Order Of The Dragon (Omnibus 1-4)
Page 66
The piercing cry of an infant shocked her out of her thoughts. The memory of the pain slipped from her like sand between pinched fingers. Jennaca was crying. No, not crying; her daughter was sobbing. Jethallin lurched to her feet and started to run when her ankle was jerked back by the rope that bound her to a rock wall.
She hit the ground with a thud that knocked the air from her chest. Sand stung her cheeks but she ignored it. "Jennaca!" she cried out. "Momma's over here, baby. It's okay!"
The crying stopped for part of a second, and then it renewed. The shadows morphed and parted as Dugal hurried through the ruins and thrust the bundle of clothing that held the shrieking baby in them towards her. "Make her stop or I'll use her to bait the sand claws!"
Jethallin struggled up to her knees and reached out for the baby. She took her and hugged her close, slipping her under her robes to let her feel her warmth and smell her skin. Her sobs and wails were muffled by the rags until Jethallin was able to place the infant's mouth next to her breast. In moments, she took to it and suckled. Her cries turned to murmurs of contentment.
"She just needed her momma," Jethallin said. "Why did you take her?"
Dugal snorted. "You said she was a princess." He turned and snorted before spitting on the ground. He twitched his nose and then reached up to dig with a dirty finger up one nostril. He stared at the end of it in the moonlight and then rubbed it on his pants. "I expected better from a princess. Don't they grow up knowing not to act like that?"
"She will," Jethallin lied. "But I must teach her, just like any young woman must be taught."
He ran his tongue over his teeth. "Is that right? A woman can be taught?"
"Yes," she said, bowing her head. "A woman needs a firm man to guide her."
"Firm?" he chuckled. "I can be firm. I can be downright hard."
Jethallin lowered her head so he wouldn't see the shame on her cheeks. "I'm sure you can," she mumbled. She'd been a thief, a beggar, and occasionally a whore in Mira. She'd done it to survive and to try to find a way off the streets. Then Jennaca had come along and everything changed. It changed so much that it had stayed the same. At least what she could do had stayed the same. Her goals changed. She wasn't struggling for herself anymore; she was doing it for her daughter.
And now she was being trained to fight by a man trapped in a ring while she was tied to a crumbling wall in the desert. He took Jennaca from her at night so she didn't untie herself and try to escape, but she could tell that he was growing tired of it. Her lie that she was the servant mistress of the recently murdered Lord Badawi wouldn't hold off his temper much longer.
She hoped acting meek and open to his advances might buy her more time. A day or two to heal her blistered feet and figure out a way to escape. She'd learned much from Snake-Killer, but he'd taken her daggers from her. She had nothing but her body to use, and the only way she knew to use it against a man was in bed.
Jethallin's eyes widened, prompting her to lower her gaze even more. Why hadn't she thought of it before? Dugal was a man. A scoundrel and half-crazed, to be sure, but he still had a man's wants and needs. And she was a woman. A young and firm woman, at that. He hadn't touched her yet but his eyes had shown interest. He'd hinted at how he expected to be treated too, yet he hadn't forced himself on her.
She fought to keep the glimmer of a smile from showing on her lips as an idea came to mind. She put more thought to her plan while Jennaca suckled at her. Soon her baby let out a contended sigh and pushed away just enough to let her know she had finished. She wrapped her tiny arms about herself and let loose a tiny burp before closing her eyes and falling asleep.
Jethallin looked up and gasped. Dugal had disappeared. She searched the shadows of the ruins around her but the man had disappeared. He'd disappeared and he'd done so without Jennaca. Was he stupid enough to trust her? Or was there more to it she didn't understand? She cast her worries aside and shifted into a cross-legged position so she could pick at the knot around her ankle. He'd tied it well, proving he had the skill of a seasoned sailor with knots. She tugged and worked at it, trying to loosen the thick fibers but making slow progress.
