Chronicles Of Aronshae (3 Book Omnibus)

by J. K. Barber

  Katya turned to Jared. “She’s alive,” the young sorceress reported, hearing the relief in her own voice. “She must have passed out from the pain.” The woodsman still did not relax. His eyes were still wide with worry and shock. Katya placed a hand on Jared’s shoulder. “She’s going to be fine,” Katya reassured him. “I promise.” She hated to lie to him, but she needed Jared to release Sasha’s body if she was going to have any chance of saving her sister.

  Jared’s arms slumped and his face fell, a great weight lifted from his shoulders, as he handed the wounded swordswoman into her sister’s care. Katya placed her hands on Sasha’s burns and the red haired swordswoman flinched but did not wake; a tiny unconscious whimper of pain escaped her lips. Katya closed her eyes in concentration.

  Hoping that Katya would be able to deliver on her promise to save her twin, Jared turned his attention to their surroundings. Mala was standing over the young people, a pair of crude swords in her hands, swords she put to good use as one of the blue-skinned orcs rushed her. Ducking under the creature’s wild swing Mala slashed her opponent across the thigh with her left sword, turning the follow-through into a spin that placed her back to the orc. Reversing the sword in her right hand, Mala thrust the point of her blade into her adversary’s stomach and drove it further up into his rib cage. Pulling her sword free, the swordmistress stepped away from the orc, turning to face him as she did. A look of shock hung on the creature’s ugly face for just a moment before Mala kicked him in the chest, sending him sprawling onto his back. The orc breathed a pair of ragged breaths and then lay still.

  Jared nodded to the older woman, a gesture that was returned, before he looked around the orc camp. The hunter did not know what to expect, but what he saw surprised him. There were perhaps two score tents, made of animal skins, arranged haphazardly around a central fire pit. None of the tents were permanent structures. They were designed and built to be able to be taken down, moved and put back up with a minimal amount of time and effort. Beside the fire, he saw the bones and drying skins of half a dozen beasts; what kind the hunter did not know, their original forms lost and distorted by the skinning and cleaning process. Also, to his amazement, Jared saw a handful of females, fleeing or fighting as their nature dictated. He even saw two or three orc children, clinging to the leg of a parent, starring dumbfounded or diving back into a tent to hide. This was a hunter’s camp, meant to follow herds of animals and bring back the fruits of its labor to a larger encampment.

  Now, however, it was a slaughterhouse of a different kind. Everywhere, snow white animals of all shapes and sizes were fighting the blue-skinned creatures, and winning. Already, the remaining orcs were beginning to flee the battle, apparently realizing they could not defeat the myriad of animals arrayed against them. The hunter saw ice bears, wolves, owls, hawks, leopards, foxes and half a dozen more breeds of animal attacking the orcs in what seemed to be a coordinated attack. Half of the orcs’ tents had been knocked down or crushed in the animals’ assault. Beneath the skins of some of the tents, figures struggled to extricate themselves from their ruined abodes. Occasionally, a large bear or an enormous caribou would pummel whoever was struggling beneath a collapsed tent, using their paw or hoof to beat the trapped orc into unconsciousness or worse. After a satisfied moment, the animal would then move on, seeing more prey to vanquish.

  Confused, Jared was considering trying to contact the animals, to find out to whom they owed their lives. However, as the hunter looked around the camp, looking for an animal not actively engaged in killing an orc, a familiar scarred face ran across his vision.

  Jared was on his feet in an instant, hauling on the chains still attached to his wrists and slinging the length of blackened post into his hands as he ran through the now bloody mixture of mud and snow. The scarred orc did not see Jared as the woodsman rounded one of the animal skin tents, as intent on him as the azure-skinned creature was on escaping the animal swarm that was killing his brethren.

  Renewed rage fueling his tired arms, Jared took a step forward, pivoted on the muddy ground, spun on the balls of his feet and performed a full rotation. As he did so the hunter let the log slip out of his hands but held tightly to the chains tethered to his wrists. The charred length of wood swung around in a full circle, impacting the fleeing orc’s legs with such force that Jared’s former tormentor was knocked from his feet and flopped helplessly onto his stomach on the snow covered ground.

  Gathering up one of the chains, Jared looped the metal around the scar-faced orc’s thick neck. Placing one of his feet between the creature’s shoulder blades and grabbing the chain with both hands, the hunter pulled with all the strength he had left in his broken and abused body. It wasn’t until several moments after the orc stopped his ragged gasping for breath that Jared released the chains.

