Arise Read online

  Arise

  Melody’s Song Book 3

  Tanya Schofield

  TEXT COPYRIGHT © 2018 TANYA SCHOFIELD

  ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

  ISBN: 9781947683136

  Cobble Publishing LLC

  Sugar Land, TX

  Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33

  Chapter 34

  Chapter 35

  Thank you!

  for Aria,

  and the world you’re going to change someday.

  1

  “Looks like we got a weapon after all,” Aggravain said, leaning back in his chair. Several men had recovered from the impact of Melody’s uncontrolled voice and shared vision enough to agree with him. Others were still staring at her, fearful, stunned by the raw knowledge of what she had done in Foley.

  “No,” Melody protested. “That is not my role.”

  They were barely listening, increasingly excited by the destructive power they had witnessed, already forgetting the manner in which it came to them.

  “You must reclaim your own power if you are to keep it,” she said, trying to speak over the crowd. “My only duty is to show you how!” Her words went unheard in the rising tide of voices. She looked around the room seeking even a single face without dread or fear in their eyes, but there were so many strangers.

  “You’re not a weapon. You’re a monster.”

  Melody heard the boy’s voice before she saw him, his face was twisted in rage as he pushed closer to her. Nathen, she remembered. She had healed him earlier, removed the spreading black tendrils that poisoned him.

  “You killed them,” he snarled. He slid a knife from his belt. “All of them.”

  Melody took a step back in the face of his barely controlled fury. A dark blue aura flickered around the boy, but there was no time to wonder why. Suddenly Attilus was beside her, shoving up against her leg and growling in warning. She stumbled into Jovan, who threw his arm out in front of her and stepped forward to meet the threat. The impact pushed her backwards, sending her to the floor when her feet tangled again in her too-long dress.

  Melody’s surprised cry as she fell was uncontrolled, and the room went silent as everyone felt what she felt, and turned to look.

  “She’s a monster!” Nathen shouted, the words loud in the now-quiet room. “She’s worse than the Lich—“ The boy’s protests cut off as Jovan slammed him to the floor. The long knife clattered out of Nathen’s grip. The point of Jovan’s sword rested comfortably in the hollow of Nathen’s throat, holding him motionless.

  Jovan held up his right arm. “You meant this for her.” Blood poured from an alarming wound beneath the bend of his elbow, coating his arm and pooling on the floor. “Why should I let you live?”

  “Jovan, no!” Melody climbed to her feet, wanting to tell him about the strange aura she saw around Nathen. “He’s not— oh!” She stopped, clutching her side as a sudden sharp pain stole her breath.

  “Melody!” There was real alarm in Senna’s voice, and Jovan turned to see why.

  Melody swayed, pale, seeing but not understanding the hot blood covering her hand. A dark stain was rapidly soaking her dress, spreading out and down. She blinked up at Jovan. “Oh,” she said again, sinking to her knees.

  Nathen writhed, his face twisted with anger. “I did you a favor! She’s a witch—”

  Jovan didn’t even look back to the boy before he thrust the sword downward, bringing Nathen’s words to a sudden, gurgling stop.

  Chaos erupted.

  Melody felt hands bracing her shoulders and head, guiding her to lie on the hard wooden floor. Attilus sniffed frantically around her until someone pulled him away. Senna’s face moved into view, and there was Calder - they both looked worried.

  “He … wasn’t … himself.” Melody’s gasping whisper was lost in the noise of the room. Angry voices surged above her, and insistent fingers pressed on the pain in her side. She tried to push them away, but then Jovan was there, taking her hands together in both of his, raising them to his lips.

  “It’s all right,” he promised, though he looked as worried as the others. He kissed her fingers. “I’m here.”

  You’re bleeding, Melody sent, her eyes widening at the blood covering his arm.

  “So are you,” he said. “Try to relax, Senna will take care of it.”

  “Senna will do what she can,” Senna said, still putting pressure on Melody’s wound. “But not in this crowd. Let’s get her to the kitchen.”

  Jovan pulled Melody into his arms and stood, ready to follow. “I need Edwin,” he told Calder. “And can you—” He looked at the other men, still crowded around Nathen’s body.

  Calder pushed Jovan gently towards the kitchen. “Take care of her,” he said. “I’ll take care of them.”

  Attilus followed close behind, unwilling to let Melody out of his sight. He pushed between Jovan and Senna as they laid the girl on the bed, insistent, shoving his nose under her limp fingers. He whined when she didn’t rub his ears, and pushed at Melody’s hip until she groaned softly.

  “Out, hound. Let Senna work.” Jovan was pulling the reluctant dog to the kitchen door when Edwin arrived, and the young herbalist helped him finish the job.

  “Thanks, kid.” Jovan was pale, his footing unsteady.

  “By the Break, your arm…” Edwin guided Jovan to lean against the counter. “You’re still losing blood.”

  The young herbalist didn’t wait. He tore a towel into strips, knotting them together before wrapping it just above Jovan’s elbow. “It needs to be tighter,” he said, searching the counter until he found a thick wooden spoon. After wrapping the ends of the cloth strip around the spoon handle, he turned it, tightening the cloth until Jovan gritted his teeth and the blood finally slowed.

