“Is it dark down there, Mannon?” Sharyn asked, peering toward the dungeon’s direction.
“These passageways are well lit, but further down the light is dimmer on purpose. At the end, take the heavy black wooden door on the right. It opens to a small room that serves as a sally port. Go into the room, close the door to the passages before opening the door to the dungeons. There are too many of you to fit into the sally port so be sure to turn off the iozene lamps in the passages or they will give you away when you attempt to pass out of the passages into the dungeon hallways.”
“I understand,” Sharyn replied. “Osgar, you and half the men come with me. We will go to the dungeons and free our people. Rhia, where shall we meet up with you?”
“Make your way to the Council Chambers in the observatory on the first floor. Mannon will bring you there from the dungeons. The room is shaped like a big old-fashioned key. It’s one wide, long hall that ends in a large circular meeting room. That’s where the judgments are rendered. Both sides of the hallway are lined with dark screens where the spectators sit. Bring your team around to the right and I’ll bring mine around to the left. Also, the entire judgment circle rotunda is darkly screened as well so we’ll be well hidden. If I were a Noman, that’s where I would scout out the place. And that’s where they are going to bring RuArk for sentencing.”
Mannon drew Rhia a map that showed the fastest passage route to the observatory quickly. With that, they split up and moved at speed toward their destinies.
Silently opening the door that let out into a pass-through room, Rhia, Joan and Shaw secured the passageway door, and then proceeded to another that let out in the back of her father’s large bedroom closet.
Holy shit, we’re in my father’s bedroom?
Warriors remained in the clothes closet, more in the small pass-through room between the passages and the walk-in wardrobe, while the rest waited in the passages themselves. If the coast was clear they could make their way to the Council Chambers quickest from there.
Thankfully, the bedroom was empty. Shaw took the lead and sprinted through the rest of the apartment before coming back to the bedroom to signal the all-clear.
Joan went back into the closet and returned, followed by most of their men. Once out of the passages, none of them stood still. Instead, they moved over every inch of those apartments looking for intruders and traitors in places Rhia would have never thought to look.
Her chest swelled with pride. Her husband, the Warlord of Gaia, the Wind Storm, Protector of the Realm, had trained these men. And they were most efficient at their business.
Shaw lifted his gaze toward the ceiling as if searching for something in the very air itself. He flashed a quick hand signal and the entrance to both the clothes closet and the secret passages snapped shut from the inside, and every Gaian warrior in the chambers disappeared behind a bookcase, tapestry or underneath a table or desk. Shaw pulled Mannon and Rhia into the long drapes that hung on either side of the floor to ceiling windows. In mere seconds, all were hidden.
Just as Rhia was about to ask what was going on, she heard the outer door to the apartments open.
“It smells like horses in here,” said a whiny, scratchy voice.
A deeper, growling tone answered, “We do not care. We cannot feed or hunt until we have finished checking this floor. Let us do it quickly and move on.”
“Everyone in the City knows the High Counsel and that huge dark haired warrior are being held in the upper towers. Why must we check these rooms?”
“Because we were ordered to,” said the growler, who moved closer to Rhia’s hiding place. She heard a quiet click and knew he was checking the locks on the windows.
Scratchy was not content with the answer. He moved into the bathing room and yelled back at his partner, “I grow tired of his ordering us about, as if he is better than us. As if he is not Noman himself.”
“Yes, but he has the magick. Somehow he has regained the Gifts that were lost to all but the Gaian,” said the growler.
“Yes,” said scratchy, moving toward the main door, satisfied that they’d found nothing. “He has found the lost magick and it is the only thing that keeps me from bleeding him dry.”
“You speak boldly, but know you would never challenge him.”
“You are right, but I might choose to cross his father, that Collaidh filth. Filthy Draeman traitor. If he would betray his own people, he is a fool to believe we would ever trust him. The idiot believes he is controlling Rehn. I want to be there when he finds that he is mistaken.”
