Reaver of Souls

by Stephanie Burke

  “But this place…it’s so strange.” Joz sighed as he again looked around the small room, noting the position of each man and the female in particular. “And Torn has no judgment when it comes to women! Remember the witch he almost mated?”

  “And you know a lot, puppy?” Del snarled as he cuffed Joz on the back of the head. “Now pay attention, puppy. Watch and learn.”

  Del knew that Mace had a plan, and he would ensure that the rest of this recon party would follow his moves.

  “Sit!” Sable snarled again, pointing to a chair and watching the men.

  “Sit?” the large black-haired one said as he stared between her and the chair in question.

  “Sit.” Sable signed again, deciding that a visual approach would be better.

  Pulling out a chair, she gingerly sat, showing them with slow motions what was expected of them. That done, she repeated again in a firm voice, “Sit!”

  “For God’s sake, Sable!” Jill cried out, torn between exasperation and humor. “They are not puppies in here for training. They are men.”

  “Well, can you do better?” she snapped as the three men stood watching her.

  “Yes!” Jill all but laughed and Jack groaned, thinking that he may have to pull his partner’s butt out of the fire.

  Walking over and tapping the largest one on the arm, he pointed to the chair.

  “Sit,” he said as he demonstrated, wiggling his bottom and pointing to it and then the chair.

  A look of comprehension filled the big ones face as he too wiggled his butt and pointed to the chair.

  Nodding, Jill said sit again, and Joz wiggled his bottom again and sat.

  “Success!” Jill shouted to Sable, who snorted, as the other men followed suit.

  But the loud cracking of wood had them all turning as the three men, with three identical expression of horror on their faces, fell through the flimsy wooden chairs and landed on their tushies, on the hard floor.

  “Sit?” Joz snarled, glaring at the man.

  “Well, they are a bit larger than Torn,” Jill allowed as he watched three prime hunks of male flesh bounce on their leather-clad bottoms.

  “Only about a foot,” Jack added as he walked forward and offered the red-haired man a hand up.

  “Oh my, aren’t they?” Jase sighed as he tried to get an unobtrusive view of the men’s spread legs and massive chests as they glared at Jill.

  “I believe that they are trying to kill us,” Joz said as he glared at the small man who had showed them the true meaning of “sit”.

  “This ‘sit’ is a trick that can be used to gain advantage in battle,” Del decided as he took the hand offered by the tall dark-skinned bald man.

  “More than likely, the chair was too weak,” Mace decided as he too rose to his feet, but without assistance. “These men are so small, Joz. The seats were probably sized for the female.”

  “My kitchen set,” Sable moaned as she mentally tallied up the price of new chairs.

  “Well, they are rather large,” Jack said as he helped heave the redhead to his feet and stepped back.

  Jill assisted the brawny large one, but the apparent leader rose to his feet without help.

  “Living room,” Sable sighed as she pointed the way. “The couch can hold them. It’s heavy-duty and has a solid wood frame.”

  They all tromped to the living room, the three foreign men looking around curiously, Jack and Jill wondering what was going to happen next, and Jase still stealing peeks at the men.

  Hey, they were eye candy, and he just discovered that his eyes had a big sweet tooth!

  “Sit!” Sable said again and pointed to the couch.

  Obediently yet cautiously, the three men complied, wiggling their butts before sitting, then sighed when the seat held.

  “Now what?” Jill asked as he took a seat on his favorite chair, leaving Jase to gawk in peace and Jack to perch on the arm of the chair, his hands stroking Jill’s back lightly.

  Sable began to pace.

  “Now we wait,” Sable said. “From the way they herded us in here, they want us to stay put. I have a feeling that they want Torn to come here and maybe they are bringing help to find him.”

  “How do you figure that?” Jase asked, snapping out of his lust-induced daze.

  “Female instincts,” she said. “Besides, the dark-haired one looked concerned when I mentioned his name, not angry, just anxious.”

  “You think,” Jase said, doubt evident in his voice.

  “I pray,” Sable added as she looked at the three men. “’Cause if they harm Torn, I will have to kill all three of them, and that is a lot of killing.”

  The determined look in her eyes proved that she meant every word that she said, and the three men prayed right along with her.

  If she tried to harm them and they retaliated, then they would have to get involved. And each of the humans knew if that happened, no one would make it out alive.

  * * * * *

  Zultha’s servant hurried with news for her mistress. This would be the final time she returned to this vile cave. The woman could die, for all that she cared, and she prayed that it would happen soon.

  “What news?” the mad one asked as she watched her servant scurry into the cavern.

  Zultha, her red hair matted to her head and her clothes dirty with days of accumulated grime and filth, was the perfect picture of the Queen of the Insane. Her eyes glittered in her madness, more frightening because of the small child’s voice that came from the throat of that viper.

  Her mind was almost totally broken and it showed.

  “They leave within a few hours, Lady,” the servant said as she dropped to her knees and held her breath. The odor coming from her mistress was decidedly rank.

