Warlord's Flame (Krystile Warriors Book 2)

by Owner

  At least Mack’s words brought a halt to the women’s dire predictions.

  Bess walked toward the crest of the hill, the valley laid out before them sat in long shadows now from the trees that surrounded it. The sky was pink and orange and crimson as the sun lit the low clouds on its way to the horizon. A rosy glow fell over everything.

  When Var returned to the campfire to get his supper, Myra whispered something to him. Bess noticed them watching her. Var motioned her to come to him.

  The wind had picked up and Bess shivered. Even though the days were warm, the nights were cool. With a deep sigh, she returned to the campfire aware of Myra’s ill will with every step she took. Var motioned to the ground beside him.

  “I know,” she said, “Sit. Eat.” She sat on the other side of Var, away from Myra and Amage.

  Var handed her a plate of dried fruit and fish.

  “Why does ‘green eyes’ not eat the same thing as us?” Myra asked.

  Var paid no attention to the woman.

  Bess felt strangely detached. Var had exploited her dream of sanctuary. The chatter of Myra and Amage made her wish they were silent. They had nothing except horrible stories to tell.

  “Why is she so special?” Myra insisted.

  Var pulled a cloth out of his pocket and laid it down. “You can wear this gag until someone speaks to you.” He did not look up.

  Mack chuckled. Myra huffed before Var pierced her with his steely blue expression and then nodded to the gag. Shooting daggers at Bess with her eyes, Myra grabbed the cloth and went to her tent with it. Amage smiled and followed.

  “That was mean,” Bess whispered.

  “I have another gag,” Var said.

  Bess closed her eyes. Something besides Var’s cold emotions assaulted her and since she had effectively blocked Myra and Amage, she let her mind go out into the night. Searching. Someone was coming. She found the emotions and then the thoughts. They were riding fast and bringing death. Their weapons ready. Panic choked the sound out of her.

  “They come,” she stood and turned to run.

  Chapter 25

  Before the words were out of her mouth, Mack and Var were up and their swords drawn. Var moved toward her while he searched for the attackers. All she could do was point. He grabbed her and carried her to the edge of the trees. She shuddered at the sound of the arrow coming through the air. It stopped with a sickening sound and she knew it entered Var. He grunted.

  Bess felt his sharp pain. She also felt him cut it off quickly with his warrior’s control. She wondered that her thoughts were so clear at a time like this.

  Var pulled her with him further away from the fire and roughly pushed her down between two fallen logs at the edge of the clearing. “Stay down.” His voice was a quiet rasp.

  He and Mack stood ready with their own swords drawn when the men thundered into the camp. She felt the warlords slow the beating of their hearts. The concentration they brought to battle frightened her.

  Mack’s whip flew and jerked one of them off his horse.

  Var’s whip wrapped around another man’s neck and ripped him from his mount as he rode through the camp swinging his sword.

  Bess knew the man’s neck was broken before he hit the ground. His fear struck through her as the darkness closed in on him. He had a moment of panic when he struggled against it. Finally, he accepted his end. She pulled back just as he sank into the dark lake of death.

  The fire in the center of their campground rose up, the flames licking the sky and crackling fury while providing more light for the battle.

  The attackers were off their horses, brandishing swords so fast it was a blur. One started for the tent with the other women in it. Ripping through the side of the tent with a long swath of his dagger, he pulled the screaming women out. “Not these,” he shouted to his friends before pushing the women to the ground. The man looked down, shock on his face. The firelight revealed a long handled knife sticking out of his chest. Bess looked away. Var had thrown the knife. Bess pulled her empath sense back from the dying man.

  The horses were snorting and stomping. Amage and Myra continued to scream. Bess heard the grunts and shouts of the men as they fought. Mack gave a battle cry that ended in a laugh as he turned away from the spray of blood that came from the attacker’s throat. He pulled his knife out and slung little droplets of blood that were suspended in the firelight for what seemed an eternity. The wood in the fire crackled and burned and sparks rose up to meet the blood.

