Dark Hope of the Dragons (Elysium's Fall Book 1)

by Nikki Mccormack

  She stared at him as she spoke, fascinated by the contortions in his face as he struggled to control his temper. Almost every tortured emotion could be read clearly as it fought for control of his features. She was impressed when a cold, bitter glower finally won.

  “You were taken with him yourself, Amahna.” He spat her name as though it tasted vile upon his tongue.

  She pretended not to notice. Patience would win this war. “Perhaps, but I remember my place. I must confess,” she added with a light laugh, “I almost envied you that night.”

  Some sort of bad-tempered rebuttal had been expected, perhaps a few vulgarities tossed in her direction, but he managed to catch her off guard when he intercepted the tiny, but constant flow of daenox she had been using to control her mount instead. The mare started suddenly as if woken from sleep. Upon becoming fully aware that she was in a strange place with someone on her back and a steel bit in her mouth, the wild mare, predictably, panicked. She reared up then twisted and leapt sideways without her front hooves ever returning to the ground.

  Amahna, moved with the animal, managing with skill and a healthy dose of luck, to stay in the saddle. She had never been one to tolerate bucking from a mount, but this type of fight was almost exhilarating. Still, she had no intention of letting Rakas get away with this simply because she got a thrill out of it. Reestablishing the flow of daenox, she got the mare back under control and wheeled her around to face him. He did not back down or attempt to apologize when she turned her rage on him, which surprised her some. In the last several years he had become easy to intimidate, wary of his weakened state. This was more like the Rakas of old. He did look a bit uncomfortable under her glare though, so she would be satisfied with what reaction she could get for now.

  “If I had not given my dagger away you would be wearing it through your neck for that little trick,” she snapped.

  “And why did you give it away?”

  His voice was so cold now it chilled her, though she hid the shiver by making a show of adjusting her seat in the saddle.

  “Your guilt is extreme and Theruses will feel it. He might not like that you feel no pride in having served him well.” She kept her voice soothing and calm, trying to sound more concerned than threatening now. She could not let him hate her completely or he might use that to focus his conflicted emotions.

  “My service to Theruses is between him and me.” Rakas turned toward the horizon, but not before she caught the uncertainty in his eyes. She allowed herself a little satisfied smile while he was looking away.

  “That may be so, but you had best tend to it.”

  She let the silence linger, watching him for a moment, then followed his gaze to the horizon. The sun was setting. They would have to hurry if they wanted to reach the next town before full dark. She moved her mare over beside him and rested a hand on his shoulder. Rakas flinched, convincing her to rest her hand there for a few moments more until his tension eased a bit.

  She pulled her hand away again suddenly and moved her mare a few steps forward. Rakas sat watching her as she sniffed the air like a wolf hunting. A slow smile eased across her face and he shuddered. Dealing with her frequently brought on his fits. She knew he feared her to some degree and unnerving him amused her.

  After a minute or more, she nodded as if answering someone and nudged her mare up to a trot then a fast lope. Rakas followed her purposeful drive across the sloping hillsides until she pulled up abruptly at the peak of one hill. Dusk had come and was giving way to night, but the small town down below them seemed to have only just woken. Torches and two large bonfires lit the main road at the east end of the town. A band of lively musicians played a frisky tune from their seat in front of the inn and people already danced like wild beasts around the bonfires. They were celebrating something and Amahna could feel the lusty excitement of the revelers even from this far.

  “This is what we need. To dance with abandon and delight in drink. Come along.” She started down the hill then stopped to look back at her hesitant companion. “It will ease your suffering.”

  Rakas appeared almost afraid for a moment then he raised his head with forced confidence, looking, in the fading light of dusk, almost as he had when first she met him. He nodded brusquely. Amahna smiled and kicked her mount into a crazed sprint down the hillside. Without looking to see if he followed, she barreled boldly into the small town, pulling the mare up just before the inn. A stout, rough looking man caught hold of her reigns and grinned, showing off an incomplete set of yellowed teeth. Amahna swung down, tossing him some coins as she perused the festivities with her eyes.

