Soulblade: An Epic Fantasy Adventure Romance (A Dance of Fire and Shadow Book 4)
Soulblade: Chapter 2

JANTIAN WALKS OUT OF the tall arch of the cave entrance and crosses the courtyard, his fierce grey eyes turning a warning glare in my direction as if he knows what I am about to say.

“Ariel, we can discuss what has passed later, after we have dealt with the current emergency. They will be bringing in the wounded any minute now.”

He disappears into the tunnel leading to the approach-trail to the rock pinnacle. All thoughts of challenging Jantian temporarily disappear. This might be my last chance to snatch a precious few minutes with Marin before new orders disrupt everything again. I hurry into the great dome of the glittering crystal-lined training cave at the heart of Maratic.

Marin is sitting by the stone bench on the far side, his face lit in shades of flickering red-gold from the torches on the walls. To my relief, the black hair and beard of his disguise as King Tieran has gone and his hair is back to its natural tangle of soft brown curls. If only the memories those few terrible days could be erased as easily as the disguise. A bloody battle, followed by the savage penalties inflicted on him after the confrontation with his father. I run across to him, noticing how the fine contours of his face are drawn with exhaustion and tension and it tears at my heart.

He looks up. “Ariel, I can sense how angry you are about all this, and it isn’t helping.”

I reach out to clasp his hand and feel the dragonfire in him, sparking against my own. I pull back in shock from the crackling sting of ice-lightning as it dances between us. All through my own struggles with this, I have been able to turn to Marin when I needed his love and calm control to pacify the wild power inside me. Now he needs me to get him through the same thing––and I don’t have anything to give. My own feelings of inadequacy only serve to feed my anger at Jantian. Whatever Marin’s conversation with his commander was about, it surely hasn’t helped him come to terms with what has happened.

“Just stay with it for a while, Marin. I’ve been talking to Deris and we will think of a way to get through this somehow. When I’ve given Jantian a piece of my mind about how he handled the whole thing––as if we’re no more than carved pieces for him to move around on his personal Tican board!”

Marin’s shoulders slump wearily. “You really think there is any way out of this? That we can ever be seen as anything but criminals, traitors, a collective deadly threat to the future of Samaran?”

I have never seen him like this before. He has seldom talked much about the time when he exchanged the privileges and luxury of the royal palace for the hard life of a soldier, but when he does speak of it there has never been any hint of regret for what he chose to abandon. Jantian’s training, the loyalty and trust of his close friends, his sense of purpose in protecting his country and the King, has always felt more valuable to him than the wealth and adulation afforded to royalty.

And now all those things that meant so much to him have been taken away, leaving him with nothing but the brand of a traitor.

No. Not everything has been stolen from him.

“Marin, you’re not on your own with this. Don’t think for a minute your friends will abandon you because of what happened. And if Jantian wants us to go and deal with some new problem in the murky depths of Rapathia, I’m going to make sure he steps up and does a lot more to fix the damage he has already caused.”

Marin doesn’t answer, simply reaching out and gripping my hand, just as I have done so often with him when I needed reassurance. It feels like a new level of responsibility that I’m fearful I won’t be able to live up to. I glance round as a shadow falls across the moonlit arch of the cave entrance.

Brac walks in, carrying Nem. He kneels to lay her on the ground and looks up anxiously at me.

“She was mending well, and then t’ fever took her.”

I sink to my knees beside the half-conscious Annubian, her fierce vitality now suppressed by the raging fever beading her face with sweat. I haven’t seen her since she was wounded in the fight for Samaran’s freedom. All I could do then was to push her onto my horse to get her out of the battle. I reach out to touch the festering gash in her shoulder but her dark eyes suddenly snap wide open as her hand grabs my wrist.

“No! Ariel, I don’t want…”

I try to carefully peel her fingers off me.

“Nem, I know what you’re thinking, but nothing bad is going to happen. Just ask Brac. It has been weeks now since I healed him after the battle in the Northlands and there has been no sign of Blade adept developing in him.”

Brac leans closer and supports her head.

“She’s right, Nem. Nothing changed in me except that I’m still alive, instead of being dead. You saw yourself how bad that wound was before Ariel healed it. Jantian checked as well, and he says it’s true––now Ariel and Shadow are so closely bound, her healing doesn’t affect people t’ way we fear Marin and Deris would. And we all need you alive and fit for what we have to do next.”

Nem lets out a long sigh and reluctantly releases my wrist. “Fine. Go ahead.”

It doesn’t take long. I lay my hands on the infected wound and watch the feverish flush slowly fade from her face.

“Nem, sleep. You might be lucky and get an hour’s rest while I’m dealing with the other casualties. Then we have to get ourselves alert enough to deal with whatever it is Jantian has in store for us in Rapathia.”

She tries to smile, a flicker of her habitual sharp comments resurfacing already.

“Don’t tell me any more details, please. Even a few days in that overgrown swamp sounds like the worst deployment of my life.”

“None of us know any more than that, so I couldn’t tell you anything even if I tried.” I turn away to count how many more casualties are being carried inside by the teams of Eldrin. They must have brought the most serious cases here directly from the battlefield. There are too many for me to handle without help. I close my eyes and focus.

“Shadow, I’m going to need you with me on this.”

I still don’t fully understand how he seems to hear me, no matter how quietly I speak when making the summons. Reassuring at times like this when I need his help, but it does make me wonder how much of my life he is able to spy on with that damn scrying mirror of his.

A few minutes later Shadow walks in through the entrance, a tall dark shape silhouetted in a swirl of black robes against the pale moonlight outside. He pauses, pushing back his hood and looking around to take in the number of wounded laid out on the floor. Then he walks slowly and deliberately to the central point of the arched space and turns to me with a faint but triumphant smile.

Brac lets out a snort of indignation. “Standing there as if he owns the place…”

“Wait.” I lay a restraining hand on the gruff Northerner’s arm, feeling more tension in the bulky muscles than I expected. “Don’t let Shadow goad you. Bear in mind this was his place until Valara and her knights destroyed his kind and banished him to the wilderness. After waiting so many centuries to return, it’s not surprising if he over-reacts sometimes.”

Brac stares at me, frowning as he pushes blood-matted russet hair from his face. Looks like he has given himself no time to rest since the battle.

“Ariel? Whose side are you on?”

“I don’t think it really is about taking sides. Something Jantian said after replaceing those ancient scrolls in the archives…”

I have to break off this conversation and concentrate on the task in hand. Shadow knows only too well what I need. He doesn’t wait for my request, drawing in Maratic’s power and passing it on to me. I’m guessing he wants to demonstrate that he can do this on his own terms, without anyone making threats to ensure he doesn’t take too much.

Now I need to focus on healing Eldrin casualties from what I fervently hope was our final battle to defeat the Rapathian invaders.