Emerging from Exile: The Listra Chronicles, Book 1

Chapter 18 – Dread

Amora woke with an overwhelming sense of dread. Thankfully, she didn’t see Zel. She figured he must be relieving himself, so she had a minute or two to herself.

Okay, Amora, what is this that you’re feeling now? Her heart thundered in her chest. Okay, breathe. In. Out. In. Out. No improvement. Dammit. Alright, focus. Focus and breathe. Examine the feeling. What is it? What is it trying to tell you?

Zel walked back into their camp. Shit. Amora closed her eyes and hoped he’d think she was still sleeping. She needed some time to figure this out. Thankfully, he wasn’t an emotional firestorm this morning. Might he actually be in a good mood?

Oh, but no. Whether he was in a good mood or not didn’t matter. Now that he was back at the camp, she could tell the dread was directly associated with him. Something terrible was going to happen to him. What? What is it? Come on Amora. Figure it out. Ugh. Why can’t I know what I want to know? Bloody useless ability.

Leyal’s cold nose touched her cheek. Zel must have sent him to wake her. Argh. She needed more time. This sense of dread was too powerful to be ignored. Maybe she could stall? She felt things might be okay if they stayed put.

She stirred and pretended she was waking up.

“Good morning,” he said with a lilt in his voice she hadn’t heard before.

He’s awfully chipper, isn’t he?

“Is it?”

“Still not feeling well?” he asked.

Oh, that’s right, she’d been sick the day before. She could use that. “No, not really.”

He went to her, put a hand on her forehead. “Hmm. You feel a little clammy. Odd. The poison should be out of your system by now.”

The sense of dread coupled with her nervousness must have made her break out in a cold sweat without realizing it. Perfect.

“It’s okay. You rest a while longer,” he said, “We’re in no hurry.”

Oh, thank the Gods. More time.

She spent a while trying to focus on the feeling to see if she could get something more than an overwhelming sense of dread with no apparent cause. No matter how hard she focused, nothing more came to her. Finally, she decided to get up to eat breakfast and clear her head, at least as much as possible considering she couldn’t completely eliminate the feeling. But she’d try to avoid focusing on it for a while. Sometimes focusing helped. Other times, the opposite seemed to work.

Zel ate breakfast with her. “So, I wanted to ask you about your abilities,” he said.

Oh, for fuck’s sake, Zel. Of all days, today is the day you finally decide to initiate a conversation? After nearly a week, today is the day? Internally, she rolled her eyes. Out loud, she said, “I’m sorry, I’m really not up for it right now. Do you mind if we wait until later?”

“No, of course not.” He paused, looked at her intently, then asked, “Are you alright, girl?”

“Just still not feeling well is all.”

He nodded and seemed satisfied with her answer.

They both stayed silent through the rest of breakfast. She tried to concentrate on her food. Sure enough, her mind cleared and something more came to her while they were eating. But it wasn’t good. The dread she was feeling had to do with the small farming village Zel visited the day before. They had to avoid that village at all costs. But how was she going to get him to avoid the village?

She didn’t know what to do. If she told him, he’d probably go rushing toward the village, not away from it. So, after breakfast, she did everything she could to stall their departure. But she had no solution and could come up with only so many ways to delay before there was no option but to leave.

Once they were only a short distance from the village, she asked if they could stop so she could relieve herself.

“Again? That’s the third time in less than an hour.”

She was out of excuses. Maybe she could find another wyrapede to step on? Oh, but going through that illness again would be awful. Still. Whatever they were riding into was worse. She just knew it. She just didn’t know what it was. She walked off the narrow dirt road into the woods to pretend to take care of business, but all she did was prop her arm up on a tree and lean her head against it trying to think of some way to avoid whatever it was that awaited them ahead.

Zel was too smart for her and followed. His voice came from behind her. “Alright, girl, enough with the act. What’s going on with you today?”

She was well out of excuses. Now, he’d caught her. Shit. She moved her head away from the tree. “I’m still not feeling well is all.”

“Don’t bullshit me, girl. I’m older than I look. You’re not going to fool me so easily. Out with it. Now.” His tone was even lower than usual and she could feel frustration emanating from him.

Pacing between the trees, she wouldn’t look at him, didn’t know how to tell him. She knew well enough the moment she said anything, he was going to do the exact opposite of what she wanted him to do. But it was truth time. He wasn’t falling for this game anymore. Yet, she couldn’t seem to speak, couldn’t get the words out. She was too afraid he might not live through the day if she told him. She continued to pace.

He blocked her way, stood before her so she had no choice but to either stare at his chest or look up and meet his gaze. She looked up.

“What is it, girl?” he said in a voice so low and menacing it would frighten most people.

And even though she was slightly taller than the average Orman woman, looking up at him this close with him looking down upon her made her feel dwarfed by a giant. She might not fear him, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t be intimidating. She hesitated. “Before I tell you, you have to promise me you’re going to stay here and not move. You have to give me your word.” She said the words knowing there was no way he would comply.

“What do you mean? You want me to stand in this very spot? What foolishness are you talking about?” His eyes narrowed.

“No. Let’s go back. We can go back to where we made camp last night,” she said in desperation.

“We’re not going back. We’re going to the village then to Veyforge.”

“No!” She was firm, even emphatic, in her demand though she knew any attempt to command him was as ridiculous a notion as a gnat trying to command a lion.

“No? What do you mean no?” He pursed his lips and crossed his arms making his chest appear wider and his already massive shoulders bulge even more than they usually did.

She turned from him and began pacing in the other direction. He grabbed her arm and held her in such a way that it didn’t hurt her in the least, yet she was certain there would be no way she could wrest herself from his grip if she tried. “Tell me.” His voice was a deep growl.

She bit her lip. He waited, his unwavering gaze piercing her. “I can’t tell you.” Sweat began to bead on her forehead.

“Why not?”

“Because I fear you’re going to get yourself killed if I tell you.”

His jaw clenched. She could see the muscles twitch. “Girl, you either tell me now, or I’m going to ride into that village without you.”

“The village is the problem. You can’t go into the village. Something terrible is going to happen to you if you do.” There. She said it. Maybe he’d listen to reason now.

“Happen to me or to my woman?”

“His” woman? When did she become “his” woman? Shit. And it was too late to take back what she’d said and she knew he’d never forgive her if she lied and something happened to Peela. She had no choice but to tell him the truth now. “I don’t know. The warning isn’t clear. I just know something horrible is going to happen if you go to the village today. You can’t go. Please, please don’t,” she begged, her eyes pleading for him to listen.

“Girl, you know better. If there’s any chance something could happen to Peela, I have no choice.”

“But you might die!” She was becoming more frantic by the second. He, on the other hand, seemed irritatingly calm.

“Do not fear for me, girl. If a Listra warrior dies in the protection of a female, it is an honorable death. It is not something to fear and certainly not something I would ever run from.” He turned on his heel. “We must go now. Should we come upon danger, you keep back. Do you hear me?”

She was barely able to keep up with his strides. She knew this would happen.

“Do you hear me, girl?” He stopped and turned to look at her.

“Yes, Sir. I hear you.”

He turned and began walking with those huge strides again. They got on their horses and rode as quickly as they could, so much more quickly than she would have liked. Before they reached the edge of the village, Zel stopped and silently signaled for her to stop as well. He dismounted and helped her off her horse with one hand while putting his finger to his lips with the other letting her know to keep quiet. He signaled for her to stay put with the horses and all three of his strata while he went ahead.

She held the reins and peered at him until he was far enough away that she felt safe tying off the horses. Leaving them and the cart, she took only the dozen throwing spikes with her, and moved toward the village with Leyal by her side, Essy around her waist, and Bubo flying silently from tree to tree as they made their way.

Because she couldn’t move nearly as quietly as he could and she knew he had enhanced hearing from the bonds he shared with his strata, she kept her distance and hoped his animals wouldn’t tell him she was on the move. She knew they wouldn’t go to him, that he’d left them instructions to protect her and they wouldn’t leave her side, but that didn’t mean they wouldn’t tattle.

He reached the edge of the tree line and froze. Even with the distance between them, she felt fear emanate from him. It washed over her so forcefully that it made her queasy and she had to steady herself. Then, though she knew she shouldn’t, though she knew he’d be furious with her, she had to get closer. She had to see what he was seeing, what could possibly cause this ordinarily fearless warrior to feel so much fear.

When she got close enough, her eyes landed on a man, one as inordinately large as Zel, but with shaggier hair and a long beard. He was standing next to a stone well near the edge of the scantily populated farming village holding a knife to the throat of a petite, brown-haired woman. Amora knew, with how much fear she felt coming from Zel, that it must be ‘his woman’, his Peela, who was being threatened.

“Shit, this is bad, Leyal. Very, very bad.” she whispered to the wolf next to her.

The Listra man and Peela were surrounded by a group of men on horses. Amora took a quick count. Eleven men. All except two were huge, but none of the huge men were surrounded by the Orman light. It was mid-morning and the sun shone bright, so she couldn’t see the red animal light, but they were Listra. They had to be. One of the smaller men had the Orman light, the other had none at all. Maybe a Myara?

Zel stepped out of the woods and walked toward them with determined strides. She felt rage overtake his fear. The queasiness in her stomach vanished only to be replaced by an increased heart rate and blood pumping thunderously throughout her body.

She moved closer to the edge of the village, tried to get close enough to hear the men but yet remain unseen. Zel stood with his back to her about ten feet from the man with the dagger to the woman’s throat. She might not be able to see his face, but she could see the face of the woman and her captor. He wore a smug smile and her eyes held terror. The horses were restless betraying the unease of the men who sat upon them.

A large bird flew out of a tree in the distance, one Amora thought unusual for the area. A falcon maybe? It caught her eye and felt significant though she couldn’t place why. She thought it might be a strata to one of the men in the group. Yes, yes, the Listra with the lightest skin – a tan like hers – and short, dirty blonde hair. His horse stood to Zel’s left and the falcon was associated with him. She was sure of it. But why was it significant? Yet another mystery. The limitations to her ability (or curse) were so often frustrating. She’d always get clues but was rarely granted a full picture.

She moved a little closer, as close as she dared, just to the tree line, then behind a wooden shed. She ushered Leyal into the shadows and out of sight, then peered around the shed’s wall and tried as hard as she could to listen.

Zel looked at Osmet with a steely gaze. “Leave her be. She’s done you no harm.”

“Why do you care, Zelstrason?” Osmet asked. “Why do you care so much for the Orman whores? The Orman men don’t even give a shit about them.” He held Peela securely by the hair in his enormous grip, twisted her head, and spit in her face.

Zel clenched his fists. The veins in his neck and temples bulged. “Your quarrel is with me, Osmet. Leave the female be.” His voice was deep and gravelly, the wolf’s growl mixing with his speech.

“Oh, isn’t that interesting,” Osmet said slowly. “This bitch really does mean something to you. How delightfully convenient.” He smiled wickedly. “Hmm. Tell me, Zelstrason, how much is she worth to you? What will you give me to let her live? Will you give your life so I can be rid of you once and for all?”

“No! You mustn’t,” Peela begged. “Don’t do it!”

Osmet put the knife to her cheek. “You’d better keep your little Orman mouth shut if you want to live, bitch.”

Zel’s blood boiled so much he could barely think. But Terber and Buzan were there, two of his Listra, warrior loyal to him. He knew with everything in him they would never turn on him. Still. Even with them on his side, it was three to nine and Peela had Osmet’s blade at her throat. If he made a move, she was dead. There was no option. “Do I have your word you’ll let her live, never come near her again?”

Osmet grinned, and it wasn’t friendly. “Yes, Zelstrason, you have my word. Your little, Orman whore gets to live.”

Zel didn’t trust him, not at all. But what choice did he have? “And you don’t touch her,” Zel growled with the anguish in Peela’s eyes tearing at his insides.

