DreamReaper_Blood of Kaos Series Book II

by Nesa Miller

  “It’s merely a show of support. I want you…” She licked her lips again, “to win.” Batting her eyelashes, she added, “It would be rude to refuse.”

  Hearing his name called, he pulled away. “I have to go or they will not let me compete.”

  “Luck is with you, handsome. My scarf compliments your gloves.” Zysha blew him a kiss.

  “They are not my gloves,” he muttered, turning toward the arena. With his first step, a sharp pinch to his buttocks caused him to turn his head. A gratuitous foot slipped out from the crowd, tripping him up, causing the High Lord to stumble forward.

  Wolfe, Elfin, and the others laughed. “I feel so underdressed,” someone shouted.

  “Nice ensemble, High Lord,” another laughed.

  More teasing drifted his way as he righted himself and stormed across the ring.

  “Damn woman,” Dar muttered.

  Zysha called out, “After you show them how to fight, I’ll show you how to celebrate.”

  More laughter broke out when Dar stumbled into Wolfe. “Tartarus.” He glared at the two. “I swear, if either of you say anything about this to Etain, I will gut you both like river trout.”

  They did their best not to laugh, zipping their mouths shut and throwing away the key.

  “I have a plan for this little contest. If we work as a team, we should take most of them out, leaving the three of us to decide who will be the Grand Master. From what I hear, it’s time someone other than the Royal Guard takes the honor.”

  “Aye. It’s been a long time coming,” Elfin said.

  “But when it’s just us three…,” Wolfe said, “no more alliance. May the best warrior win.”

  The three moved around the arena until they found a suitable spot, standing together and facing the other participants. Wolfe and Elfin drew their swords and took defensive positions on either side of Dar.

  “Let them come to you, tire themselves out. The rest should be easy,” Dar said.

  Bright sunshine illuminated the dais from which the queen commanded her audience, welcoming all to the gathering of the Blade Masters. With the promise of a warm day, she wore a gown of green, accented by a sash of sparkling gemstones sitting just beneath her breasts. The fabric shimmered in the light, like the waters of the southern seas. For today’s festivities, she wore a tiara that matched her sash, the fire of each gem sparkling against her rich auburn tresses. Accolades and best wishes flooded over the combatants.

  Raising her hand, the gong sounded, starting the competition. Dar’s trio formed a tight circle, back-to-back. Protected on either side by Wolfe and Elfin, his handicap became a mere inconvenience. The pain from his broken fingers faded and merged with the spin of his blades and spurred him on, hitting hard and fast.

  Steel on steel reverberated through the arena, turning it into a small battlefield. Booted feet lunged, while others fell back. One warrior spun and struck as her opponent blocked. Factions formed to weed out the weaker warriors.

  Dar took a hit, but a well-placed kick to the belly sent his attacker out of the ring, thus disqualifying him.

  Wolfe yelled, elbowing his comrades. “Duck!”

  All three dropped at the same time just as a barrage of claymores flew over their heads. They glanced at each other, grinned, and rose up, their swords crossed overhead. In a single step, they slashed down and out. With a twist of each wrist, their blades came up, then down again, stabbing forward. The claymores, being the heavier blades, could not match the speed at which the lighter swords moved, their wielders soon found themselves on the wrong side of the qualification barrier.

  A swirling breeze blowing into the arena cooled the sweat on the brows of flushed warriors, churning the dust beneath their feet. Onlookers cheered with every successful hit delivered by a favorite, cursing with every miss. Vendors passed through the crowd, hawking a variety of refreshments and souvenirs.

  As the numbers in the ring began to dwindle, the trio’s circle loosened slightly. They ventured farther away from one another to achieve individual victories, yet remained close enough to group together should a united force come against them. Each experienced cuts and bruises, but nothing serious enough to slow them down.

  The fight raged until the ones left could be counted on two hands: Dar, Wolfe, Elfin, three Royal Guards, and two shield maidens. Dar volunteered to face the women, leaving his accomplices to deal with the Royal Guards.

  Dar turned with confidence. With a respectful bow of his head, he made his introduction. “I am Dar VonNeshta. I am here to take the title of Grand Master.” He twirled his swords. “Will you dance the blades with me?”

