass fit nicely in my palm, oh indeed yes. Those long legs clad in –
Her head rose sharply. Her blue-in-blue eyes narrowed dangerously as her face swung toward me. I sucked in my breath, my heart slamming against my ribs. She couldn’t possibly know I was here, watching her, fantasizing about –
She knew indeed. As though she saw me, leagues upon leagues away, my fingers clasping the jewel, watching her in the sky over the mountain tops. Iyumi’s lips thinned in anger and disgust.
Where’s Van? I didn’t ask to see him, was he dead, why didn’t the jewel show him to me? Was she alone?
No. He strode into camp, in his own body, his left arm wrapped in a stained white bandage. His belt knife dripped dark blood, his handsome face light and humorous as he asked Iyumi a question. I couldn’t hear it, of course, but I knew what it was, just the same. “What’s wrong?”
His face tightened as Iyumi snapped an answer and stood. His eyes followed hers, idly flipping his knife in his fingers. Side by side, they stared straight into mine, as though in derisive challenge. Iyumi’s right hand lifted. Straight from her shoulder it rose. Her snapping anger lifted her upper lip in a sneer, as her fingers made the sign.
“M’lord?” Buck-Eye’s astounded voice rose from behind me. “Did she just flip you –”
“She did,” Lyall said, his tone furious. “That bitch.”
“Indeed,” I said, both amused and astounded that she even knew what that sign vulgar and obscene gesture meant. And she a royal princess.
CHAPTER 11
Unfinished Business
I galloped headlong into the darkness and driving rain. Up, ever upward into the stony Shin’Eah Mountains, my hooves sliding across treacherous moss-covered rocks, dodging twisted tree limbs that reached with stiff fingers to snag my face. Icy wet sluiced across my bare chest and shoulders, my hair in my eyes. Her teeth chattering against the cold, Iyumi huddled against my back, her chilled hands tight about my waist. I hadn’t the will power to help, but her limited magic enabled her to spin a cloak from the air and wrap it tightly about her small frame.
Between the cloak and my body’s heat, Iyumi managed well enough. The cloak kept her reasonably dry, and my taller frame sheltered her from the worst of the rain. I felt no cold. My panting breath steamed hard into the night, but I recognized no hardship. My busted left arm and cracked ribs spoke no voice. My body felt numb to outside influences. All I knew on that dark night was grief.
Everyone I knew, and loved, was gone. Malik. My brother, my friend. Never again will the world see his like. Sky Dancer. A lady I might have loved, if given the chance. Wind Warrior. A friend I’d only just begun to appreciate. Aderyn. My cousin, we shared not just our blood but laughter and love and dances. Moon Whisperer. Silent, yet steadfast, he kept his own council and still stood by me.
My mind shied away from any and all thought of Kiera, and I focused instead on those who I respected, even if they weren’t exactly friends. They were my brothers and sisters, and I loved them for what they stood for: our beloved King Roidan and our Bryn’Cairdha. Padraig. Dour and angry, yet loyal and brave unto the last. Grey Mist. His dislike for me mattered not, he loved our King and that was enough. Edara, so young and full of life. Kasi. Filled with the fighting spirit that we embraced as Weksan’Atan. Valcan. Smart, talented, he kept his loyalty despite his doubts, and remained a true Atan.
Edryd, Alain, Dusan – all dead before they had a chance to live. I wish Edryd had realized, before the end, I didn’t kill his father. Gaear. Hmmm, well, his was the only loss I didn’t truly regret. My heart, in its guilt, tried to mourn his death. He was an Atan, a brother, and a Clansman. No Atan should die like that. Not even Gaear the Inept. I hoped he died well, with courage in his fists.
As my darkest night, and my pain, wore on, my heart’s ache yearned for three alone: Malik, Sky Dancer and Kiera. I couldn’t shake their faces, their light, nor their love. My heart still beat within my chest, but it bled, shattered and broken. My breath caught, snagged in my lungs until I thought they’d burst. I couldn’t see. I stumbled over hidden rocks, blinded by rain, tears and my hair, tripping, stumbling, only to gallop on, my hooves catching on fallen logs, twisted limbs. Ever up, higher and higher, away from the grief and misery. Fleeing from the ghosts of my beloved dead.
“Van!”
I barely heard her voice over the lonely laments deep within my soul. Malik’s last words echoed within hollow chambers, booming and fading, only to boom again – ‘Save us all’. His deep voice resonated in my heart. ‘It’s up to you now, my brother,’
“Malik!”
‘You can’t win this fight,’ he said sadly. ‘Don’t watch me die’.
I groaned aloud, my voice hoarse, as broken as my soul. “Malik, gods, Malik, don’t leave me, please. Malik!”
‘Save us all, brother mine.’
“Van!”
