She swallowed against the dryness in her mouth and felt her heart pounding against her ribs. She bit her lip and forced a deep breath in to calm her raging heart. "Hello?" she called out once she felt her racing pulse slow.
The dark cave had no answer for her.
Jethallin took a few more breaths and then climbed to her feet again. She moved forward slowly, reaching out with her hand and shuffling her feet to make sure anything she couldn't see in the darkness didn't surprise her. She could make out the outlines of the stone bed and Snake-Killer's corpse, but details were lost to her.
She stopped when she noticed how different the cave felt. Before, it had felt dry and almost cool. Now she could smell the swamp and taste the warm moisture in the air. She licked her lips and sniffed, and then grimaced. She could smell the body now, too. It wasn't rot she smelled, just a faint stink of old decay and leather. Licking her lips left the taste on her tongue. She gagged and spit on the floor but that didn't make the taste go away.
Jethallin's foot kicked something and made it skitter across the floor. She gasped and, when no further noises developed, she knelt down and gently padded the floor with her hand until her fingers brushed against her dagger. She found the hilt and picked it up, and then sheathed it and rose up. The darker outline of the stone resting place lay before her.
Jethallin wrinkled her nose as she stepped up to the side of the body. She looked down but had trouble making out details other than the outline of the body. She could smell it much clearer now. The dust tickled her nose and reminded her of a dead rat she'd once found that had been trapped underneath a barrel for ages.
Jethallin lifted her head and turned to stare at the brighter spot on the wall that marked the entrance to the cave. Whiskers and Jennaca were still out there. Out there and well, she hoped. The rat made an unlikely nanny but better that than in this place of death.
Jethallin's breath caught in her throat and then she chuckled. Somehow Whiskers had become more than just a rat big enough Jennaca could probably ride him in a few more months. He was Thork's creature, she knew, and Thork had shown interest in Jennaca. She pushed the thoughts away and turned back to Snake-Killer. She had to finish this and be rid of him.
She held her hand over the mouth of the body and, grimacing, she laid the blade of her sword in her palm. She squeezed her eyes shut and pulled the blade until she felt the bite in her palm that made her gasp. She yanked the sword away and squeezed her hand tightly, and then remembered what she was supposed to do with it.
Blood welled on the bottom of her fist as she squeezed it tightly and twisted it. She opened her eyes as wide as she could but couldn't tell if anything was happening. It wasn't until she closed her eyes that she smelled the coppery scent of her own blood and heard the tiny splash the droplets made when they fell. She counted out half a dozen of them and then backed away.
"There, are we done? Am I done? I did as you asked. I'm sorry, but you're d—"
The body jerked on the stone, startling Jethallin so badly she stumbled back and tripped over one of the diamonds. She crashed into the wall and spun away, staggering to keep her balance. When she was able to stand on her own, she spun back and saw the body rising from the stone and turning towards her. Red light burned in the hollowed eye sockets.
"Snake-Killer?" Jethallin squeaked.
A dry moan escaped from the walking corpse. It raised its arms and reached for her, and then lowered them and came to a standstill. "Thirsty," he rasped.
Jethallin fumbled with a waterskin and tugged it loose. She took a careful step forward and stretched her hand out to him. Snake-Killer moved and caught her arm around the wrist in his bony hand.
"Take the water," she hissed. "Let me go. I freed you!"
"Thirsty," he said again and pulled her a step closer with strength beyond anything his frail body could have managed.
"Stop it! I saved you!"
"Not yet," he hissed and then chuckled. "I need your life."
Jethallin reacted before the shock of what he said could sink in to her. She thrust her sword out and skewered it between his ribs. The blade burst out his back, sending shreds of ancient flesh and bone across the floor of the cave.
Snake-Killer looked down at her and then clubbed her in the side of the head with his other hand. She screamed as she was sent crashing into the wall and felt some of her hair yanked out.
Jethallin dove away from him, landing on her hands and feet. She leapt back up and turned in midair, only to keep backing away now that she had the light of the tunnel's entrance at his back.
