Azurene: Divine Seduction

by Adrianna Dane

  "But what if I'm not happy?" she couldn't help blurting out. Holding her tongue when she should had never been one of her positive qualities as her mothers often pointed out.

  She heard her father sigh. "Elita, this match is important for more reasons than one."

  She glanced up at her father and then back down. "Why, Father? I am happy here. I do not wish for a match."

  "You are twenty years old, daughter. Your season will pass quicker than you know. There will be no argument. I have made the pact with Raoul Duarte and you will obey. I know it is against your nature, but this time you will do as I say. Why do you fight your womanly nature so hard, Elita? Is it such a bad thing to offer obedience to a father? To a husband? Have you ever been ill-treated? I know you receive letters from your sisters. Do they say they are unhappy in their matches?"

  "No, Father," she responded quietly. She honestly didn't know where the wildness inside her stemmed from. If she did, she might be able to come to terms with the warring of her emotions. But she simply had been unable to find a balance, and inside she was a stormy land with no sense of peace to be found.

  "Then you must try. I have arranged for the dressers to outfit you with a generous wardrobe before your departure. Duarte has arranged for a teacher of Amak and you will take lessons within his borders under his protection.

  "Why can't I do that here?"

  "It is part of the agreement, Elita. It is a term he will not yield on. I have agreed."

  The teachings of Amak were such an intimate thing, or so she had been told by her sisters. She was to be uprooted from her family and dropped into a setting where she would be taught the lessons of love and sexuality from a stranger. It was almost more than she wanted to contemplate.

  Abruptly, she rose from her chair. "I'm going for a ride in the desert."

  "Is that wise, daughter? You leave within the week and there is much for you to do before then."

  She paced the lush carpeted floor of her father's chamber, she couldn't help herself--she needed activity. "This may be the last time I will have a chance to do so." She whirled around to face her father. "One last time. Please, Father?" She felt wound so tightly that she would shatter. She needed to work some of it off. Zane would no longer teach her the art of the sword. She had to get away--to breathe.

  Her father finally nodded. "All right. But don't go too far. And you will take a contingent of guards with you. Night is closing in and you shouldn't be out there alone."

  "But, Father--"

  He held up a hand. "No. If you do not take the guard, you do not leave the palace. Am I quite clear on that?"

  She exhaled in defeat. "Very well. I will take the guard."

  "Then you may go. But tomorrow morning, first thing, you will meet with the fitters and begin preparation for your journey. You will give your complete attention to your coming match."

  "Yes, Father." She bowed her head, crossing her arms over her breasts. "Your health and well-being, my lord."

  "And to you, Elita. You are dismissed."

  Chapter 3

  * * *

  The only sound in her ears was the thunder of the horses' hooves against the ground as she flew across the desert, her guard trailing behind her. She had to hurry if she was going to make it to the top of the Bondava Peak to watch the last brilliant flames of the setting sun before it disappeared completely from view.

  One last time before she was removed from this wild land completely. How she would miss it. She used to come here secretly with her brother as they searched for the hidden mines that had once yielded such treasures in minerals. Many were now blocked off as Kadin created more forbidden gateways to the surface.

  The pliancy of the earth in this region made it far too easy to create avenues of escape from the underworld, and it was the duty of her father to lock them tight, guarding, surveying the land for any possibility of escape by the hoards of darkness. His vigilance had remained successful over the years and for the time being the descending night was peacefully silent.

  It was said Kadin had bled the land dry of its resources and that's why there was little left to be discovered in this part of the desert. After the last battle with the Underlord, the underworld entrances through the known mines had been sealed. Young, fertile minds had Zane and Elita searching, eager to hear the stories of the battles between the underworld and the surface, to find proof that the wars had truly been waged within their desert borders. And won through the bravery and cunningness of their father.

  One last time she meant to experience the vista of her beloved desert. She wanted to see the vivid white night blooms of the askyan cactus. The luminescence of the vegan-alto trees that lit up the night. To never see this land again caused an ache in her heart.

  The nature of the desert borders mirrored the quiet solitude of her soul, the vista of freedom reflected in her heart. To look out over the wavering colors of the shifting sands that never offered the same image twice, always revealing some new, hidden horizon was a joy to behold. Wildness and freedom and forever flowed through her veins like the tiny grains of sand that beat and whirled, danced and flew across the ground--running as fast as they could. How much would she give to be a speck of sand, flying into the burning sky of a desert sunset. To be lost and forever free.

  She heaved a sigh of regret. Her sisters had survived and so, she guessed, would she. She wondered what the Northern Shore would be like. She knew from her studies that the air was cooler and unlike the deeply tanned, caramel skin of the desert dwellers, the water dwellers were blue-skinned, so very different from her own people.

  She pulled her horse to a halt at the base of the peak and jumped off, letting the reins trail to the ground. Her guards were not far behind as she raced upward, scrambling over the rock, grabbing for familiar handholds, hauling herself over the rocky terrain.

