As Dragons from Sleep (The Tahaerin Chronicles Book 2)

by J. Ellen Ross

  Zaraki fell on the man, anger and adrenaline urging him on. He would kill every one of them given the chance. They would all pay for Lukas’s betrayal.

  Pushing the soldier’s head to one side with his knee, he drove his blade into the rider’s throat and pulled it back in one movement. Gurgled cries tumbled from the dying man’s lips as blood gushed out.

  Ignoring the pain from the cut on her arm, Ani leapt from her horse and walked to the bloodied soldier she had knocked to the ground earlier. She watched as the other man tried to scramble back, dazed and begging for mercy through the blood covering his face. But the adrenaline sang in her blood and she remembered all the years of training, all the lessons. Kill to save yourself. Kill to save your employer.

  ***

  Jan and Eamon moved their horses forward, driving Lukas and his two guards away from the bend in the road and any chance they might have to signal the keep. Closing the distance between themselves and the prince, they saw Irion kill one soldier and watched the last of Lukas’s guards move to defend his lord. Foolish, Jan thought, but if they wanted to die for their prince, he would not stop them.

  Reining his horse in to prance in front of Lukas’s man, Irion saluted the prince and his guard, hoping for a good fight. The boy waited, sword in hand, and when the other man thrust at him, he evaded it easily, bending out of the way. Their weapons clashed as the two men sought an opening. His patience paid off, when the guard swung his weapon wide and Irion sliced at the man’s forearm.

  Wounded and bleeding, the soldier raised his hands in the air to surrender, but he held no value. Jan had no interest in handing out mercy, and he killed the guard with an arrow in the back.

  Grinning madly, Irion saluted Jan before turning his eyes to Lukas. Seeing the last of his guard fall, the prince made the decision to run. He hauled frantically at Capar’s reins, fighting to turn the horse with one hand while the other tried to steady the still form in his arms. But the great black beast had spooked, clearly unused to fighting. Irion reached out and ripped the Auleron’s reins from Lukas’s hand.

  ***

  Seeing all the Embriel men down, Aniska wanted nothing more than to sit down and weep. Though they were not yet safe, they had done it. She knew Leisha lay in Lukas’s arms and now they had a hostage to ensure their safety.

  She grabbed at the reins of her horse and watched as Zaraki raced ahead on foot. Let him have this moment, she thought, beginning to feel the throbbing pain in her arm. When she looked down, she saw her sleeve soaked through with blood. Someone would need to help her stitch it up later.

  “Lukas!” Zaraki shouted when he saw the prince hauling at the reins, trying to wheel Capar around. They could not get this close and let Lukas get away. His great black friend heard the familiar voice and turned his head, no longer interested in listening to the stranger on his back.

  Once Irion had his reins, Capar settled, and Zaraki nearly wept in relief. He watched as Lukas set his jaw and sat up straight in his saddle.

  Zaraki held out his arms as he reached Capar’s side. “Give her to me,” he demanded. No doubt remained in his mind who lay cradled in Lukas’s arms.

  The prince hesitated, knowing he had only one bargaining. He entertained the idea of threatening to kill Leisha, but then the man behind him jabbed him with the point of his sword.

  “I’ll stab you through if you do what you’re thinking,” Eamon growled. “Good behavior now will go a long way later.”

  Grimacing, Lukas said, “She’s just sleeping, I promise. Don’t kill me.” He shifted Leisha’s body to let her limp form slide down Capar’s side.

  She weighed almost nothing. Zaraki pushed back the hood on the cloak and choked seeing her face. There were bruises on her chin, dark circles under her eyes, and she looked thin, frail. What had they done to her? He reached out and stroked a finger across her cheek. Then she drew a shallow breath and shifted in his arms. Joy and relief welled up, and he wanted to fall to his knees to thank the gods his mother used to pray to. She was alive.

  He heard Ani’s footsteps behind him and felt her hand on his shoulder. “Is she alright?”

  “I don’t know yet, but get him off my fucking horse,” he snarled.

  Lukas started to climb down, deliberately slow, but Aniska had had enough entitled noble bullshit for one day. She grabbed a handful of coat and yanked him off.

