Biting her lip, she sensed the god’s possessive gaze on her. Dammit, why couldn’t she resist him? They’d argued moments before their embrace. How did outraged frustration change to scorching passion and desperate need? What made her want to kiss, comfort, and pummel him at the same time?
A voice inside her suggested such a dangerous answer to her questions. She sucked in a breath.
No.
Clenching her fists, she knelt beside the ground shifter. To lose her heart to a god would be ludicrous. She was simply reacting the same swooning way most Jothesian females would, when faced with such a charismatic deity. She was not falling in love with the imperious, enthralling, exasperating man fated to kill her.
Absolutely, totally, definitely not.
Chapter Twenty-Six
Rhetahn
Two dwarves leapt aboard the barge with practiced ease, helping Rhetahn unhook the claws and tossing the ropes to their companions on the landing point. They didn’t bother securing the vessel, instead holding it in place while Rhetahn, Libby, and Dax gathered their gear and debarked onto the stone platform.
The little men on board reattached the claws and waved as the chain towed the barge away. The landing point was too small to moor there for an extended period, as unlike the small coracle tucked at the side, there was no room to drag the vessel from the path of passing boats. The two remaining dwarves explained they would guide them back to the surface and return to their own rivercraft.
Rhetahn adjusted his scabbard, trying to handle an odd, internal rocking sensation. He couldn’t help feeling melancholy when the barge disappeared into the distance. Despite the incident with the bluecaps and his unceasing concern regarding the demons, he’d enjoyed the unexpected boat trip. Parts of it, anyway.
The girl’s cheeks were tinged pink from their last embrace as she hefted the rucksack higher on her back. It was probably fortunate they’d reached their destination relatively fast. Her first experience of intimacy should occur in a more favorable location than a cargo barge. He planned to bed her, though. He’d given up fighting his attraction to her. Hopefully his lust would fade on its own afterward.
Recalling their earlier conversation, he shook his head as the dwarves led them along the torch-lined tunnel, away from the Yarkhelecht. Although he couldn’t believe it when she declined his reprieve, he understood her reasoning. He wouldn’t have allowed someone to sacrifice themselves in his place, either. However, her disclosure regarding the Rondure had been a pure shock.
How could she believe he was petty enough to hold a two-thousand-year grudge? And what of the rumors she spoke of? Was the Rondure’s loss a fabrication? He should have questioned her more but had found himself overwhelmed by his emotions, needing the comfort of her lips, her touch. Desperate to convince her he wasn’t the miscreant the stories portrayed him to be.
“Glad to be back on dry land?" he asked as she trotted by his side, a few paces behind Dax.
“Yes, although I still want answers. We humans have been misinformed. As have you and your brothers. We need to compare stories, right now.”
He inclined his head in amusement. “As you decree, little cat.”
“What happened the night you went to collect the Rondure?”
He lowered his voice. “You were correct earlier. The council were reluctant to give it up, but they didn’t tell us until we gave them our amulets to be recharged. The battle with the demons depleted our power, hence why they felt brave enough to challenge us. They informed us the stone was too dangerous for us and would be safer with humans. Having fought an exhaustive campaign to free them from tyranny, we didn’t appreciate the lack of confidence.”
“I can imagine,” she said dryly, hopping over a loose rock.
“We intended to use the Rondure just once every twenty-five years, along with a few drops of human blood. The council insisted it would corrupt us and should be sequestered away in Paskyll between each use. We were young, arrogant, overflowing with battle-lust, and affronted by their lack of faith. The row intensified and suddenly they presented a young girl.”
Dax drifted back to them, his keen hearing clearly picking up their conversation.
“The daughter of the high sorcerer?” Libby guessed.
“Correct. They carried her out, half-unconscious from pain, our symbols already carved into her skin. When we demanded an explanation, the sorcerers said they had devised an alternative way of completing the rite.”
“Involving a human sacrifice?” Dax seemed as fascinated as Libby.
“Yes. They encouraged us to kill the girl.”
