Alliance Forged

by Kylie Griffin

The four scouts exchanged startled looks with one another before each murmured a reply.

  Zaune grunted. “Amazing how you do that. That’s a handy skill you have, Temple… um, Kymora.”

  Her smile widened. “It’s certainly proved useful living with all of you, especially as you’re so quiet. Even with my hearing, you all speak so softly it’s hard to work out who’s talking.”

  The young scout pulled out a chair and helped her to sit, then excused himself. He retreated to the other side of the room where he’d been tending his own weapons when he’d heard the bell announcing a visitor to the apartments.

  Kymora laid her staff aside, resting it against the chair beside her. “Cleaning weapons?” she asked.

  Varian glanced to the table. While he’d sealed the small jug to her right, the tang of blade oil lingered.

  “Just some routine maintenance.” He moved the various blades and equipment there to the far side. She didn’t need a stain or tear in her dress.

  “You should be outside enjoying the weather while it holds.” Kymora tucked a fold of her skirt under her thigh. “You do know about the Summer’s End Festival down on the lakeshore?”

  “It’s been mentioned once or twice today.” Varian sat down and leaned back in his chair. While her pleasant expression remained, the faint odor of bitter herbs settled in his nostrils, and she smoothed her fingers over the edge of the table. “What are you so nervous about, Kymora?”

  Her cheeks flushed a delicate pink. “I came to ask if you, or any of the others, would like to accompany me to the festival.” Her smile took on a wry twist. “I’d like to say I came up with the idea on my own, but I’d be lying. Kalan and Annika came to see me…. They mentioned Lisella and some others were going….”

  “And that we weren’t.” A coldness curled, then settled in his gut. So, once again others had enlisted her to help him. First Kalan and Annika, then Lisella several times during the day. She’d even sent some of the children in to ask him. Did they think that if enough people asked him, he’d change his mind?

  Rubbing shoulders with several hundred people, knowing many of them would be staring and whispering about them, was an experience he could do without. Been there, done that last time they’d lived in the city.

  Whether the Na’Chi had gone together or in small groups to visit the Guild-halls or to explore the streets and People’s Market, he’d felt like an oddity with the humans constantly peering at him, some with outright fear, others with blatant hostility, most with varying degrees of trepidation. Not a lot had changed since their return.

  He wasn’t going to go through something like that again at the lakeshore. “Kalan explained that the event attracts many. People even travel in from the farmlands nearby.”

  She sat a little straighter in the chair, anticipation tugging at the corners of her lips. “It’s one of our much-anticipated festivals. Many don’t get to meet and mix like this until after harvest. There’s always too much to do in the next few months.”

  “Lisella, all the children, and several others left half an hour ago. Annika mentioned setting up a spot somewhere near the grove of needle-trees. They should be there by now.”

  “The clearing in the grove is a great place for a group. Close enough to participate in the festivities but far enough away to be out of the main area.” Her hands stilled on the edge of the table. “Rissa’s probably organized them all by now into teams for a game of flutter-tag. I bet she’s even convinced some of the adults to join in.” She issued a husky laugh. “There’s a lot of fun to be had trying to steal a length of ribbon from someone’s belt.”

  Rissa. Thanks to the young human, the Na’Chi children had learned quite a few games since they’d arrived at Sacred Lake. They’d drop whatever they were doing when she arrived to greet her with hugs and smiles, something she returned with genuine compassion. The children had had so little to celebrate living in Na’Reish territory. At least some of them would grow up knowing what it was like to live as a child instead of a hunted animal.

  “Then you’re missing out on everything by being here.” He folded his arms, ignoring the glances of the others in the room.

  Kymora’s smile faded a little. Her chin lifted. “If tag isn’t your thing, we could always sit and watch…. Oh, and then there’s the most mouth-watering rock-oven-cooked bleater on offer at the food stall, not to mention the sweet-treasures, a pastry that dissolves on your tongue. They have so much honey in them, but once you taste them, you can’t stop at just one…. I don’t know how many times as children Kalan and I would stuff ourselves full of them and then go home feeling sick….”

