Blood of the Guardian (7 page)

Ekon’s eyes narrowed. “It depends on one’s definition of a man.” Then, suddenly, Ekon clenched his hand into a fist and punched himself in the face. He cursed and held his nose, which bled.

Emery glared, the violet light of Empathy flaring in his eyes. “I’d hit you myself, Captain, but your hand is more effective than mine.”

Captain Ekon’s red face came up and locked on Megan. “So you’re taking the word of a girl?”

Megan hugged Emery’s cloak to her shoulders while Ekon’s eyes traveled over her. A small sneer turned up the side of his lip.

“Captain,” Emery said, his eyes cold. “I’m warning you to control your thoughts.”

“Thoughts cause no harm.”

“I know you well enough, Captain. Your thoughts usually precede action. I have been lenient so far, because I need your experience with the men. But, if you continue thinking such rude things, and if you keep hurting your fellow soldiers, I’ll have no choice but to remove you from the Rol’dan.”

Ekon’s smile flattened. “What are we supposed to do when you stick Talaswine in our ranks?” A glazed expression fell over his face; he reared back and punched himself again. He lunged toward Emery, cursing.

Both Kael and Nolan appeared between them.

Ekon stumbled back, his face a mask of rage. “And what about the Talasi? If they march on us, where will your loyalties be?”

“My loyalties will be with Adamah,” Emery said. “As are Maska’s loyalties to me. If you wrong Maska, you wrong me.”

Emery motioned to Kael. “General, please escort Captain Ekon to the dungeon. Perhaps a night sleeping in a cell will help him think more clearly.”

Rage pulsed from Captain Ekon, along with a touch of fear. He stood straight, his hands clenched into fists.

“Don’t worry, Captain,” Emery said. “I won’t place you anywhere near Alcandor.” He paused. “That is, unless you resist.”

“Come on,” Kael urged, giving the brawny Rol’dan a shove. Ekon obeyed, his hard footsteps and muttered profanity echoing as he exited the room.

As soon as they left, Nolan spoke. “You can’t trust him.”

Emery sighed. “I know.”

“Then why keep him?”

He cast Nolan a tired look. “The balance of the Rol’dan hangs by a thread. Alcandor was overthrown only three months ago. I need the least amount of change possible. And now there are those rumors of Talasian sightings.”

“But they’re only rumors,” Megan said. “You know how people talk.”

“They’re not rumors,” Nolan said.

Silence followed.

Emery’s mouth opened slightly before he spoke. “Nolan?”

“Last night, a group of Talasian ships pulled into the shores of Renfrew,” Nolan said. “They’ve heard of you, Emery. Not sure how word reached across the sea, but it has. The king said he had something for you, an offering to unite our two lands.”

“The king of Talasi, eh?” Emery released a sigh and relaxed his shoulders. “A peacekeeping mission. That’s good news, at least. Do you sense honesty in his offer?”

“I do,” Nolan answered. “I sent Alec and Greer on their boat to watch over them until they arrive. They’re coming here, by sea.”

“You sent the boy?” Kael asked, reappearing with his Speed.

“That was quick,” Megan said.

One side of Kael’s mouth pulled up. “Obviously.”

“Alec killed you, brother,” Nolan said. “I’m sure he can take care of a few Talasians.”

Kael forced a laugh. “Who said I worried about Alec? I’m concerned about him starting a war.”

“I’d be more nervous about your armies maiming each other.”

“Nolan’s right, General,” Emery said. “We need to keep better order, somehow. I’d hate to see what would happen if Talasi attacked and our army was too busy fighting one another.”

“Too late for that,” Megan said.

Emery cringed. “I need to keep Maska away from the others. He must stay here in the castle.”

“Maska will object,” Kael said. “He doesn’t like being singled out as a king’s favorite.”

“Maybe the fact he almost died this time will convince him of the necessity.”

“Getting rid of Ekon might help,” Megan suggested.

