by E. V. Greig
Hugo wiped the gore from his weapon and sheathed it once more. Glancing briefly towards the boy to ensure his location, he then turned and hurried over to the second person. A young woman: small and slight with angular features, light brown skin and long dark hair. She wore a simple robe woven from pale blue silk and plain leather sandals.
For a moment, he feared that she was dead. Then her lips parted slightly and she stirred. Her eyes opened, revealing twin pools of midnight blue in which eerie silver pupils gleamed. “Thank Gorun - I’d feared that I’d arrived too late to save you!”
She stared up at him as though transfixed. When at last she spoke, it was not in any tongue that he recognised. Hugo sighed deeply to himself. This was going to be complicated! Still, he had always had a talent when it came to learning a new tongue. He bent and scooped the trembling woman up in his arms. After all, there was still the wyrm – not to mention the creature that he had just fought. “I’d best take you both back to the keep.”
She struggled with him; clearly terrified. “Uleno!” She stared past him at the dead horse. “Uleno!”
Hugo frowned. “Uleno – does that mean horse?”
The boy barrelled into him then, arms and legs flailing. “Let her go!”
Hugo recognised the ancient language instantly and grabbed the youngster by the arm, dropping the woman onto the ground as he did so. They both shrieked in protest at such rough handling. “Be still!” This time Hugo spoke in Anthiri. It had the desired effect – she fell silent immediately, as did the boy: whose delicately pointed ears were visible upon closer inspection. “So – a tongue we all understand, eh? Well, that is useful. Now see here, I mean you no harm. My name is Hugo Khuff. I am newly arrived in this land and I saw a wyrm diving to attack at the far end of this valley. I came to lend my aid. Tell me – who are you and what was that creature which was attacking you?”
The boy burst into tears at that. “It – it was a nhynquara! It used to be my mother!” He slumped then and leaned against Hugo for comfort.
Hugo shook his head sadly and patted the youngster gently on the shoulder. “I am sorry for your loss, lad. What of you then, lass?”
“I am Kaiwan, and this is Althanor. We saw no wyrm, sir – only a strange wind that ran the length of the Vale. Our other friends are still out there upon the farthest ridgeline. If what you say is correct, then we must find them. They may be hurt.”
“More likely they are dead! I can’t hope to protect you both and deal with a wyrm. Besides, that nhynquara may yet return. It’s better that I get you both to a place of safety first, and then return to seek your friends.”
“I can protect myself, sir!” Kaiwan retorted sharply.
“The lad is near hysterical – he needs rest! You’re coming with me whether you will it or not, for I am responsible for your safety now. You’ve the look of a grown woman to you: I suggest you act it! I’m in no mood for to have to baby you!” Hugo sprang back aboard his horse and set Althanor before him. The mercenary held his reins in one hand, leaving the other arm free to assist Kaiwan, who reluctantly climbed up behind him. “We’ll make haste back to the keep.”
“What keep?” Kaiwan was perplexed.
He smiled. “You’ll see soon enough! Best hold on tight, Kaiwan. This horse is swift.”
They rode in silence for a time save for Althanor’s quiet whimpering. The young woman was true to her word: she made no attempt at escape. Hugo had mixed feelings regarding that. A human maiden, who speaks Anthiri as though she were one of the fey herself? A mortal never wove the silk of her robe. That much is obvious. What’s occurring here?
Kaiwan huddled closer to her fierce rescuer. He smelt sour, and yet somehow intriguing. His ragged garments were coarse and crudely cut, covered in filth. His bootless feet were hairy, as indeed was the rest of him, and Kaiwan could feel the bands of muscle that spanned his lean torso. Clearly, he was strong – far stronger than Ruiryk; who until now had been the only male human that Kaiwan had ever met.
She wondered if her friends had survived the wyrm’s attack. If they had, then surely they would have come rushing to lend their aid against the nhynquara. For it was impossible to believe that Althanor’s terrified cries would have gone unheard by the other anthir in the Vale. It appeared likely that she would never see any of them again. That meant that she had no legal guardian now, unless Hugo chose to keep her as part of his household.
