The queen covered her mouth with the back of her hand. She wanted to scream but couldn’t. The revelation of her servant’s fate was almost too much for her.
The Dark One stepped back to stand beside Isabella. “Was she there when the rats came?”
Isabella shuddered and closed her eye.
“No, the beautiful queen who claims to care so much about you sat in her palace and thought only of her own needs while her loyal lady was tortured and raped under her very nose.” His voice rose to a rasping shout. Raygan thought he was going kill her. She could see the hate in his eyes, like a living thing trying to escape from behind his mask.
“Come, Isabella, you are much too good for this wretched woman. You may be beautiful on the outside, Majesty, but inside you are ugly and repulsive. Isabella and I may be scarred and flawed, but we are beautiful on the inside. Something you will never be.”
He took Isabella by the hand pulled her toward the door. The handmaiden gave her a heartbreaking look as the wizard led her out.
Between her sobs, Raygan noticed as Isabella walked out that she carried a thin bladed sword on her side. The queen had seen it in paintings hundreds of times, it was unmistakable. The girl wore the sword of the Phoenix Queen.
Raygan sat and wept. Could what the masked man said be true? What must Isabella think of her? The girl had been her only friend when she had no one else. What kind of person was she not to have helped the girl; she should have tried harder to find her when she went missing.
Cain and William Blackthorn would pay if she ever got out of here. They were monsters. First, her father, now poor Isabella, what else had they done?
The door opened again and the Dark One came in alone. He pushed her down on the table hard and put the manacles back around her wrists. She tried to struggle but the pain in her abdomen was too much.
He finished chaining her to the table. Then the wizard leaned on the table, his face right over top of hers. “I should kill you now or at least flay you alive, but even that would be too good for you. I was once like Isabella, Majesty, but no one ever came for me. I want you to know I lied before, I’m not beautiful on the inside, Highness. I am dark and empty. I will not hesitate to make you scream for death. Your cries will be like sweet music to me and I will dance to that music, Majesty, and when the music stops, I will cry for more."
He cackled and did a little spin. The Dark One started for the door then stopped. He spoke, but didn’t face her. “What happened to her should never happen to any child. Death would have been a much kinder fate.” He walked out and shut the door. Raygan could only whimper in fear.
Rhys and Endra were making good time, considering the snow. The weather was warmer, and the sun had decided to show itself. “Endra, I think we should press on while the weather is mild.”
“I agree, we might make the Adorn in a couple of days if we just keep going. We can eat in the saddle. Can you make it?”
The healer raised his eyebrows. “I’m so sore now, it won’t matter if we stop or not.”
Endra smiled at him. “You are a harder man than I thought, Rhys Morgan. Have you ever thought of changing professions? I’m sure Kian or K’xarr would train you.”
“Oh no, all that fighting and death, it’s not for me. If I wanted that, I could have stayed in Tara. No, keeping people alive, taking away their pain, is what I have always enjoyed doing.”
Endra nodded her approval. “A noble pursuit.” She turned in her saddle and saw a column of men. Close to a hundred, she guessed, riding towards them from the southwest. They flew three banners: the first was a pair of open hands with golden light between them on a silver field, the second a pair of golden eyes on a red field, and the third she had seen before, a three-tined crown with a golden sunburst behind it on a banner of white. She turned to Rhys with fear in her eyes. “It’s the Church.”
Rhys knew there was no point in trying to run and in the snow-covered pasture land, there was nowhere to hide. “Let me talk to them. I have had to deal with a lot of priests when I lived in Tara.”
Endra didn’t argue. She pulled up the hood of her cloak and wrapped a scarf around the bottom half of her face.
When the column of men got closer, two of them broke away from the others and rode forward. The first was in full armor, a knight of one of the holy orders, Rhys guessed. The visor on his helmet was raised so all Rhys could see was the man’s face. He looked to be in his thirties and was clean shaven with hard dark eyes. The other man had dark neatly trimmed hair and a waxed goatee. The healer could tell he was powerfully built under his heavy cloak. He wore a red robe with a chain of gold around his neck, and on the end of the chain was a golden eye. Rhys knew the symbol. The priest was with the inquisition, the investigators for the Church, the Eyes of God. He had to stay calm. Rhys knew he wasn’t a very good liar, but he would have to do his best.
