Marked (40 page)

“I will look after her, don’t worry,” said Lomar, unable to mask his concern.

“I already feel better,” said Jasmine, though her expression betrayed the pain she was feeling as Lomar helped her to sit down—away from the bodies of her fallen companions.

“Lying is not one of your virtues,” smiled Lomar.

“Do I look that bad?”

“Let’s see... I don’t know what looks worse—your bloodstained face and head, the gruesome hole in it, or the sickly pallor of those cheeks and neck.”

“That bad, eh? I have to admit I felt really dizzy when I stood up, and my head is killing me.”

“Just rest a while. The fact you’re alive is a miracle. You need time to recuperate. Here, let me clean off your face...” Lomar picked up a canteen of water and, with the help of his old handkerchief, tried to wipe off the dried blood covering her head and face.                           

“Why is it that every time I get in a tight spot you turn up?”

“And here I thought you would be glad I made it back safe and sound from the bowels of this awful cave.”

“I didn’t say I wasn’t happy to see you’re alive—just like I’m glad that Aliana, Kendas, and Mortuc are all right.”

“Aren’t you just a tiny bit happier to see
me
?”

“What are you trying to do—sweet talk me?”

“Sweet talk? Me? Absolutely not! I’m just trying to get the blood off your beautiful face. Someone has to do it, and I just happened to be nearby...”

“Even in the worst situations, can you not stop chasing after me?”

“I think that bump on the head is worse than we thought! I’ll have to go get Aliana; you’re delirious!”

“Your intentions are crystal clear to me—but I don’t know if my clairvoyance is due to the bump or not.”

“No, I think you’re probably just feverish,” said Lomar as he continued wiping off the blood stuck to Jasmine’s forehead.

“Delirious or not, you won’t get what you want.”

“And what exactly is it I want, if I may ask?” he asked sarcastically.

“You know perfectly well what I’m talking about!” exclaimed Jasmine. “You can’t win; I’m devoted to the Order, to my Sisters, to my duty to protect. There is no place for you in my life—not for you or any other man.”

“I didn’t even ask you for anything yet...”

Jasmine looked into Lomar’s eager, hopeful eyes. As he gently cleaned her forehead, he stared back into her bright green eyes, struggling to endure the piercing gaze that revealed a flicker of excitement. Softly he brushed aside the black locks of hair that covered her brow. The two of them gazed silently at one another, both sensing the tension, their eyes sparkling with a budding passion. Everything around them disappeared into the half-light; it was just the two of them now, in this unique space and time. Caught up in feelings he could not suppress, Lomar moved his lips near Jasmine’s. With her face in his hands, Jasmine did not pull away, knowing what was about to happen; somewhere inside, in the very depths of her soul, she wanted this—regardless of how much she tried over and over to deny it.

Lomar kissed her.

A long, passionate kiss.

They allowed themselves to be carried away by the passion discovered in that intimate, burning kiss, every inch of them feeling the excitement of their stolen moment. Lomar pulled Jasmine to him, enraptured with desire.

Feeling the Lancer’s body against her, Jasmine could barely breathe. As passion awakened intense emotions in her, she was startled to feel a warm glow within her. And each time she would try to resist, those feelings took over; forcing her to allow herself to be carried away by the heat of the moment.

There, in that distant and dangerous land, surrounded by death and desolation, two people were filled with happiness for a few intense but brief moments.

Moments that neither of them would ever forget.

An hour later, Sergeant Mortuc signaled to the group that they should wait for him as he crouched down and moved along the right wall toward the mouth of the cave where he stayed for a time, looking out toward the forest.

He slowly returned to the group, taking care not to make a sound.

“They are camped out just two hundred paces from the cave’s entrance. I counted three dozen. We can’t hold up against that many of them,” whispered the Sergeant.

“We can’t stay here. We have very few provisions left and Haradin needs care,” reasoned Gerart.

“The horses are hidden in a glen about five hours from here, deep inside a forest of beech trees. If we could get to them, we could escape,” suggested Lomar.

