Alliance Forged (42 page)

“Would those living here aid Light Blades?” Zaune inquired, tone low. “They weren’t particularly helpful this morning during the search.”

“If you paid them enough, they’d do almost anything,” Kalan replied, dryly. “Unfortunately, those who live here are either the very
poor, the destitute, or are lawbreakers and the chit holds sway over their conscience, not empathy.” He grimaced. “But when you’re hungry, you’ll do anything to survive, even if it means sacrificing your morals.”

His softly spoken statement rang true with all of them. Clouds chose that moment to cross the path of the sun. The resulting dimness and cooler conditions sent a shiver skipping down Varian’s spine. It could take them days to search every inch of this place. Kymora didn’t have that sort of time.

“What now?” Jinnae asked, her thin face drawn tight.

“Kalan.” Varian nodded to the man’s left, toward the boy observing them.

The Light Blade swiveled but made no move to go toward the boy. “Seen anything interesting around here this morning?” he asked.

The corners of the boy’s mouth twitched. “Lotsa interestin’ things. Me mam chasin’ me brother with his britches… took her half the mornin’ to catch ’im.” He shrugged a thin shoulder and came to the edge of the porch. “He don’t like wearin’ ’em.”

His scent carried to Varian on the breeze. Beneath the unwashed odor of dirt and sweat, he detected the sharp scent of interest.

Kalan’s eyes crinkled. “How old is your brother?”

“Three.”

“My mother had the same problem with me.” He took a step forward. “What’s your name?”

The boy straightened. “Ryn.”

“I’ve two chits you can earn, Ryn.”

“What for?”

“Have you seen any Light Blades anywhere near here this morning? Anyone with a woman who was blind?”

“Light Blades. Nah. Didn’t see none. No blind woman, either.” The youngster’s mouth pulled to one side. “Saw almost a dozen people, fancy dressed like you though.”

Kalan flipped him one chit. “Where?”

Ryn caught it, then pointed down the road headed to the docks. “The alley by the portico.” Two more chits tumbled through the air. His face lit up in surprise as he caught them.

Kalan gave a nod. “Let’s go.”

“Hey!” Ryn took a step off the porch. “That group I seen? One of ’em was carrying a bag over ’is shoulder. It were the size of a woman….”

Barely three people wide, the alley’s cobblestones were coated with all sorts of filth that squished underfoot. A gutter ran along one side and putrid slimy water gurgled into a busted drain farther along. Varian took the lead, trying to filter through the countless odors assaulting his nostrils. Some of them were stale and weeks old. As they passed a shadowed doorway, a dank draft wafted out.

“Varian!” Zaune’s hiss came at the same time he scented fresh blood. He backtracked to the door. The younger scout’s gaze glowed crimson. “The renegade was carried in here.”

A quick scan of the building showed the doorway to be the only entrance. He pressed his ear up against it. Very faint scuffling sounds came from within. Humans or rodents?

“Taybor, Jinnae, you stay with the
Chosen
. Do not leave his side,” he ordered, voice low. He glanced to Kalan. “There will be no guarantees. If they threaten you or one of us, we’ll take them out.”

The warrior’s emerald gaze gleamed in the ambient light. “Do what you have to.”

Varian closed his eyes and drew in a deep breath, then turned his thoughts inward, toward the darkness in his soul. The beast was there, lurking, the anger and fury contained but seething, waiting for the chance to rise, rend, and take revenge.

He released the leash. It surged; violent emotions crashed through him, racked his body, all reacting to the knowledge that Kymora’s life was in danger. A scream of rage echoed in his mind. With every
rapid beat of his heart, adrenaline pumped through his body, his skin began to heat, his senses intensified.

The faintest, familiar fragrance of honeyed spice lingered in the air. Every hair on his neck rose.

“She’s here.” Gravelly and rough, his voice still quavered with excitement.

Varian opened his eyes; this time he welcomed the crimson- and red-edged hues in the objects around him. A single thought, the image of Kymora as he’d last seen her, filled his mind. Within half a heartbeat, the chaos inside him changed; the energy morphed from a need for vengeance to the desire to protect what was his. For the first time, he and his darker half were in agreement.

Zaune’s hand grasped his shoulder. His mouth curled into a grim smile. “Let’s hunt.”

