Igraina placed her hand on T'kar's chest, firmly pressing him back, unafraid of his glare.
"This is not the way," she said. "No one will know of this treachery if you simply slay her and the child here in this nursery. No. The queen should be executed for this betrayal, but not here. Show your subjects that terror you exude. Execute both of them in public, before their very eyes."
T'kar's rage continued, but his breathing slowed as he contemplated Igraina's suggestion. She glanced back at Cohlein with a crooked smile. Cohlein looked away, unsure of what Mother Igraina had planned, but confident that it had something to do with her.
"Public," Igraina said again. "Make a spectacle of it. If need be, I will bear your child for the world to worship."
A smile spread across T'kar's face. His eyes looked Igraina's body up and down, and a pleasant growl snaked its way out of his maw.
"Yes," he said. "Yes. That will do."
He took Igraina's robe in his fist and tore it open, staring at her breasts with all the lust Cohlein had ever seen. Igraina took his hands and placed them there on her bosom, encouraging him to squeeze and rub them like the lustful beast he was.
"These can be yours," she taunted him. "If you let me arrange this spectacle."
"Very well," T'kar said, backing away but still fixated on Igraina's body. "But I want to kill them both myself."
"Of course," Igraina said, closing her robes. "I would have it no other way."
The king turned, glaring at his wife one last time, and stormed out. The remaining midwife closed the door behind him, falling to her knees to weep at the deaths of her sisters. Igraina turned to lean against the bedside, reviled and mortified at the thought of the king touching her. Her face was pallid and sickly.
"Igraina," the queen said. "You will not allow my child to come to harm."
"No," Igraina said. "But I'm afraid your life is out of my hands."
Though the queen's face fell to darkness, she nodded. "Just protect him," she said softly. "I beg you. I will give my life for him."
She kissed her child on the forehead, and raised it up for Igraina to take. Mother Igraina smiled down on the child, and she nodded to Cohlein. Cohlein went to the door to await her, and did her best to comfort the remaining midwife.
"Your sisters will be honored," she said. "Mother Igraina will ensure it."
Igraina slowly made her way to the door, pausing to look at the bodies. Though she scowled, Cohlein realized she had no concern over their deaths. Her only concern, as usual, was herself. The concern she had over the child, though seemingly genuine, was no doubt centered on her own selfish whims. However, that was good enough for Cohlein.
"We will make our plans in my chambers," Igraina said. "Prepare to flee. You will take the child with you."
Igraina passed her without another word. Cohlein looked over at the queen, who now wept in her bed. Cohlein's heart ached for her, but she could only watch and not interfere. In heart, though, the young seer knew that the queen's sacrifice would ensure her child's future. Cohlein was prepared to make that same sacrifice, as she knew her life would need to come to an end as well.
Lest T'kar's seed grow within her.
Chapter Two
Behold the price of treason!” T’kar shouted over the gathered crowd of peasants.
Those among them who feared the king trembled with terror. Their only salvation, the daughter of their former king, now stood shackled and naked before them. She was stretched out between two wooden posts that were carved into the likeness of snakes. The king stood before her, overlooking the gathering from a large platform surrounded by iron spikes that jutted at the crowd like the teeth of a giant serpent.
“The queen has consorted with demons,” he continued. “She has borne a bastard child of the darkness, one who is not of my line. This cannot be!”
Fianna wept loudly, crying out for her child, whose location was unknown. In his place, Igraina had fashioned a simulacrum of clay and the queen’s own blood, breathing false life into it with her witchery. It would be enough to fool the king, she hoped, but there was no telling the child’s fate once she was gone.
T’kar turned to her, glaring, and then smiling as her terror grew. He came toward her, ignoring the shouts of the peasants behind him. Only his black-clad guards kept them in place, standing between the iron spikes with spears and intense glares.
“This will be your redemption,” T’kar gloated. “The throne is now mine, and you will perish with your child, forever lost to history. Daegoth’s line is broken.”
