Scion Rising (The Guardians of Light Book 2)

by R. Michael Card

  When he didn’t respond fast enough, she said, “Tirol? How are you?”

  He rolled to his hands and knees. This made his stomach churn with displeasure and sent his head spinning, but they settled after a moment. “I’ll be fine. I’ve taken worse.”

  “Thank, Reisha! Come on, get up. I don’t know if anyone heard that fight or not. We need to get out of sight.”

  He nodded and rose, slowly staggering back into the tent. Wyllea, apparently stronger than she looked, dragged the fallen guard in after them.

  Tirol stumbled over to the desk and leaned on it, waiting for his head to clear fully and his body to start responding the way it should. He felt around where he’d been kicked, but the man had gotten the soft part of the belly, no ribs.

  Wyllea came to him a moment later. “I think we’re good. Find anything?”

  Tirol took his time, drawing a long breath and letting it out. He was starting to feel better, but not whole yet. He forced himself to stand upright and turned to her, nodding.

  “Yes, this way.” He showed her the bags of food, and they packed away a small hoard for themselves in two large rucksacks with straps so they could be worn on the back. They also found blankets for a bedroll and tied those to their packs. Then Wyllea started hunting for more. She searched around the rest of the shelves for a moment but came back, grumbling.

  “There are no arrows here, only food and clothes and such. Speaking of which, put this on.” She handed him a bundle. “I’m going to see if the next tent over has any ammunition.” She turned and left.

  Tirol changed. It was a Blacklord uniform with a padded gambeson and breeches. It was made so plate or chain armor could be worn over-top, but both would slow Tirol down more than he liked, so he didn’t even try searching for any armor. There was a cloak with a hood as well.

  Wyllea returned a moment later, smiling, with three quivers tucked under one arm.

  “Are we good? Can we go now?” Tirol whispered.

  “One moment. My turn.” She dropped her items and proceeded to strip off her clothes.

  He hadn’t really seen much under her great cloak, and when it fell away along with the layers beneath he was pleasantly surprised. That was until he remembered about modesty and turned around quickly.

  Yet the image of her stuck in his mind like a burr. Her dark hair, if not black then close to it, fell to just below her collarbone, brushing well-shaped shoulders and arms honed from years with a bow. Her shift clung to her form, revealing a curvy figure, full bosom, slender waist, and round hips. The shift cut off mid thigh, and her legs were firm, strong, and shapely. Overall, quite the picture of womanhood — even if she didn’t act the part of any woman he knew.

  She tapped him on the shoulder, now stepping close behind him. “What?” she said playfully. “Didn’t like what you saw?”

  Oh, he liked it well enough.

  “I thought one of us should consider your modesty,” he said evenly.

  “Such a gentleman.” She moved around him, now fully dressed, one of the quivers at her waist, the other two tied to her pack. “Ready to go?”

  He was, and they did.

  They slipped off into the night, quiet as the thieves they were, and Tirol could not get over the amount of good fortune that had befallen them. Perhaps she was a charm for luck. Maybe he should stay with her. He tried to convince himself that was the reason he didn’t run off on his own, not the lingering image of her stripped down.

  Tried and failed.

  Chapter 5

  Without much food in her, Wyllea grew tired quickly, but they kept moving for most of the night, putting as much distance between themselves and the supply camp as possible. By the time the moon had set, she figured they were far enough away and they stopped to rest. Tirol complained about still feeling energized from the raid and the running, unsure if he’d sleep, but Wyllea wrapped herself in her new warm blanket and was soon out cold.

  They woke late the next day.

  The sun had begun to warm the crisp morning air of a northern summer morning. Wyllea was used to more southerly climes, and these cool summer mornings, though not unpleasant, were far from the heat of the south she had once known. However, the day grew warmer with each passing moment she stayed under her blankets, enjoying the sun on her face. It could just turn out to be a good day.

