Riese and Manfrid had gone down to the docks. At least three ships had not been damaged. Vykings that had survived the dragons’ fires begged Prince Manfrid for mercy and swore to turn their blades against King Obed as well. The Prince and Riese had less than fifty Vykings to strike against Obed’s vast numbers.
When Manfrid and Riese had requested taking the ships, she had told them that by race the vessels were theirs to take. She requested that they wait a week before departing because she wanted them at the inaugural feast. They agreed.
Dawn stood at the balcony’s edge. She watched Lehrling and Roble riding down the main street toward the gates. She had given them an extended invitation to stay at the castle, but Roble insisted that he return to Shawndirea and bring the faery back to Hoffnung for the ceremonies. She agreed.
She pondered about Roble’s marriage to the faery. Love was powerful, ignored races, and defied all logic. After all, if a faery had sacrificed her height and right to the throne because of her love for a human, there was hope for Dawn and Caen.
A gray dove lighted beside her on the balcony. It cooed and bobbed its head. She reached her hand toward it. She expected it to fly off, but instead, it allowed her to rub its breast with her fingers. The bird’s feathers were soft like silk. Its eyes closed as she stroked it.
After a few minutes, the dove flapped its wings and flew into the air. It spiraled overhead and descended to the marble balcony floor. Plumes of smoke swirled and when it cleared, her mother stood before her.
Dawn pushed herself to her feet and moved away from the balcony. She stared at the woman with wide eyes. “What is this? Who are you?”
“I’m your mother.”
Dawn shook her head. Tears formed in her eyes. “No. She fell to her death. I heard her scream.”
“Dawn, my dear child,” she said with a gentle smile. “I did fall from the window, but I didn’t die. I transformed into a dove and flew to safety. The guard . . . he didn’t survive.”
“How could you—” Dawn suddenly remembered her conversation with Queen Eril and that Queen Taube had been trained by her druid mother.
“It’s me,” Queen Taube said softly.
Still filled with uncertainty, she kept her distance. “If you’re my mother, why didn’t you come to me sooner?”
“I’ve watched you from the treetops several times. I accidentally frightened Sarey before she left Esgrove a couple of days ago. I’ve never abandoned you.”
Dawn stepped closer to her. “No, why did you stay in the dove form until after the war? Wouldn’t it have been more beneficial if everyone knew you were alive?”
Taube shook her head. “No. If I simply transformed back, I had no way to know which guards were loyal to Waxxon. Nessa had hidden you well. People would have recognized me immediately. But believe me, I wanted to appear before you so many times. I wanted to hold you when you cried in Esgrove after your spat with Caen, but Sarey was there for you.”
Dawn bit her lower lip. “You really were there. You saw that?”
Taube smiled with tears in her eyes. She held her arms out for her. Dawn rushed to her and embraced her tightly. They both sobbed.
“I love you so much,” Taube whispered.
“I love you, too.”
After a few minutes, Dawn eased back and looked into her mother’s eyes. “Queen Eril said that my grandmother is a druid?”
Taube nodded.
“She said that you were trained in magic, but you’ve never mentioned that to me. Is that how you were able to turn into a dove?”
“Yes. I’m a druid, but it’s not something I wanted others to know. Not even you. Taube means dove, which is my animal of choice as a druid. The bird also represents peace, and I’ve always strived to achieve that amongst the kingdoms.”
“Does that mean that I could learn?” Dawn asked.
Taube shrugged. “It’s possible, but it demands the majority of your time in order to learn and master such magic. There are other things in life that are more important.”
“Since you’re alive, I suppose this means that I don’t have to worry about the inaugural ceremony a week from now.”
“No,” Queen Taube replied. “But I’m wondering if we’ll be preparing for a wedding sometime in the near future?”
Dawn grinned. “Are you referring to Caen?”
Taube nodded.
“Not the near future,” Dawn said. “But perhaps a year or so from now, if he’s really interested in me.”
“He is. A mother knows.” She combed Dawn’s hair with her fingers. “Your hair is growing back and blonde, like mine.”
“I know.”
