Leoht (BloodRunes: Book 3) (15 page)

Thoughts of their relationship, or lack
thereof, given the way the two of them seemed to be ignoring one
another, led her mind down the familiar path of trying to determine
what her own feelings for the King were. She had spent a total of
ten minutes with the man, but felt as if she had known him a
lifetime. She had every reason to hate him, but the feelings that
swirled around her mind every time she thought of him bordered more
on affection. Not to mention that he kept invading her dreams. She
was just so confused.

Then there was the Oracle’s prediction, that
those who she cherished would be fated to suffer…the man she
loved
might be fated to die? She dashed that thought from
her mind. It was just some silly woman’s ramblings. The Three in
Layna’s head had only answered her unasked question about the first
part of the prediction being true, she hadn’t been thinking about
the second.

She looked up suddenly and was surprised to
find that she had been so lost in thought that she hadn’t noticed
the changing landscape around her. Off in the distance, she could
see the outline of a forest. She quickened her pace, glad to have a
chance to get out of the boredom of the plains.

Hours later, the forest seemed no closer and
Katya had to pause for a water break. She stabilized the area
around her spell, though she couldn’t control it completely as
water needed to be drawn from far-off sources that were not
encompassed in her cleansing and oftentimes she still had
difficulties, and began the process. A large power surge surprised
her and water was dumped on her from above. Very large quantities
of water. She sputtered and coughed as the deluge finally petered
out and she groped around for her water bag. It was empty.

Well now
.

The chaos seemed to be getting stronger, and
obviously there was much more water available here. Even with that
much power-load the plains wouldn’t have been able to produce that
much. At least it was solid evidence that she was in fact getting
closer to the forest. Because it still looked just as far away as
it had before.

She got up from where the pounding of water
had thrashed her to the ground and thought about drying herself
with a spell. But she didn’t feel like risking setting herself on
fire instead, so she tramped forwards miserably, resigning herself
to sucking the water out of her clothes rather than try for a
second round.

Just as the sun was beginning to set, the
forest looming before her did appear closer and she could now see
why they had not before. The trees were gigantic. She must have
been able to spot them from miles away. Wary of the new
environment, though excited for the change, Katya decided to make
camp for the night where she was rather than travel any closer to
the monstrous trees. Given the display of chaos earlier, it
wouldn’t hurt any to spend a few extra minutes on the cleansing
process either.

She did just that and found herself sweating
by the time she was finished. It was getting much harder this far
away from civilization. By the time she was finished, she collapsed
into her bedroll, exhausted.

Before she could even begin to dream, she
awoke with a start, though her body showed no motion. Marak had
pinched her arm, letting her know that something was here. She
located her knives beneath her pillow and wrapped her hands around
them, cracking her eyes open for the source of Marak’s disquiet.
She spotted it rummaging about in the remains of the campfire where
she had cooked a bird she’d been able to knock out of the air with
her slingshot. She’d been careful to bury the remains far beneath
the coals to try and mask the smell, but apparently she hadn’t done
it quite well enough.

She sat up slowly, not taking her eyes off
the beast which appeared to be a cross between an animal and an
insect. Its body was covered in scaly armor, and it was digging
through the coals with a foot like a lizard Katya had once seen
pictures of in a book that could change its color depending on its
environment.

It was alerted to her presence by her
movement and it shot forward with amazing speed, opening a
beak-like mouth at her and screeching its annoyance at the
interruption in its foraging. Katya swung both knives around with
all of her might, connecting with the beast’s neck. One knife
bounced off the armor-like hide but the other sunk in to the hilt,
drenching her hand in sticky green blood. She withdrew both weapons
and spun around for a second pass, but the beast, whatever it was,
seemed to have been more fatally wounded than she realized. It
wobbled back and forth for a moment before tumbling to the ground
with a pitiful moan.

Katya carefully made her way over to it and
prodded it sharply with her toe. It made no movement, and the sand
before its mouth remained still. She examined its remains with
interest, noting that it was shaped somewhat like the lizard, a
chameleon she believed it had been called, with a slightly hunched
back and rather uneven legs. Upon closer inspection, Katya decided
that it probably hadn’t been out to kill her after all. She had
most likely just surprised it into attacking. The beak-like mouth
suggested that it ate seeds and nuts like birds, and with trees as
big as those could imagine how a creature might have grown to the
size that this had - that of a large dog - off its seeds.

Katya refortified her shielding spell and
gave Marak a grateful pat on the head. Then she dragged the corpse
a good distance away before returning for sleep. She was still
sorely tired from her exploits earlier in the day, and she had
pushed herself to the brink getting the beast far enough away that
she felt somewhat secure that anything that the fresh meat
attracted would not then follow the scent to her. When her head hit
the pillow for the second time that night, she fell into a deep
sleep, not to be invaded by dreams.

*

Nathair flew over the fighting, feeling a
rush of adrenaline surge through him. After taking the time to
ensure the support of his people, he was finally able to begin the
attacks. He had ordered the troops to start a series of short raids
into the border villages to see what kind of opposition they might
come up against. They had secured several bridges and crossing
places across the river, and made camps on the opposite side, so
the Treymaynians had already lost the advantage of using that
natural barrier as a defense. Seeing as how Jezebel had reported
that the council had been made aware of the threat of war, he was
surprised at the lack of resistance.

So far, all it had been was a few tough
farmers with their pitchforks. There had been one or two cases of
talented individuals who had tried to use their power to stop his
men, and Nathair had gotten the pleasure of taking these out
himself. He was a little worried that the mages and bloodbeasts
would become bored with no real opposition.

