Warrior Lover (Draconia Tales)

by Karilyn Bentley

  Enar spun in a circle, shouting, “Stop!”

  The soldiers attempting to engage him froze while Enar darted out of the circle, jogging around the ring of men until he stood at their backs.

  “Go,” he muttered, swinging his sword through a belly.

  Gasps sounded as the men looked around, trying to determine where he went. He hacked through the mass, the soldiers stunned motionless by his reappearance. Not sporting, but it definitely sped things along. Twenty left.

  Several of the little weasels tried to run off, obviously frightened by his disappearing act, but were stopped dead by the Draconi wards. At least the exit wards still worked even if the entrance ones had lost power.

  Curious thing, that. One he didn’t have time to ponder as another wave of soldiers brandishing swords advanced.

  Metal screeched against metal as swords locked, battling for dominance. Enar pulled his blade free and kicked backward, striking the man sneaking up behind him. The man fell on his arse with a grunt. The soldier in front of him swung his sword with the speed of a slug. Enar stepped to the side and stabbed the soldier, blood spraying as he yanked the blade out of the man’s chest.

  Enar barely registered the surprise on the now-dead soldier’s face before whirling to counter the man he kicked. That one went down with a parry and thrust, more bluster than fighting skill.

  Two more took flight directly into the Draconi wards, either not seeing their dead brethren or not caring in their race to escape Blood Seeker.

  A dozen ringed him, fear in their eyes, their swords trembling. Enar laughed, the sound bouncing off the trees, echoing like frightened fire in the reflections of the soldiers’ gazes. He swore a couple even wet their pants.

  He darted toward one, Blood Seeker raised, feeling the movements of the others as they stepped closer, trying to find an opening in his defenses. But Blood Seeker drank well in the battle, the invincible power spilling into Enar. His motions became a blur as he swung his sword in a circle, severing heads, cleaving guts, until nothing remained but the crackle of logs, the smell of death. Enar knelt beside the last soldier killed and drove Blood Seeker to the hilt in the ground, discharging the remaining energy into the Goddess’s keeping.

  He said a quick prayer for the souls of the slain soldiers. They were scum, but even scum deserved a prayer for the afterlife. Most of them died with honor.

  Thoren should have found and killed Simon and the rogue Draconi by now. Enar glanced around the clearing, seeing only the bodies of the slain soldiers. No Thoren.

  And then his eyes fastened on movement across the clearing. Simon held a sword, shadows dancing down the blade. Thoren raised his hands as if to blast the goat-sucker into oblivion, but nothing happened.

  Thoren glanced at his hands, his face hidden in shadows, nonetheless radiating surprise. What happened to his friend’s magic? The only thing able to stop a Draconi in his tracks was titanium. Like the bars that held Fafnir captive in Simon’s cellar. Clearly, Fafnir spoke the truth when he claimed Simon’s father possessed a titanium sword.

  Enar’s breath hitched as Simon thrust his sword through Thoren’s belly, pulling the sword free with a kick to Thoren’s hip. Thoren clasped his hands over his stomach and fell to the ground. His friend’s fall freed the air stuck in his lungs and he wheezed in a gasp, his blood pounding in his ears.

  “No!” Enar jumped to his feet and ran, Blood Seeker pointed at Simon as if the sword wanted its own vengeance.

  He felt the pulsing of Thoren’s blood in his heart, felt Thoren’s pain as if it was his own. Knew his friend would die without immediate help. Red clouded his vision as he rushed forward to save Thoren. He made it halfway across the clearing before he saw a movement in the trees a ways from where Thoren lay dying. A shadow stepped from the trees, a shadow with a hood thrown over its face.

  The Draconi threw a blast of energy, striking Enar with enough force to throw him backward into the trees. He landed with a thud, feeling the hard ground, smelling the blood pooling around him and not able to move. Blood Seeker screamed, a high pitched noise audible only to him, a noise he never thought to hear. A Watcher’s sword only screamed when the Watcher died.

  Lily. He should have said the “L” word to her.

  His thoughts floated away as the dark canopy of branches faded from sight.

