"Too careless about what?" Rhaya asked although she knew she wouldn't get an answer.
"It looks like you will be getting all the answers you've been wanting sooner than I thought." Raemann pulled them into an alley, checking both sides of the sidewalk before doing so. "Isauria, is he answering?"
Isauria didn’t answer as she stared at Raemann with a slack jaw. "What's going on? Why do your eyes look like that?" She turned to Rhaya, who merely shrugged as if she didn't know. "I really think I should get home," she said as she took a fearful step back.
"No," Raemann said as he continued to scan the area around them. "They will be waiting for you there." He paused his search to look at Isauria for the first time. "Is it true? You dreamt Alistair was murdered? Before Nandalia?"
Isauria took two steps backward until her back hit the brick wall behind her. "How did you know that?"
"Then we can't wait for Liam. We must leave now and hope he will follow." Both girls opened their mouths to ask questions, but Raemann whipped around to face the other end of the alley. He went into defensive position immediately, his back crouched and his hands out and ready to attack. The man from the coffee shop stood a few yards away, his stance similar to Raemann's. And he wasn't alone.
Rhaya gasped as she recognized the man from outside her classroom. The air crackled tensely around. Rhaya reached down and grabbed a plank of wood from a pile nearby. She armed herself with the slab as if it were a baseball bat, trying to mimic the stance she had seen players use.
Isauria, proving herself to be possibly a bit more street savvy than her friend, armed herself with two beer bottles from outside the nearby dumpster. "Rhaya? Who are those two men? And why is your father growling at them?"
"I don't know," Rhaya answered, her heart pounding in her rib cage. "But I do know they're going to hurt us. So when the time comes, don't be afraid to use those."
A blur of color flew past them and suddenly Raemann had one of the men by the throat in the air before slamming him down into the pavement. The other wasted no time in cracking a beer bottle against the side of Raemann’s face, causing him to drop to his knees. Rhaya let out a warrior-like cry when she saw her father go down and charged the other man, swinging the makeshift bat with very little skill. The man she was attacking—the same one from outside her classroom—flicked his wrist from two feet away, and Rhaya went flying into the other brick wall.
She remained pressed against the bricks by some unseen pressure pushing through her whole body. She kicked her feet out as the man sauntered over, growing more frantic when he pulled out a dagger. Raemann had already gotten back up and was still engaging the second attacker when their eyes met. He ran for her, but the man he had been fighting stopped him, now having the upper hand as Raemann desperately tried to get to his ward.
The man gave her the same wicked smile once again, a twisted smirk full of dark promises. Rhaya swung out with the plank she had managed to hold onto, but he blocked her with ease and twisted the weapon from her grip, tossing the wooden slab effortlessly to the side. He was so close she could feel his breath on her. He dragged the dagger across her cheek, making a shallow cut that caused her to whimper, and letting the tip of the blade rest under her last rib, giving it a direct path to her heart. Before he could push the knife in, two beer bottles crashed into his head, and he dropped to the ground.
Rhaya fell to the gravel below, the invisible hold he had on her released. Her eyes automatically searched for her father to assess the danger he was in. At the same moment, Raemann took down his foe with a simple snap of the neck almost too fast for them to see.
Rhaya looked up to the hand Isauria offered her. "Thanks," she breathed and was helped to her to her feet. "But what took you so long?"
Isauria was still looking around wide-eyed, her breathing heavy with adrenaline. "Oh, just had to process." She turned back to her friend. "I really am losing my mind, aren't I?"
"No," Liam said and the three of them turned around in unison to see him. His black sports coat was ripped, the light button up shirt he wore underneath torn and bloodied. "Sorry I'm late. I got distracted." He grimaced, rubbing his chest. "And then I got stabbed."
"Oh my god!" Isauria rushed over to him, hands ready to inspect any wounds though he brushed them away. "Are you okay?"
He nodded, leaning against the wall Rhaya had just been pinned against as he looked at his comrade. "Are you all right?"
