Warrior's Valor (13 page)

“Easy now. I've got you.”

As they slid down on the opposite side, she found herself pressed against Emeron's chest. They stood together as Dwyn got her bearings, her heart hammering again, this time because of how Emeron felt against her. Confused, and more intimidated than she cared to admit, she realized Emeron was moving her hand in tiny circles at the small of her back. Her normally stark expression had softened, and her mouth was relaxed with slightly parted lips.

“I'm fine,” Dwyn croaked. “We…eh, we should go?”

Emeron let go of her as quickly as if she'd burned her hands. “Of course.” She cleared her voice, her dark eyes shuttering her emotions. “Let's hurry, people. We've still got a job to do.”

Dwyn gathered the last of her energy, knowing that the Disians were much worse off than she was right now. She tried not to think about the way her body had responded to Emeron. It had been so much more than a physical reaction. For a moment, she had looked into Emeron's eyes and experienced something entirely new.

Dahlia coughed. Her lungs stung, and she knew she had suffered smoke-inhalation damage. She wasn't the most injured, though. Several of the gang of mercenaries had died on impact. Only the fact that she was kept locked in tiny quarters in the center of the ship's belly had prevented her from being seriously burned.

The forest was thick around them as she, M'Ekar, and the sixteen mercenaries struggled through the undergrowth. There had probably been a path here once, but it was overgrown with vines and tall grass, slowing them down.

M'Ekar had complained from the beginning, insisting they follow one of the wider paths leading out of the village they'd left behind more than a day ago. The leader, unscathed and quite impressive, hadn't paid much attention to the former dignitary's whining. Dahlia had tried to listen for names or anything that might define this group and reveal their plans.

“Halt,” the female leader suddenly barked. “Our fearless ambassador needs more painkillers. “Ms. White. Bring the med kit.”

“We can't waste all of them on him, Captain.” White moved with such silent grace that Dahlia couldn't hear the rustle of the undergrowth as she neared the makeshift stretcher bearing M'Ekar. “He's slowing us down.”

“He's also the reason we're getting paid.” The leader nodded toward Dahlia. “So is she. All we have to do is get to a clearing big enough for the
Viper
II to land, and we'll be on our way.”

“I still say we leave him behind and give them her.” The blond woman dug around in the black bag containing the medication. She haphazardly gave M'Ekar a shot of something and the tall, rigid body of Dahlia's enemy slowly relaxed.

“I may be wounded, but I'm not dead,” M'Ekar said. “If you don't deliver me to the ship waiting for me by the Onotharian border, you won't get any reward whatsoever.”

“Enough bickering,” the leader said, and motioned for everyone to get to their feet. “Time to continue. This forest is protected from interference from the outside world. But for her sake,” she pointed at Dahlia, “I'm sure they're prepared to make an exception.”

“We've been on our feet all day,” White groused. “I say we make camp.”

“We will. After we put more distance between that village and our position.”

“You're being overcautious.” White grimaced, but took up the rear as the man in charge of guarding Dahlia nudged her. “Move.”

Dahlia counted the remaining ambulatory mercenaries again. Sixteen. They carried two on stretchers, M'Ekar and a young woman who hadn't spoken or shifted once since they hurried through the village. Two men limped between their shipmates, hanging onto them as they became increasingly pale.

“All right,” she muttered to her guard and rose. Her right hip ached, as if it had been pulled out of its socket and shoved back in again.
Guess I'm not seventeen anymore
. Settling in behind the man carrying the foot of M'Ekar's stretcher, she continued to do what she'd done ever since they left the Disian village. She stealthily broke a twig here and there, when she was sure her guard wasn't paying attention. She let tiny pieces of her Iminestrian
ymlertite
bracelet fall to the ground. If anyone scanned the area, the non-indigenous material would make their sensors scream.

“You. You look annoyingly intact,
Madame
.” M'Ekar's scornful voice broke her out of her reverie.

