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

by Nikki Mccormack

  Kyouin stopped in front of her, he fondled the hilt of the dagger very intentionally and Amahna looked up, making herself meet his haughty gaze. She gave him a cold scowl.

  He smirked. “I think I’ve had enough of you.”

  Amahna was suddenly confused. Was he tired of her in general? If so, what did that mean for her? Did he mean to let her go or kill her? His tone was not threatening, but rather matter of fact, offering no insight. “What do you mean?”

  “I mean you can leave. I have no more need of you and I’m bored of your contrary behavior. You’re a drain on my energy. You may chase after your silver dragon.”

  Amahna searched his eyes for that familiar flicker of amusement that would betray a hidden motive. She did not find it there.

  “You took my horse,” she stated. Her gaze dropped again to the dagger in a silent addition.

  Kyouin fingered the serpents on the hilt while he looked down his nose at her. A flicker of something passed through his eyes, madness, but still no silent laughter showed there. “You may have your horse back. I suggest you accept your other losses.”

  Amahna lowered her gaze. She did not want to appear defeated, yet the arrogance in his face mocked her and her rage was almost unbearable. To show him that would only encourage his cruelty. Without another word, she walked around Kyouin and went to retrieve her mount who stood with Vaneye at that moment. Once mounted, she started toward the trees beyond the edge of the camp. The eyes of the daemons were upon her as she passed, but they did not move to intervene or follow. A chill passed through her as she stepped past the last daemon, a sort of implied barrier had been crossed. Still, she was not free of him. With every step she felt the daemons slipping further away, but Kyouin’s gaze she could feel like a cold touch on her spine, no more distant and no less hateful.

  Amahna longed for Theruses or even the despised Rakas to be there with her. Anyone who could glance behind and assure her that the daenox priest did not follow. She refused to give him the pleasure of looking back. Several yards ahead loomed a thick stand of dead trees. Once she was past that, maybe the sense of him would be gone. It was hard to keep her mounts pace calculated, but she would not run from Kyouin. That was the only vengeance she could hope for now. Later, when she told Theruses what had happened here, Kyouin would pay for his actions and for her mangled pride.

  When the nearest tree was close enough to touch, Amahna could finally relax enough to take a normal breath. It turned out to be premature. The sound of pounding hooves coming up behind her drove her to turn around in the saddle. Ryche, on his partially decayed mount, burst from the edge of the camp behind a pack of daemon-wolves. Amahna spun back around and kicked her mount up to a gallop. She drew upon the daenox to press the animal for more speed, but she could already hear the hard breathing of the daemon-wolves.

  Dodging through the trees, she searched her mind for some way to escape the death closing in on her. She had known she could not trust Kyouin, but here, in the dead forest, she at least had some small chance of getting away. A deep growl sounded almost alongside of her. The beast darted under her mounts legs and the animal tripped, going down on her knees. The impact threw Amahna free of the saddle and she slammed hard into the dry ground. Getting up seemed to take much too long as she listened for the now absent sound of hoofbeats. Once on her feet she turned around just in time to see the daemon-wolf before it lunged into her.

  She hit the ground again, this time exposed on her back. There was no time to move before the beast wheeled around and lunged again, its gray eyes focusing in on her throat. Frantic, she threw her arm up for protection and the daemon-infected animal’s jaws closed on it, teeth ripping through the skin. Amahna pulled desperately on the daenox in the beast and used it to rip a hole in the animal’s throat. Shoving the limp beast off with her good arm, she got to her feet, clutching the bleeding arm to her chest.

  Pain made her head spin. She backed up against a tree, placing her good hand against it to ground herself, and closed her eyes to try and stop the dizziness. She had used too much daemon power too fast and the injury to her arm was bleeding profusely. The bark of the tree was dry and rough against her palm and it gave her something to focus on. The weakness lured her to rest for longer than she should.

  A soft clicking sound jarred her back to reality. It was a sound she had feared for some time. The dreaded sound of the undead Ryche clicking his teeth together.