"For now," Raemann answered stiffly. "Have you heard from Varrick?"
Liam blew out a breath. "I spoke to him this morning. He knows we're on the move. But we can't wait for him. I think they've been in place for a while."
"I agree. Which means we can't go back to our homes," Raemann pointed out, running a hand through his golden blonde hair.
"Not necessary," Liam said. "I have supplies hidden near the tairseach. I replace them every month or so. There should be enough for all of us."
Raemann patted him on the back, his boyish dimples showing. "Normally I would make fun of your paranoia, my friend. But not this time."
Rhaya and Isauria had been watching the short exchange like it was a tennis match and now Rhaya finally raised her hand. "Um, I have a question. Where are we going exactly?"
The two men exchanged relieved sighs before Raemann answered. "Home."
***
Terrena sat on the edge of the riverbank they had been following for the past day or so, watching the rays of the setting sun shimmering across the water. She hugged her knees tight against her chest as she scratched her fingers against the caked up mud across the hem of her dress.
Kenward lowered himself beside her, offering her a plate of rabbit and bread. His usually stoic expression melted into concern when she turned away from the proffered food. "I understand you're upset, but you must eat. We still have a little ways between us and Anscombe."
Terrena ignored him and continued to groom her dress. "This attire is not exactly befitting of the Duillaine, but I suppose it will have to do."
"I'm sure your mother will find something nicer for you once we arrive. She won't present you in rags," he bit off some of the rabbit, chewing slowly. "Aren't you the least bit excited to see your family again? Your parents? Your sister?"
"Provided my sister comes, you mean." She closed her eyes, regretting her harsh tone. "Of course, I would love to see them again. Even though the idea was ridiculous, when I imagined my return to Anscombe, somehow Garrett would always be there with me." She turned her heavy gaze to her guardian. "Have you ever been in love, Kenward?"
"No. My duty is to you as your duty is to your people."
"I'm not talking about duty. I'm talking about love. I know you're capable of such emotions despite what people say about the Cynewards. You love me," she pointed out.
"That's different," he argued. "And even that is unusual for a Cyneward."
"What do you mean? I thought all Cynewards cared about their charges."
"We do. There's a blood bond between each warrior and the child he is meant to protect. We make an oath to protect you, but our vow runs deeper than simple words. You become a part of us, an extension of ourselves in a way. But even with the bond, we have to distance ourselves from personal feelings. We're trained to put your lives before our own and to protect you at all costs, but we aren't trained to be there for you emotionally. Any Cyneward in his right mind would have never let Garrett come with us, regardless of how much you cared for him. We're responsible for your lives, not your broken hearts."
"Which is how you're different from other Cynewards now."
He nodded grimly. "Your pain is my pain, which means your heartbreak is my heartbreak. This is the closest I'll ever come to being a father." He tossed the rabbit bone to the ground in front of them.
She leaned against his shoulder. "You made a great father, pretend or no. I remember the family I have waiting for my return, but I can't help feeling you're all I have left now that Garrett is gone."
He wrapp
ed his arm around her, squeezing her gently. "I am more sorry than you might imagine that we had to leave him behind. I wish I had been able to give him the permission he sought. I think he would have made a great husband, and I’m certain you would have been happy with him."
"I knew our marriage wasn't possible. I have a duty to my people. Which means Mother and Father will have chosen a suitor to benefit the people more than the poor son of a crooked merchant."
They drifted into a comfortable silence, him gently rubbing her arm as she leaned against him. The silence looming seemed to speak volumes of the changes ahead for them both, though neither dared to address the subject. The only sounds for miles were those of the woods keeping them company with the birds and crickets singing their songs as the water spilled its way down the river.
"I should go collect some more firewood before it gets too dark," he said after a while. "Will you be alright here by yourself?"
"I have been alone before, as you well know. Besides, you taught me how to take care of myself if the need arises."
