The Strength to Serve (Echoes of Imara Book 3)

by Claire Frank

  14. THROUGH THE BOND

  Cecily slowed her horse to a walk. She was reluctant to decrease her pace, but she’d pushed the animal for the last hour and she knew it needed a break. Blowing out a breath, she tried to keep herself calm. She’d spent four days on the road, heading south in the hopes of intercepting Daro’s trading caravan, but thus far hadn’t seen any sign of them. She didn’t know what had happened, only that she’d felt something through her bond with Daro. Something intense.

  A rush of energy had flowed through her, as if Daro was pulling in large amounts of power. She knew the sensation. She’d felt it before, when they were fighting Katalis in Madrona, and later when they had faced Pathius and Isley in Caerven. Daro wasn’t one for showing off with his abilities, so there could be only one reason for him to draw in such a surge of energy. Whether their caravan had been attacked by bandits or something worse, Cecily didn’t know. But she wasn’t about to wait around, hoping for him to return, before finding out.

  The caravan would have kept to the main roads, so she’d traveled south as quickly as she could, finding places to camp along the way. Her awareness of him was still there, and over the past several days it had settled into a familiar sense of warmth and connection. She knew he was alive, but she found herself wishing fervently that she had his odd gift of Imaran Sight. When she’d been held captive in Caerven, he'd used it to travel straight to her, able to see their bond. Knowing she was heading in the right direction would have gone a long way to assuring her that he was well, and she wouldn’t risk missing him if the caravan had taken a different route. But despite the ways their bond had changed her, making her Wielding stronger and giving her a deeper perception of her husband, it hadn’t given her Imaran senses.

  A haze of dust clouded the road ahead, and a low rumble drifted toward her. Nudging her horse forward, she pushed it to a light trot, anxious to see if it was the caravan. As she made her way around a bend in the road, wagons came into view. Several people on horseback led the line and Cecily sighed with relief as she recognized Griff and Serv.

  Griff pulled ahead as she approached, and his eyebrows lifted. “Cecily!” His voice boomed over the clatter of cart wheels. “What are you doing out here?”

  “Where’s Daro?” she said, pulling her horse to a stop. Griff and Serv both veered off the road, allowing the wagons to pass by.

  “Is everything okay?” Serv asked, his brows drawn down, as Griff looked back toward the line of wagons.

  “Yes, I’m fine. Is Daro all right?” she said.

  “He is,” Serv said. “He’s near the back with Shale.”

  Cecily let out a breath and her back relaxed.

  “You sure you’re okay?” Griff asked.

  “Yes, but….” She trailed off, suddenly unsure of herself. Had she imagined it and come all this way for nothing?

  “Cecily!” Daro’s voice reached her ears and she nearly crumpled with relief. He trotted up the side of the road, his eyes wide with surprise.

  They both dismounted and she collapsed against him as he wrapped his arms around her. He lay his cheek against the top of her head and she let his warmth surround her for a long moment before pulling away.

  “Are you okay?” he asked, brushing the hair back from her face with a gentle touch.

  “Yes, but are you? Did something happen?” She looked him up and down, searching for injuries; aside from scratches on his forearm, he appeared unharmed.

  He opened his mouth as if to speak, but closed it again, hesitating. “You knew.”

  Cecily nodded. “Were you attacked?”

  “It’s a long story,” Daro said. “We’re okay, but yes, we were. You rode all the way here?”

  “I couldn’t sit around at home, waiting. I knew something was wrong.”

  Daro cupped her cheek with his warm hand and smiled, but his face was tense. “I’m so sorry. I’ll tell you what happened, but we should probably keep up with the group. It’s getting late. We’ll stop soon, and I can explain.”

  Cecily pressed her palm to his hand and nodded before they both mounted their horses and followed Griff and Serv back onto the road. The line of wagons advanced, and Cecily rode next to Daro, feeling enormous relief at seeing him unscathed although she could sense something was amiss. There was a tightness to his shoulders, and his face bore an expression she knew all too well: he was trying to hold something in.

