Blood of the Lost: The Darkness Within Saga: Book 2

by JD Franx

  “A distraction,” Desire said, spitting at Ella’s feet. “Fancy word for a sacrifice. Stuff it, witch...”

  Ella’s hand snapped out, wrapping around Desiree’s throat so fast she never saw the woman move. Currents of sparkling energy crawled under and along Ella’s fingers as she chanted slowly. Little blue worms of lightening slid into Desiree’s throat and cheeks. It tingled at first, but quickly surged with intensity. Her eyes popped open, beyond her control, as the current locked her teeth together, nipping the tip of her tongue. The scent of charred flesh drifting up her nostrils made her gag, but even her stomach refused to obey the commands of her mind as electricity invaded her entire body.

  “Interrupt me again and I will fry you from the inside out. Show me such disrespect again and I will turn your entire body inside out while you remain alive. Am I clear, Desiree Star?”

  The current tormenting her body lessen enough for her to nod.

  “Good,” Ella said. The current increased again. Every muscle in Desiree’s body went rigid, aching from the pressure put on every muscle and nerve. “I don’t sacrifice people for any reason, not any more. I was going to tell you that you’d have your chance at Merethyl, a distraction is useless if the threat it poses is not real. Yrlissa’s faithful would be there to back you up should you need them. Do you understand?” Desiree nodded as Ella’s spell lessened once more. “Now get up, we have work to do and you have a year’s worth of training ahead.” Ella removed her hand from Desiree’s throat and she crashed to the ground twitching from the after effects of the spell.

  Struggling to her feet, Desiree couldn’t help herself. “What work?” Ella gave her a look that let her know she was pushing her luck, but answered anyway.

  “I need your skills. We have to hunt someone down while you train to become an even better killer.

  “Who?”

  “Not really a who, my dear, more of a what.”

  “What then?”

  “A DeathWizard. We are going to hunt Talohna’s only living DeathWizard.”

  “No. Just kill me. I’m not going to die trying to kill a gods-cursed DeathWizard, my soul...” The alpha female’s backhand came from nowhere, knocking Desiree back to the leaf-mold. The power behind the blow was incredible, even though she was in Human form.

  “Respect, my dear,” Ella said. “Second warnings are not something I normally give. Besides...” The witch smiled, helping Desiree back up. “We’re not hunting him so we can kill him. We’re going to help him, if we can find him in time.”

  WILDLANDS EASTERN SHORE

  Kael floated on the white clouds and smoky haze that accompanied all subconscious wanderings of the mind, and yet for some reason, he knew he wasn’t alone. A presence kept him company, a presence he knew well. Though the swirling miasma of white blurred her appearance as she drifted closer, he knew the form of his wife, Ember, as if she were a disconnected piece of his own soul. He would know her anywhere, even if she’d been dead for many months. He looked around to see where his broken mind had brought him, but his eyes saw nothing but the shapeless white. As his wife drifted within a few feet, he held up his hand for her to stop. The image created by his mind of the only woman he had ever loved was exactly how he had remembered her minutes before he saw her last.

  “I know you’re not real,” he said, sadness layering every word. “This is a dream, but just let me look at you before the nightmare begins again. You can’t imagine how much I miss you,” he added, his voice heavy with regret and the guilt of her loss.

  She smiled that perfect smile he remembered so well. “This is one dream I promise you will not turn into a nightmare. Please, love, let me show you.” She stepped forward to take his hands, but he jumped back to avoid triggering the part of the dream where she died before his eyes again, for the thousandth time. The look of hurt nearly broke what was left of his tortured soul.

  “Please, Kael, listen to me. I don’t have much time. You have to help us, you have to help me. Take my hand and I will show you. I control this dreamworld, not those who have hurt you for so long. Please,” she pleaded, reaching for him. Afraid of what had happened so many times before, he shook his head, taking another step back.

  “You’re not real. I watched you die inside the vortex, you and Max both. The king’s man told me that he removed your bodies. I’m sorry, Ember. It was my fault, they wanted me, not you...” He coughed, as a tickle formed in his lungs.