  “You need a Healer,” Edwin said, wincing in sympathy.

  “My Healer needs a Healer more than I do,” Jovan said, gesturing to the cot where Senna’s head was bent in concentration. Her hands were on Melody’s bare abdomen, she had torn the hole in the bloody dress wide to gain better access to the injury.

  “Is she all right?” Edwin kept his voice low. “How can I help?”

  “She’ll live,” Jovan said. “I wanted you here for me. You’re good with stitches.”

  Edwin kept the pressure tight on Jovan’s wounded arm. “Sure,” he agreed. “Except this isn’t … I can’t stitch this, Jovan, the whole muscle—”

  “Then just keep me conscious until she wakes up,” Jovan said, clenching his bloody fist and taking a deep breath as the severe cut leaked fresh blood. “It’s fine.”

  It wasn’t fine. Nathen was one of his. Melody had healed the boy, saved him when he was past hope of saving, and in return he’d tried to kill her. He had nearly succeeded.

  Melody shifted, and Jovan knew she was feeling his anger. He took a deep breath to steady himself. Echoes of her pain throbbed in his side.

  “Let me wash it off.” E
dwin pressed the rest of the towel on Jovan’s wounded arm, frowning. “Where is the well?”

  “Through the back door, to the right.” Senna gestured with her chin, but she didn’t look up. “How bad is it?”

  “It’s—“

  Jovan didn’t let the boy finish. “I can wait.” He pushed Edwin to lead the way. “Just take care of her.”

  Edwin waited until they were outside by the well to speak again. “Jovan, what happened in there?” His breath clouded as he spoke. He rubbed some warmth into his fingers and then drew up a bucket from the well.

  “Nathen stabbed her,” Jovan said simply, inhaling sharply as the winter-cold well water splashed over the deep cut. “Through me.”

  “But … she healed him. We all saw it. Why would he—?”

  “I don’t know. Maybe he worked for Korith.”

  “No.” Edwin’s denial was immediate. “Hold this.” He brought Jovan’s left hand to the spoon holding the tourniquet in place so he could scrub the remaining blood from the larger man’s arm. “Nathen hated Duke Korith and everything he stood for. His mother had magic, before they killed her.”

  “Then your guess is as good as mine, kid.”

  “I wonder if it was the cut,” Edwin said. “I’ve never seen anything like those black lines, Jovan. Was that what would have happened to Jensar?”

  Jovan nodded, remembering the wounded man they’d left behind. “It would have killed him, slowly.”

  “Whatever clawed them, it had to be from the Lich King. Maybe it made Nathen … open to something? Or confused him?”

  “Not likely,” Jovan disagreed. “Melody and I both survived the same thing. We’re not confused.” The matter was settled as far as he was concerned, so Jovan leaned against the well, breathing deep of the cold winter air while he focused on Melody. He felt when her pain finally eased, and he was already on his feet when Senna appeared in the doorway.

  “She’s stable,” the Healer said. “She’s asking for you.”

  Jovan paused as he approached the door, still holding the tourniquet tight as he searched her face. “Senna— the baby?”

  “Unharmed,” she replied. “The wound was to the side.”

  Jovan let out the breath he wasn’t aware he’d been holding. “Thank you.” He stepped past her into the kitchen.

  “Does she need anything? Stitches? Herbs? I’m not a Healer, but…” Edwin let the words trail off.

  Senna smiled. “It’s Edwin, isn’t it? No, she just needs rest, and food when she can eat it. Poor girl’s been on broth for a week. Let’s get back to the others, see how bad it is. This is the first time I’ve been glad for slow business - at least there were no other guests to see that.”

  Jovan ignored them both as they walked through the kitchen, eyes only for Melody. He perched on the stool beside the cot, holding his wounded arm in his lap. “You’re really okay?” he asked her.

  She nodded. Yes, she sent. I’m good. Tired. Senna says my body is still weak from the fever, and being … pregnant. The rest of me is fine, though. See? Melody reached over and laid her warm fingers on the icy skin of Jovan’s arm, silently healing the damage there with a rush of heat.

  His fingers twitched at the sudden absence of pain. Releasing the tourniquet, he made an experimental fist.

  “Don’t you have to sing, though?” He marveled at the clear, unbroken skin, turning his palm face up and testing the muscles. It was as if he’d never been stabbed.

  Only sometimes. She shrugged. Healing is easy.

  “Not for everyone,” he said. “Senna can’t do what you do. Not as quickly, anyway.”

  I don’t know how it works for other people, Melody admitted. I just … ask the flesh to mend, and it does. I think it wants to be whole again. I guess I… show it how.

  “Just not your own flesh?” he asked, laying his hand gently on her abdomen.

  Yes, she agreed. I’m not sure why, though. I’m so grateful for Senna.

  “I am too.”

  Melody ran her fingers over the back of Jovan’s hand. Nathen … You really killed him?

  Jovan pulled his hand away and ran it through his hair with an exasperated sigh. “He stabbed you, Melody. You healed him, and he attacked you. Yes, I killed him.”

