Noble of Blood Trilogy Box Set: All 3 books; Blood Price, Blood Ties, and Blood War in 1 set

by A L Wright

  “No, Victor. I came to relay the information I gathered after I left the warlocks. I did some scouting around the goblin army, and they’ve reorganized a bit.” At this point Tynen walked up to the pair of them, only meeting Dartein’s gaze for a quick moment. “Good, it is better that you both hear this at the same time. It will save repeating.”

  As Dartein relayed the information, how the goblin army was broken down into units, the rough size of each, and their positions, he was fully aware of Tynen glancing at him as if to say something, then looking down again. He knew the younger noble was warring with the same emotions as Victor, and Dartein hoped that leaving the army in their hands wouldn’t be a mistake. One wrong choice made here due to emotional strain could cost them dearly.

  When Dartein was finished, Victor nodded, steel flashing in his eyes. Tynen now watched between the two of them; his friend standing in as near as open defiance as he’d ever seen, to the Prince he’d followed away from the Palace and his old life.

  Dartein sighed and looked away from Victor to Tynen. “This is bigger than us, and you both know that. This is even bigger than my Father, and his comrades have let on to the rest of the army. Which is why I am turning back north to follow the warlocks. They’ll have a large head start on me, for certain, but I just cannot shake this feeling that I need to be there at the end.”

  “At the end of what?” Tynen asked him.

  “And there, my friend, you have me. Whatever the outcome, I need to be there. I may not catch up to them before any fighting happens, but I couldn’t let my slower pace keep them from making all haste.”

  Victor crossed his arms over his broad chest. “And what about when we are done here, after we slaughter this lot of goblins?”

  Dartein smiled, a brief flick of upturned lips. “Then march north, with all haste. Make for the canyon where the wyvern resides. His cave should be the place we end this, for good this time.”

  Victor insisted Dartein take his own horse, as it was well rested. Dartein quickly shifted over his saddle and packs and just finished mounting when Tynen rushed over to him with a bundle in his arms. The bundle turned out to be a long bow, unstrung, and a quiver with a couple dozen arrows.

  “Sir, you did not pack yours when we left the Keep. But I brought mine. You may need it more than I will here.” Tynen lashed the bow down over the saddlebags and handed the quiver up to him.

  Dartein slung the strap of the quiver over his head and settled it across his chest, the black feathers of the arrows jutting up above his left shoulder.

  “Do not worry about us and the army. We will see you in the north in only a short time.”

  He nodded and gathered the reins in his hands. Before he could snap them, Tynen slapped the horse on the rump and startled it into a run.

  Steering the horse wide to miss the army, Dartein rode as fast as the forest would allow him to, without breaking any limbs. He knew he wouldn’t catch up with Nikka before he would need to camp for the day, but he was determined to make up as much ground as possible before then.

  As the sky began to turn from twilight to pre-dawn, Dartein slowed his horse down to a quick trot. If he pressed a bit into the morning, he could put a decent distance between himself and the enemy army. The sun was well above the horizon before he stopped, and though he couldn’t see its position in the sky, he certainly could feel it.

  He slipped from the horse, pulled the saddle and bags off as quickly as his sluggish arms would let him. Settling down at the base of a large maple tree, he dug in under the fallen leaves and needles, covering himself enough to keep the sun away. Sleep took him before he could wonder how far away Nikka was.

  ~

  Cursing, Dartein rose quickly from under the tree, scrubbing the leaves and needles from him. He had slept later than intended and had lost some very valuable time. He already knew that he’d never catch up to the group of warlocks, traveling on their magically enhanced mounts. They could travel nearly twice as fast as he could.

  His horse had wandered a few hundred yards away to snatch at the young grass growing towards the forest edge. Fetching the horse, then saddling and mounting seemed to take forever, even though only a couple of minutes had passed. Desperation ate at the ends of his already frayed nerves, even after breaking out of the woods and having open plain to run flat out under the light of the moon.

