Forest of Demons (16 page)

Kemp smiled at him, but his eyes didn’t gleam. “Your faith is a testament to us all. My Hand will take first watch; those of you who can, get some rest.”

A low murmur rippled through the cave, but no one made a move toward the tents.

Bojan sighed, reaching for his two remaining skins of red brew. “Well if we’re all going to keep watch, then we might as well do it on a glowing stomach.” He held up the skins. “Red brew all around.”

The next few hours passed quickly, filled with loosened tongue and humor. The wraiths were momentarily forgotten, and when the men finally packed up to continue on their journey, it was with renewed morale, and on a fresh blanket of snow left by the blizzard.

The discovery ship came into view a few hours later. Its mast rose into the clear sky like a beacon calling them forth.

The landscape by the coast was green and gray, and the rocks leading down to the slim strip of shingle were sharp and perilous.

The three Hands navigated the rocks with ease, their large frames moving gracefully from stone to stone, their bodies a combination of perfect balance, strength, and beauty. A warrior did not fall.

Below them on the shore, warriors exited the ship via smaller boarding boats.

So this was the ocean, and this was the three-tiered vessel that brought the perfections of the world to them. Aryan’s heart felt suddenly lighter, and his pace quickened. As they reached the base of the rocks, their feet touching shingle, the magnificent dimension of the ship could finally be appreciated. It floated on the still waters, staring smugly at them, tiny insignificant gnats that it deigned to permit on its smooth gleaming planks.

“You think we’ll ever get to sail her?” Bojan asked.

Aryan shrugged. “I don’t know about her, but if what Kemp says is true, it won’t be long before we sail something.”

Bojan frowned, looking up and down the shoreline, barren save for the discovery ship and its warriors. “So where are these new ships? This fleet—who’s building it? All the Hands are accounted for.”

“Not all.” Darius joined them. “We don’t keep account of the reserves. Only Marduk knows their assignments.”

The reserves building a new fleet somewhere on another coast was too fanciful an idea. Maybe Kemp and Darius had been misinformed.

“Come.” Darius strode across the beach toward the first boatload of warriors. He rushed forward, helping them to drag the boat onto the land.

More boats were approaching, and the warriors, taking their cue from Darius, moved forward to help.

Aryan and Bojan waded into the freezing water, gasping and laughing as its icy fingers trickled through their britches and scratched at their skin.

The warriors in the boat raised their hands, hailing them. Aryan recognized Gunhild and two of his Hand, Jarl and Miles. They looked haggard, the pale blue of their eyes eaten away by darkness.

So this was what the outside world did to you? Aryan glanced past the men into the back of the boat, his eyes finding several frightened female faces. The wind changed, carrying their cries to his ears. So many colors; hair, eyes, skin, and then his gaze snagged on eyes like fire ringed in ink, skin like gold, and hair as black as the night that came only once a year. Unlike the others her cheeks were unstained by tears, her expression murderous rather than pleading. She glared back at him with enough venom to destroy a small army.

Aryan couldn’t breathe.

Bojan slapped him on the back, leaning in to whisper in his ear. “Eyes back in your head, Chief. You have your cunny already.”

Aryan exhaled sharply, dropping his gaze. What was wrong with him? It was just a female, an exotic one for sure, but so was Mia. Then why was this one having such a profound effect on him?

Jarl climbed out of the boat, bumping forearms with Bojan and inclining his head in Aryan’s direction.

“So what do you think of our haul?” he asked.

“An exotic supply indeed,” Bojan replied. “I can only hope The Divine sees fit to bless me again.”

“Ah, yes, I recall. That was unfortunate indeed.”

Together they hauled the boat up onto the shingled shore.

Aryan turned away as they drove the women onto land like cattle, pushing them down if they tried to run. He found it uncomfortable to watch, the sounds uncomfortable to listen to. These poor females, corrupted by the outside world—they didn’t even realize that their capture was their salvation. But soon, once they had been blessed by The Divine, they would finally be at peace, cleansed and free to join Borean society.

At first Gunhild and Harlow’s Hands were reluctant to leave for The City, wanting to make camp by the coast and sleep for a few hours. But Aryan was firm, and tales of the unnatural blizzard and ice wraith attack were enough to get the group moving.

