Kyn Series (9 page)

“No shit, Sherlock,” Kalen replied nonchalantly. The ominous color reflecting from Markus’ blade was enough to tell him that. Spelled blades tended to be easy to spot because of it, the dark magic involved usually leaving a visual marker of sorts. And, nearly all spelled weapons were created by dark magic, apart from a few notable exceptions. After all, not many people were willing to volunteer their souls to power the damned things.

Another feint and a flurry of blows were exchanged, each over almost as soon as it had begun. Kalen kept to the defensive, sidestepping the pixie’s attacks where he could, at the same time, conserving his energy as he studied Markus’ technique. The bout was to first blood. Bloody typical for a warden. He’d never heard of one who actually carried or used a blade other than for ceremonial purposes. Despite her warning, if Kalen saw an opening for a killing shot, he would take it. Compassion and chivalry were wonderful ideals, but in combat, it boiled down to one simple truth. The fighter who won was the one willing to be merciless. A couple of hours as an amphibian would be well worth it, to rid the world of Markus.

His defense was ironclad as Markus tested it again.

“It doesn’t kill you, you know. Well, not straight away. It
devours
your soul, and when that’s gone…there’s nothing left but an empty husk, a mindless vegetable. Mind you, how desperate you lot are for kids, they might put up with you dribbling on yourself and use you as some kind of freakish sperm donor,” Markus taunted and grinned as he twirled out of reach of Kalen’s blades. He seemed to be enjoying himself, perhaps assuring himself he’d gotten the measure of his Kyn opponent.

Kalen ignored his insults. Not even indicating he’d heard them. Cocky and arrogant, he knew Markus was just trying to get an edge on him, make him nervous about the spelled blade he swung in glittering arcs. Nervous enough to make a mistake? That would never happen. Kalen was far too long in the tooth to fall for amateur tricks like that.

“It took the last guy nearly twelve hours to die, you know?” Markus continued with glee, not noticing as Kalen subtly shifted the flow of the pacing. So, instead of Markus pacing after him, he stalked the pixie. “He cried for his mommy near the end. Got so irritating we had to cut his throat. Didn’t kill him, just stopped the damn noise.”

“Is that so?” Kalen asked disinterestedly. Up until now he’d been defending, letting Markus test his reactions. He’d given several false tells, favoring his left knee slightly as if shielding an old wound. Something he was sure the pixie would try to capitalize on later, expecting it to be weak, only to find it wasn’t.

Finally, considering he’d seen enough of his opponent’s technique—he’d definitely
heard
enough from him—Kalen launched his own attack. He moved in an explosion of movement, power bunching in his strong muscles as his twin blades danced through the air. The deadly movement of razor-sharp steel, never stopping, never slowing, took the pixie by surprise, making him gasp and backpedal to the edge of the circle. Markus blanched, as if reading his own death in Kalen’s eyes and blocked as though his life depended on it.

Because it did.

But the fight was already over, Markus just hadn’t realized it. The tines on Kalen’s off-hand blade snarled the pixie’s sword, sliding along the spelled steel and catching. Kalen grinned as he forced the other man’s hand down, leaving Markus wide open. Defenseless. The Kyn warrior moved like lightening, bunching his fist around the hilt of his sword. Still holding the blade, he rolled his body and twisted at the waist to deliver a powerful uppercut. The heavy blow smashed into Markus’ jaw, clipped his nose and made him stagger backward. Kalen stepped back, a satisfied smirk on his face as he watched blood gush from the pixie’s nose. He hoped it was broken.

“That—I think—you will find, is first blood.”

Relief poured through Vixen as Kalen stepped back, still hyped up from the fight and dancing lightly on his feet as he grinned down at the defeated pixie on the floor. Elation filled her. What a typical move. She’d always known Kalen was unconventional, but who said first blood had to be caused by a blade?

Vixen, still penned in by her bodyguard armed with the second spelled blade, saw the movement as Markus rose to his feet. She couldn’t see his face, but there was something about the way he moved, the set of his shoulders, that set off alarm bells in her head.