“Please,” she begged. “Spare me. Send me away in exile. I will never return.”
“Ignore her!” Igraina shouted. “The child must die. It has been written. A son of the Dragon shall return to take your throne. This is that child. He must die.”
T’kar laughed. “As I suspected,” he said. “That prophecy shall not come to pass. The Dragon will fade into nothingness, and my blood will course through the veins of all future kings.”
“You are not even human,” Fianna spat. “You are little more than animal on two legs.”
Igraina gave her a sharp look, turning her head slightly as a warning. Fianna slumped back down, knowing her outburst would serve only to anger the king even more. But, as she closed her eyes, she heard the king’s sigh as he approached her closely.
“Such words,” he said. “I know you mean them, but I will not fault you for them. They are the truth, as we all know. I am not human. I am something better; something stronger, fiercer, and made to rule. Humanity will fall, I swear this.”
“Kill her quickly,” Igraina said. “Lest she call upon her Dragon.”
Fianna opened her eyes again and saw the king’s glare. Though her heart raced with terror, she stood strong, not wavering in her stance. T’kar grinned, turning as a soldier brought him a great scourge. Fianna’s stare remained, though she knew the terrible pain she was about to endure. She could almost feel Igraina weep on the inside, but she knew Mother Igraina would take some of her pain in her magical way. Even a dark sorceress such as she would not allow her queen to suffer.
“I am ready,” Fianna said. “But I will not cry out. I will not give you that.”
T’kar chuckled, snapping the scourge before him and walking back toward the crowd.
“Your pain will be great,” Igraina whispered. “I cannot take it all away. I am sorry, my love.”
“I will endure it,” Fianna said. “I will not allow my son to suffer.”
“He will be safe,” Igraina said. “I promise you. He will return to reclaim your bloodline. It is written.”
She winked at Fianna. The queen knew that there was no prophecy. It was all for the king’s benefit. Only time would truly tell her child’s fate.
“Blood!” T’kar shouted to the crowd.
The sickened souls that gathered among the peasants cried out in a deafening roar. Fianna looked out over them as best she could, seeing the hate in their eyes. The others, forced to be there against their will, wept, covering their faces with their scarred, dirty hands.
T’kar cracked the scourge again as he turned. The crowd’s lustful cries drove him on, and he raised his fist into the air in triumph.
“This kingdom is mine!” he shouted.
The crowd raged again, this time louder, as if others had joined in. T’kar approached Fianna, going around behind her, his laughter mocking and tormenting her. Igraina moved in front of her, catching her gaze. Fianna focused on her eyes, as she knew this was the only way to maintain Mother Igraina’s spell. She could see the sympathy in Igraina’s eyes, and the small tear that began to form.
The first crack sounded, and a jolt of intense pain slammed into Fianna’s body. It felt as if she had been hit by lightning, and the sting of it lingered. Igraina’s lower lip trembled as she absorbed some of the pain. It was not enough, however, and Fianna’s urge to cry out in pain nearly overtook her. But Igraina’s eyes popped open, and her brow narrowed.
“Keep silent,” she whispered through her teeth.
The second crack sounded, and the jolt of agony racked Fianna’s body again. She trembled greatly, fighting the pain as best she could. Igraina’s eyes widened again, and Fianna could hear her inner cries of torment.
But still, much of the pain was hers.
T’kar laughed manically behind her. Through her haze she felt the warm flow of blood run down her back. The pain was constant now, and the sting of exposed underflesh spread through her body like flame.
The third crack sounded, and she felt her ribs break with the impact. Still, she endured the pain, gritting her teeth and maintaining eye contact with Igraina. Mother Igraina’s own pain was becoming unbearable, but she persisted. Trembling and crying, she stared into Fianna’s eyes. Her tears flowed freely now, as did Fianna’s own.
As another jolt came, Fianna’s pain began to fade. Though she felt the heavy flow of blood, and heard it dripping at her feet, the pain was numbed somehow. Even Igraina’s expression softened, as if someone else was there to take it away.