They came to a halt under a lambent torch, lost in the story. The dwarves edged toward them. He raised an imperious hand and they backed away as he continued.
“We refused, of course, but she was...brainwashed. Convinced dying for her new gods was her destiny. While we argued with the high sorcerer, his peers cleansed our amulets in her blood. When we fathomed what was happening, we tried to save her. During the fight, her father forced his way to her side and stabbed her to death, completing the ritual and replenishing our power. Subsequently, the Rondure stone exploded. The council declared that proved its unpredictability. The consequences of its destruction and what it meant for their people didn’t seem to matter.”
“What did you do?” Libby asked.
He scowled. “We were outraged, like your story maintains. We executed the high sorcerer immediately and announced if this was how the humans wanted it, from then on, they would provide the sacrifices we needed. We expected the sorcerers to beg for another chance, to investigate other ways to rejuvenate our magic. Instead, they agreed. We always assumed they sought an alternative...” He shook his head and turned to Libby. “Tell me your version of events again. Why do humans believe the Rondure exists?”
She exhaled. “The rumors have permanently abounded. Apparently, a sorcerer from that night was plied with alcohol many years later and announced the stone’s continued existence. Although he denied it when he sobered up, the story stuck. The fact he died in mysterious circumstances afterward made it even more plausible.
“Many people living near Flat Peak at the time asserted they were witness to its concealment. The tales have been passed down through generations. No one has ever found it, and the council insists it no longer exists.” She bit her lip. “Rhetahn, if there is any truth to this—”
“The sorcerers duped us,” he said. “I admit we were distracted when they murdered the girl. They distorted what we saw. Perhaps they destroyed a different stone and used magic to disguise it as the Rondure.”
“Why?” Libby ran her hands through her hair. “If they hid it on purpose, they sentenced all future sacrifices to needless, avoidable death. To what end?”
“Can the Rondure be used for anything else?” Dax’s voice was soft. “Those who possess power tend to crave more. Could the council utilize the stone’s magic for their own ends?”
Rhetahn frowned. “Yes. The Rondure has amplifying and regenerating properties. It could increase their own magic and extend their lifespans.”
“They are remarkably long-lived,” Libby mused.
“The more we discuss this,” he said, “the more inclined I am to believe it.”
“If so, the high sorcerer will be traveling with the Rondure,” the ground shifter pointed out.
“Without a doubt,” Rhetahn agreed. “He’s coming to Trivium for a reason. He won’t journey with demons without his most powerful talisman. If we can get close enough, I can take it from him.”
“Take it?” Dax echoed.
Rhetahn made sure his words rang clear. “Lissabet is no longer the sacrifice. If what we have learned is correct, I intend to complete the ritual with the Rondure instead.”
“Understood.” Dax’s pale eyes twinkled, and he glanced at Libby. “Looks like the clip ’round the ear helped, eh?”
“Impertinent ground shifter,” Rhetahn muttered, as the young man strode away. He noticed the girl tw
isting her fingers. “What’s wrong?”
“I can’t believe the council would do this. I mean, they’re high-handed and enjoy the power they wield, but seemed to always have Paskyll’s best interests at heart. Have they truly allowed over eight humans to be sacrifice for no reason?”
He sighed. “It looks that way. I’m so sorry, Libby. This is my fault.”
“How?”
He rubbed his temples. “Storren maintained there must be another way to complete the ritual. He also often professed his mistrust of the council. I refused to listen. I should have recognized what happened on Flat Peak. Of course, they wouldn’t have gotten rid of such a powerful tool. I let my revulsion at the girl’s murder and my distaste for humans overrule my common sense.”
She raised her brows. “You have distaste for humans?”
He gave her a crooked smile. “Not quite. I like one human enough to break a two-thousand-year-old custom.”
“Are you sure about using the Rondure, instead of killing me?” She met his gaze. “What if it doesn’t work? I meant what I said. I won’t let anyone take my place—”
He took her lips in a brief, heated kiss, brushing his palm across her backside at the same time. Her body jolted in response, and she flashed a scandalized glance at Dax and the dwarves.
