Back and forth they clashed together. Sweat trickled into his eyes. Saran spun, aiming low and cut the youth off at the knees. The echo of his cry became a distant thought as Saran turned to the next warrior slashing his sword.
Ducking, Saran punched and swung in controlled moves. A quick glance showed his warriors doing well, shifting the tide of victory in their favor. Even as he fought another, Saran kept track of each warrior who fought with him. The other five warriors and Warlords with him were worth ten of Kuran’s.
Flushed with power after taking down the warrior in front of him, Fenal stirred. Killing frenzy rich in texture flowed over Saran. Blood amped, Saran roared in challenge to any takers.
Battle rage filled him as Saran raised his sword in challenge, letting it take over. From the corner of his eye, he spotted Casin confronting two of Kuran’s warriors. They had the Warlord backed against the crumbling wall of a small hut.
Normally such a fight wouldn’t concern Saran. Casin’s training included how to attack and defend in such a match. Unfortunately, the Warlord seemed to favor his right side and thin trails of blood ran along his torso to disappear into the waist of his leathers.
With a series of blows the warriors caught Casin off guard and he stumbled back. Evil grins creased their faces at the advantage. Casin regained his balance but the effort left him exposed. He kicked several crates between him and the others to create distance which they jumped over. Coming up behind him a third warrior sought to attack.
It became a race as Saran burst forward. Fenal gave him added speed as his thighs bunched and burned. Saran ran his sword through the nearest warrior. Sekkhim. He recognized the stunned expression on his face as he fell.
Casin took care of the next but the one who tried to sneak behind him lunged forward. Without thought Saran shoved his friend to the side and raised his right hand and blocked the blow. Burning pain lanced but Casin spun around, brought his sword up and ended the traitorous warrior. Together they gasped, taking a moment to catch their breaths. Blood dripped in a steady pattern from Saran’s right wrist and forearm, the pain a bare twinge.
Silence pierced through the veil. Saran glanced around to see fallen warriors but none from the Kaban holding. Only Kuran’s men had suffered today. A shout went up followed by chants.
“A fala fir Galip randala.”
Saran thrust his sword in the air and joined them with a mighty roar.
Chapter 20
Saran shifted his booted feet, his sword sheathed at his back.
“My thanks, Saran. I owe you a debt.” Casin clasped Saran’s left forearm in appreciation for his help against the warriors but did not release him. Pride reflected from Casin’s eyes. “You have proved yourself worthy to hold Kaban this day. All will speak of how fierce you battled.”
Saran had received several nods of admiration as well as praise from the warriors with him. Still hearing it from his friend meant more than he could say. In silence, he contemplated Casin’s words. He managed a brisk nod and tugged on his arm, freeing it from Casin’s grasp. When Saran spoke, he cared not that the depth of his emotions were revealed. “No thanks are needed between friends. I owe you for a debt that can never be repaid.”
Casin’s eyes widened and Saran knew his friend realized he meant more than this moment. It was Saran’s way of expressing his gratitude for Casin helping him to see what he almost lost with Melane.
“Then I should share she has never accepted another warrior’s invitation.”
Their gazes locked and held, both not speaking about what Casin revealed. Saran swallowed, humbled by another sign of Melane’s love for him and his friend’s loyalty. Melane showed him in a hundred ways how well she fit him. He’d chosen to push her away and almost this man as well. “I am thankful to call you friend.”
Casin cracked a grin. “You have made it most difficult on my part to maintain.”
Saran laughed, the sound laced with relief. He wanted to question Casin further but the village leader, Heath, came over and extended his arms to Saran to grip his shoulders then did the same with Casin.
“Our village offers you thanks, Warlords. We sent a messenger to the Overlord but did not expect help in time.”
“Overlord Vaan is aware of what happens and we will see that Kuran pays.”
Heath nodded. “We know the Overlord watches for us. If not for the sudden attack we would have managed to hold them off better. Our women and youngling needed protection.”
