Furrowing her brow, Eliza waited until they were only a speck amongst the tree line before turning back to the path ahead. Though, she knew it wouldn’t keep her from wondering.
Why are they here? Eliza spared her companion a glance. She hadn’t consulted Thorne about their followers; she couldn’t bring herself to mention it to him. It was the strange magic that stopped her from approaching them—her fear of Cadira that turned her blood to ice whenever the ancient creatures appeared. Her curiosity and need for answers screamed for her to ask why they followed her, but despite that, she didn’t. Deep down, she knew she couldn’t. Not yet.
Eliza turned back but there was no one there.
~
“We’re coming up to the troll bridge.” Thorne stopped and turned, shoulders tense. His jaw ticked as he spoke. “Stay close to me, no matter what. And don’t say a word.”
Ahead, the tree line faded, and a river cut between their path. The rushing water could be heard from where they waited at the bottom of an incline, their horses becoming increasingly agitated as they waited, as if sensing the danger ahead.
“Have you got the gold?” Thorne asked suddenly without facing Eliza. “We’ll need to pay our way across.”
Eyes narrowed, Eliza scrunched her nose and pulled out a rather light coin pouch. “The king actually lets the trolls toll the bridge?” she asked, handing over the purse.
A light breeze ruffled the commander’s dark hair, pushing it across his brow. “They’ve been here longer than the kings of Cadira and are expected to be here longer than the Shadowland.” He carefully dismounted and wrapped the reins tightly around his hand, indicating for Eliza to do the same. She did, waiting for him to continue. “The king has no jurisdiction over the creatures that have inhabited this land for thousands of years. It’s a part of the treaty. So, when we come across their territory, we abide by their rules.”
Swallowing a sigh, Eliza followed his lead.
Gravel loosened under her feet as they trekked up the incline towards the bridge’s opening. Tall, gnarled and oddly angled trees lined the path. The raging river, which branched off the ravine that protected the Willican Forest, disappeared into the trees, winding toward the open ocean.
They stopped, waiting for a small family to pay their way across.
Trolls of different shapes emerged from the green-grey foliage; they were not like the trolls from modern mythology, Eliza realised as she gaped at them. They were like Nordic Trolls, with thick noses and stone-like skin. They had long, curled hair of different colours; some were grey-haired, while others were fair, brunette, or red-haired.
They looked almost peaceful, but they were not the isolated creatures she’d read about in Norse folklore. No, these were Cadiran trolls, and they could be deadly if provoked.
Eliza watched with bated breath as Thorne paid for them to cross. The trolls surrounding them stopped as Eliza stepped onto the bridge behind the commander, steering her horse beside her. She tried not to openly stare at the creatures that watched her with beady-black eyes.
When Thorne mounted his horse again, she followed, feeling the air around her change as she did.
It happened faster than Eliza could catch; the slow march across the stone bridge quickly turned into a hastened escape, with Eliza stuck at the end of their party. Beneath her, the mare reared at the appearance of a troll rushing them. She tumbled off its back, hitting the ground and rolling, her shoulder smashing into the hard stone as screams arose to drown out the river.
Trolls spilled onto the bridge quickly and effortlessly, their bulging bodies encircling her. It was the stench that hit her first—rotting carcass and mould—then their voices, gruff and low in timbre. Through the haze of confusion that swelled in her already muddled brain, she could just make them out through the curtain of hair that covered her face.
“The master will reward us for her capture,” one said, sticky fingers reaching towards her.
Eliza threw up a protection shield around herself and stumbled to unsheathe a sword Thorne had given her after leaving the tunnels. Yet, the troll’s words stopped her. Their master. What had it meant by that? She looked up into the three eyes of the misshapen monster and searched for confirmation, even if she didn’t know what he was talking about.
Had the infamous leader of the demons and shadow soldiers bribed the trolls to stand against Cadira? Eliza finally removed her sword from its sheath and brandished it before the trolls.
