In the small cell, he had a bed, a low table stacked with books, paper and ink, and a pot privy—a far cry from his luxurious apartment. No doubt his grandfather resented living there. Would his opinion have changed if he’d experienced any of the Na’Reish dungeons and cages he’d seen in his time in demon territory?
“I still have friends in the ranks, Grandson. Those who haven’t forgotten the meaning of friendship and loyalty.”
Months of incarceration hadn’t curbed the bite in his tongue.
“You asked me here to berate my behavior?” Arek grimaced, regretting his retort even as he said it.
Even after months of not seeing him, taunting his grandfather was such an ingrained response. Such had been the state of their relationship for so many years.
He ran a hand through his hair and pulled the chair out from under the table, the hollow wood scraping on the stone floor loud in the confined area, and sat down on it. He hadn’t come to argue.
Davyn grunted. “So, are you going to sit there and stare at me or explain how you’re still alive?”
Arek told him about Yenass’s sacrifice, his recounting terse and to the point.
Davyn shifted his bulky frame to the edge of the bench and into the light cast by the single lantern within his cell. Pale blue eyes stared intently at Arek from beneath silvered brows, his age-worn face no longer darkened by a tan.
Silver gray hair brushed the collar of his shirt, a longer style than he’d seen his grandfather wear in the past, but then the warrior no longer needed a close-cropped style to fit under a helmet. He’d been stripped of his Light Blade title.
Disgraced and shamed.
A life ruined by hatred. One he’d almost copied.
“So you ended up on a demon auction block?” The older man’s mouth twisted, his cheeks flushed a ruddy color. “A Na’Reish slave?” He pushed to his feet and came to the bars of his cell.
“Not exactly.” Arek wondered just how much he should reveal of his time spent in Na’Reish territory. He could already anticipate Davyn’s criticism. “It’s a complicated story.”
“Come here.” The request was gruff and Davyn’s eyes glistened in the ambient light. He reached his arms through the bars, large hands gesturing him forward, almost as if he were asking for a hug.
Surely the old man hadn’t mellowed with age, or perhaps his premature death and resurrection had made him rethink his attitude? Whatever the case, Arek joined him at the bars.
Hoping.
Once he was within grasping distance, his wrist was seized and the sleeve of his shirt tugged up.
“Mother of Light!” Davyn hissed and released him as if he’d been burned. “The rumors are true! You are a blood-slave.”
Loathing coated every word like the spittle gathered at the corners of his mouth. Several other curses blistered the air.
Harsh, hate filled, bitter.
All aimed at him, then Savyr.
The same tirade and mantra he’d heard all his life.
Arek clenched his fists. “I’m not going to waste my breath telling you why I have these marks on my arm. You won’t accept what I have to say anyway.” He didn’t bother to try to hide his disappointment or anger. “You’ve clung to your hatred for so long that it’s twisted you. And you tried to do the same with me!”
“I kept the memory of your parents alive. I made sure you knew who was to blame for ruining our lives.”
“You perpetuated lies.” Arek grasped the bars to Davyn’s cell. “Savyr hasn’t ruined your life. You have. Can’t you see that?” An ache started in his chest. There would be no point confronting him with his questions. “I came here hoping you might have changed. It hurts to see that you haven’t.” He shook his head. “There’s no reason for me to stay any longer. Lady bless you.”
He headed for the door.
“No blood-kin of mine would suffer the shame and humiliation of being a blood-slave. You betray everything we fight for!”
Arek flinched at the accusation. His jaw flexed. He should have expected it.
“The betrayal and shame is yours, Davyn.” He squeezed the latch. “It always has been. You know being a blood-slave is one of Her Gifts to us. Yet you continue to deny the truth.” He lifted the latch and sunlight streamed into the room. “Good-bye, Grandfather.”
