Chronicles Of The Warlands - Warlord Part 43

They were long, slow kisses that left me moaning. Try as I might, I couldn't get him to hurry. I shifted my legs within the confines of the dress and the soft fabric slipped over my skin. "Keir," I begged.

His fingers tugged at the next bit of lacings as his fingertips caressed the skin below. "So when I reach the end, and slowly pull your dress down, your b.r.e.a.s.t.s will be taut, and eager for my touch." Keir licked just below my ear, and I shuddered. "And when my hand slips under your dress, I will find you warm and ready." There was such satisfaction in his rough tone, a certain arrogance. I blinked at him, dazed with pa.s.sion. His eyes were blazing, bright blue in his bronzed face. "Thus do I claim my Warprize."

I moaned again, and closed my eyes, surrendering to the pleasure of his touch. But just before I lost myself, I remembered.

Thank you, G.o.ddess . . . Lady of the Moon and Stars, thank you.

I awoke in the morning, feeling wonderful. Warm and safe, spooned against Keir, his arm over my waist. There were faint sounds from outside. Horses perhaps. The distant sound of someone working around a fire. That had to be Marcus, seeing to our meal. I lifted my head, and took a deep breath. Marcus was making bread tarts.

My stomach rumbled.

Carefully, I eased out of Keir's arms and reached for his cloak. I'd wrap up just long enough to get some thing from Marcus, and crawl back into bed with Keir. As I tied it at the neck, I smiled to see him sprawled over the bed, sleeping. Seems I'd worn my Warlord out the night before. I smiled even wider to see those white trous cling to his skin. Perhaps I could persuade him to take them off for me.

After I got some food.

I stepped out onto the flattened gra.s.s, and looked about. We were along the sh.o.r.e, a fair distance from the Heart. I couldn't see any movement in that direction. To my right, I could see a far smaller tent set up by the sh.o.r.e. That had to be Marcus's. There were horses there as well, grazing. One of them, a brown one, lifted his head and neighed a welcome. It was sure to be Greatheart.

I started walking in that direction, clutching the cloak to me, and watching where I put my feet. There was a path of flattened gra.s.s that I followed, between the tufts of taller gra.s.ses. It wouldn't do to cut my feet on anything. I'd never hear the end of that from Marcus. Or Keir, for that matter.

Marcus emerged from his small tent, and saw me coming. He waved in recognition, but started to work on some pans at the fire pit. I quickened my step, lured by the promise of warm bread tarts. The air was crisp, and the sun had not yet warmed the earth. I really should have put on my slippers, but the gra.s.s was soft enough.

Marcus straightened as I approached, a pleased look on his face as I walked up to his fire. "Kavage, Warprize?" His voice was low. "The bread tarts will be done in a moment."

I nodded. "And gurt, if you have some." I moved to stand in the area that had been cleared between the fire and the tall gra.s.ses. "Keir's still asleep."

"No harm there," Marcus noted. He moved about the fire, and reached for the kavage pot. "Hisself could use the-"

The gra.s.s behind him rustled with movement.

With no other warning, Iften leapt out, armored, with a dagger in his hand, soaking wet, and covered in dirt and gra.s.s. Before I could even react, he lunged at Marcus from his blindspot.

Frozen, I watched in horror as Iften plunged his dagger into Marcus's side. For one long horrible moment we stood, silent and stock-still. Iften jerked his blade free, and time flowed once again.

Marcus clutched at his side. He staggered back from the fire, managing a harsh whisper before he collapsed. "Run!"

I ran, screaming Keir's name.

Iften lunged for me, his hand reaching out for the hem of the cloak. He caught it and jerked. I stumbled back, jerking the cloth from his hand. But he was now between me and the tent where Keir lay. Iften's teeth gleamed as he snarled in satisfaction, his lips stained with brown spittle.

I darted off, straight away from the sh.o.r.e. The cloak flared out, the ties pressing into my throat. I risked a backward glance to see Iften's fingers just miss the hem. I used what spare breath I had for another scream, a warning to Keir. But the only response came from behind, an answering cry from one of the horses.