Through her haze, and the continued cracking of the scourge, Fianna saw a dark figure standing near the edge of the platform. It was a familiar sight to her. The figure was tall, heavily muscled, and dark-haired—like her son, and the blue of his eyes was brighter than usual, tripled in intensity. She knew he had come to her to take her pain, and the sight of him tugged at her dying heart.
“Dagda, my love,” she whispered under her breath.
Igraina’s eyes widened again, but she maintained her lock. A slight smile spread across her face; one of relief, or something else entirely.
“Come to me, my love,” Dagda whispered, his voice smooth and welcoming. “I will protect you. Daegoth is safe.”
Igraina turned away, moving out of her sight. But Fianna maintained her vision, smiling with joy as she watched the dark man stand over her, a loving smile across his handsome face. She felt the chains being unlocked from her wrists, and fell to her knees, kneeling in her own blood, her vision swimming as it slowly faded.
“Give the child to me,” she heard T’kar say.
The simulacrum was brought to him, and he stepped in front of Fianna, blocking her vision of her love. T’kar glared down at her, his face taking on the appearance of the beast he was. He tore the blanket from the bundle, holding the false child by the back of the neck. It squirmed and cried out as it hung there, and T’kar laughed at its terror.
“This is your child,” he said. “It is not mine. But I will take it from you.”
To Fianna’s horror, T’kar drew his dagger across the child’s throat. It gagged and choked as he held it there for her to see. But she did not cry out as he had hoped. Fianna knew, and trusted, that her true child was with Cohlein, safe and out of the beast’s reach.
“How disappointing,” T’kar said.
He casually tossed the dying child into Fianna’s arms. She caught it, snuggling it to her naked bosom, hiding its true nature from him.
“Oil,” T’kar said.
A guard brought him a flagon of oil, and as he pulled the cork from its spout, he showed her his beastly smile one last time.
“From Hell he came,” he said. “To Hell he shall return.”
He poured the oil over them as he chuckled wickedly. Fianna closed her eyes and nuzzled the child, shutting down her mind when she felt the warm fluid splashing over her body. She knew this was truly the end. Soon, her pain would be gone, and she would be in the arms of her love.
She smiled as the light of a torch danced on the stonework before her.
“I am coming, my love,” she whispered.
Cohlein heard the deafening screams from outside the city walls. Though she knew Igraina would endure some of Fianna’s pain, the final torment would have to be hers alone. Fortunately it would not last long.
But it tore out Cohlein’s heart nonetheless.
“Oh, my queen,” she whispered as she looked down at Daegoth’s squirming form. “I am sorry for your pain. I will protect your son with my life. I will see to his safety.”
Fianna’s screams died down, overcome by the barbaric shouts of the crowd that had gathered. She felt glad that it was finally over, but it still tore at her soul. She had loved the queen, and could not bear the thought of her torment. Her only consolation was knowing that death had finally come to her, and her suffering was no more.
Now, she stood outside the city, desperate and alone. T’kar would ask of her whereabouts, she knew, but Igraina would convince him that her absence was of no consequence. She was merely a terrified handmaiden that had fled in fear. He would soon forget her once Igraina seduced him. He would forget everything.
She began down the rocky path with no destination in particular. Igraina had told her to flee to the north; to find the Riverfolk and seek passage cross the channel to the nearby island. There, Igraina had said, she would find her destination, and a safe place for Daegoth to grow into the man he was destined to be. But what of her? What of the terrible seed that was also destined to grow? Could she bear the child of the Beast King? Could she simply root it out, kill it?
Or would it consume her from the inside?
“Enough!” she told herself as she fled down the path.
Nothing mattered at the moment except getting Daegoth to safety. She could not weep for her queen. She could not let anyone know who she was, or where she was going. She simply had to get there, pregnant or not.
Daegoth would be safe. This she swore.
