Angst Box Set 1

by David Pedersen

  They both nodded and turned to face the dragons.

  “There are too many to fight,” EnDaer cried out.

  “There is no time to argue! Now!” ANduaut commanded, and the two men ran into the standing flock.

  ANduaut struck out and sliced at every dragon he passed. EnDaer flipped and parried slashing claws, cutting with his mean daggers. Not a single dragon fell. As they approached the center, the dragons began to lift off. Within seconds, the storm of sand was upon them again. It was as if the very wind had let loose daggers.

  ANduaut’s body cooked in a blast of dragonfire. A jaw snapped shut around his arm, jerking away a mouthful of muscle. EnDaer gurgled, screaming through blood as flame ravaged his face and chest.

  “No!” ANduaut roared. “I don’t want to die!”

  “Is that so?” said a man’s high-pitched voice. “You don’t have to die this day. Not completely. Not yet.”

  Time stopped. The burning flames and biting sands hung in the air as if painted on canvas. The dragons were still and silent. ANduaut felt no pain. He looked at EnDaer, who was still covering his face but no longer screaming. Outside their prison, beyond the sand and scales, his father appeared to be weeping. The very tall, ageless man walked to EnDaer and began wiping off his wounds like brushing away lines in sand.

  EnDaer was whole again, but his face was filled with panic. “What do you want?”

  “Funny you should ask,” the bald man replied with a mischievous grin.

  Two months ago at Cliffview in Unsel

  Duke Yardel and Lady Delora looked at Alloria with eyes that wanted to trust. She stared at the floor with a blush in her cheeks. She knew the blush appeared genuine, because she’d taken extra care with her makeup earlier that evening. The young woman squeezed her eyes shut and yawned uncontrollably. Her father also yawned, making her mother frown at him.

  “We aren’t that old.” She slapped him playfully in the chest with the back of her hand. “You must make a presence. We are guests.”

  “Of course, dear,” he said, swallowing a second yawn and facing his daughter. “You promised if we brought you to Cliffview, you would do as asked, and tonight we ask you to go to bed.”

  “I promise.” She feigned disappointment. “I want to adventure, but I said I would stay, so I’ll be here, bored.”

  “Honey, this place will be much more fun when you’re grown. It’s boring for children,” Lady Delora said consolingly.

  Alloria fought back the wince, pleading with her father with the biggest puppy dog eyes she could summon, if not to be set free from the confines of this inn then hopefully from the unwelcome and condescending prattle of her third stepmother. Her first mum, daughter to a baron, had died when she was too young to remember. The other two, a countess and a duchess, had both passed away suddenly. “Unfortunate circumstances to secure your future,” he’d explained dismissively. “It will make sense when you are older.”

  “Yes, ma’am,” she said with her best ‘I’m only sixteen and not a full-grown old woman like you’ smile.

  Lady Delora looked momentarily sad before bristling. She stood upright and gripped her husband’s arm tight. “We will be late.”

  “Yes, dear,” he said, patting her hand. He faced Alloria with a dad-look of concern and cautious trust. “We won’t be long, but no need to stay up.”

  “Okay,” she said, kissing him on the cheek. “Have fun, Father. You too, Delora.” She refused to call her mother.

  Lady Delora shut her eyes slowly and grimaced as though preparing for battle, but the fight was interrupted by Yardel hastily leading her out of the room.

  Alloria flopped onto her bed. The warm flannel nightgown a five-year-old would wear made her perspire, and not in the fun way. She looked down as she straightened it out, admiring her large breasts and wondering if the too-old wife number four felt like less of a woman when comparing her wasting, drooping figure to Alloria’s.

  After a whispered count to one hundred, skipping most of the numbers in the middle, she tore away the ugly brown flannel nightie to reveal a black corset cut so low and so tightfitting that little was left to the imagination. Her black leather pants fit her curves perfectly, and her heeled boots were thigh high. She sat up and ran a brush through her honey-brown hair, smiling at their foolishness. This wasn’t a city for grown-ups; this was a city for fun and adventure—exactly why her friends had followed her here and were waiting at a brothel on the other side of town.

