The little necromancer hung his head and walked out.
The Dark One stood on top of his tower, the cool air feeling good on his face. He had to get ready. His creation would be here soon.
He had lied to Siro. He had no intention of slowing Kian down. This time, he would bring the half-elf under his control. This time, the swordsman wouldn’t escape.
He felt a huge surge in the magical forces that floated invisibly in the air. He turned to see a tall, slender woman. She would be beautiful if her features were not so severe. Still, she was not unpleasant to look at.
Dark eyes and slender nose, thin lips forever frowning, her black hair was combed straight back but he could still see the white streak that ran all the way through the middle of it.
He went to his knee. “I’m yours to command, my goddess.”
She had a look of pity in her eyes. “Do get up, kneeling does not become you.”
He pushed himself up. “What brings you to my humble tower, oh most powerful one?”
She rolled her eyes. “You know that the Mistress has laid claim to your…invention?”
He bowed his head. “I do know, but she has no right, and I will not let her have him, if I can stop her.”
The Goddess of Magic laughed—something she rarely did. “You, stop her? I don’t know that I could stop her, you fool. Look what happened to you last time you tried to stop a god. Besides, I think you will have your hands full with your creature. It does have a mind of its own.”
“For now,” he fired back.
“Will you ever learn, my pitiful little man?”
“Did you come to warn me, Shiavaka, or was there something else?”
“No, I came to see if you were aware of what you are up against. I see that you do. I know what you want and why, but I will not stand against the Mistress. If she intervenes, I won’t help you.”
He bowed again. “I understand. I will not call upon your aid then.” She closed her eyes and vanished. He turned back towards the south. It didn’t matter if the gods interfered or not, it would be over soon one way or the other.
Oliver Deverall was still trying to make sense of why he had been sent on this mission. He had been trying to figure it out since he and his knights had left Tyro. Oliver had not questioned it when the Pope’s own vicar handed him the orders. He didn’t want to make any trouble for himself, it had taken him too long to reach the rank of commander.
He was a Celonian and few men who commanded an entire knight order were not full-blooded Tyroians. He had worked too hard to become the commander of the Knights of Deliverance. All the years of being a page and squire had not been wasted. He had become a skilled warrior and had educated himself in all the fields he needed to excel in the Church’s knight orders. He had spent half his life in pursuit of this command. He was not going to jeopardize it now by questioning orders.
Still, fifty knights sent out in the dead of winter to chase down one half-breed? It was an odd mission indeed, but the order came from the pontiff himself, and the man that spoke for God was never questioned.
The fact that the Church had also sent Dracen Milara along with him made the commander even more uneasy. Milara was a Lord Justice of the Holy Inquisition or, as they were called, the Eyes of God. Milara had brought along thirty of the Hand to keep him company. God’s executioners are what the members of the Hand were jokingly called by the Church knights, but it was nearly the truth. They acted as guards for priests, enforcers of God’s law, and assassins when needed. If they were the Hand of God, they were his left hand. In Deverall’s opinion, they were little better than common brigands.
The knight orders seldom worked with the Eyes or the Hands of God. Hunting down heretics and blasphemers was their work. It was not the job of the papal knight orders. The knights were a martial arm of the Church; they were seldom used to track down pagans. If God needed a battle fought, the holy orders were the ones that brought God his victory. The half-breed they hunted must be very important to the Church, and most likely dangerous, if he and his men had been sent. They had nearly killed their horses getting to Bandara. It was unusual for a priest of Milara’s rank to travel at top speed. Most times, the priests took their sweet time going anywhere.
“I told you the weather would improve, Commander.” Deverall looked to his right. He hadn’t noticed that the lord justice had ridden up alongside him.
Lord Justice Dracen Milara didn’t look like most bureaucrats of the Church. He was very young to hold such a lofty position. The lord justice was maybe forty years old, Oliver guessed. Thick dark hair and goatee waxed into a point. Milara was a powerfully built man. He looked like he could wear armor as easily as he did his robe of office.
“That you did, Lord Justice, the snow has stopped and I think it’s warmed a bit as well.”
“God knew we were coming to do his work, Commander Deverall. He knows when the righteous have need of his mighty hand. He has reached down and tamed this unholy weather. Now we must turn north.”
Oliver looked to the north. “Lord Justice, Turill is south, there’s nothing to the north but farmland and the Adorn Forest.”
The justice pointed. “God says our work is there and there we will go.”
King Havalon sat in a large chair covered with a bear fur. One of his men had killed and skinned the beast and given it to the king as a gift just before winter had hit. He had been brooding for the last two days. Thousands of his men had died at the hands of those vile sorceresses.
Where this General K’xarr had gotten them, he didn’t know, but he would make them pay. He had sent messengers to the Church; they would be very interested in what had happened here. He had thought the Church had rid the land of all the powerful renegade wizards long ago. Only the Circle of Thirteen remained a thorn in the Holy Father’s side. Where had those women come from? The Church would find out and put an end to them. Of that he had no doubt. For now, though, they were his problem.
