Divine Blood

by Beck Michaels

  “Why would you help us?” Zev growled.

  He met Dyna’s weary gaze. “I owe her a debt. I may serve Tarn, but I don’t wish her any harm. You must leave. Go!”

  At his urgency, they ran down the hill. Dyna didn’t have the will to remain awake any longer. Her eyes slid closed as Cassiel’s stride rocked her to sleep.

  Chapter 42

  Zev

  Zev wanted nothing more than to hunt down those who pursued them. It was not in his nature to run away from any threat, but now it was the only option. They needed to get Dyna far from this place. He caught Cassiel’s eye, and the Prince nodded in wordless agreement. As soon as it was dark, they would travel again all night to put some space between them and this newfound enemy.

  Lord Norrlen took point while Zev guarded the rear. The elf descended nimbly down the shrouded hills. Cassiel followed behind, keeping Dyna tucked close. She didn’t stir, no matter how much he jostled her. The grey tint to her pale complexion worried Zev. She may sleep for days this time.

  But the most concerning was the man who’d sent his men to capture her. The scent of their blood lingered on the Prince. Zev would no sooner forget the cold, unfeeling mask Cassiel wore when he had tortured a Raider to learn Dyna’s whereabouts. But he was not a killer, and the act visibly affected him.

  Cassiel blamed the sorceress. Zev blamed himself. He had separated from them when they should have stayed together. Otherwise, Von would not have so easily taken her.

  So many questions ensnared his mind. Who was Tarn? What interest did he have in Dyna? Why was he wanted by the Azure King?

  Rawn brought them to a shallow end of the lake. He parted a crop of reeds and revealed a raft resting on the bank, water lapping against it. The crude thing was mere driftwood tied together by spent rope, hardly large enough to hold two people.

  “You used this to cross the loch?” Zev asked skeptically.

  Rawn withdrew a long rod of wood from the water, an oar he must have used to steer the raft. “It had served me well enough to pass the bridge unseen.”

  “With your horse?” Zev scented the elvish steed on Rawn’s clothing, but it was nowhere to be seen.

  “Fair awaits me in a northern wood past the bluffs.”

  Cassiel shook his head. “That will not hold us all.”

  “Then we swim,” Zev said as he stripped off the borrowed cloak. Cassiel’s mouth pursed in distaste at the water. “You cannot risk flying a second time. Someone may have spotted you already. Dyna … will have to ride with Lord Norrlen.”

  Rawn knew how to steer the raft, so it was best that both he and Cassiel stay on alert. Zev called on his wolf. A dull ache went through him as his muscles and bones fluidly shifted. He landed on all four paws and shook out his flank. His nose flared at the scent of blood, ash, and sweat mingling with stagnant water and rotting plant matter.

  Zev turned to look at his companions, and he froze. His wolf eyes were much more sensitive, catching things his usual sight wouldn’t. Light haloed around Cassiel. That was no surprise, but Dyna ... light streamed from her as bright as a star in the night.

  Like a Celestial.

  “All right?” Cassiel asked as he kicked off his boots.

  Zev turned away, needing to clear his spotty vision and his head.

  “May I take her?” Rawn asked.

  Zev growled at him, now more ruled by his wild instincts. He was hesitant to hand over his cousin to a stranger. Cassiel also took a step back, arms tightening around her. How well could they trust Lord Norrlen even if he had come to their aid?

  Rawn dropped to one knee in the muddy bank before Zev as one would for a lord. He laid a hand over his heart, turquoise eyes looking into his. “On my life, you have my sworn word that I will see you and yours to safety.”

  It was an oath given unreservedly. Zev had heard oaths given by the elves were a binding promise. Though he was reluctant to believe it, he could hear Rawn’s heart beating steadily. It carried no lie.

  Zev looked at Cassiel and his expression tensed. He reluctantly passed Dyna to Rawn, holding on a second longer before releasing his grasp.

  “Careful,” he said, his hard tone braced in a warning.

  “No harm will come to Lady Dyna.” Rawn placed her on the raft and quickly climbed on. “Make haste. We mustn’t tarry here any longer.”

