A Rising Storm (Tainted Blood Book 4)

by Jeff Gunzel

  “Travel with you?” Jarlen mumbled under his breath. Were these two really so trusting as to invite a perfect stranger to join them? Such blind innocence. How had they survived this long? “What are you talking about? I just attacked you both, and now you ask me to join you?”

  “I guess these disguises worked pretty well,” Alaric said, coming up closer to join in the conversation. “You attacked us because you didn’t recognize who we were. An honest mistake, friend. Now let’s get moving before any real humans show up. There are everywhere, you know.” Alaric hopped back up on his mount as if the conversation were over.

  “You can ride with me,” said Lucilla, smiling at Jarlen as she too jumped back on her horse. “But we need to hurry.” She pointed up to the sky. “Not much daylight left, and we would like to travel at least five more miles before making camp.”

  “You’re both insane,” Jarlen gasped, his mind barely able to comprehend the ignorance of these simpletons. He had just randomly stumbled across two of his own species, yet they didn’t seem all that surprised to find him. Furthermore, they seemed to have almost no survival instinct at all. Just because they were the same species didn’t mean they were friends! “What makes you think I would just up and leave with you two?” He wanted to ask them how they had even survived this long, seeing as how they were so trusting, but decided he didn’t even want to know.

  Alaric frowned. “What do you mean?” he asked, appearing slightly irritated for the first time. “We’re all going to the same place, right? Why wouldn’t you want to join us?” Reading Jarlen’s confused expression, he turned to his partner, his grin returning once more. “He doesn’t know!” he said excitedly. Jarlen seemed to be caught in the middle of some private joke.

  Catching on, Lucilla looked at Jarlen, a stunned look on her face. “Are you saying you’re not traveling to the Latrain Mountains?”

  “No I’m not,” Jarlen answered, confused as ever. Any concern of these two gullible simpletons posing a threat was long gone. At this point, he really believed they were just crazy. “Why would I be?” Alaric and Lucilla glanced at each other and began laughing. Jarlen sneered. In that instant, he reconsidered killing them both. The world was not so innocent as these two seemed to believe, and taunting the wrong person could mean certain death. Whether they realized it or not, they were mere seconds away from finding out the hard way.

  “Then that is all the more reason for you to join us,” Lucilla said, rummaging through one of her saddlebags. Jarlen’s burning curiosity was the only thing keeping them alive right now, and even that was hanging by a thread.

  “Here,” she said, handing Jarlen two rolled-up parchments, one smaller than the other. Eyeing her suspiciously, he accepted both and unrolled the larger one first. It was a crude map of the Latrain Mountain Range with a blue circle highlighting a specific area. Little doubt that circle represented their destination. Worn, clinging from its tattered edges, he carefully unrolled the second one and read the simple scribbling. Unconvinced, he read it a second, then third time, trying to digest the enormity of this cryptic message.

  He looked up, both Alaric and Lucilla smiling at him. “This is real?” he asked, still unsure whether he should believe either of these two.

  “Yes!” they said together, wide-eyed, nodding wildly like excited children.

  “And what do I care of this?” Jarlen said, tossing both parchments back at her. They bounced off Lucilla’s horse and she quickly hopped down to retrieve them as if they were made of gold.

  “I understand,” Alaric answered with a shrug. “We see how strong you are. Why would you want to come find a community of your own kind when there is plenty of work for a man of your talents? I imagine you already have several human contacts waiting for you as we speak. But as for Lucilla and myself, well, we are not so lucky as you. We know we don’t belong in this world, so this is our only option. Take care, my friend. I hope you find what you’re looking for.” He turned to his partner. “Come, Lucilla. I believe we have taken up enough of his time.”

  “Be careful,” Lucilla said as she walked her horse past. “The humans can be...unpredictable at times. Whatever you do, don’t trust them completely.” With that, they clopped away at a steady, slow clip. Jarlen watched them go, the two of them already laughing at some other private joke. Already he was forgotten, as if their chance encounter had never happened. And although they disgusted him, he couldn’t deny the pang of jealousy eating at him from within. They had something he likely never would. They had each other. The concept of a friend seemed so alien to Jarlen.

