Page 4 of The Lionheart’s Bond (Bonds of Dusk and Dawn #1)

JUDEL

J udel had ventured too far from home. No need to panic, though. It had happened often enough over the last seven years. He knew what to do.

The clearing had beckoned, dull sunlight filtering through the bare branches, just as he began to escape the tethers of the feline consciousness. Disentangling himself from the mind of the lion was a slow process, and the world still appeared blurred and confusing, made of shadows and whispers. When he finally became aware of his surroundings, the young man trying to protect him from the men lifting their weapons came into sharp focus. How long would it take that young man to run?

But he didn’t. Chaos unfolded, and the idiot even jumped in the path of a projectile Judel would have dodged only too easily. Now, the boy lied crumpled at his feet.

The tang of iron and fear clung to the boy’s skin. Judel sniffed around the limp form. There was a heart beating, at least. The bolt protruded low on the man’s shoulder. The chances of survival were no worse than those of death. He wouldn’t know with any certainty until he inspected the wound, but he had other priorities at the moment. The four men coming for him were still cautious but would not be long to make their move.

‘I knew the boy was stupid,’ one of the soldiers spoke in the old tongue, ‘but I didn’t realize it was that bad. No wonder Lord Torell hates him.’

‘His stupidity might serve us though,’ the other man replied, rubbing his head where the stone had left an ugly welt. He spoke in a language impossible for Judel to understand. Kaletian?

It was worse than he thought. Not only had he gone far north; he had also crossed into another kingdom. But he couldn’t have gone too far, definitely no farther than Valecrest. These had been Ilish lands only years ago. ‘Lord Torell will be happier if we bring him the animal unharmed.’ Kaletian again. He growled.

The man slipped a hook out of his belt and tied it to the rope.

Judel exhaled sharply, nostrils flaring. They were audacious, he’d give them that. If he didn’t rush, they would get a bigger prize than they could ever imagine. The sun was already casting long shadows, its belly touching the swell of the world. Soon, he’d shed his feline fur and become human again, naked and vulnerable. A warrior without an armour, a prince without a crown, in the Kingdom of Kalye.

Kalye’s and Ilystra’s relationship wasn’t conflictive. Nor was it friendly. They ignored each other, that was the only way to describe it. Only historians retained any interest in their conflicts and ancestral grudges, except for the most recent events. After Nahel ascended to the throne, two of their vassals, Lord Calder and Lord Emmett, had pledged allegiance to the Kaletian King.

Lord Calder had taken the first steps towards betrayal, that much they knew, by travelling to Asteah, the king’s seat. It wasn’t entirely surprising, though. Endalor had historically spent as much time as part of Kalye as it had been part of Ilystra.

It had been long since their kingdom considered Kalye a threat, and yet, now their northern trade routes to Eldora and Nyara, and Cardeva, to the East, had become difficult. The passes that allowed the travel between their lands were in such disrepair that merchants were constantly complaining and while they had sent missives to Kalye, no answer had ever come.

He should run. Escaping was the wisest course of action. It would be disastrous for an Ilish Prince to be captured in Kaletian lands. If he fell into Lord Calder’s hands, he would no doubt be delivered to the Kaletian throne; the rare prize that would no doubt guarantee The count of Endalor an important reward. There would also be the small matter of Nahel’s anger which would no doubt set the castle on fire. It didn’t matter that she was his baby sister, or that he towered over her by a whole head, she’d beat him to the ground and not even break a sweat in the process. Queen Nahel was a force of nature, and he was proud of her, but her temper terrified all of her brothers. He should really, really run.

He gazed at the young man again, a flicker of curiosity mingling with concern. Red hair fell over a grime-streaked face, cheeks hollowed. A servant or a prisoner, maybe. No one important, going by his overall state. His clothes were tattered and covered in muck, though it was impossible to say if they had always been so or if the damage was the result of his recent escape. Because he must have escaped, why would those guards follow him otherwise?