Taube embraced Dawn again. Tears burned in Dawn’s eyes. The warmth of her mother’s arms around her comforted her. All the fears, anger, and stress lifted. To have her mother back, still alive, meant more than almost anything else. There weren’t words to express the rising joy inside her.
“Another thing that has benefited Hoffnung during my supposed death,” Queen Taube said, pulling back from Dawn.
“What’s that?”
“The dragons have reemerged. I would love to talk to them. Hoffnung will be stronger.”
Dawn said, “The Dragon Skull Knights have suffered losses. I knighted one, but we need to recruit more.”
“I will leave that up to you,” Taube said. “Since you have seen firsthand which individuals possess the valor necessary to become such a knight.”
“We have many, but some are not from Hoffnung. Can we extend beyond our walls to add more from different races?”
Taube thought for a few moments. “I don’t think that’s a bad idea at all.”
***
Instead of an inaugural ceremony, guests arrived to the announcement of Queen Taube’s return. During the ceremony, Lady Dawn knighted new members into the Dragon Skull Order: Boldair, Dwiskter, Drucis, Odlon, and Sarey. She offered the honor to Riese, but he declined.
Her mother knighted her to be the leader of the Dragon Skull Knights, but she insisted that honor be bestowed upon Lehrling since he was the oldest and wisest.
Since Lady Dawn didn’t have to assume the throne, she and Caen traveled to Legelarid, which was one of the great cities she planned to visit. She expected the long journey would give her a better chance to learn more about him, and whether or not, she’d even consider marriage.
The End of Book 2
Epilogue
Sarey looked down at the docks from the lifts. Her heart ached. The news of Bausch’s death had devastated her, and she continued to grieve. But then, she witnessed Trevor’s death, which troubled her greatly, too, but in a different way.
Nothing Trevor could have said or done would have ever persuaded her to reconsider starting a new relationship with him. She might have been a friend to him, but now he was gone. She didn’t even have that anymore.
She stepped onto the lift and it took her down to the docks.
Riese and Manfrid stood aboard one of the Vyking ships while another Vyking untied the rope from the dock. The other two ships had already pulled away from the docks with nearly two dozen Vykings that had pledged their allegiance to Prince Manfrid.
She hurried to the edge of the dock. “Mind taking along another passenger?”
Riese cocked a brow, looking down at her. “We’re heading for war against King Obed on the Isles of Welkstone.”
“I know.”
“You really want to fight in another war?” he asked.
“I have nothing else here. I offer my bow to fight with you.”
“If you’re certain.”
“I am.”
Riese offered his hand. “Come aboard.”
***
“Shae’zar was captured and taken into the Black Chasm,” the female demon-hunter said to High Priestess Pan’zar.
Pan’zar looked concerned. “And what of the other five demon-hunters, Cass’zar?”
“They’re all dead.”
“Dead?”
Cass’zar nodded.
“I’m afraid that Shae’zar is on her own then.”
“I know, but there’s something more you need to know.”
“What is that?” Pan’zar asked with keen interest.
“Before the others were killed, she fled.”
“Fled? You’re certain of this?”
“Yes. She abandoned her post. Deserted us.”
Anger loomed in Pan’zar’s eyes. “She betrayed us. But why? This isn’t like her. I declare a decree that should she somehow survive and escape Tyrann that she be brought to me. She shall be put to death for her betrayal. Go. Spread the word.”
Cass’zar nodded, and as she turned away, she smiled. Her eyes tinted red when she stepped outside the priestess’ hut.
***
Waves crashed at the bottom of the deep cavern, lapping in their threatening whispers. The roar of the ocean echoed, which meant the tide was low. But each time the tide rose, the vacuum of the cave pulled the salty water upward, filling the passage to the first arc of the winding path.
The smell of rotten fish, human feces, and strong urine drifted through the spiral tunnel. A torch flickered, allowing faint light in this maddening maze where a lone prison cell lay hidden.
