Allegiance Sworn (35 page)

“Ride hard!” She sucked in deep lungfuls of air. “Run!”

Those closest did, urging others on foot ahead of them as they went. Some riders picked up a third passenger. Heart pounding in her chest, Imhara ignored the growing ache in the muscles of her legs and sides.

A Kaal Clan war cry split the air. A swift glance showed Barrca and another of her
Na’Hord
engaged in battle with the lead
Vorc-Rider
. Her gait faltered.

“Keep going!” Arek grasped her arm.

“They’ll be overrun!” She gasped.

Steel on steel rang out.

Thunder rumbled so hard the ground seemed to shift beneath her foot. Then, as small rocks and pebbles danced on the ground in front of her, she realized it had.

Another swift glance and a mass of rock, slate gray, almost black from the rain and sleet, rolled down the mountainside, gathering speed and debris—bushes, shrubs, other boulders—with terrifying intensity. The sound of them smashing together grew to a deafening roar.

The ground heaved. A sharp crack split the air. An entire overhang collapsed behind the battle, blocking the passageway, stopping the main
Na’Hord
force from reaching them. Debris spewed upward and outward. The vibration rattled under the ground, up through her boots, and into her body.

As if the shelf of rock mimicked the release valve in a dam, another section of the mountain broke free close to the top of the scree, this one in direct line with Barrca and the others.

“
Light
, no!” Imhara tried to shout a warning to them. The terrifying rumble swallowed her hoarse scream.

The wall of rock skimmed the slope so fast it was like watching floodwater sweep into a crevice. Hideously black, bone-shattering, sudden death. It impacted the
Vorc-Riders
, Barrca, the other
Na’Hord
, Ayson, and Maag in less than a heartbeat.

Imhara’s chest squeezed tight. She could feel but not hear herself screaming. More dust and debris exploded along the narrow corridor, rolling toward them in a suffocating wave.

Arek’s arm hooked around her waist. “Down!”

She barely heard him as he pulled her to the far wall. Another upheaval. The earth fell out from beneath them. They hit the ground in a tangle of arms and legs.

Arek rolled her under him. He cradled her head to his chest. The pain in her shredded her heart.

Gone! Her people were gone!

She screamed.

And the world came apart around them.

Chapter 39

“W
E
need to keep moving.” Rassan’s hoarse voice rose above the sound of people coughing, groaning in pain, or quietly grieving. “We’re vulnerable here.”

The clatter and smashing of rock drew terrified cries from the children and momentarily cut off the crying. The rattling died down.

The wind howled, a mournful sound as it forced its way over and around the new mountain of rock blocking the passageway behind them. There was no way anyone was going to be able to shift it or climb over it. The pass was permanently sealed.

Arek released a relieved breath and eyed the unstable slope. Anything could set off a new slide. Rassan was right. They needed to traverse the rest of the trail and clear the pass.

He winced as he pushed to his feet, his boots squelching in the fine mush of sleet and dust. The ice was quickly melting now that Oreese had stopped summoning the storm. Clouds were breaking up and being scattered by the mountain winds while the sun was pushing its way through them.

Arek rubbed at the tender spot on his thigh where he’d landed on a sharp rock when he’d taken Imhara to the ground. It was the worst of many aches bruising his body but not the worst injury sustained by the group huddled along the bend in the trail.

“Up! Everyone up!” The
Na’Chi
warrior kneed his mount along the ragged line of survivors. “Jawn, get these children back on their mounts. Anyone who’s injured also needs to ride. Once we reach The Overhang, we’ll stop and tend ourselves. Head them out!”

Rassan drew level with him. Dust had smeared to mud on the warrior’s face. The garish mask of gray and black painted every face in the group. It coated hair and clothing, and even the animals’ wool had changed color to a uniform ash gray.

“You all right?”

Arek nodded. “Sore but nothing serious. We were on the very edge of the rockslide. Thank the
Lady
for the wall we ended up against. It deflected the worst of the rubble over us. Most of the blood you can scent comes from minor cuts. Ricocheting debris.”

“And Imhara?”

He glanced over his shoulder at the lone figure standing with her arms wrapped around her staring back at the blocked corridor. In the minutes after the ground had stopped shaking, when he’d realized he was still alive and not crushed under half the mountain, he’d been overwhelmed with relief to feel Imhara moving beneath him.

“Battered.” The sound of her hoarse, gut-deep sobbing had pierced Arek all the way to his soul. He’d been unable to do anything but hold her until it eased. “Spirit more than body.”