T
HE barest flutter of sensation, a vibration, brushed against Kymora’s mind. She cried out, quivering as she held her breath, praying the sensation hadn’t been a figment of her imagination, but as her pulse settled into a steady rhythm again, tears prickled behind her eyes.

She was going mad. Shewasgoingmad.
Shewasgoingmad.
…

She sucked in air through her nose. Rapid, short, sharp breaths.
Slow down.
Breathe in, hold, breathe out. Her inhalations lengthened, became more deliberate. Cool air filled her lungs.

Control each breath. Control your thoughts. Control your body.

Exhaustion hovered at the edge of her mind, but to give in and sleep carried the risk of missing someone nearby.

Kymora focused again and continued whispering one of her favorite scriptures against the gag in her mouth. “We all look to you,
Mother of Wisdom and Mercy
,
You
are the provider of all things good,
You
give us Light and deliver us from Darkness,
You
are our Strength—”

A spike of terror stabbed at her mind. She froze. There was no way that had been her imagination. It had depth and intensity. She counted her breaths, waiting. Who was out there? How close were they?

Another harsh gouge punctured her shield. More bombarded her, deluging her Gift like a glass of water drunk too fast. She flinched but soaked in the fierce sensations, glorying in the agonizing touch of reality after enduring its absence. The ensemble of impressions lacked harmony. She couldn’t sort through them to figure who might be out there.

She didn’t care. She screamed, hoping whoever it was could hear her. And she kept screaming, determined to last as long as the sensations kept coming, too frightened to stop and return to the darkness in her mind.

THE building proved to be one where several houses joined together in a bizarre melding of workmanship. The first three rooms were each a house with a door cut into its back wall. That door led to another house.

Pausing by the fourth one, Varian tested the air for Kymora’s scent. It was getting stronger and it mingled with other odors. Cooking food, people, blood. The murmur of voices also came from the other side of the thick wooden door.

With a throat-shredding roar, he shouldered his way through it. One swift glance showed him nearly a dozen men and women scattered around the room, some seated in front of a small fireplace, others at a table pushed into a corner, some lying on pallets on the floor.

The closest humans to the door clambered to their feet, reaching for their weapons. Shouts, the scraping of metal from leather sheaths, and
Na’Chi
war cries filled the air. Behind him the other scouts launched into the fray.

The darkness inside him exulted in the heat and rush of the fierce fighting. His first opponent, he knocked out cold with one powerful back sweep of his fist. The second he hauled from her feet and sent her crashing against the wall. When she hit the floor, she never moved. The next warrior came at him with a dagger drawn.

A silent snarl shaped the man’s mouth, his broad face flushed with hatred. Varian blocked his first thrust and caught the other arm in a forearm clinch. He twisted. The man howled. Bone snapped. The renegade dropped to his knees. Varian locked both hands around his other arm and twisted again. Bone cracked. He shoved the man away from him, sent him sprawling onto his back.

Honey and spice, thick and rich, coated his senses. He could taste it on his tongue as he sucked it into his lungs. Left, right. Stronger to the right. Beyond the chaos of bodies locked in combat, there stood another door. Frustration clawed his gut. The place was worse than a digger-burrow.

Avoiding the struggling combatants left on their feet, he strode for the doorway. It gave under his shove. Thick with shadows, the room reeked of blood and death. A dark figure lay in one corner. Heart pumping, Varian rushed to it, but as he rolled it toward him, he knew it wasn’t Kymora.

Kalan appeared in the doorway, flanked by Taybor and Jinnae. “Is it…?”

“No,” he grated out. “His scent belongs to the Light Blade we’ve been tracking. He’s dead.” Unsurprising. Satisfying. He shot a savage grin toward the human leader. “One less rebel to worry about,
Chosen
.”

“Then where is she?” Tension threaded every word.

Zaune shoved his way into the room, blood streaming down his face from a split across his brow. “Six dead, four down. All rebels accounted for,” he panted. “Yari’s injured but all right. Everyone else is fine. Surprise certainly helped us.”

Varian nodded, swiveling on his knee in the dust as he scanned the floor. “What’s that?” A small square section of floorboards lay at a right angle to the rest. He unsheathed his dagger and pried at the niche. The wood creaked but lifted to reveal a hole. Cool air brushed against his hands. Someone passed him a lantern from the other room.