  With the rod, he pushed off the bank. Zev and Cassiel slipped into the murky water and flanked the raft, swimming on either side of it. The passing greenery was still and quiet, save for the soft churn of water and the chatter of wildlife in the surrounding trees. Zev listened for any threat, sniffing the air for hidden enemies, but his attention continued to draw back at Dyna.

  Her light—what did it mean? Did the Prince’s blood do more than heal her? In the alley, Zev had no way of locating her scent. She had been lost to them until Cassiel found her. On instinct, he said. There would be a time to ask about that later.

  They reached the Kazer Bluffs. The cliff face rose high, a dominating presence casting a wide shadow over the loch. From what Zev had studied on the map, the bluffs were near the midway point of the kingdom. It was the last southern landmark before the Azure King’s castle in The Blue Capitol.

  It was an odd feeling being so far away from all that he knew, but nothing at all compelled him to go back. The journey had been set in risk from the beginning, and danger was imminent now that Dyna was a target, but Zev no longer had doubts about the Prince. He now knew Cassiel would fiercely protect her after seeing what he’d done to get her back.

  The Prince remained close to the raft during the long swim. His cool, unwavering gaze remained on her and the elf.

  “Ask your questions if you must,” Lord Norrlen said as he rowed.

  Zev nodded to Cassiel. He would have to speak for them both.

  “Why were you in Corron?”

  “I went in search of a courier to deliver a letter,” Rawn said.

  “A letter for whom?”

  “To my—” Rawn whipped his head to the left as an arrow zipped past his nose.

  Zev snarled and Cassiel swore. A group of men stood at the peak of the Kazer Bluffs. Their faces were masked in the sun’s low blaze at their backs. Another sat upon a horse, cloak fluttering in the breeze. A girl accompanied him. Tresses of long black hair streamed from beneath her hood. She raised her bow and nocked another arrow.

  They were too far down the loch for any normal archer to hit their target. Zev calculated they were over two-hundred yards away, yet she had nearly taken the elf’s head. The current was carrying them farther still.

  She aimed, sunlight glinting off the arrowhead. The twang of the bowstring echoed in his ears. The arrow hit the water beside them with a soft plunk. Her skill had reached its limit.

  Lord Norrlen removed his bow and drew an arrow from his quiver in one swift movement. He let it loose. All was still, the breeze and rustle of the forest muted as the arrow zipped away. It flew true through the air and found its mark, piercing the archer’s chest. She fell flat without so much as a scream. The men were unmoving for only a moment before two of them took the fallen body and dragged it away.

  How had he made such an impressive shot?

  The horse rider dismounted in no rush and casually withdrew his sword. It couldn’t be for combat when they were so far out of reach. Rawn dropped his bow and withdrew his weapon. The hooded adversary spoke. The wind muffled the foreign words, but Zev recognized the elvish language and realized who confronted them now.

  Captain Elon, the boy had called him. Their second-in-command worth one-hundred men.

  The familiar tug of Essence prickled against Zev as it churned in the atmosphere. The way it did when Dyna was gathering her power, but this was different. Stronger. Violent. A vivid blue spark sprouted from the captain’s hands and wrapped the blade in a crackling swath of blue electricity.

  Cassiel’s eyes grew wide. “What spell is that?”

  “Anadaug Luza,” Rawn said, his jaw c
lenching. “The Blue Scythe.”

  Cassiel threw himself on the raft, rocking it unsteadily as he tried to grab Dyna. “Give her to me!”

  “Be calm,” Rawn said. He planted his feet and raised his sword. Sunlight kissed the edge. Not once did he look away from the hooded figure. Opponent set and match. “Come.”

  Captain Elon swung his sword. Magic exploded from the blade in an arc, speeding for them in a blinding inferno. There was no place to run, no place to hide. They were dead in the water.

  Zev’s mind went quiet for once. The Madness had no response to this.

  Rawn parried the Blue Scythe, and it rebounded off his weapon with a crack of thunder. The spell returned the way it came and crashed into the bluffs with an ear-splitting boom. The Raiders shouted and scrambled back as the cliffside crumbled beneath their feet. Chunks of solid rock crashed onto the bank of the loch.

