Blood of the Guardian (23 page)

The gypsies stopped at Rikar’s cage next, grunting in satisfaction at seeing him still alive. They threw a hunk of meat to him, forgoing the plate altogether. Nolan paused, gawking. They treated him horribly. Nolan gripped his plate, and the metal groaned. He jerked his head down and cursed; he’d crushed the edges of the plate in, leaving finger-shaped grooves. He’d forgotten to restrain his Strength.

Rikar gradually crawled toward his meal. Slouching, he picked straw off his meat. Nolan flared his Empathy and spoke to Rikar’s mind.

“Are you all right?”

Rikar’s head jerked up, and he met Nolan’s eyes.
“I will be fine.”

A trotting horse drew Nolan’s attention. He turned as Jezebelle drew back on a brown and white mare. It whinnied and bobbed its head as she threw a braid over her shoulder.

“Emissary,” she said.

Nolan placed his hands on his hips.

“I have been thinking of what you said when we were in the city of Renfrew.”

Nolan scowled. “I said a lot in that city.”

Jezebelle reached to the side of her horse, opposite Nolan’s cage. She revealed a worn leather pouch, one that Nolan knew exceptionally well.

He straightened and dropped his arms. Jezebelle pulled out a Stone of Brim, turning it in her palm.

“Where did you get that?” Nolan growled.

A laugh bubbled from her. “Your room, of course. You didn’t think I’d leave them there, did you?”

Both excitement and rage swelled.
She took them. They are here, but still outside my reach.
His anger turned to hope. Rikar could get them, maybe even tonight. He wouldn’t have to search for them at Faylinn.

She pulled on the reins, taking a few sidesteps away. “So, Emissary. Is what you say true? That all can gain a Shay power?”

Nolan didn’t answer.

“And if so,” she continued, “how does one know which one? All six look the same.”

Nolan turned away. Crows take her!
Now
she believed him? In the city, she started a mutiny with her doubts. Why should Nolan help
her
gain one of the Shays? She could rot in the Darkness as far he cared. Then, an idea slipped into his mind. He would be helping her, but she would have to arrange the stones in a way to obtain the light—the light Nolan so desperately needed. He turned to her, swallowing his revulsion. “Which one calls to you?”

She nodded and rummaged the pouch, the stones clinking against one another. Finally, she pulled one out, fingering the smooth surface in her palm. “I keep going back to this one.”

“Then you should try it.”

She cocked her head, her eyes sparkling with mischief. “Which stone is this?”

Nolan shrugged. “Don’t know. Hold it in the light to find out.”

She clicked her mouth, drew the reins, and trotted to a sunny patch. She held out the stone, and the symbol of Empathy splayed on the ground.

Nolan held back a groan. Empathy. Great. Now he’d have to guard his emotions—not that he needed to hide much; he displayed his disgust of her freely.

“And this one iiiiis … ?” she asked, dragging out the “i” sound, waiting for Nolan to complete her sentence.

Nolan sighed. “It’s Empathy.”

“Which allows me to do what?”

“Read people’s emotions. You will know if they are happy or sad, or anything else they are feeling.”

“Oh! That sounds fun!”

Nolan shook his head. It was probably the worst power, in Nolan’s opinion, for her. She already manipulated everyone she encountered.

“So how does it work?” She ran her hand under the beam of light and flinched when the light touched her.

“You need it higher, so you can submerge your body in the light; otherwise, it won’t work.”

She led her horse, circling the clearing. Occasionally, she would stop and examine a tree, then continue on. Nolan pried his eyes from Jezebelle and found Rikar. He stared at Nolan, his face in shock.

Finally, Jezebelle swung from her horse and called out to a nearby gypsy. A boy, around the age of twelve, jogged toward her. She handed him the stone and pointed up, speaking to him quietly.

The boy took off toward the tree, climbing it at an impressive speed. He shimmied down a branch and jammed the stone in a v-shaped notch.

