by Inez Kelley
Rising to his back legs, the bear raised his great head and an angry snarl burst out. An arrow stabbed into his side.
“He’s shielding them.” The sergeant gaped at the magical display.
Jana fought at her father’s hold, kicking out and scratching at his hands. He pressed his mouth tight to her ear. “Stop. A bear has thicker hide that you can imagine. He gives us time to save them.”
A high-pitched whine ended with a sickening thud as an arrow sank into Darach’s belly. Taller than any man, he fixed his eyes toward the church top and roared. Cold sunshine turned his coat to silver-tipped red and glinted off the knifelike claws. Her father thrust Jana aside and took the shield shoved at him.
Fourteen men raised their wide metal discs to form an overlapping shelter, then bolted out the door as one. Turtle maneuver, the sergeant had called it, and now she saw why. The platelike protection covered the soldiers as they hurried to the garden. Jana peeked around the doorframe.
Darach stood proud, providing another layer of defense from the arrows pelting down from the north. The guards clustered around Batu, Feena and Argot. A few men handed off their shields to their fellow warriors, then grabbed arms and legs, dragging the injured inside. The “turtle” moved as one living creature toward the castle.
A cry pealed and one soldier fell, an arrow deep in his ankle. The fellow beside him snagged his elbow and pulled him deeper into the huddle. In the center, her father supported a bloody Batu. A second soldier wrapped his arm around a filthy Feena. Two men dragged Argot beneath his armpits, a glistening trail of blood smearing the frozen pathway.
Jana shrank back as the troop squeezed in the door. Argot’s chest still rose and fell although his eyes were closed. She reached out, squeezing his fingers as he was carried past her. He didn’t squeeze back.
She caught the heavy door before someone closed it and peered out, searching. Arrows no longer fell from the sky. An eerie quiet filled the garden. The grizzly turned and Jana swallowed a scream. A dozen arrows stuck out from his body, scarlet dripping over the thick pelt. He swayed.
Darach hit the ground as a man but the arrows remained. His chest, stomach, shoulders and thighs all carried fletched shafts, and blood pumped from each wound. He locked his gaze with hers. His eyes glowed deep orange, like coals in a fire.
“Go! I will find you, nayeli.”
On a breath, pale purple smoke enveloped him and he sank into the hard ground, reclaimed by the earth he was born from. Bloody arrows scattered where his body had been.
Someone grabbed her from behind and slammed the door shut. Her mind raced, the bitter taste of fear and dread choking her. The alarm bells chimed in a light musical song that seemed so wrong in the face of such horror. She was swept along in the swarm of weapons and shields, strength and aggression. Even knowing she could not see through wood and stone, or around turns and corners, Jana craned her neck, watching over her shoulder.
Darach said he would return. She had to believe him. He was magic, a spell. Could a spell die by human hands? Her foot slipped in a smear of blood. Humans certainly could die from an arrow and her frantic eyes scoured the backs of the men shuttling them deeper into the castle, but she couldn’t see Batu or Feena. How badly were they hurt?
The knot of people halted in front of the study door as her father fumbled with his keys while supporting Batu. He rammed the key in the lock and thrust open the door.
King Taric leaped from his desk, his face lined with worry. “What the hell is happening?”
“The walls have been breached,” Papa muttered, handing off Batu. The Crowned Prince groaned as his father took his weight. Feena tore from a guard’s hold and rushed to his side. The soldier escorting Jana gave her a shove toward the wing chairs. Papa scowled. “Get everyone downstairs. I’ll come when I have word.”
The study door crashing shut and the lock clicking into place was loud even over the frantic sounds in the halls. Using one arm to support his son, the king pried open a bookcase, swinging it out into the room. A black void sucked the sunlight from the room.
“Feena, grab the lamp and lead the way.” He snagged the whiskey bottle from the wet bar and thrust it at Jana. “Go, straight down. I’ll lock the passageway behind us.”
Darkness swallowed them. The single lamp trembled in Feena’s hand, the light dancing wildly on the narrow stone steps and walls. Twenty, thirty, forty steps, and the ground leveled out. The stone room was no more than a cell.