“Let’s wait until nightfall when we can slip away in the shadows,” instructed the Sergeant. “Remember—the descent will be snow-covered, so be ready. I don’t want any accidents.”

“All right. Let’s rest. Then we’ll all leave behind anything shiny that could call attention to us in the night. Leave all your metal armor. We must be sure they cannot see us,” stated Gerart.

The hours slowly crept by. Dressed in only dark clothing, the group waited for their chance to make their getaway, their hearts still feeling the weight of the pain from the death of their companions.

Aliana knew the probability of success was minuscule but also knew they had to try. They could not stay there.

She began to shiver as fear invaded her.

The night was warm and the beautiful full moon shone high in the sky, reigning majestically over the clear firmament, an infinite sea sparkling with small shining stars. Hartz and Kayti walked quietly through the sleepy, deserted city streets toward the Flying Horse Inn. They had spent the entire day with Father Abbot Dian, at his request, examining in great detail the magnificent Ilenian two-handed sword they had recovered from the tomb of the underground temple beneath the lighthouse—the sword of the supposed King of the Lost Civilization. In accordance with the terms they had established with Lindaro, the sword remained outside the agreement entered into with the Temple of the Light, the terms of which indicated they were to hand over the valuable objects they had discovered in the tomb. Hartz had vehemently refused to part with it, no matter what price had been offered.

The diligent priests had begun with a study and analysis of the precious object as soon as Hartz and Kayti had arrived at the temple that morning. Close examination of the extraordinary weapon had revealed that this was no ordinary sword; its steel was composed of an unidentified material that had somehow stood the test of time without any sort of deterioration. Even the double blade was still so sharp it could cut a feather in midair—which had greatly surprised the priests since, no matter how hard they’d tried to protect weapons from the punishments inflicted by the passage of time, they had always suffered some degree of deterioration. The Temple’s scholars were greatly intrigued by both the cross-guard with mystic runes surrounding it as well as the sword’s enormous hilt in the shape of a cross that had intricate golden engravings in the strange language of the Ilenians. With infinite patience they carefully and meticulously recorded and drew each and every one of the characteristics of the exquisite sword, making—down to the tiniest of details—multiple sketches of the different parts. They measured each component and weighed the sword, making note of each measurement on the drawing they were creating to scale. Working tirelessly all morning and afternoon to carry out their inspection and testing of the sword, they rested only long enough to enjoy a humble meal. Only when day had turned into night did they suspend their examinations, deciding to continue their studies the following day. It was then that Hartz and Kayti had said goodbye to the hard-working scholars and had left the Temple to head back to the inn and enjoy a late meal. And even though they would return after hours, Bandor, the innkeeper, who was a kind-hearted man, would no doubt serve them a delicious meal along with the latest rumors and gossip about the imminent war making the rounds in the city.

They curved toward the East and took a deserted street that led to the inn. As if wanting to make sure it was still there after a day spent in the hands of others, Hartz kept one hand on the great Ilenian sword hanging across his back. Contact with the leather sheath in which the weapon rested was reassuring to him.

Even though the day was wasted in the company of priests, watching while they completed their interminable studies, Kayti’s presence had lightened Hartz’s spirit in a way he did not completely understand. For some unknown reason, the mere presence of the young girl with fire-red hair had him smiling like a nitwit. And not only that, but every time the girl stood near him or even looked at him, Hartz experienced what he could only describe as a sweet confusion followed by an odd sensation in the pit of his stomach. Whenever he was near the freckled warrior, he felt clumsy and his movements became even more awkward than normal—stumbling over furniture and sending decorations and the like rolling across the floor. She, on the other hand, moved with such grace and elegance—even dressed in heavy armor—that it only amplified his clumsiness, or at least that’s how it seemed to him. And what made matters worse was that he had never been comfortable in social situations, especially around strangers, as was the case with the priests at the Temple. Kayti on the other hand, seemed to have an innate skill for conversing and discussing complex concepts and other topics with the priests. He had carefully observed her, marveling at how she would start conversations with the priests about all kinds of complicated subjects. In that environment it was easy to see that she had enjoyed a refined education and was blessed with a well-formed, well-fed intellect. Hartz was beginning to suspect the redhead was hiding something beneath the façade of Initiate of the Custodial Brotherhood. These revelations both dazzled and displeased him since, if they were accurate, it meant the girl had not told them the whole truth. On top of that, it made his lack of education stick out like a sore thumb. Norriel were a people born for battle and not for studying the arts, and that only accentuated his own deficiencies and limitations. 

