Allegiance Sworn (A NOVEL OF THE LIGHT BLADE)

by Kylie Griffin

  With that, she closed her eyes.

  Arek stared at her. Had she just admitted to being attracted to him? He’d assumed the problem all one-sided—his—and any reaction from her, part of the role she played as Na Kaal.

  Did she welcome the attraction or consider it a distraction? Her last comment didn’t indicate either way. And asking her to clarify didn’t seem prudent.

  Whatever the result, her admission proved . . . disquieting.

  Arek let his gaze drop to the flames of the fire. Those thoughts, and others, kept him awake well into the night.

  * * *

  THE morning sunlight did little to dispel the cold, the beams so weak they barely filtered through wispy fog to melt the layer of fresh snow crunching underfoot. Balling his hands into fists and blowing on them, Arek tried to ignore the chill seeping through three layers of clothing and numbing the exposed skin of his cheeks.

  Walking behind him, Imhara wore the only cloak. Her face remained pale, and although her wounds had healed over, her gait as they headed uphill was careful and slow, as if the muscles in her thigh were still tender. While she’d said nothing before setting out, he suspected she was still recovering.

  The air smelled clean and sweet, yet he almost preferred the thick, smoky odor of the shelter. At least there they’d been warm, but with the coming of dawn, Imhara’s need to return to the caravan had grown, as had his.

  How had her kin fared? Had Rassan and her Na’Hord managed to rout the would-be assassins? Brow furrowing, he skirted a loose pebbled scree and glanced back to make sure Imhara negotiated it without trouble. Ahead, through the misty gloom, uneven shadows took shape—the small forest just below the caravan. They were nearly there.

  A few feet in, and as his eyes adjusted to the dimmer light, uneven markings in the needle-strewn debris brought him to a halt. He crouched by the trunk of a stunted tree to study the ground. Brow furrowing, he touched the deep marks, measuring them against his hand.

  “Tracks,” he murmured. Imhara came alongside him. He gestured to one impression. It was wide and large. “They’re fresh.”

  “Friend or foe?” She scanned their surroundings.

  “I’d assume the latter and suggest we don’t linger.”

  “Agre—” Her reply cut off and her head lifted sharply.

  The softest whisper of sound carried through the fog. They both looked to the left where the forest thickened.

  “Someone’s out there.” She inhaled a deep breath, nostrils flaring. “I can smell them and it’s no one I know.”

  He tried to peer through the thick mist. “I can’t see farther than ten feet in front of me.”

  The soft crunch of leaves and sticks underfoot carried in the stillness, but there was no way of telling just how far away they were as the fog distorted the sounds. Yet whoever it was, was coming closer.

  With a shrug, Arek slid the pack off his shoulder and pulled her sword from the scabbard attached to the straps. “They’re not even concealing their approach.”

  The odds of there being more than one rose significantly. He pressed the sword into her hands, then reached for the dagger in his belt.

  “Retreat. Use all the cover you can. Move.”

  Imhara raised an eyebrow at his orders, but she at least had the sense not to question him. A shadow emerged from between two trees, no more than fifteen feet away.

  A familiar rush of adrenaline surged through Arek.

  “Too late,” she murmured.

  He abandoned the pack and stepped between the strange Na’Reishi and her, dropping into a defensive crouch. A pinch in the small of his back reminded him he had a role to play and he eased his stance into something less provocative.

  The Na’Reish male was well over six feet tall, with wide muscled shoulders, and biceps as thick as Imhara’s thighs. Tawny hair framed a broad face, one hardened by years of experience, if the lines creasing his face were any indication. The uneven spots running down the sides of his jaw and neck were almost black, darkened by countless seasons spent outside in the sun.

  The stylized armor, molded leather breeches, and knee-high boots heralded him as a warrior of rank, definitely Na’Reishi. While he hadn’t yet drawn the sword sheathed at his side, his gloved hand rested on the pommel, in clear readiness.

  Thick salt-and-pepper eyebrows descended into a deep V. “You dare threaten me with a weapon, slave?”

  Arek uttered a soft curse under his breath but held his position. Had he made a mistake in facing off with the demon?

