Rabiah, book 1: The Gift

By Lisa Lagaly

“Is she asleep?” Owen asked from behind him.
“Yes.”
Owen peered over Tristan’s shoulder.
“Look at that hair. She must be a witch.”
“She’s not a witch.”
“How do you know?” Owen gestured toward her. “Look at her. Look what you’ve tied yourself to. Turn her in now and be done with it.”
“Owen, beyond the hair, what do you see when you look at her?”
“Ambition, aggression, violence.”
“That’s not what you said earlier. Does her aura look tainted?”
“Well no, but if she’s a witch she could be hiding it.”
“Why would she? How many people have your gift?”
“You told her about my gift. That’s supposed to be a secret.”
“I’m sorry. That’s the first and only time I have ever told anyone. It just seemed right to tell her.”
“Why do you always jump into these situations? Why can’t you think things through?”
“When have I ever jumped into something like this? And I did think it through. Owen, you don’t understand. I’ve never felt that when I’ve kissed someone before. Never. We were in a different place. I think I saw her soul. It was beautiful.”
Owen snorted. “First, I don’t recall that you've kissed many girls. Second, that’s probably part of the spell.”
“I didn’t hear her casting any spells.”
“She probably did it beforehand. It was her plan to snare you all along.”
“Yes, disguising herself as a boy, then breaking her leg as she tried to run from me definitely sounds like a plan.”

• Language: English
• Publisher: Lisa Lagaly
• Release date: Jan 9, 2017
• ISBN: 9780998548203

Book preview

Rabiah

the Gift

Lisa Lagaly

LL Publishing

Copyright © 2017 by Lisa Lagaly

All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof

may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever

without the express written permission of the publisher

except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

Published in the United States of America

First Printing, 2017

ISBN 9780998548210

LL Publishing

[e-mail]

Dedicated to my wonderful family

and to the Lord

Who has given me so much.

Chapter 1

The enemy’s blade fell again, jarring her shoulders as she deflected it. Her arms felt like lead. She stumbled back and barely got her blade up in time to block a swing at her head. He was the last soldier standing. She just had to beat one more. She sent up another quick prayer. "Spirit help me."

"Sometimes you have to run away to live to fight another day," her brother’s parting words echoed through her head.

Her opponent didn’t seem tired at all even though the fighting had been nearly constant since late afternoon. Was that his gift – to never grow tired? The only way she’d be able to escape was to injure him somehow. He was too well-protected and she was too tired and clumsy to get in a killing blow. She slipped her left hand stealthily to her waist and grabbed the hilt of her throwing knife while she dodged another swipe of his sword. As soon as he lifted his blade to strike again, she made a quick underhand motion and sent her knife hurtling toward her opponent’s unguarded thigh. Without waiting to see if she hit her target, she spun around and tried to run. Her foot caught on something and she fell. There was a snap in her calf as she landed heavily on her hip and arm in the packed dirt of the battlefield. Momentarily shocked by the pain, she didn’t fight as a hand on her shoulder forced her roughly onto her back. Something shifted in her leg and a cry tore out of her before she could stop it. Against the fading blue of the sky she could see the outline of the soldier’s helmet and the hilt of the blade as it rose above her heart. Time slowed down. Was this really it? She wasn’t ready to die. "Great Spirit, take me." She thrust her chest forward. If she had to die, then she’d do it well. The blade began to descend and she shut her eyes. Her world shrunk to the spot on her chest where the steel would enter and the pain would begin, then just as quickly end, she hoped. The moment stretched impossibly long. There was a thump on the ground beside her, then something soft touched her lips. Startled, she raised her hand to push it away but changed her mind by the time she reached the metal arching over the stubbly cheek. It was a gentle kiss, almost shy, not like he meant to hurt her. And it was…it was…she couldn’t think of a way to describe it. Something in her middle tingled. The pain and exhaustion she felt from running and hiding and fighting the last few days were pushed back. It was as if everything belonged in some other place, to some other life, and she had risen above it. There was someone on the other side of those lips. Someone else with his own life behind him coming forward to meet her. She pressed her lips harder against his, trying to understand. How could a kiss make her feel so light? Without warning, the lips moved away, leaving her drifting. Pain and fatigue pulled her down and she crashed to the ground in the dark field surrounded by her dead and dying Clansmen. Her enemy leaned back on his knees. His chin and lips were barely visible in the dark beneath the helmet he wore as he leaned forward again to touch her cheek. She grabbed his fingers.