  “I can see by your wild countenance that you come to howl at the moon in Ithkan. You are both welcome here, especially on this night.” He added, nodding to Rakas who now pulled his mount up beside them with a little more reserve.

  “What do you celebrate?”

  The man grinned. “A wedding, a birth, good crops or the color of the sky. Pick what you would and celebrate with us.”

  Rakas eyed Amahna and his guard faltered for a moment, allowing her to use daenox to see herself through his eyes. She did indeed look wild with her hair windblown and her eyes sparkling with fierce light. Something about her appearance in that moment must have moved him. When she switched back to her own perspective, old hunger lit his eyes and he nodded to the man, tossing him his reigns.

  Amahna laughed and tossed her cloak onto her saddle. With a wild whoop, she danced into the crowd, her silken burgundy split skirts rippling fantastically around her legs with her movement. There was hatred in the eyes of many young women as she danced through them, though there were plenty of women who eyed her with desire. Amahna swirled among them, searching for just the right look and accepting drinks from those who hoped to bed her.

  The bonfires blazed, defying the night sky with their brightness and adding their own music to the lively performance of the musicians. After the first few songs, she left the inner circle only to grab Rakas and drag him in, then she lost herself among the revelers again. Rakas loosened up once several drinks had dampened his throat so Amahna paid him no more attention until she found what she was looking for. She spotted a young man who was as handsome as he was beautiful. His green eyes gleamed bright with innocence, but something in his manner belied that look. Those pale eyes, glazed over with drink, sparkled like gems between his lovely dark hair and an open smile.

  Ignoring the burning glare one young woman gave her, Amahna slipped in close to the young man she had chosen. She danced sensually to the wild music that filled the air. She was still beautiful enough to capture his interest. As she had hoped, the young woman he had been dancing with soon realized the futility of her efforts and ran off to sulk. Amahna lured the youth closer to one of the fires where the heat slicked her dress to her skin with sweat. Entranced, he ran his hands down her body and she threw her head back, allowing him to nuzzle her sweat-dampened neck. She kissed him with all the passion of the fire and the drink that coursed through her veins. When she pulled away he gasped and the hunger in his eyes matched her own.

  Amahna laughed and led him over to where Rakas was dancing with several admirers of both sexes. When he saw the young man with her his face went pale and he stopped dancing. Her catch looked enough like Dephithus in his way that she worried Rakas might leave, but he hesitated, eyeing her levelly. Rakas was questioning her motives as his gaze moved between her and the handsome young man she had brought over. Those dancing around him, several of whom had lost articles of clothing at some point, coaxed him to rejoin them with sensual caresses. Rakas stepped through the ring they had formed and took the boy’s hand drawing him back through the border of sweat-slicked bodies. Amahna danced into the circle as well, finding an eager dancing companion in one lovely young woman with flaxen hair and deep blue eyes. As the evening wore on she stayed sober enough to notice when Rakas and the young man disappeared into the inn.

  As dawn neared there were still many revelers outside who slept whe
re they had fallen, deep in drunken slumber. The moon had slipped down close to the horizon and those few who were not asleep on the cold ground had retired to nearby homes or rooms in the inn. The fires still burned, bright red with hot coals, but they were mere shadows of the blazing monsters they had been.

  Amahna walked down the quiet streets towards the inn. She had found four companions to enjoy for a while, yet she had not dallied long with them. There was other business she wanted to attend to before the dawn broke. The quiet that met her here on the now mostly deserted streets was deeper than the normal predawn voice of a small town. One cat crept stealthily through the shadows on a search that no human would ever witness. An old dog looked up at her from where he had curled up next to his owner in the dry dirt road. Amahna nodded to each in turn, recognizing that the night did not belong to men and women.

