The Nivaka Chronicles Boxed Set

by Leslie E Heath

  Aibek’s hands flew to his throat, struggling to find purchase in the fabric stretched across his neck. The veins in his neck and face bulged, and he gasped for air. Fighting panic, Aibek thought back to his training at the academy, though that was ages ago, and the lessons on how to free himself from this kind of attack. He let himself go limp, breaking the brute’s grip on his shirt and restoring blood flow to his head. On hands and knees, he paused for a breath, then shoved to his feet, his fist connecting with his assailant’s unprotected gut.

  Teige grunted but gave no other sign that the blow had affected him.

  Without giving the brute time to recover, Aibek dropped and swung his leg around, connecting with Arrdun’s knees. The smaller man dropped like a tree, crashing into the wall and knocking an unlit wall sconce to the floor. In one fluid motion, Aibek switched legs and swung in the opposite direction, attempting to knock Teige’s legs out from under him. If he could get both men down, he could escape to his own room. Instead, blinding pain shot through Aibek’s injured right leg as it buckled. Clutching at his thigh, he crumpled to the floor.

  Arrdun’s husky, humorless laugh echoed down the hall as the man’s broad form filled Aibek’s vision.

  “What’s this? I’d heard a rumor the poor mayor got hurt. Could it be true?” He laughed again as he drew back and delivered a punishing kick to Aibek’s ribs.

  Head spinning, Aibek rolled to his hands and knees. He had to get up. He couldn’t defend himself from the floor.

  Pain throbbed in his leg and his ribs as he forced himself upright. Could he talk his way out of this again?

  He drew a breath to speak, but only made a faint whooshing sound as a fist plowed into his belly, pushing all the air from his lungs. Aibek doubled over, bracing his hands on his knees and panting.

  As the breath returned to his lungs, searched for any opportunity to escape. Instead, he raised his head just as one of Marah’s brothers brought a knee up, connecting with his chin and sending him reeling. Before he could recover, another blow caught him across the cheek. Blood erupted in his mouth and searing pain blinded him. Aibek staggered, stopping when his back rested against the wall.

  Both of Marah’s brothers approached from the right, and Aibek saw his opening. He dashed to the left as quickly as his sore leg could carry him, though his room was the other way. This corridor would lead him to the dining hall, where he had heard the clatter of dishes just a few minutes earlier. Someone there would surely help him.

  Before he had taken five steps, a strong hand grabbed his arm, spinning him back to face his assailants.

  “You didn’t think you were going to get away, did you?” Teige sneered.

  His brother stepped closer, the stench of the wine on his breath stronger now. “We’re not quite done with you yet, Mayor.” He spat the last word as if it tasted rancid, raining spittle over Aibek’s face.

  With a grimace, Aibek wiped his face on his sleeve. His eyes searched the hall for a means of escape darting between his attackers and past them into the darkened corridor.

  There, at the edge of his vision, something moved within the blackness. He caught the faintest flash of light, then it was gone.

  He shouted, trying to get someone’s attention, but the movement didn’t return.

  “Who do you think you’re yelling at?” Arrdun asked, grabbing the front of Aibek’s shirt once more. “There’s no one that’s going to help you, mayor. You should have left my sister alone.”

  Aibek opened his mouth to protest that she had instigated their encounter, then snapped it shut again. Any comment along those lines would only make his situation worse. What could he say? Nothing.

  Instead, he dropped his head forward, bashing his forehead into Arrdun’s bulbous nose and loosing a fountain of blood. At the same time, he brought his knee up into Teige’s groin. His effort paid off, and Teige released his grip on Aibek’s arm.

  Taking advantage of the brothers’ surprise, Aibek dropped and swept his injured leg out, knocking both of his adversaries to the ground.

  He sprung to his feet and limped away toward the dining hall as the clatter of dishes sounded through the corridor again.

  Limping furiously, Aibek moved toward the sound. When he had made it halfway, something hit him hard from behind, knocking him to the floor.

  His forehead crashed into the smooth wood, shooting pain through his skull as a knee pressed into his spine.

