Allegiance Sworn (15 page)

Chapter 19

A
REK’S
stomach knotted at the look on Imhara’s face—horrified disbelief—the moment before the
Vorc
slipped and they both tumbled over the edge of the roadway. It was the same emotion he’d experienced the day he’d watched Kalan take a
Na’Reish
blade in the gut. He’d seen it coming but been unable to stop it happening.

Just like now.

A swift glance at Rassan revealed he was too involved with the ambush to be in any position to help. Who knew how long it would take to fight the enemy off or if they would succeed.

Heart pounding in his chest, Arek turned to the wagon driver. “Quick! Your gloves!”

“What?” The sandy-haired human stared at him as if he’d gone mad.

“Give me your gloves!”

The man stripped them off. “Why?”

With no time to answer, Arek pulled them on. He sprinted to the spot where Imhara had gone over. Boots skidding on loose gravel, he dropped to his stomach and peered over the lip of the trail. A vulnerable position with the archers, but he ignored the crawling sensation between his shoulder blades.

Merciful Mother!
A sickening scar of missing rock and chunks of soil marred the slope before something heavy had smashed through the tree line over a hundred feet below. A few stray rocks and pebbles still rattled down the hillside.

Could Imhara have survived the fall? The hillside wasn’t a sheer drop, but it was steep enough, studded with trees and bushes, perhaps enough to slow her momentum, if she’d been thrown clear of her mount.

If not . . .
Lady of Light
, he’d seen the injuries a fallen war-beast could inflict on a rider. Most had been fatal.
Vorc
were as heavy and solid an animal as them. A shiver worked its way down his spine.

Sucking in a deep breath, Arek launched himself over the edge. He dug his gloved fingers and heels of his boots into the earth to control the slide. Already loosened, more clods of dirt dislodged with his descent. He watched them skip and bounce ahead of him. Some shattered into clouds of dust as they struck once too often, some vanished into the tree line.

Enough debris had built up at the end of the scar to create a mound. He flung himself sideways and hit hard enough to drive the wind from his lungs. Better that than broken legs. Rocks and dirt cascaded over him. Gasping and coughing for breath, he covered his head until the worst of it was over.

Slowly, Arek looked up. The heavy scent of fresh earth filled his nostrils as his breathing steadied. A quick glance back upslope reassured him nothing else would tumble down on top of him. Faint war cries drifted on the cold breeze.

With a swift pray to the
Lady
for Rassan and the others, Arek rolled to his feet and headed into the stunted alpine forest. The
Vorc
lay ten feet in. It rested against the trunks of several trees, neck snapped by the fall. The coldness curling in his gut intensified.

“Imhara?”

Arek worked his way around its tail end, using the tree trunks to combat the slope of the ground. One more step and he stared at where he’d anticipated finding her broken body, and blinked when it wasn’t there.

Pulse beating hard, he scoured the ground for signs of her. “Imhara!”

Only the sound of the wind whistled through the forest. How in the
Lady’s
name had she walked away from a hundred-and-fifty-foot tumble with two arrows in her? Built stronger than humans, the
Na’Reish
could take more punishment to their bodies—broken limbs were rare, their bones heavier, denser; he’d seen that time and again on the battlefield—but injured internal organs bled and incapacitated them just as easily as humans.

Arek shook his head and peered around the forest. With the overcast conditions, shadows of gray obscured everything. Precious moments slipped away as he untied Imhara’s pack from the dead
Vorc
. If she were alive, he’d need some of the items contained within. He slung it and her sword belt over his shoulder, then began searching for her trail.

At the base of a nearby tree, he discovered drag marks and chips of tree bark scattered on the moss, as if someone had used the trunk to pull themselves upright. And there—he stretched out his fingers to trace the clear outline—the heel of a boot. Farther on, a rock stained with a bloody handprint.

Lady’s Breath
—Arek released a slow breath—Imhara had walked from the fall. A wave of relief made him pause by a tree trunk. He frowned. Why such an intense reaction? He shook his head. That could wait until later.

Injured and losing blood, he doubted she could move particularly fast. Her tracks headed downhill toward a gentler incline where the spur leveled out.

He would find her. Eventually.

But now his greatest concern came from two other sources.

The first—the imminent snowstorm. If he couldn’t locate her before it hit, they’d both be at the mercy of the elements. Not a death he particularly relished.

The second—the boot prints marking the earth next to Imhara’s bloody handprint. Although tall, Imhara’s feet weren’t that wide. Nor were there two of her.

Someone else was hunting her.

* * *

“HER
tracks lead into the gully!” A deep-voiced hail jerked Imhara out of a doze. “The scent of her blood is fresh!”

While the wind carried the words to her, she knew her pursuers were close, perhaps at the edge of the tree line where the slope flattened out. Where she’d tripped when her boot had caught on a rock, then fallen. She’d left a trail even a blind ground-burrower could follow.

Fleeing on instinct hadn’t helped, but it’d been the only option open to her when she’d heard them searching for her after the fall. She’d meant to stop only a moment to gather her strength and her breath, and plan her next move. But the pounding in her head made thinking impossible, so she’d closed her eyes, hoping it would help.

She grimaced, recognizing the symptoms. Head injury, exhaustion, or blood loss—any or all were probable. She couldn’t afford to be incapacitated by any of them right now.

Huddled against the side of a boulder, she pressed her cheek and shoulder against its gritty surface.

“They’ll kill you when they find you, Imhara,” she panted. “Do you want that?” With a grunt she straightened. “No. The
Lady
helps those who help themselves.”

But she couldn’t ignore the warm stickiness soaking her right breeches’ leg all the way down into her boot. Her arm didn’t feel much better. The heavy iron odor of fresh blood filled her nostrils. The sleeve of her shirt stuck to her skin from wound to wrist, and the back of her hand bore a bizarre pattern of drying blood.