  The common room of the inn presented something of a challenge. More people than she would have believed could fit in the whole town were curled up on the floor or stretched out on benches. One or two even slept on tabletops and the musicians, with their instruments still clutched to them, had moved inside to sleep on the small stage. She could feel faintly the daenox in Rakas and she followed it up to the second floor, stepping carefully over soundly slumbering patrons. With an amused smirk she wove her way around those that had not quite made it to the second floor and settled for the stairs. There would be many aching bodies come morning.

  At the fourth door on the right she stopped and pushed it open a crack. The faint moonlight that still spilled in the room’s one window illuminated two naked bodies twined on the bed and dreaming. She waited a moment, listening to them breathe, then slunk in, carefully shutting the door behind her. Neither one stirred as she stood watching them in the moonlight. Rakas looked peaceful with his arm draped over the young man’s shoulder. The young man simply looked quiet. She did not think he would look much different dead. Patiently, she sat in a chair in the corner and watched them.

  When the first light of dawn started to peek over the horizon, Amahna knelt before the bed next to the young man. With very gentle movements she leaned in to him and pressed her lips to his, using daenox to draw upon all of the untamed power of the numerous couplings that had occurred that night. He opened his pale green eyes, then opened his mouth to her and closed his eyes. Amahna breathed deeply of him as she kissed him, drawing away his breath, his heartbeat, his joy and his pain. She felt when the final silence took him and sat back, regarding his serene face for a moment before returning to her chair and closing her eyes to rest.

  When she woke it was to the sound of soft weeping. Rakas lay cradling the dead boy’s head against his chest with his lips pressed to his forehead. His face was twisted with anguish as he wept and slathered with unsightly secretions. He seemed unaware that she had woken. She watched as he rested the boy’s head back on the bed, but he still did not look at her when he finally spoke.

  “You gave that knife to Dephithus to torment him,” his voice was so soft that she had to lean closer to hear. “Just as you torment me for wanting to love him.”

  Amahna considered denying his accusations and her part in this young man’s death. She could blame it on excessive drink or some such thing, but she said nothing.

  Rakas turned toward her, still not looking at her. “I suppose we should leave before the town wakes.”

  Such bitterness filled his tone, yet his words were so logical and ordinary. That distance made her cold, so she stood and moved away from the window as if it were the cause. Rakas leaned down and kissed the boy’s forehead again before rising to dress himself. Waiting patiently by the door she feigned disinterest as he took the ring the boy had been wearing and dropped it into his shirt pocket. The gesture pleased her though. Keeping the ring would constantly remind him of this boy, of this night, and it would torment him more than anything she might think to do.

  They went quietly and quickly to the stables and took their mounts, which had never been relieved of their equipment. At the edge of the town Rakas stopped and looked back at the inn. Amahna watched him in silence, waiting.

  “Theruses gave you that dagger not long after I brought you to him.” He looked at her then, seeming to be speaking more to himself than to her. “He always liked you because you have so much lust for power of your own.” Rakas shook his head and turned away from the town. “We were a good pair once.”

  Amahna watched him kick his mount up to a canter, leaving her behind without a second glance. Patience, she reminded herself again. He had turned her away now, cutting her out of his future with his words. It could not take much more to drive him away from Theruses and the caves. Watching him a moment longer she considered finding her own path.

  Perhaps he would simply get lost. A crooked little smile turned her lips. There was still more to do though.

  Digging her heels into the mare’s ribs she galloped off in the direction Rakas had gone.

  CHAPTER TEN

  Dephithus woke with a start. Panic almost overtook him before he realized where he was. In the palace, in his own bed where he had spent the last sixteen years feeling safe. It did not feel safe anymore. The memories of how he had gotten here were vague and nightmarish. Shivering on the ground in the rain. A dark storage shed. The cold pressure of the anvil against his hips. Amahna’s smile. She had been smiling.

  He breathed deep to fight the sudden urge to throw up and stared at the ceiling high above his bed until the feeling had passed.

