Undeniable Vengeance

4. Revelations

Revelations

Sunnara, Entiria

Rahg's gaze swept the battlefield as he registered the horrors of a maddening day. Pockets of smoke—like fallen clouds—hovered above mounds of bodies, and the air reeked of boiled blood and charred flesh.

He dragged his foot, tripping over the body of a Victa. Green blood brushed his boot as it oozed from the lizard's limbs. A shiver raced through his body. It wasn't caused by the blood. His clothes and boots were caked in blood, but the Victa leader had almost killed him, the blade digging to the bone. His hand ran across the ridge of a slight scar where a short while ago he thought he might lose the arm, if not his life. Mikkellana had healed it well—that wound and a few others—but the memory of battle would not fade overnight.

Once again he scanned the c*****e. Dead and half-dead were strewn about like corn after the crows had feasted, their bodies bearing the marks of sword and ax, shovel and pick. Other bodies, many others, bore scars from weapons and powers far too unnatural for this world. Fire, Lightning, and Shields that formed spinning discs and sliced bodies into halves.

To his left lay an Entirian with half a torso, a Victa's ax had worked him well. All battles were fierce and bloody, but this somehow seemed worse, worse even than Twin Forks, where his father and most of his childhood friends had been killed.

Some of the wounded still crawled or reached out with battered limbs to beg for healing or a merciful end. Rhaven had ordered a quick death for any of the enemies that lived. “It does no good to be cruel,” he said. Rahg didn't agree with him on that, but he had no wish to argue with anyone right now, let alone Rhaven.

He looked back to see Darstan hobbling along, the Victa blood smearing his olive skin. His shirt and pants were torn, both stained with his blood. Camissa supported him each step of the way. The festering wound on Darstan's leg had darkened. If he didn't care for it soon, the blackish-green death would set in.

"Hold onto me," Rahg said, and reached to help support him. "You should let Mikkellana heal you."

"My leg will heal by itself.” He held up his arm to reveal the stump where his hand had been. “This won’t.”

"From what I heard she's not to blame. She only—”

Darstan's iron jaw locked in place, and a scowl formed on his face before Rahg finished. "She ordered Takar to cut it off. As far as I’m concerned, she's responsible."

Hatred burned in Darstan's dark eyes, and Rahg decided not to pursue it. She must have had a reason.

"Don't worry, Darstan, we'll figure out what to do when we get to Sunnara. We'll—”

Rahg's smile turned down, and his advance halted. He stared ahead, eyes agape. Aentarra stood on the path in front of him, long dark hair flowing in the breeze. She just left a short while ago. What could bring her back so soon?

Aentarra stepped over the corpse of a Victa and walked a path that took her among the wounded and dead, walnut eyes scouring each of the bloody remains.

Rhaven and Mikkellana rushed to catch up. Danger must have pricked at her mind when Aentarra arrived. Ragged brown hair dragged across her shoulders, and her plain face exaggerated the few wrinkles that had begun to show. Mikkellana had been up all night, tending to the wounded, and she looked as if she hadn't slept in days.

"What is it, sister? What have you forgotten?"

Aentarra shuffled through bodies, blood staining her haggard clothes. She let silence hang in the air, then she stopped the search and let her penetrating gaze fall on each member of the party surrounding Mikkellana. She stared at Rhaven, then the others until her glare settled on Rahg.

"I asked if you had forgotten something." Mikkellana's tone brought Aentarra's attention to her.

"No, I thought that I had, but it is of no consequence. Besides, sister, it concerns matters you would not understand."

Rahg had felt the glare burn through him, and try as he might to suppress it, the memory refused to fade. His hands balled into fists, trying to control the fear.

She knows I have it. She must know.

Angst filled him as he recalled the image of Marro's body, returned to haunt him so soon. His skull had split like a melon and, amidst the blood and brains, lay something aglow—a crystal ablaze. Rahg could almost feel the warm sensation when he picked it up and the shiver that coursed his veins as he tucked it inside the fold of his cloak. He had never seen its like before, but he knew it to be dangerous and powerful.

He pulled his cloak tighter, afraid others might see the light. Rahg found the courage to lift his eyes, just as Aentarra moved toward Mikkellana.

Rhaven drew a sai and a sword, then stepped to block her path. A face chiseled from stone framed steel-blue eyes, and they fixed on Aentarra.

Aentarra cast a sidelong glance toward Rhaven, then back to her sister. "Have you taken to hiding behind a man's sword, Mikkellana?"

Mikkellana stood at Rhaven's side, her lip curled. A half dozen soldiers moved to support her.

"Does it surprise you that no one stands with you, Aentarra? You have never had trouble drawing men to your bed, but friends were never to be counted among them."

As Aentarra scanned the group who stood with Mikkellana, Darstan withdrew. "I'll not stand with her, Rahg."

Rahg nodded. Once Darstan set his mind, changing it would be like moving a mountain. His head was as hard as a blacksmith's anvil.

Aentarra's smile brushed across Darstan, then settled on Rahg, standing halfway between the sisters. "I saved your life on the ship, boy, and here, on this field of game."

Confusion overtook Rahg's thoughts. She had saved him twice now.

