Alliance Forged (25 page)

Insides churning, he ignored Kalan’s repeated hails. He hurried around them to Varian. The
Na’Chi
leader had his opponent in a headlock. With a deep-throated growl, and a vicious twist, he snapped his neck and dropped the body to the ground. Arek grasped a handful of his leather vest and pulled him to his feet.

“Get everyone out of here. Now, before it’s too late.” He reinforced the order with a shove, then dodged in front of him, sword already swinging to block the
Na’Reish
warrior bearing down on them.

Arek widened his stance as their swords clashed and grunted as the blow jarred his shoulder. He swept the other sword blade in low, felt it bite deep into the demon’s leg. The seven-foot warrior howled, knee buckling. One large fist lashed out. The blow caught the side of his head. Arek staggered. He lost his grip on one sword.

A
Na’Chi
war cry rang out.

The one indicating retreat.

Head ringing, he forced himself upright. Another
Na’Reish
warrior came at him. A huge broadsword arced overhead. He leapt back to avoid being cleft in two, then caught sight of Varian. The
Na’Chi
finished off another opponent on the opposite side of the clearing. The warrior disappeared into a shadowed stand of saplings, the last to leave.

Lady
protect them.
A deep-seated calmness filled Arek.
And guide me on my Final Journey.
The second
Na’Hord
unit was seconds from overrunning the clearing.

“Don’t let them escape!” The roared order came from somewhere to his left.

Arek pivoted to face yet another adversary. He blocked one more arm-numbing blow. Something slammed into him from behind. The impact of hitting the ground drove the breath from his lungs. Another massive fist swung at him.

It hit.

Everything exploded in a ball of light. He lost his grip on his sword.

Darkness overwhelmed him.

“C
OUNCILOR Elamm, welcome.” Kymora held open the wooden door to her apartment. She pasted on a polite smile.

Lady
forgive her the lack of a genuine response, but a frisson of disapproval mixed with self-importance already radiated from the older woman’s aura. What irked her more was that the Councilor made no effort to hide it.

Since being appointed to the Blade Council, Elamm’d taken to meeting weekly with her to discuss the Temple’s involvement with community projects. All well and fine if the Councilor’s intentions were sincere, but there was an element of political ambition souring her deeds. And during Council business, the woman seemed to take a perverse pleasure in pointing out the negative of any issue.

A potent and off-putting combination that tested Kymora’s patience every time she had to deal with the woman.

“Please come in.” She kept her smile firmly in place. “I’ve prepared a pot of tea. Would you like a cup before we begin our meeting?”

“
Temple Elect
, that sounds like a wonderful idea.” The older
woman’s voice was deep, full bodied, the vowels in her words heavily rounded by a provincial drawl. “It’s been a hectic day visiting with the refugee families. Most of them had to leave their belongings behind when they abandoned their homes. They just didn’t have the means to transport everything. So I’ve approached the Weavers Guild to organize a schedule for making and supplying necessities such as blankets and clothes to these families.”

“With winter approaching, they’re going to need those essential items,” Kymora agreed.

As the Councilor moved into the room Kymora used for official private meetings, a light floral scent tickled Kymora’s nose.

“Have you also been chatting with Master Gardener Pel?”

Rich laughter accompanied the sound of her guest’s footsteps to the table in the middle of the room. “He and I have a mutual interest in propagating Keri-blossoms. I’ve asked him to grow several dozen for my private garden.”

Several dozen? A little self-indulgent on her part, and more than a little time consuming for the Master Gardner, especially now, considering the number of crops he needed to plant and care for that would help feed the refugee families the Councilor professed to have such concern for. But she resisted pointing that out.

“The blossoms do have the sweetest scent.” Kymora joined her and reached for the small metal kettle she’d set there earlier. “The incense he makes from the petals for the Temple is one of the most popular used by the worshippers as an offering to the
Lady
.”

With a careful hand, she poured two cups of tea. The heat from the steam rising from the water helped her gauge when to stop.

“I thought you’d appreciate
Yasri
-tea. It’s a blend of sweet citrus combined with an aftertaste of mint.” She pushed one cup toward the older woman, then took a seat before cradling her own. “Quite refreshing for this time of day.”