The man in the robes spoke first. “Good day, travelers. I’m Lord Justice Dracen Milara, and this is Sir Oliver Deverall, Commander of the Knights of Deliverance.”
Rhys knew there were many members in the order, but only two Lord Justices, the two true Eyes of God, and one of them sat on a horse right in front of him. This Lord Milara was one of the most powerful men in the Church and his job was getting the truth out of people. Rhys could feel his palms beginning to sweat inside his gloves. “May I ask who you are?” the lord justice asked.
Rhys answered quickly. “Rhys Morgan, a healer from Turill, and this is my sister Rachel. We are checking on some of my patients that live outside the city. Now that the storm has passed, I was trying to make my rounds.”
The lord justice raised his right hand. “You must have patients all over Bandara, my good man. You’re a very long way from Turill.”
Rhys swallowed hard and tried to answer. “Yes… Well, I treated them in the city and they moved out here. I just wanted to make sure they were still doing well.”
“Bless you, Physician Morgan, for all the good you do. This world needs more men like you and, of course, women like your sister. I take it she helps with the sick?”
Rhys shifted in his saddle, not wanting to say too much. “Yes, Lord Milara, she is of great help to me.”
The holy man’s eyes looked Endra over. “Odd that a healer’s assistant should be so well armed.”
“Well, my lord, she also protects me on our journeys. She is far more skilled than I with a sword.” That was at least the truth, Rhys thought.
The justice gestured with his finger. “Pull you scarf down, good woman, and let me see you.”
Endra glanced at Rhys and pulled the scarf down, but not her hood. Rhys saw the desire flash into the lord justice’s eyes when she revealed her face. Sometimes Endra’s looks were a disadvantage. “My God, man, your sister has been blessed by God. Now the hood, please,” the holy man requested.
Endra slowly pulled her hood down and shook her wavy black hair free. The Eye of God said nothing, just staring like so many men did at the woman from Sorrack. Rhys had seen it before, the Eye of God had just fallen in love with the young huntress.
“My lord, we should be going, the light is fading,” the knight commander said without taking his eyes off Endra.
“You’re right, Commander, we have pressing business.” He looked at Rhys. “Be assured, Physician Morgan, that I will look in on you and your sister when I come to Turill.”
Rhys bowed his head slightly. “You honor us, my lord.”
The lord justice rode his horse close to Endra’s mare and grasped her gloved hand. “Till we meet again, my dear Rachel.” He bent and kissed the back of her glove.
The Commander of the Knights motioned his hand forward and the column moved on. The lord justice lingered a moment then followed.
Rhys looked at Endra as she pulled her cloak back up. “I mean no offense, but sometimes I wish you were ugly.”
Endra guiltily nodded back.
“Did you see that woman, Deverall? She was divine. I must find out who she re
ally is.”
Oliver looked at the lord justice. “I thought her name was Rachel Morgan?”
Milara snickered. “They were both lying through their teeth. We will ride ahead and then turn and follow them, perhaps they are the ones who will lead us to where God wants us to be.”
The commander shrugged. “As you wish, my lord. And you are right, the woman was beautiful, but I thought priests could not partake of a woman’s flesh?”
The inquisitor looked at Oliver with eyes that had ordered the torture and death of hundreds of men and women. The holy man’s gaze was unsettling. “Sometime God rewards the devout.”
Night was falling when Kian first glimpsed the tower. He had arrived cold, tired, and more than a little battered. He still ached from the fight with the dragon. He decided to rest for a while before heading to the tower. Besides, after night fell, he would have the advantage of seeing in the dark. At least he hoped he had that advantage, he had no idea what the wizard’s magic could do. He propped himself against a tree, closed his eyes, and waited for the night.
