Allegiance Sworn (38 page)

Chapter 43

A
REK
paced the length of the rug in the center of the main room in his apartment, his mood as somber and anxious as the Kaal Clan members gathered there with him. Taking her ancestors’ journals with her and accompanied by several Light Blades, Imhara had left the apartment over an hour ago to meet with the Blade Council.

Needing fresh air, he headed out onto the balcony and leaned on the low wall looking out over the compound, taking in but not really seeing the training session going on over at the parade grounds.

His request to attend the meeting with Imhara had been denied. Considering the importance of the information, Arek wanted to be there so the Council could understand the significance of what Imhara had sacrificed to get it. His deepest fear was that they wouldn’t see past her
Na’Reish
heritage.

The irony of what he felt wasn’t lost on him. Kalan had to have experienced the same fears and range of emotions for Annika as he did for Imhara.

“You’re worried.” Rassan’s deep-voiced comment came from the doorway behind him. “Should I be concerned for the safety of my
Na
, Light Blade?”

“Concerned?” Arek straightened and turned to face the
Na’Chi
warrior. “No. Sanctuary has been granted. Imhara is safe.”

“Then why does your scent reek of apprehension?”

“I hoped to sit in on the Council meeting with each of you, but I’ve been denied permission.”

“Why?”

“My friendship with three of the Councilors is no secret.” He shrugged. “I’m guessing Kalan is trying to give the impression of impartiality.”

“Your
Chosen
seems like a fair man.” Rassan strode over to join him at the wall. “I was impressed with the way he questioned and listened during our conversations yesterday when your friends visited. They all seemed open to what we had to say.”

Arek nodded. “Annika and the
Na’Chi’s
arrival at Sacred Lake helped open a lot of people’s minds. The simple fact is we need to change if we’re to survive in this war against the
Na’Reish
. But more than that, we need people who are willing to initiate it, not just be led along. Kalan made changes on the Council to try and do that, but it’s still a long journey.”

In the short time he’d been absent from the city, a lot had changed. Kymora stepping down as
Temple Elect
had shocked him, and to hear she’d suffered at the hands of rebels left him furious. Yet her ordeal and the
Na’Chi’s
role in her rescue had created a greater acceptance of the half-bloods. That and the decline in the rebel movement gave him hope for the outcome of the Blade Council.

“What do you plan to do now that you’re home?”

Arek shot a sideways glance at the warrior, more for the neutral tone he used than the question he’d asked. It wasn’t like him to be indirect. “Speak plainly, Rassan.”

Violet eyes flecked with green met his. “Will you stay and resume your life as a Light Blade?”

Arek stared down at his boots, brow creased as he considered the question. Honestly, he hadn’t thought past surviving the Enclave, then getting the Kaal to Sacred Lake.

He could imagine settling back into the ranks of the Light Blades; it was what he knew. His passion for serving the
Lady
remained, and
She
would always play a central role in his life, but the motivation driving him had changed.

In some ways he was like Kymora. His focus had altered. For the better.

While some of his transformation could be attributed to Annika and the other
Na’Chi
, much of it could be accredited to Imhara. She’d unveiled the last of the lies controlling his life, then cared enough to lend him her strength to piece it back together.

“I don’t know.” And that was the
Lady
-spoken truth. It felt odd admitting that. “Being a Light Blade is my calling, but I suppose it depends on the outcome of the meeting. If the Council agree to the truce, I think I’d like to return with you to Kaal Fortress, to help ensure the transition.”

For the first time, he wanted more than a life of fighting and serving others. He wanted Imhara involved in it.

“So you would return out of duty to your people? Not because of Imhara?”

Arek grunted at his directness and scuffed a boot on the flagstone. He didn’t know if he was ready to have this conversation.

“I haven’t really thought about this, Rassan.”

A deflection at best, and a sidelong glance assured him he hadn’t fooled or deterred Rassan.

“You’ve thought about it enough to bed her. A huge leap from wanting her dead.” The
Na’Chi
tilted his head, arms folding. “And I haven’t seen her with a lover in five years, so she cares for you, Light Blade.”