“Justice comes in many ways. You should try to learn from that fact.” She saw with satisfaction that M'Ekar's blood pressure rose, indicated by his color change from an olive tint to a dark purple.

“Bitch,” he managed, and tried to rise, causing the men carrying his stretcher to nearly buckle under their burden. “You self-righteous—”

“Lie still, Ambassador,” the mercenary leader hissed, and strode up to him. “If you want to survive this, you shouldn't let her goad you.”

M'Ekar coughed and slumped back. “Weiss, you better put her in shackles. She's planning something. Don't take your eyes off her.”

“I won't. What do you think I am? A novice? And if I put her in shackles, she'd only slow us down more.”

“Weiss? So that's your name?” Dahlia hid the bracelet in her hand. “We haven't been formally introduced.”

Weiss looked at her with an expression of reluctant admiration and exasperation. “The idea of such silliness didn't even occur to me.”

“No, I would imagine that niceties like that are redundant when you deal in murder and kidnapping.” Dahlia fought to remain calm. “I wonder how you sleep at night after firing against innocent children.”

“Innocent? Are you talking about that wildcat at the Keliera station? It took some effort to calm her down.”

“What do you mean?”

“Oh, I guess you couldn't see when my friend back there, Ms. White, took a shot at her. She was furious to have a kid defeat her. Nobody ever beats her at hand-to-hand combat.”

Dahlia nearly stumbled, but managed to conceal her reaction. “No, I didn't realize Ayahliss was hit.” She swallowed hard. “So, you actually do shoot children.”

“Personally, it's not my method of operation, but White…well, White is another matter. She's a special sort. Handy in a pinch.” Weiss shoved Dahlia's side. “Keep walking.”

“Don't touch me.” Dahlia spoke quietly, furious at the other woman's callousness.

“Or what?” Weiss asked, feigning horror. “Should I be scared now?”

“Yes. If you're half as clever as you think you are, you ought to be. If you don't harm me, or even touch me, you may live through this. People are already looking for me, whose dedication you cannot even begin to fathom.”

“Oh, you have no idea what kind of people I've been up against.” Weiss smiled, but her lips looked stiff.

“No, perhaps not. But you haven't come across anyone like Kellen O'Dal, Protector of the Realm. Nor her wife, who happens to be my daughter. Or my husband. Any of them is formidable and together...” She paused to emphasize her threat.

“You're good. A good diplomat who knows how to use words.” Weiss shrugged. “That's all they are. Words. Whoever may or may not come after you will be too late. If you don't think I have backup plans, several, you're completely mistaken.”

“Oh, I do.” Dahlia smiled easily. “But, just so you know, such plans are futile.” She could tell that her persistence was wearing on Weiss, even if she was acting casual and confident.

“Shut up.” White hurried up to Dahlia and pressed a laser-knife against her neck. It vibrated lethally, and she could tell from the stinging sensation that it had broken her skin.

“That wasn't very clever.” She kept walking, not even looking at White, the knife edge chafing her more with every step. She spoke in her infamous blistering tone, using every bit of her courage to sound menacing. “You're assaulting a civil servant of the SC with a deadly weapon—again. You're as good as dead, Ms. White. As good as dead.”

*

Emeron stood in the doorway to the Hall of Worship and took in the situation inside. People spoke in hushed voices as they wrapped wounds, comforted small children, or prayed with the ones who wouldn't survive. Flashbacks of her childhood, of having been in this exact structure with one of her mothers and her grandmother, made her press her tongue firmly to the roof of her mouth to keep from crying.

“She seems to be in her natural element, doesn't she?” Mogghy said from behind her, making Emeron snap her head around.

“What are you talking about?”

“Dwyn. Look.” Mogghy pointed to the left.