Who are you? he asked, sounding as confused as she felt. His accent was strong but not as irritating as some of the Arlenians she’d run across.

No one. Her voice came out as a whisper.

He turned in the direction of a distant yell, then back to her.

Wait for me. Here is my canteen. I’ll be back. The man slipped off his canteen and set it beside her, then ran toward the source of the yell.

For a moment, all she could do was lay still and breathe. She wasn’t dead and the man was gone. She might yet escape only her leg was in agony. A couple of tears slipped out as she sat up to inspect it. She wiped them away impatiently. This was no time for weakness. Her fingers shook as she ran them down the side of her calf to where it hurt the most. Gingerly, she felt the lump she found. Broken. Her leg was broken. How was she going to get away? If only she could just lay back and sleep. Great Spirit, help me please. Help me escape. She tried to lift her sore leg but the weight of her foot pulling on the break made her feel sick. There was no way she’d be able to catch up to her clan with a broken leg. She needed to find somewhere to hide, somewhere close.

In the dim light, she could just make out the bodies lying around her. Most were silent. Many of them she knew. She had joked with them and eaten with them, was it only yesterday? Tears threatened again and she shook her head to clear them away. There was no time for that. She bowed her head and prayed, Great Spirit, please welcome their spirits home. They died trying to protect their people. She wished there was something more she could do for them. Already, there was a line of torches at the edge of the field. The enemy would kill everyone still alive, then take anything of value and leave the bodies to rot. She needed to move. She tried to lift her sore leg again and nearly gagged. She needed a splint. She still had her sword, but how to tie it on? Maybe she could cut a strip of cloth from somewhere on her person. She felt for another knife and found the strap to the soldier’s canteen instead. Perfect. She dragged the canteen into her lap. It was nearly full. She suddenly realized how dry her mouth was. Why was it so full? Was the water bad? It smelled – fruity. Tentatively she took a sip. Watered down wine, good wine. She took several more sips then placed the canteen carefully by her hip. She would take it with her. It might be hard to find fresh water near the battlefield and there was no point in wasting it.

She held the sword to her leg. It would work, but a stick or two would be better. The approaching torches were still far away. She felt around and jumped back as she touched the cooling, claylike fingers of a body near her. Saying a prayer for the owner of the fingers under her breath, she moved her hand to search somewhere else. Finally, near her ankle, she found something smooth and straight and narrow. An arrow would work. With her sword, she cut the canteen strap in half and carefully, painfully tied the arrow and her sheathed sword onto her lower leg. Putting the canteen in her lap and holding her leg up as best she could, she began awkwardly scooting away from the torches toward a line of trees where she knew a wide stream flowed.

Help me hide, please Spirit, she whispered. All she needed was a crevice in the rocks or a thick bush to hide under until the enemy was gone.

The ground was peppered with small stones and sticks and the sharp stubble of broken grass. Occasionally she backed into a body and had to work her way around. Several times she put her hand into something wet and slick that was most likely not mud. It was hard to keep her leg above the ground. Every time she got careless and let it drop too far the jolt of pain was so great that she almost collapsed entirely. At least the torches didn’t seem to be getting any closer - except for one. The light at the end of the line was getting bigger and was coming straight at her. She increased her speed and changed direction. The torch kept coming. How could they see her? It was completely dark and clouds were covering most of the stars. The trees and the stream were too far away. She’d never make it. Her hand hit a cold piece of metal; a long knife, by the feel. She lay back, keeping the knife in her left hand along her body and away from the approaching light. Perhaps, if she lay down, it would make her harder to see and they would lose interest.

The light came closer. She watched it approach through slitted eyes. There were only two people. She could stab, then throw if the first one didn’t fall on her. She’d take one down for certain. She would pretend to be weaker than she was. She closed her eyes and waited.

It’s me. Don’t be afraid. I won’t hurt you.

She recognized the voice of the man who was now the torch bearer. His voice was gentle, even caring.

I know you’re awake. He sounded amused. Her curiosity got the better of her and she opened her eyes.

This is my friend Owen, the young man indicated the broader form beside him.

What do you want with me? Rabiah asked.

I want to help you.

Why?

Because, he handed the torch to his friend and fell down to his knees beside her, There is something…I’ve never felt something like this for anyone. I feel like we are meant to be together.

What do you mean?

He touched the side of her face and studied her as he slowly got closer. She couldn’t see what color his eyes were in the flickering light from the torch, but there was something… Her skin felt like it was humming where he touched her.

