“I swear Sug.” Criston beckoned, holding his hands in the air to prove to her they were empty. “Nobody here wants to cause you any harm, we just need to be sure ya big friends out there don’t mean to harm us either.”
“Prove it.” She demanded, keeping her distance, “Let me go and I will bring them back.”
“Can’t do that sweetheart.” Jericho joined, bracing his nose as he stepped in beside Criston. He had managed to stop the bleeding; however, the first hints of bruising were beginning to appear around his eyes. Lowering his hands he met her gaze, “I have families here I need to protect, and right now you are the only thing standing between my people and Jaron’s wrath.”
No sooner than the words had escaped his mouth than an arrow whistled past Maya’s ear and embedded in the ground at Jericho’s feet. Startled Jericho jumped back as his swarm of men and wolves surrounded her, Jericho, and Criston.
“Jaron, I know you’re pissed, but just listen to me for a moment.” Jericho shouted, grabbing Maya and pulling her tightly against him.
“Pissed doesn’t even begin to cover it.” Jaron’s angry voice boomed all around them. Sword drawn and body tense, he stepped from the darkness to stand before them. “Now you had best let the girl go or I guarantee the next arrow fired will go through your eye.” Stopping his approach only a few feet away, Jaron was joined moments later by Jarod and one of the other men. The three dark figures cast murderous glares at the tightly packed group of Wanderers faithfully protecting their leader.
“I had no choice, Jaron.” Jericho’s once confident voice, now pleaded, flinching as Jarod and the other Full-blood freed their swords from their sheaths. “You have to believe me, I never would have done it otherwise.”
“There is always a choice,” Jaron growled, his eyes steadily trained on his target. “And you made the wrong one.”
“NO there isn’t! You of all people know better.” Jericho shouted back, his body going rigid behind Maya. Taking a moment to steady his nerves and his voice, he continued. “As leaders, we both know that sometimes we are forced to do things we don’t necessarily want to do to in order to protect our people.”
“I thought you were my friend! I trusted you!”
“I know.” Jericho said, dropping his gaze momentarily before returning it to Jaron. “And for that I am truly sorry. But this was a deal my father had made with Mallok, before I took over. Hell, I didn’t even know about the damn thing until he told me about it on his death bed. The old man was a damn greedy bastard and couldn’t turn down the amount of money Mallok offered, especially when he paid half up front. Not to mention he and many of the other elders that agreed to this cursed bargain still held a grudge over Kahjoul’s attack that nearly decimated our clan a century ago. Unfortunately, the old fool passed before he could see his part through and his obligation fell upon me.” Jericho paused, releasing a heavy sigh, “My father and the others spent the money they received from Mallok almost immediately and I just don’t have that kind of money laying around. There was no way for me to get out of this, I swear if I could have I would. But if I hadn’t done as agreed, Mallok would have evicted us from his land and we have nowhere else to go.”
“I. Trusted. You. I defended you against her when she told me you would betray us!”
“Damn it Jaron, believe me I know! And I am so sorry! But honestly, I never expected it to take so long and I damn sure didn’t expect to like you or your people. But from the first time I came to offer you our services, you and your people welcomed me and my men with open arms. You treated us as equals where others had treated us as if we were no better than the shit stuck to the bottom of their shoe.”
“And you returned my hospitality by stealing my people’s only chance at freedom!” Jaron roared, “Do you not understand by taking her you have sealed all our fates?”
“I do, I really do. And that’s why I want to make you an offer.” Jericho coaxed. Although he appeared calm and collected on the outside, the rapid pounding of his heart behind her told Maya otherwise. “Leave my people alone, and I will help you get her back.”
Jaron’s brow furrowed, “How?”
“I can lead you to her.” Jericho said, loosening his grip on Maya, “Our people have been traveling this country for years, we know all the back roads and trails that the Elementals themselves know nothing about. I can get you to the capital unseen.”
“And how do I know you won’t be leading us into a trap?”
“I give you my oath as a Wanderer and a father, that on the lives of my children I hereby swear that I will do right by you… that I will help you get her back.”
Knowing better than to take the Wanderer at just his word alone, Jaron narrowed his gaze, “What’s the catch Jericho.”
Sighing heavily, Jericho released Maya’s arm and motioned for his men to step away. With one quick glance over her shoulder, all it took was a curt nod to send Maya dashing across the expanse. Once she reached their side, the men immediately stepped in front of her, forming an immoveable wall of testosterone and muscle. Jericho tracked her movements, but the moment she was blocked from his view, he raised his gaze to meet Jarod’s angry glare. Swallowing hard, he quickly averted his eyes back to Jaron.
“All I want in return is a promise,” he began, but seeing Jaron’s eyes narrow, Jericho quickly explained, “Not for me, but for my people. The queen is going to be angry and will no doubt seek revenge for what I have done to her.”
“If you know this why would you be willing to help free her?” Jarod interrupted.
Jericho hesitated, once again meeting Jarod’s black stare. “Because I know Mallok. He may be angry at her for the moment, but he still harbors feelings for her. And given their long history, I am confident that though he says otherwise, he has no intention of locking her away permanently.”