  A massive, smoking crevice marred the Kazer Bluffs as if a giant had taken to it with an ax.

  “How … how did you do that?” Cassiel asked, gawking at Rawn.

  “My sword is enchanted to dissipate magic,” he said, “or rather, in this case, reflect it.”

  Captain Elon made no more attempts to attack, watching the current carry them away. His faint voice reached Zev, as he imagined it had reached Rawn. “Lord Norrlen, we shall meet again.”

  Rawn sheathed his sword. He retrieved the rod and steered the raft with no further acknowledgment.

  Zev and Cassiel stared at him, then at each other, equally speechless. Whatever the boy had said about Captain Elon, they may have met someone who was worth much more.

  Chapter 43

  Von

  The night chill was as cruel and unrelenting as the quiet wrath rolling off Tarn’s presence. Von braced himself where he stood at the center of the dark camp, stripped to his trousers. Geon shivered beside him, huddling his scrawny arms to his bare chest.

  The firelight from the torches staked into the ground shone on the grim Raiders who had gathered to witness. A requirement during lashings. Benton wore a gleeful smile. Dalton and Clayton stood with him, their umber robes swaying in a passing gust. Elon and Bouvier lingered in the shadows as still as ghosts.

  Geon flinched at the sound of the whip unfurling to the ground behind them.

  “I will take the lads lashings, Master,” Von said.

  “No.” The boy stood erect, clenched fists shaking at his sides, with all the bravery he could muster.

  “Kneel,” Tarn said, his voice set with a dreadful calm.

  Von and Geon lowered to their knees. The dirt coated his palms layered in sweat. He dug his fingers deep, burying them against the bite of sharp rocks.

  “You cost me twenty-two assets. Twenty-two lashings you will receive.”

  Twenty Raiders plus the pendant and the Maiden.

  But the true punishment was for failing at his mission. Failure was never an option. Failure got you killed. But Von would gladly accept this instead. He was ready.

  His back was thick and tough from the many scars that already layered it. He’d been nineteen summers old since his last lashing, but it was a pain he would never forget.

  The snap of the whip cracked through the air.

  The leather slashed Von’s back, carving through his flesh as it tore free. He bit his tongue to hold in his cry. The whip snapped again and Geon’s scream pierced the wind.

  One—for Juvo, a lad from Argyle who loved to drink and sing.

  The whip ripped through Von a second time.

  Two—for Sygne, an old grouch who whistled like a hundred different birds.

  The whip cracked so loudly against Von’s spine his ears rang, all sound briefly muffled.

  Three—for Xeran, who had been saving every coin that fell in his hands for his mother’s freedom.

  With each slit into his back, Von recalled the names and faces of each Raider who fell in Corron. Their loss weighed on him. He was their commander. They had trusted him, and he had taken them to the slaughter.

  An icy breeze passed over them, but it did nothing to numb the agony of his skin slashed to shreds. Blood leaked down his back, soaking into his trousers. He clenched his teeth, his shaking fists grinding into pebbles on the ground. It took all he had not to scream in front of his men. Even during this disgrace, he would not show weakness.

  Von focused on the droplets of blood in the dirt, trying to force the torment out of his mind. Geon had no such discipline. He screamed and wailed as the whip cut into him. Von grit his teeth. He should have never brought the lad into this life.

  Tarn continued to whip them until Geon’s arms gave out, and he fell, unconscious. Von’s limbs trembled, his vision stinging from the sweat leaking into his eyes.

  “You failed me, Von.” Tarn’s words were like shards of ice threatening to slit his throat. “Never have I been so disgusted with you.”

  “Forgive me, Master,” he garbled.

  Tarn tossed the bloody whip aside. Von counted his steps as he walked away. He waited until Tarn entered his tent before collapsing. The Raiders gathered around.

  “Take them,” Elon ordered.

  Dalton cast his orange Essence over Geon and lifted him into the air. Olsson, a dark robust man hoisted Von onto his broad shoulders. He drifted in and out of consciousness as he was carried away, trailed by a procession of Raiders.