  “The Silent Warrior,” said one maiden, impressed.

  “In some cases.”

  The other bravely stepped forward. Dressed in armor of red leather, amber eyes peered out from her matching helm. “I am Illiana. I seek the title of Grand Mistress. I would dance with the devil to take the game.”

  Dar looked her up and down. “You are not an elf.”

  “Good eye, High Lord,” she smirked, lifting her chin high.

  The elf maiden, dressed in the deep blue armor of the dark elves, made her introduction. “I am Myanis. I seek the title of Grand Mistress. I, too, am ready to dance, although it hardly seems fair that we are two and you are only one. Shall we wait for your friends?”

  Self-assured, Dar lifted the tip of one blade and tilted the other over his head. “Where would the fun be in that?” A small trail of blood trickled down one of his wrists from inside his glove. The women exchanged subtle eye and hand signals, ignorant of the fact that the Silent Warrior was as well-versed with the hand code as they, if not better. “Let’s dance.”

  “Shall we see how silent you are in defeat?” Illiana called out as her sword searched for an opening.

  Across the ring, Wolfe and Elfin quickly eliminated one of the guards, then traded turns against the other two. While one parried and jabbed, the other watched the maidens work in perfect harmony against Dar. Their blades came in from every angle, their attacks relentless.

  Dar backed away and waited. To the seasoned warrior, their pattern of attack was obvious, but he knew he’d have to take several blows to land a few of his own. With the left sword, he jutted out toward Myanis and, as expected, took a hit from Illiana. Dar met her blade with his right. His blade traveled the length of hers, coming up to deflect a blow from Myanis, and followed through with his left. Illiana blocked the attack. The women worked together, pushing the man back.

  Dar understood their strategy. His arms snapped out, one to the left, one to the right. The side of one blade slapped Illiana on her side, while he brought the other up, deflecting another hit from Myanis.

  Anger blazed in Illiana’s eyes. “Dirty play, High Lord.”

  “Were it dirty, you would be in pieces.” Those eyes were familiar, but he didn’t have time to figure out why.

  Taking advantage of Dar’s distraction, Myanis ran at him, slamming into him. Caught by surprise, the impact carried enough force to push the big man back a step. Shaking off her pain, Illiana joined her cohort, pushing Dar closer toward the edge of the ring. Dar dug his boots into the dirt, leveraging his powerful legs against the double steam engines, cursing at himself for letting down his guard. At last, they came to a stop. Myanis peered over his shoulder. Dar’s rear foot rested just inside the outer edge of the disqualification line.

  Ready to finish the game, he reared his head back, bashing her on the side of her forehead. She staggered back. Illiana danced away before he could move against her, slicing her blade through the air. Dar dropped to one knee and reversed the grip of his blades. A loud crack echoed when the hilts connected with the armor protecting her rib cage. As her blade passed over his head, Myanis’ blade whipped down, connecting with Illiana’s. Hearing the weapons collide, Dar rolled out of the way, coming up with a boot to Myanis’ backside, sending her out of the ring, then turned to Illiana, who was lying on the ground. The tip of his sword at her t
hroat, he said, “Yield.”

  Her bloody grin faded into a grimace. “It appears to be the only option.”

  “Aye, unless you can pick yourself up and raise your blade.”

  “Give me a day or two.” She took in a slow breath. “Then maybe we can discuss it.”

  Dar chuckled. “Is that a yield?” She groaned and painfully raised two fingers in assent. He removed the blade from her neck. “You fought well, milady.”

  “Not well enough.” Her hand fell to her side. “We’ll meet another day, High Lord, and I won’t fall so easily.”

  “I hope not.” After a bow, he turned to Wolfe and Elfin. “Let’s do this.”

  No sooner had the words left his mouth than the two came at him. Their blades dipped and slashed from both sides. With a mighty swing of a black blade, Dar shattered the sword in Wolfe’s hand, leaving a razor-like point. Turning to block Elfin’s attack, he heard his name called. Zysha laughed as she pulled up the skirt of her dress, exposing far more flesh than decorum allowed.

  Elfin laughed. “Someone’s anxious. Shall we end this now so you can get down to real business?”

  “Boy…” Dar led with his right, “watch out, or I’ll send her to your room.”