Anger flared in Jaron’s eyes at the mention of K’s past with Mallok, even so he held his tongue and allowed Jericho to finish.
“So, what I want from you is a promise. That in return for my helping you get K back, you will try and convince her to not seek revenge against my people.” Jaron chuckled slightly at the absurdity of the request. Shaking his head he began to speak, only to be cut off by Jericho. “I know what you are going to say but just wait and hear me out.” With a weighted breath, Jericho continued, “In return for the queen agreeing to leave my people in peace, I will agree to hand myself over to her without a fight.”
Instantly Jericho’s men surrounded him, raising their voices in protest. It took him several minutes to regain control of the angry mob, but finally after much convincing, they settled down so he could address them as well as Jaron. “There is no arguing this matter, my decision has been made,” with his head held high in confidence he continued, “It was my father, my blood, who made this foolish deal and me who carried it out. Therefore, it stands to reason I should be the one who repays this debt as well.”
Once again Jericho’s men protested his decision, swearing they would stay by him and fight to protect him, but Jericho held strong in his resolve. Jaron relaxed his stance, watching the scene play out in silence.
He admired Jericho’s desire to sacrifice himself in order to keep his people safe, and he respected him for being man enough to shoulder the burden he was born into. Jaron also couldn’t deny that having Jericho as a guide in this unfamiliar territory would sure make travel much easier.
“I will take you up on your offer.” Jaron said, sheathing his sword. The Wanderers halted their argument and turned to face him, their expressions ranging from sadness to rage. Feeling they would no longer be a threat, Jaron motioned for his men to put away their weapons. Behind him Jarod grumbled under his breath, hesitating a long moment as he considered the Wanderers. Thankfully, with Maya back at his side and no longer in danger, Jarod consented, and finally put away his weapon. However, it did not go unnoticed that after having seen Maya in Jericho’s grasp, in combination with the new found strength and power surging
through his body, that Jarod was having a harder time than usual maintaining control.
Patience brother, he attempted to calm him through their bond as Maya discretely slid her hand under the sleeve of his jacket. You will have your fight soon enough.
Then turning his attention back to Jericho, who was watching them all cautiously, he continued. “Like I was saying, I will take you up on your offer. However, there is one thing I need you to understand about your request. While I am K’s advisor, and have more pull with her than most. She is still an Immortal… and my queen. I will do my best to convince her to take your deal, but in the end, no one can force K to do anything she doesn’t want to do. And honestly, we were not on the best of terms when you took her.”
Jericho silently considered him for a moment, before finally consenting. “I understand and accept your word that you will do what you can to convince her of this bargain.” Then, with a wave of his hand, Jericho dismissed his men back to their homes.
He waited until the majority of them had left, with the exception of Criston, who remained at his side, before he cautiously approached Jaron and held out his hand. Without pause, Jaron took it, making a point to squeeze maybe a little harder than necessary. To his credit, Jericho didn’t even flinch and once he had his hand safely back at his side he motioned for the group of them to follow him. “Now summon the rest of your men,” he grinned as Jaron raised a brow, “I know you have at least one more, although I reckon more, stationed up in that dune. But unless you want them to sleep exposed to the wind and the frigid desert night, bring them down and I will show you all to a few of our spare tents.”
“We don’t need…”
“Nonsense.” Jericho interrupted Jaron. “You have several more days of traveling in the conditions just like those you probably experienced the last few days. And while I do know that some of your kind don’t sleep, it wouldn’t hurt for you to rest for one night. I can even offer you some formula, but my guess is none in this group would be interested.”
“Just show us to the tent.” Jaron answered bluntly, ignoring his last comment. Placing two fingers in his mouth, he whistled loudly and signaled the others to join them. Within seconds the other two men joined his side, staring menacingly down at Jericho.
Gaping up at the massive men surrounding him, Jericho shook his head before turning on his heal and leading them deeper into the camp. A few short turns later he came to a stop outside a massive tent. Sensing the two needed a moment, Maya and the others entered inside, leaving Jaron and Jericho alone in the darkness. The pair stared at each other in uneasy silence for quite a while before Jaron, deciding he had nothing to say to the man, turned his back on him to follow the others inside.
“I really am sorry Jaron.” Jericho spoke quietly, stopping him before he disappeared behind the flaps. “And I will pay whatever price is required of me to make this right with you and your people.”
Glancing back over his shoulder, Jaron considered him for a moment. His regret and solemnity were more than apparent, but that did little to change what he had done. In the end, his fate would be decided by K. So rather than trying to comfort Jericho with false promises they both knew to be lies, Jaron simply answered with a curt nod. Then, without a word, he stepped inside and let the flap close behind him.
Chapter 8
The sun was about mid-way into the cloudless sky when Citera crested the hill at the edge of the housing area. With laden steps she slowly approached the lone tent at the top, perched above all the others like a watchful sentry dutifully watching over the citizens below. Pausing for a brief moment, Citera inhaled deeply, then released a ragged breath before pushing her way inside the canvas walls. Though it had been over a month since anyone had stepped within the confines of K’s tent, other than the stagnant scent of the air surrounding her and the thin layer of dust that had begun to settle atop some of the furniture, the tent remained in nearly the exact same condition it had been in the last time she had visited K.
