“It’s dry, she hadn’t dirtied it yet. But look,” He opened the bundle. In a corner of the cloth, two things were sewn in place with wild, loose stitches. A key and a ring.
The vore’s ears went up.
“My heart about stopped,” Vren said. “The Ring of Xy. I don’t know what the key is for, but it must be important.”
The vore’s ears went flat.
“I can’t let these fall into Xyrath’s hands, much less the blood memories. How many warriors are hunting us?”
Her response startled him. “One?” Vren asked “Just one?”
Dust stopped chewing, focusing her yellow eyes on his. Her message was affirmative, but there was more. Vren’s heart started beating faster.
“Bondmaiden?” he whispered, hoping he was wrong.
After traveling with Dust for so long, he’d learned much of her language of body movements and sounds. He didn’t always pick up the subtler meanings, but this was absolutely clear. Hate, cold and terrifying, aimed at their pursuer.
There was nothing a vore hated more than blood magic. Dust wanted the Bondmaiden dead.
Blood magic.Unwilling sacrifice, unwillingly made.
Vren shuddered. His hands stilled as the implications started to sink in and fear rose in his throat. Not for himself. “Orval,” he whispered. “Orval doesn’t know… I never told him that—” he swallowed hard. “Skies as my witness, I never thought—” he clamped his jaw tight.
He’d first met Orval when he’d approached him years ago, offering protection to a child of the Blood of Xy. But Orval could have cared less for the Crown and the Court. He had snorted, pulled Vren into his rooms, offered kavage and pease porridge and pulled out charts of family trees, reviewing blood lines and explaining ‘fourth cousins twice removed’ to show that he stood in no danger of that fate. ‘Not to mention,’ Orval had said, “they’d never let a cripple sit on the throne.’
Vren should have faded away then, but he kept coming back. It was a breath of fresh air to sit and talk with the man. Well, in truth, Orval did most of the talking, often asking questions that Vren couldn’t or wouldn’t answer. When that happened, Orval just shrugged and offered more pease or kavage. He kept treats on hand for Dust, when she deigned to enter the city.
Orval hadn’t been shy about quizzing the vore either, with Vren to interpret as best he could. Dust seemed to find it amusing that Orval pestered her with questions about her home in Athelbryght and its history.
Not that she was willing to share many details.
Now his friend was in danger, more danger than he knew, and Vren had placed him there. Vren hadn’t told him about the Bondmaidens, how blood magic had been used to create them. How that taint was one of the reasons why the marcusi had withdrawn their protection from the Wyvern Blood of Xy.
“I am a damn fool,” he whispered, lifting his head, his first instinct to go back into Edenrich.
Dust nudged him with her nose, reading his thoughts.
“I can’t risk it,” he agreed. “I know I can’t. And killing her is not an option. Best thing we can do is draw her attention to us and lead her away.”
Still, his gut churned for his friend. He had work yet to do, even as his mind raced, so his fingers moved while he thought.
“Why just one?” he asked.
Dust had resumed chewing her meat, but he knew she was listening.
Vren dug out more rags and twisted them into a semblance of limbs. “Ah, they don’t want anyone to know, do they?” he answered his own question. “So we need to keep her on our trail. Does she use magic?”
Dust denied that. And she’d sense if it was being used.
So the woman was just tainted with blood magic. That was one worry off his mind. He focused on tying the legs and arms to the doll.
The sling was next; he had to wiggle around to get it in place under his cloak. The branches rustled, and showered them with droplets. At least the rain had settled into a soft patter on the leaves.
Dust gulped down the last of her meat and rose on her haunch. She rubbed her muzzle with a forepaw, cleaning her face. Moments like this made it clear she wasn’t just a large wolf of some kind. There was something feline in her as well.
“Believable?” he asked as he shoved the doll into place.
Dust snorted.
