Joely Sue Burkhart

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This is it, gang. I thought I might get one more section of this little story, but Gregar is tired of remembering the past and he dreads the future even more. He much prefers where…and what he’s doing…in Road. So this is the final snippet of The Shadowed Blood.

I would have her live at any cost.

How arrogant and grand a promise when he did not yet know the cost. Sitting on the sandy shore, Gregar stared out over the silvered waters and fought. He fought his pride, his honor, his gift of Death, even his love.

If his control slipped a single moment, he would kill her. Yet he could not bear to let her go. Rocking slightly, he rolled the rahke back and forth across his palm, watching the moonlight gleam on the ivory.

Such a terrible cost. He had thought seeing her alive and well would be enough, but he had not expected her to go to another warrior, let alone his friend, while he was forced to watch from afar, silent and unapproachable.

She may never know your love.

The waters rippled but no breeze stirred his hair. Crystal water clouded to a shadowy murk, sinking within itself to reveal a window. One glimpse of the woman’s face within made his heart gallop, his fingers curling tight about the rahke.

Yet his stomach lurched. He didn’t want to re-live her death again. He didn’t want to smell the scent of her blood, to feel the thick, wet heat on his hands. Not her. Never her.

This vision was different than the Shadowed dream. She wore Sha’Kae al’Dan clothing, and her hair swung short at her shoulders. In his dreams, a thick heavy braid had hung down to the back of her thighs. No Shining Walls met his gaze but the rolling hills of grass and the wide open sky of the Plains. By the emerald green of the memshai about her hips, he knew to whom she belonged. Even now, his pride raged at him to fight and drag her from the warrior who would be Khul of the Nine Camps of the Sha’Kae al’Dan.

However, dozens of outlanders surrounded her, swords threatening her. On foot and armed only with a black rahke, she was hopelessly outnumbered. Where was Khul now to protect her?

Although oceans of time and space separated them, Gregar felt as though he stood a dozen paces away. His muscles strained with effort. He would protect her. He would gut every last outlander that stood between them. Midnight blue eyes met his, glinting with pride, shining with emotion. He dared not call it love, not when she belonged to another.

Her mouth moved, her lips forming his name.

Suddenly, he knew. If he started across that great divide to put his body before hers, to shield her from those who threatened her, he would die this very day. Even a fist of pitiful outlanders would be able to eliminate one Death Rider, unless he used his gift of Shadow to reach her.

And then he would kill her himself.

Rage, regret, and crippling grief billowed through him like clouds racing across a stormy sky. Thunder rolled through his head, the frantic beat of his heart. Winds rushed through his ears, a distant trumpet of the Great Wind Stallion calling him home.

Nothing else mattered but touching her. He would lay his palm against her cheek, and perhaps breathe her scent of roses one last time while the outlanders buried steel in his body. She held something, leaning over him, her face wet with tears. His ivory rahke gleamed in her hand like a captured star, rejoicing it had come home to her at last.

He stretched out his hand, reaching for her through the window.

“Gregar.”

His fingers touched water, wet and cold. Startled, he blinked, searching for the vision. Crystal clear water sparkled in the moonlight.

His Rose was gone.

Throat aching, he slowly turned his attention to the other warrior. The two Calls returned with a vengeance, grating on his bones, splitting his head wide open. Would he be Death Rider or Blood?

Rhaekhar’s face was lined with grief. “My father now gallops across the skies with Vulkar.”

Shakily, Gregar pushed to his feet. He couldn’t resist searching the waters once more. Even a glimpse of her would ease his mind and help him make the decision.

Rhaekhar didn’t wait for his condolences. “Will you join me as Blood?”

She would be so close…and yet so terribly far away. If he swore himself to Khul, he would be a Death Rider no more. Perhaps she would be safe even from him. Certainly, he would never touch her in love. A Blood rarely slept or ate, let alone felt the natural physical needs of any warrior. He must never give voice to the emotion he carried in his heart.

Yet he would die for her.

He would go gladly if only she would press her lips to his on his last breath.

Gregar laughed to keep from falling to his knees in the water and drowning himself in an attempt to reach the vision again. Closing his eyes, he pictured her in his mind once more: pale face, huge dark eyes, chin high and shoulders squared, even when facing a brutal death surrounded by her own countrymen.

He could kill this proud, invincible warrior standing before him and take her for his own.

Which would he prefer: tears of terror in her eyes as he murdered her, or tears of grief at his death?

Her gaze met his, her luscious mouth forming his name.

Na’lanna. My beloved.

Gregar took a deep breath and opened his eyes. Faintly, he caught the scent of his Rose, dripping sweet, sweet blood. He swallowed hard and sheathed the ivory rahke. “Are you sure you want a Shadowed Blood at your back?”

“Aye,” Rhaekhar replied. “I would fight Shadow with Shadow.”

Perhaps he’d had some vision of the woman, too, for she battled Shadow each and every night, as surely as Gregar fought to keep his sanity and his soul intact. Rhaekhar offered his arm, and Gregar clasped him firmly, feeling the other warrior’s strength, weighing the kae’valda in his hair. He would not only be a renowned Khul, but also a fitting warrior for his…the…Rose.

Shannari is my Rose no more.

“It’s an honor to serve, Khul.”

 

This entry was posted on Friday, April 18th, 2008 at 4:00 am and is filed under Friday Snippets. 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.