Chuckling they left as quickly as they’d entered. Rhia breathed a sigh of relief as their voices drifted down the hall and away.
One by one, the warriors appeared, their faces hard with resentment at what they had heard. So it was true. There was a Noman in charge. Skin crawling with disgust, Rhia stepped out of her hiding spot.
Barely above a whisper, her voice hard and her expression harder, Rhia spoke. “They are holding RuArk in the towers two floors above this room. There are only two chambers up there. And one of them is mine.”
When they reached the tower rooms, Rhia quickly entered her code into the wall lock. All they found were torn strips of dry bloodied cloth and bonds.
But they’d learned something important by her lifemate’s absence—the Noman didn’t trust Rehn... and Rehn didn’t trust them right back.
* * * * *
Linc closed his eyes and mindlinked with Marth in the next cell.
“Marth, did you hear that?”
“Hear what?”
“A faint gurgling of some sort. I cannot tell what it is. Oh, and Sharyn is here.”
“What! Sharyn? Bloody hell.”
“Yes. I stopped blocking our bond some time ago, and I can now feel her. She is near and she is quiet... unhappy.”
“As are we all.” After a few seconds, Marth said, “I can now sense Joan somewhere close by. What the hell are those women doing here in the High City?”
They sat in silence waiting, then, after what seemed like a lifetime, they finally heard something worth listening for.
Chapter Twenty-One
Sharyn alone exited the passages and stepped silently into the common hallway that led to the dungeons. With a quick peek around a corner, she saw that the hallway was the only way in or out and led to a huge room with two alcoves off to either side.
There were at least thirty Noman simply lounging in those alcoves. The edges of their fangs could be seen gleaming under the dim lighting as some fed off dying men and women. Others were asleep after having obviously gorged themselves into a stupor.
But at the rear of that room was a single door. And that door was actively guarded by ten more of the creatures.
Sharyn stepped back into the passages so cleverly hidden inside the walls of the Citadel. With a hand signal, she instructed twenty of their warriors to clear the alcoves. Three others would help her take care of getting to the central door that no doubt led to their friends.
The Noman were caught completely off guard. The last thought they had was confusion at smelling horses in the dungeons. The fight was vicious. Merciless. Swift. The Gaian’s superior swordsmanship and fighting style ended the confrontation quickly, silencing the Noman with a clean slice or huge fist to the throat before they even had a chance to scream.
Sharyn and Mannon stripped the key tags from their dead quarry, activated the wall lock to the main entrance, and raced quietly down yet another hallway lined with archways. The first few had chains hanging from the ceiling. From the layers of dust on the floors and grayish tint to the white stone of the walls, it was apparent that these alcoves had been there for some time. However, the lack of rust and smooth fitted links of the metal chains was a clear indication that they’d been recently used.
Finally, they came to a section that appeared to be cut right into the earth. The iozene lamps here weren’t bright enough to see where they were going, and it could very well be a trap. With deter
mined, but silent steps, they moved into the darkness together and found the arches no longer led to open alcoves. These were dank, musty, gated cell-like rooms that could only be described as gloomy.
Sharyn’s heart sank. All of the rooms were empty.
With mind and heart focused on her mate-to-be, she invoked the bond and almost screamed with relief.
Farther. They had to go farther into the darkness.
“Linc,” she called quietly. “Are you back here?”
“Yes, here. Keep coming. All the way to the back.” She’d never been so happy, and so pissed, to hear his voice.
It was a relief to find each cell packed with their men. Both Gaian and Draeman were locked inside and crammed together so tightly, there was barely room to move about or sit.
In minutes, they were freed as the key tags were passed around so they could unlock and snatch open the cell doors as quickly as possible before moving on to the next one.
Sharyn found Linc stuffed into a cell at a dead end. He and his comrades’ expressions were proud, unyielding, and determined. Heads held high, their stances belied what had been done to them in these dungeons, and their eyes silently vowed vengeance on their captors.