As they walked back to the inn, he shook those unpleasant thoughts out of his mind and decided to gather a bit more information about the redheaded warrior.

“You haven’t told me much about yourself, Kayti. Where are you from?” he asked, trying to sound casual.

“I was born and raised in the outskirts of the capital of the kingdom of Irinel, in a small town.”

“The kingdom of Irinel? I don’t know anything about Irinel. You said it was far away, to the east, right?”

“Yes, my nation is really far from here. It’s way east of here, and a little to the north, past the vast steppes of the Masig, beyond the extensive forests of the Usik, past the Forgotten Mountains and The Thousand Lakes—”

“Wow! That does sound far!” whistled Hartz.

Kayti smiled. “Tremia is a massive continent. There are a lot of nations I suppose you Norriel haven’t heard of. Don’t get me wrong; I don’t mean to offend you or your people. I just mean there are many kingdoms in the east and north of the continent that the people in the west don’t know about.”

“You didn’t offend me. After all, I’m just a barbarian from the highlands who knows his limitations,” laughed Hartz.

“I think there is much more to you than what you let people see,” smiled the redhead.

They walked for a while as Hartz thought about the answers he’d gotten.

Still suspicious—since her answer didn’t fit with his suppositions—Hartz continued questioning. “Do your parents still live there? Are they farmers?”

“Yes, my parents enjoy a quiet life on a small farm near the capital.”

“That’s nice... And how did you end up in the Custodial Brotherhood? I had never heard of that before. Of course, now that I mention it, I hadn’t ever heard anything about the people of your kingdom, either,” he said, smiling.

“I’m beginning to realize you Norriel live a bit isolated from the rest of the world,” she said with a mischievous smile. “Where are all these questions coming from, anyway? I believe I’ve told you everything you need to know about me.”

Hartz cleared his throat. “Well, honestly, I may not be the brightest guy there is, but I feel like you’re hiding something from me. Is there a reason why you haven’t told me the whole truth?”

Kayti blushed and then her expression turned ice cold.

“What do you mean? I’m politely answering your questions even though I don’t have to tell you anything.”

“No, you don’t have to answer me if you don’t want to. But I can tell you’re not being completely sincere with me; you’re hiding something which leads me to believe I can’t trust you,” he warned, shaking his finger at her.

Kayti looked sharply at the accusing finger.

“I’m sorry that’s how you see it. I can assure you that you
can
trust me, but if you don’t want to, that’s your prerogative,” she replied, her tone purposefully indifferent.

“Come on, Kayti. I think it’s time you told me the truth. What are you doing here? What are you after?”

She continued walking without answering.

Hartz followed her in silence. The tension between them mounted with each step they took.

Just then, Hartz heard a faint sound coming from behind him. He turned his head to see what was breaking the peacefulness that had reigned over the quiet street they’d been walking along. He noticed movement. A shadow was slinking through the darkness, rapidly approaching behind them on the right. Hartz’s fighting instinct sent an alarm screaming through his brain that put all his senses on immediate alert. Adrenaline coursed through him; every muscle in his body tensed in anticipation of danger.

“Look out!” shouted Hartz as he quickly turned to face the potential attack.

An arrow skimmed his head.

As he turned, he saw they were being attacked by several veiled figures wielding swords and daggers. Ignoring the arrow that had narrowly missed him, he focused on the danger closest to them. Based on the way their pursuers moved and handled their weapons, Hartz knew instantly these were not just simple ruffians, and he was rarely wrong about that sort of thing. Luckily he had sensed the threat in time—that hint of a sound coming from behind them might well have saved their lives. Luck was temperamental like that; sometimes it was on your side, sometimes it abandoned you and its whims could have devastating effects on the lives of mere mortals. In one swift motion he unsheathed the great Ilenian sword hanging across his back and, smoothly continuing the motion, brought the sword down on the first of the attackers who was almost close enough to mortally stab him.