"I need your blood," Snake-Killer hissed. "Your life."
She backed away further and drew her dagger in her other hand. The blood had stopped flowing from her wound but holding the hilt tightly reopened it and made the weapon slip in her grasp. The tribal warrior followed her and stepped around the plinth he'd been sleeping on for hundreds of years with ease. She realized he could see in the dark much better than she could.
Snake-Killer stopped and bent over. He straightened back up, holding something in his hands. Jethallin gasped as she moved a step to her right and saw the outline against the brighter stone wall behind him. It was a spear. It had been resting on the ground on the other side of his eternal bed and she'd never noticed it.
Now he had it, and he was between her and the exit. Jethallin had never beaten Snake-Killer. She'd hurt him once, but this was different. This was real. And she wasn't as fast here, in the real world, as she had been in the dream world he taught her in.
He turned just enough for the light to play on his face and show the macabre grin that split his skin and made it hang in flaps from his cheeks. Jethallin suppressed a shudder and lunged towards him to attack. As she expected, he knocked her sword aside and dodged her dagger. What she didn't expect was how slow his counter-attack was.
His spear swept across but she tracked it with her eyes and smacked the back side of the shaft with her sword to send it farther out. She jumped in behind it and jammed her dagger into his abdomen twice before she stumbled back, nursing her hip where his bony knee had bruised her.
"What witchery is this?" he snapped as he moved his spear back in place between them.
Jethallin smiled. He'd spent so much time fighting in his dream world that he'd forgotten how the real world was. That or he was slower now that he wasn't really alive. It didn't matter; she had an edge on him. She had to act fast, she knew. Snake-Killer was a veteran warrior and it wouldn't take him long to adapt, even if he was taking the phrase teach an old dog a new trick to the extreme.
She pressed forward and drew him out with a feint that the Snake-Killer in her dreams would never have fallen for. He was off balance as his spear slashed down towards her. She stepped to the side and watched him react too late and try to stop the attack. If she were him, she'd know better than to reverse her movement. It left him standing still and unable to defend himself. He should have kept twisting and come around. It would have made him vulnerable but he'd have been moving and less likely to be critically injured. But Snake-Killer was too proud for that.
Jethallin pushed his spear down until the tip hit the stone. She swung her sword across and shattered the shaft of his spear and then pulled the blade back across and cut deeply into his ribs on the backswing. She twisted behind her sword and jammed her dagger into his side three times and felt his ribs crack and crumble as she punctured his paper-thin flesh.
Snake-Killer, once a mighty warrior who towered over her and filled her with fear, fell back onto the stone plinth. His eyes burned red as they stared up at her and he held his arms and the broken spear shaft up while his legs scrambled to find purchase so he could push himself back to a position of control. Jethallin pursued him, as she'd been taught, and swatted his shortened spear and his hand away with a swing of her sword. A thick black ichor dripped from his severed wrist and dropped onto the floor.
"Leave. Me. Alone!" Jethallin screamed at him before she swept her sword down and c
leaved through his left arm that he'd raised to ward off her blow and his mummified throat.
Snake-Killer's head fell free and cracked when it hit the ground. Dust burst as it split open and the baleful red light in his eyes faded away. Jethallin stared down at him and fought past the sound of her own pulse thundering in her ears. Her cheeks were flushed and her arms tingled. She heard a crack and felt a pinch on her finger, and then lifted her hand and saw the jade ring fall free of her hand in pieces.
The smell of death and decay rose up and threatened to overwhelm her. Jethallin stumbled back and gagged, and then shook her head and stumbled to the wall to hold on. Another breeze whipped up and brought fresh air into the room. She heard a rustling noise and turned to see what it was but her hair was whipped into her eyes, blinding her. When the wind faded, she saw the room seemed a little brighter. Snake-Killer's corpse was gone, blown away by the mystical wind.
Jethallin sheathed her weapons and shivered. She hugged her arms about herself and hurried out of the cave, anxious to put the nightmare behind her and check on her daughter.
