Soul of Kandrith (The Kandrith Series) (44 page)

Rhiain and Edvard hurtled down the hill together. Rhiain picked her target: a tall legionnaire whose regulation-sized shield left his knees and elbows exposed.

Understanding leaped from her to Edvard like sparks. He charged the legionnaire to the left of hers.

Time moved in jerks. Shoulder aside the sharp point of a spear. Raise her front paws and smash her full weight down on the shield. Bowl over the tall legionnaire, who then crashed into three others, and then she was in among then, slashing. She clawed at a man’s face, sliced open a hamstring, bit a chunk from a meaty thigh. She barely felt the return blows, mere pinpricks.

Fitch jumped in beside her, swinging his sword. “To the standard!” She saw the golden pole waving behind four brawny legionnaires.
So
close
.

Bright pain sliced along Rhiain’s haunch, but she ignored it, muscles bunching. She leaped over the honour guard standing between her and the standard.

Before the battle Fitch had drilled her on recognizing their target. “
We
can’t
win
the
battle
.
Their
numbers
are
too
many
.
But
we
can
win
the
war
IF
we
capture
one
man
.
Primus
Pallax
will
hang
back
for
most
of
the
battle
,
but
there
will
come
a
point
where
he
gets
impatient
or
overconfident
and
closes
in
for
the
kill
.
Then
you
must
strike
.”

The whole battle, all the dead, pivoted on this one moment.

Her gaze locked onto the Primus: plumed helmet, red cloak with gold pins, pugnacious jaw shadowed by dark stubble, and close-set blue eyes that narrowed in determination. He drew his sword.

Rhiain feinted with her paw, batting at his sword at the cost of another small cut—

So that Edvard, moving in perfect tandem, could pounce on Primus Pallax from the side. He knocked the general flat and pressed his front paws onto his chest, snarling. “Surrrenderrr!”

* * *

Lance broke into a run at the sight of the hollow log, ignoring the pain in his bruised ribs.
Finally
. He’d started to fear his sense of direction had failed him in the perpetual green twilight of the forest.

Thirty feet away he heard Sara sobbing. The sound maddened him. Was he too late, the babe dead? He ran faster, every stride jolting his ribs, breath wheezing in and out of his tight chest.

Touching fingers to the roof of the log, he ducked inside the dim space. His gaze found Sara lying on her back, panting, the instant before Nir pressed a swordpoint to his neck.

Lance stilled.

“Ah,” Nir said, sounding oddly satisfied. “The last player in our little drama—the would-be father.”

“Nir,” Lance spit the word.

Sara groaned in pain.

To his surprise, Nir removed the sword from his throat and stepped back. “Go ahead. Attend her labours. My God and I will wait to take our victory.”

He exited the log, though Lance had no doubt he would guard the entrance.

Sara moaned again and bit down on her lip hard enough to draw blood.

Lance lowered himself to his knees and held her clenched fist. Though the Goddess didn’t enter him, he could feel healing flowing into Sara like a stream of water, easy and natural. He could do nothing for the contractions squeezing her womb, but he could take away her back pain and stiffness, and heal her poor, mangled lip.

Once the contraction eased, Sara clutched his hand and gasped out, “Nir. Switched allegiances. Now serves Vez.” Tears ran down her cheek. “He means to sacrifice the babe.”

Lance sank back on his butt, mind reeling. And he’d been thinking things couldn’t get any worse...But, really, had things changed that much? “He’s always served Vez.”

Calming slightly, Sara reached beneath a fold of her skirt and silently showed him her belt-knife. Without a word, Lance touched the haft of his own knife. What good two small knives, meant for cutting up meat, not even long enough to be called daggers, would do against a trained swordsman was debatable, but they were better than nothing.

“When the time comes, we’ll fight.” Lance had not come this far to let some bully take Sara from him. “But first let’s see how much longer you have to labour.”