  Looking up, Jared saw two sets of eyes staring at him, wide with fear from inside one of the tents. An orc female, kneeling beside a small orc boy, quickly grabbed the youth up in her arms, raising a small sword before her. The female gestured towards the hunter and the dead orc at his feet, speaking in the guttural orcish tongue. Jared raised his hands in the air and stepped back, dragging his chains from around the throat of the dead orc as he did. The dead orc’s head fell forward into the snow as the last link of chain slithered from around his neck and Jared saw the orc female wince. The small orc boy began wailing, turning to hide his face in the orc woman’s chest. The hunter looked around, noticing for the first time the direction in which the orc he had killed had been running. The scar-faced beast hadn’t been running away from the attacking animals. He had been running to this tent. This orc and her child had been his mate and his son.

  Jared tried to speak, but his effort was in vain. Now that she had enough room, the female orc stepped outside the tent, turned and ran quickly away, her thick legs pounding through the snow as she fled from the hunter as fast as she could across the frozen wastes and away from camp carrying her crying son on her shoulder.

  Jared looked down at his dead tormentor, all rage now drained from his body, and plodded tiredly back to Katya, Sasha and Mala.

  To the woodsman’s surprise, a small winged man, no taller than a blade of grass was standing on Mala’s shoulder, trying to extricate himself from the ardent hugging of a young winged woman of similar stature. As Jared approached, the tiny Nhyme man’s grin grew even wider.

  “Where did you go?” Niko asked, gesturing at the carnage around him. Astonishingly, a pair of wolves that had been standing near the fire pit, keeping guard, stood up on their hind legs and began to grow taller. The wolves’ white fur disappeared beneath tanned skin, their long snouts retracted revealing human faces. In the span of a couple of breaths, where once a pair of wolves had stood, now stood two humans, naked as the day they were born and seemingly unconcerned about who saw them.

  Feeling his face flush, Jared turned his attention back to Niko. “What?” he asked.

  “I said,” the tiny Nhyme man replied. “Where have you been? You missed all the fun.”

  Jared sighed heavily and walked over to the twins, his shoulders slumping with exhaustion and worry over Sasha. Katya still had her eyes closed and her gently glowing hands pressed to her sister’s ruined flesh. Sasha’s breathing had relaxed somewhat, but her wounds still looked severe. Jared leaned over and retrieved a ring of keys from one of the orc’s bodies by the fire pit. The hunter tossed it to Mala. With a dexterity that belied her fatigue, the steel-haired swordmistress managed to catch the keys without dropping her swords.

  “Free your men,” Jared said to Mala, nodding towards the tent they had recently escaped.

  “Oh,” Niko exclaimed, turning to Chyla. “That’s our cue,” and the pair of Nhyme quickly changed into a pair of black ravens, hopping from Mala’s shoulder and alighting on Katya’s. The sorceress did not notice their arrival, her full attention on her sister.

  Mala disappeared into the tent containing her men. Slowly, one by one, the eleven remaining sold
iers stepped out into the sunlight, squinting against the brightness. As their vision adjusted, their eyes opened wider at the scene. More than a hundred orcs lay dead, dying or fleeing and in their place stood twice that number of white furred animals and a handful of unclothed humans, watching the Illyanders.

  Jared knelt next to Katya. Sasha was still not awake, but the worst of her burns were slowly healing. No longer could he see the bone of her ribs through her blackened flesh. Instead, disfigured red skin covered Sasha’s side and back. Jared placed a hand on Katya’s back, silently lending her support. To the hunter’s surprise, the young black-haired woman fell backwards into his arms, unconscious.

  Chapter 12

  Jared crept under the heavy tent flap made from bear hide, letting it fall back into place behind him. The small tent was round in shape and with enough room for a double pallet. Illuminated only by the faint light of a candle about to burn out, a figure laid on its side, its back to him, covered in layers of white furs. Jared pulled a fresh candle from his pouch and went to the hollowed out rock being used as a holder, squatting down next to the simple bed. The hour was late, and after checking on his friend he wanted to get back to his own resting place in the therianthrope village. The woodsman’s time in captivity had worn on him more than he admitted to his friends, and he was still exhausted from the whole series of horrific events. On top of that, his head throbbed from the bruise still around his eye. Chyla hadn’t been able to heal him completely, mending the worst of the wounds he and his friends had taken first. The last time he had seen the small Nhyme woman she had drained a good eighth of a water skin by herself and eaten a very large piece of cheese before curling into a ball in Katya’s hood to pass out. Niko had helped with the healing, but he just wasn’t as adept at it as Chyla; the little man grew weary more quickly than his companion. Jared sat down on the hide-covered floor in front of the holder, lighting the fresh candle wick off the near expended older one. The woodsman blew out the dwindling luminary and set it on the side of the holder. A bowl of soup lay next to the pallet, only half-drained of its contents. The figure became clearer in the renewed light, the curve of a hip dipping down to a small feminine waist.

