The one thing he disliked about being a dwarf was his short and wide stature. It prevented the agility and nimbleness that most humans and elves possessed. Trudging into the forest, he was bound to snap twigs and branches as he ran and possibly tripped. Without ample light, he hoped that Sissrow was doing the same so he could track the man’s whereabouts without rushing blindly through the trees.
Boldair ripped away another huge hunk of meat in his teeth and tossed the bone behind him. He hefted his ax causally in both hands and listened. About fifteen yards away dried twigs snapped, crunched. Sissrow released angered curses as he fought his way through the dead underbrush and thorny bramble. Seemed he was as clumsy in his pursuit as Boldair knew he would be had he taken to running. Knowing where Sissrow was, gave Boldair a slight advantage. Sissrow’s rage meant he’d kill Viorka if he found her, but the cat was fast, sleek, and sprightly. She could stealthily move through the trees and shrubs quietly, and being a cat, she could see in the darkness whereas Sissrow and Boldair could not.
He wanted to help Viorka, but she was probably much deeper in the woods. Going after her meant he’d have to confront Sissrow, possibly kill Sissrow, in order to catch up with the cat.
Boldair stood on tiptoe, trying to see if he could find Sissrow’s shadow in the waning moonlight. Nothing.
A soft giggle mewed behind him. He turned to see Viorka standing with the orb in her paw-like hands. She had circled back. A wide grin spread on her face. She scrunched her button nose, making her whiskers rise slightly.
“Here you go,” she whispered. “Destroy it now. He’ll be searching through the thicket for hours.”
“Aye, you’re one sneaky cat.” He chuckled heartily beneath his breath.
Viorka sniffed the air. “Did you save me some?”
“Oh!” Boldair winced. He smacked his forehead with his stubby hand. “Sorry. The bone’s over there on the ground.”
Viorka smiled and handed the orb to Boldair. Sniffing, she dropped to all fours and meandered through short bushes until she found the bone. She nibbled at the remaining little strands of meat without complaint.
Boldair held the orb and it glowed to life. He made the mistake of looking into its glass. Chills rushed through him, overtaking the lingering burning sensation of the drink. He felt powerful the longer he gazed into the magical ball. The orb showed him his truest desires. Gold, silver, gems, and trinkets piled higher than a dragon’s head. Lust for gold tugged at his heart. His mouth watered and his heart raced. These were the treasures from Taniesse and her sisters’ lairs. His. Forever.
Viorka noticed his hesitation. The dwarf’s eyes were different, possessed by greed and lust for power.
“Come on,” Viorka said, dropping the meatless bone to the forest floor. “Bash the orb with your ax.”
“Oh, now, let’s not get hasty.” Boldair’s voice was gruff and much different.
“You promised Taniesse!” She reached for the orb, but Boldair shoved her aside.
His eyes glazed beneath a silvery sheen. His jaw became tighter. “Taniesse held me prisoner for over two days. It’s time I imprison her and keep her treasures for myself.”
“No!” Viorka said. “You can’t! Hand it back!”
She grabbed for the orb, but he held it out of her reach. She jumped and slashed at his face with her long sharp claws. He grabbed her by the throat and held her up to look into his eyes.
“Ye just watch me,” he hissed in a venomous tone.
Viorka swallowed hard. Looking into his eyes, she realized Boldair was no longer the one talking. A darker power controlled and spoke through him. One that meant to do great harm once it had Taniesse under its control. She fought uselessly and struggled to break free of his tight grasp.
Boldair tightened his hand around her throat and squeezed. Viorka feared he’d crush her throat with his incredibly strong grip, but instead, he flung her away. Her back struck a massive oak, as did the back of her head. She squealed. The impact knocked the air from her tiny lungs. She slid down the tree’s trunk into the thick leafy underbrush and lay unconscious.
Boldair marched through the trees and found his way back to the dark path, far out of the view of the folks standing at the traders’ post. Greed and lust for wealth and power consumed him. The orb’s connection to his mind revealed that Boldair was friends with a dragon and knew where she was. Immediately the Dark Orb of Misthalls insisted that he return to Taniesse. Nothing else occupied his thoughts except that he needed to walk faster. He picked up his pace. With a dragon at his command, there wasn’t anything or any army he would fear.