  The air was filled with the sounds of swords as they met other blades in the air creating sparks. Sometimes she heard the macabre sound of one of those sharp metal blades sinking into flesh. The worst was when the swords hit bone. She covered her ears.

  Var and Mack stood back to back fighting the four remaining men. The way they moved and the way they swung their swords through the air reminded Bess of a beautiful dance.

  The one who had been jerked from his mount by his arm staggered back to the fight making the number of attackers five. His sword swing was too slow, probably due to his injured arm. Bess felt his pain, but moments later Mack’s sword cut him almost in half. Mack pulled out his second sword and charged with both swords scissoring through the air. The sound as Mack worked the heavy blades was unique and Bess knew it would haunt her nightmares along with other scenes of horror and death.

  Bess hid her face, but only for a second. She watched the battle from the safety of the trees. The dancing light from the roaring fire cast a nightmarish glow over the camp.

  Var’s arm was bleeding, but the wound did not slow him. His sword slashed a man’s leg. The attacker went down on one knee. As Var held another back with the sword in his right hand, he stuck the sword in the ground and grabbing the man’s hair, spun and sliced across his throat with the dagger in his left hand.

  Bess pulled her mind back, trying to close off all that she was reading. It was like a torrent of water running through her fingers. She couldn’t hold it back. Whispered chants flowed from her lips.

  She feared for Var. Why?

  Blades flashed in the light. Var went on the attack against the last man standing.

  Mack had ended one of the two men he was fighting and he knelt down to speak to the other, who was wounded.

  The pain assaulted her. Doubled over from the suffering and death, Bess was on her knees with her arms wrapped around her middle. She bowed forward until her forehead touched the ground.

  The fight was over, but the energy of pain and death hung over the camp like heavy smoke from their campfire.

  She let out a startled scream when she felt someone touch her shoulder. Var bent over her. “I would know if you are injured,” he said.

  Bess’s lips moved, but she could not focus on Var. She couldn’t stop her whispered chanting any more than she could erase the battle from her memory.

  “I would hear an answer.” He leaned down to look in her face and held her shoulder in one large hand.

  Bess shook her head, still whispering the words. His touch grounded her. Blood poured from the wound in his arm.

  He followed her gaze. As if he only just now realized there was an arrow through his arm, he broke the arrow and reached around to pull it through.

  Bess flinched when his pain hit her, but she realized even now he was holding some of the pain at bay. His control was outstanding.

  Before she realized she was moving, Bess covered the wound on his arm with her hands. His blood was hot on her skin. It pumped out now that he had removed the arrow. Bess worked fast, gasping when she felt the wound through her own arm. Blood flowed from both of them. She healed him. The muscles, tendons, arteries and veins knit back together, as she took on his injury.

  Var’s bleeding slowed and stopped before her arm began to heal. She felt the pull of her body closing around the wound as if it had never been. When it was finished, she stood still for a moment holding his arm. Touching him, she tried to see how he hid the pain.

  The dang
er of losing control had passed and she sighed deeply giving up on learning more about him.

  Bess admired his strange blue eyes. Calm. He was calm, but concerned about her. She was receiving from him. She saw a picture from his mind. An injured animal. A doe. He touched the blood on her arm where the wound had been. Her blood upset him. It was as if she and Var were the only two people in the world and she experienced his thoughts. They were enclosed in a soft cocoon that shut out everyone and everything else. His heart beat through her body. Steady and strong. Pain licked her as they broke contact. He gave her a sharp look. He felt it too.

  She touched the muscles in his chest and arms. Both of her hands could not reach around his huge bicep. Bess had healed him on impulse. If he knew other MX, he might know they were capable of healing. She bit her bottom lip.

  He looked directly into her eyes.

  She moved her hands, now covered in his blood and hers. Her arm, completely healed, no longer hurt. The only indication was her bloody sleeve. She took an unsteady step back.

  His hand caught her elbow.

  Bess looked away and down. Her eyes must have gone violet.