“Where are we?” Feena whispered.
“The king’s safehold.”
Feena held the lamp high, casting its weak light around the chamber. A wide ledge circled three of four walls and that was it. There were no water barrels packed away, no lanterns waiting for a flame, no medical boxes holding herbs and bandages. Peace had reigned so long in Eldwyn, there had been no need to keep any perishable goods stored away for emergencies. Now the empty ledges seemed to mock their plight, offering nothing but cold, hard reality. There was nothing of use. Just stone and blackness.
The terror of Jana’s dream burst into life, skating on her skin with dread.
The king lowered Batu to one ledge. “Are either of you hurt?”
“A scratch,” Jana murmured.
“Just bruises.” Feena’s voice was calm, no trace of fear lingering. She touched her cheek and offered him a frail smile. “And dirt. Batu covered me.”
“Where the hell is Argot?” the king spat.
“He was hit.” Lamplight highlighted the planes of Batu’s cheeks.
The king froze. “Badly?”
“I don’t know.”
Batu’s soft murmur closed Jana’s eyes. She fingered Argot’s ring, sending a prayer up. He had to be all right. A gentle touch on her shoulder opened her eyes.
Feena gave her an encouraging squeeze. “He’ll be fine. He’s the strongest man I know.”
“I’m so glad you’re okay.” She wrapped her arms around Feena’s waist.
Feena’s trembling hands belied her smooth voice. “Me, too. It happened so fast.”
The king stiffened his jaw. “Feena, bring me the light. Jana, the whiskey.”
Feena hefted the glass lantern, and pale gold washed over Batu. Sweat dotted his face and pain clenched his teeth. Two arrows, one in his outer thigh and another high in his shoulder, angled sharply. King Taric unsheathed Batu’s dagger and sliced along the leg of his stained breeches. His probing finger tightened Batu’s face. The arrowhead wasn’t deep but blood slowly welled around the shaft. Jana’s throat clenched as her stomach lurched. Quickly, she looked away.
“Not terrible,” the king murmured. “Still, it’s been a while since I’ve had to deal with war wounds. I don’t suppose either of you ladies brought your stitchery with you?” The false humor rang hollow. “Well, then perhaps you could spare your shifts to make some bandages?”
Feena handed him the lamp and lifted her skirts. Jana followed and soon the sound of tearing cotton grated in the stillness.
“Your mother is in our chambers so she’s safe enough. I wish I knew where your brother was.”
“He’s busy.” Batu’s pained grin was sheepish. “He has a lady friend and didn’t return last night.”
The king’s brows rose. “All night? Who?”
“I’d rather you talk to him about that.” Batu grimaced.
“I will.” The king pressed the whiskey bottle at his son. “Drink, quickly and deeply.”
“Trying to get me drunk, Papa?” Batu’s chuckle was grim.
The king didn’t laugh. “I wish I could. But a bit will help brace you against the pain.” Batu lifted the bottle and swallowed several times. Two piles of torn white cloth strips landed on the ledge beside him. King Taric had Feena sit, holding the light high. He turned and drew Jana a pace deeper into the dark.
“I can hold him still but you must pull the arrows out. Can you do that, Jana?”
The scent of blood filled the tiny space. Blood. Her stomach roiled with the l
oud voiceless call to dance but she commanded it to remain quiet. She had to help here, now, in the present. “Of course, but I’ve never done anything like that.”
“I’ll talk you through it.” The king squeezed her upper arm then spun back to his son. He grabbed a wad of cotton and twisted it into a rope, offering it to his son. “Bite on this. Try not to make much noise.”
All their gazes looked up, to the unseen ceiling that still echoed with activity. Whether it was Eldwyn’s soldiers or an invading force was unknown. Batu nodded, bit down on the linen and fisted his fingers in Feena’s skirt.
The monarch’s crested ring on the king’s right hand caught the illumination and sparkled as he pointed to the weapon. “A swift yank then tight pressure. Move quickly, Jana, on three.”