The words pricked at Arek. His stomach clenched. Well, he had asked for directness.

Neither he nor Imhara had discussed their relationship. Not the longevity of it, or any commitment beyond the moment. It was probably a backward way to go about conducting themselves, but then nothing in their relationship had been normal.

At least, not for him.

And despite the warrior’s assurances Imhara cared for him, discussing their relationship without talking to her first didn’t seem right, yet Rassan deserved some sort of an answer.

“If you want to know if I have feelings for her, yes, I do. But if you want me to explain them, I can’t.”

It was the best he could do.

“Matters of the heart aren’t easy to define.” Rassan’s dark lips curved at the edges. “Yet judging by your scent, your heart already knows what it wants.”

His
scent.

Arek’s head snapped up. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“You’ll figure it out.” The warrior’s smile widened. “Eventually.”

Arek was about to demand he explain when footsteps sounded from inside the room.

Jaclan appeared in the doorway. “Arek, there’s a Light Blade at your door asking for you on behalf of someone called Davyn.”

“My grandfather?” Arek glanced to Rassan. Their conversation wasn’t finished. He wanted to know what the
Na’Chi
meant by his last comment, but he also wanted to see Davyn. There were questions he wanted to ask. “I need to see him.”

The warrior nodded. “Then go see your kin, Arek. I’ll let Imhara know where you’ve gone when she returns.”

* * *

“SO,
you’ve risen from the dead.”

The raspy growl came from somewhere to Arek’s left and held a familiar sharpness that never failed to grate against his nerves. He stood in the doorway, waiting for his eyes to adjust from stepping into a darkened building from direct sunlight.

“Word travels fast in this compound,” he replied, his tone as dry as Davyn’s. The Light Blade who’d accompanied him to the prison beneath the barracks remained outside with those on guard. “Especially to places you least expect.”

Cool air brushed against his face as the darkness receded. Several lanterns hanging on hooks around the room illuminated it enough to see his grandfather seated on a bench pushed against the stone wall in his cell.

Davyn’s prison lay belowground, and besides the iron bars that divided the room in two, a visiting area with a simple table and chair, the other his cell, the place could have been mistaken for a storage facility.

In the small cell, he had a bed, a low table stacked with books, paper and ink, and a pot privy—a far cry from his luxurious apartment. No doubt his grandfather resented living there. Would his opinion have changed if he’d experienced any of the
Na’Reish
dungeons and cages he’d seen in his time in demon territory?

“I still have friends in the ranks, Grandson. Those who haven’t forgotten the meaning of friendship and loyalty.”

Months of incarceration hadn’t curbed the bite in his tongue.

“You asked me here to berate my behavior?” Arek grimaced, regretting his retort even as he said it.

Even after months of not seeing him, taunting his grandfather was such an ingrained response. Such had been the state of their relationship for so many years.

He ran a hand through his hair and pulled the chair out from under the table, the hollow wood scraping on the stone floor loud in the confined area, and sat down on it. He hadn’t come to argue.

Davyn grunted. “So, are you going to sit there and stare at me or explain how you’re still alive?”

Arek told him about Yenass’s sacrifice, his recounting terse and to the point.

Davyn shifted his bulky frame to the edge of the bench and into the light cast by the single lantern within his cell. Pale blue eyes stared intently at Arek from beneath silvered brows, his age-worn face no longer darkened by a tan.

Silver gray hair brushed the collar of his shirt, a longer style than he’d seen his grandfather wear in the past, but then the warrior no longer needed a close-cropped style to fit under a helmet. He’d been stripped of his Light Blade title.

Disgraced and shamed.

A life ruined by hatred. One he’d almost copied.

“So you ended up on a demon auction block?” The older man’s mouth twisted, his cheeks flushed a ruddy color. “A
Na’Reish
slave?” He pushed to his feet and came to the bars of his cell.

“Not exactly.” Arek wondered just how much he should reveal of his time spent in
Na’Reish
territory. He could already anticipate Davyn’s criticism. “It’s a complicated story.”

