Thawed Fortunes (The Guadel Chronicles Book 2)

by Murray, Dean

  The muted clash of arms from somewhere below momentarily came to the forefront only to be replaced with Jeeves' labored breathing which in turn was overwhelmed by sobbing from somewhere in the back of the room.

  Va'del's calm control over his emotions suddenly collapsed, leaving him exposed to a torrent of feelings that changed with a fluidity that made it hard to breathe.

  A familiar voice pulled Va'del back to the present, and he looked down, more than a little amazed when he met Jeeves' eyes. "He's right, he's more useful alive than dead, get one of the sisters to heal him before he bleeds out."

  Va'del didn't believe what he was hearing, didn't believe that after everything Be'ter had done, he'd be allowed to live. The earnestness of Jeeves' gaze didn't make the order real, but the smug satisfaction on Be'ter's face, smoothed away almost before Va'del realized what he was seeing, made the command real, solidified his rage.

  Jeeves said something else, but Va'del ignored the meaningless sounds and gave into the fury.

  Chapter 24

  Va'del clawed his way back to consciousness, driven by a need to escape nightmares where he alternately killed Be'ter in a spray of blood, or failed and was forced to watch Jain and the other women die.

  Quiet moaning filled the room, and Va'del opened his eyes to find that he'd been placed on a bed. Other than that, he was very nearly lying in the same place he'd fallen after killing Be'ter. There were so many wounded it was actually amazing that there was anyone left to care for them. The room had seemed full before, but now there was barely even room to walk between the injured.

  The few ambulatory individuals in the room were all either bandaged in numerous places, or showing the sickly gray skin of someone who'd pushed too hard wielding the power. About the time Va'del realized that some of the moaning was coming from him, a bruised guardsmen, with a bandage around his arm and another around his forehead, saw Va'del was awake and shuffled over with a water skin and some bread.

  "How do you feel, sir?"

  "Terrible, but I think I'll probably live. What happened?"

  "Well, we're still missing some information since a number of Guadel and guardsmen haven't woken up yet, but as nearly as we can tell the initial ambushes were quite the success, unfortunately they came inside in larger numbers earlier than our plan allowed for."

  Va'del took a hefty drink of the tepid water and then nodded for the man to continue as he started on the bread.

  "By the time people started trying to fight their way through to close the main door it was too late. It looks like Si'mon tried to get there sooner, but he and the guardsmen with him were cut down by archers."

  Va'del felt a wave of sorrow wash through him at the realization that the wiry old caravan master was gone. For all that Si'mon hadn't had any more of a reason than anyone else, he'd still always treated Va'del with respect.

  It looks like we won't be able to complete this trip together either.

  "I was with Va'ma when he ran into the group of men that Vladir was commanding. It was the most amazing thing I've ever seen. He was charging along when he suddenly got clumsy like you all do when you drop partway out of link. He took hits from four arrows, and still managed to put a knife through the Baron's throat before he finished falling."

  "He's dead too then?"

  The guard shook his head. "Nope, he must be the toughest man alive. When he hit the ground it drove two of the arrows clean through him, and broke the other two off, but after we'd cut down the Baron's men we came back and found he was still alive."

  Va'del found himself oddly relieved that Va'ma had lived. The grizzled warrior had saddled Va'del with Vi'en, but other than that he was a good sort by and large. Against the larger canvas of loss they'd just experienced, even the survival of people Va'del actually despised felt like a miracle.

  Thoughts of his wife awoke a sudden surge of guilt as Va'del realized that she was probably dead. "My wife, Vi'en, did she make it?"

  "No, sir. There were four of us detailed to get Va'ma back here so the women could work on him, and she was dead when we arrived."

  Va'del felt a complicated sadness well up inside him. It wasn't grief over her departure as much as it was regret that they'd never come to the kind of understanding he and Cindi had eventually reached. That and a healthy share of guilt over his sudden relief that he'd never have to suffer her presence inside his mind again.

  The guardsman didn't seem to expect Va'del to say anything else. He accepted Va'del's now-empty plate, and then paused before leaving.

  "Sir, I just wanted to apologize on behalf of all of us. For all that some of the candidates are pompous little snots with an inflated idea of their own importance, we have nothing but respect for the Guadel. Nobody was quite sure how to treat you when this whole journey started, so we all gave you a bit of a cold shoulder. Partly that was because some of the rumors as float around after the day colors have gone and been replaced by the nighttime cycles, but mostly it was because we figured nobody as had been a candidate for such a short time could have possibly had all the arrogance sweated out of them yet."

  The man was nearly old enough to be Va'del's father, but he shifted about from foot to foot with nervousness now. "Well, we were all wrong. You've more than proved you deserve to be treated with all the respect we'd treat any of the full Guadel, and we're sorry for any offense we may have given."