  “I will need a disguise,” she said as she smiled down at the lowly woman who served her. “Something low-class and tasteless,” she added. “Like what you are wearing.”

  Without a word, the servant stripped the deep brown cloak from her body and laid it at her mistress’s feet, her thin shoulders quivering with fear and uncertainty as well as total self-defeat.

  “Thank you,” Zultha purred as she stared at the garment.

  “Lady,” she answered as she tried to huddle into a small ball, so as not to draw her mistress’ unwanted attentions.

  “You may leave,” Zultha said quietly as she stared at the human waste at her feet.

  Nodding, the servant scurried out, her thin sheet no protection from the cold air in the cavern, but she paid no heed.

  Turning to one of her guards, Zultha smiled at the man.

  “Kill her quick,” she laughed. “She did, after all, find out what I wanted to know.”

  Silently, the guard disappeared, blending in with the shadows. He had no expression on his face, but inside, he was thinking, Are we all so expendable, Lady? Is this a taste of your rewards?

  * * * * *

  She is going to kill me, the servant thought as she scurried from the cavern. Before the sun rises, I shall be dead.

  As she ran towards the relative safety of the castle to prepare for her murder, tears ran down her face. She knew her death was inevitable. Her fate was sealed from the first time she’d laid eyes on Zultha.

  Broken both mentally and spiritually, she raced back to the castle. So be it! If she were to die, she would at least get a small amount of revenge.

  Nello would know what to do when she found her body. The true Lord would be notified and Zultha would not get away with destroying all that was innocent and pure, like she destroyed her servant.

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Terror paced as he waited for his entourage to gather. This group included his precious Nello, a healer, and his assistant.

  Everyone knew the risks yet were happy to go retrieve the young prince. He had touched so many of their lives with his gentle nature and his kindness that they were willing—nay, eager—to help him in his hour of need.

  That he was the Reaver shocked and surprise
d many people, but those chosen to accompany Terror banked their fear of him. They were trying to see him as just Torn, but it was difficult at times.

  “Where is the assistant?” Terror grumped.

  “Patience,” Nello cautioned as they waited outside the transport chamber. “She will arrive soon.”

  No sooner had the words left her mouth than a small figure, completely swaddled in a cloak, made a shuffling appearance.

  “It took long enough,” snapped Terror.

  “My usual assistant is somewhat troubled,” the Healer, a tall white-haired warrior hefting a large leather satchel, said quietly. “So she has found me a replacement from the ranks of the acolyte. This one is mute, though a competent worker. Hopefully this task in this new, faraway place would give her a chance to gain some experience that will help us all in the future. She is a quiet efficient worker, though I sense something troubling in her. But my assistant assures me that she is the most qualified for this mission.”

  “I have the perfect thing for her,” Nello said suddenly, sensing much confusion and darkness in the woman.

  “Nello!” Terror glared as his wife turned and made to quit the chamber.

  “You three go along! I’ll be right behind you. I need to gather an amulet for the good Healer’s assistant. It is designed to help focus and stabilize…energies. Besides, it will take time to transport all of us to the foreign realm. We have time.”

  Actually, it was designed to neutralize any dark energy. What she had felt wafting off of the woman was akin to madness! A malevolent spell or just mental instability could cause it. Either way, Nello was taking no chances. She wanted her son home safe without interference from anyone or anything.

  “Nello,” Terror called out as he raked his hands through his hair. “Come back here!”

  The laughing Healer didn’t help the situation.

  “Let her be, Terror!” he cheerfully advised. “Living alone all of these years has made you forget how to live with a woman. Rule one, they are always correct, even if they are not. Rule two is to always refer back to rule one. Let her follow us. Her amulet may help and it will ease her mind.”

  “I think I have to,” he sighed as he turned towards the chamber. “I need to get to Torn. I feel his…pain.”

  “He is a part of you,” the Healer said. “A very important part. He is of your spirit and your mate’s magic. You will feel the connection, Terror. You love him.”

  “That I do,” Terror said, with a smile. “And it is time to bring him home. Time for me to be the father that he needs, and failing that, the friend that he can count on.”

  Turning, he entered the chamber, followed by the Healer and the eerily grinning assistant.

  * * * * *

  Nello stepped into her private chambers, the place where she kept all of her magical implements, and stopped dead.

  There was someone sitting in her chair.

  The room was very large but sparsely furnished. The small desk and chair were set off to one side as a huge wooden table dominated the room. No one ever sat in her chair. While she was away, Terror had kept this room locked and cleaned, but people very rarely ventured here now that she was back.

  But now there was someone sitting in her chair.

  “Can I help you?” she asked as she stepped into the room, waving her hand at a torch and watching as it exploded into light. “Do you need my help?”

  But the figure did not move.

  Detecting no movement, she stepped closer to the figure.

  It was laying its head on top of her desk and appeared to be asleep.

  “Hello?” again she said as she approached cautiously and shook the shoulder.

  The listless head flopped to the side, exposing one eye, open and cloudy with death.