  ****

  Lily watched the elongated shadows dance over the walls of the room. Night-cooled air from the open window drifted across her bare skin. Insects chirped outside the window, announcing the arrival of darkness. The scent of cooked grain wafted from the door where it had popped into the room, transported, she assumed, by one of the priestesses.

  She remained curled into a ball on the bed, watching the door, hoping Enar would walk through. Her vision still caused her to shake and the cool breeze on her naked skin did nothing to help the matter.

  And Aryana wanted her to go through this in order to see the future?

  Crazy priestess.

  Why would she want this? This pain of knowing what was to happen and being unable to stop it? As soon as she could move after the vision, she had raced down the hall, ignoring the fact she forgot her clothes, rushing to find Enar. She had found a priestess instead who assured her Enar was in the Council’s Chamber and Lily needed to return to her room. Nothing Lily said convinced the priestess she needed to talk to Enar right then.

  So she remained in her room, the vision replaying through her mind like a spinning top, circling round until she thought she might go crazy. What would she do if her vision came true? What would she do if Enar never walked through the door? If he never returned?

  She drew in a breath, trying to make it stop shaking. She lived with priests trying to kill her throughout her entire life, she would get through this.

  But she’d rather have Enar by her side.

  So much for the remaining-aloof plan. Right when she decided to give love a chance, her vision struck, crushing her feeble hopes as if they were reeds in a fast moving stream.

  The necklace moved as she shifted. Moved. The shaky breath she drew froze. Her necklace had moved. It never moved. Blood rushed from her head, pooling in her chest, making her heart skip a beat. She touched the round beads and the necklace fell into her hand.

  No! Enar’s words echoed through her mind, The necklace can’t be removed unless I die. Sitting up, she stared at the beads in her hand, watched as they became blurry. Her vision came true. She swiped under her eyes. If only that bloody priestess had taken her to Enar, this wouldn’t have happened.

  Who was she fooling? Her visions always came true. Always. She had never stopped a vision from happening, never, despite her efforts.

  Maybe Enar hadn’t spoken the truth about the necklace falling off with his death. Maybe the energy blast she saw hit him hadn’t killed him. It had just knocked him out. Maybe the necklace had somehow come loose. Something might have happened to the clasp.

  Keara would know. And if she didn’t, her friend would be able to offer comfort.

  Holding the necklace like a beloved pet, Lily made it halfway to the door, stopping in the middle of the room. No, she couldn’t go out nude. Again.

  Where were her clothes?

  There. Her tunic rested by the window, her trousers by the bed. She hurried to the tunic and yanked it over her head, then pulled her trousers on and dashed out the door. Halfway down the hall, she stopped, trying to remember where the healing rooms were. Left or right? Right. So why was she running to the left?

  An about-face later and Lily sprinted to the right, taking another right where the healing room wing dead-ended into the hall she was on. Which room was Jamie in? Nothing to it, but to push open doors until she found him.

  On the third try, she stumbled into the room Jamie lay in. A tall, dark-haired priestess whose features resembled Keara’s sat by Jamie’s bed, her green eyes widening as Lily burst into the room.

  “Where’s Keara?”

  “Who are you?”

/>   “Her friend. Where’s Keara?”

  The woman rose, walking closer to Lily. “How do you know Keara?”

  She didn’t have time for a query session. “We’re from the same town. Jamie can tell you. I need to see her.” She needed to pull her voice back to a non-ear-shattering pitch.

  “Jamie is sleeping. Why do you need Keara?”

  Taking a breath, Lily clutched the strand of beads tight. “Are you going to tell me where she is or not? I need to speak with her.”

  What felt like a brush of wings fluttered against her mind, gentle, light. Lily swatted at her ear and ran a hand under her eyes for good measure.

  “Oh my. You’re the one Aryana mentioned.”

  “What?” Wasn’t she a barrel of intelligence?

  “You are Enar’s claim.”

  “You know Enar?”

  The woman’s lips turned. “I’m Annaliese, the primary Temple healer. You must be Lily.”

  “How did you know that?”

  “Aryana told me.”