Raising Sara’s dress, he took a look between her legs. And felt his face blanch. The Goddess had cut things quite fine. If he’d lingered any longer on the battlefield...”Your body’s ready. Do you feel an urge to push?”

“Yes. I’ve been fighting it for the last two contractions,” Sara said. Sweat beaded her forehead, and her cheeks were red with exertion.

As always her strength amazed him. “I’m here now,” he said gruffly. “Go ahead and push next time. I’ll make it as easy on you as I can,” Lance told her.

But she shook her head, eyes frantic. “The baby doesn’t have a soul. What if he dies at the moment of birth?”

Lance’s pulse spiked, but he kept his voice calm. “Being soulless isn’t instantly fatal.” Loma had said the baby would refuse to eat and waste away.

But she wasn’t soothed. “What if I only survived because I’d already conceived before I gave my soul to the blue devil?” Her voice broke. “He’s so little. How can he survive without a soul?”

“Stop,” Lance said firmly. “You’re torturing yourself over things you cannot change. You need to focus on giving birth now. We can worry about his soul later.” After, for instance, they’d dealt with the madman lurking outside.

Her face contorted, obviously fighting a contraction. She tried to hold her legs together, but Lance wedged himself between her knees. “What are you doing?”

“My plan to earn a seed of magic following the Qiph Way is risky,” she said, panting. “It would be safer if I give the baby my soul. I’m stronger, more likely to survive without one.”

Every nerve in Lance’s body revolted. “No!” He squeezed her hand, horrified. “Loma’s mercy, promise me you won’t do that.” Tears burned in his eyes and the back of his throat. He scrambled for the right words to persuade her. “I just got you back. I can’t bear to lose you again.” The love he had for their child was mostly potential love. He would do everything in his power to save both of them, but, if he had to choose, he would choose Sara. “
Promise
me
,
you
won’t
leave
me
again
.”

Sara slowly nodded. “Very well. I won’t leave you. But you have to promise me we’ll be a family.”

“I swear it,” Lance said rashly. He’d think of some way to deal with Nir. “Now push.”

She grimaced, her head thrashing from side to side. Her heels slid over the wood until he braced then, giving her something to push against.

The baby’s head crowned. “He has dark hair,” Lance told her. “You’re doing well, keep pushing—”

Her face reddened with effort. “Unnnh.”

Lance moved to support the baby’s tiny head as it popped out. He couldn’t see the cord. “Take a few breaths, rest, then one more push. You can do it.”

Sara didn’t rest long. She threw her head back and bore down again, back arched. “That’s it. There.” The baby’s body slid out; Lance caught his son. He was heart-stoppingly small: about a foot long, but weighing less than half that of a full-term, chubby infant. As Lance cut the cord, he was icily aware that his son was too silent, too still—
He’s
not
breathing
.

“Just one more push for the afterbirth,” he told Sara, trying to distract her while he slipped a finger in the baby’s mouth, clearing the air passage. A hot pulse of healing passed from the Goddess into the boy’s lungs. Lance let out his own held breath as the babe inhaled his first.

Lance smiled in relief. “He’s going to—”

Sara screamed. “Lance!” Her eyes were wide, looking behind him.

Nir
.
He’d
forgotten
the
madman
.

Lance hastily set down the babe. Before he could turn, the heavy hilt of a sword smashed down on his left temple. World going dark, falling...

They’d had less than a moment to be a family.

* * *

“The child lives?” Nir inquired offhandedly, crouching beside Lance.

“Yes,” Sara rasped. No point in lying; Nir would never take her word about the babe’s demise.

The baby lay quietly on her stomach. Sara pressed his small body to her with one hand and groped for her belt-knife with the other. If Nir tried to cut Lance’s throat, she would—what? Leap from her birthing bed while holding a newborn and somehow kill a trained warrior?

Despair surged in her like a dark tide. Sara fought it off. As long as all three of them yet lived, there was still hope. The amount of blood running from Lance’s temple worried her. Had Nir staved in Lance’s skull?
Loma
,
watch
over
your
servant
.

