She was awakened by her ears popping and her stomach doing somersaults. They were dropping from the sky in a steep dive. Wind rushed into her mouth and she forced her head sideways, breathing through her nose as best she could. Finally, the dragon opened its wings with a snap, leveling their flight.
The ground was far below them. Judging by the sun’s position through the clouds, it was now well past midday. The mountains splayed in jagged lines, splashes of color making the landscape look like a half-finished painting. She strained to look as they soared above an immense, rocky valley. A river ran through the center, its white-frothed waters rushing toward...her mouth dropped open.
The stronghold of Trivium stood on a mountainside at the valley’s end. The waterway curved around the incline, vanishing into chasms of darkness that presumably led deep underground. Glittering obsidian dotted the castle’s stone. The outer walls were at least thirty feet high, connected by circular turrets, each with an unusual flat roof. Landing platforms, she deduced in fascination. The inner walls were taller than the outer ones, connected by more towers. Sharp spikes jutted above the ramparts and the ground between the two sets of walls, with narrow bridges linking them.
Flowers and greenery were scattered among myriad of buildings and elegant fountains. In the middle sat the keep, a colossal square tower even taller than the inner battlements. It sparkled in the afternoon sun; the stone interspersed with thousands of jewels. More landing platforms jutted at various levels, leading to the mysterious interior.
A city nestled in the shadow of the castle walls. Buildings lined in neat rows along the steep mountain slope, with cobbled streets in between them and a wide road through the center, winding in the direction of the valley. She followed its trail with her eyes, where other villages and hamlets could be seen in the distance. Residents chatted in groups on the lanes, others shopped in the central market. Children played and chased each other among the buildings, dodging horse-drawn wagons rumbling along the streets. Market traders yelled for custom and a band played a lively tune from a pavilion. Although the residents must all be shifters, as her race never ventured beyond Paskyll, everyone was in human form. The only dragons in sight were the ones accompanying her.
Everything seemed...normal. Regular. Everyday. If it hadn’t been for the steep mountain slopes and the castle towering above it, the city could have been mistaken for any large settlement in Paskyll. Absorbed by her scrutiny, she belatedly noticed a turret coming into view at an alarming pace. She squeaked as the inner wall loomed toward her.
The biggest dragon had already shifted into his other form on the turret’s flat base, extending his arms. Her carrier hovered above him awkwardly and opened its talons. She fell like a stone, her stomach flipping. The warrior caught her, his muscles bunching with the strain.
She leaned her head on his shoulder without thinking. “I’m going to be sick.”
He set her on her feet with haste. “You will be dealt with in due course.”
She quailed, her belly still churning, clutching his brawny forearm as the other dragons landed side by side. Mist formed over their scaled bodies for a few seconds, clearing to reveal a man and a woman wearing similar clothes to the one holding her, with swords on their hips. The well-built man was an impressive sight, but he paled in comparison to the dark-haired woman beside him. With her tall, powerful physique, stark beauty, and air of command, she would have been intimidating even without a stare as cold as the North Sleets.
“Consider yourself fortunate we don’t kill you right now,” she snarled, “for putting your hands on our Captain of the Guard.”
Libby glanced at the man supporting her, biting her lip at the scratches on his face and the bloodied bite mark on his arm and fighting the urge to apologize. The grizzled warrior had presumably endured worse.
The captain addressed the female shifter. “Enough, Jahda. The girl will die tonight, without any assistance from you. Until then, we will show her the respect our laws decree. Go rest. You too, Gharrick.”
Jahda growled something illegible and allowed her companion to lead her to a stairwell by the low wall encasing the turret. The two soldiers disappeared down the steps, leaving Libby alone with the captain. Wind barreled through the ramparts, making her shiver.
“What did you do to my father?” she burst out.
He scrutinized her, his expression blank.
“The man who attacked you,” she said breathlessly. “Did you hurt him? Did you...kill him?”
His gaze softened. “I gave him a knock he won’t forget, but he lives.”
