The Blessed Curse (The Elder Blood Chronicles, #4)(4)

Movement to the side of the trail caught his eye and Neph stared hard into the trees. His gaze locked on the woman crouched in the snow at the base of one of the massive pines. He knew her well enough, but he didn’t understand what she was doing here. He nodded in greeting and frowned when she looked away without returning the gesture. He knew she had seen him. Their eyes had met.

“Why is Kes here, Kadan?” Neph asked cautiously as he spotted another scout on the other side of the road. Kes herself was the leader of the Delvay scouts and by all rights she should have been south watching the borders. His brother continued on in silence, either pretending he hadn’t heard the question or simply choosing to ignore it. “Why is Kes here, Kadan?” Neph demanded as a sick feeling began building in his gut.

“You know what the punishment for cowardice is, Neph,” Kadan answered in a low voice.

Panic washed over him at the words and Neph dug his heels painfully into the cat’s sides sending it leaping forward on the path and past Kadan. Snow churned beneath the creature’s massive paws as it scrambled up the steep trail. “No, no, no,” Neph mumbled as the trial grounds grew closer. He knew it was futile, though. In his heart he already knew what he would see.

The smell of blood reached him before he had cleared the last of the trees. With an incoherent groan he stumbled from his saddle and staggered past the last of the pines and into the trial grove. A circle of guards surrounded the clearing and he could hear them move to block his way back out of the grove, but he didn’t bother to look back. His eyes were locked on the body swinging from the center post. Her pale blond hair was matted with blood and her clothes were shredded from being drug up the mountain side. His throat tightened as he moved quickly to her side. They had bound her wrists and hung her from the post as if she was a deer to be bled out. Tears burned at his eyes as he stared up at her pale bruised face.

“Neph.” The word was mangled by her swollen lips, but it still sounded like music to his ears. She was alive. There was hope.

Carefully, Neph wrapped his arms around her waist and lifted her until the rope slipped from the post. “It’s OK now, Zyi, I’ve got you,” Neph whispered, his voice harsh. His eyes rose to stare hard at the circle of guards. “She has suffered her punishment. She needs a healer now,” he growled.

“Cowards do not receive mercy from Delvay, neither do traitors.” The voice cracked through the clearing and Neph turned slowly to face his father. “Did you help her, Neph? Are you a traitor to your people?” RenDelvayon demanded.

“He didn’t help her father,” Kadan replied before Neph could open his mouth. “I spoke with him on the ride and I will swear by the Aspects and Divine that Neph is no traitor.”

Neph stared hard at his brother before slowly turning back to face his father. Zyi shifted in his arms and he could feel her blood soaking through his armor. “She needs a healer,” he repeated struggling to keep his voice calm.

“Return her to the post. We do not heal cowards. You know the coward’s fate well enough to understand that,” Ren said coldly. “She is your daughter!” Neph bellowed, his panic and anger fueling his voice.

“That creature is not of my blood,” Ren snapped in disgust and pointed once more to the center post. “Place her back on the post or share her fate Neph.”

“Do it, Neph. Let me die. Don’t fight for me, please,” Zyi begged weakly. Her hand moved to his arm and her pale blue eyes flickered open. “Please, Neph.”

“Save your strength, Zyi. You will need it for the ride back down the mountain,” Neph whispered and kissed her gently on the forehead. Carefully he sat her down at the base of the pole and pulled off his cloak. Gently he wrapped the thick wool around her and slowly stood once more, facing his father. “You want her back on the pole then come and put her there yourself,” Neph snapped as he pulled his sword slowly from its scabbard.

“You would challenge me for a coward?” Ren demanded his anger rising in his voice.

“My sister,” Neph corrected firmly and squared his shoulders as he brought up his strongest shields. “Consider it a challenge if you want. I really don’t care. All I’m saying is, she is going back down the mountain with me and if I have to fight you first, so be it.”

“I always knew you had a weak heart,” Ren snapped as he drew his own blade. Stalking forward he shook his head in disgust.

“At least I have one,” Neph growled as he moved to meet his father’s first attack. Metal screamed as he parried the blow. Stepping back quickly he dodged the next swing and struck low with his own blade. His sword grazed across his father’s armored leg. Frantically Neph called on his magic to lend him speed as he parried another bone jarring blow that had been aimed at his head.

“You can’t win here, Neph,” his father growled as his own magic flared to life and his attacks doubled. “You may have strength, but it isn’t honed. One day you might be stronger than me, but not today,” RenDelvayon was the High Lord of Delvay for one simple reason: he was the strongest. No one in Delvay could match him at swords or magic.

“I’d rather die than see her hang again.” Neph gasped the words as he struggled to keep pace with his father’s sword. Blow after blow rang down on him and it was all he could do to parry or dodge. At this rate, his father was right. He didn’t have a chance. He needed a break in the assault, just one chance to strike a solid blow.