  He jerked back to consciousness at the call of Yavi’s name. They had brought him to his tent. There was a rush of running steps and she appeared at Olsson’s side. Her wet eyes widened in horror. Von faintly smiled at her. He had not seen Yavi when he first awoke. It mattered not what punishment he had to endure. He was with her again. He was alive.

  “Bring them inside.” She held open the tent flaps. Olsson carried Von to one of the cots, laying him face down. Dalton lowered Geon onto the other cot and released his Essence. The Raiders squeezed into the tent and hovered around them. Elon remained at the entryway.

  Yavi hissed at the sight of their wounds. Von imagined the skin had swollen in ridges along the bloody slits crisscrossing on their backs in gruesome trails.

  “Gord,” she barked at the stout Raider across from her. “Tell Sorren I need a bottle of his strongest rum for the commander. And you—” she pointed at the reedy man next to him, “—bring me a pot of boiled water.”

  They gaped at her, unused to a slave giving them orders.

  “Go!” she snapped. They rushed out.

  Yavi rummaged in the trunk then took out clean rags and a jar of salve. The two Raiders returned with their items and set them down beside her.

  Yavi pulled the cork out of the brown bottle of rum and held it to Von’s lips. “Please drink, Master.”

  Von almost laughed at the title. She had to refer to him as such in front of others, but it was odd to hear. He drank as much as he could. She washed her hands with some rum, then stuck a strip of thick leather between his teeth.

  “Hold him,” Yavi said.

  Four Raiders knelt by Von’s cot and grasped his legs and shoulders. He sucked in a breath, and she poured the rum over his wounds. Fire coursed across his back in a rising wave of torment. He stifled his screams through the leather, convulsing from the excruciating agony. A couple more Raiders joined in holding him down.

  Yavi dipped a clean rag in the pot of steaming water and gently washed his wounds. Each stroke was as though she was flaying him alive. Bloody pools formed on the mat beneath the cot. Someone gave Von another drink of rum. He gripped the cot, and his jaw grew numb from how tight he clenched his teeth over the leather. Sweat beaded on his face. His senses dulled and his eyes drooped closed, but each stroke beat sleep away.

  When Yavi finished, she took out a big glob of salve from the jar and slathered it over his wounds. After the initial pain, it cooled against his pulsing skin, easing some discomfort. “Dalton, lift him if you please.”

  The young mage cast his Essence over Von. The orange hue surrounded his body with a warm electrifying power t
hat raised him a few feet off the cot. Yavi washed his upper body, arms, and neck. Then, she took the roll of dressings and carefully wrapped them over his back and around his torso.

  “What happened?” Yavi asked the men as she worked, and they all burst out in an illegible muddle. “Captain Elon?”

  “The Guardians of the Maiden defeated them,” he reported. He was not one to mince words.

  “Commander Von was unconscious when we found him,” Olssen’s deep tenor filled the tent. “We couldn’t wake him.”

  “No, you would not have been able to do so,” Dalton retorted. “He was under a comatose spell. Father had to remove it first.”

  “He was under a spell? I wasn’t aware the current Guardians could use magic.”

  When the sorceress had touched Von’s forehead, she tossed him into a black void. It was like falling into an endless sleep with no dreams. Next thing he knew he was looking up at his master’s cold eyes.

  “Then we found the bodies,” Gord said faintly, his eyes wide and haunted. “Some had been reduced to ash, and others were mauled to death. They tore out Lieutenant Abenon’s throat.”

  Yavi covered her mouth.

  The Raider beside Gord shuddered. “The Guardians are ruthless. The elf took out Len with a shot from three hundred yards away.”

  Yavi gasped, and Von jolted in alarm. Len was killed? How? When? He realized she had not been among the witnesses. Neither had Novo.

  “Captain?” he croaked, but it was more of an indiscernible gurgle.

  “We met them at the Kazer Bluffs,” Elon said. “Rawn Norrlen has joined their company. His skill with a bow is unparalleled.”

  “Len is dead?” Yavi asked shakily, her eyes glistening with tears.

  “No. She wore armor.”

  “Oh!” Yavi slumped, a hand flying to her heart. She glared at the expressionless elf and the laughing men. “I don’t find that the least amusing. You’re terrible, the lot of you.”