Linc and Marth were the last to walk out of the formerly guarded door and into the large room. They noted the number of Noman who lay where they’d been cut down and nodded their approval.
“We must get to the observatory. Rhia, Joan, and some of our warriors are there searching for RuArk and the High Counsel. Where are your weapons?”
“In a locked room at the entrance to this place,” Linc said calmly.
Wave after wave of Linc’s admiration—along with utter shock—flowed through their newly forming bond. On one hand, she wanted to throttle him for leaving Province Springs without telling her. To yell that she should leave him in this cell until he apologized for his reckless attempt to protect her. To jump into his arms, hold him tight, tell him how afraid she’d been at what she would find back here in the dark.
There would be time for tenderness later. Right now, they were First Commanders and they had a job to do. RuArk and the High Counsel were missing.
They piled all the Noman bodies into one of the far cells and covered them over with moldy straw taken from long-unused pallets.
Sharyn, Marth and Linc joined ranks and left the dungeon with their men rallied behind them.
Just as they reached the sally port door, Marth silently called a halt. It was a moment of quiet chaos. The Draeman soldiers who’d been training with RuArk had a good grasp of the Gaian hand language and understood what Marth was doing, while the soldiers from the High City did not. They ran into the backs of their fellow soldiers and began grumbling and questioning.
Sharyn let out a somewhat loud ‘Sssh!’ They all fell silent and their gazes followed the direction of the hand she held up that pointed to the huge green-eyed warrior who had called the halt.
“What? What is it?” Mannon whispered. Marth again motioned for him to be quiet and listen. Whatever, whoever it was, made a muffled yet urgent sound, and it was very near.
“Mmmmfffff! Mmmmfffff! Aawwwaawaaahhhmmmf!”
Linc moved toward the noise, which appeared to come from a solid wall. Drawing his weapon, he tapped the wall with his sword. It was hollow.
“Move,” Mannon demanded and began to search the wall for a hidden lock. He found it behind an iozene lamp and quickly engaged it. The door slid open to reveal four hidden rooms, one of which held the High Counsel. Bound and gagged, he lay on the cold stones of the dark cell. His clothes were torn and his skin scraped in places, but otherwise no worse for wear. Needless to say he was glad to see them.
And he knew exactly where to find RuArk.
Soon they were all off at a dead run praying that the Ancestors would help them reach RuArk in time.
* * * * *
Rhia eased out of the hidden passage into a small closet sized room with a single door. According to Mannon’s directions, on the other side of that door was the observation area in the Council Chambers.
She eased it open and peeked out.
There were usually soldiers on patrol in this building, whether council was in session or not. It was eerily quiet. Not one guard, friend or foe, to be seen. Strange.
She looked around, hoping she’d been quiet enough, knowing that it was a good fifty feet to the main door to her left, and another fifty feet to the front of the room where she could hear the Council of Seven already gathered.
Backtracking to the passageway, she signaled the all clear. Silent as death, the warriors entered the observatory and ordered themselves into a strategic line, three men deep from end to end.
Leaving Joan and Shaw to command, if needed, Rhia exited the screening room through a back door and hid behind a pillar close to the Council’s judgment circle. She stilled, listening intently to the Councilors raised voices.
“I am most qualified to be High Counsel,” yelled an impatient Collaidh.
“No, Collaidh. You have shown that you are most qualified to bring the filthy Noman into our midst. You are supposed to be the Council representative of Draema Major, not the Noman vermin!” the Councilman from Draema Porto yelled at the top of his lungs. His round pie-shaped face was as red as a freshly picked apple. Hand and voice shook with anger, which was something Rhia had never seen from the man in all her dealings with his colony.
“Yes, and what of the First Heir? Isn’t her claim legitimate and to be considered prior to your claim?” This from the Councilman of Draema Seine. Her dark brown eyes glittered with anger. “You’ve called a meeting in the dead of night. Why?”