The circle of Empathy flickered to life on the ground, larger than Nolan had ever seen it before. The branch reached higher than the ceilings of the temple, or even the warehouse in Renfrew. Maybe it was too high and wouldn’t work right at all … Nolan hoped.

Jezebelle turned toward Nolan, flashing him a brilliant smile; her white teeth contrasted to the dark hues of her skin. Then she stepped under the light. All the gypsies gathered around her, watching the spectacle. Almost immediately, the violet pinpoints of light swirled around her.

Chapter Twenty-One

A DAY OF TRAVEL turned into a day of chaos. After Jezebelle took the light, all the other gypsies did the same. People writhed on the ground as they came into Strength. Others vomited, overwhelmed with Perception. The entire camp came to a grinding halt, while Nolan sat forgotten behind his bars.

Even Morna, the four-armed woman, took the light. Her cage remained empty as she sat next to a tree, rocking while she wrapped arms around her head.

What had he done? Brim told him to spread the light, but he’d assumed he’d do it for normal people. A camp full of Shay-empowered gypsies didn’t seem right. It was almost as if he’d perpetuated a small army of depraved Rol’dan.

He glanced over at Rikar, whose strength continued to improve. He now stood, pacing the small confines of his cage.

As each person took the light, Nolan stared longingly, wishing he could do the same. He licked his cracked lips, realizing he hadn’t eaten or drunk anything since the morning. The creatures in some of the other cages fidgeted, their growls increasing as the day dragged on. They were probably hungry as well.

“How about some dinner?” Nolan finally yelled out.

“Shut your nightforsaken mouth, freak,” a man answered, followed by a rude gesture.

Nolan grumbled, his stomach echoing him. At this rate, he might not eat for days.

Time passed, and the moans from the gypsies lessened. Nolan sat, his throat dry and parched. And when night fell, the gypsies didn’t even bother lighting a fire, making the forest darker than usual. Rikar’s light was the only thing to shine.

The Guardian opened his cage and maneuvered through the gypsies splayed around the camp. Finally, Nolan could see the Guardian make his way toward him. He slid a water skin between the bars.

Nolan grabbed it, popped open the closure, and threw his head back, drinking deep gulps until he’d had his fill. He sighed and met the Guardian’s light-filled eyes. “Thank you, friend.”

Rikar smiled. “Glad I can help, Master Nolan.”

He handed Nolan a loaf of bread next. The crust had hardened, probably left over from the day before. Nolan tore into it, breaking the thick brown coating and swallowing it in huge chunks.

“I’ll be back shortly.” Rikar flared his Speed and disappeared.

Darkness enveloped the camp with his departure, but Nolan sat more comfortably—now that his stomach didn’t gnaw from hunger. After several minutes, the Guardian appeared again, pausing at the other cages, pouring water into buckets and giving them the food they so desperately needed. It if weren’t for Rikar, the dumb gypsies might lose their entire sideshow. Not that Nolan cared, but it wasn’t the creatures’ fault.

Finally, Rikar appeared again, handing Nolan a package wrapped in cloth. Nolan unfolded it, and the fragrance of warm, roasted meat greeted him. He groaned. “Where’d you get this?”

“Town is not far away.”

Nolan dug into it, slowly this time, chewing and savoring the juicy meat. It was good. Really good. Rikar watched him with a pleased expression. Guardians were strange creatures; they cared more about serving man than even their own lives.

“Did you eat anything?” Nolan asked.

“I did.”

Nolan nodded, satisfied the Guardian had the sense to take care of himself. “So why are you here?” Nolan asked between bites. “Why don’t you leave?”

Rikar didn’t answer. Instead, he examined his finger, the one he’d been using to save Nolan, his expression contemplative. “Where are you from, Master Nolan?”

Nolan took another bite, chewing. So he wanted to avoid the question. “I grew up in Galva.”

“The fishing village?”

“Yes. Have you been there?”

