Lightborn

by L J Andrews

  “Compared to others, yes,” Roark insisted bluntly. The scars along his back ached with memories. The moment of pause and happiness faded and with a twinge of guilt Roark remembered Furv and Elder. Were they laughing as they dined? No. Elder was blessing bruisers who would likely die, Furv was tending to Lady Cy’s needs, in any form she asked. He could—would—never forget them until they were free.

  “You think you deserve this,” Agnus whispered at his side. Roark hadn’t even noticed she’d crossed the room. “But you don’t. You may not be able to rescue us all, so when are you going to give yourself the chance to have a life.”

  Agnus slipped her hand through Roark’s; the touch felt strange, as though caring and gentility were lost to his sensibilities.

  “I promised I would free them,” Roark whispered, and squeezed her hand. “So, I can’t betray Bradach, or he will make me pay. The only way he can hurt me is to harm those I care about and that won’t happen so long as I’m breathing.” Roark raised his eyes toward the Saronas. “Thank you for caring for Agnus. I must be making my way back toward the port.”

  “Not tonight,” Kiera said. “With the sky as it is? Have you lost your head?”

  “You forget, I am part of the underbelly of the Bloodlands now. The time of the blood moon is when I will be most welcome.” Roark tried to lighten the conversation, but Kiera didn’t seem to find the words entertaining the way she tightened her mouth. Roark sighed and rested his hands on her shoulders. “I shall be fine. It will take some time to return to port. I must buy supplies in Sortis and be back to the ship by the red morning.”

  “You can’t be out there during the blood moon. It is so near.”

  “I’m afraid there isn’t a choice, or I will be wearing the same dingy clothes for months.”

  “Te’ka can—”

  “He is a man of his own, my love,” Te’ka interjected and cleared his throat as he opened a box used for salted meats and spices. “Take something to eat on the journey, at least.” Roark smiled sadly as the man bustled about the space wrapping pork and seafowl in a linen sack. Te’ka reminded Roark of his own father in many ways. Emotion wasn’t easy to show in men of Jershon. Whenever his father was uneasy, or disheartened he would busy about to keep the true emotions hidden by work. Much like Te’ka.

  Roark clasped the scribe’s forearm and saw in the depths of his dark eyes that Te’ka felt the same as Kiera about Roark leaving, but a man wouldn’t stand in another man’s way. “We shall meet again. Soon.”

  Te’ka nodded, handed Roark the food, and slipped an arm around Kiera’s shoulders.

  Agnus swiped at a stray tear on her cheek. Her eyes were bright and peaceful, like they’d been in the Gaps when she had two meals a day and a roof over her head. She flung her arms around his neck, and Roark hardly knew how to respond. “You will always be the one who saved my life,” she whispered. “Do not lose that man, he is the one I wish to see again. Until we meet.”

  “Until we meet, shaanti.” Roark offered the traditional blessing of peace and backed through the woven tapestry hanging over the doorway.

  His chest tightened. Roark wanted to believe he would meet them again. He hoped Agnus would soon see the Saronas as family. She was nearly a woman, perhaps by the time he returned she would be paired with an honorable merchant, or maybe Kiera and Te’ka would teach her to scribe. As he waved a final farewell and stepped into the reddening night, Roark ignored the fear that it could well be the final time they did meet. Until we meet; the common words of Jershon, were the words he’d cling to simply because accepting anything less ached like a dagger to his heart.

  Chapter 17

  Blood Oath

  When the moon shaded to russet brown the earth glowed like red sand coated the waxy leaves in the Guld Jungle. Joshua settled against the smooth bark of a Jershon fir. The trees were the sign that the plains, as he called them, of the Bloodlands were melting into the lush, damp foliage of the jungle. Wiping the bloody dagger across his thigh, Joshua circled the fallen ape. His men were too far off, they wouldn’t have heard the violent scuffle, nor would they be near to help harvest the animal. He was in for several messy hours.

