Calm Before the Storm

by Cara Lake

  “Ouch!” Irina felt the stinging blow as physical pain recalled her to reality with a sharp jolt. “That hurt!”

  “Well stop being so melodramatic and wallowy, then.”

  “Wallowy! What’s wallowy—is it even a word?” groaned Irina rubbing her cheek with a frown.

  “Who cares? It got you talking at last,” said Cassi satisfaction in her voice. “We really need to get a grip on our situation here. Don’t know if you realize it, but things are not going our way at the moment.”

  “Of course I realize it!” Irina cried stunned at Cassi’s lack of sympathy. “Tyr’sdead! He was stabbed right in front of me by that bastard dark warrior friend of yours!”

  “He’s not my friend!” scoffed Cassi in an irritated tone. “And anyway Tyr should have moved or something. Looked to me like he let himself get stabbed.”

  “How can you say that? He had no chance!” Irina was irate now. “Your stupid enigmatic warrior person had no need to do that—and I think you have a thing for him. You seemed pretty happy to see him just before he stabbed Tyr.”

  “No I did not!”

  “Did so!”

  “Take that back!”

  “No, you take it back!”

  “Well this is absolutely fascinating!” A deep voice cut across their argument. “Are you going to start tearing each other’s hair out? I do love a good cat fight.”

  They both froze.

  “Oh don’t stop. I was enjoying you both so much. It’s making it difficult for me to choose which one of you to have first.” The man speaking raised his hands up and down as if weighing up his options. “Hmm, what am I in the mood for—blonde or brunette? It’s such a hard choice!”

  The interruption shocked Irina out of her grief and she finally took stock of their surroundings. They were in a cage about ten feet square in the middle of a large dark room, columns on each side, lit by torches. A heavy wooden door now stood open at the far end through which a group of about ten people had entered.

  The person who spoke was a tall brown-haired man. He had dark bronze skin and arresting pale blue eyes the color of cornflowers. He wore his hair long, to his shoulders, the dark whiskers on his chin cut into a thin goatee. Hanging from his ears were two gold hoops, and a smaller hoop pierced his left eyebrow. The man wore a sharp black suit, black shirt and a red tie. Irina was also surprised to see his feet adorned by black boots made out of what looked like snakeskin.

  Cassi didn’t flinch, turning her anger toward him. “And you are? Or shall I just call you Mr. Nosey? We were having a private conversation.” The man walked forward until he was inches from the bars and Cassi’s face.

  “I will ignore the name-calling as I’m sensing you’ve had a bit of a rough time lately.” He smirked, his eyes leering over the full length of her body as if he wanted to devour her. “And I would guess that you are the celebrated Cassiopeia, famous Eunomi warrior, daughter of Earth and Sky. I have heard a lot about you.”

  “Yeah well, I’ve been around a while,” Cassi replied coolly, and Irina could only stare in admiration at her friend’s nonchalance under the scrutiny of his leering gaze.

  “Let us hope your status doesn’t change too soon then,” said the man with a sugary smile. “We will have to see what entertainment you can provide me with. I do like to be entertained.”

  Irina could feel the shivers running through her as he spoke, the slither of his voice a creeping snake over her flesh. He turned his attention to her. “Ah! The ever so lovely Peace. They didn’t lie. You are beautiful. It does seem a shame.” He snapped his fingers and a female figure peeled away from the group by the door and made her way to the cage. “Bring her to the great hall,” he ordered, his tone more darkly sinister. “Cassiopeia can stay here. I like her spunk.”

  “Choronzon,” said Cassi in a more sober tone. “You are Choronzon, aren’t you? Let Irina go. You don’t really need her. You have Tyr. I’m sure he’s still alive somewhere and you can have me. I’ll stay if you let her go.” Cassi’s tone was earnest, her fear for Irina obvious.

  “Where would the fun in that be?” replied Choronzon. “And besides, I already have you.” He motioned the female to the cage door. She unlocked it. Cassi tried to run at her but suddenly stopped short, paralyzed by some kind of force. Irina felt energy crackle through the air and realized it was emanating from Choronzon. He raised an eyebrow. “I am more powerful than you, little girl. Don’t try my patience and you might survive a while longer.”