Chapter Thirty-five
Lady Dawn awakened and opened her eyes. Darkness was all she saw. For a few fleeting moments, she had thought she had awakened from a horrible dream and was still in her palace room. From the other side of the room, Caen’s snoring told her differently.
The center of her back ached, throbbing slightly. The pain had awakened her. She was careful not to turn or move too quickly. Sarey was right. The injury would take some time to heal properly.
Her thoughts shifted to Mousy. She wondered how the small boy fared. He was too young to suffer the labor and torture he was enduring. Then she thought about Balo. She truly hoped the obese stable master hurt much worse than she did. She had inflicted some painful lacerations upon him, but unfortunately she didn’t have his strength to cause equal damage. The more she thought about the stable master’s abusiveness, the more she liked the idea of getting back the throne. Balo would pay for his crimes. The justice would be far worse than his mangled arm and whip lashes.
Dawn knew that neither of her parents would have defended the harsh beatings and floggings on children. Nor would she. Of course, their judgments upon Balo might have been as severe as the ones she pictured. Perhaps more. She didn’t know, but she had watched her mother enact extreme punishments to fit the crimes of cruel people in Hoffnung.
She listened to Caen snore. She smiled. Her secrets and her ache to tell him swelled inside her. She couldn’t wait to reveal the truth about who she really was. More than anything she wondered what his reaction would be, but telling him wouldn’t come soon. Taking back a kingdom might take years. But she hoped not. It had only taken the Vykings less than a few hours to capture her city, but she realized that the plot to overthrow the crown was something Waxxon had probably spent years putting together. His scheme didn’t come to fruition overnight.
Dawn needed armies quickly. Vast armies. Should they gather together within a few months, they had time to rush Hoffnung’s gates and reclaim the throne before Waxxon completely settled into power. It was best to counter during the unrest, when Waxxon was reorganizing and he least expected it.
Still deep in thought, she eased slightly to her side to take pressure off of her back. Her mother had made some sort of peace treaty years before with the Vyking King, Obed. What had changed? Why had they willingly decided to aid Waxxon in his pursuit of the throne? What had Waxxon promised the Vykings?
The Vyking tribes were plunderers and not fortress takers. She had learned that from her history tomes. Their role in Hoffnung’s fall was only temporary, if anything at all. Exactly what did they stand to gain with Waxxon on the throne?
Dawn eased into a sitting position at the edge of the bed and set her feet on the cold hardwood floor. Her mind was too active to return to sleep. Faintly, outside the tavern, roosters crowed.
Morning, already?
She rubbed her eyes. A gentle rapping tapped the door. A second later, Sarey peered in.
“You awake?” Sarey asked.
“Yes.”
“Caen?”
“Still asleep.”
“Well, squire, do your duty and wake him.” Sarey entered the room with folded cloth under one arm. She struck a match and lit the oil lantern. “We eat and go to the training yard. You want to learn how to use weapons, do you not?”
The room brightened, but Caen snored, undisturbed. She set fresh linens on t
he small table near the lantern.
“Of course I want to learn,” Dawn replied. “Caen said that he wanted to go to the bathhouse before we train.”
Sarey glanced toward Caen. She noticed the firmness beneath his thin loincloth and quickly faced Dawn. She blushed and swallowed hard. “I’ll leave you to awaken him. Be aware that a part of him already is.”
Dawn glanced at Caen and realized what Sarey was hinting about. She blushed redder than Sarey had.
Sarey held the edge of the door and said, “I must say that I’m rather envious of your . . . duties. Awaken him, escort him to the bathhouse, and then join us downstairs afterwards for breakfast. This evening I will dress your injury again. I brought you each clean tunics and leggings.”
Dawn stood. Uneasiness reflected in her eyes and her gestures. “I have to go with him to the bathhouse?”