  Looking around he saw two beds laid out on the floor, both empty now. An older gentleman he recognized as the palace healer sat in a chair between his bed and the door. The healer’s head was tipped down as he read intently from a book, thinning brown hair slipping forward around his long face. A lengthy strand of hair fell in front of his eyes and they crossed as he focused on the intruder with an irritated scowl. After he brushed the strand away, his eyes refocused on Dephithus and he dropped the book in comical surprise. Trying to regain his composure, the healer brushed his hair back again, unnecessarily this time, and picked the book up, sweeping imagined dust from the cover before setting it down neatly beside him.

  “My Lord Dephithus, it’s good of you to return to us.”

  Dephithus shook his head at his company, not entirely sure he agreed with the statement, and pulled himself up to lean against the backboard of the bed. After spending a little time arranging his pillows and his covers for the sake of trying to get his composure about him, he regarded the healer. “From where do I return?”

  “You have been sick, my lord. We feared you mortally ill. How are you feeling now?”

  Dephithus ignored the question and looked again around his apparently shared chamber. “Who has been sleeping here?”

  “The Lady Avaline and Legion hopeful, Myara. You appear much improved.”

  Dephithus smiled. There was a bitterness to it that made the expression feel unpleasant on his face. “Do I.”

  The healer drew back. He looked confused and perhaps a touch insulted.

  Dephithus noticed a long slender box sitting on his bed-stand and reached for it. The healer started to say something as he pulled off the lid, but Dephithus was not listening. In the box was a dagger. The grip was smoothed wood stained glossy black. Below the grip two gold snakes wrapped around either side of the silver crossguard. Each snake had emerald eyes and a tail that dropped a good half-inch down the blade on either side. Above the wooden grip an emerald stone was embedded in each side of the silver pommel. Dephithus took a moment to admire the fine craftsmanship before he realized the healer was watching at him expectantly.

  “Pardon, what were you saying?”

  The healer smiled indulgently. “I said that your Aunt Amahna left that for you. They had to leave very early the day after your Dawning Day.”

  Dephithus growled at the dagger as he tossed it and the box carelessly back onto the bed-stand. The healer’s brow furrowed when Dephithus threw off his covers and got out of bed.
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  The man stood and placed a gentle hand on his arm. “You seem agitated, Lord Dephithus.”

  Dephithus started to pull away, then he paused. The healer’s name came to him then. Gvath. He was a kind and good-natured man, undeserving of the rude treatment he was getting. There was just so much anger in Dephtihus. Anger with no outlet. “I’m sorry, Gvath, I guess I’m just a bit confused and out of sorts right now.”

  Gvath’s brow furrowed more deeply and Dephithus cringed with dread at the questions that he would certainly ask now. He mentally braced himself when Gvath opened his mouth to speak. Then the other man shut his mouth again and cocked his head slightly to one side, his expression softening.

  “Perhaps a bath would soothe you.”

  Dephithus could not keep the gratitude from his face.

  Gvath smiled and patted him affectionately on the back. “I will send for your water.”

  Avaline appeared as he was bathing to fret over his healing scratches from the brambles and worry over why he had left the palace when he was so obviously ill. When she finally gave him a chance to speak, he shooed her away, protesting that he was still too weary to talk of it and would rather put it behind him. Eyes downcast, she started to leave, but she stopped inside the door and looked back at him, her expression suddenly hopeful.

  Dephithus blew out an impatient exhale.

  Her eyes filled with hurt as she dropped her gaze to the floor again, but she still spoke. “Perhaps later, if you are up to it...”

  She wanted to ride with him when he tried out his new horse. The horse he had been going to see that night. The night that…

  “Maybe tomorrow,” he snapped.

  He pushed away a twinge of guilt in the silence that followed his abrupt response. Avaline stood in the doorway for a few seconds longer, regarding him as if she wanted to comfort him or slap him and could not decide which to do. Reluctantly, she nodded and left him alone to contemplate what he would do next.