The Unforgiven

by A. Katie Rose

  Rising, they brought her upright with them. As it had me, the dark pewter stilled her powers as effectively as a raging river douses a campfire. As helpless as I, Iyumi struggled in her captor’s grip, cursing, her tidy braid falling to pieces. The soldier cuffing Iyumi’s wrists in front of her winced, as Iyumi tried to kick him in the groin.

  “Let me go, you stinking shits,” she yelled, fighting like a cat. “I’ll kill you!”

  Yanking her knife from her belt, she sought to stab the nearest, her hands together. Made clumsy by the manacles, she missed and the soldier stripped her of her one remaining weapon with a pained expression. As each of them easily outweighed her by a hundred pounds, she stood as much chance as a mouse caught up by a sandstorm. One man scooped up the screaming baby as the other held her still, gripping her shoulder with one beefy hand.

  Flinging dust and curses with equal ferocity, Iyumi grabbed the troll and hugged her tight to her meager chest. “Leave off, scumbags,” she shrieked, jerking her shoulder free. “Van? Vanyar!”

  She saw me then, collared like a dog and bleeding profusely under the knees of two men and the obnoxious third who kicked me in the ribs. Unable to breathe, I swallowed blood, choking, my chest on fire. Through blurred vision, close to blacking out, I squinted through the pain to witness her fight like a tigress.

  “Leave him alone!” she screamed, lunging toward me.

  The man yanked her back, avoiding her vicious kick to his shin with a grunt and a swift side-step. Before she could follow through with another, his mate jerked her off balance with his arm around her waist and held her still, fuming and cursing.

  “Let me go,” she screamed, trying to stomp his toes. “I’ll kill you, I swear you’ll hang by your balls, you don’t know who you’re messing with –”

  Had she ordered me in that particular tone to slit my throat, I’d happily obey while saluting her eminence. Yet, these boys obviously didn’t quite understand the importance a bitchy princess had on one’s immediate future. They ignored her threats as easily as they’d ignore the snarls of a chained hound, and straightened their spines. A lone rider emerged from the trees, a dark shadow against the sun’s blinding rays.

  “If you don’t release us,” Iyumi gritted, her silver hair flooding her shoulders. “I’ll make each of you wish your mothers aborted you.”

  Burly strength lifted me to my feet, gasping, my ribs on fire, my nose broken. I blinked stinging blood from my eyes, and tried to inhale a semi-full breath. The world ceased its wild rotation and steadied. I’d no strength to fight, my powers broken, but I could see at least. And catch a small breath, now and then.

  A single figure dismounted a tall horse, silhouetted by the sun. He walked toward me, for I recognized a male anyway, his grey horse following at his shoulder. Only when the shadows from the trees shrouded him from head to boots, did I catch my short breath inside my agonized ribs.

  I froze, instantly recognizing him. The grand master of this violent charade, the reason these men failed to acknowledge Iyumi’s authority and dared seize her royal person. I immediately understood everything. They didn’t fear her, or her royal sire. They owed their loyalty to one man, this single man, the one who walked where angels feared to tread. Gods, no, you can’t be this cruel –

  His malicious grin hadn’t changed a jot. The scar on his cheek bloomed pink and purple, dark bruising still clear under his skin. You should’ve healed better, I thought, my mind frazzled. Storm Cloud’s talon scarred him for life, marked him forever as traitor and oath-breaker – a sign for all to shun him on sight.

  “Greetings, cuz.”

  My frazzled brain recalled in a flash Ze’ana’ta’s words: ‘bad men spy’. I assumed, like a fool, she meant Flynn and his jewel. She didn’t know Flynn watched us from afar, for a Faery’s magic wasn’t strong. She and her sisters knew Iyumi and I were stalked by ‘bad men’ much closer than Flynn and his cronies. Cursing myself for a bleeding idiot wouldn’t help matters, but I did so anyway. Had I given a moment’s thought to the Faery’s warning, I’d have set a trap of my own instead of blundering into one.

  My bloodied spit struck the soil between his boots. “Ditto.”

  Cian’s toothy grin widened. “Now that’s not a fair greeting for your kin, Van, is it? For shame. Your manners have deteriorated alarmingly.”

  “As have yours. Since when have you added kidnapping the royal heir to your resume?”