“Come here.” The request was gruff and Davyn’s eyes glistened in the ambient light. He reached his arms through the bars, large hands gesturing him forward, almost as if he were asking for a hug.

Surely the old man hadn’t mellowed with age, or perhaps his premature death and resurrection had made him rethink his attitude? Whatever the case, Arek joined him at the bars.

Hoping.

Once he was within grasping distance, his wrist was seized and the sleeve of his shirt tugged up.

“Mother of Light!”
Davyn hissed and released him as if he’d been burned. “The rumors are true! You
are
a blood-slave.”

Loathing coated every word like the spittle gathered at the corners of his mouth. Several other curses blistered the air.

Harsh, hate filled, bitter.

All aimed at him, then Savyr.

The same tirade and mantra he’d heard all his life.

Arek clenched his fists. “I’m not going to waste my breath telling you why I have these marks on my arm. You won’t accept what I have to say anyway.” He didn’t bother to try to hide his disappointment or anger. “You’ve clung to your hatred for so long that it’s twisted you. And you tried to do the same with me!”

“I kept the memory of your parents alive. I made sure you knew who was to blame for ruining our lives.”

“You perpetuated lies.” Arek grasped the bars to Davyn’s cell. “Savyr hasn’t ruined your life. You have. Can’t you see that?” An ache started in his chest. There would be no point confronting him with his questions. “I came here hoping you might have changed. It hurts to see that you haven’t.” He shook his head. “There’s no reason for me to stay any longer.
Lady
bless you.”

He headed for the door.

“No blood-kin of mine would suffer the shame and humiliation of being a blood-slave. You betray everything we fight for!”

Arek flinched at the accusation. His jaw flexed. He should have expected it.

“The betrayal and shame is yours, Davyn.” He squeezed the latch. “It always has been. You know being a blood-slave is one of
Her
Gifts to us. Yet you continue to deny the truth.” He lifted the latch and sunlight streamed into the room. “Good-bye, Grandfather.”

“I’m not your grandfather. I don’t recognize you.” The pitch of the tirade rose. “You’re not my grandson! He died months ago. With honor. Fighting those he hated with every breath. That’s the way I’ll remember him.”

Arek stepped through the door. The two Light Blades outside turned, their expressions a mixture of astonishment and sympathy.

Inhaling a deep breath, he pulled the door shut with a firm snick. The door muffled Davyn’s shouting. The vibration of the latch catching eased the ache inside his chest.

“I’m ready to return to the apartment now.”

Back to Imhara.

His journey with Davyn was finished.

Chapter 44

L
ACING
her fingers together in her lap to hide their shaking, Imhara schooled her face into an attentive expression, one she’d used frequently when attending an Enclave. The scrape of wooden chairs on stone was loud within the Blade Council chamber as Rassan took the seat next to her, his large frame almost dwarfing the one he sat in.

Arek was the last to sit. He acknowledged all the Councilors with a half bow before pulling out the chair to her left. Behind them the double doors thudded shut as the Light Blade guards sealed them within the windowless room.

Imhara bowed her head as
Temple Elect
Sartor gave the opening prayer. After countless meetings over the last few days, the Council had made its decision. They were ready to announce whether they would agree to a truce with her Clan.

Finally.

Kalan slowly rose from his seat. His expression was as inscrutable as those seated alongside him. A prickling began between Imhara’s shoulder blades as his silence drew out.

She inhaled a steady breath, but there were too many scents mingling in the air to decipher which was his. They overlapped one another, a ripe combination, with no clue as to the outcome of the decision pending.

“This has been a long few days of discussions and deliberations,” he began, voice carrying clearly through the room so that everyone could hear him. “The lost knowledge you’ve shared with us and the discoveries made,
Na
Kaal, have been enlightening, exciting, and confronting, on many levels.

“As you’ve learned, several months ago we faced a similar situation when Annika and the
Na’Chi
arrived here. Their existence revealed the shared history of our three races, and a conspiracy that almost brought us to civil war. The results were several hard lessons learned, not the least of which is that change takes time.”

Kalan smoothed a hand over the cover of one of her ancestors’ journals, and his gaze glazed over as if he were seeing something in his mind.

