Into the Fray: Volume 1 of The Sorcerers of Jhanvia Series (22 page)

He cut him off and announced, “This conflict is solely between Satreka and me. No one in this room is to interfere in any way. Is that understood?”

All in the room nodded or quietly spoke up, agreeing to the command.

Satreka drew his sword and Zakrell stepped back to give way.

Kutrik drew his sword and said, “Always remember that I offered to spare your life.”

With that, Kutrik lunged at him and their swords came together with a bright ring that echoed loudly off the walls, knocking Satreka back three steps. Kutrik pursued with an eagerness to dispatch his former protégé, immediately attacking again and driving his opponent toward the back corner of the room. Kutrik passed a sweeping effort that Satreka ducked. The young warlord used the opportunity to maneuver himself away from the corner. Unfazed by Satreka’s prowess, Kutrik again was in pursuit. Satreka defended well against two… three…four successive passes by Kutrik, deflecting and blocking the efforts with his sword as he shuffled backward in defense. Kutrik had driven him toward one of the large tables and when Satreka looked back to get his bearings, the point of Kutrik’s sword creased his chest, slicing open his shirt and causing a superficial wound that crossed his body. It hurt more than it bled.

Sensing weakness, Kutrik was more determined and came at him with a flurry of volleys, driving him about the room. One of his passes
got through and wounded Satreka in the left thigh deeply, causing him to fall backward onto the floor, very near the place where the battle had begun. He made no effort to back away as the big man came and stood over him.

Kutrik was struggling for breath as he said, “Honestly, I wish you would have reconsidered this situation. I always enjoyed our working together. Your insight was refreshing and bold, and I hope in your next life you will put it to good use.”

The clan leader raised his sword with the point down, ready to thrust it into Satreka’s chest. At that moment, a bright flash of green light in the far corner of the room took everyone aback. As the light quickly diminished, from within it Juun and Natilya appeared.

“Natilya?” Satreka was desperate. “Juun, what are you doing?!”

“Nice trick, my young friend, but it will not save you,” Kutrik announced as he tried to push the sword through him. He grunted in an effort to move the sword, but it was held back. He tried again with a bit more effort and a louder grunt, but to no avail. He looked over to Juun, who was standing with an arm outstretched, using his magics to hold him and his sword in place.

Natilya strode confidently toward Kutrik while saying, “So you thought to kill my lover and the father of my child, did you?”

Kutrik stated loudly, “You stupid girl! He’s not in love with you and you are not in love with him. He’s just using you to further his own demented goals.”

“Are you referring to the spell he had Dulica cast on me?” Natilya said over a disdainful laugh. “It must be you who is stupid, old man. Don’t you realize that Dulica is an inept, incompetent peasant? His spell never really worked as he planned. You see, from the first moment I set eyes on him, I was in love with Satreka with all my heart.” She eased up in front of the clan leader, caressed his cheek with her fingers and continued, “And now you stand over my love with a large blade intending to take him from me. What am I to make of that?”

Kutrik grunted as he tried to move, but Juun’s talents were unmatched as he held the large man in place with what seemed so little effort. His eyes hinted at desperation as he explained, “Your presence here is a dire threat to our clan. The Valtyr will most certainly demand your return.”

“Well, they can’t have me,” Natilya flightily responded with a smile as she spun around and looked at Satreka. “I have already sent word that I have renounced my birthright. I have a new life here in this place and it is the life I choose for myself.” She turned back to him and posed, “But you are a threat to that life, aren’t you?”

Kutrik remained silent, his fear a faint light in his eyes.

Natilya answered the question for him, “Yes, you know you are. So, what to do with you?” She touched his face with her soft fingers and ran them along his furry cheeks slowly down to his neck. “You know that the Valtyr are extremely passionate. We would never let anyone get in the way of our love.”

She pushed out her claws on her left hand and pressed them against the side of his neck, then she tipped her head slightly to the right and firmly concluded, “And
you
are in my way.” She drove her claws into the arteries that led to his brain. The blood spewed out onto her hand and arm and flowed down onto her white dress.

Resali saw the blood and screamed, “No!” He took a few steps toward Natilya with his sword at the ready and suddenly found a knife in his chest. Satreka’s number one had acted in defense, delivering a throwing knife into his heart.

“Zakrell….” was his last word as he collapsed face down on the floor.

Gushol lifted his sword with the intent to attack.

Zakrell pointed at him and said, “Ah,ah, careful Gushol. You could go the way of Resali.”

Gushol backed down as Kutrik began to have difficulty breathing. Natilya had punctured his windpipe. It was not long before Kutrik had bled to death. Juun released him and he collapsed to the floor in a lump, his sword crashing loudly onto the stone floor.

Zakrell announced, “Kutrik is dead. All you who supported him must now pledge your allegiance to Satreka or face a similar fate.” He waited a moment, and when no response was forthcoming, he demanded, “Well?!”

Those loyal to Kutrik looked at each other in a contemplative moment, and then sheathed their swords as a sign of capitulation. For now.

Natilya knelt next to Satreka and looked at his wound. The blood was pulsing out from it, creating a small pool on the stone floor. “It doesn’t look like it damaged an artery, but it is very deep. Zakrell, can we get him to my chamber.”

“Of course, my lady.” He pointed to two of the loyal soldiers who knew without instruction what was expected of them. They lifted Satreka up and put his arms over their shoulders, then carried him out of the room. Juun followed closely, just in case his talents were needed.

Zakrell watched them through the main doorway and then turned to Gushol, “Take some men and prepare the funeral pyres for Kutrik and Resali. We will be out in about an hour.”

Gushol had a sullen look about him as he stood over his former leader’s body, the blood slowly seeping across the floor toward his boots.

