Resistance (Ilyon Chronicles Book 1) (4 page)

“You’re free.”

Jace’s eyes darted around the area—first to the trees, then to the horses, and finally back to his rescuer for a moment. Rayad sensed the energy building inside him. Energy no doubt fueled by volatile ryrik blood. Any moment he could bol
t
…
or attack. There’d be no stopping him either way. Rayad masked his apprehension with a conversational tone.

“Listen, you can go if you wish, but people would probably suspect you’re a runaway, and you could be enslaved again. If you come with me, I can offer you a good, warm meal and better prepare you to go on your way.”

Jace’s restless gaze fixed on him, but offered no answer. Rayad grabbed the horses’ leads and looked off toward the city. The sun had sunk behind it now. He wouldn’t get much farther today.

“Why don’t we head into the forest and find somewhere out of the way to set up camp for the night?”

He headed for the trees. After a few yards, he glanced back to find Jace following. Perhaps he did have a chance at helping this young man.

A good distance in, Rayad veered off the road and found a suitable clearing a couple of hundred yards into the forest. Any snooping soldiers wouldn’t bother to look here. But it also left him at Jace’s mercy. The young man appeared
only too aware of this fact.

“We’ll camp here,” Rayad murmured, and forced
himself to turn to the horses, half-expecting to find himself strangled from behind. Tension squeezed his muscles, and an uncomfortable sensation of pressure built around his throat. A minute or two passed, and he relaxed. He looked over his shoulder. Jace just stood and stared at him as if seeing some foreign life form.

Rayad pulled the saddle from Aros’s back. “I won’t force you to do anything, but if you feel up to it, you can gather some firewood while I tend the horses. Don’t strain yourself—just enough to get the fire going. Then I’ll start supper.”

He went on with his work. A moment later, Jace walked off. Soon, Rayad had the horses hobbled and grazing, and he cleared a place for the fire. He rested back on his heels and peered into the quiet shadows of the forest. Not a sign of Jace. Maybe he was gone for good, or just waiting in the forest until night fell. And why not? It would be easy to steal the horses and get away in the dark.
This is in Your hands, Lord, whatever happens.
Still, he’d just as soon not have to walk all the way north and find a way to survive without supplies or money.

His stomach grumbled in response to such thoughts, and he reached for his pack to dig out his food supplies. When he looked up again, Jace walked just outside the camp. His muscular arms encircled a bundle of wood, and he approached with impressively quiet steps.

Rayad let a small smile grow and rose to his feet. “Thank you.”

Jace blinked. He’d probably never heard that before.

“Just set it down, and I’ll start a fire.”

Jace did so and stood back, watching. Murmuring to himself, Rayad put together a meal of rice, beans, and meat—not a feast by any stretch of the imagination, but filling. He dished a generous portion into a bowl and offered it to Jace. The young man took it and sat opposite him across the fire. After the first ravenous bite, all else seemed forgotten for the moment.

Less intent on his meal, Rayad studied his interesting new companion. First glance would lead most to see Jace as fully human, but for someone familiar with ryriks, the similarities went beyond his pointed ears. Coal-black hair, intense blue eyes, and strong build—clear signs of his ryrik blood—not to mention the flashes of anger characteristic of a ryrik. But how many other traits and tendencies did the young man share? The bloodlust? The deep hatred for other races? The fits of rage that could be sparked by anything?

Rayad shook his head. Only Elôm knew what other traits Jace might possess or how prominent they might be. Rayad would have to discover that for himself. He’d never before heard of anyone with mixed ryrik blood. Women never lived to tell of ryrik attacks, yet here Jace sat.

Jace downed the contents of his bowl and set it aside. His eyes snagged on the sheathed sword propped up next to Rayad. Their gazes met. Rayad tried to gauge what lay behind the iron-like shell that portrayed such hardness, yet hid such pain. Murderous intentions? Maybe, but Rayad had seen that in men before and found none of it in this young man.

Well, he’d know the answer soon enough. He reached for his sword. Jace’s whole body tensed, ready to spring, and light flared in his eyes. Rayad laid the sword on the ground between them, the hilt just a foot away from Jace’s hand. He had only to grab it. Considering the swiftness Rayad had witnessed in the arena, the young man could have the deed over and done with in a moment.

“If you intend to kill me, get it over with. I won’t be able to stop you, and I won’t sit up all night watching you.” He had too far to travel to play guard night after night. He needed alertness and rest should other foes discover his trail.

Jace’s dark brows dipped low over his eyes. “You’re not afraid?”

“Of dying? Not really.” Rayad settled against his saddle, resting in the complete truth of his words. He didn’t particularly care to die now, but he didn’t fear it. “I’ve lived a full life, and I’m a firm believer in King Elôm.”

Jace stared at him for a long, drawn-out moment. The fire crackled fitfully between them.

“Why?” the question came at last.

“Why what?” Rayad asked.

“Why are you doing this for me—a half ryrik?” Jace grimaced, and the mask slipped to reveal the true agony that lived inside him. He nearly choked on the words. “An animal. All hate me.”

He hardened again, but that look left a dull ache in Rayad’s heart as if bruised. “I’m not so sure of that,” he said softly. He cleared his throat. “As for your question, I don’t hold with cruelty or injustice. And you may not understand, but I feel compelled to help you.” How could he not when his father had lived a similar sort of life? He would do the same if he were here. He’d been a rare type of man—always going out of his way to help those less fortunate. “It’s up to you whether or not you accept my help.”

