Blood of the Guardian (30 page)

As evening came, the sun fell behind the trees, and the light of Brim faded. He opened his eyes, and everything sharpened and cleared. He’d been more depleted than he’d realized.

Kat sat propped against a tree, staring at him as she held a book in her hand. She stood, dropping the book, and walked toward him. Relief pulsed from her emotions, along with something else. Not desire, but ... Nolan sucked in a breath.
She’s falling in love with me?

She smiled. “You look better.”

“I feel good.”

Her eyes dropped from his chest and fixed on his abdomen. Nolan followed her gaze. A mass of scars covered what had once been smooth skin. She raised her hand and touched it.

The contact sent fire through his veins. He’d been touched so little in the past few weeks, it heightened the sensation. Even more so because the touch was from
her
. He tried not to move. She didn’t mean anything by it. She was only curious, that’s all.

“Is this from the gypsies?” she asked.

“I was healing too slow. Caused a lot of scars.”

“So many … ”

Her hand dropped to her side, but her eyes still examined him. Suddenly, Nolan wished he had more clothes.

“How’d they catch you?” she finally asked.

“Jezebelle left tainted wine in my room in Faylinn. I had a glass, and the next thing I knew, she’d caged me.”

Kat’s eyes snapped up, meeting his. Shock and horror spilled from her emotions. “She had you then? We all believed you’d left on your own.”

“On my own? Why in Brim’s name would I leave on my … ” Realization struck him.
They thought I’d left because of Megan.

He ran a hand over his face. He’d been depressed, yes—but not because of Megan. He was happy for his friends’ marriage, but it was a hard bite to swallow. They had each other, and he could never have anyone. Never hold a woman in his arms. Never raise a family.

He could feel Kat’s eyes on him, waiting for him to respond, probably believing he was wallowing in self-pity over the loss of Megan. If only it were as simple as unreciprocated love.

“Has anyone told you what else happened since you left?” Kat asked, breaking through his thoughts.

“Happened?”

“Back in Faylinn. The murders? The war?”

Nolan stared. He knew nothing.

She shared with him about the night of his abduction. The capture of Rayen, her rescue, and Alec’s involvement.

“King Kamalin is dead?”

“And his honor guard, too,” she added. “Maska suspects the Talasians will return for war.”

Suddenly, his time in the cage seemed even more pointless. He’d missed far too much while wallowing helplessly behind bars. “And Alec almost died?”

“Twice,” Kael’s voice added.

Greer and Kael approached. Kael sported his typically cocky grin.

“Twice?”

“They shot him with an arrow,” Kael said. “And before that, a Strength Rol’dan smashed his head in—the same injury that killed a dozen others. The boy certainly has a hard head.” Admiration pulsed from Kael’s emotions.

“Kael? Have you started … liking Alec?”

“No! Of course not! The boy is irritating and hotheaded.”

Nolan grinned. “We were talking about Alec, not you.”

Kat snorted. “I need to get on patrol.”

“You better, Lieutenant,” Kael said, amusement poking through his smug face.

One of the Rol’dan soldiers appeared in front of them, saluting and then dropping his arm. “General, sir.”

“Yes, Finsen. Report.”

“We’ve released the creatures, as you requested. The two-headed … uh … thing, we put into the swamp.” He motioned toward the cage where Nolan had stayed. A half a dozen gypsies filled the space. “Any suggestions about what we should do with them?”

“I suppose we
should
take them back to Faylinn. Question them and put them on trial. But crows! They’ll slow us. Part of me wants to kill the lot of them.”

“May I make a suggestion, Master Kael?” Greer said, his voice tight.

“Please do. I welcome any suggestions.”

“You could always let them go.”

“Let them go?” Kael glared. “Did you see what they did to Nolan?”

“If I am not mistaken, you killed the man who had injured him, as well as the girl in charge.”

Nolan grabbed Kael’s arm. “Wait. You killed him?”

“The spearman? Of course. He attacked me.”

“What was his name?”

“You mean the man thrusting a spear at my face? I didn’t have time to ask him his name.”

Nolan’s shoulders sagged. He barely knew the young man, but he had kept Nolan alive.

“For the most part, the gypsies are harmless,” Greer said.

Kael crossed his arms over his chest. “They’ve gained powers. How are they harmless? Besides, one of those men had also jabbed Nolan. You expect me to let him go?”

“There’s another?” Nolan asked.

“Of course. There were two: the one stupid enough to fight me and then the other.”

“Which one did you kill?” Nolan asked, hopeful.

“A gypsy,” Kael said. “Brim’s sake, Nolan. Does it matter?”

It did matter. “Let me see him.”

Kael held his hand out in an exaggerated flourish. “This way.”

They stepped toward the cage. Some who’d been sitting abruptly stood, fear pulsing from their emotions. Kael pointed to a man hunched in the corner, his eye bruised and swollen. Nolan sighed with relief. Tibel.

“He’s your other spearman, right?” Kael asked. “Surely we can’t let
him
go.”

“Actually,” Nolan said, “he saved my life.”

“The twit kept stabbing you with a spear. I
watched
him do it.”

Nolan cocked a brow. “How long were you watching before you decided to save me?”

Kael opened his mouth and snapped it closed. “We … uh … we had to figure out what we were up against.”

“If it hadn’t been for him, I would’ve died while you tried to figure things out.”

Kael stared at Nolan, shock pulsing from him. He didn’t realize how close Nolan had been to dying. He shook his head, his scowl returning. Jabbing a finger toward Tibel, he said, “So
he
saved you?”

“He has Accuracy. He targeted where it would cause the least amount of damage. He gave me the time I needed and kept the other man from killing me.”