  The female pulled Irina out of the cage and into Choronzon’s arms. She locked the door and as she did Cassi charged toward her, grabbed her throat and rammed her head into the bars. Irina watched in horror as the woman collapsed with Cassi’s hands still clawing at her.

  Choronzon sighed heavily. “You really can’t get the staff these days,” he lamented, holding on to Irina’s arm tightly. “Morana! Clean up this mess!”

  Irina caught one last look of fear in Cassi’s eyes as he whisked her from the room followed by the rest of his entourage.

  Chapter Thirty

  Tyr woke up in chains, his brain fuzzy and clogged in a foggy haze. He was lying on a hard, flat surface, wrists and ankles restrained. His torso bound in thick bandage, chest aching and sore, not from where the blade had sliced into his flesh, but where his heart beat anxiously over the absence of Irina from his side. Where was she? And why was he not dead?

  The two thoughts echoed in his head as his body gradually solidified back to the reality of his situation.He shifted his head sideways, and his vision became more focused as he took in the space that enclosed him. The walls were stained crimson, blotches of darker almost black-red scumbled in patches across the surface. The red patches spread over onto the ceiling and as he gazed up at the intense color, his nose scented the smell of dry, coppery blood and reality hit him. The walls were painted in blood. Probably the blood of past inmates and victims. As he contemplated that sobering fact, a creak to his left had him shifting to see a tall lean man enter the room. He had blue-green hair cut in choppy spikes around a visage of the palest white. The absence of blood in those cheeks enhanced the scarlet glow of his eyes, which were deep-set under arching brows of white-gray. His blue-veined lips opened to expose two sharp canine fangs, revealing the man’s sanguini lineage. The smile extended, exposing more teeth as he acknowledged Tyr’s consciousness.

  “So you are awake at last,” he said, his voice a crisp, clear bell ringing in Tyr’s ears. Tyr tried to move his wrists but the restraints were too tight.

  “As you can see. Are these really necessary?” He inclined his head toward the offending chains.

  The sanguini healer smiled again. “According to Abrasax, yes.”

  Tyr’s lips were dry. “How long have I been here?” he asked.

  “Two days.” Two days. Where was Irina? Tyr’s heart lurched, energy fanning out to conduct a search party, striving to make a connection. Agitated until he felt the faint sizzle of a familiar electrical pulse, a magnetic draw on his soul. Relief. She was in the vicinity. Somewhere.

  The healer began to undress Tyr’s wounds, removing the bandages carefully with long, elegant fingers. “I am Zagan,” he said as he worked. “You are in the city of Serpens on Ophiuchus. I have heard that you are Earthani, which I find hard to believe as you have healed so quickly. Your cell tissue began reconstruction barely hours after you received the wound.”

  “I also have Lyrani blood,” Tyr informed him, remembering for a moment what he had learned about his mother and considering the effect that might have had on his body and strength.

  “Ah!” said Zagan, “that accounts for it. Lyrani have that capacity, particularly if they are saevici.” He stopped the motion of his fingers for a moment to inspect Tyr’s injury. “It is good that you are awake,” he continued. “Choronzon, Lord of the Abyss, has been awaiting you and he was getting impatient. We really don’t want him impatient!”

  The bandages were off and Tyr could see the faint red s
car, a vivid reminder of the slicing blade wielded by the dark warrior. Why had he stabbed Tyr if he hadn’t meant to kill him? He recalled his shock and the horror of Irina’s pain as that blade ripped into his chest, heard again her choking cry of anguish as she fell to her knees cradling him in her arms. He would never forget her strength, her bravery. How she had fought to keep him alive.

  It was her energy that had held him in place, sustained his body as his organs went into shock. It was her determination that had jerked his heart back into action, urged his body to counterattack and defend itself. She was the sole reason for his existence and he would fight to the death for her. Tyr’s whole body vibrated with the primal need to ensure her safety, the magnetic draw between them repeatedly insisting he forge a path to her side. To get to her, he would have to bide his time and see how this game played out.

  “Then you need to unchain me if he’s so eager to see me and take me to him,” he told Zagan.

