Pelya

By John H. Carroll

Book 3 of the Dralin Trilogy:

At the age of nineteen, Pelya Jornin is a master of the sword. Her best friend, Lady Ebudae Pallon, has a talent in the arcane arts far beyond her age. The two young women have spent their youth exploring Dralin and ruins beneath the city.

Sir Imbra, a holy knight of the Goddess Reanna, has told Pelya since she was a child that he would one day need her help. That day has come as a new force in the city threatens the future of all.

Pelya has been raised within the Dralin City Guard since birth, but her position, and her life, is now in peril. Pelya’s father asks for help from someone who may be more dangerous than any other threat to his daughter.

Will Pelya’s sword arm be enough to battle a force beyond anything she’s seen? Will Ebudae’s power overcome the might of potent magic? In a city filled with despair, can the hopes and efforts of such talented individuals win the day?
The Dralin Trilogy is a dark, swords-and-sorcery fantasy series following the lives of a few unusual individuals as they desperately try to survive in the sinister city of Dralin.

• Language: English
• Publisher: John H. Carroll
• Release date: Nov 29, 2012
• ISBN: 9781301263387

John H. Carroll

John H. Carroll was the youngest of seven children and was born in Atlanta, Georgia in 1970 where he was kept in a dresser drawer with the clean socks. Luckily, he wasn’t kept with the dirty socks or else he might have grown up to become slightly warped.As a child, John spent most of his time wandering through the Mojave Desert in an attempt to avoid people. He would stare at the sky, imagining what it would be like to explore different worlds. One of his favorite memories is watching his dad build the fuselage of Evel Kneivel’s skycycle in their garage. One of his least favorite moments was watching that skycycle fall into the Snake River. (Not his dad’s fault and he has documentation to prove it, so nyah)As a teenager, John spent most of his time driving wherever he could in an attempt to avoid people. He would stare at the road, imagining what it would be like to explore different worlds. He was the captain of the chess team, lettered in golf and band while in high school, and wasn’t beaten up anywhere near as much as one might imagine.As an adult, John spends most of his time staring at a computer screen in an attempt to avoid people. He stares at the monitor for hours, imagining what it would be like to explore different worlds. Occasionally, he looks around to see what’s happening on planet Earth. Quite frankly, it frightens him. He’s just going to do his best to write as many books as he can before aliens disintegrate humanity for being so irritating.Emo bunny minions surround John at most times. He is their imaginary friend and they look to him for guidance. At one point, they took over the world. No one noticed because they left everything exactly as it was. They gave the world back after a week because it was depressing.The Ryallon Series is his most popular endeavor into the field of writing. His Stories for Demented Children have lightened the hearts of many strange children and adults. He writes in the evenings and weekends whenever possible.

Book preview

Map of Nulanea

Prologue

Sir Hamil Imbra, Knight Champion of the Goddess Reanna, floated high above the glasslike waters of Wraith Lake where the wisps of chaos drifting over its surface couldn’t reach. His orange cloak fluttered behind him and his shining armor glistened in the sun that warmed his shoulder.

Ahead of him was City Center. It was a deceptive name for a large hole in the ground, one of eight channels in the world. Tendrils of power drifting up through the channel from the center of Ryallon passed tendrils coming down from the energies in the universe above the sky. Those energies flowed around the world and were commonly called the mists of magic.

Extensive enchantments covered a series of three high walls surrounding City Center. They protected Dralin from being warped by the power of the channel. They also kept the waters of Wraith Lake, which bordered a third of City Center, from falling in. Dralin Academy, a colossal series of castles and other buildings, bordered the second section of City Center. The Estate of the Grand Assembly bordered the final third.

Red beams pulsated from within the channel. As Imbra watched, they grew larger. Evil resided within the beams, hungry evil that feasted upon the energies.

The sun warming his shoulder spoke. This is the evil you shall battle, Champion.

***

Imbra sat up in bed, drenched in sweat. He wiped his forehead with a sleeve of his cotton nightshirt. Yes, my beautiful Goddess. I will destroy the evil.

Judging by the sunlight leaking past the heavy curtains, it was afternoon. While he worshipped Reanna, the Goddess of the Sun, she tended to keep him awake if he didn’t use curtains. Imbra usually slept during the day because he spent his nights fighting creatures of evil in the ruins underneath the city of Dralin.