She hadn’t spoken since the landslide, just taken up silent vigil at the edge, her gaze haunted, hollow, like her heart had taken the brunt of the slide.

He sucked in a shuddering breath and scrubbed a hand over his face, grimacing at the grit that came away and the sting of cuts yet undiscovered on his skin. “There’s no chance anyone will be coming through Skadda Pass now.”

No way Barrca or any of the others could have survived, either.

“The pass had to be closed.” The
Na’Chi
’
s
solemn gaze was tinged with a pale gray as he surveyed the damage. “Maag and Ayson spent weeks studying the scree. They knew exactly what they had to do and how far they should have been back, but I don’t think they anticipated having to do it under the pressure they did. Yet,
Lady
bless them, they still made sure the pass was sealed.” His mouth pulled down at the corners and he blinked hard, his voice rough and low as he spoke. “Barrca knew that. So did the others. It doesn’t make their deaths any easier to accept, but I don’t think any of them would regret their actions.”

Arek swallowed several times to ease the tightness in his throat. His grief might not have the same depth as those around him, but the loss of six people he’d been getting to know still impacted.

“The
Lady
will guide them on their Final Journey.” He drew in a steadying breath. “And we’ll remember them in our hearts.”

Rassan gave a tight nod. “We’ll mourn them properly once we get home.” Around them people were rising, their movements subdued, chatter hushed. The
Na’Chi
tilted his head in Imhara’s direction. “Shall I get her?”

“No, I’ll do it. You’re going to have to lead these people for a while.”

The warrior hesitated a moment, then sighed. “She’ll try and take responsibility for this.”

“I know.” Arek knew the sickening sensation of watching friends die, and the aftermath of wondering if you could have done anything differently. His smile was more a baring of teeth than anything joyous. “Leave us a mount and we’ll follow shortly.”

Arek waited until the last of the group disappeared around the bend in the trail before walking back to Imhara. He took his time, the loose shale and other debris crunching underfoot. The way she still hugged her arms around her waist gave her a fragile appearance.

He knew she was strong, he’d seen her fortitude so many times in the last few weeks, yet now he saw no evidence of it in her bowed shoulders and head. And as he stepped around her, the expression on her face ripped at his innards.

Tear tracks sliced through the dusty mask on her cheeks; her violet gaze stared through him, raw with grief and pain.

She looked shattered.

“Imhara.” Three times he called her name before drawing a response. Her brow furrowed and she blinked. “It’s time to leave.”

“Leave?” Her question was flat, lifeless, unlike the spark of dull anger in her violet gaze. It gave him hope. “We can’t leave. What if”—her jaw flexed and she swallowed hard—“what if one of them is alive? We have to dig them out.”

Moving to one side, he waved a hand at the massive pile of boulders and rock, some as large as a crofter’s hut. “No one survived this, Imhara.”

She hissed a curse, expression twisting, a flurry of guilt, anguish, and fury streaking across her face. It was better than the haunted look. She shook her head. “You don’t know that for sure.”

“Half a mountain came down. It could take weeks to find them.” Arek ground his teeth together, hating he had to do this to her. “Time. Injuries. No food or water. Exposure to the elements. Take your pick. Do you think they’d survive any or all of those things?”

A whimper escaped her mouth before she could cover it. Her violet eyes welled with tears. Arek’s throat closed over and he had to clear it twice before being able to speak.

“You’ve a group of people heading down the trail who need you more than ever.” He gestured behind her. She shook her head again. “Focus on them, not the dead.”

Beneath her dusty mask, Imhara’s cheeks paled. “They shouldn’t have died! Not like this!”

Another curse, this one aimed at him, then she struck out, a clenched fist that he blocked with his arm. Closing his hand around her wrist, he jerked her in against him. She pummeled him, a wild bout of struggling interspersed with punches and heated words.

Wrapping his arms around her halved the power behind them. Had she wanted to, she could have jerked free but she didn’t. He took the impacts silently, knowing grief drove her and not any motive to cause him harm.

Gradually, her actions lost strength, the blows stopped, and she just stood inside his embrace, her whole body shaking.

Arek pressed his forehead against hers and smoothed a hand along her back. “The day I was captured by Meelar’s raiders, my best friend and I were a part of a patrol attempting to rescue the crofters the slaver had taken from their village. Despite our best efforts, that rescue failed, and I watched my friend take a dagger in the side. The wound bled like yours. I don’t know if he survived.” He drew in a shuddering breath. “Do you know how many times I’ve replayed that memory? Or asked myself if I could have done something different to avoid it ever happening? You can’t change what happened, Imhara.”