Do you feel it? he whispered into her ear. She nodded and turned toward his lips, not even considering how odd it was that she should want to kiss the enemy. His lips trembled a little as they touched hers. This was her chance. Her left arm moved. The knife stayed where it was. She closed her eyes and concentrated on the kiss. He was helmetless. Her fingers found their way into his smooth, wavy hair and pulled him closer. The pain lessened. Her exhaustion disappeared into a pleasant tiredness, and she was floating above everything again. She opened her eyes and found that his were opened too. He smiled under her lips and her own curve in response. The world shifted. She closed her eyes again and felt as if she were being pulled down a long tunnel. Just as suddenly as it began, it ended in a large space of light and warmth and him. He was funny and warm and caring and a little anxious and she couldn’t help but like him.

There was a noise or maybe more than one, and he pulled away. The light ceased, but a pleasant, warm feeling remained in her chest. He was breathing hard, as was she.

That’s enough. You two are glowing like a bonfire. You’re going to attract a crowd, Owen said.

Rabiah looked down at her dark body. What’s he talking about?

He can see auras, the young man explained.

Auras?

It’s a glow your body puts off. Most people can’t see them. They can be different colors depending on your mood or what kind of person you are.

Is that how you found me?

Yes.

What will you do with me?

The young man gave a smile that made her stomach flutter and pushed her helmet up on her head. He took his thumb and drew some kind of symbol on her forehead. I claim you as my wife.

Tristan! Owen exclaimed, What are you doing?

The young man ignored him. He drew another symbol on her left cheek. My eyes will see because of you, then on her right cheek, my mind will think because of you. He picked up her left hand and traced another symbol, my feet shall dance because of you, then her right hand, my voice will sing because of you, and finally on her chest, and I shall love because of you.

She was stunned, yet as he drew each symbol, it felt right. She could almost see a glow going between them. It was hard to breathe. His beautiful eyes looked deep into her own, and she found herself reaching up to him. She did not know what symbols he had drawn, but she touched each spot the way he had. I claim you as my husband. I will see because of you. I will think because of you. I will try to be a good wife and make your feet dance, and your voice sing, and be your love, always, and in that magic moment, she meant it, every word.

Owen, please witness, her new husband said, without taking his eyes off her face.

Slowly, reluctantly, Owen put his hands over theirs, now joined, and said, I witness this union. May it be long and fruitful and bring joy and happiness to you both.

Her new husband kissed her again. She wanted to keep kissing him, and not just because it made her forget the pain in her leg. She felt whole, like she’d found a missing piece of herself. There was another rude noise. It wasn’t until several moments after he pulled away again that Rabiah realized what they’d just done. What she’d just done. What was going on? Had he spelled her?

He was still kneeling near her. How could she feel such affection for him so quickly? It must be a spell. She couldn’t help herself. She reached up to touch his rough cheek. Why did you claim me?

He put his hand over hers and squeezed it gently. I wanted to protect you and I think, no, I know, we are meant to be together.

Protect me how?

Your people are defeated. You are injured, so you can’t run. If you are captured, you will probably be put to death because of your leg. I can take you to the healers, but they could not treat you because you are the enemy. Even as my personal prisoner, they might heal you, but they would not let me keep you. They would put you in a pen at the mercy of the guards. As my wife, they will care for you and give you back to me.

She closed her eyes. Her people, her father, her brothers, where were they? Had they been captured? Were they injured and waiting to be slaughtered? She lay her head back on the ground and sent up another whispered prayer. Please protect them Great Spirit.

She felt two arms sliding underneath her. Put your arms around my neck, the stranger, now her husband, said quietly in her ear. She obeyed. He struggled to lift her and managed to pull her onto one leg but could not stand. He fell on his rear so that she ended up in his lap. She cried out as her leg hit the ground.

Sorry, sorry. I forgot my leg was injured. In a gentler voice he added, It’s not every day I get married.

I hope not, she said quietly, after she could finally think over the throbbing in her leg. It was nice in his arms. She leaned her tired head against his chest. If this was what it was like to be spelled, it wasn’t bad.

As touching as this is, I would like to get back to my own tent tonight. I’ll carry her for you. Owen said with resignation. He squatted down to take her.

Her new husband kissed the top of her head as Owen’s arms went beneath her. Oh, I almost forgot. This is for you. Put it on and don’t take it off. Tristan took a ring off his finger and placed it in her palm.

Looks like we have some company. Owen nodded to the line of men with torches closing in on them.

Get her out of here Owen. I’ll talk to them.