He swung his feet over the edge of the bed and stretched. Aches and pains from years of battles protested the movement. With a groan, he stood and twisted each way to the sound of popping in his spine.

Wonderful. I’m getting old. How silly of me.

A cat Imbra had rescued from the Ruins long ago looked up from the bottom of the bed. She had a petite face and a dainty dark-pink nose. Her thick fur and tail had tabby stripes with a tan undercoat beneath. Mixed in were longer, silver-tipped hairs. Meow. Her meow was more of a squeak.

Imbra rubbed the sleep out of his sky-blue eyes and smiled at her. Hello there, Little Bird. Did you sleep well? Her name was Rosey, but he called her Little Bird for the squeaks.

Meow, Rosey squeaked and stared adoringly into his eyes.

Yes. I know. We’re both getting old, Little Bird. Imbra scratched her whiskers and leaned down for a loving head bump.

Her purr made up for the lack of volume in her meows.

However, I have to go swing my big stick at vile creatures that threaten the world while you sit here in bed soaking up the warmth. Not that I blame you. He stood straight and brushed shoulder-length blonde hair out of his face with his fingers.

Meow.

Yes, you’re absolutely right. You’re much wiser than I am. Imbra chuckled. I’ll send Aphry in with your lunch.

Rosey purred in response.

Imbra opened the curtain, allowing daylight to fall on his large room. Even after all the years of being High Champion of Reanna, he didn’t feel entirely comfortable in it. The carpets were soft and the tapestries were magnificent with scenes of sunlit cities, forests or fields. His bed was fit for a king and the furniture was made by the best artisans. All of it had been donated to the church over the years. Reanna wasn’t as popular as many of the gods, but she did have her supporters and the healing done by her priests made many converts, though healing was never performed for that purpose.

After washing up and trimming his beard and mustache, he went to the closet to put on a blue shirt and white pants. The shirt had a golden sun embroidered on it just like all of his other shirts. Imbra couldn’t remember the last time he had worn something without a sun on it.

A stand in the corner held shining plate mail armor, but he wouldn’t put that on until it was time for battle. He also left his giant sword in its stand as he walked out of his room into the small office where people could leave messages or arrange meetings.

A woman behind a desk rose to her feet. Auburn hair flowed in waves down her back. Piercings dotted her ears, one eyebrow and the right side of the upper lip. Her most striking feature was a tattoo of thin, green scrollwork along her left jaw from the chin to ear. Good afternoon, Sir Imbra. Did you sleep well?

Well enough. How are you today, Aphry?

She smiled. Busy! There have been more requests than usual for you to fight evil within the city. Most of it is the usual, a bandit group or a ghost making bumps, but there are a few that might be important enough for you to take a look at. I’ve spent all morning organizing them by which ones I think will interest you.

Imbra leaned on the edge of his own desk, opposite hers. It was clean because he rarely spent time at it, while Aphry’s had pages and scrolls filled with notes and messages. You make my job easier than it’s ever been. Thank you.

Aphry ducked her head. It’s the least I can do for you since you let me stay.

Have you gone into the city at all, Aphry? Imbra worried about her. A number of years earlier, she had been rescued from torture. Pelya Jornin, a good friend of Imbra’s, had brought her to the Temple of Reanna for care.

I tried once, but I couldn’t . . . Aphry lifted her head, revealing haunted dark-green eyes. Please don’t make me.

Imbra softened his voice. I’ve already promised you I won’t, and I keep my promises. I just worry about you.

I’m doing better. I even dance sometimes when I’m alone. Aphry tried to smile. I used to love dancing.

Pelya told me that. Is there anything I can do to make dancing easier for you?

No. You’ve been wonderful. Just don’t make me leave. I’ll do anything. Desperation caused her voice to waver.

You’re safe here, Aphry. Imbra headed off her rising panic. You mentioned that the reports were in the city, what about the ruins below? Have the scouts found extra activity there?

Relief flooded Aphry’s face at the change of subject. She moved to her chair and looked at a note on the desk. "On the contrary, the scouts say that everything has become quiet. Sir Gratham went out yesterday and said that it was too quiet, almost as though the monsters were hiding from something. She looked up. What do you think it means?"

