Warrior Lover (Draconia Tales) (25 page)

“It looks clear, but I last saw Simon and the Draconi here. Thoren was over there,” he pointed to where he last saw his friend, “and he’d been stabbed.”

“Stabbed?” Keara’s voice came out in a high-pitched squeak instead of a whisper. He placed a finger across his lips, hoping she’d get the message.

“That’s the way it looked, although how he let Simon stab him is a mystery.” Unless one gave serious thought to Simon understanding the effects of his father’s titanium sword. A thought best left to himself for now. “Your job is to heal Thoren and get him out of here.”

“Can you transport him? Because I just learned how to transport myself. I’ve never tried taking anyone with me.”

“Best learn. Heal him up well enough and he’ll transport himself. Now go, but be careful.”

“Where are you going?”

“To make sure we’re alone.”

“How will I find you?”

“Don’t worry, I’ll find you.”

Enar touched her shoulder as he disappeared into the trees, letting the shadows claim him.

A titanium sword. Could it be? If it was the same one used to capture Fafnir, could he find it? It beat thinking of Thoren dead. Thinking of how he failed his friend. He needed that sword. Chances were good it was here in the clearing. Why else would Thoren’s powers not have worked against Simon? And the blast that killed him came from yards away from Simon and the sword he’d stabbed Thoren with.

Hiding behind a tree, Enar observed the scene. Dead men surrounded the campfire, several piled up yards away at the Draconia ward lines. Perhaps they had been too scared to venture far into Draconia, preferring instead to be close to the border in case they needed a quick way out.

Bad idea.

Their reasons didn’t matter. What mattered now was finding that sword. He knew it had to be here, knew it was what prohibited Thoren from blasting Simon into oblivion.

He was a reconnaissance specialist. How hard could it be to find a titanium sword?

And the answer? Not as hard as he thought.

Simon walked out of the woods carrying the thing, shaking his head as he looked at the carnage. Enar shrunk into the shadows, trying to merge with the tree trunk. Simon placed the sword on the ground and walked back to where he’d come from, disappearing from view.

Enar watched the shadows, waiting for Simon to pop into view again, but the scum remained hidden. Nothing moved but insects and the fire. All the better for sword retrieval. Walking as quiet as possible through the leaf-strewn ground, he snuck toward the sword. Once there, he knelt on the ground, checking for Simon.

Nothing. He saw Keara kneeling by Thoren, her body swaying. Was Thoren de—? His brain stuttered on the word, refusing to let it out. Keara was beside his friend. She would heal Thoren.

He prayed.

No use thinking about it. Shoving his feelings into a dark corner of his soul, he grabbed the sword and stuck it through his belt as he began to circle the perimeter of the clearing back the way he came.

His palm still tingled from where it grasped the hilt of the sword. If titanium affected him, he could only imagine what it must feel like to a Draconi.

A movement in the trees where Keara tended Thoren caught his attention. Where was Keara? His heart jumped, fluttering as he sucked in a breath. There. By Thoren. Why was she laying facedown?

Two shadows walked out of the trees, converging on where Keara and Thoren lay unmoving on the ground. Had she died? What happened to her?

No time to think about her, when Simon and the rogue Draconi hovered over Thoren. Simon, who had captured Keara and threatened a female Draconi’s life, who had driven a sword through his friend. Simon, who was about to breathe his last.

Simon and the Draconi gestured to Thoren, arguing about something. He stepped closer, not bothering to mask the crunch of leaves under his boots. So engrossed in their conversation, they didn’t even hear his approach. His loud, noisy approach.

Stupid bastards.

Keara lay by Thoren, toppled onto the bed of leaves like she slept. Thoren lay on his side, facing Enar, his brow furrowed. Alive!

The thought no sooner crossed his mind than he squelched the emotion. No time for emotions, he needed to kill the two who threatened his friend.

The hooded Draconi faced Enar, standing opposite Simon.

“Stop arguing and kill him.” Magic layered the words. Magic spoken by the bloody Draconi. Affected by the magical tone, Simon raised his sword.