However, under the layers of dirt and disarray lingered an air of refinement to his features, even before, in his stance. As vulnerable as a child, he had shivered like a leaf as he had put his body in between the weapon and him. And it wasn’t even the Prince of Ilystra he had shielded from danger; it was the mountain lion.

He sighed, knowing full well he couldn’t reason his way out of this. As a lion, that translated into a short puff of air born at the back of his throat.

How was he going to carry this poor boy to safety?

But it was too early to worry about that. Judel had more pressing issues to deal with. The four men, equipped with weapons and ropes, presented an immediate threat. Luckily, they wanted him alive. That would work to his advantage; they’d try their hardest not to harm him. Or so he hoped. There was no saying what bandits would do out of frustration.

He stretched again and prepared for any of them to make a move. They’d use the ropes, of course. None of them was going to be stupid enough to jump on a feline of his size, were they?

They wouldn’t.

The lasso spiralled in his direction, but he wouldn’t be taken by surprise and dodged it. Their first failure wasn’t enough to deter them from trying to capture him, nor was the second one, but the fourth and fifth one pushed them to the end of their patience. All their attempts ended the same way, forcing them to reach for their weapons. time for him to take this seriously. One of them would do. Maybe two. He needed to make an example.

Like a phantom, he lunged. Claws unsheathed, his body stretched across the air and landed on the first man, sinking them into his chest. They were sharp and they sank into the man’s flesh like it was butter. The grating feeling of claw against bone sent a chill through his body. The screams drilled into his ear and made his soul shiver.

Did he still have his human soul when he was a cat?

Concentrate, man! He chided himself.

This was the worst part.

He didn’t enjoy this part.

He didn’t enjoy it at all.

With a quick snap of his jaws, he dived for the man’s throat and swiftly bit down until he felt blood flood his mouth. He would have gagged, in human form, but there was no time to linger or overthink. The others would not hesitate to kill him now, and they’d do it both for revenge and in self-defence.

Muscles coiled, he leaped off the now writhing, dying body, and ran at full speed towards the next guy. The bandit was only half-way through loading his crossbow and watched in frozen horror as the animal pounced on him. Judel took no pleasure in hurting this guy, but he must, if he wanted to make it out of here alive. More than anything, he felt his victims were wronged. Judel might enjoy winning a duel, but not when he had what he felt was an unfair advantage over his opponent, his prey unaware of their own weakness.

Injured, the man connected an elbow to Judel’s face. It hurt, but Judel had allowed it. The guy took the opportunity to escape. Judel chased them half-heartedly, growling and roaring when possible, making sure they got away, until they were far enough that they would not try to turn back.

The sun dipped low as Judel retraced his steps, a silent shadow haunting the winter forest. The boy hadn’t moved, weak as he was, his breathing had turned shallow. Frustration warred inside him. His lion form lent him power and speed, stealth, even, but there was nothing he could do to mend flesh or staunch blood with muscle, paws and claws.

The curse was a cruel master that shackled them to the comings and goings of the sun, making them useless one way or the other.

Desperate to get out of the open and into some semblance of shelter, he nudged at the boy, trying to wake him, but he didn’t react. At a loss, Judel bit into the shirt and dragged him to the edge of the clearing, slowly, painfully, aware that every bump on the uneven ground, every stone that stuck out would cause the poor man pain. But they couldn’t stay out here. The bandits might come back. At least, unconsciousness was sparing him the worst of it.

Very carefully, he managed to make it under tree cover. He pulled him deeper, farther away from the clearing. He’d miss his feline eyes in a few minutes, when he transformed back into human. It was going to be soon. He could smell it. Before the curse, he would have never thought the sunset had a smell, and yet it did. It was the smell of pain, broken bones and torn skin.

