The Bonds of Blood Read online

  Lifting his horn to his lips, Jovian took in a deep breath … and stopped. Right behind him came the haunting laughter again. All of the hair on his body stood on end as he froze too terrified to turn or blow his horn.

  Motionless, Jovian reminded himself to breath, with eyes tightly closed. When he found the strength to open them, he thought for sure he could see two glowing green orbs pacing beside him, stalking him. The horse stomped a few times and blew nervously. Suddenly Jovian had to grab the reigns as Methos reared, and he lost hold of his horn.

  The second time the stallion reared, Jovian was tossed from its back, and the crash to the ground sent pain lancing up his arm as it snapped his wrist. He let out a sharp cry as the horn blew again, still farther away than before.

  With his good hand, Jovian pushed himself upright, his brown trousers damp from the wet earth and his golden hair matted to his head with sweat. He cradled his wrist to his chest as more pain shot up the bone. Sucking the air in through his teeth, Jovian winced.

  The laughter came again, but Jovian was defenseless against it. His body trembled. He looked around frantically for his horn, but he couldn’t find it. Retracing his fall, he tried to determine where he was when he lost it, but decided to move forward. He stopped. Forward—wasn’t that the way the laughter was coming from? Instead he turned, and when he did he found himself eye to eye with glowing green eyes, level with his own.

  He stumbled back, breaking his fall with his dominant yet broken hand. A surge of pain sent black spots to cloud his vision. On the way down, his head thumped against something hard, hard enough that he heard the thing crack. He would have reached back for it, but just then a huge shape bounded out of the fog and pinned him to the ground. All the ways he had landed up until now had protected his bow and quiver, but with the large shape landing on him, the weapon stood no chance. It splintered, driving part of the quiver case into his side.

  Jovian looked up into the poisonous green eyes. Unnatural putrid eyes that glowed like hot embers, yet seethed as if made of smoke. The creature let out a hyena cackle; this creature was anything but a hyena. Part of its body took the form of a hyena, but the face was large and ape-like, a slightly deformed ape with large tusks that protruded from its bottom jaw up the sides of its skull to frame its temples. The creature opened its mouth, and Jovian saw a forked tongue lick the air before his face.

  He felt something pierce his shoulders then, and when he looked down he saw cloven hooves that came down to a sharp point, like claws. Jovian’s attention was quickly brought back to the beast’s face when it let out a series of noises that sounded for the entire world a mixture of a cough and a bark.

  The boy didn’t know what to do. He couldn’t reach his weapon, and even if he could it was now splintered, not to mention it would do him no good at this close proximity. He was in pain from the quiver, which continuously dug itself deeper into his back, and furthermore, now there was an agonizing pressure in his lower right leg where the large beast pierced its clawed feet into Jovian.

  He sent a prayer up to the goddess, that she would protect him, and he was hopeful that she could hear him during her struggle to leave the grips of the Otherworld. The creature growled as the Holy Mother’s prayer issued from Jovian’s lips, and the leg that pinned his right one down twisted, splintering Jovian’s leg much like his bow.

  A sharp cry left his lips, but Jovian still formed the words:

  “Holy Mother of the Ever After, be here with me now. I have strayed away and lost my ground, fearing to be never found. Blessed She who is all things, weave a light around me, for in your light nothing’s lost, and evil shall not be.” A harsh sound slipped from his throat as the beast wrenched its back leg further into Jovians broken one. Tears sprang to his eyes, and Jovian thought all was lost. The Goddess didn’t hear him.

  But soon he realized how wrong he was, because even as he writhed, Jovian was beginning to see a most familiar sight. It was a sight that Angelica and he had seen often while voyaging in a small grove of trees by their plantation home.

  A little way off to his right Jovian saw a faint silver light shining in the darkening fog. He let out a hopeful cry as the familiar light of the Guardian Spirit (what Angelica and he came to know as an Aramaiti) began to brighten, but never so bright that he could not look straight into it. Some people would have called a light that haunting and dull a wythe light, but Jovian knew better. This very light had come to him many times, and either guided him and Angelica, helped them out of danger, or just kept them company.