“Oh, come now, Zelstrason, we Listra share our females. You couldn’t possibly mind if my Listra and I take turns mounting her over your dead body before we leave, could you? You wouldn’t have to worry; we’d pay the bitch.” Osmet licked Peela’s temple. She winced and tried to shirk away from him, but he held her firmly in place.

“Don’t touch her,” Zel commanded in a deep bass.

Osmet burst into a loud guffaw. “Shut up, Zelstrason. You’re not in charge here. I am. Now remove your weapons and toss them toward me or I slit this little thing’s throat.”

“You mustn’t!” Peela pled.

He hesitated.

Osmet nicked her just enough so a single drop of blood slid down her neck. “Now, Zelstrason. I won’t tell you again.” This time Osmet’s voice was laced with a growl. “Your weapons or your little Orman bitch dies.”

“Don’t do it!” Peela begged again and Osmet shook her small frame violently in response. “Shut up, whore.” He turned back to face Zel. “You’d better decide soon, Zelstrason. Your bitch is beginning to annoy me.”

Zel had to try to save her. There was no choice. He tossed both his swords and both his daggers into the space between himself and Osmet.

“Good. Good,” Osmet said. “Very good.” His smile transformed from smug to evil. “Now, unlike when I did your precious Voenna in, you get to watch me kill this bitch of yours right in front of you.”

Zel’s eyes grew wide. His heart stopped. He couldn’t breathe. What did he just hear? Osmet killed his Voenna? He stood stunned with his mouth agape, and then horrified as Osmet ran his blade across Peela’s neck. He fell to his knees. “Nooooo!” he yelled and held his arms outstretched as a sea of red covered Peela’s peasant dress. Her head flopped back unnaturally before Osmet discarded her and rushed toward him. He lunged for his weapons but couldn’t see. Red blanketed his vision.

Pain. Rage. Guilt. Sorrow.

Through the haze, he felt the hilt of one of his swords and wrapped his hand around its grip instinctively. Everything moved in slow motion. He saw Terber swing his blade in a smooth whoosh cleanly removing the head of the warrior on the horse next to him. Buzan plunged his sword into the heart of the warrior adjacent him. Two Listra took off on their horses deserting the group.

Osmet’s blade came crashing down.

He stopped thinking, merely acted on instinct, pulling his sword and blocking at the last second. He shed Osmet’s blade, rolled away, and launched to his feet. Osmet was already there. Their swords clashed, but it was two blades against one and Osmet wielded his with remarkable speed and dexterity, swinging each over and over without reprieve, so much faster and stronger than he’d been years ago. Zel blocked each swing with matching speed but, with only one sword, he was at a disadvantage and losing ground quickly. He retreated through the open space around the well, circling it, with Osmet following his every move like they were engaged in a macabre dance of death.

He had no way out of this. If they continued with Osmet’s two swords against his one, Osmet would eventually get the better of him. He shifted his mouth and jaw into that of his dire wolf and snapped at Osmet, grazing the side of his face, but not enough to have any impact. Osmet’s mouth and jaw shifted into a wolf’s, gray in color. He bit back and fell shy of Zel’s muzzle by merely an inch. They growled furiously and snapped at each other viciously, each barely missing several times before Osmet lost one of his swords in the scuffle. For a brief moment, Zel had the upper hand. But he tripped on a rock, lost his footing for just a second, just long enough for Osmet gain ground, putting him on the defensive once again.

Osmet took advantage of the opportunity swinging his sword again and again in quick succession forcing Zel to retreat with each relentless, pounding assault until, eventually, he ended up on his back. Osmet’s sword descended, along with all his weight and incredible strength. Zel blocked, but to no avail. He watched the tip of Osmet’s blade lurch forward as his gave way, and cried out in agony when it slowly pierced his thigh.

A glint of steel caught his eye. They’d landed just within reach of his discarded weapons. He released his block and grasped for them allowing Osmet’s blade to give way and tear through his leg completely. The move was excruciating, but it threw Osmet off balance and let him grab his dagger. Osmet saw him reach for it and backed away ripping his sword from Zel’s leg, but not nearly fast enough. Zel slashed upward using the lightning speed of his death snake, and Osmet screeched as the blade sliced his face through his right eye.

That didn’t stop Osmet though. With one hand held over his eye, he slashed his sword toward Zel aimlessly and connected, slicing a gash into the front of Zel’s other leg at the shin. At the same time, Zel lifted his blade as high as he could from his position on the ground and ran it through the back of Osmet’s thigh deeply enough that he collapsed. Osmet cried out so loudly the Orman villagers shuttered in their houses were sure to have heard him. Zel tried to swing at him once more, but he’d fallen out of reach.

Voltan and an unknown warrior rushed toward them. Zel lifted his sword, prepared to block an attempted death blow, but none came. Instead, they lifted Osmet, carried him to their horses, and fled. Osmet must have told his warriors he needed the killing blow, and he would if he wanted the respect required to take the throne. Zel looked at his leg, at the blood pouring out of the wound at an all too fast a rate. Osmet may have already dealt that blow.  

Chapter 19 – Angel Healer

Amora ran to the horses as fast as she could to get Zel’s healing elixirs. When she returned, Zel was leaning propped against the stone well by his shoulder with Peela in his arms, her hair draped over him, and a large pool of blood surrounding them. A dark streak of crimson ran from where Osmet stabbed Zel to where his leg sat now, and an even larger pool coated the ground where Peela’s body had been before Zel pulled her into his arms. Two Listra besides Zel remained, the one Amora dubbed falcon-man and one other whose shoulder was badly injured.

Before she stepped out from the forest, she glanced around the village center. The Orman’s were still shuttered inside, though one of the inn’s windows caught her eye when the curtain covering it moved. It seemed someone was checking to see if the Listra has gone, if it was safe to go outside.

As Amora left the woods and entered the village, both sadness and crushing guilt overwhelmed her bringing her to her knees. She cupped her face in her hands as tears rolled down her cheeks. Gods, Zel. Holy shit. The tears intensified until she was sobbing. She had to stop this. Okay, Amora, these are his emotions, not yours. You’re not feeling this, he is. It took several tries to convince herself and pull herself together but, after what felt like far too long, she rose from the ground more composed. As she made her way to Zel, she kept repeating, “They’re his emotions, not yours.” in her head. Tears still pooled, but she forged ahead, blinking to clear her eyes of them.

Falcon-man leaned over Zel’s leg, his hands tightly pressed against the bloodiest wound quelling the flow. The darker haired Listra sat awkwardly slumped against the opposite side of the well, with a deep, angry gash in his shoulder and his arm drooping unnaturally. As she approached, Essy hissed and Leyal bared his teeth. The man leaning over Zel’s leg scrambled backward, drew his sword, and assumed a fighting stance.

She’d been so focused on getting to Zel with the elixir, she’d forgotten she still had Essy around her waist and Leyal trotting next to her like a loyal dog. “I mean to help him.” She assured the man as she knelt next to Zel’s leg.

Zel whispered to Peela, “I’m sorry my little mouse. I’m so sorry. I never meant to hurt you, my beautiful Peela. I’m so sorry.” His emotions, crushing in their intensity, flooded Amora. Yet he appeared incredibly composed; sad, yes, but no one would imagine the ferocity of what he was feeling just by looking at him.

She swallowed and held back more tears before she interrupted him. “Zel.”

He kissed Peela on the forehead, caressed her face and continued to repeat the same words, apologizing over and over.

“Zel.” His focus remained entirely on Peela. “ZEL!”

He turned to her with a vacant gaze.

“You need to command Leyal and Essy to calm down.”

Turning, he gazed down at Peela once again but, in an instant, Leyal relaxed and sat next to her, and Essy stopped hissing, then quickly slithered off her and out of sight.

She looked at falcon-man. “It’s okay now.”

“Who are you? You know the Commander?” He lowered his sword and walked toward her with caution.

“I’m called Amora and yes, I know him.” She thought that was rather obvious. “Who are you?”

“I am called Terber. He is called Buzan.” He gestured toward the other man. “We are his warriors. He is our Commander.”

Amora took one of the elixirs out of the pouch. “Can you rip his britches open so I can better get at his wound?”

Terber hesitated, sheathed his sword, then did as she asked.

“I didn’t realize Zel still had warriors.” She opened the bottle and sniffed to ensure she’d made the correct choice.

“We’ll always be his warriors.”

“Didn’t look that way a little while ago.” She put some of the elixir in her hand.

“We infiltrated. We’ve been undercover for years.” His brow furrowed. “Cover’s blown now though.” He stared intently at the substance in her hand. “Is that an Orman elixir or a Myaran elixir?”

“I’m pretty sure it’s Myaran.”

“You don’t know?” His tone was accusatory.

“It’s Zel’s,” she shot back in retort. “I used one a few days ago. Based on what I saw, I’d say it’s Myaran, powerful Myaran too.”

“Oh, that’s good.” He sounded satisfied though Amora didn’t care if he was or not. She was going to tend to Zel either way.

The elixir was thicker than most, almost like a salve. The moment it touched him, Zel growled his wolf’s growl in her direction. It was fierce and included a partial shift of his mouth, enough to see his wolf’s fangs. Terber scurried back a couple of feet. Amora didn’t flinch, merely ignored him and continued applying the mixture to his leg. He growled low and steady for several seconds before his mouth shifted back and he looked toward Peela again. Terber slowly returned to his position across from Amora.

The elixir worked to quell bleeding from the wound in the front of Zel’s leg, but he was still losing blood out the back. It felt to her like he stilled and she could no longer sense his emotions. She looked from the wound to him. “Uh, Terber, can you catch him before he falls?”

Zel started sliding down the side of the well, but Terber reached him just in time to ease his collapse. “Is he okay?” He set Zel down gently.

“He’s lost a lot of blood but he’ll live, though he might not be able to walk normally for a while.”

“Are you a healer?”

“No. I just spent a lot of time with an alchemist growing up and I’ve participated in some healing and stitching, enough to be of at least some use in a situation like this.”

She finished applying the healing elixir to the entry and exit wounds in Zel’s thigh, and to the gash on the shin of his other leg, grateful he remained unconscious throughout. The elixir was among the best she’d ever seen, though she knew it wouldn’t heal Zel’s wound completely. He’d still need a healer or a lot of time to recover on his own. But she was sure now, after having seen it in action for a while, the elixir was definitely magical and highly effective at quelling bleeding and sealing wounds. If the effectiveness of it were any indication, Zel had an incredible alchemist

Terber watched her intently. Once she finished with Zel, she applied a dab of elixir to a long cut that crossed Terber’s cheek, then moved to Buzan. Since she didn’t need Terber staring at her, she asked him to get the cart and horses. He was hesitant to leave, but Buzan insisted he go. He reluctantly complied yet, at the same time, seemed to appreciate the opportunity to be of use.

The gash in Buzan’s shoulder ran deep from the top near his neck, across his collarbone and into his arm. One side of his collarbone jutted out and sat unnaturally over the other. Amora couldn’t imagine the pain of it. “The elixir will help, but I’m going to have to stitch you,” she said though she knew stitching his arm and the area near his neck would only do so much good with his collarbone looking as it did.

“Well hello to you too, my beautiful angel of healing.”

She smiled. “I’m no angel, believe me.”

“Oh, but you’re my angel right now.” His speech was slow which Amora assumed was due to both the pain and the blood loss. “You took care of our Commander?”

“I did.” With some elixir in hand, she said, “This is going to burn,” right before applying it.

He let out something between a man’s roar and an animal’s howl. “Wooooh. I may have to take back that angel comment if you keep that up.” Despite his words, he smiled at her.