  And now what was he going to do? All this time he had been running away from Shadowfen, but wasn’t actually running towards anything. Would he hunt another deer tonight, then spend the night up in some treetop? What about tomorrow, the day after? He then realized that these two had yet another thing he didn’t have: a purpose. And perhaps more importantly, hope for their future.

  He began running to catch up with them. Crawling back to accept their offer was humiliating, but necessary. What if there really was some secret meeting place up in the mountains where his kind were joining forces? He would no doubt thrive in such an environment. And if there was nothing there as he suspected, then he was no worse off than he was now. He had nothing to lose.

  “Hold on,” Jarlen shouted, racing up behind them. They turned about, each wearing a smug expression. Already Jarlen was beginning to regret his choice, but it was too late now.

  “So you’ve decided to join us after all?” Lucilla asked. “I’m glad you’ve changed your mind. There is nothing for you out there.” She pointed back the other way with her chin.

  “Since you will be accompanying us after all, perhaps you will tell us your name?” Alaric asked, grinning from ear to ear.

  “Jarlen,” Jarlen growled, now even more irritated by their constant cheeriness. It was unnatural! “And I’m only coming along to make sure you two don’t get killed before you get there,” he added. “You two know nothing of the dangers in this world. It’s a wonder that nothing has killed you yet.”

  “If you say so, Jarlen,” Lucilla said with shrug. “Anyway, you can take turns riding on each of our horses so as not to tire them out.”

  Jarlen sniffed. He had already swallowed enough of his pride. It would be a long time before he took either of them up on such an offer. For now he would use his own two feet.

  * * *

  Curled up, back pushed against the corner, Assirra sobbed in her cell. The damp stone was cold against her skin, but she needed to be in the confined area for a sense of security. Cold walls hugging her from both sides was still better than sitting in open space. They had taken Liam and Thatra away, so all she could do was cry while awaiting their turn. They would come for her just as they came for the others. It was only a matter of time.

  “Steady, girl,” Owen said from his cell across the way. He couldn’t see her, but he could hear her sobs.

  “I can’t do this,” she said, voice cracking. “I am so scared.”

  “And that is exactly what they want. You are stronger than this, Assirra, High Cleric of the tarrins. Do not forget who you are. Even if they’re not here, yer people are depending on you. They still believe in you, and so do I.”

  Her sobs only intensified. “I am no warrior!” she cried out. “I am a servant to Odao. But these days I’m not so sure I am even that anymore. I need his strength, his comforting touch. Yet I have not felt his presence in weeks. Without him, I am nothing!”

  “Nothing is not what people see when they look at you,” Owen assured her. His voice was calm and certain. He really didn’t sound rattled in the least despite also waiting his turn to be questioned. “There is a reason your people follow you, and it has nothing to do with Odao. They see your inner strength, just as I do. You came here to Shadowfen and did what you had to, not for some god, but to help a friend. Fear didn’t stop you then, and I don’t believe it will stop you now. I am honored to call you my friend
. I promise you we’ll get through this.”

  They heard a door slam from the upper stairway, then footsteps leading down. Two guards dragged Thatra along, each one supporting an arm. Naked, her back covered with deep cuts no doubt from a whip, she was barely conscious and unable to walk. Crushed white salt frosted her back. Clearly it was used to make the wounds burn even more. It was strange to see the unbreakable warrior so thoroughly beaten, so weak and defenseless. The sight made Assirra’s heart sink. If they could break Thatra so easily...

  “She’s next,” said one of the guards, pointing to Assirra’s cell as they tossed Thatra back into hers.

  “No!” Assirra shrieked, backing away from the bars until her back was flat against the stone. “No, you can’t!”

  “You don’t exactly have a choice,” the guard grumbled, fumbling with his key against the lock. “But I suggest you save some of that energy.” He motioned back to the semiconscious tarrin who was just now beginning to stir. “I have a feeling you’re going to need it.”