As she surveyed the empty room, not really certain what it was she was hoping to find, a gleam of light caught Citera’s eye. With a smile on her face, she crossed the room in its direction and lifted the glass bottle off the table as a barrage of memories came rushing to the front of her mind. Turning the bottle over in her hands, she ran her fingers slowly over its smooth surface as she recalled the day she had walked in and found K trying to recover from the hangover the contents of this bottle had caused. Chuckling, even though she had not found it so funny at the time, she recalled the image of a half-naked, unmasked K, looking nothing like her normally stoic and frightening self, sitting doubled over, desperately clutching her head in her hands.
It was that same night K and Jaron had held the gathering in the Core where she, and the rest of the camp, watched in awe as the pair danced together with such fluid grace, that to most people it would have seemed obvious they were meant for each other. Even the following morning at the Exhibition, when they had fought against one another, they moved around the ring, complimenting one another so perfectly that it gave off the impression you were watching two halves of a whole struggling to stay apart.
Shaking her head, Citera placed the bottle down on the table. Because no matter how great things had seemed those two days, all it had taken was a single moment to bring it all crashing down. One second K and Jaron were laughing and talking with her and Dirik, the next K vanished into the woods never to be seen again, and all because of the appearance of those stupid Wanderers. Even now, recalling the look of shear hatred and anger in K’s eyes upon spotting the three strangers sent a shiver cascading through Citera’s body.
Wanting to get her mind off that particular day, Citera turned her attention to the trunk at the end of K’s bed. She knew K kept some of her more personal, private items stowed inside the heavy wooden box, but hesitated as she contemplated the morality of digging through another person’s things in their absence. But despite her conscious warning her it was wrong, the need to find something to fill the void K’s absence had left within her, drove Citera forward. And before she knew it she was kneeling before the trunk and prying open the lid.
It wasn’t that she didn’t know that going through K’s things was wrong, nor did she doubt the fact that if either her or Jaron were here to catch her, she would be in deep trouble. It was just that she had reached the point of such profound desperation that she no longer cared. She was willing to do anything to relieve the emptiness that had taken up home within her chest since K disappeared. The constant nagging void that grew larger and larger as each moment passed without her return, and made her feel as if someone had reached inside her and pulled out a piece of her own soul.
Combine that with the feeling of hopelessness she was being forced to endure now that the blocks had all but vanished, and Citera was beyond desperate for some kind of relief. In her mind, she hoped if she could find something of K’s, an object of hers that she had held a deep connection to, that perhaps she could use it to make a link of sorts with her and fill the emptiness inside. And it was this one hope she held onto as she began to shuffle through K’s most private belongings.
Pushing aside a few articles of clothing, along with some strange looking books with weird symbols printed on the cover, Citera continued to dig deeper into the trunk. She was about half-way to the bottom when she lifted a book and a small square shaped piece of paper fell from its pages. Furrowing her brow, she gently lifted the brittle object and turned it over and gaped at the nearly faded image of what appeared to be a woman tightly embraced in the arms of a dark-haired man.
Studying the image closer, is was clear to see from the brilliant white color of the lady’s hair and the crystal blue of her eyes, that the woman bared an uncanny resemblance to K, and given that it was her trunk Citera was currently rifling through, she had to assume that it was in fact her. Even so, other than those distinct physical similarities, that was where the likeness between the two women ended. Because beside the very obv
ious lack of scarring on the body of the lady in the image, there was one major difference between the two women that Citera just couldn’t look past; the lady in the image looked completely and undeniably happy.
There was no doubt about it, from the glow in her pale skin, to the gleam in her eyes, and the smile that actually looked natural instead of contrived, it was obvious to Citera, as it would be to anyone else who viewed this image, that at one point in her life K had been happy. Not only that, but she had been free of the curse which now restricted her ability to express that happiness. There was even a softness, dare she even think a kindness, in the gaze that stared back at her that made Citera want to weep out loud in mourning for K’s loss. And she couldn’t help but wonder, what in the world could have happened to the K in this photo that had turned her into the bitter, scarred up, and vengeful creature she had become.
Wiping the tears from her cheek, Citera grimaced as a reminder of her link to K tightened her gut. Mumbling a brief apology, though she knew K couldn’t hear her, Citera pushed aside the emotions and turned her attention to the man in the image along with K. He was a tall, slender but well-built man, with neatly trimmed black hair, and with a pair of the most shocking green eyes she had ever seen. And as he stood with one arm possessively wrapped around K’s waist, he stared down, with those eyes locked on her with such intense desire that it almost made her uncomfortable to look at.
Whoever he was, there was one thing she knew without a doubt. This man was no Vanterian. You wanted to be free to race across the border to him. The words spoken by Jaron the night of his and K’s argument suddenly replayed in her mind. Could this be the man Jaron was talking about? Is he the one K left Jaron behind to go be with? He treats you like crap and summons you like you’re nothing more than a …
Forsaken (The Shadow Chronicles Book 3) Page 18