He opened his eyes. The sky was bright and clear, and the wood was alive with birds and animals. The forest itself was green and beautiful, and the snow was gone.
Several elven men and women approached, all with different heights and hair colors, but each beautiful beyond words. They were dressed in the style of his mother’s ancestors and they held their heads high with a look of pride on their faces.
Kian knew that he was seeing the elven race as it once existed. He must be dreaming, or perhaps he had died in his sleep and this was Heaven.
A tall, blonde elven man walked forward, wearing the armor of an ancient warrior. Kian had seen drawings of it in Gildor’s old books.
“Kian Cardan, we have brought you here because of your mother’s blood and to honor that part of you. We reject your human side and you must also while you are in this realm.”
Kian nodded his agreement. The blonde elf continued. “We are the ghosts of the Adorn. This is what our forest looked like before the humans came. The world of Saree was a place of harmony and balance. Then the Reaper came. He and his human army defiled the forest and slew us all. Our spirits still reside inside the trees where we were crucified. The tree your body is sleeping against now is where my sprit rests.”
The swordsman’s eyes took in the scenic forest. It was truly beautiful. Why would anyone wish to destroy it? “Why have you brought me here?” Kian asked.
“We have brought you here to warn you,” the fair-haired elf said.
Kian’s vision blurred and the scene changed. The forest was on fire, men, women, and children—all elven—ran to and fro, screaming in confusion with terror written across their faces.
Men in black armor with sword and torch stalked through the forest, slaughtering the elves and burning their homes. Some of the elven warriors tried to fight back, only to be cut down where they stood. The human’s swords spared no one.
In the midst of the massacre, a giant of a man sat astride a black stallion with flaming red eyes. The man himself was encased in black armor from head to toe, his black helmet was unmistakably crested with elven hair. There were only two eye slits in the helmet and both issued a faint dark glow. Kian took a step back.
It was the Reaper. Kian knew without having to be told. The horse he rode reared up and flames burst from the unholy creature’s mouth. The God of Death drew a huge black sword and pointed it at Kian as if he could see him.
The elven man who had brought him to this place of death grabbed him by the shoulders and said, “You have been marked.” Kian looked at him and felt the cold fingers of fear touch his heart.
“Do not go to the tower, Kian. I tell you this for the sake of Kia, your mother. If you do, your life will be cursed with blood and death. The Reaper will ride in your shadow and you will never know peace.” A spear punched through the man’s back and blood seeped from the corners of his mouth. “I have fulfilled my promise,” he uttered as his body collapsed.
Kian awoke sweating, his back side was wet. He had slept in the snow all night. The sun was up and a cool breeze stirred the air. It had been a dream, hadn’t it?
He looked around and saw that the snow was melted in a huge circle around him. Now he knew why he was wet. He smelled the air with his sensitive nose: smoke.
It was more than a dream, somehow he had been there. He considered the warning he had been given for a moment, then the swordsman headed for the tower.
“He approaches, Master. He’s here.”
The wizard finished pouring the tiny vile of dark liquid he had taken from the Phoenix Queen’s tomb into the poison ring he now wore.
He closed the ring’s tiny reservoir and stood up. He was stiff and his wounds ached. He would have to loosen up before the half-elf arrived.
He wore black leather armor in place of his robes and a dark cape. Buckling his two shortswords around his waist and adjusting his mask, the Dark One came around his desk. “Get the queen and meet me on top of the tower, and, Siro, remember what we talked about.” The ugly little man nodded and went to get their hostage.
The Dark One climbed the steps to the top of his tower. He peered over the battlements and saw his creation coming towards the tower through the deep snow. He knew the fool would eventually come for the little whore. And he had come alone, it couldn’t be more perfect. “I will wait for you up here,” he called out.
He saw the swordsman look up at him then quicken his pace toward the ancient structure.
He hoped his plan would work, or he would most likely be dead by the end of the day. He wanted to laugh out loud. He was nervous and tingling all over. He barely felt the pain of his scars. It had been a long time since he had been this excited.