Then, everything happened too fast to think again. She was already moving as Markus lunged for his dropped blade. She screamed a warning to Kalen. He turned, but there was no way he could block in time. Barely aware of her actions, she dropped her pixie guard in a lethal explosion of movement and launched herself across the circle, time slowing as she moved, fear lending wings to her heels.

Shock and horror crossed the faces of the Kyn warriors watching on the other side of the circle, their faces contorting as they yelled warnings she couldn’t hear past the thunder in her ears. Kalen was already turning, his blades half out of their sheaths when Vixen hit him from the side. A solid body slam, which threw him off balance and out of harm’s way. All the air left her lungs in a rush as Markus slammed into her, the sword he carried piercing the skin of her belly and sliding deep with a fleshy sound.

Vixen looked down, watching with absent fascination as thick red blood oozed around the edges of the metal buried in her flesh. It didn’t hurt. It should hurt, but it didn’t. There was just an aching numbness spreading outward from the wound. A coldness as the curse on the spelled blade started to devour her soul.

Markus froze, his lavender eyes wide as he looked down at his hand. And the sword in it, following the path of the steel until it disappeared into Vixen’s abdomen. “No,” he breathed, his voice breaking, “it wasn’t supposed to be you, it was supposed to be him.”

“Oh god. Vixen, no.” Kalen’s voice was ragged, a tormented moan dragged from deep within his broad chest. He wrapped his arms around her as she staggered. She sagged against him as her legs buckled at the knees, unable to support her weight. They gave way beneath her. She gasped at the change in position as he lowered them both to the floor. Her hands tightened convulsively around the weapon buried deeply in her stomach as the rest of the Kyn gathered around them.

“Someone grab that son of a bitch pixie,” Marak growled, his eyes filled with a fury that softened into concern as he looked down at her. It was an order most of the Kyn warriors seemed more than happy to follow. Several set off after the fleeing pixie, their expressions grim, as if promising a world of hurt when they caught him.

Vixen grabbed Kalen’s hand. “Please, don’t leave me,” she begged, her voice a whisper as exhaustion hit, scared he’d join the hunt for Markus and she wouldn’t last until he got back. Already, she felt the cold fingers of death clawing at her, leeching the very life, her very soul, from her. She was so cold, so sleepy. If she just shut her eyes for a moment…

Alarmed, Vixen jerked her eyes open. She knew if she closed them and succumbed to the tiredness that washed over her, her life would be over.

“Promise you won’t leave me,” she whispered again, her eyes searching, finding Kalen’s face. It was filled with concern, emotion.
Perhaps even love?
“I don’t have much time. I can feel it spreading already.”

“It’s okay, baby, I’m here. I’m not going anywhere, I promise.” His voice was thick as he held her in his lap and wrapped his arms around her tightly. So tight, under different circumstances, she’d have complained he was hurting her. Now, she barely felt it as her body grew numb. She nodded, reveling in the feeling of being held, closing her eyes for a moment as his hand smoothed her hair gently back from her face.

“Kalen?”

“Yes, honey?”

“I love you.”

She opened her eyes to judge his reaction. Pain crossed his face, an expression gone almost before she’d seen it. She knew her chances weren’t good, but that look confirmed it. Surprisingly, peace stole over her. She’d always known she was going to die, had assumed it would be at the hands of the rogue like so many other warriors. A painful and ignoble death. At least this way it was peaceful, and she got to tell the man she loved that she did, in fact, love him. She could say goodbye. So many warriors didn’t get to, so she felt blessed.

He smiled, lifting her hand to kiss the soft skin of her palm. “Save your strength, love,” he whispered back. “Tell me later when you’re better.”

“Kalen, I’m not going to get better. I’m going to die,” she said bluntly, the two of them locked in their own private world, not paying any attention to the crowd around them. “I just wanted you to know before…” She couldn’t bring herself to say it, just trailed off and looked at him.

“Know what, sweetheart? That you love me?” he asked, his lips curving into that lopsided grin she’d fallen for all those years ago. “Of course you do, what woman wouldn’t?” he joked, his expression dropping serious as he added, “I know, I love you too, sweetheart, always have. Why do you think I was always taking the piss? To get you to notice me, talk to me. That, and you’re gorgeous when you’re mad.”

