Alamir: Blood of Kaos Series - Book One

by Nesa Miller

  Spirit’s smile faded. “Tell me, Etain.”

  Noting the serious tone in her voice, she looked up. “Aye?”

  “What changed your mind about Darknight?”

  Inferno scooted to the back door. “Sounds like girl talk to me. Think I’ll go see where me mutts have gotten to.”

  Done with the bread, Etain watched him walk out, then turned to the soup. “I guess I have to thank Faux for that.”

  “Faux?”

  “Well, you remember I told you about her attempt to kill me?” Spirit nodded. “And how Dar showed up and brought me back?”

  “Aye, I remember. She tried to kill you, yet you fight to save her life.”

  “Weird, huh?”

  “Why would she want you dead?”

  “She blamed me for her exile.”

  “Exile?” Spirit was more than a little surprised. “What the bloody hell did she do?”

  “Her first mistake was joining the dc2a clan.” Etain poured the warm soup into a bowl. “I told her they were trouble.”

  “They weren’t in the early days,” Spirit said, popping a piece of ham into her mouth. “What was the second?”

  Etain placed the bowl on a tray. “She stayed when it kicked off.”

  Eyes wide, Spirit stared at her. “That was her?”

  “She didn’t start it. Faux was being Faux, which intimidated the…less confident members. I told her to get out. Somehow, in her twisted mind, it became my fault she was blamed for splitting the clan.”

  “Did she?” Spirit cut a sandwich in two. “Split the clan?”

  “No.” Etain added a spoon and napkins to her tray. “I’m not saying she was completely innocent. The true culprits were the ones who envied her position and influence.”

  “You never mentioned how you two met. Is she a friend of Dar’s?”

  “Uh, not exactly.” Avoiding eye contact, she fiddled with the dishes on the tray, positioning each one just so. “That was part of the reason for his invite. Dar wanted to meet her.”

  “Hmmm,” Spirit gave her a long, hard look. “She wasn’t part of the clan?”

  “Since dc2a, she’s never aligned with another clan.”

  “Then why would she now?”

  “Huh?” Etain appeared lost.

  “Your first day back, you said you wanted us to watch over her. It’ll be fair easy whilst she’s down, but once the lass is back to herself, I doubt she’ll agree to it.”

  “Well, yeah. I don’t know what I was thinking.”

  The butties done, Spirit set a kettle on for tea. “What about the man?”

  Etain placed a few sandwiches on the tray, her voice quiet, almost reverent. “He avenged my family, Spirit. He tracked down the demon and killed him…for me. He profited nothing from it but broken ribs and a sleepless night.”

  “Uh-huh. Let me tell you something, lass. I know he’s a Krymerian, but from what I’ve heard about this one, he’s a man like any other when it comes to motivation. I’ve seen the way he looks at you. A man doesn’t do what he’s done without a reason, Etain.”

  She grabbed the tray, the color draining from her face. “I’ve got some hungry people to feed. Thanks, Spirit.”

  Spirit muttered to herself as the girl walked out. “Ah, lass, meeting Faux was an excuse.”

  10

  Mists of Protection

  Later that evening, Spirit stopped by Faux's room to check on her patients. Happy to see the girl resting comfortably, she directed Dar and Etain to their rooms down the hall and bid them good night. The couple stacked the dirty dishes on the tray and tidied up until Faux fell asleep.

  Dar pulled Etain to him. “Let us go to bed. I am dead tired.”

  “You look exhausted. You should’ve been in bed hours ago,” she said, happy to be in his arms again.

  Walking down the hall, they came to the first open door, peeking inside. A room of magnolia walls and mahogany furniture invited them in. Stripping in his usual manner, Dar headed straight for the bed, which was already turned down, and slipped between the sheets. Standing just inside the doorway, Etain admired the ripple of muscle as he moved. At the glimpse of a beautiful backside, she turned to inspect the wall coverings in depth. It wasn’t that she’d never seen a naked man before, living in close quarters with them made it impossible to ignore, but this man was so alive, so full of passion. Passionate about her, no less, and…he was hers. Having that knowledge, she wasn’t sure what to do with him, but she knew she would never let him go.

  Please give him patience.

