by Dana Davis
Time was running short and First Noble, that hotheaded Kepriah of Landerbury, bastard sister to Damon, was leading the Trine on some folly to restore the Pewter Throne. Those idiot girls thought two ill-mannered peasant children would return Abandoned City to its former glory. None could remember such glorious days, not even Jakon, for the eastern uprisings began when he was just a babe. Everyone thought the wars began about twenty-five years ago, but Nyanan witnessed squabbles long before that. By the time full-out war covered the entire territory, there was nothing left to restore.
The girls should be learning about their Faytools every waking moment. Idiots. Nyanan had read all the texts she could get her hands on, some of which were now nothing but dust, and nowhere did they mention the Pewter Throne having anything to do with the hoisting.
If you want something done right you have to do it yourself, she remembered her mother saying all too often. It’s up to me now. I will take the Trine’s powers and return Selenea’s third moon to the skies. I will see it done, Mother. Her mother had been a formidable leader, as strong as any man, with a talent for magic. She died centuries ago but Nyanan still missed her terribly. Melancholy threatened and she pulled from her thoughts. No time for living in old memories.
Like a screech cat, she stretched languidly and listened to the pre-dawn sounds around her. Her old body needed more rest but that would have to wait. She had to bring each of the Trine independently to the Hollow, which took longer than manipulating all three at once, but was much safer. She could not chance one of them getting her wits and waking the others into action like before.
Nyanan could camouflage herself in the Hollow, an added bonus in which she took full advantage. She had accidentally come upon that talent the first time she had ventured there in her sleep. The Guardian had given her a fright, making her want to hide from him, and the spell pushed from her lips before she realized it. Of course, she had witnessed how to camouflage in her youth, since her mother had that talent, but she had never been able to do it herself. Until that night. And only in the Hollow.
As long as she knew where they were in the real world, Nyanan could manipulate those who slept, and she regularly traveled to the Hollow of the Dead to keep her magic sharp. From the Hollow, each person had a different vibration, a distinct touch against her mind. Such a strange feeling. Using Magic from the Hollow took a lot out of her, but at least that bothersome Guardian had given up telling her to go away. He still gave her a look that said she had no business among the dead but never went beyond that anymore. Even from her first day there, she had ignored his nonsense.
Of course I have business there. Why else would the Moirai allow me to travel to the Hollow? And for so long now? But now I am not the only one. That thought caused her to shiver.
Larisa was a healer, yet the talisman gave her the ability to travel among spirits in a way that Nyanan could only dream. If that girl ever figures out her power over the dead, I will have an awful time getting past her. The right spell from Second Noble could trap a living person in the Hollow among the spirits and force that person into Soul River for rebirth. Or torment then rebirth, whichever the Moirai decided. Nyanan shuddered at that thought.
Stop acting a fool. Those girls cannot possibly defeat you. They are bright, yes, but they are also shortsighted, young, and much too inexperienced. Self-berating made her feel better and she decided to get up and greet the early morning. Or conquer it, rather.
Chapter 25
Someone shook Kepriah awake and her eyes flew open. The fire smoked and sizzled as though someone had just put it out, the rain had stopped, and the sky twinkled with more stars than she could count. Her eyes felt gritty as she focused on Jakon’s shadowy figure. He motioned that someone approached.
Oh, he put out the fire. Good move, Jakon. She stood and held her hand out for the scepter. It obediently flew to her and slapped against her palm. Jakon moved quietly to wake her sisters and Gail.
Once the rest were up and huddled in one corner together, Jakon and Kepriah stood on either side of the doorway. She twisted around to peer outside. Trapped in a barn with no door and no place to hide. Jabber shit! Some leader you are, Kepriah of Landerbury, putting everyone in danger like this.
Three shadowy figures, male from what she could tell, slinked toward the barn beneath the moonslight. Her heart slammed against her ribs in a frantic beat and she steadied her hands on the scepter. Bounty hunters? They usually worked alone, but sometimes hired undesirables to help. Maybe raiders. Either scenario meant trouble.