  “But you acted like you didn’t know me.”

  “Why do you need Keara? She has...gone to take care of some things.”

  “Do you know when she’ll be back?”

  “I do not. Would you like to tell me what troubles you?”

  Something about the woman soothed Lily’s emotions, calming them to a more manageable level of panic. Lily wanted to trust Annaliese, wanted to tell her everything. Why? What about this woman made Lily want to share her problems? What if Annaliese was offended by her skin color? She did after all work in the Temple. What if she was like the priests in River’s Run?

  “Do not be afraid. I mean you no harm. You are severely worried. I am a healer. I would like to help, if you’ll let me.”

  The feelings of panic subsided, replaced by feelings of warmth. She needed to tell Annaliese her worries. Needed to unburden her soul.

  Before she knew what happened, her mouth opened and words spilled out. “I saw Enar dying. In the woods.”

  “Did you see Thoren?”

  “No. But my necklace fell off.” The words ended on a sob, her eyes closing as she thrust the strand of beads at Annaliese.

  A soft touch pressed against her outstretched hand and Lily’s lids flew open. Annaliese cradled Lily’s hand in both of hers.

  “Perhaps the clasp broke.”

  “I saw him die. The necklace only comes off when he dies.” She sniffed.

  Annaliese glanced over her shoulder at Jamie. “Come. Show me where you’re staying.”

  The healer wrapped an arm around Lily’s shoulders, leading her down the hall until they reached Lily’s room. Opening the door, Annaliese glanced at the food tray and bent to shove it out of their way.

  “Now, Lily. Why don’t you lie down? When you wake, I’ll come back to see you. All right?”

  Lily wanted to lie down. Lying down sounded like a good idea.

  “I want to put the necklace on first.” In case her vision was wrong and Enar came back. He shouldn’t know the necklace fell off.

  “All right.”

  Lily tucked a leg under her as she sat on the mattress. When the ends of the necklace touched, they stuck together, held in place by an invisible force. But unlike when Enar placed the string of beads around her neck, the clasp released at the slightest touch. She fastened and released it, fastened and released, fastened...who was she kidding? It no longer stayed permanently clasped. A heavy weight settled in her chest. He couldn’t be dead. He couldn’t.

  If she could just put the necklace back on, he would come back. He had to. What would happen to her if he didn’t?

  Confident she knew how the necklace clasped, she touched the ends together behind her neck. It stayed in place, even when she tugged on it. See, it stays on, just like it used to. That means he’s alive, right?

  “All right, you have it on. Why don’t you lie back now?” Annaliese gestured to the bed, one hand on Lily’s shoulder.

  Leaning back, she touched the stone beads. Please Goddess, let Enar return alive and well.

  Annaliese placed a hand on Lily’s forehead. “Sleep well until tomorrow, Lily.”

  A wave of exhaustion crashed into her, through her, chasing the panic and fear into the far recesses of her being.

  What did Annaliese do to her?

  The thought vanished as sleep washed over her, her eyes closing as the darkness claimed her.

  Chapter 19

  Enar woke with a gasp. Where was he? Insects chirped a melody while the scent of decaying leaves filled his nose. The forest. What was he doing in the forest? Like a dam breaking, memories tumbled free of their confines. Thoren dealt a death blow, falling into the detritus of leaves. An energy blast throwing him across the clearing. An energy blast designed to kill.

  Why was he alive?

  He pulled in a deep breath, his eyes popping wide. Definitely alive. As far as he knew, spirits didn’t breathe.

  Keara leaned over him, her pale skin a contrast to the darkness of the forest. The magic emanating from her possessed its own smell, dark and damp, the taste clogging his throat.

  The scent of death.

  He swallowed, the knowledge of what she had done, what she could do, caught the breath in his lungs. He had died. Dead. Gone. How many people could raise the dead? Was that reality instead of myth? Obviously, seeing how he continued to suck in air. How did Keara possess a mythological ability?

  He grabbed her wrist, checking to see if she existed. She felt like flesh and bone.

  “You’re hurting me,” she hissed and he dropped his grip.