Imbra slapped his thigh. I think it means something big is about to happen. Those notes are going to wait for a few days, Aphry. Right now, I need to speak to Appana. He headed toward the door. Please feed Rosey for me?

Of course, Sir Imbra.

Imbra turned left down a hall with detailed statues between marble columns. The hallway was circular, intersecting six domed buildings that surrounded the central church. Banners emblazoned with sun emblems hung from the columns while tapestries with scenes of epic battles lined the walls.

He didn’t have to go far before reaching a wooden door decorated with a glazed depiction of a sun shining on trees. A skinny man behind a desk next to it stood and bowed. Welcome, Sir Imbra. Her Eminence is at her desk, I believe.

Thank you, Gobo. Imbra paused. I don’t suppose lunch is still available?

I’ll see to it that you’re brought some.

Thank you. Imbra went through the door into a bright office with banners of the Sun Goddess and tapestries similar to the ones in his room. Like him, Appana preferred pleasant images of sun-drenched landscapes rather than knights with the blood of monsters dripping off their blades. A desk sat in front of a hearth with a small crackling fire. Appana’s elbows were on the desk and her hands held the sides of her head as she stared at a scroll with incomprehension.

Feeling cold, Eminence? Imbra grinned.

"Don’t call me that! Appana said in a voice bigger than her frail body. Sun-kissed blonde hair flowed around her beautiful face and down her back. A light-blue robe offset her pink eyes. In the middle of it was a sun the color of her hair. I hate being Archpriestess. Ever since they forced the job on me three months ago, I’ve done more reading than I have the rest of my life. And yes, I’m cold. You’d think an Archpriestess of the Sun Goddess would be warm, but no, not me."

Maybe if you had a little more meat on your bones, you wouldn’t get cold so easily. The words came out of Imbra’s mouth before he thought about them. He mentally cursed himself when she placed her hands on the desk and leaned forward.

Appana’s jaw jutted in anger. "My bones pay their duty to Reanna. My skin and my muscles give of themselves to heal you and everyone I can lay my hands on. My soul dies a little every time a person loses their life. I do not neglect food and sleep. They neglect me!"

She walked over to a sitting area where a couch and some chairs surrounded a low table. Appana picked up a woolen blanket, wrapped it around herself and curled up in the chair. Then she stared out the nearby window.

I’m sorry. Imbra moved to another window next to the first and looked out at the garden. I know all of that. I tend to be an idiot when I speak shortly after waking up.

And the rest of the time, Appana mumbled.

Imbra didn’t turn around. I heard that.

You were meant to, Appana said in a singsong voice.

Imbra chuckled and sat down in a chair facing her. Have things been that hard for you?

Appana sighed and waved a hand weakly. I’m not made for papers and diplomacy. I’m made for healing people. It’s all I care about. She closed her eyes and lifted her head. Radiance shone from her skin. I am complete when Reanna’s light bathes me in its warmth and I become a vessel for her will.

There was a covered platter on the table. Imbra lifted the cover and saw that most of the food was still there. He snitched a tart from it. Speaking of her Divine Sunniness, she brought me a dream.

Appana focused her gaze on him. Oh? Do tell.

Imbra told her about the dream down to the last detail.

Appana shivered and sank down even more in the blanket. I don’t like it.

Neither do I. Imbra slumped in his chair, letting his arms hang over the sides and his feet sprawl out.

There was a knock at the door. An instant later, Gobo opened it to let in one of the kitchen staff.

Appana’s blanket now lay on the floor next to the chair. She showed no sign of weakness or the chill she surely felt. She sat up straight and thanked the servant who set the tray on the table next to Imbra.

When the door closed, Appana wrapped herself in the blanket again. You said there was a red pulsing light coming from City Center?

The sense of evil emanating from it was intense, greater than any I’ve felt before.

Considering how much evil you’ve dispatched, that’s quite the statement. Appana frowned. The scouts have reported that things are quiet in the Ruins recently too.

Aphry told me that before I came here. Imbra leaned forward eagerly. It looks like I know what we’ll be doing tonight.