  No other woman of her tribe ever climbed the way she did. Her mothers were often saying she was more boy than girl. Especially when she was climbing down the balcony to reach the gardens rather than using the outside staircase that curved around the balcony and ended at the entrance to the secluded gardens where only the women were allowed.

  How daintily her sisters and mothers descended, their lush silken gowns trailing behind them. But she always beat them, ripped skirts trailing her. Her mothers had finally given up trying to tame her. She knew they thought her a lost cause. Zane had been the only one who could control her wildness and make her mind. It was the threat that he would end her lessons in swordplay and tactical maneuvers that made her bow to the demands of feminine lessons in needlepoint, singing, and even running the home. Little of it ever took well, but she had tried. She was much more interested in the philosophy of their forebears and the stories of battles fought and won, of rulers wise and foolhardy.

  Finally, she pulled herself over the ledge and reached the flat surface where she had stood many times before and felt a pang of regret as she stared at the flaming horizon one last time. To her, this was the most beautiful place on the planet, this moment so bittersweet as she drank in the taste, the smell, the vision. For a moment, until the guard reached her, she was alone in her world and all powerful. The world was at her feet and the strength running through her veins was greater than she would ever experience again. A feeling of complete control over her own destiny filled every corner of her soul.

  Her laughter spun out to the skies, hearing her triumphant voice echo back to her, feeling the power slide through her like a lover's hands gliding over her body. Not that she actually knew what a lover's hands felt like, but she could imagine.

  She stilled as something curious caught her eye. She squinted as she gazed across the landscape and saw a black cloud forming that seemed to be moving toward the peak. What could it be? It didn't look right to be a raging sandstorm. It was long and low to the ground and much too dark.

  One of the guards, out of breath from his climb, stepped up behind her.

  "Look in the distance. What do you
see?" she asked.

  He pulled out a spyglass from the case attached to his wide leather belt and looked in the direction she pointed.

  "Kadin's hell," he yelled. His dark complexion paled. "Lady, you have to leave now. It's the Underlord's minions. They've apparently opened a passage your father is unaware of. We thought they were all well guarded. Get to your horse and ride, we will try to hold them off for as long as possible."

  He was pushing her to descend. She now wished she had thought to bring her sword with her. Instead, she had only a small dagger.

  "I can't leave you here."

  "It's not us he wants; it's you. You have to get back to the palace and safety. Kadin has to know that if he takes you by force he's asking for war."

  They reached the bottom more quickly than she had ever done before, and he hoisted her onto her horse.

  "Go. And don't look back, just keep going. When it looks to be safe, circle back and get to safety. One of my men will go with you, but I will need the others. Be safe, my lady."

  He swatted her horse's behind. Leaning close to his neck, she was off, racing across the desert in the opposite direction of the horde closing in on them.

  She hadn't believed Zane when he told her Kadin wanted her for himself. She leaned close over her horse's neck as they galloped into the darkening desert. She could be the catalyst for war and she couldn't allow that to happen. Peace had been hard won and kept for decades. Each time Kadin had attempted to rise up, he had been forced back. But if he captured Elita, her father would never rest until he had finally destroyed Kadin once and for all. She would not allow herself to be used as a pawn for war.

  Her horse was tiring, but she couldn't slow down. Her hearing caught the thunder of horses hooves beating against the ground. She dared a glance over her shoulder and her heart beat harder against her chest when she saw the black steeds barreling down on her. She was never going to be able to outrun them.

  She heard a cry from beside her and saw the black arrow protruding from her guard's chest just before his horse faltered and the man tumbled to the ground.

  She felt the evil heat of the underworld guard surround her. Pain shafted through her as she was yanked from her horse by her long braid.

  "No," she screamed. This could not be happening. She yanked the dagger from its scabbard and thrust upward. The skeletal guard's crimson eyes glared down at her as the blade dug through what passed for a neck, but was little more than illusive flesh.

  He let go of the reins on his devil mount. She pulled back on the dagger and thrust again, just as his bony fist smashed into her jaw.

  The pain vibrated through her and she tried to hold onto consciousness, as he hit her again and she knew no more.

  Chapter 4

  * * *

  Elita surfaced slowly, and painfully, from unconsciousness. She tried to move her hands and feet, but found herself bound tightly to the point where it was an effort even to breath. She was gagged, and as she became more lucid she realized her hands were bound above her head and her legs were splayed, her ankles shackled tightly to the ground. From what she could see, they were still in the desert and the tree she was bound to was one of the luminescent vegan-alto trees.

  She could smell smoky curls of burning wood. She was faced away from the source of the scent. Her vision was blocked as a specter appeared in front of her. From the dark blood still seeping from the wound on his neck, Elita had to assume it was the one who had pulled her from her own mount. His crimson eyes glimmered like banked coals in the night. But what terrified her more was the short branding iron fisted in his black-gloved hand.

  Frantically she attempted to break free of the chains that bound her spread-eagle to the tree.

  "I think my lord Kadin has no idea what a little wildcat he seeks for his bride. Small but ferocious."