  I just … I’m not certain you needed to kill him.

  “The kid tried to gut you! He almost did - you were bleeding out, what was I supposed to do?”

  Melody caught her lip between her teeth for a moment, hesitant in the face of Jovan’s frustration. Nathen wasn’t himself, she sent. Not entirely, I don’t think, there was something—

  “Well, he’s still dead,” Jovan snapped. “Unless you want to bring him back, start your own undead army to fight Semaj?”

  Melody’s jaw dropped. What? Jovan, no, I— Why would you say that? Why are you angry with me?

  “I’m not angry.” He stood up suddenly, knocking over the stool. Melody flinched back. “I just don’t know how to keep you safe! If I can’t protect you here, how can I possibly do it where we’re going?”

  Melody watched him pace, wide-eyed. Jovan—

  “An attack from Duke Korith I expect, but Nathen? He was one of mine, Melody. We fought together. I trusted him. He was just a kid. Who else is going to come for you? What if I’m not there next time?”

  Melody swung her legs off the bed and stood up, catching her balance before approaching him. “Jovan, stop.” She crossed the room and gently wormed her way into the circle of his arms. She could feel his heart beating fiercely under her hands.

  “We can do this,” she told him, pushing against his chest.

  He let her guide him, stepping back as she stepped forward, stopping when he was leaning against the kitchen counter.

  “We can, Jovan. We do. I’ve seen it.”

  She hadn’t controlled her voice on the last few words, and suddenly Jovan knew what road lay ahead of her, and who had shown her that path. He felt her nervousness and determination, and as fragments of a dream came to him he saw another Melody, this one confident and calm - the woman his Melody would become.

  “She’s … you?”

  She couldn’t have shown me the way if she hadn’t finished the journey, Melody sent him, laying her cheek against the flat of his chest. Which means we succeed. We must. We’ll do it together.

  Jovan laid his chin on the top of Melody’s head and wrapped her in his arms, taking a deep breath. “All right, I’ll trust you,” he whispered. “Both of you. Just … please let me keep you safe?”

  I’m not helpless, she reminded him.

  Jovan kissed her head, closing his eyes. “I know.” He remembered the feelings that had flooded through him when Melody had revealed to everyone how she had torn every inch of Foley down to its foundations— unthinkable power, cold anger, and earth-breaking destruction. All of it had been unleashed with nothing more than her will.

  No, Melody may be fragile, but she was far from helpless. The girl who saved his life in Cabinsport seemed a lifetime away.

  2

  The boy is dead, my Lord. Logannus bowed without moving.

  Yet still she lives? Phelwen Semaj lay motionless on the cold stone slab, relishing the chill and the aching sensation of discomfort in the body’s back muscles … no, his back muscles. His substantial, physical back. The delight of the actual feelings in this body was nearly enough to temper his displeasure in his servants, who continued to fail in such a simple task. He brought a hand up before his eyes, flexing the powerful fingers into a fist and releasing it again. This body was … intoxicating.

  She does, my Lord. Shall I send another?

  Semaj breathed deeply, though with the enchantments he had placed upon the body it no longer required the air. He simply enjoyed the feeling of the muscles expanding and contracting. He breathed again, for sheer indulgence, as he considered the problem of the girl. The body had searched for her, sent others …

  Garen’s consciousness was cowering where Semaj had left it, thorou
ghly insane. It was weak and protesting, alternately pleading and silent, denying what had become of it. (letmediepleaseletmedie) Semaj had chosen to retain, rather than destroy what was left of the man’s mind – the constant soundless screams in his head pleased him.

  He let a smile play across the body’s lips as he extracted the information he required, savoring the echoes of pain caused by his ungentle actions. (youcantdothistome!letmedie!) Lothaedus, the assassin’s name was, he had been tracking the girl for weeks. (stopitleavemebeletmedie) Lothaedus was the best killer the body had ever known, the body was certain he would not fail. In point of fact, the body was baffled the assassin had not already succeeded. (iwasloyaltoyou!releaseme!) Lothaedus was loyal to the body. Phelwen Semaj again batted Garen’s consciousness aside, ignoring the pleas.

  Lothaedus. He reached out, but there was no answer, only a sense of confusion. The assassin was there, but he did not respond. Semaj frowned, and pushed harder, tensing muscles he did not need to tighten just so he could feel their motion under his skin.

  Lothaedus. Still nothing, still that same lack of recognition, that same bewilderment – this time tinged with resentment. The being did not know itself, somehow. The exertion was taking its toll, and Semaj broke off the connection. He would rest, and he would try again, when he was stronger. He stretched, luxuriating in the movement of the muscles of the body.

  Logannus watched, impassive, waiting.

  Send more, Logannus. Let them hound her, plague her, hunt her. It is almost a pity she will not live long enough for me to crush her myself, with this body. Phelwen Semaj flexed his hands again, curling them into tight fists that he could imagine around the girl’s throat. It had been so very long … he curled the body’s toes, feeling the energy rebuilding as the magic soaked into him. It would take time, the manifesting had drained much of his reserve, but he was alive.