He had survived the night, creeping through the dark alleys and killing over a dozen of the traitors that had risen against Queen Taube. He and his fellow Dragon Skull Knight, Donavan, had also battled several Vykings and left their bodies in an alleyway not far from the lifts above Hoffnung Bay. Somehow, during their battles against the Vykings, he and Donavan became separated.
Caen had planned to keep killing the Vykings as they came up in the lifts until he watched Waxxon exit with two larger Vykings that wore fancier armor and weapons. That was when he discovered that Waxxon had a role in the fall of Hoffnung.
Caen followed the three from a distance, slinking into the shadows behind some bushes, trying to find an opportunity to kill Waxxon and the two men that he later learned to be the sons of King Obed. Once that revelation came to him, he wanted them dead immediately, but dozens of Vykings swarmed the city streets. And the vast numbers of Vykings and overzealous guards were more than he could avoid.
Since the sun had risen, Caen realized that he needed to get out of Hoffnung before he was spotted. Staying here, loyal to Queen Taube and King Erik, served no purpose if he died. His pledge to the Dragon Skull Order meant that whenever Hoffnung was attacked, each member of the Order was to group together to rally armies to battle back and destroy the enemy.
He had decided to hide in a wagon of loose hay until morning, find comrades to aid him, and hunt down Waxxon. When morning came, he discovered finding comrades wasn’t that easy. Most were dead, or the fortunate ones, had fled the city during the night.
Making his way down a narrow alley behind several taverns, a muffled cry for help caught his attention. He slid his blade from its sheath, placed his back against the wall, and edged closer to the shadowed opening behind a wagon of empty ale barrels.
Cloth ripped. The young lady gasped, crying. Caen stepped around the corner into plain sight. The woman’s pleading eyes met his angered gaze. Two Vykings stood, eyeing her as she struggled to cover herself with her hands while they held her torn garments. Caen cleared his throat.
The Vykings turned, still dressed, not having yet violated her, and they gave Caen sneers. “Come to watch, young dog?” the one Vyking asked.
Caen’s piercing blue eyes glanced at the scared maiden and then back to the Vyking that had spoken.
“Not at all,” Caen replied, stepping into a defensive stance with his sword pointed.
The Vykings exchanged glances and broke into laughter. “Best take that little knife to spread butter on your loaf of bread.”
Both Vykings pulled their heavy swords and faced him. The maiden grabbed her torn clothing off the dusty cobblestone and squatted against the rough wooden wall, hiding beneath the garments.
One Vyking had a thick black mane tied neatly down his back. This one studied Caen and said, “You don’t wear the armor like Waxxon’s men. Whom are you allied with?”
An even smile parted Caen’s short blonde beard as he said, “With whom I’m in league should not be your concern. What should concern you is how painful your death shall be.”
“The tiny dog barks loudly,” the second Vyking with a reddish-gray beard said.
The first replied, “Let’s send him running like the frightened pup that he is.”
Caen stood boldly. Both Vykings approached.
Caen laughed.
“What humors you?” the Vyking asked.
“You say that I’m frightened of you, but it takes the two of you to fight me? That would mean you two are clearly afraid of me. Would it not?”
The red-haired Vyking lowered his sword and stepped aside. “Is that better?” he asked.
Caen shrugged. “It just means that you die second.”
Both Vykings narrowed their gazes. “You humans tend to think too highly of yourselves. Much like Waxxon. No matter. You tend to forget what our race is capable of.”
When he finished the statement, Caen’s blade sliced through the air. The tip of his sword cut through the Vyking’s black-knotted beard. The long braid of bound hair dropped to the ground. The Vyking stared down at the remnant of his beard in surprise. He had not even seen Caen’s blade move.
Caen smiled. “That could have easily been your throat.”
Madness creased the Vyking’s face as he touched the stubby tip of his black beard. His free hand tightened into a broad fist. He growled and approached Caen swiftly.