Kian ran forward and leaped onto the tower then immediately jumped again. The Dark One watched as the half-elf bounded up the side of his tower. He was impressed by his work. Even the Circle of Thirteen could not have created such a creature.
Siro came up the stairs with the queen and threw her down, unconcerned about the agonizing scream she let out. The Dark One quickly limped over to the hatch. “Good, Siro, now go below and do what I told you.”
The necromancer smiled and went back through the small hatch, leaving it open as he went down the stairs.
“Come, Majesty, time for you to be of some use.” The wizard pulled the queen up by her hair. She let out a little scream as he positioned the small woman in front of him like a shield.
Kian smoothly vaulted over the battlements, pulling Malice as he gracefully landed on the tower’s rooftop. The blade’s uncommon features almost seemed to swallow the morning sunlight as he brought it to guard.
“It took you long enough to get here. I see you still have the sword you stole from me,” the sorcerer said.
“Release the queen and stand against me like a man.”
The masked man shook his head. “Why, so you can come over here and cut me down? I think not, my friend, but I might be willing to make a deal. Right now, my servant, Siro--I’m sure you remember him--is down below with Her Majesty’s infant son. If you try anything foolish, maybe you will save the queen, but her child will surely die. Now throw the sword over the side and get on your knees.”
Kian looked over the tower’s edge and then back at the wizard. The Dark One slowly pulled one of his shortswords and put it to the queen’s throat. “You know I will do it. You do remember Gildor, don’t you?”
Kian’s lips tightened. He knew what the wizard was capable of. He dropped Malice over the side of the tower and got on his knees.
“Much better, my friend. I feel much more comfortable now.”
Kian’s eyes narrowed. “I’m not your friend. I did as you asked, now let her go.”
The Dark One slowly loosened his grip on the queen. “Don’t forget, one word from me and the child dies.”
Kian could see that the hatch to the tower was open. He had no doubt Siro was down there with the queen’s baby,
listening to every word.
Raygan fell to her hands and knees. Kian could see she was in a great deal of pain.
The sorcerer waved his fingers and then clenched his fist towards Kian. A flaming bolt of green fire shot forward and struck the swordsman square in the chest.
Kian flinched. He looked down at his chest, nothing, the magical bolt hadn’t harmed him at all. He jumped to his feet, glaring at the wizard.
The Dark One shrugged. “Forgive me, but a colleague of mine said you might be immune to magic due to the dragon heart I put inside you. It seems she was correct.”
Dragon heart? What had this vile monster done to him? Kian’s anger began to build. He had been mutilated on the inside as well as the outside. He could not hold back the animal inside him.
“Now you die, wizard.” Kian charged the Dark One, almost covering the distance across the roof in a single move. His speed was incredible, but it was not fast enough. The masked man lifted his left arm and raised his wrist. An iron spike shot out from his sleeve. Kian tried to move out of the way, but he was too late. The spike buried itself deep in his left side, spinning him to the ground.
“I don’t die so easy, swordsman. Maybe my magic won’t work on you, but I am not without skills of my own.”
The pain from the spike was excruciating, but Kian jumped to his feet. He reached down and pulled the sharp piece of metal from his side, casting it over the battlements.
“You are formidable opponent, but not too smart,” the wizard jeered. Quickly, the Dark One pulled a small crossbow from behind his back and fired.
Kian caught the bolt in midair right before it hit him. Leaping high in the air, Kian jumped towards the wizard, kicking him full in the chest and sending the sorcerer flying across the rooftop.
“You talk too much, wizard,” the swordsman said as he reached down and helped the queen to her feet. “Are you all right, Majesty?” he asked.
“Just get me away from here,” the queen shrieked.
The Dark One regained his feet and drew his other shortsword, spinning both the blades with deadly expertise. “Let us finish this.” Kian gently pushed the queen out of the way and the two men charged each other.
DAWN OF THE PHOENIX (Gods Of The Forever Sea Book 1) Page 43