  “I know, babe,” she said. “I know all of it, but we’re not dead. Max is right here with me and we’re in trouble, right now, here in Talohna. How would I know what this world is called if I weren’t real? We need you. Take my hand, Kael, please. My strength is waning.” Desperate to believe what she said was true, Kael closed his eyes and took her hand.

  With a rush of what he knew could only be magical power, Kael smiled as the fog of white turned to darkness and after only a few seconds, the dark faded, transforming into a tropical forest. Ember and Kael glided into a camp of savage human beings as if they both had wings. She led him by the hand to a cage filled with people, all of whom had been beaten badly. Many of them still suffered from bloody, open wounds. Memories of himself and the others who had suffered for months at the hands of the Dead Sisters came rushing back to the forefront of his mind and the anger always just under the surface roared to life once more. Even in the dreamworld, the thorn-covered black vines covering his body jumped to life, growing through him.

  He grunted from the pain, stumbling, until he saw his wife, bruised and dirty, laying beside a young Elvehn woman. Kael glanced back at the Ember holding his hand, confused and unable to comprehend what he was seeing.

  “I don’t have time to explain, babe. What you see is very real. We are both alive. The ones who told you otherwise lied. Look,” she said, pointing to Max. Kael stumbled again, weakness washing over him, but as he looked at his closest friend, there was no doubt in his mind that it was Max. A once seldom-seen frown, a couple weeks of beard growth, and a set of nasty looking scars across his face were the only difference. Kael recognized the change in his friend all too well; it was what this world did to people who weren’t born in Talohna.

  “What happened to his face, Ember?” Kael winced, as he got a good look at the fresh scars. He wheezed, coughing a second time in an attempt to push the irritation from his lungs.

  “A Wraithlord. We were trying to find you. He saved us the day that happened, like he saved us back home the night you were shot. You remember?” He nodded. “Don’t you see? We’re alive, Kael, and you need to save us. Please,” she begged, yet again.

  The tickle in his lungs grew stronger, turning to fire. He hacked, trying to expel the pain, but a racking cough took over.

  “Where... ...are you?” He coughed and spit on the ground, but nothing came from his lungs or mouth. The burning worsened as he gasped, his breath failing.

  Almost unable to breathe, he heard Ember yell, “I wasn’t fast enough, Kael. I’m sorry.” He continued to cough and sputter, struggling for air as Ember closed her eyes, concentrating on something only she could see. When they snapped back open, she screamed with panic.

  “No! Kael, listen to me, please. We’re in the Wildlands, help us. The Wildlands, Kael, we’re in the Wildlands. Help us. Please!” Doubled over and fighting for breath, he glanced up in time to see her fading from his sight, her arms outstretched, reaching for him.

  Her voice reverberated inside his head as the fog of white returned, more like the beginning of the dream. “You have to wake up now. Wake up. Now, wake up, Kael!” She screamed a second time as an explosion of magic roared inside his head.

  She was gone.

  SEA OF STORMS

  Kael jerked awake, inhaling a mouthful of salty water before he was fully conscious. Thrashing at the panicked sensation of breathing water and not air, a second wave slammed his face and body, lifting him further up the beach before it was clear he wasn’t actually drowning. The panic subsided. He was no longer o
ut in the ocean, drifting and lost. Lying face down on a beach with his head towards the incoming tide, he would have drowned had the realistic dream not woken him. Dizzy and disoriented, he pulled himself from the surf and fell to the beach, gasping for breath, utterly exhausted.

  The dream about Ember and Max was crystal clear in his mind, but the rest of what had happened over the last couple days was a confusing mess of flashes and darkness. The dream felt so real; he wanted to believe it was. Had Ember not screamed at him to wake up and had the strange power inside his head not awoken him, he would have drowned face down in the sand and surf. With more than little difficulty, he focused on remembering how he ended up stranded on a sandy beach.