“I’m not your grandfather. I don’t recognize you.” The pitch of the tirade rose. “You’re not my grandson! He died months ago. With honor. Fighting those he hated with every breath. That’s the way I’ll remember him.”
Arek stepped through the door. The two Light Blades outside turned, their expressions a mixture of astonishment and sympathy.
Inhaling a deep breath, he pulled the door shut with a firm snick. The door muffled Davyn’s shouting. The vibration of the latch catching eased the ache inside his chest.
“I’m ready to return to the apartment now.”
Back to Imhara.
His journey with Davyn was finished.
Chapter 44
LACING her fingers together in her lap to hide their shaking, Imhara schooled her face into an attentive expression, one she’d used frequently when attending an Enclave. The scrape of wooden chairs on stone was loud within the Blade Council chamber as Rassan took the seat next to her, his large frame almost dwarfing the one he sat in.
Arek was the last to sit. He acknowledged all the Councilors with a half bow before pulling out the chair to her left. Behind them the double doors thudded shut as the Light Blade guards sealed them within the windowless room.
Imhara bowed her head as Temple Elect Sartor gave the opening prayer. After countless meetings over the last few days, the Council had made its decision. They were ready to announce whether they would agree to a truce with her Clan.
Finally.
Kalan slowly rose from his seat. His expression was as inscrutable as those seated alongside him. A prickling began between Imhara’s shoulder blades as his silence drew out.
She inhaled a steady breath, but there were too many scents mingling in the air to decipher which was his. They overlapped one another, a ripe combination, with no clue as to the outcome of the decision pending.
“This has been a long few days of discussions and deliberations,” he began, voice carrying clearly through the room so that everyone could hear him. “The lost knowledge you’ve shared with us and the discoveries made, Na Kaal, have been enlightening, exciting, and confronting, on many levels.
“As you’ve learned, several months ago we faced a similar situation when Annika and the Na’Chi arrived here. Their existence revealed the shared history of our three races, and a conspiracy that almost brought us to civil war. The results were several hard lessons learned, not the least of which is that change takes time.”
Kalan smoothed a hand over the cover of one of her ancestors’ journals, and his gaze glazed over as if he were seeing something in his mind.
“For us, the Old Ways are a step forward, a future to aim for, and it’s reassuring to see the progress we’ve made over the last few months with the Na’Chi has set us on this path.
“That your ancestors were able to maintain this tradition over hundreds of years, and to see you continue it, despite the culture you were forced to endure, is a prime example that we can only aspire to. Your people honor the tenets of the Lady in the truest sense of Her teachings.”
Here Temple Elect Sartor nodded, his dark gaze meeting hers, and his smile was full of warmth. Imhara inclined her head, pulse beating rapidly. Kalan slid the journal across the wooden table toward her, his smile brief.
“Our Guild-masters have expressed great interest and have spoken favorably of a sharing of skills, with particular reference to your Gifts and healing abilities.”
Here the Chosen glanced at Councilor Candra. The older woman gave a succinct nod of agreement.
“And the information you’ve shared with us concerning Na’Rei Savyr will prove valuable in the coming days. I tell you this so that you’ll und
erstand the Council does acknowledge a truce may be possible with the Kaal Clan. We can see the benefits of everything you’ve shared with us.”
Imhara’s heart rate lifted, and she swallowed against a dry throat, wishing she dared take a sip of water from the cup in front of her.
Kalan’s gaze swept over the room, and for the first time, a shadow flickered through his gaze. “The Council though has decided that a truce is inadvisable at this time.”
Every muscle in her went tight as the meaning of his words sank in. She clenched her hands beneath the table, unable to think for several heartbeats after the announcement.
The majority had voted against the truce?
Her request had been denied?
“What?” Arek’s startled outburst echoed the shock beginning to settle into her body.
What sort of future did that mean for her Clan? Where did that leave her? Her parents’ legacy?
“I see.” Barely a thread of sound came from her throat.
