by Isabo Kelly
“Help me up,” she said, her voice low with both physical and emotional pain. They helped her to her feet as gently as possible. “Kevin, go see your daughter. I’m sure she’s missed you.”
“Thank you, Victoria. Thank you for saving her life.”
She chuckled then grimaced with the pain. “All I did was get tossed over the edge of a tower and slammed into a few walls. Go on.”
He touched her cheek then turned to his wife and daughter.
“Garath, will you help me down the stairs? I’d like to go see Henry.”
“Of course.”
He wrapped one strong arm delicately around her waist to give her balance. His limp forced them to move slowly, but the pace suited her battered body. She cradled her broken arm against her side and tried not to wince with every step.
The bright light of the cold afternoon was a brutal contrast to the carnage scattered through the ruins. She didn’t look closely at the bodies, figuring she could find out later who had survived. She didn’t want to see all the dead right now.
A large tent had been hastily erected in the front courtyard. Inside, the wounded lay on thick furs and travel blankets. Near the back, Jacob sat with Henry who lay motionless on a pile of furs. His wounded torso was covered by a blanket, but she could see the slow rise and fall of his chest.
When Jacob saw them entering, a relieved smile lifted the sadness from his face. She smiled back, unable to control her own relief. Jacob murmured something to Henry then stood and walked toward them.
“You’re okay?” she asked.
“Worried?”
“No,” she lied pitifully, as she shifted from Garath’s arm to Jacob’s.
“You okay?”
He looked her over, concern creasing the lines around his eyes. She tried on a smile. “Broken up a bit, but I should be all right in a few weeks.” She grimaced as a jolt of pain raced up her arm. “Maybe a few months.”
He frowned, touched her chin and turned her face gently to one side. “Looks like you’re going to have a fat lip tomorrow. Probably a black eye, too.”
She fingered her lip and felt the sting. She licked the blood. “I didn’t even notice that,” she said. “I don’t think I want to see a mirror any time soon.”
“You look beautiful,” Jacob said, seriously.
He ran a gentle hand across her uninjured cheek. For several heartbeats, she could only stare into his dark, loving eyes. After a silent moment, he glanced back over his shoulder at the young sorcerer.
“Henry’s…”
“I know,” she whispered. “Can I talk to him?”
“Sure.” Jacob looked at Garath. “Thanks for helping her. Now you’d better go get that leg tended.”
“Aye, General.” Garath’s smile faltered as his gaze fell back to Henry. He nodded to Vic and Jacob then walked back to the tent’s entrance.
With Jacob’s help and despite her protesting ribs, she knelt down beside the young sorcerer. His eyes were closed. She could hear the hitch of his labored breathing. His tawny skin was a sickly pale yellow and sweat-soaked despite the cool air. Then his eyes fluttered open.
“Victoria Flash,” he whispered, a hoarse shadow of his once melodious voice.
“Hey, Henry,” she murmured, smiling weakly.
His lips shifted into a slight smile, and his eyes closed. When he opened them again, he said, “Give Kritta a message for me?”
She sucked in a sharp breath, unable to hide her surprise. “How’d you know I knew Kritta?”
He breathed what was almost a chuckle. “I’ve always known. That she was part of Thieves’ Hole.” He swallowed and choked back a cough. “Tell her, would you? Tell her I knew. Tell her what happened to me. Tell her I loved her.”
A single tear fell down her cheek as his eyes closed. “I’ll tell her,” she whispered through the ache in her chest that had nothing to do with her broken ribs.
Chapter Twenty-Six
Moving slowly to accommodate the wounded, they crossed back into Georna at nightfall the next day. A troop of soldiers awaited them. Supply wagons and transport carriages made the journey to Georna castle easier on the wounded and weary soldiers. Baroness Georna once again provided rooms within the castle and a safe place to heal.
After two days of rest and several sessions of healing under Dreem’s special touch, most of the survivors recovered quickly. In celebration of Arlana’s rescue, Baroness Georna arranged a small private feast that night for Tiya, Kevin, Jacob, Vic, and any of the King’s Guard well enough to get out of bed.