She emerged into the evening shadows and stopped. Jennaca was sitting up and cooing while reaching forward. In front of her, Whiskers rose on his hindquarters and bared his teeth at a shape that she had to blink twice before she could fully see in the gloom.
It was a swamp puma. She'd heard about them, especially how they liked to steal babies from villagers. It was brown with mottle streaks of black through its fur, allowing it to blend into its surroundings. It bared its teeth at the rat and crouched low, preparing to pounce and bear the massive rat away under its even greater bulk.
Jethallin's heart leapt into her throat. "No!" she shouted while reaching out with her left hand and grabbing for her sword with her right.
The swamp cat and rat both turned to look at her. Jethallin swallowed past the lump in her throat and shook her head. She'd just gotten free of Snake-Killer and now this? Already? She bared her teeth and started forward. "Not today, cat!" she snarled as she drew her blade.
Chapter 19
"Up again," Alto said when Garrick paused at the top of the stairs ahead of him.
"I know," Garrick growled over his shoulder.
"So why'd you stop?"
"That girl with the basket's staring at me."
"The girl with the basket? What are you talking about?"
"The servant, downstairs."
Alto remembered the girl who had opened the door and walked away from them. He clenched his teeth to stifle a curse and stepped forward so he could give Garrick a shove. In a gruff voice, he said, "Keep moving, prisoner!"
Garrick stumbled forward and shot an angry glare over his shoulder once he'd regained his footing. Alto stayed behind him and ignored the barbarian's gaze so he could look around the man and see the servant. She stood with her back to a wall and still held her basket, though it was empty now.
"You're not a guard," she accused Alto. "And he's not a prisoner! Don't try anything or I'll scream!"
Garrick moved his hands from behind his back and showed them to her. "Scream and I'll wring your neck."
Her mouth clamped shut and her eyes narrowed. The servant glanced up and down the dark and empty hallway.
"Think you can run away?" Garrick asked. "I've chased down an elk in snow up to my knees and outrun a pack of wolves that thought to make me dinner."
She looked at him and had to try three times before she could speak without a tremble in her voice. "What do you want?"
Alto stepped around Garrick. Her eyes went to the glowing sword in his hand and then jumped up to his face. "Take us to the guard captain," Alto demanded.
"What? Why?"
"He has my friend's sword," Alto said. "Hurry. If we're discovered and we have to fight, we won't need you anymore."
She frowned and then nodded. "All right, but be quiet. I heard you coming up the stairs."
"You didn't hear me," Garrick argued.
She looked at him and then nodded. "No, you're quiet. It was your friend."
Alto stiffened and glanced down at the stolen armor he wore. He shrugged and heard the leather rustle and the metal sewn into it clink. "The sooner we're out, the less chance anyone has to hear us."
She swept past them, basket held against her hip, and started up the next flight of stairs. She paused after ascending a few steps and glanced at them. Garrick and Alto jerked into action and followed the serving maid up to the next floor.
The hallway was lined with a rug as the floor below but the doors were less ornate. Fewer statues lined the hallway and there were fewer tapestries hanging from the walls. It reminded both men of the Kingdom palaces they'd been in.
She walked to the left and stopped after passing three doors. She turned to the next door on her right and gestured at it. "Captain Clovis's room," she announced.
"Is he in there?"
She favored Alto with a venomous gaze. "I'm a servant, not a whore."
"I never claimed you were," Alto said.
She snorted and glanced at the door again. "It's a few hours until sunup—where else would he be?"
Garrick and Alto shared a glance and then both men shrugged. Garrick stepped to the door and tested the latch, and then nodded at Alto.
"Are you going to kill him?" she interrupted.
"No," Alto said before Garrick could offer his answer. "Unless he wakes up and gives us no choice."
The servant nodded.
"Be silent," Alto warned her.
"Yes, yes, or you'll wring my neck, I know."