The one with the three eyes spoke up again, a twisted smile marring its rotund face. “You think your steel will hurt us?” He chortled, protruding stomach jiggling as he laughed. “You cannot penetrate this hide!” The rest of his brethren laughed as well, leaving Eliza rather… perplexed.
She slowly got to her feet, pushing her hair back from her face. The protection spell began to dim. Behind the circle of trolls, Thorne had managed to clear the bridge of its previous occupants and threw himself between them and the danger. He had his sword raised in his right hand, while a dagger was poised in his left, but there was a calmness to his stance that gave Eliza chills.
Turning back to the trolls, she took in each of them. There had to be at least five in total surrounding her, while she had no doubt that there were more lurking below the bridge. It was just a question of how many. Three more faced off against Thorne, keeping him from approaching her, while two more cornered off the other side of the bridge.
As the shield around her disappeared, Eliza struck; magic rushed through her, dancing through her veins. She felt it burn the tips of her fingers and she sent a wave of light out in an arc around her. Trolls fell—not dead but stunned—while others stumbled off the side of the bridge. Somewhere behind her, there were more screams.
Their clubs and axes clanged against steel as Thorne and the remaining trolls sprang into action. She wanted to check behind her, but the trolls she had knocked down were slowly getting to their feet—and they were pissed.
“I would kill ya,” one troll snarled, spit dripping from his swollen lips, “but the master wants you alive.”
The troll struck out with one meaty hand, aiming to grab Eliza by the hair. She ducked with the intention of rolling away, but instead backed herself into the awaiting paws of another troll. He gripped Eliza’s arms and pulled her into his body, the smell of rotten fish and stale water assaulting her nostrils.
“You’re mine, pretty thing,” the one holding her said, squeezing tighter. Eliza yelped in pain as the troll forced her to drop her sword.
Without thinking, Eliza started burning. It was a simple defence mechanism she’d figured out when she was young. When in a bad situation, she’d set herself on fire. She’d done it all of three times in New Orleans before she knew she could control it.
It was enough for the troll holding her to drop his hands and howl in pain.
A wave of dizziness washed over her before she picked herself off the ground, forcing herself not to sway. Thorne fought his way to her, having cut down two trolls. The one Eliza had gotten rid of was still screaming over his burnt hands, and those who surrounded her now watched in wary fascination.
She didn’t give them a chance to attack as she picked up her sword and ran. Eliza threw all her energy into leaving the bridge and making it onto solid, sturdy ground. Where, she hoped, the trolls wouldn’t follow.
Unfortunately, Eliza wasn’t fast enough.
A hand closed around her ankle, sending her to the ground once more. Eliza reached out a hand to stop the fall, and instead landed heavily on her wrist, yelping in pain. Gravel embedded itself into her palm, but as the pain washed through her, her hand grew numb.
She flipped over and reached out her good hand, intending to throw another blast of magic towards her assailant.
But the troll dragged her backwards, away from the safety of the forest beyond. Her clothes caught on the stone and tore, but the troll—who had his back to her, a wooden club in his other hand—paid her no attention. It even hummed a jaunty tune.
&n
bsp; From where she was being dragged, Eliza couldn’t see much of the fighting, but she had to assume that Thorne was making headway with the other trolls. She could hear grunting and cries of pain over the pounding of her own blood, but she couldn’t be sure who they belonged to. Had they taken Thorne down? Were they now terrorising the people?
She threw her hand up as heat warmed her, racing from her core and up her arm. The fire formed in the ball of her hand until it was the size of a softball, and she threw it at the troll. The force knocked him into the ravine, the echo of water splashing forcing her to turn to the next assailant.
Eliza scrambled to her feet, wincing as pain sliced through her. She surveyed the area, spotting two trolls left standing, deciding on whether they should continue fighting Thorne, or if they should just go straight for Eliza. The civilians that had managed to cross were now nowhere in sight.
They could very well be dead, as far as Eliza knew, but she hoped Thorne had helped them escape.