And, Gods, what a smile. He had the whitest, straightest teeth she’d ever seen, teeth surrounded by perfectly shaped lips at just the right thickness. She was pretty sure his smile could melt the ice caps of the Moreal Mountains. And those eyes. A beautiful pale blue, an exquisite contrast to his golden-brown skin. He and Zel shared the same skin color, but rather than the blue-black of Zel’s wavy hair, Buzan’s was a rich, dark brown. It fell below his shoulders, held a slight, sexy wave, and looked so silky smooth it made her want to touch it to see if it felt as luxurious as it looked. A scar cut diagonally across his left eyebrow leaving it devoid of hair. It was the only imperfection on his face. He might be the most attractive man she’d ever seen.

“Are you and Zelstrason…?”

She realized she’d been staring and quickly shifted her eyes to his wound. “Pfft. No.” She couldn’t even imagine such a thing.

“I thought not.” He let out a pain filled grunt. “But the female Osmet killed, she wasn’t just a meaningless whore, was she?”

“I don’t think so.”

“Was he in love with her? Do you know?”

“I’m not sure. He referred to her as ‘his woman’ before we got to the village though.”

“Dammit.” He looked to the sky.

It reminded her of something she’d seen Zel do many times. She was getting the impression that Listra prayed to, or at least talked to, their Gods often.

“This is going to be just like Voenna all over again.” He leaned back and rested his head against the cool stone of the well.

“Who’s Voenna?”

“The Commander’s Panthera woman… until Osmet killed her anyway. She was with child when he did it too – Zelstrason’s child.”

Amora’s eyes grew wide. “Gods.”

“You can say that again. He killed the Commander’s wolves too, his strata.”

“White wolves? Dire wolves like Leyal here, only white?” She remembered seeing the ghosts of two white wolves with Zel when she met him as a child.

“Exactly like that.” He let out a pain filled grunt.

“It’s okay. You don’t have to talk.”

“No. I want to.” His voice was strained. “It’s a good distraction.”

She took him at his word and continued their discussion while she cleaned the wound on his arm as gently as she could. “I’m surprised Zel let him get away with all that.” She couldn’t imagine Zel allowing anyone to live after killing a woman of his, plus his strata.

“The Commander didn’t know until today. Osmet set someone else up to take the blame, someone Zelstrason killed years ago.”

Ah, now it made sense. She applied more elixir to his wound.

He howled again. “Well, at least the Commander has cause to kill Osmet now.”

“I’ll say. But do you think Zel can kill him?” It certainly didn’t look that way earlier.

“Osmet may be stronger but Zelstrason is smarter. I’d bet on the Commander.”

“I can’t imagine anyone being stronger than Zel.”

“Neither could most of us years ago, but Osmet has three dire wolves as strata now.”

Her eyes widened.

“By that look, I’m guessing you know how strong dire wolves are… and understand that the enhancements we get from our strata compound?”

“Holy shit.” She didn’t know that last part until he said it.

He grinned though the pain still filled his eyes. “That’s one way of putting it. Thanks to those wolves, Osmet is the strongest warrior there is now.”

“And you still think Zel can best him?”

“Gods, I hope so.”

She applied more elixir and he howled again. “Well, from what I saw today…” She shook her head. “I don’t know. It was the first time I’ve ever truly feared for Zel.”

“I’ve never feared for him. But then, I’ve never seen him injured as he is right now either.”

“Did you see what happened?”

“I was too busy trying not to die, but I did see the way the Commander looked at the female before Osmet killed her and, well, to use one of Zelstrason’s sayings, ‘An emotional warrior…”

“‘is a dead warrior,’” she finished for him.

Buzan cocked his head. “He’s been teaching you?”

“Some.”

He raised a brow. “Interesting. Unexpected. I like that the Commander can still surprise me, the old bastard.” His smile was warm for the first time.

“You care for him?”

“Of course. We both do. He’s our warrior brother and our friend, not just our commander. We grew up together, the three of us and Fogard. You haven’t heard anything of a man called Fogard, have you?”

“Zel’s mentioned that he’s looking for him and has been for years but that’s all I know.”

She applied more elixir. He let out that man’s roar coupled with a howl again. Gods, even that’s sexy. What is it with this guy?

Terber returned and she thanked him, then asked if he could find some supplies to stitch Buzan’s wound.

“You need to stitch the Commander first,” Buzan said.

“You’re in more dire need.”

“The Commander first,” he insisted.

“No. I’ve treated his wounds such that stitching him now will make no difference. For you, it will. I’ll stitch you first.”

He growled at her from deep within his throat. She assumed he must have a wolf strata as well and didn’t flinch at it. Just as with Zel, she simply ignored it, looked away from him, and focused on his wound again.

“Zelstrason doesn’t scare you. I don’t scare you. You don’t fear much, do you?”

She didn’t answer but could feel him staring at her. He lifted his good arm, gently touched the side of her face and brushed her hair back. She turned her head, breaking the contact, but meeting his gaze. They looked at each other for a long moment. “I’m very attracted to you, my angel healer, both your beauty and your courage. But you are less than twenty years, are you not?”

Her cheeks reddened as she turned her eyes away from him. “I am… And I have no interest in men.”

He dropped his hand. “So, you prefer females then.”

She looked back at him. “No. I don’t prefer anyone or anything.” Frustration seeped into her voice.

“Ah, I see.”

“You see what?” His statement aggravated her. What could he know of her?

“One or more Orman assholes have already ruined you for good males.”

She looked away from him again. He put his hand to her chin gently coaxing her to look at him. She backed away from his touch, but met his eyes.

“I’m sorry for whatever they’ve done to you. Have they paid for their sins or do they still live?”

She knew without question that, like Zel, this man would ensure they paid if they hadn’t already. “They’ve all met their end,” she said with contempt in her voice. “Zel and I…”

He nodded. “Good. I’m glad to hear that at least.”

Terber brought the tools she needed and she stitched Buzan to the best of her meager ability. The process was slow and painful and he kept letting out the roar-howl mixture she found unsettlingly sexy. She didn’t want a man though- not any man, not even a good one, or a sexy one. All she wanted was to learn how to take care of herself so she could fight off anyone who came after her. No man would beat her or force himself upon her again if she had anything to do about it.

She did her best to set Buzan’s shoulder and put him in a sling she made out of some material Terber found. Then she moved to Zel to stitch him.

Throughout her time with Buzan, Zel floated in and out of consciousness, yet remained clouded enough that his emotions didn’t flood either of them. But the pain from her stitching cursed him with full awareness and the emotional onslaught began again. Amora did her best to get done quickly.

After she finished, Terber wanted them to talk without prying eyes or ears and paid the barkeep at the tavern a few buildings from the well to give them the room for a while. They couldn’t get Zel to leave Peela and Amora was thankful for that. She needed a reprieve from what he was feeling. Even inside the tavern, she could still sense his emotions, but at least they were muted.

They barely got themselves seated at a heavy table in the dimly lit room before Terber asked, “How much do you know of our Commander?” His tone was hostile for the first time.

“What do you mean?” She didn’t know what he was getting at with such a tone and it made her wonder about telling him anything at all.

“We need to know what you know.”

“What are you doing?” Buzan interjected.

Terber faced him. “We need to know if we can trust her.”

“We can trust her.”

“How do you know?”

“Did you not see her with the Commander? We can trust her.”

“We need to interrogate her.”

Buzan rolled his eyes. “Holy Argas, Terber, can you just relax the rules one time? Use your gut? Your instincts? Do you not have any instincts?”

“We must follow protocol, not our guts or our instincts.”

“Open your eyes, Tee. She came out of the woods wearing his damn strata coiled around her waist. We can trust her.”

They continued arguing while Amora waited. She didn’t care how much they trusted her or not. Zel was her only concern and he was an emotional catastrophe at the moment.

The argument moved away from one about trusting Amora to one about Zel. Terber ran a frustrated hand through his dirty blond hair. “He must lead the forces. He’s our Commander.”

“We don’t even know if he wants to lead our forces. It’s been decades. Fuck, if I left Listrand for decades, I’m not so sure I’d want to come back. Our homeland is dysfunctional to say the least. And you want to ask him to lead our forces and then lead our people.” Buzan rolled his eyes.

“What? Like you don’t want him to take over as Laspet now? Is that what you’re telling me? That after all these years of searching and hoping, now that we’ve finally found him, you don’t want him to rule?”

“That’s not what I’m saying. But maybe, just maybe, we should consider what he feels. We haven’t seen him in years. Maybe we need to say ‘Hey, brother, how are you?’ first before we try to put the weight of our world on him. And maybe, just maybe, we should give him a minute to get over what just happened.”

“But I’ve already sent Fajah to unfurl the flag. Everyone will know the Commander lives.”

“Seriously? You couldn’t wait two seconds before you sent your falcon to Listrand?”

“What do you want me to do? You want me to call him back now? You don’t think Listrand needs to know Zelstrason lives?”

Well, now Amora knew the significance of the falcon and, whether they trusted her or not, she was getting an earful. But though she was intrigued by their argument, Zel’s emotions had intensified and become jumbled drawing her attention. She stood. “Excuse me. I’m going to go check on Zel.” Neither acknowledged her, so she slipped away and exited the tavern.

She allowed the chaos of his emotions to guide her. He was no longer at the well. But it wasn’t long before she found him struggling to dig a grave between a strawberry patch and a small house. So much sweat, blood, and dirt covered him that he was almost unrecognizable. And he was barely able to keep his footing, using the shovel as a cane at least half the time. Peela’s body lay next to the hole.

Even though she was a petite woman, Amora couldn’t imagine how he could carry her body with the injuries to each of his legs. He could barely stand, let alone walk with the weight of another human. He must have dragged them both. She thought the physical pain had to be excruciating, likely just as intense as the emotional. The mixture of the two combined was probably why everything coming from him felt so confusing to her all of a sudden.

“Is there anything I can do for you, Zel?”

She expected frustration. So often, it seemed as though her simply speaking irritated him. But not this time. He stopped digging, sat in the dirt and looked at her. When their eyes met, there was no confusion. The pain and guilt he was feeling hit her full force. Raw. Gut wrenching. It felt like being internally punched. The sorrow in his eyes resembled nothing she’d seen in him before. She did all she could to maintain composure so he wouldn’t know what she knew, what she could sense coming from him.

“No. Thank you, girl.” His voice sounded somber, hollow; his speech sluggish.

“Are you certain I can’t help you dig?”

“No.” He stood, leaned his weight on the shovel to ease the burden on his legs. “I need to do this myself.” He shifted and buried the shovel in the dirt.

She returned to the tavern.

“Fine” she heard Terber say with frustration when she opened the door. “She’s back. Have it your way. You’d just better pray to Argas you’re right.” He stood. “I’m going to ready the horses.” He strode past Amora with a curt nod and exited the tavern. Buzan slumped in his chair looking drained, both the injury and the argument clearly having taken their toll.

She joined him at the table. “So, what’s your way?”

“My way is to tell you everything we’d tell the Commander if he were, well, if he were himself right now.”

“Should I feel honored that you trust me?”

“I trust my instincts, my Angel Healer. Something my brother, Terber, sorely lacks.”

He was smiling at her with those perfectly white teeth again. Everything about him was perfect to the point of distraction and she needed to stay focused. “Might I ask a question?”

“Of course, Angel. What is it?”

“What’s with this Osmet? Why does he seem to have it out for Zel?”

“Oh, there’s a lot of history there that goes way back. Started when we were pups. But if I were to summarize where we are today, I’d say it’s a mix of envy, jealousy, fear, power… you know, all the good things.”

She looked at him with anticipation waiting for him to elaborate. He obliged.

“The Commander’s always been better than Osmet at everything, and I do mean everything. And Osmet’s always been jealous. It’s not enough for him to be just another warrior. He wants power. He wants to be revered as the Commander has always been revered. And now, to achieve that, he seeks to become our Laspet, the leader of our lands and species, what your kind might call a king. And Zelstrason, well, he fears Zelstrason is the only one who can take that from him.”