Appana shook her head. Not tonight. I have a ceremony to perform for harvest. It’s not something I can get out of.

Imbra held out his arms in disbelief. If this evil conquers the world, then nobody will have a harvest. Besides, we’re in the middle of the largest city in the world. There are no harvests.

Evil won’t conquer the world in one day and it doesn’t matter if there’s a harvest in the city or not. It’s still important. The sun shines everywhere on Ryallon and it’s especially beautiful when the colors of the leaves match all those of the sunset. Appana sighed contentedly. At times, I wish I could be a simple girl in a country church, helping the farmers.

That sounds horrid. There are no monsters to battle on farms.

You can fight rats.

Imbra stared at her in horror.

Appana laughed brightly. Our brave knight is afraid of rats!

Imbra jumped to his feet, appalled by the statement. You take that back! I’m not afraid of anything.

The laughter stopped. Appana looked to see if he was serious.

I pride myself on my bravery. I’d fight every rat in the world if that was Reanna’s wish. Imbra realized how silly he sounded. His face reddened in embarrassment. I mean . . .

It is my turn to apologize. I would never question your bravery, my friend. She gestured for him to sit. You are correct in that we need to fight this evil, but I think we need a plan. Let’s get up at a reasonable time tomorrow. I’ll have Sir Gratham join us.

Imbra nodded. Good idea. I have a feeling . . .

Oh?

We need Pelya. It’s time.

Appana sat forward. Are you certain?

Since the first day I saw her wrapped in her father’s arms, I’ve known it. There have been signs since then. Signs that I would need her help against an unidentified evil. Imbra moved to the window. "Signs that let me know that I will die fighting that evil if she doesn’t help me. Perhaps even if she is there to help me . . ."

Chapter 1

Year 1939, Fifth Age

Being three years after the events of Ebudae

Well Sornin, I’m beginning to think that everyone in Dralin has decided to become honest today. Pelya grinned as she leaned against a lamppost on the sidewalk. Activity bustled along the street and a breeze lazily carried the sounds of the city through the air.

Sornin responded with a snort. Brown hair framed his narrow face and he always wore a severe expression. Pelya trusted him implicitly though, especially since he had protected her back more than once, as she had his.

You shouldn’t ask for trouble, Pelya. Our shift’s only half done. There’ll be plenty to go around at some point or another. Sornin straightened the collar of a polished chain shirt that peeked out from underneath the standard-issue black and brown tunic of the Dralin City Guard. And thinking that everyone stopped committing crimes is pure fantasy.

Their squad was patrolling the Orange Sash District, named after orange sashes worn by perfume-laden prostitutes to mark their profession. Garishly painted bordellos lined the street and women called out from windows to potential clients below.

At the moment, they were in the center of the district where the clientele tended towards middle-class workers. Ornate mansions catered to rich customers in the northern section of the district while run-down parlor houses were in the south.

Scantily clad male and female prostitutes on the street encouraged potential customers to enter the bordellos. Most were respectful to the guardmembers who kept them safe, or as safe as it was possible to keep anyone in the most dangerous city on the world of Ryallon.

Pelya stood straight and tugged on her black braid. Come now Sornin, we’re in for a long, evening. It wouldn’t hurt to let a smile crack those lips of yours.

He gave her a slight smile, more than most people received.

Pelya’s sapphire-blue eyes sparkled in the late afternoon sun as she checked everyone’s positions. There were six people in her unit, loosely organized, ready for battle if needed. They walked the cobbled street without a specific formation to be less predictable. A month earlier, on her nineteenth birthday, Pelya had become unit leader. Sornin was her unit-buddy and second in charge. The other three units in their squad were within hearing distance of the whistle around Pelya’s neck. It made a piercing signal that carried over the sounds of the busy streets.

Pelya had spent her entire life in Dralin, raised by her father in the barracks of the City Guard. She had taken to the sword as soon as she could lift one and was currently the youngest swordmaster in the Guard. It was what she had striven for, but recently she had come to regret that decision.

Everywhere Pelya looked, people suffered. Dralin had more crime than anywhere else in the world from what she had been told. Patrolling the streets had made her believe it. She couldn’t count how many murders she had helped investigate in the last year and that number didn’t compare to kidnappings and disappearances.