  “He defends me.” Imhara’s tone was as cold as the air around them. “Identify yourself.”

  There was just the right amount of haughty arrogance reflected in her demand. Again, her swift switch in personas impressed him. The warrior’s deep violet eyes remained locked on him for several seconds, then flickered over his shoulder.

  “Na Kaal.” Black lips stretched in a cool smile. “It’s good to see you safe and well. I’d been told you were wounded.” The smile faded when she neither confirmed nor denied his statement. “Order your slave to put the weapon down.”

  “Why should I?” she challenged. “I don’t know you, Na’Reishi. Now answer me.”

  He inclined his head. “My name is Ehran Veht, second son Na Veht and Commander of his Na’Hord.”

  His rank almost equaled that of Imhara’s. What was the second son of a Na doing in Kaal territory?

  “A bold move identifying yourself, considering your assassins failed in their attempt on my life.”

  “Those warriors were not mine.” The Na’Reishi took a step closer, large hands lifting, fingers spreading wide. “You misunderstand my intentions.”

  “And I’m in no mood to bandy words. Get to the point.”

  Her curt impatience had Veht flexing his gloved hands.

  “I’m here to help you.” His attempt to placate was spoiled by the edge in his tone. “Your Second and others search with me.”

  “Really?”

  Arek almost grinned at Imhara’s dry response. Veht’s black lips thinned and his jaw tightened.

  His chest armor did have frond leaves etched into it, as opposed to the unmarked plates of the assassins. The thin strands belonged to the only tree to survive and thrive in the Chomi Desert. The demon’s allegiance probably lay with the desert-dwelling Clan, but until Imhara ordered him otherwise, Arek wasn’t lowering his weapon.

  “Where are the Kaal Na’Hord you claim accompany you?” Arek gestured to the surrounding forest with his chin. There had to be more Na’Reish searching for Imhara. Could the demon be stalling? “You’re out here alone.”

  Imhara’s hand clamped tightly on his shoulder as the Na’Reishi’s weathered face darkened. “You dare to question me?”

  The sharp snapping of debris came from their left. Arek pivoted, crowding Imhara backward, toward the nearest tree. How many others converged on their location? Could she scent them?

  While it had thinned, fog still shrouded the forest. Their position was vulnerable enough as it was without leaving all sides undefended. Another shadow appeared through the trees, this one a foot shorter than Veht.

  “Na Kaal?”

  The familiar deep voice eased the pounding of Arek’s heart. Behind him, Imhara uttered a soft invocation of thanks.

  “Rassan!”

  Arek released a slow breath. The Na’Chi was a welcome sight. Relief flickered across Rassan’s broad face as he drew closer. His violet eyes swept over them both, as if to assure himself they were all right, then flickered to Veht. He made no move to draw his weapon, just nodded an acknowledgment to the other warrior.

  “Commander Veht has been of great assistance, Na Kaal. His Na’Hord helped us during the ambush, then they stayed to assist in the search for you.” His gaze pinned Arek where he stood. “Stand down, slave.” Imhara gently squeezed his shoulder. Arek lowered his dagger but didn’t release it. “Are you well, Na?”

  “I’ve fed.” The flecks in Rassan’s eyes flashed bronze
. Imhara shifted against his hold, and Arek let her go. It was enough to draw Veht’s gaze away from the Na’Chi and disaster. “Were any of the assassins captured alive?”

  Rassan regained his stoic composure and shook his head. “Unfortunately, no.”

  Veht’s upper lip curled. “The Vorc-scat scum took their own lives when they realized your Second had help.”

  “Then it seems I owe you an apology and a debt of gratitude, Commander.”

  “Part of which I’ll collect right now.”

  Attention split between both Na’Reishi, Arek only saw a blur of motion, then a sharp crack of pain against his cheek. His vision exploded in a flare of white and red. Another blow sent him to the ground.

  A knee landed on his back, pinning him there. His wrist was seized and long fingers dug into his flesh. Nerves screamed in protest. The dagger fell from them as a hand tangled in his hair.

  “You deserve death for your insolent behavior, human!” Veht growled.

  With a hard shove Arek found his face ground into the needle-debris. He fought to twist free, reining in the urge to use his Gift on Veht.