Firelight danced in his gem-like eyes as Jace considered Rayad’s words. His gaze fell on the sword, and he gripped the hilt, lifting it up. Rayad only watched him. Jace stared at the weapon before deftly tossing the hilt in the air and catching the sword around the scabbard. Eyes back on Rayad, he offered the hilt.

“I won’t kill you.”

Rayad took his sword and smiled faintly.

A
robin warbled in the branches overhead. Rayad shifted under his wool blanket as sleep wore off. His eyes popped open. Well, he was alive. Now, would Jace and the horses still be there? He propped himself up on his elbow. The two horses stood beneath the trees where he’d tied them. The stallion nipped at Aros who snorted and stomped his hoof in warning. Rayad gave his own little snort and rolled over to peer through the thin tendrils of smoke rising from the fire’s embers. Jace lay on the other side, wrapped in an extra blanket.

Rayad sat up. The young man did not stir. In his sleep, Jace’s face had relaxed entirely and revealed an almost heartbreaking look of innocence. Sympathy rose inside Rayad. With no children of his own, something took hold of him he’d never experienced before—a desire to show this young man a true home and life away from cruelty—to show him something other than hatred.

But a frown tugged at his brows. What did he have to offer? He had no family, no home, no money, and absolutely no experience with this sort of thing. After a long moment of contemplation, the answer came clear as the sky overhead. He knew Elôm. What could be greater than that knowledge? He rose to his feet, ran a hand through his short hair, and rolled up his bedroll. He may turn out to be horrible at this parenting thing, but he could give it a tr
y
…
if Jace would let him.

He chuckled softly to himself at the humor in it. One moment he was running for his life, and the next he was taking in a troubled young man, and a half ryrik one at that.
I’m sure You set that all up
, he easily conversed with his King and Creator.
I just haven’t the faintest idea why yet
.

Though Rayad worked quietly to pack his supplies, Jace jerked upright. He stared around the clearing, his eyes confused at first, but then his gaze landed on Rayad. He breathed out a long breath. The tension returned to his face.

“Sleep well?” Rayad asked.

Jace just stared at him, as usual.

“Yes,” he murmured at last.

“Good. When we’ve eaten, we can be on our way.” Rayad paused. “That is, if you’d like to join me.”

“Where are you going?”

Rayad almost smiled at the lack of suspicion in his eyes. “I have some old friends who live a few days north of here near Kinnim. I hope to stay with them for a time until other arrangements can be made.”

“You have no home?”

Unwanted memories stirred Rayad’s mind, still too fresh to leave behind. “No, not anymore
…I’m on the run.”

Surprise perked Jace’s expression.

“I’m wanted by the emperor’s men,” Rayad explained. If Jace joined him, he had to know the truth since it could endanger him as well. And if Jace decided to turn him in, well, he was willing to risk it. He’d already placed himself at Jace’s mercy. “They want me for speaking out against his desire to force Arcacia to worship his false gods. They consider me a rebel…among other things. What about you? Is there someplace you’d rather go?”

Jace looked away, hiding his face, and shook his head.

Rayad let him have a moment. He pulled a good bit of jerky and hardtack from his pack and offered it to him. The young man took it without a word, but Rayad picked up the smallest spark of gratitude.

“My friends,” he went on, “they’re an older couple.” Jace glanced at him, and Rayad smirked. “Yes, older than me, and very kind. They live on a small farm about ten miles from the nearest village, so there won’t be many people, and no one to come looking for us. So, would you like to join me?”

Jace swallowed and raised his yearning, yet hesitant eyes. “I don’t think your friends would have me.” His voice dropped lower. “I’m a killer.”

Considering what he’d seen of Jace in the arena and during supper last night, Rayad felt confident enough to say, “I don’t believe that.”

Doubt lingered in Jace’s expression, and Rayad assured him, “I know Kalli and Aldor will welcome you. Trust me, you’ll never meet kinder or gentler souls.”

Rayad smiled in memory of how the two, as a young couple, had shown up at his parents’ home during a raging storm with hardly more than the clothes on their backs and about to deliver their first child. They’d worked on the farm long enough to get back on their feet before setting out to establish their own place and had kept in touch over the years. It would be
real good to see them again.

With a slow nod, Jace accepted his words.

Following their brief breakfast, Rayad retrieved Aros to saddle him. Then he went for the stallion. The moment he loosed the rope from the tree, the horse pranced around and yanked against the lead.

“Oh, don’t you start with me.” Rayad scowled. Didn’t he have enough to contend with without always having to fight the cantankerous beast? And his sire
had been so well behaved. He would gladly have traded the two, yet the stallion’s wild nature was to thank for preventing the animal from being stolen. That was his only consolation in this—the thought of how much trouble the emperor’s soldiers must have faced before giving up on the horse. Hopefully he’d sent them back to the barracks with a few bruises.

“Come on,” he commanded and tugged the lead toward Aros.

But the stallion planted his feet and would not budge.

“Well, if you aren’t the most stubborn, ornery
…”

He flicked the end of the rope at the horse’s hindquarters. The big, black animal jumped sideways, but still refused to move. Rayad’s hackles rose. After all the many years he’d spent
training horses with his father and on his own, he’d developed great patience and knowledge where the animals were concerned, but this one tried it like no other. He glared at the beast, convinced it stood there mocking him.