  “Leave her,” Thatra rasped from her cell, face down on the stone. “Take me again. I will take her turn. I swear if you touch her—” Her every word came out as a breathy huff. Her will alone was the only thing keeping her conscious. She began to crawl, each labored movement looking as if it might be her last. Yet somehow she managed to crawl all the way up to the edge of the cell. Still unable to lift her head, her face lay flat against the floor as she mumbled into the stone. “Take me instead,” she repeated. “You still have yet to break me. Your job is not done. I—” Her grip loosened and slid down the bars as she fell back into unconsciousness.

  Assirra’s sobbing began anew. A torrent of emotions swirled within, threatening to consume her. Fear, anger, and dismay all raged inside her. If this was a sign of what was to come, she doubted she would even survive the ordeal. But despite the mounting terror rising with each passing second, one sensation rose above all the others: shame. How could she sit here and fear for herself after what Thatra had already endured? And if her body hadn’t given out, she was still willing to sacrifice even more to protect her High Cleric!

  What is it you see in me? Assirra thought. I am weak and pathetic. I don’t deserve a loyal friend like you.

  When the cage door creaked open, Assirra slid her back down the wall and closed her eyes, both hands covering her face. She had never been so frightened, and she was ashamed of that fact. Her hand raised as the guard pulled on her wrist. “No,” she screamed, kicking against the man’s shin.

  “See that? Now you be owing me that gold piece,” Owen laughed from his cell. “You hear me Thatra? Don’t ye pretend to be sleeping just so you don’t have to pay up. When we get out of here, you’ll give me what’s owed.”

  “Shut up over there or you’ll be next!” one of the guards barked, tugging against Assirra’s wrist as she struggled to break free.

  “Oh no I won’t!” Owen laughed harder, his face pressed between two bars, showing off his nearly toothless grin. “That’s why Thatra owes me a gold. I knew ye gutless cowards would come for the women first. One look at you spineless, lily-livered jellyfish, and knew a safe bet when I saw it. Easy money it was.”

  Owen gestured to the younger of the two. “Look at this fresh meat here. What, do pull em fresh off their mother’s tit, slap a uniform on ‘em and call them soldiers? I’ve got warts older than you!” When the young guard drew his blade and advanced on Owen’s cell, the other guard stayed his hand and pulled him back. “Oh, don’t ye worry about it, young blood,” Owen continued his taunting. “I’ll keep yer mother’s tit nice and warm for you.”

  “Stop,” the first guard ordered, struggling to hold back the youngster. “That’s what he wants. Ignore him.”

  “Did you hear what he—” the young guard began.

  “They are to be questioned,” the veteran guard reminded, giving him a shove back towards the steps. “If you kill him, then I assure you that the king will have your head. Follow me!” They both went back up the steps, all but seeming to have forgotten about Assirra.

  “What are you doing?” Assirra whispered once they were out of sight. “Are you mad? You know they’re going to come back for you.”

  “I’m counting on it,” Owen said, eyeing the steps expectantly. “We’re both going to be questioned anyway. I might as well get my turn first and buy you some time. Who knows? Maybe I can wear them out a little.”

  A moment later the door opened, and the sound of additional boots came stomping down. Assirra was right that they were coming for him, and it hadn’t taken but a few seconds. Six guards including the first two surrounded Owen’s cell. Four had their swords drawn and ready while two held man catchers—long poles with spiked metal collars on the end to immobilize the prisoner. Resisting in any way would just wedge the spikes in deeper.

  “Are ye boys going to make me lose that bet?” Owen laughed, gripping the bars, his face still wedged between two of them.

  “You’re going to lose more than that,” the young guard threatened nervously. “Step away from the door!” Grinning, Owen stepped back as one of them began fiddling with the lock. The door flung open and the guards cautiously entered, each one taking up positions around him. He couldn’t help but laugh to himself. Even six armed guards were child’s play for the Demon Hunter. Owen could have painted the cell with their blood without breaking a sweat had he chosen to. But what would be the point? These six would die, but he would encounter hundreds more before getting out. And even if he managed to escape by some miracle, was he to just abandon his friends? No, he would face this challenge just as he had faced all others.