She grimaced. The tumble down the valley wall had snapped the shafts of the arrows off and driven the heads deeper into her flesh. They had to come out.

Blood and dirt caked her clothes, so using them as bandages was out, and cauterizing the wounds to stop the bleeding required a fire. How much time did she have before her trackers found her? Probably not enough to complete that procedure.

“If she gets away, the
Na’Reishi
will have our heads.”

“She’s wounded. How far can she get?” The second voice rose and fell in volume as the wind shifted. Two males pursued her. Both unfamiliar. “We’ll find her unconscious somewhere.”

Imhara’s lip curled. Such arrogance, holding a conversation while tracking someone they presumed was helpless.

Which Clan did they belong to? Who had sent them? She issued a soft grunt. Any number of names could top that list, for myriad reasons. She’d made plenty of enemies over the years. Why had they chosen to attack now?

And what had happened to the others? The caravan? Had they survived the ambush? Had anyone seen her fall?

So many questions, and no answers.

No idea if help was coming or if her Clan lay slaughtered up on the roadway. Was she the lone survivor, just like the time she’d lost her family? A shiver worked its way through her.

Imhara issued a breathless laugh. An iciness tangled with the nausea in her gut. Her laughter became ragged gasps.

Don’t lose it now!
The thought was a vicious command.

Gritting her teeth, she pressed her injured arm hard against the rough surface of the boulder. Searing agony shot from her shoulder to her wrist.

“Lady’s Breath!”
The hoarse curse ripped from her throat.

She panted, waiting for the pain to abate. Shivers racked her body. At least the panic had subsided.

“Come on, Kaal! Too many depend on you to give up now. You’ve felt like
Vorc
crap after training. You’ve been wounded before.”

Not this badly.

The small voice at the back of her mind was hard to ignore when it was right. She crooked cold, stiff fingers over the edge of the boulder and glanced up at the overcast sky. It was still bitingly cold but the wind had dropped. Snowfall was imminent. Could her day get any worse?

“This blood is fresh!” Stones clattered on her back trail, too close. “She’s headed that way.”

When Imhara glanced behind her, she saw two
Na’Hord
warriors round the bend in the gully. With a grunt, she pushed to her feet, uncertain if pure Kaal stubbornness or desperation fueled her.

“Whatever works, Imhara,” she muttered. Head swimming, she clung to the boulder and waited for the world to steady. “You breathe. Your heart beats. Move!”

Inhaling hard, she scanned the ground ahead. Her options were limited. Traverse the slope and go up. That required too much energy and a body not handicapped by her injuries. Returning the way she’d come meant meeting her pursuers more quickly.

So, that left continuing on into the narrow head of the gully.

A dead end.

She snorted quietly. Quite appropriate, given the confrontation to come.

Shrubs and a few boulders littered the ground ahead, chunky sentinels that would provide her with interim way stations as she headed for her end destination—a ridgeline of rock—the most defensible piece of ground she could reach in the time she had left.

Gritting her teeth, she took a halting step, then another, and another.

“See, there she is!” Imhara didn’t bother turning at the triumphant announcement. She lurched from one boulder to the next, her legs shaking. “What did I tell you, Garsh?”

“Where are you going,
Na
Kaal?”

She ignored the hail and low-pitched laughter of the two males but welcomed the hot rush of adrenaline as her temper sparked. It helped her cover the last several feet. Breath coming in ragged gasps, she leaned against the cold, hard wall.

Behind her, gravel crunched underfoot. Her nostrils filled with a heavy acidic odor.

Predatory excitement.

Any further sign of weakness would increase their confidence. She turned, her armor scraping against the rock face. Every vibration shot straight through her wounded arm like slivers of glass. Biting back a moan, she drew her dagger from her belt and pushed away from the wall.

“Looks like there’s some fight left in her yet, Garsh.” Satisfaction oozed from the
Na’Hord
warrior on the left. His dark purple gaze gleamed as it flickered to the weapon she held. “A futile effort,
Na
Kaal. I’ll grant you a swift death, if you drop your blade now.”

“My life is worth more than that.” Anger cut through her weariness and pain. “You’ll have to work for it.”

“Will we now?” He grunted and folded his arms. “You’re looking a little pale and unsteady on your feet.”

“And that isn’t dirt staining your breeches.” His companion chuckled. “She’ll be lucky to scratch us with that dagger in her hand, Jedir.”

“Bold words,
Na’Reishu
.” She widened her stance, teeth clenched hard to hide the pain of placing weight on her wounded leg. “Come closer and let’s see if I can stick a few holes in you to let out all that hot air.”

Garsh’s mouth tightened and a gloved fist clenched, as if he wasn’t used to being spoken to by a female in such a manner. Imhara’s mouth twitched. He probably wasn’t.

“You boast loud for a warrior”—she injected all the contempt she could muster into her tone—“but you lack the courage to follow through.”

The
Na’Reisha’s
face flushed a dull red and he took a step toward her. Jedir threw out an arm to stop him. The look he shot Garsh was scathing.

“Clever.” His chuckle wasn’t pleasant. “We were warned you had a mouth.” His glare turned on her and narrowed. “Rest assured we’ll teach you the proper use of it before we’re through with you.”

“You can try.” Imhara eased into an offensive stance. “And fail, like all the others.”

Garsh’s gaze widened then flickered to Jedir. Had no one told him she knew how to fight? What arrogance. And a mistake.

The two
Na’Hord
warriors took their time closing in on her. Jedir stood over seven feet tall, all brawn and muscle, more than capable of wielding the heavy sword sheathed at his waist. No inexperienced youth, not with the gray streaking his temples and the dark hair pulled back into a single ponytail at the base of his neck.