Females and youngling always received attention first. Their safety was of utmost importance because they could not defend themselves. “I will leave a few warriors behind in case Kuran seeks to come back. Tomorrow more warriors will arrive to help in rebuilding all you lost this day.”
Heath bowed, thanking them again then went off to help a struggling man lift a destroyed door from a stack of supplies. Once alone again, Casin said, “Kuran makes us run around like rabichet.”
Saran grimaced at the comparison to the fluffy creatures which chased their own tail and spun in circles. “In this I fear you have the right of it.”
Bran yelled out instructions for the clean up, drawing their gazes. He organized the villagers with minimum resistance. Two warriors also assisted.
Casin grunted and folded his arms over his chest. With a tilt of his head he singled out the Warlord. “All is not as it seems with that one.”
“Speak clearly, Casin.” No one brought complaints of Bran to Saran. Other Warlords showed him deference and the warriors under his command seemed satisfied with him as their leader.
Bran laughed uproariously and those he worked with said something which sparked another round of laughter. Saran shook his head. The Warlord also had a good way with people. The villagers liked him and Saran gave him his trust.
“He is ...like a council member. Too eager to please you.”
Turning back to Casin, Saran laughed in disbelief. “Not a bad thing my friend, yes?”
Casin continued to stare at Bran, no humor on his face. “Something is amiss and I cannot explain with words. My gut tells me to watch him closely.”
“You are overly concerned without cause.” Saran shrugged. “Watch him if you must but I am not worried.”
“Warlord Saran! Thank the Blessed One!”
Saran jerked around, a deep frown pulling his brows low at the shouts. A female in a fitting dress of dyed purple ran toward him and stopped shy of touching. Black hair fell about a heart shaped face of undeniable beauty. She blinked up at him, the brown of her eyes lit with some emotion he couldn’t read.
“What are you about?” Casin asked, blocking her from Saran.
Her chest heaved from her rushed pace across the village. Saran’s gaze dropped briefly before lifting back up. She peered around the bulk of Casin’s body. Avarice glittered from her eyes as she watched him, causing Saran his first moment of discomfort.
“I would return to Kaban, Warlord Saran. Would you be kind to escort and let me travel with your warriors? I fear to stay here alone.”
Folding his arms over his chest, Saran studied the woman. Her appearance prodded at his memory. Several of the Warlords and warriors who accompanied him straightened, their smiles hinting at their desire to have one of her looks back at the holding. There were many attractive women and though only Melane held his desire, Saran couldn’t deny the impact her appeal would have on others. An air of innocence, a touch of sweetness and lush curves to tempt a hardened warrior.
“What is your name?”
She cast a shy glance from beneath lowered lashes in his direction. “I am Helin, Warlord.”
He stiffened, the name aiding in why she seemed familiar. “You are friend to Melane?”
“Yes, Warlord.” Her head ducked but he caught the pink glow to her cheeks. “I moved here with another.”
He vaguely recalled her leaving to come to Sokal with a warrior or Warlord. “Where is he? Was he injured in the fight?”
Why else would she seek to l
eave?
Flush staining her entire face, Helin offered him a trembling frown. Tears shimmered on her lower lids. “We did not suit and parted ways but I stayed here. After today, I do not feel safe and wish to return home.”
It was not an unusual request, yet Saran hesitated to agree. A sense of foreboding warned it would not end well but she was Melane’s friend. To deny her a way home might appear cruel to the woman he wished to keep by his side. “You may come.”
She placed a tentative hand on his elbow to keep him from walking away. It was a forward move from one who did not share his bed. “If it would not offend, may I ride with you? I have no hapfe and those here are needed.”
Brushing off his unease, Saran softened in light of her circumstances. “We will leave soon. If you can be ready, we welcome you on the journey.”
Casin snorted, drawing Saran’s attention as Helin hurried away to gather her personal items.