  “O-ho!” He blocked the move. “Threats, is it?”

  Dar swung up with his left. “No. That’s a promise.”

  Again, his name came from the crowd. This time, there were promises of a good time and lack of sleep. Dar turned, fire in his eyes. Elfin pressed the advantage and knocked the distracted warrior on the head with the side of his blade. Black spots danced before Dar’s eyes. Wolfe slammed the side of his broken blade into Dar, which doubled him over, his black blades slipping to the ground. Wolfe grinned at him.

  A rush of inspiration had the Krymerian grabbing the scarf from his own neck and wrapping it around the neck of his opponent, pulling it tighter and tighter until the man could no longer breathe. When Wolfe dropped to his knees, Dar picked him up by the seat of his pants and tossed him out of the ring. The Krymerian spun into a crouch, only having time to retrieve one blade before Elfin charged in with a flurry of blows that pushed him back. His dogged attack allowed Dar no time to plan his retreat. With one last step, he heard her warning gasp just as he tripped over Illiana. A whoosh of air rushed from between his lips when he landed in the dirt…outside the barrier of the ring.

  Elfin’s surprised expression matched that of the fallen warrior, but he recovered more quickly. Grinning, he lifted his sword into the air to the cheers from the crowd, relishing in the adoration as he strutted within the circle. Flat on his back, Dar laughed, amused by the strange twist of fate.

  Zysha rushed over to Dar. “High Lord, you’re wounded.” Her nimble fingers set to work on the buttons of his shirt.

  He swatted her hands away. “It’s nothing. I’m fine.”

  She ignored the rebuke, tugging at his shirt. “I must see how bad it is. You will come home with me so I can look after you properly.”

  Without a word, the High Lord sat up, inadvertently knocking Zysha onto her ass. With a huff, he stood, turned his back on the insufferable woman, and stepped into the arena.

  Still on her back, Illiana struggled to breathe. “Come to finish the job?”

  A boyish grin lit his face, holding out his hand. “I achieved what I set out to do.”

  She hesitated. “Another trick?”

  “It would not be to my advantage this time, milady. We have both lost the prize.”

  She accepted his hand and, with Dar’s support, painfully got to her feet. “We underestimated you, High Lord.”

  “Aye. I hope you’ve learned a lesson.” With a good-natured wink, he added, “Never underestimate your opponent, milady, especially an injured one.”

  She bowed her head, acknowledging his words of wisdom. “Something I’ve seemed to have forgotten. Thank you for the reminder.”

  Still holding her hand, he looked her directly in the eyes. “We’ve met before…in Laugharne.”

  Illiana pulled her hand free. “I’m afraid you have me confused with someone else, High Lord.” Saluting him with her sword, she turned.

  Dar caught her by the arm. “We both know I don’t. You owe me an explanation.”

  Her steely gaze met his. “If you don’t mind, I’d like to get cleaned up. We can talk tomorrow if you insist.” She shrugged from his grip and limped out of the arena.

  Dar watched her leave, thinking their talk would be that evening rather than tomorrow. He turned with the intention of joining Wolfe and Elfin for a quick congratulatory handshake.

  “She wouldn’t make you happy.” Zysha watched the maiden warrior leave the arena. Her demeanor softened as her eyes moved to his face. “Now me, on the other hand…” She ran her fingers down his chest. “I will-”

  “You will not.” At his wits’ end, pure white wings spread out. Zysha’s eyes filled with admiration as he took flight.

  20

  Going solar

  Linq and Robert rode hard to the north, knowing Etain would get to camp long before they did. After several miles, Linq veered in a wide arc to the east and turned south, keeping close to the trees. Hearing the rush of the river, he slackened their pace and, with little provocation, the animals turned toward the water. He didn’t want to leave Etain alone for too long, but the horses needed a drink. Dismounting, the men stretched their legs while the horses quenched their thirst.

  A soldier stepped out from behind a tree. “You bloody Alamir are so predictable.” Linq recognized the Bok uniform of a lieutenant. Other soldiers appeared, surrounding them. The lieutenant shouted an order to take their weapons.

  Linq stepped in front of Robert. “He's a shop owner. He has no weapons.”