“He knows you’re coming.” Eliza spun to face a withered troll who grappled to pull himself over the edge of the bridge. “The Dark Master. He’s always watching. He’s always there.”
Eliza’s heart stopped in her chest and a coldness seeped into her bones. Icy fingers seemed to grasp her from behind and encircle her neck, and she choked back her response, because there was nothing she could say to that.
Before she could form any kind of answer, the troll smiled and slipped down beneath the bridge. Those remaining followed suit, leaving Thorne and Eliza alone with the sinking sun, and her sinking gut.
The Dark Master. Somewhere, in the back of her mind, a memory tugged at her. But she caught sight of the commander, who sunk to his knees at the foot of the bridge.
The breath rushed from her lungs. “Thorne!” Eliza ran towards him and threw her arms around his neck, breathing in his familiar scent—of freshly cut grass and the calm before a storm. His face crumbled as he wrapped his arms around her.
They sat there, folded upon one another, breathing. “I thought I’d lost you for a moment there,” she said, unable to speak any louder than a whisper. The trolls and their words echoed in her head. “That wasn’t a coincidence.”
Thorne shook his head, dark hair falling in his face. Several cuts marred his skin. His lips parted, and it was then that she was aware how close they were to one another.
Before he could reply, Eliza pulled away, and cleared her throat.
Something in his eyes darkened, and his smile was strained when he finally replied, “You can’t get rid of me that easily. We still have a mission to complete.”
16
DRAGONS OF GOLD
The admission of the trolls echoed in her head. The Dark Master. The name tickled something in the back of her mind, like she’d heard the words before, in passing, or spoken in a different context. It sounded like a nickname passed on to Voldemort in Harry Potter, but—no. It was the way it had been spoken that grated against her memories.
They stopped as soon as Thorne declared they were a safe distance from the bridge and away from any trolls that might be lurking in the nearby forest. Eliza’s heart hadn’t stopped hammering.
The sky above them opened and a misty rain covered Eliza’s clammy skin. She lifted her face and let it cool her. But it didn’t quite calm her; it only made her more aware of her surroundings. There was someone searching for her, someone powerful enough to command the loyalty of the ancient trolls.
“What happened?” the commander finally asked. His voice wasn’t harsh but rather, tired, worn from the fight.
Swallowing, Eliza shook her head. “I don’t know.” The words wouldn’t form in her head, at least not in a way that would make sense. Eliza ran her tongue over her bottom lip. “They—the trolls—they wanted me, wanted to hand me over to their ‘Dark Master’.”
Thorne stayed quiet for a moment, unable to meet her stare. “We were lucky,” he said, voice low. “What are you thinking about the Dark Master?”
“Nothing.” She released an irritable sigh and hung her head. The cool rain brushed over her neck. “I wish I had something, but I don’t. One of the trolls, though… they said something that caught my attention.”
He gave her an expectant look, brows raised in question.
“They said the Dark Master is always watching. That he knows I’m coming.”
She was afraid, terrified, of what this Dark Master could mean to her and the mission, to her life and the lives of her guardians. That fear ate at her insides, chipping away at the wall she’d placed around herself after their failed attempt at following the tunnels. Finding the prince was enough of a challenge, but with the Dark Master and the presence of the Blood Witches at Eliza’s back…
She sucked in a choking breath. Freedom. For me, for Grandpa, for Kay. Eliza needed to protect her family. The Dark Master, for all she knew, was nothing more than a scare tactic.
But that small kernel of hope she so desperately tried to cling to was slowly being chipped away.
A chilled wind swept over the desolate road, picking up her hair, which had come loose from the braid she’d had it in. Thorne’s hair ruffled only slightly, despite its ever-growing length. The thick, low-lying clouds hanging over them only threatened more rain.
“We should find somewhere to set up camp,” Thorne finally said, his voice a whisper. Above them, a crack of lightning illuminated the sky.
Eliza grimaced when the thunder followed. “I suppose we’ll make it a two-day ride to the capital?”
