Winds of Chaos (Tainted Blood Book 3)

by Jeff Gunzel

  Xavier stumbled drunkenly through the streets. The dark sky flashed, followed by a low, rolling rumble. Seconds later the rain came, heavy drops that sent people scattering into shops for cover. Rain peppering his face, he tripped repeatedly while trying to make his way through the downpour. Seeking relief from the sky’s onslaught, he staggered around a corner and into an alley. He was still getting wet, but here at least he was somewhat sheltered from the driving winds. It had gotten bad in a hurry.

  Wiping rainwater from his eyes, he suddenly realized where he was. Whether by chance or by some unexplained pull from the back of his mind, he had stumbled right into the alley where he had last seen Viola as a free woman. Goodbye, Xavier... He could still hear her fitting last words to him. It really had been goodbye.

  Xavier reached out, his hand swiping at her ghostly image as he tried to grab her, tried to hold her memory before she leaped from his life. If he had just been faster... If he had just recognized the pain in her eyes... If only he had known what she was thinking, he could have stopped her before—

  He glanced down at the poster in his hand, then crumpled it in a fist. Raising his fist to his forehead, he began to weep. I failed you. I’m so, so sorry. His sobs intensified as all the pain he kept bottled up inside came rushing out in a flood of unbearable sadness. Even the steady flow of liquor could no longer subdue his agony. Sobs turned into wailing as he released his torment the only way he could. Drink could no longer contain these demons. He had to face them head on, or be consumed by them.

  Back against the stone wall, he slid down until he was seated in the mud. Rain came down hard, pelting his head and shoulders. He blew out a deep breath, finding some level of composure at last now that the breakdown had played itself out. Xavier looked to the sky, the large droplets of rain coming straight at him, giving the illusion that he was falling up into the clouds. A part of him wished he would.

  “I failed you,” he said out loud. “And since that day I have been lost without you. I cannot go back in time, and I cannot change what has happened. But I’m done feeling sorry for myself. I failed you once, and it will not happen again.”

  * * *

  Back at the inn, the others were spread around the room busying themselves with various tasks. Thatra and Assirra sat in the corner, comparing one set of notes to the next. Information gathered by Liam did not always match up with what Owen had uncovered. Their job was to find the similarities and jot those down as being most probable.

  Although Jarlen had spent considerable time in the pit, he had always been contained to the same small chamber. Having seen little, he couldn’t be of much use here.

  Liam and Owen stood in the far corner eyeing several maps of what the pit’s corridors might indeed look like. Some of these crude maps were drawn by drunken soldiers, eager to please Liam so they could get back to drinking. Others were drawn by Owen himself as a bloodied thug spilled his guts about what he might or might not remember about his time there. Just to make sure neither set of notes was influencing the other, they kept Owen’s pile separate.

  Using the ones pinned up in front of him, Liam drew a quick map with limited detail. These various sources of information needed to match if they had any chance of storming the pit and breaking Viola out. When seconds counted, they needed to know where each corridor was, and where the guards were usually stationed. The map needed to be as accurate as possible if they were going to have any chance. Liam held up his crude drawing and eyed Owen, hopeful. Looking down at his own maps, Owen frowned and shook his head. They weren’t even close to a match.

  Liam crumpled his map with a grunt. “How many different versions of the same place can there possibly be?” he asked, exasperated. He threw the crumpled paper across the room. “We’re running of time! If we can’t make sense of this soon—”

  The door flung open and in walked Xavier. Drenched from head to toe, he was pale as a ghost and had the look of death about him. “Where have you been?” Owen asked, already sure he knew the answer. Where could he be found every evening these days?

  “You’re drenched,” Thatra said, rushing up to him with a blanket in hand. “You must get out of those wet clothes and into something dry. Xavier?” He just stood there, his expressionless pale face difficult to read. “Xavier, is everything all right?”

