Allegiance Sworn (A NOVEL OF THE LIGHT BLADE)

by Kylie Griffin

  Arek clucked his tongue and turned his mount in their direction. As he drew closer, he heard Rassan’s frustrated growl. The Na’Chi dropped the reins of his beast and strode away from Imhara, a litany of ripe curses heating the air.

  “Arek, see if you can talk some sense into her!” he growled and slapped his gloves against the side of his breeches.

  Arek slid from the saddle. “What’s going on?”

  “Simple.” She threw her pack over the back of the saddle and tied it off, her movements sharp, a scowl as dark as her Second’s on her face. “I’ve just told Rassan that it will be only you and me completing this journey.”

  “What? Since when did our plans change?”

  Imhara turned, her expression carefully composed, outwardly calm, but the fire in her gaze scorched them both.

  “Since I decided the risks involved in this venture didn’t justify placing another six people in jeopardy.”

  Rassan folded his arms. “I’m still waiting to hear the logic behind this decision.”

  “The odds of the Blade Council believing the word of a Na’Reish demon that our Clan means them no harm are slim.” She tapped one of the saddle packs on her beast. The hollow thump indicated one of the precious Kaal journals lay within. “The words on these pages won’t be enough to convince them. Savyr’s death might have swayed them, but since we weren’t successful in that little venture, I don’t know if it’s wise to take so many into human territory. Two can convey our request for a truce as well as eight.”

  “Arek told you they found evidence in their ancestors’ journals about the Old Ways.” The Na’Chi warrior sounded like he spoke through gritted teeth. “We’re giving them more proof to examine. Arek’s seen the Old Ways in action. He’s a Light Blade warrior prepared to stand with you when you face their Council! How could they not listen and consider our proposal for a truce?”

  Arek grunted and empathized with Rassan’s frustration. Imhara’s sudden change of heart didn’t make a lot of sense except he’d seen the flicker of shadows in her gaze when she’d mentioned the word risks.

  It also made her behavior in the days since returning to the fortress more comprehensible. Other than attending the memorial ceremony, Imhara had spent most of her time in the library.

  Her daily ritual of visiting the inner barracks to mix with the new members of the Clan had been put off with the excuse the Isha humans weren’t ready. Her attendance at training sessions had been equally as sporadic.

  Without those clues, he’d have been as frustrated as Rassan seemed to be. It was unlike the Na’Chi not to pick up on Imhara’s behavior. Perhaps the impact of Barrca’s death affected and distracted him more than he was letting on.

  Whatever the reason, dismissing three-quarters of the group and ordering them to return to the fortress was illogical. The people selected to accompany them had a wide range of Gifts and skills the Guild Masters would appreciate exploring.

  Both Imhara and Rassan possessed details about the demon Na’Hord the Blade Council would need to know. Skadda Pass might be closed to Savyr’s army, but there were other, less strategic places his forces could cross into human territory. Again knowledge either of them could share with the Council.

  Arek released a soft sigh and tugged off his riding gloves. His mouth twisted wryly at the situation facing him now. Two months ago he’d have fought to the death to deny Imhara Kaal and her Clan access to human territory, now he had to convince her it was in everyone’s best interest to go.

  And the only way he was going to do that was to neutralize every excuse she offered. A sure way to rile her temper, but he preferred to see her fighting than giving up.

  “Convincing the Blade Council of your sincerity isn’t going to be easy.” He tucked his gloves into his belt.

  Imhara gave a sharp nod. “See, Rassan, Arek agrees with me.”

  The warrior fisted his hands, the leather of his gloves creaking. His scowl spoke volumes as his violet gaze pierced him.

  Arek held up his hand. “Imhara, I don’t agree with you. Not entirely. Trusting any Na’Reish is a huge thing to ask. You can expect a whole host of reactions similar to mine when we first met. But”—and here he paused to marshal his thoughts—“there’s always the option of claiming sanctuary. As a Light Blade warrior, I can make the claim on your behalf, and when we reach Sacred Lake, we can approach the Temple Elect at the Lady’s Temple. That will protect you all until the Blade Council can meet to hear your appeal.