“Well, I don’t!” Arek rose from his chair, shaking his head. He leaned across the table, blue eyes glittering. “What do you mean you’ve voted against the request? What are the last few minutes of that speech supposed to mean?” Every word cut through the air like a knife. “You build up the Kaal Clan’s hope and now dash it with an unfavorable result? That’s coldhearted and cruel, Kalan!”
Arek’s impassioned words made Imhara’s throat close over.
“Arek.” She reached for his hand, her smile brittle. “Let him finish speaking.”
His fingers twined with hers, his grip hard. The skin over his cheekbones pulled tight as his jaw flexed.
Yet the tension in the air didn’t just radiate from him. It came from across the table as well, but again with so many odors fighting for dominance in the air, Imhara had trouble distinguishing whom the tension belonged to.
“We received a message two days ago from the Commander of the border patrol post in Tianda. The Na’Reish have started their assault on our territory.” Here Kalan glanced to Imhara. “An advanced force of nearly a thousand Na’Hord have been spotted crossing Whitewater River at one of the locations you identified, Na Kaal. They’ve set up an encampment on our side of the border. Tianda was attacked night before last. The war has begun.”
Imhara’s heart pounded and an icy shiver ran through her as she shared a look with Rassan. Arek sank into his seat, cursing under his breath.
Shadows flickered in the green depth of Kalan’s gaze. “This decision to delay the truce between our peoples has not been made lightly, Na Kaal.” His tone turned bleak. “With war now upon us, the Council feels our efforts must first be to protect our border.”
“The Kaal have resources that can help you.” Arek’s voice was gruff. “Surely you all can see that!”
“They do but you’re forgetting what happened when we tried to move too fast with an alliance before, Commander. The conflict brought about by such a change almost tore us apart. The Council are concerned that this could happen again at a time when our focus needs to be on the border.” Kalan grimaced and his voice softened. “I’m sorry, Imhara. Please understand our position.
“Personally, and I know several here share my view, I would agree to the truce in a heartbeat. Yet I serve . . . we all serve others outside this chamber who won’t or can’t accept such swift changes, and now more than ever, the people need stability.” He drew in a deep breath. “When you’re ready to leave, you’ll be given safe passage to return across the border.”
Imhara pushed to her feet, every limb feeling heavy. The strident scraping of the chair on the floor raked across raw nerves. For half a heartbeat, she thought about appealing their decision. Glancing at each Councilor, she took in each expression, gauging her chances.
Some were stoic, others resolute. Some like Annika, Kalan, Sartor, and Candra were unhappy. That was some consolation, given she’d enjoyed the brief time she’d spent getting to know them.
The truth though sent a cold shiver down her spine. Her heart thudded painfully in her chest.
There would be no truce.
Despite Kalan’s encouraging words of possible future negotiations, conflict had a way of pushing other priorities aside. A war with the Na’Reish would last months, perhaps years.
As for what it meant for her personally . . .
Light, the pain in her heart was enough to steal her breath.
Any future she imagined sharing with Arek was gone, stolen by a duty that bound him to Sacred Lake. His oath to protect his people would send him to war with the Na’Reish.
Without a truce, there would be no visits. No chance for her to see him. And no point in pursuing a relationship that couldn’t be sustained. Her throat closed over.
Like a candle in a windstorm, the last of her hope spluttered and died.
Reaching out, Imhara smoothed her fingers over the leather-bound journal Kalan had pushed toward her. Her hands shook as she lifted it.
Instead of hope she’d return home with nothing but bad news.
Merciful Mother, she’d condemned them all to total isolation.
And, in time, death.
Everything she’d fought for, every sacrifice made, every life lost to get to this point now seemed such a waste. She’d failed her people again.
She should feel angry, disappointed, sad.
Something.
Instead she just felt tired. Drained.
And . . . empty.