She looked around at the lurid buildings. What couldn’t be seen from the street was the corruption that resulted in innocent young women being conscripted by criminal predators. There were more gangs in Dralin than the City Guard could handle. The best that could be done was to hold crime at bay so that it didn’t completely overrun the citizens. It wasn’t enough for Pelya, but she didn’t know how to do more.

A group of men shouting nearby broke her out of her reverie. They were exchanging bawdry comments with a group of prostitutes on a balcony. There was nothing that needed to be done. Thus far, the shift had started more peacefully than any she could remember.

The weather was pleasant with the heat of summer gone. Rainfall the day before had washed much of the normal pollution into the gutters, leaving the smog lighter than usual. Fall colors covered the trees and the threat of winter was still far away. Pelya looked up at the puffy clouds in the sky and stretched.

Does your father know Captain Zephan has you stationed in the Orange Sash? Yobi, a veteran guardsman, asked.

Yes. He’s mad about it too. But he needs to understand that he can’t protect me from doing my job. Pelya remembered the yelling match they had about it the week before.

Yobi shook his head in amazement. I wouldn’t want to cross him. I like working for Captain Zephan, but she’s crazy for giving you this assignment.

Joll, his unit-buddy, smacked Yobi on the shoulder with the back of her hand. Watch what you say. Joll was a short, young woman who was intimidated by Pelya’s six-foot frame.

"Daddy unnerves most people, although it is a bad idea to cross him." Pelya winked, more than happy to protect her father’s reputation. She didn’t like Joll much; the woman wouldn’t look her in the eye.

A muffled scream seized their attention. Joll pointed down a side street. A woman, taken into the alley by a group of thugs! Before she finished speaking, they all had their swords drawn and ready. Not far down the street was a carriage with a broken wheel. The driver who was checking the wheel saw them coming and took off in the other direction.

Pelya shouted orders as they dashed toward the alley. Ignore the driver. Watch for surprises! Protect each other! Pelya gave her whistle two sharp tweets and a long one to let the other units in the squad know that they were investigating trouble.

Curious bystanders scurried out of the way. The Dralin City Guard had a system for pursuit and the speed with which the well-trained warriors moved was remarkable.

A sharp turn into the trash-littered alley revealed the kidnappers dragging the struggling woman through the back door of a smog-blackened building. The door slammed shut behind them.

Pelya led the rush forward. When they reached the grimy door, two of her unit stepped to either side and prepared for entrance. Sornin tossed a runeball that would detect if there were wards on the door. It floated in front of the doorway for a moment, shining with a greenish light as it spun and did its magic. All was clear.

Sornin retrieved the ball just as Pelya blew two long tweets on her whistle followed by a short one to indicate to the rest of the squad that her unit was entering a building. She shattered the old door with a kick of her muscular leg.

Pelya let her eyes grow accustomed to the gloom as she moved inside a short hall with chipped paint on the worn walls. She headed toward a door at the end, forgoing the two on the sides. Sornin, entering behind her, signaled for the others to be ready for battle. They advanced in staggered formation.

Sornin tossed the runeball at the door. It flashed with red light as it drew in magical energy before disintegrating. Detecting and disarming the ward had used up its enchantment.

Sornin and Pelya exchanged worried glances. Red light indicated an alarm ward. Even though it was disarmed, anyone inside would know someone was at the door. Pelya felt uneasy about walking into a certain ambush, but the circumstances required instant action.

With another well-placed kick, she broke down the door. Sornin dashed in with Pelya right behind. They moved to either side of the doorway leaving a path for the rest of the unit to enter.

Ten fighters waited for them in the surprisingly large room. The sight of expensive furnishings made it clear to Pelya that this was a place for criminal operations. In contrast to the hallway outside, the walls had fresh paint, tapestries and expensive carpets.

A blonde man standing behind a desk glared at the intruders as though they were flies on his dinner. He wore a fancy purple shirt, black pants and a fine sword at the hip. Two men next to the desk held the kidnapped woman.

Sornin yelled, Dralin City Guard! Put down your weapons!

The fighters lifted their swords higher and crouched, ready for battle. Pelya realized they would fight, an undesirable outcome. No one needs to get hurt! We just have questions. Joll and Yobi came through the door and moved forward, making space for the last two in the unit.

