The Shadow Warrior Page 10

  They’d heal soon, but the loss of blood wasn’t helping. She lunged low and bit off a foot, though that still didn’t prompt a sound from the Eldritch she’d attacked. The lack of balance made him stumble as he tried to run at her for another strike, and she bounded behind him, pushing him forward in a mounted attack, where she dug all four claws in and gouged, then she finished with her teeth.

  Nausea clawed at her stomach. It might be the poison, could be the bad blood she’d taken in. Either way, this was the worst fight she could remember. Breathing hard, she whirled on the last one and rallied her strength. Not easy when she could feel the jitters in her legs, and her tongue was numb.

  Why is this so hard today? The answer hit her like a fist in the skull. I’m used to Gavriel having my back. That awareness pissed her off enough to permit one last pounce and she went at the final Eldritch in a fury. She took a knife in the chest, but he didn’t have the strength for a killing blow. Mags savaged him with all her remaining strength, and then she didn’t have the reserves left to hold her form.

  Amid all the corpses, she dropped to a self-protective crouch—a naked woman covered in blood, wondering if she could get back to the group.

  Gavriel had no idea how he wound up in this position.

  When Magda didn’t circle back on time, he kept riding, herding these poor souls toward Kelnora, but after a while, it became clear that something had gone wrong. What, he couldn’t imagine, as the tiger woman was incredibly fierce in a fight. The people hadn’t noticed yet or they wouldn’t be walking with such confidence.

  There were probably only three kilometers left, and if he abandoned the refugees, they might not make it and even if they did, without his introduction to the town elder, they had no assurance of being permitted to stay. Word wouldn’t have gotten around that he was no longer Thalia’s right hand, and he felt sure that the princess wouldn’t begrudge him using her name to do some good.

  What he wanted to do and what he should do—those impulses were wildly at odds. Over a lifetime of following orders, obedient and unquestioning, he’d never indulged in the weakness of wishing he could follow another path. What the princess required, she received of him. Now, things were different, and Gavriel wanted like hell to leave Gray for the children, to tell these people to keep going, and then go search for Magda. He’d promised to serve as her partner while they traveled together and his blood chilled when he imagined letting her down, as he had so many others.

  There’s a reason I’m alone. I’m meant to be. I always have been.

  This was more of the same, and if he believed in such nonsense, Gavriel could imagine he radiated such malevolence that nobody could bear to stay close. They left or they were taken. Of the two, terrible options, it was better they went willingly, he supposed. Better than being claimed by death to walk among the sunlit lands no more.

  His chest tightened with these grim reflections, and his expression must have given something away because Keriel was trotting anxiously beside his vedda beast, shading her eyes against the scant spring sunlight. “Is something wrong? It seems like the Animari lady ought to be back by now.”

  Yes, she should be. And there was no question at all about what she’d want him to do. Stifling a sigh, he lied without blinking. “She sent a message. Though she’s been detained, the path is clear to Kelnora and she’ll catch up with us there. You needn’t worry. I’m here if anything happens. I’ll stay until I get you settled.”

  Keriel beamed up at him; he had never received such a warm smile for deceiving someone. The tightness in his chest intensified to the point of pain, but he ignored it, and he could almost count the cost worthwhile when Leena rested her head on his sternum and whispered, “You’re not as scary as I thought at first.”

  “Is that right?” he muttered.

  Talking to children seemed strange, even sacrilegious, because he had no idea what to say. They hadn’t permitted him to play since he went to the guild and started his training. His memories were full of austerity, discipline, and constant awareness that if he disappointed his mentor, he could be discarded like yesterday’s rubbish.

  “Mater said you know a princess. Is she really a princess? Does she have a crown and a sparkly gown?”

  “I have no idea.” Since the conclave, he’d only seen Princess Thalia in black, dressed for war, not a ballroom gala.