  “Nice try, mayor.” Arrdun’s rank breath wafted over Aibek’s face as the pressure on his back increased, pressing his chest down into the wood and squeezing the air from his lungs.

  Before Aibek could respond or figure out a way to get loose, his attacker grabbed his hair, pulling his head backwards. A fist slammed into his temple, and velvet blackness swallowed him.

  2

  Betrayed

  After an eternity of muffled cries, thumps, and crashes, silence fell in the dark corridor. Ahren eased her door open a crack, careful not to make a sound. Peering out into the hall, she strained her eyes into the blackness and searched for any sign of movement. Nothing. The lamp that had lit the hallway earlier had been extinguished at some point, and now only the faintest blush of light from the lobby illuminated the scene. Halfway between her room and the dining hall, a crumpled form lay unmoving on the floor.

  Ahren gasped, rushing out into the hall toward the figure. It had to be Aibek; the brothers wouldn’t have left one of their own like that. Broken glass crunched under her slippers and she slowed, unwilling to risk the glass cutting through the soft fabric into her feet. When she was sure she had cleared the worst of the debris, she paused and brushed a few stubborn shards from the soles of her slippers. Her fingers lingered on the tiny tears in the fabric. She’d just bought these shoes last week, and now they were ruined.

  Sighing, she set her foot back on the floor and stepped toward Aibek. From there, she could see his chest rise and fall. Good. He was breathing. That meant he wasn’t dead. She couldn’t handle another funeral this soon, though he hadn’t really been dead the last time.

  She knelt beside his still form and placed a hand on his shoulder. He was bleeding from a cut on his cheek, and more blood dribbled from his open mouth. Should she roll him over? No, she wasn’t sure how badly he was hurt. Besides, she wasn’t strong enough to move him on her own.

  “What’s happened here?” Wayra’s voice echoed in the silence, startling Ahren.

  She stood up quickly, lost her balance, and stumbled until her shoulder connected with the wall.

  “Wayra! It’s Aibek. Help me get him back into your room.”

  Wayra crept through the broken glass and rushed to Ahren’s side, then bent over and examined Aibek’s bruised face.

  “What happened? Gods! He looks awful. Do you think it’s safe to move him?”

  Shaking her head, Ahren positioned herself on Aibek’s other side. “I don’t think we have a choice. The other guests will wake soon. We can’t have him lying in the hall when they all come out for breakfast. I’ll explain once we have him settled.”

  They worked together to roll Aibek to his back, then braced his shoulders between them and lifted him off the floor. His feet dragged through the shards of glass as they maneuvered him into the room he shared with Wayra.

  Once Aibek was safely settled in his bed, Ahren rushed off in search of the nearest healer. She found Ira in the dining hall, and the young innkeeper directed her to the stone home across from the ferry dock.

  Ahren pulled her cloak tighter against the chill and tried to ignore the sense of betrayal that had hung over her all evening. She’d waited up for Aibek, thinking she’d be able to talk to him before he returned to his room. She’d only wanted to apologize for the way she’d treated him before, but she’d been crushed when that other woman had drawn him into her room. Who was she? Aibek had acted like he knew her at dinner and had danced with her twice, but Ahren hadn’t recognized her.

  The stone house the innkeeper had described
loomed out of the darkness on her left, and Ahren stopped abruptly, nearly stumbling into the bushes as her thoughts broke off. Lifting her skirt, she stepped carefully across the damp stone walkway leading to the door, raised her hand, and rapped on the wood as hard as she could.

  The river churned against the dock behind her, its noise both foreign and unnerving to Ahren as she waited for the healer in the faint blue light of dawn. She didn’t have to wait long before a stooped, graying man opened the door.

  “I need your help! My friend is hurt,” she blurted out before he could speak.

  “Let me get my supplies.” He snapped the door closed in her face, and tears welled up in her eyes.

  She blinked against the tide of emotion and breathed in the crisp morning air. Turning, she let her eyes journey over the massive hull of the ferry docked across from the healer’s home. In the dim light, it moved gently on its moorings, heaving up and down like the breath of a great beast.