  “Were you mine”—the fingers gripping his neck dug in hard—“I’d have your tongue cut out for daring to question me and your hand removed for ignoring a direct order.”

  “Na Veht.” Imhara’s reprimand was sharp. Arek stilled. The gritty taste of crushed needle-leaves mixed with the iron tang of blood in his mouth. “He was within his rights to defend me—as you well know.”

  “And that’s why he lies beneath my knee eating dirt instead of with a blade buried in his chest.”

  With a final push and another mouthful of dry needles, the weight lifted from Arek’s back. He rolled away, every instinct screaming at him to finish the fight. He remained on his hands and knees, his gaze lowered and fixed on Veht’s boots. Not out of intimidation or submission, although it would seem that way to the warrior, but because he half expected another assault despite Imhara’s intervention.

  Veht shifted closer. “Disrespect me again and you will pay for it dearly.” The threat vibrated in the air between them. Heat flared in Arek’s gut but he held his ground. “Remember that, human.”

  “Commander, any further disciplining of my slave will be done by either myself or Rassan.” Imhara’s tone projected a combination of steely insistence and blatant caution. After a long moment, the black boots turned away and disappeared from his field of vision.

  The skin between Arek’s shoulders crawled. Instinct warned him Veht still watched him. It took everything he had to keep his head bowed. Last time he’d looked up, it’d earned him a dozen lashes across his shoulders. To do so now would invite retaliation and undo Imhara’s intervention.

  “Sometimes humans aren’t worth the trouble, Na Kaal.” Veht spat, the gob of spittle landing on Arek’s sleeve. He curled his fingers in the debris. “You’d be wasting your time with this one.”

  “Oh, I don’t know about that.” Imhara’s husky chuckling filled the forest. “I’ve found him a quick learner given the right motivation. My time spent training this one has been rather enjoyable.”

  Veht made a sound of disgust. “No disrespect intended, Na Kaal, but I’ve never seen a use for them other than as prey or breeders.”

  “Each to their own tastes, Commander.” Her response turned hard and cold again, a clear reminder of who ranked whom. “Come, I’m eager to get back to the caravan. While we make our way there, you need to explain why you’re in my territory. I received no message heralding your arrival.”

  A grunt came from the Clan Commander. “No messenger? Na Veht dispatched one over a week ago.”

  Arek frowned. How many patrols attempted to sneak through Skadda Pass and into Kaal territory without Imhara knowing? Their vigilance couldn’t be faulted. He suspected very few made it through unnoticed, given the Kaal Clan’s need for anonymity. Nor could he see Na Kaal letting such a practice slide without retribution, given her reputation.

  Imhara made a noncommittal sound. “I wonder if he fell prey to the same band of brigands as we did?”

  Had the ambushers waited that long for the caravan to come through? It smacked of advanced planning and organization. Surely it also couldn’t be coincidence that a week ago, both Meelar and Yur had used the route through Skadda Pass.

  Had one of them left warriors behind? He wouldn’t put it past either Na’Reishi to do such a thing.

  Veht and Imhara’s voices drifted off as she drew the Na’Reishi away. Arek dared to look up.

  “Are you all right?” Rassan’s murmured query was barely a whisper.

  Arek wiped blood and dirt from his mouth. Gentle probing with his tongue found a laceration on the inside of his lip. “Other than wanting to shove a dagger into the arrogant bastard’s back, I’m fine.”

  “Don’t even go there, Arek.” Rassan shook his head. “Your scent will betray you. Next time, neither Imhara nor I could be there to stop them, and believe me when I say a missing tongue or hand is merciful compared to some of the things I’ve seen the Na’Reish deem as punishment.”

  Arek nodded. That message had come through loud and clear. Veht’s vicious tactics were exactly what he expected of demons. The contrast between him and Imhara couldn’t be more clear. Veht was soured wine to her honey-cider.

  Rassan scooped up the pack. “Are Imhara’s injuries truly healed?”

  “Mostly.”

  “You let her feed from you?”

  “Shocked?” Arek gave a wry smile. “Me, too.”