  The caravan pressed on for a few more miles before Griff called everyone to a halt. They pulled off the road into a field and made camp for the night, and Cecily helped prepare an evening meal. Once things were settled, Cecily and Daro sat next to Stoker, Shale, Griff, and Serv, all warming themselves around a crackling fire. Cecily shivered and drew her cloak tighter around her shoulders as the sun disappeared below the horizon.

  “Is one of you going to speak up and tell me what happened?” Cecily asked. A long silence had stretched out after they had finished their meal, and Cecily couldn’t bear the wait any longer.

  Daro shifted in his seat and cleared his throat. “On the way back north, the caravan was attacked in the night. They killed the men on watch, hid the bodies, and set fire to several wagons. The smoke woke us and we had to work to put out the fires. We didn’t realize until well after daybreak that they’d taken Shale.”

  Cecily’s eyes darted to Shale. His eyes remained fixed on the fire and he nodded along silently.

  “Once we realized the men on watch had been killed and Shale was gone, Stoker, Serv and I set out to find him,” Daro continued. “There was just enough of a trail to follow his captors. When we found their encampment, we saw it was manned by at least a hundred men, so we formulated a plan to drive a nearby herd of horses through, hoping to scatter them long enough to ride in and get Shale.”

  Daro paused and Serv picked up the story. “It worked well enough. The horses galloped through the midst of their camp, sending many of the men running, and trampling others. Shale was in a wagon, and he’d covered himself in stone. Daro got to him and helped him out, but some of the men circled back before we could make our escape. Fortunately, we were able to overpower them and ride away.”

  Cecily noticed a quick flick of Serv’s eyes toward Daro and she felt a quiver of emotion across the bond she and Daro shared. She could tell he was holding something back, but she decided not to push.

  “How did they take Shale?” Cecily asked.

  “They shot me with darts and almost knocked me out,” Shale said. “Without really thinking about it, I pulled stone all over myself, kind of hunkered down inside. I think they threw a net over me and dragged me along, until they got me to a wagon. I’m sure it slowed them down some, but there were enough of them that they were able to pull me. My head cleared after a while and I could feel that I was moving, bumping over the ground.”

  “Do you know who they were?” Cecily asked.

  The men traded glances. “They were from Attalon,” Serv said.

  “Attalon?” Cecily asked. “What makes you say that?”

  “Griff and I have come across them before, when we’ve traveled into Sahaar,” Serv said. “We’ve been seeing more of them down there in recent years. I recognized their clothing.”

  “I could hear them talking,” Shale said. “I could understand most of their words, but their speech sounded different. I’ve heard it before.”

  “The Halthian language is rooted in Attalonian speech, but centuries of separation have changed it,” Serv said. “They were definitely from Attalon.”

  Cecily hugged her arms across herself as her mind raced with the implications. “Rogan was worried that Attalon might be massing an army in Sahaar. But if there are men inside our borders….”

  “We’re already at war,” Daro said, finishing her thought.

  A sick feeling seethed in Cecily’s stomach.

  “It gets a bit worse,” Serv said, his voice hesitant, and all eyes swung to him. “We’re fairly certain they’d been following us. Griff led a search pa
rty around the area, in case Shale was nearby, and they found signs of pursuit.”

  “We think they targeted Shale,” Daro said. “They’d been following us, and they came in with a very direct strike. The fires were just a diversion so they could get him out. They didn’t take anything else, only Shale.”

  “Why?” Cecily asked.

  “We don’t know for certain,” Serv said. “But the way they handled Daro makes me think they were prepared to subdue Wielders.”

  Daro held up his arm and drew back his sleeve. His forearm was slashed with cuts and scrapes, the wounds crusted over with dark scabs. “They held me down and one of them clamped something on my arm. As soon as it touched me, I could feel it dig into my skin and, I swear to you, it started to cut off my Wielding energy.”

  “So they were trying to capture Wielders?” Cecily asked.

  “That’s how it appears,” Serv said. “Earlier that day, Shale had cleared a landslide that blocked the road. If they were following us, they may have seen his display. Perhaps it’s what prompted them to attack.”