Rabiah wrapped her arms around Owen’s neck to keep from slipping. His arms were thick and muscular and he lifted her as if she were a small child. He turned and left at a rapid pace leaving her new husband behind. Peering around Owen’s arm, she could see several torches had formed a semi-circle in front of her husband. Faintly she heard, Your Highness, what a surprise.

Highness? she asked, Who is he?

My best friend. Owen grunted and after a few steps more said, Don’t hurt him.

Her hurt him? She was the one who was spelled.

Owen carried her to the encampment of her enemy. They skirted around the smaller tents until they came to a wider path through the tents that led directly to a large red tent where people were rushing around in random directions. As they neared, she could see injured soldiers in rows on the ground in front of the tent with people in red tunics wandering between them, talking to some and holding their hands over others. They must be the healers of their people. A woman dressed in a darker burgundy robe stood in the middle of the space in front of the tent, shouting commands and directing the placement of patients as they came in.

Owen carried Rabiah past everyone and stopped directly in front of the woman in burgundy. The woman gave them a quick glance.

He’s not one of ours.

"She is now. Tristan claimed her as his wife. Show her the ring."

Rabiah still had the ring in her palm. She opened her hand and showed it to the woman.

Better put that on. To Owen she said, I’ll send someone to his tent. It will be a while. Make a tea out of this for the pain. The healer handed him three leaves from the satchel across her chest then turned to yell something at a young woman in red.

Owen carried Rabiah away down another broad path until he came within sight of a white tent that was slightly larger than the ones around it. To reach it, they had to walk close by several smaller tents with soldiers sitting in front, cleaning their gear. The soldiers glanced up curiously as Owen passed, but no one said anything.

Owen laid her on a cot near the back of the tent, not roughly, but not with great care either. She cringed as her leg hit the edge.

I’ll go make the tea, he said gruffly.

She nodded, biting her lip as waves of pain continued to radiate from her injured leg.

He lit a lantern that sat on a small table in the middle of the tent, then grabbed a metal cup sitting on the table and left.

She closed her eyes and put her head back. Her leg throbbed. She’d been hurt badly before, but she’d never broken anything. She breathed deeply, trying to relax. Great Spirit, please help me through this. She took another deep breath and a calm began to come over her. Her brother would tell her to review her situation and plan from there. The man, Tristan, may have spelled her, but he had treated her gently so far. Owen had told the healer that Tristan had claimed her as his wife, so he must have actually done so. If he was as decent as he seemed…no, she knew he was. She had been granted the gift of seeing him as he was. She had felt the Spirit’s presence. What if it wasn’t a spell? She smiled to herself. She could not escape in her present condition, but maybe this was the Spirit’s way of protecting her. How long would his interest last? Until she was healed? Boys had tried to kiss her before, but mostly just to see if they could. None were interested in marriage. They wanted a normal woman with a gift, not a fighter with none.

Here’s your tea.

Rabiah opened her eyes and found Owen frowning at her, holding a cup out before him. She pushed herself up and took it from him with her grubby hands.

Thank you.

Would you like to wash? He indicated her hands.

Yes, please.

He dragged a small table with a bowl and pitcher on top over to the cot and handed her a cloth. I’ll get some water. He took the pitcher and left again.

She sniffed the tea. It didn’t smell like much. She took a tentative sip. Bitter, of course. She forced it down sip by sip and felt the pain begin to fade.

Owen brought back the pitcher and poured some into the bowl, then placed a lump of soap beside it. I’ll be just outside if you need anything.

He was being very kind considering the circumstances. She lowered her head in a kind of bow. Thank you again.

He gave a gruff nod and left.

Her hands were filthy with dirt and blood. Most of it wasn’t hers, but the soap found plenty of scrapes and cuts to sting. She removed her hot helmet and fluffed up her sweaty hair so it could dry, then wiped her face and neck. The cloth came back brown. She removed the leather guards from her arms, and both the padded and leather vests from her chest, then lay back, exhausted. The medicine was working well, her leg was only weakly throbbing now. She closed her eyes and managed to fall asleep.

Chapter 2

Tristan found himself excited to be returning to his tent. He had a wife! She was…well he didn’t know if she was beautiful or not since he hadn’t gotten a clear look at her face, but she had a nice form and she was athletic, fearless, and a great kisser. Not exactly the qualities his mother had always championed. Owen was waiting for him outside the tent, his arms crossed.

She’s inside. Sleeping, I think.