He beamed with pride. "Yes, I did. I'll be back soon. Eat something," he said with an edge of fatherly warning in his tone.
She raised her chin with defiance that melted into a grin. "Yes, sir."
He gave her leg a small pat before pushing himself off the ground and brushing away the debris clinging to his dark pants. She could feel his eyes on her still as she poked at the food he had brought her. She still had no appetite, and wasn’t sure she could force it. She looked over her shoulder in time to glimpse him disappearing into the tree line.
She was happy to be alone with her thoughts. She enjoyed Kenward and truly loved him as a father, but a heavy responsibility was waiting for her in Anscombe, and she could feel the pressure building onto her shoulders already. She would be in a better position than her sister and cousins, but she would still be so far behind. Most Duillaine were groomed almost from birth as to their responsibilities. Kenward had prepared her the best he could, but in truth, he knew very little of what would be expected of her.
In truth, she didn’t know either, and that’s what scared her the most. She didn’t want to be a disappointment.
She continued to pick at the rabbit Kenward had cooked for her. Then she felt the ground vibrate, and saw the ripples move toward her across the water. She stood up, worried for her guardian. He was more than capable of defending himself with his natural strength and healing abilities, but he was also more than capable of getting trapped underneath an avalanche of rocks. As she started toward the woods, a woman appeared at the edge of trees with two men flanking her.
"Good evening, Ainnir Terrena," the woman said with a bow. The green of her hood fused with the leaves of the bush now at the same level as her lowered head, giving the threatening grin she looked up with the eerie effect of a predator hiding the bushes watching its prey.
Terrena winced at the official title of her lineage. Her mind held no doubt that these were not rebels or sympathizers of any kind. Rather, these were true Cahirans sent here with a deadly purpose. She glanced around, wondering why Kenward hadn't come running since her fear was most certainly at an all-time high right now. The woman was small enough, with short cropped red hair and a gentle face that Terrena felt certain to be misleading. The two men standing on either side of the woman were large, one muscular and one more on the portly side. If Terrena ran, the first line of defense she had learned as a child, then the former would most likely be able to keep pace, but she doubted the latter would. There was still the problem of the woman, fit to run and crackling with power.
The second line of defense Terrena had learned was to use her surroundings. Never depend on your own power or your own physical abilities alone. The water behind her would be pretty much no help. She could use her power to spread the campfire to the trees, which was a risky plan at best. She could end up not only forcing her enemies closer, but also blocking Kenward from her as he was still somewhere in the depths of them. A blast of air might knock them off their feet, but serve to be nothing more than a momentary distraction. No, the trees themselves would have to do.
"I don't know what you're talking about," Terrena retorted, trying to sound more confused than scared.
The woman flicked her wrist, a jeweled dagger slipping from her sleeve and into her hand. "I think you do, Ainnir Terrena. Please do not feign ignorance. It will drag this out much longer than needed."
Terrena’s back straightened at the threat. "Very well. You know who I am," she said as she clasped her hands together and began to pace the campsite. She tried to position herself closer to the other side of the clearing from where they stood, putting as much space between herself and them as possible as she readied herself to seek cover in the trees. "If you know who I am then I can assume you also know how powerful I am. I do not want to hurt you, but I will if I have to. If my Cyneward doesn't get to you first, of course."
"Doubt that," the muscular one said with a crude version of the Western accent. "Ee's a bit preoccupied at tha moment. Where's tha boy thas been traveling with ya?"
Terrena tried to stifle a gasp of relief. They hadn't found Garrett. He was safe. She also took note they didn't say Kenward had been hurt, which meant he would be here any minute. Hopefully they had grossly underestimated both her power and her Cyneward, which would be something she could use to her advantage. The woman didn't seem to be moved by Terrena's warning and lifted her hand. Before she could act, Terrena called forth a blast of air knocking over three trees near her attackers. She didn't wait to see if they were able to escape before she made her move, running into the woods opposite them.