  Zagan laughed at that, a tinkling high-pitched giggle that grated on Tyr’s ears. “I can take you to him, but I think we’ll keep the chains.”

  Zagan opened the doors and signaled to someone outside. A familiar person entered. Unfortunately, one he had hoped never to see again. Her blonde tresses were braided in array of dreads that created a Medusa-like effect, almost a halo of snakes that bobbed and bounced seductively as she walked, and Tyr wondered again, what the hell she was.

  Rusalka strode in and immediately slapped him hard across the jaw. Leaning over him she hissed, “I bet you never thought you’d see me again!” The venom in her voice slid over his flesh like crawling insects. “But look at you. Now you are the one in chains and I finally get to play with you. This is how I like my men—helpless at my feet.”

  “Rusalka, it’s a pleasure as always. The last time I saw you, you were a little entangled,” said Tyr licking the blood from his lips, aware that Zagan was looking at him, his eyes dark with an almost feverish glow. Bloodthirst? Rusalka’s eyes flashed red and she whipped her hand back over his cheek again, this time letting her nails dig into the surface of his skin.

  “Keep your thoughts to yourself,” she hissed, withdrawing a leather strap from her waistband and grabbing Tyr by the hair. She lifted his neck to clip the band around it. Two shedu guards in their beast form entered to unchain his hands and feet from the bed but they made sure his hands were bound, his feet shackled as they pulled him up. One of them attached a chain to the leather collar, which Rusalka grasped, wrenching Tyr forward onto his knees, pleasure evident on her face with every tug of the leash.

  * * * * *

  Cassi tamped down a sharp spike of panic that heaved in her chest as Irina disappeared with Choronzon. She needed to keep a clear head. Realizing she was not alone, she stopped staring at the unconscious female and turned her gaze to the one he called Morana.

  She watched as Morana walked cautiously over to stare at the fallen female, remarking, “I could have told her you might do something like that. She’s not very bright.”

  Cassi studied the Discordant female. Morana obviously wasn’t stupid. She was very tall, probably nearly six feet. Her long, tawny hair hung loose with two small braided strands on each side of a heart-shaped face that supported slanted eyes of an unusual turquoise blue. It was a beautiful face but as Cassi well knew that beauty was only surface deep. Morana was hard as nails. Turquoise eyes scanned her intently. “I know you have her key,” she finally said.

  Cassi tried to hide her dismay. This Morana missed nothing and had apparently seen Cassi deftly palm the fallen female’s key as she slid to the floor unconscious. “I do?”

  “Don’t play games, Cassiopeia. I know a lot about you and we have a mutual friend.”

  “Oh yeah? Who’s that then?”

  Morana tilted her head appraisingly. “The one you call the dark warrior.”

  “He’s no friend of mine,” replied Cassi coolly.

  “Really?” queried Morana. “He seemed rather upset that Choronzon has claimed you. I think he wanted to claim you for himself.”

  “Well he can go hang!” Cassi said heatedly, ignoring the stutter in her chest. “I belong to no one and anyway he stabbed friend of mine. Oh and he cheats!”

  “Maybe you protest too much.” Morana looked coy. “But enough of him. I can help you—but first I would like to know of another of your Eunomi warriors.”

  “Why would you help me?” asked Cassi suspiciously.

  “I have helped the Eunomi many times,” answered Morana. “They pay well.”

  Cassi knew there were Eunomi informants on Ophiuchus and it was very possible that Morana was one. She didn’t seem eager to stop Cassi from escaping, considering she knew Cassi had a key.

  “I can tell you where the pendants are,” continued Morana. “Without them they cannot perform the ceremony and your friend will survive a little longer.”

  “I won’t tell you anything about the Eunomi that might harm them.”

  “Do you know Ziad the healer?”

  Cassi hesitated. “I do,” she said cautiously.

  “What’s he like?”

  The question surprised her. This Morana was a strange creature. Why the interest in Ziad? “He’s a nice guy.”

  “Tell me what he does apart from healing. Does he have family, a female?”

  “This is getting personal,” said Cassi, confused by her inquiries. Did this Morana have a crush on Ziad?