Zakrell continued, “I understand your consternation, my friend. But have faith. Satreka has a vision for our people that will bring us great success and prosperity. If you give him a chance to prove his worth, I believe you will be pleased with where he takes us.”

“I hope you are right,” he responded with diminished confidence.

The two soldiers performed efficiently and with great determination, quickly carrying their wounded leader up the stairs and down the long hallway. They placed him on her bed, propped up by some pillows. Satreka was in a great deal of pain.

“I need something to sew up the wound,” Natilya stated. “Does anyone have any herbs to assist in healing?”

One of the young soldiers spoke up, “I have a concoction my mother prepared in case I was wounded.”

“Bring it here,” she commanded.

He came over with a small leather purse and handed it to her.

She opened it, smelled the contents and noted, “Excellent.”

He opened a small pouch that was attached to his belt and pulled out a metal needle with cat gut already attached, “This should serve to seal the wound.”

She took hold of it and smiled at him, “Your mother was watching out for you.”

“Aye, my lady, she still is,” he stated with a smile.

The Valtyr said, “Please express our gratitude to her. We will make sure that your supplies are replenished.”

“Thank you,” he said as he backed away and reclaimed his place near the door as Zakrell entered.

“My love, I must sew up the wound. This will be very painful.”

Juun interjected, “Please allow me to assist.” He reached his hand under Satreka’s left hip and a faint golden glow could be seen.

Satreka’s eyes showed his surprise as he stated, “I’ve lost all feeling in my leg.”

Juun explained, “It is only temporary, but it should give you some comfort.”

Natilya lost no time in sewing up the wound, displaying a talent she had nurtured for many years. She placed the herbal mixture on it and wrapped it tightly with some cloth she had ripped from the bed sheets. “My lord, please try not to move. It will take a few days for our efforts here to take hold and it will probably be painful for several days.”

Satreka looked over at the soldiers standing in the room. “Zakrell, Juun, please stay. Could the rest of you give us some privacy, please?”

The soldiers bowed and left the room. The young warlord and the sorcerer came closer.

Satreka shifted a bit in the bed. “Zakrell, I need you to be most vigilant. There will be those who might see these events as an opportunity
to take control for themselves, so we must act quickly to consolidate our leadership position.”

“I understand,” Zakrell responded.

“If I may be sold bold?” Natilya interjected.

“Please, my love, speak your mind.”

“I suggest that you hold court in the great hall to explain your vision for our people. Once they understand the important work being done on their behalf, they most certainly would support you.”

Zakrell noted the smile that came across the face of his friend and stated, “We could place several loyal soldiers on the perimeter of the room to provide protection, while, at the same time, demonstrating the depth of support for you. An action such as my lady suggests would also demonstrate your courage and determination to lead.”

Juun offered, “We could provide a bit of unseen security just in case it is needed.”

“Forthright and direct,” Satreka said with eagerness. “It is a good plan. We should proceed immediately. Zakrell, see to the arrangements. I want this to happen tonight before any thoughts of grandeur have a chance to conjure. Before we convene court, however, we should see to the funeral pyre for Kutrik. I want it to be reverent and solemn. He was a great leader and we must honor his achievements and his courage. We may have disagreed with him, but he still deserves our respect and gratitude for all he has done for our people.”

“I have already instructed Gushol to prepare for the funeral. But your injury…?” Zakrell was concerned.

“I will be all right,” Satreka said determinedly. “This is our moment, my friend. We must grab on with both hands.”

“Very good.”

Satreka looked over at the sorcerer and asked, “Juun, what were you thinking bringing Natilya into that hornet’s nest?”

“She commanded that I help her to see you through your most trying moment. What was I to do? I have not the strength to stand in the way of her demands.”

Satreka laughed at his sarcasm and took Natilya’s hand. “I believe she has that effect on everyone. You and your men wear hoods so your faces are always covered. I want to look you in the eyes and thank you.”

Juun hesitated momentarily, then pulled back the hood of his robe with both hands and let if fall onto his back, revealing his chiseled masculine lines and dark black eyes. For a man in his mid-thirties, his skin was incredibly smooth and unusually light. The warmth of the sun must have never touched him. His long blond curly hair polished off his attractiveness.

“Better,” Satreka commented. “Thank you so much for your help. And most importantly, thank you for protecting my Natilya.”

“I am your lord’s servant,” Juun said as he bowed.

“Gentlemen, may we have some privacy, please?”

Zakrell stated, “I will gather the clan as requested. The funeral rites should be held within the hour.”

“Thank you, my friend. You have earned a place at my side for all time.”

Juun pulled his hood back over his head. Both he and Zakrell bowed and left the room, closing the door behind them.

Satreka asked with a hint of disbelief, “What you said to Kutrik, is it true?”

“Yes, my love.” She leaned over and kissed him on the lips.

He carefully shifted himself over in the bed so she could sit next to him. “So you truly have renounced your birthright?”

“I am happier here than I have ever been in my life. You bring joy to my spirit.”

Satreka could not hide his surprise, “It just seems so surreal. Having you with me feels like a dream that I never wish to awaken from.”

Natilya laughed. “But
it is
real. Soon our child will be with us. The three of us, we will do great things together.”

Satreka said, “If I were to die tomorrow, all would be well knowing that you were with me, even if just for this moment.”

A short time later, Natilya had cleaned herself of Kutrik’s blood and had changed into a dark blue dress with embroidered silver accents, which was one Satreka most favored because it drew out her eyes. A young soldier had helped Satreka by lashing a piece of wood to the outside of his leg in an effort to immobilize the wound. It was fashioned cleverly so that it was concealed under his pant leg. She finished running a comb through her hair when a knock came from the door.