  “Excuse me?” Cian’s dark eyes widened in feigned surprise. “Kidnap? Our beloved royal heir? Oh, no, Van, you misunderstand my intentions. I merely seek to keep her safe from your madness. I’m a soldier, not a scoundrel.”

  “Misunderstand this, shithead –”

  Unable to do more than kick dirt toward Cian, Iyumi struggled in the arms of her captor, her fluent expletives nasty enough to force a bewildered blink from Cian and a swift, confused eye exchange from the men holding her fast. I almost heard their thoughts – where does a princess learn such language?

  “You dare lay hands on her, Clansman,” I snapped. “Treason, in its highest form. When did you find the guts?”

  “When your blunder cost her her life.”

  “I didn’t kill Zeani.”

  “Oh, but your ego did. Your new promotion and selfish ambition set the stage for her death. And your own of course, dear cousin.”

  “You’re mad.”

  Cian’s expression turned injured. His eyes widened in feigned outrage for my insult, his lips thinned and ironic. “I’m not mad, Vanyar. Consider me impulsively artistic and vengefully ambitious. Yet, forever and always within my right mind.”

  “Corporal Zeani died serving her King and her country,” I grated, trying not to ignominiously snort my own blood. “An Raithin Mawrn terrorist killed her. It could happen to any of us, you know that.”

  “You should have died, too,” Cian said softly, his eyes flat. “But you lived and Zeani burned. So, you’ll burn as she burned.”

  I jerked my head at Iyumi. “What of Her Highness, Cian? You put the manacles on the heir to the throne and She Who Hears. You dare the wrath of the King and the gods? You did it because you knew she’d drop you in your tracks. But outside of her anger, you’ve incurred the wrath of those who speak through her.”

  His eyes widened. “I mean Her Royal Highness no harm, Van,” he said. “Never. I merely temporarily restrain her to keep her from danger as you and I resolve our differences. After that, my lads will see her home to Caer Brannog.”

  “Your lads?” I asked. “Not you?”

  Cian opened his mouth to answer, but Iyumi’s shrill screech of rage cut him off. Along with the colorful invectives that spewed from her lips, Iyumi threatened them all with every execution known to man or beast. “By all the gods, I swear I’ll tie your balls to an oxcart and crack the whip if you don’t let him go,” she screamed, the baby wailing in her arms. “I’ll skin your hides from your bones and post your craven heads from the tallest tower. Let him go, you sick bastards. Let him effing go!”

  By Cian’s outraged expression, I knew his control came near to slipping. Under the lash of Iyumi’s threats, he might just forget his promise and set her, and the baby, afire alongside me. I had to stop her. I must convince her to submit, to yield. A battle lost didn’t necessarily mean the war was. If she relented, just this once, she might survive to save our land. She had to get that baby home, to safety.

  Whatever the cost to me.

  Hoping, praying, the pewter collar around my neck didn’t preclude my mental abilities, I summoned all my thought, all my will. Using our previous telepathy and the bond we shared, I cast out and down my inner voice, those swift images from inside my thick skull. Out and out they flew, on wings of love, to slam into Iyumi’s brain.

  “Don’t fight, girl,” I sent her, my eyes boring into hers. “Save yourself, and that baby. I’m lost, but you aren’t. Go home. That child needs you more than me. Avenge me when you come into your own.”

  She staggered a
little under their impact, her guards catching her weight as they glanced at one another in worry. Was she ill? What did we do wrong? Their hands held her upright, on her boots, even as she sagged in their hands. Limp, breathing hard, her eyes rolled back in her head as they snapped fingers in front of her nose. “Princess? You awake?” “Dammit, don’t do this.”

  She heard me. “Vanyar?”

  “It’s all good, my dearest love. For I do love you beyond all life, all hope. I always have. I fell in love with you the moment I laid my eyes upon you.”

  “And I you. From day one, I loved you, waited for you to notice me, to find me. I love you, Van, and always will.”

  “We’ll be together. One day. For now, be safe, be well. I’ll look in on you, when I can. Take care of Junior, all right?”

  I caught Iyumi’s half-nod as her rage slowly subsided. Her guards didn’t relax despite her bowed head and rolled shoulders exhibiting her obvious submission. Ready to pounce, they eyed her with suspicion and annoyance. She buried her face in the troll’s wraps, yet her faint voice filled my head.