  “Tell me if he has a female and I will tell you where the pendants are.”

  “As far as I know Ziad is young, well not that young, a few hundred years or so, free and single. He does like girls though but tends to get caught up in his work. He’s a bit of a geek that way, oh and he likes plants and animals. A lot. There, does that help? Next time I see him if you like I’ll give him your number, how’s that?”

  “Perfect.” Morana smiled. “That’s perfect.”

  “Pendants?” prompted Cassi.

  “Oh, Abrasax has them.” Morana seemed to lose interest in Cassi as she hauled up the still-unconscious female and threw her effortlessly over her shoulder.

  “But where?” insisted Cassi.

  “Oh, he keeps them close, somewhere on his person.” Morana was nearly out the door.

  “That’s not much help.” Cassi was irritated.

  “If you want to find him, go to the Gilded Lily. It’s a brothel in the main square. That’s all I can give you. I have to get this silly bitch out of here or Choronzon will be after me. By the way, wait five minutes before leaving. The guards will be doing a check in a minute. And take the stairs down.” With that she was gone.

  Cassi paused, waiting a few minutes until she heard the heavy footsteps of the guards passing by the room. Sliding her hand around the bars she unlocked the door of the cage. Her first thought was of Irina and the danger she was in. Choronzon could be killing her right now, but Morana had seemed sure that Abrasax had the pendants and that he was having a wild time in a brothel so it was to the brothel she needed to go. Choronzon wouldn’t kill Irina without first trying to take her essence in order to use it to control The Balance, and for that he needed the pendants. He might already have control of Tyr but if Tyr was dead, then being able to use the essence of Peace to screw things up was the next best alternative. Either way, if she could get her hands on the pendants, it would help ensure Irina’s safety.

  Cassi made her way stealthily along the dark corridor. She was in some kind of palace with columns running along each side of the space, supporting ornate Discordant-inspired carvings showing bodies twisted in grotesque scenes of torture and debauchery. At the end of the corridor the stairs went both up and down. Following Morana’s advice she went down to find herself in the area that contained the kitchen. There was a foul staleness in the air and Cassi made a note never to accept an invitation to dine with Choronzon.

  Slipping past the weary kitchen slaves via the darkness of the shadows, Cassi eventually made her way outside into the dark-purple light o
f an Ophiuchus dusk. She recognized the city of Serpens down below, spread out like a black pit of hell, its streets a labyrinth of alleyways that were home to ruthless cutthroats and thieves. She saw that the palace she had been held in was familiar to her. It was the palace of a Chthoni warlord called Phenex. He was a savage brute with a bloodthirsty reputation and for the last hundred years had ruled Serpens with an iron fist. Another Discordant she didn’t want to be within ten feet of.

  Making her way on silent feet, keeping to the shadows, Cassi navigated the streets. All was quiet. No one traveled late at night through Serpens without good reason. She cut down an alleyway to avoid some of Phenex’s guards who were making the rounds, when suddenly a gloved hand punched its way out of the darkness beside her and grabbed her hard around the mouth. At the same time, another arm clamped her around the waist and dragged her backward into the shadows. Cassi tried to struggle.

  “Don’t move!” A heated whisper. A recognizable voice. Cassi went still. The hand on her mouth relaxed. “Tani, is that you?” Cassi whispered back.

  “Yes and Ziad.” Another solid form emerged from behind as Tani let go of her and Cassi spun around. She was so happy to see them that she grabbed them both into a tight embrace.

  “Cassi, you’re choking me!” gasped Tani.

  “I’m so glad you’re here!”

  “We’re not the only ones,” said Ziad calmly. “There are squads of Eunomi all over the city.”

  “Okay, great. So what’s the plan?”

  “We’re awaiting orders,” said Tani. “The wiccani scried and found both Tyr and Irina’s auras in Phenex’s palace.”

  “That’s where I’ve just come from,” said Cassi. “So Tyr is alive?”

  “Why wouldn’t he be?” asked Ziad.

  “Long story. Later. I was pretty sure they wouldn’t let him die but Choronzon is there and he has Irina, so what are we going to do about it?”