She ripped a smaller section of cotton from the pile. The king gripped Batu’s leg above and below the wound. Girding her courage, she sucked in a breath and knelt beside him. Her fingers trembled as she took hold of the slim shaft.
“One, two, three!”
Jana tore the shaft free and slapped the wadded cotton on the gash. Batu bucked but no sound came from him. Jana dropped the arrow and leaned into the padding, putting as much pressure on the cut as she dared. A hand on her shoulder moved her back.
“Bite, Batu!”
The words had scarcely left the king’s lips before whiskey splashed into the bleeding wound. A grunt flew from Batu’s gut and his body jerked. Tight lines stood out against his clenched jaw. King Taric clamped his hands once more around his son’s leg, nodding to Jana. She hurried, wrapping strips of linen around balled cotton and knotting it tightly.
“There. It’s done, rest a minute.” The king sat back on his haunches and hung his head. Overhead, a shout broke through the stone, words indecipherable but the tone heavy with command. “What the hell is happening? How could a troop get through the gates and by all the guards?”
“The kirk.” Batu’s voice rasped dryly and he gratefully took the bottle, sipping once more. “The attack came from the chapel roof. I don’t know how many.”
Jana laid her clammy head on the stone bench, the chill burning her skin. Thick blood covered her hands and she wiped them along her skirt. The coppery smell gagged her. She could feel the stickiness on her hands and choked her nausea back.
A shifting in her soul raised her head. She couldn’t see beyond the dim glow of the single lamp but somehow she knew. Darach was there in the darkness. This small room encased in stone kept them hidden but it could not keep Darach away.
She rose to her knees. She felt him. She squinted, trying to see through the nothingness.
The pulse of magic was a living shadow that surrounded him. Four steps into the black and breath sailed into her body. Her lips spoke his name but no sound came.
Decadently smooth, his voice caressed her. “I have returned, nayeli.”
She reached out, afraid to feel wetness, the protrusion of wood and steel, the torn flesh. Rock-hard skin met her touch. A band of tension around her released and she threw herself at his chest. “You’re alive.”
“When I am with the Earth, I am reborn.” He held her, one hand sinking into the back of her hair. “Nothing can keep me from you.”
“What’s going on up there?”
He squeezed her hands, the strength in his grip hurting her fingers. “If this is what humanity’s like, it sickens me. To attack innocents while hiding? There’s no honor in creeping like a fog.”
She tugged her hand free. “Humans have our faults but we love as well. There’s beauty in my world, Darach.”
“It pales beneath the ugly.”
“Is your world so perfect?”
“Yes, it is. There’s no deceit, no discord, no pain. It’s harmony on every level and plane.”
“If you miss it so badly, why did you choose to leave?”
Even in the black, she knew he was looking at her. She could feel his gaze caress her face. “I came because of a call but I stayed for you.”
A hiss turned her head. In the small lamp glow, Batu bit the twisted cotton as his father bent over his shoulder. The king straightened and met her just outside the firelight. He never blinked at the sudden appearance of another soul in the underground room.
“The arrow in his shoulder, it’s caught on the bone. We’ve got to twist it loose then pull it out but he’s going to bleed very heavily. We’ve only the one lamp and no needles. I need the dagger hot enough to seal the wound, Jana.”
Her lips parted to protest. She’d never called that much fire. Snapping them shut, she nodded. She was a time dancer. She had power. She could and would do this. Batu’s life depended on her alone right now.
Darach braced his broad hands on Batu’s arm and shoulder, holding him still. The thin line of the king’s mouth pinched white. Licking her lip, she focused on the blade. She centered, found the fire inside herself and called it out.
“Hot, hot burns so bright,
Come with heat. Come with light.
Fire hear and fire obey.
Come and do as I say.
Heat this blade.”
It began in the middle of the blade. A tiny spark flickered then grew until fire encased the steel. The dagger turned orange with heat. Amazement rushed through her. She blew and the flames went out but the knife glowed red hot. The king grabbed the arrow shaft, twisted and pulled. Batu lurched but Darach held firm. Blood sprayed, dotting her face and dress.