  “You may only be sixteen, but what tavern would turn you away?” She looked at the mirror and smiled wickedly.

  The room shook, making her gasp. According to her father, the occasional earthquake was normal for Cliffview. It wasn’t normal for her, but as the quaking subsided, so did her concerns as she refocused on more important matters. Alloria added more makeup, heavy on the eyes and lips, ready to be the party. The room shook again, violently this time. Books dropped from shelves and a candle fell over. She tapped it out with her hand and licked the heat from her palm. The shaking stopped, and she took a calming breath.

  Alloria left her room to find a busy hallway filled with men and women too concerned to notice how stunning she looked. Their loss, she thought, spinning on a sharp heel to stomp down the stairs in all her glory. She grabbed the rail as the inn shook again, and dust dropped from boards overhead. She stumbled to the front door and jammed her shoulder against it to force it open. People were screaming and running up the causeway.

  “What’s this?” she asked.

  “Get out!” a cute, curly-haired blond man said, madly rapping a broom against doors as he ran past. “We’re under attack! Get out now!”

  She watched him, dumbfounded by his crazy. He ran along the cliff-side path to stairs leading to the next level, which he scrambled up. She jerked her head toward the loud wrenching of metal. The steel barricade that kept everyone from falling to their deaths collapsed as the cliff wall crumbled like pastry. Alloria leaped back to the inn as the path before her plummeted into the sea. A man behind her grabbed her shoulder to steady her, but the inn was already splitting apart. Floorboards tore, cracking like chips of ice and falling away.

  “Please, no! I don’t want to die!” she cried out as her feet dropped from under her.

  A strong, cold hand gripped her forearm, and instinctively, she held tight. People and buildings and animals fell into the ocean like snow as time slowed without halting. The world continued to collapse—but seconds became minutes. Alloria looked up into the bulging eyes of an incredibly tall man. He was bald as if elderly, but his face bore no wrinkles; she couldn’t begin to guess his age.

  “You are already dead,” he said. “If that’s what you want?”

  “Please, no.” Alloria looked down. There was nothing underfoot. She hung by his hand and stared into calculating eyes. “What do you want?”

  “Funny you should ask,” he said. “Why, I want you, dear.”

  There had to be a way out! She had always been able to manipulate her parents, all of them. Could she negotiate her life like she got out of being grounded? “What if I say no?” she asked tentatively.

  “Look down. I’ll say it once more, you’re already dead,” he said. “But you can continue to exist. I will own you, you will serve nobody but me, my bidding will be your greatest desire, and to go against me will be to face an oblivion worse than death.”

  Her eyes stung as tears washed away her makeup. She looked around for help, but she was alone. More than anything, she wanted her father. Even her step-mum. Her heart wrenched, but what choice did she have? She swallowed her fear. “What do I get in return?”

  “This is exactly why I chose you,” he said. “You get everything you want. You will become queen of Unsel. Men will bow at your feet and follow your whim. You will be a harbinger of what is to come. You will not die. Not completely.”

  “Who are you?” she asked.

  “I’m the glue that keeps it all together,” he stated. “I am the Vivek.”<
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  “Done.” She held out her hand to shake. For now, she thought.

  “Very done.” He took her hand and placed a ruby ring on her finger.

  One month ago in Angoria

  It was a day of days. The sky was clear, the ocean calm, and the air cool. Her entire life, she’d wanted to travel, wanted to adventure, and the beauty before her was like a personal invitation. She glanced over her bare toes gripping the cliff edge to see a crowd of waiting women. Their people, her friends, were tiny specks from this height. Her stomach clenched, and she wrung her hands. It was going to be her first time for so many things.

  “I hate that we have to leave, mother,” the tall young woman lied nervously, her toes wiggling.

  “Faeoris,” her mother chided, brushing her daughter’s long, fine brown hair with her fingers. “This is how we survive, how we continue.”

  “Yes, I know,” Faeoris said sadly. “I guess I just worry for you. You’re old, and this trip is so long.”