After a delicate sniff, the Councilor’s sigh was appreciative. Kymora masked her smile behind the edge of her cup, knowing she’d made the right choice. Elamm’s love of fine teas originated from her home province. The farmers there were suppliers for the best-quality herbs traded and sold within human territory.

“It’s nice to have someone else appreciate a good tea and the right time to drink it.” A quiet sip, then the cup knocked against the wood as she placed it on the table. “
Temple Elect
, as much as I’m enjoying this, I’m aware that your time is precious, so perhaps we could discuss the reason for my visit?”

Her aura was sharper, humming with resolve and determination.

“Please, call me Kymora, Councilor.”

“Then call me Jho.” She affected a soft sigh. “I’m not sure how to broach this….”

Lady of Light
, she sounded so sincere in her concern. It set her teeth on edge, but Kymora waited, gripping the sides of her teacup tightly, and tried to savor the steamy aroma.

“There’s some concern… from a number of parties… that you seem to be neglecting your duties as Sacred Lake’s priestess,” she murmured.

“Neglecting my duties?”

“That’s the impression.” The woman’s tone was heavier, her drawl more pronounced. “Rest assured, I don’t think that for a moment. But I thought it important you know I’ve been approached by… some… who’ve expressed these concerns. On several occasions, and in… shall we say… an increasingly vocal fashion.”

Kymora resisted rolling her eyes and instead searched her memories for whom the Councilor mixed with socially. She enjoyed the company of several influential city leaders, some of the minor Guild-masters, and the other Blade Councilors.

“In what areas have I been tardy, did they tell you?” she asked.

“Well, they’re concerned that in your absence you delegated almost all of your duties to your head Servant, Sartor.”

The woman’s aura pulsed with a tightness Kymora recognized.

“He’s more than capable of handling those responsibilities.” She set her cup aside and leaned forward. It was time to get to the heart of the matter. “I’d appreciate your honest opinion, Jho. Was it the delegation of responsibility or because I was living with the
Na’Chi
for almost four months?”

“The latter.”

“Thank you.” She reached for the kettle and topped up her cup. “Another?”

“Yes. This conversation merits at least two cups.”

“It’s more like a four or five, I’d say,” she replied, unable to disguise her dry tone. Again,
Lady
forgive her lack of tolerance.

The Councilor’s laughter seemed forced. “Indeed.” She inhaled a deeper breath. “You’re taking this well, considering.”

“I’m not dismissing your concerns, Jho, or those held by those you’ve mentioned.” Kymora tapped her fingernail on the edge of her cup while keeping her tone modulated. Reason not emotion was the wiser path. “The truth is I don’t know that there’s much I can do to allay them. I’m back in Sacred Lake, and with the
Na’Chi
now among us, there’s no need to delegate. I’ve taken over the majority of my responsibilities again. Sartor has returned to his tutoring position with the acolytes.” She splayed one hand outward in a half gesture. “Perhaps given a little more time, these people will see I continue to honor my oath to the
Lady
.”

The older woman cleared her throat. “Maybe if you spend a little less time among the
Na’Chi…”

Kymora sat back in her seat, frowning. “Jho, the
Lady
has claimed the
Na’Chi
as her own. They’re as much a part of my realm of responsibility as any human.” Another sip of tea didn’t help calm her temper.
She took a slow breath. “My suggestion would be to remind those concerned of the
Lady’s
words. No offense intended, Councilor, but while I know bringing their concerns to me is part of your work, I’d encourage them to talk with me.”

“I did inform them of that option,” the woman hastened to assure her. “But if the occasion arises, I’ll certainly remind them again. Thank you for your understanding and guidance,
Temple Elect
. At least now you’re aware of the concerns going around and can address them appropriately.” Again her aura thrummed with self-importance, as if satisfied that she’d reminded Kymora of her duty and moral obligations. “Now, with that little bit of unpleasantness over, shall we enjoy another cup of tea?”

Turn the other cheek… tolerance and patience bring their own re-wards.