  “It doesn’t make any sense,” Cecily said. “Attalon outlaws Wielding. Why would they want to capture Wielders?”

  Daro shook his head. “I don’t know. We’ll need to send a message to Halthas to warn Rogan. He needs to know.”

  The weight of what had happened pressed on Cecily. “We need to do more than send a message. We need to go and see Rogan ourselves. This is no small matter. What if the message doesn’t get through? The king needs to know everything, and have the chance to ask all of you questions. We can send word ahead, but I think we need to make for Halthas as quickly as we can travel.”

  Daro let out a sigh. Cecily knew he didn’t relish the idea of journeying to the city. But she didn’t see any other way. If there were already enemies in the kingdom, the situation was far more serious than a written message could account for, and the king needed to be alerted.

  “We’ll head to the city, then,” Daro said, and the other men nodded.

  ***

  Cecily lay in the dark, gazing at the twinkling stars, her mind too restless for sleep. Daro lay next to her; his breathing was even, but she could tell he was awake.

  “There’s something else, isn’t there?” she asked, her voice quiet.

  Daro took a deep breath. “They almost took me.”

  Cecily’s chest tightened, her heart suddenly pounding. She didn’t know if she’d ever be rid of the fear of someone abducting Daro again. “I know. But they didn’t.”

  “They poisoned me with a dart and caught me in a net, then held me down with staffs that had looped cords on the end. They had me immobilized, Cecily, and I lost control. I … I killed a lot of men. I let my energy unleash, like I used to, and they were torn to pieces.”

  Echoes of Daro’s fear pulsed along their bond. Cecily closed her eyes and could almost see the encounter. It made her heart race and her stomach clench. Moving herself close, she rested her head on Daro’s shoulder and spoke quietly in his ear. “You’re safe now. You only did what you had to do.”

  He wrapped an arm around her and lay silent for a long moment before letting out a heavy exhale. “Yes. I did.”

  15. DASHAL

  Pathius kept a tight grip on the shaft of his spear, circling slowly. Raed mirrored his movements, taking deliberate steps around the practice area, his eyes locked on Pathius.

  “You have the look of a man with the thought he will win,” Raed said. “I am not accustomed to seeing this in you.”

  With a quick jab, Pathius thrust his spear, but—as always—Raed batted it aside with ease. “Perhaps I’m simply tired of losing.”

  A small smile flashed across Raed’s face as he darted in, flicking his spear toward Pathius’s head with blinding speed. Pathius deflected, but he stumbled back under the power of the blow.

  “That was not as terrible as usual,” Raed said.

  “Is that what passes for an Imaran compliment?” Pathius asked as he stepped forward and struck, the wooden smack ringing out as their spears clashed.

  Raed spun and took smooth steps to the side. “Compliments are meaningless. I give truth.”

  Pathius shook his head, but he had to admit Raed’s brusque demeanor had grown on him. For reasons Pathius did not understand, the Raeswa had asked Raed to spend time training Pathius with the spear. At first, Pathius had refused to cooperate, but since Rogan’s visit several months before, he’d begun to put some effort into his tasks. Training with Raed was physically demanding and often humbling, but Pathius had found that working with the Imaran was a welcome distraction.

  As Raed struck again, Pathius countered, whipping his spear around to crack against Raed’s weapon.

  “Your habits are unfortunate,” Raed said. “You forget you do not hold a sword.”

  “A sword is a versatile weapon,” Pathius said as he dodged Raed’s next blow.

  “A sword may have its uses, but a spear has a greater reach,” Raed said, pulling in his spear and settling into a relaxed stance. “An Imaran spear is a conduit, an extension of our power.”

  “I didn’t think the Imarans were a warlike people,” Pathius said as he wiped the sweat from his brow.

  “We are not, unless there is a need,” Raed said. “You have been told our history. You know this.”

  “Yes, I do,” Pathius said. “You exist to protect against men like me.”

  “In some ways this is true, and in some ways it is not,” Raed said. “You are no longer a danger. For now.”

  “Does that mean you think I will be a danger again?” Pathius asked.

