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His words spear me. My honor used to be renowned, but now? What have I been doing these past months? Running, hiding, deserting. Pining over a human. I feel ashamed, looking into the eyes of one of my people. Last week I told Marvik he’s been selfish, but what about me? I’ve put my own happiness above my duty, been hiding in the woods like a coward, unable to face the consequences of my actions. Is that what I’ve become? A coward? That can’t be. Still, going to meet Rognar at High Citadel will only mean my doom. But Verog is also right that the rulers need to hear of this attack swiftly, so that they may respond to the threat. And who better to tell them of the attack than the ones that discovered it? One whose word has never been in question? It’s a neat little trap that Verog has maneuvered me into. Only a true coward would avoid it.
Holding back a sigh of resignation, I say, “Bring your fastest warbeast, then. I will ride to High Citadel.”
Verog does the sign of respect again, though a little morehesitantly than he did the first time, and strides away.
Marvik comes back to me, the human magistrate hurrying away from him, obviously moving to obey Marvik’s orders. “What are you doing?” he asks suspiciously. “What were you talking about with him? I thought you said you’d leave the talking to me?”
“He wants me to go to High Citadel and report on the attack to the king and queen,” I tell him. “I agreed.”
Marvik spears me with his eyes. “Youagreed? But, Dura, if we go to High Citadel, if they ask questions, there will be nowhere to hide. They’ll send you to theKillikar.”
I smile faintly at his butchered pronunciation of the Orikesh word, but then sigh. “You know as well as I do that we owe a duty to Rognar and Adalind. We need to tell them what we know and protect our countries. It would be selfish to do otherwise and I, for one, think I have been cowardly and selfish long enough. It is time for me to face the consequences of my actions.”
Marvik looks at me gravely, his face unreadable. I find myself wishing that we had fully mated, so that I could feel what he is feeling.Oh well. Now that will never happen.
MyAsh’kafinally says, “Well, you won’t do it alone. I’m going with you. And I’ll make them understand that what you did was under duress. There were mitigating circumstances that weren’t under your control.”
I don’t think that his defense of me will do much. Excuses are not the Orikesh way. Ididdesert after all. Other deserters before me would have had their own excuses. I don’t think mine carries more weight than theirs. Still, I’ll be glad to have Marvik with me, for at least a little while longer.
I don’t have time to reply, however, before Verog returns, leading a huge warbeast. It is not a purebred, judging from its mottled green and black skin and fur, but with its long, barbed lizard tail, huge, rippling physique and wolf-like head, it is still good beast-flesh. My own Kava is a purebred, a royal mount. She is sleek and fast, but this warbeast is all muscle and power.
“This is Yarro,” says Verog. “My own warbeast. His stamina is unmatched and he can run for days without stopping. You should be able to get to High Citadel quickly on his back.”
“I thank you for the use of your warbeast. I will return him to you, as quickly as I am able,” I tell him.
Verog nods in acceptance of my words, then hands me a pouch along with the reins to Yarro. “Bloodroot,” he tells me. “You do not look like you have slept this night and you’ll likely not be able to sleep for a while more.”
It is a thoughtful gesture, more than I expected. But practical as well. If we are to ride all the way north to High Citadel without rest, bloodroot is necessary.
I take a pinch with a murmur of thanks and put it in my mouth, chewing. Strength and awareness floods me, a familiar feeling. When I feel it reach its peak, I spit out the remnants. Then I take a pinch and hand it to Marvik.
“What is it?” he asks.
“Bloodroot,” I say. “An herb that strengthens you and makes you more awake. It has the side effect of making you more aggressive, however, so keep that in mind.”
Marvik takes the dried root and cautiously puts it in his mouth.
“Chew until you feel strong and then spit it out. A few moments will suffice.”
Marvik chews and makes a hideous face. “This is terrible.”
“It is quite bitter,” I agree.
After a few moments, Marvik spits, the dark remnants of the root splattering on the ground. I move to the side of Yarro and swing up. Yarro is a well-trained beast and doesn’t snap his sharp teeth at me at the intrusion, just waiting passively as I get situated. Then I reach out a hand to Marvik. He doesn’t hesitate before putting his hand in mine and I swing him up behind me.
“It’s similar to riding a horse, I imagine,” I tell him. “Just followthe rhythm of the movement and keep your seat. If you feel you are going to fall, you may hold on to me.”
“Understood,” says Marvik.
I turn to face Verog, who looks at the two of us, a question in his eyes. I see his gaze flick to Marvik’s neck, but there is no Mating Bite there. Nothing to tell him about what Marvik and I are to each other. Not that I really know what we are to each other, either.
“My thanks, Verog ka Roknir,” I say. “Your valor will be noted when we give the report to the king.”
Verog makes the sign of respect. “Go with the gods, General Dura. We will protect the people here.”
With that, I spur Yarro into movement, taking him at his highest speed. As I ride, an unsettled feeling rests in my chest. The closer we get to High Citadel, the closer I get to Rognar. And his judgment awaits.
Chapter 23