We are separated by only a short distance, dear ruffian, but I am still beyond your reach.
He split open the attacker’s skull with the mighty sword.

Fortunately for me, but not so much for you, my sword gives me a reach far superior to yours, you unlucky man.
He smiled as he looked at the massive breadth of the now bloody sword.

Alarmed by Hartz’s warning and the ensuing commotion, Kayti turned just in time to see the next attacker coming at them. As she turned, an arrow bounced off the armor covering her shoulder.
He was aiming for my heart; thankfully it didn’t go through my armor. This damn garb weighs as much as a horse but it’s times like this when it’s worth its weight in gold.
She noticed two more attackers silently approaching behind her and unsheathed her weapon just in time to block the first strike at her neck. With a twist of her slender wrist she counterattacked, aiming a thrust at the face of the closest enemy. He blocked it with his dagger and prepared to attack again. Not giving him time to make a move, Kayti launched a rapid combination of attacks, but the aggressor defended himself with the skill of a soldier well-accustomed to battle.

He’s no weakling... probably a mercenary.

The second attacker came at the redhead. She quickly blocked the assailant’s strikes, which were aimed primarily at her head since her adversaries knew it would be difficult to pierce the armored plates she was wearing. They protected her but the weight of the armor would eventually wear her out. She blocked several more blows by both enemies who now were teaming up on her, then took a step back.

Just as she looked to the left out of the corner of her eye, she saw Hartz running toward them with his sword raised. Executing a lethal arc through the air, he decapitated the aggressor to her left. The head of the doomed man fell at his feet but his body, completely rigid, remained upright as time seemed to stand still for an instant. Kayti stood there, taking in the bizarre scene. She blinked and the lifeless body crumpled as time resumed its course. Kayti turned her eyes to Hartz and saw that he had two arrows stuck in his left shoulder and a third in his right forearm. It turned Kayti’s stomach to see he was wounded.

A brutal thrust came toward her throat but Kayti managed to dodge it with a swift block a split second before Hartz impaled the attacker on the massive Ilenian sword with a powerful thrust. The assailant’s eyes grew wide when he saw he’d been stabbed clean through. Howling in agony, his face went blank; he was dead before Hartz had even pulled out the sword.

Another arrow coming from up the street ricocheted off Kayti’s armor. Two figures with bows were positioned there.  

“Take cover!” she shouted to Hartz, pointing toward a wall jutting out from one of the houses that would protect them from the barrage of arrows. They ran to take refuge there.

Hartz’s was breathing heavily. He felt strange but attributed that to the wounds from the arrows. He hoped they weren’t terribly serious since the chain mail he was wearing beneath his old jacket had somewhat stopped the arrows’ impact and kept them from penetrating too deeply. Only one of them had actually caused a deep wound.

“Take them out of me, please.”

“Are you sure? I wouldn’t recommend pulling them out; you should have a surgeon do it.”

“All right. Just break them, then.”

Kayti broke off the three arrows with three swift snaps of the wrist, then looked at Hartz with an expression of sincere concern.

When she’d broken the arrow on his forearm, a thin stream of blood had begun to trickle down the Norriel’s wrist and onto his hand. When it reached the hilt of the ancient weapon, the sword emitted a brief, golden flash that began at the hilt and ran down the blade all the way to its lethal point. The golden gleam pulsed three times, creating three golden flashes, and then disappeared completely. Hartz knew then that the strange sensation he’d been feeling had been coming from this remarkable Ilenian relic.

Astonished, he looked to Kayti for some kind of explanation but she looked as perplexed as he was and offered no answer. Before either of them could comment on the incredibly strange phenomenon they had just witnessed, six men appeared on their left, blocking their escape route at the lower end of the street. Kayti looked anxiously at Hartz who was realizing that this ambush was not a robbery or chance attack; they had come to kill them.