The king had also sent for his sons, Griffyn and Donovan. He had told them to leave just enough men to make it hard for King Cain to break out of Northham. They would bring the remaining Abberdonian troops to Turill. The Bandaran King didn’t have enough men to give Havalon much trouble anyway. If Cain broke the siege at Northham, he could deal with the young monarch later.
It shouldn’t take his sons and their men long to rejoin him. The weather was improving and there would not be many more weeks of winter. He would wait before he attacked, though. If officials from Tyro did come, he didn’t want to be breaking Church edicts when they arrived.
When his sons arrived, they would bring thousands of reinforcements with them. That would give him enough men to keep a stranglehold on the capital until the weather broke. Spring would be soon enough for his revenge. Witches or no witches, he would find a way to destroy this upstart general and what remained of the queen’s army. By God, he would yet bring Bandara to its knees.
Havalon was about to send for his dinner when one of his young officers entered his makeshift headquarters. “My lord, there is an officer here from the city, he is under a white flag. What would you have us do?”
Havalon tried not to show his surprise. “Did he say what he wanted?”
“He wishes to speak with you, Majesty.”
Havalon considered it for a moment. “Bring him to me under guard.” The officer saluted and walked out.
The king strapped on his sword and placed his battle crown on his head. He wanted to look the part of a warrior king, not a frustrated old man.
Two guards walked the man in through the cabin door. He wore the armor of a Dragitan officer: greaves, breast plate, and the horse-hair crested helmet. Havalon had not had many dealing with the Dragitan Empire. All he really knew was that their legions had carved out a large empire in the west and ruled it with an iron hand. “Majesty, I am Captain Rufio Rabinus Tullus. General K’xarr Strom has sent me to you with an offer.”
Havalon became interested in what the Dragitan had
to say, perhaps this upstart wanted terms for their surrender. Even with his foul sorceresses, he could never hold out against the entire might of the Abberdonian army. “Well, Captain, I will listen to what your general has to say. Speak.”
Rufio gave a slight bow. “General Strom offers you safe passage from Bandara, if you will leave within the next five days.”
Havalon’s face began to turn red. Did this bastard think he was going to surrender? He started to speak but the Dragitan continued, “The general also asks for a small tribute to be paid to the Bandaran throne annually for the next five years in the sum of one million pieces of gold for waging war on the Phoenix Queen’s kingdom.”
The king could take it no longer. Now this girl had the gall to call herself the Phoenix Queen? He jumped up from his chair, face purple with fury. “You tell that inbred son of a gutter rat that I will see him dead and the Abberdonian flag flying above the queen’s palace before spring. If not for black sorcery, he would be beaten now.”
Rufio smiled, making King Havalon even angrier. “General Strom said if you did not accept these terms to tell you that he would see the Abberdonian Kingdom destroyed, your royal bloodline severed, and the lands of Abberdon given to Queen Raygan and the Bandaran people. General Strom also said if it takes his entire lifetime, he will make this so.”
The king drew his sword and pointed it at the Dragitan. “Get out of my sight before I violate the flag of truce you…you…filthy bastard.” Spit flew from the king’s mouth as he stammered out his last insult.
The Dragitan nodded before he was escorted out by the king’s guards. This fool of a general would see what happened when you insulted the King of Abberdon. As soon as Griffyn and Donovan arrived, he would attack.
K’xarr was waiting at the gate for Rufio when the captain rode in. “Well?”
Rufio slid down of his horse and saluted. “I want to report that the King of Abberdon is thoroughly enraged. He is as mad as a Viborg berserker, General.”
K’xarr clapped his friend on the shoulder. “Well done, Rufio, well done. Now the fool will attack before he should, and we will be waiting.”
“I have the baby, Master, and it is doing well.” Siro waited but the Dark One didn’t answer. The wizard sat at his desk preoccupied with a ring he was looking at. It was large and made of silver with a black stone set in its center. He put it on his finger and held it up so the necromancer could see it. He brushed his middle finger against its side. A large hollow needle shot out of the ring. “I assassinated a man with this in Sidia long ago. It works well, don’t you think?”
Siro nodded. “Yes, Master, very well, but, uh…the babe?”
“Yes, yes, the babies, are they both thriving?”
Siro nodded enthusiastically. “Yes, both are doing well and the queen survived the birth of her son. She is resting in the lab below.”
The Dark One looked up from the ring. “What of the female child? She is more important than the queen’s baby.”
“No need to worry, Master, I have taken very good care of the little girl you, uh…acquired. She is growing into quite a little beauty.” The wizard didn’t acknowledge Siro’s observation.
“Do you need me for anything else right now, Master?”
He waved the necromancer away, gesturing with the hand he wore the ring on.
Siro bowed. “I will return to my studies now, Master.” The Dark One did not respond, too focused on the ring. The little necromancer scurried out the big oak door. He knew when his master was devising a plan, and it was best for him not to be too distracting. He had his own chores to take care of. His undead needed to be fed.
The air stirred around him. The wizard looked up, knowing who had just invaded his study. There was only one being who could slip through his wards and magical protection that easy. “Shiavaka?”