  Kneeling, Joshua swiped his finger along the ivory tusks jutting over the thick, orange bottom lip. Asada baboons were a rare find, and their gangly limbs and brute strength made them a dangerous predator. As the blood moon approached, more shadowy creatures abandoned their caves to feast on prey seeking refuge in the warm light. Joshua glimpsed at the ravenous gashes lining his forearm. Amoni was skilled with potions and medicines; he hardly worried that his skin wouldn’t be treated before the venom of the primate slipped toward his heart. Joshua had seen the effects of asada poison, and he had little time for brain fever and death. There simply was too much to do.

  “You got the drop on me, my friend,” he said as he nudged the limp, black body with his toe. “But let me fill you in on a secret. Never attack a Thief of Tyv from behind. We are even stronger when under threat.”

  Tearing a dingy cloth from his inner pocket, Joshua cleaned the last drops of venom and yellow saliva from the tusks. With proper treating, the bone would make valuable knives and daggers. Joshua glanced at his battered knife. Perhaps it would be wiser to keep such weapons for himself than sell. The screech of his blade cutting across the gums and root of the tusks prickled down his spine, but he focused on the twittering of parrots and calmer saltu cats whose diet favored berries over flesh.

  One tusk rent free. Joshua wrapped the bloody fang in the cloth and tucked it into his satchel. After one saw of his knife against the second tusk, he paused. The tips of his ears seemed to prick at a noise, and Joshua gripped his dagger with the blade pointed down.

  It wasn’t possible the unit of thieves he’d led into the jungle could have reached him so quickly, even at a full sprint. Personally, Joshua might be able to make the run, but that was for entirely different reasons he kept personal.

  Keeping low at the knees, Joshua shuffled across the earth without rustling even a single twig. His grip tightened around the hilt of the dagger, and his head tilted just so in order to keep the muttering voices in check.

  “How long do we have?”

  Grains of hot sand seemed to gather in Joshua’s airway with each breath as he leaned his back against a dead tree trunk and peered over a shrub that concealed the dried log. Ironic how the jungle sounds silenced the exact moment Joshua would offer his left hand to mask his own steps. The orange glow of the moonlight brightened enough of the shadows he could make out the two figures huddled in hushed conversation.

  Joshua loosened his grip on his knife, but the gritty pulse along the back of his neck only worsened. Hadeon was easily recognized with his slumped shoulders, raspy voice, and the way his right hand never abandoned the hilt of his prized longsword. With focus learned as a child, Joshua breathed deep and widened his gaze until the film of shadows brightened.

  The second man stepped into the hazy sheen of the night. His eyes weren’t as captivating, and there was an ugly sneer painted on his lips that replaced the smile most females swooned over. Night cast away charms the sunlight hid in the Ladroa guild and tonight the approaching blood moon unmasked Kish’s true nature. Kish frightened Joshua. He’d never admit it out loud, but there was an aura about the man Joshua couldn’t name. Something dark and dangerous. What was Hadeon doing meeting the Ladroa alone and in the jungle? Hadeon was supposed to stay in Thieves Waste.

  “At the blood moon we must act. You’ve made the proper arrangements?” Kish asked.

  Hadeon nodded though the creases in forehead deepened as he paced. “Everything is already in motion as he said it would be, now we must allow fate to work in our favor.”

  “I’ve never seen you so uneasy, Hadeon. Is there a problem I don’t know about?”

  “By killing her we’re going against the order, and I don’t relish spilling a thief’s blood.”

  Kish scoffed and stared his black eyes toward the shadowed
moon. “One life to prevent the loss of many, you know as well as I what is at stake if she lives. All that matters is delivery of the two pieces; she will become an afterthought. He likely just wants to kill her himself. A new order is returning to the Bloodlands, Hadeon.”

  “Yes, and how valuable will we be if we disobey?”

  Joshua gripped his knife tight until the leather hilt rubbed a skin burn over his palm. Hadeon never relished war between the guilds, but the Master of Tyv certainly didn’t consider the Phantoms or the Ladroa as allies. In the pit of his stomach a heavy weight settled like iron sinking to the bottom of the sea. Something was wrong. His master always said secrets among a guild took lives, yet it seemed there had been a secret among two masters without anyone knowing.

  Kish chuckled and tucked his brown hair behind his ears, so the moonlight created godly features again. If only darkness could always reveal his ugliness, the Ladroa guild wouldn’t be nearly as powerful.