  Her eyes snapped open and she scanned the dead forest around her. Where was he? Where had the daemon-wolves gone? There was not that much cover in the dead forest.

  The clicking sound continued, but she could not pin down a direction with her blood pounding in her ears and pain muddying her thoughts.

  Where was her horse?

  She had to run.

  Moving her leg forward felt like dragging weights. Even lifting her uninjured arm to brush a strand of hair out of her mouth was a challenge. The clicking was getting louder, and a despairing sob escaped Amahna. She vainly willed her body to move faster. The clicking sound moved up alongside of her. She turned her head to see Ryche there. The exposed muscle and sinew on his undead mount moved in a macabre dance of flesh as the beast cut around to stop in front of her.

  Amahna stared up at Ryche, but there was not enough flesh on his face for her to read any expression there. He dismounted. Tears flowed freely down her face when he reached for her. At the last moment, her legs refused to hold her and she started to fall.

  With uncanny speed, Ryche caught hold around her neck and lifted her up so that her face was level with his, her feet dangling several inches above the ground.

  The regenerated muscle in Ryche’s hand was warm and wet against her skin. Amahna realized she would slowly strangle to death. Yet, she was again wrong. Ryche did not intend to wait for her to strangle. He stopped clicking his teeth and lifted his free hand to her cheek as if to offer a caress, but his bone fingertip dug into her flesh, slowly cutting a long deep gash from below her eye to the corner of her lip.

  The pain was like an unstoppable fire of agony. Amahna screamed, the sound broken by the hand still gripping her throat. That hand could crush her throat and now she wanted it to. Wanted him to end the agony.

  He moved his free hand then and placed the fingertips against her abdomen right below the ribs and began to slowly press in. The skin started to split before the sharp fingertips and she screamed again, but the only sound was a pathetic croaking.

  She squeezed her eyes shut, willing it to end.

  “Ryche!”

  The fingers pulled out of her flesh, and the hand around her throat released. She hit the ground and crumpled.

  Kyouin rode up leading her mount and gazed down at her, a slight smirk curving his lip. “Sorry about that. I guess I forgot to tell him you could leave.”

  She opened her eyes and stared up at him, the pain too great for her to even find energy to hate him. “Please… help.”

  “That arm doesn’t look so good. The face is an improvement though. You look good covered in blood. I’d be wary of those wounds infecting, especially the ones in your gut there. Looks painful.” He turned his mount to leave and she spotted his younger brother, Vaneye, riding behind him, his youthful, grey-eyed gaze no more sympathetic than his brother’s.

  Grey eyes? When had his eyes turned grey?

  “Come, Ryche, we’ve got other things to do.”

  “Don’t leave me like this,” she pleaded.

  Kyouin smiled at her. “Don’t make a scene, darling. What we had could never last.”

  He tossed her mount’s reins to the ground and rode away. Vaneye and Ryche followed, the undead warrior still making that hideous clicking sound. Amahna lay back and closed her eyes, struggling to focus. She drew on the daenox flowing through the ground beneath her. There was no time to heal the wounds properly if she wanted to catch Dephithus. She used the power to cauterize them, hating that Kyouin would hear her screams.

  CHAPTER THIRTY NINE
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  A bitter, chill morning found the two riders moving across the gradually steepening landscape toward the mist shrouded Dunues Mountains that rose above them.

  They had kept up a grueling pace for many days after their nocturnal encounter with the Legion and the daemon army, as much to put distance between themselves and the danger as to get Dephithus far enough away from Amahna that it was no longer practical to consider going after her. He had seen her on the hill when they broke from the trees into the daemon army, her image as clear as if she were standing before him in the light of day. Somehow seeing her again was worse than seeing Rakas had been. The way she had betrayed him was bad enough, but she had also taken Myara and his child.

  She had also killed him, though it was so hard to believe that had actually happened that he did not include that among his counts against her. It had taken Rakas yelling Myara’s name at him to remind him of his quest and keep him moving.