  Ignoring her while looking at Liam, he held up the poster. It was plenty wet and the ink had smeared, but Viola’s image was obvious enough. The day they had long feared had finally come. She was going to fight in the pit. They were too late. Liam stared at it long and hard. His mind spun with denial, twisting and turning with every conceivable reason why this couldn’t possibly be true. But his denial was short-lived. This was really happening.

  He spun about, an angry fist ripping through a line of hung maps. Xavier dropped the poster, Viola’s red eyes staring up as if trapped inside a dark mirror. No one spoke. The silence hung like fog as they reflected on the fate of their friend.

  Once again they had failed her.

  * * *

  “Have I told you how beautiful you look today?” Rishima asked, sneaking up from behind to wrap her arms around Bella’s waist. “Well, have I?” she purred, kissing her way down the side of Bella’s neck.

  “At least a hundred times,” Bella giggled, leaning away from her probing lips.

  “Then I think it’s only fair to warn you,” Rishima said, pressing hard against her back, her hands moving up to cup Bella’s breasts. “I think you might be in for another hundred or so.” Bella stood up straight, moaning softly as the grip on her chest tightened. “Maybe two hundred,” Rishima whispered in her ear.

  Suddenly, a woman rushed into the room, startling them both. Bella jumped, then began fidgeting with fabric around the neckline of her gown, one breast already fully exposed. But Rishima stayed her hand, shaking her head. “As you were, my love,” she said. Reluctantly, Bella lowered her hand, leaving herself exposed. But she understood. A leader should never show any level of discomfort or uncertainty around those she ruled, no matter the circumstances. It came across as weak.

  “What is the meaning of this intrusion?” Rishima asked the woman. Her hair was in disarray and her hanging clothing was less than modest, but she stood tall with the air of a queen. She needn’t explain her actions to anyone...ever.

  “Moon Mistress… Er, I—” The woman eyed Bella uncertainly, then looked back at Rishima.

  “Queen Bella’s authority is not in question!” Rishima said, irritated. “Anything you have to say to me, you can and will say in front of her. Now, unless you’re wasting our time for no reason—”

  “It’s about the girl!” she blurted, too desperate to waste any more time deciding what she could or couldn’t say in front of the human.

  “Viola?” Rishima asked, her voice suddenly calm.

  “Yes,” the woman confirmed. “We have received word that she is in danger. I’ll explain, but we must leave for Shadowfen, now! I’m sure I don’t have to remind you how important she is.”

  “No, you do not,” Rishima admitted, taking deep breaths. She paused, then glanced at Bella with a worried look. The messenger stood near the entrance awaiting further instruction. “Assemble the guard,” Rishima ordered.

  “How many, Mistress?”

  “All of them,” Rishima said, slashing her hand in the air. “We leave within the hour!”

  “Mistress,” the woman acknowledged with a quick nod, then turned and left to go carry out the order.

  Once the woman was out of sight, Rishima seemed to deflate. This was the last thing she needed to hear. After pacing back and forth several times to clear her thoughts, she turned to Bella. “You will stay here in the tower while we handle this. I’m not yet sure of the danger we face, but at least this way I’ll know you’re safe.”

  “And to what end?” Bella asked. Rishima looked at her, confused. “You saw how she behaved around me. Not one of your subjects takes me seriously.”

  “Our subject
s,” Rishima corrected. “And I promise you that they will eventually. It’s just going to take some time.”

  “And that’s my point. They don’t take me seriously because I haven’t done anything for them. I can’t fault them for that. Who is this human that shows up at the tower’s doorstep and suddenly commands authority for no reason at all?”

  “You are their queen!”

  “Their queen in title only,” Bella said softly. “My former title carries no weight with them, nor should it. I have done nothing in their eyes. You repeatedly say I am your equal, yet you’re quick to wrap me in blankets and hide me in a closet when there is trouble, as if I were made of glass. Am I your equal, or just your lover?”

  Rishima stepped towards her in a rush, pulling Bella into a warm embrace. “You are both,” she whispered, lightly kissing her cheek.