  “Hadeon,” Kish said. “You worry too much. Remember, you agreed the instant you learned the truth of the woman too. Your value has been made known over the years, as has mine. There is a reason Abalon was not included. He’s weak. There is more to do after the amulet and woman have been returned and we will be at the front.”

  “Perhaps. We shouldn’t be out in the open like this much longer. I will meet you near the gate when it’s over.”

  Kish shook his head with the same impish grin curled on his lips. “No. This is too important to risk. I’ll be keeping watch from inside the gate.”

  Hadeon paused. “You plan to take this for yourself?”

  “You must think me a fool.”

  “No, Kish. Ambitious and power hungry.”

  The Ladroa master shifted with a sinister glare in his features. “I’ll see this through, and if the gods curse me for ridding our world of darkness, then so be it. I will deliver the message to the girl as agreed, then see it to the end.”

  “I don’t trust you. I’ll be watching for you to stab your knife in my back.”

  “Likewise,” Kish said.

  “It may take time. She will do this without drawing the attention of Emperor Baz and she is destined to carry the amulet out. It must be her or it will be lost to our sight. Don’t interfere, Kish.”

  Joshua licked his lips, though his tongue felt like a dry riverbed as Kish’s eyes narrowed into black slits. “I understand the importance. Just see to it you’ve arranged to act once the amulet passes over the border. I will do what is necessary, but I am no fool to interfere with prophecy. Don’t cross me, Hadeon. We both know what that will bring.”

  Hadeon curled his fists and met Kish’s eyes with a new ferocity. “Don’t let her see you.”

  Kish held open his arm as the arrogant grin returned. “I know what I’m doing, Hadeon.”

  “The Ladroa aren’t known for stealth.”

  “And yet, we have still grown powerful.”

  Joshua ducked when it Hadeon turned his way. His heart bruised against his ribs until it seemed the bones might crack. The rattle of Hadeon’s breaths were a few paces from the dead log and Joshua was certain his master would catch him if he took even another step closer.

  “Kish, I shall blame this on the Ladroa. Even if my men cringe at the idea of a female thief, one of our own is one of our own.”

  “You will do this by your own hand? I’m impressed.”

  “Not me, but a trusted thief who will follow the order.”

  The Ladroa master scoffed, and his voice grew distant as he stalked away. “I maintain the girl should be given to me to deal with.”

  “I can offer her one last mercy in life before handing her to be tortured by you. Do you suppose she even knows what’s inside?”

  It sounded like Kish spat. “What does it matter. If he says it is truth, then it is truth and needs to be dealt with. Untamed power has no place in the Bloodlands.”

  Joshua turned away from the harrowing scene. With a brisk scrub to his face, he took several ragged breaths since his heart had started thumping like a mallet against an anvil in his chest. He must have misheard. But as Joshua replayed the conversation at least four more times in his mind, it was clear. Master Hadeon was planning to murder a Tyv thief and partner with Kish. He was going to kill Isabelle.

  Chapter 18

  The Manse

  “You’re pulling,” Isa muttered. Another swift tug against her long hair and her head lurched back.

  “Complaining will get you nowhere, Isabelle,” Lilian said with a click of her tongue. Her brow furrowed as the flame in the small, stone oil lamp faded. Dawn was dark and absent of gloomy gray light that normal washed over the hills of Jershon. The blood moon would rise at dusk and it seemed the sun preferred to stay away rather than greet the day before.

  “You need more oil.” Isa nodded at the lamp. “You can’t see what you’re doing and it’s causing you to rip my hair out.”

  Lilian huffed and only peered closer as the flame dwindled. The cabin next to Lilian’s was washed in light and the glow offered a haze of white and gold through the thin walls, but still Lilian’s room was cold and dim. “I don’t have oil. I haven’t had time to buy more, so stop complaining.”

  Isa winced as Lilian’s brisk hands rolled pieces of her hair. Jade and sapphire rings held portions of hair in separate locks. Lilian braided some ends and wrapped the pieces higher on her head. Watching in the cloudy mirror it seemed as if she had slight horns atop her head.