Terrena ran as fast her shaking legs would take her, not bothering to look back or to call out for Kenward. She knew he would find her no matter how far she ran. She came to a stop in a particularly dense area of trees, pushing her back against one of the thicker trunks to give herself time to catch her breath. She was feeling the effects of her exhaustion from lack of sleep and food.
Her breath caught in her throat as she heard a twig snapping nearby. She tried to keep herself as still as possible, listening for any other clues as to where the Cahirans might be. Without knowing where they were, she had no way of knowing where to aim anything she might use to fight back. Also, she wasn't sure she was capable of fighting back as her knees threatened to buckle. She was weak and terrified, neither of which aided her with her abilities regardless of how much power she had.
Everything seemed eerily quiet and she kept her eyes peeled for any signs they had discovered her. She contemplated running again, but wasn't sure where she could go and didn't want to give her position away. The air around her began to pick up, whipping her hair around violently until the very trees around her exploded. She threw her arms over her face defensively, but she knew it wouldn't be enough as the shrapnel from the exploding bark hit her.
CHAPTER SEVEN
Zelene's good mood hadn't faltered at all the whole way home. Rob distracted Kyle just long enough for her to sneak off. She really couldn't have planned it better. She probably didn't have much of a head start on him, but she should have enough time to get inside and lock the doors. She didn't know what Varrick had been thinking sending her off with Kyle, but this whole thing was ridiculous.
She pulled into the driveway and gave the house a long look before getting out and heading up the steps. The door was cracked open and for a second she hesitated to go through. There was always something ominous about coming home to a door that was ajar, something that screamed 'horror movie'.
"But I don't live in a horror movie," she muttered to herself, "I live with a bunch of drunks." The screeching of tires made her wonder if Kyle would really have followed her here. She started to turn the lock on the doorknob, but hesitated. Unable to shake the ominous feeling of the too quiet house, she settled for clicking the door shut instead. She slipped her shoes off at the door, as usual, and made her way into the kitchen, keeping an ear out for her foster parents. She
heard moaning and headed in the direction of the kitchen, wondering if Nora or Danny had passed out in front of the fridge again. She’d barely registered the wet sensation seeping through her sock on the kitchen tile before they slipped out from under her, and she found herself on the ground. She was now leaning on her hip, her hands in the puddle of the mysterious liquid that caused her to trip.
She lifted her hands into the area in front of her face, confused by the red drops trailing down her arms. Her mind refused to process the what she had stumbled upon as her gaze flitted around. Her stomach was a rock violently trying to flip around itself as she found a set of empty but familiar eyes staring lifelessly back at her.
She must have screamed, because Kyle was bursting through the doorway as she looked up. She held her bloodied and trembling hands up to show him. He skidded to a halt in the dining room, eyes wide as he looked down at Nora’s body. Zelene followed his gaze, her breath coming out in gasps. The blood was everywhere…there was just so much.
"Zelene? Zee, look at me," he urged. He placed his hands on her face, forcibly turning her face away from Nora's body and to him. "Are you okay?"
She lifted her eyes to his. "She's dead."
"I know. It’s okay. It’s gonna be okay. Did she hurt you?"
"I didn't...I just...And she was here."
Kyle paled. "You came home and found her this way?"
She nodded, biting her lower lip. "Danny. He must have been drunk, and then...he killed her. We have to call the police."
Before Kyle could agree or disagree, the creaking floorboards alerted them to the presence of someone else in the house. Kyle placed a finger over his lips, and Zelene nodded as they rose to their feet.
They both stilled as an unfamiliar voice calling Zelene's name in a sing-song way drifted down the hall. Their eyes locked together as Kyle carefully backed up, grabbing a nearby rolling pin before stepping behind the wall opposite to the entryway where the voice was sounding. Zelene turned around just in time for a tall man to round the corner, the bloodied knife in his hand leaving no room for question as to what had also happened to her foster father.
Heirs of War Page 8