As they prepared to depart, Bran joined Casin and Saran by their hapfes. “I spoke with a few here. Rumor claims you can use Helin to get to Kuran.”
They turned at this bit of news. Saran scanned the horizon as if to see the former Warlord. That was not the name of the one she left Kaban with. “What say you?”
Bran nodded, his look smug and arrogant. “I heard the talk while fixing one of the roofs that took damage in the attack. The warrior she recently parted from was none other than Kuran. Before he decided to betray Kaban, she shared his invitation.”
Surprise flashed through him. Her story of being afraid carried more weight if she parted ways from Kuran. Had she been the one to end things or had Kuran? It bared further investigation. Now was not the place or time though. “I will question her when we return home.”
“You should question her now, Saran,” Bran protested.
“Do you not see our people are in distress? We are fortunate there is no loss of life but to subject them to what may come of such conversation is ill-conceived. This is not the place for a talk of that nature.”
Helin appeared, a lone bag held in her hand as she trotted toward them. Saran expected her to say her goodbyes to any family and friends but her gaze lit on him and never strayed. Her pace picked up and she practically raced over the dirt encrusted ground.
His warriors and Casin stared intently at her bouncing breasts as she neared.
Bran frowned, and muttered, “It will be as you say, Saran.”
The disgruntled Warlord went off to retrieve his hapfe and waited by the other warrior ready to return to Kaban. Saran was leaving the other two to act as guards until he could send more.
***
Melane completed her duties for the day and accepted the gentle ribbing from her fellow servants. With a wicked stare, Neera nudged her with an elbow whenever their paths crossed. Once they were alone and had a break, her friend confronted her. “You and Warlord Saran have settled matters between you?”
Melane wanted to maintain her calm but excitement brought a smile to her face, which told its own story. “Yes. He made amends and offered invitation.”
“Do you think he will take you to bride?”
This was more daunting. He’d spoken of it briefly. “I trust that we both want the same thing.”
Before the last word left her mouth, Neera squeezed her tight in a hug. “It is what you wished for. There are many who have placed bets on you.”
Melane could only gape. “Neera!”
“It is true.” Neera laughed. “Warlord Saran chased you most diligently. There are some who say they will make the other warriors do the same. You have inspired them, Melane.”
Stunned, she could only stare. “What?”
Neera nodded and brushed her lengthy braid over her shoulder. “It is truth all watched you refuse a Warlord. The brother to our Overlord.” Neera lowered her tone and leaned forward. “Some whispered it was because you did not find him worthy any longer.”
Because of his injury. His hand. Melane growled, the fierce sound startling Neera. “He is and always will be worthy to me. Saran’s measure is not only in his ability to wield a sword.”
“That is why I am pleased to call you friend, Melane. Only you would dare to speak up and stand by a warrior who faced what Warlord Saran did.”
The concession did not ease her anger at the others speculating on her reason for denying Saran. Did he think she was with him because he’d maintained his status as Warlord? The change in their new relationship was different and untested. She wanted to be free to profess her love and hopefully Saran would do the same.
“It matters not,” Neera continued. “It is fact he trained with the Overlord’s Warlords in confidence. There are no better fighters than those who served with Overlord Vaan.”
Truth. She only hoped it paid off. This battle against Kuran’s warriors would be the first for Saran since the durvish.
“I just want him to return safely.” Her heart could accept no less and outside of the earlier sessions she had no idea how the trainings went with the Warlords.
Because of the attention Saran drew, the trainings had been deemed off limits and any violators who dared approach were threatened with facing the Overlord himself in explanation.
Melane knew Saran hated to have his brother’s interference in such but was grateful. Her Warlord was proud and she didn’t like how he’d struggled.
Linking their elbows together, Neera led her away. “Continue to hold your faith in him. When he returns, he will have renewed fire in his blood.”
Neera’s wink added to Melane’s blushing countenance.
