Soulblade: An Epic Fantasy Adventure Romance (A Dance of Fire and Shadow Book 4)
Soulblade: Chapter 26

IF THIS IS WHAT IS feels like to be treated as royalty when not in the middle of a battle or a risky episode of deception, then I can finally understand why my sister is so attracted to it. Marin and I are lounging on piles of soft cushions, watching sunlit trees glide past on either side of the broad river. Orlin insists on bringing us trays of delicious food and drink at regular intervals, telling us that she has carefully blended her healing herbs into it to restore our strength as quickly as possible.

Especially needed, she says sternly, because both Marin and I have politely refused any further wet herb-wraps. If we are suddenly called on to help defend this expedition and fight, those things are guaranteed to slow us down.

There is an undercurrent of tension in all these arrangements though. Dragar has not been afforded such comfort. His hands and ankles are bound to the bench at the bow of the ship. Kariel has assured us he will not drown as these boats only ever sink if attacked by Rapathian soldiers––and in any case one strike of a blade will sever the cords. The Fae captain still fingers the hilt of his sword as if to make clear it is Dragar’s neck he would much prefer to sever, but so far he has held to his pledge.

The remaining problem is Dragar’s obstinate refusal to enter into constructive negotiations beyond grudgingly holding back from describing his captors as slaves or property. So far Marin has been unable to convince him that he is still living on borrowed time. If he refuses to give his word to protect the forest havens, our ships will go no further than one day beyond the Elves’ northern border, Dragar will be executed and we will have to ride a longer distance to reach Komopolit.

Marin is still steadfastly focused on the political fallout, while to my shame I can’t help feeling more motivated by the thought of an extra day of comfort on board this floating heaven of soft cushions and delicious food.

The seven ships gliding in mid-stream are like no craft I have ever seen before. Light and swift, woven from supple branches and skinned with birch-bark, they are spacious enough for five warriors to travel in comfort in each one, while the larger vessel at the rear carries our horses. Delicate wing-shaped sails catch the wind, increasing our speed as the current carries us steadily northward. Deris tells me these ships can travel for one day beyond the Elf-borders as they are also protected by deflection-wards. Closer to the capital there are too many towns and people for the ruse to be reliable.

Marin interrupts my idle musings, squeezing my hand and pointing. “Ariel, have you seen what we are passing on the riverbanks?”

Lazily, I turn my gaze away from the glorious play of sunlight on blue-gold sails. It takes a few moments before the meaning of what I’m looking at sinks in and I hurriedly twist my body around to see better.

“It’s… so different from the rest of Rapathia! I had sort of noticed the trees were taller and greener inside the havens, and the food here is so much better than the stunted berries and scrawny rabbits we’ve survived on along the way, but this…”

On either side, the swamp-pools have been shaped into broad paddy-fields lush with green stalks of new rice. Narrow raised paths curve between each field, with clusters of trees at every junction, their branches bowed down with fruit or nuts. A few tall slender figures flit between the tree-trunks, filling their baskets with rich bounty. The sweet tang of oranges and pomegranates drifts across on the breeze.

Dragar has noticed too.

“What is this? Another example of Elven-runes to deceive the eyes of the unwary?”

I’m almost starting to feel sorry for him. He perceives everything he encounters as a threat or an insult, while Marin and I are grinning at each other like children, delighting in the richness of this place after so many days in the stink and rot and death of the Rapathian swamplands. I have to replace out how this has happened.

“Kariel, this is amazing! How have your people done this?

Kariel scans the riverbank with evident pride.

“Many years of care, nurturing the salamanders and dryads who fled here to escape Nagal’s corruption and the demons of Duhokan.”

Dragar’s accusation is inevitable I suppose.

“So you admit to stealing even our Elementals? Keeping them for yourselves while the rest of the country starves?”

I catch Kariel’s eye and intervene, hoping to avoid further bad feeling between the two of them.

“Dragar, did you actually listen to what Kariel said? These lesser Elementals fled here for sanctuary! They are not powerful enough to survive the mess the Emperor and Nagal made of the rest of Rapathia. Even if you replace a way to drag them back by force, they will wither and die in the poison that has been spread around your country!”

I glance guiltily at Marin, hoping I have not ruined his efforts at diplomacy. To my relief, he backs me up.

“Ariel is right, Dragar. If you want to repair the damage and provide food for your returning legions, you will need the skill and help of people who know how to handle the Elementals. And you have a commander’s obligation to save your men from starvation when they return from Samaran.”

Silence. Maybe Marin has finally found the one thing that means something to a military commander. Tomorrow we will pass the northern border of the Elf-havens and there remains only one more day of travel before this truce must either be forged or fail.

When night falls we sleep on the boat beneath the stars, soft cushions and silken sheets weaving fantasies in my head of staying here forever in the perfumed air. I stretch out, naked and lazy against Marin’s body, exulting in the way I can feel how quickly his strength and vitality have returned with skilled treatment and good food. Something else has changed in him. The empty, lonely space around him has gone and I hope so much it will not return. Only now can I admit to myself that I thought I had lost him.