  They walked for some time then stopped by a wide creek to indulge in a lunch from their new stores. The parchment packages contained hard salted meat, tangy and tough, but wonderful as far as Wyllea was concerned. The dried fruit was sweet and chewy, and the cheese was pungent and slightly crumbly. It was the best meal she’d had in weeks, maybe months.

  She ate her fill, then rose, moving toward the creek. “I’m going to bathe. New clothes deserve a clean body.”

  “Not a bad idea,” Tirol said, nodding. “Shall I go downstream a ways?”

  “Why?”

  “To bathe.”

  She laughed as she undid the laces of her gambeson. “You still think I need to worry about my modesty? I’ve been in the army since I was seventeen, as soon as I was able to hit a target at five hundred paces. There’s no room for modesty in the army. I’ve bathed with men around me most of my life. It’s no problem for me.”

  “Ah,” he said, drawing out the sound. Then he blew out a breath. “I suppose it would be safer if we stayed close.”

  “It would.” She wasn’t going to coddle him. He could make his own decisions. They’d been moving toward the creek as they talked, and reaching the rocky bank she lifted off her gambeson and lay it on some rocks so it wouldn’t get too dirty. Then she undid her breeches and removed them, laying them next to the padded shirt. She then shrugged out of her shift and underclothes but kept them in hand. They needed washing and would go in with her. She picked up Eaglewing and brought her into the creek a bit, laying her on a few rocks close to where she would bathe.

  Wyllea did her best to ignore the ramblings of the bow in her head. She’d apparently accepted that it was the bow speaking to her, which was just as crazy as her speaking to herself; in fact, it seemed to make it easier to distance herself from the near constant chatter. Over the morning, the bow had been going on and on about some call for help and someone needing assistance. This made no sense, so she’d done what she could to tune it out.

  Once the bow was out of her hands the voice dimmed, seeming distant, and as she moved away, wading into the stream, it grew quieter still. Eaglewing was an exceptional bow, and there was no way Wyllea would ever willingly give her up, but it was nice to get away from the noise.

  The water was crisp and cold, causing gooseflesh all over. She found a spot with a firm, sandy bottom and decided that would do. The water only reached to her mid stomach, but that was deep enough.

  Curious, she glanced over at Tirol.

  He had stripped off his clothes and was wading in, slightly downstream. He was a fair image of a man. Not as big or muscular as most of the men she’d known in the army, but tall and lean with firm-enough muscles.

  She watched certain tender parts of him shrink as he waded deeper into the water and smirked. She couldn’t help but call out, “Cold enough, isn’t it!”

  He looked over at her and froze. “Wha—? Ah, sure, yeah,” he stammered. Then he quickly turned away. The quick movement must have caused him to step on some slippery rock or other, for he then fell backward into the creek. He came up sputtering, and she laughed.

  He looked over again then away just as quickly.

  Gods, but he was a modest one. You’d think he’d never seen a woman before.

  She couldn’t help but chuckle to herself as she washed her undergarments, using stone and sand to get most of the sweat and dirt out of them. Then she dipped herself into the cold waters, scrubbing sand over her body and doing her best to rinse her hair.

  When she waded out, the sun was warm on her skin, and she wiped off the water as best she could so the sun could dry her quicker.

  Tirol was
already out and dressing. He looked like he was still a bit damp, but she had no desire to get dressed while still wet.

  “What’s the hurry?” she called to him, and just as before, he glanced over, seemed to freeze for a moment, then looked away.

  “Just want to get warm,” he called back.

  She grinned as his discomfort. Something about making him squirm with his modesty seemed infinitely funny to her. Her mood still light, she found a long flat rock to lie on. The stone was well warmed by the sun, and it was pleasant to stretch herself out in the heat, drying. She could only imagine what Tirol would think of her laying nude in the sun. The thought made her laugh again. He was an odd one, but she had to admit he’d done well on the raid and held his own. And having seen him naked, he didn’t have anything to be ashamed of. She wasn’t sure why he seemed so flustered around her. She shrugged the thought off and enjoyed her sunning. There were probably going to be many rough days ahead. You had to learn to enjoy the good ones.