  Her throat burned with impotent screams as she called upon every vile name she could think of in her limited vocabulary of such words. It was unfortunate that it was a futile act as she was bound tightly and unable to utter more than a muffling hint of sound.

  He reached up and touched his neck where her dagger has sunk into his putrified flesh. He should have been dead, but she knew from the stories of the underworld that it was often the undead who served the Dark Underlord. Their continued existence was at his bidding.

  "You will pay for this, wildcat. You will suffer." She saw the glowing orange ember of the branding iron and inwardly shuddered to consider what he planned to do with it. "Your time on the surface is coming quickly to an end. Our lord awaits your arrival. But before we travel further, you will be marked as his possession. Once that is accomplished, no one would dare try to steal you from him and incur his wrath. The laws of the planet will be obliged to recognize his mark of ownership, property acquired through right of conquest. Your father should have been more vigilant of his possession."

  Hellions below, if he came near her she would tear his eyes out. How could she have been so thoughtless as to ride into the desert. Had she thought she was untouchable by death and pain? Had she thought the stories of Kadin's evil were just myths?

  She struggled against the bonds that held her. This could not be happening.

  Slowly the wraith stepped toward her until he was close enough for her to smell his putrid flesh and feel the heat of the branding iron. The glow of the iron showed one word with an arrow pointing downward slashed through it--Kadin.

  This bastardi standing before her planned to mark her flesh with that searing symbol of underworld ownership. She understood in an instant as clear as noon day that Kadin didn't want her as his bride. The evil underlord wanted her as his slave! A thing of ownership to be paraded before the upper world as proof of his superior ability. And with that revelation, she knew it would assuredly mean a bloody war between the surface and the underworld.

  She saw the darkling nod and her body shifted as someone behind her began to tear at her clothing. In moments every piece of material was ripped away, exposing her to the night and to these devil's minions.

  He removed a glove, letting it drop to the ground, and she shuddered when he reached out to stroke a clawed hand over her breast. The touch was hard and cold as death.

  "I'm going to take my time with you, pretty. You will grovel at my feet before we leave this place. You will beg for mercy. Our lord will see how well his new possession can be tamed for his pleasure." He touched her chest, just above the full swell of her breasts, a spot that would be front and center visible for all to see. "Right here," he said as he pressed the palm of his cold hand flat against her skin. There would be no way to hide such a horrible mark that would be seared into her skin forever.

  Elita had never been so frightened in her life. But it wasn't death that she feared, so much as living. A quick death in battle she understood. But looking at this creature standing before her, the smile on his face a parody of pleasure, she knew she would have an eternity in hell to regret her impetuous actions.

  She had played on her father's love and guilt in arranging a match she did not want, to get him to allow her to ride one last time in the desert. His guilt and her desire for freedom had overridden caution. And she would forever suffer for that act.

  "You might as well relax, pretty, because there's nothing you can do. Your pitiful guards all dead, no one to alarm your weak father to your disappearance until long after we have reached the labyrinth. And once inside, no one would dare to enter. Count your moments of freedom, for they are fast dripping away."

  She knew very well about the labyrinth to the cavernous kingdom. There was only one way to navigate it and that was through the benevolence of its underlord. To meld body and soul with the darkness, accept him as master.

  She was to be used as a pawn, as a taunt to her father like a yellow banner to a ferocious minnocat. Her father could die because of her thoughtlessness.

  She felt the tears threaten, but she refused to let this creature see her fear. She swallowed them down, forced the r
age to burn inside her. It was the only way she could fight the pain she knew she was about to experience when that brand iron touched her flesh, searing and burning its way toward her soul.

  The creature lifted the hand holding the iron, and she closed her eyes, then flashed them open again as screams rent the air. All around her were flashes of blue light swirling and arcing. The creature dropped the iron and turned to engage in the battle.

  A tall man dressed in silver battle garb ran toward her, the thick blue plume on his helmet and the azure silk material emblazoned with an emblem she couldn't quite make out marked him as the leader. He raised the sapphire blade of his sword and brought it down across the chains that imprisoned her legs. Sparks flew, his actions a blur.

  He curled a strong arm around her waist as he chopped at the chains imprisoning her hands, and he steadied her as she dropped into his arms.

  He slashed at the underworld wraiths as they made their way through the battle. As his blade ran through them, Elita was shocked to see them dissolve into black dust at his feet.

  She wanted to yell, "Give me a sword, I can fight," except she was still gagged and he had her imprisoned so tightly in his strong, muscled arm she couldn't reach up to remove it without causing him to lose concentration. And she knew, as most women in this kingdom did not, that loss of concentration for even a second, could mean death.

  The battle was over quickly and then the warrior picked her up and strode into the darkness beyond the scene of battle. She saw a pale shadow in the distance. As they drew closer she recognized the lines of a gigantic white battle steed. The warrior pulled a blue velvet cloak from the saddle and wrapped her in it. Then he removed the gag.