“Yes, you mind?”
“No. I mean, yes. Jackson claimed me.”
“Jackson claimed…” Kiara scowled. “What do you mean ‘Jackson claimed you?’ When?”
“When he returned from Argonas.” She ran her fingers over small dots of color reflecting from sparkling flecks in the rock. “From the dungeon.”
“I see.”
“What do you see?” She couldn’t help the small note of defensiveness that crept into her tone. No matter how good a friend Kiara had become, some things were still personal.
Kiara covered Ryleigh’s hand with her own. “How much did Jackson explain to you about our custom of claiming?”
“Not much. Just that Cymmeran men claimed their destined mates when they found them. That it was impossible to resist the urge.”
Kiara snorted, a very unladylike sound from the delicate woman who always seemed so together. “When I get my hands on that boy, I’m going to slap him upside the head.”
Ryleigh lurched back, shocked by the anger in her tone.
But humor danced in Kiara’s eyes. “It’s not really his fault.” She folded her legs and rested her elbows on her knees, settling as if for a long conversation.
It probably wouldn’t matter. With darkness falling, they wouldn’t be going anywhere until morning.
Many of the women and children were trying to fashion some sort of structure from the materials they’d found. For a moment or two, she thought they might be on to something, but then the tent-like shelter they’d managed tumbled down. At least the catastrophe had elicited shaky laughter from the children. And even some of the adults. Her people were strong. No matter what happened, they’d bounce back, and they’d rebuild their lives.
Her soldiers were still collecting whatever they could find from the jungle’s edge. None of them seemed at all disturbed by any kind of undercurrent. She couldn’t understand why none of them could feel anything when it was so apparent to her.
Mia accompanied them this time, pointing at something in the uppermost branches of the trees.
Noah leaned his head beside Mia’s and studied something in a tall tree, thick with leaves that were such a dark green they almost appeared black.
“In our culture, women usually take responsibility for teaching their children about claiming.”
The words evoked a small spark of curiosity. She actually knew very little about Cymmeran culture.
Kiara smiled. “Our women are the gentler sex in case you hadn’t noticed.” She sobered. “Jackson lost his mother when he was young, leaving his father empty and broken. He obviously didn’t teach him well.”
“Teach him what?”
“Our men don’t just go around claiming women as their mates, Ryleigh.”
“Yeah, I was kind of bothered by that.” That was true enough, but there’d also been that intense desire to be one with Jackson that she hadn’t been able to fight. And the overwhelming sense of jealousy over Payton at the most inappropriate time.
“When you completed the ceremony, did women’s voices join the men’s?”
The memory sent heat rushing through her. The chant of the men’s voices had begun first; then a chorus of women’s voices had joined them. “Yes.”
“Good.” She patted Ryleigh’s arm. “Our people claim each other. If you were not meant to be with Jackson, had not chosen to be with him, he would never have been able to complete the ceremony.”
Pressure lifted from her. “That actually makes me feel better.” She smiled. “Thank you.”
“Don’t thank me yet. There’s a down side too. Claiming is an unbreakable bond that grows stronger and stronger over time. If it didn’t, it might be difficult to stay together for centuries and centuries on end. Cymmerans only take one mate, for eternity.”
Ryleigh shivered, the concept of living forever more than she could deal with, or even fully understand. The thought of living forever without Jackson, agonizing.
Kiara continued softly. “Even though our people are pretty much immortal, they do sometimes die. Especially in times of war. Times like these. We can heal almost any wound, but even we can’t heal an injury that’s instantly fatal.”
Jackson had explained that to her already, but she’d chosen to ignore it. Too much info her mind wasn’t yet ready to process.
“When mates are separated, usually by death, it is very hard on the surviving mate. They suffer greatly, become weak, lose their energy, and sometimes even their will to live.”
That grabbed her full attention. “What are you talking about?”
“The depression grows worse over time. You can fight the effects, but it’s not easy. Some give in to despair, become mere shells of the people they once were. But it doesn’t have to be that way. If you are aware of the effect your mate’s absence is having, you can fight it.”
Okay, Jackson probably should have mentioned that part. But to be fair, he had probably explained it as best he could when he’d told her about his father’s despondency after the loss of his mother. Ryleigh just hadn’t connected the dots.
“Thanks, Kiara.”
“No problem. Don’t forget, I’m here if you need me.” She squeezed Ryleigh’s hand. “Now, let’s go see what’s going on over there before curiosity drives us both insane.”
Tristan cupped his hands and hoisted Noah into the tree.
Ryleigh and Kiara slid off the rock and jogged toward Mia.
Tristan stretched his arms up into the thick foliage.
Kiara was right.
The suspense was killing her. “What’s going on?”
Mia continued to stare into the treetop. “Mato flew up into the tree and got stuck. I guess he wasn’t as healed as he thought.”
“Mato?”
“The little black pup who was hurt saving me. I named him Mato. It means brave.”
Tristan took the pup from Noah and handed him to Mia.
“Thank you so much.” She cradled him against her, cooing softly and petting beneath his chin. The arrow wound looked much better than it had, though still not fully healed.
“Where are you going?” Tristan yelled into the tree.