Which was the last thing the bastard did.

Double-handing Blood Seeker, Enar swung, the blade slicing into Simon’s neck, blood spurting over Thoren.

Clearly blood had gotten into his eyes too. He blinked a blurry vision at Thoren, who sat, blinking at him. Both males swiped a hand across their eyes. He wasn’t crying. Watchers didn’t do such feminine things.

Especially when an enemy still remained.

The Draconi clapped, the slap of his palms stilling the insect chatter. “Thank you. He was getting annoying.”

Enar peered into the folds of the cowl, trying to see the Draconi’s face, meeting up with a whole lot of darkness. Not a trait to describe him.

Between one breath and the next, Thoren jumped to his feet, tackling the Draconi around the waist, slamming them both into the ground. The Draconi flipped Thoren onto his back, one hand posed for an energy blast.

Not happening. Enar kicked the Draconi in the shoulder, flipping him off Thoren and pointed the tip of the titanium sword at the bastard’s heart. With one smooth roll, the Draconi crouched staring at the two, surprise rolling out of the dark recesses of his cowl. What he wouldn’t give to disobey the Council and kill the bastard where he crouched on the ground. Unfortunately, he had to return the goat sucker for interrogation.

“Titanium is a bitch, eh?”

The Draconi’s head wavered as he took in Enar’s stance and then looked at Thoren.

“Bid your aunt greetings from me.” Jumping to his feet, he spun and ran, his cloak disappearing into the shadows.

Enar pounded after him, refusing to let his prey run off. Deeper into the forest they dashed, until he no longer saw the Draconi. Pulling to a halt, Enar looked around. Nothing. Whispering branches and the ragged gasps of his breathing echoed off the trunks.

No Draconi.

Goddess’s teeth. Had the Draconi managed to transport despite the titanium sword?

Tilting his head back, he took in the branches. No Draconi hiding up a tree. No Draconi on the ground. And without a torch, he couldn’t track the bastard’s trail.

He cursed.

No use standing around the trees staring at shadows. He ran back to Thoren and Keara, his boots slapping against the carpet of leaves, his breath heaving through his lips. Darting around a tree, he dashed to where Thoren knelt before Keara.

“Lost him,” Enar gasped, dropping both swords as he bent over, hands on his knees, his breath ragged. Definitely needed running practice.

“She won’t wake.” Anguish laced Thoren’s voice. “I need to get her back to the Temple but that sword is prohibiting it. I don’t know what’s wrong with her!”

“It might have...something to do with her...raising both of us...from the dead.” He gasped like an overweight dragon on a dash for gold.

“We died?”

Enar wiped Blood Seeker’s blade on Simon’s tunic, trying to get his wheezing breaths under control. “Being stabbed generally does that to a person.” He sheathed Blood Seeker and knelt by Thoren. “I need running practice.”

“Or bigger lungs.”

“Thank you.” Thoren clasped Enar on the shoulder.

The bloody ache started again in his chest and Thoren’s face blurred. Enar blinked, shrugging.

“What do we do with the titanium sword?”

“The Draconi mentioned a safe distance of thirty paces. If you hide it, can you remember where it is?”

“Do I look like a dumb goat?”

Thoren stared at him, one eyebrow cocked at an angle.

“Thanks. It’s nice to see you again too. I’ll go hide the sword. Don’t leave without me.”

He strode across the clearing, counting his steps, wondering what else the Draconi said while standing next to Thoren. Why did the bastard come for Thoren? Or had they come for Keara? Why, why, why?

He sounded like a toddler.

Taking extra steps for good measure, he placed the sword below a tree root and buried it under a pile of leaves. Keeping to the shadows, he circled around to where Thoren held Keara in his arms.

“It’s done. Is it far enough for you to get us out of here?” Enar placed a hand on his friend’s shoulder.

Thoren formed an energy ball in his palm. Guess that was a yes. “Hold on.”

Thoren transported them to the Temple Courtyard and ran, carrying Keara, into the Temple, Enar dashing behind. Clearly his friend was rattled by either Keara’s condition or being raised from the dead. Why else would he land them in the Courtyard instead of in the infirmary?