~
It was during the second day that she noticed a change in scenery; although the area around her was a maze of jutting mountains and rolling hills towards the ocean, there were expensive mansions dotting the landscape, each one just as beautiful as the last. The shadows of darkness infected that façade of beauty though, touching it in simple ways; rotting vines and blackened trees, abandoned buildings and dull faces peeking out from beneath hoods.
Driveways paved with loose pebbles broke off from the main road they travelled on, leading up to the occasional estate. Most of the homes had an old, eastern European feel to them, decorated with iron balconies and vines climbing up beige exteriors. From the road, Eliza could even make out fountains sprouting water, similar to the design outside of the king’s old Spring Manor, though no goddesses were in sight.
Or ravens.
In the breaks of forestry and hills, there were wineries, which gave Eliza the image of Italy. How so many different parts of her world seemed to work their way into this kingdom, she wasn’t sure.
Between the manors and winding streets lined with towering trees, the darkness rotted tree trunks where pixies and nymphs seemingly abandoned, grotesque buildings now skeletons of their former beauty. A dark reminder of what was happening in Cadira.
Every so often, Eliza sent out tendrils of her magic, feeling for the shadow that wormed its way through the land. Where there had been brightness, there was now darkness, and where there was once hope, there was now death.
She couldn’t ignore it, either; tethered to the darkness, spirits dwelled in larger quantities than she ever would have imagined. They walked along the veins of blacknesss; phantoms locked in endless turmoil.
As they passed over a ridge, Eliza finally saw the entirety of the Cadiran capital.
Directly in the centre of the bustling metropolis stood the marvellous palace. Spires and turrets reached for the grey sky, and a wall stood between the castle and the common people. Statues and gargoyles decorated the eaves, while bridges branched between towers.
The palace glittered like quartz in the dying rays of the sun; from where they stood on the ridge, Eliza could plainly see the beautiful reflection of the palace shimmering in the clear water of the giant lake it was built by.
Around the perimeter of the curtain wall were multiple churches, temples, and what could only be the entrance to the Royal Catacombs below the palace. Eliza had seen the entrance sketched in her grandfather’s book
s; two Gods, their names lost to her, hands clasped outside of the stone doors. Even from a distance, Eliza could make out the temple and the descent into darkness.
Surrounding the palace, Eliza could distinguish the social hierarchy that took over the rest of the bustling capital. The mansion-sized houses surrounding the palace were clearly marked as the upper class, with clean streets and gas lamps lining the cobblestone paths. Small parks dotted the area, along with blocks of townhouses, and what looked to be a huge shopping district.
There was a clear change in the working class quarters, as it rimmed the outermost city, leading into a darkened spot by the lake’s edge that Eliza identified as the slums. Darkness did not spread as freely throughout the city; where she had expected to see lines of it feeding off misfortune, she could only see the streams of light, of… hope.
Her stomach dropped. In the distance stood the Labyrinth Mountains, home to the Blood Witch tribes. Protected like the Fae Territories, the mountains remained untouched by the worlds monarchs. There, the darkness did not spread; even it feared the wrath of the Blood Witches and their terrifying matriarch.
“We should go straight to the castle,” Thorne said. Eliza peeled her eyes away from the mountains shrouded in low-lying clouds and looked to him. “Hopefully, the king will give you a room for the night.”
Eliza frowned. “Just me? What about you?”
Thorne shrugged, wariness filling his eyes. “I have some business to go about while I’m here. I also have an apartment in the city. It’ll be easier for me if I’m out of the palace.” He smiled as if sensing her uncertainty. “Don’t worry though, I’ll still be with you throughout the day. You won’t lose me.”
Something didn’t sit well in Eliza’s gut about her having to stay within the palace while Thorne wandered the streets of the capital. What if something happened to him? She knew she wouldn’t be able to live with herself if he was hurt. Especially after Clio and the attack on the Winter Palace.
The Lost Prince of Cadira (Shadowland Saga Book 1) Page 17