“Why couldn’t one of you?”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, you’ve been with Osmet for years, have you not? Why not kill him? Didn’t you want to?

“Oh, you’ve no idea how badly. Many times, I wished to knife that Listra in his ugly, hate filled heart.” His lip curled.

“So why didn’t you?”

“Never had the chance, my Angel. Never even been alone with him unguarded. He’s always surrounded by warriors loyal to him.” Buzan adjusted his sling and winced.

She lifted her chin, pointed it toward his shoulder. “Is that wound from Osmet?”

“No. He was too busy with Zelstrason. This is a gift from the next best warrior, Voltan, another asshole like Osmet. They’ve been in league together for years.”

“And he’s a better fighter than you?”

Buzan looked to his shoulder then back to her. “If there was any doubt before, I think we can safely say yes at this point.” He grinned.

“Glad you can take it so lightly.”

He shrugged his good shoulder. Even that made him wince. “Ah, don’t let me fool you, Angel. If I don’t find myself a Myaran healer soon, I know I’m done for as a warrior.”

“I know a healer.”

“You do?” He perked up. “A powerful one?”

“Very. In Veyforge.”

“That’s excellent news. The Commander will need to see her straight away, before me. We can’t have him limping about unable to fight.”

“You always put his care before your own?”

“Of course. He’s my Commander.” He studied her expression for a moment. “What of it, my Angel? Why does this surprise you so?”

She shook her head. “Yours is just a very different culture than the Orman culture, that’s all. And speaking of cultures, did I hear right that you two want Zel to lead your people?”

“You did, and that’s exactly what I need to speak with you about.” He shifted slightly. “Truth be told, we don’t just want him, we need him. We simply can’t allow Osmet to become Laspet. The consequences of a war mongering, species hater like him having that power could be devastating- will be devastating. And the only thing stopping him from challenging our current Laspet is fear of Zelstrason.”

“Challenging him? Your leader is determined by strength? By a fight?”

“More or less. But fighting can be avoided. If a Laspet is challenged and he doesn’t feel he can win, he can step down and grant the crown to the challenger without a fight. I believe Pahan, our current Laspet, would choose that option if Osmet were to challenge him.”

“So why doesn’t Osmet just challenge him?”

“He knows if he becomes Laspet, it opens him up to challengers and he fears Zelstrason will take the crown from him.”

“So, he’s been hunting Zel?”

“For the last six months. He hopes to do exactly what he did today, fight the Commander with a group of his own warriors at his back, where the odds are incredibly weighted in his favor. So Terber and I have been trying our damndest to get ahead of him to find Zelstrason first but- well, obviously, we failed.”

“Maybe so, but at least you were here today. If you weren’t…” She shook her head. She was afraid to contemplate what the outcome would have been had they not been there. “Never mind that. Terber said he wanted Zel to lead your forces and then become Laspet. Why would he need to lead forces?”

“Because Osmet has his own warriors now and he’s not going to allow the Commander to take the crown without a fight. And even if it went the other way, if Osmet were to challenge Pahan and he won the crown, many in Listrand wouldn’t accept him as our ruler. He’s not well liked enough- to say the least. So, we’d end up in a civil war in that case as well. Or worse, complete chaos. So, we need a leader, a worthy leader, one Listrand will accept, and maybe even more importantly, one warriors will flock to follow. We need Zelstrason.”

“But he’s been gone from Listrand for years. You mean to say men will flock to him even still?”

“There’s no leader in recent history as well respected, my Angel. Warriors used to work their britches off to get into the elite forces just for the opportunity to serve under him. He’s firm, but fair. Commands respect without being an ass.” He winced as he leaned in closer to her, then said in a hushed tone, “And don’t tell him I told you this, but that was when he was in Listrand. Now, he’s a bloody legend. The stories are endless and many of our young warriors most literally worship him.” He let out a soft chuckle.

Amora matched his lower volume when she asked, “Why shouldn’t I tell him?”

“Because he doesn’t like the reverence and attention.” Buzan shook his head. “All he ever wanted our whole lives was to be a ‘normal’ Listra, and lead a ‘normal’ life,” He rolled his eyes. “Only one so extraordinary would be so idiotic as to wish to be normal.”

Amora raised her brows. She wasn’t sure whether or not she agreed, but she was impressed by the boldness of his criticism. She wondered if he’d be so bold in front of Zel.

The tavern door opened. “Are you two almost finished?” Terber asked. “The Commander will be ready to depart soon. He’s praying over the grave now.”

Buzan started to rise from his chair.

“He does not wish an audience.” Terber closed the door.

Buzan settled back in his chair. “It seems we must move on to other topics. There is much the Commander will need to know once his grief passes.”

Amora listened intently and did her best to remember all Buzan conveyed. Toward the end of their discussion, she heard a lone wolf’s howl and knew, without question, it was coming from Zel. Then a second nearly identical howl joined the first: Leyal, no doubt.

A short time later, they rode several painful, seemingly endless hours to Veyforge, and straight to Delphine’s. Before they entered, Zel spoke for the first and only time throughout the trip. He instructed Terber to give the cart, and all the armor and weaponry on it, to Luther. Then Terber was to sell two of the horses and pay Delphine out of the coin earned. The remaining coin was to go to Peela’s mother in the village. “Maybe Luther or his woman, Nandafal, could take it to her,” Zel suggested. Terber said he’d find a way and see to all of it before Delphine was done with them. And he kept his word.

Delphine worked her magic on Zel first. By the time she finished, he was in much better condition, physically anyway. He was still favoring the leg that had been stabbed, but only slightly. Any remaining scars were hidden under the new britches Terber brought back for him. He also looked a good deal cleaner and more recognizable than he had before. But he remained silent while they waited for Buzan.

Amora felt her cheeks flush when Buzan exited Delphine’s treatment room bare chested and perfectly sculpted with his collarbone back in place and her messy stitches gone, replaced by fresh, pink scars. They looked tender but so much better than the bloody gashes and protruding bones that were there just a while before. She turned her eyes away, tried to look at anything else, but found it difficult not to glance at him. Oh, who was she kidding? It was nearly impossible not to outright stare. And it seemed like forever before he put his shirt on. She swore he delayed purposely in an effort to tempt her gaze.

They didn’t dally long though. They said they had to get back to Listrand, preferably ahead of Osmet. He wasn’t above killing strata and they feared for the lives of their animals and also for their people. Now that their cover had been blown, Osmet would be suspicious and many of their warriors, particularly those serving as spies, could be in danger.

When they departed, Zel acknowledged them both, though just barely. Amora hadn’t felt anything from him since he buried Peela. It was like he’d become a hollow void. That worried her even more than the onslaught of emotions emanating from him earlier.

She and Terber exchanged a polite goodbye.

Before he got on his horse, Buzan turned to her. “You’ll take good care of him?” His gorgeous blue eyes focused so firmly on her she felt herself begin to fidget, rubbing her thumbs back and forth. “Of course,” she said with a smile she knew was far too wide but, no matter how insistent she was, her overly jolly cheeks wouldn’t listen to her commands to settle down.

“I know he’ll be in good hands then.” He offered a nod. “It’s been a pleasure meeting you, my Angel. I look forward to the day we’re free to explore our mutual attraction.” His smile was even more perfect than it had been, his lips a healthy pink now.

But how dare he assume? “I never said I was attracted to you,” she insisted, forcing her cheeks to listen, wiping the smile from her face, doing her utmost to purse her lips.

He bent, moving so they were face to face, so close she could feel his breath. His pale blue eyes peered deep into her own. “No, Angel. No… you never did say.” He smiled that gorgeous, icecap melting smile of his. Her heart began to race, felt like it was going to pound out of her chest. His lips were right there.

“But once you reach twenty years and I get this close to you,” he moved ever so slightly closer, “you can tell me then how you’re not attracted to me, okay?” He lingered there, staring into her eyes for an extra second before pulling back. He coupled his heart-stopping smile with a wink before he mounted his horse. She didn’t think she took a breath again until he was out of sight.

After Terber and Buzan left, she and Zel rode to Veyforge’s Lord to collect his payment for the bandit job. He was given 230 coin but, before they stepped foot outside the castle, Amora watched him give at least half to a shady-looking, short, Moreal man with a dirty smile and a metal rod he twirled habitually.

“What was that all about?” she asked when he returned.

He handed her the remaining coin. “Here. You make a good life for yourself somewhere, okay?” There was nothing behind his words. They were empty, hollow, like he was nothing more than a shell.

She’d never held so much coin. But him giving her coin wasn’t what she wanted, not what she needed, and not what he needed either. Just as she opened her mouth to refuse it, a stranger yelled, “Hey!” She turned and saw a short, familiar looking, unkempt man. “Hey! He’s giving her the reward! Paying her off!”

Her brows furrowed as she stared at him. I could swear he was with the Moreal man earlier, before Zel got paid.

“It was all a ruse! They tricked the Lord!” he shouted.

Before she could think what to do, armed guards came out of nowhere to surround them.  

Chapter 20 – Spellbound

“No. No!” Amora said as two of Veyforge’s guards grabbed her arms with their huge hands and tight grips. “It was no ruse. The bandits are dead.” She tried to wrest herself away from them. “I swear it!”

But the stranger continued to make false claims and the guards ignored her struggles and denials. Zel didn’t fight them, didn’t say a word, just allowed them to take all their coin and shackle them both.

“Zel, what are you doing? Say something. Tell them!” she begged.

He wouldn’t speak, and none of the Orman men would listen to her. Instead, they brought them before the Lord of Veyforge who said they’d be tried and hung in the morning should they be found guilty, which Amora knew was more likely than not.

They relieved Zel of his armor and weapons and locked them in adjacent iron barred cells under the Lord’s keep. Amora gagged from the stench of stale urine emanating from the straw that blanketed the stone floors, then watched as they closed the iron bars, locking her in that disguising pit. Zel slumped to the ground in a bare corner near their adjacent bars, then raised his knees, wrapped them with his arms, and buried his head in his own personal cocoon.

The guards kept an eagle eye and there was no way to talk to Zel without them hearing. So, she paced the cramped cell irritated with the late afternoon sun for taunting her by streaming in through the tiny barred windows at the rear- rectangular holes not even large enough for a small child.

The sun’s cheery glow did nothing but annoy her at first. It flickered continuously as people passed, their legs and feet casting irritating shadows. But then she started counting seconds between flickers; then she counted legs, then those with skirts, then those with britches. She made a game of counting anything she could to distract herself from their situation.

The game kept her occupied until the sunlight disappeared giving way to the darkness. Once it did, there was nothing left to distract her, nothing left to keep her mind from dwelling on the fact that she hadn’t sensed any emotions from Zel for hours. And she still wasn’t sensing any. It ate at her and made her more uneasy with every passing moment. She needed to talk to him, needed to. Every minute felt like an eternity.

Several more torturous hours passed before the guards got involved in a game of dice and she thought it safe for them to speak. She crouched next to him, her hands on the bars that separated them, and whispered, “Zel?”

He didn’t move or look at her.

“Zel, we need to get out of here.”

She tried several times more, but he remained completely unresponsive. She persisted. There was no other choice. But her pleas fell on deaf ears. He was completely detached, like a statue, an empty, emotionless… Oh no.  It hit her and she knew; she knew in the way of her ability and with utmost certainty. He’d decided to die. That’s why she felt nothing from him. He’d given up. There was nothing left to feel.

“Zel, please. I know you blame yourself for Peela’s death. But you don’t deserve to die for it. Please. It wasn’t your fault.” She tried and tried to convince him, but he remained unresponsive. She returned to pacing the cell, trying to devise a way to pull him out of this. A short while later, she thought of approaching it from another angle.

“Zel, what about your friend, Fogard? You talked about needing to find him, said you gave him your word, said when you give your word, you keep it. You can’t go off and die and break your word, can you? Zel? Zel? Please, talk to me.”