  The prince stumbled and then made to run, but she expected it and rejoiced at the chance to punish him. She leapt on him before he could take more than two steps and dragged him to the ground. Lukas struggled and tried to crawl away, but Aniska grew up with nine other orphaned boys. Wrestling and scrapping with bigger opponents came naturally to her, and the prince stood no chance.

  She seized the collar of his coat, hauled back on it and then sat down between his shoulders. A lungful of air whooshed out. Grabbing a handful of hair, she yanked his head back. “I wouldn’t,” she warned, her wicked-sharp stiletto poised next to his ear while she hissed in the other. “I’ll stir your brain with this. Or can I kill him?” She definitely wanted to kill him.

  They had always planned to take Lukas if possible. But here, seeing Leisha’s bruised face, Zaraki fought the urge to order his death, wanting to torture him for what he had done. He started to tell Ani to finish it.

  “No,” Eamon interrupted, seeing the look passing between them. “Bind him and bring him. Remember, his people will think twice about attacking us with him there.”

  Zaraki hesitated and then turned his attention to his best friend. Capar’s usually glossy coat looked dull and caked in mud in places, but he whickered a greeting and asked for a treat. Two weeks of eating whatever garbage they had been feeding him did not seem to have dulled his spirits, at least.

  “That’s one heroic rescue. The queen and the horse returned,” Irion said, sounding very pleased.

  Ani stood up, a foot resting on Lukas’s back. “Is anyone seriously injured?” She saw they all bore cuts and blood and bruises. But everyone shook their heads, so she started barking orders.

  “Get these bodies off the road, and round up the horses. Look for food and water in their packs. Someone bring me something to tie this one up. We’ll wait for another few minutes for Eli and then ride on. He knows where to meet us.”

  As they worked to cover some of their tracks, Eli rode back with Lorant trailing behind him. A long rope led from the pommel of his saddle to bind the other’s man hands. Dirt and leaves covered both men, and Lorant’s lip looked bloodied. Eli, however, smiled happily while the former Lord of Adrojan looked frightened and ready to be sick as he stumbled behind the horse. Lukas cursed as all hope of rescue from the keep disappeared.

  Threats and promises of violence did little to encourage their two new captives to climb back into the saddles. They knew once they crossed the border, nothing could save them. However, they both complied when Aniska suggested she would just gut them and leave their bodies as a reminder to others Ostravans were vengeful and malicious. Once their prisoners were mounted, Eamon and Jan bound their hands and tied them to the pommels before taking the reins.

  “All right, we need to be as far away from here as possible. We have hours of daylight left, so let’s get on with it,” Ani said finally.

  Reluctantly, Zaraki asked Eli to hold Leisha as he climbed on Capar’s back. It took two tries as his bruised and aching shoulder protested. Still, he refused the other’s man offer to carry her for a while.

  With everyone mounted, Aniska ordered them to move. They raced the horses down the road and turned onto the cart path, putting as much distance between themselves and the keep as possible before night fell.

  As they rode, the others kept away, trying to give Zaraki some space. Bruised and thin as Leisha was, he could not take his eyes off her. Not even on their wedding day, with her hair threaded with jewels and her eyes shining as she pledged herself to him, had she looked as beautiful as she did now. Alive and with him.

  In his arms, she
slept fitfully, mumbling and tossing about. She began taking deep, ragged breaths as tears slid down her cheeks. His heart ached seeing it, and he used his free hand to brush across her cheek. Leisha stirred and her eyes opened. Staring up at him, she blinked several times before licking her lips and frowning. “They told me you were dead,” she muttered before drifting off to sleep again.

  Without noticing, Zaraki had allowed Capar to lag behind. “She’ll sleep for another few hours,” Lukas said as they rode near him and Jan. “She’ll be confused, but it won’t last. For what it’s worth, I’m sorry. Lorant—”

  “Fuck you,” Zaraki said with slow, deliberate words. He turned in his saddle to look at both prisoners. “You told her I was dead?”

  Lukas started to protest, but Zaraki cut him off. “If either one of you says a single word to her or even looks at her, it will be a contest between Aniska and I to see how loud you can scream before you die. That’s your only warning.”