She exhaled. “Thank you.”
“Good afternoon, Captain Brand.”
The voice preceded two women appearing from another stairwell on the opposite side of the tower. The speaker was tall and slim, with silver-streaked hair in a braided bun and green eyes, which were crimson-ringed, just like the captain and his lieutenants. The younger one, slightly shorter, had sun-kissed skin and brown hair tied in two neat plaits. They wore simple gray livery with blue accents. Both studied Libby with interest.
“What a dear little thing,” the older woman remarked. “Just as pretty as the last one.”
The warrior grunted. “Don’t be fooled, Mhiri. She’s quite the hellion.”
The woman gave a throaty chuckle. “Hence the injuries? The mighty Brand, wounded by a human!”
Brand scowled. “Can you walk?”
It took Libby a moment to realize he was speaking to her, not the other women. “I think so.”
“Good. Mhiri and...what’s her name?”
The older woman glanced at her companion. “This is Summer, my second cousin’s eldest. She recently joined the staff.”
Brand turned to Libby. “Mhiri and Summer will tend to you from this point. I will collect you this evening for the ritual.” His voice filled with menace. “You will show them more courtesy than you demonstrated to me this morning. Understand?”
She gulped as the captain strode away without waiting for a reply. Mhiri took her arm, making her jump. “Come, human. You must be tired from the flight. We’ll take care of you.”
“Thank you,” she croaked. “My name is Libby Donaire.”
“Come with us, Libby. I appreciate how frightened you must be. It will be over soon.”
She recoiled at those kind yet brutal words. “I don’t want to die.”
Although the older woman sighed and Summer cocked her head sympathetically, they didn’t respond. She supposed there was nothing to say.
Chapter Seven
Rhetahn
The Gods of Jothesia sat in companionable silence in the parlor, the remains of their most recent meal discarded on the coffee table. Rhetahn leaned back in his armchair, where he’d been contemplating the fire in the hearth. Mhaljett lounged on the daybed beside him with his eyes half-closed, stroking the amulet around his neck. Storren lingered by the glass door to the landing platform, peering at something beyond.
The salon leading off Rhetahn’s bedchamber was his favorite haunt, high in the keep with a glass frontage overlooking the valley. Less formal than some other rooms, it had a modest, familiar ambiance. The carpeted floor and large hearth kept it warm and cozy. The simple décor – rustic tables and cabinets, plain yet comfortable furniture – felt welcoming, rather than sparse.
His brothers spent more time here than in their own parlors, which was fine with him. Mhaljett and Storren were more than family. After a lifetime lasting two millennia, they were extensions of himself. This room was a sanctuary, somewhere they could be siblings, rather than the transcendent beings their realm expected. He needed comfort today. He’d woken with the familiar, sickening dread in his belly, trepidation for what was to come that night. For what he would be expected to do.
“Brand has returned,” his youngest brother announced. “Bringing yet another offering for us to murder. A young female again."
He hid his flinch. “Don’t start, Storren.”
His brother scowl
ed. “How can you be so calm?”
“Because I recognize there is no alternative.” Rhetahn stood and headed toward him. “The Three must endure. Our strength keeps the realm safe from those who would destroy it.”
He peered through the glass at one of the inner rampart towers as Captain Brand, his powerful figure obvious even at a distance, strode away from three smaller figures. Mhiri, another servant he didn’t recognize, and a petite, blonde figure between them, wearing a dark red gown. The new sacrifice.
“Like who?” Storren demanded in response to his statement. “We have few enemies anymore. Most races worship us and the few who don’t, aren’t strong enough to challenge us.”
Mhaljett chose to speak, his voice measured. “These races who tolerate rather than revere us, what would they do if we became as weak and impotent as them? Even some who follow us would turn if our strength failed. We’d have power-hungry warriors and would-be tyrants charging the castle gates. You know this.”
Storren crossed his arms. “I still think we should seek other options—”
“There are none.” Rhetahn watched the three women on the tower disappear into the stairwell. “The Rondure was unique and irreplaceable.”