Vixen chuckled. The movement caused a coughing fit, the spasms robbed her of breath and left her in pain for long moments after it subsided.

“I should have guessed. Only you would piss someone off because you fancied them. But I didn’t mean that.”

“Fancied the pants off actually,” he corrected, “what did you mean?”

She smiled sadly and held out her wrist for him to see. Or rather, so he saw the new mark there that curled lovingly around the delicate skin. He stilled, his eyes widening a little, a stunned expression entering them as he studied the mark in her skin. “That’s a bond mark.”

Her lips quirked, “Way to go, Captain Obvious. It appeared earlier when I realized how I felt about you.”

His arms tightened around her, a low moan in the back of his throat. “Oh hell, Vixen.”

“It’s okay,” she said, trying for soothing but managing tired. She closed her eyes, another wave of exhaustion washing through her and stealing the strength she had left. She couldn’t muster the strength to lift her eyelids again, dropping farther into the blackness that washed up to claim her, her own voice seeming farther and farther away. “It’s better this way. Not good…enough for you.”

*

Kalen felt the instant Vixen’s body relaxed and went slack against his. He was losing her. A moan of anguish escaped him as he clawed her to him and tried to shake her awake, bring her back to him.

“Sweetheart, wake up. Stay with me.” He didn’t care that tears flowed down his cheeks in bloody rivulets. He couldn’t lose her, not now. Not like this.

“Please, you have to do something,” he begged, looking at the one person in the room that might be able to do something. The warden.

Her eyes looked grave as she knelt next to him, her hands already moving, hovering a few inches over Vixen’s fallen form. Her lips moved soundlessly, some sort of incantation as her eyes unfocused. Some sort of incantation…hell, she could have been reciting her damn shopping list for all Kalen cared. As long as it helped Vixen. Hope coiled in his chest as he watched her. He had to have faith. Wardens dealt in magic on a day-to-day basis, worked with it, knew more about it than anyone.

That hope was crushed when she shook her head, opening her eyes to look at him sadly. “I’m sorry,” she said, reaching out to touch his hand. “But it’s already started. The only way to try to stop it would be to offer another soul in place of Vixen’s. But even so, that might not work. It could take both.”

“Try it anyway,” another voice growled, “use his.”

Kalen looked up. Feral and another Kyn frog marched a struggling figure back into the hall, throwing Markus down on the floor in front of them.

“No. You can’t do that,” the pixie argued with terror in his eyes. “That’s cold-blooded murder.”

“What do you call
that
, if not murder?” the warden asked sternly, her voice echoing with the power of her calling as she motioned toward Vixen’s barely breathing form. Before he could answer she shook her head. “Much as I think he deserves it, it
would
be murder and I can’t do that. Not even to save a life. The only way it would work is with a willing soul.”

Feral smiled, a nasty little expression that sent chills up Kalen’s spine as he fingered the blades hooked onto his belt. “Five minutes and I guarantee he’ll be willing,” he promised.

“I’ll do it,” Kalen said quietly, his voice a bare whisper as he leaned down, pressed a gentle kiss into Vixen’s blonde hair.

“I will
not
allow you to torture him. Not while I’m her…”

“What did you just say?” the warden asked, catching the end of Kalen’s sentence, holding her hand up for silence as the room erupted around her, as all the Kyn tried to talk at once.

He looked up as silence fell again, resolve in his eyes. “I’ll do it,” he repeated, his eyes steadfast as they held hers.

“You do realize it’ll kill you?” she asked.

Something in her eyes was as old as time and he knew he spoke to a warden in her full power. Although she was still a young woman, she would be considered a child had she been Kyn, but the power she channeled was ancient. It showed.

He nodded. “I do,” he said firmly, not flinching or looking away as he became the focus of intense interest from everyone in the room. He felt their eyes on him as they waited for the warden to speak again. But it wasn’t the warden who spoke next. Marak beat her too it.

“K, are you sure about this?” he asked, concern and worry coloring the deep timbres of his voice.

