Allegiance Sworn (A NOVEL OF THE LIGHT BLADE)

by Kylie Griffin

  To the far left, a massive fog bank blanketed the area she knew to be the Clan campsite. The pitch of tents and the odd pavilion poked through the top layer. Patches of it though glowed an eerie kaleidoscope of colors, red, orange, and gold. Shouting carried on the breeze, but the voices were indistinguishable at this distance.

  “Lady’s Breath, how much of the campsite did Atallie set alight?” Arek’s soft question echoed her thoughts. “It looks like the whole camp is under attack.”

  Imhara grinned. It did indeed, and that could provide a possible explanation for the increased number of patrols roaming the fortress.

  “If you think that’s spectacular, then you’d better take a look at this.” Rassan motioned them over to the other side of the watchtower.

  As Imhara crossed the floor, the world lit up in a flash of light closely followed by another explosion of thunder. As her night vision returned, she had to blink several times before comprehending what she saw. The fog hadn’t reached the ground on this side of the fortress, probably because Oreese had concentrated his efforts on the gates and the Clan campsite.

  “Merciful Mother!” She gripped the cold stone wall and leaned over for a clearer view.

  An Enclave gathering was impressive at the best of times. Anywhere from four to five thousand members set up tents outside the Gannec fortress every year, a massive undertaking in logistics, preparation, and execution.

  Yet here, row upon row of tents, ten deep, stretched the entire length of the western wall. The sheer size of the canvas city put the Clan campsite to shame and sent chills racing down her spine.

  “Savyr’s army.” She couldn’t keep the hoarseness out of her voice as a curse ripped from Arek’s mouth. “The Na’Rei is going to war.”

  Savyr would be the first king in generations to mobilize a full army and march across the border in an all-out assault against the humans since the Great War. A shiver prickled the length of Imhara’s body.

  “I estimate nearly fifteen thousand Na’Hord.” Rassan’s solemn tone increased her sense of foreboding. “It’d take a week, maybe two, for this number of warriors to broach the border at Whitewater Crossing. Longer if they crossed anywhere else. Time enough for the humans to rally a counterforce and confront them.”

  “Savyr wouldn’t send his entire army into human territory through one entry point.” She swallowed hard. “He’d split the army and try a multipronged attack. Skadda Pass and the slave-route would give him one approach. No wonder he was pushing so hard to see me mated before the Enclave.”

  And it underscored the need to cut the head of the shadow-winder from its body. Without Savyr or Yur, the Enclave and the army would be left writhing and thrashing, engulfed by an internal Clan war as the Na’s fought for the title of Na’Rei.

  “A couple of weeks versus months,” Imhara murmured, the knot in her gut twisting tight once more. “Rassan, buying time would save so many lives . . .”

  “No.” He cut her off hard and turned his black-flecked gaze on her. “We’re not going over this again.”

  “Seeing the size of Savyr’s Na’Hord worries me, too, Imhara. Comparing the sizes of our forces, I know the odds of war truly lie in the Na’Rei’s favor, but I still don’t agree that sacrificing your life is worth the possibility of creating mayhem among the Clans.” Arek’s hand smoothed down her back, and the look in his eye mirrored Rassan’s even though his tone was gentler. “We have to have faith that the Lady has a purpose for us not succeeding in this journey.”

  The struggle Arek felt was there in his expression; he hid nothing from her, and again she marveled at the strength he showed her. Reason over vengeance.

  “We’ll never get this chance again.” Imhara grimaced and ran a hand through her hair. “You’d place personal desires over the common good?”

  Shadows flickered through Arek’s gaze, and a muscle in his jaw ticked as he considered her question. He drew in a deep breath and cupped her jaw, his thumb stroking her cheek. “This time, yes, I would.”

  His blunt response astonished her.

  “As a warrior everything in me objects, but if I listen to my heart, then my desire is purely selfish. And my gut tells me that there has to be a reason why we’re faced with this choice. I don’t know the answer, so I’m going with my heart on this one. Put aside all expectations and ask yourself this. What do you really want, Imhara?”

