Joely Sue Burkhart

You’ve seen parts of Rose before (originally titled BloodRose), but since it comes out this weekend from Drollerie Press, I thought I’d post a snippet that shows why I love Gregar so much. 

Setup:  This is the day after Rhaekhar defeated Shannari’s army.  All is not sunshine and bunnies despite their first night together.  In fact, he stalked out of the room thoroughly insulted and hasn’t seen her for hours.  This discussion with his two best friends who are also Blood, or bodyguards, worsens his turmoil.

Varne is the nearest Blood, the first of the nine Blood and the last line of defense.

Gregar is the shadowed Blood who used to be a Death Rider, an assassin.

[translation notes, or check the Sha’Kae al’Dan dictionary]

Rhaekhar shaded his eyes against the rising sun and surveyed the green fields to the east and then the river to the southwest. “I’ll leave a fist of my warriors here to maintain control. They can camp across the river closer to the desert without disturbing the outlanders.”

Varne nodded. “As you say, Khul. Who do you leave in command?”

“Athgart. He’s used to command and one of the best scouts. I want the blasted lands beyond the river patrolled regularly. No more outlanders will move in the desert without alerting us immediately.”

Turning, Rhaekhar headed back toward the village. The wooden and stone buildings sat side by side along the muddy stone track. That people lived their entire lives here astonished him. What would Shannari think of the Sha’Kae al’Dan lifestyle, roaming the Sea of Grass as the herds demanded, and setting up Camp in a new place nearly each day?

Thinking of her made him clench his jaw with frustration. Desire pulsed through him, which only angered him more. Even now, he wanted her with an intensity that shamed him.

Walking on his left, Varne cleared his throat. “Khul, may I speak with you regarding the woman?”

Despite his inner turmoil, Rhaekhar did not like the note in his nearest Blood’s tone. “You may speak to me of na’lanna [my beloved] Shannari.”

“I know what you feel for this woman, but… The vision you spoke of from Vulkar, you had it when you were just a lad. Could you be mistaken?”

“Nay, I recognize her scent, I know her blood. She’s mine, Varne. I know it.”

“I don’t like her.” His nearest Blood had never been one to mince words. “I don’t like how she insults you. It will only get worse, Khul. She delights in tormenting you.”

“She is na’lanna.”

“So you say. But is she worth risking your position, your Camp, all Nine Camps?”

Rhaekhar tried to casually brush aside his Blood’s words, but his stomach tightened with unease. Before the Great Wind Stallion, he had sworn to lead the Nine Camps and to protect the Plains at all cost. Surely the gift of na’lanna would not compromise his sworn duty. “Vulkar and the Dark Mare promised her to me.”

“Then They have committed you to the Three Hells. Tehark will use her against you to improve his standing with the other Camps. None of the khuls will appreciate an outlander in their midst, let alone one you threaten to make Khul’lanna. If she loved you, it would be different, Khul, but her animosity is obvious. Even more, I See…”

Each Blood gained special gifts from the Great Wind Stallion when they tasted Khul’s blood sacrifice. Varne’s gift was inner sight, a sense of two paths diverging and which should be taken. “What? What have you seen?”

“Shadows.” The formidable Blood whispered, his face pale as though he saw a great horror. “Shadows hang all about her.”

“Like Gregar’s?”

“Nay, not exactly. These are… darker.”

“Aye,” Gregar answered softly from Rhaekhar’s other side. He spoke with a keen edge to his voice. As if in a dream, he unsheathed his ivory rahke [six inch knife, traditional Sha’Kae al’Dan weapon of honor] and rolled it back and forth on his palm, stroking it lovingly. “Darkness is strongly attracted to her. Her blood Calls to Shadow.”

Varne stepped forward, unsheathing his rahke. “Including you?”

Rhaekhar sucked in his breath and carefully kept his place between the two of them. He didn’t care to see which Blood would be victorious if they came to blows. He needed them both too much.

Still rolling the rahke in his hand, Gregar met Varne’s gaze briefly and then looked into Rhaekhar’s eyes. The day darkened. The rising sun slipped behind a bank of clouds and silence hung heavy in the air. “Aye.”

Goose bumps raced down Rhaekhar’s arms and his scalp itched, hair prickling. Adrenaline pumped through his body. His chest rumbled a growl of aggression, male to male. Every muscle in his body bunched, tensing, ready to prove his dominance.

Another warrior sniffed around his woman. A woman who openly professed she would never love, him or any other for that matter.

Warriors killed each other for lesser offenses.

“Khul, do you want me to challenge him?” Varne’s voice echoed with silky menace.

Gregar smiled, his eyes swallowed by shadows.

Gripping his rahke, fighting the urge to carve out the Blood’s heart for admitting interest in Shannari, Rhaekhar deliberately bit his tongue and the inside of his cheek. The coppery taste of blood sharpened his senses and the small pain cleared some of the red haze. “Don’t be a fool, Varne. If I want his blood, I will challenge him myself.”