  Leena lost interest in his conversation quickly, thank the fates, and she went to sleep in his arms with so much trust that he worried for her future. His nerves prickled as he rode, scanning the route ahead, but everything seemed quiet. No movement startled his vedda beast, and the refugees kept moving at their excruciatingly sluggish pace. He wished they had wagons to transport what little they’d managed to save from the fire, but that was a selfish thought. especially when directed at those who’d lost all but their lives. Funny, how Magda Versai had become the voice in his head, pointing out when he was terrible.

  I’m often terrible.

  The day felt endless, but they reached the outskirts of Kelnora before nightfall—and without incident. Gavriel noted when the road widened with the spread of humble buildings. This was a fishing town and he inhaled the fresh salt of the nearby sea. The air smelled of fish and seaweed too, smoke from the houses that had built fires against the storm that seemed to be threatening. Rain or snow, the heavens hadn’t decided.

  It had been years since he’d visited a place like this during the day, not coming to kill someone in silence, but simply…here. Gavriel tried not to show how out of place he felt as he rode forward, leading his motley band to the center of town. It seemed wiser not to mention that these Eldritch hailed from Gilbraith lands.

  There, he dismounted and whispered to the elder, “Do not contradict anything I say. Do you understand?”

  The older woman nodded.

  Then he got the children down from the vedda beast one by one. Leena hugged his leg for a moment, leaving Gavriel frozen in shocked bemusement. Keriel pulled her away with a shy smile. “Don’t worry, she doesn’t bite.”

  He answered, “It’s fine, I’ve had my shots,” and the small group nearest to him burst out laughing, as if he’d intended to be humorous.

  He tried a smile and it tugged strangely at the corners of his mouth.

  Just then, a man came out of the largest structure—everything was built of stone that must have been quarried nearby, and by the look of it, most of the homes had been standing for hundreds of years. It was sobering to realize how much the people had suffered under Lord Talfayen, how little of his own prosperity and technology he had shared. In a way, this was like stepping into the past.

  “We rarely get visitors,” the town elder said, with a worried look.

  “Not visitors,” Gavriel corrected. “Princess Thalia has sent these people to Kelnora under my protection. Do you recognize me?”

  Stories of the red-eyed demon who murdered in the night had a way of getting around, so he was surprised when the man simply shook his head. “I’ve not spoken to a stranger in almost three years, good sir. It’d be easier if you tell me.”

  “Understood. I’m Gavriel d’Alana, and these people have been displaced by the war. I’m tasked with helping them get settled here.”

  The headman took another look at the refugees, expression softening. “I’m sorry to hear that. The fighting hasn’t come this far yet, so you must’ve traveled a ways.”

  “That’s putting it mildly,” the refugee leader replied. Her voice was gentle as a summer stream and just as musical. “I’m Irina. Thank you so much for taking us in. You’ll find that we’re not unskilled. I’m a brewer myself, and we’ve a cobbler among us. Keriel is a seamstress and—”

  “No worries, my lady. We don’t have a lot here, but what there is we’ll share gladly. Ah, I’m Haryk. We can talk more later. Let me send a runner to spread the word.” He grabbed a boy gawking nearby and whispered in his ear. “First off, we’ll need to find families to take in guests while we see about
permanent lodgings…”

  Gavriel stared as things unspooled without him needing to drop Princess Thalia’s name again. For the life of him, he couldn’t recall ever meeting such kind people who did things without asking what was in it for them. He didn’t think fear was driving this aid effort, but maybe the headman was hoping to be rewarded later for his generosity? Probably not a good idea to suggest that aloud.

  It’s the right thing to do. That was Magda’s voice in his head again, damn her, and worry surged forth, twice as strong as before. He’d discharged his duty by getting these folks to safety, and it didn’t look as if his presence as an enforcer would be necessary.

  “I’m going now,” he said abruptly.

  I have to find her. Not because it was right; because it was necessary.

  “Are you sure?” Haryk asked. “It’s a poor idea, sir. The weather’s about to turn, and if you’re still out in it, well, that mistake could mean your life.”

  “So be it,” Gavriel said.