  His words tugged at her heart, and she did as he asked, looking deep within herself. Pushing aside the pressures of responsibility wasn’t easy, it was part of who she was, and more times than she could count, those expectations had taken precedence over hers. But there beyond them she found the answer.

  “You.” The hand cupping her jaw tightened a moment. “I want you.”

  A lover, a mate, a future outside being Na Kaal—all dreams unfulfilled and things she wanted yet had never given herself permission to fully dream into being, but Arek made her want to, more than anything.

  “Then just this once, listen to your heart.” His hand slid down her arm until his fingers tangled with hers. “Please.”

  How could she resist such a soft plea?

  Imhara gave a jerky nod. His and Rassan’s relief saturated the air.

  Almost as if he sensed she needed a moment to compose herself, Arek glanced to her Second and gestured to the army. “What are those cordoned-off sections set at intervals among the tents?”

  “Slave pens.” Rassan’s mouth set in a grim line. “Once Savyr orders his Na’Hord to move, they’ll become mobile. Cages on wagons.”

  “A portable source of food.” The distaste on Arek’s face matched the nausea in her stomach. “I’ve seen something similar while on border patrol but nothing like this.”

  A shout came from behind them. As one they turned. A lone Na’Hord warrior headed toward them from along the southern walkway.

  “Looks like this might be the missing watchtower guard,” Rassan murmured. “But where are his companions?”

  “Do we confront him or retreat?” Arek asked, tersely.

  “Retreat, for now.” Imhara exited the tower via the opposite archway just as it began to rain.

  Halfway across, movement ahead stopped her. She wasn’t sure who was more astonished at seeing one another, her or the three other Na’Hord warriors coming along the western walkway. Thunder rumbled overhead.

  “Back!” Rassan called.

  Imhara didn’t hesitate.

  “Halt!”

  They ignored the warning cry.

  Her Second drew his weapon and surged ahead, his speed taking the lone warrior by surprise. The demon didn’t even have time to draw his sword. The fight was swift and short, and ended with Rassan heaving his fatally wounded opponent over the battlements. They all heard the body hit the water below.

  “And there’s the missing tower guards,” Arek murmured, pointing with his chin. Two more Na’Hord were coming along the southern walkway. “We’re going to be trapped here on the wall, Rassan.”

  “We can’t go back to the streets.” Imhara grimaced. “And the fortress gates are most likely shut by now.”

  Rassan sheathed his sword. “Then we jump.”

  Arek’s head jerked around. “What?”

  “It’s only a thirty-foot drop to the river below.”

  Imhara pushed Arek toward a battlement. “We don’t have time to argue.”

  She scrambled up onto the one next to him, wincing as her side pulled. Arek steadied her. She shot one last glance over her shoulder at Gannec Fortress.

  Savyr’s keep towered over the city center like a dark specter, one that would continue to haunt her thoughts with what ifs. After imagining his defeat for so long, the bitterness of seeing that dream unfulfilled twisted her insides again.

  Arek’s fingers squeezed hers, his twilight blue gaze reflecting her regret. “Savyr will be called to account for his actions, Imhara. Maybe not by us, but the Lady will see to it.”

  Imhara pushed resentment back and focuse
d on the hold he had on her hand. She peered down at the river below. Fog curled over the dark water’s surface.

  “Ready?” Rassan joined them on the wall. She took a deep breath and nodded. “Jump!”

  They leapt.

  Chapter 38

  Anight of struggling through the storm and putting as much distance between them and Savyr’s fortress left Imhara exhausted and reeling on her feet, so when they stumbled upon Barrca and several others of her Clan waiting for them with transport beasts on the trail ahead, she didn’t care that they’d ignored her order to flee Gannec territory as fast as they could.

  After a swift recount of events and delivering the news that Savyr still lived, Rassan insisted she feed before they resumed their escape. While feeding relieved the residing ache and soreness of her wound, it also brought the full weight of fatigue down upon her. Riding double, it wasn’t long before she slept, head resting on the back of the person in front of her.

