Silently she thanked the Tae for staying her hand the last time the need was so strong. She had been waiting for Darien to return and had grown concerned. The desire to battle had been more than difficult to deny while she had sat outside that cursed window listening to Darien give her and her charges away. She was still angry, but his intentions had been noble in the end and Quivern might be of some use.
Quivern.
She could feel his breath, heavy with excitement and fear, feathering her bare shoulder. She couldn�t help but let her heart beat quicken to match his. The dark, light-absorbing mark that penetrated her chest just above her left breast throbbed in time with their synchronized pulses.
There was something odd about his icy green eyes that made her want to trust him. An unidentifiable emotion lurked just beneath their surface; they made her almost calm when they were settled on her.
�Miss?� Darien�s whined whisper was barely audible, but was still too loud for her taste. �You�re just going to abandon them?�
It was dark in the corner where they were crouched but she was still positive the glare had delivered her message just the same.
Silu knew why he was confused, though. Memories of the initiation test and ceremony flashed in the back of her mind. She could remember vividly the oath she had sworn to the Tan U Tae. The simple words were powerful and binding. �I swear on my sword and my life to uphold the sacred laws of nature. The most important of them; to insure the protection and survival of our mother earth whatever the cost.� To outsiders this solemn vow could mean almost anything. But, to a Shyra it was a specific instruction. The earth is preserved best when in balance. Without balance it wouldn�t function properly, the consequences of would be catastrophic. Transporting the coldlings to the Southern Polar regions was part of that intricate cobweb of balance the sisters in the Tan U Tae were trying to maintain.
Darien might not understand that but she knew that he was aware that it was her sworn duty to set the coldling�s lives above her own.
Quivern�s large and surprisingly soft hand rested on, then squeezed her naked shoulder. �These people do not belong in my home.� His tone was menacing.
Silu nodded and tightened her hold on the pliant leather grip of her sword. It was vibrating softly in warning. It rarely took the initiative to communicate its concern to her.
She thought the tallest of the six men, standing mere feet from the three of them, was the only dangerous one among them. Unfortunately he was an even larger danger to the coldlings then herself. By his uniform, she guessed he was a royal bounty hunter from the Fifth kingdom of the Fire Workers.
A quick glance at Bjover told her that he had followed her lead and backed the two younger coldlings farther into the cave-like room. They were the only two coldlings born in the last twenty years. The two small and rather helpless magical beings were vital to maintaining balance. They were the purpose of her mission. She would not fail to protect them. The human men wouldn�t care though. They only thought with their fear and prejudice close at hand when they dealt with magic.
Carefully she found Quivern�s right hip. He was crouching behind her in the darkness. By the feel of his thigh she knew he was tensed to fight. She found what she was looking for and pulled it free of its leather sheath.
His knife would be of no use to him in this battle. She hoped that without a weapon he wouldn�t be daring enough to rush into the fray that she would rather avoid having. These men would cut him down before he could think to retreat. They were professionals.
Luckily she was too.
Quivern had been a little more than surprised when she had practically thrown him into the stinking, damp, dark corner. But nothing could have compared to his shock when the beautiful, seemingly powerless girl had rested her hand lightly first on his inner thigh and then on his hip. He was ashamed that even now on the cusp of imminent danger his thoughts could be distracted so easily and entirely. He was at least thankful that she had chosen to toss him in a dark corner. His skin was heated and surely a dark crimson.
When he felt her fingers working open the clasp in his knife his thoughts slowly and reluctantly returned to the emergency at hand.
As she slowly drew the prized dagger from its finely worked leather sheath, Quivern stifled an objection.
She was disarming him.
He wanted to speak but the six foreign soldiers were, for all purposes, standing right on top of them. Why, right now, would she take his only weapon? Damn you. You know better then to leave your sword lying about.
�Looks like the little bitch that was guardin� �um ran off.� It was the one in the cape that spoke; the one that looked like he was the leader. �Musta gave intu her tru nature. Like I�ve always told yu, boys, women ern�t meant fur fightin�. They unly have two uses.�
He must have felt those two uses were obvious enough because he didn�t go into any more detail. Quivern was thankful for that. He didn�t know if these crude words would wound the Shyra, but surprisingly, as if he hadn�t had enough of those, he could feel them cut into his own pride. Something urgent and fiery rose up in his chest. He found it intolerable for such refuse to even think the thoughts this ruffian was daring to speak about her.
She must have sensed the uprising of emotion in him because her hand planted itself on his calf and squeezed a warning.
The chuckles of the five lackeys died out but their ghost continued to echo as they bounced down the long empty passageways of the dungeon. They were accompanied by an ear-stinging crack that made two of the bodies in the corner cringe. The Shyra hadn�t so much as flinched.
�Come on you little demons.� The caped one cracked the whip again. �There�s a high price on yur ugly littl� heads. Wouldn�t want anyun� else to cash yu in, would yu?� More lecherous laughter followed. The man�s slimy speech made Quivern�s skin crawl. He thought he recognized the accent, but the adrenaline pumping through his body was making it difficult to think.
The soldiers ducked through the doorway, their snickering now muffled by the thick, stone walls. A whimper of pain stabbed through the low drone of their voices, a shuffling of feet. The slim fingers on his calf dug into the soft leather of his boot.
Whether out of warning, anger or fear he was not sure. Perhaps all three.