“I’ll be right down. I want to check something.” Noah climbed higher, rustling leaves and branches.
Ryleigh shielded her eyes from the bright sunset. She still couldn’t see him through the branches. “What’s he doing?”
Tristan shrugged, still craning his neck to try to see into the tree. “Don’t know for sure, but I’d guess trying to get to the top and get a good view.”
Ryleigh should have thought of that. It would be safer to send scouts if they had some idea what to expect.
Noah dropped from the tree, startling her. All the color had drained from his face.
“What is it? What did you see out there?”
He held up a hand to stop her questions and shook his head. “There’s nothing.”
Tristan scowled. “What do you mean nothing? There has to be something.”
Noah’s blank expression scared her. “I could see across the entire clearing, and a ring of jungle surrounding it, and then there’s just nothing. It’s black as far as I could see in every direction.”
* * * *
Jackson stood staring at the pile of weapons. The only explanation he could come up with involved the savages gathering the weapons from his dead soldiers. Ryleigh’s blood-soaked sweatshirt made no sense. He slammed it to the ground.
There had to be survivors. If he could just figure out where they’d gone. The hard-packed snow and ice covering the rocky mountainside made finding footprints nearly impossible. It would be difficult to track someone even knowing what direction they’d gone. Without knowing, there was no way. Especially if they’d taken care not to be followed.
If anyone had fled in this direction, which seemed the most likely, they’d have to be in the surrounding mountains or the caves. With no idea who might have survived,
he couldn’t even take a guess about what they’d have chosen. Maybe he had people in both.
A low growl sounded from behind a natural boulder formation at the cave’s entrance.
He drew his sword and backed up a few steps. Any more and he’d tumble over the side.
Another growl.
Jackson edged away from the boulders toward the far side of the opening.
A soft whimper stopped him.
He changed direction.
Something was back there, and it sounded as if it were in pain.
He climbed the boulders, careful to keep from knocking any free, and peered over the top.
Max lay on the plateau, head resting on his front paws. He cried again and rolled onto his side, his back pressed against the stones.
Wary of startling the wolf, he called softly, “Max?”
He rolled onto his back and stared up at Jackson.
“What happened, boy?” He returned his sword to its place and climbed over the top.
Max stayed where he was, soft cries rocking his body.
When Jackson reached him, he weaved his fingers into the thick fur surrounding his head.
This made no sense. If Ryleigh had died in the throne room—his stomach heaved at the thought—why would Max be on the plateau with Ryleigh’s bloody sweatshirt? Unless he’d gone after Mia. “Come on, boy. We’ll go find her.”
Jackson started toward the caves where he’d sent Dakota and Ranger.
Max remained in place. His eyes rolled toward Jackson.
“Let’s go, boy. I’m not leaving you here.”
He scrambled to his feet and kept his right front paw tucked close beneath his body.
“What happened?” Jackson squatted beside him and ran a hand along the length of the wolf’s leg. Broken in two places. “Is this why you stopped?”
Max lowered his head.
Jackson smoothed his hand over the injuries again, this time weaving heat between the broken bones. Max had been at Ryleigh’s side ever since he’d returned from Argonas with her. Elijah had called him a totem, a spirit animal who’d offered the qualities she needed most to survive her ordeal. What would happen to Max if Ryleigh was truly gone?
Jackson tamped down the thought and forced his full concentration to healing the wolf. A tremor shook his hand. Odd. That had never happened before while performing a healing. His hands were usually rock steady.
Once the injury was healed, Jackson stepped back. “Go ahead. Give it a try.”
Max stepped tentatively at first. After a few steps, he launched himself forward and skidded around the edge of the boulders toward the center of the clearing. When he reached the edge of the platform, he turned and ran back to Jackson.
With no clue what Max was trying to tell him, Jackson followed.
Max ran back and sat in the center of the plateau. He stared at Jackson, his deep blue eyes unreadable.
“I’m sorry, Max. I don’t know what you’re trying to tell me, though it seems important.” There just wasn’t anything there to see, and Jackson had people missing. “Come on. We’ll come back later and try to figure it out.”
Jackson turned away.
Max remained vigilant, sitting tall in the center of the plateau, very near the pile of discarded weapons.
“Suit yourself.” He’d come back and check on him again after they’d done a thorough search.
He started toward the caves. He’d make sure Darius and Vaughn were doing all right, then begin a search. If Max had been with Mia, he may not have been able to climb any higher with his broken leg. They’d search the mountains first.
Though he found it hard to believe Mia would have left Max behind. From what he knew of Mia, she’d put an animal on her back and carry him up the mountain before she’d leave him injured and alone. Crap. He had no idea what to think.
He patted Ophidian’s side as he passed him.
The dragon stood sentinel at the mouth of the cave. He’d warn them if anyone approached, long before they reached the plateau.
He stooped to avoid the low hanging rocks at the cave entrance.
Darius and Vaughn lay side by side on the hard ground. Dim light flickered above them where someone had propped a flame on a jutting rock.
“How are they doing?”
Dakota looked up from where he sat holding Darius’s hand. He shrugged. “As well as could be expected, I guess.”
