Chapter One
Autumn Equinox, mid-afternoon of the last day of the
Reign of Xywellan and Queen Kara
Vren crawled under the low pines to the edge of the ridge, keeping to his belly, his head down. The branches above him swayed in the wind, the movement helping to hide him. Dried needles shifted beneath him as he slowly lifted his head. The cool breeze hit his face, whisked away the sharp scent of pine, and replaced it with the stench of blood, smoke, and death.
The battlefield stretched out below him, filled with the heave of a pulsing mass of men and horses. The airion and wyvern banners were the only way to track the sides in the chaos and haze. Beyond that stood the House Airion camp, command tent at its center, flags flying. Beyond that lay the walls of Edenrich, where worried sentries no doubt stared toward the battle.
Vren’s stomach clenched, in fear but also dread at what he had to do. He was of the marcusi.Be the wind, be the shadow, be the blade, be the silence of the night. How in the name of all the elements could he rescue a pregnant Queen from this nightmare?
A warm weight pressed against his leg, a soft whine rising to his ears as Dust crawled up to rest next to him. The vore was so large she stretched the length of his body.
The vore were fearsome fighters, true enough, with jaws that could crush a skull with a snap, but she too had no place on a battlefield. Her ears were flat to her head, taking in the sight with an intelligence equal to his own.
Although she would claim she was far smarter than any human.
He buried his fingers in Dust’s coarse guard hairs, sinking them into her soft under-coat and giving a nervous tug.
Dust nudged him with her wet nose.
“King Xywellan’s forces are losing,” Vren whispered. “The Wyverns will take the day.” Out of habit, he glanced for the sun but saw only the low, brooding clouds. “Probably before nightfall.”
The vore growled low, voicing her concerns. He could feel the vibration through his fingers.
“I know,” he agreed. “But I am summoned, and I am sworn to heed that call. I have to try.” He hesitated. “You’d best stay here. I know not what awaits me—”
Sharp teeth gleamed in the shadows as the vore jerked her head and snapped at his chin. He flinched out of instinct, but she never meant for those dagger-like teeth to strike him. Just wanted to let him know what she thought of his suggestion.
Vren shook his head. “Dust, I am serious. We each have our own missions. I am called to aid a pregnant Queen Kara in the midst of a battle. You are not, and the Wyverns would kill you on sight. It’s too dangerous—”
The vore shoved her muzzle under his chin. Vren sighed and buried his face in her fur for a moment, breathing in her warmth and scent.
“Together then.” He cast his eyes toward the low gleam in the sky that marked the setting sun behind the clouds, and started to crawl backwards.
They skirted the battlefield, making a wide curve so as not to be drawn into the great sea of combat, avoiding men and horses at all costs.
Vren noted the blue and white airion banners falling and the red and gold wyvern flags still waving in the wind.
Battle had already reached the camp in the form of looters intent on spoils. If any saw Vren, which was doubtful given his skill, they paid him no mind. But the command tent still held, with warhorses outside, saddled and waiting. Vren kept a wary eye on the beasts, but felt some relief at the sight; no doubt they were preparing to take the Queen to safety. He and Dust could act as the rear guard, covering their tracks and killing any pursuers.
Vren gave the horses a wide berth and used the shadows, only stepping into the light when he and Dust reached the entrance.
A fierce woman with hard eyes challenged his approach; her gaze flicked from him to the vore beside him. Not that Vren blamed her; vore were a rare sight, and enough to take any aback. At first glance a large dog, and then not, with the square jaw of a demon-spawn, bright fangs, and the focus of a killer. Dust drew the eye more than his own lanky frame.
“I am of the marcusi.” Vren spoke, which caught the woman’s attention. She frowned at him. “I am summoned,” he added and held out his token.
“Captain,” the guard called over her shoulder, and another emerged from the tent, her eyes even harder. She gave Vren a nod, produced a similar token, and held out her hand for his.
The two pieces fit together with a click, creating a small figurine. A black panther with crystal blue eyes.
“Come,” she said, turning back into the tent.
He followed, the vore at his side.
The tent was stifling. In the outer chamber warriors, all women, were arming themselves. Each one raked him with a glance, assessing and dismissing him. He was content that it be so. They had second glances for the vore, and those held respect and caution.
He was content with that as well.