  With a small shriek, Nello stepped back as she recognized the lifeless face.

  It was the servant! It was the woman who had been seen cleaning the rooms and assisting the Healer…

  “What is going on?” she whispered as tears of compassion filled her eyes. “Who did this to you?”

  Sending tendrils of her magic seeking, she searched quickly for the source of death.

  There was trauma! Severe trauma to her neck!

  She searched deeper and found no other source of death. The woman had been strangled and left in this chamber.

  But to what purpose?

  Stepping closer to the body, she stared at it, struggling to reason why someone would do this horrible thing.

  There were signs of a struggle, now that she was searching for them. One of the woman’s shoes was missing and all she wore was a thin shift that would not keep out the chill of the castle.

  Her feet were encrusted with some dark earth, one remaining shoe hanging off of her foot as if she had kicked and fought her captor.

  Her hands were clenched into fists as if she had fought to survive.

  Around her lay scattered papers.

  Now that was odd. Nello never left papers on her desk. She liked things neat and orderly.

  Using a puff of magic to lift one of the sheets, she reached out and claimed the cream-colored parchment.

  It was blank.

  So was the next one and the next one that she retrieved.

  She shook her head, about to summon the guards when she saw it. A strand of red hair, bright red hair clutched in the woman’s fist.

  “Where did you get that?” she mused out loud as she stepped closer to the body. “What warrior has bright red hair?”

  She tentatively reached out and pulled, noticing length of the strand.

  “What are you trying to tell me?” she whispered as she noticed the clenched fists.

  If she were being strangled, she would have used magic to destroy her attacker. But if she were mortal and of this realm, she would have scratched at the face and hands of her captor.

  This woman’s hands were tightly fisted, as if she refused to let something go, as if she were trying to give her a clue.

  “Long red hair,” Nello said as she examined again the length of the strand. It was by far longer than any warrior she had known, except maybe for Torn and his hair was the jet black of his father’s.

  She sighed as she recalled walking in and seeing her son with that hated torque around his neck, his long hair flying wildly about him, and that red-haired witch gloating as she taunted him.

  Red hair!

  Nello again looked at the red hair and gasped!

  No one else she could recall had red hair that shade! That is why she could not place a warrior with that hair color! It did not belong to a warrior! It belonged to Zultha!

  And if this was the servant who assisted the Healer, who had access to these chambers, who was supposed to be traveling with them to retrieve her son, sitting here practically naked and dead, that meant that someone had to take her place!

  Zultha!

  Zultha had just traveled through the portal with her mate and the Healer.

  Zultha was on her way to that foreign realm where she would meet with her son.

  Zultha was going to attempt to hurt Torn.

  Zultha was going to die!

  Growling her fury, Nello charged out of the room, screaming for the guards.

  She stopped one moment to stare at the woman’s body, to wonder who she was and what part she played other than warning her about Zultha. Then she was gone, charging through the halls to the transport chamber.

  No wonder she had felt darkness on the woman. It was not because of a spell, it was because the woman was pure evil. And if she harmed one hair on her child’s head, she would die screaming!

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Torn was cold, tired, sore, and elated. He had managed to find his way straight to his beloved’s home.

  Teeming with pride in his accomplishments, he strode to the front door, wearing the tatters of his pants regally, and knocked on the door.

  “What do you want?” an irritated female voice called out. “Who is it?”
<
br />   “Torn, I am!” he replied as he recognized the voice. “I want you!”

  “What?”

  “You, I want?” he asked, wondering if he was wording this correctly. This language was so hard to learn.

  Before he could complete his thought, the door was flung open and a small warm body launched itself at him.

  Instinctively standing aside, avoiding the attack as his training led him to do, he was stunned into motionless as Sable’s small body hurtled past him and landed at his feet.

  “Sable?” he asked as he quickly bent to assist the love of his life to her feet.

  “Torn!” Sable cried, not caring that she was on her knees in the mud, not caring that she had just made a spectacle of herself, not even caring that there were now a few new aches to add to the headache she had developed in dealing with Torn’s people.

  All she saw was her would-be lover, the man who set her soul on fire, the man that she feared would never come back to her. “You are alive!”

  Not caring about the mud or her oh-so-graceless entrance, Torn reached down and gathered her to him, her breasts pressed against his quivering chest.

  He had something to tell her and he had to tell her now. Not another moment would go by without him acknowledging how he felt.

  “I… I am… I love…”

  “Good Lord! He looks like the Incredible Hulk! Get him in here before he catches his death!” Jill called out as he peered out of the door at the couple on the stoop.

  “Torn,” Sable said as she turned in his arms, her hands moving to frame his face as she gazed into his violet eyes. “You are safe. You are home where you belong.”

  Home.

  His eyes watered at her words. He had a place, he was home. He ran his hands slowly up her back, forcing her closer to him as he bent low, his damp hair sliding forward to conceal their faces.

  “Sable,” he began again, only to be interrupted a second time. And this time, it was a heavy hand on his shoulder that made him pull away from his Sable.