She pulled and twisted until her fingers were raw but the knots still held. For all the hours of training she endured with Snake-Killer in his magical realm, it did nothing to toughen her body or her skin. It was all in her mind, but she'd already learned her arms didn't move as fast in the real world as they did in her dreams.
She turned and checked on Jennaca. She slept in her bundle of rags wedged up against a broken rock. Jethallin smiled sadly and was about to turn away when she heard something scuffle in the darkness. It was a whisper of a noise, so faint she thought she imagined it. It was her imagination that kept her looking and her imagination that made her think of claws scraping across rock.
The shadows moved on their own, forcing a sharp hiss of Jethallin's breath. She shifted and twisted around, grabbing the rope and moving to put herself between Jennaca and the emerging darkness. Twin pinpricks of reflected silver gleamed out of the shadows at her.
Jethallin's eyes scoured the ground for some sort of weapon. Even the rocks were too large for her to use. Dugal had kicked all the smaller stones away so she couldn't use them. She had to admit that after seeing how Snake-Killer used a chipped stone blade on his spear that it was a smart move. Now it meant she had nothing to defend herself and Jennaca with. Nothing except her sore hands and feet, and those would be useless against the hard shell of the enormous scorpion-like creatures called sand claws.
The creature moved again, coming closer. Jethallin bared her teeth and clenched her fists. She wouldn't let it get her or her daughter. She saw whiskers in the moonlight as it neared the edge of the shadows, and then dark brown fur and a black nose. Was it one of the wild dogs thinking it could be off with her daughter?
The creature slunk forward and moved across from her to stay next to the same wall she was tied to. She shifted back as it revealed itself in the moonlight and stared in awe. It wasn't a giant scorpion or a wild dog. It was a rat. A rat the size of a hound, but still a rat. It reminded her of that troll that had scared her so badly she'd wet herself.
Her eyes dug into the shadows. Were there more of them? Rats traveled in numbers, didn't they? Thork, the troll, had hundreds with him when he walked through Mira as though he owned the city. Was this one of his rats or something else?
The rat stopped when it reached her rope. It sniffed the rope and turned to look at her. Its whiskers twitched in the air and then it turned back to the rope. She gasped when the rat opened its mouth and bit down on the rope. Then it pulled its body in tighter and settled in to start chewing on the rope.
Jethallin stared at the rat while it worked, not daring to believe her eyes. Was it really freeing her? She was being rescued? By a rat? Thork had to be somewhere. Namitus, Mordrim, and even the old man, Kar, had claimed the troll was an ally. She looked around again but saw nothing.
She heard a shuffle and looked back at the rat. The creature, a male she realized, was sitting on its haunches with its forelimbs up in the air. It stared at her and pawed the air, and then turned and looked into the darkness from where it had come from. She followed the rope from her ankle to the wall and saw the gnawed-off end of the rope. She was free! A quick glance at the rat made her wonder, did it expect her to follow it?
Jethallin picked up her daughter as carefully as she could. The last thing she needed was to wake her up. She scooped up the rope in her other hand and looped it around her arm to keep it from dragging. She had half a dozen feet of length to it, enough to be inconvenient but not enough to be useful. With Jennaca tucked against her, she turned to leave when she realized she had nothing. She had her daughter, but she didn't have her knives. They might have been a pitiful defense but even that was better than none at all. Not to mention she didn't know where Dugal was at. He could be watching her while she fretted over what to do.
The rat squeaked, a tiny noise in the darkness.
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Jethallin turned and glared at it. "Not yet!" she hissed at it. It occurred to her that she was berating a rat as she spoke. "I need my—oh saints, I must be mad."
She turned away from the rat and used her years of training as a thief and beggar in the streets of Mira to move quietly through the ruins. She wasn't certain where Dugal kept his stash but she had an idea from where he came and went all the time. She moved through the broken walls and only stopped once, when she felt something tugging on her pants. She looked down and saw the rat had bitten her pants and was pulling back on them like a dog.