  The Na’Chi’s gaze pierced him. “What’s happened since I saw you go over the edge of the road after her? Tell me, then I’ll fill you in on Veht’s part in all this.”

  By the time Arek had finished explaining his side of the tale, including his suspicions regarding the identity of who might have set up the attack, they’d reached the fall site.

  “Do you think Veht had anything to do with the ambush?” he asked as they halted at the edge of the tree line, near the dead Vorc.

  “No. Once again we can’t prove it, but this ambush is something Yur would attempt.” Black flashed through the Na’Chi’s gaze. “To kill a Na takes someone of rank or approval from someone of rank. Yur would have both, while Meelar knows he wouldn’t have the backing of his sire if he was caught or found out.”

  Arek glanced up the valley wall. A thin layer of snow crusted the barren incline. The weak beams of sunlight were gaining strength and the fog was finally starting to lift. Halfway up the slope, Veht assisted Imhara’s climb. People waiting up on the roadway called out salutations to them both.

  With distance and other noise to cover their conversation, Arek spoke freely. “Killing Imhara before she reaches the Enclave or forcing her to accept a mate achieves the same outcome—Savyr gets a free route into human territory.”

  “Exactly.”

  “She’s going to need constant protection.”

  Rassan nodded once, lips thinning. “And your role just became more difficult. I’d give you a weapon if I could, Arek.”

  “I already have one.” At his puzzled frown, Arek inhaled a slow, deep breath before meeting his gaze. “Not all Light Blades use a weapon to kill. Sometimes a bare hand on skin is all that’s needed.”

  Rassan cocked his head to one side. “In the library, I was more worried you were going to snap Imhara’s neck. I never realized you could kill with a touch. I thought that a rumor. So, you have this skill?”

  Arek nodded. “It took years of training.” His smile twisted. “Let’s just say I had a need to learn and leave it at that.”

  “I sense a tale behind that statement. Perhaps one day you’ll share it with me?”

  “Perhaps.” Arek gestured to the climb. Veht and Imhara had reached the roadway. “So, he’ll accompany us to Gannec Fortress.”

  “Yes. His intervention tipped the balance of battle in our favor. We have wounded, and while the healers will use their Gifts to help them, they’ll do it judiciously. We don’t need
the scrutiny of Veht’s warriors turned on us if they were suddenly well again a day after the attack.”

  “And we now owe him a debt, one he’ll forfeit the potential profit of a slave-raid to claim when we reach Gannec Fortress.” Rassan’s tone was dry. “And then there’s the bragging rights. It’s not every day a Commander can boast he helped save a Na’s life.”

  Arek lifted an eyebrow. “His status will rise?”

  “Significantly.”

  “And how will Imhara repay the debt?”

  “Most likely during the Enclave she’ll acknowledge his actions and favor unlimited access to the slave-route for any future ventures he may embark on. It will increase his wealth. Not that he’ll be able to collect on it if all goes according to plan.” Rassan’s expression remained solemn. “Your role as Imhara’s slave begins earlier than anticipated, Light Blade. Are you up to it?”

  Arek shared a grim smile with the other warrior. “Do I really have a choice?” Rassan’s steady look drew a grunt from him. “I didn’t think so.”

  Chapter 23

  AREK’S first view of Gannec Fortress came as the wagon he was riding in rounded a bend in the road. The thick forest they’d been travelling through most of the day thinned, giving him an almost clear view of the massive citadel and behind it the southern arm of the Shadowblade Mountains, their peaks covered in snow.

  “Mother of Light!” The curse ripped from him.

  While the mountains were majestic, the fortress claimed all of his attention. The crenulated walls stood nearly eighty feet high, manned by watchtowers with walkways in between. At this distance, only a handful of stone-slatted roofs could be seen peeking over them.

  Everything—the walls, the towers, the buildings beyond—was constructed out of black, volcanic rock, as daunting as it was hard.

  Only the arched barbican differed, its two sets of double gates made of iron-studded wood, its purpose just as imposing. Weighing as much as they did, each would require an independent mechanical system to operate them. Right now, they were wide open and traffic moved through in both directions, overlooked by four well-manned towers and a patrol stationed on the ground.