  Dar patted the covers. “Etain, come here.”

  “Spirit said rooms. I’ll just be across the hall.”

  “Come here.”

  “Dar.” Her voice was barely audible.

  “All we will do tonight is sleep. I am too tired and too sore to think about anything else.” A sly grin came to his lips. “Well, I may think about it, but I promise that's all. Come here, mo chuisle.”

  Unable to resist, she closed the door and walked to the bed, the emotions obvious on her face. He took her hand in his. “I meant what I said. I will not force you to do anything you’re not ready to do, but I want you by my side…always.”

  Still unsure of what he expected from her, she delayed a little longer. “What is mo chuisle?”

  “It means ‘my heart’.” His hand slid up her arm and gently pulled her down to sit next to him. “I’m not able to put what I feel for you into words just yet. But you are my heart, Etain. Mo chuisle.” A shared kiss convinced her to trust his words. She turned, removed her boots, and carefully rolled over, settling in on the other side of the bed. Dar laughed. “Surely you're not comfortable.”

  She looked over her shoulder at him. “No, but it is safe.”

  “But nothing. Take off your clothes and wrap that luscious body around mine. You've nothing I haven't seen before.”

  Her eyes widened. “Such a thing for a gentleman to say to a lady.”

  “My lady, and who said I was a gentleman? I’ll have their head.” Laughing at her indignant look, he said, “It is a little late for modesty, Etain.”

  Seeing the glint in his eye, she shifted on the bed, facing him. “I believe it’s my lack of modesty that’s gotten us here.”

  “You could be right. When you removed your shirt at the practice ring at Sólskin…”

  She grabbed a pillow. He lifted his arms, deflecting her playful swat.

  “Dar VonNeshta! You were awake the whole time?”

  “Tartarus, help me. It was all I could do not to crush those beautiful breasts against me and-”

  “You cheeky little-” Another swat of her pillow found him defending with his own.

  “This is going to hurt.” He pushed up, tackling her onto the bed with a definitive grunt, pinning her beneath him. Her scream of surprise was lost in their shared laughter.

  “That didn’t hurt at all,” she said.

  “I wasn’t talking to you,” he groaned, rolling over and lying next to her.

  “Are you okay?” She automatically began inspecting his bandaged body.

  He caught her hand in his and lifted it to his lips. “It was worth it, milady.” His breath was warm against her flesh, his mouth soft and suggestive. “Take off your worldly façade and be my sweet Etain.”

  Her trust in this man had grown considerably in such a short time. She held his gaze. His love and appreciation easy to see, she discarded the leather top. Shedding her inhibitions, she wiggled out of the rest of her clothes, throwing them onto the floor. Dar drew her close and rested her head on his bandaged chest. Exhaling a contented sigh, he fell into an immediate sleep. She yawned, relaxed by the beat of his strong heart.

  Inferno isn’t going to like this one bit.

  By sunrise, Spirit was up and dressed, and lightly knocking on Dar’s door. A lack of response had her entering the room. It was no surprise to find Etain there…naked, no less. If Inferno found out she had shared Dar’s bed, the Krymerian would be out th
e door, if not dead, no questions asked.

  Moving to Etain’s side of the bed, she placed a hand on her back. “Wake up, my lovely. It’s time to rise and shine.” She smiled when the blue eyes opened. “Dar’s made a good start of bridging the gap with Inferno, but let’s not burn the bridge before it’s built. Aye? Hurry up. We’ll have a woman to woman chat while we fix breakfast. I expect you downstairs in five.”

  “Yes, mummy,” she muttered. Waiting until she heard the click of the closing door, Etain rolled over and ran her fingers lightly down Dar’s face. “I gotta go,” she whispered, placing a kiss on his earlobe.

  A smile turned up the corners of his mouth. “Where you going?” he murmured, rolling toward her.

  She escaped his grasp, tossing the covers over his head. “Clean-up detail.”

  Dar peeked out from under the duvet. “I should join you since I helped make the mess.” He threw back the covers.

  She stopped him with a hand to his chest, doing her best to keep her eyes on his face. “No. You’ll stay here and rest, give Inferno time to adjust to our new alliance.”