  The deep fog near him began to eddy as the orb grew longer, and nearer. Soon its shape transformed to that of a small person who would have only stood as high as Jovian’s chest. The dark beast seemed not to like the Aramaiti, for it turned all of its hatred from Jovian to the silver figure drawing near.

  Jovian realized then that the fog wasn’t just swirling around the feet of the figure; the fog was actually being repelled. Soon Jovian could see all of the oily black fur of the chaotic beast on him, for chaotic was the only word he could think of to describe it.

  The silver light never faded, but the figure slowly became more human, more flesh instead of light. Even amidst the pain, this drew all of Jovian’s attention, for he had never seen this being in the flesh before. Angelica and Jovian had only ever seen its outline.

  He was not surprised to see that the being was female, or even that the long loosely curled hair that framed her face was coal black; for some reason it just fit. Her long wispy dress drifted on the currents of the fog, emanating endless silver from the seams. The small woman turned her stern face on the creature, and her ice blue eyes burned with a cold fire.

  Jovian heard no words spoken, but her eyes warned the creature to leave or suffer pain and death. It was no surprise when the creature bound off, disappearing into the fog.

  The Aramaiti drifted closer to Jovian, and the damp fog left him. Kneeling beside him, she smiled and touched his head. At once the pain was gone, but only if he stayed in that one position. As soon as Jovian tried to move, the pain returned in sharp gusts through his wrist, side, and leg again.

  The Aramaiti smiled again in understanding. Jovian looked into her face; she was the most beautiful person he had ever seen before. Her strong jaw and high cheekbones spoke of a native of the Realm of Earth, yet her calm radiance and loving eyes testified of someone closer to home.

  Pulled into those hypnotic eyes, it was some time before Jovian felt himself starting to nod off to sleep. It was then he heard the horn, this time closer, and his awareness returned.

  The Aramaiti was gone, and the fog was thicker. If he had not been rescued by her before, he would have thought she was nothing more than a figment of his imagination.

  Slowly, so as not to cause more pain, he reached for the lump causing great agony behind his head. It was his horn, cracked in one part, but still of some use. He found he had to blow harder, but in time he was able to manage a long mournful note on the instrument despite the ache it caused him.

  That was all the energy Jovian had. He no more blew the note before he fell into blackness.

  He awoke beneath the worried face of his father looming over him, and heard a few barked orders. Jovian was never sure what was happening, or what was being said, only that he was being moved somewhere, and evidently there were many people involved in caring for him.

  It wasn’t until much later that he found out that the horn was originally blown because old man Nelson had been accidentally killed by a stray arrow cutting through the fog. Jovian had yet another reason to hate hunting.

  CHAPTER TWO

  Angelica was up in the bathroom tending a broken nose Destra had given her in arms practice when the horn blew. She peered out the window to see the hunting crew come back; a litter dragging behind a horse. As if on que there were crowds of people milling around frantically, trying to see what was happening. Seeing the prone person as Jovian, Angelica raced down into the fray as fast as she could.
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  “Pull yourself together; have you lost all control of your senses?” Grace helped the head cook Ashell to stand and pawned her off on one of the other servants now standing with them. “Now, we will need to get him cleaned up, dress his wounds of course, and get him nice and comfortable.” By this it was obvious what Grace meant: drug him heavily. “Angelica,” Grace snapped her fingers a few times to get the girl’s attention, “go oversee the preparation of his room. While you are at it, clip me some belladonna, and gather some white willow bark from the stores in the kitchen. I will need them.” Grace clapped her hands and patted the horse equipped with Jovian’s litter on the behind, easing it into motion. Now that Grace was in charge, everything seemed to run a bit more smoothly than the near chaos from before.

  Angelica fell into step beside the litter and smiled down at Jovian when he came around. He peered at her through half closed eyes and cocked his head to the side.