The haul consisted of seven females and four crates of exotic food, herbs, and artifacts. The females were bound together in a train, their frail bodies quaking with chill even under the furs they’d been given. The female with sunshine eyes whispered words in a strange tongue, the tone comforting and encouraging. The other women seemed to look upon her for guidance and support. She was a natural leader, it seemed. He wondered who would be deemed worthy of this gem. For the first time since being bound to Mia, he wished he was free. Guilt struck quick and sharp, staining his high cheeks and twisting his gut. The Divine had paired him with Mia, any thoughts otherwise were sacrilegious.

Kemp and Darius’s Hands prepared to board the ship, loading their supplies onto the longboats. Aryan watched, arms crossed over his chest, eager to head back to the city. Darius locked gazes with him for a long moment. A shadow crossed his face, and then he was ambling over. He jerked his head to one side ushering Aryan away from the group.

“Darius?”

Darius cleared his throat. “Listen, I understand that your faith is strong, stronger than some of the other warriors, and I like you, so I’m going to give you a piece of advice. On your return to The City, you may see things that challenge your beliefs, but remember that you are sorely outnumbered. The outside world strips us of our control, and Harlow and Gunhild’s men will not be themselves until they have been cleansed.”

Aryan stared at him, uncomprehending. What could possibly happen that would challenge him in such a way?

Darius cocked his head narrowing his eyes. “I wish I had your unquestioning conviction.” He cocked his arm and Aryan met it with his own. “May we meet again.”

“May we meet again.”

Aryan watched the longboats shrink into the distance, and the warriors board the discovery ship. Their journey was already mapped for them, pressed in ink into a sealed scroll and only to be opened once they were at sea.

The City called to him. He turned his back on the water.

The first stretch of the journey passed uneventfully. Gunhild and Harlow’s warriors were euphoric to be on land. Their haggard faces were suddenly animated, but as the first day of travel drew to a close, their mood shifted from elated to subdued and their pace slackened.

He understood that they were tired. They had been at sea for weeks, on unfamiliar land in unfamiliar territory, all in the name of The Divine. But the adventure was now over, and upon their return The City would swallow them up into anonymity. The rotations would begin and the daily grind, which to Aryan was so appealing, was something to dread for these tainted warriors. All this would fade upon cleansing, but at this moment, he empathized with their conflicted hearts.

Bojan and Cadoc had taken the lead, while Fen and Earl brought up the rear. Aryan hovered somewhere in between. He told himself it was so that he could easily converse with Gunhild and Harlow if needed, but the reality was something that he refused to acknowledge. The reality was burning eyes that seared him with their wrath. The reality was a delicate face set in firm lines that could cut steel. His palm itched to cup that face and to watch that wrath morph to desire.

They reached the cave later than anticipated, and wary of a further ice wraith attack, Aryan posted guards at its mouth.

A blanket tent was set up, and the women herded into it with a guard posted outside. Aryan worked on building a fire with the limited wood they had left in the cave storage. Someone would need to restock soon. He made a note to report to Marduk, the enforcer.

As he poured blue fluid onto the wood and set it alight, Cadoc joined him, his eyes shifty.

He spoke low so as not to be overheard. “Something’s not right, Chief.”

A shiver scaled his spine. “What do you mean?”

“I heard some of Harlow’s men talking. They don’t sound right. I think . . . I think they plan on having the women tonight.”

“What?” Aryan almost dropped the stick he was using to stoke the flames.

Cadoc shifted uncomfortably. “I think they’ve had them before. On the ship.”

Heat surged from his toes toward his head; the stick snapped. He made to stand, but Cadoc placed a hand on his arm.

“We need to tread carefully on this one,” he said. “Reason with them.”

Darius’s warning came to mind. Was this what he had been insinuating might happen? Had it happened to him? Had
Darius
been a participator? Forcing yourself on a female was not the Borean way. Violation was not permitted, and despite Darius’s warning, Aryan could not stand by and allow it to occur on his watch.

The warriors were moving about, some putting up the lattice frames that would make up their tents, some moving toward the fire, but a small group loitered outside the female tent—Jarl, Miles, Jun and Lothar. Gunhild ambled over to join them, his face solemn. Lothar jerked his head toward the tent. Gunhild sighed before nodding. The chief turned and ambled toward the fire joining Aryan.