Several of the gypsies cast side glances at Tibel, irritated. Gypsies considered loyalty an important aspect of their culture. Apparently, Tibel may have broken some rules or vows in his attempts to help Nolan.
I shouldn’t have said something in front of the others.
“Matter of fact, I think we should let him go right now.”

“Right now?” Kael barked. “All of them?”

“No. Just him.”

“I agree,” Greer said.

Kael gawked at them like they’d gone insane. He, of course, didn’t have Empathy and couldn’t see how much trouble the boy was in.

“Open the cage,” Nolan ordered.

Kael cursed, fumbled in a small pocket on his leather jerkin, and pulled out a key. He glared at the prisoners. “If any of you try to escape, your head will be detached from your neck before you even realize it.” He pointed at Tibel. “You. Come here.”

Kael jammed the key into the lock and turned. Tibel stood, maneuvering through the scowling people surrounding him. As soon as Kael opened the door, he slid out, and Kael relocked it.

Tibel’s eyes darted from one of them to the other, pausing longest on Greer. Finally, he turned to Nolan. “W-what do you want with me?”

“You’re free to go.”

His eyes dropped to Nolan’s scarred stomach, doubt pulsing from his emotions.

Nolan leaned toward him. “I know what you did. Thank you.”

Tibel’s dark eyes snapped up and met his. Understanding passed between them. With a quick nod, Tibel turned, walking briskly, and then breaking into a run. At the end of the clearing, he grabbed a spear impaled in the ground and disappeared into the woods.

Kael reached for his sword.

“Kael,” Nolan scolded.

“He took a weapon.”

“And how is he supposed to defend himself without one?”

“We should have invited the young man back to Faylinn,” Greer said.

“The one who just ran away with his tail between his legs?” Kael said. “Talasians get along fabulously in Faylinn. I’m sure their gypsy counterparts will fit in just as well! The Rol’dan might even throw a party for him while they’re waiting for war.”

Despite Kael’s sarcasm, he was right. Maska had a hard time staying alive, even
with
his Strength. Tibel would come into an “accident” within a week.

Nolan wished he could do more for him than setting him loose in the forest. The people of Adamah didn’t take to the gypsies well; the gypsies always survived by sticking together. Even if he didn’t care for the gypsies much—especially now—Tibel was different from the others. He’d stepped up to protect Nolan, even if he’d done so in a subtle way. He’d helped Nolan when Rikar could do no more.

Nolan stared at the empty cage where Rikar had lived, possibly for years. What happened to him? If not for the Guardian, Nolan would’ve died days ago. He most likely left as soon as Greer stepped into the clearing—there were ill feelings between them, whatever they were. Nolan wondered if he’d ever see Rikar again.

Nolan turned to the others, still thinking of the Guardian. Greer’s light-filled eyes glared at him, hard as stones.

“Greer?”

“Master Nolan. Might I have a private word with you?”

Nolan’s mind raced. If he didn’t know better, he’d say Greer was angry. But why? Realization smacked him.
Oh … Greer reads minds.

Greer took the lead across the camp, not waiting for Nolan’s response.

“What’s wrong with him?” Kael asked.

Nolan forced a smile. “We’ll talk later.” And then he turned and quickly followed the brooding Guardian.

The sunlight faded in the sky, casting red and orange hues through the branches of the trees. A pair of Rol’dan soldiers laughed near a fire; a wild bird sizzled over the flames. Nolan paused for just a moment, enjoying the smell—he was hungry. But Greer kept going. He entered the tent where Nolan had awoken earlier, disappearing inside.

Nolan’s stomach grumbled. He sighed, reluctantly pulling away from the prospect of food, and followed Greer.

When he pushed open the tent flap, Greer waited, his glow providing the light for the small space. His large arms crossed his chest.

Greer’s jaw tightened. “Why did you not tell me of Rikar?”

Nolan pulled out a chair and sat. “I meant to tell you. I just didn’t know how.”

Greer inhaled, closing his eyes. When he opened them, he seemed calmer. More in control. “Forgive me, Master Nolan. I lost my temper.”

Nolan smiled. He liked to see Greer more human, even if the emotion was anger. “Rikar told me you’d react like this.”

“Did he?”

“I mentioned you and the others, and then I invited him to Faylinn.”

Greer grunted; it almost sounded like a laugh. “And his response?”

Nolan examined his fingernails and picked out dried blood and dirt. “He said he needed to stay, that it was better for him to be locked in a cage.”

“And how did he save you? In your mind, you stated you would have died without him.”

“My light was depleted. He shared his with me.”

Greer straightened, dropping his arms to his sides. “How did he accomplish this?”

Nolan swallowed, remembering Rikar’s sliced finger and the taste of Guardian blood.

Greer nodded. He must’ve gleaned enough information from Nolan’s thoughts. “At least he has done something worthwhile for a change.”

Nolan stood and stepped to a dressing table. What had happened between the two Guardians? Perfume bottles were lined up neatly in a row. Nolan rearranged them absentmindedly. It used to be a woman’s tent, obviously. Possibly even Jezebelle’s. He opened a bottle, and the smell of lavender and cinnamon wafted into the room. Nolan snorted and replaced the lid. It was Jezebelle’s tent after all.

Pushing aside the bottles, he instead lifted a jeweled mirror, avoiding his own reflection. He looked over the top of it at Greer, hesitated, and then finally asked, “What did Rikar do?”

“If I wanted to share, I would have done so already.”

Nolan set the mirror down slowly. Greer had never withheld anything from him before.

Greer’s frown faded into sympathy. “Master Nolan. You would not like what you learn.”

A commotion stirred outside. Voices yelling. Cursing. Nolan flipped open the flap of the tent and saw all twelve Rol’dan gathered in the clearing. What was going on?

As Nolan approached them, he saw Kat holding a bruised and struggling Tibel.