Vic twirled in front of Jacob, showing off the gown that was a present from the Baroness. Deep red silk clung to her torso and fell in thick folds around her feet. The low neckline and skirt’s hem were embroidered with gold thread. The sleeves were fitted to her arms then flared to long trains also edged with golden thread. “You like?” she asked, cocking her head to one side and smiling.
“Yeah, I like.”
Her flirty smile dissolved into a grin. She lifted the brace on her arm and said, “The cast doesn’t add much, but…”
“You look stunning, love, cast and all. What does Dreem say about your arm?”
“He said I should be back to my usual perfection by the time we leave.” Her bruises and minor cuts had already healed on the return journey to Georna castle. At the least, her face no longer looked like a swollen mess. “How about you?”
He smiled his sultry smile and stalked her. Her gaze was drawn to the strong line of his body beneath the cream breeches and tunic he wore. The gold embroidery on the tunic brought out golden flecks in his eyes that she’d never noticed before. He wrapped one arm gently around her waist, careful not to put pressure on her still tender rib cage or disturb the brace on her left arm.
“I’ll have another interesting scar,” he whispered, running a hand over her cheek, “but, other than that, I’ll heal without complication.”
“Good.” She tilted her face to meet his lips, drinking in the taste of his mouth, warming beneath the tender caresses of his hand at her waist. “I wish I could heal sooner,” she murmured against his mouth.
He pulled back to look into her eyes, a low chuckle vibrating through his body. “You’ll heal soon enough, love. And then, I promise, we’ll make up for lost time.”
“I intend to hold you to that promise, Marin,” she said so seriously he laughed again.
“We’d better get going, little thief. The Baroness awaits.”
The feast was held in the private dining hall. Vic felt an odd sense of repetition walking through those doors and into the dark paneled, red-carpeted room. The last time she’d been here, they’d just come from a devastating battle with the GeMorin and were preparing to run into another. That same loss, the reminder that so many hadn’t returned, from either battle, followed her into the room.
But this dinner wasn’t to discuss future battles or difficulties. It was a celebration. She glanced at Jacob and smiled. She had a lot to celebrate now, too.
They were shown to the same seats they’d occupied during the last dinner. Brandon, who hadn’t returned to his village yet, sat, as before, to the Baroness’s left. Tiya and Kevin were seated to her right. Dreem sat in the place Henry had occupied.
The absence of Henry closed Vic’s throat. She swallowed hard and blinked back the unbidden tears. They all mourned his loss, but tonight was a time for enjoying life.
She met Dreem’s gaze and smiled. Dreem, a sorcerer of some years according to the servants, looked younger than the Baroness. His blue eyes were dimmer than the blood magicians’, dimmer even than Tiya’s. But she suspected he did this on purpose. Those soft blue-gray eyes were comforting, soothing, healing.
His particular talent was magic healing. Very, very few magicians were capable of this specialty. He’d used his power to heal the bodies of those who’d returned. The more seriously injured would take longer to heal. Magic could only rush nature so far. But, with Dreem’s help, everyone would be ready to rid
e back to Dareelia in only two weeks.
As the meal began and the wine flowed, the obvious questions came up in conversation.
“Yes,” Vic said in answer to Dreem’s question. “The sorceress was staring at Arlana when the explosion happened.”
He nodded thoughtfully, pursing his lips.
“I agree with Victoria,” the Baroness said. “The child did cause the disruption in the gate. Though how a babe could manage it, I cannot even guess.”
“The sorceress must have been acting as a focus for the gate,” Dreem said. “That’s the only explanation for why she would have been affected by its destruction.”
“Focus?” Kevin asked.
“It’s possible to tie two people to the gate as foci, one at each end. This not only helps stabilize a gate over long distances, it also makes magical tampering more difficult.” He paused, frowning at his plate.