“The hurt doesn’t stop.” Imhara’s whisper-thin reply squeezed the heart in his chest.

“No, it doesn’t, but you can always choose to hold on to something else to ease it.”

“Like what?”

“Why do you think Barrca and the others stayed where they were in the pass, fighting the
Na’Hord
patrol and using their Gifts to create the slide?” he asked, softly. Her forehead rubbed against his as she shook her head. “They did it so others would know this. . . .”

He brushed his lips against hers, putting all his concentration into creating the softest of touches, letting her feel the heat of his heart and his strength.

“A kiss?” A whisper of sound against his lips, confused yet breathless.

“Life,” he murmured. “Hope. Freedom. They stayed and fought to give us all these things, Imhara. They believed in your dream, your parents’ legacy.”

She hiccupped, a half gasp, a half sob. Her hands fisted in his shirt as she seized onto the strength in his words. He held her against him, pain and joy mixing with equal intensity inside him as she leaned on him, in every sense of the word. A gentle heat burned close to his heart and spread outward with every beat.

A hollow grating and crack of rock against rock tumbling down the ruined scree reminded him they couldn’t linger.

“Imhara, we have to go,” he murmured. “It’s not safe here.”

She shuddered but nodded and let him lead her to the shaggy beast tethered along the trail. He helped her mount first, then swung up behind her, feeling the absence of her during those few seconds. But once settled he pulled her back in against him and took up the reins.

In his arms, Imhara turned and cast one last look at the landslide. Her throat worked, and her eyes still welled with tears, but her chin lifted.

“
Lady
bless your Journeys!” Her hoarse call echoed back off the walls of the pass. “The Kaal Clan lives because of you all!” She met his gaze then, chin trembling. A soul-deep weariness and sadness still shadowed it, but beneath it lay a spark of the strength he’d come to admire. “Let’s go, Arek. Let’s go home.”

Chapter 40

F
IVE
days saw a new Kaal caravan on its way to human territory and Sacred Lake. During the first two days, Arek helped the Clan mourn and celebrate the lives of those who’d died on the mountain. The memorial ceremony was attended by every man, woman, and child in the Clan:
Na’Reish
,
Na’Chi
, and human.

On day three, the first early winter storm struck the lower reaches of the Skadda Mountains. Scouts sent out reported snowdrifts blocking the roadway to Whitewater River. The drifts melted within a day, but the warning was clear. If they didn’t go soon, they ran the risk of being trapped in the fortress all winter.

The last few days were spent outfitting and organizing supplies and transport for a small mixed-race group of Gifted and non-Gifted to accompany Imhara across the border.

The morning of the journey, again everyone in the Clan turned out to see them off. With a feast being held the night before, farewells were brief, yet as Arek nudged the woolly sides of his beast with his knees and headed out after Imhara and Rassan, he could feel the hopes and excitement of the people standing on the walls and lining the roadway.

Arek’s journey by boat on Whitewater River proved significantly different to his arrival so many weeks ago. Two days’ travel downstream brought them to the landing at the very eastern tip of the Skadda Ranges. After a final night in Kaal territory, sleeping at the edge of the forest that bordered their land with the Southern Province, they crossed into human territory the following morning.

As if sensing his excitement at returning to familiar territory, the beast beneath Arek’s knees snorted and shifted restlessly. Chuckling, he pulled the reins in tight and slapped its thickly muscled neck.

“Easy, we’ll be moving in a moment, my friend,” he murmured.

Until this moment he hadn’t let himself consider the possibility of returning to Sacred Lake, but now excitement and impatience mixed with a healthy dose of nerves and uncertainty. So much waited at the end of this trip. Taking a deep breath, Arek schooled himself to patience.

The sun penetrated the canopy overhead, creating dappled shadows and warm patches amongst the undergrowth. Out of the foothills of the mountains, the trees here had yet to lose their leaves, the lingering warmer weather extending their season.

“Arek!”

Rassan’s hail turned him in the saddle. The
Na’Chi
stood beside his mount, gesturing for him to join him and Imhara at the edge of the forest. The half-dozen others in the party also stood by their beasts, and the way they glanced between Rassan and Imhara warned him something was amiss.

Arek clucked his tongue and turned his mount in their direction. As he drew closer, he heard Rassan’s frustrated growl. The
Na’Chi
dropped the reins of his beast and strode away from Imhara, a litany of ripe curses heating the air.