Nir casually removed Lance’s belt-knife, tossing it outside the log, then turned and kicked her knife from her hand. He snorted. “Did you think to defeat me with that?”

While she shook her stinging fingers, he snapped the metal blade in half.

Without weapons, she felt as helpless as the sixteen-year-old girl she’d once been, at his mercy in a way she’d never felt as a soulless slave.

A cruel smile curved Nir’s lips. “I’m so glad you’re back, Sarathena.” He scratched his nail down her cheek; his smile broadened when she flinched. “Wait here. I have to finish building Vez’s altar.” He exited the log.

Sara stared after him in blank incomprehension. He’d given her a reprieve. Why?

He
wanted
to
raise
her
hopes
before
smashing
them
to
flinders
.

She transferred the baby up onto her shoulder and draped the blanket over him to protect his small body from any chill. Rolling onto her knees, she shuffled over to Lance. Even that little effort left her legs trembling, and pain stabbed her groin.

She examined the bloody gash on his temple with careful fingers. His skull seemed intact, but he didn’t rouse when she shook him or even, in desperation, slapped his face.

Blinking back tears, Sara sank back down against the curved wood. Just to conserve her strength.

She kissed the baby’s forehead, cherishing the time with him, even though she knew it was part of Nir’s plan. He no doubt thought it would hurt her more to see the baby killed after she’d had time to cuddle him and feed him.

With a shaking hand, she cupped the baby’s so-small head. Brown eyes stared up at her. A fierce rush of gladness shot through her at this proof that the baby had been fathered by Lance, not Claudius.
Their
son
.

He lay absolutely still. He didn’t cry or kick as Rochelle’s baby had. He didn’t suck his thumb or show any interest in her breast. All he did was breathe—and watch her.

Because the baby had no soul. She’d stolen it from him.

Her heart physically ached, as she faced the truth. She’d never know if her desperate plan to accrue Qiph magic and earn a new soul had worked. She and the baby were out of time.

Sara shivered, her arms tightening around her child, as if Nir were already trying to rip her son away.

She needed to come up with a plan, but her mind felt sluggish, stunted by fear and fatigue.

The broken knife lay nearby. Sara eyed the shards distrustfully. Nir would never have forgotten a weapon in a thousand years, which meant he’d left it for her on purpose, to make things more challenging for him when he returned.

She could still get the arrogant bastard, but she’d have to be very quick. The hilt held only a ragged inch of blade, so she picked up the shard instead. It cut into her palm.

She considered her options. The hollow log had only one entrance. Escape was impossible: not in broad daylight, burdened with a newborn baby. Nor could she abandon Lance.

She needed to take Nir by surprise. He was a hardened warrior, but she’d surprised him several times during her time as his slave by doing something most people—people with a soul—would never have considered.

What would he expect of her? Nir would expect her to pick up the knife shard and protect the baby at all costs.

A plan forming in her head, Sara said a quick prayer to Loma and made her preparations.

When Nir returned she was sitting propped against one wall, singing softly to the blanket-wrapped bundle in her arms.

Nir sneered. “It always amazes me how quickly women get attached to their brats. Even the slavegirls who should know better.” He stretched out a hand. “Give him to me.”

Sara scrambled to her feet and backed away. She let fear colour her voice. “No. Don’t do this.”

He smiled and took a step toward her. “But I want to.”

Sara shook her head and retreated again. Knobby wood pressed against her back. “Vez is the one who wants the baby dead. All these months my lack of reaction has frustrated you. But I have my soul back now. You can use the baby as a threat against me—make me beg.” Sara dropped dramatically to her knees. “I’ll do anything—anything—just don’t kill my baby.” She forced tears to her eyes by tightening her grip on the haftless knife. “Please.”

Nir leaned closer, teeth bared in a fierce grin. “Foolish, Sarathena. I don’t need the baby for that. You’ll do anything to save your own miserable life. I’m going to whip that smooth, smooth skin of yours, carve my name into—”