“For us, the Old Ways are a step forward, a future to aim for, and it’s reassuring to see the progress we’ve made over the last few months with the
Na’Chi
has set us on this path.

“That your ancestors were able to maintain this tradition over hundreds of years, and to see you continue it, despite the culture you were forced to endure, is a prime example that we can only aspire to. Your people honor the tenets of the
Lady
in the truest sense of
Her
teachings.”

Here
Temple Elect
Sartor nodded, his dark gaze meeting hers, and his smile was full of warmth. Imhara inclined her head, pulse beating rapidly. Kalan slid the journal across the wooden table toward her, his smile brief.

“Our Guild-masters have expressed great interest and have spoken favorably of a sharing of skills, with particular reference to your Gifts and healing abilities.”

Here the
Chosen
glanced at Councilor Candra. The older woman gave a succinct nod of agreement.

“And the information you’ve shared with us concerning
Na’Rei
Savyr will prove valuable in the coming days. I tell you this so that you’ll understand the Council does acknowledge a truce may be possible with the Kaal Clan. We can see the benefits of everything you’ve shared with us.”

Imhara’s heart rate lifted, and she swallowed against a dry throat, wishing she dared take a sip of water from the cup in front of her.

Kalan’s gaze swept over the room, and for the first time, a shadow flickered through his gaze. “The Council though has decided that a truce is inadvisable at this time.”

Every muscle in her went tight as the meaning of his words sank in. She clenched her hands beneath the table, unable to think for several heartbeats after the announcement.

The majority had voted against the truce?

Her request had been denied?

“What?” Arek’s startled outburst echoed the shock beginning to settle into her body.

What sort of future did that mean for her Clan? Where did that leave her? Her parents’ legacy?

“I see.” Barely a thread of sound came from her throat.

“Well, I don’t!” Arek rose from his chair, shaking his head. He leaned across the table, blue eyes glittering. “What do you mean you’ve voted against the request? What are the last few minutes of that speech supposed to mean?” Every word cut through the air like a knife. “You build up the Kaal Clan’s hope and now dash it with an unfavorable result? That’s coldhearted and cruel, Kalan!”

Arek’s impassioned words made Imhara’s throat close over.

“Arek.” She reached for his hand, her smile brittle. “Let him finish speaking.”

His fingers twined with hers, his grip hard. The skin over his cheekbones pulled tight as his jaw flexed.

Yet the tension in the air didn’t just radiate from him. It came from across the table as well, but again with so many odors fighting for dominance in the air, Imhara had trouble distinguishing whom the tension belonged to.

“We received a message two days ago from the Commander of the border patrol post in Tianda. The
Na’Reish
have started their assault on our territory.” Here Kalan glanced to Imhara. “An advanced force of nearly a thousand
Na’Hord
have been spotted crossing Whitewater River at one of the locations you identified,
Na
Kaal. They’ve set up an encampment on our side of the border. Tianda was attacked night before last. The war has begun.”

Imhara’s heart pounded and an icy shiver ran through her as she shared a look with Rassan. Arek sank into his seat, cursing under his breath.

Shadows flickered in the green depth of Kalan’s gaze. “This decision to delay the truce between our peoples has not been made lightly,
Na
Kaal.” His tone turned bleak. “With war now upon us, the Council feels our efforts must first be to protect our border.”

“The Kaal have resources that can help you.” Arek’s voice was gruff. “Surely you all can see that!”

“They do but you’re forgetting what happened when we tried to move too fast with an alliance before, Commander. The conflict brought about by such a change almost tore us apart. The Council are concerned that this could happen again at a time when our focus needs to be on the border.” Kalan grimaced and his voice softened. “I’m sorry, Imhara. Please understand our position.

“Personally, and I know several here share my view, I would agree to the truce in a heartbeat. Yet I serve . . . we all serve others outside this chamber who won’t or can’t accept such swift changes, and now more than ever, the people need stability.” He drew in a deep breath. “When you’re ready to leave, you’ll be given safe passage to return across the border.”