  “I’m not as old as that, young warrior. Not for a Berfemmian,” she said proudly. “And I am still the feather that launches the flock.” She winked. “As you will be one day.”

  “Maybe I should wait until next year,” she argued weakly.

  “You’re a woman, and there is no longer any need to wait.” Her mother smiled. “It’s time for adventure, your first of many.”

  “It’s a long way down.” Faeoris’s eyes widened with anticipation. “What if I don’t do it right? What happens if my wings don’t come out?”

  “They will appear because we need them, you will see.” Slalim took her daughter’s hand, and they both went over the cliff edge. “Follow me, and we will get the others.”

  Hands clasped, they leaped gracefully, as if diving into the ocean. They hung in the air for the briefest of seconds before arcing downward. Faeoris glanced over her shoulder. Nothing had happened, nothing appeared.

  “No!” Her mother’s voice was panic-stricken.

  Slalim’s grip tightened as they rushed to the ground. The air bursting in Faeoris’s lungs made her heart race, and she was unsure which would explode first. Where were their wings? She screamed even as time slowed, and she wondered if this was a nightmare. Halfway between the high cliff ledge and the low sandy ground, they stopped.

  “What is this?” her mother demanded. “We are supposed to be flying, not falling!”

  “Or stopping,” Faeoris couldn’t keep the shaking from her voice. “I don’t want to die.”

  “You can live this day,” said a very tall, ageless man standing in the air beside them.

  “Is this your fault?” her mother asked through gritted teeth. “I’ll kill you.”

  The two women pushed themselves upward on an invisible platform. Slalim inspected her daughter before placing a hand on her cheek. Her mother looked incredibly old at that moment, as if the fall had aged her several decades. They both studied the man who stood a head taller.

  “You have one chance to save your lovely daughter,” he said, eyeing Faeoris hungrily. “Do you want to live?”

  “What do you want?”

  “Funny you should ask,” he said. “Why, I want you, and your daugh—”

  The older woman’s foot met his jaw with a loud crack.

  “Fine.” With a flick of his hand, she fell through the platform, screaming in anger.

  “No!” Faeoris reached out. “Mother!”

  As she fell, a sliver of light left Slalim’s body. Silver and gold, the oval hung in the air like a distant star.

  “Now the choice is yours,” the old man said in delight. “You are almost dead, but you can continue to exist by my will alone. I will own you—”

  “Bastard,” she spat before jumping into the air, kicking him in the chest with both feet and launching toward her mother.

  “I’ve always hated Berfemmian,” he shouted from overhead. “We will simply do this without you!”

  Faeoris reached for the silver and gold light just beyond her grasp.

  1

  Angst was irritable. After all they’d been through, was it too much to ask for something to go right? How many monsters did he need to kill, how many foci did he need to bond with, how many women did he need to woo—well, that part wasn’t so bad—before he got one solid night’s sleep? Instead, he stood in an open field, smack dab in the middle of a dream. A foci dream.

  “Angst, duck!” Victoria warned, shielding her head in a poor attempt to crouch.

  A mountain peak zoomed by overhead and crashed into the ground, shattering a thousand feet away. Its passing showered the ground with debris. Rocks of all sizes pelted the earth like a hailstorm.

  Victoria screamed as a boulder landed on top of Angst.

  He shook his head and sighed. All the power that had come from bonding with his giant sword, Dulgirgraut, had not only saved his life, it had made him a hero. Again. He’d shared part of himself with the sword, and it had shared something with him. The bonding was intimate, and close, and a bit beyond his understanding. The sword wasn’t a friend, or a lover, or even a pet. His foci was more like a partner who didn’t always recognize that he might, possibly, have made his own plans. Like sleeping.

  Angst drifted out of the boulder like a slow-moving cloud, his ghostly presence passing through the rock unharmed. He reached out to calm his friend but couldn’t touch her.

  “It’s just a dream, Tori,” he said soothingly. “We’re okay. I’m okay.”