A woman in yellow robes moved her hands in precise motions while a supernatural casting wind whipped her hair around her face.

Pelya and Sornin realized why the fighters were holding back. Magic! they both shouted. In unison, Pelya’s unit cast fast protective spells, taught as standard training in the Guard. It would complement protections already built into their uniforms. They were just in time, saving them from the effects of the woman’s spell.

Pelya drew and flung a knife made to pierce magical defenses. The wizardess had already begun another spell and wasn’t able to dodge the flying blade as it pierced her throat. The gathered energy burst and sent her lifeless body flying against the wall.

Five, Pelya thought to herself. That was how many people she had killed in her life, a number she hated. She blew two sharp bursts on her whistle, the signal that they were engaging in battle. Pelya prayed the sound would reach the rest of the squad outside.

The battle began. Their foes were not amateurs, but few people were good enough to match a member of Dralin’s Guard. Pelya had two men to deal with immediately. Her sword darted through the air faster than her opponents could parry. One fell. Six, a number she hated more than five.

She stalled the other man with rapid parries. Joll was down and would never get up again. The rest were hard pressed. Grunts and clashing steel filled the air.

Two more foes engaged Pelya. She finished off the one she had stalled, seven, and focused on the next. A quick move here and another there, the two were wounded.

Pelya reevaluated the situation and realized another of her unit was down. As she killed another attacker, eight, Albin, a third member of her unit also fell. Sornin and Yobi stood with her against the three hardened fighters that remained, their friends lying dead next to the fallen guardmembers.

The blonde man moved forward, Albin’s blood dripping from his blade. Ruthless brown eyes took measure of the intruders. His nostrils flared as he closed the distance.

It was against policy for every member of a unit to die. At least one of them had return to the squad and report the incident. Report, Yobi! Now! Pelya yelled.

Yobi dashed through the doorway, but three fighters waiting in the hall blocked him. Sornin hastened to help clear the escape route. Pelya stood in the doorway and protected their retreat.

The stranger with the hard eyes was in front of Pelya. His sword clashed against hers. Sparks of light and color flashed, showing that both blades contained magic. He was a swordmaster and his enchanted blade effortlessly met every stroke of hers.

Her thrusts and parries became more desperate with each blow. She tumbled to the side, coming up for better position. One of the other fighters attempted to take advantage of the move. A fast dodge put her behind the man. She pushed him forward. Without blinking, the swordmaster ran the man through and shoved him to the ground.

The swordmaster’s blade met hers again with a supernatural speed. Closer and closer it came, as though the blade itself wished to drink of her blood. He focused on Pelya with intensity, never giving her an opening. There was power and experience in his arm. He had spent more time wielding a sword than she.

Pelya sensed movement behind her. She nimbly rolled out of danger. A wicked thrust missed her back. Pelya sprang from the roll just in time to see the mysterious swordmaster kill the treacherous fighter for interfering in his battle.

There is a moment after a person kills someone when they pause to take in the shock of it. The hardest killer may have it down to an instant, but it is there.

Pelya struck in that moment, a quick thrust, tight and deadly. It missed. Anyone else would have died.

Pain stung Pelya’s cheek as she jerked her head back and tumbled away. The swordmaster’s blade was sharp. Pelya ignored the blood flowing down the side of her face and attacked. The swordmaster smiled cruelly as he parried the blows.

The next slash cut her thigh. Another cut the back of her hand as she tumbled and failed to take out his hamstring with a spinning swing.

He was too fast. His blade bit into her forehead when her sword moved too slowly to counter. Blood flowed past her eyes, impairing her vision.

Pelya’s back grew warm. Time slowed.

Her blade met the man’s sword and darted forward to slash his chin.

The swordmaster was surprised, but he parried her next blow. He was more surprised when another cut through his shirt to the skin of his chest.

Time slowed even more as their blades clashed repeatedly, neither gaining the advantage. The warmth on Pelya’s back increased, spreading into her bones.

Shadows watched intently.

They separated. The swordmaster rolled toward the desk while Pelya rolled toward the door. For an instant, the opponents stared with the intensity of suns, memorizing every detail about each other.

