by T.M. Nielsen
Chapter 7
“Where is Alric?” Kyrin asked.
Finn smiled. “He’s busy greeting the elves. He asked me to help you prepare for this.”
“It’s stupid. Why do I have to go meet them?”
“They often claim that Valhara can’t be allies, because we don’t allow outsiders into our midst. You are going to help us align ourselves with them as a non-Sithias follower and someone not born here.”
“Great, I’m sure the elves will love Daemionis.”
“Just get dressed, will you?”
“How many 18-year-olds do you know have to be told what to wear?”
“So you’re 18 now?”
“Yes”
“When did that happen?”
She watched him. “Well where I come from, every year, you get a year older.”
He grinned. “I know that, smartass. What I want to know is when your birthday was.”
“Does it matter?”
“Yes”
“Why?”
“Stop being stubborn and tell me.”
“Last week.”
“We should have thrown you a party.”
“For aging?”
“Birthday parties are big here. There’s usually a feast and dancing.”
“Of course there is. Do I look like I dance?”
“Do you?”
“No”
“What? Melee types can’t dance?”
Kyrin grabbed the dress and walked behind the dressing curtain. “I’ll never get used to dresses.”
“Well, try not to modify this one.”
“Hey, I was attacked, and I can’t fight in a dress.”
“It’s just funny is all.”
“I’m so glad I amused you again,” she said, walking out from behind the curtain. The dark-green dress fit loosely against her body and fell to a long, flowing skirt. She buttoned the bodice up to just under her chin and almost tripped over the skirt.
“Gonna put your hair down?”
She looked at him, annoyed. “What?”
“It looks better down.”
“It gets in my way.”
“Not today. Today, you’re not fighting.”
“Right, unless these allies attack us,” she said, and started to pull her hair out of the braid. Once she ran a brush through it and it fell smoothly down her back, she turned to him. “Ready.”
He smiled. “Kid, you look like a girl now.”
“Great, just what I wanted.”
Finn put his arm out. “Take it.”
“Take your arm?”
“Yes”
“Won’t you need it later?”
“Just grab it, and stop being difficult.”
She rolled her eyes and took his arm, and let him lead her out of the room and down to the ballroom. She walked in and smiled at some familiar servants, and then turned and faced Alric, who was standing across the room with one of the elves.
The elf stood a few inches taller than Alric and had on a shimmery silver robe. His hair was long and golden, and the tip of his pointed ears showed just below where his crown began.
Alric nodded to Finn, and he led Kyrin over to the king.
“Here she is,” Alric said, smiling.
The elf turned and nodded to her. “Hello, it is nice to meet you. My name is Auldian.”
“Tae covannek,” she said, walking over to Alric. He watched her curiously when she spoke in the foreign language.
“Petick edhavven?” Auldian asked her.
“Yes”
The elf smiled. “You speak the language of our ancestors, interesting.”
“I’ve encountered royal elves before.”
“Royal elves?”
“Yes”
“I haven’t heard that term before.”
“It’s what I’ve heard the day walking elves called.”
“As opposed to what?” he asked, frowning.
She watched him and saw that he was getting tense. “Never mind. It’s nice to meet you.”
“Alric has told us nothing about you, other than you do not follow Sithias.”
“No, I don’t. My deity is unknown to these parts though.”
“Are the Valharan customs pushed onto you?”
She smiled. “Not too badly.”
“Are you aware that the king once banned elves from entering Valhara?”
“No, I don’t know the history of this place.”
“Where are you from then?” he asked, watching her.
She glanced at Alric.
“Enough with Kyrin. Shall we talk?”
The elf looked at Kyrin. “If she comes with us.”
Alric nodded and then showed them both out to a private room. Wine was already waiting on the table with three platinum wine flutes. They all sat down, and Kyrin wondered why she was even there. The last thing she wanted was to get in the middle of a political dispute.
Alric began. “Kyrin, Auldian is king of the elves.”
Auldian was watching Kyrin closely, and his scrutinizing gaze was making her nervous.
She nodded slightly.
“Our lands have never joined in an alliance before, but Qualsax is growing stronger and wreaking havoc on both of our kingdoms.”
“Sounds to me like it’s time to do away with the Qualsax.”