Jethallin stopped and peered into the rubble of a building she'd been about to enter. She frowned and then sniffed. There was an odor, she realized. A musk. She frowned and peered into the dark interior, hoping to spy the source of it. She gave up after a moment and backed up a step. The rat let go of her trousers, allowing her to walk around the building.
After she searched through more of the ruins, she realized they were larger than she'd imagined. She came upon the wall of a building that was tilted over, but sand that had blown in over the years supported it. Around the corner of the building the sand had blown up, creating a ramp to the upper level. There were more walls on the top of the building, indicating a second story.
She was about to go around when she noticed the uneven marks in the sand that led up to the second story. Her frown turned to a smile; the marks were fresh footprints after the sandstorm they'd had yesterday. She'd found him.
Jethallin looked around and then frowned anew. If she was going to face Dugal, she couldn't do it with Jennaca. The mother knelt down and dug a small valley in the sand and then placed her bundled daughter in it. She turned and glared at the rat without realizing how unusual it was that the rat met and kept eye contact with her. She slowly shook her head once and then rose up. The rat glanced at Jennaca and sniffed, his whiskers twitching in the moonlight, and then he followed Jethallin as she made her way up the slope.
Jethallin crouched and moved slowly, using her fingers in the sand for extra purchase as well as to keep herself as low as possible. She studied the room as it was revealed to her and noted the walls that were still standing and even a few areas where the roof was mostly intact. She imagined Dugal would be there, in the most covered area.
She crept into the room and took care to avoid the rocks that seemed scattered by the wind. She knew better; it was an old trick that would warn a person when someone was coming close to them. The rocks would scrape across the ground, making noise and identifying exactly where the mark was. She'd used it herself to cut a few purses.
She stepped past the rocks and continued into the upper room. She stepped through one wall and was about to go farther when she heard the soft susurrus of someone snoring. Dugal wasn't loud enough to be heard outside the building, but in here and out of the wind, she knew he was close by.
She froze until she was certain his rhythm was unchanged. Then she leaned over and peered deeper into the room. There was a doorway with half of it not only missing but fallen into the blackness of the room below. Through that was a room covered by a section of roof. It was too dark to see into.
Jethallin clenched her fists and looked around. There were rocks here. She knelt to pick one up and squeezed it in her hand. It would make a poor club but she had little choice. Now she just had to cross the room and sneak up on him. Then find him in the darkness and strike him hard enough to keep him from waking up and stopping her while she took her things back.
She froze when she saw her boots sitting on the floor in a corner. He'd taken them to make sure she didn't try to get away. Her blisters were healing but the sand was too hot to risk walking without them. By the time she shook the thoughts of reclaiming her boots aside, she noticed the rat was already halfway across the room.
He paused and looked at her, and then continued.
Jethallin stifled a frustrated cry and moved as quickly as she could to overtake the rodent. He moved too quickly and slipped into the dark room while she was picking her way along the wall and avoiding some areas of the floor that seemed either too exposed or unstable. She edged along the wall and heard a snort and a cry of terror, followed by a squeal.
The rat bolted out of the room and ran across the floor. Within seconds, Dugal followed, a worn and rusty sword brandished in his hand. She acted without letting her mind slow her down, throwing the rock and then taking the rope in both hands.
Dugal cried out as the rock bounced off his head and dropped him to the floor. The sword clattered away from him and he shook his head. By the time he started to rise up, Jethallin crashed into his back and drove him back down. The air exploded from his mouth and coughed up a plume of dust and sand. She wrapped the rope around his neck and held it tightly while he struggled to lift himself up or swat at her with his hands. Her knee in his back kept him on the ground until he slumped forward and his head landed with a dull thud on the rocky floor.
"I did it!" Jethallin grinned. "I did it!" she shouted. The rat squeaked, reminding her not to bring attention to herself. Her eyes grew wide when she heard the cry of a baby just outside the ruined building she was in. Her smile vanished as she spun and cried out, "Jennaca!"