  As he moved Capar back up the line of riders, he heard Jan say, “Make your peace with whatever gods might care about you. You two are already dead.”

  Aniska pushed them hard, looking for the sheltered clearing they spotted on the way to the keep. Her arm ached and her horse did little to help as he trotted down the path. She wanted them across the river as quickly as possible, but they needed to sleep, eat, and check everyone’s wounds. The gash on her arm continued to weep blood, and the cut over Eli’s eye certainly needed stitches. Zaraki’s shoulder obvious hurt, given the way he favored it.

  The sun sat low, barely peeking over the horizon when they finally stopped.

  As Jan took Leisha, she moaned and shifted. For the last half hour, she stirred, restless in Zaraki’s cramped and aching arms. Several times, she had opened her eyes but showed no sign of recognition as she fell back asleep.

  “We’re far enough off the road. Let’s build a small fire,” Ani said. “So it’s not pitch-black when she wakes up. We can clean each other up, too.”

  When Zaraki sat down, his back against a tree, he peeled off the cloak Lukas had wrapped Leisha in and ground his teeth. Gone was the blue silk gown he would never forget, the one she wore as she lay on the ground gasping for breath and staring at him. Instead, she wore drab brown linen, and now he saw the bruises encircling her wrists.

  Aniska saw his jaw clench. “We don’t know what they did,” she said so others would not hear. “Her other dress had that full skirt. This one would be easier to deal with on a horse. I’ll find out, though.”

  “Keep them away from me,” Zaraki said in a rush, trying to smother his rage. “I don’t care why they did it. And I don’t want her seeing them when she wakes up.”

  She put a hand on his shoulder before saying, “Eamon and I’ll take care of it. Don’t worry.”

  They led Lukas and Lorant out of the circle of light and bound them. Aniska wanted to ask then, but did not want Eamon to hear their answer. Instead, the younger man volunteered to take first watch. “One word, one squeak, one peep out of either of you and I’ll slit both your throats,” he told the two men. “I don’t even know you and I dislike you.”

  ***

  The cycle started again, endless and awful. Leisha felt sleep retreating, and like all the other times, coming awake required a monstrous effort. But this time she withdrew to huddle in her mind, no longer willing to fight or even try. It all felt pointless, she could never swim out of the haze and fog. They were coming for her and she could not find any way to free herself. The flowers always seized her and pulled her back down.

  Like the last few times, her hunger attacked, gnawing away at her resolve to starve herself. Her body wanted to live, but her mind remembered what lay ahead and what she had lost. She thought she felt tears sliding down her cheeks but could not tell if they were real or not.

  Hushed voices spoke around her, not Lukas or Lorant, and the monotonous click click click of the clock had disappeared. Terror crested over in a wave, pulling her along. All these changes meant one thing. Death had come for her.

  Leisha’s heart hammered, filling her with adrenaline and commanding her to get up, to fight. Panic gripped her. She wanted to get away, to run. Hands lifted her. No, no, no. Please, I don’t want to die like this! Her thoughts were chaotic, ragged with fear.

  A horse whickered nearby. It was too late; they were taking her away. Alone and terrified, she would die, never seeing anyone she loved again.

  Gasping sobs thundered in her ears and she felt fingers wiping at her tears. She heard a familiar voice—the one that hurt her. Her hands flailed, striking out at whoever stood closest. She dragged her eyes open and for the first time in weeks, saw a star-filled sky.

  ***

  “Give her a minute.”

  Sitting on the ground with her head in his lap, Zaraki’s hand stroked her hair and down one cheek. Without warning, she struck out, battering his hand away. He yelped and saw scratches across the back.

  Aniska caught one of her bruised wrists as she flailed, watching her friend’s erratic and panicked breathing. “Leisha?”

  They watched as she stilled, seeming to recognize that voice. “Ani?” she croaked. That made no sense. How could Ani be here?

  Zaraki let out a choked breath and she tilted her head back. Her mouth opened, but no words came out. “You’re safe,” he said, and watched her lovely, dark eyes dart around frantically.

  ”Here. Let’s sit her up some,” Ani suggested. “Give her water when she’s ready.”