  Var bent down and put his mouth close to her ear. His scent and presence enveloped her. His voice was soft, meant only for her. “You healed me but you said you were not a strong empath.”

  Even now, he dug for information. “I am not a strong one, but I am an empath. When those around me hurt, I feel it.”

  “Your eyes turned violet and glowed.”

  Her voice trembled, “When I-It’s-It just happens.”

  Var nodded. “We will speak of this later,” he promised as he walked her back toward the campsite. “Gather your things.” Var let go of her and continued to where Mack knelt over the last living attacker, asking him questions.

  Bess recoiled in horror when the white hot pain hit her. First Mack and now Var were causing some of that pain.

  She could not accept in her mind that Var would deliberately torture someone, but she had been touching him, had just healed him, and she still had a link with him. It was his job. The horror of that truth hit her. The sour taste of bile rose in her throat before filling her mouth. She wretched. The emotions that violated her were not so easily dealt with.

  Finally, Var’s knife stabbed into the man’s throat.

  She gasped and turned away as the warlords stood up.

  Bess thought they had killed him quickly to prevent a slow death. Her senses told her something different. Once he answered their questions, the warlords had no more use for the man.

  Var and Mack gathered their horses and pulled the two women from their ruined tent.

  “Grab everything you need.” Mack ordered.

  Myra and Amage had not been harmed, but both were terrified. They hurried to gather their belongings.

  They broke camp. Var and Mack loaded tents and supplies onto the pack animals.

  Var kicked dirt over the fire and they were enveloped in darkness. She felt the warlords moving around her. They were swift and sure of themselves. Var was lifting her onto the horse. When had he saddled it? Mack helped Myra and Amage on their horses and they headed down the slope to cross the meadow. It was a terrifying ride in the dark. Bess could not make her heart slow down to normal. The emotions and pain of the attack had drained her.

  She heard Mack and the women behind them. Or maybe she felt them more than heard them. Disoriented by the darkness, Bess kept hoping her eyes would adjust, but she could see nothing.

  “Relax,” Var whispered in her ear.

  Bess shivered. His voice was low and husky. She felt his warm breath on her neck and a soft sigh escaped her throat.

  “You are shaking. I would have you calm.”

  She was far from calm, but she tried to still her shaking.

  He positioned her sideways in front of him and pulled her close.

  She buried her face in his chest and his warmth and breathed him

  in. Bess relished the heat from his body. She told herself she was not safe with him no matter how she felt. Was she foolish to trust him? Yes she was, but right now, she needed the comfort his strength gave her.

  “It’s so dark,” she said in a hushed voice.

  “I can see.” His voice was low and his whispered breath stirred her hair.

  They made their way across the meadow. Finally, as the thin crescent moon rose, they entered a wooded area. Riding through the forest at night was eerie. The scant moonlight was scattered by jagged tree limbs and clouds that drifted by. Bess wondered how the clouds could be so uncaring after all the violence she had just witnessed. Yet the moon continued on.

  The warlords moved through the dark forest easily. Bess decided the horses must also have excellent night vision.

  “Trust me,” Var said. “I will take care of you.” The power of his voice rolled through her.

  ***

  When Bess jolted awake, dawn was just beginning to lighten the sky. The forest was filled with fog that drifted around the trunks of the trees in wisps that reminded her of an enchanted forest in a fairytale.

  They rode through a stone doorway into a large courtyard area. It was still difficult to make out shapes, but there was a building here with a small clearing in front of it. Mack and Var silently dismounted and got the women off the horses. Var escorted them inside and lit a candle.

  It felt like a hunting lodge and was mostly underground. The house was cold and had the smell of ashes and something long closed up. There were only two small windows in the long rectangular front room, but there were two doors on the back wall.

  Var led her to the door on the left. The room they entered was small with an over-sized bed. He gave Bess a candle and left her in the chamber.

  A small stand held a pitcher and a basin, both dry. Bess pushed on the mattress before she sat on the bed. She lay down thinking she would get under the covers later.