“Arek, see if you can talk some sense into her!” he growled and slapped his gloves against the side of his breeches.

Arek slid from the saddle. “What’s going on?”

“Simple.” She threw her pack over the back of the saddle and tied it off, her movements sharp, a scowl as dark as her Second’s on her face. “I’ve just told Rassan that it will be only you and me completing this journey.”

“What? Since when did our plans change?”

Imhara turned, her expression carefully composed, outwardly calm, but the fire in her gaze scorched them both.

“Since I decided the risks involved in this venture didn’t justify placing another six people in jeopardy.”

Rassan folded his arms. “I’m still waiting to hear the logic behind this decision.”

“The odds of the Blade Council believing the word of a
Na’Reish
demon that our Clan means them no harm are slim.” She tapped one of the saddle packs on her beast. The hollow thump indicated one of the precious Kaal journals lay within. “The words on these pages won’t be enough to convince them. Savyr’s death might have swayed them, but since we weren’t successful in that little venture, I don’t know if it’s wise to take so many into human territory. Two can convey our request for a truce as well as eight.”

“Arek told you they found evidence in their ancestors’ journals about the Old Ways.” The
Na’Chi
warrior sounded like he spoke through gritted teeth. “We’re giving them more proof to examine. Arek’s seen the Old Ways in action. He’s a Light Blade warrior prepared to stand with you when you face their Council! How could they not listen and consider our proposal for a truce?”

Arek grunted and empathized with Rassan’s frustration. Imhara’s sudden change of heart didn’t make a lot of sense except he’d seen the flicker of shadows in her gaze when she’d mentioned the word
risks
.

It also made her behavior in the days since returning to the fortress more comprehensible. Other than attending the memorial ceremony, Imhara had spent most of her time in the library.

Her daily ritual of visiting the inner barracks to mix with the new members of the Clan had been put off with the excuse the
Isha
humans weren’t ready. Her attendance at training sessions had been equally as sporadic.

Without those clues, he’d have been as frustrated as Rassan seemed to be. It was unlike the
Na’Chi
not to pick up on Imhara’s behavior. Perhaps the impact of Barrca’s death affected and distracted him more than he was letting on.

Whatever the reason, dismissing three-quarters of the group and ordering them to return to the fortress was illogical. The people selected to accompany them had a wide range of Gifts and skills the Guild Masters would appreciate exploring.

Both Imhara and Rassan possessed details about the demon
Na’Hord
the Blade Council would need to know. Skadda Pass might be closed to Savyr’s army, but there were other, less strategic places his forces could cross into human territory. Again knowledge either of them could share with the Council.

Arek released a soft sigh and tugged off his riding gloves. His mouth twisted wryly at the situation facing him now. Two months ago he’d have fought to the death to deny Imhara Kaal and her Clan access to human territory, now he had to convince her it was in everyone’s best interest to go.

And the only way he was going to do that was to neutralize every excuse she offered. A sure way to rile her temper, but he preferred to see her fighting than giving up.

“Convincing the Blade Council of your sincerity isn’t going to be easy.” He tucked his gloves into his belt.

Imhara gave a sharp nod. “See, Rassan, Arek agrees with me.”

The warrior fisted his hands, the leather of his gloves creaking. His scowl spoke volumes as his violet gaze pierced him.

Arek held up his hand. “Imhara, I don’t agree with you. Not entirely. Trusting any
Na’Reish
is a huge thing to ask. You can expect a whole host of reactions similar to mine when we first met. But”—and here he paused to marshal his thoughts—“there’s always the option of claiming sanctuary. As a Light Blade warrior, I can make the claim on your behalf, and when we reach Sacred Lake, we can approach the
Temple Elect
at the
Lady’s
Temple. That will protect you all until the Blade Council can meet to hear your appeal.

“Don’t forget though, the Kaal journals are compelling. After reading them, I know many of the events recounted by your ancestors correlate with the time line and versions I found in our past
Chosen
-leaders’ diaries. Facts cannot be ignored. The current
Chosen
won’t ignore them, nor will he let the Council ignore them.”

Rassan’s scowl eased.

“We might not have killed Savyr. However, the significance of Yur’s death can’t be dismissed.” Arek allowed her to see his satisfaction. “We eliminated the
Na’Rei’s
Second in Command. What sort of effect will this have on Savyr’s plans? At the very least, it will take some time for him to mobilize his entire army, and he can’t do it without a new Second. He’s going to have to find a replacement, someone as loyal and trustworthy as Yur. Not an easy task, considering the politics and strategies his Commanders will employ as they attempt to earn his favor.