The iron prison bars were covered with barnacles, seaweed strands, and unsuccessful corrosion. On the rough coral floor a man’s hand patted its way to one of the iron bars. Feeble, filthy shriveled fingers wrapped around the metal. He tugged but knew it was useless. Magic held the bars tightly, and no amount of rust weakened the caster’s spell. In a few hours, he’d be waist deep in seawater again. At least when the water retreated with the tide, the cell floor would be partially cleansed of his wastes.
He barely held the strength and hope to survive another extremely swollen high tide should another angry storm pass near his cell of misery. Isolation from society tortured his mind, grieved his heart, and had almost broken his spirit.
Coughing and wheezing, he constantly prayed for death to take him, but his words never reached any god or goddess. Perhaps because he held no fear of death, they ignored him. Suffering sometimes gave deities pleasure. Entertaining games to see how much one endured before the mind and body finally died. But any plea he offered the divinities went unheard. Had magic sealed him off completely off from the realm?
A torch moved along the corridor, spilling the only light in this dismal cavern, and making him cringe and scoot toward the shallow corner, but he couldn’t make himself small enough. Invisibility fled. There wasn’t any way to hide.
He pulled his long beard through the sandy sea kelp, broken shells, and grit. He wrapped his beard into a ball, and set it upon his knees. He couldn’t remember the last time he had seen the sunlight. Sores and bubbled blisters covered his knees and elbows because he seldom had enough strength to stand. Due to the rising tides and the absence of sunlight, his skin never fully dried and stayed raw.
The torchlight brightened, flickered. Cascading odd shadows slinked along the carved coral passageway. No other creatures dared to enter this forsaken hole. He stopped yelling for help ages ago because the piercing ringing of his own voice reverberated and rattled harsher than a bell tower hammered by a lunatic.
Where he was, only his captor knew. And, he had no idea or clue where this coral prison in the angry sea was where he resided. The sound of the ocean never ceased or dulled in its wrath. Instead, the washing rhythm added to his growing lunacies that weren’t even aided with an occasional hallucination. Whenever he was graced with sleep, neither dream nor nightmare entertained him.
Without any hope, one usually died quickly, but for whatever reason, this general rule didn’t apply to him. He often wondered if he had become immortal or perhaps he simply was an imprisoned ghost trapped in between the realms or planes. That possibility weighed too well for him, and with the approaching torch, he knew it wasn’t true. His tormentor had returned.
The torch burned outside his cell. He shielded his eyes from the light as tears spilled down his scabbed cheeks where he had plucked out strands of his beard when the undulating sounds of the waves and his loneliness became overbearing.
The man with the torch laughed.
Braving a glance toward the light, a chattering sound caught his attention. His tormentor had brought a pet. With a leash attached to the spiny four-legged doglike demon, the foul-smelling creature pressed its face against the prison bars. Steam rose from the wet iron, and acid drool dripped from its oddly shaped mouth.
“Eleven years to the day,” the man said. “And yet, your people have long forgotten you.”
The prisoner took a deep breath of the acrid air, cleared his throat, and tried to moisten his dry cracked lips so that he could speak, but no sound came. He was parched.
“I can alleviate your thirst,” the man said, handing a skin pouch through the bars.
The prisoner’s hands shook as he reached for it. To his surprise, his tormentor didn’t pull it away. Eagerly he pulled the cork and smelled the contents. Nothing harshly resembled liquor or anything soured, but some poisons didn’t have a scent. At this point, death was a welcomed escape, but he still wondered.
No games this time? Was it was really water?
He tipped the contents enough to reach his finger, wet it, and then cautiously touched the liquid to his tongue.
Water.
He stared at his captor with surprise, speculating why this sudden change of heart from a being that had never shown any pity, remorse, or mercy.
Putting the opening of the skin to his lips, he poured the water into his mouth. Though lukewarm, he didn’t spit it out. He swallowed eagerly in spite of the stinging pain that came as the water trickled down his throat. Not from poison, but from the fact he had not drank any fluids in the days since his tormentor had last visited.
He drank the water so quickly that pain swelled inside his emaciated stomach. He tossed the empty skin to the bars, and took in a couple of breaths.
“Better?”