The Goddess of Magic stepped out of nothingness. Her hair was down and he couldn’t see the white streak in it as plainly. Dressed in a simple black gown, she looked much more attractive than on her past visits. “So, you are still intent on this confrontation, I see.”
The masked wizard only looked at his goddess.
She understood his silence. “I see. I believe I have discovered the reason why your magic failed to control your creation as you intended. It was not just a random occurrence that he resisted your manipulation.”
The Dark One’s eyes widened beneath his mask. “And what is that reason, milady?”
The goddess’s thin lips curled into a grin. “You manipulated the heart of a great dragon. You cast a reducing spell on it and placed it inside your creature’s chest, did you not?”
The wizard looked away. “I see you figured out one of my little secrets. That is precisely what I did. I had Siro remove the heart from the fetus of a great wyrm. The magic we used to reduce it and keep the heart from growing would not have worked on a heart from a dragon already born. As you well know, at birth they become strongly resistant to magic and I had to have that heart, the half-breed’s own heart could not have survived the strain from the transference of panther. The unborn dragon gave him endurance and strength, his blood flows much more powerfully through his body now. Given time, it could give him many advantages.”
She walked over so she could stand in front of him. “That was quite a feat. I won’t even ask where you got the dragon fetus, though it was a stroke of genius to use one. What I don’t think you realized is beside the physical enhancements he now possesses, it also gave him a huge resistance to magic. As you said, the great dragons are immune to most of the magic of this world. There is no guessing what other effects it will have on the half-elf.”
He raised his arms suddenly, understanding what had happened. “That makes perfect sense. I thought the unborn heart would not ever have that ability. Dragons don’t acquire that power until the moment of birth, but after we transplanted it, the heart must have reacted as if the dragon had been born and infused Kian with its natural resistance to magic. No wonder he would not submit to my control.
“I think we have just learned where the great dragons carry their protection against magic. I should have known. Their heart is the key to their resistance.”
“No one has ever put a dragon’s heart in anyone before, so how could you have known?”
He could tell she was being sarcastic. “I guess I will have to rely on my wits when he gets here.”
The goddess shook her head. “Without your magic, you will be at a great disadvantage when you face it. As far as your wits go, I am somewhat suspect of those too of late.” She shook her head sadly and disappeared.
“There is more than one way to skin a cat, milady,” he said, limping towards the door.
Her vision was blurry as she awoke. At first she didn’t know where she was, and then pain gripped her before she could gather her senses. Naked beneath a smelly blanket, the Queen of Bandara tried to rise but was bound to a table with manacles and chains.
Raygan could tell her baby was gone. She could no longer feel the life that was once inside her. This was the first time her mind had been clear since the masked man had taken her.
She couldn’t see much, a stone room filed with all kinds of implements and contraptions, and she could hear liquid boiling somewhere inside the room.
Horror seized her. Where was the baby? Had she given birth while she was unconscious? Her mind began to race. Where was she? Who had taken her, and why?
She had to get up, but she was so very weak. Raygan jerked at the chains, causing bolts of pain to shoot through her body. Her hips and groin ached, she must have had the baby. The small woman tried again to get free, but it was hopeless. She hurt too much and didn’t have the strength. The queen began to cry, it was all she could do.
Moments later, she heard the creak of a heavy door open and the sound of soft footfalls. She turned her head far enough that she could just see the door. Her tear-filled eyes opened wide she tried to speak but nothing came out. Her voice had been stolen by utter a
mazement.
There before her stood a young blonde girl with a black patch over one eye, dressed in a brown leather jerkin and riding pants with soft, knee-high leather boots.
The girl pulled her honey blonde hair behind her ears and smiled.
“Isabella?” the queen finally got out.
“Yes, Mistress, it is I. I did not know you were here. I just saw Siro come from this room with a baby and I wanted to see where it came from and I found you asleep. I waited until you woke up to come back. Is that your baby, milady?”
“Yes, it is. Please, Isabella, I don’t know how you got here, but you must free me and help me find my child.”
The girl looked at her with her one pretty blue eye. Raygan could see something in her look. Perhaps it was sadness, she wasn’t sure.
“I could free you, but it would do no good. He would just find you and hurt you.”
“Can you at least remove the chains?”
Isabella nodded and walked over to a small table. Picking up a key ring with several large keys on it, she quickly unchained the queen and gently pulled her up to a sitting position.
The queen threw her arms around her servant. “May God bless you, my dear girl, thank you so much. I will see you’re rewarded for this.”
Isabella took the queen’s arms from around her neck. “I didn’t release you for a reward, Mistress.”
“You deserve one anyway. My God, Isabella, what happened to your eye?”
Before she could answer, the door slammed open. The man in the mask stood there like a dark shadow. “That’s all she thinks of you, my dear, a person that must be paid for a kindness and rewarded for a service.”
He swept into room and right up to the small queen; she could feel his hot breath on her face. “Did she release you, dear Isabella, when her brother imprisoned you? Was she there in the dungeons of her palace, where beneath her very feet Duke Blackthorn raped you over and over and gouged out your lovely eye?”
DAWN OF THE PHOENIX (Gods Of The Forever Sea Book 1) Page 42