It was long after nightfall by the time Cohlein found the river that would take her toward the shore. She would have to follow it for at least a day, though, before she ran across the Riverfolk. Although they lived in solitude near the southern side of the Droma Mountains, they sometimes ventured farther south to fish, being careful to stay out of sight of the king's troops.
Once she reached them, she knew she would be safe. Though the land north of T'kar's keep was considered wild and dangerous by the locals, she had heard the legends of strange folk in the forest who kept travelers safe from harm. They were small people, supposedly left behind by the Sidhe who were rumored to live in the forest. It was these small folk that had built the ancient bridge that crossed the river far to the north, and the mysterious black tower that loomed above the smaller peaks of the mountains.
Dol Drakkar it was called.
Though Mother Igraina had spoken of the tower many times, even she in her infinite wisdom could not divine its purpose. There were rumors of it being an ancient temple of the small folk, or even the Sidhe themselves, but nothing that could be believed.
There was another legend that was whispered among the peasants of a lone wanderer who frequented the forests. He was rumored to be some kind of priest of nature; one who lived in the wild, and protected all who dwelt within the forest. Like the other legends, however, it was likely just that; a legend.
None of these rumors mattered at the moment. All that mattered to Cohlein was that she uphold her promise to get Daegoth to safety. Why Mother Igraina had chosen the nearby island was a mystery, though. There was nothing there, Cohlein knew, only wild men; savage barbarians like the Beast King himself. It was there that T'kar was likely born, as the descriptions she had heard of the beasts that dwelt there were strikingly similar to T'kar; beast-like, hairy, barbaric and possessing a strangely uncharacteristic intellect.
Not to mention, the tendency toward devouring human flesh.
The thought of it made her shiver. But she realized those shivers were likely from the cold. The river itself was shrouded in colder air, and the mist that blew from its lazy course was cold as well. She would have to find shelter for the night, lest she and the baby freeze to death.
Ahead, she could see the north edge of the forest, where the landscape changed to the rocky paths of the mountains. The river flowed north there, through the peaks, under the bridge, and forked off somewhat far to the north. The left fork, she had heard, went toward the stran
ge black tower. The right fork went on through the mountains and onward to the sea.
It was there she would find passage to the island. Perhaps.
For now, one of the small caves in the sandstone cliffs nearby would make a good shelter for the night. She found one close enough to the river to keep watch, but concealed enough by shrubbery that they could hide in safety. It was shallow, but curved somewhat after its opening, with a small enough area to heat with her gems.
She carefully set down the baby, using her hands to sweep the floor clean. She took a few fire gems from her pack, activating their magic by rubbing them together in her hands, and held Daegoth close as she snacked on dried meats and nuts. When she was finished, she leaned against the stone wall, wrapped herself and the baby in her cloak, and drifted off to sleep.
"Where is the child?" T'kar demanded, grasping Igraina by the throat.
She stared at him, unflinching, as his anger grew. She was amused by his temper, and felt not a single speck of fear. The king was a pathetic excuse for a leader, and nothing he ever did frightened her in the slightest. However, in order to keep Cohlein and Daegoth safe, she feigned concern.
"You killed the child, my king," she said. "I watched you do it. We all watched you do it."
T'kar's eyes narrowed skeptically. His upper lip curled into a sneer, and he kept his eyes locked on her, waiting for her to break. She did not. That seemed to fuel his rage ever more.
"Your handmaiden fled, did she not?"
"She did," Igraina said. "Out of fear. You killed two of the midwives. Of course she fled."
T'kar let go of her, turning away and going to his balcony to look out over the stiffening corpses that stood impaled outside the eastern gates. Igraina glared at him from behind, half tempted to push him over the railing and watch him splatter on the rocks below. The thought brought a smile to her lips.
"She is out there, somewhere," T'kar said. "And that devil child is with her."
How did he know? Igraina thought.
"I will find her," he continued. "I will find her, and she will suffer the same fate as the queen."
Dawn of the Dragon Page 2