“And when you add in the Kaal journals and my firsthand account of living among your Clan, I guarantee you the
Chosen
, the
Temple Elect
, Annika, and a handful of the Councilors will listen.”

Imhara raised an eyebrow. She strode toward him and grasped his wrist. Shoving his sleeve up his arm, she exposed the just-healed-over teeth marks and paler scars of past bites.

“You might be a Light Blade warrior, but these brand you as a blood-slave. You told me that humans doubt the word of one so afflicted because of the addiction they believe exists between demon and slave. What makes you think they’ll take your word over that?” She dropped his arm and returned to stand near her mount. “We’ll encounter a patrol just inside your border, they’ll see those marks, and you could claim to be the brother of the
Chosen
himself and they wouldn’t believe you. We’ll be lucky to even see the walls of Sacred Lake!”

Arek almost laughed at her analogy. He considered Kalan as close as a brother.

“We’ll see the inside of Sacred Lake, Imhara,” he assured her, and tugged his sleeve back down over his forearm.

For a moment, he hesitated, knowing in his gut that sharing his identity would matter.

To the success of the plan.

To Rassan.

But especially to her.

If he’d spoken up sooner, perhaps during the preparation phase of this journey, it might have circumvented this situation.

Pulse beating harder, he locked gazes with her so she’d see the truth in his eyes, and he steeled himself for her reaction.

“I’m not the brother of the
Chosen
, Imhara, but you’re close. I’m his best friend, and his Second in Command.”

* * *

IMHARA’S
head pounded as she stared at Arek, her blood heating fast. Her body though turned to ice.

I’m his best friend, and his Second in Command
. His soft words replayed over and over in her head.

Arek was Urkan Yur’s counterpart in the human world?

She swayed where she stood and reached out to grasp the edge of her saddle. Too little sleep and a rough boat ride of conflicting emotions over the last week made her head spin.

Both warriors started toward her, their expression reflecting their concern.

She widened her stance and waved off their assistance. “I’m fine.”

She dragged in a deep breath. The clean, cinnamon scent surrounding Arek assured her he spoke the truth. She held on to her temper.

Just.

Why had he kept his identity from her for so long?

Did it matter?

That he had slashed at her like the edge of a knife blade. She thought they’d reached a level of trust that superseded keeping secrets from one another.

Inside her something snapped.

Her lips twisted. “
Light
, Arek, you seemed quite happy to jump into bed with me”—her insides felt as brittle as her tone—“but you couldn’t find it in you to share your name and identity?”

Beneath his tan, Arek’s cheeks flushed. Anger or embarrassment?

“Imhara!” Rassan’s admonishment pricked at her conscience.

“What?” She stabbed a finger in Arek’s direction. “Such a significant piece of information and he hides it from us until now. Rather convenient, don’t you think?”

She gulped in a breath, uncaring that she sounded like a screeching
hobaan
. It was either that or give in to the aching hollowness inside her.

Her Second’s brow pulled low. “Don’t pretend he’s lying when his scent tells you otherwise.”

“Rassan, some of her anger is justified,” Arek said, the skin around his mouth creasing as he grimaced.

She snorted. “Just some?”

He came at her slowly, every line in his body as tight as his expression. He stopped an arm’s length from her, his twilight eyes narrowed, his smile grim.

“I could give you a list of reasons why I didn’t tell you sooner, Imhara, but you already know what some are likely to be.” She did, initial trust being high on that list. His words were calm but underlaced with steel. “I hurt you. Be angry with me. I’ll bear it.” He bared his teeth in a semi-smile. “But don’t use this as an excuse to deny the others a chance to accompany you to Sacred Lake.”

Imhara blinked, her anger stalling with his words. She swallowed hard and glanced away, not wanting him to know how accurate his assumption was.

“Now, let’s deal with the real reason why you don’t want them on this journey.” Arek’s voice gentled. She almost preferred the harder tone. It didn’t grate as much over the rawness inside her. “Risking lives.”

Light
, she couldn’t deal with this right now. She turned, gathering her reins. His hand caught her arm. The heat of him behind her, the scent of him surrounding her, the warmth of his touch immobilized her.

“Just say it out loud. Once. Keep it in and the fear will grow.” The words were whispered in her ear.

Hushed. Private. Intended to be just between them, although Rassan’s keen hearing had probably picked them up.