  “Then don’t ask me to stay behind as you race off to face this danger alone,” Bella whispered back. “I swore an oath to you, to the tower, and I intend to fulfill that oath. Let your people see me stand by your side, and even fall if need be.” Rishima stepped back to face her directly, still gripping her by the shoulders. She didn’t like the sound of that one bit.

  “Yes, that is what my oath means to me,” Bella continued. “They will not follow me otherwise. The proud spiritists are your people today. I hope by the time we return, they will be my people as well. But until I have proven myself in their eyes, I expect nothing from them.”

  Rishima sighed sharply but nodded. “Very well then. I understand your position and I respect your judgment. It’s just that the thought of losing you—” Unable to finish her sentence, she bowed her head and bit her top finger on a closed fist. She shook the fearful thought away and continued, “No matter what danger we face this day, you must stay with me at all times. Promise me that much.”

  “Of course I will. I know how to survive, if nothing else.”

  “Very well. I say again we leave within the hour. Prepare yourself and I shall do the same.” Rishima spun away and left the room.

  Bella smiled at her back as she watched her lover go. She knew that must have been hard for her. Love did strange things to a person, sometimes causing them to be overprotective to the point of absurdity. But staying behind was not an option, either. If she was to rule with Rishima, then she would fight with her as well. The spiritists needed to trust her, and that trust had to be earned.

  Bella made her way to the basin just down the hall. She looked in the uneven mirror, her reflection warped and distorted. After splashing her face, she dipped her fingers in a small jar of blue paste set on the edge of the basin. “I am the queen,” she said, making three blue lines across her right cheek. “And even though you humiliated me, and even tried to have me killed, my resiliency has made you the fool.” She streaked three blue lines across her opposite cheek. “You’ve failed, Milo. You should have finished me off when you had the chance. Each breath I draw is a gift, and I shall not waste that gift again. I know you think you fear nothing, but that will change soon enough. Mark my words.”

  She glanced back up at her warped reflection and smiled a chilling, determined grin. “You should have killed me.”

  Feeling empowered, she turned away from the basin and headed back down the hall. The time had come. As she walked, she visualized herself moving through Shadowfen’s keep as she had done so many times before. Pictures of kings and queens, the leaders of years past, had stared back at her in judgment. How could she ever live up to their expectations? But the idea seemed so absurd to her now. Who were they to judge her? They were but a product of their society, puppets in motion providing the illusion of leadership while others pulled the strings. It was all but an act. This she now knew all too well. Real leaders cared about their subjects. That was the kind of leader she wanted to be.

  She worked her way up the stone steps, the stairway lined with spiritists standing guard. Each acknowledged her as she passed, a hand rising to their heart as they bowed their heads. A blast of cold air blew her hair as one opened the door for her at the top of the steps. She stepped out to see mounted ravens in rows, each carrying a single rider. There were hundreds of them, maybe more. Lightning flashed constantly in the distance, illuminating snow-peaked mountains miles away. She spotted Rishima at the head of the formation, mounted on her black raven, and marched over to her.

  “Are you certain about this?” Rishima asked one last time, unable to hide her look of concern.

  In response, Bella leaped up behind her in a single jump. She wrapped her arms around Rishima and kissed the back of her ear. “I’ve never been more ready in my life. What are we waiting for?”

  Rishima smiled and looked off into the distance. “We ride through the night!” she called out to the sound of cheers. Screeches filled the air as the ravens took flight. Hundreds of them launching, they looked like a colony of bats fleeing a cave. Humans looked up from the town streets below, jaws gaping open at the spiritists taking flight. The sky fluttered with giant birds; practically their entire force was leaving at once. What was going on to require such a force? The townsfolk knew something big was going on.

  * * *

  Ghostly white forms stood shoulder to shoulder at the volcano’s entrance. Longing to leave their fiery prison once and for all, the ghatins shifted and swayed against each other. The occasional black slit formed against a pasty white canvas, revealing wide, toothless grins. Bright pink eyes stood out against featureless faces, scanning about eagerly as the excitement began to build. They had her now. They knew the girl’s location and nothing was going to stop them from capturing her. The ritual had to be completed.