I slide closer to him under the cool brush of satin covers as I reach out to draw him to me, smooth and hard against my skin. He needs no further encouragement, his arms circling my shoulders as he whispers in my ear.

“Ariel? Are you sure I can hold you now without hurting you?”

“I’ll hurt more if you don’t hold me. I have missed you so much…” A warm glow of desire ripples through my whole body and I can tell he feels the same, his hand sliding down my back to pull me close to him as his lips replace mine in a kiss that tells me so much about the way he feels.

Passionate, yearning. And at last, at peace with himself enough to love me fully once more.

IN THE EARLY MIST OF the next morning’s journey I suddenly sense the strange vibration of the wards, the subtle rune-persuasion urging me to look elsewhere, to redirect my journey away from the disturbing feelings of uncertainty they weave in my mind. It is much easier to notice it now I know what to look for and I can understand why Kariel will not risk the safety of his people by allowing Dragar to take this knowledge back to the capital.

Beyond the protected part of the forest the sickly devastation of Rapathia seems even more desolate by comparison. Blackened crops and half-rotted dead cattle surround grimy villages scattered across the stinking swamplands. I watch Dragar carefully, wondering if this will finally convince him to let go his ingrained pride.

Kariel is waiting for news from his northern patrol so he orders a halt earlier than usual. Instead of remaining on the boats we make camp in an uninhabited stretch of forest and marsh. Kariel sends a dozen of his best warriors to weave new defensive wards around us and stand guard.

I leave Marin to a final wearying effort of negotiating with Dragar and walk out to the edge of the encampment, careful to stay within the protected boundary of the wards. I have been too long without news of home and any glimpse, however fleeting, will be more than welcome.

I sit beside the rippling blue flames of the marsh pool, staring into the light for a long time with no success. Perhaps the deathly experience of the temple in Duhokan has leached out my ability. Orlin approaches so silently I don’t notice her presence until she sits beside me.

“Ariel? Do you need help with this?”

I remember how Rian’s support had made just enough difference to help me start the sequence.

“Please. I’m getting nowhere with this. And I have had no news of my sister for some time.”

She passes me a tiny bundle of dried starfoil and then clasps my hand in both her own. “Try again. And keep the starfoil for future scrying.”

I feel tears prickling my eyes as I focus on Alina. I miss her so much and Samaran is still a dangerous place. Slowly the flames smooth and flatten, becoming a circle of blue haze in the middle of the pool. I had expected another vision of my sister in her room, maybe trying on an elegant new dress or gazing at maps with Kashia, but the image that plays out has me sitting bolt upright in shock.

Alina is in a grand Manor that is new to me––but from the crests and sigils adorning the walls I can tell that for some reason she has finally moved to her gifted demesne of Yarkfold.

What is causing my breath to come in gasps of fear is that my sister is fighting for her life––but the strangeness is more than that. She is fighting with a skill and precision she has never possessed in all the time I have known her, a slender-bladed dagger in each hand. A delicately tailored mailshirt overlays the matching green embroidery of her dress and two more almost-concealed weapons sheathed at her ankle briefly reveal themselves as she moves. She dispatches another of her assailants and steps back with a sigh of relief. Then she walks across the room, stepping over bloody corpses to join a tall dark figure who had been just beyond my vision until now.

Shadow.

He congratulates her success with a brief dip of his head, casually taking a cloth from the back of a chair to wipe his bloodstained blade. Suddenly, he glances back over his shoulder, an uneasy frown on his pale features. It almost feels as if he can sense my presence as I gaze at him through the blue haze.

“Ariel.” Orlin stretches her hand and it dawns on me I am almost crushing her fingers in my grip.

“Sorry. I just…” The words will not come.

“Tell me. I feel your pain.”

Marin arrives in a rush. “What happened? You screamed and I thought––”

“I saw Alina in the flames. She is with Shadow, he has been teaching her to fight and she has just killed at least two people––”

“Whoa, calm down, we need to think this through.” He settles himself beside me and takes me in his arms. “Think of the good news for a few moments. She can defend herself now, and Shadow is guarding her just as you asked him to. Do you think those attackers were there on Farang’s orders?”

“I… I can’t be sure. It’s what I assumed, but it could just be because that was the situation when we left Samaran. What worries me is that I know my sister––or I thought I did. For her to learn how to fight with such skill in a relatively short time…”

I feel too reluctant to say it aloud.

Marin puts it into words for me. “You think she has taken the Blade’s gift?”

“It feels that way. But it can’t be possible! Shadow told me the binding between us was exclusive, it was for life… And he does not lie.”

“You say the binding was for life.” It is Orlin’s soft voice, whispering through the evening air.

“Yes, he said it was.”

“But Ariel, you died.”