  “What are you, female?” Her death-raising ability might have cured him of a lack of heartbeat, but it did nothing to stop the crackle in his voice.

  She shivered, staring at a point in the darkness. “I am me.”

  And he was a Draconi.

  But if she wanted to act like nothing happened, he’d play the game of pretend. If she could restore him to life, then she could do the same for Thoren. If needed. Enar shuddered. His friend. What happened to Thoren? Was he dead? Nothing to it, but to find him. And if he was dead, well, the cure for that sat beside him in the leaves.

  Enar raised his head, checking to see where the energy blast seared into his chest. Healed. The shirt was ruined, but the gaping burn no longer existed. He ran a hand across the skin. Smooth as a newborn’s.

  He narrowed his gaze on Keara, who squirmed under the scrutiny.

  “You are special. I owe you my life, it seems. Last I saw, Thoren was this way and he was in trouble.”

  Thoren must be dead by now, too much time had elapsed for him to still live. The ache he associated with Lily smacked him in the chest, snagging his breath. Rubbing a hand across his chest, he rolled to his feet. Bloody, aching chest. He grabbed Blood Seeker and took off through the forest.

  Keara was his friend’s only hope for survival, provided she made it to Thoren’s side. She looked half-dead herself. Pale skin glowed in the strands of flickering firelight. Her footsteps stumbled behind him as he led the way through the woods, skirting the perimeter of the clearing.

  The last time he saw his friend, Thoren lay a short distance from where he and Keara stood. Enar stopped, pulling Keara down behind a bush. Goddess help him, but she would have to rescue Thoren on her own. Only she could transport them back to the Temple infirmary. He needed to find Simon and the hooded Draconi and hope his second chance at killing the bastards succeeded.

  “It looks clear, but I last saw Simon and the Draconi here. Thoren was over there,” he pointed to where he last saw his friend, “and he’d been stabbed.”

  “Stabbed?” Keara’s voice came out in a high-pitched squeak instead of a whisper. He placed a finger across his lips, hoping she’d get the message.

  “That’s the way it looked, although how he let Simon stab him is a mystery.” Unless one gave serious thought to Simon understanding the effects of his father’s titanium sword. A thought best left to himself for now. “Yo
ur job is to heal Thoren and get him out of here.”

  “Can you transport him? Because I just learned how to transport myself. I’ve never tried taking anyone with me.”

  “Best learn. Heal him up well enough and he’ll transport himself. Now go, but be careful.”

  “Where are you going?”

  “To make sure we’re alone.”

  “How will I find you?”

  “Don’t worry, I’ll find you.”

  Enar touched her shoulder as he disappeared into the trees, letting the shadows claim him.

  A titanium sword. Could it be? If it was the same one used to capture Fafnir, could he find it? It beat thinking of Thoren dead. Thinking of how he failed his friend. He needed that sword. Chances were good it was here in the clearing. Why else would Thoren’s powers not have worked against Simon? And the blast that killed him came from yards away from Simon and the sword he’d stabbed Thoren with.

  Hiding behind a tree, Enar observed the scene. Dead men surrounded the campfire, several piled up yards away at the Draconia ward lines. Perhaps they had been too scared to venture far into Draconia, preferring instead to be close to the border in case they needed a quick way out.

  Bad idea.

  Their reasons didn’t matter. What mattered now was finding that sword. He knew it had to be here, knew it was what prohibited Thoren from blasting Simon into oblivion.

  He was a reconnaissance specialist. How hard could it be to find a titanium sword?

  And the answer? Not as hard as he thought.

  Simon walked out of the woods carrying the thing, shaking his head as he looked at the carnage. Enar shrunk into the shadows, trying to merge with the tree trunk. Simon placed the sword on the ground and walked back to where he’d come from, disappearing from view.

  Enar watched the shadows, waiting for Simon to pop into view again, but the scum remained hidden. Nothing moved but insects and the fire. All the better for sword retrieval. Walking as quiet as possible through the leaf-strewn ground, he snuck toward the sword. Once there, he knelt on the ground, checking for Simon.