  Behind her, the door creaked open. Ahren turned, nodded to the gentleman on the stoop, and stepped down onto the pebbled walk. She didn’t speak as she hurried down the sidewalk, leading him into the inn and straight to Aibek’s door. Wayra answered her knock before she’d lowered her hand, ushering Ahren and the healer into the room and snapping the door shut behind them.

  The unmoving man on the bed drew her attention, and she pushed past Wayra and knelt beside Aibek. His face had swollen more since she’d been gone, but the bleeding had stopped. Wayra had apparently removed his clothes, because his bare shoulders showed above the heavy blanket covering him.

  “Perhaps the lady should step out in the hall while I examine the patient,” the healer said.

  Color rushed into Ahren’s cheeks as she realized the healer would need to see all of Aibek to determine the extent of his injuries.

  “Of course,” she murmured.

  Turning, she ducked her head and retreated into the hall. She paused there for a breath, returned to her room and dressed for the day in a daze. As she dressed, she struggled to keep from waking Zyanna. She could hardly contain her embarrassment when she realized she had made the trip to the healer’s home in her nightclothes. Oh, well. She tied the satin sash around the waist of her new day dress. There was nothing she could do about it now. At least none of the other mayors had been out to see her in such a state.

  * * *

  The curtains couldn’t block enough of the midmorning light to keep it from shooting knives through Aibek’s head, so he rolled over and pulled the blankets over his head. He stayed that way only a breath before the pain in his ribs forced him onto his back, and the heavy down blanket settled over his face, threatening to suffocate him. With a groan, he pulled the covers down to his chest and flung an arm over his eyes to block some of the excruciating light. The movement tugged at the bandage around his chest but was less painful than laying on his side.

  With a creak and a thump, the door flew open. Aibek groaned and burrowed under the blanket.

  “Well, good morning! I thought you’d be up and about by now.” The healer’s voice echoed through the small room, and daggers of pain shot through Aibek’s head.

  Why did he have to be so loud? What was the man’s name? Aibek closed his eyes, unable to think through the pain.

  “How are those ribs doing? I think they’re about the worst of your injuries.”

  Aibek curled his lip at the obnoxious cheer in the healer’s voice. He felt like he’d been trampled by an ox and this man wanted to chatter like a squirrel?

  “Hmph.” Ignoring the pain in his side, Aibek rolled to his stomach and tugged the pillow over his head.

  “Ahh. You have a bit of a headache today? I’m not surprised. You took at least one good hit to the head.” The voice was muffled now, but still seared Aibek’s head like an iron from his uncle’s forge.

  The chair creaked as the healer seated himself, then the covers flew back and Aibek squeezed his eyes shut against the brutal light.

  “I have something that will help.”

  Did he have to be so loud? A foul, rancid odor wafted over him and Aibek retched, rolling to his side to empty his stomach of the broth he’d choked down that morning.

  When he’d wiped his face and steeled himself against the stench, he opened his mouth to speak. He gagged again as the disgusting air filled his mouth, then forced his question out in a hoarse croak.

  “What is that? Tell me you don’t expect me to drink it.”

  The healer laughed, the sound shooting daggers through Aibek’s ears.

  “No, it’s not something you drink. Turn your head. I’m going to apply this to that lump on the side of your head.”

  Frowning, Aibek turned his head toward the healer, presenting the uninjured side of his face.

  The healer - Androu! That was his name.

  Androu chuckled. “Don’t worry. The stink doesn’t last long. Turn your head so I can see the wound.”

  Aibek did as he was told, but he still wasn’t convinced that this “treatment” would work. How was he supposed to believe that something that smelled so bad could relieve him of anything but his breakfast? Regardless, he held still and winced as the cold liquid ran down his scalp and pooled on the pillow. He fought the urge to retch again as the odor engulfed him.

  Focused as he was on not soiling his bed with stomach contents, Aibek didn’t hear the door open behind him.

  “So, how’s the patient?”

  Wayra’s voice startled Aibek and he flipped to face his friend, inadvertently flinging the rancid concoction from his hair all over Wayra and Androu. Wayra gagged and vomited into the bucket beside the bed, while Androu merely wiped his face with his handkerchief.