“Only if he requests.” Sarey’s eyebrows rose, and she gave a sly grin. “Aren’t you curious enough to want to?”
The door closed and Sarey was gone before Dawn had a chance to reply. Truthfully, she was not ready to know or to verbally admit or deny anything.
Dawn eased closer to the side of Caen’s bed. She fought glancing at his bulging loincloth, but her curiosity lured her. She couldn’t look away. After a few seconds she realized that she had been holding her breath and suddenly she released a long pent up sigh.
Caen turned slightly on the bed, and she jumped back, afraid that he might have noticed her staring at him. To her relief, his eyes didn’t open. He snored again, but softer.
Flustered, she placed a hand onto his shoulder and shook him.
Caen bolted awake. In one fluid, swift moment, his hand grabbed Dawn’s wrist and pulled her toward him. She thought if he had had a weapon, he’d have killed her without thought. He was still in that stage between sleep and being awake, perhaps even on the edge of a nightmare.
“It’s me, Donne.” She placed a gentle hand upon his nude chest.
Caen blinked a couple of times until recognition calmed him.
“It’s morning,” she said. “Sarey gave the wakeup call. You did want to go to the bathhouse before breakfast?”
He released his hold on her and nodded. “Yes. Thank you.”
“Will you . . . need my assistance?”
The cot sagged as he flung his feet over the edge and then he rubbed his eyes. He stretched and yawned. He studied her nervous eyes for several seconds. Finally, he shook his head. “No. I’m well capable of bathing myself.”
Dawn felt the tightness ease in her back muscles. She almost sighed aloud. Oh, thank the Goddesses.
“Sarey brought us fresh tunics and leggings.”
Caen rose and sorted through the wool clothing. “Do you know how to sharpen blades?”
“No.”
“Time for you to learn then.”
Dawn nodded. “Sure.”
“Take our swords and daggers, find Sarey, and have her direct you to the smith or she may have a whetstone she’ll let you use.”
Dawn began dressing. Caen grabbed the fresh garments, wrapped the bed sheet around him, and exited the room. Once Dawn dressed, she gathered the blades and hurried out to find Sarey.
While she was thankful he hadn’t required her assistance at the bathhouse, she was having a difficult time not thinking about him. Building curiosity teased at the back of her mind. Although she still claimed her innocence, Dawn realized she was no longer a child. She held questions inside and strong new desires were making themselves known. How long could she suppress these feelings? She didn’t know.
***
Botis straightened on his throne of ebony skulls. New magic rippled through his magical cave. Not his magic. Someone had crossed the barrier into his abode. The movement was slight, like a weak wisp of wind, but detectable just the same since the magic was not linked to him. A tiny trespasser lurked inside his magical cavern.
He wasn’t immediately worried since he did have magical guardians set at various entranceways inside his labyrinth of ever-changing passages. His greatest worry was what Tyrann now knew about him and his cavern channels. Had Tyrann sent a magical creature to spy on him, to venture through the passageways and map out the directions to Botis’ throne room?
Botis swallowed hard, fretting over the matter. In exchange for the magical ebony staff, Botis had foolishly allowed Tyrann access to his every thought, his magic, and all of his spells. He hissed loudly with internal anger at himself for allowing his lust for an object to control him, making him hastily and vulnerably bow before the Dark Prince and reveal all of his magical secrets. In essence, Botis had given his underground kingdom to Tyrann, and there was little he could do to prevent the Dark Prince from acquiring the Dark Chancellor’s throne.
Botis was surprised that Tyrann had actually made the trade and not killed Botis on the black altar in the City of Mortel. Tyrann had sacrificed less powerful sorcerers. Was that why part of the trade was Tyrann’s invasion of every private thought Botis stored inside his dark memories? Perhaps. But, Tyrann had allowed him to live, at least.
The more Botis thought about the trade, he began to realize that this cavern and all its magical chambers held little interest to the Dark Prince. Tyrann’s kingdom was in Aetheaon. The cavern to the Overlanders wasn’t an envious desire for the ruler of the City of Mortel. The Black Chasm displayed Tyrann’s reign of power.