  11.

  For a few moments, Mags stayed down because getting up was too hard. Eventually, she got her head together enough to search the bodies with trembling hands. This time, she found a picture of Gavriel, not Thalia. So he’s been targeted as well.

  That might explain why the group had been carrying an Animari killer, if they knew Mags was traveling with him. Four seemed like a small number for the two of them, though. They’d already taken out more than that—

  Oh.

  Those groups didn’t have the poisoned bullets. If they’d gotten the drop on us, I get taken out in one shot, then they finish Gavriel. Their knives were probably poisoned also, which accounted for her unusual weakness. I’m probably fighting multiple toxins here, including one that’s usually fatal to the Animari.

  Working that out made Mags feel a little better about her weakness, but it didn’t alter anything about her shitty situation. Worse, she was feeling the cold as she normally didn’t, so much that her fingertips were numb, and her bones hurt. She clenched her jaw to stop her teeth from chattering as she forced herself to stand.

  Sparks popped before her eyes, but there was nothing to hold onto. If she fell over, she’d just have to get up again. The air smelled too crisp now, stinging the inside of her nose with the promise of snow.

  She took one step, then another.

  I can do this. Kelnora is that way, right? Hope the group’s doing okay.

  Doggedly, one foot after another, she pushed forward, barely noticing when her sole sliced across a sharp stick half-hidden in the dead leaves and dry grass. Her blood smelled off, likely a result of the poisons her system was trying to filter. More concerning was the crimson trail she’d left behind, an easy way for the enemy to track her. While the Eldritch couldn’t hunt by scent, they had excellent eyesight, and there was no telling what gift one of them might possess. She guessed if an Eldritch had the ability to track down a specific person, they’d already have made their bones as a bounty hunter, however.

  Those thoughts kept her knees from buckling as she forced herself on. The shivers came nonstop, a result of both sickness and cold. With bleary eyes, she surveyed the terrain and she found nowhere that would work for shelter. They’d left the forest behind hours ago, and now the land was all rolling hills, sparsely covered in dry grass and scrubby bushes.

  A convenient cave would be nice, but not if she had to fight a bear to hole up for a while. Time would solve her problem, but exposed to the weather like this, Mags didn’t have much of it. If she froze to death, it would be such a humiliating way to go.

  How far am I from town?

  Mags couldn’t think for the fizzing in her head, but she had been staggering toward Kelnora for what seemed like a long time. Sometimes her legs wouldn’t hold her, and she dropped to all fours. It would be faster if she could muster enough strength to go cat, but she had nothing left.

  The Eldritch sure lived in desolate lands. Their settlements seemed to be few and far between, and they weren’t large. It rankled to see how the common folk lived while the so-called ruling class lived it up with staff running about to boil hot water for their tea. That injustice should have filled her with a fortitude born of indignation but instead of flames for her engine, there was only a sad puff of smoke.

  For the second time in as many minutes, she tumbled to her knees, slicing the left on a rock. Hell, I’m doing more damage to myself than the enemy managed. In trying to get up, she pitched forward and landed on her face. Mags rolled over and let out a long stream of curses; she wasn’t used to failure, but her body just would not fucking cooperate. She balled her hand into a fist, and with great effort, she hauled herself to her feet.

  I can get there. I can.

  Before she took another step, she heard the tell-tale thud of vedda beast hooves over the ground. Coming toward her, fast. There was nowhere to hide, so she didn’t bother to try. If this was to be her last fight, she’d go out with blood on her hands.

  “Finally.” It was Gavriel’s voice, but with a much rougher edge than usual.

  He leapt from Gray’s back and reached her in two steps. At first she thought she was hallucinating and that he was fighting the urge to hug her. His look warmed her from head to toe, a visual ravishment, and he reached out one hand, only to drop it before he made contact.

  Wait, shouldn’t he be with the refugees? Mags tried to ask the question, but when she opened her mouth, no sound came out. At some point, her throat had swollen.