  “I will, Van. I promise.”

  “I love you, my beautiful lady.”

  I never gave her a chance to respond. If I didn’t cut her off now, I’d never have the guts again. She must, and her burden, be free of me from this day onward. Only then might Bryn’Cairdha be safe from outside enemies. If she, and it, weren’t, I’d go to my death broken in spirit, a shell of what I once was. I cut my eyes from hers, and closed my mind to her reply. By the way she hung her head, her chin holding the baby troll close under her neck, she knew, very well, what I’d done and why I did it.

  “You’ll let her go?” I asked Cian, my voice hoarse.

  “Of course.” Cian frowned. “She’ll be safely escorted to Roidan’s castle in Caer Brannog. My quarrel isn’t with her or her mission. Only with you.”

  I tossed my chin at the men closely guarding her, their eyes on me. “Sergeant Yestin. Corporal Drust. You have a quarrel with me, as well? How about you lads?”

  I glanced to the men standing me on my feet. “Sergeants Tris, Kado, and Broc. Corporal Zorn. Until today, we’ve never shared a cross word. Yet, you raise your hands to a superior officer. As you are no doubt aware, that’s treason in its highest form. Are you willing to pay its price – for him?”

  Broc and Drust exchanged uneasy glances while Yestin, Kado and Tris merely stared at me, expressionless. Zorn watched Iyumi, not bothering to listen to me. I half-wondered if they’d been given pe’ederon, a mind-altering potion that permits the user to suggest courses of actions the victim would never ordinarily do. As I peered closer, I saw little of the tell-tale signs, like the blue-ish ring around the whites of their eyes. They believed in Cian, and his mission, and no amount of me squawking the obvious helped matters.

  “The Lieutenant is right to seek his vengeance,” Yestin said, his tone cold. “You’re the traitor. You’ll be executed forthwith and the sooner the better.”

  “These lads owe me their loyalty,” Cian said, dropping his hand heavily to Yestin’s shoulder in rough affection. “They’ve spurned the laws of an unjust regime.”

  “Traitors,” Iyumi hissed. “I swear by the gods you’ll all hang.”

  Cian eyed her sidelong and shrugged, unconcerned. “Since when is the execution of a murderer treason, Your Highness? I’m merely acting in the King’s good interest here.”

  “In the King’s name –”

  “Then tell your lads to take her away,” I said, interrupting her with a swift glance of warning. “She doesn’t need to be a part of this.”

  “I’ll send her when I’m ready,” Cian snapped, his control slipping. “You’ve no say here, Van.”

  “Lieutenant,” said Corporal Drust, his eyes fastened on the slope behind me. “Someone’s coming.”

  “Dammit.” Cian fumed, turning around. “Who is it?”

  Behind the cave, from the valley below, the snorting of horses and the clop of hooves against stone heralded the approach of several riders. Cian cursed under his breath as Drust whipped his sword from its sheath. I craned my neck over my injured shoulder, past Kado, to the slope I carried Iyumi up only hours before. I cocked my head, listening. Four, no, five horses approached from beyond the trees. Watching, hoping for the best but fearing the worst, I held my breath.

  Grey ears emerged first, then the sleek head of a dappled horse broke over the hill. Two horses flanked the big grey as two more followed on his tail, all trotting in step with their leader.

  Gods help us all, I thought, as Flynn reined in his Bayonne and leaned his arm on his pommel.

  CHAPTER 12

  Child of Destiny

  Hell’s teeth, I thought, stunned.

  The amber crystal showed me Van and Iyumi entering the cavern. Thinking to trap them inside, I willed myself and my comrades to the base of the mountain, expecting to demand their immediate surrender. I knew Van would willingly die for Iyumi, to prevent me from taking her, and the child, captive. I fully expected to kill him, in order to seize what was mine by right.

  In a million years, I never expected to find the pair of them already captured, prisoners of seven brutish men.

  “Who the hell’re you?” demanded the tall, red-haired fellow with the half-healed dagger slash from his left eye to his mouth.

