Lines of Fire (The Guild House - Defenders Hall) (20 page)

With a flurry of activity they undressed. Alric spread the blanket rolls and pulled her into his arms. She moved until she lay atop him. Her mouth fastened on his neck. Alric felt the draw and tightened his arms around her. He rolled her to her back and kissed his way down her body, stopping to lavish attention on her breasts.

Kalia’s whimpers and small cries spurred him. He lifted her legs to his shoulders and found her mound. Her scent engulfed him. Her cries increased the working of his mouth and tongue on her labia.

“Alric, please, please.”

“I’m trying.”

“Join with me.”

He lowered her legs and thrust inside. As her channel tightened around him, he wondered if he would ever grow tired of these moments. She moved. So did he. Heat burned through him and became volcanic. He spewed until he felt drained and collapsed on her.

“Love you,” he gasped.

“Love you, too.”

When his breathing returned to normal he rolled to his side. In the fading light of the sun he saw the red blotch on Kalia’s neck. He rubbed his fingers over the area and though the lines flowed there, the mark remained a scarlet flame. He groaned.

“What?” Kalia asked.

“The mark on your neck.”

“You have one, too. How odd. Though the lines gather I can’t make the mark fade.”

He laughed. “Wonder how long it will last.”

“Guess we’ll learn.”

He reached for his clothes. “We’d better dress and prepare a meal. Then an early night. We must be off at dawn.”

* * *

Glints of the light of dawn filtered through the leaves of the huge oak. Alric reached for his clothes and touched Kalia’s shoulder. “Time to get ready to ride.” He glanced at the mark on her neck and noticed it had remained the same bright scarlet color. Another thing they had to search for in the Archives.

Kalia moaned and opened her eyes. Her languid stretch made him want to make love again but dawdling wasn’t on the day’s agenda.

They finished the stew from the previous night. Kalia drank three mugs of kafa and cleaned the things they’d used. Alric saddled Storm Cloud and started to load the pack beast.

A faint cry made him pause to listen. Was someone calling for help? He vaulted into the saddle. “Break camp. I think someone’s in trouble.” He flicked the reins.

“Be careful,” Kalia cried. “Could be a trap.”

Was she right? Alric pushed his bihorn into a gallop. The cries were louder. Did it matter if this was a trap? Defenders always answered cries for help. Storm Cloud raced around a bend and along a straight section of the road. Only the pounding of hooves against the dirt and the now louder cries of a woman filled Alric’s ears. Sunlight blurred his vision. The tall spruces and bushy maples and oaks lining the road formed a green and brown tunnel.

As Storm Cloud rounded a second bend, Alric spotted a clearing. The screaming died. He focused on a scene that made him ill. Two men held a woman down while a third rocked above her. Chilling soprano laughter sounded. The third man bellowed his release. The lines of fire on the victim’s skin were pale and thready. Had she been drained the way Kalia said the Swordmaster treated her mother.

As Alric leaped from his bihorn he drew his sword and knife. He raced toward the three. He slashed the arm of one of the men holding the woman still. The man yelled and grabbed his companion. The pair fled down the road. A pair of bihorns ran after them.

Alric turned to face the kneeling man. He leaped to his feet and pulled a sword free.

“Valdon.” The name erupted in an angry roar. This man had nearly caused Alric’s death. This time there would be no holding back for this was no duel, but a fight for justice. Alric whirled his sword and cut Valdon’s shirt and marked his chest a half dozen times. The banished man backed away. Alric followed wielding his sword. He aimed for Valdon’s knife hand and with a quick slice severed the hand from the wrist. Blood fountained. Valdon screamed and fell.

As Alric gulped deep breaths he heard the woman’s laughter again. He stared. “Ilna, will you be next?”

“Not a chance. Take him.”

Alric thought he heard Kalia scream. Impossible. He’d left her at their camp.