Caen deflected the Vyking’s first blow, but the force the Vyking used, knocked Caen backwards. The clanging metal rattled and jarred Caen’s hand. Pain radiated up his arm, so he tossed the sword to his left hand. He shook his head and allowed a slight smile.
“That’s the best you have?” Caen asked, not revealing his pain or surprise. He pointed the blade toward his opponent. “Perhaps I should use my weaker hand.”
Anger surfaced in the Vyking’s eyes. He swung the sword fiercely. Caen parried but moved back with the blow to lessen the impact. When the Vyking countered with another downward blow, Caen rolled and came up behind the giant. He planted the hard sole of his boot into the Vyking’s back and shoved.
“Dog!” the Vyking shouted as he stumbled forward. He turned and approached again.
Caen realized his mistake in making such a move. He now stood between the Vykings and since he mockingly was getting the better of the one, he expected the red-bearded one to join the fight as well.
And he did.
Caen sidestepped toward the center of the alleyway, drawing both Vykings toward him. He glanced at the maiden and offering a slight nod, he winked and said, “Run.”
The young woman nodded, shoved herself to her feet, and pushed off the wall. She ran down the alley with her torn clothes covering her front as she moved.
“Now that’s she’s gone,” Caen said, “we can abandon this silly fight we have going here.”
“Hardly,” the black-haired Vyking said, pressing closer.
“I feared you’d say something like that.” Caen kept himself positioned where he could watch them both with his peripheral vision. With a sly boyish grin and a refined tone, he mockingly added, “But still two against one? Does that boost your confidence? Maybe the bravery of your raids is quite overstated. Prey on the weaker and brag that you’re such strong warriors.” Caen shook his head with disappointment. “And here I thought I was fighting worthy opponents.”
“You bore us with your words. Choose one of us, and the other will wait his turn.”
“You’ve already conceded one of you as the loser? Perhaps this is easier than I thought,” Caen said with a feigned sigh.
Impatience got the best of the black-haired Vyking. His jaw clenched tightly and he said, “Choose!”
Caen lowered his sword, stuck the tip on the cobblestone, and leaned atop the hilt with both hands. He causally sized each one up.
“Well?”
Caen said, “Let me think. Let me think. Such a hard choice.”
The red-bearded Vyking glared at him. “Why is it hard?”
“Well,” Caen said. “I’d rather fight the best of you two first. I’d hate to die at the hand of the lesser. Records of such a death would be an embarrassment to my lineage. Tell me which of you is the better fighter? So we can begin.”
“That would be I,” the black-haired Vyking said evenly. He stepped forward and gripped the hilt of his long sword in both hands.
“What?” Red-beard exclaimed, grabbing the other Vyking’s shoulder and turning him.
“It’s true, Doth.”
“Sammis, it is I,” Doth seethed.
“I’ve killed twice the men that you have,” Sammis said, facing Doth with growing rage. “Twice, if not more!”
Doth shook his head. He shoved his thick finger into Sammis chest and said, “Nay, I say!”
Caen stepped back, waved his hands, and said, “Numbers mean nothing in this. I’m talking about skill with a sword.”
“Keep out of this!” Sammis said.
Caen waved his hands, bowed slightly, and grabbed his sword. “Sorry
. But perhaps you can fight one another and show me which of you is better?”
Sammis nodded, took a step back, and raised his heavy sword in an offensive stance toward Doth. Doth responded in kind. They charged one another. Their blades struck harshly, sparks flying. They parried, countered, and struck again and again.
“Come now,” Caen said. “I can better either of you like that.”
Doth charged Sammis, striking swords, and then spun around, backhanding Sammis with his free hand. The black-haired Vyking’s head turned sharply from the blow. Blood spewed from his nose and mouth. Anger possessed Sammis. His rage urged him to seek vengeance for the cheap shot.
Caen smiled, watching the two giants attack one another. The madder they became, the less they noticed the Dragon Skull Knight. Caen slipped across the alleyway, found a ladder, and made his way to the thatched roof of a tavern. While the two Vykings continued battling with blades, he crept along the rooftop until he neared the stables. Faintly in the distance their angered growls and striking sounds echoed. He wondered how long the two would fight before they realized he had escaped them.