  “All alone?” He pouted, puppy dog eyes in full force. Etain ignored his attempt and turned away, picking up her shirt. Noting his ploy to stay close to her had failed, he frowned. “All right. Then here I shall remain all day, all alone, resting.” Before leaving, she stopped by the bed and caressed his cheek. He pulled her down for a thorough kiss. “Make sure you wake me for supper.”

  “What about lunch?” she asked, breathless.

  “I think you are right. A nice long rest is exactly what I need.” He settled back. “Don’t work too hard.”

  As soon as the door closed, Dar got up and carefully removed his bandages, laying them on the bed. He placed his pillows on top of them and pulled the covers up. Admiring his handiwork, he dressed in black jeans and t-shirt. Anyone deciding to peek in would find the High Lord resting, as instructed. He opened a portal to his homeland.

  Standing amongst the ruins, he surveyed the horizon from right to left, then turned around, doing the same. He counted out ten paces, stopped, and surveyed the area again. Not much had changed during his absence. The grass had grown, decorated by various flowers and the odd weed. Happy with his findings, he turned left, counting five paces. An old Krymerian chant revealed a massive metal door set in the ground. Its surface smooth as glass, it boasted no visible handle, lock, or decoration. He could hear the tumblers clicking into place. Opening the door, he followed the stairs down into the family vault full of dust-covered heirlooms.

  Time to earn your keep.

  He gathered items of the finest silver, including a cherished goblet of his mother’s, made of a rare metal found only on Krymeria. Its strength rivaled that of the human metal titanium, but was easier to shape once heated and much lighter.

  Arms full, he headed to where the smithy once plied his trade. A simple command brought the forge together. Dar dumped the metals into a large smelting pot, then returned to the vault. In a far corner was a bag tied off at the top. Hefting it over his shoulder, he carried it to the forge, untied the rope, and dumped the contents into the pot. A flash of his solar ultima set the forge ablaze. While the fire heated, he located an anvil, hammers, pliers, and chisels, setting them within easy reach. Satisfied with the fire’s progression, he set the smelting pot over it.

  Back at the metal door, he ventured deeper into the vault. “Doras nochtann.” Another hidden door opened. A wave of his hand lit several torches, illuminating the room with a soft glow. Going to a large crevice in the farthest corner, he reached into the dark opening, his arm disappearing up to the shoulder. A few seconds later, he pulled out three pouches - diamond dust, crushed blood rubies, and powdered onyx. Setting them to the side, he reached in again. This time, he brought out a long gold rod and several smaller ones of silver, a heavy onyx block, and a long crystal shard. He returned to the forge, taking his time to assemble and inspect his assorted equipment.

  Once the metal had reached the perfect molten consistency, he poured the concoction into several large forms and set them aside. Grabbing a nearby bucket, he walked to the nearby stream. The air smelled of early spring, fresh, green, and floral, so different from the oncoming autumn at Laugharne. Dar lay on his belly at the edge and dipped his face into the cold, clear water, taking a refreshing gulp. Afterward, he filled the bucket and doused himself. Bucket refilled, he returned to the cooling blocks of metal. Rooting around the base of the forge, he found a trough of wood, filled it halfway with water, and carefully set the metal blocks into it.

  Once cooled, Dar began working one block. Strikes of his hammer, assisted by magical Krymerian words, flattened the block into a thin sheet. At first, it was difficult to wield the heavy hammer. His ribs ached. His wounds burned from the sweat rolling off his body. As time passed, though, the pain subsided and his movements became more fluid. The rough metal transformed into a smooth, curved skin, fashioning into a breastplate. Using a similar technique, albeit more magic than sweat due to the passage of time, he worked the next block into the shape of a helm, setting the pieces side by side.

  He poured a handful of crushed blood rubies and a handful of the powered onyx onto the anvil. One hand dipped into the rubies and the other into the onyx. Chanting a spell, he cast them into the air.

  “Cumhachtaí a ceangal tú dom (Powers that be, bind you to me).”

  The deep red rubies sparkled and the onyx set off flashes of reflected light. They twisted and turned, rising into the air, as Dar directed the gems toward the armor. Repeating the spell, he cast the diamond dust in the shape of a dragon. Satisfied, he turned to the gold rod, softened the metal until it was easy to manipulate, then shaped it into a pattern to complement the diamond dust. At that point, he used the silver, working it into the helm.