There was a shallow depression ahead, behind tall trees, a narrow opening under a boulder, to the west. He shifted on his paws. What should he do? If he stayed here, he’d become human and have to venture out in the dark naked. He could make it back to the clearing easily, get the clothes from the guard he had killed earlier, but he needed more. A horse, maybe some supplies to help the boy. Lacking his animal senses and in foreign lands at night, he would soon get lost. Glancing at the boy one last time, he retraced his steps as fast as he could. That young man and those bandits had come from somewhere. By their speed, it couldn’t be too far. He wasn’t sure he’d make it there before the transformation caught him, but he should be able to get much closer.

Finding the clearing was easy, the smell of blood led him there. The other man’s scent was not as strong, but he was still able to follow the trail, the metallic smell overwhelmed by sweat and grime here and there .

Too soon, the sun set, forcing him to stop. The last of the sunlight washed over him, the sky tinted red and purple, low on the horizon, only dregs visible through the naked branches and the prickly pine trees.

It started, as it always did, with an uncomfortable tingling in his lower belly. A wave of cold spread through his limbs and seized his muscles. They pulled at his bones, first a gentle tension that grew insistently until he felt as if every bone in his body was going to snap. The pain became unbearable, but he had learnt to grit his teeth against it. Always worse in animal form, a low growl escaped his lips no matter how hard he tried to hold it in.

For a second that felt like a month, the pain was all that was. His bones might have stayed broken. Anything could happen during that time. All he knew was that, when it was over, he would be human again.

Life was slightly easier for them at this time of year. The nights were longer, allowing them more time in their natural form. More time to spend with their families and their loved ones. Of course, since the curse had hit, their love lives had been reduced to their minimum expression, so none of them had any regrets in that aspect at least. His brothers had none that he knew of. Neisha hadn’t engaged in any romantic relationship, knowing full well that his marriage would be arranged one day, when it suited. Brin was too keen on flirting to take anything seriously and Hina was in love with his books, the one relationship that the curse couldn’t quite hinder. Nel engaged in a lot of bed-hopping and tended to keep those casual. But of course, there was Kan. His younger brother’s broken heart was probably worse than his.

But even if the nights were longer, he feared it might not be enough to make it past the border and into Ilystra. The journey South would take much longer for him as a human and the wounded young man than it had been for the lion to come up. He had to take advantage of the nights as much as he could.

He clawed at the ground, needing to hold onto something as the transformation went through its last stages, and he shed his pelt, his fangs retracted to human size and his claws disappeared, leaving him breathless, and naked on the forest floor, dirt sticking to the sweat on his skin. Panting, he forced air deeper into his body, the scent of blood now imperceptible to his senses. He tried to take control of the pace of his heart, but there was no time to waste. His animal senses had told him already where the men’s camp ought to be. Judel immediately turned his steps in that direction.

Clothes were his priority. A naked man roaming around was always conspicuous and that was the last thing he needed. And a horse of some description. A cart would have been ideal, but they would need to travel through the forest for some time still.

Some food and water too. Any utensils he could find.

It was a lot. He sighed.

At least his gamble had paid off. Finding his way as a lion had brought him quite close and soon, he saw the wavering light of campfires and torches. There seemed to be a natural entrance to the encampment, but he avoided it. Instead, he chose the farther end, where a couple of tents rose above carts and cages.

He stole along the back, listening carefully to the noises inside. Silent.

That didn’t mean it was empty, but he’d have to risk it. He held his breath as he checked inside. His heart drummed in his chest. The slack-faced figure sprawled on the pallet didn’t surprise him, but whatever concerns he might have felt were soon alleviated by the vapours of alcohol hovering around the body. The man was passed out.

Even so, searching the room demanded stealth, but seven years had turned him into an accomplished criminal. It was hardly becoming of a person of his position, but beggars couldn’t be choosers and when they found themselves too far from home and as naked as the day they came into the world, they were definitely beggars. Since they fell victims to the curse, he had found himself in many difficult situations. Making his way back home often required stealing, a certain level of trickery and stealth he hadn’t known he was capable of.

