“He can sometimes read the energy of a place, or an object, draw very accurate impressions from what he feels.”
Nachari met Arielle’s troubled gaze with one of compassion. “I can’t choose what information I get—I have no idea what I will or won’t find, or even what the impressions always mean—but I can tell you with certainty, if I pick anything up.” He bowed his head in deference then. “If it is your will.”
Arielle looked positively perplexed. She looked back and forth between Kagen and Nachari, several times in a row; and then she opened her mouth to speak, but nothing came out.
“Arielle,” Kagen prompted, “I know this is a lot to process in a short amount of time—it’s completely unexpected—but you have to know that we may never pass this way again. This may be your only opportunity to learn more about your father…about his passing.” He looked toward the heavens for strength, noticing how the sun was all but absent from the sky, how the deep, heady fog that surrounded the land had grown even thicker, and how the timber wolf moon shone even brighter, more luminescent than he had ever seen it before. “I don’t want to pressure you, but we can’t remain here all day.”
“Keitaro,” she whispered softly.
“Yes,” Kagen said.
She nodded slowly. She dropped her head in her hands and took a deep, steadying breath, and then she turned to face Nachari. “Wizard, do you think you can do this?”
“I can try,” he said quietly.
“Then try,” she said.
Her hands began to shake, and Kagen reached out to grasp them. “Step back with me…over there.” He pointed toward a nearby grouping of conifer trees—the first ten feet of the trunks were bare—and guided her to stand beneath the branches.
Arielle followed willingly, while Nachari squatted low, near the ground.
He splayed his palms wide, pressed them firmly against the earth, and then slowly closed his eyes. The silence was ominous, nearly palpable, and time seemed to completely stand still as Nachari poured his full concentration into the divination.
He seemed a million miles away.
When at last, he shuddered, ever so slightly, and rose from the ground, it was clear by the look on his face that he had picked up a vivid impression.
Kagen and Arielle stepped forward. “What did you see…what did you hear?” Arielle asked eagerly, her expression a mask of both suspense and dread.
Nachari swallowed, his throat softly churning. He met her aquamarine inquiry with a salient forest-green reply. “I felt the energy of a struggle. The presence of several armed combatants, several humans, the taint of lycans”—he slapped the back of his right hand into the open palm of his left, causing them to make a sharp report—“the force of projected voices: shouts, cries, curses. I didn’t get the words. I heard the sound of steel, chiming in the air, like swords being drawn or metal clashing, and I felt the waning…” He paused as if searching for a better way to say it. “The slow abatement of breath, the last moments of sentience, before a body dies.”
Arielle rubbed her arms with nervous energy. Then she stiffened her spine and looked him straight in the eyes. “Is that all?”
“No,” Nachari said softly. And then, despite himself, he dropped his head and turned away. When he finally looked back, it was clear he was searching for courage. “I also heard three distinct words—they were whispered, but they were clear.”
Arielle cleared her throat and absently smoothed her parka. “Who spoke them?”
Nachari shook his head. “I can’t say for sure, but I would presume they were Ryder’s.”
Arielle swallowed hard, and Kagen felt the full weight of her dilemma: Did she really want to know her father’s last words? Would he want to know Keitaro’s? He pushed the thought out of his mind and waited along with the anguished woman.
Whatever it is, tell her, Kagen urged telepathically.
Nachari declined his head in respect and then he held it bowed in reverence. “Arielle, I’m sorry.”
Arielle shook her head. “Don’t be sorry, Nachari. Just tell me what he said.”
Nachari closed his eyes. “I did. That was it, the man’s last three words: Arielle, I’m sorry.”
Arielle gasped and staggered backward. Then she took several steps forward, as if to halt her retreat, and spun around in confusion. When her eyes met Kagen’s, her face was ghostly white. “Oh gods, Kagen, he knew of me.” She stared down at the ground, and her slender shoulders seemed to curl inward. “He came for me.”
Kagen nodded, not knowing what else to say.
