by Dana Davis
Her sister had been watching with a look of concern on her face, not to mention the matching sentiment that caressed Patrice’s senses. The two exchanged smiles as Larisa dosed her with a pinch of dried warrior tea. In its concentrated form, the stuff tasted awful, but the effects far outweighed Patrice’s oral discomfort. She caught Gail’s sudden look of awe and respect and fought the urge to roll her eyes. The last thing I need is a groupie.
It took several minutes to get all the beasts through the cleared path, since they had to go single file. Once they were past the roadblock, the group mounted again.
“Hey, I could use some of those ale berries, Jakon. Would help me relax in the saddle.”
“Sorry, Third, but they are poisonous to humans. No one uses the berries to make ale. They just got the name because of the effect they have on jabbers.”
Though she wasn’t a big drinker, that news left Patrice a bit disappointed. She could have used something to numb her sore ass and legs.
The next obstacle came much too soon and this time the trail was covered in a huge pile of rocks. Since there was no place for a rockslide to come from, Patrice suspected Nyanan of this roadblock. The bitch. Jakon confirmed her suspicions. If they had to dodge obstacles every few thousand feet, they would never catch up to Kepriah.
Despite her weariness, Patrice convinced Larisa to let her call upon her ring’s powers once again and hurl the rocks off to the side of the road. The task left her panting and sweaty. This is going to be one long-ass trip if I have to clear the road every few miles, but at least I’m doing something useful that doesn’t involve cooking. She smiled at that.
Chapter 30
Kepriah let out scream as Honor probed her mind again. Her resistance waned and she did not know how long she could hold out before losing consciousness. If that happened, Honor would be free to scramble around in her head and take whatever she wanted. It was not like this in the Hollow, the pain, and part of her longed to go to the Hollow now, to find relief from this agony.
Shame filled her for those thoughts. You are a warrior, Kepriah of Landerbury. You are First Noble. Act like it. But her thoughts began to scramble as pain consumed her.
The relentless assault became too much and something inside Kepriah wanted to let go, to escape the agony any way she could, even if that meant giving in to death. Then, as though pricking a needle through cloth, a tiny pinpoint of light caught in her mind. The scepter. Her scepter. With great effort, she stopped fighting against the pain and let all thoughts drift toward the Faytool, like a drowning man reaching toward a rope. Nothing else existed but Kepriah and the scepter. She focused her mind on that and only that. Then, like a warm blanket, the scepter’s powers wrapped around her. At that very moment, she gave herself to the Faytool, gave herself to the magic. That action built her strength to resist and she managed to put up a thin veil between her mind and the invader.
Honor pulled her consciousness from Kepriah’s and sat back on her heels again. “Are you trying to make me kill you?”
Kepriah panted and swallowed hard to lubricate her sore throat. Even then, her voice came out strained and raspy. “If you kill me, it’s your own bloody fault. The Moirai gave Trine status to me and my sisters. You have no right to change that.”
Honor’s golden eyes narrowed on her. “I have every right. I am stronger than you and your sisters combined. The Moirai led me to you because you are too inexperienced.”
If Honor was as potent as she spouted, she would have already taken their powers, but Kepriah did not dare say that aloud. Those golden eyes grew wild with every attempt to crack Kepriah’s resistance. Honor was on the verge of a break. Kepriah had seen it too many times. The woman had been after great power all her life and been denied too long.
I need to hold out a while longer. She offered a silent prayer to the Moirai and hoped They would grant her the strength to resist, until she could find a way out of Honor’s grasp. I will perform the hoisting. I just have to survive her attempts at breaking me.
Honor reached out to her again, and Kepriah involuntarily flinched before gaining her composure. The desert dweller seemed pleased with the reaction, which made her seem even more dangerous. Kepriah braced her will against another onslaught, held the scepter in her thoughts, and ordered herself to be victorious. As soon as Honor’s consciousness punched into her mind, she wailed with pain. She put up a wall that crumbled at Honor’s acidic touch. But she managed to put another wall up, then another.