He whirled and evaded the whistling sword aimed at his back. “Petan.” As Kalia had predicted this was an ambush. For a few moments they exchanged a flurry of blows. Alric moved aside to avoid a vicious thrust, caught his opponent’s sword and missed seeing the hilt of a knife aimed at his head. He stumbled over Valdon’s body and fell.

Alric struggled to roll away and got to his feet, but the body impeded him. His vision blurred. Something dark moved toward his head. A second blow connected. He fought descending darkness.

A trap. Kalia had been right. He had galloped to the rescue. Petan had won this time and maybe for all time. Aloud or in his thoughts the words rang.

* * *

Kalia watched Alric gallop away. All her instincts cried trap. Why hadn’t he waited for her? Two stood a better chance than one, no matter how skilled he was with sword and knife.

While her thoughts churned, she grabbed the lead rope of the pack beast before the animal followed Storm Cloud. She tied the rope to a tree, saddled Mist and mounted.

How far ahead was her bondmate? As she sent Mist into a gallop the faint cries for help grew louder. What would she do when she reached the scene? Who knew how many outlaws they would face?

Thoughts of fighting roiled her gut. She wasn’t a coward. Not long ago, she had faced Ilna in the circle. Meeting the outlaws wasn’t like a duel in the salle. There were no rules and she would face desperate men.

Mist continued forward. Around a bend, down a straight, another bend, always pushing her steed for speed. As she neared the third bend, the scream stopped. How much longer before she reached the scene? Had Alric saved the woman or had she died?

Ahead, she saw Alric fighting a dark-haired man. Two others fled. A shout of encouragement to the man Alric fought startled Kalia. What was Ilna doing here?

Abruptly the fight ended in a spurt of blood. Alric’s foe’s hand flew from his body. He collapsed.

“Take him,” Ilna shouted.

“Alric, beware!” Had he heard her? Had the warning distracted him?

He wheeled and the sword Petan swung missed. For a short time they thrust and parried. Then Alric caught his opponent’s sword and pushed it away.

“No,” Kalia cried as the knife hit Alric’s head and he stumbled over the bodies and fell.

Kalia slid from the saddle and ran to him. Petan aimed a booted foot and connected with Alric’s head. Kalia reached her bondmate and lifted his head to her lap. The bleeding stopped. She touched his chest and felt the slow steady beat of his heart. She looked up to see Petan ready to plunge his sword into Alric’s chest.

“Do it. Do it,” Ilna chanted. “Kill him. Kill the man who was responsible for my banishment.”

Kalia stared at Petan. “You killed him,” she screamed. “What am I going to do? How can I live when he’s dead?” She prayed Petan couldn’t read the lines and would believe her frantic calls. Tears rolled down her face.

Petan lowered his sword. His laughter sent chills over her skin. “If anyone would know he’s dead, you’re the one. I know about your ability to read the lines. You should have rejected him and joined me.” He glared. “You are mine.”

Ilna ran to them and grabbed Petan’s arm. “Kill her too. Kill her for me.”

“Not a chance.” He shook free and backhanded Ilna and set her flying to the ground. “Not a chance. She’s my ticket back into the Hall. She’s my way to prove my worthiness to the one who judges me.”

Kalia lowered her gaze. “Worthy to whom?” She hadn’t meant to speak aloud.

Petan grinned. “A powerful being you’ll meet in time.”

"What will you gain by returning me to the Hall?”

“Leadership of the Defenders.” He reached for Ilna and grabbed her hair. “Though this git gifted Robec, he hasn’t the inner strength to rule. The one I follow will reward me for helping him gain control of the Defenders.”

Kalia frowned. What did he mean?

Petan released Ilna and grasped Kalia’s arm. “Get up. You’re coming with me.”

She slid Alric’s head from her lap. A puff of breath and a low moan emerged. “Why do you want me?” She raised her voice to cover Alric’s sounds.

Ilna pounded Petan’s back. “She can’t have you. I’ll be the new Swordmaster’s bondmate.”

He laughed. “I doubt Kalia will share.”