  “Angie, am I imagining things, or are you quite beat up?” Jovian asked in a very thick voice.

  “No, you are not imagining things; I am very beat up.” She smirked, but it only reminded her that her nose was broke. She hoped Destra was wrong, and that it wouldn’t heal crooked. She had already set it, but she couldn’t help feeling at her face again.

  Damn it all, she thought, looking behind her where Grace ordered people around for the supervision of old man Nelson’s funerary rites, for now the votary had been called from the chapel to give the darkest hour prayer, a little late.

  It didn’t take long to get Jovian unloaded and settled into his second floor bedroom. Angelica stood in the window, peering out at the back of the house where the last of the group was only now dissipating.

  “Now,” Grace’s brisk voice echoed down the stonewalled hall, nearing the room. “What have we here?” she asked, pushing her way through the servants to Jovian’s side.

  Sensing a long wait before seeing her brother, Angelica left the room and headed to the bathroom to finish cleaning up. After a few cranks on the indoor well, the corner of Angelica’s tunic was sufficiently soaked, and she used it to dab at the dried blood on her face. There really wasn’t much point; she was going to have to bathe later anyway.

  Peering out the small window to the right, she saw her sisters and Destra trudging their way up the front yard from the battlefield.

  With a sigh, she stood and made her way downstairs to the yard.

  “What happened to Jovian?” Amber asked. They had returned from training as soon as they heard the horn. They arrived just in time to see Jovian being loaded into the house on a litter. Of course, they were only getting half answers, and it wasn’t until Destra grabbed the front of a servant’s shirt that she was able to shake the entire story out of someone.

  “But he’s okay?” Joya asked. The rattled servant wasn’t one in the hunting party, so he hadn’t yet heard that Jovian had been attacked by a huge beast.

  “Yes,” the boy said as Destra put him back down. “Your brother’s fine. He only suffered a broken leg and wrist. Grace is attending to him now.”

  It was then, as the boy Destra had just violated was running off, that Angelica joined her sisters.

  “How is he? Have you seen him?” Amber turned to her younger sister.

  “Yes, I just came from his room. Grace is in there now, so there is no luck trying to get in to see him. He suffered some broken bones, and he is really confused with the drugs, so he can’t make much sense. All in all, I would give it a few hours before I tried to attempt a visit.”

  “As I thought,” Joya piped in. “Come, let’s make him some of his favorite tea and go up to see if Grace could use some help.”

  Much to their surprise, when they arrived at the room with a piping hot cup of mint tea, Grace was sitting in a rocking chair by the bed, knitting as he slept. A lit pipe in a glass tray at her elbow billowed sweet smoke into the darkened room. The three sisters were all happy to see the servants were no longer in attendance, and that Grace was all done dressing his wounds.

  “How is he?” Angelica asked.

  “He will live,” Grace sounded tired. “He was a little confused, and not all of it was due to the drugs.” Grace stood and gathered up her basket of yarn. “Would you girls mind sitting with him for a while? I should go pay my respect to Nelson.”

  “Of course,” Angelica agreed.

  After the old lady cleared out of the room, the girls gathered around Jovian’s bed. The two oldest sisters pulled up chairs, while Angelica sat on the edge of his bed.

  “How long do you think he will be out?” Joya asked.

  “That all depends on what she gave him,” Amber commented.

  “It was a mixture of belladonna and white willow bark,” Angelica supplied.

  “Well, depending on how much belladonna she gave him, he may be out for a while.” Joya had always been good with herbs.

  “I think his tea will get cold.” Amber looked to the steaming cup on the night stand and sighed.

  It was late in the evening when Jovian came around. The girls had all fallen asleep—Angelica at the foot of the bed, Amber and Joya with heads resting on the sides of it.

  Jovian looked from person to person, cracking a grin. He tried to sit up, but the pain in his right wrist, not to mention the splint, didn’t allow for much mobility. His struggling woke Joya and Angelica, who immediately aided him in his efforts.