She begged and pleaded. Still nothing.

A sense of despair washed over her and she went back to pacing the cell. Maybe she could plead with him about becoming king… Laspet of his people? But based on what Buzan said, she feared that might be the opposite of an incentive.

Eventually it struck her, the one thing that would force Zel to live- at least she was betting her life on it. She crouched next to him. “Zel, you can’t let me die. You are a Listra male. I am female. You must protect me.”

Still no response.

“Zel, do you hear me? I am woman, under your protection. You cannot allow me to hang tomorrow. You cannot allow an innocent female to die. You must get me out of here.”

It took her a few more tries before she got through to him, before he finally looked at her with recognition for the first time in hours; though he said nothing, merely offered a single nod. She didn’t know what that meant, but hoped he had a plan. She waited a while and tried to be patient, but nothing happened. He hadn’t even moved. Finally, the guards fell asleep and she approached him again.

“Zel.” She gestured toward the sleeping guards trying to draw his attention to them. “We have to get out of here.” His lack of action was making her more nervous by the second. “Now,” she implored. He looked up. Amora followed his gaze and saw Essy slide through the bars of his window. She slithered down the wall, across Zel’s jail cell and to the guards slumped over their table, both snoring loudly. She bit each repeatedly, injecting a lethal dose of her poison with each bite, then slithered to Zel with the keys in her mouth.

By the time he and Amora exited the cells, both guards had awoken, but lost most of their muscle control. Their throats had closed, so they couldn’t speak, and they were suffocating internally. Zel’s armor was nowhere to be seen, but his sword belt hung on a wall behind them. He leaned over to snatch it, paying them no mind while they writhed in pain. He took his dagger with the deer etching, along with its holster, from the one who’d stolen it from him, relieved them both of their coin purses, and grabbed a cloak off a nearby hook. Amora removed a dagger and weapon’s belt from the smaller of the two guards and wrapped it around her waist. It was too large, but not so large it would fall off her.

“Should we put them out of their misery?” she asked.

Zel shrugged.

She held the man’s dagger to his back and looked at Zel. “Where?”

He pointed, showed her where to stab to kill instantly, then he grabbed the man by the back of his head and pushed it into the table until he stilled. She slowly buried her newly acquired dagger in the man’s back. Zel let go of his head once the rest of his body collapsed. Without words, they moved to the other guard and did the same. He nodded his approval to her when they were done and both men were gone.

As they traversed the dark halls of the keep, Zel fought and killed his way through several guards until he found one who begged for mercy and said he could lead them to a secret passage. Amora felt his surprise when it turned out the man was telling the truth, so she didn’t understand it when Zel knocked him unconscious. “So his Lord will believe he tried to apprehend us,” he said when she looked at him aghast.

The passageway exited behind the keep, outside its walls, in a shadowy area adjacent a steep wall comprised of large boulders and brush. The bells were ringing and guards were swarming the grounds in search of them. Zel led them up the wall choosing his steps so the brush kept them mostly concealed. A dark, dense forest with huge trees, far larger than any Amora had ever seen greeted them once they reached the top. Zel froze. The bells continued to ring and, if someone looked up, they’d be spotted. Amora grabbed his hand. “Zel, come on. We have to go.”

No response.

“Come on, Zel.” She pulled.

He remained stationary. After what felt like far too long considering their circumstances, he put his arm around her, and drew her to him until she was practically glued to his side. Essy wrapped around them both, then Zel walked them slowly into the forest together. Bubo stayed in flight keeping close to them.

“What are you doing?” Amora asked.

“Shh.” He put his fingers to his lips.

It was eerily quiet inside the forest. There were no birds tweeting, no twigs breaking, no rustling of leaves- nothing. The only noise came from her own footsteps, and they didn’t get more than a few paces before he lifted her off the ground and carried her. Once he did, not a sound could be heard. And not an inch of sky could be seen through the thick canopy above. Amora couldn’t see two feet ahead. Chills ran up her spine and she held him tighter. She had no idea how he got them through the inky blackness, but he didn’t stop moving until they came out the other side. She could feel relief come from him then.

“Why did we walk through like that?” she asked once he put her down.

“So as not to wake the Vengha.”

“What’s the Vengha?”

He heaved a heavy breath.

“Never mind.” This wasn’t the time to ask questions or press him for education. Besides, whatever it was wasn’t important now that they’d made it through. What was important was that he felt less hollow than he had before; he’d decided to live. But his expression was still one of despondency. He still wasn’t right yet.

He was going through the motions though and found a place on the other side of the meadowed area they crossed, a spot he felt was safe for them to settle for the evening. She gathered wood and built a fire while he hunted for their dinner. Leyal joined them right before they ate and Zel surprised her by speaking. “I’m sorry,” he said.

“What are you sorry for?”

“Everything. For you ending up with me, a piss poor excuse for a male.”

“What are you talking about?” Her brow furrowed. “You’re anything but a piss poor excuse for a male.”

“We have no horse, no belongings. We don’t even have a single sleep sack between us. I got you jailed, nearly hung. I can’t protect any female who comes near me.” He threw a bone to Leyal who caught it with a snap of his jaws.

“Gods, Zel, is there anything you don’t blame yourself for?”

“I deserve blame.” He stared into the fire.

“No, you don’t.”

He looked from the fire to her. “Yes, I do, girl. I caused Peela’s death. Me. I did that.”

“You did not. That’s a ridiculous thing to say. You did everything you could to save her.”

“I did everything that got her killed, girl.” He scowled. “I got too comfortable. Then I let my emotions take over and showed my face,” he gestured to his scars, “to a tavern full of Ormans in that village, let them know of her association with me. How do you think she ended up in Osmet’s hands? It was a bloody mistake. A big, fucking, horrible, deadly, bloody mistake that cost Peela her life. And that’s all on me. All of it. And so is Voenna. That’s two females I’ve killed now. Some protector I am.” He threw another bone to Leyal.

“Buzan told me you were in jail when Voenna died.”

“And I got myself thrown in jail. I got careless and got myself caught. So yes, girl, Voenna was my fault too, my fault because I wasn’t there to protect her like I should have been.”

Amora could feel his guilt come flooding back.

“Fuck.” He shook his head. “I even killed an innocent Listra and his warriors for her death too... I’m a monster.”

“You couldn’t have known that. Osmet set them up to take the blame.”

“I should have known.” He grimaced. “I should have known.”

He was sitting against a tree with his legs out. She went to him, knelt with her legs on either side of his thighs bringing them face to face. He gave her a look with raised brows but said nothing.

“Okay, so what you’re telling me is you’re human.”

He tilted his head. “I’m a shifter, not human.”

She put her hands on her hips and looked at him squarely. “Zel, you know what I mean.”

He pursed his lips.

She continued, “This might surprise you, but people… Does that work for you?”

He folded his arms and nodded with his lips still pursed.

“So, people of all types, even huge, shifter species who are amazing warriors, don’t know everything. And they make mistakes. It’s what people do. So, you’re not perfect. But you know what?... All of this was Osmet. Not you. You didn’t kill either of those women. Osmet did. You may have made some mistakes, but you weren’t the cause of their deaths. Osmet was.”

“And he will die by my hand.” The statement was laced with his wolf’s growl.

“I’m sure he will, but you need to forgive yourself first. Everyone makes mistakes. It’s okay not to be perfect. It’s okay to fail now and then.”

“My failures cost lives, girl. It’s not the same as others failing.”

“Maybe not. But no one can be perfect all the time.”

He shook his head. “I don’t even know how you can feel safe with me.”

“Please. I’ve never been safer in my life than I am with you and that’s one of those things I just know. I know with everything in me that you’ll keep me safe. Well, everything except my nose. My nose is not safe right now. You stink something awful.”

He grinned and let out a small chuckle.

Progress. “Seriously Zel, you’ve got to give yourself a break. You’re a good man.”

“Huh. For you of all people to say that. With how I’ve treated you.”

“What do you mean?” Her face scrunched.

“I haven’t been very patient with you, girl. I recognize that. I know this,” he waved his hand, “ability you have... it’s not your fault. I shouldn’t let it frustrate me like I do. I think thirty years of living in the woods with only my strata to talk to has made it so I don’t know how to be with people anymore.”

“Well, you can use me to learn how to be with people again,” Amora said, hopeful.

“Meh. Why do you want to be with me, girl? I’m a terrible beast to be around and every female I choose to protect dies.”

“Not this female. You saved my life. You brought me the men who tried to kill me and allowed me to enact my revenge. You’ve fed me, even shoed me. You’ve done so much more than most any man would have. So, you’re a little prickly and short tempered sometimes.” She shrugged. “So what? Remember my husband beat me. You’re a joy compared to that asshole.”

“It’s good the bar is so low,” he said with half a grin.

She chuckled and slapped his shoulder playfully. “You know I didn’t mean it like that.”

“I know. And I’m sorry, girl, for everything you’ve gone through, everything you’ve had to deal with, including my insensitive ass. I need to do better.”

“Does that mean you’re going to keep me?”

“Keep you? What? Like a pet?” He rolled his eyes. “Keep you.” He mumbled.

“Yeah. I mean, sort of. I can earn my keep though. I can gather wood and cook meals, help clean your armor, brush down the horses … well, when you have armor and horses anyway. Do other chores you need done. You know, be useful. But I want to accompany you on your search for Fogard and I want you to…” She hesitated, nervous he’d immediately dismiss her. “I want you to teach me how to be a fighter and how to defend and protect myself so what happened to me before can never happen again.”

She saw the look on his face and feared a refusal was coming. “I know your species doesn’t normally teach women to fight,” she interjected before he could deny her, “but what happens to me if I go out there and try to make a life for myself like you said? A girl my age on my own? I don’t have the protection of male Listra warriors for life. I’m merely an Orman girl, an Orman girl who wants to be able to protect herself. Please, Zel. You said you need to do better. Do better with me, with this. Besides, it’ll help you get over Peela.” She hoped she was right about that last part.

He hesitated. That was good. He was thinking, considering.

“And how long would you like me to ‘keep you?’”

“I don’t know.” She shrugged. “However long you can?”

“You realize I may have to go to war?”

“For Listrand? You know what the men want of you then?”

“I can guess... Osmet has finally decided to vie for the crown of Listrand and believes I’m his only potential obstacle. No one else can stop him, so the warriors want me to lead our forces in a civil war, kill Osmet and his species hating Listra, and ultimately become Laspet.”

Amora looked at him over her lashes. “And it’s me who’s constantly accused of just knowing everything?”

He smiled at her joke.

“And,” she prodded.

“And what?”

“What are you going to do?”

“Oh, I don’t know, girl. I want Osmet dead. By the God, Argas, I want him dead more than the air I breathe. But I don’t want a civil war and I don’t want to be Laspet.”

“Buzan said you’d feel that way.”

“He knows me well. Not to mention I gave Fogard my word that I’d find him and I don’t give my word lightly.”

“But you’ve searched for Fogard for years and it sounds to me like Listrand needs you.”

He cocked his head. “Do you want me to go to war then? I won’t be able to ‘keep you’ if I go to war.”

“No. I mean, I want to stay with you. But… oh, I don’t know.”

“How long before Buzan and Terber are back on this side of the Great Sea?”

“Buzan guessed about a month.”

He nodded. “That sounds about right. So, there’s some time yet.” He paused in contemplation, then said, “If I could kill Osmet without war, that would be my choice.”

“Buzan says he won’t fight you one-on-one.”

“Of course, he won’t.” Zel curled his lip. “Cowardly prick,” he mumbled. 

“Soooo, I understand why you wouldn’t want war, but why don’t you want to be Laspet?”

“Listrand’s a mess. They need someone deserving, someone more capable than me to rule it.”

“Seems like there are lots of men who think you’re deserving and capable.”