Gregar said nothing, but met his gaze unflinchingly. Shadows lengthened on the ground and the silence became oppressive.

Ice dripped down Rhaekhar’s spine. Gregar was Death. He carried Vulkar’s gift of Shadow. If he had truly wanted Khul dead, Rhaekhar would be gasping and bleeding on the ground already. “You said earlier you would rather have the Rose. You knew of whom I spoke even then.”

“Aye.”

Shadows thickened in the air until Rhaekhar couldn’t breathe. Agony shredded his heart. Mine, the dream of the Rose is mine! “What vision were you given of her?”

Gregar shook his head. “Forgive me, Khul, but I shall not say, not unless it will save her life or yours.”

“You are Blood!” Varne retorted, his face a mask of fury. “You swore to sacrifice every single drop of your blood for Khul. If he asks, you will answer him, so I say as nearest Blood.”

“No oath I ever swore, on Khul’s blood or any other, demands I share my personal torment and shame.” Gregar’s voice dripped with disdain. “Let alone with you.”

At least the rising challenge between his two Blood kept his own fighting instinct in check. Rhaekhar pushed Varne in the chest, keeping him back. All these years, Gregar had followed Varne’s lead as nearest Blood without question. One night in the Green Lands and they were ready to challenge each other. “Varne, enough! This is my decision.”

“As you will, Khul,” Varne bit off each word as he grudgingly retreated a step. “It is an honor to serve, even if some have forgotten.”

“I forget nothing,” Gregar whispered. He held Rhaekhar’s gaze a moment longer, and then deliberately bowed his head. “You are my honor, Khul, and I serve you still. The only difference is that I would serve Shannari with honor as well.”

Jealousy roared through Rhaekhar’s veins. His neck corded, his shoulders strained, and he ached to pound this threat into a bloody pulp. Gregar was one of his oldest, most trusted friends, but no warrior relished such competition. If the Blood had not said, “with honor” or had continued staring him in the eyes, then Rhaekhar would have challenged him on the spot. His honor would have accepted nothing less than blood.

“See what damage she has wrought?” Varne said, shaking his head. “She will tear the Nine Camps apart, just as she tears you and your Blood apart. The darkness inside her demands it.”

“There is no darkness without light,” Gregar said softly, carefully raising his gaze with lowered shoulders and softer voice to minimize the challenge. “Your love can be the light for her, Khul, and keep her from falling into Shadow. She bleeds in Shadow and none can save her from her own battles. But you can give her love where otherwise she would know only betrayal and death.”

Shaken, Rhaekhar concentrated on letting his body relax, dropping his shoulders and breathing more freely. The promise of a love like no other was still his and his alone, yet the Blood must have seen many of the same things shown to Rhaekhar in whatever vision he had received of Shannari. Why him instead of Gregar? “Would you have given her betrayal?”

“Nay.” Gregar glared down at the ivory rahke in his hand, his lip curling with hatred. “I shall never betray you, Khul, nor her.”

Somehow, Gregar would have brought her death.

Rhaekhar’s blood chilled.

This time, he couldn’t resist unsheathing his rahke. He wouldn’t challenge Gregar out of jealousy, but he would challenge him to ensure Shannari’s safety.

“She is safe from me now, Khul.” Gregar shrugged but kept his gaze averted. “The oath I swore on your blood ensures it.”

“I still say we should leave her here where she belongs and return to the Plains at once,” Varne said. “You accomplished your goal and none can dispute this kae’don [battle]. Bring that woman home, though, and the disputes will worsen.”

“Only a fool would suggest leaving behind na’lanna.” Instead of Gregar’s usual humor, the underlying ache of loss in his voice stirred pity in Rhaekhar’s heart.

He thought of returning to the Plains without Shannari. His heart thundered in his chest and his stomach twisted. “Never. Where I go, she goes. If there are any kae’don to fight or disputes to settle, I shall do so gladly. If I cannot keep her and win her love, then I am no warrior.”

“Keep her safe, Khul.”

The unspoken threat, Or I shall, hung in the silence. This threat, though, Rhaekhar could tolerate, even approve. Shannari came first. He would dismiss the complication of Gregar’s affections, unless… Gritting his teeth, he pushed the thought away. She came first, in everything. He would do what he must. To signal his acceptance, Rhaekhar sheathed his rahke. “If I had decided to leave without her, what would you have done?”

Gregar laughed and re-sheathed the rahke on his hip. At last, the sun broke through the clouds and the air brightened considerably. The intolerable weight of Death withdrew. “You would have had only eight Blood.”

“Because I would have killed you.” Varne tried to match the other Blood’s lighter tone and failed.

Gregar smiled, a fierce baring of teeth. “Then you would have had only seven Blood, Khul.”

This entry was posted on Thursday, March 6th, 2008 at 9:11 pm and is filed under Friday Snippets, My Books. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can leave a response, or trackback from your own site.