  Too long had they known a world of fire and ash. Too long had they been held captive by this ancient curse. And now after waiting for centuries on end, their freedom was so tantalizingly close they could almost touch it.

  Dark-red hydrogriphs stood perfectly still as bags were fastened around their bodies. Obedient, spellbound, they served as nothing more than tools in the ghatins’ plans. With a series of harrowing screeches that echoed down the chasm, leathery wings beat the air as the great beasts took flight. Soaring from the mouth of the cavern, light sprinkles of ash floated down behind them.

  With a savage roar, the first ghatin melted down into the dusty trail. Its body now existing between two dimensions at once, the white lump sped away into the night. Others followed, melting into the ground and dashing off through the invisibly sealed entrance. Like an army of white stones blazing across the sand, they cut through the desert in search of the chosen one whose final breath would release them once and for all.

  The chosen one needed to die. Viola needed to die...

  Chapter 13

  Clink... Clink... Clink...

  Awakening, Nald blinked while rubbing the sleep from his eyes. Clink... Clink... The sound coming from the hall seemed to be moving away at a slow pace. Rolling off his bed, he tiptoed over to the doorway and peeked out from his room. There he saw Viola moving down the hallway, tin cup in hand. With each step she tapped it lightly against the stone wall. Clink... Clink... Before he could speak, he noticed Kalmton peek out from his room on the other side of the hall, no doubt woken the same way he was. They glanced at each other with a shrug and began to follow.

  At the end of the hall, Viola stepped through the doorway and entered her own room. “Viola?” said Nald, peeking his head through her doorway. Salina was there as well, sitting on her bed with her back wedged into the far corner.

  “What was all that about?” Kalmton peeked up over Nald’s shoulder.

  “Come in here, both of you,” Salina said, a tightness in her tone.

  “Why did you wake us up?” Kalmton asked. “Have you gone crazy? We need to sleep, and you do too. You know what tomorrow is.” Indeed they did. No reminder was necessary.

  “Tell them,” Salina said, glancing towards Viola as her face darkened, her expression grave and deadly serious. “Tell them what you told me.”

  �
�Tell us what?” Nald asked, taking a seat on the corner of the bed.

  “At first, I wasn’t really sure how to handle this,” Viola admitted. “But as the appointed leader of our group, I will not stand by and do nothing. I’ve done that for too long already.” She paused, wanting to choose her next words carefully. “The king and I shared words before I took Umoro’s life.” Instead of careful, she chose to be blunt and forthright. They were running out of time and she could no longer drag her feet regarding this uncomfortable subject. “He outlined my future role here in the pit, and outlined yours as well. In doing so, he assured me that none of you have a role. Not a permanent one anyway.”

  “What is that supposed to mean?” Kalmton asked.

  “It means that the three of you are nothing more than sheep being led to slaughter,” Viola answered. “And any other humans sent to the pit from this day forward will meet the same fate. Your deaths are guaranteed because it benefits the king. My survival is guaranteed for the exact same reason. You are my human shields and have been since the first day we arrived. People come from everywhere to watch blood being spilled. Humans are cheap and plentiful, whereas I am unique. From the king’s point of view, the decision was an easy one.”

  The room went silent as the reality of her words sank in. The more they thought about it, the more obvious it became. If Viola was the main draw, why did they put them all together? It was just as Viola said. They were human shields sentenced to protect her, all the while giving the illusion that they might actually win if they fought hard enough. Of course, they just might survive the next challenge, or even the one after that. But there was no end in sight. They would fall eventually. And that was when new humans would be brought in and trained. Then they too would eventually meet the same fate. The gory cycle would repeat forever.

  “Why would you even tell us this?” Kalmton asked after a time, his voice so soft they could barely hear him. “What good can possibly come from telling us that it’s all been for nothing? Why warn us of our impending deaths when there is nothing we can do to stop it? How can you be so cruel?”