“That isn’t as easy as it sounds,” Auldian said. She got the impression he wanted to ask her a lot of questions, but she wasn’t willing to give very much information to a royal elf.
“Apparently, not if you join.”
“Where are you from?”
“We’re not here to discuss Kyrin,” Alric said. “We have to consider joining forces to provide a solid base for protection through both of our lands.”
“What did you have in mind?”
“We think they have attack crews out. The Qualsax city nearest here has no warriors in it.”
“They left their city with women and children only?”
“Yes, but they know honor prevents us from attacking innocents.”
“They don’t seem to have that problem.”
“No, they do not.”
As Alric and Auldian spoke, Kyrin’s mind wandered to Creteloc. When Kyrin first fled from the Shadowmere, she found herself in Paramide Dimension. She was injured and lost, and not sure where to go. She couldn’t find any cities, and her supplies had already run out.
She thought she’d checked around carefully before falling asleep but a dark form appeared from the trees. She immediately stood up to attack but heard only a slight chuckle. The evil being that stepped out of the shadows immediately terrified Kyrin. With her dark features and glowing red eyes, it was hard not to be afraid of Creteloc, one of Daemionis’ priestesses.
Creteloc brought Kyrin before her god as a sacrifice. In fear, Kyrin cast on him, and he was pleased that his loyal follower had found one of the true magic users.
Magic had faded from the dimensions, and it was a rare prize to have one as powerful as Kyrin come into his presence. They worked out an agreement that Daemionis would watch over Kyrin if she agreed to be his.
Kyrin lived with Creteloc for a few short months and learned the ways of Daemionis. Most of his followers were the night walkers, the assassins and rogues of the lands, including Creteloc. Her dark ways were intriguing to Kyrin, and she adopted a lot of Creteloc’s mannerisms and learned a great deal from her about how to survive.
She wasn’t sure if she should call Creteloc a friend. Creteloc had no friends, but she was as close as Kyrin had to one. Any time she got near Paramide, she went in search of Creteloc. She never found Creteloc but somehow Creteloc always managed to find her. Each meeting was brief and lacked in any personal interaction, but each time, Kyrin grew stronger and learned more about how to stay alive.
Poisons were Creteloc’s passion. Hired to kill the strongest in the land, she was sought out and paid great amounts for her services. She formed a type of
alliance with the shadow elves, and Kyrin frowned when she realized how furious Creteloc would be if she saw her now, sitting at the table with a royal elf.
Kyrin knew that royal elves weren’t to be trusted. She was ready for Auldian to turn on her and attack but would wait for his move to do so. Creteloc had ingrained in Kyrin how evil was to be lived but not displayed. She knew better than to give any indication to those she lived with that her true nature was darker than they could imagine.
She chastised herself for the altar in the woods. She thought it was far enough away that no one would find it, so she didn’t bother covering her tracks. That’s something else she hoped Daemionis hadn’t seen, for he would tell Creteloc. She had to sacrifice to Daemionis to repay him for her life. She thought of no better way than by sacrificing the old hermit man who lived in the caves outside of Valhara.
He’d begged for his life but his mind was too far gone to invoke Sithias, which would have been harder to explain. The feeble man put up no fight as she tore his heart from his chest and offered the rest of his body up to Daemionis. He never wanted a heart in the body of the sacrifice. He had no need for them.
The hatred Creteloc had for the royal elves was strong, and just the thought of them made Kyrin want to attack them. Alric seemed oblivious of their disgusting ways, but she would keep on her guard as long as they were around.
“Kyrin,” Alric said a little louder.
She jumped slightly and looked at him.
He smiled. “You were far away. Interesting thoughts?”
“Not really.” She glanced over at Auldian and saw that he was still watching her. She knew that elves could often feel the presence of evils, and she wondered if he was on to her.
Auldian looked Kyrin in the eyes and spoke to her in a foreign language. Alric simply smiled, proud that Kyrin was able to speak to Auldian in his native tongue.
Kyrin’s eyes narrowed, because Auldian spoke the words of the shadow elf. He did realize she was an evil and was testing to see if she had befriended the soul enemies of the royal elves, the shadow elves.
She spoke more of the shadow elf language than that of the royal elf but wasn’t going to fall for his test. “I’m sorry. I don’t know that much elvish.”