  “Your hair is matted,” Lilian said, and Isa didn’t miss the subtle shake of her head and her pinched lips. “Are there no women in your guild of barbarians—”

  “Thieves…”

  “…Because if there were women you’d certainly have access to a comb, or your own oils to wash away the dirt.”

  Isa closed her eyes and bit the inside of her cheek as Lilian rolled the final braid and jabbed a tarnished pin against her scalp to keep the hair in place. “There are many fine women in Tyv,” Isa said through a gasp after the sting dulled across her head. “I crossed through a forest and have been traveling all over Sortis. I haven’t had time to wash, Lily.”

  Her sister shrugged and patted a perfume behind Isa’s ears that reminded her of their family’s old white lemon orchards. “I suppose it will suit. You shouldn’t look finer than the lady anyway. Kawal would be suspicious.”

  “What have you told Jakai?”

  “I have told him the same thing you must get Kawal to believe. Jakai believes you are an old acquaintance who has come seeking refuge after Blood Knights attacked your caravan at the Eastern Gap. He doesn’t know we’re sisters. And for safety—”

  “I won’t tell him,” Isa said quickly.

  Lilian nodded. “Do you have anything finer to wear?”

  “Yes.” Lilian didn’t need to know how fine the silk noble gown was, or the rings Isa could decorate on her fingers.

  “Alright.” Lilian bit her bottom lip as her fingers drummed the spine of the bone comb. “Then I suppose there’s no sense waiting. I sent word for Jakai to meet you at the east gate.”

  Lilian crossed the room and cracked the bamboo door that was more like a hanging mat over the entrance than a door. She peeked her head outside, glancing back and forth on either side of the back edge of the house. After a heavy moment, she waved her hand for Isa to come closer. “It’s empty. Move along the back wall and you will avoid any leaving patrons.”

  “I will be fine, Lily. This is what I do.”

  Lilian rolled her eyes, but the way her feet shuffled along the wooden floor Isa sensed her concern. “I hope you find what you’re looking for.”

  Isa slung her cloak over her shoulders and shrouded her head once more. She’d abandoned her supplies near the house. Dawn was cracking through the gray shield of clouds. Isa held her breath. Her pulse thudded in her head until the clouds darkened and a chill soaked the air.

  “This will end for you soon, Lil. It will.”

  Lilian’s eyes flash
ed with a new light, but her sullen face hinted she wouldn’t rejoice until the debt was wiped clean. “Good luck, Isabelle. Until we meet.”

  Isa curled her shoulders and dipped out of the cabin. Wet mist floated over her ankles as she used the shadows to slip out onto the market square. Leavened bread, sweet fruit, and fresh wine replaced the scent of bodies from the red house once she stepped onto the main road.

  The powder lightening her skin was fading, revealing her true coloring. Isa wrapped the cloak tighter around her shoulders and kept her hands beneath the folds. Inside her stomach protested its emptiness as she breathed in the morning market. Merchants dotted the shops. The smithy yawned as he lit the kiln, the baker rested a heavy wooden tray topped with rolls and bread in the window. The flat golden pieces were knives to her hunger.

  Isa ducked into the alleyway that ran behind the hostel and slipped through the back door. Compost and waste mounted in the corners of the corridors, and black streams of mold grew along the soft stone walls, but the hostel wasn’t designed for lavish living. Most residents were simply there to sleep away too much ale or wine before setting off to do it all again the next morning.

  The room she’d rented for a single copper was small, but at least the walls were clear of too much fungus. She even had a circular window she could slip through if needed, and a cracked mirror on one wall. Slipping off the plain dress, Isa donned a blue charmeuse gown that split over the tops of her shoulders. Darkening her skin was easier than the lightening powders, and after a few strokes she looked like a true Jershonian, apart from her eyes.

  Hadeon had taught, unique features could often be used as an advantage, and she wanted to stand out in Kawal’s mind. Shoving her paints and powders beneath the straw mattress, Isa left the musty room once more.

  The outer hallway of the hostel was narrow, and she had to watch where she stepped due to several boards missing in the floor. Isa dodged a gap in the floorboards as a pair of rowdy men smashed into the wall from around the corner, reeking like they’d soiled themselves.