“What Dreem hesitates to mention,” Baroness Georna added, “is that a gate held between focus is virtually impossible to disrupt. The spell is difficult, the foci must be prepared months in advance, and the danger to the people acting as focus is, as you’ve seen, very great. But the benefits are, for some, worth the risk.”
“So you’re saying,” Tiya said, “that my daughter might have done something that’s supposed to be almost impossible.”
The Baroness’s small smile was full of compassion. “Yes.”
Tiya and Kevin exchanged a long look. Any doubt as to Arlana’s potential disappeared in that moment.
“Don’t worry,” Dreem said. “Merig will know how to train her and keep her safe.”
Some of the worry eased from both Tiya’s and Kevin’s expressions. An unspoken agreement circled the table, a look passing from one person to the next. The news of the prophecy and Arlana’s potential would remain a secret.
By silent mutual consent, the conversation changed direction. Vic learned of the messages that had been sent to Fordin and Dareelia, briefly relaying the events of their journey and the successful rescue of the baby. She also learned that King John and Queen Sara were preparing a celebration to mark the return of the king’s soldiers.
After some debate, Tiya and Kevin decided to return directly to Fordin once a garrison of Fordin soldiers arrived to escort them home. Winter was descending quickly on the northern mountain slopes. It would soon spread across the rest of Karasnia and make travel difficult. With luck, the two groups would just make it back to their respective cities before the worst of the winter storms began.
As the meal wore on and the wine settled into Vic’s blood, sleep edged her thoughts. She’d had peaceful, dreamless nights since the battle. She was looking forward to another when she suddenly realized that someone had been missing from the battle at the ruins.
“I wonder what happened to him?” she mumbled aloud.
“Who, love?” Jacob said, leaning on his armrest to be closer.
“Malkiney. He wasn’t at the monastery. I wonder what happened?”
“He’s probably dead. I doubt the blood magicians were happy with the smuggler after we raided their hideouts.”
“Yeah,” she nodded, “you’re probably right.” Uncertainty nagged her as Malkiney hadn’t been seen since the raid, but she pushed away her unease. Jacob probably was right.
She took another deep gulp of wine and settled back in her seat, determined to stop thinking about anything serious for the rest of the night.
Two weeks later, the king’s soldiers prepared to return to Dareelia. The group gathered in the castle’s courtyard to say their goodbyes before making their way through the snow-covered Georna mountains.
Tiya, Kevin and Arlana rose with the sun to say farewell. They were due to leave in the next few days as the Fordin garrison was to arrive that afternoon.
“Well, boy,” Jacob patted Kevin on the back, “guess we’ll be seeing you at the Baronies Meeting.”
“Yeah, old man. We’ll be there. Don’t get into too much trouble.”
Kevin winked at Vic. “Thank you, Victoria. Again. We’ll never be able to repay you for your help.”
“You don’t have to,” she said, smiling at the baby in Tiya’s arms. “I’m just glad she’s okay.” She stuck her finger into Arlana’s tiny palm and said, “You take care of your parents, little one. And don’t cause too much trouble.” Then she leaned in close and whispered, “A little trouble is all right, but just a little.”
Waving their final goodbyes from horseback, Vic, Jacob and the king’s soldiers left Georna castle to return home.
Winter had arrived in full force when the soldiers returned home. The outlying fields were covered in thick blankets of snow. Inside the city, white covered the rooftops and gray slush piled alongside roads.
The city Vic had left over two months earlier looked and felt different now. The haunting shadow was gone, replaced with the bright reflections of snow. But the air wasn’t the same. A strange sadness crept into her heart when she realized that the city would never be the same again. That she was the one who’d changed.
The streets were lined with people to welcome them home. She pulled her hood over her head and grimaced at the attention. When she was younger, she’d thought being in a procession of victorious heroes would be fun. Now, with the streets so different and the outcome of the war between the gangs unknown, she felt exposed.
Some things never changed.