  Excitement, pleasure, and wistful longing flickered across her face as she recounted the happenings at the festival.

  Varian shook his head. Why would you want to steal a ribbon from someone’s belt? And eat something until it made you sick? Where was the sense in that? Some of the things humans did were just plain… strange.

  But then, when had any of the Na’Chi ever indulged in something that even resembled the pleasure she described? Sharing a meal that left each one of them with a full belly was as close as they’d ever come. In an environment where violence and survival dominated every action, relaxation and fun tended to rank low on a list of priorities.

  If he were honest, her enthusiasm made him crave a slice of her life. The human side of him yearned for it. But to experience it meant being a part of the crowd. That left him feeling queasy. It was hard enough working with Arek to train the other Light Blades. Every hour was a trial of his endurance, every bitter scent of tension a test of his patience, every slight a temptation to live up to their fears.

  Kalan’s and Kymora’s hearts might be in the right place, and their actions to include the Na’Chi were sincere, but tolerance and acceptance from humans as a whole race seemed an impossible dream. Especially when so many of them denied the truth of their origins.

  Varian made a fist beneath the table. Disappointment was one bedfellow he could do without, and today he had little patience for it.

  His earlier uneasiness gnawed away at him. With her skill at reading auras, surely she’d felt his reluctance? Was she ignoring her senses? Or did she have another motive for coming here?

  “Are you expecting me to fulfill the promise I made to you that last time back in the village?” he asked. Her brows dipped in confusion. “The night your brother assigned you two Light Blade warriors as guards I said we’d struggle through our less than satisfactory situations together. Are you calling in that favor?”

  Her mouth dropped open. “No! I’d never do that.”

  “Are you sure?” He kept his voice low and a tight rein on his thoughts. He didn’t need her sensing anything other than what she could hear in his voice.

  “Varian, I knew then you were just joking to lighten the mood.”

  In the short silence that followed, her head cocked to one side as if she were trying to read him. Her brows dipped; the skin around her eyes tightened. He tensed, expecting to bear the brunt of her temper, but then her teeth clamped on her bottom lip.

  She stood, the chair scraping on the stone floor in her haste to rise. “I shouldn’t have come here.” She reached for her staff, her smile strained. “I know how much you value your solitude. I’m sorry I disturbed you.”

  Letting her believe the error was hers twisted his insides.

  If she’d taken the hint, she could’ve avoided this. The reasoning did little to ease his conscience.

  From across the room, a blade hissed as it was shoved into a sheath. Zaune rose from his seat and strode over to them.

  The young scout’s mouth flattened. Violet eyes flecked with black locked with his. His scathing look stated quite clearly what he thought of Varian’s behavior toward her.

  “I’ll go with you, Kymora.” Zaune’s voice held none of the spicy anger coming off him in waves. “I don’t know what a sweet-treasure is, but I think I’d like to try one.”

  He helped her from
her chair, all the while challenging Varian with his gaze. Varian stiffened, jaw clenching. Part of him demanded he put the young scout in his place; another part of him knew the discipline would be undeserved. So he held his seat.

  “I mightn’t be able to stay long,” Zaune warned her. “You know what I’m like in crowds.”

  She placed her hand on his arm. “I understand.”

  Varian’s cheeks heated. Of all the Na’Chi, Zaune had the least incentive to want to attend the festival.

  “If you’re going, I might, too.” Jinnae put aside her mending and pushed to her feet.

  Kymora’s smile returned. “Anyone else?”

  The others declined. She hesitated, her head turning in his direction as if giving him the option to say something. Why would she, considering how he’d treated her? What did she see in him that moved her to give him a second chance?

  Insides knotted, Varian wavered, tempted by her compassion, the words to accept her offer on his lips. Why, only the Lady knew. Understanding his weakness could wait until later. Instead, with fingers that felt wooden and stiff, he reached for the dagger and cloth he’d set aside and began cleaning the blade again.