Kalan joined him, kneeling on the other side of the hole. “Looks like a catacomb.” He grunted. “They’re used to bury the dead. See the holes in the walls?”

Varian handed Kalan the lantern. “Kymora’s scent is strongest here.”

He dropped into the catacomb. His boots hit the hard-packed floor with a sharp thud. A millennia of dust puffed out from underneath them. The place smelled of the dead, dry and musty. Despite the dimness of light, he counted just over a dozen holes in the walls. Wrapped bodies filled eight of them.

Inhaling again, he traced Kymora’s scent to the only shroud-covered body on the bottom row. There was no odor of death.

His gut clenched.
Blessed Mother
, had they buried her alive? The cold logic of the rebel who’d planned this ripped through him. Had their plan succeeded, they’d have freed Davyn. If it’d failed, Kymora might never have been found. A growl rumbled in his chest.

He reached into the hole. Hooking his fingers into the canvas, he pulled. A muffled scream stopped his heart.

“Kymora!” He gritted his teeth, and with one final yank, she was free of the grave.

He tore open the head covering. Her dust-coated face appeared. Her emerald eyes were wide open, terror haunting their depths. He placed trembling fingers to her cheek. Her body convulsed, then arched. Tears welled in her eyes. He pried the rags from her mouth, then tore them from her head.

Gagged, bound, and shrouded.

The horror of what she must have endured ripped into him. Just
how close he’d come to losing her sank in. He wanted to yell and howl, but the terror shaking her body kept his fury contained.

“You’re safe, Kymora,” he whispered, and peeled more of the shroud away from her head, freeing it so she could feel the air on her hot cheeks.

Her lips were stretched wide in a silent scream, her voice so hoarse he could barely hear her. He stroked her sweat-soaked hair back off her face.

“You’re safe.” He threw back his head. “Zaune get down here. I need your help.”

In minutes she was free. Her legs wouldn’t hold her, so he gathered her against him, supporting all of her weight as he cradled her against his chest.

His heart ached as she ran her hands over him, tears pouring down her cheeks. Her fingers shook so badly he had to help her place them on the side of his face. Her touch never felt so good.

“Varian!” The whisper of sound came from a tortured throat. “Thank the
Lady…”

“Shh, don’t speak.” He smoothed a finger over her lips. “I’m here. Kalan’s here. You’re safe.” He pressed a kiss to her temple. “I love you. Let’s get you home.”

“Y
OU said you loved me,
Na’Chi
.”

The soft, lilting voice came from behind Varian and alerted him to another visitor on the wall walkway running behind the Light Blade compound. Not that he hadn’t heard the gentle
tap-tap-tap
of her staff as she made her way up the flight of stairs or caught her honey and spices scent on the late afternoon breeze.

The glacial lake made a stunning backdrop to the activities going on along the shoreline, but he turned away from it and took in another of nature’s beautiful creations as she made her way toward him.

“I did.” The gut-freezing vulnerability was easing the more he admitted to loving Kymora. To himself. To her and to those dearest to them. Denying or hiding his love for her was no longer an option, not after coming so close to losing her. Nothing could be worse than that.

After getting her out of the catacomb and to the hospice, he’d spent a long night sitting vigil over her as she recovered from her ordeal. Not even Candra’s halfhearted threat of infecting him with
pox could move him from her side. He’d wanted to be there when she woke from a nightmare, to comfort her, to wipe the tears from her face and then hold her and whisper how much he loved her until she fell asleep again. Every time she needed him.

The blessed times. The heartbreaks. The trials.

From now on, he wanted to share everything with her.

With unerring accuracy Kymora walked straight up to him and slid her arms around his waist to squeeze him tight. He shut his eyes and counted, a grin pulling at his lips.

“Well?” she asked. “Will you tell me again?”

The wind chose then to eddy around them. The gust caught the long strands of Kymora’s hair and whipped them around her face. He caught them and curled them around his fist until his hand cupped the back of her head.

Varian placed his forehead against hers. He inhaled her scent and let it wrap around his heart, more than willing to be tied to her in such a unique way. Even his other half craved that connection now. Melding would take time but it was working. Kymora had helped him see that his other half wasn’t something to be feared.