  “Don’t forget though, the Kaal journals are compelling. After reading them, I know many of the events recounted by your ancestors correlate with the time line and versions I found in our past Chosen-leaders’ diaries. Facts cannot be ignored. The current Chosen won’t ignore them, nor will he let the Council ignore them.”

  Rassan’s scowl eased.

  “We might not have killed Savyr. However, the significance of Yur’s death can’t be dismissed.” Arek allowed her to see his satisfaction. “We eliminated the Na’Rei’s Second in Command. What sort of effect will this have on Savyr’s plans? At the very least, it will take some time for him to mobilize his entire army, and he can’t do it without a new Second. He’s going to have to find a replacement, someone as loyal and trustworthy as Yur. Not an easy task, considering the politics and strategies his Commanders will employ as they attempt to earn his favor.

  “And when you add in the Kaal journals and my firsthand account of living among your Clan, I guarantee you the Chosen, the Temple Elect, Annika, and a handful of the Councilors will listen.”

  Imhara raised an eyebrow. She strode toward him and grasped his wrist. Shoving his sleeve up his arm, she exposed the just-healed-over teeth marks and paler scars of past bites.

  “You might be a Light Blade warrior, but these brand you as a blood-slave. You told me that humans doubt the word of one so afflicted because of the addiction they believe exists between demon and slave. What makes you think they’ll take your word over that?” She dropped his arm and returned to stand near her mount. “We’ll encounter a patrol just inside your border, they’ll see those marks, and you could claim to be the brother of the Chosen himself and they wouldn’t believe you. We’ll be lucky to even see the walls of Sacred Lake!”

  Arek almost laughed at her analogy. He considered Kalan as close as a brother.

  “We’ll see the inside of Sacred Lake, Imhara,” he assured her, and tugged his sleeve back down over his forearm.

  For a moment, he hesitated, knowing in his gut that sharing his identity would matter.

  To the success of the plan.

  To Rassan.

  But especially to her.

  If he’d spoken up sooner, perhaps during the preparation phase of this journey, it might have circumvented this situation.

  Pulse beating harder, he locked gazes with her so she’d see the truth in his eyes, and he steeled himself for her reaction.

  “I’m not the brother of the Chosen, Imhara, but you’re close. I’m his best friend, and his Second in Command.”

  * * *

  IMHARA’S head pounded as she stared at Arek, her blood heating fast. Her body though turned to ice.

  I’m his best friend, and his Second in Command. His soft words replayed over and over in her head.

  Arek was Urkan Yur’s counterpart in the human world?

  She swayed where she stood and reached out to grasp the edge of her saddle. Too little sleep and a rough boat ride of conflicting emotions over the last week made her head spin.

  Both warriors started toward her, their expression reflecting their concern.

  She widened her stance and waved off their assistance. “I’m fine.”

  She dragged in a deep breath. The clean, cinnamon scent surrounding Arek assured her he spoke the truth. She held on to her temper.

  Just.

  Why had he kept his identity from her for so long?

  Did it matter?

  That he had slashed at her like the edge of a knife blade.
She thought they’d reached a level of trust that superseded keeping secrets from one another.

  Inside her something snapped.

  Her lips twisted. “Light, Arek, you seemed quite happy to jump into bed with me”—her insides felt as brittle as her tone—“but you couldn’t find it in you to share your name and identity?”

  Beneath his tan, Arek’s cheeks flushed. Anger or embarrassment?

  “Imhara!” Rassan’s admonishment pricked at her conscience.

  “What?” She stabbed a finger in Arek’s direction. “Such a significant piece of information and he hides it from us until now. Rather convenient, don’t you think?”

  She gulped in a breath, uncaring that she sounded like a screeching hobaan. It was either that or give in to the aching hollowness inside her.

  Her Second’s brow pulled low. “Don’t pretend he’s lying when his scent tells you otherwise.”

  “Rassan, some of her anger is justified,” Arek said, the skin around his mouth creasing as he grimaced.

  She snorted. “Just some?”