“You called me a royal elf.”
“Yes”
“You said that’s how you referred to the day walking elves.”
Kyrin just watched him.
“What other elves do you know?”
Alric smiled. “She can’t possibly know of the others. There haven’t been black elves in over a century.”
“Yes, how would I possibly know about them?” She wondered what happened to the shadow elves of Paragoy. It was something she wanted to find out and hoped that the Valharans hadn’t destroyed them.
“I just thought maybe on your travels you had heard the stories,” Auldian said. “Yestan thluk hoathin pos.”
She tensed when he spoke the shadow elf words to her and knew that he would be watching her for a reaction. Instead of appeasing him with a reaction, she smiled sweetly and then took a sip of wine.
“I think we’re done here then,” Alric said, standing slowly. “Think it over and let me know what you decide. The alliance can benefit both of our lands, but I do realize that distrust runs deep.”
“Warranted distrust,” Auldian said, standing also.
Kyrin watched Auldian carefully, ready to attack if he so much as twitched toward the weapon at his side. She had her flail tucked under her skirts and was finding that to be a huge advantage of a dress. When your weapon was at your side, unhidden, it put enemies on edge. With it tied to her thigh beneath her skirts, she could have the advantage of a surprise attack.
“I will let you know,” Auldian said before walking out.
Alric turned to Kyrin, and he was smiling. “Would you stand down? He’s not going to attack.”
“You don’t know that.”
“Yes, I do. There are twelve elves in Valhara and thousands of us.”
She started to leave but noticed he wasn’t moving, so she turned to him. “What?”
“It’s interesting that you speak their language.”
“I’ve been around.”
“I’m starting to think there’s more to you than meets the eye.”
“You sound like I’m hiding things from you.”
“You are.”
She crossed her arms. “Such as?”
“I haven’t figured it out yet, but I will. I would expect as my indentured servant that you would be open with me about everything.” Alric knew this was the only way to get a response from her. She said nothing personal unless ordered to do so.
She clenched her jaw and watched him.
“Is there something you wish to tell me?”
“No”
“I wish you would trust me.”
Just the words made her start to get mad. “Why would I trust you?”
“I’ve done nothing to show you otherwise.”
“In six months, I’ll be out of your hair, so there’s no reason to build a trust relationship. You’re my master until that time, and as such, I will do as you ask, but I won’t divulge information that you can use against me in the future.”
With that, Kyrin stormed out of the room and headed for her bedroom. Alric sat alone for a bit and thought about what she’d said. He had never met anyone as untrusting as Kyrin, but he admitted that he’d never met anyone like her at all. He wondered how she made it this far without trusting anyone. Sithias made it sound like she wouldn’t be able to trust even her deity.
Kyrin slammed her door shut and sat down on the bed to fume. “How does he expect me to trust him!? It’s absurd!”
She stood to tear the dress off and toss it into the corner before putting on her pants and tunic. Finn’s brother, Hicks, had made her a new belt, she figured as a peace offering, and it fit her better than the one she normally wore. She’d taken the old one off of a dead Shadowmere, and it was several sizes too big and fit improperly. The new one held her flail tighter to her side and didn’t bulk up and get in her way.
She had to reverse her thoughts about him though. She was shocked when he presented her with the belt, something he made, only two weeks after she tried to kill him. She hadn’t forgiven him for touching her lips, but she wondered at the completely illogical act of giving a gift to someone who attempted to end your life.
Kyrin’s skin broke out in goose bumps and the hair on the back of her neck stood up. She looked around the room quickly. The feeling was something she’d felt often before, and it usually preceded an uninvited visit from Daemionis.
“My Lord?” she asked into the empty room. His form finally appeared, menacing and fraught with malevolence.
He looked down at her as his lip curled up into a snarl. “I’m disappointed in you, Kyrin.”
Her heart threatened to stop in her chest, and she dropped to her knees. “My Lord? Why?”
“Are you becoming comfortable here?”
“No”
“Are you having feelings of loyalties to the humans of this land?”
“No, my Lord.”
“Don’t lie to me!” he roared.
Her voice was barely above a whisper, “I’m not. I swear.”