The clothes, he found easily. A trunk by the bottom of the cot yielded the desired treasure and even a blanket. Judel would be leaving the place clad in leather trousers and a shirt and tunic. He even took an extra shirt for the boy. The injury to his shoulder would already make his body drop in temperature, and the nights were cold now.

An apple sat fatefully by the passed-out man’s hand. As carefully as possible and without as much as taking a breath, Judel picked the fruit and stored it in the folds of his shirt. The man didn’t flinch. Judel paused. Maybe, if he was careful… he thought.

Treading silently around the pallet, he reached for the man’s belt. The man stirred—a rough cough, a shift in position. Judel’s heart thumped painfully in against his ribs. He was being reckless, but it would be worth it if it worked out.

Breath frozen in his chest; he waited for the man to quieten once more.

In the moments of stillness that followed, Judel worked swiftly. If luck rarely was on their side, in this at least, it favoured him. That the man had drank too much that specific evening was a blessing. His luck redoubled as he found the belt equipped with a dagger, flint, a length of rope and a waterskin. The Divine Lady of Luck was shining upon him tonight, and he prayed she would continue to do so as he rushed out, wondering if the boy would still be alive when he made it back. With his injury, death was more than a simple possibility. He frowned. It might not even be worth rushing at all.

Regardless of his pessimistic thoughts, he felt it was his duty to do his best for the young man who had tried to save his life.

Sadly, the only cloak was still wrapped around the man’s shoulders, and it would not be easy to take it from him without waking him up. Not everything was going to be that simple.

A horse, now. He considered a cart again. It would be so much easier to transport the boy, but it would be two nights at least, going South. He didn’t even want to think about what would happen to the boy during the day. A cart would keep him off the cold floor while he was away and make it harder for the horse to run away. On the other hand, it’d be easier to spot…

Judel stopped overthinking and decided to stick to horses only.

He parted the tent’s front opening just enough to spy outside. The scene revealed a typical tableau of men in various states of intoxication, victims to their own excesses. It worked perfectly for his purpose. Judel was now fully dressed, and his apparel was no different than their own, but meeting someone face to face would lead to the risk of being discovered as an intruder. The more of them were unconscious, the better for his plans.

With practiced precision, Judel weaved his way through carts, tents and sleeping men, finding the tethered horses. Two steeds, one for him, one for the boy, he thought. But the boy was unconscious, his body fragile and his wound quite severe. Even if he woke, the chances of him being strong enough to cling to the saddle were slim.

Digging his thumbs into the well of the apple, he snapped it in two. He gave one half to the horse, and used the remaining piece to lure it as he untangled the bridle from the branch it was wrapped around. The mare accepted the treat, smacking its lips contentedly, and suddenly happy to follow him. Judel led the animal away, only daring climb on it when he had put some distance between the camp and him.

Low branches and debris slowed down his advance, the horse careful of where it stepped. And there, under a single ray of moonlight, lay the boy. He remained immobile, exactly where Judel had left him. He couldn’t tell if he should be happy about it or not.

Wrapping the bridle to a tree, he rewarded the horse with the rest of the apple.

Now that he was human, his night vision had become poor once more, but the moon shone bright. He felt the wound, fingers tracing the contours of the boy’s body, finding the bolt protruding out of his chest like an appendage growing in the wrong place. The head hadn’t made it through, leaving Judel to finish that job. He would need to pierce the skin on the other end so he could break the head and pull the shaft through, but he didn’t have anything to staunch the blood once he did, nor any of the herbs and unguents physician Delon used to treat their injuries. The shaft was stemming the blood for now. Better wait until they were back. If the boy survived that long, of course. Another million things could happen that could threaten his life. Judel prepared himself mentally for the possibility that he would arrive to Ilystead with a dead body on his horse and the resulting questions and scolding his sister no doubt would have reserved for him.