Gail whimpered as the men’s footfalls sounded outside the barn and Larisa hushed her. One of the men stepped inside, knife drawn. Jakon took him down with barely a struggle. Kepriah waited for the second man and once he crossed the threshold, she used the scepter as a fighting staff and knocked him to the dirt floor.
“Secure them,” she said to Patrice, who stepped from the shadow and aimed her ring. It did not take her long to bind air around the men. “And keep Jakon camouflaged.” She waited for the third man but he seemed to take his time.
When four men charged the barn prepared for resistance, Kepriah took a blade to the arm before she got in a strike with her scepter. Jabber shit on a hot day! Where did the others come from? I did not see them. Gail screamed and one of the men turned on her. Larisa stepped in front of the weeping girl, one hand on the talisman at her neck. Kepriah brought the scepter up, ready to strike at anyone who got too close to her sisters, as she began calming her mind. She had never conquered this many wills at one time and doubts threatened. Her instinct was to draw a sword and she had to fight that urge to focus on the scepter.
Suddenly, one of the men cried, “Stop! Stop!” The others obeyed and everyone stood still, eyes darting around in the dim light. “Kepriah? Kepriah of Landerbury?”
“Who wants to know?” She kept her scepter close, ready for a fight. Though there were more than would normally travel together, they could still be bounty hunters. When the man took slow steps closer to her, until she saw scars on both his cheeks and his disfigured nose.
“Palith?” She lowered the scepter slightly. “Jabber shit! I thought you were dead.”
“Me too.” He bellowed a laugh and opened his arms in a soldier’s welcome. The two embraced and pounded each other on the back.
“You know him, Noble?” Jakon kept his sword pointed at one of the men and a knife at another.
“He is Manry’s brother.” Elation at seeing the man did not quell her caution, though. He looked harder than she remembered and much thinner, not surprising given where they were right now. What would he do? Would he honor his warrior oath and call his men off? Kepriah’s heart kept a steady gallop as she waited.
“Stand down, boys.” Palith eyed Kepriah again. “We are welcome here, are we not, friend?”
She smiled at the long-held tradition and took in a breath to say her part. “As long as you do not try anything, friend.”
“Fair enough, friend.” There, friend had been said thrice. “Weapons down, boys. Do not make me tell you again. And get that fire going.” Palith’s gaze drifted to the two men on the floor. Neither had moved, thanks to Patrice’s magic, but they were both conscious now.
Kepriah nodded to Patrice to release the men. A wave of apprehension from both her sisters flooded her, which she ignored for now. Patrice did as she was told. And without argument. Good.
“What in hell and Hollow are you doing out here, Kepriah? And where is that no-good brother of mine?”
The lump that caught in Kepriah’s throat kept her from speaking for several seconds. She finally said, “He died protecting me. May the river take him swiftly.”
Palith stood silent for a moment then nodded. “He died for a good cause then.”
She knew he would not grieve in front of the others. “How about you, Palith? What are you doing out in this forsaken area?”
“Well, we, uh—”
“Hesitation does not suit you, old friend.”
Kepriah placed a brief hand on his shoulder. “I would have done the same. No one will hold it against you or your men.” That’s when she realized most of his men were barely out of childhood. Adolescents or not much older. Probably got caught up in the fighting because there was nothing else for them here.
Palith gave her a respectful nod, deference to her as one leader to another. “Where do you want the jabbers?”
Kepriah’s eyes lit. “You brought jabbers?”
“Found ‘em at an abandoned farm a ways off. No use letting perfectly good mounts go to waste.”
“I agree.”
Again, he asked what she was doing here. This time, she told him, leaving out the magical parts of the tale. She thought about letting Patrice take the camouflage spell off Jakon but decided against that for now. The desert dweller could sleep next to the women and keep his face hidden during the night. He was always up before the sun and could wake Patrice to camouflage him again. Kepriah started to tell Palith to sit, which was the final offer in the friendship dance, but what happened next surprised her.