  I suspected him the leader, as the others, outside Van and Yummy, glanced from me to him and back. A coward, I thought, seizing up the feigned arrogance, the brazen I-can-kill-you-with-a-mean-look attitude I so often found among my father’s guards. I hated him on sight. Though his hand tickled his sword’s hilt, I was neither intimidated nor worried. I could, and might, flatten him with a thought. From the older, dark scars upon his cheekbones, I knew he was a Shape-Shifter. A member of Van’s own Clan, I judged, by a rapid comparison.

  The others stiffened their spines, their hands readying weapons. Iyumi glared at me as she cuddled a small ragged bundle close to her bosom. Though his sunken cheeks informed me he was in great pain, Van eyed me with anger and fear flashing from his emerald green eyes. He knew why I was there. He knew very well. An oddly colored collar of metal encircled his neck. Hmmm. That same metal shaped the cuffs of Iyumi’s wrists.

  I snapped my fingers. Boden and Buck-Eye unsheathed swords at the same time Torass and Lyall flanked the Shifter’s men, bow-strings creaking in the mountain stillness. My four to his six. And they had prisoners to babysit. Van’s hands were obviously bound behind his back, and he appeared desperate, powerless even. Why hadn’t he scattered these yokels’ ashes upon the wind? Why didn’t he change into a fearsome Minotaur and kick some ass?

  I eyed Iyumi, knowing she, too, held magical powers. If Yummy joined the fight, I’d no idea which side she’d attack. Mine or his, we were both probably targets for royal ire. Why hadn’t she called upon her gods to send these morons straight into hell? Something’s wrong, I thought. With their considerable powers, neither of them should be held captive by these imbeciles.

  In the midst of the tense silence, Dra’agor loped to catch up. His sudden presence into the mix added no end of unease amongst the soldiers who had captured Van and Yummy. Not a one of them didn’t take a step back, dragging their prisoners with them. The Shifter leader hesitated, his will flagging, as he raised his hand to make the sign against strong magic.

  “I’m Flynn,” I replied, sitting back in my saddle. “I have no quarrel with you, boy.”

  His eyes sparked and his lips thinned. “Flynn? What Flynn?”

  “Meet His Royal Highness Prince Flynn,” Vanyar said, his tone insulting, cold, “of Raithin Mawr. You do remember our ancient enemies who want to destroy our lands, don’t you, Cian?”

  “Shut up, Van,” Cian snapped. “Of course, I know who he is.”

  “Good. I thought I needed to teach you a history lesson.”

  I fought back a grin before it emerged. That Vanyar had guts. Tied and collared like a sacrificial goat and he still had sass.

  �
��What are you doing here, Prince?” Cian demanded. “This isn’t your turf.”

  I jerked my head toward Princess Yummy and the mystery child she held. “All I want is them.”

  Cian glanced from the princess to me, back to her, again toward me before finally staring at Iyumi in bafflement. “The princess? Why?”

  I exchanged a rapid, there-and-gone eye-roll with Buck-Eye, stilling my tongue against laughter. Sincerely, this boy had no clue

  “To complete the prophecy, you ass,” Van shouted, lunging against his captors. “You can’t let him take her, Cian!”

  Despite his obvious injuries, he fought, cursing, straining against those that held him. One smacked a cudgel upside his head as the other two struggled to hold him fast. Van drooped, bleeding down his temple to his chin, his eyes glazed. I shut my teeth on a sharp retort and demand they leave him alone. Bloody cowards.

  “Oh, that.”

  Cian relaxed, shrugging, a half-smile crossing his thick lips. “Take her. She’s my gift to you, Prince Flynn. I don’t care.”

  “Cian.”

  Her voice, as menacing as the shiver of a sword drawn in the shadows, spoke that single name. Dra’agor growled, his lips skinned back from his fangs at the menace within that quiet word. The hairs on the back of my neck stood up straight at the same instant her guards shrank from her. Cian seemed to not notice the venom with which she spoke, yet even Van found enough energy to lift his bloody face toward her. He didn’t speak, but the anguish that rose in his eyes made my heart quake within my chest.

  That boy loves her, I thought. Beyond all life and hope of salvation. And she loves him just as deeply. She didn’t fight for herself. She fought for the kid and him, both. Like a she-wolf, she fought for her mate and her cub, and only death might break her spirit.