  Men were dying, the darkness closing in around them. She woke with a start. Strong arms held her. Var had pulled her tight against his chest. Bess relaxed into him. She was warm, safe. His scent was calming. Reassured, she drifted off and dreamed again of less violent things.

  ***

  Myra and Amage kept an uneasy silence the next morning. Everyone except Mack was out of sorts. Var’s scowl did not ease the tension. Bess felt none of the concern he’d shown her last night. Had she imagined it? Maybe, he’d decided, as most people did, that she was something to be feared. She probably shouldn’t have healed him.

  The warlord definitely knew something about empaths, but her own emotions were too scattered to read him well. Now his feelings were closed off to her. If Myra and Amage weren’t so hateful, she could get information from them. They still threw unfriendly feelings toward her and she continued to shield against them.

  The tension lessened only slightly when Mack and Var went outside and left the women alone in the cabin. As an empath, feeling the stress without being able to discern or understand the origin, was distressing her.

  Bess had taken the ripped tent and tried to sew it up. She had seen vids on how sewing was done, but the reality of it was much more difficult.

  She let her mind go every so often to feel for others close to them.

  Myra and Amage were cooking in a large black pot over the fireplace. They added ingredients and stirred it.

  “We could use some help,” Myra said.

  “What do you need?” Bess put the sewing down and moved to them. She wasn’t having any luck with it anyway.

  Myra handed her a large knife, “Cut this meat for the stew.”

  Bess wondered how that was usually done. Her practical living skills were seriously lacking.

  Myra saw her confusion, “Hold the meat in your hand and slice it into smaller pieces for the stew.”

  Bess held the meat Myra shoved into her hand. Memories of the death of the animal touched her. Invaded her. , faint though they were, touched her.

  “You’re doing it all wrong.” Myra’s
strident voice alarmed her. “Here, let me help you.” Myra placed one of her hands under Bess’s and grabbed the knife with her other to saw across the meat.

  Bess looked down to see what splattered on her leg. It was red. Like – blood. Her hand was bleeding. Bleeding a lot. The blade was so sharp, now she felt it. Her hand was open, the cut deep and the blood was flowing so fast.

  When she jerked back, the meat fell. Her blood was crimson.

  “You clumsy scrub!” Myra shouted. “You are useless.”

  Bess stared at Myra with her mouth open. Her shields down, she felt the full extent of Myra’s hate and it nearly knocked her down. It would take some time to process all she saw from Myra’s touch. Bess realized now how foolish it had been to block against Myra’s hatefulness.

  The taller Myra hooked her foot around Bess’s legs and shoved her to the floor.

  “Amage, help me!” Myra shouted then lowered her voice to a whisper, “Finish her.” She spoke between clenched teeth.

  Bess scrambled to her feet, Myra gave her a hard push into the table. After Bess hit the table and fell to the floor, Myra kicked her hard in the ribs. Bess tried to roll away, but Myra kept kicking.

  Something cracked. She needed to breathe and it hurt.

  Amage screamed when the fire flared up and almost burned her. The sound of heavy boots from outside caused Myra to move back. She stood between Bess and the fireplace. A frightened Amage retreated across the room when Var and Mack came through the door.

  “That girl is clumsy and useless,” Myra shouted. “She cannot handle the simplest of tasks. You should sell her to the first one who is fool enough to buy her.”

  Bess stayed on her left side with her arm extended. Her blood made a small lake in the palm of her hand before it ran over and seeped into the floor.

  Var strode to the embers, grabbed a metal poker from the hot coals, and knelt beside her. He held her wrist to the floor and placed the red-hot poker over the gash on her hand.

  Chapter 26

  Bess screamed as pain flashed through her. When he pulled the hot iron off, she was left with the pain of her cauterized hand and the sickening smell of her own seared flesh. Ignoring Var’s helping hand, she turned on her side and pulled herself up using the table leg. She gasped at the pain, but managed to stand upright only with Var’s strong hands holding her up.