She stared blankly at Nachari then. “My father tried to save me, and he failed. He was killed.” She turned once again to Kagen and simply shook her head. “No. Oh…no.” She dropped to her knees and planted her hands in the dirt, scooping fistfuls of soil into her palms as if she could somehow retrieve the relationship she had never had. “Oh, no, Father…no.”
Nachari shook his head sadly at Kagen. He nodded one last time and then shimmered out of view.
Kagen knelt beside her. “Arielle…”
She looked up at him, and her expression was so lost, so barren, so indescribably bleak. “He died then…trying to save me.”
Kagen reached out and ran his hand through her hair. “Oh, sweeting.”
She hugged her arms to her chest and trembled uncontrollably.
He cocooned her body with his, wrapping his arms so tightly around her that it was like encasing her in a shell. “I’m here, angel. I’m here.”
And then she wept.
With her hands in the dirt and her face buried in Kagen’s shoulder, Arielle Nightsong wept for the father she had never had, for the memories they had never made, for all the years she had spent believing he had never cared.
She wept until there were no more tears left to cry.
When, at last, she raised her head, wiped the moisture from her swollen eyes, and gently cleared her voice, her words were full of strength and resolve. “Kagen, this is my father’s final resting place, and while I never knew him in life, I would like a moment alone with him in death.”
Kagen nodded. “I’ll stand back by the trees.”
“No,” she argued, her eyes pleading softly. “Please. There are things I need to say that no one else can hear. I need to be alone with my father…for just a while.” She took his hands in hers and squeezed them. “I promise I won’t linger long. I know we have to move on, to get to the arena.”
Kagen shook his head vehemently. “It’s not that, Arielle. It’s just”—he glanced around the clearing—“we are so close to the slave encampment, to the Royal District. I cannot leave you alone, unprotected.”
She shrugged helplessly, and her pupils narrowed with resolve. “Healer, you are a vampire. You can hear me breathe from five feet away, let alone scream from three dozen yards. Please…the slave encampment is empty. We haven’t seen a single lycan, a single member of Thane’s guard. They are all at the arena.” She held her hands up in frustration. “You have already viewed all of my memories, witnessed all of my pain. There is nothing I have inside of me that has not been laid bare before you, but this, this belongs to me. Only me. Please. Let me have this moment, this time, this private farewell with my father. Just once, do not listen, do not watch, do not hover. Do not treat my most private, intimate moments like they are yours to peruse. He was my father—please, just give me the space that I need. I am too tired, too strung out to beg. I can only ask you: Return to your brothers and give me thirty minutes, one half hour, to say hello and good-bye to my father. Alone.”
Kagen contemplated her words. He wrestled with his overwhelming desire to be near her, to protect her, and his innate understanding of her request. He knew that there were moments that were meant only for one’s soul and the gods. And this was one of them. “Very well, sweeting. I will give you this because I know how badly you need it, and I will not pry or listen in. But should you see so much as a squirrel scampering down from a tree, you must promise to call
out to me.”
She cupped his cheek in her hand and nodded. “I promise, healer.”
Kagen rose slowly. He glanced around the clearing, and then he checked the sky. “It is nearly ten o’clock, Arielle. I hate to be the one to say this, but if we hope to reach the arena by the same time tonight, we cannot tarry. I wish you had more time.”
“I’ll be brief,” Arielle said firmly. And then she stood and forced a feeble smile. “Thank you, Kagen. Once again, you have made your way into my heart.” She stepped forward and placed a soft kiss of gratitude on his cheek. “And please don’t worry…I’m okay. I’ve managed to take care of myself for the last ten years: I think I can handle a half an hour. I’ll be fine.”
Kagen nodded, and then he quietly slipped away, shutting down his hyper-acute senses in order to give her privacy.
eighteen
“Do not move. Do not make a sound. Do not even breathe—or your comrade dies.”