  He came at her slowly, every line in his body as tight as his expression. He stopped an arm’s length from her, his twilight eyes narrowed, his smile grim.

  “I could give you a list of reasons why I didn’t tell you sooner, Imhara, but you already know what some are likely to be.” She did, initial trust being high on that list. His words were calm but underlaced with steel. “I hurt you. Be angry with me. I’ll bear it.” He bared his teeth in a semi-smile. “But don’t use this as an excuse to deny the others a chance to accompany you to Sacred Lake.”

  Imhara blinked, her anger stalling with his words. She swallowed hard and glanced away, not wanting him to know how accurate his assumption was.

  “Now, let’s deal with the real reason why you don’t want them on this journey.” Arek’s voice gentled. She almost preferred the harder tone. It didn’t grate as much over the rawness inside her. “Risking lives.”

  Light, she couldn’t deal with this right now. She turned, gathering her reins. His hand caught her arm. The heat of him behind her, the scent of him surrounding her, the warmth of his touch immobilized her.

  “Just say it out loud. Once. Keep it in and the fear will grow.” The words were whispered in her ear.

  Hushed. Private. Intended to be just between them, although Rassan’s keen hearing had probably picked them up.

  Arek’s thumb smoothed over her inner forearm. “The Imhara Kaal I know wouldn’t hide from this.”

  There was just enough taunting in his tone to stroke her temper. She fisted her hand, felt him shift his stance to intercept any blow she aimed at him. Instead, she turned her head, pulse pounding in her throat.

  Arek’s gaze never wavered from hers, radiating such strength she could almost feel it wrapping around her, holding her upright, daring her to use it to bolster her own. His compassion humbled her, and she blinked back tears at the way she’d lashed out at him.

  Particularly with such a public display of asinine behavior.

  It shamed her that she’d lost control like that. Her throat closed over and she swallowed hard.

  “When is the price of a dream considered too high, Arek? How many have to die to achieve it?” She drew in a shuddering breath. “You can’t guarantee their safety no matter who you know or your relationship with them.”

  This time his smile was warm and his hold on her arm gentled. “You’re assuming they’re not prepared to risk as much as you in this venture. Have you even asked for their opinion?”

  Rassan appeared at the corner of her eye. “What we’re doing is worth risking my life for, Imhara.” His green-flecked gaze remained steadfast. “We can predict, and organize, and anticipate the risks until our minds turn to mush, but you can’t let the fear of losing those you care about dictate your actions. To do that means condemning ourselves to living half a life.” He glanced over to where the others waited. “Are you willing to do that, Jaclan?”

  “No, Second.”

  “What about you, Channi?”

  “No, Second.”

  Imhara closed her eyes as Rassan asked every member of the group the same question and received the same answer. She blinked hard several times, too overwhelmed by their support to speak.

  Arek seemed to know though. His fingers interlocked with hers and squeezed. “You see, your Clan aren’t going to let you take that risk alone,” he murmured. “They’ve chosen to walk this journey with us.”

  “I suppose you’d all ignore my orders and follow me anyway?” Her raspy question incited a few chuckles. She dragged in another unsteady breath and nodded. Their support didn’t banish her fear, but it did make it easier to endure. “All right. Then let’s mount up and get moving.”

  Twigs and debris snapped underfoot as everyone moved at once, probably just in case she changed her mind. Imhara gave a wry smile.

  As Arek tugged to free his hand, she gripped it harder. His twilight gaze met hers. “Join me on the ride? After I’ve apologized for my atrocious behavior, I’d like you to show me your homeland.”

  He lifted her knuckles to his lips. “Only if you’ll accept the same from me.”

  Chapter 41

  THE half-day ride through the forest brought back a multitude of memories for Arek and left him feeling like he’d been thrown back in time to the day of the botched rescue mission.

  While they didn’t pass through the same clearing where they’d ambushed the Na’Reish patrol, he found his thoughts dwelling on the battle and how the outcome could dictate what happened over the next few days.