Aryan kept his gaze fixed on the tent, his hands balling into fists as Lothar ducked inside the females’ tent. The women’s screams filled the air. Lothar reappeared, his large hand clamped around a red-haired female’s arm. Her eyes glistened, but she didn’t fight. For the first time Aryan noted the bruise on the side of her face. Lothar pulled her along, pushing her into his tent before slipping in after her.

“Make him stop,” Aryan said.

Gunhild looked up in surprise. “Who?”

“Your warrior, Lothar. Make him stop, or I will.”

Gunhild’s eyes darkened. “My men have fought hard for these treasures, and they deserve to enjoy them. It’s a just reward for their efforts.”

Aryan stared at him incredulous. “Are you really trying to justify the violation of females?”

Gunhild leaned forward. “I don’t have to justify anything to you, boy. These females are tainted. They do not matter, not until they have been cleansed.”

Aryan was at a loss for words, floundering as his mind attempted to wrap itself around Gunhild’s twisted logic.

“This is wrong.” Cadoc spoke. “These females are to be given as life-mates to your warrior brothers. You’re duty is to protect them.”

Gunhild’s lip curled cruelly. “How is your life-mate, Cadoc? I remember she was one of our finds. A favorite of mine. I had hoped she would have been gifted to me.”

Cadoc tensed.

Gunhild leaned forward, his voice lethal soft. “When is you first born due?”

Cadoc lashed out, catching the chief high on his cheek. Gunhild fell back clutching his face.

Aryan was on his feet, shocked by Cadoc’s loss of control. The warrior was usually the voice of reason. He planted himself between the warriors expecting a fight, but Gunhild simply threw back his head and laughed. “You have no idea, do you? None whatsoever, but it doesn’t matter. There’s nothing you can do.”

He pulled himself to his feet, the shadows around him shifting as his and Harlow’s men flanked him.

“There’s nothing you can do,” he said again.

Aryan considered the odds, knew they weren’t in his favor. Aside from being outnumbered, his Hand was also out skilled. These men were seasoned warriors. Their blades had kissed human skin, tasted human blood. If Aryan fought he may as well be slitting his warriors’ throats himself.

He could feel Cadoc’s eyes on him, waiting for a call to action. Aryan allowed the tension to leave his body.

“Frack!” Cadoc spun on his heel and strode toward the exit.

Gunhild smiled. “You made the right decision.”

Behind him the men began to argue among themselves. Aryan tried to block out their words, their banter, their comradeship, as they agreed on who would take which woman and in what order. Then he heard the phrase “tiger eyes.” He wasn’t sure what a tiger was but knew instinctively that it was
her
they were talking about. He couldn’t save them all, but he could save
her
.

“Wait!”

Gunhild’s head whipped up his brows snapping together. The ferocity in his eyes clawed at Aryan’s throat.

Aryan swallowed, holding up his hands. “I’ll keep my mouth shut, but in exchange I want the one with the . . . tiger eyes.”

Gunhild’s frown cleared, the danger bleeding out of his face. “Well, well. The pious Aryan succumbs to the call of his shaft.”

Aryan kept his peace, allowing the warrior to make his decision.

“Fine. You can have her first.”

“No. I don’t think you understand. I don’t want anyone else to touch her.”

Gunhild’s brows shot up. “You ask too much.”

“It’s a fair price for my Hands’ silence. A fair price to avoid unnecessary bloodshed.”

“Pah, your Hand would be slain quickly.”

Aryan allowed his lips to curve in a confident smile. “Not so quick that we wouldn’t take several of your men with us.”

Gunhild pressed his lips together.

“Come on, Chief, you can’t seriously be considering this,” Jarl said. “We could take them with our arms bound.”

Aryan sat back. “Maybe if you were well rested, maybe if you’re feet had been planted on solid earth for the last few weeks. But you’re weary, and your bodies have grown weak from lack of training.”

Jarl opened his mouth to retaliate, but Gunhild held up a hand. “No one touches Tiger Eyes!”

“Frack!” Jarl cursed.

“Crud! She’s a fighter.” Miles held up a forearm showcasing a set of neat teeth marks. “You see that? She bit me.”