  Two hard days of riding caught them up with the main group and in sight of the mountains and Skadda Pass. A trip that should have taken four days cut in half without a caravan of loaded wagons slowing the pace. Still the fast pace took its toll on everyone, and Rassan called a halt halfway up the range.

  Imhara wandered a little away from the main group and found an outcrop of boulders off the trail that overlooked the mountain slopes. The afternoon sun had warmed the pitted surface, and other than the soft chattering of voices, only the distant hoot of a winged hobaan broke the tranquil stillness of the air.

  Boot steps crunched over the ground behind her, and a moment later her Second eased his large frame down beside her. His shoulder rubbed hers as he handed her a small cloth-wrapped package.

  “It’s only trail rations, but by this time tomorrow evening we’ll be enjoying Nenchan’s cooking again,” he said, with a grin.

  Imhara fished out a piece of journeybread. “I’ll try and imagine this is one of her oven soft rolls then instead of week-old tack.” Taking a bite she glanced over her shoulder at the others. “How are the children and new humans settling in?”

  Her friend peered in the same direction. “They seem to be handling it for the most part. Although the hard travelling has worn on the children,” he murmured. “The healers and a few of the other humans are the only ones the ex-Isha humans will interact with. They’re still afraid of the rest of us.”

  “Understandable, given what they’ve been through.”

  Imhara’s gaze roved over the groups and settled on the one Arek belonged to. The Light Blade sat with one of the young men they’d bought from the Isha. The same one he’d shared time with during the last few meals.

  Each wore solemn expressions, the younger man listening more than contributing to the conversation. Arek was probably answering questions, maybe talking to him about his new life, or at least she hoped so. Not wanting to intrude, she’d kept her distance, knowing how important it was for the youth to bond with someone.

  While she didn’t resent the time Arek spent with the young man, she did find herself missing his company, among other things. After the intensity and revelations of the last week, she’d looked forward to exploring their new relationship.

  Granted, circumstances hadn’t exactly allowed them to spend time together. Trail duties with her Na’Hord then camp chores whenever they stopped had occupied them both. The one time they might have scrimped some time together was at night, but exhaustion relegated them to curling up under a blanket and sleeping as soon as their heads hit the ground.

  Yet none of that stopped her wanting Arek or his company. Perhaps now she’d allowed her long-suppressed hopes to rise, squashing them to the back of her mind was no longer so easy.

  Imhara shifted restlessly on the boulder and stared out over the forest-strewn hills below.

  “You’re not stewing over Savyr, are you?” She looked up, startled. Rassan gestured. “You’re flexing and fisting your hand, and you’ve broken that journeybread into crumbs.”

  Imhara glanced down at the tiny piece left in her hand. Her cheeks flushed. “No.” She gave him a wry smile. “Perhaps I should be.”

  “I’m glad that you’re not.”

  She chewed her lip. “So you don’t think I’ve failed our people?”

  “Failed us?” His deep voice rumbled up from his chest. “Not at all, Imhara. Arek was right in what he said. We need you more than we need Savyr dead.”

  “But he’ll claim a blood-feud and hunt us all down.”

  “And would the result be different if a new warrior claimed the throne and declared himself Na’Rei?” Rassan uncapped his water pouch and drank, then offered it to her.

  Imhara grunted, conceding his point but also relieved to hear his reassurance. They passed the next few minutes in a companionable silence.

  The heavy clattering of hoofbeats on stone broke it. Rassan’s relaxed expression sharpened, and as one they rose from the boulder and turned in the direction of the trail.

  Her Second grunted. “It’s Barrca.”

  Assigned to watch their back trail, the blond-haired warrior leaned low over the shaggy neck of his mount, urging it up the last slope before the small plateau campsite. The beast labored for breath, its gasps rasping in its barrel chest. Others in camp started to rise as they heard them coming up the slope.