“Some,” Emery said. “But not completely. The hatred of Talasi runs much deeper than Ekon. The man knows his soldiers, and they follow him. Besides, I’m not sure I want him roaming around the countryside causing trouble. Best to keep him where I can watch over his disobedience.”

“And if he leads them to revolt?” Megan asked.

Emery dragged a hand over his beard. Dark circles shadowed his eyes, and scowl lines trailed across his forehead. He seemed older in the three months since he’d taken the crown. He grabbed one of Megan’s hands in both of his. “Don’t worry, Megan. I’ll keep an eye on Captain Ekon.”

Megan’s eyes searched Emery, as if trying to read him. She pressed her lips together and nodded.

Emery smiled. “Now please, get some rest.”

“Emery, it’s still daylight.”

“And you’ve had little success during the night. You need sleep.”

She frowned. From her defiant thoughts, Nolan knew she wouldn’t sleep anytime soon. She nodded, as if agreeing, and then she handed Emery his cloak before turning toward the doors. She took two steps and paused. “It’s good to have you back, Nolan.”

Nolan watched her as she left. She looked so exhausted, so frail. Then he remembered why Emery had sent Alec to fetch him—because of Megan.

“How long has she been like this?” Nolan asked.

“Too long.” Emery ran his hand over the cloak in his hands. “She wakes and screams in the middle of the night. No matter what I’ve tried, it only gives her a brief respite. I can’t get it under control.”

Before Nolan could press the subject further, the large doors to the throne room opened, and Kat strode in. She’d changed into a clean Rol’dan uniform—tight-fitting leather breeches, a black leather jerkin buttoned across her chest. Her knee-high boots clicked across the stone floor as she pulled down the edge of her jerkin. The gold fabric of her tunic and cape signified her as a Speed Rol’dan. She scanned Nolan once before she bowed to her king.

“Your Majesty,” she said. “Maska is resting. I took the liberty of ordering him a meal, as well as a hot bath. He wishes to speak to you, my lord.”

“I’ll be there shortly,” Emery said.

Kat bowed again. “Of course.”

As Kat left, Nolan tried not to notice how her clothes clung to her long legs. She wore the traditional men’s uniform. She said it was easier to fight in; a dress would get in her way. Nolan rather liked her in it, even if some might think it improper. But she never cared what people thought.

“Let’s see to Maska,” Emery said, a weak smile on his face. “After that, you can tell me more about this Talasian king.”

Nolan followed Emery from the throne room. They turned at the first corridor, one painted a bright gold, and continued toward a flight of stairs. The wide steps were too big to be practical. Alcandor had built this castle. Everything was made for his large ego.

A pair of soldiers—the same ones who had been ordered to take Maska—came around the corner, talking and laughing. The sight of their king and Nolan stopped them cold, and blood drained from their faces.

They snapped to attention as fear washed over them.

“As you were, soldiers,” Emery said as he passed.

The men continued standing as if someone had shoved a steel rod up their backsides. Only when Nolan and Emery were out of sight could Nolan hear their muttered whispers as they descended the stairs.

“So is it me or you?” Nolan asked.

Emery chuckled. “You, of course. They’re not afraid of me.”

“Surely—”

“Don’t get me wrong. A good number respect me. But considering the tyrant who led them before, I am a much-desired relief. You, on the other hand, single-handedly defeated their king. That’s someone to fear.” He motioned to Nolan’s right. “This way.”

They progressed down a hall adorned in bright orange paint. Everything in Adamah was color-coded, even the streets in the towns, to honor the six Shay powers. A series of rooms stretched the length of the hall, most with closed doors. Nolan wondered why the rooms were built, as Alcandor probably never had guests. He glanced inside one of the open doors into an empty bedroom. Ahead, two guards stood in front of a closed door.

“Megan is there.” Emery pointed farther down the hallway. “My room’s at the end.”

“You’re not staying in the king’s chamber?”

Emery’s posture stiffened, and a flood of apprehension surged from him. He pursed his lips before speaking. “Obviously not.”

