Blood-Bound [ Lore of Penrua: Book I ]

41

Then, a darker shape seemed to shift in the branches.

Mhera saw two hot coals burning in the night. "Matei—"

A black shape crossed her vision. The wind was struck from her lungs as a huge weight landed on her, knocking her to the ground. She hit her head on a root twisting up out of the earth. The only sound she managed to get out was her initial cry of surprise, and then she could only lay dazed, without a scrap of breath remaining. She tried to get her wind back in shallow gasps under the incredible weight.

Some great, hulking creature was crouched with its heavy paws on her chest. She felt a bone-chilling growl reverberate through her whole body. A hot, humid breath washed over her neck and cheek. Lightly, the creature applied the lethal pressure of its fangs against her throat, and she felt a sickening drip of saliva slide down her neck to her collarbone. Icy panic flooded her veins and froze her, but the fangs on her flesh made it impossible for her to struggle even if she had had the presence of mind.

"Mhera!" Matei cried, crashing through the trees. She heard him stop dead with the grinding sound of his boot heel on the earth some distance to her left. The huge animal shifted its weight, moving a giant head to look at Matei. She could feel the rolling of its muscles, coiled to strike.

"Let her go!" Matei cried. To Mhera's ears, the challenge was strained with fear. There was a crackling sound and a flicker of light illuminated the trees around them briefly before fading to a blue-white glow. At the same time, Mhera felt a strange, familiar sensation: a wave of heat flooding up through her forearms. Was he drawing on her now?

Matei spoke again: "You there! Call off the shadowcat, or it will answer no more to you!"

Mhera tried to shift her weight. The great cat was crushing her. She drew a shallow, painful breath and reached in panic to grasp its foreleg. The fur was silky beneath her fingers, incongruous when considered against the snarling jaws she could now feel hovering somewhere near her face.

A new voice, husky and commanding, said, "Name yourself." It came from the trees somewhere far above her. "I have an arrow leveled at your heart, and know this: I never miss my mark."

There was a breathless silence. Would Matei name himself? Surely not. Surely it would be a death sentence to do so. He couldn't. This was where they would die ... It seemed the rustling of the leaves high above was the soft sound of the Reaper's beating wings. Goddess preserve me. Preserve us.

But what Matei said was not his own name. "Uachi?"

Another silence. Then, from the trees, the same command, almost questioning now. "Name yourself."

Matei gave a short, relieved laugh. "Goddess above! Uachi, it's me. It's Matei. Please, call this beast off. The woman comes with me."

There was a rustle and a thud nearby, the sound of someone dropping from a branch to the ground. The stranger clicked his tongue. "Farra. Release her."

The enormous beast's weight was immediately lifted. Mhera sat up, gratefully drawing a full breath. Her head throbbed, but other than a bruise or two she was unharmed. By the time Matei had reached her side to help her to her feet, Mhera had managed to stand on her own.

"Are you alright?" he asked.

"Yes ..."

Matei nodded and passed her by. Mhera followed him with her gaze. He was approaching a hooded stranger who stood at a short distance from them. Matei clapped the man on the shoulder.

"Matei," Uachi said. His husky voice was leavened with gladness. "We had begun to lose any hope of seeing you yet alive. Word came back that there was a massacre at the mill. They said you'd been taken. Only Oreon and Torr returned, and neither thought you likely to survive. What happened?"

Matei's shoulders had stiffened into a rigid line. "Later," he said. "I have much to tell you, Uachi, but if we are not far from Hanpe, I think it prudent to get there with all haste."

"I'm on patrol. Oreon is not far. I can spare myself to guide you there." Uachi turned his face toward Mhera. Beneath the deep hood, she could see nothing of his features. He stood half a head taller than Matei, who himself looked down at Mhera; his shoulders were very broad, and he gave her the impression of a hawk: watchful, sharp, and dangerous. She took one careful look before turning her eyes away, and in that short time made out a quiver of arrows on his back, a bow in one gloved hand, daggers at his waist and a hilt protruding from a boot. He wore some sort of leather outerwear over his clothes.

This was a man ready to fight. He did not hide his power as Matei had, but wore it brazenly.

"Who is the girl?" Uachi asked. She felt him looking at her.

"I will explain later," said Matei.

But Uachi had noticed something. He took a step back and raised his bow, as if by instinct. "What is this, Matei?"

"Uachi—"

"Look at her. She wears no marke, and you come from the capitol. No Arcborn woman there goes unmarked."

"Uachi, I'll explain."

"We are but a few miles from Hanpe, Matei! Did those imperialist corpsemakers addle your wits? She'll carry the tale back to that devil on the throne—"

Mhera flushed. She did not know why she felt ashamed, but although she knew she should speak to defend her uncle, she did not say a word. She had no idea how to react.

"She won't. Uachi, as we are brothers and friends, trust me on this matter. Trust me. As I said, I have much to tell you. Everything will be clear. She's my companion."

Uachi flung a finger out, accusing Mhera with the gesture. "You compromise everything we have built for her? A Starborn wench? Is she worth it, Matei?"

Mhera heard the accusation in Uachi's tone, heard it in his disgust. He thought they were lovers. Her face was hot with embarrassment and anger.

"Be silent!" Matei snapped. Mhera felt the hairs at the back of her neck prickle as a crackling, electric sensation pervaded the air immediately around them. There was a glow of light, and Mhera saw jagged rings of power sparking around Matei's fist, which he held ready at his side. She stared, terrified, at the first visible manifestation of magic she had seen in her life. She felt the pull of it, the faint sensation that some of it was coming from her own body.

Uachi noticed the spellwork, and though he still stood calmly, he shifted his stance as if in readiness for battle. The sound of Farra's growl vibrated from the dark trees around them. Uachi did not back away.

"I said she can be trusted. Harm her, and friend or not, I will knock you flat on your back. She goes under my protection. You will not insult her. You will not touch her. Do you understand?"

Uachi seemed to be taking the measure of his erstwhile friend from the depths of his cowl. Finally, he shrugged. "Bring the wench, then. I am not troubled by it. Only be prepared for what welcome she will receive," he said. He looked at Mhera again. She sensed his hateful gaze although she did not see his face. He spat on the dirt at her feet.

Mhera was mute. At once she was ashamed, furious, and indignant. In her youth as a noblewoman and even as a shrouded nun, she had been shown respect. Never in her life had she been called a "wench" or treated as a deceitful harlot. She wanted badly to speak her mind, but now she was in the company of not just one, but two dangerous men. Matei may have defended her, but she knew that his loyalties might lie with Uachi when worse came to worst, long before they would lie with her.

Could the blood-binding truly undo what might be years of friendship? She had no choice but to stay silent.