Arielle froze, staring up into the embittered face of the approaching lycan: His eyes were glowing amber with hatred, and she recognized him immediately from her years in the slave camp. It was Lieutenant Jacob Tansy from Teague’s regiment, and he had a pack of omega soldiers with him. What was worse; they were holding Echo at knifepoint, and the sharp, hazardous tip of the blade was pressed so deeply into the rebel’s throat that blood trickled down his neck, staining his dislocated shoulder.
Echo looked moments away from death already.
His brow was soaked with sweat, and his face was gaunt and pale. His lower torso was littered with festering wounds, gaping, open holes, almost as if he had sat on a bed of nails or spikes, and his upper torso was equally damaged: The flesh was torn away from his body in uneven, jagged lines, and his shirt was caked with blood, some dried and brown, some fresh and red. His head lolled forward, even as two guards held him up by his arms, and his feet dragged along the ground as if it were too much effort to walk.
Arielle gasped in horror, and then she became deathly quiet as she quickly assessed the scene, noted the level of danger, and calculated her immediate options: She could fight; she could flee; or she could call out to Kagen and his brothers. Where had the lycans come from? she wondered. And how was it possible that they hadn’t made a sound? That no one had heard their approach?
She glanced toward the far end of the clearing, in the direction of the slave encampment, and thought about how easily Kagen and his brothers had overtaken the rebel soldiers that first night in the cave. She knew the lycans were an entirely different proposition, an entirely different kind of enemy, but she didn’t have any doubt that the Silivasis would prevail, eventually.
Only, not before the lycans killed Echo.
Not before they possibly killed her.
Not before the vampires’ presence in Mhier was exposed, and their hopes of rescuing Keitaro were dashed.
She stared once more at Echo’s battered face and body, and her heart constricted in her chest: He was so close to death already; there was probably little she could do to save him. Whereas, Keitaro? He still had a chance.
“Get up quietly and come with me,” Jacob ordered. By the iron set of his jaw and the unmistakable twitch in his lips, Arielle knew that the lycan wasn’t playing—Jacob Tansy was this close to shifting, as it stood. What she didn’t know was whether or not he had any inkling of the four vampires just on the other side of the thicket, the ones she had asked to shut down their senses and tune her out, to allow her complete privacy, just this once, for a half an hour.
She shook her head, making an immediate decision: No, Lieutenant Tansy had no idea that he was one hundred yards away from his mortal enemy, or he wouldn’t be standing there speaking to her. Still, why was his voice so hushed, and why did he insist upon her silence? Maybe he figured there were other rebels close by. Maybe he wanted to keep her capture a secret, save all the glory and reward for himself.
Why didn’t really matter.
The only thing that mattered now was that Arielle had only one chance to get this right. To make the correct choice. And whatever she chose, whatever she did in this fateful moment, it would affect dozens of lives, irreversibly, for years to come.
She rose softly to her feet, careful to maintain Jacob’s piercing gaze—she was unwilling to provoke him to violence or to alert him to the presence of the vampires: Yes, the Silivasis might save her in time to elude capture—they might—the lycans could certainly kill her faster than the vampires could appear, but there was no way, whatsoever, that Echo would be spared in the process. And as deeply as that concerned her, as much as it broke her heart, it was truly the least of her many concerns: If the Silivasis fought the lycans, their presence in Mhier would be known a day too early; and that was really the long and short of it.
Word would spread from one district to another, and King Thane would have an opportunity to marshal his forces, or worse, to execute Keitaro before the games, to make sure that his despised prisoner was never found or rescued. And ancestors forbid, what if he ended up with another prisoner to torture? The thought of Marquis, Kagen, Nathaniel, or Nachari being resigned to Keitaro’s current fate was more than she could bear.
More than she was willing to risk.
Arielle had no doubt that Kagen would fight to save her, that he would kill for her, that he would die for her if he had to. But where would that leave Keitaro? Where would that leave Keitaro’s sons?