Words burst from Storren’s mouth, like he’d held them back for years. “Brothers, every time we do this, I lose a piece of my soul. To kill a fellow warrior in battle is one thing. To murder an unarmed human, even one willingly giving their life...”
Rhetahn pursed his lips. “We have no choice, brother. Our strength maintains peace and order in this realm. There is no other way to restore our magic.”
Mhaljett nodded. “Distasteful though it may be, it must be done.”
After a pause, Storren sighed. “Fine, although I declare for the record my aversion to this act. Again.”
“Noted,” Rhetahn said. “However, do try to hide it from the poor wretch they’ve given us. Our blessing will allow her to die in peace, knowing her eternal sleep will be protected. That is enough.”
Even to him, as the sacrifice emerged from the base of the tower into the courtyard and stared fearfully, his words sounded hollow.
Chapter Eight
Libby
After Brand departed, Mhiri and Summer led Libby down the spiral steps to the courtyard. The expanse of stone buildings, harsh yet beautiful sculptures, and cascading fountains looked so alien. Even the sweet-scented greenery framing the walkways was unfamiliar. The immense keep loomed above her like an axe ready to drop. Was anyone watching her from the dark interior? She squared her shoulders, just in case.
Rounding a fountain with a dragon statue in its center, the women escorted her toward a small edifice near the guardhouse. Sentries lingered outside, standing to attention when they spotted them.
Libby jolted to a halt. “Is this the dungeon?” She hated how small her voice sounded.
“No, dear.” Mhiri tugged her onward. “These are the official quarters of the sacrifice. Cleaned and dusted to perfection this week. You should be comfortable here.”
A crowd gathered as they approached, more blue-shirted guards plus a multitude of maids and footmen in gray and blue livery. They observed her with brazen stares, some muttering to each other under their breaths.
“They come to honor you,” Mhiri said, “in their own way. Hold your head high, child. Remember, you are a gift to this realm. A gift to the gods.”
Swallowing hard, Libby lifted her chin, scrutinizing the strangers with the same boldness they showed her. Height and athleticism seemed characteristic of their race, with most individuals at least a head taller than her. The women favored braids, some twisted into updos. Men wore their hair short, with thick beards commonplace. Her hunch regarding eye color was correct. Although their irises varied from dark brown to hazel to green and blue, all of them were encircled with crimson, like a ring of fire.
A sentry hurried to open the door of the single-story building, inclining his head at Mhiri, who ushered Libby through the threshold and into the entrance hall. Summer followed on their heels. Libby wasn’t sure if they expected her to faint or bolt. Perhaps both. She was mainly glad to be away from the onlookers. She glanced around the lobby. There wasn’t much to see other than stone walls, a polished floor, and a single door, which Mhiri opened with a flourish.
Woven matting covered the floor of the candlelit bedchamber. Colorful shawls and intricate silk tapestries were pinned to the walls. Vases of wildflowers had been placed sporadically throughout the room. She inhaled the fragrant scent as they entered. The high windows accorded privacy, allowing sunrays to dance through whilst being too high to accommodate prying eyes. A bed and bedside table were in one corner, opposite a dressing table with a large mirror. Opening a door next to the dressing table, she discovered a tiny restroom containing a tin bath on clawed feet.
“Do these quarters meet the satisfaction of the sacrifice?”
Mhiri’s voice turned formal enough to make Libby blink. “Oh...I suppose. I mean yes, it’s a lovely room, but please call me Libby.”
The woman smiled. “I’m required to ask, my dear. No one has ever said no yet. To be honest, I’m not sure of my appropriate response if they do. You’re not allowed in the keep until the ritual blessing, to ensure distance is maintained between you and The Three.”
Libby’s heart skipped a beat at the mention of The Three. “They’re here?”
“Of course. You’ll meet them at sunset.”
At the woman’s matter-of-fact statement, Libby exhaled slowly to dissipate the butterflies in her stomach. Her gods were in the vicinity. She would soon be in their presence.