I heard her then. Malik’s voice murmured on the night wind, drifting apart, vanishing like the spirit it was. The nearly full moon shown down through the broken clouds. I hadn’t noticed the rain had stopped, leaving a light, misty drizzle behind. The cold had deepened, however, and Iyumi shivered violently on my back. Her hand gripped my arm, dripping with wet and almost blue with chill.
“Van, we have to stop.”
I halted near the crest of a steep hill, my hooves sliding backwards slightly under the thick, viscous mud. I found my balance with an effort and drew in one ragged breath after another. After a quick swipe, my eyes cleared of wet and my hair, yet the voices of my dead echoed in my ears. Perhaps forev
er.
I turned my head over my shoulder to meet her chill-induced teary but beautiful blue eyes. “Hey,” I murmured. “You look like hell.”
Her teeth gleamed under a quick, shivery grin. “You look like death warmed over.”
“That sums me up in a nutshell.”
“We both need food and rest,” she said, her hand, kind, rubbing up and down my bicep. “Come, I’ll tend your injuries.”
The numbing cold and icy rain stilled the screams of my broken arm and cracked ribs. The bites and cuts from Flynn’s devils woke with strident voices. I shoved the rising pain away from the forefront of my thoughts, and shoved them to the back, where they belonged. “I’m fine, really. Don’t concern yourself.”
I started walking up the hill again when her angry voice halted me, astounded. She called me a very vile name, her tone harsh. “Don’t you dare dismiss me, First Captain Vanyar. I won’t have it.”
I halted, and glanced in confusion over my shoulder again, meeting her hot, royal gaze.
I tsked. “Where does a sheltered princess learn such language?” I asked, half in laughter, half in shock. Only the army’s common barracks used words so foul.
“It doesn’t matter,” Iyumi replied, her tone haughty and cold. “There’s a cave just yonder. We can shelter there until daylight. Treat me like a servant again and I’ll have your guts for garters.”
“Your wish is my command,” I replied, breaking into a heavy trot, uphill. “Your Highness.”
“And don’t you forget it, Captain,” she snapped.
Why did her voice suddenly squeak? It rose high and quivery in the still cold air, as though she barely reined in some strong emotion. Love? Humor? Shaking my head, I carried her up and over the tall hill, following her crisp directions and hand gestures.
My hooves broke small stones and dead twigs over the edge of a steep cliff, a sheer drop of nothing between us and the bottom of the steep gorge save a few spindly trees and lots of sharp rocks. The small river rushing below echoed through the narrow canyon, dashing into my heightened hearing and drowning the sound of any potential threat. I half-expected Iyumi to cling tightly to my arm, dreading the long, lethal drop to the river below. Instead, she rode my back as easily as she rode her own palfrey through the streets of the city. Careless, confident and royal.
Leaving the rocky gorge behind, we cantered uphill for half a mile or so. The moon granted us enough light to guide our way toward the mountainside that faced roughly north. Its slant wasn’t nearly as steep as its predecessor, and several deer broke from our sound and scent to bound on light hooves over the mountaintop and vanish.
“Where’s this cave, Princess?” I asked, pausing to rest, my rear left leg canted back as I eased a cramp in my stifle. I breathed in ragged gasps, unable to hide the sweat sliding down my cheek despite the cold night. Her hair tickled my bare shoulder as Iyumi leaned forward to point into the shadows eclipsed by the dark.
“There. Don’t you see it?”
I peered into the night. Hmmm. A darker shadow half-hidden by others, concealed by brambles and thorns. Large rocks and boulders strewn out front helped conceal the entrance from the casual eye. A man walking by might never see it, or discover its existence. My heightened equine senses detected no enemies about, nor did I scent or hear anything alive in the cavern itself.
I glanced askance over my shoulder, peering down at her. “How’d you know this was here?”
Iyumi rolled her eyes as she slid down from my back. “Oh, please.”
“Tell me a Faery buzzed the intel into your ear when I wasn’t looking.”
“They hate flying in bad weather. You know that.”
When she made to stride toward the cavern, my arm pushed her back. Nearly squawking in surprise, she bounced off my protection, her mouth turned downward in a scowl.
“The gods may have told you about it,” I said mildly, changing into my human shape. “But I’ll make sure it’s safe.”
“The gods wouldn’t have told me about it if it wasn’t,” she called to my departing back, her tone caustic. “Insufferable, overprotective pig.”
“Complacent, overbearing, high-handed fool,” I replied, stalking away from her, my hand on my bared sword. “Stay put.”
“Is that an order, Captain?” she sneered.
“You bet your sweet ass, plebe.”
“I’m not a plebe!”
I reached the cave’s entrance, and used my sword to brush aside the thorny brambles, peering into the darkness. I cocked my head to the side, listening with the strength of every creature I ever turned myself into. I heard nothing save the light brush of the wind over the high heather.
“Then don’t act like one,” I murmured, walking further into the hole, breathing in its myriad odors. The place smelled musty and old, like a hamper full of unwashed socks. No threat of slumbering bears, outraged wolverines, or annoyed skunks rose to the threat of my presence.