  When she finally rose, dry and warm, she found Tirol sitting by their camp, facing away from her. She dressed and picked up Eaglewing.

  Wyllea, you must help!

  The call was so strong it nearly brought her to her knees. It took every shred of will she had to ignore the flurry of words and emotions bashing against her from the bow as she walked the short distance to their camp. Could the bow actually be trying to talk to her? Was it possible she wasn’t going mad, just that her bow had somehow gained intelligence and emotion?

  It seemed absolutely preposterous. And yet…

  She set Eaglewing down and sat several feet away. If Tirol thought this odd, he didn’t comment. Apparently, her teasing of the man had been too much, and he was refusing to speak to her. At least that was the best explanation she could come up with for the man’s silence.

  When they moved on that afternoon, Tirol walked ahead of her. The short distance between them seemed greater for his refusal to speak to her. It was starting to be annoying. But it was only one of many annoyances. In a way, Wyllea was glad Tirol was in front. It meant he didn’t see her constant struggle to remain in control over the bow, which beat at her with such an intensity she could barely control it. It raged and shouted at her to help, that there was someone out there who needed them. It was all Wyllea could do to simply keep putting one foot in front of the other. She wondered what might happen if she did indeed fail to stem this tide of emotion? What would become of her if she lost control?

  Chapter 6

  Tirol sat, staring at the fire as night deepened around him, long after Wyllea had finished her meal and rolled herself up in her blankets.

  He couldn’t get the image of her body out of his head. It hadn’t helped that she’d tormented him back at the river, calling to him again and again as she stood there nude.

  It wasn’t like he hadn’t seen other women’s bodies before. He’d bedded his fair share of maidens in his time, but none of them had flaunted themselves in quite the same way as Wyllea had. Most of the women he’d known had remained half dressed while they’d been with him. Some had had rather exceptional bodies and weren’t afraid to show off in private, but even they didn’t run around naked just anywhere. They might wear a dress that showed a lot of cleavage or most of a calf, but the rest they revealed only in private and never quite as brazenly as Wyllea did. Strutting around nude on the banks of the creek for the entire world to see. Not that anyone other than him had seen, but still!

  What sort of woman was she?

  She’d admitted she had no modesty, that her time in the army surrounded by men had stripped that from her, but…

  He sighed.

  If he was honest, he knew the problem wasn’t with her.

  He’d acted so foolishly, constantly turning away, then realizing he didn’t have to but feeling too awkward to look back. His own meager modesty had tripped him up more times today than he wanted to admit. She just befuddled him so much!

  If she was any other woman doing the things she did, perhaps he would have watched, but Wyllea was… different. He didn’t know how exactly or why she twisted him up inside to the point that he could think of nothing but her, but she did.

  With another heavy sigh, he figured he might as well try to get some sleep.

  The night was warm and he might have been fine just laying dressed atop his blankets, but he felt the need for comfort and bundled himself tightly in the thick cloth.

  A mist lay heavy around him in the night. The moon shone brightly, illuminating the fine moisture. It was pristine, perfect.

  He couldn’t shake the remembrance of Wyllea in the river that afternoon, her body so perfect in proportion, her manner so open and free. She was everything he might ever want in a woman, and at the same time everything he was certain he would never have. She was intoxicating, making him feel excited and ill, all at the same time.

  Then, like a wraith in the night, she was there. She stood beside his blankets, though how she had moved so keenly, without a sound, he knew not. Yet that thought faded quickly, for she stood before him naked, as she had been when bathing. He marveled again at her form, ideal in every way, her strong, shapely calves and thighs, round hips, slender waist, full high breasts, arms lean and sculpted, and a face like none he could have imagined. Now that the grime and dirt were gone and her hair washed and no longer matted, she was more than beautiful, radiant. Her hair fell in waves to her shoulders, framing a slender face, brilliant green eyes, straight nose, and wide, full lips. She was smiling at him.