As they ran, Thoren used mind-speak to call Annaliese, his voice slamming through Enar’s mind like a burst of energy. The air swirled in front of them and with a muted pop Annaliese appeared.

“What...By the Goddess! Bring her in here!” She shoved open a door and Thoren rushed inside, laying Keara on the bed.

“What happened? She left to tell Father about a vision she saw of you injured. Are you well?”

“Well enough. She won’t wake. Can you help her?”

Annaliese placed a hand on Keara’s brow and closed her eyes. Her eyes flew open, wide and frightened.

“She raised you!”

How did she know that? He’d been taught Draconi considered it rude to forge into another’s mind without permission. But Draconi also blocked out other’s probing thoughts, allowing them privacy. Perhaps the priestesses thought themselves above societal rules and read minds at will.

He shoved extra barriers around his thoughts.

“Don’t say that out loud.” Thoren hissed, crossing his arms. “Do you know what others will do if they discover her gift?”

“I’m sorry. It’s just...not even my mother had the ability to raise the dead. I’ve never seen it done before.”

“How did you know what she did?”

“I need Aryana. Only she has the ability to heal Keara. I’ll return.” The air shimmered as she disappeared.

“You get the feeling she doesn’t want to speak on how she knew Keara was a death raiser?” Enar slumped against the door, arms folded.

Speaking as he moved, Thoren grabbed a chair and placed it by Keara’s side. “Just because we can mind-speak doesn’t mean we can invade another’s mind. Unless we project them to another, our thoughts belong to us.”

“You sure about that?”

Thoren stared at Keara, lost in thought. Or maybe he was just ignoring Enar.

“Thoren?”

“I don’t know.”

“She’ll live. Ari will work her magic—”

“Ari? You’re on a pet name basis with my aunt?”

And between one breath and the next his comforting words ran against a wall of anger. Enar gave a silent curse. He did not need to go in the direction this conversation headed. He did not need a reminder of a past indiscretion. Of how he skirted the laws and danced with death. Watchers weren’t supposed to touch Draconi females. Thoren looked the other way as did most Draconi his age. Females should have a right to choose who they slept with and not be bound by ancient societal rules.

But Ari?

Any male besides a Draconi who touched the High Priestess did so on punishment of death.

And he hadn’t needed to use his magic to convince her to lay with him. He hadn’t convinced her of anything. She started and ended the entire relationship for reasons he never knew. Never cared to know. Over and done now. He had Lily. Why bring out old affairs?

But red suffused Thoren’s face and Enar doubted he’d get out of this conversation unscathed.

Son of a bloody goat.

“You didn’t.”

Enar shrugged, answering with the only thing that mattered. “I have Lily now.”

“She’s my aunt!”

“You didn’t have a problem with it when it was a female in some village.”

“But Ari is not a female in some village. She’s my aunt!”

“It’s over. We ended it.”

“You ended it? You mean it was more than once?”

“Do you really want to hear this now?” Enar gestured to Keara. “What’s done is done. In the past. Over.”

Thoren shoved a hand through his hair, his hand cranked into a fist. The air crackled with tension and Enar shifted, tightening his fists. He might deserve Thoren’s punch, but it didn’t mean he’d roll over and take more than one hit.

Pop! Pop!

Aryana and Annaliese appeared in front of them, both females hurrying to Keara’s side. Ari stopped, though, and looked from Thoren to Enar and back again, her eyes narrowing. One finger pointed at Thoren.

“We’ll discuss your discussion later.”

He swallowed at the implication. Clearly, the priestesses jumped at will into minds despite barriers erected to keep them out. And he had never even felt Ari brush against his mind.

A chill snuck down his spine and he shivered it gone.

“Move away from the bed.” Aryana motioned Thoren back and he scooted the chair against the wall.

Enar took the steps necessary to stand in front of Thoren. Keara’s condition eclipsed what lay festering between them like a rotten carcass. Thoren needed his support.