  She sniffed and wiped her cheeks. Her large green eyes were filled with worry and wet from loss. She pursed her pouty lips, struggling to hold back more tears, and tugged on a long strand of curly blond hair. “I should’ve figured when you changed into your armor.”

  Angst looked down in surprise. He was wearing the custom armor made for him back home in Unsel. The top half of his chestpiece was a cuirass that made him appear muscular, while the bottom half was chainmail that, fortunately, hid his gut. Black plate protected the front of his legs and part of his arms, but wide gaps kept zyn’ight armor, as Dallow called it, incredibly light so he could wield magic unencumbered.

  “Hey, it’s better than seeing me naked,” he said with a grin. “Well, better for me anyway.”

  Victoria’s battle gear made her look older than nineteen. Her riding boots reached over her knees, and low-cut black leather riding pants showed a pale, muscular midriff. Her top was the newly-acquired Berfemmian armor, a chainmail piece that barely covered her breasts while pushing them up and together. It was nice.

  “I thought by now you’d be bored of seeing me partially clothed.” She stared at him in warning.

  “Nope.” He grinned, wondering if she’d read his thoughts or if he’d just been that obvious.

  “It was that obvious,” she said as she looked around. “This isn’t Unsel, Angst. Why aren’t we in Unsel?”

  “I don’t know, Tori.” He was more concerned with her well-being than where they were. “Maybe the dreams will take us there next.”

  “I’ll tear us out of this dream if it doesn’t happen soon!” She crossed her arms. “I need to know if Vars killed my mother and Tyrell!”

  They’d shared a dream that had taken them all around Ehrde. They’d seen a Nordruaut wielding an enormous battle axe, another foci, that left him coated in ice. Nicadilia had killed her father, or was it her red ring that had killed the elderly despot? A dark-skinned old man was slaughtered by his son in the desert. It appeared that Rohjek was now allied with the gray men and purple women of Fulk’han. Heather was safe, but Scar was in danger. And the very worst: it seemed Vars had killed Captain Guard Tyrell, and Queen Isabelle, Victoria’s mother. Not only had she lost her mother, but Victoria, his best friend, would be Queen of Unsel, if it all proved to be true.

  Too much had happened in one night for it to be coincidence, but still, they needed confirmation. After she’d recovered from the blow of seeing her mother killed, Victoria had wanted to dream again. He’d warned her that they needed to slee
p apart and not share dreams, to get actual rest, but she’d been determined to find proof. This wasn’t it, and he sighed deeply.

  Tori crouched again, protecting her head. Angst turned to see a ball of fire hurtling toward them from the opposite direction. It was the same size as the mountaintop, and he instinctively tried to dive for safety. He never moved right in dreams, and, in the end, could do nothing but watch in awe as the small sun passed through them, leaving a blackened smoky path in its wake. He now hung at an awkward angle, an embarrassing reminder that, in spite of being an official hero, things never worked out like he planned.

  “Your dreams always take us where we need to go,” Angst suggested. “Maybe we need to see this first. It could be important.”

  “More important than my mother?” She swallowed hard.

  “I didn’t mean that, it’s just...” As Angst righted himself, he looked off into the distance, taking it all in while she continued glaring at him. “Um, Tori? Where are we?”

  They stood dumbstruck in the middle of a vast expanse, stunned and horrified by their surroundings. The field was miles across, a circular valley in the middle of mountains. To their left was a creature of raging fire, an exposed volcano shaped almost like a man. Directly across from Fire stood a mountain with arms, legs, and a head—a crude rendering of the Earth maiden they’d watched die. South of Earth hovered a cloudburst— rain pouring from a dark sky to reveal a shadowy figure churning with power. A tornado whirled to the south of Fire, so tall it reached high up past the clouds, with spouts of dusty air protruding like arms. Each element was positioned at four corners of a square with Angst and Victoria in the center. It reminded him of a game or tournament, but on a scale he could barely fathom.

  “Angst, what’s that?” Victoria asked, pointing directly to the north.

  A thick beam of white light shot from the ground and seemingly forever into the sky. It was so bright Angst had to look away, blinking dots from his eyes.