  Rakas was on his bad side even worse than usual this morning. Sometime past midnight the previous night they had come upon the small town of Ithkan.

  Dephithus wanted to stop and give the horses a rest, perhaps even get some real food at an inn, but Rakas had adamantly refused to enter the city. The impossible man had stopped his mount and stood his ground, even when Dephithus threatened to kill him. Rakas had stated, with maddening logic while rubbing his chest over the raised ring-shaped scar there as though it pained him, that if he were dead he would not be able to help Dephithus in the cave. As much as he resented it, Dephithus could not deny that it was a winning argument. He finally relented, and they continued around the village at an easy walk so the horses could at least take a break from the more demanding pace.

  In the light of the misty morning Rakas was watching him, his brow furrowed with worry, as Dephithus scowled ahead, glaring at the mountains rising defiantly before them. One hand rested on his sword hilt and sometimes his fingers absently stroked the grip of the weapon. As the incline got more severe, Rakas turned them on to a narrow animal path that moved up the mountain in a series of switchbacks. Off to the east was a narrow, and somewhat precarious wagon road that led to a village called Kithin, but Rakas insisted that this was a little faster way to get there and no more dangerous.

  “We could stop in Kithin and rest the horses there,” Rakas offered, though he sounded reluctant.

  “We will stop in Kithin.” Dephithus turned his glare on Rakas and caught a hint of longing in the other man’s eyes again. “You will lose the hand you ever dare to lay on me.”

  “Such is my punishment,” Rakas murmured, turning to face ahead of them.

  The desire to unleash his rage on Rakas swept up through Dephithus like a fast-moving storm, and he clenched his fists, twisting the leather reins in his hands. Perhaps he could break his arm or inflict some other injury that would cause long-term pain without entirely debilitating him. Once this whole journey was over, Rakas would be wise to make himself scarce. The temptation of revenge was almost more that he could handle, especially with the influence of the daemon-seed making his vengeance driven thoughts seem so pleasant.

  With that daemon-seed in him, how good a father and husband could he make? Maybe Vanuthan could continue to help him once she was free.

  “Don’t you sense the daenox when you are near it or something?”

  “Yes, in heavy concentrations,” Rakas replied as he was forced to move in front of Dephithus to keep his mount on the safer footing of the animal trail.

  “Then why did you allow us to ride into the middle of the daemon army the other night?”

  “Because I was busy trying not to get killed by the Imperious soldiers you rode us into. You were in no more danger than I was. Amahna saw me, and she is not likely to take my helping you very lightly.”

  “Why was she there?”

  Rakas shrugged. “I don’t know. It’s probably safe to assume Theruses has some interest in the daemon army.” Rakas slowed his mount, forcing Hydra to move slower behind him on the narrow track. “That night—”

  Dephithus growled under his breath.

  Rakas hesitated a few seconds, then forged ahead. “I did not want to do it to you. I tried to refuse, but Amahna used the daenox to force me to go through with it.”

  Amahna.

  He could remember her watching Rakas rape him as though it happened only yesterday, the coldness of her words. Rakas at least seemed torn with guilt. Guilt he deserved to rot in even if Amahna had compelled him with the daenox. Dephithus did not think Amahna even knew what remorse was. Did she know her sister was dead? Would she care if she did know?

  His throat and chest tightened and he was suddenly thankful Rakas rode in the lead where the other man could not see his tears. If there was anything he could not handle right now, it was pity from Rakas.

  “That’s the only reason you were there though, isn’t it? You didn’t come to Elysium for the festivities and libations then decide to plant a daemon-seed in the heir to the throne as an afterthought. The heir who was, coincidentally, already a pawn for the dragons.”

  Rakas urged his mount a little faster again and said nothing.

  As dusk neared, it brought with it a cloudless sky and the welcome crescent moon shone down brilliantly on them. The stars and moon were almost blindingly bright after the last several nights without them. They searched out a spot that was reasonably flat off the side of the animal trail. The light of the stars and moon was enough to eat by, so they did not bother with building a fire. There was no point in drawing the attention of anyone or anything that might be nearby. The exhaustion of the last several days riding with barely a break made it easy for them to fall asleep.

