The Kinshield Legacy (47 page)

When she reached the inn, she pressed her back to the wall and focused on her breathing, trying to calm herself so as not to make any noise when she went inside. She raised her eyes to the sky, to the brilliance of the stars and the shapes they formed, the stories they told. This was one story she wouldn’t tell. Not yet. Not for many years to come.

“What are you doing here?” demanded a deep voice behind her.

She whirled around, raising Cirang’s sword in reflex.

With a thick, dark mustache and handsome face, the man looked familiar. He held up his empty hands in a calming gesture. “No need for that,” he said, his voice low.

“Be on your way, ‘ranter,” she said. “I’m on official business of the Viragon Sisterhood.”

“Is that so? Did Cirang send you?”

Cirang? How did he know--? Daia remembered where she’d seen his face; he’d come to see Aminda the day before Daia, Cirang and JiNese had left for Tern. “What do you know of it?” she demanded in a hushed voice.

“I’ve got the inn covered.”

Daia’s heart thudded so hard, she was afraid he would hear it. This had to be Ravenkind’s cousin. “Look, a renegade Sister was seen entering this inn. I’ve got orders--”

“I know,” he said impatiently. “I will handle it. You get back to the complex and tell Cirang to keep her nose out of my business.”

“You know? Who in blazes are you?”

He sighed. “I’m Lilalian’s ally, Warrick Darktalon.”

Warrick. That was him.

“Now go back to the complex like I told you, or I’m going to have to—“

Daia lunged at him with Cirang’s sword. His reflex was quick and he parried with his left hand. The blade cut deeply into his palm, nearly severing his index finger, but he avoided a mortal wound. He drew his sword with a ring, holding his useless hand against his chest. Blood gushed down his wrist and forearm.

“You’ve made a big mistake,” he said through gritted teeth. “Put down the weapon and I won’t kill you.”

“You’re already dead,” she spat. “Just like your idiot cousin.”

Warrick let out a growl and lunged. Daia parried, but his blade glanced off hers, skipped over the guard and sliced into her arm. Her hand was suddenly too weak to grip the sword. The weapon fell to the cobblestones at her feet. Before he could swing again, she dropped to a crouch and whipped the knife in her left hand up alongside his groin, slicing through the artery. Spinning away, she rose again and stepped back into a defensive stance.

He dropped his weapon and clutched himself. Going first to one knee, he slumped to the ground as the blood soaked his trousers. His eyes rose to hers and pleaded for help before freezing in a glassy stare. He fell onto his face.

With her left hand, Daia dragged Warrick by the arm further into the alley so casual passersby wouldn’t see him from the street. She gathered up all the weapons. As she started to wipe his blood off Cirang’s knife, a wicked grin crept over her face. If Brodas thought the Sisterhood was his ally, then leaving Cirang’s knife covered with Warrick’s blood would be the perfect revenge for JiNese’s murder.

Chapter 55

The leaves whispered of promises unkept as they shivered in the trees and tumbled across the forest floor. A copper-haired girl with tiny freckles on her nose beckoned him. She was Caevyan, yet he called out “Dagaz!” as he ran after her. His legs were wooden and unbending. The ground was soft like sand. “Papa!” she called, then ran away. Always elusive, staying ahead of him. She turned and waited, beckoning.

Her eyes were the color of blood.

A sharp noise jerked Gavin out of the dream. He looked around, trying to identify its source.

Tak-tak-tak.

The door. Papa was coming to tell him he’d forgotten to light the heater in the chicken coop. Coming to tell him the baby chicks were dead.

“Gavin,” someone whispered loudly.

No, not Papa. Coming more fully awake, he rose, pulled on his trousers and picked up his dagger. In the darkness, he made his way to the door, holding the knife between his teeth while he laced his trousers. Through the crack between the door and its frame came the sound of heavy breathing. Gavin took the knife in hand, drawing it from its sheath.

“Gavin, it’s me. Wake up. Gavin?” Daia’s voice.

Tak-tak-tak.

He unbolted and opened the door, but the hall was darker than his room. He squinted, trying to fit the image before his eyes into the context of Daia Saberheart. She had an armful of weapons. “What’s wrong?” he asked.

She squeezed past him into his room. “I’ve just killed someone.”

“Who? How?”

“Warrick Darktalon. He was lurking in the alley outside. Watching us, no doubt.”

Gavin shut the door and rubbed his eyes. “Did you say you killed Warrick? Brodas Ravenkind’s cousin, Warrick?”

“Yes. Gavin, they know we’re here.”

“Hell, tell me what happened,” he said.

“I was out... for a walk, and as I was coming back, he snuck up behind me.”

“He attacked you?”

“No, he thought I was an ally, sent by Cirang to watch the inn. He knew we were here, so the Sisterhood must know too. When he told me who he was, I killed him.”

Gavin used the night candle to light the oil lamp. The sight of blood on her sleeve twisted his gut. “You’re injured. Let me see,” he said, setting down the knife.

“It’s a scratch,” she said. “Gavin, I’m not sure we can trust Domach. He told you Warrick was in Calsojourn.”

“We can trust him. I read hazes, remember? Let me see your arm,” Gavin insisted. “Take your shirt off so I can look at it.”

“Gavin,” Daia warned.

“I need to see how badly you’re injured. You ain’t-- you’re not going to be able to battle if you’re hurt. It’ll take just a minute to heal you.”

Daia set the weapons she was carrying on the bed and took hold of the bottom of her tunic with her left hand. “Turn around.”