He had spoken of being responsible for both of them now - would he therefore adopt Althanor as Slo’annathorys had once adopted Ruiryk? And what will be my fate? He told me to act my age – what will he expect me to do? He has full authority over us now. I hope that he is not cruel. He seems to be honourable enough thus far.
Hugo glanced briefly to his right, alerted by a faint rustling sound amidst the underbrush. “By Saint Gorun, is that a rabbit?”
Scrabbling along, low to the ground with its head lolling to one side and a greyish cloud to its eyes, came what had indeed been a rabbit. It bore no obvious signs of sickness or injury – yet it did not breathe. Its small jaws opened and closed on empty air, the teeth clicking and scraping against one another.
Kaiwan clung tighter yet to Hugo. “We must flee from here immediately – the taint which birthed the nhynquara has begun to spread! It is infecting other creatures within the Vale!”
“Damnation! The rescue party – I must warn them!” Hugo drummed his heels against the black horse’s flanks and the animal doubled its gait – stretching out its strong neck as it raced back up the trail towards the keep.
They met the unit of guardsmen less than a quarter of a mile from entering the Vale. One of them waved to Hugo. “Ho, Goodman! What awaits us?”
“There is nothing but death and the dead who will not rest.” Hugo shook his head grimly. “These two are all that I found living – there may be others on the far side of the valley near the cedar trees but I doubt it. That was where the wyrm struck. The rest of the place is thick with necromancy and hag-spawn.”
The guardsman sighed at that. “Lady Naomi won’t be pleased to hear that there are restless dead roaming so very close to Briersburge. Doubtless she’ll have us out to deal with them soon enough but we’re not equipped for such matters now. All of you – form up around Master Khuff! We return to the keep post haste!”
Chapter Six
Lonrari gasped as the roots unfurled, vomiting her forth onto a cold stone floor. Struggling to catch her breath, she rolled away from the rapidly closing chasm and crawled onto a brightly patterned carpet with gold fringing. A shadow fell across her. Looking up, the dryanth saw a tall, massively built male sylvanth clad in black enamelled armour. His hair was long and sleek – perfectly groomed, it hung in a jet-black curtain to his waist. His eyes were merciless black pools against the bone white of his skin, and an elaborate silver headband glinted on his brow.
“You are getting dirt on my carpets, little priestess.” He gazed down at her as if staring at a troublesome and messy pet. “And you have failed me!”
He seized hold of the stunned and choking dryanth with both hands and slammed her against a pillar. The marble cracked under the force of the impact, and the sylvanth flung Lonrari from him in disgust. “I gave you but one simple task and you failed me! All you had to do was protect the Ca’Ryln – and you dare to fail! I should kill you!”
He paced across the throne room and lifted Lonrari by the hair with one hand. “But no - I sense that despite your incompetence she yet lives and so I shall spare your worthless life. Still – what to do with you? I do not want you for myself and I refuse to let you go back to your kin; after all, you would surely tell them of my secret! That, my dear, can never be permitted. If ever the dryanthir were to know that I have supplanted Haph and taken Her powers for myself, then there would be chaos!”
He cupped Lonrari’s chin in his free hand and studied her face. “Yes, you will soon find a master at the very least within Sylvangarde, if not a husband.”
Once
again, he flung Lonrari aside – this time to a pair of nearby guards. She tried to speak but her voice choked on the soil that she had inadvertently swallowed. This cannot be happening to me…he must be lying! He must be!
“Take her away and see to it that she finds a home. It need not be a good one. Keep whatever is paid for her and split it between yourselves. You are dismissed.” With that, the tall sylvanth waved vaguely at the guards and sank back onto his throne. “Send in Lady Agieta – I would have her perform for me.”
“Yes, my Lord.” The two guards lifted Lonrari bodily and carried her from the chamber. One of them nodded to a gaudily dressed group of dancers and musicians. “The king will see your mistress now.”
Lonrari squirmed and snapped at the nearest guard. He sneered and cuffed her across the face. “Feisty, is she not? I know just the way to break her of such habits!” He knotted his fingers in her hair and tilted her head back.