  He knew that this nervous reaction was unusual for him, even if he knew he had lost ground between himself and Nikka. There was something, some reason that had him moving forward at a breakneck speed. It was just easier to give in to it and let his horse run than dwell on it.

  Dartein pushed his horse relentlessly until it began to stumble in exhaustion. Only then did he dismount and lead it, letting it catch its breath without his added weight. Not wanting to stop to rest, he walked and munched on leftover venison, that was barely able to be described as raw. After choking a few pieces down, he realized he had better let his horse rest and graze, or he would be without a mount soon.

  The urge to grab a cask of blood from his saddlebag and drink it to power his own energy was strong. He could run, leave his horse to fend for itself for now. But he couldn’t carry everything, and it would be a long trip back to the Keep on his own if he were separated from everyone else.

  No, he’d be better off keeping the horse for now. He slacked the bit and tied the reins up over the saddle horn, so the horse wouldn’t trip over them while it grazed. Dartein patted the blowing horse on its withers while he contemplated his next steps.

  Food was at the top of his list of current needs. Grabbing the bow and placing one end on the ground, he bent it to loop the string around the ends. With his quiver slung over his shoulder, he snuck out into the dark grasslands to flush out some small game.

  Dartein had gone quite some ways north before he realized how deadly quiet it was around him. No shuffles or rustles to give away rabbits or quail, not even crickets. What Dartein saw, however, was a dim, flickering light, a few hundred yards ahead of him.

  He had almost decided to move towards it in case it was Nikka and the other warlocks, until a single sound reverberated across the empty grasslands.

  A thwack thwack of leather beating in the air came closer, and Dartein ducked down to wait. Some moments later, the sound was interrupted by a chilling scream, an animal screaming as it was hunted and killed.

  He realized he had just lost his horse to something much bigger and considering the leathery noises overhead; it had to be the Deep Dweller.

  Sure enough, in just another moment, the wyvern flew overhead, the flapping slowing as it carried its burden along with it. The ancient enemy, leader of the goblin armies, flapped straight towards the dim light and landed.

  The light couldn’t have been any of his kind, then. No battle cries or screams came from that direction. Still crouching low, Dartein began to quickly, and as quietly as possible, made his way towards the light.

  He couldn’t have been more surprised when he came upon a large, circular area of flattened grass, and found Hielrich the Deep Dweller snacking on his freshly killed horse. While Mordred the Seer knelt next to the wyvern, evidently speaking to him with some urgency.

  Shock, sheer surprise locked Dartein in place for several moments. He only picked up a few words here and there and realized that the Seer was speaking in a mix of the common tongue and some other he had never heard. He watched as she held up her hands and waved them in a circle, bringing a picture alive in the air. The picture showed another place, and a group of Nobles approaching the base of a hill, with a cave just above them.

  The wyvern’s head came up fast, in seeming surprise. It seemed Nikka’s plan to move under a true cover of darkness had worked. Hielrich hadn’t realized they had closed in on his lair.

  The wyvern jumped up, horse forgotten, and roared in anger. At the same moment, and quite without thinking, Dartein took a knee, pulled an arrow from his quiver, drew the string back and loosed it before the creature’s
roar ended.

  Mordred may have been a seer, but she definitely had not seen this happening.

  The old woman flopped forward onto her hands and knees, blood spurting from the wound where an arrowhead now sprouted from the base of her throat. Unthinkingly, she clawed at her neck, causing it to bleed more. The wyvern roared again, head thrashing around looking for the threat.

  Dartein froze, knowing if he moved he would be spotted quickly. His odds of remaining unseen were already low and vanished altogether when the wyvern whipped around to look back in the direction the arrow had flown from.

  Again, acting upon instinct, Dartein pulled another arrow free from the quiver as the Deep Dweller launched into the air, spreading his wings wide. An arrow flew straight, sped through the air by immortal strength, striking before Hielrich could flap and knock it astray. A hole appeared in its left wing, the shaft having pierced straight through. The wyvern shrieked again in anger and in pain. Dartein had released another arrow and another after that, and the second one was lucky to sail in as the wyvern’s wings drew upward. A second hole appeared, this time in the right wing.