  With the pieces decorated to his satisfaction, Dar stepped back for the finishing spell. “Bandia an dragan, a chosaint mo chroí, a choinneáil slán aici (Goddess of the dragon, protect my heart, keep her safe).”

  Last was the long shard of crystal. The warrior struck a fine edge along each side. Fashioning a hand-guard and hilt from the final block, he inserted the crystal through the hollowed-out center. Holding it in his hands, he closed his eyes and concentrated on his core, raising his inner heat. Channeling the heat into his hands, the hand-guard forged around the crystal. “Criostail de mo athair a bheith fíor (Crystal of my father be true).” A quick slash across a palm added his blood to the remaining crushed rubies before he cast them into the air. “I name thee Nim’Na’Sharr, the Righteous Hand of Fate.” Scarlet dust cascaded over the sword, bonding with it in an instant, the runes of strength, courage, and wisdom emblazoned on the face of the blade.

  Exhausted, the High Lord took a well-deserved rest, admiring his work.

  A short time later, he gathered up the tools, returned them to the underground vault, and locked the door with a murmured spell. Collecting the armor and sword, he reopened a portal to his room at Laugharne, placing the armor so it would be the first thing Etain saw when she came into the room.

  Refreshed by a hot shower, he strapped the bandages back on as best he could and crawled into bed.

  In the early afternoon, the demolition trio stopped work for a light lunch. While Spirit and Inferno made a bite to eat in the kitchen, Etain went upstairs to check on the patients.

  Coming to Dar’s room, she quietly opened the door and poked her head in. The covered mound in the bed told her he was resting. She longed to touch him, to make sure he was real. She stepped into the room and walked quietly toward the bed. Reaching out, her hand hovering over the covers, she remembered the last time she had interrupted his sleep. Curling her hand into a fist, she left him to his dreams.

  At the stairs, she remembered Faux, rolled her eyes, and made a quick turnaround, heading back down the hall. She peeked inside and found her sound asleep, but felt the hairs on her arms raise. Stepping inside, eyes sharp for anything out of the ordinary, she walk
ed around the room. Everything seemed to be in its proper place. She went to Faux’s side, touched her forehead, and chuckled, finding it cool.

  “Get it together, Etain.”

  Satisfied both were well on their way to recovery, she joined Inferno and Spirit for a lunch of beef sarnies and potato salad. Their conversation flowed from plans for the lounge and possible additions, to future travels. Inferno shared stories of past excursions he and Spirit had taken. Etain didn’t think it important to mention the strange feeling she’d experienced in Faux’s room, chalking it up to her overprotective nature.

  She brought the talk around to the children. “Are the kids coming home soon?”

  “They're not due back for a while. Little ones underfoot with all this construction would be another disaster,” Spirit said.

  “I guess so, but I’d love to see them.”

  Spirit smiled, patting her hand. “Let’s get things back to normal, whatever that is…” She winked, “then we’ll see about bringing the wee sprites home.”

  Etain nodded, content with her reasoning. “What about the rest of the clan? I haven’t seen anyone else since we got here.”

  Spirit cleared the dishes while Inferno explained. “I sent Zorn out to round ‘em up. Most’ll be here tomorrow.”

  “Okay, but where have they been all this time?”

  “Out doing what clan members should be doing…patrolling the perimeter, making sure there’s no creepy crawlies making themselves at home and thinking to give us a nasty surprise. I sent Wolfe and Elfin, ya haven’t met them yet, off to UKElyte with a few breeding mares in exchange for a new stud. They ought to be back late today or tomorrow.”

  “Will any of them have a problem with Dar being here?”

  Inferno gave her a thoughtful eye. “If they do, they’ll keep it zipped and not say a word.” He rose from his seat. “Unless something gives ‘em reason to unzip it.” He finished off his tea and took the cup to the sink. “Let’s get back to work.”

  After a long day, Inferno decided nothing else could be done without more help. They parted company for a rest before a late tea. Etain offered to check on Faux, but Spirit waved her off, saying she would have a peek on the way.