“Then we’ll leave first thing tomorrow morning.” Imhara swallowed hard and forced more strength into her voice. “For what it’s worth, Chosen, the Kaal Clan will defend against any Na’Reish incursion, and we will assist any Light Blade patrol at our border. Kaal territory will be a safe haven for any human or Na’Chi, regardless of the Blade Council’s decision.” She met his gaze. “Even if you don’t see it, the Na’Reish are as much our enemy as yours.”
“I understand.” Kalan inclined his head. “Thank you, Na Kaal.”
“Perhaps, in time, the Council might reconsider its decision.” The words were as hollow as she felt. The ghost of a smile curved her lips. “Until then, may the Lady protect and bless us all.”
For the first time, she found no comfort in the familiar salutation. Turning on her heel, she nodded to Rassan and headed for the exit. She left Arek sitting at the table, unable to look at him and keep control of herself. She didn’t want to see his outrage or empathy. The scent of both was strong enough to make her step falter as it was.
Outside the chamber their Light Blade sentries rose from the benches. The walk back to their quarters was in silence. Every step closer to the room grew harder and harder. As one of the Light Blade warriors pushed open the wooden door, those who had come with her across the border, spurred on by their shared dream, turned where they sat or stood, their expressions expectant.
Hopeful.
Imhara paused on the threshold, her fingers numb as they gripped the journal tighter. Rassan’s hand came to rest on her shoulder.
“Remember, She walks with us, Imhara,” he murmured. “This path might end here, but our journey continues, just in a different direction.”
But which direction?
For so long she’d moved them all along one path, their destination clear; now they stood at a cliff edge with no discernible or alternate route.
They couldn’t go forward. The Blade Council ensured that.
They couldn’t go back. The Na’Reish would never welcome them. Every member of their Clan now had a price on their head.
No alternate answer was forthcoming. Perhaps in time the Lady would reveal Her path for them. Meanwhile, endurance seemed to be the lesson of the day.
“We’ve faced difficult times before.” Her Second squeezed her shoulder. “We can do it again. Just have faith that She will show us the way rather than trying to guess it now.”
Imhara gave a half laugh, half grunt. “You’re scary when you do that, you know?”
“Do what?”
&
nbsp; “Know what I’m thinking.”
His soft chuckle warmed her. “Come on, let’s tell everyone together.”
Together.
The word gave Imhara the strength she needed, at least for now.
Taking a deep breath, and with Rassan at her side, she stepped into the room to deliver the less than satisfactory news.
Chapter 45
THE silence in the Council Chamber was absolute as Imhara and Rassan walked out. The huge carved doors closed behind them, and Arek forced himself to wait another ten minutes as the Councilors filed out, leaving only Kalan, Annika, and Candra in the room with him, before he rose once more from his chair.
The heat inside him reminded him of a furnace used to melt steel. All consuming and powerful yet also destructive. His skin burned with it from the inside out.
“What a farce of a decision, Chosen.” Harsh criticism leveled at his friend, knowing the vote had been a joint one, yet he didn’t care. His gaze strafed the three of them. “Imhara’s given her life to seeing this truce succeed. You all know that, yet you allow others’ fears to dictate your journey, your future.”
He made a rude sound of disgust and jabbed a finger at them.
“Dangling the possibility of a truce in front of her without a time line is despicable. She may have thanked you for your consideration, but she doesn’t believe it’ll ever happen. Neither do I.”
He sucked in a hard breath. Right now his temper, just like impure metal placed in the furnace, threatened to explode. He held on to it, but only just.
“If I had my Light Blade amulet around my neck, I’d break the chain and lay it down here.”
Kalan’s dark brow arched. “You’d resign from your role as a Light Blade warrior?”
He gave a sharp nod. “Yes.” The moment he uttered the word, the burning inside him eased, almost like someone had placed a barrier between it and him. “I’ve walked my last journey within these walls.”
“What path do you take now?”
Allegiance Sworn (A NOVEL OF THE LIGHT BLADE) Page 36