Bustling into the restroom, Mhiri twisted one of the bath taps and after a few seconds, steaming water gushed into the tub.
“Impressive,” Libby said, thankful for the distraction.
The older woman nodded. “You’re fortunate. Although the keep boasts running water and a heating system, most of the outer buildings don’t. This is one of the exceptions.” She turned on the cold-water tap, then revealed the measuring tape in her hand. “Now, I need to ensure your gown will fit. You’re shorter than the last one.”
“The last sacrifice?”
The dragon shifter gestured for her to remove her clothes. “Yes. We prepare formal apparel in advance, both male and female, as we never know the sacrifice’s gender until they arrive.”
Libby’s stomach flipped at the reminder of what was to come. “I was told the one who preceded me was a young woman.”
“Indeed. A little older than you, perhaps. She was hysterical, the poor thing. I don’t believe she stopped weeping the entire time.”
After she finished her measuring, Mhiri directed Libby into the bathtub.
She did a poor enough job of hiding her bliss as she submerged, that both dragon shifters chuckled. They allowed her to immerse herself in beatific silence for several minutes, then helped her wash her hair with aromatic mountain-mint soap.
After Libby rinsed off the bubbles, Mhiri proffered a toweling robe. “Out you come, now.”
Libby grunted and sank lower in the water. What would The Three do if she refused to leave the bath? Would she be hauled naked to wherever the ritual was held?
“Come along, cheeky. Otherwise you won’t have time to eat.”
At those words, she peeked over the rim. While she’d been wallowing, an afternoon tea had been provided in the bedchamber. Cold meats, apples and alpine samphire were set on a silver platter atop the bedside table. Her stomach growled and she rose from the bath as if pulled by strings, to more laughs from her escorts.
As Summer helped Libby exit the tub and slip on a robe, Mhiri stepped back. “I need to fetch your gown and check the measurements. I’ll leave you in Summer’s charge. Eat, rest. Sleep if you need to.”
The older woman shut the door with a click. Libby curled on to the bed, glancing at the food.
Summer appeared equally uncertain, chewing her bottom lip and twisting her fingers. “Would you care to slee
p? I’m forbidden to leave you, but I can sit on the floor to give you more room.”
Libby shook her head. She’d never be able to sleep. “I’d like to talk, if you don’t mind.”
Summer perched beside her. At first, their conversation was stilted, as if the dragon shifter expected her to start screaming at any given moment. Slowly they began to converse and soon they were nattering like old friends.
“So, you see,” she finished, when Summer asked about the selection ceremony, “I wasn’t supposed to be in the tent, yet the spell chose me.”
“How odd,” the girl said. “I’ve never heard of that happening, although I don’t know much of magic rituals.”
“Have you always lived in the castle?”
“Oh no. My kin live at the other end of the valley. My father is a farmer. I arrived here a month ago to work in the kitchen. My mother is Mhiri’s second cousin, so she kept an eye on me and once she ascertained I’m not a complete fool, she offered me a position as one of her aids.”
“What is her role here?”
“Mhiri? She’s the hearthkeeper, in charge of the castle’s every-day running. All servants in Trivium report to her, except the sentries and soldiers. They’re under Captain Brand’s command.” She cocked an eyebrow. “Don’t your castles in Paskyll have hearthkeepers?”
“We don’t have any castles, to my knowledge. Has she held the position a long time?”
Summer nodded, nibbling a samphire spear. “Like her mother and grandmother before her. Her family have been Trivium’s hearthkeepers for two millennia.”
“Two thousand years? How old is she?”
“My parents told me she’s about nine hundred and fifty.”
Libby choked on an apple slice. “Is that old for a dragon shifter?”
The young woman shrugged, shuffling back on the bed and tucking her navy-blue gown under her crossed legs. “Not ancient. Most dragons live to around twelve hundred years. The most powerful among us can make it to two thousand. Some say Brand is close to that.”
Sacrifice Page 3