“I took a great risk allowing you into my fold, Kyrin. One such as you doesn’t deserve to follow me, but I saw potential. Are you proving me wrong?!”
She shook her head. “No.”
“I can read your thoughts, Kyrin. You have an attraction to this king.”
“I don’t though.”
“He has feelings for you too, and I will not have one of my followers mating with one of Sithias’ wimps!”
She was finding it hard to breathe. Never before had she had Daemionis mad at her, and she wasn’t sure how to fix it.
The floor rumbled beneath her as he walked forward and his massive hooves pounded against the wooden floors.
“Are you my follower?”
“Yes, my Lord.”
“Do not cross me!”
“I won’t.”
“You’ve been lax and you know it. I demand a great sacrifice! I command that you repay me for the thoughts that betray you.”
“Tonight, my Lord. I swear.”
He growled, and pain erupted through her body. She fell back onto the hard wooden floor, thrashing in agony. A scream escaped her lips as he watched her, scowling down at her while she silently begged for release.
A malicious smile crossed his cracked lips, and he laughed, fading from view. When he was gone, the pain disappeared and Kyrin slowly crawled to her hands and knees. She heard frantic banging against the bedroom door. There was lingering pain, but she forced herself to stand straight and opened the door.
Finn, Alric, and six knights immediately ran into the room with swords drawn. She sat down on the chair, too weak to stand much longer, and she fought to catch her breath.
Alric knelt down beside her. “What was that?”
“What?” she managed to choke out.
“We heard shouting, and the entire castle shook.”
She shook her head. “It wasn’t in here.”
“It was in here. Who was it? Tell me.”
Kyrin leaned over and put her head against her knees. Bending helped lessen the fading pain, and she couldn’t handle looking at Alric while she lied to him.
“Was it Daemionis?” he asked her angrily.
“No”
“You’re lying to me. I heard shouting but couldn’t make out the words! Only a god can do that, Kyrin. The ground shook, and it came from your room.”
“My Lord,” Finn said, putting a hand on his shoulder, “you’re scaring her.”
Alric leaned back on his knees and watched her for a moment. He began to calm when he saw that she was in pain. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing,” she whispered, and finally managed to sit up.
“It was Daemionis, and he hurt you!”
“Just leave it alone. You don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Let me heal you.”
“No! Just drop it, okay?”
“I can help you.”
Alric’s hands glowed and he moved them toward her, but she managed to stand up slowly. “I said no.”
He sighed. “What was he mad about?”
“Nothing that concerns you.”
“So it was Daemionis?!”
“I just need to rest.”
“Sithias can protect you from him.”
Kyrin sat down on the floor and rolled onto her side. They hadn’t been able to get her onto a bed. She thought they were way too soft and uncomfortable, so she slept on the floor with only a blanket beneath her.
“Rest for now, but this isn’t over,” Alric said angrily, and then walked out of the room.
When the room emptied, Kyrin got up and pulled on her boots. She tied her hair up and then looked out the window into the dark night. The window opened silently and she was soon running through the trees, aided by the boots Creteloc had given her.
Daemionis was mad, madder than she’d ever seen him, and she knew that only a large sacrifice would appease him. She couldn’t be on his bad side. She couldn’t take the pain, and she knew that Creteloc would be furious with her when she found out.
The woods were silent as she ran through them, heading for her target just outside of Valhara’s land. She had to do this quickly, and she had to do it in the name of Daemionis.
Kyrin slowed outside of the small village. No one was moving around, and no sounds could be heard. They were sleeping, and if Alric was right, there were no warriors left. The women would be sleeping with their children nestled beside them and had no idea the wrath that was about to be inflicted upon them.
She drew a ‘D’ in the dirt with the ceremonial dagger and then knelt in the middle of it and shut her eyes. The prayer was long, a prayer dedicating the lives of this village to him. She reminded him that the pain she inflicted was in his honor, and the fear the villagers felt in their hearts would be the fear of him.
Once done, she stood up and began to slowly rub her hands together. Only once before had she used such powerful magic. Its forces were so strong that it would cause a disturbance to the good around her, and she normally wouldn’t risk it. She wasn’t even sure if Daemionis knew she had it in her to do, but she was too afraid of his anger to hide it any longer.