  Shrieking loud enough to shake the earth, Hielrich drew straight up into the air. Dartein dropped to the ground and covered his ears against the deafening noise. He watched as the large scaly beast flapped off, Mordred and meal both forgotten behind him.

  Dartein knew better than to think he had struck any mortal blows to their enemy, but having made any strike helped to lift the dread from his mind that had been riding with him that night. He grabbed up his bow and hurried over to find Mordred still slumped over on the ground, blood pouring from the wound. Without any hesitation, he drew her head back with one hand, drew his dagger from his belt and sliced her throat open wide. The instant before his blade struck, he felt a slight hesitation as she bored into his eyes with her own.

  Now, looking down at her corpse he realized she had tried to stop him, to compel him into feeling sorry for her. He’d never liked the woman, ever since she had given his Josaleene the prophecy that had taken him haring off across the lands to find nothing to help keep his love from dying. As far as he was concerned, this woman lying dead at his feet was the reason he hadn’t been there for Josee as she lay dying, giving her last bit of her very self to the birth of their daughter.

  Thinking of Nikka, he gathered both his wits and any undamaged supplies from his saddlebags, then turned and jogged away from the body of Mordred the Seer. After a few hundred yards he realized he was smiling.

  Chapter 20

  As predicted, the band of warlocks reached their destination just after half the night had passed. Mortul walked up to the stone wall below the entrance to the cave, not the same one as they had scoured and tumbled down 1100 years before, but close and part of the same cavern system. He didn’t take time to reminisce of that long-ago war; they had all done enough of that over the last twenty years. Now it was time to act.

  Mortul turned to face his granddaughter and her friend. “This is the right cave.”

  “How do you know?” Friesa asked.

  “The smell.”

  Nikka and Friesa looked to each other. Nikka shrugged.

  “Wyrmkind has a bold stench, like vinegar,” Mortul explained.

  “Oh, that’s it then.” Friesa had tied a wet cloth over her nose to filter the smell. The girl was newly turned to a Noble, and her heightened senses were still on full alert.

  “Wait, grandfather; you said wyrmkind. There’s more than Hielrich?” Nikka asked.

  “Oh yes, many more. But they live far away and do not bother us. Hielrich was an outcast. Which is why he lives underground. He sought refuge there away from his kind, hiding in the underground for decades before making his presence known around here. He was angry, though, at being cast out, and he dwelled upon it while the goblins came to worship him there in their home. He came to treasure the filthy creatures, and decided to award them, promising them lives above ground.”

  “That’s how the war started,” Nikka breathed.

  “How did you know about this?” Friesa asked him.

  “After we thought him defeated, others of his tribe sought us out. They apologized for his actions, as they hadn’t foreseen him doing anything quite so evil. They heaped us with gifts of gold they had hoarded away, which helped bring commerce and trade back to the lands around us. They had also begged a favor, that we would help rid them of the goblins that had been sent to their lands. I had to stay and help the humans here get back on their feet.”

  “That’s why Yosan and Hudreia left, then.” Nikka was nodding to herself while listening to his story.

  “Well, not the only reason,” Mortul said. He left it at that, though, as the real reasons were more difficult to explain. The consumption of so much blood had the three of them in a frenzy, and Yosan and Hudreia did not trust themselves to be amongst humans right after the war. They left so they could detox in their own time, but also to track down the goblins that plagued the wyverns.

  Mortul had hardly been able to contain his bloodlust as well, but sheer willpower prevailed in the end.

  Yosan and Hudreia walked back to them. They had led the horses out to an open area in the plains to graze. The mounts were smart enough to stay put so as to be available when they were needed again, and they didn’t want the horses too near just in case an attack came from the cave.

  “So, Mortul, what is our plan here?” Hudreia asked as she handed around the small kegs of blood they’d been carrying around for this moment.

  Yosan broke in before Mortul could answer, “I think we should form a circle and fry the bastard.”