  Kymora’s shoulders sagged. “Enjoy Summer’s End, then, and may the Lady bless you.”

  Tucking her hand in Zaune’s elbow, she and the two young scouts left the room.

  Some of the tension left his body, but after a few minutes, Varian set the blade down again, his concentration no longer on the task. Rising from the chair, he strode to the window. Outside, the compound was as empty as the hollow feeling growing inside him.

  Kymora’s injured expression remained burned into his brain. Why? He turned his head aside.

  Don’t be a coward. Face the truth!

  He’d pushed her away just to avoid being hurt. That was why. Better to reject someone first before they rebuffed you. He wasn’t proud of the attitude, but it’d helped him survive when he’d needed it most.

  He stood there staring out at the dirt-packed compound, his gaze finding the stone-inlaid pathway that edged the Memorial Garden. It’d been there, the day Kymora had invited him to lunch with the Councilors and their families, that he’d first realized just how much he valued the budding friendship they shared. Her manner was as forthright as his, but she never used that bond to her advantage, and yet he’d accused her of that this evening.

  His lip curled in disgust. At himself, not her. She hadn’t deserved his surliness any more than his cruel behavior. Kymora had come to him as a friend and he’d treated her with disrespect. Zaune’s anger was justified.

  I’m such a beast.

  He flinched, unable to deny the accusation. He stared down at his hands resting on the windowsill. All his knuckles were white. They shook when he released his hold.

  Walking the difficult path takes courage…. Words of scripture from the past, whispered in Hesia’s voice.

  He wished she were here to hold him and tell him everything would be all right, like she used to when he was a child. But she wasn’t. And she didn’t need to be for him to know the path his conscience demanded.

  Taking it would leave him vulnerable. Varian closed his eyes, hating the acrid taste coating the back of his throat. Fear. How many times had he faced it down and refused to let it master him? Letting it win now wasn’t an option.

  He could watch the crowd from a distance, at least until he spotted Kymora, then he’d ignore them as he made his way to her. Inhaling an uneven breath, he straightened away from the window.

  As he passed by the table, he picked up the dagger and fastened it to his belt. He was responsible for his actions. Apologizing to a friend would be a way to start making amends.

  Would Kymora accept it?

  Chapter 19

  “TEMPLE Elect! Temple Elect! Help me… he’s going to get me!”

  Tovie’s excited cry rose above the chaos of the festival. Amidst the cacophony of singing and musical instruments, the hum of hundreds of voices and other unidentifiable noises, Kymora grinned as his giggling turned to a squeal. Two sets of footsteps pounded toward where she leaned up against the solid trunk of a tree at the edge of the clearing.

  “Ha! Got you!”

  Something peppered Kymora’s legs and side as Arek’s triumphant cry rang out. The fresh minty odor belonged to needle-leaves. Crushed underfoot, like during a vigorous game of flutter-tag, they released their pleasant scent. She brushed the thin, segmented fronds from her dress, listening to the scuffle going on in front of her.

  “That ribbon is mine!”

  “No, no, it’s not.” The young Na’Chi boy’s laughter almost made his words unintelligible.

  “You wriggle like a dirt-burrower.”

  A small body rolled against her foot. Kymora reached out and a small hand grabbed hers. She hauled the six-year-old onto her lap, feeling the flutter of his ribbon against the inside of her arm.

  “He’s safe, Second,” she declared. “This young warrior made it all away across the clearing to me. He deserves a second chance.”

  “Hey, those aren’t Rissa’s rules!” Arek’s complaint drew another giggle from Tovie. The Light Blade warrior issued a deep sigh. “I guess you did outrun me.”

  Tovie scrambled from her lap. “Thanks, Temple Elect.” With that, he was off, his boots crunching over the soft ground.

  “You know, the Light Blades should play a game of tag with kids once a week as a part of their training.” Bark scraped as Arek slid down the tree trunk onto the ground beside her. The scent of hot sweat mingled with the minty odor of crushed needle-leaves. Through the sleeves of their clothes, the heat of his arm warmed hers. “Chasing them for an hour is enough to keep up your fitness level.”