  Two guards stepped in, latching their man catchers around each side of Owen’s neck. The spikes were already beginning to bite in. With blood seeping from the many tiny puncture wounds dotting his neck, Owen just grinned. The others moved in, their sword tips pressing against his body from multiple angles.

  “Let’s go,” the guard said, backing out of the cell while motioning to the others to bring him along slowly. “If you try anything—”

  “Then you’ll be the first to die,” Owen taunted, his savage glare at odds with his grin.

  “Owen...” Assirra whispered as they led the hunter past her cell. She reached through the bars and brushed his arm. Yet another person was set to make an unimaginable sacrifice for her. How could she ever make up for this?

  Chapter 6

  Viola looked down from the tower as another convoy of riders took off from the stone platform, the bags strapped to the giant ravens bulging with goods. The spiritists often traded with the humans residing in nearby towns. Old artifacts were often found in nearby mountain caves, and in return for these treasures, the humans gave the spiritists generous portions of grain and meat. When the riders returned, their bags would be just as full as when they left.

  “I still haven’t grown used to it,” Bella said from her seat on the couch across the room. Elbows propped up on the stone sill, Viola turned back to regard her.

  “It still feels like it’s all just a dream,” the queen added, her gaze sweeping around the room. It was cool in the tower as always, but wrapped in multiple furs, Bella hardly noticed. The cold didn’t bother her anywhere near as much as it once had.

  Viola returned her attention to the outdoors, watching the riders disappear into the ever-present fog. But she couldn’t help but agree with Bella. This was all going to take some getting used to. In a way, it really did feel like a dream. Her wandering gaze fell on the spiritists standing guard down below, their eyes lost in a foggy haze. Their strange connection between the physical world and the spiritual world was a mysterious thing to witness.

  “Come, sit with me,” Bella said, hooking a chair with her toes and sliding it near her. She seemed more relaxed now that it was just the two of them. Viola could relate. She didn’t care much for large crowds or people watching her every minute of the day. She took the offered seat and lowered her chin, hands folded on her lap.

&n
bsp; “Why did you send for me, Your Highness?” Viola asked, her eyes flickering up to meet Bella’s briefly before looking away.

  “Do I make you uncomfortable?” Bella asked, leaning forward in her seat. “Be honest with me.”

  Viola’s eyes flickered back up, only this time she held Bella’s gaze. “Everyone makes me uncomfortable,” she admitted.

  Bella smiled. “I suspected as much. And that is one of the reasons I sent for you. I have no demands to ask of you. I just wanted to talk. Is that all right?”

  Viola nodded, shifting uncomfortably in her seat. Taking notice, Bella patted the seat next to her on the couch. Viola hesitated, then shifted over in one quick motion. She still looked stiff, hands fidgeting in her lap, but she had to admit it was much more comfortable than the hard chair.

  “Better?”

  Viola nodded again.

  “Would you feel more at ease if Salina were present? I could send for her if you—”

  “No,” Viola said. “I mean, she has already done more than enough to ease my transition. Besides, it wouldn’t make much difference. I’m just awkward around people. That’s all. But it doesn’t mean I don’t trust you.”

  “I see,” Bella said, regarding Viola curiously. “You know, we are not so different, you and I.” Viola snorted, then quickly covered her mouth. Although she couldn’t blush, she could feel the heat rising in her face. Trying not to grin, Bella feigned a look of insult, planting her hands on her hips and twisting sideways. Viola would have snorted a second time had her hands not already been covering her mouth.

  “I’m being serious,” the queen added before flashing a wink, just to be certain Viola knew she wasn’t insulted. “The fact is I was very awkward as a child.” Viola bit her bottom lip, her eyes drifting up. “You don’t believe me,” Bella accused, reading Viola’s expression.

  “You’re a queen,” Viola said, trying to choose her words carefully. “That’s not exactly the kind of future one might expect from an awkward youth.”