  Pulling her into his lap, Zaraki held her against him and listened as her breathing slowed. She seemed more alert as she looked up, and her roving eyes focused on his face. “Hello, love,” he said, and watched as she swallowed. “Are you thirsty?”

  She scowled and then nodded. “Yes, quite,” she muttered, sounding bewildered.

  He raised the cup Ani brought for her and held it to her lips when he saw how her hands shook. At first, she gulped at the water, then a confused look crossed her face and she stopped drinking.

  “Where are we?” Leisha asked as memories and dreams collided with reality. Had she dreamt about Lukas? About a small room filled with blood? Her head felt so muddled, and she could not grasp the threads of the dreams dancing around her.

  “In the woods, in Embriel. We rescued you,” Zaraki said.

  Now her head came up, suspicion in her eyes. The dreams felt tangible, heavy and real. “We?” she asked.

  He smiled and nodded to the others across the fire. “Yes, we. Aniska, Jan, Eli, Irion. Eamon is standing watch.”

  When she looked around, a sea of expectant faces stared back—faces that, miraculously, she recognized. A hand lifted to rub at her eyes.

  “Wait,” Leisha whispered, frowning and attempting to pull all the strands of her memory back together. “Wait. You saved me?” she asked, confusion rippling across her words. She started shaking and looked around desperately, finally taking in their surroundings as all the pieces fell into their places. Embriel, Lukas. All of it real.

  Memories. Not dreams. They were not dreams.

  Her eyes opened wide and she stared ahead for a long moment, struggling to accept his words. “You saved me?” she asked in a quiet voice full of disbelief. Then choking sobs poured from her mouth. “Lukas and Lorant,” she gasped. “They were going to sell me to Gerolt’s men. They were going to kill me. And you saved me? They told me you were dead.”

  Zaraki wrapped her in his arms, crushing her against him and burying his face in her hair. He felt her reach around his neck as she scrabbled madly at him, her hands roaming over his back as she tried to reassure herself this was real. They held each other and wept, neither caring who saw their reunion.

  “I thought you were dead,” Leisha wailed through her tears. “I thought I was going to die there. And you saved me.” She would not be sold to a pain-worshipping death cult to be tortured and abused. Overwhelmed with relief, she could only cling to him as she trembled.

  “Of course,” Zaraki w
hispered hoarsely, reveling in the familiar scent of her skin, the sound of her voice and the feeling of her body pressed against him. “It was never a question. Never. I would have come for you, no matter what. You’re safe now.” Tenderly he combed his fingers through her tangled hair, and down her back. He ran his hands down her arms to her fingertips, reassuring himself once more that she was here.

  Around the fire, everyone smiled at each other, one or two even shedding a happy tear. If they could just reach the river tomorrow or the day after, Aniska thought, this near tragedy could end happily.

  Leisha wept for her freedom, for Zaraki’s life, for an end to the nightmare. Finally, exhausted and still in shock, she huddled against his side, listening to beat of his heart. They sat wrapped together in his cloak, watching the small fire leap. Everything hurt from disuse and her hysterical outburst. It felt so strange to have a body again, one she owned and one that did as she commanded. A part of her refused to accept this. The rescue, freedom from the flowers, safety, the slow return of her gifts.

  When she realized she could read the thoughts around her once more, some primal urge to defend herself reared up. The power the drug had held at bay surged forward, restless and angry at its imprisonment. If she could read their minds, it reminded her, then she could kill again. And she would if Lukas came for her.

  Zaraki felt her tense in his arms and felt the hair on his neck rise. The air snapped and popped around them—like the night she killed Fellnin. “Are you all right? Are you hurt?”

  Leisha jumped. “No, I’m not hurt. I don’t think I am.” Words crowded behind her teeth and she wanted so badly to say more. To tell him she was physically unharmed, but felt like she might come apart at the seams at any moment. She felt exhausted and frightened, chaotic and confused. Instead, she asked, “How did you find me?”

  “We’ve been here for a week, waiting for them to open the gates.”

  She jerked her head up, brows knitted together. “They kept me drugged the whole time. I don’t remember—How long did they have me?” The question came out small and frightened.