  Yawning, Amber came to a few moments later and smiled when she saw him.

  The lingering scent of sweat and dirt-soiled clothes provided evidence that the girls had stayed at Jovian’s bedside, rather than washing up after their sparring lesson. “Aren’t you all a sight?” he asked, scrunching his nose in mock disgust.

  “And you yourself,” Amber joked, jabbing him in the ribs but only succeeded in jabbing him close to his wound. He flinched, and that made Amber feel worse. “Here,” she supplied weakly, handing him the cold tea to make up for her blunder.

  “Thank you,” he said, and took a drink. “Mint, that’s nice.” Even though it was cold, it soothed Jovian who at one point in the trip thought he would never make it back home.

  “What happened to you?” Joya asked, and that seemed to start all sorts of questions and answers. Jovian told them of the trip, and of the strange laughter. He was sure to mention to Amber how much a coward Alhamar was, for it was no secret that she and Alhamar had been involved for some time. To this she answered that his being “less than heroic” was nothing new to her, and at least he would not go off hunting and come home half dead. Jovian blushed. Eagerly they urged him on, and he told them about the attack, and the beast that he found himself faced with.

  “I’ve heard about those,” said Angelica. “It’s said the Black Shucks look just as you have described. It is a type of dalua dog, said to come from the Realm of the Dead.”

  Jovian stared at her for a few moments speechless, and then his eyes brightened. “I saw the Aramaiti again while I was there.” Amber and Joya had never seen the Guardian Spirit themselves, but they had often heard Angelica and Jovian speak of it.

  “You did?” Angelica asked, scooting forward. “When did it come?”

  “It was right after I prayed for help, and from my right came this dull silver light. The fog seemed to be dispelled by her coming, and the fog shifted away from her—”

  “Her?” Angelica asked.

  “Yes, she revealed herself to me. She was the most beautiful creature I had ever seen, but thinking back now, she didn’t really seem that extraordinary.” He described her as best as he could remember. “The most hypnotic thing about was her eyes, and the fact that her hair was as black as any you would find in all the Shadow Realm.”

  “Are you sure she’s not dalua?” Joya asked critically set on guard by the mention of her hair.

  “Are you sure you aren’t?” Jovian asked.

  “Point taken,” she said.

  “She seemed very magical indeed, and that is what chased away the creature—” r />
  “Black Shuck,” Angelica insisted.

  “Okay, Black Shuck,” Jovian relented.

  They all sat for some time listening to Jovian go on and on about the woman, and then he gave a great sigh as his eyes turned to the window.

  Amber stood, and ruffled his already messy hair. “Don’t ever do something like that again, because if the next dalua doesn’t kill you, I just might.”

  “I’ll try to ask permission next time.”

  “That’s better.” Amber smiled and stepped away from the bed.

  Joya gave him a quick hug and retreated to the doorway.

  “Angie, are you coming?” Joya asked, opening the door.

  “In a minute,” she responded, and the two oldest sisters left the room.

  “I was very worried, Angie,” Jovian said.

  “I know,” Angelica said, wiggling his left foot. “I was very frightened when I saw you on that litter.”

  He turned his gaze to a pond beyond the windowpane.

  “What was it like?” Angelica asked. “The Black Shuck?”

  “It was like the most horrible of dalua you could ever see; true Chaos through and through. Of course, at the time I was frightened enough that I didn’t really want to think about how Chaotic it was. No matter how I tried, though, there was no doubt that the creature wanted nothing less than my soul.” Angelica was sure he was not seeing the pond any longer.

  “I can bet it was,” she said, standing. “Do you want me to keep you company anymore?”

  “Yes, I think that would be nice,” he said.

  They sat like that for a while in complete silence, and it wasn’t until Jovian fell asleep that Angelica took the mug from him and left the room for her own bed.

  Jovian was not sure what time in the night he was woken by the dream. In fact, when he woke up to the eerie light of predawn, Jovian could not exactly recall what the dream had been which woke him in a cold sweat.