  Va'del's world seemed to be spinning, good news and bad mixing together with relief and guilt to the point where he could hardly separate his thoughts, but he managed a solemn nod. "There isn't anything to apologize for, but I appreciate the thought guardsman..."

  "Rogers, sir, guardsman Rogers."

  As Rogers walked away, Va'del sank back down into his bed and tried to make sense of everything running through his head.

  Javin limped in from the hallway, and seeing that Va'del was awake, carefully made his way over.

  "Jain's okay. It seems she came awfully close to burning herself out, but she'll recover with a bit of rest."

  Another little flare of guilt started to life as Va'del realized he should have asked after her before Rogers left, but the feeling suddenly died as he realized that he hadn't asked because on some level he'd already known she was okay.

  We've lost some old friends, and made a few new ones to fill in some little parts of the holes they left, but Jain's fine, and somehow that means everything that comes afterwards can be endured.

  Epilogue

  Jain leaned against Va'del as they sat on the battlements, and tried to ignore the fact that he all but vibrated from tension.

  "So it's really over?"

  "Kind of. Apparently after both of us passed out, Javin made it up just in the nick of time to hold off a fairly large group of soldiers that Kra'ven had sent in with instructions to make sure Be'ter got the job done."

  "He held them off all by himself?"

  Va'del nodded. "You know him, he hasn't spoken about it other than to downplay how hard it was, but the servants still haven't gotten around to cleaning up all of the blood in the hallway. Everyone seems desperate to turn me into a hero for standing off Be'ter, but there are so many other people who've done things just as vital."

  You flinched again. It is like someone opens up one of your wounds again each time you mention him. Why won't you confide in me?

  "Let them look up to you. After all of the death, everyone needs heroes to make it all seem worthwhile. Besides, you deserve a measure of respect for having bailed out the Council yet again."

  "I don't know that it really was worthwhile. Most of us survived, but Kra'ven is out there somewhere with a fairly good-sized army, Mali was found dead alongside the road, and all the evidence points towards the idea that Vladir wasn't responsible for driving the bag'ligs up towards us in the first place, so we didn't even achieve the thing that brought us all down here."

  Mention of Mali sent a shiver through Jain. "Did it really look like a suicide? They won't tell us anything about it other
than that she was found dead."

  "It looked that way. Not to say that Kra'ven couldn't have made murder look like suicide, but I think she was probably more valuable to him alive. She must have just snapped after Be'ter died."

  Jain found herself wrapping her arms more tightly around Va'del. "It must have been so terrible for her. She made so many bad decisions, but they were all because she loved him."

  "But he didn't love her back. Or at least if he did, he didn't love her enough."

  Va'del placed his hand under Jain's chin and gently pulled her face up to look at him. "There are far too many bad decisions made with love as the justification. I'm sorry I agreed to marry Vi'en. It was the wrong choice. I promise you I won't be backed into doing something like that again. The next time I wed, it will be you I face across the marriage candle, and nothing the Council can do will change that."

  --The Story Continues in Brittle Bonds--

  Acknowledgments: Thanks need to go out to all the usual suspects, friends and family, who've continued to provide support in countless ways. You all know who you are.

  Special thanks to Scott Poe from http://indiebookblogger.blogspot.com/, who does a lot to help get the word out about up-and-coming authors, and who was very generous with his time and platform to help get the word out about the Guadel Chronicles generally and Thawed Fortunes specifically--thanks, Scott.

  Additional thanks and acknowledgment need made to Obsidian Dawn, www.obsidiandawn.com, for one of the brushes used in the creation of the cover for Thawed Fortunes.

  As always, the biggest debt is owed to my wife, Katie, who not only helped with the editing, but also put together the perfect cover, in addition to picking me back up when the climb seemed impossible.

  Author's note: I truly hope that you've enjoyed Thawed Fortunes. If you have, please let others know about your new find.

  Reviews, blogs, even just a call to that old high school friend that always liked to read the same kind of stories that you did--it all adds up. I don't have a big marketing budget to get the word out, so the question of just how many of the stories currently rattling around inside of my head make it out for the rest of the world to enjoy depends almost entirely on you and others like you.

  Please remember to check out some of my other work. You've likely already read Frozen Prospects, but it's possible that you missed I'rone, which was a short story I wrote because I just couldn't help but return to such an interesting character. Those of you who enjoy urban/contemporary fantasy as much as they enjoy epic fantasy, should go check out Scent of Tears.

  Just for fun, I've gone ahead and included an excerpt from, Torn, my upcoming urban fantasy. I can't wait to see it go live, and hope this sample leaves you positively chomping at the bit.