Kalia stepped away from Alric and prayed he remain silent. She dare not let her captor know her bondmate lived. Regret rocked her thoughts. The intention of their assignment had been clear. Locate the hiding place of the outlaws and report what they found. At the moment failure loomed. Alric could turn defeat into victory but not now. He was in no condition to fight.

Petan pulled her away from the bodies. He tied her hands and feet before flinging her into the bihorn in front of the saddle. He mounted behind her.

“Where are you going?” Ilna asked.

“To the gathering place to see if those two fools who ran have arrived. If you’re coming, I’m sure one of them will appreciate your talents.”

Ilna grabbed the stirrup. “Help me up. I’ll ride with you.”

He kicked her away. “Too much weight. Take one of the other bihorns.”

“Not his.”

Storm Cloud stood over Alric’s body. Did the animal know his master lived? Would that alert Petan? Kalia swallowed a sob. Ilna grasped Mist’s reins and quickly mounted. The bihorn moved in a restless dance.

Kalia grimaced. Unless the other woman was an expert rider, Mist would throw her.

Petan chuckled. “She won’t be with us for long. I know how your bihorn dislikes strangers.”

Though she wanted to speak, her position kept her from drawing enough breath to force words out. Petan’s bihorn moved forward. Kalia closed her eyes. She had to escape, but how?

Petan stroked Kalia’s back. “You are mine. Your father will be pleased when he learns I have you and Alric is dead. The Swordmaster plans to see me as Robec’s Right Hand. Won’t happen. Your father’s plans aren’t mine or the one guiding me. Before long I’ll challenge your father. The Swordmaster will die. The patrols will be forced to accept me and the Defenders will rule the Guilds and Investia.”

A time of chaos faced them, Kalia thought. The patrols, the other Guilds, the people would suffer should his plans come to pass. Petan would face challenges. Hopefully, he would lose.

Would Alric regain consciousness before they were too far from here so he could give chase? He wasn’t ready for a fight. She wanted to cry. For now she must tolerate Petan until she found a way to escape.

Mist raced past. Ilna screamed. The bihorn passed close enough to brush against Kalia.

“Watch it,” Petan shouted.

Mist reared, came down and bucked. Ilna flew from the saddle and landed on the ground. Petan’s steed shied. Kalia slid to the ground. She rolled to keep from being trampled.

Petan rode his steed away from the fallen and vaulted to the ground. He ran to Ilna and kicked her abdomen, chest and head. “Stupid git.”

As blow after blow landed Ilna screamed. Kalia stared at the scene. She expected Ilna’s lines of fire to vanish but the oddly pale lines remained.

The ebony shade of Petan’s made Kalia shudder. What would happen if those lines solidified? As he approached her, she wanted to roll away but couldn’t. Would she be his next victim?

He lifted her and tossed her on the bihorn. “She won’t bother you again.”

“Is she dead?”

“Who cares?” He prodded his steed into a walk. A short distance from Ilna’s body the bihorn entered the forest.

Tears trickled over Kalia’s face. Alric, she cried silently. Be all right. Come for me.

Chapter
14

Bright light shone in Alric’s eyes. The glow vanished to return again. With caution he opened his lids and stared at clouds skimming across the sun. Past midday. Why was he lying on the road? He moved his hands across a body. Who was there? What had happened? He tried to rise. His head throbbed with the beat of a dozen large drums. Keeping his eyes closed he eased into a sitting position.

With care he slitted his eyes open and saw the aftermath of a fight. Near the trees he saw a bihorn grazing. Was that where he’d spent the night? Why had he slept so late? A face crystallized among the fragments of memory. Kalia. The shards of recollection began to spin in random patterns like the bits of glass in the viewing tubes children loved. With a hand he touched his head and found two places where blood crusted.

As he got to his knees he couldn’t suppress a groan. Slowly he got to his feet and remained unmoving while the drumbeat became staccato and the wavering scenery slid into place. He stepped away from the bodies to reach the shade beneath a maple tree before turning to study the bodies in hopes his memories would knit.