  His last clear memory was in the captain’s cabin of the ship he and Kyah had stolen with Galen and Kalmar’s help after escaping from the underground Dwarven prison of Arkum Zul. Like a light snapping on in his brain, it all came rushing back. He heaved into the sand, the rush of memories swallowing his mind in vertigo. Bile and sea water splattered the wet beach when he realized what he had done, the lives he ruthlessly took fighting to be free, and how he had outright murdered Arabella Ondoloth. The dream of Ember turned his stomach cold as he remembered his worst crime.

  Like every other horrific memory he’d had since arriving in Talohna almost five months ago, the events of the past two days went all wrong after only hours of finally being free and finding some peace and quiet.

  Chapter Two

  “Officially, slavery is illegal in Talohna. That being said, the Free Lands located in the old Dwarven Kingdom have no laws against it and no recognized king has any power there. The seaport city of Dasal is home to the last slave market in Talohna. The area known as the Wildlands is another place where slavery flourishes. Home to fierce tribal natives, their entire society is built on the blood and sweat of slavery. The Wildlands of Talohna is the last place any sane man would want to find themselves. Ending up as a slave is the best possible option I can think of for someone who stumbles into that massive forest. Landing in one of the southern tribe’s communal cook pots is probably the worst.”

  Garren Sallus, A Traveller’s Codex Volume 2

  NORTHERN WILDLANDS FOREST

  TWENTY-NINE DAYS EARLIER

  The Archwizard, Giddeon Zirakus, and the Northman, Kasik Blodhjorr, led their small group through the Wildlands’ Northern Forest quietly and at a slow pace. Prepared and guarded against attack from any and all sides, Giddeon’s daughter, Saleece, along with Ember Tollen-Symes, and the magical assassin, Yrlissa Blackmist, rode twenty feet behind them, leaving Maxwell Soryn to guard their rear another thirty feet behind that.

  For two days, they travelled beyond the Wildlands’ Northern Peace Border with no sign from any of the tribes that called the Wildlands home. The group’s presence was a direct violation of the peace treaty that had ended the last Wildlands War. Tasked by King Bale of Cethos to find his daughter, the princess Corleya, the group had no choice but to follow her trail into the land of Tribals and spirit magic.

  Yrlissa managed to keep to the trail of Princess Corleya and Lady Alia, even though no one else had been able to make out the tracks for days. Max had been at the assassin’s side most of the way, determined to learn everything he could and to spend as much time with her as possible. Like Ember and Kael, Max was another transplanted refugee from Earth, brought to Talohna by the Dead Sister witches and their dimensional vortex nearly five months ago.

  Max, a retired U.S. Army Ranger Sniper, fit into Talohna’s violent world seamlessly, unlike Ember had. After only five months, his reputation as an archer and warrior was quickly spreading, not to mention that garnered by his almost-mystical strength. His life back on Earth was just another memory. Still very shy towards Yrlissa, Max now at least managed to speak to her without stumbling on his tongue, even if it had taken months. His clumsy attempts had not gone unnoticed. Used to working alone, Yrlissa welcomed any offer of company he made.

  Max and Yrlissa were off their horses, down on one knee, looking at the faintest impression of a shod horse’s print when the first flight of darts from the Taktala blowguns hissed through the air. Yrlissa was the only one not hit in the first wave, rolling the millisecond she heard the sound of expelled air from the blowguns. Max was hit but didn’t seem to notice. As everyone else fell from their horses unconscious, he ripped the dart from his neck and threw it to the ground in disgust. Kasik stayed coherent long enough to earn a second dart, again to the side of his neck, before he too fell from his mount.

  Yrlissa suspected her best chance of escape would be up into the towering trees and their heavy cover. It took only a second before she was fifteen feet above ground and bursting through the lush leaves of the giant tree.

  Bala Takma, the Taktala tribe’s tracker and hunt leader, had specifically set the ambush to accommodate for the agile Elvehn woman and was waiting for her on the very branch where she stopped to catch her breath. Yrlissa saw Takma the moment she landed, but would never move fast enough to avoid his dart. Even her resistance to poisons would give her little protection against the savage’s sleep poison coating the darts, especially with her heart pounding from exertion.