Palith drew his belt knife, got to one knee, and pierced the flesh of his palm. “Kepriah of Landerbury, I give you my blood oath as a warrior. I request to be in your fellowship, to take your orders, whatever they may be. I know this area well and can offer my services as a guide. I will follow you and protect you with my life if you will have me.” He motioned his men down and they each offered the same loyalty oaths to her.
It took all of Kepriah’s will not to let her jaw drop and stare like a dumb jabber. These men had no place to go. They saw her as their way out. A job, though she could not pay them in anything but companionship right now. Things here must be more desperate than I realized. She certainly would not shame Palith by denying his offer of loyalty. “You will also have to swear to protect my sisters and Jakon and Gail.” She made a sweeping motion to the rest.
“Done,” Palith said without hesitation, echoed by his men.
“I can offer you companionship but I have no coin to pay. We eat what we catch or pluck from the ground, but our mission is an important one, prophesied by the Moirai Themselves. That’s all I can tell you just now.”
That got raised brows from Palith as his features danced in the firelight, but he needed to know something of what he was getting into. Though Kepriah would not reveal her magic just yet, he already suspected something the way he eyed the scepter. Not with greed at the sight of the jewels, only curiosity. Interesting.
“I accept your terms.” Palith made another stab to his hand and let the blood pool at Kepriah’s boots.
His men did the same, though she saw them glance at the women a few times. Palith noticed, too, and he gave Kepriah the warrior sign that he would keep them in line, though she could not imagine any warrior, even a very young one, breaking a blood oath. That would mean his immediate death. She pulled out a sweat cloth from her bag and soaked up their blood, then hung it to dry near the old smelting pit that held the fire. She would carry it as testimony of Palith’s obedience and that of his men.
“Have you and your men eaten recently?”
Palith nodded. “We will be fine until morning.”
“All right. You and your men sleep near the door.” That way she could stay near her sisters and keep Jakon hidden in the darker areas of the barn. She walked back to where her sisters huddled with Gail.
“Are you crazy?” Patrice said in hushed tones. “You can’t take these men in.”
Kepriah felt her sister’s fear and sympathized. “They made the blood oath. They have sworn their allegiance to me. And to you.”
Patrice started to protest when Larisa stepped close. “Are you sure, Kepriah? They do not look like honest men.”
“You would not know an honest man from a jabber’s ass, Larisa.” Kepriah smiled to quell her sister’s anger. When she felt fear from her youngest sister, she placed a hand on Patrice’s arm. “I will not let anything happen to you. You have to trust me on this.”
“Well, I dunna trust you,” Gail uttered. “You all are gone in the head.” She mumbled something that sounded like a curse.
That was the first thing Kepriah had heard the girl say in quite a while and she fought the urge to smirk. Something in Gail’s voice caught her attention, though. This girl was not as weak as she seemed. There was fire in her, something Kepriah vowed to keep hold on until they could get to Abandoned City and marry her off.
“Like it or not, Gail. I am the boss around here. You and the others will do as I tell you.” Her sisters’ frustration waved against her senses but neither discounted her claim. With Palith and his men sleeping by the door she felt all right saying, “Take her off the leash.” She pointed a finger at the girl. “Try anything stupid and I will put it right back on. You got me?” The girl nodded. This time Kepriah felt relief and approval from her sisters.
Patrice surprised her by stepping forward and taking her arm. She rarely touched anyone but Larisa and Gail. The Earth woman leaned close, fear and anger fighting for dominance within her. “You better be right about those men, big sister. Or I’ll kick your ass myself.”
Jakon stiffened, but the woman had every right to worry with strange men around, especially after what had happened to her at Damon’s place. And she did not understand the severity of a warrior’s oath.