  Jared’s breath caught. The furs had slipped off and the sight of soft feminine flesh in the candlelight was stunning. A tattooed blue dragon’s tail originating from further down on the right side, looped up and around her left hip intimately. Jared had seen Sasha’s tattoo before, soon after they first met when he walked in on her rising from a bath, but now he saw the extent of its exquisite detail. Each scale had been inked meticulously one by one, the artist’s talent surely a blessing from the Great Mother herself. His eyes were drawn to the skin on her left side that was reddish pink like it had been sunburned. Jared’s memory of Sasha’s savage burns almost ruined the moment for him. Chyla, as usual, had outdone herself healing the swordswoman. The Nhyme had to do extensive internal mending to Sasha’s organs that had been partially cooked, in addition to smoothing the burn scars away from the swordwoman’s skin. The red-headed woman rested now in a deep sleep, her chest rising and falling as her mind caught up with the healing her body had received. One could be healed fully by Nhyme magic but still the mind would retain the memory and need time to recuperate. Realizing he was sitting there gawking at a woman’s naked back, Jared cleared his head of a variety of thoughts and gently pulled the largest skin up and over her body. The back of the woodsman’s hand unintentionally grazed the warm skin as he positioned the cover. The swordswoman stirred, her breath quickening slightly. She slowly rolled to her back and blinked up at him groggily.

  “I am so sorry I disturbed you, Sasha,” he whispered. She looked about her surroundings as if very much confused.

  “Where…?” she asked, but cut off her own question with a groan and clutched a hand to her still bruised ribs that Chyla had not had the strength to heal fully.

  “This is the first time you’ve awoken?” Jared asked, clearly surprised that none of his and their companion’s previous visits had been noted. Sasha nodded. “Here, you must be thirsty. We haven’t been able to get you to drink or eat much while you were unconscious.” From his belt, he handed her his waterskin, from which she drank greedily. After her thirst was sated, Jared laid a reassuring hand on hers and began to explain. “Soon after the orcs took you from us, we were rescued by a local therianthrope tribe.” Sasha looked confused and Jared acknowledged her questioning expression by saying, “I know you don’t know what therianthrope means, and I didn’t either until yesterday. I’ll explain more about them later. We were able to reach you just in time before…,” Jared paused, seeing the memory of painful flames cloud Sasha’s eyes. Tears welled and dripped from their outer corners down into her hair. Jared couldn’t stand to see her cry; he scooped her gently into his arms and held her close. “You are safe now; we all are thanks to our new friends.” He buried his face in her copper curls, letting out a relieved sigh of his own. “You bore the worst of the wounds, so Chyla asked that you have a tent to yourself to rest quietly in. Your sister, Mala, the Nhyme… all are well, I assure you. I…”

  Sasha pulled back from him, placing her hands on either side of his freshly shaven face, and planted her lips on his, kissing him deeply. Jared was startled at first but returned the kiss with an unbridled passion too long pent up.

  “Sasha…,” he whispered, pulling back after the initial embrace. “Are you sure we should be doing this? Are you well enough?”

  “Shhhh,” she said laying a finger over his lips. “I was so afraid when the orcs took me from the tent and yet my fear was not about dying. I was afraid of dying without letting you know how much I care about you.” He kissed her fingertip gently, grasping her hand with his own. “I am well enough, don’t worry,” she smiled mischievously.

  The swordswoman wrapped her arms around his neck, and they continued to kiss over and over, letting the fur blanket between them fall away. The woodsman ran his hands up the length of her back, grasping her hair, and pulling her head back firmly but not hard enough to hurt her, exposing her neck to his hungry lips. After laying a series of kisses down her neck and chest, Sasha got to her knees and wrapped her bare legs around his waist. They shared yet another long kiss that way, before he lowered her onto the pallet as she eagerly tugged at the leather fasteners to his breeches. He shed his top clothes, revealing several remaining bruises on his shoulder and his own ribs, while she pulled down his trousers. He lowered himself upon her.

  After exhausting themselves thoroughly, Jared lay behind Sasha with his arm around her torso. They fell asleep with matching contented grins.

  The morning sun shining directly in their faces woke Jared and Sasha. A dark form stood in the doorway of the tent, holding the bear hide open, allowing in also a burst of chill wind. The two lovers opened their eyes immediately only to close them to a squint as they looked up at the interloper. Mala’s voice came from the figure.