The king plucked the dagger hilt from Jana’s hand and laid the orange blade along the spurting wound. Buried in Feena’s skirt, Batu’s muffled yell bounced off the stone walls.
The acrid scent of burnt flesh stung her nose, and Jana turned her head. King Taric tossed the dagger away, blew along the smoking flesh, then doused the gash with whiskey. Batu’s stifled scream rang out. Darach pressed harder. Silent tears left silver streaks in the dirt on Feena’s cheeks. She stroked Batu’s dark hair, soft words of comfort falling from her lips. Jana balled cotton and handed long strips to the king, who wrapped the mangled shoulder until not a drop of red seeped through.
“Now what?” Feena asked.
King Taric’s hands shook the slightest bit as he scrubbed blood from his fingers with a bit of leftover cloth. “We wait.”
* * *
The hush was as frightening as the noise. Sweat trickled down Jana’s back. Waiting was torture. The crack of the door seal pulled her spine straight. King Taric held out his hand, a call for silence. Light bounced on the stairwell, growing closer. When the light grew brightest, everyone released a breath.
The seething anger in her father’s voice tore through the chamber like a rusty blade. “The walls weren’t breached. There are no invaders. The kirk top was empty within seconds of the last arrow being shot, and no one could have gotten past my men storming the stairs. But I have three dead soldiers and one who may never walk again.”
“Argot?”
Her father swallowed but ignored her question. Instead, he bent and grabbed a bloody arrow from the floor, extending it to the king. “Look familiar?”
Intense scrutiny lined King Taric’s face then realization smoothed it. “Red and white fletchings. This is a Segur arrow.”
“Four hundred and fifty-eight Segur arrows to be exact. Every extra arrow in the armory was fired into the garden within a five-minute span. But there wasn’t a single stranger on that roof.” He fixed a hard expression on Batu. “And for that reason, I’m issuing High Captain’s Right.”
Batu’s eyes snapped wide.
Feena gripped his good arm, fear evident in her whisper. “What’s that?”
“He’s exiling me.”
“Having the entire royal line in one place is too dangerous with a traitor in our midst. I’ll select a small group of men to guard here, and I’ll accompany Batu and return when he’s safely tucked away.”
“No.” Batu’s command was firm. “You need to keep my father safe. Assign me another man.”
Her father�
��s chin wobbled as he ground his teeth. “Here soldiers will watch each other. I’m not sending you away with one man who could very well slit your throat while you sleep.”
“I’ll take Darach with me.”
“Me?” Darach shook his head vehemently. “No. I came to this realm for Jana.”
“I’d rather have you than a soldier I can’t trust. If Jana’s your issue, we’ll bring her with us.” Batu wiped a shaking hand across his mouth and closed his eyes. When they opened, pure royal fortitude turned them dark. “And I marry Feena now.”
As if he were struck with a whip, her father jerked. “Like hell you will. If she’s your legal bride, it puts her in twice as much danger.”
“It makes her my heir by marriage. If I fall, Feena inherits the crown by law. I trust you to take her somewhere safe. Only those in this room will know. The formal wedding can still happen in April, if I’m alive. If not, I’ll leave a legal heir if not one by blood.”
“He’s right, Papa.” Dirt and grime couldn’t hide the serenity on Feena’s face as she stepped to his side. “The crown must continue, no matter what.”
“If Batu dies unmarried, Warric will inherit. The crown will survive.”
Feena arched one eyebrow, the look so queenlike that Jana bit her lip to hide a laugh. “Papa, think. Warric as king? He’s trained all his life for magic, not the monarchy. If he were here, he’d be begging us to marry and spare him that fate.”
“This isn’t the wedding we wanted for you,” Papa grumbled.
Feena smiled. “You wanted me to marry the man I love, who loves me. That’s all I need.”
He stared at her for a long moment. A rueful curl to his lip accompanied his permission. “Go wash your face. I’ll not send you to bride looking like a street urchin.”
The king and Feena helped a limping Batu up the narrow staircase. Jana lifted her skirt to follow but her father gripped her arm. A sternness in his face fluttered her stomach. She waited until the stairwell was fully dark before speaking. “Is Argot alive?”