  Imhara shared a look with Rassan. What had Barrca so concerned that he’d run an animal almost to exhaustion? The switchback trail was empty behind him.

  The Na’Hord warrior reined in his beast and slid from the saddle, thrusting the reins at one of the younger warriors who came to take them from him. His sweat-shined face creased in a frown as his gaze searched the campsite.

  “Na Kaal, Second!” He started toward them. “Four patrols, moving fast in our direction.”

  Adrenaline surged through Imhara. “Whose?”

  “The banner is black.”

  “Savyr.” Rassan grimaced. “How far behind us are they?”

  “I saw them from Pinnacle Hill just emerging from the forest.” The flecks of color in Barrca’s eyes were a mix of pale green and yellow. “Each patrol has spare mounts. All are Vorc. I watched long enough to see they’re coming up the trail and not diverting to skirt the border between our territories.”

  Imhara glanced at their string of war-beasts. Leaving their own Vorc behind to allay suspicion, they’d sacrificed some speed by using the shaggy animals.

  “They’re either coming to stop us or to take Skadda Pass,” Rassan stated.

  “Either aim will give Savyr what he wants—control of Skadda Pass.” Imhara took a moment to think. “If Barrca saw them near Pinnacle Hill, then they’re only an hour or so behind us.”

  These were not regular patrols sent out to roam Clan territory but Vorc-Masters, those sent after escaped slaves or on raids for humans. The animals they rode were trained to respond only to their commands. She quickly calculated the time it would take their group to get through Skadda Pass.

  “They’re going to intercept us just before we get to the pass.” She turned to the group. “Oreese! We need something to delay those patrols, but nothing to hamper us.”

  “That cart gets left behind. The children double with a rider. Everyone else is on foot,” Rassan added. “Leave behind anything we can afford to do without. The lighter we travel, the faster we’ll be.”

  “I’ll take a few Na’Hord and check the screes.”

  At Rassan’s nod, Barrca called to three others, and on two fresher mounts, headed up the trail into the pass. As if their leaving was impetus, everyone scrambled to action. In minutes those who were riding were ready to go. The handful without mounts started their ascent.

  Imhara took one last glance around, making sure no one had been left behind in the rush. All that remained were small piles of supplies. The clatter of hooves on stone nearby had her turning.

  A spear of pleasure surged through her at the sight of Arek astride one of the beasts, reins clasped in one hand, years of
riding experience evident in his relaxed posture.

  “Need a ride?”

  The saddle pad behind him was empty. He kicked his foot free of his stirrup and stretched an arm down to her. The sight of his large hand, fingers extended loosely toward her, sent a surge of longing so fierce through her she fought to keep her expression neutral. She thought he’d help one of the other humans.

  Instead, she smiled and reached for his hand. The warmth of his grip was nothing compared to the heat in his body as she settled herself in against him, wrapping her arms around his waist. She should have felt foolish at enjoying the simple satisfaction of him choosing her company but she didn’t.

  “Four patrols of warriors and trained Vorc will outnumber your Na’Hord.”

  Arek’s statement was as foreboding as the darkening clouds gathering in the south. Three mounts ahead, Oreese sat behind one of the other Na’Reish, his eyes closed, his concentration on calling his Gift. This far into the mountains, manipulating the weather could be a tricky undertaking, but she had confidence in the young man.

  “Barrca isn’t just checking the screes for safety,” she replied. “There’s a large slope just as we go through the pass that can be manipulated and set off into a landslide if need be.”

  Arek turned his head, his profile creased in a frown. “That scree has boulders, some the size of houses. I know Na’Reish are strong but I’ve never seen them shift rocks that large before.”

  Imhara chuckled. “Oreese and Atallie aren’t the only Gifted amongst those here in the caravan. Maag is able to shift the ground and anything that comes from it, while Ayson is a siphon. He’ll feed Maag the energy she needs to bring down the scree.

  “She’ll seal the pass completely, cutting us off from any Na’Reish incursion. They’ll have to head north then venture through human territory to reach us from now on.”