Gavin turned and waited, wondering how angry she would be if he peeked. He heard the rustle of cloth behind him. It occurred to him that he didn’t truly need her to remove her shirt, but he was certainly not going to stop her now. “What were you doing wandering about in the mirk-night, anyway?”

Several heartbeats of silence passed. “Feeling restless. All right, I’m ready. Let’s get this over with.”

When Gavin turned around, she was holding her tunic against her chest, but her arms, shoulders and back were fully exposed, and a little bit of her stomach. If he’d been at leisure to admire her naked torso, the taut skin and smooth muscle underneath, he’d have fallen to his knees, begging her to let him touch her. But the cut needed his attention; blood flowed freely down her arm.

He picked up the shirt he’d left wadded on the floor and blotted the blood from her wound. The cut went deep into the muscle tissue. “How’d you manage to grip your sword?”

“I didn’t, but I had a knife in my left hand.”

Gavin stepped up behind her and put his right hand over the gash, instantly feeling the heat build. He put his other hand on her left shoulder. Her back was to him, her body warm so close to his. Gavin felt a familiar stirring in his groin.
This ain’t the time for that,
he reminded himself.

“Do you need help?” she whispered.

“No.” He closed his eyes and concentrated. The white fluttering came easier this time, more quickly, and after a few moments, his hand cooled. He wasn’t sure he’d succeeded until he lifted his hand away and saw that the wound was sealed with new pink skin. He waited for the black spots to cloud his vision, but they didn’t come. “Hm! It worked.”

She checked her arm, lifted it to the side a couple times, then stepped away, smiling up at him. “My thanks, Kinshield. Do you feel all right?”

He paused for dramatic effect, then pretended to swoon, opening his arms to her.

She pushed him away, still clutching her shirt to her chest. “Nice try. Turn around and let me dress.”

Gavin sighed and turned around. While he rinsed her blood from his hand in the wash basin, he said, “Well, for killing Warrick you deserve a medal. That’s going to anger Brodas beyond measure. If he finds out who did it, he’ll slay your whole family.” He wiped his wet hand on his trouser leg and turned around to face her, hoping for the need to apologize. But she’d finished dressing.

“Don’t worry. He won’t know it was me,” she said with a mischievous grin.

“Look, I’m betting Ravenkind told Demonshredder the story about being able to get the King’s Blood-stone to lure us to the cave. He sends Warrick to watch us, waiting for us to leave...”

“Warrick runs back and tells Ravenkind,” Daia added, nodding. “They come after us, arriving just in time to see you solve the rune. They’ll probably arrive with a whole regiment of Viragon Sisters and try to take the King’s Blood-stone by force.”

“Yeh, or could be a regiment’s already there.”

“Choose your battleground,” Daia said pensively.

“What?”

“Of two equal forces, which has the advantage in battle?”

Gavin nodded with a grin. “Yeh. The one who chooses the battleground. Are you thinking what I’m thinking?”

“He’s probably asleep, waiting for Warrick to come and rouse him with word that we’re on our way to the cave. If we go to Ravenkind’s house--”

“--we could rescue Risan and get out afore Ravenkind’s even awake,” Gavin finished. “And go to the cave at our leisure.”

“If he’s after the King’s Blood-stone, we’ll have to face him sooner or later. But if we go to the cave directly, we take the risk that Risan won’t be alive by the time we get around to saving him. And as you said, a couple dozen Sisters are probably already there, waiting.”

“We’d have surprise on our side by showing up at his house. But Ravenkind’s home ain’t— isn’t exactly the battleground of choice. We’ve never been there; we don’t know what to expect.”

“Domach does,” Daia said. “And without Warrick, Ravenkind will be more vulnerable.”

They regarded each other for a moment, a silent agreement reached.

“It was Edan, wasn’t it?” she asked softly. “You asked Edan to claim the King’s Blood-stone.”

“Yeh.” Gavin lifted his chin toward the knife and two swords she’d set on the bed. “You get those off of Warrick?”

“Mostly,” she said. “He said no, didn’t he?”

Gavin nodded, his head hung.

She put a warm, gentle hand on his arm, sending a tingle through his heart and straight to his groin. He raised his eyes to hers. “It’ll be all right.”

The look in her pale blue eyes, so full of trust and faith and caring, filled him with an urgent desire to take her into his arms and make long, tender love to her. She was so beautiful. So strong. “I can’t do it alone,” he said.

“You won’t have to.” She smiled. “Come on. Let’s wake the others.”

Was she saying she would consider a proposal? He took a breath. There would be time for that later. “Yeh. The sooner we get moving, the better our chances of living through the night.”

Chapter 56

Shortly before dawn, the five battlers crept up behind the barn at Brodas’s manor, single file, and huddled there. Edan, Daia, Brawna and Domach turned to Gavin with expectant faces. “Awright Demonshredder,” he said softly, “how do we get in?”

“On the other side of that brick wall,” Domach said, “is a courtyard, and beyond that, the back door to the manor. That would be the safest way in.” His breath was white against the darkness of the morning.

Gavin looked around at the others; Edan’s brow was drawn, Brawna chewed her lip, and Daia had a gleam in her eye. “Awright. I’ll see how many guards.” He shifted forward but Daia stayed him with a firm grip on his arm.

“No, I’ll go. It’s too risky.”

“Now ain’t the time to argue about this,” he said. He had all the confidence in the world in Daia, but he resisted allowing her to lead him into danger. He should go first.

“Gavin,” she whispered, “I know you feel responsible for us all, but I have to keep you alive at least until we know the King’s Blood-stone’s safe. Just bite on this one, all right?”

He drew in a breath. She had a good point, but he still didn’t like it. “Take Edan with you, then,” he insisted.