Iften hit me then, and bore me down to the ground. I rolled, coming up with my face to the sky, with Iften trying to pin me to the ground. He sat on my hips, and pinned my right arm under his knee, pressing it into the dirt. The cloak had fallen open. I was naked and that made his touch seem even more revolting.

My breath fled as his full weight came to bear on me. I had one hand free, but Iften grabbed it with his crippled one. There was still strength in that hand. I struggled to pull free as he waved the dagger before me, still dripping with Marcus's blood.

"So now, Xyian," he hissed, his eyes the merest pinp.r.i.c.ks. "I save the Plains and my people." Iften raised the dagger to strike, aiming for my chest.

Something thundered up from behind him. Iften hesitated for but an instant, but it was long enough- Long enough for Greatheart to appear, and bite deep into Iften's shoulder.

Iften screamed in rage, his dagger falling from his fingers.

My horse, my sleepy old brown horse, almost seemed to growl, and then wrenched Iften off me with a jerk of his head. Iften was dragged back, far enough that I was freed. I fumbled for the dagger and scram bled to my feet to see Greatheart swing Iften off in a half circle, so that the horse ended up between me and my attacker.

Greatheart released his hold and danced back, snorting and tossing his head. Iften's face was a grimace as he came to his feet. Cursing, he reached, and pulled out a sword. He took a few steps in my direction, but Greatheart snapped at him, then neighed in defiance.

There was an answering roar from the direction of our tent as Keir emerged, running at full speed.

Iften's attention shifted then. Cursing, he unstrapped a shield from his back, and jammed his crippled arm into the straps. Keir raced over the gra.s.s, swords in both hands, clothed in naught but white trous.

In horror I watched, clutching my cloak around me as I realized that Iften was armored, and that Keir had none. But Keir never paused in his charge. He closed in, swiping at Iften with first one blade then another.

Iften dodged, using the shield to fend off the second attack. He grinned, and there was madness in his eyes.

Keir stood there, eyes cold, swords poised before him. His chest heaved, the bruise on his shoulder still evident. Iften's muscles twitched, his teeth bared, glaring at Keir. For an endless moment, they circled one another in silence, graceful and deadly.

Keir attacked.

Iften parried the blows with his shield, giving some ground before lunging forward with his own blade. Keir evaded it and once again they faced each other, each waiting for the other to make a move.

I gripped the dagger in my hand underneath the cloak, but I knew better than to try to interfere. Marcus had taught me to stay out of the- Marcus. I looked back toward his tent, but I could see no sign of him. The clang of swords drew my eyes back to the fight. Greatheart still danced between me and the warriors, almost as if he was trying to herd me away.

Iften raged like fire; Keir was cold as ice. I caught my breath when I saw Keir's eyes, intent on his opponent. There'd be no mercy here, no talk. This would only end with Iften's death, even if Keir died with him. I swallowed any protest, any warning. There was no point.

Keir's jaw was clenched as his swords moved in front of him, almost daring Iften to charge him. Iften was cagy, advancing with his shield held high, trying to get close enough to jab.

Greatheart neighed a warning. The big horse charged past me, behind me-

I turned, to see two warrior-priests, a man and a woman, emerging from the waters of the lake, scram bling onto the sh.o.r.e.

I froze, terrified. Time seemed to slow.

They moved fast, their matted braids swaying as they ran toward me. Dressed only in their tattoos and

leather trous, the water poured off them and the blades of the daggers they held.Greatheart was past me and headed for them, bellowing his challenge.They split, darting each to a side. Greatheart followed the man.The woman headed for me.Air rushed into my lungs, but I stood frozen, my cloak gaping open in the front. Her teeth flashed, for I was alone and naked, an easy kill for a warrior. She trotted toward me, her blade ready, her eyes gleaming out from the tattoos that covered her face. Eyes filled with confidence and victory.

In that instant, rage flooded through me.

I heard Keir screaming behind me as he realized my danger, heard a wet 'thunk' as Greatheart reared up and kicked his foe in the head. But my focus was on my attacker, and the anger that filled me.