“It’ll work.” He found himself unable to hide his grin. “I’m certain it will. You don’t have to be afraid anymore.”
She beamed. “I can go home.”
His inner dragon snarled at the notion of her departure from his side, and he fought to keep his displeasure off his face. “Indeed. Although we need answers from the high sorcerer regarding your bloodline—”
“Of course. I’ll help you determine what befell Lord Mhaljett.”
He inclined his head. “Demons are a threat, too. Despite the rumor they’re not harming humans, as a supplicant under my protection, I cannot permit your return to Paskyll until I’m sure it’s safe.”
“I wish I knew what was happening.”
“Thassa will have some answers. And once my strength is restored, I can deal with whatever the demons throw at us.”
She nodded. “Then I can go home.”
“Lord, we should keep moving,” Dax called, waiting next to the fidgeting dwarves.
Libby headed over, emanating relief. Rhetahn followed, unable to stem his hurt at her keenness to leave him but deciding not to challenge her on it. Time was of the essence.
He lost track of it in the tunnels, like in the earlier ones. The torch-filled passages were endless and disorientating. They passed through more antechambers, some with hidden tunnel entrances revealed by secret levers, like the one in Taglemeiss. The concealed tunnels were ingenious. A stranger would never find their way to the hidden waterway. He made a mental note to request details of how the levers worked, when the demon situation was resolved.
After what felt like several hours, their guides stopped in front of a fissure on the wall. He leaned against the cool stone; his stab wound throbbing in time with his aching legs. Beside him, Libby gulped water from her flask. Even the dwarves were flagging. Dax seemed fine, recovered from his earlier grogginess. The swelling around his eye was reduced, too, although the purplish-blue bruise remained.
One dwarf spoke in the Jothesian common tongue. “You leave here. This will take you out of the mountain, near Pikeport outskirts.”
“A perfect location,” the ground shifter said. “You have our thanks.”
“I second those words,” Rhetahn said, as Dax squeezed into the cleft in the wall, the girl close behind. “On behalf of The Three and Jothesia, I thank you.”
The dwarves eyes shone with elation in the torchlight, and they bowed. Giving them one last nod, he crawled into the cavity after his companions. His head and shoulders touched immoveable stone and a musty scent filled his nostrils, amplified by the pitch blackness around him. This must be another outer tunnel, ultra-narrow to dissuade intruders.
He bit his tongue against a barrage of curses. Despite the time it saved, and the relative safety it provided, he was bloody tired of the underground world.
He shuffled on, trying to ignore his anxiety and sore muscles. Discerning Libby’s silhouette ahead, he quickened his pace, loath to fall behind in the darkness. Her curvy ass distracted him until the fissure widened and the air freshened. Climbing from the crevasse after his companions, he beheld the surroundings in relief. The tunnel opened into a mountainside cavity. Unlike the cozy cave they slept in after the demon attack, this was a shallow scrape, a hollow in the rock face providing limited shelter from the elements. Pebbles and animal droppings littered the ground beneath their feet. Not even the scent of dung could stem his thankfulness at the world beyond the jagged entrance. He poked his head outside, Libby and Dax copying him.
The night’s chill lingered as amber light touched the skyline. They were close to the steep hill’s summit. In the shadowy half-light, he spotted a narrow path winding down amongst rocky outcrops, with clumps of vegetation lining its route. Thick mist clung to the lowland beyond the trail. Other mountains loomed around them, their peaks shrouded in clouds. He could hear rapids thundering close by, the Yarkhelecht emerging from the subterranean land to become the River Steek.
He inhaled the alpine air with relief, then sniffed again. “Can anyone else smell that?”
“Smoke,” Libby said immediately. “I thought I imagined it at first. Where is it coming from?”
“Pikeport,” came an unfamiliar voice from above their heads.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Rhetahn grasped his sword hilt and Dax nocked an arrow in one smooth movement as a tall figure uncurled from a ledge above the cave entrance, dropping with effortless grace. Rhetahn’s tension didn’t lesson, but when the stranger came into view, Dax lowered his bow.