“We do not have time for that. The king ordered us to sell her.” The second guard allowed himself a brief glance at the dryanth. “Still, someone is in for quite the time taming her.”
“Would that it was me!” The first guard gave a sigh. “Perhaps…”
“Forget it.” His companion remained adamant, much to Lonrari’s relief and chagrin. “Not after the trouble you got us both into the last time.”
Lonrari decided that she never wanted to know about the last time. She had to escape before it was too late, that much was obvious. The only question was how – and where could she hope to flee?
∞∞∞
Ruiryk opened his eyes. His head ached and the cloying aftertaste of the wine still numbed his throat. He turned and ran back towards where he had last seen Kaiwan and Althanor. He had to be certain that they were safe! Heart pounding, he sprinted along the trail. As he turned the bend that led to the cabin, he saw what was left of Uleno. “Gods have pity on us!”
“Ruiryk – get tha’ useless arse over here!” Banor’s voice was an unexpectedly welcome anchor in this sea of madness. “Have tha’ seen anybody else?”
“Banor, Luath!” Ruiryk raced to his friends and half-dragged Luath to his feet. “Thank Moorgi you two are alive! There are sylvanthi raiders in the vale, up at the cedars! And there was a wyrm – Banor, a female silver wyrm! Where’s Slo’annathorys? And Kaiwan – Kaiwan and Althanor were here! Have you seen them?”
“No, but I saw those anthir. Bastards knocked me out. Knocked tha’ out too, but I woke sooner. I came looking for the rest of them when I couldn't rouse tha’.”
“Banor – where is Slo’annathorys?”
“He’s gone.” Banor blinked fiercely. “Wyrm took him - I thought it was just a storm! Where’s Corinne?”
“I don't know - wasn't she at the cabin?”
“No sign of her when I got there.” Banor hefted his axe. “Bring Luath, lad. We need to get tracking!”
“What about Lonrari – where is she anyway?”
Luath whimpered. “She was taken away by Haph: taken into the earth!”
“That’s all he’s been saying since I found him here. But look – I found tracks, shod hooves and footprints. Some of them belong to Kaiwan and the lad. The others now, them I don’t recognize. But I can follow them!” Banor pointed. “They go this way.”
“Then let’s go.”
“Waiting on tha’ lad. Waiting on tha’.”
∞∞∞
The labyrinthine streets of Sylvangarde were alive: their layout shifting and flowing according to the whims of the king. Usually this was merely a minor inconvenience, but tonight the streets were in a truly capricious mood, and in front of Korius Darkemoon was suddenly a scene normally found only within the boundaries of the slave markets. Ten male sylvanthir – two of them palace guards and the others nobles – were standing in a small cluster around what looked like a dryanth; a rare sight indeed.
In a fit of pique, due in no small part to the fact that the abrupt change of the city’s geography had interrupted his journey home, Korius pushed past the other males and lifted the slave by the scruff of her neck. “Enough! As head of the Ves’Nerynthi collegiate, I am claiming this esthanth for myself! Consider your worthless lives payment – I could kill you all for causing me such an inconvenience!”
The nobles blanched and fled, as he had expected them to. He had a fearsome reputation, only some of which was undeserved. It was unwise to cross someone in his profession. The two guards froze on the spot. “Lord Darkemoon – we did not mean to cause you an inconvenience!”
Korius merely sniffed the slave’s beautiful golden hair. “Hmm? Oh – are you two still here? Go away; I want to be alone with my prize.”
“Yes, my Lord.” The guards melted away.
The slave was much smaller than he: her face was level with his chest. She had long limbs and a catlike quality that he appreciated in a female. Her hair was exceptionally long and hung almost to her calves. Korius appreciated that too. Fair hair was a rarity in Sylvangarde. He began to run his free hand over her face. Then he remembered why it was that he had been in such a hurry to get home. Anthalia – she was waiting for him to arrive so that she could serve the evening meal. “Damn! Well, no matter. We can get to know one another later, you and I.”
She locked her fingers around his throat and squeezed, her vivid green eyes blazing with defiance. “Never!”