  “I know what you want,” she breathed, and the faint words filtered down to him. Did she really know? Could she know his feelings, his desires, how he longed to be with her?

  She knelt beside him, moving his blankets away, caressing the bare skin beneath. Her hand came to his face, cupping it. She bent lower pressing her lips to his, her tongue emerging, seeking, sucking the breath from him. Far too soon, it was over, but the intensity of the action told him clear enough how she felt, her own need.

  Then she was next to him, laying her body, both soft and hard, beside his. She pressed closer for another kiss, longer, deeper. His hand found the curve of a breast and kneaded it roughly, following her lead. A moan from deep within escaped her lips. They lingered there, in the enchantment of their mutual caress, as Tirol could only marvel at his fortune.

  Then she moved, straddled him, taking control.

  Tirol’s marvel turned to bliss and he lost himself in it. His hands strayed and stroke her smooth, warm flesh, moving on their own. Passions mounted as this moment of purest pleasure built in waves. he let himself drift on the tide of their desire, higher and higher, until it came crashing on the shores of paradise.

  Voices cried out into the night, hers and his. He didn’t seem to know himself. He had so fully merged with her and she with him. They were one mind and soul mingled within a sweat-soaked heap of flesh, quivering in the mist.

  The dream ended suddenly.

  Tirol woke with a gasp.

  Chapter 7

  Wyllea woke in the night, her body warm, tingling.

  Gods but that had been a vivid dream!

  Her body trembled, blissful, from the remembrance. It had been so odd, like she wasn’t in control of her own body. Such things weren’t uncommon in dreams, though what she’d been doing was not a common dream for her by any means, and with Tirol no less. It had felt so real, so delightfully real. She may not have been in control of her body, but she’d certainly taken control in the dream, demanding, leading, and ultimately getting everything she desired.

  Her body quivered again, warming. Gods! She threw off some blankets and sprawled, hoping to cool herself. In doing so, her hand brushed Eaglewing.

  HELP NOW, PLEASE!

  Like a cold bucket of water dumped over her, the call resonated through her, dispelling any lingering effects from the dream.

  Will you not be quiet! Wyllea yelled back, though the concept of yelling within her own thoughts was slightly baffling. />
  Please, Wyllea, please. You must help. Senia is in grave danger!

  Who in all the blazes of the deep is Senia? And why should I care?

  She’s a scion.

  A what?

  A true-blooded descendant of the Guardians of Aehryn.

  I repeat, a what?

  Wyllea, just stop being so stubborn and listen to me!

  Wyllea actually thought about this for a moment. If, and it was a massive ‘if,’ she wasn’t going crazy. If this was her bow finding some way to communicate with her — which had a whole other set of very implausible ‘ifs’ attached to it, including if bows could possibly have intelligence — and if there was some person out there that needed her help, what would she do?

  Boiled down, it came to this: someone might need her help. Would she provide it?

  Yes, she would. That’s what she had been trained to do in her years as a soldier. That wasn’t the real issue though. The real issue was would she follow what might possibly be some random crazy thought?

  Have I ever lied to you or led you astray?

  Well…

  Have I not always shot true? Have I not warned you of dangers, kept you safe, as I did for your father and his father and back for generations?

  I suppose so.

  Then…?

  Wyllea sighed heavily. I’ll go.

  Oh, thank you, Wyllea. I didn’t want to have to compel you.

  You can do that?

  I can now. We’ve had a deep enough connection for long enough, yet it’s the last thing I would want to do.

  Good to know. Can this wait for morning?

  I think so. The call that I’m getting is still to the west. They’re moving east quickly, but they are also a fair ways north of us. If we head north from here, we should meet up with them.

  Then tomorrow we’ll go after them.

  I’ll guide you. Thank you again, Wyllea. You will not regret this.