She was going to kill my baby.

She took a few steps closer to me, then paused, almost as if she bore good news. "You meet your deathwell, Xyian," she laughed. "I grant you-I brought Iften's dagger out from under my cloak, and rammed the blade into her throat.She was startled, too surprised to use the last moments of her life to attack me.

Dancing back out of reach, I pulled the blade with me.

She gasped, dropping her knife and falling to her knees. I took a few more steps back and watched calmly as she put her hands to her throat to try to stop the blood. My healer's knowledge told me it wouldn't aid her.

Nothing could.

As she crumpled to the gra.s.s, I turned to see that Greatheart had the man down and under his hooves.

My old sleepy warhorse was making sure of that threat by trampling the body to a pulp.

I moved further away from the dying warrior-priestess and focused on Keir.

He'd tried to come to my aid, but Iften had blocked his move. They both realized that I was safe in the

same moment, and Iften howled out in anger and frustration. Keir snarled, and the battle between them was rejoined. But now there was a new desperation in Iften's eyes as they clashed.

Even as I wondered how long this could go on, Iften charged Keir, trying to ram him with the shield. Keir dodged out of the way, but as Iften turned to face him again, Keir struck his shield, his sword biting deep. The blade caught in the wood.

Iften whooped in triumph, bringing his sword to bear. Keir blocked with his free sword and then twisted the other.

Twisting Iften's arm.

The bone broke, a clear snap. The shield dropped to his side and Iften's howl became one of pain as he staggered back. Keir let go the trapped sword, and swung the free one up. There was a spray of blood as it caught Iften's neck; his eyes bulged. He dropped his sword and lifted his hand to his neck, as if to stop the flow.

Keir plunged his sword deep into Iften's chest, and withdrew it in one swift move. A few staggered steps,

and Iften collapsed at Keir's feet.

"Keir!" I ran a few steps toward him, but Keir shook his head. I stopped, waiting, trying to catch my breath. Keir stood over Iften, breathing hard, his sword steady. A thin stream of red ran down the blade, falling on Iften's body.

Iften was face up, his eyes open.

I held my hands to my chest, feeling my heart pounding within. "Is he?"

Keir waited a moment longer. Slowly, carefully he knelt next to Iften. Warily, with the other sword

poised for an attack, Keir pressed his hand down hard on Iften's chest.

I held my breath.

"Dead." Keir's voice held a note of satisfaction as he rose. I threw myself forward, running into arms he

opened wide. Our mouths met and we kissed, desperate for each other's touch.

Seconds later, we broke it off and I stared at him in horror. "Marcus!"

I turned and ran back toward the tent, where Marcus had fallen. Keir was just behind me. But there was

no body. Just a b.l.o.o.d.y smear in the gra.s.s and a path of blood- Headed for his tent.

I looked at Keir, almost afraid to move. His face was just as grim. He reached out and took my hand.

We moved quickly, following the b.l.o.o.d.y trail. Through the gra.s.s. Through the tent flap.

Marcus was on the floor, curled on his side next to his pallet. My satchel was there, open, its contents scattered on the floor. Keir knelt, eased Marcus over and pulled him into his arms. I dropped my dagger and threw myself down next to the little man, my hands reaching for the wound.

"W-Warprize." Marcus's one eye opened as he stuttered my name. He stared at me, wide-eyed, clearly

in shock. His hand was pressed under his tunic, blood all around the area. His tunic was filthy, covered in dirt and gra.s.s.

"Marcus." I reached down to peel back his hand, terrified at what I would find.

Only to stare dumbly at the crumbled ma.s.s of bloodmoss there, pressed against his side.

"I-I remembered. What you told Gils," Marcus panted, as he moved the plant away from the site.

Horrified, I looked at the skin, a thin red scar healed tight. Bloodmoss can't be used like that, it only seals the skin, not the organs underneath. If the dagger cut the bowel, or ...

With a trembling hand, I smeared some of the blood from his skin onto my fingertips and held it up to my nose.

It smelled clean. No taint of feces or poison. No gut wound.