  Sometime later, even before Hydra could wake him, Dephithus snapped awake, aware that they were no longer alone. The crescent moon hung a little lower in the sky, marking it as a little past midnight, and its light cast eerie shadows on the steep, rocky landscape. Careful not to make their visitor or visitors aware of his movements, he slid the arm under him to the sword he always kept close. On one side of them, Hydra made a low nickering sound in his throat, a warning, and Dephithus could hear the other horse shifting uneasily. Opposite the horses, he heard the soft clack of a rock slipping under the weight of something. Panting emitted softly from several different directions.

  Dephithus waited.

  Preceded by a growling bark, a daemon-dog leapt out of the dark toward Rakas. Dephithus lashed out with the sword and cut open the side of the beast’s body from spine to sternum. The daemon-dog fell dead on top of Rakas and the blade, finishing the arch of his swing, hit the ground next to the other man’s ear. Rakas, who was now very much awake, stared wide-eyed at the sword point next to his face, looking more alarmed by it than the by the dead daemon-dog on his chest. With a distrustful scowl for Dephithus, he shoved the dog off and sat up, peering calmly into the dark at the many pairs of eyes watching them from a wary distance now.

  Dephithus swung his sword back around in time to decapitate another daemon-dog that lunged at him from behind. The entire pack, which appeared to be seven more as best he could see in the moonlit dark, closed in and tensed to lunge.

  On the steep mountainside, this could be a most unpleasantly painful, if not fatal, battle. He drew his dagger with his free hand and tensed for the attack, but the daemon-dogs suddenly relaxed and began to back away. Their attention was riveted on Rakas now, at least until they backed far enough that Dephithus could no longer make out their forms in the dark. Keeping his blades ready, he watched around for whatever surprise attack might still be coming.

  “You can relax. They won’t be coming back. I sent them home.”

  “Sent them home,” Dephithus hissed. “Is that supposed to be a joke?”

  “I sent them back to the daemon army where they came from.” Rakas responded patiently as he kicked the dead daemon-dog further away.

  “They followed us this far?”

  Rakas made a sound of confirmation.

  “I di
dn’t think the daenox would attack its own. It may not be very apparent in me right now, but they should have sensed it in you.” The irritation in his voice grew with each word while he watched Rakas lying back down as if nothing had happened.

  “They can be manipulated to, but such manipulations have their limits.”

  Suddenly Dephithus understood. “You mean they were sent to kill us and you were targeted first because the sender knew you could stop them.”

  Rakas nodded and laid his head down on his pack.

  “What if more come?”

  He closed his eyes. “Then I am sure you will let me know in a hopefully less dramatic fashion next time.”

  It would be so very easy. All he had to do was swing the sword as he had to kill the daemon-dog, only a little further forward. Trembling with the effort of holding back his rage, Dephithus settled back down, but he did not sleep again that night. Through the rest of the night he listened to Rakas sleep. The other man’s breathing was erratic, sometimes almost frenzied as though his sleep were plagued with nightmares. He hoped they were truly horrible ones.

  Dephithus had them moving again before the sun cleared the horizon. A thick mist folded around them, dampening their clothes and skin faster than rain. It was almost like traveling through water. The mist obscured their surroundings enough to force a slow, careful pace along the steep winding path toward Kithin. Rakas sounded nervous when he warned Dephithus that the people of Kithin served Theruses. If Theruses knew they were coming, they might be in for a brutal welcome at the mountain village. Regardless of the danger, they needed some good, solid food for themselves and their mounts before covering the last few hours ride to the cave. It did not seem wise to arrive there depleted. He assured Rakas that, if the atmosphere seemed hostile or even unwelcoming, they would move on quickly.

  “And what if they only pretend to be friendly with the intention of luring us in and killing us?” Rakas worried aloud.