Just outside the castle gates, townspeople gathered in thick masses to cheer their arrival. Inside the castle courtyard, they were greeted by an honor guard of Karasnian soldiers, a pack of preening nobility and the king and queen. A few of the townspeople had even managed to work their way past the castle gates so the yard was bursting with humanity. They crowded into the large parade ground, shouting and waving at the triumphant returning group.
Vic dismounted, giving Gale an affectionate pat on the chest before turning her over to a groom. She shook her head at the noise and fuss. Any excuse for a celebration, she thought, cocking an eyebrow. She looked at the colorful mass of people and chuckled.
“What’s so funny, little thief?” Jacob whispered in her ear. He wrapped an arm around her, absently running his fingers over her shoulder.
His closeness tingled her nerves. She took a deep breath, loving the feel and smell of him so near. “I never thought that nobles,” she nodded to an approaching groups, “would welcome me back to town. I can see at least a dozen that I’ve either picked their pockets or swindled in some other creative fashion.” Jacob chuckled, low and husky. The sound warmed her to her core.
During their journey, she’d kept waiting for him to raise the subject of her quitting Thieves’ Hole. She dreaded the conversation. She couldn’t doubt anymore that he loved her. And she had to admit she loved him, too. She was pretty sure he wouldn’t leave her soon, that she would be able to depend on him. Goddess, she hoped she could. She couldn’t imagine life without him now. But could she put her life entirely in his hands?
Until that moment, she hadn’t known if she could give up everything she’d once been, give up the security of knowing she was reliant only on herself, to place her life and her heart in his care. She nestled closer, avoiding his gaze, as they walked toward the king and queen.
Jacob removed his arm and stood at attention before King John. The rest of the soldiers collected behind them. She glanced back to see them all standing straight and proud, saluting their king.
“We’re glad you have returned safely to us, General Marin,” King John intoned for the crowd. “We and our queen wish to thank you and these brave soldiers for rescuing our granddaughter. Tonight, in honor of our loyal and brave warriors, we’ll give a feast in the great hall.”
A cheer rose through the crowd.
Beneath the noise, King John muttered, “Welcome home, Jacob, Victoria.” He winked before turning his attention back to the crowd. “Now, we will give our warriors the rest they so richly deserve.”
The crowd roared and all formality fell a
way. The soldiers were instantly surrounded by people, all talking at once, hoping for a firsthand account of the events that had been rumored back to the city. King John and Queen Sara clasped hands with each of the soldiers, personally thanking them and congratulating them on their safe return home.
When Queen Sara returned to where Vic and Jacob stood, she scooped Vic into a tight hug. The gesture caught Vic by surprise and it took several heartbeats before she was able to return the hug with an awkward pat on the queen’s back.
“Thank you for helping to save my granddaughter,” Queen Sara said. “If there’s ever anything I can do for you, Victoria, you have my debt.”
“Thank you, Majesty,” she muttered, at a loss for anything else.
“And when we’re alone,” the queen whispered through a conspiratorial grin, “call me Sara.”
She could only nod and grin. When Queen Sara moved away, she saw Jacob grinning. Her brow snapped down. “What?” she demanded.
“Nothing. Looks like we’ll be having that nice friendly lunch with the royal family after all.”
Vic glowered, to hide her embarrassment. He continued to smile.
She turned to scan the crowd, ignoring his chuckle. And a familiar face in the crowd caught her attention. “I’ll be back in a minute,” she said, moving away before he could protest.
“Well, well, Vic Flash.” Deraun Gip leaned against the castle wall, arms crossed over his chest. “Never thought I’d see one of our people riding up Main Street in a parade.”
She grinned and bowed. “What can I say?”
He took in her attire in a single scan. She glanced down, seeing her clothing—tan breeches, a white shirt, light brown boots, white half cloak—through his eyes.
“You look different, Flash. Thought you had to be forced to wear colors like that.”
“They blend with the snow.” She grimaced despite her best efforts when she admitted, “They were a gift.”
Gip glanced at Jacob and raised a brow.
“No. Baroness Georna, actually.”