Imhara pushed to her feet, every limb feeling heavy. The strident scraping of the chair on the floor raked across raw nerves. For half a heartbeat, she thought about appealing their decision. Glancing at each Councilor, she took in each expression, gauging her chances.

Some were stoic, others resolute. Some like Annika, Kalan, Sartor, and Candra were unhappy. That was some consolation, given she’d enjoyed the brief time she’d spent getting to know them.

The truth though sent a cold shiver down her spine. Her heart thudded painfully in her chest.

There would be no truce.

Despite Kalan’s encouraging words of possible future negotiations, conflict had a way of pushing other priorities aside. A war with the
Na’Reish
would last months, perhaps years.

As for what it meant for her personally . . .

Light
, the pain in her heart was enough to steal her breath.

Any future she imagined sharing with Arek was gone, stolen by a duty that bound him to Sacred Lake. His oath to protect his people would send him to war with the
Na’Reish
.

Without a truce, there would be no visits. No chance for her to see him. And no point in pursuing a relationship that couldn’t be sustained. Her throat closed over.

Like a candle in a windstorm, the last of her hope spluttered and died.

Reaching out, Imhara smoothed her fingers over the leather-bound journal Kalan had pushed toward her. Her hands shook as she lifted it.

Instead of hope she’d return home with nothing but bad news.

Merciful Mother
, she’d condemned them all to total isolation.

And, in time, death.

Everything she’d fought for, every sacrifice made, every life lost to get to this point now seemed such a waste. She’d failed her people again.

She should feel angry, disappointed, sad.

Something.

Instead she just felt tired. Drained.

And . . . empty.

“Then we’ll leave first thing tomorrow morning.” Imhara swallowed hard and forced more strength into her voice. “For what it’s worth,
Chosen
, the Kaal Clan will defend against any
Na’Reish
incursion, and we will assist any Light Blade patrol at our border. Kaal territory will be a safe haven for any human or
Na’Chi
, regardless of the Blade Council’s decision.” She met his gaze. “Even if you don’t see it, the
Na’Reish
are as much our enemy as yours.”

“I understand.” Kalan inclined his head. “Thank you,
Na
Kaal.”

“Perhaps, in time, the Council might reconsider its decision.” The words were as hollow as she felt. The ghost of a smile curved her lips. “Until then, may the
Lady
protect and bless us all.”

For the first time, she found no comfort in the familiar salutation. Turning on her heel, she nodded to Rassan and headed for the exit. She left Arek sitting at the table, unable to look at him and keep control of herself. She didn’t want to see his outrage or empathy. The scent of both was strong enough to make her step falter as it was.

Outside the chamber their Light Blade sentries rose from the benches. The walk back to their quarters was in silence. Every step closer to the room grew harder and harder. As one of the Light Blade warriors pushed open the wooden door, those who had come with her across the border, spurred on by their shared dream, turned where they sat or stood, their expressions expectant.

Hopeful.

Imhara paused on the threshold, her fingers numb as they gripped the journal tighter. Rassan’s hand came to rest on her shoulder.

“Remember,
She
walks with us, Imhara,” he murmured. “This path might end here, but our journey continues, just in a different direction.”

But which direction?

For so long she’d moved them all along one path, their destination clear; now they stood at a cliff edge with no discernible or alternate route.

They couldn’t go forward. The Blade Council ensured that.

They couldn’t go back. The
Na’Reish
would never welcome them. Every member of their Clan now had a price on their head.

No alternate answer was forthcoming. Perhaps in time the
Lady
would reveal
Her
path for them. Meanwhile, endurance seemed to be the lesson of the day.

“We’ve faced difficult times before.” Her Second squeezed her shoulder. “We can do it again. Just have faith that
She
will show us the way rather than trying to guess it now.”

Imhara gave a half laugh, half grunt. “You’re scary when you do that, you know?”

“Do what?”

“Know what I’m thinking.”

His soft chuckle warmed her. “Come on, let’s tell everyone together.”

Together.

The word gave Imhara the strength she needed, at least for now.

Taking a deep breath, and with Rassan at her side, she stepped into the room to deliver the less than satisfactory news.