  “Check him anyway, then tie ‘em up.” The leader looked him in the eye. “We'll wait here.”

  “Wait for what?” Linq asked, his arms pulled back roughly and bound together. His knees hit the ground with a brain-rattling thud. Beside him, he heard Robert grunt as he, too, was knocked to his knees.

  “Shut up!” The Bok lieutenant backhanded the elf, splitting his lip. “You’ll know soon enough.” He looked at Robert. “Both of you keep your mouths shut.”

  Another soldier, smaller in stature, stepped up to the first. “No sign of anyone, sir.”

  “Be patient, Dex. The bitch will show.”

  “The bitch is here.” An angry voice announced. “Cromorth, isn’t it?”

  With a smirk, Cromorth turned. “Pretentious cow. You think you’re going to take all of us? We aren’t stupid like Kromok.”

  “Let's find out.” Etain lifted Nim’Na’Sharr high overhead. As the soldiers moved into position, her eyes cut to Linq. A brief nod from the elf acknowledged the plan.

  Once Linq was on his feet, a violet glow lit in her eyes, her body growing to her full height of seven feet, and her wings fanning out. She laughed at their astonished faces. With a single beat of her wings, she soared straight up into the sky, turned, and did a freefall toward the soldiers. They scattered when she swooped toward the captives. Linq turned his back, Etain slashing the bindings around his wrists as she flew past. Still in motion, she tossed her sword to Linq, who then freed Robert.

  Turning, he watched the warrior angel land in front of Cromorth, who smirked, raised his sword, and dashed toward her. Etain reached for the black-bladed scimitars on her back. Committed to his advance, the lieutenant ran straight into the path of the crossed swords, losing his head clean from the neck, the smirk still on his face.

  “Pretentious dick,” she said, then darted into the patrol, slashing and jabbing her way through the Bok soldiers.

  Linq fought his way to his blades. “Robert!” he yelled, tossing Nim'Na'Sharr in his direction, then joined Etain in the fight.

  She twisted out of a double attack, bending low, and sliced through the lower leg of one soldier. The other, unable to slow his advance, brought his blade down, cutting deeply into the fallen soldier’s neck. Her
gaze came up, locking with that of the soldier in front of her. With Burning Heart, she deflected his furious assault, blocking his underarm dagger jab with Day Star. Another twist saved her from the edge of his sword, which she answered, slashing at his head. The soldier ducked and jabbed again with his dagger, slicing into her side. She staggered back, running into a tree.

  “The bitch bleeds!” The soldier laughed as his cohorts surrounded the High Lady.

  She glared at the advancing men, but a sight behind them caught her attention. Linq followed her gaze. Robert was slumped on the ground, his arm bathed in blood, Nim’Na’Sharr inches from his hand. Hearing a blood-curdling scream, he saw her launch into a fresh attack, cutting through the Bok. No matter how many fell, more seemed to appear.

  Linq tried to work his way to her, led by the sounds of her grunts as she fought for her life. Pushing harder, a voice suddenly entered his mind.

  Get Robert out of here.

  A war ensued within the elf. Leave a comrade in the heat of battle or save an innocent? His frown reflected his opinion of the command, but he changed direction, fighting his way through the mélange to her injured brother. A high-pitched battle cry brought most of the fighting to a halt. Turning their heads, the day erupted in a pure white light.

  Once the light dissipated, Linq, flat on the ground, raised his head. Etain lay crumpled in a heap, her wings outstretched, Dar’s blades still in her hands. He scrambled up and ran to her, checking for signs of life. Finding a strong pulse, he sighed in relief, giving Robert a nod.

  “Check her wings, make sure they aren’t broken.” Both men gently probed for injuries. With nothing amiss, they carefully folded them against her body. Linq attempted to release the straps of the scabbard, but a strong grip on his wrist stopped him.

  “Leave it,” she rasped, lifting her head. “Sheath the blades. I will not part with them again until I see Dar.” Her gaze was clear, intense. Pushing herself up to her knees, she sat back on her heels, resting, as Linq and Robert returned the swords to their rightful places. Accompanied by guttural grunts, scrunched eyes, and thinned lips, she retracted her wings. Her brother pulled her against him, but she resisted.