And after all these years…
If even one of the lycans escaped, the Silivasis’ plan would be ruined. Their entire mission would have been in vain. For all of it—every part and parcel—relied on the element of surprise. The vampires intended to storm the arena while invisible, to get to Keitaro before anyone knew they were there, and they hoped to get out just as quickly, before they had to fight the entire lycan army. Oh, they would do so if they had to, but the odds were not stacked in their favor, not with so many Alphas gathered in one place…at one time. An alpha lycan was an even match for an ancient vampire, and as impressive as the Silivasis were, they were only four amongst dozens. And that wasn’t counting the Betas and Omegas.
Staring into Jacob’s calculating eyes, she knew that her fate was sealed: If she left this clearing and went with the lieutenant, she would never see Kagen again. She would never see Keitaro freed.
But she also knew that her sacrifice would not be in vain.
She had already lost the father of her blood; perhaps she could still save the father of her heart.
Drawing in a deep breath for courage, Arielle let her hands drop to her sides as she accepted her inexorable fate: She would rather trade her life for Kagen’s and Keitaro’s than doom so many to death, or worse, than resist for her own selfish gain.
She nodded compliantly at Jacob and held her hands up in the air: “I will not resist you,” she whispered, praying the Silivasis were too far away to hear her surrender.
“We have no time to waste,” Jacob growled with insolence. “I will shift, and you will ride on my back, without incident or complaint.”
Arielle clenched her eyes shut to hide her revulsion: The thought of clinging to Jacob’s matted fur, of straddling his disgusting canine haunches with her thighs, of allowing his wolf to take her to King Thane was abhorrent in every way imaginable. Still, she acquiesced. “As you command.” The words turned her stomach.
As the evil lycan loped forward, shifting in mid-gait, she couldn’t help but think that in the end, she was very much her father’s daughter: She climbed onto the wolf’s back, anchored her fingers in his fur, and whispered a final farewell to the lover she would never have:
Kagen, I’m sorry.
Five minutes seemed like an hour.
Ten minutes seemed like a day.
An entire half hour seemed like an eternity…
Still, Kagen kept his word.
Arielle had a right to say good-bye to her father in privacy—without Kagen, or any of the Silivasis, really—intruding upon her grief. While his brother
s had reluctantly agreed to go along with her request, he’d had to continually remind them, as well as himself, that they could hear her if she screamed; that she was more than capable of taking care of herself; and that soon, they would be on their way to the northern end of the Royal District. Their thoughts needed to remain on Keitaro and the arena, on what was soon to come.
When, at last, the time was up, Kagen placed the last of his gear inside of his pack, disposed of a drained bag of blood, and padded quietly into the forest to retrieve Arielle so the group could move along.
The moment he entered the clearing, the hair stood up on the back of his neck, and he froze. His eyes swept the circular glade in an instant: He scanned the tops of the trees, peered into the shadowed hallows between the various shrubs, and examined every nook and cranny where a human might hide.
Arielle wasn’t there.
He took a deep breath, filtering the air through his nostrils, trying to identify her familiar scent, but nothing came back to him, save the lingering traces of Ryder’s remains.
His heart skipped a beat in his chest.
He took two agitated steps forward, and that’s when he saw the wolf tracks on the ground. That’s when he smelled the lycans…
And he knew…
The bastards had Arielle!
He called out on a telepathic bandwidth to his brothers, and then he summoned all the supernatural speed of his kind and tore off blindly into the forest, tracking the scent like a seasoned hound. His heart pounded with a surge of adrenaline, and his feet felt nearly numb against the ground. Still, he homed in on Arielle’s scent like an eagle, dipping down from the sky, about to snatch a mouse from the ground. His arms and shoulders shook with the desire to strike.
Marquis was there in an instant.
Heading him off at the pass.
He landed in front of him; dove at his chest; and brought him down to the ground with a powerful lurch.
“What the devil!” Kagen saw red.
Marquis thrust a massive hand over Kagen’s mouth. “Be quiet, brother. Stop!”