  “Well it is a good thing I didn’t let Katya come check on you this morning, Sasha,” the Master Swordswoman chuckled and let the hide close as she entered the tent. Jared and Sasha grabbed for skins as they sat up, covering their naked bodies in their embarrassment. Jared’s eyes glanced just for a moment to his sword that he knew rested underneath his pile of discarded clothes before returning his gaze to a fully armored Mistress Mala. He thought his heart would beat out of his chest in his fear that Mala would skin him alive for sleeping with her charge. Mala still stood just inside the tent’s entrance, letting her eyes adjust to the low light of the candle soon to burn out. The older woman sighed and then laughed.

  “Sasha, you are supposed to be resting,” she spoke again. Sasha was petrified and speechless. Mala tossed a fresh candle to Sasha, who caught it while still managing to keep the furs hiding her breasts tucked under her armpits. “Good catch, I see you are feeling better. I am going to go outside now. Jared, I expect you to be dressed and outside shortly. I’ll be waiting.” With that, she exited the tent.


  Jared and Sasha looked after her for a moment longer, before looking blankly at each other. Sasha’s look of terror faded to a warm smile upon seeing his face. She kissed him and giggled softly. Pulling away, her brows furrowed with mild concern as she traced the exterior of his bruised eye. Jared winced slightly.

  “Sorry,” she said, letting her hand fall away from his injury.

  “It is fine. Don’t worry,” the woodsman replied with an encouraging smile. “I had forgotten about it until now, really.” Sasha smirked.

  “You better not keep her waiting,” the redhead teased. Jared smiled and kissed her once more before pulling on his pants. He dressed quickly, buckled his sword belt around his hips, and donned his heavy fur cloak. Sasha watched him the whole time, a mischievous grin on her face. Finished dressing, Jared leaned down and kissed Sasha one last time.

  “If I live through the next hour, I’ll bring you some breakfast,” he said, smiling handsomely. His tone did, however, carry a touch of worry. Sasha laughed.

  “I’d appreciate that,” she replied before lying back down and snuggling under the furs.

  Jared exited the tent. Mistress Mala was waiting just like she said. Her swords were still sheathed. The woodsman let out a breath of relief. Mala followed his gaze to her weapons and laughed.

  “No, I won’t hurt you, Jared. Branden may have though,” she laughed again and beckoned him to follow her down the snowy hill to the enormous common pavilion of the large therianthrope village where the villagers met to feast together and discuss matters at hand. The woodsman tried not to think about the activities of the previous evening and act like normal in the presence of Mala. He looked around to distract himself.

  The view from the knoll they were descending showed much of the layout of the village, home to at least four hundred therianthropes. Jared had been told by one of their hosts that the town was called Tunkaschila Mukwa, roughly translated as “grandfather bear” after the chieftain whose animal form was a polar bear. The hunter was still amazed that some of the villagers spoke a little Illyander, allowing them to communicate. It made sense though that a few would speak his language given their close proximity to the Kingdom of Illyander. The town itself was surrounded by a massive wall of bound tree trunks driven deep into the cold ground and carved to points at the top. There were two gates fixed between rustic log watchtowers, one on the south side and one to the northwest. There must be woods nearby to have supplied timber for the wall and the firewood they use, he surmised. The woodsman smiled at the thought that a forest may be nearby; he longed desperately to walk amongst trees again after trudging across the frigid wasteland that was the Frozen March. Tendrils of smoke rose from vents in the roof of the main pavilion in the distance, their source being the braziers warming the inside of the dwelling. The village wasn’t set up in any particular order, but there were several more commonly used footpaths than others. The two companions traversed on such a path. They passed by tents of all different dimensions depending on the size of the family that lived there. This was their second day here and the woodsman still hadn’t gotten used to walking past a “human” one minute and then a giant white stag the next. He had observed and discovered through conversation that these therianthropes could only change into one kind of winter animal, unlike the Nhyme who could change into any small woodland creature. The variety of winter animals here was fascinating to him; animals Jared would never have been able to get this close to, leopards, bears, deer, wolves, and lynx were everywhere. He hadn’t tried to mentally connect with the therianthropes like he would a normal animal, thinking it was best he did not; he might lose his mind, they could just wall him off, or he might horribly offend them. Jared made a mental note to try and speak with Chieftain Hridayesh and see if he knew about people with his abilities. Maybe not though, enough people already know, thought the hunter. Sharing the details of his talents with Sasha, someone he had come to trust immensely, was understandable but that was a great deal different from sharing his personal affairs with a stranger, no matter how similar they were.