Of course Emery wouldn’t want to stay in Alcandor’s quarters. Even if convenient—being right off the throne room—it probably held too many bad memories. Emery had shared with him a little bit of those dark days when he served as the king’s general. Alcandor bent the minds of his Rol’dan to do his will. And Emery’s will had been bent to the continual lusts of the king.

Another room had a smattering of guards and servants. A maid hurried out with a scowl on her face.

“I said I don’t want to bathe,” a voice said from inside.

A second servant scuttled out, holding a pail.

“And this would be Maska’s room,” Emery said, smiling. He put a hand on Nolan’s chest, stopping him. His smile faded. “I must warn you. He’s changed since you’ve gone.”

“How so?” Nolan asked.

His answer came in the form of a silver tray as it zinged out the door and embedded into the stone wall. A third servant squealed and ran out as a flurry of Talasian curses erupted from inside.

Nolan blinked in astonishment. For years, Maska had hidden his emotions. It was part of his Talasian culture. But ever since Alcandor had captured him and Emery, Maska had changed.

“He’s gotten worse,” Nolan said.

Emery nodded. “Aye. Every day I see more of the turmoil raging inside him.”

Another crash sounded inside the room.

“Is it safe to go in?” Nolan asked.

Emery chuckled. “We’ll be fine. Thank Brim he only takes it out on objects.”

Maska faced away from them when they entered. He held an iron lantern stand, twisting and bending it into a small knot. He wore only leather breeches—no shirt, no shoes—similar to his native culture. His raven hair had, at one time, been long, but it was now cropped to his head like other Rol’dan.

He turned, his eyes flaming with the light of Strength. With his savage expression, red eyes, and the bent metal in his hand, he was frightening, indeed.

His expression softened when he saw them. He scowled, lowering the mangled bar to his side. “I thought you were another servant.”

“Servants I sent to you,” Emery said. “Please quit scaring them, Maska. They’re only trying to help.”

“Yes, of course. I didn’t think clearly. It’s inexcusable to lose my temper.” He shifted his gaze and fixed on Nolan, examining his face and blood-soaked clothing before finally meeting his eyes. “Thank you.”

Nolan smiled. “It’s what friends are for.”

The clang of swords echoed from the window, where the practice field rested below. Nolan could hear Kael’s sharp voice keeping the rabble under control.

Maska lowered his head. “Forgive me, Your Majesty. I won’t let it happen again.”

“For Brim’s sake, Maska. Call me Emery. We’ve been friends too long for that sort of thing.”

“As you wish, Your Maj … ” Maska cringed. “Emery. But my relationship with the other Rol’dan is already stretched thin. Speaking to you so informally will only exacerbate the situation.”

“Which brings up a very important point,” Emery said. “From this moment on, you are no longer a Rol’dan. I’m officially releasing you from duty.”

Maska opened his mouth to object, but Emery stopped him with a raised hand.

“Don’t worry,” he said. “It has nothing to do with the fight.”

Maska frowned, something he’d never done just three months ago. “You’re lying, Emery.”

Emery shrugged. “So it may have a little to do with the fight. They almost killed you. You’re still struggling with controlling your emotions. It’d be best, for all concerned, if you kept away from them for a while.”

“But—”

Emery shushed him. “But that’s not the only reason I’m releasing you. I need you for something else.”

Maska’s brow furrowed. “Such as?”

“I need you to translate for me.”

“Translate what?”

Nolan told him of the tattooed king and the approaching Talasians.

Maska’s expression went blank. He set the twisted metal bar on a table, shock and fear in his emotions. “Which leader?”

“A King Kamaman, or Kamason or … ”

“Kamalin,” Maska added.

“Yes. King Kamalin.”

Maska’s face whitened from his typical olive hue. Maska had been banished from his land. Perhaps King Kamalin was responsible?

“No,” Maska said finally, “I will not translate.”

“Maska,” Emery said, “whatever grievances you may have with your people will have to be pushed aside for now.”