Chapter Fifteen
Nessa’s ghost slinked through the Royal Gardens. She mourned for the loss of her queen, and that she’d have to let Dawn continue onward without her.
“Poor, Lady,” she said softly as she moved through the fragrant red roses. “Tis better this way, though. I wouldn’t have been much help to you, Lady Dawn. I was old and frail.”
Through the gardens she moved like a near invisible wisp of smoke, lingering with what remained of the morning fog. She followed the trail out of the gardens onto an aged cobblestone street.
The morning sun peeked over the edge of Hoffnung’s towers. A bright ray of light kissed the open window of the temple tower where their priestess, Renee, stood facing the rising sun. Radiance beamed around her in almost a white light brighter than the sun’s first light.
Nessa hovered over the road, watching Priestess Renee raise her hands, close her eyes, and pray.
To whom did she pray? Nessa wondered. Not one of the goddesses had intervened when Hoffnung had needed them the most.
She drifted closer to the Temple of the Three Goddesses. This temple had been the first building erected when Hoffnung was settled centuries before. According to legend, three giant statues of the sister goddesses had been unearthed by the first king, Illiread. He believed the discovery was the greatest good omen his people could have discovered after their almost disastrous voyage from the South Seas. The goddesses were the reason they had been spared, and the king decreed that they were meant to settle there.
One of their exploration ships had crashed against the rocky reefs off the shore of Belshast. Due to the poor soil and lack of wood in Belshast, they followed the shoreline until they came to the high rising mountains that ended atop an expansive level plateau. Scouts explored the higher plateau and reported back to the king about the unbelievable view over the sea and an overwhelming calm that had washed over their souls. After he viewed the area for himself, he declared they set the new kingdom there. An ample amount of stone enabled them to build quickly on site, and soon after they began, they found the statues. From the moment Illiread saw them, he never hesitated in demanding they be erected and shrouded within a shrine. They, he had expressed, were the reason for the immense tranquility that hovered over the land.
The great temple was built around the three sister goddesses in the center of Hoffnung with the palace erected to the east. A massive brick wall enclosed the temple yard.
Nessa recalled the legend, but she had never seen the inside of the temple. In fact, the majority of the kingdom never had either. To be found on the holy grounds without royal permission was punishable by death, which she had always thought odd. Most temples were places where people worshipped, but not in Hoffnung.
Iron gates remained locked. Only by a royally granted appointment did anyone enter the yards to gain access to the temple, which was seldom. The temple served more as a mystery than where people worshipped. Citizens were only allowed to worship outside the closed gates, as the power of the goddesses was far too great for mere mortals to withstand. Only one mortal had been blessed enough to live inside the temple. The three sister goddesses had chosen and ordained Priestess Renee to intervene on their behalf.
Gargoyles and other frightening statues lined the top of the high walls. Their fixed eyes glinted in the morning light, and although a ghost, Nessa held apprehension as she moved closer toward them. The menacing stone protectors appeared capable of devouring and digesting ghosts, sending them into a void where they’d never find peace or escape.
Nessa drifted closer anyway. Death had already taken her, and she didn’t expect anything could be worse than her present state of wandering. She rose and hovered briefly before the face of a carved demon face. Dewdrops rolled down the aged rock and dripped from its broad nose. Other than that, the statue remained still.
She floated past its hideous face and dipped downward. She rather liked flying. No need bothering with doors or stairs either. She entered the temple by pressing herself through the solid wall, which met her without any resistance. In an instant she was on the other side near a large fountain where the three-goddess statues faced a circular pool.
Since she’d never been inside the temple, she wanted to examine their images. The giant goddess statues were unclothed beauties hewn from gray granite and polished smoother than glass. Each goddess was positioned slightly bent forward with their right hands extended and palms upward. Their lips were shaped as if they were blowing kisses. From their open lips narrow streams of liquid spilled out and cascaded downward into the pool.