She must have noticed him swaying. "Do you think you are safer with her?" Thin lips gave way to a snicker. "She's a clever one, I’ll grant you that. But do not turn your back, or close your eyes at night. Not while she's around."

Camissa stood beside Rahg, but she stared at Aentarra, focusing on her alone. Camissa's face turned as gray as old bones.

"You killed him!" Camissa grabbed Rahg's arm. "She killed Shera Kevon."

Aentarra spun toward Camissa with her teeth bared and the look of a mad dog in her eyes. "Lessons come hard to you, girl. I thought your experience on the ship would have tamed your curiosity." A raging fire burned no hotter than Aentarra's glare. "Never touch my thoughts again."

"Did you?" Rahg stared at Aentarra. "Did you kill him?"

Aentarra let silence bore into Rahg's mind. "Ask the sun if any died of thirst today or the sea if any fishermen drowned."

"You did kill him."

"And if I did? Have you not killed before?"

"Not anyone who didn't deserve it."

"And who is to be the judge of that? The insect that you swat off your neck is closer to you than that insignificant priest was to me. Do not place yourself too high, boy. The fall might prove dangerous."

Rhaven's sword–hand twitched, but Mikkellana swiftly restrained him.

Aentarra turned, lightning-fast. "You were gracious to stay his hand, sister. You must favor the warrior."

"Heed your advice. Do not place yourself too high."

"Him? I worry more about a tree falling on me than I do any mortal taking my life."

"Trees have been known to fall," Rhaven said.

Rahg moved closer. "Why did you kill the shera?"

Mikkellana shrugged. "That's the way Aentarra is. Sooner ask the wind why it blows or the sun why it shines. Life means no more to her than that."

"And you profess to be better, sister?" Aentarra looked again to Rahg. "Ask her about Romel. I told you about him, the one she left gasping for air, his last breath a plea for help. Not that I could blame her, there were important issues at stake—titles, lands, issues of first rights."

Aentarra's chest heaved. "I wanted to heal him, but that talent never favored me."

"Who is Romel?" Rahg asked.

"Ask Mikkellana. The secret is not mine to reveal, though it doesn't surprise me that she hasn't shared it with you."

"Enough of this, Aentarra. Begone. Leave before I wrap you in a shield and put you in Sethia. I should have done it long ago. You are not fit to be loose amongst the sane."

"I will go, sister. But tell them of Aentarra. Tell them I will remember where they stood today." Aentarra disappeared, and, when she had gone, Rahg wondered how close he had stood to Mikkellana, and what Aentarra would think of it.

Mikkellana avoided Darstan while she thanked the others for supporting her. "I offer gratitude for your support. It would not have been wise for me to test her strength just then; the Healing left me weakened." Mikkellana touched Rhaven's arm lightly. "Stay with him, warrior. He will need your help." She stared at his sword, then back to his face. "I crafted that sword to fit your hand, but I had no idea you would need it so soon."

"It is a great gift, My Lady, one with no equal."

A frown replaced the smile that had come to Mikkellana's face. "Only one other of its kind ever existed, but that was long ago, and it is now gone."

"Then the wrong man must have held it. A warrior who holds a sword such as this should never lose it."

The lines on her cheeks creased deeper, and her lips turned down. "No, the one who held that sword was meant for battle. When the gods made him, they had a sword in mind. It was fortunate for all that they granted him no powers or the worlds would have never known peace. Every breath he took was for battle."

Rhaven bowed as he spoke. "I will do my best to keep a firm grip on your gift, My Lady. And I shall keep my head attached."

"That pleases me," Mikkellana said, then turned to address Rahg. "Be steady in your journey, Rahg, you have a long way to go."

"Tell me about Romel. Is what Aentarra said true?"

Mikkellana's face lost its warmth. "Believe what you will, but do not think to put me to the fire of questioning. I was through with that before the first of your blood breathed life." Rahg took a step back. "And remember, you are oath-sworn to me."

Rahg's stomach tightened. Mikkellana had mentioned this twice in as many days.

"Yes, oath-sworn. And I may call in that oath soon. Very soon." As she turned to leave Mikkellana's gaze fell on Darstan. "You, too, have a destiny, Darstan. Do not let bitterness destroy you."

Camissa tugged on his shirt, holding him back, but he shrugged her off and moved toward Mikkellana, lifting his arm as he advanced. "Put back my hand, Mikkellana. Replace my hand, and I'll dance you a jig. Until you can do that, don't chide me for bitterness. I see no limbs of yours missing."

"Believe what you will," she said.

"My Lady." Rahg's call seemed a plea.

"What is it?"

"It's just... well, I wanted to ask about Aentarra, about what she said."

Mikkellana stared at Rahg then called him aside. "Do you have what she sought?" She analyzed him. "Yes, you have it. I can see that now. Well, it's too late to worry over, but keep a tight grip on it. Aentarra would peel your skin for that little sliver of crystal." She started to turn away, then stopped. "And by the way, it’s called a Slicer."

Rahg let his hand slip toward the inside of his cloak. "What is it? What does it do?"

Mikkellana paused before responding. "It is a weapon of considerable magnitude. That’s all I can say."

Before he could clear his mind of questions, Mikkellana disappeared.

Rahg's hand found the Slicer, and he shook with fright.