“Fen,” he exclaimed. “What are you doing here? We were heading your way.”
The stranger grinned. “I know, I’ve been expecting you. Maybe I couldn’t wait any longer, my friend. Nice shiner, by the way.”
Fen looked around the same age as the ground shifter, with dark blond hair and gray eyes. His lean body was encased in simple pants, boots, and a short-sleeved tunic. Leather sheaths held serrated throwing blades on his forearms, with several more attached to his belt. Fen scrutinized them in return, his attention lingering on Libby.
He bowed and the crisp aroma of reeds, sedge, and spring rain drifted across them. “Welcome to Pikeport, Lord Rhetahn. The outskirts, anyway.”
Rhetahn frowned at Dax. “A water shifter?”
The aquatic residents of the Shifterlands were known for their feckless and carefree natures, more than their dependability. There were exceptions, but as a rule, the water shifters were not a race to rely on.
“Lord, this is Fen,” the ground shifter said in a tired voice, “and I apologize in advance for his attitude and cheek. He is typical of his people.”
The newcomer chuckled. “A great compliment, my taciturn friend.” He waggled his brows at Libby. “You must be the naughty sacrifice I’ve heard about.”
“You have?” The girl stared. “How? Why were you expecting us? How did you know we would be here?”
“Questions, questions,” Rhetahn murmured, earning an abashed glare in response. He hid his automatic grin. She was so much fun to tease.
“You said the smoke is coming from Pikeport?” Dax gestured in the direction of the settlement with a frown. “What’s happened, Fen?”
“Harpies happened.” The water shifter’s silvery gaze drifted over Libby in a way that made Rhetahn grit his teeth. “They attacked the town last night and obliterated most of the boats.”
“The boats?” The ground shifter’s gaze cleared. “The surviving demon from the patrol must have reported you and Libby alive, Lord. They’ve realized you’re heading to see Thassa to complete the ritual and are destroying the fastest way to get to him.”
“That’s what everyone’s saying,” Fen said. “The cr
ones have attacked several towns and been abnormally chatty afterward. They’re telling everyone about Rhetahn’s murder of his youngest brother, theft of two amulets, and abduction of the sacrifice.”
Rhetahn froze. “They’re declaring I killed Storren?”
“They reckon you’ve succumbed to insanity and are no longer willing to share power with your brothers.” Fen shrugged. “According to them, you murdered Storren, attempted to do the same to Mhaljett and are seeking the high sorcerer to complete the ritual, killing everyone you meet along the way. There’s a reward for your capture, dead or alive. Plus, a separate one for the safe return of the amulets and the sacrifice here. We must be careful who we trust. Many will find the harpies convincing. Fortunately, I’d already been told the truth.”
“Who told you?” Libby furrowed her brows.
“Lieutenant Jahda.”
“Jahda?” Rhetahn questioned. “She risked flying all this way?”
“She did. The lieutenant landed like a vision in front of me yesterday morning, to deliver her message. It has been months since we last encountered each other. Such a touching reunion.”
Dax smirked. “Why do I find that difficult to believe?”
“For my part, anyway. She was a tad distracted.”
“What news of Trivium?” Rhetahn demanded. “What of my brothers? Has Jahda headed back already?”
Fen glanced out of the cave. “She is waiting for you at my hideaway, with information regarding your brother. She refused to divulge anything more until your arrival. Now, we should remove ourselves from this hillside. Most of the harpies flew off downriver. A few remained in Pikeport in case you appeared.”
“Your boat wasn’t destroyed?” Dax asked.
“Of course not. I moved her as soon as Jahda mentioned harpies.”
“And you’re willing to help us?” The ground shifter narrowed his eyes. “For free?”
Fen widened his gaze. “One of our venerable lords requests my assistance and I’m going to say no? Even though taking passengers downriver in such dangerous circumstances would usually result in a hefty fee—”
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