“The High Counsel is dead!”
“Perhaps Collaidh, but the First Heir is not dead,” the Councilman of Draema Salone jumped in angrily, but was cut short by the Councilman of Draema Minor.
“Or are there any other surprises you have for us? Are you going to tell us that Rhia Greysomne is dead as well as the High Counsel?”
Collaidh glared at his esteemed colleagues and his expression said that he wished them all dead! He was losing ground here, and quickly. The dismissive wave of his hand at the Councilman of Minor’s statement didn’t gain him any.
“And this is not a legal council meeting by our laws, Rama! The High Counsel or First Heir must be here to represent Draema Proper and render final judgment. Not to mention, the man you claim to be a criminal is the only authority in Draema Neine since the High Counsel gave him Province Springs and did not name a new Councilor,” said the Councilman of Draema Minor. Nods of agreement came from all of the other members, including the female from Draema Shivna, who had not yet spoken.
Rhia’s mouth fell open. In the cycle-and-a-half that she and RuArk had been in Draema Neine, a council spot had opened and her father hadn’t filled it?
That was huge news. Huge. It meant that Collaidh had moved against a member of the Council of Seven, even if RuArk was only the acting authority. Such a thing was punishable by a good long stint in the iozene mines, along with being stripped of all titles, lands and property gained through the position of councilship.
With that, all of the council members took their seats as Collaidh grumbled about their lackluster cooperation. This was, after all, a most unprecedented gathering. They had no jurisdiction to condemn a non-Draeman person in a court of law, and certainly no authority to hold a trail at night.
Not only was it pre-dawn and fully dark outside, but they were without the traditional witnesses or observers, and no tangible proof against the accused to boot.
The Council members didn’t seem to care that their voices carried. Rhia was glad for it because in their bickering, none of them noticed her once she eased from behind the pillar and approached the Council. As she moved in closer, her senses were on full alert. She might not see anyone right now, but she knew that those loyal to her and RuArk filled both sides of the screened area by now.
A dark cloaked figure emerged from the rotunda.
As the person approached, Rhia noted that though she couldn’t see his face, his height, stature and menacing, but graceful movement, were all strangely familiar. A rapid shiver slivered from the back of her neck down her spine. She couldn’t see his face, but she recognized him as surely as she knew her own face—the man who had visited her dreams before the Grandfather had come to watch over her.
Chapter Twenty-Two
The cloaked man moved a bit closer.
Rhia squared her shoulders, ready in light of this new threat. The Council was still griping at one another, and neither of them could be seen from where they stood. So, she decided to nip her little problem in the bud and get some answers.
“Who are you?”
He threw back his hood and she stilled. He was the Bryan-Who-Was-Not-Bryan that she’d seen in her vision. His features were exactly like those of Bryan Collaidh—which made no sense at all—yet there were differences that made this man quite handsome.
His skin was just as pale as Bryan’s, but without the pasty, sickly pallor. Though the shape was similar, this man’s eyes weren’t frog like or flat black like Bryan’s. Instead, they were a bluish-white color, almost like glacial ice. An eerie, yet almost tangible intelligence shone in his gaze. Thick, lustrously white tresses hung well past his shoulders. To Rhia’s surprise, he was what Bryan would have looked like had he been honorable and even-tempered. The man was just short of beautiful.
And then he smiled.
The sight of sharp incisors in such a handsome face rocked Rhia back on her heels, but only for a second.
“You look like Bryan Collaidh. Why?”
“Never confuse me with my repulsive idiotic brother.”
“Brother?”
“Unfortunately. I am Bryan Collaidh’s brother, Rehn. His twin, actually.”
“But you’re a Noman. How could the two of you be twins?”
“It is a long story indeed. After we are wed we can lie about and speak of it all. Or you can ask your new father-in-the-law since it is completely his fault,” he said with an unexpectedly sophisticated and condescending sniff.
Reckoning Page 19