  She cursed at him the second the dart hit her skin. “Bo’Chava,” she barked, calling him a bastard in his own language. “You’ve just made a... big... mistake,” she stuttered, falling from the tree barely conscious.

  With strength well beyond what one might think possible, the tribal scout moved, grabbing her around the waist as he dropped from the tree without making a sound. As he landed, Yrlissa let out a delirious chuckle at the ridiculous, poison-induced hallucination of Max snorting like a bull and shaking his skin, dislodging three sleep darts that fell to the ground. Bala Takma barked in a guttural tone and a dozen more darts shot towards him. Every projectile hit flesh and even his abnormal strength waned as he slowly dropped to the dirt, unconscious.

  Ember was the first to wake, her natural Fae healing ability breaking down the sleep dart’s poison faster than the others. It was late evening; she noticed all three of Talohna’s moons high in the dark sky. Looking around the camp fire she could see that they were all bound and gagged, sitting back to back with one another. The three women had all been bound to one of the men. If one of the men tried to run it would cause incredible pain for the woman tied to him. She could feel Giddeon at her back and smiled to herself as she noticed Yrlissa had been tied to Max. A small group of the tribal natives sat around the fire, but she suspected there would be more guarding the camp from beyond the fire’s light. It was clear they were in a lot of trouble, but worrying would get her nowhere, so she leaned her head against Giddeon and went back to sleep.

  Ember woke again during the early morning hours as the tribe prepared to move the camp. They were fed twice a day while they travelled from sun-up to sun-down. Food was brought to them in the morning before they left and at night before they slept. The Taktala, as Giddeon called them, had plenty of experience with prisoners. All of Ember’s group walked with their hands tied behind their backs, and their feet were tied together with each other at night. The heavy, braided vines tied to their necks were strung between their legs when each was secured for the night. Sitting back to back as they were, running was impossible. They hadn’t been allowed to talk because of the gags, even if the gags were to prevent spell-casting, and not only talking.

  During the hours of dark, two guards watched directly over them, neither dozing off nor becoming distracted during their duty. Ember suspected more guards were out of sight. On the second night, Giddeon succeeded in freezing his bindings so they would shatter and prompt an escape, all of which he did without speaking a single word. The ArchWizard’s ability to cast silent spells had been passed down for generations for just such an occasion. It didn’t help. He was hit with sleep darts the moment he tried to stand. The concealed blow-dart hunters high in the trees were the second line of guards overlooking the prisoners. It was clear there would be no escape, at leas
t not for the time being.

  It took the better part of two days to arrive at the Taktala’s main camp. The evening meal was being served, so the tribesmen and their new prisoners arrived to cheers, shouts, and celebration from the rest of the tribe. Ember, Giddeon, and the others were taken to a caged area on the south side of the camp. There was no one else in the cage when they were shoved in after their hands had been released.

  Food was brought immediately by several young slaves who were accompanied by four Taktala blowgun warriors. Wooden bowls were filled with a spiced meat and vegetable stew. Each prisoner also received two pieces of baked flatbread.

  Max smiled as he wolfed down a mouthful of the rich food. “They always feed prisoners so much?” he asked. “We haven’t eaten like this since we left Corynth.”

  Giddeon nodded as he dunked his bread into his bowl of stew. “We’re not prisoners any more. We’re slaves, and hungry slaves can’t work properly.”

  Always the pragmatist, Max shrugged. “At least we’ll eat well.”

  It wasn’t long before the tribe’s chief stopped by the cage to inquire about their capture while trespassing on his land. The leader of the Wildlands most civil tribe looked at Giddeon as if memories were struggling to surface.

  “I am Chief Vattis Taktala,” he said, in a stilted but good grasp of the common tongue. “You I know,” he said, pointing to Giddeon. “You wish war with the forest tribes, defiler?” The ArchWizard’s muffled grunt was unintelligible.