Suddenly, the assault stopped. Kepriah sucked in quick breaths like a suffocating man who suddenly found air. She fought down panic to still her heart and closed her eyes against tears. She had soiled herself this time, but relief outweighed any shame she might have felt about it. On a battlefield, no one ridiculed a fellow warrior for messing himself. And this is a battlefield, just a different type.
Finally, Kepriah opened her eyes, defiant and ready for whatever Honor brought upon her next. Or so she told herself. What she saw surprised her—Honor sat with her chin against her chest. The elder woman seemed to be sleeping. Kepriah’s heart jumped when the head came up and those golden eyes opened. Exhaustion, that’s what she saw. Honor had expended her strength and appeared very old now.
“I do not wish to kill you,” the elder woman said through labored breathing. “So, we will resume our studies in the morning.” She sounded as though she spoke to a student.
The mad bitch! Kepriah wanted to spit at her. If her hands were free, she would gut the woman. Instead, she stilled the tree in her mind and kept her temper under tight control. What worried her most, though, was Honor’s belief that she should perform the hoisting. The idiot woman actually believed the Moirai wanted her to dominate the Trine.
Kepriah watched with relief as Honor left the room, which was dark except for a single lantern. The sun had set hours ago. Except for a few mumbling voices that faded and disappeared down the hall, she heard no one else. This is my chance, the only one I might get.
She twisted her wrists and realized that in her agony and struggles against Honor’s probes, the binds had loosened. Quickly, she wriggled her hands, wincing against rope burns, and got the knots loose enough to slip her hands free. Afterward, she lay panting for a few seconds. Now for this bloody blanket. With patience she did not think she possessed, Kepriah twisted and inched her hands up between the blanket and her sweating body until she got her elbows in a bent position.
Footsteps caught her ears and she froze, praying to the Moirai that her captors left her alone. The person walked toward some other part of the house. With bitten back curses, she finally managed to wrench her right arm up and out the top of the blanket. Instantly, she called the scepter to her. Much to her relief, it flew across the room and it snapped against her palm with barely a sound.
At once, she tapped into its power to relieve some of the weariness and pain she had felt seconds ago. Now she had to figure out what else to do. Patrice’s ring could use the air to untie the ropes around the blanket and Larisa’s talisman could burn through them. But her sisters were not here.
The scepter drew its power from earth and water. She needed to free her other hand, for she was not about to let the scepter out of her grasp, not even for an instant. The next few moments seemed to pass like hours as she freed her left arm. Both now stuck out the top of the blanket, pressing her head uncomfortably between them. With her body still wrapped like a bloody sausage, she wriggled around so she could brace her feet against the wall and inched the blanket down from her neck, until she got it bunched just above her breasts.
Damn things are too big to get past, she thought with odd amusement.
She used the scepter to push up to a sitting position and her fingers worked feverishly to untie the rope secured around her middle. Once that was done, she freed her upper body from the blanket and reached to untie the last rope that bound her ankles. A shadow appeared in the doorway and she froze, her heart racing like a terrified jabber.
The man opened his mouth to cry out but Kepriah was in no mood to be tortured again, so she sent out the scepter’s power and took instant control over his will. She did not think she was powerful enough to control more than two people at once, but with all of Honor’s torturous methods in the name of Nyanan’s insane task, Kepriah’s determination and powers had grown. With little effort on her part, she quietly ordered the man to help her. Once free of the blanket, she realized this man was barely out of childhood, probably not more than fifteen.
Yet, big enough that I can fit into his trousers.
She plucked up the spare blanket Honor had given her as a pillow, tossed it over the glowing scepter in her hand to hide the light, then ordered the boy to strip and face the wall. She quickly shed her soiled clothes, crammed them beneath the tattered mattress on the infested bed, and scurried into the boy’s dry ones. Thankfully, they were just loose enough to be comfortable. They smelled but she did not care. They were cleaner than hers at the moment.