  She laughed. “I dare you to raise that at the next Commanders meeting.”

  “You know how dangerous it is to dare me, Kymora!” He snorted. “I can just see Yevni’s face—” His comment cut short with a grunt. “Well, now, that’s something I wasn’t expecting….”

  “What?” The tone of his voice tempted her to reach out and try to read the auras closest to her, but prudence won out. There were far too many people around and she was too close to them to risk being bombarded by their emotions. “Arek? What do you see?”

  “I thought you said Varian wasn’t coming to the festival.”

  Kymora tried to keep her expression smooth. She hadn’t told anyone about the scene with him back at the Na’Chi apartments. If Kalan or Annika heard about it, they’d feel guilty for asking her to approach him.

  “I did,” she replied.

  “Well, he’s standing by the jugglers on the foreshore.”

  Her face heated with the memory of his cold rejection. She stiffened. What was he doing here?

  Arek shifted beside her. Kymora snagged a handful of his breeches. “Where are you going?”

  “To get him. There’s a large group of people between where we are and him, so he can’t see us.”

  Before she could say anything, he was gone. Kymora dropped her hand and dug her fingers into the soft layer of debris on the ground next to her. Why had Varian come down to the lake? In their conversation, he’d given every indication of a man reluctant to accompany her.

  Trying to tempt him with her recollections of festivals past had backfired. Pushing him only left him feeling cornered. So he’d lashed out. It didn’t excuse him for his rudeness, and accusing her of using their friendship had hurt.

  With relations between the Na’Chi and humans strained enough, she’d taken the passive option and left rather than confronting him in a room full of scouts.

  Kymora pressed a hand to her cheek, aware that it felt hot while her fingers were cold. She blinked fiercely, nursing her temper. Lady help her, they’d have a reckoning, but not now, not while the sting of his allegation and the burn of his refusal remained fresh in her mind.

  Reaching for her staff, she pushed to her feet. “Ehrinne?” she called.

  The scuff of a boot step sounded beh
ind her as one of the two Light Blade’s assigned to her stepped closer. “Yes, Temple Elect?”

  For the first time, she was grateful for their presence. If Varian was coming from where the entertainers were located, then she needed to go in the opposite direction.

  “Where are the food stalls?”

  “To your right about seventy paces. There’s a gentle downward slope to the ground here in the grove before it changes to pebbles. Once you feel them under your feet you’ll be on the lakeside.”

  The odor of cooking food would guide her from there. With mealtime approaching, the crowd gathering around the serving tables would be growing. Varian’s aversion would serve her well. A spiteful thought, but she had little patience for him now.

  “Thank you.” Anger gave each swing of her staff extra momentum as she headed for the food stalls. Keeping to a steady pace wasn’t possible over the uneven ground, especially in the grove of trees. The tip of her staff kept striking raised roots, and it took time to step over or go around them. The lack of speed added frustration to her ire.

  “Kymora!”

  She ignored Arek’s hail, hoping he’d think she hadn’t heard him over the growing noise of the festival. Musicians nearby were playing a popular folk ballad and many sang along. Neither of the Light Blades said anything, but she was sure they wondered what she was doing.

  The change of terrain occurred the same time as hurried footsteps approached her from behind.

  “Kymora, wait!” Varian’s voice. “Please.”

  Merciful Mother, she couldn’t face him now, but her steps faltered, her parents’ teachings regarding good manners too ingrained to blatantly ignore him.

  “Temple Elect?” Ehrinne’s soft query came from her left. The older woman’s hand touched her elbow. “Is everything all right?”

  She only had to give the word and both Light Blades would intercept Varian. Temptation parted her lips but, knowing him, he wouldn’t be turned aside easily, so she closed them and shook her head.

  “It’s all right, Ehrinne, thank you.” With a soft sigh, she turned in his direction. The air stirred in front of her. She smelled the familiar tang of blade oil and heated male. Keeping her expression neutral, she waited for him to speak.