  Somehow Aibek could still see clearly after the sudden movement, and he smiled.

  “I think it’s starting to work. It doesn’t hurt so bad to talk now.”

  “Wonderful. Take it easy today and eat as much as your stomach can handle. You’ll need plenty of meat to heal. I’ll be back tomorrow morning to see how you’re doing.” Androu moved toward the door, but stopped before he reached it and turned back to face Aibek. “Oh, um… You should probably keep to your room for a few days until the swelling on your face goes down a bit. You’re not exactly pretty to look at.”

  Chagrined, Aibek stood and positioned himself before the looking glass, then shook his head at the reflection. His face was a mass of bruises and lumps, though the swelling over his eye had gone down enough that he could at least open it now.

  “Those men messed up your pretty face,” Wayra said, walking up behind him. “You think your girl will mind?”

  Startled, Aibek spun to face his friend, the sudden movement pulling at his ribs and shooting pain through his chest.

  “What rumors have you heard? Whatever they are, they’re not true.”

  Wayra threw his hands up. “Woah. Slow down. It’s not a rumor. Someone saw you come out of the girl’s room and get jumped by her brothers, that’s all.”

  Aibek lowered himself into a chair by the fire and cradled his head in his hands. He had hoped no one had seen anything. Her reputation would be ruined.

  “It’s not that bad. I’ve been able to keep it quiet,” Wayra said. “As far as I can tell, everyone believes that you’ve fallen ill and are staying in your room so you don’t spread your illness.”

  Silence fell. Aibek worried about how the mayors and their guests would react to his bruised and battered face. He’d have to come up with some story about falling in the dark or something. Anything to keep suspicions off of Marah.

  Oh, no. Marah! How was she taking his absence? What if she thought he was avoiding her after their one stolen night?

  “We’ll have to come up with a story for your face, though.” Wayra’s words brought Aibek back to the present and closely echoed Aibek’s own concern. “What if we tell them you got dizzy and fell into the table or something. That works with you being sick. Plus, the healer’s been here every day so that works, too.”
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br />   Leaning back in the chair, Aibek closed his eyes groaned.

  “You’ll have to do something about that stench, though,” Wayra said with a laugh. “No one will believe that’s supposed to heal an illness.”

  They laughed together until lunchtime, enjoyed their meal, and Aibek settled in for a nap until dinner.

  Aibek hid in his room for the next three days, thankful that his friends brought him food and kept him company. By the fourth day, the walls closed in, and he couldn’t bear the thought of another day in the tiny room. Besides, he needed to know if word had gotten out. How was Marah doing after everything that had happened? Did she regret their night together? His mind had gone in endless circles for days, and he needed answers.

  When the sun had reached midway to it’s peak, he bathed and dressed, determined to find Marah and make sure he hadn’t made her life more difficult. The Grand Council meeting would be the next day, so he had very little time to make sure she was all right.

  He kept his head low as he emerged from his room and made his way to the tavern. Inside the large room, he spotted Wayra, Zyanna, and Ahren at a table in the far corner and made his way to them. Ahren smiled as he approached, and Aibek straightened his spine.

  “It’s good to see you out and about,” Ahren said with a huge grin. “You had us worried for a while.”

  Grinning back despite himself, Aibek replied, “Thanks. I think I had myself worried, too.”

  “You’re looking much better,” Wayra said. “Much less likely to scare the children, now.”

  Laughter filled the air as Aibek seated himself at the table.

  “I’m starving. What’s for lunch?” Aibek laid his napkin on his lap and looked around for the innkeeper or his wife so he could order.

  “We ordered for you; I hope that’s all right,” Zyanna said, a soft smile on her face. “Wayra thought you’d be hungry.”

  Returning her smile, Aibek nodded. “That’s very thoughtful of you. Thank you.”

  He hadn’t gotten to know Zyanna as much as he would have liked over the past year, but she’d been busy having a baby and then raising it beyond the newborn stage. The girl had learned to crawl, making her more difficult to corral, and had stayed with her grandparents while Zyanna made the trip to Kainga.