Botis’ mind flicked back to the tiny trespasser. He had felt this presence before he had ventured into the Black Chasm to see Tyrann. This tiny invasion of magic wasn’t Tyrann’s because it wasn’t evil or dark. A creature of some sort had discovered a rift between realms and apparently was looking for its path back.
Closing his eyes, he sought to locate the source of the magic.
Earthly.
Fae!
A faery?
Botis stretched a serpent’s grin.
Inside his dungeon Botis kept prisoners and offered body parts of various creatures as sacrifices during his incantations in exchange for his dark power. Magic cost the summoner a price. The darkest of magics required blood or flesh to be offered. He housed numerous races and beasts in tiny cells to harvest whenever he needed to summon his master for the aid of dark magic. But he didn’t possess a single faery prisoner. He wished to imprison this one for trespassing into his cavern.
Gouthan, his guardian between Devils Den and his inner fortress, awakened. Botis focused, mentally reaching into the ethereal plane until he found that he could use Gouthan’s eyes as his own.
He saw the faery, but holding her was a human. A man.
“Odd.” Botis hissed.
She had gone between realms and was bringing an Overlander human back to her realm.
No, no, no. This could not be happening. He couldn’t allow it. Such an invasion was a complete violation of the Underworld. He doubted the Fae would allow a faery to tarnish their kingdoms or Aetheaon with the likes of an Overlander. And yet, she boldly approached the first entrance of his magical labyrinth with this . . . vile human.
On occasion, Overlanders accidentally happened into his territory because of drifting, sporadic rifts, but he readily captured them and used them for sacrifices over periods of time. Most of them lost their sanity long before they died, simply because the Overlanders chose not to believe that magical creatures existed.
Botis hissed a long, near silent laugh. Most Overlanders denied magic until the day they died, even after losing body part after body part. They failed to understand the amputations except for some inescapable nightmare. Their lack of belief didn’t lessen the rewards of his sacrificial offerings. The blessings and spewed curses came just the same.
Through Gouthan’s eyes he watched the human and faery approach. Other than the red glow of its eyes, his creature was hidden beneath an invisibility spell. Peering eyes inside a dark cave were often enough to frighten away Overlanders since they feared the dark more than any other creature in their world. But, this human, he was . . . dif
ferent. The eyes didn’t deter him. His determination didn’t waver. Had the faery entranced him with her spell, making him a slave to her will?
While that was a possibility, he doubted it. This man didn’t appear to be under anyone’s power, except his own. Why was he here, and why had the faery allowed him to see her? Fae were often too secretive to be seen, even when the sinister ones played tricks upon Overlander humans.
Botis thought for a few moments. If he could somehow persuade the human to give the faery to Gouthan in exchange for his own life, Botis could take the faery prisoner. Of course, the human would still die . . .
He prodded the thought into his pet’s mind.
In a low voice with an evil rumbling tone, Gouthan whispered, “Give the faery to me, and you may keep your life and flee.”
Nicely stated, Botis thought. A smile widened on his face. When faced with the threat of death, humans were hasty to push something else into the line of danger in order to escape with their own lives.
Not this one. To Botis’ surprise, the human and Gouthan exchanged harsh banter. A stubborn and foolish Overlander, this one; making threats against a magical, invisible creature. Such blatant boldness was unusual in an Overlander. A pity his reward would be death.
In an instant the faery flung blasts of her magical power that shredded the invisibility shield that hung around his beloved creature. The impact slammed against Gouthan so severely that it even rattled Botis deep inside his chamber.
The jarring sensation forced Botis’ poisonous fangs to protrude. He was ready to counterattack.
Gouthan countered with magical fire of his own. After his flame shots died, the human struck Gouthan in the throat with a dagger, killing his pet.
Botis felt the life drain from his creature. His vision dimmed, preventing him from seeing the human and faery advance or retreat. Botis flung his arms upward, chanted a few lines, and Gouthan’s dead body lay on the floor before his ebony throne of skulls.
Lady Squire- Dawn's Ascension Page 28