  Mortul considered as he watched Yosan punch a hole in the side of the small cask and drink deeply. The pair had told him before how they would trap goblins with a circle of power, and either force the goblins to run through or close it down on them, searing them or freezing them to death. Either way was effective.

  With the five of them, they could potentially form a much larger circle, with the same deadly results. And bolstered by the blood they were now all drinking down…

  “I think it is the best way to ensure his defeat this time. The only question is, how do we trap him?”

  “Or how do we get him to fly through it?” Nikka chimed in.

  Mortul mugged a thoughtful look. “Truly, that would be the better option, to catch him in flight. If we catch him at speed, he would be unable to slow in time or turn tight enough to avoid it.”

  The others nodded in agreement, Nikka dabbing daintily at the blood in the corners of her mouth.

  “Okay, here is what we will do. The four of you will remain here, forming up most of the circle under the mouth of the cave.”

  “What will you do?” Hudreia asked him, folding her hands across her chest.

  “I will be climbing up on that ledge up there, above the mouth of the cave. You all stay down here, and when he flies in start the power circle. I will hide up top and at the last-minute reach down with my power to connect the circle fully. He will fly through it on his way into the cave.”

  Hudreia continued to eye him as if she knew there was more to it. To her credit, though, she said nothing further, only drew her dark dagger. This was their last fight, and they all had to be prepared to do anything to win.

  Mortul nodded to Yosan and Hudreia, patted Friesa on the shoulder, and kissed Nikka on the forehead before he turned and strode off to climb the large rocks to reach the ledge above the cave. He needed to reach it before Hielrich flew back in to settle down for his days’ rest.

  Before it was time, and before he had quite reached his destination, the flapping of large wings could be heard reverberating through the night air. Cursing the timing, he looked down to see the four below him forming up and streaming their powers between them. Yosan sent a blue line of ice to Nikka, who caught it in her right hand and sent on a streak of white-hot light to Friesa with her left. In return, the youngest of the warlocks sent an arc of yellow power, dripping s
parks, to Hudreia, who looked up to watch Mortul scramble the rest of the way to the ledge.

  Once he reached it, Mortul crouched to watch the wyrm fly in towards the cave. He spotted him seconds later, flapping hard but slow as if something were amiss. But once Hielrich saw the magic below his cave entrance, he shrieked and flapped harder, aiming towards the group of warlocks on the ground.

  Not giving them any time or reason to break their sections of the power circle, Mortul stood and shot a stream of dark energy out at Hielrich. The strike didn’t hurt him too bad but was enough to capture his attention. When he was spotted standing so close to his lair entrance, another shriek split the air, followed by increased wingbeats as Hielrich launched himself towards his mortal enemy.

  The wyrm’s approach was still slower than expected, and Mortul surmised that it was injured somehow. He sent out another stream of dark power, then another, tapping on Hielrich’s wings one and then the other.

  The next shriek sounded more like a scream, and Mortul knew he had found the suspected wound.

  He dangled his arms to his sides as if he were pausing in his attacks to regroup. The wyrm doubled its efforts and flapped directly towards him, and Mortul knew he had no plan of flying into the cave.

  A breath’s time before Hielrich was upon him, Mortul snapped his power down from both hands, connecting to Yosan and Hudreia, and completing the circle. He felt the completed ring of power zinging through his muscles and veins. He could feel each individual power thrumming through him, intensified by the blood and the magic daggers they all gripped. Fire and Ice and Lightning. And the intense light, warm and beautiful. The contrast to his own dark energy. He drew upon their strength and waited for the right moment to strike.

  The instant before Hielrich opened his mouth to spit acid, Mortul flung his hands above his head to bring the circle up high enough to spread over the wyrm.

  Hielrich snapped his jaw shut and tried in vain to reverse by twisting his body mid-air. He wrenched around enough only to keep his tail outside the shield before the rest of his scaly body sailed through the magic barrier and was melted down to the bone by the sheer power held within it.