The boy tied his own ankles together and secured a rag around his mouth at her urging. Once she was certain he could not break the binds, at least for a while, she secured a blanket around him. She then positioned him much the way she had been and rolled him to face the wall. The last order she gave to him made him fall into an immediate sleep.
His warrior braid was shorter and a bit lighter than her own, but no one would realize that at any distance. Especially in the darkness. Not wanting to stay longer than she had to, she slinked along the hallway.
Patrice’s camouflage magic would come in handy right about now. Two men guarded the door to the outside. At least, she hoped it was only two. How many had there been? Six? Yes, six, counting Honor. The exhausted woman was probably sleeping by now. Kepriah backtracked down the hallway and peered into rooms. This house had many rooms but the furnishings were plain, nothing that denoted wealth. Probably a farmer’s abode. As she slid her head around another doorway, she spotted Honor lying on a bed. Bed bugs my ass. The bitch wanted me on that hard floor. Another tactic to try and break my resistance.
Heat filled Kepriah’s face as she fought to quell her rage. She should kill the woman right now, but something in the back of her mind would not let her do that. Nyanan or no, this idiot woman was still Jakon’s grandmother. How would Kepriah explain killing his dead grandsire’s wife, elder to his people?
No one guarded the woman’s room. Arrogance, no doubt. Two lanterns gave off plenty of light for Kepriah to see those dark features, eyes closed. That, coupled with the heavy breathing, left no doubt in her mind that the woman slept. She slipped into the room and made her way to the bed. With luck against her, she stepped onto a creaky floorboard. Hell and Hollow!
Honor bolted upright and stared for an instant in total shock. But Kepriah was ready and called on the scepter’s powers to tackle the woman’s will. Honor struggled against her, making her sweat and curse under her breath. Pure rage rammed against her senses, trying to knock her away, but Kepriah was too desperate to lose. She forced the woman out of bed then hid in the chifforobe by the door. Through a large crack, she could see clearly into the room, so she did not need to keep the door open. With her own will wrapped tightly around Honor’s, she forced the woman to call her guards.
“Where is the boy?” one guard said after they arrived.
“Probably taking a shite,” another said. “Sorry, ma’am. But he ate something that did not agree with him.”
Kepriah fought the urge to smile. That boy will be miserable all tied up like a hog for slaughter. Teach him a lesson maybe. She forced Honor to offer a condescending look then flip a hand at the comment. A gesture she had seen the woman do in the past.
“You need something, ma’am?” another of the guards said. If the men suspected anything, they did not show it.
“My captive is not going anyplace,” Honor said through Kepriah’s nudging. “You may as well get to bed. I am going for a walk. I need some air before I can sleep. We will all need our wits tomorrow and I do not want anyone nodding off.”
“You think it wise to go off alone, ma’am?” a very young but bullish-looking man said.
Kepriah pushed against Honor’s will and forced a hand onto her hip. “You see anyone out in this bloody place, boy?”
He actually gazed at his feet and shook his head.
Well, jabber shit, Honor, Kepriah thought. Could you not get real men to do your dirty work? The thought distracted her for only a few seconds but it was enough for her control to slip. Honor slid her foot forward and opened her mouth to speak. Kepriah slammed her power on the woman’s will again, fighting to keep control. Sweat trickled down her back and her temples.
The men did not seem to notice anything unusual, thank the Moirai, and they left the room. Once their noises ceased, Kepriah stepped from the chifforobe. Her own strength threatened to wane soon and she knew she only had a few hours, at best, to get away from here before Honor could break free of her. She peered into the hall and saw that the men had taken up the rest of the rooms. Obviously, they were tired.
Kepriah kept one hand on Honor’s arm and the other on her scepter as she forced the woman out the front door and into the night. No moon lit the sky tonight, just the stars and the aurora, but she had not wanted to take more time to grab a lantern. She did not dare remove the blanket she had tossed over her scepter. Not yet. She hoped to get far enough away before the guards realized what had happened.