  Raed paused, his silver eyes intense. “That is not certain. It was not known to me that someone could come back from the brink the way you did. This was something I thought not possible. Yet, here you are.”

  Pathius blew out a breath. He didn’t particularly enjoy talking about his experiences in Caerven. The allure of all that power was so tempting, even the memories were enough to make him long to feel the energy rushing through him again. “I didn’t do it on my own.”

  “You speak of Daro now,” Raed said, a hint of contempt in his voice.

  “He told me I would burn away to nothing and leave a wash of death in my wake,” Pathius said. “He was right. I would have sucked everything dry if he hadn’t stopped me.”

  “What you chose to do in that moment had meaning,” Raed said. “But what you choose to do today has all the more. You owe him nothing.”

  Pathius looked up. “You don’t like Daro very much, do you?”

  “He is reckless. He uses his power like a hammer, without enough control or subtlety.”

  “The same could be said of me,” Pathius said.

  “You are not Imaran,” Raed said. “Daro’s father was of our people. He should know better.”

  Pathius laughed as he leaned his spear against the trunk of a massive cedar. “So you can forgive my brutish ways because I’m Halthian and don’t know any different?”

  Raed cracked a small smile. “I think you hear disdain for your people in my words. I expect you to move and think the way you were taught. There is nothing wrong in this.”

  “Yes, well, I was certainly not taught to be Imaran.”

  “This is truth,” Raed said.

  The sun was still high as Pathius followed Raed back to the Imaran city. They were only a short distance from the plateau, and the thunder of the waterfalls grew. As they neared the bridge that would take them across the water, a sense of wrongness crawled through him. Although he couldn’t pinpoint what it was, it reminded him of the dying broga in the forest. Pathius paused and Raed turned to look at him.

  “You feel this?” Raed asked.

  Pathius nodded. “What is it?”

  “I do not know, but something is not right.”

  They quickened their steps, and hurried across the bridge and up the winding walkway. Raed seemed to know where he was going, so Pathius simply followed. The sensation gnawed at him, compelling
him on, and he nearly ran down the long hallway as his sense of urgency grew.

  Ara came running from the other direction. “What has happened?”

  “It was my hope you knew,” Raed said.

  Ara shook her head and they glanced around the hallway. “Above,” she said.

  Pathius followed them along another spiral path that took them upward, and they emerged above ground. The wide plateau stretched out before them, water from several streams sparkling in the afternoon sun. Pathius caught sight of two figures in the distance. One lay prone on the ground, not moving; the other stood nearby. Although the second was dressed in Imaran clothing, Pathius could tell he was Dashal, one of the other Halthian altered Wielders.

  “Oh, no,” Ara said under her breath and ran toward the men.

  “Wait,” Raed said as he ran after her, clutching his spear in one hand.

  The energy disturbance grew as Pathius neared the prone Imaran. His eyes were rolled back and his head lolled to the side. White froth bubbled from his lips, and his arms and legs lay at awkward angles. Ara dropped to her knees at his side and began calling to him and touching his face, but Pathius’s attention went immediately to the altered Wielder.

  Dashal stood upright, staring at the Imaran, his eyes wide and unnaturally bright. Pathius had spent little time with the other altered Wielders, but he knew the Imarans considered Dashal to be particularly dangerous. He and Blur had both surrendered to the Imarans at Madrona, but Katalis had pushed them both so close to the edges of madness they’d had a difficult time coming back to themselves. Pathius had at least had the benefit of Daro’s intervention into his mind. These men had been so far gone, it had taken Ara weeks to find Imarans willing to help them.

  Putting a hand up toward Dashal, Pathius took slow steps forward. Wild-eyed, Dashal jerked his head around, looking from person to person. The hair on the back of Pathius’s neck stood on end as a breeze picked up, bending the grass at their feet.

  Pathius could sense the energy pouring through Dashal, a raging torrent of power. Memories of Caerven flashed through Pathius’s mind, the sensation of drawing in so much power that he felt it nearly unmake him. Shuddering, he tried to push thoughts of the past away as he saw Raed lift his spear.