Korius did not attempt to loosen her hold. Instead he smiled wickedly and slipped both of his hands underneath her tunic. As he had suspected she would, the dryanth let go of his throat in favour of preserving her modesty. Whilst she was thus distracted, Korius pushed forward and slammed her into a wall, pinning her with the weight of his body. “I am your master now, and we shall do as I wish, esthanth.”
“No!” It was half snarl and half sob. “I would sooner die!”
He cradled her face in his hands, gazing into her eyes as she scrabbled, and kicked and screamed. “No one is coming to save you,” he informed her coldly. “No one listens to screams here anymore. Now, calm down; I am not going to use you in a public street!”
“You are never going to use me at all!”
Korius threw back his head and laughed uproariously at that. “Wildheart – that is what I shall call you! We shall see, Wildheart, we shall see. Given time, you may come to like me. Or I may simply break you.”
“My name is Lonrari Silverferne! Now take your misbegotten hands off me or suffer the consequences!”
“Lonrari - I like that name: it rolls off the tongue rather well. I am Korius Darkemoon – that is your kin name too now. You are a part of my household. Trust me when I tell you that you could belong to far worse.” He caught her by the wrists and crushed her hands in his until she yelped and ceased her struggling. “That is better – no more struggling. Not here at least. Later - well, we shall simply have to wait and see.”
Lonrari stared up at her captor in mute fury and trepidation. He was stronger than she and, for now at least, he had the advantage over her. The dryanth decided to bide her time. He has to sleep eventually.
Korius wrapped his long black cloak around them both and closed his eyes. There was a brief rippling of substance, a rush of giddy chill, and then warmth. It was faint warmth – the glow from a low fire in a massive stone mantelpiece. But after the journey through the shadows, it was welcome. The gauntly built sylvanth sighed and flung his captive from him. “Go sleep or something. I am too tired to bother with you right now.”
Lonrari collapsed in a freezing heap, shaking and gasping. Looking around she could see a room – it was large with a high ceiling and tall, thin windows of latticed stone through which the moonlight filtered. The room was dim – lit only by a few scant candles and the low fire. The furniture was old stone and looked to have been finely crafted once. Dust covered every surface and cobwebs festooned the elegant cornicing. The floor was smooth, bare stone. Sylvanthir did not build their homes – in that respect, at least they mirrored their forest cousins. Fey homes were grown
from the rocks or trees of the area that they stood in. Ancient and powerful forces were called upon in the process. It was strange to see one so poorly cared for.
There was a faint clicking sound – talons tapping on stone. A soft voice – little more than a whisper – spoke from the doorway. “Korius?”
Korius smiled at the youngster. “Hello Anthalia. We have a new member of our household. She is called Lonrari.”
“Hello Lonrari.” Anthalia regarded the newcomer warily.
Lonrari stared at the strange little creature before her. It was a child – perhaps a few summers older than Althanor. She had pale skin and long black hair that hung in two thin plaits down her back. Her pale violet eyes were large even by anthiri standards; the typically slanted corners dramatically defined by a mass of dark lashes. Long tapered ears and fine features; soft, dull grey and brown plumage that covered her wings…her wings. The child had wings sprouting from her back! And, protruding from beneath the hem of her robe, her small feet were those of a bird of prey. She was a Talaskan twylanth – Lonrari had heard tales of such creatures but had never thought to see one!
The dryanth scrambled to her feet and whirled to face Korius. “What is going on here? How is it that you hold a twylanthi child as a captive?”
Korius stopped smiling. “Anthalia is not my captive. You would do well to remember that.”
“Then what is she to you?” Lonrari stalked closer to the sylvanth. “Why is she here?”
He struck her hard across the face, sending her reeling once more. “That is no concern of yours! Now be quiet – I wish to have dinner before sunrise if at all possible.”
∞∞∞
Kalios shivered. He was afraid of what was coming. Today was his birthday – he would be of age. Eltornius would expect him to cast correctly. But Kalios knew that he could not cast - not the way Eltornius wanted him to. And when I fail, he will punish me again.