Alto stared at her for a prolonged moment and then turned to the door. He glanced back at her briefly, still at a loss for her strange behavior. "Open it," he said to Garrick.
The northerner opened the door and stepped into the dark bedroom. The light from Alto's sword slipped around him to cast moving shadows in the room but it only took a moment for the barbarian's eyes to fall on several items piled on a desk.
Alto motioned for the woman to enter ahead of him and then he followed and pulled the door shut behind him. He turned and saw Captain Clovis didn't just have a room; he had a suite of rooms. The entry room they were in looked to be more of an office. A door in a side wall led elsewhere, perhaps to a bedroom.
"Here," Garrick hissed as he handed a belt with Alto's scabbard on it to the young warrior.
Alto grunted and tucked his drawn blade between his arm and his side while he buckled the belt back on. Garrick retrieved his weapons and girded them on. Their clothing was gone, discarded in the castle's rubbish or otherwise missing.
Once they'd reclaimed their items, Alto motioned with his head towards the hallway. They backed out of the room and pulled the door shut behind them. He sheathed his sword and returned to the hallway lit only by distant lamps that were turned low to preserve oil. "That was easy," Garrick said.
"Too easy?" Alto wondered. He turned to look at the servant. "Why are there no guards?"
"We're in King Banadis's palace at night. Why would there be guards? The gates and entrances are guarded, as are the dungeons."
"What about servants?"
"You found me," she pointed out. "There may be some in the kitchens, too. Do you want me to take you there?"
"No," Alto said. "Only one other place, then we'll let you go."
"You wish to escape?"
"That'll be after we get a private meeting with Banadis."
She hesitated and then shook her head. "I can't get you to the king," she said. "He's in a different part of the palace. A tower. It's guarded."
"Take us there," Alto demanded. "I don't want to spill any more blood than I have to, but don't mistake that for a weakness. I will kill as I must."
She frowned and then nodded. "There is a way. A secret passage. It will take you into the lowest level of the tower, into storage rooms."
"Show us."
She nodded. "Follow me," she said before turning and heading back to the stairs. She led them down to the level with the dungeo
n but took them down the passage away from the prisons. They passed through sections filled with storerooms and then servants' quarters. Twice she rushed them into alcoves and bid them be silent while servants emerged from rooms and passed them by unknowing.
Once the hallway was clear the final time, she ushered them to a door at the end of the passage and opened it. She shut it behind them, plunging them into darkness. Alto reached for his sword but stopped when light burst into the room and left him and Garrick both squinting and blinded.
When they could see again, they saw a small pool in the middle of the room and walls lined with bookshelves. A long table sat on the left side of the room with a single plush chair pulled up to it. The light came from four burning braziers, one in each corner of the room.
Alto spun on the serving woman, his sword half drawn. She stood there and shook her head. "Still yourself, Alto."
"You know who I am?"
She nodded and her eyes flashed gold for a brief moment. Her pupils resembled slits until they flashed again and returned to normal.
"Banadis?" Alto reasoned.
"What?" Garrick cried out. "She's not a—uh, well, she's a she. Kings are men, not women. Then they'd be a queen."
"You have a weakness for women," she said. "Both of you, though for different reasons. It may be your undoing."
"So you are Banadis," Alto said. He finished drawing his sword and added the golden light from the blade to the room, though it was tinged with a faint shade of green. "And you're afraid."
"You have made a name for yourself doing the impossible," she admitted. Her eyes flashed gold again and then she shifted before their eyes. The change was too swift for either man to understand, but before them stood a man as tall as either of them, though he boasted long blond hair and had an almost gaunt face. He wore a white shirt under a black vest trimmed in gold. A golden circlet sat upon his head.
"By Preth's balls," Garrick swore as he drew his own blade. Blue flames leapt out of the hilt and writhed up and down the blade. "He's a dragon!"
"Not exactly," Banadis said. "But I've been working over the years to reclaim that legacy hidden in my blood."
Order Of The Dragon (Omnibus 1-4) Page 77