  About the Author: Dean started reading seriously in the second grade due to a competition and has spent most of the subsequent three decades lost in other people's worlds. After reading several local libraries more or less dry of sci-fi and fantasy, he started spending more time wandering around worlds of his own creation to avoid the boredom of the 'real' world.

  Things worsened, or improved depending on your point of view, when he first started experimenting with writing while finishing up his accounting degree. These days Dean has a wonderful wife and daughter to keep him rather more grounded, but the idea of bringing others along with him as he meets interesting new people in universes nobody else has ever seen tends to drag him back to his computer on a fairly regular basis.

  Keep up to speed on Dean's latest projects at http://www.deansonlinefiction.com/ or follow me on Twitter @Writer_Dean

  Torn Excerpt

  The silvery light of a nearly-full moon should have been comforting. For most people it would've been peaceful even, but it pulled at my anger with surprising strength as I bounded across the arid Southern-Utah terrain.

  Darkly-furred, four-legged shapes ghosted through the darkness on either side of me as we slid between the softly-glowing pillars of trees. Jasmin, arguably the closest thing I had to a best friend, dove through a latticework of light and then it was my turn to feel the undergrowth grasping at my fur in an effort to slow my progress.

  The warm evening breeze carried a host of aromas too subtle for mere human noses to identify. In our four-footed forms each molecule was unconsciously sorted and cataloged, leaving us free to concentrate on the elusive scent of our prey.

  The other pack, a portion at least, was less than a mile away, far enough into our territory for it to be a killable offense if they were caught. They'd become increasingly arrogant over the last few months, but coming in close enough to threaten our families was a whole new level of provocation. Even their leader, Brandon, wasn't usually so bold.

  A stray eddy of wind played across my muzzle, and I knew they'd made their first mistake. I pressed into my second in command for a moment, conveying an order through posture and motion, and then nipped at Jasmin's heels, the two of us stretching out in a full sprint.

  Free from the others, Jasmin and I streaked through the night with a speed the rest of our pack couldn't have matched. Jasmin pressed at my flank, curious at my decision until she caught the scent, and then an answering growl made its way past her fangs.

  The trap was clever, but the other wolves didn't know the terrain well enough. I let my beast bubble up from the corner of my being where I usually kept it chained. Between one moment and the next, I went from running on four legs to two. As my transformation ended, a six-foot tower of muscle and claws sprang from the shadows. I ducked Vincent's first blow and retaliated with a gash that opened one side of his chest nearly down to the bone.

  A dark-furred form leaped at Jasmin, but the other wolf mistimed the spring. Most of the other pack didn't appreciate just how nimble she was. Jasmin dodged to one side and then the two of them were circling, looking for an opening.

  Vincent, the other hybrid, attacked with the strength and fury that'd earned him the position of second in his pack, but he hadn't been expecting to face me in this form. As a wolf I weighed in at a solid two hundred pounds, but would've still given up more than a hundred pounds to him.

  Now I had at least six inches and seventy-five pounds on my side of the equation, and he was the one pressed onto the defensive as the fight progressed.

  I caught flashes of action from the other fight as we circled each other. Jasmin sprang at her opponent, catching her behind the shoulders as Vincent reeled away from me in a shower of blood. I'd finally managed a deeper strike on his arm.

  The high-pitched scream of pain as Jasmin began trying to crush her opponent's spine was answered by rapidly-approaching howls. Vincent attacked with renewed strength at the promise of reinforcements.

  I was bleeding in a dozen places now, but the rage insulated me from pain and weakness. Both sides of my nature were united in hating Vincent. If I ever did manage to kill him, my questionable humanity wouldn't grieve. The world would be better for his absence.

  I could hear the other pack now, panting with exertion, our friends hot on their heels. Vincent overreached in his effort to claim the kill, and I sunk my teeth into the muscled flesh of his shoulder as I finally made it around behind him.

  My claws sank into his arms and legs as I repositioned to snap his neck, and then a hammer blow of weight struck me across the shoulders. Knocked loose from Vincent, I spun around in time to tear Simon from the air as he leaped at me again. It was the perfect opportunity to end a life nearly as evil as Vincent's, but one of the recent arrivals had bowled Jasmin over.

  Leveraging a frame that was more than capable of picking up a small car, I threw Simon into the whirling ball of flesh and fangs. He didn't hit hard enough to snap his neck, but he knocked the other wolf off of Jasmin, and then Vincent was back on his feet.

  The rest of the rival pack, save for Brandon their leader, came streaming past, but they didn't help their fellows swarm Jasmin and me over. None of them even slowed. Vincent took an angry swipe at the last, a small female, a
nd then our pack burst from the trees. A second later, our enemies were in full rout.

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