She couldn't see Dwyn at first, merely heads bowed in worship around a set of cots. Only when she moved farther to the left did she discern a curtain of white-blond hair glimmering in the dim light. Dwyn knelt next to one of the cots, holding a young female as a Disian woman held a sculptural array of crystals above the injured person and murmured inaudible words.
A healer
. Emeron knew the Disians honored and revered their healers. She regarded them with dismay.

Dwyn raised her head and gazed up at the crystals. Her eyes were darker than usual, her pupils dilated in the poor light, and the crystals reflected in them. Her delicate features seemed even more ethereal than normal, and with her hair fallen out of its usual chignon she looked like one of the forest creatures Emeron's grandmother Briijn had told her stories about.

“And they come out only at dusk, child. During the day they hide behind trees and bushes, and under shrubs, but when the sun begins to set, and everything is golden from its last rays, the elfins come out. They are the most beautiful little creatures. Blond hair and white skin, dressed in leaves and spiderwebs. If they let you see them, you fall instantly in love with them because they are so precious. Nobody who has seen a real elfin has been able to remain indifferent. They demand you love them, merely by being so wonderful. And you do, child. You have no choice, so you do.”

Emeron gasped at Briijn's voice, so clear inside her head. Half expecting the long-gone most beloved member of her family to be there, she walked over to Dwyn and stood behind her, prepared to say something scathing about the Disian methods of healing, something she'd once regarded with childlike awe. She opened her mouth to speak, but at that moment Dwyn stared up at her with tear-filled eyes. “Isn't it wonderful? Look.”

There it was, the elfin beauty Briijn had spoken about. The rays of the setting sun played with the prisms in the crystals, casting a glow over Dwyn's pale face. The tears clinging to her long blond eyelashes looked like tiny perfect diamonds, and the glitter that shimmered in her eyes took Emeron's breath away.

“Look, Emeron. Look.” Dwyn turned her head toward the Disian healer. The crystals spun now within her hands and seemed to defy gravity. The young woman on the cot was trembling. Fine tremors reverberated through her, and not sure why, Emeron knelt next to Dwyn, telling herself she was about to pull Dwyn away from this quackery.

Instead, Dwyn took her hand and placed it on the patient's thigh. “Feel.”

The small tremors resembled the ones she experienced when she was cold to the bone. She didn't expect anything more, but after a few moments, she sensed something else—an underlying rhythm, like a distant drum beating to a different pace. The healer didn't say a word now, merely moved her hands in small circles, making the crystals dance between her hands.

Suddenly the young person drew a deep breath and opened her eyes. She sat up, or tried to, and a woman who had crouched by her other side pulled her into an embrace. “
Yhja. Megos dansa
.”

“What does that mean?” Dwyn asked, her voice only a breath.

“My daughter. Her name is Yhja.” Emeron was shocked to hear that her voice was just as breathless. “What is…was wrong with her?”

“She had been thrown from the crash site almost to the center. She lived in the house directly where the ship landed. It's a miracle she's alive to begin with.”

“Who told you this?”

“Amiri.” Dwyn glanced around her. “I don't know where she went. I suppose search parties are still out there working.”

“Yes. Oches and Noor are heading up our unit. Mogghy and I came to appraise the situation here. You weren't supposed to wander off on your own, you know.”

“But I was safe here. Besides, I had to do something. I couldn't simply ignore all these injured people.” Dwyn shrugged. “I'm not used to having my own bodyguard. I'm used to complete independence.”

Emeron was still dazed from the experience with the healer and not ready to deal with the multitude of questions that welled up inside her. She had absolutely no time for old, painful memories right now. “And now Yhja is all healed. A miracle,” she said, unwilling to let go of the sarcasm in her voice.

“Yes.” Dwyn challenged Emeron with her eyes. “She suffered from a serious concussion and inner bleedings. Her skin was blotched, her respiration shallow and fast, and both shoulders were dislocated. The healer set her joints first, the softest maneuver I've ever seen, and trust me, I've seen that done several times. Twice on myself. And look at her now.” Dwyn gazed at Yhja with eyes that welled with new tears.