Nessa drifted to the first statue that shot a clear stream of holy water into the pool. Her eyes glowed white, revealing her purity, and those that sought her, were seekers of the Light. If her memory served her correctly, this was Ofphy, the Goddess of Light.
The next statue’s eyes were yellow. Yellow bile streamed from her lips and flowed into the circular pool. She was Noxraura, the Goddess of Indifference.
Looking upon the third goddess made Nessa gasp in sheer fright. The crimson red eyes illuminated and glowed with frightening evil, and this goddess stood directly across from Ofphy. Thick red blood flowed from her lips in a stream that also flowed into the pool. This goddess was Una, the Goddess of Darkness.
Nessa looked into the circular pool and although there was no divider in the pool, the colored liquids didn’t mix with one another, almost like a magical barrier prevented them from doing so.
She marveled at how these great statues represented the deities of Hoffnung, and yet, she wondered about what power, if any, they governed.
Nessa left the fountain and drifted toward the balcony where Priestess Renee stood silently in prayer. Her long brown hair flowed down her back and stopped at the back of her knees. Her smooth pale skin glowed.
The priestess seemed to sense her presence. Her eyelids fluttered and suddenly opened.
“Who are you?” Renee asked, looking around.
“Do you see me?” Nessa asked.
The priestess shook her head. “No, but I can hear you. I sense you. Who are you and what purpose do you have here?”
“I’m Nessa, godmother of Lady Dawn.”
Renee’s pale face became two shades lighter. Fear tightened around her eyes. “You’ve come to kill me, haven’t you?”
“Why do you say that?”
“For allowing the kingdom to fall.”
“How is that your doing?”
Renee placed her hands on the stone balcony ledge. She peered out over Hoffnung and shook her head. She bowed her head and tears dripped like sporadic raindrops to the ground below.
“Because it is true. As mediator between the goddesses and the Queen, I failed in my duties to warn her of impeding danger.”
“You knew?”
The priestess stood, wiped tears from her eyes, and nodded. “I had my suspicions. I’
ve allowed things to happen secretly that I should never have agreed to.”
“Such as?”
“It’s too horrible a thing I’ve done. But, I knew the kingdom was divided, and I didn’t do what I was chosen to do.”
“Why would the goddesses allow our kingdom to fall like it has?”
“Not all did. Just one,” Renee said softly.
“Una?”
Fear seized Renee. She placed a finger to her lips. A look of madness swirled in her eyes and her frantic voice said, “Careful. She’ll hear you.”
“What do you know?” Nessa asked sternly.
“I cannot say,” Renee replied. “Worse things will befall me.”
“Than what?”
“You’ve been sent to haunt me. Queen Taube is dead, and if you’re truly the spirit of Lady Dawn’s godmother that tells me that all is lost. Dawn is dead.”
“What? No. I must tell you—”
Renee shook her head and clamped her hands over her ears. “No. Don’t utter any words. Speak no more while you’re here. Una has separated herself from her two sisters. She has turned against all. If you have any good news about Dawn, do not speak it. Una will hear.”
Nessa sensed the priestess had suffered mental anguish of some sort, but her mind had been troubled far longer than just the night before when Hoffnung fell. Perhaps she had been locked inside the temple far too long.
A gentle gray dove fluttered and landed on the tallest branch of a fir tree near the balcony. It cooed twice.
Nessa’s form eased closer to Renee. She whispered, “What makes you think Una has forsaken all?”
“Shh!” Renee said with wide eyes.
A door slammed inside the tower and echoed up the spiral staircase. Metal scraped across each stone step as someone ascended.
“Queen Taube, forgive me for betraying you!” the priestess said. She flung herself off the balcony to the garden walkway below. Her body moved no more. Blood pooled beneath her body.
The footsteps came closer. Metal scraped. Nessa left the balcony and returned to the fountain where the three-goddess sisters’ statues stood. An armored man stepped into the room, knelt, and bowed to the image of Una.
Lady Squire- Dawn's Ascension Page 12