“Bah.” Zel waved his hand. “I don’t deserve shit. I can’t even protect the females I care about. How am I supposed to rule and ensure the protection of all the females of Listrand’?” He shook his head. “Plus, I’ve seen what power does to people, girl. It’s a corrupting force. It twists people into vile beings until they no longer resemble who they once were. I don’t want to become… that.” He sneered.

“Well, what do you want then? Besides Osmet dead. That’s a given.”

“I want nothing.”

“Bullshit. Everyone wants something.”

“Fine. I want to find Fogard.”

“That’s it? That’s all you want out of life?” She scrunched her face. “I don’t think so. That’s not what you really want.”

“Why ask me then? If you know what I feel?”

“Because I can’t help but wonder if you know what you feel.”

“Piss off, girl.”

“You piss off, Zel.”

He chuckled. “Good for you.”

“What’s good for me?”

“You… not taking my shit.” He lowered his cloak over his eyes. “Come.” He spread his arms open. “It’s too late for me to build us a shelter tonight and I know I stink, but we both need sleep and I’m more comfortable than the ground. We’ll talk more tomorrow.”

She nuzzled into him. “I may have been exaggerating about your stench,” she said and saw him grin ever so slightly before he enveloped her.

A few hours later, she woke to a sense of crushing sadness. Looking up, she saw his eyes open and glassy, and felt his emotions building like a tidal wave. He gazed at nothing in particular and several moments passed before he spoke.

“She was the first female I even considered making a relationship with in at least a decade. And she was a good woman. Sweet. Kindhearted.”

Amora remained silent.

“She didn’t deserve… didn’t deserve that.”

Amora lifted herself to his level and put her arms around him as the tears began to fall. Tears escaped her eyes too, but she didn’t let him see. He wrapped his arms around her and held her tight, tighter than he ever had before, like she was a lifeline. And she cried with him. For a long time, she cried with him. He released what she knew was far more than just the grief of Peela’s death; years of pent-up emotions came flowing from him. It was difficult for her as well, being able to sense his feelings as she could, but she knew this was what he needed more than anything else.

When there were no tears left and they separated, he asked, “Do you think less of me now?”

Her face twisted. “Why would I think less of you?”

“A warrior, especially a commander, is not supposed to display such emotions. It’s not acceptable behavior for a male of my station… my previous station anyway.”

“What are you supposed to do? Keep everything you feel inside forever and ever?”

“Well yes. Of course.”

“Doesn’t that seem like it might be just a little bit unhealthy to you? I mean, ever wonder why you’re so tense all the time?”

“I’m not tense all the time.” His brow furrowed.

She tilted her head, looked at him over her lashes. Waited.

“Okay, maybe I’m tense now and then.”

She didn’t move.

“Okay, maybe it’s often. But it’s not all the time.”

“Maybe not all the time, but pretty damn close. And don’t you feel better now?” He felt much better to her, like a burden he carried had been lifted, or at least lessoned. She wasn’t entirely sure he was completely free of it, but there was a sense of relief in him that wasn’t there before.

“I do, actually. Much better. Much better than I have in a long time.”

Well, at least her ability to read him was solid. “Good. And I’m happy I was here for you, that I could be a part of helping you feel better.”

He smiled a genuine smile that crinkled the corners of his eyes. “I am too. You’re a good girl. Truly. Thank you, Amora.”

She gasped and held a hand to her heart. He did the same. They stared at each other, each holding their chests.

“What in bloody Terrola did you just do to us?” Amora exclaimed.

“Me?” His voice pitched up. “I did nothing.”

“Oh no, you definitely did something. When you said my name, you did something.”

“I did nothing, girl, merely spoke your name.”

“But you felt something, right? You feel something.”

“I definitely feel something,” Zel said.

“Like a string…”

“pulling on my chest…”

“connecting me…”

“to you,” they said in unison.

Amora’s eyes widened. “Holy shit.”

“I agree.”

“It feels like a spell. I think. Does it feel like a spell? Is that what a spell feels like?”

“I don’t know, girl. I’m not a Myara. My magic is shifter magic. It’s completely different.”

“The alchemist I told you I spent time with, he knew some spell magic. I think we’re under someone’s spell, Zel, I really do.”

“Who would put us under such a spell?”

“Delphine?” Amora suggested. “She’s the only Myara we’ve come in contact with together.”

“Delphine? I can’t imagine she’d put us under a spell.”

It was true that Delphine didn’t seem the type. But something just happened and someone was responsible for it. “Is there any way we can find out?” she asked. She watched while he contemplated.

After a short time, he said, “There’s an old Myaran tower not too far from here, about half a day’s trek northwest. It’s not the Nexis but, from what I understand, they teach some magic there. Maybe we can learn something from them, see if they think this is a spell.”

The next morning, they ate, found a river in which to wash, then got underway. Zel told her he wanted to stop at a nearby town a couple hours north before they went to the Myaran tower.

“Aren’t we in danger if we stop?” she asked.

“In what way?”

“Well, we’re outlaws now. We just broke out of prison.”

He let out an amused chuckle. “You’re thinking we’re in danger from the Ormans? The Lord of Veyforge and his men?” He smiled. “No, girl. They won’t travel hours searching for us. Even if they did, they’re incompetent fighters, at best.”

“Oh, that’s good. But, why would we stop?”

“For supplies.”

“You have coin?”

“I took the purses from our cell guards. They didn’t have much, but there’s enough to buy my way into a card game.”

“And you’re good at gambling?”

“We’re about to find out, aren’t we?” The corners of his mouth turned up.

She got the sense he might be quite good at gambling and, though she didn’t want to push her luck, she decided to take a chance. “Do you think, if you do well, that you might be able to get me some britches? They’d be far more practical than this skirt.”

He cocked his head. “Well, I was thinking more along the lines of a bow with some arrows, but if you’d rather have britches…”

“A bow? For what?”

“To teach you.”

Her brows raised as she put a hand to her throat. “Archery?”

“No, horse sliding.”

“Zelll!”

“Whaaat?”

She rolled her eyes, then giggled. “I can’t believe you’re going to teach me archery.” She beamed.

“Well, let’s see if I can win some coin first… Amora.” He tested out her name. “Anything that time?”

“No. Nothing. You?”

“Nothing. So, whatever spell has been cast is done doing what it’s going to do, at least with that trigger.”

#

The town was filled with an inordinate amount of commotion and people bustling everywhere. Zel stopped one of the villagers to ask why and discovered a skills and strength competition was about to take place. He couldn’t believe it. Finally, a gift from the Gods. He thanked them profusely.

A competition might put him in the public eye, but he’d search for Listra hunters before joining and, if there were none around, the risk would be worth it. Several of the competition’s events were directly in line with his abilities and would likely grant a far better payoff than any card game could.

With only enough coin to buy into two competitions, he chose log pulling and timber splitting thinking it unlikely anyone would best him in either – and they didn’t. But the log pulling wasn’t nearly as easy as he expected. He learned that, though Delphine’s magic was truly remarkable, his leg most certainly wasn’t entirely healed. It pained and hindered him throughout, barely allowing him to eke out the win.

Still, he did win, and he spent the purse on a sleep sack, a cooking pot with a couple of bowls, a new set of throwing spikes, and a shirt and pair of britches for Amora. He thought about using some of the coin to buy his way into another competition, but winning more than two would draw too much attention and he wasn’t there to gain popularity.

For the second win, he forfeited the purse in favor of one of several prizes they had on offer. A gorgeous set of armor tempted him, but he opted for a beautiful hickory bow with a smooth rounded belly, tapered limbs, and a leather handle wrap; it was the ideal length for Amora. With it, came a boar’s fur quiver, ten arrows, and a leather forearm guard. It was perfect.

It pained him to pass up the beautiful brigandine they had on offer, but Luther would craft him another custom set that would be more well suited to him anyway. So, he’d make do with just his tunic and the cloak for now. The only other thing he wished he could have gotten was a horse. The thought of stealing one crossed his mind, but the loss of a horse would be hard on many a poor Orman, so he decided against it. If it was a necessity, that would be one thing. But they could make do without.

The mid-afternoon sun had been obscured by heavy clouds by the time they reached the clearing before the Myaran tower. They left Leyal standing at the edge of the woods guarding their few newly acquired belongings and watching as they walked toward the tall, gray Myaran tower. Bubo stayed in flight overhead.

Chapter 21 – Tardokath Tower

The Myaran tower was huge at the base and surrounded by a thick, gray stone wall. There was a slight sense of foreboding as they approached its massive wooden and iron trimmed gate, a gate that opened when they came upon it with no provocation from them. He and Amora looked at one another, but neither spoke. He suspected she was feeling the same thing he was; he could see it on her face. It was creating apprehension in them both. But something he couldn’t identify made him want to continue. He nodded, and she returned the gesture.

They passed through the gate, then traversed a lifeless and empty courtyard toward stone steps that led to a set of massive black doors. They ascended the steps and the doors creaked open before they knocked. Zel had Essy slither off him quickly, enter the tower, and make herself scarce. Then they cautiously peered into an expansive hall with ceilings six stories high and a balcony lit by torches on each level.

A man wearing black Myaran robes approached. Like many robes worn by upper-level magic wielders, it was imported, a plush velvet woven from Listranian silks. It was trimmed in gold and covered with flowing swirls Zel recognized as Myaran scrollwork. The man was white skinned with white, shoulder length hair and sideburns that fanned out into huge, impossible circles on either side of his round, friendly face. He smiled broadly and held his hands together at the fingertips. “Greetings and welcome to Tardokath Tower. I am called Elambor.” He offered a slight bow. “I am the Myvina of this facility. And you are?” He looked to Zel.

“I am Zeltam of Ardevon and this is…”

“No. Try that again, please. Without lying this time.”

Zel hesitated. Elambor waited patiently. “I am Zelstrason.”

“Of…”

“Listrand… Argasport, specifically.”

“Better.” He nodded. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Zelstrason.” He turned to Amora. “And you are.”

“Amora of Lurran.”

“Very good. It’s a pleasure to meet you as well, Amora.” He turned back to Zel. “You are here to see the Oracle.”

“I am?”

“You are. But Amora must wait. It is not yet her time to see the Oracle.”

“Um, Elambor, I don’t wish to offend, but I just wanted to talk with an experienced Myara. We had a few questions regarding spells that we were hoping one of you could answer. I didn’t plan on seeing an Oracle.”

“You have questions? Things you want to know?”

“Well, yes, bu…”

“The Oracle will have answers.” Elambor turned to his right. “Shreya,” he called out.

Zel did not want to see an Oracle. They supposedly knew damn near everything, but were notoriously cryptic.

A young woman with black skin and hair came from one of the hallways. “Shreya, this is Amora. Please feed her and keep her company while I take Zelstrason to see the Oracle.”

Shreya offered a small bow, then held out a hand gesturing for Amora to join her. As much as Zel didn’t like this, they needed answers. He nodded and Amora walked down the hall with Shreya.

“Very good. Follow me please, Zelstrason.” Elambor led Zel down a wide, stone hall opposite the one Shreya and Amora disappeared into.

“Elambor, how did you know my name?” Zel asked as they walked.

“I didn’t. The Oracle told me. He told me both of you were coming. He had to so we’d ensure the perimeter shields were made harmless for you. The outer defenses are meant only to keep those pesky Purists away, mind you. They’re not set to kill magical beings. But it’s better to be safe than sorry.”

Zel decided it best not to tell him Amora was an Orman.

He stopped in front of a large set of double doors. They were thick and black and carved with Myaran scrollwork. Zel knew Myara wove patterns into all sorts of things and was sure the artwork on the door contained spells, likely wards or protections.

“We’re here.” Elambor turned to him and held out his hands. “Your weapons, please.”

Zel hesitated.

“Am I correct in assuming you can kill most any man with your bare hands before they are even able to react?”

Zel cocked his head. “Am I correct in assuming you’re among the most powerful magic wielders in the lands?”