“I have been everywhere.”

Nolan took another bite. “My father and uncle own a fishing business. I spent more time on the boat than on land.”

He remembered Kael and the time they’d spent on the boat. He missed those days. At least he was building a relationship with his brother again.

“And your mother?” Rikar asked.

“I never knew her. She died when I was born.”

Rikar nodded, his brow furrowing. “I am sorry for your loss.”

Nolan hadn’t known his mother. Kael had talked about her, missed her a lot, but Nolan had never had the chance.

“So your surname is … ?”

“Trividar,” Nolan answered.

“And your parents’ names?”

“Belen is my father’s. My mother was Frann.” His questions were odd. Why did the Guardian want to know?

Rikar stared at him, more intently than he’d ever done before. His light-filled eyes searched Nolan’s face, examining him.

“Rikar, what’s wrong?”

Rikar pulled his gaze to the ground. “How old are you, Nolan?”

“Seventeen … almost eighteen.” He huffed. Irritating Guardian. He avoided all questions by adding his own.

Rikar inhaled, releasing a prolonged sigh. “You asked me why I stay.”

Nolan shoved the last of his meat into his mouth and chewed, waiting.

“I stay because I have done things.”

“What kind of things?”

“Dangerous things,” Rikar said slowly. “Locking me behind bars is best.”

Dangerous? No. He was a perfect Guardian. Kind. Sacrificial to a fault. If it weren’t for Rikar, he’d be dead!

“How dangerous could you be?” Nolan asked. “You’ve never killed.”

“How would you know if I have killed?”

Nolan scraped some blood-coated straw from the floor of his cage, flinging it outside the bars to the ground. “Brim would’ve taken your powers if you’d killed.”

“You know much about our laws and ways.”

Nolan shrugged. “Greer told me what happened to Alcandor.”

“And what makes you believe I am not like him?”

“I’ve met Alcandor. You are nothing like him.”

“I have not killed, Master Nolan—at least not directly. But because of me, many died. And if I were to leave here, away from the shelter of my cage, I would most assuredly do it again.”

Nolan’s mouth dropped open, and Rikar turned, retreating back to his cage. Nolan stared at him, alone in his stunned silence. What in Brim’s name was he talking about? He caused deaths, but didn’t kill? It make little sense. Instead of gaining answers, Nolan was more confused. What had Rikar done to think he deserved to be treated like a beast?

Rikar climbed into his cage and turned his back on Nolan, his large hands grabbing the sides of his head. Something tormented the Guardian, and Nolan would find out what that was. He would help him regain his self-respect and get the honor he well deserved.

***

Morning came, and with it, the gypsies stirred. A few moved around the camp, seeming to realize they had other responsibilities. Without much heart, they gave water to their creatures, tossing scraps of food into the cages. A man approached Nolan, tossing a plate at him before backing away. He coughed, covering his mouth and nose as if Nolan was the most revolting thing in his life.

Nolan grunted.
Try staying locked in a cage for a week and see how good you smell.

Nolan ate, even though he wasn’t hungry. Best not to let them know Rikar had already fed him. As he sat and pondered more on the Guardian’s words, an Empathy Shay touched his mind. He raised his head and found Jezebelle standing next to his cage; the violet light of Empathy blazed from her eyes. Her Shay was strong.

“You are thoughtful this morning, Emissary,” she said.

Nolan put down his plate. “I’m always thoughtful.”

She circled his cage, ramming her Empathy into his mind.

He glared at her, giving her a full dose of his opinion.

She blinked, seeming surprised. Then her anger flared. “I don’t care what you think of me.”

A slow smile formed on his face.
“Oh, yes. You do.”

She jerked back, obviously not expecting the voice in her head. She opened her mouth to speak, snapped it closed, turned, and stomped away.

Nolan tore off a hunk of bread, smug satisfaction surging in his chest.

“Is it best to antagonize her?”
Rikar’s voice said.