Kalen nodded again, looking up to meet his king’s gaze. “I’ve never been more sure about anything in my life,” he said, his voice echoing around the silent hall, conviction ringing in the words. “If she dies, I’ll be ‘Meeting the Rogue.’”

The room stilled. ‘Meeting the Rogue’ was the ritualistic suicide of a warrior with nothing left to lose. If Vixen died, then Kalen would arm up for his last patrol, and spend the night hunting rogue in their lairs until they overcame him. If by some slim chance he survived the night, then he would meet the dawn, seeing his first sunrise at the same moment the sun’s rays killed him. He turned Vixen’s wrist out, displaying the bond mark against her paling skin. Already, she was as cold as the grave.

“I can’t live without her.”

Marak nodded silently, his silver eyes displaying his concern. He didn’t argue Kalen’s decision. Maybe because he had a bond mate himself and lived with the fear of losing such a precious gift. Relief and gratitude filled the tall warrior as he turned his attention to the woman kneeling next to him and Vixen.

“Well, warden, will my soul be acceptable?” he asked, “freely given as it is.”

She shrugged. “We can but hope. All I can do is perform the ritual and then it’s in the hands of the goddess. The decision rests with her.”

Kalen sat quietly, rocking Vixen gently in his arms as the warden made arrangements around them. He whispered sweet nothings to the woman in his arms. Wasn’t hearing the last thing to go when one died? He hoped so, because if this all went south, the last thing he wanted Vixen to hear was his voice telling her all the things he couldn’t when she was alive.

Pain crossed his features. He was already thinking of her as dead. He wasn’t sure either of them would survive this. It wasn’t something he could fight, hit with his fists or a sword and kill, as he’d faced all the problems in his life. Kalen felt lost, unsure of himself…

He opened his eyes, watching as the warden drew a magic circle, her hands swift and sure as she traced the sigils in the air with the ease of long practice. He could just see the edges of them as she activated the circle, a brief flare of magic that faded quickly.

Then she stood over him, smiling softly with a serene expression on her face. “We’re ready for you two now.”

She blinked as Kalen rose to his feet easily, despite the weight of Vixen in his arms. The movement startled a little chuckle out of her. “I always forget how strong you guys are sometimes.” She reached forward, her hands checking Vixen’s vital signs. “We have to move quickly, she’s fading fast. I need the blade removed before you enter the circle.”

Kalen nodded. His first instinct had been to remove the blade, but experience with combat wounds had stopped him. Often a foreign object stuck in a wound plugged the blood loss, at least that’s what he recalled from the first aid lectures the warriors had been given. Most of what they’d been taught was mainly designed to keep someone alive long enough to get them back to the compound. If all else failed, they opened a vein. Shove enough blood down a vampire’s throat and they could pretty much heal anything.

They weren’t taught much about spelled blade injuries. The entire lecture on spelled weaponry had been short and sweet. Something along the lines of, ‘don’t try to be a hero, run the fuck away.’ Kalen hadn’t wanted to remove it for fear of Vixen bleeding out.

“I’m gonna need a little help here,” Kalen admitted, finding Marak already at his side as he gently hefted Vixen’s weight in his arms, tucking her head into his shoulder. “Okay, now,” he murmured, holding her tight as the other warrior’s large hand closed on the hilt of the blade, easing it from Vixen’s stomach. To Kalen’s surprise, it slid out easily, with a fleshy sound that turned his stomach. He paled, feeling green.

“K, you’re not gonna pass out on me, are you?” Marak asked, sounding concerned, handing the blade off to the warden, his other hand already out to steady Kalen.

“Not a chance,” Kalen assured him, tightening his grip as he checked Vixen’s stomach for fresh bleeding. Her Kyn physiology had already reacted to being wounded, slowing her heart rate down until the bleeding was nothing more than a sluggish oozing of blood from the gash in her stomach.

Nodding to the warden, he walked over to where they’d prepared the circle, waiting until she waved him through before stepping forward. Stepping into the magic circle, there was a slight shiver over his skin, as though someone had blown a soft breath over it. Over all of it.