Kymora recited the verse of scripture over and over as she poured them both another cup, and while the discussion moved on to a more neutral topic, the recent Summer’s End Festival, her attention turned inward.

Why hadn’t she been approached directly by these friends of the Councilor? Of greater concern, how many others considered her absence a dereliction of duty? The unprecedented decision to live with the
Na’Chi
had been taken to alleviate concerns not create them. Were the comments genuine or just Elamm and her close circle of friends taking advantage of their status with her?

Or could these concerns be generated by those sympathetic to Davyn and the renegade movement? Were they manipulating Elamm for their own purposes? What were they hoping to achieve?

An icy shiver worked its way up Kymora’s spine as she swallowed the last of her tea. The last supposition didn’t bear thinking about, but after the attack on the
Na’Chi
village, nothing could be dismissed or assumed as impossible.

A visit to the Temple was in order. It was time to seek the
Lady’s
guidance.

VARIAN pulled on the reins of his war-beast, slowing its pace until it came to a stop, then he swiveled in the saddle to peer along their back trail. He ignored the rivulet of sweat trickling down the side of his face, more concerned with the possibility of being followed than any minor discomfort.

The other five mounts with their riders and passengers drew alongside. The few crofters who’d escaped with them sat down underneath the tree nearest them. With their village destroyed, they would join the refugees being billeted at Sacred Lake. What had happened to the others, no one knew, but it was very likely they’d been recaptured.

Taybor cradled a semiconscious Kalan in front of him. His strength alone kept the human leader in the saddle. No one spoke; their tense expressions mirrored his.

No snapping of bushes, no thud of pursuing footsteps, no battle cries. Other than the irritated chatter of a winged-
hobaan
scolding them for intruding in its territory, the forest remained peaceful and quiet. All its odors natural and clean.

His gambit of retreating through the forest had paid off. With Kalan’s wound so deep, bleeding out had been a certainty in a prolonged run across the open plains. Blood needed time to clot. He’d sacrificed speed for stealth to save the
Chosen’s
life.

“Zaune, Jinnae, check our back trail,” he murmured. The two scouts slid from their beasts. “Go as far as the last creek, then cover our tracks.”

With a nod, the scouts disappeared into the shadows.

Retreat, rest, camouflage. A process they’d repeated for the past two hours.

“We’ll let the war-beasts take a break for a few minutes.” Varian dared to glance at the second saddle behind him. The empty space ate at his gut. The image of Arek taking on and falling beneath a wave of
Na’Reish
warriors was burned in his mind like a slave-tattoo. He couldn’t shake it or the guilt of having left him behind. He squeezed the reins until the leather squeaked in protest.

Beneath his skin, from deep within, the darkness of his other half fought to emerge, a predator straining to get free. With the amount of adrenaline still coursing through his veins, he had little doubt his eyes still glowed with battle rage. A silent growl vibrated in his chest.

“How’s the
Chosen
?” His voice was so gravelly and deep each word came out distorted.

“Stable.” Taybor’s violet gaze met his. “The scent of his blood isn’t fresh. The ride hasn’t reopened the wound.”

“I’ll live.” The hoarse statement vibrated with raw pain. How much of it came from the wound or with dealing with the loss of his best friend, Varian could only guess.

“Commander.” One of the Light Blade warriors leaned forward in the saddle. “Let me go back and search for Arek.”

Varian flinched, his gut coiling and writhing like a night-winder caught out in the midday sun. The dark beast inside him roared in favor of the suggestion. It wanted to return to the clearing and seek vengeance for the loss of a good warrior.

“I’ll go with Larn.” The lone female Light Blade’s voice shook. “The Second may still be alive.”

The odds were slim. He resisted voicing the thought. They all knew the chances. Acknowledging it aloud would only antagonize the humans and add to their pain.

And his.

“You honor the Second with your loyalty.” Again his words came out warped.

The Light Blades shifted in their saddle along with the crofters;
all shared uncertain glances among themselves. He wrestled to control his darker emotions, but it was like trying to trap a wild
lira
. They kept slipping and darting through his mind, avoiding any leash he cast out to contain them.