Chapter 21
Saran should have known Casin would not let it pass. At least he waited until they were alone to speak. “Are you sure about this?”
Mounted on his hapfe, more than ready to depart and return to Melane, Saran blew out a breath. “What is there to question?”
Casin shook his dark head. “You will bring trouble to your own doorstep.”
Running a soothing hand down his hapfe’s neck, Saran frowned. “You would leave her as Kuran has left her to the mercy of others?”
Casin made a disbelieving sound under his breath. “She did not say such.”
Saran frowned. “None will protect her after she shared bed play with him.”
“She was his, Saran. Mayhap he did not dismiss her.”
It was a lot to take in. “Ever have you been clear with me, Casin. Speak your mind now.”
“I am thinking you should not trust her.”
To believe a woman capable of treachery astounded Saran. He tried to envision such and found himself unable to. “First you warn me of Bran and now you warn me of a harmless female. I think you are much in need of a distraction. Or have you grown soft?”
Casin leaped onto his hapfe and said a foul word to Saran that had him laughing until his sides hurt. It was good to be on sound footing with his friend again.
“Warlord Saran, my thanks again for your help. I am honored.” Helin had added red lip dye to her mouth, giving them a pouty appearance and color lined her eyes, lending them an exotic cast. None of it moved him. “I am ready to return to Kaban.”
Saran could not refuse in the face of Helin’s hopeful expression. There was also the matter of her friendship with Melane. Just the thought of Melane warmed a place inside. Saran couldn’t wait to return and not only because of his triumph here. Fenal faded but not the desire to expend the last of his energy in bed play.
Helin waited patiently beside him and Saran extended a hand to help her mount the hapfe in front of him. She wasted no time leaning her weight into him, her arms curving about his waist.
The ride back was not as hectic but Saran did not find it relaxing. Casin constantly shot him deriding looks occasionally narrowing his gaze on Helin, who huddled close to Saran, her arms tight about his waist as she pressed into him. Her touch was offensive, yet he didn’t want to shame her by pushing away if she really needed the grip to hold on.
When they arrived in the front c
ourtyard, they were greeted with loud cheers. Saran’s chest swelled with pride. This was why he was a Warlord. Questions flew about Kuran, the attack and those in the village. He allowed Bran and Casin to answer while getting down and helping Helin from the hapfe.
He must have put too much effort because she fell forward into his arms. When she regained her balance she smiled. If her hands lingered longer than necessary on his chest, he ignored it.
“Thank you, Warlord.”
Saran set her aside with an absent nod, his gaze going past the smiling faces and the ever growing crowd offering congratulations. He searched for one face in particular.
“Welcome back, Saran.”
The voice came from behind. Its soft and melodious notes flowing over him in reassurance. Saran turned and stared at Melane standing before him. She wasn’t wearing the blue and silver dress of the Galip household. Instead, the dark pink tunic with scooped neck added color to her face and the loose ankle length skirt flared out with its flourish of colors in pink, white and yellow.
Desire for her burst through him and he could not look away. She stared at him, a sliver of nerves displayed in her twisting hands. More feelings he had no idea how to process ran through him and the waning effects of Fenal left him off kilter.
“Melane, is that you?”
Helin’s voice broke the connection between them. For the first time, Melane looked away.
“Helin?”
Saran stepped to the side and the two had a clear view of one another. They squealed and grabbed each other in the way of women, talking over top of one another with fast words he had no way of understanding.
Saran cleared his throat when they parted, pleased that bringing Helin back made Melane happy. “Helin, welcome back to your home. Find a room to settle in.”
The woman gave Melane one last squeeze and disappeared inside with her bag. Before he knew what happened, Melane leaned on her toes and placed a kiss on his chin. The small touch seared bringing his toqa fully awake.
“You are friends?” There was no doubt after the way they greeted each other but he asked none the less. He brushed his thumb across her cheek, then her lips.
Unexpected Bride (Warlord Series Book 6) Page 15