Soulblade: An Epic Fantasy Adventure Romance (A Dance of Fire and Shadow Book 4)
Soulblade: Chapter 25

I BECOME SO IMMERSED in the song and with checking on Marin’s heartbeat under my palm, it is a few moments before I notice that Orlin has returned and is watching me curiously.

“Ariel, do you always disobey orders?”

I try not to look guilty. “With the Eldrin, it’s called using your initiative.”

“An excuse I’m sure you use regularly to break the rules.”

She lays a slender hand on Marin’s forehead and allows herself a faint smile. “I did not hold out much hope for him, but perhaps love is a more powerful healer than even Elf-medicine. I think I can wake him now without killing him with the shock of it.”

She tosses a handful of dry herbs on the fire and the sharp, peppery sting of it jolts me into alertness. I feel Marin tense and I lean close to whisper in his ear.

“Marin! Wake up! The healer is ready to draw out the wraith-blades.” I grip his hand, hoping to convince him that he has to hurry.

Hazel eyes flutter open, slowly focusing on my face.

“Ariel? I thought you were with me in a dream.”

“I can be more than that if you’ll just wake up enough to get this done.”

Orlin tugs at my arm until I reluctantly unwrap myself from Marin and stand. She hands me a deep blue robe.

“If you want to help, you can pass me the herbs as I ask for them. But I need you out of my way. We haven’t much time.”

I wrap the robe around myself, noticing the smooth shimmering feel of it against my skin as it flows around my ankles like cool water.

“Anything. Tell me what to do.”

She points. “That is a fresh pot of starfoil. Put it on the flame.”

The infusion is already warm and soon the relaxing scent of it fills the room. I try to remain inconspicuous as I slink back to Marin’s side and hold onto his hand. I feel his fingers tense as Orlin draws out the first deadly needle, but he does a far more efficient job than I did of remaining silent while the healer’s song once more fills the scented air.

The compelling music takes over as one by one the evil white stiletto-blades are dragged out of Marin’s arms and burned. By the time Orlin is finished he looks exhausted, but is already pushing himself to deal with his responsibilities as captain. As he always does.

“Orlin, do you know where Dragar is?”

She shakes her head in disapproval.

“Captain Marin, please don’t tell me you’re another one who disobeys my orders to rest and recover? Kariel has not executed your Rapathian friend yet, if that is what you mean.”

This does not give Marin the reassurance she probably intended. He heaves himself onto one elbow with a groan.

“General Dragar is not exactly what I would call a friend. However, he fought valiantly beside us in the battle to close the veil and for that he deserves to be pardoned for whatever wrong Kariel judges him to have committed against your people. I know there are grievous crimes his countrymen have inflicted everywhere but Dragar himself is our best hope for changing the future.” He reaches for my hand. “Ariel, help me get out of here to replace where they are holding him.”

I turn to Orlin with an apologetic shrug and offer Marin my shoulder to haul himself upright. He grabs his clothes while I try to bargain with the healer for some kind of compromise on her herbal wraps. We settle on a reduced version of her treatment, one wrap on each shoulder, thin enough to fit under Marin’s coat.

“You’re lucky,” I assure him. “It won’t feel like you’re wrapped in quite so much wet seaweed once it cools off.”

Orlin raises an eyebrow but doesn’t comment.

Reluctantly, she agrees to take us to where Dragar is being held prisoner and we follow her along smooth twisting paths between marsh and pond to a wide grassy clearing in the trees.

Dragar is tied to a sturdy moss-covered trunk at one side, while Deris and Kariel stand a few paces away, once more engaged in a heated discussion in Elvish.

Judging by the long slender sword in Kariel’s hand, I assume this is another debate that needs little translation.

Marin intervenes. “Kariel, has there been a trial?”

The Fae captain turns furious eyes on him.

“Seven generations of trial! Countless deaths, even more suffering––”

Dragar interrupts. “Slaves have no right to claim justice against their rightful masters!”

I stifle a groan. I suppose it was inevitable that our arrogant associate would make things a hundred times worse for himself as soon as he opened his mouth. I can only imagine the trouble he has been causing since Kariel lifted the ward-bane that hit him when he crossed the boundary.

I sidle up to Deris for more information.

“Does this mean that these Elves are all captured slaves who have escaped and built a guarded haven here?”

“Not quite. Their ancestors escaped their chains and these are their descendants. They venture outside only to set free any human slaves in the vicinity or to heal victims of Duhokan’s ghouls who stray too close. There are no longer any Elf-slaves in Rapathia. The vigilance and diversionary power of the wards have kept the free people of the forest undiscovered for years.”

“Is there any way to stop Dragar constantly referring to them as lost property?”

Deris gives an exasperated sigh. “Short of whacking him on the head again, unfortunately not, it would seem.”

I think longingly of how easy and pleasant life would be if we could simply abandon Dragar to his fate. Then I look back at Marin trying to push himself past the exhaustion to bargain with Kariel and save the life of our ungrateful companion. Simply because he can see the bigger picture, because he still holds out hope for the future.

Still holds to following Jantian’s orders.

I walk over to face Dragar, trying to keep my temper under control for a change.

“Do you actually want Kariel to cut your head off?”

“I will never beg mercy from a mere slave!”

“Kariel has always lived free. His people have been here undiscovered for generations. You should understand that, now you have experienced the power of their wards.”

“Now I know where they are, I will replace them. They will all be recaptured and returned to their rightful owners.”

“They won’t. Partly because, as I have just explained, they don’t have any owners. And partly because Samaran will grant them sanctuary before you get anywhere near them.”

Dragar scowls at me, no doubt working out a stinging response––while I try to decide if the pledge I just made on Tandarion’s behalf without permission counts as treason.

Marin walks over. “I just learned something interesting from Kariel. We may be able to work out a bargain.” He glares at Dragar. “If the general can cease condemning himself for long enough to think of his country instead of his pride.”

To my astonishment, Dragar remains silent.

Marin steers me away and lowers his voice. “Kariel has offered to lend their boats for our journey. We can travel downriver almost as far as Komopolit if we can trust Dragar to ensure that Kariel’s navigators are not captured by any Rapathian patrols we might run into.”

“Why the sudden stay of execution?”

“I managed to persuade Kariel that one dead Rapathian is poor exchange for the possibility of a better future. Now all I have to do is persuade Dragar to put the well-being of his indentured army ahead of his pride. He cannot supervise their repatriation if he is dead. Samaran also has a stake in making this work. So do these forest-dwellers.” Marin steers me back to where Kariel is waiting.

I am still trying to catch up with the rapid change of plans. “When do we leave?”

Kariel points to the stretch of water beyond the clearing.

“Now. Half this garrison is needed in Northhaven. We had reports of slavers entering the area just beyond our borders and we were asked to bring in reinforcements. Six of my archers have given up their places for you and Orlin to come with us.”

“Does that mean we can spend a few days on a boat doing nothing instead of sitting on a horse feeling exhausted?”

Marin wraps a weary arm around my shoulders.

“My thoughts exactly.”