  Had his sacrifice saved Kalan, Varian, and his friends? If Kalan had died, his absence from the Blade Council could upset Imhara’s plans for a truce in so many ways. Sanctuary would be needed more than ever if that were the case. Kymora could help them in her role as Temple Elect.

  “Riders ahead!”

  Jaclan’s shout drew Arek from his reverie. Pulse leaping, he straightened in his stirrups and peered ahead through the trees, adrenaline already pumping in anticipation. He counted a dozen riders, all in armor.

  “It’s a patrol,” he called. “Imhara, pull your cloak over your head, and don’t remove it until I tell you to.” He began unbuckling his sword belt. “Anyone with weapons, hang them on your saddle.”

  “This venture is now in your hands, Arek.” Imhara tugged her hood up over her dark braid and low over her forehead. Excitement and trepidation glittered in her violet gaze. “Lady bless this meeting.”

  Arek was glad to see that their rocky start to the morning hadn’t soured the trust between them. He nodded and sent his own prayer to Her, petitioning the same. “We’ll stop in the next clearing and let them come to us.”

  The sight of a dozen of Her warriors astride their war-beasts, the sun emblem etched into their armor, had Arek’s breath catching in his throat. The familiar sight set his pulse pounding. The sensation of being home was almost overwhelming.

  The patrol spread out and encircled them. A single rider, farther afield, weaved his way through the trees, looking for any sign of ambush. Standard tactics. A shrill whistle assured the Light Blades no such trap was pending.

  As the riders converged on their position, Arek raised his hands in a nonthreatening gesture.

  “Lady’s blessing to you!” he called. “As you can see there are Na’Chi people among this group. Our weapons are on our saddles. Which of you is the Commander of this patrol?”

  “I am.” The warrior astride a brown-coated war-beast spoke up. “Commander Erron Sahn.”

  Arek didn’t know the man or the name. With over ten thousand Light Blades scattered across six provinces, he hadn’t expected to recognize him. His paler skin suggested maybe he came from somewhere in the High-Ranges Province. A winter rotation serving in Sacred Lake was probably a relief considering the icy weather in the mountains.

  “Commander, my name is Arek Barial, and I’m a Light Blade warrior like yourself. I’m travelling with this group of
people to Sacred Lake to meet with the Blade Council. . . .”

  “Arek?” His name was uttered in a startled voice. A rider, the one who’d checked for an ambush, kneed his animal forward.

  Arek grinned at the familiar voice. “Zaune?”

  Beneath the leather helmet, dark spots trailed down either side of the warrior’s tanned face. Light violet eyes met his, shock reflected in his lean features.

  The young Na’Chi scout leapt from his beast, his astonished expression so unlike his usual stoic demeanor. “You’re supposed to be dead!”

  His accusatory tone made him chuckle.

  “I’m very much alive.”

  “How? We searched for days and eventually found a body. It was so badly mauled. . . .” A frown marred his brow. “But he wore your amulet!”

  Yenass. The farmer who’d sacrificed his life to save his. A pang of regret surged through Arek.

  “You know this man, Zaune?” Sahn glanced between the two of them, his sandy brows veeing low.

  “I do, Commander. He was . . . I mean . . . is Second Barial.”

  Light blue eyes flickered over him. “Commander Tayn’s former Second in Command?”

  Arek jerked at the information. He should have expected to hear that he’d been replaced, especially as everyone had assumed him dead. But it was disconcerting to realize life had moved on without him.

  He shifted from one boot to the other. Who had taken on his command? And what about Kalan? Was he still alive?

  Sahn flung his leg over the saddle and joined Zaune on the ground. “Apologies, we’ve never met, but I’ve heard about you.”

  Arek clasped his outstretched forearm, relieved to have his identity confirmed by the young Na’Chi. And while his unexpected appearance no doubt raised a thousand questions—he had a few of his own—they would have to wait.

  “Commander, on my oath as a Light Blade warrior, I swear to you these people come in peace.” Arek half turned and nodded to Imhara. She stepped forward, pushing back the hood of her cloak. “This is Na Imhara Kaal, leader of the Na’Reish Clan Kaal, and she seeks a truce with the Blade Council. . . .”