“You are. But I haven’t come to your house seeking help. You’ve come to mine.” Elambor held his smile all the while.

Zel couldn’t argue with his logic. He nodded, took off his sword belt, handed both his swords and his small dagger to Elambor. Elambor continued to hold out his hands, waiting. Zel reluctantly pulled the dagger from his ankle holster and handed it over. He hated handing that dagger to anyone he didn’t know. He knew it was necessary sometimes. He could acknowledge that. But that didn’t mean he had to like it.

Elambor nodded. “Know the answers are not always easy to understand and your questions are not always what you think they are.” He moved to the side then gestured toward the door.

Zel opened it expecting it to creak, but it opened silently and closed behind him just as silently. The small, windowless room smelled of lavender and glowed with candlelight. More candles than Zel could count burned on the floor, on shelves, on nearly every surface and space available. The room’s heat surrounded him.

In the middle of the space, in the only candle free area, sat a Myara on a bed of blankets, cross legged with his eyes closed and his hands on his knees. His pale face bore a long, white mustache that fell below his chin. Body markings in the form of Myaran scrollwork began at his eyebrows, covered the entirety of his hairless head, flowed down his neck and disappeared into a black robe. His robe was accented with Myaran scrollwork as well, but in a myriad of colors that seemed to shimmer with life. Even the walls were covered in the scrollwork; and there was a calming energy in the room that enveloped him, a kind of buzz that couldn’t be heard but could be felt. He wondered if it was the scrollwork causing it and exactly what it was, but the Oracle interrupted his thoughts.

“Zelstrason, welcome warrior. Please, join me.” The man gestured to the empty spot before him without opening his eyes.

Zel sat on the blanketed floor crossing his legs, mimicking the man. He glanced at the Oracle’s hands. They were tattooed in even more Myaran scrollwork. The man’s voice drew his attention.

“You seek answers, Zelstrason. I will provide you with enough information so you may discover what it is you seek to know.” He still hadn’t opened his eyes or moved anything but his mouth.

“Thank you,” Zel said with some trepidation. He tried to remember that he came here for help and told himself he’d keep an open mind.

“Ask your question.”

“I came here with a girl. We think we might be under a spell, that maybe a Myara put us under a spell...”

“No. You’re going to ask the wrong question. You contemplated visiting an Oracle once before, years ago. Ask the question you were going to ask then.”

It was a long time ago and, ultimately, Zel had decided against it, but remembered the question with certainty. “Where is my friend, Fogard?”

“Yes. That’s it. Answer that question and you will learn who put you under the spell.”

“But how do I answer that question? How do I find him? I’ve been searching for years.”

“You must go back to the beginning to find the end, Zelstrason.”

“What does that mean?”

“Life ended where life began. Fate was sealed and the spell was cast.”

“I don’t understand.”

“Miadreena asked after Amora, by the way. I told her not this time. They’ll meet next time. You’ll be back. Oh, and don’t forget to ask Elambor to meet his kittens before you leave.”

“What are you talking about? I don’t understand anything you just said.”

“You do and you will. Until next time, Zelstrason,” The Oracle opened his eyes. They were white. Entirely white. “That is all.” He closed his eyes again.

Zel rose and exited the room through the large, silent doors. Elambor greeted him with his fingers steepled and a polite nod. “So, how was your visit?”

“Confusing.”

“Ah yes, that’s common. You’ll probably have to spend some time analyzing it to figure it out. But the Oracle is always good about giving enough to lead seekers on the right path.”

“Is that so?” Zel asked skeptically.

“It is. It’s always best to listen to the Oracle,” Elambor advised in the way a mentor teaches a student.

“Well then, the Oracle said I should ask to meet your kittens.” Even as Zel uttered the words, he thought them ridiculous. Why would he have any interest in kittens? But then, why in Jallah not ask? He was here. He might as well.

Elambor raised his brows. “My kittens? Really?”

“Yes,” Zel confirmed with even more confusion than he’d had when he’d said the words. Why was this so intriguing to the Myara?

Elambor clapped his hands together. “Well, isn’t that wonderful.” He turned on his heel. “Come. I’ll take you to them straight away.”

Zel followed. Still confused. Maybe even more confused than he had been. But he followed nonetheless. They walked several hallways on the ground floor before approaching another large entrance with double doors. Instead of Myaran scrollwork, the carvings here were of trees with their multitudes of leaves and branches.

“Right through these doors,” Elambor gestured.

“Aren’t you coming?”

“Oh no. I’ll wait here.”

“Why?”

“You’ll see.” Elambor smiled broadly with a twinkle in his eye.

Zel hesitated. He didn’t know what to think, but his curiosity got the better of him. He needed to know what was on the other side of the door, why the Oracle had suggested he meet kittens, of all things, and why Elambor seemed so delighted about it.

He opened the door and stepped inside what appeared to be nothing more than a dark, empty room- until the door closed behind him. It wasn’t until then that he could see he stood in a rainforest. Trees, ferns, and lush jungle greenery surrounded him. Macaws called and monkeys chirped in the distance and the moisture of heavy humidity hung in the air. What in holy Jallah is this? He doubted there’d be any kittens in this place, but he was curious as to what he might find.

Walking the only available path, his feet sunk into a bed of soft moss with each step. The gurgling of a thin finger of water gently bubbling over smooth rocks next to him. He ambled along to its end where the water emptied down the side of a cliff into a roaring river, one that sat at the bottom of a steep canyon. In front of him was a narrow bridge with a series of planks no wider than his foot that ran the span of it. Ropes made of thick liana flowed along either side. Thinner liana twisted around the planks holding them in place.

A group of scarlet parrots flew by and landed on the opposing cliff face, joining at least a dozen others. They were decidedly too far away; the other side was decidedly too far away. He gripped the ropes firmly, stood at the edge, and peered into the canyon below. Then he kicked a small rock and watched it fall until it slammed against a boulder at the bottom.

He looked across the bridge and contemplated turning around.

While he might have acquired Bubo’s soundless movement, night vision, and even the ability to shift his feet into talons should the need arise, he’d never figured out how to shift his arms into wings, nor had their bond done anything to alleviate his distaste of heights. Glancing down yet again, he heaved a heavy breath. Why was he here anyway? That was quite a steep fall if he made a mistake.

But he’d come this far.

He checked the ropes for tautness then carefully placed his foot on the first of many planks, adding his weight to it slowly. It creaked, but held him and seemed sturdy, as sturdy as a narrow bridge made of nothing but some basic wooden planks and liana could be anyway. Moving cautiously to ensure balance, he took a second step and then a third. He reached the center before looking down at the roaring rapids and jagged rocks below. His heart rate increased. You fool.

A group of parrots crossed in front of him squawking loudly, startling him and breaking his focus. He wobbled enough to make the bridge wobble in turn. His heart raced as the ropes began to swing and he fought to regain balance. But the plank under him split and his foot slipped through. The other followed. He hung by the liana swinging wildly with the bridge.

It twisted with his weight leaving the planks sitting slightly above his chest. Forcing himself not to look down, he stilled his body as best he could giving the bridge a moment to settle. But though he might be strong, he carried a lot of weight that he could only hold up for so long. So, he wasn’t able to allow it to settle completely before he had to start swinging his lower body up, kicking for the planks. With the movement of the bridge, it took him three tries to capture them. Once he did, he pulled himself back onto them with some effort and held tightly for what felt like an eternity waiting for the bridge to settle completely. Then he carefully made his way across the remaining planks and said a quick thank you to Argas as soon as his feet were firmly on solid ground again.

His relief was short lived though. Not ten steps into the path, he saw the eyes of a panther staring at him from a nearby branch. It was young, not yet fully grown, but already quite large. Zel guessed him to be at least half his own weight. It was more stocky than lean- a jaguar, not a leopard, all black with slightly visible rosettes. He didn’t know what spurred him to do it, but he cast his eyes upward and saw two more in the trees staring at him.

Not sure what their intent might be, he went to grab for his swords and remembered he’d given them to Elambor. Great. No swords. No armor. He glanced back to the bridge behind him in grim affirmation. No feasible exit. He was cornered.

With a hiss, the cat nearest him launched from the branch, claws extended, jaw open wide. Zel dodged faster than the eye could see. The animal attempted several more attacks with Zel dodging each. Eventually, he found an opening where he could maneuver to the back of the jaguar and grab it by its neck. He got his arms around it, tried to take it down, but it was too deft, too agile. It slunk from his grip and swung its head around, its skull crushing jaw coming dangerously close to Zel’s face. He had no choice but to release it completely.

It hissed viciously and lunged forward again, its claws barely missing Zel’s chest as Zel veered to the side with his lightning-fast speed. He tried to position himself so he could attack the jaguar from the back a second time, but the cat kept him dodging attack after attack before he found another opening. He shifted his mouth into his wolf’s jaw and attacked again, trying to come in from behind, trying to capture the cat’s neck in his jaw while, at the same time, avoiding the jaguar’s jaw at all costs. The cat whipped around throwing Zel off him. It roared and lunged forward once again. Zel evaded then positioned himself for his next attack. The cat moved away. Zel followed and they walked in a circle around one another several times before the cat finally stopped. It let out a deep, sustained roar, then sat.

Zel thought to attack, but held back. This wasn’t a moment of weakness. He’d seen this behavior before. The animal didn’t want to take it further because one of them would end up dead. This was to be an offering. Stronger animals often used force to take the measure of a Listra before offering themselves. Zel had passed the jaguar’s test.

It now stared at him with patient eyes, eyes that looked mostly yellow when the light hit them, but green when it didn’t. It waited. It was Zel’s turn to make himself vulnerable, to accept the offer or walk away.

He crouched.

The animal approached guardedly. Zel didn’t move, but allowed the jaguar to inspect him. “So, you’re one of Elambor’s ‘kittens,’ huh?” he said in a soft voice. The cat nudged Zel’s hand. He took the invitation and petted it, scratching it behind the ear. “And you like me, young one? Are you a male or female?” He gently put his hand under one of the animal’s paws and lifted. “Definitely male.” The cat rubbed against him. “And you want to be one of mine? I bet you climb.” After the bridge incident, both enhanced climbing capability and a boost in balance were awfully enticing.

“Oh, and I like your roar.” He dug his fingers into the fur of the cat’s neck and it let out a soft, deep purr. “The wolf’s growl is fantastic. But that roar, oh that roar would be something else. Do you want to share your roar with me, young one?” The cat roared, low and steady, an incredibly menacing sound that would be downright terrifying if heard coming from the darkness in the dead of night. “Oh, yes. Yes, indeed.” Zel beamed.

The cat got on its hind legs and leaned on him. He allowed the jaguar to knock him over and they wrestled on the ground playfully for a few minutes before Zel said, “Alright, you win. We’ll have to make sure you get along with the rest of the pack, but I think you’re going to be a great fit.” Zel looked up at the two cats he’d seen earlier, now recognizing them as mother and sibling to the one who’d offered himself. He wanted to make sure mama wasn’t going to reign terror upon him for taking one of her cubs, but she seemed content to watch them go.

He turned toward the bridge. “Come, my new, young one.” Zel observed as the jaguar crossed first, deftly, easily, his balance and agility on clear display. He was going to gain so much from this bond. But he didn’t have those abilities yet and still had to get across the bridge. The cat sat on the other side waiting as he traversed it carefully, and thankfully, without incident. He said another quick prayer to Argas when he reached the end.

Then he and the jaguar made their way through the rest of the jungle. Elambor approached only seconds after they entered the hallway in Tardokath Tower. “Ah, so you’ve decided to keep one of my kittens.” Elambor’s cheeks rounded with his smile.

“Yes… kittens… that was cute,” Zel said with a tilt of his head.

“It was the Oracle, not I, who referred to them as kittens.” His eyes were bright. “Sometimes our Oracle does have a sense of humor.”