The swordmaster dashed through a secret door held open by one of his fighters. It closed behind them.

Pelya took a step forward before realizing that more guardmembers were now in the room and that the remaining fighters had been subdued. The kidnapped woman was crying into the shoulder of a Guard.

Pelya! Sornin said. Pelya!

Everything was surreal as she turned to face him.

Normalcy came rushing in, causing her to stagger. The heat on her back and in her bones lessened. The shadows slipped into themselves.

Squad Sergeant Herman Melvor appeared next to her and grabbed her arm in concern. Pelya. Are you all right? You’re bleed . . . By the gods . . . Your cuts are disappearing! What healing magic is that?

Pelya’s jaw clenched shut. The dragon mark on her back prevented her from speaking. It had slowed time and improved her reflexes during the battle. Now it healed her wounds, but it also prevented her from talking about it. She and her friend Ebudae had received the marks at the age of eleven after saving the child of a dragon. Most of the time she didn’t even remember it was there, so insidious was the geas that prevented her from revealing its presence.

Squad Corporal Jecks touched fingers to Pelya’s sword in a calming motion. I’ve never seen anyone move so fast, you or him. Concern lit his grey eyes and filled his thick voice. His uniform was immaculate as always. He did everything by the book.

Pelya wiped and sheathed her sword. She still couldn’t respond. Sornin put a supportive hand on her shoulder while Yobi stood behind her protectively.

One of the squad wizards was trying to figure out the secret door while the other helped the squad healer look after the fallen guardmembers. Pelya realized that Sornin and Yobi were the only ones who survived.

Squad Sergeant Melvor was average height with brown hair, unremarkable in most ways, which made him dangerous because his opponents tended to dismiss or underestimate him. Added to that, he fought dirty. He had helped Pelya’s father raise her and she normally called him Uncle Herman. His brown eyes showed that he wanted to protect her, but he was being professional. Report, Unit Leader,

It helped. Pelya’s jaw unlocked and she relayed the details of the incident. The unit heard a woman scream and began pursuit of two men who were dragging that woman into an alley. Pelya pointed at the woman who was still sobbing into the shoulder of a guardsman. The guardsman looked at Sergeant Melvor with pleading eyes.

The sergeant ignored the look, leaving the man to suffer. Go on, Pelya. What happened next?

We saw them enter this building. Pelya paused, still breathing hard from exertion. After Sornin checked the door for wards, I broke it down and led my unit into the building. I whistled . . .

Sergeant Melvor nodded. We heard your whistles.

We went through the hallway to this door and discovered an alarm ward on it. The runeball deactivated it and I kicked in the door.

Did you check the side doors in the hallway? Corporal Jecks asked.

I didn’t. A sinking feeling tugged her stomach. She remembered the fighters who had come behind them. My instincts told me the woman was in this room and that we needed to get to her as fast as possible.

Corporal Jecks nodded. Pelya couldn’t tell if he approved or disapproved. He was hard to read.

There were ten armed fighters in the room, a wizard, the two kidnappers, the kidnapped woman and the man I was fighting. Pelya stared at the secret door. The squad wizard still hadn’t figured it out.

One of the guardsmen examining the bodies of the fighters stood and came over. A few of these fighters were once soldiers from the Kingdom of Deller. I recognize tattoos on the base of the neck given to everyone who joins their army. Theirs have additional marks to indicate that they were discharged dishonorably.

Good work, Private Wibben. Sergeant Melvor frowned. Do you have any idea why ex-soldiers from Deller would be here, Pelya?

No, Sergeant. Sornin called for them to put away their weapons and I told them we just wanted to ask questions, but the wizardess cast a spell at us. Pelya pointed at the body. We warded ourselves, which protected us from the first spell. I didn’t know if the wards would hold up against another.

Nice shot, Corporal Jecks said. That’s your knife in her neck, right?

Yes. The odds were against us and the wizardess immediately began casting another spell. I believed it to be the only option.

Corporal Jecks gave a sharp nod of approval. Good decision. It was the highest praise Pelya had heard him give anyone.

What happened then? Sergeant Melvor asked.

The fighters attacked us and there was no time to do anything but fight back. They were skilled. She looked at Joll’s body.

Private Wibben