“Ranger?”
Ranger hunched over Vaughn. Healing light spilled from his hands, filling the hole through Vaughn’s middle. “I’m pretty sure it’s the same magic that killed King Maynard.”
“How can you tell?”
He pursed his lips. “I don’t really know how to explain it, but Vaughn’s wound has the same feel. You know what I mean?”
Jackson had very little experience with magic. His worst scores during Death Dealer training had come in the sessions on magic. “Is there anything you can do?”
He shook his head. “I have no idea. I’m trying to heal the wound, but it’s stubborn, doesn’t want to close.” He shifted and placed one hand against Vaughn’s back. “It seems like he’s trying to help me fight it. Every once in a while I feel a small boost in my power.”
“Vaughn was always strong on magic training.”
“Yeah.” Ranger grinned. “Elijah used to tease him, said he had Fae blood somewhere in his history.” He knelt, straddling Vaughn’s legs, struggling to keep him on his side while pressing one hand to his back and the other against his stomach.
“Can I do anything to help?”
“You could try working on his back while I try to heal the injury to his gut. I don’t know if it’ll work. Kiara explained a little about the magic to me when she was trying to heal your father. It’s bad stuff, Jackson.”
“Would Kiara be able to save him, if I could find her?”
“I don’t know. He seems to be holding his own for the moment, but I can’t say how long he’ll be able to hold on.”
Jackson knelt behind Vaughn and pressed his hands against the exit wound. He called on the healing light from his core, concentrated harder than he ever had. Anger fueled his focus, powered the intensity of his healing light. “I don’t understand why he did it.”
He didn’t expect an answer, but he couldn’t contain the anger any longer. He had to vent somehow, or the guilt would drive him mad. “Why would he jump in front of me? We knew there’d probably be savages waiting. It only made sense. More sense than anything else that went on today.”
Ranger slid his hand from Vaughn’s stomach and placed it over Jackson’s, stilling the violent tremors that shook his hands. “He’s a good friend, Jackson.”
“I know that, but it still doesn’t explain why he’d jump in front of me. Was he afraid I couldn’t take them?” A bruised ego was the least of his problems. A soldier who didn’t trust him could be a major issue, though.
Ranger returned his hands to Vaughn’s wound, leaving blood streaked across the back of Jackson’s hands. “Look, Jackson, there are things better left alone.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
Ranger sighed. “Now’s not the time.”
“It damn well is the time. If there’s a problem among my men, I need to know that.” He reigned in his temper. It wouldn’t do Vaughn any good, and it was robbing him of energy better spent trying to heal Vaughn. “Spill it, Ranger. We’ve been friends a long time. Tell me what’s going on.”
“It’s not like that, Jackson. There’s not a problem.” Sweat beaded on his forehead. He used the back of his wrist to wipe it away. “It’s just different now, you know?”
“What’s different?”
“You’re not just one of us anymore.” He looked away. “You’re the king now. You need to be protected at all costs.”
“Are you crazy? What are you talking about?” He was the same person he’d always been. The fact his comrades, his friends, viewed
him differently rattled him.
“Look, Jackson.” He paused and shook his head.
Jackson waited, unsure he’d continue. He didn’t need this nonsense right now. But too much was at stake to ignore a potential problem. Something that could surface at a crucial moment.
“A lot of us… Well, all of us, really, we’ve had to deal with a lot of guilt.”
“Guilt?”
“When King Maynard was injured on the battlefield, and Kai, his second-in-command, issued the order to retreat…” He gritted his teeth. “We shouldn’t have listened. None of us wanted to leave him.”
“I know that, Ranger.” Leaving a man behind was never an option. But neither was ignoring a direct order from your commanding officer. Not in Cymmera, anyway, where the penalty for such defiance was death. “Our laws are harsh, Ranger. Maybe, when this is all over, we’ll have to re-evaluate some of them.”
“You didn’t leave him.”
“He was my father.”
“He was my King,” Ranger yelled, then glanced at Vaughn and huffed out a breath.
“Risking all of our Death Dealers to save a man who was beyond saving would have been foolish.” In his head, Jackson knew that. But his heart hadn’t let him walk away. His loyalty to his father had demanded he save him. At any cost.
Ranger lowered his voice. “But you were willing to risk yourself. First on the battlefield and then again after. When you could have been sentenced to death.”
A humorless laugh escaped. “I was already facing the death penalty for any number of things at the time. One more made little difference. Besides, if anyone was at fault that day, it was me.”
“You?”
He looked away, still ashamed at not taking command immediately at the time. Still riddled with guilt over allowing Kai to rule his kingdom, even for a short time. Still rattled that he’d trusted the man. “I already bore the mark of the king on my arm. I could have taken charge right then and there on the battlefield. I should have taken charge. I didn’t.”
Ranger gasped.
The blame lay directly on Jackson’s shoulders. Thankfully, the result would have been the same whether he’d taken control or not. Once the magic arrow had penetrated his father’s body, nothing could have saved him. At least that was one burden he didn’t have to live with. “I’ve grown since then. Accepted my role, accepted my responsibility.”
Battle for Cymmera Page 10