“Apparently so. Is it alright with you if I take this one?”

“As a Listra strata? Oh yes. I’m not sure there is a higher calling for an animal.”

“Well, he’ll have to meet the rest of my strata first, but I think he’s going to be a good fit.”

“The rest?” Elambor cocked his head and rose a brow. “Do you have any here in my tower, Zelstrason?”

Zel hesitated. “There may be one, but she’s been instructed to keep out of sight and stay out of trouble. The other two are outside the tower walls.”

“Tsk, Tsk, Zelstrason,” Elambor said in mock admonishment. “Well, I suppose you could have lied. Alright then. If you can keep them all under control, you are free to invite them into the tower to commence with your introductions.”

“That’s very gracious of you, Elambor.” Zel offered a small bow.

Elambor nodded. “But before we move,” Elambor shifted his eyes to the jaguar. “am I safe to do so?”

“What do you mean?”

“The cat… am I safe to lead you to a room?”

Zel’s face bore a look of confusion.

“You see, Zelstrason, they may be my ‘kittens’ as the jungle itself is mine, in a manner of speaking anyway, but I don’t rule the animals in it. So, I’m asking if you have control over it yet.”

“I see,” Zel said though he didn’t see at all. How could a jungle belong to Elambor? He decided it might be best not to go down that road and instead just answered the question asked. “Not fully, not until I complete the ritual and bind him to me. But he’s opened himself to me. Because of that I can feel he’s calm right now, content, and I’ll know if he becomes agitated.”

“Can you defend me from him if he does… become agitated, I mean?”

“You took my weapons, Elambor.” Zel looked at him squarely.

“Oh, right. There is that. Well, what’s life without a little risk? Follow me, please.” Elambor turned with some caution then led them to an empty room where Zel could introduce the jaguar to the rest of his strata.

Essy arrived first since she was already in the tower. She slithered in and barely gave the jaguar a passing glance before slithering up to and around a wooden beam above them. Zel was pretty sure that, in Essy’s head, she was superior to all other animals, so superior that she never paid them any mind – unless they were prey, of course. The jaguar seemed just as disinterested in her and Zel was alright with that.

Bubo and Leyal entered at the same time. Bubo’s reaction was similar to Essy’s, though the owl displayed a touch more curiosity. Still, he ended up on the opposing wooden beam within seconds. And the jaguar didn’t react to Bubo at all, not with Leyal staring at him.

Leyal and the jaguar both assumed alert stances, their bodies noticeably taught as they eyed one another cautiously. The cat stilled and Zel gave Leyal a mental push to make friends. The wolf obliged, approaching guardedly until they were only a foot apart. He scented the air as the cat’s claws extended, scratched the floor, then retracted. The jaguar moved his head to the side in a peace offering and Leyal slowly closed the distance between them. He sniffed the jaguar’s neck up and down and the cat hissed in response, but didn’t otherwise attack or challenge. Leyal backed away and the jaguar straightened and relaxed, at least partially.

As far as introductions went, it was tense, but also about what Zel expected. It’d take some time, but they’d shown they were willing to respect one another, and that would be enough until they determined which would be the dominant of the two.

Zel requested Amora join them. He wanted her to meet the new addition and was interested to watch her interact with an animal who was not yet his strata. It was a risk because the cat would be dangerous until he bound it to him, but he felt certain she’d be safe.

She walked into the room and her eyes grew wide. “Oh Zel, what’s this?”

“A new strata. Not yet bound to me though, so still a danger.”

Amora’s face glowed with her smile. “Not to me, he isn’t.” She opened her arms and waited. The jaguar walked to her, sniffed her up and down and then rubbed his head into her chest. She nuzzled into his affections. “Oh, he’s a good choice, Zel.” She buried her hands in the cat’s neck. “And he’s huge.”

“And not yet fully grown.”

“He’s going to get bigger than this?” She ran her hands along the jaguar’s body. “He’s already got such muscles.”

“He will, and I’ll benefit greatly from this bond too.” He walked to them and joined Amora in burying his hand in the cat’s coat.

“What will you get from him?”

“More strength for one which, considering Osmet has three dire wolves, is something I’m in great need of now. He’ll also give me an even stronger jaw and bite – skull crushing capability, actually – added to what I already have from Leyal.”

“Whoa.” Her eyes grew wide.

“Jaguars are also adept swimmers and even better climbers. So, I'll gain agility, dexterity, balance.... he’s going to give me tremendous advantages.”

“So, this is a really big deal?”

“Yes, Amora.” He chuckled. “Every new strata is a very, very big deal for a warrior. Huge, in fact.”

“Well, congratulations then!” She hugged him enthusiastically. It caught him off guard as her affections often did, but he hugged her back, her excitement fueling his own.

When they separated, she asked, “How do you do it? Bind him to you, I mean?”

“There’s a ritual. The first step is giving him a name.”

“Oh. Have you decided what he’s to be called then?”

“I have.” As though the jaguar understood him, he turned and waited. “You’re eager to be mine, huh?” Zel bent to the cat’s level and looked him in the eyes. “That’s good. It means you’ll be a good strata for me, Kitten.”

The jaguar licked his face and Zel laughed. “Oh, you like that, do you?”

“Did you just name him Kitten?”

“I did, girl. People will think we’re referring to a harmless animal when we talk about him. It’ll be grand.”

“I like it,” she said, her voice bubbly. “And the rest of the ritual?”

“Can’t be completed until Arpemal’s moon is full in the night sky. I wanted to ensure you two got along before I took him though, that you’d be safe as he won’t truly be under my control until I complete the ritual.”

“If it’s an animal that has fur, I’m always safe.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” Zel said though he still intended to be cautious with her.

They walked back to the entrance hall and Zel ushered the animals, including his new jaguar, into the outer courtyard to put everyone in the tower at ease. A young servant boy waited until the animals were out of sight before he returned Zel’s weapons. After they thanked Elambor and just before they left Tardokath, Zel noticed an attractive woman looking at them from a second-floor balcony. Her skin was dark, almost a pure black, making her striking, bright hazel eyes prominent. She gazed at him, nodded, and smiled knowingly. Zel thought it odd, but Myara regularly struck him as mysterious- and he often found that both intriguing and frustrating at the same time.

Amora stayed quiet as they traversed the eerie outer courtyard and exterior of the tower, but started talking as soon as they were beyond the tower’s perimeter shield. “I can’t believe you just got a new strata. That’s amazing,” she said wide-eyed.

“It is,” he agreed. “At least one good thing came of this visit.”

“What do you mean? What did the Oracle say?”

“Bah.” He brushed his hand through the air in dismissal. “Besides Kitten, the Oracle was a complete waste of time.”

“No. That can’t be.”

“Well, he made no sense at all. Nothing he said made any bloody sense, not one word of it.”

“I think you’re being hasty.”

“I’m not,” he said as they rejoined Leyal and picked up their belongings.

“Really? Why? Because you know everything?” She jutted her chin toward him.

“Me?” He turned to face her. “You’re calling me a know-it-all? You? Out of the two of us? Really?”

“Oh please.” She put her hands on her hips. “You’re just jealous because I am the one who usually does actually know things around here.”

“Yeah, well, do you know a female called Miadreena?” he shot back at her.

“No. Why? Should I?”

“Apparently not. See. I told you. It makes no sense.”

“What are you talking about?”

“That’s exactly what I asked him.”

“Ugh, Zel.” Amora threw her hands up. “Gods, you’re annoying.”

He turned and started walking.

She joined him. “Do you remember everything he told you?”

“I think so. So what?” He held out her quiver and the bow attached to it.

She took both from him and slung the set over her shoulder. “So, we’ll go through it word by word and figure it out.”

Zel pursed his lips.

“You know it’s what we have to do.”

He didn’t answer.

“Mmm hmm. You know I’m right,” she said with a nod.

He gave her a sideways glance but couldn’t contain his grin. He did know she was right. “Frustrating know-it-all,” he said under his breath yet purposely loud enough for her to hear.

She jabbed at his side playfully. He put his arm around her, grabbed her in a headlock and grated his knuckles against her head. He was gentle with her though, so she laughed and tickled his side. He laughed and released her. “You just wait. I’m going to get you in your sleep.”

“You go ahead and try, little girl.”

She slapped at him playfully and he dodged. It felt so good to have some fun again. The night before had cleansed him somehow. And it felt good to finally get along with her too.

They found a quaint spot with a few fallen trees near a stream. It was a good place to rest and go through the Oracle’s message. He let the animals roam while they reviewed it word by word as Amora had suggested. A while later, they came to a few conclusions.

“So, there is a spell and we have to find your friend Fogard to find out who cast it on us,” Amora said.

“I think so.”

“And we have to go back to the beginning.”

“Right.”

“And we think the beginning is either in Thalaria where you met him after he escaped Listrand, in Socentra where you smuggled him to, or somewhere near Veyforge where Ankara wanted them to settle.”

“Right. But I’ve searched all those locations more times than I can count over the years. What’s different now?”

“Me. You didn’t search with me.”

“Do you feel something, know something? Like in the way you know things?”

“I think so.” She looked up, shook her head. “Gods, I wish I could figure out this ability.”

“Maybe someone cast this spell on us so you can use your ability to help me find Fogard and things will become clearer as we get closer?” Zel suggested.

“Maybe.”

“Either way,” Zel continued, “we should focus on where we need to go next. Of the three towns, I think we should pass on Veyforge considering the risk of getting hung if we go back there right now.”

“I’m all for not getting hung.”

“And Socentra is very far away.”

“That leaves Thalaria.”

“Right,” Zel said. “So, we start making our way to Thalaria tomorrow.”

He spent the last of the afternoon teaching her how to use her new bow. She practiced until dark while he set up a shelter.

After a much-needed full night’s sleep, they travelled the nearest dirt path to Thalaria, a path that put them directly in line with Lurran. Amora requested they make a stop, said she had something hidden there, something that meant a lot to her.

He hesitated, not because he didn’t want her to have the memento she was looking for, but because he worried she’d be negatively affected by seeing her village, by seeing people she knew in life, people she grew up with, dead. Still, it wasn’t far out of the way and there was no good reason to deny her request.

The bright afternoon turned dark as heavy clouds rolled in on their way. Now, they hung overhead, stubbornly stationary, adding even more cheerlessness to the already dismal scene that was what remained of Lurran. None of it seemed to bother her though, not seeing the village decimated, or seeing the remains of her former neighbors, most of which the animals had already torn apart. The only thing she complained about was the odor. And it was ghastly. There is nothing like the stench of decomposing bodies, particularly when one’s smell is heightened. Hopefully, he’d go nose blind to it soon.

They stood in front of her old house, a wooden two-room shack like so many others that dotted the villages throughout Vaylen, now one of the few homes still standing in Lurran. The door had been torn off its hinges and it had been looted, but it had escaped the fires and the structure itself remained unscathed. As he took in the scene and her reaction to it, he couldn’t help but wonder about her life in this place. “Was there no one here you loved or cared for, girl?” He had to ask.

“There was no one here who loved or cared for me,” she said with bitterness, then turned to face him. “Please don’t pity me, Zel. I can feel it coming from you and I don’t want it, not your pity. I want your help. I want you to teach me how to be strong, how to fight, and how to defend myself. But I don’t want your pity. Not now. Not ever.”

Pity? She felt his pity. Could she feel his indecision too? Or read his mind? Did she know he’d been thinking about her desire to stay with him, and how much he was struggling with deciding what to do? How could he let her go out into the world without his protection now? After all they’d been through? She was a pain in his ass, but… well, maybe he’d grown fond of her.

He was worried about the risk though. If Osmet were to find out about her or find out she was associated with him in any way…

And what about Listrand? He didn’t want to become Laspet, but his warriors were calling on him.

She needed him. They needed him. And both were pulling in different directions. He hoped the Gods would give him a sign soon.