Assured that the battle at hand was well
under control, Nathair winged his way deeper into Treymaynian
territory. He was hit by a few rogue arrows that people shot up at
him, but nothing could penetrate his thick hide and he ignored them
for now. Their turn would come soon enough. Instead, he kept
flying, looking for the Treymaynian army. Where were they? Wouldn’t
they come to defend their people?

Then he spotted them, in numbers larger than
he would have expected for them to have been able to come up with
on such short notice and he veered off to the left. A fireball
whooshed past his wingtip and he hastily withdrew it into himself.
Unfortunately, this motion sent him into a spiral, careening
towards the ground. Instead of panicking, he flailed about as if
injured all the while keeping an eye at the place where the attack
had come from.

The mage, thinking that his target was hurt,
stood from his hiding spot, giving away his location, and flung out
his hands to deliver what he must think would be a deadly blow.
Nathair whipped open both wings and caught the air forcefully under
them, turning with the speed and grace that was now a combination
of both his and Nuko’s experience and he let loose a barrage of
fire out of his mouth towards the mage.

The mage stopped his arms half-way through
their spell-weaving and he stared wide-eyed and open-mouthed at the
rush of fire heading for him. His blood-curdling screams ended
abruptly and Nathair paused to snatch up the char-broiled
snack.

He unleashed another swath of fire down the
middle of the encampment and was rewarded with the sound of screams
and shouting and the stench of burning flesh and supplies. They
regrouped faster than expected, however, and sent a combination of
magic and arrows against him and he was forced to retreat. There
was no reason he had to wipe out their entire army, he had his own
to do that for him. He just enjoyed being part of the action.

He made his way back to where his royal camp
was set up, as he was also commanding the army he had insisting on
being set up right in the midst of it all. His pathetic advisor had
whined about this as well, and even after Nathair had spent all
that time winning his subjects’ faith like the man had wanted, he
still tried to convince him that it was too early for war.

His advisor came out of the tent just as
Nathair was landing and he paused a moment longer than he normally
would have before changing back into human form. He enjoyed the
intense look of fear that appeared on the man’s face every time he
saw this form. As soon as he was transformed, the man rushed
forward.

“There’s been news, My Liege, about the
garrison’s to the north. Apparently while we have been engaged
here, the enemy has surrounded one of the encampments and they have
been forced to surrender.”

“Which one?” Nathair asked, not bothering to
stop walking, but forcing the man to follow behind him into the
tent where he stood in front of the large table he had had set up
there, displaying a map of the two countries. He leaned his hands
against it, and examined the bases they had in place to the
north.

“This one, Sire, the Fourth Wing.” His
advisor pointed on the map. Nathair smiled, he had named all of his
units according to the dragon emblem of his house, which had also
fortuitously been his true calling. The Wings were all the units
which had been equipped with slave bracers.
This should be
entertaining
. Those units were also complete with mage handlers
and usually also a corral of blood beasts. He wondered how the
Treymaynians had been able to overcome them.

“How did they manage to get the better of the
mages and their four-legged companions?” Nathair asked.

“Apparently they were in transition, the army
caught them in surprise when they were on the move and were able to
separate the men from the rest and then they retreated with them.
The mages are awaiting your orders to go after them or not as they
had not yet been authorized for a direct attack onto enemy
soil.”

“Tell them to stay put,” Nathair ordered,
“I’ll take care of this myself.”

“Sire?” the man squeaked, “Don’t you think
you should stay here?”

Nathair turned his full gaze on the man and
fixed him with an intense stare. He was about to argue with the man
when he suddenly noticed something interesting. The man’s sleeve
had bunched up at the elbow, revealing the tattoo of an eye on his
forearm. The symbol of the Order. Usually the tattoo was only used
for those in the lower ranks to recognize one another when the
secrecy of their identities was not of the highest concern, but the
fact that a member of the Order had become his advisor in the first
place, and how he had escaped his notice…

Nathair turned his back on the man and
rummaged through his chest. Pulling out an amber stone and tucking
it away in the pouch on his belt, he exited the tent, keeping his
eyes glued to his advisor the whole way out. He transformed and
leapt into the air, only vaguely aware of the fact that his muscles
were starting to fatigue.

While he flew, his thoughts wandered to the
man and he tried to remember when he had first hired him. What was
his name? Frederick. He’d first hired Frederick right after
ascending to the throne. On the advice of Jonathan wasn’t it? Could
the man have been more aware that Nathair had been using the Order
for his own personal gain? Or perhaps someone else had figured it
out and used the man against him. Or perhaps it was simply
coincidence. Supposedly all of the lower ranks of the Order had
been shut down since they finally discovered his plot to infiltrate
them, so it probably didn’t matter now anyway.

He was coming up on the encampment where the
mages looked to be having some trouble containing the bloodbeasts.
Nathair landed and used his body to corral the escapees back into
their pen. The things cowered before him. So did the people. Once
the mages had locked it up, he changed into a more comfortable form
for talking.

“Report?”

One of the mages rushed forward and he
assumed that this must be the leader of their little band. “We were
mobile, Sire, when suddenly we were attacked from the rear, the
infantrymen were stationed behind us and we were separated. We were
able to take out the paltry force in the lead quite easily, but
when we returned out attention to the rest of their troops we
realized that they had disappeared into the night with our
men.”

“Disappeared into the night?”

“They were just gone, Sire,” he wrung his
hands together, clearly agitated and rightfully concerned that this
failure might be brought down upon his own head. “We think that
perhaps because the slaves hadn’t actually been given the command
to fight yet since we were not ordered to attack that they simply
went along with their captors.”

“None of you thought to command them
otherwise?”