She tried to open an archway but was too weak to sustain it long enough for it to grow beyond a few inches, so they mounted a jabber bareback and rode in the direction of the stone house ruins, where Kepriah had last seen her sisters. She hoped Jakon and the others followed Honor’s tracks and were headed this way, or she might not make it to them in time.
Chapter 31
They had made camp in this clearing last night, just before Kepriah’s agony assaulted them through the link. For several hours, Patrice and Larisa had suffered through Kepriah’s torture, until late last night when it stopped and they were finally able to get a couple hours rest. Patrice could still feel her eldest sister through the link so she knew the woman lived. In fact, their connection had been growing stronger since she awakened this morning, bringing hope that the woman would survive whatever was happening to her.
Movement caught her corner vision and she squinted as she gazed across the clearing. She thought her eyes played tricks when a jabber came into sight. Two figures, one who looked like Kepriah, rode the beast. A hand rested on Patrice’s arm and she jumped before looking at Larisa.
“It’s Kepriah,” her middle sister said.
Excitement swelled at Larisa’s confirmation and Patrice dropped the blanket she had been folding. She followed Jakon and Palith toward the approaching jabber. The men had various weapons drawn and Patrice kept her right hand in a fist, in case she needed to use the ring’s powers. Kepriah called out and raised an arm in greeting, letting them know everything was all right. Relief filled Patrice from both sisters, along with Kepriah’s exhaustion. When her eldest sister reined the beast in, she was close enough that Patrice could see the person behind her. Honor.
What’s she doing here? Had the elder been captured, too? Curiosity gnawed at Patrice as her eldest sister urged the jabber to kneel.
Once the two women dismounted, Larisa pushed past Patrice and took Kepriah in a great hug, the warrior protesting all the while. “Oh, hush,” the blonde woman said. “Am I not allowed to be glad to see my own sister?”
A crooked smile found Kepriah’s lips but Patrice saw that her face looked pinched and pale. Weariness emanated from the eldest member of the Trine and Patrice felt Larisa’s worry blend with her own. Whatever horrors Kepriah had been through, Patrice had no longing to experience it for herself. Feeling it through the link had been enough to bring her to tears last night. Everyone took turns greeting the returned woman, who hadn’t said a word about her captivity. No one asked. Not yet anyway. Instead, curious eyes turned to Honor.<
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As the scepter jewels glowed, Kepriah ordered the desert elder to follow in such an abrupt manner that Jakon started to protest. She held up her free hand before he got within four feet of his grandmother. That’s when Patrice saw that Honor’s hands were bound in front of her with the same type of vine she had seen hanging from trees on their recent travels.
“Before you go telling me how to treat this woman, Jakon, you need to know that she is Nyanan.”
“What?” Patrice said as the shock of that statement hit her in the gut. She realized she wasn’t the only one when she felt Larisa’s stunned emotions and saw Jakon’s jaw go slack then clench.
“But she is Jakon’s grandmother,” Larisa uttered.
“Yes. And she is the one who drugged us and stole me.” Kepriah crooked a thumb over her shoulder. “Held me in some abandoned farmhouse a ways back. I am glad you made it this far in your search for me, because I traveled half the night to get here and had to keep this one from probing my mind the whole way. At least, I hope you were searching for me.” She gave Patrice a wry smile that betrayed her exhaustion.
“Of course we were.” Patrice grinned despite sore muscles that reminded her every second how bad she was on a jabber. Her sister was safe.
Kepriah lost her smile as she looked at Jakon. “I am sorry, Jakon.” She looked to Palith. “Tie her up someplace and do not let her touch you.”
“No,” Jakon uttered. His golden eyes stayed on his grandmother’s figure as Palith’s men froze in mid-stride. “I will take care of her.”
“Are you sure?”
His eyes moved back to Kepriah. “She is my blood. She is my responsibility.”
“So you believe me? About her being Nyanan?”