Tristan ducked through the doorway. The single lantern on the table was turned down low. He picked it up and carried it to the cot. His wife was, indeed, asleep. She had taken off her helmet and her vest, and now he could tell that she was female. She had the darker skin of the Clanspeople, although it was not as dark as most. He stepped closer so he could see her face. She looked angelic in her sleep with long, dark lashes and beautifully shaped lips. The light flickered over her hair. Her hair was short, the longest strands just touching her shoulders, with dark roots that faded down the hairshafts to end in silver tips. He pushed a soft clump off her cheek. He felt an ache in his heart and longed to gather her to his chest.

Is she asleep? Owen asked from behind him.

Yes.

Owen peered over Tristan’s shoulder.

Look at that hair. She must be a witch.

She’s not a witch.

How do you know? Owen gestured toward her. Look at her. Look what you’ve tied yourself to. Turn her in now and be done with it.

Tristan stepped back so Owen could take a better look. Owen, beyond the hair, what do you see when you look at her?

Ambition, aggression, violence.

That’s not what you said earlier. Does her aura look tainted?

Well no, but if she’s a witch she could be hiding it.

Why would she? How many people have your gift?

Owen turned his scowl on Tristan. You told her about my gift. That’s supposed to be a secret.

I’m sorry. That’s the first and only time I have ever told anyone. Besides, you mentioned it first.

Why do you always jump into these situations? Why can’t you think things through?

When have I ever jumped into something like this? And I did think it through. Owen, you don’t understand. I’ve never felt that when I’ve kissed someone before. Never. We were in a different place. Tristan looked at his sleeping wife. I think I felt her soul. It was beautiful.

Owen snorted. First, I don’t recall that you’ve kissed many girls. Second, that’s probably part of the spell.

I didn’t hear her casting any spells.

She probably did it beforehand. It was her plan to snare you all along.

Tristan gave Owen a look. Yes, disguising herself as a boy, then breaking her leg as she tried to run from me definitely sounds like a plan.

For a moment Owen stared down at the sleeping woman. For the first time, Tristan noticed how she’d splinted her own leg with a sword and an arrow. Creative. How did you know she was a girl? Owen asked.

I heard her cry out when she fell.

And so you decided kissing her was better than killing her?

Yes. I bet you would have done the same.

Well, I might not have killed her, but I don’t think I would have kissed her.

I couldn’t help it. Something drew me to her. There’s a bond there. It’s as if we were meant to meet.

Owen rolled his eyes.

Thanks for witnessing and for carrying her here.

If I had known what you were up to I wouldn’t have gone with you.

Yet you witnessed.

You caught me off guard, and I didn’t know what she was.

Caught you off guard? I didn’t think you were ever off guard.

Look, when the Prince of the kingdom grabs you, drags you across a dark battlefield in the middle of the night, and starts to glow as bright as the sun, it would catch anyone off guard.

Really? I glowed?

You both did. I’ve never seen anything like it.

See, there is something between us.

Or else she’s a witch.

Tristan sat on a short stool and stretched his injured leg in front of him. The bandage he had wrapped around his thigh was bloody but not soaked.

How bad did she get you?

Enough for her to get away.

I’m surprised she didn’t aim higher.

Me too. I’ll have to ask her about it. Tristan glanced down at his new wife. She was close enough that he could touch her face, so he did, running his finger down her soft cheek. She responded to his touch, turning her face toward him slightly.

Do I need to leave you two alone?

Eventually.

Tristan, this is crazy. You know you can’t just marry someone. You have to marry for the good of the kingdom. Turn her in and be done with it.

I will not. You know what would happen to her.

Fine, wait until she’s healed then release your claim on her.

Tristan wanted to touch her again so he tenderly brushed some hair off her forehead and kissed the top of her head.

I’ll be outside. Owen replied angrily.

Tristan smiled to himself. It was hard to get Owen really angry but easy to make him upset. Owen was right. The effect this girl had on him was, well there was something odd about it. In her sleep she looked very young and innocent, but he had seen that determined look as she clenched her teeth when they fought. He reached down to take the hand which had fallen by her side. His ring fell onto the ground. He picked it up to slide it on her finger but something stopped him. Instead, he found a piece of leather lacing in his things. He slid the ring on the lacing and fashioned it into a necklace that he slipped over her head.

His leg ached and he was tired. Unfortunately, he only had one cot and his new bride was on it, covered with his blanket. He slid off his breast plate and propped it next to the washstand. Lying his head down on his arms next to her shoulder, he eventually fell asleep.

It seemed like just a few minutes later when Healer Marion woke him, but she said it was