  “Here, take some water if you can.”

  He set the bottle to her lips and she got down a few swallows. She didn’t enjoy playing the damsel in distress, and she was a little pissed that he was out here instead of protecting the helpless Eldritch yet a small part of her was also glad that he’d come looking. Her pride mates would’ve, but she hadn’t expected such kindness from the Noxblade, even if he’d defended her.

  “I tried to call you.” He ran a hand through his hair in visible agitation, making the white tufts stand up like dandelion fluff. Maybe it was the poison fogging her brain, but his dishevelment was kind of cute. “You don’t know how annoyed I was when your phone rang in my pack.”

  She wheezed out a laugh. “Tigers don’t have pockets, genius.”

  “I know that,” he snapped. “According to the local experts, we’re in for some rough weather. Hurry and get dressed.”

  Over the years, Mags had read a few romantic stories and at this stage, the hero always took off his jacket to offer it to the heroine. But Gavriel’s wouldn’t fit; she was broader across the shoulders, and somehow, it touched her more when he chucked her clothes, starting with the underwear, though his pale face went scarlet and he couldn’t make eye contact afterward. He even knelt to help her get her shoes on when she had trouble keeping her balance.

  “I’m ready,” she said huskily.

  He rose slowly. “We should go. You can tell me what happened later. I gather it was nothing good.”

  “It’s a win for our side.” She offered a lopsided smile, twisted by the swelling she could feel in her face.

  Probably from when I fell on it.

  The damage would heal fast, once the poisons left her body. Her wounds weren’t closing properly because of the beryllium, so she looked like shit.

  “Mount up,” Gavriel ordered.

  At the moment, she was so happy to see him and Gray that she didn’t even mind his attitude. Using the last of her reserves, she hauled herself up, and to her surprise, Gavriel mounted behind her, just as he’d ridden with Leena.

  I’m not a kid. The protest hovered on the tip of her tongue, but in the end, she said nothing. Not even when his arms came up around her so he could hold the reins. She tried to hold herself upright, knowing how he felt about casual physical contact, but it was too much effort. Gavriel didn’t say a word when she sighed and leaned back against him. Actually, to her muzzy mind, it felt like he was holding her, but that couldn’t be right. Gavriel hated all Animari, especially her,
and this had nothing to do with the bedroom games they might eventually play for mutual amusement. Before they set off, he tucked a blanket around her, and she mumbled in exhausted expression.

  “Is everyone else all right?” she asked quietly.

  “They’re settled in Kelnora. I ensured their safety before I came looking for you.”

  A startling burst of joy crackled through her. She captured one of his hands and gave it a warm squeeze. Mags was already fading as she whispered, “Thanks. You did the right thing, Gavriel.”

  It was starting to alarm Gavriel how far he’d go to hear those words from this woman. People didn’t praise him. In the guild, they assumed he would complete his missions. The princess certainly hadn’t gone out of her way to offer positive reinforcement; you would never encourage the knife in your hand, after all.

  His temper chewed at the edges of its tether as he fought the urge to shake Magda awake and demand to know what Animari witchcraft she was using on him. Since she was sound asleep in his arms, that would be cruel and irrational. She made him both. She also made him want to be better, to be something else, although he wasn’t altogether sure what shape that change would take.

  Gray was moving slowly, a sure sign that the beast was tired. He hadn’t covered that much ground today, but he’d carried more weight than usual, and he’d gotten slow and indolent from all the time in the stable. Gavriel clicked to the beast softly and nudged with his heels.

  “We’ll be in soon. If you don’t move it, we’ll be caught in the snow.”

  In response, Gray quickened his step, as if he understood that a warm stall and tasty fodder were waiting for him. The weather had turned already, dropping from spring chill to winter ice in a flash. Already, fat, wet flakes were flickering down, melting against Gavriel’s cheeks and sticking to his hair. Gently he pulled the coverlet up to shield Magda’s face. Whatever she’d fought had left her in a hell of a mess.