Kepriah gave a slight nod, though she knew Patrice would have no chance against her in a real fight. “Fair enough, little sister.” She raised her voice. “Now get some sleep. All of you. We have a long day ahead.”
Gail, now off her leash, gave a long, insufferable look. Kepriah pointed to a blanket and waited for the girl to obey. Surprisingly, Gail lay down without protest. Why in hell and Hollow did the Moirai put me in charge of this bloody marriage?
****
Knee-deep mud hindered travel and the jabbers labored, especially the ones carrying two people. Patrice sat behind Kepriah on the broad saddle and kept a healthy grip around her waist. Kepriah’s temper boiled from the foolishness of their recent captive. Gail had tried to run off again last night. Palith, a large man now in his middle thirties and with gray in his hair, had been the one to catch her. As promised, he had brought her back to Kepriah without so much as a pinch to her bottom.
“Please,” Gail whined from behind Jakon, where Kepriah had tied her to the saddle. “Let me go. Please.”
“Shut it,” Bendi, one of Palith’s young men, said. He was pretty sore the girl had gotten past him on his watch last night and was not shy about vocalizing. The ribbing the other men had given him did not help his mood any so Kepriah kept a close eye on him.
She studied Palith, who gave her a nod that he would watch the young man. Manry had gone to his icy grave without knowing his youngest brother was still alive. Kepriah had talked to Palith on their way out this morning and told him details of his brother’s story. She did not enjoy explaining what had happened in the mountains, that Manry died beaten by his age and the cold, while helping Kepriah escape bounty hunters. But he had died saving her life, and that made him a hero in his brother’s eyes. And in mine.
Palith and his men knew this area well after years of fighting and he had been filling her in on what he thought important. He chatted about his men, their ages and experiences, and which weapons they used best. The fact that they had taken the blood oath to obey Kepriah and entrust her with their lives, still surprised her. Warriors took a blood oath to their graves, so they offered it with care. If one broke the oath, which Kepriah had never heard of anyone doing in her lifetime, the others would see that death took him sooner than expected. Much sooner.
Palith seemed to sense her astonishment and he leaned toward her as they rode. “My brother has always spoken highly of you. And he was not an easy man to impress. I honor him by protecting you now that he is gone.”
Kepriah did
not know what to say to that so she simply nodded her appreciation. She could be as stubborn as a sitting jabber, and her sisters probably felt that, since they had said nothing else about the men joining them. Jakon, who was still under Patrice’s camouflage, went along with Kepriah’s decision without question, but she noticed he kept keen eyes on the newcomers.
Gail whimpered again and Bendi, who rode beside Jakon’s mount, raised his arm toward the girl. Patrice’s grip around Kepriah’s waist tightened.
Kepriah pressed heels to her mount and moved beside the new hire, halting the group with a hand motion. “Leave her.”
This man was barely nineteen, yet a much older person looked out from those dark eyes. He nodded, but gave Gail a lustful look. Captives did not get respectable treatment during war times, especially women, so Kepriah would have to push those well-embedded war rules from their idiotic heads. Most warriors did not see the harm in a little fun with a woman, especially if she was approaching womanhood.
Kepriah turned a harsh face to the girl, whose eyes widened like saucers. Gail must understand that she had duties to this world, just as the Trine did. And it looked as though Kepriah was the one the Moirai had chosen to teach her. The girl must have realized what these men wanted to do with her, especially since they saw her as a captive and not an equal. Gail was many things but she was not stupid.
“Keep quiet.” Kepriah kept her voice low and dangerous voice. “Or I will gag you. Understand?” How in the name of Selenea did her former commanders keep so many warriors in line, when she had so much trouble with one snot-nosed girl and a few young men?
Gail nodded and her face paled, despite the angry blush that had been on her cheeks moments ago. Patrice and Larisa offered dagger looks. Anger and frustration grated against Kepriah’s senses, almost to the point of distraction, but she needed to keep Gail quiet. They could not afford to waste precious time chasing a runaway all over this forsaken area.