Chapter 2
"You can't just barge in on the queen! She is conducting important affairs of court."
Aleena glanced at the paladin beside her, Sir Celos Lyonsbane, and then turned back to the once rugged man who now served as Queen Rosalyn's seneschal. "Ketten, she must be told what her armies are doing. What Graak is letting them get away with!"
Ketten glanced behind the two paladins and then said in a soft voice, "She knows."
Once Aleena was able to close her lips, she turned to see Celos, her one-time mentor, frowning. She snapped her head back to Ketten. "How? We came straight here!"
He shrugged. "She is a witch. Perhaps she has eyes in the sky and the ground. Perhaps the wind whispered it to her. I don't know. I just do as I'm told and so should you if you wish to stay welcome here."
"Is that a threat?" Aleena growled.
"Aleena." Celos spoke and placed his hand on her arm. "Talk with me a moment."
Aleena cast a final withering glare at Ketten and then turned away. Celos ignored her and walked down the passage until they had a chance to turn down another of the caves that Queen Rosalyn still used as her palace. They emerged on a shelf of rock on the side of the mountain that overlooked Dragonfall, the city that was being constructed as the capital of Queen Rosalyn's realm in the Northern Divide.
"Do not tell me I am in the wrong," Aleena began as soon as they were safely outside the tunnels and out of earshot.
"You've said it yourself," Celos reminded her. "Many times, in fact. These are not our people. They do not have the same code that we do."
"Rosalyn is a woman. A human woman. Witch or not, she must not abide such brutality! Graak's ogres are slaughtering the elves in the forest! Slaughtering and worse! You saw the girl I spared from being raped!"
Celos nodded.
"And you can let this go?"
"Our role is as ambassadors—"
"Yes!" Aleena snapped. "Ambassadors of Saint Leander."
Celos pursed his lips and tilted his head just enough to let his eyes silence her. "You rose quickly through the ranks. That and you are the first woman to do so in hundreds of years. Some of your teaching may have been lax because of it."
"So lax that I missed the part where villainy was acceptable behavior?"
"No." Celos silenced her with the barked word. "Lax in regard to how history is written by those who are victorious."
Aleena refused to back down. One time she might have, when she was Sir Celos's squire, but now they were both paladins of equal standing in the eyes of the church. "What's that supposed to mean?"
"A lot of things happen when armies march. War brings out the worst in men. Even those fighting for the right side."
Aleena's eyes narrowed. "And each side thinks they're right."
"You're saying that the victors see the losers as being less than they are. And if they aren't important, then what happens to them isn't important. If they can be injured or killed on a field of battle, then they can have their homes burnt and their possessions stolen. Their women raped and their children taken as slaves?"
"Well, I don't know about that," Celos grumbled.
Aleena waved it away. "No, I see it now. What better way to break the spirit and culture of a people than to have the first generation of children born with mixed blood? Their parents will doubt them and feel shamed. They will stay silent and do as they're told. The men are cuckolded and the women disgraced. Their wealth has already been taken and found its way to the coffers of the conquerors, leaving them with nothing except the knowledge that they failed."
Celos stared at her as she went on and offered a curt nod when she finished. "I think you explained it better than a dozen scholars might."
Aleena swiped her tongue across her teeth and spat off the rocky ledge. Celos's eyes widened. "I should wash my own mouth with lye for the filth I just spoke," Aleena said. She held up a hand to stop Celos from speaking. "I believe this was done in the past. I have seen it done now, in the present. None of that makes it right."
Celos nodded. "I agree, but men will be men."
Aleena raised her chin and stared at him. "Would you do such a thing?"
"Never!" He responded without hesitation.
She nodded. "I believe you. I know other men who would answer the same. If there are men out there who do not feel the same and wish to be a part of that which is right, holy, and good, then they must hold the same beliefs."
"How would you do this?"