Darkness Risen (The Ava'Lonan Herstories Book 4) by Ako Emanuel Page A

were around him, and that at least one was the
mistress of the menagerie. Was he back in the audience chamber?
    He stopped struggling after a moment, berating
himself. If he had kept quiet and listened, he might have learned a bit more
about his circumstances. Now they knew he was conscious and he had lost any
advantage he might have had.
    Gavaron, on the other hand, had taken full advantage
of Varo’s inactivity. Carried like baggage into the presence of his captor, he
encountered a ‘rito’ka such as he had never felt before - it was not of Av, as
sure as silver’s gleam, but nor was it of Lor. It was more like di’rita, the ‘rita
of water, but somehow - lighter, more diffuse, dispersed right along the edge of
his di’rita awareness. A feathery touch, an airy tickle...
    And he almost started as he realized that it was
from the spirit of air that the emanations of power originated. Then Varo was
awake, and Gavaron receded to observe.
    “So,” a silken voice breathed, chilling both Varo’s
and Gavaron’s blood. “This is the famous ‘joumbi’ of the unclaimed lons. Now
just another mount in your stable. How does he ride?”
    “We have not had a chance to ride him yet - his
breaking is taking more time than we would like.” Varo recognized the voice of
the Queen into whose presence he had been brought before. “We also have not had
the time to properly appreciate his - attributes, as you know, since we have
had other things to attend to. But it has come to our attention that he might
have information that may aid us.”
    He found it difficult to breathe, and it had nothing
to do with the choke chain.
    “Well - Varo, is it? That name will do for now.
Well, Varo, tell us about the High Heir.”
    Gavaron, safe in the link, suddenly felt sick to
both is stomachs. Varo knew nothing of Jeliya - how much to let him know?
    The gag was removed. Varo licked his lips, feeling
slight abrasions at the corners. He drew a breath, then felt a slight tingling
along the choke chain - Fekniri, warning him to watch his tongue.
    “Answer her Majesty,” Fekniri hissed.
    “Uh - the High Heir, Majesty?” Varo stammered. He
shook his head. “Begging your pardon, Majesty, but what would I know of the
High Heir?”
    The choke chain suddenly tightened, then as suddenly
released.
    “The High Heir,” the Queen’s voice repeated, her
voice still sweet, like cloying venom. “You called her name many times, in your
- sleep.”
    Comprehension dawned on Gavaron. Memories or perhaps
dreams had overcome him in sleep, and in them were memories of Jeliya. Gavaron
reluctantly gave Varo knowledge of Jeliya, but not of her being High Heir. He
prayed that he had not mentioned Jenikia.
    “She - she was High Heir?” Varo was genuinely
surprised. “I - I found her - she had fallen into a poisonous plant. She was
delirious with fever. I - I know something of the healing arts - herb healing -
I treated her as best I could. Then, one turn, when I returned to my home, she
was gone.”
    Lightning pain raced along the chain and screamed
down every nerve. His body arched with the shape of the pain. His voice sang to
its theme with an equine scream.
    “Why are you lying to us, Varo?” he heard dimly
through the pain. It stopped and he slumped, shuddering with agony’s echo. “You
were seen, carrying her, going into the Cribeau’Lons. Do you deny this?”
    Varo panted, trying to catch his breath. “It - it is
true,” he gasped out. “I - I move around a bit to gather food. I - I have a
place in the Cribeau’Lons - they let me stay there some times. I was being
hunted.” A dangerous note crept into his voice, Gavaron could not keep it out,
“I have been hunted before. I am usually safe in the Cribeau’Lons.”
    There was silence. Varo waited for the next
question.
    “This is important, my beautiful mount,” the Queen
said, and a tingle of pleasure, obscenely jolted him through the chain. “Was
she alone when you found her?”
    “Alone?