Calling on the last of my exhausted magic, I spun fire into my fist. My flames lit up the cavern, chasing its shadows into the darkness. Only a small cave, with a sandy bottom and traces of dirt falling from the jagged ceiling met my sword and inspection. Within a few rods inside, it ended, the smooth walls of the granite it sprang from rounding up to the top. Trailing roots from the stunted trees above hung down to tangle in my hair as I half-turned back to call Iyumi.
She bolted inside under my hand-held torch with an armload of twigs and dead wood. “C’mon,” she gasped. “Help me. It’s too bloody cold without a fire.”
“Instantly, Your Worship.”
She ignored my caustic title, and tone, just as she ignored anything that didn’t serve her immediate need. King Roidan himself, under his breath and in private, called his only daughter and heir spoiled, insufferable and difficult. Us uncouth underlings called her “The Bitch.” I sighed, reminding myself I’d never call her that title again, and went back out into the cold darkness. Gathering what wood I could into my one useful arm, I made several trips until Iyumi declared we had enough. The fire in my hand set it ablaze as Iyumi hunkered before its raging heat with a sigh of contentment.
“Now all we need is some food,” she commented, sitting back on her butt, her not-so-blue hands rubbing together, extended toward the warmth. The light teased her cheekbones and turned her eyes into sapphires, creating a face so beautiful a man could die happy, just looking at her. No wonder Flynn wanted – I knew now why the simple mention of him, and her –
“I can fix that,” I said, turning toward the cave entrance. “Be back –”
“Not so fast, Atan,” she snapped. “Set your ass down.”
A royal command was a royal command. I sighed, slumping my shoulders, and returned to her side. My “You can’t –” went only so far and fell apart.
“Shut up, soldier,” Iyumi ordered. “Down.”
I stiffened. “I’m not a dog –”
Her finger pointed imperiously at the sand-covered floor beside her. Too weak to resist neither the beauty nor the order, I complied. Holding my weak left arm with my healthy right, I sank down, onto my knees. I craved a stiff drink. My mouth squirted saliva into my mouth at the same instant I knew I’d need not just one of Tamil’s hard-hitting shots of amber peace, but several if I was to remain sane within the next few minutes. No such redemption appeared in either pale liquid or soul-easing intoxication. Of course she’d hold me to unwelcome sobriety. She led. I followed.
Crap. Crap. Double crap.
Her slender hand caressed my brow, swept my hair from my half-shut eyes. Under the soft croon of her angelic voice, I recognized a prayer to those insufferable bastards that ruined my life: the gods. Treacherous sweat slid down my chin to drop dark stains in the dry sand beside my bent legs. The pain I refused to acknowledge swamped my guts with icy nausea. My arm and ribs screamed, on fire, throbbing with every beat of my heart. I needed a fully trained Healer; one who could put me into a trance and mend my broken, strained bones. A spoiled prin
cess, no matter how willing, could replace the likes of Ilirri or Malik.
“Sit still, dammit,” she grumbled. “Healing requires a reasonably cooperative patient.”
How could one of her extremely limited potential heal wounds like mine? Perhaps she only meant to soothe them. My agony could use a bit of a balm. Enough to help me catch some sleep, anyway. Might I persuade her to conjure a fresh bottle, perhaps? One swift flick of her fingers and an expensive, yet tasteful, bottle might drop neatly into my lap.
“Hey, where’s the –”
Iyumi’s hands reached for and seized my left wrist in her left hand and my brow with her right. Dropping her chin onto her chest, she closed those incredible eyes I wanted to kiss. Had Roidan taught her to heal? Sweet relief from savage pain crept down my bones and encouraged me to breathe deeply. That command I cheerfully obeyed. My eyes tightly shut, the tightness in my chest eased. I managed not one full breath, but two. Then three. Then four – Whoa, time out. I hadn’t fallen asleep. I knew. For I was awake to know.
“You don’t know how to heal,” I muttered. “You haven’t the power.”
“The gods do.”
“Tell them to go – “
“Shush,” she commanded, her fingers reaching for my brow. “Shut up and let me try.”
Her soothing touch did its work. Warm fingers slid across my brow, trailed down my temples, caressed across my wet cheeks. My eyes shut of their own accord, despite my orders they remain open and observing. I felt more than heard her lilting chant, her prayers of healing and hope raised to the heavens above. Those singsong vibrations thumped against my ears like a drum heard from a distance far away, like the ghost of an ancient priest. My blood throbbed in time to that drum, my heart beating in sickly rhythm, heat rising, falling, only to rise again from the ashes.
Heat filled my blood. Ice froze it solid. I cried aloud against the torment, pain flooding my senses, swamping my soul. Still, I heard her voice rise in song, her fingers tracing their way across my broken left arm. They danced across my sprung ribs, teased a sharp bruise on my chest and soothed the anguish of my heart.
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