The prisoner coughed again and cleared his throat. This time sound rumbled within and he found his voice, albeit weak.
“Obed,” he whispered in what was a quiet rage. “Do you fear me this much?”
Obed frowned, and the shadows that darkened on his face from behind the torch made his true evil glow.
“What have I to fear, King Erik? Especially from you?”
“You must fear something to keep me locked and hidden in a prison such as this.”
Obed’s mouth tightened with a grim smile. “Hoffnung is no longer yours, and your people have long forgotten you. To them you died a hero in a battle that was only a guise. Little glory in that, don’t you think?”
“So why keep me alive?” Erik asked weakly.
Obed smiled. His ivory teeth gleamed in the light in sharp contrast to the darkness of his gaze. “Why not?”
“I think you withhold the truth from me,” Erik said.
“And what truth is that?”
“Who resides over Hoffnung? Surely not you. Your reign over the seas is far more important. A walled city has never been your desire. And Waxxon is a fool. There’s not a way that he can keep the city in his grasp.”
“You guess well. Waxxon lost the throne and his life. Seems your daughter is more powerful than I ever acknowledged. Perhaps more powerful than you or Queen Taube.”
“Dawn lives?” Erik asked with an uncontrollable smile stretching beneath his ragged beard.
“Much to my dissatisfaction,” Obed replied. “Her strength and influence were not anticipated.”
“Then I can die in peace, knowing that she holds the throne.”
“There’s no death for you. I will see to it that you’re well preserved. You will not taste of death until I grant such a pleasure.”
Erik gazed at Obed through narrowed eyes. “Then I shall remind you of her triumph each time you come to torment me.“
The Vyking King’s laughter roared and echoed along the spiraled tunnel. �
�This will be the last you see me until after I kill Dawn. Upon her death, I will return to gloat in your misfortunate, to stab at you daily with my victory.”
“And here I thought the Vyking battle hymns about bravery held some dignity to how courageous your race is.” Erik shook his head. “There’s no courageousness in you. You’re hollow. Spineless. How your people allow such a coward as yourself to reign is incomprehensible. If they only knew your genuine fear.”
“What fear?”
Erik spat into Obed’s face. “If you didn’t fear me, you’d release me and fight me honorably to the death. But even in my weakened condition, you know that you’re not a match for me. Have you allowed your demon queen to take your virility as well as your mind? Before her, you were once a nobler ruler, but now you’re her instrument, a toy for her to play with.”
Obed opened his mouth to speak, but instead, he turned from the cell. Waves sloshed further down the dark tunnel. The tide was rising.
“Sorry that my hospitality cannot be more,” Obed said. “You will know the constant pain of hunger and thirst, but you will not taste death until after Dawn has died.”
“And why should my daughter die?” Erik asked.
“Because of your ties to the great dragons of Aetheaon.”
“So they came out of hiding?”
Obed held the torch and stared at the cave floor. “They destroyed my fleets in your port and killed hundreds of my warriors.”
Boldness filled Erik’s heart. He smiled. “They will do so much more than that, Obed, if you continue to hold me or make any threat against Dawn’s reign. An oath is an oath, and any threat you bring against Hoffnung will not go unpunished. The destruction of your ships attests to that.”
“Again, all believe you are dead. The hope of ever finding your body ended long ago. And where you now reside, magical barriers prevent any sorcerer from using a detection spell to find you. Even your beloved dragons cannot find you.”
King Erik watched Obed walk up the spiraling tunnel. The fading torch dimmed as he turned the corner, leaving Erik in the darkness once more. Although the light faded, his hope to escape had not. After all, dragons held stronger magical qualities than most wizards, mages, and sorcerers. And he had made a pact with them, a blood pact, and while he himself was not a dragon, dragon blood did flow through his veins. The dragons and workers of magic might not be able to cast a spell to detect his whereabouts, but eventually, he knew, they would hear his heartbeat and know that he was still alive. And when this knowledge came to the three dragon sisters, Obed would know pain like no other Vyking had ever endured. After Obed’s death, his burning torment would never cease.
Lady Squire- Dawn's Ascension Page 66
